It was long night. I forgot about how October wind through open windows can sound like a baby crying and can move doors open and shut. Cole woke up at 2:00 a.m., frightened, and hopped in and out of bed until morning. I tried not to let this annoy me (I admit I was quite agitated with him on the third walk back to his room), but it also gave me time to think. And to remember the gift of earlier Wednesday morning. It was raining heavily in the morning, but when we walked to the bus stop, the sun shone through clouds at us as we stood under our umbrellas. After the bus pulled away with Chase and Cole waving at us from the windows, Caroline and I hustled to church as usual so I could teach my Wednesday class. We parked behind the church and walked along the wide sidewalk towards the side door that leads to the childcare level. Strewn along the sidewalk were fall leaves, their veiny sides up, with the most beautiful silvery orbs resting on them, sparkle-shining in the sun that peeked in and out of the clouds. Caroline knelt down and poked at them, moving them around the spiny veins of the leaves, then slowly lifted one to watch the polished orbs roll like liquid mercury down the leaf and onto the ground with a little !pop! It was amazing to watch on so many levels. The droplets on the leaves - dozens of leaves making a brown and yellow and red path to the door, with their luminous ornaments - were so beautiful, I thought only God can do this. And Caroline, with her sheer wonder and delight, as she moved from leaf to leaf, poking, lifting, concentrating, looking up at me with that smile and those blue eyes so huge. It was overwhelming. I was late for class, and I didn't care. I let her work her way slowly through all of it, and we finally walked into the church. As we walked past the first little nursery room, three women came to the door - we know and love them all - and said, "We have all been standing at the windows watching her. She is so precious." All of it is PRECIOUS. Literally. And that set the tone for my whole day. Somehow, I was able to rise above . . . picking my way through potty-training setbacks, too much homework, the chaos of after dinner, of bedtime for three little people without Daddy's help; it was loud, energetic and full of karate moves and brotherly disagreements, but oddly peaceful at the same time. And we were all there and present and mindful. If only I can keep those gifts in my vision every moment.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Gifts
It was long night. I forgot about how October wind through open windows can sound like a baby crying and can move doors open and shut. Cole woke up at 2:00 a.m., frightened, and hopped in and out of bed until morning. I tried not to let this annoy me (I admit I was quite agitated with him on the third walk back to his room), but it also gave me time to think. And to remember the gift of earlier Wednesday morning. It was raining heavily in the morning, but when we walked to the bus stop, the sun shone through clouds at us as we stood under our umbrellas. After the bus pulled away with Chase and Cole waving at us from the windows, Caroline and I hustled to church as usual so I could teach my Wednesday class. We parked behind the church and walked along the wide sidewalk towards the side door that leads to the childcare level. Strewn along the sidewalk were fall leaves, their veiny sides up, with the most beautiful silvery orbs resting on them, sparkle-shining in the sun that peeked in and out of the clouds. Caroline knelt down and poked at them, moving them around the spiny veins of the leaves, then slowly lifted one to watch the polished orbs roll like liquid mercury down the leaf and onto the ground with a little !pop! It was amazing to watch on so many levels. The droplets on the leaves - dozens of leaves making a brown and yellow and red path to the door, with their luminous ornaments - were so beautiful, I thought only God can do this. And Caroline, with her sheer wonder and delight, as she moved from leaf to leaf, poking, lifting, concentrating, looking up at me with that smile and those blue eyes so huge. It was overwhelming. I was late for class, and I didn't care. I let her work her way slowly through all of it, and we finally walked into the church. As we walked past the first little nursery room, three women came to the door - we know and love them all - and said, "We have all been standing at the windows watching her. She is so precious." All of it is PRECIOUS. Literally. And that set the tone for my whole day. Somehow, I was able to rise above . . . picking my way through potty-training setbacks, too much homework, the chaos of after dinner, of bedtime for three little people without Daddy's help; it was loud, energetic and full of karate moves and brotherly disagreements, but oddly peaceful at the same time. And we were all there and present and mindful. If only I can keep those gifts in my vision every moment.
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