A week has passed since THE NIGHTMARE. I have done my best to keep busy, busy, busy...too busy to let the past have purchase in my thoughts. I stayed at the ranch this weekend to watch the children. Red and Blake went on a business trip to Portland.
It was pure joy to awaken in the morning and race into the boys rooms. I stood to watch the sleep slowly creep from their eyes. I then awaken them fully with hugs and tickles. The awakening process quickly turns into full scale battle. Pillows are flung and bashed about. Finally, finally, after much rejoicing and enjoying, I encourage the boys to wash up, and get dressed.
I take my own advice and dress for the day. Next I race to the kitchen. I relish the simply tasks of morning. I make coffee for me, and hot cocoa for the boys. I made a Quiche last night. I start a fire in the stove. The Quiche simply needs to be warmed in the oven. It is filled with the most luscious things, bacon, ham, eggs, cheese, and some asparagus that I grew in my very own garden.
In the midst of this joy I could hear Mama's voice in my head telling me to pray. Softly I say out loud, "I'm sorry to disappoint you Mama but I can't. I still believe that God is either a hateful being, who rains down pain and destruction on whoever he randomly wishes. At the very least God is high in his Heavens where he simply does not care about the small tragedies of the earth below."
Pushing those negative ideas aside I call out to the boys, "Breakfast!"
I can't believe how quickly their small legs can move. Soon they join me in the kitchen. I don't even have to ask them to set the table. They quickly, quietly go about this routine morning task.
When the table is set and the food steaming in front of us I say, "Well, dig in boys."
Eric's rich brown eyes look at me with shock. "Maman, we can't eat without thanking God!"
In my head I counted to five slowly. It is never my desire to cause these beloved boys to harbor MY bitter thoughts. I counted to five to slow down my tongue that wished to rattle and prattle about God and his cruel ways.
When I knew that I was calm and in control of myself I said, "Eric, I'm sorry. Maman DID forget. Would you say grace?" I figured that my little lie was better than the truth in this case. I hadn't forgotten. I hoped that the boys would forget.
Every time that I hear a prayer it feels as though a tight little twist happens somewhere in the vicinity of my heart. God allowed my entire family to die. I was alone, and God allowed Madame Le Rouge to inflict evil on me. I don't know if I can ever let myself feel vulnerable to God again!
Yet I felt a tender warmth as Eric, with his childish voice said, "Oh Father in Heaven, it's a new day. Please come with us in this day. Please let Maman know that we love her. Thank thee Lord for sending us a new Maman. Oh, and bless this yummy food that Maman made for us. We pray in Jesus name, Amen."
Jamie and I said, "Amen," at the same moment and then smiled at each other across the table.
I write this after the boys have gone to sleep for the night. They were busy, busy, busy boys today. Mostly I ran after them, and with them. We went on a picnic. There is a beautiful meadow not far from the the ranch house. The weather was perfect. Jamie gave a beautiful prayer of grace over this meal.
I was humbled at the notion that Jamie, little, tiny Jamie could, and did pray. I had helped the boy's say their night time prayers many times. These prayers were different than their simple night time verses, "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, if I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take..." Then they would continue with, "God bless..."
I try to be a good Maman to these boys even though usually it is from a distance. At the same time I know that these boys give me much more than I ever give them.
I wish that I could pray. If I could I would pray for this beautiful family. What a gift they are in my life. I simply can no longer imagine life without each and every one of them. Even Red has a strong place in my heart. He is my brother. He does not take the place of the dear brother I lost, he is altogether a different brother.
Blake, oh I sigh as I write his name. He is not handsome as most would see him. His features are slightly rough, a tad uneven. His eyes are piercing. Honestly, when he gazes at me sometimes I feel that he can see into my soul and read my thoughts. That is most uncomfortable when my thoughts are, "I wish Blake could let go of the past and love me. Marry me." I don't want him to read THOSE thoughts.
Well, I needs must sleep. There are not many hours left in the night and I need my rest to enable me to keep up with my energetic, frenetic boys! Good night.
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