“Mom, was Julia excited when she found out she was going to have a little brother?”
A better mother would have lied to her 7-year-old son, but with my 12-year-old daughter sitting within earshot, I knew it was pointless.
“No, she had her heart set on a little sister,” I admit.
“What?! Well, here you go, Julia, here’s your big ‘gift’!” my son yells as he points at his 4-year-old sister sitting next to him in the back of the van, his voice filled with sarcasm and indignation.
And so the bickering begins, quickly escalating to full-on shouting amongst the three siblings, dashing any hope I held of enjoying an hour of quiet reflection at our favorite county park. We arrive a few minutes later at a busy playground, where my children split up and head to their favorite spots, the eldest swinging from a tire, the middle taking to the slide and the youngest climbing anything within reach (in a pink tutu, as usual).
In spite of the unusually mild summer weather, the sun gets the best of them, and we decide it’s time to venture down to the quiet creek bed. My son, who’s never been to a beach, marvels at the sandy path that winds through the woods down to the quiet stream.
Though we’ve been to the creek several times, its beauty still strikes me as if I’m setting eyes upon it for the first time. The water’s only a few inches deep at this spot. A lush forest canopy provides ample shade and the magic of streams of sunlight filtering through its leaves. I can’t help but picture Laura Ingalls Wilder playing on the banks of Plum Creek.
We sit down on the rocky stream bed and pull off our shoes and socks. My children dip their toes in the water; it’s chilly, but not too chilly for them. They venture out. I try to follow, but quickly notice that even smooth rocks hurt your feet more when said feet are carrying the weight of a full-grown mama as opposed to a young child. I sit down and put my shoes back on.
“You guys go on out a little bit, just stay where I can see you, okay?”
My children nod. I watch as my 12-year-old turns over rocks, examines tree limbs, looks for minnows. My 7-year-old son frets over his pant legs being wet, worries that he’ll fall, screams that he might have gotten dirty stream water in his nose, and questions how long we can stay and what we’ll do next. And my 4-year-old is, quite simply, lost in the moment. Of course, as mom, I sit on the side of the creek and try to capture the moment with as many photos as I can without dropping my iPhone in the water.
Later that day I scroll through photos from our morning at the park; mostly nondescript scenic lake shots, with a few of my 4-year-old trying to ride a large frog statute like she’s in a rodeo. But one catches my eye. The youngest daughter, my intrepid explorer, stands just ahead of her older siblings, curious, fearless and ready to explore. My pensive, thoughtful son stands back, carefully considering his next move, wondering whether it’s safe to keep walking. And my oldest daughter stands between them, her hand outstretched, reaching for his, helping him to move forward. And it brings tears to my eyes.
Only moments before these same three children had been at war with one another. But somehow, here, in this quiet little creek, it was as if they were the only three people in the world. And each of them had everything they needed in their two siblings. I love my children with all my heart, but just as importantly, each one of my children loves one another with all their hearts. No matter what lies ahead on that muddy, uncertain path, the leader, the follower and the intrepid explorer will never wander that path.
"Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing." James 1:2-4
Kathy Deters
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