Let the little children come...unto ME?

During Jesus Christ's ministry, people were bringing their dear children to him. Jesus' disciples were not pleased and rebuked people for getting their little ones in the way of Jesus during his teaching.

Jesus was not happy about this, and he said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it."

This brief yet powerful story is found in the Gospel of Matthew, Mark, and Luke. I find that statistically, Jesus statement makes a lot of sense. (Not that I have to statistically prove his words in order to validate or believe him, but just follow my thoughts here.) The director of children's ministry at our church has reported that the research shows many believers come to experience the salvation of Jesus Christ's death and resurrection at a youthful age.

In our neighborhood, we have been deemed the "kid magnet." Even before any youngsters lived with us, many neighborhood children stopped and visited quite a bit. Whether toasting marshmallows on a fire or just doing our yard work, people just came to talk. Through this magnetism, we have been able to take children to church events, such as Vacation Bible School, the AWANA program, youth group, and even church services.

At times, I selfishly want to have the house all to myself. Jeff and I try to keep the perspective that the house is God's, and we just happen to live here for now. However, sometimes I just want to hoard God's blessing all to myself, send all of the ankle biters home, and curl up with a good book on the hammock (which the second one is "no longer in service" a.k.a. broken due to high child's play.) Yesterday was one of those selfish times.

I awoke to a wiggly little eight year old climbing over my bed and giggling, saying, "Mom, it's time to get up." Soon, my husband and son were having an intelligent conversation, of which I did not wish to participate, over top of ME and in MY sleeping quarters.

I dragged myself out of bed to the singing of my excessively happy eight year old. The nonsensical lyrics grew exponentially louder as time progressed. I was struggling with my allergies and a sinus headache from the said allergies, so the noise, joyful or not, was getting on my nerves. I gazed upon my counter-top, cluttered with the remnants of the previous night's dirty supper dishes, random drawings, toys, and left-over bridal shower supplies.

Somewhere during this time, my husband had left for work, and my son was getting even louder. I turned to Keegan and gently told him to lower his voice because my head hurt. He responded well initially, but eventually forgot. After three or four cycles of this, I sent him to his room for constantly "forgetting". I grew less gentle, too.

After a haze that included breakfast, getting dressed, making beds and other things, we were ready to go. I offered to watch three of four friends' children while they took the fourth to have out-patient surgery. Their mom seemed more frazzled that I was.

I took the children to the park for my Wednesday morning Bible Study. The three other moms and I constantly kept one eye on our Bible Study and one eye on "our" children. I received several interruptions including:

"I'm hungry," in spite of the three variety of snacks on the picnic table.

"When can we go?"

"He/she's doing ________________" (fill in the blank).

"I need to go the bathroom."

"I need a drink."

Fortunately, the baby entertained herself by playing with her feet most of the time. :)

On the way home from the park, I had to stop to get a few groceries. I had to get some bread because the bread I baked the previous day had been sliced completely into Texas toast style slices--great for supper bread, horrible for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Also, I needed peach jam for a recipe for supper because an exuberant husband and son finished the peach jam I had originally purchased for the occasion. Many comments from the children followed:

"Can I push the cart?"
"No, not with a baby in it."
"Why?"
"Because I said, 'No!'"

"Can I have ___________?"

"Can we get ________________ for lunch instead?"

"Is that all we need to get?"

"Mom takes forever in the store." -This comment I blame on Jeff.

We made our way to the check-out, and a gracious cashier placed our five items into three separate bags in order for each child to carry a bag. We traversed to the parking lot, and finally buckled everyone into the car.

Once home, I noticed that we had a roll of paper towels. I did not want paper towels, and they were not on the purchase receipt. I guess I will take them back another day.

I sent three outside to play while the one-year-old and I made lunch. I kept the dogs inside to keep them dry from the pond. I tried to hold the baby and make PB&J's. Finally I gave up, and set the baby down, hoping the dogs would leave her alone. They did not. She was fine for a while, but Schnitzel kept crowding her space, eventually knocking her down. She cried. I wanted to.

As I'm trying to comfort the baby, Chester decided to try and get some of the food on the table. He did not succeed, but I felt more frustrated. Finally, we did succeed in having lunch.

I sent everyone back outside, and attempted to clear the table. A neighbor boy came over to play then, too. Four children could not figure out anything to do with a menagerie of toys and entertainment items. Finally, they decided to fish in the pond.

Our realtor called. She wanted to come over and take more pictures of the house, and put up a "for sale" sign. I thought that I had enough time to clear the counter.

Soon, one of the boys came inside, saying that he needed my help because he had caught a frog on the hook. I went outside, handed the baby to her older brother, and got pliers to perform froggy surgery. While doing these three things, the brother said that he hooked it through the eye. I proceeded to get the fillet knife, too, expecting to kill the frog that was hooked. Keegan had kept the frog in the water to help keep it alive to that point. As he pulled the frog out of the water, I rolled my eyes back into my head. The bullfrog must have been ten inches long from nose to toe. I groaned. I can handle fish. Frogs are not my favorite. Big frogs rank even lower.

Next the children all asked if I had to kill the frog. I told them that I didn't see much choice if it was hooked through the eye. Fortunately, it wasn't, and after much grief and gnashing of teeth, the giant frog was free. I told the brother that I would take the baby, and he could take the frog back to the pond. Then I decreed that no more fishing would take place that day.

Four more phone calls came. One was the baby's mother, telling me that she could take a nap in her car seat inside the house. The sprinkler system had begun to water the lawn, sprinkling inside the van's open windows onto the baby's car seat. I cleaned out the car seat, and proceeded to put the baby in our bedroom to sleep. She did not fuss. Yay for a content baby!

One phone call wanted the neighbor boy back home. One less child for a time.

I went back inside to clean up the kitchen and dining room. Dirty children came inside to play. I sent them back outside to notice that many recycling boxes and various items from the garage were out in the woods to make a fort. Exasperated, I commanded that all boxes, umbrellas, and garage items return to the garage except for the tarps and rope.

God gave me a calm about all of the children at this point in time. Things weren't going well, but God gave me peace. I later had the chance to clear the table and the counter, and I was reasonably calm.

After running to the library, the neighborhood boy came back with his teenage sister. I told the sister that nobody was allowed in the house until after the realtor came. The older sister was very helpful because nobody came inside for a time.

The realtor came. Instantly, five children came into the house because the realtor had come. Next time, I must remember to say, "Nobody comes inside the house until after the realtor leaves." I sent them back outside. One of the younger girls rang the doorbell. The dogs barked, and the baby was no longer asleep. Oh, well.

I survived the realtor visit. She is really nice, and she was very understanding about all of the children. We went to take pictures and measurements of the inside. She wanted a picture of the side yard, but there were three children moaning and groaning on the ground in the side yard. One child had the toy rifle while the others were pretending to die.

I turned to the realtor, and said, "A bunch of dead children in the side yard probably won't be a great selling point, will they?!" She and I laughed.

Suddenly, all of the children and dogs ran towards the pond. I had two wet dogs, too many muddy children, but the realtor got a picture of the side yard! She put a sign in front of our house, and my heart sank. I thought about all of the children God had put in our path by placing us at this house as well as many other thoughts.

Our realtor finally left me to the children.

Eventually, it was time for the children to go home. I had to send the neighbors home in order to drive the other children home. I announced that the time had come, and everyone responded with the fact that they were having so much fun and there was so much to do. How ironic!

I think my mind changes as much as the childrens'. Sometimes, the children can seem to be a nuisance to all of my important plans for the day. In the end, living God's will is the most important agenda item of the day. If I can accomplish a lot of tasks, that's great, but sometimes God just wants me to be available to the youngsters.

Also, I want to stay in our neighborhood, but God may have other plans for our family in another community. I certainly want to do God's will; we're just not sure where that is right now.