BlazingEwe and I took our children out to lunch at favored spot yesterday.  The fare is grilled hamburgers, fabulous fries, blistering buffalo wings and old-fashioned milkshakes.  During the warmish months there is outdoor seating.  The LightChildren and the FlamingLambs had their own table next to ours where we could keep our eye on them but have our own conversation.  Sometimes tho, we like to listen in on theirs because it’s hilariously funny.

We’ve discovered that our children have a fascination with appetites.  Theirs.  And that of adults.  They love to observe how much everyone else eats and compare it with how much they can eat.  This is not a judgemental thing.  They do not do this and then think things such as, “Well … of course they’re so FAT look how much they eat.”  They just sit in awe of how much food someone else can consume because in their minds it is a mark of greater adultness.  Or something.  It means more greater to them.  They remark constantly on the ability of FlamingLamb1 to eat an ADULT burger AND fries AND shake from the above establishment.  They tell this story to their friends with big eyes and nodding heads and the eyes of friends grow big and heads nod in return.  FlamingLamb1 must indeed be a heroine of great distinction.

So yesterday, when I heard the following story from LightBoy I had to bite my tongue and and cheeks to keep from laughing out loud.  iPete became legend to these 5 children round about the lunch table as they sat in the sun.  Here’s how it happened.  They had just finished going around discussing what they had ordered and how much each of them could eat of their lunch and gotten back to LightBoy.  He stopped the conversation with, “NO!  Wait.  You don’t understand.  Mr. Pete came here once.  He ordered the ADULT hotdog AND the ADULT hamburger and he ate them BOTH plus ALL the fries AND both drinks.”  With that he sat back and basked in the glory of having the best story of the day.  And three pairs of eyes the size of dinner plates stared back at him.  The fourth pair (his sister’s) just nodded in agreement.  For she too had born witness to this feat of glory.

This afternoon I discovered that I am a lousy Christian. I’ve always sort of known this. But today I found just how deep this vein runs. Here’s the scenario.

I needed to get gas for the LightMobile and I was running on the knife edge of being late for an appointment. I stopped at a gas station. For some reason, best known only to the prince of the powers of the air, the pumps were flashing a sign that said, “Pay cashier before pumping gas.” So I did. I pumped my gas. Just as I finished and climbed into my seat to pull away, a guy in a shiny, expensive Acura backed into the pump in front of me. There was a truck pulled in, waiting, behind me. I had to wait. The guy in the Acura was about 50 and far too proud of his muscles and his wraparound RayBans. He had the gall to wave and nod at me. I did not wave back. I did not think kind and gracious thoughts about him. Then I was late for my appointment. But it had nothing to do with Mr. Musclehead.

Life gets busy around the LightHouse sometimes. We don’t always get to have dinner together. Tonight was one of those nights. LightHusband was late getting home from a meeting and had just enough time to change from his suit to casual clothes and run out the door with LightGirl to her hockey practice. This left LightBoy and I with the opportunity to go out to dinner together. He picked IHOP. Yum. He had a Belgian Waffle with blueberry compote on top and bacon. I had Harvest Grain ‘Nuts pancakes, eggs and sausage.

There were several loud conversations going on around us. Not loud, as in tense. Just loud. As in the people who were having them had big voices and one was sort of forced to listen to them.

One was an early teenager whining and being disrespectful to her mother and generally mean to her younger brother. She was sullen and I was finding it very difficult to have gracious loving thoughts about her. In fact, I was finding it impossible.

The other loudmouth was part of a group. There looked to be a couple with two very young children and then the parents of one of the couple. The loudmouth was the husband/father of the young children. He was dominating the conversation. In the way that no one else seemed to be talking. He seemed to be speaking to the older lady and he spoke in such a way that it looked as though he was talking down to her. I thought that was sort of demeaning, especially since he wasn’t so smart himself. It became clear that he was talking about the current state of affairs between Japan and North Korea and the fact that North Korea had just completed nuclear arms testing. He began holding forth a somewhat simplistic and limited vision of mutually assured destruction. It included this moment of brilliance, “Well, we dropped one, no, two of ’em on Japan and it worked out okay.” I thought to myself, “I wonder what all the Japanese who used to work and live in Hiroshima and Nagasaki might say to that?” I wonder about all the cancer victims and orphans. But I guess it’s all okay because no Americans died and we intimidated the Soviets. I had a bloody tongue by this time. But he continued, completely oblivious to my distress. “Well the Russians knew to leave us alone. The Chinese … they know to leave us alone. We know to leave them alone. It all works out. But these other radicals. There’s no keeping them in one place. They just do what they want. [by this time he was waving his fat arms around … and I was sitting on my hands]” Somehow he had jumped from mutually assured destruction to the war on terror (which is complete fiction) and nuclear war and dealing with terrorists in one large illogical step. I had to leave.

On the other hand, our server was the kindest, most gracious lady I’ve met under those circumstances. She was brilliant. Even with whiny, sullen teenager, she sparkled and shone. It was miraculous. I’m not sure how she did it.

By the way, for every member of the Democratic National Committee who reads this blog: running Hillary Rodham Clinton for president in 2008 will be the biggest mistake in the history of the Democratic Party … bar none. You heard it here first, there is literally not one other person in the party who is so guaranteed to draw out the vote against a Democrat as she is. If you want to guarantee a HUGE Republican turnout in 2008, then run HRC, she’ll be your best bet to get the Republicans out in droves or should I say Roves.

What’s up (or down) with gas prices? Curiouser and curiouser that the laws of supply and demand are working in conjunction with an American midterm election and an American vacation season (up in summer 2006) and an American disaster (up in response to Hurricane Rita). I’m just saying ….

I saw a bumper sticker yesterday that said this: “Liberal – noun – someone who’s mind is so open their brains have fallen out.” I thought it was funny that this was on the back of a Subaru Outback which is a car that I associate with more liberal thinking folks for some reason. But then I thought that I’d like to get a bumper sticker that says, “Conservative – noun – someone who’s mind is so closed their brains have begun to rot for lack of sunlight.” I know that sounds sort of juvenile and unkind. Perhaps it is. But I want to do it because I want to bring to light just how juvenile and lacking in grace the political discourse in our country has become. It needs to be pointed out that it is not disgraceful to be a liberal. In point of fact, we need equal amounts of conservatives and liberals to run this country in a manner which is beneficial to everyone. But I have never one time, not once in my whole 40+ years of existence heard a liberal put down a conservative for their conservativeness. Liberals may challenge conservative ideas, but they do not make fun of conservatives for their very existence. On the other hand, when lacking substance, conservatives see no problem with attacking liberals for who they are and putting them down just for being. If we are indeed a democracy, that’s a huge problem.

I saw another bumper sticker several days ago that said something to the effect of: “4,000 babies a day are sacrificed to the god of convenience.” Well, then, that’s the other problem with our general discourse now. Everyone has the answer to questions that aren’t being asked. I thought it awfully kind of this person to let us know who the gods of this age are. I was equally glad that this person is so sure that s/he knows who is worshipping there and how. I wondered if this person had ever been in the position of having to choose. Whether s/he (and for some reason I think this person who is so sure must be a “he”) could ever understand that for most mothers who have been in that position, convenience is the very last thing they are thinking about. They are wondering how both they and their baby will eat. Live. Sleep in dry, clean beds. Some of them are worrying about whether or not the mother or the baby will be subjected to terrifying abuse. But I guess that all of those questions do properly fall under the heading of convenience. I wonder what falls under the heading of necessity?

The evil liberals at The New York Times are dissing the evangelicals again.

Evangelicals Fear the Loss of Their Teenagers

This article is really making the rounds on blogs that consider things churchy and otherwise. Having spent a number of years working in youth ministry I’ve got some thoughts on this issue.

The first is why all the fear? As with all things evangelical these days the fear-mongers seem to be out in full force. They were running rampant when I was in the evangelical church and the cries became more shrill after 9/11. The culture wars are being won by the heathens and pagans. As I began to look around with a more objective lens, I saw that the so-called culture wars were being fought on one side. No one else was fighting. The same goes for some of the statistics mentioned in this article such as the 4 percent solution. This begs the question 4 percent of what? What does that statement mean … Bible-believing? How is it defined? How does one live out those tenets?

When we’re talking about the next generation using narrowly defined texts seems to severly limit the number of those who will follow in our footsteps. Having made a hobby of history throughout my life, it seems that each generation likes to do this. It gives them a sense of self-importance. A sense of legacy that will not be lived up to. “No one can do what we did so it will die with us,” if you will. We like to think we’re the only ones who can carry the banner and no one will be available to pick it up for us.

Having said all of that, I believe that this article does indeed indict youth ministry in this country. It does so quite fairly. I believe we are raising children in our churches to believe some very backward ideas about what church is and how they should respond to it and behave within it. I think that the emerging church/conversation is on the verge of changing some of those ideas. But it’s going to take some radically different solutions to how we view and raise children within the context of the Body of Christ to swing the pendulum in a different direction. Here’s the quote that really caught my eye:

Apparently, the strategy can show results. In Chicago, Eric Soto said he returned from a stadium event in Detroit in the spring to find that other teenagers in the hallways were also wearing “Acquire the Fire” T-shirts.

“You were there? You’re a Christian?” he said the young people would say to one another. “The fire doesn’t die once you leave the stadium. But it’s a challenge to keep it burning.”

It’s the final two paragraphs in the article. It caught my eye for a couple of reasons; they are all wrapped in together so I’ll try to unwrap them in a logical manner.

We’re studying the Jewish holidays at my church this year. I’ve been given the lead on doing the research to find the theology behind all of them. So we are not simply finding the rituals and copying them; we’re diving into the theology and re-inventing it for our church to find out how Jesus might have reimagined it for the people of his day. It’s been a joy for my researcher’s heart and lead me down some wonderful paths. I am discovering quite a bit of marvelous synchronicity in the Jewish faith. Most of the holidays have a yin and a yang (for lack of a better term).
Today we celebrated Sukkot (the Feast of Tabernacles or Booths) a few days early by Jewish reckoning. As best I understand it, Sukkot celebrates the tension between storing up the harvest one has just brought in and the daily reliance upon God for survival modelled by the Israelites during their 40 years in the desert. Day in and day out they harvested manna, not too much though or it would rot and become infested with maggots. This is contradictory to the philosophy of farming and harvesting crops to tide a family and community over through not just one winter, but potentially several winters.

It is said that Sukkot is the epilogue for Passover. That Passover celebrates faith and Sukkot celebrates faithfulness. Sukkot is the holiday that celebrates 14,600 days and nights in the desert … 14,600 raising of the booths and lowering as well. Gritty, hasty lunches. Children whining, “Manna aaagggain. We just had that last night.” It celebrates perserverance and tenacity. It is the holiday for marathoners, quilters, artists, musicians, mothers, fathers, lawyers, doctors, programmers, athletes, and in short anyone who believes that s/he can methodically move a mountain one rock at a time.

Paradoxically, I believe this is where we are selling our children short. If we sell them a faith that is all about mountaintops and Passover and fail to help them through to the celebration of Sukkot we are not helping them to become fully fledged adults who are ready to take on life. Adults need the occasional Passover, but mostly we know that life is about Sukkot; it’s putting one foot in front of the other. It’s not about keeping a whole fire burning, but about keeping the ember from dying.

I believe the whole idea of youth ministry and youth group needs to be reimagined. Currently we segregate the youth and give them fun and games church until they are 18 or perhaps 21. Then we deem that they are old enough to be “with the adults.” This they find boring (as would I if I’d been in youth ministry for my whole life). Not surprisingly, they leave the church in droves, because church is no longer fun, no longer a mountain top and no one has given them any tools for remaining there. There has to be some middle ground between creating segregated youth and adult church systems and fully integrated systems which is, admittedly, not wholly appropriate for teens.

Preparing for this service, as for all of the Jewish holidays, has forced me to think and then rethink many of my unspoken and often unacknowledged assumptions about my faith, my faith practices and their roots. This looking backwards for thousands of years has also given me hope to look forward. The coming generations will have faith. It may not look like mine. Future generations may not remain in organized church systems; they may reimagine church entirely. But I’ve found a way to look beyond the fear and see that the ways of faith are as diverse as the people on this planet. It’s a beautiful thing!

I am disgusted.  Appalled.  Sick to my stomach.  After years of hearing the rants against Democrats.  The years of hearing about liberals bringing this country to ruin.  Clinton was the ammoral outrage.  The lightening rod for all that was wrong in our world.

Now we discover that Representative Foley is not just having sex on the side.  He is a pedophile.  A homosexual pedophile.  He uses his position of power to engage in sexual acts with minor boys.  Representative Foley is a Republican.   The party that claims to have the last say on family values.  I know Republicans who express shock when they discover a person who loves their children is a Democrat or a liberal.  Really.   I have had people express shock and dismay when they discovered that I am a Democrat.  How can that be?  I seem soooo nice and balanced.  Not at all satanic and evil.  Funny how that works.

I don’t particularly care what Representative Foley does in his free time.  It is, after all, his free time.  He is an adult.  If he is indeed a homosexual, I’m sorry he feels the need to cover it up so completely.  Perhaps if he told himself and everyone else the truth about who he is, he wouldn’t be in this place right now.  Honesty really is the best policy.  Perhaps if we all starting telling the truth to ourselves about who people are in terms of their sexuality, we would be able to protect our children from these predators more easily.  There might be fewer of them and there would be fewer dark corners for them to hide in.  There is nothing frightening or evil about a person’s sexuality.  It just is.  All we are required to do is love them, just as we love alcoholics, gluttons, thieves, rock stars, athletes, and doctors.

The hue and cry over Representative Foley’s reprehensible acts of pederasty have left me somewhat unimpressed.  I well remember the thunderous imprecations from the pulpits of Christendom over President Clinton’s immoral turpitude with Monica Lewinsky.  Ten years later, when actual crimes have been committed, the thunder is but a tinny roll on a cheap dime store drum calling for mercy and grace.  This from the same pulpits which demand and still demand President Clinton’s head on a platter.

I can think of several ancient cliches which fit this situation … about shoes fitting, lying in beds of one’s own making and the like.  But I think the cliche which Republicans and Christian Republicans ought to explore is:  What’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander.  Morality is morality no matter which political party one is in.  Whatever yardstick one uses one must use that yardstick for all parties regardless.  If we are not willing to do that, then God help us.

The ubiquitous “they” say that the adolescent years are a time of formation. It is a time when the character is formed, when the child becomes an adult. What “they” don’t tell you is that “they” are speaking of the parents, not the teenagers.

LightGirl is rushing headlong down the road of adolescence. She is giddily lapping up the days. Rejoicing in each moment. At a wedding on Saturday, she was overjoyed to repeat to each waiter time and again that, no she did not want any wine, she was “only 12.” As her mother, I felt faint each time it happened. Yes, she is tall and lovely … but she is ONLY 12 for heaven’s sake. Gawky and stilt-walky in her too-long legs and too-tall shoes. Goofy with her hair that won’t work right yet because she’s still learning. And oh-my-goodness I don’t think I will survive the moment by moment dance recitals. No this is not a dance recital that one views, this is a dance where one must listen to a recital of the moment by moment review of events and then an instant replay of the new moves the dancer has learned. The new moves which appear as frightening spasms out of the context of the dance.

Sunday came yet another new experience. I attended my first hockey game. I found that I am not a good sports parent. When LightGirl first got onto the ice, she had the same look on her face that she used to have during multiplication drills. It was not a look I have any patience for. I found myself wanting to yell advice at her. No, commands. Anything to make that look go away. To get her to skate faster and do better. Not be so gawky. Be perfect during her second ever game. Not that I have high standards or anything … yeesh. I was fortunate to be sitting next to some very chill parents who encouraged me when I grumbled. The coach gave me a good visual and more encouragement for how well LightGirl is doing after the game. Today we discovered (during her private lesson) that the poor girl’s skates are too small and she has been wearing her shin pads incorrectly!! But her mechanics are great. It might be that when her feet don’t hurt and when she is able to bend her knees, she’ll come alive. Perhaps her mother will gain a little patience as well 😉

Perhaps adolescence is time when we’ll both develop a little character.

Lately I’ve seen some sights around town that made me look twice and think thrice. Since I just got back from my long drive (to East Overshoe to our CSA farm) and I need to wind down, here are a few of them.

The other day I was driving past a church. The sign out front advertised a family movie night on Friday and an open house on Sunday. “Huh?” I thought, “And here I thought everyday was open house for a church! What was I thinking??!!” Today I drove past it and they are advertising “World Communion” for this Sunday.

I saw a young guy walking down the street. I know I’m firmly implanted in my middle years. But I’m used to seeing all sorts of clothing and not being phased by it. I don’t remember specifics, I just remember remarking to Sizzling Ewe that perhaps this particular young man ought to cease purchasing his fashion sense at Montgomery Ward, since they’ve gone out of business.

I found it remarkable today that the two vehicles that were the most aggravating to drive behind were SUVs with dealer tags. They were aggravating because the drivers were having issues handling them. They didn’t even want to go the speed limit and braked at every turn. It was annoying.

There’s a church I pass on the way to East Overshoe called Believers Baptist Church. For some reason this name makes me laugh. It also makes me want to stop and ask the pastor what sort of believers they are looking for. There is something about that name that is officious and pompous. It sounds like hiked-up pants and slick hair.

I love the drive going out to East Overshoe. It gets progressively less congested and more beautiful. I hate the drive coming home. It’s everything in reverse and I’m driving into rush hour traffic. Bleh….

We made butter in the Osgiliath Classical School Potions class the other day. That’s chemistry for all you who might be wondering. We were investigating the different states of matter. It gave me renewed appreciation for my colonial mothers. We made butter with just one cup of cream and we had a cold storage unit handy. If it didn’t work, so what? But my colonial mothers had to do this and much more every day … every, every, EVERY day. Or their families went hungry and cold. We have so much convenience in our lives we don’t even know what to do with it. We don’t even recognize most of it.

LightBoy’s current ambition is be Mr. Spock from the original Star Trek. This morning he brought me his sister’s eyeliner and asked me to draw Spock eyebrows on him. I complied, but it’s been very unsettling to look at him today. He has, essentially, two sets of eyebrows on his sweet round face and one set makes him look sinister. Of course, he thinks this is very wonderful. We are now in the market for a Mr. Spock costume for Halloween. Oh … yay. Then LightGirl decided she would like to be Lt. Uhura (with the very short dress). I said, “No. You will not be Lt. Uhura (with the very short dress).”

Back in March, you may remember that LightGirl entered a contest called Fashion Revue with a pair of pants she had sewn. She won a blue ribbon for her efforts. At that time, I fought a full scale battle to get her to wear a little eye shadow, mascara and blush for the contest as she had to model her outfit for some judges. It was just to make her look well put together. Finished, as it were. Now (less than 6 months later) she wears full makeup every day. I finally asked her one morning if we should expect this from now on. She said we should. The other morning tho, I had to object. I think that when eyeliner can be measured with a ruler in eighth inch increments, it has been applied too liberally. She has backed off a little since then.

We began walking again this morning. I should say huffing and puffing. It wasn’t pretty. It was interesting to see all the gardens on the far side of the season. Then I felt sad. I realized how much I’ve missed by not walking through the summer. I could have seen all the comings and goings of the flowers and other crops, but I was lazy and I missed it. I did part of the loop alone. I couldn’t have done that last winter because I was so scared. And I left the house without any wallet or identification … another huge step for me. I am much stronger now.

Well … those are some snapshots of life in the LightHouse and more frightening still, into my mind recently. I’ll try to keep these posts to a minimum.

A good friend of our has suggested in the past that our family should have various superpowers to go with our names. I like that idea. We haven’t yet acquired these superpowers. But I think that one of the powers that LightGirl has is that of silliness and giddiness. In her role as keeper of humor in our home she sent me a link to this. It’s hilarious and makes you laugh even when you think you have nothing to laugh for. So … watch and giggle and share in some of LightGirl’s transcendent giddiness.

Today was a day for new things in our family. At our church we joined with the Jewish tradition and celebrated Rosh HaShana. We explored the themes of het (missing the mark), judgement and repentance. Examining the ways that not following the Great Commandments wounds those in our tribe, or sphere of influence. Checking out the manner that lists of sins have become matters of the heart and the ways in which we can be turned towards God or away from him.

Well … that’s what LightBoy and I did.

LightGirl and LightHusband left very early this morning and drove to a city somewhat south of here for her first hockey game ever. The coach plays everybody … every body. An excellent coach, who can find. One who is more concerned about teamwork and relationships than about winning (even tho that is important). LightHusband came home with glowing reports about how wonderful the coach and the game was. LightGirl said, “We lost. But now I know everyone’s names!” It’s those little things that are important.

So here are some pictures of my girl. Looking like official. Wearing number 11. Playing the one game that is sure to tweek my nerves. After all the fights endured by my parents between my brother and I over whether he would watch Hockey Night in Canada, or I would get to watch The Waltons. Surely, I thought, living in a southern city and raising a girl, hockey was not even on my radar. ‘Twas not to be. And I am left with the last laugh.

When I was in highschool I remember that my fondest dream was to never make decisions that I would regret. I was very sure that this was going to be a simple task to accomplish. At the ripe old age of 17 or 18 and even when I was in college and on into my early 20’s the notion that decisions were simple matters of black and white, that the path ahead would be clearly marked seemed obvious to me.

I’ve discovered, of course, that life is full of shades of grey. Black and white are mostly reserved for television programs and movies. Paths are fraught with twists and turns; some of which can be discerned, but most cannot. Choices must be made. Mostly I’ve learned that it’s not the large decisions that affect us the most. Sometimes the small decisions have the largest effect.

Of course, too one must also consider who to grieve the most. Should I grieve myself, or my children, or my husband? Or my calling? How to make decisions in that arena?

I made a decision to follow my heart, but it means missing the chance to see, and support LightGirl play in her first hockey game ever. Now I have to decide, am I actually following my heart? or just my ego?