ok, I am full of posts today! lots of stuff on my mind, just haven`t had time to get them down here;) So read down on my blog as there is still more:)
So this one comes from the latest book I am `currently reading called à million miles in a thousand years by Donald Miller. By the way I am only through a third of the book and I already highly recommend, such a fascinating read!!!
Ok, so when Addyson was born, I saw something new birthed in my parents that I have never seen before. I know my parents love my brother and I more than anything else in the world, but there is something different that happened when I had Addy. I couldn`t put my finger on it, I wasn`t jealous of it, but I was in awe of it. I was talking about it to my dad one day, and he made the statement that he could never love Addyson more than me, and I believe that..but the same..I never imagined till i had her, and saw it happened. I guess its the whole my baby`s baby thing. But when I read this passage in this book, it started to totally make sense.
Actually Donald Miller quotes an entry from another book called A Year of Days with the Book of Common Prayer by Edmond Browning..here it is....
`I have the good fortune to be a grandfather. Twelve times. Oh sure, I loved being a father. There were so many of us Brownings-Patti and I have five children-so much to keep track of with the comings and goings of all of them through the years, that I never really thought much about becoming a grandfather until the reality of it was almost upon me. I was unprepared for the emotional power of seeing that first tiny member of our next generation. I often wonder exactly what it is about the grandchildren that moves me so.`
Miller goes on to say-I fell asleep that night thinking about that passage, taking comfort in the fact that we change over time and our perspective sharpens with experience. I don`t think Edmond Browning loves his grandchildren more than he loves his children, but I think he loves them differently. Perhaps he understands more acutely the importance of love and the beauty of life itself, the inestimable potency of beauty within the tiny newness of his grandchild. I think Edmond Browning must have felt more accurately what is important and what is not, and what was most important would have been love, the severe desire for the child, not to succeed, but to fearlessly engage in a world in which love is so fearfully exchanged.
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