Tag: Children

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Fragile Places

Some places seem to be much more fragile than others. This summer, I had the opportunity to go and help out at a Bible camp just for a couple of weeks, to help as a cabin leader. At the start of the week, kids would pile into the camp with their parents, some nervous, some excited to get to know each other and enjoy the games and many excitements of camp. And for the whole week, I would find myself extremely busy and happy spending time with the nine twelve-year-olds in my cabin, counsellors, and all the other kids running around the camp as well. Doing devotions, praying together, eating together and playing games together, we soon got to know each other very well, and before long we felt like a little family – the nine boys, myself and my junior counsellor.

However, before long, the week came to a close. The kids packed up and got ready to home. Dirty clothes and numerous little injuries told the story of all the fun they had. The night before the boys had to leave, some talked about how they wanted to come back next year and do the same thing – that we should all come back next year and be together again. I was happy to hear that they enjoyed it, and to hear them long for a ‘repeat’ in a way, but I knew the truth – that this week could never be repeated again. Camp is a fragile place. It lasts for a week, and in that week there’s an amazing mix of kids and counsellors, which makes the whole time so worthwhile. But this mix of kids and counsellors and experiences can’t last forever, and it can never happen again. It just won’t. Never again will all the same kids be together, with all the same counsellors and be able to enjoy being together all over again. That’s life.

MCS, my old boarding school, is a fragile place. I can remember in my final year of high school, lying in bed, thinking about the changes that would take place when graduation day came. Never again could I walk through these halls I knew to find the same friends in the same rooms. Never again would I take my toothbrush at bedtime and seek out the company of the guys in my class while I brushed – to sit on their beds and try to talk through the toothpaste to them. We would all be replaced. Soon these rooms would be someone else’s, or they would be left empty – as they have been. Some of us might come back and visit and, by chance, may even be together at the same time, and be able to re-live some shadow of our experiences in high school, but it would never be the same.

Some places are solid. Like a tree or house – even the school building we spent so many years in, these places stay more or less the same. Of course, there are always changes. Trees grow bigger, houses change – but they are still there, they continue on. You can climb a tree you climbed in your youth and sit on the same branch, and look out to the same view and, for the most part, it can be the same.

Camp and boarding school are like grenades. All the fragments and particles share space and memories together for moment in time, but when their time is up, the pin is pulled and all the pieces explode across the world – blown into a million tiny shards. Exciting. Painful. Never again can they be put back together. Never again can they be the same.

However, this doesn’t make the fragile places less precious. I really hope my feelings are never mistaken for bitterness or anger, because it’s not like that at all. These places are still so valuable, and the experiences and memories don’t lose their meaning because of the violent separation involved. But I know that some places and experiences will never be the same. One might gather a few fragments to piece together something that looks similar, and bears some semblance of the original object, but still, everything has changed.
These are the fragile places.

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Brushing Teeth

I think it pays to have a perspective shift in your life every once in a while. This friday, after my usual shift of working at the coffee shop downtown, and a quick bubble tea with a friend, I hopped on a bus and headed over to my relatives house to baby sit for them while they went to watch a hockey game. I had planned to do a bit of homework that night, but I figured I probably wouldn’t have done it anyway, and baby sitting sounded like a much better idea.

When I got there I wolfed down my Vietnamese sub sandwich (which I had gotten along with the bubble tea downtown) and soon after a bit of briefing and the bustle of parents leaving, I was left with the three kids watching a tv show in the living room. It was fairly late as it was, and because Josiah, the four-year-old was sick, bedtime was very soon in coming. Before long it was time to shut off the tv and tromp our way upstairs. Josiah picked out a story to read, which happened to be Monsters Inc. 3D. I wasn’t quite sure if it was helpful pre-bedtime reading, since he had to wear these silly 3D glasses while I read the fastest and most anticlimactic synopsis of Monsters Inc. – ten pages of character development, one page of conflict and a page to wrap it all off with a nice ending.

After this, I had been told that I would have to brush Josiah’s teeth before he went to bed. I had never brushed any teeth before, so I have to say I was a little unsure about how it was going to go. Josiah walked into the bathroom, and after perching himself on a stool, facing the sink, simply looked at me in the mirror. “So, I guess its time to brush your teeth.” I opened up the drawer to find a toothbrush, and soon received the run down on the teeth brushing. I was shown the hourglass (or two minute glass), used to make sure that we brushed the teeth long enough, and was told who’s toothbrush was who’s and which toothpaste to use for little Julia, as well as which to use for Josiah.

Then it was time to start brushing. The last memories I have of parents brushing their children’s teeth was from my own parents. I can remember my dad scratching away at my teeth so hard that I was worried I wouldn’t have anything left but nice shiny clean bones by the time he was done! So with this torture in mind, I began very slowly, trying to peer into Josiah’s mouth to see the tiny rows of teeth I was supposed to clean. The two minutes seemed to drag on forever, and at times I thought maybe the sand had just gotten stuck in the glass, and that I would be standing there brushing forever. However, it did finally end, and after some spitting and rinsing, I soon had Josiah in bed, but not before he reminded me that he was supposed to go to the bathroom before he went to sleep. I’m glad the kids know what they’re doing!

Next was Julia, the smiling little one year old, just beginning to say a few words. Jenna, the oldest made sure that I had gotten everything done with Josiah before I took Julia upstairs as well. “You brushed his teeth?”
“Yep.”
“And he went to the bathroom?”
Thanks to him. “Yep.”
“Good.”

And so I had the approval of six-year-old Jenna, and could move on to putting Julia to bed. Again thanks to Josiah I knew which toothpaste was Julia’s, and I guessed the smallest white toothbrush was probably hers too. This time I was even more careful. At first I could hardly tell if I was brushing teeth at all! But soon I found her little teeth, which seemed to have a habit of biting down on the toothbrush and slowing down the process. However, we soon got them all brushed, and after a short bedtime story, I laid her in the crib with all her things, and left her to sing to herself.

Jenna and I watched another ten minutes of tv before she went up as well, thankfully to brush her own teeth. And after some Earth Day education from Clifford, her lights were turned off as well, and with all three doors shut, the rituals of putting the kids to bed were finished. I was surprised at how I was, especially since it was only 8 pm. I only wished that it was me getting tucked into my bed.

And so ended my first real baby sitting experience. I was just glad that I didn’t have to change a diaper, thanks to the fact that Julia filled it just before her parents left. The girl has an excellent sense of timing! The whole evening was extremely refreshing in a way; such a good break from the life of a young college student. It made me excited for being a Dad someday. I know I dread that at the same time – but it really was such a nice time. Thank God for all the Dads and all their hard work.

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The journey is more important than the destination

My four-year-old cousin and I play quite a few games together when I visit from college. He is really quite a smart little guy, so most of the time I try hard to beat him at his games – and usually do. He’s quite a sore loser, so I’ve taken it upon myself to give him lots of practice.

Yesterday we were playing Rummikub, by his own rules, of course. It was very much like Calvinball in many ways, for those who know how Calvinball is played. Ben would dump all the tiles out on the floor and tell me we could choose whatever tiles we liked. Then, once our racks were full, we began to play out our tiles a few at a time – the only real rule being that the tiles had to connect numerically with others in runs. But if one of us wasn’t able to play, he could easily pull a tile from the large pile, clearly visible to all.

In many ways, it was a very relaxing experience. Without any rules, clear objectives, or competition, the focus took a complete change. Instead of worrying about what we were trying to do or a point we were trying to reach, the entire enjoyment of the game came simply from the experience – just from playing. I think there’s something that needs to be learned from this kind of attitude – one where the journey is more important than the destination.

I have seen that phrase quoted often, but have never really understood it. Of course the destination is more important than the journey! Why bother going somewhere if you don’t care to get there? All that I could think of was the long trips in the mountains of Pakistan, where your bottom would ache for hours on end, and where the destination was pure relief – a chance to lie on your front and give your sore bottom a much-needed rest.

I think a great deal of our North American, or perhaps human, culture moves away from this kind of thinking. We focus so much on objectives and gain, that sometimes we forget to enjoy the moment. We get lost in the effort to go somewhere that we forget to enjoy here and now. We will strain so hard towards the peak that we forget to enjoy the climb and smell the flowers.

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Flying Cars and John Locke

When you are a child, there are some rules and facts that you are simply born with, which make complete logical sense to everyone at the time. I helped out with children’s church today, teaching some of the short story of the first part of Christmas, as well as playing cars with the kids after. I was reminded today of a simple fact of childhood: that if you open both a car’s doors at the same time, it is capable of airborne flight. No one questions it, in fact, I can hardly believe I had forgotten it at all.

However, we did have some problems with a little girl who, despite the fact that her monster truck could not open its doors, somehow thought it could fly and hunt down a similarly airborne police car. Foolish little girl. Maybe someday she’ll have some sense knocked into her – car’s only fly with their doors open!

One learns all sorts of things around children, the very first of which is that there is very little different between them and adults. It baffles me to think that someone would even consider John Locke’s ideas of children being ‘blank slates’. Which world did he live on? Perhaps very few would accept the philosophy if the realized the man never had any children himself! Only  imagine if he did. We would read instead of tabula stinky poopy anarchy. 

I mean, when it comes to children, I really think that, in many ways, William Golding’s Lord of the Flies has a great deal more to offer us. At least he had a wife and children. But seriously, who wouldn’t argue that people are born good. They only learn to be selfish, brutal, greedy liars by the time they are four because…. well, because of society – it’s their society of selfish greedy little four-year-olds that turns them evil really. And those other four year olds… they learned it from… well, it just wouldn’t be philosophy if it had any answers, would it?

As a side note, I just want to say that I am really looking forward to heaven. If every bad thing comes as a result of sin, I would put the need to use the toilet as a result of sin. Think about it, no poo poo means no potty, and no potty with the poo poo means no cleaning the poo poo potty! So, there’s one more thing to look forward to in heaven. Take comfort in that thought, for all those blessed enough to be reminded constantly that toilet hygiene comes at a price.