Over the years the tone of inquiry around Christmas gifting has certainly changed:

Hello LightLady,

This past spring I gathered the materials to build an item out of LightBoy’s “Back Yard Ballistics” Book. I thought I would put it together and send it down as our gift to him. However after thinking about it, I thought I would check with you and LightHusband first. It is a potato gun, and will shoot a potato a considerable distance. Shall I proceed with the weaponry or not?

LightUncle the Younger

I informed my brother that he was welcome to proceed with the weaponry. Christmas day will indeed be interesting here at the LightHouse!

In a shocking reversal of past Christmas tree purchasing fiascos, the LightFamily descended upon the Christmas tree stand of choice, found a tree, agreed upon said tree, and purchased it … all within ten minutes. I nearly fainted.

The process usually involves close inspection of every tree on the lot.

Twice.

Then we settle on a tree.  There is usually some “discussion” involved.  Some compromise.  More talk about where the tree will be located in the house.  Derisive commentary about various trees and their likeness to the tree on Charlie Brown many years ago.  Then commentary about the abilities of certain adults to select trees based upon their childhood experiences.  By this time the LightChildren have gotten in on the act and all are laughing and making fun of one another and the various trees that are being championed.  We do tend to make fools of ourselves at the tree lot.  Somehow the angel never sits quite right on top, no matter how hard we try.  But that always seems to be part of the charm.

Part of the problem is that all of the trees are too pretty for me.  I’ve finally come to accept that.  I’ve even begun to embrace it.  While LightHusband and Children are looking for beautiful, I’m looking for crumbly.  While they are looking for straight, I’m looking for crooked.  They search out full, I’m fond of sparse.  I’m still searching for the Christmas trees of my youth.

My brothers and I used to tromp out in our woods … all 27 acres of them … and find a tree.  We’d walk around craning our necks to see the tops of 30 foot pines and try to find the tree with the best top six or so feet … from the ground.  I don’t remember a time when we were successful.  The trees from my youth looked like coat hangers with needles.  I’m pretty sure that the Charlie Brown tree was fuller than our trees.

I loved those trees.  The trees we get now are beautiful.  But it always feels as though we are cheating somehow.  There’s no work involved.  It’s much too easy.  Clean.  Tidy.  Low.  The trees are too pretty and when we get them home, the branches are too dense to decorate.

Tonight though, I think we found one just right.  It’s not too straight.  Not too dense.  Not too beautiful.  We’ll have to wait til tomorrow to get it into the house to see.

Today was supposed to be a quiet day. We didn’t have any plans. Well … a LightGirl had a hockey game in the afternoon. But that was really it.

Then a friend called. He made arrangements for LightBoy to fulfill a dream. And off went LightHusband and LightBoy to learn how to handle firearms. I cringed. It is counter-intuitive. But I think weapons are too serious to ignore. He passed the safety test with flying colors. Then he scored really well in his marksmanship as well. He floated home. And used many words to tell me about his adventures. He also brought treasure with him … shell casings to be sorted and categorized. Many, many, many times over.

I was home with FlamingEwe baking cookies for a cookie exchange and making decorations for our guild holiday extravaganza. LightHusband and Boy arrived home in time for lunch. Then he was off again with LightGirl and a couple of the BlazingLambs for the hockey game, while the cook baking and Christmas crafting continued apace.

Then the phone rang and one proud papa’s voice rang out, “She scored her first GOAL!!!” She scooped the puck out of the back corner, carried it around to the net and dropped it in around behind the goalie’s back.

Here she is, rejoicing in the moment with her team mates!!

That’s my girl!!

Both LightChildren floated off to bed, 3 feet off the ground, this evening. It was a good day of firsts. It was a little bittersweet for this mom. After all the other firsts I witnessed, these firsts they accomplished with others. And that was first in and of itself. This too is another good step.

As most of you know, I read a number of other blogs out in the ‘sphere. I read a post last night that had me thinking. I was still ruminating on it this morning. I began to write a comment. But when the comment ran to paragraphs, I realized I needed to keep the words in my own space! Will Sampson was writing about Wonderbread and the BreadofLife. He wrote about the difference between what our culture offers the poor and what the Body of Christ offers the poor. It’s very good and much of what I’ve written here is in response to that.

Here is an interesting (perhaps) data point on poverty. When LightGirl was quite small and LightBoy was born, I received WIC food coupons and support. WIC stands for Women, Infants and Children. It’s support for woment with small chilren and infants (obviously) in order to give children a healthy start in life. It’s based on the idea that good nutrition and a healthy home life can begin to break the cycle of poverty.

So, the food coupons from WIC are strictly monitored. If you look on your grocery store shelves you’ll see small icons in the cereal, dairy, legume and other sections that call attention to the WIC approved foods. The guidelines are pretty strict. Real cheese. Real tuna. Real peanutbutter.

I was recieving the coupons because we were trying to “make it” on LightHusband’s Army enlisted salary in metro DC. I still remember the relief I felt when I found I “had” to get real food with those coupons. My counselor was relieved because she didn’t have to argue with me. I also remember seeing other women in the store trying to argue their way out of getting the real food with the cashiers and the store managers. I’m always sad when I see this. They think they are getting more for their money, but in the end they are selling their futures for the present.

At the time, we lived in a neighborhood filled with people of like incomes. We all shopped at the same stores and were just barely scraping by on similar amounts of money each month. There was a group of women who would sit out on the front step in the afternoons and evenings to watch some of our children play and talk and provide support for each other. One of the men dubbed us the “Yentas.” I participated in that group and yet I was as alien to that group as if I’d come from Mars. I was loved and I loved them back, but they never quite understood me. And, try as I might, I never quite understood them. I’ve maintained at least one relationship since we moved.

Here were some of the things they could not understand. That it really was worth it to make real oatmeal for my kids. That it was about more than saving a few pennies on the oatmeal. That it’s worth it to make real cookies instead of buying “Little Debbies,” or Hostess … even when they’re on sale. The real cookies cost less and they really are better for you. OR … and this dumfounded most of them. Perhaps it was okay to not have cookies at all. Primarily, what I was trying to instill in my children was the idea that some things are worth waiting for. And I had to begin with food.

It’s suddenly hitting me that on a number of different levels, our cultural inability to manifest delayed gratification is responsible for obesity. This is a harsh commentary, but we can no more afford to support our population now than we could 100 years ago. We have merely created the means to make prettier food. Is it really healthier to hand out Wonderbread and pasteurized-processed-cheese-product than gruel?

Today is World AIDS Day 2006. No … that’s not a celebration. No, it’s not a holiday. It’s meant to call attention to the pandemic we’re living in.

Almost 40,000,000 people worldwide have HIV or full-blown AIDS. More than 2,000,000 of these are children under the age of 15. They get it from their mothers. That is, they are born with it. Did you hear me??!! BORN with it. They are born with a death sentence. In some manner I suppose we all are. But in this instance it is somewhat different. These children are born with a horrible illness which carries a stigma and they will never be healthy, then … they will die. They will also likely spend a significant time as orphans. This … because their mothers are caught in the web of a culture which uses, abuses and then tosses them in the trash heap.

There’s not much we can do to change the culture. There’s not a whole lot we can do to stop people from having sex. But here’s what you can do.

I bet you have $10. Almost everyone has $10. Especially at this time of year. So, take $10 and donate it towards anti-virals to be sent to the moms in Africa. At the very least, we can help the moms. That’s the very least we can do. Help the mothers stay with their children. Help the children grow up. Learn to live. Make a donation for life. If you really are pro-life, here’s a way to make a stand. This is part of the consistent life ethic. Being about life … rather than death.

We must no longer condemn these innocents to death. Rather we must continue the mission … set the captives free, restore sight to the blind, release the oppressed. Look at at all the good stuff $10 can do!

It’s not often I take time out to actually make a list. I don’t do it often enough. So here (in no particular order) are some of the things I’m thankful for this November 23.

-For being sick … it’s given me a chance to sit still and reflect more deeply on some things that I needed to. Even though my brain is fairly clogged I’ve managed to do that.

– For coffee … I’m always thankful for coffee. I love coffee. Regular, with cream, no sugar. Iced in the summer. I especially love Fair Trade coffee from Green Mountain Coffee Roasters made in a french press. I’m grateful to the Incans or the Mayans who first looked at the beans hundreds of years ago and saw potential there.

-For my parents … they both grounded me and gave me wings. Most importantly they taught me how to learn and what was important to learn. How to ask questions. How to be curious about the world around me and within me.

-For my children … they continue to ground me and give me wings. They help me to continue to be curious and love to learn.

-For my quilting sisters in my quilt guild … they consistently build and encourage the spirits of all who are there.

-For my faith community who allow me to explore rabbit holes of theology with them and they come along happily.  Sometimes they find new rabbit holes of their own.  Who pour out grace and mercy in abundant supply and remind me that Jesus isn’t just one person anymore and that’s a good thing.

-For Smaug (the dragonification of my panic disorder and depression) he’s helping me to learn new and healthier manners of living in the world.

-For Fair Trade and other shopping opportunities that allow me to use my money in a way that benefits real people who really need it.  It feels like a two for one deal.

-For my friends who share their lives with me and I get to share with them.  Who share their Thanksgiving dinners at the last minute when we’re sick and we’ve shared with them under similar circumstances.

-For all of our siblings … and their spouses … they make us laugh and help stabilize our keel.  There is something about being with your siblings that cannot compare to anything else.

-For good beer … need I say more?

-For beautiful fabric and friends to oogle it and plan for it’s consumption with.

Yea … my cup runneth over ….

About a month, or maybe more, ago I got me a personalized Google account. It didn’t change much about my life. I know I now have access to g-mail and a whole bunch of fantastic other things that I can wait to find out about. One thing that I have taken advantage of is that I have a personalized Google home page in my browser window. This has also not changed much in my life. Except that I now occassionally read a news item or two that catches my eye.

This article on duct tape caught my eye yesterday. It’s a fairly shocking story about a woman who has been charged with child abuse. Apparently she left her two small children at home alone while she went to work. In order to keep them safe, she duct taped them together and perhaps to some large piece of furniture (?). The article says that she was serving in the Navy at the time. There isn’t much information in the article.

I don’t know much, if anything, about the woman in the article.  But her story got me thinking.  I wonder what pushed her to the point of thinking that leaving children duct-taped in a room was a feasible alternative?  Surely she was under some sort of pressure.  That was not rational.

Unless you’ve been living in a cave for the past month, you’re aware that we’re in the midst of a hotly contested mid-term political campaign.  I’ve heard many people say that the “life” (i.e. abortion) issue is a litmus test for them.  I have to wonder tho.  If we force women to have their babies, what is our responsibility for helping to care for the children?  If Ms. Vincent is convicted and spends time in prison, who will care for her children then?  Indeed, who is caring for them now?  Does she continue to have custody of them?  I wonder all of this as I watch an acquaintance who is homeless with two children.  She is working; a supervisor at a department store.  She is the process of getting Section 8 housing approval.  At the moment, if she has to work while her children are not in school she has some built in help with her children.  But I’m wondering what is going to happen when she is living on her own in her house.  How is she going to arrange/afford childcare on weekends when she has to work?  She can’t afford to live on her own and support her children without this job, but she can’t afford to have the job because of the childcare considerations.  She is caught in a terrible catch-22.  She is not alone.  There are millions of women in her situation or a situation with similar circumstances.  We require these women to work, but the only jobs available are those which require them to work when their children need expensive care.  So what are they to do?  What is a pro-life position in this situation?  I have to wonder …

We’re in Raleigh this weekend.  LightGirl has a couple of hockey games down here.  We spent Friday night with LightHusband’s brother and his family.

The first hockey game was Saturday night.  It was in an old rink that had wooden seats and a low ceiling.  This was simultaneously delightful and disturbing.  The wooden seats were wonderful.  If you’ve ever been to an ice rink and sat on the metal bleachers … well … just imagine how much more comfortable wood might be in an environment devoted to keeping a large sheet of ice frozen.  The low ceiling did two things.  Well … perhaps three.  It made for fantastic lighting for LightHusband’s photography!  It kept the cold air near to the ice.  It kept the cold air near to the spectators.  Ahhh … it’s that last that was discomfiting.

Due to a series of strange events, CoachWonderWoman could not be with her team this weekend.  She is having a much deserved weekend with her husband.  So the girls are being lead by the very capable coach of the U19 team.  I met him briefly before the game last night.  He seems very nice and has the girls’ best interests at heart.  He also seemed to be coaching with the same philosophy that CoachWonderWoman has.  They did well.  But it was obvious that something was awry.  They weren’t quite playing as a team.  They weren’t looking for each other in the manner that they often do.

It struck me as I sat in the stands.  Most of the other teams we face have male coaches.  Their coach is a woman.  They know how to sort out her voice from all the other voices easily.  It comes naturally.  And, they are used to her voice calling to them.  They practice with the U19 team and usually they filter CoachU19’s voice out and Coach WonderWoman’s in.  Their norm is to NOT listen to him.  Not because his advice is bad, wrong or misleading, but because normally it’s not meant for them.  Now, in the heat of a game they were having to re-filter which voice to listen to.

Later on, I thought more about that.  I thought about how that analogy effects all of us.  How do we filter the voices we listen to?  Do we know when to change the filter?  How do we know when to re-filter in the heat of a moment?  What voices are we listening to?  Do they have our best interests at heart?  More importantly (for those of us who believe in God) how do we filter out the loud voices to hear His still small voice?  Do we recognize it when we hear it?  Or have we changed coaches so often we no longer know who or what we’re listening to?

And if I were more skilled with this rattin’ frattin’ blog I’d know how to change the color of my title and the fonts in the post and be all cool and all of that. But, ummm … I’m not up to speed yet. So like my AwakeFriend (who is colorblind) you’ll have to imagine the colors.

Have you heard of the Product (RED) Campaign? I’m having problems with it. When I first heard of it, I thought, “Brilliant!” Then, I thought, “Gross over-commercialism at it’s finest … blech.” Then my brainiac pendulum swung back and I thought, “You know … not everyone can be as puritanical and as philanthropic as you are. Most people need an extra boost.” See me … I want the swords beaten into plowshares … like NOW! I’m tired of waiting. I want these companies to give, not just a portion of the profits on their specific products, but the entirety of the profits. Because, come on! How much would it hurt Apple to give up the profit on one single line of iPods? How many iPods do they have? They are only giving up $10 on this particular iPod that they are selling for $199. But then, that is the brilliance of Bono. He is patient. I am not.

Then I heard about a guy in Canada. I follow his blog occasionally. It’s called Waving or Drowning (which I find highly amusing and thought provoking; both the name and the blog). It turns out that he’s had some of the same thoughts that I had about the whole Product (RED) Campaign, with one large exception. He had a great idea to do something about it. His idea is that there are a lot of people out there in the big wide world who would give just $10 to help with getting AIDS medications to Africa and he has set up a system to do that. You can go to his blog and read his challenge here, then give $10 via Paypal to him. He is promising to pass it all (100%) along to the Stephen Lewis Foundation (a non-religious foundation based in Canada which assists children who have lost parents to AIDS). So check him out. If you feel it’s worthy, give him $10 (Canadian) to help with this cause. I did it and he even sent me an e-mail to say thankyou. Somehow it feels better than buying more stuff to clog the arteries of my house just to make myself feel as tho I did good.

UPDATE: Mike Todd (the guy in Canada) has written a post dealing with some of the concerns that people might have. You can read it here. Also I thought I’d post the text of his original challenge in the body of this post … so these are Mike’s words below:

I’ve come to the conclusion that I love this program. And I hate it. Let me try to explain why.

The love part is easy. I love it because it will provide funds for saving lives. What’s not to love about that?

Here’s the part with which I’m having trouble. I hate it because it’s a sad commentary, a mirror if you will, reflecting the reality of our culture back to us. The currency of the Kingdom is love. The currency of this material, self-centered culture is “stuff.” Bono is brilliant as he has realized this, and knows we will not give out of love. HIV/AIDS is killing people in numbers too horrible to give voice to. And while this troubles us, it apparently doesn’t trouble us enough to give out of love. The brilliance of Product (Red) is that it will get the money out of us anyway. No love? Fine, then we’ll appeal to your need for the other currency, for stuff. Want a new Gap shirt, and a trendy one at that? Great. Here you go, and by the way, a couple of bucks will go to life-saving drugs.

In short, I long for a world that operates on Kingdom currency. It’s coming… just not fast enough. In the meantime, I will grit my teeth, smile, and promote the Product (RED) campaign. Heck, I’ll probably end up wearing a red t-shirt. Hypocritical? Maybe. Paradoxical? Definitely.

Now for the challenge. Robert and I have been discussing for some time the need for us to start another campaign to raise some funds here at WorD.

We’ve been looking at the (RED) iPod specifically. When you spend $200 US on the iPod, Apple will contribute $10 to the Global Fund. (Robert has changed his mind about Christmas, BTW, so don’t bother emailing his wife.)

I don’t have a clue what the profit margins are like on the iPod, but $10 doesn’t strike me as a lot of money. Let’s be realistic. It’s not. Here’s the choice: You can lay out $200, get a new iPod, and contribute $10 to a good cause. Or, you can just contribute the $10. We believe we can get 1000 people to donate $10 each. We’d like $10 from everyone in the developed world, but we’ll settle for you, and everyone you know. And when we’re done, we’ll pass the money–all of it–along to the Stephen Lewis Foundation.

First, we need your $10. Just as importantly, we then need you to reach out to all your contacts. Post a link on your blog, send out an email to your friends, hang a banner from your window… whatever it takes. We’ll keep you posted on how we’re doing.

Together, we can do this. Help prove us right. Thank you.

I’ve entered a new phase in my life. This one came as a surprise. Unanticipated. Out of the blue. It all began sometime last winter and I’m still not sure how. But the first omens of it came during the Olympics last winter. LightGirl announced that she wanted to watch the hockey games. As the first game began, she ran to the schoolroom, grabbed the “H” WorldBook Encyclopedia, opened it to “Hockey” and proceeded to watch the game with book open on her lap to the page with the pictures of a referee on it with all of his hand signals. She watched all the games in like manner until she had memorized the ref’s calls and knew what they were before they were announced.

She wanted to take skating lessons. Simple. A neighbor was taking her son who was at the same level. So, off she went to skating lessons. She needed skates. Sometime in the spring she needed a stick for stickhandling lessons. Early in the summer she went to a day camp for hockey skills. Then she needed ….. e quip ment.

This fall we found a team for her to play on. It’s a good team. She loves it. And I’ve become …

… a

hockey mom.

What? How did this happen? One day I was just a mom and now I’m a hockey mom.

I went to a game on Saturday. I sat in the stands with about 4 other moms watching our girls do something we could never do. We weren’t allowed. So it never crossed our minds when we were their age. Most of us never even dreamed of it. We just stomped on those dreams before they even saw the light of day. We don’t speak of that of course. But there’s a light in these women’s eyes and I know I have it too. My girl isn’t going to have her dreams stomped on. She’s going to grow up stronger than I was. She isn’t going to have to be twice as good as a man to be considered half as bad. So I sit in the stands, work on my quilts and cheer these girls about to become women. They are learning how to skate hard. How to fall down and get up while their legs are still moving. How to make mistakes, but learn from them, and to not stop. How to get their heads in a man’s game and keep up.

Maybe, just maybe, all things being equal, things will be equal when she grows up. At the very least, she and her generation may be more prepared for it than their mothers were.