Lilah said to me as we walked up the sidewalk to the kindergarten yesterday morning, "I almost had a hiccup!" "And then what happened?" I asked her. "It flied out of my mouth."
This morning I sat in my room with Bible and journal and kept an ear out for the girls who were playing in their room. Footsteps racing down the hall, then back again. "I'm tired! I need to rest on this leaf here." "Yeah, I'm going to curl up in this flower." "I'm ready to go again!" "No, I'm too tired; I don't want to go back to that country." "Yes, let's go!" "I know -- let's go to Italy!!!!" "YEAH!!!" (More flying footsteps.)
Cole was ecstatic over our trip on the S-Bahn this morning. I got him out of the stroller and sat him on the seat beside me, where he pointed out the window with a frenzy of enthusiasm at every train, made calls on the toy phone he'd brought along, and held my hand in case of sudden lurches.
I woke Lilah up from a nap yesterday because it was getting late, but apparently she was still tired; she sat on my lap in the kitchen for perhaps 45 minutes, not speaking a single word, only moving to settle herself into a deeper snuggle. Melanie was happy to start making dinner, but then Joshua got a little fussy and as I watched her slapping the chicken into the pan one-handed while holding a large and squirmy one-year-old under the other arm, I decided maybe I should get up and help her. Lilah sat on the bench staring into space for a while, then suddenly she was standing beside me, her face a grimace and giant tears on her cheeks. "What is it, Lilah? Would you like to say something?" I asked in a cheerful voice. Struggling to pull her face into a normal expression, she said over a sob, "I -- want to sit on your lap!" So, when I finished putting the rice on, we had a little more snuggling time :-).
At the end of dinner tonight, Melanie had left the table to put Joshua to bed and the kids were all finishing their chocolate yogurt. Mendelssohn was playing in the background, and suddenly the craziness of feeding and entertaining and mediating between and pacifying and answering four children faded away and I was able to sit back and linger for a moment with three of my friends. Lilah pulled out one of several favorite repeat conversations. "Do you live with us, Julie? Do you live at Berlin? I wish we could go to your house, Julie." Cole gave coy looks and meticulously fed himself his yogurt. Claire made up a story about the reflection of the kitchen door we could see in the dark window. It is a magic door. When you go through it, you are in the garden, but you don't just fall to the ground; you can fly! We were together and happy and for one moment, no one needed anything and we could just be.
We read about Job last night in our Bible story book; there was a sentence that read something like, "I hope you keep loving God even when He doesn't give you presents." Claire said, "Is God going to give us presents??" I named a few that He has already given her. Then she was curious about why God would let Satan take so much away from Job. "I think He wanted to see if Job loved God or just the things God had given to Job."
And for Melanie and I, a nightly highlight is the child-free fellowship we enjoy after all the wee ones are tucked in and still. The fellowship with the children is also hilarious and rewarding and thought-provoking, but in the "after eight" hours the conversation shifts to deeper things, and there are more connections made and ideas followed through to their conclusion. Perhaps we break into a bar of chocolate or dish up some ice cream or brew a pot of tea, and then we share and pray and laugh, and go to bed satisfied and grateful.
And now I need to go to sleep, for soon the fairies will be flying to Italy, and it will be time for the next meal, and I might not find that magic transforming door that will change me from a sleepy grump into a flying wonder-woman!
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