The Joy of Children

‘For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord.’ Because he is a good, good God, his plans are great.

Looking back through old photos last night. Reliving the years of joy from raising four beautiful kids. The fun of pirate parties. The thrill of West Coast sails… The summers at Tarbert. The Christmas mornings and the new babies, puppies, kittens.

It went by so fast. In a blur. We took one step at a time, living day by day, and all the time, God knew the plans he had for these four wonderful babies he’d entrusted to us. Praise him that he was always there, during good times and challenging ones, and that despite us, and because of him, these kids grew up to be world-changers.

Such a privilege to raise children.

And now we have the fun of interacting with their children. Feeling like we have more time to be intentional in how we interact, and perhaps more of a positive influence. And yet, knowing that our clumsy efforts and words can often get in the way of something better.

Still grateful that God knows the plans he has for these little ones. That they are destined to be world-changers. Such a privilege to be their grandparents. Such a joy.

Reel to Real

I am of the era when a movie meant a reel-to-reel projection onto a screen. Intermissions at the cinema enabled the projectionist to change to the next reel. As our family grew, we used to take quite a bit of ‘cine’ film, and nothing delighted the children more than to have a movie night where we would sit and watch their antics, the way they were in times gone by. 

The images travelled visibly between the projector and the screen, spooky holographs of people and events. A side view revealed a sort of tunnel of light in which these images were captured until they were displayed on a flat surface.

As Don threaded the film into the projector, the kids loved nothing better than to cavort in front of the light so that their shadows were dancing on the empty screen. When the movie started, the images wrapped over their bodies, which continued to cast dancing shadows on the screen and interrupted the viewing of the film. Everyone else would call out, ‘Sit down!’ and finally we would settle to watch a short film depicting the way we were. 

The kids in the present moment could not see themselves as they were in the present, except as outline shadows on an empty screen, or interrupting a film of the past. 

It’s so much easier to see ourselves, the way we were, than to see ourselves as we are now. Whatever our antics, past or present, when God looks at us he sees his daughters and sons.

When Jesus was asked who he was, he replied with the extremely loaded phrase, ‘I am’, signifying his understanding that he and the Father are one, and have been one from the beginning and until the end. 

It would be very healing and encouraging if we could see ourselves as he sees us, and that when we are asked who we are, our first thought would be ‘a daughter/son of the King’. Reel to Real.

A Walk in the Park

Flick and I took a walk to the park today. It took us nearly two hours from start to finish. If I’d put her in the pushchair, we’d have been at the swings in ten minutes, had some fun there and returned home in another ten minutes. We left the pushchair in the closet, though, and walked.

We never made it to the swings today. Oh, there were too many other wonders! Children on scooters to stop and watch. Children throwing sticks into puddles to be mimicked, with great glee. Baby doll in the stroller to be pushed forward with a joyful cry of ‘GO!’ followed by hilarity as she chased after the stroller. (Don’t want to encourage that when the real baby arrives!)

There was a loquacious old man to linger with. Brick edgings to be balanced on and iron railings to be used as baby gymnastic apparatus. Colourful flowers to be smelled. Long grass with which to tickle others. There were old ladies with dogs on leads to be marvelled at, from the safety of Gramma’s arms. There were planes and helicopters in the sky, pigeons and seagulls and crows in the trees, ducks in the water. 

The weather wasn’t summery but that drew no complaints from Flick. She only had eyes for the amazing surroundings.

The world through the eyes of a child is a marvellous place, full of beauty and fun. What a blessing to have the opportunity to refocus my eyes yet again, and give all the glory to our gracious Lord. I am full of gratitude for the opportunities to spend time with this beautiful wee soul.

Refuge

We sat round the kitchen table, four hurting young women, the manager of the refuge and my friend and me. I found myself tongue-tied, unable to initiate conversation in case I strayed into forbidden territory. 

They, too, were quiet. Two of them spoke English as a second language. All of them have children. All are trying to navigate the situation in which they find themselves with grace. We sought out needs we might be able to fill. Rugby for kids? Any holiday clubs during these long summer months? Swimming pools? Bikes? Befrienders to give tours of the town to newcomers? Childcare for any who find work?

We are all here to walk one other home. Some paths drop suddenly into gorges and require helpers to abseil down and bring the victims up, one at a time. I’m not so good at heights and have never abseiled, but here I go.

I don’t know where this connection might lead, but having read Jesus’ gentle words to the woman caught in adultery, and the woman at the well, I know that he was sitting round that table this morning with us. God bless them all.

Pure Joy

This morning I had my first outing to a Play Barn, a good place to go to blow away any clouds which might be on one’s horizon. Controlled mayhem prevailed inside the soft play cage for the under-3’s – a ball pit, various squishy furniture and a cushioned staircase leading to a manageable slide. First time I’ve been on a slide for some time, but I have a feeling it may not be the last...

A toddler helps focus one’s attention on the moment at hand. There is no time for forward-planning or backward-regretting; there is just the moment.

Jesus drew a little child to himself and said that his Kingdom is full of people with a child’s attributes – trust, joy, love.

So I guess that this morning I spent a wee while in the Kingdom, with some of my favourite people.  It was exhilarating.

Apples Galore

The season of dealing with fruit and veg from the garden is drawing to a close. We are digging carrots as we need them, hoping there won’t be any early frosts, pulling in the last of the runner beans and ... of course ... dealing with apples galore.

Not that I’m complaining. But yesterday I made yet another apple crumble for the freezer, and four jars of apple butter – which actually took more time than I’d remembered. I’m about to hit the kitchen again for another session, this time of an apple tray bake for a talk on Caring for Creation tonight – kind of a suitable accompaniment. 

Our lives, too, go in seasons. Seasons of good and plenty; seasons of hardship and little. It’s hard to imagine oneself in one season when the other is overwhelming us. 

The Bible talks about the seasons of life, in Ecclesiastes where Solomon declares that there is a season for every activity under the sun. “... a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.”

Whew. Pretty exhaustive list, and not all of it something I want to embrace, that’s for sure. But maybe it’s a description of the way life is, rather than a recipe for what it should be. Because God is a good God who loves to shower his children with good gifts, and it breaks his heart when our hearts are broken.

May this be a day of healing, dancing and loving, for you, for me, and for all those who suffer in some of the unspeakable calamities of our time.