A new Prince has finally made his entrance into the world. The boy (I thought it was going to be a girl) was born on Thursday at 11:26 PM. After an all-day affair, he came into this world via C-section weighing 6lbs, 15 ounces. Both mom and baby are doing great. What’s his name? Good question. They’ve had nine months to figure this one out… and they are still deciding. Stay tuned.

I am not biased in any way (cough cough), but he is the most handsome boy that has ever been born. I know what you are thinking: “There have been approximately 117 billion people born on planet earth. Roughly half of that number have been male. So how I can be certain that he is the cutest boy ever born?” Well, let’s just say, I have it on very good authority (Read: Karla).

Since this is my first piece written as a grandfather, I feel obligated to say, “Hey you kids get off my lawn! Don’t you know I am watching Wheel of Fortune and Matlock reruns?” (that was a joke, I rarely watch Matlock reruns). Grandparents already know the jumble of the emotions I’m feeling today. Joy. Love. Hopes. Dreams. Thankfulness. Nervousness. Faith. Worry. Trust.

I have so many questions: Will he dream of becoming a doctor, in healthcare IT (like his dad), a baseball player, carpenter, President or preacher? What will the world be like when he graduates high school (class of 2041)? Class of 41? Yikes, I’m old!

I never knew my dad’s dad. He died before my mom and dad even met. My Grandpa Keach died when I was 12 or 13 years old. He was a Ford Motor retiree from Missouri, smoked filter-less Camels, and drank Falstaff beer. He went to church one time in his life. As a teenager in Mexico, Missouri, he went to church wearing overalls (Probably holey. He was very poor). The “greeter” informed him that he wasn’t dressed properly and to return when he was wearing better clothes. He never went back. Not there. Not anywhere. My grandpa was a good man. I like to think that he had a relationship with the Lord, even if he didn’t feel welcome in the Lord’s House (thank you, Mr. Goober Greeter).

All this to say, I am not experienced in grandpa-ing. Of course, I saw mine and Karla’s dad as they “grandpa-ed” for my boys. My dad was slowing down a bit by the time my boys came around. Karla’s dad was a little more active (before Alzheimer’s Disease robbed him of his memory and life). But one thing is for sure, my boys knew that their grandpas loved them and loved Jesus too. 

I hope this lil’ dude sees that in me too. I want him to know that he is deeply loved by his grandparents (not just Karla and me, but Blaire’s side too) and, even more, loved by Jesus. I won’t be standing on the platform (unless I’m officiating) when he is brought forward for infant baptism or dedication, but I want him to see a grandpa that is dedicated to living before him a godly life. I’ll be praying for him daily (I’ve set my alarm to pray each day at the time he was born—11:26… AM…not PM… and probably not on Sunday’s since, I’ll be preaching most weeks).

We’ve got to get to Kansas and greet him properly (next week). We need to give the Hugs, Kisses and Michigan/Motor City Sports gear. Train up a child in the way they should go, and when they are old they will not depart from it… (I don’t think that verse was referring to Tigers, Lions, Pistons, Red Wings of the Wolverines), but you know…

Hooray!! I’m a grandpa today!