Monday Mantra #91
Monday Mantra #86
A Little Spark of Good Character
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
Monday Mantra #59
A New Kind of Year
For auld lang syne, my dear.
For auld lang syne.
We’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet
For auld lang syne.
I have a Kind Jar for my five-year-old son that sits on our kitchen counter. Whenever he makes a kind choice with his words or his actions, he drops a bead in the Kind Jar. For every ten beads he receives, he is rewarded with ten Skittles.
Because I believe that kindness is inherent in all good deeds, I award beads in the Kind Jar for all good choices.
There are good listening beads. There are beads for patience. There are sympathy beads. There are beads for good character and integrity. There are sharing beads. There are please and thank you beads. There are beads for respect. There are beads for words of love. There are beads for acts of love.
All of these beads are kind in the same way that all of these deeds are kind too.
Anything he does that makes my heart warm deserves a bead in the Kind Jar. Anything he does that makes me proud deserves a bead in the Kind Jar.
As a parent, kindness matters to me. In fact, there’s very little that matters more.
As a human being, kindness matters in this world. In fact, there’s very little that matters more.
This New Year’s Eve, I raise a cup of kindness in thanks for all good deeds that came my way this year.
And I make one resolution for the year ahead.
More beads in my Kind Jar.
For auld lang syne, my dear.
For auld lang syne.
We’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet
For auld lang syne.
May this new year bring you kindness. And may you bring kindness to this new year.
KID
Broken Bones and a Big Heart
I wish for no one to break any bones.
In my son’s Kindergarten class, each child thought of one Christmas wish for everyone in the world. They wrote their wishes on construction paper ornaments and displayed them in the window of their classroom.
I stood in front of that window for a long time reading each wish, all the while feeling my heart swell.
I wish for everyone to have a good family.
I wish for everyone to have toys.
I wish for everyone to have presents.
I wish for everyone to have a house.
I wish for everyone to have food.
I wish for everyone to be loved.
I wish for everyone to have a happy life.
There is something about this time of year that truly reveals the tenderness of humanity. We give toys and clothes to people who can’t afford them. We cook and buy food for people who are hungry. We donate money to charities that do the kind of work the world really needs.
There’s an upswing of do-gooding and that is certainly a great thing.
Of course, there’s the frenzy and the chaos and the surge of superficiality too.
And it’s easy to get caught up in all of the static. Or in my case, all of the plastic.
But there’s also something about this season that reminds us to take care of each other, to help each other, and to make good wishes for each other.
And we try to teach our kids to do the same thing.
We try to remind them to appreciate. We try to give them perspective. We try to open their eyes. We try to make big reveals.
We try.
But I often find myself feeling guilty that I’m not doing enough.
It’s my job to plant those seeds. It’s my job to instill that perspective. It’s my job to remind them, to reveal things to them, and to teach them what is really important.
But standing there, reading those wishes on the window, I had a big reveal of my own.
Our kids already get it.
They are born with benevolent and generous hearts. They understand compassion and kindness and good will for all. They tend toward tenderness. They are soft and sympathetic and selfless.
They want everyone to be happy. To have food. To have a home. To have a good family. To have a good life.
They get it. They don’t have the years behind them that generally earn perspective and insight, but they still get it.
They get it because they’ve always had it.
We all have always had it.
So maybe we stop trying so hard to plant the seeds. And instead we search for the good heart that’s already there in all of us.
Of course sometimes that good heart gets a little bogged down with the mud and the fluff, but it’s still there.
And that day, those kids taught me that I need to appreciate it. They gave me perspective. They opened my eyes. They made a big reveal.
That day was a gentle reminder to seek out and celebrate our good, good hearts.
So even though my kid wants Santa to bring him transformers and shrinky dinks, he also wants no one in the world to break any bones.
And that’s enough to make for a Merry Christmas all year long.
KID
To My Genies
I have three little boys. I ask for a lot of favors.
I ask for help with rides to and from school, practices and parties.
When friends go to the grocery store and call to see if I need anything, I say yes.
I quietly refrain from offering to host festivities or dinners or really anything at my house anytime, ever.
When I go out with more than one friend, I don’t volunteer to drive because I’m unwilling to wrestle and ratchet the car seats in and out of my car to make room.
Going places with any combination of my kids is tough and generally involves crying, darting and grabbing anything within arms’ length. And I’m crying, darting and grabbing too. Not so lovely. Not so fun.
And having people over at my house with any combination of my kids at home (and where else would they be?) is tough and generally involves crying, darting and grabbing anything within arms’ length. And I’m crying, darting and gabbing too. Not so lovely. Not so fun.
Maybe if I had a guesthouse or a tree house or even a tent where we could hide from the kids, I could host a holiday party. But I don’t, so I don’t.
And please don’t even get me started on the car seats. I’ve lost more than a fair share of blood, sweat, tears and fingernails over them. They are locked, loaded and not going anywhere until I know they are gone for good.
I have three little boys. I ask for a lot of favors.
But fortunately, for me, I have wonderful, generous and loving people in my life willing to do those favors. I have the friends who host the parties, carpool my kids and offer to drive to sushi. I have the friends who babysit and buy me groceries.
In fact, after our twins were born, I have a friend who, on several occasions, picked up my big kid after preschool, fed, bathed, pajama-ed, and returned him home five minutes before bedtime.
I have a friend who baby-proofed my house.
I have a friend who took my big kid out to lunch with her sons.
I have a friend who handed me up her kids’ clothes, gear and toys and saved our Christmas a few times over.
I have friends who loan me everything from Band-Aids to oregano so that I can avoid another trip to the store.
And these lovely favor givers never ask, nor expect me to settle up. They don’t count the marbles in their jars or the tallies on their sheets. They just do it out of the kindness of their hearts—those wonderful, generous and loving hearts.
So to my friends, my offerors, my heavy lifters, and the genies in my lamp, I say thanks.
Thank you for stepping in and stepping up and for never, ever keeping score. Thank you for all that you do and for not asking for anything in return.
Thank you for understanding that I might not ever be able to pay you back.
But I do promise you one thing.
I will return the favor someday to someone else.
One day I’ll be on the other side of this frenzy. My kids won’t be so unmanageable, my house will have some space and calm, and the car seats will be gone. And then the hosting and the rides and the grocery runs won’t seem so ill-fated.
When that time comes, when it’s my turn, I promise I will be a genie too. I will make the offers and I will give the rides. I will do the favors and I won’t keep score or expect anything in return.
When my time comes, surely there will be another frazzled mom who needs a helping hand. And I will be the one to step up.
But I won’t do it for her.
I’ll do it for you.
KID
Monday Mantra #43
