The Gift of Words: Day by Day

"Love (that is) strong, lasting, is not casually given or received but is forged by keeping one's promise to love - day by day - for a lifetime." - Sandra Fribley from "The Mennonite"

Last night, I rushed home from a coffee shop meeting and arrived just as my dearest wife was cooking up some bacon strips (turkey bacon actually - yea for health!) to throw onto our corn chowder. I quickly changed into some comfortable clothes and returned to help Son #1 into his "big boy seat" and pull Son #2 over to the table in his high chair.

What was about to ensue was a typical household meal.

Son #1 refusing to eat because he's so intent on playing and talking. He would cycle through his lift of excuses:
1. I don't like it ("Bud, it's filled with cheese, corn, bacon and potatoes - what don't you like?!")
2. I'm tired ("Okay, then let's go to bed.")
3. I'm done daddy ("No, umm... there's still a full bowl of soup in front of you.")

Son #2 would eat ravenously, but then cry at the top of his lungs until someone would hold him. He'll run his hands through his hair, rub them in his eyes, strategically placing bits of food in places that are the hardest to clean (behind an eyelid, up his nose, twisted into the hair behind his ear).

But before this routine of craziness began, we prayed:

Come, Lord Jesus
Be our guest
And let these gifts to us
Be blessed

These gifts to us? Which ones? The soup getting cold as Lovely Wife bounces the little one so he'll stop wailing? The continuous insistence of a three-year old on having his own way? The bath that we have to give every night because the boys can't keep their food-lathered hands out of their hair? The punishments threatened, the time-outs given, and lack of time to connect? Which gifts?

These gifts. These common gifts, born out of common prayer, that we forge our love out of. Sitting down at the dining with two healthy and lovable boys is a gift, even if they won't eat for an hour and a half. Making dinner with my Beautiful Bride is a gift, especially when songs are playing in the background, and we get to dance or sing! Maybe we'll steal a kiss!

One of my favorite poems inspires me often, it goes like this:

Make routine
a stimulus. Remember
it can cease. Forge
hosannahs from doubt.
Hammer on doors with the heart.
All occasions invite God's
mercies and all times
are his seasons.
- From "What My Teachers Taught Me I Try to Teach My Students " by Maura Eichner

The common. The gifts of routine that we so often miss. Day by day we receive these opportunities. I believe we can either let them fade into nothingness, draining us away and lulling us to sleep. Or we can use each day of ordinary history to forge love.

Dearest, may we choose love.