Learning to Enjoy

I genuinely enjoy my children. I remember when it was not always so. I don't know if that was due to their "littleness" or my selfishness, maybe both. All I know is that I enjoy them now.

I remember when their noise and demands grated on my nerves. I took it all personally. I felt slighted and taken advantage of. I feel ashamed of that now, but I must admit the truth. I longed for "me" time. I looked forward to bedtime. In hindsight, I can see the dilemma through which I struggled. Little kids are hard. They whine and demand and epitomize the word persistence. Many a day finished with me almost in tears. I was just so tired.

I know there were days that I enjoyed them. I know I tried to enjoy them. But trying and doing are distinctly different. If you have to try to enjoy your children, you end up plagued with floating guilt. I remember enjoying snuggles in the morning and the delicious scent of syrup in their hair after breakfast. I remember teaching them to read and stretching out in the floor next to them playing with counting bears.

I've always liked them. I've always attempted to enjoy them. Now, it is so much easier.

I enjoy waking them in the mornings and kissing their cheeks as they stumble to the kitchen for breakfast. I can't help but smile as I see them each working at their own task, learning and concentrating. I relax into their teasing and hugs and easy affection for me and each other. I just like them.

I like Maggie's profound statements and Ty's wit. I like Gracie's observations and Brody's giggles. I like explaining a math concept and watching their eyes light up with understanding. I revel in their ability to tidy the house in thirty minutes flat.

As they grow older, I feel the days shorten. I see the platform ahead where they will disembark this train that we've traveled on for so long and it fills me with a bittersweet dread.

At the end of the day, I want them to know they are loved. By me and by an omnipotent God. I want them to remember their childhood with fondness and extend grace to me in all of my failures. I want them to trust God with all their heart, soul and mind. I want to spend eternity in heaven getting to know the reality of the potential I see in them. I want to look at them then and say, "There you are. There is the person I always knew was in there."

But for now, I will finish this blog, go command them to bed and kiss their cheeks when teeth are brushed and lights are out. I will enjoy this moment; they feel so fleeting now...