I'm going on strike this time next year. I swear I am. In the past 48 hours I have sorted 100 pounds of laundry, washed and dried 7 loads of it, folded and put away 3 of the loads, run up and down both sets of steps in my house about 50 times a day, chased my toddler and the kitten out of every conceivable place in the house, and done all my normal mom duties with the children. It's 3pm. I've only just had lunch (1 pb&j sandwich).
In the next 24 hours I need to do the last load of laundry, fold and put away 5 finished ones, pack 4 suitcases, spend 2 hours going to my allergist to get my monthly shot (1/2hr. to get ready, 20 min. drive, 20 min. there, 20 min. home), get the cat's stuff ready to drop him off at the kennel, and do all my normal mom stuff for the kids.
Every. Muscle. In. My body. Hurts.
And I still have a 5-? hour drive with 3 children to look forward to. Don't get me wrong, I love visiting our families in PA. I just wish there was some way to get up there without this marathon beforehand.
So right now you're asking well, why did you wait so long to do laundry? I didn't - 8 loads is a normal amount for the 5 of us for a week. It's just that normally I have all week to do it in. But to go on a week long trip I need 2 weeks worth of clean laundry for all of us so that we have something to wear in the few days before and the few days after as well.
So next year. I think I'll go on strike. I'll still do the normal laundry, cleaning, grocery shopping, cooking. But I'll tell my husband if he wants to go visiting then he can do the extra laundry and the packing. They can go, I'll stay home. I'm going to go to the library, stock up on some good novels, buy some easy to fix food, and spend the holiday being thankful for relaxing at home.
Next year, I swear that I will. Really.....
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Monday, November 24, 2008
Just to make sure you're paying attention
Yes, I changed my template...again. Variety being the spice of life and all that. Plus I get bored easily. Don't be surprised if it continues to change every so often as I learn to manipulate different elements. Maybe someday I'll get ambitious and investigate creating my own - which would be fun but time consuming.
When my own words fail
Sometimes somebody else's words express how I'm feeling far better than I can. Sometimes God leads me to those words at the strangest times in the oddest ways.
"Midway along the journey of our life
I woke to find myself in a dark wood,
for I had wandered off from the straight path.
How hard it is to tell what it was like,
this wood of wilderness, savage and stubborn
(the thought of it brings back all my old fears),
a bitter place! Death could scarce be bitterer.
But if I would show the good that came of it
I must talk about things other than the good.
How I entered there I cannot truly say,
I had become so sleepy at the moment
when I first strayed, leaving the path of truth;"
For those of you, like I, who did not read this in high school, those are the opening words of Dante's Inferno. I was at the library on Saturday, with my 5 year old daughter in tow (because she pulled a drama queen face and begged to come with me). I was trying to hurry, because I knew she would stay put at the children's activity table for only so long. After refilling my quota of novels for the week, on a whim I wandered over to the poetry section. I found the Rumi book I went for, and then my eyes landed on Dante. Lately I've had a desire to read some of the classics we, for whatever reason, were not required to read in high school. I grabbed the book along with the rest of my stack and dashed back to where Charlotte was happily working a puzzle. I figured I could peruse my books for a few minutes while she played.
Being curious, I opened up the Dante, and read those opening words. And nearly slid through the floor in shock. A 13th century poet had just given me an existential punch in the gut. Wow. Well, it's good to know that my spiritual angst is not just a product of the times I live in, but a product of the human condition.
I've been coming to the gradual realization that I am tired of being a "human do-ing" and want to be a "human be-ing" again. The past couple weekends I've been on a forced hiatus from church. Due mostly to illness in the family, company, and general worn out-ed-ness, we haven't been in church the past few Sundays. Yesterday I came to the startling realization that I felt much calmer and more at peace with myself and my family than I have in months. I began thinking about what that said about my church experience in particular and American Christianity in general.
I got to spend a hour or so reading my Bible and praying/meditating in private, then relaxed with my family. After dinner I was able to get started on some laundry so as to not be behind all week in holiday preparations. What a lovely, relaxed day it was.
It made me start to wonder if many American Christians aren't going about the whole concept of "church" the wrong way. Why is it, no matter what church you belong to, no matter which denomination you find yourself in - as soon as you offer up your gifts and talents to serve the body of Christ, you find yourself stressed out and overcommitted? Where did we lose the concept of balance? How can we "be still and know" that He is God when we're not even allowed to be still? Why does it seem the church is just as guilty of this as the world we claim to be separate from? Why is so much extra "stuff" laid on top of Jesus' simple command to "Come, follow Me"?
In those rare moments when I am alone with just my own thoughts and God, I keep thinking, "Is this all there is?" Is all there is being permanently stuck in fast forward being busy for the Kingdom? What happened to "Come unto Me all who are weary and I will give you rest"?
And most disturbing of all, why does it seem that I am the only one who is bothered by this? Why am I the only who is tired of all the pomp and circumstance that the modern church has become?
I want to be like Mary, and simply go sit at Jesus' feet - and listen.
"Midway along the journey of our life
I woke to find myself in a dark wood,
for I had wandered off from the straight path.
How hard it is to tell what it was like,
this wood of wilderness, savage and stubborn
(the thought of it brings back all my old fears),
a bitter place! Death could scarce be bitterer.
But if I would show the good that came of it
I must talk about things other than the good.
How I entered there I cannot truly say,
I had become so sleepy at the moment
when I first strayed, leaving the path of truth;"
For those of you, like I, who did not read this in high school, those are the opening words of Dante's Inferno. I was at the library on Saturday, with my 5 year old daughter in tow (because she pulled a drama queen face and begged to come with me). I was trying to hurry, because I knew she would stay put at the children's activity table for only so long. After refilling my quota of novels for the week, on a whim I wandered over to the poetry section. I found the Rumi book I went for, and then my eyes landed on Dante. Lately I've had a desire to read some of the classics we, for whatever reason, were not required to read in high school. I grabbed the book along with the rest of my stack and dashed back to where Charlotte was happily working a puzzle. I figured I could peruse my books for a few minutes while she played.
Being curious, I opened up the Dante, and read those opening words. And nearly slid through the floor in shock. A 13th century poet had just given me an existential punch in the gut. Wow. Well, it's good to know that my spiritual angst is not just a product of the times I live in, but a product of the human condition.
I've been coming to the gradual realization that I am tired of being a "human do-ing" and want to be a "human be-ing" again. The past couple weekends I've been on a forced hiatus from church. Due mostly to illness in the family, company, and general worn out-ed-ness, we haven't been in church the past few Sundays. Yesterday I came to the startling realization that I felt much calmer and more at peace with myself and my family than I have in months. I began thinking about what that said about my church experience in particular and American Christianity in general.
I got to spend a hour or so reading my Bible and praying/meditating in private, then relaxed with my family. After dinner I was able to get started on some laundry so as to not be behind all week in holiday preparations. What a lovely, relaxed day it was.
It made me start to wonder if many American Christians aren't going about the whole concept of "church" the wrong way. Why is it, no matter what church you belong to, no matter which denomination you find yourself in - as soon as you offer up your gifts and talents to serve the body of Christ, you find yourself stressed out and overcommitted? Where did we lose the concept of balance? How can we "be still and know" that He is God when we're not even allowed to be still? Why does it seem the church is just as guilty of this as the world we claim to be separate from? Why is so much extra "stuff" laid on top of Jesus' simple command to "Come, follow Me"?
In those rare moments when I am alone with just my own thoughts and God, I keep thinking, "Is this all there is?" Is all there is being permanently stuck in fast forward being busy for the Kingdom? What happened to "Come unto Me all who are weary and I will give you rest"?
And most disturbing of all, why does it seem that I am the only one who is bothered by this? Why am I the only who is tired of all the pomp and circumstance that the modern church has become?
I want to be like Mary, and simply go sit at Jesus' feet - and listen.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Fallible Friday follies
Ha. Bet you thought I forgot to post today. Nope, just got sidetracked. Friday is the day I meet with my prayer group moms. By the time I get home it's lunchtime and (maybe, possibly) naptime for little Boo (which today it was, yippee!)
This one'll be a little stream-of-consciousness cause that's the kind of day/week I've had.
So with every good intention I sat down to type after lunch.....and my kitty crawled into my lap trolling for scritches. Well... any of you who has an animal that does this can guess what happened next. Yep, I succumbed to SKOL syndrome (Sleeping Kitty On Lap) and suddenly found I could not keep my eyes open. Cats are God's way of telling us to give up and go take a nap. So I did.
So. Then after picking the kids up at the bus stop I decided to ply them with treats to stop them from fighting (Friday after-school meltdowns are the WORST). I wanted to try out what sounded like a yummy and simple recipe that my friend gave me this morning. All you do is take one box of devil's food cake mix and 1 can of solid pack pumpkin, mix together, put in muffin trays, bake for 350 deg. for 15-18 minutes. Voila! Yummy chocolate muffins with a nutritious surprise.
I should have know that it sounded too easy.
First, I couldn't remember what size can pumpkin when I was in the store, so I bought the big one (29 oz size). Well, it was supposed to be the small one (14 oz. size), so I decided to do a double batch. Ha. Ha. By the time I got 2 cake mixes and 1 large can of pumpkin in my mixing bowl it was all I could do to mix it without overflowing the bowl. It didn't help that the batter is the consistency of thick icing. I probably should have dug out the mixer but I was stubborn and didn't want to clean it. Between a fork and a spatula I managed to mix it. Whew! There's a workout for ya.
Got the thick stuff into the muffin tins and put it in to bake. And bake. And bake. You're supposed to turn the temp. down to 325 deg. if you use a dark tin, which I do. Well.....try more like 20-25 minutes in my oven.
Okay, finally they are done. Well, they smell good - hope they taste good. Waiting....waiting.....waiting. Give one to each child (not the baby, he'd bounce) and one for me. And the verdict is....
Mmmm. Different - good different. Less like muffins or cake and more like molten chocolate cake consistency (for you bakers, a very soft, fine crumb)- yummy! But more treat or dessert than breakfast (my friend makes hers for brunch - ummm, maybe not unless it's WITH something else - unless I want to train the children as trapeze artists by having them swing from the curtain rods.)
Sigh of relief. I'm supposed to make up a batch for us to put in the teachers' break room for a pre-Thanksgiving treat. It's good to know the recipe works and is tasty.
This one'll be a little stream-of-consciousness cause that's the kind of day/week I've had.
So with every good intention I sat down to type after lunch.....and my kitty crawled into my lap trolling for scritches. Well... any of you who has an animal that does this can guess what happened next. Yep, I succumbed to SKOL syndrome (Sleeping Kitty On Lap) and suddenly found I could not keep my eyes open. Cats are God's way of telling us to give up and go take a nap. So I did.
So. Then after picking the kids up at the bus stop I decided to ply them with treats to stop them from fighting (Friday after-school meltdowns are the WORST). I wanted to try out what sounded like a yummy and simple recipe that my friend gave me this morning. All you do is take one box of devil's food cake mix and 1 can of solid pack pumpkin, mix together, put in muffin trays, bake for 350 deg. for 15-18 minutes. Voila! Yummy chocolate muffins with a nutritious surprise.
I should have know that it sounded too easy.
First, I couldn't remember what size can pumpkin when I was in the store, so I bought the big one (29 oz size). Well, it was supposed to be the small one (14 oz. size), so I decided to do a double batch. Ha. Ha. By the time I got 2 cake mixes and 1 large can of pumpkin in my mixing bowl it was all I could do to mix it without overflowing the bowl. It didn't help that the batter is the consistency of thick icing. I probably should have dug out the mixer but I was stubborn and didn't want to clean it. Between a fork and a spatula I managed to mix it. Whew! There's a workout for ya.
Got the thick stuff into the muffin tins and put it in to bake. And bake. And bake. You're supposed to turn the temp. down to 325 deg. if you use a dark tin, which I do. Well.....try more like 20-25 minutes in my oven.
Okay, finally they are done. Well, they smell good - hope they taste good. Waiting....waiting.....waiting. Give one to each child (not the baby, he'd bounce) and one for me. And the verdict is....
Mmmm. Different - good different. Less like muffins or cake and more like molten chocolate cake consistency (for you bakers, a very soft, fine crumb)- yummy! But more treat or dessert than breakfast (my friend makes hers for brunch - ummm, maybe not unless it's WITH something else - unless I want to train the children as trapeze artists by having them swing from the curtain rods.)
Sigh of relief. I'm supposed to make up a batch for us to put in the teachers' break room for a pre-Thanksgiving treat. It's good to know the recipe works and is tasty.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Why do they bother to make toys for boys?
Otherwise known as Help! I Need an Instruction Manual.
Sometimes I think that parenthood is God's inside joke on His children. It's the only thing that explains why all my kids are very much like and yet nothing at all like myself and my husband (well, that and Mendelian genetics, but still).
You would think, by the time I got to the third child, I might have an inkling of what I was doing - right? Wrong!
So, #1 Son comes along and we follow all the parenting and pediatrician's advice - 3 1/2 years later we find out that the reason very little of it worked is because he has autism. Ahhh, of course - now all those unexplained tantrums/obsessions/pickiness/not-wanting-to-sleep etc. make sense. Okay, got it. Shift gears. Read up on autism, evaluate strategy, adapt. (And keep on adapting as it turns out, but that's another story, never mind, anyway....)
Next, Dear Daughter comes along. Definitely not autistic, thank goodness. Rather, social butterfly. Extrovert in the extreme. Where did this child come from again? Gotta love those Mendelian genetics - recessive genes, gotta be. With the non-stop energy of a kangaroo - for a while we called her Tigger. She has two speeds - fast forward and asleep - nothing in between. And oh, the drama....
Now then, #2 Son comes along. With trepidation we wait to see if autism makes an appearance again. No? Okay, great. So, boy raising strategy minus autism adaptation. Er, yeah. Well, maybe?
Huh. This one defies the parenting books, the pediatrician's advice, and all our knowledge and experience gained with his brother and sister. An extrovert like his sister, he wants to follow me around everywhere I go. But, like his brother - fascinated with how everything works. So he follows me around and wreaks havoc everywhere he goes. Whereas Chris would play with the light switches for hours at a time, Connor wants to take apart anything he can get his hands on. And - he can get his hands on most anything he wants to. He's got his sister's strength and agility combined with his brother's amazing capacity for figuring things out. This is a dangerous combination in a 2 year old. He can climb anything, escape anything, take anything apart, and has unlimited energy (he really doesn't nap anymore). I'd love to create a giant, toddler size hamster ball to put him in and let him bash around the house awhile without being able to hurt himself.
You see, he doesn't want toys anymore. I've tried every bait and switch in the book. It distracts him for 30 seconds and then he's back trying to play with the entertainment system, or the dish cupboard, or the refrigerator, or the CD rack, or the computer. I used to just put things up, but I'm running out of UP. Besides, I can't move the equipment.
I keep hoping he will pass through this phase quickly, or else a padded room will be required. For him or for me remains to be seen.....
Sometimes I think that parenthood is God's inside joke on His children. It's the only thing that explains why all my kids are very much like and yet nothing at all like myself and my husband (well, that and Mendelian genetics, but still).
You would think, by the time I got to the third child, I might have an inkling of what I was doing - right? Wrong!
So, #1 Son comes along and we follow all the parenting and pediatrician's advice - 3 1/2 years later we find out that the reason very little of it worked is because he has autism. Ahhh, of course - now all those unexplained tantrums/obsessions/pickiness/not-wanting-to-sleep etc. make sense. Okay, got it. Shift gears. Read up on autism, evaluate strategy, adapt. (And keep on adapting as it turns out, but that's another story, never mind, anyway....)
Next, Dear Daughter comes along. Definitely not autistic, thank goodness. Rather, social butterfly. Extrovert in the extreme. Where did this child come from again? Gotta love those Mendelian genetics - recessive genes, gotta be. With the non-stop energy of a kangaroo - for a while we called her Tigger. She has two speeds - fast forward and asleep - nothing in between. And oh, the drama....
Now then, #2 Son comes along. With trepidation we wait to see if autism makes an appearance again. No? Okay, great. So, boy raising strategy minus autism adaptation. Er, yeah. Well, maybe?
Huh. This one defies the parenting books, the pediatrician's advice, and all our knowledge and experience gained with his brother and sister. An extrovert like his sister, he wants to follow me around everywhere I go. But, like his brother - fascinated with how everything works. So he follows me around and wreaks havoc everywhere he goes. Whereas Chris would play with the light switches for hours at a time, Connor wants to take apart anything he can get his hands on. And - he can get his hands on most anything he wants to. He's got his sister's strength and agility combined with his brother's amazing capacity for figuring things out. This is a dangerous combination in a 2 year old. He can climb anything, escape anything, take anything apart, and has unlimited energy (he really doesn't nap anymore). I'd love to create a giant, toddler size hamster ball to put him in and let him bash around the house awhile without being able to hurt himself.
You see, he doesn't want toys anymore. I've tried every bait and switch in the book. It distracts him for 30 seconds and then he's back trying to play with the entertainment system, or the dish cupboard, or the refrigerator, or the CD rack, or the computer. I used to just put things up, but I'm running out of UP. Besides, I can't move the equipment.
I keep hoping he will pass through this phase quickly, or else a padded room will be required. For him or for me remains to be seen.....
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
An experiment
I'd like to try a little experiment and see how it goes. You may have noticed I've been a bit lax in posting lately. It's not for lack of ideas or want of writing. It's just that the "sensible" part of me says that blogging is an extra, not a necessary in my life. Only I've noticed over the past few weeks that I've had this almost constant mental friction - a spiritual itch, a soul deep angst - overlaying everything I do and think.
I've been pondering this and I think I've reached a conclusion. I wonder if my angst is nothing more or less than the frustrated Muse within. All my life I've had (and needed) some sort of artistic outlet. For most of my life, the main outlet was singing or playing an instrument. but right now the circumstances of my life work against the idea of being in some sort of ensemble. I have noticed also that the weeks that I have been able to blog a lot (sounds like a new knight at the round table - Sir Blogs a Lot) that I haven't had that constant mental itch in the back of my head.
So - here's the experiment. I'm going to make a point to post on this blog every weekday (for starters at least; weekend posts are always erratic because a lot depends on my church activity schedule.) I'm going to attempt to put a gag on the Editor who likes to sit on my shoulder. I'll try to not worry about whether my ideas are too silly or not profound enough to print. And we'll see what comes of it.
Incidentally, I will pick up my Life of Beth series again, but I think I'll need to do shorter chapters. The ones I've been posting have each taken an hour or more, and that's part of what 's been standing in my way.
So - look for me here tomorrow, who knows what the Muse will have to say for herself...
I've been pondering this and I think I've reached a conclusion. I wonder if my angst is nothing more or less than the frustrated Muse within. All my life I've had (and needed) some sort of artistic outlet. For most of my life, the main outlet was singing or playing an instrument. but right now the circumstances of my life work against the idea of being in some sort of ensemble. I have noticed also that the weeks that I have been able to blog a lot (sounds like a new knight at the round table - Sir Blogs a Lot) that I haven't had that constant mental itch in the back of my head.
So - here's the experiment. I'm going to make a point to post on this blog every weekday (for starters at least; weekend posts are always erratic because a lot depends on my church activity schedule.) I'm going to attempt to put a gag on the Editor who likes to sit on my shoulder. I'll try to not worry about whether my ideas are too silly or not profound enough to print. And we'll see what comes of it.
Incidentally, I will pick up my Life of Beth series again, but I think I'll need to do shorter chapters. The ones I've been posting have each taken an hour or more, and that's part of what 's been standing in my way.
So - look for me here tomorrow, who knows what the Muse will have to say for herself...
Wandering mind Wednesday
A lot of the bloggers I regularly read do a "Wordless Wednesday". Which I like, but I am hopelessly slow with photos and links. But I always have a lot of random ideas pinging around in my brain that don't necessarily go together. So here's a few thoughts that have ambled into my head over the past few days...
1. Why do they call the part of the US that I live in a temperate zone when it has some of the most IN-temperate weather I can imagine? Last week I was digging out our shorts and t-shirts again because it was in the 70's. Today, wearing a t-shirt, sweatshirt, jeans and socks, sitting inside my heated house, my fingers are still so cold I can barely type these words - it's coming up on noon my thermometer reads 35 degrees F.
2. Why is it that the same children who bounce out of bed at 7am on a Saturday remain unconscious lumps until I shovel them out of bed kicking and screaming on a school day?
3. Yesterday while bringing in the trash cans I bent down to pick up what I thought was a piece of discarded plastic that got blown out of someone's can - turns out it was a small plastic rosary. I have no way of knowing whose it is and I'm not Catholic. Do I keep it? Throw it out? Is that sacreligious? My daughter thought it made a cool necklace. Is that sacreligious too?
4. I used to read mostly non-fiction. Lately I've been devouring novels like there's no tomorrow. Is there a reason for this? What does that say about me?
5. When I go to church, listen to a Christian radio station, or read a book about the Christian journey, I hear a lot about being a good witness, letting my light shine, being a good example for others, etc. But the reality of my daily life is that for 6 days of the week, my sphere of influence is 4 people (1 husband, 3 children) and 1 small cat. That's it. Yes, I try to be nice to the store clerks (specially since I was one once). I try to drive my car so's not to be a hypocrite in light of the Jesus fish on the back of it. I try to be courteous to telemarketers. I am involved at church, but that's just 1 day out of 7. But for the most part, my day to day life with its triumphs and struggles is only lived out in front of those 4 people. Period. Is that okay with God? Should I be looking to add to my already overcrowded schedule? And how, exactly does one practice the presence of God while sorting laundry?
6. Being a SAHM requires me to live on the craziest schedule. Short bursts of frantic activity followed by countless hours of tedium. One day I have so many appointments and errands I'm hardly home. The next day I'm trying to dig the house out from where I threw everything from the day(s) before. I think the only people with a LESS predictable schedule than I have are doctors and first responders (firefighters, EMT's, police officers).
Anyway, those are my random musings for today....
1. Why do they call the part of the US that I live in a temperate zone when it has some of the most IN-temperate weather I can imagine? Last week I was digging out our shorts and t-shirts again because it was in the 70's. Today, wearing a t-shirt, sweatshirt, jeans and socks, sitting inside my heated house, my fingers are still so cold I can barely type these words - it's coming up on noon my thermometer reads 35 degrees F.
2. Why is it that the same children who bounce out of bed at 7am on a Saturday remain unconscious lumps until I shovel them out of bed kicking and screaming on a school day?
3. Yesterday while bringing in the trash cans I bent down to pick up what I thought was a piece of discarded plastic that got blown out of someone's can - turns out it was a small plastic rosary. I have no way of knowing whose it is and I'm not Catholic. Do I keep it? Throw it out? Is that sacreligious? My daughter thought it made a cool necklace. Is that sacreligious too?
4. I used to read mostly non-fiction. Lately I've been devouring novels like there's no tomorrow. Is there a reason for this? What does that say about me?
5. When I go to church, listen to a Christian radio station, or read a book about the Christian journey, I hear a lot about being a good witness, letting my light shine, being a good example for others, etc. But the reality of my daily life is that for 6 days of the week, my sphere of influence is 4 people (1 husband, 3 children) and 1 small cat. That's it. Yes, I try to be nice to the store clerks (specially since I was one once). I try to drive my car so's not to be a hypocrite in light of the Jesus fish on the back of it. I try to be courteous to telemarketers. I am involved at church, but that's just 1 day out of 7. But for the most part, my day to day life with its triumphs and struggles is only lived out in front of those 4 people. Period. Is that okay with God? Should I be looking to add to my already overcrowded schedule? And how, exactly does one practice the presence of God while sorting laundry?
6. Being a SAHM requires me to live on the craziest schedule. Short bursts of frantic activity followed by countless hours of tedium. One day I have so many appointments and errands I'm hardly home. The next day I'm trying to dig the house out from where I threw everything from the day(s) before. I think the only people with a LESS predictable schedule than I have are doctors and first responders (firefighters, EMT's, police officers).
Anyway, those are my random musings for today....
Thursday, November 6, 2008
The flip side to yesterday's post
I read a disturbing quote on CNN.com today referring to President-elect Obama.
By Stuart Rothenberg, "They don't think he's merely going to be president. They think he's been elected savior." And it showed an artist's rendering of Barack Obama in a Superman costume.
Oooooo-kay. Now THIS I have a problem with. As I said yesterday, I am hopeful about the effect of Barack Obama's election on our country and our relations with the world. He seems like a good man and a good politician. I hope time will prove him to be both. But he is a man. Just a man - a mere mortal like the rest of us. He is not a savior. Those of us who call ourselves Christians already have a Savior - Jesus Christ. Who incidentally warned his followers time and time again about putting our trust in anyone but Him.
Psalm 118:8, 9 "It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man. It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in princes." Or presidents, I might add. No matter how powerful and charismatic they are.
I would be as happy as anyone if our new President can help fix our economic mess, unify our country, and improve foreign relations. But whether he can or can't, I already have a Savior.
1 John 5:21 "Dear children, keep yourselves from idols."
By Stuart Rothenberg, "They don't think he's merely going to be president. They think he's been elected savior." And it showed an artist's rendering of Barack Obama in a Superman costume.
Oooooo-kay. Now THIS I have a problem with. As I said yesterday, I am hopeful about the effect of Barack Obama's election on our country and our relations with the world. He seems like a good man and a good politician. I hope time will prove him to be both. But he is a man. Just a man - a mere mortal like the rest of us. He is not a savior. Those of us who call ourselves Christians already have a Savior - Jesus Christ. Who incidentally warned his followers time and time again about putting our trust in anyone but Him.
Psalm 118:8, 9 "It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man. It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in princes." Or presidents, I might add. No matter how powerful and charismatic they are.
I would be as happy as anyone if our new President can help fix our economic mess, unify our country, and improve foreign relations. But whether he can or can't, I already have a Savior.
1 John 5:21 "Dear children, keep yourselves from idols."
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Proud to be an American today
Today is a historical day. A momentous day. A day that I am proud to be an American.
I have two confessions to make:
1. I voted for McCain.
2. I secretly hoped Obama would win.
Okay, now that I've shocked EVERYBODY, let me explain.
I usually avoid talking politics. That whole non-confrontational thing. My husband and I have a very interesting situation come election times. I was raised by conservative Republicans. He was raised by fairly liberal Democrats. The two of us meet somewhere in the middle - liberal Republicans, or conservative Democrats - Moderates, if you will (though we seem to be a dying breed.) However, we agreed, that so as not to cancel out each other's votes, but present a united front - we would decide together who we would vote for during a Presidential election.
We have had many, MANY discussions over the past year or so - issues, platforms, voting records, the whole nine yards. Neither candidate completely satisfied our consciences. But we refused to throw away our votes - we wanted to cast them for one of the candidates who could actually win.
We didn't agree with the Democrats, morally. We didn't agree with how the Republicans have run the country, practically. We didn't like Obama's inexperience. We didn't like McCain's temper. We wondered why the Republican party insisted on coming up with an "old white man " candidate.....again. We wondered if Obama would flub up foreign policy. We wondered if it was wise to have a man who'd undergone torture to have his finger on the red button.
Over, and over, and over we hashed it out.
Last night I watched the election results in utter fascination. It was like watching a giant, historical chess game being played out. And when the official announcement was made.... I got chills down my spine. This was history being made, before my eyes.
As big (or bigger) than when Americans got to watch the moon landing. Which since I was a baby at the time, is really only a history lesson for me.
There were a lot of things about this election that I liked. I liked that both candidates were rather more gracious than candidates have been in the past. I liked that Obama was humble winner. I liked that McCain was a gracious loser. I loved seeing my country gather up enthusiasm for the voting process itself. The apathy which has held many in it's grip has concerned me a lot.
And so now, once again, America has made history. The sacrifices, prayers, and tears of so many before us, both famous and unknown, have made this possible. I like this story. It is, if nothing else, a quintessentially American story. You'd be hard pressed to write a story this good. Truth is stranger than fiction. The underdog comes from behind and wins the day. There's something very satisfying about that, if you're an American. Our country was founded by the underdogs with a dream.
I want to believe in this story. I like this junior Senator from Illinois with his charisma and charm, his political savvy and speaking skills. I want to believe that he can deliver on his promises. I want to believe in the hope that he engenders, for our nation, for our future. I want to believe that he can re-unite our fractured country, help us to pull ourselves back up by our bootstraps, and restore our reputation among the nations of the world.
Some said they were surprised he seemed so sober in his acceptance speech. I think it speaks well of him. He knows that not just a nation, but the world, will be watching his every move. A heavy burden for one man to bear. I pray God grants him wisdom. I pray our nation grants him patience.
For though as a Christian, I know this nation is not my final home, I pray our new President can lead us into making it a better place to live in the meantime - a nation again with liberty and justice for all.
I have two confessions to make:
1. I voted for McCain.
2. I secretly hoped Obama would win.
Okay, now that I've shocked EVERYBODY, let me explain.
I usually avoid talking politics. That whole non-confrontational thing. My husband and I have a very interesting situation come election times. I was raised by conservative Republicans. He was raised by fairly liberal Democrats. The two of us meet somewhere in the middle - liberal Republicans, or conservative Democrats - Moderates, if you will (though we seem to be a dying breed.) However, we agreed, that so as not to cancel out each other's votes, but present a united front - we would decide together who we would vote for during a Presidential election.
We have had many, MANY discussions over the past year or so - issues, platforms, voting records, the whole nine yards. Neither candidate completely satisfied our consciences. But we refused to throw away our votes - we wanted to cast them for one of the candidates who could actually win.
We didn't agree with the Democrats, morally. We didn't agree with how the Republicans have run the country, practically. We didn't like Obama's inexperience. We didn't like McCain's temper. We wondered why the Republican party insisted on coming up with an "old white man " candidate.....again. We wondered if Obama would flub up foreign policy. We wondered if it was wise to have a man who'd undergone torture to have his finger on the red button.
Over, and over, and over we hashed it out.
Last night I watched the election results in utter fascination. It was like watching a giant, historical chess game being played out. And when the official announcement was made.... I got chills down my spine. This was history being made, before my eyes.
As big (or bigger) than when Americans got to watch the moon landing. Which since I was a baby at the time, is really only a history lesson for me.
There were a lot of things about this election that I liked. I liked that both candidates were rather more gracious than candidates have been in the past. I liked that Obama was humble winner. I liked that McCain was a gracious loser. I loved seeing my country gather up enthusiasm for the voting process itself. The apathy which has held many in it's grip has concerned me a lot.
And so now, once again, America has made history. The sacrifices, prayers, and tears of so many before us, both famous and unknown, have made this possible. I like this story. It is, if nothing else, a quintessentially American story. You'd be hard pressed to write a story this good. Truth is stranger than fiction. The underdog comes from behind and wins the day. There's something very satisfying about that, if you're an American. Our country was founded by the underdogs with a dream.
I want to believe in this story. I like this junior Senator from Illinois with his charisma and charm, his political savvy and speaking skills. I want to believe that he can deliver on his promises. I want to believe in the hope that he engenders, for our nation, for our future. I want to believe that he can re-unite our fractured country, help us to pull ourselves back up by our bootstraps, and restore our reputation among the nations of the world.
Some said they were surprised he seemed so sober in his acceptance speech. I think it speaks well of him. He knows that not just a nation, but the world, will be watching his every move. A heavy burden for one man to bear. I pray God grants him wisdom. I pray our nation grants him patience.
For though as a Christian, I know this nation is not my final home, I pray our new President can lead us into making it a better place to live in the meantime - a nation again with liberty and justice for all.
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