Big Decision-Little Decision

A teenager of my acquaintance recently declared his unwillingness to discuss with anyone what he is deciding regarding his life.  He does not want to be asked if he is planning to finish high school or get his GED or just drop out completely.  He figures it is his choice.

There are two things wrong with his thinking….

1.        He doesn’t realize it, but he has already made his decision to drop out.  He hasn’t attended school in about six weeks.  He did not make the BIG decision to drop out.  He made many LITTLE decisions that added up to the big one.  He repeatedly stayed out most of the night and decided not to get up in the morning.  No individual morning sleep-in caused him to drop out, but the combination certainly did.  He has missed sufficient school at this point, that the academic year is irretrievable.

2.       He mistakenly thinks that his decisions impact only him.  This is a pretty common misconception among teenagers and young people in their early twenties.  They do not understand that the day will come when they are really in a mess, and then they will turn to their family.  Their flippant and self-centered decisions will “cost” their family in some way….time, money, stress.  In fact, it is already costing his family as he sits around playing video games and making no tangible contribution to the household.

I do not believe I have ever made a major decision.  By the time I reached the point where I had to declare myself one way or another, I had made a series of minor decision which led me to a point of inevitability.  Education, career, marriage partner, job changes, living situations….all may seem like big choices, but it is easy to slide into any one of them based on little every day choices.  That is why we need to learn to seek guidance from Someone who sees the big picture.  As a Christian, I believe in a daily recommitment of myself to live by principles found in the Bible.

Important among these principles are the notion of honoring ones parents and loving ones neighbor as oneself.  This eliminates many poor choices.  If I keep this in mind, I will not think that my decisions only affect me.  I will avoid paths which are selfish and which will be costly or harmful to others.

How I wish there was a way to impart this wisdom!  It is painful to watch a young person in self-destruct mode.  I think back to another young person to whom I said, “I am jumping up and down and screaming at you, ‘The bridge is out!  The bridge is out!’  But you have your foot on the accelerator and are roaring past me toward the edge of the cliff.”

It has been painful and costly in multiple ways.

Memories of My Mother

Fourteen years ago today,

My dear, dear Mother slipped away.

The color draining from her cheeks,

Her body silent ‘neath the sheets.

I knew that the day was near,

I knew I could not keep her here,

I tried so hard to ease her pain,

I knew my efforts were in vain.

I was grateful for the sweet release,

Her weary face at last at peace.

But, from her bed, I saw the tree,

Wondered, “What would Christmas be?”

Outside the ground was cold, but green,

No white Christmas, it would seem,

Yet  as I watched her body die,

White flakes descended from the sky.

A final gift of wintery white,

As her spirit took its flight,

These the memories I recall,

Each year when Christmas snowflakes fall.

I Went to Jail This Morning

I sat there alone for some time in the jail reception area with no particular desire to converse with the other folks waiting.  It’s not that I felt superior to the rest of the visitors, but I didn’t have much in common with some of the attitudes being expressed.  Two women who apparently were there to see the same man talked with each other, and the air was electric with their contempt for one other.  My guess is that one was the mother and the other the girlfriend.  Eventually the younger woman stalked out.  The older woman said aloud to no one in particular, “Can you guess I don’t like her?  If she dropped dead right here, I wouldn’t give her CPR.” 

When the reception window opened, we all went up to sign in, surrender our IDs and receive a badge to wear during the visit.  I returned to my previous seat and found it had been taken by an attractive and dressed-better-than-most, forty-ish woman.  I sat down next to her.  She was there to visit her son.  I was there to visit my granddaughter’s boyfriend.  I’m not even sure how the conversation began.

She didn’t want to be there, but felt obligated to come.  Her son would always be her son, in spite of his poor choices.  She had raised him until he was 12, and then he had gone to live with her ex-husband.  She remarried and has daughters who are good students and cause no trouble.  Her son has been in jail before.  Recently they helped him get set up in an apartment.  He got a job.  They thought this was the time he would be successful.  But, here she was visiting him in jail….again.  She never did tell me exactly what he had done.

I didn’t want to be there, but felt obligated to come.  The biological and adoptive family members of my granddaughter’s boyfriend do not visit him.  My granddaughter can’t visit him, because there is a “stay-away” order.  I couldn’t think of anyone else who would visit him, so I figured it was my job.  But, it isn’t fun to visit someone in jail.

I have been in jails many times in my life.  From childhood through my teen years, I attended a church which held monthly services at a local prison.  I went frequently.  I sang solos there.  Later as a professional person, I visited jails to offer health services and information to staff.  Of course, I went through metal detectors and listened to the doors lock behind me, but that was not as dehumanizing as going to visit a prisoner.  You are required to be there 30 minutes before the visit begins or you are turned away.  After signing in and surrendering your ID, you wait.  You are then herded into an entry room and the door locked behind you.  From there, you go into a locker room.  All of your personal items must be placed in a locker.  You take nothing with you from that room but the clothes on your back and the locker key.  Next are the metal detector, and another room and another locked door.  Finally, you enter the visit room.  The prisoners are already seated at small tables.  You are allowed a brief hug and then you sit opposite the person you are visiting for one hour.  You cannot leave early or wander about the room.  A guard sits at an elevated desk constantly observing.

The visit is over.  I smile at the lady I talked with earlier and ask if her visit went OK.  She nods with a bit of a smile playing on her lips but sorrow in her eyes. 

We never even exchanged names.  I suppose we each like our anonymity, but we share a sad and heavy common bond.

Broken World

Broken world,

Broken lives.

Scattered fragmented pieces,

Rather than beauty and wholeness.

Violent thoughts,

Violent deeds,

Actions filled with hatred,

In the place of comfort and love.

Babe in a manager,

Savior on a cross,

Your purpose was healing.

We are guilty of wounding.

Our fractured world,

Our broken land,

Our sinful hearts cry out,

Only you can make us whole.

All creation groans,

 In anticipation,

Make the crooked straight,

Make the rough places plain.

You came once humbly,

Come now in power.

May every knee bow to you alone,

Creator, Sustainer, Sovereign Lord.

Merciful Father,

Hear our cry!

Evolution and Despair

I just watched a clip on "Through the Wormhole" about "Directed Evolution."  The premise is that as humans advance in genetic technology, we will be able to control our own evolution, and that if we want to continue to "evolve," we must do so.

There are some things in this piece that leave me scratching my head in wonder.

The statement is made that "evolution is a random process that usually leads to dead ends."  Hey!  I believe that, and it is exactly why I believe in an intelligent Creator bringing about the world and everything in it.  The odds are astronomically against complex organisms developing by chance. Evolutionists supposedly think we (creationists and intelligent designers) are silly to believe this, but now here is an argument by an evolutionist that what we have said all along is true.  So, now since evolution doesn't work all that well on its own, we must tinker with our genes to continue improving our species.

I don't think we are yet anywhere near wise enough or knowledgeable enough to begin this tinkering.  We are not much past the now debunked belief that our DNA contains lots of "junk" that has no purpose.  Until we know the ramifications of our tinkering, we need to proceed with excessive precautions, lest we alter something we think has no purpose and discover we were mistaken.

The psychological impact of these beliefs is enormous.  It we are just the product of chance and need to start directing our own genetics to improve, we are subject to despair.  I am an accident.  I have no intrinsic worth.  My offspring will be as bad off as I am unless I figure out how to improve my own genes.  But if I don't know how to go about this or don't have the money to pay for it, my children are doomed to be as bad off as I am. What is the point?

Contrast this with:  I am a unique creation of a loving God.  He planned for my existence.  He desires to know me and help me to live a meaningful life.  My life and that of my offspring can be trusted to Him.

I am horrified by the number of teens and young adults I meet who believe that they are without value and that their lives are meaningless. Believing in our random evolution has consequences for emotional health.  Not only is it intellectually dishonest, it is foolish, emotional suicide.

Advent Wreath

The church I currently attend generally has an Advent Wreath for the Sundays leading up to Christmas.  Finding a pink candle is sometimes a problem.  This year I volunteered to put the wreath together.  I was really proud of myself for finding a pink candle, until I remembered that the only one I could find was scented, and one of the members of our congregation has allergies which might be triggered by the wafting aroma.

So...I decided to solve the problem permanently.  I purchased a 12 inch square piece of craft plywood, 5 electric candles and a piece of Christmas garland.  I knew I had colored cellophane at home.  

I painted the wooden square green.  While  it was drying, I wrapped 3 candles in purple cellophane and one in pink cellophane, gluing the overlap of the paper.  When the paint and glue were dry, I glued the five candles in place.  The white one in the center and the other four set in a bit from each of the corners. 

 I flattened the cords against the board and used a staple gun to secure the cords to the board positioning them so that they all came off the same side (what would be the back side) close together.  I wrapped the cords together with duct tape to make them easier to manage.  I marked the switches in sequence 1 through 5.  I then arranged the garland around the candles.

I now have an Advent Wreath that won't burn the church down or cause an allergic reaction.
Also...I won't have to go on a quest for a pink candle again next year.

Crazy??? Maybe Not!

My family tree is full of women named Ruth.  I was named after my mother's baby sister who died as an infant.  However, I had two other Aunt Ruths, and one of them, who had married into the family, was generally viewed as rocking off the edge of sanity.

Aunt Ruth was a high-strung, nervous woman, who never seemed as mentally agile as most of the family.  She and my uncle apparently enjoyed arguing...it was their relationship style.  He did, however, always get the best of her.  He used to threaten that if she died first, he would see to it that the hearse was put at the end of the procession to the cemetery, because she had never been any place on time in her entire life, and he wouldn't want her to feel uncomfortable at her own funeral.

Aunt Ruth had some bizarre habits.  If she invited someone for dinner, they needed to plan on the meal being at least two hours later than she had said it would be served. I once watched her fuss over every minute detail during those two hours, even though the meal was not elaborate.  When she wished to cover a bowl before placing in it the refrigerator, she did not use plastic wrap or foil or a lid.  Nope, she placed a sheet of waxed paper over the bowl and spent an eternity taking tiny tucks in the paper to crimp it to the edge of the bowl.

One of the things that caused people to think she was really nuts, was her insistence that when my uncle retired, she was retiring also.  She had never worked outside of the home, so her definition of retiring was that she was no longer going to fix dinner.  Since she began refusing to allow anyone into their home, I am suspicious that she may have also stopped cleaning.  I was not able to verify that, but she actually did follow through on her threat to stop preparing meals,  They went out to dinner every evening after my uncle retired.

My husband and I are now retirement age, and I'm starting to think she wasn't as crazy as we all thought.  I haven't yet tired of meal preparation, but I certainly have tired of the clean up afterward.  I have a dishwasher, and some evenings my husband is quite helpful.  But...I am definitely growing weary of dirty dishes.  I have pondered the use of paper plates, but I don't like to eat from them on a regular basis, and I would still have to deal with the pans and other utensils used to prepare the meal.

"Retiring" as defined by my "crazy" Aunt Ruth is starting to look like an attractive option.

My Grandmother's Song

It seems strange to me that a song my Grandmother sang to me when I was a small child comes to my mind so frequently.  I find myself singing it while driving along in the car.  Sometimes the words play soundlessly in my mind. 

My Grandmother died at the age of 68, when I was thirteen.  My memories of her do not extend over a long period of time, but since we lived with her and my Grandfather at times when I was young, my memories are deep.

I can recall how it felt to sit on her lap and hear her frail, but true to pitch, voice.

Jesus bids us shine,

With a pure, clear light,

Like a little candle,

Burning in the night.

In this world of darkness,

Bids us shine--

You in your small corner,

And I in mine.

This represents a slight alteration in words from the original, but it is the way I remember her singing it.

If Grandma had lived longer, allowing for adult level discussion, I might have inquired about the meaning of this song in her life.  Was it just a children’s song, she thought I would enjoy?  Was she purposely trying to instill its meaning in my young mind?  Was what she believed in her heart flowing out without specific thought as to its impact on me?

I know there have been long periods in my life….perhaps, years….when I haven’t thought of this song.  But, now that I am the age at which I last remember my Grandma Baumeister, the song has resurfaced and imbedded itself in my mental playlist.

And so...

Jesus bids us shine….you in your small corner, and I in mine.

Between a Hard Place and the Rock

Between a Hard Place and the Rock

A hard place...
            rends my heart
            fills my mind
            crushes my spirit.

So I...
            run to the refuge of
            flee to the shadow of
            crawl to the shelter of

The Rock.

Point of Tension

Those of us who have a Christian commitment need to be honest with ourselves about the tension between belief and unbelief that exists at our very core.  We live in a physical world where the things which seem most real are those we can touch, taste, smell, hear and see.  Tangibles represent a certain security.  However, as “believers,” we also live in a spiritual world which is only spiritually discerned.  At times that dimension can seem more real than the physical, but at other times, we struggle to hang on.  It is easy to believe when life is cruising along without bumps in the road.  It is much more difficult when hardship and discouragement descend and the way ahead seems impassable.

We are not alone.  Job was a man of enormous faith, but when he experienced great suffering, he swung from despair to ecstasy and back again.

                Job 9:33  If only there were someone to arbitrate between us, to lay his hand upon us both, someone to remove God’s rod from me, so that his terror would frighten me no more.

                Job 10:18  Why did you bring me out of the womb?  I wish I had died before any eye saw me.

                Job 19:25  I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand upon the earth.  And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God.

In the New Testament, a man with a demon-possessed son comes to Christ.  His dilemma is the same.  He has watched in grief as his son has been tormented, and there seems to be no cure.

                Mark 9:21-21  Jesus asked the boy’s father, “How long has he been like this?” 

                “From childhood,” he answered.  “It has often thrown him into fire or water to kill him.  But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.”

                “If you can?” said Jesus.  “Everything is possible for him who believes.”

                Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”

The King James Version says this more poetically:  “Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.”

Personally, at times of great difficulty and discouragement, when I have questioned God’s existence and whether faith in Him had validity, I have come to the point of thinking, “If there is no solution to my situation in faith, there is no solution anywhere.  I chose to believe……Lord, help my unbelief.”

I would encourage those with doubts, not to beat up on themselves.  God “remembers that we are dust.” (Psalm 103:14)  He did not browbeat the boy’s father or refuse to heal the boy because the father had a sliver of unbelief.  He accepted the faith that the man did have and responded by healing the son.

God accepts our honest questions today, just as He accepted those of Job.  We do not have to fear approaching the God of the universe, because He is also a loving father who knows our weaknesses.

The Value of a Home

Two years ago we decided that the responsible thing to do at our stage in life was to downsize.  We considered various ways of going about this, but given my husband’s tendency to procrastinate until a deadline looms, he thought we should go out and buy another house and then put our home of 34 years on the market.  I do think this was the right approach.  Cleaning up a 34 year collection was a huge task and a lengthy transition time was needed.  Had we sold the old place before looking for a new place, I have no idea how we would have ever gotten out in a timely fashion.

Admittedly, we haven’t actually “gotten out” totally.  My husband has not yet moved the entire contents of his den….there is a walk-in closet jammed with old software and computers.  A family member still has some items in the carriage house, and the antique  pump organ is still in the basement awaiting a decision.  But, basically we are moved out and the house has been on the market for two years.

We have had some nibbles, but no sale.  The real estate agent helped us set the price, and it does not seem unreasonable.  Recently a house across the street sold for 6% less than we are asking.  Our house has 6 bedrooms compared to 4 in that house, 4 bathrooms compared to 2 ½, two fireplaces compared to one, 3 porches compared to one, a carriage house compared to a two-stall garage, and our lot is significantly bigger.  Based on that, our price seems like a bargain.

Regarding condition of the homes….that house has been updated in terms of decorating.  Having walls painted in very deep shades is currently popular.  But, that is purely cosmetic…an easy and inexpensive fix.  Just before putting our home on the market, I had resurfaced the doors on the kitchen cupboards, had the kitchen painted and papered and put down new laminate flooring.  A couple of months ago, I had the counter-top replaced with a new and attractive material.

So…why is our lovely family home sitting there empty?

*Is the size of the home a negative?  Most families don’t need 6 bedrooms.  They don’t know they need 4 bathrooms until their daughters become teenagers.

*Is the size of the lot a negative?  I will grant you that mowing and leaf raking the property are daunting!

*Do I need to replace the carpet on the back stairs?  It is looking old and tired.

*Is there a paint or paper redo that would make the house more attractive to a buyer?

*I have been told the kitchen is too narrow.  Should I move one of our tables back over there so prospective buyers can visualize how a table fits in the space.  Granted, it may be too narrow if the occupants of the house are “oversized.”

OR

Is it possible that we overvalue the house, because, for us, it is so full of wonderful memories?

I remember the amazing 80 by 80 skating rink my husband created in the back yard several years.  The kids put their skates on in the kitchen and spent hours out there.  Other children came from blocks around and said it was the best ice in the city.

Our daughters did gymnastics in that huge living room.  Our son set up boxes as “hurdles” and ran through the rooms, leaping over them.

The porches were play areas on rainy days.  The second floor porch was a great place to sit and relax after the kids were in bed at night.

The 10-foot ceiling in the living room allowed for a massive Christmas tree.  I had a frame that fit in the large front window on the second floor, and I created a “stained-glass” window with colored cellophane for the holidays.  A group of young adults once made a haunted house in the basement.

The front hall window faces west and has prism glass.  Late in the afternoon when the sun is low in the sky, rainbows are thrown across the front hall and into the living room.

It wasn’t uncommon to host a party with 50 to 70 guests.  The kitchen was very functional for large scale entertaining and both the living room and dining room are spacious.

The third floor suite was often occupied by long-term house-guests….friends needing a place to live for weeks or months.

On occasion when the power was out (e.g. during ice storms), our house was full of short-term guests, because we had an old coal-burning furnace in the basement in which we could put a wood fire, and thus, keep the house warm even without electricity.

On cold winter days, one of my daughters curled up in cat-fashion on the carpet in the sunbeams streaming in a south-facing window.

No dollar value can be put on memories.  A family living in a home must make its own memories.  So, how do I place a value on my old home? 

What is it worth?

One of the Perils of Cold-Calling

My dear husband has an unusually high pitched voice for a man.  I, of course, noticed this when I first met him, but after a few minutes of conversation, I forgot all about it.  It has actually been an advantage in singing together over the years, since I am a soprano, and he is basically an alto.  So, I never think about the pitch of his voice anymore unless something happens that causes someone else to notice or comment. 

He has always hated phone calls. I attribute a small part of this to his voice and the vast majority of it to being male.  But, it is true that he is often mistaken for a woman on the phone.  I sometimes overhear him trying to convince a caller that he really is the man of the house.

A few years ago when he was still working full time, it was not unusual for him to receive calls at the office from someone trying to sell him something.  His secretary was very good at screening his calls and preventing unwanted interruptions.  However, one day his secretary was off, and there was a substitute taking his calls.  The poor woman became quite distressed over a particularly aggressive salesman who kept calling back over and over.  She could not get rid of him.  Finally, realizing that the situation was upsetting her, my husband told her that the next time the man called, she could connect him.

So when the salesman called again, the secretary connected him.  My husband answered and identified himself by name.  The salesman retorted, “Listen, lady, I don’t care how you try to disguise your voice.  I know it’s still you.”

My husband calmly replied, “Well, I guess you don’t want to talk to me very badly,” and hung up.

The salesman never called back.

My husband enjoyed telling me the story.  I enjoyed picturing the look on the salesman’s face and the confusion in his brain as he sorted out what had just happened.

Why Aren't Canadians Home Eating Turkey?

It is Columbus Day weekend in the US and Canadian Thanksgiving across the border.  We both have a long weekend.  I have observed this weekend that an awful lot of Canadians are not home eating turkey and pumpkin pie.  They have driven into the US and are evident in our stores in large numbers. 

Saturday I had reason to spend 2 hours at a table at the entrance to a department store in the local mall.  I did not keep careful statistics, but I talked to nearly everyone entering the store, and my guess is that about 75% of the customers were Canadian.  Today, I was at a store in one of the plazas near I-81, which runs straight to the Canadian border, and there were many, many Canadian license plates on the cars in the parking lot.

If you talk to these Canadian shoppers, you will learn that they save money by coming into the States to make purchases.  Their sales tax is almost twice as high as ours.  Many of these same Canadians brag about their government provided healthcare coverage.  They do not understand how a civilized society, such as that in the US, can be so negligent in not providing universal coverage.

Hmmm....wait a minute here.  Is it possible that they want universal coverage, but they don't want to pay the price?

As someone who has worked in the healthcare field and who has family members currently on government run programs, here are some things I know:
*the healthcare system in the US is broken.
*it is heart-breaking to meet people who need medical care they can't afford.
*those who are already covered by medical programs in the US frequently take advantage of the services in ways that are more expensive than necessary, because they aren't paying for it themselves..
*people in the US who have no insurance and self-pay, are charged more than those with insurance, since the insurance companies make agreements with healthcare providers.
*Canadians like their health care coverage.
*Canadians don't like their tax rate.

So, here you have plenty of material to start arguing either for or against universal coverage.  But, one thing is clear, if we get universal coverage, and goods and services become more expensive as a result, we won't be able to save money by driving up to Canada to buy things.

And that is why many Canadians are not home eating turkey and pumpkin pie today.

Now Strengthen My Hands

They were all trying to frighten us, thinking, “Their hands will get too weak for the work, and it will not be completed.”  But I prayed, “Now strengthen my hands.”  Nehemiah 6:9

So the wall was completed….our enemies lost their self-confidence, because they realized that this work had been done with the help of our God.  Nehemiah 6:15, 16

Stepping out of the fog of adolescence,

Embarking on the maze of decisions,

Establishing myself in the adult world,

Now strengthen my hands.

Finding a soul-mate and partner,

Committing to love forever,

Learning to live together,

Now strengthen my hands.

Answering the cries of an infant,

Running after the toddler,

Instilling values in the child,

Now strengthen my hands.

Hanging on for the wild ride,

Living through teen years from the other side,

Providing the platform from which they dive,

Now strengthen my hands.

Watching talents slip away with age,

Moving more slowly and carefully,

Prioritizing prayerfully,

Now strengthen my hands.

Completing the mission,

Reaching the finish line,

Passing the baton,

Now strengthen my hands.

Alcestis by Euripides

At the rate I am going there is no way I will get through all of the Great Book Series before I expire.  I am seriously considering skipping over the rest of the works of Euripides.  I don’t like his attitude toward women.  In two of his prior works, he has expressed that it would be great if men could procreate without involving women.  In Alcestis, he apparently concedes the necessity of women to bring about off-spring, but I’m not so sure that he isn’t pleased with the notion of them dying shortly after they accomplish this function.

Admetus has been doomed to die unless he can get someone to take his place and go to Hades for him.  No one steps forward to do this.  He is miffed at his parents.  They are old anyway….shouldn’t they be willing to die for him?  He says this in so many words to his elderly father.

His dear precious wife, mother of his children, is the only one who loves him enough to die for him.  A considerable part of the play is taken up with her taking leave of her husband and children and bemoaning her fate.  She extracts a promise from Admetus that he will not remarry, because she is concerned about how a stepmother would treat her children.  He promises to remain true to her even after she is gone.  He will have an image of her made and hold that in his arms.

Shortly after she actually dies, Hercules arrives on the scene.  He is on his way to accomplish one of his Herculean tasks, and he is looking for lodging from his friend Admetus.  Admetus doesn’t want to be inhospitable, so he doesn’t let on to Hercules that his wife his just died.  Hercules eventually figures out that everyone is in mourning, and that he is being a bit too jovial for the occasion.

Hercules manages to ambush Death and return Alcestis to her home.  However, she is not allowed to speak for three days, and he presents her to Admetus veiled and without explaining who she really is.  Admetus repeatedly refuses to take this woman into his home lest he be disloyal to his recently deceased wife.  Eventually he figures out that it is his wife, and he is overjoyed.

Observations:

What a wimp!  I thought men were supposed to protect their wives.  He seems to think it is just fine if she dies for him.

Euripides apparently likes women either dead or unable to speak.

His real point apparently is stated in the closing paragraph:  Many are the shapes that fortune takes, and oft the gods bring things to pass beyond our expectation.  That which we deemed so sure is not fulfilled, while for that we never thought should be, God finds out a way.

Music Fell on My Head

When my son was about two years old, he made a startling unsolicited statement.  "You know Mommy, when I was in your tummy, I could not hear your voice, but music fell on my head."

I often sat down at the piano to play and sing during my pregnancy.  I continued to sing in a choir and to sing solos during those months. But, this revelation left me speechless and full of questions.

Could he possibly be remembering something that happened before his birth?
Do all children have pre-birth memories, but most forget them before they are articulate enough to express them?
Was it possible that the vibrations he now knew were associated with music were familiar to him from the womb?

Twenty-six years later, I am still pondering these questions and others.

What happens if what falls on an unborn child's head is loud, angry and profane?
If a child does not have the vocabulary to express the negative vibrations he has experienced, does it come out in behavior?

How I wish that every unborn child felt soothing music fall on his or her head.  Shouldn't every child emerge from the womb having already experienced a lullaby? 

Peanut Butter Sandwiches and Other Weapons

Periodically the peanut butter sandwich controversy rears its head.  I saw some online discussion again today about a child whose PBJ was confiscated at a school which has a “no PBJ” policy.  One side complains that this is an infringement on the right of a mother to lovingly make the sandwich of her child’s choice.  The other side says that the sandwich is potentially life threatening to allergic children who have a right to be safe at school.

As the mother of a son who grew up with life-threatening allergies to milk, eggs, peanuts and tree nuts (e.g. walnuts, pecans), I see both sides of this issue.  It seems totally unfair to declare that no child can have a peanut butter sandwich at school.  It is a favorite that provides protein along with the carbohydrate and fat, so it is a reasonable nutritious option.  It is easy….a child can even make the sandwich himself. 

BUT 

Some allergic children cannot even tolerate the odor of peanut butter or the slightest accidental contact with it.  Suppose the tables aren’t adequately wiped after lunch and an allergic child eats in that spot at the next lunch hour?   Suppose some mean kid decides it would be funny to sneak a fragment between the bread slices of an allergic child’s sandwich?

Some schools have a special table that is peanut free.  That only works if the situation is adequately supervised, and it doesn’t help the child who is allergic to foods other than peanuts.  I was concerned about someone clowning around and shooting milk out of their straw in the direction of my son.  A splash on the arm would have only caused a few hives, but had he gotten milk in his eyes it would have been a different matter entirely.  As a teen he attended a graduation party where pizza was served.  He did not eat any, but after the meal the kids all went out and played basketball.  Most had not washed their hands.  The cheese residue from their hands was transferred to the ball and from there to my unsuspecting son’s hands.  As he played ball, he wiped perspiration out of his eyes with his hands, and WHAM…he was in a lot of trouble fast.  On another occasion, he was at an event where kids were building their own ice cream sundaes.  Two of the attendees picked up aerosol cans of cream and started running around trying to shoot each other with the cream.  My son jumped up and ran for the nearest exit lest he get caught in the crossfire.  Adult supervision quickly stopped this unauthorized warfare, but suppose my son hadn’t noticed what was going on and had been an unintended casualty?

So what to do?  I solved a lot of the problem by homeschooling my son.  It was not the primary reason I chose to home school him, but it was a contributing factor.  However, everyone cannot make this choice.  Not all mothers possess the ability to home school, or it may be financially necessary for both parents to work.

Certainly having a child who is educated about his/her own allergy is helpful, but what if the child is too young to understand or not mentally agile enough to comprehend the risk?

From the school’s perspective, if they allow PBJs, are they committing to supervise the situation closely?  Are they going to adequately train the cafeteria monitors?

I am not in favor of banning peanut butter sandwiches.

I am in favor of education of teachers, cafeteria workers, lunch monitors, and children….both the allergic and the non-allergic.  Education about other disabilities is included in the curriculum.  Food allergies are a significant disability.

I am in favor of careful attention by those supervising the lunch room, so that out of control situations potentially dangerous to the allergic child do not happen.  Lunch monitors should know that maintaining order is essential to safety.

I am in favor of Benadryl and auto-injecting epinephrine syringes being on site and available for use…even without a prescription specific to a given child.  If there is no on site nurse, someone in the school must be trained to recognize the signs of an allergic reaction and respond appropriately.  When a child goes into anaphylaxis, there is no time to stand around trying to decide what to do.

No child should suffer death by peanut butter sandwich.  No child should have to live with the notion that his favorite sandwich killed his favorite friend.

No Remedy

The Lord, the God of their fathers, sent word to them through his messengers again and again, because he had pity on his people and on his dwelling place.  But they mocked God’s messengers, despised his words and scoffed at his prophets until the wrath of the Lord was aroused against his people and there was no remedy.  II Chronicles 36:15-16

….and there was no remedy…the words came screaming off the page at me when I read them recently.

No remedy for a terminal illness.  As a nurse, I have cared for a child in continuous convulsions, dying of lead poisoning.

No remedy for destroyed relationships.  I have seen gossip shred what had seemingly been multiple loving friendships.

No remedy for broken china.  There are items that I just haven’t been able to super-glue back together.

What does it mean when God Himself says there is no remedy?

It isn’t for lack of trying on His part.  He has repeatedly sent messengers, who weren’t just passively ignored.  They were aggressively mocked.  God is loving and infinitely patient.  He stands ready to forgive.  He is also righteous and just.  The time can come when His holiness demands that He is angry at persistent defiant evil.   And then….there is no remedy.  The tipping point has been reached and judgment falls like a cauldron of scalding oil.

However, historically God always spares a remnant.  No matter how pervasive the evil in a society, a few who bow the knee only to the one true God remain.  When judgment comes some of the righteous may be caught up in it along with the unrighteous….the rain falls on the just and the unjust.  But God always has a plan.  During the era these verses in II Chronicles reference, Daniel was carried off to Babylon, made a eunuch, and forced to serve the foreign monarch.  But, what man intended for evil, God meant for good.  One of the things I find fascinating is that even what is obviously the result of sin on the part of human beings can be redeemed by God and fashioned into a key piece of His master plan.  There may be no remedy, but there is always redemption available to anyone who wants it.

It may be too late for a remedy, but it is never too late for redemption.

Random Thoughts on My Trip to California

Some of the women on southern California beaches incorrectly think they are still “California Girls” and squeeze their no longer lithe bodies into scraps of fabric much too tiny.

The Computer History Museum in Mountain View is so information dense that a couple of hours there are mentally exhausting.  Those in charge of the exhibits should consider that interactivity isn’t just for kids.

The guy next to me on one leg of the trip kept his tray table down the entire flight with his hands under it although he had his eyes closed and was possibly faking sleep.  His hands kept twitching under the tray in the vicinity of his crotch, and I am not certain what he was doing under there.  Can someone join the Mile High Club all by himself?

The consignment store in Mountain View is filled with the cast-offs of the well-off….some really excellent items.

My hair dries noticeably faster in Yorba Linda than it does in upstate New York…..major difference in the humidity.

The salesman where I shopped with my son and daughter-in-law for a sofa was the ideal salesman.  He was not pushy; he was informative; and he had a sense of humor.  This was helpful since my son and daughter-in-law must have tried out 70 sofas before reaching a decision.  It was not yet noon when he informed us that the store closed at 10 PM.

It is possible for two skinny men to lay in the shade of a palm tree trunk….amusing, but possible.

My son does not live on a block…he lives on the edge of a maze.  I discovered this while trying to walk around the block.

When I am severely tired and jet-lagged, my brain does strange things.  When we finally collapsed into bed after a very long day, I began to drift off to sleep but was awakened by the notion that I could not feel my right hand.  My left hand was lying on top of it, but I couldn’t feel it.  As my foggy brain tried to sort out the possibilities, I eventually figured out that my sleeping husband’s hand was positioned across my abdomen, and it was his right hand, not mine, that my left hand was touching.  I was relieved that I hadn’t lost feeling in my right hand, but a bit concerned about the function of my brain.

Sex and Babies

What on earth has happened to our society?  I am absolutely sickened by the notion that single motherhood is an option, or that a couple can hook up, create a baby without having built a relationship with each other, and think that they are going to be a family even though they fight constantly.

There is a whole subset of our society that gives no thought to what it means to bring a baby into a secure and stable environment.  Becoming pregnant is some sort of status symbol among young women...."oh, isn't this cool....see my belly getting bigger!  I can get milk, eggs and fresh fruit with my WIC check.  Social Services will increase the rent allotment for our apartment, because we are living together as a family unit.  Yeah....I've got lots of things for the baby...I got them from friends and picked them up at the thrift store.....oh, and my grandmother will give me money for what the baby needs."

Yeah...I am the grandmother....whoops, the great-grandmother....and my heart breaks.  I am furious with the total fools in the media who have glamorized this sorry condition.  I struggle with the role that social services plays.  It is a good thing there is a safety net or a bad thing because people learn to rely on it?  

How is it that there is no longer a connection between actions and consequences?  Doesn't anybody get it anymore?

Here is truth.  If you are going to bring a child into the world you should:

1.  Become the best you can be as a single person.  Forget about the opposite gender and engaging in sex.  Develop your mind and your social skills.  Get an education, travel, establish yourself in a career.  Bring something good and positive to your role as a wife and mother.
2.  Look for a partner who shares your values and with whom there is mutual respect.  Become friends.  Delay sexual gratification.
3.  Enter into a real marriage...not some silly sham that involves spending lots of money on a ceremony, reception and honeymoon, just because it makes you 'queen for a day.'  Promise to love this person 'til death do you part and mean it.
4.  Prayerfully with your partner, consider whether you are ready to accept the responsibility of being a parent.  Your will never be 100% ready, but it should not be entered into on a whim or because you think it will cement a crumbling relationship.  This is a real human being you are thinking about creating, and parenting is not an 18 year job.  It is a life-time commitment.

The grandmother or great-grandmother wants to give you baby gifts.  She wants to hold your baby and ohhh and ahhhh, but she does not want to raise the child.  She does not want to have her heart broken as you scream at the child or at your spouse.  She does not want to have to watch the child raised in poverty.

Please, don't settle for less than what God intends.  He didn't set down guidelines to torture us and make us miserable...it is possible to survive virginity until marriage.  God knows what we and our children need in order to be fulfilled....and it is NOT easy casual meaningless sex.

Will He Find One?

For the eyes of the Lord range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him. II Chronicles 16:9

The watchful eyes that never sleep,

Search throughout the earth.

They miss no movement,

Not even the fall of a sparrow.

Dark and light are alike to Him.

Shadows cannot hide us.

There is no corner,

That cannot be pierced by His gaze.

Adam and Eve hid in the garden,

Knowing their sin.

He called to them, knowing where they were

Knowing what they had done.

Yet, He searches not to judge,

But to bless and strengthen.

He looks for the fully committed heart.

Will He find one?

Solomon's Discerning Question

But will God really dwell on earth with men?  The heavens, even the highest heavens, cannot contain you.  How much less this temple I have built!  II Chronicles 6:18


Solomon, renowned for both his knowledge and wisdom, asks a very discerning question.  Will God really dwell on earth with men?


I understand that many people do not believe in God.  But....if there is an all powerful being who created all matter and is the source of all energy, would He choose to even communicate with insignificant man?  Would He choose to "dwell" with us?


Solomon's father David grappled with the same question in Psalm 8: 3-4  When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?


After Solomon completes his prayer in II Chronicles 6, the first verse in chapter 7 says:  ...fire came down from heaven and consumed the burnt offering and sacrifices, and the glory of the Lord filled the temple.  The answer was YES!


Centuries later Christ was born.  Isaiah's prophecy (Is. 7:14) is quoted in Matthew 1:23.  And they will call him Immanuel..which means, "God with us."  God again chose to dwell with man.  This time in the person of Jesus Christ.  The answer to Solomon's question was YES!


When Christ returned to heaven, He left behind the Holy Spirit, as an indwelling presence for the church and the individual believer.  In John chapter 16, Christ explains that when He leaves the earth, His followers will not be abandoned.  He will send the Spirit to comfort, counsel and guide into truth.  He again makes provision for God to dwell among men.  The answer to the question is again YES!


Now as to 'why' God would choose to dwell with man...that is a mystery.  The only explanation I know is that He chose to love us. He decided to create us 'in his image' and decided to allow us to have a relationship with Him.  It is in His very nature to do so, whether or not we deserve it....and by the way, we don't.


I am grateful that He is there, and that He cares.  He didn't have to do that!  It's not like the creator and sustaining force of the universe needs us.


What is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?