There are too many toys and screens and schedules these days—too much telling children what and how to play, and not enough boredom. But boredom, I think, is absolutely necessary.

I had been working in the house and garden all day, before I discovered this gem.

Across the morning, five-year-old Max had been quietly at work by himself building a log "cabin." In the afternoon, he continued improving it and three-year-old Sienna joined him with her bucket, gathering “food” for their “house.” Studying the “cabin,” she suggested they pull grass and moss for “beds” and “carpet." And so they did, before adding some chairs to share a meal of leaves and rocks.

As I was marveling at their creation it hit me—this is not mere child’s play, but critical life work. The words of Catholic physician and educator Dr. Maria Montessori (after whom Montessori schools and learning methods are named) came quickly to mind: "Play is the work of the child." And truly, there is something more meaningful occurring here than dirty hands and carefully arranged logs.

For in their imaginative free-play, my children are puzzling together what it means to live in human relationship. The tiny log cabin with two plastic chairs is their precious, functional microcosm of family life. They have, in essence, reconstructed the primary society of the home, where a mother and father have equal value and complementary roles. In the way most natural to them—play—they are exploring their future place in the world, even practicing for it, testing and honing their God-given skills.

And I sensed there was something else, too—something greater and far more wondrous—happening here. It was, perhaps, a glimpse of what Jesus meant when he told us to, “turn and become like children” (Matthew 18:3). For children dwell fully within His present moment, unhindered by regret and resentment, unaffected by pride and fear. They promptly do what they are able, using the gifts God has placed directly within and around them. Their humble play is polished in a radical acceptance, a default gratitude, a creative resourcefulness; they are content, even delighted, with the limits of their circumstance.

But can I say the same thing about my life, my attitude? Am I content to do the will of God—today and every day—to work at my unglamorous vocation as wife and mother with the happy surrender of a child?

Yes, there was a pearl of value hidden in my children's play, a spiritual lesson for me, too. For who can overlook the higher call—the call to heaven—woven in the wonder, joy, order and beauty of the simple world of the child?

“Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child, he is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 18:3-4)