Emma is just in kindergarten and in both preschool and kindergarten she has been one of maybe three or four white children in classes of 20-25 kids. Just going to our neighborhood grocery store or park is like attending a world cultures assembly. Needless to say, she is just used to everyone around her looking different. When she describes her friends at school, she never mentions skin color and instead differentiates her friends by the sort of hair they have. She knows and celebrates that different cultures have different holidays and types of food, but until now she has had little need to understand the construct of race.

So in discussing the world before and after Martin Luther King Jr. we had a hard time introducing her to the concept. At first we tried to explain that segregation meant that she wouldn’t have been able to be in the same school as her two closest friends (who happen to be African-American). She then wanted to know who had done something wrong to prevent them from all going to the same school. We tried to explain about skin color and race then, but she really wasn’t getting it. As far as she knows it is perfectly normal for everyone around her to have different colors of skin (and to speak with all sorts of accents), trying to explain that that didn’t used to be the case was beyond her 5 year old mind.

While I completely understand the need to teach the sins of the past so that they will not be repeated (and restitution can be made), I had to wonder if this lesson on race could do her more harm than good. If my daughter sees no reason why people would ever be different because of skin color, I don’t want to be the one explaining to her the alternative (and I completely realize here that this may be a dilemma only those in positions of cultural power wrestle with which adds a whole different dimension). As I faced this dilemma, I was reminded of the time I read her the (controversial) book And Tango Makes Three about a baby penguin that was adopted by two penguin daddies. The book that had adults all up in arms for presenting the existence of same-sex relationships to children was for her no big deal. To her a book solely about a penguin getting two daddies was boring – what others saw as extreme she accepted as normal. In that instance, I decided very quickly that I wasn’t going to try to convince her that her definition of normal wasn’t universal.

But I’m uncertain in this situation how to best guide her through these issues. I know I need to teach her truth and expose her to reality, but I don’t want to corrupt her heart by being the one to teach her about racism, bigotry, or sexism simply because I am speaking against them. I assume the evils of the world will make themselves known to her eventually, but I’d rather her think being kind and loving to all people regardless of differences is the normal way to be for as long as possible. But I am still left with days like today and school worksheets asking me to teach her about a great man by destroying what she thinks is normal. And I don’t know what to do.

Check out the other great posts as well -
Intergenerational Friendships as Spiritual Practice by Dave Zimmerman
Unemployment as Spiritual Practice by Stephen Herbert
The Spiritual Discipline of Editing by Marcus Goodyear
Living in Transition as Spiritual Practice – Guy Chmieleski
The Spiritual Practice of Apologizing by T Freeman

Love-making as a Spiritual Practice by Mark Scandrette

Smoking the Glory of God by Jason Clark

The Spiritual Practice of Getting Honest With Myself by Jonathan Brink

Spiritual Discipline–Serving at the Pantry by Maria Henderson

Yoga and Jesus: This is a Spiritual Practice by Christina Whitehouse-Sugg

Driving as Spiritual Discipline by Reverend Mother

Between the Sheets: Sleeping as Spiritual Discipline by Teri Peterson

Brigid Walsh – Gleaning as Spiritual Practice

Bowie Snodgrass – Grief as Spiritual Practice

Thomas Turner – Engagement as Spiritual Practice

Stan Thornburg – Making Space for the Rabbi

Gary Heard – Encountering the Stranger as Spiritual Practice and GPS Navigation as Spiritual Practice

Jason Fowler – Listening for God’s Voice in Music

Sheila Hight – Birdkeeping as Spiritual Practice

Steve Taylor – Composting as Spiritual Practice

John O’Hara – Anyone Can Cook – Spirituality in the Kitchen

Bethany Stedman – crying as a spiritual practice

Christopher Heuertz – Feeling close to God in the graveyard

Gerard Kelly – twittering as a spiritual practice –

Tim Mathis – blogging as as a spiritual practice

Mary Naegeli – Writing a sermon as spiritual practice

Hannah Haui – Cultural Protocol as spiritual practice

Jamie Arpin Ricci – Pet Ownership as spiritual practice

Matt Stone – Listening to Enemies as Spiritual Practice

Dan Cooper – Washing Dishes as Spiritual Discipline

Maryellen Young – The spiritual practice of taking a shower

virtual Eucharist: Is this a spiritual practice

Is Breathing a Spiritual Practice

I like this approach to learning about the faith.  I like that the children are encouraged to speak up and explore what they believe and the rituals of the faith.  They aren't told to just be quiet and learn what the teacher wants them to know.  In the Seder tradition, there are no bad or wrong questions.  The child who asks the tricky or even the silly questions is not looked down upon, what is worrisome is the child who asks no questions.  Wrestling with faith or even attacking the faith are preferred to passively and unthinkingly going through the motions of faith.

My daughter is four, and is a chatterbox incessantly asking "why?".  One of her favorite shows is Sid the Science Kid, a show about a preschool boy who each morning runs into a question he has about the world and then asks that question at preschool where the day is then spent answering his question.  She finds that fascinating, and loves the experimental approach they take to figuring out the answers.  I watch the show with her with chagrin.  No school (or Sunday school) is truly like that – allowing the inquisitive nature of kids guide the learning process.  While I understand the impracticalities of such a method, I wonder at what stage kids learn that questioning is bad.  Where absorbing facts, memorizing concepts, and reproducing them when asked replaces wondering about the world and wrestling with truth?  Even in Seminary my husband says the professors play the poor pedagogical game of having students parrot back the answer they want to hear.  Education has become about amassing information instead of learning to think.

So I want to tell the stories to my daughter and to enact the rituals of the faith with her, but I want her to know that those too can (and must) be questioned.  She shouldn't just learn about her faith, she needs to live it.

The argument for violent video games was twofold. First that violence is a good thing. Chris Crawford, a video game designer, said that for young boys "everything about their psychologies is oriented around establishing their identities through physical conflict." He believes that it is healthy for boys to acknowledge this violence and that "too many mothers, in particular, attempt to suppress this … and all they succeed in doing is robbing their boys of their ability to become men." So apparently if I don't like the idea of my son (no mention of my daughter) playing at killing people then I am keeping him from becoming a man? Or at least according to the game designer who I am sure must also have a Ph.D. in child psychology, right?.

My bigger issue was with the other argument for violent video games – that there is no evidence that links violent media and violent behavior. While I could dispute that argument, my main concern is that that's not really the point. For so long this whole debate has been framed as to whether or not playing violent video games will cause kids to join gangs or do a school shooting – as if those personal acts of violence are the only issue at stake. What I would rather see the debate focus on is in what ways playing at violence as children makes a person immune to systemic violence. Sure they may not pick up a gun and go on a rampage, but do they become more apathetic to others doing just that? Would we be perhaps more offended and outraged at the killing of innocents in the war in Iraq or the genocide in Darfur if we were not so accustomed to doing such things in the nursery so to speak? Individual personal violent acts are somewhat rare in "polite" society (whatever that means), but condoning systemic violence is almost expected. Could that be the real legacy of violent media?

I'm not saying that I don't struggle with this or that I think violent media should be banned. Just that I think the issue is far more complex and far-reaching than the arguments generally imply.

I found myself reflected on the pages of this book. I know I have tried to pass off my fake id – attempting to fit into a one-size-fits-all motherhood mold. Caryn pointed out though the hypocrisy in encouraging my kids to develop as unique individuals while I gave up my identity at the motherhood door. That's not the sum of who God created me to be, and if I want to truly follow him I need to claim my full identity. Moms shouldn't feel guilty to be themselves, explore their gifts, and follow Christ. Caryn affirms that it's okay to be more than a mom, be upset at the stupid ways our culture treats moms, and admit our frustrations as moms. She affirms that we are not alone in dealing with the loneliness and loss of self that plagues the modern American mother. And that people who think that moms have all the free time in the world are just clueless.

But at the same time, this book provides resources in learning how to be content as a mom. This doesn't involve striving to be someone you are not (including the perfect domestic goddess mother). It doesn't limit mothers or try to strip them of their God-given talents and identity. But it does involve learning to be grateful for what we have right now – being thankful in all circumstances. But this is a contentment that also doesn't allow us to be held back by perceived limitations or our own insecurities. But to simply allow ourselves to be affirmed in who we truly are – and extend that affirmation to others. It's a call to moms to discard our fake ids and to question the expectations placed upon us (often by ourselves). This isn't about being selfish or self-consumed, but about being real. Being ourselves is just far healthier, more spiritually authentic, and provides a better example for our kids anyway.

So this book is seriously great. And I am excited for it's potential to help moms throw away those fake ids and the identity crises that motherhood provokes. Many of us need that reminder – or more importantly, that permission – to be who God created us to be. So I highly recommend that you read this book. Moms need to read it for sure – but so do dads, and non-parents, and pastors, and moms group leaders, and everyone else. Until the false identity messages are overcome, moms will have a hard time finding ways to fully serve God. This book can help dismantle those false messages, and give moms the encouragement we so deeply need. So go buy the book – give it to all your friends, pass it out to your playgroup, give it to the church library – it's a book that needs to be read.

(and btw – the book cover actually isn't hot pink, it's a nice shade of red.  Just thought I'd mention that for all of you who are like me and hate women's books that are pink…)

As I posted on the blog –

This blog originally emerged as the result of a conversation at the 2007 Emergent Gathering. While many of us were eager to explore our own faith and dig deep into the hard questions, we were less sure about what that meant for our kids. Do we just continue molding their faith in the traditional ways even as we question those very traditions ourselves? How do we integrate our values of justice, sustainability, and simplicity into this fast-paced consumeristic world? What does it even mean to raise kids in a connected pluralistic world?

We all realized that navigating our way through these questions is something that must be done in community. We can bring our questions to each other, share our ideas, and be there to encourage each other along the way. Having the space of a blog to do that seemed like a perfect way to connect with each other. And over the past year this blog has served to host such discussion and provide that encouragement.

So to help spark the conversation anew here, we are relaunching the blog in this new format. I (Julie Clawson), Sarah-Ji, and Brett Watson will serve as moderators to help bring meaningful topics and resources up for consideration here. But this will still be a space fueled by those interested in exploring parenting in this emerging postmodern world. We need your input and submissions to create the conversation here. So send us your stories, articles, pictures, book and movie reviews, and questions. Write about that conversation you had with your preschooler before bed or ways you see your teen reaching out to others. Tell us about that family activity or what you’re struggling with. We make this conversation what we want it to be. (send any submission to emergingparents (at) gmail (dot) com).

So drop by the blog and join in the conversation there!

Of course this is historic. In a country that 150 years ago enslaved Africans and in living memory segregated blacks from whites, overcoming that history is powerful no matter who you voted for. That said I can't join the chorus rejoicing that the dream is now open to all. Why? Because in all truth it isn't (I'll explain in a moment) and because I don't support that particular dream.

Electing a black man as president is huge, there is no denying that. But that doesn't by default mean that anyone can achieve the same. There has been much talk about glass ceilings during this election cycle, but I am still unsure if a woman could be elected President in this country. With so many churches still preaching the inferiority of women, blatant sexism is still too accepted to be so easily overcome. Even the reactions to the election results demonstrate the undercurrents of racism in our country. Down here in Texas a noose was hung from a tree at a major university and a UT football player was kicked off the team for a racial slur he posted on Facebook. Barriers to freedom and equality are still alive and well. And does anyone really think that a Muslim, or an Atheist, or a LGBT person could be elected president? Someday perhaps, but that dream is still too flimsy to grasp. There is still much work to be done and our celebrations shouldn't lull us into complacency.

But as I mentioned on Eugene Cho's blog the other day, I am uncomfortable with dangling the dream of becoming President of the USA as the ultimate achievement. When encouraging my children in their life path, I don't want to convey to them that obtaining the highest level of power and prestige possible is the target they should be aiming for. I am all for empowering them to be who they are meant to be (even if that is president), but I want to avoid encouraging the will to power so to speak. I'm also not a fan of defining success as making lots of money and presenting the whole doctor/lawyer/banker career option as an ideal either. I want them to believe that a successful life involves fulfilling the command to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God. Money and power are incidental to achieving those things (and often obstacles as well). Of course doctors, lawyers, bankers and perhaps even president can live in those ways but so can teachers, artists, baristas, and parents. I want to tell my kids that they can be anything they want to be, I just don't want to encourage them to want the wrong things.

So as we bask in the historic moment, I hope the dream we promote is one of justice. The hammer of justice can break down barriers and empower the disenfranchised, but it is wielded not in the name of power but in the name of love.

A few years ago breastfeeding made major headlines when Mothering Magazine was pulled from various store shelves for featuring a breastfeeding baby on the cover. As I recall the general response I heard (mostly from Christians online) was that the cover was inappropriate – potentially causing men to stumble. The response revealed the assumption that breasts are solely sexual (as opposed to maternal and nurturing) – an assumption deeply ingrained in our culture. Well in the recent Sept/Oct issue of Mothering Magazine Professor Sarah Rubenstein-Gillis' article "Reel Milk" explored the depiction of breastfeeding in popular films and what that has to say about our culture. And the article has once again caused quite a stir as the media is forced to examine its assumptions and objectifications of women.

Despite being recommended by the WHO, CCD, and AAP and the way God created women to feed their children, breastfeeding is still difficult for women in America. From hospital nurses insisting on feeding newborns formula, to lack of pumping time at work it is an uphill battle that many American women abandon after just a few weeks. So as the article explored, cultural conceptions and presentations of breastfeeding can affect maternal habits. As the author writes -

while it seems unlikely that the way infant feeding is depicted in any given film would, by itself, make or break a viewer's resolve to breastfeed her child, each portrayal becomes part of a cumulative set of images and perspectives gathered over a lifetime that, consciously or not, can influence the way a person thinks and feels about the subject. If specific messages are repeated often and strongly enough, they can begin to seem like "the norm" – and norms, as most sociologists would argue, often dictate behavior.

So how does Hollywood depict breastfeeding? Generally as either a joke or as sexual imagery. Men are shown fantasizing as women nurse, or prostitutes encouraged to breastfeed for the novelty factor for their clients, or the act of breastfeeding is the opening to an affair. And then there are the jokes (such as the "Mannary Gland" in Meet the Fockers)- apt to our culture's tendency to make light of whatever we are uncomfortable with or would rather not have to think about. And children's movies seem to send the message that nursing is for animal babies and bottles are for humans – shaping perception of what is normal for years to come. There are of course a few films that contain positive and natural examples of breastfeeding, but they are (of course) mostly independent and foreign films. The typical American blockbuster sends the message loud and clear that breasts are sexual objects only – to be ogled, objectified, and joked about.

Unfortunately even women play along in this objectification and discomfort. I found it amusing recently that at the MOPS group I attend the women (in a room full of other women) either leave the room or cover up to breastfeed. Feeding our children must be hidden. And I am part of that. I use a nursing shawl in public because I really don't want to deal with the crap (strange looks, requests to leave/cover-up) I get from complete strangers. But of course my cowardice to confront those who objectify me when I breastfeed only allows them to continue in that pattern.

So what do you think it will take for breastfeeding to be portrayed (and practiced) as "the norm" in America? Can breastfeeding be seen as natural and maternal, or is it impossible for our culture to see breasts as anything but sex objects?

We're museum members, so I generally take Emma there on weekdays after lunch (when it's not crowded). There's generally mostly moms and grandparents there with kids, and a respectable number of dads letting the kids play. I had never been on a Saturday before and from my aloof pregnancy observation post I was intrigued by the new variety of visitor present. At the risk of gender stereotyping, I will call him the "Engineer/CEO Dad."* The take charge and achieve perfection sort of dad. This is the dad who works a traditional schedule and so would never show up mid-week with the work-at-home, stay-at-home, flexible schedule dads. From what I typically see, most other parents at the museum might explain a certain exhibit to a kid, but they then let the kid play. The Engineer/CEO Dad jumped right in. Not to play with their kid per se, but to figure out how everything worked and to show their kid the right way to do things. If the kid was building a track for a ball to cascade down, the dad would jump in to improve on the design so it worked better. If the kid was building a tower of blocks, the dad would insist on strengthening the foundation so it wouldn't fall. The drums had to be played in rhythm and the manipulable shapes had to be made into a recognizable design. If their kid couldn't handle it, the dad did it for them.

I was fascinated. At first I was a bit annoyed – the point is about letting the kids discover things for themselves! Then I was convicted about how much I step-in to prevent Emma from having to struggle as she learns. Then I started to wonder about how much we as the church step in to prevent fellow Christians from struggling to figure things out for themselves. We want people to have all the right answers and especially the right theology. So instead of encouraging questions and self-discovery, we spoon feed answers. Not that I'm against education, but like these dads we assume we need to take charge of other people's spiritual journey. But will that actually help them learn or develop a deep faith? Or does it just lead them to parrot answers they don't really believe because they know those are the "right answers"? If we think allowing kids to discover things for themselves is good pedagogy, then why don't we allow the for the same when it comes to spiritual formation?

*(I am sure that dads who are Engineers (hi dad) and CEOs are great dads and that there are a lot of moms who act this way too… just observing what I saw)