By DAVID EPPS
Pastor

This past week, our seven-year-old granddaughter spent Saturday night with my wife and me and went to church with us the next morning. We have four wonderful grandchildren.

Tori is the oldest. Next is Tristan, age 6, followed by Isaac at 5. Sam, the youngest, is 3 (or is it 4?). I am pretty much convinced that grandchildren are God's reward for not killing your own children when they were teenagers.

As we were preparing for bed, I said, "Tori, your'e seven now. That's getting pretty old. Where do you want to sleep?"

Looking at me as though I were daft, she replied, "I'm going to sleep with you and Granny (the chosen name for Cindy, my wife)."

"But Tori, you are seven years old!"

Her brow furrowed as she said simply, "So?"

"Where are you going to sleep when you are ten?"

"With you and Granny."

"What about when you are 15?"

"With you and Granny."

"But what if you were 20 or 30?"

"Even when I get to be 80, Im going to sleep with you and Granny."

Well, that would put me at about 124 years old, so that's not too likely, I mused. As she looked at me with that bright smile and innocent face, I smiled.

She will not want to sleep with us too much longer, of course. Sooner or later, she will be a big girl and expect her own room with her own bed when she spends the night. All too soon, her time will be taken up with concerns other than Barbie dolls, Crayola crayons, and making cookies with Granny. All too soon she will be a young lady and then, overnight, she will blossom into a woman.

But not just yet. No, thankfully, not just yet. It's a curious time for me, having this little flower in my home. I have one brother but no sisters. Cindy and I had three sons, but no daughters. We also have three grandsons.

I come from a long line of males. My father was one of nine children, seven of them boys. Girls are a new experience and a mystery for me.

By Old Testament standards, I am a blessed man, with all these boys around. I understand boys. Boys are full of testosterone and break things just because they can. My grandsons scare the bejabbers out of me by playing parachute and leaping with full abandon from the seventh step (or the tenth step) of the stairwell in our foyer to the hardwood floor below.

Boys get a stick and poke and prod at snakes in the yard. Boys crowd into a clothes closet full of winter clothes, shut the door, and light matches to see what will happen. Boys jump off the diving board into deep water knowing full well that they can't swim.

We have friends who had two beautiful daughters. Life was smooth and calm. Then a son was born. One Sunday morning, as she came into church, a look of exasperation on her face and dragging the stubborn man-child behind her, all she could do was look at me and say, "David, my God!" My wife, who has a Ph.D. in nursing and knows a great deal about these and other matters, says that all males are the victims of testosterone poisoning.

Girls are definitely not boys. Ive never watched a little girl in the process of growing up. It is a fascinating experience. The boys, when they stay over, never want to sleep with Granny and Pop. In fact, they'd just as soon sleep outside in the woods, if we'd let them.

My youngest son used to get up in the middle of the night and set traps. He said it was in case bad guys broke into the house, but the only people who ever crashed to the ground were his older brothers.

Boys must be on the move and doing something. They want to play war and shoot things. We had friends once who forbade toy guns in their house. It was all to no avail. Their two sons made guns out of sticks and bazookas out of tree limbs. Boys are warriors from the beginning.

Tori, on the other hand, sits in my lap and lets me brush her hair. She helps Granny clean up in the kitchen and she enjoys reading stories. Sometimes, she will just kiss us for no apparent reason.

Then, when the lights are out, she crawls between us, reaches out to touch us both, and sleeps the repose of the innocent. The other morning, I awoke at 4 a.m. The light from the street lamp dimly lit the bedroom as I lay beside her and watched her sleep for the next hour.

It will all come to an end sometime in the near future. Oh, she will visit us and spend the night, but she will rest in solitude in the other bedroom down the hall. Inevitably, she will grow up and begin to cease being a little girl. But not just yet. No, thankfully, not just yet.

[David Epps is rector of Christ the King Charismatic Episcopal Church in Peachtree City. He may be contacted at FatherDavidEpps@aol.com or at www.ChristTheKingCEC.com.]

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