Just a few thoughts from the laptop of one middle-aged female, struggling to find meaning in both blessing and suffering. Existential angst gnaws at my soul like a rat gnawing on a discarded chicken bone. Having spent a significant number of years coming to terms with the dysfunction of my childhood, I must now sit back helplessly as my grandson emerges from the deconstruction of his parents’ ruined marriage. He has been in this world for less than two years- and during that time, he has only known his father to be the fellow who visits at circumscribed periods during the week. The abandonment issues this child will face are gargantuan. The lies and slander that my son has had to endure boggles the mind. How people can call themselves ‘christian’, and yet flagrantly spew forth poisonous and totally ungrounded falsehoods! For as long as Joshua has been in this world, my son has had to fight tooth and nail for every scrap of time that he spends with him. Like begging for crumbs at the end of a meal. It is grossly, and obscenely unfair. Forget the fact that we, as grandparents, are being denied the opportunities to bond and establish a close and loving relationship with Joshua. No, his mother would rather he be in daycare, where ‘experts’ can look after him. I fear that the decisions that she is making, all in the name of power and control, will one day come back to haunt her. In the meantime, Joshua is being deprived of young and healthy grandparents, and a father who is desperate to forge a strong and lasting connection with him. The universe is not fair.