The Worry Stone

Yesterday my seven year old granddaughter showed me a polished white stone which was about the size of a nickel.  I remarked that it was a pretty stone  She said that her teacher had given it to her, and that it was a "worry stone."
I inquired as to what that meant.
"My teacher says when you are worrying about something, you just rub the stone and your worries will go into the stone."
I asked her if she believed this.  She said that she did.
What?  What?!  I was horrified and incredulous.


This troubles me both from a religious and a scientific perspective.  Now, I well know that there are many with strong religious beliefs who think science is of no value, and that there are many who believe in science who think religion is rubbish.  Those in either of these camps may not want to acknowledge that there are quite a number of us out here who believe in both science and religion.  This includes some extremely intelligent and logical folks.


As a person who delights in the orderliness of the world and the logic of science, I am disgusted that a teacher would foist a "worry stone" on a child.  If weird Uncle Clyde gave a child such a stone and described its function with a smirk on his face, I would not have much of a reaction.  Even a child would know enough to question his credibility.  But, our children believe what a teacher tells them.  They are learning correct bits of information from a teacher:  two plus three equals five, a sentence is a complete thought beginning with a capital letter and ending with a punctuation mark, Albany is the capital of New York but not its largest city.  They ought to also be learning how to think logically....not magically.  A "worry stone" in grade school is a horrific basis for the study of earth science, biology, chemistry and physics in high school.


As a person of faith, I want children to understand that there actually is a way to get rid of worries, and it does not involve rubbing a stone.  The troubles of life can be discussed with a God who loves us and sees beyond today.  I want my grandchildren to sing:
I cast all my cares upon you.
I lay all of my burdens down at your feet,
And anytime I don't know, what to do.
I will cast all my cares upon you.
This is not magical thinking.  This is participating in a loving, supportive relationship with someone who is all-knowing and all-powerful.  


I see no conflict between faith and science, but a "worry stone" is not compatible with either.

Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

I am not sure how it happened, but I got through high school and college without ever reading “Brave New World” by Aldous Huxley.  I did read a number of other works that dealt with utopian concepts.  Being on vacation and having extra time, I decided to read it this week.  I was forewarned that it was depressing, but I managed to read it in less than a 24 hour period with no signs of needing “soma.”

“Brave New World” was written in 1932.  The copy I read had a foreword written by Huxley 15 years later.  We are now 80 years later and the degree to which we have progressed toward this world is frightening.  A few observations follow.

“Sleep learning” or hypnopedia is not inflicted on children today, but practiced by them willingly.  Many children, teens and young adults fall asleep in front of televisions or next to sound systems which provide a night full of background music and/or dialogue.  If this “music” was soothing and beautiful, I would not be so concerned.   What I have observed in young people is that they listen at night to the same type of music they listen to by day.  The beat throbs and pounds.  The lyrics are filled with profanity.  The concepts described are vile.  They walk around with earplugs in listening all day, and then leave the CD player or radio on all night.  Please don’t try to tell me this doesn’t impact their philosophy of life and their behavior.

We are perilously close to the time when “Feelies” will be available in the form of virtual reality.  We can already insert ourselves into video games.  What happens when the line between the real and the virtual disappears?  Even now, we have plenty of mentally ill people in our society.  If reality is lost, we will have many more.

In this book, young children are encouraged in erotic play.  We haven’t quite gotten to this yet, but younger and younger children are being exposed to sexuality.  Television programs that a few years ago would have been relegated to “after the kiddies are in bed,” now are shown in endless reruns during late afternoon.

Procreation has been totally separated from sexuality in the Brave New World.  Sexuality is strictly for pleasure.  Having an exclusive partner is frowned upon.  Procreation happens in bottles.  Women carefully practice birth control.  If they have an urge to bear a child, they can take a series of chemicals to fulfill this need without the inconvenience of a pregnancy.  I am not saying that birth control is a bad thing, but we are moving in the direction of sex strictly for pleasure whenever and with whomever, and that is a bad thing.  I am watching it ruin young lives.

Religion and family life have disappeared in the Brave New World.  They are viewed as vile and disgusting.  A mother breastfeeding her baby is repulsive.  All of the tender emotions of family relationship are shunned.  Religious books are locked away, considered dangerous for the masses.  We do have in our society today an increasingly vocal and influential element that mocks what was once considered sacred.

The main goals of the Brave New World are happiness and stability.  Stability is achieved through social engineering.  All aspects of life are controlled.  Happiness is achieved through medication…in the book it is called “soma.”  According to the CDC, anti-depressants are the most commonly prescribed medication in the United States today.  None of them go by the name soma, but they are plentiful and used freely.  (There is actually a medication with this name, but it is a muscle relaxant.)

I have not even begun to discuss the characters in “Brave New World,” and the way in which the life of each one is tragic.  Suffice it to say that this is not a world I want to live in, and I do not know if we ever will reach this point, but we have moved a great deal closer to it in 2012 than we were in 1932 when the book was penned.

Sanctity of Life, Sanctity of Death

I was mesmerized, the first time I saw them, by a strange sameness in the moments of birth and death.  A baby emerged from the birth canal looking like a lump of limp, blue-tinged plastic, but then, he breathed, shrieked, turned pink, and put all four limbs into motion.  An elderly woman made a final gasp.  The color drained from her already pale face, and as she became tinged with blue, earthly life ended.  I was in my late teens and awestruck the first time I saw each of these moments in the continuum of life.

Within the past year, I have been present at the moment of death for two close relatives.  Both were elderly.  Both expressed a desire to leave and go to be with Jesus.  One slipped away quietly, his breaths becoming increasingly shallow and further apart.  The other breathed heavily until the last gasp, as though she was climbing a steep hill and striving with all her might to reach the top.

Families struggle with difficult decisions leading up to these moments.  Last summer I walked into my uncle’s hospital room and was immediately handed a consent form.  As his health proxy, they wanted me to give consent for a transfusion he was refusing.  He had been battling cancer for seven years.  His doctors had told him he could tolerate no more chemo and had removed the port.  He saw no reason to postpone the inevitable, and that being his wish, I did not sign the consent either.

My mother-in-law stopped eating two or three days before she died.  We stopped trying to feed her.  She could no longer swallow and choked even on soft foods.  She had previously given instructions that she never wanted a feeding tube.  This was especially difficult on one of the family members.  He felt that withholding food was too close to euthanasia.  Most of us felt that what we were doing was bowing to her wishes and not doing anything to increase or prolong her discomfort.

How do you sort out end of life issues?

How do you sort out beginning of life issues?

I was in my 40s when I became pregnant the last time.  The doctors repeatedly asked me if I was sure I wanted to continue the pregnancy.  I refused amniocentesis three times.  I was required to go to genetic counseling for my doctor’s “legal protection.”  Certainly, I could have had a child with birth defects, but by God’s grace, I had a healthy baby boy.  I do not view this as God’s reward for making the “right decision,” and I would not presume to make the decision for another person.

I am not prepared to say that someone who is pregnant as a result of rape must accept this as God’s will and continue the pregnancy.  I think if I had been raped during my child-bearing years at a time when conception was likely, I would have taken the “morning after pill” with a totally clear conscience.  However, if that had not been available, I would have had a much harder time with having an abortion after the pregnancy was established.

I view abortion as a horrific means of birth control, and at a minimum, disrespectful of life, but I stop short of viewing it as murder.  Why do I have trouble with abortion being murder?

1.       It is unclear to me exactly when life begins, and I don’t think any human being is wise enough to figure this out, although many claim to do so.

a.       Genesis 2:7  The Lord God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.  Was this a one time thing for the first man or does life begin for all of us with the first breath?  Or perhaps at the point in development when the fetus is capable of sustaining respiration?  I don’t know the answer to that.

b.      Psalm 139:13  You created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb..my frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place..  This is often used as an argument for life beginning right from the outset of the developmental process.  But, could this also be interpreted as God foreknowing those who will be born?  I don’t know the answer to that.

c.       Exodus 21:22   If men who are fighting hit a pregnant woman and she gives birth prematurely (or she has a miscarriage) but there is no serious injury, the offender must be fined whatever the woman’s husband demands and the court allows.  But if there is serious injury, you are to take life for life, eye for eye…etc.  So if this means that a murder has only occurred if the woman dies, then it would seem that the baby is not yet viewed as fully a human being.  But, is that what it means or does it mean serious injury to either mother or child?  This passage can be twisted to fit ones already determined viewpoint, and I don’t know which of the interpretations is correct.

2.   If abortion is ever murder then it is always murder is troubling to me.

a.         If it is really murder, then killing abortionists is totally logical.    However, I have real difficulty with this being what God would have me to do regarding abortionists.  But, if I believe abortion is murder, isn’t it the logical conclusion?  So maybe something is wrong with the premise that it is always murder.

b.      In the Old Testament causing a death was not always murder.  A person who had killed another could flee to a City of Refuge where he would be protected until his case was heard.  So, maybe there is room for being something less than rigid in this notion.

3.     I struggle with the fact that the same people who believe that abortion is murder are often conservatives who believe in the death penalty.  Something about this just doesn’t make any sense to me.  And, if one is to be consistent, shouldn’t those who believe abortion is murder, also be pacifists?  I have trouble formulating a consistent and coherent world view with “abortion is murder” as one of the tenets.

4.      If God had clearly stated in the Bible that abortion is murder and had defined exactly when life begins, I would with no hesitation follow His directive.  But, He did not do that.

On the other hand, it is clearly stated:

You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, ‘Do not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.’  But I tell you that anyone who is angry with his brother will be subject to judgment.  Matthew 5:21

Anyone who hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life in him.  I John 3:15

So….I know that I am to love my brother, but I cannot resolve these issues that deal with the intersection between life and death.  As a believer and someone who holds life to be sacred, I can only adhere to God’s specific directives and earnestly pray for guidance in the areas where He has not spoken clearly.

I believe that the end of life and the beginning of life give us a split second peek into the window of eternity.  The glimpse, although gone in a flash, pierces the depths of our souls and increases our desire to someday see the face of God and “know as we are known.” 

It is an immense privilege to be present when someone is born or when someone dies.  Both moments are sacred.

Celebrity

I was in O'Hare airport one day this week waiting for my next flight.  The airport had been closed earlier, so everything was backed up.  The seating in the gate area was totally filled, so I stood in the main corridor where I could see and hear in the event of a gate change or other announcement.  No point in being bored, so I entertained myself with "people watching."


My attention was drawn by two men coming in my direction.  Most people getting off a flight dash past looking here and there at the arrows that point to baggage claim or the nearest restroom.  These two men had a different demeanor.  They strode along purposefully, but not hurriedly.  They seemed like the kind of men who are used to being noticed.  They were dressed similarly in well-tailored black wool topcoats and black dress hats, such as my Dad wore in the 1950s.  One man had an attractive multi-colored scarf draped around his neck.  When they were within 10 feet of me, I realized the man on the left was Jesse Jackson.


A middle-aged black lady on the opposite side of the corridor came to the same realization and ran right up to him to shake his hand.  He did so graciously.  She returned to her place and immediately got on her cell phone,  "oh, my god, oh, my god....I can't believe it!"  she exclaimed into the phone..


I stood there pondering how much this chance encounter must have meant to her.  Then I tried to decide whom I could possibly meet that would cause me to be so excited.  I ran a bunch of names through my mind....politicians, musicians, actors and actresses.  Hmmmm....who on earth would "make my day."  I came up blank  I reran my list of handsome male actors through my brain....nope.  I guess celebrity just doesn't impress me.


I would love to meet someone with "gazillions" who was philanthropic.  I would try to convince him or her to throw some money towards the endeavor that our family has to help bare subsistence farmers in Third World countries grow sufficient crops to feed their families.  But, those kind of people aren't found walking through O'Hare.  They are on private jets and inaccessible to the masses.


Eventually I concluded that the only accidental meeting that would thrill me would be if I met some "long-lost" friend.  During my years in nursing school and college, I had friends with whom I have lost touch.  


If one of them walked by me in O'Hare...
If we managed to recognize each other after 40-plus years...
If we had time to at least exchange email addresses....
I would be genuinely excited.


Celebrity....not so much.

Public Characters

My definition of a Public Character is someone who stands out from the mass of humanity, a person who is highly visible, and recognized by many who don't actually know the person.  My definition does not include people who are supposed to be easily recognized, such as politicians, media personages and community leaders.  I think you need to be eccentric in order to be a true "public character."


Public Characters in my community:


*Some years ago there were twin ladies, elderly at the time and certainly deceased by now.  They had dressed alike every day of their lives.  Although they had married, they lived near each other and had continued to coordinate their attire.  At the time I noticed them, they were widowed and still strolling around town in identical wool plaid suits with matching hats.


*Two women, who rumor had it were former prostitutes, continued to wander the streets in old age.  One always dressed in a negligee...long before pajamas in public were the norm.  The other wore a trench coat, had a terribly pock-marked face, and a head of hair like a rat's nest.


*A man who was young when I first noticed him thirty years ago.  He had thick glasses and awkward movements, often wore pink slacks, and carried a purse.  Recently I saw him, looking much the same and riding a pink bike.


*A very thin elderly woman who lives a few blocks from downtown.  For many years she could be seen walking between her home and various supermarkets all day.  I talked with someone who believed that she spent her days doing this, because she lived alone and was terrified of dying alone or becoming ill and not being found.


*Currently, I often see a middle-aged black man who always dresses totally in white.  I know nothing of his story.


*I haven't seen her recently, but a lady often traveled our streets pushing a grocery cart with a dog in it.  The dog was usually wrapped up in a blanket.  I have seen her sitting on a bench cradling the dog as though it were a baby.  I wondered if she had lost a child.


*He was probably only a public character to me, but when I taught at the local community college, everyday on my way to work, I would drive past a man I figured to be a blue collar worker on his way to a local factory.  I noticed him, because he strode along with a purposeful gait, carrying his brown bag lunch hugged to his chest and in the crook of his arm.  I imagined him to be a former football player.  I thought that he, in Walter Mitty fashion, was fantasizing striding down the field for a touchdown with his lunch substituting for the football.


*My daughter is in the process of becoming a public character.  She has reinvented herself multiple times and is currently a "hippie."  She wears long skirts and bright colors, often walks barefoot in inclement weather, and has attempted to develop dreadlocks in her stick straight brown hair.  Envision here the previously mentioned "rat's nest," except that she has incorporated string, beads, locks of other people's hair and I'm-not-sure-what-else. I did not see this, but it has been reported to me, that she inserted herself into the town's holiday parade last November, walking barefoot in the cold and carrying a sign.


Am I a public character?  I was startled one day as I left a local store and headed for my car.  A woman, who I did not ever remember meeting, passed me in the parking lot and blurted out, "Oh...I know you!  You're the lady who ice-skates so beautifully!"  
This was surprising in multiple ways....I am not a great ice-skater.  All I do is go around in circles at the ice arena....nothing fancy.  I do not consider myself to stand out on a rink full of people.  Before even thinking, I said, "How do you know that?" 
"I've seen you at the arena, and I wish I could skate as well as you."  
This interchange surprised me so that I never came up with any response except a smile.  I thought afterwards that I could have said that I hadn't learned to skate until I was an adult, and that I was sure if she kept at it, she would skate well someday too. That is what I say if someone comments to me while I am actually skating. But, my brain had been shocked into a temporary shutdown by the notion that I was recognizable in public.  I expected a certain loss of anonymity after participating in an ad for television, but certainly not for just going to the ice rink for some exercise.  I later chided myself for not coming up with a gracious reply.


Public characters add color to our world.  We think we  "know" them, but we can only guess at the reasons behind the distinguishing characteristics that draw our attention.

The Bible as a Prop

Last night I was entering a McDonald's in the southern tier of New York State with my husband, daughter and grandson.  My grandson ran ahead to make maximum use of the Playland.  As my husband and I strolled in, we were greeted just outside the door by a man about our age holding a Bible.  I figured we were going to be approached about the status of our souls, but after he gave as an engaging smile and warm 'hello,' he added, "Could you buy a burger and drink for a hungry man?"


Ah...so that's the game. He had just lit up a cigarette, which he quickly snuffed, but he had that Bible held obviously in the other hand, and probably figured that lent him some worth which might get him noticed by someone with a Christian heart.  Hmmmmmmmmmm.


I motioned him to come in with us.  He stood in line next to me while others of my family used the rest room.  When my daughter came over to give me her order, she whispered, "Make a new friend, did ya?"


I asked the man a few questions...."Where are you from?"
"Washington, DC"
"What brings you here?"
"I'm visiting family in Pennsylvania and staying in a hotel nearby."
I wanted to ask, "Why do you smoke?  If you didn't have to buy cigarettes, you might have money for a burger and drink."  
But, I didn't.
We got our order and the man thanked me and went off to eat.  We ate in the Playland area keeping an eye on the grandson.


I did not explain to the man that he didn't need the Bible as a prop.  I have a policy never to give anyone money, since I don't know how they will spend it, but to always give food to anyone who asks.  I have done this in Waikiki Beach in Hawaii, Sarasota in Florida, in front of the local Walmart and probably some other places I don't remember.


But this, is the first time I have ever seen the Bible used as a prop.

I'm Not Impressed

"I'm not impressed."  Those were the first words I ever spoke about my husband.


My family had just moved to a new town.  I had been hearing ever since my parents had gone house-hunting in the new location, about a young man that they met when they visited a church in the area.  My mother came home excited to have me meet this nice guy.  I told her that I was not interested in having a boyfriend who would be 800 miles away when I returned to college.


I was home on summer vacation between college years, so I moved with my parents trying to be helpful with the packing, my younger brothers, and cleaning the new home.  Our first weekend in the new town, we all went to church.  The nice young man wasn't there, as he was away participating in a friend's wedding.  But, as would be admitted to me many months later, he hurried back and arrived just as church was concluding.  He knew I might be there, and the Pastor's wife had seen my picture and was teasing him about the new girl in town.  He, of course, did not give her the satisfaction of acting interested in me, but he did hurry back.


And so, it happened that my mother poked me and said, "Do you see that guy talking to your brother?  That's Bill."


"Hmmppff,"  I replied, "I'm not impressed."


He looked like a skinny high school kid.  He was actually 23, a year out of college, managing his family's business, and already a Rotarian.  But, he looked verrrrrry young, and being a distance runner, he was verrrrrrry thin.  I was 21, a registered nurse and working to put myself through college.  


We talked briefly that day...nothing special...no sparks.  Later in the week, a couple from the church had rented a cottage and invited all of the teens and singles in the church to come for a swim and a picnic.  I rode to the cottage with Bill's sister and her boyfriend.  Bill arrived later after finishing work.  Somehow during the evening, we began talking.  The conversation lasted the entire evening.  He asked if he could give me a ride home.  He had a '57 convertible.  The evening was warm, and the top was down.  During the ride, we discovered that we both liked songs from musicals and began singing loudly as the wind rushed past.


The conversation lasted another hour as we sat in his car in my parents' driveway.  I am absolutely positive my mother must have peeked out through the curtains, but nonetheless, when I came in the house, she asked, "So, who brought you home?"


I replied, "Bill...and...I'm impressed."


That was in August of 1966.  We were married when I finished college in June of 1968.


I'm still impressed.