He kept asking me to come look and see, at least every 30 seconds or so.
The energetic boy, full of nearly eight years of wonder, was a bit down because of fever and sore throat. He saw a map drawing that big sister had made, which inspired him to create his own. He asked for some colored pencils and announced he, too, was going to draw an island, just like she had done.
Every few strokes of bright green on the white paper, and he asked me to come. I was in the kitchen, he about eight feet away on the kitchen table. My mind was on the ubiquitous pile of dirty dishes and kitchen chores, and with every request, I could feel a tiny bit of ire start to rise.
But, no, I stopped myself… I didn’t huff or get angry. I didn’t tell him I was too busy. I went, each time he asked, and I looked, and found myself genuinely interested in his imaginary island of green. He pointed to his lake, which he declared to be “fifty miles wide”, the field, and the meandering blue river. He even made his own “map key”, with the symbols to identify each.
I told him how much I would love to visit that island, and wouldn’t it be wonderful if drawings could come to life… which prompted him to think about jumping in the lake and said if the paper came to life, we could just dive right in. (Oh, if only that were true!) I told him how rich the different greens were, and how his picture is probably what a tropical island like Hawaii looks like. Since the day was bright and sunny, I pointed out that the green and blue in his colored pencil drawing were similar to the colors of the sky and grass outside. He glanced outside the window to compare.
“Do you like my island?” he inquired.
“Very much so,” I answered, truthfully.
I know he won’t remember how many dishes I had to do that day, but he may remember our conversation, my response toward him, or the drawing itself. I realize– I can’t tell which drawing or which conversation out of the many in childhood will be among those he will remember.
And I thought, isn’t this what my Father wants me to do? Isn’t He waiting for me to come to Him… and wouldn’t He be pleased if it were indeed every few minutes that I would pull on his sleeve, and ask Him to come, look, and see what I’m doing, and inquire of Him: Do you like it, Father?
Sharing with Laura at The Wellspring: Playdates with God
Sharing with L.L. Barkat at Seedlings in Stone: On, In and Around Mondays
(it’s Tuesday, so I’m still “around” Monday…)
Sharing with Michelle at Graceful: Hear it on Sunday/Use it on Monday
Sharing with Jen at Finding Heaven: Soli Deo Gloria