Best (low-cheese) Advent Books For Kids

I confess to owning a few cheesy religious books -- you know, the ones that use short sentences packed with oversimplifications that aren't even childlike, as well as jargon that adults barely understand -- all of which make the story sound like a basic, almost pithy catechism to be memorized.

My son, bless him, has unfortunately become a big fan of Patricia A. Pingry's The Christmas Story, which in my humble opinion fits in the above-described category. I like to think my son has good taste, (what mother lacks this bias?) In order to maintain this belief, I am concluding he likes The Christmas Story on account of the rather lovely pictures of Mary and Joseph. My little boy likes to call the Holy Couple by name, pointing at them over and over, with shrieking delight. Gabe especially has a thing for Mary. He has, I fear, a crush on the mother of God.

Mary! That's Mary" exclaims almost two-year-old Gabriel, like he's in love, caught up in a sparkling epiphany of his own.

Like I said, the boy's got good taste.

Mary worship aside, I would like to introduce my kids to some better kids literature filled with the longing, truth and beauty of advent, with its crowning moment, the birth of God with us.

Here are my current favorites, all of which can be located on Amazon.

1. The Three Wise Women by Mary Hoffman, pictures by Lynne Russell

2. The Legend of St. Nicholas: A Story of Christmas Giving by Dandi Daley Mackall, Illustrated by Buy Porfirio

3. The Little Shepherd Girl, by Juliann Henry, Illustrated by Jim Madsen

All these stories offer a unique perspective on their topic that brings alive the essential traditions we cherish, while expanding our eye's horizon and our hearts understanding in a way that is deep, yet childlike, although more applicable to kids four and up. The "up" includes people my age, and I'd bet my boots, well beyond.

Enjoy!

The God's In My Snots:

i tunes was playing the Hamster Dance song, and my husband and our kids were goofy-dancing around, swinging, swirling, hippity-hopping, and after a while, Nika, our five-year-old hunkered down on the couch and assumed a rather peaceful, introspective posture. I asked Nika if she was tired.

Nika: No, it's just nice to lie down and have my own thoughts.

Me: Will you share your thoughts with me someday?

Nika: I'll share one of them with you right now.

Me: Tell me.

Nika: God...is everywhere. Which means God is inside my nose where the snifflies are. God's even in my SNOT! And in my bones.

Yes, God is everywhere.

Control Presence Peace

Control: what we want and can't have. The source of misery when we try to have it anyway. The cause of war when we try to have it over other people.

Presence: being there to be or do as the Spirit leads, to work with God to create beauty from what IS, because God is the Great I AM, and not the God of Shoulda Woulda Coulda.

Peace: it's not what you think. At least it's not what I think. More often it's the tranquility after the storm, or centering in love, smack in the midst of chaos, needs, hurricanes of conflicting demands, giving your all, allowing all your feelings, yet abiding in the Vine of Acceptance, the Arms that Love and Burn until we collapse in gentle, beautiful surrender.

Weekend and the Art of Being

Weekend. A time away from the work week, school week, living by someone else's agenda. A period of homebody-ness or adventure. A time of family being together, learning laughing, lying in the living room, tossing the breeze a frizbee. A time to open a new book. Breathe a few paces back from the crowd and survey life, enjoying and perhaps fine-tuning ways of being and doing so that family members and the world can flow with a flexible, effervescent step through the obstacle course created by the goals and challenges embedded in daily life.

Cleaning up. Running Errands. Taking out the trash. So many things to do that get in the way of rest and happiness. Or do they?

What if taking out the trash could be a hardy, alive experience of fingers tying the white bag, of using God's energy to lift the bag and carry it, without hurry, outside, a slight thrill, hurling the bag into its place in the dumpster. Fresh air in my nostrils and skimming breeze over my bare arm. Walking purposely, breathing gratitude back toward inside, taking in the trees, the sounds outdoors, everything living and still, the little movements of a squirrel, all of it wondrous!

Quit Quitting, Start Living

I quit seminary. I quit on the grounds that it take too great a stress toll on me and my children and that the loving, self-emptying thing to do is to let it go and be with my kids without the distraction of hanging deadlines or the exhaustion of commuting and thinking layered on motherhood. 'Cause I was pressuring myself to finish my program before we move somewhere else for David's residency. On account of my overriding anxiety and the tape recording that kept saying, "I can't do this." "I'm going to snap."

I quit because I was trying to love my kids selflessly. Because everyone says I can recreate myself later. Because I'm not sure where this road is leading me. Because I was having trouble justifying the time, money, gas and intangibles in a world where kids are starving, the ozone is leaking away and my own babies will soon be big and never again will be little pudgy peach skin rolling in innocence, smiles, fussiness, love, messes and open curiosity.

And when I quit, my heart sank like a sopping wet sand big pitched into an abyss of loneliness and aimlessness. I felt my happy energy sap away and instead of feeling free, lighter, actively engaged with giving my best love to the people in the world I love best, I felt achingly absent and sad.

So I activated the only common sense decision I could: I quit my quitting and put myself back on the road to seminary, now because I am happy to be learning, clear that I am supposed to be on this path, and open to a new way of being that is balanced, learning when it's time to learning and learning when it's time to Be. Laugh. Listen. Engage with life, nourish my family, celebrate the lusciousness of fruit and chocolate, peachy skin and parent in firm, agape ways that acknowledge and nurture the spirits shining through my children in surprising and tricky ways. Love life. Let go of pleasing anyone. Love everyone.

Will I pass my classes with this approach? Will I finish seminary or ever have initials before or after my name? Who cares! I live for the abundant life of the God who lives in me.

What is love?

How do you know if you love someone?

Here's love according to me:

Love: 1. when you could hurt someone and choose to value them instead 2. when someone you love can't meet your needs and you love them without expectation, while also loving yourself 3. when you love someone just because of the mere fact that they're here, beautiful for who they are, priceless treasures in jars of clay 4. when you love them, you feel love toward yourself, life, the Being and all beings. When you love, you are alive.

The Great Physician's Rule

Physician's rule: first, do no harm.
The Great Physician's rule: Love everyone.
Religion's rule?

Hmmmm....

If God is Love, love seeks the wellbeing of another, never disregarding the interests of another for one's own gain. Ones own agenda. Or even one's own religion. Love is the positive phrasing of medicine's rule, First Do No Harm.

If we follow the Great Physician we will seek wellbeing, love, healing and life abundant for everyone on earth. The wellbeing of another person will be more important than his or her religion, sexual orientation, worldview or personal decisions and beliefs.

We are healer's in in the world, healer's in Christ's name. And the first rule of healing is do no harm. In another words, love everyone.

Black and Light

An odd thing to say from a postmodern is coming:

The way things unfold goes according to whether we choose black or white. Black, I have heard, is all the colors mixed together in a solid; rich, textured and deep, absorbing light and heat into darkness. All the colors are there, but you can no longer see them. White pigment simply is the absence of color, which could lead a person prone to drama to discount white as boring, utterly pointless. I am not talking about white pigment. I am taking about white light, which is the cradle and proud mother of all colors. She holds them gentle and lets them shine. And you can see this at the exact point where heaven's tears and light touch, awaking the Good, like a flower blossoming exquisitely on account of the shit in which its roots derive nutrients for a beautiful life.

To be Known is to be Loved

To Be Loved is to be Known

Instinct and Intuition

Some experts (and non-experts) say "follow your intuition." Then other folks assert that the key to abundant life is live counter-intuitively, in an upside-down kingdom sort of way. It hit me the other day that the apparent contradiction is simply a language issue.

At least for me and my personal experience, there's instinct, and then there's intuition. Sometimes the two agree, other times not, but they are separate functions, each with its own purpose. Instinct is concerned with survival at all costs; intuition is concerned with living in harmony with oneself and God, navigating the realm of life and relationships with truth and grace. Intuition ultimately transcending both intellect and instinct.

Instinct might tell you to have sex with anyone flaunting great jeans (and genes,) but intuition will tell you more about a person's character than the information of the eyes or pure reason or plain instinct. Intuition tells the truth, serves love and understands the big picture without always articulating the individual pieces. We know, but we don't know how we know.

Instinct might tell you to run from a difficult person or challenge; intuition may tell you to listen closely for the gift or lesson God's Universe is offering.

Instinct may tell you to defend yourself in an argument; intuition may tell you the safest place for you and the other beloved being is humility and compassion in the face of an attack.

Because instinct guards the physical body and the ego, but intuition guides the soul.

I've been seeing this dynamic in my parenting lately. My daughter does something irksome and unattractive and my instinct is repulsion, anger, disappointment; My intuition is learning to read deeper... to grasp the tenuous, beautiful space where teaching and love are the tools of good discipline, where the child is understood and admired in her search for autonomy, her gutsy testing of a parent's love, her strong, beautiful spirit, and the sweetness that lies tucked between her spunky need to assert herself and her intense fear of losing my love to an apple-faced baby sibling or two.

Life is an adventure, and adventures are not boring or easy or simple. Adventures involve challenges, heroism, ingenuity. Adventures call people out to become Someone beyond Joe or Jill; someone who is the heroin inside each of us, with all our vulnerabilities and quirks. Adventure brings the opportunity for quirky grace.

And so far, parenting is by far, my most exciting, unknown, terrifying, impossible, impossibly amazing and not-simple or easy but deeply wonderful, beauteous adventure of my life. Day by day my choices matter; I can be the villain or the heroin and sometimes both within five minutes. And everyday I learn that self-discipline is really the excersize of intuition challenging instinct, guided by Love.

Birth Preparation: A Poem

Anticipation

The Birth Kit's arrived
We've collected most items we'll need for her arrival
I've spent hundreds of dollars on picture frames and rearranged my decorations in a flurry of nesting
I've even dusted my dresser
Tomorrow her crib arrives
And Nika reads the birth book, ooing and awwing over the picture where the baby's head is peeking out of the naked Mama
Gabriel plays peekaboo with my belly
And David puts together a bookshelf for me, high enough to keep postpartum snacks out of toddler's reach
I've gone to prenatal yoga and therapy
Said my prayers
Opened a little more to
Space
Time
God

I brought some childhood pictures down from the attic and let them join my family
I practice breathing
Occasionally I remember to do kegals
And now I wait
Anticipation enjoyable, mostly
Eager to meet her, hold her close and whisper I love you
Dreading the soreness and fatigue, the days and needs blending
Enchanted, in-love, longing to know her;
A friendship that will cost me, transform me, draw me closer to God
To myself

My children my gift, my price, my spiritual fire
Burning away what's false or not useful
Purifying my heart
Lighting my life
Giving light to my spirit

I surrender my expectations, at least in theory
And loving her, I wait for her to come
Shatter everything
Til the Great Letting Go
Anticipating
Love
Participating Love
I give
I am
She is
God IS
Love

I wait
In
Anticipation