the faith of a child

One more day of VBS! The adults are looking tired, the kids are wired!

Oldest son had his first kiss at VBS! The girl is one year younger than him, and has had a crush on him all year. They shared a kiss at the closing session yesterday. He was suitably in awe of this momentous occasion.

Romeo is living up to his name. I am in charge of preschool and Kindergaren Bible time. The boys were in my room this morning as I set up. One of the little girls walked by, so I called out ‘Good morning’ to her. She waved and walked by.

“That is one of  my new girlfriends,” Romeo announced.

Girlfriends, at VBS? Why was I surprised?

Later that day, Romeo and his Kindergarten group came back to my room for Bible time. We did our lesson and had a few minutes left over. Romeo jumped in my arms for a little cuddle. He told me about his day so far, then wiggled out of my grasp.

“Look, Mom,” he smiled as he unzipped the pouch around his neck that serves the duel purpose of nametag and Bible Buddy holder. Romeo pulled out a slip of paper. I read on one side, in large, unsteady blue letters, “Dear (Romeo)”. On the other side, I saw a girl’s name, address, and phone number.

So even during VBS, under direct adult supervision, my five-year-old is collecting phone numbers and hearts!

True to form, middle child is happy to make friends and have fun. His biggest triumph is not melting down until today. Poor kiddo - he gets overwhelmed by loud noises and noisy crowds. So far, he has handled VBS well. Today, with a t-shirt wet from games, he got cold in the air-conditioned gym. Add to that the noise of 250 wild kids, he finally had enough.

All in all, I am glad there is one more day!

Yes, it is the week of Vacation Bible School in my parish. After a two year break, because I totally burned out, we are back at VBS. The boys are thrilled. I am carrying my tired, virus-ridden body around, teaching Bible time to preschool and Kindergarten.

I have learned two things at VBS:

1. Paper-bag “stone” walls built to resemble the city of Jericho will be knocked down..and thrown…and fallen on….and kicked. Whether you are ready for them or not.
2. Be careful what you ask, because there is no predicting what the children will answer.

For example, my second group of preschoolers came into Bible time. I forgot to look at the schedule to see what activity they had just attended, so I decided to just ask them.

“So, where did you guys come from?” I asked in my most chirpy, happy-camper VBS voice.

One little girl raised her hand, so I called on her.

“Well,” she began solemnly, “I come from Texas, but then we moved to Canada, then we just came back to Texas. A few days ago I was on an airplane with my dad, and now…here I am!”

Not quite what I was expecting, but a thorough answer nonetheless!

Today I asked a group who was the strongest person they knew. God, was of course, what they all shouted. Why, I asked? Because He made us, one answered. “And dogs,” shouted another. “And skunks”, “Worms”, “Butterflies”, “Cats”, and “Giraffes”!

What do you get when you mix a bunch of tired adults, a few over-worried, stressed leaders, and loud, sweaty, happy kids - VBS, of course!

With three boys, I am understandably interested in sports.

Neither my husband nor I are what you would call “athletic”.  After growing up with a father and two brothers who were sports addicts, it was refreshing to marry a man whose dinner was not ruined by a loss of the local football team. However, after the birth of boy #3, it was time to become more familiar with the whole wide world of sports. The matter was clinched when our oldest child, aged five at the time, cheered on the “hockey puck” while watching a football game at his grandmother’s house! With great boys comes great responsibility.

Our children have since participated in baseball teams, soccer teams, karate, gymnastics, swimming lessons, PE, and have a basketball goal in the backyard.  Progress! We have attended my nephew’s football games and cheered the local minor league baseball team at their fabulous stadium munching on over-priced hotdogs. Perhaps the biggest change has been our family’s interest in our area NBA team. For the last two years we have attended a few games in person, and watched the rest on tv. The boys know the names of all the players on “our” team and proudly wear their jerseys. We cheered all year as they played an awesome regular season (but we do not like to talk about the play-offs…oh, no we do not).

One thing becomes increasingly clear - an abyss separates youth sports from the world of professional sports.

Youth sports is touted as a way to build character in our children. Through sports participation, children learn not only basic sport skills, but also character building, self-esteem, sportsmanship, and discipline. For the most part, bad behavior is not tolerated. Parents who brawl are ejected. Players who lose their temper are benched. Many organizations have both parents and children sign a code of conduct that requires good behavior of young athletes and their families.

Now contrast that to the world of professional sports. Have you seen it lately? Take the recent case of Elijah Dukes, the Tamps Devil Rays center/left fielder. He was recorded on voice-mail threatening to kill his wife. His punishment? Nothing - at least nothing from the world of baseball. Why? The kid has talent and perhaps the ability to make a lot of money for his team. You see, in the world of professional sports, talent trumps character.

Or consider all the scandal over steroid use in both baseball and cycling. Or Atlanta Falcon’s quarterback Michael Vick and apparent involvement in big-time illegal dog-fighting and betting. His team’s response - “No comment”. Or basketball’s Kobe Bryant, who is praised to the skies for his playing, despite having an attitude problem and run-ins with the law.

Sadly, the list of professional athletes who have been in trouble for drug use, DUI, DWI, fighting, domestic disputes, and so on grows on and on. These men and women are paid an astronomical amount of money to play a game. And that is all they are being required to do. Play and play well. Character is not rewarded in the world of sports. If you got it, great. If not, don’t worry, it isn’t necessary.

Team owners, coaches, and others in charge are only required to punish poor performance, not poor behavior. Fines for trashy mouths and bad tempers handed down during the NBA play-offs this year are a great example. Fines are a slap on the wrist to professional athletes. Yes, losing $25,000 sounds like it would hurt, and to us mere mortals it would. For athletes, however, it is merely a playful swat on the behind. It all boils down to money, of course. If you can perform well, and bring in money to the team, you are a successful athlete.

So, that leads us back to youth sports. We expect more out of our children than we do of grown-ups when it comes to sports. “Be nice”, “Play fair”, “Be a good sport”, “No trash talking”, “Go out there and shake hands”, “Winning isn’t everything”. We preach these mantras to our kids, yet allow paid professional athletes to do as they wish, as long as they win.

The saddest thing, though, is that kids are not stupid. They are usually the first to notice hypocrisy. They have to play by the rules; they have no choice. However, they have their eyes on their ‘heroes”. They see how the game is really played, what you have to do to get ahead, what is necessary to get the spot-light.  

College sports long ago was infected by the nasty sports virus. Bribes and bad behavior of college athletes constantly make the news. It has also trickled down into high school sports. Steroid testing is now becoming more and more common even at this level. Again, bad behavior often makes headlines.

Don’t get me wrong - there are good athletes out there who are truly good people. Athletes of character, who are good role-models to youth and good examples of what a good sport is. Unfortunately, they are a dying breed. Or at the very least, unrecognized and under-valued.

Either way, the double-standard in sports needs to be fixed. Either allow our children to play like their adult counterparts, throwing fits, yelling at refs, and breaking the law. Or, demand more of so-called “grown-up” professional athletes - no breaking the law, no temper tantrums on the field, no drug use. Which would you rather see?

Unless you become like a little child….

My oh my! Day 11 of a severe headache and day 8 of fever - the doctor has ruled it is some mysterious flu-like virus . For now, life is on hold. The dust bunnies are thrilled with their reprieve. I am, however, in the midst of hauling myself around to do some laundry. When one child came downstairs in his bathing suit (his only available pair of shorts), and I heard myself advising another child just to wear dirty socks, I knew something would have to be done.

 Thanks be to God that my mom and a friend have been able to take the boys some. Good for them and for me. Moms get little time off when sick.

My oldest son, aged 9, has been reading to me from my prayer book a little every day, bless his heart.

Thanks for checking in. Say a prayer for me, and soon I will be writing again!

Parents, no matter how they try to refrain, cannot help but dream of their children’s future. Painting pictures of glorious lives of love, happiness, and fulfillment, parents hope for the best.

My children are already thinking about their futures. Some, like little Romeo (youngest child), more than others.

Romeo has a whole list of things to be when he grows up. I know, because I acted as his secretary as he dictated said list to me. Five years on this earth has put  lot of ambitions in ths boy’s head. Among them are:

1. “Chef (already known for his famous recipe of pasta, cut-up hot dogs, and ketchup)
2. Swimmer
3. Baseball player
4. Football player (like cousin Peter)
5. artist
6. Build a house
7. Open up people’s bodies who are already dead, using snippers. Then, draw their insides, like Leonardo da Vinci.”

Romeo dreams of college, where he hopes to “work all of the day and part of the night”, studying the insides of fish and humans.

Go, Romeo!

Middle child, the more serious, analytical one, is sure he will be an artist. That is all he wants. He s like a hawk circling prey when his dad is working on the computer. You see, dad is a graphic artist, and sometimes brings his work home. When he does so, middle son hovers over his shoulder. I am convinced he will be operating his own business in 10 years.

Oldest child shared his ambitions with me last week:

“Mom, when I grow up, I want to be a cashier. But if that doesn’t work out, I hope to be a vetrinarian or an electrician”.

So you see, we are reaching for the stars, here!

What do I want? I am not sure. I see their gifts and hidden potential. What they can be is endless. Most of all, I want them to know God. If they follow Him, they will be all they should.

I love the movie “Millions”, about a little boy with a great spiritual sense. Damian is 7, and has experienced the death of his mother. He finds a large amount of money, and struggles with what to do with it. Throughout it all, Damian is visited by saints. To Damian, the spiritual world is very real, so real that there is no oddity in St. Peter making a personal appearance in Damian’s room.

Towards the end of the movie, Damian meets his mother, as one of the saints. He is so glad to see her, but cannot understand what she did in her ordinary life that places her among the company of the likes of St. Claire and St. Joseph. He asks her what miracle she did in life, to merit company with the saints. She answers (may not be exact, because I loaned my copy of the movie out), “Don’t you know? My miracle was you.”

Gets me every time…. My children are the miracle of my life. No matter what they do or accomplish in life, their very being is a miracle I witness every day.

Life just does not get better than that.

Monday, Monday…..Mondays are rough, so I thought you all deserved a treat. Here is an excerpt, taken with permission by the author, of son #3’s novel-in-progrss, “Monkeys Will Rule the World”. (And it is under copyright, so no plagiarism, please!)

“One day a little boy went for a walk all by himself. Then he saw some monkeys. The monkeys started to run after the boy. Then the boy runned away.

Then the little boy said, “AHHHHHHHH”!

Then the monkeys finally caught the boy. The monkeys took the boy to their lab and turned him into a MONK-BOT. A monk-bot is a robot monkey.

Once he was turned into a monk-bot, he had to do whatever the monkeys said. The monkeys told him to get all the people. Then he brought all the people, but he forgot one little boy.”

Oh, yes……there is much more!  Not a shabby story for a 5-year-old! He does indeed come up with all this himself. All I do is write what he tells me!

I guess you could say, like mother, like son. After all, homeschooling means the kids share most of the hours of the day with me. They see me write, hear me talk writing, and sometimes they actually read through things for me.

So it should be no surprise that they show some of the same tendencies themselves. Oldest son could be an author one day. He makes up stories constantly, slipping away to his room to tell them to himself when the spirit moves him. One problem: he hates to actually write. He is only nine, though, so I will give him time. Today he came up with a corker of an idea - a story about rabbits who rule the world, robots, and lots of exciting adventures. Can’t say more, because I do not want to give his story away! If he ever writes it out, I will let you know!

Not to be outdone, youngest son is actually in the process of producing his second novel. The first was entitled “St. John and the Dragon” and was a big hit when read at preschool show-and-tell. He dictated, I obediently wrote, and then he finished up with all original illustrations.

His current project is entitled “Monkeys Who Rule the World”, and so far is a thrilling adventure of a little boy, a group of bad monkeys, and the boy’s brother, who was sadly captured by the monkeys and turned into a half-boy/half-robot named Monk-Bot Boy. Again, he dictates and I write. However, for this project he is collaborating with artist Dad for the illustrations.

Middle child so far is happy to just read and leave the writing to others.

Stay tuned…….

It is shocking, really. We discover more of the truth every day. Every little piece is another surpise.

First, it was the announcement of a fiancee. The next week we found there was another girlfriend on the side.

Now we have discovered there are about five girls, all told. None know about the others.

Yes, our five year old is a Lothario-in-training, some kind of babe magnet.

One day at dinner he calmly announced that he had asked a girl at preschool to marry him, and she had said yes. Hubby and I tried to not choke on our pizza as we turned towards our youngest son. Apparently, these two had liked one another for a while, so he decided to “make it official”. Now, we have no objections to the girl. Actually, she is ideal - cute, sweet, from a wonderful family. It was just the suddeness of it all. So unexpected.

The following week I watched the two “betrothed” play together, sharing secret smiles. Later, my son came up to me. He sweetly whispered in my ear, “There is my other girlfriend”, pointing to yet another preschool vixen.

“What about C?” I asked him. “Aren’t  you going to be married?” (and does she know about the other girl, I thought)

“Yes,” he replied, looking at me as if I were crazy to think one girl cancelled out the other.

A few days later, I took him to his swimming lesson. The five children in the class are all preschoolers. For 30 minutes, they must listen to Mr. Justin and practice the skills they learn. When class was done, I took my son to the family locker room, where he showered and dressed. As we left through the lobby, one of the little girls from class waved at my son.

“She is my girlfriend now, too,” he said, with a smile I suspected contained a touch of smugness. “I asked her during class.”

Girlfriend! I witnessed the whole class. There was no time for hanky-panky there. Boy, this kid not only racks them up, but he works fast, too!

Somehow, I have given birth to Romeo, romantic and swoon-able. He seems pleased by all the women in his life. I have no idea how he comes by it. His father and I were neither one big daters in our day. I knew boys like my son, though. I always wondered how they could have so many girls strung along.

Nor could he have picked it up on television, because he never sees anything like that. His two brothers have had no more than friendships with girls. He is homeschooled, so school is not an issue.

That leaves me to believe he was just born that way. Scary. My five-year-old is collecting girls the other boys collect rocks or dinosaurs.

One positive thing - he does believe he is too young to get married. He will wait until he is 18.

The three boys and I arrived home from Religious Ed classes last night tired and hungry. Hubby and I dredged the bottom of the pantry and managed to find something for dinner. However, when the boys poured the last drop of milk into their cereal bowls this morning, I had to admit defeat - it was time to go to the grocery store.

Between homeschooling and writing, my housewifely skills suffer. Laundry is always a heoric effort. I whip the loads in and out of the machines between using the stair-stepper and making dinner. (when I say “whip”, I mean at a lightning speed of doing about 1 load per day, which roughly means laundry 7 days a week… and when I say “use” the stair-stepper, I mean step over it…and when I say “make” dinner, I mean heating chicken nuggets in the microwave).

Cooking also has a pretty low priority - by 4pm, after a full day of teaching and writing and whatever-else-had-to-be-done-that-day, the last thing I want to do is prepare a meal for an hour. Especially when it takes the 4 males in the family about ten minutes to demolish it. Besides, I gave up trying to really cook when I realized that my husband’s comment to my home-made stuffed pork chops and dressing was, “That was nice”; the following night when I served frozen pizza, he could not stop raving about the delicious meal. I mean, why fight nature?

Thinking ahead to plan meals for five people for a week takes a certain amount of time and preparation (plus having to plan alternate meal choices for the 7-year-old life-long vegetarian - the kid wouldn’t even eat the chicken-flavored baby food as an infant). Then, there is the actual trip to the store in itself.

There was a time I was not allowed to do the grocery shopping. My husband actually forbid it. Oldest boy was 4 and 1/2, middle was 2 1/2, and youngest was about seven months. I have vague recollections of what led up to the shopping-ban, but they have a nightmare-like flavor to them. First, I had to use one of the big, shopping carts that have the added section on front to seat children - the 18-wheeler of shopping carts. You can easily take out a display stand of baked beans if you lack the engineering skills needed to turn it at the correct angle into the next aisle.

Oldest and middle sons each sat in the extra seats. Middle child was still little, so I had to strap him in tight. Oldest was so active, I had to strap him even tighter. Baby went in the cart, facing his brothers.

Middle child was at the stage where he greeted all life’s adventures by crying (this period occupied the first three years of his life. When he woke up, he cried. Hungry - cried. Stranger looked at him - cried.) So, the entire shopping trip, he fussed - he didn’t want to be there, baby was kicking him, big brother was touching him. In the meantime, baby had learned a new game - how many things can I throw out of the cart when Mom turns her back to get something off the shelf? It took me a while to catch onto this game. I actually thought I was going crazy for a while - I mean, I knew I had already put chips in the cart. I could remember it clearly, but there was no evidence they had ever existed. I happened to turn around and catch baby chucking loaves of bread and apples into the aisle. Oldest child said solemnly, “Yeah, he has been doing that for a while”. Meantime, middle child had switched from fussing to howling. Oldest had to use the bathroom every 15 minutes.

I think the trip took about two hours (finding the missing groceries was like a scavenger hunt around the store. Baby had a good arm!), all the store employees hated me, and I went home in tears. At that point, Hubby said there was no way I needed that stress in my life, and he would do the shopping for now, dear man.

Those day are in the past now. Baby is five, all three children are capable of walking (even though you wouldn’t know it to see them at the grocery store. You would think they were on mile 20 of a 50 mile forced march). However, trips to the grocery store are always a roll of the dice. Some days they are no problem, some days they are glimpses of life in the fiery here-after.

I guess I should have known when I made sure I had five minutes of morning prayer this morning. After all, the Evil One knows how to attack us where we are weakest. I prayed, we went shopping.

What followed was 45 minutes of pain. Oldest child, now nine, started acting goofy right off. Younger two were a little too playful. I also made the COLOSSAL mistake of trying to make it part of our schooltime. After all, the grocery store offers many mathematical opportunities. So, I made up math problems using the items on the shelf (like, “If two loaves of bread cost $4, how much will I spend if I buy 4 loaves?”). My children reacted like they did not know what “numbers” meant, much less being able to even count to 10. Feeling like the biggest failure in homeschooling ever, and seriously regretting dragging three kids to the grocery store, I took a deep breath and fought the urge to sit down and cry in the cereal aisle.

I gave up.

We are home now. Groceries were bought, brought home, and put away. I poured my self a nice tall glass of soda, sampled a piece of cinnamon bread, and here I am writing - cheap therapy.

I guess I should breath a sigh of relief that the grocery shopping is done. For this week.

I was so excited today to find a really great book available in e-book format. Apparently it is public domain now. I am speaking of Robert Hugh Benson’s Lord of the World. I originally discovered this book in the library of the Dominican House of Studies in Washington, D.C., where my grad school was located. I devoured it, checking it out multiple times in the two years I had access to it.

Benson (1871-1914) was an Anglican priest who converted to Catholicism after a long interior journey. He wrote many books on various topics, from children’s books to devotionals to works of fiction. his fiction included both historical fiction and science fiction.

Lord of the World is considered “science fiction”, but today sits comfortably in the same category as the popular Protestant “Left Behind” series. (Well, except the fact that Left Behind would probably be very unhappy to sit in the same category as a Catholic end-times book, but that is another issue…) The book is an “end-times” story of great insight, interesting historical prespective (being written in the early 20th century), and best of all, full of excitement!

If you have never read it, treat yourself! You can find it for free e-reading at Project Gutenberg, or at Authorama.