Over the past weekend, my wife Karen and I spent some time in Amarillo with our three-month-old granddaughter Annabelle, her parents Brooke and Ethan, and her other set of grandparents, Jim and Nancy. What a blessing to spend so much time with them all as well as windshield time with my dear wife.
The occasion was one I was not familiar with, a baby dedication. I’ve attended quite a few baptisms, including two of my own. But I found this service to be very special.
Part of the pastor’s prayer was this line:
God, we ask you to open up the windows of heaven and bless Annabelle with gifts we don’t even know to ask for.
I’m always appreciative of humility, particularly in our conversations with the Almighty.
The very brief service concluded with the pastor holding Annabelle up before the church and singing this song:
May blessings be upon you, precious baby. May favor rest upon your family. May your future be a holy legacy, May blessings be upon you, precious baby.
Annabelle behaved remarkably well. She held her head up, a new skill, and glanced calmly at the packed church. That made the song particularly poignant, “may your future be a holy legacy. May blessings be upon you, precious baby.”
I’ve watched the video now at least a dozen times and always with tears watching this precious baby and holding near to my heart wishes for her holy legacy.
During this particular Sunday, I watched as the church moved swiftly toward Sunday school, then the second service, and so on. The family moved likewise. Off to brunch, to family tasks, to travel back home, and then the work week starts.
They capture these moments with a great app called FamilyAlbum, where Brooke posts several beautiful photos and videos every day. Through my aged eyes and limited work assignments, I wonder if it’s all going too fast.
I guess that’s one of the benefits of aging. I appear to see what’s tumbling past and recognize our all too eager rush to help it past so that we can get on to the next important thing.
Of course, thus it has ever been. I’m reminded of Charles Dickens and The Child’s Story, which I’ve recorded. The gist of the story is that our lives go through phases. He captures them perfectly:
the child, always at play;
the boy, always learning;
the young man, always in love;
the middle-aged gentleman, always busy;
the old man, always remembering.
I’ve lived every one of those phases. Now, as well as remembering, I see others in those early stages and wish them every blessing, from precious babies to old men.
