A fun breakfast

I thought when my last of three sons left home for the U. S. Air Force several years ago that my involvement with schools, candy sales, and athletics was over. I would now be an “empty nester” with free time galore on my hands to read, or to fish, or just to putter about.

I was, oh, so wrong. Parents beget children and children get married and beget grandchildren. The cycle of attending events and games, it seems, is an eternal one.

I am blessed to have nine grandchildren (so far). Tori (Victoria is her formal name) is 11. Tristan is 10, Isaac is 9, Sam is 8, Jackie is 6, Payton is 3, Ellie is 2, and Cassia and Addison are both under a year old.

The ages are approximate. I’m not sure exactly how old they all are but I’m pretty close.

Last Wednesday morning, I had a “Grandparent’s Breakfast” at school with Tristan. A “Grandparent’s Breakfast” is an event at the elementary school where you, the grandparent, pay money for a breakfast that you wouldn’t normally eat and, afterwards, spend money on the kid at the “book fair” that is, in essence, a fund-raiser for the school.

When I arrived at the school, I asked for assistance and the nice lady said, “Whose home room is he in?” I replied, “I have nine grandchildren. I’m fortunate if I can remember all their names!” I’ve already been to one other fund-raiser “Grandparent’s Lunch” with another grandson and I anticipate a couple of more to come.

Of the nine grandchildren, five of them are in sports, every week, right now. Tori plays softball, Tristan soccer, Sam baseball, Isaac football, and Jackie plays soccer. If all of them have 10 games, that’s 50 games to attend in the span of 10 weeks.

It’s not like there’s a soccer season, a football season, a baseball season, and a softball season. They play the darn games all year round in spring ball, summer ball and fall ball. It’s entirely possible that, in the next few years, I could have grandchildren playing sports with 90 games every 10 weeks.

It’s not like I’m retired either. My schedule demands many hours per day, sometimes seven days a week. But the truth is that I enjoy the breakfasts and lunches even if the schools do take money out of my wallet and, if I could, I’d be at every athletic event the grandkids are in.

They are better athletes than I was at that age and I even think they are better athletes than their parents were at a comparable age. Jackie and Tristan both score goals, Sam can belt a baseball, Isaac is a natural football player, and Tori recently completed an unassisted double play in the last inning, with girls on base, to end the game and preserve an undefeated record.

I don’t know if they will carry with them the memory that I attended their games every week when I could. I can’t always go to five games a week, but I try to see each of them play several times during the season. Will they remember me pacing the sidelines? Will they recall hearing my loud mouth screaming encouragement? When they are grandparents, will they remember that I came to every grandparent’s meal that I could?

Will they remember that my chest swelled with pride when they gave their best and that I threw an arm around them when they lost? Will they remember that the scores of photographs in the album recalling their adventures on the athletic fields were taken by a man who felt that his own life was worth living due to their presence on the earth?

I do, of course, always remember their names, though their birth dates escape me sometimes. I don’t know the names of their homeroom teachers or the names of their coaches, but I recall every detail of their faces and the sound of their voices, whether they play sports or not.

I used to think that love was like a pie and, the more kids or grandkids one had, the smaller the piece of pie each kid received. Now I understand that if God gives you multiple children or even nine grandchildren, he gives you a whole extra pie of love to go with each new boy or girl.

I don’t go to school lunches or breakfasts for the food and I don’t really go to the athletic events to watch the games. I go simply to be with these marvelous boys and girls — these divine gifts — that God has put in my life.

The Bible says that children are a “reward” and a “heritage.” Grandchildren, however, are God’s way of letting us know that our lives here mattered, that our existence had meaning and purpose, that we will not be forgotten quite so soon, and that we left this planet a better place filled with better people than we found it. It’s the sweetest pie of all.