Are You There, God? It’s Me, Radcliffe.

Mischief & Shenanigans

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Radcliffe is obsessed with God, one of many obsessions, I admit, but this is an ongoing conversation in our house.  Heaven and hell, God and his son, different belief systems, you get the drift.

He is constantly asking me questions about God, usually prior to bedtime when he has time to mull over these questions.  The other night, Radcliffe started grilling me out of the blue about God and whether bad people burn in hell.  I tried to give him a benign answer, because I don’t think he’s old enough to have such a conversation.  Then, he started in with the questions.  The conversation went like this:

Radcliffe:  I have lots of questions for God.

Me:  Oh, yeah?

Radcliffe:  Yeah, like is heaven and hell like Minecraft?

Me:  Hmmm, doubtful.

Radcliffe:  Is God a phantom?

Me:  Sort of…

Radcliffe:  You know, I would be sad if you died, but I know I’d see you in heaven again.  I also want to know why God made drugs.

Me:  Well, God didn’t really make drugs, man did.

Radcliffe:  Well, is Jesus the first orphan?  Does that mean he’s the first adopted child?

Me:  That’s a great observation.

Radcliffe:  I also want to know if aliens are real.

Me:  Man, these are a lot of questions for God.

Radcliffe:  Yeah, but I don’t think I’ll remember them, so I think I’m going to write them all down and carry a list around for all time, so when I die, I’ll be prepared to ask him.

 

1000 Voices for Compassion

Serious Stuff, Uncategorized

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I’m part of a group of bloggers/writers that are participating in 1000 Voices for Compassion. This is a movement to flood the internet with all things positive and good, with everyone publishing on the same day — today.

It’s hard for me to think about compassion without immediately thinking about anger. I think most time people would call me a compassionate person in general, and I can say that about most people I know. But, that’s really just a general statement. When I think about the moments that compassion matters most, it’s when you are angry, because let’s face it — compassion can be hard.

Think about the people and moments that anger you the most, the ones that you have perceived have wronged you in some way, shape or form. Instead of being angry (which maybe the complete and utter appropriate response), try to come from a place of empathy and try to physically think about what they are feeling and how they are interpreting the situation.   Anger is reactive, but compassion is pro-active, which, if practiced enough, can become your default reaction.

I think about years ago, in my childhood when I would be intolerable and I perceived unlovable, but that was a response to the abuse I was enduring. What I needed was someone to stop and ask me what was really wrong, because the truth was that I was angry.

I think about that when parenting two young children, and when they fight, to teach them to talk about how the other one feels, because compassionate starts in anger.

I think about the last time I was at the hospital snack shop, and the lady in front of me who chewed out the cashier. The cashier smiled and tried to brush off the mean words. She knew, she told me, that lady probably needed a hug and was visiting a sick family member and was angry that her loved one could not be made well.

So, in doing and observing in my very short life, I try to remember to be compassionate in moments of strife, anger and irritation. It can be difficult and some people are not willing to try to see your point of view. Be compassionate anyway. People will be mean, you will continue to get hurt, and your loved ones will be hurt. Be compassionate anyway. At their very core, people want to be heard, and they want to be seen. Acknowledge this, and you’ve taken your first step.

Funny in Retrospect

Mischief & Shenanigans

I was recently having a conversation with a friend about the most horrifyingly embarrassing things our kids have said. Clearly, it’s not hard for me to reach deep, since Radcliffe, the youngest, says inappropriate things almost on a daily basis. However, two stories over the years have stuck with me and still make me giggle years later.

The first one is about Theodore. Theodore had a serious speech delay and was simultaneously obsessed with Thomas the Train, specifically the train named ‘Percy’. I bet you can see where this is going. He carried that damn green train everywhere and screamed his name (pretty much the only word he could say) everywhere. Except that he called Percy ‘pussy’, or more like ‘PUUUUUSSSSYYYY’. The looks I got when I took him public were awful, but in retrospect hilarious. Every single time I tried to quiet him, he would only scream it louder, which brings me to an important mom lesson for all of you: when you don’t want your kid to say something, don’t tell them or they are guaranteed to shout it out in public places.

Radcliffe is no different, obviously. A recurring embarrassing thing he says has to do with an innocent sunscreen stick. I’m obsessive about sunscreen, so they are always around, setting us up for just the situation I’m talking about. We have a beach house, our next door neighbors are conservative, and I’m almost positive they can hear everything on their porch. Anyhow, Radcliffe would always ask me to ‘paint’ his face with the sunscreen stick.

Somehow, ‘paint’ ‘stick’ and something else entirely got mingled together and he decided it was called a ‘taint stick.’ He decided this at 7 in the morning and promptly began screaming at the top of his lungs ‘I want my taint stick, give me my taint’ over and over as the neighbors got in their car next door.

I.was.mortified. Until the next weekend, when he screamed it again, only louder because I didn’t learn my own lesson, and I tried to shush him. As guaranteed, he just got louder and louder and louder. I wouldn’t make eye contact with the neighbors for a few days until he stopped.

Soooooo embarrassing at the time, and yet so hilarious. Perfect blackmail for when they are older.

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