Dialogue: Build a village to raise a child

By ROANNE PARKER

Many moons ago I loved to stay with my grandmother. Waking up early on Sunday mornings, my sister and I would snuggle under feather eiderdowns in twin beds and listen to Badjelly the Witch and Sparky and the Talking Train on the radio.

And after we had had our cornflakes (what a treat it was - just Weet-Bix at home), we would go to church; a spectacularly beautiful gothic-style church surrounded by a graveyard.

After church, while Gran chatted to her friends from the Country Women's Institute, we went hunting out the headstones marking the resting spots of the babies and children who had died 100 years earlier.

There was a lychgate that you could sit under and an overgrown tennis court where my mother had played with her friends from youth group long before I was born.

But the thing that I loved most was the beautiful carved stone font at the back of the church. It was taller than I was and had a big wooden lid that sat firmly in place until a baby was brought in with long white robes and gravely excited parents for the christening.

I knew it had magic holy water inside, and I wondered where that holy water came from. Was there a special holy water tap out the back somewhere?

I was christened in that font. Among my peers, being unchristened was the exception. I would guess it is now more exceptional to make the decision to have your child baptised, symptomatic perhaps of the lack of extended families and church-based rituals that we have.

I was at a christening recently and I had tears in my eyes. It felt like a very special day in the life of that wee baby, and for the parents and godparents, too.

What solemn promises those are, to stand in church beside your old varsity drinking buddy and pledge that you will help to guide his baby to God.

It's a bit of an issue really now that we Kiwis are largely a bunch of Buddhists, atheists, or non-practising Christians.

A lot of us are happy hypocrites, getting married before God and bringing our children to His house in the hope of saving their little souls. Any kind of religious belief is largely a matter of faith though, so I suppose we could be forgiven for thinking that if we hope it's the right thing to do, that's enough.

What do you say if you are asked to be a godparent? If you are not a practising Christian, is it okay to stand there and nod your head at the right moment? Is it like making a promise with your fingers crossed behind your back? Does it make the whole thing a bit of a farce?

I was talking to a cheering mum on the sideline at soccer one recent Saturday morning and she told me about the ceremony they had had for their three children the week before.

It was held at home with a celebrant and all of their friends and family in attendance. They wrote the whole thing themselves, and chose two mentors for each child; adults who were already a part of their lives but who now had a specific and more official role to play.

The mum and dad made their expectations of the mentors clear, and these included being prepared to make a contribution to the child's upbringing, and periodically provide the kind of one-on-one attention that is nearly impossible for parents to do in a busy family.

That might mean having the child to stay for a week in the school holidays, or sharing something you love to do occasionally.

Brilliant. Who wouldn't be willing to offer to support, encourage and positively influence a child in a way we feel comfortable? Love the footy? Well then, you're in charge of taking him to the footy sometimes. Are you an artist? Great, take her to the next exhibition that takes your fancy.

Now at last we are talking about a practical, realistic and achievable way to make a difference to a child's experiences and influences. Isn't that what we all want for our children?

I have a niggling fear that my own unchristened children are unprotected from a big dark something because of my decision, or indecision, about having them baptised. But on the other hand, I wouldn't know my own godparents if they knocked on my front door.

Children need as much positive input as they can get, and it's great to let them learn that there are all kinds of people in the world, not just mum and dad.

And if you believe that it takes a village to raise a child, you might have to roll up your sleeves and build your child her very own village.