A special bond exists between my wife, Nancy, and my granddaughter, Landrye.

That's how it should be.  After all, Nancy has invested hours and hours in Landrye.  Trips to school and Bible class, board games, zoo and museum trips, pretend games, books read, songs sung, and those indescribable moments that come only when one person is just there for someone else.

And so these two very important people in my life share a relationship that gladdens me and delights me.  I am a spectator to a wondrous glimpse of God -- seen in the way they brighten in each other's presence.

I'm not in that special grandmother-granddaughter club.  Yet, Landrye's love overflows to me through small things.  Like this morning when she took my hand on the way into church and chose a seat by me. 

And in her insistence that I ride in the back seat with her as Nancy chauffeured us to the pizza parlor.  And when she looked to me as a mythical champion of arcade games -- a reputation earned by the lucky punch of a button that landed a jackpot of 250 tickets.  And the way she says "Grampa" and giggles at my silliness.

That overflow washes over me constantly.  And it matters little whether I have earned Landrye's attention.  She gladly lavishes it on me. 

I've spent a lifetime trying to grasp the concept of God's grace.  Could it be that I am finally gaining my best understanding through the smile and the hugs of a five-year old angel?