Sorting Rubber Bands for Taylor's Rainbow Loom. Connection...
I think I've shared before that connection with my daughter, Taylor, takes a little more effort and finesse. She's just not quite as affectionate and doesn't take the initiative to connect the same way the others do. But to say that she doesn't exchange affection couldn't be more misrepresentative of her heart.
She has love languages just like anyone else. I discovered one just the other night.
So her primary love language is Quality Time. If she can be alone with you, she is golden. There is something about the freedom to not compete for attention with others that changes her whole demeanor.
I was sitting on the couch watching something (nothing was on) when I noticed she had dumped all her loom rubber bands on the floor so that she could collate them into colors. You see, she has a rainbow loom that the kids are into these days where you can weave together rubber bands to make anything from ships to sharks. It's crazy to see the designs that she's painstakingly woven together.
She typically has all her little rubber bands separated into their little compartments in this huge case she hauls around. She is very particular about certain things, and perfectionism in certain areas of her life teeters on OCD. I relate to some degree, cause I'm into things being symmetrical, and when they aren't, I can hardly stand it...I actually feel my body moving to align things or fix what's cockeyed. Anyway...
Her brothers had dumped countless thousands of these rubber bands out of their compartments and into one huge pile. What used to be 24 carefully organized rubber bands of assorted colors turned into a variegated mountain of rubber puke. It was a quiet night where just she and I were home and while we were talking and watching television, she pulled out the mixed up bag of rubber bands and dumped it on the living room floor. I watched as she began the long process of sorting each rubber band back into its pile of belonging. She even turned to me at one point and said, "I like doing this." I just shook my head.
It was while I was shaking my head that I had a thought that could have only been from God, because there isn't a snowflake's chance in hell that I would have come to this conclusion on my own. I heard as clear as a siren in my head, "She would love it if you would offer to help her. It would mean the world to her." I tried to sit there a little longer to let that irrational thought dissipate, but it didn't, it just echoed all the louder.
"Hey Tay, let me help you...many hands make light work."
She smiled and moved over a bit showing me how there were three different color blues and some colors were more see through and others more brilliant while others were more muted. The more she explained the importance of not getting the different colors mixed together, the more I realized what I had gotten myself into. It was one thing to have 24 distinct colors, but when there were 3 shades of green and 4 shades of blue and 5 shades of red/pink/maroon...I began to sweat.
It was 8pm and I saw the night flash before my eyes.
In order to pass the time, we put some Jim Gaffigan on Netflicks for background noise and laughed along as we divided this pile up bit by bit. We worked for 2 hours and it was as if we hadn't made a dent in the pile. I'm not kidding you. I would grab a handful and it would take me 15 minutes to place each rubber band in its respective pile. My neck was starting to hurt and the floor wasn't feeling as soft as it did at first.
But as we worked and worked and worked, we laughed at Gaffigan's jokes in the background and Tay would just talk to me about whatever came to her mind. There was a freedom in her as I gave myself over to what was important to her. In fact, when I volunteered to help her she said, "Really? You wanna help?" I think it shocked her out of a normal night of compartmentalization in her own brain, and awoke something that often stays in a stupor. She was smiling and alive and relaxed and free.
3 hours went by and we were still far from over...until she shared with me that she learned that it's better to pick a color in the pile and just try to pick out every rubber band of that color. Instead of grabbing handful by handful, we both moved over to either side of this mountain of madness, and began picking a color and going for it. I started with orange...it was the easiest for me to see and there were only two types of orange.
That's when things started moving faster and I could see progress. With every color we would root out from the pile there was a feeling of accomplishment. My back was killing me from leaning over and my shoulders were aching from leaning sideways and propping myself up to switch up positions. Tay was feeling the same muscles actually starting to spasm.
At 12:24am we finally finished up. Four and a half hours of sorting stupid rubber bands for her rainbow loom.
But that wasn't the point, the real meaning of these moments was found in caring about what she cared about. It was entering into her world and making it my own. It was getting off the couch onto the floor and helping her with this daunting project. It was meaningful precisely because the activity wasn't meaningful, and she knew it. She knew it was stupid and brainless, that is why she valued my help even more.
I could tell she was so connected to me that night. In fact, when we finished, I was sitting at the couch and she came up behind me and put her arms around my neck. (hardly ever happens) Coincidence...I think not. As she went to bed, she kissed me and gave me a hug.
"Thanks for helping me tonight, Dad. That would've taken me forever."
I told her that it was fun to be able to help her and that I hope she slept better because those pesky rubber bands were finally organized. Then I told her to hide them in a safe place so her brothers could never do that again. hehe.
Who knew that a rainbow loom and disorganized rubber bands could be used so powerfully to bring us together. It just showed me how I need to be more observant of often overlooked connection points that seem obscure and meaningless. If I want to enter her world, I can't be looking only in the areas where it naturally intersects mine.
She has love languages just like anyone else. I discovered one just the other night.
So her primary love language is Quality Time. If she can be alone with you, she is golden. There is something about the freedom to not compete for attention with others that changes her whole demeanor.
I was sitting on the couch watching something (nothing was on) when I noticed she had dumped all her loom rubber bands on the floor so that she could collate them into colors. You see, she has a rainbow loom that the kids are into these days where you can weave together rubber bands to make anything from ships to sharks. It's crazy to see the designs that she's painstakingly woven together.
She typically has all her little rubber bands separated into their little compartments in this huge case she hauls around. She is very particular about certain things, and perfectionism in certain areas of her life teeters on OCD. I relate to some degree, cause I'm into things being symmetrical, and when they aren't, I can hardly stand it...I actually feel my body moving to align things or fix what's cockeyed. Anyway...
Her brothers had dumped countless thousands of these rubber bands out of their compartments and into one huge pile. What used to be 24 carefully organized rubber bands of assorted colors turned into a variegated mountain of rubber puke. It was a quiet night where just she and I were home and while we were talking and watching television, she pulled out the mixed up bag of rubber bands and dumped it on the living room floor. I watched as she began the long process of sorting each rubber band back into its pile of belonging. She even turned to me at one point and said, "I like doing this." I just shook my head.
It was while I was shaking my head that I had a thought that could have only been from God, because there isn't a snowflake's chance in hell that I would have come to this conclusion on my own. I heard as clear as a siren in my head, "She would love it if you would offer to help her. It would mean the world to her." I tried to sit there a little longer to let that irrational thought dissipate, but it didn't, it just echoed all the louder.
"Hey Tay, let me help you...many hands make light work."
She smiled and moved over a bit showing me how there were three different color blues and some colors were more see through and others more brilliant while others were more muted. The more she explained the importance of not getting the different colors mixed together, the more I realized what I had gotten myself into. It was one thing to have 24 distinct colors, but when there were 3 shades of green and 4 shades of blue and 5 shades of red/pink/maroon...I began to sweat.
It was 8pm and I saw the night flash before my eyes.
In order to pass the time, we put some Jim Gaffigan on Netflicks for background noise and laughed along as we divided this pile up bit by bit. We worked for 2 hours and it was as if we hadn't made a dent in the pile. I'm not kidding you. I would grab a handful and it would take me 15 minutes to place each rubber band in its respective pile. My neck was starting to hurt and the floor wasn't feeling as soft as it did at first.
But as we worked and worked and worked, we laughed at Gaffigan's jokes in the background and Tay would just talk to me about whatever came to her mind. There was a freedom in her as I gave myself over to what was important to her. In fact, when I volunteered to help her she said, "Really? You wanna help?" I think it shocked her out of a normal night of compartmentalization in her own brain, and awoke something that often stays in a stupor. She was smiling and alive and relaxed and free.
3 hours went by and we were still far from over...until she shared with me that she learned that it's better to pick a color in the pile and just try to pick out every rubber band of that color. Instead of grabbing handful by handful, we both moved over to either side of this mountain of madness, and began picking a color and going for it. I started with orange...it was the easiest for me to see and there were only two types of orange.
That's when things started moving faster and I could see progress. With every color we would root out from the pile there was a feeling of accomplishment. My back was killing me from leaning over and my shoulders were aching from leaning sideways and propping myself up to switch up positions. Tay was feeling the same muscles actually starting to spasm.
At 12:24am we finally finished up. Four and a half hours of sorting stupid rubber bands for her rainbow loom.
But that wasn't the point, the real meaning of these moments was found in caring about what she cared about. It was entering into her world and making it my own. It was getting off the couch onto the floor and helping her with this daunting project. It was meaningful precisely because the activity wasn't meaningful, and she knew it. She knew it was stupid and brainless, that is why she valued my help even more.
I could tell she was so connected to me that night. In fact, when we finished, I was sitting at the couch and she came up behind me and put her arms around my neck. (hardly ever happens) Coincidence...I think not. As she went to bed, she kissed me and gave me a hug.
"Thanks for helping me tonight, Dad. That would've taken me forever."
I told her that it was fun to be able to help her and that I hope she slept better because those pesky rubber bands were finally organized. Then I told her to hide them in a safe place so her brothers could never do that again. hehe.
Who knew that a rainbow loom and disorganized rubber bands could be used so powerfully to bring us together. It just showed me how I need to be more observant of often overlooked connection points that seem obscure and meaningless. If I want to enter her world, I can't be looking only in the areas where it naturally intersects mine.
Comments
Post a Comment