Small Things

The first day of catechism

My first grade son started catechism classes yesterday, beginning to prepare for his first communion in two years.  He seemed to have a good time, when he walked in several kids he'd met at vacation bible school this summer called out called out his name, and they all started acting silly together.

All the parents gathered outside for a meeting with the director of religious education at our parish. The children's ministry building is new this year for our parish, it had previously been a preschool, but our church took it over and renovated it so our kids now have space for classes and activities. Sorely needed. Several years ago I volunteered to teach a 5th grade catechism class, and we met in what is now a storage closet.

So behind this new building is a big play area, with shade, and most importantly, fences. While the director addressed all the parents, our couple dozen preschoolers, too young for catechism, played 40 feet away on the playground, close enough to watch but far enough to not interrupt grownup conversation. Surrounded by fences, and supervised by a couple of confirmation students.

The director told us he'll be leading a bible study for parents here in the back yard of the ministry building during all classes, and plans for us all to bring our young ones to play just as they did yesterday. I know he's always led those bible studies before, but I never considered going because they were always crowded into some corner of the church, and I knew my two girls would not be able to sit and color or play quietly indoors like that.

But now! My girls were so happy playing, and I looked around at all the moms, and seriously, I was afraid I might start crying. I am so looking forward to Thursday evenings now. To have all of my kids happily engaged, while I get to be in basically the best Book club ever with other parents struggling with the same lifestyle as mine . . . what a blessing! What a bonus to bringing my kid to catechism!

Last night, I couldn't get Jimmy to tell me anything about what they talked about in his class. I tried, but he said he didn't really want to talk about it. I suspect he was still processing the new classroom, the new teacher, the kids, and the workbook. Maybe he is at a loss as to how to sum up the lesson for the day. (Also, he lost a tooth right at bedtime, and may have been preoccupied with thoughts of the tooth fairy coming.)

But I think he'll be happy to return next Thursday. I know I will be.

The Letterman/Palin Brouhaha

I saw the Letterman monologue joke about Sarah Palin's daughter and A-rod, and I didn't laugh. I just kind of shook my head in dismay.

When I heard Palin's public comments in response, I cringed a little for them. I feel their disgust, but I don't know that it helps to acknowledge or engage such a gross joke.

Letterman is an ass, and while many comedians say crasser, more offensive things than that, if Letterman was always like that, he wouldn't be on a network with the ratings he has. At least I hope he wouldn't.

I just think that there are some jokes that shouldn't be tolerated.

I do buy that the intended subject of the joke was Bristol and not the 14 year-old, but that just makes it inaccurate as well as offensive. And I don't care to discuss whether there is a double standard in how the media respects liberals versus conservatives.

I shook my head in dismay because I know there were likely at least a few pregnant 17-year-old, 18-year-old women watching that night who got the picture loud and clear that having a baby will make them a joke. That a pregant teenager loses all respect, and is called a slut to loud laughter and applause.

I've openly discussed my pro-life beliefs here before, and shared my skepticism of the usefulness of marches and placards and slogans in changing people's minds and influencing our cultural values.

Laughing at jokes like Letterman's absolutely influences our culture's values. What's worse is how that particular show may have directly influenced a pregnant teenage girl's choice this week.

I'll say it again and again, if pro-life advocates really want to save babies, they've got to help the mothers decide to keep their babies. And you do that with encouragement, with support, and with respect for the hard road young moms choose to walk, for the love of their babies.

Public and personal humiliation of teenage mothers? Is it really ok to laugh at that?

Thinking deeply (finally!) about Christmas

This has been a busy Christmas, and as usual, it has been in the days after that I've been able to spend some quality time with my kids, and my husband, just playing games, wrestling, dancing to the Jonas Brothers (Kid music that rocks! says Mary) and rocking my baby without feeling compelled to rush everything because there is too much to do.

After the kids were asleep tonight, I sat with some chocolate-covered Peppermint Joe-Joe's and a glass of wine and spent some quality time on the blogosphere. And it was while reading at Rocks in my Dryer that I think I finally had a moment to contemplate on Christmas. This post, Grace in a Manger, is an old one, from her archives while she takes a holiday break. I've got to share it, because it's sure to make you stop and think.

Christmas, I thought, was the cheery holiday that evoked images of a sweet baby Jesus, a manger full of fresh-smelling hay, joyful shepherds, a glorious star and a partridge in a pear tree.

The real theological meat was diced at Easter, I believed.  Easter was about blood, death, and victory won only through the harshest pain.  Easter was about sanctification and propitiation and all those other "-ation" words that my pastor is supposed to explain to me.And so, in my simple little head, Christmas was happy, Easter was hard. 

At Christmas, we could just sit back and not think too hard, sip our egg nog, and gaze at our happy little nativity scene in which Mary looks all clean and regal, not like a scared young teenager who just went through labor next to a cow.

It's easy to not think too hard about Mary, baby Jesus, and the manger. Even for those of us who go to church, and who teach our kids about the nativity, and who sing Silent Night. But thinking about Mary, in the hay, giving birth to a Savior . . . well, I am contemplating that tonight.

Hope's fourth birthday

I know I have been scarce on the blogosphere lately. I am just tired of repeating the same old complaints about hating the stress and mess of moving, and until more boxes are out the door, my tune stays the same. But today I've managed to be be not so pre-occupied, enough to bake a cake in honor of my daughter, Hope's, birthday. She would have been four years old today.

Each year we celebrate, I realize how infrequently I think of her now compared to our first year after her birth. I suppose that's just how it is. What is very interesting is how Jimmy and Mary ask us about her, and force us to think hard to come up with answers to their questions. It's . . . comforting to find each time that the simplest and best answer is just the truth.

We tell them Hope is with God, and Jesus loves her very much, and she is happy. Yes, we miss her very much. Yes, she had a boo-boo on her head. No, doctors couldn't fix it. Yes, she would probably like cake. Yes, it's ok if we eat it all for her.

 Happy Birthday Hope!

How do you teach a 4 year-old?

A couple of days ago we had my kids' best friends over for a playdate. My son had such a hard time sharing their toys this time! Not all the toys, just an apparently very special superman superman cape. Jimmy had such a tantrum when I took the cape from him, I had to lay him in the guestroom for a timeout, til he calmed down and could share. Even after that, he was reluctant rather than gracious, I guess you could say.

That night after our regular prayer time, when we say our regular prayers for our family, for the military, and for "all the babies in the bellies," I realized Jimmy was probably old enough to start praying some personal prayers. I told him that I understand it's hard to share, but that he can pray for God to help him get better at it. I told him God can help him with lots of things, that he can pray for God to help him learn t-ball, share with his friends, learn to read, God can even help him have patience with his sister. He seemed to be thinking about it. We'll see what happens a prayer time tonight.

Today they played with their friends again, and had a great time, no sharing problems at all. Of course, we weren't at home, with our toys at stake. But it went very well, and when we got home, Jimmy was thirsty and hungry. He tried getting some water in the kitchen and spilled it all over the floor, I handed him a bunch of paper towels, which he promptly wiped his hands on, tossed on the counter, and then he left to go play. I was too tired to chase him to come clean up, so I took the paper towels and wiped it myself.

A little later, we sat down to watch an episode of Kim Possible together while Mary napped, and Jimmy remembered he was hungry.

Jimmy: Mom, can you get me some food?

Me: (Choosing not to correct his style of asking) Sure, I suppose I can get you some food.

Jimmy: And while you are in there, you should clean up that big mess I made.

Me: Jimmy, first of all, you are talking really bossy to me, and that is not respectful. Kids don't tell grownups what they should do. Second, I already cleaned it up, but I shouldn't have. YOU should have cleaned it up!

Jimmy: But you know I don't like cleaning up big messes!

Me: I don't like cleaning up big messes either.

Jimmy: Well, you should pray about that, Mom.