Caring for all Creation

So when I recently had to go to hospital for some minor surgery on my leg, I was looking forward to some caring and compassion from my little ones when I returned.

While I was away, my creative eight year old Safiyya loved the opportunity to make some unusual ‘get well soon’ card designs, involving copious quantities of tracing paper, foil and spare buttons ( I do hope we don’t need the latter later…). But the younger two apparently didn’t even notice I wasn’t around until supper time. ‘Why isn’t Mummy making my dinner?’ they asked their father accusingly, presuming this to be my sole purpose in life. The following morning they were all up and dressed just after 6am, very excited at the thought Daddy would be taking them to school – and Daddy felt very pleased with himself that the morning rush was being managed so smoothly without me. ‘Who needs mothers anyway?’ they thought!

I came home finding it hard to sit down, walk and talk (due to tubes having been put down my throat) - and the children sensed weakness! As I lay down exhausted, I could only watch helplessly as they raided the fridge and larder. 3-year old Amaani traipsed through the house carrying a chocolate muffin, amazingly managing to drop different bits of it in most rooms of the house. I summoned the energy to get them together at prayer time, and felt happy to be praying with the children again. But the second we had finished, Amaani sat up indignantly and spoke her mind: ‘You cheated mummy, God will see you’. Yes I had indeed ‘cheated’, praying standing up instead of the more usual way involving standing, bending, and prostrating on the ground, but I did explain to my assertive pre-schooler that God was a little more merciful than children and probably wouldn’t mind too much in the circumstances.

And then while my leg was still bandaged up and out of action, Nibbles the school hamster came home. Not ideal timing perhaps, but Safiyya was desperate to be Nibbles’ carer and a while back I had agreed we could have him when he had a spare weekend. And this glorious weekend, it transpired that he had nothing else scheduled apart from to be with our family! The children clearly felt that the hamster was much more worthy of tender loving care and tended to him constantly. Nibbles was given the run of the lounge and the bedroom, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. As Nibbles is only about 10cm long, I was quite taken aback that his mess levels seemed to be pretty much on a par with Amaani’s. But he was much more economical to keep, only eating one sunflower seed for the duration of the weekend in addition to ferreting about in the tiny pots of food and water that he arrived with. I did sporadically worry about his diet, having no idea about how much he should be eating or drinking, and desperately prayed that he did not die whilst in our care.

When I hadn’t seen the hamster for a while, I asked Safiyya what she had done with him. She showed me his new sleeping place – nestled in a heap of prayer mats. I suggested this was not an ideal spot, as he was very likely to get shaken out and dropped from a great height as we picked them up. ‘But he likes it here’ she said plaintively, as if the hamster’s preferences should take priority over all other concerns such as safety and hygiene. How can such a small hamster be so fussy anyway? Nibbles was unceremoniously removed and put back into his cage, and his preferences disregarded for the rest of the weekend.

By Sunday afternoon, I could tell Nibbles was already losing his appeal. And surprisingly the children were starting to be a little more compassionate to their mum. Amaani realised it was affecting her as she couldn’t clamber all over me, although did still frequently try anyway. Asim wanted me to be able to play and read with him again: for some reason, he didn’t appreciate the bedtime story so much when it was read from a standing position. Safiyya observed my reduced mobility impinged on her too, as I couldn’t pick up all her stuff that she left lying around, so she kindly and imaginatively demonstrated to me how I could balance on my good leg and bend over to reach the floor without keeling over.

So perhaps having a temporarily one-legged mother has unexpected benefits – bringing out plenty of opportunities for creativity and even occasionally for compassion. I’ve certainly learnt to have a bit more empathy with the less able-bodied amongst us. And we have all learnt that hamsters are probably better off elsewhere, however many legs we have.

‍