Is Dat Real?

Samantha and I share the same personality type. Both introverted, intuitive feelers - we're equally at home in Narnia or Middle Earth as in the here and now, perhaps more so. The mystical, magical world of imagination fits firmly into our worldview. "Is that story true or allegorical?"

"Yes."

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreampt of in your philosophy.
--Hamlet by William Shakespeare.

(The fact that neither of us can find our shoes is irrelevant to this post.)

Trent and Paul may not share DNA, but they are cut from the same cloth personality-wise - both sensing thinkers. Logical, practical, action oriented. Athletic, optimistic and good in a crisis, but not so patient with the world of fairy and fantasy. Whenever it was Trent's turn for storytime with Sam he'd get a paragraph in then exclaim in irritation, "What is this? Are these characters animals? Why are they talking?"

So while I love Santa Claus and revel in the Truth of goodness, magic and love inherent in Santa legends around the world (I believe), we decided not to empathize the jolly elf with Paul. We had enough of a learning curve with other aspects of Christmas - Jesus, family, generosity, gratitude, love. Plus, the idea of a strange man creeping through the chimney and eating cookies kinda freaks out some kids from hard places.

We did attempt the Advent Angel - (like the elf on the shelf in that it requires a bulk of work from Mom); Gabby the Angel travels from person to person doing good (sometimes mischevious) deeds and generally helping the family get ready for Christmas. The first day of Avent Gabby appeared with a plate of banana muffins (Paul's favorite) and a note. As an added touch, one muffin was half-eaten with a few crumbs left on Gabby's mouth. Adorable.

Paul got MAD. "Dat thing not real! Mum made the muffins! I see dem pans!" Then he threw sweet Gabby across the kitchen.

Alrighty then.

We attempted Gabby a few more times - reading a new storybook with favorite stuffed animals, watching a video with the dogs - but Paul was always insistent that it wasn't real and determined to discover the REAL perpetrator of good deeds. I didn't argue - we talked about how we were helping angels by using Gabby to act like angels. He even got in on the action once by helping clean Daddy's room, but I could tell he just wasn't that into it.

And the Elf on the Shelf that was all over facebook? He took a look at a couple of pictures posted by friends. "Dat thing is weird," declared my little pragmatic.

Santa got the same treatment. I'm sure friends at school talked about Santa and well-meaning adults asked him what Santa was going to bring him. He questioned the "realness" of Santa several times, specifically wanting to know if the Santa in the movie Elf was the real Santa "or not?" We read the story of St. Nicholas and how St. Nicholas showed love by giving gifts and how people today "play Santa" whenever they share gifts and love.

He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist... The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see...
--"Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Claus", New York Sun.

"But de presents in de sock? You give me those? Or Santa? You de real Santa?"

Sometimes adoptive parents get the "what is real" questions, too. "What happened to his real parents?" "Does he have any real brothers or sisters?" "Do you have any real children?" What they mean, of course, is biological. Because adoptive parents and adopted children are very much real - practically real, metaphorically real, real in every sense of the word. One doesn't have to share DNA to be real. One only has to share love.

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real, you don't mind being hurt."
--The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams

We Can Be the Helpers

Paul: "Why is some people's clothes dirty?"

Me: I knew what he was thinking with this. On Saturday, we went to a party at a church that ministers to refugees from Central Africa. We had the opportunity to sing with, eat with, befriend, and share gifts with a refugee family of three who arrived from the Democratic Republic of Congo seven months ago - exactly the time frame that Paul arrived home. Paul had been exceedingly prepped for this adventure, so while he didn't leave our laps, he was calm and observant and willing to interact. He knew they would speak a language that wasn't English and wasn't Sesotho, and he didn't panic when they began speaking Swahili. By "chance" we sat by "our family's" nine year old boy at the beginning of the party, before we knew he was the boy for whom we'd brought books and legos and clothes. We talked and laughed and he showed off his Spiderman toy.  His pants were much too short and torn, and his coat was dirty. Paul noticed. "Sometimes people don't have enough money for new clothes or they don't have money to wash their clothes very often."

Paul: Clearly considering this. "What they gonna do?"

Me: Still reeling from the tragedy of injustice, pain, poverty. Still wondering myself what they're going to do, what we're going to do. "I don't know, buddy. Maybe people will show them Jesus' love by helping them."

Paul: "Maybe I could give them my dollar. That might help maybe. Or not?"

Me: For the past two months he's been carefully saving his dollars - painstakingly earned by using kind words, obeying, helping -  because he has yet to realize that there will be presents for him this Christmas. Tears. "Yeah, buddy. That would help. You are a great helper."

As I returned to school today, as I sent emails and discussed safety protocol and counseled students and walked the hallways; peering in on classrooms of six year olds, seven year olds, who are blissfully unaware of the threat of evil in the world; and their teachers who sacrificially shield them from such danger, I thought of Mr. Roger's words to look for the helpers.

"When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.' To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother's words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers, so many caring people in this world." --Mr. Rogers

Mister Rogers - photo by Jim Judkis

As expressed by Diane Quigley on facebook, "WE can be the helpers...by creating a fabric of love, generosity, understanding and compassion. Smile and help someone today."

We can be the helpers. The first responders rushing into a building. The teachers standing in the gap for their students. The pastors and counselors and neighbors and volunteers offering prayer and a hug and a listening ear when there are no words. The family sacrificing to sponsor a child they may never meet halfway around the world. The car washes and bake sales and bracelet-making parties to furnish a school, find a cure, fight human trafficking. The stranger offering a smile, offering friendship. The teenager reaching out to the lonely, awkward, misunderstood classmate. The little boy giving up his dollar.

We can be the helpers.

Parenting Revamped

Things I never thought I'd say, and now say all the time:

On Sleeping:
"Go back to sleep until your alarm goes off! It's not time for school yet."

"You may get out of bed when the clock says 6:00.  No, 5:06 is not the same. The 6 has to be the first number."

"It's 6:30 and Paul's still sleeping. Do you think he's sick?"

On Eating:
"You've had enough fruit. You may not have any more fruit until after dinner."

"You ate all those carrots?"

"Just try one bite. It's a brownie. Just try it."

On Helping:
"Wow, that's a lot of dog poop. Yes, I'll tell Sam it's your job now. She'll be sad, I'm sure, but you're clearly better at it."

"We don't have time to clean your room right now. Besides, it's clean. Yes, we can clean it later."

"Here, use this knife to cut the pumpkin. It's sharper."

On Christmas:
"It's OK, don't worry. Santa won't come into our house. I know what your friends said, but I promise he's just pretend."

"But only the big kids know he's pretend, OK? It's kind of a surprise. Let's don't tell anybody."

"Well, Jesus isn't actually coming to His birthday party. He's watching from heaven. Yes, it's OK,  yes, you are going to your birthday party."

"Sunday. We light the candles on Sunday. I know it's hard to wait. Today is Tuesday. Five more sleeps. Then Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday."

"The shepherds and the wisemen didn't fight. No, the shepherds aren't ninjas."

"Joseph isn't a ninja, either. He's Jesus's second daddy. Well, yes, I guess that is kind of like a ninja."

On Playing:
"It's not a gun. It's a dove...piece of toast...banana..."

"Sit down and just watch TV for ten minutes. Please."

At home: "Inside voice, inside voice, inside voice." Anywhere else: "Use your words."

"Let's go downstairs and punch something."

"Sure, you can play with the duct tape."

Advent: Coming

Advent: 1) The arrival of a notable person, thing, or event. 2) Coming.

A time of preparation. Of waiting. Of anticipation.

For unto you a child is born. Unto you a son is given.

It is a precarious thing, this waiting. Two Christmases ago we waited. Waited on a Word from God that said yes, go, I am calling you to this, your family to this - home study, paperwork, adoption agency, financial leap, personal leap, Africa, a son. A time of preparation. We didn't know who or when or how. Only the promise - For you have done marvelous things, things planned long ago (Isaiah 25:1).

Last Christmas we waited. Waited in the agony of labor and anticipation of coming. We knew his name. Bits of his story. Bits of his struggle. When would we go? When would he come? No news. Worrisome news. Hope and then disappointment. Not us. Not yet. Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful (Hebrews 10:23).

 This Christmas we see the promise realized. A son is given. A family shifted and reknit. New colors, strands, personalities into a tapestry of hope and a future. Into forever. Joys and trials and blessings and struggles and perseverance and love. We see his face, hold his hands, delight in his smile. That which was promised. Not one word has failed of all the good things that the Lord your God has promised concerning you. All have come to pass for you; not one of them has failed (Joshua 23:14b).

And we light our candle and prepare for the Child and retell the stories of promises kept and hope renewed and futures reclaimed and families reknit. And we wait.