0 comments | published by Linda | May 09, 2012
Water shadows. I know that's not what they're called, but that's what I named them. After getting out of my neighbor's pool, I would watch the water that was tossed from my feet out in front of me on the pavement. Water shadows.
I knew if I hurried out front, and flattened myself against the hot sidewalk, I could make my first water shadow. After a moment, I would stand up, look at the design of me made of water, then moved forward to make another. I would continue on and on down the sidewalk until the shadow had become so small, it finally disappeared.
My favorite kind of day was when my dad was mowing the lawn. Probably not what he enjoyed most, but it made my summer day one to remember. I remember how the blades of grass would fly onto the edges of the sidewalk, and as I walked across them, they stuck to my feet. Grass shoes.
Life seemed better in a wet swimsuit. My hair stuck to my head, and smelled of chlorine. The rich smell of freshly cut grass was matched by the sun that would drench my back. With a piece of chalk, I would design my hopscotch squares. I wanted these days to last forever.
I could see my mom through the kitchen window, and I was certain she was making something warm and delicious that would be waiting for me. All was well.
Normal days. That's what it's about. Some focus on the magic of Christmas, or a loud birthday party, but what I treasure most are the memories in the corner of my mind...normal days. Connecting these together, one after another is what has made up the story of my life. These are the days I will relive in my mind and recall them as wonderful.
My kids have normal days. They also celebrate holidays. I mustn't overlook the mystery and value of a child's surroundings as he drinks in his family, his world. To give them normal days filled with wonder to create the story of their life is my hope. I know that just like the water shadows on the sidewalk, life moves on. The days are numbered, and will one day disappear. I want my children to follow my example, my trail of water shadows, continuing such joy to generations ahead.
0 comments | published by Linda | May 06, 2012
He thinks I'm silly. Maybe it's true. Once I have scrubbed, vacuumed, dusted, and even picked up the smashed blueberries that everyone has pretended not to see, I want the world to stop. I want that moment where I can feel its all perfect, clean and complete. I know this moment is short as it doesn't take long for my people to drop popcorn on the floor, spread their shoes across the room and mess up my pillows on the sofa.Carpet angels. That's all I ask for. I request that he take my little people out in order for me to smell the Pinesol and make carpet angels on my carpet that still shows the vacuum lines.Is there a chance I have lost sight of what matters? Have I forgotten who this is all about? I admit it. I like clean, probably more than most. Yet, if I notice my eyes are looking for perfection, I will most definitely not notice the people that matter to me most. My people are messy. Once I clean the room, they suddenly decide that's where they want to be. The open spaces must call to them for Legos, dolls, and yes, dirty socks.As I watch them fill the house with friends, toys, and crazy, I remember that this is where my eyes should be. Once my eyes are not focused on the petty messes, and what this explosion of toys might mean for me, I can return to loving them.
I work to provide a home for them where they can truly live it up. When on the sofa, or building castles on the carpet, they are actually drinking in my presence, finding joy in me. I can smile as I know this is everything I work for, and it is good.
Like my dinner table set with flowers, polka dot napkins and colorful plates, it's not perfect until there has been laughter, pots are emptied, plates made messy, crumbs scattered and napkins crumpled on the floor. This is perfect.
When I look at their faces as they transform the living room into a play land, the carpet lines disappear, but are replaced by my angels.
0 comments | published by Linda | December 30, 2011
After lying beside him as he slowly drifted off to sleep, I would quietly turn the monitor on and sneak out. I cleaned the dishes, and did other odd chores quickly that were much more difficult to do with one arm when he was awake.
If I moved around the house, I clipped the monitor to my clothes. I was always listening. There was peace because I was listening, and knew how he was doing. If he stirred, I knew. If he cried, he knew I would be there for him.
He struggled to fall asleep at night. Yet, he found peace in my presence. My closeness made it possible for him to rest. Knowing that parents are to be an example of God’s love, I chose to stay. I spent endless time holding him close as he fell asleep. I knew I could have made it a bit easier on myself by closing the door. I could have let him learn to fall asleep alone, crying it out until he understood that no one was coming.
My home now also has both little ones and teenagers. Sometimes my older kids like to rest in their rooms, and close the door in order to have quiet. I have found it to be necessary to keep a mental monitor clipped to my clothes. This way, if they stir, I will know. If I don't hear them stir, it’s safe to assume they are, and I will be there for them.
Babies call on us in the middle of the night. Teens are no different. These are my children to love no matter their age, no matter what time. I must keep my eyes open, and my ears tuned in. Their times of need don’t happen at convenient times for me, as midnight talks happen. My baby wants to feel my love. My teens are no different.
Although teens look as though they are complete, they aren't. Their needs are deep, their questions many. They stir as they wrestle with the world around them. I have found it to be necessary to talk to them like an adult, but continue to love them like a baby.
If their door is closed, the monitor turned off, we won’t hear. I suppose we could let them cry it out until they understand that no one is coming, but imagine if our Lord did the same to us?
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