Whether at home or at an activity, we always seem to have one or many extra children with us.

OURS, YOURS AND THEIRS

Will the Real Scaperlanda Children Please Stand Up?

    "Are these ALL yours?"
     Father did not intend to be funny, even as he stared at our 6-foot-2-inch friend Jill, who clearly towers above anyone in our family. But our new pastor was clearly befuddled by the gaggle of teenagers that Michael and I brought to church that Sunday.
     "Well, they are all either original Scaperlandas," I tried to explain, "or ones we claim as ours," smiling at the mixed group of teens. Then I proceeded to introduce each person by first and last name, hoping that would clarify details.
     Our vision of family has clearly expanded as our children have aged. Whether at home or at an activity, we always seem to have one or many extra children with us.
     Michael and I hope and pray and work at making our home a welcoming place. And we consciously make decisions to encourage our kids and their friends to make the "Scap home" the hang-out place. We try to keep soda handy and invite them to eat whatever food is available. If someone drops in, we ask them to join us for dinner and partake of whatever we're having. When I drive up and see cars lining both sides of our cul-de-sac, I make a mental note to remember to thank our neighbors - once again - for their patience and generosity. And when the question, "Can [so and so] spend the night?" is asked, unless there is a specific conflict, the answer will be, "Yes, of course."
     This means our house will not remain clean or orderly on a daily basis. I won't always like every person that comes over. I've had to rethink and abandon a sense of privacy and personal space. And sometimes I seriously ponder how to continue our family traditions with a crowd of 500.
     But I have learned to treat the others like my "real" children, to ask them to pick up, even to clean up. And if it's time for night prayer, Michael and I invite whoever is over to join us in the living room. When "our" kids are up late with their friends, I'm thankful to know that my daughters are often under our roof.
     Yet the unexpected surprise in this slice of my life as a mother has been the abundant graces that I have personally received from our "adopted" children. Like the myriad shells that I love to collect on the beach, I've gathered a bundle of blessed memories from my walk as the Scap Mom.
     Sometimes their love is small and meaningful. I treasure the e-mails and the letters addressed to "Mamma Scap." And I still smile when someone besides one of our "original" foursome volunteers over our dinner conversation to give one of our children a needed ride.

    Sometimes their love is grand and formidable. The day before my mom faced cancer surgery last year, I was startled early in the morning by a knock at the door from 17 -year-old Katie, on her way to work. Before I could say that everyone was still in bed, Katie began, "I wanted to give you a hug and to give you this," and she opened my hand, placing a small cross on it. "I am praying for you," she added, then she turned around and left.
     When our son left for college, I didn't anticipate how difficult that new experience would be on the whole family. We had to adjust not only to his absence, but also to the feel of being a family of "five" instead of "six," a fact we struggled to remember even when setting the table. Aware of this empty space in our home, Brian volunteered to be the girls' adopted brother. Whenever any one of us needed to see a "boy" in the house, he made himself available.
     When I heard that Shine, the Catholic work camp for teens, was in town and in need of help last summer, I asked our "expanded family" if they'd be willing to go as a group. Thirteen generous teens, only two of whom I gave birth to, joined Michael and me in cooking dinner for the volunteer workers. There we were, our interreligious, ecumenical family, gathered under the banner of the Scap home.
     Isn't God's grace amazing?