Brittany's Little Peanut

A week ago I was asking if I was too young to be a grandpa. Tonight I'm wondering how much longer I will be one. Peanut was born on Monday morning at 8:08 a.m. and everything seemed right with the world. There were ten fingers and ten toes just like it's supposed to be. But, shortly after the delivery, nurses began scurrying around the nursery plugging Peanut up to this machine and that monitor, and putting tubes in here and suctioning there . . . it was disturbing. A time when surrounded by family and friends that should be filled with so much joy was quickly spiraling downward toward an uncertain end. It's now been three days of waiting, hoping and praying for a miracle. Peanut is sleeping in a new ICU at Texas Children's Hospital in Houston's famed Medical Center -- a place where the odds are beaten and miracles happen every day. His mom and grandmother are sleeping nearby at the House that Ronald McDonald built. An incredible prayer chain has been forged in the past few days with strong links from coast-to-coast. Some of these links are family, some are friends, but many are people that I have never met, in fact I will probably never meet. These are friends of friends, prayer partners from church congretations and businesses in states far from Texas all speaking to our Father in a single voice asking that Landon get well. It's incredible to think that there are hundreds, maybe thousands of people praying for Brittany's little Peanut tonight. I am indebted to them all. Tomorrow we hope to see some small improvement, always holding on to hope and knowing that a life with Landon would be so much more fulfilling and fun for us all. A week ago I was asking if I was too young to be a grandpa. Tonight I'm wondering how much longer I'll be one.

I'm Too Young To Be A Grandpa

I'm too young to be a grandpa; at least that's what I thought eight months ago when I was told about Peanut. Peanut is my grandson. I'm going to meet him for the first time sometime after 7 a.m. on Monday morning. His real name, the name given to him by his mom, is Landon Michael Stowe. But at least for now, I'm going to call him Peanut. In all honesty, Peanut was unexpected. In a perfect world Brittany woulda, coulda, shoulda waited, but things happen and once they do you forgive and accept, then make the best of the situation. But one thing's for sure, having seen the physical obstacles that have been overcome and the incredible turn-around in Britt's life since finding out that she was expecting, Peanut is a miracle baby indeed. I'm too young to be a grandpa. Brittany has told me that my new handle will be Pops when Peanut comes home to live with us. Pops. It has a nice sound . . . not too geriatric. I never had a nickname as a kid other than the one that Mr. Owens, my elementary school P.E. coach, used to call me. He'd yell, "Hey Crisco. Get the lard out!" as I ran laps around the dusty gravel playground at Midway Elementary. You have to admit that Pops beats Crisco by a long shot. Peanut and Pops. It does sound pretty good. So, maybe I'm not too young to be a grandpa afterall. I guess I'll find out on Monday morning.