Narrowly Reined Silence

I dread that day. I know I will be required to call upon every grown-up, rational bone in my body to hold back my Mommy protective nature, to be the bigger person, to scrape a life lesson out of one of life’s realities. I dread that day–the day when one of my sweet children comes home crying, hurt by hurtful words spoken about him.

They’re all too young to care right now.  They are blissfully absorbed in their own worlds with their own thoughts and their own stories, unaware of how they are perceived by others around them. I dread the day one of them realizes someone doesn’t like him because of something out of his control–like where he lives or the color of her hair or the style of his blue jeans or the accuracy of his pitch. It makes me sad to even think about that day. I dread them not having the favor of someone, a friend or a teacher or a playmate, whose opinion for however fleeting a moment matters to them.

Perhaps it will be Little Drummer Boy who realizes for the first time someone is laughing AT him and not with him.  It could be Squiggle who realizes someone is running AWAY from him rather than alongside him. Maybe it will be Baby Girl who, for the first time, hears that her smile isn’t as beautiful as we’ve always told her.  I dread that day. It will be the day my heart breaks. And, it will be the day I must take a narrowly reined vow of silence–the day I rely on God’s Spirit and will-power to hold my tongue, to keep myself from lashing out in anger at someone else’s child or some child’s parent or this world in general. It will be another chapter in a series of many lessons I attempt to teach them about where their true and lasting worth lies, and the bittersweet rewards of being who you are. But, it will break my heart nonetheless. For, on that day, they will have lost (if only for a moment) that carefree indifference to what others think. On that day, they will have lost the innocent belief that all the world values them as we do.

Sadly, that day is a reality. It’s coming. Our penchant for hasty judgements and cruel words is evident all around us, and it’s often revealed in surprising ways at surprisingly young ages by surprising people.  Today, I read of a boy, Carl Walker-Hoover, who took his own life less than two weeks ago because of the daily teasing he received.  The accusation: he “acted gay.” Carl would have turned 12 years old today. His mother said in an interview with Essence magazine that being gay had never presented itself as an issue because Carl had not even experienced puberty yet. He was interested in soccer and basketball and football and school and Pokemon.

Today, April 17, also marked the National Day of Silence, an initiative sponsored by the Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network (GLSEN) that encourages students to take some form of a vow of silence to raise awareness about school bullying based on perceived or actual sexual orientation and about the silence many students who’ve chosen a LGBT lifestyle feel they must keep to avoid harrassment. Many conservative groups have denounced the initiative as simply a vehicle for promoting and indoctrinating students in the homosexual “agenda”.

But, I am not writing about the “agenda.” And, being gay or straight wasn’t on Carl Walker-Hoover’s radar. And, whether my little ones are accused of being gay or prudes or rednecks or poor white trash or nerds, it’s the same kind of speech that will require my narrowly reined silence as a protective Mother one day.  So, today, I’m writing. Because I don’t want to be Carl Walker-Hoover’s mother.

The problem I have with the conservative approach to so many social issues (including the gay one) is that so often our so-called righteousness is used as a weapon. Our own speech, the names WE call, reveal our refusal to see a created soul of infinite worth to a Creator God. We see what God calls sin, and we name it such.  Yes, but we are blind to the fact that “sinners” are souls. And this is not the way of the Savior I know. The harshest words Jesus spoke in the New Testament were reserved for the religious leaders of the day. The smallest chunks of time in his schedule were given to those religious leaders. Most of his time was spent with prostitutes and cheaters and working class, the uneducated, the disloyal, the confused. And, the time he had with them, he spent slinging, not insults and accusations, but bread and wine and conversation, and more often than not forgiveness.

In the conservative movement I see, we’re running away from ourselves. We run alarmingly close to creating a culture that promotes the kind of stigma and bigotry and soul-blindness that made an 11-year-old boy’s topic of teasing so unbearable. In that culture, it’s better to be dead than to be called gay. That’s not the Savior I know. It’s not the salvation I know.

500/15 on Equality

This morning, I’ve been following the coverage of the California State Supreme Court hearings on the constitutionality of Proposition 8 – the California gay marriage ban that passed by a 52% margin of the popular vote in November. The arguments, protesters and media are a world away from my office lunch break here in Mississippi, but the debate is inescapable. The common relevant phrase today is “marriage equality” and it has me thinking about the nature of equality itself. I saw a Prop 8 protest badge on a blog earlier in the week (the blog you didn’t know I was reading–a post on that later): “Equality should not be put up for a popular vote.”

It begs the question: Is equality a popularity contest? Equal is one of those words (like unique) that is or isn’t. It’s, by definition, a mathematical absolute. Something can’t be nearly equal or slightly equal or very equal. People, situations, equations are equal or not. So, is marriage an issue of equality? People are never inherently equal to one another. Our differences are a biological given. Since marriages are made up of people, is it even possible to seek that kind of “equality” in a meaningful way? Is it right to try?

In the tweet coverage of the Court arguments, I see many references to “inalienable” and the question of whether the “right” to marry (or form a union) is an “inalienable right” that falls somewhere in the realms of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. In that grand list, we read that the truth of equality is “self-evident.”

We hold these Truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

All men are created equal—declared by a bold ownership of independence and freedom, the freedom to choose our own way. No, we are not all equal in our abilities. We are not all equal in our choices. But, we are all created with an equal ability to make those choices. And, much to the chagrin of our manifest destiny mentality and our conservative bravado, neither the Declaration of Independence nor the California constitution bestows that equality and ensuing freedom of choice. God, the Creator, is the originator of the concept.

Do I believe gay marriage is “right”? No. Would I choose it for me and mine? No. Do I think we need a law on the books banning it? Is God’s law enough? Can I as a person or we as a society rightfully deny a choice God has given? Even if that choice is opposed to His expressed desire? Can I reach out to those in the protest line and respect a common equality despite the differences in lifestyle choices? Can we find ourselves on equal footing as people, as mothers, as citizens? Despite a slight majority, can we somehow equal more than the mere total of our numbers? Those questions require more than 500 or 15.

For a brief history of the California Proposition 8 story, visit the LA Times chronology.  Be forewarned: LAT officially endorsed a “Vote No” stance on Prop 8 on November 2, 2008.

Where Resolutions Come From, Part 1

I’m behind.  Again.  This post has been procrastinated and interrupted so many times that it’s dangerously close to being ridiculous.  Still, I am compelled to write it.  Compelled by whom, it’s hard to say.  Maybe by glances at the multitude of now-outdated January magazine issues boasting 276, 10 or just 1 brilliant way to do something or another “new” with your life in 2009.  Maybe by society’s continual quest for “more” and “new”, the rat race of discontent.  Maybe by my own thinking.  Where do resolutions come from?

Thinking is a funny thing.  I think.  Although I do it constantly, it tends to be something I plan to do.  I have a running mental list of topics, choices, concerns, and ideas that need further mulling in order for me to decide on a stance–thoughts that have been relegated to the pile of “this requires more brain capacity than I have available at the moment.”  It happens especially when I’m feeling overwhelmed in mind, spirit and schedule.  That’s where I’ve been.  But, invariably if left unattended, those thoughts sometimes gain strength and power, bunch together with other thoughts, jump on board with various reminders from the world of my experience and wriggle their way to the top.

Thus, the resolution post.

It started as an obligation, something I felt I ought to do if I call myself a thinking, responsible human being.  And, of course, any self-respecting blogger must post said obligation for all the internets to see and thereby hold virtually accoutable.  Ick.  Plus, shouldn’t I prove myself to be a “now” woman by adopting some habits to better myself and my surroundings in the year to come?  Double ick.  Since nearly 1/6th of the year is behind me, the ship of self-motivated, on-top-of-it Super Woman has clearly sailed.  Still, my mind has been insistent on resolution-making in some form.  How can I pay attention, if I can’t look at where I am, where I want to be, and how to get there?  I even Googled “resolution” to try to gain some inspiration/motivation.  You’ll be happy to know that the U.S. Government offers a glimpse at 13 popular New Year’s Resolutions.  Thank you.  About.com showcases a bunch of top ten resolutions, and not your average ones.  There’s a top 10 list of resolutions for everything from your yard to your human resources department.  Oh, triple ick.  This year’s inspiration was hard to come by.

I usually take the 252 approach to New Year’s Resolutions–following Jesus’ model of growth found in Luke 2:52. (More on that in part 2.)  But, this year, I just couldn’t start there.  My thoughts were too scattered.  Still, I wanted to come up with at least some semblance of a resolution before the year got away from me.  Then, I came across a post at slightlycosmopolitan.com [awesome blog, btw] that inspired me.  She described reading on one of her favorite blogs [don't know the one :(] about the concept of a theme word for the year.  She described it as:

“choosing a word to represent your year, a word that inspires and centers you, a word that reminds you what’s most important and what’s at the heart of all your other goals.”

Wow!  It was satori, boo-yow, an aha moment, whatever.  It struck me as the very thing I needed.  I started with the basic question:  What do I want to be different about my life this year?  The core-level answer bubbled up almost immediately, and I’ve been brainstorming on it ever since.  I’ll be sharing it soon (I promise) because it’s at the end of the resolution story, but the beginning of the resolve.  And, I hope to explore it in greater detail at EyeJunkie as the year progresses.  But first, the 2nd part of where resolution come from…

Open Letter to Sports Advertisers

To Whom It May Concern:

I got 4 hours of sleep last night.

Why, you ask?  The Super Bowl. No, I was not in some Steeler-induced euphoria.  Why, then?  Super Bowl commercials. Yes, I know how really fun it is to wait for the commercials; laugh, cry, and puzzle at their meaning; rate the best, worst and most colossally lame.  But, I sort of have this unwritten inner rule about my entertainment.  It only qualifies as amusement in so far as it a) does not make my children cry, and b) does not interupt my intentional slumber–both of which happened last night as a result of Super Bowl commercials.  And at 4am, I was NOT AMUSED.

At 5:30pm yesterday, we switched on the big game–no small task, mind you.  There was some convincing required since turning on the game also meant turning off Bob the Builder.  To Little Drummer Boy: “I know, sweet, but we only have one TV and we have to share.”  To Squiggle:  “Daddy wants to watch a special football game.”  “Foot.  Baw.”  Suddenly, we were all convinced.  “Foot. Baw.” fans are in training at our house. [hmmm. point to ponder.]

Coming a little late to the party, we were orienting ourselves to the game and getting excited about what food might appropriately accompany our “foot. baw.”  Midway through the first quarter, what do we see?  I actually don’t know what we saw because I was distracted.  What I saw was Little Drummer Boy: close look, giving way to concerned look, giving way to startled look, giving way to tears peeking out at the corners, announcing “Mommy, that scared me.”  Yeah, I don’t know exactly what we saw, just that it involved a big, scary dinosaur with big, scary teeth coming right at us through the screen.  NOT COOL.

Explanations required:  Dinosaurs aren’t around anymore–not just at our house, but anywhere.  It’s over now.  We can see “foot. baw.” now.  Then, we were ok to get back to the game.  All was well.  Only, shortly after, what did we see?  I don’t know what we saw because I was in the kitchen making the Super Bowl meal of choice (pancakes and bacon). What I saw was Little Drummer Boy rounding the corner with more tears, in need of a hug, sporting a more urgent “Mommy, that scared me.”  Oh, and Hub turning OFF the Super Bowl as a result of what I can only guess was some gun-toting, teeth-baring, sword-wielding, fire-breathing, machine-morphing, head-banging conglomeration of a supposed consumer enticement.  Choose any or all that may apply.  Sadly, I was thinking “Thank God” that’s all it was.  I mean, literally, thank God there was no female clothing involved.

Was that the end of it?  NOT EVEN CLOSE.  Our Super Bowl experience was not complete until it involved soothing the tears of bad dreams and their subsequent reluctance to go to sleep (count them) SIX TIMES last night–2 for Daddy and 4 for me.

So, we didn’t get to watch any more Super Bowl commercials or any more “foot. baw.” for that matter.  Guess what?  DON’T CARE.  Because I was TICKED OFF.  TICKED. OFF.  Ok, now that I think about it, I care a little that I didn’t get to watch SPRINGSTEEN either, making me even more ticked off.  See paragraph 2.  To reiterate: supposed entertainment was sooo NOT entertaining when it involved Little Drummer Boy’s tears.  Not to mention the fact that I AM SLEEPY.

In the wake of MY sleep-deprived morning, I’m sure you’re all getting together to high-five the success of your ad spots and write the checks.  ATTENTION all you marketing execs and creatives.  Take this down:

1.  Yes, we only have one TV, and I like it that way.  So, don’t even think about turning this around on me.

2.  No, I don’t think my THREE YEAR OLD needs to get out more.

3.  A bzank-bzillion dollars is an obscene and offensive amount of money to spend on an advertising spot.  Go get yourself some corporate responsibility — economic crisis, children in poverty and all that.

4.  Yeah, I get that the Super Bowl doesn’t claim to be “family friendly” entertainment, but I have two “foot. baw” fans that will meet your demographic in about 15 years when (at the rate you’re going) you may really need some customers.  Only, now they’re scared of the commercials.

5.  I’d like, just once, to enjoy non-DVD programming that does not involve monsters, sexed up clothing, psycho-murderers, a steroid scandal or an explanation of ED.  Just once.

6.  I know I waited until a half hour before the game to ask “now, who’s playing?” but me and my little contribution to the middle class Gen X demographic still have a tiny bit of discretionary income that we WON’T be spending on people and things that give our kids bad dreams.

Rant over.  Although, frankly, I’m not really over it, because do I feel better?  NO.  I feel SLEEPY.

Thinking About Rain

It seems like it’s been raining endlessly here in Starkville.  There is literally water standing everywhere, even across the road in some places.  Although I’m trying not to let it dampen (hee hee) my Christmas spirit, I am, at the very least, tired of the gray monotony.  Perhaps Little Drummer Boy said it best in our “good morning prayer” this morning:

Dear God
I pray the rain will stop.
And rain next week…

Hence, my lunchtime doodle above.  The gallery showing of dotted raindrops on my window against bare branches outside and the percussion concert put on by morning showers on my office’s metal roof have made for a visual and audio celebration of rain, despite the gray sky. Rain is such a dichotomy.  We blame it for the flood of gloom and dreariness that invades our spirits, but we are also thankful for the refreshing nourishment it provides in places where growth has become dry.  Both literal and spiritual rain are double-edged. I’ve been procrastinating and letting my mind trickle here and there this morning, somehow puddling around the idea of rain.  Here is a brainstorm of the first 10 rainy song references to pop in my head today:

1.  ”I’m just a little black rain cloud
hovering under the honey tree
only a little black rain cloud
pay no attention to me”
~ Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree, 1966

2.  ”It’s raining, it’s pouring
the old man is snoring
jumped in bed and bumped his head
and couldn’t get up in the morning.”
~ Wikipedia’d to find it’s about a meteorologist named John Dalton.  Who knew?

3.  ”Here comes the rain again
Falling on my head like memory
Falling on my head like a new emotion…”
~ Eurythmics, 1984

4.  ”Rainy days and Mondays always get me down”
~ The Carpenters, 1971

5.  ”Singin’ in the rain,
just singin’ in th rain
what a glorious feeling
I’m happy again”
~ Singin’ in the Rain, 1952

6.  ”Listen to the mandolin rain
Listen to the music on the lake
Listen to my heart break every time she runs away”
~ Bruce Hornsby,  1986

7.  ”Raindrops keep fallin’ on my head
and just like the guy who’s feet are too big for his bed
nothing seems to fit, oh …
~ Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, 1969

8. “It’s raining again
Oh no, my love’s at an end
Oh no, it’s raining again
Too bad I’m losing a friend.”
~ Supertramp, 1982

9. “Human kindness, it’s overflowing
And I think it’s gonna rain today.”
~ Randy Newman

10. “Drip drip drop little April shower
beating a tune as you fall all around
Drip drip drop little April shower
what can compare to your beautiful sound”
~ Bambi, 1942

Bonus Track:
“The sun’ll come out tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow
There’ll be sun”
~ the musical Annie, 1982

Let me just consult Mr. Weather Channel, and we’ll see!