Grandparents

 When I first chose these photos for this post, I thought that they had no connection.  Originally I chose them for the sake of posterity, but then I realized that they had a very real connection (other than Hannah).

 When Hannah was around six years old, and still the only granddaughter, Dave's mother bought Hannah a very elaborate dollhouse for Christmas.  So elaborate and delicate that it did not easily withstand the male forces in the home.  Thus, the house went into storage and the furniture was selectively repaired and placed in a box under my bed.

 Then Hannah discovered the perfect place to create a room for her dollhouse:  behind the sliding doors in the headboard of her bed.  She designed this charming room and then quickly slid the door closed so that it would remain undisturbed by anyone other than her and Sarah.

 There is something so enthralling about a room in miniature: so restful, so beguiling in its hiddenness; something out of The Borrowers.  I wouldn't mind living there.

 Grandma Anne (the giver of the gift) couldn't resist the purchase of this dollhouse because as a child she had always longed for a dollhouse of her own.  Thus, like so many of us, her gift to her granddaughter was really a gift that she herself had hoped for; which brings me to my next few photos.

 No, Hannah did not receive a scooter as a gift!  However, Dave's dad, growing up in that unique way of rural poverty that is at once lacking in everything yet somehow full of all that matters, spent much of his youth longing for a bike.

 Now, as a very successful accountant and farmer, he has a basement and garage filled with bikes of all sorts.  This scooter is one of the latest.  His collection makes me laugh each time that I walk through the garage and see another bicycle added; sort of like the one concession to his childhood.

Like his wife, his gifts to his grandchildren are similarly inspired by his own youthful desire.  I can safely say that almost every one of our children's bikes (except for one tricycle) have come from Grandpa Mike.  The first two tricycles were a birthday gift to the twins, as were their first two-wheelers and then all the subsequent bikes into which they grew.  Somehow all of this gift giving (from two quiet and unemotional grandparents) is strikingly endearing.  It speaks of a love that is articulated in great generosity and sincerity.