Children's Chatter

(Apparently when I copied and pasted this little essay into my JOURNEYS newsletter this month the puntuation marks got all skewed with other characters. So for those who had a difficult time reading it, here it is again.)

CHILDREN’S CHATTER

When the door of the van slid closed and the last wave goodbye to anxious parents was finished, our three young grandchildren began to chatter as we headed off to Put-In-Bay, OH, with them.
“Are we going to the butterfly house?”

“Will we ride the ferry?”

“I have big girl pants!”

It was music to an empty-nester’s ears. Once the kids leave home and begin their own lives and start their own families, the nest they came from can get pretty quiet. We have two sons who regularly check in with us. One is Donny, who knows that Wednesday is his laundry and home-cooked meal day and calls to be sure we haven’t forgotten. It’s a welcome call since Don is developmentally handicapped and it is another opportunity for us to know all is well with him.

The other son is Rob who calls almost weekly on Friday. It’s a habit he established at his mother’s request when he went off to school in Miami, Florida, more than fifteen years ago. While it is more likely he will talk to his father (Bob has the toll free line), it is still good to hear news of what is happening in his life. And now that he has children too, it keeps us informed of our grandchildren’s development.

When our kids were young, they were eager to tell us of how their day went at school, what kind of problems they may have encountered, and what their plans were for the next day. We could discuss their activities, lend support and encouragement for the difficult days, and rejoice with them in their triumphs.

It’s not too different now that they are grown but on occasion, we have to initiate the conversation. Lives become busy, schedules are filled, and agendas beg for attention. When that happens, we have to contact them—get their attention—to find out how things are going.
Now, after two and a half fun filled days, the house is quiet again. The grandkids are home eagerly chattering to their parents about their trip with Grandma and Grandpa and experiencing the wonderful communication that bonds child to parent—the communication every parent longs for.

All of this is a reminder to me. When was the last time I made contact with my heavenly Father? When did I last chatter on about the exciting things in my life and thank Him for them? Will He somehow have to get my attention for me to communicate with Him, or will I cultivate the good habit of talking to Him daily?

God, as Father, longs to hear from his children. He has sent us out into the world but He longs to know how things are going from our perspective and then He’ll share His if we’ll listen. Have you chatted with your heavenly Father lately?

“And this is the prayer he taught them: "Father, may your name be honored for its holiness…” Luke 11:2 (TLB)

©Karen Robbins 2006

Papua New Guinea

The following is a sample story from my newsletter, JOURNEYS.

“Shout our name from the mountains to seas, Papua New Guinea.” The strains of their national anthem still play in my mind. I expected a great dive adventure. I didn’t expect to fall in love.

Perhaps it was waking anchored in calm inlets to hazy purplish sunrises with the distant call of exotic birds, or looking out at the lush green islands of Milne Bay that contrasted sharply against the clear skies and deep blue waters that drew me in. Without a doubt it was meeting the wonderful people of the villages that dot the islands so far away from the usual conveniences we take for granted.

Silently the dugout canoes sliced through the water from each village as we neared. Men, women, and children in canoes congregated at the sides and back of the live-aboard with fresh fruits and vegetables to trade for staples like rice and sugar. Some displayed crafts of wood and shells to sell or trade for T-shirts. Some fished. But all watched as we came and went in our dive gear. We were the entertainment for the day.

The paradise above was magnified in the treasures below. Abundant colorful marine life in all shapes and sizes played over a patchwork quilt of brilliant corals. An abundance of lionfish, countless varieties of nudibranchs, endless fields of anemones with their guardian clownfish, and the unusual--the hairy ghost pipefish, kept us diving back in for more. On this 10 day trip, we were limited only by our ability, stamina, and common sense. (Read the rest of the story.)