Yesterday, I hustled the kids outside for a walk before dinner time, all the while checking my watch and calculating how long it would take to heat leftovers, for how long we could therefore walk, and whether I could somehow successfully avoid parks, the cemetary, and hills. (I knew we didn’t have time to play at a park or the cemetery. I knew I lacked the fortitude for hills. Tell me you know what I mean! I’m not the only one, right? Right?)
Anywho, Surprisingly, one child was really having a hard time with this particular walk. There was lots of whining, and this is highly unusual, so we headed early for home, and I got busy raking pine needles. They have blanketed our entire yard in this lovely buttery-apricot color. Despite the unpleasant whining, I wasn’t going to waste the time we took getting ready to go out for one measly little turn about two hill-less blocks! Little man got out of the stroller and began exploring. My daughter stayed in.
Eventually, she got interested enough to climb out and grab a stick, so as to imitate Mommy raking. The two of them made up some games involving sticks. No-ones’ eye was poked out. And eventually, we had to go back inside to start microwaving things for Weft-over Wednesday, as I like to dub our mid-week dinner. 😉
I’m getting to the point: when Daddy got home, somehow, instead of everyone else ending up banished from the madhouse of my kitchen so that I can scurry around, Daddy and little man ended up squarely in the middle, Joshy in his arms. Our two year old is normally less cuddly at this time of day. It’s all about running around, and trains. But yesterday, around the time I was turning from the sink towards the microwave for round 3 of dinner prep, I catch Joshy spontaneously saying to daddy, “I had a weally good time outside today.”
And it just really caught my attention and my heart. It came unbidden out of the sweet mouth of a goofy kid who we like to call “Mr. Pleasant”. He wanted to share with his daddy that he ‘had a weally good time outside today’. That’s all he said, and it might sound trivial or ordinary, but it looked and sounded just like prayer to me. A son, secure in his father’s arms, shared with his father something that mattered to him. His Daddy was there to and listen and to get an idea of the what makes up the being of this kid. And sharing that all with his Daddy is just exactly what mattered to this boy at the time. It was a moment when the two seemed as one.
Now, does this mean I had a similarly revealing talk with my heavenly father this morning in prayer? Not remotely! I somehow managed to distract myself, even with the loveliest of examples before me. Still, I want to record it for posterity. Eventually, that freedom and giving has gotta have some seapage effect on this busy mama. Right? Right!? Well, anyways, until I can learn to pray well through osmosis, I am thinking seriously about doing meditations on the life of Jesus, in order to get to know him better and get to a place where we can talk as close friends. The German side of me is really struggling with the logistics, considering that I will need to find a solid hour (after making coffee) during which the house is quiet and the soul is willing.
Are there any other moms out there who pray for an hour plus? How do you do it? Is it even possible? I need any and all ideas. Thank you!