I don’t intend for everything I write here to be about my kids or even about family – although my family alone could supply enough material to keep me writing indefinitely. If you have a family you may know what I’m talking about.
Today, though, I have to brag a little about my kids. It can be dreary suffering through someone’s constant yacking about how sweet/smart/talented/et cetera little so-and-so is, but since no one reads this I imagine it will be okay for me to do so today.
My kids are pretty good about including others in their wish lists to Santa. One from BL this year, for instance, described a type of doll she wanted (”little dolls that have switches so when you turn them on they know what your saying and stuff”) and she adds parenthetically, “get me one for my sister too”. At the end of her list is “a Target gift card for mom and dad.”
This sort of thing isn’t uncommon with my kids – well, with the girls anyway – and I’m sure many other parents have seen the same thoughtfulness expressed by their children. In the range of emotion from “I think we’re doing okay as parents.” to “Are we doing anything right?”, it gives you one of those moments of feeling you’ve done something right. Or at least not done things completely wrong.
This year, though, SL and BL added a nice little touch. After putting the kids to bed on Christmas Eve I was making the rounds to make sure doors were locked, alarm was on, and things were generally ready for The Big Day. Next to Santa’s milk and cookies was the usual note. (My kids leave notes for Santa and for the Tooth Fairy and for the Easter Bunny and for anyone else they might expect to visit in the middle of the night – and the notes include questions to which they would like to have answers – and Heaven forbid if a Tooth Fairy says something that contradicts what a previous Tooth Fairy had said – all another story for another time.)
But on this Christmas Eve I noticed – on the floor beneath the table on which sat the milk and the cookies and the note and perhaps a carrot for Rudolph – a carefully wrapped gift and a stuffed Snoopy. The note from SL revealed their purpose. Inside the usual list of questions (”What does Ho Ho Ho mean?”) was the more serious “Do you visit poor people? Can you give this to a child in need?” She had wrapped a gift to be given to someone else on Christmas; BL, I learned later, agreed it was an excellent idea and added the Snoopy.
As a parent, like someone making their way through a thick fog, you strain your eyes for some occasional clue that you haven’t completely veered off course. This was one of those rare times when I felt not entirely lost and disoriented. I can’t say that I’m doing things right, though; I’d rather say that so far I’ve managed not to drive away their innate inclination to participate in our call to share God’s grace and mercy with (by participating in the act of giving grace and mercy to) all of His children – who are our brothers and sisters in a much more real way than perhaps we sometimes remember. May they continue to respond to this, and may I continue to not interfere with their natural desire to do so.
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