A Walk to Remember

After dinner is a lovely time to take a family stroll around the neighborhood. Last week, on one such stroll, I told Jude that we were going to see something special. Several times while driving, I had noticed down a side street of my neighborhood, out of the corner of my eye, a house decked out with Halloween decorations- spider webs, giant inflatable pumpkins and the like.
And so we headed in that direction; Jude was excited to see my surprise, and I felt like I was really going to deliver something special. We rounded the corner and could see the house, covered in Halloween decorations and Jude oohed and aahed. And then we got closer. The first thing I noticed was a graveyard, with lots of tombstones and spiderwebs. And then we saw an eery grave digger looming over the graves. That was alright because I could just tell Jude it was a scarecrow. As we walked on, the images got more disturbing. The next thing that registered was an life-sized evil clown, sitting in a chair under the children's playground. "Hmm..." I said, as I looked for something to distract my children's innocent eyes. There were cauldrons and nooses and Jack-o-Lanterns. And then we saw the electric chair, with a headless corpse sitting in it. We didn't really know how to address that one, so I said, "Oh Jude, look at the giant spider!" and we walked away as quickly as possible. I think parenthood is the art of distraction and redirection. No nightmares that I know of, for Jude at least. I'm still trying to block out the evil clown image.

His Hands

Something occurred to me tonight as I singing "Jesus Loves the Little Children" to Layla. I was gently rubbing her back and singing this song and I realized, looking down at my unimpressive hand, that that was Jesus' hand. That the Lord uses our hands as His own in the lives of those we touch, literally and figuratively. And more specifically, the Lord uses a parent's hand to love the little children. Those of us who have children know that the relationship, and the feelings associated, really cannot be explained, or even adequately expressed. It just feels bigger than me. I am just a human, with plenty of faults (trust me), but I would do anything for this child I'm holding. And I am happy to deny my own desires or comforts to accommodate her safety, her security, her well-being. It seems to me that God put this overwhelming love in parents so that we could get a small glimpse of how He feels about each of us.
And as I pondered this, I couldn't help but feel that loving our children, as unselfishly and purely as we can, makes the Father so happy. That He cannot wait for the day that He can be the one to gently rub our backs, or pick us up, or kiss our cheeks. In a perfect world, no child would feel unloved, or be without that gentleness. My hand rubbing Layla's back is part of His perfect plan to express love to His children. And one day, He will do the same.

The Sting

My husband and I were watching a movie (The Sting, great movie), assuming both children were snug in their beds when we heard a knock on Jude's door. Ben went in to answer the call and their conversation went a little something like this:
Ben, getting down on his level: "What's up buddy?"
"I did a poop." (he's still not potty trained at night and likes to wait until he's got his diaper on for number 2; it's delightful)
"Okay, I'll go get some wipes."
"Daaad... what were you eating?"
"Well, uh, I had a string cheese... and some cake..."
"Did you have some chips?" (these are Jude's favorite)
"yes." (boy, it sounds like we're real pigs)
At this point, Ben goes to get some wipes and Jude wanders into the living room where I am, and a particularly aggressive scene is on.
"Hi Mommy." (squinty eyes)
"Hey Buddy." (quickly pause the movie)
"What are you watching?"
"It's called the Sting."
"Can I watch it too?"
"No, buddy, it's a grown-up movie."
And now he starts to notice his surroundings. I watch as he takes in the sights before him, the empty bag of chips on the table, the mostly eaten cake on the plate, and he says, "Oh."
I can just imagine what's going through his mind right now. Man, these guys really live it up when I go to bed. Can we say "double standard?"
I felt like I was caught. So, I proceeded to try to distract him from the discrepancy. Luckily, he's three and it worked.