Children of God

I'm reading for my psychology class today about the development of morals in early children. I found this interesting.
Piaget noted that young children have their design of morality around the concepts of rules that are established by an authority. They are absolute.
This makes sense if you 've ever tried to watch 2 young children play a game. "You can't to that...it's the rules." It also works if you are the authority. "Because I said so" is enough to get a response. It's as if in their little brains, it's not possible to be disobedient.
However the next step is for children to figure out that "rules" are flexible and don't necessarily have to be followed. Maybe this is where rebellion is developed. They see it is possible to not do it. "Mom says..." does not have the same effect it use to.
But Piaget's third phase of moral development happens when children develop playmates for cooperation. There is a morality of reciprocity and not just obedience.
This is when relationships occur. Children play and work together in ways, not because it is a rule, or because mom says,but because it enhances the quality of the relationship.

I recognize how much my faith has develops like this. How about you? We've all known new Christian who is so excited to learn and share all the rules?

You can't get drunk. You can't have sex. You can't tell lies. Why? Because God says so. It's the rules.
But somewhere down the line we figure out....umm, yeah, you actually can. You can do whatever you really want to, regardless of what God says. You don't have to be obedient.
But finally we begin to develop a relationship with Him, that is actually a relationship. It occurs if we learn the morality of reciprocity and not just obedience.
It's no longer about rules. It's about enhancing the quality or relationship with Him.
Interesting

Cathartic

I was awakened by my cell phone ringing. Before I was fully conscious I was down the stairs and fishing it out from the bottom of my purse.
Bryan calling it read.
“Bless his heart” I thought. “He doesn’t realize it’s 2 am here in Swaziland.”
But he did realize.
“We’ve had to take dad to the hospice center…. unresponsive….”
I was surprised at my calm. “Are you telling me it’s time to come home?”
“Sweetie, the nurses say he won’t make it 24 hours. There’s no time for you to come home…you need to say your good-byes now on the cell phone.”
I told him I’d just woken up. I needed a second to shake the sleep out of my head, - had to go pee. I told him I would call him back.
I calmly closed the phone.
How do you say goodbye? I wondered. Numb and dazed I wandered to the bathroom. The numb began to fade and I began to cry. I wasn’t ready to let go. I was planning on going home to see him one last time.
I scolded myself for crying now when I needed to put myself together. I needed to be strong for him one last time. I didn’t want him to worry about me. I wanted to assure him I’d be okay.
I dried my tears, steeled my spine and dialed 13 digits into my brother’s pocket.
He put the phone to my dad’s ear. “It’s Christy” he said, and my dad lifted his head to listen.
“He can’t talk” Bryan had warned me, “But he’s aware.”
How do you say goodbye?
I couldn’t do it.
So I prayed instead.
I thanked Jesus for giving him to me as my dad, and released him back into His care.
And I assured dad that I would be alright.
I ended the conversation with my brother’s promise to call me every few hours.
By 6am he was gone.
Susan came quickly to comfort me. She was the only one I could bear to face. Her quiet strength and peaceful heart were my support.
She just listened.
And I’ll never forget the deep sadness I felt as I pulled back the heavy drapes in my dining room, revealing a beautiful sunrise and beautiful exotic flowers blooming in the Africa beyond them.
Oh how he loved flowers.
I began to weep again.
It’s going to be such a beautiful day here on Earth… and he won’t be here to see it.
But almost as an afterthought came the realization, He does see it, but just from another angle. He can still enjoy the beauty of creation.
I had to smile at the thought of him walking mile after mile of gloriously created gardens, with blooms that never wither. Now he can walk as far as he’d like, and not lose his breath or have to rest.
I’ve have missed him often these past 2 years,-when the daffodils bloomed, when the garden grew like crap, when the horses ran around the race track, when I found his childhood stocking at the bottom of the box of decorations, when Jack Nicholson vomited in The Bucket List, when I play Farmville….
I miss him still.

I know it's been a long time. Nothing to write about...and that's a problem in more ways than one.
I'm currently reading Donald Miller's A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. If you haven't you should. 1,- because it's a good book and 2- because none of this will make sence if you haven't read it.
But this book speaks to my heart. I can relate to writing all of my ideas on paper only to find that others have been living their lives in reality as I lived mine on a computer screen. I can relate to wanting a bigger story. I can relate to saving a few cats, but thinking,- what for? The audience will root for me, but is the audience rooting for?
I need a bigger story. Well acutally, I feel like I need a story period. I've ceased to live life since coming home. Hence the lack of blogs.
No Donald Miller, if you are reading this, I don't need life to write, just the opposite. But it's the lack of enthusiasm caused by living life that had kept me from writing.
I don't know how my big story should go, but I've known for years that it's out there. I'm looking for it. And in the meantime I'm hunting for creative scenes.
(See, I told you it wouldn't make sence)