The Year of Mom

She doesn't read my blog unless I ask her to, so I feel at liberty to pay a little homage to my mother right now.

My mom has had quite a year. Actually, she's had quite a few years. Perhaps this is what happens, to women especially, when you get to be a certain age. She and my dad decided a few years back to help young men in prison who had recently become Christians. While I was initially skeptical, it has proven to be some experience. Not only have they been able to give a few guys a nice home this year while they got on their feet, they've more or less adopted one of these fellows as their own. He's the brother I never wanted! Of course my parents have done this together, but my mom (being a mom) has been the main supplier of love and patience to these guys.

At Easter we got a call, the kind of call you dread. My mom thought she might have breast cancer, then found out she actually did. I was a wreck-- there were plenty of phone calls between my sister and I punctuated with long sighs. But my mother was aces. She went through surgery and her radiation with no complaint; even though she went for treatments every day of the week for months she kept on with life as usual. I always knew she was a trooper, but this proved it for sure.

And she started running this year. I mean, the woman runs every morning which is more than I've ever done. She and my dad hiked like crazy this summer, even during her radiation. And her cancer treatment was over for hardly a week before she got a new job. Not the typical grandma, but she is a good Noni too, coming to see her granddaughter whenever the opportunity avails itself (and always bringing a bag of clothes, of course).

Now my mother has always served as an example to me. So many moms raise their kids in such a way that they then become afraid of being spouses or parents themselves. But my mother gave me the confidence that I could have kids, be strong through struggles, and enjoy my children as much as she did while we were growing up. She also taught me a lot about marriage, that it can be the best thing despite all the trials it can bring and that you just don't give up on your spouse.

So, if I may be so bold, I'm declaring 2009 the year of mom. For all you overcame and all you accomplished this year, here's to you mom!

The Insect on the Leaf

I have been reading "Margaret Sanger's Eugenic Legacy: The Control of Female Fertility." It is an excellent work that systematically uncovers that Margaret Sanger was much more than just the mother of the modern birth control movement: she was devoted to the ideals of eugenics which sought to promote a sharp decrease in procreation among the poor, immigrants, black people, and the mentally and physically challenged. Her financial backers like the Rockefellers and Carnagies upheld these beliefs as well, wishing to put money toward birth control methods that would control "unwanted" populations rather than contributing to their immediate care.

So much for a feminist leader. What kind of feminist insists poor women's feritlity should be controlled by male millionaires, that minority women should be bred out of existence, that sterilization should be imposed upon women with Down Syndrome or genetic diseases? I'm sure Nancy Pelosi and Ruth Bader Ginsberg and Hillary Clinton are of the same ilk. I wish they'd read their Dickens a bit closer. Here is an excerpt from a "Christmas Carol" which I've posted before and will likely refer to again. Please take the time to remember who the poor and disenfranchised are before assuming life would be better off without them.

Then Bob proposed: "A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!''

Which all the family re-echoed. "God bless us every one!'' said Tiny Tim, the last of all.

He sat very close to his father's side upon his little stool. Bob held his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the child, and wished to keep him by his side, and dreaded that he might be taken from him.

"Spirit,'' said Scrooge, with an interest he had never felt before, "tell me if Tiny Tim will live.''

"I see a vacant seat,'' replied the Ghost, "in the poor chimney-corner, and a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved. If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, the child will die.''

"No, no,'' said Scrooge. "Oh, no, kind Spirit! say he will be spared.''

"If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, none other of my race,'' returned the Ghost, "will find him here. What then? If he be like to die, he had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.''

Scrooge hung his head to hear his own words quoted by the Spirit, and was overcome with penitence and grief.

"Man,'' said the Ghost, "if man you be in heart, not adamant, forbear that wicked cant until you have discovered What the surplus is, and Where it is. Will you decide what men shall live, what men shall die? It may be, that in the sight of Heaven, you are more worthless and less fit to live than millions like this poor man's child. Oh God! to hear the Insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life among his hungry brothers in the dust!''

Pictures

I finally found the cord that hooks up our camera to the computer after losing it... again. Anyway, here are some photos of Lucy from the last few months.

Trying out her new coat on our trip to DC.

While Alan prefers the iron, Lucy likes to get out

those stubborn wrinkles with a hand mixer.

Getting ready to go trick-or-treating.

At the Wilmore Halloween fair.

Look at those candy-crazed eyes!
This is after a good hour or so of Lucy dragging us around the street fair.
She insisted on carrying her own bucket of goodies.

Wearing her ballet slippers and leotard from Auntie Alex, among other things.

Visit to Michigan

We were fortunate enough to be able take a trip to Michigan this past week to see my sister. An 8 hour car ride, once a seemingly impossible task, is now taken in stride. Alan and I consider long stints in the car to talk things over very therapeutic.

It was nice to see Alex and Stephen, of course, and good to be in a different place if only for a few days. In Grand Rapids you can drive for 15 minutes and still be in GR; if you drive that long in Wilmore you end up in the next county! We took advantage of the big city experience by eating hippie food and taking in the local culture (i.e. Alex let us watch a rehearsal of her upcoming show). She'll dance the Arabian solo in this year's nutcracker, a part I always thought she'd be good at and she is.

When you enjoy the company of your syblings you don't need to do much to have a good time. We just ate a lot, watched TV, helped Alex and Stephen around town. Stephen kindly showed us his studio at Calvin so we could see his latest painting series. Lucy had a good time with both of them, bossing Auntie and "See-wee" around whenever they let her.

It is a meloncholy time of year, in my opinion, so it was nice to get away and spend time with my sister. I'm looking forward to advent, am nervous about Alan getting into a good program, and can't decide if it is more important to use my free time to sort out the clutter in my house or in my sorry little head! Such is the coming of winter.

"A Stroke of Good Fortune"

The sad state of things never seems to end these days. I have frequently come across the "childfree" movement online. Like landmines, these blogs lie in wait-- I'm searching for some commonplace topic on Google and wham! a "child free by choice" blog. Well good for you lady, is all I think and then usually move on.

Today I was in a curious mood and perused one of these sites. Oh dear. It seems many ever-childless people who make a conscious effort not to have kids call people with children "breeders." Once again I am reduced to the status of livestock! One page had a whole list of "good reasons" why people choose not to have kids, most of them being ecological. Another posted a list of retorts for people who ask nosy questions about why one doesn't have kids.

Now I have to confess, I left harassing messages on most of the blogs I found (shame on me). I know, dear readers, many of you are thinking "But Sarah, that is their choice." Sure, I find their choice rather selfish but according to the list the proper response to that is that I'm being selfish for unleashing more resource consumers on the world.

But people, they are clamoring for rights! How come every kind of personal choice requires activism? Rights for the intentionally childless? Oh please! There are lots of supposed rights I'd like because I chose to live in Kentucky, send my husband through school, or work as a writer. I can see it now: the Defense League for those Who Ghost Write, Live in Rural America, and Help Educate a Spouse. Kinda catchy.

I know these folks are confident their 401ks alone will take care of them when they are old; however when inflation has ruined them financially I hope my kids are around to forgive their nastiness, help them by paying taxes, and perhaps give them just a little kick in the shins when no one is looking.

(Read "A Stroke of Good Fortune" for Flannery O'Connor's perspective on people who are terrified of children.)

S.P.M. hearts S.D.

"Give her some funked up music, she treats you nice
Feed her some hungry reggae, she'll love you twice
The girls don't seem to care tonight
As long as the mood is right
No static at all
FM, no static at all." -Steely Dan

When I was a child there was a Steely Dan CD rattling around in my parents collection. While systematically checking out all of their music I came across it and was taken by the song "Deacon Blues." It is about a free wheeling saxophonist and his live fast, die young philosophy. Why I thought this was so great as a third grader, I don't remember.

Steely Dan haunted me from then on. It didn't take many conversations about the duo before I learned being their fan wasn't something you talked about-- the criticisms seemed harsh and unnecessary. Was a smooth sound so bad? Was bringing rock and jazz into a harmonious pop sound so evil?

After realizing I didn't want to be one of "those people"-- the kind that control their old-school musical tastes to what is totally ironic at the time (aka the indie sheep)-- I relaxed and enjoyed.

So a few days ago I heard them live for the first time. It is risky paying money to see a band known for their studio recording perfection, but it was well worth it. My sister graciously accompanied me and didn't look too embarrassed when I was dancing in my seat. The guitar solos, the brass, the cheeky back up singers all brought my favorites to life. And to see a theater full of other fans, many of them young women like myself, confirmed I was not alone in my appreciation for the static-free styling of Steely Dan.

Being a Good Citizen... blah blah blah

In college I claimed to be apolitical. In truth I was too distracted by other things to care much. Bush made me nauseous, starting the war in Iraq seemed pointless, the House and Senate looked like a two ring circus.

Not much has changed. Now Obama makes me nauseous, escalating the war in Afghanistan seems pointless, and the House and Senate.... well that really hasn't changed. But I've decided to have a go at being involved, thinking it may be part of my responsibility as a citizen after all.

The proposed national health care plan, what a topic these days. Some say its about time, others say it'll be our ruin. The Catholic Church said, whatever it is it can't include abortion coverage. I agree. It is bad enough my tax dollars have to go to killing people overseas and sacrificing our military-- I'd really rather that it not go to fund more killing at home. As I've said before, the abortion industry in America has such implicit racist and classist overtones that I don't know how any person with a heart could support it with more federal money, even if many do believe an unborn child is not a person with rights.

So I called my congressman about the recently passed Stupak-Pitts Amendment, rallied some friends and family to do the same, and was pleased when it passed the House. Planned Parenthood saying the USCB "hijacked" the health care bill is just silly. And really, the bishops are great but give the Catholic people their due credit. They didn't have to tell me to call, I did it on my own. I just think it is funny that when Catholics help vote in PP's preferred candidate for president they are called open-minded, and now that those same people are speaking their minds about abortion they are compared to terrorists. Not the "fair mindedness" Obama called us all to, is it?

"Picket lines, sister
And picket signs, sister
Don't punish me with brutality
Come on talk to me, sister
So you can see
What's going on."
-Marvin Gaye

Baby #2

Today my midwife came over for my first appointment. The baby's heart rate sounds great (a happy little swoosh swoosh) and I seem to be in good shape. Having a home visit is so nice, a very personal alternative to the clinic I went to last time. She gave me the green light to start running again, and the midwife was hardly out the door before I had on my shoes and was out for a jog.

I am just out of my first trimester so it will be another 6 months of leg cramps, stomach troubles, and the like. But as long as we are healthy and the birth goes well I have nothing to complain about.

Halloween: Part II

Forget my last post: one of my favorite contributors to First Things has put all my thoughts into words better than I ever could have. Enjoy.

The Drama of Hallowmas by Sally Thomas

Halloween

So shoot me, I like Halloween. In college my "power encounter" professor (its like an evangelical Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher) told me it was unhealthy to like such a demonized day and fellow classmates told me I was "playing with fire" to recognize the 31st at all. Really?

Yesterday afternoon Lucy and I took a walk down town to buy a pie pumpkin. It was dreary outside, just a little cold. Birds picked morsels out of people's dead gardens, leaves sat heaped up in piles by the curb, the air felt colder than it had before. The earth dies, in part, during the Fall. We can talk about the happy circle of life all we want: there is something a little spooky about walking around on a gloomy afternoon in autumn seeing this kind of decay.

Halloween is the eve of All Saints Day. In the church it is a time to remember the saints and those we love who have passed on. We pray for the dead, for a quick journey through purgatory. Now I don't think gore and guts are the way to memorialize the day when we meditate on death. And of course it shouldn't be done fatalistically-- all meditation should be performed with some expectation of our redemption and resurrection. But refusing to take the time on Halloween-- or All Hallows Eve, or Hell-oween or whatever you want to call it-- to think about the inevitable reality of dying seems flippant. And since we do celebrate Christ's victory over death and the joy of those who are with Him now, the candy and costumes are just fine by me too.

Trip to DC

We had a great time in DC. The trip out was smooth sailing-- Lucy was a trooper, there were few cars on the road, and we made it there in record time. We took a wrong turn at the hotel and ended up downtown rather than in Virginia where we were staying, but it afforded us a quick drive-through tour of the Capitol's landmarks. With a little room service, baths, and TV in bed we felt plenty refreshed.

The next day was horribly rainy and cold (for us, anyway). Still, Lucy and I made it to the Museum of Natural History and the Museum of American History while Alan was at his conference. Lucy loved the gemstones, the dinosaur bones, and the animal dioramas; the first ladies' dresses, Kermit, and the Hope Diamond were a little less thrilling for her. We turned in early, thoroughly soaked and chilled to the bone.

Sunday was Lucy's birthday. Before my parents came in for a visit we went to the national shrine. What a beautiful church! All the art work I saw is another post in itself. The mass was beautiful as well and it was neat to see so many Catholics from all over the country meeting there to worship.

After my parents arrived and Alan got back from his meetings we partied! Lucy opened her presents, we ate tasty Japanese food, and stayed up late drinking cider and eating apple donuts. I think Lucy enjoyed herself at her makeshift party.

I'm glad we went. After we booked the trip I thought it was a mistake, that maybe we should have sent Alan on his own. But why should he get to travel while we stay at home? I like this arrangement much better: he goes to hear a lecture, me and kids traipse around the city!

Speak Up

I know, I know, who needs another earful of my opinions? But sometimes speaking up pays off. This summer I came across an article on contraception and religion at About.com. There was a rather disparaging remark in the essay about contraception and Catholics, stating the Church only permits sex when pregnancy may result. Anyone familiar with NFP as approved by the church knows this isn't true.

So I emailed the author and asked her to change it. And she did! She kindly replaced her statement with mention of the unitive and procreative aspects of sex with regards to the ban on contraception, so on and so forth. It may not seem like a big deal, but I was happy to lessen the load of internet misinformation rather than adding to it for once :)

Lesson of the day: say something. You'd be surprised how willing many folks are to listen. Sorry to say that running my mouth has gotten me a lot this past year: coupons, rebates, a chance to copy edit for a certain political up-start (I won't say who!). I even got to slam Oprah a little in "First Things"-- what could be better!?

"The only tired I was, was tired of giving in." -Rosa Parks

"Americans are so enamored of equality, they would rather be equal in slavery than unequal in freedom." -Alexi de Tocqueville

Madison Greene, where are you?

I know the answer to this question: one of the only indie bands I've ever loved disbanded years ago to form other groups that I'm not so crazy about. The lead singer had a clear, soft voice and the accompanying percussion was easy to listen to. Anyhow, in college I was particularly fond of a song from Madison Greene that I don't know the title to. The lyrics are almost incomprehensible but I've typed them up as I hear them here just for fun:

And this could be my hardest break
A little time, a little cold
I see you in the landscape of my heart
And maybe there where the mirror breaks
Life could have more reflection
Would I feel so many worlds away?

And could we laugh some time?
There are no changes today
(Maybe there are reasons today we don’t laugh)
And there are no changes today

And practice works for quite a while
Maybe I could find it out
Find it out when I step out of time
And someone said you died for me
You took a dive, years ago
And I want to believe that its not just a fairytale

And could we talk some time?
There are no changes today
(Maybe there are reasons we find we don’t talk)
And there are no changes today

This could be the kindest word
Anyone has ever heard
And its all, its all just a season away
Or this could be the longest wait
Maybe all eternity
If I, if I can stand
If I can stand

There are no seeds in the ground
Maybe if we talked a while then
Maybe if we laughed a while
If I, if I can stand
If I can stand


If you are a fan of the band, know the name of this song, or can add a correction to my lyrics, please leave a comment. I always thought this song was, for all its vagueness, a good portrayal of the expectations, doubts, and hopes of the journey towards Jesus, that God-man who often seems ragged, wild, and motioning for us to turn (to quote O'Connor yet again).

Most Absolutely Spiritual

An admonishment from my new favorite author-- a quote from Flannery O'Connor about birth control which causes me to half apologize for my recent post on the world's population:

'The Church's stand on birth control is the most absolutely spiritual of all her stands and with all of us being materialists at heart, there is little wonder that it causes unease. I wish various fathers would quit trying to defend it by saying that the world can support 40 billion. I will rejoice the day when they say: This is right whether we all rot on top of each other or not, dear children, as we certainly may. Either practice restraint or be prepared for crowding."

Sid the Rational, Mature, Disenchanted Kid

I am not a fan of Sid the Science Kid, so my opinion here is a little biased. I don't appreciate a show that depicts children going to school only to learn about science. Plus the cartoon kids on the show are nearly incoherent: "Like wow! The human body is like totally awesome."

So today, as the TV babysat Lucy while I caught up on work, I caught the tail end of Sid the Science Kid. Sid was explaining that he'd learned in school that when your stomach makes noise, it isn't talking to you. I assume he was referring to the ever popular "your belly's talking" set of expressions. Sid cleared the air (thank God!) by saying that the noise is digestion beginning. Now if an 8 year old responded to me saying "your belly's talking" with "no, that's only the beginning of digestion" I'd be apt to find him impertinent and sadly adult.

Fine, teach your kids about the functions of the human body at an early age. But is there anything wrong with something like the body being a little mysterious until a certain age? Is there really any harm in believing your stomach is talking to you, or that watermelon seeds might take sprout if you swallow them, or in the value of lost teeth to some eccentric fairy with a wand and wad of cash? I am often disturbed to see how proud people are when their children see through something like the tooth fairy early on. It as if they are saying "Look at my kid, she's so filled with doubt! I love how realistic my 3 year old is!"

I'd rather Sid the Science Kid not disenchant the world for Lucy quite yet, so he may have to sit out of our viewing line up for a while. Perhaps the lesson is to have her do something more constructive while I'm working...

The Mostroms Take DC

Alan is attending a conference in Washington DC this October and since I like tagging along Lucy and I will be joining him. Last year his academic wanderings took us to Florida and Disney World-- this will not quite measure up, I know. But I still enjoy an adventure, even if it is just to the capitol for a few days.

There is not much for a two year old to do in DC, however. Thankfully we will be there only two days and there are only two Lucy-friendly activities there: the National Zoo and the Smithsonian Museum of American History. I'm hoping between lions, tigers, and pandas one day and Kermit, ruby slippers, and Abe Lincoln the next she will have plenty to feast her eyes on. I'm looking forward to not cooking, staying at the Sheraton (I am easy to please), and zipping around on the metrorail. It always does me good to take a little trip to the city.

Blaaah!

Pregnancy is a funny thing. For me it starts out with awful sickness. All I feel is a fist of nausea shoved into my solar plexus. At least this time I know the better part of pregnancy-- kicks from the baby, bursts of energy, the knitting one gets done while nesting-- can only be a few months away.

My parents were here for a long weekend and while I felt bad that the trip was a bust in some ways (we couldn't do anything we planned because of my stomach) I was glad they were here to take care of things. My mom took care of Lucy and fed us all while my dad fixed our dining room chairs and did a few other repairs. We still had good conversation and they had some time to relax, however I wish I was in better spirits for their trip.

I am lucky I work from home and have Alan here throughout the day; its allowed me to rest and coddle my stomach much better than I could last time. Lucy has taken to telling me "I know mommy. Better! Better!" whenever I get a green, and its nice to have a little cheerleader around as well.

O to grace how great a debtor

"If it can be said to be 'about' anything, then it is 'about' prophets and prophecy, 'about' revelation, and 'about' the impact of supernatural grace on human beings who don't have a chance of spiritual growth without it." -Alice Waker on Flannery O'Connor's works

After a few years of being homeschooled, maybe my first year of high school, my mother purchased a new set of curriculum for my sister and me. The Sonlight program was Christian like the Bob Jones text books we used (I rue the day my parents bought them!) but it was a simple reading calendar rather than text books. As far as I remember, that year I read through history, english, social studies and so on. It was a welcome change picking up All's Quiet On the Western Front rather than picking through another tome on dates, facts, and figures, surrounding the World Wars.

Then in college I was fortunate enough to find a religion professor who handled things similarly. Larry, as we called him, assigned us Potok when we studied Judaism, the Ramayana for Hinduism, Elmer Gantry for the psychology of religion, and the more dubious The Celestine Prophecy for New Age thought. Again, a welcome relief as I found learning through works of fiction had a way of driving the point home in a round about, through the back door sort of way.

Like all terrible people I am stuck in my ways and still find this a superior method of learning. This summer Alan, on a booking buying ban, purchased a copy of Flannery O'Connor's complete works supposedly for me. I told him if he was going to play school teacher and make me read something he'd have to read it with me. So we went through Wise Blood and A Good Man is Hard to Find. To my chagrin I was enjoying the work of this sassy little Southern woman. Worse, her stories wouldn't leave my head for days, weeks.

I am moving through O'Connor's complete works and, after a short stint of being mad at her for killing off so many characters, the finer things of the stories emerged. I've never been one to "get" literature-- I was always wrong in English class when it came to analysing stories, always. But O'Connor I'm beginning to get. She writes of mercy, forgiveness, grace in a way that doesn't quite make sense until you sit on it a while. So, once again, novels are leading me on into something new, and the works of Flannery O'Connor are teaching me about God's grace in a way a devotional or theological text just would not be able to. Please pray I learn to understand.

It stinks in the bull penn

"The Vatican should leave science to those that believe in it." - Penn Jillette on Bullshit

Sure. Now please, sir, eat your own words and leave religion to those who believe in it. Please please, pretty pretty please.

Another atheist rant. I know the fact that I believe in God takes away all of my credibility, even with some of my faithful readers. However, I am a somewhat rational person (at least I hope). I can imagine what life might be like not believing in anything greater than the human mind. What I can't fathom is why I would care so much about religion, especially that Catholic Church which, in the minds of many atheists, seems to be the biggest joke of all.

Here I'll reference the episode of Penn & Teller's Bullshit that has everyone up in arms. The saddest part is that it isn't funny, but rather scathing, as if big jovial Penn was replaced by windbag Greg Giraldo. The show lays down the typical, hysterical argument: the Vatican has lots of money and power and is causing destruction around the world.

It is responsible for people in Africa dying of AIDS, for example. Is the Catholic Church the only organization allowed to access African countries? Penn kept referencing how the unbelieving are so naturally moral, compassionate, conscientious, and humane-- why aren't they taking care of the AIDS problem south of the equator by distributing condoms and teaching safe sex as they wish the Vatican would do? Many athiests are quite well off, enough that if all of them banded together they could take care of the problem in little time. Why hasn't that happened yet? And if it is happening, than why care so much that the Church is teaching abstinence and not handing out condoms?

Again, as a "religious" person I hardly find the atheists of the world capable of taking care of hunger, poverty, ignorance, or the corrupt powers that be as they seem unorganized and apathetic. So I take it upon myself as the person of morality to contibute to the education, feeding, housing, and clothing of the disenfrachised. If Penn is so convinced that religious people are filled with "intolerance, greed, paranoia, and callus disregard for human life" than I hope he is trying to step into the space the church is supposedly standing in when it comes to AIDS or poverty.

Addendum: a more aptly put bit about the same topic

Back in Kentucky & Miscellany

We are back in Kentucky. It was sad to leave family in Washington but I am also glad to be back in our routine here. Alan's started classes at UK as well as his job there and Lucy and I have been busy settling the house.

Tonight we went to a "sing for your supper" party at the home of our friends. We didn't sing but they let us eat anyway. We heard songs about Ireland, Kentucky, and Amarillo; about soldiers, Jesus, and drunken rednecks; about farm animals, love, and little stars. Good food, lots of fun, and nice to catch up with the friends we've been missing.

***

If you haven't yet, please listen to "Please Read the Letter"-- it is a Robert Plant song that he recently rerecorded with Allison Krauss (I guess you could call her a bluegrass musician). To me it is a kind of austere rock song, measured and folksy and sweetly sad. But I'll let you ruminate on it for yourself.

***

Also, here is a little video that, as silly as it may seem, gives an interesting perspective on overpopulation. Its a subject that's come up frequently in conversation so I thought I'd share it.

What We've Been Doing This Summer

Here is an update, in photos, of our summer in Washington:

The 4th of July picnic we went to. Lucy had a great time, as you can see.

Here we are with Lucy's little cousin, Jackson.

We were all at a u-fish farm for a birthday in the family.

Alan, of course, has found enough odd moments to get all his reading done.

Lucy caught her first fish that day (with a little help from Daddy).

A musical duet from Lucy and cousin Dylan.

Grandma Mostrom-- I like to think we've become buddies this summer.

I thought this was a nice shot of the fellas with the kids.

All of us celebrating Nana's birthday.

A home-grown family picture.
The bigger the Mostrom clan gets, the more impractical professional photos become.
This and all the other pics here are compliments of sister-in-law Des.

How nice it is to pawn off your kid on the in-laws for a moment alone!


My beautiful Lucy!

Cooling down after our photo shoot.

The big kids playing in a more dignified fashion.

We will be home in a little over a week. The summer flew by so fast! We have had a great time and I am so glad it worked out for us to come to Washington for an extended visit.

Eugenics, Abortion, and Us

Ebeneezer Scrooge, while watching Tiny Tim in a vision, to the Spirit of Christmas Present: "If he be like to die, he had better do it, and decrease the surplus population."

Later, the Spirit to Scrooge: "Will you decide what men shall live, what men shall die? It may be, that in the sight of Heaven, you are more worthless and less fit to live than millions like this poor man's child."

* * *

At the beginning of the year I wrote about Nancy Pelosi making it very clear that poor children are draining the economy and that Planned Parenthood in low-income areas will help staunch the flow of government spending. Ruth Bader Ginsburg made similar comments a few weeks back. I've had conversations with friends in the past year where they've expressed the same sentiment: abortion is bad, but maybe it keeps people who would have a bad life from coming into the world.

So who has a bad life? Who drains the economy?

Eugenics is the practice of human breeding. Positive eugenics involves encouraging the supposedly healthy, wealthy, and bright to have children-- not too many, but just enough to push their genes into the next generation and still give their kids the best life possible. Negative eugenics is about preventing "undesirable" people from procreating; this is most horrifically exemplified with Margaret Sanger's "Negro Project" which forced sterilization on thousands of black women in the rural south. Sanger was a strong supporter of eugenics and believed her Planned Parenthood centers would encourage more and more poor black, disabled, mentally troubled people to have fewer and fewer children.

Have we come so far since then or has Sanger and the other early 20th century eugenicists dream of a "better" race of people started to take form?

Disabled children are often headed off at the OB/GYN or the geneticist's office. The amnio that will "help you decide before its too late" should there be something "wrong" and the IVF that ensures only a "good" egg implants is probably why, in some places, the number of Down Syndrome births has been halved. Is this a victory for the human race?

Poor children have people like the speaker of the house and supreme court justices against them. A friend of a friend recently had an abortion at her doctor's suggestion. She explained that although the couple was in their mid twenties, were married, and both held jobs the fact that they were on Medicaid showed they were not financially ready for children. Like the line from Judd Apatow's "Knocked Up," everyone encouraged them to wait for a "real" baby, one that would have all the material provisions needed to be successful. And so the couple aborted their first child.

* * *

A better generation of people-- a smarter, healthier, whiter, wealthier, less expensive generation of people--- is that what would make things better? Is it possible that in supporting abortion we encourage the ideas of Margaret Sanger and the ideals of eugenicists to live on in the minds of other people who hate?

Marriage and Time

Sink your teeth into this piece by Caitlin Flanagan from Time. Its about marriage in the States. Flanagan does a good job of bringing together recent media bits about marriage with the cold hard facts.

I enjoyed two of the photo collections linked into the articles as well, the one of couples married 50+ years and the "very special wedding" taken of a Down Syndrome couple's Hindu and Christian weddings. Sadly, though, the Down Syndrome duet has sworn off children, a hint at the eugenics issue, which will be my next post...

Toss Salad and Scrambled Eggs

A lighter post-- I was going to write about eugenics, but I'll put a little fluff in between the heavy stuff this time.

So yesterday we trekked up to Seattle with the fam for the Bite of Seattle festival. There are few re-creative activities in this world that I think are better than a food fair!

We took the light rail from Tukwila and I am proud to say we were among the first passengers to ever do so as it was the opening day (which also meant no charge for the day). The kids watching the traffic and scenery from the big railcar windows. Once in Seattle we took the monorail to the square below the Space Needle.

The food tents were set up around a giant fountain. The walkway around the fountain spirals down so people can sit on the dry concrete or go down to play in the water. The day was hot so there were tons of kids running around in bathing suits. It reminded me a bit of the World's Fair park in Flushing Meadows but with a much more ethnically diverse crowd and a waaaay more laid back feeling to the affair.

So the food-- oh my glory the food! The three of us went off on our own to sample what the vendors had to offer and we ate:

A chicken gyro-- tender bread, thinly sliced and perfectly seasoned chicken, great yogurt sauce
Gyoza-- this was mostly for Lucy, a favorite of hers and very tasty
Calamari-- like butter, not chewy at all, with the perfect amount of salt and lemon
Jerk chicken-- spicy and sweet though hard to enjoy when I realized there was no johnny cake :(
Frozen custard-- enough said
Frozen yogurt with fresh fruit-- again for the baby and what I ate was great as it tasted just like thick, tangy greek yogurt
Cinnamon roasted almonds
Thai tea
Samples of a dozen different sodas and juices

By the end of the day we were stuffed. The kids ran around in the fountain while we all sat back and digested. If you are ever in the area and can make it to the Bite of Seattle (or the Taste of Tacoma) I highly recommend it.

Groucho and Grandparents: Another Rant

"Age is not a particularly interesting subject. Anyone can get old.
All you have to do is live long enough." -Groucho Marx

Helping out my husband's grandmother has got me thinking about being old. When do you become old? We hear adages like "you are as young as you act" or "you are only as old as you think you are" in reference to the latter years. And in some instances it is wrong to mention the word as it has been heaped on the pile with "poor," "foreign," and others.

And isn't that the funny part of it all? Most people want to avoid making elderly people feel bad by calling them old but they certainly don't want to participate in their daily care. In fact, many are of the mindset these days that suicide is a caring alternative to life when the pains of growing older become a lot to bear. Now I don't necessarily agree with the aforementioned sayings in all instances-- yes, sometimes you let yourself get old before your time. But some people are stuck with crippling illnesses, depression, and loneliness that, despite their best efforts, knock back the desire to act and think young. But I am only 25 so what do I really know about life being preferable to death wrought at your own hands?

Just as with feminism, care for the environment, migrant workers, all the people-centric "issues" I get so ornery about, we often miss the point. We talk about rights and liberties, which I strongly believe are small matters when compared to a person's dignity. You can give an elderly person all their rights-- Alan's grandma can vote, protest, draw social security, sign up for Medicare, participate in commerce, drive, work, marry. But what good would all these supposed freedoms be if she wasn't treated with dignity by those around her? People are liberated when they are respected for being people rather than being useful. Our founding fathers missed that one, we as Christians too often forget it, and when it comes to the elderly it is seldom treated as the main issue.

Dignity folks-- get in touch with the old people in your life (even if you are old yourself) and give them some respect.

(And while we're at it-- here is a post from my grandfather, an almost-octogenarian who I not only respect but also tend to agree with on some political matters)

233 years later...

Yesterday we celebrated the 4th as best we could. I always try to pick out some positive points to contemplate each Independence Day, stop short of dwelling on the bad, and forget it all to enjoy food and fireworks.

We went to a picnic with Alan's siblings & co. and had a nice time-- in the morning we marched in the Steilacoom parade (it is a lovely old pioneer-type town that overlooks the Sound), Lucy and her cousin Sophia waving to the onlookers. Then we hung out at the hostess' house, eating tasty food and watching the kids run around. In an effort to be environmentally conscience everyone brought their own reusable plates and cups, nothing disposable (which was great, though I could have lived without hearing the words "green" and "footprint" a dozen times as it is a sad reminder of most people's ecotrendiness).

When we got back to Tacoma the three of us spent some time at Grandma's and I stayed up with her to see the fireworks in New York on TV. After Lucy was in bed Alan and I sat out to watch the fireworks over the tops of the trees. Despite a hefty fine granted those in Tacoma proper that set off firworks we saw hundreds of them go up (with the sounds of police sirens heading in the direction of the bigger displays). Just a little f-you to the law I suppose, which I have to admire when it is done in good fun and happens on the 4th of July.

Pho Sure

We are settling in to our temporary home here a little more each day. Spent the last week doing a lot of visiting-- seeing Alan's sister's new home out in the country, taking walks around the neighborhood with Grandma, hanging out with Alan's triplet cousins. The immediate family and a few friends came over yesterday for Alan's birthday (yes folks, he's 31 now).

Last week we took the bus to the mall and it was surprisingly easy; I guess we live by a good bus route. We've had pho a couple times (today included because I have a nasty cold-- if chicken soup soothes a cold pho kicks it to the curb) and have taken our biweekly trips to Half Price Books.

We can see Mt. Rainier from the upstairs bedroom, by the way. That and all the flowers and trees makes Tacoma a nice place to be as far as cities go. We are looking forward to another week of kicking back, getting a little work and reading done, and thoroughly enjoying ourselves.

Ever play Oregon Trail? I was a fan of the first, crummy version where you watched a little pair of oxen pull a little bumpy wagon past the same four mountains and rocks over and over again. The wagon wheels and axles would break, you'd have to ford a river and your things would get wet, there were people to bury because of dysentery and fellow travelers to trade with when hunger struck. And if you made it to the end you were given a parcel of land-- 100 acres if you did well, as few as 1 if you almost died along the way.

Well we've made it out west. There were no wagons to repair or oxen poop to deal with, thankfully. The plot given us, temporarily, is an old home on its way to being fixed up, lots of room and a little charm. With the curtains hung and the kitchen stocked (thank you in-laws) it feels a little more like home. I can't imagine the shock of the pioneers when they spent months traversing dusty, rocky terrain and then laid their eyes on the emerald city, on western Washington where everything looks velvety and green. To think we passed it all in a few short hours, places like the Rocky Mountains simply hills a mile below.

Anyhow, we are here. The weather is a bit chilly, something like the weather of upstate New York in summer. I can't complain as the last few days have been sunny with fluffy clouds. The people around town, as always, are a bit cranky but it is refreshing after the constant, cheery small talk of Kentucky (which I find both pleasant and, at times, exhausting). I will keep you all updated but no pictures-- I always promise and never post them so this time no promises at all.

Old House, New House

Our living room is filled with boxes, each one packed up with either our junk or treasures. The pictures are off the walls, the cupboards are swept out, the shed is nearly empty. This place has been our home for three years and our time in it has ended.

This duplex was built in the 1970's-- maybe the 60's?-- and couldn't be simpler. A brick square with three rooms plus a galley kitchen and bath. I've enjoyed the few features it has like a large pantry and good alignment with the sun (lots of sunlight despite few windows) but it is basically plain. Still, I'll miss the ugly brown carpets and robin's egg blue walls, the memories we've made here.

This is the first house Alan and I lived in as married people. Our worst fights and most tender times happened here. Lucy was born in this house as well, her first moments spent staring at the sand painted ceilings of our bedroom.

The house we are moving into is nearly twice the size, new, neat, nice. I am excited to live in a place that doesn't have the smell of a dozen other people rising up from the carpet on hot afternoons (ick). And with mounting student debt and years of school left, this may be the last time for a long time we have the opportunity to live in a new and spacious (affordable) place.

I will miss our little home nestled between the cows and hay just the same. It is the 12th house I've called home but will certainly stand out as one of the most memorable.

Homeschool Tidbit

Just a little more about homeschooling, a tiny vignette of personal experience in the midst of all the statistics, accusations, defenses, and justifications you find about the matter online.

When my mother told me I would not be returning to junior high in the Fall I nearly died inside. For 7 years I'd taken the bus, sat in a classroom, sweated through gym, ate lunch in a crowded cafeteria and savored the moments of recess. Now I'd be working out math and grammar on my own at the kitchen table next to my little sister? My friends! My freedom! I wanted to find a way to sneak out to school every morning anyway; maybe my mother wouldn't notice.

By October the knots of my life I didn't even know were there began to untangle. Friends? I stayed in touch with school friends and met a slew of kids who were also homeschooled. Freedom? Well, freedom was found in a babysitting job (which meant my own money!) and hours of time to do whatever the hell I wanted to do. Soon homeschooling felt less like a punishment for the supposed failures of public education and more like perpetual summer break with geography and literature thrown in.

Don't mistake this for laxness on my parent's part: I worked hard to get through all my subjects each day. But there was a new love affair with learning as I realized I could disagree with my curriculum and say so (so much for the accusation of homeschooling equaling indoctrination); I could go down rabbit trails of my choosing in history; I could finally spend hours on my blasted math books trying to fully understand algebra, no teacher moving me ahead before I was ready. And I read and read and read and read-- poetry, novels, plays, world literature, I devoured books with leisure and love.

Whatever my parent's intent may have been, I benefited from those years learning in their home.

I know, if we homeschool our children we are in for years of having to explain why we are not right wing conservatives, that you can be a homeschooler and an intellectual, that we do not wish to shield our children from some big world outside our home. But so what? Just as I'd never expect another person to sway from their educational convictions because of my own opinions, so I won't let the naysayers wear me down.

Just a Few More Things

We spent the last week in NJ, helping out my parents and visiting. We froze some meals in anticipation of my mom's treatment in the months to follow (who knows how it will effect her), cleaned a little, recovered the headliner in my Dad's car, took a trip to the hospital to discuss paperwork and such. Lucy seemed to enjoy herself so much just playing with Noni and Poppy and chasing the dog around.

So now we have a few days to pack up for our move across town, then a day to settle in before our trip to Washington. We will be in Tacoma until the end of August and I am curious to see how I'll weather a summer in the city (though summer in Tacoma means a chilly average of 65 compared to Kentucky's median 75 degrees-- brrrr!). Then it will be back to Wilmore for another year or so while Alan sends out PhD applications and learns latin.

But today is all about writing reviews, catching up on work. When I started this job a year and half ago it felt pretty terrifying, espeically leaving a salary position with set hours and such. But what the hell, it feels good sometimes to throw caution to the wind and I'd rather sing for my supper any day of the week.

"I would rather be poor in a cottage full of books than a king without the desire to read."

-Thomas Babington Macaulay

Lucy's Baptism

Lucy was baptized this Sunday! I was excited when I realized she'd be baptized during the Easter season on the day we remember the Ascension (our new goddaughters were baptized on May Crowning, which I thought was very fitting). It was great having Alan's folks here to take pictures and help with Lucy before hand.

Father Bush was cheerful, as he always seems to be when administering a sacrament. Lucy did very well-- I was nervous to say the least as she is known for pitching a fit when I rinse her hair in the bath. Her godfather, Jason, helped keep her quiet while we did the responsorial reading and Hannah, her godmother, held her for the baptism. Just a second of crying after she got a seashell full of water in her face and then she was just fine. She loved being anointed with the sweet smelling chrism.

So that's it! She didn't need to take on a "Christian" name as Alan did for his baptism, I suppose because Lucy is the name of a saint? I'll need to ask about that one. We were glad that, once again, our friends came to wish us well for the blessed event.

"Oh precious is the flow

That makes me white as snow

No other fount I know"

-Robert Lowry

Class of 2009

Alan is graduating tomorrow. After three years of hard work and perseverance, he'll be awarded with the honors due him. How annoying Hebrew was, how aggravating the late night fits of paper writing that led into morning hours! But how sweet these days will seem someday when we look back.

My prayer for Alan, as he graduates, is that he remembers the lessons of seminary in times when the world seems turned on its head. Perhaps the data-- Greek verbs, Wesleyan history, thoughts on literary criticism-- will fade as the years pass. But I hope Alan can always recall the love of God, the passion for theology, the deep understanding he fostered in himself through these years. What I've gleaned from him second hand is very valuable so I am sure his experience has been a rich one.

God bless to my brilliant husband and all the Asbury Seminary graduates who will find their journey turning a corner tomorrow.

New Ad

Fairest of All Seasons

"Now that its time
Now that the hour hand has landed at the end
Now that its real
Now that the dreams have given all they have to lend...
Its now I know, do I stay or do I go?
And it is finally I decide
That I'll be leaving in the fairest of all seasons."
-Jackson Browne

I will start writing about this now so it doesn't creep up on me later. The academic life is a nomadic one, and while we will be in Wilmore for another year some dear friends are leaving.

I do not want to say goodbye. When people have been a part of your life, helped you through the early years of marriage and parenting, celebrated the good times with you, it is not easy to think they will never again be a few minutes away.

In thinking about friendship that past few weeks, anticipating these sad departures, I began to figure out what it means to be a friend. Well, first I thought of what it means to not be a friend. I think envy and indifference are both opposed to friendship for many reasons. Being friends with someone, in the truest sense, is somewhat the opposite. You are happy for your friend's achievements, success good fortune rather than being envious; you are also sensitive to the movement of their lives rather than indifferent.

So as much as I want to be sad over my friends leaving, I have to remember what being a friend means. Knowing they are moving on to be near family, to have careers, to make their way in the world-- their happiness overwhelms my sorrow as their joys become my own. I am very glad, very blessed, to have known so many good friends in our time here, making this a very fair season indeed.

"You're so far away
Doesn't anybody stay in one place anymore?
It would be so fine to see your face at my door
Doesn't help to know you're so far away."
-Carole King

Webcam and Thoughts

We now have a webcam-- yay! We got a new laptop for a bargain and it came with this webcam (the selling point for me). I'm trying to justify it as a work purchase, but I'm more excited that the new PC will help Lucy visit, via skype, with her grandparents et al.

Today was one of those balmy, warm Kentucky days. The afternoon was humid and broke through to some showers. Before the rain, Lucy and I sat on the front steps to each lunch. We talked about the sky and birds and ants, even giving the ant a few orange niblets to see what they did. Lucy kept trying to tell me they were bees.

It was one of those days with lots of news, some sad and frustrating, some happy and full of resolution. And I feel God's grace coming over me, that in the midst of all that's been going on in our lives I can enjoy lunch with my daughter, take in a muggy afternoon, watch the ants as they work.

Amazing Race

Alan and I are watching the Amazing Race finale right now. Every year, my favorite teams are bumped off early, leaving me with no one to root for on the last leg of the race. This year my team made it all the way to last week only to check in late because one of them had to pee!

Now, my little open note to all the teams:

Keisha and Jen, if you are out there on the Internet somewhere, I was with you guys all the way but next time, pee your pants. Its the Amazing Race for goodness sake!

And to Margie and Luke: you guys are awful. I hope everyone sees now what a brat Luke is and how he elbowed Keisha in the face at that one clue box. Y'all don't play fair and should be ashamed.

End of note.

I'm being forced to cheer on the NFL cheerleaders-- at least they'd be the first two-woman team to win the race. They hate people who don't speak English, however (in China: "Why don't these people speak English! They're so stupid!). But you know me, I'll be watching again next season for sure.

Thoughts on Hate Crimes, Private Matters

So much talk about pastors and priests being jailed for hate crimes. Priests with friends in Canada say "It is happening, they are being fined for what they say about the Bible." Lawyers and politicians argue "No, a hate crime bill in the US will not effect what people say, only what they do."

I understand the outrage at crimes committed against a person because of something they cannot help like their gender, race, age, or possible physical impairments. When I was a child, a man with Down's Syndrome in my town was beaten by a bunch of football players from the high school-- all he was doing was handing out candy on Halloween. The anger that burned in me then, and even still does now, increases at the thought of this man's life being difficult already and the idea that he was less capable than most grown men at defending himself.

But speaking in church can be a hate crime? Again, I can understand to some extent. I'm Catholic now-- do you know how many sermons are preached in Protestant churches each Sunday about how all Catholics are evil? I've suffered through more sermons than I can count about Mother Theresa burning in hell because her faith was based on witchery. But I don't believe those preachers should be censored. I can't even support people who want to silence the Imams who preach that Muslims should conquer the US. I could never assume a law will control someone's mind, nor would I want it to.

I hope the people's right to free speech isn't jeopardized. I'm stunned that in a day when the president talks about how euthanasia and aborting a disabled child are "private matters" there is so much talk about prosecuting people for they say in the privacy of their place of worship.

(And once again, Richard Dawkin's organization proves obsessed with the habits of Christians, more so than even I am! They have a lot to say about this matter. His website is as pathetic as the fundamentalist pages that devote themselves to the minutia of the science community just to say "They are so wrong." Why do Dawkins' people waste so much energy thinking about these things? Shouldn't they be out engineering crap and making vaccinations?)

all about today

I haven't blogged about my day in a while.

Well, Lucy just got over a nasty stomach bug, so today was the first day in almost a week we could really venture out. Lucy and I ran a ton of errands, ate a little Sonic, let Alan do his Hebrew homework.

When we were all home, I got an itch to get my hair cut. After 3 years of cutting my hair myself I decided it was high time to let a professional at it. Well, almost a professional. For $10 and a decent tip I had it washed, cut, and styled by a student at the local beauty school. I narrowly avoided a mullet and am happy with the results.

Then we went to Ramsey's with Meredith and Chad for some good food and conversation-- the catfish was phenomenal, as always, and Lucy loved the apple fritters.

Now I'm getting ready to relax while Alan is at the movies watching X-Men and Lucy sleeps soundly. 20/20 and my fake mojito are all I need for a nice, easy Friday night.

Dr. Oz to Oprah: "Actually, you're wrong."

[Note: you can see a better report of the minimarathon and pictures of the day here at Meredith's blog]

Here is a little incident that Oprah, Michael J. Fox, and the media are trying to forget.

A few weeks ago Fox was on Oprah's show to tell his story of having Parkinson's. He is a big supporter of embryonic stem cell research, claiming he trusts the science community to preform stem cell extractions ethically (what great faith he has). She, too, is vocal about the necessity of embryonic stem cell research.

So of course anything medical that Oprah features warrants a visit from Dr. Oz, her resident health expert and regular guest. Yet Dr. Oz didn't agree with either Oprah or Fox. Rather, he let them know he was going to rattle some cages by saying adult stem cells are the answer for regenerating damaged and diseased tissue.

Oz told us what so many advocates of adult stem cells already know: embryonic stem cells can turn into anything once in the body (even cancerous tumors), adult stem cells don't seem to have a rejection rate, and there are several cases of people's own tissue being used to treat their injuries or illnesses.

Him saying this made Oprah and Michael J. Fox look irritated to say the least and it is no surprise Oprah.com chopped up Dr. Oz's statements to make it seem like he was speaking of stem cells in general rather than adult vs. embryonic stem cells.

I encourage you to see the clip for yourself, make of it what you will. Just wanted to let people know since you will not likely hear about it in the news.

Half Sarathon (I can't help it...)

Nearly 6 months of waiting and running came to an end this morning when I ran the minimarathon in Louisville.

Friends Meredith and Amberly kindly took care of the details (like booking a hotel room, picking a place to eat, driving) so I was pampered through the experience to say the least. We ate Italian, carbo loaded with lots of pasta and gnocchi, and turned in early. I could hardly sleep because I was so nervous.

Early this morning we made our way down town to take a shuttle bus to the starting line. So many people were there! I believe 12,000 people showed. Despite trying hard to keep a steady pace, I was swept up in the crowd and ran 11- 12 minute miles the first 6 miles-- after that I was so beat I slowed considerably. There were a ton of hills in the beginning and it was high in the 80's which didn't help the situation. But I drank lots of water, tried to stay upbeat, and persevered to the end.

The last few miles were difficult-- I felt like the bones in my feet were going to bust through my shoes. But how you can you slow down when the finish line is so close? Our friends were there to cheer Meredith and me on which was very encouraging.

At the very end I rounded the corner for the last stretch and went crazy! I was hootin and hollerin as I tore it up towards that finish line, I was so glad to see the end and knew I'd finished. My end time was 3hrs 13mins; not a great time, but only a little over my goal of 3 hours.

Will I do it again, people have asked? Maybe. I'd prefer to spend the summer working on my speed, maybe do some 5 and 10Ks instead as I do enjoy the experience of a race. It is simply wonderful to be able to say that I, the person who once couldn't run a half mile without collapsing, have run 13.1 miles and run them well.

Go West Young Man!

I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,

To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover

And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over. -John Maesfield, "Sea-Fever"

***

"I wish I were driving out on the freeway

Beneath a graveyard, western sky." -Counting Crows

Just a little post to expound on the fleetingness of life. I can see how many people look back on their lives and regret. After all, time moves so quickly-- if there is no joy, no depth, no learning of the virtues within those moments than life will seem not just fast moving but also empty. And there is something magical about loving people, about loving God, that sometimes slows down the days enough that you can really take it in and enjoy. Trips to see loved ones, school, our time living in a particular place all wind down to a close eventually, but we thank the Lord who makes all things new that the end of one time is the beginning of another.

Pictures of Washington and an update on all we've been deciding (and its a lot) in a short while, I promise.

Until we rest in Thee

There was a time in my late teens when I felt on the edge of a deep precipice that threatened to swallow me up if I stepped too close. Doubt, hatred, despair clouded my heart and mind and I believed any last shred of faith was taken from me. I found myself unable to believe in the incarnation, in the life everlasting, the resurrection of the dead, the salvation of my own soul.

I quickly became tired of asking questions and getting answers that didn’t satisfy. So I took a little spiritual sabbatical. I prayed the last prayer I’d pray for a long season, asking God to reveal himself if he was indeed there at all.

And so began my dance back towards the arms of the Church. People kept telling me to draw nearer to God, to pray harder, to worship louder. But now I don’t think that’s what was missing in my devotion—in fact, I was devoid of any love for or relationship with the people of God. I was taught my whole life that all I needed was my Bible and the Spirit to guide me and I could be perfectly happy. We were all little John the Baptists in the wilderness, just us and God and no need for another soul.

How wrong they were! And even Jesus’ cousin John had his people, he was still a Jew in community and had disciples despite our idea of him as a loner. So after nearly 8 years of journeying, on Holy Saturday I was brought back into the assembly to participate fully in the sacramental life.

* * *

Father Bush lit the Easter fire outside and we all lit our own little candles from the light of the fire. In darkness, we entered the church. Father George chanted beautifully about the attributes of God, his love, mercy, and blessings for us. Thankfully our friends were able to keep Lucy quiet and happy during the entire mass (something even Alan and I haven’t quite figured out how to do…).

There were several readings and responsorial songs, then a brief homily from Father Bush about Christ as our Alpha and Omega, our beginning and our end.

Alan was baptized and he looked so pleased! We all renewed our baptismal promises as a congregation.

Our confirmation was simple and lovely. After affirming that we as catechumen and candidates were ready to accept the creeds and responsibilities of being Catholic, Father Bush anointed us with chrism and blessed us. We each received a scapular from the Church (along with an icon of Saint Luke from Fr. Bush, Easter tulips, and gifts from our sponsors and friends—we were lavished on to say the least). We then took our First Holy Communion, something I’d been anxiously awaiting for a whole year.

Thank you so much to all our friends who supported us: to Dru and Adam for watching Lucy every week so we could attend RCIA, to Pamm and Tom for sponsoring us, to Jason and Hannah for taking the journey with us, and to all who encouraged us along the way. And thanks to Mark, Fr. Bush, and Deacon Burns for teaching our classes, giving us a thorough and enjoyable catechism. We are blessed to be received into the Church at St. Luke’s, which I believe to be a very devoted, orthodox, and caring parish.

* * *

That’s hardly the end of things—I still have questions, will always wrestle with doubts, will struggle with the problems that the Church faces. But I know the Lord is with me and, should I ever feel fallen away again, His people and sacraments are there.

“A promise or a dare
I would jump if I knew you'd catch me
Staring over the edge
I can't tell if you'll be here for me

I close my eyes and make a wish
Turn out the lights and take a breath
Pray that when the wick is burned
You would say that it's all about love

You were there when I needed you
You were there when the skies broke wide, wide open.”

–Jars of Clay