I’m sitting cozy in my office. Freshly showered, 2 kids freshly bathed (I even cut one’s hair!) and I don’t even have a headache (a rarity for me – especially as I had a crummy sleep).
The agenda for today involves multiple loads of laundry, packing 2 boys & myself for an overnight adventure at the zoo with their scouting group and tidying up for a babysitter tomorrow evening (please tell me I’m not the only one to clean for a sitter?).
I was plotting my route to the zoo (we need to be there right as rush hour is ending – fab! A normally 20 minute drive would take over an hour by the most direct route – so I’m searching a less direct route. Not knowing the city that well, it could get interesting. In between this, I’m busy working on my teaching application and checking friend’s status updates on facebook. A pretty typical day.
This morning I noticed on my fb a new article from War Child Canada. It described the situation of child warriors and that when people think of child soldiers, it is more so the boys that get the attention. This article focused on the girls. A sobering picture.
My peaceful, task oriented morning has now been flooded with thoughts about these sweet princesses and what THEIR daily routine might entail. My own sweet princess is currently wearing a flouncy blue princess dress - her agenda for today was to watch Ariel and she prepped herself by having a nice bath, enduring a haircut & picking out her Ariel undies to wear.
My heart broke as I read the article and I am SO GLAD it popped up on my screen. My biggest fear is that while I am compassionately moved by world issues, especially the current state of affairs in Africa, I know my day quickly gets swallowed up by my own routines. And so easily the things that break my heart one moment are forgotten in the next. I don’t want to forget.
I have 2 big boys and a little girl (who often reminds me she’s big). They are 8, 5 & 3. Both my boys at about age 2 or 3 started acknowledging that there were a few anatomical differences between them and me. The most obvious, of course, is a penis. I recall their concern for me and one of them even vowed to find a way that he could get one for me. This was a huge deal to them. (and very amusing to us)
My daughter, at 3, has also recognized these differences, but rather than asking what she is missing, she recognizes what a treasure it is to be a girl. She has generated for her and I, this special little club that only WE get to be a part of. She’ll look at the boys and almost sadly say, “You and daddy are boys” (boo hoo) “But ME & Mommy! We are GIRLS!!” I call her my princess and she calls me her princess. I kinda like being part of her club.
I think of these girls who are rightfully princesses. They are each uniquely and beautifully created by God who treasures each and every one dearly. I am thankful for groups that are in the midst of the conflict and are working hard to support these children and bring awareness to the rest of the world.
I have to get back to my laundry now (and The Little Mermaid is about done). My daily routine will continue, but I know my thoughts will be with these children many times today.