Blog: The New Earth
by Deborah Lockett

Gift to a Great-Grandchild

Today I start doing what a blog is supposed to be for – chronicling my daily personal life. I live in Tenerife, the largest of the seven islands in the Canaries Archipelago, off the coast of Africa.

Date:   1/6/2006 3:02:43 AM   ( 15 y ) ... viewed 3187 times

Before I can go on to tell today's "story" (absolutely true) you will need to bear with me while I introduce four of the people in my life.

"Grandad" is my father-in-law, George. He "died" 18 years ago at the age of 75.

Although I am aware of many people in Spirit helping me with my life – including even a teacher I had in primary school in the early 1960's – Grandad is the only person in Spirit whom I am certain is in my life, as he has proved his presence to me again and again until it has become irrefutable.

"Leopoldo" is a middle-aged man with the mind of a child and a heart several times bigger than any one else I know. He is the archetypal Shaman. He spends a lot of his time in my street, and often sits on my doorstep. The sub-tropical climate enables him to live outdoors during the day.

At night I presume – although I'm not sure – that he sleeps in the Psychiatric Hospital at the top of my street, as he wears freshly laundered clothes.

He behaves the same with me as with everyone else in the street. He grabs you by the arm and holds his radio to your ear, then tells you to dance to the music. I have never seen him anything less than happy, and he never lets anyone get away from him without a broad smile on their face.

In the cobbler's shop and the chemist's at the bottom of the street, I've seen him sitting in the chair provided for elderly customers, and in the cobblers I've seen him eating a sandwich that someone must have bought for him.

I often see him in animated conversation with a passer by, and he's respected and loved by everyone.

"Valentina" is my 15-year-old daughter who lives with me. She's expecting a baby which, although only recently conceived, has already had a dramatic life.

There was an emotional tug-of-war where Valentina demanded an abortion and got her doctor and teachers to support her; meanwhile I exercised my legal right to veto her operation, ignoring her threats of suicide, or a self-induced abortion.

And so, against all odds, my grandson is set to be born in June; and Grandad's gift to him is the subject of today's story. I say grandson because the person who is set to occupy the baby's body has a male feeling to him.

In the street outside my flat are two communal refuse bins. These are a kind of Pandora's Box that has yielded many of the useful and beautiful items that adorn my flat. The Canarians are in the habit of recycling their unwanted items and when they buy something new, if the old item is still usable they will leave it beside the bins instead of putting it inside, so someone else can pick it up if they need it.

Well, yesterday when I came back home, on the doorstep was a medium sized cardboard box printed with the words "Para Bebé" (For Baby). It was decorated with a nursery scene in pink and blue.

I picked the box up and it was empty inside. Immediately I understood – this was Grandad's gift to his great-grandson on the eve of Reyes: the Feast of the Three Kings on 6th January, the present-giving day of the festive season throughout Spain.

I imagine Leopoldo fished the box out of one of the bins, although why he put it on our doorstep instead of somewhere else I don't know, because there is no way he could know Val is pregnant – her bump hardly shows yet. I guess he must have done it through a telepathic message from Grandad.

And inside the box? Within the empty space, in potential form, was everything the little boy could possibly need during his first six months of life: his layette, his Moses basket, his teething ring …

Grandad's message? "My great-grandson and his mother are under my special care. I shall see that they have everything they need."

Grandad "died" before Valentina was born, but the fact that she never knew him doesn't seem to matter to him.

This story has a curious ending. This morning on getting up, I saw that last night Valentina had brought home with her some newly purchased items: a pair of baby bootees and a pale blue velvet suit to fit a newborn, a baby bath wrap and a small teddy bear.

Were these things gifted by her friends, or did she buy them herself? Could it be that at last, her little son has managed to find a place in her heart?

And so from Tenerife, bye until next time …

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