True Grit

The fight for what is good and true in our culture has turned contentious. At times, it appears that righteousness is losing. The normal, human reaction is to become despondent, even give up. It’s much easier to go with the flow of conventional wisdom that to “go along to get along” and “do the most good with what you’ve got” is a life well lived. After all, there’s so much fighting for our attention today. To be single-minded is to be irrelevant, or worse yet, a zealot.

Sometimes, though, God uses the humble of the world to focus our attention. Sixty-eight years ago, in Nazi Germany, God used a 21-year old medical student named Sophie Scholl. Her unyielding stand against the entire force of Hitler’s evil serves to remind us even today that what is right is usually not what is expedient.

Somebody, after all, had to make a start.”

Sophie Scholl was a middle child in a middle class family. She had a happy childhood, did well in school, and went to a Lutheran church. Her parents taught all their children that because of God and through Christ’s death, every person has worth and “essential dignity.” Sophie took these tenets to heart, and later, they became the guiding philosophy of her short life.

Like most Germans, Sophie and her brother joined The fight for what is good and true in our culture has turned contentious. At times, it appears that righteousness is losing. The normal, human reaction is to become despondent, even give up. It’s much easier to go with the flow of conventional wisdom that to “go along to get along” and “do the most good with what you’ve got” is a life well lived. After all, there’s so much fighting for our attention today. To be single-minded is to be irrelevant, or worse yet, a zealot.

Sometimes, though, God uses the humble of the world to focus our attention. Sixty-eight years ago, in Nazi Germany, God used a 21-year old medical student named Sophie Scholl. Her unyielding stand against the entire force of Hitler’s evil serves to remind us even today that what is right is usually not what is expedient.

Somebody, after all, had to make a start.”

Sophie Scholl was a middle child in a middle class family. She had a happy childhood, did well in school, and went to a Lutheran church. Her parents taught all their children that because of God and through Christ’s death, every person has worth and “essential dignity.” Sophie took these tenets to heart, and later, they became the guiding philosophy of her short life.

Like most Germans, Sophie and her brother joined Hitler Youth. But unlike most Germans, they came to the realization that the Nazi regime was evil and leading their country to destruction. They simply could not believe that a movement that treated people the way the Nazis did the Jews was a good one. They held up the teachings of the Nazi’s against the teachings their parents, particularly their father, had instilled in them—and found them wanting. They began a peaceful resistance movement called “The White Rose.” They distributed Nazi resistance documents all over university campuses, encouraging Germans to critically think through the Nazi philosophy and resist.

Eventually, Sophie, her brother Hans, and their friend Christoph Probst were caught and brought to trial. She was given several chances to take the pragmatic approach and renounce her resistance so she could live to fight another day. Instead she chose to remain resolute. “Somebody, after all, had to make a start,” she said.

It is not coincidental that the same premise is at the heart of one of our most bitter culture battles today.

“Personhood” is defined by the truly pro-life group Personhood USA as the presence of a particular set of characteristics that grant that individual certain rights such as the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. In other words, to be a person is to be protected by a series of God given and constitutionally protected rights.” In other words, because of God and through Christ’s death, every person has worth and “essential dignity.”

In the United States, the last bastion of “one nation under God,” Personhood supporters have begun their resistance to the blood-thirsty culture of death known by many names: abortion, choice, reproductive rights, population control. Why mince words—let’s call it what it is. Murder.

Personhood is also a resistance against the ultimately anemic attempts of the last 40 years to legislate, compromise, and negotiate with the industry of abortion. Under the guise of good, these attempts have naively legitimized killing babies in the name of waiting periods, late term bans, fetal pain, and parental notification. In the end though, all of this legislation ends with the theoretical words, “Then you can kill the baby.”

Personhood thwarts these attempts by doing what Christian and pro-life activists should have been doing for the last 40 years, stating that all life is given by God, all rights are given by God, and rights and life can only be taken by God. No exceptions.

You know the war is lost. Why don’t you have the courage to face it?”

At her trial, no one spoke in Sophie Scholl’s defense. Her own lawyer, petrified of the Nazi regime and its fierce system resorted to a Pontias Pilate-type deflection: “I can only say fiat justitia. Let justice be done.” No one dared to speak out against the prosecutor, who had been flown in from Berlin to try the three young people.

Except Sophie. At one point, her clear, unshaken voice rose in the courtroom and asked the simple question: “You know the war is lost. Why don’t you have the courage to face it?”

For those of us with a biblical worldview, we know that outcomes are the Lord’s. The ending of the war against evil has already been written: Righteousness will prevail, evil will be cast away forever. How and when that happens is not for us to determine, in fact, even Jesus when he was here on earth said that the day and time of this victory was something only His Father knew. We can rest assured of the victory, but we should not rest now, nor rest comfortably. Now, is the time for us to fight.

It seems that evil is winning the culture war. We slide daily toward more debt, destruction, indifference all the while, the bad guys seem to be getting more powerful, more entrenched, more unbeatable. They are a fierce foe, supported by a supernatural evil that is only limited by a man’s devious human nature. But, even in the face of this, we have our hope in the day of the Lord.

The conundrum comes in the form of those who say they are with us for life, yet continue to chastise those who take the principled stand on personhood. Life and righteousness have already won, but there are those “on our side” who continue to compromise with evil. They refuse to support the legislation that reaffirms that ALL life is sacred, given inalienable rights by God, and is worthy and dignified. They choose instead to take “the sure thing.” Then, they turn and look to the man-made courts, wash their hands, and cry, “Let justice be done.”

Remember Jesus, said her mother.” “Yes. But, you too.”

The three young Germans were convicted and sentenced to be beheaded. Sophie and Hans were allowed one last visit with their parents. Witnesses say that neither Sophie nor her brother shed one tear, even though their parents were devastated. As Sophie was led away from her brief reunion, her mother grabbed her arm and said, “Remember Jesus!” Sophie smiled and her and replied, “Yes. But, you too.”

It’s not enough to send good people to do the fighting in government to take a righteous stand. Those of us left behind have to be vigilant in our support of them and our support for righteousness. One thing Sophie Scholl’s story teaches us, is that parenting is of utmost importance. Imagine what this fight we are in now will look like in 20 years when our children are at the forefront? Are we raising a generation of Sophies? Can our children look to us for the guiding principles of fighting the culture war? Are they learning to stand and fight? As Paul said to the Galatian church, “Be not deceived. God is not mocked. Whatsoever a man sows, that he will reap.” What will be the harvest for the next generation of culture warriors?

How can we expect righteousness to prevail when there is hardly anyone willing to give himself up individually to a righteous cause?”

The day of Sophie’s execution dawned. All who saw her that day described her as calm, steadfast. Her last words before she was lead to the guillotine were:

How can we expect righteousness to prevail when there is hardly anyone willing to give himself up individually to a righteous cause? Such a fine, sunny day, and I have to go, but what does my death matter, if through us thousands of people are awakened and stirred to action?”

At the age of 21, Sophie saw her death as inescapable and necessary. But what’s more, she saw it as a victory. And she was right. The Third Reich was toppled and those who fought in the resistance were anointed as heroes by the subsequent generations. There are squares, streets, and university buildings named after Sophie and Hans, there are movies about her life, and in 2003, she (with Hans) was named as one of top ten most important Germans of all time. But most importantly, she leaves us the legacy of a modern day example of what it means to be truly courageous in the stand for what is right, not what is expedient.

So, to those who have chosen to take the principled stand, thank you. Please don’t be discouraged. You have chosen to be those who “make the start” and “give [yourself] up individually to [this] righteous cause.” You are willing to suffer “death”–political death, career death, friendship death, social standing death—and are still able to consider it a victory. Because of you, others are given the strength to stand for what is right.

 

 

 

Mars Needs Moms . . . and Dads

And so do we.

My kids had early out on Friday the 11th, a perfect way to kick-off spring break week. I had to make good on a promise—because I had never gotten around to taking them to see Megamind in the theaters, they got to choose another movie for me to spend a ridiculous amount to see on a large screen. They chose Mars Needs Moms.

I knew the premise of the movie: little boy’s mom gets whisked away to Mars so he hitches a ride on the spaceship to try to save her. Personally, I think the whole “almost human-looking CGI animation” stuff is downright creepy, but it was the kids’ choice.

It was a fairly predictable movie. I’ll spare you an actual review, but it was cute enough that I didn’t totally regret the money I spent. I understand it’s bombing horribly at the box office. That makes me kind of sad, because it really has some good qualities. At one particularly poignant moment between the boy and his mom I even had tears in my eyes (those of you who know me well are not surprised, I’m sure. I cry at Hallmark commercials).

But, as I walked away from the movie, I was troubled. You see, in the movie, both the Martians and the humans realized how much they needs moms . . . but dads, well, they were an afterthought.

I’ll give the writers credit though—at least the boy had a dad who was actually married to his mom. The movie opens with the dad calling from an airport telling his son he won’t be able to make it home for a special occasion. After that, the dad is not in the picture until the final scene when he returns home and is clueless about the adventures his son and wife have just been through. So, there’s a dad, but he’s pretty much absent due to work.

On Mars, halfway through the movie, we find out the hairy, aboriginal type people dancing around in a giant junkyard are an entire generation of dads who have been relegated to the pit because they were useless—all they wanted to do was hug and have fun. I’m pretty sure I gave a little snort of agreement upon this discovery . . . because I remembered what it was like when I was a stay at home mom with two toddlers who all but threw a parade when daddy came home. But, once I started deconstructing the message a bit in my mind on the way home, I realized how very sad and incidious it really is.

Just like the endless loop of sitcoms where every mom is skinny, powerful, and sharp and every dad is a fat, stupid slob, the message of Mars Needs Moms is strongly matriarchal. Women do the heavy lifting, men are absent, aloof, or ancillary. Unfortunately, this message is played out in large demographics in our culture, including the suburbs. We are bearing the brunt of the reality.

To be fair, the moms portrayed in the movie are good moms, moms who believe in actual discipline combined with unconditional love. Creepiness of the animation aside, I liked the mom in this story. She’s just doing a great job . . . just mostly by herself. And, the extreme of her situation is shown in the Mars part of the story, where the dads have been removed entirely, women are drafted into service of the planet, and “nanny bots” downloaded with good earthly mother wisdom “rear” the “hatchlings.”

Worthless dads, moms away from home, and state-run nannies rearing the kids. Huh. Nah. That would never happen here.

But I digress. Simply put, I was a little ashamed at myself for not catching what the movie was saying right away. Yes, theoretically if there was life on Mars, they would need moms, just like Earth kids do. But,just like Earth kids– they need dads, too.

God bless.

Death of a Mini-Van

Yesterday was a sad day in the Green household. We got the dreaded phone call . . . the one every car owner never wants to experience. “Mrs. Green, this is (fill in the blank auto service). I’m afraid the transmission on your (fill in the blank make/model) will need to be completely replaced. It will cost (fill in the blank with some astronomical amount that takes your breath away).

After hanging up, I sat in stunned silence. I really wanted to react well, you know, be a grown up about it. That lasted for about 10 seconds. Then, with a loud “CRAP!” and a hand slap on the table, I buried my head in my hands and started to cry. Sure, I cried because of the money,  and the inconvenience, and the frustration . . . but I also cried because . . . uh . . . I LIKE my mini-van and I’m gonna miss it!

If this were a movie script, here is where I would insert the [Flashback:10 years prior]. 10 years ago, before I had my first child, I mocked mini-vans. I swore I would never have one. I made fun of the people who drove them. My best friend Jenny and I made up a term: “mini-van brain” to describe the distracted, harried, sometimes erratic way people looked and drove while in mini-vans. (And by the way, for the most part, when I say “people,” I mean “moms.”) Remember on Seinfeld, when Jerry told George that wearing sweatpants in public was like gaining 50 pounds and wearing a sign that says, “I don’t care anymore?” That’s what I thought of mini-vans.

And then I had my first child. After trying to squeeze a big baby into an even bigger-clunkier babyseat carrier , then trying to shoehorn her into the back of my slick little red Mazda, I caught myself considering how life might be easier with a bigger car. Just considering, mind you. I never said it out loud, not even when I bonked her poor little head a few times getting her in and out of the backseat. I was afraid my husband would point at my face, laugh fiendishly, and declare, “I KNEW IT!!” Then, I’d have to do something brazen to reinforce my “non-mini-van type personality” like go out and get plastic surgery or join a country club. So, I stayed quiet.

And then I had my second child. His name is Ben, but it could have been “Bruiser.” He was big, burly, and heavy. Getting him and Piper into the back of the little Mazda proved nigh unto impossible. So, my husband and I switched vehicles. I got his SUV. Sounded great on paper, but it posed a problem in real life. I’m very short–the SUV was very tall. Pushing a two year old, then a child who felt like ten cement blocks in a carseat UP into the backseat about 25 times a day started taking its toll on my back and hips. I started going to see a very nice D.O. who would crack my body back into alignment . . . and suggest I get a different vehicle, “Perhaps a mini-van?”

Laying in bed at night, smarting and sore, I weighed my options . . .  and the pain-filled mini-van-less life came up wanting. In fact, I started praying for  one of ‘em. “Dear God, I’m so sorry about everything nasty I ever said about mini-vans and the women who drive them. I take it all back. Please, God. I want to be one of them. I really, really do. Anything for a low-sitting vehicle with sliding doors. Anything.”

He, in His graciousness, saw fit to provide us a way to purchase our “new-to-us” mini-van, which we promptly titled, “The ninja-turtle van.” (My kids were going through a TMNT stage and the van is green. Just go with it.)

It’s been five years of ease and convenience. I’ve loved my little van. I have not gained 50 pounds, although I am harried, hurried, and wearing sweatpants about 75% of the time I’m driving her. And you know what, I don’t care. The precious little bundles I’m carrying around in her make it all worth it–even when they are fighting, wiping snot on each other, or whining about who got the bigger ice cream cone. I miss her. I’m even crying as I write this. Good grief.

So . . . I’m gonna start making some phone calls. We’re not giving up on ol’ ninja turtle van. I’m going to find someone to fix my friend for a good price. She might not be worth it according to the blue book, but she’s worth it to me.

God bless.

 

Mommy Nearest Part Two

Yesterday, I asked you for your opinion about the role of a mom and why it’s wrong for her to leave her children. I got lots of responses, some here on the blog, some on my Facebook account, some sent directly to me by email. All were very good answers–some were even heartwrenching. One responder told me that she has watched first hand how the cycle of abandonment will perpetuate . . . unfortunately, it took the form of the dissolution of her marriage and her children seeing their father walk away. Years before, he had been “abandoned” himself.

We fool ourselves if we think our actions do not affect our children, their children and spouses, and so on. We are cautioned in the Bible about “the sins of the fathers” being judged for generations to come, but we are also told that blessings will be shown to the generations who love God. To paraphrase the cliche: “No [wo]man is an island!”

You told me in your responses that the role of a mother changes as the children grow, but never goes away. That the selfishness of a mother who would willingly leave her child simply because she doesn’t want to be a mom anymore is unforgivable. It’s an abdication of our responsibility; it’s denying the children the love and support they deserve.

All right and good answers. I’m honored you read and responded.

I told you I would tell you what I think (natch, it IS my blog, right?). It’s pretty simple actually. Several of you touched on it. Why is selfishness, pride, abandonment, and indulgence wrong? Because they go against the nature of our God and Creator. He is selfless, humble, ever-present, and generous . . . so, we are to be as well.

When you were a kid in Sunday school, did you ever hear that the definition of “sin” was “missing the mark?” I did. Did you ever wonder what “the mark” was? I did that, too. I’m kinda surprised I never asked that question either, because I was a bit of a smarty pants. As an adult, I know now that the “mark” is the perfect nature of a holy God. I know we can never be like God while on this earth, but we are to try to be like Him through the regenerating power of Christ.

God selflessly gave us his beloved Son. Christ, as God and man, selflessly gave His life for us. The polar opposite of that is abandoning the God-given and sanctioned role of being a mom so I can “be all I want to be.” That abandonment can be as big as driving 3,000 miles away, or as “small” as complaining to the kids that my “life was so much easier before they came along” (words I have spoken in a fit of anger that I have wished I could take back a million times).

I know our answers are not popular with the culture. Human nature abhors the truth. Ironically, the Truth is exactly what will set us free to be happy, fulfilled, and the “bestest moms in the whole world.” Actually, my son Ben says I  have that title wrapped up, so I guess ya’ll have to settle for second bestest.

Thanks again for your answers. If you have free time (ha!), I highly recommend a little, but powerful, book by Stasi Eldredge called You Are Captivating: Celebrating a Mother’s Heart. It’s been a sharp stick when I need motivation, and a balm when I need comfort.

God bless.

Mommy Nearest Part One

What’s the role of a mom? That’s a loaded question, isn’t it? Have you even seen the one about the mom who, when asked her title, quipped:

“I’m a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations . . . I have a continuing program of research, (what mother doesn’t), in the laboratory and in the field, (normally I would have said indoors and out). I’m working for my Masters, (the whole bloody family), and already have four credits, (all daughters). Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities, (any mother care to disagree.?) and I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it). But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers and the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money.”

I love that.

Speaking from my own experience, being a mom is a difficult job that I don’t always do well. When my children were babies and toddlers, I stayed home with them full time. Some days were wonderful, some days were tolerable, and some days I wanted to run from the house, screaming and ripping out my hair.  I would wait until I heard the blessed sound of the garage door opening, wait until the husband had walked through the door, then I would hand him one or both children, grab the keys and drive away. There were times, yes, I’d admit, I fantasized about not coming back. But, after some window shopping and a latte at the local coffee house, I always came back.

Sunday night, I read an article about two moms who did not come back. I mean, willingly, of their own volition, chose NOT to come back to their children.

Here’s the article: http://shine.yahoo.com/channel/parenting/the-opposite-of-a-tiger-mother-leaving-your-children-behind-2460982/#poll-1599871448EA11E081BDDABF96ECB683. You can read it for yourself, if you’d like. In a nutshell, two moms decided they didn’t want to be moms anymore, so they divorced their husbands and left their children to go fulfill their careers/selves/own desires. They claim their kids are fine and that their relationships with the kids are stronger now that they abandoned left them to grow up to be their own people. 

I think what surprises me the most is that this “choice” is portrayed as a viable one. Then again, I suppose this was the next step, right? We live in a culture that claims killing a child in utero is perfectly acceptable. Logically, leaving them once you’ve had them, but decide you don’t want them anymore makes sense. The line of demarcation has always been whether the child was wanted or not.

Wouldn’t a reasonable person say these women were young when they had their kids! They didn’t know what their dreams for life were. So, here they are faced with this horrible reality that they have to actually raise these children they were “duped” into having by family/society/husband/fate/karma, so they simply do the courageous thing and tap out. That’s right, they just reach on down to the canvas, slap their hands a couple of times and say, “I’m done! No more Mommy for me!” And, they drive away, feeling “mixed . . but relief  . . . and pain.”

Most of you reading this know their “choice” is dead wrong. I know that because, let’s face it, if you’re reading my blog you’re probably my friend or my mom. But let me ask you this: WHY is it wrong?

And let’s stop the gender equality argument before it starts–It’s wrong of BOTH parents, not just moms. It should not be accepted in society for dads to impregnate and walk away. It should not be acceptable or accepted that children are a victim to an adult’s carnal selfishness. Ever.

So, again, I ask, why is this wrong? What about this story makes 28,000 people recommend it on their Facebook pages and over 15,000 comment on it? I’d love to hear your answers. I’ll give you mine tomorrow in “Mommy Nearest Part Two.”

The Truth Hurts

“The truth is tough. It will not break, like a bubble, at a touch … you may kick it about all day, like a football, and it will be round and full at evening —Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.”

I have a guilty pleasure. It’s actually pretty embarrassing, so please don’t tell anyone. Ah, man, I cannot believe I’m gonna spill this. Ok, here goes: I read celebrity and entertainment “news” websites. I really do. In fact, I have a ritual every morning. After I’ve gotten the children off to school, I make my coffee and toast with almond butter (same breakfast, every weekday morning), and I sit down with my laptop. I read all the legitimate news sites, check Facebook, then, I guiltily look around the room to make sure I’m alone and start in on the pulp. I get my fill of who wore what to whatever awards ceremony, who’s breaking up with whom, who’s starring in what, who’s saying nasty things about whomever, then I shut it down.

Phew. I did it. Confession is good for the soul, but probably not my credibility.

A name I normally do NOT find in the celebrity pages is former Governor Mike Huckabee. Charlie Sheen, unfortunately and ubiquitously, yes–Huckabee, no. So I was a bit surprised this morning to see him making headlines on some of my formerly-secret reads. Seems he was on Michael Medved’s radio show recently and he had the audacity to call out Hollywood on something. After Medved commented about Oscar-winning actress Natalie Portman being pregnant but not married (and that sending a bad message), Huckabee continued the conversation with this comment: 

You know Michael,” Huckabee replied, “one of the things that’s troubling is that people see a Natalie Portman or some other Hollywood starlet who boasts of, ‘Hey look, you know, we’re having children, we’re not married, but we’re having these children,’ and they’re doing just fine.

“But there aren’t really a lot of single moms out there who are making millions of dollars every year for being in a movie,” he said.

“And I think it gives a distorted image that yes, not everybody hires nannies, and caretakers, and nurses. Most single moms are very poor, uneducated, can’t get a job, and if it weren’t for government assistance, their kids would be starving to death and never have health care. And that’s the story that we’re not seeing, and it’s unfortunate that we glorify and glamorize the idea of [out-of-wedlock children].”

Read more: http://www.eonline.com/uberblog/b229283_natalie_portman_dissed_by_mike_huckabee.html#ixzz1FdzizcbP

Now, you can read that and decide for yourself if this is an “attack, excoriation, diss, tearing into, or shredding” of Natalie Portman by Mike Huckabee. That’s exactly what the media is calling it. Um, I just don’t see it. As someone who has met Governor Huckabee personally, and has watched him for the last two years, the closest thing I’ve seen as an “attack” from him is the way he campaigned against Mitt Romney or when he goes duck hunting. Other than that, we’re talking a pretty mild man. (I didn’t say weak, I said mild.)

As you’re reading and deciding whether this is an attack, why don’t you then ask yourself if anything he said was untrue?  Do Hollywood starlets boast about having children out of wedlock. Yeah they do. It’s front page news! Do they make millions of dollars for being in movies? Yes. Do they hire nannies? Yes. (Unless it’s Charlie Sheen–he hires goddesses). Are their children hurting in any financial way? No.

He’s three for three so far.

Are there a lot of single moms out there making millions of dollars? No. And that’s according to U.S. Census numbers. Are most single moms poor, can’t get a job, and on government assistance? Well, let’s not take my word on it, let’s take the word of socio-scientists:

Single-parent families face special challenges. One of these is economic. In 2002, twice as many single-parent families earned less than $30,000 per year compared to families with two parents present. . . .

Social scientists have found that children growing up in single-parent families are disadvantaged in other ways when compared to a two-biological-parent families. Many of these problems are directly related to the poor economic condition of single-parent families, not just to parenting style. These children are at risk for the following:

  • lower levels of educational achievement
  • twice as likely to drop out of school
  • more likely to become teen parents
  • more conflict with their parent(s)
  • less supervised by adults
  • more likely to become truants
  • more frequently abuse drugs and alcohol
  • more high-risk sexual behavior
  • more likely to join a gang
  • twice as likely to go to jail
  • four times as likely to need help for emotional and behavioral problems
  • more likely to participate in violent crime
  • more likely to commit suicide
  • twice as likely to get divorced in adulthood

www.healthofchildren.com/S/Single-Parent-Families.html#ixzz1FbIm0ego

So, what’s the problem here? Could it be that the mirror of truth held up by an unassuming man to the mega-colossus of Hollywood might have showed off the cracks, lies, blemishes, and discolorations in their make-up covered, Botox-filled, hairsprayed veneer? Could their over-the-top rhetoric about this “attack and evisceration” hide the painful fact that they know they live in a house of cards? Could it be that their defensiveness belies the fact that the lives they glamorize haven’t brought them the validation, happiness, and peace they crave? 

Could it be the truth hurts?

God bless.

 

The Funny Thing about Being Sick

I’m not necessarily talking funny-ha, ha-although we’ve had plenty of that around here. Since mid-January, we’ve gone through two bouts of the flu, two bouts of strep throat, and one bout of the nasty common cold in this house. During one of those bouts, my son Benjamin  told me I was the best mom in the whole world . . . right before he asked me for a bowl of ice cream. When I told him dairy wasn’t the best thing to eat when he was so congested, he informed me he wasn’t going to eat it with his nose. I thanked him for clarifying that while I handed him a popsicle.

One day after being diagnosed with influenza B, my daughter asked me if she could go outside and ride on her scooter. She was flushed with fever, sneezing, coughing, and could barely swallow. When I looked at her like she was crazy, she croaks, “What? The sun’s out! I need the vitamin D to get better!”

Oy. Who can argue with logic like that?

I can handle the flu and colds. As with most moms, I’m pretty good in a minor-crisis. I’m right on top of the doctor’s appointments, the medicine every four hours, the nice lotion tissues so it doesn’t hurt to blow, the best tasting cough drops,  renting their favorite movies to watch while they sip juice boxes while snuggling on the couch. I can even handle getting up every few hours in the night to check on them, listening for even breathing and taking their temps. I like making them feel as good as they possibly can while they feel so crappy. Does that make sense?

What I’m NOT good at is getting sick myself, and even worse, getting sick while one of my kids is sick. That predicament should be against the law, in my opinion. As I drove away from the doctor’s office after getting my daughter’s diagnosis on Monday, I felt the tell-tale scratchy pain in my throat. “No way,” I thought. “Nu-uh. Nope. I’m not getting sick.” Guess what? I did.  Tuesday found me in my own doctor’s office, testing positive for strep.

So, I was sick. On top of that, I was angry. Angry that my stupid body got sick, angry at the stupid virus for invading my body, angry at the stupid winter for being well, winter, and angry that now, I wasn’t going to be able to take care of my daughter the way I wanted to. As I drove along, being angry and feeling really, really sorry for myself [not to mention, pretty sickly], I realized what I really hated wasn’t being sick . . . it was being out of control.

Yes, the truth comes out. I am a control freak. For the same reason I don’t like flying, I really don’t like being sick. I couldn’t be the mommy with the mostest, swooping in and saving the day, cooking, cleaning, bathing, and making everything better. Instead, I had to be the mommy who was felled by a single cell organism. relegated to lying in bed next to my sickly daughter, watching Spongebob and drinking out of a juice box.

The funny thing is . . .I kind of enjoyed it. No, not sick part–the lying there with my girl, not caring about the laundry, the homework to be made up, dinner, or the gross pile of tissues on the floor next to the bed. Nope, I enjoyed feeling close to Piper, laughing with me at Spongebob, falling asleep on my shoulder,  talking with me about life and stuff. It was pretty wonderful, actually.

And now, she’s better and so am I . The kids are back at school, I’m home doing the stay-at-home-mom thing [read: laundry]. And you know what? I really miss them. Funny thing. 

Oh the Humanity

I sat in a meeting last week with a man who has traveled the world. He regaled us with stories, some funny, some serious. One in particular stuck with me. On on trip to Kenya, he and others helped a local missionary set up a food line in one city for the “street children”–the poor, starving orphans who wander the streets. He noticed that every third or fourth bowl she would hand out, the woman missionary would stick her fingers in the bowl to eat some of the rice before she gave it to a child. He later asked her why. She explained that she must do that to prove to the children that the food is edible. Many locals, she said, poison the children for sport.

I have a very dear doctor friend who regularly travels to Uganda with the non-profit group he and his brother started. They have built a village on land that is the site of a horrendous massacre that took place during the march of the rebel army. He tells us stories of the young women who are now in the school he as built. Young women who started out as mere girls, whisked away by the rebels, raped and impregnated, then left in the bush to fend for themselves. Many of these girls have no where to go with their small children, often because they were forced to kill their own parents to prove their loyalty to the rebels.

In Bangladesh, Cambodia, India, and Afghanistan, a very common form of domestic abuse is acid attacks. Ninety percent of the time, the attacks are by men against women. A young woman named Onima, in Bangladesh, is no longer fit to be married or have children, because her former husband poured battery acid on her genitals. She refused to prostitute herself to make extra money for him.

In Egypt, crowds swarmed Cairo, protesting the 30-year long rule of a man who stole 70 billion dollars from his people, while leaving over forty percent of his country in dire poverty. While they protest, police forces dressed in civilian clothes raided their homes and threw rocks at women and children.

In Libya, people are protesting a propped-up dictator whose claims to fame are his financial support of the killing of Israeli athletes at the 1972 Olympics, Carlos the Jackal, the PLO, the Lockerbie bombing, and Islamic terrorism. He has ruled since 1969. One third of the people in Libya live in poverty, despite the fact their oil profits as a country continue to rise. As they protest, even today, they are fired upon by a military using machine guns, missles, and are even being straiffed by gun planes.

And then there’s Wisconsin, U.S.A. People are truly languishing. Governor Scott Walker wants union workers to accept the same pay as those in the private sector, same benefits as those in the private sector, and same rights as those in the private sector. He has the audacity to ask them to “make do” on salaries that range from $99,996 to $198,500. He claims that just because the state is headed toward a 3.6 billion dollar budget deficit, that union folks have to learn to tighten their belts. His insidious plan to make them have to re-earn and re-bid for their contracts on an annual basis has school teachers courageously walking out of their failing schools, firefighters daring to wave signs in the streets, and union employees daringly accepting  fake “sick passes” so workers can continue to scream obscenities at the Wisconsin legislators while still getting their $50 an hour. The Democrats have left the building in a sign of true solidarity for the union bosses who have lined their re-election pockets for the last 50 years. The Governor refuses to compromise, saying the health of his state is more important than the power of the union. It’s a showdown.

Makes you proud, don’t it? Oh the Humanity.

The Only Constant

Sixth grade was a tough year. I fell out of favor with the cool kids. The smart kids thought I was a flake, and the quiet kids didn’t trust me. I was a kid without a clique. I floated . . . and was insecure and miserable. I wished I was either cool, smart, or quiet–not the spaz that I was. I thought for sure God had made a mistake.

Even though this happened over 25 years ago, I can still remember the pain of it all. My dad saw my pain and gave me a pep talk. “Jenni,” he said, looking up from his books (Dad always studied at the kitchen table), you cannot find happiness in friends. In fact, you can’t find happiness in people at all. There is only one source of happiness. And He is constant.”

I don’t know how I reacted to his talk that day. Most likely I rolled my eyes and skulked away to pout. But parents, your words do sink in. I have thought of this nugget of fatherly wisdom countless times over the course of my life. In fact, I found myself ruminating over it this weekend.

What’s happening in this world right now is scary. The unrest in the Middle East upsets me to the point of making my mouth dry. The union protests in Wisconsin which are now coming to a midwestern state near you (Minnesota, Iowa, Michigan) anger me. To see teachers walk out on their already suffering schools with their already suffering students because their union leaders want more money is the epitome of wanton greed. [Just an aside, if you have not seen the documentary Waiting for Superman, please make it priority to do so! It will add a whole new perspective to these protests.]

Gas prices rising, economy tanking, bipartisan fighting, partisan in-fighting, both nationaly and statewide. There are days when I want to circle the home wagons and not let my family leave the safety of these walls. But, even here we’re not free from conflict. Cars and appliances breaking, time constraints and demands, personality conflicts–it all strkes the home and zaps the life out of a marriage and a family.

And just when my back is against the wall, my defenses are spent, and I’m ready to give in to the despair, my dad’s words come back to me.  He, who is the same yesterday, today, and forever, has seen it all before. He  who is never surprised, is never outwitted or outplayed by the evil in this world, is never asleep, He is still King. And He is our Constant.

So, I take a deep breath and start my day. God bless.

I Am NOT a Good Soccer Mom

First off, my kids don’t play soccer. I think that is largely due to the fact my husband reviles the sport, but also because they really haven’t been exposed to it. No, my kids play basketball. And it’s killing me.

I give you the case of my son. He’s the cutest, funniest kid you’ll ever meet. Let’s just say his athletic skills have not quite, um, emerged yet. Sooo, when he declared he wanted to play organized basketball, my husband and I slid a glance at each other, asked him if he was sure, and reluctantly ponied up the $85. Did I mention he’s six years old? Yah.

What followed was two and a half excrutiating months of sitting on the sideline watching my son ham his way through practices and games. His antics were legendary.  He skipped up the court one way, then ran backwards down the court the other. He played chase with the boy who was guarding him . . . or he hugged him to the ground. He walked the painted line all the way around the court . . . during the game. He repeatedly ran to the sideline and asked the coach how much longer the game was. Or, he decided he was tired and stayed under the basket after his team scored, waiting. When we yelled at him to run down the court, he yelled back, “Don’t worry, Mom! They’re coming back!”

His favorite part of the game was sitting on the bench with his friends. A couple of times he tried to come sit with us in the crowd while he was in the game. He quit that that after my husband, very loudly and in front of all the other parents,  threatened to throw the Xbox in the landfill.

We cheered, we cajoled, we yelled, we begged, we bribed, and we laughed (sometimes with him, but mostly at him).  His big sister couldn’t decide if the whole thing was hilarious or embarrassing. She usually begged to go sit in another part of the gym with the other older brothers and sisters.

It was all very character building–for the parents. It got to the point where we would cheer if he just touched the ball during the game. That happened on the day that he had informed us, “Hey guys, I’m gonna dunk it today.” Cool, Ben. After the game he declared, “Well, I didn’t dunk it, but at least I got to touch it!”

We learned a lot about staying calm, having fun, and being patient. This whole “bleacher parent” thing is a lot harder than I thought. In fact, I believe I’ve suddenly become a very big fan of individual sports. Maybe we’ll sign Ben up for darts camp this summer.