As they have gotten older (at 4 and 8, they seem so old now), the kids don't need my direction as much. Now they just use up my supplies at an alarming rate. They can demolish a ream of paper and a $3.50 roll of tape in a matter of days. And they leave behind a terrible mess.
Then I get mad and think of all the money they are wasting. I yell and take away the supplies and banish them from the kitchen table. Sometimes I remember to have them pick up their mess first. But seriously, what's that about? These experiences are the stuff childhood memories are made of.
I think that is about me being in control. I like to think of them as extensions of myself, which would mean they only move or act when I give the message. Yeah, right. I can guide, steer, direct, whatever you want to call it. It's probably even ok if I give some boundaries to the tape usage. But the reality is that I am not in control. These children are unique people with personalities distinct from mine.
The One who is in control has given my children a desire to create. They draw me pictures with fantastic stories attached to them. Using scissors, tape, and glue, along with sugar cubes, cotton balls, Q-tips, paper clips and pebbles from the backyard, they make a scene with a campfire and a tent. Where Boo leads, Rooster follows; and I frequently end up with two similar creations. It is fascinating to see the creativity spilling beyond the boundaries of what I have shown them.
This creativity is not just something I started by stocking an art bin. Curiosity, the insatiable need to explore and to discover how things work, this is a gift. We are all given a gift in childhood, the gift of wonder. First we are amazed by the world around us; then as we appreciate it, we are amazed all over again to discover that we were created to be a part of this big, curious world.
"Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!
Your workmanship is marvelous--and how well I know it.
You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,
as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.
You saw me before I was born.
Every day of my life was recorded in your book.
Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.
How precious are your thoughts about me, O God!"
Psalm 139: 14-17
I suppose the depth of my obsession for keeping that art bin stocked comes from a passion to foster that sense of wonder, to help my children hold on to it as long as possible. They themselves are unique creations, each with a purpose in life, and I want nothing more than for them to reach for that destiny with eager, outstretched hands.
If only I could remember that when I'm looking all over the house for a piece of tape still on the roll.
Krista; Thank you, I needed this. You are so right! We try to squeeze out all of our children's 'imperfections' - but we forget that they were created with them by the One who designed them. And by the way; don't we replace their 'imperfections' with our own?
ReplyDeleteI have been behind on your blog and have just realized how busy you have been.
ReplyDeleteGreat writing. These posts are the reason I haven't been posting. Nothing profound to say, so I'd rather read your deep thoughts.
I hope you're well.