There are so many exasperating moments when I think I'm raising a pack of wolves, that I was delighted to near tears for the Norman Rockwell scene upon which I stumbled today.
I had to step away to soothe back to sleep the baby and instead of returning to screaming, weeping, fighting, or something having been broken, all was quiet. I wasn't even sure where the children were. I noticed the den door closed and opened it to find a silent room . . .
The three-year-old was playing Mass and the five- and seven-year-olds were reading holy books. I double-checked and confirmed that these precious children were mine.
 |
| Margaret playing Mass |
 |
| John reading the Douay-Rheims version of the Bible |
 |
| Mary reading Divine Intimacy |
My spirit and patience were renewed by this tender and quiet play, which is always useful because it doesn't last for long!
Love the light reading. And John's pout of concentration.
ReplyDelete