Speaking of the kindness cure.....

This was floating around my Facebook page yesterday. It may or may not be true, I didn't research it. I reposted because I think it's beautiful.

"When a woman of the Ubuntu African tribe knows she is pregnant, she goes to the jungle with other women, and together they pray and meditate until you get to "The song of the child." When a child is born, the community gets together and they sing the child's song. When the child begins his education, people get together and he sings his song. When they become an adult, they get together again and sing it. When it comes to their wedding, the person hears his song. Finally, when their soul is going from this world, family and friends are approaching and, like his birth, sing his song to accompany him in the "journey".

In the Ubuntu tribe, there is another occasion when men sing the song. If at some point the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, they take him to the center of town and the people of the community form a circle around him. Then they sing "the song." The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment, but is the love and memory of his true identity. When we recognize our own song, we have no desire or need to hurt anyone.

Your friends know "your song". And sing when you forget it. Those who love you can not be fooled by mistakes you have committed, or dark images you show to others. They remember your beauty as you feel ugly, your total when you're broke, your innocence when you feel guilty and your purpose when you're confused."



I love the bit about reminding a person of their identity. It really made me think of the people I have worked with who have a criminal record or struggle with addictions. They are constantly reminded of their poor choices and even encouraged and required to identify themselves by their past. I wonder how our justice system could change and incorporate the idea of reminding, especially young offenders, of their identity outside of their mistakes. We could even keep this idea in mind when dealing with kids.

When Levi was in grade 4, he made an unfortunate decision at lunch time. I got a call from the vice-principal to tell me that he pushed a girl down amidst a group of boys. I was shocked, hurt and angry that Levi would even do something like that. When he was three, he was pretending to be a puppy at playgroup and accidentally bit another kid's finger. When he realized what had happened, Levi cried harder than the other little boy. How could my compassionate boy deliberately cause harm to a little girl?!

I drove to pick him up and on the way I prayed. I had no idea how to handle this, it was such a foreign issue. I thought I had done enough preventative parenting for this sort of thing. I asked God to grant me wisdom that day.

When I arrived, my son's face was a mix of defiance and disappointment. He got into the van and we drove in heavy silence as I continued to pray. "Levi, why did you do that today?" "The boys told me too. I want to be their friend." Ah. I understand that motivation. "Levi, all your life there will be opportunities to be a hero or a villain. What did you choose today?" "Villain" was his teary reply. "And, Levi, who are you really?" "I want to be a hero, Mom." "I know, Levi."

The conversation became about why Levi is such a great kid. He had so many people who loved and respected him so much at such a young age. Why would he change that for the respect of a few kids that would never really care about who he really was?

I did not discipline Levi in any way that day. There was absolutely no need. He, of his own accord, wrote that little girl an apology letter. We "sang his song" together that day in the van and it was very effective.

Other than my one story of Levi, I have no scientific studies to prove the value of this idea. That being said, I wonder how many other people in my life would benefit from hearing "their song" when they have failed, hurt someone, or even me. It is something worth contemplating as we brush shoulders and bump into each other. It is an attitude worth cultivating in a world filled with justification, entitlement and the rights of self.

Here's to all the Mama's!

Here's to the Mama's. All the Mama's...

Here's to the women whose wombs never grew round and full with babies, either by choice or circumstance, who still choose to kiss boo-boo's, wipe bottoms, hold hands and dry tears.

Here's to my single, childless friend, who is a mother to many children in Africa, standing guard for them against apathy and demanding better of the rest of the world.

Here's to my friend who already had four of her own and adopted one more because she had more room in her house and in her heart.

Here's to the too many friends who are raising their kids on their own without the partnership of the other parent. They are so brave and so enduring.

Here's to my friend who has seen two of her sweet sweet babies leave this world so soon after they arrived and still managed keep her faith and her gentle spirit.

Here's to the foster moms we have met that love other people's children so well and so completely only to let them go. They choose to repeatedly allow their hearts to be broken in hopes of protecting the little hearts of many.

Here's to the lady in the parking lot of Save-On who threw a snowball at me just because. I don't know her and can't even remember what she looked like, but boy that was fun!

Here's to every neighbour, teacher, friend or stranger who encouraged or taught me. Who didn't give up on me when I was a cheeky kid, restless pot-head or pregnant teenager.

Here's to my husband's mother who raised the most honest, gentle and wise man I know. She taught him to be faithful in everything and to celebrate his uniqueness. He has passed both along to my children.

Here's to my Mama. She is tough as nails on the outside and soft as kittens on the inside. She loves deeply and fiercely and she taught me to do the same.

Here's to me. I started the mama thing a little (OK a lot) earlier than most, but my kids seem to be doing alright in spite of my inexperience.

Here's to all the Mamas. All of us who nurture the shy ones, redirect the willful ones, and taught the weird ones to relish their weirdness. All of us who cheer for sports we never liked watching. All of us who pray desperate prayers in the dark clinging to threads of hope. To all of us who fail, who succeed, who give up, who try again, who just hang in there.

Happy Mother's Day.

Speaking of kindness......

About three and a half years ago, Alex and I were at a Lifelinks conference in Medicine Hat when the weirdest thing came out of his mouth. "I think we need to plant a church." My response was quick and not well thought out. "You're on crack."

Just for clarity sake, I will state here for the record, that Alex wasn't, nor has ever been on crack. I have been informed that my less than well thought out remarks may have been the cause of certain rumours. Moving on....

My response came largely from the fact that we were seven years in to a church plant in Cranbrook. We weren't the visionaries, but we had been there from the beginning and participated in hashing out the first mission statement. We looked for places to rent, hauled concrete, painted walls, and served in every possible ministry over the course of those seven years. After all those years of sweaty tears and hard work, it was getting really good.  Why leave only to go back to the beginning again? Seriously. Why?

Well, Alex, being the gracious man he is, would occasionally try to start up the conversation but didn't press the issue when I walked away, or closed doors on him, or stared blankly back at him as though I didn't speak English. He waited.

About six months later, around this time of year actually, I was woken up around 2:30 in the morning by a very vivid dream. I was surrounded by kids and their parents, gardening and building fences. It was sunny and warm, our faces and hands were dirty and we were content. Somehow I knew this dream took place in Kelowna, though I had never been there. That I remembered anyway. As I woke up, I realized Alex was wide awake next to me. "If I was to agree to plant somewhere with you, where would we go." At the time his answer was frightening to me. "Kamloops or Kelowna" I did not answer.  I did not immediately tell him about my dream. I simply rolled over and went back to sleep.

Fast forward a few years, a few life lessons, a few mental, emotional, and spiritual growth spurts and we finally moved to Kelowna. We began in March to meet with a group of people wanting to explore the idea of a missional faith community together. It's been good. It's been a stretch. It's been an adventure. Today it began to be a fulfillment of a dream.

Today LRC (Love Revolution Communities) descended on our sketchy fourplex, weeded, mowed, planted, cleaned and built garden boxes for the families who live here. Children dug in the dirt, played with bubbles, and coloured the cement all around the house with sidewalk chalk. Long after we leave here, LRC will have left an impression.

Now here we are, sitting at our kitchen table with a visiting friend and I am reflecting on the day. God is so incredibly, richly good to us. We are surrounded by beautiful people with enormous hearts and kind spirits. Sometimes I miss my childhood home and my heart sits aches a bit in my chest as I go about my life here. Not today though. Today my heart is full, content and satisfied to see this journey through.

The Cure of Kindness - Instalment 2!

It's the little things

I can honestly say that though grand gestures are a wonderful phenomenon and change lives, it's in the little moments of kindness that we realize how simple kindness can be for all of us. Sometimes it doesn't have to cost a ton of time or resources and the impact is still greater than you realize. Here is a story of such thoughtful actions from a young friend of mine in university....

Hey Sarah, here is my story

  My story happened twice. The first time I was standing in line at my University's cafeteria with a coffee. The line was getting quite long as it usually does around lunchtime. The man a couple people ahead of me reached the till and proceeded to pay for about 5 of us. I think we mostly had beverages, or small food items. I was blown away by the generosity. The second time I was actually buying a meal and when I went to pay, the lady said, "done." When I gave her a confused look she responded with, "Someone has left their student ID with me to pay for people's food." It was almost the end of the spring semester, and if you do not use all your food money as a res student it just goes back to the Uni. I couldn't believe what had happened. It is amazing, but these small acts of love have impacted me greatly. I have not done anything quite so grand, but I have paid for a couple coffees of strangers. 

  My story is really quite short, but I still remember it every time I am in line at my University cafeteria
  

  Caitlin

If you or someone you know has a kindness story they would like to contribute, email me at little_mother_@hotmail.com. You never know how your story might brighten someone's day, or better yet, inspire brand new acts of kindness! 

The cure of Kindness - Day one

A basement, a bedroom and a impromptu indoor pool

I have asked my friends and readers to send in stories of kindnesses that have changed their lives or just their day. I have some, but am hoping for more to post this month so if you have one, please send it to little_mother_@hotmail.com. Please let me know if you want to remain anonymous or if I am free to publish your name here.

I thought to start I would share a story of my own. I am blessed to have many, but I have picked this one for today. 

A few years ago, we had a bizarre rainstorm in my hometown. It poured like nothing we had ever seen before. People were canoeing in the parking lot of the mall and rivers were running down the streets. It was incredible to watch the lightening and the sheets of water hit the ground. 

Unfortunately, the next day we woke up to find an indoor pool we hadn't ordered in our basement. The kids thought it was hilarious as we scrambled to find shop vacs and fans and call the insurance adjuster. As it turned out, we were one of the lucky ones who didn't have sewage pumping up into our basement from broken drains and even broken toilets. Though we were grateful beyond measure for the lack of floaters, it also meant that the insurance company would do nothing for us. 

Another important detail in this story was that we had a teenager staying with our already large six person family and another couple moving in a week to join us in our four bedroom house. Staring at my drenched basement carpet and drywall, while my children joked about building a sailboat made me want to scream. It was definitely one of those stop-the-world-I-want-to-get-off moments.

As Alex began shoving soggy books and ruined treasures into garbage bags, I did the only thing I could think of in the moment and called one of my good friends who owned a truck. 

"Can I borrow your husband and your truck for the afternoon?" "Sure, why?" "My basement flooded and its really bad. I need to take a few loads to the dump and start tearing apart drywall." "Sure thing. I'll send him right over." 

While Alex picked away at the basement, I headed to the hardware store for some work gloves and heavy duty garbage bags. I was gone for about an hour as I had stopped for a little private pity party on the way. By the time I returned, my house was full of about thirty people who I had varying degrees of relationship with. Some I barely knew. My friend, knowing how many people were about to live in our house, had rallied the troops on our behalf. Halfway through the afternoon, the basement was cleared, the soggy drywall had been cut away and complimentary pizza had arrived from the local pizza place owned by good friends. Even thinking about it now brings tears to my eyes.

When dinner was over, the men folk were sitting around and asked if we had anything else that needed to get done. Alex said he had been meaning to take out the old broken fireplace downstairs and lengthen the living room so we could add a wall for another bedroom. Well, they all lit up with the excitement of three year old boys in a new sandbox and started listing off who owned axes and sledge hammers. Luckily at that point I had to go to work so the demolition phase could happen without my fretting presence. 

Within a week, our house was better suited for our big family than it had been before the flood.

The great thing about this story is that it was not just our lives that this kindness effected. In the coming weeks, some of the people who had been invited to our house that day started opening up to each other with more vulnerability than they had had the courage to before. We got to participate in all sorts of kindnesses initiated by that group of people because one day my friend wouldn't settle for just sending her husband and his truck. That, my friends, is the great thing about kindness. It is contagious.

Cooperative social experiments!

I caught some flack for the ideas in my last post for various reasons. I will not address them all here, but I did think one was certainly worth the effort of testing. I will need your help to do so. Let me explain.

I was told that I am a naive idealist if I think that love can actually, tangibly conquer anything. I was told that the world IS a dark place and there is absolutely nothing I can do to change that and it is at best naive and at worst arrogantly presumptuous for me to think so. Fine. Challenge accepted.

As someone who believes in the bible and the message that Jesus lived, I firmly believe that heaven can be walked out right here, right now. My heart beats with the knowledge that God's kingdom is one of peace, love, kindness, gentleness and hope where no one is left lonely or wanting. And I believe that as a citizen of that kingdom, I get to live by it's rules right now.

If you don't believe in God (as the person who called me naive doesn't) thats OK. The evidence is all around us in social science. We know that abuse lives in cycles. Well, so does community. Hate produces hate, love produces love. Period.

So, believe with me or don't. I don't ask that you make the same presumptions I do, instead let's try something together. Let's just tell stories and see how that affects our thinking, motivations and beliefs about the darkness in the world. My request is that you send me some stories about how kindness has changed something in your world. My email address is little_mother_@hotmail.com. I will compile stories and begin to share them one a day starting in the middle of March. I will keep sharing them until we run out. I am hoping for four weeks worth of stories.

They don't have to be stories that changed you or your life in huge ways, maybe it was just a kindness that brightened a lousy day. If you want to share a story that belongs to someone else, either leave their name out or get their permission first. If you wish to remain anonymous, that's cool. If you want me to share your story verbatim and give you credits, you got it. 

Stories change and inspire me regularly. As we have been journeying through this year of transition and  deliberate loss and giving birth to new ideas, it has been stories that have kept me going. Hearing other people's stories has given me courage. Reminding myself of our own stories has given me endurance. Stories are fabulous motivators.

I am so looking forward to reading more stories from some of you, my friends and loved ones! Please don't be shy or cynical! Or, if you are, please just write me anyway!

Sticks and stones

Today is anti-bullying day and I am sporting my pink hoodie in support of raising awareness about bullying. The funny thing is, I don't think bullying needs more awareness, kindness does. Before you get all uptight about me sounding unsupportive of a great cause, let me explain...

I hated elementary school. My memories include some laughter and a couple beloved teachers, but they are over shadowed by memories of feeling lonely, outcast, misunderstood and being "different." I learned to distrust people and their motives by Jr.High and had very few long term friends. I bounced from social group to social group never feeling like I belonged. I was teased about my height, weight, breast size, how I expressed my emotions, and my socio-economic status. Entering adulthood, I just assumed that is what the whole world is like.

The unfortunate part is that, for awhile, the whole world proved me right. The news was constantly streaming murder, violence, war, and rape into my home. Television shows and movies were full of conflict, violence, and yes, sometimes do-gooders, but often brooding ones who justified the means by their ends. Advertisements on TV, in magazines, and billboards were constant reminders of the ways I wasn't giving my children everything, being beautiful enough to satisfy my husband, or living in a nice enough house to invite people over. Somehow, I still felt like I didn't belong anywhere. That I wasn't good enough.

Worse than all of the indirect pressure, was the direct pressure. People who didn't understand that we were choosing a big family and a stay-at-home mom lifestyle would give us "helpful" advice. "Sarah, you could get a job too. There is subsidy for daycare now. Then you guys could buy a house." In our darkest time, Alex was laid off just before Hannah was born and we were forced to go on welfare for a few months. Alex was depressed, my Dad almost died, Hannah was an incredibly sick baby and I began to suffer from post-partem depression. When I was still pregnant, the man at the welfare office demanded that I go look for work and made a rather derogatory comment about why we were having another child if we couldn't support the one already in our care. It didn't matter that Alex is one of the most hard-working men I know. It didn't matter that we had paid into that service and it is meant to be a safety net. It didn't matter that Alex was determined to work again as soon as possible. We had been labelled lazy and it was apparently OK to punish us for it. Luckily he was corrected by a supervisor.

My point is, bullying is everywhere and constant. It is not just in school or from kids. It's in welfare offices, on the street, evident in road rage and permeating every social media platform created. Negativity, judgement and quick-witted sarcasm are not only present, but celebrated and encouraged by the laughter, assumptions, and self-righteous ideals of even the most mature, usually kind, individuals in moments of thoughtless carelessness. We are all aware of bullying. We all engage in it even it is just as silent spectators. 

My proposition is that maybe the movement of good news is just what we need. The coffee shop magazines that tell stories of kindness, justice and beauty feed my soul and make me a better person. The incredible videos of courage posted by my friends on Facebook give me hope and inspire me to be the kind of person that walks in courage myself. Just like words can hurt us, they can bring life and healing and joy.

So today, in honour of anti-bullying day, alongside our posts about bullying and the damage it causes, let's also make it pro-kindness day! I challenge every friend who reads this post today to share an uplifting story or video or quote in person, on Facebook or any other platform they have. 

It is not enough to abolish what is wrong, we must fill the gap that is left with what is right. 

If you want to dispel the darkness, you gotta shine some light.

The facebook dilemma

There are pivitol moments when parenting doesn't come with easy decisions. Your almost 13-year-old son approaching you asking to create a facebook account is one of those moments.

This happened to us in the summer as we were packing to move. Our son had very valid reasons to want to be connected online. We were moving away from the only home he had ever known and he wanted to be able to stay in contact with his friends and family.

My objections were just as valid.

At it's best, Facebook is a beautiful social platform from which healthy life-giving messages can be spread, loved ones can stay connected and share pictures and events, and old friends can be reunited. Facebook can be a place of inspiration with the best and simplest moments of mankind shared in a broad community. It can even be a place to find solace and feel like you are not alone when tragedy strikes. It can mobilize people toward common good and educate on global issues. At it's best, Facebook can be a wonderful tool.

At it's worst, Facebook can expose the worst in us. Pictures unintended to be shared can be posted by friends...or foes. Bullies can feel uninhibited without having to see the consequences on their victims faces. The mob mentality can run rampant with quick blame and venomous hatred when sad things happen and perspectives of real incidents aren't fully shared. We can feel justified in slipping a veiled word of insult into our statuses. We can even mistake a forlorn status update for genuine reaching out. At it's worst, Facebook is a breeding ground for the worst in us.

Navigating this online space with honesty, dignity, and discernment can be tricky even for us grown-ups. I can't shelter him forever and certainly he has a deep need to keep in touch with people he loves. Let's face it. His buddies probably aren't going to write him letters.

What tipped the scales for me was finding a box in his room with a T-shirt stretched over it. I was very upset and and told him it was irresponsible to destroy his T-shirt like that! He gave me a very stern look, "That box is inappropriate and that is irresponsible to have in here."

We had picked up boxes from the liquor store to pack with and hadn't bothered to look at what was on them. There is a particular brand of wine named after dogs of the feminine variety......

I pulled the shirt off the box and saw that he had tried to scribble over the word that offended him and couldn't black it out. So I asked him why he couldn't just put the box out of his room if it bothered him. Again, I was surprised at his response, "Right Mom, put it out where my little sisters will see it. Like that's responsible."

It was at this point that we decided Levi could open a facebook account. This kid has a pretty good navigation system of his own.

He knows how to use his words kindly and he knows how to remove things that could hurt someone's feelings from his wall. He talks with us about who he friends and knows he can talk to us about anything he sees there. His privacy settings are high. We have talked with him about the fact that Facebook basically means that his life is public record. What happens in Vegas, doesn't stay in Vegas anymore.

Alex and I know eachother's passwords. This keeps us accountable to each other and saves us from any temptation to say or do anything we wouldn't want the other to see. In the same way, Levi has shared his password with us. I don't care what anyone says about privacy, I value safe accountability higher than my privacy. This doesn't mean we snoop on each others Facebook accounts. Just knowing that someone who cares about us has access helps all of us to think carefully before we press the send button.

The funny thing is, after all of that begging and decision-wrestling and deal-making, he doesn't really use his account anyway. So now he is dealing with the facebook politics of people who think he is ignoring them just because he doesn't respond several times a day. Ah, Facebook.

Day 31

December 31

Finishing a year well

A few weeks ago our activity was to write "10 things I love about you" notes to each person in our family with the intention of opening those today. This gave us all the opportunity to see ourselves through the eyes of the people who know us best. But only the lovable parts. The parts that smooth over the rough patches. It is a way to say goodbye to the year past and yet bring with us the best of who we were into the new year. Because my parents were here as well, we each wrote a note for them to open with us. It was beautiful to hear my children's appreciation of each other. Some very wise and insightful words were spoken over the course of the evening. It was precious. My personal favourite from my envelope was, "I love your tummy, I lived there once." 

Resolutions so often give voice to what we see as weaknesses or faults in ourselves. We focus on where we faltered and promise not to do it again, only to be discouraged before February hits with our lack of endurance or will power. I am not certain that this is really the best way to begin a new season. There is plenty of time all year round to choose to be resolved about "fixing" oneself. For myself, this year I am choosing to honour the year that is ending and let it go. 

2012 was a year stuffed full and bursting at the seams with change. 

We spent the year pregnant with a dream that was ready to see the light of reality. We faced insecurities. We measured our worth in hours of work and then slowly passed on that work to other capable hands. We learned to measure our worth in different units. Then we learned not to measure it at all. 

This year we said more good-byes than we had ever before. We laughed louder and cried harder and embraced tighter. We let go of a life we had built for ourselves that was good and satisfying to find out what may lay just beyond the horizon of safety. We took a great leap and have yet to land.

This year exposed our weaknesses, flaws and intimate failures which left us raw and naked. We found the worst bits of ourselves hiding dormant in the recesses of our hearts, waiting for the tethers of comfort to be undone. We faced those bits with frustration and tears and conflict, until we came to accept them and understand them. Then, like shadows react to the sun reaching higher in the sky, they shrunk and didn't seem so encompassing.

This year we chose to trust God with everything and discovered the freedom of having nothing to lose.

So, we end this year grateful for good company, new friends and old friends. We release the wealth and health, frustration and failures of the past year and embrace the new one. With our children and my parents we honour the people we have been by sharing the parts we hope will go on. 

May 2013 be a year of incredible adventure and growth.

Day 30

December 30th

More Art Gallery Fun!

I know, I missed a few days. There was cooking and a Levi/Dad day and some other fun, but the important part has been that Grandma and Grandad Dalton have come to visit! We have been enjoying their company and introducing them to some of our favourite parts of Kelowna. 

Today, we spent the morning at Metro church because the kids really wanted Mom and Dad to meet Pops. He is the man Levi has been cooking with on Tuesdays. It was a very cool morning and the message was a good reminder about Jesus' yoke being easy. There is a significant temptation these days to pick up our burdens again. To be impatient. To falter in our faith and our beliefs about God's promises. This mornings message was the reminder I needed that it would be foolish and frustrating to stop trusting God.

After church and a nice lunch, we headed down to the art gallery for the weekly Sunday afternoon family craft. This week was New Year's resolution magnets.

From left to right,

Hannah's resolution is to do more abstract art.

Grandma's resolution is to smile more.

I made a matching set of resolutions for Grandad and I. I intend to keep the "don't worry" and send "be happy" home with Dad.

Alex's resolution is to find a way to keep blacksmithing.

Levi's resolution is to be kinder to his three sisters, depicted here as angels.

Shiloh's is to love more.

Selah's is to take care of Coco by herself.

I love the different mediums we all chose and how some of used words and some didn't. As parents, we hope to instil certain values and ideas that we believe are important, but we also try to make room for our children to become their very own selves. I appreciate that art has a way of magnifying our uniqueness. The Kelowna Art Gallery is quickly becoming one of my favourite places.

Day 22, 23, and 24

December 22, 23, and 24

A different kind of magic

(sorry about the cheese! 'tis the season!)

As we have approached Christmas Day, there have been several delightful surprises. Visitors stopping on their way to see relatives, pretty packages arriving from home and invitations from new friends have all served to make this season feel extra special. We are all very grateful for the warmth we have received this Christmas. In spite of all the visits and treats and fun, however, my favourite activity was tonight.

Every year, we are so involved with church parties and concerts that December seems to just fly past without much warning. This year has been so different. And quiet. It has been a bittersweet mix of missing the party and participation and relishing the slow pace and opportunity to reflect. One thing we have enjoyed entirely is the opportunity, for the first time, to create our own traditions. We have never experienced a total lack of expectations before. 

So tonight, we headed down to Metro. We served and ate dinner alongside the people of a beautiful inner-city community to celebrate the season. We smiled and shook hands and served coffee and cleaned-up. For three hours we watched from a distance as all four of our children genuinely grinned their way through an evening of hard work. At the end, I watched Shiloh give one of the two little stuffed animals she had just been given to an old man and tell him it was to make him happy. 

Before we got there, we talked with our kids about who Jesus really is and what he came to say. He taught that we should not invite only those to dinner who can in turn serve us a meal. He taught that it is the lowliest servant that is among the greatest of mankind. He set the example that love can heal, sooth, restore and conquer. He told us that we are capable of becoming like him.

We have very little to give this year. Even to each other. We could choose to feel sorry for ourselves or apologize to our children for not lavishing them with stuff, but we're not going to. This discomfort we are experiencing has grown us individually and as a family in ways we have never expected. We have learned that enough is so much less than we thought. We have learned that there is a measure of blessing in having nothing to lose. This is a life experience that is stretching all of us and our perceptions about what we need and what we have a right to. We have watched and seen that even someone with nothing has much to offer. I am not sorry about that. 

As we walked away from the dinner tonight, I listened to my children talk to each other about their evening. They expressed feeling content in a way they hadn't before. Levi said he wanted to remember that feeling for the next time he was grumpy or feeling sorry for himself. He said it was a special kind of contentment. I can learn a thing or two from these kids. I do learn, more than a thing or two, from these kids. 

To me, this is Christmas magic. That my children can see beauty and whimsy and meaning in having nothing to offer but themselves. That they can be filled with joy in spite of the present pile being significantly lower than in seasons past. I can not think of any gift I could open that would mean more.

An inspired extra

I am passionate about community, families and parenting. I suffer from a ridiculous and sometimes overwhelming sense of idealism. I really believe that if we break out of the humdrum of racing other humans and climbing ladders, we can change the world. Not by grand gestures and fundraisers and picket signs. Not that I am opposed to those things, but real lasting, healthy, healing change comes from the daily choices of everyday people. Choices to engage solutions instead of complaining about the problems. Choices to create bridges instead of building walls. Choices to bring hope and options instead of judgment. 

I met a couple at our last leadership conference for Lifelinks that seemed like kindred spirits. We became facebook friends and went our separate ways. Well, I came across this lovely lady's blog today and I am again inspired to cling to my optimism. I am not alone in it. These people are my kind of crazy. If you have any interest in kids, families, international issues, HIV, or just the goodness humankind is capable of, give it a read. Totally worth your time.

Day 21

December 21

Mommy Daughter Date for Hannah

We used to call her Hannah Banana. Cute nickname. Rolls off the tongue. It was perfect until we found out bananas caused her vomit violently for hours until she passed out in my arms. Less cute. Now when someone calls her that, she reminds me how much she hates bananas. 

Hannah doesn't throw up anymore if there happens to be bananas hiding in her food. She has grown out of that sensitivity. She has grown out of rather a lot of things and into many others. From a Yoda-faced, cranky, uncomfortable baby, to a graceful, kind and very beautiful young lady. I find myself looking at her more these days and thinking, "where did that stunningly beautiful girl come from?" Not that she didn't get good genes. Alex and I really could have been internationally renowned in the modelling industry. We just decided we wouldn't enjoy all that flying. Seriously though, she is amazing. 

Part of Hannah feeling like she is growing up is the constant requests to let her cook. By constant, I mean more than a few times a day. So, although this would not be my idea of a great date, Hannah's date consisted of us creating a meal plan together, buying groceries and starting on tomorrow's very fancy and overly involved borscht. Hannah was gleeful and exuberant even when we spent a half hour driving around a parking lot at 3pm looking for a parking spot. I chose to focus on her glee rather than be consumed by my own frustration with shopping the week before Christmas. It was fun. 

This is us browning our short ribs in preparation for their 3 hour roasting after which they will be shredded and mingled with veggies and other scrumptious things to, finally, create soup.

Day 20

December 20th

We broke tradition....

I know, I know, the parents are the ones who are supposed to have the will power to wait until Christmas to open presents. I get that. I do. But for the 13 years we have been married, we have never had to look at unopened presents for days and days before. The Christmas trees and stockings have always been at the grandparents houses. We did not anticipate our complete lack of maturity in this area. The packages all came this week. We tried. We tucked them under the little Christmas tree and we tried to ignore them. Part of the problem is Alex. Yes, I am blaming him. He has a very analytical mind and is constantly asking why. It was only a matter of time before we questioned why we have to wait until Christmas day. The answer was clear when it involved other people, but nothing is stopping us now! Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!

Before any Christmas do-gooders give me a lecture, let me put your mind at least slightly at ease. We only opened one that was addressed to all of us. It was the perfect one to open! The kids LOVED doing the puzzle a couple weeks ago and only complained that it was too quick and 300 pieces was not enough. Well, today we are building a 2000 piece puzzle thanks to Aunty Erin. I hope she will forgive me of robbing her the joy of thinking we had opened it five days from now. 

In 1.5 hours we only got this far. 2000 is a lot more than 300. Regardless, merriment was had by all and our naughty present opening selves aren't at all remorseful. 

Day 19

December 19

Daddy Daughter Day for Shiloh

 Shiloh needs lots of hugs and "I loves you"s. She needs to be listened to and actually heard. It brightens her whole world when someone demonstrates that they really "get" her. This sounds like a lot of work, but the truth is, when she feels loved, she is extravagant in it's return. Because she is sensitive and a little thinned-skinned, she is gentle with other people. She is quick to encourage and lend a hand. She will find the left-out kid on a field and invite them to play. She cheers for the underdog. She will love the people around her with a depth and breadth that is astounding. She takes some very deliberate investment, but the returns are beyond worth it.

A great example of this happened this morning. I walked into the kitchen to find a bowl of cereal as well as two pieces of toast on the table. Beside them was this card....

Yesterday, Shiloh and Selah decided to create her own big big sister holiday. Shiloh made a card that she had Selah sign, then woke Selah up early so they could make Hannah breakfast together. I wish I could articulate how beautiful this was. I can't think of a better way to begin a day.

Because of Shiloh's very soft disposition, time spent alone with one of us means more to her than the others. Not that the other kids don't love that special attention, but to Shiloh it is more life-giving than anything else we do.

For their Daddy Daughter Date, Alex took her to the H2O. She LOVES the swimming pool there and although she really likes it when we all go together, she sometimes gets frustrated trying to keep up with her older siblings. Going there and having Alex's full and undivided attention was a rare and wonderful treat. The grin on her face as well as the thousand words a minute story was proof of her appreciation.

Sometimes people ask us if we regret getting married and having kids so young. Certainly, there have been some sacrifices and some dreams that have been set-aside for the most youthful parts of our lives. I would not tell my daughters that getting married at seventeen and having four kids before their twenty-third birthday is for everyone. However, I honestly can't think of anything I was dreaming about before kids that was worth more than this. 

Day 17

December 17

Mommy Daughter Day for Selah

I love all my children completely and entirely and without conditions, but I like them for different reasons. Levi has the same interesting, creatively analytical mind as his father. He is an excellent conversationalist. Hannah is sweet-spirited. Even as the age of teenage-hood approaches, she continues to be the peace-maker in our home. She is very often the voice of reason when the Marriott house gets grumpy and tired. Shiloh is the giver. My blog title is little mother, but I share that title with Shiloh. She is always eager to hold a baby or occupy a toddler for a weary Mama. If there is a way for her to help, she is watching to find it. These are just the things that stand out, there are so many reasons my children are a blessing to me.

But this is Selah's day. Selah, youngest of four, seven-year-old ball of energetic fun. Selah, whose name, by some definitions, means "to pause and contemplate" is an interesting character who regularly inspires my own pausing to contemplate. Selah seems to have only two speeds; quietly self-occupied and the fully engaged center of attention. She seems equally happy in both roles and is equally entertaining in either. The other night we were at a Christmas dinner for people who volunteer at Metro. At one point, I looked over to find her lecturing the entire children's table about something they all found clearly interesting, and at another point she was in the far corner of the room, away from everybody, dancing to the dinner music by herself. She is so comfortable being in her own skin, it makes my Mama heart happy.

Needless to say, she is good company. Today, she and I went to the Marmalade Cat for lunch and the moment we get out of the van, this is the conversation we start with;

Selah: So you know how you can't see sperm, well you can with a telescope.

Me: Do you mean microscope?

Selah: Ya, I always mix those up.

Me: Just curious, what makes you think of sperm right now?

Selah: Eating.

Me: Eating?

Selah: 'Cause growing babies need good food. 

Me: Of course.

At this point there is a lull in the conversation as we order and ogle our mango cake thing.

After a healthy dose of sugar, and as we are starting to each our much healthier sandwiches, the conversation turns even more interesting.....

Selah: Mom, did you know you're still young enough to have babies?

Me: Uh, huh?

Selah: Nothing. I just wanted to say you are still young enough to have babies. Just because. If you wanted to know. 

Hmm. I can only guess what is going on in that little head......

Anyway, Day 17 down, 14 more to go. Past the halfway mark and this whole thing has been a success. We have gotten to know our kids and each other a little better this month, as well as made our first December away from home feel special. 

Day 12

December 12

Bake cookies together!

We have had this jar waiting for awhile. Finally getting to bake it was a very fun, no cost family activity. Messy, tasty and free, its a hard activity to beat! Due some other, and important, responsibilities, I missed today's main event, but I did get to enjoy the fruits of my children's labour. And let's just admit that, sometimes, that is what it's all about. They like to show off, and we like to enjoy their successes!

YUM!

Day 8

December 8 

Photo-scavenger hunt!

Today we went all over Kelowna and West Bank to take pictures that fit the clues we started out with. After getting the pictures all together, we have created a story arc with captions.....

Our story begins with an innocent morning of light reading.....

Until suddenly, Mom and Dad, while reading about how to scratch a wombat, discover an old legend about the Ogopogo being trapped in a tiny puddle by an evil, unscratched wombat. They decide to go in search of the poor, lonely, trapped Ogopogo....

Mom and Dad find the Ogopogo, wake him and ride him to safety!!

The very grateful Ogopogo expresses his gratitude.

Levi warns him not to get fresh with his sisters. 

This magnificent rescue adventure is over by noon. The Marriotts, enticed by their new hero status, go in search of new adventures.....

They find a blaze! Mom and Dad disappear into the flames. The children hear them crying out for help! Unfettered, they brave the flames to find their parents!

Once the fire is under control, the mini Marriotts succumb to the disappointment of their parents seemingly being lost forever. They head to a local church in hopes they will know of a family that might take them in. They will promise to do chores for their supper.

Once again the children are smiling! A kind soul from the parish found Mom and Dad and nursed them back to health!

Together again, the Marriott family share a cheesy pose by the lake to celebrate!