We have been on quite the Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood kick in these quarantine days. I'm talking every time the television is on (and it's on a lot, okay?), we're firing up PBS Kids and waiting for that happy stripey family to get all of our butts in gear where dealing with our emotions is concerned.
Watching the show has honestly proven beneficial in recent weeks. Foster can now usually tell us when he's mad or frustrated (there are other emotions the show talks about, but he usually sits comfortably in some variation of those two when he's not over-the-moon happy about life). We're learning--read: me. I am learning--how not to react to his less than desirable emotions and am instead figuring out how to calmly talk to him about them. Oh no, honey. Rest assured that doesn't happen a 100% of the time. But a desperate mom will take what she can get. CAN I GET A WITNESS??
One of his favorite stories (correct. our book selection has also been infiltrated by the Neighborhood of Make Believe obsession) is about Daniel's class at school watching an egg hatch that they've been babysitting for the local farm. Right there in their classroom! The kids are obviously bewildered at the phenomenon. They also groan about having to wait for the egg to hatch and learn how to do it in ways that won't drive Teacher Harriet up the wall or out the door. (I won't ever blame you if you walk away, Teacher Harriet. Not ever.)
Foster has yet to walk away from this story (any of the 73 times we've read it in the past seven weeks) with a nuanced understanding waiting and how to graciously do it. What he has seemed to cling to is
hatching.
Now, whenever his dad or I am behind closed doors (usually during our work shift), Foster's ears perk when he finally hears the sound of a door cracking open. We hear, "Mama hatching!" "Dada hatching!"
He's absolutely thrilled about it.
Like, hollers with excitement.
The child acts as though he has not seen us in two years or that there's going to be some newly acquired skill or positive attribute we'll be able to share with him as we emerge from what he equates with the "egg" in which we've been working or that when we push that door open we'll hand him armfuls of presents.
It occurs to me now, though, that he thinks WE are the present.
We are what (or who, in this case) he's been waiting on with great anticipation.
He knows when we appear from out of our "egg," we will be new in some ways--much like that newborn baby duck in the story he adores so much. We will have put the day's work behind us--at least until he goes to bed--and our undivided attention will be his. The ultimate dreams of most babes, I think.
Which got me thinking...
I wonder if God isn't continuously waiting for us to "hatch."
Endlessly waiting for us to set aside the things we deem so important in exchange for spending uninterrupted, undistracted time with our Parent who only loves us and longs to linger with us--in prayer, scripture, journaling, stillness, silence.
In what ways are you feeling the need to "hatch" in this season of life?
How are you finding or trying to find ways to spend uninterrupted, undistracted time with the One who breathed you into being? And how are those efforts renewing your being in a time that all but drains us?
Take heart. I'm not positive, but I'm fairly certain (thanks, Daniel Tiger) that hatching is an exceedingly gradual thing. The important thing is that we keep up the good work of trying to break out from the shell of ourselves. Mad love, dear ones.
Peace,
Pastor Mary Kate
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