This morning at Church, while waiting for service to start, I snapped this sweet photo of mine and my grandson’s hands. The sweetness of the moment reminded me of a memory twenty-five years earlier.

My grandson’s daddy, my oldest child, was three, the age of my grandson now.

I was standing in the kitchen, holding his hand. My husband’s Great Aunt Edna was visiting.

She was a classy lady. Always well-dressed, hair fixed, nails manicured. Her home was full of polished antique furniture, draped with crocheted doilies. She brought out the good china for every day occasions, and no one would dare think of accidentally breaking a piece. Kids behaved in her presence because of the formality that she brought into a room with her.

If her appearance and carriage weren’t enough to cause you to take notice, when she spoke, everyone listened. With one sentence, it was apparent that she was a genteel, southern lady.

Aunt Edna saw me holding my son’s hand, and commented wisely, “Right now his little hand fits inside yours, but it won’t be long before yours will fit inside his.”

How right she was.

One day, when Logan was a teenager, he held my hand in his and said, “Look Mom, Aunt Edna was right.”

And so she was.

Through the years, a squeeze of our hands has always been an unspoken conversation between us. Now that my boy has his own boy, those old memories carry an extra sweetness.

As I looked at my grandson’s hand on mine this morning, I was thankful.

Thankful that Aunt Edna spoke a word into my life all those years ago that would cause me to value time with my children.

Thankful that even though they are grown, they were all raised in Church.

Thankful that through the crazy busyness of our lives, we somehow made the time to instill into our kids that God comes first, and Church is a priority, not just something we add on to our lives.

Thankful that all my family was in Church together on the last service of the year.

Thankful that all my children and daughter-in-love are used in the ministry.

Thankful that my three year old grandson loves to raise his hands and worship Jesus.

I’m thankful that men and women of God are my children’s heroes. Share on X

Ma’am, Sir, as the old year rolls up like a scroll that has been read, and the new year is spread out like a blank page, I urge you to take your children’s and grandchildren’s hands in yours.

Three or forty-three, no matter.

Give them a squeeze. Study them carefully. They won’t look like that next year, or in ten years, or in twenty.

Show them by example how to reach high in worship, how to locate the books of the Bible, how to play an instrument in praise, how to clean the Church house.

Time is no respecter of persons. When those youthful hands are wrinkled with age, they’ll be glad someone taught them what is most important.

Trust me.

Warm Regards, -Pat