It is possible to love your job and to hate going to work on Monday morning. Often, on Sunday nights, a dread creeps in. Like it did a couple of days ago.
I posted this on my Ironic Mom Facebook Page:
You would think that would have been the end of my evening. But with twins who share a bedroom, the night was just getting started.
It was giggle-fest in the double room, so I went to investigate.
Two semi-clad kids were sitting on the floor, laughing.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “It’s bedtime.”
“Mom,” Vivian said between bouts of laughter. “It’s okay.” More giggles. “We’re talking about God.”
Both kids burst into further laughter.
“And souls,” Vivian added.
“Not the soles on your feet,” William said, pointing to his dirty ones. More laughter. The eight-year-old set gets puns.
I suppressed a grin and raised my eyebrows. My eyebrows can have full conversations without me opening my mouth.
“Really, Mom.” Viv reassured me. “That’s what we were talking about.”
I coaxed both kids into their pyjamas.
“Mom?” William asked, wriggling into his bed. “What does God look like?”
I pulled up his covers and sat down on the edge of his bed. “That’s a great question, Will,” I said. “No one really knows. A lot of people paint God as an old man with a gray beard, but I think he’s more than that. He’s not male and he’s not female. He’s beyond that.”
William nodded. “I think God looks like light,” he said.
I paused, smiled, and kissed him on the cheek. Then I did the same for Vivian.
As I left their room, I remembered a quote from the Quakers that a close friend once shared: “I’m holding you in the Light.”