Over my more than twenty years of working with young children, first as a classroom teacher, then as a childcare provider, and finally as both a religious educator and a mom, I’ve presided over thousands of meals with dozens of kids: in homes and in restaurants, in waiting rooms and church social halls and the back seats of cars, on buses and beaches and picnic blankets. During roughly half those meals, some amount of food was consumed. During the other half . . . well. If you’ve ever shared more than one meal with a preschooler, you know that not all of them result in the kind of nourishment we adults might have in mind. As in the examples above, many of them ended in tears.
Situations like these can leave caregivers feeling frustrated, disappointed, and powerless. We know we are called to feed the children we love and we take this responsibility seriously, doing everything in our power to make sure they receive the nutrition they need to grow and thrive. For some of us, this is a particularly hard and complicated job. Food deserts and tight grocery budgets may restrict our ability to provide the food we would like to provide in the amounts we would wish. Medical or developmental concerns may make it more difficult for a child to absorb nourishment. And even if we don’t have economic or medical reasons to feel anxious about providing adequate nutrition, it’s likely we still do, and when the kids we love don’t eat the way we think they should, we struggle.
I’ve been there, and if you’re reading this, you probably have too. But over the years I’ve begun to wonder: what if the behavior that so frustrates us at meals could encourage us instead? What if the sometimes frustrating behaviors of the preschoolers we love could actually help us give them the kind of spiritual teaching that would strengthen their relationships with us, with their communities, and with themselves?
During the tending years, I believe kids seek to connect with us at meals through three hidden spiritual practices—curiosity, companionship, and replenishment—that help us grow into the supportive guides they crave. Because these requests to connect are commonly behavioral and not verbal, they are often difficult for caregivers to recognize and understand, even as we respond to them (and we do respond to them, even if we don’t realize it!).
The chapters in this section will introduce you to various aspects of each hidden practice: where it comes from, how the preschoolers you care for might ask you to engage with it, and the ways you are already doing the spiritual teaching they need.