Sunday, September 26, 2010

In Which I Examine Selective Hearing...

And behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind tore the mountains and broke in pieces the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. And after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire the sound of a low whisper. (I Kings 19:11-12)The Bug and the Pea have undergone three separate bilateral “ear tube” surgeries...each. Like many parents, I‘ve became quite an expert regarding the onset and early treatment of ear infections. I am certain, after years of tests/appointments with audiologists and ear/nose/throat specialists the girls both hear as well as they ought to hear. However, I would often swear to the fact that they maintain selective hearing. Especially my oldest, whom I fondly refer to as The Bug.
For instance, I can be looking straight at her, standing one foot away, repeating the clearest of instructions in a firm voice and the Bug will ask, “What Mama? What?” We can be the only two in the house, her upstairs and me downstairs. I can holler repeatedly, up into the silence, “Time to go!” And five minutes later, the Bug will wander slowly down the steps and ask if it’s time to leave yet? Clearly unaware I’ve been screaming at the top of my lungs.
For reasons beyond my understanding, the children deem it necessary to speak loudly in, well, most all situations. I can be driving along in our car, both kids in the backseat, music playing softly. Suddenly, the Bug decides she needs my attention. Despite the fact that I am literally inches away from her, she will project her voice such that the entire highway may hear her message. Or perhaps we’re at the kitchen table eating dinner. The Pea is particularly fond of her “outside voice.” We’ll be quietly eating our meal, and the Pea – who sits right beside me- will recount her day as if her words must rise above the very roar of a pep rally crowd.
Which brings me to today’s conundrum: The Whisper Principle. When I am in close proximity to my children, we are the only ones in a room, and I speak clearly and loudly, there is often no response. Almost as if I’m not even there. However, if my husband and I sneak away from a multitude of people, to a back room and whisper (in a voice barely audible to the whisper-ee) some serious information, both children materialize beside us in a matter of seconds, asking pertinent questions. Why is that?
I haven’t figured it out. Is it because they instinctively tune out voices that go against their immediate focus (generally “self”)? So if I’m telling the Bug it’s time to get on her shoes so that we can leave, she maintains contemplation of the page in her book with the butterfly illustrations. Why? Because that’s what she wants to do and her brain is not voluntarily open to other options?
Do they speak louder than necessary to ensure that I hear their concerns and wishes, even if it means drowning out those of others in the room? Because natural instinct is to put “self” first, and to put those needs above the needs of the other group members? I’m not sure.
This scripture in 1 Kings refers to the Lord’s instructive voice as a “whisper,” or a “still small voice.” How very different from a movie portrayal. Cinematographers liken the booming voice of James Earl Jones to the true voice of God. Implying, we may only be certain the Master Designer has spoken if Darth Vader’s speech echoes from above. Unfortunately, (or fortunately, as the case may be!) the closest I’ve come to Darth Vader was two Halloween’s ago when I took the kids trick-or-treating.
God doesn’t seem to be in the business of frightening us with terrifying shrieks of instruction. He is forever warning His loved ones, “Do not be afraid…” when He sends Messengers. (In fact, and this will be another topic to explore-- God chose the least frightening of all imaginable methods to convey His love and salvation to a fallen world: a tiny infant, born of an unwed teenage girl).
So, how is it that the children are so perceptive when it comes to hearing a whisper, but not an announcement? What makes them, in the midst of distractions, become aware their parents are elsewhere quietly conveying an important message? Are they constantly aware of the presence of their father, and thus the “absence” of him and so they seek him out?
How like the Bug and the Pea am I on a daily basis with my heavenly Father? Talking loudly to God in prayers, telling Him what I would like for Him to do for me, completely disregarding obedience to the instructions He has repeated over and over again in scripture. Acting as if God is not worthy of my constant respect, ignoring His very presence in the normal everyday circumstances around me. Always thinking about “self” and what I want and not being open or expectant to receive direction of how to join Him in His work according to His plan and not mine.
Lots of information to ponder. But I think I will start by making a conscious choice to be aware that God does still speak. Perhaps if I focus so intensely on obeying Him, and listening for His voice, I will surely recognize His whisper.

Monday, September 20, 2010

Are You Ready For Some FOOTBALL!!??


It’s sharpened pencils and a newly opened box of crayons. It’s a trip to the orchard for cider and caramel dipped apples. Cool breezes, crispy leaves, zipping up a well worn pair of Levi’s and grabbing a sweatshirt on your way out the door. Autumn: the most wonderful time of the year.
And along with autumn, comes football. A sport that continues to baffle me, as it has since I was a child. You’d think after all the games I’ve attended or watched on television or listened to on the radio, I’d be an expert. Alas, to my husband’s chagrin, I am not. Lord knows he’s tried to teach me. To indoctrinate me in the ways of Ye Great American sport, to no avail. The husband and my first official date, 19 years ago, was to a football game. When the night air turned cool, I snuggled up in his jacket. A cup of hot cocoa warmed my chilly fingers. I’m pretty sure two college teams were throwing a ball back and forth, but I couldn’t swear to it. Pure bliss.
I quickly learned this whole “football” gig was quite a big deal in the WHH’s (World’s Hottest Husband’s) family. This family that would one day become a part of my own. And if football was important to them, then by golly, it was important to me. The first rite of passage involved allegiance to the greatness that is: The Pittsburgh Steelers. (Moment of silence.) Even though we weren’t married at the time, the WHH warned me any mention, verbally or written, of the D_ll_s C_wb_ys in a positive light would be grounds for D-I-V-O-R-C-E. (However, variations on the sentence: “The Pittsburg Steelers slaughtered the Cowboys” proves acceptable.)
This loyalty has been passed down a generation to the Bug and the Pea. The girls think all kids wear Steeler jerseys for professional portrait sessions. They each own Terribly Towels, and have wardrobes dotted with black and yellow apparel. (If I remember correctly, the Bug could spell “Steeler” before she could spell her own name.)
Last year, the kids played flag football on a co-ed Upward Team. I was perpetually amazed at their understanding of the elements of the game, the plays, the positions, the downs, the yardage. It’s still like a foreign language to me, so I stick to cheering. Whether the home team scores or not. The bottom line is, they’re all just kids doing their best. And I applaud their zeal.
This week marks the first Flag Football game of 2010. The Bug is ready to rumble and me? Well, I’m ready to dive head first into autumn. I’ll be the one snuggled up in a sweatshirt on the metal bleachers, hot cocoa in hands. Waving, clapping, and hollering, “Home Run!”

Monday, September 13, 2010

It's Good To Be Leigh on September 13th...


Off the top of my head, here are 10 favorite birthday memories…
1. Blowing out the candle which was large and triangular with a clown face given to my folks when I was born. Each year it was lit and a part of our annual “birthday” photo.
2. Angel food cake with a pink glaze of icing dripping over the sides.
3. A cake brought over each year, iced with candles on top, from our next door neighbor, Pauline on Leyton. What an amazingly special kid I was to get 2 cakes every year!
4. Walking into our dining room which was filled to the brim with helium balloons of all different colors and long ribbon strings.
5. Opening up a scrapbook Mom made for me where she had secretly mailed index cards and a metallic Happy Birthday banner to dozens of friends I missed terribly. They returned the index cards and a photo of themselves holding the banner, and she pasted them all into a book. (Hands down, my favorite gift ever…)
6. Thanking Mom and Dad for the brand new keychain they wrapped up for my birthday. Assuming the attached keys went to our family’s stick shift station wagon (a.k.a. The Copper Ace). Never once occurring to me that it contained the keys to my very own car, parked in the garage with a ginormous bow on top.
7. Surprise birthday party where my entire youth group from LBC traveled to O’boro following my family’s move the month before.
8. Surprise visit from Daddy via a business trip to Lexington during college and a special date to Bravo Pitinos for fettucini and calamari.
9. Walking into my dorm room, freshman year, to angel food cake (with chocolate chips) and a metallic Happy Birthday banner hanging in the space between my Cow Crazy Roomie and my bunk beds at Kirwan IV.
10. Waking up to a rainbow of balloons tied to kitchen chairs, homemade watercolor cards, globs of glitter pasted to paper banners scotch-taped to the wall and great big hugs from The Bug and The Pea.

My cup runneth over, I am blessed beyond measure….

Sunday, September 5, 2010

Hands for Harvesting



"Look, I tell you, lift up your eyes, and see that the fields are white for harvest." John 4:35
As I’ve mentioned earlier: Green thumb, have I not. I am perpetually astonished each and every year when the scraggly seedlings grow exponentially. Gourd vines stretch beyond the stone walls, out across the yard. Watermelon vines wrap around the runt pepper plant, hiding it from sight. Tomato vines rocket between the wiry tee pee barrier. Sweet potato vines snake up the wooden fence boards and spy into our neighbor’s yard. I find myself pruning the garden every few weeks. Not so much pulling weeds, as untangling the knotted vines.
Our garden is not the product of a landscape architect. It is, rather, the product of joyful souls lugging a cart through the Lowe’s Garden Center. The girls always pick their crops. No thought is given to rhyme or reason. To spacing and timing, water and sunlight needs. The seedlings are chosen individually based on little more than proximity to the shopping cart. This year’s crop: Thai pepper, blueberry bush, petunia, watermelon, pumpkin, cherry tomatoes, sweet potatoes, thyme, mint, basil, bell pepper. One lone sunflower seed grew to enormous proportions and presided over the eclectic entanglement below.
The kids have harvested watermelons, pumpkins and gourds galore. The Bug picks fresh mint before dinner to flavor our iced tea. The spices have found their way into spaghetti sauces, and the tomatoes into lovely salads. Not everything survived the constant brutal heat of the Kentucky summer. Sporadic rain alternating with flood water.
This afternoon is sweet potato harvest. I’m sure there’s a simple way to tell the proper time to dig up potatoes. But as some potatoes are actually poking through the ground, I think this afternoon will suffice. The Bug and the Pea will fill the Red Ryder wagon full of shovels. They pull the wagon out to the garden. They immediately abandon the trowels in lieu of ungloved hands. They dive into the soil, with gleaming eyes, seeking buried treasures…

Friday, September 3, 2010

Garnering Mortification Points


I don’t want to toot my own horn, but I have perfected the process of mortifying my children before they even set foot on the school bus. You, too, can be an “EMBARASSING!” parent, without too much effort. Here are some of the tools in my mortification arsenal, feel free to borrow as you please:
1. No need to put on your contacts the moment you wake up. Don your ginormous plastic coke-bottle-lens eye glasses from 1989. Combined with spiky bed-head hair, it’s just the look your children will be proud of when the neighbors come over to wait with you for the bus.
2. Don’t worry about dressing up for the occasion. Pajamas are more than appropriate, especially if you’re wearing the cozy pink fuzzy socks that look like little piglets with the felt face on the front where your toes are and the curly tail behind your heel. If I’m feeling in a particularly Vogue mood, I go with a patriotic tie-dye oversized T-shirt, red/white polka dot PJ pants. Combined with the pink socks – trend setting.
3. Don’t forget those last minute reminders: did you pack your homework? Did you remember your snack? Did you go tinky-wink so you won’t need to go potty as soon as you walk in the school doors? (I find it’s more effective to wait until the neighbor kiddos are on the porch with you, this way, you have an audience and can make sure that EVERYONE is ready for a productive school day.)
4. Drag the brush, assorted head bands and bows out on the porch with you and brush the girls’ hair while you wait. Then when the neighbors hear the screaming, moaning and gnashing of teeth, they may simply peer out their window and realize you’re merely detangling hair and not actually beating your children mercilessly.
5. When you notice a crumb of Cheerios, or a dab of milk on your child’s chin, make sure to wipe it off. No need to be quick, lick your finger to get enough moisture and really rub their little face clean. It’s also comforting to say things like, “Mama’s takin’ care of her little baby!”
6. Often, the children will decide to use the few minutes prior to the bus arrival to tend your hedges. Make sure the proper clipper tools are available so that even at 7 in the morning, you, too can shout, “No running with scissors!” (I find the best motivation for before-school yard work is to dress your children in clean, fairly new clothes. Yearbook “picture day” is always nice for muddy escapades).
7. Always bring a cup of tea on the porch with you. This can double as a miniature wading pool for those treasures your children discover in the grass. “MOM! Look at this cool bug, it’s perched on my finger, I think it can fly, Oops. MOM it CAN’T swim! Mom get it out of your drink, it’s gonna die! Oh look, there’s a snail on that rock…”
8. Make sure you get your last minute good-bye kisses and hugs. I like to insist on the European style of one peck on each cheek. Keep insisting until the children beg you to stop. And then tackle them with a bear hug. I find it effective to actually pick each child up and swirl them around in a circle until they are giggling and shouting for mercy. (Again, the larger your audience of neighbors, the better.)
9. Insist on speaking “their language.” Use hip words/phrases like: “way cool,” “OMG,” “whatever,” “BTW”, “IDK,” “Is that one of the RARE silly bands?” They appreciate the fact that you can hang tough with their friends. Any references to the Jo Bros, Hannah Montana, Camp Rock are a definite plus. Bursting out into spontaneous song will garner huge mortification points.
10. Stand up, alternate between waving and blowing giant kisses as the children board the bus and walk down the aisle to their seats. You’ll know it’s time to stop when you can visibly see the kids (yours, the neighbors’, et.al) rolling their eyes through the rectangular window panes on the side of the bus.
At this point, your work here is done.
It’s time to head inside, shower and prepare for a day of volunteer work in the classrooms.