More To Love

It's been a very busy week.

Scott and I spent the entire weekend, sans children, working on our ceiling and attempting to get our living room in order. Despite our stagnant finances, we decided to bite the bullet and spring for some of the amenities required to complete the room in which the family spends the most time. Collectively, we spent almost fifty percent of our time at home improvement stores; we looked, decided, undecided, decided again, then waited. At one Home Depot we waited so long for service in one department, they gave us 10% off our entire bill! At another store, the associate seemed so glad to see someone on a Saturday night, he chatted on about the Phillies and gave us updates on the score as we browsed. Another associate gave us a lesson on "how not to operate a fork lift," and Scott followed up with a lesson on"how to chose the best wood for your project."

In the process of embellishing our living space, we enlarged our family -- by one more pit bull. For those who are counting, that's two adults, five children (four at home) and two canines. I realize there are plenty of folks who might meet that body count and raise it by three or four more, but I still cannot grasp the logic behind it. This was more of an emotional decision, I guess -- a beautiful, gentle dog that needed a home or otherwise would be forced into some very undesirable conditions. Rationale and reason took a back seat. It's been chaotic ever since, and the younger three children aren't even here yet! So, I had to post a picture...

Big Shoes to Fill

My brother sent me a video clip of Penn Jillette, a multi-talented comedian, illusionist and columnist. He is an outspoken atheist but, as indicated in this video clip, has no respect for theists who do not proselytize. As I watched the video, apparently filmed for a podcast known as "Penn Says," I gained respect for a man whose lifestyle I deplore. His beliefs are founded on the insidious lies and deceptions of "The Father of Lies," and yet he challenges me to be a better Christian; he challenges me to "walk the talk", "put my money where my mouth is." He is an intellegent and articulate man, and no doubt, in a battle of wits would give me a thorough thrashing and take me out back for burial. I don't doubt that he would find me irrational, emotional, and completely unprepared for apologetic debate -- sadly most Christians are. But Mr. Jillette not only inspires me to become better prepared for rational. intelligent conversation about Jesus Christ, but he assures me of the existence of a most powerful, omnipotent God, with love and a plan for each of us.

When asked to defend my belief in the One True God, I usually stammer and mumble something about the Bible being the infallible Word of God, about the "wholeness" of the Gospel, and about my personal experience. Truth is, I am intimidated by "militant leftists," demanding facts and answers for everything. Truth is, I am human and have struggled to believe with my heart things I know to be true in my head. Truth is, and I'm sure this is true of far too many Christians, I do not know my Bible the way I should. Truth is, being a Christian is a personal, emotional, sometimes irrational experience.

I am remiss in my skills, my Bible tools are rusty, but I make no apologies for being driven by feelings and experiences. What parent is not? We love these slimy, wailing little creatures that come into our lives like parasites, drawing from us our time, our income, even our identities. What successful mogul detests the very pursuit he lives and breathes in order to gain such success? Who wants to be handed a spreadsheet outlining the reasons "she said 'yes',"? Being a Christian, for me, has more to do with what I have seen, what I have heard, and what I know to be true from personal experience. There is not a chapter or verse within the Bible that I dispute; there are, and I'm being honest, entire passages that do not "speak" to me. I read them and ask, "Why are they there?" Or I wonder, "What does that mean?" Sometimes, like with any good book, I am anxious the "get to the good parts." Nevertheless, I do not doubt any of it is "God-breathed" (2 Tim. 3:16 NIV), and "is the power of God for the salvation of everyone."(Rom. 1:16 NIV) I attend church regularly, I read my Bible (never as faithfully as I would aspire) and pray (again, not as faithfully as I would like) but it is the things that I see when I look around that tell me God is there, He exists.

Following a Saviour or devoting your life to a belief is not and should not be some one-dimensional, algorithmic exercise designed to explain away every doubt or apparent contradiction. I don't have all the facts, I don't have all the answers or explanations, for that matter, but I know they are there waiting for me, if not in this life then in the next.

And, thank God for Penn Jillette! I have been challenged to find and share as much as I am meant to know so that I too, can proselytize in love, with feeling, as effectively as possible.

"There, But For The Grace of God, Go I"

As my stomach churned, I read the words over, even clicked on the little arrow to watch the two-minute video clip again. I searched for some explanation, some reassurance that a mistake had been made.

On July 26, a 36-year old mother said "goodbye" to her husband and left a family camping trip with her two children and three nieces. By the husband's account, everything seemed fine when she left. Her brother later said that some time early afternoon, she called to say she was not feeling well; he said he asked her to "stay put" and he'd come to get them. Two hours later, eight people were dead in a fiery collision.

By the following week, autopsy results had shown the woman was alcohol impaired and had a level of THC, the main psychoactive ingredient in marijuana, that indicated she had smoked 15 minutes to an hour before the accident.

This is not about passing judgement, this is about grief and incomprehension. This is about trying to "wrap my head around" facts that seem so contradictory, actions that seem so incongruous with reason, and the enormity and pain of such a loss.

I am a total stranger to these people, and I am having difficulty processing this news. What must they be going through? Add to that the media attention and public scrutiny?

Like most parents, I would assume, I read this and think of my own children. I think of the agony of losing them under a thoroughly accidental, random situation, but a seemingly irresponsible choice on the part of someone I love and care for? What type of darkness could drive a person to make such an error in judgement? Was this something she'd been hiding from her family? an ongoing illness? or, like many families, had they tried to conceal it and deal with it on a personal level?

We all make mistakes, some behind closed doors, some with tragic, public consequences. To pretend that my discretion is any better than hers is to say that I have walked in her shoes, I have been in her head, and I have made all of the right choices. The truth is, I don't know the place she was in, nor can I say that my past actions could never have caused such tragedy.

Let us all be quicker to love than to condemn. Let us thank God our indiscretions have not been laid before the world in the form of such a tragedy. Let us ask God's forgiveness for the sins we have committed, and let us thank Him for the mercy shown to us through Christ's death and resurrection.

Why Boys Are Just Cool

If you were to look on my Facebook page, you would find a recent quiz determined I was 0% girly -- yes, 0%. However, an even more recent quiz determined that of all the characters on Gilligan's Island, I most closely resemble Ginger. A seeming contradiction? At first glance. I even took immediate offense to my latest test results -- "Ginger!" I shrieked. "You've got to be kidding me!" But, here's the thing, I am 0% girly. There's no argument. I don't like gossipping, particularly on the phone; I don't do "nights out with the girls." I don't giggle or twirl my hair or act like a bubble brain. I don't "shop with the girls" or do mani/ pedi days or anything like that. However, I am feminine, and like Ginger, love being coy and seductive. I love to laugh -- hard -- out loud -- like I mean it! I enjoy sitting with my feet up -- sometimes in the sun -- and doing an evil crossword, or reading a good book. I like to talk and share, I like nights out with my husband, I love to shop, and I love the feeling after a good home pedicure. All this to say, I've never quite fit in with the female community. Even as a child, my size and my disinterest in cheerleading and eyelash curlers put me at odds with the "fairer sex" in school. While the rest of the female population was listening to The Backstreet Boys, I had Metallica cranked as I drove like an angry Ashley Force (For those of you girly-girls, she is a funny car drag racer, and if you don't know what that is, there's always Wikipedia). Anyhow, it wasn't always easy growing up a Cartman in a Barbie world, but I've learned that rumors like names can only hurt you if you let them.
Nevertheless, in my younger years, it was more comfortable for me to "hang out" with boys. They were always doing interesting things like building forts or climbing trees. As boys got older they still had the better toys -- cars, motorcycles -- and the better entertainment -- football games, drag races. I never saw any of those girly-girls pumping their fists to a great hairdo.

Boys watched better movies. I have two or three "chick-flicks" in my list of favorites; everything else has bullets, cars or ancient tombs-- or Vin Diesel, gotta love Vin! Boys are even different in the way they watch movies. I can't help but gape in amazement as Scott, our friend Tommy, even our eleven-year-old Joe recite entire passages, replete with sound effects, from movies they've seen twice, maybe! And, the sound effects! I don't care if we were playing war with G.I. Joe or track with Hot Wheels, my bombs sounded like a Yiddish grandmother biting into jarred gefilte, and my "tire screech" sounded like a cat caught under the hood of a car with auto-start. But the boys -- they sounded like something straight out of a foley studio.

No disrespect to Elle Woods, I know she solved that big case based on some sophisticated "perm" data, but boys know cool stuff. They know about due west, horsepower, and alternating current. Back in the days of "less than a half dozen major car manufacturers," an old boyfriend schooled me in identifying the make of the car by the headlights approaching in the rear view mirror at night. (This is a skill I have all but lost amidst library book due dates and how to get vomit out of your car upholstery).

I'm not a big fan of the "war of the sexes" mentality, nor do I think "unisex" is a term that should have ever been coined. I respect women more than I do "girls", I suppose; I am, in fact, thrilled to be a woman. I can't ignore the fact that men and boys have unique qualities about them that I find admirable and interesting, and I'm sure if I asked my husband, he'd say the same about girls as well as women. I'm even pretty sure he'd say I was not 0% girly. But then I'd have to give him a shot to the arm!