I’ve walked this earth for almost 64 years. I cannot recall a year that was more incessantly irksome. Pandemic, economic travails, political nastiness, racism, violence, wildfires, blood moons … and blood-red suns … it has felt apocalyptic.
But it has not all been bad. At least for the Toones. There have been some sweet, redemptive moments. And one of them showed up at 2:14 Monday morning. Cecilia Grace Toone arrived. Six pounds, 4.2 ounces, 19 inches long and … with every bit of unfettered Papa Pride I can muster … gorgeous and perfect!
An added minor cruelty of COVID is that Cyndi and I could not be at the hospital and so, our opportunity to hold, kiss and smell the head of our little “Cici” was delayed by 36 hours. But when that moment came, I was overwhelmed with a sense of almost painful joy and amazement. I do not know her, have never met her, have never benefited from anything that she has done … and yet I love her as if she is a part of me. For she is!
The moment you hold your own child, you get a glimpse into the love of our heavenly father. The moment you hold your own GRANDchild, somehow, that understanding is magnified. Because by now, you have walked through the ups and downs of parenting and discovered that, no matter what, love endures. Family endures. No matter what.
I want to talk about that very thing this Sunday. As we approach yet another rocky week in a very rocky year, I want to remind us of what binds us together and how we can hold onto each other even in storm-tossed 2020. The world stinks at this, frankly. We can do better … and God help us, we must, for the sake of the rest of that stinking world.
I’ll see you Sunday … photographs at the ready!