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Tuesday, 11 August 2015


I may have raised four kids, but being a gramma in charge is different. With my own kids, I made my own mistakes, enjoyed my own triumphs. With my granddaughter, I am aware that I am playing by her parents' rules. I've got two A4 typewritten sheets of instructions with specific times and activities.

So it was with some trepidation that I headed for the bedroom with the warmed bottle of milk, determined not to make eye contact or give off any vibes that would communicate playtime as opposed to nap time. The bottle was pretty firmly rejected, so into the cot she went, soother handed in and me headed out. As warned, there was a cry of protest but then quiet ensued. I came down for a rewarding cup of coffee and then I heard it. The squeak of bed springs as a wee body bounced around. Maybe I was a bit quick with my self congratulations.

The Bible contains hundreds of pages of what we might think of as instructions on living. Some seem very specifically to give commands. Do not murder. Do not steal. Others are less prescriptive, more open to interpretation. But the aim of it all is to draw us into the deeper embrace of the Father God who loves each one of us.

Guidance on living the best life possible is what parents do, and what God does consummately. Because God created each of us as a unique and special individual, he doesn't expect us to all behave in exactly the same way, like wind up automatons. He expects each of us to use our brains and our personalities and our common sense and to develop just the way he planned, with his help.

It is all quiet upstairs now and I am enjoying my coffee, grateful that Felicity's parents have been consistent in their actions with her. I'm not sure my four ever went down so easily as that. As the Bible says, the young will teach the old(er)!

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