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Monthly Archives: January 2010

Haiti: a time to be silent; a time to speak

We have been blindsided by the stories and images coming out of Haiti, after the devastating earthquake. A frequent question from parents, now and at past similar events, is how to support children to move from worry and fear, to compassion and care for others. This is a challenging parenting task, dealing with our own fears and grief while reflecting confidence to our children about faith, safety and humanity. You’d think we’d be good at this–for certainly no parent, throughout time, has been able to make it through the parenting years without a catastrophe in the family, town or world. And yet, this part of parenting doesn’t always come naturally.

Prepare and insulate. Commit to caring for children (and even teens) enough to set aside your hunger for news, to turn the TV, radio and screen media off. The motivation for network television is ratings, not conveying news in such a way that is appropriate for children. Even if you think your children are not paying attention, the tone of the news reporter’s voice and the emotional soundtrack, will draw children in. The images and shocking stories will make your conversations nearly impossible to move children from fear to empowered caring. This may mean avoiding waiting rooms with television or having a conversation with unaware grandparents, and it will take purpose and intention.

Don’t sugar coat. We all know sugar is bad for children–even when it’s used to cover up bad news. Present your child with the information they NEED to know in an age appropriate way. Preschool children have very few tools to deal with news like the ground shaking, and buildings falling on people. They do not have the skills of abstraction to know it is not imminent to them. Focus on tangible ways they can help–they can understand you saying, “I heard about some people that need shoes. Could we look in your closet to see if there is an extra pair of shoes to share?” Elementary children are likely to have heard about such a catastrophe from sources other than you. The facts could be tainted-but in the case of Haiti, the facts are scary enough. Even though they have the capacity to reason it happened far away, in a fault area, with bad building codes, their worry and emotions can easily get the best of them. Help them know that they are safe, but more importantly, let them know they are loved. Assure them that sometimes, even in our own lives, sad things happen, but you will always seek to protect them, be on their side and love them, no matter what. You are the closest thing to a Good Shepherd they will physically know. Teens seem so tough, but they may be the most vulnerable to such events because they may be more bombarded by sensational media and social networks. Their immense concern, can give way to despair and hopelessness if they feel like their help is just a drop in the ocean. Confront this directly by saying (and modeling) that they need to limit absorbing and worrying about the events, and try to find ways to help. Teens need to know the justice that comes from empowerment to affect change, instead of feeling hopeless and helpless at a seemingly overwhelming situation.

I hear Rachel crying for her children. Listen. Give way to your own sadness and grief, in ways that convey to your children empathy, but doesn’t scare them. Pull out the candles and dust off the prayers! And cry deeply in the shower. It is impossible to not see the images and hear the stories, without our own hearts breaking. Empathy is a wonderful human emotion. When we mark the sadness in tangible and hopeful ways we provide tools for our children to recognize the presence of the divine in others and themselves. Seek out ways, either in families or faith communities, for spiritual direction, such as storytelling, wondering and singing in community. Children at St. Martin’s are hearing in their Godly Play Sunday School the parables of the Good Shepherd, Good Samaritan, Great Pearl and Mustard Seed soon. These stories guide children to wonder about being cared for in a scary place or time, an inclusive kingdom, value, worth and a global neighborhood.

Don’t drag the wrath of God into this! Avoid language that would convey that God caused such suffering or is in some way punishing someone. Bad things happen, and have been happening for all of history. If we have faith in a merciful, loving God, we know that God is crying, too, when any children of the Earth are hurting. This is surely the most paramount teachable moment that comes from a disaster. When children know that God doesn’t take sides or toss lightening bolts at the wicked, they are empowered to love each other as God loves them. If that happens one by one, there WILL be peace on earth, even amid earthquakes, tornadoes and floods.

Share with each other. Children and youth model what they see in their family. Use tragedies such as this to become a family that donates time, energy and resources to others with no other motivation than to help your global neighbor.

 
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Posted by on January 19, 2010 in Uncategorized

 

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Mothers of Young Children

All day I’ve been recalling a time about fifteen years ago, when I fell into the category of being a “mother of a young child.”

When my oldest daughter, Navy, was about 3 months old, our little trio of a family was temporarily re-located to the happiest place on earth, Disney World. Well, to be fair and specific, we lived “off-property” in Orlando, and Duke went to work everyday at the giant sun-dial building (Team Disney building) designed by Arata Isosaki. The move was supposed to be short–6 weeks, but extended into almost a year. I had gone back to work when Navy was 6 weeks old–and was ecstatic to get to be a stay at home mom, but sad to leave family and friends behind with my ever changing infant. Other than Duke and baby Navy, my first weeks in Florida, I only met one other wife/mother (of a 5, 7 and 9 year olds) and the cleaning lady for our room at the Residence Inn. (She was from Laos and didn’t speak a word of English, but was very nice.)

And then I met Chiquita.

Chiquita’s husband worked with Duke in the sun-dial building and she, too, had a 3 month old baby girl. We hit it off. Soon, we began to fill our days doing baby and mom things together. We’d go to Gymboree and Discovery Zone. We had serious conversations about what was rumored to be found in the ball pit, but climbed in anyway with our baby girls. We were fellow skeptics of Florida–she hailing from Washington D.C. and I from Texas. (Florida had giant bugs and an alligator in every duck pond.) We worried over buying the best first pair of little white shoes for our girls to walk in. If she needed to go somewhere, I would babysit. If I needed to go somewhere, she would babysit. I missed my friends and family in Texas. She missed her friends and family in Washington D.C. We’d rejoice together over Navy and Gabby’s new teeth, new foods and first steps.

I convinced her to go to the “Southern Women’s Expo” which was a JCPenney style show and whoever was on the cover of People magazine as the keynote speaker. Upon leaving she said, “Well that wasn’t too bad. I guess I expected lawn jockeys by the door.” We giggled hysterically and we both shed some thin and almost invisible prejudices. She was my first friend that I got to know because of our children. She was brilliant and hilarious and she was a part of making Florida bearable.

I wonder if scientists were to study humans in their wild, native habitat (like Florida) they might observe something about mothers of young children? I wonder if they might observe such mothers cling to each other in those formative years–learning this new role of motherhood? I wonder if young mothers come armed with their history (or baggage) of being mothered, but are fed and supported by their peers in those formative years? Almost saying to each other, “You can do this, and I’m here to do it right beside you.” I remember this. I have been the receiver and giver of this many times since, and have seen it in others, most recently and frequently in the St. Martin’s Mothers of Young Children group.

I’m now the mother of an adolescent. I’ve have countless, golden wonderful friendships with people I have met through my children. I cherish them all in how they have informed my life and mothering.

This morning, the first words I heard was that “Chiquita Durham died.” It took me a second to swish the cobwebs in my brain away to remember how important that name is. Our friendship was short. They went back to D.C. and we came back to Texas, and we lost touch. She evidently has been fighting cancer for some time. I’ve remembered her all day. She was the little girl I blessed at the end of Godly Play, she was the woman I bumped into at Lowe’s and she was the old woman I let over on the freeway. This was a good day to remember her wonderful friendship and to honor the spirit of loving support we give each other as we parent.

My dear Chiquita, rest in peace.

 
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Posted by on January 13, 2010 in Uncategorized

 

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