“Grandchildren are the crown of the aged, and the pride of children is their fathers.” — Proverbs 17:6

Normally, I am tucked into my usual spot on the couch when I hear the soft, unmistakable sound of little footsteps padding down the hallway. On a typical morning, she slips into the room and snuggles up right beside me, offering a sleepy-eyed embrace.

But this morning, my routine took me into the kitchen first.
As I stood by the counter, the gentle thud of those small feet echoed down the hall once again. She wandered into the kitchen, climbed up onto the barstool, and blinked against the morning light. With sleepy eyes and that tender, unmistakable innocence, she looked up at me and murmured, “Good morning, Gheez.”
Looking down at that sweet face, my heart felt so full that tears welled in my eyes. I asked her, “Do you know how much I love you?”

In that quiet kitchen moment, it struck me so clearly: this is exactly how God loves us.

I cherish these sacred moments fiercely. Children are a profound gift and a blessing, carrying innocence and fierce curiosity that we, as adults, desperately need more of. Over time, the world demands so much caution from us that we can easily lose sight of the quiet, vibrant beauty around us. Yet, their pure hearts are precious in His sight; Jesus even reminded us that we must become like little children to truly understand the kingdom of heaven.

In many ways, grandchildren feel like a grace-filled opportunity for a do-over. They give us space to get things right, allowing us to apply the wisdom learned from the inevitable mistakes of raising our own children. Back then, we simply did our best with what we had.

But now?

There is much less stress and more room to slow down and simply exist—to stand quietly in a kitchen and marvel at the miracle of having a grandchild.

Yet, the older I get, the faster these children grow. I know that one day, she will outgrow this innocent sweetness. The days are so short. We must cherish the wonder while we can, before the world tries to take their innocent joy and replace it with the heavy caution we are forced to carry in a fallen world.

So for now, I will hold onto the wonder. I will protect her joy, memorize the sound of those padding footsteps, and thank God for the blessing of a second chance to watch life bloom.