Glory

In our church, the kids learn the catechism:

Q: Who made you? A: God
Q: What else did God make? A: All things
Q: Why did God make you and all things? A: For His own glory
etc.
etc.

I'm supposed to reinforce these questions and answers at home but never seem to get around to it. But apparently, Robert has been paying some attention.

The other day, we were looking at a picture in a Richard Scarry book of a mouse parachuting out of a plane. "What's dat mouse doing?" Robert asked. He pointed at the plane. "He needs dat...for his own glory."

This morning he walked in the bathroom and said, "Can I tee-tee on the potty? For my own glory." I don't know if it's glorious, Bud. It's just natural.

Robert's Free

When friends of mine learn they're having a boy, I always tell them something like, "Oh, you can't even imagine how much you're going to love him. There's nothing like a boy." I can't totally explain the statement, but this picture offers some kind of explanation. Robert adds so much flavor and fun and excitement and chaos to our family; he's rough, tough, snugly, tender, dirty, sweaty, sweet, stubborn, strong. The moment I want to wring his neck for tackling sissy or messing her things up for the umpteenth time, I see him stroking her hair and saying, "Sissy, are you okay?" At the end of long days full of tantrums and stand-offs, his silly faces, dance moves, or guitar kicks kill us with laughter. His propensity to talk about killing, fighting, and potty subjects is balanced by how often he says, "I wanna tell you a secret...I LOVE YOU." In a nutshell, he makes me crazy, and he brings me immeasurable joy.

I've been thinking about how unique he is lately, because he's three today, and because we've had some hard days with him in the past two weeks. After two really hard days with him, followed by two great days, the realization hit me again, as it has in the past, that I love my children more when they're lovable, and lovely. This knowledge hurts deeply, because I've understood more and more in the past few years how much I'm loved by my Father, though I'm so pitifully unworthy of His love. He pours it out on me no matter what, as much on the yuck days as on the days I think I'm great. I love my children most when they're easiest to love. Thank God He's their Father, too, and my shortcomings in love and mothering can never diminish the love they will experience from the ultimate Parent.

This morning, we sang Happy Birthday to him many times. He kept saying, "I'm free. I'm free." Sissy's response - "He keeps saying, "I'm free. Robert, can you say th- th-three?" No answer. He had a family party at Camp on Saturday, a family party at our house on Sunday, and got to take doughnuts to school this morning for one last bit of party-ing. Sissy had had enough of Robert's birthday by today. She cried when we picked up his doughnuts ("I NEVER get to have doughnuts!"...a regular Saturday ritual with her daddy) and has been super-emotional all day. My thought was that next year, we should just have one day of birthday for Robert. Janny insisted that, no, next year we should have three days of birthday for Millie. Once again, the winner for favorite gift: orange tic-tacs.

Happy Birthday, little Bud.