Of Lizards and Seeds, and Naps

Expecting a few extra moments with Gracia, this being a Sunday, I found myself searching through my list of Pinterest and Instagram saves for toddler activities I could prepare for at 6.30am in the morning. 

In the end, how interesting it was that none of my fretful planning was needed. Before breakfast, we ended up on the sofa. Gracia asked for Eric Carle's A Foolish Tortoise so that's what we read, complete with dramatisation by whichever soft toy friends happened to be around! Then it was A Tiny Seed, with impromptu 'props' - nine shiny saga seeds which would all meet with incidents along the way preventing them from eventually taking root and germinating, and of course, one tiny green bean seed. Gracia got too excited about the seeds, and eventually a sharp admonishment about putting the seeds into her or my mouth sent her bursting into tears. End of read aloud. After breakfast, we practiced stamping using a single monarch butterfly stamp. 

All the way home from church and right until we entered the door, we sang It's a Great Thing to Praise the Lord because we sang it in Sunday School, and made it extra fun and theological by adding in our own variations in the chorus. Our favourite was this Nap, nap, nap, nap in the light... Then before afternoon nap, Gracia asked for Loved - which was an unusual but oddly coincidental choice, as we had just read the chapter on the Lord's Prayer that morning from The Jesus Storybook Bible. It was then that I realised that the words used by Sally Lloyd Jones in Loved were the exact words used there! 

After her afternoon nap, I had planned that we could paint the giant tree from A Tiny Seed, but instead, as Tim was setting up the air purifier, that became Gracia's post-nap activity - watching the set-up. She was fascinated by how the air blew our faces and hair when we went closet, so on the spur of the moment again, I went and got multi-coloured ribbons and taped them to the vents so we could watch them fly. I saw a feather lying around so brought that out too. How much fun she had with the feather! She loved watching it sometimes float up high after being caught on the wind, and of course trying to let it land on her hand. So I went to bring out more feathers. And somehow, the next feather became a lizard in her imagination and so we played catching lizards with more multi-coloured feathers. We even got a makeshift "dustbin" in which to throw the caught lizards... It was more fun than anything I could have planned. 

Don't I have much to learn about taking my sabbath rest?

Stop

I think it was just before Gracia turned 2 when this happened. She came down with a high fever, and was not her usual self. I tried to cheer my little bunny up by singing one of her favourite songs, one which has never been met with anything less than bouncy enthusiasm. But instead of breaking into a smile, Gracia put up a hand, like a traffic policeman, and said stop. I tried a different song, but still it was not welcomed. I thought it interesting that she had not instead simply turned away, or ignored me. Had she done so, though, I'm quite sure I would have been a lot slower in understanding her cues. She would probably have had to endure through unwanted song after unwanted song.

It was an unexpected lesson for me, from a toddler, no less, of the need for a time to be silent. During that bout of illness, Gracia had probably appreciated my silent presence more than my silly songs - that was enough for her. And, it would probably what was needful for me too. After all, caring for a sick toddler is exhausting. Sitting and doing nothing would have given me a few extra moments of much-needed rest.

Now, she uses stop to cue me into exact stanzas of songs to sing.  She would point to whichever line she would like me to sing*, and say stop quite quickly if it were not the line or tune she was searching for, and promptly point to the next possible line. Usually, this happens when she is in the process of searching for a particularly catchy part of the song she likes, and wishes to listen to.

Stopping is often the most-needed thing. But I seem to be constantly needing or wanting to do that next thing - whether it be more housework, putting together yet another home-cooked meal, preparing more not-yet age-appropriate home learning activities, or even chasing after and capturing thoughts which nip at my line, only to leave, all too quickly. I ferret and fret, scamper and hardly stop - till I am stopped by sheer mental or physical exhaustion.

When Gracia says stop, I always do. How could I not, when it is said with such definiteness, and accompanied with that outstretched traffic policeman arm?

So let me be led by the intuitive wisdom of my child. Let me stop, long enough to rest - so that I will be able to love and serve from that place of rest; long enough to notice - to allow the precious moments to be written in the notebook of my inner being; long enough to listen - for the questions and wonderings of a curious little explorer - not to provide answers but to better understand; long enough to listen for His direction and re-direction on how exactly I should be spending these breath-long, fleeting days.

This makes me feel like one of those ipens that struggling readers use to help them read aloud unfamiliar words.

Amen

It would be no surprise if, to Gracia, even in her infant years, language  was punctuated with Amens. Prayers said before dinner end with Amen. Prayers said whenever we hear the cries of other babies always end with Amen. The pre-bedtime crafted prayers from the LullaBible all end with Amen. In church, Amen punctuates the worship liturgy. Then there is the long melodious Amen at the end of John Rutter's The Lord Bless You and Keep You, Gracia's bedtime song (until it got recently replaced by Jesus Loves Me). I reasoned that although babies are not yet able to articulate their own prayers (in language understandable to me, at least), they could at least agree in prayer (and who knows what's invisibly happening in their spirit?). In those early days, I was certainly not expecting Gracia to understand what she was saying. But I knew that it would not be long before she would.

Then one evening, I heard the first Ammm. Before long, it was Amah, then Amahm, then Amahn, and now Amen. Those earlier days, I remember how Gracia loved to practice her new-found skill and understanding that Ammm / Amahm was something to be said at the end of sentences uttered with clasped hands, eyes closed, which began with Dear Jesus and come after In Jesus' name. Her enthusiasm actually motivated me to pray. I had found in my one+ year old a prayer partner! 

Our pre-dinner prayers were simple and repetitive, and functioned well as a prayer frame for my little language-learner. They went something along these lines:

Dear Jesus, thank you for this food. Please help Gracia eat it well. Please bring Papa back home safely. In Jesus name, Amen. 

Gracia has always been a very curious listener, attending to all the interesting sounds we hear in our HDB estate. Often, we would hear babies crying. She would look at me intently with her big eyes, questioning. I remember trying to explain the plausible situation to her - Oh, baby is crying maybe because baby is hungry, or baby fell down, and is pain pain, or baby needs to change diaper. Let's pray for baby. 

Dear Jesus, please help baby not be pain pain, and stop crying. In Jesus name, Amen. 

We'd also pray over each bump or scratch Gracia had along the way - no matter how minor. We'd pray whenever Papa or Mama coughed. Basically, whenever anything was amiss with people.

Sometime along the way, she started to say pray. She began to understand prayer as a response to any situation where something is not quite right, and would ask me to pray:

Pray baby not pain pain. Pray mama ahhuhuhuhuh (coughing sound). 

Then there is Uncle Dan. Uncle Dan is our next-door neighbour, to whom Gracia has taken a fancy (quite from the time she was first introduced to him). Or rather, she has taken a fancy to his name. I can't quite remember how it started, but my little prayer partner constantly asks to pray for him. He isn't a Christian, so I take that as an opportunity to pray for his family's salvation each time.

Closer to two, she started voicing prayers of her own. There was the time when we were cooking a salted egg and minced pork dish for dinner, and cracked open rotten egg upon rotten egg. After two rotten eggs, we prayed that God would give us an egg that hadn't turned bad. I remember Gracia clasping her hands just as I was going to crack open the last egg, and pray one of her first Dear Jesus prayers. Well, all the eggs were bad. And so we went downstairs to the provision shop to buy one, and that was how God answered one of the first prayers of an almost two year old. With a no, but. Well, how about that? A response questioned to no end by overthinking adults, accepted as a matter of fact by a child.

Then there were all the seemingly random jibber jabber ramblings along the way. I remember her starting a prayer with Dear Jesus, just while chattering at the dining table during dinners, with hands clasped and eyes closed, and a little smile, followed by a few sentences indecipherable mumblings, followed by opening her eyes, with a decisive Amen. That must surely be how my prayers sound like to her sometimes!

 Now, at 25 months, thank you Jesus has entered her speaking vocabulary. I've heard her say thank you Jesus when Papa enters through the door halfway through dinner, after we prayed that he'd be back soon a moment ago. 

Now, Amen is not just her response to my uttered prayers. Soon, may it be mine, in response to hers.