Locks of Love From My Lovely

My sweet little nine-year-old has been growing out her hair for a long time, for a few specific purposes. First, she wanted to be Ariel at Halloween.

Then, she wanted to be a ravishing, long haired vampire for a musical she was in.

Then, she wanted to have long Tiger Lily braids for her role in her latest play. But most of all, she’s been waiting to grow her hair long enough to donate it.

Ever since we read a book called Because of Anya, by Margaret Peterson Haddix, about a girl with alopecia who is trying to conceal it from her friends, my nine-year-old has wanted to give her hair to someone who doesn’t have enough of their own.

This past week, we went to our hairdresser and had it chopped into two piggie tails of love. It will be sent off to Locks of Love to make a wig for someone who really needs it. She’s hoping it will go to a child about her own age. She’s also hoping they will choose to dye the other hair needed in the wig to match hers. Whatever happens to it, I am pleased with my girl. She loved her hair and still sort of misses it (Mom does, too), but wanted to make someone’s life a little brighter by sharing a piece of herself. Hopefully we can all find a way to do that for someone else.

Silence Isn’t Always Golden

 

      As any parent of a toddler knows, having your child out of your sight is dangerous.  Having your child absolutely silent while out of your sight portends great evil.  And having your child silent, out of your sight, and gone for more than five minutes usually means you’ll deeply regret not having investigated sooner.

A few days ago, I was reading to both of my younger girls.  Since it was the five-year-old’s turn to sit on my lap, my two-year-old wandered away.  The five-year-old and I were luxuriating in the opportunity to snuggle close with nothing but a book between us (i.e.no jealous two-year-old trying to push her sister out of my lap.)  I should have known those ten minutes would come with a consequence.  When I finally investigated, I found this:

 

 

 

I’m not sure how her doggie got so “hurt”, but my two-year-old  kept repeating, “Doggie needs Band-Aids”.  She had already used up the entire box except three, so I didn’t fight three more.  My two-year-old is rather proud of her handiwork.   The five-year-old even joined in applying the last two Band-Aids.  I’m just glad they were a dollar store purchase so they didn’t break the bank.  The next time it’s too quiet, I’ll have to investigate a little sooner.

One Reason I Read to my Kids

I love having my kids sit in my lap, touch the glossy pages of a picture book and snuggle close as magical words tumble from my mouth straight into their imaginations. A trip to library is cause for great rejoicing and cause for me to skip my arms workout since I routinely max out my thirty-five item limit on my library card. The librarians only slightly raise their eyebrows as they see the massive stack I schlep up to the counter every other week.

Today after lunch as we were going about our reading ritual, my five-year-old was nestled in my lap, drinking in the words of a particularly wonderful book. The book, Boxes for Katje, told the tale of a little girl living in Holland right after WWII who received a care package from America. The book carefully catalogued the extreme lack of resources this girl, her family and her entire village experienced. Then, it explained how another girl, from America, the land of plenty, marshaled the forces in her town to alleviate some of that need.
I was so struck by the goodness of both girls–Katje, who immediately shared all she was sent, and Rosie who kept hearing of needs and filling them– that my heart welled up and found its way into my tear ducts.
After finishing the book, my five-year-old looked me in my still-glistening eyes and said, “We’re so blessed, Mommy, aren’t we? We have food to eat, and warm clothes to wear, and blankets for our beds and toys to play with. I want to help someone like Rosie did. Can I get some of my money for the Christmas Jar?”

As my Kindergartener ran into her room to retrieve her purse with her small savings, I reflected on how another book had caused our family to start a tradition about five or so years ago. Every year we fill a Christmas Jar with cash all year long and decide, through prayer, who should receive the funds from it. It has anonymously gone to neighbors, family members, charities that help purchase livestock, and a local family shelter.

While my five-year-old enthusiastically placed her contribution into the jar, I gave thanks for good literature. I could have lectured all day on giving and helping others, but a well-told story from the author’s family history accompanied by beautiful artwork ignited a desire in my daughter’s heart that all my words would have never done. Read to your kids. You’re changing their lives, and perhaps even the lives of countless others, for the better.