Tuesday, March 13, 2018

Ancient Hebrew Soldiers, on Parenting

I don't often look up from these short minutes.

Wake time runs into
Breakfast time runs into
Bus time runs into
Cleaning time runs into
Playtime runs into
Snack time runs into
Reading time runs into
Playtime runs into
Lunchtime runs into
Naptime runs into
Bus time runs into
Snack time runs into
Playtime runs into
Homework time runs into
Chores time runs into
Suppertime runs into
Bath time runs into
Cozing time runs into
Bedtime runs into
Cleaning time runs into
TV time runs into
Packing lunchbox time runs into
Bedtime runs into
Wake time.

And the liminal space is filled with diapers and dirty socks and Band-Aids and making sure to connect with each little soul on the deep and happy and true place where they live and washing hands with soap please.
And diapers.

The days are mashed together like a package of stuck liquorice and I just pry off
one
piece
after
another
after
another.

So when I read today in the book of Joshua about tribes building an altar to remind their children's children about the covenant between them, it made me look twice.
In the middle of their journey home from war, they thought about their children's children.
And they stopped.
And they built a monument to remind the future generation of their story.

It might seem like this to them, they thought, we must make sure they know it was like that.

Their bigger story was important to them.
Their multi generational story mattered.

And tonight when Kachi threw up and threw off suppertime at the end of a challenging day, my stuck-liquorice heart threatened to wring its hands at the delay.  But the long view whispered of bigger things and I'm not on a sprint here. I don't get medals for serving supper at precisely 6.

They built their monument in the middle of their journey. On their way. They stopped.

There are children's children to think of.

And I want those kids to be raised by gentle hands and tender hearts. By happy parents who know and are known. By parents who make room and practice patience and go slow.

By parents who weren't rushed and sighed at when they were sick.

(Hideously obvious now that I'm writing it! But when I've got the short view, I'm just thinking of the next thing, instead of the important thing.)

And I found that the long view is a good view in the middle of these short minutes.

PS bedtime was late, but awesome. Complete with slow cuddles and belly laughs and Kachi thanking God for mama.

No comments:

Post a Comment