Religious Educator's Memo by Sierra-Marie Gerfao

Tue Apr 8 14:00:42 EDT 2008

R E L I G I O U S   E D U C A T O R’ S   M E M O

It’s a Wednesday morning. I am running late. Actually, I am not running
late. My children are running late. I am scheduled to attend a meeting with
a few colleagues in a half hour, but my wife Gina is at a doctor’s
appointment and I need to meet her there with the kids so she can take over
their care. Unfortunately, like most mornings with two two-year olds, this
one is full of the unexpected. Both the kids woke up an hour early this
morning, and woke me up within minutes of their waking. Perhaps
counter-intuitively, the kids waking up early does not mean that I am likely
to run early with my own tasks. Instead, it means the children are extra
tired, extra cranky, moving in slow motion, and extra needy. Morning chores
that normally take us a few minutes take a half hour because both kids are
at their wits end. In fact, so am I.

On days like this, what would be best for the souls of my children, as well
as my own, is if I slowed down. “I know we woke up early this morning. We
are still tired. It’s hard to do things the way we normally do them, so we’
re going to treat one another with care and take the time we need. What is
most important always is loving kindness.” There are days when I am able to
say these words to my children. I slow down, and for better or worse, I
extend my day on the later end so that the morning is more humane for us
all. These are the formative years of my children’s lives, after all, and
teaching them about my values is important to me. I am playing life’s
delicate game of balance, however, and in this instance, the need to get to
my meeting on time is the weightiest. I force on the kids’ socks, shoes, and
coats, stuff the last of the kids’ snacks into the diaper bag, and we rush
out the door. As we’re walking out, I pick up one of the kids, and the other
melts down into tears. I tell myself that we’ll all be okay in a half hour.
Yes, I live in the “real world” of our contemporary society too.

I spend my life in conversation with other parents, and as far as I am
aware, no parent avoids this struggle completely. The tension is between
these two things: the necessary pace of modern life, and the
developmentally, emotionally, and spiritually necessary pace of our children
’s lives. Each one is more or less necessary at different times, and there
is always the risk of drawing the line in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Miss that opportunity to really hear our children, for example, and we miss
a precious, fleeting glimpse into who they are. In the end, could anything
really be more important than knowing and loving one another?

And yet, running late, forgetting or canceling appointments, or foregoing
opportunities can throw us wildly out of balance (which isn’t, incidentally,
good for children either). So in each moment, like all people, I make a new
decision about how I am going to be present in the world for that moment. It
’s like keeping balance on a board placed over a ball. Even small
adjustments of the feet, some not noticeable to the human eye, can throw me
off. It’s an art form, really, and I am proud of the fact that even though
there are times when I feel I am about to come undone, usually I am able to
keep my balancing board from rolling right over these precious little
souls-- my two children-- while at the same time I am able to fulfill many
of my responsibilities in the larger world.

But just when I think I’ve got it figured out, something will change. The
ball gets bigger or smaller. It loses or gains air. The board gets a crack
it in. An object comes rolling or flying straight toward me. My leg cramps.
My foot gets a sliver. The board is a new size. I take a risk and invite a
friend on. Someone bumps into me.

I recently was tempted to tell a friend with a five month old baby (a friend
who is struggling with exhaustion and an overwhelming desire to sleep more),
“the bad news is that once you get a good rhythm going, once you get it
figured out, it will change. Your baby will go through a growth spurt, or
start teething, or get sick, or learn something new, or stop needing so much
sleep, or start needing more sleep again.” Instead, I focused on the good
news. “You’re a wonderful mother, and you’re highly capable, so you’ll read
your daughter’s cues and adjust as necessary. Eventually, it won’t feel like
such a struggle.”

As this is a challenge that in one form or another is common to all people
living in our society at this time, it is important for us to build spaces
in our lives for slowing down, for being conscious of our breath, for being
aware of the state of our bodies and souls, and for restoring ourselves to
the fullness of our humanity. Remind you of why you come to church on
Sundays? It is true also for our children. One of the goals the Religious
Education Committee wrote many years ago, was to have a children’s ministry
that would help children with a restoration of balance in their lives. Let’s
be attentive to this element of our congregational life together in the
coming months. And let’s be expansive in our thinking about how we can
further this important ministry as we move together into our future.

Warmly in Faith,

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