People First

Heartwarmers of Love: Award-winning Stories of Love, Romance, Friends, and Family by Azriela Jaffe

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Folks, give a warm welcome to my dear friend from Nigeria, Steve Popoola, who teaches us a lesson...in teaching babies! Look for him below in Family Love Moment, then send him an e-mail at [email protected]. Thank you, Steve!

For a sneak preview of my romantic fiction-in-progress of "Wife Seeking Wife," check it out at www.geocities.com/jenniferioliver2001 under "Sneak Preview."
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PEOPLE FIRST

When I attended Open House at my son's school, I scanned the bulletin board outside his first-grade classroom. I spied Cody's handiwork in a colorful sea of papers tacked to the board.

My curious smile froze.

In one circle he was supposed to write or draw what he didn't like.

"MEN," he scrawled in capital letters.

Uh-oh, I thought as fear iced me. How could Cody not like men? He loved his daddy! Did some man do unspeakable things to my child?!

"Cody," I said casually. "Can you tell me about your work here?"

"Yeah," he replied, then carefully recited each word slowly. "I...don't...like...mean."

Such is the world of phonics, writing words the way they sound.

That exercise served to reinforce how our boys perceived the world, divided into two classes: good and bad.

It didn't matter to them what the person looked like. You were either good or you were bad. Our neighbor next door, Miss Doris...she was a good person, giving the boys treats when they deserved it. Now the bully on the bus who hit Cody in the stomach...

People with or without disabilities.

People with or without a steady income.

With or without a home.

With or without goodness.

People first.

But I doubted Cody understood my logic.

Until one warm Saturday morning.

Cody and I arrived at a pizza parlor where a birthday party was being held for his classmate, Kristi.

"Cody!" Kristi shouted, walking toward him in a cloud of pink ruffles, her thick, blonde hair trained into one long braid down her back.

She was radiant as she hugged him.

"Why, Kristi," I said, "you look beautiful!"

"Thank you," she responded, twirling around. "Let's go play some games, Cody!"

Cody, unfazed by being the only boy in the handful of attendees, bounced gleefully from one game to another, feeding tokens to hungry machines.

When several pizzas were delivered to the balloon-bedecked tables, Kristi made a point of asking Cody to sit next to her. When Cody asked for pink lemonade, she informed the waitress with a trace of authority in her voice, "I'll have what he's having."

When it came time for opening presents, she announced, "I want to open Cody's present first!"

He handed her a small package, a pink Ooglie toy that made funny and irreverent noises when one pulled its tail.

"It's for your book bag," Cody said shyly.

"Oh, I love it!" she gushed, hugging Cody. "Thank you!"

While everyone was eating cake, Kristi leaned over to me and said, "Mrs. Oliver, Cody is always so nice to me every single day at school. He's the only one who's never, ever mean to me."

I blinked back tears. Not just because a little girl was sweet enough to acknowledge Cody's sensitivity to his mother. But for knowing how cruel kids could be, especially to skinny-challenged girls like Kristi.

My heart ached from the sudden surge of pride that coursed through it.

All I could think of was, by golly, he got it.

Cody got it.

People first.

Jennifer Oliver
[email protected]
Copyright © 2001 by Jennifer Oliver. All rights reserved.

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About the author: Jennifer Oliver resides in the heart of Texas and has three fulltime jobs as a webmaster for the government, wife to awesome househubby, Stephen, and mother to four beautiful kidwarmers.

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QUOTES FROM LESSER KNOWN PEOPLE

Sometimes my wife puts our eight-month-old baby to bed without putting diapers on him especially when the temperature is high. Praise, our son, shares the same bed with my wife and I, although he has a cot we made for him (don't ask me why, just guess!).

Praise is indeed a joy to us, and he really lives up to his name because he loves music. When you sing to him, he cocks his head to one side as if he can hear every word. There are some television jingles he loves so much we have to make sure that we tune to that particular TV station when it is time for the jingle to be played.

Something happened a few weeks ago which, although funny, made me think about the fact that it is never too early for children to learn things from us. One morning, Praise woke up too early for his wake-up time. I sensed him wake up, but I pretended to sleep since he was at his mother's side of the bed. I thought if everyone appeared to be asleep, he would do one of two things. Either he would raise an alarm or he would go back to sleep. I was hoping he would do the latter since it had not been long since his mother fed him.

While I was hoping, I fell asleep. A few minutes later, I felt something warm moving on my back. I knew what it was without opening my eyes. I felt little hands rubbing my head as if patting me to sleep. I smiled thinking how an eight-month-old baby could think of doing something like that.

At that time I knew I could not sleep again, not while he was on my back. I remained on my face- down posture until a few minutes later when I felt something warm trickle down my back to my stomach, soaking my underwear.

"Oh, no!" I groaned, waking my wife.

I felt the weight off my back immediately as Praise rejoined his mother, who now returned him to his place which was completely dry. I looked at his face, and he smiled at me showing his two teeth. Imagine that!

If someone had told me this, I would have thought that it was story straight from a storybook, but it happened to me!

The lesson I learnt from this is that it is never too late to train our children the way they should go (Proverbs 22:6 ). They know from the time they are babies what being loved is. These babies see us when we show love for one another, they see parents when they fight, they see parents when they pray together. Praise already knew how uncomfortable he would be lying in a pool of urine, so he lovingly deposited it on his loving father!

Steve Popoola, age 36. I was born in London but currently reside in Lagos, Nigeria with my wife Maris and son, Praise. I work in a bank as a Systems administrator. I am in charge of the publications unit of my Church and was recently appointed Assistant Youth Director. I also love to sing and teach. I can be reached through my email address, [email protected], or my family web site at http://www.stpopoolas.f2s.com.
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FROM OUR FRIENDLY E-MAIL CARRIER:

In regards to "This is the Life!" --

Thanks, Jennifer, for letting me well-up through your marvelous family. You are truly blessed.
Take care, Joy

I really liked this Jennifer -- it struck a good balance between humor and heartstring pulling. Reminded me of the "Everything I need to know I learned in Kindergarten" kind of style.
- Beth

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LOVE,
JENNIFER I. OLIVER AND FAMILY
[email protected]
When you are born, you cry and everyone is happy. So live your life
in such a way that when you die, everyone cries and you are happy.

- Unknown
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This E-mail may be forwarded in its entirety, but first ask the writer for permission before forwarding. Thank you for doing the decent thing! Ü
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FEEDBACK: [email protected]
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