Then Sings My Soul

Sometimes I forget that my children are experiencing

our home as part of their childhood.  

I forget that they aren't living here as a parent, like I am. 

They are children, growing up here, without the 

cares of all that is involved in making a house a home, 

My childhood memories of the home I grew up in

are somewhat magical.

Ours wasn't a large house but it was my home.

I felt like I knew every inch of every room.

It wasn't my responsibility to prepare the meals,

or do the grocery shopping,

pay the bills

or raise my siblings. 

I was a child.  

Dependent on my parents for everything.

They provided me with a comfortable and safe place to live and grow up.

I was a helper.

My parents would give me little jobs around the house to help me learn about being responsible.

But my days were filled with dreams and pretending,

music,

playing,

eating,

 and more music.

When I become frustrated that our house

 is cluttered and dusty

and in constant need of organizing and cleaning,

I can lose sight of the joy of living in this home.

I forget what my children are experiencing by living here.

I forget how magical and vivid are 

the smells and sounds, 

the hugs and laughter,

the feelings of safety,

the sense of belonging,

and the daily routine 

to a child.

Recently, as I was puttering around in the kitchen,

somewhere between breakfast dishes and preparing lunch,

I heard the most glorious sound coming from the living room where two

of my children were busily involved in school.

Singing.  

First one and then the other joined in.  Spontaneous and beautiful.  

They weren't singing the same song,

but they were both singing in their classical/operatic voices.  

I couldn't help but burst into song, as well.  

Fortunately, this is a rather common occurrence in our home. 

I love it. 

It tells me that my children are happy and comfortable.

That even while doing something they might rather not be doing, such as school,

there was still joy in their hearts

This home is a completely different experience for my children 

than it is for me.  It's supposed to be that way.

They are still in the childhood days of

needing to be cared for,

passing the time with their minds filled with day dreams,

plans and pretending.

It is my responsibility, and my joy, to be their mother and the

keeper of our home.  

They are dependent on my husband and I to provide a safe and comfortable 

place for them as they grow up.  

I want to be less frustrated by the clutter and dust and more cognizant of the environment 

my children are exposed to here in their home.

This is where memories are being made.  Here is where their lives are taking shape.

It is my desire that our children enjoy their childhood home, exploring every inch... 

and that there be music,

                                                      and playing,

                                                            dreaming,

                                                                 and learning,

                                                                      creativity

                                                                            and more music...

a spontaneous singing that flows from their hearts unrehearsed and unprepared.*

Psalm 66:2

"Sing the glory of his name; make his praise glorious!"

"tehillah" praise