An encounter with my son.

I was getting Doodle ready for bed this week, changing her diaper and putting on her jammies, and was chatting with Sprout while I worked.  The kids all love to have "conversations" with Doodle, where they talk to her and I answer back for her in a teeny squeaky voice.  We were expecting a visit the next day from a family with a new baby, so the conversation went like this:

Doodle:  "Sprout, I am so excited for the baby to come visit tomorrow!  Then I won't be the smallest one here."
Sprout: "Aw, don't worry, Doodle.  You're still a really cool person even though you're small.  It doesn't matter how big you are."
Doodle:  "Was I a cool person even when I was in mommy's tummy?"
Sprout: "Of course you were!"
Doodle: "Even when I was so teeny-weeny you couldn't even see me?"
Sprout: "Yep.  You're a cool person no matter how new or small you are!"

I started to push him a bit, and teeny squeaky Doodle-voice asked: "How do you know that?"
Sprout: "I don't know.  I just do."
Doodle: "Well, how could I be cool and important and a person when I was so tiny you couldn't see me?"
Sprout, thinking for a moment: "Well, because God makes us all like Him.  And so we're all cool and important, 'cause God made us.  Even when we're tiny and new, we're made like God and we're people - God wouldn't start us out as some other thing and then change us all at once into being like Him; that's just weird and He doesn't work like that.  So we're always people, and we're always important, right from the very beginning, even if we're tiny or don't look very much like a person yet.  How you look doesn't matter - what matters is that God made you.  So see, Doodle? You were always cool!"

I was floored.  We've never talked about this, and he certainly doesn't know that the lives of unborn children are a political, social, and ethical minefield.  But he got it, all on his own.  It is such a privilege to see into his mind sometimes, and I marvel at his ability to pray and hear God.  That kid is going places.

Giving Thanks

I am thankful for Super-Smart Hunky Husband (SSHH).  He loves his children, loves God, and is the strongest person I know.  He's done incredible things for his family.  I have learned so much from him, and he still makes me laugh and smile every single day.  Every challenge we've faced has been another opportunity to reaffirm our commitment to each other.  He is a gift and a blessing to me.

I am thankful for Sprout.  He's bright, funny, and is so full of joy and love.  He understands God and life in ways that leave me speechless.  He's one of the kindest people I know, and truly has a heart of service.

I am thankful for SweetPea.  She is always the first to want to help others.  She notices everything, and points out all the little wonders that I'd never noticed.  She has an insatiable curiosity and stumps me regularly with her questions.

I am thankful for SweetPotato.  She is so strong and independent.  She loves fiercely, and is quick to get angry when someone has been unfair to her brother or sisters.  She gives out 9647 kisses a day.

I am thankful for Doodle.  Even at 3am, she always greets me with a smile.  She is truly the most joyful child I've ever known.  She has been a blessing for all of us.

I am thankful for the job that puts food on our table and a roof over our heads and still allows me to spend most days home with my family.  I am thankful that it is a job of public service, letting me be of use in the world in a small way.  I am thankful for our wonderful church community, filled with faithful, joyful people.  I am thankful for our local homeschoolers, who are so kind and helpful and affirming in the path we're taking this year.  I'm thankful for our friends, amazing people, all of them, who show us how to live better in ways large and small.

I can't imagine ever having more.

Social Maturity

The stereotype of the homeschooled child is an awkward, stumbling, poorly-dressed nerd.  I'm not going to address that here, except to say that research and experience have proven that to be far from the truth; homeschooled kids inhabit every corner of the social spectrum, as do traditionally educated children.  Everyone knows of an awkward kid in their high school class - but no one thinks "OMG!!! He's awkward because he goes to SCHOOL!"  Why do we assume the reverse is true?

If anything, homeschooling parents are very intentional about their children's social experiences.  They look for positive, nurturing friendships and seek to foster a strong sense of community in their children.  They get their children out and about in all sorts of environments - not just with a flock of same-aged peers.  That often produces kids who are socially awkward as children precisely because they are socially mature.

Sprout is an active Cub Scout and loves it.  As often as not, however, we leave meetings with him shaking his head a bit - "Mom, you know when Billy and Joey were crawling on the floor like worms?  It was really rude to do that while Mr. Jones was talking.  It was really fun to be worms in the dirt when we went outside to play, though!"  He can get messy and crazy and loud with the best of them, but he's very aware that there's a time and a place for that - and he limits his crazies to when it's appropriate.

While searching for books for Sprout for Christmas, I thought about the popular Diary of a Wimpy Kid series.  They had some juvenile humor, from what I'd heard, but lots of Sprout's Catholic school-friends read them and they seemed pretty harmless.  I found one at the library book sale for a buck and picked it up to read.

And it was awful.  Not just in a potty-humor way, but in an encouraging-nastiness way.  The hero shows how awesome it is to torment your sister, throw spitballs at kids you don't like, and be apathetic about nearly everything.  And that isn't my kid - and I don't want my kid thinking that's normal.  Sprout loves his sisters, gets excited about learning, is openly friendly to everyone, and loves to talk about God and church.  That might make him socially different, not having the too-cool-for-that mien of some of his friends.  But you know what?  That's okay.  That's even good.  When meanness becomes a sign of maturity, I'll take a little longer childhood.

How on Earth is this a bad thing?

House of Mercy

Well, we survived Halloween.  It's not one of my favorite days.  We don't do "character" stuff - not on the kids' clothes, not their toys, not their Halloween costumes, and it's crazy hard to find costumes that aren't Disney Princess or Spiderman or Skylanders or what have you.  The massive, rude candy-grab annoys me - seriously, the kids who get obnoxious because you only gave them three candy bars instead of ten! - and it's just an entirely manufactured and sort of weird day.

Be that as it may, we always get the kids decked out and go trick-or-treating.  This year, though, we decided that we wanted to do something to make the event a bit less self-centered, and the website of House of Mercy, a local food pantry and assistance organization, suggested "trick-or-treating for Mercy" - collecting food items while going door-to-door on Halloween.  I pitched the idea to Sprout and he was on board, so the weekend before Halloween we distributed fliers around the neighborhood explaining what House of Mercy was and that if they wanted to donate food, we'd collect it Halloween night and bring it in the next day.

And our neighbors rocked it.  The kids went trick-or-treating, towing their little red wagon behind them, filling it up with food as we trundled around the block.  At the end of the evening, the wagon was nearly full (and their candy baskets, too!), and so were our hearts.  One man, who had forgotten the food when we came to his door, even came driving up looking for us at the end of the night so he could give us his bag of canned goods.

Then today we loaded up the car and set out for House of Mercy.  I'd read about it, but we'd never been - what an amazing, blessed place!  Every volunteer we encountered was open and welcoming and grateful for the food and genuinely joyful to be there.  They took the time to talk with the kids about the work they do.  They thanked Sprout effusively when he gave several dollars of his allowance.

They also invited us to look around their facility, which is much more than a food pantry.  There's a thrift store, computer lab, and small chapel.  They serve hundreds of client families each month, giving them not just food and clothing, but baby supplies, toys for their children, and classes in English, money management, writing, and employment skills.  There's Mass in their chapel, a replica of the grotto at Lourdes.  They also take their ministry beyond their walls, teaming up with groups in Washington, DC and around the world.

What was most striking, however, was the quiet dignity of their mission.  I've seen assistance organizations that, in their quest to serve many, feel more like a feedlot than a place for human beings.  House of Mercy is not fancy, but they take great pains to care for the dignity of their clients.  The pantry and thrift store were immaculately clean, and felt more like shopping at JC Penney than a secondhand shop.  There was quiet religious music playing in the background.  All were welcome to stop and pray in the chapel, whether they were there to shop or donate or receive material assistance.

House of Mercy, when they go out to work with the homeless, has made foot washing a part of their ministry.  That, I think, encapsulates their vocation.  They serve their fellow men as Christ would have them do it, always with respect and care for the dignity of each human person.  They realize that poverty afflicts the soul as much as it does the body, and so in their work they take constant care to say in so many small ways, "You have worth.  You have dignity.  You have potential."  They treat everyone who walks through their doors as one who is made in the image and likeness of God, from recognizing the act of a small boy who gave his carefully saved four dollars and fifty cents to appreciating how much effort it took for four small children to collect their bags of food to helping an unemployed pregnant mother choose new clothes for her toddler to teaching English to a new immigrant.  Their mission is to show God's mercy to the weak, but even as we came with bags of food, we left having received much more grace than we had given.