There is a strong sense of justice within my foam-sword toting preschoolers. They are boys; perhaps its in their very male blood. I certainly didn't teach them how to have a shootout with sticks. A stick to me is firewood, at best. To them, a good one could be a valuable rifle or revolver. Shiloh got upset when I enforced the no-sticks-in-the-house rule last week. He said it wasn't a stick, it was a machete. Fine, no machetes in the house, either. They are bad news for little brothers and furniture.
The boys wake up and put on armor before they even get dressed. After a quick swig from their morning cup of milk, they hurry into the living room to discuss strategy over the impending battle with the bad guys. They seem to be good at strategy. The bad guys never win.
I'm glad they want to stand for justice. There is right and wrong. There are rules. There are consequences. Coupled with that, we strive to be fair and equal. I try to pour the same amount of milk in each cup. Everyone gets the basic idea of taking turns. We don't leave anyone out during colds or flu. That's fairness. Of course, they take it further. If your brother hits you, you hit him back - to be just and fair. They really grasp the concept of "eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth."
My five year old shed some light on the subject recently, after matter-of-factly smacking his four year old antagonist with righteous indignation. When it was made clear that this was not acceptable to his mommy, the five year old pled the "Do to others" mantra - with great emphasis on the first part. They know the golden rule, sort of - I've even heard Henry preach to his siblings, "Do to odders what you want!" Whatever you want men to do to you, do also to them. Matthew 7:12
And it dawned on me how they were interchanging the two verses to make them both fall under the law. "An eye for an eye - do also to them." Hmm. We've been spending a great deal of time and my energy disciplining recently, enforcing rules. The two year old is acting his age, learning his limits by testing them. The older two are hearing about judgement at the end of the world in Sunday school, and at home we've been reading through the time of the judges in Israel's early history. My little soldiers in plastic helmets have gotten the message that there are rules that must be obeyed.
Gavin wants to be a fighter jet pilot when he grows up.
Henry wants to be a policeman.
I think Shiloh just wants to be a hockey player and hit things really hard with sticks.
Its time to learn mercy.
What does the Lord require of you, but to do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God? Micah 6:8
For I desire mercy... Hosea 6:6
The Lord laid out the law before He could offer mercy from it. But then He did extend mercy, again and again, countless times. Often, as I find myself stuck in these foundational stages of development with toddlers, my focus is establishing the rules. Constantly. It must be so, initially. Everyone must learn parameters, and toddlers learn by bumping into them. Four year olds delight in seeing them justly enforced (on someone else.) But for my five year old - at least - it is time to build on the foundation of justice with an other-worldly concept. Mercy. I am allowed to not always serve justice when it is deserved. Why? I've experienced mercy. I've broken rules when I knew better. I'm supposed to be a grown up, (ha!) but I still break rules sometimes. I've surpassed the speed limit and not gotten a ticket. I've eaten chocolate when I should have eaten vegetables. I've even lied and said I didn't know where the book was that they wanted to read for the bazillionth time. I am despicable. But I do like not getting what I deserve.
Now, here's the secret. Shiloh, yesterday, was playing with some matchbox cars. A younger brother came up behind him, stole a truck, and ran away. Normally, a screech, a chase and a beating ensue until big brother gets his stolen property back. This time, Shiloh said, "Hey!" But instead of chasing, he went over to the car box and simply got another toy. Little brother, halfway to the kitchen already, was confused by not being chased. He even came back in and held the pilfered loot tantalizingly near his brother. Nothing. He can easily take out brother. I was amazed. I almost wanted to say, "Shiloh, you can chase him if you want." But I didn't. I just smiled and thanked my four year old teacher for being an example. To me. Rather than exacerbating the condition, he halted the pilfering disease in its tracks. It was beautiful and humbling.
I want to be like him when I grow up.
Especially if I can learn some of his sword fighting skills by then.
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