Friday, December 5, 2008
my conversion to blogger.com
I am a blogger convert. All of these post were actually written by me at various times through out the last six months. I used to blog on myspace, but found that to be quite disappointing as there was rarely ever any feed back. Either what I am saying is of no matter to others, which would be an unfortuante reality, or somewhere out there in cyberspace I have an audience. Let me know . . .
great book i read this week
The best book I've read in a very long time on Christianity. It was a breath of fresh air to anyone who struggles with living within a dieing legalistic and out of touch "church" and longs for the reality of Christ to be brought into every day life. I hope I meet the author one day he goes to my church . . .
C.S. Lewis Poem
All this flashy rhetoric about loving you
I never had a selfless thought since i was born
I am a mercenary and all self-seeking through and through
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn
peace, reassurance, pleasure, are the goals i seek
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin
I talk of love a scholar parrot may talk Greek
But self-imprisoned always end where i begin
I never had a selfless thought since i was born
I am a mercenary and all self-seeking through and through
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn
peace, reassurance, pleasure, are the goals i seek
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin
I talk of love a scholar parrot may talk Greek
But self-imprisoned always end where i begin
Genocide Makes Me Sick
Genocide makes me sick.Tonight I was watching "Scream Bloody Murder" on CNN. I'm sure it will air again on Sunday. Wow. It's really hard to embrace the reality of how evil and sick humans really can be. I've been watching the history of genocide for an hour now. Starting with when the word "genocide" was even created by a polish man during Hitler's reign.You have the Holocaust. You have Cambodia, the killing fields. You have Rwanda, and then the genocide in Iraq and the show hasn't even gotten to Darfur yet. Makes me absolutely ashamed of this country that claims to want freedom and peace. Yes, freedom and peace for ourselves- however, unless its in our own interest (aka- foreign oil) the hell with the rest of the world. Mark my words, this country has sacrificed human lives on the alter of politics, convenience and power over and over again.Did you know that the government was fully aware of the atrocities taking place in Cambodia, and what did we do when 2 MILLION people were dieing and being tortured? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was Vietnam that eventually went over and ended it. Do you know what America did about about the the genocide of the Kurds in Iraq? NOTHING. Not only did our government do nothing we PROVIDED Saddam with weapons. We provided Iran with weapons at the same time. We couldn't have Iran win though, because they hated us and if they won we wouldn't have oil.It's all about the oil. And when things got ugly between Iran and Iraq we appeased Iraq and did nothing. Even though our government was well aware of the atrocities taking place over there. They knew that Saddam and Chemical Ali were attacking innocent people with chemical weapons. Men, women, children, babies- dead. And you know why the US didn't do anything? Because we WANTED OIL! That's why. God forbid we piss Iraq off and lose our supply of oil.It wasn't until Iraq went and invaded Kuwait (oil) that we finally went in and did something about it. Reagan calling Saddam "Hitler" only after they attacked Kuwait. Not while he was killing thousands of of his own people.Wow- did you really think we went to Iraq this time because of terrorism? No, I think we just had unfinished business. We needed to gain power over there and that's why we went in. Our government only used 9/11 as an excuse. We don't care about others, don't fool yourselves.Please if we cared about terrorism and genocide we would have invaded in Rwanda, we would have stopped the killings in Cambodia. the reason we didn't is because THOSE PEOPLE DON'T MATTER TO THE THE INTEREST OF THE US GOVERNMENT! When it comes to "Human Rights" America has no place to talk.At least not the government and not the millions of uncaring and ignorant Americans who could really care less about other humans that don't directly benefit them somehow.Let's talk about Obama for a minute. Do you think he brings change???What about murder in our very own country? 6 Million people died in the Holocaust. How about these numbers 46 MILLION BABIES HAVE BEEN ABORTED SINCE 1973!!!!!!!!!!! Yes that's how many babies have died in our own country. And everyone who voted for Obama just voted for a man that is about to make it much easier for women to make the "choice" to murder. Look on my page to see the Act he is about to pass.You can go ahead and try and silence me and tell me I am over reacting. But think about these things. Either your conscience is stripped or you are choosing to ignore the facts. America isn't really that great of a country if we can't even stand up for others that are suffering, not overseas and not even in our country.But it doesn't surprise me. If our government won't even save the lives of those they can see they certainly won't care about the unborn whom they cannot see.But you know what? God sees.I am angry,sad, and sickened at the reality of evil and lets not forget that infamous quote.All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.Think about it. How can help prevent evil? How can we raise awareness to others about what is going in the world. Do we educate ourselves so as not to be ignorant of the suffering and death all around us. If not maybe we are part of it . . .
What Christmas Is Really About
Last night I was reading my kids a bed time story, and I chose to read them the story of Christ's birth. I was once again reminded of the amazing story. How miraculous it was, how amazing that Divine Love chose to reveal its self first to the poorest of poor, and to the forgotten. I was thinking about how God chose to be born in a place as terrible as any ghetto or abandoned city like Camden, New Jersey. You'd think a King would have chose somewhere more fitting like Rome or Paris. I thought about how God humbled himself in human flesh, making the journey from the womb and through the birth canal, finally to lay naked and crying, covered in the blood and bodily fluids of Mary, struggling to find her breast and drink from her His own sustenance. I remembered how if it were not for God's profound love for humanity, this event would have never occurred. But on that night,at that time in history, more then just a bedtime story or myth took place, an actual event happened that would forever change the way the world thought of God. With that brilliant star gleaming above a filthy manger, with the stench of animals all about, and very few knowing the miracle of what had just happened, in Nazareth my King arrived.It's hard to keep this in perspective when I am bombarded with all this materialism and pressure from society that Christmas is truly about riches and spending money none of us have. We all think about it every year, we charge our credit cards to make everyone happy and cross our fingers that we don't over draft and that we gave good enough presents.You know I love my friends dearly. If I were rich, trust me I'd probably give away a lot more then I kept. Its unfortunate to think that some of my friends or loved ones may measure my love for them in the gifts I am able to give. The truth is there really isn't any material gift I could give to show how much I love those closest to me. But now I have children and I feel this immense pressure to have a billion Christmas presents under the tree.Problem is I just spent my entire day pulling my hair out, talking to bankers, muttering profanities under my breath and crying over the bills. In the end I discovered that this Christmas won't be like the last, we just cannot afford it and the stack of bills in front of me attest to that. Hmm . . .Great way to start the Christmas Season.Somehow I have to remember that despite Black Friday where others trample people to death so they can get their door-buster prize, Christmas is more then materialism, more then the plastic toy that will soon lay neglected, dusty in the corner, as your child still plays with the box it came with. Christmas is more then a holiday in which children are taught to expect everything, and at the same time taught to give nothing. It's more then a time where parents are sweating over finances and so many around my own neighborhood don't even know how they will afford a "nice" Christmas. No,that's not Christmas. At least not that one that brings tears to my eyes as I listen to Silent Night. I'm not crying over presents and sales at Macy's. I feel emotional because of the birth of Christ, because I can share love with my family and give to others as Christ gave so much to us. St. Nick left the poor small gifts in their shoes. I doubt today that he would be very proud of being the "King" of Christmas. While the true "King" is ignored, as well as His ways.I doubt St. Nick would be happy about saying "Happy Holidays" so as not to offend others with the name of Christ. I doubt he'd be very thrilled about Black Friday and charging credit cards, where Christmas is more about boosting the economy once a year then loving others and living with content in our lives by living within our means. I doubt God is very happy about it either. Christmas is what you make it I suppose. It doesn't mean the same thing to everyone. But I just wish for every ones sake we wouldn't buy in to all the materialism that comes with the season.Christmas has always been about the poor, starting with our Savior. He chose to come wrapped in the humility of humanity. He could have been born anywhere, He could have appeared to anyone. But God chose to come in the lowest form. It is our remembrance of Him that makes Christmas worth having. Honestly if it were all about getting huge gifts that I cannot afford, and stuffing myself with cookies it may not matter to me after awhile. Well. the cookies might matter . . . But really it would all certainly lose its meaning if it were all about the presents.Christmas is an opportunity not only to remind myself of the meaning of my life, the coming of my savior Jesus Christ, but also to remind my children to love each other, our neighbors and others in this world.All I know is that I don't want to give into that pressure this year. I shouldn't have to feel that Christmas in cancelled because I don't have a lot of money. Because if I really believe that to be the truth I have defined Christmas to be something other then what I would like to celebrate it as. I think Linus said it best on Charlie Browns Christmas, which I still remember watching when I was four years old dressed in my pajamas. Linus told everyone what Christmas was really about through a single, simple Bible verse."Now there were in the same country shepherds living out in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. And behold, an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were greatly afraid. Then the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger." And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying: " Glory to God in the highest, And on earth peace, goodwill toward men!"
Dazed and Confused (people that would rather be high then share their lives sober)
Most people would assume I smoke pot. Everything about my lifestyle fits. I love herbs, flowers, art, music and organic food- what many would call a typical "hippie".Oh yeah, except I shave my armpits and legs and wear deodorant. Except it's like the special sort that doesn't have harmful crap in it. My first experience with marijuana was in high school. I was sitting around in a friend's barn on a beautiful summer day and they were passing a joint around. I inhaled only a little with no reaction. There were a few other times I took a "hit" if you could seriously call it that, I really had no idea what I was doing . . .
All in all though, I've never been high. There have been times I really wanted to start using pot and felt the lure of that lifestyle but I never was able to let myself go that way. The fact that I have a mother who has been a drug addict my entire life may be a very good reason that I have abstained from drugs. I mean, really- I lost my mother because of her addictions and I'll never have that time back again. I'm not a little girl any longer and I grew up, with my stoned and addicted mother out of the picture of my life, never to fully return.
This past summer I had the uncanny experience of being exposed to pot at least ten times. Now, being a mother of three - and what some would call your typical stay at home mom (though never labeled a soccer mom), being around others that are using pot is not a common every day event. However while hanging out in Portland,Oregon its a very common place event.So between hanging out with snowboarders, attending the Oregon Country Fair and meeting up with some musicians- I found myself constantly surrounded by a cloud of Cannabis all summer long. I was always offered it as well, and being that I have had a tough year emotionally, I was surprised at myself for not partaking of this wonderful plant.
Part of me really wished I could just let go and give it a try. But there is some deep scar placed in my soul that says that getting high does more then bring pleasure it also destroys people. I can hear it now, any of you that are reading this that love to smoke up . . . Fine. I know you all have a million excuses why smoking pot is so great. I have no doubt that it brings pleasure and temporary peace. Perhaps if it's smoked once in awhile that may even be ok (if it weren't illegal). There has been a lot of debate about whether or not pot is harmful for the brain. Many studies have seemed to prove that smoking up can lead to taking more serious drugs, loss of concentration, there can be serious psychological affects, addiction, and loss of motivation and so on . . . But whether or not it's harmful physically, how about socially? I mean everyone must think they are having the greatest time while they're stoned and with their friends. But how much of the conversation (if any of it, even makes sense) even matters? What does that say about your relationship with the friends you have and the people you love? "I can only have a good time with you when I'm stoned"?
For me everything came to a head the other night. I had planned to meet a friend who's name I won't mention, downtown Portland. He is a very talented and bright musician, whose music I absolutely love to listen to. His lyrics are clever and thought provoking and his melodies are uplifting. I asked if we could meet so I could hear him play a few tunes before he headed out of town. I was picturing a quiet summer night with the guitar and a beer or two, talking and just enjoying the peaceful summer evening. Instead, after meeting up with several others of his friends, the first priority of the night was to smoke up. I was thinking- great- here we go again. I have spent all summer being surrounded by stoner's it seems. Sure enough it was a very miserable evening for me. If you've never done this before I challenge you-spend a few days just sitting and observing people as they get totally wasted and stoned.
Maybe I've just been around the wrong crowd- but even with a few drinks in me I can tell you it was far from amusing. In fact- it absolutely sucked. I was stuck at some one's house I didn't even know and the one person I came to hang out with didn't even talk to me all night. It was as if I didn't even exist. I suffered through endless rambling that made no sense, while no one there took any interest in me what so ever. Now- I know I am what most would call a "people person". People like to talk to me, open up to me and hang out with me, and I with them. But just as a rule of thumb when people are stoned they could care less about you or anything else that is going on around them. Depending on how often they get stoned they may not start to care about anything period. They may just feel depressed and tired and hungry all the time . . .
After passing up yet another opportunity to get high, I listened to my "friend" talk about how most people call pot the "gateway drug" and he denied that was the truth. The ironic thing is that ten minutes later he and his friend were avidly discussing all the psychedelics they'd taken and how it affected them. You know just simple and safe drugs such as Acid and Shrooms . . . But I suppose these drugs weren't taken as a result of first trying the friendliest of all drugs, marijuana. After all, marijuana is certainly not a "gateway "drug, right? All I know is that my mother was smoking up in high school when she was 16. She and my Father actually met while my Father was selling her pot. Pretty romantic huh?
Like, my dad still remembers where they met in the parking lot in New Jersey, the exact spot. Unfortunately my mother began using other drugs as well. Acid, Crystal Meth, and Weed was just the beginning for her, the appetizer. . . She eventually became an alcoholic and addicted to cocaine.
I also had a friend I met when I was 14 that I really liked. His name was Mike. I remember having a conversation with him about smoking pot when we were just kids. He was also very adamant about telling me he would never do any other drugs besides pot. Sure enough- he did- of course. He got in a lot of trouble and wrote me a letter from a half way house years later, telling me how much he had messed up.
So you can see from experience that I am not very keen on the idea of using any sort of drug as an escape from everyday life.
So that night when I heard my stoned friend give quite the lecture about how if you get high you have to "do it right", trying to justify himself, you can imagine I was a bit frustrated. "You can't do it because you want to escape or because you're depressed, you have to do it as the ancients did, in ceremony, to the God's". So said my friend . . . Yes, that's right. Even though he admitted to me that he was feeling a bit lonely, had no job and is sort of depressed, and seemed to indicate he saw no end to the long road before him, and felt a lack of any purpose- I am quite sure he's not smoking pot on a daily basis to escape reality or feel better. But that it's only a pure, sacred ritual..."Unto the God's" of course.
Needless to say, after sitting and listening to my friend get stoned and drunk for a good three hours, and feeling utterly depressed out of my mind, I felt robbed of a pleasant summer night. Most importantly though, I felt robbed of getting to know another human being better and furthering relationship. In the end only three songs were ever played (that's one song per miserable hour), before he was too drunk and stoned to play anything else. I drove home with a renewed resolution: To always is a hippie of some sort but never, ever to be a stoner.
Anyone can give me their reasons for smoking up. But when it causes you to lose interest in the lives of others, or even life it's self, I can safely say that you may need to re-evaluate why you're smoking at all. I haven't come to a solid conclusion on if I believe pot should be legal or not . . . That's a whole other blog. But whether it's legal or not, it has been my own experience that I have lost a lot of potential relationships to drugs. It goes on my list of unfortunate realities that are in everyday life. Knowing people that would rather be high, then share their lives sober is a sad reality. Parents included.
All in all though, I've never been high. There have been times I really wanted to start using pot and felt the lure of that lifestyle but I never was able to let myself go that way. The fact that I have a mother who has been a drug addict my entire life may be a very good reason that I have abstained from drugs. I mean, really- I lost my mother because of her addictions and I'll never have that time back again. I'm not a little girl any longer and I grew up, with my stoned and addicted mother out of the picture of my life, never to fully return.
This past summer I had the uncanny experience of being exposed to pot at least ten times. Now, being a mother of three - and what some would call your typical stay at home mom (though never labeled a soccer mom), being around others that are using pot is not a common every day event. However while hanging out in Portland,Oregon its a very common place event.So between hanging out with snowboarders, attending the Oregon Country Fair and meeting up with some musicians- I found myself constantly surrounded by a cloud of Cannabis all summer long. I was always offered it as well, and being that I have had a tough year emotionally, I was surprised at myself for not partaking of this wonderful plant.
Part of me really wished I could just let go and give it a try. But there is some deep scar placed in my soul that says that getting high does more then bring pleasure it also destroys people. I can hear it now, any of you that are reading this that love to smoke up . . . Fine. I know you all have a million excuses why smoking pot is so great. I have no doubt that it brings pleasure and temporary peace. Perhaps if it's smoked once in awhile that may even be ok (if it weren't illegal). There has been a lot of debate about whether or not pot is harmful for the brain. Many studies have seemed to prove that smoking up can lead to taking more serious drugs, loss of concentration, there can be serious psychological affects, addiction, and loss of motivation and so on . . . But whether or not it's harmful physically, how about socially? I mean everyone must think they are having the greatest time while they're stoned and with their friends. But how much of the conversation (if any of it, even makes sense) even matters? What does that say about your relationship with the friends you have and the people you love? "I can only have a good time with you when I'm stoned"?
For me everything came to a head the other night. I had planned to meet a friend who's name I won't mention, downtown Portland. He is a very talented and bright musician, whose music I absolutely love to listen to. His lyrics are clever and thought provoking and his melodies are uplifting. I asked if we could meet so I could hear him play a few tunes before he headed out of town. I was picturing a quiet summer night with the guitar and a beer or two, talking and just enjoying the peaceful summer evening. Instead, after meeting up with several others of his friends, the first priority of the night was to smoke up. I was thinking- great- here we go again. I have spent all summer being surrounded by stoner's it seems. Sure enough it was a very miserable evening for me. If you've never done this before I challenge you-spend a few days just sitting and observing people as they get totally wasted and stoned.
Maybe I've just been around the wrong crowd- but even with a few drinks in me I can tell you it was far from amusing. In fact- it absolutely sucked. I was stuck at some one's house I didn't even know and the one person I came to hang out with didn't even talk to me all night. It was as if I didn't even exist. I suffered through endless rambling that made no sense, while no one there took any interest in me what so ever. Now- I know I am what most would call a "people person". People like to talk to me, open up to me and hang out with me, and I with them. But just as a rule of thumb when people are stoned they could care less about you or anything else that is going on around them. Depending on how often they get stoned they may not start to care about anything period. They may just feel depressed and tired and hungry all the time . . .
After passing up yet another opportunity to get high, I listened to my "friend" talk about how most people call pot the "gateway drug" and he denied that was the truth. The ironic thing is that ten minutes later he and his friend were avidly discussing all the psychedelics they'd taken and how it affected them. You know just simple and safe drugs such as Acid and Shrooms . . . But I suppose these drugs weren't taken as a result of first trying the friendliest of all drugs, marijuana. After all, marijuana is certainly not a "gateway "drug, right? All I know is that my mother was smoking up in high school when she was 16. She and my Father actually met while my Father was selling her pot. Pretty romantic huh?
Like, my dad still remembers where they met in the parking lot in New Jersey, the exact spot. Unfortunately my mother began using other drugs as well. Acid, Crystal Meth, and Weed was just the beginning for her, the appetizer. . . She eventually became an alcoholic and addicted to cocaine.
I also had a friend I met when I was 14 that I really liked. His name was Mike. I remember having a conversation with him about smoking pot when we were just kids. He was also very adamant about telling me he would never do any other drugs besides pot. Sure enough- he did- of course. He got in a lot of trouble and wrote me a letter from a half way house years later, telling me how much he had messed up.
So you can see from experience that I am not very keen on the idea of using any sort of drug as an escape from everyday life.
So that night when I heard my stoned friend give quite the lecture about how if you get high you have to "do it right", trying to justify himself, you can imagine I was a bit frustrated. "You can't do it because you want to escape or because you're depressed, you have to do it as the ancients did, in ceremony, to the God's". So said my friend . . . Yes, that's right. Even though he admitted to me that he was feeling a bit lonely, had no job and is sort of depressed, and seemed to indicate he saw no end to the long road before him, and felt a lack of any purpose- I am quite sure he's not smoking pot on a daily basis to escape reality or feel better. But that it's only a pure, sacred ritual..."Unto the God's" of course.
Needless to say, after sitting and listening to my friend get stoned and drunk for a good three hours, and feeling utterly depressed out of my mind, I felt robbed of a pleasant summer night. Most importantly though, I felt robbed of getting to know another human being better and furthering relationship. In the end only three songs were ever played (that's one song per miserable hour), before he was too drunk and stoned to play anything else. I drove home with a renewed resolution: To always is a hippie of some sort but never, ever to be a stoner.
Anyone can give me their reasons for smoking up. But when it causes you to lose interest in the lives of others, or even life it's self, I can safely say that you may need to re-evaluate why you're smoking at all. I haven't come to a solid conclusion on if I believe pot should be legal or not . . . That's a whole other blog. But whether it's legal or not, it has been my own experience that I have lost a lot of potential relationships to drugs. It goes on my list of unfortunate realities that are in everyday life. Knowing people that would rather be high, then share their lives sober is a sad reality. Parents included.
the true confessions of a stay at home mom
Noah, Maisie, Elijah, and I in an orchard near my house....
I stood there looking at their chubby cheeks and smiling faces, cut out from pictures and taped to the cubbies. They were two, three and five years of age. Some faces looked forlorn and sort of reminded me of the ones you'd see on the back of a milk carton. But these children weren't missing, they were just at daycare. I was standing there contemplating whether Maisie and Noah's pictures would soon be up there to. I saw a father pick up his son, the little boy reluctant to leave as he contentedly sucked on a lollipop and watched the television. I wondered if he was happier at home or there. The women who ran the day care out of her home seemed kind enough. She explained to me how attached she felt to some of the kids and how she just had to say goodbye to one that had a terrible home life.The house was clean but needed a little help. I wasn't impressed by the garage with the fluorescent lights converted into a child's playroom. The kitchen seemed small and I was trying to picture Maisie and Noah happy there without me. As she finished the tour I felt a little apprehensive about the whole thing. I left with a friendly goodbye knowing in my heart I could never leave my kids there for any amount of hours. To explain why I was even there in the first place you'd have to hear about the rest of my day . . .
Earlier that day I had been having a personal break down. I was consumed with thoughts that I had wasted the best years of my life. Being married at the young and naive age of 19 has plagued me in a way. I was quick to become dependent upon a man and have babies. Blame it on my dysfunctional family that never taught me independence, blame it on my idealistic beliefs at the time, somewhere in my adolescent mind I convinced myself that getting married at such a young age was normal. So, I have now been a stay at home mom for almost seven years.
For whatever reason that particular day, before I was ever standing at the daycare, I was ready to run out the door of my own home. If I saw one more Cheerio stuck on the couch covers, if I heard one more whine about having to pee, if I had to wipe one more butt, or get one more glass of water I was going to scream. It could have been PMS, it could have been the fact that my husband has been studying day and night for grad school, I don't know. But that day I lost it. I was walking around the house crying ,while my three year old Noah frantically colored pictures of the Hulk for me in his coloring book in order to cheer me up.
I kept thinking "forget this"! "I give up"! "Who was I fooling to to think I could actually be a stay at home mom?" I began to scheme a way of escape in my head as the kids crawled up the walls and sorted through the already messy laundry pile. Maybe I'd get a part time job at . . .I don't know . . A coffee house, a pet store, something, anything to get some time away! To feel I've accomplished something more then making dinner and fixing a broken toy. Or maybe I should just focus on school. I have no degree.I've never been to college and its amazing how awkward life is socially when you don't even have a BA or a BS or a PHD. How humiliated I sometimes feel when people ask my occupation and I say I am a stay at home mom .I think of myself as lower on the spectrum of the modern day women. I have all the ambition of a young successful women, but feel I have no outlet. All of these thoughts were racing through my head that day when my unsuspecting husband, oblivious to my thoughts, walks into the door with a smile on his face. I was so mad at the time I wanted to slap him. Of course it wasn't his fault. He had just returned from a long day at the university he attends. While he works his way up from a Masters to a PSYD, I can sometimes feel a bit left out and envious, as I stay at home and fold socks and wipe at runny noses. I was feeling the need to be powerful, successful, or gain some worth in this world. Needless to say he was the victim of my terrible day at home. I spitefully announced that I'd be getting a full time job and leaving Noah and Maisie at daycare. He raised his eyebrows at the idea, but said that he supported me if I really thought that was what I needed and if I was that depressed with being a stay at home mother. He also reminded me of my value as a mother and questioned my motives for wanting to get a job. However much his questions stirred up my own, fixated on my new idea of success, that very hour I put on my shoes and headed out the door to find job applications. All the while I was thinking of not seeing Maisie, Noah and Elijah for most my day. I missed their grubby little faces already. The feelings of doubt began to sink in. And after my tour at the daycare I decided I probably just needed to take a deep breath and re-evaluated what I thought.
As I searched for job apps I stopped by Borders to find a birthday gift for a friend of mine. As I scanned the shelves for something interesting my eyes stopped upon a journal for mothers. I opened it up to the first page and tears met my eyes as I read the following poem from a man to his mother;
You wrote no lofty poems
That critics counted art,
But with a nobler vision
You lived them in your heart.
You carved no shapeless marble
To some high soul design.
But with a finer sculpture
You shaped this soul of mine.
You built no great cathedrals
That centuries applaud;
But with a grace exquisite
Your life cathedraled God.
Thomas Fessenden
As the tears came to my eyes I resolved right then and there to be a better mother and to be a mother that had joy for what she did. Sure I was still a little sad but I was reminded of the greater things in life. The heart within each child of mine.Suddenly all the laughter of my children and all the memories I had of them running around the house came back to me. Did I really want to leave that behind? After all, I only have three years left of this, and then they'll be off to school and I'll never be able to live these days again. Their hands will never be as small for holding and their hearts not nearly as impressionable and vulnerable, as right now. I didn't want to give that up for a part time job or a few more college credits. For now I am going to once again venture into my mother hood with the determination to love my children more then I love myself. I realize that society doesn't always recognize true success and if I can raise my children to be good people, to love God, to love others, then that is more fulfilling then any degree I could ever earn, or any resume I could ever create. If I can display God to them through my love, then that is what truly matters. Their hearts are everlasting, while this world and all that is in it is quickly fading away . . .After all who else is there to mold their little hearts and minds? . . .Ok, back to Cheerios and laundry.
Earlier that day I had been having a personal break down. I was consumed with thoughts that I had wasted the best years of my life. Being married at the young and naive age of 19 has plagued me in a way. I was quick to become dependent upon a man and have babies. Blame it on my dysfunctional family that never taught me independence, blame it on my idealistic beliefs at the time, somewhere in my adolescent mind I convinced myself that getting married at such a young age was normal. So, I have now been a stay at home mom for almost seven years.
For whatever reason that particular day, before I was ever standing at the daycare, I was ready to run out the door of my own home. If I saw one more Cheerio stuck on the couch covers, if I heard one more whine about having to pee, if I had to wipe one more butt, or get one more glass of water I was going to scream. It could have been PMS, it could have been the fact that my husband has been studying day and night for grad school, I don't know. But that day I lost it. I was walking around the house crying ,while my three year old Noah frantically colored pictures of the Hulk for me in his coloring book in order to cheer me up.
I kept thinking "forget this"! "I give up"! "Who was I fooling to to think I could actually be a stay at home mom?" I began to scheme a way of escape in my head as the kids crawled up the walls and sorted through the already messy laundry pile. Maybe I'd get a part time job at . . .I don't know . . A coffee house, a pet store, something, anything to get some time away! To feel I've accomplished something more then making dinner and fixing a broken toy. Or maybe I should just focus on school. I have no degree.I've never been to college and its amazing how awkward life is socially when you don't even have a BA or a BS or a PHD. How humiliated I sometimes feel when people ask my occupation and I say I am a stay at home mom .I think of myself as lower on the spectrum of the modern day women. I have all the ambition of a young successful women, but feel I have no outlet. All of these thoughts were racing through my head that day when my unsuspecting husband, oblivious to my thoughts, walks into the door with a smile on his face. I was so mad at the time I wanted to slap him. Of course it wasn't his fault. He had just returned from a long day at the university he attends. While he works his way up from a Masters to a PSYD, I can sometimes feel a bit left out and envious, as I stay at home and fold socks and wipe at runny noses. I was feeling the need to be powerful, successful, or gain some worth in this world. Needless to say he was the victim of my terrible day at home. I spitefully announced that I'd be getting a full time job and leaving Noah and Maisie at daycare. He raised his eyebrows at the idea, but said that he supported me if I really thought that was what I needed and if I was that depressed with being a stay at home mother. He also reminded me of my value as a mother and questioned my motives for wanting to get a job. However much his questions stirred up my own, fixated on my new idea of success, that very hour I put on my shoes and headed out the door to find job applications. All the while I was thinking of not seeing Maisie, Noah and Elijah for most my day. I missed their grubby little faces already. The feelings of doubt began to sink in. And after my tour at the daycare I decided I probably just needed to take a deep breath and re-evaluated what I thought.
As I searched for job apps I stopped by Borders to find a birthday gift for a friend of mine. As I scanned the shelves for something interesting my eyes stopped upon a journal for mothers. I opened it up to the first page and tears met my eyes as I read the following poem from a man to his mother;
You wrote no lofty poems
That critics counted art,
But with a nobler vision
You lived them in your heart.
You carved no shapeless marble
To some high soul design.
But with a finer sculpture
You shaped this soul of mine.
You built no great cathedrals
That centuries applaud;
But with a grace exquisite
Your life cathedraled God.
Thomas Fessenden
As the tears came to my eyes I resolved right then and there to be a better mother and to be a mother that had joy for what she did. Sure I was still a little sad but I was reminded of the greater things in life. The heart within each child of mine.Suddenly all the laughter of my children and all the memories I had of them running around the house came back to me. Did I really want to leave that behind? After all, I only have three years left of this, and then they'll be off to school and I'll never be able to live these days again. Their hands will never be as small for holding and their hearts not nearly as impressionable and vulnerable, as right now. I didn't want to give that up for a part time job or a few more college credits. For now I am going to once again venture into my mother hood with the determination to love my children more then I love myself. I realize that society doesn't always recognize true success and if I can raise my children to be good people, to love God, to love others, then that is more fulfilling then any degree I could ever earn, or any resume I could ever create. If I can display God to them through my love, then that is what truly matters. Their hearts are everlasting, while this world and all that is in it is quickly fading away . . .After all who else is there to mold their little hearts and minds? . . .Ok, back to Cheerios and laundry.
a poem I wrote
You laugh and silence our deep questions,
your grunts of apathy are foreign, they haunt me and displace me.
I'm left to wonder all alone why I'm here in the first place.
Is anything sacred to you? You sometimes take the breath from life.
You meet innocence with scornfullness, laughing in the face of the dreamer.
Does the silence ever beckon you to wonder?
I wish you could just sit here for a moment and wonder with me.
Do you ever listen to all the noise of humanity?
Can't you hear that beautiful, tragic buzz?
You act as if you've already lived to seventy and there's nothing left to know.
No point in asking anything or exploring any further.
I sit alone in a room where your breath penetrates the air, but the emptiness
echo's off the walls, reverberating into my heart all I've ever known of you.
My words are like soundwaves, existing, carrying a message, a meaning,
a rhythm. But you're like a radio that's been turned off, broken, collecting
dust in the corner. You can't pick me up can you?
I just said something, did you hear?
Hello? Hello?
I keep wondering and you sit there so oblivious.
your grunts of apathy are foreign, they haunt me and displace me.
I'm left to wonder all alone why I'm here in the first place.
Is anything sacred to you? You sometimes take the breath from life.
You meet innocence with scornfullness, laughing in the face of the dreamer.
Does the silence ever beckon you to wonder?
I wish you could just sit here for a moment and wonder with me.
Do you ever listen to all the noise of humanity?
Can't you hear that beautiful, tragic buzz?
You act as if you've already lived to seventy and there's nothing left to know.
No point in asking anything or exploring any further.
I sit alone in a room where your breath penetrates the air, but the emptiness
echo's off the walls, reverberating into my heart all I've ever known of you.
My words are like soundwaves, existing, carrying a message, a meaning,
a rhythm. But you're like a radio that's been turned off, broken, collecting
dust in the corner. You can't pick me up can you?
I just said something, did you hear?
Hello? Hello?
I keep wondering and you sit there so oblivious.
MY OWN THOUGHTS ON SAVING THE WORLD
Children of the black dust/ My own thoughts on saving the world . .
"Think about the starving children in Africa", I frequently hear from others when I am told to be thankful for all I have. We've all been told that at some point. Yet we are all so self involved with our own personal tragedies and worries, its a challenge to keep up with all the horrific tragedy that occurs in everyday life over seas. Should we really care? I mean it doesn't seem that we can do anything about it.Also just because we are aware of others and their sufferings, doesn't take away the reality of our own suffering.
If there were two of me I suppose one of me would stay home with the kids and the other me would be feeding the homeless, working in an orphanage in Calcutta, saving child prostitutes in the Philippines, helping young mothers in the inner city. The need is just so great . . . But what can I do at this minute when I hear about these sad stories of real people that experience such darkness each day? I think the answer is not only to pray for those that suffer worldwide, but to embrace the tragic reality of their lives and carry it with me in my heart. Ignoring it will only make me complacent. Convincing myself that its not my job to one day help, or that the need is too great to meet, will only seal my fate to live out the American dream, with no regard to the dieing and lonely people in the rest of the world. In ten years I'll be so wrapped up in my own life that I'll have no time to even think of the starving children and orphans and homeless. But wait, that doesn't need to be the case.
I have been thinking of things I can do lately to make my own children aware of the rest of the world. One of my ideas was to buy a world map and hang it in our house. Each week I would pin a different place in the world and teach my children who lives there and the history of that country and then specifically pray for the needs of that country. It seems so simple, but profound all at once.I would be so blessed to instill that concern for others in the hearts of my children.
I don't necessarily think its a good idea to put ministry before family.After all, our first ministry should be our own family. I have seen and heard stories of families and children ruined by this notion to put the needs of the world before the needs of their family. The dysfunction and hurt being the direct result of diving in to save the world,while putting your own family on the back burner.
Mother Teresa said "It is easy to love the people far away. It is not always easy to love those close to us. It is easier to give a cup of rice to relieve hunger than to relieve the loneliness and pain of someone unloved in our own home. Bring love into your home for this is where our love for each other must start.
She also said, "We think sometimes that poverty is only being hungry, naked and homeless. The poverty of being unwanted, unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty. We must start in our own homes to remedy this kind of poverty".
How profound is that? Isn't she right? If I cannot have compassion, respect and love for my own husband and children then in my mind, I do not belong over seas as a missionary. On the other hand, none of us are perfect and I do not think that God expects perfection in order to use us. If that were the case we would all be rendered absolutely useless.
So in being reminded once again of the poverty of others I think these are my thoughts on the issue. I should be concerned the most for my family, then my nearest neighbor, my friends, and even my enemies. After I can say I have honestly made a great effort to love those people placed in my life I can move on to be faithful in loving those poor souls that are the forgotten of this world.
But in the meantime, until the right time comes to go and help those people. I can daily remind myself and even immerse myself in being aware of the poverty and injustice in this world and I can make others aware of it as well. So read the article below and contemplate your own life today and don't forget the poor! Jesus said not to. I'm going to get that world map today. .
.http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vd3d3LmNubi5jb20vMjAwOC9URUNIL3NjaWVuY2UvMDkvMjgvd2hhdC5tYXR0ZXJzLmR1c3QvaW5kZXguaHRtbA==
As she cleans the carbon rods from exhausted D-cell batteries, Marjina holds her young child on her lap and gently lulls her to sleep.
Learn about these peoples lives, and contemplate your own in comparison. Be thankful for all we have.
"Think about the starving children in Africa", I frequently hear from others when I am told to be thankful for all I have. We've all been told that at some point. Yet we are all so self involved with our own personal tragedies and worries, its a challenge to keep up with all the horrific tragedy that occurs in everyday life over seas. Should we really care? I mean it doesn't seem that we can do anything about it.Also just because we are aware of others and their sufferings, doesn't take away the reality of our own suffering.
If there were two of me I suppose one of me would stay home with the kids and the other me would be feeding the homeless, working in an orphanage in Calcutta, saving child prostitutes in the Philippines, helping young mothers in the inner city. The need is just so great . . . But what can I do at this minute when I hear about these sad stories of real people that experience such darkness each day? I think the answer is not only to pray for those that suffer worldwide, but to embrace the tragic reality of their lives and carry it with me in my heart. Ignoring it will only make me complacent. Convincing myself that its not my job to one day help, or that the need is too great to meet, will only seal my fate to live out the American dream, with no regard to the dieing and lonely people in the rest of the world. In ten years I'll be so wrapped up in my own life that I'll have no time to even think of the starving children and orphans and homeless. But wait, that doesn't need to be the case.
I have been thinking of things I can do lately to make my own children aware of the rest of the world. One of my ideas was to buy a world map and hang it in our house. Each week I would pin a different place in the world and teach my children who lives there and the history of that country and then specifically pray for the needs of that country. It seems so simple, but profound all at once.I would be so blessed to instill that concern for others in the hearts of my children.
I don't necessarily think its a good idea to put ministry before family.After all, our first ministry should be our own family. I have seen and heard stories of families and children ruined by this notion to put the needs of the world before the needs of their family. The dysfunction and hurt being the direct result of diving in to save the world,while putting your own family on the back burner.
Mother Teresa said "It is easy to love the people far away. It is not always easy to love those close to us. It is easier to give a cup of rice to relieve hunger than to relieve the loneliness and pain of someone unloved in our own home. Bring love into your home for this is where our love for each other must start.
She also said, "We think sometimes that poverty is only being hungry, naked and homeless. The poverty of being unwanted, unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty. We must start in our own homes to remedy this kind of poverty".
How profound is that? Isn't she right? If I cannot have compassion, respect and love for my own husband and children then in my mind, I do not belong over seas as a missionary. On the other hand, none of us are perfect and I do not think that God expects perfection in order to use us. If that were the case we would all be rendered absolutely useless.
So in being reminded once again of the poverty of others I think these are my thoughts on the issue. I should be concerned the most for my family, then my nearest neighbor, my friends, and even my enemies. After I can say I have honestly made a great effort to love those people placed in my life I can move on to be faithful in loving those poor souls that are the forgotten of this world.
But in the meantime, until the right time comes to go and help those people. I can daily remind myself and even immerse myself in being aware of the poverty and injustice in this world and I can make others aware of it as well. So read the article below and contemplate your own life today and don't forget the poor! Jesus said not to. I'm going to get that world map today. .
.http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vd3d3LmNubi5jb20vMjAwOC9URUNIL3NjaWVuY2UvMDkvMjgvd2hhdC5tYXR0ZXJzLmR1c3QvaW5kZXguaHRtbA==
As she cleans the carbon rods from exhausted D-cell batteries, Marjina holds her young child on her lap and gently lulls her to sleep.
Learn about these peoples lives, and contemplate your own in comparison. Be thankful for all we have.
Lona Fowler Poem
Middle Time Current mood: contemplative Category: Writing and Poetry
Middle Time
Between the exhilaration of Beginning and the satisfaction of Concluding is the middle Time
of enduring,changing, trying,
despairing, continuing, becoming.
Jesus Christ was the Man of God's Middle Time
between Creation and Accomplishment.
Through Him God said of Creation,
"Without mistake".
And of Accomplishment, "Without doubt".
And we in our Middle Times of wondering,waiting, hurrying, hesitating, regretting, revising;
We who have begun many things-
and seen but few completed;
We who are becoming more- and less;
through the evidence of God's Middle Time have a stabilizing hint
that we are not mistakes, that we are irreplaceable, that our Being is
of interest, and our doing is of purpose, that our Being and our Doing
are surrounded by AMEN.
Jesus Christ is the Completer of unfinished people
with unfinished work
in unfinished times.
May He keep us from sinking, ceasing, wasting, solidifying-
That we may be for Him
experimenters, enablers, encouragers and associates in Accomplishment.
Lona Fowler
Middle Time
Between the exhilaration of Beginning and the satisfaction of Concluding is the middle Time
of enduring,changing, trying,
despairing, continuing, becoming.
Jesus Christ was the Man of God's Middle Time
between Creation and Accomplishment.
Through Him God said of Creation,
"Without mistake".
And of Accomplishment, "Without doubt".
And we in our Middle Times of wondering,waiting, hurrying, hesitating, regretting, revising;
We who have begun many things-
and seen but few completed;
We who are becoming more- and less;
through the evidence of God's Middle Time have a stabilizing hint
that we are not mistakes, that we are irreplaceable, that our Being is
of interest, and our doing is of purpose, that our Being and our Doing
are surrounded by AMEN.
Jesus Christ is the Completer of unfinished people
with unfinished work
in unfinished times.
May He keep us from sinking, ceasing, wasting, solidifying-
That we may be for Him
experimenters, enablers, encouragers and associates in Accomplishment.
Lona Fowler
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