Among our church members, there is an elderly deaconess couple who occasionally invite my husband and me to breakfast at a local diner on Wednesday mornings. They retired from the laundry business several years ago and now enjoy life by caring for their granddaughter. Since their daughter-in-law has Wednesdays off, the couple also spends the day freely.

I always enjoy conversations with them. Having lived upright lives, their thoughts are both progressive and grounded. They embrace American life wholeheartedly, and their faith is seamlessly woven into every part of their daily living. Through candid conversations about the world and stories about their granddaughter, I often discover deep wisdom and truths about life.

They have two married sons. The eldest married five years ago and has a four-year-old daughter. The second son married two years ago and is expecting his first child early next year. During a casual conversation, I was surprised to hear the deaconess say, “We told our second son to bring his baby too—we’ll take care of that one as well.” I exclaimed, “Really? You’ll care for both grandchildren? Isn’t that too much?” But they shared their heartfelt philosophy about grandparenting.

“When I was growing up, my grandmother always carried me on her back. She loved me so dearly—whether working in the fields or doing chores, she never put me down. She carried me so much that the hem of her skirt wore out. Now, as I approach seventy, I still can’t forget her tender love. As I care for my granddaughter, I often think, ‘This must be how my grandmother raised me.’ Watching her busy little head all day—climbing chairs, turning on the TV, trying to fix broken toys with a screwdriver—I feel like I’m studying human history all over again. And when she suddenly runs to me, wraps her tiny arms around my neck, presses her face against mine, and touches my hair with her little hands, my heart overflows with joy and gratitude. I wonder, where else could I receive such love?” As she spoke, the deaconess blushed and teared up. Known for her stern demeanor and principled actions, seeing this soft and warm side of her moved me deeply.

“Some of our friends think I’m crazy for watching the kids. They say we’ve worked hard all our lives and deserve to rest. But what does it mean to be comfortable? Isn’t true happiness found when we live doing what humans are meant to do? Americans even take in abandoned children, raise them through hardship, and send them to college. So how much more should I care for my own grandchildren with love and purpose?” Listening to them, I couldn’t help but bow my head in respect. What greater reward is there than finding meaning and purpose in whatever one does?

I was reminded of an old anecdote. In 1666, the Great Fire of London destroyed the city, including 55 churches such as St. Paul’s Cathedral. King Charles II commissioned Sir Christopher Wren to rebuild. One day, Wren visited the construction site and asked three stonemasons what they were doing. The first replied, “I’m cutting stones to fit the wall.” The second said, “I’m working to feed my wife and children.” The third answered, “I’m building a great cathedral.” Though they were doing the same task, each had a different vision—and that shaped the meaning and outcome of their work.

Caring for children at home after retirement is certainly not easy. But this deaconess never considered entrusting her grandchildren to others. With love and devotion, she embraces the task of raising future leaders, not as a burden but as a joy. Her attitude is truly admirable and beautiful. In today’s world, where both parents often work, having grandparents who can care for the children is a tremendous blessing. And when the younger generation expresses sincere gratitude and love for their parents’ help, those elders will find their days filled with joy and purpose.

After finishing our cheerful breakfast, I returned home thinking about their granddaughter. With her short ponytail and adorable dress, running freely through the church fellowship hall, little Jinhee made me think—perhaps for the first time—that I too might want to raise a granddaughter someday.

by WanHee Yoon, October 6, 1999