The knock
came at the door around 5:30pm. It had
been a long day, and I was feeling worn out and discouraged about trying to
adjust to life in our new town. I was in the middle of making dinner, but I
hurried to see who had come to visit us.
It was a new friend of mine, a lady who lives only a few blocks
away.
I invited
her in, noticing that she had brought her little daughter with her. She was very direct and said that she’d come
to see how much I would charge her to give English classes to her daughter,
Patty. I said that I didn’t offer classes,
nor was I looking for money, but that if she just wanted to bring Patty over to
play a couple mornings a week that she would probably pick it up
naturally. My friend thought that
sounded great.
Patty came
to play the next morning, and it was instantly obvious that she was a bright
and funny little girl, and that she would have no trouble at all picking up
English. She and Z spent the first
morning colouring, and playing with toys, and painting pictures.
It was truly wonderful.
As you all
know I have been praying for a sibling for Z.
There have been many days when I felt angry with God for not providing a
real friend for my child, someone who he could spend a lot of his time with,
not just see once in a while. So many of
the kids here treat him differently because of his skin color, and I wanted to
find him a friend who would treat him like a peer, not a pet.
So God sent
Patty.
I don’t
know what happened really, but God has used that little girl to show me how to
find joy in my life again. How to be a
happy mom again. Z had been so lonely,
and now he is content becuase he knows that every morning his buddy is coming
over. I can enjoy him as my only son
without feeling guilty and sad that he doesn’t have siblings.
Before, I
kept thinking that God expected me to start up some kind of huge “ministry”,
and to spend my time visiting hospitals and preaching in the streets or
something. There is value in all those
kinds of work, but for me I had become burdened with “missionary guilt”, thinking
that I needed to be busy all the time. I
felt guilty when I enjoyed a quiet day at home with Z… but God has used a three
year old to remind me that being a mom is my most important work.
These days,
my mornings are full of playdough-shaping, finger-painting, mud-cake-making,
and story-reading… and the walls echo with the giggles of to little kids that I
adore. I make them snacks and tie their
shoes, and watch them run outside...
just for the joy of it.
