It Gets No Better

 

By George Eleon Shuman

 

This evening, I sat in my recliner, or at least on ‘my’ end of a reclining couch in our living room, with one of my dearest friends snuggled right up against my right side. His name, chosen because of his mother’s faith that he has been chosen for important things, is Chosen.

At this writing, Chosen is about fifteen months old, and, he has, as has his nine-year-old sister Nahla, completely wrapped this old person around his tiny little fingers. I surrender willingly to that fact and really don’t care much what others think about it.

It is Lorna’s and my agreed, mutual opinion that we have been wonderfully and completely blessed with our great family. As of today we have five kids, (That number is unlikely to change.) about sixteen grandkids, (That number may change.) and four great grandkids, (That number IS going to change, for sure, and already includes one who will make his appearance sometime this coming April. I am quite anxious to meet him!)

 “What a brood,” some might say. To us, it is better said: “What a great God we have, to have blessed us so completely.” For sure, all those kids, grandkids, and greats are what Lorna’s and my lives are all about. But now, back to my buddy Chosen.

I have often called Chosen my little teddy bear. I think of him this way as he sits beside me on that couch, snuggling beside his papa, under the blanket on both our laps. He almost always chuckles as I drape the blanket over us so we can share the comfort and warmth. It is nearly a ritual as I put my arm around his back and hold him close. He then always wraps his little arms around my forearm, patting with tiny hands as he squeezes it. The ultimate feeling, at least for this papa, comes a few minutes later, as my Chosen slips into slumber beside me, and that adorable little head relaxes and presses against my arm; as this priceless child trusts his papa’s care as he sleeps.

Life? It gets no better than this.