Goodness, as if talking about racism and privilege and protests and rights and equality and riots isn’t hard enough for adults… where do you begin with your 7 year old? Her mouth dropped open when I told her about George Floyd and the atrocity that happened and the why behind it… and I know her shock is proof of privilege.
We talked about how she will hear about people protesting— and how all people have the right to peacefully protest. To let their voices be heard. To make signs and march and tell the world that something is wrong and that things need to change. She asked if protests make windows smash. And that led to tricky conversations about what riots are. And I told her that just because riots happen, that doesn’t change the fact that all people have the freedom of speech and right to protest.
I loaded the dishes in the dishwasher, noticing my girl had gotten out a marker and construction paper. She came to me once she was done.
“It’s my sign, momma,” she said.
“What is it that you don’t want?” I asked, reading her print.
“I don’t want meanness. It’s wrong to be mean like that to people, and I don’t want it. So I made a sign to let people know.”
Oh girlie. I pray you will always use your words and have a heart to speak up to stop the meanness around you.
If only everyone was so brave.
If only everyone in my generation and your generation and all the ones to come look at what has happened and is happening, declare “we don’t want it,” and do something about it.
Song on repeat this week:
Because the world groans. The world weeps. And He is still worthy.
I’ve been in the world of persuasion and debate a LONG time.
I debated in high school and college. I started traveling as a debate judge and coach in grad school as a part of my teaching assistantship. I continued traveling as full-time college faculty member, and was the faculty advisor for our intercollegiate debate association. I have taught public speaking on the collegiate level— which included large units on persuasive discourse. And I have continued to teach debate in my community to high schoolers while I educate my own children, and run a business from home.
Added up, that’s going on 20 years of experience— over half of my life. And while there are people who have definitely done debate longer and have a more impressive persuasive CV, I don’t consider myself a stranger to things such as analyzing persuasive communication and wading through research and statistics to create a perspective.
The purpose of this post isn’t to convince you that our current situation is overhyped or not being presented as dire enough. The purpose is to get you to consider the information that you are absorbing by asking it some pretty important questions before “accepting” information as evidence of what is true.
Before we continue, a word about truth.
At the risk of sounding “postmodern” (for those who view that scary), can we all agree that NO ONE knows what the truth really is in this situation— and maybe any situation? The experts don’t know, the law makers don’t know, the press doesn’t know. You and I definitely don’t know. We don’t really know how the virus works, who it will affect, why some countries are hit super hard and others aren’t. We don’t know how long it is going to stick around. We don’t know how many people have it, how many don’t, how long it has really been here. We don’t know how it will affect our economy long-term… or how it will affect our own little family units. We don’t know.
We predict, project, and speculate. And then predict, project, and speculate some more.
And then we all act on those predictions, projections, and speculations— you. Your family. Your community. Your country.
So, I’d say it’s pretty important that we hold the information we are using to gauge our actions to a pretty high test, since it affects our actions so significantly.
“But the statistics!,” you might be saying. “Numbers don’t lie!,” you might argue.
Oh, if only THAT were true.
Anyone who has worked with numbers and heard statistics regularly knows that there is always another way to crunch the numbers. There is always another valid statistic out there that can argue the opposite of the position that is “proven” by other numbers. Once you really start realizing how fallible numbers and the interpretation of them can be, you really start questioning how anyone can prove anything. (It goes to show you that believing a certain statistic over another contradicting one is an act of faith versus one of logic in a lot of instances. But that’s another post for another time.)
To paraphrase, lots of people have the pretense of knowledge— but we are lacking in actual wisdom.
With that, let’s me jump into some pretty important questions you should be asking to any post, article, news story, graph, chart, etc., that you are seeing right now.
Who is telling me this information, and what do they profit by giving it to me?
Is the information being presented ethically?
The answers to these questions are telling, and should affect how much “space” you give these sources in your head and in your decision-making.
First, who is telling me this information and what do they profit?
This lesson is one of the first ones I teach when I start teaching my students how to find and use evidence. If the source you are drawing from profits from you believing their information— in power or money— you should take their data with a pretty big grain of salt.
Does this mean that they will be inaccurate and that the information is always false? Not necessarily. But the more that they profit, the more you should question the accuracy. The bigger the profit gain or loss, the bigger the incentive to coerce information to their perspective. Ask yourself if other, less-biased sources have similar findings.
Something to consider is that, in times of crisis, both the mainstream press and the political arena are good at profiting off of extremes— making something seem way worse or way better than it is. Why? Because extremes grab exposure. Headlines never say, “Nothing to see here.” There is both power and money in widespread capturing of people’s attention. We have seen this time and time again.
A question to ask would be, is this happening now?
Who are you getting the most of your information from? How much of the information are they actually giving you? Do they give you a few soundbites, and spend the rest of the time interpreting parts of the whole? What is the purpose of their message?
What emotional, versus logical, response is it asking you to have?
That leads us to our second main question.
Is the information being presented ethically?
Your follow up question might be, “how would I know?” If the article is asking for an emotional response over a logical one I mentioned above, that is a pretty big giveaway.
If a story, etc., is laced with emotionally-charged language, little red flags should be going off. Unless it is labeled as an opinion piece or a human interest story, we should see be seeing denotative language over connotative.
The source definitely should not be employing questionable propaganda tactics to lead their audience to a polarizing “us vs. them” conclusion by the end of their article.
As a small tangent, let’s talk a second about propaganda. Propaganda itself isn’t a bad thing. It’s neutral. You can use it for bad or for good— but it IS a PERSUASIVE tool, not an informative one. Also, there are many types of propaganda, but two are universally seen as unethical, although many are neutral. Those two questionable kinds are name calling and card stacking.
Name calling is intentional use of offensive names or language to win an argument. Card stacking is a purposeful manipulation of the audience perception of an issue by emphasizing one side and repressing another.
Both of these can be outright or implied, but if they are in an article, you should definitely begin to question the legitimacy of the message they are asking you to accept.
How do we apply this in this situation?
Does a news source you are reading call— or even imply— that anyone that disagrees with it is absurd or immoral in some way? Are they purposefully repressing and disregarding anyone that might think differently?
I *know* I have seen these tactics from both sides over the past week or two. People even suggest that society should open up soon, and they are cast as money-grubbers, willing to sacrifice the elderly on the alter of our economy. On the opposite side, people who are advocating for shelter-in-place or more stringent social distancing are portrayed as weaklings who are willing to rip up our rights as Americans and gladly become a communist country.
I would like to say that my language in the above paragraph is exaggerated for dramatic effect, but I’ve basically read those very words recently. I have seen them implied WAY more— not just in the comment sections of people’s posts— but by people and entities that are supposed to be representing facts.
Those sources cannot claim to be unbiased in their reporting while simultaneously using questionable propaganda techniques to help support their conclusions. But they are.
What’s worse? These articles are being shared. And shared. And shared again.
There’s one more facet to this “ethics” question that I’m going to mention here.
Let’s go back to debate.
While making and arguing cases and points, good debaters use a lot of evidence. Some of it can get deep and honestly, hard to listen and process— which can be a problem when you are wanting a judge to understand your point at one listening. So, debaters do this thing called “tagging evidence.” Basically, it’s a one sentence summary of what the judge can expect to hear in the evidence coming up. Think of it like the evidence’s thesis statement, if you will.
Now, here’s the thing. Some debaters want the judge to believe something, but can’t quite find the data to prove exactly what they want the judge to believe. So, they will mis-tag the evidence, with the hope that the judge will write down and accept the tag without actually analyzing the data in the evidence itself. It’s definitely a no-no in debate, and the other side can call out the misidentification and call into question the ethos of the team using those tactics.
So why risk this credibility blow?
Because a lot of times, it isn’t caught by the opposing team or the judge. The team gets away with it and might even win the round because of it.
What is very frustrating to me is that I see this “mis-tagging” happening over and over and over in news articles. The titles of the articles have this attention-grabbing “fact” in it… but when you click the article and read it? You find the information in many articles don’t actually say what the title suggested it should. You realize that the article includes disclaimers and details that neutralize the sensationalism that the headline suggests.
We don’t realize that right now, we are in the middle of a huge debate round as well as pandemic. We are the judges, listening to evidence come at us in such uncomfortable speeds by people who want us to believe them, that we just remember the “tags,” and don’t have time to dive deep into the details of all the information being shared with us. So, we use the tags to convince us, one way or the other, of which side to believe.
And ultimately, which side to act on.
There’s so much more I actually want to say, but heavens. This post is already a novel.
We are living in a time where it is easy to grow fear— of the unknown or of a virus or of losing jobs and freedoms. Our fear actually makes it harder to analyze what we are reading and hearing, but it is more important now than ever.
I’ll be honest. I’m tempted to fear. I don’t like it when experts contradict and stats aren’t consistent, and logic isn’t easy, and people resort to name calling and card stacking to get points across.
I don’t like knowing the truth about everything that is happening, either.
But I keep coming back to some bigger truths that sooth my soul, even when nothing else makes sense. My faith grows clearer when facts become more elusive.
I know that I’m not supposed to have a spirit of fear, but of power and love and a sound mind.
Making sure that I’m reading and sharing things that are as factual, unbiased, and not needlessly creating fear is doing my part in having “a sound mind” in the middle of a restless world.
At the end of the day, I ultimately know that there is One who knows the truth about all of this. About all of everything.
And that belief in the midst of crazy provides the soundest mind of all.
And all of those things– checklists and curriculum and planning– come with small boxes to check and, often, to-do lists to do.
It would give you the impression that I thrive on details.
Confession: that’s not true.
If I get TOO locked into something, I start feeling twitchy and claustrophobic. That will eventually override my (needless) fear of not doing enough, and eventually make me cranky and shut down. If I feel like my day is a huge “DO THIS” instead of “BE THIS,” I languish.
That’s a very old word that seems a bit hyperbole-ish, doesn’t it?**
It’s not, in this case. Ha! I vascilate between all of the definitions up there. It’s pretty pathetic.
I’ve tried to talk myself out of this part of myself. But it hasn’t worked.
And you know what? Maybe it isn’t supposed to.
Maybe I’m not supposed to be a super checklist momma, as convenient as that might seem to be.
Instead, probably since my youngest was born, I’ve had to just come to terms that I have to stop being a control freak– not just over my circumstances, and my kids, but myself, too. At some point, you have to stop wasting energy to erase your weaknesses and instead, highlight your strengths.
You know what? Big picture is my strength.
And it is going “big picture” that saves my sanity a lot of times. The Big Picture showcases what is essential to me.
A brainstorming exercise that I recently did instructed me to write a list of values for my business. As I was writing them, it occurred to me that those values incapsulated 4 key areas that I wanted in EVERY area of my life, not just my business. I want these 4 things in myself, my home, and my homeschooling.
These 4 things can serve as My Right Things checklist for almost everything I want to do, and every lesson I want to teach. I’ve put them altogether in a print-off that I’m going to include on my walls in a few key locations in my home… and I’d thought I’d attach it here, in the hopes that these words resonate with any other Big Picture people.
I hope your day lets you imagine and spark imagination in others. I hope you have the opportunity to both encourage and be encouraged yourself. I hope you enjoy the power of education today– and that the knowledge you give and receive blesses you intellectually, morally, and socially. I hope you take the time to truly enjoy today and everyday by seeking pleasure within the menial, noticing the benefit of each hour, and truly finding satisfaction with the ones you share your life with.
*She drops a lot of business goodies and truth bombs in her book Boss Up! You should check it out if you are balancing momming and businessing at the same time– or thinking about it. I wish I had several of her suggestions and early business walk-thru when I went into business a few years ago. But alas. Better late than never.
**Seriously, languish is an old word. Its origins are from the 14th century and comes from the latin word, languire, and means to “fail in strength and exhibit signs of approaching death.” It was probably originally used by a mother of 13 kids at a river, who was trying to pound a stain from a loincloth against a rock while simultaneously keep her 5 kids under the age of 4.5 from drowning. The other moms around her doing the same thing overheard, quickly made the word a part of their normal vocab, and the rest is history.
But for those who might be tempted to think that homeschooling is going to keep our kids from hearing about such things and living in such a world… I’m sorry. It doesn’t work that way. This IS the world we live in. Our children will HAVE to navigate it, as much as we wish they didn’t.
It’s our job to prepare them, not isolate them.
So, I’m not homeschooling my kids because I’m going to shelterthemfromallthethings.
I’m homeschooling them to prepare them uniquely– unique to my children. Unique to their gifts and abilities and our values as a family. That includes our faith of course; but it also includes…
our emphasis on loving story–the reading, writing, and telling.
appreciating and participating in music and arts. (There is a LOT of value in STEM, but I feel like the cutting/deemphasizing of creative arts is not good.)
lots of freeplaying and crafts/hands-on to help absorb big Truths and details alike
I’ve taught on the high school and college levels since 2005 (whhhhuuuutttt?! Pardon me as I ignore the fact that was 14 years ago!), and have noticed the trend to assess and test the love of education right out of students, and honestly, I have no desire for that to be true of my children. The students that succeed the most on the upper high school levels and in college are the ones who are still curious– that still ask questions and DARE TO GET IT WRONG in order to actually learn and explore, not just memorize to get right.
I want my kids to be prepared for life, not just a test.***
But I digress.
As a Christian homeschooling mom, I have made a choice that most people in my circles would squint at: I’m homeschooling and choosing to use a “declared-secular” curriculum as the major spine of our school year.
It will serve as our major science, nature study, language arts, and math/art study this year, as well as be a component of social studies.
Does it use living books and resources? Yes, and I LOVE that.
Do those living books and resources sometimes include evolutionary thought? Sometimes, yes.
In fact, one of the first science lessons is about teaching the principle that “everything on Earth, including us, come from the same material.” The major premise behind is “evolutionary” because of Big Bang Theory… but you know what? I don’t disagree with the lesson. Everything on Earth, including us, does have the same Origin, doesn’t it? We are all made of the same elements because our Creator made us with the same material. I can teach the lesson and talk about Divine Design.
So why not just go with a curriculum that I don’t have to tweak along the way here and there? Because this particular curriculum is constructed beautifully with 6 different areas to adapt the lesson depending on the type of day you want, or the learners you have. The ideas are living book based, hands-on, creative, thinking, and exploring… and frankly, I haven’t seen a non-secular curriculum have the options that this one does. Maybe one day there will be (my husband has even mentioned maybe I should do it), but I don’t have time to create it from scratch right now. So I will buy a great tool and tweak and/or omit here and there.
I will also admit that I find it interesting that so many things that are “secular” have a lot of Truth in them… because I don’t think people can escape Truth has much as they want to and think they can. (It’s true in Story, and it’s true in science.)
I’m not afraid to go with secular because, ultimately, I don’t think that the curriculum will be doing the brunt of educating my children.
The person–and perspective of the person– guiding children through their learning is the most important.
That’s us, whether we are homeschooling, or sending our kids to school.
We are the ultimate guides.
And as long as we make sure our hearts are in tune with Truth, and that our perspective is on what is really important, we don’t have to fear all.the.things.
We can rest, and have joy in the journey and in the road of learning we take with our children.
***Now, that’s not to say that I think that everyone who goes to public or private schools are doing it “wrong.” Not at all! Each family has to choose what’s right for each kid and for their family as a whole, and there’s a LOT of components in that decision-making process.
My observations are mine, and they shape my decision for my kids and family and what I think is best for them now. If my husband and I need to re-access in the future, we will.
So, I’m in the middle (chapter 10, to be precise) of reading Sarah Mackenzie’s The Read-Aloud Family. And by “reading,” I mean “listening.” Ironically, the only way I can read right now is to be read-aloud to myself. 🙂 I much prefer reading an actual book. I love underlining and circling and underlining and dog-earring. I love writing my thoughts and mini-essays in the margins. I process and remember so much better that way.
But after going through a LOOOOONG season of not reading much of anything besides board books and debate briefs, I decided a subscription to Scribd was a small price to pay for my own mental health and investment in mother culture.
I have no regrets.
There are lots of great parts in Read-Aloud that I wish I had pushed the “bookmark” button for, but didn’t get to, (alas, the downfalls of listening and driving…) but this one I managed to scramble and tap the small icon before it moved on too much past the thought.
Mackenzie is quoting children/YA author, Katherine Paterson, when she writes,
“When I write a story it is not an attempt to make children good or wise. Nobody but God can do that, and even God doesn’t do it without the child’s cooperation. I am trying, in a book, to simply give children a place where they can find rest for their weary souls.”
These three sentences sponsored several thoughts.
First, I have written Christian drama, adapted books for stage, and even dabbled in children’s writing myself–although I want to do more. I have personally felt the conflict of wanting to make the best decision for the story, and the expectations of a conservative Christian audience to insert clear black and white messages and even work in a salvation prayer or a character hug somewhere. But you and I know that life isn’t like that. It isn’t black and white. We don’t know all the answers. And I don’t know why writers are expected to inject all of that in a play that’s 90 minutes long, or a story that’s barely 10 pages (in the case of a child’s picture book). I mean, we aren’t all script writers for Full House, you know?
Second, I love the implication here that, just like we shouldn’t expect an author to shoulder the burden of “making children good or wise,” we CAN expect THE Author to do that. I believe that each story has the Gospel in it– Creation can’t escape it. Every time a story has good triumph over evil… every time sin has a consequence… every time a character struggles to make the right choice… every time a princess is rescued or ANYONE is rescued– that’s Gospel. That’s Truth. That’s the Story that is inscribed on our hearts. I believe God can and does use story–all of it– to impress Truth on us. That’s His Craft. His Business. His Work.
The third thought Paterson’s words provoked had absolutely nothing to do with writing and everything to do with parenting. Ah, parenting. You know. That 24/7 job that, at least for me, takes 98% of my brain’s CPU when its in problem-solving mode.
I very much feel the heaviness in my heart when my children do things they aren’t supposed to do. The problem isn’t that they are “misbehaving” or “acting their age.” Children do silly things, have maturing brains, etc., etc. I get that.
My thing is, so often, I have a hard time discerning if something is “just a phase,” or the beginning of a horrible character flaw and sin habit. The first possibility requires more patience than anything else. The second requires intentional consistency that is exhausting, but necessary.
Unlike bookwriting, parenting does have more of a goal and obligation of imparting goodness and wisdom in their children. It is the parents responsibility to take care of their specifically-given children, unlike an author that writes for an age-group of people they don’t personally know.
But here is where I think the quotation hits home. Literally.
Like a story, I can’t make my children good and wise. I can’t. Sure, I can *try.* Sure, I can encourage it and make choices that help deposit those things in the heart of my children. And sure, I can do my best to NOT GET IN THE WAY of goodness and wisdom taking root. But the burden of squeezing in all goodness and wisdom in my children in the 18 years I have them? I can’t do that.
But you know what? Making my children good and wise isn’t my job. Because “nobody but God can do that.” And Paterson is also right– God waits for cooperation. A willingness. He waits for me– and will wait for my children– to come to Him, after feeling the tug and persuasiveness of His Love and Truth and promise of Rest.
And that leads us to the end of the quotation: “I am trying, in a book, to simply give children a place where they can find rest for their weary souls.“
Recently, I have been full of my own wonderings of “what should I do?!” as a parent. I don’t want to under-react or over-react, so I don’t know how to ACT at all.
But when I heard this quotation, it was like a little light went off in my head and heart.
What if I tried, in my home, to simply give children a place where they can find rest for their weary souls. That was it. To offer rest.
So when drama happens? Offer rest.
When they are tired? Offer rest.
When they are sad? Offer rest.
When they don’t know what to do? Offer rest.
And we might think to ourselves, “how much rest do they really need? How ‘weary’ can a 3 year old be?” (Or a 6 year old or 10 year old or 13 years old or 35 year old… <<ahem>>)
But weariness affects our children just as much as it affects us. They have their version. We have ours.
And in our weariness, what do we want most?
And think about it. Isn’t it life-Rest and soul-Rest that draws us to Jesus?
So, it makes me wonder. What would happen if I stopped trying so hard to “make” my children good and wise, and instead, focused on making a home that invited them to experience True rest?
Wouldn’t I be inviting them to Jesus?
Wouldn’t I be ushering them to the One who CAN make them Wise and Good and Whole and Well?
And in focusing on Rest for them, an interesting thing happens.
I would like to say that “in everything, I give thanks.”
But both heaven and my husband know that’s not true.
I’m the solve-a-problem-by-preventing-it type… which means you actually have to pre-think problems in your head to solve them before they start. I am fairly decent at doing this for the day-in, day-out stuff. Packed diaper bags. Pre-snacked children. Plenty of gas in the car. Electronic tickets screen-shot vs. trusting wifi to open the email when I need them.
I’ve saved myself a lot of angst with this pre-thinking thing I do.
But you see, this Forethought Super-power comes at a price.
It requires I focus on the “bad” more than the “good.” The negative “what-if.”
And often, it’s hard to be thankful for bad.
This labeling of something “bad” assumes, of course, that you actually know what “bad” is… but can we all admit that we have a hard time knowing which is which sometimes? Things that look bad on the surface can actually be good… and the assumed good can sometimes be bad. And then there’s a whole bunch of morally gray areas in life that no one can really pin down this side of heaven.
But in this verse? There is no question.
Give thanks to the Lord for He is good.
What He does is good.
We agree with that in the pews on Sunday and some people give a hardy “amen,” but can we all also admit that it’s hard to reconcile that with junkie stuff that happens? When tragedy strikes? When betrayals hit close to home? When sickness sweeps in? When fear takes hold? When loved ones die?
I’ve never been one to question God’s power.
But I’ll fully confess to questioning His Goodness. More times than I care to admit.
But last night, as I read this verse, something struck me.
It’s easy to read the phrases of this passage all disjointed and disconnected… like David was just sitting there going, “this truth sounds good. Oh, and this truth sounds good. I’ll just smoosh them together in a verse, I think.”
That’s not the way poetry— specifically Hebrew poetry— works. There is parallelism and cause and effect. We see that all over the psalms.
So here we go.
Give thanks to the Lord.
Because He is good.
Because *His love endures forever.*
We like to believe that the love on this earth is eternal, don’t we? I say to my husband and my children “I will always love you” and I mean it more than I mean anything. I can’t imagine the love I feel for them breaking. My heart may break in the loving, but my love? Surely, that will be steadfast.
We want that to be true with every fiber of our beings; but there are no guarantees with love or life. Whereas I believe that love is a choice, and we need to choose it every day, and we will always keep choosing it… the fact of the matter is, we do stop loving sometimes. We claim to love people, but hurt them. We choose ourselves over the object of our love, and harm the bonds between us. We break promises. We break vows. We break hearts.
But not Him.
We can always give thanks, not because He does good (He does). Not because He is good (He is).
But because He, as Love, endures FOREVER. And forever, loves us perfectly.
With Jesus, there is no altering, when alteration finds.
I have broken places. ⠀⠀ And since you are a fellow inhabitant of earth alongside me, I can pretty much guarantee that you have broken places, too. ⠀⠀ I can pinpoint to several places as a child, as a young adult, as a wife and mother, where I felt myself snap. Felt the break in my soul. Experienced moments where I knew I wasn’t going to be the same once the acuteness of the pain subsided to an ever-present ache. ⠀⠀ God doesn’t ask us to not break. He doesn’t ask us to be self-sufficient. Nowhere in the Bible does it say “thou shalt pull up thyself with thine bootstraps.” ⠀⠀ It is the opposite. He says He will be our strength. He says He will make beauty from ashes, because He knows we will not walk this planet unscathed. At times, our hopes will burn. Our dreams will go up in smoke. Life in this fallen world will set our expectations up in flames. ⠀⠀ But our Father promises Beauty. ⠀⠀ Not just in spite of the destruction, but He will take those cinders themselves and repurpose them into an amazing gallery of Redemption and YOU will be His Masterpiece. ⠀⠀ Here is to you. Here is to me. ⠀⠀ Here’s to courage to rise from our broken places today… ⠀⠀ and everyday.
I’m having a fun event at my house tonight… I really planned it because I’ve been wanting to learn how to make homemade cheese and realized I would never do it unless I gave myself some external pressure. (Thanks grad school.)
Anyway, I am making a tomato basil salad to go with the mozzarella and thought that the variety of small tomatoes would be a good opportunity to teach my almost six year old some knife skills.
She’s doing great. I’m right beside her, giving her instruction. She’s enjoying herself, and begins talking about the different tomatoes.
“This one is long and skinny and yellow,” she says. She cuts it and puts it in the bowl.
“This one is red. And it is really round,” she says. She puts it in the bowl. “It is like you. You are round, too.”
Enter that wave of shame.
Those of you who have always struggled with your weight are familiar with this feeling. It’s a horrible companion. It was the bully that tapped on my shoulder and called me fat before my kindergarten pictures when I was barely five. The shame made me suck in my stomach.
And I haven’t stopped feeling like I have had to suck it in and be small ever since.
With my shame present, I don’t say anything, except to place another handful of tomatoes on the cutting board.
My daughter chatters on.
“Mommy, do you ever wish you were skinny?”
I’m beginning to regret this impromptu chopping class. I was thinking the produce would be cut, not me.
I understand it is an opportunity. But it is definitely one I’m not sure how to take.
I use a cross examination tactic to buy myself a few extra seconds for my brain to process.
“That’s a really good question…” I say slowly, looking down and feeling sympathy for those slashed cherry tomatoes sitting in the bowl.
And then, words. Maybe grace.
“You see how pretty that bowl of tomatoes is? All different shapes and sizes and colors?”
I pick up an uncut round red tomato and a long skinny yellow tomato and hold them in my hands.
“These tomatoes look different, and they taste different. But God made them both beautiful and good, with their unique taste. Is the round, red tomato better than the yellow, skinny tomato?”
“No mommy. They are both tasty.”
“Right. They are both good. And then, we put all the kinds of tomatoes in the same bowl and they are even prettier and better together, aren’t they?”
“That’s how God made people. All different shapes and sizes.”
“And colors!” She interrupted.
“Yes, and colors. And He put us all together in this world, just like we put all the tomatoes together in this bowl. And all together, in all our variety, we are even more beautiful. Remember when God made us… what did He call us?”
She reaches for another tomato and cuts it and begins humming.
I place a few more tomatoes in front of her, not sure if I actually believe my impromptu tomato theology.
But in the moment, I know I have stumbled on truth.
And I hope that I will gradually come to this faith… and that my daughter will always be a believer in the beauty she was created with and in.