The Holy Handing Off

Even when I am old and gray,

do not forsake me, my God,

till I declare your power to the next generation,

your mighty acts to all who are to come.

Psalm 71:18

The deliberate making of memories is one of a grandparent's most pressing responsibilities.
It's important to understand this, or the sleepovers won't make sense.

We are deep into Christmas week at Gramma's where our normal routine of a once-a-month sleepover is in 'enhanced mode' due to:

• the school holiday, 
• it being Christmas, 
• everyone's already sugared up, 
• and this is a (reverb on) DOUBLE SLEEP-OVER!!!

The house is a happy mess of Lego and couch forts and various and other sundry modifications to help turn our space into Terabithia or Narnia or any other mythical universe worthy of the Ninja dragon-trainers that now inhabit this realm.  The readily-available healthy snack tray is topped up several times throughout the day.  The popcorn and ice cream and the slightly-above-parental-tolerance amounts of chocolate are doled out at appropriate times.  Like when watching the movie, or we've just finished lunch, or when Gramma just randomly calls out "Who wants some sugar?"

And contrary to that last confession bold statement, and to popular accusation belief, making memories with grandchildren is not just about being all spoiling and permissive and sugary.  (They actually do hear 'no' from me often enough, just ask them.)

Instead, for me, deliberate memory making is really about leaving a spiritual heritage.

To be clear, there is a high respect in play for the fact that the two families that have birthed these incredible human beings do not share exactly the same faith platform as each other.  This works for me because it is a pretty basic teaching of Christianity that God gives us choice.  So choices are respected.  Nothing is assumed or forced or judged.  And in this context, I do see the leaving of a spiritual legacy as one of the most important things I'm supposed to be doing with my life right now.  For my grandchildren especially.


Earlier in this month two of the dragon trainers participated in a piece of the Christian tradition by reading Scriptures in church, and lighting a candle of Advent.  This made my heart sing.  In the course of a casual, spontaneous conversation with another one, there was evidence of a strong tendency to critical thinking about how the world works, and a leaning toward compassion when faced with the opportunity.  This too made me revel in a moment of deep joy.



If there are deliberate memories to be made, let them be wrought from these important places.

Pause here to spin the globe.

The deliberate making of memories is one of a grandparent's most pressing responsibilities.
It's important to understand this, or the times in Thailand won't make sense.

It remains one of the biggest surprises of my life that I would be so thoroughly adopted into a family of such regal bearing as is Hot Springs.

Deep into the four-week visit last November, which, come to think of it is a (reverb on) 30 TIMES SLEEPOVER, I am offered the rich gift of being loved-on as if I was Gramma -- but have been instructed and reminded to drop the 'as if'.   So, the Gramma thing, the memory-making, leagacy-leaving thing is in play here too.

The deliberate making of memories to leave a spiritual heritage.  Yes.  That's one of the most important things I'm supposed to be doing with my life right now.  For these grandchildren as well.

So I teach when I'm there.  English yes, but also life lessons from the Christian Bible, every evening.  We learn songs with big dance-like actions that including bouncing and the waving of arms.  We bring home baby bumble bees and go on lion hunts.  We play games that reinforce an English concept or illustrate a spiritual understanding.  We recite the alphabet and months of the year and days of the week and Bible verses to encourage and inspire.

And when necessary, because these kids are human and learning and sometimes make bad choices, I participate in a corrective conversation.

But more of it is in just the being-with.  The spontaneous selfies around the fire before bedtime, the finding of a bandage for a scrape, the reading of a book, the telling of a funny story, the saying of "I love you" liberally.  It's being there to live through the messes together, the frustrations of how business is carried out on a day to day basis, the heartbreak of a place where children's rights are virtually non-existent, the despair of poverty, and the bringing of hope through the good news that Jesus offers.

There's respect here, too, for very different ways of thinking, of living, or understanding how the world works.  So much for me to learn, always.

And that's the point.


This holy handing off is a delicate marvelous thing.

Because.

There's a catch.

See actually, if I'm presumptuous enough to assume I have anything of a spiritual nature to leave to these children on both sides of the planet, it means, by default, I must be diligent about my spirit.  It requires as a necessity that I take the time to reflect inward and work on the matters of my own spiritual formation, else what can I possibly leave behind but various degrees of mess?

Because of big changes, I would have to admit that it's been a messy year inside my soul.  Perhaps that's why I'm thinking about all of this right now, in the middle of the double sleepover.  These are the last few days of a year that has provided no end of opportunities to work on patience and putting aside of self and letting go of treasured things and wrestling my ego to the ground again.  It's been grueling work and it seems like it's going to continue as something of a theme song into the new year as well.  I'm so not done this "pressing responsibility".  Not as happy a mess as the house is right now.  But equally part of the deliberate making of memories, the holy handing off of leaving a legacy.

David's prayer so long ago seems written from a grandparent's heart somehow. 

Stay close, Lord, and keep doing your work in me.  

Don't give up on me, 

until I can pass something on to the extraordinary children 

You've so lavished on my life.  

Let me be a way of seeing You at work.  

Your mighty acts.  

Your slow and quiet transformation of this still unfinished work.

Let me leave this legacy,

one inward surrender at a time.

So they can know what a good and patient and gentle God You are.

What I Simply Want For Christmas

Godliness with contentment is great gain.  

For we brought nothing into the world, 

and we can take nothing out of it.  

But if we have food and clothing we will 

be content with that.

1 Timothy 6:6-9

I won't presume to speak for all Boomers on this, but there does seem to be a dominating question for folks of my generation.

"How did we get so much stuff?"

It's in the closets and in the attics and in the basement.  Some of us even have storage units to put the stuff that won't fit in our houses.  Most of us have stuff left over from emptying our parents' houses which, come to think of it, were full of stuff.

This past year, Ken and I were tasked with emptying out the apartment of a family member who had passed away.  And in the midst of our grief and reminiscing as we packed it all up, we were also overwhelmed with the sheer bulk of it.   So! Much! Stuff!  Also, we are in process of reclaiming some family property with older buildings that are, yes. Full. Of. Stuff!

Where did it all come from?

My frequent and now longer times in Thailand only emphasize this for me. 

Here, so much stuff. 
There, not so much.

Our kids at Hot Springs are abundantly cared for, without question.  But it has very little to do with stuff.  Each child has one half of a small wardrobe to claim.  And that's all the room they need because, really, that's all the stuff they have.

And while I doubt I'll ever get my stuff down to half a wardrobe's worth, I am taking some specific steps to clear away my stuff. 

[Not books.  Books are another matter altogether, but we won't talk about that here.]

For one, especially around this time of year, I'm trying to think differently about gifting.  Particularly in how I respond when I'm asked for Christmas gift ideas for myself.

Because right now, all I want for Christmas is to send some students to university.

I'd love to see Intorn finish his degree in geological engineering (mining).  I'd love to see Miki graduate as one of only seven women in her demanding engineering program.  I'd love to help Nuch finish her degree in teaching and for Fruk to continue in his music program.  And to send Wara to Bible school next year when she finishes high school, because she wants to be a pastor.  And I want to make sure every child at Hot Springs who wants to purse education past high school has that opportunity.

This breaks the cycle of poverty.
This makes all the difference in the world.

These faces inspire me to simplify; to live into the truth of it.

Nuch

Miki

Wara

Intorn

Fruk

Aren't they amazing?  Every one of them has a story that has taken them from desperate situations into the hope of a future that is strong and brave.  Every one of them has gifts to offer to the world, and hearts full of anticipation for what they can accomplish for Jesus and for their country. 

So, all I want for Christmas is to see all of it happen for them.

And I welcome fellow simplifiers along on this journey.

Little ways - I have calendars and pashminas and other sundry items from Thailand to sell for the Hot Springs Students' Fund. 

Big ways - The total amount we need each year to pay for tuition and housing and food for all our students is $10,000.00.  That's not each, but all of them together.   A sizeable enough number, but pittance compared to what it costs to put our own university students through school.

It's not too late to simplify your Christmas with me.  Inquiries for donations to count toward 2018 income tax receipts can go to rabreithaupt@hcckw.ca.

I guess what I'm trying to do right now is invest in things my children won't have to clear out of my house one day.  Instead there will be other children, born not of my own body but from my heart, who are going to work and raising families in simpler, contentment-filled houses of shalom.