Good Character

Yesterday morning I woke up to Aquaphor hieroglyphics on my wall. I tried to make out some star constellations, but upon closer examination, I just found a bunch of handprints and smears.

A few hours later, one of my four-year-olds came running in from outside, shouting that he had some gum in his hair. But upon closer examination, I found that “some gum” was a bit of an understatement. He had a big pink wad that looked to be about half of a roll of Bubble Tape.

Peanut butter is a popular choice to help ease gum out of hair. But a peanut butter/Aquaphor combination works even better.

I cleaned him up and the kids went on to search and destroy as they do so well.

As a mom of three little boys, I am quite accomplished when it comes to stuff that sticks. Name a surface, any surface. Pick an instrument, any instrument. Choose a substance, any substance. I bet I have a story for you.

Was it Colonel Mustard with the glue stick on the leather ottoman?
Yes. Only it wasn’t Colonel Mustard.

I have seen more than my fair share of sticky stuff. I have cleaned up more than my fair share of sticky stuff. I have cried and yelled more than my fair share about the sticky stuff.

Because most of the time, finding sticky stuff means finding mess and destruction and exasperation and a long, hard cleanup.

One time I had to go through four different cleaning solutions and a lot of research to discover how to get Pam non-stick spray off of every surface of my kitchen, including the cabinetry, the stainless steel, and the wood floors which had turned into a large skating rink. Turns out that even the non-stick stuff still sticks.

Later in this very same gummy Aquaphory day, I discovered some other sticky stuff. But this time it had nothing to do with mess or destruction or exasperation. And this time there was no long, hard cleanup required. This time I found something sticky that was so beautiful it eclipsed all of the other not-so-beautiful sticky stuff.

I walked into our front room and stumbled across a long line of gift bags that stretched from one end of the room to the other. The boys, on another one of their rogue missions, had discovered my wrapping paper and box of gift bags. They brought out all of the bags and lined them up from one wall to the other. They filled each of the bags with their own toys. I stood there in confusion and preemptive irritation but then they explained that their gifts were for “all of the kids who didn’t have any toys.” They wanted to hand them out to anyone who might happen to come to our door. They even stood on our front porch and yelled out into the world: “Hey kids who have no toys! Come get our toys!”

What made this moment beautiful was that the boys came up with this idea without my suggestion or influence or requirement. The moment was beautiful because of its independence and spontaneity.

What made this moment a gift was that it helped me realize that the good stuff sticks, too.

Our efforts make a difference. Our efforts to plant and build and pass along important values like kindness and compassion and generosity, those efforts make a difference. Our energy makes a difference. Our energy spent trying to teach our kids how to love, how to care, and how to serve, that energy makes a difference.

Even if we don’t see those differences most of the time. Unfortunately, we have to set aside the privilege of immediate gratification. We just keep planting and building and trusting that all of that good stuff somehow sticks somewhere.

Then we wait. We wait for moments exactly like the moment I had last night.

And while we wait, we clean up the messes and the destruction and we spend a lot of time on our knees.

Because the truth is that the bad stuff that sticks can usually be washed away.

But the good stuff stays around.

The good stuff gets stashed right where we want it to be. Inside. In those tiny corners of their hearts, those unreachable, unwashable, unchangeable places where stuff stays forever. It’s the kind of stuff that forms a character and guides choices and finds the good stuff in others.

The bad stuff that sticks eventually turns into good stories.

The good stuff that sticks eventually turns into good people.

So the next time I’m trying to figure out how to remove melted crayon out of upholstery fabric or how to remove play-dough from the inside of a door lock, I’ll remember last night. The next time I’m faced with a long, hard cleanup, I’ll remember last night.

I’ll remember how my boys reminded me that if I spend all of my time on the bad stuff that sticks on the outside, I just might miss catching a glimpse of the good stuff that sticks on the inside.

KID

A couple of years ago, I read the biography of Tim Tebow, an NFL football player, former college star, and celebrity well known for his public displays of faith. Tebow’s book resonated with me, but for reasons that have nothing to do with football or even Tebow himself.

What impressed me were Tebow’s parents and how they tried to teach their sons selflessness, kindness, and humility.

One example of how they accomplished this is that they gave their sons a dollar for every time they heard another person complement their good characters.

I love this idea. And I love to see sparks of good character in kids.

Thankfully, I’ve been blessed with a lot of great precedent.

I know several young girls who grew their hair long enough (sometimes for months and even years) just so they could cut it all off and donate it to Locks of Love, a non-profit organization that provides hairpieces to financially disadvantaged children suffering from medical hair loss.

I know a young boy who helped and encouraged a very nervous six-year-old in his first ever swim relay.

My friend’s ten-year-old son discovered The Golden Egg at this year’s Easter Egg Hunt and won a gift basket full of toys, games, and candy. Immediately after being presented with it, he began to hand out items to all of the kids standing around him.

I know an eight-year-old girl who once stood up for another kid at school when everyone else was making fun of his clothes.

I know some young boys who go out of their ways to be kind to my toddlers. They take a genuine interest in whatever it is they are doing at the moment. It impresses them that someone notices them. It impresses me more.

I know several young kids who volunteer at soup kitchens and homeless shelters.

I know a young girl who held a bake sale to raise money for an animal rescue organization.

I know a nine-year-old boy who decided to donate all of his birthday gifts to Children’s Hospital.

I know kids who place flags on gravestones on Memorial Day.

Just this past weekend, a friend’s young daughter carried fruit snacks in her pocket all morning, hoping she would see my kids. A few hours later, this young girl’s older brother stopped a basketball game just to run over and invite my son to play on his team.

Every year our family forms a team at a race to support ovarian cancer research and awareness. And every year, many young kids join us to walk or run this race in honor of my mom and other survivors. It’s not just our friends that show up, their kids do too.

I knew a fifth grader who went out of his way to make my kindergartner feel important this year at school, and in doing so made him feel a little less scared.

It is by good fortune and good friendship that I know these and so many other examples of kids showing good character.

The best part is these great kids are doing these great things without prompt, without instruction, and without recognition. They are acting out of the goodness in their hearts and with the kindness, selflessness, and humility that has been passed down to them by their great parents.

This is the stuff we need to celebrate. This is the stuff that matters. This is the stuff that should make us the most proud.

Yes, we need to strive for and hone good character in our own kids. We need to emphasize it, teach the big lessons, and demonstrate by example.

But–and this is the nugget–we also need to rally around other kids too, and in the parents who have planted those important seeds.

We spend enough time in the humdrum—talking about logistics and behavior and uncertainties. We spend enough time excusing and apologizing and trying to explain. We spend enough time thinking about progress and accomplishment and comparison.

We don’t spend enough time thinking or talking about good character. And we should.

Not only because it’s a great thing to see, but also because it pushes this world in the right direction. And these little sparks are the kind of moments that assure a doubting parent that his or her best is well beyond good enough.

My six-year-old son is on a swim team. He practices early every morning and works really hard. It’s exciting to see him succeed and improve his times.

At last week’s swim meet, after one of his races, we stood at the end of the pool, bent over at him in the water shouting our attaboys. But he didn’t even acknowledge us. Instead, he immediately climbed out of the pool and sought out his friend who swam the same race. He went right up to him and said quietly, “Good job.”

It was quiet enough that no one really heard it. In fact, I’m not even sure his friend heard it. But those two words rang loud and clear to me.

In that moment, I forgot all about his swimming performance. I forgot whether it was first place or last place and whether his time was faster or slower than last week’s time.

Because in that moment, I saw a little humility and a little kindness. I saw him act on his own and from his heart. In that moment, I saw a little spark of good character.

And that little spark is priceless to me.

KID

Sticky Stuff

A Little Spark of Good Character