Our seven year old grandson, who certainly doesn’t lack opportunities for good fun, came home from his next door neighbors recently very excited about a new game he and his friends had come up with, “roofball.” One player throws a tennis ball on to the roof of their garage while the next one catches it as it comes down, then throws it on the roof again for the next one to catch, and so on.
Every game has to have rules, of course, and this one is no exception. Fail to get the ball on to the roof, or unintentionally throw it over the roof to the other side, or fail to catch the ball after the first bounce, and you lose a turn. I asked him how you win in this game, and he responded with, “It doesn’t really matter who wins, its just fun to play,” as he proceeded to show me how it's done on his own garage roof (with a larger ball, since his tennis ball got caught in the rain gutter on his first try).
I can’t help but see multiple advantages to roofball over some of the more organized sports he also takes part in, as in his local soccer league, where some adult coach tells the team exactly how the game is to be played, drills each one in becoming the most able player possible, sees to it that someone keeps score, and where winning can become as important as the enjoyment and good exercise of the game itself.
So let me raise three cheers for “roofball,” a game where everyone wins, you learn to take turns and play by the rules, and where every player has lots of fun.
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Friday, April 27, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Out and About!
One of the pleasures of having our grandchildren over is to watch them play in our tree house and dig around in our back yard for earth worms, slugs, centipedes, and other wild creatures. I’m delighted to see their fascination with nature in light of the fact that most of today's children spend twice as much time indoors as their parents did, missing out on the simple pleasures and lasting health benefits of daily outdoor activity.
I know I harp on this a lot, that today's young spend an average of only four to seven minutes outside each day and more than seven hours in front of electronic media, but there’s little doubt that this kind of sedentary lifestyle is contributing to childhood obesity and depression, as well as limiting children's creativity, concentration and social skills. That makes me sad.
When I was growing up, we had little choice about being outdoors, in that all hands were needed on our family farm to help with daily chores and with the growing, harvesting and preserving food for a large family. But all of that helped make us more productive persons, and I’m glad to see that our local three grandkids recently got two laying hens to take care of in their back yard and to offer them some hands on experience in taking care of chickens and to appreciate where some of their food comes from.
The National Wildlife Federation’s “Be Out There” initiative promotes the following commitment for children and their parents: "I pledge to spend time outdoors every day for the health and happiness of the kids in my life."
I know I harp on this a lot, that today's young spend an average of only four to seven minutes outside each day and more than seven hours in front of electronic media, but there’s little doubt that this kind of sedentary lifestyle is contributing to childhood obesity and depression, as well as limiting children's creativity, concentration and social skills. That makes me sad.
When I was growing up, we had little choice about being outdoors, in that all hands were needed on our family farm to help with daily chores and with the growing, harvesting and preserving food for a large family. But all of that helped make us more productive persons, and I’m glad to see that our local three grandkids recently got two laying hens to take care of in their back yard and to offer them some hands on experience in taking care of chickens and to appreciate where some of their food comes from.
The National Wildlife Federation’s “Be Out There” initiative promotes the following commitment for children and their parents: "I pledge to spend time outdoors every day for the health and happiness of the kids in my life."
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Why I'm Already Against The Next Violent Hollywood Movie
Most of you are probably aware of a sure-to-be blockbuster movie called “The Hunger Games” that was just released this weekend, a film based on Suzanne Collins’s extremely popular book series (30 million copies) about children and teens forced to hunt and kill other kids for sport.
In Collin's fictional trilogy about a post-apocalyptic North American nation of Panem, the sadistic powers-that-be require each of their twelve districts to send one boy and one girl between the ages of 12 and 18 each year to take part in The Hunger Games, a fight to the death that is portrayed on the nation’s live television, and which all citizens are forced to watch. The victor of the competition gets to enjoy, as his or her reward, a life of relative ease that’s free of poverty and starvation, hence the name The Hunger Games.
The movie has a PG-13 rating, meaning that teens will have no trouble getting into theaters to watch it, which millions of them will almost certainly do. What they will see, some will argue, is the teen heroine as victim of a brutal and oppressive system she is bent on combating with every means possible, including countering with violence.
Meanwhile, another recently released movie, "Bully,” a documentary by producer Lee Hirsch and the Bully Project, is about kids sadistically hurting each other in everyday real life, right in our own schools and neighborhoods. This one has been given an R rating, meaning that the very teens and children portrayed in it are not supposed to see it.
Is this ironic or what? And is there a link between our children being exposed to unremitting violent entertainment in theaters--and on their home computer and television screens--and their treating each other in sadistic and cruel ways?
When will we all just rise up and say “enough already” to all forms of brutality?
In Collin's fictional trilogy about a post-apocalyptic North American nation of Panem, the sadistic powers-that-be require each of their twelve districts to send one boy and one girl between the ages of 12 and 18 each year to take part in The Hunger Games, a fight to the death that is portrayed on the nation’s live television, and which all citizens are forced to watch. The victor of the competition gets to enjoy, as his or her reward, a life of relative ease that’s free of poverty and starvation, hence the name The Hunger Games.
The movie has a PG-13 rating, meaning that teens will have no trouble getting into theaters to watch it, which millions of them will almost certainly do. What they will see, some will argue, is the teen heroine as victim of a brutal and oppressive system she is bent on combating with every means possible, including countering with violence.
Meanwhile, another recently released movie, "Bully,” a documentary by producer Lee Hirsch and the Bully Project, is about kids sadistically hurting each other in everyday real life, right in our own schools and neighborhoods. This one has been given an R rating, meaning that the very teens and children portrayed in it are not supposed to see it.
Is this ironic or what? And is there a link between our children being exposed to unremitting violent entertainment in theaters--and on their home computer and television screens--and their treating each other in sadistic and cruel ways?
When will we all just rise up and say “enough already” to all forms of brutality?
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Would Jesus Spank?
Since Jesus had no biological children, we seldom think of him as a model for parenting. But he did effectively mentor twelve young followers with the kind of assertive toughness and tenderness we could all learn from, and shows a great deal of concern for the wellbeing of the young, as follows:
1) Jesus gives high priority to children and condemns in the strongest possible terms anyone causing harm to an innocent child.
2) Jesus affirms the teachableness, defenselessness and dependency of children as models adults need to emulate.
3) Jesus teaches by example, explains things by using simple illustrations, meets his followers' needs, shows them honor and respect, prays for them, answers their questions, engages them in ongoing conversations and is assertive in confronting them as needed.
4) Jesus corrects by word and by reproof, not with any form of physical force. He nowhere advocates the use of a rod or any form of physical beating for anyone of any age.
5) Jesus’s teaching about dealing with someone who commits a wrong (Matthew 18:15-17) can serve as a model for correcting behavior at all ages:
a) Appeal to the offending person respectfully and in private.
b) Address the issue (the fault) rather than attack or put down the person.
c) Appeal for change rather than simply administer punishment.
d) Take another with you if necessary to appeal for a change of heart and behavior.
e) As the ultimate sanction, remove the offender from fellowship with the rest of the family or faith community (a form of time out!) until the misbehavior is acknowledged and corrected.
So how do you think Jesus would parent?
1) Jesus gives high priority to children and condemns in the strongest possible terms anyone causing harm to an innocent child.
2) Jesus affirms the teachableness, defenselessness and dependency of children as models adults need to emulate.
3) Jesus teaches by example, explains things by using simple illustrations, meets his followers' needs, shows them honor and respect, prays for them, answers their questions, engages them in ongoing conversations and is assertive in confronting them as needed.
4) Jesus corrects by word and by reproof, not with any form of physical force. He nowhere advocates the use of a rod or any form of physical beating for anyone of any age.
5) Jesus’s teaching about dealing with someone who commits a wrong (Matthew 18:15-17) can serve as a model for correcting behavior at all ages:
a) Appeal to the offending person respectfully and in private.
b) Address the issue (the fault) rather than attack or put down the person.
c) Appeal for change rather than simply administer punishment.
d) Take another with you if necessary to appeal for a change of heart and behavior.
e) As the ultimate sanction, remove the offender from fellowship with the rest of the family or faith community (a form of time out!) until the misbehavior is acknowledged and corrected.
So how do you think Jesus would parent?
Monday, January 23, 2012
Can't We Just Let Children Have Fun?
Tom Farrey, ESPN correspondent and author of “Game On: The All-American Race to Make Champions of Our Children,” spoke at Bridgewater College last fall on some of the consequences of increased emphasis on competitiveness in children’s sports.
He is concerned about parents becoming too pushy about winning games, and about children becoming too stressed and anxious as a result. He believes today's focus on performance and on playing sports other than just for fun and enjoyment has led to more youth being left out, which in turn results in more obesity and inactivity on their part. And because of all the costs associated with organized sports for children--involving lots of money for uniforms and endless trips to practices and games--children from low-income or single-parent homes are especially likely to be excluded.
Some of the emphasis on early competitive sports, he believes, is the insanely high salaries paid to major league players, and the false hope on the part of some parents that their child will grow up to be a star athlete. But of the more than 7,600 children that have played in the Little League World Series, he says, only 34 have ever made it to the major leagues. Early success in a sport rarely leads to a successful career in that sport, he notes.
Meanwhile, what are our children missing by not having the opportunitues to organize more of their own games and enjoying more of their own creative fun, rather than being pushed into sports activities that are geared more to the aspirations of parents than those of their offspring?
He is concerned about parents becoming too pushy about winning games, and about children becoming too stressed and anxious as a result. He believes today's focus on performance and on playing sports other than just for fun and enjoyment has led to more youth being left out, which in turn results in more obesity and inactivity on their part. And because of all the costs associated with organized sports for children--involving lots of money for uniforms and endless trips to practices and games--children from low-income or single-parent homes are especially likely to be excluded.
Some of the emphasis on early competitive sports, he believes, is the insanely high salaries paid to major league players, and the false hope on the part of some parents that their child will grow up to be a star athlete. But of the more than 7,600 children that have played in the Little League World Series, he says, only 34 have ever made it to the major leagues. Early success in a sport rarely leads to a successful career in that sport, he notes.
Meanwhile, what are our children missing by not having the opportunitues to organize more of their own games and enjoying more of their own creative fun, rather than being pushed into sports activities that are geared more to the aspirations of parents than those of their offspring?
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Twinspeak
Near the end of a recent eight-hour return trip to their Rochester, NY, home, our daughter had the following conversation with their six-year-old son about his younger twin siblings. At four months of age, they were doing their usual "talking" and making baby sounds to each other.
“What do you think they're saying?” daughter asked.
“Let me listen,” the first grader offered. After taking some time to do this, he reported, “Mom, they’re saying they’re really tired of being in their car seats and want to be held.”
“Well, tell them we’re almost home, and we'll have them out of their seats real soon.”
“But, Mom, there’s a problem. I understand their language, but I can't speak it!”
A little later, though, John did try to address them in their "twinspeak" language. At which point they became completely silent, as if to say, “How dare you break into our private conversation?”
So much of what infants know and feel remains a mystery, but all of us wish we could understand more of what’s going on in their rapidly developing minds. I’m sure they are absorbing far more from us than we realize.
“What do you think they're saying?” daughter asked.
“Let me listen,” the first grader offered. After taking some time to do this, he reported, “Mom, they’re saying they’re really tired of being in their car seats and want to be held.”
“Well, tell them we’re almost home, and we'll have them out of their seats real soon.”
“But, Mom, there’s a problem. I understand their language, but I can't speak it!”
A little later, though, John did try to address them in their "twinspeak" language. At which point they became completely silent, as if to say, “How dare you break into our private conversation?”
So much of what infants know and feel remains a mystery, but all of us wish we could understand more of what’s going on in their rapidly developing minds. I’m sure they are absorbing far more from us than we realize.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Vernon Zehr 1934-2011
Our brother-in-law Vernon Zehr died Sunday at age 77 in Greenwood, Delaware. His obituary appears in today's Daily News-Record.
One of the many blessings of being married to Alma Jean has been inheriting 14 (yes, fourteen) wonderful in-laws, and Vernon, married to my wife’s next older sister Freda, was one of our favorites. They spent most of their adult lives in Wilmington, Delaware, where Vernon served in a dual role as a pastor and a special education teacher (and later principal).
As my wife commented to me this morning, there was so much of Jesus in this man. He loved everybody, reached out to the under served and ignored, saw every human being as special, wasn't afraid to question the religious establishment, and was as friendly, open minded and open hearted a man as one could find anywhere.
One of his nieces, Mary Ann Yutzy, daughter of another of my wife’s sisters, posted this on her blog Sunday in memory of her beloved uncle. I asked her permission to share this excerpt, which captures so well the kind of person he was:
I remember one time when Uncle Vernon and Aunt Freda come to visit us, and I was in the throes of young adolescence ('Addled Essence" would be more accurate, to be sure!). My hair was a mess, and my dress was dirty. I had been trying to clean up the kitchen, and I was talking to Uncle Vernon. We stored the frying pan in the oven at our house (Still do in my house, to this day!) But I had put a cake in to bake just a little before, and it was almost done. I was talking animatedly to Uncle Vernon, who always engaged me in conversation, and without thinking, I grabbed the frying pan and put it into the oven without looking, right on top of that almost baked cake. I felt an unfamiliar thud and then I looked in disbelief at the flattened and scrunched cake.
My Sweet Mama was not happy with me for ruining the cake. We had plans to use it for a dessert the next day that is similar to Cherry Delight. The only difference is that you use the baked cake as the bottom layer instead of a graham cracker crust. It was all the rage back then, and I am pretty sure that Mama was expecting company for lunch the next day. I don't know what she must have thought, but it WAS a result of not paying attention. (Something I was, unfortunately, quite famous for. Still am.) Uncle Vernon and Aunt Freda were the current company, though and so she didn't scold me too hard. But I felt awful, and I cried. We tried hard to repair and salvage, but it was still rather sorry looking.
Later, I was back in the kitchen, and Uncle Vernon came up to me and said, "Mary Ann. Come here." He took me to where our living room and dining room met, where there was a large, full length mirror, and positioned me in front of it. "Take a good look," he said. I did. Didn't particularly like what I saw, either. "What do you see?" he asked.
It really wasn't much to look at. My hair was stringy, falling down over my face. I reached up and tried to tuck it behind my ear. My dress, made of the shirtwaist pattern of the day, was an aqua gingham, rumpled and dirty. I was dreadfully self conscious. "Um, I don't know. Me?"
"Now, Mary Ann," he instructed kindly, "I want you to straighten your shoulders. Don't slump. And I want you to smile. You can smile." He took my hands gently in his and crossed them over my tummy. "Hold your hands just so. Like that. Now look at you. I see a beautiful young lady," he said with energy, confidence and enthusiasm. "Look at you! You really are a wonderful young lady. You are intelligent and you will go far."
I looked in the mirror. I smiled at the girl in the mirror and she smiled back. I felt a surge of confidence like I had never known before. I didn't feel beautiful, but I felt capable. I knew I wasn't gorgeous. I certainly didn't have a reason to be vain, but I really did feel like I could meet the challenges of life, and that I had something to offer this old world, and it felt really, really good.
I have always blessed him for that day. It was pivotal in my life. It was many, many years before I understood how "Uncle Vernon" that was. He lived and breathed encouragement. He looked for something to praise, something to give hope, something to affirm.
I pray that part of Vernon Zehr can live on in each of us.
May he rest in peace.
One of the many blessings of being married to Alma Jean has been inheriting 14 (yes, fourteen) wonderful in-laws, and Vernon, married to my wife’s next older sister Freda, was one of our favorites. They spent most of their adult lives in Wilmington, Delaware, where Vernon served in a dual role as a pastor and a special education teacher (and later principal).
As my wife commented to me this morning, there was so much of Jesus in this man. He loved everybody, reached out to the under served and ignored, saw every human being as special, wasn't afraid to question the religious establishment, and was as friendly, open minded and open hearted a man as one could find anywhere.
One of his nieces, Mary Ann Yutzy, daughter of another of my wife’s sisters, posted this on her blog Sunday in memory of her beloved uncle. I asked her permission to share this excerpt, which captures so well the kind of person he was:
I remember one time when Uncle Vernon and Aunt Freda come to visit us, and I was in the throes of young adolescence ('Addled Essence" would be more accurate, to be sure!). My hair was a mess, and my dress was dirty. I had been trying to clean up the kitchen, and I was talking to Uncle Vernon. We stored the frying pan in the oven at our house (Still do in my house, to this day!) But I had put a cake in to bake just a little before, and it was almost done. I was talking animatedly to Uncle Vernon, who always engaged me in conversation, and without thinking, I grabbed the frying pan and put it into the oven without looking, right on top of that almost baked cake. I felt an unfamiliar thud and then I looked in disbelief at the flattened and scrunched cake.
My Sweet Mama was not happy with me for ruining the cake. We had plans to use it for a dessert the next day that is similar to Cherry Delight. The only difference is that you use the baked cake as the bottom layer instead of a graham cracker crust. It was all the rage back then, and I am pretty sure that Mama was expecting company for lunch the next day. I don't know what she must have thought, but it WAS a result of not paying attention. (Something I was, unfortunately, quite famous for. Still am.) Uncle Vernon and Aunt Freda were the current company, though and so she didn't scold me too hard. But I felt awful, and I cried. We tried hard to repair and salvage, but it was still rather sorry looking.
Later, I was back in the kitchen, and Uncle Vernon came up to me and said, "Mary Ann. Come here." He took me to where our living room and dining room met, where there was a large, full length mirror, and positioned me in front of it. "Take a good look," he said. I did. Didn't particularly like what I saw, either. "What do you see?" he asked.
It really wasn't much to look at. My hair was stringy, falling down over my face. I reached up and tried to tuck it behind my ear. My dress, made of the shirtwaist pattern of the day, was an aqua gingham, rumpled and dirty. I was dreadfully self conscious. "Um, I don't know. Me?"
"Now, Mary Ann," he instructed kindly, "I want you to straighten your shoulders. Don't slump. And I want you to smile. You can smile." He took my hands gently in his and crossed them over my tummy. "Hold your hands just so. Like that. Now look at you. I see a beautiful young lady," he said with energy, confidence and enthusiasm. "Look at you! You really are a wonderful young lady. You are intelligent and you will go far."
I looked in the mirror. I smiled at the girl in the mirror and she smiled back. I felt a surge of confidence like I had never known before. I didn't feel beautiful, but I felt capable. I knew I wasn't gorgeous. I certainly didn't have a reason to be vain, but I really did feel like I could meet the challenges of life, and that I had something to offer this old world, and it felt really, really good.
I have always blessed him for that day. It was pivotal in my life. It was many, many years before I understood how "Uncle Vernon" that was. He lived and breathed encouragement. He looked for something to praise, something to give hope, something to affirm.
I pray that part of Vernon Zehr can live on in each of us.
May he rest in peace.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Human Trafficking: A Growing Form of Modern Slavery
Oh, freedom,
Oh, freedom,
Oh, freedom over me, over me,
And before I’d be a slave
I’d be buried in my grave,
And go home to my Lord and be free.
- Negro spiritual
Does “modern slavery” sound like an impossibility?
Not to a newly formed local group called the “The Shenandoah Valley Justice Initiative,” a faith-based group of modern day abolitionists committed to combating this evil, commonly referred to as human trafficking.
In the book “In our Backyard: A Christian Perspective on Human Trafficking in the United States,” author Nita Belles cites a report from the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children that more than 100,000 children are victims of this modern form of the slave trade in the US alone, and that almost all trafficked children are eventually forced into hard labor and prostitution.
Around the world, as many as 12 million children are trafficked every year, according to her research. In Mexico alone, more than 16,000 children are working in the sex trade, most of them at tourist destinations. And in Southeast Asia, at least 30 percent of sex trade workers are between the ages of 12 and 17.
Child trafficking typically begins with a stranger visiting a village and offering housing and a good-paying job in the city. In an effort to support his or her family, the child leaves and promises to send money home, only to become the victim of horrendous mistreatment and abuse.
According to Lynne Hybels, cofounder of the Willow Creek Community Church in Illinois, in an article in the June 2011 issue of Sojourners magazine, a club owner in Chicago can pick up a phone and “mail order” three beautiful girls from Eastern Europe. Two weeks later a fresh shipment of three Slavic girls will be at his club. She also cites Rachel Durchslag, director of the Chicago Alliance Against Sexual Exploitation, as saying that the average age of entry into prostitution is 14. And all of this doesn’t even begin to address the thousands of other workers around the world who earn only enough to keep them alive for one more day of work under dehumanizing conditions.
The SVJI is sponsoring the showing of the documentary “Nefarious, Merchants of Souls,” Tuesday, October 4, at 7:00 p.m. at the Potter’s House Worship Center at 1911 West Market Street in Harrisonburg (just west of Thomas Harrison Middle School).
I urge all concerned people to attend. And to invite your friends to join you.
Check out their new web site at www.valleyjustice.org, or contact them at svjiva@gmail.com (540-801-0519).
Oh, freedom,
Oh, freedom over me, over me,
And before I’d be a slave
I’d be buried in my grave,
And go home to my Lord and be free.
- Negro spiritual
Does “modern slavery” sound like an impossibility?
Not to a newly formed local group called the “The Shenandoah Valley Justice Initiative,” a faith-based group of modern day abolitionists committed to combating this evil, commonly referred to as human trafficking.
In the book “In our Backyard: A Christian Perspective on Human Trafficking in the United States,” author Nita Belles cites a report from the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children that more than 100,000 children are victims of this modern form of the slave trade in the US alone, and that almost all trafficked children are eventually forced into hard labor and prostitution.
Around the world, as many as 12 million children are trafficked every year, according to her research. In Mexico alone, more than 16,000 children are working in the sex trade, most of them at tourist destinations. And in Southeast Asia, at least 30 percent of sex trade workers are between the ages of 12 and 17.
Child trafficking typically begins with a stranger visiting a village and offering housing and a good-paying job in the city. In an effort to support his or her family, the child leaves and promises to send money home, only to become the victim of horrendous mistreatment and abuse.
According to Lynne Hybels, cofounder of the Willow Creek Community Church in Illinois, in an article in the June 2011 issue of Sojourners magazine, a club owner in Chicago can pick up a phone and “mail order” three beautiful girls from Eastern Europe. Two weeks later a fresh shipment of three Slavic girls will be at his club. She also cites Rachel Durchslag, director of the Chicago Alliance Against Sexual Exploitation, as saying that the average age of entry into prostitution is 14. And all of this doesn’t even begin to address the thousands of other workers around the world who earn only enough to keep them alive for one more day of work under dehumanizing conditions.
The SVJI is sponsoring the showing of the documentary “Nefarious, Merchants of Souls,” Tuesday, October 4, at 7:00 p.m. at the Potter’s House Worship Center at 1911 West Market Street in Harrisonburg (just west of Thomas Harrison Middle School).
I urge all concerned people to attend. And to invite your friends to join you.
Check out their new web site at www.valleyjustice.org, or contact them at svjiva@gmail.com (540-801-0519).
Friday, June 24, 2011
Blessed (and Stressed) by Autism
In recent years a nephew and a niece have each had a child with some form of autism, and close friends of ours have had a grandchild diagnosed with the disorder. In the latter case, his mother started a blog called “rainmom” on which she posted everyday episodes of her son’s problem behaviors and his difficulties with impulse control.
None of these three children have full-blown autism, as in the inability to speak or to show any kind of affection, and “rainmom’s” son exhibited some unusual abilities early on. For example, by age four he could name each of the American presidents and their wives.
His father recently wrote the following on his own blog: “When we first considered the possibility that our son might be autistic it mostly seemed like good news. We already knew that his speech was delayed, and that he seemed largely oblivious to other humans much of the time. We already knew he was beautiful and charming and that we loved him. So, at first the diagnosis ... seemed to promise answers to the questions that were bothering us, like Why? and What should we do? However, as we read more and more about autism, a dreadful prospect emerged, that his socially awkward behavior may never change...”
He offered the following suggestions for how others can be supportive:
Offer to help.
Be patient if you are told that the help you are offering is not wanted, and keep trying.
Read up on autism.
Interact with my child. But do not expect (and certainly don't demand) that he will interact with you.
Tell me that you have noticed actual, observable progress my child has made (But don’t make stuff up).
Tell me that you like my child.
Tell me about resources for the parents of autistic children you’ve heard about. But don't go on and on about them and don't get offended if I don't avail myself of them.
Offers of babysitting and suggestions of resources are always welcome.
Then he added some don'ts:
Don’t tell me that my child seems "normal" to you.
Don’t go on and on and on about every new diet, therapy, potential cause or miracle cure you’ve heard about.
Don’t assume that the things you do that endear other children to you will endear you to my child.
And don’t assume that because you know another autistic child well, that you know my autistic child in the slightest.
Our niece experienced some great examples of helpful things their church did for them. One member frequently spent time with their son during church services to give the parents a break. The pastoral team met with a consultant to learn more about autism and how the church could be more supportive. A flyer with their son's picture and some of his strengths, challenges and positive ways to interact with him was prepared for everyone in the congregation. It explained, for example, that his unusual noises in church were not intentional. The church also encouraged them to share with friends and with others in their cell group their sense of the "continual loss" autism brings to a family.
The nephew who’s the parent of an autistic child, shared the following with me in a recent email:
"Parents of recently diagnosed children should talk to other parents of autistic children about it. I had a colleague at work whose daughter was diagnosed the year before. It was very helpful to hear her perspective when I was distraught. 'It gets better,' she told me and she was right. I held on to this and to know someone else similar to me was going through the same things was immensely helpful. Find someone online, there are many support groups, ASA, etc., that can help you just when you need to talk and also to help you find resources. You will be amazed just how many people are around you are affected by autism and it can give you strength to hear their stories.
"In getting help for your child do not wait and do not be afraid to be pushy. My wife and I learned very early on that you have to be persistent and doggedly pursue services and programs for our son. Sometimes you have to be the squeaky wheel.
“And be careful about giving advice on discipline or parenting issues. Comments like ‘You just need to set some limits and be consistent!’ can be well intentioned, but to a parent can be interpreted as it being your fault. "
Hearing all this reminded me that it really does take a whole village, or a whole congregation, to raise a child. And this is especially true in the case of one with special needs.
None of these three children have full-blown autism, as in the inability to speak or to show any kind of affection, and “rainmom’s” son exhibited some unusual abilities early on. For example, by age four he could name each of the American presidents and their wives.
His father recently wrote the following on his own blog: “When we first considered the possibility that our son might be autistic it mostly seemed like good news. We already knew that his speech was delayed, and that he seemed largely oblivious to other humans much of the time. We already knew he was beautiful and charming and that we loved him. So, at first the diagnosis ... seemed to promise answers to the questions that were bothering us, like Why? and What should we do? However, as we read more and more about autism, a dreadful prospect emerged, that his socially awkward behavior may never change...”
He offered the following suggestions for how others can be supportive:
Offer to help.
Be patient if you are told that the help you are offering is not wanted, and keep trying.
Read up on autism.
Interact with my child. But do not expect (and certainly don't demand) that he will interact with you.
Tell me that you have noticed actual, observable progress my child has made (But don’t make stuff up).
Tell me that you like my child.
Tell me about resources for the parents of autistic children you’ve heard about. But don't go on and on about them and don't get offended if I don't avail myself of them.
Offers of babysitting and suggestions of resources are always welcome.
Then he added some don'ts:
Don’t tell me that my child seems "normal" to you.
Don’t go on and on and on about every new diet, therapy, potential cause or miracle cure you’ve heard about.
Don’t assume that the things you do that endear other children to you will endear you to my child.
And don’t assume that because you know another autistic child well, that you know my autistic child in the slightest.
Our niece experienced some great examples of helpful things their church did for them. One member frequently spent time with their son during church services to give the parents a break. The pastoral team met with a consultant to learn more about autism and how the church could be more supportive. A flyer with their son's picture and some of his strengths, challenges and positive ways to interact with him was prepared for everyone in the congregation. It explained, for example, that his unusual noises in church were not intentional. The church also encouraged them to share with friends and with others in their cell group their sense of the "continual loss" autism brings to a family.
The nephew who’s the parent of an autistic child, shared the following with me in a recent email:
"Parents of recently diagnosed children should talk to other parents of autistic children about it. I had a colleague at work whose daughter was diagnosed the year before. It was very helpful to hear her perspective when I was distraught. 'It gets better,' she told me and she was right. I held on to this and to know someone else similar to me was going through the same things was immensely helpful. Find someone online, there are many support groups, ASA, etc., that can help you just when you need to talk and also to help you find resources. You will be amazed just how many people are around you are affected by autism and it can give you strength to hear their stories.
"In getting help for your child do not wait and do not be afraid to be pushy. My wife and I learned very early on that you have to be persistent and doggedly pursue services and programs for our son. Sometimes you have to be the squeaky wheel.
“And be careful about giving advice on discipline or parenting issues. Comments like ‘You just need to set some limits and be consistent!’ can be well intentioned, but to a parent can be interpreted as it being your fault. "
Hearing all this reminded me that it really does take a whole village, or a whole congregation, to raise a child. And this is especially true in the case of one with special needs.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
A Four-Year-Old Talks About War
The following is a condensed version of a piece written by my wife's sister Freda Zehr of Greenwood, Delaware, describing a conversation she had some time ago with her grandson.
If only every four-year-old could be assured that there could never be a war where there were children. Meanwhile, he's just trusting that no caring, sensible adults would ever let that happen.
Dax Talks About War - Freda Zehr
My young grandson Dax saw a picture in the paper some time ago of a football star planning to enlist in the army. Evidently he had been worrying about people having to go to war and fight, so he asked, "Do soldiers just kill the bad guys?"
Without waiting for an answer, he went on, "The reason I don't want to be a soldier is because I wouldn't know who the bad guys or the good guys are, so I might shoot the wrong person. And I wouldn’t want to even shoot a bad guy, anyway.”
Then he said, reassuringly, “There is never any war in this country. It’s only over in countries where there are no children.” His voice suggested an urgent note of “I hope so, I hope so.”
He went on, “Because the reason you can't have a war where children live is because you might kill them by accident." He then added, "Oh yes, I forgot, there was a war once in this country, but that was before any children lived here, because I saw the cannon down in Harrisonburg. They shot big things out of it, but it didn’t hit any children because there were no children living here then. It was about a million years ago."
"And anyway, I could never be a soldier,” he went on, “because you have to have millions of money to fly over in those jets and I don't have any money, and daddy and mommy don't have enough money for me to do that. Besides, all the wars will be over by the time I grow up, right Grandma?"
“I certainly hope so,” I said.
"And you know,” he said, “I will be too short to be a soldier when I grow up, because my mom is short and my daddy is not tall."
Meanwhile, having scanned more of the article, I told him, "Oh, here it says this man didn’t have to go to war after all. It says that he had a bad knee that got hurt in a football game."
“So I don't need to worry do I, grandma, because you have to have good knees, and I have a sore knee (no one had heard this before), and you have to have lots of money and you have to be real, real tall like Uncle Jay (who is six-foot-four) and anyway, there will never be any more wars by the time I grow up."
Later when his mother came home from work, he said, "Guess what, mommy, I don't have to go to war because I have a bad knee and when I jump on it, it hurts. Watch this, mommy, see?" whereupon he climbed up on a table and jumped off and then rubbed his knee. "See that really hurt my knee, so grandma said I don't need to go to war and be a soldier."
No one remembered ever having talked with Dax about the subject of becoming a soldier, though his parents assumed he had picked up snatches from the news and maybe from other children at day care. His mother did recall his asking about the cannon in front of the former Harrisonburg High School.
If only every four-year-old could be assured that there could never be a war where there were children. Meanwhile, he's just trusting that no caring, sensible adults would ever let that happen.
Dax Talks About War - Freda Zehr
My young grandson Dax saw a picture in the paper some time ago of a football star planning to enlist in the army. Evidently he had been worrying about people having to go to war and fight, so he asked, "Do soldiers just kill the bad guys?"
Without waiting for an answer, he went on, "The reason I don't want to be a soldier is because I wouldn't know who the bad guys or the good guys are, so I might shoot the wrong person. And I wouldn’t want to even shoot a bad guy, anyway.”
Then he said, reassuringly, “There is never any war in this country. It’s only over in countries where there are no children.” His voice suggested an urgent note of “I hope so, I hope so.”
He went on, “Because the reason you can't have a war where children live is because you might kill them by accident." He then added, "Oh yes, I forgot, there was a war once in this country, but that was before any children lived here, because I saw the cannon down in Harrisonburg. They shot big things out of it, but it didn’t hit any children because there were no children living here then. It was about a million years ago."
"And anyway, I could never be a soldier,” he went on, “because you have to have millions of money to fly over in those jets and I don't have any money, and daddy and mommy don't have enough money for me to do that. Besides, all the wars will be over by the time I grow up, right Grandma?"
“I certainly hope so,” I said.
"And you know,” he said, “I will be too short to be a soldier when I grow up, because my mom is short and my daddy is not tall."
Meanwhile, having scanned more of the article, I told him, "Oh, here it says this man didn’t have to go to war after all. It says that he had a bad knee that got hurt in a football game."
“So I don't need to worry do I, grandma, because you have to have good knees, and I have a sore knee (no one had heard this before), and you have to have lots of money and you have to be real, real tall like Uncle Jay (who is six-foot-four) and anyway, there will never be any more wars by the time I grow up."
Later when his mother came home from work, he said, "Guess what, mommy, I don't have to go to war because I have a bad knee and when I jump on it, it hurts. Watch this, mommy, see?" whereupon he climbed up on a table and jumped off and then rubbed his knee. "See that really hurt my knee, so grandma said I don't need to go to war and be a soldier."
No one remembered ever having talked with Dax about the subject of becoming a soldier, though his parents assumed he had picked up snatches from the news and maybe from other children at day care. His mother did recall his asking about the cannon in front of the former Harrisonburg High School.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
A Million-Thousand-Million Earthworms
Our six-year-old and four-year-old grandchildren could hardly wait for spring to come this year, looking forward, among other things, to helping me plant the season’s first seeds in our garden.
Today was the day. It was actually a day before the official start of spring, but the weather here along Hamlet Drive was as spring-like as one ever dream of, and before long we had two long rows of sugar snap peas and some onion sets carefully covered with humus-rich Valley soil.
That mission accomplished, for the next hour-and-a-half our Madelyne and Ian, now joined by their very active 18-month-old younger brother Keaton, amused themselves by digging around in some freshly dug garden soil and backyard compost for earthworms. You could have thought they were in Disney World, or had just discovered a back yard full of new Fisher-Price products, but here they were, delighting in earthworms.
“Look grandpa, I’ve found a million-thousand-million of them!” Ian, the four-year-old, exclaims.
Life doesn’t get much better than that, seeing your grandchildren relishing simple pleasures like kneeling in some good dirt and enjoying a soil full of God's humble earth-workers, all devoted to making creation everywhere more fertile and productive.
It was Ian's older sister, at five, who told me last summer, after helping me harvest some of the vegetables we all enjoy, “You know, grandpa, I don’t think I’ll go to college when I grow up.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Well, I already know how to do so many things, I don’t think I’ll have to go to college.”
“So what would you like to do when you grow up?” I asked.
“I’m going to be a ‘nature helper,’” she said. “I want to teach people about nature.”
I’m sure she’ll change her mind many times between now and when she gets through high school, but if she were to be able to fulfill her dream of being a “nature helper,” even without going to college, I would feel truly blessed.
Today was the day. It was actually a day before the official start of spring, but the weather here along Hamlet Drive was as spring-like as one ever dream of, and before long we had two long rows of sugar snap peas and some onion sets carefully covered with humus-rich Valley soil.
That mission accomplished, for the next hour-and-a-half our Madelyne and Ian, now joined by their very active 18-month-old younger brother Keaton, amused themselves by digging around in some freshly dug garden soil and backyard compost for earthworms. You could have thought they were in Disney World, or had just discovered a back yard full of new Fisher-Price products, but here they were, delighting in earthworms.
“Look grandpa, I’ve found a million-thousand-million of them!” Ian, the four-year-old, exclaims.
Life doesn’t get much better than that, seeing your grandchildren relishing simple pleasures like kneeling in some good dirt and enjoying a soil full of God's humble earth-workers, all devoted to making creation everywhere more fertile and productive.
It was Ian's older sister, at five, who told me last summer, after helping me harvest some of the vegetables we all enjoy, “You know, grandpa, I don’t think I’ll go to college when I grow up.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Well, I already know how to do so many things, I don’t think I’ll have to go to college.”
“So what would you like to do when you grow up?” I asked.
“I’m going to be a ‘nature helper,’” she said. “I want to teach people about nature.”
I’m sure she’ll change her mind many times between now and when she gets through high school, but if she were to be able to fulfill her dream of being a “nature helper,” even without going to college, I would feel truly blessed.
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