I watch her discover America and I, too, am captured. Her crib in India was a dingy ivory color. The floors were cement. Food was poured into her mouth and toys were scarce. All other sources of color, minimal. Now her life in my son’s home is overflowing with never-before-seen hues, textures, tastes and sounds.
However, Sarah’s intake of all these new aesthetics sometimes pushes her into sensory overload. It seems odd that something sparkly or musical would frighten her, but her wise mother has taught me how to watch that and how to limit her intake.
Grammy’s must learn such things when loving on their grandbabies, so I keep a close eye on how my daughter-in-law cares for our newly adopted Indian Princess.
One day, I watched mommy pick up Sarah to comfort her but Sarah resisted, twisting her limbs away from arms of love. How marvelous to witness the transformation from fear to trust when those arms applied the right amount of firmness to calm Sarah’s little body!
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about heaven. As I mourn my father’s death, I celebrate my granddaughter’s life and it dawns on me that both her and my Dad are discovering new colors and sounds, textures and tastes. Just as Daddy is walking streets of gold, Sarah is sleeping in a room of pink.
I watch Sarah resist the loving embraces of her new mommy and daddy and think how shocking it must be to go from the deprivation of an orphanage to a land of plenty. I finally understand why people resist all the marvels and amazement of God’s pure, holy, unconditional love and fear the perfect light in which he dwells.
But just like Sarah’s wise parents, God knows how to monitor our intake of His goodness so we don’t get sensory overload; he knows how to wean us from the orphanage of death and acclimate us into everlasting life. It’s a process built on trust a little at a time.
Sarah sees the color of trust: it’s pink!