It is hard to describe how I feel when I see a moment like this. Coop has yet to learn how to tie his shoes, and it is his big sister who wants to teach him. Though they frequently squabble, as most small people do, my sweet girl is far more likely to say, “Come here, Coopy, I’ll show you how”, just like she did this morning.
She sits down patiently right in front of him, tying and untying as she shows him the ‘one way she knows how’. Not known for her patience (I’m not sure where she has picked up that trait , she doesn’t even seem to get frustrated when he asks to try it himself. And fails. And tries again. And fails.
My little brother and I are two and a half years apart and have never been close. Every story my parents relay from our childhood revolves around picking at each other, bickering and a series of, “I know you are, but what am I?” taunts. My small people are only 23 months apart and I have to confess I worried about having them so close. I worried they would be on top of each other at every turn, picking at each other and making us all crazy.
I can’t lie. They do fight some. They roll their eyes, they tattle and they try to get each other in trouble. But that is only about 20% of the time. Truly. The rest of the time, they hug, they protect, they giggle and tackle, they teach. I know if I’m not there to take care of them, they will reach out to each other.
If my husband had written a letter to God before they were born, he would have asked for healthy, happy children who love sports as he does. If I had written a letter, I would have asked for God to help them to make each other a priority, to see each other for the best friends they can be. I wanted them to have something I never did, and still don’t.
Without ever writing it down, God heard the prayers in both of our hearts. I’m so grateful.