My son, oh my son...

Luke 18:15-17
And they brought unto him also infants, that he would touch them: but when his disciples saw it, they rebuked them. But Jesus called them unto him, and said, Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God. Verily I say unto you, Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child shall in no wise enter therein. 

Gage loves to talk. He loves to think things out and talk as he goes. Thinking out loud. I love to look at the world through his eyes. It's all fresh and new and his perspective is brutally honest.

He talks when he plays. He talks while he eats his dinner. He talks when he rides in the truck. He talks when does his homework. He talks and talks. And drives us absolutely crazy sometimes.

Being eight years old, he's actually not talked all that long. His life is still very young and short, and he enjoys the sound of his voice droning on.

When he's not talking, he is singing or making noises. He sings in the shower. He sings as he rides down the road. He sings when he goes outside to play. He sings to his dog. He sings to me. And he makes it up as he goes along.

He randomly whoops and hollers. He makes drum sound effects to go along with his pencil pecking on the table. He growls like a dog and makes squacking sounds like a squirrel (just ask his bus driver!). He can imitate me and lots of other folks, and many times can carry on a two person conversation by himself, just by changing the sound of his voice. 

He also tells funny things that he doesn't actually mean to be funny. Like telling his teacher we were going to be renting a car (we did) for a trip. It was going to be miserable because his dad is 6' 8", we

were going to be getting a VW Bettle and he was going to be squished in the backseat. His teacher and I both had a laugh over that one and his dad is 6' 2".

I have tried to jot down many of his tales, but I still have forgotten more than I remember. I post many of them on facebook, since I am a fb junkie, but I have compiled most of them into one place. Here they are and attached is also a link to previous ones as well.

More Gage-isms...

After an extremely stressful evening of disciplining our young boy, Jason looked at me and said "I have a feeling that God is laughing at us because we asked for this." 

We were picking up toys in the living room. All of a sudden, Gage opens his mouth wide and asked “how big is my uvula?” Your WHAT?! “That dangly thing in the back of my mouth, Mom! The uvula!” Good grief. I’ve learned more in the 8 yrs since I’ve had a child than in the whole 35 before he was born.

Got myself a new gown…it’s cheetah print instead of the regular pink or purple flowery ones I usually wear. Gage found me in the kitchen making coffee early in the morning with it on. After giving me a shocked look he said “That’s just ungodly.”

Gage and his cousin Justin were playing cowboys...things got quiet and I went to check on them. Justin was taped up to the chair and the chair taped to the floor...Gage had just used a 1/2 roll of masking tape in the process and said they may start playing mummy. Of course, I messed that game up real quick...and people wonder why I am satisfied with one child?!

Gage was asking Jason about a truck, and Jason told him it was “old and worn out”. Never missing a beat, Gage said, “like you and Mom. You’re old and Mom’s worn out.” Excuse me?!

“Do you know that my teacher is younger than BOTH of you? She’s only thirty-two and you all are in your forties!” Ah, that makes us feel good, son!

Gage loves to collect things. He proudly brought me a rodent skull – groundhog to be exact. After telling him to “WASH YOUR HANDS!”, I bleached and scrubbed it. It has a place of honor on the top of his bookcase, right next to the coon teeth. Doesn’t take much to make him happy.

Gage stresses over his homework and forgot to put his folder in his backpack one morning...When he got home, he informed me "this makes the third time in my career that I've forgotten." For a third grader, that’s not too bad.

Visited Gage's classroom with birthday cupcakes and was so pleased when his teacher told me how well he is doing in class. When I bragged on him and thanked him for being good, he said "I like Mrs Blair being my teacher, but she has eyes like a hawk! She can see every time we twitch!" Go Mrs Blair!

Gage was doing homework and writing sentences using his spelling words - one of which was "smooth". I looked over at his paper, and saw this sentence: I have a smooth attitude.

“Mom, what does frumpy mean?” Gage was working on spelling homework again. After I explained the definition, he wrote ‘My mom is frumpy’. I had to laugh, because that day, he was super correct.

Gage wanted to make chocolate chip muffins and informed me that he could make them himself. He did a great job…until I noticed there were no chocolate chips in the muffins and he had muffin mix powder all over his face.

Gage helped me make homemade laundry detergent. He put the measured ingredients into a five gallon bucket and I gave him a long spoon to stir it with. I poured in the boiling water, and he asked if I was sure what we were doing was legal. Legal? “Yeah, are we making moonshine?”

We were out before 8am in the cold on a Saturday morning, walking home Gage’s pot bellied pig - who had decided to visit the neighbor. Gage looked up at me and said "I think that pig would make a good ham."

Jason eats lunch out on Fridays, after taking ham and cheese sandwiches all week. Today he told us he ate at Long John Silver's, and Gage asked "Did you bring me home any corn on a stick?!"

Gage talked non-stop ALL hours one day. He was chattering away at dinner and I thought I'd sneak in a sentence of my own. "Heello! You just erupted, Mom!"

I cut Gage's heavily iced cupcake into quarters so it would be easier for him to handle. "Why Mom! You know how to divide!"

Gage came home from school one day a bit irate. "Mom, we should get money for going to school. Do you know that the teachers can chew gum, munch on cookies when they want to, don't have to go to gym and get all sweaty, AND THEY GET PAID!" He hates to get all sweaty at school.

Got ready for school open house...Gage informed me "No offense, Mom, but you look sorta middle aged tonight." Since I've been battling allergies and feeling rough, 43 as middle aged didn't sound too bad. However, we had another talk about sometimes keeping the honest truth to ourselves.

Gage was waiting for some friends to come play. Told him they would be here "around lunch-time." When they weren't here by 12noon on the dot, he started pacing the floor. By 5 minutes after, he announced that his patience was hurting.

Having had one of "those" days, I announced to whoever was listening that I was just going to go somewhere and hide. Gage heard me, jumped up from where he was playing and ran to me "Oh! Go hide, Mom! I'll be the seeker and find you!"

Both Gage and Jason's middle names are Scott. So, to an upset Gage it just made sense to call me by three names: "Momma Scott Salmon!!"

Gage shoved a tote full of toys out into the hall so I could vacuum. He put his hands on his hips, looked at me with a smirk and said "Now, THAT'S raw power!"

All of a sudden Gage stopped playing with his trucks, ran and hugged me with all the strength in his small arms. (How did he know that was just what I needed?!)
"Do you ever get hugged so much that you feel like you are going to throw up?"
No...can't say that I have. Does that happen to you?
"Well sometimes you hug me too much, but I like it!"

I asked Gage if he'd like to go on a walk with me.
"Sure. We might as well walk to WalMart while we're at it. You'd be thin as a pencil when we got back, 'cause it's a long way to WalMart."

If I give my child a pair of disposable latex gloves, he will collect and take out the trash. He thinks he is quite important and he has a VERY happy momma!

Jason took Gage fishing one evening. They caught a brightly colored Sunfish and Jason made a remark that the fish was really pretty. To which Gage replied: "Yes, Dad, that's God's masterpiece."

Gage gave Jason one of those 'manly punches' in the arm as he walked by...Jason replied with a flexed muscle and a "You can't hurt this. You don't have an arm like this!" Gage's eyes sparkled and he rolled up his sleeve. "Prepare to be AMAZED!"

Jason and I were talking this afternoon, and didn't know Gage was listening. Jason said "between you, me and the doorpost" and we went on with our conversation. All of a sudden, Gage squeals and says "That's mean!! You called me a doorpost!" No amount of reassurance would do..."You have to be talking about me, because I'm the only other one here!!"

Gage's pup got into the trash - a whole bag of trash - and had a party. The pick-up process didn’t go very smooth...Gage told his daddy that he was going to be the supervisor and Jason could carry the garbage bag.

Nothing like an excited child jumping in our bed way too early in the morning..."My tooth fell out, my tooth fell out!" After scaring his parents half to death, he went back to bed and slept until time to go to school. We were awake for the day.

Jason: Gage, do you want to come and look at this magazine with me?
Gage: Does it have good looking tractors in it? If it does, I'm on my way.

"There is no school today, it's Saturday. Oh, Mom says no knives, so we can't make toothpicks today. Wear your coveralls; it's cold outside. Mom don't feel like babysitting. She says she has work to do, so we are going to play outside. I'll be waiting for you." Gage called and scheduled his own play date with his cousin.

Gage was fussing because he had to pick up his trucks from the hallway where they had gathered...my advice: 'Just close your eyes to it and keep working.'
His reply was incredulous "If I CLOSE my EYES, I can't SEE what I am DOING!!" He was looking at me like I had lost my brain.

We've been talking about what Gage can be when he "grows up".
"I'm going to be a bum."
Do you even know what a bum is?!
"Yes, they live under a bridge and push a shopping cart."
I think you need to pick something else...
"I'm going to be a clown."
A clown?! You are afraid of clowns!!
"No, mom! I won't be afraid of myself!"
I was hoping for higher aspirations.

Gage must have been cold. He put on my fuzzy red socks and they kept coming off of his feet. Solution: two rubber bands to keep them up.

Might want to batten down the hatches...according to Gage, who has been listening to the weather channel, we're going to have a tarantula rain fall. (torrential)

Went to town with my sister and her two kiddos...the two boys were having a serious conversation about "bad guys".
Justin: Bad guys can come down the 'chiminey' into your house!
Gage: That's why you need a firearm! A rifle, a shotgun, a pistol, a BB gun...

Gage brought home his report card...he's going to have buckle down on his math and stay in his seat more.
Jason told him: "I was in second grade once. I got distracted, too."
Gage: "Was it because of the pretty girls?"
Jason: "Pretty girls have been the downfall of many a man, son. Do you think you need a math tutor?"
Gage: "A tooter?! I don't need anyone else stinking around here!"
Dinner conversations around here can be a bit entertaining.

Was babysitting my niece and nephew and Gage gave out yogurt tubes to everyone. I usually freeze them so the kids can eat them like popsicles, but they were "melty" - just been in the fridge. When questioned because they were different, Gage said "You get what you get and you don't throw a fit. We are going to eat melty ones today." So they all ate melty ones.

We were all in Jason's little pick-up. I was struggling to find my seat belt and evidently Gage was feeling a bit crowded. "Somebody's swelled up since we rode in here last time."

"Mom, am I 'noxious?"
No son, you aren't obnoxious.
"Do I just need a sense of direction?"
Yes, I'll agree with that. All boys need a sense of direction.

Gage and I were sitting on the couch, reading, listening to music. He leans over and smells of me - about three big sniffs.
I asked him "Do I stink?!"
"No, you just smell like a mom."

Gage and his cousin Justin were looking at an animal encyclopedia...
"that's a Saw Fish!! That's what the Flintstones use to cut their bread!!"

Babysat our great-nephew, who wasn’t quite 3 months old...I asked Gage to help out by getting me a diaper. He told Levi, very seriously, "You are little, so you still have to wear a diaper. I wear man underwear."

Gage and Justin (nephew) came home from school talking about a certain singer. I told them to stop talking about it, because we don't listen to that kind of music.
"Why?" -Gage
Because it has bad words in it.
"What kind of bad words?" -Gage
Words you don't need to say...dirty words (prob the used wrong adjective here...)
"Oh, I know!" said Justin. He leaned over and whispered to Gage: "Dirty words are like poop running down your leg!"

"Who is Munchie the Indian?" -Gage
WHO?! -Jason
"Munchie the Indian - it says it right here" -Gage (They were looking at a tractor magazine)
That's Muncie, Indiana, son, not Munchie the Indian!

Jason and I were sitting on the couch. Gage wiggled and wedged himself in between us -- then decided to get up. "I can't move! I am squooshed by a hot momma!!" Somehow I don't think he was insinuating that I was lookin' good.

We don’t celebrate Christmas with Santa – even though we don’t know the exact day of Jesus’ birth, Christmas is a time our family sets aside to remember the humble beginnings of our Savior. Gage and I were talking about Christmas and why we have the Holiday. “Well, sometimes I get all excited about presents and forget that Jesus is the ultimate gift. So I really don’t need presents for Christmas, but they sure are nice.”

Gage found a pair of his dad’s pliers outside, and they had rusted a bit. “Look at what I found, Mom. Dad left them outside and now they look like this, but they still work. I claimed them, though, because I didn’t want him to get into trouble for leaving them outside in the rain. He probably just forgot about them.”

“I don’t fold clothes. That’s woman work.” Wrong words for a little boy, who found out much to his chagrin, that folding towels was also boy work.

Gage has a pot bellied pig in a pen behind the house. I found him getting ready to feed Daisy a full bucket of hog feed. “That’s not too much, Mom! She eats it all!” She had eaten a 40 pound bag of hog food that week with the help of her small keeper.

Gage laid down by Jason in the bed. I asked him if he was going to sleep with his dad and he added “I’ve slept with that fuzzy man before in my life and I’m not going to do it again tonight.”

More Gage-isms <click> here

Violent love...

Hebrews 10:24

And let us consider one another to provoke unto love and to good works

For many years, I thought Love was always a warm and fuzzy feeling that made the world a wonderful place. 
 

I thought Love would make everything just perfect.

I thought Love would smooth all arguments and disagreements.

I thought Love would be the healer of all things gone wrong.

I thought Love would come easy and then stay, hovering like a warm blanket.

I thought Love was quiet, peaceful and soft.

Boy, was I wrong! 

Love can make everything just perfect - for a short moment in time.

Love can smooth many arguments and disagreements.

Love can be a healer.

Love can be easy.

Love can be quiet and peaceful.

However, Love can be violent. I had never thought of Love this way until we had a child.

I love my husband with all I have. Our Love hasn't been smooth, didn't come easy, was sometimes loud and disagreeable - but it is perfect for us. It is steadfast, unmoveable and secure. 

However, when our child arrived into this great big world, I was gifted with an automatic Love that I didn't even know existed. 

He was tiny, cried loud and long and was totally dependent on us, his parents. 

Maybe it was because I had "Advanced Maternal Age" (that's how the dr's office classified me) or maybe it is just because it's the way I'm wired - but that little wad of humanity had my total protection from his birth.

In fact, I loved him with a love so violent that it almost scared me. Mess with my baby? Let's see how rough life can get for you. In fact, I am not even going to let you hold him, because you MIGHT not treat him the way I like it.

I had to bite my lip and let his grannies babysit. The first time he spent the night with one of them, I stayed up all night. What good that did me, I'll never figure out. 

However, I have learned that a violent love is a good thing. When I love something with all my heart, I protect it from evil, from naysayers, from white-hot anger. 

And violent Love is not soft and fuzzy. 
It is making my child obey when I would rather let him get by with whatever he was doing.

Violent Love is not perfect, but does the best it can to protect. It's grabbing my child by the arm and telling him (very emphatically) "You DO NOT run off and you DO NOT cross the road. Do you understand me, young man?!"

Violent Love is having a hard heart toward his tears when I have had to correct his various ill behaviors - like biting, kicking shins, saying 'stupid' and calling every female 'old lady'.

Violent Love will create arguments and confrontation. Violent Love isn't fun and games.

Violent Love is essential. This kind of love will take away all hesitation and establish clear boundaries.

Violent Love is Momma Love. It is Daddy Love. It makes a path for Precious Love.

It is our Savior's Love - he died a violent death so that we may experience the total and divine healing love of our spirit. And for Love, I will be eternally thankful.

Math...err...Multiplication...

 Revelation 22:12

And, behold, I come quickly; and my reward is with me, to give every man according as his work shall be.

Math homework. Our child is in third grade. I sure don't remember having to do math like this when I was in third grade. Of course, that was 35 years ago. Evidently much has changed in 35 years, and  learning multiplication is based on a while new framework.

We have worked hard the past few weeks here at home on his math. Finally, he brought home a classroom-worked perfect score paper. Twenty problems. All by himself. Dad was proud. Mom was proud. Boy was proud. He had worked during class and through his outside play time at school to achieve that perfect score. Because he had worked so hard, the victory was extra sweet.

Every day, I am anxious to look in his homework folder to see if we have completed his math homework correctly.  That grade means almost as much to me as it does to our small boy. He is quick to tell me that I was wrong when he gets a bad grade, but he is just as quick to say, "You did know what you were doing, Mom!"

Those red numbers at the top of the page remind me of life and my daily score. Will I be given a good grade or will I be lacking? Did my temper get away from me? Did my patience fall short? Did I thank God for my blessings and not dwell on the negative? Did my prayer time measure up to where I walked a Godly walk or did I neglect the very thing that makes my day run smoothly?

I want a good reward for my day's work. I want a good reward for my life's work. The only way to achieve that perfect score is to rely on the mercies of God and know that whatever I face, he will be there to help me overcome each obstacle.

We'll keep working on those multiplication problems. But more importantly, we will keep working on our walk with Christ. He erases the mistakes when we acknowledge we've made them; no matter how many times we rework it, when we finally finish, our correct answer will be rewarded. 

(This post was written a some days ago...since then, he has received several great grades on his papers! Doesn't mean he enjoys it any more, but at least he is encouraged!)

I hear and understand...

Deuteronomy 12:28

Observe and hear all these words which I command thee, that it may go well with thee, and with thy children after thee for ever, when thou doest that which is good and right in the sight of the Lord thy God.

Matthew 15:10

And He called the multitude, and said unto them, Hear, and understand

I am the parent of a young child and there are times that I think I talk to a tree stump.

"Put on your socks." We are trying to get out of the house on a Sunday morning.
And get to church on time. It is a losing battle.
I look at the small person who roams our house. His toes are shining.
"Put on your socks." This time I point to where there are two white socks haphazardly flung on the bed.

I check the coffee pot. There is just enough left for me to have one more chug. No matter how early I get up, we seem to run behind. Might as well take the time to finish up the coffee as I hunt for my shoes. I finally have one on, and locate the other one squished beneath a big plastic dump truck.

"Do you have on your socks?" Silence. Then a small voice announces, "I'm doing it."
That means, no he doesn't have on socks. I take off my shoes and go the bedroom. He is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking out the window.

Finally, I nab his socks and put them on his cold feet. "I told you to put on your socks. Now go get your boots and put them on. Now." I follow him out of the bedroom. He walks right past his boots. Where is he going?!

"Put on your boots."
He finally finds his pocket knife and slips it in his pocket. "Can I wear a hat, Mom?"
"No, I want you to put on your boots so we can leave." I finally pick up his boots and glare at him. He gets the message and puts his boots on.

By the time we three get in the truck to go to church, I am thanking God that He knew what he was doing when he only blessed us with one offspring.  I have used my allotted 25,000 words per day to remind Gage (what seems like) 10 times to shower and dry, 10 times to put on his clothes, 10 times to brush his teeth, 10 times to put on his socks and boots,

He heard me tell him every time. What he wasn't doing was listening. There is vast difference, and I didn't realize how huge that difference was until I had a child. I am having to teach him to actually listen. Stop. Concentrate. Listen. Understand. Process the information. React. Do.

Then I realize something very important. How many times during the course of the day do I hear and not process? I hear a song over and over and never stop to listen to the words. I read an article over and over and just remember the highlights. I need to stop. I need to concentrate. I need to listen. I need to understand. I need to process. I need to react and do.

Not only do I need to listen in my daily life with my family, friends and acquaintances, I need to transfer that skill to my spiritual life as well. Just how many times do I hear God's word...but do I really listen to what He has to say? Does He have to tell me 10 times and then shake my socks in front of my eyes to get my attention?

I don't want Him to think He is talking to a tree stump. I want to be able to listen. To actually be able to put into action what is told and revealed to me. Through the noise of the world, my desire is to understand the heart of God.