The other day, James picked up the first Harry Potter book and began reading.
"James," I asked, "haven't you already finished that book?"
"Well, Uncle Jim read it to us, so I have heard the story, but I haven't read it myself. So now I am going to."
A day later he asked what the date was. When I told him, he did some quick mental calculating, and then said, "Well, then, I read all seven Harry Potter books in 24 days."
"You are done already? You just started that book."
"Well the first one is one of the shortest," he explained, matter-of-factly.
Check. Mission accomplished.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Things that make you say "Hmm..."
I overheard John (3 yrs) say today, "Daddy, if I were not a person, I would want to be an astronaut, like you."
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Margaret is reading
It is just so much fun, as a parent, to watch this light come on. It has seemed like she has been ready for ages. Even a year ago, as she started kindergarten, I thought she would be reading "any day." But she seemed reluctant. She loved to read the little memorized poems that she brought home from school, but otherwise, wanted to be read to.
Over the summer, I saw her grow bolder. If I read a simple picture book to her a few times, then she would proudly volunteer to read it back to me. After that, she started volunteering to read these books to John. The repetition seemed to build her confidence quickly. Still, she was not willing to venture into "new" material.
Then, this week, she turned 6, and everything changed. I woke up one morning this week and found her already awake. Instead of slipping down and checking out the TV, like she would usually do if first awake, she was lying on her bed amidst a pile of picture books. She proudly announced to me that she had been reading them all.
I was really surprised in church today. I always try to get the kids to follow along with the service in the printed bulletin, and to sing the songs with the printed words (either in the bulletin or the hymnal). Each week, I use my finger to trace along in the hymnal with the words, in the hopes that James or Maggie will decide to pay attention and try to read the words.
I have almost never gotten any response from James, so I was almost about to abandon this endeavor, deciding kids just weren't ready until they could do it all on their own. (Then again, James the "child of many thoughts" doesn't really sing along in school choir programs either. He knows the songs, as evidenced by practices at home, but at the concert he just gazes about the room, in his own world.)
Still, I often forget that each child is different. So I was stunned today when Maggie joined in - loudly. She entered into a hymn she didn't know, in the middle of a phrase, singing lustily if not remotely in relation with the melody. She was beaming and my heart was soaring. Keeping up with a song while reading unfamiliar words was truly a new reading milestone, and she and I both knew it. We were both aware that this opens up a whole new level of participation for her at church - and I am as excited about that as she is. Now, if she could just teach James to read the hymns. (wink)
P.S. James has become a bit of a reading maniac himself. His Uncle Jim read out loud to the kids while we were all on vacation - the first Harry Potter book. Since we returned 3 weeks ago, James has plowed through the next Potter books, almost non-stop. He is almost done with number 6. Thank goodness for fencing camp in the afternoons last week or he might have molded himself into the recliner by now.
Over the summer, I saw her grow bolder. If I read a simple picture book to her a few times, then she would proudly volunteer to read it back to me. After that, she started volunteering to read these books to John. The repetition seemed to build her confidence quickly. Still, she was not willing to venture into "new" material.
Then, this week, she turned 6, and everything changed. I woke up one morning this week and found her already awake. Instead of slipping down and checking out the TV, like she would usually do if first awake, she was lying on her bed amidst a pile of picture books. She proudly announced to me that she had been reading them all.
I was really surprised in church today. I always try to get the kids to follow along with the service in the printed bulletin, and to sing the songs with the printed words (either in the bulletin or the hymnal). Each week, I use my finger to trace along in the hymnal with the words, in the hopes that James or Maggie will decide to pay attention and try to read the words.
I have almost never gotten any response from James, so I was almost about to abandon this endeavor, deciding kids just weren't ready until they could do it all on their own. (Then again, James the "child of many thoughts" doesn't really sing along in school choir programs either. He knows the songs, as evidenced by practices at home, but at the concert he just gazes about the room, in his own world.)
Still, I often forget that each child is different. So I was stunned today when Maggie joined in - loudly. She entered into a hymn she didn't know, in the middle of a phrase, singing lustily if not remotely in relation with the melody. She was beaming and my heart was soaring. Keeping up with a song while reading unfamiliar words was truly a new reading milestone, and she and I both knew it. We were both aware that this opens up a whole new level of participation for her at church - and I am as excited about that as she is. Now, if she could just teach James to read the hymns. (wink)
P.S. James has become a bit of a reading maniac himself. His Uncle Jim read out loud to the kids while we were all on vacation - the first Harry Potter book. Since we returned 3 weeks ago, James has plowed through the next Potter books, almost non-stop. He is almost done with number 6. Thank goodness for fencing camp in the afternoons last week or he might have molded himself into the recliner by now.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Margaret is 6
Margaret's sixth birthday was quite an extended celebration. Several months ago, I learned that I would need to travel for work right around the time of her birthday. The first proposal had me getting home too late to see her on her actual day. I asked her about this, and she bravely said that she would understand if I had to be gone, and we could celebrate when I got back. Thank goodness I trusted Mommy instinct on this one rather than her words, and also that I have some understanding and accomodating co-workers. Through some finagling, I managed to arrange flights to arrive home Sunday evening, just before her Monday birthday.
Then, shortly before the trip, Jeremy decided to throw a "family" party on Sunday, when those from out-of-town could visit. The list quickly grew, to perhaps the biggest gathering we have ever hosted: his parents, grandparents, sister & 3 kids, my dad, brother, aunt/uncle, aunt, and grandmother. With Jeremy and our 3 kids, that made for a full house. Unfortunately, Maggie now felt that this was a key part of her birthday and so felt betrayed that I wouldn't be there. (Sometimes you can't win with the mommy guilt.) Fortunately, having 18 people in the house seemed to keep her distracted enough when the day finally arrived.
I made it to the tail end of Jeremy's bash (the younger guests were still here). Then on Monday, Margaret wanted to have friends over. I had invited her friends before I left. Another example of Mommy guilt, I think, because she had been begging all summer to have a sleepover party. I had been saying, "Probably not" all summer, telling her she was too young still. But then, as I prepared for my trip, and she was acting clingy about my departure, of course I relented. After all, I hadn't been much older when I had my first slumber party, had I? (I don't actually recall. Which is why I need to use this blog to document the age of Maggie's first slumber party, so that I can talk her into letting her daughter have one someday!)
I was surprised that of the 3 girls who could come to the party, 2 wanted to stay over (and 1 RSVP'd that they would take us up on the offer to go home at bedtime). I was even more surprised that when her dad showed up at 8:00, that girl begged to stay after all. I was even more surprised that the evening passed without major incident. One girl got teary during a sad part of the movie ("Babe, Pig in the City") but the other girls were very caring and helpful, and she soon recovered with a hug and change of movie (to "Cinderella"). Other than that, there were no tears, no bed-wetting, no generally unpleasant consequences. And the only vomit came from James, who overate pizza, cake, and ice cream, and was asleep long before the younger girls.
The next morning the girls were still cheerful and playing together great. In fact, they all begged to extend the day beyond the 11 AM party's end. Here, I did put my foot down, knowing that the inevitable meltdown was coming (it did, around 4 PM for Maggie), and knowing that I didn't want it multiplied by other little girls. All in all, a rousing success. I might even try it again sometime. :)
Then, shortly before the trip, Jeremy decided to throw a "family" party on Sunday, when those from out-of-town could visit. The list quickly grew, to perhaps the biggest gathering we have ever hosted: his parents, grandparents, sister & 3 kids, my dad, brother, aunt/uncle, aunt, and grandmother. With Jeremy and our 3 kids, that made for a full house. Unfortunately, Maggie now felt that this was a key part of her birthday and so felt betrayed that I wouldn't be there. (Sometimes you can't win with the mommy guilt.) Fortunately, having 18 people in the house seemed to keep her distracted enough when the day finally arrived.
I made it to the tail end of Jeremy's bash (the younger guests were still here). Then on Monday, Margaret wanted to have friends over. I had invited her friends before I left. Another example of Mommy guilt, I think, because she had been begging all summer to have a sleepover party. I had been saying, "Probably not" all summer, telling her she was too young still. But then, as I prepared for my trip, and she was acting clingy about my departure, of course I relented. After all, I hadn't been much older when I had my first slumber party, had I? (I don't actually recall. Which is why I need to use this blog to document the age of Maggie's first slumber party, so that I can talk her into letting her daughter have one someday!)
I was surprised that of the 3 girls who could come to the party, 2 wanted to stay over (and 1 RSVP'd that they would take us up on the offer to go home at bedtime). I was even more surprised that when her dad showed up at 8:00, that girl begged to stay after all. I was even more surprised that the evening passed without major incident. One girl got teary during a sad part of the movie ("Babe, Pig in the City") but the other girls were very caring and helpful, and she soon recovered with a hug and change of movie (to "Cinderella"). Other than that, there were no tears, no bed-wetting, no generally unpleasant consequences. And the only vomit came from James, who overate pizza, cake, and ice cream, and was asleep long before the younger girls.
The next morning the girls were still cheerful and playing together great. In fact, they all begged to extend the day beyond the 11 AM party's end. Here, I did put my foot down, knowing that the inevitable meltdown was coming (it did, around 4 PM for Maggie), and knowing that I didn't want it multiplied by other little girls. All in all, a rousing success. I might even try it again sometime. :)
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
What is a church?
Warning: This post is a random, unrevised roaming of my thoughts. I would say a work in progress, but I don't know if I will ever make progress on it. Still, I needed to put shape to some of these ideas. Read at your own risk.
Tonight I met with our church's Worship Committee and Liturgy Team to view a video: Ancient Future Worship by Robert Webber. We only made it through about half of the video due to engaging discussion. We got really stuck on the section about "hospitality." It was interesting to hear the differing experiences of the 9 people gathered.
We revisited a concept that has stumped our Worship Committee many times in the past. Some people relay the glowing reports they have heard from visitors, about how our church is an incredibly welcoming church. Others, like myself, express a profound dismay at the lack of true Christian fellowship available even to long-time attenders, let alone newcomers.
The issue of post-church coffee time always is a focal point of such discussions. Our pastor relayed a tale that saddened him, that a family left our church after 7 years because they still didn't feel as though they had ever really been invited to become part of the body. One long-time member (40-ish, single, male) replied in some astonishment, "Oh, come on. You have a directory and a phone. Reach out yourself if you need to meet someone. I don't want to be cornered at coffee time and queried about my week. I just want to run. I am ready to leave." Now, to be fair, this man (who I have come to cherish during our 2 years of work together on this committee) is a lover of hyperbole and enjoys playing the curmudgeon. So he may have been overstating his case a bit. But, he goaded me all the same into a response.
"I totally disagree with you. We have had the same experience here In our first year in town, we probably visited a dozen churches. This was perhaps the least friendly. Then, after we were here probably about 5 years, we still had made no significant or lasting connections. We tried to find ways to get involved, but felt rebuffed at every attempt. Small groups we tried to join were full. Nobody asked us to serve in any way - we didn't even know what service opportunities were available. So, we started shopping, for nearly a year. Even now, after 11 years, I find it extremely uncomfortable during coffee time, because I rarely find a conversation, and if I do, it is painfully brief - so little to discuss."
A woman about my age piped up that she doesn't always feel up to a conversation after church herself. She is glad now to have a "job" of supervising her kids as they peruse the library, since it relieves her of a sense of duty to engage in chit-chat. Well, I could identify with that. Since John became mobile, coffee time is certainly less awkward for me. I am always too busy finding John to worry about whether I am standing dumbly and alone in the corner again. But I still long for the fellowship of the church we attended in Illinois, where we could hardly make it into the service or home for lunch because of all the "chit chat." I confess that I longed for that connection with our Christian family as much as for the time of worship itself.
After my various stories, the pastor looked at me in some bemusement and asked, "I must admit, I find myself wondering why you are still here after these experiences with our church." (Thankfully, this was asked in a welcoming tone implying that he was, in fact, glad that we are still here.) And I have to admit, I often wonder this, too. From all outward appearances, we are now firmly ensconced in this body. There is much here to love. And yet, I find that I have a roving heart.
I voted yesterday, in the church just down the street from us. I lingered after casting my ballot, gazing at the "family" photos all over the walls of this church. I found myself longing for what I saw captured there. So, on top of the pastor's comment, I had to wonder, what is it that I am really looking for?
Well, I think I have to go back, and trace our various decision points, many based on gut instinct. We first chose this church because it was the closest one to our house - we could walk to it. I couldn't explain why at the time, but I had always wanted to belong to a church that I could walk to. We liked the preaching, but the pastor soon left. I was uncomfortable with the lack of any apparent leadership roles for women. But, we kept coming back to the church closest to home. We couldn't be sure anything else was better, so why drive far away to get it? So, we stayed and trusted that the fellowship would follow.
It didn't. Eventually, after years, we looked around again. But now, we found we were comparing the welcoming hospitality of strangers at new churches to the friendly indifference of familiar faces. I suppose leaping from the pain you know to the unknown was just too intimidating. As I wrestled with the decision to leave, I was struck by an overheard comment: "If you find the perfect church, don't join it. You will ruin it." Convicted, I decided that I should stick it out and make it work at our current church. If I didn't feel fellowship, I could work to fix that. But jumping ship would be the equivalent of spiritual consumerism, not Christian fellowship and maturity. So, in that pivotal time, we committed. Finally, for the first time, though we had been members for years, I had decided in my heart that I was staying and would make it work.
Interestingly, and perhaps or perhaps not coincidentally, I think this is when things started to change, if slowly. I was asked to join the Nursery Committee. A terrible fit for me, but I took it. It was a start. At least I learned a few names and invested a bit of time. Then, Jeremy was asked to be a deacon. Now, our names were known, at least. I was invited to join Worship Committee. As part of Council, Jeremy was instrumental in changes that allowed for women to take on more substantial leadership roles. Women elders had been "allowable" for some time, but it never practically occurred. So, as Jeremy's term ended, I found myself selected as the first ever female elder at this church. Suddenly, I was charged with spiritual and practical leadership of the church I had been only ambivalently attached to for so long. We have begun not merely inhabiting this church, but shaping it and forming it as we also grow and mature in Christ. My commitment is now made in the form of official vows, which I do not take lightly. We are here. So, yesterday, why did I still look longingly at the photos of the church family at the church just down the road from our new home?
Ultimately, I think I cannot underestimate the role of community in a church. Church is not a place to "drop in" and sing a song and hear a sermon. Church is a living body. It is organic as well as spiritual as well as physical. As a child, my family belonged for some time to a church in the next town, a 15 minute drive from home. Most of the other families were from the church's town, and the kids attended school together. The kids might walk together to visit at someone's house while their parents stayed late for an adult education session. They belonged. Even as I made an occasional friend, I never felt that I did belong there. My invitations were rare, and left me feeling like a fish out of water as I didn't know the neighborhoods or routines. A middle schooler has so little tolerance for these feelings.
The first church I picked "myself" was our church in Illinois. We went there the first week and never went anywhere else. We were embraced immediately. We knew people and they knew us. We visited, in and out of church. It was still a 15-minute drive, but I was content. And bereaved when we left. I think as we came to our new town, I was looking to fill this hole.
Perhaps that is why I so longed for a church that I could walk to. I didn't want a church to visit on Sunday mornings. I wanted to place ourselves in a place and be a part of it. I wanted to belong fully to a community, to be part of the "in crowd," even.
Now, 11 years later, I am part of the in-crowd, in many ways. Jeremy and I have both held leadership roles. We are known by more people than we know in return. We love and are loved by many in our church. So why do I still sometimes feel a wandering heart? Is it physical? We have moved to a new neighborhood. Do I just long to again be able to walk to our church? Or perhaps I suffer from a deep-seated inability to commit? Am I still, at some level, more interested in what church can do for me than in what I can offer? Or perhaps, I am in love with a fantasy. The photos of the nearby church showed a true family - folks sharing their lives. I may claim to want that, but am I willing to give up something I already have to make room for that?
In the end, I have raised more questions for myself than answers. But I think the questions are important. And I think the answers are things that I should seek to find in community - my church community. Whatever that might mean.
Tonight I met with our church's Worship Committee and Liturgy Team to view a video: Ancient Future Worship by Robert Webber. We only made it through about half of the video due to engaging discussion. We got really stuck on the section about "hospitality." It was interesting to hear the differing experiences of the 9 people gathered.
We revisited a concept that has stumped our Worship Committee many times in the past. Some people relay the glowing reports they have heard from visitors, about how our church is an incredibly welcoming church. Others, like myself, express a profound dismay at the lack of true Christian fellowship available even to long-time attenders, let alone newcomers.
The issue of post-church coffee time always is a focal point of such discussions. Our pastor relayed a tale that saddened him, that a family left our church after 7 years because they still didn't feel as though they had ever really been invited to become part of the body. One long-time member (40-ish, single, male) replied in some astonishment, "Oh, come on. You have a directory and a phone. Reach out yourself if you need to meet someone. I don't want to be cornered at coffee time and queried about my week. I just want to run. I am ready to leave." Now, to be fair, this man (who I have come to cherish during our 2 years of work together on this committee) is a lover of hyperbole and enjoys playing the curmudgeon. So he may have been overstating his case a bit. But, he goaded me all the same into a response.
"I totally disagree with you. We have had the same experience here In our first year in town, we probably visited a dozen churches. This was perhaps the least friendly. Then, after we were here probably about 5 years, we still had made no significant or lasting connections. We tried to find ways to get involved, but felt rebuffed at every attempt. Small groups we tried to join were full. Nobody asked us to serve in any way - we didn't even know what service opportunities were available. So, we started shopping, for nearly a year. Even now, after 11 years, I find it extremely uncomfortable during coffee time, because I rarely find a conversation, and if I do, it is painfully brief - so little to discuss."
A woman about my age piped up that she doesn't always feel up to a conversation after church herself. She is glad now to have a "job" of supervising her kids as they peruse the library, since it relieves her of a sense of duty to engage in chit-chat. Well, I could identify with that. Since John became mobile, coffee time is certainly less awkward for me. I am always too busy finding John to worry about whether I am standing dumbly and alone in the corner again. But I still long for the fellowship of the church we attended in Illinois, where we could hardly make it into the service or home for lunch because of all the "chit chat." I confess that I longed for that connection with our Christian family as much as for the time of worship itself.
After my various stories, the pastor looked at me in some bemusement and asked, "I must admit, I find myself wondering why you are still here after these experiences with our church." (Thankfully, this was asked in a welcoming tone implying that he was, in fact, glad that we are still here.) And I have to admit, I often wonder this, too. From all outward appearances, we are now firmly ensconced in this body. There is much here to love. And yet, I find that I have a roving heart.
I voted yesterday, in the church just down the street from us. I lingered after casting my ballot, gazing at the "family" photos all over the walls of this church. I found myself longing for what I saw captured there. So, on top of the pastor's comment, I had to wonder, what is it that I am really looking for?
Well, I think I have to go back, and trace our various decision points, many based on gut instinct. We first chose this church because it was the closest one to our house - we could walk to it. I couldn't explain why at the time, but I had always wanted to belong to a church that I could walk to. We liked the preaching, but the pastor soon left. I was uncomfortable with the lack of any apparent leadership roles for women. But, we kept coming back to the church closest to home. We couldn't be sure anything else was better, so why drive far away to get it? So, we stayed and trusted that the fellowship would follow.
It didn't. Eventually, after years, we looked around again. But now, we found we were comparing the welcoming hospitality of strangers at new churches to the friendly indifference of familiar faces. I suppose leaping from the pain you know to the unknown was just too intimidating. As I wrestled with the decision to leave, I was struck by an overheard comment: "If you find the perfect church, don't join it. You will ruin it." Convicted, I decided that I should stick it out and make it work at our current church. If I didn't feel fellowship, I could work to fix that. But jumping ship would be the equivalent of spiritual consumerism, not Christian fellowship and maturity. So, in that pivotal time, we committed. Finally, for the first time, though we had been members for years, I had decided in my heart that I was staying and would make it work.
Interestingly, and perhaps or perhaps not coincidentally, I think this is when things started to change, if slowly. I was asked to join the Nursery Committee. A terrible fit for me, but I took it. It was a start. At least I learned a few names and invested a bit of time. Then, Jeremy was asked to be a deacon. Now, our names were known, at least. I was invited to join Worship Committee. As part of Council, Jeremy was instrumental in changes that allowed for women to take on more substantial leadership roles. Women elders had been "allowable" for some time, but it never practically occurred. So, as Jeremy's term ended, I found myself selected as the first ever female elder at this church. Suddenly, I was charged with spiritual and practical leadership of the church I had been only ambivalently attached to for so long. We have begun not merely inhabiting this church, but shaping it and forming it as we also grow and mature in Christ. My commitment is now made in the form of official vows, which I do not take lightly. We are here. So, yesterday, why did I still look longingly at the photos of the church family at the church just down the road from our new home?
Ultimately, I think I cannot underestimate the role of community in a church. Church is not a place to "drop in" and sing a song and hear a sermon. Church is a living body. It is organic as well as spiritual as well as physical. As a child, my family belonged for some time to a church in the next town, a 15 minute drive from home. Most of the other families were from the church's town, and the kids attended school together. The kids might walk together to visit at someone's house while their parents stayed late for an adult education session. They belonged. Even as I made an occasional friend, I never felt that I did belong there. My invitations were rare, and left me feeling like a fish out of water as I didn't know the neighborhoods or routines. A middle schooler has so little tolerance for these feelings.
The first church I picked "myself" was our church in Illinois. We went there the first week and never went anywhere else. We were embraced immediately. We knew people and they knew us. We visited, in and out of church. It was still a 15-minute drive, but I was content. And bereaved when we left. I think as we came to our new town, I was looking to fill this hole.
Perhaps that is why I so longed for a church that I could walk to. I didn't want a church to visit on Sunday mornings. I wanted to place ourselves in a place and be a part of it. I wanted to belong fully to a community, to be part of the "in crowd," even.
Now, 11 years later, I am part of the in-crowd, in many ways. Jeremy and I have both held leadership roles. We are known by more people than we know in return. We love and are loved by many in our church. So why do I still sometimes feel a wandering heart? Is it physical? We have moved to a new neighborhood. Do I just long to again be able to walk to our church? Or perhaps I suffer from a deep-seated inability to commit? Am I still, at some level, more interested in what church can do for me than in what I can offer? Or perhaps, I am in love with a fantasy. The photos of the nearby church showed a true family - folks sharing their lives. I may claim to want that, but am I willing to give up something I already have to make room for that?
In the end, I have raised more questions for myself than answers. But I think the questions are important. And I think the answers are things that I should seek to find in community - my church community. Whatever that might mean.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)