An Elusive Dream

We all know that as Americans we are blessed with tremendous advantages that most of the world cannot enjoy. Among those are freedom to be who we want to be, multiple ways to be happy, and economic opportunities galore. I often wonder what life would be like had I not be born an American. Many in our nation today are experiencing that reality. They are the children of illegal immigrants who arrived in America without citizenship. They have lived here for many years, and often they cannot speak their native language any more. They are primarily Hispanic. They are pursuing an elusive dream for full citizenship in the U.S.

Before the vote in Congress on the DREAM act, many discussions took place on television and radio on the topic. I listened to one such talk show on NPR, "Talk of the Nation," on the afternoon of Dec. 16. Host Neal Conan was totally convinced that the act would be defeated and, in my opinion, rudely said so to one of his guests named David. The listener would hear the disappointment in David's voice; it was almost to the stage of depression. Conan turned out to be correct; the vote was lost by five.

As is my personality temperament, I can see and sympathize with both sides of the argument. Opponents of the act say it is simply amnesty and bypasses those who have been waiting for years for citizenship or permanent residency. My son's friend just received her green card after twelve years in the country. On the other hand, I believe I could also argue for the opposing viewpoint. Conservatives tend to say that their argument for pro life centers on the idea that the child is not responsible for the decision of the parents. Yet they cannot seem to extend the same argument to children of illegal immigrants. I cannot imagine not being a full resident of the country I have grown up in and love. Why not extend grace to those who would serve our country in the military or who would have a chance to earn college degrees? While the vote was relatively close this time, I believe the elusive dream will become a reality in the near future.

Parenting 1 - 2 -3 -4

My husband and I have just returned from a three-day visit with my father-in-law who resides in an assisted-living facility in Wichita. P-Pa (as our children called him through the years) is now ninety-three and a half. We were a bit surprised as we told him goodbye that he had no idea who we were. The memory and knowledge though in our minds of who he is remains just as strong as ever.

As I think about the types of parents (and grandparents) in the world, I would probably classify my own father as a type one. He is the parent, due to his alcoholism and an early divorce from my mother, who supplied the biological sperm for my conception but little else. I barely remember him, and the times he came into our lives were usually always negative. He was there to ask for money to get to the next location. On one occasion, however, I remember somehow that he came to my cousin Betty Jean's house for either Thanksgiving or Chrismas dinner. I was about thirteen I think. It seemed to be uncomfortable for all of us.

The type of parent my father-in-law is reflects type two. He is the parent who provided what the family needed from a physical standpoint. He worked at Boeing Aircraft for most of his adult life as a draftsman. While he provided food for the family as well as shelter, he did not provide any emotional sustenance. He fit the stereotype of fathers from the past who simply "brought home the bacon." He did not understand the need of his twelve-year-old son for a ten-speed bike with racing tires for Christmas. Instead he gave him a one-speed Green Hornet with rubber tires for his newspaper route. In most ways, my husband and I both had absentee fathers.

My husband and I have most likely been type three parents. By this, I mean we provided as much support spiritually, emotionally, and physically for our children as possible, but we had expectations and goals set before them in order to receive our love. We loved conditionally. Since our parents were not ideal, we wanted our children to receive everything we did not have as children. When our daughter told us she was a lesbian, I wanted to withdraw love until she decided to be otherwise. Obviously, that was not a successful parenting strategy.

In my opinion, the truly ideal type of parent is type four. This parent loves and loves and loves. This parents sets no conditions when chldren reveal that they are not living up to expectations, goals, and dreams of their parents. I believe that is the type of love called "agape" in the Greek language and exhibits the love that many of us would like to exhibit. It's God's love for us. It's the highest and purest form of love.

As we left Wichita and thought about the reality of not being known anymore by the person who has known us the longest, we determined to be more intentional about becoming type four parents still (and grandparents).

My Christmas Wish: Quantitative Easing

I had never heard of the term "quantitative easing" until about a month ago. I was walking in my neighborhood in Northwest Arkansas thinking about all the houses on the two streets around us that have been foreclosed, are for rent, or are for sale. Usually the total is around sixteen. On this day, however, NPR was speaking of quantitative easing as a way of quietly stimulating the economy. Instead of the messy business of a new stimulus plan that must be approved by congress, why not just flood the economy with $600 billion dollars of new printed money? I thought it was a fabulous idea and longed to be put on the Christmas list for just such a gift to our family.

Many of us could greatly benefit from receiving a free gift of printed money just in time for the holiday. After all we could go to the mall and shop freely for our families without pulling out the credit card even once. We could fill our pockets with money and pay in cash. Heck, we could even afford to be generous to others in need and share some of the cash with them.

Unfortunately, the new printed money will only serve to weaken our already weakened dollar and to put us as a country in further risk that the Chinese will simply call in our debt. It might help our exports, but then we become the country we have been criticizing: namely China who has been manipulating its currency in order to increase its exports also.

The future months will reveal the impact of quantitative easing upon the U. S. economy. In the meantime, it would be very nice for Santa to fill our stockings with cash to at least pay the After-Christmas bills.

The Tragedy of Zahra Baker

Our book club has just completed its discussion of Danielle Trussoni's Angelology. The question we spent the most time discussing is this: "Apart from religion, is there such a thing as pure evil?" One need not look much further than the latest child murder, that of Zahra Baker in North Carolina, to know pure evil must exist. As we have heard and seen from videos of her on television, she was a child who had experienced much trauma in her ten years. Yet, amazingly enough, every picture showed a happy, smiling child.

Evidently she was being raised by her grandmother in Australia before she came to the United States to live with her father Adam and stepmother Elisa. She lost a leg and her hearing because of treatment for bone cancer. The way she lost her life is still being determined by the authorities although the evidence strongly points to the father and stepmother. Elisa evidently gave directions as to where to locate Zahra's body. We must ask ourselves as a nation once more, "What kind of person would kill such a beautiful, innocent child?"

Neighbors of the family have now come forward to report their concern for Zahra, sharing stories of a stepmother's berating of her stepdaughter because she would not use her prosthesis as much as her stepmother thought necessary. What is the lesson we can learn from Zahra's murder? Obviously, it is to report to the authorities any suspicion of child abuse. We cannot be silent on this issue. Pure evil does exist, and it robbed Zahra of the life she might have had.

Lives of Sacrifice and Service

My friend JoAnn and I blindly chose a movie to watch together on Thursday. I say blindly, but in actuality we had both read a review and came away from it thinking we would be watching a love story. It was anything but. It was Never Let Me Go based on the novel by Ishiguro. The storyline centered around clones that were intentionally created in order to supply vital organs for their "originals" as needed. It was rather horrifying to say the least.

Of course, since the original, cloned sheep Dolly was created in 1996, many issues have arisen regarding the ethics and morality of the process. Many have gone on to speculate about how clones might be used to extend life almost indefinitely. The movie version raises not only those issues but also focuses on whether clones have souls, can be original and creative themselves, or can fall in love and experience the same emotions as all people.

The movie also centers perhaps on a larger theological issue. At one point near the end of the movie, the Garden of Eden is alluded to as one character is reading to another. Could the author of the novel have been also pondering the destiny of God's creations? We are taught as Christians, for example, that our purpose in life is to live lives of sacrifice and service just as Jesus did. At what point can, and do we, decide if sacrifice for others is too demanding and will eventually exhaust us? Are we like clones who blindly accept this purpose here on earth?

The movie is intriguing--not necessarily one I would have chosen with more information on its content. It is, nevertheless, one I cannot easily forget.

The Puzzle of Political Correctness

All of us have been inundated the past few weeks with the controverseries relating to political correctness. Has it really gone amuck as some conservatives among us would have us believe? What can we say, and how can we remember all the rules of proper discourse? Some examples are in order.

Among those in trouble in the news are Mel Gibson, with his rants against Jews and threats against his former girlfriend; Dr. Laura, with her use of the "N" word repeatedly on her radio program; Rick Sanchez, with his statements also about Jews in the media industry; and now Juan Williams, who acknowledged feeling fear when he boarded a plane with Muslims. All have paid the price for saying probably what they really think by the loss of their respective positions.

On the one hand, I agree (and have since the early '90's when I first became aware of the concept through my daughter, a graduate students in English at USC) that one should not knowingly use terms that cause hurt to others. As educated people, why should we? On the other hand, as we now see in the latest controversies, at what point are we simply being hypersensitive?

The recent and most talked-about example occurred last week on the television program "The View" as commentator Bill O'Reilly said that the Muslims attacked us on 9/11. This comment led to a lot of shouting with Whoopi Goldberg and Joy Behar walking off the show in a storm of anger. Yet that very week, Joy had two people on her show that both separately used the phrase, "like the pot calling the kettle black." I have been taught that African-Americans find that phrase offensive, yet Joy said nothing to the two guests about it. Later, she bemoaned the loss of civil discourse in our society with guest Richard Dreyfess, yet she had just left the premises her own show while on the air. Is there a double standard here?

Of course, we all know what one of the key problems is. We have so many analysis shows on cable that the air time needs to be filled with controversial political and social issues. All serve to increase ratings for either a conservative position or a liberal one. I for one would love to return to the good old days--having three major networks only giving their news at the dinner hour each night. But then I certainly show my age here.

A Narrative Poem for October

The Cross in the Clouds

After a summer of record temperatures,
the fifty-three degree fall chill surrounds me
as I step out the door, clad in my green jacket.

Once again I worry about our financial future
as I adjust the volume on the local NPR radio station
and prepare for my three mile morning stroll by the riverside.

They are interviewing people who have been struggling to pay their
bills during the Great Recession that has plagued us for the past two years.

The recession has been a brute for us as well with its constant devouring
of our savings and annuity payments—a set of tires here,
a new icemaker there, or a number of replacement balusters
for the repair of the deck—all serve to dampen my spirits.

I see before me the Halloween decorations in practically every yard I pass—
the numerous hay bales holding a variety of colorful mums in pots,
dancing skeletons, bright orange pumpkins, and spooky houses with
bats flying around them as if to frighten and menace us all.

I turn the corner and see the low-hanging fog over the mountains to the South;
It appears that the usual trees and radio towers have completely
disappeared magically, but then--I see it in the distance above the clouds:
It appears to be a white cross suspended in the sky with absolutely no support
underneath it. Could it be a sign of God’s faithfulness for the future?
His invisible Hand holding all of us so calmly and gracefully.