Finding beauty in chicken poop

So I get up in the morning and dread the day because there’s 10 hours in this house with 2 boys and me. It’s raining outside and the kids are already going balistic.

They eat porridge and the table and hands and faces are full of it.
Some lands on the floor.
After like, forever, they are done eating and they are cleaned up and go play.

One second later the first cry ensues.
Mom, everlasting judge and peacemaker, comes in between the two little cannibals.

We are now 24 minutes into our day.?An eternity awaits us.

I make up my mind to be patient and kind and I open my bible. This seemed to be the signal for the boys to start fighting over a book. My annoyance bubbles up again, from my stomach into my chest up to my throat until it reaches my eyes and the fire spews out at my two little muppets.

Gabri?l is young enough to be vulnerable. He cries at my anger. Abel is old enough to react in anger and his anger is fierce, pushing me away with flickering, angry eyes.
I push my bible away because it does not seem to do much good.

We sit on the couch, a sorry heap, hugging each other and saying the sorries.

Moving to the rug with the Duplos, we build the train tracks and the zoo, with the tank station, and the dog.?Everything mommy builds, the boys tear down. Because that is the fun of the game.

I get up in a huff when they destroy my jungle, and sit down at the kitchen table with my cup of tea, laughing at myself. Duplos are for children.?Then why do they put the pictures on the boxes, of how you are supposed to build the zoo and the house? It kills me. The green block on top of the blue one, the box .?My boys don’t agree; It looks better when you put the blue on the orange and the green looks great when you throw it at the window.

I feel obligated to take them outside for some fresh air so we bundle up and go feed the chickens. It could be a relaxing walk outside, but it becomes an obstacle path. Tell Abel to hold the bowl of leftover food carefully, remind him not to eat the old bread covered in week old pasta sauce. Yank Gabri?l away from the dirt with the pretty pink worm wriggling in it. Tell them to get off the landlord’s patch of perfectly weeded garden. Explain to them why they must not pick up chicken poop.

Throw the food over the fence, run back inside, take coats of, clean hands and put on a movie.
So much for not letting them watch movies today.

We are now 1 hour and 57 minutes into our day.

Guilt creeps in. A good mother does not let her children watch movies at 10 in the morning, does she?

Somehow, in the middle of the chaos, peace does creep in, slowly and softly. It was a good morning. The train went around and around the track, and the bridge we built was the delight of Abel’s brown little eyes.

It’s ok that the walk outside was not to be as idylic as it was in my imaginings. It’s ok that it was more real. The wind in our faces, blowing the cobwebs away. Gabri?l’s little mouth smiling wide at the chickens. Bright eyes, hawklike, looking for something to grab, something to explore. The dirt and the worms if need be: the world is a delightful place.

Now? Two little duffers, with a blanket and a bottle of milk, watching Curious George, laughing at his antics. Already getting ready to try them out themselves.

There’s joy in today and there is wonder?that is a child. Jesus saw it, too. He redeems the messy parts and makes them into pure beauty, because His patience is all in it. Making it possible to give and get forgiveness through the sorry’s. Growing us all slowly, smiling at us as we grasp His hand and go on trying.