What to do after the end of the world

I'm writing this on Monday evening. Until now, I've had no trouble thinking of topics to write about. I still have a few ideas, but I'm tired and sad because the world is awful and it took almost no time at all to politicize a tragedy. So the best I can do is share the words of the amazing writer Anne Lamott, which she posted on her Facebook page soon after the news of the attacks on Paris. (This was a time when FB was NOT "of the devil," as I like to joke.) She offers no pat answers but some comfort and hope.

For now, I can hold on to these small glimmers of hope. And I'm making an apple crisp for dessert--
which I almost never do--that we can eat with ice cream because sometimes comfort food is in order.

I wish there was a website we could turn to called, "What it means, What is True, and What to do." Lots of very tense religious people are going to insist that their Scripture answers all these questions.

That's nice.

Lots of them will try to hustle us into joining them in Vengeance World. As that had just been so helpful before, right?

So where do we even begin today? What do we do when it feels like we are all doomed, and the future will only be worse, and we can't remember anything that ever helped us come through? From high school philosophy, I remember that Francis Bacon wrote, "'What is Truth?' asked jesting Pilate, and would not stay for an answer." It seemed the ultimate truth, at sixteen years old.

But I think we can do better than that. We have shards of truth, and we can gather them up, bits of broken mosaic tile that shine.

We know that this is a very dangerous place, that we are an extremely vulnerable species, that Cain is still killing Abel.

We know that "Why" is not a useful question; and "Figure it out" is not a good slogan.

We know that the poor, the innocent, babies and the very old, always bear the brunt.

So where do we find grace and light? If you mean right now, the answer is Nowhere. It's like after a child dies. Grace always does bat last, and the light always overcomes the darkness--always, historically. But not necessarily later the same day, or tomorrow, after lunch. Wendell Berry told me 25 years ago, in Advent, the darkest shortest days of winter, "It gets darker and darker and darker, and then Jesus is born." But it is only November 13! It gets even darker.

What is the answer? Gandhi is almost always the answer. Jesus's love for the poor and refugees is the answer. Adding a bit of light and warmth to these cold dark days doesn't hurt. Candles are beautiful and bring a soupçon of solace to our souls. People living on the streets could really use your old blankets and jackets.

Grace will always show up in the helpers, as Mr. Rogers' mother used to tell him in times of tragedy. But today, right now, if you have a nice bumper sticker that explains or makes sense of what happens in Paris, it's probably best if you keep that to yourself. It is definitely best that you not share it with me. It will cause me to get a tic in my eye and will guarantee that the next time I see you, I will run for my cute little life. Everyone in his or her right mind will. So how do we even know truth, in the midst of b.s. and lies?

What is true for me is that the shootings at Sandy Hook were the actual end of the world, evil or at least the most extreme mental illness made visible. There were no answers that day, the next day, the day after that. Well, you could go to certain web sites and Twitter posts, and I will not name names, and be told how stupid you were not to see that there was only one appreciate truth. Reload! But again, that was not helpful. What was helpful was that we stuck together in our horror, grief, anxiety and cluelessness. We grieved, we feared, we despaired, and raged, prayed; we reached out for any help at all; and these were appropriate responses. I am going to recommend that we do that today, and tomorrow. Wounds and trauma revealed were healed; eventually. Some of us couldn't eat at all, someone of us binged, some of us couldn't turn off the TV, some of us couldn't turn it on. Those were all appropriate. We felt like shit, and let some time pass, talked and stuck together. And day by day, we came through.

Talking and sticking together was the answer. It honest to God was. We were gentler, more patient and kind with each other. If people are patient and kind, that's a lot. It means something of the spirit is at work. For me, that is grace made visible. It doesn't come immediately, and it doesn't come naturally. What comes naturally is, Shoot the mo-fos. So when we could, after Sandy Hook, we paused, breathed, sighed, gasped at the rising numbers. Nothing changed legally, not one word, but we came through. Hearts were healed, imperfectly. People walked, lived fully, and even danced again, after bad psychic fractures that did not heal quite right, and that still hurt some days.

We will again, but it takes time. I so hate this! Hate this, hate this, hate this, and do not agree to this, but have no alternative, because it is Truth: it will take time. Today, we try to keep the patient comfortable--ourselves, our beloved, the poor.

We're at the beginning of human and personal evolution. Whole parts of the world don't even think women are people.

So after an appropriate time of being stunned, in despair, we show up. Maybe we ask God for help. We do the next right thing. We buy or cook a bunch of food for the local homeless. We return phone calls, library books, smiles. We make eye contact with others, and we go to the market and flirt with old or scary unusual people who seem lonely. This is a blessed sacrament. Tom Weston taught me decades ago that in the face of human tragedy, we go around the neighborhood and pick up litter, even though there will be more tomorrow. It is another blessed sacraments. We take the action and the insight will follow: that we are basically powerless, but we are not helpless.

I have no answers but know one last thing that is true: More will be revealed. And that what is true is that all is change. Things are much wilder, weirder, richer, and more profound than I am comfortable with. The paradox is that in the reality of this, we discover that in the smallest moments of amazement, at our own crabby stamina, at kindness, to lonely people who worry us, and attention, at weeping willow turning from green to gold to red, and amazement, we will be saved.

P.S. The apple crisp was delicious and it made my family happy. And I bought extra nonperishables to donate to the food drive at L's school. And I contacted a friend who's grieving a death and made plans to get together.

One small gesture at a time to combat despair. One candle at a time to light the darkness. 

There Is No War on Christmas. I Promise.

Now that I have reassured myself that the fake man buns are not going to become a thing, at least among the 40+ age group in my FB feed, I feel I am ready to move on.

Seriously, I am loving blogging every day. I think I am going to try to continue. It's amazing how writing more = more things to write about.

I did want to write about the Starbucks cup "controversy." Yes, I put "controversy" in scare quotes because it really wasn't a controversy until people started reacting to it. And then it became an issue.  I hope you aren't completely sick of hearing about it--I do have a tendency to wait to jump on the bandwagon too late. In this case, earlier this week, I actually shared a thoughtful post by my friend Rocky Rudd and also a picture that stated, "If you want to keep Christ in Christmas, feed the hungry, cloth [sic] the naked, forgive the guilty, welcome the stranger and the unwanted child, care for the ill, love your enemies."

I think that all of us, Christian or not, can agree that the best way to celebrate Jesus's birth would be to take care of the people He loves. Which, in case you haven't been paying attention, is everybody.

However, I did notice something after someone I don't know posted on The Demon Facebook that they hadn't seen any posts by Christians actually criticizing the red cup. Lots of posts admonishing other Christians to stop freaking out about the cup, but no actual freaking out.

It turns out that contrary to the "reporting" by the media, "Christians" as a group, or even enough of them to count as a significant minority, weren't up in arms about the cup at all to begin with. As I understand it, one former pastor who now makes videos on YouTube for a living threw a fit about the cup redesign then the media blew it out of proportion, and then we Christians started saying, "Everybody just shut up!"

I admit it. I broke my own rule by not researching the latest "controversy" before jumping in to comment. I've been a longtime user of Snopes.com since the days before social media when the latest urban legends circulated via mass email. (And yes, I have been that annoying person who sent a link to the whole group proving the scare tactics were groundless.) But this time, I think the reason many of us spoke up is that in the past, Christians have overreacted to Christmas marketing by retailers.

Remember the "War on Christmas?" Sheesh. That whole thing made me so mad. Just exactly how is an advertisement that says "Happy Holidays" waging war on Christmas? Whoever came up with that term, I salute you. You have the special gifts of hyperbole and fearmongering. Not sure why the Apostle Paul didn't include those in his list of spiritual gifts.

Look, retail stores have one goal and one goal only: to sell stuff. As a small business owner, I completely get that. You don't have to share our beliefs to become a customer of Village Cupboards. In fact, I'm pretty sure we would build your cabinets if you were a Satanist, as long as you pay on time and in green American dollars. (Although Justin might draw the line at constructing a sacrificial altar to the Evil One. I don't know, I'd have to ask him. We have a two-month waiting list right now, so even Satan would have to wait his turn.)

Wait, I got distracted amusing myself. My point (and I do have one) is that these stores, including Starbucks, are not waging war on anybody. It just makes sense that if there are some people who don't celebrate a holiday with religious connections, that the stores broaden their customer base to include more potential customers.

Besides, Christmas dominates all the other winter holidays already. Why do we have to insist on everyone saying "Merry Christmas?" We already have Christmas stuff appearing in stores the day after Halloween like poor Thanksgiving doesn't exist, like it's the middle child of the holidays (but that's another post for another time.) As talk show host Michael Medved said, it's a moot point:
the "War on Christmas" is over, and Christmas won.  

Let's be gracious about this, guys. I am so tired of people claiming that saying things like "Happy Holidays" or (gasp) "Happy Hanukkah" is persecution of Christians. What? No, it isn't. 

Let me clarify. Persecution is "a program or campaign to exterminate, drive away, or subjugate people based on their membership in a religious, ethnic, social, or racial group" (Dictionary.com). Have any of us been exterminated or subjugated based on our celebration of Christ's birth? Yeah, that's what I thought. Let me remind anyone who "feels persecuted" that no one is stopping you from saying "Merry Christmas." Most people of all faiths (or no faith) are fine with it. Personally, I am happy to take any cheerful holiday greetings because it's so awful when people are grim and horrible about shopping and driving around the holidays. 

Look, I get it, fellow believers in Christ, that it feels uncomfortable that the current culture doesn't subscribe to many of our beliefs. There was a time (now nostalgically known as the "good old days," aka the 1950s) when most of the dominant influences on our culture subscribed to Judeo-Christian values. We had our turn being in charge. Guess what? We still get to believe what we want to, and so does everybody else. That's the beauty of America! I admit to feeling uncomfortable when the smarmy "Christian" guy on the TV show always turns out to be a pervert. Sure, I don't like it when stereotypes are used to define a whole group of people, most of whom are kind and well-meaning, while a few bad apples are making the rest of the group look bad. I imagine a few other ethnic and religious groups have some experience with that kind of unfairness. It won't kill us to deal with some inaccurate portrayals of Christianity. We'll just have to try harder. 

So I was pleased to see that the only Christian response I saw to the red cups was, "So what, it's a cup." Now let's go and do what Jesus would actually do. It's a whole lot easier to click "Share" than to actually get out there and share food, clothes, and friendship with those who need them.

The Horror! The Horror!

I was going to blog about the Starbucks fake controversy, but that will have to wait because there is something more urgent that I feel I must address.

Y'all. Y'ALL.

No, your eyes are not deceiving you. Those are clip-on man buns.

I truly think I may have seen everything. It really feels like this is the End Times, y'all. Jesus just needs to come back and take us out of here. This world, it does not feel like home.

I am grateful that my husband doesn't have enough hair to attach one to his head and my son is too young to care about hair trends.

One of my teacher friends posted this on The Demon Facebook and tagged her college-student son, who apparently has taken great pains to grow a man bun and has succeeded in getting it long enough to put it in a ponytail and tuck the hair under once. His response was: "This angers me."

His mom commented that it was too bad he'd spent so much time and effort growing his hair when he could have just bought one of these, to which he replied, "Not that much effort, but I'll concede plenty of time."

I said, "Every woman ever knows about spending a lot of time on hair." In other words, no sympathy here, dudes with man buns. Why would you WANT to have hair long enough to put in a bun when short is so much easier?

During this conversation I had a revelation.

The man bun is this generation's mullet.

Think about it. A goofy-looking hairstyle that many guys sport, thinking how cool they look, never dreaming that one day it would be out of style and their kids will someday laugh themselves silly over pictures of Dad with a bun.


Also, can we talk about why it's called a "man bun" when a man wears it but on a woman, it's just a bun? There are quite a few things like this: purse = man purse (why not just "bag"?) The worst names are the compound "words" like "mandals" and "manpris." No. They are men's sandals and capris, period.

I don't want to have to say this again in my official capacity as the grammar police.

In other, more happy fashion news, I picked up my new ankle boots yesterday. I think I might have hit the fashion trifecta: stylish, comfortable, and inexpensive. You know that normally you have to pick any two. But these really are comfy and (after my $20-off coupon) only $34.00. There was no shipping charge since I picked them up in the store. I'll let y'all help me decide if they are on-trend:

I like this picture because it was much easier to take than a selfie. The blur of yellow is, of course, my scarf. That's a drop of water on my left foot, not a stain.

And now I will say good night because my daughter had her first basketball scrimmage at 5:00 this evening and we just got home.

Remember: just say no to clip-on man buns.

Booties Are For Babies

Nobody asked what kind of booties ankle boots I was buying, which, psssh, it's almost like y'all have lives or something, gaaahh. I ended up not buying either of the two pairs I was looking at because when I logged onto dsw.com, I saw these cuties on the front page of the boot section for 49.95 plus I had a 20.00 off of 49.00 coupon and the ship-to-store option made the shipping free.

Aren't they cute? They have a lower heel than I've been looking at, but really I don't have any longer pants that will rule these out. They are supposed to fit true to size and be really comfortable, and there were enough reviews to make that sound legit. I hate it when there are 7,286 reviews and the average is 3.2 stars out of a possible 5, which turns out to mean that half of the reviewers gave it 1 star and wish they could give it 0, want it to die in a fire, and I especially enjoy when they want it to be way better than anyone has a right to expect at that price point. "It can't raise the dead like I thought it would!" 

And then, lest you feel confident about passing it up, there are the gushing 5-star reviews that read like the item cures cancer and walks on water and also, the reviewer is the designer's mother or perhaps is being paid by someone. So that makes you unsure. How can the same item inspire such abject hatred and transcendent adoration?

It's a mystery. I just wrote the previous sentences and realized it sounds like I'm talking about a religious belief system. In a way, I suppose I guess I am: the modern religion of Materialism.

Ooooooh, Deep Thoughts with Hairline Fracture.

So I guess I did my duty by sacrificing at the Temple of Online Shopping (motto: Free Shipping Both Ways) and for now I give them 5 stars. (That also really bugs me: people who write a review without reading the book, or wearing the piece, or whatever. Usually they blame the manufacturer for the retailer's mistake instead of contacting customer service, meanwhile skewing the ratings average. Those kinds of people are too stupid to merit my consideration of their rating. It annoys me. If I ever write a book, I shouldn't ever check its reviews on Amazon, is what I'm saying.)

The shoes are in stock at a local store 30 minutes away (we measure distance in minutes if not hours here in Texas, and the speed is assumed to be "like a bat outta hell") so I could theoretically pick up these beauties in 4 hours, but I'm not feeling so great again so it will be at least tomorrow afternoon if not Monday. My husband is once again tyrannically insisting that I get dressed in actual clothes and leave the house to do something unenjoyable like eat a delicious dinner. 

I'm thinking I need more ice cream as an incentive. It's a good thing shoes always fit 'cause my pants may not after this weekend.

A Christian's Response to the Discovery of Abuse

Okay, so I haven't written about anything controversial on this here blog yet. That changes now, because I am all het up over something (and no, I don't know why I suddenly sound like an old-timey cowboy. I'll stop now.)

The Duggar family of TV fame has been forced to respond to allegations that one of their sons, Josh Duggar, molested several underage girls, including his own sisters. Josh Duggar has admitted the abuse and resigned from his position at Family Research Council. He and his parents have released statements, but since the statute of limitations in Arkansas is three years after the incident, he will face no criminal charges. Here is a thoughtful blog post about this story: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/lovejoyfeminism/2015/05/what-you-need-to-know-about-the-josh-duggar-police-report.html

Really, I could just copy and paste that post with added underlines and capital letters and monosyllabic exclamations of agreement in parentheses throughout, but because I want to develop my ability to analyze situations and think through them clearly, here goes.

At the time the Duggars learned about the incidents, they handled the situation completely wrongly. And they are still approaching it in a way that is inappropriate--no, it is WRONG and--dare I say it--DANGEROUS.

Please allow me to elaborate. First, I understand as a parent and a church leader, how tempting it is to hide such a discovery rather than report it to the proper authorities. In our society, child molestation is arguably the worst crime a person can commit. They likely couldn't stand the thought of their son being labeled for all the world to see as a hideous monster (ironically, this is what is happening now that the truth has come out.) We all know that child molesters are at the bottom of the prison pecking order, below even imprisoned cops in the prisoners' minds.* In the Duggars' minds, all those years ago, given the evangelical culture they surrounded themselves with, they were doing the right thing.

Here's why they were wrong.

1. They hid the evidence of the abuse. 
The Duggars thought they were doing the right thing (although once you discover your 14-year-old son is sexually abusing young girls, you don't start off with a stern, "Don't do that again." What was next--GROUNDING him?) Eventually they sent him away in an effort to prevent further occurrences. However, even this action was inadequate and harmful.

It appears that despite their statement that they had sent Josh to a "program" where he received "counseling," they actually sent him to live with a family friend who needed help with doing some remodeling. Because that's how you cure a teenage child molester, with some good old-fashioned manual labor, am I right?

The Duggars are probably not completely lying (though I would argue they are being intentionally disingenuous, which amounts to the same thing.) In the evangelical Christian world, "counseling" doesn't always mean "a series of sessions with a trained professional." It can also mean "one talk with a 'wise' elder." (The quotation marks around "wise" are there because I obviously don't think this was wise.) This was likely their intention by having Josh talk with yet another family friend who was a state trooper. "Don't do that, it's a sin and if you keep doing it and your parents can't hide the evidence, you'll go to jail." Boom, done.

No, it was ILLEGAL. State troopers are required to report any evidence of child abuse to the proper authorities for investigation. The friend should have said to Jim Bob, "Nope, sorry, I now have to tell the state this happened. And how dare you ask me to cover it up?" Maybe the trooper's willingness to sweep the incident under the rug has something to do with the fact that he was deeply involved in (and later convicted of possessing) child pornography? 

(The irony. It burns. From a purely Christian perspective, the Duggars' "discernment of spirits" spiritual gift was an epic fail.)

It's an unfortunate example of a Christian pattern of hiding criminal behavior and saying we are dealing with it privately, when in fact there are reasons why it should NOT be dealt with secretly within the family and church. Also, there are plenty of examples in the Bible which make it clear what God thinks about people who sin and lie about it. Hint: they involve being struck down dead instantly. Sometimes I wish God still did that. I would be a vengeful God, which is probably why I'm not God.

2. Christians are not above the law.
A lot of non-Christians are (understandably) offended by the Duggars' use of the words "mercy" and "grace." This is what happens when Christians start throwing around spiritual words in a case like this, where a man is being forced to admit that he did wrong although he was never punished by the justice system. To these people--and I would think especially to victims of abuse--it sounds like Josh Duggar  is saying, "Yeah, I admit I violated those girls as a kid. But I told Jesus I'm sorry, and he's totally cool with it, so you should be, too!"

No, I am not cool with it or willing to let you off the hook, bro, and neither should any Christian.

I see it like this: there are spiritual and non-spiritual elements to every wrongdoing. As a Christian, do I believe that God's grace extends to anyone who sincerely asks for it? Absolutely.

I also believe that God's grace has nothing to do with legal penalties. "Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's," Jesus said, and I think that can extend beyond taxes into "OBEYING THE FREAKING LAW OF THE LAND." Fellow believers, WE ARE NOT ABOVE THE LAW. We may be free from the religious "law of sin and death," but that does not make us immune from the laws of the United States of America. Otherwise we could just rob a bank, repent, and say, "Oopsies! Oh well, I repented to God, so I don't have to give the money back or go to jail."

My father is a pastor, and I'm thankful that even years ago, he was light-years ahead of the Duggars. Upon learning that a member of his congregation was sexually abusing his child, my father prayed with him...but escorted him to the authorities to turn himself in, with the understanding that my dad was going to turn him in if he didn't do it himself.

Unfortunately, far too many pastors think the word "grace" is literally a get-out-of-jail-free card. It's like we're so invested in the idea of God's unlimited grace that we can't identify sinful behavior as also worthy of legal punishment. Some of our extended family had to leave a church because the pastor was allowing a convicted child molester to teach Sunday School.

Yeah. Let that sink in for a minute. And our family members (the wife is a survivor of sexual abuse) were told to leave because they were not forgiving enough to be okay with this.

Note to pastors everywhere: DO NOT DO THIS. If you do, you are guaranteeing that more children will be abused. You are creating a haven for the abuser.

tl;dr Just because God forgives someone, that does not mean that they are free from the consequences of their actions. Period.

3. As Christians, our responsibility is to prevent this kind of thing from happening again, and to provide proper treatment.
As a PK**, I know about another situation in which one of the children was discovered to have been molesting another one for years. The parents freaked out and first denied it ("Not in OUR family!" is a common denial response) and then swept it under the rug and pretended it didn't happen.

Just imagine how damaging that is to the victims of the abuse. They are being told in effect that they are lying, that their feelings and experiences don't matter. They are shown that the abuser's reputation is more important than their pain (because it affects the family reputation, and it's important to keep up the image of the "perfect" family. And in this case, the family's livelihood--being on TV pretending to be portraying a perfect family--is at stake.) So the victims are told to keep quiet. And because they are Christians, they are told to forgive their abuser.

There are a lot of things I could say, but this post is getting too long. So I'll just say this: forgiveness is not excusing an abuser, or allowing him to get away with his heinous behavior. This has happened far too often in the Church--because the Church is a hierarchical, male-dominated structure. The powerless victims--women and children--are often bullied into silence. And that, my fellow believers, should not be. Jesus said that anyone who harmed a "little one" would be better off if they hung a huge rock around their neck and drowned themselves. Sounds pretty definitive to me.

Maybe it's just my background in psychology, but my first reaction on hearing any story in which a minor child victimizes another is that both kids need serious therapy. Yes, the victim definitely does (which does not seem to have happened in the Duggar case, at least not for their girls--I don't know what action the other parents took). But so does the perpetrator, if there is to be any hope for prevention of recurrence. If a kid acts out sexually with other kids, it often means that they have been abused themselves, that they think sexual acts are "normal" because they have been exposed to sexuality at an age when they shouldn't be. On the other hand, a 14-year-old boy, feeling sexual desires for the first time, in a repressed subculture where such things aren't talked about openly, might very well do what Josh Duggar did without having being sexually abused himself. But no matter what, his actions were abnormal and wrong, and should be labeled as such.

Look, as a Christian I believe that we've all sinned and come short of the glory of God. And some days I'm super thankful that my shortcomings aren't being broadcast for the whole world to see.

(I also haven't chosen to put my family on TV as an example of a perfect Christian family. But I digress.)

I just believe it is time for Christians to stand up and call abuse wrong. And to let everyone know that it will not be excused and tolerated and allowed to flourish under cover of our churches. Does grace cover all our sins, even the very worst ones? Without a doubt. But make no mistake: the same Bible says, "Be sure your sins will find you out."

In the case of Josh Duggar, they certainly have. I just hate that the revelation took so many years, and that he will not receive the punishment he deserves, nor will there be measures taken to protect children who are left alone with him. In no possible world is this a good outcome.



*I have no idea if this is true or if I just got it from popular culture. It seems right that even murderers would look down on men who abuse children, though.

**Preacher's Kid, for you godless heathens out there (just kidding! I love godless heathens! Some of my best friends are godless heathens! Please don't yell at me!)

Sunday Night Shopping

I finally hauled myself off the couch and went grocery shopping. I was too busy yesterday and really didn't want to go tonight but we were down to a third of a loaf of bread, half a bag of clementines and two blueberry toaster strudels, and toaster strudels are the only thing that motivates my children to wake up in the mornings. Even though they probably would have been on board with my idea to eat Girl Scout cookies instead.

(Seriously, what is it about those cookies? Are they so delicious because we can only get them part of the year, or do they bake crack in with the batter? All I know is it was a blessing and a curse when Miss Pink became a Girl Scout. I have a trunk full of cookies and that is a dangerous thing.)

Anyway, I have some thoughts to share about the Mall of Warts, as I call Sam Walton's brainchild.

1. First of all, the Wart-Mall and I have a love-hate relationship. It's the closest store to my house and also the cheapest. On everything. If I go to any other store I inevitably end up complaining about the prices. W-M also price matches any item that another store is offering for a lower price, so I save quite a few dollars that way. IF W-M actually has the item. Things are often out of stock there, or else shelved in some wacky place where it wasn't located last week. This week they didn't have avocados. In Texas. How do they expect us to manage without our guacamole? So occasionally I have to go to HEB or Aldi, which is a nice change but I always come crawling back to W-M.

Wart-Mall, I wish I could quit you.

2. I am an impatient person. I wish it weren't so, but I am. I can't stand to be behind someone who is barely moving down the aisles. I try to remember that most of them can't help it, but really, people, if you are that slow, the polite thing to do is scoot over to the far side of the aisle and let the rest of us pass you. Yet some people block the aisles while they locate the perfect can of beans and act like they don't even notice the line of carts backing up into the frozen foods. I bet they are the same people who drive my husband crazy by going 40 miles per hour in the fast lane.

3. W-M should give a raise to the cashier who checked me out tonight. Not only was she efficient and fast, she was also friendly and hilarious. She told me about her 99-year-old great-grandmother who has been married 80 years. I told her that was the longest I had ever heard of anyone being married.The cashier's great-grandfather is barely hanging on, and her great-grandma says he needs to go ahead and die.

"Ohhh, does she hate to see him suffer?" I asked sympathetically.

"No," she said. "She's eyeballing other men." We laughed. "She's a mess."

 99 years old and looking for her second husband. That just made my night, even if I never did get any avocados.

After-Christmas Thoughts

Today has been a lazy day. As if I haven't been lazy almost every day since the holidays began! I am spending most days in my sweatpants, and dread putting on real pants, as the waistbands insist on reminding me that I've been eating too many goodies.

But never mind--in this week between Christmas and New Year's, anything seems possible in the near future: eating healthier, getting up earlier to exercise, getting the house organized with the piles of new toys...

I often start getting anxious when we are home with--not nothing to do; there is always plenty I could be doing (see list above for ideas) but nothing concrete. Give me an appointment and I'm fine. I know it makes no sense. My therapist used to call it "free-floating anxiety." Meaning, I suppose, that if I am too free to float, I get anxious. So I am alternating being lazy with actual useful tasks like laundry, making a grocery list--short, manageable tasks that don't make me feel overwhelmed.

We drove back yesterday from visiting Justin's family in South Louisiana. It's a 6 1/2 hour drive without stopping much, and the kids were real troupers, even without a portable DVD player (long story--we had to borrow a truck to bring tools). We also learned that our dog, Gidget, gets carsick. Thankfully, she was in her kennel and we could change out the towel in there--and she only threw up once on the way back. If it didn't cost so much to board animals....

I was happier to find out that my idea to listen to The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe on audiobook interested Miss Pink more than reading it with me. I don't know if she's ever going to love Narnia as much as I do, but at least she got interested and wants to listen to the next book whenever we have a trip longer than across town. Success!

Speaking of success, the kids were happy with the presents they received. SO glad I am raising kids who seem to be easy to please and thankful. Someone in my Twitter stream linked to a Twitter account called @fart whose owner compiled all the tweets of teenagers who were furious because they didn't get either an iPad, iPhone (or the right color of iPhone, OMG) or a CAR for Christmas. After reading those for a while I didn't want to live on this planet anymore. I also wanted to yell at my kids, "Don't you EVER act like this or I am not responsible for my actions!" Miss P's biggest present was an iPod Shuffle and Mr. Blue got a Lego space station. They also got cool stuff from both grandparents, and a few aunts and uncles, so they are very lucky children. My job is to make sure they understand that none of these things are a given, nor are we entitled to them.

And now I kind of want to remind myself of all of that, since I have a new iPhone and am about to use my Christmas money to buy myself a Kindle, but then I also want flat-heeled brown boots and new jeans and in fact an entire new winter casual wardrobe since I am officially sick of all my clothes....See how hard it is not to get the wants?

My family is safe, warm, healthy, well-fed (REALLY well-fed), and together.I am thankful.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have some laundry to fold.

When Good Teachers Make Bad Choices

As a teacher by profession even when I was staying at home, I have always been averse to being That Parent. You know That Parent, the one who drives the teachers crazy by complaining about everything that goes on in the class when That Parent isn't there to protect their delicate flower--I mean child.

I have had 11th grade teachers tell me that parents complained that their teenager was asked to read The Crucible because "it's about witchcraft."

This type of parent annoys me because they are not well-informed. I think it's safe to say that The Crucible is not pro-witchcraft; it's simply anti-witch hunts. I can't be sure without a copy in front of me, but I'm pretty sure that there is nothing definitely supernatural in the play; there are merely accounts from eyewitnesses who claim they saw Goody So-and-so dancing with the devil, and so forth. Miller's point is that people can get caught up in group hysteria when their only hope of exoneration is condemning someone else, as was happening in 1950s Hollywood when Senator McCarthy was accusing everyone of being a secret Communist. There are important lessons we can learn from the play that are applicable to modern-day hunts for what our society considers evil, and actual devil-worship is not really a problem these days.

But the 17-year-old students whose parents freak out because OMG! Witches! are not going to learn to learn from history in order to keep it from repeating itself. Sad.

Believe me, you don't want to get me started on people who rail against Harry Potter. My feeling is, "If you have READ the books and still feel it is inappropriate for your child, fine. If you have just HEARD that it is pure evil, you have no grounds to complain. You're the parent; presumably as an adult you can handle reading/watching the potentially harmful material and DOING YOUR JOB as a parent to decide if you are going to let your child read/watch it."

Whew. You didn't even get me started on that topic; I just went off on it, all on my own.

Even though I try to support teachers and their right to decide what to teach, I felt compelled to write the following email to Miss Pink's music teacher. He is an enthusiastic teacher and Miss P loves him and his class. However, I thought about it and realized I couldn't let these lessons go by without saying something. If I did, I would be remiss in my responsibility to make sure my child is not exposed to age-inappropriate concepts. Seriously, what was he thinking to let kindergartners and first-graders (including kids up through 5th grade; they have several weeks of music class together per year) watch the "Thriller" video and the movie Walk the Line?

Here is my email.

Dear Mr. ______,

I realize I should have contacted you right away, but with the holiday I let it slip my mind. However, I did want to let you know that after Miss Pink watched the "Thriller" video in music class, she had trouble sleeping for several nights because she couldn't stop thinking about the scary images. She is pretty imaginative and I guess it was just too scary for her. As a parent, I'm sure you understand how hard it is to get a freaked-out child to calm down and go to sleep. I realize you only wanted to introduce the kids to the music of Michael Jackson, but in the future, you might not want to show that type of video to classes that include younger kids.

Also, I could not figure out from what Miss Pink told me if the students watched the whole movie of Walk the Line, so if they only watched clips of the music, please ignore the following. I love Johnny Cash and the movie based on his life, but my husband and I feel the themes of drug addiction and infidelity were too adult for our first-grader. We would have liked to have had a note home so we could have opted out for that lesson(s). Trust me, as a teacher I understand it's hard to find interesting films that relate to your subject, and I hesitated to complain because I don't want to be That Parent who makes life hard for teachers who are doing their best, but I felt you would want some constructive feedback for the future. Please believe that I only want to help and that I am not angry because no serious harm was done; I am just asking you to rethink using these materials, or at least check with parents and/or the administration before using them in the future.

If you feel you need to meet with me in person or over the phone, you could call me at ______. Simply letting me know via email that you've heard my concerns would be enough to fix the issue from my point of view, however.

Best,
Alison ____

I tried to be conciliatory because I know teachers may get defensive when they perceive a parent is attacking them. I also went to the teacher directly rather than going above his head to the principal right away. In my opinion, parents should give the teacher a chance to apologize, explain, and offer a solution to the problem before they bring in the big guns. If the teacher responds appropriately, I will let it drop because I honestly don't think any real harm was done. Miss P finally forgot about Michael turning into a werewolf (although it took 3 or 4 nights) and she probably didn't even know drugs were being used in those scenes. Notice that I didn't jump to conclusions based on what my child had said since I really don't know if they watched the whole movie. Parents should remember that what their child says is from a kid's point of view and may not be 100% accurate, so we should give the teacher a chance to explain before we freak out. (There are exceptions to what I'm saying, such as when something really bad happens and you have to demand that something be done right away.)

What do y'all think? Is this a letter that will probably get the results I want--or was I even too wishy-washy? What should I do if the teacher blows off my concerns? And do you have any stories to share of how to approach--or how NOT to approach--a child's teacher?

Separated From the World

I have often wondered if I should write about my religious background and how it has changed in the past five years, and now that lots of people Beck expressed interest, I've decided to write about it. It may end up being too long for one post, but I'll try to give you the picture without too many extraneous details.

First, some background. I am a preacher's daughter--third-generation Pentecostal on my mother's side and fourth-generation on my father's. My dad, grandfather, and great-grandfather were all pastors, so that gives you an idea of how deeply rooted our family was in our denomination. When I was growing up, church was the center of our lives, not only for worship, but also for almost all of our recreation and entertainment, mostly because we weren't allowed to do so many other things that were "worldly." We also had a church-school, so of course I attended it. Therefore, I spent my youth in a very small, sheltered world in which it was possible to hold on to the beliefs that separated us from the secular world outside.

What were we allowed to do? It's easier to list all the things we weren't allowed to do: drink and smoke, of course; dance; curse; gamble; listen to secular music; swim with members of the opposite sex; go to the movies; and TV was frowned on by my grandparents' generation and still forbidden for ministers. Women were not supposed to cut our hair at all, wear pants or shorts or skirts above the knee, wear anything low-cut or sleeveless, wear makeup (fortunately when I reached puberty, my mom interpreted this rule as "no colored makeup," so I was allowed to wear foundation and powder over my pimples ) and no jewelry, except some churches allowed wedding rings. Men had it relatively easier: they were not to wear shorts or tank tops; and long hair and facial hair was frowned on.

These were the unspoken rules at our church. Some churches were much more strict. I know a woman whose former pastor banned bows in the girls' hair. Bows might have been an unfortunate fashion choice in the eighties, but were they really evil? Even at the time I thought that rule was silly. My parents once sat through a sermon titled "Five-Dollar Red Shoes" which were apparently too expensive and a dangerous color. And on and on--whatever a particular man (I almost hate to call them "ministers") was against, he railed against as sinful and many people were obedient. It was almost sinister, the amount of control these men wielded over their congregations.

As I got older, the rules began to relax--or, rather, we stretched them. My dad let us do some things on vacation, like watching TV or wearing a bathing suit in a motel pool, that we couldn't do at home. I now know that he was starting to feel ambivalent about the guidelines he had been raised to uphold, and he must have decided that what the church didn't know about would be okay for us to do.

Of course, that led to more hypocrisy--although we would have been shocked to hear ourselves called hypocrites. In reality we were trying to rebel, but for a long time it was a secret rebellion, because my parents were too afraid to openly proclaim that they didn't believe everything their denomination stood for. I don't really blame them. After all, their whole livelihood was at stake. But it wasn't that they cynically decided to espouse beliefs they didn't hold in order to keep a job. No, I think they genuinely didn't know what to believe, because they had been taught for their whole lives that if you maintained the "holiness standards" (that's what we called the rules), you were holy. And by contrast, if you didn't--if you trimmed your hair, or snuck into a movie theater, God wasn't going to be pleased with you. I never got the impression that God would cast me into Hell for wearing jeans, but he would be disappointed and upset and would punish me in some way that I was pretty sure I wouldn't like. (My view on this probably had to do with my father's discipline style, which worked well on me because I hated to be disapproved of. My dad would say, "Ali, I'm so disappointed in you," and I would dissolve in a puddle of remorse and wish he would just spank me. But other parents and pastors certainly did imply, or even mandate, that God was marking down all your transgressions and you were just about this close to getting on his last nerve, and then if the Second Coming was that night, you were getting Left Behind.)

Next installment: how I started to realize that maybe God didn't care as much about outward appearances as I'd been told.

Let's Bop, Baby! Or, On Second Thought, Let's Not

Somehow we have reached the stage in which the kids get to dictate the music we listen to in the car. I thought that wouldn't happen for at least five more years. I mean, they're six and three, why wouldn't they want to listen to the greatest hits of the 80's, 90's, and today? I had absolutely no say in what I had to listen to until I started driving. Kids today! (Imagine me pounding my cane on the floor next to my wheelchair.)

It all started when McDonald's gave away KidzBop CD's with the Happy Meals. I should have known that a company who can't even spell "kids" correctly is bad news. And "bop"? Who the heck "bops" anymore? That sounds like something you do down at the sock hop in your poodle skirt before sharing an ice cream soda with two straws with your steady boyfriend.

And these songs weren't from that era (the greatest hits of the 50's...). In case you (luckily) were not aware, KidzBop produces versions of popular songs with kids singing them (usually the solos are sung by adults who are impersonating the original artists). These are songs you don't need to search for, too. Just turn the radio on and you'll hear them. They are the hottest hits of today, the one-hit wonders, the bubblegum pop so schmaltzy it makes your teeth hurt. You can't escape these songs, and now they are available on CD so your kids can listen to them over and over and OVER again until you feel like beating your head on the steering wheel. Just don't get stuck in traffic, is my advice.

I felt kind of strange listening to these songs with my Very Small Children. Most of the songs had been sanitized of lyrics that might be offensive (in "Photograph" by Nickelback, the words have been changed to "oh my gosh") but some of the concepts are age-inappropriate. It just seems wrong for a first-grader to memorize all these songs about hooking up and falling in love (although I have to be honest, my kids have heard their share of Love Songs with Delilah). I just don't necessarily want them at this age to be thinking about getting this party started and being hot and then cold and ending up bleeding love. And somehow it seems that having kids sing those songs is almost worse than occasionally hearing the originals in the mall or in someone's minivan. Having kids sing them makes it seem that the concepts belong to kids, and they really shouldn't.

Being inconsistent and also lazy enough to want to avoid a fuss, I let the kids listen to those Happy Meal CD's (which had only five songs each--and believe me, they were burned in my brain) until I could check out some other KidzBop CDs from the library. (Because that's how we roll--free music, at least until the due date.) I chose the 80's Gold and later the Country, thinking maybe they might be less inappropriate than the recent hits. Hahahaha not really. I didn't even know that the lyrics to "Hey Mickey" were so risque.

So come on and give it to me any way you can
Anyway you want to do it it, I'll treat you like a man

At this point I hoped it just went over Miss Pink's head (I know it went over Mr. Blue's.) So far we have not gotten a call from the school saying she's yelled across the playground to a boy that he's so fine he blows her mind. But the country disc was odd in a different way. Some of the choices were fine, like "Life Is a Highway" and "Jesus Take the Wheel" (hey, I just noticed both of those use car metaphors.) But then there were a couple of songs in which the subject matter was just not something kids would relate to: "Why" which asks, "Why does it always come down to you leaving before I say I love you?" Which on further reflection, heart-breakingly, may be something kids are more familiar with than they should be--and in which case, why remind them that grownups can be so bad at relationships? The other one is a song, originally made popular by Leann Rimes, I believe, that tells about a thirty-year-old woman who had "thought by now she'd have a man, two car seats in a minivan" and who now tells the world that "something's gotta give."

[Side note: Something's gotta give...or what? The song is saying something's gotta give you butterflies, and you're not going to settle until you get True Love, but I don't understand the ultimatum. "Universe, you better send me a man...or I SWEAR I'm going down to the sperm bank and starting a family all by myself!"

Judging by how much help I need to raise my children, I don't recommend starting out alone on purpose. And desperation is not all that attractive. I'm just sayin'.]

And my FINAL point in this diatribe is: why remake these songs anyway? Yes, I know the answer is "to get our greedy paws on the huge sums of money spent by preteens on useless crap" but really, wouldn't you rather listen to Bon Jovi rock out instead of a pretender? The way this is going, my kids aren't going to know the difference between songs that defined an era and the cheesy cover versions voiced by overly cheerful fluting-voiced teenyboppers (there's that word again, and again I sound like an old fart!) And FYI, the Michael Jackson impersonator does a particularly egregious version of "ABC"--he couldn't even touch Michael's high notes. FAIL. I noticed while researching this post that the latest KB album includes a remake of "The Climb." Really, KidzBop? Really? Has it come to this, that a song sung by a real-life pop princess who portrays a pop princess on a TV show--in other words, a song written expressly for an audience of preteens--is repackaged and sold to that same audience?

*sound of my head exploding*

Okay, it's late and I need to get to bed because we have church in the morning. Tune in next time for my solution to this perplexing problem, or, How I Saved My Forehead from Permanent Damage.

To Whom It May Concern (Because You Sure Don't Seem Concerned Now)

I love those open letters that bloggers post which contain what they wish they could say to strangers or organizations (sorry, I'm too lazy to dig around people's archives for some links). Up until now, I haven't had any letters that I wanted to write. Until this week. Interestingly, most of them have to do with cars and/or my local Mart of Walls.

Dear people who shopped at the Wal-Mart near my house on Saturday, March 28, between the hours of 2:30 and 4:oo,
Thanks for making me lose the last drop of the milk of human kindness in my black, withered little heart. I'm sure my husband and kids appreciated it!
Your neighbor,
Alison

Dear guy who I saw getting out of a car with a "Baby on Board" sign in the window (in the Wal-Mart parking lot!), with a cigarette dangling from your mouth,
Aren't those "Baby on Board" signs supposed to make other drivers remember to drive safely around your bundle of precious cargo? If you're concerned about your child's safety, might I suggest refraining from exposing him or her to secondhand smoke?
I'm just sayin'.
A concerned An annoyed citizen

Dear people who park in the pick-up line in front of my child's school,
First of all, if this is your first time coming to pick up a child, I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt. You might think that you can park at the end of a line of cars, get out of your car, and walk up to the school to retrieve said child from the walk-up entrance, come back and drive away. But on the way back, you might want to notice how other cars have come up behind yours and are having to go around , all the while peering around your side mirrors to see if it's safe for them to get around your abandoned car. You might want to take note that in the line that goes past the school, all the other cars' drivers stay IN the car until they get to the place where they pick up their kids. The people who walk up park on side streets, not in the pick-up line. Got it? If not, you might try asking the person who enlisted you to pick this kid up about the RULES. Because if you don't get it on subsequent pickups, I might just have to go off on you. And hell hath no fury like a suburban mom without enough caffeine in her system. And possibly PMS.
Thank you for your attention to this matter.
Alison

Dear school that educates my daughter,
First of all, let me say that I love you. I really do. I love your creative teachers, supportive administrators, and excellent educational techniques that go far beyond worksheets and preparing for standardized tests. But dude. You are nickel and diming me to death. No, make that five- and ten-dollaring me to death.

Just in the past two weeks, I have received the paperwork about: two fundraisers for my kid to sell, practically guaranteeing that I have to buy the products; a trip to the zoo; money so that the room mom can buy materials for the teacher's end-of-the-year present; money for the kindergarten cap and gown; two charity events that require us to seek out donations including a day I must pay $2 for my kid to get to wear jeans and boots instead of the uniform.

I don't know how to end this letter except that man...I was SO wrong when I thought public school wasn't going to cost me anything.
A disillusioned mom,
Alison

I did it

Thanks to all of you for your input on Facebook. I went ahead and signed up and so far I'm having fun with it. I've caught up with several friends whom I haven't seen in ages. It's especially fun to see pictures of their kids.

If you are on Facebook and would like to friend me, email me at hairlinefracture at gmail and we'll exchange information. Also, I'm keeping this blog separate from my Facebook account. Since I'm a pastor's kid, in the past some people would read my blog posts and if I vented, they would email them to my dad. Blogstalking + tattletaling! SO mature. That's actually why I stopped blogging on Xanga and started using Blogger. A lot of the same people (not to mention family) are on Facebook, which is fine for casual updates but this blog is where I share my deeper thoughts and feelings.

*tearing up* Did you know, dear readers, that you complete me?

That was me being silly. But I do need to write and this has become my place to do most of my writing. I have learned to edit what I write (even here! because I don't want to afflict you with TMI) and that doesn't mean I am not being myself. At the time of the above incident, I was in therapy, learning about who I really was and how to be that person. I was tired of pretending to be perfect and I was excited to say what I thought and felt, whenever I wanted to. Plus I didn't really understand that the Internet is a public place, and anyone can read your words unless you prevent them from doing so. I AM myself here, and on Facebook, just different layers of me.

I'm like an onion. I have layers.

What is with me and the silly references to movies?

Anyway, blogging is my first love and I'll never abandon it for Facebook. I may have a stalker here; I wouldn't know. I guess I just prefer my blog to be stalked by total strangers than by judgmental acquaintances. Lots of love and y'all have a lovely day.

WT--Fill in the blank

I knew I'd have to deal with something like this, but I didn't know it would be so soon.

Today after school Miss Pink told me that a boy in her class drew a picture of her with parts showing that shouldn't be showing, if you get my meaning. Justin was nearby and I called his attention to what she was saying. We asked her if she had told the teacher and she said yes. She started to cry a little (probably because our faces were so serious) and we comforted her, telling her she hadn't done anything wrong, in fact she had done exactly right by telling the teacher and us. She didn't know how the teacher had dealt with the boy. After we loved on her and told her we would talk to the teacher, she was fine and went back to playing in the back yard.

They are in kindergarten. MAN. I want to go back to the days when figuring out how to soothe a crying baby was my biggest problem!

I emailed the teacher, choosing my words carefully because I have been on her side of the desk and I didn't want to come across as accusing her of not doing her job. In fact, I said, "I'm sure you already handled this" but that we would feel better if we checked with her that the situation was being handled appropriately. That was after school was over so she won't see that email till tomorrow. I have every reason to expect, from the kind of teacher she seems to be, that she will answer me and it will all be sorted out.

I have no idea what the school will do or what I should expect them to do, except that I don't want the boy to do it again. I wish I could protect my children's innocence forever, but sadly that cannot happen.