Wednesday, April 13, 2011

A Moment of Quiet

This morning, after getting Mackenzie up and off to school, then getting Daniel and Markos up, dressed, and fed, I sat at the computer to flip through the various blogs that I follow.  It was an especially loud morning for Markos (and that's saying something because that boy is LOUD all.the.time!)  It really grates on my nerves sometimes.  Actually, who am I kidding?  Most of the time! 

Anyway, I was enjoying a few moments of quiet reading on the computer until Markos came upstairs and began to screech and yell while playing right next to me on the floor.  I kept asking him to be quiet, but that seemed to just make him screech more.  While I attempted to quiet the deafening play, I was reading a heart-wrenching post by Linny at A Place Called Simplicity.  She is in Uganda right now and was posting about an encounter that she had.  Read it here.

Markos continued to yell at my side as tears began to roll down my cheeks.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him notice that I was crying.  He immediately got quiet and began to come closer and closer to my side, his eyes fixed on my face.  I tried, but failed, to stop the tears because I knew that he was concerned.   Then, in the softest, sweetest voice, he whispered, "Mommy, poor."  I picked him up and sat him on my lap facing me.  He looked into my eyes and again said, "Mommy, poor."  He wrapped both arms around my neck and hugged me as tightly as he could,with his head snuggled against my cheek, continuing to whisper, "Mommy, poor; Mommy, poor."

When Markos gets hurt, he rarely cries and if he does, it's only for a very short time.  I want him to learn that it's ok to cry, and now that he has a family, when he does, someone will notice and will respond.  So I frequently scoop him up when I see him fall or bonk his head, snuggle him close, and in an exaggerated, sing-songy voice say, "awww, poor Markos....poor Markos".  

Now, he was attempting to comfort me in that same way, but he had the words just a little mixed up.  I wiped my tears and assured him that Mommy was ok, that I had just read something sad, but I was ok.  He quietly held me anyway and continued to whisper "Mommy, poor".

No, my sweet boy, Mommy is not poor.  She is rich!  Blessed beyond belief to have been allowed to participate in God's Kingdom and bring you into our families' lives!

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