The Things We Say

Surely, every mom-blog has one of these posts, but I can't resist. I keep hearing myself saying things I never imagined uttering before kids--particularly boys--entered my life. Here is a random list of quotes from the past couple days.

"No thanks, I don't want your booger... No, really, I'm good."

"You can be Superman, but you have to wear more than underwear."

"C'mon guys, one bath a week isn't going to kill you."

"Ok, put your shirts back on. No more boxing until Dad gets home."

And my favorite...

"No, absolutely not. You can't take a gun to church."

A Boy's Take on Valentine's Day

Somehow I ended up with five little boys running around our house yesterday. Two were my own, one was invited, and the other two wandered in from the neighborhood. Being surrounded by little men on Valentine's Day, I got an interesting perspective on the holiday. Here is what I could glean about a boy's take on Valentine's Day.

On a Big Date:
Nathan: "I'll get a job and work lots and lots. Then I can take you to the 'bending machine' at the YMCA."

On Playing with Girls:
"We're no match for girls. C'mon guys let's guard our palace!"

On Decorating Valentine Cookies:
Boy #1: (dumping a pile of red sprinkles on his cookie) "Wow, check out all these sprinkles."

Boy #2: "It's my turn. Look, I have more sprinkles than you."

Boy #3: "Nuh uh, I have the MOST sprinkles. Look at this..." (finishes off the red sprinkles)

Boy #4: (too busy eating cookies and frosting to bother with sprinkles)

Boy #5: (waits ten minutes until the others have lost interest and goes chair to chair licking up the leftover sprinkles)

On Girlfriends:
"Ewwwwwww, gross!!!"

Top of the Pile

I didn't post our "top of the pile" choices last week, because I was too busy dispensing Tylenol, changing bedding, and cleaning up after very sick children. So, without further ado, here they are in no particular order.

Snipp, Snapp, Snurr and the Yellow Sled by Maj Lindman. Caleb had mixed feelings about this one, but he asked to read it several times and was disappointed when I returned it to the library. It is part of a series of stories about the adventures of triplet boys (there is a similar series about triplet girls, Flicka, Ricka, and Dicka). The books were written in the 1930s by Swedish author Maj Lindman. In The Yellow Sled Snipp, Snapp, and Snurr agree to work for two weeks to earn a new yellow sled. They do everything their mother asks (not without a mishap or two) and she takes them to the store to buy the sled.

While the triplets wait outside, they meet a boy younger than themselves who is very poor. The little boy is looking at the sled and crying because his family could never afford it. Snipp, Snapp and Snurr confer with their mother and decide to give the little boy their sled. Their mother agrees that they can work for two more weeks to earn another sled. This was the point in the story that upset Caleb. He didn't think the boys should give up the sled and was convinced that their dad (who does not figure prominently in the story) would be mad at them. Apparently, generosity is not an instinctive virtue. Ah well, that is why we read stories like this one.

Bread and Jam for Frances by Russell Hoban, Illustrated by Lillian Hoban. I tried reading the Frances books to the boys a year or so ago and they were completely uninterested. I suppose it helped to reintroduce them on a gray and frigid week when we were all feeling too rotten to go anywhere or do anything. In any case, the boys can't get enough of Frances. We've read and re-read Bread and Jam. When I went to the library this week they asked me to get Bedtime for Frances and A Bargain for Frances as well. Bargain is easily my favorite. The boys got all fired up at the injustice of Thelma's tea set deal and cheered Frances when she came up with a creative solution. Very well written and fun to read!

The Logic of Little Boys

A telephone ringing is, in our house, very much like the bell in a boxing arena. The minute our boys know I am on the telephone, they commence punching, wrestling, kick boxing, sword fighting, and whatever other form of violence happens to grab their fancy.

The other day I was talking on the phone to a neighbor and half listening to the ruckus downstairs. When Caleb began shrieking in genuine pain, I got off the phone and dashed down to the basement. By the time I got there, both boys were crying.

"What happened?" I demanded in my most threatening tone.

"Nathan bit meeeeeee!" Caleb wailed.

Biting is absolutely off limits in our house, so Nathan knew he was in for it.

"Nathan, did you bite Caleb?" I asked.

"Yes," he sobbed.

"You know that's mean and wrong."

"But," he cried, "I was soooo hungry!"

In a Rut

At the dinner table last night, we were talking about Caleb starting school. Nathan looked bewildered and asked, "What about me?"

"Well," I answered, "you and Mom will get to have a special date. What should we do on our special date?"

Nathan thought for a moment. "Go to church!"

Now it was my turn to be bewildered. "And what will we do at church?" I asked.

Nathan looked at me as if it should be obvious, "Go to meetings."

Daniel and I laughed. Apparently we need to get a little more creative with our "dates."

Orphan Care--Adoption and Beyond

"Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world."  James 1:27 (ESV)

Earlier this week I came across this testimony from the Haines family who, in the process of adopting a young girl from Ethiopia, began to wonder if there was something else they should be doing to care for orphans in parts of the world stricken by poverty. I was thankful they shared their story. Adoption is a loving and often necessary way to intervene on behalf of abandoned and vulnerable children. In adopting, parents model God's adoptive love that takes us from our sin and self-destruction to make us his children. Adoption is one way to reenact the gospel. It is one solution for orphaned children. However, as Seth and Amber Haines demonstrate, it is not the only solution.

My closest friend in Vietnam is not able to have children. Instead, she and her husband have been blessed with an ever growing ministry among the poor. A few years ago, my friend called one evening and told me that something completely unexpected had happened. They had just brought home a newborn baby. The baby boy had been born prematurely to drug-addicted parents who were living on the streets of Ho Chi Minh City. A mutual acquaintance asked our friends if they would intervene and care for the baby at least for a little while.

When I first met him, Binh was so tiny I could barely hold him against my shoulder. With one hand under his bottom and the other patting his back, my elbows stuck out perpendicular to the floor as if I were playing the violin. He was small and wrinkled and his chest sometimes sucked inward indicating that his lungs were not functioning exactly as they should. My friend and her husband cared for him around the clock. They got what medical help they could without a birth certificate or any form of identification. They fed Binh and bathed him and loved him and prayed for him. Without even meaning to, they became his parents.

Every week they met Binh's birth parents at a local shopping center so the couple could see the baby and play with him. Some weeks they seemed to be really taken with their child. Other times they were barely interested. At some point, the dad disappeared and was later arrested and jailed for drug trafficking. Binh's mother admitted that she was never entirely sure who the real father was. Our friends tentatively began to suggest the possibility of adoption.

Binh's mother moved back in with her parents who encouraged her to give the baby up. Instead, she entered a drug-rehab program and found a job. In spite of several failed attempts to stay off drugs and months of ups and downs, she eventually made progress. She even began to get involved in a church near her home and was later baptized. During all of this, our friends kept Binh and cared for him. They desperately wanted to adopt the baby who had become in so many ways their own, but they also recognized that this mother loved her son.

At one point, they stopped suggesting adoption. They began to leave Binh with his mother for longer periods of time and shifted their energy to helping the mother learn how to care for her child. My friend spent countless afternoons in the tiny, ramshackle house where Binh's mother lived helping her play with her son and understand his needs. I remember many conversations with my friend as she went back and forth about what would be best for Binh. In the end, they made the very hard decision to give him back to his mother.

Adoption is one way to rescue orphans and children whose parents can not or will not care for them. It is one way to live out the gospel. Intervening in a desperate situation to lovingly restore a broken family is another way. I do not want to minimize the important role of adoption, but I think the American church can benefit from stories like Binh's and that of the Haines family. Orphans around the world are not always parent-less, but they are powerless. They need our wise and loving care demonstrated in myriad ways.      

To Make a Mom's Day

A few weeks ago Daniel and I went to a meeting at some friends' house. Because they didn't have a lot of extra space, we hosted all the children and two babysitters at our place. The babysitters often help out with these get-togethers and they have watched our boys several times. When they arrived, one of the first things they said was, "We LOVE watching your boys."

Given that some days I don't want to watch my boys, this was astonishing. I was rendered speechless. Now that I've had a few weeks to savor it, I've realized that the straightest route to encourage a mom is to enjoy her children. Compliments are nice, but genuine enjoyment is harder to dismiss. When people tell me that one boy is smart or the other is sweet, I am grateful that the pair managed to cooperate for the ten minutes that the person spent with them. I do think the boys are smart and sweet (thinking that is part of my job description), but I also know they are quite capable of being a host of other things. When a person spends an hour or more with the boys and can't wait to see them again, I am encouraged.

So, if you know a young mom and you spend any amount of time with her kids, the best way to bless her is to love her angels. When they wipe jam on your pants and sneeze in your coffee, when they throw themselves in the middle of the floor screaming because Mom said "no," when they take twenty minutes to find their shoes and put on their coats, do your best to grin and bear it. When they crawl up in your lap with a picture book or bring you their favorite toy to "share," enjoy the moment. You love a mom when you love her kids.