Time for a little listen

“Grandma,” my very tall 11-year old grandson instructed patiently, “Put your fingers over the laces, like this.”  We were having a lesson in how to throw a football. 

“That’s right,” he said encouragingly.   “But your pinky doesn’t need to be way out there.  Keep your pinky closer to your other fingers.  Like this.”  I studied his eyes to see if he was making a little joke.  He wasn’t.  Those eyes, a little taller than mine, were quite earnest.  So even though it amused me greatly to hear where to place my pinky on a football, my expression remained serious and attentive.

I resisted the impulse to gather him in a great hug and tell him how wonderful he is to honor me with football throwing instructions. 

I am learning to bless these grandsons and nearly everybody who comes into my experience more consistently.  By that I mean I am learning to pray better for and about them.

For instance a couple of weeks ago the two boys and I were having dinner, and they started provoking and insulting each other and paying no attention to anything I said to diffuse the escalating taunting.

I sat back and mentally withdrew from the verbal chaos to have a little listen with God.  It was important to hear what She knew about these kids.  Right there, right then, I could honor their goodness, their intelligence, their caring, their respectfulness -- qualities that seemed to be missing.

Suddenly it was quiet.  The conversation changed, and that was the end of the nastiness.

 The transformed atmosphere startled me into gratitude and an awareness that my thoughts, more than my words, were what mattered.  They hadn’t heard my words, but they responded to recognition of their true nature as God knew them.

Just as that boy placed my fingers where they belonged to make a decent throw, so a loving God places each of us where we are intended to be a blessing.  And She insists that we be that blessing.

If God's love is unconditional, then . . .

My grandson spent the night last night.  He was worn out, he said, from the previous Scout overnight, and would just like to chill.  So we chilled.  

We had macaroni for lunch, watched a good family film.  At dinner after he had said his grace, I took his hand and thanked God out loud for our special time together; and appreciated out loud some nice things about the boy.  As I look up after the Amen, he had a sweet smile of self-discovery.  Later we went for a walk in the neighborhood, and then he worked on his homework.

He asked a question about Jesus that came straight from his faith background - which I simply turned back to him, “What do you think?”  His answer told me he was wrestling with whether or not the Bible was valid.  At the wise age of 11 he has concluded, so far, that it is.

As he was ready to fall asleep, I reopened the Jesus subject with these ideas.  “Among Christian religions there are different opinions about Jesus.  Some believe he is God; and some believe he is the Son of God.  The important thing is that God is always with us, loving us.  And Jesus came to show us how to be good and do good.  And besides that, God loves us unconditionally.”

His eyebrows shot up, so I continued, “There is nothing you or I could do to ever make God love us less.”

One of life's many great journeys

Then the forever question, “What about Hitler?”  He was also asking, unspoken, “What about evil people?  Does God love them?  Does God allow evil?” 

“I think God does not like evil.  But he gives people good and useful ideas to stop evil things from happening.  But we have to act on these ideas.  We have to be willing to stop evil.”

Long silence as he thought on these things.  And just before he closed his eyes, “Grandma?"

"Yes?"

"Then we wouldn’t need a hell.”

“No,” I smiled. “We wouldn’t need a hell.”

Redemption for Harold?

Music Man cast takes its curtain call
(phone photo)

The Junior High presented its annual musical last night -- the Music Man.

My grandsons are not in Jr. High yet; and they enjoyed seeing their role models succeed.

It was difficult to imagine in advance how they could pull off some of the trickier scenes, such as the opener in the train. Half a dozen salesmen discuss their trade to the rhythm of the train clacking over the tracks. And we are introduced to their nemesis, Professor Harold Hill.

Then come the talk-a-little-pick-a-little songs by the women of River City, Iowa. Skillyfully carried off!

The kids rose to the occasion. The director must have been very happy for them.

The Music Man is great as a musical. Not so great as a believable story. It's hard to believe Marian-the-Librarian and Harold really will live happily ever after.

But perhaps that's the message: redemption. Maybe he would be a good dad for Winthrop. Harold has already taken him fishing and taught him to have confidence in himself. These are the slender signs on which Marian pins her hopes.

Redemption is huge in the Christian tradition. The various faiths hold that selfishness, greed, lust can be redeemed, and that an honest and useful citizen (i.e. the new man) can replace the deceitful one (the old man). That's what prison ministries are all about.

My hope lies in what I believe to be everyone's innate desire and ability to connect in a meaningful way with their life purpose; to discover strength and fulfillment in an unselfish life, in doing good for others. To find their God to be good and present and active in their lives.

Unspoken trusts

Halloween finery

It's totally secular, Halloween.

Some people decorate their yards with enthusiasm, ghosts, and fake skeletons. Or maybe in the window just a string of pumpkin lights from the Dollar Store.

Kids creatively attired scamper from door to door for treats.

The young man in the amazing tall hat prepared a great spaghetti dinner last night. We had dropped his brother off at soccer practice and I suggested that he be the chef, and I would be his helper. He could tell me what to do.

He rolled that idea around the back of his mind while he talked about other things on the way home. I was careful to give him space to do that mental rolling. Could he trust me to really let him be in charge? Would I really do as he said?

Once settled in the kitchen, he asked, "So, what are we having for dinner?"

He viewed the spaghetti ingredients, then said, "OK, Grandma, you can slice the onions." I sliced and diced cheerfully. Thus began a delightful dinner preparation time together.

It's significant that I'm learning to really pray about each encounter with the grandchildren. It's especially important that our times together be good ones, because the boys are beginning to find their own activities now. We don't have overnights every week like we did when they were younger.

When I am able to really glimpse something of the oneness of God's good purpose, and to be clear that only one intelligent and caring Mind is in control, things go better.

Sometimes things go wonderfully.

The chef/helper idea was, for me, an inspiration from that one Mind. When it popped into my thinking, I realized it had come for a purpose. So I tossed it into the conversational mix.

The result was spectacularly joyous. I am incredibly grateful for these small gifts, these little joys, that add up.

Mothering

A calf naps on clean straw

at Kline Farm

Having my grandsons spend the night one-on-one is always special.

I pray a lot about these boys, because it seems important. My prayers include gratitude that the God whom I consider Father-Mother, fathers and mothers all children; and fathers and mothers their fathers and mothers. This caring God gives every one of His/Her children good ideas and the ability to follow through on these good ideas. And it is the nature of each of His/Her children to listen and honor what God is telling and showing them about their innate goodness and love.

While the boys’ dad was in the hospital for too long, both grandmas ran the household and became the disciplinarians. It was not always easy. Now that he is home and things are settled again, I’m watching again for overnight opportunities.

Last night the older boy and I went to a model railroad club in Elmhurst. Serendipitously we met a real engineer, now promoted to a manager of engineers. He and his son were first-time visitors as we were. Once we discovered his genuineness, my grandson plied him with questions, and he generously shared both funny and harrowing experiences.

My grandson chattered non-stop all the way home – about 45 minutes. I listened.

A "Lamb's only"
feeding station -- the doorway
is too small for full-grown sheep

At home we watched West Side Story. He cried at the end as Tony died in Maria’s arms. We discovered this special edition DVD included the complete script. To brighten things up, we sang our favorite songs: “I feel pretty!”; “Officer Krupke”; the wonderful rooftop dance where the Puerto Rican girls sing their delight at being in America, and their boyfriends counterpoint with their frustrations about America.

At the playground this morning, I warbled, “I feel charming, oh so charming! It’s alarming how charming I feel!” (Maria is singing about her great joy in having shared a kiss with Tony.) My grandson, who is convinced girls and kissing are yucky, sang back, “I feel weird, oh so weird; it’s alarming how weird I feel!”

That laughter established the tone for the rest of the day, and we set off for the Kline Farm – an 1890s living history farm run by DuPage County. We took the guided tour of the genuine Victorian farmhouse; took photos of lambs and calfs, and laughed some more.

The naturalness of mothering

It all felt genuine. I felt so much God’s fathering and mothering our time together. I cannot imagine anything happier than that sweet and gentle presence. And I wish this for everyone.

Is this my conversation?

Kids =

creativity and...

wisdom

An old hymn offers a prayer for help in speaking only kind and right words:
"Take my lips and let them be
Filled with messages from Thee…”

– And keep them closed the rest of the time!
The third line is my personal addition.

One of the graces that blesses relationships is knowing when to speak and when to keep silent. Recently my third-grade grandson helped me figure this out.

He and I were working at one end of the kitchen. At the other end of the room, his brother and his other grandmother were doing homework. Voices rose, and I chimed in, all the way across the room, with an opinion.

My grandson, standing beside me, quietly pointed out, “Grandma, that isn’t your conversation.”

My know-it-all comment jolted to a halt. “You’re right!” I said to the little guy. “What you just said is so helpful!”

I have since been pondering what is my conversation and what is not. I realized the answer to this question has to do with respect. Respecting others’ conversations means not jumping in uninvited. How totally simple.

In fact it’s so easy, I think I can do it. Apparently what’s required is breaking an old habit.

I like what Mary Baker Eddy says about struggling to do the right thing – that it’s a prayer in action. “The habitual struggle to be always good is unceasing prayer.”

I’m sure I will have plenty of opportunity this coming week to live that prayer!

Unobtrusive prayer

Everyone has music within them

I have been praying to upgrade my relationship with my grandsons when we are together. If prayer is interactive, I figure my part in this prayer means being aware of the presence of one infinitely good Mind in charge of our day.

This has reaped great results. Last week, for instance, they built a fabulous snow fort – their idea and without my help.

This week the morning began with video games. Ugh. However, putting my prayers into practice, I did not launch into the adult "can't you find something better to do?" lecture; I backed off and thanked God that He/She was already giving the boys good ideas. And that it is their nature to listen to those good ideas.

After an hour or so, they turned the game off, and soon live music drifted down the staircase. The younger boy was plunking away on his keyboard, and the older boy was strumming his guitar. Never mind that neither one had any idea how to play, or how to write music. They were writing a song.

The boys conspired together on a macaroni concoction for dinner and were pleased with the results. “Don’t tell Dad it’s spicy!” they begged. “Let him find out!” (Dad likes “spicy,” so it would be a happy surprise.)

Afterwards the older boy wanted to play guitar again, but his brother was busy playing a computer game, so I sat down at the keyboard. Using the five notes to which the guitar strings are tuned, I played little melodies around those, while he strummed away.

Inspired, he reached over and touched a couple of preset buttons on the keyboard, and suddenly we had drum rhythms for my five notes. Soon his younger brother came in to see what all the fun was about, took my place at the keyboard, and by the time Dad came home, the boys were well into a musical evening.

God is so cool!

Why we didn't go to the Arboretum

We went to the library instead

Tuesday the grandsons had no school. The parents both had to work, and my partner in grandmothering had just taken her turn, so it was mine.

Although I was available, and happy to help, I harbored some anxiety, because when the two are together they tend to bounce off each other – exponentially. My comfort zone is one boy at a time, and that has worked very well.

At the same time I prayed that God would show us our useful and constructive relationship together. This down-time from school didn’t need to be stressful for anyone. God's goodness fills each day, and it is our nature to participate in that goodness.

It promised to be one of the last gorgeous October days, and a great one for going to The Morton Arboretum – that wonderful living “tree and shrub museum” west of Chicago. I grab any excuse to go there, and the boys enjoy walking or running the trails.

So Tuesday came, and I arrived at their house. Their dad had already gone, and as their mom was leaving, she mentioned an Arboretum trip to them as a possibility.

The boys fixed breakfast – one preparing pancakes, the other scrambling eggs. This comes of having a dad who enjoys gourmet cooking as a hobby!

They had just created an original Lego village, and spent most of the morning engaged in Lego guy adventures.

Here is where I was pleased to see some progress, some good growing, on my part. An intuition said, "Let the boys chill." Intuitions, for me, are angel messages -- a little voice that gives us good advice. One way to tell that it's good advice is that it is usually unselfish and often blesses many rather than just one.

I'm learning that my day goes much smoother when I pay attention to these intuitions. So for once I didn’t push. The boys didn’t mention the Arboretum, so neither did I.

After lunch it seemed important to get out into the sunshine, so we walked to the library a mile away. We poked around the bookshelves and read awhile until the younger boy was ready to check out a football novel.

The lure of sunshine and the blue sky kept the boys outside the rest of the afternoon.

This day was different in a really good way. It was outstandingly simple and happy. Almost effortless. What a lesson for me in discovering the rewards of listening!

Nineteenth Century religious leader,Mary Baker Eddy, defined angels as

"God's thoughts passing to man;

spiritual intuitions, pure and perfect;

the inspiration of goodness, purity and immortality,

counteracting all evil, sensuality, and mortality."