Thursday, September 06, 2007
My kids are in the next room, fighting over an ugly red polyester purse. The purse, of an unknown origin, is an Asian-style. My daughter filled it with treasures -- a plastic lei from my birthday party, an alligator doll, a sparkly yellow bouncy ball. My son is impressed with the collection she put together -- such panache -- so he runs down the hall with the intent of keeping these goodies to himself.
A frozen lasagna warms in the oven. I can hear the dog whining in the laundry room. My husband should be home within the hour. We will gather around the table as a family. Maybe the kids will play in the yard after dinner; maybe they will watch a recorded Mickey Mouse cartoon. My son will stall over his plate, while my daughter will eat quickly. I can imagine the scene because I know their patterns so well.
Sometimes, after a day of 'pastoral care', it is hard to bear the mundane activities in my house. Because I know that across town, things are so precarious. Because I know that a family or two balances on the precipice of oblivion. Because my business card and an offer to help and a few words of prayer can only do so much.
Simon Peter answers the question, "Do you love me?" by assuring Christ, "Yes, Lord, you know that I love you." Tend my lambs, feed my sheep.
Dora the Explorer uses a purple, singing map to find her way across the spooky forest. Mickey Mouse has 'mousekatools'. That doofus on Blue's Clues uses a handy-dandy notebook. Must be nice...