The best gift I never got

I should preface by saying that my mother has eight children, so Christmas shopping can probably get a little overwhelming. It’s got to be hard to keep those lists straight. Anyhow, allow me to take you back in time. The year was 1994, and I was but a lowly 4th grader. I had the great fortune of knowing exactly what I wanted for Christmas that year. A Game Boy. It didn’t bother me that the word “boy” was in the name of the toy. It was clearly meant for me. When I would visit my cousin Tracy, I would often leave her upstairs to play with her dolls, while I played Mario Bros or Duck hunt with her little brother, Matto. In contrast, my sister, Kelli, loved to accompany Tracy around the neighborhood as they pushed their baby dolls in their toy strollers. To each his own, right? No, you’re right; it’s just lame. Anyway, while Kelli probably asked for glitter nail polish or a Minnie Mouse book, I had written “GAME BOY” out five times on my list and numbered it 1-5 in order of greatest need. I didn’t ask for anything else; I didn’t want anything else.
When Christmas morning rolled around, I excitedly approached the tree knowing the approximate size and shape of the package I was looking for. As we opened presents, one at a time, I remembered anticipating the great unveiling. When would I get my Game Boy? Surely it was just a matter of time. None of my presents looked the right size though, and each one I opened revealed another gift that was not on my Christmas list. Ah well, maybe next year.
Across the room I heard several of my siblings gasp. They moved around Kelli and pointed to the gift she had just opened. “What could be garnering her all of this attention?” I wondered. I moved toward her and suddenly realized what the hoopla was about. In her hand was a Game Boy -- my freakin’ Game Boy. And my parents had gotten her a Looney Tunes game to go along with it. How lame! Kelli may have liked Looney Tunes, but she didn’t even play video games! Had my parents really screwed up so monumentally? Did they not even know the difference between their own daughters? I was angry. “How could this be happening to me?” I wondered, “This isn’t what Christmas is all about.” In my mind, Christmas was about giving good gifts to the people that wanted them; to break it down to the simplest terms, me + gameboy = Christmas.
So that Christmas sucked. At the time, I didn’t even understand the error of my ways. But as I was driving to work one morning just a few months ago, it hit me. At 27 I can truly say that I am so glad my parents didn’t get me that blasted Game Boy. It is the best gift I never got. In that single moment, they communicated to me that neither the world, nor the Christmas holiday , nor my family revolved around li’l old me. I was not the center of the universe (as I had imagined). And, consequently, neither was the Game Boy. I learned that sometimes I will not get the things that I want, even if I desire that thing with my whole being. In fact, I may have to watch other people get something that I desperately want, when they didn’t even “wish” for it. That is a hard lesson to accept when you’re 10, but it is much harder if that lesson doesn’t come until you’re 20, 30, or 40. So thank you, Mom and thank you, Dad. You made Christmas 1994 miserable, and I am better for it.

Strange, strange world

I just recently read through "A Voice in the Wind" which chronicles the fictional story of Hadassah, a Jewish Christian in the early Roman Empire who is employed as a household slave. It was a captivating story, and the author had done a good deal of historical research in order to piece together an accurate depiction of 1st century Jerusalem, Rome, and Ephesus. However, I found myself a little unsettled by many of the cultural details that were included: temple prostitutes, convenience abortions, bloodythirsty arena crowds, drunken orgies, adultery, and "consenting" relations between men and young boys -- all are referred to within the text. While the author does not place undue emphasis on these unfortunate occurrences, they are nevertheless a present and pervasive part of the culture Hadassah lives in.

I read through a paragraph describing what a central character first encounters when entering the temple of Artemis. "Surely not,"I thought in response to the description of prostitutes provided by the temple to help "aid" in worship. Another character fears becoming pudgy and unattractive because of the child that is growing inside her -- she's thankful when a friend shows her the way to "freedom" -- through abortion.

When I finished this book last week, this Roman world seemed a million miles away. It's 2012; I'm living in Texas, and I can't imagine a blood thirsty mob shouting for women and children to be fed to lions for their own entertainment.

Right now, as I'm sitting at my computer, I still can't conceive of the lion bit, but my eyes are a bit more opened to some of the other realities around me: sexual sin, abortion, violence, etc.

Let me explain. I guess when you are hitting the 10 year high school graduation mark, you start to see a sudden rise in the divorce rate among your peers. Facebook makes it a really ugly process. By ugly I mean that it tells the world that you went from "Married to ______" to "no longer in a relationship with ______." And that's not even the complicated part. These dissolving relationships are followed by new, perplexing status developments. You've dumped your husband but now you have a new girlfriend; you love the new man in your life but- snap-the baby you are pregnant with isn't his, you can't stand the "brats" you gave birth to and wish someone would come take them from you... and the list goes on.

All of this is pretty overwhelming for me and my sheltered self to process. These people are so broken! Their world is falling apart! The lives of their children are just crumbling to pieces! Who the blazes is going to fix this mess?!

In Sunday School, you quickly learn as a kid that "Jesus" is the safest answer.
What is this Bible story about? Jesus
Who should we try to act like? Jesus
If you could meet any famous person, who would it be? Jesus

What I'm starting to realize is that this simple concept is weightier than I ever gave it credit for.

Because Jesus really is the answer; the only answer.

At the end of "The Voice in the Wind" the characters' lives are in shambles. They are miserable Epicureans who discover the very shallow waters of hedonism... except for Hadassah. She loves Jesus. This little slave girl is the only one that is actually free -- and she's fed to the lions. I know I just ruined the end of the story for you, but you should know what happens to her, because at the end of the book, she is possibly the only character you don't have pity for.

Countdown to June

I am so excited for 2012.
2012 is the year that I get to stay home with my little ones. Today is a school holiday, so instead of dropping off the boys at daycare and heading to the classroom, I piled them into their wagon and we took a long walk around the block. As we were walking around the neighborhood, I thought, "Could this really be my life? Could I really spend weekday mornings trekking around the neighborhood with my two little boys?"

Right now, I am at a particularly difficult stage with Chandler. He cries when I drop him off at daycare in the morning, and he falls asleep shortly after we get home. With Owen Ray it's a whole lot easier. He loves his buddies at daycare, and we have a few hours to hang out once we get home.
Weekends are wonderful, but weekends are also short. Plus, many things that need to be done throughout the busy work week get pushed to Saturday or Sunday.

All that to say, I am really starting to anticipate my impending retirement from teaching. It cannot come soon enough.

Chesterton on Motherhood

At the end of this school year I am staying home! No more 9 to 5 while my sweet little ones are in day care. As a school teacher, I have had the blessings of summer vacations and holiday breaks with my boys, but I've always known that I would eventually have to head back to work. The breaks would end too quickly, and we would resume life as usual. My husband announced to me a few months ago that this would be my last year working. It took several weeks to sink in, and even now, I have a hard time believing it's true. I've been thinking a lot on motherhood, and how so many of the stay-at-home moms I meet seem to get so burnt out. They struggle with isolation. They feel guilty that they aren't earning a paycheck. They resent losing their identity. I'm not sure why this has happened to so many of my friends, but their honesty has helped me to realize that I need to guard against these things.

This brings me to Chesterton. (obviously)

While an undergraduate, I was very briefly a member of the "Montgomery Chesterton Society." I specify very briefly because I attended all of 4 meetings. Fortunately, this was enough for me to be exposed to G.K. Chesterton's genius. I have always loved what he had to say about wives and mothers. This is such an encouragement to me as I consider the higher calling of motherhood:

It is not difficult to see why...the female became the emblem of the
universal ...natural operation surrounded her with very young children, who
require to be taught not so much anything as everything. Babies need not to be
taught a trade, but to be introduced to a world. To put the matter shortly,
woman is generally shut up in a house with a human being at the time when he
asks all the questions that there are, and some that there aren't. It would be
odd if she retained any of the narrowness of a specialist. ...But when people
begin to talk about this domestic duty as not merely difficult but trivial and
dreary, I simply give up the question. For I cannot with the utmost energy of
imagination conceive what they mean. When domesticity, for instance, is called
drudgery, all the difficulty arises from a double meaning in the word. If
drudgery only means dreadfully hard work, I admit the woman drudges in the home,
as a man might drudge at the Cathedral of Amiens or drudge behind a gun at
Trafalgar. But if it means that the hard work is more heavy because it is
trifling, colorless and of small import to the soul, then as I say, I give it
up; I do not know what the words mean. To be Queen Elizabeth within a definite
area, deciding sales, banquets, labors and holidays; to be Whiteley within a
certain area, providing toys, boots, sheets cakes. and books, to be Aristotle
within a certain area, teaching morals, manners, theology, and hygiene; I can
understand how this might exhaust the mind, but I cannot imagine how it could
narrow it. How can it be a large career to tell other people's children about
the Rule of Three, and a small career to tell one's own children about the
universe? How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone, and narrow to be
everything to someone? No; a woman's function is laborious, but because it is
gigantic, not because it is minute I will pity Mrs. Jones for the hugeness of
her task; I will never pity her for its smallness.

You can't please everyone...

Owen Ray and I picked up Frog and Toad Are Friends from the library. We absolutely love it! Seriously, this book is adorable. No wonder it's still on the shelf after being published 41 years ago. This edition of Frog and Toad is comprised of five short stories that affirm the blessings of true friendship. Frog and Toad go for walks, wait for mail deliveries, and retrieve lost buttons together. They are the best of buddies and demonstrate this through acts of kindness and the occasional shared cup of tea.

One day in summer Frog was not feeling well.

Toad said, "Frog, you are looking quite green."

"But I always look green," said Frog. "I am a frog."

"Today you look very green even for a frog," said Toad. "Get into my bed and rest." Toad made Frog a cup of hot tea.

Since this is a library book that will soon have to be returned, I headed over to Amazon to find out how much it would cost to purchase. I would like to have it as a part of Owen Ray's permanent library. I was surprised to see that amid the 100+ five star reviews for this Caldecott Honor book, was this little gem. It just goes to show, you can't please everyone.

City Mouse/Country Mouse

Today I read "The Country Mouse and the City Mouse" to Owen Ray. Of all the stories in our Tall Book of Nursery Tales, this is the one I was the most unfamiliar with. However, I think it's my new favorite.

When the city mouse comes to visit his country cousin he says "You do not live well at all. Why you should see how I live! I have fine things to eat every day." The country mouse is immediately ashamed of his simple home.

In some loosely connected way, this seems to be just where Trey and I are at. This is our first month using the "envelope system" to manage our money. We are having to say "no" to things we've always said "yes" to because it simply isn't in our budget. We have a goal that we want to achieve each month, a particular amount that we plan to pay toward debt. However, this goal requires sacrifice on our part. As I think about our culture of debt and consumerism, I do feel like the little country mouse who is made to feel ashamed that he is living within his means rather than beyond his means.

The end of the story is reassuring, however. After narrowly escaping a frightened cook, a hungry cat, and a tempting trap, the country mouse is sure that the city is not the place for him.

"I think I will go home," he said. "I'd rather have barley and grain and eat it in peace, than have brown sugar and cheese and eat in fear."

While this "nursery tale" is not meant to be a philosophical treatise, I can't help but consider the implications of this conclusion. The country mouse has realized that genuine rest and peace come from enjoying that which we have diligently worked for. The country mouse learns that the nuts, barley, and crumbs he has gathered in preparation for the winter are more satisfying than the brown sugar and dried cherries that his city dwelling cousin steals from the kitchen cupboard at leisure. It is not too much of a stretch to say that the country mouse has learned the truth behind the proverb "Lazy hands make for poverty, but diligent hands bring wealth." (Proverbs 10:4)

Rubber Ducky Woes

Sometimes a rubber ducky causes more trouble than should ever be possible. After moving aside Owen Ray's dresser to vaccuum, I discovered the carpet was soaked. Why? I wasn't sure, but his room is adjacent to the shower, and this seemed the likeliest culprit. I called a plumber who confirmed that a shower valve leak behind the shared wall was probably causing the wet carpet in Ray's room. The plumber showed up ready to do some serious repairs. I showed him to the bathroom, and he immediately pointed out the culprit... which was not a valve... it was a duck.

The price of this duck just went from a few bucks to $$$. It turns out that by using a faucet cover that is not specifically designed for our faucet, we were inadvertently causing water to be pushed back up the pipes, resulting in a leak behind the wall. Our plumber shared that he has been to at least 40 homes where these little guys have been the root cause of all the bathroom plumbing issues. We took his advice and said goodbye to the ducky.