I know it has alot to do with the sunshine in Paris, AND Parker.
Parisians love the sun. The minute it turns a little warm, we throw out our scarves, hats & coats, and head for the parks & cafés. My kids & I spend alot more time sitting on the grass, smiling, playing & laughing. It's heavenly.
We've awakened the past several mornings before normal people do, John and I. Not because we wanted to, but because our little boy has discovered a new talent. He climbs. He is the only one of our 5 children who has discovered how to escape his crib. At first we heard him and found him kneeling on the dining room table, banging on John's laptop. Today we awoke at 5:15 to cupboards opening & closing in the kitchen, and dishes banging onto the floor. Within minutes, John was bringing me a soaking wet boy, asking me to hold him because he needed to wash his hands. I was barely blinking, let alone standing, with disheveled hair, thinking to myself, "I probably DON'T want to be holding this wet boy for some reason...the same reason that John needs to wash his hands..." What could that reason be? Let's just say that his papa found him up to his elbows in toilet water, and his head as far in there as he could get it, too. The toilet brush and water were strewn all over the bathroom.
Last night I awoke at 1:30 to him slapping my face & smiling & head butting me. I had forgotten to close his bedroom door...which is our new custom.
A few days ago, I awoke to John locked in the twins room, playing vigorously, and boisterously. It was 6:15.
I folded laundry, knelt at the end of our red carpeted hallway and contemplated the coming events of the day. My heart was heavy. Soon, it was 6:45, almost time to wake up the other sleeping chickens. But to my great surprise, John opened the bedroom door, and walked confidently down the hall towards me, hand-in-hand with Parker.He stopped about 3 feet short of where I was kneeling. Parker continued as John let go of his hand. He took 3 very sure, unassisted steps towards me, and didn't even crash into me as we met. Papa smiled a smug smile as I no doubt reflected a look of utter surprise. "I told you he could walk," he said.
Two days later, he is unmistakably saying, "Hiyeeeeee!" while waving. Repeatedly.
He is also signing "duck", "ball", "cat", "cow", "medicine", as well as making a few inconsistent corresponding sounds.
I've had two 'ah-hah' mother moments the past few weeks. I am feeling strong, stronger (not physically), at least more consistent (emotionally) than I have for a long time, while at the same time, so very tired & beat up. A dear friend of ours from SF told me sacred things that rang to my soul on a lovely Sunday morning last week.
Saturday I met with a local church leader who sort of beat the sun out of me, and asked me a hard question....."Would you rather Parker was healed or exalted?", he said.
In our faith we believe in exaltation, something that occurs to us, if we live righteously, follow God's laws in this life, we can return to live again with Him. That is the ultimate goal of this life, to be tried & tested, have joys & sorrows, and learn to understand as He does, be like Him. And live honestly, uprightly. But we talk of exaltation as a far off goal, not often applicable to our daily tasks.
It struck me odd that he would ask me such a thing. Of course it is not I who determines whether he is healed (immediately) or exalted (eventually) anyway, is it?
But it changed me.
Permanently.
I look at things differently. I mean, really, really differently. It's all very deep and significant.
My vision turned a little bit more, tweaked a few more degrees out of this worldly realm, and into another.
Suddenly I listen to what people are saying & don't hear what they are saying, if it does not bring me closer to Him.
All the while, I wonder if I can hold one child more, love another better, support my husband differently.
It's a mighty change.
Parker is changing physically now, I am changing ever more spiritually, and intellectually.
