You Are My Favorite

When we moved to the farm we did not know that we would be getting an adopted family in the deal.  Grandma and Grandpa filled a void that death and dysfunction had left in my kids’ lives. Since they were our closest neighbor the kids would often wander over there at odd hours. No matter what she was doing Grandma would stop to read a few stories over a bowl of ice cream.  Then, as she handed them a bag of cookies for the long walk home she would lean in and whisper, “you’re my favorite”.

The draw was strong on our three-year-old daughter. One sunrise she slipped out the back door and made a beeline for Grandma’s.  “It’s too early, come back here!”  “Too late mom, I already want to,” said the willful tike (likely under the spell of promised sugar and unconditional love).

Grandma spoke daily of Heaven and when the time came for her to make the trip she spoke to each of her grandkids (those connected by blood and land alike) and told them how much she was looking forward to it.  So, the memorial service was a mixture of tears and laughter as one by one two generations admitted the open secret. Each stood and admitted the truth, “I am Grandma’s favorite”. And they were right.

We all have someone who has made us feel special.  It is great to be acknowledged and praised for an accomplishment and certainly this person has celebrated your victories.  More importantly they loved and accepted you regardless.  You probably have someone you have decided to love that way. Because you know what it is to be exceptional to someone.

We all keep score, and we know in our hearts what we deserve. So the everybody-gets-a-medal attitude mocks that sensibility and teaches us to doubt unwarranted affection.  Grandma’s grace was enhanced by the knowledge that she watched you grow up and knew your best and worst; and she believed in you anyway.

Grandma was special. She knew she was the recipient of undeserved acceptance and she lived in it.  Her example was foretaste of what God’s children can anticipate. Now, He leans in every day and whispers, “You’re my favorite”; and I bet they have ice cream.