In the midst of so much bad news and heroic stories surrounding Hurricane Katrina, I was blessed with some personal joy. This weekend my mother was able to score a fast, cheap plane ticket from Atlanta to Houston. She flew in at midnight Friday, but I was glad to pick her up. I suspect that my mom was motivated by a desire to see her granddaughter over and above seeing me or Rochelle.
It was a good weekend. It was fun to see my mom playing with blocks on the floor and repeatedly reading tales about Pooh and Christopher Robin. I have to admit that it was a kinda weird seeing the woman who gave me life holding my daughter.
As many of you know, when grandparents come to town gifts come with them. This weekend I ate a restaurant twice (which Ro and I never do anymore), and Malia made out with several of her most coveted items: shoes. About a month ago, Malia’s other grandmother came to visit. She walked in overloaded with toys and dresses. But it’s not the gifts that we like most about when grandmothers come to visit.
The best part is the reminder that Malia is part of a legacy of faith that reaches back generations. When our family comes to visit we sit at table with people who share and have helped shape our deepest devotions and convictions.
I love and am proud of my family; both sides of it. And I’m pleased that Malia will enjoy a life under the guidance of the faith of her family.