A few weeks ago my oldest daughter and I were on the phone talking. We talk almost every day. (thank you God, for unlimited minutes.) Generally our conversations are about a bunch of nothing, which is nice. We used to talk about doing her homework, her wardrobe, her boyfriends, her allowance, etc. Now we talk about whatever strikes us, and in normal tones, so it's nice.

My husband was out of town that day, traveling on business. At the end of our conversation I could hear Caiden in the background, saying something over and over (as only a 4 year old can do.) Sarah said, "Caiden says he needs to talk to Papa." So I told her, call him on his cell phone. He might be in range.

That evening when Don phoned home I asked him if he and Caiden had talked that day. "Oh yeah, we talked." I asked him, "what did you talk about." Don said, "Really I don't have any idea. I got some of it, but he just went on and on." Don laughed about it and I could tell in spite of the lack of discernable communication he'd enjoyed talking to his grandson.

The last time Don and Caiden were together was in October. Caiden loves loves his grandparents on both sides. He prays for them, remembers things about all of us, and loves us with the simple, accepting love of a four year old. If they all like us as much as he does we've got it made.

So this morning we're headed to Texas to spend a few days of quality time with our grandsons. We're also attending our son's graduation, and we get to hold a brand new granddaughter very soon. I get to spend Mother's Day with all three of our children. We get to see our other daughter, Leslie's, very pregnant tummy. It was flat the last time we saw it. We're over the moon about every single one of these events.

But I want to enjoy the pureness of this - yesterday Sarah told me Caiden was gyrating and wiggling all around the house; she asked him what he was doing. He said, "I'm doing the Papa and Grammy" dance. I could go into all sorts of allegorical stories about needing to talk to our Heavenly Father, dancing before the Lord. But I won't. Right now we're going to drive to the airport, enjoying the simple fact that somebody loves us so much he dances when we come to see him. "How great is that?", as Caiden would say.

Labels: Dusty Stuff