MULCH FLIES, BERRIES ROLL
Happy Jonathan, happy day! Jonathan watches contentedly from our front deck as Nick, Matthew and I envision, plant and transplant in my flower garden. Springtime, birthday delight! And then – enough! Grinning rakishly, Jonathan creeps over the deck railing to join the action. And what a time he has. Crowing a delighted “Eeee!” Jonathan revels in the rough texture of shredded pine bark against wiggling toes and wriggling fingers, mulch rubbed onto the driveway, tossed skyward to drift back down. He’s safe – we’re right across the driveway planting. And as Matthew sagely observes, we can sweep the mulch back into the bed. Glorious freedom. Glorious sunshine. The picture says it all.
Other days, perhaps just a bit more trying. Call it serial food-snatching. A new kitchen set up lulls us into complacency. (He’s not getting into the cupboards!) Meanwhile, Jonathan bides his time, coolly noting the location of his favorite foods. Uses his peripheral vision—the perfect ruse for the easily duped Mom and Dad. At the opportune moment of parental inattention, he swoops in with a multi-pronged offensive. Start with sticky rice from the refrigerator. Grab a handful from the container and walk around the kitchen/dining room/living room loop, trailing rice as you go. Too sticky for the usual “you have to clean up the mess you made,” so this one’s on Mom. Not so the Cheerios that follow close behind. Smashed nicely, the young man will use the cordless vacuum with lots of hand over hand help to repair the damage. At least most of it. Mom finishes up only to hear behind her a cackle of delight. And blueberries are flying, rolling under every cabinet, into every nook and cranny. Just as I’ve almost lost it….
Let me back up a minute. We’re about 3 or 4 weeks into the stay at home, no school Covid-19 order. The relentless nature of Jonathan care is beginning to wear me down. Ok, let’s be honest – I’m exhausted, and my patience and joy are waning. More out of duty than inspiration, I’m re-reading through the Messiah section of Immerse (a great community read-through-the Bible-plan). On a good day, that means a page or two, so I whisper a quick prayer. “Lord, please speak to me – I’ve only got ‘til the end of Jonathan’s oatmeal.” I notice Jesus’ answers to the Pharisees, who are trying to trip him up. Something in the passage mentions his wisdom, and I think, “Wisdom, I could use that.” Another quick, desperate prayer. “Jesus, I need your wisdom today.” Just like that. Nothing fancy.
So back to the kitchen. Just as I’m about to translate Jonathan’ smile to smirk, read impish motivation into his glee, just as I’m about to boil over and go down the “I just can’t do this” path, the driveway scene flashes back like an instant replay. In my mind, I watch Jonathan’s total abandonment to the glories of flying mulch. And I get it--these blueberries--watching things fly, crash, rattle and roll--it’s one of Jonathan’s chief sensory delights. And that cackle? In a second, a different perspective (oh yeah, the wisdom I asked for) transforms rising blood pressure to a chuckle. No, he can’t throw anything he pleases, but I can look for other ways to meet Jonathan’s sensory needs.
t’s a small victory, but as I listen to this morning’s sermon (Thanks, Shoreline Community Church https://www.shorelinecc.com/—Thanks, Pastors Dwayne and Stephanie), I’m reminded that with Jesus as my foundation, I can avoid the emotional roller coaster of reacting to good days and bad days. Through the lens of God’s Word and the guidance of the Holy Spirit, I am anchored into His strength, His love, His perspective. Just as my garden’s colors and textures fill me with fresh anticipation and wonder every spring, I can count on a fresh unfolding of God’s glory and grace in Jonathan. Jonathan, God’s gift.
On Christ the Solid Rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand. All other ground is sinking sand.