The Benefits of Being Five Years Old

by Rev. Laura Barclay

My niece, Téa, recently turned five and wore this fabulous number. If you can't tell, she is wearing red cowboy boots, a floral skirt with a blue plastic grass skirt on top, a green shirt with flowers on it, a lei, and a multi-colored, peace symbol headband. And to that I say, rock it! More than one, partygoers kept looking at her and saying, "I wish I could still dress like that."

In addition, she completed an art project, which consisted of painting her own treasure box, fit as many of her friends as possible in a giant chair, ate copious amounts of pizza and cake, and played on giant bouncy slides and castles for an hour. She had a blast and it was fun to watch. 

Remember when birthdays started to go downhill after 21 or so? At 25 you could rent cars at a cheaper rate, but that was the last real milestone of adult freedom. Now, birthdays seem to be ignored due to shame ("I'm 29, I swear. Shut up!") or subdued due to indifference ("I think I'll just stay in. Nobody cares that I'm 52."). 

What if we just donned our grass skirts and went for it? Are we afraid people will judge us for having a good time on our birthdays? Afraid that people will think we are too old for that? We all deserve to be happy and celebrated as children of God. Our births are special, no matter if we are 5, 55, or 105.  

So, the next time you see a kid in a tiki, mermaid, or pirate outfit screaming, "Oh yeah, it's my birthday!", consider throwing a pirate-themed fiesta yourself. I might even help plan it with you if there's a cutlass and eyepatch for me! 

The Demise of Tito the Snowman

by Rev. Laura Barclay

Every year, it seems, my niece teaches me a little something about the Christmas season by reminding me what it’s like to see the world through a child’s eyes. This year, perhaps one of the most comical and poignant moments came the day after Téa had built her first snowman, reaching a noble 1 and ½ feet tall, and declared proudly to us all that his name was Tito.

  

The next day brought the bright morning sun which reduced Tito to a pile of mush. I came down the steps and found Téa sitting by herself with huge tears falling silently down her face, clutching something close to her chest, and looking out the window at Tito’s remains.

“What’s wrong?” I asked

“It’s Tito. He went away.” She looked up at me with big, sad eyes.

“Well, he will come and play with you the next time it snows. But it’s okay to be sad. It’s sad when something we care about goes away. What do you have in your hand?”

She showed me a picture of her on a "pirate" ship with her Mommy, Daddy, Nana and Pa. 

“Does remembering a really great moment help when you are sad?”

“Yes. I had fun because I was with family and we sang pirate songs!” She looked momentarily upbeat before remembering Tito’s demise.

“It’s ok to be sad. And we need to really enjoy when we are happy and take a picture with our minds so that we can think of it again when we are sad to bring us comfort. Also, building a snowman is one of the best things about winter. Being at the beach on a pirate ship with family is one of the best things about summer. The great thing is that we know those times will come again, and we have the opportunity to create new happy memories.”

Téa nodded, gave me a hug, and said she needed to think about it for a while and wanted to be alone. Ten minutes later, she had processed it and was ready to create a new memory, bounding into the kitchen to help Mommy cook breakfast. 

This moment stuck out in the holiday season as a primer to a young one about grief and loss, which so many of us deal with during the holidays. I thought of it as a trial run and a way to dissect my own feelings about loss on an elementary level. I realized that in teaching a child, you always learn something yourself. In going back to the basics, we can get to the heart of human processes and thoughts on the most visceral level and reexamine our own lives through the wonder of a child’s eyes.

Christmas Lessons from a Toddler, Part 2

by Rev. Laura Barclay

Last year, you may have remembered me writing about my wonderful little niece Téa, whose innocent questions were a perfect lesson in the meaning of Christmas. Yet again, I was baffled at how her mind worked this Christmas. One day while babysitting, she asked to watch the “Jesus video,” which, after a bit of hunting through a stack of DVDs, turned out to be animated stories of Jesus’ life.

She is currently engaged with trying to figure out who’s bad and who’s good in every story. A pleasant little boy started off by explaining that the Jews were poor and hungry and tired of being treated badly and oppressed by the Romans and led into a story where Simon Peter was depicted being angry at Matthew, also called Levi, the tax collector, who was a Jew working for the Romans (though he will eventually become a disciple).

“Peter’s bad?” she asked.

“No, he’s just angry because he wishes Matthew wouldn’t work for the Romans. The Romans are hurting the Jews. But Matthew leaves his job, and both he and Peter end up helping Jesus.” I replied.

“Oh, ok,” she said

Next up was the story of John the Baptist, looking every bit the part of the rough wilderness type. His stern demeanor convinced Téa he was bad.

“He’s bad,” she said, pointing to John in the water.

“No, he’s helping people.” I replied.

“What’s he doing to Jesus?” she asked.

“He’s baptizing him. That means he’s putting him in the water and Jesus is saying he will follow God.” I replied. How do you explain such a complicated thought to a 3 year old?

“He’s appetizing him?” she asked.

John is then pictured in jail at the hands of Herod.

“But he’s in jail, so he's bad,” she pointed out.

“The people in power were bad, and they put him there,” I replied.

“Oh, ok,” she said, clearly trying to process what it all meant.

More exchanges followed, but she had fewer questions during the stories of the miracles of Jesus, which were told a little more simply. She asked to watch it again. After it was over, she looked up at me and said, “God helps us.”

How, after all my fallible attempts to explain what was going on in terms a tot could understand, did she get that? Touched, I hugged her and said, “That’s right, and God loves you very much, just like we do.”

Later, she repeated this to her mother and father while explaining to them what we did all day. Her parents beamed, proud that she had learned such a message of hope. Somewhere in the mystery of a child’s growth and a family’s love for them, they absorb things we could never dream. May the children of the next generation see the love of God reflected in our actions with them and our neighbors. As we leave the Christmas season, may we carry the hope of Christ in our hearts as we exhibit God’s love in the world.

Kairos>Chronos

Rev. Aileen Lawrimore

“Where has the time gone?” I say to just about anyone who will listen. “Don’t get me wrong; I want my children to grow up (the alternative is unthinkable). I just want to know: Where has the time gone?”

It’s baffling. I can’t figure out how my brown-eyed girl (born just yesterday), is today a young lady looking at colleges. Or how, overnight, I went from buying my little boy light-up Batman sneakers to shopping for size 15 Nikes. And how–how in the world–did my baby girl get to her last year of middle school already, when just last night I was sneaking her ragged pink blankie into the laundry?

Where has the time gone?

I don’t know, but I think I’m looking for it in the wrong zone. In Greek, there are two words for time. There’s Chronos—time that is measured, ya know, chronologically. And then there is Kairos—time that is measured by experiences. Chronos dissolves into seconds, days, years. Kairos, though . . . Kairos remains.

Chronos counts birthdays by ordinal numbers: 1st, 2nd, 3rd, . . . . But Kairos thinks back to a ballerina party that blended over the course of chronos into a makeover session, a Firefighter party for preschoolers that ended as a pick-up basketball game for teenagers in the church gym, and a ladybug piñata in our backyard in Sanford, NC that exploded into one surrounded by teenagers in our Asheville garage.

Chronos sees the seasons come and go and checks off another year. But Kairos sees differently. Kairos sees the Queen of Hearts, Angelina Ballerina, and Thing 1, all with curly blond hair; a puppy, a robot, and a number of clowns, all making lots and lots of noise; a pediatrician, Hermione Granger, and Toy Story’s Jessie, all of whom were far more grown-up than they should have been. Kairos remembers . . . the ball dropping, its year changing in that chronos way all the way down; sandcastles washed away one year and built back up the next; trips to Houston, trips back home, & trips back out again. Kairos smiles remembering all the games of Barnyard Bingo, Blink, & Bananagrams; all the books we’ve read—from Dr. Seuss and Sandra Boynton to Brian Jacques and J.K. Rowling; all the hours of Veggietales, American Idol, and Psych. And Kairos weeps, weeps as faded faces and sharp memories come to mind: Wayne, Paxten, Matthew, Caleb, Cliff . . . . Chronos, distracted by the clock’s ticking, the days passing, just can’t keep up.

Chronos says things like, “How long’s it been . . . .”

Kairos says, “Remember when . . . ?”

Chronos, nervous and fretful, checks its watch and marks days off the calendar.
Kairos flips through photographs and artwork, videos and mementos.

Chronos grows anxious.

Kairos becomes nostalgic.

Where has the time gone?

Chronos doesn’t know.

But Kairos does.

Kairos says, “Look around you. It’s all right here.”

Aileen Lawrimore is a public speaker, freelance writer, and editor. This article originally appeared on her blog, Aileen goes on…and on.

Three Days and Nights

Noah and Sophie 2 yrs. ago

by Dr. Dennis Atwood

It was Sunday night when we realized one of our cats was missing. For over two years the daily routine has been: pets outside during the day and inside the house at night. We have two cats and a dog—all female—which seems to provide some balance to our three boy universe, ying to our yang. (However, with son number one now in college the dog has defaulted to me.) My younger two sons each have a cat. The cats, and the boys, have a nightly drill. After showers and teeth-brushing is done, just before prayers, the cats assume their nightly position—Sox on Cole’s bed and Sophie on Noah’s bed. But Sunday night Sophie was nowhere to be found. This was the first full night in over two years that the cat had not come inside for the night. Noah, who is ten, was not happy about not having his sleeping buddy. We assured him the cat would show up. Next day, nothing. On Tuesday, I made some “cat missing” fliers and we put them all over the neighborhood. Tuesday night came. Still nothing. I called Animal Control. Nothing. For three days and three nights we scoured the neighborhood calling for a cat that was not there.

Since we live next to a small swamp I began to fear the worst. On Monday I heard a story about a hawk that had recently snatched up a small dog living nearby and dropped it several miles away—near a vet’s office ironically enough. That dog didn’t hunt again. I also heard about a coyote recently seen prowling the golf course behind my house. With each passing day Noah got droopier and droopier. It’s hard for a parent to watch a child suffer loss and not be able to fix it. But I knew there was nothing more we could do.

Then on Wednesday morning, as Noah and Cole were outside about to head off to school, suddenly Cole came running in the house saying, “I found Sophie!” “What? Where?” I asked. “In Miss Beth’s car! It’s still locked!” In a few minutes, after rustling up the next door neighbors, Sophie was free and Noah was a happy boy. Turns out curiosity almost killed the cat. Our good friends had been loading up their GMC Envoy on Sunday afternoon for a trip to Hilton Head, South Carolina. Apparently, Sophie crawled undetected into their SUV during the loading of golf clubs, beach stuff, and luggage. For three days and nights Sophie hunkered down in the belly of a GMC never making a sound. They never knew she was in there!

So as this cat’s tale turns out, Sophie took a spontaneous vacation to South Carolina for three days with no food or water. She could have jumped out along the way or been run over. But instead she hunkered down for three days and nights entombed in a GMC… and Wednesday morning was like resurrection! After the initial joy, Noah and Cole had to rush off to school. But their joy was palpable. Their beloved cat that was as good as dead, they could now touch and see and speak to. She was alive and present! It was priceless. More than the cat’s return, seeing my son’s joy was the greatest satisfaction of all.

So I’m going to tell them tonight to remember how it felt to experience the surprise and joy of being reunited with someone they thought was gone forever. I want them to remember the sights, the smells, the touches of holding someone they thought they would never see again. Separation and loss is indeed painful and real—even if it involves a family pet.

In a small, tangible way, Sophie’s excursion to Hilton Head reminded me of just how joyful and tangible and real it will be one day to be reunited with those whom we have loved and lost. Our pain here is real, and sometimes we need a signal of the greater reality that awaits people of faith in the Christ who spent three days in a tomb. That final Easter morning is truly going to be glorious. In a strange and funny way, a curious cat and a little boy gave me a grace-filled moment—a foretaste of the gift of eternal life.

Dennis Atwood is the pastor of First Baptist Church of Mount Olive. This article originally appeared on his blog.

Christmas Lessons from a Toddler

by Rev. Laura Barclay

 We all have multiple titles and identities, but the one of which I’m the most proud is the role of “Aunt Laura.” My sister, Jeri, and brother-in-law, Hans, have been intentional about closing the 400-mile gap between us by sending photos and videos of my niece, Téa, on a weekly basis. In watching these videos, I’ve been fascinated by her sense of wonder at Christmas. The lights and sounds are affecting her as if she’s conscious of them for the first time. When I came home for Thanksgiving, I was eager to see what she said about each holiday.

As her mother and I were explaining Thanksgiving and Christmas, she understood that one of them was Jesus’ birthday. We kept working to distinguish the two and told her that we would start to celebrate Jesus’ arrival after Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving Day came, and Téa sat at the table, eating her food and looking from face to face. She got down from her chair after eating, ran around playing, and gave out hugs. Soon Téa laid down on the floor, crossed and elevated her legs, clasped her hands and looked up at the ceiling—an exercise she’s done since before she could walk that we’ve affectionately dubbed “baby yoga.” She seems to do this when she’s thinking or wants to relax. Téa looked at Jeri and asked, “Where Jesus? I thought we see him today. He come see me?” After a moment of “awwws” from the family, my sister explained that Jesus was always with her and loved her very much. She looked up at the ceiling, resuming her “baby yoga,” and thought for a minute. “He love me?” she asked. “Yes, Jesus loves you very much,” my sister replied. After a few more minutes in thought, Téa resumed her play time and commands of Uncle Ryan to “be a giant” and chase her. Before the week was out, we had built Téa her first fort and invented games she played for the first time as if they were magic.

This childlike wonder at the world, with its close by-product of hope, was infectious. As much as I am annoyed by many of the commercial aspects of Christmas, I’ve struggled to come to terms with it and stake a claim on the meaningful aspects of the holiday. As Christians, we must do this in order to honor the reason we celebrate. It may be as simple as finding a child to remind you to look for that star in the East as a sign of hope, rather than to be consumed with the bargains of Black Friday. That child might inspire you to look for the newborn that shall be called Emmanuel, God With Us, who will show us a new Way and let us know that we are truly the beloved of God. How is the hope for a new Way exhibited in your life? How will you let others know that they, too, are loved? May you have a blessed and hope-filled Christmas.

Bullying: An Unacceptable Reality

by Rev. Laura Barclay

Last week, a study published from Clemson University showed that one in six school children have experienced bullying. Many respondents felt that teachers had done little or nothing to stop it. The study also showed that as children get older, they are more inclined to engage in bullying. In the wake of the teen suicides of Tyler Clementi, Billy Lucas, Seth Walsh, Asher Brown, and others because of anti-gay bullying, I think it is important to reflect on what our children might be subjected to in our schools and become part of the solution.

In the Winston-Salem/Forsyth County Schools, teens have started a chapter of the Interfaith Youth Core and chose bullying months ago as the single issue on which they wanted to act. Many of these children told their stories at a C.H.A.N.G.E. assembly in April comprised of 54 faith communities and neighborhood associations. I was shocked by what these children had experienced. One Jewish girl told a story about swastikas being drawn on her desk and money being thrown at her feet, and a Jewish boy said a group of guys asked him why he was at “their school,” saying, “I thought you all died during the Holocaust.” A Muslim boy told a story about being called a “terror baby,” while a Catholic boy shared that he and his friends were called “gay” during the accusations of sexual misconduct among some priests. One Latino Christian described his fear of succeeding in class, saying that the gangs would bully him for being a nerd if they knew how smart he was. From sexual harassment to racial discrimination, it was truly heart wrenching to hear the stories of our youth. In a group of Muslim, Protestant, Catholic, Jewish, and Unitarian youth, every single child had, at the very least, witnessed some form of bullying or discrimination in their school.

According to a report compiled by the US Department of Justice from worldwide studies, Australian researchers discovered that children who were victims of weekly bullying “experienced poorer health, more frequently contemplated suicide, and suffered from depression, social dysfunction, anxiety, and insomnia.” When they grew up, they had an increased likelihood of having children who would be subjected to bullying (pg 12). It’s a problem that has long-lasting effects.

So, what can and should we do? First, we need to become more educated about what our children face in their schools (check links below to start). Second, find out what you can do to stand with those who are bullied. To show immediate support, many celebrities, political figures, and regular folks like you and me have been making short videos and posting them to YouTube to say that “it gets better,” both as you get older and as time progresses and views change about gender, race, and sexuality. Parents can work to be more engaged in the schools, listening to their children and reading between the lines. Teachers can respond and stop the bullying when it starts. Churches and their members can mentor schools and students, and be safe havens for children and teens who are being bullied and contemplating suicide.

Each of us is a child of God, made in God’s image and deserving of love and respect. Gen 1:27-31 states, “God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them…God saw everything that he had made, and indeed it was very good.” We can and should show our children that their lives are precious, and that their potential is great. Jesus tells us not to be “a stumbling block before one of these little ones” and to “become humble like this child” in order to be “the greatest in the kingdom of heaven” (NRSV, Matthew 18). Let us commit to love, stand with, and speak out for these children in Jesus’ example. That these kids can’t see tomorrow for all the pain of today is a tragedy we shouldn’t be willing to let continue.

Additional Resources:

U.S. Department of Health and Human Services Bullying Initiative: http://www.stopbullyingnow.hrsa.gov/kids/

The National Center for Bullying Prevention: http://pacer.org/bullying/

Stomp Out Bullying: http://stompoutbullying.org/