We had a visitor today.
And it was total chaos.
My crew, every single one of them, were loud and boisterous and jumping around or lying on the floor. (Seriously y’all, Cooter was trying to do back flips in the middle of all this.) Several conversations were going on at once–about dolls and Star Wars (or was it Star Trek? You know that LaForge guy is on Reading Rainbow, right?) and work and coffee. And then, bless her sweet soul, I had no more good sense and decorum than to pull out the pictures from the Mouse House and subject her to them.
Bless her heart.
It was overwhelming to say the least. All of us crowded up around her, barely giving her space to take a breath. For sure no one was taking a pause to breathe as the often one-sided conversations continued. She could barely get a word in edgewise it seemed.
And she sat in her sweet, quiet, genteel way and took it all in.
She’s a calming force, that one. At least where my soul is concerned.
After she left, I found myself shaking my head, frustrated. I even wondered aloud to my children as to what on earth had gotten into all of them. As one of my favorite teachers at the child care center where I worked twenty years ago used to say, they were “off the chain.”
And in the midst of all of that emotional mess, it occurred to me that maybe I was most frustrated because I wanted to be the one all but curled up next to her, sharing my thoughts and dreams and woes and joys.
It was then that the words came to me, almost a whisper in my ear. “Comfort.” And “special.” And then I wanted to cry. It’s been a while since my children have had someone dote on their every word like that, ask them questions and then wait patiently for the answer, no matter how long it took or how far around their elbow they went to get there. But today, today, they had exactly that. No wonder they were clamoring over each other, voices and bodies, to share their stories and excitement. So yeah, good tears.
Am I rationalizing my children’s less than *ahem* perfect behavior? Maybe.
Or maybe I’m just giving thanks for the one who sat there, so loving and patient, and listened and always does for that matter. I’m thankful for the love she gave my children and for the message she sent later that was so grace-filled–well, if I didn’t already love her and think she’s the bee’s knees that would have sealed the deal.
Here’s to keeping it real and unrehearsed and filled with love, and all the messiness that entails. Because I think messy, loud, bouncy love might just be the best kind of all.
May someone dote on you for a little bit today too.
Love to all.