Little Jaynee was longing for the sense of security that her city towers gave her.

This was foreign for the child, here in the country where her aunties had brought her. There was so much grass and trees. Rarely did they visit the city where there were some taller buildings, though not like the big city that she was used to.

She cried and longed for the Grandfather's penthouse view. The sense of calm that she got when her hand was in his as their feet hit the pavement to take the 15 block swift walk to school and the buildings that briskly passed them on their traverse. "Auntie, I see Grandfather's building, can I run and stand next to it and find the Grandfather there?" "You are talking like a silly-willy, stop the whining." was Auntie's response. "How can the Grandfather be at that building? You will see him again a long time from now, when you get to heaven." The time was on her mind and she had to get to her appointment.

Little Jayne couldn't be consoled, when Auntie spoke of Heaven. "I don't want to go to Heaven, if it took my precious Grandfather. It is a mean place." Between the sobs, Auntie was dragging her to the building to stand next to it. Does this make you feel better?, she begged. Thank you, Auntie. Do you remember the Penthouse building and the way my Grandfather held my hand on the way to preschool?

You are 5 now and Grandfather is long gone. We have to get through this and God is above. Find your comfort here for a minute, but please stop looking for Grandfather, it makes me cry.

She stood there waving up at the building. "Bye, Grandfather", she called out from behind her tears," I know that I will see you again." A smile came to her face and all seemed well to her, there. Auntie felt guilty that she almost denied the child this small comfort.

Thoughts on my neglect of my children...

Don't mother's always do this? It is a part of our sinful condition to cast blame on ourselves for everything. I take the moment of sickness in the daycare of my babies to look at my continual introspection and retrospection..."I could have kept them from this sickness, somehow?" Where is that sick and sore and vile substance that hurt my baby? I am looking for it...

Providentially, the baby girl calls with a laughable parallel. Heaven was laughing with us. I couldn't read it as we were going, I just saw CS and JRR laughing at me trying to figure out the unfigurable in LOR. Baby said, "Mommy, I took my first book out of the library." My mind was racing to defend myself. Doesn't she remember the Spot books and the enormous amount of time we spent at the library? I didn't dare let my mouth defend my one clear conscience spot of my mothering. What did you take out? I garbled in my shame. "The Screwtape Letters", was her excited response. I saw Heaven's humor at this irony. Mommy reader and daughter reader had met in the middle. I was learning to watch a movie of an unread book, which I try never to do and had chalked up to something I would learn to do in eternity. I was surpassing my confessed and accepted limitation to try to digest the Tolkien, Lewis heady style that I had poo-pooed away from myself and so was she.

To prevent my sickness and hers, I would take more time correcting her handwriting, which I think is a sensory disfunction, that needs to be corrected. I would make her read to me more, whatever the subject and whatever that means. I think the two are related; the reading deficiency and the writing malfunction. I would take the dirty blocks out of her mouth and keep her from the sicknesses. I much prefer God's way. He lets them explore and get sick and get better and holds mommy's hand while she cries. He understands our pain on both sides and our need to defend our decisions and our shame at our clear errors. They are ever before us and that is why we have a Savior to heal our, ever heaping shame. That is Elyven.

Today I saw

a bowing and worshiping woman and a bowing black panther. in the clouds, of course.