I can't stop thinking about the following story so I'm blogging about it. It has been in my head the past week. Daily. Not a significant happening. Just a moment in my head I have never forgotten. Life's little moments teach us a lot if we are willing to be taught and open to it. So as a regular practice I entertain the insignificant because it usually becomes significant at some point. This sounds so ethereal but we are all connected by experiences. Now let me grab the pink plastic guitar upstairs and start some kumbaya...
So I had just finished up my student teaching for ESL (not Spanish as my dad told everyone back in the day, as much as it seemed like I taught Spanish sometimes. Full immersion dad. Full immersion English.) Ok then. It was late spring and hot. Everyone was winding down the school year as impatient as this time of year is. Ask a teacher. Well, we had just gotten a new student. He was straight from Mexico and from a community that spoke a dialect of Spanish. Think Indian Spanish. (Phonetically fantastic and this stuff dredges up the phonetics nerd in me.) I tried talking to him but he just stared like, crazy lady, I am not tracking. The teacher and I weren't sure what to do. Our ESL materials hadn't been packed away, but there was a sadness about him. His regular classroom teacher was like, it's testing time, he doesn't speak English, what do I do, please take him, I am stressed, etc. This kid needed to play. So there were some bubbles from an end of the year party and we thought he'd like them.
Now this sweet one had come straight from Mexico. No telling what he saw or experienced on his journey. They came, enrolled him in school, and this kid was dressed like it was mid-winter. He had on long sleeves and long pants. He was hot. Well I showed him how to use the bubbles. Take the wand out, blow, don't tip the container, etc. As soon as that first bubble went into the air, he started smiling. First time I'd seen him react. Then he started chasing them around laughing. Losing himself in the fun. I had to go back inside to finish up and left him in the courtyard with the bubbles. But I could see him through the window. He was face up to the sun, smiling, sweat pouring down his sweet face, feeling the bubbles touch his face, then laughing. Blowing bubbles, chasing them around and throwing his head back in laughter.
My kids love bubbles too. Actually who doesn't? Except the ones who don't like to get dirty or have personal space issues. People with personal space issues think even bubbles are offensive. I know. I don't judge. But this story brings up a couple of touch points. First of all- in my current life, my kids will never know the absence of toys. We have bubbles galore. We have a lazy American bubble machine that blows bubbles for them and their street friends. (Street friends is used loosely here. Friends that happen to play in the street with them. And we watch them and for cars. FYI) I can't change the fact that we are blessed in the sense of taking away my parenting their needs (food, clothing, shelter, love), and providing some wants here and there (I love giving gifts to them!!! My husband is worse so I usually put him on a budget. He's Buddy the Elf at Christmas and sometimes there is no stopping him though. He is not allowed to go to Costco, which happens to be the only store he shop at, alone at Christmas.)
But do you know what I watch for in my parenting? When my kids loose their delight in the bubbles. When they stop dancing with them around them. When they stop losing themselves while they play. What does this look like with my kids? It looks like a longing look at a friends toys like they wish they had something, a desire for something more that is unnecessary or definitely not something we need. When they say things like, "Mom, I want (fill in the blank here for a long list of things for birthdays, Christmas, Easter, and stupid holidays that get too much attention and commercialism like Saint Patrick's day, etc.)..." That's when we need to take a step back and reflect on our blessings. And our Blesser. I am careful not to throw up starving children in other countries. (As in, clean your plate because there are starving children.) For example, when our neighbors moved recently and my kids said maybe we needed a bigger house I said, "No. Our house is wonderful. Look at our floor. It's carpet. And although it's dirty it's not dirt floors. We are blessed. We are richly blessed." Yeah. That's not always the greatest heart approach. But I was fed the heck up at them thinking we needed something because someone else was getting something we personally don't need.
And about starving children in other countries? Our church has a ministry to the heart of Durham, surrounding communities, and other countries. People on the ground helping. It's turned outward, not inward. I am thankful it's ministries aren't just to the rich ones who might need to buck up and turn out. It's like, hey. We love Jesus. We love those that need help. We'd love it if you joined us in helping them too. Let's do this. (My words, surely this is in print somewhere stated more eloquently.) And maybe one of the big ministries is to the ones who are financially blessed and need turning? Hmm...
And thankfully we are around lots of people adopting some sweet children from all over and I have to watch myself not to take them home with me. Seriously. My kids are seeing first hand the beauty of adoption and God's provision and little by little first hand experiences and gentle and consistent teaching has directed their hearts towards seeing God, not stuff. A person's heart, not skin color. What God is doing in the nations around us. And through us. We have sponsored a Compassion child and taking developmentally appropriate first steps into difficult subjects of what little girls go through in other countries, and in our own country, sadly. It is vile stuff but my kids need to (interject developmentally appropriately) see the dirt of sin and what God can do to transform. God is still working on us. He is still gently working on us. Teaching us. Loving us. Convicting us. Opening us up to what we can do with what he provides.
We are blessed. The next question I ask myself is...why am I blessed? Am I blessed to just hoard and enjoy or perhaps God has a bigger picture. Perhaps God wants my heart posture to be with open hands. Perhaps he positioned us to receive and turn and give.
They follow the leader, and while they're in our house that's me and my husband. Perhaps a more important question is turned on myself. Am I dancing with bubbles?
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