"To be awake is to be alive. I have never yet met a man who was quite awake." -Thoreau

I need to work on this.

This morning's babysitting quote of the day:

Jordan (finishing breakfast): "Mmm...fresh milk squeezed from a cow...and fresh napkin...squeezed from a tree..."

"I have just three things to teach: simplicity, patience, and compassion. These three are your greatest treasures."
-Lao Tzu


This weekend I babysat for my aunt and uncle. They have two boys: Tyler, who's four, and one-year-old Hayden. Tyler's an argumentative brat, but he's still my favorite; the justification he finds for most of his behavior is so ridiculous it renders itself irrefutable. Example:

"Tyler, it's time for story and bed. Get your pajamas on."

"But I don't wanna go to bed."

"Tyler, it's 9 o'clock, we need to get ready for bed."

"But mommy and daddy wouldn't make me..."

"But your mom and dad put me in charge, and they told me now is bed time."

"But what if mommy and daddy DIDN'T put you in charge? What if they put...Ernie (their pug) in charge?"

"Well, what do you think he'd make you do?"

"Um..." pauses for a moment "Woof. That means it's playtime."

Often all I can do is laugh.


Hayden is often a different story. Generally, he's a ball of sunshine. Corny, I know, but there's no better way to put it. Unfortunately, as he's grown, he's also grown in temper. He lives in two extremes: human and demon (think Exorcist, Rosemary's Baby, etc.). Unfortunately for me, he was also sick, teething, and had a diaper rash. For four hours he screamed at the top of his lungs. I had done everything I could. He was fed, clean, newly changed, and I knew he was tired because he kept nodding off between wails. I was shocked he wasn't projectile vomiting, or setting things on fire with his eyes. I felt bad for Joanna, who definitely didn't accompany me only to be dodging pacifiers and cereal all night. But me being me, and him being a baby, I kept rocking him, singing to him (an assortment of the Beatles; most make awfully good lullabies) and praying to God that the demons depart from him peacefully. It was all I could do from sticking him in a basket it and sending him down the Fox River.

And then I realized how much this situation was a microscopic scene of God's relationship with us. We too often complain, curse, sob, pity ourselves into insanity...when really, we're some of the few that have it best down here. I can only just picture God shaking His head and staring at us with sad eyes, wishing for us to be at peace. He could leave us alone to cry to ourselves, unheard and without comfort. He could decide to stop answering our prayers, get sick of it and cut off all communication. He could smite us, end the panic right then and there. He could erase all of creation at the drop of a hat...but He doesn't. Instead, He loves us unconditionally.

I had been praying for God to calm Hayden down...for more patience with him...and ended thanking the Father for own unrelenting His patience with me. Funnily enough, as soon as I came to that understanding, Hayden stopped His crying, laid down, and went to sleep.

The next morning he punched me in the throat, but that's irrelevant.