A Sense of Proportion

As I write this, it has been less than 24 hours since the explosions at the Boston Marathon finish line. The television has kept us abreast of every development, every story of heroism, every tragedy spelled out in gratuitous detail. What do we tell our kids about events such as these?

I was very touched by this meme that popped up all over Facebook almost immediately. I think Mrs. Rogers was a very wise woman. Reminding children to focus on the goodness going on in the midst of the terror helps them get a sense of proportion. There was a bad person who planted explosives at a race, but look at all the good people who are there to help! I think this is a great message to send to your kids. This will not, unfortunately, be the last time you will need to point this out to them. 

Remind them that we can do something to help too; we can pray, even when we are far away. And we can look for things to be thankful for in the midst of the disaster: the kindness of strangers, the emergency workers who know just what to do, the dogs who can find bombs, all the people who weren't harmed. Your list will be different from mine, but it will comfort you and your children to look for things to be grateful for in the midst of a tragedy.

Point out to your children that while this is the only thing on the news, there are many other things going on in the world at the same time. In this particular instance, one large event that went virtually ignored in the news was a major earthquake in Iran. The death toll is expected to exceed one hundred. Those people need our prayers every bit as much as the people of Boston. Help your child understand that the magnitude of media coverage is not a true indication of the importance of an event.

This is also a great time to talk about showing kindness to everyone. Acts of kindness will nearly always earn respect from most people. How many acts of violence are committed by people who have been scarred by abuse or bullying or neglect? If your child is popular, she has the power to influence others to be kind. If your child is picked on and bullied, it is important to help him learn to stand up for himself and to recognize that for every person who bullies him, there are far more who don't. Keeping a sense of proportion is vital. 

Lastly, be sure to model your faith in the midst of a frightening event. Pray with your child for the victims and emergency personnel. Pray for the "enemy." Talk about how we need not fear death because we know there is a new life beyond this one. Share what you believe. Tell your children what gives you courage and peace in hard times. God will use evil to bring good, and one of those good things is an opportunity to share your faith with your children. Faith, not the media, can establish a sense of proportion in the midst of the unthinkable.

Why and what if?

With everyone else, I have been contemplating the events at Newtown. I have wept often in the days since the shootings; it seems so unfair that little children, with their whole lives before them should be torn from life so violently, so senselessly. I have tried to understand why people disagree with simply banning the kind of weapons Adam Lanza used that day. I have discussed the issue of mental illness with many other people. I have lingered in the why  and what if questions for many days.

Again and again I travel around the why and what if circle. Why did the shooter choose that school, that class? What if the shooter had grown up in a home without guns? What if we had spent more money researching solutions to mental health problems?

In the end I come back to the same place every death takes me to - that every person we grieve is evidence of love in the world. We do not grieve those we do not love. It gladdens my heart to know that there is love to be found in all of this. It hurts my heart to know how much these families grieve, but their grief bears witness to love.

Someone I personally knew died six days after the Newtown shootings. And I was reminded of a friend whose elderly parent died on September 12, 2001. She said she felt selfish to mourn just one who had lived a good and full life,  in the midst of the other tragedy. Not so, I said then. Honor the one you loved by grieving your loss. Only those who love someone can truly grieve them.

I cannot grieve the people who died in Newtown - I didn't know them, much less love them. Yet I feel great compassion for everyone affected by this, because I too have know the pain of losing someone I loved. And I feel compassion for the shooter's remaining family, because I too know the pain of losing someone to suicide. I know the guilt that accompanies that kind of loss. I too know the pain of losing a brother.

This is the place where we all intersect: love, and the inevitable pain that accompanies it. Almost all of us think that everything that love brings makes it worth the pain. Apparently God agrees. God loved us enough to bear the pain of coming into the world and suffering beside us. God loved enough to give up the Only Son. God loves enough to walk with us through every painful step, and every joyful one too.

We all share this - love and grief are our common experience. Love and grief transcend race, gender, geographic location, economic status, and models of governance. The great source of that love binds us together with love. Let yourself be bound to neighbor, friend, and family. Yes you will grieve, but first you will love.

The Long View

It is the tradition, when building a cathedral, to lay the first stone at the east end of the church and build backward from there. The Washington National Cathedral was built in this way. Its first stone was laid in 1907. Five years after construction began, the first services were held in the Bethlehem chapel. Construction continued until the final stone was placed in 1990. The finished structure has over 83,000 square feet, is 102 feet high in the middle, has over 200 stained glass windows, and tombs containing the remains of several notable Americans, including Woodrow Wilson and Helen Keller.

I recently took a tour of the Cathedral and left pondering the sheer magnitude of this project. Who could conceive of a project that would take 83 years to complete? The original architect of this project, George Frederick Bodley died less than a month after the first stone was laid. All told, a total of five architects contributed to the building of the Cathedral.

One of the most famous features of the Cathedral is the "Space Window" which contains a rock brought back from the moon. It was hard to imagine a plan that would be flexible enough to incorporate such an artifact when the first flight at Kitty Hawk had just happened. According to the docent on my tour, the south windows were designed from the beginning to represent the gifts that people use to serve God. This particular opening was designated for the Scientists and Technicians window. The white spot in the center of the red circle is a slice of moon rock brought back and donated by the crew of Apollo 11.


In the instant world of the 21st century it is almost impossible for us to think in terms of decades, never mind centuries. That is partly a consequence of the pace of change in the life we live today, and partly the result of our ego-centric worldview. In the midst of this, the one place where we are perhaps still called to take the long view is the family. Having children is an act of hope. It is a dream of the future; an act that tells the world we believe in life. When we become parents, we have to remember that we are raising children who will most likely outlive us. We need to prepare them for a world we cannot see or even imagine.

Can we learn something about life architecture from the great architecture of the cathedral? The cathedral is shaped like a cross - reaching up, yet reaching out. It points toward God, and is put together of millions of smaller pieces - each small piece someone's best work. It is surrounded by enough natural space to allow time and calm for reflection. It incorporates the very greatest stories from the Bible and recognizes the gifts of all people. It acknowledges that there are fearful creatures around us, but lets the light in to chase the dark away. Both life, in the form of the baptismal font and the table where we can gather to eat, and death, in the form of crypts and memorials, are woven into the construction of the whole. What a wise design for a church, or a life!

The Plans I Have For You

The news is full of the death of singer Whitney Houston. She was a complex woman of great talent, plagued by addiction and self-destructive behavior. And she was a mother. I saw a story on Yahoo this morning tracing the lives of children left behind by famous parents who died prematurely. Such an event changes the life of the child forever. While Whitney Houston's daughter or Michael Jackson's kids may have not had normal lives by my standards, it was their normal, and the death of their parent shattered that normal.

Many years ago this issue came up in conversation with my own children. It may have been precipitated by the death of Princess Diana, but I truly don't remember for sure what brought about the conversation. One of them asked, with the other listening closely, "What will happen to us if you die?"  Not really sensing the underlying fears I answered that their Daddy would take care of them. They left, only to return later to ask me "What if Daddy dies too?" Still not really understanding the fear that was generating these questions, I pointed out that it was extremely unlikely that they would be left orphans. Finally, in frustration, one of them blurted, "But if it did happen, where would we live?" We had arrived at the real question.

"If you die, where will I live?" is a very real question to children. None of us really wants to think about it or talk about it, but to a child this is a much more urgent question than what happens to them when they die. They are acutely aware that they are not ready to fend for themselves. So they need to know who will take care of them if something should happen to us.

When I finally locked in and answered my daughter's question about where they would live, they went back to regular activities, their fears at rest. I had a plan. How about you? Have you made provision for your kids? Do you have a plan? A will? Some life insurance to pay for their college education?  The Bible reassures all of us that God (our heavenly Father, right?) has a plan for us: For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope. Jeremiah 29:11 NRSV

Our loving God knows our fears and rains down reassurances we don't even realize we will need, until we do.  Try to do the same for your children. Use these teachable moments to give them information that will make them feel secure.  Let them know you have a plan. And if you don't - please move making one to the top of your to-do list. We don't know what tomorrow holds, we can only know who holds it.

The Waiting Season

When my girls were small we had a favorite waiting-for-Christmas tradition: a fabric “calendar” with a little stuffed mouse that moved forward one pocket each night. Even when they were old enough to have cell phones and day planners we hung up that calendar. It was a fun and meaningful way for them to mark the passage of time. The church has designated this waiting-for-Christmas period as the season of Advent, a season of waiting. Advent is filled with texts about the coming of the Savior, and the coming-again of the Savior. It is not a passive sit back and wait – it is an active, waiting-and-watching season of life.

I spent two Advent seasons “great with child.” Pregnancy is the epitome of active waiting: preparation for an unknown but beloved person to arrive, preparation for the needs of the tiny guest and all those affected by her birth, and watching for signs of her imminent arrival. Evaluating every twitch, itch and tickle, watching for the labor pains that would deliver her to this world. Alert, watchful, making preparations, it was Advent come to life. 

In the instant culture of the 21^st century, waiting is rare, and most of us don't know how to wait well. I have been driving a lot the last couple of weeks and in at least 4 states I saw signs for hospital emergency rooms with “approximate wait times” displayed in digital lights that changed with circumstances in the ER. More and more babies are induced or delivered by C-section at a time mutually convenient for doctor and mother. Kindles and Nooks make waiting for the library to open, or for Amazon to ship, a thing of the past. Waiting has become so uncommon that last week's Facebook status updates featured a lot of comments about traffic, lines and waiting – because it was unusual.

In the end, we are all waiting for the great unknowable visitor - death, whose arrival cannot be predicted, but there is a more immediately relevant reason for deliberately teaching our children to wait: it is good for them. Many years ago a study found that the ability to wait, to delay gratification, was a significant predictor of future success (measured by normal, American standards such as getting a job, finishing school, forming lasting relationships,etc.) Check out this clip from a recent repeat of The Marshmallow Test.

Can your child wait? Can you help him learn to wait? Since there is so much to wait for with Christmas coming, this is a natural time to practice.  Practice the old swimming rule of thumb - wait for 30 minutes after eating. Remember how endless that seemed? Yet all the time it was helping us learn to wait. Try meeting a “Can I” question with “I have to think about it; I will tell you in 30 minutes” or, “we'll talk about it after you've finished your homework/chores/project.” If your children have had very limited waiting experience, this may prove difficult for them, but you will be blessing them for life.

Welcome to the Waiting Season, your estimated wait time is 24 days. . .

Teachable Moments: Death

Halloween is coming. I had a funny conversation at dinner recently about costumes that had to fit over snowsuits and frantic searches for replacement costumes when a cold front cancelled the Malibu Barbie costume planned for the balmy Texas weather . Was there ever a more bizarre holiday? We spend all year talking to our kids about stranger danger and good nutrition and then, on Halloween, we let them dress up in costumes and go out to knock on the doors of strangers to beg for candy. . .

Since Halloween is already weird and scary, this can be a great time to talk to your kids about death. Death is like sex - your kids are going to learn about it. If you don't teach them, someone else will and they may not teach it the way you would prefer. Children will encounter dead deer on the side of the road, and dead fish in the aquarium. Villains, heroes and other characters will die in fairy tales and on television. You can't avoid it so you'll have to talk about it. As a person of faith, I want my children to learn about death in the context of faith (as well as sex, money, the environment, relationships, politics and a host of other topics.) The worst time to talk about death is in the midst of grief and anguish when a death occurs. You cannot teach as clearly, and your child cannot learn as well, when circumstances are strained by loss.

The best time to talk about any tough subject is when it can be brought up naturally. So, use Halloween as a natural opportunity to visit a real cemetery with your child. Once there you can talk naturally about death, life after death, burial, cremation, the circle of life, and other related topics. Walk around; look for the oldest person, the youngest person, the oldest stone, and the newest grave. In a quiet setting like a cemetery or columbarium (where ashes are interred) your kid may feel free to ask about what is on his or her mind.

This may sound very artificial and strained to you – and it is! It was different in the past when death was a natural part of life. People died at home. People lived in the same places and knew everyone around them, and knew the circumstances of their deaths. Every church had a cemetery and every child knew the story of someone buried there. These days, the reality of human death is veiled in mystery; kids have very little real information or experience from which to draw conclusions. You, as the adult, have to be their bridge, even though you may have very little experience yourself. Look at your feelings and memories as you prepare for their questions. Do a little homework if you feel the need – hospice has lots of information for talking to children, and so do lots of websites and libraries. You may not be able to answer all their questions but you can assure them that, no matter what happens along the way, God will be with them on each and every step – even the very last one.

So, it’s a bit of a somber topic for the year’s weirdest holiday but what better time? And for those of you who hate half told stories – the Malibu Barbie costume was replaced with the ever ready princess costume: a bridesmaid dress from the ancient past and a dime store tiara saved the day. You just never know what you’ll need, or when, so it's a good idea to grab those opportunities for advance preparation!
 

The Gulf of Mexico

I was 16 years old before I saw the ocean. While I had spent much of my childhood in the land of 10,000 lakes, visited the great lake they call Gitche-Gumee (Superior) and been to the source of the mighty Mississippi River and the Great Salt Lake, the ocean was still a whole new experience. It was the Pacific Ocean and the waves were big and the water was cold. I can barely describe the experience. It was amazing. Hypnotic. Cathartic. Holy. Later I would visit the Atlantic (both sides) and the Caribbean but my favorite salt water place is the Gulf of Mexico.

This can probably be attributed to a number of factors: the water temperature, proximity, familiarity, but I think mostly, it is because that is where I got to encounter the ocean with children. To see the ocean through a child's eyes is a wondrous thing. Chasing and being chased by water, digging down in the sand where an air hole appears, building castles and counting pelicans provide endless delights for a child. Searching for shells and examining jellyfish provide many opportunities to encounter life and death in the most natural of settings. The questions come faster than you can answer them: Where did it go? Why did it die? Is it in heaven? Where is the mommy fish? Who ate it? What was inside this shell? Why does it only have one foot? Why are those shells stuck to the boat?

At the water's edge, life and death are encountered in (for most kids) an impersonal and un-painful way. Dead fish wash ashore. Empty shells abound. Big fish eat little fish, birds pick the shore clean, and the waves roll in and out relentlessly. Nowhere can you find God's circle of life more clearly demonstrated than at the beach. Life and death are the BIG topics that get us to thinking about God. Try taking your kids to the beach this summer and think theologically for a bit!

Come on in, the water's deep but filled with life and joy!