Comforted, After All by Pamela
Deniell
Are we going to have tons of fun
today?” I asked my four-year-old granddaughter as we drove to my house.
“Yeah!” she shouted from the
backseat. She and I always had fun. She was three months old when my son and
daughter-in-law adopted her. In the four years since, we’d spent a lot of time
together. Watering the garden, reading books, feeding her daddy’s
horse—anything was fun as long as we were together.
“How about some music?” I asked.
I popped in a Christmas CD. It was almost December, after all.
“Oh come, all ye faithful...”
came from the car stereo.
My granddaughter bobbed her head
to the words. Looking at her now it was hard to imagine the life she’d lived
before her adoption. A neglected baby, homeless, abandoned, left alone in the
back of a car hour after hour.
I’d worried about the chilly
nights she spent in the dark by herself, no one there to hold her and nurture
her. I did my best to make up for that loneliness now, but could I ever really
erase that early isolation?
“Oh come ye, oh come ye, to
Bethlehem...” the music continued.
A tiny voice came from the
backseat. “Grandma, that’s Jesus singing.”
“Jesus singing? Honey, Jesus does
not make records.” Out of the mouths of babes!
“Yes, it is Jesus,” she said,
assuredly. “It sounds just like him.”
I stopped at the red light and
let out a good chuckle. “Now when would you have heard Jesus sing?” I wanted to
know, following along with her little game.
“Four years ago,” she said. Her
tone was so serious, I had to take a long look in the rearview mirror. She
looked right back at me, her eyes alight with wisdom beyond her age. Four
years ago, I thought. Just before she was adopted...
All those long, cold nights—my
little grandbaby wasn’t alone. She had so much: a light to break the darkness,
and loving arms to keep her warm.
“Oh come, let us adore him,
Christ the Lord...”
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