A brief post script to yesterday's post... I had a comment on my blog from yesterday (which I published) that said: "Why don't you just give yourself a break? I think all grieving sucks. If your kids and dog are fed, then sit in the dark in your want." (I'm guessing she meant to write "if you want") This deserves a little response.
I write the struggle because even though I am frustrated, self-deprecating, self-defeated, and dulled... I *know* that this is where I am and that the only way out is through- so I have to go ahead and fight through it. This is not a cliche- it's true and it is hard. One of the things I have learned through the rough spots is that the struggle is necessary. If I don't fight and struggle, I lose. So- what I expressed in the blog was my way of fighting through it- voicing it gave me power and the depression ridiculousness. I know I need to grieve, I know I need grace. But my grace comes by the fist and yell here. If I stop moving and sit in the dark- I lose. The kids and dog being fed is not enough. Life does not give me space to be depressed- so when I experience it- it hurts and inconveniences. When I experience it, my kids do not have some innate ability to stop being 3 years old and 8 months old. They whine, spike fevers, want to play and cut in new teeth. This is the hardest part. But it is also the struggle that keeps me going- keeps me moving through to the other side. I cannot sit in the dark. I also don't really want to sit in the dark. I want to live my life. SO I struggle. I grow. It hurts. And like I fool- I do it in public at the smallest hope that even in my darkness- I give light to someone going through a similar thing. It feels embarrassing, but I refuse to hide it and go sit in the dark. I won't give in. This is not about grieving- this is about the darker shadow of depression that tries to piggyback on my grief. I'm shining a big fat spotlight on this thing- and I'm going to make it through.
The struggle is necessary. I don't want to sit in the dark.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
My way of grieving sucks- how about yours?
Guess what- I still have a blog in editing about my Grandmother and memories. I started it- felt good about it- then I was interrupted and now I don't feel like remembering. I feel like crap. Apparently when I grieve, I get depressed. I'm not naming it to claim it- I'm naming it to shit on it. Because it needs to go AWAY. I don't think it's a healthy normal way to grieve. Not this brand. There's a difference between feeling sad and feeling numbly a nonentity.
In an effort to give a vacuum of existence a space and handles... I'm going to write honestly about how I am doing. What I am doing. Here's my caveat- I don't write this to get apologies, affirmation, or anything like that. If you feel so led- fine- but I'm writing it so that by some odd chance someone out there who has the same useless method of grieving won't feel completely alone. It's about to get real here folks.
I'm feeling escapist. Visions of Florida lure my fantasies. I want to lay out in the sun, eat berries and chocolate, forget about the children and sleep for 10 hours straight every night. Oh holy Lord, yes. I want to skip winter. And rain- if it's going to rain- give me a damn thunderclap.
I'm annoyed, frustrated, and angry. At myself. I know that everyone grieves differently, everyone lives differently. I'm tired of my wrongs being the worse kind and my rights being the most painful. When I grieve, I seem to slip into the lethargic brand of depression. I stop cooking, cleaning, producing anything. I start eating and whining. My house, which was already hanging by a thread toward disaster's abyss- has fallen deep deep inside. I have no idea when I last cleaned anything in any of my bathrooms. Seriously. I haltingly and with great delay do dishes, laundry and feed my children. Often this involves dialing a delivery number. My eating habits, which were surprisingly good- are now surprisingly awful. I was back to my pre-pregnancy weight. Now I look 3 months pregnant.
I feel fat at all family functions. I know I am not overweight- but it is rough being the biggest girl in your family. Don't forget your petite sister-in-law. Even she doesn't have the decency to be normal for me. This is vain and honest. I want to be the hot one for once. Nope. I'm awkward, pale as a ghost and bumpy on the sides in a family of either athletes or "oh i just couldn't eat I was so stressed." What bullshit. I eat a bag of chips and salsa when I'm bored. You don't want to see stressed.
I am tired of having all of my negative effects be so damn negative. Why didn't I get the "clean to get things off your mind" gene? Or how about "lose your appetite" during a brief period? Even my clock is off. This has been all my life that it is off. I get my energy soar at 11 at night. I feel like dead weight between 7am-4pm. Rare is the day I jump out of bed with the sun in my eyes and head. Especially now. Besides it doesn't shine here anyways. Grey skies. Daily.
My most recent personal triumphs? They came through huge sacrifice and painful learning. I'm maturing- and I feel it like stabbing growth pains. My success comes in the form of becoming less important. It's appropriate- but I'd like to learn a lesson in accomplishment, talent, something uppy. Why dos my personal growth have to come in the form of humility? Sometimes being the "bigger man" really just makes me feel silenced and small. But to grow is to learn that some things really are not worth arguing and it is not important that you are right, but rather that you are still able to function in the relationship. Woo-freaking-hoo for being mature. It hurts- which is part of the maturity part- enduring it. It exhausts me.
Every accomplishment feels like climbing Mount Everest and every defeat feels like taking one wrong step and falling off a cliff.
There must be people out there like me. When things get tough- their very own soul rebels against the will to thrive. They retreat. They shut down. They do only what is necessary to do life. They get spurts of joy that keeps them moving toward the day when the stupor of whatever it is that has possessed their life wears off. They feel defenseless, defeated, tired. I'm sorry- but I do not want to have my soul respond this way. It is pissing me off.
People say- have grace- be gentle with yourself- give yourself time. It becomes frustrating and self-destructive when it feels like your "natural process" is about as difficult to recover from as the thing that you are processing. Surely there are healthy and unhealthy ways to grieve? When do I get to wake up from this coma? I promised myself that I would not do it this way when Grandmother died. I went through this with Memaush and while I still miss her every day- I did not need to grieve in depression to process and honor her death and life. But my soul didn't get the memo "no more destructive and time-warping depression." It's like my soul craves the dark cold corner- retreating there with the first excuse. I AM SICK OF IT.
Let's be honest- If I lost a child to some horrible disease- you wouldn't find me rising up and forming some fundraising foundation as a coping mechanism. I would be living in the in-law quarters at my parents' house, staring at the sky with a blank look on my face.
I'm tired of having everything thing about me not having a flip side. Grief does not give me sadness and memories- it gives me numbness. Turmoil does not give me triumph- it gives me strength to be trampled.
Aagh! I do not want my eyes to adjust to the darkness! I do not want to accept the lethargy! Why do I have to work so hard to find light and optimism? When I find that place- it is not a natural gift or ability. It is a fleeting vision that I have to focus and yet open-handedly grasp. If I try too hard, it falls. If I don't try- it never comes.
In the house I have an overwhelming urge to throw things away "Hoarders" style. And yet candy wrappers and junk mail lay on the table for days. Junk mail people are evil. Bruno brings in 625 lbs of dirt daily- and with the grey sky and rain- let's upgrade it to mud. He also now pees in the house occasionally, which we have finally ruled as a behavioral issue. I want to give the dog away. I want to get a job so I don't have to feel bad about not playing with the kids all the time. I can't make decisions and stick to them. I crave my family- putting them up on thrones they are sure to fall from.
I am Sarah, grieving via depression, and I am sick of myself for it.
My way of grieving sucks. How about you?
(fyi- i am not suicidal, my children are fed and my dog is taken care of. yadda yadda, etc- this is just me doing grief straight up lazy zoned-out style and being honest about it.)
In an effort to give a vacuum of existence a space and handles... I'm going to write honestly about how I am doing. What I am doing. Here's my caveat- I don't write this to get apologies, affirmation, or anything like that. If you feel so led- fine- but I'm writing it so that by some odd chance someone out there who has the same useless method of grieving won't feel completely alone. It's about to get real here folks.
I'm feeling escapist. Visions of Florida lure my fantasies. I want to lay out in the sun, eat berries and chocolate, forget about the children and sleep for 10 hours straight every night. Oh holy Lord, yes. I want to skip winter. And rain- if it's going to rain- give me a damn thunderclap.
I'm annoyed, frustrated, and angry. At myself. I know that everyone grieves differently, everyone lives differently. I'm tired of my wrongs being the worse kind and my rights being the most painful. When I grieve, I seem to slip into the lethargic brand of depression. I stop cooking, cleaning, producing anything. I start eating and whining. My house, which was already hanging by a thread toward disaster's abyss- has fallen deep deep inside. I have no idea when I last cleaned anything in any of my bathrooms. Seriously. I haltingly and with great delay do dishes, laundry and feed my children. Often this involves dialing a delivery number. My eating habits, which were surprisingly good- are now surprisingly awful. I was back to my pre-pregnancy weight. Now I look 3 months pregnant.
I feel fat at all family functions. I know I am not overweight- but it is rough being the biggest girl in your family. Don't forget your petite sister-in-law. Even she doesn't have the decency to be normal for me. This is vain and honest. I want to be the hot one for once. Nope. I'm awkward, pale as a ghost and bumpy on the sides in a family of either athletes or "oh i just couldn't eat I was so stressed." What bullshit. I eat a bag of chips and salsa when I'm bored. You don't want to see stressed.
I am tired of having all of my negative effects be so damn negative. Why didn't I get the "clean to get things off your mind" gene? Or how about "lose your appetite" during a brief period? Even my clock is off. This has been all my life that it is off. I get my energy soar at 11 at night. I feel like dead weight between 7am-4pm. Rare is the day I jump out of bed with the sun in my eyes and head. Especially now. Besides it doesn't shine here anyways. Grey skies. Daily.
My most recent personal triumphs? They came through huge sacrifice and painful learning. I'm maturing- and I feel it like stabbing growth pains. My success comes in the form of becoming less important. It's appropriate- but I'd like to learn a lesson in accomplishment, talent, something uppy. Why dos my personal growth have to come in the form of humility? Sometimes being the "bigger man" really just makes me feel silenced and small. But to grow is to learn that some things really are not worth arguing and it is not important that you are right, but rather that you are still able to function in the relationship. Woo-freaking-hoo for being mature. It hurts- which is part of the maturity part- enduring it. It exhausts me.
Every accomplishment feels like climbing Mount Everest and every defeat feels like taking one wrong step and falling off a cliff.
There must be people out there like me. When things get tough- their very own soul rebels against the will to thrive. They retreat. They shut down. They do only what is necessary to do life. They get spurts of joy that keeps them moving toward the day when the stupor of whatever it is that has possessed their life wears off. They feel defenseless, defeated, tired. I'm sorry- but I do not want to have my soul respond this way. It is pissing me off.
People say- have grace- be gentle with yourself- give yourself time. It becomes frustrating and self-destructive when it feels like your "natural process" is about as difficult to recover from as the thing that you are processing. Surely there are healthy and unhealthy ways to grieve? When do I get to wake up from this coma? I promised myself that I would not do it this way when Grandmother died. I went through this with Memaush and while I still miss her every day- I did not need to grieve in depression to process and honor her death and life. But my soul didn't get the memo "no more destructive and time-warping depression." It's like my soul craves the dark cold corner- retreating there with the first excuse. I AM SICK OF IT.
Let's be honest- If I lost a child to some horrible disease- you wouldn't find me rising up and forming some fundraising foundation as a coping mechanism. I would be living in the in-law quarters at my parents' house, staring at the sky with a blank look on my face.
I'm tired of having everything thing about me not having a flip side. Grief does not give me sadness and memories- it gives me numbness. Turmoil does not give me triumph- it gives me strength to be trampled.
Aagh! I do not want my eyes to adjust to the darkness! I do not want to accept the lethargy! Why do I have to work so hard to find light and optimism? When I find that place- it is not a natural gift or ability. It is a fleeting vision that I have to focus and yet open-handedly grasp. If I try too hard, it falls. If I don't try- it never comes.
In the house I have an overwhelming urge to throw things away "Hoarders" style. And yet candy wrappers and junk mail lay on the table for days. Junk mail people are evil. Bruno brings in 625 lbs of dirt daily- and with the grey sky and rain- let's upgrade it to mud. He also now pees in the house occasionally, which we have finally ruled as a behavioral issue. I want to give the dog away. I want to get a job so I don't have to feel bad about not playing with the kids all the time. I can't make decisions and stick to them. I crave my family- putting them up on thrones they are sure to fall from.
I am Sarah, grieving via depression, and I am sick of myself for it.
My way of grieving sucks. How about you?
(fyi- i am not suicidal, my children are fed and my dog is taken care of. yadda yadda, etc- this is just me doing grief straight up lazy zoned-out style and being honest about it.)
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Numbness
I am so unoriginal. A week after my Grandmother's death and I feel: numb. I am struggling to find the space to grieve... something inside of me is blocking the channels- and I mean brick wall block. I have sort of been dazed these last several days. I finally got some actual tasks accomplished a couple days ago- which wore me out until today I am doing laundry again. I have yet to have made dinner. I think that's my signal to myself- when I have all the ingredients and a willing helper- but still don't make dinner. I suck at grieving. Just cry, dammit! It's the numbness that is allowing myself to hover over myself in this weird "look how stupid you are" way.
I am currently enjoying a hot chocolate with bailey's in it at oh say- 3pm. It's 5 o'clock....somewhere? The sky is the perfect depressing color of grey. It's almost laughable how predictable all of this is. Mom called today to let me know that I will be receiving Grandmother's ashes in the mail towards the end of this week, maybe early next week. Really?! It's macabre! My Grandmother will be delivered to me in the mail. In a box. And I have no emotion. I think part of my soul is SO afraid of getting all gross and depressed that it is trying to protect me from the grief. Stupid soul- if I don't feel it- it will come out some other way! Release! Drop it! Let go!
Part of my extended denial stage is the result of a strange sort of isolation and limbo-land. I am no less than 12 hours driving from any one member of my family. Sure- at least we're on the same coast, yadda yadda. Guess what? It sucks for me, so it sucks. We're in limbo because Grandmother will be buried in Arlington cemetery - the national one. Did you know that there is a wait list for burial? It will be no less than a month, maybe up to 2-3 months wait. We don't even know that for sure because the cemetery sent my Dad an *EMAIL* saying: um- we have no freakin idea when your turn will be... but we'll contact you...eventually. So- no service in sight. No plans to instruct my soul on proper grieving time. My family wishes to do the whole thing at once since traveling twice is not easy or cheap and people want to be at both the memorial service and burial. I get it- but come March, if I don't do something now- it's going to be an emotional whiplash.
So I've decided to have my own memorial service. I need to knock the wall over somehow. When Grandmother comes in the mail- I'll talk to her and come up with a plan. Then I'll play some songs, say a prayer, write a note- I don't know- SOMETHING. Because numbness is not how we humans were made to be. I'm fighting it. I'm sure sometime next week I'll be a blubbery mess and be so angry at myself for wanting it. But it sure beats this crap. I'm done with grey skies and pizza. I want homemade vegan meals, sunshine or a thunderstorm- hell- give me a fat snowstorm. (bring it) I want crying and no mascara wearing days. I want to heal. And I don't want to wait until Arlington National Cemetery calls to start my journey. So shove it- understaffed important cemetery.
So there. Maybe I'm angry now. No. Not really. Still numb- but I feel it rising.
I am currently enjoying a hot chocolate with bailey's in it at oh say- 3pm. It's 5 o'clock....somewhere? The sky is the perfect depressing color of grey. It's almost laughable how predictable all of this is. Mom called today to let me know that I will be receiving Grandmother's ashes in the mail towards the end of this week, maybe early next week. Really?! It's macabre! My Grandmother will be delivered to me in the mail. In a box. And I have no emotion. I think part of my soul is SO afraid of getting all gross and depressed that it is trying to protect me from the grief. Stupid soul- if I don't feel it- it will come out some other way! Release! Drop it! Let go!
Part of my extended denial stage is the result of a strange sort of isolation and limbo-land. I am no less than 12 hours driving from any one member of my family. Sure- at least we're on the same coast, yadda yadda. Guess what? It sucks for me, so it sucks. We're in limbo because Grandmother will be buried in Arlington cemetery - the national one. Did you know that there is a wait list for burial? It will be no less than a month, maybe up to 2-3 months wait. We don't even know that for sure because the cemetery sent my Dad an *EMAIL* saying: um- we have no freakin idea when your turn will be... but we'll contact you...eventually. So- no service in sight. No plans to instruct my soul on proper grieving time. My family wishes to do the whole thing at once since traveling twice is not easy or cheap and people want to be at both the memorial service and burial. I get it- but come March, if I don't do something now- it's going to be an emotional whiplash.
So I've decided to have my own memorial service. I need to knock the wall over somehow. When Grandmother comes in the mail- I'll talk to her and come up with a plan. Then I'll play some songs, say a prayer, write a note- I don't know- SOMETHING. Because numbness is not how we humans were made to be. I'm fighting it. I'm sure sometime next week I'll be a blubbery mess and be so angry at myself for wanting it. But it sure beats this crap. I'm done with grey skies and pizza. I want homemade vegan meals, sunshine or a thunderstorm- hell- give me a fat snowstorm. (bring it) I want crying and no mascara wearing days. I want to heal. And I don't want to wait until Arlington National Cemetery calls to start my journey. So shove it- understaffed important cemetery.
So there. Maybe I'm angry now. No. Not really. Still numb- but I feel it rising.
Friday, December 9, 2011
Grandmother- denial stage
My Grandmother died on December 7th, 2011 at 7:15am. My Mom called me at 7:19am to tell me.
As I sit to write this (writing as an act of grief), I am pretty sure that I still haven't quite grasped the concept that my Grandmother is gone. Life goes on so quickly, you hardly have time to even think the words "gone" and "died." All you get is "dinner" and "funeral" and "sorry" and "Christmas shopping." The last few days I have been lethargic, not having the will or the energy to do much of anything productive. I don't think it is another grieved depression like I experienced with Memaush, but instead I think my soul doesn't know how else to slow down other than to turn off. It doesn't work of course. Turning off means the thoughts turn to "oh crap, I didn't make dinner." I'm jealous of my sister, my parents are with her for the weekend to celebrate her daughter's 1st birthday. They will be sharing stories, offering hugs, being together in a moment of grief and celebration. I feel isolated up here, with no one who shares my memories. The phone is a gift, but no substitute for the dinner table.
Grandmother was my last living grandparent- maybe that is part of the reason why I am so slow on the uptake here- it's the end of a significant part of my life and who I am. Her death was neither a surprise nor an expectation. She got sick, and any time an 89 year old gets sick- there really is no telling which way it will go. She slowly breathed her last while holding the hand of my mother- the daughter she never had (she always said this about my Mom as her daughter-in-law).
It was time. She was ready. I still need space to let it fill my mind, my memories, my heart, my soul. I still need the space to find the period rather than the leaving it at a ...
I'll write more when I'm ready.
As I sit to write this (writing as an act of grief), I am pretty sure that I still haven't quite grasped the concept that my Grandmother is gone. Life goes on so quickly, you hardly have time to even think the words "gone" and "died." All you get is "dinner" and "funeral" and "sorry" and "Christmas shopping." The last few days I have been lethargic, not having the will or the energy to do much of anything productive. I don't think it is another grieved depression like I experienced with Memaush, but instead I think my soul doesn't know how else to slow down other than to turn off. It doesn't work of course. Turning off means the thoughts turn to "oh crap, I didn't make dinner." I'm jealous of my sister, my parents are with her for the weekend to celebrate her daughter's 1st birthday. They will be sharing stories, offering hugs, being together in a moment of grief and celebration. I feel isolated up here, with no one who shares my memories. The phone is a gift, but no substitute for the dinner table.
Grandmother was my last living grandparent- maybe that is part of the reason why I am so slow on the uptake here- it's the end of a significant part of my life and who I am. Her death was neither a surprise nor an expectation. She got sick, and any time an 89 year old gets sick- there really is no telling which way it will go. She slowly breathed her last while holding the hand of my mother- the daughter she never had (she always said this about my Mom as her daughter-in-law).
It was time. She was ready. I still need space to let it fill my mind, my memories, my heart, my soul. I still need the space to find the period rather than the leaving it at a ...
I'll write more when I'm ready.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Hearing Aids and Healthcare vs Health Insurance
I am about to venture into a topic I know everything and nothing about. I have worn hearing aids since I was diagnosed with congenital hearing loss around 18 months of age. I have had access to varying qualities of health care my entire life. I have been a dependent on my Father's military medical benefits, his civilian benefits, and currently my husband's medical benefits through the United Methodist Church. I have never been uninsured. I'm very blessed.
I just dropped $6,095.00 on new hearing aids. They are top of the line, digital hearing aids that will last between 4-7 years. I'm hoping to stretch them to 8 years. I am not a candidate for a cochlear implant. I do not function on "cheap" hearing aids (that's another post altogether!). Hearing aids are typically not covered under most insurance company policies. Mine is one of the most. I looked online for reasons why insurance companies exclude hearing aids from their coverage. I found this article: http://califmedicineman.blogspot.com/2007/12/why-insurance-companies-dont-pay-for.html (forgive me- I'm not up to date on creating links). This article is written by a doctor in California and is not completely researched, but not completely bogus either. The summary of this doctor's point (I believe) is that insurance companies are intended to insure against catastrophic events (ie- homeowners insurance pays for when the house burns down). SO health insurance is intended to pay for when you surprisingly have to have surgery. In this theme, the happenstance of a heart attack is insured, but the certainty that a hearing impaired person needs hearing aids cannot be "insured" because that person will definitely, always need hearing aids- so it isn't a "what-if," catastrophic possibility. I can see on paper why this makes sense. Why would you pay a company to cover all your health needs if your health needs are 100% predictable? You cut out the middle man and pay for it yourself. The company has no profit capacity if they cover the predictable.
It hit me as I read some of the comments on the blog entry.... regardless of the logic of money- people need hearing aids and only the financially stronger folks can afford it. I have yet to pay for my own hearing aids with my own money. The last set were paid for with help from my parents and my Grandmother. This time I guess you could say I paid for this set, except it was through the yearly inheritance check from my Grandmother- hardly my own bootstraps. We do have savings- but they would have been completely depleted- 4 years of savings would be whittled down to next to nothing. In a year when it is likely that we will be moved, and possible that we will need to purchase a home- it would be bad not to have savings.
So I think the question: "Why don't health insurance companies cover hearing aids?" -is really the wrong question. The question is rather, why do we have a system of health insurance that hardly substitutes for a lack of a system of health CARE? Think about it. If the catastrophic events were the only things that broke the bank- health insurance could be fairly simple. Hospital visits and major surgeries would be covered. Health CARE is a concept that folks need care to live- for most people this includes a host of 100% necessary and predictable things. For everyone- those needs are different. For the unfortunate, those needs are more and complex. The simplest problem with how our systems operate currently is that health CARE is not affordable. So we look to health insurance to fill the gap. Health INSURANCE is trying (and failing miserably) to be the system for all health needs- when it really should just be for the house burning down. Health insurance companies are now in powerful position over our health care. This is bad. Those who are unfortunate enough to have been born with any physical or mental disability are either uninsurable or without proper care. Essentially, under this broken system- if you don't have money and you do need health care- you're screwed.
Take the basic argument for hearing aids. Hearing impairment fits under one of those "stupid amounts" statistic. As my friend Katy describes, a stupid amount of pumpkin pie is the amount you should just eat because it is too small to put back in the fridge and too much to throw away. Hearing loss over the whole population is too small to have lobbying might, but too big to include hearing aids as an included service. Too many elderly need hearing aids. Too few young people need them. I found several sites that say 1 in 5 hearing impaired people that need hearing aids actually wear them. I think some of this is due to the fact that hearing aids are an acquired taste, but largely the cost seems to be the main deterrent. For insurance companies- the argument is that they cannot justify the young paying higher premiums to cushion the cost of the elderly needs. This argument seems shaky at best, since elderly are generally more expensive and have more health care needs and costs than younger people regardless of the hearing aid issue. $6000 every 5 years is a lot to us, but is it that much for an insurance company? I honestly don't know. Again- I think the issue is that we don't have a system of health CARE in place, and so our health insurance industry is under identity crisis- providing both catastrophic insurance and basic needs when and where it wants, with profit in mind.
All I know is this: hearing is a big deal. If I don't have hearing aids- I cannot function as well in the world. I cannot participate in the economy, workforce, or socially in any way that would not require significant assistance from others. With hearing aids, despite my severe to profound hearing loss- I have even fooled some people who are surprised to learn that I cannot hear. My Grandmother needs hearing aids. Before she deteriorated to her current state of dementia, her hearing loss acted as a compounding factor in social and intellectual decline as she isolated herself because she couldn't hear. Once I got a hold of her and got her fitted with better quality hearing aids (like I said- a whole different post)- it was too late in her stage of dementia and ear health. Now her hearing aids are more of a safety feature. She may not be able to carry on a detailed social conversation, but she can hear "STOP!" There was a man who wrote a comment on the blog I linked above- he was 45 years old, his marriage was suffering from communication issues and his finances could not handle another investment in hearing aids. With hearing aids he is probably fully capable of social interaction and holding a skilled job. Without them, he is forced to retreat into his shell and figure out another way to function in the world.
This is a problem. Hearing aids are just one of a plethora of examples of how we are not close to solving the issue of health CARE in America.
What do you think? I want to petition the government or someone to help insurance coverage of hearing aids- but I think this is asking for the wrong thing... There is a much larger problem here. Any thoughts? Ideas?
I just dropped $6,095.00 on new hearing aids. They are top of the line, digital hearing aids that will last between 4-7 years. I'm hoping to stretch them to 8 years. I am not a candidate for a cochlear implant. I do not function on "cheap" hearing aids (that's another post altogether!). Hearing aids are typically not covered under most insurance company policies. Mine is one of the most. I looked online for reasons why insurance companies exclude hearing aids from their coverage. I found this article: http://califmedicineman.blogspot.com/2007/12/why-insurance-companies-dont-pay-for.html (forgive me- I'm not up to date on creating links). This article is written by a doctor in California and is not completely researched, but not completely bogus either. The summary of this doctor's point (I believe) is that insurance companies are intended to insure against catastrophic events (ie- homeowners insurance pays for when the house burns down). SO health insurance is intended to pay for when you surprisingly have to have surgery. In this theme, the happenstance of a heart attack is insured, but the certainty that a hearing impaired person needs hearing aids cannot be "insured" because that person will definitely, always need hearing aids- so it isn't a "what-if," catastrophic possibility. I can see on paper why this makes sense. Why would you pay a company to cover all your health needs if your health needs are 100% predictable? You cut out the middle man and pay for it yourself. The company has no profit capacity if they cover the predictable.
It hit me as I read some of the comments on the blog entry.... regardless of the logic of money- people need hearing aids and only the financially stronger folks can afford it. I have yet to pay for my own hearing aids with my own money. The last set were paid for with help from my parents and my Grandmother. This time I guess you could say I paid for this set, except it was through the yearly inheritance check from my Grandmother- hardly my own bootstraps. We do have savings- but they would have been completely depleted- 4 years of savings would be whittled down to next to nothing. In a year when it is likely that we will be moved, and possible that we will need to purchase a home- it would be bad not to have savings.
So I think the question: "Why don't health insurance companies cover hearing aids?" -is really the wrong question. The question is rather, why do we have a system of health insurance that hardly substitutes for a lack of a system of health CARE? Think about it. If the catastrophic events were the only things that broke the bank- health insurance could be fairly simple. Hospital visits and major surgeries would be covered. Health CARE is a concept that folks need care to live- for most people this includes a host of 100% necessary and predictable things. For everyone- those needs are different. For the unfortunate, those needs are more and complex. The simplest problem with how our systems operate currently is that health CARE is not affordable. So we look to health insurance to fill the gap. Health INSURANCE is trying (and failing miserably) to be the system for all health needs- when it really should just be for the house burning down. Health insurance companies are now in powerful position over our health care. This is bad. Those who are unfortunate enough to have been born with any physical or mental disability are either uninsurable or without proper care. Essentially, under this broken system- if you don't have money and you do need health care- you're screwed.
Take the basic argument for hearing aids. Hearing impairment fits under one of those "stupid amounts" statistic. As my friend Katy describes, a stupid amount of pumpkin pie is the amount you should just eat because it is too small to put back in the fridge and too much to throw away. Hearing loss over the whole population is too small to have lobbying might, but too big to include hearing aids as an included service. Too many elderly need hearing aids. Too few young people need them. I found several sites that say 1 in 5 hearing impaired people that need hearing aids actually wear them. I think some of this is due to the fact that hearing aids are an acquired taste, but largely the cost seems to be the main deterrent. For insurance companies- the argument is that they cannot justify the young paying higher premiums to cushion the cost of the elderly needs. This argument seems shaky at best, since elderly are generally more expensive and have more health care needs and costs than younger people regardless of the hearing aid issue. $6000 every 5 years is a lot to us, but is it that much for an insurance company? I honestly don't know. Again- I think the issue is that we don't have a system of health CARE in place, and so our health insurance industry is under identity crisis- providing both catastrophic insurance and basic needs when and where it wants, with profit in mind.
All I know is this: hearing is a big deal. If I don't have hearing aids- I cannot function as well in the world. I cannot participate in the economy, workforce, or socially in any way that would not require significant assistance from others. With hearing aids, despite my severe to profound hearing loss- I have even fooled some people who are surprised to learn that I cannot hear. My Grandmother needs hearing aids. Before she deteriorated to her current state of dementia, her hearing loss acted as a compounding factor in social and intellectual decline as she isolated herself because she couldn't hear. Once I got a hold of her and got her fitted with better quality hearing aids (like I said- a whole different post)- it was too late in her stage of dementia and ear health. Now her hearing aids are more of a safety feature. She may not be able to carry on a detailed social conversation, but she can hear "STOP!" There was a man who wrote a comment on the blog I linked above- he was 45 years old, his marriage was suffering from communication issues and his finances could not handle another investment in hearing aids. With hearing aids he is probably fully capable of social interaction and holding a skilled job. Without them, he is forced to retreat into his shell and figure out another way to function in the world.
This is a problem. Hearing aids are just one of a plethora of examples of how we are not close to solving the issue of health CARE in America.
What do you think? I want to petition the government or someone to help insurance coverage of hearing aids- but I think this is asking for the wrong thing... There is a much larger problem here. Any thoughts? Ideas?
Friday, December 2, 2011
5 Hour Layover
I just got back from my family Thanksgiving, or Chrisgiving as we call it. We alternate holidays with the in-laws. When my family gets together for Thanksgiving, we celebrate Christmas as well: Chrisgiving as my sister, Jessa coined it. This year we had the opportunity to go to south Florida where my parents live. In the last few years we have met somewhere in Tennessee to accommodate my sister's pregnancies/baby born times.
To say that the weather was nice is like saying the beach is cute. Amazing. Weather. I'm still in cold shock. I had a wonderful two weeks with my family, and Thanksgiving with the whole gang. What I want to write about now is the little glitch on the way down to Florida.
I'll title the trip: 5 Hour Layover. Being a smart Mom, I booked myself a nonstop flight with my two sons (Jason was traveling separately because of his work schedule). We were to leave Wednesday morning (a week before Thanksgiving, avoiding the crowds) at 1030am and arrive in West Palm Beach at around 1pm. We had to get up early to make it to the flight on time. The boys slept fairly well and I had packed mostly everything the day before. Jason woke me up to feed the baby and start getting ready for the day and I went to the bathroom and went right back to bed. Suddenly my stomach was wracked with intense pain. Fetal position pain. I thought: crap, I can't travel sick with two kids. I told Jason what was happening- tried to um.. work things out- but to no avail except some dry heaving. He continued to get things ready just in case and I fell back to sleep after the pain finally subsided long enough to allow me to sleep. Meanwhile Jason called to find out how much it would be to change the tickets. $600. Because US Airways wants you to fly AND vomit with them. I woke up about an hour later feeling pretty normal. I gave Jason the go and took a quick shower and we shoved ourselves out the door. We got on the road around 9am, with an estimated 30 minute drive to hopefully be at the airport an hour (tight) ahead of our flight. Not so. DC traffic strikes again and we arrived at 10am.
The woman at the counter confirmed what I learned at the check-in kiosk: I'm too late. I've missed my flight and now I have a 3 year old, a 7 month old, two car seats, a stroller and a suitcase with no flight plan. Luckily Jason was still with me as I attempted to work some magic with the airline person. No magic was had. She was inexplicably slow (as she checked me in for a 1040am flight and then realized that it too, was not going to work). I think she was honestly trying (without much gusto or personality- but trying) to help me. There were two options: a flight leaving at noon with a 5 Hour Layover in Charlotte, or the nonstop flight the next morning. Policy was that she had to put me on the next available flight, since I had missed my flight. I begged her to put me on the 1030am flight. She looked like she might have wanted to. Then Mr. Airline Manager came to the scene. The woman visibly stiffened. I was screwed. She said that I wanted the 1030 flight and he spoke about me in third person, two feet from my face. "She MISSed her flight, so SHE will have to be put on the next available flight..." etc. I begged him- showing him the cute faces of my children and explaining why we were late. The grace button was not pushed. Jason had been hanging behind with the kids and came up for an update. I gave the update, laced with a little acid about the helpfulness and grace and mercy of the employers.
Then it dawned on me. I couldn't change a damn thing. We were going to either fly the 5 Hour Layover or pay $600 to change the flight. Either way it sucked, and I was going to have to deal with it. I decided to change my attitude. (For those who know me well- this was an act of extreme growth on my part.) SO I decided that we were going to make it. It was going to be ok and we were going to get there. And you know what? It for real made the day doable. I KNOW myself, and if I hadn't made that grown-up decision to stop sulking or simmering, the day would have been a disaster. Instead I made it through the tough moments when I was physically exhausted from walking a 3 year old and steering a 7 month old while the 3 year old tried to wander off or stand directly in the middle of airport "traffic" and the 7 month old screamed himself to sleep. In the end, there were actually some sweet moments and I was able to appreciate them.
Basically I was shoved in the back of the plane for the first flight and there was one empty seat next to me. I hoped it would remain so- but as I saw a woman continue to walk to the back of the plane, I knew she was my seat-mate. The moment she recognized where she was sitting was the best, most real expression of panic that I have ever seen in my life. I would pay money to see it again. She frantically looked for empty seats, refused to sit until she was sure she had no other options, and managed to neither speak to me or make eye contact for the entire flight. I tried to make nice, letting her off the hook for wanting to sit somewhere else and making the hopeful promise that my kids usually travel well. The ladies in front of me were making eyes at my boys, and at the end of the flight one of them turned to me and said: you were right, your boys were very well-behaved. I swelled with pride. My positive attitude made it so the terrified lady was actually the funniest thing about my day. I wasn't angry, but strangely amused. Her worse nightmare was my every day choice. HA! I've never seen someone so uncomfortable around children. The second flight went well, with some moments where I had to be creative to keep Hunter entertained. When the sky grew dark and the city lights started shining- Hunter began to tell me everything he saw: ships, cars, houses, buildings, trucks, planes. It was musical how magic the scene was for him. When we landed, the also kid-hesitant seat-mate of this flight was kind enough to complement my children as well as several others on the plane. Again I swelled with pride. My boys were so good. AND- we landed and were done.
When we arrived, my Dad picked us up- and it was so good to see my willing and able Daddy- ready to help. He took Hunter to the bathroom and laughed about how he never did that with us girls because we always went with Mom to the public bathrooms. We got to the baggage claim and I immediately saw our two car seats, but no luggage. They lost my luggage. Of course. Again- my attitude was such that I thought it was hilarious. Of course they lost my luggage! They had 5 hours to find the right plane, and not only did it go on the wrong plane to the wrong city- it went on the wrong airline! I was so relieved that we had the car seats- we could go home- I didn't care about the luggage- one less thing to haul.
They delivered the luggage the next day and already the 5 Hour Layover was a distant memory because Hunter and Graham were happily playing in sunny Florida. And I experienced the power of choosing to have a good attitude. It was a lesson that will stay with me. The nonstop flight back to DC was so easy I wondered why I ever worried about 2.5 hour flights with kids before. After the 5 Hour Layover- I could do anything!
Growing up isn't so bad.
To say that the weather was nice is like saying the beach is cute. Amazing. Weather. I'm still in cold shock. I had a wonderful two weeks with my family, and Thanksgiving with the whole gang. What I want to write about now is the little glitch on the way down to Florida.
I'll title the trip: 5 Hour Layover. Being a smart Mom, I booked myself a nonstop flight with my two sons (Jason was traveling separately because of his work schedule). We were to leave Wednesday morning (a week before Thanksgiving, avoiding the crowds) at 1030am and arrive in West Palm Beach at around 1pm. We had to get up early to make it to the flight on time. The boys slept fairly well and I had packed mostly everything the day before. Jason woke me up to feed the baby and start getting ready for the day and I went to the bathroom and went right back to bed. Suddenly my stomach was wracked with intense pain. Fetal position pain. I thought: crap, I can't travel sick with two kids. I told Jason what was happening- tried to um.. work things out- but to no avail except some dry heaving. He continued to get things ready just in case and I fell back to sleep after the pain finally subsided long enough to allow me to sleep. Meanwhile Jason called to find out how much it would be to change the tickets. $600. Because US Airways wants you to fly AND vomit with them. I woke up about an hour later feeling pretty normal. I gave Jason the go and took a quick shower and we shoved ourselves out the door. We got on the road around 9am, with an estimated 30 minute drive to hopefully be at the airport an hour (tight) ahead of our flight. Not so. DC traffic strikes again and we arrived at 10am.
The woman at the counter confirmed what I learned at the check-in kiosk: I'm too late. I've missed my flight and now I have a 3 year old, a 7 month old, two car seats, a stroller and a suitcase with no flight plan. Luckily Jason was still with me as I attempted to work some magic with the airline person. No magic was had. She was inexplicably slow (as she checked me in for a 1040am flight and then realized that it too, was not going to work). I think she was honestly trying (without much gusto or personality- but trying) to help me. There were two options: a flight leaving at noon with a 5 Hour Layover in Charlotte, or the nonstop flight the next morning. Policy was that she had to put me on the next available flight, since I had missed my flight. I begged her to put me on the 1030am flight. She looked like she might have wanted to. Then Mr. Airline Manager came to the scene. The woman visibly stiffened. I was screwed. She said that I wanted the 1030 flight and he spoke about me in third person, two feet from my face. "She MISSed her flight, so SHE will have to be put on the next available flight..." etc. I begged him- showing him the cute faces of my children and explaining why we were late. The grace button was not pushed. Jason had been hanging behind with the kids and came up for an update. I gave the update, laced with a little acid about the helpfulness and grace and mercy of the employers.
Then it dawned on me. I couldn't change a damn thing. We were going to either fly the 5 Hour Layover or pay $600 to change the flight. Either way it sucked, and I was going to have to deal with it. I decided to change my attitude. (For those who know me well- this was an act of extreme growth on my part.) SO I decided that we were going to make it. It was going to be ok and we were going to get there. And you know what? It for real made the day doable. I KNOW myself, and if I hadn't made that grown-up decision to stop sulking or simmering, the day would have been a disaster. Instead I made it through the tough moments when I was physically exhausted from walking a 3 year old and steering a 7 month old while the 3 year old tried to wander off or stand directly in the middle of airport "traffic" and the 7 month old screamed himself to sleep. In the end, there were actually some sweet moments and I was able to appreciate them.
Basically I was shoved in the back of the plane for the first flight and there was one empty seat next to me. I hoped it would remain so- but as I saw a woman continue to walk to the back of the plane, I knew she was my seat-mate. The moment she recognized where she was sitting was the best, most real expression of panic that I have ever seen in my life. I would pay money to see it again. She frantically looked for empty seats, refused to sit until she was sure she had no other options, and managed to neither speak to me or make eye contact for the entire flight. I tried to make nice, letting her off the hook for wanting to sit somewhere else and making the hopeful promise that my kids usually travel well. The ladies in front of me were making eyes at my boys, and at the end of the flight one of them turned to me and said: you were right, your boys were very well-behaved. I swelled with pride. My positive attitude made it so the terrified lady was actually the funniest thing about my day. I wasn't angry, but strangely amused. Her worse nightmare was my every day choice. HA! I've never seen someone so uncomfortable around children. The second flight went well, with some moments where I had to be creative to keep Hunter entertained. When the sky grew dark and the city lights started shining- Hunter began to tell me everything he saw: ships, cars, houses, buildings, trucks, planes. It was musical how magic the scene was for him. When we landed, the also kid-hesitant seat-mate of this flight was kind enough to complement my children as well as several others on the plane. Again I swelled with pride. My boys were so good. AND- we landed and were done.
When we arrived, my Dad picked us up- and it was so good to see my willing and able Daddy- ready to help. He took Hunter to the bathroom and laughed about how he never did that with us girls because we always went with Mom to the public bathrooms. We got to the baggage claim and I immediately saw our two car seats, but no luggage. They lost my luggage. Of course. Again- my attitude was such that I thought it was hilarious. Of course they lost my luggage! They had 5 hours to find the right plane, and not only did it go on the wrong plane to the wrong city- it went on the wrong airline! I was so relieved that we had the car seats- we could go home- I didn't care about the luggage- one less thing to haul.
They delivered the luggage the next day and already the 5 Hour Layover was a distant memory because Hunter and Graham were happily playing in sunny Florida. And I experienced the power of choosing to have a good attitude. It was a lesson that will stay with me. The nonstop flight back to DC was so easy I wondered why I ever worried about 2.5 hour flights with kids before. After the 5 Hour Layover- I could do anything!
Growing up isn't so bad.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Continued Thankfulness
Ok I stopped at 6- here we go... I am thankful for:
7- Good books.
8- Coffee. (have I already mentioned it?)
9- The beautiful sun.
10- My brain. (hours of entertainment in there)
11- The ability to travel to see family.
12- Dinner Delivery. (answered prayer on some days)
13- My health. (this is no small gift)
I'll get deep as the days grow less and I have to start putting people up in here. I like being thankful for the little things though.
7- Good books.
8- Coffee. (have I already mentioned it?)
9- The beautiful sun.
10- My brain. (hours of entertainment in there)
11- The ability to travel to see family.
12- Dinner Delivery. (answered prayer on some days)
13- My health. (this is no small gift)
I'll get deep as the days grow less and I have to start putting people up in here. I like being thankful for the little things though.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
The Unemployed are Lazy
This is a common judgment made for those who are on the streets or collecting unemployment payments. I don't understand why such a broad (and false) statement gathers so much steam. The Occupy Wall Street movement has stirred up some real conversation. Some of those conversations are more in the form of satire and sarcasm, and the backlash of people who wish to teach the "occupiers" some life lessons is strong. The misconception that unemployed are lazy or un-wise at best is at the heart of most negative responses. I have heard and read these comments lately: "Go get a job!" "I am the 1% of the 99% who work hard and don't whine."
I hear the perspective of those who are frustrated because they work their tail off and don't expect special treatment and make it work. You are to be commended for your hard work. Your wise choices of not being in credit card debt and not losing your house are rewards in themselves. America (et all) screwed up. Things got out of control. Greed is the new black. I get this. When someone who has miles of credit card debt and bad financial decisions wants to be forgiven their debts, it does smack a little of unfairness for me who has always and I mean ALWAYS paid my bills in full. Then I am challenged by the parable Jesus told of the hired hands. Remember that parable?
Matthew 20:1-16
“For the kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. After agreeing with the laborers for the usual daily wage, he sent them into his vineyard. When he went out about nine o’clock, he saw others standing idle in the marketplace; and he said to them, ‘You also go into the vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is right.’ So they went. When he went out again about noon and about three o’clock, he did the same. And about five o’clock he went out and found others standing around; and he said to them, ‘Why are you standing here idle all day?’ They said to him, ‘Because no one has hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You also go into the vineyard.’ When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his manager, ‘Call the laborers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and then going to the first.’ When those hired about five o’clock came, each of them received the usual daily wage. Now when the first came, they thought they would receive more; but each of them also received the usual daily wage. And when they received it, they grumbled against the landowner, saying, ‘These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.’ But he replied to one of them, ‘Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? Take what belongs to you and go; I choose to give to this last the same as I give to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?’ So the last will be first, and the first will be last.”
This parable reminds me that if I got hired first- I was already lucky. I have a strong back, a clean face. Those hired last are the ones who are old, injured, or plain unlucky. Some might argue that the first ones had good reputations and were hard working and the last ones were lazy and thieves. The scripture does not give us those details. I could counter-argue that the first ones beat the weaker ones down day after day, and the last ones were persistent- standing at that corner for work all day, every day despite their disabilities. The scripture doesn't give us those details either.
Here's the part that the gainfully employed and hard working folks tend to forget... the system favored you. For those that the system did not favor- you lucked out. If you are: not a genius, mentally disabled, physically disabled, not from money, any ethnicity other than white, and a woman, then you will have to work harder. Period. Sometimes it doesn't matter how hard you work. Sometimes the cards are stacked too high against you.
I read a post on Facebook that was one of those pictures of a person holding a sheet of paper that tells their short story in relation to the Occupy Wall Street protests: "I am the 99%." This one was a satire in opposition to the movement, here is what it said: "I have a steady job with a regular paycheck, great benefits, and lots of room for promotion. Next year I will be paid to go to college and graduate with a guaranteed position making a decent salary. I am the 1% of the 99% that decided hard work and sacrifice were more prudent than complaining about how life is too hard and I'm not getting any free handouts." The writer appears to be a man named Dustin Franks who was in a US Army military uniform. I applaud his hard work- and his career choice. The military is certainly a good choice in this economic time- if you are able to make the commitment and qualify for the service. My Dad was in the Air Force, and retired a Lt. Colonel. Growing up we did not have the trendy clothes, but we had everything we needed and great medical coverage- we never waited to go to the doctor because we couldn't afford it.
I am ineligible for military service. I am hearing impaired. Our military does not accept disabled people into the service. There are valid arguments on either side of this issue, I don't want to debate it here. I just want to point out that this option is not available to me or any others with a physical disability. I don't want to be in the military, so it does not affect me personally. However, this is the only gig I know that provides all of the things that Mr. Franks listed on his paper. So, no matter how hard I work, I cannot get that opportunity. I could be like Keith Nolan (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/08/21/keith-nolan-deaf-man-army_n_932465.html) but with a 3 year old and a 6 month old and a husband with a full time job, this would not be prudent.
To those who post responses like these. Please wait. Listen. Watch. You might find that the majority of the folks now who are unemployed are not lazy. Are some of them? Heck yes. Are some military and other gainfully employed civilians lazy? Heck yes. Are there people who went in over their heads with their housing? Yes. Are there some folks who carefully planned it out and still got in over their heads because they lost their jobs and did not have the benefit of family and friends who could help them when their savings ran out? Heck yes. Don't even get me started with the medical bill debts. I have two friends (a married couple) who both have master's degrees, are hard workers and have ONE child. If they didn't have a system of financial support (I'm talking medical insurance coverage + government assistance + family support + church support + freakin HARD work)- they would be on the streets and their daughter would be dead or at least hardly functioning.
Please, don't judge an injustice by the exceptions. Don't be so naive as to assume that hard work is the only reason why you are employed. Are you smart? Not everyone is. The same genes that gave me my hearing disability (unannounced and unprecedented- neither of my parents nor did any of my Grandparents have congenital hearing loss) also gifted me with a high-functioning brain. We lucked out by being stationed near good school systems. My Mom had the will and ability to stay home during the day so that our education was bolstered by a constant family presence at home. My parents were nicely matched in skill so that we almost always had someone who knew the answer to a homework assignment, we did not need to seek or pay for tutoring. My Grandparents managed their money (also a military career) and only had 3 grandchildren- so they were able to pay for our college education. My Dad who had retired from the military after 22 years and a new job as a test pilot, was able to pay for my room and board in college. I went on to grad school where I got a masters with a scholarship, a very part-time job and my parents' financial help. I got married with zero debt, a car and a master's degree. I am currently a stay at home mom. Not exactly bringing home the dough, but certainly saving us some money on childcare cost. I do not kid myself that all my hard work brought me to this place. Sure I work hard. Not as hard as some, but I wouldn't call myself lazy. I would not be here if my Grandfather didn't have excellent luck and strong will (that's an entirely different post), if my Dad wasn't able to "squish" his tall frame in the cockpit to qualify physically as a pilot and make a successful career out of being a test-pilot, if my husband wasn't able and willing to work full time to support his whole family financially, if my husband's job didn't happen to come with benefits such as free housing and a generous congregation that gives you baby gifts and meals. I am not naive- I have a LOT of luck, or blessings, or community, or family. They also happen to be willing and able to help me.
I thank God for my blessings, I work hard to do what I can. My husband works harder than anyone I know. We live frugally and spend wisely. However, I know that without the support I've been given all my life to this day- I would be in a very different place.
I am the 1% of the 99% who has had a lot of things given to me and I don't assume that my hard work is why I got it.
I hear the perspective of those who are frustrated because they work their tail off and don't expect special treatment and make it work. You are to be commended for your hard work. Your wise choices of not being in credit card debt and not losing your house are rewards in themselves. America (et all) screwed up. Things got out of control. Greed is the new black. I get this. When someone who has miles of credit card debt and bad financial decisions wants to be forgiven their debts, it does smack a little of unfairness for me who has always and I mean ALWAYS paid my bills in full. Then I am challenged by the parable Jesus told of the hired hands. Remember that parable?
Matthew 20:1-16
“For the kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. After agreeing with the laborers for the usual daily wage, he sent them into his vineyard. When he went out about nine o’clock, he saw others standing idle in the marketplace; and he said to them, ‘You also go into the vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is right.’ So they went. When he went out again about noon and about three o’clock, he did the same. And about five o’clock he went out and found others standing around; and he said to them, ‘Why are you standing here idle all day?’ They said to him, ‘Because no one has hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You also go into the vineyard.’ When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his manager, ‘Call the laborers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and then going to the first.’ When those hired about five o’clock came, each of them received the usual daily wage. Now when the first came, they thought they would receive more; but each of them also received the usual daily wage. And when they received it, they grumbled against the landowner, saying, ‘These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.’ But he replied to one of them, ‘Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? Take what belongs to you and go; I choose to give to this last the same as I give to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?’ So the last will be first, and the first will be last.”
This parable reminds me that if I got hired first- I was already lucky. I have a strong back, a clean face. Those hired last are the ones who are old, injured, or plain unlucky. Some might argue that the first ones had good reputations and were hard working and the last ones were lazy and thieves. The scripture does not give us those details. I could counter-argue that the first ones beat the weaker ones down day after day, and the last ones were persistent- standing at that corner for work all day, every day despite their disabilities. The scripture doesn't give us those details either.
Here's the part that the gainfully employed and hard working folks tend to forget... the system favored you. For those that the system did not favor- you lucked out. If you are: not a genius, mentally disabled, physically disabled, not from money, any ethnicity other than white, and a woman, then you will have to work harder. Period. Sometimes it doesn't matter how hard you work. Sometimes the cards are stacked too high against you.
I read a post on Facebook that was one of those pictures of a person holding a sheet of paper that tells their short story in relation to the Occupy Wall Street protests: "I am the 99%." This one was a satire in opposition to the movement, here is what it said: "I have a steady job with a regular paycheck, great benefits, and lots of room for promotion. Next year I will be paid to go to college and graduate with a guaranteed position making a decent salary. I am the 1% of the 99% that decided hard work and sacrifice were more prudent than complaining about how life is too hard and I'm not getting any free handouts." The writer appears to be a man named Dustin Franks who was in a US Army military uniform. I applaud his hard work- and his career choice. The military is certainly a good choice in this economic time- if you are able to make the commitment and qualify for the service. My Dad was in the Air Force, and retired a Lt. Colonel. Growing up we did not have the trendy clothes, but we had everything we needed and great medical coverage- we never waited to go to the doctor because we couldn't afford it.
I am ineligible for military service. I am hearing impaired. Our military does not accept disabled people into the service. There are valid arguments on either side of this issue, I don't want to debate it here. I just want to point out that this option is not available to me or any others with a physical disability. I don't want to be in the military, so it does not affect me personally. However, this is the only gig I know that provides all of the things that Mr. Franks listed on his paper. So, no matter how hard I work, I cannot get that opportunity. I could be like Keith Nolan (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/08/21/keith-nolan-deaf-man-army_n_932465.html) but with a 3 year old and a 6 month old and a husband with a full time job, this would not be prudent.
To those who post responses like these. Please wait. Listen. Watch. You might find that the majority of the folks now who are unemployed are not lazy. Are some of them? Heck yes. Are some military and other gainfully employed civilians lazy? Heck yes. Are there people who went in over their heads with their housing? Yes. Are there some folks who carefully planned it out and still got in over their heads because they lost their jobs and did not have the benefit of family and friends who could help them when their savings ran out? Heck yes. Don't even get me started with the medical bill debts. I have two friends (a married couple) who both have master's degrees, are hard workers and have ONE child. If they didn't have a system of financial support (I'm talking medical insurance coverage + government assistance + family support + church support + freakin HARD work)- they would be on the streets and their daughter would be dead or at least hardly functioning.
Please, don't judge an injustice by the exceptions. Don't be so naive as to assume that hard work is the only reason why you are employed. Are you smart? Not everyone is. The same genes that gave me my hearing disability (unannounced and unprecedented- neither of my parents nor did any of my Grandparents have congenital hearing loss) also gifted me with a high-functioning brain. We lucked out by being stationed near good school systems. My Mom had the will and ability to stay home during the day so that our education was bolstered by a constant family presence at home. My parents were nicely matched in skill so that we almost always had someone who knew the answer to a homework assignment, we did not need to seek or pay for tutoring. My Grandparents managed their money (also a military career) and only had 3 grandchildren- so they were able to pay for our college education. My Dad who had retired from the military after 22 years and a new job as a test pilot, was able to pay for my room and board in college. I went on to grad school where I got a masters with a scholarship, a very part-time job and my parents' financial help. I got married with zero debt, a car and a master's degree. I am currently a stay at home mom. Not exactly bringing home the dough, but certainly saving us some money on childcare cost. I do not kid myself that all my hard work brought me to this place. Sure I work hard. Not as hard as some, but I wouldn't call myself lazy. I would not be here if my Grandfather didn't have excellent luck and strong will (that's an entirely different post), if my Dad wasn't able to "squish" his tall frame in the cockpit to qualify physically as a pilot and make a successful career out of being a test-pilot, if my husband wasn't able and willing to work full time to support his whole family financially, if my husband's job didn't happen to come with benefits such as free housing and a generous congregation that gives you baby gifts and meals. I am not naive- I have a LOT of luck, or blessings, or community, or family. They also happen to be willing and able to help me.
I thank God for my blessings, I work hard to do what I can. My husband works harder than anyone I know. We live frugally and spend wisely. However, I know that without the support I've been given all my life to this day- I would be in a very different place.
I am the 1% of the 99% who has had a lot of things given to me and I don't assume that my hard work is why I got it.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Thankfulness
I have been blessed to read the short and long lists and descriptions of things that many of my friends are thankful for. People have been updating their blogs, Facebook, and twitter with these nuggets of gratitude. I'm digging it. It's a good trend and I'm going to jump on the bandwagon. Because if anyone needs to practice thankfulness, it's me.
So I'm going to start small and inanimate for the first 6 days of November.
I am grateful for:
1) The laundry chute. Oh how I love thee.
2) My iphone. It keeps me connected and efficient.
3) My video baby monitor. As a hearing impaired person, this saves me a lot of attempts to walk quietly and check on a baby.
4) The train table in my room. Hunter has been entertained during countless showers, blogging, or bill-paying on the computer.
5) The baby activity center. Graham has been entertained and safe during those same showers and computer ventures.
6) Automatic bill-payments. Without it, we would have bad credit, guilt and late fees.
I'll try to keep this up. I imagine it'll be in spurts like this one. I'm reading a book (realllllllly slowwwwwly) that has in it a challenge to the readers to keep a short but regular journal of gratitude (5 things a day- just write them down). I haven't started this practice- but like many things I don't do- I think it's a pretty good idea. I'm almost worried at how cheerful and positive I'll get once I start counting my blessings. (I recognize that's ridiculous.)
So I'm going to start small and inanimate for the first 6 days of November.
I am grateful for:
1) The laundry chute. Oh how I love thee.
2) My iphone. It keeps me connected and efficient.
3) My video baby monitor. As a hearing impaired person, this saves me a lot of attempts to walk quietly and check on a baby.
4) The train table in my room. Hunter has been entertained during countless showers, blogging, or bill-paying on the computer.
5) The baby activity center. Graham has been entertained and safe during those same showers and computer ventures.
6) Automatic bill-payments. Without it, we would have bad credit, guilt and late fees.
I'll try to keep this up. I imagine it'll be in spurts like this one. I'm reading a book (realllllllly slowwwwwly) that has in it a challenge to the readers to keep a short but regular journal of gratitude (5 things a day- just write them down). I haven't started this practice- but like many things I don't do- I think it's a pretty good idea. I'm almost worried at how cheerful and positive I'll get once I start counting my blessings. (I recognize that's ridiculous.)
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Dreams that are obvious
This is the blog post that I write basically every day without realizing it. Basically everyone has dreams, goals, hopes, aspirations. Some more lofty than others, some more attainable than others, but all are life-giving. When you stop dreaming, you sort of stop.... stagnate. This is a a little of what happened to me when I went through some of my depression issues (compounded by the loss of my Grandmother and the burden of being a Mom and caregiver for my other Grandmother). I got so busy with grief and survival and the well-being of those I cared for, that I kind of forgot about dreaming. I didn't have the energy.
Then I kind of went a little overboard. I climbed out of the ditch of darkness and started running as fast as I could for fear of falling back in. I pursued my dreams of becoming a chaplain, enrolled myself in a unit of CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education) and completed this internship and education in the last two trimesters of my pregnancy and first 2 months of my son's life. Looking back, I think, what the hell was I thinking?! It was Hard. I did it though, and the sheer completion gives me more confidence now than I've had in a while. Once I saw the light (with a little help from my peer group in the program)- I realized I didn't need to run so hard. I could pursue multiple dreams without discrediting the others. I wanted to be a Mom. One that is home, doing the home thing. Basically I feel that I can do it better than anyone else and I don't make a mint trying to prove otherwise. That, and I genuinely want to be home with the boys.
Of course, I still need the art of dreaming to keep me from stagnating and getting a little stir-crazy. So in my break from my chaplaincy training, I'm finding that the dream that excites me the most right now is writing. I don't even know what that looks like. It's been a foundational dream of mine for ages. I have felt called to various roles in my life, but my heart always falls dreamily back on the art of writing. This is what makes me happy. This is what I steal time to do. This is the scariest, most obvious dream I have. And yet- I ignore it because I don't know what to do with it. So I dabble in blogging, I read others' writing. I get inspired by random articles posted on Facebook. I get annoyed by some articles that have been published and are horrifically written. I get self-conscious about my own style and wonder if I'm making grammatical and spelling errors left and right.
So, what do we do with our obvious dreams? The ones that haunt the back of our minds because while they make us the most happy, they also scare the ever-loving bejeebus out of us. They are often the hardest to accomplish, the vaguest to plan for, and of course they make the least amount of money. Who ever heard of a rich theologian?
Then I kind of went a little overboard. I climbed out of the ditch of darkness and started running as fast as I could for fear of falling back in. I pursued my dreams of becoming a chaplain, enrolled myself in a unit of CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education) and completed this internship and education in the last two trimesters of my pregnancy and first 2 months of my son's life. Looking back, I think, what the hell was I thinking?! It was Hard. I did it though, and the sheer completion gives me more confidence now than I've had in a while. Once I saw the light (with a little help from my peer group in the program)- I realized I didn't need to run so hard. I could pursue multiple dreams without discrediting the others. I wanted to be a Mom. One that is home, doing the home thing. Basically I feel that I can do it better than anyone else and I don't make a mint trying to prove otherwise. That, and I genuinely want to be home with the boys.
Of course, I still need the art of dreaming to keep me from stagnating and getting a little stir-crazy. So in my break from my chaplaincy training, I'm finding that the dream that excites me the most right now is writing. I don't even know what that looks like. It's been a foundational dream of mine for ages. I have felt called to various roles in my life, but my heart always falls dreamily back on the art of writing. This is what makes me happy. This is what I steal time to do. This is the scariest, most obvious dream I have. And yet- I ignore it because I don't know what to do with it. So I dabble in blogging, I read others' writing. I get inspired by random articles posted on Facebook. I get annoyed by some articles that have been published and are horrifically written. I get self-conscious about my own style and wonder if I'm making grammatical and spelling errors left and right.
So, what do we do with our obvious dreams? The ones that haunt the back of our minds because while they make us the most happy, they also scare the ever-loving bejeebus out of us. They are often the hardest to accomplish, the vaguest to plan for, and of course they make the least amount of money. Who ever heard of a rich theologian?
Observations about Mom-sponsibilities
I feel the need to point out two things that bolster my feminist swingings lately. They both allude to what is generally understood to be what I call the Mom-sponsibilities. Mom-sponsibilities are the responsibilities of Moms that no one else is aware of or accountable to (according to the stereotype- I disagree with Mom-sponsibilities).
I watched a couple episodes of the show "Clean House" by TLC on my Netflix to inspire me and for fun. The host of the show (a female comedienne) did something subtle but annoying, and I'm intrigued to see if she does it again in further episodes. When entering a cluttered home of a couple, the host has twice now said "You have got to be kidding me, ______!" Fill in the blank with- you guessed it- the name of the female. Because obviously, it's her responsibility. Both shows she did this. Keep in mind, both females were not stay at home Moms (not that that should make a difference). But it was clear who the host assumed was responsible for letting the clutter get out of hand. Annoying.
Second thing, our fabulous preschool (which is truly fabulous), has a "Dad Day." This is a nice thing, encouraging dads to come for an hour or so of their children's preschool and playing with them, seeing them in their element. Is there a Mom's day? No. What did I get in Hunter's bag? A flyer reminding Dad how important it is to read to his child. Um. I'm not sure what is more weird- the fact that they assume all the dads are deadbeat, or that they assume all the moms are doing exactly what they should and don't need any special time with their child. Don't get me wrong, I understand what they are doing here, and the stereotypes they are falling into are not always untrue. However, things like this make me feel like we don't give people a chance to be awesome. We just assume Dad never sees his kid and Mom is constantly present. I would have liked a Mom Day. Most people I have shared this with give me a blank stare or some sort of defense for the preschool: "most of the Moms are stay at home, so ..." So what?
Anyway. Just my thoughts. Am I the only one here, or does this strike a chord with anyone else?
I watched a couple episodes of the show "Clean House" by TLC on my Netflix to inspire me and for fun. The host of the show (a female comedienne) did something subtle but annoying, and I'm intrigued to see if she does it again in further episodes. When entering a cluttered home of a couple, the host has twice now said "You have got to be kidding me, ______!" Fill in the blank with- you guessed it- the name of the female. Because obviously, it's her responsibility. Both shows she did this. Keep in mind, both females were not stay at home Moms (not that that should make a difference). But it was clear who the host assumed was responsible for letting the clutter get out of hand. Annoying.
Second thing, our fabulous preschool (which is truly fabulous), has a "Dad Day." This is a nice thing, encouraging dads to come for an hour or so of their children's preschool and playing with them, seeing them in their element. Is there a Mom's day? No. What did I get in Hunter's bag? A flyer reminding Dad how important it is to read to his child. Um. I'm not sure what is more weird- the fact that they assume all the dads are deadbeat, or that they assume all the moms are doing exactly what they should and don't need any special time with their child. Don't get me wrong, I understand what they are doing here, and the stereotypes they are falling into are not always untrue. However, things like this make me feel like we don't give people a chance to be awesome. We just assume Dad never sees his kid and Mom is constantly present. I would have liked a Mom Day. Most people I have shared this with give me a blank stare or some sort of defense for the preschool: "most of the Moms are stay at home, so ..." So what?
Anyway. Just my thoughts. Am I the only one here, or does this strike a chord with anyone else?
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
How to raise up boys right... guess #1
I have been thinking about my boys and how I am so glad I have boys (see my previous posts where I am aghast at short and tight outfits for girls). I recognize that having boys does not exclude me from teaching them about women's issues. The problem is: how? How do I raise a boy to respect women, but keep him from getting the snot beat out of him in 3rd grade for being a feminist? I don't think that being a feminist is a bad thing- I just know that especially with young children, subtlety goes much further than anything that may be construed as flat-out brainwashing. So the answer to raising a female-positive-thinking boy is not to verbally explain in great and emphatic detail about how women should be treated and what the world has done wrong. I also can't depend only on the grace and respect that my husband shows towards me every day (which is definitely an example that will hold a lot of sway, don't get me wrong). It has to be deeper, more elementary and involved. More basic and profound. It has to feel like an everyday duh.
I asked out loud to Jason how we could teach our boys to respect females. He said this perfect (I think) answer: make sure they have girls as friends.
This is it. How do we learn to respect others? How do we learn to embrace differences? By engaging in relationship with the others, with the different ones. Of course! I don't need to lecture my boys on women's rights - let their friends do it for me! I don't need to tell my boys that girls don't have to play with kitchens- let the preschool girl get on the floor with my son and rev up those car engines just as loudly as he does. I don't have to explain that girls have dreams that might not fit stereotype, let the girl tell my son she wants to be an astronaut. At age 3, Hunter can learn basics on how to respect women- amazing!
Imagine as the kids grow older. Having a girl as a friend should feel normal and continue to be encouraged. When a girl is going through a tough time, my son can see it from a friends' perspective. Developing and maintaining friendships with a diverse group of kids is probably the best life preparation tool for a child! The next step is figuring out how to encourage that- but I have a feeling it is a little more organic and requires only that I also broaden my spectrum.
This is good. It relieves some of the pressure and I feel like I can relax a little. I'm sure the time will come when I have to have some conversations with my boys about what is appropriate and what is right, but in the meantime- I'm going to trust YOUR strong, independent and wonderful girls to do the groundwork. Meanwhile I will continue to work on my person, engaging myself in the things that fulfill me. I will work on my marriage, working on it in ways that show my boys that relationships are meaningful, uplifting, worth the work and full of joy and mutual respect. I will work on my speech, speaking affirmations for differences and girls and boys.
What do you think?
I asked out loud to Jason how we could teach our boys to respect females. He said this perfect (I think) answer: make sure they have girls as friends.
This is it. How do we learn to respect others? How do we learn to embrace differences? By engaging in relationship with the others, with the different ones. Of course! I don't need to lecture my boys on women's rights - let their friends do it for me! I don't need to tell my boys that girls don't have to play with kitchens- let the preschool girl get on the floor with my son and rev up those car engines just as loudly as he does. I don't have to explain that girls have dreams that might not fit stereotype, let the girl tell my son she wants to be an astronaut. At age 3, Hunter can learn basics on how to respect women- amazing!
Imagine as the kids grow older. Having a girl as a friend should feel normal and continue to be encouraged. When a girl is going through a tough time, my son can see it from a friends' perspective. Developing and maintaining friendships with a diverse group of kids is probably the best life preparation tool for a child! The next step is figuring out how to encourage that- but I have a feeling it is a little more organic and requires only that I also broaden my spectrum.
This is good. It relieves some of the pressure and I feel like I can relax a little. I'm sure the time will come when I have to have some conversations with my boys about what is appropriate and what is right, but in the meantime- I'm going to trust YOUR strong, independent and wonderful girls to do the groundwork. Meanwhile I will continue to work on my person, engaging myself in the things that fulfill me. I will work on my marriage, working on it in ways that show my boys that relationships are meaningful, uplifting, worth the work and full of joy and mutual respect. I will work on my speech, speaking affirmations for differences and girls and boys.
What do you think?
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Church- is it worth it?
I made an observation today, sort of one of those moments where a few things come together to show you what the world is like from the outside. A little background: I have been an habitual church-goer since grade school. I'm not saying we went every week or the belt was used- just- regular. As I got older I was blessed to have a church that was connecting to me and so I went with more regularity on my own volition. In college I had a hard time finding a church, but when I found one my junior year- you better believe I was there all the time. I LOVE CHURCH.
Fast forward. Seminary it was near impossible to find a church. For me, anyway. I lived in Atlanta so I certainly had no shortage of options. I had every critique and critic throughout history in my mind, so it was very hard to enjoy church or even trust church. I ultimately gave up and tried to attend chapel here and there.
Fast forward. I worked at a church- you would think working there would make you hate it, but I didn't. I love it. I have had two jobs and many ups and downs, but I have loved being a part of this methodist church community where my husband is the associate pastor. I am not even Methodist!
Fast forward. I now have two children and took the necessary and healthy break from most activities, including church, when my boys were born. After each birth, I gave myself about 2 months before I started slowly working my way back in. Now that my youngest is 6 months old, I am back in the thick of things, volunteering and attending worship. It doesn't happen every Sunday and I'm rearranging things so I can get back on track- but we're almost there. Keep in mind, we live across the street. I can leave when the service starts and only miss a couple of announcements. Even still, some days I find it difficult to get myself in worship- especially in the morning (we have an evening service that I currently work childcare for, but I fired myself today so I can get back into worship).
Now- we as church goers/leaders are constantly wondering why people don't commit to come to church. It's Sunday morning- one hour (two if you're really good)- and that's it! Doesn't God deserve that much? When put in those terms, yea, sure- the guilt piles on. However, I witnessed a couple of things Sunday that softened my heart and caused me to think about how we as a church can be reaching out.
Event #1: I dropped my son off at Sunday School (wearing jeans and leaving the baby home, asleep, in the crib- the monitor would almost stretch we're that close). A little boy that my son adores was also being dropped off by his parents, but he was having a hard time letting go of Mommy. (Meanwhile Hunter has completely ditched me for the cars and his crying friend.) I know this family and it hit me- these parents work 5 days a week in the city, with their long commute, they probably get a precious 2 hours with their kids at night each day. Weekends are sacred family time. They live about 15 minutes away. So I thought about it. Most likely the kids got up, they began the process of getting ready (2 kids, 2 adults) and then they have to defrost the car, jump in and drive to the church by 9:20 so they have time to drop off kids and get to church. From potty, showering, dressing, breakfast to the drive- this is easily a 1.5 hour endeavor. They get to church- Mom who would rather stay at home with her kids but can't afford not to work- must suffer the guilt and emotional strain of leaving her sad 3 year old with other people, again. Dad drops older daughter off at Sunday School, maybe thinking that he hasn't had a real conversation with her yet that day. Mom and Dad go to church, hoping to be inspired, enlivened, or at least engaged. They also hope that their kids are enjoying themselves and learning something. This family has actually sacrificed a lot more than I realized, just to be at church for an hour. A worthy sacrifice, yes, and of course no one said that faith was easy or being a part of a community could be done by staying at home. I get all that- but- I kept thinking about that Mom and how I would have been thinking- why the hell am I doing this?! Especially folks who are kind of "trying" the whole church thing out. If that church is not a loving, grace-filled and spirit-filled place- it's really not worth their effort.
Event #2: I read a post on facebook about a family enjoying their lazy morning with their 3 kids. The husband and wife were enjoying some quality time while the children played in the other room. I can't judge them. I was jealous.
SO- here in Northern Virginia when the parents are working so hard they hardly see their kids- if we want to have young families come to church- we better make it worth the trip. How do you balance the reality of families that hardly see one another and the reality that church is a commitment, a bit of a sacrifice? I understand the concept of costly discipleship. I think it's more about standing up for what's right, being willing to put energy into doing good things. Church is really the foundation from which we are to go out and do the costly stuff. Church is the sanctuary. It is the resting place, the gathering, the reservoir, the filling station, the place to be with other people who are on the same road as you are and share the journey - lifting each other up and encouraging one another and learning from one another. If we want people to do the costly discipleship Jesus calls for, we better have some cups of cold water ready for the race. If we want people to turn down a lazy Sunday morning with their family- a sacred time of filling- then we better be very intentional that the church is doing what it should be doing- and surround this struggling family with love and a collective will to do God's work in the world.
Am I making sense? What do you think? Is church "worth" it these days? Do we need to rethink what we're trying to do? If you're not a church-goer - what would compel you to attend church? Why would you come back?
Fast forward. Seminary it was near impossible to find a church. For me, anyway. I lived in Atlanta so I certainly had no shortage of options. I had every critique and critic throughout history in my mind, so it was very hard to enjoy church or even trust church. I ultimately gave up and tried to attend chapel here and there.
Fast forward. I worked at a church- you would think working there would make you hate it, but I didn't. I love it. I have had two jobs and many ups and downs, but I have loved being a part of this methodist church community where my husband is the associate pastor. I am not even Methodist!
Fast forward. I now have two children and took the necessary and healthy break from most activities, including church, when my boys were born. After each birth, I gave myself about 2 months before I started slowly working my way back in. Now that my youngest is 6 months old, I am back in the thick of things, volunteering and attending worship. It doesn't happen every Sunday and I'm rearranging things so I can get back on track- but we're almost there. Keep in mind, we live across the street. I can leave when the service starts and only miss a couple of announcements. Even still, some days I find it difficult to get myself in worship- especially in the morning (we have an evening service that I currently work childcare for, but I fired myself today so I can get back into worship).
Now- we as church goers/leaders are constantly wondering why people don't commit to come to church. It's Sunday morning- one hour (two if you're really good)- and that's it! Doesn't God deserve that much? When put in those terms, yea, sure- the guilt piles on. However, I witnessed a couple of things Sunday that softened my heart and caused me to think about how we as a church can be reaching out.
Event #1: I dropped my son off at Sunday School (wearing jeans and leaving the baby home, asleep, in the crib- the monitor would almost stretch we're that close). A little boy that my son adores was also being dropped off by his parents, but he was having a hard time letting go of Mommy. (Meanwhile Hunter has completely ditched me for the cars and his crying friend.) I know this family and it hit me- these parents work 5 days a week in the city, with their long commute, they probably get a precious 2 hours with their kids at night each day. Weekends are sacred family time. They live about 15 minutes away. So I thought about it. Most likely the kids got up, they began the process of getting ready (2 kids, 2 adults) and then they have to defrost the car, jump in and drive to the church by 9:20 so they have time to drop off kids and get to church. From potty, showering, dressing, breakfast to the drive- this is easily a 1.5 hour endeavor. They get to church- Mom who would rather stay at home with her kids but can't afford not to work- must suffer the guilt and emotional strain of leaving her sad 3 year old with other people, again. Dad drops older daughter off at Sunday School, maybe thinking that he hasn't had a real conversation with her yet that day. Mom and Dad go to church, hoping to be inspired, enlivened, or at least engaged. They also hope that their kids are enjoying themselves and learning something. This family has actually sacrificed a lot more than I realized, just to be at church for an hour. A worthy sacrifice, yes, and of course no one said that faith was easy or being a part of a community could be done by staying at home. I get all that- but- I kept thinking about that Mom and how I would have been thinking- why the hell am I doing this?! Especially folks who are kind of "trying" the whole church thing out. If that church is not a loving, grace-filled and spirit-filled place- it's really not worth their effort.
Event #2: I read a post on facebook about a family enjoying their lazy morning with their 3 kids. The husband and wife were enjoying some quality time while the children played in the other room. I can't judge them. I was jealous.
SO- here in Northern Virginia when the parents are working so hard they hardly see their kids- if we want to have young families come to church- we better make it worth the trip. How do you balance the reality of families that hardly see one another and the reality that church is a commitment, a bit of a sacrifice? I understand the concept of costly discipleship. I think it's more about standing up for what's right, being willing to put energy into doing good things. Church is really the foundation from which we are to go out and do the costly stuff. Church is the sanctuary. It is the resting place, the gathering, the reservoir, the filling station, the place to be with other people who are on the same road as you are and share the journey - lifting each other up and encouraging one another and learning from one another. If we want people to do the costly discipleship Jesus calls for, we better have some cups of cold water ready for the race. If we want people to turn down a lazy Sunday morning with their family- a sacred time of filling- then we better be very intentional that the church is doing what it should be doing- and surround this struggling family with love and a collective will to do God's work in the world.
Am I making sense? What do you think? Is church "worth" it these days? Do we need to rethink what we're trying to do? If you're not a church-goer - what would compel you to attend church? Why would you come back?
Saturday, October 22, 2011
On Needing a Villain
I had an epiphany this morning, let's see if I can play it out in words well. We bent the rules for Hunter and allowed a little movie watching so I could make my grocery list and Jason could make a trip to the guitar store. He watched some weird cars knock-off episode and then I allowed him to choose one more video. He chose the movie version of the story "The Little Engine that Could." We started awkwardly in the middle of it because he had tried to watch it before. Hunter didn't seem to mind. The animated movie shows the character that is obviously the little engine that could and the toys that want to be delivered to the boys and girls over the mountain. Then comes a big old iron engine. I'm thinking- ok- this is the old engine that is too tired to help the engine (later I realized this interaction must have already happened since the engine that Could is already on board). The big iron engine is not the old man. It is a giant, creepy, red-eyed villain with iron grates for a scary mouth. He is bullying the little engine and stealing the boy (added character) and toys and running away- not without first violently pushing the little engine off the tracks.
I'm thinking... WTF? This is the weirdest rendition of this story that I have seen! (A little akin to the Polar Express movie- a LOT of random, creepy images that are added to make a movie out of a 12 page book with mostly pictures.) I continue to watch over my shoulder, forgetting my grocery list. The scenery, characters and story line all are dark and dreary and getting more dramatic and desperate as time goes on. So I am wondering if I should choose some other video for Hunter to watch. Keep in mind that Hunter is 3 years old, and while I am not a developmental or psychological expert- I do know the simple fact that this age sees an increase in real or imagined fears. Many are irrational and 3 year olds are not quite at the point where you can explain something to them with reason for them to change their mind. Waking up a 3am with a nightmare is not uncommon for this age group. Hunter does not seem to be too phased by the scary villain, so I let it go. But I think about it.
I casually post on Facebook about it, writing: "What is up with making nice, normal stories into scary, creepy, dramatic movies? Hunter is watching an extended rendition of the little engine that could- complete with a big, scary, villainous train." I expected responses from parents in agreement. I did not get that. The responses were appropriate and thoughtful, saying essentially that having a villain was in fact probably more realistic to life and could be a positive venue for our children to learn about how to deal with evil and "villains" in the real world. Here is the direct quote from Kate Meacham: "OK - I have a theory on this. I think that we like to forget the villains and pretend that everything can be all kumbayah. BUT - the thieves in the bushes are an important part of so many stories - and as adults, I know that I am continually disappointed when I discover mal-intentions. BUT if we'd just remembered and realized that the villains are part of our world, and we need to anticipate their presence - we wouldn't be so disappointed. . . all this is to say - maybe it plays a role in real life awareness?" To some extent I agreed with my two friends, but something in me was still concerned. It challenged me to think deeper into what was really bothering me about the responses and even more so- the movie. The two responses I received were from two friends who I would say are at opposite ends of the theological spectrum. I think this is helpful to keep in mind because this is not a polarized thought from one theological paradigm. I started verbalizing my thoughts to Jason when it hit me... The idea that we need a villain to understand evil is, to me, misdirection.
I think most people who understand the realities of the world would probably agree to some extent with my friends, as I did. However, and I hope to bring a new idea to the table, I have misgivings about this approach.
I may be reading too much into what my friends said, but I think more generally the idea is that villains in stories are appropriate tools for communicating the presence of evil in the world. I agree that they are convenient tools. However, if we unpack this a little bit, I think we might be making a mistake to emphasize the villain as the obvious and true choice to recognize and fight evil. I think personifying evil in the real world is often what gets us in trouble, in hatred, and in powerlessness. We demonize a people-group, a person, or even an idea or moral standard (and the one who believes it believes in evil). We label the evil and then it becomes bigger and scarier than we know how to handle, so the Evil wins at our timidity. Sometimes we need a villain so we can be the victim. We need a villain so that someone or something is to blame.
In these kids movies there is increasing drama, and seemingly insurmountable obstacles. There are creepy, evil villains that personally hound the "hero" of the story. That hero often (in kids movies) saves the day with help from friends. I do think that these can be very positive life lessons. However, in the real world- does this happen this way? Is evil in the form of one person or thing that makes it a personal goal to hound us? Are we traveling up the hill only to find that we are out of gas and then suddenly the sun is blacked out and it starts pouring down with snow? Maybe some days we FEEL like that (maybe because we interpret it that way). Honestly, most of the time evil in my world starts with me. It starts with my attitude. It starts with my unwillingness to do something, to stand up for something. I most often experience evil as the ABSENCE of good being done, rather than the ACT of evil being forged. And how do we fight inaction? We often don't- because we don't readily recognize it.
Don't misunderstand me. There ARE evil-acting people and ideas and forces in this world. Whether you believe in a personified devil or not, evil is actively happening everywhere in the world. We don't have to have a red critter with horns to believe that. We can blame it on the devil, we can blame it on God. Or we can start doing something. A person of faith has the reassurance and hope that God is with them. A person without faith can still fight- they just might grow weary. However- the power of evil lies not in the power of the evil one, but the powerlessness in those who choose not to fight it. Evil is a vacuum, Good is a force.
Take the original story of the little engine that could. It depicts a broken down train who is trying to make its way over the mountain to deliver food and toys to the village. The toys cry out for help. An old train stops to speak with the toys and apologizes for being too old and tired and unable to help. A shiny new train stops and snobbily turns its nose at the train and refuses to help as it is beneath him to pull such a train. Finally, a little engine comes and admits weakness, but offers to try. The engine tries and repeats positive, hopeful determination to itself...I think I can, I think I can. When the train succeeds, it provides its own affirmation...I thought I could, I thought I could! The food and toys are delivered and the children are happy. There is no specific villain- the snobby train could be one, but it doesn't get much mention. The ones who wouldn't or couldn't are not dwelled on. The true victory is that the little engine thought it could, tried, and succeeded. This is a much more useful lesson to my life. I could learn a lot more from not dwelling on what went wrong and what didn't happen my way. I could learn a lot from the lesson of trying with hopeful determination. These are not pollyanna lessons, they are hard. At least they are hard for me.
When I see stories of overwhelming triumphs over overwhelming evil- I often think- I would've given up 8 scenes ago. It is out of reach and inconceivable. I know that these stories have real parallels in the real world, but most of them are dramatized beyond reality. Adult movies and shows are not very different from kids' are they? Startling evil villains, mind-boggling obstacles, super-heroics are required to be victorious. Maybe that is why we are so obsessed with supers these days. We've made our villains too big- we can't handle them. We are frozen in apathy and need someone bigger to take care of it.
I think this is a part of why Occupy Wall Street is so compelling to me. Sure, many of those folks have some personified demons to point out- but as a whole- it's a large group of people who are tired of doing nothing. They don't have demands because they haven't agreed on a villain. I kind of hope they don't ever agree on one. I like that it is a rising of people who want to do something different and offer a different point of view, a different opinion.
So to take this more specifically to my faith... Jesus was a big story-teller. He had his way of making himself understood - although at times it seemed more confusing. His wisdom in sharing parables and stories rather than theological treatises and dogma becomes more and more apparent to me. I wonder (and I really am thinking about this- please offer your thoughts)- are there many villains in Jesus' stories? The ones that come to mind lack a true villain... instead are stories of action and inaction, perception of justice and descriptions of The Kingdom. This is interesting to me.
Do we really exist in a world of obvious villains who are after us in as many crafty ways as they can muster? Or are our true villains the voices inside that say "don't do anything," "wait," "it's more than you should do," "it's not your problem," "THEY are evil, you are right," "YOU deserve this, THEY don't." I believe that life offers us many more opportunities to be heroes than we can imagine. The "villains" we encounter on a daily basis are really at a basic level people who think only of themselves. The "super-villains" have been unchecked for far too long. We can be heroes simply by doing something for someone else.
I don't need a villain, I need a will to do good. I'm reminded of one of my favorite gospel songs:
I'm gonna live so
God can use me
Anywhere Lord, Anytime
I'm gonna pray so
God can use me
Anywhere Lord, Anytime
I'm gonna sing so
God can use me
Anywhere Lord, Anytime
I'm gonna work so
God can use me
Anywhere Lord, Anytime
Amen.
I'm thinking... WTF? This is the weirdest rendition of this story that I have seen! (A little akin to the Polar Express movie- a LOT of random, creepy images that are added to make a movie out of a 12 page book with mostly pictures.) I continue to watch over my shoulder, forgetting my grocery list. The scenery, characters and story line all are dark and dreary and getting more dramatic and desperate as time goes on. So I am wondering if I should choose some other video for Hunter to watch. Keep in mind that Hunter is 3 years old, and while I am not a developmental or psychological expert- I do know the simple fact that this age sees an increase in real or imagined fears. Many are irrational and 3 year olds are not quite at the point where you can explain something to them with reason for them to change their mind. Waking up a 3am with a nightmare is not uncommon for this age group. Hunter does not seem to be too phased by the scary villain, so I let it go. But I think about it.
I casually post on Facebook about it, writing: "What is up with making nice, normal stories into scary, creepy, dramatic movies? Hunter is watching an extended rendition of the little engine that could- complete with a big, scary, villainous train." I expected responses from parents in agreement. I did not get that. The responses were appropriate and thoughtful, saying essentially that having a villain was in fact probably more realistic to life and could be a positive venue for our children to learn about how to deal with evil and "villains" in the real world. Here is the direct quote from Kate Meacham: "OK - I have a theory on this. I think that we like to forget the villains and pretend that everything can be all kumbayah. BUT - the thieves in the bushes are an important part of so many stories - and as adults, I know that I am continually disappointed when I discover mal-intentions. BUT if we'd just remembered and realized that the villains are part of our world, and we need to anticipate their presence - we wouldn't be so disappointed. . . all this is to say - maybe it plays a role in real life awareness?" To some extent I agreed with my two friends, but something in me was still concerned. It challenged me to think deeper into what was really bothering me about the responses and even more so- the movie. The two responses I received were from two friends who I would say are at opposite ends of the theological spectrum. I think this is helpful to keep in mind because this is not a polarized thought from one theological paradigm. I started verbalizing my thoughts to Jason when it hit me... The idea that we need a villain to understand evil is, to me, misdirection.
I think most people who understand the realities of the world would probably agree to some extent with my friends, as I did. However, and I hope to bring a new idea to the table, I have misgivings about this approach.
I may be reading too much into what my friends said, but I think more generally the idea is that villains in stories are appropriate tools for communicating the presence of evil in the world. I agree that they are convenient tools. However, if we unpack this a little bit, I think we might be making a mistake to emphasize the villain as the obvious and true choice to recognize and fight evil. I think personifying evil in the real world is often what gets us in trouble, in hatred, and in powerlessness. We demonize a people-group, a person, or even an idea or moral standard (and the one who believes it believes in evil). We label the evil and then it becomes bigger and scarier than we know how to handle, so the Evil wins at our timidity. Sometimes we need a villain so we can be the victim. We need a villain so that someone or something is to blame.
In these kids movies there is increasing drama, and seemingly insurmountable obstacles. There are creepy, evil villains that personally hound the "hero" of the story. That hero often (in kids movies) saves the day with help from friends. I do think that these can be very positive life lessons. However, in the real world- does this happen this way? Is evil in the form of one person or thing that makes it a personal goal to hound us? Are we traveling up the hill only to find that we are out of gas and then suddenly the sun is blacked out and it starts pouring down with snow? Maybe some days we FEEL like that (maybe because we interpret it that way). Honestly, most of the time evil in my world starts with me. It starts with my attitude. It starts with my unwillingness to do something, to stand up for something. I most often experience evil as the ABSENCE of good being done, rather than the ACT of evil being forged. And how do we fight inaction? We often don't- because we don't readily recognize it.
Don't misunderstand me. There ARE evil-acting people and ideas and forces in this world. Whether you believe in a personified devil or not, evil is actively happening everywhere in the world. We don't have to have a red critter with horns to believe that. We can blame it on the devil, we can blame it on God. Or we can start doing something. A person of faith has the reassurance and hope that God is with them. A person without faith can still fight- they just might grow weary. However- the power of evil lies not in the power of the evil one, but the powerlessness in those who choose not to fight it. Evil is a vacuum, Good is a force.
Take the original story of the little engine that could. It depicts a broken down train who is trying to make its way over the mountain to deliver food and toys to the village. The toys cry out for help. An old train stops to speak with the toys and apologizes for being too old and tired and unable to help. A shiny new train stops and snobbily turns its nose at the train and refuses to help as it is beneath him to pull such a train. Finally, a little engine comes and admits weakness, but offers to try. The engine tries and repeats positive, hopeful determination to itself...I think I can, I think I can. When the train succeeds, it provides its own affirmation...I thought I could, I thought I could! The food and toys are delivered and the children are happy. There is no specific villain- the snobby train could be one, but it doesn't get much mention. The ones who wouldn't or couldn't are not dwelled on. The true victory is that the little engine thought it could, tried, and succeeded. This is a much more useful lesson to my life. I could learn a lot more from not dwelling on what went wrong and what didn't happen my way. I could learn a lot from the lesson of trying with hopeful determination. These are not pollyanna lessons, they are hard. At least they are hard for me.
When I see stories of overwhelming triumphs over overwhelming evil- I often think- I would've given up 8 scenes ago. It is out of reach and inconceivable. I know that these stories have real parallels in the real world, but most of them are dramatized beyond reality. Adult movies and shows are not very different from kids' are they? Startling evil villains, mind-boggling obstacles, super-heroics are required to be victorious. Maybe that is why we are so obsessed with supers these days. We've made our villains too big- we can't handle them. We are frozen in apathy and need someone bigger to take care of it.
I think this is a part of why Occupy Wall Street is so compelling to me. Sure, many of those folks have some personified demons to point out- but as a whole- it's a large group of people who are tired of doing nothing. They don't have demands because they haven't agreed on a villain. I kind of hope they don't ever agree on one. I like that it is a rising of people who want to do something different and offer a different point of view, a different opinion.
So to take this more specifically to my faith... Jesus was a big story-teller. He had his way of making himself understood - although at times it seemed more confusing. His wisdom in sharing parables and stories rather than theological treatises and dogma becomes more and more apparent to me. I wonder (and I really am thinking about this- please offer your thoughts)- are there many villains in Jesus' stories? The ones that come to mind lack a true villain... instead are stories of action and inaction, perception of justice and descriptions of The Kingdom. This is interesting to me.
Do we really exist in a world of obvious villains who are after us in as many crafty ways as they can muster? Or are our true villains the voices inside that say "don't do anything," "wait," "it's more than you should do," "it's not your problem," "THEY are evil, you are right," "YOU deserve this, THEY don't." I believe that life offers us many more opportunities to be heroes than we can imagine. The "villains" we encounter on a daily basis are really at a basic level people who think only of themselves. The "super-villains" have been unchecked for far too long. We can be heroes simply by doing something for someone else.
I don't need a villain, I need a will to do good. I'm reminded of one of my favorite gospel songs:
I'm gonna live so
God can use me
Anywhere Lord, Anytime
I'm gonna pray so
God can use me
Anywhere Lord, Anytime
I'm gonna sing so
God can use me
Anywhere Lord, Anytime
I'm gonna work so
God can use me
Anywhere Lord, Anytime
Amen.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Feminism and pettiness and confession
I have a confession to make. I spent a solid hour (give or take) making fun of and/or ridiculing the dresses of the latest local homecoming dance. That wasn't nice. Let me explain. I was the youth director at my husband's church a little while ago and am friends with several of the "kids" on facebook. Some photo albums tagging some of our youth came up and to say it bluntly- I was shocked like a 50s housewife looking at porn. I mean- wow. I will add a disclaimer that "my" girls were for the most part tastefully dressed (some in dresses that were too short for my taste, but I hate my knees- so that's a bit harsh).
What the hell are people letting their daughters wear? Wait- let me be even more cliche- WHY did they let her go out dressed like that? Apparently the new style is skin-tight, SHORT, and let's make it strapless too. Because I want to see BOTH ends fall out. Really?! I know, I just turned thirty, maybe I'm showing my age. But I PROMISE you that if some of these girls even so much attempted to pick up a penny or stretch- their world was going to be visible.
On a more serious note- this is bad. Really bad. Worse than I thought. These girls were not only dressed as 25 year olds, they were dressed as 25 year old prostitutes. And I'm not kidding or exaggerating. What concerns me is that it wasn't a few girls who were able to slip past Mom and Dad (or had oblivious guardians who thought this was appropriate)- this wasn't even THAT girl who was just too oblivious to realize that Paris Hilton doesn't translate. No- the MAJORITY were dressed like this. Even the ones with more modest tops (a sleeve, for example)- still had the super short dress going on. This concerns me for the women who thought their daughter should or could wear these dresses. It concerns me for the girls who wanted to. And it concerns me for the poor ones who refused to because you just KNOW they aren't cool. There was such an overwhelming majority of these dresses that it seemed oppressive for any girl to make a stand against it. Some kids made their way around it- and I applaud them. One of the girls I knew wore a dress that was similarly styled but a good 3 inches longer than most- not noticeably long- but hey- it covered her butt.
I was talking to a Mom of one of these girls whose daughter was beautifully and not prostitutely dressed- and she talked about how it was almost impossible to find clothing that wasn't like this for her daughter. If her daughter wants to wear shorts- her options are capris, bermuda pants or up-your-butt shorts. What is wrong with this picture?
Ultimately women are still not doing well in terms of general equality and respect. (Obviously) The boys- what were they wearing? Coat and tie. I thanked God I had boys and then promised God I would teach them to respect women.
How do you teach boys to respect women? I have the love and respect of my husband and I don't dress like a tramp- that's a start. But there will be girls who do dress and act his way- and many of them will do it because they have been taught from day one that to be attractive is A #1 how to be loved. I read an article recently that highlighted how we innocently start this teaching to the littlest one. You see a little girl and what do you say? Oh, how beautiful you are in your little dress! A boy we may call handsome, or we call them big and boyish.
God, give us grace, give us wisdom, guide us and help us. And please don't let my sons date girls who dress like prostitutes. Because then I'm going to have to give that girl a lecture. Amen.
What the hell are people letting their daughters wear? Wait- let me be even more cliche- WHY did they let her go out dressed like that? Apparently the new style is skin-tight, SHORT, and let's make it strapless too. Because I want to see BOTH ends fall out. Really?! I know, I just turned thirty, maybe I'm showing my age. But I PROMISE you that if some of these girls even so much attempted to pick up a penny or stretch- their world was going to be visible.
On a more serious note- this is bad. Really bad. Worse than I thought. These girls were not only dressed as 25 year olds, they were dressed as 25 year old prostitutes. And I'm not kidding or exaggerating. What concerns me is that it wasn't a few girls who were able to slip past Mom and Dad (or had oblivious guardians who thought this was appropriate)- this wasn't even THAT girl who was just too oblivious to realize that Paris Hilton doesn't translate. No- the MAJORITY were dressed like this. Even the ones with more modest tops (a sleeve, for example)- still had the super short dress going on. This concerns me for the women who thought their daughter should or could wear these dresses. It concerns me for the girls who wanted to. And it concerns me for the poor ones who refused to because you just KNOW they aren't cool. There was such an overwhelming majority of these dresses that it seemed oppressive for any girl to make a stand against it. Some kids made their way around it- and I applaud them. One of the girls I knew wore a dress that was similarly styled but a good 3 inches longer than most- not noticeably long- but hey- it covered her butt.
I was talking to a Mom of one of these girls whose daughter was beautifully and not prostitutely dressed- and she talked about how it was almost impossible to find clothing that wasn't like this for her daughter. If her daughter wants to wear shorts- her options are capris, bermuda pants or up-your-butt shorts. What is wrong with this picture?
Ultimately women are still not doing well in terms of general equality and respect. (Obviously) The boys- what were they wearing? Coat and tie. I thanked God I had boys and then promised God I would teach them to respect women.
How do you teach boys to respect women? I have the love and respect of my husband and I don't dress like a tramp- that's a start. But there will be girls who do dress and act his way- and many of them will do it because they have been taught from day one that to be attractive is A #1 how to be loved. I read an article recently that highlighted how we innocently start this teaching to the littlest one. You see a little girl and what do you say? Oh, how beautiful you are in your little dress! A boy we may call handsome, or we call them big and boyish.
God, give us grace, give us wisdom, guide us and help us. And please don't let my sons date girls who dress like prostitutes. Because then I'm going to have to give that girl a lecture. Amen.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
I did it again
I threw Christians under the bus. In an OB appointment, no less. I had my yearly "ain't it great to be a woman" exam and was chatting with my new doctor (new partner in the practice) who is a man and fabulously gay. Well- he didn't say he was- but I would bet a lot of money on it, and I'm not a betting gal. The point is, here is a person who is most likely ostracized by the "Church." He's a highly intelligent surgeon/Dr who is gay. It is almost without question that this man has felt some demonization from some branches of the church. I am in perfect position to be a witness for a loving God.
Here's what I do instead: Dr. comments on my chick fil a coffee mug- surprised to learn that they serve breakfast. I shamefully admit that they do, and a wonderful one at that- but that I feel guilty taking advantage of it as I should be boycotting them. He asks why and I explain that among other political contributions that I disagree with, they are financial supporters of anti-gay rights groups and politics. Dr is devastated and agrees with my conundrum- wonderful service and yummy chicken- bad politics (in our opinion). Of course Chick fil a is more than justified in funding and donating to whom they deem worthy, I just have an obligation of conscience to be aware of where my money goes to support. My breakfast is a drop in the bucket of their larger budget, but that justification should only work a few times. So the doc and I are having a very light-hearted conversation about that and other things... Before the doctor leaves the room, he says: "I want to say you have been my favorite patient today, except you burst my bubble on that chick fil a thing! I should have known something was up with the whole "closed on Sunday" bit."
Large gaping open wide doorway for positive witness.
I say.... N O T H I N G. I even smile, as if to agree.
Son of a bitch, Sarah- you love Sunday! You love Sabbath! You think it's cool that they close on Sunday and still manage to reap a giant, fat profit in the face of an economy that believes you may never close your door or you will lose your money. To some extent- this practice is what drew me to the company to begin with! And what do I do? ABsolutely nothing. My silence alludes that I agree with the doctor's unfortunate assumption (and who can blame him when no other voices speak) that all Christians hate gay people. People really believe that!
One of the comments from my other post was from a friend of mine in seminary, Chris. He suggested (lightheartedly, although I think we both agree there is some realness to the suggestion)- that we begin a movement within Christianity to go along with the 99% mantra of Occupy Wall Street. We are the 99% of Christians who love people and don't think it's cool to shun or dehumanize those who are not like us. I don't believe 99% would be accurate, but if you think of all the people out there who consider themselves spiritual or connected or even marginally believe in the God of Abraham and Jacob- I bet you could find a decent amount who would be on board. I wonder how many? Is there a silent majority here? Are there folks who have been alienated from the "Church" who might be able to get on board with a movement led by the vision of Jesus? I'm not just talking about the hot topics like homosexuality. Maybe we could be like that protest in DC a few years back - the "Unprotest" led by Steve Colbert and Jon Stewart. We as Christians are tired of being labeled and witnessed as the haters of the poor, the stranger, the widow, the broken, the outcast. We are tired of the hot topics getting in the way of what matters. Why are we going in theological circles about whether gay people are sinners or not when it is never (and has never) been our job to judge? Shouldn't we be loving and welcoming? Jesus hung out with prostitutes and tax collectors. Really. Why have we lost our focus?
I for one am sick of it. And obviously- it's my own damn fault. I'm challenging myself to represent. Witness- use that wonderful word that now sounds like an insult or weapon to the ears of people who have been oppressed by a "witness." I'm going to be a witness of God's love. Even if it gets me in trouble with the loud people who disagree. I'm going to stop being quiet about the important stuff. I am going to represent the 64.8% or whatever of the Christians in this world who love Jesus and just want to help bring heaven to earth- loving and praying their way.
Here's what I do instead: Dr. comments on my chick fil a coffee mug- surprised to learn that they serve breakfast. I shamefully admit that they do, and a wonderful one at that- but that I feel guilty taking advantage of it as I should be boycotting them. He asks why and I explain that among other political contributions that I disagree with, they are financial supporters of anti-gay rights groups and politics. Dr is devastated and agrees with my conundrum- wonderful service and yummy chicken- bad politics (in our opinion). Of course Chick fil a is more than justified in funding and donating to whom they deem worthy, I just have an obligation of conscience to be aware of where my money goes to support. My breakfast is a drop in the bucket of their larger budget, but that justification should only work a few times. So the doc and I are having a very light-hearted conversation about that and other things... Before the doctor leaves the room, he says: "I want to say you have been my favorite patient today, except you burst my bubble on that chick fil a thing! I should have known something was up with the whole "closed on Sunday" bit."
Large gaping open wide doorway for positive witness.
I say.... N O T H I N G. I even smile, as if to agree.
Son of a bitch, Sarah- you love Sunday! You love Sabbath! You think it's cool that they close on Sunday and still manage to reap a giant, fat profit in the face of an economy that believes you may never close your door or you will lose your money. To some extent- this practice is what drew me to the company to begin with! And what do I do? ABsolutely nothing. My silence alludes that I agree with the doctor's unfortunate assumption (and who can blame him when no other voices speak) that all Christians hate gay people. People really believe that!
One of the comments from my other post was from a friend of mine in seminary, Chris. He suggested (lightheartedly, although I think we both agree there is some realness to the suggestion)- that we begin a movement within Christianity to go along with the 99% mantra of Occupy Wall Street. We are the 99% of Christians who love people and don't think it's cool to shun or dehumanize those who are not like us. I don't believe 99% would be accurate, but if you think of all the people out there who consider themselves spiritual or connected or even marginally believe in the God of Abraham and Jacob- I bet you could find a decent amount who would be on board. I wonder how many? Is there a silent majority here? Are there folks who have been alienated from the "Church" who might be able to get on board with a movement led by the vision of Jesus? I'm not just talking about the hot topics like homosexuality. Maybe we could be like that protest in DC a few years back - the "Unprotest" led by Steve Colbert and Jon Stewart. We as Christians are tired of being labeled and witnessed as the haters of the poor, the stranger, the widow, the broken, the outcast. We are tired of the hot topics getting in the way of what matters. Why are we going in theological circles about whether gay people are sinners or not when it is never (and has never) been our job to judge? Shouldn't we be loving and welcoming? Jesus hung out with prostitutes and tax collectors. Really. Why have we lost our focus?
I for one am sick of it. And obviously- it's my own damn fault. I'm challenging myself to represent. Witness- use that wonderful word that now sounds like an insult or weapon to the ears of people who have been oppressed by a "witness." I'm going to be a witness of God's love. Even if it gets me in trouble with the loud people who disagree. I'm going to stop being quiet about the important stuff. I am going to represent the 64.8% or whatever of the Christians in this world who love Jesus and just want to help bring heaven to earth- loving and praying their way.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Candle, Wine, Write
This is my recipe for relaxing. The wine keeps me from thinking about the dirty fill-in-the-blank, the candle transports me to a different place and the writing- it's my only outlet. I don't know what I plan to write today. I usually have a topic that is nagging. Tonight I just want to feel my fingertips moving across the keyboard. I want to do something that is not truly productive and wholly for me.
Lately I've been feeling a bit ... escapist. It may have been the solid week of rain (and today's all day rain affair after a few days of legit fall weather). It may have been the fact that my Mom was in town and as she puts it- was the "laundry fairy" and then she left town... It's hard to have your laundry fairy and adult company leave. It could be Hunter's new shiny (with fake tears) whiny personality that I am praying is a short-lived phase. My tolerance level has decreased to negative 1200. It could be that I'm becoming more politically and socially and globally aware- and it makes my heart hurt to see things that I was ignorant to before. Knowledge is supposed to be power- but I feel so powerless when confronted with the enormity of ... ugly.... that is out there.
There was an article on the protestors on Wall Street (which has and is spreading) that focused on a group of Christian leaders (seminarians, clergy, etc). This group of folks had gathered to provide a spiritual ground and focus for anyone who wanted to participate in integrating their faith with their fight. They were called chaplains of the protestors. Some of the comments made me really sad- one in particular was disappointing to put it lightly. The response these "chaplains" got from the crowd was one of surprise and specifically one protestor noted that they had never met a Christian protestor in the same kind of protest. I'm guessing they meant any protest that wasn't centered around highly charged religious debate (abortion, homosexuality, etc). That to me is S.A.D. sad. Are you a Christian? Are you a progressive Christian? Why do we let the loudest and most misogynistic and hating voices be heard as the voice of Christianity? I wonder if "Christian" has gotten such a bad name, we're actually present at these protests, but in disguise as a "normal person." I wonder if I've done this myself, dimming the light on my faith when it comes to the reasons why I stand for something. Actually what I usually find myself saying is: "I'm not like your typical Christian- I believe ..... you know- we should feed the poor." Way to throw the title "christian" under the bus, Sarah. But I think I'm actually afraid of other Christians more than those with no nominal faith. Even on Facebook- I hesitate to put certain things, basically because I just don't want to deal with the backlash of the Christian comments (see- I did it again).
I need to stand up for my faith. I need to put God's person with the truths I feel called to uphold. I need to keep myself open to hearing God's calling. I need not to hide my faith under a bushel or put out the light. It is DARK out there- and this world needs light. I need to quit hiding mine. So- I will proclaim the GOOD news and claim Christian and give Jesus some legs to walk on in this world who sees him as either a smiter with no sense of humor or a hippy with no sense.
Lately I've been feeling a bit ... escapist. It may have been the solid week of rain (and today's all day rain affair after a few days of legit fall weather). It may have been the fact that my Mom was in town and as she puts it- was the "laundry fairy" and then she left town... It's hard to have your laundry fairy and adult company leave. It could be Hunter's new shiny (with fake tears) whiny personality that I am praying is a short-lived phase. My tolerance level has decreased to negative 1200. It could be that I'm becoming more politically and socially and globally aware- and it makes my heart hurt to see things that I was ignorant to before. Knowledge is supposed to be power- but I feel so powerless when confronted with the enormity of ... ugly.... that is out there.
There was an article on the protestors on Wall Street (which has and is spreading) that focused on a group of Christian leaders (seminarians, clergy, etc). This group of folks had gathered to provide a spiritual ground and focus for anyone who wanted to participate in integrating their faith with their fight. They were called chaplains of the protestors. Some of the comments made me really sad- one in particular was disappointing to put it lightly. The response these "chaplains" got from the crowd was one of surprise and specifically one protestor noted that they had never met a Christian protestor in the same kind of protest. I'm guessing they meant any protest that wasn't centered around highly charged religious debate (abortion, homosexuality, etc). That to me is S.A.D. sad. Are you a Christian? Are you a progressive Christian? Why do we let the loudest and most misogynistic and hating voices be heard as the voice of Christianity? I wonder if "Christian" has gotten such a bad name, we're actually present at these protests, but in disguise as a "normal person." I wonder if I've done this myself, dimming the light on my faith when it comes to the reasons why I stand for something. Actually what I usually find myself saying is: "I'm not like your typical Christian- I believe ..... you know- we should feed the poor." Way to throw the title "christian" under the bus, Sarah. But I think I'm actually afraid of other Christians more than those with no nominal faith. Even on Facebook- I hesitate to put certain things, basically because I just don't want to deal with the backlash of the Christian comments (see- I did it again).
I need to stand up for my faith. I need to put God's person with the truths I feel called to uphold. I need to keep myself open to hearing God's calling. I need not to hide my faith under a bushel or put out the light. It is DARK out there- and this world needs light. I need to quit hiding mine. So- I will proclaim the GOOD news and claim Christian and give Jesus some legs to walk on in this world who sees him as either a smiter with no sense of humor or a hippy with no sense.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Troy Davis Case
This has been one of those stories that keeps popping up in my face lately, and I kept pushing it aside because I was honestly a little bewildered at all the attention it was getting. Surely there are multiple people who get executed in cases that are a bit wishy-washy (and in light of this story's gained interest, more of those stories are coming out). Let's get the first thing out of the way: I don't think he should be executed. However, all the media attention and my reaction to it made me pause. Why was I so weird about it? I'm a peace-loving, people-redeeming kind of gal. What was my hesitance?
I think it is multi-faceted, but the bottom line is, I hadn't decided in my head and heart if I believed in capital punishment. I mean, really, why did I never process it out? Because I was never affected by it. Do YOU know anyone about to be put to death? I would guess for the majority it's no. So here is Troy's face staring at me from all the news articles and I realized I needed to have a little discussion with myself. It didn't take long for me to discover that as a human, as a Christian, as a logical thinker, I couldn't support capital punishment. I used two different angles to come to this conclusion. As a student of philosophy (yes- I got THAT *employable* degree)- I have learned that it is pretty difficult to find black and white. The justice system asks for a tall order when we only convict when sure beyond a reasonable doubt of guilt. When it comes to killing a person- I think the only doubt should be theories of unicorn intervention or alternate universes. So logically, it is nearly impossible (in my opinion) to be THAT sure. As a Christian and really as a human who cares, I believe killing is wrong. Period. It doesn't redeem things. It solves things sometimes, but I'm for redemption. That may seem naive, but I believe it is the way of the Kingdom of God. So logic won't ever hand us a clean black or white for the justice system to convict with intent to punish by death, and faith and common humanity does not allow me to take or condone taking the life of another.
I think the thing that stood in the way for me to make these moral judgments was that I was focused on whether Troy was indeed guilty or not. There is this looming shadow of doubt, for sure, but it's all a little fishy. Chances are the truth lies somewhere in the middle of total guilt and total innocence. When I stepped back from this dialogue of guilt I realized that it didn't matter if I thought he was all the way guilty or not. In terms of the legal system requiring that accused be guilty beyond reasonable doubt- it seems obvious that this is not the case for Troy Davis. However, I bet Troy did something wrong. I bet he did a lot of somethings wrong. This is most likely the stumbling block for those who favor his execution. That, and he's black. Very unfortunate for him.
This was the second sort of epiphany for me. Race issues keep popping up discreetly and not-so-discreetly. I firmly believe that being black was a hazard to this man's sentencing. I have to remind myself of the context of time and how very recent the civil rights movement began... and even how recent the emancipation of slaves began. This history is not so far away and to ignore the ramifications of that is to be .... um.... ignorant. I don't know what else can be said on this except to pray that God help us all. Redeem the minds warped by history that have flashes of violence and mistrust when they see someone of color walking along the street. Redeem our society that trains by expectations and poverty for those same people of color to be self-fulfilled prophecies. It is injustice compounded.
So, Troy Davis- I'm sorry. I'm sorry it took me so long to care about your case. I'm sorry that the justice system is flawed and that you happen to have the worse case scenario when it comes to being screwed by the system. And I pray for all of us that we may be continually redeemed by the God of grace, mercy, and love.
I think it is multi-faceted, but the bottom line is, I hadn't decided in my head and heart if I believed in capital punishment. I mean, really, why did I never process it out? Because I was never affected by it. Do YOU know anyone about to be put to death? I would guess for the majority it's no. So here is Troy's face staring at me from all the news articles and I realized I needed to have a little discussion with myself. It didn't take long for me to discover that as a human, as a Christian, as a logical thinker, I couldn't support capital punishment. I used two different angles to come to this conclusion. As a student of philosophy (yes- I got THAT *employable* degree)- I have learned that it is pretty difficult to find black and white. The justice system asks for a tall order when we only convict when sure beyond a reasonable doubt of guilt. When it comes to killing a person- I think the only doubt should be theories of unicorn intervention or alternate universes. So logically, it is nearly impossible (in my opinion) to be THAT sure. As a Christian and really as a human who cares, I believe killing is wrong. Period. It doesn't redeem things. It solves things sometimes, but I'm for redemption. That may seem naive, but I believe it is the way of the Kingdom of God. So logic won't ever hand us a clean black or white for the justice system to convict with intent to punish by death, and faith and common humanity does not allow me to take or condone taking the life of another.
I think the thing that stood in the way for me to make these moral judgments was that I was focused on whether Troy was indeed guilty or not. There is this looming shadow of doubt, for sure, but it's all a little fishy. Chances are the truth lies somewhere in the middle of total guilt and total innocence. When I stepped back from this dialogue of guilt I realized that it didn't matter if I thought he was all the way guilty or not. In terms of the legal system requiring that accused be guilty beyond reasonable doubt- it seems obvious that this is not the case for Troy Davis. However, I bet Troy did something wrong. I bet he did a lot of somethings wrong. This is most likely the stumbling block for those who favor his execution. That, and he's black. Very unfortunate for him.
This was the second sort of epiphany for me. Race issues keep popping up discreetly and not-so-discreetly. I firmly believe that being black was a hazard to this man's sentencing. I have to remind myself of the context of time and how very recent the civil rights movement began... and even how recent the emancipation of slaves began. This history is not so far away and to ignore the ramifications of that is to be .... um.... ignorant. I don't know what else can be said on this except to pray that God help us all. Redeem the minds warped by history that have flashes of violence and mistrust when they see someone of color walking along the street. Redeem our society that trains by expectations and poverty for those same people of color to be self-fulfilled prophecies. It is injustice compounded.
So, Troy Davis- I'm sorry. I'm sorry it took me so long to care about your case. I'm sorry that the justice system is flawed and that you happen to have the worse case scenario when it comes to being screwed by the system. And I pray for all of us that we may be continually redeemed by the God of grace, mercy, and love.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Focused
This is hopefully going to be a short, focused post.
I was chatting with a preschool Mom the other day about the normal things that you would expect preschool Moms to chat about. We were cliche in every way (potty training, how awesome we think our kids are, etc). I felt a quick connection with this woman, she seemed to value and struggle with similar things. We talked about the female "have it all" myth- that you can have a career, children, social life, etc. You can have it all! No. No you can't. Something's going to give at various points and you have to learn to be a master juggler and either be the bearer of great guilt or an oblivious person. The part that made me feel better about someone else sharing this same struggle- was that this woman is bad-ass. I mean- she used to work in a prison, she now works in foreign politics and is no stranger to governments collapsing around her. SHE struggles, and she's freakin Jane Bond.
Something she said to me really stuck. She said that when she comes home from work she is laser focused on her kids. She- Jane Bond, would rather stay home with the kids. But as it is this world, not working is often not a viable option. So she is focused. I realized that as a stay-at-home Mom, because I am with my children all the time, I can fall into the trap of not focusing. If the kids are happy, who am I to intervene and try to do some fancy activity or play in their make-believe world? I will say that I am a big fan of relaxed parenting and self-awareness, so I'm not going to start doing arts and crafts with my kid unless it really makes sense. And independent play is good. But yesterday Hunter and I spent the entire day outside. Playing. Genuinely playing. I was focused on him. It was really great. Of course the weather is gorgeous, and that helps. I was exhausted at the end of the day- but this time from play and running around rather than emotional drainage from whining (don't get me wrong- whining occurred, but it's harder to whine when Mommy is rolling around in the grass with you). Graham gets my focus when I nurse him and Lord knows Hunter talks to him enough for him to feel super loved. I need to be even more intentional about those moments with him.
This is my job, I've claimed it, I'm down with it. I'm even doing play-dates for crying out loud. So my new friend has just provided some continuing education for me. Thanks to her. So here's to another focused, energy-sapping but connection-rich day.
I was chatting with a preschool Mom the other day about the normal things that you would expect preschool Moms to chat about. We were cliche in every way (potty training, how awesome we think our kids are, etc). I felt a quick connection with this woman, she seemed to value and struggle with similar things. We talked about the female "have it all" myth- that you can have a career, children, social life, etc. You can have it all! No. No you can't. Something's going to give at various points and you have to learn to be a master juggler and either be the bearer of great guilt or an oblivious person. The part that made me feel better about someone else sharing this same struggle- was that this woman is bad-ass. I mean- she used to work in a prison, she now works in foreign politics and is no stranger to governments collapsing around her. SHE struggles, and she's freakin Jane Bond.
Something she said to me really stuck. She said that when she comes home from work she is laser focused on her kids. She- Jane Bond, would rather stay home with the kids. But as it is this world, not working is often not a viable option. So she is focused. I realized that as a stay-at-home Mom, because I am with my children all the time, I can fall into the trap of not focusing. If the kids are happy, who am I to intervene and try to do some fancy activity or play in their make-believe world? I will say that I am a big fan of relaxed parenting and self-awareness, so I'm not going to start doing arts and crafts with my kid unless it really makes sense. And independent play is good. But yesterday Hunter and I spent the entire day outside. Playing. Genuinely playing. I was focused on him. It was really great. Of course the weather is gorgeous, and that helps. I was exhausted at the end of the day- but this time from play and running around rather than emotional drainage from whining (don't get me wrong- whining occurred, but it's harder to whine when Mommy is rolling around in the grass with you). Graham gets my focus when I nurse him and Lord knows Hunter talks to him enough for him to feel super loved. I need to be even more intentional about those moments with him.
This is my job, I've claimed it, I'm down with it. I'm even doing play-dates for crying out loud. So my new friend has just provided some continuing education for me. Thanks to her. So here's to another focused, energy-sapping but connection-rich day.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Love Thy Neighbor
Today is a pervasive date. September 11th. It is astonishing how a simple recitation of a date can elicit such strong emotions. I have purposely avoided watching the news, reading all the patriotic articles, and viewing the clips posted on facebook. Mainly because I kind of wanted to avoid the pervasiveness of this date. My stupid strategy for fighting all the strong emotions from this day was to avoid it. Generally that's a bad policy, but it works a little too well for me.
Yesterday I was with my in-laws and they had the news on (can't exactly tell your in-laws to turn off the news). I was struck with the images flashing in front of my eyes again. I made it a point not to dwell on the pictures of destruction soon after the attacks of 9/11. I think in terms of my soul, that was a good idea. Seeing the images again, it still felt like it did that day: surreal. I finally allowed myself to look at a link that depicted images of service dogs who were still alive today and had been part of the search and rescue team.
Then there are the posts on facebook, many patriotic, many honoring those who served on that day and in the military since then. None of this really resonates with me. Not because I don't remember and honor and bless all of those who serve and who have lost their lives- hear me- I do. What doesn't sit well is that this day of drastic human tragedy has resulted in a focus on patriotism and justification for war. I don't believe this to be the universal truth- but it certainly is a large part of how the world turned after this event.
What I have avoided exposing myself to the most are the personal stories of loss. Also the stories of hate. This is what really happened, this is what I remember. This is what hurts. I have an image in my head of a very attractive young woman on the TV screen with tears running down her face and holding a picture of her fiance in the vain hope that he was dazed and confused and waiting to be found. Everything about that image screamed hopes dashed. Dreams dismantled. Future halted. Humanity hating.
What happened after 9/11 was unsettling. Revenge. War. Hate. Stricter borders to keep *them* out. We became far less vulnerable and far more cynical. To most, this was the growing up that America needed to do- we had been ignorant and this was a wake up call that our neighbors hated us. We fought overseas, we fought political wars on our soil, we fought religious wars in the media and in schools and in every sacred place. It was a loss of innocence- but more akin to Adam and Eve eating from the tree of good and evil. We ran amok with our knowledge. We have not had the wisdom to handle it.
When this tragedy descends on me with all the unforgettable moments (as hard as I have tried to avoid the pain)... I recognize that the largest tragedy is that we all have still not learned the only thing Jesus really felt was necessary: Love thy neighbor, and love God. We see an act that loves an ideal at the sacrifice of the neighbor and shows hatred toward God, by invoking God's name in the act- it steps up to a level of blasphemy.... and how do we respond? Loving ourselves and hating their God.
We have stopped up our ears with vague patriotism and developed and infectious hatred for all those who do not look or act American. We have ignored the majority of muslims who live as peaceful and faithful followers of a God who is not historically very separate from the Christian God. In our fear, the loudest and seemingly most influential voices are telling us to hate our neighbor, at least deport them. Hate our neighbor that does not get married like we do. Hate our neighbor that does not worship like we do. Hate our neighbor that does not speak like we do. Hate our neighbor that does not dress like we do.
I'm afraid to post this because I assume it will not go over easy. I am speaking for love. I am trying to be a faithful disciple of Christ. I want evil to lose. Big time lose. We've been fighting evil with a fist, a knife, a gun, a bomb for years and years. I want to think that Jesus might have been trying to say something about a new way to fight. Martin Luther King, Jr caught on to this crazy Jesus idea and lead a revolution that succeeded and can continue to succeed if based on love and not hate.
Hear my heart: I want the kingdom of God to be present here, now. I want my sons to love their neighbors and love their God. I want my country to be leading the world in compassion, grace, and love- starting a revolution of a new kind of power. I know it isn't easy or manageable. You don't see me running for presidency. All I know is that I believe that Jesus was God with us- and I'm inclined to listen.
I remember the day that hate won a battle. I believe that love will win the war.
"You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: you shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets." Matthew 22:37-40
Yesterday I was with my in-laws and they had the news on (can't exactly tell your in-laws to turn off the news). I was struck with the images flashing in front of my eyes again. I made it a point not to dwell on the pictures of destruction soon after the attacks of 9/11. I think in terms of my soul, that was a good idea. Seeing the images again, it still felt like it did that day: surreal. I finally allowed myself to look at a link that depicted images of service dogs who were still alive today and had been part of the search and rescue team.
Then there are the posts on facebook, many patriotic, many honoring those who served on that day and in the military since then. None of this really resonates with me. Not because I don't remember and honor and bless all of those who serve and who have lost their lives- hear me- I do. What doesn't sit well is that this day of drastic human tragedy has resulted in a focus on patriotism and justification for war. I don't believe this to be the universal truth- but it certainly is a large part of how the world turned after this event.
What I have avoided exposing myself to the most are the personal stories of loss. Also the stories of hate. This is what really happened, this is what I remember. This is what hurts. I have an image in my head of a very attractive young woman on the TV screen with tears running down her face and holding a picture of her fiance in the vain hope that he was dazed and confused and waiting to be found. Everything about that image screamed hopes dashed. Dreams dismantled. Future halted. Humanity hating.
What happened after 9/11 was unsettling. Revenge. War. Hate. Stricter borders to keep *them* out. We became far less vulnerable and far more cynical. To most, this was the growing up that America needed to do- we had been ignorant and this was a wake up call that our neighbors hated us. We fought overseas, we fought political wars on our soil, we fought religious wars in the media and in schools and in every sacred place. It was a loss of innocence- but more akin to Adam and Eve eating from the tree of good and evil. We ran amok with our knowledge. We have not had the wisdom to handle it.
When this tragedy descends on me with all the unforgettable moments (as hard as I have tried to avoid the pain)... I recognize that the largest tragedy is that we all have still not learned the only thing Jesus really felt was necessary: Love thy neighbor, and love God. We see an act that loves an ideal at the sacrifice of the neighbor and shows hatred toward God, by invoking God's name in the act- it steps up to a level of blasphemy.... and how do we respond? Loving ourselves and hating their God.
We have stopped up our ears with vague patriotism and developed and infectious hatred for all those who do not look or act American. We have ignored the majority of muslims who live as peaceful and faithful followers of a God who is not historically very separate from the Christian God. In our fear, the loudest and seemingly most influential voices are telling us to hate our neighbor, at least deport them. Hate our neighbor that does not get married like we do. Hate our neighbor that does not worship like we do. Hate our neighbor that does not speak like we do. Hate our neighbor that does not dress like we do.
I'm afraid to post this because I assume it will not go over easy. I am speaking for love. I am trying to be a faithful disciple of Christ. I want evil to lose. Big time lose. We've been fighting evil with a fist, a knife, a gun, a bomb for years and years. I want to think that Jesus might have been trying to say something about a new way to fight. Martin Luther King, Jr caught on to this crazy Jesus idea and lead a revolution that succeeded and can continue to succeed if based on love and not hate.
Hear my heart: I want the kingdom of God to be present here, now. I want my sons to love their neighbors and love their God. I want my country to be leading the world in compassion, grace, and love- starting a revolution of a new kind of power. I know it isn't easy or manageable. You don't see me running for presidency. All I know is that I believe that Jesus was God with us- and I'm inclined to listen.
I remember the day that hate won a battle. I believe that love will win the war.
"You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: you shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets." Matthew 22:37-40
Monday, August 29, 2011
Life is Normal
I have thought many times of things to write in this black hole of a cyberspace corner. I have had emotions ranging from pure joy to total frustration- luckily not all the way down to the pits. I have read articles that made me think deep and intellectual thoughts. I have had mommy moments that begged to be recorded. But- life is normal, and write I did not. Right now I have one of those rare moments where the kids are sleeping, the husband isn't home and I fear breaking the silence- so I have nothing else to do but stalk facebook and finally, write.
I have so much to be grateful for. My attitude for once is improved. I feel genuinely grown... if that makes sense. This last year of growth from climbing out of depression, birthing a second child, completing a chaplain internship and dealing with some difficult situations- it has actually made me stronger. It is not always the case that I feel growth from hardship. Many folks out there are the type that can chant "no pain, no gain!" and other cliches like that.... I'm not one of those. Pain is very real and very heartbreaking to me. I usually deal with pain by denial, bittered acceptance, and flippancy. When I engage the pain I run the risk of depression and brokenness. In this past year I've done all this, but most importantly I ultimately and finally grabbed hold and lifted myself up and sat above the pain- exhausted, but triumphant and with a new view. This is a victory for me. It gives me a new way to deal with life's struggles and encourages me to trudge through when I get knocked by it again. I'm also learning to lean- most specifically on my husband- for help in the struggle... for a voice of reason and hope and encouragement that I can trust more than my own. I am deeply grateful for the person my husband is and the integrity he has. I genuinely think that he is the best person in the world. Seriously. It makes me wonder about people who do not have a confidant. I don't mean a spouse- although there is certainly a wealth to be had in that- but I mean the simple and yet profound gift of having another human being that you can be vulnerable with and lean on.
We had a joke in seminary that was more of a "truth" that we spouted to cover every question: "It's all about relationship." I still believe it today- and if I give myself time to think about it- I realize how incredibly sad and poor we as humans are now. How many healthy (or at least functionally working on healthy) relationships do we have? I often see married couples and how they interact (or don't) and wonder how a person can survive will no connection. I have perhaps a handful of people in my life that I would say I have a genuine relationship with. I consider that to be wealthy- but I'm greedy and I want more.
At the core of all that is evil and all that is good- I believe it might trace back to our need for relationship. When we are disconnected- things go awry, when we are connected- there is deep joy (and pain). Been thinking about that lately.
Other things I've been thinking about: how little I think. Ha. I bought a smart phone recently (the latest iphone) and I am in information overload! I was somewhat isolated and clueless as a stay-at-home mom with a husband in a local church and as a resident in a fairly wealthy area of town (yea for church-owned housing!). Now I can read an article that my exceedingly well-informed and intelligent friend shared on facebook. Yes- it's a joke that I'm getting my news from facebook, but the articles are authentic and from good and multiple sources. I've somehow landed on some mailing lists that have increased the news input into my tiny little smart-phone. I could be a technology antagonist and ban the influx, but I am hungry for it. I read an article a little while ago that actually challenged me to think in a different way. I cannot over-emphasize how rare and refreshing that was. To find articles that are well-written and well-sourced being placed neatly in my lap by smarter friends is a blessing that I choose to accept and appreciate. It is a little depressing to see the corruption in the world- but it is necessary for me to see it. How else can I throw punches at it?
All this is happening while I canter through my normal life: making my 4 month old laugh, potty training my almost 3 year old just in time for preschool, volunteering in the crib room, grocery shopping, making vegan meals, working out schedules and chores and discipline and then having space for connection.... because that is what it is all about.
I have so much to be grateful for. My attitude for once is improved. I feel genuinely grown... if that makes sense. This last year of growth from climbing out of depression, birthing a second child, completing a chaplain internship and dealing with some difficult situations- it has actually made me stronger. It is not always the case that I feel growth from hardship. Many folks out there are the type that can chant "no pain, no gain!" and other cliches like that.... I'm not one of those. Pain is very real and very heartbreaking to me. I usually deal with pain by denial, bittered acceptance, and flippancy. When I engage the pain I run the risk of depression and brokenness. In this past year I've done all this, but most importantly I ultimately and finally grabbed hold and lifted myself up and sat above the pain- exhausted, but triumphant and with a new view. This is a victory for me. It gives me a new way to deal with life's struggles and encourages me to trudge through when I get knocked by it again. I'm also learning to lean- most specifically on my husband- for help in the struggle... for a voice of reason and hope and encouragement that I can trust more than my own. I am deeply grateful for the person my husband is and the integrity he has. I genuinely think that he is the best person in the world. Seriously. It makes me wonder about people who do not have a confidant. I don't mean a spouse- although there is certainly a wealth to be had in that- but I mean the simple and yet profound gift of having another human being that you can be vulnerable with and lean on.
We had a joke in seminary that was more of a "truth" that we spouted to cover every question: "It's all about relationship." I still believe it today- and if I give myself time to think about it- I realize how incredibly sad and poor we as humans are now. How many healthy (or at least functionally working on healthy) relationships do we have? I often see married couples and how they interact (or don't) and wonder how a person can survive will no connection. I have perhaps a handful of people in my life that I would say I have a genuine relationship with. I consider that to be wealthy- but I'm greedy and I want more.
At the core of all that is evil and all that is good- I believe it might trace back to our need for relationship. When we are disconnected- things go awry, when we are connected- there is deep joy (and pain). Been thinking about that lately.
Other things I've been thinking about: how little I think. Ha. I bought a smart phone recently (the latest iphone) and I am in information overload! I was somewhat isolated and clueless as a stay-at-home mom with a husband in a local church and as a resident in a fairly wealthy area of town (yea for church-owned housing!). Now I can read an article that my exceedingly well-informed and intelligent friend shared on facebook. Yes- it's a joke that I'm getting my news from facebook, but the articles are authentic and from good and multiple sources. I've somehow landed on some mailing lists that have increased the news input into my tiny little smart-phone. I could be a technology antagonist and ban the influx, but I am hungry for it. I read an article a little while ago that actually challenged me to think in a different way. I cannot over-emphasize how rare and refreshing that was. To find articles that are well-written and well-sourced being placed neatly in my lap by smarter friends is a blessing that I choose to accept and appreciate. It is a little depressing to see the corruption in the world- but it is necessary for me to see it. How else can I throw punches at it?
All this is happening while I canter through my normal life: making my 4 month old laugh, potty training my almost 3 year old just in time for preschool, volunteering in the crib room, grocery shopping, making vegan meals, working out schedules and chores and discipline and then having space for connection.... because that is what it is all about.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Impromptu Sermon
So I agreed Monday to preach the evening service tonight - and here's the sermon! I'm hoping to get back to some blogging soon. : )
Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
16“But to what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to one another, 17‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn.’ 18For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon’;19the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.”
25At that time Jesus said, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; 26yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. 27All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him. 28“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 29Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find res t for your souls. 30For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
I am a facebook addict. I am. I admit it. I am weirdly intrigued by the minutia of people’s every day thoughts and documentation of life from status updates to pictures (I especially love the pictures). For those of you who aren’t obsessed with facebook- let me give you a brief tutorial on the lingo. Everyone has their own webpage that friends are invited to see and interact on. If I’m having a particularly rough morning- I can go on my facebook page and write something like: “Two temper tantrums, 1 diaper blowout and a skipped nap- gotta love parenthood.” That is what we call a status update or a post. Then my friends who read the post can write a response to that- we call those comments. People will also post links to other websites or articles that they find online. I am ashamed to admit that I learn most of my current events from my much smarter friends who post news stories on their facebook page. It’s a great social networking community with the ability to share pictures and updates on your life. A while ago one of my friends posted a link to a website that listed a series of what they called “annoying facebook one-uppers”- and the common culprit was of course some of the most annoying and obnoxious people in the world: parents. It was basically your general parental postings about temper tantrums, sleepless nights, etc- and the subsequent comments from other parents that recounted their experiences that were obviously so much harder and more traumatizing to deal with. Annoying one-uppers. The examples were like this one that is a real conversation from a friend’s page. (show write up) I understand comraderie- but most of these comments were really to turn the focus on the more horrifyingly awesome story that the new commenter had posted. (If Kristin Wiig a possibiity- do it here)
Although reading these posts was funny- it rang very true to me, how often do you see this in life? People one-upping each other to make themselves feel more important? We have to admit it to ourselves- we - each of us- has a one-upper inside of us. You know you do- you hear a story about a surgery or a child’s cuteness, anything- and you have a story just like it... only better. You want to share- you need to share. Seriously though- here in northern virginia culture there is a pervasiveness of competition. Everyone is awesome in northern virginia- so the goal is to figure out how to prove that you are awesome plus 1. The lagging job market, burgeoning schools and lack of space only exacerbate this cultural norm to compete. This pressure-cooker of competition and one-upmanship causes us to turn the focus inward- to be concerned with how much we know, how good we are and how much more we know and are able to do than others.
Jesus sticks up for the underdog a lot in scriptures. He isn’t impressed with people who beat out the competition and show how awesome plus 1 they are. He doesn’t appreciate the showy-ness of the pharisees or the knowledge of the self-proclaimed wise. This is bad news for smart and competitive folks like us. Or is it good news?
Do you ever think- man- I’m just over it? Over the competition, over having to prove myself, over having to be in these one-upping conversations? It’s frustrating that we are so ingrained in this need to be the best and look the best- it’s hard to escape. It is burdensome. It’s hard to look and be perfect all the time, especially since we aren’t. It seems counter-intuitive, but I think we are the most weary and burdened when all we think about is ourselves.
When I read the scripture for today- after really thinking about it- I got the feeling that Jesus was also kind of over the whole scene of being important and doing what everyone else expects or wants you to do. He talks about the kids fussing with each other in the market- the children won’t laugh or cry at the right time for the other kids. He talks about the irony of people criticizing John for not partying enough and then turning around and criticizing Jesus for partying too much. It’s a little ridiculous. In a sigh of a prayer- Jesus thanks God for giving wisdom to the infants. I think he is just so fed up with people posturing themselves and talking about what they know and how important they are that he just flips it all upside down. Babies know more than these folks- and how refreshing. I believe it. Sometimes I look at my 2 month old son and his innocent smile and just breathe a little sigh of relief. He is not burdened by a thing, and yet he cannot do a thing for himself.
We hear the last phrase in this scripture a lot in Christian circles- and it’s really comforting to hear: “come to me all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” I think we often hear this text as sort of a blanket promise that if we hang out with Jesus- he’ll carry our burdens for us and life will be easier. I’ve actually heard variations of this interpretation often. If you’re like me- you think- really- I feel like my burdens are the same if not more because I hang out with Jesus. My life did not get any easier the second I became a Christian- I didn’t suddenly develop the skill to glide through hardships the second I decided to follow Jesus. If we’re honest- I think we all can agree that life has some real burdens- no matter who you follow or how good you try to be. What could Jesus be saying in this scripture?
Maybe Jesus is not talking about an easier life here but a better way to carry the load. A wiser way - but the wisdom of infants. I hear Jesus telling us that the rest for our souls is found in learning gentleness and humility. I hear that word as a soft whisper of hope under the chaotic noise of competition, one-up-man-ship, defensiveness, and all the other trappings that come with feeling that we need to prove ourselves. The ironic thing that I have found in my relationships with all ages of folks- is that the most humble are the ones who are the most comfortable in their own skin. They are the ones who actually are surest of themselves. This sureness comes from an awareness of their strengths and weaknesses, and an acceptance of them. And when you have this comfort with yourself- you don’t feel the need to prove your worth to others- you already know that you are valuable. Jesus is certainly comfortable with who he is and does not feel the need to assert his power. Can you imagine how much time Jesus would have wasted if his focus was to prove who he was? Instead of focusing on proving his identity, he focused on being his identity- God incarnate.
As I was reading some commentaries on this scripture passage- something struck me that might be obvious to you- but it was a helpful distinction for me. When I heard the word yoke- I always heard it as synonymous with burden... but really the yoke is a method for carrying a burden. Like this yoke on the altar- it is a simple device placed on an animal that makes it easier to pull a heavy load. The load feels light. Often these yokes are shared between two animals to pull the load together.
Now I can get really into this whole yoke analogy and extrapolate all sorts of helpful nuances- but what I find most helpful is that Jesus isn’t promising the burdens to disappear. Jesus is offering to share the load- and what’s more- Jesus is sharing his yoke which is made so well that the burdens may feel lighter. Jesus is also asking you to lay down your burdens and share in his burdens, which do not involve puffing ourselves up or winning the competition- but rather, they are more valuable burdens to bear.
If we look closer at this scripture we can see the work that Jesus asks us to do. Jesus says: “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” Part of the process of being able to lay down our heavy burdens is that we learn from Jesus’ gentleness and humility. That is what gives us rest, that is what makes the yoke easy and burdens light- and it is hard work.
If we drop the burdens of being the best, drop the need to prove ourselves, drop the battle that we war on ourselves with every critical thought and self-loathing behavior, we might find rest. We have a chance to escape from the confines of a narrow self-focused vision. We have the hope to be free from concern of scrutiny and judgement. We can turn our attention to caring for others and sharing their loads- this is the worthy load that Jesus carries.
Maybe there are some of you who are one of the babes that Jesus speaks about- you have managed to escape the tick that most of us have compelling us to one-up each other, thinking more and more of ourselves and less and less of others. Bless you who are graced with a natural gentleness and humility. Help the rest of us in our journey. Pray for us.
So here is my challenge to all of us in the coming weeks. Let’s learn from the gentle and humble Jesus. Let’s stop ourselves before we stop listening and start telling our story. Let’s recognize that God has created us and called us good- we can rest in that affirmation and stop proving ourselves to each other. Let’s get over ourselves. Then we are free to pick up the yoke of Christ and carry the burdens worth carrying. We can stop carrying our selfishness and start carrying others. We can stop carrying our high standard of living and start carrying the homeless. We can stop carrying our genius title and start carrying the mentally disabled. We can stop carrying our precarious hold of power and start carrying the powerless. We can stop carrying our ego and start carrying the hopes and dreams of our neighbors. Let’s drop the burdens of being important and all knowing- and learn from Jesus’ gentleness and humbleness and pick up the burdens of those who need our help. Amen.
Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
16“But to what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to one another, 17‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn.’ 18For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon’;19the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.”
25At that time Jesus said, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; 26yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. 27All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him. 28“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 29Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find res t for your souls. 30For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
I am a facebook addict. I am. I admit it. I am weirdly intrigued by the minutia of people’s every day thoughts and documentation of life from status updates to pictures (I especially love the pictures). For those of you who aren’t obsessed with facebook- let me give you a brief tutorial on the lingo. Everyone has their own webpage that friends are invited to see and interact on. If I’m having a particularly rough morning- I can go on my facebook page and write something like: “Two temper tantrums, 1 diaper blowout and a skipped nap- gotta love parenthood.” That is what we call a status update or a post. Then my friends who read the post can write a response to that- we call those comments. People will also post links to other websites or articles that they find online. I am ashamed to admit that I learn most of my current events from my much smarter friends who post news stories on their facebook page. It’s a great social networking community with the ability to share pictures and updates on your life. A while ago one of my friends posted a link to a website that listed a series of what they called “annoying facebook one-uppers”- and the common culprit was of course some of the most annoying and obnoxious people in the world: parents. It was basically your general parental postings about temper tantrums, sleepless nights, etc- and the subsequent comments from other parents that recounted their experiences that were obviously so much harder and more traumatizing to deal with. Annoying one-uppers. The examples were like this one that is a real conversation from a friend’s page. (show write up) I understand comraderie- but most of these comments were really to turn the focus on the more horrifyingly awesome story that the new commenter had posted. (If Kristin Wiig a possibiity- do it here)
Although reading these posts was funny- it rang very true to me, how often do you see this in life? People one-upping each other to make themselves feel more important? We have to admit it to ourselves- we - each of us- has a one-upper inside of us. You know you do- you hear a story about a surgery or a child’s cuteness, anything- and you have a story just like it... only better. You want to share- you need to share. Seriously though- here in northern virginia culture there is a pervasiveness of competition. Everyone is awesome in northern virginia- so the goal is to figure out how to prove that you are awesome plus 1. The lagging job market, burgeoning schools and lack of space only exacerbate this cultural norm to compete. This pressure-cooker of competition and one-upmanship causes us to turn the focus inward- to be concerned with how much we know, how good we are and how much more we know and are able to do than others.
Jesus sticks up for the underdog a lot in scriptures. He isn’t impressed with people who beat out the competition and show how awesome plus 1 they are. He doesn’t appreciate the showy-ness of the pharisees or the knowledge of the self-proclaimed wise. This is bad news for smart and competitive folks like us. Or is it good news?
Do you ever think- man- I’m just over it? Over the competition, over having to prove myself, over having to be in these one-upping conversations? It’s frustrating that we are so ingrained in this need to be the best and look the best- it’s hard to escape. It is burdensome. It’s hard to look and be perfect all the time, especially since we aren’t. It seems counter-intuitive, but I think we are the most weary and burdened when all we think about is ourselves.
When I read the scripture for today- after really thinking about it- I got the feeling that Jesus was also kind of over the whole scene of being important and doing what everyone else expects or wants you to do. He talks about the kids fussing with each other in the market- the children won’t laugh or cry at the right time for the other kids. He talks about the irony of people criticizing John for not partying enough and then turning around and criticizing Jesus for partying too much. It’s a little ridiculous. In a sigh of a prayer- Jesus thanks God for giving wisdom to the infants. I think he is just so fed up with people posturing themselves and talking about what they know and how important they are that he just flips it all upside down. Babies know more than these folks- and how refreshing. I believe it. Sometimes I look at my 2 month old son and his innocent smile and just breathe a little sigh of relief. He is not burdened by a thing, and yet he cannot do a thing for himself.
We hear the last phrase in this scripture a lot in Christian circles- and it’s really comforting to hear: “come to me all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” I think we often hear this text as sort of a blanket promise that if we hang out with Jesus- he’ll carry our burdens for us and life will be easier. I’ve actually heard variations of this interpretation often. If you’re like me- you think- really- I feel like my burdens are the same if not more because I hang out with Jesus. My life did not get any easier the second I became a Christian- I didn’t suddenly develop the skill to glide through hardships the second I decided to follow Jesus. If we’re honest- I think we all can agree that life has some real burdens- no matter who you follow or how good you try to be. What could Jesus be saying in this scripture?
Maybe Jesus is not talking about an easier life here but a better way to carry the load. A wiser way - but the wisdom of infants. I hear Jesus telling us that the rest for our souls is found in learning gentleness and humility. I hear that word as a soft whisper of hope under the chaotic noise of competition, one-up-man-ship, defensiveness, and all the other trappings that come with feeling that we need to prove ourselves. The ironic thing that I have found in my relationships with all ages of folks- is that the most humble are the ones who are the most comfortable in their own skin. They are the ones who actually are surest of themselves. This sureness comes from an awareness of their strengths and weaknesses, and an acceptance of them. And when you have this comfort with yourself- you don’t feel the need to prove your worth to others- you already know that you are valuable. Jesus is certainly comfortable with who he is and does not feel the need to assert his power. Can you imagine how much time Jesus would have wasted if his focus was to prove who he was? Instead of focusing on proving his identity, he focused on being his identity- God incarnate.
As I was reading some commentaries on this scripture passage- something struck me that might be obvious to you- but it was a helpful distinction for me. When I heard the word yoke- I always heard it as synonymous with burden... but really the yoke is a method for carrying a burden. Like this yoke on the altar- it is a simple device placed on an animal that makes it easier to pull a heavy load. The load feels light. Often these yokes are shared between two animals to pull the load together.
Now I can get really into this whole yoke analogy and extrapolate all sorts of helpful nuances- but what I find most helpful is that Jesus isn’t promising the burdens to disappear. Jesus is offering to share the load- and what’s more- Jesus is sharing his yoke which is made so well that the burdens may feel lighter. Jesus is also asking you to lay down your burdens and share in his burdens, which do not involve puffing ourselves up or winning the competition- but rather, they are more valuable burdens to bear.
If we look closer at this scripture we can see the work that Jesus asks us to do. Jesus says: “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” Part of the process of being able to lay down our heavy burdens is that we learn from Jesus’ gentleness and humility. That is what gives us rest, that is what makes the yoke easy and burdens light- and it is hard work.
If we drop the burdens of being the best, drop the need to prove ourselves, drop the battle that we war on ourselves with every critical thought and self-loathing behavior, we might find rest. We have a chance to escape from the confines of a narrow self-focused vision. We have the hope to be free from concern of scrutiny and judgement. We can turn our attention to caring for others and sharing their loads- this is the worthy load that Jesus carries.
Maybe there are some of you who are one of the babes that Jesus speaks about- you have managed to escape the tick that most of us have compelling us to one-up each other, thinking more and more of ourselves and less and less of others. Bless you who are graced with a natural gentleness and humility. Help the rest of us in our journey. Pray for us.
So here is my challenge to all of us in the coming weeks. Let’s learn from the gentle and humble Jesus. Let’s stop ourselves before we stop listening and start telling our story. Let’s recognize that God has created us and called us good- we can rest in that affirmation and stop proving ourselves to each other. Let’s get over ourselves. Then we are free to pick up the yoke of Christ and carry the burdens worth carrying. We can stop carrying our selfishness and start carrying others. We can stop carrying our high standard of living and start carrying the homeless. We can stop carrying our genius title and start carrying the mentally disabled. We can stop carrying our precarious hold of power and start carrying the powerless. We can stop carrying our ego and start carrying the hopes and dreams of our neighbors. Let’s drop the burdens of being important and all knowing- and learn from Jesus’ gentleness and humbleness and pick up the burdens of those who need our help. Amen.
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