My husband is a big fan of the Mash episodes from the past. He tends to watch a couple of these programs each day. I consider the series more a man's interest than a woman's, but--as I was waiting for the local news--one of the endings last week caught my attention. The chaplain was presenting a sermon before one of the important hierarchical members of the church. He haltingly said something like, "God created us so that He could exist with us." I have read the idea before in various spiritual books, but I began thinking more about the truth of the idea. I went back to the book of Genesis and re-read the creation story a couple of times. We know that God has emotions because we as humans have them, and we are created in His image. Also, the Old Testament and the New Testament indicate that He has the emotions of love, anger, and so on depending upon what humans are up to at any given point. I am always surprised, however, to think of God's greatness contrasted to our puny juvenile behaviors and to realize that God actually wants to exist with us. He wants to pursue a relationship with us and be our Friend.
Traditional teaching within the evangelical church says that God has always co-existed with Jesus and the Holy Spirit. It is the Holy Spirit, we believe as Christians, that lives within us to give us gentle reminders that we need to emulate Christ through caring for those who are the weakest in society, reminding us of the need for confession when we hurt others or ourselves, and sharing the Word of God with others who might not be believers. We do not hear that much in our churches, however, about God's creating us for fellowship with Him.
It stands to reason that, if God perceived that the first man was lonely and should not be alone, that He Himself also had that emotional need for love, friends, and respect. Reason tells us we should give Him that honor every day through our praise and worship. We fail so often though to include Him even in our thoughts. I have developed a new respect for the truths presented in Mash.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Monday, July 13, 2009
Clicking Those Red Heels Together Again
It was the day before July 3, late Friday afternoon when political bombshells tend to go undetected into the night, that Sarah Palin came out into the front yard of her home to announce her resignation as governor of Alaska. We have seen her many times in her red jacket and her red high heels, and it has become her signature look. Once more, she clicked her heels together and repeated, like Dorothy, "there's no place like home." This is not the first time.
When she was a member of the Oil and Gas Conservation Commission, she decided she could not make the reforms she needed and resigned her position in protest of her colleagues' actions. That move gave her an opportunity to present her platform and run for Governor of state.
Much analysis has been given by the media over the past ten days as to the motives behind Palin's move. She has been called "crazy like a fox" by commentator Bill Kristol who thinks her resignation could perhaps be a smart political move. Most commentators though have simply called her "crazy" and speak of her rambling, almost incoherent, statement as proof of her unworthiness to move forward politically.
For the past year, I have wanted to give Sarah Palin a chance. I have closed my eyes to the disastrous interview with Katie Couric, the "ya know" speech patterns, and the lack of knowledge about world events. What I cannot forgive, however, is a conservative woman who simply quits. Perhaps it is because of my rearing (as Churchill said, "never give in") that I refuse to forgive this move. As a more liberal woman in a conservative environment during my working career, I learned early on that we women must be able to withstand the opposition both from men-- -and other women, who can be even worse enemies. Yes, our frienemies can be as destructive as our true opponents.
If we women are honest, we all wish we could click our heels and return home again--without the stress of dealing with difficult problems, without hearing our families criticized, and without insinuations about our ethics. We simply cannot be leaders and changemakers, however, without the will to persevere.
When she was a member of the Oil and Gas Conservation Commission, she decided she could not make the reforms she needed and resigned her position in protest of her colleagues' actions. That move gave her an opportunity to present her platform and run for Governor of state.
Much analysis has been given by the media over the past ten days as to the motives behind Palin's move. She has been called "crazy like a fox" by commentator Bill Kristol who thinks her resignation could perhaps be a smart political move. Most commentators though have simply called her "crazy" and speak of her rambling, almost incoherent, statement as proof of her unworthiness to move forward politically.
For the past year, I have wanted to give Sarah Palin a chance. I have closed my eyes to the disastrous interview with Katie Couric, the "ya know" speech patterns, and the lack of knowledge about world events. What I cannot forgive, however, is a conservative woman who simply quits. Perhaps it is because of my rearing (as Churchill said, "never give in") that I refuse to forgive this move. As a more liberal woman in a conservative environment during my working career, I learned early on that we women must be able to withstand the opposition both from men-- -and other women, who can be even worse enemies. Yes, our frienemies can be as destructive as our true opponents.
If we women are honest, we all wish we could click our heels and return home again--without the stress of dealing with difficult problems, without hearing our families criticized, and without insinuations about our ethics. We simply cannot be leaders and changemakers, however, without the will to persevere.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Nagivating a Frozen River
I just watched the film Frozen River with Melissa Leo in her academy award nominated role. Her role portrayed with poignancy the dilemma facing many families in America today--poverty and the ethics connected with being able to provide for one's family. Ray, Leo's character, is the mother of two boys and living with a runaway husband, who takes with him the little money they had saved for a double-wide mobile home. The home represents her dream to have a three bedroom place of her home. Unfortunately, she makes a series of bad decisions relating to illegal immigration in order to get money for the final balloon payment. As a professional person, I would like to say that I have never needed to consider what I might do in such an instance. I would like to say that is true, but it is not.
Since my mother was a single working mom, I had seen her struggle through the years financially. Many times as a child I got up in the morning to see the tips on the kitchen table--rarely a dollar among them--couched in a sea of small change: quarters, dimes, nickles, and even pennies. These tips were basically our source of daily income. To my knowledge, my mother was always honest in her life with the use of her money. I do remember, however, that she did take gifts from her boyfriends through the years--groceries, Christmas presents for my sister and me, dancing lessons for a short time for me, and so on.
My husband and I chose to work in non-profit institutions for the majority of our working careers, and we knew that making ends meet would sometimes be a challenge. One Christmas when we were the most cash poor, I remember driving around in Fayetteville two days before the holiday and considering pawning my wedding set in order to provide gifts for the children. I eventually wrote a hot check for what I wanted to buy in a small shopping center. Since the check was for over $100, I figured I would be turned down once a call was made to the bank. It happened though that the clerk was one of my former students who simply put the check into the drawer without that call. I guess he at least saw me as a person who would never violate his trust. I knew that my husband's check would be in the bank the day after the holiday, and it would be covered.
For mothers and dads in the U. S. today, it is a particularly difficult time since the "greatest recession since the Depression" continues to plague our economy. Blue collar and white collar crime rates are increasing on a daily basis. We do not have any assurance from the government that the recession will end soon. I pray daily for these mothers and fathers who need jobs and ways to support their children. They need somehow to be able to nagivate the frozen economic river engulfing them.
Since my mother was a single working mom, I had seen her struggle through the years financially. Many times as a child I got up in the morning to see the tips on the kitchen table--rarely a dollar among them--couched in a sea of small change: quarters, dimes, nickles, and even pennies. These tips were basically our source of daily income. To my knowledge, my mother was always honest in her life with the use of her money. I do remember, however, that she did take gifts from her boyfriends through the years--groceries, Christmas presents for my sister and me, dancing lessons for a short time for me, and so on.
My husband and I chose to work in non-profit institutions for the majority of our working careers, and we knew that making ends meet would sometimes be a challenge. One Christmas when we were the most cash poor, I remember driving around in Fayetteville two days before the holiday and considering pawning my wedding set in order to provide gifts for the children. I eventually wrote a hot check for what I wanted to buy in a small shopping center. Since the check was for over $100, I figured I would be turned down once a call was made to the bank. It happened though that the clerk was one of my former students who simply put the check into the drawer without that call. I guess he at least saw me as a person who would never violate his trust. I knew that my husband's check would be in the bank the day after the holiday, and it would be covered.
For mothers and dads in the U. S. today, it is a particularly difficult time since the "greatest recession since the Depression" continues to plague our economy. Blue collar and white collar crime rates are increasing on a daily basis. We do not have any assurance from the government that the recession will end soon. I pray daily for these mothers and fathers who need jobs and ways to support their children. They need somehow to be able to nagivate the frozen economic river engulfing them.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Remembering Past Help
One of the books I have been reading lately is Kathryn Stockett's The Help. Stockett is a native of Mississippi, and her novel features the relationships among several Southern white and black women. Aibileen and Minny are the "help" in white households in 1962. Skeeter and Celia are the white women who awaken to the idea of a shared humanity. The novel has made me also reflect upon the only time my husband and I employed "help" in the 1960's.
It was 1969, and our daughter was four months old. We hired Lura to be Kimberly's nanny and to do light housework while I did my student teaching in a town about forty miles to the west of us. I have to confess that my life was quite full with all the responsibilities that go along with being a wife, mother, student, and budding teacher. It never occurred to me to develop any kind of relationship with the "help" or even to know anything at all about her personal life. I now see that period as being a lost time; Lura--I am sure--had many thoughts about the racial strife and the civil rights movement that were currently rocking the state.
I never bothered to ask Lura's point of view, and I am not sure she would have opened up if I had. The majority of blacks knew that speaking up about racial issues could put one in danger of being considered "uppity." Even though America has always been the place for personal freedom, the South still limited free speech and action in regard to black-white relationships at this time of our history. I regret that I did not try, however, to see Lura's point of view. The "help" might have helped me to understand more.
It was 1969, and our daughter was four months old. We hired Lura to be Kimberly's nanny and to do light housework while I did my student teaching in a town about forty miles to the west of us. I have to confess that my life was quite full with all the responsibilities that go along with being a wife, mother, student, and budding teacher. It never occurred to me to develop any kind of relationship with the "help" or even to know anything at all about her personal life. I now see that period as being a lost time; Lura--I am sure--had many thoughts about the racial strife and the civil rights movement that were currently rocking the state.
I never bothered to ask Lura's point of view, and I am not sure she would have opened up if I had. The majority of blacks knew that speaking up about racial issues could put one in danger of being considered "uppity." Even though America has always been the place for personal freedom, the South still limited free speech and action in regard to black-white relationships at this time of our history. I regret that I did not try, however, to see Lura's point of view. The "help" might have helped me to understand more.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
A Boy on a Boat in the Universe
One of the books I have enjoyed reading recently is Joseph O'Neill's Netherland. Essentially, it is the story of the strange friendship between two men from different cultures in New York. The novel tells its story through a series of flashbacks. At one point, the narrator speaks of a time in his boyhood when he was taken fishing by his uncles. As night descended, he remembered being in a boat and looking up at the heavens to see myriads and myriads of stars, giving him the feeling that he was merely "a boy on a boat in the universe." Who among us has not also shared that same experience at various times in our lives, yet the experience always raises questions about our identity and our purpose.
Unbelievers would say that we are merely pawns in some large, yet to be understood universe. Since we are such tiny parts of it, we cannot possibly believe in a personal God who actually cares about us and our needs.
Evangelical Christians, however, believe the Bible when it tells us that we are "fearfully and wonderfully made" (Psalm 139: 14) in His image. The following passage tells us that He knew us and loved us from the very beginning of our creation: "Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in Your book they all were written, The days fashioned for me." Evangelicals believe that God has a wonderful and special plan for each of our lives.
Like most thinkers in the universe, the story I choose to believe is the latter. My rationale is simple: if God can create a universe as vast as the one in which we are all a part, why can He not also design us to be people with which he can personally communicate, protect, and shelter? Perhaps the idea can best be represented by Manet's painting of The Grand Canal, Venice in which the boatman almost blends into the background of the buildings behind, yet his presence still guides the path of the boat through the water.
Unbelievers would say that we are merely pawns in some large, yet to be understood universe. Since we are such tiny parts of it, we cannot possibly believe in a personal God who actually cares about us and our needs.
Evangelical Christians, however, believe the Bible when it tells us that we are "fearfully and wonderfully made" (Psalm 139: 14) in His image. The following passage tells us that He knew us and loved us from the very beginning of our creation: "Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in Your book they all were written, The days fashioned for me." Evangelicals believe that God has a wonderful and special plan for each of our lives.
Like most thinkers in the universe, the story I choose to believe is the latter. My rationale is simple: if God can create a universe as vast as the one in which we are all a part, why can He not also design us to be people with which he can personally communicate, protect, and shelter? Perhaps the idea can best be represented by Manet's painting of The Grand Canal, Venice in which the boatman almost blends into the background of the buildings behind, yet his presence still guides the path of the boat through the water.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Softly and Tenderly
I have been thinking about conflict resolution this week after seeing an interview with Rosie O'Donnell on television recently. When asked by the interviewer to reflect upon her recent very public spats with Donald Trump and co-host on The View, Elisabeth Hasselbeck, she basically said she had learned that shouting never accomplishes anything since people don't listen. The best way to convey one's point, she said, was to speak softly and to use reason in an argument. For Rosie, that was quite a bit of self insight and growth I believe. I wish now that others could gain the same self-awareness.
Growing up with a mother who was a shouter, I can also testify that her style of communication was truly ineffective. I simply turned off and often retreated into a closet to hide for a few hours until peace in the house was restored. It is easy for one generation to lead another generation into the same forms of behavior. I have learned, unfortunately late in my life, that I could simply speak softly and tenderly in order to make my point. I am trying to convince my grandchildren, ages six and ten, that the cycle of shouting at one another can also be broken.
It almost seems this week that even the Republicans are beginning to also understand this lesson. After a lot of initial shouting about the nomination of Hispanic Sonia Sotomayor for the position of Supreme Court Justice, they are beginning to tone down their arguments and speak in reaonable voices. They have now discovered, after initially jumping to several wrong conclusions since they did not read her record, that she might indeed be a friend on the abortion issue since she is a Catholic.
Loud voices reflect immaturity; a soft answer can indeed turn away wrath.
Growing up with a mother who was a shouter, I can also testify that her style of communication was truly ineffective. I simply turned off and often retreated into a closet to hide for a few hours until peace in the house was restored. It is easy for one generation to lead another generation into the same forms of behavior. I have learned, unfortunately late in my life, that I could simply speak softly and tenderly in order to make my point. I am trying to convince my grandchildren, ages six and ten, that the cycle of shouting at one another can also be broken.
It almost seems this week that even the Republicans are beginning to also understand this lesson. After a lot of initial shouting about the nomination of Hispanic Sonia Sotomayor for the position of Supreme Court Justice, they are beginning to tone down their arguments and speak in reaonable voices. They have now discovered, after initially jumping to several wrong conclusions since they did not read her record, that she might indeed be a friend on the abortion issue since she is a Catholic.
Loud voices reflect immaturity; a soft answer can indeed turn away wrath.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Death of a Princess
I remember Ciera as a beautiful young girl with dark hair and dark eyes. Her family background had been a bit rough. At the time I met her she was seven years old, and her single mother had planned to marry a young friend of our family. From the very beginning of her life it seems, she had a dream--to grow up and meet Prince Charming, have children, and have a happy life. She frequently participated in beauty contests as a young girl with all the frills in dress, makeup, and behavior on the runway that is expected. Her dream ended last week when, at the age of twenty, her boyfriend broke down the bedroom door of the place they shared and shot her two times. She was nine months pregnant with a baby boy. The father then turned the gun on himself and committed suicide. It was another reminder to me that fairy tales rarely come true.
Once more I find myself conflicted about the freely available guns that we have access to in America. We all know that relationships can be volatile, and I have never been quite convinced that having guns for protection outweighs the possibility of gun violence within the home from arguments, from accidents related to cleaning, from children finding guns within the home, and so on. I think, of course, that we need to keep the conversation going regarding gun control issues.
Our family will likely never know the full story behind Ciera's death. We know that she argued a lot with the people who were close to her. We don't know if she felt she had really found her Prince Charming, or if she was just anxious to make her dream seem to come true. We don't know how her boyfriend felt about becoming a father while still unmarried. Unfortunately, we do know that murder-suicides are much more common than we would hope.
Tomorrow we will attend Ciera's funeral. Our thoughts and prayers will be with her extended family. We hear that she will be buried with her child in her arms. Will we ever be able to stop violence to women who somehow transgress a man's expectations?
Once more I find myself conflicted about the freely available guns that we have access to in America. We all know that relationships can be volatile, and I have never been quite convinced that having guns for protection outweighs the possibility of gun violence within the home from arguments, from accidents related to cleaning, from children finding guns within the home, and so on. I think, of course, that we need to keep the conversation going regarding gun control issues.
Our family will likely never know the full story behind Ciera's death. We know that she argued a lot with the people who were close to her. We don't know if she felt she had really found her Prince Charming, or if she was just anxious to make her dream seem to come true. We don't know how her boyfriend felt about becoming a father while still unmarried. Unfortunately, we do know that murder-suicides are much more common than we would hope.
Tomorrow we will attend Ciera's funeral. Our thoughts and prayers will be with her extended family. We hear that she will be buried with her child in her arms. Will we ever be able to stop violence to women who somehow transgress a man's expectations?
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