This week has been interesting. Apparently, Number Two got the memo on turning five, cranking up her participation and conversation level accordingly. It has been a delight, but I do find myself having to be deliberate about paying attention. I am so accustomed to this child being mostly quiet that I haven’t trained myself to listen to her.
And so it goes.
Our verse for the week was I Timothy 5:4, 8, & 16:
But if any widow have children or nephews, let them learn first to shew piety at home, and to requite their parents: for that is good and acceptable before God…But if any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel…If any man or woman that believeth have widows, let them relieve them, and let not the church be charged; that it may relieve them that are widows indeed.
My first question on Monday morning was, “Who knows what a widow is?” We have discussed what widows are many times because Daughter A. is mortified that her Gran lives alone, and is sure to ask all about it after any visit with her. So, I was not surprised when A. threw both hands up in the air and bounced up and down saying, “I know! I know! I know!”
So we all prepared to listen.
And what ensued was a very elaborate description of a black widow spider.
I know I cannot laugh at this child, especially this child, but, my, it was difficult! Somehow, though, I was able to give the other definition of widow without deflating her too badly.
Our conversation throughout the week evolved, and sometime midweek we found ourselves discussing the concept of preparing your whole life for this endeavor. I told the children that, for instance, their father and I had tried to make sure our house was big enough to squish in a family member if we ever needed to. I turned to E. and mentioned that he would have to think of those things when he was a man making decisions for his own household.
His response?
“Um,” as he shifted awkwardly in his seat, “I think I have decided to be a monk.”
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