Eden walked slowly into the room, an arm held out in front of her, a necklace dangling from her wrist, “A gentoman mayweed me.”

“What?”

“I got mayweed.”

Lydia snorted, “A baby…getting married? That is so pathetic. You crack me up Eden.”

If you had asked me if I keep a close eye on what my kids watch and read I would have told you “Of course!” – up until about a month ago.

Last spring I found a video called Milo and Otis at our church rummage sale. It was about a kitten, Milo, and a puppy, Otis, who became friends on the farm where they were both born. There is some excitement when Milo falls into the river and is swept away. Fortunately Otis tracks him down and most of the movie is about their respective and then mutual adventures. When we opened the box at home, we were all disappointed to discover that the video inside was “Barbie’s Aerobic Fun” or something equally frightening. Birdie begged to put it in. It only took a minute to know this was nothing I was going to let her watch as I don’t want to spend her college fund at a treatment center for food disorders. It was clearly no good. I briefly explained, removed the video and quickly threw it in the trash.

See: I keep my eyes open.

A month later we were down in North Carolina visiting friends. One morning, my friend, Margaret and I left the dads with the kids and went to a big sale at the fair grounds. I was looking for videos to entertain my colleagues on the 15 hour drive home. The first one I found was Milo and Otis, this time the box AND the actual video. It was not quite two hours long, which was wonderful as every minute without transitions was another peaceful mile down the road. When it was time to head home I handed it to the kids and they were very excited and immediately pushed it into the player. I heard the narrator telling the story and doing the voices. It was clearly a nice movie about a kitten and a puppy, the kids were silently absorbed and so I happily tuned it out.

Although they would watch it from time to time I only caught bits and pieces of it. It took several months before I finally saw the entire movie. It was great: lots of beautiful farm scenery; excitement when Milo falls into the river and is swept away; suspense as Otis tracks him; fun when they finally meet up again and experience many a hijink; romance when they each meet a lady, fall in love and “get married”; and anticipation when both families are expecting young. The film showed them finding winter quarters, getting the ladies comfortable and then soon after, the birth scenes…

!!!

That’s what I thought.

Now don’t get me wrong, I think birth is a beautiful and wondrous event, for humans and animals alike, but that does not mean I want my kids to be observing it unless they are one of the key participants…or doctors…or farmers. I just don’t see the need for them to watch it on a video.

So Milo and Otis was removed from the rotation and I forgot about it.

………………………….

Several weeks ago Eden and I were on Paul’s and my bed. I was reading and Eden was snuggling up next to me pretending to be a cat. She had only been potty trained a few days and I was unconsciously maintaining the hypervigilance of the mother of a recently potty trained toddler. I became conscious of it when my head whipped around and I shut my book because Eden was doing some wiggling.

“What are you doing? Do you need to go potty?”

“I had a pink poopy!”

“What! Where! When!” I jumped up and made a move to whisk her off my bed when she got on her knees and crowed,

“I’M A FODDER! I’M A FODDER!”

And then I realized I had just (out of the corner of my eye) witnessed a cat birth re-enactment.

……………………………

Paul and I laughed ourselves sore that night when I re-enacted the re-enactment.

“Did you tell her that you had had some pink poopies yourself? And that she was one of them.”

“No…no I did not.”

“Are you any bit a baby or are you all big girl?”

“All big guh!”

“You aren’t the teensiest bit a baby?”

“No, I gwoed up.”

“Oh yes. You gwoed up.”

“I wanna gwo at Oh Navy.”

“You want to grow at Old Navy?”

“No, GWO!”

“You’re not saying grow?”

“No, GA-WO!”

“Go?”

“Yes.”

“You want to go to Old Navy?”

“Yes.”

This is my profession: translator

1. I awoke at 3:00 this morning because I was slightly warmish. Broke out a new Bible Study, worked on some menu planning for the next few weeks and tried to chit chat with Paul. A little before 6 there was a great shrieking from one of my children who had wet the bed. I threw in a load of laundry, made up a new bed and tucked the wetter back in, then FINALLY fell back asleep myself.

2. Awoke again after 8 to the sound of war seemingly outside my door, which was my children eating breakfast and Paul correcting them. They were actually in the kitchen. I lay numbly for a little while longer while they whirled and raged around my bed. If I had had the strength I definitely would have put them in a big basket.

3. Early this afternoon we were on a break from school: Eden was keeping me company while I cooked, the big kids were studying animals on the computer and soothing Christmas music was playing. It was the sort of moment that mothers fantacize about – the house was full of tranquil industry.

I need to dash as a little girl just threw a play phone at her brother because he was grabbing her blanket.

This is me kept on my toes.

I awoke this morning at 1:10. Our billion dollar dishwasher was beeping the change of a cycle. Why? I really wish I knew. The funny thing is the hype is all about how quiet it is, which it is when washing the #%^*&! dishes but when it is going into the dry cycle it starts a series of louds beeps, then when it is finished, same trio of noises. If you don’t turn it off it continues to beep a couple more times.

Does that make any sense? It’s like creeping into a sleeping baby’s room to retrieve something, only to start shouting in the doorway, “I did it! I got the stuff! I was soooo quiet! Yippee!” Stupid and annoying, especially at 1 in the morning. So I read, then wrote, then read some more, then finally fell back asleep after 5. Right around six, I sort of awoke again to wake Paul, I wasn’t exactly sure why. As he stumbled out of bed I heard knocking and realized that was what awoke me and thought it was C. Riley. Then it came again very loudly and I figured someone was at our door. I peeked through the window to see two men. One had a flashlight and was turning the doorknob.

“Who is it?” I asked quite calmly.

“It’s the sheriff.”

I stepped away from the door and called to Paul who was wandering around in the kitchen wearing only boxers. “It’s the sheriff.”

“Let me get dressed!”

“Planning on it.” He made for the bedroom to pull something on.

“I’m waiting for my husband,” I called to the men.

“That’s fine.”

“Is something wrong?”

“One of your garage doors is up and the light is blinking.”

“Oh.”

Paul came out, dressed now, and went to the back door which opens to the garage. They quickly discovered an icicle (Christopher!) had fallen in the path of the door. When Paul came home the night before the door must have hit the icicle which tripped the safety device and sent the door back up. It had been up with the light blinking all night. Someone driving by this morning had thought it strange and called 911. I stumbled back to bed while Paul, per the sheriff’s request, took a look around the garage to make sure everything was OK.

It was and he was soon snuggling in behind me. As I drifted back to sleep I thought about the series of events and noticed something: I had never been afraid.

Now some of you brave people in the audience are thinking, “What’s the big deal? Paul was there.” True, but up until a few months ago I lived in fear. Worry was my frame for life. Fear was my reflex. Anxiousness was the norm. The worst of it is that for the most part, I was unconscious of it. I knew I was a nervous nelly when I was alone at home, but I couldn’t see that being fearful was the way I responded to everything. I am grateful that God wasn’t satisfied with me accepting this instead of his perfect love and so He began to convict me. He gave me eyes to see and ears to hear.

As I began to recognize the fears that consumed me and repent choosing them instead of trusting Him, a longing welled up within me to be fearless.

These past months I have begun to experience a freedom and a peace that I have never known. My reflex slowed and then this morning I noticed with sleepy joy that it didn’t even respond when it was reasonable for it to do so.

Lying in bed this morning I realized that as I walked to answer the loud and intense knocking, what I felt was curiousity. I just wanted to know who was there.

The Bible says that “Jesus stands at the door and knocks.” This is a metaphor for our hearts, for our lives. He wants us to let him in, to make room for him. This year I have been shown time and time again the idols and wrong agreements, the covers under which to hide and the outright lies I have allowed to clutter up my heart. But these things don’t satisfy me anymore…they never did. And so I am sweeping my heart clean. I am “preparing Him room”. It is a good time. I am opening my arms wide to receive more of Him, to receive all of Him.

I want Him all.