Tell Me the Story Again

Yesterday my five-year-old granddaughter came to visit me in my office. I had some paper and markers ready for her. She printed my name (Besta). I am amazed at how fast she is moving from having been a baby to becoming a little girl.  As she sat on her mother’s lap my memories took me back to the days when her mother was my co-worker.

When this co-worker learned that she was going to have this baby she began planning to be a stay at home Mom. I was feeling sad that we would not be working together but also excited that she would be a mother. As we talked about how this would all be, we decided that since the real grandmother lived in Australia, I could “adopt” this baby as my grandchild. We decided to call me Besta (Norwegian for Grandma.)

I went along to the ultrasound appointment and saw my precious little girl being knit together in her mother’s womb. One day, about half way through the pregnancy, there was a little note taped to my office door. It said, “Good night, Besta, I love you.”

I decided to tell this story to my granddaughter yesterday. I told her that her daddy and mommy had prayed for a baby and then she started to grow inside her Mommy’s tummy. I said that when she was still living in her Mommy’s tummy she had written me a note.

On hearing this story this child’s eyes grew big and her face reflected delight. “Besta,” she said, “will you tell me that story again?” Nothing would have pleased me more than to tell it again and let her soak in the story that will remind her that she was planned for and wanted.

I need these reminders for myself. I am thankful that prayer is both talking and listening.  When I listen to God He reminds me that He thought carefully about how to make me and knit me together in my mother’s womb. (Psalm 139) He made me because He wanted me to be in His family and to call Him Abba, Father. I am one of a kind and that makes me precious to Him.

He never tires of my asking, “Abba, Tell me the story again.”

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