A Lovely Afternoon

August 1, 2018


I said I would never be one of “those” grandmothers. My how times change.


My granddaughter (did I mention I have one, and she the most beautiful child ever born?) celebrated her seven-month birthday by spending the afternoon at my house. She consented to a two-hour nap in a playpen, all the better for me to dig into Walter Brueggemann’s commentary on Psalm 51. Each to her own!


Then she arose with a shout, and a few indignant tears at time wasted. We repaired to the patio, where she enjoyed the breeze and the sights whilst emerging into full consciousness. Such a yawning and wriggling and skygazing, punctuated by complete relaxation, her back upon the bosom of her venerable grandmother. The cicadas were roaring, dragonflies hitting the back patio doors, clouds drifting silent in blue sky—she was enchanted. So was I. All the more when a swallow-tailed kite swooped and swiveled through our airspace.  This small raptor is a heart-stab of bright-sad for me, every time I see one.  I wonder what Amelia’s special bird will be?


After patio time we undertook a yard patrol—she got to finger three kinds of tree bark: Wax myrtle, crape myrtle, and Chinese elm, the bark of which came off in her hand.  Guess where the bark went next?




We went out front for the mail: as soon as the metal door dropped open she reached for the contents in the cavern. Duluth Trading Company catalog—she quivered at the prospect! Inside again I allowed her to peruse it, which to her meant crumpling, shredding, and gumming the pages. Then I fed her some bananas, she wobbling about in her walker and I aiming for her mouth the best I could. Some time at the sink was required. Reminds me of scene featuring her father (l) and uncle (r):

A130 brothers, pudding.jpg

Below is her busy seven month old self, wriggling around on the sunporch. Already she’s quite engaged with this life. I call it Divine Imperative. “The Glory of God is a human being, fully alive.”



Happy birthday, Amelia!

Author: Phoebe Dishman

Phoebe H. Dishman was born and raised in Beaumont, Texas. She is a wife, mother, and grandmother. An essayist and poet, she teaches adult Sunday school, compiles a monthly prayer calendar, edits the Big Thicket Association quarterly bulletin, and keeps a keen eye and ear open for birds.

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