We want something else which can hardly be put into words—to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it. C. S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory
So Idaho gal leaves for the weekend, gone away with high school girls from church which should earn her, at least, the Congressional Medal of Honor or a bottle of wine or both and in her good-doing I am left with minion 1 and minion 2, caffeinated and amplified minions, their still developing identity spinning out in raw energy and questions, every thought verbalized with great vigor. Too soon all of this energy will go subterranean, sliding incrementally into long sullen silences as they hunker down to figure out who they are and only after long gestation emerge, big and brash, identities all their own. For now, however, each thought and experience must be expressed and engaged because life is big, interesting and enthralling and they want me to be in it with them, all the time.
Which is a time limited good, so I silence my ever chattering call “to do” and settle into the couch to watch a game with them while they yak and eat and dig around in body parts and wiggle, so that watching the game is an aerobic activity and the goodness of the moment is broken by a disagreement, a screech and a thrown lego and minion 2 is sent to his room, on the way his displeasure made known by wails and weeps, until that wee Job lies on his bed and thump, thumps the wall with the heel of his foot until he thump-kerchunks a hole in his wall and in his distress and fascination with the damage he has wrought he snuffles his way back to the couch, abject and worried. And his furrowed brow is so deeply remorseful that it’s impossible to be mad, so we trot off to the bed, look at the hole in the wall, tut tut together and discuss at great length how to patch drywall, and decide it’s time to visit Home Depot for a patch kit, which leads to long minutes searching labyrinthine aisles while I answer endless questions about the importance of mesh in drywall mud. And because minion-ing is calorie consuming, we look for a place to eat that doesn’t serve garlic infused french fries because, of course, any variation from normal french fries will cause much head shaking and hand wringing and maybe a little more weeping. Continue reading “Do Joy”