The Boy's Birthday Wish

The Boy (TB) turned 7 this week. Before blowing out his candles, he paused to make his birthday wish. Under his breath, I heard him mumble, "Mama, Daddy, Sissy, Auntie, and Nunkie." When I asked him about it later he told me that all he wanted for his birthday was what he already had, his family.

I've written before about The Boy's remarkable moments of spiritual maturity. When My Imaginary Friend (IF) reads these stories he warns me about painting the wrong impression. Somehow he seems to think that I need to remind people that TB is not always like this, that sometimes he's a thoughtless, selfish little boy. IF had similar comments when I first posted my remarks from my Dad's funeral. So just for the record: My Dad was imperfect. TB is imperfect.

One of my favorite quotes is from Fr. Alexander Schmeman's last homily: To love is to remember. I've got a little twist on that for IF: Sometimes, to love is to forget.

Listening to The Boy as He Prays

Last weekend I was given the honor of tucking The Boy into bed. What struck me about his extemporaneous prayer was the amount of time and thought he put into giving thanks for various things during the day. He went on and on. He only made one request. "Help me to do a better job of minding my Mom and Dad."

I wish I had such spiritual maturity.

TBM's Epiphany

The Boy has been misbehaving. The Boy's Mom (TBM) is frustrated with him, almost to the point of despair. Then TBM hears the 5 year old saying his bedtime prayers. "Lord, please forgive me for the wrong things I do. And help me to do better. I don't know what my problem is. Just please help me." Along with the lump in her throat, and the tear in her eye, TBM gets some perspective. Yes, he is her boy, and she wants him to be the best behaved boy that's ever lived. But he is still a sinner in need of deliverance. And she also gets something to be thankful for: he's trying to do better, and asking for God's help. He's really not that different from the rest of us, except that we're better at hiding the wrong things we do, and not so quick to ask for forgiveness and help.

Like Me

I've just spent most of a week hanging out with my 5 year old nephew, aka The Boy. And he taught me something about my relationship with God. Well, not so much taught, let's say he provided the raw material for an epiphany.

• "Was I good? Do I get a treat?"
• "You're strong, but I'm stronger than you."
• "You're smart, but I'm smarter than you."
• "Things aren't going the way I want, so I'll just cry until you give in."

No, these aren't things the boy said this week. They're what I tell God a hundred times a day in my own nuanced, adult way. I've realized that I haven't really grown up; I've just learned to hide my childishness and selfishness, to put a veneer on it, to make it socially acceptable.

If I were really mature, spiritually mature, I would find enough joy in doing the will of God that I wouldn't always be looking for the adult version of a Shetland pony as a reward. If I were really mature, I would rest in the knowledge that God knows what's best for me and that he has the power to bring it about. Instead, I make myself sick with worry then get angry at God for allowing my illness. And how many of my tears are from legitimate pain as opposed to tears as a means of manipulating the All-Mighty? I suspect I would be dismayed if I knew the answer to that question.

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

The Boy

My wife and I, much to our dismay, don't have children of our own and it seems that we probably never will. My wife's sister and her husband, realizing this, decided to let us in on their children's lives as much as possible. So while other Uncles and Aunts are merely Uncle Name and Aunt Naima, we are Nunkie and Auntie. The following is an e-mail (slightly edited) that I received shortly after our Christmas time visit.

"Yesterday the little Neighbor boy came over to play. Of course The Boy had to to be the first to tell him all about his Christmas. It pretty much revolved around, 'my Nunkie'. the neighbor kept saying, 'what??' and The Boy said, 'you know, NUNKIE!!!!' Well anyway, it was humorous because they were both so earnest. Then The Boy said, 'My Nunkie drives all the way here from Indiana and it's many long hours in the car. He makes sure that he comes here each season every year for every holiday like my birthday. He comes for thanksgiving and we eat turkey and then he comes for Christmas and lives in the basement while he waits for santa claus. He takes me to church and we take adventures together and we love God.' I immediately thought, Richard is going to die when i tell him this."

Yep, I'm officially dead. Swollen and exploded by love.

The boy is like any exceptional boy in so many ways. And it never occurred to us that anything might be wrong until he started preschool. Then with the sensory overload of a room full of kids hopped up on life, some unusual behaviors began to present themselves. Now in kindergarten the behaviors have gotten more and more disruptive and he has been diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome (AS). This is sometimes referred to as High-Functioning Autism.

It doesn't matter that there are worse things that a child may suffer from. And it doesn't matter if we say, "at least this" or "at least that". All that matters is that there is a child that I love that is suffering. This is so much more wrenching than knowing that an adult is suffering. And the boy really is beginning to suffer; he is starting to realize that he is not like other kids, that his acting out and repetitive behaviors set him apart from the other boys. But he can't seem to make himself stop. ARRGGGHHHH!!!!!

I want to hold the boy and say the right words and make it all better. But I have nothing but love and prayer. Nothing? I guess this is where faith comes in. Can God give us the strength to deal even with this? Can God work even this out for good? (See Higher Than the Angels)

I've thought about how to explain this to the boy, when the time comes, and this is what I've come up with: Jesus struggled and stumbled under the weight of His cross, and Simon of Cyrene had to carry it for Him. So, while as God Jesus can do anything, as a man He sometimes needs help. This is a little cross that the boy is carrying for Jesus. And the boy does love Jesus. As a Christian he is "completing the sufferings of Christ." But The Boy is not alone. Nunkie and Auntie are carrying crosses for Jesus. Mommy and Daddy are carrying crosses for Jesus, and so is little sister.

I realize that to an unbeliever this may sound like madness, and God may sound like some monster: "The Great Vivisectionist in the Sky". It is true that the existence of evil is the great challenge to belief in God. There are good philosophical answers to this problem. But notice that when confronted with concrete situations, it is not our intellects that are immediately engaged, but our emotions. So is trying to deal with these sorts of situations by appealing to logic alone really logical? No. But in the meantime, I'm adding The Problem of Pain and The Pillar and Ground of Truth to my reading list.