Editor’s Note (ha! that’s me!): This was supposed to be yesterday’s post but, due to technical difficulties (technically I was having difficulties figuring out how to get video off my camera and on to the computer), it’s being posted a day late.
First, 15 points to S. for blog commenting with love and logic. Granted, the only, and I do mean only debt we have is our house and our two vehicles, but I would love, love, love to be able to pay some of that off first before McH gets a chick magnet car.
Because, you know, at that point I’ll need the extra cash for the lipo and boob job and everything an executive in his early 30’s looks for in a trophy wife.
O.K., I am sooo just kidding about that trophy wife stuff. Anyway, it looks like he’s not immediately going to be given the COO title. The company doesn’t currently have a COO position, so they want him to come in, do COO stuff, and then once he’s proven himself they’ll give him the title. Still no actual offer yet, either. They’ve decided to have him come back one more time (in a week) to meet with all of the managers who have no idea the CEO is creating a COO position. By next week when he goes back in they should all know that. I suppose McH may need to prepare for some ruffled man feathers at that meeting. Who knows?
MoTab, by the way, is slang for Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Yes, we have our own slang.
No, I don’t have delusions that my two-year-old son is going to grow up to be in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Actually, I’d prefer he didn’t do that as it would require Utah residency. That would mean he would be far away from me. I’m not ready to contemplate the idea that any of my children might wind up far away from me.
Anywhoo, Tank Boy just walked by me, carrying his ever-present bucket of trains, singing what has recently become his favorite song:
I am a child of God
And he has sent me here,
Has given me an earthly home,
With parents kind and dear.
Walk beside me,
Help me find the way,
Teach me all that I must do
To live with Him someday.
I have to figure out how to record him singing this in such a way that I can post it for you to hear. It is too cute. Maybe with a bucket hat and the right angle I could do it. Either that, or I’ll just leave the lens cap on.
This song has always been just about my favorite children’s hymn, and I am really not alone in that. Church wide it is a favorite. Not only is it comforting on an individual level to be reminded that I am a child of God, it helps me keep things in perspective when, say, the person in front of me at the express check out lane has 25 items instead of 12 or less; or when a careless driver cuts me off in traffic; or when I see downtrodden, stressed-out parents screaming at their kids in public; or when my own child is yelling, kicking and spitting at me simply because I wouldn’t let him run with scissors. When I remember that we are all children of God, it helps me to be a little more tolerant, a little more patient, a little more sympathetic, and a lot more willing to help when and where I can.
Since Tank Boy has taken to singing this song, however, I have found some sadness in it which I never felt before. Yes, Tank Boy and our girls have an earthly home with parents who try their best to be kind and dear, but not all kids do. Some kids have abusive parents. Some kids have no parents at all (and how close did Tank Boy come to having no parents at all?) What about them?
Though I know God hasn’t forgotten them, it makes me sad to think about because I’ve seen many times how negative or irresponsible family culture is perpetuated through the generations. It can be a very difficult thing for one to overcome.
Burleys beget Burleys, as my grandfather used to say.
But it is not impossible to overcome. Therein lies the hope within the song. Even if one’s own parents were non-existent in one’s life, or if they were anything but kind and dear, the song is a lodestar to follow in our own parenting endeavors. Whatever absence, lack, or negative example we may have to overcome, no matter how large or small, if we look at our children with an eternal perspective, as children of God, and treat them as such, and if we strive to be kind and dear, they will be o.k. and we will be o.k.
So I have decided not to dwell on the new twinge of sadness I feel with that song, and focus instead on the comfort I’ve always felt and the hope that I have for each of us: that we may do better and be better than we were raised to be, no matter how good or bad that was.
And George, if you’re out there, Tewt the Newt says hello.