Reason 294

I could make you a list of the reasons that, following  3 years in seminary and even a degree upon completion, I did not go into ministry in a lead position. We'd start with 1. I'm not a good listener, move through to "lacks necessary levels of compassion" and "simply doesn't want to bear the weight of the responsibility that comes with preaching." But this evening helped me realize yet another reason: I don't have enough answers to hard situations, and I'm easily frustrated by that fact.
Some friends and family are really hurting tonight as one of their good friends will likely leave this earth in the next several hours - just hours after delivering new life. It's all so overwhelming and unexpected and completely heartbreaking. And try as one might to find one, there isn't a good "reason". The typical Christian response generally follows the lines of "We don't know God's plans, we just have to trust that He is good." And for someone who hasn't experienced God's goodness (or hasn't comprehended that experience), I can understand why such an explanation falls short. Goodness, anyone who has watched the funeral scene of Steel Magnolias with Sally Field's soliloquy knows this.
Death is all-around hard; it's most difficult for those left close in the wake. So in some ways when we ask, "why her?" we're also asking "why me?" as we bear the pain of grief. Our enlightened minds want to know cause and effect, so we can prevent future pain and ensure fairness in the distribution of hurt. But these situations don't provide what we're looking for. We have more questions than answers, more pain than joy, more anger than understanding. You're right. It's not fair.
Jesus had a friend that died. The story in the book of John can lead one to many different "applications" and understandings, but here's what I cling to: Jesus wept. And not just because his friend "who he dearly loved" had died, but also because he stood there and saw Mary, another beloved friend and When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled.
Jesus knew the end of Lazarus' story: he would rise again. All along Jesus had been explaining that Lazarus would be okay. But at the sight of a friend grieving, he broke down in tears. Perhaps part of it was seeing a grave marked "Lazarus". Maybe a little of it involved his disappointment that his friends didn't believe what he'd been saying. But the puddle around Mary's toes surely made his heart heavy and his eyes brim. The human experience of losing someone you love - and watching those you love hurt - was too much. Not even reason and understanding (the answers!) could help Jesus put up a stoic front.
Perhaps a real pastor could provide a better answer. Maybe there really is a scripture out there that puts it simply and says "this is why. Now you have peace." But I've only experienced this in the messy form, grief with tears and regret and pain and a Jesus that says, "I hate that this hurts so bad" and then stands there and cries with me. My hope is that in the coming days, that Jesus makes His presence known, that he weeps with us and for us.
That's all I have.

Do you want that in the can?

"No, I'll have it right here." (+5 Bonus points if you can name that movie quote).
So, I realized today at work that I have quite a predicament of social etiquette. It involves my frequent potty breaks and a need for refills in my water glass.
I try to be a good, productive worker bee. I get as much done as humanly possible while in the office. But my body has certain requirements. Such as a need for high doses of fluids, specifically water. And then, once that water has done its thing, it must be disposed of properly. So between the refills and the refuse, I must leave my seat.
Now, don't you worry your pretty little head. I'm ultra-efficient with my non-cube time. I take my empty glass for my trip to the WC. BUT, you know what that means. I take a cup in when I pee. Well, not into the stall. But into the room. I set it on the sinktop. But people see me go in and out of the potty with a plastic cup in my hand on a regular basis. Empty both times, mind you, but where else does such an event occur other than the doctor's office? Perhaps I'm just overly accustomed to such activity because it crossed my mind today and it caused much distress. I didn't know how to fix the problem. There's no shelf outside the bathroom. Set it on the floor outside the bathroom? I'm very limited on my options.
I could always make separate trips, but I'm pretty sure the IT guys I pass down my row would start using it as fodder for a drinking game or some sort of revenue-accruing gambling event. That's 4 trips down the row during one "break."
Short of digging a tunnel to the potty and installing a Culligan dispenser in my cube, I fear that I might just have to be "that girl." Well hydrated and with strong bladder muscles, sure. But still, that girl.


*Side note one: husband just informed me of his own cup considerations when he arrives at school. I concede that he wins the prize: he doesn't trust others enough to set it by the sink and the mechanics involved with his pee pee break and my own add a degree of technical difficulty. Apparently there is a balancing act happening to put the coffee cup on the piping of a urinal.
*Side note two: Seriously, does anyone know the opening quote? Hint: it takes place on an airplane. My sister and I used to howl over this one. I'm giggling every time I think it.

a ridiculous list of the absurdly mundane things that cause me stress and bring me joy

Seriously, I know: if these are the things that take up space in my brain, I'm doing pretty well.


1. Oh, my lovely, sweet, sweet baby girl... why won't you JUST GO TO SLEEP? Love, Mom. No less than 15 trips up the stairs to remove her from standing at the railing (I long ago gave up indicating that I might be impressed by this skill in hopes she'll quit), I think I know why I've only gained 10 pounds so far this pregnancy.
2. The 10 pounds is a bit misleading. My belly button continues to reach skyward and my belt is just 2 notches away from the tub under the bed.
3. Oh, the sweet and spicy goodness that is pepperoni rolls. I secretly hope our friends don't like them this weekend so I can eat more guilt free. I think I might buy a gallon or so of Padrone's ranch for some recreational dipping.
4. Husband is currently driving the cheapest car ever. So cheap that there's no center armrest and he was unable to tilt his seat back. The accord is finally getting a facelift bumper-fixing, but they ordered the wrong bumper so he's in a rental. Slightly not convenient, but manageable.
5. I finally bought 2 boxes of fruit snacks, the unhealthy kind full of HFCS. And they satisfy. The gummi worms in my purse? Totally not mine.
6. Husband and I finally purchased a game we had our eye on - Dominion. It's a strategy card game of fiefdoms and castles. Sort of. But it has definately passed the time the past few evenings with some enjoyment of the non-shiny screen variety.
7. Today is one of my few Y&R days so I get to catch up. Victor is turning into a bitter, bitter old man. Something's going to happen. And Diane is soon going to be doing both Victor AND Nicolas. Phyllis will  go off the deep end when all the men in her life keep "helping" Sharon (perhaps a real identity revealed?). And I'm going to agree with cousin RWB, I think Adam's going to pull a Michael Baldwin and switch over to the good-guy team with a slightly slick nature. This is me, looking for the best in everyone.
8. Today was another visit to the midwife (note from a midwife-visiting professional: schedule your appointment as early as possible in the AM. They don't have time to be running late yet). I didn't see my usual gal, Bonnie, but Deb was ultra-helpful in guiding me to a blood-thinning decision. We're going with the baby aspirin. I know, you've all been holding your breath in suspense.
9. We had a third successful pee-pee on the potty. Cheering and raisins richly abounded. I can only cross my fingers that we're on a roll.


And, that's about it. Lists are better in odd numbers, so I'm not going to hurt my brain too much on my day off.

more than a machine

When H began to stay awake through our church service, we started taking him back to the nursery. From the start it's never been his favorite place. However a few weeks each month one of the youth, Amber, volunteered in the nursery and typically brought her boyfriend to assist. This was perfect for our little "man's man", who seemed to gravitate toward the boyfriend. The kid was a good sport about it, holding or playing with H and even acting as if he enjoyed it.
One day I told Youth Director Mark that I wanted to show my support for Amber (as well as indulge in my love of HS girls basketball) by making it to one of her games. We decided on a date to go and Mark mentioned that the boyfriend played as well and was quite good. So we decided to hit one of the boys games as well. At the end of the conversation I asked Amber's boyfriend's name again, making a mental note to commit it to memory as it's probably bad form to ask the name of a person for a 5th time (this post is starting to take on the point of "learn a little more about the people who watch your children, even if it's for an hour on Sunday"). Mark told me his name was Aaron. 
So we arrive at the LB game, my dad in tow because he loves basketball and there was a kid on this state-ranked team who had committed to Ohio State. After getting there, dad asks, "what is the name of the kid who helps in your nursery?" To which I replied, "Aaron." Dad said, "you mean Aaron Craft?" I said, "uhhhh, he's number (whatever his number was in HS)." Yup, H's favorite big kid was the newest OSU recruit. And I had no idea.
This has caused me to have quite the seasonal obsession with OSU basketball this year. Of course, we also have our Upper Sandusky ties to Diebler, but that was more a situation of shared municipality and mutual friends than actual relationship, though I know him to be a good, relatively down-to-earth kid. I appreciated how well Aaron treated my kid and in my limited interactions with him, I find him to be a stellar person.
My obsession isn't necessarily the sort where I'm dressing up like a large pompom for the games; it's more of a mother-like possessive tendency that when I see their faces on big screens I feel protective of them. These are good kids out there, and I hear ESPN announcers offering commentary on their collective self-worth based upon percentages and defensive presence. Granted, this year they've been good percentages, but it still pains me nonetheless that these boys wear the weight of hundreds of thousands of fans to be winning machines. Makers of victory.
The way we view athletes and sports in our society troubles me. We idolize these characters and then toss them aside when they fall from the public graces. Do we really have to wonder why so many professional athletes suffer from the stigma of drug addiction, even if not partaking in the Any Given Sunday lifestyle? The money, the girls, the life... we set them high, high above reality and wonder why many come crashing down so hard.
I'm so excited for and proud of Aaron - and Jon - and the opportunity they have ahead of them on this team. It seems from so many avenues (including their current publicity, below) that they're enjoying a great ride. They've kept their perspective, which is what I'm really wishing for. I hope that they know that to many people, they're more than a means to victory or championship titles. To some little boys, they're heroes because they're willing to get down on the floor of a church and play trucks at 8am on a Sunday. The jersey is just decoration. 

from the belly of a

I've had a variety of pregnancy-induced thoughts lately. So much so that on my work "facebook" page the About Me section says, "yes, it does always seem like I'm pregnant." The belly has busted out of hiding (though I can still wear my big jeans, but it's a rotation of just a few pair). I drag my feet longer and longer each time before digging into the maternity tubs. And I forget that though the shock has worn off for me, some people are just hearing about the future addition, so it's getting tough to keep a straight face as they react to the news.


I realized just last night that my belly button has spent more time out than in over the course of the last 2.5 years. The second pregnancy it popped by the halfway point. This time around I'm not sure it even waited until the first appointment with the midwife. I'm going to make my future millions by creating and marketing Belly Button Tape to help obscure this tale-tell sign. I'll make it with cute decorations so that I can look at that instead of the innards of my belly-b while I take a bath.


This week marked the first appearance of the achy-aches in the back and hips that were present the past 2 rounds. I've been doing some yoga lately and I'm wondering if the extra movement is what triggers the flair ups (which is probably a sure sign I'm doing something wrong). Perhaps I SHOULD just park it on the leather chair with a jar of pickles.


This time, more than in the past, I battle middle-of-the-night insomnia. Last night I wrote a sermon (though no one has actually asked me to preach; however it was a very good sermon. I was funny and engaging and had a solid spiritual point). I've contemplated the hiring process for my current client at work. I considered the practices of men in the process of leaving their wives. You know, the norm. I have not yet awoken my husband to discuss the governmental treatment of Japanese-American citizens circa-WWII. His reaction last time served as a warning that perhaps this was not acceptable behavior.

And the JUNK food (which would trigger the addition of the previously mentioned yoga). Sour gummies, fruit snacks (that I pretend are sour gummies to be good to my teeth), anything tangy sweet - it makes my mouth water. I included the dried fruit snacks on the list this evening when husband had to make a run for dogfood, but he returned with nothing. So I devoured half a bag of sour green grapes. I could go for more, I'm not going to lie. If anyone out there lives in the vicinity of a Target and wants to ship me 874 packages of the Dried Fruit Twists by Archer Farms (strawberry mango, please), you'd probably get  public praise on a well-hidden blog. I was silly enough to think 2 bags would last me a while. In this case, "a while" meant 3 days.

I also have a new theory. With each added child, time goes much faster after they arrive, but much slower before they are born. I can't believe I'm not even to the half way point! Somebody had to have added 5 weeks to my first trimester.

So that's life at the moment. How fortunate am I that these are the biggest things weighing on my mind at the current moment? Yes, I'll take a sec and be grateful for that.

Dinner date with Debbie

As a present for graduating college, KLR was given her dream trip. She excitedly chose to visit Austria, as it was the site to The Sound of Music, her favorite movie (or musical. Or show. Or all of the above. I'm not sure, I actually have never seen it. I'm surprised she's still friends with me). And she chose for her mama to accompany her. Her bookshelf now bears pictures of her and her mother acting out favorite scenes as the main characters. Knowing how the story ended for her mother just a few short years later, I'm sure these memories hold an indescribable place in her memory.


But this is just the backdrop to the story.


KLR mentioned that every time they sat down to a meal, which nearly always included wine, her mother would take a picture of the platter before taking a bite. She wanted to savor the memory later. Not of landscape or of hotel rooms where they stayed, but of the gastronomic nature of the trip. I never met the woman, but I think I would secretly try to emulate these types of endeavors.


After moving to Upper, I only met Debbie through story. She was an art and TAG ("tall and gangly" was a favorite McCallisterism) teacher who had an appreciation for the obscure. She could look at a barn door and see a coffee table. She created stained glass projects in her basement. She brought turkeys to school in the back of obscenely small vehicles (a ACG favorite tale). And instead of seeing food as a means to satisfy the tummy, she knew it could satiate the soul.


I've never had much of an artistic eye. I'm notoriously utilitarian. A tree is a means to apples or annoying nuts in the yard to mow over or rake. Color is a method of describing "which one". So hearing that something like a sandwich can be captured on film in a way that evokes emotions and not just saliva baffles and intrigues me at the same time.


Lately there's been an uprising of semi-to-pseudo professional photographers. Many of them are very, very good (I'm FB friends with several). A few might just have nice cameras and great ambition, but they all have something I envy: an eye that sees the world with brighter color. With the right light and shade and angle, you see something beyond.


I can appreciate that people like Debbie - and those places where her presence continues to shine through, like KLR - can challenge me to look at things, even food, in new ways. It's not simply there to be consumed, but enjoyed - and in the case of photography, we can enjoy it over and over again. 

I walk through the garden alone...

I am in possession of a new book (*Note: it is not the book I ordered from Barnes & Noble. That one still has not arrived. The website is too difficult for me to figure out how to turn in the issue to customer service. I'm appalled by B&N. The rest of this gift card will be used after browsing the store). Second Nature is by Michael Pollen, a favorite of mine, and I'm all kinds of excited to be peering into the gardening season. So, in my pre-read, I want to list some of my future garden goals for the year. Now, remember, this kid is due to arrive anywhere between July 2-14. So, though my goals remain high, I believe there should be some grace in any failures I might encounter. I'm not amish, after all.


In the garden:
Tomatoes - roma and a beefysteak. Lots 'o them, so we can make salsa (by we, I mean husband), pizza sauce and a generic tomato sauce as a base for soups.
Onions - Lots 'o them. Because we rarely cook a meal without an onion
Green beans - these should be BUSH beans, not POLE beans. Lesson learned last year
Peas.
Squash- perhaps a butternut or spaghetti
Eggplant - 1 plant would suffice
Green peppers - 4 or 5 plants
Hot pepper - last year we had a serrano and a poblano. But that's really the salsa maker's department
Garlic - already in the ground! (How proud of me Dan W. will be?!)
Cucumbers - I'd like one plant. That's all. I don't love them, but husband loves a good cool cucumber "salad"
Zucchini - one plant. These buggers seem to multiply in their sleep. It used to be that you had to lock your car in the summer or someone would fill the back seat with them, but a friend looked for zuccs this summer past and couldn't find any! So perhaps I should contribute. For bread and fried goodness.
Sweet potatoes - I know nothing about growing these, but they make the best baby food, so I'd like to stock up.
Lettuce
Spinach


I'm hoping that this book fills me in on some strategy to save space, placement for success and a better understanding of when to put what in the ground and to anticipate some reward. If I can be strategic about what goes in after the lettuce is done for the summer, I'd like to plan.


And we can't forget the herbs:
Oregano (I think this will come back from last year)
Basil (we were very successful with this last year)
Chives
Parsley
Rosemary
I need to do further research into what makes a good pizza sauce.

Nothing gets you through a January night like thinking about May!

what I want my daugher to know about relationships with men

The right guy at the wrong time is still the wrong guy.
You need to be "me" before you can be "we".
You become like the people you are around the most; ask, "do I want to become more like him?"
If he loves you, he'll never say "If you love me..."
People can change. Not all of them do.
Never use sex as a weapon or a tool.
It's better to be alone and content than with someone and miserable.
If you have to lie to your family and friends about him, he's probably not a great catch.
It's never okay to hit.
There's NOTHING wrong with you.
Sometimes, "like the other girls" shouldn't be the goal.
Don't look at his resume, look at his heart. Just because he meets "minimum qualifications" or "seems perfect for you" doesn't mean you have to date him.
Yes, sometimes "good guys" are boring. And keeping up with a rebel can be exhausting.
Most divorces result from arguments about money and sex. Watch carefully how he talks about, uses or values these things.
There's a difference between "perfect" and "healthy".
Learn how to fight fair.
Stand up for yourself. And learn to say "I'm sorry."
If he doesn't encourage (which can include challenging) your faith, you'll probably end up bored or frustrated.


*This list is a work in progress. And yes, I will probably teach them to my son, as well.

funny things H has done in the past 24 hours

Picked up his childrens bible, saw a picture of Noah and pointed out "Santa!"
Randomly started doing yoga poses (down dog, mountain) like mommy (after mommy finished, not alongside)
When saying our prayers, he rearranged Buckeye's hands so that they were properly folded for the activity
Pooped in the bathtub. Then reacted by screaming and flailing about until husband could remove him from the situation
Then he told mommy (in toddler tongue, with waggling arms) how to get the TP from on top of the toilet, pick up the poo and put it in the toilet. NOW.
Mommy: "Where does poo poo go?" H: "In the POTTY!"
Heard Kyle crying in the nursery. Turned and saw Josh crying in the nursery. So he started crying with them. He's such a sympathizer.
When asked if he wanted toast for breakfast he sang "yeah! toast!" (just like the funny guys on WNCI)

He's hilarious. Gets it from his mother. Except for the pooping thing.

Dinner date with Rebecca

One household of my cousins grew up with limited menu options as each child had some sort of food allergy: one with seafood, one with poultry (yes, that includes chicken) and one with a milk intolerance. As a result, my poor Aunt was pretty much limited to finding creative ways to serve beef and pork on a rotating basis. Honestly, I can't even imagine my life without chicken in the rotation. But this set of circumstances rendered the youngest child able to say, "there ain't a part of the pig I don't love."


Whether wrapping something in bacon or enjoying a good hot ham & cheese (and apple! she introduced me to it- try it!) sandwich, Rebecca loves herself some pig. I'm curious if, like the Native Americans and a buffalo, she were to be a pig farmer on the plantation if she'd find a way to consume the whole animal in a tasty fashion.


Rebecca's inclusiveness doesn't find its limits when it comes to meat consumption. She has a knack for making sure everyone is involved and participatory. In our ever-growing family, there can be a tendency to assume that all parties have been informed of familial news; Rebecca can be counted on to be the one to follow up. Or if you're coming into town on a random weekday, she'll gather the troops so we can eat a quick lunch. Like most families, some individuals stay closer to the center of connectedness than others; Rebecca is always the one to know how those others are doing.

But it's more than simply keeping people informed, though she'd make a superb Communications Director someplace. Rebecca keeps the lines open because she really values what is going on in the lives of the people she loves. Even if it's something that she wouldn't necessarily do (though I've come to decide that there's very little Rebecca won't do at least once), she still wants to know how things fair in your life. She's a listener, a person who wants to hear you when you're speaking.  She takes the good with the bad and enjoys the whole story.

Rebecca values the whole as much the part. There ain't a part of you she don't love.

away they grow

Time for another quick update on the kiddos. Because I'm a failure at baby books, this is where I've been recording the events of the family, specifically the milestones and makings of the children. So even if you're not interested, I need it logged somewhere.


H Boy

• Though with a somewhat limited vocab, he's becoming quite conversational. Lots of talk about what we're doing, what he sees, what he wants to be doing, or what he wants YOU to be doing. As in, "mommy! play!" 
• Jump around, jump around! This boy jumps up, jumps up and falls gets down. Most recently daddy has taught him how to leap from footstool to couch or dad. He finds it hilarious.
• The christmas gift of a kitchen proved successful. He serves tea with the best of them. 
• What is it with child-sized seats that kids love? He also got a table and chairs set from Grandma Marj and he loves to sit there to eat or play. 
• Last week we had friends over for dinner who's son Kyle is close in age. The boys wrecked havoc in the basement while we enjoyed a semi-chaos free dinner. Win win. Win. 
• We have a new sitter. You know she's great when it only takes about 10 minutes before he just says "bye bye mommy!" and continues on with the playing. No, no... my heart didn't break. 
• His addiction to the bink seems to be progressing to the point of obsession. I continue to pretend it'll be fine and disappear on its own. I'll let you know how that works out for me. 
• We've been wearing big boy undies on a semi-regular basis, when we're home. We'll drink a good cup of milk, wait, then sit on the potty to read 5 books and sing 3 songs, only for him to be "all done" and then 30 seconds later peeing on the floor. Boy, I love parenting. It makes you feel so... effective.
• H can name yellow and pink. I think he recognizes the other colors, but yellow and pink are the answers to "what color is that?"

Miss M

• MOBILE is the key word of the month. She's got the crawling thing down and is getting quicker. Now she does a army crawl hybrid/real crawl, and then when she gets to her destination, she automatically goes to her feet in a down dog position. She'd like to just stand up but she's still a bit topheavy and doesn't quite know how. I give her 2 months. 
• She loves standing and playing and has climbed a stair or two in her time. Up she goes. All. the. time. 
• Like her brother, she's inherited the good eating genes. If her mommy would get it together and offer her a bigger variety, I think she'd really take off and enjoy a lot of foods. We just need to get them introduced. 
• On that note, she was able to feed herself some blueberries. Not so much a pincer grasp as a poke with her index finger, like a single prong fork. But whatever works. 
• M has won the super sleeper award as of late, frequently going the 7-7 distance without requiring that we enter her room. Her brother, on the other hand.... ugh. 
• Clap, clap, clap your hands! she says. She loves a good clap. Brother loves to get her to do it. 

Bathtime continues to be a highlight for 3 of the 4 people in the house (though I take my bath separate from the kids).  It's amazing to see what 2 inches of water will do to a short-tempered kid. And it gives me a chance to catch up on my reading.

So that's the update, in short.

if you do or don't

Thanks to an unknown parental source, I have inherited a sub-par blood clotting gene. My sister tends to blame all physical maladies on my mother, and seeing how her mother had a blood clot not long ago we might have just heard someone call Bingo. But no matter the source of the fault, I am heterogeneous factor V (that's five for those smart 'ns in the world who use letters rather than numbers) leiden.


Whilest slow to do many things, it seems I'm speedy to clot.


For the average, healthy 30ish-year-old, this does not pose much risk nor even really require medical attention. But for the gal growing another human, it seems we must be cautious (did you know precautious is not a word? Per google spellcheck, it seems you can be cautious, inferring a timeline of pre-ness; you can also take precautions. But one is not precautious. Just cautious. Enough grammar). While a clot can be quite pesky in the leg or butt (not that anyone I know had a clot in her butt...), it's downright worrisome when in the placenta or any of the feeding and nourishing mechanisms of the womb. So cautious we become.


Which leads me to treatment options, per my hemotologist (becase, as JE says, "every 30 year old should have one."): 1) Daily injections of Lovenox. Yes, I said inject. As in, sharp, pointy object becoming embedded in my flesh. 2) Baby asprin 3) Cross our fingers that this pregnancy is like the last 2 and we have no problems. Because I've done this twice and the only difference this time is that we actually know I am leiden (haha!) with an abornmality, as opposed to most people's strong inclination to guess it is such the case.

The doctor left the final decision to me. Well, this is always the case, but he actually vocalized it. The Lovenox is the "better safe than sorry" route and an easy pick for someone who loves the world of medicine. But for someone like me who's become a bit skeptical and wary of what seems to be a trend toward over-treating for the sake of preventing lawsuits (not just because it's the best course of action), it's a bit tougher to decide.

In my brief consultation with Dr. Google, I read that it's becoming more known that a daily dose of cod liver oil and a few of the B Vitamins also shows to thin the blood to a preventative level. But that's not what the medical literature, the mainstream, points toward. And though I love a good home remedy, I have trouble anticipating similar results without some sort of proof.

But here's the breakdown: who's going to pay to study cod liver oil? Who will make money off that? Certainly not the pharma groups. They'd LOSE  money if that came out (right now it seems that the options for this kind of thinner are few and I'm sure Lovenox has quite the corner market). And who pays, at least in part, for a majority of the medical studies on these products? Well, the drug companies. They prove it works and then they market it like crazy, readily providing the studies to the doctors so the prescribers can take confidence in the anticipated results.

Our mainstream medical system operates off economics. My Intro to News Writing professor always said, "follow the money trail." Someone, somewhere makes money off of it or it's probably not a readily-available option. The suppliers of our drugs and medical equipment operate off of a supply-and-demand scale, like the rest of the American world. (That is, until it can be made into a generic). No one markets what is readily available and cheap.

So what now? Taking the low-risk chance, even if over-medicating, for the sake that "something could happen"? Or do nothing, returning to a state of "ignorance is bliss"? One shouldn't make decisions based solely on fear, but also should avoid getting sand in her ears when trying to bury her head in the ground.

I suppose I just need to be grateful for 2 major things: that I have medical options and treatment readily available AND that my options lack the fear and side effects, in comparison to the treatment of other patients I saw today, as the hemotologist is also an oncologist. That can certainly put it all in perspective.

Defense is the best offense

Random confessional for the day: both of the words "defense" and "offense" require me to mentally do a high school cheer before I'm able to spell them correctly. I don't do the motions, just the words. Well, in this case, syllables, because the cheers previously mentioned were just a spelling of the word, followed by "let's go de/offense!" with an off-beat clap. But enough about me and my shortcomings in the world of spelling.


I'm reading a new old book. It's new to me, thanks to the 50% off sale at Stately Raven, but come to find out, it's 10 years old. In the sociology research world, I think that's a qualifier that the book should've been on a 30% discount prior to the going-out-of-business sale. Which, if I may take the liberty, I'd like to tell the SR is the reason they're going out of business. Just some personal opinion commentary. Enjoy it for free, someday ESPN might want me.


So, the book. The Overspent American. The author should've bought a lottery ticket when she wrote it as she nailed it on the head. It's about the progressive spending and the socio-cultural influences our our economic behavior. I know, I know, why can't I just enjoy some trashy romance novel like the normal girls do?


But here's what I can offer society, other than just the 10 minutes back they've spent reading this post: we need to a bit of a defensive educational attack in the world of econ. Like a full-court, trapping press.  Allow me to expand.


Marketing is an optional course offered by many high schools. I know this because my husband is licensed to teach it. It focuses on how to brand and market a product so to get people to buy it. If one were to want to invent something, or go into the world of publicity and advertising, this would be a helpful starting ground. Or perhaps help you change your mind. I could come up with several other benefits a high school student might gain from the course: how to get elected class president, how to convince the school that fried cheese is not an acceptable main course for the cafeteria lunch, or as a way to successfully sell black market school spirit t-shirts that say "We Will Ram Ewe." Just to start.


But what if we were to use a marketing curriculum to help teenagers defend themselves from campaigns that, in their limited rational times of thinking, they realize they need not be a part of? What if we helped students to learn how others are preying upon their fears of failure, their insecurity when it comes to their appearance and their aptitude for success? What if we helped them become indignant about the fact that other people are getting rich off of their lack of critical thinking and blindly believing everything they hear and see about what is right, cool and necessary for a happy, successful life?


We can teach kids to be part of the problem, or part of the solution. Perhaps I should talk to a business education teacher about this...

All roads lead to home

Growing up, my dad would get quite frustrated when driving with my Grandpa Bill. As they were navigating the interweaving country roads, Dad would ask, "which way?" and Grandpa would respond "either way can get you there." Dad felt this was not a helpful response as, in his Tom-nature, it wasn't most efficient. Now that I'm a parent, I wonder if Grandpa was on to something.

Grandpa didn't just know and teach the Mapquest turn-by-turn, but he laid out the entire map. Grandpa could just teach dad that the way to X is a left, a right and a left. But what if Dad needed to go someplace near X? Those directions weren't completely helpful. Or what if the right-turn road was closed? How do you navigate construction?

Instead, Grandpa introduced his kids to the entire landscape. And I'm pretty sure there was some historical commentary along the way (such as, "over there is where your brother put the tractor in the ditch"). This way, when one would get lost or veer in a different direction, they would know a route that would ultimately lead them home.

I've done more than my fair share of calling Dad to get directions. There was the time that Sister & I missed the exit to 31 when coming home from Columbus. Or the time that JJ and I drove aimlessly through middle-of-nowhere-Champaign-county. And thankfully my dad willingly provides his GPS-like skills, sometimes within the context of a good chuckle. I'm grateful that he's been exposed to more of the terrain and can offer direction for a the route home.

I hope that, as a parent, I show my kids the map and take them on long country drives. Not only is it good quality time, but I'll have hope that they'll learn that all roads can get you home. You just have to know where home is located and be willing to turn around once in a while.

trying out a new question

It always excites me to a) chat with people in a coffee shop b) drink candy coffee c) spend time with youngins (aka high school and college students). Thus, this morning served as time well spent. And I love that the nature of such time always leads me to think more reflectively; the "teacher" always ends up the student.


On the surface, you'd think that Her issues were simply the classic struggles of a high school girl and dating. Sure, those struggles are there. But beyond the first line of discussion, you find that she wrestles with questions about what she wants from life, how to keep an honest relationship with her parents and what it is she's looking for in deep relationships with others. All very, very good questions.


It made me (as previously mentioned) reflect upon the role of parenting. I started to wonder: what if my job is not to get my kids to answer or act in the right way, but to ask the right questions? What if, over the course of time, my kids desire something other than what I had planned for them (because we all know I'm a planner). Wouldn't my time be better spent helping them ask questions that will lead them to fulfilling and God-glorifying paths?


Rather than teaching kids "this person is not a good influence on you", could I teach my kids to ask "what are you looking for in life? how do the people you spend time with bring that out?" Rather than teaching "a college degree is the way to be" could I ask "what do you want from life and what resources do you need and steps can you take to get there?"


This is still hypothetical. There certainly must be holes in my theory. Especially at the toddler level. I suspect the methods and approaches for teaching children will change and evolve as they do, but I think guiding principles and philosophies will stay the same. What is my goal and my job as a parent, and how can I best live it out?


I know, it's pretty deep for noon on a Saturday.

beauty

"Plato formulated what he named the "universals" as the True, The Good and the Beautiful. He held that if we are to live a whole and mature life, the three had to work together harmoniously in us. The Amercian church has deleted Beauty from that triad. We are vigorous in contending for the True, thinking rightly about God. We are energetic in insisting on the Good, behaving rightly before God. But Beauty, the forms by which the True and the Good take shape in human life, we pretty much ignore. We delegate Beauty to flower arrangers and interior decorators. Plato, and many of our wisest teachers who have followed him, insisted that all three - Truth, Goodness, Beauty - are organically connected. Without Beauty, Truth and Goodness have no container, no form, no way of coming to expression in human life. Truth divorced from Beauty becomes abstract and bloodless. Goodness divorced from Beauty becomes loveless and graceless."
(-Eugene Peterson, In Practicing Resurrection, page 7)


I think this is why I love story. Truth and Good come to life and play out before my eyes. Perhaps also why I really dig the incarnation concept. Some see it in a still frame, others hear in notes and harmony and rhythm. I experience it in plot and characters.


I'm curious of the many containers of Truth & Goodness that others experience...

Dinner date with Patty B

For a bulk of my 20s I went meatless. Not necessarily "vegetarian" as I still enjoyed birds of the air and fish of the sea. I differentiated between species created on the 5th day vs. species made on the 6th. My objections were sheer preference. I just didn't enjoy meat. I found it quite simple to navigate around it, save for the occasional church potluck, so I always went for the bird.
During that same period of my life I was introduced to Patty B by way of mutual vocation. She avidly avoided the meat, even in a "who-double-dipped-from-the-taco-meat-into-the-sour-cream?" kind of way. But she didn't simply hold a distaste for the product, she abhorred the process.
Hailing from the cornfields of Iowa, at some point in her life Patty came to feel strongly that the food being produced might better serve us by feeding humans rather than cows, but our over-meated society, with its operations based on supply-and-demand, tilted the scales otherwise. Patty's plate preferences were about much more than cut and doneness... they were about how our decisions affected the greater good.
In my many years sharing ministry time with Patty, I learned so much. She practiced a kind of patience that I could only dream of when it came to jr. high kids. But she could savor the humor that came with it and toss in a bit of sarcasm or irony when needed. And she was influential in my transition to understanding that salvation, while a personal decision, is also a corporate gift. All of creation matters to God.
Patty signed her emails "peace, Patty B." And not just in a jiving-hippie kind of way, though the girl does play the oboe, has her nose pierced and regularly practices yoga, so she holds that license. But when I received an email from Patty signed "peace", I was reminded of something of the inner and the outer. Shalom... making things right. I was reminded that peace was a concept of personal and corporate responsibility, and by knowing Patty, I was exposed to what that might look like.
From her participation with the abstinence-ed work to talking about faith and life and what it means to follow God, Patty lives out loud the idea that there's something beyond the finished product. How we arrive matters. If you were to cross-stitch Patty B into a wall hanging, perhaps it would say, "joy is the journey and not a destination."

it's coming, it's coming

So I'd like to make good on my aspirations to add a variety of focus to this "space". I've got one post written, only 51 more to go. Actually, I don't have 51 more leads, so we'll see how this progresses.


Over time my conviction has grown that what and how we eat serves as a reflection of our life at large. A majority of people in our culture eat "fast food" in the car and on the run. Family dinner is on the decline. And I believe it to have deep implications for our society and our social nature in general. We eat food devoid of nutrition as a filler in the same way we lead lives devoid of relationships that offer sustenance, and instead fill up on whatever snacks we find along the way, be it destructive habits, addictions (including workaholism, perfectionism and other socially acceptable -isms) and patterns of behavior. I'm not saying that people that eat healthier are automatically happier; I am say that how we come to the table and what we find there waiting might be a deeper reflection into our hearts.


So in an effort to illustrate this conviction, I'd like to draw upon some of the food-inspired life lessons that have emerged in my meager 30 years of existence. Realistically, the grand majority of them came about in the the last decade.

Not only do my stories focus on the food, but the people that I associate with them. Because it's not about the consumption of food-like matter, but rather the sharing of a meal. Some of the people may opt to remain a bit more obscure (and if you figure out who they are, then lucky you for knowing them as well! Call them for a dinner date!). Maybe that's what I'll call the series... Dinner Date. Because everything in my life needs a good title or theme, and I have yet to be able to come up with an acceptable slogan for this series.

So, that's the hope. Stay tuned.

roots

After hubby and I returned from a mini-date night (quick movie, we saw Little Fockers. I thoroughly enjoyed.), we settled into the basement and the sitter had left Undercover Boss on the tv. I've never watched before, but this one was about the Norwegian Cruise Line CEO doing a lot of shipwork. I've been on my share of cruises (though NCL effectively, but not efficiently, bumped me out of my recent free one), a few with NCL, so I made a point to not change the channel. It was a big night for NCL - they also left me a voicemail and sent me an email.
It was the second-best choice of the night. The first best was to actually GO to the movies.
I loved the show. No doubt, the CEO had effective pre-coaching on how to spin this for good publicity, as it ended him praising his staff and crew teams and throwing a bit of money into making their time at sea less miserable as they spend it away from their families doing back-breaking labor. So I'm not convinced I was catching sheer, honest emotion, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.
Hands down the best part for me was watching him lift pieces of ice that weighed hundreds of pounds to put together an ice rink on the top of a ship sailing in the middle of the Caribbean. Because when I go to places with lots of sun and sand and fruity drinks, I think, "but if I were just on the ice....". And after such efforts, no one came to skate. Crazy that.
CEO realized that the efforts were futile and he experienced what the team felt on a regular basis. He was no different than the gal next to him as they both felt the exhaustion of wasted efforts, the result of a decision made by someone who has clearly never worked the job.
I love what the show brings. It reminds us that every decision we make does have effects on others - how they spend their time and energy and how they feel valued. It also serves our memories good to realize that none of us are all that different. If it hurts my back, it hurts yours.
I have high hopes that CEO man returns to the office with a respect for his employees that matches or doubles that which he gives to his Suit & Tie Types that filter through his office on a regular basis.