I've been meaning to post a link to this article for some time now. In the end, I have to admit that I enjoyed this piece because the author came around to my way of thinking, but I also appreciated his candor and his willingness to analyze things on their own merits. I wish we could all act this honorably all the time-- myself included.
http://www.villagevoice.com/news/0811,why-i-am-no-longer-a-brain-dead-liberal,374064,1.html
Monday, June 30, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Who reads memoirs, anyway?
Okay, I've been tagged by my friend Angel for a meme; as I told her, I'm a meme virgin, so I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing. I think I'm supposed to come up with a 6 word name for my memoirs (if I were to write them), and then tag 5 people to do the same thing. As far as I'm concerned, this is a Ponzi scheme; it's a blog version of the chain letter, so I refuse to inflict it on anyone else. I will, however, answer the question-- but ONLY because I love Angel and she asked me to.
Okay, Angel, here you go:
I See You Reading My Memoirs.
If ever I am selfish enough to write my own biography, I promise to put more thought into the title.
Okay, Angel, here you go:
I See You Reading My Memoirs.
If ever I am selfish enough to write my own biography, I promise to put more thought into the title.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
The center of God's universe
It was a weekday morning, and I was standing in a checkout line at Walmart. There are never more than a few lanes open at that time of the day, and I had just finished the quick decision-making process: "Okay, this lane has one lady in it with a huge shopping cart full of stuff, and that lane has two people waiting in it, but they only have half as much stuff as this lady; there's another lane open, but it's at the other end of the store." I was kid-free for the morning, and I wasn't in any particular hurry; after a few seconds' deliberation, I got in line behind the one lady with the heaped-up cart.
People came up behind me, doing the same thing: checking out the lanes, making their choices. One lady waited behind me for about five minutes, then switched to another lane. I idly watched the woman in front of me as she loaded her things onto the belt, trying to sort them by categories the way most of us do. She really had an INCREDIBLE amount of stuff in her cart, and it took a while to get everything onto the belt. The cashier was a very young woman who, frankly, wasn't out to get the award for "fastest checker."
As I watched, my mind went over what I needed to do for that day, that week, etc. I looked over my calendar in my wallet; I contemplated last week's sermon. Battered women frequently have overflowing grocery carts because their partner doesn't let them out of the house very often; I did a quick "visual screen," but thankfully this lady didn't have any of the warning signs. I briefly debated whether I should have chosen another lane; it was too late to do anything about it now, of course, but should I have picked another one? I wasn't in any hurry, so it didn't really hurt me to be in the "slow lane," but what did it really benefit me? Maybe I would have gotten done a little faster; maybe God wanted me to get home to catch an important phone call from someone or get cracking on the laundry. I mentally shrugged and briefly smiled at the woman as she finished balancing the last of her grocery bags on top of her cart and paid for her order. She smiled back at me. "Thank you so much for your patience," she said. "I'm sorry I took so long." I said the basic things we all say: "No problem," "Being impatient never solves anything," "I'd have wanted to be treated the same way if I were in your shoes," etc. The cashier chimed into the conversation with little phrases of agreement and nodded her head that grouchy people don't really solve anything. I finished putting the last of my groceries on the belt, thinking, "Well, I had a nice uplifting encounter due to my being in this line, so maybe that was the point of being here."
The lady said goodbye and leaned into her burgeoning cart to get it moving. As the cashier rang up my things and bagged them, she continued to chatter about rude people and how much they screw up your day. Listening to her, I had an epiphany. What if God DID want me to be in that checkout lane-- but not for my benefit? What if I was supposed to be there for OTHER people? What if the point of my decision was to give the people around me a positive experience? Because I was in a genial mood (at that moment, anyway!), I was able to be kind and patient to the lady, who was able to smile on her way out the door. By me being there, God protected the lady from having to deal with rude people behind her; He defended the cashier against snide comments about moving faster. Maybe that helped the cashier be kinder to people during her shift; maybe that enabled the woman with the gargantuan grocery cart to be patient with her kids when they got home from school. I can definitely say that the encounter left me a little more centered for the rest of my day, a little more aware of my purpose in the world-- and very slapped upside the head by how tiny I am in the universe.
I do often think of why God brings certain events and encounters my way; when I'm paying attention, I do notice lessons He's teaching me, gentle rebukes about my behavior or little encouragements for my obedience. I could definitely tell you stories of times I've come away from conversations that I knew God had planned. But I was only aware that God had planned them because of my OWN good feelings about the experience. How many other times have I been a tool of God, but I didn't take note of it because it didn't benefit ME? Like a hammer should care whether it enjoys being used.
Ashamedly, I think this is the first time that I've thought of myself as a tool for someone ELSE'S benefit. There may have been other times in my life where I've been a good witness to someone else, even though I was unaware of it. That day, I was supposed to be in the most inefficient line-- for the woman with eighteen thousand bags of groceries.
People came up behind me, doing the same thing: checking out the lanes, making their choices. One lady waited behind me for about five minutes, then switched to another lane. I idly watched the woman in front of me as she loaded her things onto the belt, trying to sort them by categories the way most of us do. She really had an INCREDIBLE amount of stuff in her cart, and it took a while to get everything onto the belt. The cashier was a very young woman who, frankly, wasn't out to get the award for "fastest checker."
As I watched, my mind went over what I needed to do for that day, that week, etc. I looked over my calendar in my wallet; I contemplated last week's sermon. Battered women frequently have overflowing grocery carts because their partner doesn't let them out of the house very often; I did a quick "visual screen," but thankfully this lady didn't have any of the warning signs. I briefly debated whether I should have chosen another lane; it was too late to do anything about it now, of course, but should I have picked another one? I wasn't in any hurry, so it didn't really hurt me to be in the "slow lane," but what did it really benefit me? Maybe I would have gotten done a little faster; maybe God wanted me to get home to catch an important phone call from someone or get cracking on the laundry. I mentally shrugged and briefly smiled at the woman as she finished balancing the last of her grocery bags on top of her cart and paid for her order. She smiled back at me. "Thank you so much for your patience," she said. "I'm sorry I took so long." I said the basic things we all say: "No problem," "Being impatient never solves anything," "I'd have wanted to be treated the same way if I were in your shoes," etc. The cashier chimed into the conversation with little phrases of agreement and nodded her head that grouchy people don't really solve anything. I finished putting the last of my groceries on the belt, thinking, "Well, I had a nice uplifting encounter due to my being in this line, so maybe that was the point of being here."
The lady said goodbye and leaned into her burgeoning cart to get it moving. As the cashier rang up my things and bagged them, she continued to chatter about rude people and how much they screw up your day. Listening to her, I had an epiphany. What if God DID want me to be in that checkout lane-- but not for my benefit? What if I was supposed to be there for OTHER people? What if the point of my decision was to give the people around me a positive experience? Because I was in a genial mood (at that moment, anyway!), I was able to be kind and patient to the lady, who was able to smile on her way out the door. By me being there, God protected the lady from having to deal with rude people behind her; He defended the cashier against snide comments about moving faster. Maybe that helped the cashier be kinder to people during her shift; maybe that enabled the woman with the gargantuan grocery cart to be patient with her kids when they got home from school. I can definitely say that the encounter left me a little more centered for the rest of my day, a little more aware of my purpose in the world-- and very slapped upside the head by how tiny I am in the universe.
I do often think of why God brings certain events and encounters my way; when I'm paying attention, I do notice lessons He's teaching me, gentle rebukes about my behavior or little encouragements for my obedience. I could definitely tell you stories of times I've come away from conversations that I knew God had planned. But I was only aware that God had planned them because of my OWN good feelings about the experience. How many other times have I been a tool of God, but I didn't take note of it because it didn't benefit ME? Like a hammer should care whether it enjoys being used.
Ashamedly, I think this is the first time that I've thought of myself as a tool for someone ELSE'S benefit. There may have been other times in my life where I've been a good witness to someone else, even though I was unaware of it. That day, I was supposed to be in the most inefficient line-- for the woman with eighteen thousand bags of groceries.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Spring cleaning-- on the inside
Spring time brings spring cleaning, and it’s definitely time for that in my house!
When I had my first apartment, I was obsessed with keeping it clean. I don’t mean just making it LOOK clean. I wanted it to BE clean, even on the molecular level: a biohazard-free zone, a place the bubble boy could live if he wanted to. I was convinced that decontaminating my living space was possible. I wore out many a sponge scrubbing with Lysol and Clorox, determined to be able to claim that my apartment was certifiably free of every possible evil germ.
And then I read an article from a team of molecular biologists and chemists, who had proven that the only way to rid your house of every pathogen was to pour bleach over everything and then set it on fire. “We’re not telling you not to clean; using disinfectants definitely reduces the risk of disease and food-borne illness,” the article read. “Just don’t kid yourself that you can rid your house of every bad bacteria and virus. It’s not realistically possible.” Can you guess how quickly I cut back on my cleaning regimen? I still use my Lysol, but I don’t waste my time scrubbing until my elbows crack anymore. Now I just worry about appearances; as long as there’s no sticky juice rings or cracker crumbs, I’m happy. Everything just has to be clean ENOUGH to fool my guests. I’m sure you know what I’m saying.
Ironically, my current attitude about cleaning is the exact opposite of the attitude I need to have about rearing my children. Instead of worrying about how my children appear to the rest of the world (Do they have clean clothes and faces? Do they know their ABC’s?), I need to be concerned with heart change, with growth and development at the spiritual “molecular” level. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t want my kids to be unkempt, and I want them to have a good education. But I can waste time trying to make my children APPEAR smart and well-behaved, or I can prayerfully search for ways to produce godly children that know how to fight off spiritual “germs.” I’ve seen impeccably dressed, polite, straight-A students tell bold-faced lies to their parents, and I’ve seen unimpressive kids with poor reading skills take care of AIDS babies. I don’t want my kids to just APPEAR to be good kids; I don’t want them to simply live up to earthly expectations. I want my kids to be like Jesus.
Who’s up for some spring cleaning?
“The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”
I Samuel 16:7
When I had my first apartment, I was obsessed with keeping it clean. I don’t mean just making it LOOK clean. I wanted it to BE clean, even on the molecular level: a biohazard-free zone, a place the bubble boy could live if he wanted to. I was convinced that decontaminating my living space was possible. I wore out many a sponge scrubbing with Lysol and Clorox, determined to be able to claim that my apartment was certifiably free of every possible evil germ.
And then I read an article from a team of molecular biologists and chemists, who had proven that the only way to rid your house of every pathogen was to pour bleach over everything and then set it on fire. “We’re not telling you not to clean; using disinfectants definitely reduces the risk of disease and food-borne illness,” the article read. “Just don’t kid yourself that you can rid your house of every bad bacteria and virus. It’s not realistically possible.” Can you guess how quickly I cut back on my cleaning regimen? I still use my Lysol, but I don’t waste my time scrubbing until my elbows crack anymore. Now I just worry about appearances; as long as there’s no sticky juice rings or cracker crumbs, I’m happy. Everything just has to be clean ENOUGH to fool my guests. I’m sure you know what I’m saying.
Ironically, my current attitude about cleaning is the exact opposite of the attitude I need to have about rearing my children. Instead of worrying about how my children appear to the rest of the world (Do they have clean clothes and faces? Do they know their ABC’s?), I need to be concerned with heart change, with growth and development at the spiritual “molecular” level. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t want my kids to be unkempt, and I want them to have a good education. But I can waste time trying to make my children APPEAR smart and well-behaved, or I can prayerfully search for ways to produce godly children that know how to fight off spiritual “germs.” I’ve seen impeccably dressed, polite, straight-A students tell bold-faced lies to their parents, and I’ve seen unimpressive kids with poor reading skills take care of AIDS babies. I don’t want my kids to just APPEAR to be good kids; I don’t want them to simply live up to earthly expectations. I want my kids to be like Jesus.
Who’s up for some spring cleaning?
“The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”
I Samuel 16:7
Thursday, February 21, 2008
What's it worth to you?
How do you determine if a project is worth what you put into it? How do you know if a certain activity in your life is worthy of the energy and time you give to it? Where is the balance, where is the scale where you put your loss of health and family time on one side and your magnum opus, your great work on the other?
P.J O'Rourke once wrote about the gift that Mozart had given to the world. He said we'd never know if his devotion to his work ever cost his family too much; we'll never know if there were negative effects on his kids because he worked himself to death writing the Requiem. We'll never know if Sir Isaac Newton's children grew up sad and neglected, shortchanged because of their father's addiction to being lazy and sitting under fruit trees. O'Rourke was being facetious, of course, and his opinion was that the world's greatest works in science and culture were worth a few neglected kids with father issues. Me, I'm not so sure if that's true.
We see it on TV shows and in books all the time. A cop is devoted, sold out to his (or her) job, never sleeping or going home until the criminal is caught... and he's divorced because he's never home. A woman devotes herself to being on neighborhood watch to rid her community of drug dealers, and loses her job and her family in the process. They're hometown heroes, people with awards of appreciation from their local governments and charity organizations-- but they screwed over their families.
In the book This Present Darkness by Frank Peretti, a man finds himself fighting against some evil things going on in his hometown. It takes more and more of his energy and time, until the following conversation happens with his wife:
"Kate, you've no idea how big this thing is."
She shook her head. She didn't want to hear it. "That's not at issue here. As a matter of fact, I'm sure it is big, it is extremely important, and it probably does warrant the amount of time and energy you've put into it. But what I am coping with now is the detriment that this whole thing has been to this family."
Maybe you have a vision for a charity in your town-- a non-profit daycare for moms, a crisis pregnancy center, a teen center-- and you transform your community, but you lose the respect of your children. Maybe you're a gifted national speaker, a pastor, a teacher, and you travel the world teaching and encouraging others... and your wife barely nods when you return home. Maybe you're a doctor, and you believe you've found the cure for cancer; you work days and weeks and months, sleeping in the clinic, until the answer is found-- and you return home to share the news with an empty house.
Maybe it's nothing that drastic or huge. Maybe you're the one friends always turn to for help; you're often on the phone or in the car, delivering meals or comforting the bereaved. Your family loves you, but your kids know better than to ask you to play a board game because you never have time, and your husband knows to grab fast food on the way home from work; he doesn't even bother to ask what's for dinner anymore. Or you're running a great program at your church (teens, kids, music, discipleship, etc.), but it's taken its toll. You're home most of the time, but you're not really present. People are being blessed and helped because of you, but your family is taking their lumps because of it. Maybe you're a great blogger-- people love your inspirations, your thoughts. You're encouraged and comforted by what people say in response to your writing, you feel connected to others in the world-- but your house is a wreck, you've never met your REAL neighbors, and you're already regretting that you never seemed to have time to teach your kids how to play pat-a-cake or sing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider."
One of the issues here, of course, is that often the desire to excel at work or in a community program is driven by how satisfying it is. Some people work long hours because they need to (most of the people in my grandparents' generation, my father, my friend's brother-in-law). Some people work long hours because they are workaholics (my mother, many of my friends' fathers). The people in this second group derive solid feelings of completion and satisfaction from what they do; their fulfillment on the job is very real for them. The decision to leave work and go home is often a sacrifice for them, even if they have peaceful home lives-- it's tough for them, because they love what they do. It almost seems backwards to them: "Go home and concentrate on your top priorities, even though they don't FEEL like your top priorities and they really don't come that naturally to you and you'll spend the whole evening trying not to think about that business proposal on your desk."
I'm not trying to make an argument for the whole "Brainless Betty" thing from the 50's, where a woman shouldn't find fulfillment anywhere but home, or that men shouldn't be finding ways to connect meaningfully. I'm not saying that God doesn't put ambitions and dreams in us to make our communities better, or that He doesn't call us to outreach. I'm just saying, how much is too much? How many hours of service can you do without making your first commitments suffer? And is that answer the same for every person in the world? And how many great "servants" of this world actually should have been unknowns, unseen heroes that gave more to their families? How many great biographies in this world have been written about people that God would count as huge failures in the spouse/parent department?
P.J O'Rourke once wrote about the gift that Mozart had given to the world. He said we'd never know if his devotion to his work ever cost his family too much; we'll never know if there were negative effects on his kids because he worked himself to death writing the Requiem. We'll never know if Sir Isaac Newton's children grew up sad and neglected, shortchanged because of their father's addiction to being lazy and sitting under fruit trees. O'Rourke was being facetious, of course, and his opinion was that the world's greatest works in science and culture were worth a few neglected kids with father issues. Me, I'm not so sure if that's true.
We see it on TV shows and in books all the time. A cop is devoted, sold out to his (or her) job, never sleeping or going home until the criminal is caught... and he's divorced because he's never home. A woman devotes herself to being on neighborhood watch to rid her community of drug dealers, and loses her job and her family in the process. They're hometown heroes, people with awards of appreciation from their local governments and charity organizations-- but they screwed over their families.
In the book This Present Darkness by Frank Peretti, a man finds himself fighting against some evil things going on in his hometown. It takes more and more of his energy and time, until the following conversation happens with his wife:
"Kate, you've no idea how big this thing is."
She shook her head. She didn't want to hear it. "That's not at issue here. As a matter of fact, I'm sure it is big, it is extremely important, and it probably does warrant the amount of time and energy you've put into it. But what I am coping with now is the detriment that this whole thing has been to this family."
Maybe you have a vision for a charity in your town-- a non-profit daycare for moms, a crisis pregnancy center, a teen center-- and you transform your community, but you lose the respect of your children. Maybe you're a gifted national speaker, a pastor, a teacher, and you travel the world teaching and encouraging others... and your wife barely nods when you return home. Maybe you're a doctor, and you believe you've found the cure for cancer; you work days and weeks and months, sleeping in the clinic, until the answer is found-- and you return home to share the news with an empty house.
Maybe it's nothing that drastic or huge. Maybe you're the one friends always turn to for help; you're often on the phone or in the car, delivering meals or comforting the bereaved. Your family loves you, but your kids know better than to ask you to play a board game because you never have time, and your husband knows to grab fast food on the way home from work; he doesn't even bother to ask what's for dinner anymore. Or you're running a great program at your church (teens, kids, music, discipleship, etc.), but it's taken its toll. You're home most of the time, but you're not really present. People are being blessed and helped because of you, but your family is taking their lumps because of it. Maybe you're a great blogger-- people love your inspirations, your thoughts. You're encouraged and comforted by what people say in response to your writing, you feel connected to others in the world-- but your house is a wreck, you've never met your REAL neighbors, and you're already regretting that you never seemed to have time to teach your kids how to play pat-a-cake or sing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider."
One of the issues here, of course, is that often the desire to excel at work or in a community program is driven by how satisfying it is. Some people work long hours because they need to (most of the people in my grandparents' generation, my father, my friend's brother-in-law). Some people work long hours because they are workaholics (my mother, many of my friends' fathers). The people in this second group derive solid feelings of completion and satisfaction from what they do; their fulfillment on the job is very real for them. The decision to leave work and go home is often a sacrifice for them, even if they have peaceful home lives-- it's tough for them, because they love what they do. It almost seems backwards to them: "Go home and concentrate on your top priorities, even though they don't FEEL like your top priorities and they really don't come that naturally to you and you'll spend the whole evening trying not to think about that business proposal on your desk."
I'm not trying to make an argument for the whole "Brainless Betty" thing from the 50's, where a woman shouldn't find fulfillment anywhere but home, or that men shouldn't be finding ways to connect meaningfully. I'm not saying that God doesn't put ambitions and dreams in us to make our communities better, or that He doesn't call us to outreach. I'm just saying, how much is too much? How many hours of service can you do without making your first commitments suffer? And is that answer the same for every person in the world? And how many great "servants" of this world actually should have been unknowns, unseen heroes that gave more to their families? How many great biographies in this world have been written about people that God would count as huge failures in the spouse/parent department?
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Beauty is useless
How many beautiful people do you know that are happily married? I don't just mean attractive people. I really don't think I have any friends that are homely. All my friends are pretty. And most of them are happy. Or if they're not, it has nothing to do with how they look. Which is my point: how many famously beautiful people really have enviable lives? I'm talking about beyond pretty; the famous people we all wish we were, with the fabulous chest and the cellulite-free thighs, the gorgeous hair, the perfect skin. Audrey Hepburn, Ingrid Bergman, Grace Kelly-- all the stunning women of movies past had unhappy love lives. Robin Wright just split from Sean Penn. I guess Catherine Zeta-Jones is happy, but she's the only one I can think of that IS.
So here's the point: while beauty might be a good tool to ATTRACT people, or fame, it really doesn't help you get the things that matter. Thankfully for me!
So here's the point: while beauty might be a good tool to ATTRACT people, or fame, it really doesn't help you get the things that matter. Thankfully for me!
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Kids and birthday parties
So our oldest child is now in school, and I have reached one of the dreaded rites of passage: attending birthday parties for classmates. Who thought up this idea? It's not like kids at this age have a really great sense of what makes for good friends; they just kind of play with whoever's there, right? So chances are when your kindergartener gets invited to a party for someone else in the class, they probably won't care about the party for the sake of the other kid. They'll just want to go for the entertainment and the food. I'm not sure I want to instill that sort of thinking in my children. And then there's the whole present thing. I now have to go out and buy a present for a child that I don't know at all, and I don't have any sort of connection with the parents. And because of our tight finances, I usually find myself in the ironic position of struggling to buy a gift for a child whose parents make several times what we do. There is no way in the world I can buy anything that they can't buy for him/her, if he/she doesn't already have it. The amount of money I am inclined to spend (as well as what our tight budget allows me to spend) probably equals what some of these kids get in pocket money. They're not going to give a rip about what we give them. And they're not going to be mature enough to care about who the gift came from, or the thought that went into it. We've all been to these parties before, right? They don't look at the cards, they don't even really look at the presents. They just rip, as fast as they can, while the parents (usually the mother) tries to instill some sort of on-the-fly etiquette into the child. "That robot was from Billy; say thank you to him!" The child usually responds with a mumbled thank you in no particular direction with no eye contact. And the location is always a big issue. It's got to be big, and impressive, and entertaining, because you don't want all your kid's schoolmates to whine about how boring the place is. So you end up blowing a wad to entertain a bunch of strangers and set a precedent for the other parents: now THEIR child's party has to be AT LEAST as exciting as yours.
I realize that was a major gripe session, and I apologize for coming across that harsh. Not all parties turn out this way; not all parents throw parties as a sign of social status. I've actually been to one party this year that was pretty decent, and I understand why parents want to do them. I just wish everyone would really THINK about what they're doing before they do it. Quit doing stuff because you think you're socially obligated or because you want to show off your money; just show your kids you love them and you want them to enjoy their birthdays.
I realize that was a major gripe session, and I apologize for coming across that harsh. Not all parties turn out this way; not all parents throw parties as a sign of social status. I've actually been to one party this year that was pretty decent, and I understand why parents want to do them. I just wish everyone would really THINK about what they're doing before they do it. Quit doing stuff because you think you're socially obligated or because you want to show off your money; just show your kids you love them and you want them to enjoy their birthdays.
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