by Tina N. Campbell | Scribed in Light
“Some people treat grandparenting like a crown or a rite of passage — something they automatically earn when their kids have kids. Like a sparkly glass slipper waiting at the ball, just their size.”
But I’ve never seen it that way.
For me, grandparenting isn’t an entitlement. It’s an invitation — a holy whisper that says, “Here… hold this piece of heaven for a while.”
This morning, I get to watch over my darling granddaughter — and let me tell you, it feels like someone ladled a spoonful of heaven right into my soul.
She’s all softness and sunshine, the kind of joy that doesn’t need words. When my eyes settle and rest upon hers, I look deep into her in wonder — imagining who she will become to the world… because she is already everything to me.
My mind drifts toward the life moments waiting before her — the laughter, the heartbreak, the discoveries, the quiet nights, the dawns of change. And I find myself praying that I can offer her every drop of wisdom, strength, compassion, and grace within me… enough to give her a safe, secure landing into all that she is meant to be.
Because that’s what love does — it builds a soft place to fall. Not with perfection, but with presence.
I’ve watched plenty of people step into grandparenting like it’s owed to them. Like it just happens because biology said so. But I know better.
Nothing about love is automatic.
It’s chosen. It’s shown. It’s nurtured.
And me? I’m over here wide-eyed and breathless, still wondering how on earth I got picked for this miracle.
Mark my words though: when one of my kids calls from afar and says, “Mom, can you tap in for a little Nana time?” — I don’t stroll in all casual.
Oh no.
I COME IN HOT.
Fully loaded with snacks, lullabies, goofy faces, unconditional love, and enough Nana-energy to power a small city.
Because when the Cinderella slipper doesn’t fit…
you stop trying to squeeze into someone else’s glass expectations.
You kick those shoes off, plant your feet in the grace you’ve been given, and start dancing barefoot.
Today, that dance looks like rocking a sleepy little angel whose tiny fingers are tangled in my heartstrings. Her breathing slows, her lashes flutter, and for a moment — the world stands still.
This… this is what heaven must taste like.
A Whisper to the Reader
Take a breath.
Look at the faces — big or small — that are entrusted to your love today.
Don’t rush through the miracle of ordinary moments.
There’s holiness hidden there… waiting to be held.
“And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love.
But the greatest of these is love.”
— 1 Corinthians 13:13
May your slipper never fit the world’s mold — only the rhythm of your own barefoot grace.
—Tina N. Campbell | Scribed in Light
Scribed In Light 
Leave a Reply