Once a week (or more) I volunteer in my kids' classrooms. I don't get to interact with them 1:1 - instead it's mostly mundane, mind-numbing errands like copy papers, correct papers, sort papers...
You get the
But I love it. Because while
I go through these simple tasks in the back of the classroom, I get to watch my
children - up close and personal, like a fly on the wall. I get
to watch how they interact with their peers, their environment, their
social world outside of their home. Because for the most part, they forget
I'm there - or they think I'm too busy to be notice.
I notice if
paying attention to the lesson/teacher and how much of what he/she says
actually gets translated correctly when they get home. It's amazing to observe how they move in their most basic element
- witnessing them struggle with how to respond, how to calculate a move,
what to think of themselves when someone else makes a judgment that's not Mom or Dad.
incredibly enlightening experience.
And it makes
the love I have for my children explode - like a heavy pressure in my chest. It makes me love them THAT much more
for bravely shouldering an ever-increasing load that will take them further and
further away from me into their own independence. The heaviness
sometimes feels lonely.
Is this how God feels while watching me? Is His discerning
gaze aware of my struggles, my weaknesses and my tactless gibberish?
Does He know that sometimes I'm not listening when I should be? That
I should be kinder when I'm not? And that deep down I only
really want to come home?
The days I
volunteer are my kids' favorite day of the week because Mom is suddenly,
uncharacteristically sweeter than the other days. And she usually has
their favorite after-school snacks waiting when they get home.
figure out why.