Big Cats and Cold Feet in the Moonlight

Last night, for Family Home Evening, we donned our winter coats and jumped on the trampoline.  My children taught me how to butt slam.  We lay back and looked at the moon.  And the stars.  Our feet grew cold.  We were ready to wind down when someone suggested some Animal Fighting.  I'd never heard of Animal Fighting.  It's a game Mary invented when she was six--six years ago.  For the next twenty minutes, I sat beside Jared on the edge of the tramp and watched in amazement.  Those children became panthers (or maybe tigers).  I could almost see muscles rippling under black fur as they leapt at one another growling.  Hannah snuggled next to me and in occasional comments, explained the game.

"They need to bite each other on the neck to get a point."

"Right now, they're playing for three points."

"Oh!  Jonah's not supposed to do that.  Standing up is against the rules."

"They don't actually bite, they just do this (her mouth opens wide in a snarl and she creates a something between a hiss and a growl).  That counts."

"Jonah has a really good leap.  Beth's is silly (she says this giggling), she looks like a frog, but she does go higher."

Mary gets two points on Jonah quickly.  Her legs are longer, which in this game is a huge advantage.  She offers to "make things interesting" by giving him two free points, "So, the next point wins."  He gets her and she shakes his hand and congratulates him before moving on to Beth.  Their match lasts longer, maybe because they keep pausing for Daniel.  He wants to be part of things and Mary lets him pounce on her with his extended claws and cute little growl.  Each time, he returns to my lap crowing jubilantly, "I did it!  I did it!  Your turn, Mama?"

Sitting there in my moonlit backyard, surrounded by the laughter of independent, interesting people, I felt deep happiness.  They had welcomed me into their rich, secret world and it was beautiful.

Balanced

On Monday, we had our Family Home Evening in the bush.  We carried empty yogurt containers and bug spray and tromped into the woods in search of blueberries.  It was beautiful.  I slowly filled my pail and watched the six fascinating people around me, "Look what I found," "Where are the raspberries," "How many do you have," "I spilled mine...again," "Here, you can have some of these."  I felt so full.  As time wore on, it seemed like a lot of walking for Daniel's small legs, but any time we offered cue, which is his easy, dear way of saying carry you, he refused.  He happily wandered among his favourite people.  He didn't want to miss a thing.  I understood that completely.

The next morning, I woke up early to a quiet house.  Everybody was still sleeping when I started the pancakes, honey and whole wheat and blueberries.  I savoured the silence and the taste of honey on my tongue, as I licked the spoon.  Still they slept.  So I started a yoga practice, there in my pajamas in an empty living room.  I breathed deeply and marvelled at my own strength, happy to feel my legs, and arms and lungs.  As I finished up, I thought to myself "Solitude is good too."

An Adventure in Family Togetherness

My church encourages its members to hold something called Family Home Evening.  It's a night set aside each week to have fun as a family while learning principles taught by Christ.  Sometimes putting this thing together is frustrating even (especially) with everyone helping.  This week Mary conducted the meeting.  Jonah really wanted sing Space Unicorn for the opening hymn but was persuaded to choose something from the Children's Songbook.  Two-year-old Daniel was too busy playing (biting his sister and throwing books) to give an opening prayer, so I offered it instead.  For the lesson, Hannah, who's almost five, decided to sing a song she wrote.  It rhymed.  It was pretty rad...even though we all had to close our eyes and promise not to peek before she would perform in front of us.  I added a sentence about following Hannah's example of finding the courage to develop her talents and decided this totally counts.  Then we cracked open the refreshments Beth made.  They were not the cupcakes she wanted to bake.  It was a busy day.  I only had time to help her make this ice cream jello thing which everyone (except me--I love ice cream jello things) pretended to eat while we watched a short TED talk about the amazing life forms being found in the deepest parts of the ocean.  I think it was an interesting video, but all I could hear was, "Wow! That's so cool!" "I can't see!" "Shhhhh!" "He's squishing me!" "What's a tube worm?" "This dessert is disgusting!" "You smell bad!" "She spilled her jello on me!"  Jonah led us in singing a closing hymn, Jared shut the whole thing down with a prayer, and we dispersed. 

Our thirty minute get-together included biting, jostling, and shushing.  We closed our eyes for the first half and picked at a slimy treat for the second.  This is a pretty typical Family Home Evening for us.  So why do my children love this night with their whole hearts?