The Santa Card

It may not just be the commercialization of Christmas that keeps Santa alive. Just maybe, it's parents all over the world who realize that the threat of no toys on Christmas is an extremely effective behavior modification tool.

Just recently my husband played the Santa Card. My son is only four, and so previous to this, we had talked about Santa, but never in any serious way, he was just a fun character in the overall joyfulness of Christmas. But this time he is fully aware. As his dad explained that Santa would be watching and seeing if he's a good boy, I could see him take it all in. I didn't realize the power of it, until my usually rambunctious boy, without a word, calmly sat down at the table and ate his dinner like a little gentleman. I was beyond astonished. So, I wasn't sure about this at first...it seems like the easy way out. I have to admit though, the magic of it got me a couple of times, and I have since used it on a few occasions. I don't want to overdo it though, what if the magic runs out?! I have to milk this while I can!

And yet, I feel a little guilty. Am I setting him up for disappointment down the road?
That's another reason not to overdo it, I don't want it to be just a negative thing, the card that I pull out as a threat, I want to be able to emphasize the positive spirit of giving. I have always wanted to, when the kids are old enough, start a yearly tradition of having them donate some of their toys or clothes, or helping out with a food drive. Maybe this is the year.

Santa is watching...

A moth in a box OR A four year old contemplates the afterlife

There is a dead moth, curled up inside an origami box, on top of my kitchen counter.

I had been cleaning in the living room, and was making my way to the bedroom when Miles came running in and said, "mama, someone killed a moth!"

My first thought, "did you kill a moth?"

Miles: "no! someone else did it! come see!"

really?

I had my eye on the clock, it was almost time to start the bedtime routine.

sigh...alright.

as I followed him out to the living room he came to the place where there was indeed a small dead moth on the floor. He bent down beside it and gingerly scooped it up, cupping it in his tiny hand.

"see?" he said, holding it out to me.

"yeah, I see" I said with fake enthusiasm. "Okay, lets throw it away..."

But Miles would not have it, "no! he's my friend!", he says.

Uh Oh. I see where this is going now.

I turned to my only frame of reference when it comes to kids and talking about death: the episode of The Cosby Show where Rudy's goldfish, Mr. Fish, dies. Thanks Cosby Show, I know just what to do!

So I started fashioning the origami box (thank goodness our craft box is always well stocked), and I suggested we have a funeral.

"what's that?" He asked.

"when someone dies you have a funeral to say good bye to them, and their body goes in a box so they can rest." I explained, quite proud of my fast thinking.

Miles replied, "but I don't want him to be died! I want him to be alive! make him alive again!"

This is when he really started to get distressed. It was then I realized I was going to need more than the Cosby Show. I was out of my depth. Not knowing what else to say, I started explaining how we have a body, but we also have a spirit, and that our body dies and goes away (into the cemetery...we drive by one on the way to school so we have in theory broached this topic, but I could see him putting the pieces together probably for the first time) but your spirit stays and goes to heaven with God.

Then he started talking about the moth's friends and how much they would miss him. After each statement, he had another burst of tears.

I said, "yes, they will miss him, but they can talk to him anytime, just like you talk to God."

Miles is not amused, "but how does the moth go in my heart?"

So at that point I am pulling out all the big guns, wondering if this is too much for a four year old...but i'm already knee-deep, and he is asking the questions, so what am I supposed to do??

"Well, when you think about them and remember how much you love them, then you are talking to them in your heart."

Hey, good one mom!

But instead of calming him down he seemed to be even more upset. I finally convinced him to put the moth in the box and leave him with "his friends" while we got ready for bed.

We started to get our pajamas on and I wiped my brow, thinking we would read stories and not think about the moth anymore. but he starts to get even more upset, and is now choking back tears, "but...but....but..." Finally, as he fought through the tears he said, "but...if my body died....and...I go to heaven, and I'm with God....then I'll miss you so much!"

And I'm done.

The three of us (because my one year old is a little copy cat) collapse on the bed into one big crying bundle.

After a few minutes of crying, assuring him over and over that I wouldn't let anything happen to him, that we would be together for a long time, the tears turned into giggles, and Miles was bouncing on the bed as if nothing happened.

He'll most likely forget this moment (especially after I throw away that moth!). But I won't. I'll keep it in my heart, just like God, the people I love, and the moth.

Outside the Lines

     
"Believe nothing, no matter where you read it, or who said it, no matter if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense.”- Buddha

you don't have to be a religious person to worry about passing on morals and values to your kids. But I think for religious people there is an even greater pressure to instill not just a moral compass, but the specific religious framework and practices that help to guide it. This is something I think about a lot as a parent, even though my children are quite young. As a parent, you have your own experience with what you believe is true, your own deep passion and relationship with your faith or lack there of. But those things do not automatically translate to the next generation.

How do I pass on these things to my children? And what exactly do I want them to inherit?

In pondering these things I have to think about what I inherited from my own parents, and how those things contributed to my life of faith. Upon reflection, I'm starting to believe that maybe it's not any particular ideology or system that is itself faulty or divine, but it's about how we as humans put it into practice.

In the early days of our movement, members, like my parents, were told to give up everything, to leave their families and homes to do God's work. They sacrificed their college educations, jobs, and relationships with their families to take up a cause that they believed in. While there were many who powered through and came out better for the experience, many were also hurt.

I always hear people talk about how a leader "forced" them to do something or "I wasn't allowed to". While I sympathize with people and certainly acknowledge that wrongs have been committed, I could never quite buy into especially the brainwashing claim, because at a time when my mother was told she couldn't go home for Christmas, even when her father was in the hospital, she went anyway. When she was fundraising and realized that she was "spiritually dead" and did not want to fundraise anymore, she stopped. She left. and yet, she was never excommunicated, and she never turned her back on her faith. She did not walk out with bitterness and resentment. She simply continued to follow her own inner wisdom, and she fought for her own spiritual life. To me, this is what true ownership of faith is all about.

My mother's decision to declare, "my children are my mission now" when she became a mother, was part of what helped me to make the decision to stay at home with my own children. I remember even as a young child being very grateful to her for that. I understood that she was putting her family and children first, ME first, and the love and dedication I felt from that, translated into my experience of God's love. It's why I believe in a God who wants me to be happy and Joyful, who is not just some absent being up in the sky, but a parent.

I know for me, the things that touch me about my own parents' faith, are not how many rallies they attended, or how much money they made fundraising. It's the stories of their personal experiences with God, of working through struggles, and finding Joy and truth. It's watching my father get choked up by a bible verse, or my mother lost in prayer.

What I hope to find is a balance between communicating what I believe to be true, my own faith and experience, while also being sensitive to the uniqueness and individuality of my child. As a parent, if I really believe in my faith, then of course I want to teach it to my children, because if I didn't think it was right I wouldn't be following it. But as a believer, I must also be humble enough to know that I may not always know what is best, and that I can guide and support and nurture, but in the end, there must be an ownership of faith by the child. At a certain point, it is up to them, and I must put my faith in God that he is leading them when I cannot see the path.

I grew up in a religion that claimed "not to be a religion" but a movement. It wanted to be beyond religion (perhaps all religions start out this way), in order to unite all peoples of faith, and yet, it has become comfortably situated as it's own little "Christianity knock-off," lost in rituals and politics, in an endless series of "duty" and "faith without works", the very failures we have criticized modern Christianity for.

The thing that resonates with me about my faith, is the inclusiveness, the unity, the fact that I can read an Islamic text or do a Buddhist mediation and feel God in all of those things. To know that I am not limited by man made boundaries.

I had a good experience overall growing up in the movement, probably 70-30, maybe even 80-20. But many people did not, many people my own age have heartbreaking stories and are still dealing with very real pain.

Everyone will have their own interpretations of what it means to be a "true" Christian, a "true" Unificationist, a "good" person. What I think it comes down to in the end is responsibility. There is no ownership in simply following along with the majority because that is what is expected. If "faith without works" is dead, then "works without faith" is an undead zombie like existence of conformity. Real ownership of faith means evaluating everything, even if it goes against the acceptable or majority opinion.

It is a balance for sure. I must be self aware enough to know that I am resisting something out of fear, pride, ego, or emotion, rather than prayerful contemplation, and self study.

America, we are a land of revolutionaries. We do not do obedience well. But if we are loyal to anything, it's to that very freedom for every man to forge his own path. As religious people, we have forgotten to trust God with our children, thinking that we needed to pound religion into their heads. When all he is really asking for is a chance to speak to them directly.

What I've learned in my life of faith is that no matter what, it is about me and God. Everything else is just secondary, and frankly, no one else's business. If I worry about judgement from others, then I am a part of judgement as well.

So how will I raise my children?

Honestly, I don't care if my kids wake up and do HDH, I don't care if they go to all of the workshops and weekly bible study. I don't even care if they decide to marry someone of a different faith. What I want for my children, is a real relationship with God, for them to know their identity and value as his beautiful son. I want them to be wrapped in love by the presence of God through their family and community. I want them to develop compassion and empathy, to be peace makers, and servants, the kinds of people who make a difference in the world for the better. Maybe sunday school and workshops can do that, but if not, I'm okay with that.

None of this is a prescription, it's just my own thoughts, and I even reserve the right to change my mind. But I am grateful for the things that growing up in this movement has brought me, even the bad, because it made me into the person I am today. More than anything though, I deeply cherish the particular brand of religion that my parents gave to me. For better or worse, I'll always color just a little outside the lines. And isn't that what all the great artists do after all?

We're going to be okay

I haven't posted anything for almost two weeks! This is the longest i've gone without updating. I could blame it on the storm, we still don't have internet due to Hurricane Sandy, I'm writing and posting this from my iphone, which has it's own challenges.

I've never seen an aftermath quite like this before. A huge branch from the neighbors tree just missed our car. We were also extremely lucky to have never lost power as 80% of my town did. There are cops outside directing traffic for cars waiting to get gas and people lined up around the block with their gas cans.

A friend of mine was just driving and tried to make a right turn, she had to go through the line of cars waiting to get into the gas station (that stretches probably four blocks and blocks off all the side streets). People started knocking on her wind shield saying that she was "going to get killed" because they thought she was trying to cut the line.

But I've also been uplifted by my Facebook feed, which has been filled with posts of people cooking hot meals and sending them to senior centers who are without power, a collective group of people all sharing which stores are open in the community, where you can charge your phone, and get free wifi. I myself have been inviting people over who haven't been as lucky for hot meals, coffee, and showers (we still have plenty of everything, come on over! I even have bags of ice in the freezer and water that we didn't have to use if anyone needs it...also batteries galore!)

The environment is this weird mix of desperation and panic, coupled with the strength and generosity of the human spirit. I like to think that the later will win out in the end. I am truly grateful to have a warm house, plenty of food, and running water. All of my family and friends are safe.

My husband couldn't go into work for three days while NYC transportation was shut down. Having him home, all snug and cozy together in our little apartment, made me feel that I had everything I needed.

Let's all remember what matters, and if you can, try and reach out to others who might need some assistance. Your local fire station or ambulance corps is a good place to start. Calling a neighbor to see if they need help is great too.

Stay safe everyone, we've still got some cleanup to do. These things happen, but we're going to be okay.