Dear Family and Friends,
This past semester in college did a number on me. I feel a bit wrung out. I just wrapped up another religion class, Theology 301. For a while there, I thought I had everything pretty much figured out, which is usually the first big clue that I am totally lost. And when I feel lost and messed up, I am ironically closer. Isn’t that refreshing? The questions are what lead us to reach beyond ourselves, don’t you think?
I shared Theology class with six amazing people, and our guide was a remarkable professor, named, Barbara Brown Taylor. Google her name on the internet and you will understand why I would be at a loss for words if I were to try to describe who she is.
As a class, we wrestled with some pretty big things in Christian Theology. Each of us comes from a slightly different religious tradition, and yet, we found ways to come together. We found the in-between places. It’s all in the seams. Those are the places we can tear apart, and they are also the places where we can do our mending.
So, this is the place from where I am coming--a place where I just spent the past month working on a ten point personal credo, a project that worked on me much more than I worked on it. For me, personally, it is a place of reconciliation. It’s in the seams where I find the paradox of a benevolent God and human suffering.
I discovered that I’ve actually been working on mending those seams for years, and I didn’t even realize it. It is why I write that silly Christmas poem every year, why I indulge in making fun of myself throughout this blog, and why I continue to write a weekly advice column for the newspaper. I have been mending those seams. It’s why I have found laugh lines and smile lines in the mirror as I get closer to middle age. I have been laughing for years. I’ve been reconciling my faith in a benevolent God and my recognition of human suffering all this time, and I didn’t even know it.
I mend the seams when I tell you about raising teenagers. Talk about suffering! Teenagers can break a parent’s heart. It’s why Adrian wrote the song about being a father of teenage girls, he lovingly titled, “Shut Up and Give Me Yo’ Money.”
It’s why I hold on to the story of when Jolie was in kindergarten, and wouldn’t let me drop her off. She made me carry her, and walk her in every single day. I tried to be firm, but I gave up when she kicked the little old man who was the crossing guard, as hard as she could, when he opened my car door, to offer my curly haired, 30 pound midget his hand.
Jolie never wanted to go to school, and yet, she finally made it to the end when she graduated this May. And let me tell you, it wasn’t easy to get there for either one of us.
It is why I can laugh about the entire journey of calamities and mishaps it took to get there. I cannot express in words how proud we were of all her honors and accomplishments the night she walked across the stage. And it is why we released 12 balloons into the air for her Boompa when she walked acorss the stage. 12 balloons represented the 12 steps of A.A. that gave my father hope for the last 24 years of his life, signifying that when a broken heart is mended, it becomes stronger than before. She earned that diploma and several theatre awards, with her courage to find hope in a life that had seen too many hardships for one little girl.
Jolie found her smile. It shone brighter than the stadium lights that night she graduated. She is moving on with her life, in love with Dylan, her high school sweetheart. She will begin her studies of dance and yoga in January, and hopes to be an instructor of both when she “grows up.” She’s working, saving money, and enjoying the life of an optimistic, hopeful, energetic, deeply spiritual young woman, mending her seams as she goes.
It is why Sydney found her calling of being a stand- up comedian when she was only two years old. It is why she tells me to “Just we-wax” when I am about to blow my top, the same way she’s always said “we-wax” before years of speech therapy, advising the world to just relax and stay calm. She once said it after she had poured gallons and gallons of water in her bedroom, turned up the air conditioner, ran some fans, all in a tremendous attempt to turn her room into an ice skating rink. She managed to keep me calm when I discovered the mess. Within minutes, I found the funny in it. Sydney has this ability to make people smile, even when they are hurting. She’s down- right hilarious, and when she laughs, I hear God. It is like an earthquake.
With the challenges she has always faced in school, trying to navigate through learning disabilities, I can honestly say that in tenth grade, she has come out the other side. She just made the second highest grade of her class on her state biology exam.
In fifth grade, when Sydney was reading on the kindergarten level, her teacher told me she was “not used to teaching children who were not gifted” as her excuse to why she didn’t like my daughter. Ha! Talk about gifted! Sydney is one of the most gifted people I know. She has big plans to go to college and major in biology. She wants to be a doctor. In the meantime, she stays busy working on her beautiful paintings at home, and in the theater, she makes people laugh with her out of this world talent in improvisation, all the while, mending her seams. If the doctor thing doesn’t work out, I highly recommend her to audition for Saturday Night Live as a back- up plan.
It is how I can hear an honorable masterpiece while listening to the various honks, squeaks, and toots coming from Fischer’s trumpet as he practices for the Middle School band. It is why I drive him to and from school every day so he won’t have to ride the bus anymore, and how he can make up funny songs about all the awful things he learned from riding that bus earlier in the school year. You know, songs about kids his age who download pornography on their cell phones, while they dip snuff and talk about smoking pot.
I’d like to say it’s a “different world” these days, and how the youth is self destructing before our eyes, but if you know my 11 year old son, Fischer, it would give you a bunch of hope for our future. If it rests in the hands of children like him, who instinctively know how to stand up for what is good and righteous, we will all be just fine.
Fischer is doing another round of torture… I mean physical therapy. He was in two stretching casts last winter and learned how to pop wheelies in a wheel chair. But now his tendons are contracted and as tight as ever before. Part of the problem is that he is growing so darn fast. He’s taller than me when he is wearing his new orthotics. He is in constant physical pain, and some other boys still make fun of him. Fischer takes it all in stride, and he knows that he is one lucky child to be able to get around physically, even if it hurts.
Fischer has discovered his musical gifts this year. The honks and squeaks have blossomed into music other people besides his mama, can appreciate. He has earned the second chair out of 24 trumpet players, and that even had to be decided with a tie breaker. He is also a self taught guitarist, one of those folks who can hear a song, and then play it from his heart. With a brain like his, that can retain such enormous amounts of information; that kid is going places. As he mends his seams, he brings us hope.
It is why Mollie is the sweetest and weirdest kid I know. It is why I collect her prayers, like the ones where she earnestly prays for physically “ugly people...because they just can’t help it, God.” It’s in all the ways that she has learned way too much, too early, from having older siblings, who teach her all the stuff I used to teach my little sister. It’s called what goes around, comes around. She’s corrupted just enough to make her funny, and yet her heart remains so pure and kind. It is evident in her drawings, where she can knock out that wonderful outdoor scene that 8 year olds all over this world are famous for: the ones with a tree, a sunshine, some flowers, and some birds. Only hers have such depth and perspective in the “angry mobs” she draws coming down the hill in the background.
Mollie participated for the third year in a row, in being a cheerleader for the White County Tiny Mite Football Team. She is quite the cutie pie on the field at half time, doing her dance routine. She is my only child who claims to love school. She is a voracious reader too. Mollie continues to be the happiest kid on the block, as she mends the seams that she is only beginning to discover.
It is how Nicholas stays out of trouble. I fear that if Nicholas had been a blessing to a different kind of family, his spirit would have been broken by now with well-meaning parents who would have tried to teach that boy a lesson or two. As we mend the seams, we’ve learned that children teach us way more than we could dream of teaching them, especially children like Nicholas.
He takes things apart, and the cost of his destruction must have reached into the thousands by now. Nicholas has a built- in- radar for things like screwdrivers. He has disemboweled my entire computer in less than ten minutes. After seeing this horror, I figured I’d put all the pieces in a bag and haul it back to our computer guy, again (Nicholas has crashed this computer 5 times, he’s been resetting my password and settings since he was four years old, you know, the age he was when some doctor in Atlanta diagnosed him with being retarded.) By the time I got ready to take the computer, I found Nicholas sitting on the floor, putting the whole thing back together, piece by piece. I just watched. He turned it back on, and that computer worked better than it ever had before.
Nicholas will be 7 in February. He has not outgrown clothes or shoes for two years, and still hasn’t made it past 30 pounds, but may I tell you how pleased I am that he is finally officially out of diapers! He is in first grade, and is doing so well that his special ed teacher told me that she finds it challenging to set goals for him, because he keeps mastering them. He may do things a different way, but we feel so grateful that he is in a school environment where he is well loved. He comes home often smelling of his teacher’s perfume, and I know it is from the hugs he gets. His teachers guide him to follow the routine, but they still allow him to be himself. Nicholas helps a lot of people mend their seams just by being his special little self.
People always tell me they don’t know how I do it all, being a busy mother and all. But honestly, I don’t know how Adrian does it all. I know the children and I have driven that sweet man out of his mind, and yet, he still claims to know us in public. He literally holds this whole shindig in his hands. He is our fiercest protector. He is our gentle teacher. He is the smartest and wisest human being I know. And just being with him, makes me want to be a better person.
It is hard to believe that it’s only been thirteen years since he asked my daddy for my hand in marriage. Oh, I could just cry when I think of all the heartbreaks we went through before we met, and how somehow, very mysteriously, we helped each other mend the seams of our brokenness. Together, we become so much more than we ever could have been as separate people. Love does that. Love mends the seams.
And so it brings me back to my theology class, as I wrestled with questions about human suffering and the benevolence of God. I haven’t found the answers, but I find my peace, right here at the appropriate time of the year... where there are reminders everywhere I look: with lights on trees, wreaths on doors, busy shoppers in the stores, stockings on the mantel, Santa ringing the Salvation Army bell, and nativities displayed. It is Christmas: a time we remember that God so loved the world, that He sent His only begotten Son to mend the seams. It’s all a love story. It is about being torn apart and being mended back together over and over again, constantly.
Merry Christmas!
Xoxo Abigail
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Thursday, May 31, 2012
The World According to Mollie
Last night, Adrian and I read Mollie's 2nd grade journal from school. I don't think I have laughed and cried so hard in a long time. The entries were so sweet. Her drawings were excellent. She wrote about things she did on the weekends, about losing her dog Patches, about her family, and about her hopes and dreams. It was inspiring to us to be able to get inside Mollie's head for a while. She is so creative and funny. Although, I must say we were a little bit embarrassed by some of the entries that her teacher probably read in school, such as "On the weekend I didn't do ennything. I just watched a movie repetedly and played Zhu Zhu pets." I wonder if her teacher thinks we are alcoholics who just let our precious daughter watch hours and hours of television. How about this one...
How You Can Show Your Respect by Mollie age 7
1. Keep hands and feet to your self.
2. Do not blert (blurt) out.
3. Do not tell someone a seacret (secret) in the middle of class.
4. Do not grab a hand full of marbles.
Rules That No One Cares About
1. Do not get out of your seat and shake your booty in front of the class.
2. Do not run around naked.
3. Do not run around in a beceni (bikini) drinking beer.
4. Do not get drunk in school.
5. Do not barf on some one.
6. Do not burp in some ones face.
7. Do not fart on some one.
And here are the reasons to follow the rules according to Mollie
Because if you tallk at appropiate times you will be able to lern and live a good life and if you don't you will not lern and if you don't lern you will not go to 3rd grade you will have to be held bak and when you finly get to 4th grade then 5th then 6th then a lot and get to middl school you will not go to colage and if you do not go to colage you will not get a job and if you do not get a job you will not get money and if you do not get money you won't get your needs you will be cold, hungry, wet, and unhappy and if your unhappy you will be sad.
Paches (Patches) by Mollie age 7 (This one made me cry)
Paches is my dog. She died. I miss her a lot. Before she had my family as a family another family did not like her one bit but paches is now ares (ours) still even thow (though) she is buryed in are back yard whith gorgus red flowers whith sinamin (Cinnamon) and Gigit. I feel like crying when I read this but it just won't come out.
(This one made me cry because I thought about my dad)
When I grow up I want to be a baby doctor so I can see lots of cute new borns and so I can help people and I'll enceroge (encourage) pecents (patients) if they have a seesection (C Section) and I'll be the nicest doctor so when I grow up you whold no longer call me Mollie. You whold call me Dr. Cutchshaw.
Here's her entry about her research project
I loved doing my research it was awsome. I lerned a lot about Jupiter and it is freezing cold on Jupiter and 1,000 Earths could fit in Jupiter. Jupiter is cool, fantastic, awsome, and amazing. It is the best planet in the world but Earth is a little better than Jupiter because if there was no Earth I wholdn't even egsist (exist) achuly (actually) no one whold egsist so Jupiter is my second favrit planet and Earth is my first favorit and I'd like to visit there once.
A Thanksgiving Story
Hello! My name is Gobbles. I am a turkey and I am here to tell you about the story of when I almost got eaten by ten coo coo humans. One day I wandered off in the woods and I saw three angry, hungry, and ugly hunters they saw me and tryed to shoot me but insted they got my friend meowy he's a mixed up turkey he says meow and he has 8 light pink wings. He was wered (weird) then a family saw me not 1, not 2, not 3, not 4, not 5. not 6. not 7, not 8, not 9 but 10 people were in the family so I jumped on 1 face at a time flapping my wings and then I would peck them till they cry and they never messed with me again.
A Christmas Story
If I could give a gift to the world I would give peace to the world, the best Christmas they could ever ask for, love, and forgiveness. Merry Christmas world.
Twas the night befor Christmas and all throu the house not a creacher (creature)was stering (stirring) not even a mouse. The stocking were hung by the chemniny with care in hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
Wiley was all nestled all snug in her bed,
Rexy was sleeping in her cage whith a strawberry under her head.
Santa landed on the house whith a big bump,
Whitch gave my cat goosebumps.
He gave Wiley a real horse and me too,
Nicholas got a little train that said choo choo.
And Fischer (her big brother) was Noughty so he got poo poo.
If there was no gravity by Mollie age 7
If there was no gravity I whould be floting rite now. My house whould be floting. Even the computer and we could get on our baks and swim in the air! It whouldn't be lame. It whould be cool! We whould run in the air, jump in the air, we whould even do backflips in the air. If I was in the air I whould yell yippy yahoo yah! I whould be swerling, and twerling, and I'd be doing loopty loops, sumer salts, cart wheels, and splits in the air. I'd love it, just love it.
If I lived 100 years ago by Mollie age 7
If I lived 100 years ago I whold ride my bike to school and for lunch I whoold eat froots and vegies and I whood eat biscuts and I whood not stare at the t.v. for a long, long, long, long time like I do now and I whood not play whith my grandmas wii and play epic mickey.
Who I admire by Mollie age 7
I admire James from Big Time Rush cus he is hot he's funny and when he dosent sing he probleblee is very pulite and I admire him cus he is a singer and I also admire snooky cus she's famis. (famous)
This is why I love America. I dearly love my good friends and I think that the laws are grate and I think the word America is an awsome name of a place like this.
If I went to outer space by Mollie age 7
If I went to outer space I gess I whold go to the milky way, the iner planets, the outer planets, and the astroid belt. It whold be so cool, awsome, fabulas, and magnefusent but I whold whatch out for blackholes and I whold try to do the moon walk on the moon and whold bounce very high when I walk.
What I did this weekend by Mollie age 7
This weekend I didn't do any thing. I just cleaned up the bace ment, gave my gerble a grape, and wached t.v.
Veteran's Day by Mollie age 7
Veteran's Day means a lot to me beacas my grandpa died in the army when I was a baby and my unkle died in the army befor I was born (I think Mollie is a bit confused how Adrian's dad and brother died) and my dad survived the army and people in the army even the nurses for the army helped our country becus the Verterans fight for our country then some one gets hurt he goes to the nurse and the nurse helps him to fight so then he fights for our country they even die for us they are very enportant.
The Sparton By Mollie age 7
Spartons are cinedove (kind of) like knights. Boys think they are cool. Some girls think they are cool too and my brother knows a lot about them. Ofcors (of course) he knows a lot. He's in 5th grade. Spartons have things on there helmets that look like a broom that some custodieons have. They are so cool!
Weekend!!! by Mollie age 7
On the weekend I just sat around waching songe bob. I went to my grandmas house and I call her Susu and at Susu's house I saw my cuson (cousin) Hosford but I didn't see my baby cuson Prire (Pryor) hes mighty cute. O and did I menchen (mention) Susu's dog Gretchen was crazy about seeing me and I also played out side whith Hosford and Gretchen it was so much fun.
What I like to do at Recess by Mollie age 7
I like to sing, play shef (chef), Bad side and Good side!, sing, dance, sing and dance at the same time, slide, chase, tag, transformers, and play cool/ famis (famous)/ hot/ populer girls.
Oh, I just love this little girl. Reading her school journal was so much fun. I wish I had time to share all the entries. They are so precious. Reading her ideas reminds me not to let go of my own imagination. And of course, it reminds me not to run around in a bikini drinking beer in school and not to fart on any one.
How You Can Show Your Respect by Mollie age 7
1. Keep hands and feet to your self.
2. Do not blert (blurt) out.
3. Do not tell someone a seacret (secret) in the middle of class.
4. Do not grab a hand full of marbles.
Rules That No One Cares About
1. Do not get out of your seat and shake your booty in front of the class.
2. Do not run around naked.
3. Do not run around in a beceni (bikini) drinking beer.
4. Do not get drunk in school.
5. Do not barf on some one.
6. Do not burp in some ones face.
7. Do not fart on some one.
And here are the reasons to follow the rules according to Mollie
Because if you tallk at appropiate times you will be able to lern and live a good life and if you don't you will not lern and if you don't lern you will not go to 3rd grade you will have to be held bak and when you finly get to 4th grade then 5th then 6th then a lot and get to middl school you will not go to colage and if you do not go to colage you will not get a job and if you do not get a job you will not get money and if you do not get money you won't get your needs you will be cold, hungry, wet, and unhappy and if your unhappy you will be sad.
Paches (Patches) by Mollie age 7 (This one made me cry)
Paches is my dog. She died. I miss her a lot. Before she had my family as a family another family did not like her one bit but paches is now ares (ours) still even thow (though) she is buryed in are back yard whith gorgus red flowers whith sinamin (Cinnamon) and Gigit. I feel like crying when I read this but it just won't come out.
(This one made me cry because I thought about my dad)
When I grow up I want to be a baby doctor so I can see lots of cute new borns and so I can help people and I'll enceroge (encourage) pecents (patients) if they have a seesection (C Section) and I'll be the nicest doctor so when I grow up you whold no longer call me Mollie. You whold call me Dr. Cutchshaw.
Here's her entry about her research project
I loved doing my research it was awsome. I lerned a lot about Jupiter and it is freezing cold on Jupiter and 1,000 Earths could fit in Jupiter. Jupiter is cool, fantastic, awsome, and amazing. It is the best planet in the world but Earth is a little better than Jupiter because if there was no Earth I wholdn't even egsist (exist) achuly (actually) no one whold egsist so Jupiter is my second favrit planet and Earth is my first favorit and I'd like to visit there once.
A Thanksgiving Story
Hello! My name is Gobbles. I am a turkey and I am here to tell you about the story of when I almost got eaten by ten coo coo humans. One day I wandered off in the woods and I saw three angry, hungry, and ugly hunters they saw me and tryed to shoot me but insted they got my friend meowy he's a mixed up turkey he says meow and he has 8 light pink wings. He was wered (weird) then a family saw me not 1, not 2, not 3, not 4, not 5. not 6. not 7, not 8, not 9 but 10 people were in the family so I jumped on 1 face at a time flapping my wings and then I would peck them till they cry and they never messed with me again.
A Christmas Story
If I could give a gift to the world I would give peace to the world, the best Christmas they could ever ask for, love, and forgiveness. Merry Christmas world.
Twas the night befor Christmas and all throu the house not a creacher (creature)was stering (stirring) not even a mouse. The stocking were hung by the chemniny with care in hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
Wiley was all nestled all snug in her bed,
Rexy was sleeping in her cage whith a strawberry under her head.
Santa landed on the house whith a big bump,
Whitch gave my cat goosebumps.
He gave Wiley a real horse and me too,
Nicholas got a little train that said choo choo.
And Fischer (her big brother) was Noughty so he got poo poo.
If there was no gravity by Mollie age 7
If there was no gravity I whould be floting rite now. My house whould be floting. Even the computer and we could get on our baks and swim in the air! It whouldn't be lame. It whould be cool! We whould run in the air, jump in the air, we whould even do backflips in the air. If I was in the air I whould yell yippy yahoo yah! I whould be swerling, and twerling, and I'd be doing loopty loops, sumer salts, cart wheels, and splits in the air. I'd love it, just love it.
If I lived 100 years ago by Mollie age 7
If I lived 100 years ago I whold ride my bike to school and for lunch I whoold eat froots and vegies and I whood eat biscuts and I whood not stare at the t.v. for a long, long, long, long time like I do now and I whood not play whith my grandmas wii and play epic mickey.
Who I admire by Mollie age 7
I admire James from Big Time Rush cus he is hot he's funny and when he dosent sing he probleblee is very pulite and I admire him cus he is a singer and I also admire snooky cus she's famis. (famous)
This is why I love America. I dearly love my good friends and I think that the laws are grate and I think the word America is an awsome name of a place like this.
If I went to outer space by Mollie age 7
If I went to outer space I gess I whold go to the milky way, the iner planets, the outer planets, and the astroid belt. It whold be so cool, awsome, fabulas, and magnefusent but I whold whatch out for blackholes and I whold try to do the moon walk on the moon and whold bounce very high when I walk.
What I did this weekend by Mollie age 7
This weekend I didn't do any thing. I just cleaned up the bace ment, gave my gerble a grape, and wached t.v.
Veteran's Day by Mollie age 7
Veteran's Day means a lot to me beacas my grandpa died in the army when I was a baby and my unkle died in the army befor I was born (I think Mollie is a bit confused how Adrian's dad and brother died) and my dad survived the army and people in the army even the nurses for the army helped our country becus the Verterans fight for our country then some one gets hurt he goes to the nurse and the nurse helps him to fight so then he fights for our country they even die for us they are very enportant.
The Sparton By Mollie age 7
Spartons are cinedove (kind of) like knights. Boys think they are cool. Some girls think they are cool too and my brother knows a lot about them. Ofcors (of course) he knows a lot. He's in 5th grade. Spartons have things on there helmets that look like a broom that some custodieons have. They are so cool!
Weekend!!! by Mollie age 7
On the weekend I just sat around waching songe bob. I went to my grandmas house and I call her Susu and at Susu's house I saw my cuson (cousin) Hosford but I didn't see my baby cuson Prire (Pryor) hes mighty cute. O and did I menchen (mention) Susu's dog Gretchen was crazy about seeing me and I also played out side whith Hosford and Gretchen it was so much fun.
What I like to do at Recess by Mollie age 7
I like to sing, play shef (chef), Bad side and Good side!, sing, dance, sing and dance at the same time, slide, chase, tag, transformers, and play cool/ famis (famous)/ hot/ populer girls.
Oh, I just love this little girl. Reading her school journal was so much fun. I wish I had time to share all the entries. They are so precious. Reading her ideas reminds me not to let go of my own imagination. And of course, it reminds me not to run around in a bikini drinking beer in school and not to fart on any one.
Friday, May 4, 2012
The Butterfly
Nearly eighteen years ago, I was holding a newborn baby in my arms, in total shock. "Is this baby really mine?" "What am I supposed to do?" "I don't think I am qualified for this responsibility." "What if I drop her?" "What if I don't wake up when she cries, and she starves to death?" "How do you dress this fragile little blob?" "She's so tiny, what if I break her?"
Luckily, my instincts kicked in, surprising me every day that I was actually capable of being a mother. It was still daunting, though. I was terrified every single day until she was about three years old, when I realized how resilient she was, and that she wasn't as breakable as she looked.
From the time she was three until she was about fourteen, I ignorantly believed I was the best mother on the planet. By this time, I had brought in four more children into the world, and I pretty much felt confident that I knew what I was doing. Mothering came naturally. I loved rocking my babies, singing to them, reading to them, teaching them neat things like how to use a toilet, and the names of flowers and bugs. I taught them to not talk to strangers at the same time teaching them to be tolerant and loving of everyone. I helped them with school work. I taught them to do their best. Their successes became my own. I truly felt that since they were so special and wonderful, that it must be because of ME. Boy, did I have a lot to learn. 'Cause when you get on an ego trip like that, the universe typically gives you a lesson in humility.
My lesson came wrapped up in a beautiful teenager. Let me tell you new mothers out there: be ware of this package. Once you open this package, you will doubt everything you feel successful about as a mother. This package comes with several challenging lessons. It will test your ability to love unconditionally. Isn't that horrible? When you look at your child, you think you will always love them unconditionally, but that faith must be tested. Because being critical, judgmental, non- understanding, and intolerant are not examples of unconditional love. And I am sad to say that I became all of those things as a mother of a teenager.
The love affair you have with your child changes when they start to pull away from you. And that's a teenager's job. Their job is to emerge from your protective cocoon and begin stretching their wings. It is a painful process. All I wanted to do was to keep my baby in the cocoon, and all she wanted to do was to break away from it. It was tough. It made me sad. Every mistake she made, I felt the need to correct. Every time she had a new opinion about the world, I judged it. Every time she wanted to try out her independence, I was not as understanding as I should have been. Every time she had new feelings about herself, I became intolerant. I invalidated her feelings constantly. I couldn't help it. It all blindsided me. I thought I was going to be a cool mom to a teenager, but I wasn't. At least not consistently. Don't get me wrong, I had a few good moments in the mix, but overall, if I had a do over button, I would have put duct tape over my mouth more often. I would have told her I was proud of her more often too.
Thank God she really is resilient. Because I look at her now, just a few weeks from graduating from high school, and I see a beautiful, loving, hard working, deeply spiritual young lady. I see a young lady who is compassionate, loyal, smart, and kind. And she became all these things on her own. Certainly not because of me. I am just really, really grateful I got a front seat to watch her emerge from the cocoon, because it is absolutely awesome watching those fragile, wet wings stretch into something strong enough to carry her as she flies away to new places.
Jolie Suzanne, you are a beautiful butterfly, and I am honored to be your mother.
Friday, March 30, 2012
Sadistics and Eating Fish out of the Aquarium
And I thought that last semester's computer class was going to kill me. No, it seems that class was preparing me for the torture of this semester's Sadistic, I mean, Statistics class. Torture, I tell ya. Pure torture. It is just not good for a person to take this class when she hasn't had a math class in 20 years. Luckily, I have a nice professor. She seems to feel a little bit sorry for me. It probably has a little something to do with the fact that I come into her office a lot for help. On the second day, I showed up to her office, lookin' all nervous and stressed out. She offered to explain the basic formula we were learning, mentioning how simple it was. I was like, "Oh, I get the formula. I just don't know how to multiply fractions. " After that, she took pity on me.
In fact, every class demonstration she does, she looks straight at me and asks the whole class if they are understanding what's going on before she moves on. She waits for me. If I nod, she moves forward. If I look confused, she explains it all again. So, I realize just how lucky I am. This professor either likes me, or she hates me and wants to make sure she doesn't have me in her class ever again. I can imagine her thinking, "If Abigail gets it, then everyone gets it. And I must make sure Abigail gets this so she won't fail and have to take this all over again. Because let's face it, she won't really get this the second time around either."
The last time I came into her office, my eyes were blood shot from staying up all night, crying over my homework. I whined, "I am really struggling." And she said, "I don't think so, your grades are good." And I was like, "But I spend 8 hours a night doing the assignments and I just don't think it should take a human that long." But it turns out, that yes, it should, and it does.
I decided to ask my classmates how they were doing. I got very scientific and asked, "On a scale from 1 to 10, how hard is this class?" And what is your major and how smart are you when it comes to math?" Oh, boy! Was I ever thrilled when nursing, math, and science majors who claim to be smart, told me that this class was a 10.
When you feel dumb, it is great to hang out with other people who feel dumb too. It makes you feel less dumb. Maybe that's why I like hanging out with my children so much. Not that they are dumb, but let's face it, teenagers are absolutely retarded, and being around them makes me feel very wise and smart. My younger children are just learning new things all the time and I look like the smartest person in the world just because I can tie my own shoes and I know which button to push when I run the dishwasher.
There are only a few more weeks of school left. It really is too bad that I haven't been able to focus as much energy on my other classes that I really love this semester, like: German, English, and Theatre. My brain can only do so much. I am telling you, every time I leave my math class, I literally feel like someone has taken a shovel and scooped out part of my brain and thrown it on the sidewalk where a big dog has come by and eaten it all up. Gross, I know, but it's how it really feels. So, by the time I get to German class, which is my favorite, Eine Hunde hast geessent meine braineschluaffen. (that really doesn't say a dog has eaten my brain, but it's close.) It's like when I went around my kids' bedroom screaming, "Ich bin Freitag!" Thinking I was saying, "I'ts Friday!" But really, I was just saying, "I am Friday!" Which maybe I was that day.
I am always trying to speak in a different language. I studied French for 8 years. 8 years! And when I was teaching preschool in New Mexico, one of my students was the son of a famous French skier who had moved his family to Taos to run a ski shop and train for the Olympics. This little boy was so cute, but he didn't speak very much English, so I tried to speak French now and then to make him feel comfortable. I stopped doing that when I had the kids in circle time and I reached behind me to feed the fish in our aquarium. I said, "Je mange les poison." And he broke down and cried. I had told the poor kid I was going to eat the fish.
God bless all the math teachers in the world. God bless all the students who struggle, trying to make their lives better. And God bless all the preschool teachers who really do eat the fish out of the aquarium. Amen.
In fact, every class demonstration she does, she looks straight at me and asks the whole class if they are understanding what's going on before she moves on. She waits for me. If I nod, she moves forward. If I look confused, she explains it all again. So, I realize just how lucky I am. This professor either likes me, or she hates me and wants to make sure she doesn't have me in her class ever again. I can imagine her thinking, "If Abigail gets it, then everyone gets it. And I must make sure Abigail gets this so she won't fail and have to take this all over again. Because let's face it, she won't really get this the second time around either."
The last time I came into her office, my eyes were blood shot from staying up all night, crying over my homework. I whined, "I am really struggling." And she said, "I don't think so, your grades are good." And I was like, "But I spend 8 hours a night doing the assignments and I just don't think it should take a human that long." But it turns out, that yes, it should, and it does.
I decided to ask my classmates how they were doing. I got very scientific and asked, "On a scale from 1 to 10, how hard is this class?" And what is your major and how smart are you when it comes to math?" Oh, boy! Was I ever thrilled when nursing, math, and science majors who claim to be smart, told me that this class was a 10.
When you feel dumb, it is great to hang out with other people who feel dumb too. It makes you feel less dumb. Maybe that's why I like hanging out with my children so much. Not that they are dumb, but let's face it, teenagers are absolutely retarded, and being around them makes me feel very wise and smart. My younger children are just learning new things all the time and I look like the smartest person in the world just because I can tie my own shoes and I know which button to push when I run the dishwasher.
There are only a few more weeks of school left. It really is too bad that I haven't been able to focus as much energy on my other classes that I really love this semester, like: German, English, and Theatre. My brain can only do so much. I am telling you, every time I leave my math class, I literally feel like someone has taken a shovel and scooped out part of my brain and thrown it on the sidewalk where a big dog has come by and eaten it all up. Gross, I know, but it's how it really feels. So, by the time I get to German class, which is my favorite, Eine Hunde hast geessent meine braineschluaffen. (that really doesn't say a dog has eaten my brain, but it's close.) It's like when I went around my kids' bedroom screaming, "Ich bin Freitag!" Thinking I was saying, "I'ts Friday!" But really, I was just saying, "I am Friday!" Which maybe I was that day.
I am always trying to speak in a different language. I studied French for 8 years. 8 years! And when I was teaching preschool in New Mexico, one of my students was the son of a famous French skier who had moved his family to Taos to run a ski shop and train for the Olympics. This little boy was so cute, but he didn't speak very much English, so I tried to speak French now and then to make him feel comfortable. I stopped doing that when I had the kids in circle time and I reached behind me to feed the fish in our aquarium. I said, "Je mange les poison." And he broke down and cried. I had told the poor kid I was going to eat the fish.
God bless all the math teachers in the world. God bless all the students who struggle, trying to make their lives better. And God bless all the preschool teachers who really do eat the fish out of the aquarium. Amen.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Climbing the Ladder
I am having a hard time comprehending that I actually finished my first semester in college. For many of you who went to college right after high school this may be difficult to understand what the big deal is. To me, it's a huge deal. I wasn't even sure if I could do it. Seriously. My trying attitdue was right, but my head was also filled with doubts. Many doubts.
I waited a long time for my turn to learn. When I was the traditional age of a freshman, I was going through quite a lot. I was living a nightmare, actually. I went away to college but dropped out and took incompletes in everything. I got married when I was 19 and started a family. I taught music lessons, I babysat, a taught preschool for years, but always part time and I brought my children with me. I wanted to be a stay at home mother more than anything in this world. It was important to me that I be the one raising my children, especially when they were babies. I wanted to breast feed them and care for them all the time. So, I decided to wait until my youngest child started kindergarten until I went back to school. I had to wait such a long time because I kept on having babies!
Well, today was my last exam of the semester. I was about to leave my house to drive the 20 miles to my school when I realized I locked my keys in the house. Oh, no. My heart just sank. I have worked so hard, I didn't want the semester to end on the note of me missing my German exam.
I called Adrian. We tried to think of windows I could break. We cannot afford to replace windows right now, so he mentioned the ladder and the back deck being a possibility. It's a sliding glass door and we don't always lock it because it is so high off the ground. He was working so he couldn't really talk. I was in a hurry and on a mission. I got the ladder. It was raining. My shoes were filling up with mud and water. Cold mud and water. I had quite a time maneuvering that huge ladder. It must weigh at least 60 pounds. I was cussin', let me tell you. Cussin' and cryin' in the rain. And the damn ladder got hung up in a tree while I was trying to get it into the right place. I cussed and cried some more. And then I thought, "What am I doing? I cannot climb up there. It's like 13 feet in the air! Plus, the only ladder I have ever climbed is a step stool. I am too fat to climb up this thing. And I am terrified of heights! I get dizzy on the step ladder. Seriously."
After finanlly getting the ladder in the right place, I stepped on the first rung and I prayed. Please don't let me fall. I have five kids. They need a mother. No one will know I am on the ground for hours and hours. I will die. In the mud and probably in the dog shit. Oh, god. I stepped in that too.
I went up one more. Please don't let me fall.
I went up higher and higher. I was the scariest thing ever. And just like going to college, it may not seem like a big deal that I climbed a big ladder, but it is huge to me. And it is raining. And I am totally alone. And I have cold mud, water, and dog shit in my favorite shoes.
I reached the top and realized I didn't exactly know what to do next. Do I hold on to the rail and let go of the ladder? How? Oh, my goodness! I wanted to climb back down right then and there. But I'd made it that far. Why quit now? Gosh, hours and hours must have already passed. I am sure I've missed the exam.
Letting go was the hardest part. I am much too fat to be hoisting myself up on some wooden railing. Maybe I can just let myself fall onto the deck and try to roll to avoid cracking my head. But of course, seeing as how we are rednecks deep down, our broken dishwasher is in the way. And so is the grill. Why our dishwasher is still on the deck is beyond me. Why the hell is it stil out here? That dumb thing flooded the basement from the upstairs kitchen over the summer. Yeah, at the same time our aircondition unit broke when it was 104 degrees outside! That was hell. And I mean that. So is the dishwasher on the back deck as a reminder of how we survived washing dishes for 7 people by hand every day when it was 104 freakin' degrees last summer?
I don't know how I did it, but all at once, I realized both my feet were on the top deck railing and I was off the ladder. It was sooooo high. "Do not look down. I repeat: do not look down," said the little voice in my head.
Of couse I looked down.
The ground was so far away and my dog looked like an ant.
I felt dizzy. I squated down with my big butt in the air and my head pointed down on the deck's floor. I eased one leg down. Slowly. Gently. I began to feel graceful. Like a tighrope walker when they dip one leg down. Only I was wet. And fat. And I had cold mud, water, and dog shit in my shoe. And I was crying.
My leg was dipped down as far as it could go and there was like a foot of air between it at the deck floor. Why do I have to have such short legs? I am stuck. I am stuck in this awkward position. Looking like a mom on crack, playing circus on her back deck, 13 feet above the ground. It's my leg with the bad ankle. The one I shattered in a car accident 17 years ago that aches when it is raining. Why does it have to be raining?
If I jump onto this leg, I may have to just hop to my exam. And watch the sliding glass door be locked. If it is, I will break the whole door with my fist if I have to.
And then, plop! Down I go. No big deal. I am safe. Whew! And the door is unlocked. I run in, get my keys off the key hook, jump in my car, use some handy dandy baby wipes to do a quick clean up on my hands and shoes and sweater. I fly like the wind to my college, get to the parking lot. It is totally full. I park on the street. I run. OK, so I did that weird old lady walk/run thingie. I saw my friend. We high fived each other, in a matter of speaking, for surviving the semester (he has kids and a full plate too) and then I sat down in my desk only 3 minutes late.
It was a miracle. Sorta. I did that whole ladder/ deck scaling thing in about five minutes... though it seemed much longer, lemme tell ya!
It was an appropriate ending to my first semester. I did something I didn't think I could do. I took on 5 college classes and I made a 4.0. When I don't overthink things, and just take things one step or one rung at a time, and PRAY HARD, I can do just about anything. And for me, that's a huge lesson.
And goodness gracious, I'd be a chicken in a hen box if there wasn't a RAINBOW in the sky when I got back home! I tell you what, life is really like that. It really is.
I waited a long time for my turn to learn. When I was the traditional age of a freshman, I was going through quite a lot. I was living a nightmare, actually. I went away to college but dropped out and took incompletes in everything. I got married when I was 19 and started a family. I taught music lessons, I babysat, a taught preschool for years, but always part time and I brought my children with me. I wanted to be a stay at home mother more than anything in this world. It was important to me that I be the one raising my children, especially when they were babies. I wanted to breast feed them and care for them all the time. So, I decided to wait until my youngest child started kindergarten until I went back to school. I had to wait such a long time because I kept on having babies!
Well, today was my last exam of the semester. I was about to leave my house to drive the 20 miles to my school when I realized I locked my keys in the house. Oh, no. My heart just sank. I have worked so hard, I didn't want the semester to end on the note of me missing my German exam.
I called Adrian. We tried to think of windows I could break. We cannot afford to replace windows right now, so he mentioned the ladder and the back deck being a possibility. It's a sliding glass door and we don't always lock it because it is so high off the ground. He was working so he couldn't really talk. I was in a hurry and on a mission. I got the ladder. It was raining. My shoes were filling up with mud and water. Cold mud and water. I had quite a time maneuvering that huge ladder. It must weigh at least 60 pounds. I was cussin', let me tell you. Cussin' and cryin' in the rain. And the damn ladder got hung up in a tree while I was trying to get it into the right place. I cussed and cried some more. And then I thought, "What am I doing? I cannot climb up there. It's like 13 feet in the air! Plus, the only ladder I have ever climbed is a step stool. I am too fat to climb up this thing. And I am terrified of heights! I get dizzy on the step ladder. Seriously."
After finanlly getting the ladder in the right place, I stepped on the first rung and I prayed. Please don't let me fall. I have five kids. They need a mother. No one will know I am on the ground for hours and hours. I will die. In the mud and probably in the dog shit. Oh, god. I stepped in that too.
I went up one more. Please don't let me fall.
I went up higher and higher. I was the scariest thing ever. And just like going to college, it may not seem like a big deal that I climbed a big ladder, but it is huge to me. And it is raining. And I am totally alone. And I have cold mud, water, and dog shit in my favorite shoes.
I reached the top and realized I didn't exactly know what to do next. Do I hold on to the rail and let go of the ladder? How? Oh, my goodness! I wanted to climb back down right then and there. But I'd made it that far. Why quit now? Gosh, hours and hours must have already passed. I am sure I've missed the exam.
Letting go was the hardest part. I am much too fat to be hoisting myself up on some wooden railing. Maybe I can just let myself fall onto the deck and try to roll to avoid cracking my head. But of course, seeing as how we are rednecks deep down, our broken dishwasher is in the way. And so is the grill. Why our dishwasher is still on the deck is beyond me. Why the hell is it stil out here? That dumb thing flooded the basement from the upstairs kitchen over the summer. Yeah, at the same time our aircondition unit broke when it was 104 degrees outside! That was hell. And I mean that. So is the dishwasher on the back deck as a reminder of how we survived washing dishes for 7 people by hand every day when it was 104 freakin' degrees last summer?
I don't know how I did it, but all at once, I realized both my feet were on the top deck railing and I was off the ladder. It was sooooo high. "Do not look down. I repeat: do not look down," said the little voice in my head.
Of couse I looked down.
The ground was so far away and my dog looked like an ant.
I felt dizzy. I squated down with my big butt in the air and my head pointed down on the deck's floor. I eased one leg down. Slowly. Gently. I began to feel graceful. Like a tighrope walker when they dip one leg down. Only I was wet. And fat. And I had cold mud, water, and dog shit in my shoe. And I was crying.
My leg was dipped down as far as it could go and there was like a foot of air between it at the deck floor. Why do I have to have such short legs? I am stuck. I am stuck in this awkward position. Looking like a mom on crack, playing circus on her back deck, 13 feet above the ground. It's my leg with the bad ankle. The one I shattered in a car accident 17 years ago that aches when it is raining. Why does it have to be raining?
If I jump onto this leg, I may have to just hop to my exam. And watch the sliding glass door be locked. If it is, I will break the whole door with my fist if I have to.
And then, plop! Down I go. No big deal. I am safe. Whew! And the door is unlocked. I run in, get my keys off the key hook, jump in my car, use some handy dandy baby wipes to do a quick clean up on my hands and shoes and sweater. I fly like the wind to my college, get to the parking lot. It is totally full. I park on the street. I run. OK, so I did that weird old lady walk/run thingie. I saw my friend. We high fived each other, in a matter of speaking, for surviving the semester (he has kids and a full plate too) and then I sat down in my desk only 3 minutes late.
It was a miracle. Sorta. I did that whole ladder/ deck scaling thing in about five minutes... though it seemed much longer, lemme tell ya!
It was an appropriate ending to my first semester. I did something I didn't think I could do. I took on 5 college classes and I made a 4.0. When I don't overthink things, and just take things one step or one rung at a time, and PRAY HARD, I can do just about anything. And for me, that's a huge lesson.
And goodness gracious, I'd be a chicken in a hen box if there wasn't a RAINBOW in the sky when I got back home! I tell you what, life is really like that. It really is.
Monday, December 5, 2011
World Religion Class
"None of the religious traditions we have studied would still be around if they had not offered human beings valuable ways of thinking about and responding to ultimate reality. What, in your opinion, is the single most valuable teaching of each religion we have studied?"
Judaism- There is one God and the covenant Moses made with God established a set of moral and ritual obligations. Follow these obligations (follow Torah) and you will be happy. (and for all those who love Jesus, Jews believe Jesus to be a prophet. I think they don't share the opinion that He is the Messiah because according to scripture (I think in Isaiah, it says that when the Messiah comes, there will be no more war, no more fighting and no more tears, or something like that. Well, there is not peace in the middle east yet, so I guess the Messiah hasn't come yet?) A Christian response is that He did come, but He has to come again. There's some difference for you. I am not sure where it says He will come twice in the Old Testament. But I am still reading it, so maybe I haven't gotten to that part. However, I am not sure I'll find that part in my first straight read -thru, if a bazillion people before me haven't seen it. Any way, interesting food for thought for me. And, by the way, it is very wrong to say Jews hate Jesus. My first Christmas card of the year came from one of my Jewish friends. I know she doesn't have a hate bone in her body.)
Christianity- There is one God and God loved the world so much that He sent His son, Jesus to save humanity and to conquer humanity's weakness. Claim Jesus as your Savior and you will be happy. (Other faiths may wonder if Christians are really monotheistic...is Jesus a god? Is that polytheistic? The theology of the trinity was actually adopted in the 4 century, so it's kinda a "new" belief. Hindus embrace the Christian's view of the trinity because they believe there are many gods. Jews and Muslims do not because they only believe in one God according to the first five books which all three Abrahamic religions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) happen to share. Some Christians reject the interpretation of the trinity that says Jesus is a god. Others believe He was God in human form but it makes me wonder who He was talking to on the cross and why He called God: "Father" throughout His life. And why does John 3:16 say God sent His only begotten son? Some Christians believe He was the actual begotten son of God (conceived by the Holy Ghost and born of the Virgin Mary), so He is separate just as my daughter is not Abigail and when addressing me, it would be weird for someone to address her, thinking they were talking to me. Others keep the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost separate and never pray to Jesus, and only say His name at the end. The book, The Shack, does a wonderful illustration of the trinity that might help some people discover a new way to look at things.)
Islam- There is one God. Islam means submission. If you will totally submit to God (follow the Qur'an, perform Salat, follow the Five Pillars), you will be happy. (Jesus is a prophet in this faith and is mentioned in the Qur'an more times than Muhammad. I know of Muslims who wear T Shirts that say, "I love Jesus" and they do. I loved reading about Jesus in the Qur'an. It was awesome. The Christmas story is in there and everything. You should check it out if you ever get the chance.) And please! Do not think Muslims are terrorists. This is a bad misunderstanding. I have heard so many people speculate if the President is a Muslim and the way they say it is as if this is terrible. Just the other day, during a heated debate in English class, someone lumped terrorists with the entire Islamic faith in one sentence. It is wrong. It would be like me saying that all Christians are child molesters just because I know someone who was molested by their priest. Please, terrorists make up a small (in comparison of the entire Muslim faith) handful of fanatics who are not following the teachings of their own faith. They have twisted it and defiled it. Just as some Christians may twist scriptures that might make it seem OK for them to beat their wives in order to exert their authority and make their wives submit.
Hinduism- There is one Supreme Being (Brahman) but many gods and goddesses. The heart of the religion is discovering experimental knowledge of the relationship between the human soul (Atman) and the Supreme Being. Practice the four yogas and you will be happy. (Jesus is an avatara in this Faith. You can follow Him. He can be your "Way" in discovering your relationship between your soul and The Divine. By the way, exploring other faiths, other Ways, can make your relationship with your Truth even stronger and more beautiful.)
Buddhism- Buddha passed into everlasting Nirvana 2,500 years ago. He found enlightenment at the age of 35 and spent the following 45 years teaching what he knew (dharma.) If you follow the Eightfold path, you will be happy. (At the Buddhist Temple, I was surprised how many times the teacher (a monk) emphasized not to leave your own belief, because it was all "There." You can find enlightenment and happiness where you are today. The Noble Eightfold Path is for everyone. Meditation is for everyone. In this faith, Jesus is a bodhisattva. Look that up. It's beautiful.)
After studying these five major world religions, I have found they all share so much in common. I cannot even pick a favorite if my own beliefs did not exist. I wouldn't know which one I would want to explore first. It would be like asking me to choose which of my children I love the most. They are all so different, but I love them all the same. This does not mean I subscribe to every belief, because I don't. But, it would be incorrect for me to state I love religion one over another.
It seems to me that the purpose of each religion is to discover a relationship with The Divine in order to find happiness. Different religions use different tools and techniques to cultivate their relationship with The Divine, but at the heart of it all, maybe it's all the same.
Sometimes I like to think of an Ultimate Truth. If we all knew what that Ultimate Truth was, we'd only have one religion to study and we'd all accept it. At least that's my opinion. Most people believe what they believe because to them, it's their Truth. But my Truth might be different from your Truth and I don't like it when people say, "My Truth is truer than yours." Let's face it, we all come from different life experiences and different traditions. That plays a major part in what we decide to believe. I have had a different life experience than a woman who lives in Afghanistan. As well as I've had a different life experience than my next door neighbor. How can we say other people are wrong when they are just going by their own personal experiences coming to their own conclusions of what the Truth is?
When I think about the Ultimate Truth, it makes me wonder if don't all have fragments of this Ultimate Truth. Maybe it all got split apart and manifested into all these different world religions. I like to think of the Ultimate Truth being like an enormous, glowing ball, like the sun. It became so full of love, it exploded (big bang) and it burst into pieces. Orgasmic! Maybe my Truth is just a piece of The Ultimate and everyone else has a different piece of it too. Maybe if and when we all come together, we will see It, like a puzzle with scattered pieces being put together. It will be the BIG LOVE right here on earth!
I have learned so much in my World Religion class and it was only an introduction. It has made me hungry for more knowledge, more understanding. I wish everyone in the whole, wide world could take this class. It wouldn't matter if they believed in a higher power or not. Because whatever your Truth is, it matters to me and it matters to the world. We need to all be friends so we can put our pieces together and create something so beautiful. Imagine!
Judaism- There is one God and the covenant Moses made with God established a set of moral and ritual obligations. Follow these obligations (follow Torah) and you will be happy. (and for all those who love Jesus, Jews believe Jesus to be a prophet. I think they don't share the opinion that He is the Messiah because according to scripture (I think in Isaiah, it says that when the Messiah comes, there will be no more war, no more fighting and no more tears, or something like that. Well, there is not peace in the middle east yet, so I guess the Messiah hasn't come yet?) A Christian response is that He did come, but He has to come again. There's some difference for you. I am not sure where it says He will come twice in the Old Testament. But I am still reading it, so maybe I haven't gotten to that part. However, I am not sure I'll find that part in my first straight read -thru, if a bazillion people before me haven't seen it. Any way, interesting food for thought for me. And, by the way, it is very wrong to say Jews hate Jesus. My first Christmas card of the year came from one of my Jewish friends. I know she doesn't have a hate bone in her body.)
Christianity- There is one God and God loved the world so much that He sent His son, Jesus to save humanity and to conquer humanity's weakness. Claim Jesus as your Savior and you will be happy. (Other faiths may wonder if Christians are really monotheistic...is Jesus a god? Is that polytheistic? The theology of the trinity was actually adopted in the 4 century, so it's kinda a "new" belief. Hindus embrace the Christian's view of the trinity because they believe there are many gods. Jews and Muslims do not because they only believe in one God according to the first five books which all three Abrahamic religions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) happen to share. Some Christians reject the interpretation of the trinity that says Jesus is a god. Others believe He was God in human form but it makes me wonder who He was talking to on the cross and why He called God: "Father" throughout His life. And why does John 3:16 say God sent His only begotten son? Some Christians believe He was the actual begotten son of God (conceived by the Holy Ghost and born of the Virgin Mary), so He is separate just as my daughter is not Abigail and when addressing me, it would be weird for someone to address her, thinking they were talking to me. Others keep the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost separate and never pray to Jesus, and only say His name at the end. The book, The Shack, does a wonderful illustration of the trinity that might help some people discover a new way to look at things.)
Islam- There is one God. Islam means submission. If you will totally submit to God (follow the Qur'an, perform Salat, follow the Five Pillars), you will be happy. (Jesus is a prophet in this faith and is mentioned in the Qur'an more times than Muhammad. I know of Muslims who wear T Shirts that say, "I love Jesus" and they do. I loved reading about Jesus in the Qur'an. It was awesome. The Christmas story is in there and everything. You should check it out if you ever get the chance.) And please! Do not think Muslims are terrorists. This is a bad misunderstanding. I have heard so many people speculate if the President is a Muslim and the way they say it is as if this is terrible. Just the other day, during a heated debate in English class, someone lumped terrorists with the entire Islamic faith in one sentence. It is wrong. It would be like me saying that all Christians are child molesters just because I know someone who was molested by their priest. Please, terrorists make up a small (in comparison of the entire Muslim faith) handful of fanatics who are not following the teachings of their own faith. They have twisted it and defiled it. Just as some Christians may twist scriptures that might make it seem OK for them to beat their wives in order to exert their authority and make their wives submit.
Hinduism- There is one Supreme Being (Brahman) but many gods and goddesses. The heart of the religion is discovering experimental knowledge of the relationship between the human soul (Atman) and the Supreme Being. Practice the four yogas and you will be happy. (Jesus is an avatara in this Faith. You can follow Him. He can be your "Way" in discovering your relationship between your soul and The Divine. By the way, exploring other faiths, other Ways, can make your relationship with your Truth even stronger and more beautiful.)
Buddhism- Buddha passed into everlasting Nirvana 2,500 years ago. He found enlightenment at the age of 35 and spent the following 45 years teaching what he knew (dharma.) If you follow the Eightfold path, you will be happy. (At the Buddhist Temple, I was surprised how many times the teacher (a monk) emphasized not to leave your own belief, because it was all "There." You can find enlightenment and happiness where you are today. The Noble Eightfold Path is for everyone. Meditation is for everyone. In this faith, Jesus is a bodhisattva. Look that up. It's beautiful.)
After studying these five major world religions, I have found they all share so much in common. I cannot even pick a favorite if my own beliefs did not exist. I wouldn't know which one I would want to explore first. It would be like asking me to choose which of my children I love the most. They are all so different, but I love them all the same. This does not mean I subscribe to every belief, because I don't. But, it would be incorrect for me to state I love religion one over another.
It seems to me that the purpose of each religion is to discover a relationship with The Divine in order to find happiness. Different religions use different tools and techniques to cultivate their relationship with The Divine, but at the heart of it all, maybe it's all the same.
Sometimes I like to think of an Ultimate Truth. If we all knew what that Ultimate Truth was, we'd only have one religion to study and we'd all accept it. At least that's my opinion. Most people believe what they believe because to them, it's their Truth. But my Truth might be different from your Truth and I don't like it when people say, "My Truth is truer than yours." Let's face it, we all come from different life experiences and different traditions. That plays a major part in what we decide to believe. I have had a different life experience than a woman who lives in Afghanistan. As well as I've had a different life experience than my next door neighbor. How can we say other people are wrong when they are just going by their own personal experiences coming to their own conclusions of what the Truth is?
When I think about the Ultimate Truth, it makes me wonder if don't all have fragments of this Ultimate Truth. Maybe it all got split apart and manifested into all these different world religions. I like to think of the Ultimate Truth being like an enormous, glowing ball, like the sun. It became so full of love, it exploded (big bang) and it burst into pieces. Orgasmic! Maybe my Truth is just a piece of The Ultimate and everyone else has a different piece of it too. Maybe if and when we all come together, we will see It, like a puzzle with scattered pieces being put together. It will be the BIG LOVE right here on earth!
I have learned so much in my World Religion class and it was only an introduction. It has made me hungry for more knowledge, more understanding. I wish everyone in the whole, wide world could take this class. It wouldn't matter if they believed in a higher power or not. Because whatever your Truth is, it matters to me and it matters to the world. We need to all be friends so we can put our pieces together and create something so beautiful. Imagine!
Friday, October 14, 2011
Why I Love Scooters
Have I ever told you the story of why I love scooters?
Well, Once upon a time when Nicholas was three months old, Jolie (age 11) and Sydney (age 9) asked me if they could "go down the hill."
That's all they said. "Mommy, can we go down the hill?"
I really thought they were asking if they could walk down the hill in our back yard to the creek. I had 5 kids at this point and one of them was attached to my boobs all day and one of them was 18 months old and getting into everything. Fischer was four years old at the time and honestly, I don't know what he was doing. Probably reading the encyclopedia.
Jolie had come home from school this day very upset. She didn't really have friends at school. Kids made fun of her for reasons I still cannot figure out to this day. It was that ugly, cheeky, drama that girls were doing at this age that blindsided us and we, as a family, could not wrap our minds around understanding why ANYBODY could be that cruel. This involved things like not letting Jolie sit certain places in the lunch room and making fun of her clothes. And the girls who were being mean were kinda rednecks. I hate to say it, but I was always like, "Who the hell do they think they are?" But that's beside the point and this story is getting off track.
Any way, so Jolie comes home upset AGAIN and it turns out she got pushed out of her desk, and when she was on the floor, a group of girls started KICKING her and calling her names! The substitute teacher saw the whole thing and no one even called me.
I used to teach my kids how to handle bullying this way: If someone hits you, hit the floor and act like you passed out. Then, the mean bully will get in a whole shit load of trouble and 911 will be called and we have plenty of lawyers in our family.
But that does not work. Let me tell you. Now I tell my children to fight back. Never start anything, but go for the eyes or the jugular if you need to.
Well, I decided enough is enough. I called the ring leader's mom and dad. I asked them to come over to our house after dinner and we were gonna straighten the whole thing out ourselves, or I was going to take legal action. They were unaware of their daughter's problem, but when asked, the little girl confessed everything and admitted what she and her friends had done. She was very remorseful and was grateful she could come over to say she was sorry.
I called Adrian and told him what went down. I asked him to come home a little early so he would be here when the girl and her parents came.
In the meantime, Jolie and Sydney went "down the hill."
I stayed inside with the little kids.
About fifteen minutes later there is frantic knocking on my front door.
It is a little girl who lives down the street. She is hysterical. I mean, completely hysterical. She is panicked.
In between sobs, she screams, "There is blood pouring out of both of her eyes!"
"Oh, my God! Who's eyes?"
"Your daughter's!"
It turns out, what Jolie and Sydney were asking, was for permission to ride their scooters down the hill on the street.
I think I grabbed, Nicholas, Mollie, and Fischer and shoved them all three into the floor board of my mini van and shot out of my driveway like a bat outta hell down the hill to where Jolie was laying at the bottom.
Luckily, the blood was pouring OVER her eyes, not out of her eyes, but her arm was twisted in a weird way and I could see the bone.
I scooped her up, plopped her in the front seat and I guess Sydney put the kids in car seats while I headed straight for the hospital.
On the way, we passed the family who was coming over.
I rolled down the window to tell them I was heading to the hospital. They could hear Jolie screaming and they saw all the blood. The dad freaked out thinking his daughter's gang had caused this.
Next, we pass Adrian and I tell him to get the in the car, we are going to the hospital.
He took the drivers seat and I held Jolie. All the way, he kept saying, "I can't believe they did this to her!"
At this point, I could not focus. He thought the family had come over and beat the shit out of our daughter. He was furious. He wanted to know where they lived! I kept saying it was the scooter but he didn't understand and thought maybe "Scooter" was like a sixth grade girl's gang name.
We finally made it to the emergency room. Poor Jolie was so bloody and in so much pain. The nurse tried to take a blood sample and wrapped a tourniquet around the arm that didn't have a bone sticking up out of it, and kept slapping it trying to get a vein to pop up. Jolie was wailing! She begged the nurse to stop. As they were cutting off Jolie's clothes, the nurse actually told her to be quiet and be a big girl as she kept trying to straighten out the arm to get the needle in.
My dad finally stepped in and said, "Hey, x ray both arms."
He was right. BOTH arms were totally broken.
Jolie was wheeled off to surgery and she stayed in the hospital for 10 days on IV antibiotics.
She was in two casts for six weeks and one remained on for longer.
She could not feed herself.
She could not bathe herself.
She could not do much of anything.
Adrian and I took shifts at the hospital and I would tie balloons to Nicholas' feet and just sit and talk to Jolie for hours and hours. I read books to her aloud. We watched I Love Lucy DVDs. We ate a lot of chocolate.
Jolie was just at the cusp of entering adolescence and I must say that taking care of her while she was helpless was one of the sweetest experiences I have ever had. My first born was about to start pulling away from me, and here I had one last chance to care for her like a baby.
You know how rumors get started. Well, the whole school heard through the grapevine that Jolie had gotten jumped was in a full body cast. Cards and letters started pouring in. Friends she didn't even know she had, started calling her. She was showered with gifts. It was the sweetest thing.
I don't know exactly what the point of my story is, but Jolie is now a senior in high school. It makes me a little bit sad that she is growing up. She hardly needs me at all unless she needs money. I guess that is why I love scooters and will always cherish that summer.
Well, Once upon a time when Nicholas was three months old, Jolie (age 11) and Sydney (age 9) asked me if they could "go down the hill."
That's all they said. "Mommy, can we go down the hill?"
I really thought they were asking if they could walk down the hill in our back yard to the creek. I had 5 kids at this point and one of them was attached to my boobs all day and one of them was 18 months old and getting into everything. Fischer was four years old at the time and honestly, I don't know what he was doing. Probably reading the encyclopedia.
Jolie had come home from school this day very upset. She didn't really have friends at school. Kids made fun of her for reasons I still cannot figure out to this day. It was that ugly, cheeky, drama that girls were doing at this age that blindsided us and we, as a family, could not wrap our minds around understanding why ANYBODY could be that cruel. This involved things like not letting Jolie sit certain places in the lunch room and making fun of her clothes. And the girls who were being mean were kinda rednecks. I hate to say it, but I was always like, "Who the hell do they think they are?" But that's beside the point and this story is getting off track.
Any way, so Jolie comes home upset AGAIN and it turns out she got pushed out of her desk, and when she was on the floor, a group of girls started KICKING her and calling her names! The substitute teacher saw the whole thing and no one even called me.
I used to teach my kids how to handle bullying this way: If someone hits you, hit the floor and act like you passed out. Then, the mean bully will get in a whole shit load of trouble and 911 will be called and we have plenty of lawyers in our family.
But that does not work. Let me tell you. Now I tell my children to fight back. Never start anything, but go for the eyes or the jugular if you need to.
Well, I decided enough is enough. I called the ring leader's mom and dad. I asked them to come over to our house after dinner and we were gonna straighten the whole thing out ourselves, or I was going to take legal action. They were unaware of their daughter's problem, but when asked, the little girl confessed everything and admitted what she and her friends had done. She was very remorseful and was grateful she could come over to say she was sorry.
I called Adrian and told him what went down. I asked him to come home a little early so he would be here when the girl and her parents came.
In the meantime, Jolie and Sydney went "down the hill."
I stayed inside with the little kids.
About fifteen minutes later there is frantic knocking on my front door.
It is a little girl who lives down the street. She is hysterical. I mean, completely hysterical. She is panicked.
In between sobs, she screams, "There is blood pouring out of both of her eyes!"
"Oh, my God! Who's eyes?"
"Your daughter's!"
It turns out, what Jolie and Sydney were asking, was for permission to ride their scooters down the hill on the street.
I think I grabbed, Nicholas, Mollie, and Fischer and shoved them all three into the floor board of my mini van and shot out of my driveway like a bat outta hell down the hill to where Jolie was laying at the bottom.
Luckily, the blood was pouring OVER her eyes, not out of her eyes, but her arm was twisted in a weird way and I could see the bone.
I scooped her up, plopped her in the front seat and I guess Sydney put the kids in car seats while I headed straight for the hospital.
On the way, we passed the family who was coming over.
I rolled down the window to tell them I was heading to the hospital. They could hear Jolie screaming and they saw all the blood. The dad freaked out thinking his daughter's gang had caused this.
Next, we pass Adrian and I tell him to get the in the car, we are going to the hospital.
He took the drivers seat and I held Jolie. All the way, he kept saying, "I can't believe they did this to her!"
At this point, I could not focus. He thought the family had come over and beat the shit out of our daughter. He was furious. He wanted to know where they lived! I kept saying it was the scooter but he didn't understand and thought maybe "Scooter" was like a sixth grade girl's gang name.
We finally made it to the emergency room. Poor Jolie was so bloody and in so much pain. The nurse tried to take a blood sample and wrapped a tourniquet around the arm that didn't have a bone sticking up out of it, and kept slapping it trying to get a vein to pop up. Jolie was wailing! She begged the nurse to stop. As they were cutting off Jolie's clothes, the nurse actually told her to be quiet and be a big girl as she kept trying to straighten out the arm to get the needle in.
My dad finally stepped in and said, "Hey, x ray both arms."
He was right. BOTH arms were totally broken.
Jolie was wheeled off to surgery and she stayed in the hospital for 10 days on IV antibiotics.
She was in two casts for six weeks and one remained on for longer.
She could not feed herself.
She could not bathe herself.
She could not do much of anything.
Adrian and I took shifts at the hospital and I would tie balloons to Nicholas' feet and just sit and talk to Jolie for hours and hours. I read books to her aloud. We watched I Love Lucy DVDs. We ate a lot of chocolate.
Jolie was just at the cusp of entering adolescence and I must say that taking care of her while she was helpless was one of the sweetest experiences I have ever had. My first born was about to start pulling away from me, and here I had one last chance to care for her like a baby.
You know how rumors get started. Well, the whole school heard through the grapevine that Jolie had gotten jumped was in a full body cast. Cards and letters started pouring in. Friends she didn't even know she had, started calling her. She was showered with gifts. It was the sweetest thing.
I don't know exactly what the point of my story is, but Jolie is now a senior in high school. It makes me a little bit sad that she is growing up. She hardly needs me at all unless she needs money. I guess that is why I love scooters and will always cherish that summer.
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