Last Sunday at church the children played a very central role in the Palm service. Each Sunday School class had a role: leading the Lord's Prayer, playing the bells, acolytes. Children were polished and scrubbed, ready to do their very best.
When the class lined up beneath the altar to perform their song, the cameras came out, ready to capture each child's part of the service. I was proud that my daughter was basically front and center, and did a wonderful job. In fact, they both were, and both did!
But afterwards I began thinking about those cameras clicking and videoing away. I wonder what kind of message is being sent? We were recording their performance, and overshadowing the importance of the day. If they are so focused on doing their part right, are they receiving anything from the message? When church becomes a show, do we lose the reflection?
Wednesday, April 20
Saturday, April 9
A Little Respect
I just got off the phone with my local police department.
My neighbors are having a party. Which is fine, really. I am all for having a good time. But not at the expense of someone else.
My parents raised me to know better than that. I would never have the gumption to play music at that volume level. Just because I like it doesn't mean that everyone does. They should be able to enjoy the comfort of their home by enjoying the comfort of their home! And tonight, well, it just wasn't that comfortable.
A few weeks ago my husband and I looked at each other and lamented that we didn't sell our house last summer when we had the chance.
Everything happens for a reason, that's what I always say. Let's just add this onto the journey to reason.
But we'll do it quietly, and respectfully.
My neighbors are having a party. Which is fine, really. I am all for having a good time. But not at the expense of someone else.
My parents raised me to know better than that. I would never have the gumption to play music at that volume level. Just because I like it doesn't mean that everyone does. They should be able to enjoy the comfort of their home by enjoying the comfort of their home! And tonight, well, it just wasn't that comfortable.
A few weeks ago my husband and I looked at each other and lamented that we didn't sell our house last summer when we had the chance.
Everything happens for a reason, that's what I always say. Let's just add this onto the journey to reason.
But we'll do it quietly, and respectfully.
Monday, April 4
Oh, Great...
Saturdays in Spring grow increasingly busy for our family as the children get older (and grow in number!). Birthday parties are in abundance. And other commitments: Girl Scouts, sports, school.
Saturday night we went on a "family date," as I coined the night. We dressed up pretty, the girls in dresses, mommy in high heels. My husband and I decided to take our family not to our usual barbeque family restaurant, but a nicer venue, in the center of town, on the one of the quaint main streets. We'd been there 6 months before for our anniversary, and while it was fancy, their website termed them "family friendly," so off we went.
We even had to make a reservation. An appointment to meet! Quite a feat for a family of six.
We were seated upstairs in the restaurant, near the TV showing the NCAA games and the bar. We ascended the stairs and rounded the corner, following the maitre 'd in a line, one by one, looking a bit like an emptying clown car. We passed a table where a man and a woman were seated. As I walked by, I heard him say, "oh, great."
It didn't really dawn on me until I had sat the children down what he had said. Nor did it dawn on me until afterward that I should have brought his inappropriate comment to light.
What was he expecting? Do my husband and I not have a right to take our family out to dinner? Do we not have a right to enjoy the offerings of our town because we have children?
My children behaved perfectly. Because children can. They used their manners. They sat still. They colored. They talked. They ate their food. They did not fling their food (or their poo, as I am sure this man was expecting). They did not cry. They did not whine. (The only wine was the Pinot Grigio in my glass.)
Unfortunately, the man and the woman did not see this. In their judgement, they had asked for their check shortly after we arrived, and made a show of their departure, casting disapproving glances in our direction. That is their loss.
When we arrived home we asked the girls, "How was our family date night?"
Their response? "Oh! Great!"
Saturday night we went on a "family date," as I coined the night. We dressed up pretty, the girls in dresses, mommy in high heels. My husband and I decided to take our family not to our usual barbeque family restaurant, but a nicer venue, in the center of town, on the one of the quaint main streets. We'd been there 6 months before for our anniversary, and while it was fancy, their website termed them "family friendly," so off we went.
We even had to make a reservation. An appointment to meet! Quite a feat for a family of six.
We were seated upstairs in the restaurant, near the TV showing the NCAA games and the bar. We ascended the stairs and rounded the corner, following the maitre 'd in a line, one by one, looking a bit like an emptying clown car. We passed a table where a man and a woman were seated. As I walked by, I heard him say, "oh, great."
It didn't really dawn on me until I had sat the children down what he had said. Nor did it dawn on me until afterward that I should have brought his inappropriate comment to light.
What was he expecting? Do my husband and I not have a right to take our family out to dinner? Do we not have a right to enjoy the offerings of our town because we have children?
My children behaved perfectly. Because children can. They used their manners. They sat still. They colored. They talked. They ate their food. They did not fling their food (or their poo, as I am sure this man was expecting). They did not cry. They did not whine. (The only wine was the Pinot Grigio in my glass.)
Unfortunately, the man and the woman did not see this. In their judgement, they had asked for their check shortly after we arrived, and made a show of their departure, casting disapproving glances in our direction. That is their loss.
When we arrived home we asked the girls, "How was our family date night?"
Their response? "Oh! Great!"
Friday, April 1
A Little Luxury
Last Friday afternoon was very quiet in my house. Two of the children were down for naps, and my oldest was not going to be coming home from school, as she had been invited to a friend's house for a playdate. The baby enjoyed a leisurely nursing session, and cuddled up in my arms, fast asleep. I gently carried her to her bassinet, and laid her down. I returned back downstairs and stood in my silently still living room.
It was quiet.
I had much work to do, as the following morning 7 little girls would enter our home dressed in their princess-y finest and enjoy a princess tea party, painting their princess fingernails, and princess birthday cake.
Bags were strewn across my kitchen containing all sorts of goodies for goody bags and birthday merriment: candy lipstick, silly bandz, nail polish, princess fruit snacks. Cake flour, butter, sugar. Princess cups and princess plates.
The Princess's royal living room was a royal mess of toys and fun, Polly Pockets and Barbies, and the remnants of an "inside picnic" lunch.
But the house was so still, with three Sleeping Beauties in their beds.
I turned back towards the stairs and climbed up. I cozied into my husband's side of the bed, and snuggled into his pillow and the covers. The baby's rythmic breathing, soft and quiet, lulled me from across the room. And I slept. At three in the afternoon. A little bit of luxury for a mommy of four.
It was quiet.
I had much work to do, as the following morning 7 little girls would enter our home dressed in their princess-y finest and enjoy a princess tea party, painting their princess fingernails, and princess birthday cake.
Bags were strewn across my kitchen containing all sorts of goodies for goody bags and birthday merriment: candy lipstick, silly bandz, nail polish, princess fruit snacks. Cake flour, butter, sugar. Princess cups and princess plates.
The Princess's royal living room was a royal mess of toys and fun, Polly Pockets and Barbies, and the remnants of an "inside picnic" lunch.
But the house was so still, with three Sleeping Beauties in their beds.
I turned back towards the stairs and climbed up. I cozied into my husband's side of the bed, and snuggled into his pillow and the covers. The baby's rythmic breathing, soft and quiet, lulled me from across the room. And I slept. At three in the afternoon. A little bit of luxury for a mommy of four.
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