Urban Mission: Desegregation but not Patronizing

White folks, we can't just go on urban mission with some grand plan to fix the city.

My reading list this week has included Home Girl: Building a Dream House on a Lawless Block and Generous Justice: How God's Grace Makes Us Just  which have taught me a few things:

1.  You think you aren't racist?  You are racist when you think "Oh that's just their culture, but we do it this way" particularly if you are implying that your way is the right way and their way is "just" their culture.
2.  You think you aren't racist?  You are racist when you teach your children to ignore color.  That which you keep a mystery or forbidden subject becomes something to fear, and thus breeds racism.
3.  You think some people shouldn't be helped because they caused their own trouble? Then you don't understand the doctrine of grace or the gospel.
4.  You think you are special and can move into the city and be somebody's hero?  What you really need to do is just touch the people around you whereever you are, just because you have a gospel heart towards them that absolutely compels you to just love them. Who they are. Where they are.

Various people and things do need to be fixed, sure.  That's true everywhere- urban, suburban, exurban, or rural. People are hurting, people are causing hurt, people are tripped up, man. There but for the grace of God go I- I mean, for real.  I struggle every day with just wanting my cushy comfortable life. But that's not what Jesus was about, and I want to be a Jesus follower.  So I have to get down with the kind of people that Jesus was concerned with.

Who is your neighbor?

Seven Kids and Noise

The day we all left for Spring Break and left our boarding foreign student home alone, he posted to Facebook, "I am so lonely, sitting here with three cats."  He then stated that he needed some companionship.  Eight days later, we had unloaded and I'd put away most of the kitchen things when he walked in from a late study session- he BEAMED and gave me a big hug.   Three days later, he told me that "I love your family, but I need a nap in the afternoon." And he asked me how soon could he maybe move into the garage apartment.

I'm sort of giggling.  I know that the house, especially in the afternoon, is boisterous. But at the same time, I cringe to imagine what it would be like if each of my  kids were individually as loud as some others  I've known....And once again a mom of a toddler is asking on a forum, "How do I teach my one year old not to be so loud?"

Why is it that some babies just SCREAM and squeal and cry more loudly than others? I'm not entirely sure, but I know that they do.  I'm all for healthy expression....  but that's why I teach my kids to "take it down a notch."  So that their expression is healthful for ALL of us. Because after all, we have to live with each other, so it's only fair, right?

I start with myself.  Is it necessary to holler across the house to someone? Or can I actually take my feet until I can see the whites of their eyes? Am I unnecessarily loud?

The environment: what noises can be muffled?  Should there be some acoustical treatment in the room? Music and TV do not need and should not be played continuously-  and when they are, they don't always need be loud. You can really turn down a movie if you turn on the closed captions. Use the knob that goes to 11, and set it to 2-3.

Speaking of 2-3, I play a game with the kids pretty early on-- the volume game.  We SING VERY LOUDLY, LOUDLY, LOUDLY, then we sing very softly, softly, softly. We play whisper whisper.  We look at the knob and turn it 1-2-3-etc up to as loud as they can stand, usually no more than 7.  Then-- when they are too loud I can say "OH you are at a 7! Take it down to 3 please."  We talk about appropriate volume-- in church we do 1-2, in the house 2-3. Lecturing is 4. Outside is 5-7, but frankly the neighbors should not have to listen to you all the time so if you are near each other try the 2-3. One of my son's teachers tells the kids to use their "6 inch voice" which refers to how loud you have to be so that someone standing 6 inches away can hear you.

All this, and I still have to monitor volume constantly. Immaturity is all about the inability to really imagine anything from some other point of view-  so until they grow up, you will have to remind them.

Compassion: drawn into their suffering and sharing it

When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.


When he went ashore he saw a great crowd, and he had compassion on them and healed their sick.

But a Samaritan, as he journeyed, came to where he was, and when he saw him, he had compassion.

The thing about Jesus was that He was God incarnate.  It wasn't enough to be Creator and Orchestrator... he wanted to share humanity too.  And he didn't just come down and give it the good old college try-  he went the way of the impoverished. He never knew privilege. And his compassion were for those common people, the ones suffering: poverty, health issues, death, enslavement. And he was moved toward them.  He wasn't repelled, he wanted to be around them and to heal them, encourage them, bless them, promise them.


Tonight I heard that a sweet gal I know through a homeschool board- oh she loved her son and has always desired more children- lost her only son through a tragic accident today.  Lift up her family, have compassion, feel a little of her grief, pray for healing, encourage and bless her and others you know who need a smile and a sweet word.

Seven Quick Takes

1.  My teen got his braces off Tuesday but hasn't let me take a picture yet.
2.  We did a pretty good job packing the van this time to drive to Austin for Spring Break- first time I've ever come to town during SXSW. Usually we stayed home and gardened. Traffic during SXSW is horrible. My 15yo put it this way, on FB, "The Interstate is dead. SXSW killed it."
3.  It was snowing when we left KC.  Two hours down the road, the snow had stopped and the road was dry.  Three hours, I saw a jonquil. Just one.  Four hours, I saw dogwoods and soon after a few redbuds.  Leaving Austin today going towards Houston, saw some rain lilies and a few red flowers. Surely we'll see bluebonnets Sunday as we drive back up...
4.  You can get sunburned on a cloudy day.  Particularly when the haze burns off a little.
5.  There is nothing in the world like cousins.
6.  Or 512 Pecan Porter. Or the Whip In.
7.  I'm too old to stay up this late.:)

DIY kids: you have feet that work, use them!

This morning the boy that lives around the block rang the bell, looking for a ride to school again. He lucked out, someone was leaving in a car and offered to take him.  Once before though, we told him to walk, just like we'd tell our own kids when they miss the bus.

My 9 year old walks to school. He'd like to ride his bike- but can you believe kids aren't allowed to ride their bikes to school anymore?  It's a risk hazard for the school.  The schools are NOT ALLOWED to have bike racks on their property~  my elementary student isn't allowed to ride his bike.  My teens ride their bikes and have to lock the bikes up on fences or the access rails or the cage around the A/C units.  My friend makes her boys ride their bikes to their school in Austin, TX, and they are the ONLY students to even ask if they could ride their bikes.  Parents line up starting 45 minutes prior to first bell, congesting traffic for over an hour, to drop off their able-bodied children at the school, and THIS IS CONSIDERED NORMAL? And then 'they' complain that our kids are getting fat?  Who decided it is too much a risk hazard for our kids to walk upwards of a mile to school each day?  I did it when I was a kid. But our kids today can't do it? We need to allow our kids to do more.

At 7 a.m. my 9yo walks out the door. Alone. To walk to school. In the "inner city."  Only one of about 4 white kids in his whole school. Am I crazy?  I don't think so. I let my kids walk to the Family Dollar, too. My teens can ride their bikes to their school just over 3 miles away. They walk to the park over a mile away, to the shopping district 1 and a half miles away, to the library just over 2 miles away. My teen once took his 4yo and 7yo sisters to walk to the park together. My Twelve Girl and Niner walk to the Save-a-Lot to buy groceries all by themselves, using my debit card and always remembering their own shopping bags.

You know, the mileage you get on your sneakers is going to make more impact on the world oil crisis than all your bitchen about gas prices.

Reading

This week I read a fun article someone had linked from Facebook, called How I Taught My Kid to Read with Manicure Scissors or something like that. The whole thing was so charming, I nearly wished I'd had a pair of manicure scissors for my children to covet.  Then I remember the great lengths I went to hide all sharp objects from my firstborn, who cut the carpet and the vertical blinds in our rental as well as all the cuffs of our winter coats, the shoelaces in all our boots and even the cats' whiskers. Twice.

I have always been a reader. My cousins used to tease that I'd read the entire cereal box, my mee-mee would say I'd read anything I could get my hands on. My mother thinks I read to get out of housework. I think largely I read as a compulsion to get out of my reality. I'm sure my reality wasn't all that bad (I've seen worse), but the alternate dimensions that lay within a book cover are inexplicably intoxicating. Or so I've always thought. I mean, how crazy to not like to read! Thus, it was only natural that I read to my baby.

We were very poor when he was born and my baby shower had been a sort of a bust, so I went to the discount store and found a couple cheapy baby books.  The first book I got my son was a plastic pillow-like "bath" book in bright primary colors, with one animal and its name on each page, with a squeaker in the page that read "pig." And so began teaching the eldest to read. Soon after I sent in one of those mail-in cards to get the Dr. Seuss books (the first 6 for only $1 plus shipping!) and answered the door to a salesman from whom I bought a Bible storybook. All this, and I introduced this baby to The Library [that magical bastion of socialism that allows for a free democratic society through equal access to literacy, but that's a topic for another post].

His first word was book [pronounced /buh/] and at 7 months of age, he crawled across the room to me, dragging a tome whose spine was longer than his, and he said, "wee buh meh."  At a year, he'd ask for "a takkabuh peeeese" which meant, "please set me up on the couch with a neat pile of Dr. Seuss on my left." And he would make sure the pile was neat, then pick up the top book. He'd leaf through the pages from beginning to end, staring at the delightful letters before placing the book to his right, always making sure the corners lined up. [There will be a post about discovering OCD in your child later.]

This child was pointing out letter sounds to me by 18 months and wrote the word "Target" upside down and backwards at age 2 (this of course being how he read it on the shopping cart handle). At 3 he asked me continuously "what's that say?" and at 4 I pulled out "How to Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons."  We got to lesson 18 before I realized he already knew how to read. It was around that time I found the boy standing on a "takka" chairs and stools reaching precariously for the knives that I'd hidden on top of the refrigerator.

Seven Kids Mornings

Septuplets are probably very difficult. I imagine absolute chaos. Exhaustion. I never, ever, had romantic notions that multiples would be fun. But at least they'd all get going at the the same time. Right? Seven kids and a boarder, ranging in age from college to preschool, are all over the place. You see, I have five boys going to 4 different schools each with their own start time- 7:20, 8:30, and 9. And my man- you never know what he's doing on any given day or if he's traveling, so I've got him weaving in and out of my mornings, too.

A 6:30 alarm tells me to make my first lap around the house. Sometimes I manage to hit the floor right off, but I'll snooze if my man is home and can beat me to the thermostat to bump it to 63 from its overnight setting which is too cool to admit in print. My niner is always already up. And dressed. I like to have a good 15-20 minutes alone in the kitchen with my boy. It's a good time to check in with him before he leaves for the day. By 7 a.m. he is out the door for his 3 block walk to school. I kiss him at the door and watch him walk down the sidewalk as far as I can see him.

I make another lap, back up the front stairs and around to the back stairs to the kitchen, to see that the teens are up. I make my big boys' to-go cups of hot chocolate and something they can take in the hand for breakfast as they run out the door: the next two must be out of the house by 7:33 a.m. to catch their bus. Once they are out I assemble some high calorie breakfast and snacks for my athlete. He's out the door by 8 a.m. to catch his bus. These teens don't loiter in the kitchen with me often, so I can usually read my Scriptures and pray, and have a meeting with Jeff as we check the calendar and ToDo list. I glance at the menu listed on the wall and start thawing meat or cooking dried beans or making bread dough during this morning hour.

By 8:02 a.m. then, I am enjoying a quiet moment in the kitchen with my two littlest girlies- the only time of the day I really have them alone, thanks to their older sister's sleeping late. I make them glasses of milk, plates of fruit, pop tarts and/or oatmeal, and we talk. Silly little girl things, serious little girl things. Precious little girl things. Our boarding student comes into the kitchen around 8:30, fixes himself a cuppa and some toast spread with Laughing Cow. The girls brighten his morning with their smiles and chatter, and we all say goodbye to him for the day as he slips out the door at 8:43. The big sister finally wakes up and comes down some time around here, and fixes herself breakfast.  We chat about the day's plans.

Now I can make sure the doors are all locked, kiss my girlies and head back upstairs. I'll do my workout video, shower, dress, put on my face, and  really start my day. It's probably 9:30 by now, I've been up three hours, and it's time to really get to work~

So that's what mornings are like around here.  How 'bout at your place?