Sands of the Hourglass

My husband and grandson share what I call a “Barnabas Moment” every morning as Howard drives Adam to school. A short radio program by that name comes on during their early morning jaunt, and from what Howard tells me, it has become a real bonding time. They both look forward to a cheering word, topical comment, or bit of good news from the broadcast. Apparently, it launches them into further conversation, something guys are not always so good at, or it comfortably fills the silence of non-talkative, pre-dawn mornings.

Thanks to Adam’s iPhone, Howard always comes back with the current weather report: the exact temperature, wind-chill factor, and week’s forecast. It seems the phone is never out of the teenager's hand. He can come up with data on any topic at a moment’s notice, thoroughly impressing his grandparent. Let Howard muse or wonder about a song, local event, or airline schedule, and his tech-savvy grandson whips out the info.

Adam will get his driver’s license in a few months, and the small morning routine of picking him up for school will disappear with the whir of his own wheels, just as it did when his sister, Allison, became a driver. She got a ride from Grandpa every morning, too, for a couple of her high school years. There wasn’t much conversation between them--just yes or no responses from the back where she sat with her cumbersome book bag, purse, and jacket splayed across the seat, lost in her own teen world of friendships, studies, or current drama. It was a dependable, close-knit moment, nevertheless, that they both treasure.

When the kids were small, and we lived a few hours away, our families got together on frequent week ends and summer visits. Seeing these grandchildren was a highlight of our lives, the visits bright spots in our planning calendar. But then they became teenagers, with their own interests and little spare time, even though we live close now and see them weekly, at least at church. No longer do they come over to bake cookies or explore with Pa Pa; their worlds have changed. So we are thankful for the occasional Sunday dinner, the game of Scrabble or Quiddler maybe squeezed in after, or a glimpse of Allison when she is home on a college week end. No wonder a “Barnabas Moment” is so important!