Through the back patio doors, I sat and watched. Yes, I had a car to clean out and a garage to reorganize. But this seemed far more important.
Being the mother of two rambunctious boys, I endure countless hours of bickering, fighting, teasing...you name it. The soundtrack of my house is often a cacophony of a television blaring, footsteps running on hardwood and screams. Not this afternoon. The boys had their friend Asher over to play after church and I had the privilege of witnessing children at their finest and most innocent.
There, in a backyard where the late afternoon sun dropped long shadows on the dark green grass, I delighted in watching three boys play a game of baseball. With nothing more than a couple mitts, a ball and a bat, they took turns pitching and swinging and, upon any form of contact, took off running for imaginary bases that seemed to be in a different place with each turn at bat.
What warmed my heart the most, though, was the simple joy with which the three interacted. There was no fighting, no arguing, no wrangling for whose turn it was. Instead, I watched as an older brother helped a younger brother including kissing a hurt finger from a stray pitch. Giggles erupted as they chased each other trying to tag for the out and the uncorrupted joy on their faces was a sight to behold.
It reminded me of the beauty of friendship and just how genuinely fulfilling it can be. I remembered the days of playing flash light tag or hide 'n seek in the back yard while my parents visited with other adults. Or endless days lacking technology but filled with hours of just being a kid-- filthy clothes and hands but enough memories to last a lifetime.
I'm so glad I took the time to watch the boys play today. What a sweet reminder of why being a parent might not be the worst job in the world ;)