Come Into My Corner

I wrote this piece for our local MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) newsletter. Thought I'd share it.

Come into my corner

I was in the kitchen one day attempting to put together a nutritious dinner. While Annisia squealed from her swing, Jonathan drove his semi into the kitchen and parked in front of the stove. He opened the back doors of the truck then got the toaster out of the cupboard.
“OK, Jonathan, get out of my corner here. I’m trying to make dinner.” WHOA! I am my mother’s daughter. That’s what she often told us as kids. I had to chuckle.
Then I noticed Jonathan had put the toaster cord into the back of his truck. “Look, Mommy, I’m making you French toast!” What a funny kid! Suddenly, I wanted him in my corner. I’ll gladly step over his “tools” if it means he’s content.
I grew up in a large family, the youngest of seven. Understandably, cooking meals for that many can get old at times. So Mom was interested in just getting it done. “Get out of my corner” was a phrase we heard often. (Until it was time to do the dishes!) These days at family gatherings, you’re more likely to hear one of us kids telling Mom to “get out of my corner”, and then we all laugh.
I moved away from home at 20 not really knowing how to cook much because Mom did it all and we stayed “out of her corner”. That doesn’t really matter because I learned how to cook. But I only have two children to occupy me, so I want to relax more and invite them to be around me while I go about my day.
It makes me think about the immense patience God has with us. He always has room for us in His corner, always wants to teach us something new (or re-teach us something old). So the next time Jonathan comes into my corner while I’m cooking and takes my biggest fry pan out to “make pizza stone”, I want to praise his imagination, stroke his ingenuity, and laugh at his antics. Come into my corner and “make butter” with the corncob butterer and use the cheese slicer to “make cheese”. Gather all the socks I am trying to sort and fold to “make a pile”. (Just don’t stack our firewood on top of them to build a fire!)
Come into my corner, my sweet little boy. May you always feel welcome to be around me.