Not being the person responsible for getting everyone everywhere anymore, I take these years of grandma-time to listen for the lessons. I have found they are all around me. "Linus," for instance, gave me a lesson on new year's day.
I've long called this little one (now age 3) our "little Linus" because he has been a thumb sucker since birth, and for nearly two years he dragged his beloved blankie everywhere (to church, to the grocery, fishing on a muddy riverbank with Daddy..). I suppose it's only appropriate, therefore, that little Linus has a streak of the philosopher within him. I can easily imagine him marching onstage to explain what Christmas is really all about, Charlie Brown.
On New Year's day, Linus offered the grace before dinner. His prayer was a string of thank-yous.. Thank you for Mommy and Daddy and Grandma and Pop and Mimi and the dog. Thank you for food, and Christmas, and turkey; thank you for toys and fishing poles and my new game and snow. And thank you God for cheese.
We all sat with heads bowed, the aroma of cooling food reaching our nostrils, and patiently listened. Every now and then someone would interject an "amen," which Linus saw not so much as an ending, but more of an "Amen, Brother!!!!!" as he continued on.
The lesson for me? Primarily it was one of thanks. I didn't look on Linus' grace as merely something cute; I joined in his thanksgiving, for I saw it as a real prayer. I am sure God saw it that way, too.
I wonder. What if I were to go through today thanking God for everything I think of, everything I see, everything in nature in which I see His hand? Would this please Him? Oh, I know it would. Do I want to please God today? Indeed I do.
So thank You, God for Linus and Lessons. Thank you for Linus' sisters. Thank you for sunshine and snowflakes and trees and gravy and lamplight and my family and a furnace and a house.
And thank You God for cheese.
