If you just glanced in their direction, they looked like many other young couples you might see in our area. With a quick scan, they seemed the kind of couple that may leave some of us wanting to eat healthier and update our hair style.
Tall, well-manicured and clean-shaven, carrying themselves with an ease and confidence that was anything but hurried.

So when the waddling blonde who stretched just to the top of their knees and sucking a pink binky reached for grown-up arms, I wasn’t sure if I was looking at mom and dad or grandma and grandpa.

I studied him, the way his gray started above his ears and sloped down to his neck like sunglasses with a neck strap. I searched her face for wrinkles and blotchy skin. But I couldn’t really tell from the mixed messages of her lustrous, A-line bob and his dark wash, bootcut jeans. It could have gone either way: they started having kids early…or late.

The guitar of our lead worship pastor strummed, voices harmonized. I was singing. And I was still looking at the seats in front of me.

Little one wanted up, and so she was.
Little one was bored, so the Iphone she played.
Little one was tired, and so they rocked.

Snuggles, snacks, Siri. All of it was marveled by the two adults taking care of her.

That’s how I figured it out, of course, that they were grandparents. They were much too patient.