A Letter for My Unborn Grandchildren


I received this in an email and decided to rewrite it for my grandchildren who I do not have yet. I hope they read it some day.

My Daughter & My Son

I’d really like for you to know about hand-me-down clothes and Goodwill; homemade cookies decorated around the kitchen table with family and friends, sun tea and leftover meat loaf sandwiches. I really would.

I hope you learn humility by being humiliated, and that you learn honesty by being cheated.

I hope you learn to make your own bed and mow the lawn and wash the car. And while you are becoming more independent, I hope you learn how to cook your own supper (even if it’s something simple!) and wash your dishes by hand.

And I really hope nobody gives you a brand new car when you are sixteen.

I hope you get a black eye or a busted lip fighting for something you believe in. Let someone else start the fight but stand strong and finish. And I hope you don’t forget that feeling of righteous anger or the willingness to fight for what you really believe in, no matter the personal cost!

I hope you have to share a bedroom with your younger brother or sister, that it is a place where there is no TV or computers allowed because it is to be a safe haven where you can learn to talk with the only other person who understands how unfair your parents really are!

And it’s all right if you have to draw a line down the middle of the room, but when they want to crawl under the covers with you because they’re scared, I hope you let them.

When you want to see a movie and your little brother or sister wants to tag along, I hope you’ll let them. Or decide that maybe if you are embarrassed to take them along, you shouldn’t go either.

I hope you have to walk uphill to school with your friends and that you live in a town where you can do it safely.

On rainy days when you have to catch a ride, I hope you don’t ask your driver to drop you two blocks away so you won’t be seen riding with someone as uncool as your Mom.

I hope that when you want a slingshot, it’s your grandfather or your Dad that teaches you how to make one instead of buying one.

I hope you learn to dig in the dirt and make sand castles and read books and make forts out of furniture and blankets.

When you learn to use computers, I hope you also learn to add and subtract in your head.

I hope you get teased by your friends when you have your first crush, and when (notice I didn’t say “if”) you talk back to your mother, I hope that she teaches you what a bar of ivory soap tastes like.

I hope you skin your knee climbing a mountain, burn your finger on a stove and stick your tongue on a frozen flagpole. I hope you have snowball fights with friends, jump into a pile of fallen leaves that you’ve helped rake and do a belly-flop in the YMCA pool.

I don’t care if you try a beer once, but I hope that if a friend offers you dope or a joint, I hope you realize that he is not your friend.

I sure hope you make time to sit on a porch with your grandparents or join us for Sunday dinners, invite us to your school plays and scouting events and then, go fishing with your uncle.

Above all, I pray that God is always known in your home, that He fills your heart with dreams that you can only live out with Him by your side.

I pray that your faith gives you the courage to do the great things – to love the unlovable, to share mercy with the unmerciful, and to seek justice for the broken people.

These are just some of the things that I wish for you – tough times and disappointment, hard work and happiness. To me, it’s the only way to appreciate life. I’m here for you whatever this life brings … So let my love give you roots
And help you find your wings

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