I love them. The title of this post is not meant to be a slight on them. I say “strange” because they are not like me, at least, not in this: they actually like to do manual labor. They are much more like my dear wife in this. As I write this post, Lizzy and Martin are over at the church helping Janice, our member and janitor, clean the church. They did this entirely of their own volition. I sent them outside to play. I go to check on them, and where else do I find them but in the church, vacuuming, and cleaning windows. I ask myself: “Are these my children?” And then I have to say: “Yes they are. They are also my wife’s children.” They are like her: always eager to help, lend a hand, push a broom, etc. This morning they were all excited about going to the local park and picking up trash (a church/Thrivent project).
This amazes me because I was virtually (and still am to some extent) completely the opposite. I would much rather be sitting in a chair with my pipe and a book and watching every one else do the “dirty work.” I’m not proud of this. I just know myself, and have no problem “boasting in my weaknesses.” I wish I were more willing and eager to do work like this. Honestly. It’s not that I won’t do it, but I do it reluctantly. It’s really amazing to see my kids actually jumping at the chance to help out with stuff. As a joke between us, my wife and I laughingly admit that if we lived during the Victorian era, she would probably be part of the working class and I a member of the Gentry. 🙂