Battle Fatigue From the Start

Trump was elected two weeks ago. I've been pretty quiet since then. The loud cacophony of voices filling the last two weeks rendered my tired voice pretty useless, I felt. I'm weary of the whole thing. In fact, I'm probably going to take a December fast from social media. (The fact that I'm not sure I can even do that shows me that I desperately need to do it.)

But before I go, I'll say a few words -- to those who voted with me. Whether you voted with enthusiasm or, like I did, with heartache.

The temptation may be to breathe a sigh of relief. "Now the nation is safe from those dastardly liberals wanting to impose their socialist, atheistic agenda on us. We're good. The battle's over."

Not a chance, cupcake. The battle is just starting.

We should take no pride in this victory. We put a man in office who has a very good chance of shaming his position and shaming the country.

"But . . but Hillary . . . but . . . " Oh, hush. She's out of the picture. Now we have to deal with the abominable mess that we created when we decided to play games with the political process during the Republican primaries. He's there, he's got potential for MANY problems, and we're the ones who have to stop them.

First, acknowledge the fear that marginalized groups feel in this country. Yes, it feels to us like it's over-the-top (like the black boy my pastor encountered the day before the election who had been told that if Trump were elected, all the black men would get put in jail -- ??!?!!?). But honestly, it's no more over-the-top than the rhetoric we would have heard about the country turning into Cuba if Clinton had won.

The man has said and done some atrocious things. Don't defend or belittle them. Don't give them cause to think he represents us in that. Acknowledge the atrocity of it, and stand firm that freedom still reigns in this country because the people make it so, no matter who is the president. The people angry enough to put him in office will be angry enough to get him out if that's what it takes. Nobody needs to fear for their civil liberties on our watch.

Second, don't get all joyful about Obamacare being repealed and such. Obamacare happened because Republicans ignored the healthcare crisis for so long that the people were willing to try something radical, just so something -- SOMETHING -- was getting done. (Kind of like the exasperation that swept Trump into the White House, really.)

Repealing Obamacare will not solve anything. We've got to come up with something better. And it really has to be BETTER -- not just different. Don't get on the anything-but-Obamacare bandwagon. Make this a debate that actually leads to something good for our country.

Third, don't act like the man is a Christian and is going to protect our religious freedom. Maybe he is; maybe he isn't. God knows his heart; we only see his behavior. I see nothing in his behavior yet to give evidence of his submission to God -- much the opposite. That said, I don't think we can safely expect him to keep any promises he made during his campaign. We have to stay on our toes.

Yeah, yeah . . . he's seemed a bit more subdued and presidential the last two weeks. He also took to Twitter to make some idiotic, rash comments about the Hamilton cast's manners. Whether or not you agreed with him, the man just needed to shut up. He has bigger fish to fry. (Seriously, somebody just take his Twitter account away!! And take some of his billions and buy him some thicker skin.)

The rancor and division in this country are getting to me. I wish it wasn't. I wish I could have faith and move on. But I'm tired.

You know what I want? I want both sides to sit down and be quiet for a while. I want both sides to admit that those who disagree with them are not necessarily evil incarnate. I want people to start looking for what we can agree on and working toward that. Compromise. Peace.

I also want to weigh what I did when I got married. I have no optimism for either prospect. Just pass me the caramel popcorn and turn off my Facebook account.

What I Won't Take For Granted

Thankfulness is a spiritual discipline, and it's one I have a hard time cultivating in times like these when my sleep issues are at their worst. What's more, I've found that the term "thankful" has become too trite to be useful for me. Particularly in Christian circles, it seems (and for everyone once the month of November hits), we talk so much about being thankful that it almost becomes nothing more that a rote recitation.

I am reminding myself lately that there are things in my life that I must not take for granted -- things I have right now that I have not always had and will not always have, and I MUST make a point of appreciating their presence while I have them. Here are a few:

Hot Showers: Hubby and I are still entertaining the idea of living out of the country during retirement. And we learned during our week in Panama a few years ago that very few homes there have hot water for showers. Let me tell you, people: cold showers are such a miserable experience for me that I might rather just let myself stink. The vast majority of the time I take a shower anymore, I let myself feel the wonderful hot water on my body and take a minute to stand there and just flat out enjoy the feeling. A time may come when I will long for this, so I don't want to take it for granted now.

Breathing: When I get a cold, nine times out of ten, it settles in my chest, and I end up coughing for weeks -- many miserable, exhausting weeks. I avoid sick people like the plague because a cold just isn't a minor deal for me. I have caught myself many times, while lying in bed in the morning getting ready to get up, taking big, deep breaths and just loving the feeling of air flowing through my lungs smoothly. I know that at any time, I could be exposed to germs that will temporarily disrupt that. I make a point now to appreciate the times when I can breathe.

Being Able to See Enough to Read: My mother had macular degeneration. My eye doctor reminded me the other day that I should probably take some eye health supplements to head off the possibility of having similar problems. Macular degeneration manifests itself in blurry vision right at the center of where you focus, which means it makes it difficult and eventually impossible to read. I am a serious reader. Reading is integral to my life right now: I read books, magazines, student papers, scripts, online articles, emails, my own plethora of to-do lists . . . not being able to read would alter my life profoundly. I like my life. I want to be able to read. And since there's a chance I won't be able to someday, I treasure every day that I can now.

Being Able to Think Straight; My father had Alzeimer's disease. Since there seems to be a genetic component to that, I have always known that there was a possibility of my developing the disease as well. The older I get and the more my father's siblings become similarly debilitated, the more I think about that possible future for me. Someday, I may not be able to remember things or understand what people say to me or keep my own thoughts straight. I want to appreciate the ability to think while I have it.

My Daughters' Presence: This is a biggie. I have a twenty-year-old and a sixteen-year-old. The oldest could very well have chosen to go away to college but didn't. The youngest may very well make that choice in a couple years. I have never enjoyed my daughters more than I enjoy them right now: they are intelligent, caring, thoughtful, FUN young ladies, and wonder of wonders, they seem to enjoy spending time with hubby and me. I know I am blessed. I know someday they will have families and careers, and Mom and Dad will move down the priority list . . . which will be as it should be. So I welcome every moment I can have with them now and treasure up these times in my heart.


Someday, these blessings may be gone. And because I serve a loving and gracious God, I know when that time comes, there will be other blessings to appreciate. But I refuse to get to that day and realize I didn't appreciate what I had while I had it. No matter how crazy my days get . . . no matter how grouchy I am from sleep deprivation . . . no matter how discouraged I am about the direction of our nation . . . I must never, ever take God's gifts for granted.

Lessons from 1912

I found a link the other day to an exam given to 8^th grade students in 1912. So, because the girls and I were sitting around bored, I started quizzing them.

Good heavens. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. So I laughed – a lot.

We laughed more and more as the night went on. The funniest moment for me was when I asked them who invented the cotton gin. "Martin Luther!" my eldest called. "Kabalevsky!" the youngest screamed. I decided to just content myself with the fact that a good number of kids their age don't know who Martin Luther is to even offer him as a joke answer, and even less have probably even HEARD of Kabalevsky.

But to be fair, I wouldn't have passed the test either. Not even the grammar section, and we all know what a grammar diva I am. "What properties have verbs?" Yeah, right. And I took some comfort in the fact that these 1912 kids had one hundred years less of history to learn than we did. So, I don't mourn my inability to "sketch briefly Peter Stuyvesant."

It also has occurred to me, when I've seen such items in the past, that we can't necessarily compare those kids to ours. While I would argue that we need to do a better job of educating our children these days, still, comparing public school results today to public school results in 1912 is like comparing apples and oranges.

In 1912, they did not have this lofty goal of "No Child Left Behind." America has decided that every single student in the country needs to be equally well-educated. That was not the goal in 1912. A much smaller percentage of students were attending school back then. Many did not have access to schools . . . many had to work to support their families and couldn't take the time for school . . . and many, frankly, just couldn't cut it in school, and they quit. And they were allowed to quit. It's much easier to hold your students to a higher standard when you don't have to worry about getting EVERY student to that standard.

That's the thing about high standards: they sometimes give the illusion of grand success, but they often reflect a reality of selective success.

My daughter had a different reaction to the test, however. In the car the next day (after finishing her history assignment for the morning over the second World War), she said, "You know, it's weird to think that those kids in 1912 knew nothing at all about either of the World Wars."

They didn't. They had no idea that these stunning, cataclysmic, world-changing events were just around the corner in their lives. Life probably seemed to them pretty calm, pretty smooth, pretty much like this is how it has always been and always will be.

Makes you wonder, doesn't it? In thirty years, what stunning, cataclysmic, world-changing events could disrupt the calm, smooth lives of MY teenagers?

I almost shudder to think.

On Elections, Prayer, and William Wilberforce

My Iowa friends have been posting pictures of themselves meeting presidential candidates. 'Tis the season.

It was quite an experience living in the Hawkeye state for the 2012 caucuses. Candidates were everywhere. We simply stopped answering the phone because we got pre-recorded calls from one campaign or another all day long. By the last week, I was erasing 10-12 messages from our voicemail every night -- including the occasional one that sounded suspiciously like it might have been the actual candidate on the phone and made me kind of wish I'd picked up the receiver and asked the man a few questions.

Despite such annoyances, I liked being in Iowa for a presidential election. Frankly, it was the only time I've ever felt like my vote mattered much, like it might actually make a difference in things. But I think I'm grateful not to be there this year because I have no bloody clue who I would vote for.

I hate elections. Admittedly, I would probably hate any alternative even more; they are a necessary evil in a free society, which is where I want to live. But the process of choosing people to represent us in the government has become such an unsavory one. I despair of our being able to elect an intelligent, capable, and moral person to national office unless it just happens by accident.

For Christmas, I got Eric Metaxas' book Amazing Grace about the life of William Wilberforce, the man behind the abolition of the slave trade in Britain. Great book. Great, great book. Highly recommended.

Interesting thing about Wilberforce: he didn't become a believer until after he was pretty well established in the House of Commons. In fact, the man who eventually became the nation's moral compass was something of a moral mess when he was elected to Parliament. And it sounds like he couldn't have been elected if he had been otherwise. Parliament was so corrupt at the time, Wilberforce pretty much had to buy his way into office.

Once he met Jesus and his life turned around, he was convinced he would need to resign, that remaining in his elected position would have to be inconsistent with his new convictions. It was John Newton (former slave ship captain and author of the lyrics to the famous hymn "Amazing Grace") who convinced him that he needed to stay where he was -- that perhaps God had brought him to this place "for such a time as this." And the rest is world-changing history.

Reading about Wilberforce convicted me in so many ways. But it also changed my approach to and my attitude about elections and government.

As I said, I despair of our electing a righteous person to the office of president -- rightly or wrongly, that's where I'm at. I fear the the election process has become such that it requires things of our potential leaders that make them decidedly less than righteous, moral, or ethical.

But Wilberforce's story reminds me that God isn't hampered by that fact. God is in the life-changing business, and our elected officials are not beyond His reach. If God can change an 18th century British Parliamentarian and use him in such a mighty way, He can certainly do that with a 21st century American president.

So while I will still vote my conscience this year, hoping for a candidate that has the moral direction I want in a leader, I will not be discouraged at my lack of choices or my apparent impotence in the matter. I am not impotent. I am a pray-er. And God still uses pray-ers to move the world, perhaps even by moving the moral compasses of the ungodly people in power.

What Happened to Kids TV?

Even though my girls are getting older, it seems that Disney and Nickelodeon are the most-watched television channels in our house. I can't complain too much; Lord knows they are better than a lot of the stuff out there that teens are watching.

But I have noticed over the last several years some interesting cycles in children's television. Here is a sample of some of the newest shows these channels offer kids these days.

"KC Undercover" -- a girl who is a secret spy, which all the required gadgets spies have
"Best Friends Whenever" -- two girls who can travel through time
"The Thundermans" -- a family of superheroes
"Henry Danger" -- a kid who becomes a superhero's sidekick
"Talia in the Kitchen" -- a girl who has magical spices she can use in her food
"Dog with a Blog" -- a family with a talking dog (this one was just cancelled, as was . . . )
"The Haunted Hathaways -- a family of ghosts living with another family (nevertheless . . . )

Notice a pattern here? These kids all have "powers", magical abilities that normal kids don't have. "Wizards of Waverly Place" probably kicked off this wave several years ago. Interesting . . .

Now, a few years ago, I was seeing a different trend (one that still is bleeding over a bit into today; some of these shows are still on):

"Austin and Ally" -- a couple of kids who become famous pop singers
"Liv and Maddie" -- a famous TV actress comes home to live with her family again
"Shake It Up" -- a couple of girls get gigs dancing on a TV show
"ANT Farm" -- a class of kids with unusual talents, led by a singer/musician
"Victorious" -- a school for the performing arts
"iCarly" -- a couple kids with a popular webshow
"Big Time Rush" -- a boys' band trying to make it big
"Sonny with a Chance" -- kids on a TV sketch comedy show
"Hannah Montana" -- which probably started this trend

Yep -- a bunch of shows about kids becoming famous performers.

So, where are the shows about regular kids living regular lives? There are a few, and they kind of stand out. "Girl Meets World" is probably the biggest one these days. Except for the fact that it is overtly and quite intentionally sappy and preachy, it may be one of the best shows on these channels right now.

Very likely, this isn't news to anyone. Kids shows have probably used these themes for years. But then I look at some of my girls' favorite kids' shows from the past:

"Drake and Josh" -- an all-time favorite, about two relatively normal kids (yes, Drake has a band, but it's not the center of the show)
"Zoey 101" -- bad acting and writing, but again, pretty regular (albeit rich) kids
"Ned's Declassified School Survival Guide" -- regular kids surviving middle school
"Lizzie McGuire" -- my eldest STILL watches old episodes of this at night and loves it because the characters are genuine and real.

I don't know that there is a particular point I want to make here. Just observations -- mainly that writing a good TV show for kids must be pretty difficult because it's not often done very well.

Summer Lethargy

I love summer. I'm not going to lie: one of the best things about being a teacher and living on a school schedule is that everything changes in the summer. I need that change. I've thought many times that I wouldn't do very well in a "regular" job that is basically the same schedule every day all year long for years and years. I need to switch things up in my life on a regular basis.

Notice, however, that I didn't say anything about getting my summer "off." In a sense, I do; but in another sense, I am still working. I have three new classes I'm teaching this fall that I have to read all the literature for and make plans for. I'm also helping with a week of VBS at our church, teaching a two-week drama camp at the end of July, and we're leaving tomorrow for a one-week vacation. And in August, I'll have another Bible study curriculum I'm supposed to write. Frankly, I'm starting to feel a little pressure that I'm not going to get it all done in time -- at least in time to feel like I'm doing it well, up to my own high standards for my teaching.

But as I said, at least things change in the summer. No getting up to an alarm. No packing lunches. I can sit and work outside if I want. My deadlines are self-imposed, for the most part, so I feel more in control of things. Life is so much more relaxing.

So, yeah . . . summer. It's not "time off", but it's "time different", and that's good for me.

To a degree.

I'm also finding, however, that other aspects of the summer "time different" are not to my benefit. I need routine. I need breaks from my routine occasionally, but then I really need to get back into routine. When I'm out of routine too long, I get lethargic . . . mentally and physically.

Lately I've found that I go to bed with a to-do list for the next day and a lot of enthusiasm about getting that stuff done. Because I really like getting things done. Productivity is an idol I have to be very cautious of; I tend to serve it and give it more value than is appropriate.

However, that's not a problem for me these days. I wake up in the morning and I'm dragging. I'm dragging myself into the kitchen to get a bite to eat. I'm dragging myself over to the laptop to check if something important came in overnight that I need to address. And then I'm dragging myself through my Facebook feed (which is much too addictive -- I've got to set some rules for myself about FB if I'm going to make it through the summer).

All my bedtime enthusiasm is gone. I look at that to-do list and everything looks like a drag . . .  or it looks overwhelming . . . or it looks like something I can't start quite yet because of this or that or the other . . . or it looks like something I need somebody else for and everyone else is unavailable . . . or it looks like something that really isn't that important to do right now . . . or . . . I'm full of excuses. And out of motivation.

I've been blaming this on the lousy sleep I've been getting; for a few weeks now, I've been waking up early and only drowsing through the wee hours of the morning. But I've started to wonder if even the lousy sleep is a consequence of my lack of schedule.

When the sun dawns on a whole day that is open and free, it feels ridiculous to impose a strict schedule on myself. But when I go to bed at night, I look back on the freedom of my day and see how I've abused it. I need a schedule. I've got to make it happen.

But it won't happen quite yet. Tomorrow we leave for vacation, and traveling has its own schedule. I may find time in that schedule for blogging, but I may not. So, in case I don't, enjoy this lovely week of June -- and get up and get something done!

Benedict and Daniel

These new pictures of Bruce Jenner make me sad. The effusive praise coming from his supporters makes me sad. The hateful spite coming from his detractors makes me sad. The whole flippin' situation . . . sad, sad, sad. I grieve over what is happening in our country.

I posted an article on FB yesterday about a movement that's apparently been around but I'd never heard of: the Benedict Option. Here's the gist of it. America is going the way of ancient Rome, morally imploding. For the past few decades, religious social conservatives have believed themselves to be the majority and tried to get everyone to band together and vote the right way to protect and maintain their beliefs. It is becoming increasingly clear that they are no longer the majority (if they ever were) and that they are, in fact, becoming social pariahs. The Moral Majority approach will no longer work. We need instead to follow the example of St. Benedict who, when Rome was falling, created small communities where truth was taught and maintained. We need to "cultivate and preserve a robustly Christian subculture within an increasingly hostile common culture."

Interesting, because I've kind of been thinking along those lines for quite a while now.

Benedict created monasteries -- and that kind of cocooning is not what is needed now, I don't think. (Not sure it's even feasible in this day and age.) But I've thought for a long time (and have written about it here) that the Church in America is going to soon have to start taking a Daniel approach to ministry.

Daniel was one of the Hebrews carried away to Babylon during the Jewish exile. Because he was upper class and well-educated, he was brought to the court, probably with the hopes that they could re-educate him to their beliefs and he would be an asset to their side. Instead, he stood firm on his own beliefs (recall the lion's den story) and ended up influencing the king himself. Others in exile were like him, and they preserved the Hebrew faith until they were allowed to go home.

I heard a speaker once talking about starting a church in Salt Lake City with a Daniel approach, as opposed to a David and Goliath approach. Rather than storming the place to conquer the enemy (which seems to have been the way of the American Church lately), he entered as a guest in a foreign land, living out truth quietly and peacefully (whatever the consequences), praying for an invitation to give a reason for his belief.

This is the future of believers in America, I think. My principal spoke once of the fact that we are called to raise a Daniel generation. Amen.

No coming after the giants with rage and defiance. No hiding away in monasteries. Live quietly and peacefully within the hostile land. Live out the truth, whatever the consequences, and pray that others look at your life and want to have what you have. Quietly, peacefully, and lovingly.

Because Christ said his disciples would be known by their love. Not our politics . . . not our morals . . . not our rhetoric . . . by our love.  And Lord knows, that is NOT what the American Church is known for these days.

My Time Don't Fly

Yesterday was our last teacher workday. My school year is officially over. For the last couple weeks, I've been hearing all sorts of students and parents and staff members saying things like, "Can you believe the year is over already? It went so fast! It feels like just yesterday was September. Doesn't it feel like just yesterday was September?"

And I have to say -- no. Not at all.

I don't often have that sensation that so many people speak of that time is passing so quickly. And I'm not sure if that's good or bad.

I can't say that it seems like yesterday when my kids were tiny. No, it seems like ten or fifteen years ago -- which it was.

I don't honestly feel like I should be twenty-five years old. Or thirty. No, I feel like I should be about forty-six -- which I am. Now, I don't feel like I should be as fat and tired as I am at forty-six, but that's a different issue. I DO feel like I should be as old as I am. I've done a lot of living. (And I hope I have a lot more living to do.)

I believe I commented last year on my 25th wedding anniversary that I feel like I've been married 25 years. A full 25. No more, no less. (Well, by now it's almost 26.)

And I don't think this school year has gone by quickly. It feels like it took about nine months. Just right.

I suppose I should feel grateful that it doesn't seems like the year took a decade. Or should I? That remark would have the connotation that it dragged . . . that it was boring, or miserable, or difficult . . . but it doesn't necessarily have to mean that, does it? We say, "This was a long day," and we are usually implying that it was a difficult one as well. But I've had many "long days" that were actually quite enjoyable. And shouldn't I be grateful for God packing as much joy and experience into a day as possible? Or into a school year? Or a lifetime?

When I have friends lamenting how fast time is going, or how quickly their kids are growing up, or how they can't be as old as they really are, part of me feels sad for them. I mean, truth is, a lot of people just say that as small talk; it's kind of The Thing To Say in certain situations. But if they really feel like the time has passed that quickly, that's a shame. It almost seems to imply to me that they haven't really savored it as they experienced it.

One of the best pieces of parenting advice I got when my girls were babies was to enjoy the moment. "Don't spend all your time thinking that you can't wait until they're sleeping through the night -- or until they're out of diapers -- or until they're in school -- or until this or that. There are challenges at every age and in every developmental stage, but there are also wonderful blessings. If you waste your time longing for the blessings of the next stage, you miss all the blessings of this one."

I think I have followed that advice, for the most part. I'm sure there were days when the girls were tiny that I forgot to look for the blessings (mothering, honestly, doesn't come naturally to me, I don't think; I struggled a lot in those younger years). But I feel like I lived every year of my life and experienced everything God put in my path to experience. I don't want to go back. I want to go forward.

And speaking of going forward, I'm already planning lessons for next year in my head at night. I'm a freak like that.

My Crowded Mind

I'll be blunt: I have nothing profound to say today. If it weren't for the fact that I try to make writing a discipline and I've been lax on that discipline in the last couple weeks, I wouldn't even attempt a blog post today at all.

One reason I have nothing profound to say is because I have so many different strands of thought going in my mind right now that none of them can dip very far beneath the surface to find deep connections in my psyche. Wanna hear about all those strands? Sure you do.

- The Film Festival -- which I wrote about last post. Still going through tomorrow. The director of a local homeschool theater company jokingly suggested that I should teach a film-making class this summer since I'm all excited about the concept now. Which really was a joke. Until I thought about it more. And now I'm actually stupid enough to be considering the idea seriously. (Just what makes me think I can teach a film-making class? I have no idea. But, you know, I asked myself the same question in the middle of directing my first play . . . "What made you think you could do this??" And yet I did it.)

- The School Play -- which I am directing. This project has been a challenge on many levels. Many beginner actors. Very little rehearsal time. Limited storage for props and costumes. Little to no access to our actual performance space until the final dress rehearsal. So many details . . . it seems like this play is on my mind at some level 24/7. Two weeks from today is performance day . . .

- School Next Year -- I wrote earlier about how my daughter's high school is not continuing and we're trying to start a homeschool co-op. Lots of research and thought and planning going into that. Plus, I'm teaching the English for that co-op . . . even more research and thought and planning. And I'm starting to wonder if I just want to do the history myself, also. (Believe it or not, I may prefer that to hunting down and paying for a curriculum that I may not end up liking.) Always on the brain . . .

- Grammar -- I offered to help the school come up with a new grammar curriculum for the whole school -- because what they do now isn't working well. And because I love grammar. So, I will find myself at times just thinking through grammar concepts, and ways to teach them, and what needs to be taught before what, and on and on . . .

- Launching the Eldest -- My older daughter has a lot of significant things happening in her life right now. She's doing a College Plus program called Navigate that is supposed to help her find focus and direction for her life. She's getting ready to start classes at St. Philip's College in the fall. She's buying a car (well, we will own it, but we're walking her through the gruntwork of the purchase). She's looking for a job. She's getting ready for her boyfriend to possibly move to San Antonio in a couple months. And in all of this, she needs our support and guidance.

- Curriculum Writing -- The company for whom I write Bible study guides just sent me transcripts of the DVDs for my next assignment, a Bible study over the Song of Solomon. I have five weeks to write leader guides for six sessions. Scripture about loving God, His loving us, etc. etc. . . .

- Summer Drama Camps -- The afore-mentioned homeschool theater director asked if I'd be willing to teach any other drama camps this summer. So, the idea of a two-week performance camp for elementary kids is also shaping in my mind . . .

- Junior High English Classes Next Year -- I will still be teaching junior high literature at Summit Christian Academy next year, and occasionally thoughts about those classes start floating through my head . . .

- English Classes THIS Year -- And this school year isn't over yet: Don Quixote and Tale of Two Cities are still on my plate before summer break, among other things.

- Driver's Ed -- for the younger daughter -- she's itching to start.

- Bible Study Fellowship -- still have to keep up with this. (And I'm bracing myself to be asked to be a group leader in the fall . . . can I really add that to the pile?)

- Prayer List -- there are several people I've felt strongly convicted to pray for that God keeps bringing up at random moments . . . Now -- they need you to lift them up right now . . . 

- Birthdays -- both of my daughters have theirs at the end of April. Which I just remembered the other day.

AND HANGING OVER IT ALL . . .

- Tan pants. My daughter needs them. For the play. I hate clothes shopping so much, this may be the item on the list that weighs on me the most.

So there. A tour of the innards of my mind this Spring Break week. Aren't you glad you're just visiting and not living here for the duration? :)

Mainstreams and Margins

Our Sunday School teacher used that phrase yesterday. Mainstreams and margins. Our society tends to refer to "majorities" and "minorities," but I think these terms are more accurate. You can be a statistical majority and still be on the margins of society. It's not about the numbers.

In the context of our discussion, the teacher asked us to consider situations in our lives when we have been in either camp. When have you been in the margins? And when you were, what were your thoughts and feelings about those in the mainstream? Conversely, when you've been in the mainstream, how did you think and feel about those in the margins?

We were examining passages in Acts about conflict resolution -- specifically Acts 15, when the Council in Jerusalem had to make a decision about circumcision. Do Gentiles who trust in Christ have to become Jews before they become Christians? Is Christianity just a new branch of Judaism, or is it something else entirely?

At that time, the Jewish Christians were the mainstream. Gentile Christians were the margins. Kind of interesting, when you think about it.

In the United States, Christianity has been the mainstream since Europeans began settling the land. And most people will insist that it still is. Look at all our churches. Look at all the Christian holidays we celebrate. Look at all the surveys indicating how many people identify as Christians, believe in God, attend Christian worship services, etc.

But you see, that's about majority. I'm talking about mainstream. And I contend the national waters are started to flow down a different stream.

Oh, I don't think churches are going to start disappearing right away. Blatant atheism isn't going to be running rampant around here anytime soon. But I'm convinced we're headed the direction Europe has gone. I haven't ever been to Europe, but from what I understand, churches are mostly historical artifacts around there. Very few active members. And very few churches that are serving as salt and light in the dark worlds around them.

John Piper said in a recent sermon, "The Christian Church in America suffers from about 350 years of dominance and prosperity. . . this has deeply ingrained in us a massively unbiblical mindset, namely, a mindset of at-homeness in this world and in this age." It has been easy to be a Christian in America, and that easiness has created a feebleness that will be our downfall.

I vividly remember the words a couple decades ago of a missionary from a country in the Eastern block that had been freed from Soviet control and was experiencing new religious freedoms. His believing friends in that nation were bemoaning to him, "Why did God take away the blessing of persecution?" Easy Christianity was making for weak Christianity. Ineffective Christianity. Faux Christianity. What makes us think our faith was supposed to be easy?

The blessing of persecution. Dare we ask God for that blessing upon our nation? I'm coming to suspect that the Church was always meant to stand in the margins rather than float in the mainstream.

Can We Celebrate This?

The Butler was on this past weekend (at least in our house – Hubby DVR’d it). And I was once again moved by the scene at the end when Cecil Gaines watches Barack Obama winning the presidency.

Because as much as I am opposed to the man’s politics and policies – as much as I disagree with the direction he has taken our country in the last six years – I was and still am quite moved by the fact that our country finally elected an African-American to its highest office. Seeing a movie like The Butler, which reminds us of how bad things were at one time for blacks in our country and how hard the fight was to turn that around, only makes me the more grateful.

My daughter, on the other hand, was surprisingly complacent about the whole thing. Maybe it was a big deal, she said, but it really shouldn’t have been.  It shouldn’t have mattered what color his skin was. Well no, honey, it shouldn’t have – but it did. That’s the whole point. And the fact that it doesn’t matter to you now is kind of the whole point.

Can we take a moment to celebrate the fact that – despite the whole “black lives matter” controversies of recent months – we are raising what is probably the most colorblind generation the United States has ever seen? My children had to be taught that some people see blacks as inferior, and they found this fact strange. There’s a victory right there. I don’t remember being taught that. I just knew. It was part of my experience; it’s not part of theirs.

In 1995 and 1996, I worked as a temp in an MCI sales office in Springfield, Missouri, with an African-American receptionist named Belinda, who became a close friend. This was during the O.J. Simpson trial – and in a city about an hour north of the Arkansas border where a road sign informed you that the local Ku Klux Klan chapter sponsored the clean-up of that stretch of highway – so she and I had a lot of talks about race relations during that year together.

I remember the day she told me that her parents believed that every white person in America thought like Mark Fuhrman – that all white people hate black people. I was stunned. You mean to tell me that, if they walked in this door and saw me sitting at this desk . . . didn’t know me from Adam . . . knew nothing about my background, my faith, my beliefs, my experiences, my heart . . . they would look at the color of my skin and immediately assume that I hated them?? Yes, she said, they would. That had been their experience.

Stunned, I tell you. I was completely stunned.

She was quick to tell me that she certainly didn’t believe that – her life experiences had been quite different. And her daughter’s experiences had been better yet – her biracial daughter had never experienced any significant prejudice that she was aware of in her fourteen years to that point (despite living in a city where blacks were a very small minority). My friend had much hope for the future of race relations in our country and in that community in particular.

Can we take a moment to celebrate the differences in life experiences in the three generations of that African-American family?

I’m not so ignorant or sheltered as to believe racism has been eradicated in America. Frankly, I’m realistic enough to believe that it never will be eradicated in America . . . in this world . . . or in this life. Humanity is just that sinful. But in the midst of difficult times in our country, I would love to hear more people celebrating that, by the grace of God, we are not who we used to be.

My Future With Dementia

Yesterday, a friend posted on FB a link to a news story about Alzheimer’s disease (which you can see here). The reporter experienced a simulation created to give you an idea of how life is for victims. It was fascinating to watch.

My father died in 2001 after a 21-year battle with Alzheimer’s. His three sisters have all been diagnosed now as well. (His three brothers haven’t shown any symptoms that I’m aware of.) Since there is a genetic component to this, I've known for quite a while that there’s a chance that I may be afflicted one of these days.

I think that should disturb me more than it does. Maybe if I watch more videos like this one, it will. And maybe as I get older (Dad was diagnosed in his mid-50s), it will. But right now, I surprisingly seem to take this in stride.

I've made it clear to my family that I want them to have no hesitations over putting me in a nursing home when it is time. Please do the work to be sure it’s a good nursing home (I may even do some care-shopping myself while I’m capable). And please keep an eye on me and visit me frequently. But don’t think you’re being heroic or loving by keeping me in your house when I reach the point of being dangerously debilitated. Put me where I’m safe and you’re safe, too.

I've also made it clear that I want them to appreciate the humor in the situation whenever they can. Seriously. I remember once visiting my dad in the common room of his care center when a fellow patient wandered into the room. She looked around curiously, and then announced loudly to everyone present, “I gotta pee!” And she dropped her sweatpants and undergarments to her ankles. The four care workers in the room came diving from their various corners, calling in unison, “Noooooo!!!!”

I tried SO hard to stifle my laughter. It was hilarious. Please don’t judge me – if that had been my dad, I would have laughed, too. It was funny, people! If I get to where I’m doing crazy stuff like that, I want my family to feel free to find some enjoyment in it. Life will be hard enough at that point; you gotta see the humor where you can.

The editor of World magazine once wrote about his mother's Alzheimer's experience. She had apparently had a miserable, difficult life and was generally a very unpleasant, miserable person to be around for most of it. Until she got dementia. Then she forgot all the old resentments and hurts -- every day was new and bright. He said her last three years of life were probably her happiest. Sometimes there is a blessing in forgetting.

I don't expect that to be me -- I don't think I have horrible resentments that will bring bliss when they are forgotten. But I have been making a point of trying to change my general mental state. What I have noticed about people as they age (including my parents) is that they don't really change in personality; they just lose their ability (or desire sometimes) to put on the mask that they are expected to wear in polite society. They say what they really think. They act how they really feel. They stop playing the "nice" game, and usually not by choice. 

This being the case, I want to be sure that I'm genuinely nice, that my thoughts and feelings are full of grace and love, so when my filter is gone, I'm not spouting venom to the world that serves to isolate me from the world. My best preparation for old age, I think, is submitting myself wholeheartedly to God changing me from the inside out, so I'm as much like Him as possible. 

Which, really, should be my goal in life anyway, right?

Educating My Weird Girl

"Oh, my gosh! I LOVE standardized tests! They're, just, not like other tests. They're all multiple choice . . . and you get to fill in the answers in the little bubbles . . . and you use number two pencils . . . and they always have all these things to read, these short articles and stories, and they're so INTERESTING . . . oh, my gosh . . . I'm just, like, "OH, yeah -- I SO want to take this test!"

Believe it or not, there was not a hint of sarcasm in my daughter's voice when she said that yesterday. Just unbridled enthusiasm. Sometimes that girl is so fabulously weird, I can hardly stand it.

I may be enjoying her wonderful weirdness all the more next year. She won't be going back to her school. The board announced to the ninth grade parents that, financially, it is just not feasible for them to continue to offer high school classes right now. They're going to work on building up the student body K-8 until the numbers can support a high school.

For the school, I suppose it was the right decision. For our kids in the first SCA high school class, it means some decision-making. This group of five kids is such an amazing group -- I know because I get to teach them. We parents would love to find a way to keep them together next year.

We've talked some about doing our own little homeschool co-op . . . but only casually, we haven't had a time since the announcement to get together and talk about it officially . . . but I'm getting vibes that other families are unsure about that option . . . who knows what will happen at this point . . .

But my daughter, for her part, is ready to teach herself.

Seriously. She wants me to give her the curriculum and let her run. She was even asking the other day about the possibility of graduating early and going on to college.

And she's getting me excited about all this, too.

This is surprising to me, because I never intended to homeschool either of my girls through high school. I just didn't want to deal with the transcripts and official stuff. It all seemed too complicated and not worth my effort when there are good options out there for people who will take care of that for me.

I'm not exactly sure why my mind has changed. Maybe it's because I've been so involved in the planning for this high school program at SCA and thinking through what the students will need to do in the next four years. Now that I've done that thinking, my brain is also cranking with ways my fabulously weird daughter can do all this -- ways that take advantage of her fabulous weirdness. She's unique; I'd love for her educational experience to match her uniqueness. And figuring out how to do that suddenly sounds SO exciting.

Although not as exciting as standardized tests are to her, apparently. What a wonderful weirdo. Love this kid.

My Other Idol of Choice

I have a to-do list app on my phone. I also have an agenda for school where I keep daily to-do lists, and my lesson plans are basically to-do lists for that hour. And on particularly busy days, I combine all of my various lists into one master hand-written list -- hand-written so I can physically cross items off and watch them disappear rather than swipe them to another day.

I've always been like this. When I taught high school twenty years ago, I had an agenda with a list of things to do when I got to school in the morning, a list of things to do over my planning period, a list of things to do at the end of the day, and a list of things to do at home in the evening. I misplaced that agenda one day and was completely lost for that twenty-four hours -- useless to humanity.

I know I'm not the only to-do list fanatic out there. A young mother friend on FB said that she writes "Keep children alive" on her daily lists so that she can definitely cross that one off at the end of the day and feel like she accomplished at least one important task. Had to chuckle at that one -- wish I'd thought of it.

I also know that I come by this listing urge naturally. Our eldest took an online Meyers-Briggs test the other day, so we all got to talking about our personality types. I'm an INFJ (the rarest type, apparently). The "J" means that I prioritize the decision-making part of my life over the information-gathering part -- I'm focused on getting stuff done. (I, Hubby, and the youngest are all J's; the eldest is a "P". That explains SOOO much.)

But times have come in my life when I am concerned about my focus on productivity. That probably sounds ridiculous to most of you -- who could have a problem with being productive? And I don't really have a problem with being productive. But I think I define the value of my day -- and my own personal value, as well -- by how productive I've been.

When Hubby comes home and asks, "How was your day?", my mind immediately goes to my to-do list. Even if I've had a joyous time with my girls, or had some meaningful conversations with friends, or whatever . . . if the to-do list remains unscathed, I have a hard time defining my day as good. My one focus throughout the day is to get things done. Not to enjoy people, or hear God, or make a difference in humanity, but to get things done.

That doesn't seem right.

There was one Christmas vacation while we were in Iowa when we came home earlier than usual, and I had a couple days at home that actually, truly felt free. I had no immediate responsibilities. I decided to completely set aside my to-do lists for those two days and simply do whatever I felt like doing in that moment.

It was the most bizarre feeling in the world. But it was also a good feeling.

I couldn't sustain that any longer than two days, however. Homeschool was starting up again, and I needed a couple days to get lesson plans done and the home life in order. And much as I enjoyed living spontaneously for a short time, it felt good to get back to knowing what needed to be done and doing it.

I still wish, however, that I could find a happy medium. That I could find a way to choose one day out of the week, at least, that I am not ruled by the tyranny of the list. Sunday should probably be that day, shouldn't it? Sabbath and all. A day set aside to worship God, not the god of productivity I serve much too much of my week.

Might have to experiment with that . . .

Things That Happen When You Get Old

(Not that 46 is old yet; "old" becomes a more and more relative term the older you get. But when I was 21, I thought 46 was pretty old, and to my teenage daughters, I'm sure 46 is getting up there. And Lord knows, I'm not getting younger. So, to get back to the topic at hand . . . )

THINGS THAT HAPPEN WHEN YOU GET OLD

- Bedtime comes a lot sooner -- and by your own choice.

- The extra weight you gain over the holidays is a lot harder to lose.

- Routine is more appreciated.

- Crowd noise is more annoying.

- Annoyance is harder to hide.

- Technology gets more ridiculously complicated.

- Your deceased parents appear much wiser than they did when you had them around to talk to.

- Cold weather is much less fun.

- Big city drivers get more stupid.

- Hymns grow more beautiful.

- Mornings are significantly stiffer in the joints.

- Sunshine is so much more glorious.

- Years pass more quickly.

- Faults, fears, and failures are harder to hide.

- I become more honest with myself.

- God becomes more obvious to me.

A Eulogy to Saturday Morning Cartoons

I was informed of lamentable news this weekend. ("Lament" is one of my Freshmen's vocabulary words -- glad I chose it -- it's quite useful.) Apparently this past Saturday morning was the first Saturday morning in fifty years where a network television station did not broadcast Saturday morning cartoons.

Saturday morning cartoons are dead. Let us all observe a moment of silence for the end of an era.

Watching cartoons on Saturday morning was a defining characteristic of my childhood years. Every other day of the week, my mother would have to come in and wake me up. But for some reason, on Saturday morning, my body consistently knew when it was almost 7am and woke me up of its own accord. I never overslept.

As I recall, the first show I watched at 7am was the "Laff-a-Lympics" -- a show that had all the various Hanna Barbera cartoon characters divided into three teams (the Scooby Doobies, the Yogi Yahooeys, and the Really Rottens) who competed in Olympic-style events. It was corny, and I loved it.

Another favorite was the Bugs Bunny show (sometimes the Bugs and Daffy show, sometimes the Bugs and Tweety show . . . ) with its catchy theme song: "Overture . . . cut the lights . . . ."  Scooby-Doo, of course, and its later variations with Scrappy Doo and with celebrity guest stars. I still hear the voices of the gang when they recognized this week's celebrity:  "[gasp] It's Mama Cass!" (Yes, Mama Cass was a guest star on a Scooby Doo cartoon. My introduction to the Mamas and the Papas.)

Bill Cosby did Fat Albert, which wasn't one of my favorites, but I still watched it. Another unforgettable theme song, which my husband pulls out and sings once in a while. "Na, na, na -- gonna have a good ti-i-i-ime . . . "

Super Friends, with Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman and Robin, and Aquaman at the Justice League Headquarters. Oh yeah.

Captain Caveman. Jabberjaw. Speed Buggy. Hong Kung Phooey. Grape Ape. Oh, my -- GRAPE APE, people.

There were some live action shows that I like, too. The Harlem Globetrotters show -- with funny bald guy Curly. Isis. Bigfoot and Wild Boy. Electrowoman and Dynagirl (no lie -- I'm sure if I saw the reruns I would be horrified at their awfulness, but I so loved them at the time).

And, of course, the greatest Saturday morning invention of all time: Schoolhouse Rock. Brilliance. I still can't say the Preamble to the Constitution -- I have to sing it. Somebody made Schoolhouse Rock into a stage show, and I heard that when they began, "We the People . . . ," the audience stood and sang along with patriotic tears rolling down their face. I would have done that, too.

Saturday morning was an escape. By the late elementary years, my school weeks were difficult. Successful as I was academically, I felt like a social outcast in school. I didn't feel liked, and I didn't like myself much either. I dragged myself through the week, waiting for the few hours on Saturday morning that I could lose myself in being a kid and forget the pains of growing up.

No more Saturday morning cartoons. My kids feel no loss. Yet I grieve.