A Bushel of Brooks

A Bushel of Brooks
Us as we are ...

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Wednesday Nights

Each Wednesday is a late work day for Eli. He is running youth group, and so a "normal" Wednesday workday is 10-10. But often he gets home later than that, meeting with high school or college students after youth group is well over. Tonight I don't expect him home til after 10. It is a normal routine for us, and the boys adjusted long ago.

But when Abram was born, Wednesday nights became much more of a challenge. I don't nurse my babies to sleep during the day, but I do before bed. And my commitment is to be at youth group with Eli on Wednesdays if at all possible. I want to connect with the teen girls, see how things are going, help if I can, and participate! We are partners in ministry. I used to stay until it was over around 8:30 or so, but I also knew I would have to adjust once Abram arrived: I had to for quite awhile when Matthias was born.

So, we leave sometime between 7:30 and 8:00 to head home, and nursing him, getting all the other boys in jammies and teeth brushed, have a cup of milk, etc etc etc, isn't super easy on my own. We aren't a late to bed kind of family.
If I know Eli isn't going to be home at bedtime for a trip or something, I start waaaaaayyyyy earlier in the evening starting to get things and little people prepped! = ) But that isn't possible on a Wednesday.

So, my dad has just been coming over for the last five months on Wednesday nights. He is amazing. Completely volunteered himself to be assistant get-everyone-ready-for-bed. He reads the boys a book, sings them songs, prays for them. He's even had to help with baths because they found a sand pit one week (side note: SAND IS SUPER ANNOYING!!! IT GETS EVERYWHERE!). No complaints.

To my boys it is already normal. This is how Wednesdays just are.

But I listen. I hear him sing some of the same songs he sang to me when I was little. I hear him pray over them. I listen from my glider as he reads books, does silly voices, and the laughter floats down the hallway. I hear the boys convince him to quickly play a game of Go Fish before he puts them in bed. I sit and rock ... and feel overwhelmingly blessed.

Yes, I could do it. But he doesn't want me to have to. He loves me, he loves the bushel, he loves Eli. And he demonstrates his love in this way. In a practical way that blesses me far beyond he really knows. I always say thank you, give him a hug, tell him I love him as he leaves. But, I wish he could understand HOW MUCH it means to me every week. I tell him! But, I don't know that he can even see. I don't take him coming over for granted. It's like a breath of fresh air to end the day. And it is creating memories that I know sink into my heart, and I pray stay with the boys as they grow. Hearing Opa's voice read certain books, sing those favorite songs, and reassure them how much they are loved. By him. By us. By our Heavenly Father.

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