English is a sloppy language.
For instance:
I love God.
I love my husband.
I love chocolate cake.
Or consider:
The stars shine.
My countertops shine.
The glory of God shines.
My head aches when I think of this one:
The ocean contains an awesome amount of water.
God is an awesome God.
My six year-old’s bike is awesome.
The question that begs to be answered is how to express the great depth of my love and the awesomeness of God to my children when we use all the best words for chocolate cake, countertops, and bikes?
Ah, Lewis Carroll explains it so well in Alice in Wonderland:
“Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?” said the March Hare.
“Exactly so,” said Alice.
“Then you should say what you mean,” the March Hare went on.
“I do,” Alice hastily replied; “at least–at least I mean what I say–that’s the same thing, you know.”
“Not the same thing a bit!” said the Hatter.
Like Alice, I need to learn to say what I mean and mean what I say- especially with my children. I am here in Wonderland, loving chocolate and Mr. Fantastic and God, all of whom I also find awesome and shiny in their own particular way.
It will take a longer conversation, with a lot more words and actions for my little people to hear my heart’s message behind my casual commentary.
When “I love you,” means “I will smile and not get mad when you spill your milk at dinner,” they will know my love.
When “I love God,” means “I read and obey the Bible, seek God’s presence, and talk of Him often,” they will hear my devotion to the Almighty.
When “You did a great job!” means “I will be on time to your baseball game and talk about it with you afterward,” they will feel my joy.
When “I’m your mom,” means “You can talk to me about anything, and I will listen, no matter what,” they will trust my counsel.
When “I am on your side,” means “I see your weakness (we all have them!) and I will help when you ask me,” they will be glad I am with them.
And when they say, “I won’t do what you say!“, they may not mean that exactly. Just like our haphazardly formed syntax, children’s words aren’t always spoken with precision.
English may be sloppy, but love can clean up the mess with intentional involvement in our children’s lives. We will have to turn off the TV, ignore our phones, and put aside pressing work so that we can all hear one another clearly.
I need to listen to my children and they need to listen to me. Our words and actions wrap up our hearts, cleverly holding the gift of our time and attention.
The Wonderland of our relationships can be understood, deconstructed, and organized. That’s when the trip down the rabbit hole of life becomes a journey of joy.
And when I say joy, I mean joy.
