Friday, January 18, 2019

The eyes of a child

My sweet Laughter boy is half way to adulthood this year.  When Man of the woods turned nine I intentionally slowed myself so I could be in his moments.  Someday they will be grown and gone and I will miss this busy boy filled life.  I want to climb trees with them, or go on moonlit walks, or just remember the things they say.  I want to sit close and remember the boy smell because it feels like just yesterday I was holding each of them for the very first time.  This is my goal is to slow and see, watch my kids grow, be in their moment.  I want to step into my kids lives by saying yes to boy adventures.  I don't want them to think that they always have to step into my adult life to spend time with me.


The year Man of the woods was nine, we played hard.  We adventured half way across the world, to that place where the grandpas got lost in Japan while we waited in a sea of people we couldn't communicate with, and we loved every minute of it.  During that year we would walk to the end of the driveway and imagine grand adventures, or when we were in the car they would tell me how to get to where we were going-only they didn't always know where we needed to end up, and to be honest sometimes neither did I.  We visited rivers, rock hopped, ate ice cream for lunch on hot days, and explored the forests near our house.  It was a good year of rest, slowing, and soaking in my boys.  I want that and more this year.  I want to learn to be like them.  I want to learn to trust, rest, and find joy they way they do.  I want slowing and seeing to become a way of life for me.

Sledding in the rain.

In just a few short weeks here's what I've already learned from my Laughter.
1. Words are fun.  For him when it's snack time he volunteer's to "notify his brother".  He doesn't think he needs to know how to make music to write a song, he can just write a song, putting his heart into words.  Or as he is required to do a state project involving birds, instead of just writing the plain facts he dresses them up with his words. I love how he plays with words and I want to be like that.





2. The other day as we spent time in a waiting room the boys asked if they could use their own money to buy a snack from the vending machine.  He put a five dollar bill in for a one dollar treat.  The machine gave him four one dollar coins back.  He has treasured them ever since.  Holding them close, keeping them in his pockets, stacking and re-stacking, examining them over and over, showing any who will look. Simple little unexpected treasures that have brought him joy.  I want to see the world like this, holding tight to the good and letting go of the difficult.


3.  As we stood in line at the grocery store an older lady was in front of us was unloading her groceries without a word to me he just stepped forward and said, "I'll help you with that." He carefully unloaded her cart.  She gave him a dollar for helping her.  After he thanked her he pulled me close and whispered that he was just trying to do to her what he would have wanted somebody else to do for him.

In the grocery store he asked if we could make candy apples.  Since I want to slow and see I agreed.  He told the lady all about our candy apple making plans as he unloaded his groceries.

4. He knows I like order and life has been busy so without being asked he turned on his music and sorted the laundry for me.  I didn't ask he simple saw an opportunity to love me and took it.  I have been smiling every time I walk into the laundry room since that day.  He's gift has humbled me and encouraged me to be like him, to find ways to love by doing.

Just for fun the boys and I made a cake.

5.  He smiles at every single person he makes eye contact with.  He looks for the same cashier when we go into stores and will start up conversations with anybody.  He is free to share his joy, even with strangers.  I want to be that person, that can lighten a randoms person day with a few kind words.

He really wanted a hot stone massage.  For Christmas he got his wish.

Here's to the year Laughter was nine and I learned to slow and see.

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