Right Now.

 I now have long days now with almost zero commitments or responsibilities other than basic housewife stuff. And that’s kind of hard for me. I worry about being alone. I worry about being a useless member of my community. I worry about being so wrapped up in my nothing life that I won’t notice that there are other people in this world. So I did what I’ve done before. I asked God to send me some kids who needed me. It was almost an accidental thing, not something I spent any time contemplating, and  then, after I whispered those words, I wondered if I would regret them. I’ve asked God to send me children before, and they haven’t always been who I’d imagined them to be. Once when I did that, I ended up becoming a school teacher at an independent school in rural rural rural rural Saskatchewan, which, honestly, was not a plan I had ever envisioned for my life, although I did end up rather loving it. And now I did it again.  

And just like that, four little girls came knocking on my door. Actually, I really wasn’t expecting that to happen, and certainly not so soon; I really am so faithless. And this time, its been exactly what I wanted. So far. Also, I guess there was one other child-who-is-not-a-child scenario that was probably also a result of my wanting to be useful: my mil ask me to  accompany my 19yo brother-in-law (who is struggling with living with both diabetes and fads, a combination no kid should ever have to deal with) to a doctor appointment one day. Which wasn’t exactly what I wanted. Much less glamorous and fun than a group of little girls. But that’s not what I was focusing on. And that was only one day. Back to the little girls. 

These girls have been at my house often before. Last fall and winter they’d run out to give me a hug or a high five as I walked home from school, but they didn’t come over a lot then becos, after dealing with a room full of kiddies all day, I really didn’t have enough mental or emotional energy left for them. In spring, when their school abruptly shut down, they spent some afternoons in my backyard social distance gardening with me. Two of these girls went away for the summer, but the other two brought their baby brother to see me, and one of them liked to put this little brother in a stroller and accompany me on my daily walk. But they never came that often, and becos the weather was nice they would soon be off to another adventure in another deserted part of this town. 

But now these girls have come and found me again. Every day after school. ‘We came to see you,’ they say and smile sweetly at me when I open my door. 

They are fascinated by whatever project I am working on. They fell in love with the apple juice I was working on making several afternoons. 

Yesterday they admired the scrunchies I had just made. I had a different plan for those, but their admiration made me change my mind, and I gave them each a pink velvet scrunchie. Coincidentally (or not?) I had made the exact right amount -one for each of them. 

Today they returned and told me their friends at school had admired their scrunchies and couldn’t believe they were homemade.  T also had something else to tell me: ‘I just feel very special to have gotten this from [you],’ she said. ‘I feel like this is from God, that He gave this to me from you.’ That’s when I made the connection of my request for kids to love and those daily knocks on my front door.  

They asked me a couple times to help them make more scrunchies, so I introduced the older two to my sewing machine. They were so proud of their handiwork and couldn’t wait to show it to BTT when he got home. 

These girls often come hungry. ‘Do I feed them every day?’ I asked my husband, secretly hoping he’d tell me I didn’t have to. I’m selfish. I don’t really want to make them sandwiches or slice them cheese every day. Or let them spend half an hour stirring sugar into their own bowl of freshly made applesauce and taste testing about 100 times until they get it perfected. Or watch them eat all my ripe tomatoes before I get a chance to use them and then cut the last big beautiful red tomato into fourths so they all get a piece. His response was, ‘If that’s what they need, then do it.’ So I have. 

‘You’re like a mom,’ they said to me one day. ‘You know how to take care of kids.’ Sadly, it appears like their actual moms don’t always know how to take care of them. ‘I like it here,’ another one said; ‘it’s feels like a happy place. I feel like I could live here.’

  

This last week I’ve wished I could just have one quiet supper with my husband. (That wish actually came true today, Friday. The girls left early.) I’ve wanted to hoard my precious apple juice I worked so hard for instead of pouring out jars-full into blue plastic cups. I’ve wondered when the last time the hand snitching ham and cheese from my cutting board was washed properly. I’ve sighed as the supper I had made for BTT and me disappeared into 4 little girls’ mouths in a couple minutes and I had to make another supper. I’ve crawled on hands and knees to collect each piece of my precious LEGO-from-Sapphire-and-Rosie when the girls had to leave in a hurry and didn’t get it cleaned up. 

Being a servant isn’t always fun. Loving and caring for kids even just for an hour or two in the evening isn’t always fun. But when they ask for a hug before they leave my heart is happy. 

This is what my mother says in reference to needy children or needy people that come into her life: Right now they need me. Maybe they won’t next year or next month or even next week. But now they do. And if I can be there for them, I will. 

I sometimes dread that daily knock, but I know this is not forever. Right now they need me -to feed them, share my precious LEGOs with them, give them a safe and happy place to escape for an hour or two, listen to their school stories, to their life stories, to their stories about their tumultuous families, basically just to love them. And if I can do even one of those things for a sad or hurting child, I will.