A Rare Lucid Moment
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
I was just putting Michael to bed, trying everything. Playing with him until he started to rub his eyes, then going along with him when he indicated that he wanted to read books. So we sat in the hallway where a bunch of his books happen to be scattered around, and he picked up a pleasant cartoonish, but relevant board book, "I Belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints."
Ah, good choice, I thought. So I picked it up, and as the title of the book suggested, I opted to sing the song instead of read the text. But it being 4am and WELL past his bed time, I slowed the tempo a bit to make it more of a relaxing song than a hyper jump up and down song, like it is written. As I sang, I decided that I liked the tempo that way, then began to sing with feeling (not sappy mind you, just simple and motherly), and he began to calm down a bit more.
He's used to me going along with whatever he wants, so he tested me, handed me a book about animals to throw me off. But I looked him in the eye, referred him back to the book we were concentrating on, and continued. He got the message, and appreciated my resolve, I think, because he put aside the animal book without throwing a fit, and re-immersed himself in the pictures of the church book as I turned the pages.
That was my moment of clarity. Again he opened the animal book, saw a cat, and said, "Cat!" all high strung like he does, because usually in response I say, "YES! THAT'S A CAT! GOOD BOY!" all high strung too. But at that moment I realized how ridiculous that whole dialogue is, and so this time in response to "CAT!" I just looked him steadily in the eye and he read my mind, I know he did. I said, "Yes, that's right. You know that's right. Now let's concentrate on something much more meaningful right now." And he got it. I saw it in his eyes, and he behaved accordingly. And thank goodness, eventually he let me put him to bed, where he fell asleep in Daddy's welcoming arms.
That moment of clarity surely must have come from the sweet hymn that the book brought out. In any situation, however mundane or sad, just singing a hymn makes everything seem a whole lot better. Well lately, the last few years, my hymns have become increasingly hollow and not very heartfelt. Until at last I just don't really bother with them too much any more.
Michael has another book, also titled after a hymn, "I Am a Child of God," a gorgeous board book of Greg Olsen's artwork. Well there too I often opt to sing the song rather than read the text. Lately though I'm just so tired of that song, you know, singing it over and over and over. Must have been 3 million times now, just for that book. It's a profound and touching song and all but sheesh...3 million times...
Back when I first started teaching primary at the Monterey Ward I heard "I Am a Child of God" in a new light when the children sang it, and I cried. I want to feel like that all the time. Why don't I? I want clarity. Always.
posted by Angela Marie at 5:13 AM
I was just putting Michael to bed, trying everything. Playing with him until he started to rub his eyes, then going along with him when he indicated that he wanted to read books. So we sat in the hallway where a bunch of his books happen to be scattered around, and he picked up a pleasant cartoonish, but relevant board book, "I Belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints."
Ah, good choice, I thought. So I picked it up, and as the title of the book suggested, I opted to sing the song instead of read the text. But it being 4am and WELL past his bed time, I slowed the tempo a bit to make it more of a relaxing song than a hyper jump up and down song, like it is written. As I sang, I decided that I liked the tempo that way, then began to sing with feeling (not sappy mind you, just simple and motherly), and he began to calm down a bit more.
He's used to me going along with whatever he wants, so he tested me, handed me a book about animals to throw me off. But I looked him in the eye, referred him back to the book we were concentrating on, and continued. He got the message, and appreciated my resolve, I think, because he put aside the animal book without throwing a fit, and re-immersed himself in the pictures of the church book as I turned the pages.
That was my moment of clarity. Again he opened the animal book, saw a cat, and said, "Cat!" all high strung like he does, because usually in response I say, "YES! THAT'S A CAT! GOOD BOY!" all high strung too. But at that moment I realized how ridiculous that whole dialogue is, and so this time in response to "CAT!" I just looked him steadily in the eye and he read my mind, I know he did. I said, "Yes, that's right. You know that's right. Now let's concentrate on something much more meaningful right now." And he got it. I saw it in his eyes, and he behaved accordingly. And thank goodness, eventually he let me put him to bed, where he fell asleep in Daddy's welcoming arms.
That moment of clarity surely must have come from the sweet hymn that the book brought out. In any situation, however mundane or sad, just singing a hymn makes everything seem a whole lot better. Well lately, the last few years, my hymns have become increasingly hollow and not very heartfelt. Until at last I just don't really bother with them too much any more.
Michael has another book, also titled after a hymn, "I Am a Child of God," a gorgeous board book of Greg Olsen's artwork. Well there too I often opt to sing the song rather than read the text. Lately though I'm just so tired of that song, you know, singing it over and over and over. Must have been 3 million times now, just for that book. It's a profound and touching song and all but sheesh...3 million times...
Back when I first started teaching primary at the Monterey Ward I heard "I Am a Child of God" in a new light when the children sang it, and I cried. I want to feel like that all the time. Why don't I? I want clarity. Always.
posted by Angela Marie at 5:13 AM