Holy Sponges

Adrian is at such a fantastic age!  He is just taking in everything he sees and hears – and repeating them.  Last night during bath time, while playing with the foam letters we have that stick to the side of the tub when wet, he attempted to put one of Lilly’s teethers on the side.  I explained to him it doesn’t stick, and took it out of the tub.  A few minutes later, while listening to him repeat over and over a strange new phrase that sounded vaguely like a certain male body part (or nickname for Richard) and getting a little concerned, I saw him holding another bath toy up against the tub wall.  Ah-ha: “nosnt sdick” - Doesn’t stick!  “That’s right Adrian, that star doesn’t stick” (unlike concepts and words with you!)  We heard it again this morning while I was brushing my teeth, as he showed me that his stuffed Beluga whale “nost sdick.”  The kid loves his new-found favorite words/concept (until tonight, when he’ll no doubt pick-up something new to become his favorite).  From repeating things over and over and over to help him learn, and celebrating when he finally got them, to now barely saying something once and having it explode from his mouth constantly, this little boy has become such a sponge! 

I once had a missioner thank me for being a “sponge.”  I wasn’t sure how it was a compliment, and when I asked him to clarify, he explained that he believes that Christ came to earth to be a sponge.  Christ came as a newborn child, empty of concepts and words and theories and preconceived notions and judgments and all.  Christ came, and grew, among us and like a sponge simply soaked up all that was human, allowing himself to learn from others.  And we too can enter any given situation with the attitude of a sponge – emptied of ourselves and ready to listen, to soak up, to learn, to grow and gain from those around us, ready to let the divine (hidden in the human) penetrate us completely. 

As I see how much of a sponge my little man is right now, I find myself in wonderment at the image of the young Christ child.  If Jesus was in fact a sponge in this way, then he must have been surrounded by very incredible people – those who taught him not only all about humanity and its many flaws, but those who taught him also about love and relationship and community and the love of his Father, and the ways in which all those things can be found even amidst the flaws of humanity.  I can just picture Mary and Joseph asking Jesus not to play with Dadda Joseph's hammer and nails or he'd get hurt, only to hear "no, no; owies" each time the little boy nears a nail afterwards.  And Jesus’ aunts, uncles and cousins telling Jesus not to go in the river or he’d get wet, and him walking around pointing at water, shaking his head while repeating, "wet; no wet" for the next several weeks.  Or his parents asking him to be quiet at synagogue because "Rabbi is telling a story about Yahweh who loves us;" and then instantly regretting having said it because the remainder of the service includes a little boy’s distinctive voice calling out "yawee luv mamma; yawee luv;’ (and while pointing at the Rabbi) ‘yawee luv there’ (and when they asked him to be quiet again) ‘yawee luv louwd; no LOUWD.” (strangely enough, Jesus’ little boy voice sounds oddly like my son’s)  Yes, if Jesus was a sponge, then he must have had some great examples teaching him, because in the end that sponge learned a lot about life, about what washes and what hurts, about what to do and not to do, about sacredness and humanness all around us. 

That sponge turned out to be pretty darn wise, just, holy and loving – all things I hope for my own little sponge(s). 

I guess that means that I need to be a good example.  I have to be sure that the things I do and say around my children are things I want them to soak up.  I have to be sure that I am not only not doing/saying things I don’t want them to learn, but that I am saying and doing things that show them wisdom, justice, holiness, love, GOD.  I need to live in such a way that demonstrates the divine hidden among our humanity.  And though I can guarantee that I am no Mamma Mary (and my husband, though great, is no Joseph), I can still try.  I can enter each moment of my mothering like a sponge myself – emptying myself and ready to listen, to learn, to grow and gain – from other parents, from my spouse, from the Holy Spirit and from my kids.  I think the missioner was right – we all can, and should, enter situations like this, because we never know when little (or even big) sponges may be soaking up the things that we’re doing and saying. 

This is just yet another way that my children are teaching me about GOD and life.  I just hope I allow it to “sdick!”