Whenever Ginny is in the car, I am under instructions to put on one of three things: 1) "The Jesus CD" (think songs like "THE B-I-B-L-Eeeeeee") or 2) one of the stations that is now playing ALL CHRISTMAS ALL THE TIME, which wouldn't be so bad if they ever updated their playlists or didn't jam George Michaels songs right up against "O Holy Night," which is just plain wrong on many many levels.
Option 3 is one of the Ramona cds. One cd is a recording of Ramona the Pest, which Ginny enjoys because Ramona is so very awfully bad--Ginny can relate to Ramona but also to Beezus, who is deeply exasperated by her bratty little sister. The other cd requires you to skip forward in time about three years so that Ramona is 7 years old and her father is out of work (Ramona and her Father). Ginny likes this one because Ramona still does dumb stuff, like sticking a crown of burrs on her head, but so do other people, like Picky Picky the cat, who eats the family's jack-o-lantern. Ginny also likes hearing the story of Ramona's inadequate sheep suit, because it gives, I think, a voice to Ginny's own difficult-to-articulate 4 year old existential rage. The kind of rage that makes a little person sulk in the corner, smash a less-than-perfect Lego tower, fall on the floor weeping over having received one less marshmallow than was promised.
Ginny is becoming deeply aware of the monstrous injustice of the world. Example: yesterday she was in the Mt. Holly parade with her classmates and was looking forward to wearing her new Christmas tree dress. However, Adam made the executive decision to keep her in her school clothes since it was so cold (I was presenting at a conference). After sitting on the float for about two hours, Ginny finally passed the place where Adam and Dan were sitting. Instead of waving to her family, sources report that Ginny stood up and hollered "We COULD TOO wear DRESSES!" and literally gnashed her teeth at the crowd. Excellent.
But other things get her riled up too, and sometimes there's just not much we can say:
After a family visit -- "Why does Grandma pay more attention to Dan than me?"
After packing Christmas Child boxes -- "Why doesn't Santa Claus love the poor children?"
After being told that hurting other people is wrong -- "But what if you're in the army? Is God going to be mad at the army men who hurt other people?"
But sometimes, as with Ramona and the sheep suit, we require an act of grace to reconcile us with our destiny: a mascara-blackened sheep nose, a Cinderella sticker after a dentist's visit. Thank goodness for God's grace, for the fact that, as Faith Hill says, a baby changes everything. As an adult it's far too easy to be oblivious about all that is both right and deeply wrong with the world. It's easy to be focused on the tasks at hand, with coping with the daily grind, just getting by. A lot of people natter on about the beauty of the season, the wonder of Christmas, etc, etc. But give me the kid in the lousy sheep suit, the sensitive child who asks the tough questions, the one who is convinced that the second verse of "Jesus Loves Me" says that Jesus "diapered all the children of the world." Hers is the faith that I'm looking for this season.
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