Learning to be Beautiful

Pink is Jack's favorite color right now. He complained bitterly when Annie got to wear the tights she proclaimed "beautiful" to church last Sabbath and he had to wear a button down shirt and shorts. So, midweek, he found a pair of Annie's too-large pink tights, stripped to his undies, and pulled them on. Digging a pair of pretty pink gloves out of the same drawer, he donned them and pranced out of the room to dance through the house, thrilled with bathing in the beauty of pink. That outfit became his standard attire for the remainder of the week. He skid across the floor behind a tricycle, he pushed around his cars and trains, he even slipped outside and dug in the mud, all in pink tights and gloves. I took some pictures and videos. Eyebrows were raised (a pair of them mine), smirks exchanged (yup, me too), and teasing ensued questioning what unmanly genes my husband may have passed down to our son.

Annie loves cars, planes, helicopters, and trains. She steals Jack's Lightening McQueen sandals, fights over his matchbox cars to stuff into the back of her "happy bear" plush backpack, plays "race cars" pushing a stroller around at breakneck speeds, and her favorite shirt is a hand-me-down with Thomas the Train's happy face on the front. She wants to climb, play hockey, and dig in the mud. No eyebrows are raised, no smirks exchanged... no one questions the unwomanly genes I may have passed down to our daughter. Oh no, a tom boy with long blond hair and beautiful blue eyes is always adored.

Offensive: My son learns appreciation of beauty from the sister he adores and is ridiculed. My daughter learns appreciation for mechanical things from the brother she adores and is praised.

Delightful: My daughter's strengths are expanding my son's perspectives.

Delightful: My son's strengths are expanding my daughter's perspectives.

Fortunately Jack and Annie aren't socially sophisticated enough to understand the scorn of a smirk. But the time will come when the devastation of condescension invades their emotional security. I'd better not be the one to introduce the concept to them.

Is it time to wake up?

"I haven't seen Nanny in a long time," Jack said.

I stopped singing "The Old Rugged Cross," the first song in our nightly ritual. "No, you haven't. Do you remember that Nanny died: We buried her in the ground. We won't see her again until Jesus comes. Then, Nanny will come up out of the ground and go with us up into the sky to meet Jesus and go to Heaven.

Jack stared up at the green stars scattered by his night-light across his ceiling and thought for a moment. "In Heaven, Nanny will never, ever, ever, EVER die again?"

"That's right. Nanny will never ever, ever, EVER die again." He was quiet, so I started singing again.

But Jack had one more comment, "Airplanes take us to airports, but clouds take us to Heaven."

I grinned into the darkness, "Yes."

Yesterday a friend of mine sent me a link to a sermon series by David Gates called, "The Extreme Series." I listened to the first sermon yesterday. Now I wonder, are we deep in the darkness of the early morning? Are we the bridesmaids that were all ready when the cry went out in 1844, but who have fallen asleep now since such a long time has passed? Will we awaken in time? Are we among the wise with the extra cruise of oil?

I almost never watch TV. I live in blithe ignorance of the events surrounding the times. I hate seeing reports on crime, economic depression, world wars, starvation, and murder, so I ignore it. I suppose it's a bit like refusing to look at the sky. Is it fair, or cloudy? Are there severe thunderstorms ahead with tornados about to touch down? Should I be running to my Shelter? Is David Gates a modern-day Noah, or is he crazy?

Jesus promised He would return. Do I believe Him, or will a coming Armageddon simply spin us into another dark age of human existence as so many books and movies project. Jesus said he would come as a thief in the night to those in darkness. I don't want to be want to be in the darkness! Give me the Light!

Starting down the Laine

At the suggestion of a few friends, I have entered the realm of blogging. I'd like to think they pushed me to record my thoughts in a public arena because of my unique world view, insight, and wisdom, but I'm suspicious it's because they got tired of getting generic emails from me with pictures of my kids. 

I admit I have not been one to peruse blogs. When reminded, I like to read my friends, but, by the time they remind me, I've forgotten my ID and password. 

What shall I write? Full of ignorance, I am, nevertheless, embarking down a new path. The Sonya Laine. If I see any interesting scenery along the way, I guess I'll post my thoughts and pictures here. We'll see how it goes...