At Home

Just a minute ago, Gavin was sitting on the floor playing with Chesterton. He had a small plastic bowl of goldfish clutched in his waving fist; he would plunge his hand into the bowl, take out a bunch of goldfish and scatter them across the floor, then laugh uproariously as Chesterton greedily gobbled them up. No sooner were the goldfish gone, then Gavin took another handful to feed to the dog, giggling and screeching all the while. What a generous, and messy, little brother I have: his nice Sunday outfit of kahki pants and a thick blue knit sweater (as well as his chubby face) are crumb-laden.

My generosity may be needed in a different manner, but it is ever so important. Will it make a difference in this week if, behind my every subtle action, I am persistent in a spirit of generosity? Can I do it with Gavin's delighted smile and bubbling laughter? I think I've lost a good deal of that baby's glee in giving--maybe I can grow it back.

I've tried to stick around home the past few weekends, in order to preserve my time (this has nothing to with generosity, it's only common sense). I've been so much happier, and so much more fulfilled. Yesterday I managed to clean the bathrooms, sort my drawers and bake bread, as well as do plenty of small fun things that I never have time for during the week. It was a sweet and sunny day, ending with brownies and gelato and Return of the King with Ladybird.

Today I hope to wash cars and do a little more cleaning, then relax and write, or whatever else strikes my fancy in the afternoon. There's something to be said for "a quiet and humble life" as Paul wrote... though the humble part may take some time.