Simple games, like filling muffin tins with colored pegs, occupy my Bear while I can get the last of dinner fixed before hubbie comes in the door and provides the best distraction ever for the little animals. We don't resist PBS programs. I thank God for them every day. But they only work for Lion. My sixteen month-old is insistent on pushing chairs to the counter and climbing, climbing, climbing every day. At times I can only move them to another room, close the door, and hug him while he wails as though deeply wounded.
My job is to nurture, teach, and provide a playground of exploring all life has to offer. It's only difficult when I want to have some notion of control in my life. Is it asking a lot to want a semi-clean home? A few moments on Facebook? A phone call with a friend? An extra minute to put product in my hair?
I'm reminded of a former theology professor who spoke of the interior playground--that place where we can go to pray, meditate, contemplate, and delight in God's plenty. Sometimes I have only a minuted to go there while filling up our enormous humidifier with water from the tap. I breathe, close my eyes, and descend into quiet darkness with a mantra filling each breath: Peace. Joy. Hope. Trust. Jesus. Jesus.
Although I am grateful for the experience of living a life of prayer in my 20's, I find this gift of motherhood to be The Great Test. Can I be centered without the Silence and Solitude? Can I enter my sons' playground and that be enough? Is it enough to splash in bowls of water, throw colored pegs around the room, and climb on chairs. I want it to be.