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The Little B Speaks!!
I’ve been going to a bible study for the last couple of months. We have been going through the book of Exodus. There is a story in Exodus 16 about manna. Basically, the Israelites are led out of Egypt by Charlton Heston–I mean Moses. They are wandering around the desert and get hungry. They ask God (or despairingly complain, depending on your reading) for something to eat and He gives them the manna. Manna basically means “what is it?”. This is a famous story.
Table that for a moment.
I have daughter named, Brixton. She just turned 2. She is fun. She is also quite interesting. For example, when we tuck her into bed at night, we say our prayers as part of the bedtime ritual. She likes to thank God for things like saws, and fire trucks, and jumping. It’s quite wonderful. However, in the midst of praising God for the joy she experienced while watching the garbage truck earlier in the day, she often starts naming random people that we know. More often then not, she did not see these people during the day. She randomly names them.
Our friends, the Canadians, came over for dinner recently. We were telling them how Brixton had wanted to pray for them the other day. We had assumed that this was simply her being “cute”. The Canadians, however, were floored. They explained that they were doing some serious remodeling and it was behind schedule and had become an extreme point of stress and contention in their lives.
It was interesting that, randomly, Brixton decided to pray for some people who needed it.
Table that.
Brixton has been talking for awhile now. Obviously, her vocabulary has increased exponentially over the last year or so and the way she says some words has morphed and evolved (or degraded!) as well. She has invented exactly 1 word in her life. She uses it often and in a very consistent manner.
The word she says is manna.
It’s almost like she isn’t sure how to pronounce it. (This makes sense as it is not a word that gets a lot of play around our house.) She might say: mon-ya, or man-A, or manna. But she always says it to mean “I don’t know” or “what is it”.
For example:
I might say, “Hey Brixton, who is this in the picture?”
She will look at it and then say, “Manna.”
Or she might hold up a piece of aged white cheddar flavored puffed rice and corn (Pirate’s Booty anyone?) and ask “Manna?” while pointing to it.
She has been using this word for over a year and I didn’t put it together until about 2 weeks ago. I am positive she did not learn this word by hearing us use it–which is the way she has learned every other word.
This is quite the coincidence.
Very small children are connected to the Real in a way that gets lost as we age.
We need to find it again.
On self-love, uh… not that kind.
Do we really believe that God loves us unconditionally?
I know that we do sometimes. I know that we are supposed to. And I know that we would say that we do.
But I think that, at some level, we most certainly do not believe this. In fact, it seems pretty clear to me that we actually function like we don’t and that is why it is very difficult for us to love ourselves. If we don’t think God really loves us, how could we possibly really love ourselves?
Let’s take a step back.
Love God, Love People. That is the crux of Jesus’ teachings. Sounds like a great way to live! But let’s look at the packaging of that 2nd one. Love your neighbor as yourself. Contrary to many, I would actually argue that we do that really well.
It’s no wonder the world is so screwed up; we are loving our neighbors as ourselves!
I’m reading a book by Brennan Manning called Abba’s Child. Honestly, this book wrecks me and I have to read it in very small pieces. I know I am very much the person who doesn’t love himself. Historically, I have often been discouraged and depressed that I am a pretty regular screw-up. I feel like l hold myself to impossibly high expectations of perfection that I would never impose on others (and I say this knowing it’s probably the Buddhist in me, but that’s a future post).
That, my friends, is Pride at its most insidious.
And though it isn’t often realized, Shame is Pride’s backside.
We feel Shame when we are too proud to accept our shortcomings. But accept them we must! We can’t know love until they are accepted.
And here is what I try to remember.
My Little B (my daughter Brixton for the uninformed) will always be loved by me. I know this. I am God’s Little B.
So there you have it.
My friend writes a blog on self-love that is geared toward body image challenges, so if that’s an issue for you go check it out.
Inspired to overcome
This photo is indicative of who my daughter is.
Now, as we all know, the little B has been blessed with quite the measure of cuteness, so I hope you are as lifted as we are ☺
I think that this picture also perfectly captures a display of Brixton’s unfettered joy.
Many of you probably have kids, so I’m sure these thoughts are not new to anyone but me. But, I am both inspired and troubled when I see this image.
Her wonder and amazement and excitement and gladness at being alive in this world is an incredibly powerful affecter on my own self. It brings me incredible pleasure to watch her enjoy herself and to help facilitate her interaction with the interestingness of it all.
Jesus told Nicodemus that one must be reborn in order to really experience life. For me, Brixton illustrates what that looks like. A perception of joy.
Yet, I’m troubled because she is a lot better at living than I am.
I get that I’m older and thus more experienced with suffering and sadness and pain, etc. and that this clouds and obscures my perception of reality. But I am also, at least in my mind, somewhat aware of what’s going on and with the deeper truths and concepts. I’m aware that I have done a not so great job of overcoming the world thus far. But I like to think that I’m better than I once was.
I want to spend more time engaging with the goodness of it all, like a child is able.
But, I also know that there is a duality to it as well.
The truth of the matter is that this world has problems. We have problems. I have problems. These coexist in the face of the wonder and beauty that also abounds. I’m confused about how to respond to this truth.
Is acknowledging the evil allowing it to win? An ignorance is bliss mindset seems like a winner.
(I’ve always been very confused by the creation story in Genesis. Isn’t the prevailing thought that the garden was a perfect paradise before “sin entered” when Eve ate the apple? Well, how can there be a tree offering the knowledge of good and evil if there wasn’t already evil to know about? The serpent, who personifies evil, was certainly slithering around before any apples were eaten. So evil was there… which leads to my confusion. How could Eden have been perfect when evil was right there to be found and known about? We don’t typically think of evil as being able to exist in the face of perfect goodness, which is what we like to think of the Garden, a place of perfect goodness.
But with Evil there? Please. This makes no sense. Someone, please make sense of this for me and then explain it.)
Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on the perspective, I don’t have the luxury of an ignorance is bliss mind. When I try to bury my head so to speak, I just get desperately depressed by the seeming meaninglessness of it all.
But we cannot be run down by our knowledge. We have no choice but to work toward eradicating evil, leaving only the goodness to be thoroughly enjoyed and explored like my dd Brixton. We can’t do it alone. It will take everyone, and we obviously need God’s help as this is a pretty big job with seemingly really bad odds. But I don’t see any other options, as the status quo is not acceptable, at least to me.
My favorite thing that Jesus ever said is, “Take heart, for I have overcome the world.”
I want to overcome it as well. I think joy accomplishes this.
Justin Menendez 