From Terrified to Twinkies

“I can’t do this.  I don’t want to go.”

These were the pleas of my 9-year-old.  No, we weren’t headed to the doctor.   No, she wasn’t getting on an airplane (that’s what I would say at the airport).  We were headed to the Heartland Hope Mission food pantry to do an afternoon of Mom-imposed mission work.  She puts up less of a fight with her weekly chore of bathroom cleaning—toilet scrubbing included. 

I’m a bit baffled by these comments as this child loves to help others.  In fact, one of her extra-curricular activities last year was participating in a group called Mission Possible Kids aimed at showing kids that you’re never too young to do mission work.  She LOVED doing this and was disappointed that it only met once a month.  So when the opportunity arose for us to help at the food pantry I thought it was a no-brainer.  I wanted my kids to be productive this summer and this was a perfect activity. 

Elisabeth was more than willing to go along and help (although she was exhausted from a morning of herding 18 energetic kids at Vacation Bible School).  She has helped at this pantry before and it’s always been one of her favorite youth group activities.  Most places, however, don’t want any volunteers that are under high-school age.  Knowing that Heartland Hope Mission was okay with middle-schoolers, I thought we’d be fine.  Elisabeth knew what she was doing from previous experience and I would just keep Rachel with me as my little helper.  What could go wrong?

Apparently she listened too closely when her sister spoke of helping at the mission.  Elisabeth talked about how some of the ‘clients’ would ask for additional food and you have to tell them “no.”  Rachel remembered these conversations and was terrified of having to tell someone that they couldn’t have additional food.  We had a quick discussion about how this pantry isn’t for people who are starving, it’s simply a way to help people who are struggling make it through the month.  Elisabeth tried to assure her that being able to help these people in any way makes you feel good.  I suggested that perhaps Rachel could sit and play with any children who came into the pantry while Elisabeth and I worked.  She wasn’t convinced it was a good idea, but went along willingly.

Upon arriving at the Pantry, she began to relax.  The mood among the volunteers was upbeat.  And why wouldn’t it be?  We weren’t there to focus on the struggles that people were having.  We were there to make their day a little better and brighter.  As Pete was giving us volunteers our instructions for the afternoon he explained what we would be doing and then added that he would need two volunteers to work separately and be in charge of two ‘specialty’ stations.  Before I realized what had happened, Rachel was the first eager volunteer to accept Pete’s request for someone to take on additional responsibility.   And in a flash, there went my plan of keeping Rachel with me and out of the way. 

Pete seized her offer to help and put her in charge of the “Desserts & Special items” station.  As a father of ten, Pete obviously has more experience at this parenting thing than I do.  Based on this, I would have thought he would have realized the error of his ways, even though he didn’t personally know Rachel.  He saw the look of panic on my face and asked “Do you not want her to help?”  I replied that I had intended to keep her with me for the afternoon and asked if he was really okay with his decision.  Without hesitation he said “She’ll be fine.”  Turns out, that was the understatement of the day.

Not only was Rachel fine, she EXCELLED in her role.    She got to spend the afternoon selecting Twinkies, Butterfingers, taco kits, etc. for the clients and was having a blast.  The few times I checked on her she explained her job to me with such enthusiasm she could hardly contain herself (Pete wasn’t checking on her—he knew she was fine).  She didn’t have to worry about telling anyone they couldn’t have more.  In fact, she put a smile on every clients’ face.  By the end of the afternoon everyone knew her by name, and she was so good at her job that she was invited back to help anytime she wants.  (We’re headed back to help again tomorrow.)

I took her to the Mission that afternoon to help her learn how to serve others.  Instead, I learned that my youngest is capable of way more than either she or I realized.  (One of many lessons I could probably learn from Pete-the-father-of-ten).  She already knew how to serve others, she just needed the opportunity.

 

But it’s more fun when you’re the one handing out the Twinkies. 

Tackling Dreams

I don’t need Sheryl Sandberg to tell me that girls can rule the world.  I know all about raising your daughters to believe that they can be anything they want to be.  In fact, I’m so good at it I’ve got a 9-year old daughter that plays football and dreams of playing in the NFL.  I don’t think this is what Sheryl had in mind.

Last summer it was Karate lessons.  Rachel had dreams of being a ninja.  Being supportive of her dreams we enrolled her in the classes.  We then watched her disappointment as she discovered that getting to break boards is not part of beginning karate.  She quickly decided that one session of karate was plenty and abandoned her ninja dreams.  Needless to say, when she brought up football, we were skeptical.

We compromised and let her try flag football.  She had a blast and couldn’t wait until the spring season.  Two successful seasons behind her she decided to go to football camp this summer.  Rimington Football Camp.  As in “former NFL-player Dave” Rimington Football Camp.   Who better to help her get to the NFL than someone who’s already been there?  I was encouraged by the fact that the website specifically indicated that the camp was for boys AND girls.  With that, she was registered.

The first day of camp was hot and miserable.  Less than 15 minutes into the stretching warm-ups, Rachel had decided that sitting under the tent with a bottle of water and a cold towel with one of the trainers was a better option.  After a little ‘encouragement’ from Mom, she returned to the camp.  She completed two and a half hours of offensive and defensive drills. 

The second day of camp ended with the keynote speaker, Aaron Davis, noticing that there was a lone girl in the mass of roughly 150 kids.  He told the boys to cheer “Way to go girl!”  After a less than enthusiastic response, he told them to try again and this time to do it with some attitude at which point all the boys cheered “WAY TO GO GIRL!”  She appreciated the vote of confidence, but it’s hard to be “one of the guys” when you keep getting singled out. 

Aaron’s words of wisdom to the kids went something like this:

“You may hear people tell you that it’s not whether you win or lose, as long as you have fun.  That’s the STUPIDEST thing I ever heard.  Of course it matters if you win or lose.  WINNING is fun. “ 


I'm guessing that Aaron isn't a proponent of trophies for participation.  He went on to explain that losing is not the end of the world, but that you should always be trying your hardest, trying to win. 

The third, and final, day of camp she confirmed that her favorite part of football is tackling.  After the camp, one little boy asked for her phone number.  Is it possible she’s ahead of her years and sees this as a great way to find a boyfriend?  Phone numbers aside, she decided that tackle football is what she wants to do.  I took the opportunity to point out what I thought she had missed.

“You do realize that if you can tackle them, they can tackle you too?”

“Well duh, Mom!”

“I’m just saying….You haven’t mastered catching the ball because you claim it hurts your hands.  Do you really think having a boy tackle you isn’t going to hurt?”

“That’s what the pads are for”

Silly me.  That must be why football players never get hurt.  They wear pads. 

At this point I remind myself that this is the same child who broke her wrist by falling off our deck.  Perhaps wearing pads isn’t such a bad idea.

I set about doing my research (via the internet) to find my daughter a tackle football league.  I convinced her Dad that it would be a good idea to let her play.  Rachel thinks she’s won the lottery.  Then I got some more details.  That’s when I had to crush her dreams of tackle football.

Apparently in Omaha, tackle football (even for 9-year-olds) is something to be taken seriously.  While they are happy to accept girls, they will be practicing four times a week to start and will then drop to three times per week.  WHAT???  I explain this to Rachel and her immediate reaction is “When will I have time to do my chores and homework?”  It is at this moment, that I can feel my heart start to grow.  Rachel, this same girl who typically despises homework and acts as if chores are punishment, was concerned about having time for them.  Forget her dreams of the NFL-----now I must be dreaming. 

I explain to Rachel that I’m not going to spend more than half my week in South Omaha; that there are four of us in this family and that one of her interests cannot consume that much of our time.  Furthermore, games are on Sundays.  What happened to keeping the Sabbath holy?  Call me old-fashioned but I kind of like this commandment.  It’s how I get my week off to a good start.  Elisabeth prefers to think of it as ending the week on a good note.  (Scripturally, she is more accurate as you work for six days and rest on the seventh.)  Either way, football will not take precedence in our schedule over church.  She is disappointed but she understands. 

I have tackled her dreams of playing tackle football. 

I’m not sure who feels worse.  Maybe I can find her a tackle dummy so that she can practice tackling in the safety of our backyard.  With some pads.  Away from the spot where she broke her wrist. 

In the meantime, she’ll have to find another way to get a boyfriend.