I found this on Pastor Meeter’s blog:
Two weeks ago I went to a hospital to see my mother’s oldest
sister, who had a stroke. She is 93. We always liked my Auntie Jo. One
summer I lived with her. So I put my collar on and got there early
before visiting hours. She recognized me and we talked a bit. I read
her some psalms and she dozed off. I sat there and watched her.Suddenly on her aged face I saw the face of my grandpa, her father, from thirty-five years ago.
What
was it — her nose, her cheeks, her forehead? And then I saw my
grandma’s face as well, from twenty years ago. I had loved those
people, who were so long lost to me, and now I’d had a sudden and
passing glimpse of them.
I now have entered the last
third of my life. My life is more behind me than before me, and I
notice of late how often I think and speak about my grandparents. I
suspect I’m trying to keep connected with my own earlier self as it
recedes from me. I don’t want to be adrift in the world. A part of my
self is contained in my memory of their faces. But soon, I expect, I
will lose my Auntie Jo as well.But with a baby, it’s
all about the future. There is no clinging to our histories. With a
baby it’s not about myself. A baby is all about itself, all new and
undeveloped. A baby is pure gift. Isn’t that the emotional reason for
Christmas presents? Because the quintessential gift is a baby. You have
to receive it, you have to accept it on its own terms, it’s not about
you, and it calls you forward.