October 9: Ritalin, Madeleine L'Engle, "Mary, after the Baptism"

Well, my son punched a little girl on the playground yesterday, so he ended up sitting in the principal's office all day, doing his schoolwork.  This afternoon, he had an appointment with the psychiatrist who's been treating him for a couple of years.  The psychiatrist wants to put my six-year-old son on Ritalin.

That worries me.  Not because of any doubt in psychiatry or modern medicine.  I'm not one of those Tom Cruise types.  It's just that I love the person my son is.  He's funny, smart, energetic.  He makes me laugh.  I don't want to see that change.  However, I do want him to be able to control his impulses and focus more easily.

Basically, I want all good things to happen for my son.  That's what Madeleine L'Engle's poem for today is about:  the love of a parent for a child.  The hopes of a parent for a child.  The fears of a parent for a child.

 Saint Marty has more fears than hopes at the moment.

Mary, after the Baptism

by:  Madeleine L'Engle

Yes, of course.  On many days I doubted. 
My faith grew out of doubt.  The child was good
but other babies have been good.  He shouted
when he was hungry, like any child, for food.
One simply does not think of the Messiah
cutting teeth, eating, and eliminating.
He springs, full-grown, in the great Isaiah--
God, servant, king.  And I was waiting,
remembering in my heart the very things
that caused my doubt:  the angel's first appearing
to me and then to Joseph; shepherds, kings,
the flight to Egypt.  Remembering was fearing;
doubt helped.  I had to face it all as true
the day John baptized him.  Then he knew.

I'll take Ritalin for $200, Alex