A joke from my 4yr old to his 6yr old brother yesterday:

J: Knock knock
B: Who's there?
J: Why did the chicken... ummm chicken!
B: Why did the chicken chicken who?
J: ummm because he needed to get to the other side of the school to ride the slide because that was where the playground was!!!!
B: (politely) I'm sorry I don't really get it.

At which point I start laughing, which gets my daughter giggling and soon the whole car is cracking up.

Sometimes we all get things a little mixed up.

In two days we will celebrate St. Patrick who used a shamrock to explain the incredibly confusing 3 Gods/ 1 God stance the Catholic religion had settled upon.

And though I believe in the sacredness, I will never again be able to do the sign of the cross upon myself without giggling just a little because of another mix up by my youngest.

I was brushing my teeth when he, at around 2 and 1/2 rushed in ready to get a sibling in trouble.

Clutching his left shoulder he cried, "MOMMM MOMMY!! Em hit me on my Holy... or on my Spirit... which one is this one?"  It took me a moment to realize that the poor third child was quite possibly never taught the word 'shoulder.'  He was not inundated with Elmo body cartoons nor lulled to sleep by 'my body' books like his siblings.  He jumped right into My Little Pony and Star Wars and they didn't cover  the basics.  So after years of prayers at meals and bedtime, he logically assumed that one shoulder was called a 'Holy' and the other, 'Spirit,' and that for some reason we named them before prayer.  I can't imagine how his little brain was computing that his forehead was also his Father...

And speaking of the Father...

My hubby and I were doing a little Muppets swedish chef impersonation (he was the body and voice, I was the arms) for my children's entertainment.  His accent was dead on... my arm acting could've used some work.  We, comically by my personal opinion, went through a routine of getting the dogs to do their tricks and rewarding them with ham all in the style of swedish chef to the delight of the youngens. At the end of it, my middle child giggled and dashed out of the room exclaiming, 'OMG.'

Before I could correct, discipline or admonish... as I've heard that Christian parents should be quick to do as the basis of OMG violates the commandments, the youngest asked, "OMG, what does that spell?"

And without missing a beat, the middle child said, 'Omg.' Yes, he said something like ummgaa.  and continued to say, "I don't really know the word, but I think it means like, wow, or something like that because people seem to say it a lot when they see something crazy."

After much more laughter than our swedish chef routine got... my daughter corrected them, "O.M.G.  It stands for Oh My Goodness."

"ohhhh," they both echoed.  Followed quickly, of course, by "Jinx! Stop Jinx 123456..."

In each and every one of these situations... the kid was wrong, or mixed up about something.  But, never in my wildest dreams would I think to be angry about it.  They were using knowledge and words and context clues and trying to piece things together as best they could given the limited understanding they had at the time.  Seeing them trying so hard to recreate humor, to accept what what we had presented them as fact, and extrapolate from basic grammar rules was fantastic and beautiful and fun.

In many groups of adults, I can correctly assume ahead of time what their stance or belief on things are... sometimes even their exact words before they say them.  We keep repeating and contradicting one another, but we have a hard time accepting that we all may be mixing things up a little.

And though all that seems obvious in politics... it is true too in religion... even and especially in the religion of atheism.

Not many seem to be willing to admit that there is a really really good chance they've got it all mixed up.

My journey with religion has been pretty open and present on these pages and though I've certainly embraced faith more, it is clear I'm constantly struggling.  In thinking about how silly it would be to get angry at my children for making mistakes with good intentions, I kind of hope that is how God sees me and all of us as we muddle through religion. Comically misunderstanding and yelling and misquoting as we go.  All with good intentions.  All just wrong.  Really really absolutely and ineptly able to understand, wrong.  

And whether or not that is true of God, maybe we should try to see each other with more forgiving eyes.

Because even though I think every single human has God wrong on some level or another... I believe that if we love, forgive and accept each other's ineptness... we come a little closer to understanding the greater picture.

Maybe even as close as my youngest did on his next joke attempt:

J: Knock knock
B: Who's there
J: Banana
B: Banana who?
J: The banana was running because someone ate his apple friend!! Oh WAIT He SPLIT!! Get it? I'm a banana split AAAA Stop eating my apple friend... haha...  Wait, what was I saying?

Last year we were riding home from the park when I saw him waiting near the stop light with his handwritten cardboard sign.

With my kids in the car, I hoped to either make it through the light or get stopped far enough back that we wouldn't be confronted head on with the uncomfortable situation.

Nope.  Instead, we were stopped at the primo spot.  The gentleman was just outside our window.

"Mom, what does that sign say?" asked my son.

"It says, 'Jobless and hungry please help," quickly responded my daughter.

"MOM!" they both implored me.

"Guys, I don't have any money," which was true, but there in my passenger seat were the snacks I had packed for the kids that we didn't eat at the park.  It was just some apples and juice boxes... but it was something.

I rolled down the passenger window and he walked over respectfully.

"I don't have any money, but I have these if you'd like them."

I was nervous because I had heard stories of food being thrown back at the driver in disgust.  But he accepted them gratefully, thanking us five times as he walked away.

At which point my 5 year old middle child took it upon himself to roll down his own window.  "Hey! Do you need a place to stay?  We have a great house!!"

"Bean," I hissed terrified.  But the guy heard, and with a smile said, "Oh, no I've got somewhere thanks..."

I smiled gratefully to the gentleman and hurriedly rolled up the window before my little man could finish his next sentence, "well, if you change your mind we live at.... "  (damn those preschool teachers for making him memorize his address.)

Sigh.  Well, several months and several stranger danger lectures later, I was reminded of this story as I waited to have confession.  The priest was running late and the chapel was completely locked down and in the middle of nowhere.  It was a pretty day though so I thought I could easily take that time to pray and meditate on what it was I needed to talk about.

Which would have been great, if my bladder were not tipping point full.  I had a glass of water, a kale-berry smoothie (my own recipe) and two cups of coffee that morning.  I had to pee so bad my knees hurt.  I had to pee so badly I could taste it.  Seriously, I thought I was going to explode.

I didn't want to leave, because the closest fast food restaurant or gas station was a ways away and surely he would be there any minute.

I tried to pray the pee away and meditate on the rosary, but I kept messing it up saying, "hail mary, full of pee..." so I decided I shouldn't do that anymore.  It was so bad I took a little lap around the building checking to see if there was any place that popping a squat outside a chapel could be acceptable.

I saw the whole thing in my head, pants down, peeing on the chapel wall when the priest walked up, "Don't worry! I'll confess this too!!"

But all options seemingly gone, I took to asking God, because I assumed, like usual, this was actually part of His plan somehow.  So praying for the priest to come, praying for my bladder to grow, praying for a quick fix didn't work.  So instead I prayed to understand.

"Should I not be at confession? Am I about to talk about the wrong thing? Is there something I'm not realizing I need to talk about?"

"You know," I went on, "It's really hard to pray and hear you when I have to pee so bad."

And there it was.  I got out my pen and let it scratch across my journal.

It is hard to pray when you have to pee so bad.  If that is the case, I'd imagine, it would be hard to really pray if you are hungry, if you thirst, if you are sick, in pain,  lonely or discouraged.  If your physical body is not cared for it can be nearly impossible to be able to let go of worrying about 'earthly things,' and turn inward for peace and wisdom.

We quibble at times about the importance of caring for the body vs. caring for the soul.  Some churches like to focus on charity while others on evangelization.  And, while both are important.  In that moment, I knew that for me, someone could speak redemption to me until they're blue in the face but if I were hungry, I couldn't take that message inward where it could bear any fruit.

We may not be able to change someone's minds or beliefs, but we can help in any way we can to take care of one another so that they have the opportunity to find the goodness in themselves.

So obvious, so commonly taught, but it struck a chord for me.  And I realized how obvious that idea is for children.  How obvious it was to Bean that if this guy is hungry... he might also need a comfortable bed, and how he could provide it.  But as we get older, in the midst of fear and worry, we forget the importance of trying to take care of each other even in the simplest of ways.

And the moment I put down my pen and asked, "is that what you were trying to get me to focus on, God?" I heard a voice.

"I'm sorry I'm late... was running errands with another priest."

For the last small moment I had forgotten about how much pain I was in, but when I looked into the kind eyes of the apologetic priest what I meant to say was, "no worries at all! God used the time well."

Instead I said, "Oh Lord, where is your restroom I'm about to burst... Sorry, I'll confess that."


thanks for reading,

-m