Year: 2014 (Page 34 of 37)

Spraying our fears

In the middle of the night, H boy has repeatedly woke me up to express his fear of whatever seemed to cross his mind. Most recently, something under the bed. He asked me to get “the spray.” 

Some genius mom out there on Pinterest developed monster spray, something to squirt to get the scary things out: 
I’m not the high-performing mom, however, so the first time we encountered the “under the bed” fears I simply rummaged around in the closet until I found something. For instance, hearing aid cleaner. (For reals). 
Our monster spray looks like this:
(Please don’t tell our audiologist that I’ve actually not ever used it for the intended purpose.) 
So, this particular night the boy woke me from my slumber in authentic fear and pleaded for “the spray.” I faithfully fumbled through the closet and sprayed the whatever chemicals under his bed. His face gave way to immediate relief. 
I don’t believe that he actually believes the spray kills off any monsters. (He probably doesn’t know it’s hearing aid cleaner, either. Until he learns to read.) I think he and I are actually operating on the same page in an unspoken manner: it doesn’t matter what’s in the bottle or what it supposedly does. He doesn’t want the bottle as much as he simply wants someone to do something to help. 
He wants to feel acknowledged to the point of me leaving my cozy bed. He wants to feel validated to the end that includes action. Even when we both know the cause of his fear isn’t real, he wants to know that we both believe his feeling of fear to be legitimate. 
I can get behind that. I don’t have to be right, but I need to be heard. As a person who frequently shares all of the thoughts, I don’t need unanimous agreement (though a little bit of agreement is nice), but I’m wanting those magical words – I understand. 
And most of the time, being heard translates into action. It’s not about the dishes in the sink, but about your willingness to do them without being asked. It’s not the activity we engage in but rather the effort we took to get together. 
Though we all know there’s nothing under there, true love rolls out of bed and gives it a squirt to ease the mind – and heart. 

Toddler Theology II

On the way home from church, Miss M and I engaged in some deep conversation about God, putting my creative thinking skills to the test. Though I deal with her version of reality day in and day out, I sometimes forget just how outside of common concepts God tends to be. A few excerpts:

Are the other kids staying at church?
No, they’re going home. They don’t live at the church just like we don’t live there. 
Who lives at the church?
Well, no one. 
Does God live at the church?
God lives everywhere. He’s wherever you’re looking for him. 
(Secretly gave myself a high five. Until the rest of the conversation ensued.)
Where does He go with us?
Well, wherever you need him to go. You know how you always want someone to go with you upstairs when you forget something because you don’t want to go alone? Well, God goes with you. 
God goes upstairs?
Yes. And He’s downstairs. He’s wherever you need him. 
Is God nice or mean?
God is Good – always good. 
How is He good?
He’s always with us. 
How big are God’s arms?
Well, He can hold the whole world.
How big is that?
Well,what’s someplace very, very far away?
Jack & Raya’s house is far away. We’re in the car for a long, long time.
Well, God can touch our house and Jack & Raya’s house at the same time. 
Why would God want to touch Jack and Raya’s house. 
**Insert sound of my head hitting the steering wheel
Who is God’s papa?
(New approach) Who IS God’s papa?
Well, who is God’s grandma?
(Not giving up on the new approach) Who IS God’s grandma?
Who is…
Look at that! We’re home already! That was a quick trip, eh?
These conversations humble me. I (we) have been entrusted to share with these precious hearts such imperative truths about the God we serve – that he is always present, always good and always available. The questions are hard, but I believe with everything I have that if I can get my kids to understand and remember those things, I’ll be steering them in the right direction.
When I’m forced to break down an understanding of such huge ideas for such little minds, I remember just how much I don’t know, how much I don’t need to know, and how much I want to know more. I return to my roots of belief – God is good, God is present, God is available to me, yes even me. The big debatables seem so puny in comparison. 
As she asked about God’s grandma and papa, the thought came to mind that numerous mythical gods came to earth via virgin birth and it’s easy to wonder, “Who could believe such a thing?” And then I try for one second to imagine my life without God’s presence, His goodness, his movement in my life. And I can’t do it – who would want such a thing? 
I’ll take the questions. I’ll take the debates. I’ll even spot the naysayers a few points that sometimes it doesn’t make sense. But God’s presence in my life, His goodness, his activity within me – it is. It just is. 

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

I grew up with an expectation of deep, gratifying friendships by watching who Don and Jeanne and “the friends” as we call them, and what they became to my parents. I saw how they simply showed up for whatever the occasion called for. Every 4th of July, New Years Eve and Super Bowl Sunday – we spent it together. They showed me that friendship is barely a step away from family – you earn the right to walk into the house uninvited and no one thinks it’s offensive. For us, that’s what friends do – they open their homes and their lives to one another.

I wrote that about a dear friend for her funeral, just a week ago. Because of her new absence, I’ve spent a considerable amount of time reflecting on my life, my childhood, and the huge blessing of growing up with parents who had strong friendships. Now that I’m an adult and lack the privilege of campus-based friendships, I know how difficult it is to form meaningful relationships. I’ve been blessed beyond reason with friendships through my life, specifically women who I love and can count on when I need it. However, now that we’re in a new location, we’ve felt the void of the simple presence of friends. 
Tonight another family came over for a hodge-podge meal and a game of cards. Their little E hovered over JJ to learn the ins and outs of Euchre – meaning JJ told her card 1, 2 or 3 and she threw it – while parents enjoyed a beverage and other kids enjoyed a movie. Some of the kids ran in and out of the basement, in costume. (Yes, all this at once. Between the 2 families there are 7 kids.)
At one point I wanted to wax poetic about the beauty of the scene because it was so reminiscent of my childhood. I have vivid memories of sitting upon my dad’s lap and asking what to throw. We would pop in and out of the card game to beg for food or drink or ask for a movie change (and yes, that was VHS). It was so comfortable and friendly and homey. And tonight I could give that to my own children. 
The joy and the challenge of parenthood is taking the best of your own life and offering it to your children while trying to eliminate the elements that sent you to therapy. We want to repeat certain memories while steering clear of other pieces. 
Tonight I offered one of the best things I bring to the table: a heritage of easy friendships. Conversations and beer and cards and food and craziness. Kids enjoying a time to play together while adults enjoy a time to – well, play together. I love my kids and wish to give them everything they need – prioritizing adult friendships in front of them is an unrealized gift I can gently place in their back pocket. A day will come when they ask themselves what friends do and what a full life looks like and I have given them a picture of people who simply show up in the midst of the daily grind. 
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