Paradox.

Let me learn by paradox that the way down is the way up, that to be low is to be high, that the broken heart is the healed heart, that the repenting soul is the victorious soul, that to bear the cross is to wear the crown. Amen.

Boys and farts.

I recently started babysitting for my classmate’s two boys so that she could attend classes. Watching these boys has been a joy and I often find myself laughing. The older brother, P, is the picture of an oldest child. He proclaims all the rules loudly and commands his younger brother, C, to obey them. Also characteristic of a youngest sibling, C follows his brother around but is also a loving goofball. For example, C has a unique inability to simply sit on his bottom. Rather, he sits on spleeled knees looking much like how a frog gone wrong would sit. (Spleeled is a word I made up. It’s a combination of split and kneeled.)

Putting out dinner, helping them on homework, playing with them and tucking them into bed leaves me feeling like a second mother. When March comes, I’ll be driving them to baseball practices and I know I’ll be the one standing on the sidelines yelling their names loudly and being embarrassing. Also holding onto whatever gear they want me to hold. Sometimes, it makes me wonder if this is just good preparation for what is to come one day.

I’ve babysat many families, but two boys are definitely different from two girls or even one of each! For example, here’s a conversation we had at the dinner table today. I probably shouldn’t have allowed it since we were eating. It started innocently enough with me asking what their least favorite vegetables were.

Bro 1: Tomatoes are your foe!

Bro 2: What’s foe?

Me: Are you talking about foe, f-o-e?

Bro 2: It’s your enemy!

Me: Your arch nemesis! Bro 1, what’s YOUR foe?

Bro 1: hmm, I’m not sure.

Bro 2: My farts!

Bro 1: Arghhh, the green bubbles!

Me: You call his farts the green bubble? Are they really green?!

Bro 2: Yup! [very proud]

Bro 1: Yes! Bro 2’s farts are my foe!!!

Bro 2 then gets out of his seat, runs to Bro 1 and starts smelling his butt. This is when I intervene and pull Bro 2 away. Strange habits these boys have. Are all boys like this? On a more positive note, this was a great way for them to learn a new vocabulary word—foe!

Yesterday, they taught me to play Wii games with them. Today, we watched clips of Dragonball Z. What’s funny is that I’ve babysat for another pair of brothers, age 4 and 2, who also asked me to play Wii with them. How sad children know how to operate these systems at such a young age! Also, I am grandma status when it comes to technology. But back to my point, taking care of these two boys has allowed me the privilege of entering the world of boys in a whole new way. [Note: I also have two younger brothers who I played Nintendo and sports with, but I don’t think our conversations were ever like that…]

One of my favorite times is putting them to bed! I sit in bed with them and read them stories and then they ask me to sing them songs and we giggle like little children. Come to think of it, we still are. And when lights are out, the younger brother will crawl into his older brother's bed. I still hear them talking to each other in the dark about farts. Brotherhood. Love it.

A Beautiful Mess.

This weekend, I attempted to make lasagna for my family.

Growing up, my family ate rice every night. EVERY night. No pizza, no spaghetti, no bread. So, when my mom told me about the busy schedule, I volunteered to make dinner.

All messy and gross-looking, I pull an oversized UCD sweatshirt and exercise pants and forget about what fellow shoppers will think. To the grocery store I went! One of my favorite things is walking up and down the grocery aisles with my cart. Pushing at grandma pace, I look at many things. I take too long trying to decide what to buy because my frugality battles with quality products. I smile at little old ladies and reject the free samples because, really now, I don't care too much for free jam samples. Costco samples, on the other hand...

Back in my kitchen, I toss anything I want into the lasagna. That was probably my first mistake. Onions, peas, arugula, bell peppers and lots and lots of cheese. Layer upon layer, I beam at my own ignorance and pat myself on the back for my supposed creativity. Genius, too.

Well, my lasagna didn't turn out as beautifully as I'd hope. The layers didn't stick together and the top layer was crunchy like chips. I had to use a sharp knife to cut the top layer and then a ladle to scoop the servings. Fail! But, my brother said, "At least it tastes like what it's supposed to look like" and that was good enough for me! A beautiful mess. Or maybe you just can't go wrong with lots of cheese.

I love my family. We are a beautiful, wacky mess, too.

The Ocean.

Sometimes when it is raining and everything is gray, the ocean looks like it is being tickled. Each wave laughs in little chuckles. Other times, like today, the ocean just seems morose. Every wave is a sigh and each raindrop adds onto its burden. Maybe it just depends on the eye of the beholder.

And though the pain is an ocean
Tossing us around, around, around
You have calmed greater waters
Higher mountains have come down

Meaningful Pain.

From a friend:

We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed but not in despair, persecuted, but not abandoned, struck down but not destroyed…. we do not lose heart. Though we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. for our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So, we fix our eyes not on what is seen but what is unseen. for what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

2 cor. 4:8-9, 16-18

A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up; She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.

Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil; without saying a word.

In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she asked, ‘ Tell me what you see.’

‘Carrots, eggs, and coffee,’ she replied.

Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots.. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.

Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. The daughter t hen asked, ‘What does it mean, mother?’

Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.

‘Which are you?’ she asked her daughter. ‘When adversity knocks on your door,how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?

Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?

Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst,you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity?

Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

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We are often afraid of adversity and trials, but one thing I am learning is that pain can be meaningful. It is easy to become guarded or hardened to the situation. How much harder, but better, would it be to accept it, embrace it and then learn from it?