It began with me calling out the window.

Daniel, he's going nuts in here. I don't know what to do with him! Can he come just sit out there near you for a while?

Sneakers were tied, and a crying boy--upset about this punishment of being outside with Daddy when all he wanted to do was terrorize his mom and sister--was ushered out the door to his father. I felt relieved. As much as I am glad to see "the project" (our driveway expansion/retaining wall) being worked on, these dawn-to-dusk days Daniel's been putting in, not even coming inside to eat lunch or dinner, followed by him running out the door for meetings have been a bit of strain... especially considering that we will be without him entirely for three weeks, beginning next Wednesday. His son has already been missing the stronger hand, steadier temperament, and masculine influence represented by him, and we haven't even gotten to the missions trip.

Fifteen minutes later I peaked out the window. I didn't want to leave Gabriel out there so long that Daniel's work would be terribly slowed down.

At first I didn't see Gabriel. Yup--there was Daniel, shovel in hand, working tediously at moving fill to where the next railroad tie-back needed to be placed. But no Gabriel.

Where's Gabriel, Daniel?

Daniel looked up, sweat trickling down his face. He smiled and pointed toward the big mound of dirt and fill that has claimed residence at the top of our driveway these past few weeks. Sure enough, there was my little 3-year-old boy, garden spade in hand. He was very carefully filling it with the couple handfuls of dirt it could hold. Next came his attempt at carrying the dirt over to where it needed to be put--an attempt not successful in the sense of actually moving any dirt.

When I called Gabriel in for dinner at 5:30, he began telling me of his work with Daddy; of how he was wearing "dirty clothes" like Daddy does, and using a shovel like Daddy does. Face beaming, he had already decided that he would help again the next day.

So he's out there right now, little spade in hand.

It's true: he's not getting a whole lot accomplished in a physical sense. But there's a lot going on inside of him. He's learning to take pride in the work of his hands. He's learning what it is to please his dad. He's learning how much better it is to use his energy for good and not for evil.

And, just maybe, my Dad feels the same way about me. I bet there are a lot of days when He sees the fact that the kids still aren't dressed, or that the bathroom needs to be cleaned. He knows even better than I do when there hasn't been a whole lot accomplished come sun-down. But He knews even better than I do when there's been a lot worked out in my heart and will and mind. And He'd much rather see those things any day.

Just like I'd rather see character and purpose developed in my 3-year-old than the pile of dirt moved from the top of my driveway.