"I try to encourage young mothers I see in the store," she said confidently. I responded with a nod, saying, "Most parents can always use encouragement." "Oh, I know! I always encourage them by telling them 'The years go by so fast-- enjoy every moment.' " I cringed and bit my tongue.
Since beginning my own parenting journey, this word of advice has been, far and away, the most unsolicited sentiment lobbed at me from well-meaning individuals long removed from the daily presence of a toddler. Dear friend, can we be real for a few minutes here?
There is no season of life or circumstance, however great, that is going to carry second-by-second elation. Maybe you're in your dream job in your dream house with your dream family and dream dog-- you will not enjoy every second of it. Life does not happen in a bubble because we are flawed individuals who are surrounded by other flawed individuals living in a flawed world.
I love being a mom and enjoy much of it. Watching my toddler's sense of humor and language and personality grow by the day is fascinating. Observing a child, who only 18 months ago couldn't even hold her head up on her own, enjoy reading books and solve problems is truly amazing. This is the picture that the well-meaning "enjoy every moment" folks undoubtedly have in mind.
Somehow, time seems to have zapped the other half of the parenting picture from their memories: The times when that budding sense of humor is replaced with a language-limited, very opinionated, and passionate tiny person who whines loudly and makes her body limp to slide out of your arms in a busy parking lot. Or the times when the world is on the verge of ending because the hoarse-voiced parent has read the same book twelve times instead of the required thirteen. Or the times that the dogs' water bowl is emptied on to the floor for the fourth time during dinner prep. Or the times when the stuffed animals are found swimming in the toilet and then demanded shortly after at bedtime. Or when a whole day's nutrition comes solely from fistfuls of goldfish crackers. Ya'll, it's hard to enjoy these moments... and these are not rare moments.
In moments where I find myself sighing and turning on yet one more YouTube video of Cookie Monster's rendition of "Baby Shark" just so I can sit down for 150 seconds, the temptation can creep in, "Years go by fast! You're not loving every second of this! One day soon you're going to regret this wasted time! Enjoy! Enjoy! Enjoy!" Parenthood, like any other job, is not a Utopia. Yes, it is totally rewarding and filled with joy, but it's also exhausting, full of extreme highs and lows, and, often, lonely. And there's so much at stake-- of which we're all keenly aware.
If you truly want to encourage a parent with young children, allow them to be real with their struggles during this stage of life. Offer to watch the "precious little cherub" so they can take a nap. Take an interest in them as a person by remembering that they might have other things they might want to talk about aside from their child. Buy them a coffee or wine or a massage. Or if nothing else, a hug and non-judgmental smile don't cost a thing. If you're a parent on the other side of this, we DO need you, your encouragement, and your seasoned wisdom... without the unrealistic platitudes.
12.14.2018
Gratitude of Mess
For the pile of books scattered about the nursery room floor, I am grateful.
It means my toddler enjoyed sitting quietly reading to herself.
For the endless dirty diapers, I am grateful.
They indicate that, despite the dinner battles, my daughter is nourished.
For the dog fur tumbleweeds and muddy paw-prints on the floor, I am grateful.
They remind me that a fun house doesn't have to be a pristine one.
For the containers and lids that once were neatly organized but now teeter haphazardly in the cabinet, I am grateful.
The disorganization is evidence of an excited child's exploration of her world.
For the tired back and sore feet, I am grateful.
It means I have been blessed with a full day of activity.
For the to-do list still uncompleted, I am grateful.
It means I played with my little girl, whose days with me seem so long, but are fleeting.
For days like this when I am able to have a heart of thankfulness, I am grateful.
I fail to recognize life's messiness as a blessing on so many other days.
It means my toddler enjoyed sitting quietly reading to herself.
For the endless dirty diapers, I am grateful.
They indicate that, despite the dinner battles, my daughter is nourished.
For the dog fur tumbleweeds and muddy paw-prints on the floor, I am grateful.
They remind me that a fun house doesn't have to be a pristine one.
For the containers and lids that once were neatly organized but now teeter haphazardly in the cabinet, I am grateful.
The disorganization is evidence of an excited child's exploration of her world.
For the tired back and sore feet, I am grateful.
It means I have been blessed with a full day of activity.
For the to-do list still uncompleted, I am grateful.
It means I played with my little girl, whose days with me seem so long, but are fleeting.
For days like this when I am able to have a heart of thankfulness, I am grateful.
I fail to recognize life's messiness as a blessing on so many other days.
11.30.2018
Santa Won't Be Shimmying Down Our Chimney
Unlike most of my peers, I did not grow up believing in Santa Claus. He was never a real or magical character in our house. I have never mailed Santa a letter (although as an assignment during elementary school, I had to write Santa a letter and felt very silly writing to a make-believe person). I've never sat on a kindly old bearded stranger's lap and told him of my wish list. Never have I ever feared receiving coal in my stocking.
As I've been pondering what I want holiday traditions in my own house to look like, I default, as I think many of us do, to what is familiar. I have assumed, without giving a tremendous amount of thought as to why, I wouldn't teach my children about Santa. Until this week, the passing reasons for this were that, 1) I don't want to lie to my children-- not even about whimsical fictitious characters (Santa, Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, and certainly not that creepy ol' Elf on the Shelf), and 2) I didn't grow up believing in any of them.
But recently, I've evaluated why I am uncomfortable with the idea of instilling in my children a belief about Santa Claus. I do not judge or snub my nose at parents who choose differently. I don't have the "right" way. I do think, however, that it's important to challenge our own ways of thinking. Tradition for tradition's sake isn't a good enough reason TO do something... or to NOT do something.
Here's what I've come up with: I don't want to bring Santa into my children's Christmas traditions because the commercial ideas surrounding this jolly old soul are completely opposite of the real, true focus of Christmas. No, I don't think Santa is evil and I'm not a "all things secular are synonymous with raging war on Christmas" individual. Slow down. Hear me out.
With Santa, you gain access to him once a year;
with Christ, His presence is always with us.
With Santa, you tell him what fleeting thing you want each year;
with Christ, He knows your greatest need before you even ask.
With Santa, if you behave, you are entitled to presents;
with Jesus, there is nothing you can do to earn the gift of salvation.
With Santa, you act nicely in order to receive;
with Jesus, you receive and then respond in overflowing grateful devotion and obedience.
With Santa, you receive gifts if you're good;
with Jesus, you receive the ultimate gift because you aren't good. .
With Santa, he comes to bring presents;
with Christ, His life was the present.
Isn't one of these two characters infinitely much more magnificent? I don't want to spend precious moments of the few advent seasons I have with my little one focusing on a fable... when Christ's birth and life is so much richer.
As we progress through this month, I challenge you (and myself) to consider meaning and purpose in your celebrations rather than going through the rote motions. Our enjoyment of this season will be deeper and richer for it.
As I've been pondering what I want holiday traditions in my own house to look like, I default, as I think many of us do, to what is familiar. I have assumed, without giving a tremendous amount of thought as to why, I wouldn't teach my children about Santa. Until this week, the passing reasons for this were that, 1) I don't want to lie to my children-- not even about whimsical fictitious characters (Santa, Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, and certainly not that creepy ol' Elf on the Shelf), and 2) I didn't grow up believing in any of them.
But recently, I've evaluated why I am uncomfortable with the idea of instilling in my children a belief about Santa Claus. I do not judge or snub my nose at parents who choose differently. I don't have the "right" way. I do think, however, that it's important to challenge our own ways of thinking. Tradition for tradition's sake isn't a good enough reason TO do something... or to NOT do something.
Here's what I've come up with: I don't want to bring Santa into my children's Christmas traditions because the commercial ideas surrounding this jolly old soul are completely opposite of the real, true focus of Christmas. No, I don't think Santa is evil and I'm not a "all things secular are synonymous with raging war on Christmas" individual. Slow down. Hear me out.
With Santa, you gain access to him once a year;
with Christ, His presence is always with us.
With Santa, you tell him what fleeting thing you want each year;
with Christ, He knows your greatest need before you even ask.
With Santa, if you behave, you are entitled to presents;
with Jesus, there is nothing you can do to earn the gift of salvation.
With Santa, you act nicely in order to receive;
with Jesus, you receive and then respond in overflowing grateful devotion and obedience.
With Santa, you receive gifts if you're good;
with Jesus, you receive the ultimate gift because you aren't good. .
With Santa, he comes to bring presents;
with Christ, His life was the present.
Isn't one of these two characters infinitely much more magnificent? I don't want to spend precious moments of the few advent seasons I have with my little one focusing on a fable... when Christ's birth and life is so much richer.
As we progress through this month, I challenge you (and myself) to consider meaning and purpose in your celebrations rather than going through the rote motions. Our enjoyment of this season will be deeper and richer for it.
11.19.2018
You Don't Need a Party Hat to Eat Cheesecake (Recipe Included)
It annoys me to no end when it takes me 10 minutes to scrolls past a food blogger's life story to get to the stupid recipe, so I'm not going to do that to you. If you care to hear me carry on about the silly thing, I shall do so after the recipe.
For the rest of you who have better things to do with your day... you're welcome.
Crust:
2 C fine crumbs Pumpkin Spice Frosted Flakes (roughly 5 C whole), or regular plus and a bit of Pumpkin Pie Spice
1 C fine crumbs Crispix
3+ T unsalted butter, melted
Preheat oven to 350. Pulverize the cereal in a food processor until very fine. Mix in the butter (If the mixture doesn't stick together when you pinch it, add a T more of melted butter). Press into bottom 8x8 square pan and slightly up the sides. Pop that baby in the oven for 5 minutes. Cool.
Caramel:
1 C sugar
5 T unsalted butter, room temperature
1/2 C sour cream, room temperature
In saucepan, melt the sugar over lowish heat. Stir frequently. After a while, it will start to melt. Keep stirring until all of the sugar clumps are liquidy and it's a gorgeous amber color. Cut the butter into about 8 small clumps and gradually add them in. Keep stirring and adding until all the butter has been incorporated. Remove the pan from the heat and gradually add the sour cream. Voila! Caramel sauce! Let it cool for a few minutes in a glass bowl.
Apples:
2 large apples (I used gala because that's basically all I buy), or 3 medium/smallish apples
1 1/2 T brown sugar
1 T unsalted butter
Heat cast iron skillet on low heat. While it's warming, peel your apples and cut into small chunks (bigger than a dice). Toss the apples, sugar, and butter into the skillet and stir. Stir occasionally and cook until apples are slightly darker, soft, and smell radiant.
Walnuts:
1/3 C walnut pieces
1 T sugar
2 t unsalted butter
In skillet, heat ingredients together, stirring constantly, until sugar has melted and coated the walnuts. Spread out on sheet of wax paper and let cool. Resist urge to just eat them all.
Filling:
18 oz cream cheese, room temperature
1 T sour cream
2 large eggs (or 3 egg yolks if you've got 'em lying around)
2ish T brown sugar
1 t vanilla
1/4 t cinnamon
Beat cream cheese and sour cream in mixer until smooth and creamy. Add eggs and beat until incorporated. Add brown sugar (more to taste if you like it sweeter), vanilla, and cinnamon.
Cheesecake, assemble!! On top of cooled crust, pour thin layer of caramel and spread with the back of a spoon-- just enough to cover all of the crust. Tilt and turn to make sure it gets to all edges and corner. Sprinkle some of apple chunks over the caramel. Add about 1 T of caramel into the cream cheese and pour 2/3 filling evenly over top (you may need to spread around into pan with spatula. Reserve 1 T of caramel, but pour the rest into the remaining 1/3 filling and mix (do not scrape out caramel container yet). Add remaining apples to mixture and spread onto pan.
Take reserved T of caramel and drizzle over filling. In the bowl that held the caramel, toss the walnuts in and stir to coat in what's left of the caramel. Sprinkle around pan. Put cheesecake in the over until set, about 45-50 minutes. Cool completely and refrigerate for several hours until chilled.
For the rest of you who have better things to do with your day... you're welcome.
Caramel Apple Cheesecake
 |
| Behold. The No-Special-Occasion Caramel Apple Cheesecake. |
Crust:
2 C fine crumbs Pumpkin Spice Frosted Flakes (roughly 5 C whole), or regular plus and a bit of Pumpkin Pie Spice
1 C fine crumbs Crispix
3+ T unsalted butter, melted
Preheat oven to 350. Pulverize the cereal in a food processor until very fine. Mix in the butter (If the mixture doesn't stick together when you pinch it, add a T more of melted butter). Press into bottom 8x8 square pan and slightly up the sides. Pop that baby in the oven for 5 minutes. Cool.
Caramel:
1 C sugar
5 T unsalted butter, room temperature
1/2 C sour cream, room temperature
In saucepan, melt the sugar over lowish heat. Stir frequently. After a while, it will start to melt. Keep stirring until all of the sugar clumps are liquidy and it's a gorgeous amber color. Cut the butter into about 8 small clumps and gradually add them in. Keep stirring and adding until all the butter has been incorporated. Remove the pan from the heat and gradually add the sour cream. Voila! Caramel sauce! Let it cool for a few minutes in a glass bowl.
Apples:
2 large apples (I used gala because that's basically all I buy), or 3 medium/smallish apples
1 1/2 T brown sugar
1 T unsalted butter
Heat cast iron skillet on low heat. While it's warming, peel your apples and cut into small chunks (bigger than a dice). Toss the apples, sugar, and butter into the skillet and stir. Stir occasionally and cook until apples are slightly darker, soft, and smell radiant.
Walnuts:
1/3 C walnut pieces
1 T sugar
2 t unsalted butter
In skillet, heat ingredients together, stirring constantly, until sugar has melted and coated the walnuts. Spread out on sheet of wax paper and let cool. Resist urge to just eat them all.
Filling:
18 oz cream cheese, room temperature
1 T sour cream
2 large eggs (or 3 egg yolks if you've got 'em lying around)
2ish T brown sugar
1 t vanilla
1/4 t cinnamon
Beat cream cheese and sour cream in mixer until smooth and creamy. Add eggs and beat until incorporated. Add brown sugar (more to taste if you like it sweeter), vanilla, and cinnamon.
Cheesecake, assemble!! On top of cooled crust, pour thin layer of caramel and spread with the back of a spoon-- just enough to cover all of the crust. Tilt and turn to make sure it gets to all edges and corner. Sprinkle some of apple chunks over the caramel. Add about 1 T of caramel into the cream cheese and pour 2/3 filling evenly over top (you may need to spread around into pan with spatula. Reserve 1 T of caramel, but pour the rest into the remaining 1/3 filling and mix (do not scrape out caramel container yet). Add remaining apples to mixture and spread onto pan. Take reserved T of caramel and drizzle over filling. In the bowl that held the caramel, toss the walnuts in and stir to coat in what's left of the caramel. Sprinkle around pan. Put cheesecake in the over until set, about 45-50 minutes. Cool completely and refrigerate for several hours until chilled.
* * *
You made it! Hopefully, by now you're enjoying the fruits of your labor and the kitchen fairy has taken care of the mountain of dirty dishes that this recipe amassed. (Sorry about that). Cheesecake is a funny thing. It's one of those desserts that seems to carry with it this ridiculous notion that you need a special occasion to partake in one. That's nonsense. Side note: It's also one of those things that some dessert snobs tend to think a plain New York Style Cheesecake is the best there is. Those people are wrong. I'd take one banging Pumpkin Cheesecake with a Paula Dean-amount of butter in the crust any day. Key Lime Cheesecake? Praise Jesus. And I'd give my fourth toe for Chocolate Raspberry Truffle Cheesecake.
Anyway, this recipe came about because I happened to find a box of Pumpkin Spice Frosted Flakes on clearance for $1.25, heard my weight's worth in apples calling to me from the crisper drawer, had leftover spiced walnuts from the week's salad lunches (if you're going to eat salad for lunch, why not throw on nuts cooked in sugar and butter, amiright?), was pondering how to use those three lonely yolks left over from an egg-whites only recipe, and had exactly 1/2 C + 1 T of sour cream (and no cream, which is usually what is used in making caramel) left that was about to go bad.
And I needed something to bake something that was gluten free.
And for the love of all that is Fall, apples and caramel and walnuts are a fantastic combination.
And cheesecake is amazing and life is too short to wait until you're dressed all fancy or wearing a party hat to eat cheesecake.
So if you have looked at this recipe and said to yourself, "I love a good cheesecake, but this recipe is about 12 miles long," fear not. Change the silly thing. By all means, alter it to your heart's delight! Don't layer it if you prefer not to! Use graham crackers instead of cereal! Go crazy and add more cinnamon! Use more apples! Use store-bought caramel!
(Actually, no, don't do that. Homemade caramel is easy, cheap, and SO MUCH MORE FREAKING DELICIOUS).
Ultimately, I jotted this down so I can remember what I created and do it again in the future. But hopefully you're able to make some ordinary day more extraordinary.
2.16.2018
Why I Will See 3 O'Clock Twice Today
It is presently 5:16am and I have been awake for several hours. This time, I can't blame the baby or the insomnia. My soul is troubled. My soul is troubled in a way that glossy-eyed scrolling through social media, dominoes on my cell phone, and watching one more cute corgi video will not distract.
In April 1999, I was a 14-year old freshman whose naive bubble got a little bit deflated when I saw headlines of a horrific school shooting that took place several states away. I devoured two books about lives of two 17-year old Christian girls whose lives were taken in hopes of wrapping my head around any possible good that might have come out of the tragedy.
In April 2007, I was a month away from being a college graduate when Facebook notifications began rolling in from long-time friends who attended a university expressing confusion, fear, anger, and pain over their classmates' lives who were either confirmed dead by gun-shot or not yet accounted for. A week later, my university went on lock-down when two armed suspects were spotted near the student union building.
In April 2011, I was an elementary school music teacher who had just taped construction paper over the door windows and was frantically trying to keep my 27 sixth graders quiet during the excruciatingly long intruder drill. As police and their K-9 unit ran through the halls, shaking door handles and shouting, I found myself conflicted in reassuring the obviously fearful students that this was "just a drill" and whisper-scolding the ones whose fear masqueraded in thinly-veiled bravado and sarcasm.
It is now February 2018. I have a daughter who is the most precious, beautiful child I have ever laid eyes on. One day far too soon, I am going to have to have a discussion with her about the bad things that happen in the world. Yes, we will talk about sin and the heart. Yes, we will talk about alerting the authorities if she sees something potentially harmful. Yes, we will talk about recognizing and taking care of your needs-- physical, emotional, and mental. Yes, we will talk about doing the right thing and trying to protect others within your abilities. Yes, we will talk about how it's the job of parents to raise their children to be kind and respectful toward others. Yes, we will talk about mourning with others who are hurting. Then, we will not only talk about praying, but we will actually pray for and with people those who are in pain. If she wants to learn how to hunt or skeet shoot, I will absolutely educate her on gun safety.
But we will also talk about how we live in a country with elected government officials who we choose because we hope that they will help our city, state, and country be a safer place to live. And we will talk about the fact that sometimes we have to give up things that we want or desire to do because it isn't good or safe for us or others. And we will talk about how tradition and the excuse that "it has always been done this way" is not a good enough reason not to seek new, creative solutions to challenging problems. And we will talk about having courage to recognize when talking is no longer enough, but action is required.
I am not ready to have those conversations and I am grateful that I do not have to yet. For those of you who have and are currently, I will covet your knowledge and experience when that time comes. But right now, I am going to go hold my tiny 14-pound human and watch puppy YouTube videos.
In April 1999, I was a 14-year old freshman whose naive bubble got a little bit deflated when I saw headlines of a horrific school shooting that took place several states away. I devoured two books about lives of two 17-year old Christian girls whose lives were taken in hopes of wrapping my head around any possible good that might have come out of the tragedy.
In April 2007, I was a month away from being a college graduate when Facebook notifications began rolling in from long-time friends who attended a university expressing confusion, fear, anger, and pain over their classmates' lives who were either confirmed dead by gun-shot or not yet accounted for. A week later, my university went on lock-down when two armed suspects were spotted near the student union building.
In April 2011, I was an elementary school music teacher who had just taped construction paper over the door windows and was frantically trying to keep my 27 sixth graders quiet during the excruciatingly long intruder drill. As police and their K-9 unit ran through the halls, shaking door handles and shouting, I found myself conflicted in reassuring the obviously fearful students that this was "just a drill" and whisper-scolding the ones whose fear masqueraded in thinly-veiled bravado and sarcasm.
It is now February 2018. I have a daughter who is the most precious, beautiful child I have ever laid eyes on. One day far too soon, I am going to have to have a discussion with her about the bad things that happen in the world. Yes, we will talk about sin and the heart. Yes, we will talk about alerting the authorities if she sees something potentially harmful. Yes, we will talk about recognizing and taking care of your needs-- physical, emotional, and mental. Yes, we will talk about doing the right thing and trying to protect others within your abilities. Yes, we will talk about how it's the job of parents to raise their children to be kind and respectful toward others. Yes, we will talk about mourning with others who are hurting. Then, we will not only talk about praying, but we will actually pray for and with people those who are in pain. If she wants to learn how to hunt or skeet shoot, I will absolutely educate her on gun safety.
But we will also talk about how we live in a country with elected government officials who we choose because we hope that they will help our city, state, and country be a safer place to live. And we will talk about the fact that sometimes we have to give up things that we want or desire to do because it isn't good or safe for us or others. And we will talk about how tradition and the excuse that "it has always been done this way" is not a good enough reason not to seek new, creative solutions to challenging problems. And we will talk about having courage to recognize when talking is no longer enough, but action is required.
I am not ready to have those conversations and I am grateful that I do not have to yet. For those of you who have and are currently, I will covet your knowledge and experience when that time comes. But right now, I am going to go hold my tiny 14-pound human and watch puppy YouTube videos.
10.19.2016
An Unsexy and Unpolitical Post About an Unsexy and Unpolitical Discussion
Dust off those imaginations with me for a moment. I promise, it won't hurt. Now let's pretend, just for a minute-- are you ready?-- that we don't all know everything.
Whew. Still with me? Good. Moving on.
Unless you have been hibernating under a moon rock, the fact that a growing list of individuals claiming that the current Republican Presidential nominee sexually assaulted them has been all over everything, everywhere, should not come as news to you. I've heard everyone from television personalities to the couple selecting chips in the grocery store to the second graders in children's church talking about it. At the risk of adding white noise to an already extremely contentious discussion, I'd like to suggest that the present discourse is lacking two key elements: humility and compassion.
First up, humility. This election is unlike any other in history and media sensationalism is unlike I've ever seen. So, too, is the seeming wide-spread assumption that we all possess secret knowledge about these politicians' and women's motives. "Isn't the timing of these allegations surfacing obviously just a publicity stunt?" "Are they embellishing their account for shock factor?" "Why would any rational human being wait so many years before publicly facing their abuser?" Listen. I have no idea if these accounts are true or not. I don't know what motivated each woman to step into the spotlight at this particular time. Countless speculations are out there and that's not what I intend to address.
Humility matters because it admits our inability to know these women's motives for remaining silent and, also, for stepping up to speak. It is much easier to denounce these individuals as frauds and liars and attention-seekers when they are just names in an article or unfamiliar faces on a screen. (I'm going to assume that anyone reading this probably doesn't personally know any of these women). But what if that face on the screen belonged to daughter? Your sister? Your best friend? Your significant other?
Can I get a bit personal for a minute? The past weekish has been pretty uncomfortable for a lot of us who have personally been sexually assaulted. Yes, I am sure the language repeated throughout the media rattles some, but for most of us, it goes much deeper. Regardless of the form of sexual assault, its potential to heap fear, shame, guilt, and hopelessness onto a person is extremely real and affecting. Fear, for instance, that you will share something deeply personal only to have your experience dismissed, downplayed, or disbelieved. Fear that the aggressor, if confronted, will only get a slap on the wrist and continue, or worse yet, turn the tables against you, the victim (as is very possible with a charismatic person or someone with power) and slander your reputation. Fear that reporting what should be reported will mean having to recount the details of your very personal trauma to strangers and acquaintances alike. Shame that your physical person has been violated and that violation transcends beyond the physical to the emotional, mental, and possibly, spiritual as well. Shame that taunts, "You are weak and cannot protect yourself." Shame that belittles, "You belong to someone else and shall be treated as they see fit." Shame that stares back in the mirror at the bruises or marks and mocks, "You are tainted and everyone else can see it just as plainly as you do in the mirror now." Guilt that weighs down each day with the accusation that you brought this upon yourself somehow. Guilt that sneeringly suggests, "By doing or wearing such and such, you were basically begging for it." Guilt that maybe you could have stopped or prevented it if you had responded differently. Guilt that can paralyze from seeking comfort in religious circles for fear of appearing less pure or "less Christian." Hopelessness that publicly recounting your nightmare will only serve as a more constant reminder of an instance you would prefer forget happened. Hopelessness that the only result of ever saying anything will be pity. Hopelessness that it often comes down to one person's word against another and the law will fail you. Hopelessness that hints that maybe it's just easier to attempt to numb or repress the pain than face it.
So please. Do me and every other woman or man who has been sexually assaulted a favor and consider these public allegations with a strong dose of humility. To you, it may seem implausible that legitimate victims would have chosen to go public with their stories of harassment or assault until this particular moment in time. But without bearing in mind that you do not know their motives, however unintentional, the strong doubt cast upon these possible victims may confirm the feelings of fear, shame, guilt, and hopelessness that your daughter or sister or best friend or significant other may be plagued with.
While many applauded the First Lady's passionate speech fervently, many others responded with trite memes, cries of hypocrisy for inviting rap artists to the White House, comparisons of how what was dismissed as "locker room talk" is no worse than what is consumed as mass entertainment, or pointing back at a former President, in the same manner that a child might, and saying, "Oh yeeeeah? Well look at what HE did!" None of these responses, or the myriad of others like it, move the discussion forward in a helpful manner.
Can I suggest that a little compassion added to this discussion of sexual assault is long overdue? We are completely missing the point if, before resuming our political mudslinging, we neglect to stop and consider the very real fact that women and men (because, let's be honest, men are victimized too) are experiencing sexual assault every single day in ways that can define a person's view of self-worth. And these individuals aren't just faceless victims. They are your loved ones: friends or co-workers who may be watching to see how these conversations about traumatic sexual experiences unfold. Family members who may be watching YOUR response to these public allegations to gauge whether they can trust you with their private burdens.
So please, dear reader, before assuming you know why these women stepped into the spotlight to confront the Republican nominee when they did, proceed with caution and-- most importantly-- with humility and compassion.
Whew. Still with me? Good. Moving on.
Unless you have been hibernating under a moon rock, the fact that a growing list of individuals claiming that the current Republican Presidential nominee sexually assaulted them has been all over everything, everywhere, should not come as news to you. I've heard everyone from television personalities to the couple selecting chips in the grocery store to the second graders in children's church talking about it. At the risk of adding white noise to an already extremely contentious discussion, I'd like to suggest that the present discourse is lacking two key elements: humility and compassion.
First up, humility. This election is unlike any other in history and media sensationalism is unlike I've ever seen. So, too, is the seeming wide-spread assumption that we all possess secret knowledge about these politicians' and women's motives. "Isn't the timing of these allegations surfacing obviously just a publicity stunt?" "Are they embellishing their account for shock factor?" "Why would any rational human being wait so many years before publicly facing their abuser?" Listen. I have no idea if these accounts are true or not. I don't know what motivated each woman to step into the spotlight at this particular time. Countless speculations are out there and that's not what I intend to address.
Humility matters because it admits our inability to know these women's motives for remaining silent and, also, for stepping up to speak. It is much easier to denounce these individuals as frauds and liars and attention-seekers when they are just names in an article or unfamiliar faces on a screen. (I'm going to assume that anyone reading this probably doesn't personally know any of these women). But what if that face on the screen belonged to daughter? Your sister? Your best friend? Your significant other?
Can I get a bit personal for a minute? The past weekish has been pretty uncomfortable for a lot of us who have personally been sexually assaulted. Yes, I am sure the language repeated throughout the media rattles some, but for most of us, it goes much deeper. Regardless of the form of sexual assault, its potential to heap fear, shame, guilt, and hopelessness onto a person is extremely real and affecting. Fear, for instance, that you will share something deeply personal only to have your experience dismissed, downplayed, or disbelieved. Fear that the aggressor, if confronted, will only get a slap on the wrist and continue, or worse yet, turn the tables against you, the victim (as is very possible with a charismatic person or someone with power) and slander your reputation. Fear that reporting what should be reported will mean having to recount the details of your very personal trauma to strangers and acquaintances alike. Shame that your physical person has been violated and that violation transcends beyond the physical to the emotional, mental, and possibly, spiritual as well. Shame that taunts, "You are weak and cannot protect yourself." Shame that belittles, "You belong to someone else and shall be treated as they see fit." Shame that stares back in the mirror at the bruises or marks and mocks, "You are tainted and everyone else can see it just as plainly as you do in the mirror now." Guilt that weighs down each day with the accusation that you brought this upon yourself somehow. Guilt that sneeringly suggests, "By doing or wearing such and such, you were basically begging for it." Guilt that maybe you could have stopped or prevented it if you had responded differently. Guilt that can paralyze from seeking comfort in religious circles for fear of appearing less pure or "less Christian." Hopelessness that publicly recounting your nightmare will only serve as a more constant reminder of an instance you would prefer forget happened. Hopelessness that the only result of ever saying anything will be pity. Hopelessness that it often comes down to one person's word against another and the law will fail you. Hopelessness that hints that maybe it's just easier to attempt to numb or repress the pain than face it.
So please. Do me and every other woman or man who has been sexually assaulted a favor and consider these public allegations with a strong dose of humility. To you, it may seem implausible that legitimate victims would have chosen to go public with their stories of harassment or assault until this particular moment in time. But without bearing in mind that you do not know their motives, however unintentional, the strong doubt cast upon these possible victims may confirm the feelings of fear, shame, guilt, and hopelessness that your daughter or sister or best friend or significant other may be plagued with.
While many applauded the First Lady's passionate speech fervently, many others responded with trite memes, cries of hypocrisy for inviting rap artists to the White House, comparisons of how what was dismissed as "locker room talk" is no worse than what is consumed as mass entertainment, or pointing back at a former President, in the same manner that a child might, and saying, "Oh yeeeeah? Well look at what HE did!" None of these responses, or the myriad of others like it, move the discussion forward in a helpful manner.
Can I suggest that a little compassion added to this discussion of sexual assault is long overdue? We are completely missing the point if, before resuming our political mudslinging, we neglect to stop and consider the very real fact that women and men (because, let's be honest, men are victimized too) are experiencing sexual assault every single day in ways that can define a person's view of self-worth. And these individuals aren't just faceless victims. They are your loved ones: friends or co-workers who may be watching to see how these conversations about traumatic sexual experiences unfold. Family members who may be watching YOUR response to these public allegations to gauge whether they can trust you with their private burdens.
So please, dear reader, before assuming you know why these women stepped into the spotlight to confront the Republican nominee when they did, proceed with caution and-- most importantly-- with humility and compassion.
12.03.2015
It's [Not] the Most Wonderful Time of the Year
Christmas music has officially replaced the smooth soulfulness of Adele's "Hello" as the soundtrack of the season. The reminder that "the most wonderful time of the year" has arrived is jingled everywhere you go, from parking lots to the grocery store to the radio scan in the car. And to many, this rings true. The abundance of memories "of Christmases long, long ago" still holds a magical spell over the calendar-packing insanity that this month has become. While it may be true for you that the festive music, the scents of pine needles and sugar cookies, the big bows and striped wrapping, or the celebration of Christ's birth rekindle a spark of joy unlike any other month of the year, friend, can we be real together for a few minutes?
Behind many of those plastered on smiles you see bustling through the aisles is deep, wounded brokenness. Brokenness that barely musters the strength to acquiesce to "everyone telling you be of good cheer" with a smile, but that is still frantically attempting to patch up holes left by the recent loss of beloved grandparents. Brokenness that feels compelled to give an upbeat, optimistic answer to "how are things?" for fear that no one really wants to know how depressed the unfair, vindictive, forced resignation has made her because right now it does not feel like the "hap-happiest season of all." Brokenness that has made the office a second home because of the pain that he's not invited to those "gay, happy meetings" and no "friends come to call." Brokenness that has learned the safety of isolation after years of being torn down by the soul-crushing tongue of a resentful spouse, but who publicly goes through the rote motions of "much mistletoeing" though the heart isn't glowing since loved ones aren't near.
To the joyful friend who does believe this is the most wonderful time of the year, have you looked beyond her grin? Dear friend, have you noticed him? Are you too frantic "preparing Him room" that you neglect time to see those who need Him the most?
And to you, dear one, who tries to shove that brokenness in the closet because you feel you need to BE something else right now, know this: It's okay to not be okay.
I am pretty sure more of us fit into this second category than we'd like to admit. Will you allow me the honor to encourage you today? Trust one person enough to express that you're not okay; that this does NOT feel like the most wonderful time of the year. Allow someone else to bear your burden in love. If you don't know who you can trust with that, send me a message.
Behind many of those plastered on smiles you see bustling through the aisles is deep, wounded brokenness. Brokenness that barely musters the strength to acquiesce to "everyone telling you be of good cheer" with a smile, but that is still frantically attempting to patch up holes left by the recent loss of beloved grandparents. Brokenness that feels compelled to give an upbeat, optimistic answer to "how are things?" for fear that no one really wants to know how depressed the unfair, vindictive, forced resignation has made her because right now it does not feel like the "hap-happiest season of all." Brokenness that has made the office a second home because of the pain that he's not invited to those "gay, happy meetings" and no "friends come to call." Brokenness that has learned the safety of isolation after years of being torn down by the soul-crushing tongue of a resentful spouse, but who publicly goes through the rote motions of "much mistletoeing" though the heart isn't glowing since loved ones aren't near.
To the joyful friend who does believe this is the most wonderful time of the year, have you looked beyond her grin? Dear friend, have you noticed him? Are you too frantic "preparing Him room" that you neglect time to see those who need Him the most?
And to you, dear one, who tries to shove that brokenness in the closet because you feel you need to BE something else right now, know this: It's okay to not be okay.
I am pretty sure more of us fit into this second category than we'd like to admit. Will you allow me the honor to encourage you today? Trust one person enough to express that you're not okay; that this does NOT feel like the most wonderful time of the year. Allow someone else to bear your burden in love. If you don't know who you can trust with that, send me a message.
10.25.2015
Chocolate-Salted-Caramel-Cream-Cheese Brownie Frosting
Okay guys. The greatest thing just happened. This thing is Chocolate-Salted-Caramel-Cream-Cheese Brownie Frosting, and shall henceforth be dubbed the "All You Could Ever Want in a Frosting." So shall it be.
Problem #1
After a particularly incredible football-watching afternoon, in an attempt to continue the merriment, naturally, I thought, "Chocolate!" Problem #1: The only chocolate in this house is in the form of unroasted cocoa beans or unsweetened cocoa powder. Solution: Brownies. The recipe I used wasn't to die for, and I certainly won't be saving it, but it served its purpose. Measure, stir, pour, and bake those puppies.
Problem #2
The recipe called for a frosting, and considering they looked like they'd come out on the cakey side (I happen to believe that a brownie cannot claim to be unless it is fudgy and chewy). Frosting is a subject on which I excel. A great frosting can amplify any confection it is placed on, and the possibilities are unending. This particular recipe looked a bit lackluster. Solution: Let the creative flow.
Problem #3
I had a tiny bit of left over salted caramel that had been in my refrigerator since the July 4 cupcakes filled with salted caramel and I wanted my container back (one does not simply dispose of homemade caramel). Solution:
2 Tbsp unsalted butter, softened
1/4 tsp vanilla
2 tsp cocoa powder
<1 tsp water or milk, if needed for consistency
1 1/2 Tbsp salted caramel sauce (or other comparable recipe)
4 heaping Tbsp confectioners sugar
2 oz cream cheese, softened
Using paddle attachment in mixer, beat butter and vanilla until smooth; add cocoa powder. Once mixed through, add half confectioners sugar. While mixer is on, drizzle caramel in until mixed thoroughly. Add remaining sugar to reach desired sweetness, and then beat in cream cheese. Spread on warm brownies. Cool slightly, and then enjoy your sugar coma.*
 |
| Who's coming over to die of happiness with me? |
Problem #1
After a particularly incredible football-watching afternoon, in an attempt to continue the merriment, naturally, I thought, "Chocolate!" Problem #1: The only chocolate in this house is in the form of unroasted cocoa beans or unsweetened cocoa powder. Solution: Brownies. The recipe I used wasn't to die for, and I certainly won't be saving it, but it served its purpose. Measure, stir, pour, and bake those puppies.
Problem #2
The recipe called for a frosting, and considering they looked like they'd come out on the cakey side (I happen to believe that a brownie cannot claim to be unless it is fudgy and chewy). Frosting is a subject on which I excel. A great frosting can amplify any confection it is placed on, and the possibilities are unending. This particular recipe looked a bit lackluster. Solution: Let the creative flow.
Problem #3
I had a tiny bit of left over salted caramel that had been in my refrigerator since the July 4 cupcakes filled with salted caramel and I wanted my container back (one does not simply dispose of homemade caramel). Solution:
--------------------------------------------------------
All You Could Ever Want in a [Brownie] Frosting2 Tbsp unsalted butter, softened
1/4 tsp vanilla
2 tsp cocoa powder
<1 tsp water or milk, if needed for consistency
1 1/2 Tbsp salted caramel sauce (or other comparable recipe)
4 heaping Tbsp confectioners sugar
2 oz cream cheese, softened
Using paddle attachment in mixer, beat butter and vanilla until smooth; add cocoa powder. Once mixed through, add half confectioners sugar. While mixer is on, drizzle caramel in until mixed thoroughly. Add remaining sugar to reach desired sweetness, and then beat in cream cheese. Spread on warm brownies. Cool slightly, and then enjoy your sugar coma.*
--------------------------------------------------------
*Note: If you try this and make adjustments, I'd love to know how it turned out!
9.16.2015
In Which I Am Grateful for Wrath (and Wayne Grudem)
"I could never believe in a God who would send people to Hell." "If God is so good, why is there so much suffering in the world?" "I like what Jesus stood for a lot more than the angry-faced God of the Old Testament." 21st Century Western culture is obsessed with a grandfather-God full of love and acceptance. On the surface, who wouldn't want a supreme being with the universe at his fingertips bestowing abundant, unending blessings on us? Any hint at a God who possesses characteristics that seem to clash with this idea causes most to balk at either the idea or the deity in question.
If we assume that there is a God, it isn't a far step to take to also assume him to be perfect. God always acts in accordance with what is right asserts theologian Wayne Grudem*. Let that simmer for a moment. If God is perfect and always does what is right, which would need to be true for a God to be worthy of trust. (Could you really place faith in a deity who was occasionally a liar or manipulator or lover of evil?) Beyond perfection, however, if God always acts in accordance with what is right, that would speak clearly of His justice. Without justice, we as a society have little hope. Justice keeps society filled with evil and wrongdoing safe. Our society loves the idea of justice. Public wrongs that go unpunished or held unaccountable become cultural dartboards. At the core of our being, we know that evil must be dealt with.
If God loves all that is right and good and all that conforms to his moral character, it should not be surprising that he would hate everything that is opposed to his moral character*. So if God is perfect and always does what is right, it would stand to reason that He would oppose what is wrong/evil/unjust. This is good news! To have a god who loved those things would be truly terrifying. To have a god who was lukewarm toward evil would leave mankind in a similarly destitute place. But when we are powerless to stop or fight evil, having a god who is perfect and able to thwart and punish evil should be a comfort to us.
The focus of God's wrath has always been and always will be on evil. Because it is in God's nature to do and love what is right, He could never damn good people to Hell. Since God does what is right, hates evil, and requires justice, the evil in the world demands punishment (specifically, from Him, since he is the only perfect being). When Christ died to pay the penalty for our sins, it showed that God was truly righteous (just), because he did give appropriate punishment for sin, even though he did forgive his people their sins.
I am grateful that, in His perfection, God loves what is good and hates what is evil. This gives me hope in a world chock-full of pain and suffering and wrongdoing, because God is the ultimate definition of justice. Yet, I am also grateful for His mercy in taking that punishment that I deserve (for all of the evil and wrongdoing I have done) upon himself, in the form of Christ.
*quotes from Bible Doctrine by Wayne Grudem (1999), pages 93 & 94
If we assume that there is a God, it isn't a far step to take to also assume him to be perfect. God always acts in accordance with what is right asserts theologian Wayne Grudem*. Let that simmer for a moment. If God is perfect and always does what is right, which would need to be true for a God to be worthy of trust. (Could you really place faith in a deity who was occasionally a liar or manipulator or lover of evil?) Beyond perfection, however, if God always acts in accordance with what is right, that would speak clearly of His justice. Without justice, we as a society have little hope. Justice keeps society filled with evil and wrongdoing safe. Our society loves the idea of justice. Public wrongs that go unpunished or held unaccountable become cultural dartboards. At the core of our being, we know that evil must be dealt with.
If God loves all that is right and good and all that conforms to his moral character, it should not be surprising that he would hate everything that is opposed to his moral character*. So if God is perfect and always does what is right, it would stand to reason that He would oppose what is wrong/evil/unjust. This is good news! To have a god who loved those things would be truly terrifying. To have a god who was lukewarm toward evil would leave mankind in a similarly destitute place. But when we are powerless to stop or fight evil, having a god who is perfect and able to thwart and punish evil should be a comfort to us.
The focus of God's wrath has always been and always will be on evil. Because it is in God's nature to do and love what is right, He could never damn good people to Hell. Since God does what is right, hates evil, and requires justice, the evil in the world demands punishment (specifically, from Him, since he is the only perfect being). When Christ died to pay the penalty for our sins, it showed that God was truly righteous (just), because he did give appropriate punishment for sin, even though he did forgive his people their sins.
I am grateful that, in His perfection, God loves what is good and hates what is evil. This gives me hope in a world chock-full of pain and suffering and wrongdoing, because God is the ultimate definition of justice. Yet, I am also grateful for His mercy in taking that punishment that I deserve (for all of the evil and wrongdoing I have done) upon himself, in the form of Christ.
*quotes from Bible Doctrine by Wayne Grudem (1999), pages 93 & 94
8.17.2015
Concerning Cardiac Calorie Counting
Do not let your adorning be external- the braiding of hair, the wearing of gold, or the putting on of clothing-- but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious. -1 Peter 3:3-4 (ESV)
America is obsessed with health. Amazon.com sells hundreds of thousands of books on how we feed our bodies, how we trim and tone our bodies, and how we care for our bodies. The Apple store has 250 popular health and fitness apps (not to mention the limitless less popular apps) designed to get you on track for the best six pack, shedding baby weight, 5k training, and so on. Walmart sells over 2000 different kinds of protein powder. As a resident of Baltimore County, I can borrow over 3000 health books from our library system or find a CrossFit workout in 23 different locations. What I guess I really mean to say is that America is obsessed with physical health.
I, too, put considerable effort in to tracking how much I put into my body, what kind of things I put into my body, how much I exercise my body, etc. And there is nothing wrong with this! God has given me a strong body that I need to steward well if I am to fulfill His purposes for my life and serve others effectively. Yet, we know that age sets in eventually. Healthy lifestyles can only take you so far.
Beyond the usual womanly application concerning the vanity of ever-changing fashion, Peter pointed my heart further. I may obsess over every calorie that fuels my body, but I take little account as to what I fuel my mind and heart with on a regular basis. I expend much effort into adorning myself physically with much less regard on how I adorn my spirit. Women long for imperishable physical beauty (which fades with time), but SO much more worthy of our time and attention is imperishable inner beauty (which grows with time).
So I leave us (myself included) with this today: Are you concerned with the things you are feeding your soul? Do you keep close watch that you aren't feeding your heart and mind with discouraging, life-sapping "trans fats?" Are you training your spirit for endurance and joy? Are you watching the "caloric" minutes here and there spent on social media, radio, or entertainment that continue to fuel your heart in small doses that, with time, amass and influence how you think and feel? How's your cardiac calorie counting?
America is obsessed with health. Amazon.com sells hundreds of thousands of books on how we feed our bodies, how we trim and tone our bodies, and how we care for our bodies. The Apple store has 250 popular health and fitness apps (not to mention the limitless less popular apps) designed to get you on track for the best six pack, shedding baby weight, 5k training, and so on. Walmart sells over 2000 different kinds of protein powder. As a resident of Baltimore County, I can borrow over 3000 health books from our library system or find a CrossFit workout in 23 different locations. What I guess I really mean to say is that America is obsessed with physical health.
I, too, put considerable effort in to tracking how much I put into my body, what kind of things I put into my body, how much I exercise my body, etc. And there is nothing wrong with this! God has given me a strong body that I need to steward well if I am to fulfill His purposes for my life and serve others effectively. Yet, we know that age sets in eventually. Healthy lifestyles can only take you so far.
Beyond the usual womanly application concerning the vanity of ever-changing fashion, Peter pointed my heart further. I may obsess over every calorie that fuels my body, but I take little account as to what I fuel my mind and heart with on a regular basis. I expend much effort into adorning myself physically with much less regard on how I adorn my spirit. Women long for imperishable physical beauty (which fades with time), but SO much more worthy of our time and attention is imperishable inner beauty (which grows with time).
So I leave us (myself included) with this today: Are you concerned with the things you are feeding your soul? Do you keep close watch that you aren't feeding your heart and mind with discouraging, life-sapping "trans fats?" Are you training your spirit for endurance and joy? Are you watching the "caloric" minutes here and there spent on social media, radio, or entertainment that continue to fuel your heart in small doses that, with time, amass and influence how you think and feel? How's your cardiac calorie counting?
7.31.2015
Your Excellency
Technology is a delightful tool. Globalization is an incredible gift. The capability to share thoughts and information all across our planet and even into space is positively mind-boggling. Ease of expressing our opinions to a large audience has, I believe, desensitized us to take this gift for granted. What we choose to share, "like," open, read, and comment on matters. Social media's commonplace has become a graveyard for countless hours of my life and we can easily fool ourselves into thinking that its use is harmless, worthwhile, even necessary. Unfiltered political platforms, cultural issue commentaries, opinion polls, sensationalist stories, trending health fads, and tutorials for things that really don't need a tutorial inundate my newsfeed daily. 95% of these I'm completely uninterested in, but will sometimes get sucked into without mindfulness of the time and mental investment I'm making with each click further.
Our culture's food obsession scrutinizes what we feed our bodies (antioxidants- good! yellow dye #87- bad! paleo- great! atkins- dig your grave now!) and how we care for them (crossfit! high intensity! 5k! fitbit!). But what about our minds? What fuel do we fill our minds with? Many will insist that meditation and intentional clearing of the mind of negativity is a necessary practice, but if how we fed and guided our thoughts each day was healthy, perhaps this wouldn't even be a "thing."
What if we actually took seriously Paul's encouragement in Philippians 4:8, "Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things?" If we focused our thoughts on truth, honor, justice, purity, beauty, true goodness, and excellence, how would that renew our minds and transform our lives (Romans 12:2)? Would that allow us to "be sober-minded" and "prepare our minds for action" (1 Peter 1:13) in such a way that we could "put away all malice and all deceit and hypocrisy and envy and slander" (1 Peter 2:1)? Could we, then, live to "proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light" as God's people who have received a serious amount of mercy (1 Peter 2:9-10)?
When we set our minds on unchanging, life-giving, mind-sharpening truth (specifically, truth about who God is, what He has done, and who we are in light of who He is and what He has done) instead of whatever fleeting nonsense flits in and out of social media, we are more enabled to live well, without hypocrisy, and to use words to love excellently.
So is what you devote your thoughts to (whether two hours or two minutes at a time) worthy of the limited time you're given on Earth? Is it lovely? Do the things that you choose to share or tweet "spur one another on toward love and good deeds" (Hebrews 10:24)? Are we commenting in ways that prompt our hearts to "increase and abound in love for one another" (1 Thessalonians 3:12)? Are you thinking excellently?
Our culture's food obsession scrutinizes what we feed our bodies (antioxidants- good! yellow dye #87- bad! paleo- great! atkins- dig your grave now!) and how we care for them (crossfit! high intensity! 5k! fitbit!). But what about our minds? What fuel do we fill our minds with? Many will insist that meditation and intentional clearing of the mind of negativity is a necessary practice, but if how we fed and guided our thoughts each day was healthy, perhaps this wouldn't even be a "thing."
What if we actually took seriously Paul's encouragement in Philippians 4:8, "Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things?" If we focused our thoughts on truth, honor, justice, purity, beauty, true goodness, and excellence, how would that renew our minds and transform our lives (Romans 12:2)? Would that allow us to "be sober-minded" and "prepare our minds for action" (1 Peter 1:13) in such a way that we could "put away all malice and all deceit and hypocrisy and envy and slander" (1 Peter 2:1)? Could we, then, live to "proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light" as God's people who have received a serious amount of mercy (1 Peter 2:9-10)?
When we set our minds on unchanging, life-giving, mind-sharpening truth (specifically, truth about who God is, what He has done, and who we are in light of who He is and what He has done) instead of whatever fleeting nonsense flits in and out of social media, we are more enabled to live well, without hypocrisy, and to use words to love excellently.
So is what you devote your thoughts to (whether two hours or two minutes at a time) worthy of the limited time you're given on Earth? Is it lovely? Do the things that you choose to share or tweet "spur one another on toward love and good deeds" (Hebrews 10:24)? Are we commenting in ways that prompt our hearts to "increase and abound in love for one another" (1 Thessalonians 3:12)? Are you thinking excellently?
6.07.2015
The Non-Feminist Feminist Rant
Full disclosure: I am not a feminist. I am, however, a boldly-speaking, deep-thinking, sometimes-a-little-too-strongly-willed, sport-watching female. I also happen to play soccer. In the past twenty-five years, I've spent more time chasing a ball around than most other activities. Although I found significant playing time at the sweeper position for a few years in high school, most of my experience extends to the other side of the field as sweeper or an outside midfield position. I am an offensively-minded player at heart. The thrill of lobbing the perfect cross for the diving header or nailing a long shot from outside the 18 into the corner of the posts is positively euphoric. All of the advance training, communication and team work, sweat and effort, play-by-play success, and mini individual triumphs culminate in celebration once that ball crosses the goal line.
... Which is why I found myself extremely irritated when I heard one of the announcers during a Women's World Cup game exclaim, after the first goal of the match, "Wow! That's something she'll be able to tell her kids about one day!"
Okay.
I take zero issue with celebrating a memorable moment with an athlete. As a female also looking forward to raising children in the future, the idea of sharing past experiences with future offspring doesn't offend me. I also greatly enjoy the myriad of differences between men and women.
However.
As an athlete, hearing a commentator (and a female one, shockingly) jump from, "She scores!" to "She'll be able to tell her kids about that one day" is offensive and ridiculous. It glosses over the countless hours of hard work, athleticism, precision, and world class talent to relegate the player's worth to "her future offspring will have a mommy who did something neat once." A football announcer would never celebrate a touchdown from a punt return by exclaiming, "That guy will be able to show his son that run some day!"
The women playing in the FIFA World Cup are among the best players in the world now and in history. Countries that have never been on this world-wide stage are finally getting the opportunity to. Unlike many professional male athletes, most of these women work full-time because making a living as a soccer player just isn't realistic. These countries' representation culminates from millennia of women's rights and are worth celebrating! The progress made through their histories are beyond notable. The ability to bear and sustain human life ought to be marveled at. These women have incredible stories and lives that are should be told. And yes, they will have lives to return to once the games in Canada wrap up.
But when these women are playing soccer, their work as athletes is worth watching, following, and cheering for. Get excited about the skill. Comment on the triumphs and learn from the mistakes. Admire their precise footwork, their technique, their strength, and their strategy. Admire these women for the incredible athletes that they are.
... Which is why I found myself extremely irritated when I heard one of the announcers during a Women's World Cup game exclaim, after the first goal of the match, "Wow! That's something she'll be able to tell her kids about one day!"
Okay.
I take zero issue with celebrating a memorable moment with an athlete. As a female also looking forward to raising children in the future, the idea of sharing past experiences with future offspring doesn't offend me. I also greatly enjoy the myriad of differences between men and women.
However.
As an athlete, hearing a commentator (and a female one, shockingly) jump from, "She scores!" to "She'll be able to tell her kids about that one day" is offensive and ridiculous. It glosses over the countless hours of hard work, athleticism, precision, and world class talent to relegate the player's worth to "her future offspring will have a mommy who did something neat once." A football announcer would never celebrate a touchdown from a punt return by exclaiming, "That guy will be able to show his son that run some day!"
The women playing in the FIFA World Cup are among the best players in the world now and in history. Countries that have never been on this world-wide stage are finally getting the opportunity to. Unlike many professional male athletes, most of these women work full-time because making a living as a soccer player just isn't realistic. These countries' representation culminates from millennia of women's rights and are worth celebrating! The progress made through their histories are beyond notable. The ability to bear and sustain human life ought to be marveled at. These women have incredible stories and lives that are should be told. And yes, they will have lives to return to once the games in Canada wrap up.
But when these women are playing soccer, their work as athletes is worth watching, following, and cheering for. Get excited about the skill. Comment on the triumphs and learn from the mistakes. Admire their precise footwork, their technique, their strength, and their strategy. Admire these women for the incredible athletes that they are.
4.28.2015
Don't Pray for Baltimore
The sound of sirens filled the air all afternoon. When I went to bed, they could still be heard in the distance. This morning, instead of birds chirping outside my window, one lone siren in the distance could be heard. Yesterday's late-breaking news of the peaceful protests, violent riots, fires and looting, State of Emergency, National Guard being called in, prayer walks, etc. turned into a sideshow for sidewalk-gawkers, local radio talk shows, major news broadcasts, and even international audiences. Throughout the afternoon and evening, I received numerous messages inquiring as to my personal safety (which I appreciate, by the way). Social media became a seemingly endless stream of condolences, petitions for justice, speculations, and calls for prayer for the city from those near and far.
Which brings me to my request: Please don't pray for Baltimore... and then just go about your day. With the unparalleled amount of information that floods our news, advocacy groups, awareness days and ribbons, internet memes, online petitions and movements, and cries of outrage, armchair activism is one of the unfortunate by-products of increased globalization in our generation. Supporting something has taken the form of clicking, liking, tweeting, sharing, thinking positive thoughts and well-wishing and good vibes, wearing a certain colored shirt on a specified day, wearing a certain colored ribbon on a specified day, being "aware" of a certain thing on a specified day, yadda yadda yadda. This makes us feel good because we feel like we're making a difference.
A week later, we're jumping on to the next issue social media decides is sexy.
If this is as far as you care to go to support my city, then please don't bother praying for Baltimore. If you are truly concerned and moved by what you see, then do something. Let's not be content to have "positive" feelings about something for five minutes and then jump back into whatever we were doing.
Does it bother you that young, black men have to consciously think about what they are wearing during certain times of the day when they are out doing their business? Then start some conversations. Are you uncomfortable when you consider that lots of excellent law enforcement officers who have a passion to keep people are getting bricks and glass hurled at them? Then call up their spouse who is sitting at home worried sick about them and ask to come over to be with them. Do you get uneasy about the fact that these high schoolers feel so undervalued, disrespected, and uncared for that the only way they know how to be heard is to charge into a store with a baseball bat? Then go introduce yourself to one, root for them during their basketball game, take them out for ice cream, and ask them what it's like being a teenager in 2015. Are you saddened by the pictures of destruction to homes and communities and neighborhoods? Look around your own community, grab some friends and gloves, and get to work. Do you see the hurting faces, tear-stained with injustice? Then ask yourself, "What injustice am I currently contributing to?" and go do something about it.
And as you are doing, by all means, ask for God's help. People change when God changes them. So let's pray for that. Not only for safety and inconvenience-free lives. Not only for peaceful and calm, pristine-looking streets. Pray that God will radically change hearts and turn lives upside-down. But don't just pray and go about your day.
Which brings me to my request: Please don't pray for Baltimore... and then just go about your day. With the unparalleled amount of information that floods our news, advocacy groups, awareness days and ribbons, internet memes, online petitions and movements, and cries of outrage, armchair activism is one of the unfortunate by-products of increased globalization in our generation. Supporting something has taken the form of clicking, liking, tweeting, sharing, thinking positive thoughts and well-wishing and good vibes, wearing a certain colored shirt on a specified day, wearing a certain colored ribbon on a specified day, being "aware" of a certain thing on a specified day, yadda yadda yadda. This makes us feel good because we feel like we're making a difference.
A week later, we're jumping on to the next issue social media decides is sexy.
Go us.
If this is as far as you care to go to support my city, then please don't bother praying for Baltimore. If you are truly concerned and moved by what you see, then do something. Let's not be content to have "positive" feelings about something for five minutes and then jump back into whatever we were doing.
And as you are doing, by all means, ask for God's help. People change when God changes them. So let's pray for that. Not only for safety and inconvenience-free lives. Not only for peaceful and calm, pristine-looking streets. Pray that God will radically change hearts and turn lives upside-down. But don't just pray and go about your day.
4.24.2015
I Wish My Students Knew...
A week ago, the story of a third grade teacher's assignment to her students, in which she asked them to write about what they wish she knew about them, went viral. Over the past couple of years innumerable op-ed pieces, political commentaries, and online debates have been written on the subject of effective teaching. I do not wish to add verbose rhetoric to this cultural conversation, but feel compelled to give voice to the following thoughts...
I wish my students knew that I care far more about their developing character than their ability to catalog instruments into families.
I wish my students knew that it breaks my heart when I notice one of them snicker at innocently chosen words, that could be misconstrued as innuendo, because her smirk reveals an innocence that has been shattered.
I wish my students knew that I hate the testing schedule too.
I wish my students knew that don't assign partners because I revel in their disappointment at not getting to choose, but because I don't want him being the last one picked... again.
I wish my students knew that I purposefully sacrifice a totally in-control class for a slightly more chaotic one that allows them to move and dance around because I know how hard it is to sit still.
I wish my students knew the sadness that overtakes my heart (after the initial, selfish relief) when I hear that one of my particularly challenging students has moved because of the reminder that the instability of their home life is what has created those challenging behaviors.
I wish my students knew that their ability to look me in the eye and express their thoughts is more important than their ability to remember an acronym for EGBDF.
I wish my students knew that I intentionally put my dignity aside in order to show them that it's okay to not take yourself so seriously.
I wish my students knew that earning "brownie points" has nothing to do with actual brownies.
I wish my students knew that, yes, I did in fact notice the boy who has fallen asleep in the corner and I am okay with that. Really. We're just playing eighth notes on a maraca, and he didn't eat lunch today or sleep last night.
I wish my students knew that I lose sleep over how to respond when you pretend to choke yourself to get attention. Or when you use the red marker under your nose to try to convince me that you were punched. Or when you immediately react to another child accidentally bumping you by punching that child in the stomach.
I wish my students knew that I lose sleep over these things because I legitimately worry that you are going to be arrested by the time you are in middle school due to the violent patterns you are setting for yourself now. I lose sleep because I am certain that you are setting yourself on this kind of path because this type of violence is normal in your life.
I wish my students knew that I pray for them on my drive to work.
I wish my students knew that I have a "Smile File" that I keep their precious notes (even if I can't read them) and pictures in and these things touch my soul.
I wish that my students knew that yes, of course, it is always okay for you to give me a hug. Always.
I wish that my students knew that I loathe the myriad of detrimental effects to their generation caused by my generation's obsession with the self-esteem movement.
I wish that my students knew that I love them too much to affirm their distracting and horrendous behavior choices by giving them the attention they crave. Even though it drives me up the wall.
I wish my students knew that I hate the phrase "Do I have to sit next to her?"
I wish that my students knew that their bodies are more resilient than they think and a hangnail is not a legitimate reason to need to visit the nurse or have a screaming fit.
I wish my students knew that my ultimate goal is not that they can match pitch, keep a steady beat, define "forte," locate a time signature, show me the correct solfege hand signs, or hold a mallet correctly because in a few years, they might not even remember me or anything they did in their elementary school music class. My goal is that they love music. That it becomes part of them. That they want to pursue it on their own. That they enjoy it.
I wish my students knew that I care about them having a quality education, but I also want them to enjoy being kids with active, creative imaginations.
I wish my students knew that I don't teach primarily because I love music, but because I love them.
I wish my students knew that I care far more about their developing character than their ability to catalog instruments into families.
I wish my students knew that it breaks my heart when I notice one of them snicker at innocently chosen words, that could be misconstrued as innuendo, because her smirk reveals an innocence that has been shattered.
I wish my students knew that I hate the testing schedule too.
I wish my students knew that don't assign partners because I revel in their disappointment at not getting to choose, but because I don't want him being the last one picked... again.
I wish my students knew that I purposefully sacrifice a totally in-control class for a slightly more chaotic one that allows them to move and dance around because I know how hard it is to sit still.
I wish my students knew the sadness that overtakes my heart (after the initial, selfish relief) when I hear that one of my particularly challenging students has moved because of the reminder that the instability of their home life is what has created those challenging behaviors.
I wish my students knew that their ability to look me in the eye and express their thoughts is more important than their ability to remember an acronym for EGBDF.
I wish my students knew that I intentionally put my dignity aside in order to show them that it's okay to not take yourself so seriously.
I wish my students knew that earning "brownie points" has nothing to do with actual brownies.
I wish my students knew that, yes, I did in fact notice the boy who has fallen asleep in the corner and I am okay with that. Really. We're just playing eighth notes on a maraca, and he didn't eat lunch today or sleep last night.
I wish my students knew that I lose sleep over how to respond when you pretend to choke yourself to get attention. Or when you use the red marker under your nose to try to convince me that you were punched. Or when you immediately react to another child accidentally bumping you by punching that child in the stomach.
I wish my students knew that I lose sleep over these things because I legitimately worry that you are going to be arrested by the time you are in middle school due to the violent patterns you are setting for yourself now. I lose sleep because I am certain that you are setting yourself on this kind of path because this type of violence is normal in your life.
I wish my students knew that I pray for them on my drive to work.
I wish my students knew that I have a "Smile File" that I keep their precious notes (even if I can't read them) and pictures in and these things touch my soul.
I wish that my students knew that yes, of course, it is always okay for you to give me a hug. Always.
I wish that my students knew that I loathe the myriad of detrimental effects to their generation caused by my generation's obsession with the self-esteem movement.
I wish that my students knew that I love them too much to affirm their distracting and horrendous behavior choices by giving them the attention they crave. Even though it drives me up the wall.
I wish my students knew that I hate the phrase "Do I have to sit next to her?"
I wish my students knew that my ultimate goal is not that they can match pitch, keep a steady beat, define "forte," locate a time signature, show me the correct solfege hand signs, or hold a mallet correctly because in a few years, they might not even remember me or anything they did in their elementary school music class. My goal is that they love music. That it becomes part of them. That they want to pursue it on their own. That they enjoy it.
I wish my students knew that I care about them having a quality education, but I also want them to enjoy being kids with active, creative imaginations.
I wish my students knew that I don't teach primarily because I love music, but because I love them.
3.10.2015
Poking and Prodding and Plodding Along with Peter
Bursts of encouraging mental energy often accompany my study of scripture, and I came across this gem this morning:
Prepare your minds for action, and being sober-minded, set your hope fully on the grace that will be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ. -1 Peter 1:13
(Incidentally, before even cracking the Good Book open, I prayed "God, help me love you better with my mind and thoughts." This is was the first verse He answered with. Talk about an instantly-gratified prayer!)
Here's what I love about this. "Prepare your minds for action" means that faithfully hoping in Christ is neither mindless nor passive. It isn't for the weak or simple-minded. It doesn't casually saunter or plod along. It doesn't call for dull doormats. Rather, we are called to wake up, to pursue clarity of thought, to ask questions, to wrestle with scriptural claims, to contemplate, to reason, to deduce, to really think! On the basis of a sober, actively-engaged mind, only then can we fully trust that grace and revelation of Christ.
Blind acceptance of a truth waivers when doubts and trials come along. Passive faith drowns in watered-down theology. The Creator who formed an ordered, logical universe that can be understood by rational minds invites us to use that cerebrum of ours to consider and examine and engage with and poke and prod and ask deep questions of the Words He has given us.
And-- may I just say?-- I love that.
11.26.2013
Solving for the Value of X, where X = [your name]
"Yeah, well, teachers get paid way too much."
Let me pause here by disclosing that this is not about teachers' salaries. Okay, moving on.
This past weekend, as I was speaking with two individuals on a subject totally unrelated to salaries or teachers, that comment worked itself into the conversation. In retrospect, I'm not even sure how. It was there, and then it was gone, and the topic was no more.
We all make off-handed comments from time to time without realizing how they might effect someone else. Ingrained in those comments are assertions of our own values, and yet, so often we express ourselves in such a way that implies them to be indisputable fact.
"Big business owners are corrupt, money-driven charlatans."
"You're a stay-at-home mom? Man, that must be nice."
"It's obscene how much NFL players make!"
"[insert name of a President] is the worst thing in history to happen to this country."
Skimming under the surface in each of those comments is a set of values, and those values are influenced by upbringing, personal experiences, religious beliefs, culture, interests, and general worldview. A friend taking graduate classes for counseling recently described an activity one of her courses required that involved ranking 15 professions in order of importance. This list included everything from doctor to social worker to professional athlete. The point of the exercise was to reveal where your values lie and hint to where you may tend to unconsciously ascribe more or less worth to someone based on what they do. She then went on to talk about how differently her children and classmates ranked these jobs and the conversations that ensued about values.
Making statements akin to "Teachers get paid way too much" speaks volumes more about your personal values than a budgetary analysis of tax dollars. Spoken to a teacher whose husband also happens to be a teacher, it shouts loud and clear, "I do not feel you are worth your salary." Asserting that business owners are corrupt discounts many who are passionate about creating jobs to better people's lives as far as it depends on them. Implying that full-time care of one's own children is a less worthwhile role than full-time caring for others' children displays devalues a practice that has been commonplace for as long as people have walked the Earth. Failing to consider the economic business generated by idolization of wildly successful star athletes (another topic for another time) disregards a primary reason for those massive contracts. And really? One politician serving in a system of checks and balances for a few years is the worst thing to happen to the country in history? Check your History books again.
Nothing here is Earth-shattering. Although everyone can recognize how differently we are wired, what is often missed is the beauty in those differences. We need those who can string series of pitches and rhythms together cohesively from tension to release and resolution to make our ears dance with delight. We need those who can skillfully erect sturdy walls that contain warmth and sound and do not crumble with each annual arrival of hurricane season. We need intelligent minds who have the ability to inspire others to action to better the quality of the lives around them. And if we were all composers or carpenters or public speakers, we would all severely suffer. There is worth in every person and some degree of value in every position. I leave you with this:
For the body does not consist of one member but of many. If the foot should say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less a part of the body. And if the ear should say, “Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less a part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would be the sense of hearing? If the whole body were an ear, where would be the sense of smell? But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose. If all were a single member, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, yet one body.
The eye cannot say to the hand, “I have no need of you,” nor again the head to the feet, “I have no need of you.” On the contrary, the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable... God has so composed the body, giving greater honor to the part that lacked it, that there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another. (1 Corinthians 12:15-25)
Let me pause here by disclosing that this is not about teachers' salaries. Okay, moving on.
This past weekend, as I was speaking with two individuals on a subject totally unrelated to salaries or teachers, that comment worked itself into the conversation. In retrospect, I'm not even sure how. It was there, and then it was gone, and the topic was no more.
We all make off-handed comments from time to time without realizing how they might effect someone else. Ingrained in those comments are assertions of our own values, and yet, so often we express ourselves in such a way that implies them to be indisputable fact.
"Big business owners are corrupt, money-driven charlatans."
"You're a stay-at-home mom? Man, that must be nice."
"It's obscene how much NFL players make!"
"[insert name of a President] is the worst thing in history to happen to this country."
Skimming under the surface in each of those comments is a set of values, and those values are influenced by upbringing, personal experiences, religious beliefs, culture, interests, and general worldview. A friend taking graduate classes for counseling recently described an activity one of her courses required that involved ranking 15 professions in order of importance. This list included everything from doctor to social worker to professional athlete. The point of the exercise was to reveal where your values lie and hint to where you may tend to unconsciously ascribe more or less worth to someone based on what they do. She then went on to talk about how differently her children and classmates ranked these jobs and the conversations that ensued about values.
Making statements akin to "Teachers get paid way too much" speaks volumes more about your personal values than a budgetary analysis of tax dollars. Spoken to a teacher whose husband also happens to be a teacher, it shouts loud and clear, "I do not feel you are worth your salary." Asserting that business owners are corrupt discounts many who are passionate about creating jobs to better people's lives as far as it depends on them. Implying that full-time care of one's own children is a less worthwhile role than full-time caring for others' children displays devalues a practice that has been commonplace for as long as people have walked the Earth. Failing to consider the economic business generated by idolization of wildly successful star athletes (another topic for another time) disregards a primary reason for those massive contracts. And really? One politician serving in a system of checks and balances for a few years is the worst thing to happen to the country in history? Check your History books again.
Nothing here is Earth-shattering. Although everyone can recognize how differently we are wired, what is often missed is the beauty in those differences. We need those who can string series of pitches and rhythms together cohesively from tension to release and resolution to make our ears dance with delight. We need those who can skillfully erect sturdy walls that contain warmth and sound and do not crumble with each annual arrival of hurricane season. We need intelligent minds who have the ability to inspire others to action to better the quality of the lives around them. And if we were all composers or carpenters or public speakers, we would all severely suffer. There is worth in every person and some degree of value in every position. I leave you with this:
For the body does not consist of one member but of many. If the foot should say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less a part of the body. And if the ear should say, “Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less a part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would be the sense of hearing? If the whole body were an ear, where would be the sense of smell? But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose. If all were a single member, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, yet one body.
The eye cannot say to the hand, “I have no need of you,” nor again the head to the feet, “I have no need of you.” On the contrary, the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable... God has so composed the body, giving greater honor to the part that lacked it, that there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another. (1 Corinthians 12:15-25)
11.25.2013
Why I Love Photography
I can pinpoint exactly when I first fell in love with photography. It took exactly two events to turn my indifference into total obsession. Event number one happened in the late fall of 2008 during a First Friday with some friends in Lancaster. We were meandering through several of the coffee shops and art galleries in the city when we came to one that hosted a wall filled with black and white photos featuring a young girl holding a red umbrella. Immediately, your eyes were drawn to the only colored portion of the picture, but with each framed photograph, once you were able to move your eyes to all that surrounded it, the real story was told.
The second event was a visit to the Smithsonian with a friend several months later. We were walking through an exhibit of photo winners displayed in the Museum of Natural History and BAM! I was hooked. These were National Geographic-quality pictures but printed on enormous canvases. Those brief moments in time that will never again take place in exactly the same way told a story. The flawless editing drew you into the artist's world and allowed the subjects to jump out at you.
I have realized that what I love most about photography is that it reveals reality. I can appreciate a painter's artistic ability to recreate or a sculptor's craftiness to get 3-D proportions perfectly, but in my mind, nothing can surpass the beauty of what already exists. In a perpetually moving world, one excellent photograph can allow you to revel in the artistry of one tiny moment in time.
As I've attempted to hone my still incredibly amateurish skills of photographing, this passion has been fueled by the focus that capturing these moments requires. Really looking at a subject- studying it from various angles, analyzing how the light reflects off of and around it, seeing the depth of perspective of everything around it- has given me a greater appreciation for the world around me than I ever had before. Editing encompasses this on an even deeper level as I work to bring out certain colors or bring something in or out of focus.
I have learned to really look around. Beauty is literally everywhere, from angles formed in the distant horizon to the veins of a leaf floating to the ground by your face. Stopping to actually focus on it, whether in the moment or with a photograph's help, is so worth the time.
The second event was a visit to the Smithsonian with a friend several months later. We were walking through an exhibit of photo winners displayed in the Museum of Natural History and BAM! I was hooked. These were National Geographic-quality pictures but printed on enormous canvases. Those brief moments in time that will never again take place in exactly the same way told a story. The flawless editing drew you into the artist's world and allowed the subjects to jump out at you.
I have realized that what I love most about photography is that it reveals reality. I can appreciate a painter's artistic ability to recreate or a sculptor's craftiness to get 3-D proportions perfectly, but in my mind, nothing can surpass the beauty of what already exists. In a perpetually moving world, one excellent photograph can allow you to revel in the artistry of one tiny moment in time.
As I've attempted to hone my still incredibly amateurish skills of photographing, this passion has been fueled by the focus that capturing these moments requires. Really looking at a subject- studying it from various angles, analyzing how the light reflects off of and around it, seeing the depth of perspective of everything around it- has given me a greater appreciation for the world around me than I ever had before. Editing encompasses this on an even deeper level as I work to bring out certain colors or bring something in or out of focus.I have learned to really look around. Beauty is literally everywhere, from angles formed in the distant horizon to the veins of a leaf floating to the ground by your face. Stopping to actually focus on it, whether in the moment or with a photograph's help, is so worth the time.
10.18.2013
Cheapskate
I am a self-proclaimed cheapskate. In areas where I have primary jurisdiction over spending money, I do what I can to not pay more than is necessary for things. I had a three-minute soul search earlier this week over whether to purchase a shirt that was 70% off the regular price at Kohl's, plus an additional 20%. I really liked the shirt, but it was $9. Knowing I could probably find similar item for less at Goodwill made me think twice... And thrice... And whatever comes after thrice. (I wound up getting it, and no, have not looked back since). Being a good steward of money is important to me, but so is my time. Extreme couponing and traveling to a grocery store just for one item that is a great price isn't worth the trade off.
Having said that, I've picked up several household and food-related tips that save us money and time (in the long run). I'm aware that there are limitless websites that contain similar ideas.
1- The freezer is your friend. When they are in season, I find a farmers market or pick-your-own place, get a buku of stuff, peel, chop, bag, and freeze. (Many friends who swear by canning because of the threat of power failures and the potential to lose everything. What can I say? I like living dangerously). This year, I did peaches, raspberries (red and purple), blueberries, blackberries, peaches (diced and pie filling) peppers (bell and various hot), tomatoes, pumpkin, apples (in the form of applesauce, pie filling, and apple butter) and onions. The only painful one is onions, but grab a candle, crackers, tissues, chemistry goggles, or whatever helps you get through a big bag of tear-inducing veggies. I've got all I need for the year and got it at low prices. It's ready to use and is still fresh-tasting once thawed.
2- Laundry detergent that doesn't come with a soft, high-voiced, annoying bear. It's a ton cheaper without loads of unpronounceable chemicals and blue dye #3.14. The one I've found that I love uses water, washing soda, borax, and bar soap.
3- Ditch the deoderant. There are tons of homemade deodorant recipes out there but I've found that using a dusting of baking soda lasts longer than store-bought chemical-sweat-suppressors. I was a bit leery at first, but after a day, I was totally convinced. Again, waaaay cheaper.
Lastly, this isn't exactly a tip, but is worth every second you spend peeling and coring: Goodness, gracious, great balls of apple butter, try this immediately: http://www.mybakingaddiction.com/crock-pot-slow-cooker-apple-butter-recipe/
Having said that, I've picked up several household and food-related tips that save us money and time (in the long run). I'm aware that there are limitless websites that contain similar ideas.
1- The freezer is your friend. When they are in season, I find a farmers market or pick-your-own place, get a buku of stuff, peel, chop, bag, and freeze. (Many friends who swear by canning because of the threat of power failures and the potential to lose everything. What can I say? I like living dangerously). This year, I did peaches, raspberries (red and purple), blueberries, blackberries, peaches (diced and pie filling) peppers (bell and various hot), tomatoes, pumpkin, apples (in the form of applesauce, pie filling, and apple butter) and onions. The only painful one is onions, but grab a candle, crackers, tissues, chemistry goggles, or whatever helps you get through a big bag of tear-inducing veggies. I've got all I need for the year and got it at low prices. It's ready to use and is still fresh-tasting once thawed.
2- Laundry detergent that doesn't come with a soft, high-voiced, annoying bear. It's a ton cheaper without loads of unpronounceable chemicals and blue dye #3.14. The one I've found that I love uses water, washing soda, borax, and bar soap.
3- Ditch the deoderant. There are tons of homemade deodorant recipes out there but I've found that using a dusting of baking soda lasts longer than store-bought chemical-sweat-suppressors. I was a bit leery at first, but after a day, I was totally convinced. Again, waaaay cheaper.
Lastly, this isn't exactly a tip, but is worth every second you spend peeling and coring: Goodness, gracious, great balls of apple butter, try this immediately: http://www.mybakingaddiction.com/crock-pot-slow-cooker-apple-butter-recipe/
9.23.2013
Beyond the Duct Tape Fix
Enter: the new thing in life right now. In June, my husband and I joined the Marching Ravens because that's what music teachers-who-are-too-old-for-DCI-and-too-nerdy-not-to-give-up-the-once-held-passion-of-performing-in-front-of-massive-crowds-of-unsuspecting-fans-who-thought-they-were-going-to-watch-a-football-game do. Every game day, we arrive at the practice facility several hours before kick-off to practice the pregame and halftime show. During this rehearsal, a brief incident (probably 15 seconds, max) took place that I've been thinking about on and off ever since.
A little background info, first: At the end of the pregame show, we form RAVENS on the field and launch into the fight song. I stand at the top of the R which lines up with the rest of the other letters in line across the field. The move immediately prior requires that I march in a backward diagonal leading into this line. For anyone who has marched before, you know that keeping in the form trumps getting to your exact, assigned blade of grass on the field. So if you're in a line or form that is moving too slowly, you sacrifice your exact destination for maintaining the shape.
So we were moving into this shape, but the line was about a yard closer to the sideline than it is supposed to be. On the last step, several people in the middle (where everything is based off of) realized this and took a huge step backward on the last count. Because I (and others close to me) had been in line but couldn't react to this compensation, we wound up being about a step closer to the sideline and slightly out of formation. Now, this is practice. It's the time to fix things and make final adjustments. As soon as the song concluded, another band member stormed over to me and yelled, "You HAVE GOT to stay in LINE. You are WAY too far forward!" I expressed that I had been in line but couldn't react in time when the center of the line took a big step back on the last count of the move. She swore, spun around, and went back to her spot.
This woman has never spoken a word to me before, she isn't a section leader, and felt that, regardless of reason, me being a step out of formation was justification enough to walk 15 yards to loudly confront me about it. I don't mind that she said something to me about it, but in mulling it over a bit more, I started seeing similar patterns. What is it that allows us to feel yelling at someone is an acceptable thing to do?
What is yelling anyway? I'm not talking about calling the dog from outside; I mean angrily expressing one's point of view toward another. It assumes fault based on personal perspective and conveys, "You screwed up, you inconvenienced me, you should feel badly, and now go fix it!" Yelling dehumanizes the other person by devaluing them... and usually over something simple that really isn't that big of a deal. I'm certainly not advocating for a coddling culture, nor am I suggesting that we habitually overlook things that should be corrected.
But what if we considered briefly, before opening our mouths, that the recipient of our words (and, perhaps more importantly, the tone of our words) is someone who has purpose and put thought behind their actions? We would see the person as more important than the actions they do. We might discover that the action we thought needed to be corrected is just a byproduct of incorrect thinking. If we discovered this, we could more quickly get to the root of the problem rather than a duct-tape fix on the surface.
...Though duct-tape is pretty amazing.
9.09.2013
Of Writing and the Me Monster
Now that our house is back into the swing of the school schedule (it's more like a tire swing spinning around and around than a leisurely back-and-forth-pump-your-feet type of swing), I have been trying to prioritize the various aspects of my life. What is energy sapping but worth it? What is energy sapping and not worth it? What keeps me going and brings joy to those around me? What can I do with my time that blesses and uplifts my husband?
I decided in May that I wanted to build regularly writing into my schedule once the fall started up rather than just fitting it in when I felt inspired. For a few years now, I have been tossing around an idea for a book on a subject that published media seems to be severely lacking. It seemed like now would be a good time to build the discipline of regularly writing to coincide with this whole book endeavor.
In the two weeks that have passed, I have quickly realized the big temptation that is present when the idea is to capture thoughts into words on a topic that little has been written... With the eventual intent that others will read. That temptation is to allow, as Brian Regan* so perfectly puts it, the "Me Monster" to influence my attitude. The Me Monster manifests itself by suggesting, sometimes subtly, other times with zero subtlety, "Wow, you're pretty important, aren't you?" "Yeah, yeah. I AM pretty special. I am sure something else, huh!" I don't mean to say that what I am writing is NOT important, but what is becoming more evident is that whenever we offer our own opinion on a given subject, whether through conversation, a blog post, a potential book manuscript, it can be easy to think much higher of oneself than is realistic. Yes, what you have to say matters, but it isn't the end-all-be-all-trump-card of opinions. Please pray that God would continue to grow me through humility.
*if you don't know what I am talking about, see the first minute or so of the following stand-up gem:
I decided in May that I wanted to build regularly writing into my schedule once the fall started up rather than just fitting it in when I felt inspired. For a few years now, I have been tossing around an idea for a book on a subject that published media seems to be severely lacking. It seemed like now would be a good time to build the discipline of regularly writing to coincide with this whole book endeavor.
In the two weeks that have passed, I have quickly realized the big temptation that is present when the idea is to capture thoughts into words on a topic that little has been written... With the eventual intent that others will read. That temptation is to allow, as Brian Regan* so perfectly puts it, the "Me Monster" to influence my attitude. The Me Monster manifests itself by suggesting, sometimes subtly, other times with zero subtlety, "Wow, you're pretty important, aren't you?" "Yeah, yeah. I AM pretty special. I am sure something else, huh!" I don't mean to say that what I am writing is NOT important, but what is becoming more evident is that whenever we offer our own opinion on a given subject, whether through conversation, a blog post, a potential book manuscript, it can be easy to think much higher of oneself than is realistic. Yes, what you have to say matters, but it isn't the end-all-be-all-trump-card of opinions. Please pray that God would continue to grow me through humility.
*if you don't know what I am talking about, see the first minute or so of the following stand-up gem:
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