Dinosaur Bones and Gratitude
I took the kids to a museum this week to see dinosaur bones. I've been promising to take them to this museum since last summer, so...it was about time. We did have great fun. Especially Twinkle who discovered that if she yelled loud enough, I'd take her out of the ergo and let her run around like a big kid. I got a lot of exercise saving her life and the lives of various innocent museum artifacts. We also discovered that Bruiser has no shame about reaching over the dividers so that he can touch the actual T-Rex. Anyway, the kids got to look at dinosaur bones and pretend to be paleontologists and learn more about Texas history, and I got to feel like a good mom. Win, win.
However, as we were leaving, one of my children (who shall remain unnamed) started whining about how he didn't want to leave yet (I realize that pronoun usage gives away that the whiner was neither Bee nor Twinkle, but you probably could've guessed that anyway as both of my daughters are paragons of virtue...and one of them doesn't talk yet). I pointed out, in my most loving and patient mom voice, that his baby sister was heading into meltdown mode, one of his brothers had reached his limit on over stimulation, it was closing in on dinner time, and we were about to hit rush hour traffic going home (we did hit rush hour traffic--these things seem preordained). He gave in with less grace than I appreciated.
Then as we got to the car, a different child told me cheerfully (and without any prompting) how much he enjoyed our time at the museum and thanked me for taking them. Be still, my beating heart. Take a guess which response made me happier. And which kid was happier in the moment, which may be the more pertinent point.
As we drove home (and got stuck in rush hour traffic), the contrast between my children's responses stuck in my brain. They'd both enjoyed the museum, but one had responded in gratitude and the other with complaint. It made me think about how I'm responding to our upcoming move. Am I saying, with a slightly more adult version of whining, "But God, I don't want to go! I'm not ready yet!" Or am I taking the opportunity to express gratitude for the amazing time we've had here and thanking him in advance for what's coming next, knowing that, if he can provide so much good here (and the last place we lived, and the place before that, etc.), then I can rest--knowing that he will give just as much, if not more, at the next place.
We can't always control our circumstances, but we can always make the choice to believe that we have a good Father orchestrating events that will bring about growth, goodness, and joy (even when they come with discomfort and occasionally pain). So this week I'm giving thanks for a good two years here--for good friends, a wonderful church, a great neighborhood, librarians who've helped stuff our book bags, football teams for the boys, a great preschool for the twins, and so much more--while looking ahead knowing that God has good at the next stop too.
However, as we were leaving, one of my children (who shall remain unnamed) started whining about how he didn't want to leave yet (I realize that pronoun usage gives away that the whiner was neither Bee nor Twinkle, but you probably could've guessed that anyway as both of my daughters are paragons of virtue...and one of them doesn't talk yet). I pointed out, in my most loving and patient mom voice, that his baby sister was heading into meltdown mode, one of his brothers had reached his limit on over stimulation, it was closing in on dinner time, and we were about to hit rush hour traffic going home (we did hit rush hour traffic--these things seem preordained). He gave in with less grace than I appreciated.
We can't always control our circumstances, but we can always make the choice to believe that we have a good Father orchestrating events that will bring about growth, goodness, and joy (even when they come with discomfort and occasionally pain). So this week I'm giving thanks for a good two years here--for good friends, a wonderful church, a great neighborhood, librarians who've helped stuff our book bags, football teams for the boys, a great preschool for the twins, and so much more--while looking ahead knowing that God has good at the next stop too.
