It’s mid-afternoon on the 6th of October 2005. We are, according to the flight data given to us by the pilot, 37,000 feet above the North Sea. Our destination? Home!
For the past 17 days we’ve been doing the “Nanny” – “Gramps” and “Nanna” if you ask our eldest Grandson – thing. More specifically, my Wife and I have been in London, England to celebrate the birth of our Seventh Grandchild; Grandson # 5. Kaleb Josiah Denison was born, the 3rd Son of our first Son and his Wife, Korenne, on September 21st. Because Jim and Korenne live in England and their other two Sons were born there this is the first occasion we’ve had to share the joy of the birth of one of their Kids. They wanted this for us and we are thankful to have been able to add such a momentous occasion to our diary of precious memories.
Thinking back, now, on those high energy days so much reels through my mind. I am still in awe of the magnanimous generosity of our Lord who made it financially possible for us to make the trip. We’ve deliberately opted to live without guaranteed income, for now, and the idea of International travel, for other than work related purposes, was preposterous. But today the unthinkable is a marvel-packed memory. There’s even a little money left over. Beside these wonders I have so many more memories.
I could recount the overnight flight September 19 & 20 culminating in a whirlwind rendezvous with our Son and his revved up two and four year old Sons. The ride to London from Heathrow, in a compact car, squeezed between kids’ car seats, rocketing through a maze of motorways and “roundabouts,” on the wrong side of the road, is a tale by itself. One day had just dissolved, or should I say, been jettisoned into another.
Arriving, finally, safely, we loved their home the moment we were welcomed in. The large trees along their street and the vegetation all around concealed the somewhat congested nature of the Community. Carefully conserved green spaces were every where around them and these, combined with the nearby, renowned, English countryside offered the freedom to enjoy outdoor life daily. Always our energetic Grandsons were there to add color and adventure to whatever we were doing. We flew kites. We pushed swings. We watched boys slide down slides more ways than I thought possible. We gathered and husked “conkers.” We chased pigeons around an open air shopping mall with 2 boys in a 1 boy stroller. The 2-a-day walks to and from Nursery School with 4 year-old Samuel, were, for me, a return to a Child’s world.
Try it. You’ll get it. Try visiting Mother and newborn with the baby’s 2 and 4 year old siblings. Play, “Let me entertain you” to an audience of 2 youngsters in a hospital corridor or on the parking lot. Take them to a toy store to “occupy them” while their parents enjoy much needed “kid free” time. No matter where you are the clash of adult/child interests is the main event. Anytime from 5:45 AM to 8:00 PM it’ll rock your world. I have new respect for Jim and Korenne. And I apologize to any of you parents of young kids whom I may have criticized for periodic use of the TV as a surrogate nanny. If you can bear the endless repetition, which is the stuff of childhood learning, and ruthlessly screen anything that’s offered, you’ll find it quite a welcome companion especially if you’re jet-lagged or have been wakened by a couple of amped up boys at 5 or 6 in the morning.
Despite everything going on there were times for conversation with our Son and his Wife. Jim and I have always enjoyed watching sports together and got to do some of that. Cricket, a new game for me, and soccer - “football” to be “proper” – were always available. If you didn’t mind day or two old baseball and American football, plenty of real sports were there to be enjoyed as well. We were even treated to live play-off baseball on the last two days of our stay.
Shirley and I enjoyed worshipping with a group of Young Adults in a retro interior Cathedral in the center of London on the last Sunday night. We’d never sung with a choir of drums and before but found ourselves drawn into meaningful worship just the same. A Husband and Wife speaking Team challenged us, in the telling of their own stories, to ask ourselves the question, once again, is God enough for us “NOW,” in our present circumstances, regardless of how daunting. The vitality among these people was even more engaging set, as it was, in dramatic contrast to their drab, gray, venue, huddled ghostlike in its crowded niche of grimly gothic structures; a cathedral, not so long ago the veritable tomb of a faith that had died in these shadows of a now pagan city. Creatively, vivaciously these young people, perhaps as many as 500 of them, passionately sang, danced, drummed and declared in myriad ways that Christ is very much alive even in the shadows of the gray labyrinth of a London night.
Yes, these have been 17 most eventful days. Days neither Shirley, nor I, will ever forget. We are proud of our Son and his Wife. We’re thankful for the people they’re becoming. Though I’ve sounded like a grumpy Gramps, at times, during these reflections, I am proud of our Grandsons. They are really normal little boys. If they weren’t as active as they are we’d think something was wrong. Both Shirley and I believe Jim and Korenne are superb parents. We are thankful for the obvious indicators that Samuel and Evan are fine men in the making.
The mission Jim and Korenne are on is grandiose in scope. They have determined, and agreed with God and a small core of fellow believers, to be part of the renewal in Greater London. This decision has huge implications for them individually and as a Family. It will bring them to the brink of death figuratively and literally. And it will succeed. What else should we expect when they’re serving the “Lord that made the Heavens”? The new worshippers we sang with in St. Mary’s of London, that memorable Sunday night, are a prototype of what will come of their mission as they follow this vision from the Lord. I’m on the edge of my chair as I imagine it!
On the wall of our Son’s study are words attributed to Theodore Roosevelt. My heart swells as I think of this Man I call “my Son” living so courageously. “It is not the critic who counts, nor the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions and spends himself in a worthy cause; who at best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who, at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly; so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory or defeat.” Jim can live this way because he has learned, with St. Paul, that we “rely not on ourselves but on God who can raise the dead.”
