I’ve thought about this a lot since we became grandparents over four years ago. As our kids were growing up and entering adulthood, I encountered people who had become grandparents tell us what’s great about being a grandparent is that you can enjoy your grandkids and then send them home. That seemed kind of hard-hearted when I heard it, or they didn’t really appreciate what they had, but I understand what they were saying now.

Raising children is a young person’s game and it’s a lot of work, especially when they’re young. Our daughter and son-in-law have three kids four and under, and it’s a challenge to say the least. My wife experiences it daily during the week as she sits the kids with our daughter who works from home. Praise God they live five minutes away and she can do that, but it’s a grind for a grandparent, even more exhausting than for the parents. It’s an incredible blessing and she loves it, but when she comes home at the end of the day the benefit of being a grandparent is obvious.

I was inspired to write this when I saw a post on Twitter/X where a guy whose children are just entering adulthood asks:

Don’t we all miss our babies? Does this feeling come back when you become a grandparent?

It depends on what feeling he’s talking about, but yes, we most certainly do miss them, which I’ll muse on below, but for us being grandparents is a completely different feeling.

I remember vividly how I felt when our daughter finally decided to make her entrance into the world after a grueling labor for my wife. I loved her instantly; it was total and complete. I had previously told my sister that I liked children and all, and looked forward to having them, but nothing prepares you for the love and emotion welling up inside you when it’s your child. My first thought through the flowing tears was, “There is a God!” It was by far the most profound thing I’d ever experienced in my 31 years of life. God is the only explanation for new life. As a Christian, knowing these feelings are in some way analogous to how God the Father feels about us, his people in Christ,  is incredibly comforting given how terribly imperfect we all are. Do we love and feel any less emotionally connected to our children because they are rotten little scoundrels sometimes? Well, I guess that depends when you ask the question, but having children teaches us unconditional love, and that is what God the Father poured out on us his children in Jesus on the cross.

But back to this-worldly realities. After a couple of days at the hospital, we were almost shocked they were letting us take her home. I thought, nobody’s coming with us? Somehow, she survived, obviously. I remember spending time just looking at her asleep in her crib and marveling. It was the most incredible thing I’d ever seen! I’d get emotional with the marvel of it all, of God giving us this little creature, of letting us co-create with him a new life on earth and for eternity. Just entirely too heavy.

Thinking about this reminds me of this passage from a book by Whitaker Chambers. He became famous in mid‑20th century Cold War America because of his association with convicted Soviet spy and American government official, Alger Hiss. In his magisterial autobiography Witness, Chambers tells the story of his life, including his conversion from atheistic communism to Christianity. The profound turning point in his journey came from something you’ll never guess: His daughter’s ear. Every parent knows how exactly he felt, even if it doesn’t lead them to Christ, which it should.

My daughter was in her highchair. I was watching her eat. She was the most miraculous thing that had ever happened in my life. I liked to watch her even when she smeared porridge on her face or dropped it meditatively on the floor. My eye came to rest on the delicate convolutions of her ear—those intricate, perfect ears. The thought passed through my mind: “No, those ears were not created by any chance coming together of atoms in nature (the Communist view). They could have been created only by immense design.” The thought was involuntary and unwanted. I crowded it out of my mind. But I never wholly forgot it or the occasion. I had to crowd it out of my mind. If I had completed it, I should have had to say: Design presupposes God. I did not then know that, at that moment, the finger of God was first laid upon my forehead.

Unless you’re a parent you have no idea what these feelings for your little children are like. It’s the purest emotional love imaginable. I see it in my daughter now as she beams when she’s with them, holding them, or even talking about them. It’s so incredibly special to see this experienced in the next generation, to relate to exactly how she’s feeling, and also, sadly, how fleeting it is.

The Depressing Passage of Time
This is another huge and inevitable difference between being a parent and a grandparent. When you’re in the middle of raising children, you have no clue how fast it goes. You catch glimpses of it, of course, but nothing prepares you for the thief that is time. It steals our lives from us once second at a time and we don’t even realize it until we find it impossible to believe. Where did it go? How did I get here so quickly? The birth of a child, as any grandparent can tell you, seems like a hundred years ago and yesterday at the same time! It’s crazy, and only those getting closer to the end than the beginning can fathom its mystery, an unsolvable one. As Augustine said, everyone knows what time is, but when asked to describe it, we’re rendered mute.

The mystery of time and its passage is an obsession with me, as anyone who knows me will tell you. After our first grandchild was conceived, I turned to my wife and said, “In the year 2,100 she’ll be 78!” and she replied, reasonably, “Can you just let her be born first?” Good point. Well, that little one is now well on her way to 2,100, and she only has 74 years to go! Be here before ya know it! Now she’s as cute as a button, an impossibly cuteness cute. It just rips your heart out. The is where parents and grandparents are on the same page. Your grandkids are clearly the most adorable on the playground; isn’t it obvious! But her already being four is a reminder of how swiftly time is moving along. Now a little girl, before you know it she’ll be a teenager, and then a grown woman. It makes our daughter sad, a common feeling among parents, maybe more for mothers than fathers.

We have neighbors who have two boys who walk to and from the bus stop every day during the school year; I’ve been watching them for six years. One morning I was outside with our grandkids while my wife stopped by the house with them on the way to the park. The youngest of the two boys and his mother were passing on the way to the bus stop, and I said to the mom, “Wow, he’s becoming a little man!” and she replied, “I know! And it makes me so sad.” Welcome to the club! You want to capture time in a bottle like Jim Croce sang, to hold on to these moments forever, but they slip away as if like a child on the playground taunting you.

I’m reminded of this every day. A couple years ago we got this thing called a Frame, which is basically a slideshow within a picture frame. As we’re walking around the house, in and out of the backyard, closing and opening the nearest window, we see on the rolling display a kind of kaleidoscope of our lives, years or decades passing as one picture slides into the next. When I see our kids as children or teenagers, the family on memorable trips, more than once I’ve turned to my wife and said, “That’s depressing.” She agrees. Even though old people, like I am now, try to warn us when we’re young how quickly it goes, to appreciate it now because before you know it . . . . , we have no idea until it happens.

Solomon in Ecclesiastes says that God has put eternity into the heart of man, which is why we get sad when we begin to realize just how fleeting life is. We want to somehow capture forever these moments in bottle, and we know we can’t: the wages of sin . . . . In that sadness we perceive something of the reality of eternal life which in this “body of death,” as Paul calls it, we can’t have. But thanks be to God! As he also says, we will have it, and one day will be, as John tells us, where there is “no more death or mourning or crying or pain” for the old order of things will have passed away, praise God! Right now, this longing for eternity, as C.S. Lewis said about all human longing and desires, implies there is something existing that will fulfill it. That sure hope is what allows us not to be consumed by our sadness, and enjoy those fleeting moments God has so graciously granted us.