So I was at the playground with a bunch of moms maybe a couple months ago, chatting and such, while Zuzu napped in the Boba.
Jen stylishly wearing Zuzu in the Boba...Florence.
Most of my married friends have 3+ kids...I can only think off-hand of two friends with one child, and neither of them are local. So their 6 years olds, 3 year olds, and one year olds (and everything in between) were all running around, a joyous mix of kiddos used to playing together. As everyone started to gather up kids and diaper bags and strollers to attend the noon Mass, one group of siblings in particular were playing a bit further away. (we'll call them the Jones kids) My friend saw the youngest Jones girl in particular wandering away, and told the older girls to get their sister - which they did, with gusto. But then got distracted and just started playing. With her best mom voice and her finger in the air, my friend looked up and yelled: "Jones girls!! Leeeets GO!"
It was obviously her I-mean-move-it voice because the three little girls turned and huffed it back to their white mini van, ready to head off to the next adventure. I watched it all with a bit of awe and amazement. To have a clan - a bunch of kids that know the score, that are part of your group, that form your little family - I wondered if my friend knew how much some people long for that, that simple cry: "Oram girls! Leeeets GO!"
Not doing too much running around...yet...
Not that I'm complaining that we only have one - babies come one at a time for a reason, and I am content to led God take charge of our family size, and he'll give us another when the time is right. I just wish I could tell my friends what an envious sight it is - how, although it must be so tiring and such a big job, it is one that is so incredible to watch. I know they see their kids fighting, three or four pairs of shoes to keep track of, another person to make demands on them - but what's also there is the joy of sibling love, more sweet toes to kiss, more little people who lisp the word "mama."
I told my mom this story and she sighed and said "mmhmm. If only they knew how their picture looked from the outside." That's exactly it. While we're living in our picture, I think we lose perspective. We forget that others might be looking in and thinking "what I wouldn't give for that!" We forget that our blessings can of course feel like burdens, but they're still blessings because they're making us holy.
This post doesn't have a grand lesson or a point; it's just to say that I hope we realize that our picture is being seen from the outside as much as felt from the inside. Sometimes what we're suffering through is a cross another person would gladly request.
Happy Easter from the Orams