"Let me see your eyes"

We could never be sure they were listening until faces turned and eyes lifted up. Eye to eye, face to face, important messages were delivered. A house full of children, pets and toys, laundry and chores, music and laughter, many distractions - some enticing, some necessary - prompted us to realize that we could not be sure that the child we were talking to was receiving our message unless we could see their eyes. We really should not hold a child to the consequences of disobedience unless we KNEW that the instruction had been received.

Be it encouragement for a difficult moment, a strong word of caution, or a fervent declaration of love, Phil and I constantly asked, "Let me see your eyes".

In turn, our children realized if they had something important to say, or to ask, they also needed to be sure our eyes were fully engaged - for where mama's eyes were so was her attention. They quickly learned that if I was doing two or three or more things at once, they were not likely to get answer from me.
"Turn your face", they would say, or they would reach out and turn it for me.

Thank you, sweet Jesus for the invitation to ask for Your full attention, Your eyes fully upon me and through me.  Let me turn away from all that distracts me, competes for my glances, to set my face fully upon You, to receive all that you offer in counsel, instruction, encouragement, affection.  Let me see You - provision, position, power -  and all that troubles me falls away.
For where my eyes are, so will I be.  

"The LORD bless you
and keep you;

the LORD make his face shine upon you
and be gracious to you;

the LORD turn his face toward you
and give you peace."

Numbers 6:23-26

"Do you remember when we used to . ." Or sometimes it is "What about the time that. . ."  I love those words.  When I hear them I know my children are about to start recalling memories of our household growing up together, four children with in four and a half years of each other in age.  One memory leads to another,  most of them very ordinary daily occurrences, habits, terms of endearment, and the sweetest feeling of "family" floods over us as we laugh, a sense of being connected and loved.  I know these moments are common to every family, shared experience in growing up under one roof together, I have them with my own family as does Phil.  Some of ours are recorded somewhere in one of my many journals, incomplete baby books, captions in photo albums, but I want to periodically record them here as well, in postings titled: "Do you remember. . . . "   just so we don't permanently forget the time . . . . . . .

I'll start with one of my favorite stories.  Let me set the stage:

We were living in Edmond OK just outside of OK City where Phil was doing his Emergency Medicine residency at OU.  Hannah was 3 and a half, Peter had just turned 2 and David was about 5 months old.  Peter had been playing all morning in the room that he and David shared, and David, who was lying on a blanket watching Peter, had fallen asleep.  I decided to grab a quick shower while David was sleeping, so I got Hannah and Peter settled in the living room watching "Elmo", within earshot of David if he woke up.  I left them with the following instructions, reiterating what they had been told many times before:  

"Ok guys, mama is going to take a really quick shower.  You two stay right here, do not go outside, do not open the door, do not answer the phone.  If you hear David cry, come tell me right away but do not pick him up, do not give him anything to eat or drink (as had been attempted before), just come tell me.  If you need me, come get me.  Thank you for doing a good job...."  and I left to take my much needed shower JUST down the hall with all doors open so that I knew I could probably hear David if he cried.  

 

My shower was uneventful (this time)  and, feeling much refreshed, I went in to check on David.  I had heard nothing so I expected to find him sleeping.  Instead, I found his blanket EMPTY.    PANIC.  SICK FEELING.

I rushed into the living room and saw Hannah and Peter watching Elmo, and low and behold, David lying on the floor beside Peter, happy as a lark.  I was not happy as a lark.  Relieved, yes, but definitely not happy.  

"Peter",  I said, "Why is David in the living room?"  

"He woke up and wanted to be with us."

"

Why did you not come tell me he was crying?"

"He's not crying, he's happy."

"Why did you pick him up when I told you not to?"

"I didn't."

Hannah, realizing someone was in trouble, started to cry.  I didn't think little Hannah, sensible and cautious, would pick up David, but those tears were making her look suspicious.  

"Hannah, did you bring David into the living room?"

"No Mama!,"  Hannah wailed, hurt that I would even ask.

Back to Peter, the obvious perpetrator.

"Peter, you need to tell the truth.  Even if you disobeyed Mama, the right thing to do now is to tell the truth, and there will be a lot less trouble.  Did you pick up David and bring him to the living room to be with you and Hannah ?"  I asked with GENEROUS calm.

"No Mama," was his confused reply, baffled at why I did not believe him.  Historically Peter was very truthful, very black and white.  I was completely frustrated by his obvious and 

uncharacteristic deceit.  

Giving him one last chance, I said, "Peter, I am going to ask you one more time, did you carry David into the living room?"  

Head shake no.

Louder, less generously calm, "PETER, you are not telling the truth.  If you didn't carry David into the living room, HOW DID HE GET IN HERE?"

"I wolled him", said Peter. 

 translation:  I rolled him.