the most daunting ministry

In many ways, I had a very sheltered childhood. I was only allowed to watch black and white "Nick at Nite" reruns and nature documentaries. I got in trouble when I was caught listening - at age 13 - to a song more contemporary than Neil Diamond (Wilson Phillips' "Hold On").  I was only allowed to go over to play at the homes of nice little girls from nice families. My parents had to know the little girl's parents. They always knew who would be at home with us and what we'd be doing. But I was about 7 when I saw "adult" magazines for the first time and only 11 when I was first exposed to an "adult" movie. At the tender age of 13, I was shocked by the pages of a graphically illustrated Joy of Sex manual and had filthy passages from an "adult" novel read to me. All in the homes of nice little girls from nice families. All different nice families- families of church leaders, scout leaders, ministers -all the kinds of parents that other parents trust.

These experiences were devastating. In particular I recall a sleepover party in 6th grade: the birthday girl turned on the TV and we were all absolutely stunned by the X-rated movie playing on the screen. Some of the little girls began laughing. All were mesmerized. I was the only one who turned away. I began trying to brush another little girl's hair to distract myself but I couldn't block out the horrible audio. I remember how much my hands were shaking and the feeling of fear and shame. I went to the bathroom and ran the water for a long time but it couldn't block out the sound or the dirty feeling in the pit of my stomach. It didn't wash away the images burnt into my memory. The girl's mother suddenly came downstairs to check on us and she screamed. She screamed at her daughter to turn off the TV and then we heard her run upstairs and scream at her husband. He was watching the movie upstairs and had somehow streamed it accidentally down to us. We all waited downstairs, expecting to get in trouble. We didn't. The mother didn't tell our parents and neither did any of us.

These experiences all left similar aftertastes of shame and filth, though all were foisted upon me unsought. These were horrible, horrible experiences that seared through the precious innocence of a very sensitive child. Short of locking me in a box until I was 25, there was literally nothing more my parents could have done to try to protect me from these dark elements of our culture - but I nonetheless try to think what I can do to shelter my little ones from similar experiences. Maria is less than three years younger than I was when it all began. The Box-Until-25 Plan is looking better and better.

This week she was invited - for the first time in New Zealand - to play at a friend's house. The invitation came from the little girl at preschool Maria has most desperately wanted to befriend - a little girl who has kept Maria at arm's length for eighteen months (no small feat, might I add). The child's mother offered to pick the two little girls up after school and have them play for an hour at her house. I'm positive she intended to be kind and helpful, but... Over my dead body. I mean, Maria is four. Even when she used to play at her friends' houses back in the States, I was there too, and those were the houses of my closest friends. I have to work hard to remember this mother's first name when I see her at preschool. I've never met her partner. I try to give them the benefit of the doubt that they don't have stacks of Playboy magazine laying carelessly around their home, but how on earth would I know? You can't exactly ask people about that. I can't really casually say, "You know... Maria isn't allowed to have a Barbie - or watch any TV or movies - and the filthiest word she knows is bum-bum-poo - and in our house we don't really read too many pornographic magazines, so I'd kind of rather she wasn't exposed to any of those things this afternoon....."  Plus how on earth would I know if any of those rules were broken?

I decided to just frankly admit to the other mother that Maria had never gone to anyone's house without me. She wasn't in the least offended and said she had the same rule with her daughter. So instead of fretting about the potential bad influences Maria might receive, I instead got to go and watch her give bad influence for an hour this afternoon. She was rude to her friend's mother and baby sister, ungraciously threw the unappealing parts of her snack off her plate and onto the floor, whined loudly about the "yucky" taste in their apples, demanded another helping of marshmallows, invented annoying potty words and was disobedient and bratty to me when it was time to leave. If I was the other child's mother, I would never invite her back. I might even transfer my daughter to another school. Or emigrate. I was completely mortified. And yet, I hope she does get invited again. I realize that Maria needs practice and instruction and coaching in how to behave graciously in someone else's house. Lots of it. She did things today that she would never do at home. Christine, brimming over with birthday wisdom, had the insight to suggest that Maria is a bit insecure in social settings and goes wild with "nervous energy".  Man, does that sound better than the words I used in describing it all to Richard.

By far, the most difficult ministry in New Zealand has been my ministry to Maria. For some reason I keep thinking that she'll turn the corner once we get back to Pennsylvania. I guess I feel like I'll have more control over every part of my life once we're back home, including the part of my life labelled Maria. I don't know who I'm kidding - I had very little control over Maria when we last lived in the USA. She was the kind of child who got a head start on her "terrible twos" at eighteen months old:  tantruming daily - kicking against doors while screaming all the worst words she knew in one hysterical raving screech: "Stop it Stupid Dang it POOOOOOOOP!" Some kids are verbally precocious. Others are more intensely physical. Maria is both. So I'm always wondering if the nuns ever found out how do you solve a problem like Maria? They sort of just married theirs off - but for us, finding a steadying Captain won't be a real option for so many years.

Last week I was invited to give a presentation to 35 school principals. (Topic: the value of having students involved in a youth ministry program.) It was my first time in a truly professional setting in four and half years. I wore Banana Republic, I ironed everything, I tidied my hair and used a touch of perfume. I don't do any of those things anymore. I wear hole-speckled t-shirts and my jeans are two sizes too big. The girls hide my hairbrush for days at a time. Rather than keep track of a back-up, I just have a body wave.  I've not been in a board room environment, speaking in collected, confident tones to colleagues since Maria's birth - until last week. And it was awesome. Seriously. It felt amazing. I literally was a different person for 60 minutes - like Cinderella in a twinset. I felt competent and sane. I felt intelligent and experienced. It only lasted an hour and then I was back in the chaos and the noise and the mess and the POOOOP. I know the beautiful thing to write would be to say that I realized that being with my children was far more enjoyable than the self-satisfied highs of the morning, but that would be a lie. Or a Nicholas Cage movie. For the first time in my short season of motherhood, I felt tempted to ditch the home scene - at least part time. So I've had to clarify my understanding of motherhood for the umpteenth time (is it for me or is it for them?) and embrace it again as ministry -  a ministry in which I will not always (nor often) feel competent or sane or tidy. I am certain that it is the ministry to which the Lord is calling me to give my whole self for this short season of my life. But He gave me the freedom to choose again. I looked longingly at the neat and peaceful grown-up world. But I chose the chaos. Freely.

I'm passionate about youth ministry. I feel really good at it. I'm far, far more invested in motherhood - even though I'm not nearly as skilled at it. I told the principals last week that youth ministry programs offer students an alternative culture and nurture their spiritual development. I think that motherhood for me is going to be a lot of trying to introduce my children to an alternative culture and nurture their spiritual development - while trying to contribute to the alternative culture and my own spiritual development. (Maybe this is what my spiritual director means by "You take life a bit too seriously"). With the amount of ugliness stalking the child in 2011, it's a demanding ministry. I want to give it my all. I'm grateful for the luxury of doing it full time.  And still I will fail. They'll hear bad words and give bad example. I'll never really be competent or sane and hopefully at some point I learn to accept that. But maybe it would feel nice doing it occasionally in Banana. At the very least, it's time for pants that fit.

my maria

hand churned butter by katrina and kate

Maria and I have been working our way slowly through Laura Ingalls Wilder's Farmer Boy for the past few weeks. I wanted to read her the Little House books, but can't find them in the library here. The closest I could get was Wilder's book narrating a year in the life of her husband's childhood. I wasn't sure if Maria would tolerate a long book about a little boy, especially since chapter books with few illustrations are very new to her. To my surprise, she's really into it. To my even greater surprise, I am really into it too. It's so much more fun than reading Curious George (for the 73rd time). I think I must have refused to read this book as a child because it was about a boy, but it's been a real treat as an adult. I'm fascinated by the way the Wilders lived and parented and churned butter. Every night after reading, I report back to Richard and update him on what homemade wonder the Wider family accomplished that evening. He's polite, but I would guess that he's not terribly interested in hearing about Mother Wilder churning 500 pounds of butter. But Christine is. It's really nice having another woman around. She was so interested, in fact, that she related the news to some of the youth. Kate and Katrina turned up at girls group last night with a small batch of hand-churned butter for me. exclamation point. !

So Maria and I are learning about old fashioned farm life and enjoying our lessons immensely. And Maria is also participating in her parents' missionary endeavors. Frankly, she's doing a better job of it. She's far more natural, unabashed, persistant. She's begun proselytizing her preschool teachers. We didn't put her up to this - we had no idea it was going on. When I fetched her earlier this week, one of her teachers had that look on her face - the look that says "Wait until I tell you what your child did today!" (I am very accustomed  to seeing that look after an adult spends any amount of time with Maria). Apparently Maria has been taking a census of her Montessori teachers to discover who amongst them goes to church and who does not. This particular teacher had responded in the negative, "No, Maria, I'm afraid I do not go to church." 

"Why not?"

"Well, I'm not sure. I guess I haven't found a church I like."

"Oh. Well, you could come to our church. And you could sit with us. 

But it's not as nice as our church in America."

(Someone please tell Fr. Howard. And please, no one tell Fr. Michael. Or tell him, but leave out that last little bit)

I didn't know whether to feel slightly apologetic or in awe of my daughter. I decided on the latter. The teacher, who is an absolutely lovely woman, wasn't offended at all and laughed as she shared the conversation, but added that she had spent the rest of the afternoon occasionally wondering why she didn't go to church. Maria, completely unaware of the depths of soul into which she had plunged her beloved instructor, blissfully returned home, drank some strawberry milk and began rehearsing to play Mary again in the school pageant. No, she has not been assigned the role yet, but it's good to have your skills sharp just in case. And who can resist practicing with a living prop? 

spring in mt maunganui

We've been busy, busy, busy.... just a brief overview here complete with a few photos. Last term ended in a whirlwind of retreats and trips, leaving us all a little breathless and exhausted. We had two weeks to recover before plunging in to the final term of the school year before Christmas/summer break. Rich and I took the kids to visit friends over in Raglan. Raglan is one of the surfing capitals of the world and features indescribable waves crashing against sheer cliffs and black sand beaches. We took in the sights while staying with our friends on their picturesque little farm. The view from their front door is below. Their endearingly friendly kid (more puppy than goat) is above. 

We came back in time to host a world-class rugby world cup party. About 40 people crammed into our living room to watch the All Blacks beat France. Nearly all viewers had their faces painted for the festivities, including the Americans present. 

Then term four began. Our theme for the youth groups is "Five Phrases That Will Change Your Life". We're building talks around mantras, mottos and Scripture that can give grace in the midst of myriad challenges. Some examples incluse "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me!" and "Jesus, I trust in You!" and "Be not afraid!"  Girls group is studying "pathways to God" - taking intense looks at the spiritualities of various saints. We've studied the little path of love of St Therese and Mother Teresa, who advocated serving God by doing small things with great love. We've trodden the peaceful path of trust of de Caussade, who recommended a simple self-abandonment to divine Providence in all things. We'll be exploring quite a few more paths over the coming weeks and will probably blog more about this fascinating topic. Rich and Glen are leading the boys this term on The Royal Road of the Cross, discussing the virtues of sacrifice and manly altruism. We've also celebrated the feast of All Hallow's Eve with the youth by organizing a saint-costume themed progressive dinner.

christine and I painted 16 nearly identical paintings 

to distribute to each membre of girls group

Our wonderful angel Christine has been accepted to NET and will be heading to Australia in early January. She'll be volunteering in youth ministry there for a year. [Rich's poor parents must be pretty sick of this side of the globe sucking all their family members away.....] We're all really really REALLY excited for her - and very sorry for ourselves. We'd love prayers (stat!) for another awesome woman to take her place for the young girls here in New Zealand. 

Lastly, in response to the many thoughtful queries about Joseph - he's doing fantastic! He's looking great,  happy, healthy - a wonderful miracle in the flesh! He's discovered how to sit and how to bear weight on all fours. He has been appalled at how much his three new teeth have hurt and is not pleased to have three more coming through. On the other hand, he is delighted to discover there is such a thing as ice cream in the world.  We offer him a taste of sheer bliss a few times a week to help him put on some pounds and he couldn't be more grateful. He wants to write a whole blog thanking Uncle Dave for offering that piece of medical advice! Today at his monthly hospital check-in he'd finally inched up above the 2nd percentile line and now holds a proud space halfway between the 2nd and 9th percentile. Way to go, Joseph! His liver functions took a small turn for the worse this month for the first time in a while, so please pray that ice cream therapy might turn out to be as beneficial to his organs as it has been for his weight.

thanks uncle dave!!!!!!!!!