One morning when my daughter was around 2 years old, I heard her calling me from her crib. She gave me a big bright smile and said “Mama, will you carry me?” I told her that I loved to carry her, and picked her up. As I was carrying her to the bathroom to get her dressed, she said “I used to carry you when you were little.” Since she had a fantastic imagination, I played along as usual saying something like “Oh yeah?” “Oh, yes, I was especially careful with you on the stairs.” she said. This struck me as an odd thing for a 2 year old to say, but I still played the game. I said, “What was your name when you used to carry me so carefully down the stairs?” I expected her to say something like Ariel, or Cinderella, but she replied “Stasha”. At which point I almost dropped her. Stasha was my grandmother’s Polish name. She had never heard it, and even if someone had mentioned her, they would have called her Grandma or Stella, the name she went by here.
I laughed so hard at the blessings God sends us in the most funny ways. My daughter was a gift so precious that I could hardly contain my gratitude, and her having a connection with my grandmother who I had also viewed as a gift put here only for me, brought laughter tears to my eyes. My daughter thought she told the best joke ever. Instead she had reminded me that we are eternally connected. Pure joy.