#yet everyone praise it for doing the bear minimum in story telling

[theythemclockenjoyer]

please tell me they did not give the author with very racist and homophobic past who realied on stereotypes and whitewashing in her book another story about another culture she knows nothing about

[honeypiehotchner]

Trust -- part thirty-five

It’s been a moment, hello! My mood took one of worse turns it has in a while the past couple weeks, but I think I’m back on track now (go to therapy, kids).

Also! I move into college in three weeks, and I won’t have as much free time. My goal is to finish this story before I move, though, so this is your warning that the end is near. Love you guys xx.

(Listen I don’t really like this part and idk if it’s my brain still in the weird mood or if it genuinely does suck, so be gentle lol)

“Sherlock,” you call, tucking your legs underneath you on the sofa.

           “Hm.”

           “When was the last time you went out?”

           He gives his violin a strange look – he’s tuning it before he plays – but you know that look was meant for you if he wasn’t preoccupied. “What do you mean?”

           “A case,” you clarify for him. “When was the last time you and John went out on a case together?”

           “We just did a case last week.”

           “No, that wasn’t a case, that was a small outing and you solved it in five minutes,” you reply tiredly. “I mean an actual case.”

           “Oh,” he hums, lifting his violin to his chin. “I don’t know.”

           “I thought you didn’t like not knowing.”

           A glare is the next expression sent your way as he picks up his bow and begins to play. He’s been working on a waltz for John and Mary. He’s told them (promised, more like) he’ll play it for their first dance at the wedding, which, again you try not to think about the dreams you had. But it’s incredibly hard when life is appearing to imitate them in the smallest of ways.

           “I’m just saying,” you speak over his playing. “I think it’d be good if the two of you got out and did a case together.”

           The violin falls from his neck as he gives you a pointed stare. “What’s wrong?”

           “Nothing’s wrong,” you chuckle. “I just don’t want to be the reason you’re stuck in this flat for the rest of your life.”

           “You’re not,” he replies firmly, lifting his instrument once more. “If I wanted to leave, I would. My brother’s security won’t be reason to stop me.”

           “I know that,” you breathe. “Speaking of, if you were to go out, I’m sure Mycroft would send an extra guard. Or I could ask Mary to come over. Speaking of Mary, what time did they say they were coming over?”

           “Noon,” comes Sherlock’s short reply.

           It’s barely ten now. This is one of the rare mornings where you and Sherlock are actually awake in the morning.

           “Well,” you heave out a sigh, standing to your feet. “I’m going to get dressed. Try not to make the waltz minor. I can hear it drifting that way.”

           You’re not trying to annoy Sherlock necessarily, but you’d be lying if you said you aren’t trying to push his buttons a little more.

           He’s been cooped up in this flat with you for two weeks now. Yes, you’ve gone out occasionally, but after one instance of cameras swarming the two of you in a café, you’ve kept the outings to a bare minimum. The “case” last week was less hectic, you’re assuming because reporters didn’t want Lestrade arresting them, but it was short lived.

           You’ve both become somewhat of a celebrity couple since returning from the hospital. It became known that Sherlock and his girlfriend – that’s you, even though, again, you and Sherlock still haven’t discussed labels – investigated and brought down a religious cult right here in London.

           The case alone was intriguing enough for people to praise Sherlock, but throw in the fact that this seemingly emotionless human being has a romantic partner? Everyone is all over that now, and it hasn’t died down like John had hoped.

           Which is why Mycroft still has security stationed at the bottom of the stairs, and eyes all on Baker Street at all times. You’re – meaning you and Sherlock – are no longer allowed to take cabs. Mycroft has a driver – his name is Ed, he’s nice – for the both of you and that is how you are supposed to get around. You think the only reason Sherlock doesn’t protest is because he knows how much of a concern your safety is – especially to him.

           But still. You and Mary have been talking. Even John is a little antsy. The wedding planning is in the final stages, and the last thing really to tackle is seating and fitting for the bridesmaid dresses. Mary has her wedding dress, John has his tux, as does Sherlock, but the bridesmaids – you included as Maid of Honor – don’t. You’ve got the color, at least.

           The point is, you and Mary have seen that both of your boys need to go out and work a case together. Just to get them out. And to give you two some girl time, but that’s irrelevant. You need to get them out of the house again, like they used to do.

           And you’ve got a plan.

~~~

“Need to work on your half of the church, Mary. Looking a bit thin.”

           You roll your eyes at Sherlock’s statement as Mary answers him. “Ah, orphan’s lot. Friends, that’s all I have. Lots of friends.”

           You reach over and squeeze her hand gently, earning a small smile. Mary’s past has always been a sore subject, and one that isn’t brought up often – except by Sherlock, in moments like these.

           “We should have the organ music to begin at precisely 11:48—”

           “But the rehearsal’s not for another two weeks, just calm down.”

           “Calm? I am calm. I’m extremely calm.”

           “Sherlock, love,” you chime in, ignoring the way your brother’s eyebrows raise at your use of the word love. “I’ve never seen you more stressed. Just – take a deep breath.”

           “Let’s get back to the reception, come on,” Mary suggests, ushering him over.

           You nod your head, urging him to join her. You sit curled up in his chair with a book, planning to help Mary after Sherlock and John leave, but of course neither of them know they’re going to be leaving just yet.

           “John’s cousin, top table?”

           Sherlock scrunches his nose. “Hm. Hates you. Can’t even bear to think about you.”

           “Seriously?”

           “Second-class post. Cheap card. Bought at a petrol station. Look at the stamp. Three attempts at licking. She’s obviously unconsciously retaining saliva.”

           “Aw, let’s stick her by the bogs.”

           “Oh yes.”

           You watch at Mary discreetly looks over her should, clearing her throat before asking, “Who else hates me?”

           And of course, Sherlock being Sherlock, he hands her a list.

           “Oh great, thanks.”

           You snicker at Mary’s way of dealing with family troubles, not that John cares either way. He’s been scrolling through his phone the entire time.

           “‘Priceless painting nicked.’ Looks interesting.”

           “Table four?” Mary continues.

           “Done,” Sherlock replies quickly.

           John chuckles. “‘My husband is three people.’”

           “Table five?”

           “Major James Sholto. Who he?”

           “Oh, John’s old commanding officer. I don’t think he’s coming.”

           Your ears perk up at the mention of him. You’ve always known John was in the military, but he never talks about it all that much. And he’s especially never mentioned an old commanding officer before.

           “He’ll be there,” John speaks up, so he’s clearly listening.

           “Well, he needs to RSVP, then,” Mary counters.

           “He’ll be there,” John assures her once more, still gazing at his phone.

           Sherlock looks about as confused as you feel. He’s clearly curious about this and you’re almost certain you’ll find him Googling Major Sholto later.

           “‘My husband is three people.’ It’s interesting.”

           You give John a strange look.

           “Says he has three distinct patterns of moles on his skin.”

           “Identical triplets. One in half a million births. Solved it without leaving the flat,” Sherlock speaks quickly as he suddenly stands and floats (as you like to say) down to the floor. “Now, serviettes. Swan or Sydney Opera House?”

           “Where’d you learn to do that?” Mary’s excitement and surprise is clearly written all over her face as Sherlock proudly displays the napkins. You even crane your neck to see.

           “Many unexpected skills required in the field of criminal investigation—”

           “Fibbing, love,” you call out, shaking your head.

           He sighs. “I once broke an alibi by demonstrating the exact severity of…”

           “We’re not John, we can tell when you’re fibbing,” Mary interrupts.

           “Okay, I learnt it on YouTube.”

           You snicker. “That’s more like it.”

           “Opera House, please,” Mary chooses, satisfied that she got the truth. “Oh, hang on, I’m buzzing.”

           Your eyebrows raise slightly. That’s the first code phrase.

           “Oh, hi, Beth!”

           And there’s the other.

           You close your book, standing and following Mary into the kitchen. Sherlock is too busy folding serviettes to notice you’ve gone, and you smack John lightly on the shoulder as you pass.

           “Yeah, yeah, I don’t see why not,” Mary continues the act.

           You stand over by the kettle, actually putting it on because you would like some tea, which gives you a plausible excuse for being in here.

           “Actually, if that’s Beth, it’s probably for me, too. Hang on.”

           John walks into the kitchen a second later, giving both you and Mary a tired look.

           “He knows we don’t have a friend called Beth. He’s gonna figure out that it’s code.”

           “He’s YouTubing serviettes,” Mary hisses.

           “He’s thorough.”

           “He’s terrified!”

           “Of course he’s not.”

           “He is,” you mutter from the kettle, looking up to John. “He is.”

           “Right, you know when you’re scared of something, you start wishing it sooner just to get it all going? That’s what he’s doing.”

           “Why would he be scared that we’re getting married?”

           You leave the couple to continue bickering, part of you wanting a small private moment with Sherlock while they’re occupied.

           You walk over to Sherlock where he’s quickly folding, and you make him pause, your hand smoothing over his shoulder. He turns his head to look up at you, his free hand bringing your knuckles to his lips.

           “Would you fold me a swan?” You ask.

           “Of course,” comes his reply, and you didn’t exactly mean for him to fold it for you right then, but he does, and a few seconds later, he’s handing you a swan.

           “Thank you,” you chuckle. “I love it.” You carry it gingerly over to the mantle and place it next to where he’s got something stabbed onto the wood. “What is it now, love?” Upon closer inspection you see it’s a note. “Another one?” You ask.

           Sherlock barely nods and hums.

           You sigh. “And how long has this one been up here?”

           “Two days.”

           “Where did you get it?”

           “Homeless network.”

           “Someone in your homeless network handed you a note with ‘I O U’ written on it? Are you joking?”

           “No,” Sherlock replies. “But Mycroft has them now.”

           “So, your brother knew, too,” you mutter. “Lovely.”

           “Don’t be cross. It’s only out of—”

           “Sherlock Holmes,” you turn around to glare at him. “If you tell me you’re trying to protect me, I’m going to throw you out that window.”

           He smirks as he stands, ushering you to come over to him, which you do. He’s like a damn magnet, this man.

           “No need to throw me out the window,” he murmurs, tilting your head back to look in his eyes. “I only didn’t want you to worry.”

           “You realize to me it seems like you’re keeping things from me.”

           “I apologize.”

           “Hm,” You fight back a smile. “Not good enough.”

           He hears what you’re implying, so he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. “Better?”

           You nod. “Better. One more.”

           He grants your wish, pressing a kiss to your lips once again, pulling your body up against his in a way that would promise something more if John and Mary weren’t in the kitchen.

           But they are, so you pull away, grinning. “I forgive you.”

           “Seriously?”

           “No,” you shake your head. “But you are a good kisser.”

           He hums again, getting interrupted by Mary practically shoving John out of the kitchen. Your older brother stumbles into the room, giving you and Sherlock a weird – but not disgusted for the first time – look.

           “Uh, kettle’s just boiled.”

           You nod. “I’ll go help Mary with the tea.”

           Leaving Sherlock and John in the living area, you disappear into the kitchen to help Mary with tea. When you round the corner, she’s sitting at the table, sipping tea and looking through a newspaper.

           “They’re talking,” you whisper. “Fingers crossed.”

           After a few minutes, Mary taps you on the arm. Time to see if they ever decided on anything.

           You wrap your hands around the warm mug, raising your eyebrows expectantly as Sherlock and John fumble through an explanation on where they’re heading.

           “Why don’t you go with socks?” You ask.

           “You’ve gotta get the right ones,” Mary adds, earning a serious nod from both men. “It’ll take a while, right?”

           “Yeah, my coat…”

           “In there,” you nod. You flash Sherlock a smile that he returns. “Have fun.”

           “Text me if you need me.”

           “Mary is going to be here with me, Sherlock. Go out and have fun. And don’t come back for a while. We need some girl time.”

           “Okay. The guard is just downstairs, and Mycroft—”

           “I know!” You laugh. “Now get out of here.”

           Sherlock and John disappear down the stairs for what seems like the first time in absolute ages. You and Mary let out of a shared sigh of relief as the front door closes.

           “Now,” Mary begins, giving you a look. “Now that he’s gone, I have to ask, how are you doing?”

           “I’m fine,” you reply, sipping your tea as you sit down on the couch. “Why do you ask?”

           “Well, with all this marriage talk, I just wondered how that head of yours was dealing,” she moves to sit next to you. “Have you mentioned it to him?”

           “No, God no,” you laugh. “We haven’t even talked about whether or not we’re ‘dating,’ which sounds ridiculous. The papers say I’m his girlfriend, but he and I haven’t even talked about it.”

           “I think it’s safe to say he is your boyfriend.”

           “It sounds so primary school when you say it like that,” you grimace.

           “Well the two of you act like you’re in primary school because you haven’t talked about it!”

           “Okay,” you give her a look. “I don’t mind that we haven’t talked about it.”

           “You don’t want clarity?”

           “Maybe?” You shrug. “And maybe when I do, I’ll ask him, but right now, I’m happy with where we are. I’m content just being with him.”

           “Alright,” she pats my leg. “I can tell he makes you happy. And I think John is coming around.”

           “I think so, too,” you smile. “Or I hope he is, at least.”

           “No, I think he is,” Mary nods firmly. “I’ve talked with him about it and I think he sees how protective Sherlock is and he values that. John wants someone that’ll keep you safe. And Sherlock does.”

           “I feel safer than I ever have when I’m with him,” you admit quietly. “I felt safe with Tony, sure, but never like this.”

           “And that’s what I like to hear,” she smiles brightly. “Now, what’s for lunch?”

           You sigh. “I might be able to convince the guard to let us out.”

           She grins, a bit mischievously. “Let’s do it.”

[charlesking830-blog]

What is the preschooling secret of teachers?

You wrestle for ten minutes with your 3-year-old to get his jacket on, yet his preschool teacher has ten kids (including yours) dressed for the playground in less than three. What's her secret? Partly, of course, the advantage of not being a parent—kids really are more inclined to behave for outsiders.

But it's not only that. Teachers develop all sorts of tricks to help young kids learn, keep the classroom more efficient, and make their job more enjoyable. This is hardly surprising. Preschool teachers have year after year of experience with this challenging age group. Fortunately, they're more than willing to share the keys to their success with eager (and sometimes frustrated) parents:

multiplication learning toys  

Secret #1: Preschoolers don't have to dawdle . Why does your child seem to thwart your attempts to get you both out the door each morning but promptly turns on her heels when her teacher announces it's time to head back in from the playground? The explanation is simple enough, says Barbara Roth, director and teacher for more than 20 years at the Hanover Nursery School, in New Hampshire: "When we say something, they know we mean it." Roth says she routinely sees parents tell their child it's time to leave the playground but then stop and chat with another parent themselves, or indulge countless delays and requests for "just one more slide." "You've got to follow through," she says. "Otherwise, it becomes clear that your child doesn't really have to do what you say when you say it." This means giving a few gentle but firm warnings starting five minutes before it's time to leave (or come to the table, and so on), then announcing departure time definitively and matter-of-factly. You may have to just go and scoop her up the first few times (which you should do without hesitation) until she knows you're serious.

Kids also respond to cues they can see, hear, or count. If a child has trouble saying goodbye, "decide on a certain number of hugs and kisses," suggests Jenny Raffaelli, lead teacher at the Kinderberry Hill preschool, in Roseville, Minnesota. Soon she'll come to both expect and accept the routine.

counting toys for 3 year olds  

Roth plays the same few notes on the piano each day as a signal that free play is over. You might regularly use a bell or an egg timer or blink the lights in the room for the same effect, whether to get everyone to come to the dinner table or to mark that it's time to put away toys. Counting (as in "I'm going to count to thirty, and then I want to see a clean room") also inspires students to finish picking up in a hurry. "I often hear parents promise kids a treat to get them to do something," says Roth. "But that's rarely necessary—praise and accomplishment on their own mean just as much as material incentives."

Letting a child race against herself helps her hurry and also provides a great learning opportunity, says Joyce Drolette, director of the Big Sky Preschool, in Big Sky, Montana. She suggests timing getting ready for bed, school, and so forth with a stopwatch, then graphing or charting the results on the wall each day. In addition to teaching about graphs and charts, this method lets your child compare her speed on different days, says Drolette, and may even push her to beat her best time.

Secret #2: Kids can handle scissors and pens earlier than you think. Wanting to help their child develop writing and other fine motor skills, most parents simply hand him a pencil, kid-safe scissors, and paper. But a little practice may forestall frustration later. Raffaelli has her students learn basic skills and movements with such activities as picking up nuts and small blocks with kitchen tongs, stringing beads, rolling out play clay, and even cutting it with scissors. "With clay, it doesn't matter how kids cut," she says. "They can snip any which way and really build the fine muscles in their hands."

Once your child becomes adept, let him cut real paper—but in a way that guarantees his success. "For a preschooler, trying to cut out a picture is often too much—the scissors get caught up in the paper and he can't go anywhere," says Ann Curtis, director of the Infant and Preschool Center at Western Illinois University. "Thin little strips of paper work better: One snip and he feels a great sense of accomplishment." Set him up with a bunch of thin strips of different-colored paper and a container to cut them into, then let him cut strips to glue onto a paper plate for a wall hanging. Yarn also works well for scissor practice.

electronic alphabet learning toys  

As for writing, if your child shows an interest in using pencils and wants to move beyond scribbles, loops, and doodles but is frustrated that he can't make letters, he'll probably get a kick out of fooling around with stencils or tracing, says Raffaelli. Both let him practice holding the pencil and using it like a grown-up, and they won't prevent him from writing without them later on.

Also let him copy or trace your grocery or to-do list. "We play restaurant and store all the time, with the kids copying menus and lists right off the blackboard," says Drolette.

Secret #3: Structure and routine are critical for easy naps. It may seem amazing that your child manages to nap with a bunch of other kids in the room when you can't get a short snooze out of her in her own comfy bed, but preschools have an advantage over home, explains Raffaelli. "Your child is with a group of other children who are doing the same thing, so it's just easier to go along with the rest." Even if you can't import ten other 3-year-olds every day at naptime, there are some other tricks.

Mary Eltgroth, assistant director of New Horizon Child Care Center, in Savage, Minnesota, recommends that you first give her time to unwind before her nap—a half hour minimum—being careful not to suggest an activity that engrosses her so much that she won't want to interrupt it to sleep. Next, create a routine: the same time, the same music, the same bed, and the same expectation: quiet or sleep.

Cutting down on distractions can also help, says Drolette, who runs a fan (out of reach) to block out background noise and suggests that restless kids cover their eyes with a blanket so they're not tempted to keep looking around.

Secret #4: How you say things is as important as what you say. Having trouble getting your child's attention? Don't raise your voice, unless it's to sing. "Kids don't care how you sound," says Curtis. "If I'm reading and they aren't listening and I start singing the story, they quiet right down."

But you can't rely on song alone. Teachers try to alternate verbal tactics, using whispering or different voices or silently mouthing the words to get children to focus on them. They also employ visual cues, such as putting a hand up in the air or touching their finger to their nose and asking the children to do the same when they're quiet. Amanda Johnson, who used to teach at Radnor Nursery School, in Devon, Pennsylvania, has even been known to lean playfully over her charges and "blow the dust out of their ears."

And once you've got your child's undivided attention, keep your instructions clear, short, and direct, says Barbara Hill, director of administration at the Child and Family Study Center, the Lab School for California State University, Northridge. "Don't start by saying that if they get on the table it might break. Say, 'Get down'"—and explain later.

stem toys for 2 year olds  

Secret #5: Your child wants to get dressed himself.

Most young kids really want the feelings of independence, self-confidence, and achievement that dressing themselves brings. It's just that their clothes get in the way. To make it easier, "take into account where your child is developmentally when you buy his clothes," says Hill. For instance, a 3-year-old won't do as well in a pair of jeans with a zipper and a button as he will in elastic-waist pants.

Then develop specific ways to help him succeed. This might mean arranging his outfit the night before in the shape of a person on the floor, getting in the habit of putting on dress-ups and costumes when you aren't under time pressure or labeling clothes so that your child is able to distinguish the front from the back.

Raffaelli suggests marking one shoe with a star, dot or little sticker and teaching your child that that shoe always goes on the same foot. Another right/left shoe teaching method, from Curtis: Ask your child whether his shoes are mad at each other. If they're on the correct feet, the toes will be kissing (touching); if they're angry at each other (on the wrong feet), the toes will be turning away.

To help your child learn how to manipulate zippers and buttons, let him practice on someone else so he can see what he's doing. "It's important to do this with real clothes—doll clothes are much more difficult," says Roth. "We let our kids put their snowsuits on large teddy bears." And offering to let your child button or zip your coat after you have buttoned or zipped his gives him a feeling of accomplishment as well.

Secret #6: Taking turns and sharing don't have to be traumatic.

As an adult, you know you have to wait in line sometimes, and you're comfortable with it as long as no one cuts in front of you. Kids have the same expectation of fairness, say teachers. Most will share and take turns as long as the system is fair. "When two children are arguing over one object, we talk about how fighting won't fix the problem but will only make them cry and feel angry," says Drolette. "I tell the one who's most upset, 'Let me hear Billy and then I'll hear you.' He'll immediately calm down because he now knows that I'll listen to both sides." Then she gets the children to agree that in the future they'll ask for the toy nicely and relinquish it when they're finished with it. "Seven times out of ten, the child will hand over the toy right then and there."

If this approach doesn't work, you may have to formalize the sharing process. Give the child waiting for a toy (as well as the one already playing with it) an accurate measure of how long until it's her turn, rather than just saying wait until "later" or that she'll get her turn "in a little while," says Johnson. She's had success using egg timers and clocks to schedule use of a popular toy. Curtis has even used a sign-up sheet for some highly desirable items. "Even a three-year-old can understand that it will be her turn when her name comes up. It also serves as a graphic representation of the concept of waiting your turn, and it's good practice for kids to print their name on it," she says.

Secret #7: Play may be all the education your preschooler needs.

"I'd like to think kids go home from my class and say, 'I had great fun. I played all day,'" says Johnson, "because that's how children learn." So even if you decide to push some academics at home, the focus should be on fun rather than rote learning. It's easy to use letters in projects and games, such as Raffaelli's favorite literacy project: personalized math and counting books. "We take photographs or cut out pictures of everything that begins with a certain letter—or look for groups of one, two or three objects and so on—and make them into books."

And remember, one of the reasons your child can let loose and enjoy himself in the first place is that he has his own secret weapon: a foundation of unconditional love waiting for him at home.

[daddycoldhands]

Little Christmases #3: Necessary Sacrifice

Recently, my kids’ Sunday school teacher confided in me that that she’d been a little horrified by the day’s lesson. The class materials, bought in a package by the church, included a terrifying picture of Abraham about to sacrifice his only son Isaac. It’s a horrifying story, to be sure, but the illustrators got a little excited about drawing the cruel, curved knife in Abraham’s upraised hand, the dawning terror in his child’s eyes.

To be fair to these artists, though, and the good folk at our church who bought them, there’s no good way to make an illustration for this story. There’s nothing about child sacrifice—ordered by God or not—that can be drawn in a way that won’t give nightmares to Sunday school students.

The story can’t be swept under a rug, though, like some of the other dark and bloody tales of the Old Testament. Three major world religions trace their roots back to Abraham, and it’s in this moment, the moment when he demonstrates his willingness to sacrifice his child, that he shows the faith that will one day lead to God’s chosen people, their nation of Israel, and the man whose death would redeem God’s creation. That’s right; Abraham and his son Isaac are as much a part of the Christmas story as the angels who announced Christ’s birth to a band of bewildered shepherds.

So where does this particular Christmas story begin? Like all stories of redemption, it begins with God putting things in motion long before his people deserve them. Abraham (or Abram, as he’s known at this point of the story) is briefly mentioned in a genealogy in one chapter of the book of Genesis, and the next time he appears God makes extravagant promises to him:

“I will make you into a great nation,

   and I will bless you;

I will make your name great,

   and you will be a blessing.

I will bless those who bless you,

   and whoever curses you I will curse;

and all peoples on earth

   will be blessed through you.”

It’s fair to wonder what Abraham had done up to this point to warrant God’s blessings here. I’m going to go out on a limb say that Abraham had done absolutely nothing to deserve this. God’s fond of making outlandish promises to undeserving people. Think of Peter, a rash, uneducated fisherman with little more to offer God than a propensity for sticking his foot in his mouth. Jesus promised, long before Peter had any idea what it would mean, that upon him God would build his church.

Nations are made out of land and people, so it makes sense that God’s first direction to Abraham was to tell him to get up and move. God promised him the land of Canaan, and directed Abraham to uproot his entire extended family (quite a large group) and get moving.

Abraham probably assumed that the nation-building would start happening a lot sooner than it actually did. As it turned out, he ended up just passing through the promised land rather than settling there. When he arrived in his new nation, not only did he find that it was already occupied, but it was also in the middle of a famine. Abraham had to be confused and disappointed; his promised “nation” was a wasteland that couldn’t even feed his current nomadic family, let alone the nation that God had promised him.

So Abraham moved on to Egypt, but continued to find that God’s grand-sounding promises created more problems than they solved. Nothing was materializing yet. Part of his anxiety was created by his beautiful wife, Sarah. Convinced that the Egyptians would kill him so that they could claim Sarah for themselves, he lied to everyone and called Sarah his sister. The Egyptian pharaoh accordingly brought her into his house, but when his entire household suddenly became sick, figured out that there was something wrong with the arrangement.

After getting the pharaoh and his family ill by lying to them, Abraham rightly figured that it was time to get on the road again, and he ended up back in Canaan. Even back in his newly famine-less nation, though, things still weren’t going well for Abraham. The first step to being the father of many nations is being a father, and his beautiful bride hadn’t given him any children yet.

God kept making his extravagant promises to Abraham this entire time, but eventually Abraham decided to take matters into his own hands. Sarah, at this point, was well past her child-bearing age, so he let Sarah convince him into making a baby with one of their slaves instead. (Side note: this is not what Christians call traditional marriage.) God, realizing that Abraham had misunderstood his promises, showed up and reminded Abraham that his children would become a great nation, this time more specifically announcing that Sarah, not the handmaid, would be the mother of his children.

At this point, Abraham fell over and started laughing at God. Gotta love the honesty and of Abraham’s response here. Everyone else in the Bible who hears God’s words is paralyzed by fear and terror. Abraham laughed. He laughed because Sarah was not just too old to have a baby, she was so old that the idea was hilarious. Sarah laughed, too, when she heard God’s promise. But not long after, God got the last laugh by allowing Sarah to get pregnant and give birth.

It’s at this point that the story gets dark. Abraham got to enjoy being a father for only a few short years before God gave him the most terrifying instruction in the Bible: “Take your son, your only son, whom you love—Isaac—and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on a mountain I will show you.” Notice how specific God is here. Abraham wasn’t allowed to wiggle out of this by sacrificing the child he fathered with his slave; God wanted Isaac, the son Abraham loved, to be the one sacrificed.

I don’t know how much I can dwell on what happens next. Scripture calls it a “test,” but it’s hard to understand what God was testing. Abraham traveled three days to the place God directed, each step of the way taking him closer to killing his child. Scripture doesn’t indicate how old Isaac was at this point, but he was old enough to ask his father where the animal was for the sacrifice—he still didn’t know that the sacrifice would be him. He was small enough yet, though, that his elderly father was able to overpower him and tie him to an altar.

God’s angel intervened before Abraham could finish his awful task, though, and everyone sighs in relief. Abraham was allowed to use a sheep in Isaac’s place, and the boy got to live. Abraham learned that this whole affair was a test, and God reasserted his promises to make a nation of his children, and that the whole world would be blessed through him.

Our sigh of relief, unfortunately, is only temporary. As charming and sweet as the Christmas story is, there’s a sadness and sorrow underneath all of it. Jesus was born to be the sacrifice that Isaac couldn’t be. The redemption of God’s creation still had to be paid for by the sacrifice of a child, but God knew that Abraham’s child couldn’t fill that role. It had to be his own child.

If there’s a text in the Bible that’s a stumbling block for people, it’s this one. If you’re reading this and thinking to yourself that there’s no way that you could worship a God who tests his followers the way he tested Abraham, I can’t blame you. As far as I know, there are no explanations of this almost-child-sacrifice that could possibly alleviate the fear and trembling that the story inspires. Compounding our difficulty with this text is the praise that the Bible heaps on Abraham for the faith in God that he shows in the story. Whatever else might be true about the kind of faith of that pleases God, it’s clear that he was pleased with the faith Abraham showed through his willingness to do the unimaginable.

I will argue, though, that this text is particularly tough for modern readers because we don’t typically understand sacrifice. For ancient Israelites, sacrifice was a regular part of their lives. We’re so used to paying for things with money that we often don’t understand what it means to pay for something. Everything, in the end, is paid for with life. Money is just a stand-in for life, for time, an approximation of how much our time is worth. When someone buys a house, they pay for it not with money, but with the time necessary to earn that money. A value meal at McDonald’s isn’t worth a few bucks; it’s worth one hour of life working at a minimum wage job.

Sacrifice, like other kinds of payment, involves paying with some measure of life, but is different in what we purchase with that life. Sacrifice is not just some kind of weird religious payment, but life paying for life. Think about an immigrant mother, devoting her life to saving up a college fund for her children. She sacrifices her life to create life for her children. Similarly, but on a divine scale, when God eventually does allow his son to be sacrificed on the cross, it’s his life that pays for our life.

The life that God wants to give us, like all life, has to be paid for. In his mercy and his love, God was unwilling to let anyone else, not Isaac and not you, be the sacrifice. He paid it himself. As terrifying as the story of Abraham is, it’s also the story of God’s love, and not just any kind of love, but the greatest. As Jesus gently reminds us, there is no greater love than that shown by a man who lays down his life for his friends.

We are, improbably and inexplicably, God’s friends. And he laid down his life for us, that we might live.