the faith of a child

There comes a moment in every child’s life they make the actual choice - the choice of the Garden of Eden. Anyone who has ever had children knows that moment when your child does something they know is wrong. Say, spilling an entire sippy-cup full of juice on the carpet while they look you straight in the eye, grinning, ignore your increasingly frantic “no”’s.

Still, that is fairly minor, as toddlers and the very young are still learning the difference between right and wrong. They stay innocent for so short a time. One minute they are cooing into your face, the next, they are beating you at your own game.

My oldest child was full of energy from the womb. Before he was born he had earned the name “Thumper” from his constant activity. In fact, my sonogram with him lasted until after office hours, as he was moving around so much the sonographer had trouble getting accurate measurements. It ended with me fainting from being on my back so long!

After he was born, he was no different. As a newborn, he fought sleep with every ounce of strength he had. He would grudgingly fall asleep with one arm straight up in the air. Wait - this is genius! He did that so when he fell asleep, his arm would drop, hit him in the face, and wake him up! So as a newborn, he found a way to keep himself up and involved in his surroundings!

He is 9 1/2 years old now. He is this amazing mixture of energy, life, and deep spirituality; his favorite book of the Bible is Revelations; he loves babies and small children. He also inherited both his parents’ stubbornness!

The thing about the Garden of Eden was obedience and trust.  Adam and Eve were asked to obey God, to trust Him. God clearly laid out for them the situation. He showed them the trees, taking special care to point out in Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. On top of that, God made it clear what the consequences would be if they took the fruit and disobeyed - death. Even Supernanny would have to agree that God covered all the bases with his children.

Yet in the end, the Devil managed to tempt them. Tired of always obeying, Adam and Eve made a choice - they chose to do what they wanted, no matter what the results. Like many disobedient children since their time, they were caught. And like many of those children, they tried to deny it, talk their way out of it, to plead ignorance.

In His loving wisdom, God listened to them, heard them, and although He loved them dearly, He did what good parents everywhere try to do - follow through. Adam and Eve disobeyed, and the punishment was death. An exit from Eden. Now they knew, and now their lives would never be same.

My nine-year-old is normally a very obedient child. Usually.

One day my three boys were repeating a phrase over and over, much to my annoyance. Okay - they were saying “Big nuts”, but there were no innuendos meant. The middle boy had just misread something and thought it said “Big nuts” when it was “Big Lots”. Anyways, not only was I tired of hearing this phrase over and over, but I began to think that I needed to stop them in case they continued this out in public, where it might be seriously misconstrued. So, I asked the children to stop, in a firm, no-nonsense voice.

I returned to the next room, where one minute later I heard the chant continued. I marched back into the living room. I instructed them to look at me straight in the eye. When I had 2 brown eyes and 4 blues riveted on me, I informed the boys that they needed to stop, now. The oldest remarked, “Oh mom! We don’t mean that kind of big nuts!”. This let me know that eldest knew very well what this phrase could mean to some people. This called for more serious action. So, I told them that if I heard anyone say “Big Nuts” one more time, they would go immediately to bed (it was already 7pm, so it wasn’t that bad!). I told them to nod their heads if they understood. Three heads went up and down.

I left the room again. My oldest started to yelp and yell, so I asked him to go outside to play. He got up and headed for the back door. As he reached the door and I reached my bedroom, I heard a faint, under-the-breath, “Big Nuts” from this child. Now the choice was mine - I was tired and not ready for a fight, but this was a deliberate insult to my motherhood.

I called the erring child back, and told him I had heard what he said. He did not deny it. I then told him that he knew what the consequences were, and he was to head straight to bed. He turned, but the Snake began to whisper to him, and he stopped on the first stair. My precious child turned around, dug his heels in, looked from his blue eyes into mine, and said, “No”.

The “No” reverberated through the air like a struck gong. This was not the “no” of a toddler exploring boundried, nor the “no” of an overtired preschooler. This was “no” in all its power. The “No” of the Garden - I will not obey.

Of course, I told him, yes, he had to obey me, that he knew what would happen when he decided to disobey. He again hesitated, listened to the Snake, and replied again, “No! I won’t go and you can’t make me.” He was right. The kid comes up to my shoulders and wears the same shoe size as me. I can no longer pick him up and take him anywhere. I could not “make” him go.

We argued a while longer. I had to take it a step further. We had family coming in the next day, making the long trip from Minnesota to Texas, where they would stay with my mother, 5 miles from us. My boys were so excited, looking forward to seeing their cousins early the next morning. So, I calmly informed my eldest that he would not be seeing his cousins the next day. His face changed, crumpling as he felt the effects of his new punishment. He begged, pleaded, yelled, tears streaming down his face, begging for me to reconsider.

Oh, how I wanted to. What parent that loves can failed to be moved by sad tears from their child? Yet I knew that real love must be firm. The boy was upset because of the punishment, not for the disobedience. Well, needless to say that it was a long night. The next morning, when everyone was more calm, we sat down and talked. We talked of obedience and disobedience. We spoke of consequences - all people face them in life. Not just children, but moms who speed and get a ticket, dads who skip work for golf and get busted, children who tell their parents, “you can’t make me”…

He understood and even accepted his punishment now. He seemed sorry for what he had done - the thing in itself, not just the results of disobeying and getting caught. My husband stayed back with the repentant boy while the other two went with me to greet the family. We did relent, and brought our eldest to join the rest of the family at 4pm. All in all, long enough to hurt.

This will not be the last time this happens. Next time I won’t have a family visit to use as leverage. It will have to be something else. We all carry the Garden in us. This is what we call “original sin”; that tendency to dig our heels in and do what we know is wrong. To ignore those promptings of the Holy Spirit, to shut out that little voice in our head that is telling us to do what is right. Sometimes we just have to go our way, darn the consequences.

We just can’t grumble when God follows through.

Sometimes it is driven home to me the insane-ness of trying to explain unexplainable things.

I am currently working on a series of Bible reflections for children. Some I have already used in my own Religious Ed classroom, and the rest I try on my own guinea children. The one I am currently working on is a reflection on the Trinity.

As I endevour to write a simple reflection on the awesome mystery of the Trinity for 5-10 year olds, the irony of the situation hits me. I do not even understand the Trinity! The Catechism states “The Trinity is a mystery of faith in the strict sense, one of the “mysteries that are hidden in God, which can never be known unless they are revealed by God”" (CCC, n.237). That being said, it seems silly for me to try to explain it.

Parenthood in general is like that, isn’t it? A series of absurd tasks that no job description in the business world can compete with.

I love Allison Pearson’s book I Don’t Know How She Does It (Alfred A. Knopf, 2002), about overworked, confused mom and businesswoman Kate Reddy. While not morally squeaky-clean, the book has so much humor and reality in it, I alternately laugh and cry every time I read it.

I love the part where Kate’s daughter, Emily, questions her about God, Jesus, and death. Kate reflects,

“Emily’s questions often shock me, but not as much as the fact that I’m allowed to give her any answer I like. I can tell her there is a God or that there is not a God, I can tell her Oasis were better than Blur, although by the time she’s old enough to buy albums there won’t be albums anymore and Madonna will be as distant as Haydn . I can tell her that Cary Grant is in a dead heat for the title of Greatest Englishman with William Shakespeare, I can encourage her to support a football team, or I can tell her sport is incredibly boring, I can advise her to be careful who she gives her virginity to or I can give her brisk early advice on contraception. I can suggest she start paying a quarter of her annual income into an index-linked pension as soon as possible or I can tell her love is the answer. I can tell her any damn thing I like, and that freedom feels both amazing and appalling.” (pp. 202-203)

It is so true. A world full of information that we, as parents, are the filter for. At least for a while. Because that is the whole point, isn’t it. There comes a time when we are no longer interpreting the world for our children. They do it on their own.  Hopefully we can teach them how to see for themselves through all the muck, mire, and lies that are out there.

All that being said - it is time for me to go attempt the impossible. Explaining the Trinity or raising children? Perhaps, both.

No, not the spiritual kind! I mean material gifts at the moment! Just wanted to share 2 great sites for gifts, espeically if you are looking for something other than Bibles and books. I mean, I love Bibles and books both, but sometimes you want a gift that is just different.

Beads of Mercy - offers unique rosaries, chaplets, and bracelets. The designs vary, and are usually fashioned after a saint, Our Lady, the Holy Spirit, and so on. Personally, I would love one of everything ever made there! There is usually ony one or two of each design available, but custom orders are accepted if you find one you like that has already sold. (I love the st. Theresa of Avila rosaries and the Mother’s Rosary after Mother Teresa).

 Full of Grace Spirited Shopping - a team of two moms began this site, and what a fun place to shop! Jewelery, crosses, clothes, and other items are available. These are so fun, and appeal to a wide age range. I love the Antique Bracelet with Mary medals - a friend wore this once, and it was so cute! Some of the crosses are so pretty, and would really appeal to kids.

Great news, moms! Apparently retirement is possible, but only on certain conditions.

• Moms ”lay” children. If they ”lay” only sons, they are out of luck
• Moms with daughters just have to wait a while. They have to be moms until the daughters grow up. Then, the daughters take over mom’s job, and the mom has to go away and do something else.
• Daughters grow up when they can drive, around 16

This theory is courtesy of Romeo, age 5. He informed us of this last night at dinner (along with demonstrating the proper way to bow if you are face-to-face with God (right foot behind, deep knee bend, left hand on chest, head bowed)).

With 3 boys, I am so out of luck! But congrats to those of you with daughters!

Little Romeo has always a a penchant for catalogues. When he was smaller (like 3), he would carry them around in his always grubby hands until they fell apart. While he is past that stage, he still loves looking at them. In fact, they are sometimes his preferred storytime reading.

However, catalogues would be better than some of the books I have to read out loud! Romeo loves Bionicles. As he is still learning to read, Mom or Dad gets the privilege of reading these masterpieces to him. There are a few recognizable words in there, but not many. The sentences rarely make sense to me. They go something like this:

The Linaya crossed the river. He took his gilgen out and looked through the blotyod. At last, he had found the sacred Ilkinofis. The Linaya, Rochor, swung out on his portable wunti to the far bank. He reached for the Ilkinofis, but before his fingers closed upon its molten surface, a sudden noise made him turn. His dreaded enemy, Yitere, had found him!

Painful, isn’t it?! Oh, the joys of parenthood!

This evening at Mass (yes - I know it was Saturday…it counts! I already had to explain this once to my son today, who reminded us that God wanted us to go to church on Sunday, his holy day, not Saturday!)  Anyways.. oh, yes! This evening at Mass, our priest, Fr. Tony, gave an excellent homily on the need to pray for vocations.

It is something you really do not hear much anymore, at least not out loud. Mentioning needing more vocations is a dangerous thing. It can get you lynched, man.

Fr. Tony rightly pointed out that the only way to fix the vocation crisis here in America is to quit griping about the state of the church, the hierarchy, your own diocese, your parish priest, or whatever your particular beef with the church is, and become part of it. If we do not pray for vocations, and encourage our own children to consider them, the problem will only get worse.

Brave words, Fr. Tony. I hope you brought your helmet and bullet-proof vest, because it can get ugly when you speak out that way. I know, I have heard it before!

Several years ago I worked in our parish as the Coordinator of Religious Education, overseeing the religious ed program for grades 1-5. My main responsibility was to work with the 200+  catechist volunteers. That year the Diocese of Dallas had appointed its first Vocations Director, and he was going around speaking at each parish, introducing himself and giving a plug for vocations. Fr. Michael was youngish, energetic, and funny. I thought he did a great job telling what a vocation was and explaining it in in interesting way, that was far from pushy. However, he did say, “Pray for more vocations. Encourage your children to consider one.”

I was witness to the ferocious backlash the next day. The catechist volunteers arrived 30 minutes before the Monday sessions began, and came into the office to get their supplies. I was on duty, helping answer last minute questions about class that day .

“Can you believe that priest yesterday?” one woman sneered.

“Oh my gosh! The nerve!” another answered. “How dare he tell us to pray that our own children have a vocation.”

“Yes,” chimed in a third, “who does he think he is? He is just crazy if he thinks I will ever let my son become a priest!”

And on and on and on went this conversation, involving about ten different people all in various stages of apoplectic shock.

I myself felt rooted to the ground. The anger was actually palpable. All you had to do was reach out in the air and you would touch it. Now, I understand that the Church is not perfect. I understand, especially in the Diocese of Dallas, a bad priest scandal was not far behind at the time. I understand the idea of being celibate for life terrifies most people, but still!

Fr. Michael was, at the time, quite young, and Fr. Tony is only in his 30’s. They would be the first to admit the life of a priest has pluses and minuses. However, they are such a great advertisement for the church. They are happy - happy, people - which is what we all wish for our children.

Neither one suggested that all boys should become priests. No, what they said, and what the Church urges, is to find the vocation that God has given you. God calls each person to walk a way of life. We must be open to each path - marriage, single-hood, or religious life. If we aren’t, then we may not find where God truly wants us to be. And (for all you devil’s advocates out there) what if a person’s call is religious life but they aren’t Catholic, and do not know about religious life. Can they ever truly be happy? Of course! God never counts it against it when we do not know something, unless we deliberately close our eyes to it. (He usually just gets us to where we need to be!)

And that is what the church in America is so guilty of - closing its eyes to the vocation shortage. People who profess to be faithful Catholics refuse to even discuss the possibility of vocations with their children. They just hope someone else does that. With someone else’s children, of course.

It isn’t like marriage is so easy or ideal, anyways. Look at the high rate of divorce, for one. For another, living a life with another person is extremely difficult. And parenthood is a beautiful thing, but it is no picnic. So, the married life is full of pain and hardship, as well as bliss and joy.

The whole point is - what does God call you, or your children, to? We must pray for our children’s vocations, whatever they may be. We need to talk about the religious life with them, just as we discuss being a doctor or teacher or plumber. In this age of information, and if we want to be the “be-fair-to-all-people-” people we claim to be, then we Catholics need to start talking about vocations with our children.

“Why don’t you order for me,” she asks sweetly, looking at him with trust.

“Sure,” he replies, feeling the adventure of choosing an entree for his beloved kick-start his deep-down hunter, he-man core.

He peruses the restaurant menu with attention. Roasted chicken with fresh tomatoes and feta cheese - she loves chicken! Bingo!

“Well?” she inquires as he sets the menu down in triumph.

He tell her his choice.

“Really,” she states in a quizzical voice, one eyebrow raised higher than the other.

He falters for a moment. He knows that look - the quiet skepticism, the voiceless surprise. It is A Look. One that sets all his alarms off. Something is wrong. He mentally reviews the entree ingredients, knowing something seemed to displease her. Chicken…check, she loves chicken. Tomatoes? He has personally witnessed her eating them on several occasions. Feta cheese - ahhhh, that must be it. Does she dislike it, or is she on some diet where she avoids cheese? He cannot remember for the life of him. And he does suddenly feel as this might come down to his life, one way or another.

He grabs the menu again, announcing, “I think I might look a little longer.”

“Good idea,” she comments coolly.

Then it hits him. This is no simple romantic request, no affirmation of his manliness. She wants him to choose her meal as….. A Test! Sweat beads his forehead. If he chooses wrong, he loses. If he backs out, he loses. The chances of him winning are slipping away under the hot glare of his beloved, who now sense his panic as a lion sniffs the scent of a gazelle in the air.

He must choose…

Men in relationships hate tests. Whether it is from a girlfriend of two months or a wife of twenty years, men are wary of anything that reeks of a love test. “Unfair!” is the cry! “You are testing me!”

Men - listen up! Stop complaining that the special woman in your life tests you. Of course she does!

The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines a test as

“a critical examination, observation, or evaluation :  specifically : the procedure of submitting a statement to such conditions or operations as will lead to its proof or disproof or to its acceptance or rejection”.

In other words, tests prove something. Most things in life involve tests of one kind or another.

 In order to enter college and grad school, I had to prove myself in various tests.  Tests were expected and were necessary. I did not know which questions would and would not be on these tests. I had to be prepared in many subjects and many topics. I did not take it personally. There were no accusations on my part, no cries of foul play. These schools have standards and I had to prove myself to them.

I gained admission to these institutions, but the tests did not end there. On no! On the contrary, tests continued at regular intervals throughout my time in those hallowed halls. Sometimes I knew what would be expected, sometimes I did not. It required a lot of work to be ready for these tests. Again, I did not turn my nose up at my professors. I did not approach them and exclaim, “You don’t trust me, do you? If you trusted me, you would not be testing me!”  No, instead I read, re-read, wrote, memorized, and prayed real hard.

School is not the only place tests are given. Any job comes with tests on an almost daily basis. These tests come in the form of projects, sales, products, angry customers, bosses, and so forth.

Even faith comes with tests. Constant tests, if my relationship with God is any indication!

James 1:2-4 says, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”

See? Testing is necessary for maturity. We do not grow without a measure of of progress, without challenge to what has become routine.

Proverbs 17:3 states: “The refining pot is for silver and the furnace for gold, But the LORD tests hearts.”

Even God gives tests.

Not that we women want to see our men fail (not usually, anyways). Instead, we are looking for proof - tangible proof that he still cares enough to study us, our likes, dislikes, habits, hopes, dreams. You know, little stuff like that. Most of us will settle for proof that he remembers the habits we have always had - forget the new stuff! If after ten years of marriage (not to mention all those other years of dating and such), your husband brings you home a giant candy bar filled with almonds, it makes you wonder. Not that you don’t appreciate the gesture, or the knowledge that he thought about you - you can see that. However, you have stated emphatically many times throughout the entire relationship that you do not care for nuts at all. How could he forget now? So, yes, he thought about you, but how hard? (and no, this has nothing to do with my life at all…nothing…nope…not a darn thing…..)

If there is any consolation, it is that we women test ourselves constantly. Every day is fraught with the little tests we give ourselves. For example:

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF AN AVERAGE WOMAN

DAILY GOALS:

1. Do all 12 loads of laundry
2. Write that novel
3. Cook a delicious, made-from-scratch meal, regardless of the fact that my cooking skills go no further than Swanson frozen Lasagna
4. Interact with all children in a positive, esteem-enhancing, creative way
5. Scrub house from top to bottom
6. Create successful from-home business
7. Sew new couch cushions and slip-cover (even though I have no sewing machine)
8. Greet husband with smile and kiss when he enters and serve him delicious, made-from-scratch meal
9. Bathe all children, read nourishing bedtime story, say prayers, and tuck each one in with smile and kiss
10. Clean kitchen and prepare for morning
11. Wear that special something to bed (with enthusiasm!)

If we get one or two of our crazy expectations even half-way met, that is great accomplishment. So, you see men, in the end we are much harder on ourselves than we will ever be on you.

Tests of love are no different than any other test in life, be it school, faith or work. Love must prove itself over and over. The trick here is “proving”. If you do not know what test you are taking, you are in trouble. Know your beloved. Listen to those little pearls she drops every day about herself, what she likes and dislikes. Prove to her you listen. Did she mention how hungry she has been for strawberries? Bring her some, even if it is the middle if December and you have to pay $8 for a pint at the local organic grocery store. After all, what is $8 in your relationship? She will know what you did, and what you spent in time and money will be more than made up for in love currency.

However, like any other grade, love has degrees. It takes much more work to pass when you have a 20 average than if you have a 59. So, if you have neglected your spouse studies lately, you might have to “prove” a lot more than the person who keeps up pretty regularly.

Study up, be prepared, do extra-projects on your own, and pray. Chances are if you do these things on a regular basis, you will have no problem getting on the Dean’s List of your wife’s heart!

Yes, apparently I have managed to kill yet another family pet.

The first was the guinea pig about three years ago. I accidentally fed it grass from the front lawn, which we had sprayed for bugs the day before. Without even thinking, I pulled some grass for Baby (the guinea pig) and left it in his dish. An hour later - dead as a doorknob. I felt terrible, but could never bring myself to tell the kids why he was dead. Who wants to admit they are a pet killer?

Today, it is my son’s parakeet. I am not totally sure, but I think I did it again. The bird, Randy, seemed happy and in good health. My son is not - he has a terrible cough. I decided to put a humidifier in his room so he could sleep, and placed some Vaporub humidifier solution in it for extra help. Now I am thinking that the Vaporub may have not been a good thing for the bird to breath in.

Poor kiddo - my son is so upset. Lots of tears. He really took good care of his bird. I never had to do anything.

It is a life lesson that everyone has to learn - living things die. When we open our hearts to love, we do so at great risk. To love requires that we become vulnerable. Our hearts must open in order to let others in, and in order to show our love. Opening our hearts to love also means opening our hearts to a number of hurts - rejection, misunderstanding, and yes, the pain of losing those we love.

As much as we would like to protect our children from loss, we cannot. They, like all others, must endure this pain. Our job is to help them see the hope even in the face of loss.

I just wish I wasn’t the Angel of Pet Death in our house!

In our house, there are just some words inherently funny to boys. All…by…themselves.

Saying any of these words in a normal conversation produces instant giggles, chuckles, and snorts from the too-young-to-drive set.

Can you spot the common thread in these words?

1. tutor
2. Pupitar (a Pokemon)
3. Butter
4. Peanut Butter
5. nincompoop
6. hot dog weiner 
7. halibut

Yeah, my life is just one big laugh factory!

Summer has arrived. Oh, I know it is not here officially, by the calendar at least. However, all the necessary ingredients are in place:

1. School is out
2. It is hot
3. My kids are bored

Ergo, summer is here.

Summer in Texas is my least favorite season. It is hot. So hot that eventually, in another month, we will barely venture outside. Summer starts as early as March and lasts until October arrives. A long, long time.

My kids are already perpetually bored. It didn’t help that I was sick for a month, and they have been entertaining themselves that whole time. Now that I am recovering, I must face the task of how to get three kids through a long summer.

Every other kid in our area seems to have a full schedule already. “Oh, this week we do VBS, then he goes to camp, then we go on vacation”; “I have them signed up for swimming, art classes, nature time at the museum, and then they visit their grandparents for the month of July”. And so on.

Problem - all this takes money, of which we have enough to pay bills and buy groceries. I used to get some outside work singing at church, but that had dried up this year, much to my confusion.  My money went to the kids - classes, books, outings. It was never much, but it counted. Now, we are forced to rely on our own creativity!

It is a little lonely, though. With many of their friends in classes and activities we cannot afford, there are few playmates around. We will probably manage a playdate here and there.  I will begin work on their “100 Things to Do When I Am Bored” lists, and urge them to consult frequently.

Some things are free, though. The library is free and air conditioned, so we will get very comfortable there. Our neighbors’ peach trees are ripe, and we can have all that hang over into our driveway. We have been picking, and plan to make a peach pie! And thank goodness laughter is free, and so is love. I know we need more of both of those!