Season of Cheer . . .

I love Christmas I always have. I remember as a little girl walking around the neighborhood looking for pine branches to make into Christmas trees. I would spend most of my pocket money on cotton wool to make snowflakes (weird I have never even seen Christmas flakes). We would play my parents old Jim Reeves records on Christmas and listen to “I am dreaming of a white Christmas” not even sure what a white Christmas was. In those days we were assured of a great time with our cousins in family get togethers and Christmas ran for a week with party after party. Talk about a Christmas spirit. Even the only television station did not disappoint with programs such as Dickens a Christmas story and Ring us up (a program where you could buy stuff on air, it was aired annually). My parents did not buy into all the Santa stuff but we lived in an area where pine trees were plentiful and we were more than glad to help our neighbors prune their hedges by pulling off branches and converting this into Christmas trees. Beyond the afore mentioned cotton wool. We made our own Christmas decorations. It was loads of fun. It saddens me to see what Christmas has become. Children no longer look forward to Christmas, no new clothes; no great get togethers, no special programs. Somehow over the years we have forgotten what Christmas is all about. For business people it is a time to maximize sales to make up for those two days when business is closed. Somehow that last week to Christmas everyone is hustling and jostling and there is no much cheer going on. Everyone wants to buy something last minute and the sales are a joke. For most stores, it is the time to get rid of all the dead stock. Back in the days, the mayor even put up a tree at the city centre and it was a treat for all kids, actually it was an outing to go to town and look up the mayor’s tree. A couple of years ago the mayor made an effort to resuscitate that tradition but the miserable looking half dead plant with a few balloons and strings of crepe paper was a sorry rendition. As a Christian, the saddest thing for me is not the loss of the mayor’s tree, or the many drunken parties or even the fact that for most employers Christmas is any other public holiday - a lose for business. The saddest thing is the loss of the spirit of Christmas. The whole reason for the season. I see it in my own attitude sometimes, more so like now with the helper gone off for Christmas and the hustle of making it special. I find myself short with the boys and their dad, because I have to put up decorations (which they had better not tamper with) and make cookies and other treats (which they cannot eat till Christmas morning). The focus for me is becoming more the one time occasion than the continued experience of God’s love and grace. I am so caught up in making the house look perfect in case of unexpected guests than ensuring my own kids enjoy the season. This year I will work at getting back some of the spirit of Christmas. I will choose not to focus on cleaning and on the one day but instead on the experience. I will choose to make it special by remembering the whole reason for the season: God’s precious gift of love. If my family is walking on eggshells, salivating over all the stuff that they would love to eat but cant because the schedule is not right, or have to eat with the saucer glued to their lips so as not to leave crumbs for me to clean, is it really Christmas for them? Isn’t the whole season about celebration of God’s gift? Well I guess that is all about to change. Today I will take time to remind the children what the Christmas story is about. I will take time to watch shows they enjoy and let them help me make stuff for all of us to enjoy and if I don’t get to clean the house just right and make a perfect meal that’s ok. I will teach them about Christmas and sharing and celebrating; not just by reading them the story, but by living it. I pray that the same will be your portion this Christmas. Have a merry blessed Christmas. I know I will!

Progeny

As the boys continue to grow I am constantly amazed over the fact that they are so different, both from each other and from Tony and I. I remember before becoming a parent I thought of a child as an extension of the parent. That was the only way I could comprehend this insatiable desire couples had for children, it was also the only way I was able to understand the cultural view of posterity. After our wedding, Tony and I took time before getting children and along the way he became seriously ill. I remember my mom and my best maid prevailing on me to reconsider our decision to wait before having children. “What if something happened to him?” they asked, “At least this way you would have a child to remind you of him.” At the time their arguments made a lot of sense and we went about the business of getting a progeny as soon as possible. However, in retrospect, I now realize that a child is so much more than a stamp of authenticity on a marriage (as some of our aunties seemed to suggest) or an extension of us. Rather children are their own unique people with their individual taste, likes and dislikes, and even looks. Because no matter how much a child resembles a parent or another child, there is something unique about them once you get to know them. I should know: my sister has identical twins. At first I thought they looked completely alike (as the name suggests) but in the four years they have been around and spending so much time in their presence, I now can tell them apart easily. The difference is so minute, almost indiscernible, but it is there none the less. Perhaps it is my imagination, I don’t know, all I do know however is that I can easily tell them apart. When my sister and I were much younger, people claimed we looked alike and we always wished we were twins so we could attend each other’s classes, switch dates, and more importantly fool our parents when one of us went awol. It seemed so easy, just switch outfits and pretend to be the other person. Perhaps it would have worked, I don’t know, but I highly doubt it. A parent somehow always knows their child. They are as different as fingerprints. This difference is becoming more evident in my sons as they continue to grow. One energizes through people and is more extroverted while the other enjoys his own company and can entertain himself for hours. One loves indoor games like me and is always game to play while the other would rather play outdoors. As a parent I have to be careful to take these differences in account as I deal with them. I need to realize that what works for one child does not necessarily work for the other; more so when it comes to punishment. I must be careful to treat each child as an individual. Sometimes this is not always convenient but it is very important. I learnt this lesson the hard way some years back. I had punished both Toriah and Tj to stay in separate rooms for ten minutes (a really long time for little children) at the time they were about six and four. For Tj the punishment was unbearable, he loves the company of people and when the time was up he was really remorseful. I could tell the punishment had taken effect. Toriah was a different story. I found him sitting happily on the bed in my room covered in lipstick and playing with my stuff. He was quite happy and did not seem to realize that he was under punishment. I realized quickly that what was effective for one was totally ineffective for the other. I have never tried that again. My encouragement to all parents is simply this. Take time to know your child as an individual and treat them as such. This way, you will be able to influence them and build a meaningful relationship that will survive the test of time.

Changing Times

I am currently taking a second Masters degree in Marriage and Family, some of the things that I have been learning in class have been an eye opener for me both as a parent and as a person who works with young people. The other day we were discussing rapid social change and how that has influenced the African family context. What do globalization and the emergence of alternative family systems, not to mention the rapid move to materialism, mean to the average family struggling to meet basic needs? The sad truth is that as more and more people begin to focus on upward mobility in terms of social and economic status, family takes the back burner. I have sat in forums where people with more than two children are looked at with pity and made to feel like they are poor planners. I have heard women apologize for carrying their third or fourth pregnancy as though they owe the world an apology for over populating it. I remember once being interviewed (it had to do with some of my pastoral responsibilities) and one of the panelists asked my husband and I how many children we had. When he found out we had two children. He congratulated us and told us we could stop at two and make sure we now concentrated on serving God. I found the comment, no matter how well intended patronizing and offensive. The man had no idea what our plan was, he did not know and did not bother to find out that both Tony and I wanted to have more children and believed that children were a gift and not a hindrance. I left the meeting heart broken, if this was the message being given from the church, what hope was there. This in my opinion could not be further from the truth given in the Bible that children are a gift from God. My sister has five children and truth be told I envy her that. It has not changed her; she is still a fashionista and eats life by the shovelful. Her house may not look like homes and garden, but it is full of life and love and my family loves hanging out there. She also holds no apologies for her number of offspring. “Look at it this way, when they are fully grown at least I will have someone dropping in at one time or the other” She likes to say. I have also not noticed much change in the quality of their life in terms of material things. They don’t eat fewer meals a day or go in rugs and before some of you readers assume she is some millionaire, she is not. She is your every day average Kenyan, a high school teacher at that. In a world that is full of negative messages and dire economic predictions. We need more of her: People who truly believe that children are a blessing and not an economic burden. That they add the zest to life. AS historians would remind us, one of the factors that led to the urbanization of most first world countries, including the USA, is a large population.

A MESSAGE ON FATHERHOOD BY BARRACK OBAMA

BY BARACK OBAMA

I grew up without a father around. I have certain memories of him taking me to my first jazz concert and giving me my first basketball as a Christmas present. But he left when I was two years old.

And even though my sister and I were lucky enough to be raised by a wonderful mother and caring grandparents, I always felt his absence and wondered what it would have been like if he had been a greater presence in my life. I still do. It is perhaps for this reason that fatherhood is so important to me, and why I've tried so hard to be there for my own children.

That's not to say I've always been a perfect dad. I haven't. When Malia and Sasha were younger, work kept me away from home more than it should have. At times, the burden of raising our two daughters has fallen too heavily on Michelle. During the campaign, not a day went by that I didn't wish I could spend more time with the family I love more than anything else in the world.

But through my own experiences, and my continued efforts to be a better father, I have learned something over the years about what children need most from their parents.

They need our time, measured not only in the number of hours we spend with them each day, but what we do with those hours. I've learned that children don't just need us physically present, but emotionally available – willing to listen and pay attention and participate in their daily lives. Children need structure, which includes learning the values of self-discipline and responsibility.

Malia and Sasha may live in the White House, but Michelle and I still make sure they do their chores, make their beds, finish their schoolwork and take care of the dog. And above all I've learned that children need our unconditional love-when they succeed and when they make mistakes; when life is easy and life is hard.

Without a doubt, it is easier to raise children in this kind of caring, attentive atmosphere when both parents are present. Of course, there are plenty of single parents who do a heroic job of raising their kids. I know this because I was fortunate enough to have one-a mother who never allowed my father's absence to be an excuse for slacking off or not doing my best. But more and more kids are growing up today without their dads. And those young folks are more likely to struggle in school, try drugs, get into trouble and even wind up in jail.

Help Kids Reach Their Potential
There are too many young people out there who aren't reaching their potential because they don't have a father figure to guide them. And yet, the truth is, it's harder to be a father today, even for those dads who are present in their children's lives.

We are still feeling the aftershocks of a recession that took an especially difficult toll on men. And if you're struggling to pay the bills, a focus on simply getting by can understandably take precedence over everything else.

We can all do right by our kids.

I have worked hard to get dads help in simple but meaningful ways-by supporting community programs that work with troubled fathers; getting businesses to offer things like discounted movie or sports tickets for fathers to spend more time with their kids; and by making sure dads in the military can keep in contact with their children from overseas.

And every father can encourage his child to turn off the video games and pick up a book; to study hard and stay in school. Every father can pack a healthy lunch for his son, or go outside and play ball with his daughter.

No matter how difficult life gets, we can show our kids through our own example the value in treating each other as we wish to be treated. These things we can all do. Our kids understand that life won't always be perfect, that times get tough and that even great parents don't get everything right. More than anything, they just want us to be there-to be present, to care about their lives.

Coaching Moments
This year, in addition to being President, I took on a second job. I was an assistant coach for Sasha's basketball team. Every Sunday we would bring Sasha and her teammates together for clinics and drills. It was a lot of fun.

There were even a couple of times when I'd fill in for the regular coaches at the games. I'll admit that this was a little nerve-racking, and I'm sure this was true for Sasha as well, who may have winced when her dad would voice his displeasure with a particular call made by the referee. But I was so proud, watching her run up and down the court, seeing her learn and improve and gain confidence. And I was hopeful that in the years to come, she would look back on experiences like these as the ones that helped define her as a person – and as a parent herself.

In the end that's what being a parent is all about: those precious moments, the times we spend with our children that fill us with pride and excitement for their future; the chances we have to set an example or offer a piece of advice or just be there to show that we love them. And that's a lesson worth remembering not just on Father's Day, but every other day too.

(This essay was first published on people.com)

HEROES

The other day I was sharing with Tj about the history of our country. I told him about colonialism and the Mau Mau rebellion. About the great men and women who not only desired freedom from colonial rule but were willing to fight for it, whatever the cost. He was so fascinated. As I shared with him about some of our country’s forgotten heroes, it hit me just how important it is to have a hero. People we can look up to and gain perspective from. I kept asking myself, yes there were all those names to be found in our history books, but were there any great men and women left from whom we could borrow a leaf or two? Is the era of great men and women, all leaders by their own rights, over?
Later on, I was watching a documentary about Mother Teresa, a catholic nun who made a huge difference among the Indian poor. She was nothing to write home about if one looked at her stature, short and bent; but in terms of passion she was a force to reckon with. She had passion for God and for the poor and suffering, and her compassion moved her to make a difference. One of her statements has become a mantra for me, “our contributions are but a drop in the ocean and yet without them, that drop will be forever missing”. She did not allow herself to be overwhelmed by the need to the point of desperation, rather she plod on, irrespective of the humongous need. She knew she could not make a difference to everyone, but she could make a difference to someone, and that was enough for her.
It made me think of my own life. It can be intimidating; I am just one person in a small time city in the third world. It sounds incredulous to imagine that I can make a difference. And yet if I do nothing about the things I am passionate about, then my contribution will forever be missing, for all eternity. I kept asking myself what am I so passionate about that I could give my whole existence for it. God and family, in that order. I realized that I could make a difference, maybe not globally, maybe not regionally, maybe not even in Kenya, but I could make a difference in my sphere. In heralding the need to make family a priority amongst those in my environs using whatever means available to me. I could speak, I could model, I could write.
I realized that my focus was askew; there were heroes all over if I could only open my eyes. Some of them graced the pages of history books but others plodded on everyday unaware of the great difference their everyday choices made to those who took time to observe them. Men and women who chose to work and provide for their children despite the harsh economic conditions. Men and women who chose to remain faithful and monogamous despite the myriad pressure to let go of the “shackles” and be happy. Men and women who chose to invest in their homes despite the sacrifice. Men and women who chose to be voices of reason and restraint in a world of decadence and moral decay. Unsung heroes, of whom books may never be written or songs composed but whose posterity would tell the difference.
It gave me hope to realize that I did not need to relay on the history pages to point out heroes for my children or better still to help them become heroes. I just needed to believe and to open my eyes to see the extraordinary within the ordinary.

Before I was a Mom

I got this lovely poem from a friend and I want to share it with all the moms out there.

Before I was a Mom,
I never tripped over toys
or forgot words to a lullaby.
I didn't worry whether or not
my plants were poisonous.
I never thought about immunizations.

Before I was a Mom,
I had never been puked on.
Pooped on.
Chewed on.
Peed on.
I had complete control of my mind
and my thoughts.
I slept all night.

Before I was a Mom,
I never held down a screaming child
so doctors could do tests.
Or give shots.
I never looked into teary eyes and cried.
I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.
I never sat up late hours at night
watching a baby sleep.

Before I was a Mom,
I never held a sleeping baby just because
I didn't want to put her down.
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces
when I couldn't stop the hurt.
I never knew that something so small
could affect my life so much.
I never knew that I could love someone so much.
I never knew I would love being a Mom.

Before I was a Mom,
I didn't know the feeling of
having my heart outside my body.
I didn't know how special it could feel
to feed a hungry baby.
I didn't know that bond
between a mother and her child.
I didn't know that something so small
could make me feel so important and happy.

Before I was a Mom,
I had never gotten up in the middle of the night
every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay.
I had never known the warmth,
the joy,
the love,
the heartache,
the wonderment
or the satisfaction of being a Mom.
I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much,
before I was a Mom.

Sleep Well Little Angel

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My friend’s baby died over the weekend. It was the saddest thing ever. I have learnt in such moments not to give empty placates, how could I possibly understand if I have never gone through the pain of losing my baby, what can I possibly say? In moments like that the best thing to do is just be there and say nothing. Their little girl was a flower, pleasant and happy. She wasn’t even very ill. I guess we will never truly understand some things this side of heaven. Yet her brief life and death spoke to me profoundly.

The thing her life taught me is that we are never too young to make an impact. From the faces of those gathered in her home, you could read the grief, the feeling of lose. She was here a little while, but she was here. It made me wonder how much impact some of us leave, having been here and yet never really being felt. Worse still, how many people go through life feeling and thinking that they don’t matter? How many people do we know and allow to move on never knowing how much they mean to us until it is too late?

I look at my own children and realize that our time together is actually borrowed time. There are no guarantees how long I have with them. Am I making the most of our time together or am I so stuck in the future that I do not have time to enjoy today? A future of which I have no guarantee? Life and people are a gift. Gifts we can chose to honor and make the most of, or gifts we can take for granted until it is too late. My friends loved their baby girl; they spent lots of time with her and created a bank of memories that they will have to hold on to. They numbered their days well.

When I got home the night after that first meeting, I went straight to my sons’ room. There they were sprawled all over their beds. I remembered all the fights we had had earlier and the numerous times I gave it to them over one issue or the other. All of a sudden that was not so important. I realized that our relationship needed to be defined by so much more than rules and regulations. As I hugged them, I prayed that God would continually remind me, to make the most of our days together. To number our days well.