humble pie

A few days ago a woman walked into the coffee shop where my mother, sister, lassies, and I were snagging some liquid propulsion before picking up the lads from school. The woman had a much deeper than expected voice and asked for a cup of water, which the barista brought out to her.

After flopping down in the easy chair next to me, she said, "I'm giving free manicures today.". I thanked her but told her truthfully that we would be leaving in a few minutes. She took the disappointment in stride and began to rummage through the few plastic shopping sacks she had brought in with her. She offered me a bottle of nail polish from one of the sacks, "for the road," she said. It was then that I noticed the polish on her own nails, done not quite exactly within the usual boundaries. She went on to give me another bottle of (green) nail polish and two mint candies. I thanked her again and bid her farewell, as it was time for us to get going.

During this encounter, while truthfully a little uneasy near this woman who seemed maybe a little off somehow, I had the strongest sense that I was to show her the utmost kindness and respect, including receiving the items she so generously offered me and thanking her for doing so.

How difficult is it for us to accept the generosity of others? Sometimes very much so. Whether it's the offer of a homemade meal during a time of crisis, illness, or happy upheaval such as following the birth of a baby, or help tending to or transporting children from time to time, or some other sort of non-monetary aid given freely, something trips us up in accepting such things.

For some people, it is so much easier to be the giver rather than the receiver of these types of gifts. We are happy to do so and truly want to help others in need, be they friends, relatives, or strangers. For people of faith, we see it as part of living out our Baptismal vows or at least being Christ-like in giving generously of our time and talent in the service of others.

This is all well and good, but when others attempt to do the same for us, some of us (I include myself in this and know and love several other people who would fit this bill, but I won't name names or point fingers.) are quick to say, "thanks, but I'll do it myself," or "no thank you, we're managing just fine.". We politely decline maybe because we don't want to impose on anyone or add to anyone else's already full plates, but in turning down such offers we deny our well-intentioned friends and loved ones (or even perfect strangers) the opportunities to be conduits of Christ's grace and mercy to us, which can be a source of blessing not only to us but to those who wish to serve us as well.

People who volunteer in various service roles often say they "get more out it" than the people they serve. Framing it this way might make it a little easier to allow someone else to help us once in a while or show us extraordinary generosity beyond what we think we deserve.

We may think we're slacking off or mooching or being lazy or somehow otherwise not taking care of our own responsibilities, but somewhere in there is a tinge of pride, where it's all about me.

It's *not* all about me.

I may have a lot to manage, and through continual discernment and in faith I trust that it is God's will for me to have a lot to manage, but he doesn't expect me to have it all figured out all at once or even to do it all by myself. Although it is humbling to accept assistance from someone else, there is grace in such humility, and more grace where that comes from for the asking.

When we allow people to help lighten our loads, we cooperate with Christ in the bestowing of grace upon those who are serving us. Just as I desire to be a reflection of Christ's light and love to the people he places in my midst, there are others who are similarly motivated. Let us not be hasty to close the door in Christ's face when he wishes to bless both us and someone else with a chance to be his hands, feet, and beautiful face.

(not so) secret santa

me, conducting an impromptu poll: "What do you think Daddy might like for Christmas?"

lass: "green!"
younger lad: "a green ax!"
elder lad: "a green remote-controlled hot rod!"

We may or may not have looked for these things as we shopped for the children whose gifts we signed up to procure from our parish's Angel Tree as part of our St. Nicholas Day festivities.

This alms-giving aspect of the feast day is equally as important as (if not more so than) the treats our bambini found by their shoes on the hearth this morning (fresh crayons, clementines, and small squares of chocolate wrapped in gold paper).  That's why I chose to go through with the shopping after school (i.e. approaching Happy Hour) and in spite of the chill in the air.  

We are humbled by the tremendous blessings God continues to lavish upon us.  It is our honor and duty to share these with those less fortunate than ourselves, and to teach our bambini to tend to the needs of others  that go unmet.  It involves learning we don't always get what we want when we want it, but God always provides for our needs.

Case in point: a green remote-controlled hot rod...

the Bonnie box comes full circle.

Growing up, I passed along a lot of my outgrown clothes to a girl five years younger than me.  Our families are close like family, though we're not related.  She called the periodic windfall "the Bonnie box," and apparently it was something very exciting for her.  I'm honored she felt that way.

Now that we're both mothers, we refer to each other as "sister mama," as we've long thought of each other as sisters.  We live close to four hours apart, so we don't get to see each other very often, but we find ways to stay in touch.

So imagine the glee when a couple of days my lass received a box of clothes in the mail from my childhood friend's younger daughter, several months older than my lass.  My lass may be too young to fully own the delight of the occasion, so for now I'll do it for her.  She may be our only girl, but like her brothers before her, there's someone a little further down the path of life sharing her hand me downs.

St. Nicholas Day

Yesterday we celebrated the Feast of Saint Nicholas, patron saint of (among others) children, brides, and sailors, who serves as a sort of historical basis for our modern day Santa Claus. He was actually a saint born in the third century who became Bishop of Myra in what is modern day Turkey, perhaps best known for the example of charity he gave by providing the dowries for a family of young ladies too poor to wed otherwise.    

Celebrating this feast day is a significant part of our Advent observance, as it places a premium on the consideration of the needy at this otherwise extravagant (at least, in the worldly sense) time of year.  Every year since our elder lads' first Christmas, we select children our own children's ages from our parish church's angel tree to buy Christmas gifts for.  Last week we went shopping, and the lads helped select things they thought "their boys" would like, such as trucks or blocks or puzzles, as well as some sorely-needed things like hats, mittens, hoodies, and pajamas.  They also helped choose gifts for a girl our lass's age, like diaper supplies, some soft blocks, and jammies.  It wasn't easy at first to choose some fun-looking toys to give to someone else we'll likely never meet, but the thought of other children without such things resonated with the lads, and they soon were thinking of ways to show even greater generosity.

This "Saint Nicholas shopping" is an opportunity to discuss our responsibility to those who cannot meet their own basic needs, a responsibility we feel keenly.  The need for almsgiving knows no season, but Advent is an especially ideal time to answer that need with joy, and to help our children live the virtues of charity, generosity, and kindness. 

St. Nicholas Day isn't meant to be a mini-Christmas morning, but it *is* a day to celebrate the beautiful children in our lives.  Ours awoke to encounter a few little surprises throughout the day.  Some families leave chocolate coins, clementines, walnuts, or other yummy treats in their stockings.  Seeing as how our children don't have stockings (Mama wants to make those in her spare time, so they may be waiting a while.), I drew some on paper sacks for the lads' treat bags.  They were very understanding.

We have a few books about Saint Nicholas that we read each year.  One we particularly like is Santa, Are You For Real?  by Harold Myra (strange coincidence, the author's last name and the city of St. Nicholas's ministerial service).  It's a book my beloved's parents read to him and his brothers as a child, and seeks to answer the question head on in a way that keeps the focus on Christ and the magic of the legend alive.

Another is Saint Nicholas: The Real Story of the Christmas Legend by Julie Stiegemeyer, which despite its title is actually a fictional story.  This book's strength lies in its personification of the key players in the whole gold-in-the-stocking story.

As we journey forward toward Christmas, we hope to carry the spirit of Saint Nicholas with us, keeping in mind his devotion to Christ especially in children and the poor and needy.  Considering Christ's humble birth and His reassurance that whatever we do for the least of His people we do for Him, we know we can only fully experience His joy by also embracing His cross and His mission of love and charity.

hand me downs

My elder lad has outgrown his shoes and pants -- the ones I bought several sizes too big a year or two ago just so we could maximize the wear he'd get out of them.  Fortunately, he has a younger brother who can wear a lot of the things the elder lad has outgrown.  This has financial and logistical advantages, though I think there are some emotional costs for everyone involved.  The elder lad is in some respects excited to be growing up and getting bigger, and also seems to like picking out some new things for himself to wear.   He's pretty good about letting go of many of the things he's outgrown so that his brother can wear them now and seems to like hearing stories about how he wore certain things when he was his brother's (or even his baby sister's) age.  On the other hand, there is some internal struggle with seeing his brother wearing something like what was his favorite hoodie or pajamas.  He understands the need, but it's still difficult.

Likewise, my younger lad seems to enjoy donning some of the togs with fun graphics or colors that he's seen his brother wearing, but some things he flat out rejects.  He too has gotten to choose some new things for himself, like the firefighter boots he just got a few days ago and hasn't wanted to take off, but he also struggles seeing his brother get new things, things that maybe he (the younger lad) doesn't need and therefore doesn't get something akin to. 

It's funny how there are some articles of clothing that serve as tangible tokens of a particular child at a particular point in his or her life -- what they liked to do or what developmental milestones they were mastering at the time, or what else might have been going on in our family life at the time.  In some instances, seeing another of my children in the same article of clothing has been jarring, simply because of the associations I have.  One such example is a bright orange hoodie my elder lad has now outgrown.  We could barely get that thing off of him last winter; he wore it all. the. time.  My younger lad refuses to wear it now.  I think he may have the same association I have about the hoodie: that's his brother's -- not his. 

We are trying to cultivate a deep sense of consideration for each other within our family and also for those around us who may not be as fortunate as we are to be able to afford such things as new clothes and shoes and what not.  Our children's needs do not always coincide, so meeting them as they arise may mean that one gets something new (or new to them) and another doesn't at the same time.  While it's fun and sometimes necessary to get new things, it's far more important to meet the needs of our family members and for those whose basic needs would otherwise go unmet -- not just temporal but spiritual and emotional as well.

I can only hope to instill in our bambini a concern for the less fortunate and for each other in the family, confident that each one will be tended according to his or her need. The value each of us has in the family comes from our being unique and irreplaceable creatures of God, due all the respect, love, and care by virtue of that status as His children. 

I know my younger lad will bring his own moxie to the clothes he's been handed down, as will my lass.  I pray for the grace to help all three of them clothe themselves in Christ.