 |
| Not from this morning, but you get the idea |
He turned to me and said, "Mama, I already got a bowl, but I can't get my cereal out." We have funny storage in our octogenarian house, so I helped him jump down and did the little twist and wiggle required to get the Cheerios down.
I poured him a bowl and said, "Hey, you're already dressed!" He nodded and told me he had brushed his teeth and gotten ready, and now all he needed was some breakfast. I looked at the clock and saw that we had just entered the last hour before school starts, so I told him if he got socks and shoes on (somehow always a difficult task for my little boys) that he could watch an episode of Jake and the Neverland Pirates and eat his cereal on the couch. This is a huge treat in our house, as we are scrambling most mornings and rushing out the door. Rarely do we have the time to sit and watch 20-30 minutes of TV in the mornings.
He obliged (quickly!!) and settled in to watch his show. One kid down, and still plenty of time to get the others ready. Next I went to wake the 8 year old. He is my special boy and needs longer stretches of time than we usually give him to wrap his mind around getting ready for the day. I climbed up to the top bunk just as he was rolling over, exposing one soft cheek, which I kissed as I whispered, "Good morning!"
His eyes popped open and he smiled at me, saying, "Oh! Good morning!" His words still feel like a gift to me; the memory of those frustrating years of nonverbal communication still fresh in my mind. "Are you ready to get up?" I asked him, and he said no. I gave his cheek another kiss and climbed down, knowing that this is all he needs at first, to wake up and have some time to process. Unbeknownst to me, he snuck upstairs after I left his room and climbed into bed with Daddy, who has the day off and got to sleep in.
Then it was time to check on the third kid, the one who is usually up before anyone else. I found him in bed, holding the treasures he had acquired on his early morning trek through the house: the iPad and a sleeve of crackers. I have found worse things in his bed at 8 in the morning. He smiled at me and I asked him to pause his game and change into school clothes, which he did without argument.
I was doing good, and realized I had time to make some coffee and breakfast for myself. This is usually something I end up doing at 11am or later, once I finally can sit down or return home and my stomach is growling. While I got that ready, the oldest emerged and helped pack his lunch and got dressed, then had a good twenty minutes to play in his room. I could hear him singing a song (an Angry Birds song that he has loved since before he sang along) as I sat at the table and ate my oatmeal. Then the youngest came in with a puzzle he wanted to do, so we pieced it together, finishing right when we needed to get on coats and shoes.
I got the oldest to brush his teeth and put on his coat just as his bus arrived, then got the other two boys finished up and heading down to the car. I have three kids in three different schools this year, but they all have to be there at 9am. It is not so fun somedays. But this morning, I got all three of them off on time, with no tears, no yelling, and basically no arguing. Once the last one was dropped off and I was driving around running errands, I had a moment to reflect on how calm I felt. I had eaten breakfast, played with one kid and had a nice conversation with another. Each of my kids had displayed a sign on independence, which meant less of a burden on me.
If peace in my house is possible on a busy Thursday morning, then maybe peace on earth is possible too.
The tears are still easily accessible to me this holiday season. I had hoped that by talking about it with my friends and pulling back from all the nonsense that distracts me from the miracle of Christmas, that my heavy heart would lift and I would get into "the spirit". Instead of enjoying my usual Mariah Carey pop-heavy Christmas songs, I've been drawn to the more somber and slow ones. What Child is This? or Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, and even Kenny Rogers Celebrate Me Home made me cry this morning in the car.
The only time I have felt my grief met (not relieved, not unburdened, but matched and held), is when I am reading my Bible. I've almost given up on social media; what used to entertain me just makes me upset these days. And all around me I find people who are unhappy and falling apart. But when I open the Bible, when I read through these ancient words, I feel like I'm not alone in this heavy season.
Psalm 46 begins: "God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though the waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging."
It reminds me that it's not about calming the world around me, it's about calming the storm inside me by finding refuge in the One who will not disappoint. And what if we all did that? What if we turned away from the wars we start and the fights we join and remembered that the Lord Almighty is with us? I think it would lead to the end of Psalm 46...
"He makes wars cease to the ends of the earth; he breaks the bow and shatters the spear, he burns the shield with fire. Be still and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth. The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress."
My prayer this Advent season is Come Lord Jesus come. Make wars cease to the ends of the earth. Break the bow and shatter the spear. Calm our hearts and bring peace to the earth, so that your Name will be exalted among the nations. And I remember that it is possible when I can eat breakfast with my kids and enjoy a quiet morning free of tears and fights. "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid." (John 14:27)
And just for fun, here's Pentatonix....
No comments:
Post a Comment