Wonder
We had the funniest conversation sitting around the table for lunch today about armpit hair. Kennedy has been involved in a basketball clinic all week, run by the high school boys team. Apparently she hasn't noticed this masculine feature before because she was pretty grossed out by it. The kids were all saying that if women had it, it would be disgusting, to which I only chuckled. She asked me if I knew about this discovery and I said, "Well how do you know they all have it?" She said, "Mom, they have to reach over us to get the ball sometimes and it's-- eww!!" She recoiled at the very real thought of it.
This brought a real sense of awe to me at the privilege of being able to watch each one of these children discover the world through their own eyes and experiences. Tre read his first sentence today, to me, under my instruction, after many (agonizing) long weeks of building on seemingly crumbled blocks. Somehow, somewhere along the way, it clicked and he got it. He's trying to read everything now, cereal boxes, book titles, anything he can get his hands on. It's amazing.
Ravi Zacharias wrote a book several years ago called Recapture the Wonder. I have never read it, despite it's annual appearance on my TO BUY FOR DALE Christmas list, but the snippet on the back of the book has kept this thought in my mind all these years. It's that God is filled with wonder at our discoveries, and shares that joy with us in our jubilation and triumph when we get to the other side of the mountain. Dale and I have had conversations about this many times, but most recently I recall him saying that maybe everything in the function of our planet isn't set on some schedule, but God is so pleased with the beauty of a sunrise, that He does it over and over and over again, new every morning. It's an awe-inspiring thought, isn't is? Maybe the birth of a child is so spectacular that He can't wait to see the tears roll down our cheeks one more time as the doctor places another life into our care. It's bigger than the fact that the little bundle of love will have to sleep in a laundry basket when it outgrows the car seat because the pack-n-play is broken.
And really, even if we did have a bed, a laundry basket is a lot more mobile, which makes life more convenient for me.
And that's really what this is all about, isn't it?
This brought a real sense of awe to me at the privilege of being able to watch each one of these children discover the world through their own eyes and experiences. Tre read his first sentence today, to me, under my instruction, after many (agonizing) long weeks of building on seemingly crumbled blocks. Somehow, somewhere along the way, it clicked and he got it. He's trying to read everything now, cereal boxes, book titles, anything he can get his hands on. It's amazing.
Ravi Zacharias wrote a book several years ago called Recapture the Wonder. I have never read it, despite it's annual appearance on my TO BUY FOR DALE Christmas list, but the snippet on the back of the book has kept this thought in my mind all these years. It's that God is filled with wonder at our discoveries, and shares that joy with us in our jubilation and triumph when we get to the other side of the mountain. Dale and I have had conversations about this many times, but most recently I recall him saying that maybe everything in the function of our planet isn't set on some schedule, but God is so pleased with the beauty of a sunrise, that He does it over and over and over again, new every morning. It's an awe-inspiring thought, isn't is? Maybe the birth of a child is so spectacular that He can't wait to see the tears roll down our cheeks one more time as the doctor places another life into our care. It's bigger than the fact that the little bundle of love will have to sleep in a laundry basket when it outgrows the car seat because the pack-n-play is broken.
And really, even if we did have a bed, a laundry basket is a lot more mobile, which makes life more convenient for me.
And that's really what this is all about, isn't it?
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