It's a Slow Summer around here, and we've been blessed with time and freedom to do what we want, when we want. The Midwest weather is unpredictable, but we've had a few cooler days lately (thank you, Jesus) where we've been able to venture to the non-shaded park by our house.
My kids amaze me. They can meander up to a child and befriend them in just a matter of seconds. Then they are off. To play tag. To climb up the twisty slide. To push each other on a swing. To pretend they are Elsa and Anna, or pilots, or chefs. Endless possibilities made even more fun.
The more the merrier.
When we are in the van headed home, I'll ask the kids what their new friends names are, and they always say they don't know.
Because they skip the formal crap we adults partake in. Stuff like what's your name, what do you do for a living, do you eat organic, what church do you go to, you do go to church, right?
The kids make friends. They don't care if these friends were breast or bottle fed. They don't care if the kids are in diapers, pull ups, or underwear (or, if you're one of my kiddos....underwear is completely unnecessary and is a nuisance...). They don't care if the kid eats Goldfish for lunch or sips a kale-strawberry-Greek yogurt smoothie. They don't bother to discuss hobbies, philosophies, or world problems.
The more, the merrier.
I love how my children have such big hearts. They love big. They live big. They can put their arms around the nearest kid and let their imaginations run wild.
I am guilty of, just like every adult, putting limits on my love, our acceptance, and our welcoming spirit. This reminds me of one of the most beautiful, honest, and hard-to-read-but-need-to-read blog posts I've ever read from Jen Hatmaker. You must read it.
My kids are my best teachers.
They are shining examples of Christ's love....a love that adults often slowly let go as we meet all of the "theys," and our list of who we won't associate with, speak to, and worse, intentionally snub, insult, or gossip about grows and grows and grows.
My girls often entertain themselves before gymnastics class by starting a game of Ring Around the Rosie with any kids nearby. By the time the teacher opens the door to call the students into the classroom, the circle is blissfully chaotic and large. There are kids of many ages (babies up to older siblings), races, and abilities. The circle just grows and grows.
It's so beautiful.
I pray I have the courage, the strength, and the conviction to let my circle grow and grow, without judgment, without a second-thought.
The more, the merrier.