Two days ago I became a “Great—Grandpa” for the first time. Now I always knew that I was great, this just confirmed it. I will say, of all my roles that I have lived out, being a grandpa is my all time favorite. Mateo’s oldest kid, Michaela and her husband Craig, welcomed Zealan Mateo Roybal, 7 lb. 11 oz., into the world. The biggest debate in the Roybal house right now is whether or not he is a Forty—Niners fan or stays with the family cult of Broncos faithful. Oh yes, there is one Great—Grandma who somehow loves the Chiefs.
Yesterday I got to hang out with my 15 year—old granddaughter who fills me in on a world that seems far removed. Today my 32 year-old grandson Zach, came by to do everything from fixing our disposal to rubbing my neck. They are all my favorite… just ask them.
There are lots of cliches about being a grandparent, they are all true. I want to talk about the Great-Grandpa moniker. When I think of a great grandparent, they are in the staid family photos with gray beards and wrinkled faces. Someone might point at the photo and say “Who is that”? “Well, let me think … is that Great—Grandpa Josiah”? I mostly have fooled myself into thinking there will be a photographic record of my life; I will exist in that realm called The Cloud, along with 3.5 trillion other meaningful moments.
I am most happy for my son Mateo, and Melania. They get to experience a joy watching and sharing in this little boy’s growing up. I get to watch them.
In an hour I will FaceTime our crew in California. This very iPad will host a conversation with a daughter, a five year-old who will most likely be showing us her latest dance moves, and an 18 month tank who loves to show us things and his latest climbing move.
On my mantle sits a picture of our Great-Grandpa, Charles Stout. His life was a testimony to resilience and service. I never knew him, but his impact on my life was G R E A T.
Onward and Upward
Mark
Lyfting Me Up 