Musing One:

Granddaddys are cool toys. They are like magic dragons, or bears that live in hundred acre woods, and a lot like velveteen rabbits. An awful lot like velveteen rabbits.

They buy ice cream, tell stories, holler at soccer games, drink imaginary tea, and the next day help you learn to drive. They know stuff, can do stuff, and make you laugh.

Then one day, you beat them in foosball, they have h-o-r-s-e before you have a letter, and you see that there is a good deal of foolishness mixed in with the wisdom.

And, they wonder why they should expect a sixteen year old and a seventy-three year old to have a lot to talk about. Not an awful lot in common. Except a bunch of love and hearts full of memories. And, that’s a lot.

Musing Two:

My legacy is not going to be that I changed anything. The poor remain, and the powerful continue to take what they want with disregard for the pain they inflict.

The best I can hope for is that I will leave enough evidence for my descendants to see clearly that I was trying to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God.

My prayer is that when they see this evidence they won’t think I was foolish and weak. I don’t mind being called foolish and weak, but it will mean that they chose a different path.

Musing Three:

There is a growing number of loved ones sitting around the table of Christmas past. Perhaps more than the number sitting around Christmas present.

As more of my heart crosses over, the veil gets thinner.

Sometimes I whisper, “If possible, tell them I said hello.”

And sometimes Spirit whispers, “They said, hey back.”