One of the rich blessings of having written hundreds of devotionals for our homeschool group is this: I have recorded our family's daily experiences, God's daily graces, over the course of the past 18 years! With Ben's graduation coming up, I've been reading through the ones that paint a picture of his childhood. This is among my favorites.
Up on
our hilltop, some days simply seem to be made for the memory books. Like today:
As I stand at the dryer and fold laundry, I can see Benjamin outside, capturing
crickets and grasshoppers. No matter that, last night, he and Matthew have
already caught and fed 30 crickets to our skinks and gray tree frogs, who
pounced upon their moveable feast with leggy glee. Ben and Matthew’s Daddy
estimates that our reptile tank will not need crickets for at least a week.
But,
in spite of this information, Ben continues to chase big black crickets and
little green grasshoppers for his plastic “cricket canister.” Knowing he can’t
feed them just yet to our lizards and frogs, he stuffed the canister with roughly
one pound of grass, leaves and other assorted organic materials, so they would
feel at home (and fatten up?) in their remaining days before becoming reptile
chow. He even snuck them into his room during naptime, so he could enjoy their
chirping companionship. He assured me with blue-eyed sincerity that he did NOT
open the lid. (I am waiting for the day that he sets up cricket races in the
sunroom. . .)
I
don’t remember if I ever chased crickets as a child, but I do remember
chasing my brother and sisters in our postage-stamp backyard in greater Boston.
We climbed apple trees and took aim with rotten fruit. We made cakes and pies
from leaves and mashed berries. We designed forts in the shrubs that surrounded
our house. We played hide-and-seek, mother-may-I, and all kinds of other games
that I can’t recall at the moment (and, honestly, probably never will remember
again). But that simple, sunny, outdoor joy is a vivid memory. I can still feel
it as I watch Benjamin leaping through the uncut grass and wild strawberry
vines carpeting our backyard.
Matthew
finishes his math assignment and runs to the door: “Ben! I can come out now!”
Ben has proven to be an expert cricket locator. But, while he tends to squash
the poor bugs with his aggressive technique, Matthew gets them quickly and
safely into the canister. (You would think they were hunting wildebeest on the
plains of Africa for how seriously Matthew stalks his prey.) They work well as
a team. Day after day, they choose cricket-catching over swimming in the pool,
riding scooters, or even sliding down the mud hill.
As I
describe the delight my boys take in “simple things,” a friend with teenagers
reminds me that their interests will change as they grow up. They won’t be as
content to make up games at home, she says wistfully, but will want to be out
with friends, doing more planned sorts of activities. I am glad to be reminded
that these young years won’t last forever, so I will savor them all the more.
Later,
when I look out the window and see Benjamin and Matthew hot on the trail of
those hopping critters, my heart swells with pleasure at being able to be home
with them during their childhood years, to share in the things that bring them
joy.
And
so I leave my pile of unfolded laundry on the floor, run outside and join them
in the chase.
No comments:
Post a Comment