uncertainty

"mommy, if i ask you something, i want you to be completely honest with me," liam said to me one morning over breakfast back in late november.  "you have to promise."

"what do you want to know?" i responded, using the tried-and-true parenting method of deflection so as to avoid making promises one cannot keep.

"okay," liam sighed, clasping his hands together and looking quite serious as his big blue eyes focused on mine.  "here's my question.  do you and daddy move gofster every night?"

i froze.

and then my mind went into panic mode.  gofster.  beloved family member since 2007.  son doubting.  an accusation.  must answer somehow.  must not lie.

i swallowed.  "gofster?  our elf the shelf?"  i stalled.  "why would you ask that?"

liam moved his clasped hands to point at what was below them: the target christmas catalog, turned to a page where the boxed edition of the elf the shelf was featured prominently above the price tag of $29.95.  "i mean, you can just go buy one at any store around here," he said.  "i just saw a whole table full of them at the bookstore last week.  so is gofster just something you bought, and you and daddy move him while susanna and i are sleeping?"

oh crud.  susanna.  my mind escalated its panic mode, as i whipped around to see if she was privy to our conversation.  i had been thrown into such a tizzy that for that moment i didn't even realize that she was in the next room, practicing piano, obviously oblivious.  whew.  unfortunately i turned back to find liam still sitting there, looking at me, expectant. 

must answer somehow.  must not lie.

"well, i think that gofster is part of the magic of christmas," i stammered in what i hoped to be a confident enough voice.  "i think there are so many magical parts of christmas, and it's fun to just believe in that magic."  and then, calling on that same tried-and-true method of deflection, i followed with, "are you ready for some more orange juice?"

liam dropped the subject, but my mind was reeling.  had we already arrived to this long-dreaded point, where that aforementioned magic starts to lose its luster?  did we really already have children old enough to start questioning?  a little part of me sort of wilted inside, unable -- or maybe just unwilling -- to accept the fact that our children aren't tiny little towheaded toddlers anymore.  they might actually stop believing unconditionally everything their parents have told them. 

after mulling it over with chris, we decided that we would wait for liam to bring it up again, and then perhaps have a long conversation about it -- which turned out to be the best decision we could have made, because it actually never came up again.  instead, the very first thing we heard on the morning of december 1st, after the racing thumps of footsteps down the stairs and back up again, was this scream of sheer elation:

"susanna!  mommy!  daddy!  I FOUND HIM!  GOFSTER IS HERE!"

and for the following 23 days, gofster was, once again, embraced as our long-lost fifth family member.  they've woken up early each morning to search for him; they've regaled everyone they see with tales of his antics.  they've accepted 2 dollar bills from him after he apparently intercepted the tooth fairy (they lost 3 teeth between them in 3 days), made his picture their screensaver on their iPods, and communicated with him via written notes.  (oh, the notes.  enough to fill a book.  that might just be a post for another day.)

i look back on that terrible conversation from november and cringe, sad to be reminded of the doubt that was creeping into my little boy's mind.  but for once, i'm grateful for my parenting uncertainty, for it turned out to be a blessing.  i could have had that honest discourse he was requesting, but if i had, i would have denied him another holiday season's worth of joy -- at least, the type of joy that is brought by a magical elf on the shelf that can be bought for $29.95.  i can now acknowledge that the reason i was so uncertain of how to handle it was because i wasn't yet ready to give the answer.

but i am certain about one thing now, in hindsight, and it's this:  he didn't really want to know it anyway.

the kids found him one morning with headphones to his tiny ears, jamming to the christmas station on pandora

speedy delivery

gofster arrived with his annual letters from santa this morning, a day after the kids chatted with the old guy at the club during the santa brunch.  he seemed to have a really accurate read on how the kids are doing -- the highlights of their year, as well as room for improvement opportunities for growth (gotta use the new catchphrase, of course!)

the kids said they didn't mind me sharing them, so here they are. i'm hoping you can click on each image to enlarge it; otherwise, this is sort of a wasted post.

(and a special thanks to my mom for all her work behind the scenes, if you know what i mean.)   

yes

this was my contribution to our church's advent devotional book this year.  (hence everything being capitalized, which will delight my father to no end.)

“I don’t want to do it,” I said, my five-year old blond head shaking emphatically.  “Tell them that I said ‘no thank you.’”

My mother had one hand covering the mouthpiece of our avocado green phone, while the other twirled the cord that was stretched from the kitchen wall.  “Are you sure?” she asked, her eyebrows raised.  I nodded.  “All right, then.”  She returned to her phone call.  “She says she would rather not play Mary.”  She went on to let them know that I would still participate in the St. Michael’s Christmas pageant, but would just prefer a smaller role.  

I remember this scene so vividly because it’s my earliest memory of what has turned into a lifetime of indecisiveness.  To this day, I struggle with most decisions; whether it’s something as small as what I’ve chosen to wear, to something as large as where I’ve chosen to live, I’m wracked with the tendency to second-guess myself.  That day in 1980, I turned my attention back to my toys after my mother hung up the phone, but already, uncertainty was creeping in.  Had I said no too quickly?  Could I take on this responsibility after all?  All afternoon and evening I pondered the opportunity from every angle, and by the next morning, I had had a change of heart.  Being Mary had turned into something exciting.  I thought I could do it after all.  And I would get to hold a baby doll and pretend like I was a mother.  I should have said yes in the first place.

At the breakfast table, I shared this exciting revelation with my mother while eating my Cheerios.  “I’ve changed my mind.  I think I will be Mary.”

“No, you won’t,” she replied.  “They’ve already given it to someone else.”  

And just like that, my dreams vanished.  In the following weeks, I participated in the rehearsals, silently watching Mary, wishing that it was I in the costume instead.  I beat myself up over my rash decision, wishing I could turn back time and give a different answer.  Why had I doubted myself?  Why hadn’t I said yes?

And then – opportunity came knocking once more.  The night before the pageant, our same avocado green phone rang.  My mother answered it, and then turned to me.  “It seems that Mary has come down with the chicken pox,” she informed me.  “They need someone to step in.  Will you do it?  Would you like to be Mary?”  

I had been given a second chance.  And this time, I was sure about my answer.   I felt that same sense of calm in my soul that I have only after praying for confirmation from God that my choice is indeed the right one.  I felt His blessing.  And on the big day, He was with me, giving me the confidence and peace that only He can provide.  Because I said yes.  

Thirty years later, at our same beloved Saint Michael’s, history repeated itself in a way.  I waited outside my daughter’s Sunday School classroom, and watched as a dozen or so kindergartners emerged through the doorway, bursting with excitement after receiving their assignments for the upcoming pageant.  “I’m a wise man!” one announced.  “I’m an angel!” said another.  

Our five-year old Susanna looked up at me with her signature serene smile.  And then, quietly enough that I had to bend down to hear her, she said, “I’m going to be Mary.”  

Our shy, reserved, attention-avoiding daughter had done what I couldn’t do three decades earlier.  She was asked, and she didn’t hesitate.  She didn’t doubt.  She said yes.

Weeks later, I watched our daughter at the pageant, dressed perhaps in the same veil and robe that I had worn when I was her size, and marveled at her.  There was no trace of the uncertainty that I had had in myself.  No sign of nerves or indecisiveness.  Our daughter – the same little girl who was so terrified on her first day of school three months prior that I had to pick her up early – was now confidently walking down that long aisle with hundreds of pairs of eyes focused on her.  Sitting in my pew, I was reminded of  what the Bible tells us: that God will equip us with everything good so that we may do His will.  God was with Susanna that morning.  Because she said yes.

A common question often surfaces during Advent among believers: what would you do if put in Mary’s shoes?  How would you respond?  Would you say yes? 

I know my answer, for I lived it.  I was asked, and I hesitated.  I lacked the faith to know that God would equip me with everything I needed.  But once I opened myself up to the opportunity, He found me.  Just as He found and equipped my daughter, and just as He found and equipped a poor teenage girl thousands of years ago. He will, we Christians believe, find all of us.  

All we have to do is say yes.

wordless wednesday

wordless wednesday used to be a weekly staple on this blog ... and now, i realize i haven't posted one in six months.  in choosing a few pictures to sum up our christmas season so far, i've also just realized that i have been terribly remiss in introducing the blog world to our newest family addition!  a longer entry focusing on our adorable new pooch Wonder Wo is surely forthcoming.

until then, marvel at her cuteness ... and our kids' cuteness as well.  it's by far our most favorite time of year around these parts, in case you couldn't tell.

this is their first real tree -- EVER.  the last one chris and i had was in 2000, when our new puppy spider decided she was thirsty, went to drink some of the water in the tree stand, and promptly knocked over the whole thing.  so what better time to get another real tree than a month or so after getting a new dog?!  (so far, so good ...)

they both remembered that it was susanna's year to place the angel on top -- which was a good thing, since neither chris nor i had any idea

meeting santa -- or, as they recognize now, one of santa's helpers -- at a friend's party.  when asked for their #1 wish, susanna said an american girl look-like-me doll (which has NEVER BEEN ON ANY LIST WE'VE SEEN.  AND THERE HAVE BEEN MANY LISTS.)  and then liam's request was for a new pair of shoes, making him sound like he's this destitute child from a third-world country walking around without any footwear

my parents requested a picture of wonder for their holiday letter, but every time i tried to get the three kids together in front of the tree, wonder would immediately roll on her back for a belly rub.  my solution: ask liam to hold her up a bit.  not exactly what i had in mind

 

contrary to years past, i spent only a half-second choosing the picture for our 2013 card.  the irony: the last wordless wednesday post, which was a half-year ago on june 12, included this picture, taken at susanna's first communion