There, all the time

My grandson, Eli, like a lot of children his age (3 years) is fascinated with dump trucks. Actually he loves trucks of any kind, but he loves dump trucks because several dump trucks park not far from where we live.

Whenever he visits us, I know what he wants me to do when he says, “Go see the dump trucks, PopPop.”

We get in the car and visit the dump trucks.

So, for his birthday this past September, we got him a motorized, battery operated truck. The decal on the side says, “Ford F-150,” but whenever he wants it to be a dump truck, we call it a dump truck.

The little guy travels all over our front and back yard in his truck. The other day, he was putting rocks in the “bed” of his truck.

“Where ya hauling those rocks, Eli?” I asked him.

“Nana’s,” he told me, referring to his paternal grandmother.

At once, he put it in gear and sped toward our back yard, glancing back at me as he turned the corner of our house, making sure I was still watching him.

I was.

And so I accepted his silent invitation to follow. But I had another motive in tailing him: I wanted to make sure he was safe.

Having successfully arrived in the back, he asserted his independence. “Now go back PopPop. I want to go by myself.”

I hid behind the corner of the house and spied on him.

Eli turned to see if I had gone and caught me peeking at him.

“No, PopPop,” he giggled, amused by my sneakiness.

So we played the game: He would beg, “No, PopPop. I wanna go by myself.” Then he would turn back around to drive his truck, look in my direction and catch me peeking. Each time he saw me, he giggled uncontrollably, like he does when I tickle his ribs.

We played that way for several minutes, until I decided to let him have his way, sort of. I hid behind the corner, only this time I did retreat.

But not completely.

I raced around the front of the house to the opposite side, hid behind a bush, and watched to see what Eli would do without me there.

What I saw was Eli’s little rear-end as he was peering around the corner, looking for his PopPop. Assured of my absence, he dashed back to his truck, hopped in, but instead of driving further away, he reversed course and started driving back to the front where I had been.

I ran back to the front as fast as I could, arriving just as he was driving around the corner.

“Wow, Eli,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t notice that I was winded, “you drove all that way by yourself.”

“Yep,” he beamed, as if he had just passed his first driver’s test.

Later, I couldn’t help but think of God, my heavenly Father.

In my zeal to explore the world, to test my capabilities, to cross boundaries, he hasn’t held me back. And when I with healthy fear knew it was time to fall back, he didn’t shame me.

He has kept me safe in ways I likely will never know, at least this side of eternity. He has been there, around the corner, behind the bush, his eye on me, one of his beloved children, enjoying life with me, even (dare I say it?) laughing with me, maybe placing just the right person in my path at just the right time to direct me, perhaps sending an angel here and there to guide me.

And always when I arrived at my destination, having achieved a dream or returned to where I started the journey, he would be there to whisper in my ear, “Well done, David, look at what you did.”

And I could smile, because I knew it was him.

He was there.

All the time.