Finding His Way: Theology with The Boo

I was listening to NPR and they were talking about religion.  I love NPR, but when they talk about religion, it's usually what I consider the non-committal, embrace-the-world kind.  [Except that religion is about what you *believe,* which means there are things you *don't* believe.]  The woman they were interviewing said she didn't pray much anymore, but was "finding her own way."

Teaching Moment 101.

"Boo, when you get older, you'll meet people who say they are looking for God, but they are finding their own way..."

"But there's only One way, mom.  Jesus is the way."

I was proud of the brain-washing my church, his school and I have done.  Nothing is worth doing that isn't worth doing well, and all that.  Cuz you know, brain-washing is partly what good parenting is about.  [Chew with your mouth closed, wash your hair, clean your room...] If you let them "find their own way" as children, they'll get lost.  I wouldn't let him find his own way to the store let alone his own way to Eternity.  He may reject our faith one day, or find a different version.  He may say one day, "This is not the path I want," but he'll at least know that I knew the way and I carefully led him down the path that I thought was right.

"That's right, honey.  You don't have to look all over and get lost on your own, because the Bible tells us which way to go."

I continued, "Boo, way on the other side of things, you'll meet people who say you have to look for God a certain way, that you have to say certain words in a certain way in a certain place and tell you exactly what to do...."

He interrupted me:

"Like a bully!"

I was stunned.  Out of the mouth of babes.  Isn't it true?  Maybe everything you need to know, you really did learn in Kindergarten!  Or at least 4th grade.  My Boo has had a Bully in his class for the 3rd year in a row.  I would never wish this on my child, or any child, but here is where the Ugly has been transformed to Good.  My Aspie has learned what a Bully is.  Were it not for his [and my] suffering for 3 THREE three years, I'm not sure he'd know.

Bullies.  Bullies of the worst kind.  The ones that take the weak and the trusting.  The ones that blind you from Grace.  Not just the Koreshes and the Jeffs.  But also the more subtle; the ones that say your clothes have to be a certain color and a certain length; the ones that want to make God black & white and rules all over.

Moonie Wedding

I pray that you will recognize a Bully when you face one.  I hope you know that any God worth His salt doesn't boss you around and make you feel badly about yourself.  That a Good God doesn't bargain with you and make you do stuff to earn His love.



 

Finally...whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.    ~ Philippians 4:8

Meme with Boo

Boo, age 6-1/2 (3 years ago) - answered these questions while wearing his birthday suit.  He's a little more modest now.

1. What is something mom always says to you?
We always have to go to school and church

2. What makes mom happy?
When I sing

3. What makes mom sad?
I disobey her

4. How does your mom make you laugh?
By tickling me?

5. What was your mom like as a child?
I don’t know

6. How old is your mom?
49

7. How tall is your mom?
(Looks around the hall) I’ll be right back (brings back yardstick)   You’re 36”

8. What is her favorite thing to do?
Go shopping

9. What does your mom do when you're not around?
Bible study or (work at) Liberty or shopping to buy me some toys

10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?
What does famous mean?

11. What is your mom really good at?
Playing Sorry

12. What is your mom not very good at?
Not good at tickling

13. What does your mom do for a job?
To protect me.

14.What is your mom's favorite food?
Korean noodles!

15.What makes you proud of your mom?
When you win a game.

16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be? 

You would be Francis (Eww!  It's that whiny badger!)

17. What do you and your mom do together?

We go to the grocery store and the playground

18. How are you and your mom the same?
We have the same colored skin.  Mine’s a little darker but we’re still the same.

19. How are you and your mom different?
You wear glasses and I don’t wear glasses.

20. How do you know your mom loves you?

I just know.

21. What does your mom like most about your dad?

He’s your husband

22. Where is your mom's favorite place to go?
Aunt Brenda’s house

23. Moms favorite movie? 

John & Kate + 8 (Up until this time, he'd never seen a movie.  And this was back when John & Kate were cute and nice!)

Bedtime Butterflies, Birds & Bees

Butterfly kisses on his damp cheeks.  A long, rough day for my 9-year old.
A punch from a camp-mate.
Too much sun.
Too much fun.
Too much of everything today.
He fought my hugs, wanting to fight the world.  A bed time book, a long, long prayer and lots of hugs brings him to sleep's door.

Little flutters of oma's eyelashes on his baby skin.  Butterfly kisses.

"Is that what butterflies do when they get married?"
I chuckled and said, "I don't know. "
He ponders, "They don't have weddings because they're just insects."
Then concludes, "They just mate - like snakes."

I hope I'll remember this night.  These moments...these moments? They're what make up our life.

Good night, sweet one.

Boo's Couch

Today I sank.
Down deep.

There have been changes in my life lately.  It's not the new job.  Or that I feel like I don't have time for myself. Or the hot flashes.  There are people in my life who are disrespecting me.  In a way I've had to live with for many, many years.  Until I had Boo, then I could tell everyone to stick it and I stayed home and went shopping and to play dates.

Somehow, these people with their disrespecting have come into my life again.  I volunteered for this?

It's not any one of those things.  It's a hundred little things and not any of them.  It's my chemicals whirlygigging around me.

The soft part in the back of the roof of my mouth got tingly.  And my neck got tingly tight.  The way it does before the tears come sliding out the eyes.

I didn't want to do anything.  Just lay around.  I couldn't get up.  I couldn't feed my baby.

My husband and son came to be with me.  Boo wanted to know what was the matter.  I said I didn't feel well.  He sees my tears.

Are you sad mommy?
Yes.
Why?
I don't know.  I don't feel well.

Wait.  Do you not feel well, or do you not feel well because you're sad?

Such wisdom.

He sat next to me, this little boy with Asperger's Syndrome.  This boy without Theory of Mind.  I said will you hold my hand.
He did.
Tight.
Pudgy, dry, square hands.
He sat there and healed me.

Old Reliables That Weren't

Do you remember Merthiolate?

Boo got an ouch yesterday.  He prefers Neosporin, which doesn't hurt,  over Iodine, which does.  I told him we didn't need to use Iodine on his particular kind of ouch (blood blister,) but maybe we should use Bactine, to make the hurt go away.

When we were little, we didn't have Bactine, which has been around since the 50's. My parents were firm believers that it had to HURT for the medicine to work.  They just didn't trust anything that didn't hurt; it couldn't possibly kill those nasty germs.

As each family has their allegiances to certain products, my mom had hers to Merthiolate.  So we didn't have Mercurochrome, which made your skin turn red.  We didn't have iodine, which made your skin turn brown.  We had Merthiolate, which turned your skin a bright, fluorescent orange.  It was the stuff that really.  REALLY.  hurt.  It made you wish you'd die from an infection or blood poisoning before you had to endure the pain of your mom swabbing your open wound with the scratchy plastic wand.  I'm sure that soldiers with blood gushing out of their wounds were glad my mom wasn't around because she would have POURED Merthiolate into the wound.

I did the old person thing of saying to Boo, "When I was your age, we didn't have all these choices and we only had MERTHIOLATE," and went on to tell him the gruesome story of this childhood torture device.

In writing this post, I did some research.
So.  Did you notice the name Mercurochrome?  Did you ever notice the similarity to the word MERCURY?  Mercurochrome is the trademark for merbromin. The molecular formula, for those of you interested, is
C₂₀H₈Br₂HgNa₂O_6.  Notice the Hg right in the middle there?  Do you remember your periodical table from high school chemistry?  Yup.  Hg = MERCURY.

So I looked up Merthiolate.  It's the trade name for thimerosol.  Got that?  THIMEROSOL.  The controvertial preservative in vaccines?  That is a mercury compound, too:  C₉H₉HgNaO₂S

Not only did it HURT LIKE HELL, we were being POISONED!!

So the punch line is, after I told Boo how much Merthiolate hurt, he said, "Mom, mom, it shouldn't be called Merthiolate.  It should be called HURT-thiolate."

Right on.

Sign of the Times

I was texting with some family members at lunch today.  We were expecting them from NY, through the snow storm.  "WRU?" and such.

Boo looked over at me and signed "I love you."

And I returned the sign.

Boo said, "Look, mom, I'm texting with my hand!"

Sunday Sounds

Boo:  It's amazing that you love me.  That you love me forever. 
Me:  Yup.  I love you.  Forever.
Boo:  How did you know that?  Where did you learn to do that?  Did God love you first and teach you?
Me:  The Holy Spirit gave it to me.  All good things come from above.



"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change."  - James 1:17

Fuzzy Segue

I reached across the dinner table to remove a white fuzz from Boo's hair.

Boo: Ow mommy, what are you doing?
Me:  You had something on your hair.
Boo:  What is it?
Me: I think it's a goose feather from my jacket or something.
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Boo:  I always like to see the Tooth Fairy.
Me:  \\figurative head scratch// What brought that up?
Boo:  I thought the white thing might be the Tooth Fairy's hair or something.

Pipe Dreams

I just think it's funny that an 8-year old thinks about stuff like this:

Comment by my mechanical engineer brother:

1. Left side animal is propelling the gear for the well gear.
2. The gear is related to the pulley on top of the well which operates the bucket.
3. When the bucket reaches the top, the automatic tilting mechanism pours bucket into a trough into a spigot.
4. Right side animal opens the spigot knob if he wants a drink.
5. Whenever the bucket gets stuck in the well, the right side animal takes the elevator down to fix the problem.


It seems so obvious and logical to me!

Great minds think alike.  Apparently.

Che Sera Sera

"Mom, I'm going to miss you when I marry my wife."

That's Italian!

Every night is our special time, Boo and me.  We snuggle, we read, we pray.  Tonight, we opened up a book by an author by the name of DiPaolo.

"That sounds like an Italian name," I say casually.

Boo:  "Mom, do they speak Italian in Italy?"
bb:    "Yes, they do."
Boo:  "I knew it!  I was checking to see if you knew."

Communication

Boo has a good friend Z in his class, who is seriously in the running to marry.  When he's 25.   Her little sister started Kindergarten this year.  Boo loves Z and T. 

He told me he saw T at Chapel.  I said, "Did you say 'hi'?"

"Yes, mom, we communicated."

Well, excuuuuse me! ;-)

Sea Food

Boo had a play date the other day.   A little boy with green eyes and brown nubbins of a crew cut.  We went to the store before heading to the play ground to buy a snack and drink.  How about cheese crackers?  Peanut butter crackers?

The little boy said he doesn't like peanut butter "because it gets stuck on the roof of my mouth."

Boo piped in, "When I eat dried seaweed, it gets stuck on the roof of my mouth, too."

.

Blueprint

Door bell rings. Door opens."Mommy! Can you print out a picture of an igloo? Daddy and I want to build one but we need to see how they're designed!"

Starving Artist

 /

Boo is the creative type.  Loves music.  Draws like a fiend.  A free thinker.  A slob.

But I digress.

He got a Christmas card from an uncle.  It was one of those musical things.  Open it up, and it tinkles a Christmas hymn.  A big check falls out and floats to the floor.  He told me to keep the check and ran off with the singing card.
/

I'm the One That He Wants

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Take Out

We have a favorite Chinese take-out.  The mom and dad are awesome cooks.  The son?  Not so much.  Tonight, we had the misfortune of getting the son to make our food.  Hubs and I were commenting how it just didn't have the usual zip.

Of course Boo had questions about this.  Why?  How come?  Why can't he cook?

I was explaining that some people are good are different things and some are not.  Some are good at drawings or math, and others are not.  So, some are not good at cooking...

"Oh!  like daddy!"

Badda-bum!

Eight is Enough

/
My husband and I are hitting a milestone birthday in early 2010. I'd like to have a big bash. I was blabbing on about it at dinner last night and HH was awfully quiet. When I finally took a breath, he said," I don't think I'm ready to turn 50."

Then a little voice peeps up, "I'm not ready to turn 8."

Potent Thoughts

I was reading my own post about what it took to become a mom. I was so overwhelmed with emotion, I wanted to take the opportunity for some luvvin. I went to Boo, held him in my arms and said, "Boo, I love you so, so much. I know it was sad for your tummy mommy to lose you. . ."

"Mom? I have to poo."

Mmmmmooo

I've kept my promise of packing Boo's lunches. Today though, we all overslept and scrambled out the door late.

After school, driving home, I usually ask how his lunch was. He told me bacon-burgers were on the menu. Lovely. Boo got two, just for good measure.

"Mom, there are bits of bacon on it. . .
and cow."

Moo.
*