(Matthew 1:18-25)
I grew up in the era before over-scheduling. My brother, sister and I were free to our own devices, and as a result we developed our own traditions and rituals.
Jonathan invented The Never-Ending Journey, a cartoon strip penned on continuous reams of perforated computer paper in which a tribe of stick figures sojourned endlessly over various types of terrain. For years we added to the journey, subjecting the tribe to inclement weather and impossible landforms, and recording their wisecracks along the way. They never quite arrived at their destination.
We had traditions for Christmas also. It began with the first nativity. Jonathan put on his bath robe and declared himself a shepherd. We cast Jillanna as the Virgin Mary. I was the angel, standing on a chair to loom over Mary with such an exuberant expression that it scared Baby Jesus – who, I’m sorry to say, was being portrayed by a large Siamese cat wrapped in a baby blanket.
Eventually we moved beyond crèche play and simulated the entire church Christmas program. We lined up the dining room chairs to make pews, and plopped our dolls and stuffed animals in the empty seats. Jillanna played the piano while we sang. After I took up the offering, Jonathan delivered a good Southern hellfire-and-brimstone sermon.
But how can three voices be a choir? The thin notes distressed us greatly, and we determined to make our choir a hundred voices strong. By next Christmas season, we had devised a solution. We set two tape recorders side by side. First we recorded ourselves singing Christmas hymns. Then we played the cassette, and recorded ourselves singing with it. Over and over, we sang with our own voices, adding harmonies where we could. We recorded it again and again, until our choir was a hundred voices strong.
If a child’s work is play, then we worked hard to teach ourselves life lessons that would sustain us. Like the stick people in the Never-Ending Journey, we still travel endlessly over uncertain terrain in changing weather. What makes the story is not the hills and valleys or the strange hail storms, but our response to it all.
Our Christmas program taught us that with a little ingenuity, we can operate beyond the scope of our own limitations. A child can preach the Gospel. A small band of siblings can create a choir a hundred voices strong.
We learned, too, that church is what you make it. I’m thankful that my mother laughed at our antics and did not scold us for being sacrilegious. The truth is, we were practicing. This holiday season, millions will gather in thousands of chapels and churches to celebrate Christmas. To some degree, we are all just playing at church. The closer we come to the throne of God, the more we see that we are unworthy imposters – mere children in religious vestments. Yet our God welcomes us, and perhaps laughs at our antics.
So I’m going to look for that old cassette tape. I suspect that if you listen closely, beneath the hum of over-recorded static and the cracking of children’s untrained voices, you can hear the breath the angels.
#
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
What to give the children
There were three of us children, and my parents raised us with intention. They bought a set of encyclopedias while my big brother was still in diapers and dutifully put the yearbook stickers in place each year. We had swim lessons, homemade birthday parties, and we were even on TV with Miss Marsha.
Despite all this attention to planning, the most important thing my parents ever did for us was done for someone else’s benefit.
When we were about 6, 8 and 9, my parents sponsored a refugee family from Cambodia. I do not remember the family discussions we must have had before their arrival. What I remember is a young woman clutching a toddler in an oversized dress, with her husband and brother at her side. Not one of them knew a word of English. They were at once frightened, and incredibly brave.
We children lost our basement playroom, where we had once been allowed to develop empires of Lego blocks and cardboard boxes for our marble people, or to drag out our mad scientist experiments for days or weeks with no clean-up call. The new people descended into this abode, and slept for most of a day. I perched on the steps, watching their brown feet for any sign of movement.
They smelled like spices I did not know, and they spoke volumes with dark eyes and timid smiles. I loved them right away. I was glad to give up my basement. I’d have given them my bedroom, my playhouse, and all my toys, too.
My mother prepared food she thought our guests would appreciate – chicken, rice and vegetables. The Cambodians sat around the table, staring. They would not eat. She called an interpreter, who looked at the spread and laughed softly.
“They’re confused,” she explained. “You’ve served an entire chicken. They’re probably worried this is all the meat for the next week. And that bowl of rice on the table – that’s only enough rice for one or two people.”
My mother took them to an Asian market. She stared wide-eyed as Len pointed to a fifty pound bag of rice. Soon Len was in the kitchen, treating us all to a sumptuous Cambodian meal. The rice was firm and dry, without the butter or sugar preferred here in the South. She spooned a steaming mound onto each plate, and garnished it with two bites of chicken cooked in ginger and a spoonful of steamed vegetables.
Our next task was to teach our guests English. When I remember my childhood home, I remember words taped all over the house: window, door, piano, and chair. My parents argued over “little tree,” which Mom worried they would assign to all pine trees. Dad compensated by labeling a dozen more trees.
We kids argued over weightier matters: Is it more Christian to teach Houn swear words, or to risk that he might not know if someone insults him at work?
Over time, our house guests learned the language and the culture. They worked hard, saved money, and eventually moved to Washington State to be near other family members. The experience was so positive, my parents opted to repeat it, later taking in members of Len’s extended family.
Although our Cambodian friends now live on the other side of the continent, they never forget to share their lives with us through calls, visits and photographs. Recently my parents were invited to a wedding, where they were honored as though their sacrifices had taken place only yesterday.
Of course, I do not remember any sacrifices. What I remember is growing up with an extra big brother to fend off the bullies. I remember holding a little brown baby and learning to say her name. I remember teaching a small boy to ride a bike. I remember Homp working in the garden and helping with the cows. I’m sure my parents (who will be embarrassed by this column) would say that everything they gave was repaid tenfold in terms of love, loyalty and generosity.
Because my parents were so intentional about our raising, they must have discussed the prospective impact of refugee sponsorship on their own developing children. They obviously believed the benefits to us children outweighed any risks. Still, I doubt they could have foreseen the impact it would have on us. Of all the things my parents did for us – the money spent on education, the hours baking in the sun to cheer us on at swim meets or freezing at football games, and all the shopping, chauffeuring, lecturing and worrying -- everything pales in comparison to this:
My parents taught us to love people before they have earned it.
Such unmerited love is the heart of Christmas. Not only can we say “God so loved the world,” (John 3:16) but also that “Christ died for us while we were yet sinners.” (Romans 5:8) God did not wait for us to realize we needed a Savior. God did not declare that in order to receive help we must first learn a language, or fill out the right paperwork, or be born a certain color or under a certain creed. Our Savior reached out to us in perfect love, not in spite of our destitute state, but because of it.
This is what we need to give our children. Give them a model of the world that empowers them to go forth in love, trusting the goodness of God and the resilience of the human spirit.
#
Despite all this attention to planning, the most important thing my parents ever did for us was done for someone else’s benefit.
When we were about 6, 8 and 9, my parents sponsored a refugee family from Cambodia. I do not remember the family discussions we must have had before their arrival. What I remember is a young woman clutching a toddler in an oversized dress, with her husband and brother at her side. Not one of them knew a word of English. They were at once frightened, and incredibly brave.
We children lost our basement playroom, where we had once been allowed to develop empires of Lego blocks and cardboard boxes for our marble people, or to drag out our mad scientist experiments for days or weeks with no clean-up call. The new people descended into this abode, and slept for most of a day. I perched on the steps, watching their brown feet for any sign of movement.
They smelled like spices I did not know, and they spoke volumes with dark eyes and timid smiles. I loved them right away. I was glad to give up my basement. I’d have given them my bedroom, my playhouse, and all my toys, too.
My mother prepared food she thought our guests would appreciate – chicken, rice and vegetables. The Cambodians sat around the table, staring. They would not eat. She called an interpreter, who looked at the spread and laughed softly.
“They’re confused,” she explained. “You’ve served an entire chicken. They’re probably worried this is all the meat for the next week. And that bowl of rice on the table – that’s only enough rice for one or two people.”
My mother took them to an Asian market. She stared wide-eyed as Len pointed to a fifty pound bag of rice. Soon Len was in the kitchen, treating us all to a sumptuous Cambodian meal. The rice was firm and dry, without the butter or sugar preferred here in the South. She spooned a steaming mound onto each plate, and garnished it with two bites of chicken cooked in ginger and a spoonful of steamed vegetables.
Our next task was to teach our guests English. When I remember my childhood home, I remember words taped all over the house: window, door, piano, and chair. My parents argued over “little tree,” which Mom worried they would assign to all pine trees. Dad compensated by labeling a dozen more trees.
We kids argued over weightier matters: Is it more Christian to teach Houn swear words, or to risk that he might not know if someone insults him at work?
Over time, our house guests learned the language and the culture. They worked hard, saved money, and eventually moved to Washington State to be near other family members. The experience was so positive, my parents opted to repeat it, later taking in members of Len’s extended family.
Although our Cambodian friends now live on the other side of the continent, they never forget to share their lives with us through calls, visits and photographs. Recently my parents were invited to a wedding, where they were honored as though their sacrifices had taken place only yesterday.
Of course, I do not remember any sacrifices. What I remember is growing up with an extra big brother to fend off the bullies. I remember holding a little brown baby and learning to say her name. I remember teaching a small boy to ride a bike. I remember Homp working in the garden and helping with the cows. I’m sure my parents (who will be embarrassed by this column) would say that everything they gave was repaid tenfold in terms of love, loyalty and generosity.
Because my parents were so intentional about our raising, they must have discussed the prospective impact of refugee sponsorship on their own developing children. They obviously believed the benefits to us children outweighed any risks. Still, I doubt they could have foreseen the impact it would have on us. Of all the things my parents did for us – the money spent on education, the hours baking in the sun to cheer us on at swim meets or freezing at football games, and all the shopping, chauffeuring, lecturing and worrying -- everything pales in comparison to this:
My parents taught us to love people before they have earned it.
Such unmerited love is the heart of Christmas. Not only can we say “God so loved the world,” (John 3:16) but also that “Christ died for us while we were yet sinners.” (Romans 5:8) God did not wait for us to realize we needed a Savior. God did not declare that in order to receive help we must first learn a language, or fill out the right paperwork, or be born a certain color or under a certain creed. Our Savior reached out to us in perfect love, not in spite of our destitute state, but because of it.
This is what we need to give our children. Give them a model of the world that empowers them to go forth in love, trusting the goodness of God and the resilience of the human spirit.
#
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Free the Guppy
Dutch court should let 13-year-old set sail
Last week, busy-bodies in the Netherlands stepped in to prevent Dutch teen Laura Dekker from becoming the youngest person to sail around the world solo. The Utrecht District court ordered Dekker to undergo two months of psychiatric evaluation, calling the plan “undeniably daring and risky.”
Of course the trip is daring and risky. Isn’t that the point? If circumnavigating the globe in a 26-foot sailboat were a walk in the park, other teens would be doing it. Currently the title for youngest person to sail round the world belongs to 17-year-old Mike Perham of Britain.
The trip takes two years. The court-ordered guardianship and evaluation will, at least, delay Laura beyond her fourteenth birthday, pushing her ETA beyond age sixteen. If she is allowed to set sail at the end of the evaluation period, it will not be the same voyage. Not only will Laura be older, she will also be forced by the seasons to take a different route than the one she has been plotting for three years.
It is admirable that a sea-faring nation like the Netherlands is more concerned with child safety than having another of its citizens listed in the Guinness Book of World Records. The question, then, is whether the state’s meddling is justified.
Laura Dekker did not merely wake up one morning and decide to sail around the world. The girl was born on a boat, and spent four years sailing the world with her parents. She began sailing solo at age six. At the age of 11, she crossed the Atlantic solo, spending seven weeks alone.
Isolation is the primary concern touted by those who want to stop Laura Dekker. Professor Micha de Winter of Utrecht University (not directly involved with the case) touted the guardianship and psychological evaluation as a wise decision. “It’s a big risk and an experiment with a child in which you don’t know what the results could be.” Winter indicated two years alone at sea could damage her physical and emotional development.
Winter’s view presumes that Laura would have no contact with the outside world, as if she would sail for two years without ever seeing or speaking to another human. Actually Laura plotted the journey to stick with busy shipping lanes. The need to reprovision the ship will necessitate many stops over the two-year period, and we do live in the electronic age. One can easily imagine a media following, a blog, and a plethora of satellite calls and emails.
For a generation that worries incessantly about children’s text messages and peer relationships, we are quick to overlook the value of solitude and hard work. We enjoy adventure movies where a young person faces off nature with no real preparation, but when a well-trained young person wants to undertake an epic voyage she has spent three years planning, we cry “Parental neglect!” and try to ground the sailor.
Amazing teens can do amazing things. We cheer our young Olympians without asking too many questions about their education, because we realize that their experiences are a different kind of education. We listen to young music phenoms without worrying too much if they miss some of the ordinary experiences of youth, because we recognize that they are allowed to experience the extraordinary.
Laura Dekker is an amazing young woman with a very big dream. I applaud her parents for getting behind that dream, and I look forward to following her journey.
#
Last week, busy-bodies in the Netherlands stepped in to prevent Dutch teen Laura Dekker from becoming the youngest person to sail around the world solo. The Utrecht District court ordered Dekker to undergo two months of psychiatric evaluation, calling the plan “undeniably daring and risky.”
Of course the trip is daring and risky. Isn’t that the point? If circumnavigating the globe in a 26-foot sailboat were a walk in the park, other teens would be doing it. Currently the title for youngest person to sail round the world belongs to 17-year-old Mike Perham of Britain.
The trip takes two years. The court-ordered guardianship and evaluation will, at least, delay Laura beyond her fourteenth birthday, pushing her ETA beyond age sixteen. If she is allowed to set sail at the end of the evaluation period, it will not be the same voyage. Not only will Laura be older, she will also be forced by the seasons to take a different route than the one she has been plotting for three years.
It is admirable that a sea-faring nation like the Netherlands is more concerned with child safety than having another of its citizens listed in the Guinness Book of World Records. The question, then, is whether the state’s meddling is justified.
Laura Dekker did not merely wake up one morning and decide to sail around the world. The girl was born on a boat, and spent four years sailing the world with her parents. She began sailing solo at age six. At the age of 11, she crossed the Atlantic solo, spending seven weeks alone.
Isolation is the primary concern touted by those who want to stop Laura Dekker. Professor Micha de Winter of Utrecht University (not directly involved with the case) touted the guardianship and psychological evaluation as a wise decision. “It’s a big risk and an experiment with a child in which you don’t know what the results could be.” Winter indicated two years alone at sea could damage her physical and emotional development.
Winter’s view presumes that Laura would have no contact with the outside world, as if she would sail for two years without ever seeing or speaking to another human. Actually Laura plotted the journey to stick with busy shipping lanes. The need to reprovision the ship will necessitate many stops over the two-year period, and we do live in the electronic age. One can easily imagine a media following, a blog, and a plethora of satellite calls and emails.
For a generation that worries incessantly about children’s text messages and peer relationships, we are quick to overlook the value of solitude and hard work. We enjoy adventure movies where a young person faces off nature with no real preparation, but when a well-trained young person wants to undertake an epic voyage she has spent three years planning, we cry “Parental neglect!” and try to ground the sailor.
Amazing teens can do amazing things. We cheer our young Olympians without asking too many questions about their education, because we realize that their experiences are a different kind of education. We listen to young music phenoms without worrying too much if they miss some of the ordinary experiences of youth, because we recognize that they are allowed to experience the extraordinary.
Laura Dekker is an amazing young woman with a very big dream. I applaud her parents for getting behind that dream, and I look forward to following her journey.
#
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Horton hears a he-cession
Who the economy hits harder
Have you heard the latest buzz? Some writers and commentators are now calling the recession a “he-cession.” The new word, coined somewhere out on the blogosphere, incites fear and trembling in the masses because now the recession is actually affecting, well, men.
Times Online ran a headline: “Women are victors in ‘mancession.’” Women may not feel so victorious while enduring lower wages, shift cuts, and job loss, plus carrying a heavier share at home. Charlie Gibson touts the “he-cession” on ABC, serving up caricatures of women who just cannot respect their unemployed, apron-wearing Mr. Mom husbands.
Even Georgia Labor Commissioner Michael Thurmond is falling for the hype. Thurmond released a white paper titled “Georgia Men Hit Hardest by Recession” in which he asserts that job loss is more devastating to men than to women. This long-held assumption implies that men’s work is important, while women’s employment is merely frivolous – perhaps an avenue to get out of the house, or to earn a little money for nail polish.
In reality, women’s jobs are extremely important. In fact, 40 percent of women are the sole breadwinners for themselves or their families. Many women value their careers and identify themselves by their profession. Job loss is a major crisis, often on a par with divorce. To pretend that only men are deeply affected is ridiculous and inaccurate.
Worse yet, Michael Thurmond actually uses the term “he-cession” as if it were a real word. Thurmond’s grammar teacher must be rolling in her grave. Surely she taught him about Latin roots. Perhaps she would like to remind him that “recession” consists of the Latin prefix “re” (back) and the root “cedere” (to go) and therefore refers to moving backward. If “he-cession” had any meaning at all, it would mean that “he” is moving on, not backward.
Reading Thurmond’s white paper, something bothers me a lot more than the painful etymology of the newly coined word. If the recession has become a “he-cession” now that the lay-offs are skewed toward males – what was it in September 2008 when the data showed women were losing their jobs twice as fast as men? We never heard dire warnings about a “she-cession.” In fact, the talking heads on TV and the Internet rarely mention women’s unemployment. If they bring up unemployed women at all, it is to utter scathing remarks about “welfare moms.”
The reason men have lost more jobs, is that men had more jobs to lose. 73% of men were part of the workforce before the recession, compared to less than 60% of women. According to the Center for American Progress, 20.6% of working-age women were already living in poverty at the outset of the recession, compared to 14% of men.
Thus, saying that “the recession hits men harder” is like saying, “The recession hit the rich harder than the poor, because the rich are the ones who had money to lose.” Even during the so-called “he-cession,” men still outnumber women in the workforce, and especially in managerial positions.
On average, women who do have jobs are paid 20% less than men with the same positions. The fact that women can be paid less for doing the same work actually increases male job losses, since cut-backs target higher-paid employees. Women are also more likely to be underemployed, working part-time jobs without health insurance.
There is no new thing called a “he-cession.” The severe economic downturn affects us all. If a quirky new buzzword is needed, maybe “we-cession” would be more appropriate.
Have you heard the latest buzz? Some writers and commentators are now calling the recession a “he-cession.” The new word, coined somewhere out on the blogosphere, incites fear and trembling in the masses because now the recession is actually affecting, well, men.
Times Online ran a headline: “Women are victors in ‘mancession.’” Women may not feel so victorious while enduring lower wages, shift cuts, and job loss, plus carrying a heavier share at home. Charlie Gibson touts the “he-cession” on ABC, serving up caricatures of women who just cannot respect their unemployed, apron-wearing Mr. Mom husbands.
Even Georgia Labor Commissioner Michael Thurmond is falling for the hype. Thurmond released a white paper titled “Georgia Men Hit Hardest by Recession” in which he asserts that job loss is more devastating to men than to women. This long-held assumption implies that men’s work is important, while women’s employment is merely frivolous – perhaps an avenue to get out of the house, or to earn a little money for nail polish.
In reality, women’s jobs are extremely important. In fact, 40 percent of women are the sole breadwinners for themselves or their families. Many women value their careers and identify themselves by their profession. Job loss is a major crisis, often on a par with divorce. To pretend that only men are deeply affected is ridiculous and inaccurate.
Worse yet, Michael Thurmond actually uses the term “he-cession” as if it were a real word. Thurmond’s grammar teacher must be rolling in her grave. Surely she taught him about Latin roots. Perhaps she would like to remind him that “recession” consists of the Latin prefix “re” (back) and the root “cedere” (to go) and therefore refers to moving backward. If “he-cession” had any meaning at all, it would mean that “he” is moving on, not backward.
Reading Thurmond’s white paper, something bothers me a lot more than the painful etymology of the newly coined word. If the recession has become a “he-cession” now that the lay-offs are skewed toward males – what was it in September 2008 when the data showed women were losing their jobs twice as fast as men? We never heard dire warnings about a “she-cession.” In fact, the talking heads on TV and the Internet rarely mention women’s unemployment. If they bring up unemployed women at all, it is to utter scathing remarks about “welfare moms.”
The reason men have lost more jobs, is that men had more jobs to lose. 73% of men were part of the workforce before the recession, compared to less than 60% of women. According to the Center for American Progress, 20.6% of working-age women were already living in poverty at the outset of the recession, compared to 14% of men.
Thus, saying that “the recession hits men harder” is like saying, “The recession hit the rich harder than the poor, because the rich are the ones who had money to lose.” Even during the so-called “he-cession,” men still outnumber women in the workforce, and especially in managerial positions.
On average, women who do have jobs are paid 20% less than men with the same positions. The fact that women can be paid less for doing the same work actually increases male job losses, since cut-backs target higher-paid employees. Women are also more likely to be underemployed, working part-time jobs without health insurance.
There is no new thing called a “he-cession.” The severe economic downturn affects us all. If a quirky new buzzword is needed, maybe “we-cession” would be more appropriate.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Of Pets and People
The blessings and curses of cohabitation
As a teenager, I found my first real job at Martin-Boyd Christian Home, a Church of Christ retirement community in Chattanooga. The patience, compassion, and work ethic I learned there have had a lasting impact on my life. Imagine my excitement when my own daughter, a 2009 high school graduate, asked me to drive her to Martin-Boyd for a summer job interview.
I was excited to see the changes made over the years. Martin-Boyd has always been an establishment that honors its elderly residents, but now the architecture was updated with beautiful crown molding and individual door frames that give residents a greater sense of dignity and autonomy.
In the center of the elegant sitting room, lively birds flitted about a large glass enclosure, lending their bright colors to the atmosphere. The fattest cat I have ever seen perched on a richly upholstered chair. A sleek tabby weaved his way across the room, turning to rub against the leg of someone’s walker and then pausing for a head scratch.
The familiarity and obvious pleasure the residents feel toward these animals supports what elder care professionals have known for some time: Pets are therapeutic. In fact, when an aging person can no longer live at home, one of the greatest losses may be the loss of their animals. Petting a cat or dog has been shown to lower blood pressure, ease depression, and put a smile on one’s face.
Keeping pets should be source of enjoyment, enhancing the life of both the humans and the animals involved. In our society, we see many examples of harm caused by greed, arrogance, and even mental illness.
From time to time, the news carries a story of a house overrun by pets. Typically we hear about an older woman housing hundreds of cats in a home filled with feces and even a few rotting corpses. Authorities swoop down on the unfortunate woman, charging her with animal cruelty and removing the numerous animals to treat them as victims. But who is really the victim here? Seems to me the cats are in charge, treating their poor “owner” as a slave while they procreate madly. As the old joke goes, dogs have owners but cats have staff.
Then there are the pit bull owners, who may be crazier than the cat ladies. Every time a child is mauled by a savage dog, pit bull apologists rush in to blame the child. Last Friday an eight-year-old Lookout Mountain girl was rushed to the hospital with life-threatening injuries after a pit bull attack. The apologists noted that the attack happened in the pit bull’s own yard while he was “defending his territory” from the girl’s small terrier. Although the dog owner had no proof of rabies inoculation, the apologists began their mantra of “Where were this girl’s parents?”
Eight-year-old children are often allowed to walk down the streets of their own neighborhood – particularly when a pet is missing. Chaining a pit bull in the yard is an unsafe practice, just as it would be unsafe to chain a bear or a lion in the yard and then expect children to just stay away. It was a relief to hear that the dog owner called 911 and then shot the animal in the head, unlike other cases where pit bulls have been spirited away from the scene of the crime. In one case, the dog owners hid the offending animal and presented authorities with a similar-looking dog instead.
Pet owners have the responsibility to protect little neighbors from vicious dogs. Chains and ropes do not provide adequate protection, since a child may wander into the animal’s circle. A tall chain-link fence provides better protection. It’s all well and good to say “Children should stay on their own property,” but the reality is that children do not exercise adult judgment. This is why homeowners must put a fence around their swimming pool, rather than just saying “That kid that drowned shouldn’t have been on my property in the first place.”
Many people around the United States love dangerous breeds like pit bulls, and feel perfectly comfortable around them. Other people like to keep poisonous snakes for pets. Those of us who don’t share your affinity simply ask that you keep such pets to yourself. Do not bring them to the park where our little ones are playing. Do not parade them through the local street fair, forcing us to sweep our children away from a mouthful of fangs right at the level of their little faces. Do not leave a dangerous dog unattended on a rope in your yard, where an unsuspecting child may become their next chew toy. Do not assume that just because you consider Killer a loveable, harmless pup, he will ignore the instincts present in every cell of his body.
People and animals can live in harmony. All it takes is a bit of wisdom on the part of human beings.
#
As a teenager, I found my first real job at Martin-Boyd Christian Home, a Church of Christ retirement community in Chattanooga. The patience, compassion, and work ethic I learned there have had a lasting impact on my life. Imagine my excitement when my own daughter, a 2009 high school graduate, asked me to drive her to Martin-Boyd for a summer job interview.
I was excited to see the changes made over the years. Martin-Boyd has always been an establishment that honors its elderly residents, but now the architecture was updated with beautiful crown molding and individual door frames that give residents a greater sense of dignity and autonomy.
In the center of the elegant sitting room, lively birds flitted about a large glass enclosure, lending their bright colors to the atmosphere. The fattest cat I have ever seen perched on a richly upholstered chair. A sleek tabby weaved his way across the room, turning to rub against the leg of someone’s walker and then pausing for a head scratch.
The familiarity and obvious pleasure the residents feel toward these animals supports what elder care professionals have known for some time: Pets are therapeutic. In fact, when an aging person can no longer live at home, one of the greatest losses may be the loss of their animals. Petting a cat or dog has been shown to lower blood pressure, ease depression, and put a smile on one’s face.
Keeping pets should be source of enjoyment, enhancing the life of both the humans and the animals involved. In our society, we see many examples of harm caused by greed, arrogance, and even mental illness.
From time to time, the news carries a story of a house overrun by pets. Typically we hear about an older woman housing hundreds of cats in a home filled with feces and even a few rotting corpses. Authorities swoop down on the unfortunate woman, charging her with animal cruelty and removing the numerous animals to treat them as victims. But who is really the victim here? Seems to me the cats are in charge, treating their poor “owner” as a slave while they procreate madly. As the old joke goes, dogs have owners but cats have staff.
Then there are the pit bull owners, who may be crazier than the cat ladies. Every time a child is mauled by a savage dog, pit bull apologists rush in to blame the child. Last Friday an eight-year-old Lookout Mountain girl was rushed to the hospital with life-threatening injuries after a pit bull attack. The apologists noted that the attack happened in the pit bull’s own yard while he was “defending his territory” from the girl’s small terrier. Although the dog owner had no proof of rabies inoculation, the apologists began their mantra of “Where were this girl’s parents?”
Eight-year-old children are often allowed to walk down the streets of their own neighborhood – particularly when a pet is missing. Chaining a pit bull in the yard is an unsafe practice, just as it would be unsafe to chain a bear or a lion in the yard and then expect children to just stay away. It was a relief to hear that the dog owner called 911 and then shot the animal in the head, unlike other cases where pit bulls have been spirited away from the scene of the crime. In one case, the dog owners hid the offending animal and presented authorities with a similar-looking dog instead.
Pet owners have the responsibility to protect little neighbors from vicious dogs. Chains and ropes do not provide adequate protection, since a child may wander into the animal’s circle. A tall chain-link fence provides better protection. It’s all well and good to say “Children should stay on their own property,” but the reality is that children do not exercise adult judgment. This is why homeowners must put a fence around their swimming pool, rather than just saying “That kid that drowned shouldn’t have been on my property in the first place.”
Many people around the United States love dangerous breeds like pit bulls, and feel perfectly comfortable around them. Other people like to keep poisonous snakes for pets. Those of us who don’t share your affinity simply ask that you keep such pets to yourself. Do not bring them to the park where our little ones are playing. Do not parade them through the local street fair, forcing us to sweep our children away from a mouthful of fangs right at the level of their little faces. Do not leave a dangerous dog unattended on a rope in your yard, where an unsuspecting child may become their next chew toy. Do not assume that just because you consider Killer a loveable, harmless pup, he will ignore the instincts present in every cell of his body.
People and animals can live in harmony. All it takes is a bit of wisdom on the part of human beings.
#
Monday, June 8, 2009
Brand New Packaging!
Southern Baptists attempt to save denomination by going incognito
The webpage of Louisburg Southern Baptist Church reads: “We are still SBC; we still believe in inerrancy; we still cherish our seminaries and mission bodies: We changed our name from Louisburg Southern Baptist Church to Eastside Church of the Cross.”
What happened in Louisburg, Kansas is not an anomaly, but a growing trend.
Wikipedia describes the trend this way: A recent trend (most common among megachurches and those embracing the "seeker movement") is to eliminate "Baptist" from the church name, as it is perceived to be a "barrier" to reaching persons who have negative views of Baptists, whether they be of a different church background or none. These churches typically include the word "Community" or other non-religious or denominational terms in their church name.
Why are the Southern Baptists suddenly reluctant to use their own name? Simply put, it’s a marketing decision. The Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) has been embroiled in controversy and declining in membership for the last decade. The longstanding doctrine of church autonomy and personal autonomy (known as soul competency) has been replaced with social and political messages of intolerance and top-down Catholic-style micromanagement.
Take, for example, the issue of women in the pastorate. While the SBC has always had issues with sexism, individual churches were historically allowed to call their own pastors. As a result, many SBC churches were led by women in the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s.
In the year 2000, SBC leadership pulled out all the stops to eliminate these women. Married missionaries were forced to sign a statement recognizing the husbands as the true missionaries while the wives were just their underlings; couples who refused lost their funding. The SBC also stripped female chaplains of endorsement – but only those who were ordained. Although the SBC banned female pastors nine years ago, at this late date the purge continues with attacks on First Baptist Church of Decatur, pastored by Julie Pennington-Russell. FBC Decatur has been warned that unless they fire their pastor, they will be ousted from the Georgia Baptist Convention.
As a response to this religious fascism by the SBC, the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship (CBF) began to grow. The CBF is not a convention like the SBC. Emphasizing the freedom of every church and every individual, the CBF commits not to exercise creedal or papal authority over the network of churches that fund and endorse the organization. Many local churches, including First Baptist Church of Ringgold and First Baptist Church of Chattanooga, split their funding between the two organizations, allowing individual church members to designate which one they prefer to support.
Other churches pulled out of the SBC entirely – including the First Baptist Church of Greenville, S.C., whose founder William B. Johnson was the first president of the SBC in 1845 and is considered the father of the denomination. Pastor Harvey Clemons explained the church’s break with the SBC this way: “After about 150 years of the Southern Baptist Convention having unity in diversity, it's become a fundamentalist organization, more concerned with creedalism and politics, and we're not. When they added the statement to the Baptist Faith and Message about submissive women, it was just one more in a long series of incidents.”
Attempts at reviving the denomination include renaming old churches and misnaming new churches. Locally, north Georgia has seen the emergence of a number of misnamed Baptist churches. The Church at Catoosa may be the largest local SBC church hiding behind a non-denominational name. Although the church readily admits SBC affiliation when asked, the word “Baptist” does not appear on the website.
The newest undercover Baptist church around here is Origin Church, which uses the slogans, “For people who don’t go” and “No perfect people allowed.” Through MySpace and FaceBook, Origin stealthily targets people who have no intention of setting foot inside a Baptist church. Origin meets in the Ringgold Depot, offers free Starbucks coffee and does not use the word Baptist. Affiliation is sketchy, noticeably absent from their literature but not from the pastorate. A quick phone call receives a “yes and no” answer. They have gone back to the original Baptist message (None of us is worthy, but God loves us anyway) even as they ditch the Baptist name.
Is it really revolutionary and forward-thinking to pretend to be someone you’re not? Or, to put it more accurately, is it okay to pretend not to be someone you are? To the church-hunter who has already disavowed the Baptist denomination, it may seem like a bait-and-switch.
What’s wrong with being a Southern Baptist church? As a Nazarene, I could write a bullet list of points on which I strongly disagree with the SBC. Nevertheless, I think Southern Baptists should be proud to be Southern Baptists. If you cannot be proud of your faith, either disavow it or reform it. Don’t pretend to be above it, burying the truth somewhere down in your fine print.
The Bible tells us that by faith, our father Abraham was able to “call the things that were not as though they were.” It never says to call the things that were, as if they weren’t.
What I love best about Baptists is their humility. As a writer with a deep interest in religion and a healthy dose of skepticism, I have criticized many organizations and denominations in print. The Catholics ignore me; apparently I have not made the Pope’s radar. The Mormons threaten my business. The racists threaten my person. The Baptists inevitably respond with, “Wow, you are so right” and “I’m going to preach about this Sunday.”
This humility is what makes Baptists unique in the land. Their religious language for it is “the total depravity of man.” They read the same Bible I read, but their emphasis is a little different. They focus on the distance between God and humans – our complete inability to ever get it right. We can never reach God in the heavens; yet God reached down to us, becoming one of us and dying a sinner’s death.
The Baptist message is beautiful and important. I ask my Baptist friends not to lose sight of who you are, and why we need you. Give up the political agendas that don’t further your mission, but don’t give up your name. Grow out of the antiquated ideas about who is fit for ministry (because your writings teach that no one is fit, save through Christ), but don’t forget your heritage.
If you don’t like how the Baptist denomination is perceived, change the organization instead of the name. Be more inclusive. Get back to your roots and remember that no one is worthy of Christ – not even white, middle class, red-blooded, English-speaking American males who cut their teeth on the church pew. Reclaim the message and the mission that God set before you. Then you can be proud to put the Baptist name back on the signs.
The webpage of Louisburg Southern Baptist Church reads: “We are still SBC; we still believe in inerrancy; we still cherish our seminaries and mission bodies: We changed our name from Louisburg Southern Baptist Church to Eastside Church of the Cross.”
What happened in Louisburg, Kansas is not an anomaly, but a growing trend.
Wikipedia describes the trend this way: A recent trend (most common among megachurches and those embracing the "seeker movement") is to eliminate "Baptist" from the church name, as it is perceived to be a "barrier" to reaching persons who have negative views of Baptists, whether they be of a different church background or none. These churches typically include the word "Community" or other non-religious or denominational terms in their church name.
Why are the Southern Baptists suddenly reluctant to use their own name? Simply put, it’s a marketing decision. The Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) has been embroiled in controversy and declining in membership for the last decade. The longstanding doctrine of church autonomy and personal autonomy (known as soul competency) has been replaced with social and political messages of intolerance and top-down Catholic-style micromanagement.
Take, for example, the issue of women in the pastorate. While the SBC has always had issues with sexism, individual churches were historically allowed to call their own pastors. As a result, many SBC churches were led by women in the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s.
In the year 2000, SBC leadership pulled out all the stops to eliminate these women. Married missionaries were forced to sign a statement recognizing the husbands as the true missionaries while the wives were just their underlings; couples who refused lost their funding. The SBC also stripped female chaplains of endorsement – but only those who were ordained. Although the SBC banned female pastors nine years ago, at this late date the purge continues with attacks on First Baptist Church of Decatur, pastored by Julie Pennington-Russell. FBC Decatur has been warned that unless they fire their pastor, they will be ousted from the Georgia Baptist Convention.
As a response to this religious fascism by the SBC, the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship (CBF) began to grow. The CBF is not a convention like the SBC. Emphasizing the freedom of every church and every individual, the CBF commits not to exercise creedal or papal authority over the network of churches that fund and endorse the organization. Many local churches, including First Baptist Church of Ringgold and First Baptist Church of Chattanooga, split their funding between the two organizations, allowing individual church members to designate which one they prefer to support.
Other churches pulled out of the SBC entirely – including the First Baptist Church of Greenville, S.C., whose founder William B. Johnson was the first president of the SBC in 1845 and is considered the father of the denomination. Pastor Harvey Clemons explained the church’s break with the SBC this way: “After about 150 years of the Southern Baptist Convention having unity in diversity, it's become a fundamentalist organization, more concerned with creedalism and politics, and we're not. When they added the statement to the Baptist Faith and Message about submissive women, it was just one more in a long series of incidents.”
Attempts at reviving the denomination include renaming old churches and misnaming new churches. Locally, north Georgia has seen the emergence of a number of misnamed Baptist churches. The Church at Catoosa may be the largest local SBC church hiding behind a non-denominational name. Although the church readily admits SBC affiliation when asked, the word “Baptist” does not appear on the website.
The newest undercover Baptist church around here is Origin Church, which uses the slogans, “For people who don’t go” and “No perfect people allowed.” Through MySpace and FaceBook, Origin stealthily targets people who have no intention of setting foot inside a Baptist church. Origin meets in the Ringgold Depot, offers free Starbucks coffee and does not use the word Baptist. Affiliation is sketchy, noticeably absent from their literature but not from the pastorate. A quick phone call receives a “yes and no” answer. They have gone back to the original Baptist message (None of us is worthy, but God loves us anyway) even as they ditch the Baptist name.
Is it really revolutionary and forward-thinking to pretend to be someone you’re not? Or, to put it more accurately, is it okay to pretend not to be someone you are? To the church-hunter who has already disavowed the Baptist denomination, it may seem like a bait-and-switch.
What’s wrong with being a Southern Baptist church? As a Nazarene, I could write a bullet list of points on which I strongly disagree with the SBC. Nevertheless, I think Southern Baptists should be proud to be Southern Baptists. If you cannot be proud of your faith, either disavow it or reform it. Don’t pretend to be above it, burying the truth somewhere down in your fine print.
The Bible tells us that by faith, our father Abraham was able to “call the things that were not as though they were.” It never says to call the things that were, as if they weren’t.
What I love best about Baptists is their humility. As a writer with a deep interest in religion and a healthy dose of skepticism, I have criticized many organizations and denominations in print. The Catholics ignore me; apparently I have not made the Pope’s radar. The Mormons threaten my business. The racists threaten my person. The Baptists inevitably respond with, “Wow, you are so right” and “I’m going to preach about this Sunday.”
This humility is what makes Baptists unique in the land. Their religious language for it is “the total depravity of man.” They read the same Bible I read, but their emphasis is a little different. They focus on the distance between God and humans – our complete inability to ever get it right. We can never reach God in the heavens; yet God reached down to us, becoming one of us and dying a sinner’s death.
The Baptist message is beautiful and important. I ask my Baptist friends not to lose sight of who you are, and why we need you. Give up the political agendas that don’t further your mission, but don’t give up your name. Grow out of the antiquated ideas about who is fit for ministry (because your writings teach that no one is fit, save through Christ), but don’t forget your heritage.
If you don’t like how the Baptist denomination is perceived, change the organization instead of the name. Be more inclusive. Get back to your roots and remember that no one is worthy of Christ – not even white, middle class, red-blooded, English-speaking American males who cut their teeth on the church pew. Reclaim the message and the mission that God set before you. Then you can be proud to put the Baptist name back on the signs.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Homeschoolers play in the dirt
Addressing the school social worker’s rant
This weekend my grandson came over to the house to play. Almost two years old, little Isaiah has a firmly set mission in life: To find whatever trouble he can, and thoroughly get into it. In our yard, he made a bee-line for the leaky water hose.
“You see what he’s doing?” I asked my daughter.
Moriah shrugged. “It’s just water . . . and mud. He’ll come clean.”
Isaiah picked up the hose and leaned over for a better look, inadvertently squirting himself in the face. He looked up at us, streams of water pouring from his fine blond hair. We were smiling, so he smiled back. He stared at the stream for a moment, and then started lapping at it like a puppy. We laughed while he drenched himself, eventually muddy up to his knees.
According to Catoosa County school social worker Sue Mason, we laughed because we are homeschoolers. We don’t know that children are not supposed to play in the dirt. In her scathing two-part article “My thoughts on homeschooling” and “Homeschooling: the dark side,” Mason presents an alternate reality in which parents homeschool their children just to sleep late and avoid responsibility while their children play in the dirt. I suppose she has never seen all those children on the school playground at recess, playing in the dirt.
I was reluctant to leave the county paper lying around, with columns like these. My teens were really miffed to discover that other homeschooled kids are allowed to sleep late and play in the dirt all day. They had some hard questions about why I made them come to history class at 7:00 a.m. for so many years.
Mason attempts to deflect any objections to her column with the caveat that there are some good homeschool families, and she is not talking about them. Yet, for the length of two articles she goes on about homeschool families who live in trailers, are unemployed, and allow their children to play in the dirt all day long.
In seventeen years of homeschooling, I have never met the homeschool families Mason describes. In fact, Mason’s first homeschool column does not feature a single homeschool family. Instead, she writes about public school parents who cannot make it to school on time, who pay the cable bill but neglect the power bill, and who buy tattoos instead of shoes. If these accusations are drawn from actual cases in our county, Mason should be under fire for printing them in the county paper rather than adhering to confidentiality. If they are not actual scenarios, then they are just lies.
If the stories are true, they are stories of public school parents. When these parents are threatened with court action for their children’s tardies, they remind the county social worker that public education is not mandatory; they can always homeschool their children if they so choose. Mason thinks it is terrible that parents have this freedom and “there is nothing I can do.”
Is it really a bad thing that parents have a way to push back? They are our children, after all. The public school system sometimes behaves like a bureaucratic bully, running over individuals. I have a daughter in public school this year. She's a straight-A high school student working a year ahead of others her age. I still have to stand up for her to get her needs met. I am nice about it, but it goes without saying that if the school system does not offer this brilliant student the opportunities she deserves, they will lose her back to homeschooling.
Homeschooling is not a privilege. Rather, the public school is the one enjoying the privilege of having my talented daughter among their students. Granted, it is not too much to ask that she be to school on time! And she is. But the principle is the same: Families who do not get what they need and want from the public school system have the right to use private or homeschooling instead.
If a particular family needs a different schedule than the public school offers, homeschooling is one way to do that. So long as the child is learning, why should it matter whether classes are held during the morning, afternoon or evening? Learning is organic, and is not really confined to hours or classrooms.What we sometimes forget in this whole discussion is that homeschooling isn't some novel idea. As in the breastfeeding/formula debate, homeschooling IS normal and has been practiced for thousands of years. Sending your kids off to school is the novel idea.
Even today, every parent on the planet homeschools for the first weeks, months or years of the child’s life. We teach our children to walk and talk, processes far more complex than anything learned in grades K-12, and no one suggests that ordinary parents are incapable of teaching their own children to do these things.
The school social worker does not like that public education is not mandatory. Education is mandatory, but not public education. Before homeschooling became popular again, parents did not know they had that option. Parents like the ones she describes (that is, poor) could not afford private education, so they were at the mercy of the public school system. Now, suddenly, parents who are pushed around are pushing back. They are saying, "No, you can't bully me, because the truth is my child doesn't have to be in your school in the first place." And on that score, they are correct.
#
This weekend my grandson came over to the house to play. Almost two years old, little Isaiah has a firmly set mission in life: To find whatever trouble he can, and thoroughly get into it. In our yard, he made a bee-line for the leaky water hose.
“You see what he’s doing?” I asked my daughter.
Moriah shrugged. “It’s just water . . . and mud. He’ll come clean.”
Isaiah picked up the hose and leaned over for a better look, inadvertently squirting himself in the face. He looked up at us, streams of water pouring from his fine blond hair. We were smiling, so he smiled back. He stared at the stream for a moment, and then started lapping at it like a puppy. We laughed while he drenched himself, eventually muddy up to his knees.
According to Catoosa County school social worker Sue Mason, we laughed because we are homeschoolers. We don’t know that children are not supposed to play in the dirt. In her scathing two-part article “My thoughts on homeschooling” and “Homeschooling: the dark side,” Mason presents an alternate reality in which parents homeschool their children just to sleep late and avoid responsibility while their children play in the dirt. I suppose she has never seen all those children on the school playground at recess, playing in the dirt.
I was reluctant to leave the county paper lying around, with columns like these. My teens were really miffed to discover that other homeschooled kids are allowed to sleep late and play in the dirt all day. They had some hard questions about why I made them come to history class at 7:00 a.m. for so many years.
Mason attempts to deflect any objections to her column with the caveat that there are some good homeschool families, and she is not talking about them. Yet, for the length of two articles she goes on about homeschool families who live in trailers, are unemployed, and allow their children to play in the dirt all day long.
In seventeen years of homeschooling, I have never met the homeschool families Mason describes. In fact, Mason’s first homeschool column does not feature a single homeschool family. Instead, she writes about public school parents who cannot make it to school on time, who pay the cable bill but neglect the power bill, and who buy tattoos instead of shoes. If these accusations are drawn from actual cases in our county, Mason should be under fire for printing them in the county paper rather than adhering to confidentiality. If they are not actual scenarios, then they are just lies.
If the stories are true, they are stories of public school parents. When these parents are threatened with court action for their children’s tardies, they remind the county social worker that public education is not mandatory; they can always homeschool their children if they so choose. Mason thinks it is terrible that parents have this freedom and “there is nothing I can do.”
Is it really a bad thing that parents have a way to push back? They are our children, after all. The public school system sometimes behaves like a bureaucratic bully, running over individuals. I have a daughter in public school this year. She's a straight-A high school student working a year ahead of others her age. I still have to stand up for her to get her needs met. I am nice about it, but it goes without saying that if the school system does not offer this brilliant student the opportunities she deserves, they will lose her back to homeschooling.
Homeschooling is not a privilege. Rather, the public school is the one enjoying the privilege of having my talented daughter among their students. Granted, it is not too much to ask that she be to school on time! And she is. But the principle is the same: Families who do not get what they need and want from the public school system have the right to use private or homeschooling instead.
If a particular family needs a different schedule than the public school offers, homeschooling is one way to do that. So long as the child is learning, why should it matter whether classes are held during the morning, afternoon or evening? Learning is organic, and is not really confined to hours or classrooms.What we sometimes forget in this whole discussion is that homeschooling isn't some novel idea. As in the breastfeeding/formula debate, homeschooling IS normal and has been practiced for thousands of years. Sending your kids off to school is the novel idea.
Even today, every parent on the planet homeschools for the first weeks, months or years of the child’s life. We teach our children to walk and talk, processes far more complex than anything learned in grades K-12, and no one suggests that ordinary parents are incapable of teaching their own children to do these things.
The school social worker does not like that public education is not mandatory. Education is mandatory, but not public education. Before homeschooling became popular again, parents did not know they had that option. Parents like the ones she describes (that is, poor) could not afford private education, so they were at the mercy of the public school system. Now, suddenly, parents who are pushed around are pushing back. They are saying, "No, you can't bully me, because the truth is my child doesn't have to be in your school in the first place." And on that score, they are correct.
#
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