Sometimes I think the whole purpose of teaching my kids is so that they can remind me later what I taught them. Because the fruit doesn't fall far and we all forget with amazing regularity around here.
I'm not sure why I get so frustrated when Rowan forgets to feed his emancipated dog when I forget much more important things.
I hear Rowan start off our morning prayers and Grant stops him, interrupts his petition half-way up.
"Rowan, I think you need to start over. You don't just charge before God demanding what you want. He wants to know that you're grateful for what you have! Thank Him first and then ask whatever you want."
Rowan reasons, "But I don't know what to thank Him for."
Grant stares at him in amazement and then says, "Oh my goodness Rowan! The blue sky, the trees outside our fence, the flowers on the table, they're all from Him! Mommy and Daddy! Avonlea and..."
"Alright I get it. I'll try again."
I sit there barely breathing, fully grasping the lesson I just re-learned.
Gratitude first. It's all from Him.
You don't just charge before God demanding.
Later a little Rose, wild and sweet, comes to ask me for something.
I give it a thought and then reply, "Rose, you'll have to ask Daddy."
I look up, surprised at her trill of delight.
She says, "That means yes!"
She dances off and leaves me speechless.
Her daddy loves her with all his heart, and she knows it. She knows he gives her good things whenever he can. She trusts his love for her.
And I re-learn a lesson. My Father loves me with all His heart. He gives me good things in His timing. I can trust His love for me.
I'm awakened in the night by a little voice. A timid little voice that asks for help changing the sheets.
I stumble into the dark bedroom and pull the soaked sheets off. I mutter in discouragement, "I thought we were past this!" And in the darkness of the room, a voice that I didn't realize was listening responds, "Someday we'll be past this. Someday."
Again, I'm reminded of what I forgot. This forgetting and remembering, this teaching and learning, this straining and striving, will someday be past. Someday.
There is a voice whispering to me in the darkness of these days, a voice that I didn't realize was listening. And it sounds like a child's.