Easter

Happy Easter! We had a pretty good Holy Week and celebration of Easter.

On the night before Passion Sunday, we watched the last hour or so of Jesus of Nazareth. It's not necessarily the grown-ups' favorite depiction of Jesus, but the kids like it, and it gives them very concrete images to draw on during the long reading of the Passion. Some of it flies right by them (they had an animated discussion about whether it was safe to have a campfire indoors, all the while Jesus is offering his friends the bread and wine on the screen) -- but some of it sticks. The next day, Mouse leaned over and whispered several times during the reading of the Passion about connections she made with the movie.

We kicked off Triduum on Holy Thursday by taking the kids to an outdoor stations of the cross on the grounds of our local seminary. We brought along a picnic supper (the weather was gorgeous) and a little stations of the cross booklet for kids that we picked up at church -- one of the best little books like that I've ever seen, actually. Each of the stations featured a bas-relief carving on an upright slab of stone, so that the kids could actually reach out and touch the figures as we read the reflection. All of us took turns reading, except for Jaybird, whose job was to find the next station, based on our description. After a little bit of a rough start, the stations went pretty well -- much better than we expected, actually. Unfortunately, Mouse lost a tiny little plastic ring at the sixth station, which ultimately led to her very own version of the Passion play. It was a sad situation that should have warned me against taking the older kids to the Holy Thursday service. Mouse really wanted to do the foot-washing thing with me, so we rushed up to the front and waited in line. The people in front of us were very meticulous about washing each other's feet -- if Jesus had taken so long, he never would've made it to the Garden of Gethsemane on time to meet Judas -- so that by the time we got to the basin, things were clearly wrapping up (i.e., the music was winding down, and the acolytes were putting away the other basins). So I hurry up and whip off my shoes and socks -- only to have Mouse tear up and whisper, "I don't know how to wash feet!" I'm thinking: Exactly how complicated could this be? After a rather long whispered conversation, I finally ended up washing my own feet (Mouse dried them). And then, right before Communion, Mouse started whimpering with increasing intensity about wanting to go home -- so we did.

The Good Friday service went much better; the church had big kettle drums accompanying the reading of the Passion, which held the kids' interest pretty well; they also liked kissing the cross.

Because we were going to visit my parents on Easter morning, we went to the Vigil the night before. We came prepared with a sling for Mudpuppy and a pillow and blanket for Jaybird. Amazingly, it all worked out pretty well: Jaybird fell asleep after the Exultet (but not before getting to see the Easter candle brought into the dark church), and Mudpuppy slept through most of the service (in the sling) as well. The kids loved the drama of the readings: there were multiple readers on some of the readings, and music sprinkled throughout (e.g., the whole assembly joined in the refrain on the Genesis reading, singing, "And God saw it was good. . . "). Mouse even leaned over and whispered, "This is great!" at one point. Plus, several people were initiated into the church, including a boy the kids know from school. They waved at him and gave him "thumbs up" during his baptism.

After the service, there was a cake and punch reception for the initiates. We woke Jaybird up for that, because she'd be furious to know she missed a chance for cake. It's fair to say that the reception was the highlight of the night for her. Everyone is always extremely upbeat and happy at that reception. Bear sidled up to our parish priest while he was taking another piece of cake and said, "Hey! How come you get to have two pieces!" Our priest laughed and said that it was Easter, after all. Bear allowed that it was and added, "It's okay. I had three pieces."

The Easter bunny stayed up until midnight getting the kids' baskets together, which included some very good kids' music for the girls (Seeds of Purpose and Seeds of Courage from Seeds Family Worship), and Bear got a CD featuring Scarecrow and the Tinman (a pretty good Catholic alternative rock band).

The kids woke up at 6:40 the next morning and tore into their baskets before the grownups were even up. Grumpy Easter bunny!

Later in the morning, we drove northward to visit my family. Starling "lost" her wallet at an Arby's, which delayed us for an hour as we 1) tore apart the car, 2) asked the manager to go through two garbage cans, and 3) frantically drove around trying to find a phone to cancel all our credit cards. Of course, we found the wallet when we got to my parents -- stuffed under a car seat. Here are some pictures (and a video) from later that day:

Mouse blows bubbles into the ear of her uncle, who is holding a baby cousin.

Another cousin's Easter egg haul. (She goes by "Demand" on her mother's blog!)

Mouse with egg.

Click on the play button for an Easter message from all the kids:

J prays

The other night, J -- in her usual assertive manner -- asked to lead the mealtime blessing prayer. We somewhat reluctantly let her (she's always asking), expecting the usual off-topic rambling. To our surprise, she folded her hands nicely and recited a short little prayer, something to the effect of, "God, we thank you for this food that you gave us, and thank you for the people who made it, and please help everyone who is sick to get better. Amen." Both S and I were so stunned (we rarely get such a long, nice prayer out of the older kids) that we just sort of lavished praise on her.

Now everytime there's a prayer to be said -- on the way to school, before a meal, or when an ambulance passes by -- she's on the job. "Now guys," she'll say to her older siblings, all serious, "just listen. This one is going to be the best prayer ever!"

Princesses aren't afraid of ticks . . . or are they?

I did a LOT of yardwork this weekend -- everything from cutting and laying sod to planting a cherry tree to putting in a new bed for strawberries. There's just a lot of work when you're gardening and raising a family at the same time.

We took a break on Sunday to visit the Upper Mississippi River Wildlife Refuge at Trempealeau (Wis.). It was a gorgeous day, and the river was just teeming with life. The older kids identified several kinds of ducks using the free spotting scopes on the observation deck, and then we walked a trail through some of the marshy backwaters. The kids saw all sorts of signs of spring: little flowers in the grass, perhaps a dozen turtles sunning themselves on logs in clumps of three or four, and dozens of different bird calls -- some of them I'd never heard before.

But by far the most dramatic "close encounter" with nature occurred a few hours later when we heard M scraming bloody murder up in the bathroom. When I got there, she was screaming, "There's a spider on me! Get it off! Get it off!" And indeed, there was something black and hairy on her leg. I took a swipe at it, and it kind of came off with a bloody smear. I picked it up ion a tissue (it was still alive) and took it downstairs to consult with S. We decided it was definitely a tick. Meanwhile, M is still screaming her head off upstairs, so I headed up there to calm her down and apply some disinfectant. Nothing doing. She was hyperventilating and shaking, too. She was far too upset for me to handle (I get "sucked in" sympathetically), so I brought S in. She shooed everyone out, explained about ticks to her, gave her a bath, and prayed over her. It took her a good half hour to calm down.

I'm guessing she's not going to be the outdoorsy type, huh?

M is sick

Poor M is very sick with a stomach flu. Yesterday she came home from school and went to the bathroom, where she lay down on the floor.

"M, what are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing. Just laying around."

"Are you feeling sick or something?"

"No!"

Well, an hour later we're making a quick run to drop B off at his playdate. On the way home, M says, "Dad, I lied! I LIED, Dad! Because I do feel sick!" Bleah, bleah, bleah -- all over the car.

Took her home and figured it was a one-off sort of thing, but no, she kept vomiting for the next five hours, probably a couple dozen times. We kept her up watching the first half of Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium (an excellent little film, judging by the first half) until she wasn't throwing up any more. Gave her some Gatorade, which she kept down.

So she slept on and off all day today, and started running a fever of 102.5. Didn't eat anything but some fruit and a tiny bit of ice cream in the evening, which she promptly threw up. So we're watching her for dehydration.

J and B suggested that we pray over her, which is something we do whenever someone in the family is particularly sick. So I got our purloined copy of The Catholic Family Book of Blessings and Prayers (actually just borrowed for an excessively long time from the diocese) and prayed the ancient rite of blessing for a sick person over her.

Hope she is better tomorrow.

What does God sound like?

Sometimes when we pray with the kids we have them practice silence by asking them to "listen for angel wings," or to "listen for God." Last night, M looked back at me with those big brown eyes and asked, "What does God sound like?"

I said, "Hmm." Long pause. "Go ask your mother." Hey,  she's a theologian, so she has all the answers. (He says with a straight face.) It's a good question for pondering, but perhaps tonight we will read 1 Kings 19:11-12, in which Elijah hears God in "a tiny whispering noise." Might be a good discussion-starter.

Do all sea monkeys go to heaven?

So B’s sea monkeys died today . . . a day after he got them started . . . and at his own hand. He was pretty inconsolable.   

You have to understand that we have been putting him off about getting a pet for, oh, about three years now. . . . Mostly on the grounds that a) I already have three little mess-makers to clean up after without voluntarily introducing a fourth, thank you very much, and b) allergies. We are working on the allergies issue to see whether we might be able to get a cat (cats are reportedly very fastidious). For three whole years he has been begging for a dog, a cat, a frog, anything at all, really.   And then he got the sea monkeys for Christmas (from a relative, not from us), and such jubilation and expectation you have never seen. He sat there watching the bowl of tap water on his dresser for a good chunk of the evening yesterday. He even set up lamp nearby “to give them more heat.” And he fussed over them most of the day today, which is how he ended up dropping the container on the floor, spilling all the water and the nearly invisible sea monkey eggs.   

Great weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth ensued. “I wish I could go back in time,” he moaned. I let him curl up with me in bed while he worked it out. Then we went online and bought replacement sea monkeys for $13. (We could order replacements by mail for $7 if we were willing to wait up to six weeks.)   That made him feel better, although he was still upset about “killing” the sea monkeys. He was somewhat consoled by the idea that they are with God now—“playing and having fun in heaven.” Still, after our evening prayer, he wanted to have a memorial service with a song and everything.   

Now, I am not big on brine shrimp in the first place, but I’m all for supporting his budding sense of the sacredness of all creation (no matter how small). So we talked a little bit about how every creature is part of God’s creation, and how the Book of Revelation suggests that all of creation will participate in Christ’s salvation (if not in the same privileged way that humans do). Then we sang “All the Ends of the Earth.” You know, that’s the song that goes: “All you ends of the earth, all you creatures of the sea, lift up your eyes to the wonders of the Lord . . . .” Perfect for sea monkeys.

A Parent's Prayer of Abandonment

Well, "Family Prayer Time" didn't go quite as planned again tonight. Andy preferred to read his Bible, Maggie was avidly reading one of the many toy catalogues we've been receiving since, oh, August, and Susie decided to make a game of screaming at increasingly loud levels. After one particularly ear-shattering shriek, I picked her up and moved her into the other room. I could've forced Andy and Maggie to attend to prayer, but somehow it seems counterproductive to a spirit of loving self-giving when you have to use your raised "I AM ABOUT TO LOSE IT" voice.

So, it was down to Marie and me. As we huddled on the couch, I prayed a prayer that I find myself praying all too often: "Help me, God, to be a good parent to these children; give me the wisdom and courage and charity to do what needs to be done. I need your help, because obviously I can't do it on my own!"

Kind of a sad prayer, but Saint Paul reminds us that "boasting" of our weakness to God is our greatest strength: "Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought" (Romans 8:26) and "I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me" (2 Cor 12:9).

Praying with St. Anthony

St. Anthony must like kids...or at least my kids, because it seems as though they always find whatever they are praying for. (Not so for me.) Once their aunt called long-distance to ask them to pray for a lost wedding ring. They did, and five minutes later, she called to say she'd found it--in a huge load of laundry.

This morning, 7-year-old Andy couldn't find his coin purse. This was a big deal, since he planned to use his money to buy himself hot lunch. (We're too cheap and too wary of school food to shell out for hot lunches ourselves. $2.50 a day! Back in our day....) He looked and looked, but it was only after praying for help that he found it. (He reports having mashed potatoes and some unspecified meat.)

I am of two minds about praying to find lost items, especially with kids. On one hand, I don't want to inculcate a "magical" understanding of God in my kids--i.e., prayer as a way to magically get what you couldn't get otherwise. Nor do I want them to have an understanding of God as fast-food clerk ("Here to serve you, your way, 24/7!")

On the other hand, God seems to be leading the way here. They pray, God gives them what they want...who am I to interfere? We have been careful to place all of these "lost and found" prayers in context: "You know, we don't always get what we want when we pray. God is not magic or a machine; God is like a friend or a parent. He always gives us whatever is best for us." Sometime in the future God may lead them to a more relational prayer life. But for now, something tells me he delights in their simple faith.