Jul
25
2014
Rain Boots and Icy Drinks
Posted in Motherhood 6 Comments
I saw him out of the corner of my eye.
Movement, little boy movement.
A blur and then he was gone.
It was the sound of his footsteps that baffled me.
Quiet, yet with a bit of a clump-clump sound.
I turned around when contagious laughter filled the air.
It was now two little boys that I saw.
Brothers who looked so much alike yet one was obviously the leader.
They followed their mother with her almost-filled grocery cart.
They were followed by their sisters doing whatever girl things you can do in a store.
The clump-clump still had me baffled.
It was not until they passed me that his feet became visible.
Rain boots.
The clump-clump of rain boots when not a cloud was in the sky.
The kind of rain boots that have the handles on the side for easy put-on and take-off.
The kind of rain boots that unfortunately, only a child can wear without turning heads.
All except mine!
This little leader walked to the beat of different drummer.
He obviously dressed himself this morning.
With four children and grocery shopping to do, there were other things to contend with.
He was neat and clean and it didn’t matter that his clothes were mismatched.
Plaids with stripes.
Sunglasses indoors.
And, of course, the rain boots.
The rain boots with the characters pictured on the side.
The characters from the movie about cars with their big eyes and bigger personality.
This little boy loved his boots.
This little boy loved his sunglasses.
This little boy loved being a little boy.
I wanted to stop and talk to the mom and tell her how her son made me smile.
He was so kind to his little brother as they walked along.
He had a smile that could light up a room.
He seemed to enjoy the clump-clump sound way too much.
I admired her for giving him permission to be himself.
There was no one that needed to be impressed with matched clothes.
There were many that needed to see the simple joy of childhood lived out through him.
The sisters seemed oblivious to their brothers; they were deep in animated conversation.
I smiled, remembering.
At a different store was another little boy.
Another little boy with little boy energy.
A little boy who wanted his mom to get him a drink.
A little boy who was so excited about his choice of an icy drink.
The drink was a strange color of orange and had a thick straw.
A domed lid was on the cup, so that the icy drink would be contained.
The little boy was talking, like little boys do, barely taking a breath between sentences.
His mother was giving him precise instructions as to how he was to hold his cup.
His hands were little and the cup was big.
The cup tilted and the icy drink started to spill.
There were threats about what he would not be able to watch later when they got home.
There were threats that he would have to sit in a shopping cart.
He continued to talk, not out of disobedience as much as naivete.
He was probably only about four years old.
She continued to be upset over the icy drink that never actually spilled.
Her voice was getting more frustrated and her tone louder.
I think I should just put you up for adoption.
I couldn’t believe my ears.
I turned to see her whisk the child away, with a frustrated force.
The child was scrambling to keep up, his little steps no match for her large ones.
He had no idea what she said.
Did she?
I know she was frustrated.
I wanted to go up to her and tell her that the day will get better.
But she was too quick to leave.
I don’t think she would have heard me even if I could have reached her.
How I wish I could have spoken to her.
I was adopted, I would have told her.
I was given a better life since my natural mother was only sixteen-years old.
My husband has a wife and five children were born because I was given life.
What you said in frustration is really a wonderful thing; not a threat.
I don’t think you meant those words.
I am sure you cannot imagine your life without your precious little boy.
Days like this are hard for you, but days like this are hard for him, too.
He is just a little boy with little hands that need your big hands to help him.
He is just a little boy who needs to know that you love him and enjoy being with him.
Being a mother is the hardest job you will ever do.
Being a mother is the most important job you will ever do.
She never heard a word; the conversation took place in my head.
The conversation was between God and me for the woman and her little boy.
How I wish I could have talked to her.
I talked to God instead which was far better.
I wanted to hear the clump-clump of rain boots.
I wanted to be reminded of days that go well and little boys that enjoy being little boys.
I wanted to hug that woman who was having a hard day.
I wanted to smile at that little boy with the little hands longing for big hands to help him.
In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.
(Romans 8:26)
All I could do was pray.
And that was everything.
Esther and I were in a Sears in Delaware, when this women came dragging a little boy, who was fussing and crying. We looked at him and sort of aahed. With that she said, :Do you want him”? We said yeah, and with that she got quite angry and left in a huff. Not having children of our own, I guess it looks a little easier, from the outside, to have patience when you are having a bad day.
Charlie
Charlie,
If we only thought of how our words sound to those precious little ears. I know you and Esther did not have children of your own, but look how many children God gave you through your ministry! So many children who have been blessed because your large hands helped their little hands know Jesus. Thank you for your humble service, Charlie. So many are blessed, including me!
Gina
What a beautiful reminder for me today!! We’ve been visiting Matt in Virginia for his training for 2 weeks…. 2 weeks in a hotel with 3 kids 6 and under… Ughhh how I get so frustrated.. Thank you for the reminder to watch my words and be more patient.. They will only be little for a time and although it is crazy frustrating sometimes I never really thought about how frustrated they are as well <3 Beautiful post Gina!
Melissa,
It is not easy, but it is so worth it. The heart of a child is so very precious and needs to be protected. We need to reach out to each other and encourage each other to press on. Little eyes are watching and little hands need our help. You are doing a good job with your children. Every child is a gift from God.
Gina
As the days of summer dwindle, I have the joy of participating in swim championships where hundreds of 5 -18 year olds are milling around, spilling water ice and happily waiting for their 2 minute events! It is an annual reminder that my beloved profession involves children. Many mom and dads are counting the days for school to begin and have that frustrated look. I have Christ to thank, “Let the children come to me.” I’ll take them!
Cathy,
I’ll take them as well! As you and I know, the time with our children is so very short. How I wish we could reach out to other Moms on those frustrating days and just lovingly remind them of the brevity. Maybe every once and a while, we will get that chance.
Regina