JulieLeung.com: a life told in tidepools

This morning Ted took Abigail to the start of four weeks of soccer practice. I stayed at home with Michaela and Elisabeth, a rare time alone with my younger two.

I wasn’t quite sure what to do with the time Ted and Abigail would be gone, more than an hour. After cleaning up breakfast, I sat on the living room carpet with my little ones and there I asked God, “How can I give you glory this morning?”

The answer came to me. Simply. I would give God glory by playing with my children. By pushing the toy train across the carpet or crawling with my baby. By being fully there for Michaela and Elisabeth – not distracted by the newspaper, or attempting to organize my desk or trying to do something else at the same time. Just being there and playing with my kids would give God glory.

So Michaela and I made granola: she had fun with the wooden spoon mixing together apple juice, honey and oil to moisten oats, wheat germ, coconut and flax seed, all together in a big glass bowl. She likes to make things. She likes to stir. Some spilled but this time I didn’t care. I played with the plastic train, putting the cars together, letting each girl grab a piece of it. I crawled across the carpet with Elisabeth, laughing at each other. We rolled the ball together, making a triangle, from me to Michaela to Baby. Michaela painted with her watercolors and I watched. She drew with her new crayons and made me a picture of multicolored circles, putting it on my desk as a present. Elisabeth laughed a lot. I held her and she gave me many baby kisses.

Oh, it was tempting, here and there, to try to do something at my desk. Bad habits I’ve learned. Keeping busy. Getting stuff done. Sorting papers. Even checking email. I had to stop myself and remember what I had heard.

What I realized this morning was the simplicity of glory. When I think about giving God glory, I think about a cathedral with stained glass windows, a monumental work of art that consumes body and soul, enduring through time. I think that it must be something huge to give glory, something the whole world can see. Something majestic and mighty. The Sistine Chapel ceiling or a symphony. Something spectacular and powerful in its impression. Glory with a big G.

But I saw this morning that I give God glory as I play with little girls. I saw that I am building cathedrals on my living room carpet. Our moments together make the pieces of stained glass.