Delight

The last evening Melanie was here, we spent the evening chatting together on the couch, drinking tea, eating Spekulatius (spiced buttery cookies), and talking about child training and walking with Jesus and other light topics.

One thing we talked about -- really, a kind of sermon I gave to Melanie from things I have heard my mom say -- was enjoying your children. Instead of seeing them as a duty, or something to fit in between the truly important things on your schedule, or someone to endure until you can spend time with someone who is actually interesting, see their care as not only a worthwhile job but a great delight. See them as friends to enjoy, not charges with needs to meet and character flaws to train out and questions to answer.

As I woke the next morning, I realized the sermon was for me, too. I also fall into the habit of seeing these children as little heaps of need and duty and unpolished diamond instead of little people. On Friday, I had all three children to myself for the morning. Lilah had been asking for another carriage ride (one day when she and Cole were home, I took them to the grocery store in the stroller. She was wearing her Tinkerbell dress and didn't think that fairies rode in strollers, so I told her it was a carriage. She was delighted the whole time and has been talking about it since), so I loaded her and Cole into the "carriage" and Claire hopped eagerly onto her bike. We rolled down the sidewalk, cold grey fall sky overhead, to the natural foods store by the train station. I picked up a few things I needed plus fresh bread for lunch and cookies for dessert; Claire pushed a child-sized cart around the store and was thrilled that I was actually putting groceries into her cart.

On the way home the carriage riders enjoyed the scenery and Claire whizzed ahead on her bike, careful to wait for me at each street crossing. We stopped at the playground for a few minutes, but it was kind of cold and soon we were all ready to go inside. I said, "Let's have tea when we get inside!" The girls thought this was a grand idea and swarmed onto the bench in the kitchen to watch the tea-making process. They didn't want to leave their steaming mugs, so I brought a book to the kitchen table and we read together while we waited for our tea to cool and then as we sipped (or gulped) it. It was still a little early, but everyone seemed to be hungry, so lunch was next. I sliced the fresh bakery bread and took orders: meat and cheese or peanut butter and jam? Claire asked me, after a quiet moment of happy munching at the lunch table, what I was thinking. "I'm thinking how glad I am to be sitting here eating lunch with the three of you!"

"Really? Were you really thinking that?" After sandwiches and fruit, we enjoyed our cookies and Cole went down for a nap. As I was coming from his bed, I heard Lilah screaming and surmised that the girls weren't playing so well together. (Claire bosses and teases; Lilah screams at every hint of provocation; both are selfish and cling to their own way. How to clear these altercations from the bottom up?) I sent them to separate rooms to play alone while I finished cleaning up the kitchen and prayed for their hearts, then went to speak with each of them. They were both responsive to my words, and I was so glad they played happily together for an hour before their quiet times. They ended up coloring in the kitchen; I quizzed myself on German flashcards while they colored, and Claire repeated the German words after me (probably improving my pronunciation).

Then it was nap time for Lilah and quiet time for Claire; they went to their rooms cheerfully and settled down with giraffe and Legos, respectively. I enjoy quiet time, too, as a time to read or e-mail or nap. But when it was time to let Claire out of her room, I wasn't sorry to see her again, either. She brought a puzzle into my room and soon I joined her on the floor to work with her; the other children trickled in from their naps and Cole sat on my other side playing with some blocks while Lilah danced in and out in her dress-up clothes.


I interrupted writing this post today to let Lilah and Cole swarm over me in my chair. Cole just wanted to sit with me and have my attention; Lilah wanted help dressing a little doll and then she wanted to fix my hair. They trust me, they want to spend time with me, they greet me with exuberance when I get back from a run or when we get up in the morning. They are my friends.