There has been a stream of teenagers through my house. Last night my older son hosted a poker party. I have no idea what time THAT ended, but judging by the state of the kitchen when I awoke, they had a good time and didn't go away hungry. My younger son was off to see the newest James Bond movie with his friends after several "mini-trips" to hang with his gang. It has been wonderful having my boys home for Thanksgiving. Today they go back to school, but at least I have the consolation that they'll be back in less than a month. The goodbyes at the airport and bus station will be teary, nevertheless.
I'd almost forgotten how much energy they add to this house. Since I go to bed long before either of them do, I get to hear the soothing rumble of deep male voices through the floor as they laugh and argue and chat about the state of the universe. I remember well when the voices were much lighter and we tucked them in with a story and a lullaby every night. It's good. This is the way the world is supposed to turn and my heart fills with pride at the kind of men they are becoming.
Since Thanksgiving was here, the house is in better order than usual, thanks to Himself, who worked tirelessly hiding this and shoving that out of sight. The game now is to find where everything is. I refuse to decorate for Christmas yet. I'm enjoying the silk autumn leaves entwined on the railing, the pumpkins by the fireplace, and the vases filled with orange and yellow mums. Advent doesn't begin until next week. No shopping in mobs and duking it out over plastic covered technology for me. Thanksgiving isn't about shopping and Christmas isn't about presents. I want to give my sons the gift of presence. Any way you wrap it, that's a winner.
I'd almost forgotten how much energy they add to this house. Since I go to bed long before either of them do, I get to hear the soothing rumble of deep male voices through the floor as they laugh and argue and chat about the state of the universe. I remember well when the voices were much lighter and we tucked them in with a story and a lullaby every night. It's good. This is the way the world is supposed to turn and my heart fills with pride at the kind of men they are becoming.
Since Thanksgiving was here, the house is in better order than usual, thanks to Himself, who worked tirelessly hiding this and shoving that out of sight. The game now is to find where everything is. I refuse to decorate for Christmas yet. I'm enjoying the silk autumn leaves entwined on the railing, the pumpkins by the fireplace, and the vases filled with orange and yellow mums. Advent doesn't begin until next week. No shopping in mobs and duking it out over plastic covered technology for me. Thanksgiving isn't about shopping and Christmas isn't about presents. I want to give my sons the gift of presence. Any way you wrap it, that's a winner.
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