It was a wonderfully busy weekend.
It was a weekend of celebration.
A baby shower for my daughter-in-love, and a birthday celebration for my husband.
Everyone was coming home.

I love seeing all the bedrooms full.
I love seeing all the cars in the driveway.
Everyone was coming home at different times.
A big pot of meatballs and sauce was simmering.

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It started as an innocent comment to my husband.
I should know after thirty-seven years of marriage that these kind of comments generate action.
Usually, I’m more careful.
This time; however, it just came out.

We really need to get the swing set ready.
There it was.
I happened to look outside and saw the swing set.
I could easily picture our precious granddaughter on the swings.

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She was walking with her father holding his hand.
She was skipping like little girls do.
It was a bitterly cold day and she was wearing her winter boots.
I heard the sound of the boots against the ground.

I was bringing my husband’s suit to the cleaners.
I was holding the suit tightly as the wind whipped around me.
I left the cleaners with my receipt in my hand.
I should have put the paper in my wallet since the wind was doing its best to steal it.

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I see my granddaughter at least once a week.
In between visits, my daughter will fill me in on some cute thing she is doing.
My husband and I get videos more often than the ones sent on the family text.
It is a known fact that grandparents never tire of seeing their grandchildren.

My daughter and son-in-love will set up the phone on the floor as we Face Time.
When we talk to our precious granddaughter, she will crawl towards us.
We get to see how fast she is crawling.
We get to see her excited little face as she tries to get closer to our faces.

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I met my friend for breakfast.
We try to get together at least once a year so we can catch up.
I knew that this breakfast would be a bit different.
My friend is grieving.

My friend’s father died.
His death is about one year after the death of her mother.
Losing someone we love is terribly hard.
Losing someone we love around the holidays is especially difficult.

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The text came in the afternoon.
It was from my son.
I read it and smiled.
Texts and phone calls from my children always make me smile.

Mama, we’re feeling like some good home cookin’.
Could we come for dinner tonight?
The answer to his question was an easy, Yes, followed by joyful emojis.
I was having a simple dinner but I knew I could make it stretch.

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How I love the times I am able to feed my precious granddaughter.
Cuddling with her in my arms, looking at her sweet face, brings me back.
It brings me back to when her mommy was a baby.
The resemblance is uncanny.

I love when she grabs my finger as she takes her bottle.
Her grip is strong.
She will hold one of my fingers with one hand and touch her bottle with the other.
Soon, those little hands will hold the bottle all by herself.

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My children always loved a particular homework assignment.
Inevitably, in their elementary school years, they would be asked to draw a family tree.
Some children may groan about such an assignment.
My children did not groan because their family tree had only one side.

The only side of the family tree that was known to them was their father’s side.
Being adopted and not knowing my history, my side of the tree remained blank.
They only had to do half the work and half the writing.
Their family tree was a bit lopsided.

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I had just finished food shopping in one store.
I was heading to my Whole Foods market to shop there.
As I got into the car, my phone rang with the Waltons ring tone.
That ring tone is only for my family.

I looked down to see that it was my daughter.
This daughter is the mother of my granddaughter.
I love those Mom kind of phone calls.
Whether it is a story about something she is doing or a question; her call is always welcome.

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Sometimes two seemingly unrelated things can be quite similar.
Two events, that can easily stand alone, have significance when looked at together.
I noticed the truth of this with two family events that happened this past weekend.
God’s hand was evident in both.

The first event was the bridal shower for my son’s fiancé.
The bridal shower was in Washington, DC.
Two of my daughters and my daughter-in-love were able to attend.
My daughter, who just had our precious granddaughter, did not attend.

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