A Family Sunday Afternoon

Posted Sun Sep 15, 2002 in

Daughter, Son-in-Law, and Grandson spent the afternoon with us yesterday. We ate a late lunch together, then dispersed to the things around the house that are here to interest us. Son-in-Law turned on the football game and watched and fell asleep on the couch for a good part of the afternoon. Young Son played around with the computer and spent part of his time visiting with Wife, Daughter, and Grandson in the kitchen where we sat and just talked.

I was tired after a weekend of working through a bunch of personal issues; emotionally drained is probably a better term. But, a number of things are resolved, and a new pastor is appointed in our church, and we move forward.

As we sat around the table, Grandson needed some attention. The cookies Wife was baking were ready so she handed him to me to remove them from the oven. He needed a drink. I held him while Daughter went to get more juice. Waiting, he fell asleep in my arms. It reminded me of the many times when, years ago, I held my own children and felt them drift off to sleep. That sweet heaviness is so marvelous — the trust implied by the ability to go to sleep is dumbfounding. The similarity to how God must feel about us when we trust in Him that way is not wasted on me.

I remember many of the times when my own children slept in my arms. I could spend hours of my day just holding them. I can’t count the number of times I just held them, unwilling to put them down in their beds, sitting quietly in my own thoughts, or watching television with them sleeping on me. Those are times that I would not give up, not for anything.

Daughter and I went into the living room to sit and enjoy each other’s company and watch a little of the football game. She sat next to me, rubbing my back and we stayed close to each other. We’ve shared an ability to find comfort, fellowship, and confidence in just being around each other. Words are unnecessary. Sometimes, when we talk on the telephone, long periods of silence happen as we fall into our own thoughts and there is never a sense of discomfort in that. I fell asleep, so relaxed, with the sounds of my children and the football game in the background.

Wife, Daughter, Grandson, and I found ourselves later in the master bedroom. Grandson loves to play on the bed, wrestling, and tickling, and laughing. We all played for a long time. Later, I sat on the bed and looked at Daughter and had a startlingly vivid flashback of my mom. Daughter shares a number of physical characteristics with my mother. She has the same physical build and her face is similar in shape.

I remembered visiting Mom in the hospital either after some surgery or after one of her bad times. I walked into the room, calling softly. She was asleep in the hospital bed, machines around her. I walked to her side, filled with sadness and a sense of loss, and quietly stroked her hair. She never stirred. I stood there a few minutes, loving her, praying, and then left, silently.

I looked down at Daughter, lying on the bed, while listening to Wife and Daughter talking and saw my mom in the hospital. I stroked Daughter’s hair and realized that it felt just like Mom’s. Moments passed in my reverie and recollection of the past.

The reverie was broken when Daughter needed some eyedrops because her contact lenses were dry. Wife brought out the Visine and I administered the drops. Turnabout is fair play, because Daughter always gets a bit of a kick from putting drops in my eyes. I tend to start with the shock of the cool liquid on my eyes and she always laughs at me.

That’s really OK with me.

Young Son came into the room and asked to play a game. He headed out to find something. Soon, Grandson came in and asked “Come play?” and so we all went back to the kitchen. I brought the notebook computer, not being a game player but enjoying the social time anyway, and spent the time listening to them chatter, engaging in the chatter, and working on a story. The evening ended quietly, peacefully, with goodbyes exchanged as they drove away to their own home.

The quiet ministry my children bring to me is a mystery. It is real, it is loved, it is awesome, but it is a mystery. I accept it as the grace of God given to me, as His child. I am thankful for it.