I have a new grandchild, a boy. My heart is swollen with joy that he and his mother have begun their sacred journey together with both in good health.
The beats of my drum carry the promises I make to my grandson into the spiritual lodges of our ancestors, where they are heard and not forgotten. The centre of the forest circle where I went to pray on the day of my grandson’s birth accepted my tobacco offering along with the placenta I retrieved from the hospital after the birth had occurred. The voice of a bird called out to me there, telling me the name my grandson carries in the spirit world. The spirits of the land which gathered around me bore witness to my sacred vow, that I would do all I could to see to it that my grandson will grow into a man who will always honour and respect women. My grandson will be protective of the women he loves and do all he can to help them regain the powers they had but lost long ago. I promised too, that my grandson’s steps would be gentle on the land. I will see to it.
Hear my prayer, Great Spirit, that little heart now filled with the bounty of your love, carries the blood of my grandfathers and grandmothers. Their memories abound in its freshness. I bring my grandson’s heart into mine and say to him:
“As the day passes into night and as the seasons unfurl their greatness, giving purpose to all life on the land, I will teach you, my grandson, and stand by your side through your joys and sorrows and I will love you into and beyond eternity.”
A grandchild is a heart, a soul, a wind whose presence and songs can uplift the deflated spirits of a grandparent and carry them on high to soar with the eagles.