At Nana's place the other day, among her kidlets and grandkidlets, we joked that all of Jenny's friends think we're perfect. She was telling us something she had told a friend about one of us. Whatever it was, it sounded divine. She said that yes, they likely do think her children are perfect because she always speaks well of her children.
I had been telling quite a few people that week about some of Isaac's recent behaviours at child care. It wasn't really a terrible thing to mention but I was concerned so it was the first thing I said when people asked how he was doing. I'd like to learn this lesson quickly, to speak well of my children, and who better to learn it from than Jenny, mother of four lovelies, and grandmother of eight, almost nine, charms.
I would like to be quick to speak of how Isaac wears his beautiful smile from the moment he opens his eyes in the morning until he lies down to sleep each night; of the silly joyful energy that flows out from that very heart smile of his; of how he loves to be outside or, if that's not possible, to gaze at outside happenings from a cozy window perch; of his ready acceptance to part with a moment in order to take on the next new adventure; of his great love for hanging out with his little friends, expressed in brushed cheek kisses, power hugs, and the enthusiastic repetition of their names. I could go on and on and on.
Jacob practised this principle from the moment his babies were born -
"Rachel was about to die, but with her last breath she named the baby Ben-oni (which means “son of my sorrow”). The baby's father, however, called him Benjamin (which means “son of my right hand”) (Genesis 35:18).