Middle School Wisdom

Friday in class, one of my students asked me how many children I want to have. I told her four. She said, "Really? Fours kids will be very expensive. You will need much money."

I agreed with her.

She thought for a minute and then said, "You should get married. Then your wife ["husband," I interjected] -right, husband- can provide the money for the children."

My very helpful student presented this information as the new and unique idea that it was...in her mind. I told her it was a good plan. I'd get right on it.

Man am I going to miss those kids! :)

Yogurt, Milk and Rice

Today on my way to the grocery store I stopped and talked to a woman who was sitting on the overpass with her 6 month old son, and a sign around her neck. She was hoping for handouts.

I don't usually give people money, and actually I walk past her the first time. But I notice the sign as I pass, and that makes me pause. I go back, and ask the lady what she needs. She immediately puts her hand out and says, "Dios te pagas", which means "God will repay you". I can tell from looking at her eyes that she is blind.

I tell her that I'm not going to give her money, but that I'm going to the grocery store about a block away, and ask if she would like me to get something for her.

I'm not gonna lie; this was a test of sorts. Young mother. Baby. If she asks for some kind of junk food, I'm done.

I lean in close; the traffic passing below our little drama is loud.

"Maybe a yogurt," she says.

That's it. I just offered to get her whatever she wanted from the grocery store, and she asked for one thing. A yogurt. Ok, I tell her, what else?

"What else?" she repeats. "Some milk," she says. Her son reaches his chubby little hands toward me. I want nothing more in this moment than to get this baby some milk.

I suggested maybe some rice.

Yes. Thank you so much.

I tell her I'll be back and head for the store. As I go lots of thoughts flood my mind. Foremost is this:

What must it be like?

Not just to be blind.

Not just to be blind and have a baby.

Not just to be blind and have a baby, but not to have anyone to take care of you.

What must it be like to depend on strangers to provide milk and rice for your family? To know that you can't feed your child without help.

My heart felt heavy.

For this woman.

For the fact that she is just one of millions around the world.

That I so often take my blessings for granted.

That I had never stopped before.

The Warm Chaos of a Big Family

The title of this post is something I wrote tonight as I was posting random and witty comments on a friend's Facebook Christmas album. Well, at least I thought they were witty. Anyway, I looked at the phrase and thought, "Wow- that's so poetic!" so I thought I'd share it with you, Faithful Blog Reader.

I love big families! I mean, I love MY family, too, even though we were just a normal, two-parents-three-kids family for all of my childhood. But I REALLY love the atmosphere of a big family. For whatever reason, lots of children seems to make a family seem like a big, cozy, overstuffed couch. Relaxing and comfy and inviting.

In case you're wondering, I'm defining "big" as "four or more children". This seems to be the point at which the total number of people involved is high enough that it's harder to keep everyone straight and accounted for. Maybe that's where the feeling of "everyone's welcome" comes in; you're less likely to notice a spare.

When I was in college and grad school, I would sometimes bring friends home for the holidays that couldn't get to their own homes. When discussing the Foster Family Gathering, I always assured the guest, "Don't worry. Everyone's really friendly. And probably half the people won't even notice you're not part of the family."

There's something great about being a more-or-less unnoticed honorary member of a big family. The best thing to do is just sit back and observe. People are funny, especially when they're relaxing with family. Long-debated competitions are un-earthed and dusted off. The inevitable gossip about The Traveler or The Ever-Sick One or The Annoyingly Lucky One begins. Card or board games bring competitive streaks, so well hidden during the rest of life, roaring to life after their long hibernation. Little kids squeal and run and eventually drive adults to ban them to the basement or attic or (hopefully in good weather) the great outdoors. "To blow off some stink" as I used to hear occasionally in my childhood.

Big families. Loud. Messy. But lots of potential for love.