Family

Eye Level

Parent with Child Silhouette from Bing ImagesI never imagined there’d be so many work-related hazards involved in motherhood. It’s for good reason I sit with caution when playing with my son on the floor. He doesn’t realize how strong he is. I’m usually not prepared for his impromptu body-slams and NFL-worthy tackle-hugs, not to mention all the times he’s nailed me smack between the eyes with a whiffle ball or some other unidentified flying plastic object.

Sometimes, I think it would be easier just to keep my distance. Sitting in the corner on a tall kitchen stool would be safer. Locking myself behind a child safety gate might offer some protection. Or maybe I should just invest in some football gear. A good helmet and some thick padding might lessen the potential for severe injury.

As much as I might want to shelter myself from my son’s innocent though dangerous playtime antics, I’m learning how important it is to play on his level. Sitting eye to eye with him is one small way of expressing my love. It requires humbling myself—even at the risk of getting hurt. Most often, when I engage him in this way, I’m rewarded with at least one of those tackle-hugs and a few ugga-muggas.

As I sit on the floor, eye-level with my son, I think of how God humbled himself for us. He didn’t spin the world in to motion only to leave us as orphans. He came and lived among us, dwelling among the outcasts of society—loving those the world had rejected and touching those others refused to touch. He understands our sufferings because he suffered as we do, and more—humbling himself to the point of death. And all so he could be eye-level with us…all so he could show us what true love is.

“And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death– even death on a cross!” (Philippians 2:8)

True Love…is HUMBLE (Day 42, #50ShadesOfTrueLove)

Beautiful Noise

Caution Signs from Bing Images There are few sounds I love more than the sound…of silence. While some might get restless in a quiet house, I get inspired. It means there will be time to think and write, and maybe even rest. Solitude is one of my closest friends.

As much as I love quiet, I don’t get a lot of it. It’s tough to come by in a house with two high-energy kids, a persistent cat, and a dog who barks at everything that passes by our front door (even if it’s a leaf). Last year for my birthday, I asked for a half-day locked in the bedroom—alone with my computer and a mind full of uninterrupted ideas. But even the closed door and droning fan couldn’t drown out the noise beyond.

It wasn’t long before my solitude was invaded by something not-so-peaceful. The kids played on and squealed in ear-piercing decibels, blissfully unaware there was a momster of a storm brewing on the other side of the door. Before the storm could erupt to full-blown chaos, something stopped me. A still, small voice whispering. “Be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger.”

I reluctantly unplugged the fan that had drowned out a fraction of the noise, and listened. What I heard calmed the storm within. It was the sound of life and joy and fun and innocence. All too soon, those little noise-makers will be grown and my house will be quiet once again.

Be slow to anger. Listen. That gentle reminder helped me to hear the beautiful noise surrounding me. In the midst of that noise, there is peace. And I wouldn’t have found it had I been quick to anger.

True Love…is SLOW to ANGER (Day 32, #50ShadesOfTrueLove)

I See Royalty

Crown of Flowers from Bing Images My most rewarding day as a mommy was when my daughter finally accepted that she’s a princess. Prior to that day, she’d been doubtful. “Mommy, I’m not a princess,” she’d say. “I’m just a girl.” I don’t know how the change finally came about, but to my great satisfaction she woke up one day and declared, “Mommy, I AM a princess.”

A princess she is, not much different from those who talk to animals and sing with birds in the fairytales. One day, we were walking down a city street when she pointed and gasped, “Oh, Mommy. Look…a eagle.” I gently explained that it was actually a pigeon—the bird version of a rat. Her reply? “No, Mommy. It’s a eeeeaaagle.” Where I saw a mere pigeon, she saw the royalty of birds.

Her childlike vision humbles me. She’s able to see beauty where few can find it. We walk in a field of dandelions, and she sees roses. “Mommy, look…a foolllwer.” It’s not long before she has a dozen or so wilted weeds in her hand. But to her, it’s a royal bouquet.

I want to see the world the way my daughter sees it. It wasn’t hard for me to see my precious little girl as a princess. But there are times when it’s hard to look beyond this world of darkness and find beauty.

That’s why I believe our worldview is the most influential aspect of our lives. If we’re convinced we were derived from a speck of dust, it’s no surprise when we start treating others as such. But if we see the vast beauty, order, and intricacy of this amazing world—and believe that behind it all is the hand of a loving creator who deems his children royalty, our vision of the world, ourselves, and others…changes.

When our vision changes, so do our actions. How would we act in the presence of a king or a queen? When we begin to see the average person as royalty, we’ll treat them the same.

My prayer is that my vision will change, and hence—my actions. I want to see the world through childlike eyes. When it comes to circumstances, I want to walk through a field of weeds and see the roses. When it comes to people, I want to look in the eyes of the most humble…and see royalty.

True Love…is VISIONARY (Day 22, #50ShadesOfTrueLove)

My Two-year Old Professional Distractor

TimeClock from Bing Images I was finally free. After my many attempts at updating my blog throughout the day had been thwarted by my two-year old professional distractor, it was time, at last. I could breathe deep, soak in the silence, sit at the computer, and write without interruption.

One keystroke into my blog post, I heard the door creak open in forewarning that the third escape attempt was now underway. Soon enough, the little escapee was tugging at my pant leg, staring me into compliance with his heart-melting teddy bear eyes. “Mommy, I need you!” How could I resist?

Since he was a baby, I’ve cuddled him to sleep every night. Usually, I wait for him to be completely knocked out before I tiptoe away. And sometimes, I abide at least three Mommy I Need You rounds before he’s officially “out.”

That night, I wasn’t so patient. I plopped him in the high chair, turned on some sure-to-put-him-to-sleep music, handed him a sippy cup, and returned to the blogosphere. Convinced he was finally asleep after several minutes of quiet, I turned to find him peering around the back of his highchair, just staring at me with those eyes as if to say, “What on that screen could possibly be more interesting and important than me?”

There are days I get so involved in the tasks before me that I forget the most important thing is to be involved in the lives of those I love. My computer screen may be calling me. A million important tasks might be screaming my name. But love is calling me to be involved in what’s most important. At the end of my life, do I want it to be said that I was very involved in the task at hand? No. I want to be known for being committed to the work of love.

It won’t be long enough that my kids are saying, “Mommy, I need you.” And even beyond those years of them saying they need me, I want to show them I love them by being involved in their lives—meeting their deepest needs for quality time, even if it means sacrificing my own plans.

“My whole life I complained that my work was being interrupted until I realized that the interruptions were my work.” (Henri Nouwen)

True Love…is INVOLVED (Day 13, #50ShadesOfTrueLove)

I Finally Get the Concept

Blog_HideAndSeekMy six-year old daughter doesn’t get the concept of hide-and-seek. As I count down from ten, she giggles her way to her hiding place, proudly announcing her location once “hidden.” Roaming through the house, I pretend it’s impossible to find her while all the while she shrieks in delight, “I’m right here, Mommy! Right HERE!”

She doesn’t get the concept of most games we play. If it’s cards, she shows me the hand she’s supposed to keep hidden while peeking at mine. In board games, she moves her marker whatever amount of squares she sees fit, rather than following the number rolled on the dice. With tag, I’m always “it” no matter how many times I tag her.

We play on and I bask in the glow of her wonder-filled gaze, wondering if, in the end, it’s me who doesn’t get the concept. She doesn’t care about the rules or expectations of the game, she’s just happy to have some quality time…with me. She runs innocent through the joys of life, happiest when we’re enjoying it together. Me, I get bent out of shape when things don’t go as planned. Maybe I need to learn from her.

There will come a day when she learns to play hide-and-seek without drawing attention to her whereabouts. I’ll have to teach her not to cheat at cards and board games. And one day she’ll discover that she has to be “it” when someone tags her. But through it all, I don’t want to lose sight of the ultimate purpose behind these times—to be with her, enjoying her company, treasuring her presence.

Lord, help me to value time with my children. Sometimes I focus so much on how things are supposed to be that I forget the purpose behind it all. Remind me how few in number these days will be. Soon enough my children will be grown. Let me enjoy these fleeting yet precious moments while I can.