Samuel Ethan Wayne Stone was born on August 18th, 2019. He was six pounds, ten ounces and nineteen inches long, with brown hair and green eyes. He came into this world to parents Timothy Stone and Charlotte Lynch and brother Ian lynch. He has long, monkey like toes, and delicate musician’s fingers (both like dad’s), as well as his dad’s broad Stone Nose. Charlotte had a C-section scheduled for the 19th, his Aunt Candice’s birthday, but he couldn’t wait. He was impatient, and ready to bust loose. Like his dad, again. He has his mother’s eyes and calmness, thankfully. I can see her easily in his face. They made it through the delivery without much of a hitch, especially from my point of view. All I had to do was wait. A little after ten o’clock that morning we received some pretty fresh pictures on our phone, via text message. He’d arrived. Laura’s and my own heart filled with joy. We were Grandparents!
I’ve considered all the frightening possibilities that old age brings. Working at a nursing home will give you a unique perspective on the matter. The one thing that I was looking forward to in my advancing years was the possibility of watching my children raise their own children. At 54, I knew I was a statistical anomaly. Most of the people I knew that were my age had grandchildren. I had begun to lament the fact that I may not have any. Part of my sorrow was that my kids wouldn’t know the joy and satisfaction of seeing little versions of themselves grow into bigger versions of themselves. A larger part of my fear was that my immortality was a stake. No man wishes to leave this world knowing that he leaves it without leaving behind a replacement to carry on with his name, and maybe a few of his bad habits to inflict upon this old world after he’s gone. It’s selfish, and possibly wrong, but true nonetheless. Grandchildren give us hope that our lives have more meaning. At least to that little person, our lives were important and necessary.
Little Sammy got sick with a fever before he was three weeks old. One hundred and three is a scary temperature for a new born. His parents rushed him to the doctor, who sent him to the ER. There were blood tests and scans, and a whole lot of prayers. The doctors thought meningitis. They wanted to send him to Vanderbilt or Leboneur, where there were experts in treating little folks. Leboneur was chosen. My kids had all gone there at one time or another during their childhood. They were the After more tests and days later, it was determined that little Sammy had a tear duct infection. The antibiotics they’d been giving him for possible meningitis would suffice to cure him. A collective sigh of relief from friends and family alike. We had all prayed, all worried and all waited while the new parents had been by Sammy’s bedside, their nerves frayed, minds racing and tired and sleepy hands cared for their son. His medicine did it’s magic, and he came home after nearly two weeks of his life in the hospital. The tired parents brought their baby boy home. Our hearts were full again.
God gives us children to show us what living is all about. You never get to stop being a parent. You always love your child. You give your time, energy, wealth and everything that is in you to see to it that they are healthy and happy. They come into this world helpless, fragile and tiny. They take your heart and make you happy just by knowing they exist. God lets you know that this world isn’t about what you can get out of it, it’s about being selfless. Children are little versions of ourselves, and doesn’t Jesus say to “love your neighbor as yourself”? Our purpose isn’t about what we want, but how we treat each other.
When we give up our selfish desires and concentrate on what someone else needs, we are following Jesus’ path. We just have to have the same heart towards our neighbor as we do with our children, and grandchildren. I’m going to keep that in mind every time I see Sammy. My love for Sammy is how I should love my fellow man. God kinda snuck that one in on us, huh?
Rolling Stones 