| Sunny Side Up Feb 26, 2003 �2003, Kathleen Gibson Three little reminders of love We hadn�t had company with small children for a coon�s age. Until the Manswells pulled into the drive last month, that is. Two harried grown-ups oozed out of the van, followed by three children under six�who bounded, cavorted, charged, leapt, wiggled, �and here my thesaurus ran out of words meaning �energetic movement�. I instantly assessed the need for energetic movement of my own. While the parents visited with the Preacher, and the children argued over how to retrieve the cat from under the couch, (and what kind of knot would look best on his tail when they did), I fled. Guest room: Stash candy and nuts in drawers. Toss tiny-pieced games onto highest shelves. Workroom: Unplug saw. Collect hammers and loose screws. Washroom: Remove tempting toiletry items. Put out extra washcloths. Everywhere: Hide poisons. Matches. Breakables. Three minutes later, breaking a sweat, I re-entered the living room. The older children had discovered our small brass instruments and struck up a band. The baby meandered, calling, �Here titty, here wuggy!� Feline and canine had vanished. I glanced at my husband. A new wrinkle wended its way between the three already furrowing his brow. Even the fish cowered in their bowl. I fully expected the next twenty-four hours to take a month to pass. But when I waved our guests off the next afternoon and sank into my green prayer chair in our nearly kid-proofed home, I felt a peculiar vacancy in the upper left side of my chest. Hoping to get a few hours of work done before my guests had roused that morning, I�d woken early. I should have remembered the drill. First footsteps in the morning mean �everyone under four feet tall�out of bed!� That�s how I ended up in my living room long before breakfast, a solitary adult surrounded by three children under six. Experiencing sudden empathy for hostages. Scared spitless. Then I thought of other mornings�years ago�when two different children regularly crept from their beds and, hauling tattered blankets and stuffed toys with the fur loved off, came searching for me. I was usually ready, having heard the waking thump of their small feet on the floor beside their beds. If I close my eyes, I see still their tousled hair, the sleep-dents on their flushed cheeks, their chubby fists rubbing dreams from their eyes. All I had to do then was�.hold out my arms�like this� The middle child was inside their circle before I could say �come�. While her parents slept and her brothers played a brass duet, we cuddled in that green chair and woke up together. I�ve forgotten too many things about parenting small children. But I�ve not forgotten the feeling of an armful of sleepy child�.the knowing that I�d give my life for that child, regardless of how many knots decorated the cat�s tail. When we make time for stillness, and haul our love-hungry selves into the circle of God�s arms, he feels the same about us. Respond to these thoughts at [email protected] |