Cash Clan Japan

My children have all inherited both their father’s tender conscience and my transparency. Not sure if that’s fortunate or unfortunate for them. And so none of them can get away with much at all. Poor things. I’m noticing lately that each of them has their very own red herring that gives them away when they’ve done something wrong:

For Claire, she gets this very specific whiny tone. When she employs that tone, I can be 99% sure she done it.

For Adam, it’s teary puppy dog eyes if he knows he’s in the wrong. But actually he usually confesses before it even comes to that. He’s a tender little shoot.

And then there’s Ben, the inspiration for this particular topic. Benjamin has  historically been the trickiest one to indict. But lately, he has been doing something quite humorous to incriminate himself. When he’s the guilty party, he will cover his butt. Literally. He’ll walk in the room with his hands on his butt, and I ask him, “Ben, what did you do?” Poor little Pavlovian thing.

The last couple years, we’ve brought the kids to our military base’s youth talent show, always certain to be filled a variety of interesting treats for the ears and eyes. I’m a total talent junkie, so I can’t resist this kind of thing. So last year on the way home from the show, our 5 year-old Claire announced that she wanted to be in the talent show the next time they had it. At that point, she had NEVER sung in front of anyone but her immediate family, and anytime I asked her to do so, she would clam up and make her super-shy long face at me. Certainly some would say that Claire is on the bashful side, at least in uncertain situations. But throughout this past year, she has expressed the desire to bust out of her shell, much to my delight. Back in February, she wanted quite badly to audition for a part in a production of “The Wizard of Oz” and she really, really wanted to sing a solo, she told me. She auditioned, and indeed was given a small solo part. And she did just fine! But much to my terror, she never forgot about the talent show. So when the time came to sign her up, I asked her if she really, really, really wanted to do it. I probed her tirelessly to get a feel for if this child would really get up on stage in front of several hundred people and sing. She has a beautiful voice which we get to enjoy on a daily basis at the Cash household. But quite honestly, I was terrified that she’s get up there and go into shell-shock and then be traumatized forever from the prospect of singing in front of people. But all year long, she would hear a song in the car, and then ask me, “what do you think about this one for the talent show?” She picked her own song. (I was shooting for a classic like “What a Wonderful World” or “Over the Rainbow.”) But she insisted after hearing it just once that “Three Little Birds” (a Bob Marley tune!) was what she wanted to sing. So we practiced and practiced and practiced. Okay, so she did have a slight edge having a singer-mom for a coach perhaps. But even the day before the show, when her dance teacher allowed her to rehearse in front of her peers, she clammed. Didn’t do her choreography, didn’t sing loud enough to be heard, etc. But later on when I asked her if she was really, really, really sure about doing this, and gave her a safe chance to back out, she looked me straight in the eye and gave me the lowdown:”Mom, I know I’m shy. But I have to practice being on stage so I won’t be afraid anymore. Because I’m supposed to sing!”

So okay, I let my 6 year-old baby get up on stage in front of all those people. She was actually first on the program, so my blood pressure wasn’t too high for long enough to do any permanent damage. But I have to tell you, I was completely elated and delighted when she did her thing last night. And then the little stinker WON! She won 1st place in the junior division and a $500 savings bond for college. We are so proud of our little songbird!

Yesterday, when Sam had a very loud poop explosion during storytime, Benjamin exclaimed,

“He’s got fireworks in his pants!!”

This morning, immediately after I finished pumping some milk, Ben asked me,

“Mom, are you done with your milk buttons?”

“Mom, look, I brought you a hooker!”

I was cleaning out Adam’s closet. This is what he meant.

The other night during our family devotional, Claire asked a question that neither Keith nor I had an easy answer for. We had just started a new kids’ bible (I have this fetish of finding solid childrens’ bibles if anyone has suggestions. Some of them are absolute theological poo.). And we were reading the story of Adam & Eve, and at the end of the story, Claire asked us, “If God didn’t want them to eat from that tree, why did He put that tree in the garden?” Hmmmmm….How do you explain that to a 6 year-old?? (Or a 16 year-old? Or a 56 year-old?) Now Keith’s about to graduate from seminary and I’ll kick your butt in Bible Trivia any day of the week (bring it on!) , but that is not an easy question, people. I won’t bore you with our answer; that’s not the point. And get your own answer! But what I need to get off my chest here is how incredibly proud I was of my daughter at that moment–for thinking critically and for daring to ask one of the hard questions. She’s done it before, but this one was a biggie. I mean, that’s a really hard question! That question has gotten people in trouble, I’m sure. Lesser ones have gotten me in trouble anyway.

I think a lot of people are afraid of the hard questions, but above all, I think the “religious” people are afraid of them. I must confess, I didn’t learn to ask the hard questions in church. In fact, I would sadly say that I was perhaps quietly discouraged from asking them there. In high school, I had this crazy-awesome atheist teacher named Mr. McDowell who was legendary for picking on Christian students. He was AWESOME, to this day the best teacher I ever had. Urban legend was that he was a Sunday School teacher before he turned to the dark side. He asked the hard questions, some of them I absolutely could not even begin to answer as a teenager. I’ll never, ever forget his vivid word-picture of the Roman punishment of crucifixion; Mr. McDowell made me understand the price that Jesus paid for me, and I sat in his class with grateful tears in my eyes, just before he promptly snatched them up with the biting fact that thousands of people were crucified back then, and “so what?” if Jesus was too. Not an easy question for a 16 year-old, brand new Christian . I remember there being Christian adults, youth leaders in particular, who almost seemed to despise Mr. McDowell for how he tried to shake the Christians kids. But Mr. MacDowell did more for my faith than any of my Sunday School teachers. Rather than hide behind the easy “because He says so” answers, I started to ask the hard questions of God, not through a lens of contempt, but through one of faith. (That makes a whole lot of difference.) And over the years, the questions have just kept a’ comin’. My brain is a scary place. But when they come, I search out the Word of God, pray, read (a lot), and wait. Sometimes I find the answer I am hungry for. But I think more important even than that, I have also found the unshakable safe foundation called “because He says so.” Ironic, huh? Indeed, there are questions that we have to wait years to get answers for, aren’t there? (One of my all-time favorite book quotes–”There are years that ask questions, and years that answer them.” Name that book, smartie-pants friends!) And then there are the ones that we just won’t get answers for on this side of heaven. And you know what? I’ve become okay with that, even more than okay with it. But not from that place of generic complacency that plagues so many “religious folk.” You see, when I ask a question for which I can find no satisfying answer, I can just stretch out and rest on this bedrock: HE is much, much smarter than I am. And it certainly helps that I have become utterly convinced that He loves me and has my holiness and happiness in mind in His cosmic and daily dealings with me.

When Claire asked that very hard question, I practically jumped up and down with glee, in praise of her for the asking, then explained to her that there is no easy answer for that one, and encouraged her to keep asking those, because even when mom and dad don’t have the VBS-answers (and sometimes we won’t), there is Someone who does. And if she will dare to ask those questions of Him with a heart of faith, He will draw near to her and whisper His secrets in her ear, and rock her world as wonderfully as He has mine. (Thank you, Lord!)

It also makes me understand something suddenly. There have been times in my life when I asked those questions, and have been discouraged by church society for the asking. Was instead my Father in heaven feeling like I did when my precious Claire asked me an impossible question? (Inlove with her! Proud of her! Excited for her!) My eyes fill with tears and my heart with a daughter’s joy as I feel Him whisper that answer to me this morning…

I know, I know. I’ve been a total slacker as far as the blog goes. I’ve got a dozen blogs in my head that I’m still trying to make the time to actually get on here. I’m still trying to find my rhythm over here, to be honest, since we are now the proud parents of 4 beautiful children! I’m so sorry for those who aren’t on Facebook and haven’t already heard the news and seen the photos–Sam has arrived! Samuel Hudson Cash was born at 11:50am on Monday, March 16th, at 9 pounds and 10 ounces and 20 1/2 inches long. He has brown hair (our first baby with brown hair!) and beautiful dark blue eyes (so far), and he’s got a wonderful, easy temperament. He’s already rocking the Babywise schedule, waking up to nurse almost precisely every three hours, and going to sleep easily in between. And he loves the swing, which is also very good. (Adam and Ben both hated the swing, making it nearly impossible for me to get anything at all done when they were babies.) Thank you LORD!  He’s an adorable little eating/pooping/sleeping machine. He’s a month old tomorrow, and we’re seeing glimpses of the first smiles the last few days. It’s so amazing to do this all over again. Below are a  few of our favorite photos from the first few days. Sorry Ben’s not in any of these, but he was way too busy exploring the hospital room to sit still for photos! Enjoy!

So when he came out, he was understandably a little upset. Okay, he was sort of screaming his head off. But since I wasn’t high on ketamine this time (ask me to tell you the story of Benjamin’s birth sometime–I dare you), I was coherent enough to talk to him over there while they were putting me back together, and he immediately calmed down at the sound of my voice. The nurse who cleaned him up even mentioned later how amazing that was. I agreed.

Sam, meet Mom. Mom, meet Sam. I love his eyes in this one. And by the way, one of the perks of having a C-section is the luxury of being able to have your makeup on for these photos.

Claire was already an amazing big sister to her other two brothers. But wow, was this girl ready for a baby! She has been AMAZING. Every day when she comes home from school, she bypasses everyone/everything else and goes straight to Sam to hold him and kiss on him. She loves her baby brother, and she can calm him down just as quickly as Keith or I with her sweet smiles and tender talkin’.

Okay, we have an almost identical photo to this in the Benjamin files. Weird! Except Keith and I might both have just a few more lines around our eyes than in the photos three and half years ago.  Besides his darker hair, we are generally pretty astounded at how much Samuel looks like Benjamin actually. The first few days, we joked that maybe we should just name him Bennigan (as in Ben-again).  So yes, that makes three kids who resemble Keith and one (Adam) who actually resembles the one who bore him. That’s alright. I’ll get over it. Keith’s the better-lookin’ one anyway, in my honest opinion (that’s NOT a shout-out for compliments please). Survival of the fittest, I suppose.

And then there’s our Adam, who held my hand as I got my IV in, who asked me over and over the last few days of my pregnancy “when is that baby gonna come out?” and who held Samuel for the first time in stunned silence for several minutes, staring lovingly at him, and then sang over him a very sweet, personalized lullaby, and finally exclaimed to us, “He’s just so precious.”

Yes, he sure is, Adam. Precious he is indeed.