O my God, thank You for my grandchildren, a sevenfold blessing I could never have imagined. Once, though, I told them I remember when the U.S. flag included only 48 stars — and OMG, one grandson asked if I knew Betsy Ross.
O my God, You designed me with neatnik DNA. You know I dared my sister to cross a line I’d drawn in our bedroom, lest she deface my perfect side with her clutter. I’m not sure what genetic catastrophe occurred in my makeup since then. OMG, do you think I should apologize?
O my God, thank You for the first campout of the season! Thank You for the kayaking. The biking. The hiking. But OMG, thank You for being home again, where the hike to the bathroom is just down the hall.
O my God, thank You that I can help my daughter with my grandsons. Thank You she teaches eager immigrants English. But at 5 a.m.?! OMG, to think that when she was a groggy teen, I had to feed her breakfast in the minivan!
O my God, the forecast predicts 70 degrees all week. Can those people shivering in shorts and flip-flops since March 20 be right? You really can bring spring to Indiana? OMG, I kind of forgot … You have done this before!
O my God, experiencing a nonexistent spring, I wonder — are these fuzzy yellow things snowflakes in disguise? But no, they’re dandelions! I usually don’t welcome them to my yard. But this year, OMG, thank You for each and every one!
O my God, “Happy Easter”? My yard looks more like “Merry Christmas.” This snowy Monday morning seems to have killed off any possibility of life. But OMG, when You make up Your mind, not even an uncooperative weatherman can stop Your Resurrection!
O my God, didn’t we used to diaper, swing, and kiss these little nerdlings’ boo-boos? Now, one grandchild is a texting teen, one’s voice alternately booms and squeaks, and the youngest beat Grandpa at Scrabble! Thank You for this new grandparent adventure. But OMG, we’ll have to grow up to handle it!