Some of you may have recently read about a woman named Emily Letts; she publicized her own abortion by video-taping it and posting it to YouTube. After working as an abortion-doula (that's apparently an actual thing) for years, she found herself in a predicament many of her former clients have been in--in the midst of an unwanted pregnancy.
She knew immediately that she'd get an abortion, but what she didn't plan on, at first, anyway, was using the procedure as a "teaching moment" for other women who may be considering an abortion. She said she could not find one other instance of the actual procedure publicized on YouTube, and she was going to be the first. She was warned of the backlash it would cause, to which she said "bring it on."
It was apparently brought. Letts says that she received the expected hate mail such an act might incite-- one person called her a Nazi-- but that the women she positively impacted made it worthwhile.
Because I vehemently disagree with Letts I am expected to act hatefully and aggressively. It's perhaps even the way Letts may want me to react, because that way I'm easy to dismiss. My arguments could be written off as heated and uninformed. I'd be just another brainwashed conservative American pitching Psalm 139 to a country that largely does not believe the Bible as truth.
I am not that person. I don't hate Emily Letts. I don't wish her ill. You cannot cast me off as uninformed and my arguments as unsound.
Those who know me understand that I am a people-pleaser to the core. My biggest struggles stem from the innate compulsion to mince my words in such a way that I will offend nobody. (Part of this comes from the fact that I had an outspoken year in high school that makes me cringe to this day.) It's hard for me to firmly and publicly say something I know people will disagree with, but I have no trouble saying this: Emily Letts was wrong.
The most important issue I take with the whole thing is not that she had an abortion, though I've made no secret I believe abortion is wrong. The thing that compels me to speak up about this is the attitude with which she regarded the entire thing-- a self-centered joy over the occasion-- and the hero's reception much of the media is giving her.
I've decided against linking the articles I've read to this page because they're appalling, if I'm being frank. But I'll summarize. Letts said things like "she was feeling the love of those in the room." She was humming along, much like an actual birth, and, to her, it was as birth-like as could be. Her goal was to show how relatively quick, easy, and painless the experience could be. Polymic thinks she's essentially destroyed the biggest argument pro-lifers stand behind, which is that abortions are scary, dangerous, and painful.
1. Her experience was not anything like a real birth. On so many levels, her pseudo-birth was not like a real birth. She did not have that nine month pause-- the nine month's hard work and build-up to the reception of a child. She did not go through waves of excruciating pain for hours. She did not let her body become maimed by the growing and birthing of a child. And she did not experience the surreal bliss that is accepting your baby in shaking arms for the first time. For that I mourn with her, regardless of whether or not she understands what she has missed.
2. Emily succeeded in showing that not all abortions feature gore and pain. They do not always leave a woman infertile or permanently damaged. For that I am happy--her life is a valuable and intentional part of God's design, and I do not desire things like that for anybody. But this does not dismantle pro-life's most essential argument against abortion, it highlights it.
Abortion doesn't disgust me because I fear for the women's safety who choose them. It disgusts me because it results in the loss of a human child. By painting abortion as a twisted form of cheapened birth-- a birth that has nothing to do with a child and everything to do with the woman undergoing it-- Emily (and those lauding her) emphasize what abortion is at its core: selfish.
I don't offer a disclaimer to that because it's true, but I feel it important to address the fact that I can relate to a woman contemplating abortion. Her frame of mind is neither foreign nor monstrous to me. It makes sense. I can imagine agonizing between wanting to bring the life inside you to fruition and preserving your life as is. I also feel it important to note that I grapple with the idea of abortion in certain instances. I don't believe abortion should be denied to a victim of rape. But I also don't think dire circumstances make abortion any less regrettable. An unwanted life is not less of a life.
Emily Lett's abortion is not the thing that puts a simultaneously angry and sickened knot in my stomach. Her attitude is. It's not only wrong but it feels like a slap in the face to anybody who has ever had to consider an abortion-- or to anyone who's ever gone through with one. I know women who have had abortions and who have not regretted it, and even they can't get on board with the mentality that says an abortion is a positive thing. A thing to be celebrated and lifted up as a beacon of hope to other women in similar situations.
I spent nearly a week of my life debating this question while three months pregnant with my son: If continuing to carry him means it might kill me, do I still want this pregnancy?
The answer to that question was yes, but I would be lying through my teeth if I said there was no room for "no" within that yes. I imagined what an abortion might be like. I wondered if it would hurt. I wondered if I could ever forgive myself for choosing my life over his, and it was agonizing. There is no other word for it. I do not believe I would have been wrong had the answer been "I choose to keep my life," but it would not have been easy and it certainly wouldn't have been something I'd want celebrated.
Thankfully I was spared having to grapple with that question for very long and I'm now the grateful mother of an almost two year old boy. A boy I loved before I held him, and a life separate from mine before he was independent of my will.
To say the biggest argument against abortion has been destroyed is laughable. To celebrate one woman's abortion is a jab to the gut of countless women who have agonized over the decision (regardless of what they chose). To relive the experience feels an awful lot like dancing on the grave of a baby.
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Saturday, April 19, 2014
A Lesson In Humility
This weekend has been a meaningful one for me. Matt and I both had Friday off (which was so nice, you don't even understand), and it gave me time to meditate on the Easter season, which I'd neglected to some extent until then. Life has been chaotic, inwardly and outwardly, for me the past month. Maybe longer. And I let my circumstances dictate my worship, which is something I strive to avoid. But it happened.
This weekend, though, I could feel God's gentle pull on my heart. My daily commute brings me through the mountains. It is gorgeous in the summer-- lush, green, and vibrant-- and treacherous during the winter. Even though winter's wrath has slowly begun to recede, its grip has lingered on the slow changing trees and hills I pass on my way to work. As I settled into my morning drive, I subconsciously took in the dead things around me. The dead trees. The dead grass. The dead leaves in the road. And then I noticed it, just a flash at first, and then another, and then another: Purple. I'm not a botanist and couldn't tell you what it was, but protruding from the craggy mountain walls were purple flowers. Just patches of them, here and there, the only life on a mountain of death.
I've noticed this all weekend, not just on my drive to work, but everywhere. My neighbor's flowers, the only ones in bloom, purple. On the side of the highway. On our way to the zoo. Purple.
For those of you who don't know, purple is traditionally a color of royalty. To me it was a reminder of Christ's royalty, as I acknowledge Him as King and Lord of my life. And as I began to ponder His royalty, I started thinking about His coronation process. It was not a glorious one. It involved being whipped and ridiculed, and, eventually, being crucified.
How humble God made Himself.
Humble. That's a word we don't understand as a culture. It's a word movie stars and professional athletes throw around upon acknowledging success. I watched the Oscars this year (as I do most years), and I can't tell you how many award winners stand on stage and say "I feel so humbled to be standing here."
You're standing on national television wearing a multi-million dollar dress and holding an Oscar. The word you're looking for is honored. You feel honored to be standing there.
You know what's humbling? To be God one day and man the next. To let yourself be tortured by a bunch of ungrateful, arrogant peons because irrationally, unquantifiably, you love them.
You know what's humbling? To be turned over to a death sentence by one of your best friends. To know your mother is watching you cry out as you're whipped by men you knit together as infants in the womb.
You know what's humbling? To beg your torturers for a drink of sour wine. To have your body pierced with a spear after you've yielded to death, just to prove you're gone.
You know what's humbling? To rise from the dead and then be turned into a borderline superficial symbol by those who want to use you to justify religion in their lives. Who want to use you to make themselves feel righteous by intermittently giving you a shout out, but never engaging in a relationship with you, not really.
You know what's humbling? To have your instrument of torture turned into jewelry or tattoos by people who neither know nor care what it really means.
That is humility-- willing, intentional humility, motivated by love and extended to the proud. Extended to me, the person who feels so entitled to her own happiness that she can't yield that to accept joy. (There is a profound difference between happiness and joy.)
Thank You, Jesus, for Your willingness to be humble. Thank You, thank You, thank You.
This weekend, though, I could feel God's gentle pull on my heart. My daily commute brings me through the mountains. It is gorgeous in the summer-- lush, green, and vibrant-- and treacherous during the winter. Even though winter's wrath has slowly begun to recede, its grip has lingered on the slow changing trees and hills I pass on my way to work. As I settled into my morning drive, I subconsciously took in the dead things around me. The dead trees. The dead grass. The dead leaves in the road. And then I noticed it, just a flash at first, and then another, and then another: Purple. I'm not a botanist and couldn't tell you what it was, but protruding from the craggy mountain walls were purple flowers. Just patches of them, here and there, the only life on a mountain of death.
I've noticed this all weekend, not just on my drive to work, but everywhere. My neighbor's flowers, the only ones in bloom, purple. On the side of the highway. On our way to the zoo. Purple.
For those of you who don't know, purple is traditionally a color of royalty. To me it was a reminder of Christ's royalty, as I acknowledge Him as King and Lord of my life. And as I began to ponder His royalty, I started thinking about His coronation process. It was not a glorious one. It involved being whipped and ridiculed, and, eventually, being crucified.
How humble God made Himself.
Humble. That's a word we don't understand as a culture. It's a word movie stars and professional athletes throw around upon acknowledging success. I watched the Oscars this year (as I do most years), and I can't tell you how many award winners stand on stage and say "I feel so humbled to be standing here."
You're standing on national television wearing a multi-million dollar dress and holding an Oscar. The word you're looking for is honored. You feel honored to be standing there.
You know what's humbling? To be God one day and man the next. To let yourself be tortured by a bunch of ungrateful, arrogant peons because irrationally, unquantifiably, you love them.
You know what's humbling? To be turned over to a death sentence by one of your best friends. To know your mother is watching you cry out as you're whipped by men you knit together as infants in the womb.
You know what's humbling? To beg your torturers for a drink of sour wine. To have your body pierced with a spear after you've yielded to death, just to prove you're gone.
You know what's humbling? To rise from the dead and then be turned into a borderline superficial symbol by those who want to use you to justify religion in their lives. Who want to use you to make themselves feel righteous by intermittently giving you a shout out, but never engaging in a relationship with you, not really.
You know what's humbling? To have your instrument of torture turned into jewelry or tattoos by people who neither know nor care what it really means.
That is humility-- willing, intentional humility, motivated by love and extended to the proud. Extended to me, the person who feels so entitled to her own happiness that she can't yield that to accept joy. (There is a profound difference between happiness and joy.)
Thank You, Jesus, for Your willingness to be humble. Thank You, thank You, thank You.
Friday, April 11, 2014
3 Things God Didn't Promise You
Christians love to claim God's promises. Too much month and not enough money? Matthew 6. Claim it. Still single? The entire book of Ruth. Your Boaz is somewhere. Going through any trial of any kind at anytime? Romans 8:28. Because it somehow applies to everything.
I'm not downing on this concept (okay, I am a little bit, but for a good reason). One of the most powerful things we can do as Christians is to cling to the promises God has made us. His word is true and His character faithful; what better salve to an anxious heart than to acknowledge the promises of an omniscient, infallible being? I can think of none. Inevitably, however, someone will walk one of this world's several bitter roads, cling to a "promise," and then experience something downright hellish anyway. All too often this is because we don't understand what God's promises to us are, or because a cultural Christianity perpetuates false ideas of God's promises.
So, without further ado, here are three things God didn't promise you:
1. God will never give you more than you can handle.
Um. No. I know it's a cute thing to put in a song and, let me tell you, people who are going through really awful things love to have it quoted at them, but I see no Biblical basis for this. Feel free to weigh in on this, I'd love to be wrong, but I've yet to hear a good argument for the principle behind this. 1 Corinthians 10:13 tells us that God will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. That's true. It's also very different than enduring suffering beyond what you can bear. Succumbing to a temptation is a choice. Enduring a hardship is often not. Christ tells us that His power is made perfect in our weakness. He tells us that, apart from Him, we can do nothing. So, in that regard, I think this quote is crap. It suggests that we're assigned struggles based on our strength. And, furthermore, it suggests that we're assigned struggle. Period. I know that there are times when God will call us to be tried, but to assume that every bad thing you experience in life is a direct result of God is wrong.
2. You can do anything. (Circa Philippians 4:13)
Indirectly translated, the verse actually says this: "I can do all this (sometimes it says "things") through Him (Christ) who gives me strength." It does not say "I can do anything I want," nor does it say "If you can dream it you can do it." The passage leading up to this verse talks about learning to be content in all circumstances, which leads me to believe the more accurate spirit of this verse is that, in any circumstance you may encounter, Christ's strength is available to you through His spirit.
3. God works all things together for your good.
As best as I can figure, this is a misguided interpretation of Romans 8:28, which says "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." I've written about this before, so I'll spare you a complete re-hashing of that, but here are the highlights: Because we want to believe that nothing bad can happen in our lives, we take the hard things that inevitably occur and we assign some kind of positive meaning to them. We affirm ideas like "this awful thing is just the bridge to something great," or "God is just using this to test me," and we wind up either A) wildly disillusioned with God, or B) waiting for a happy ending that may not be coming in the way we anticipate it. I'm not saying that God doesn't try people--there's Biblical evidence to the contrary-- or that something hard may not eventually pay off, but to assume that's always true is dangerous. It disregards one of the most basic truths presented in the Bible: We live in a fallen world. Sometimes bad things happen just because of that. And, further, it's a popular idea to individualize that verse-- to make it God talking specifically to and about YOU, when really, he's talking to and about all believers. Well, that changes things.
I'm all about claiming promises. I like when someone as powerful as God promises me something. But I'm also a big believer in understanding exactly what it is He promises.
I'm not downing on this concept (okay, I am a little bit, but for a good reason). One of the most powerful things we can do as Christians is to cling to the promises God has made us. His word is true and His character faithful; what better salve to an anxious heart than to acknowledge the promises of an omniscient, infallible being? I can think of none. Inevitably, however, someone will walk one of this world's several bitter roads, cling to a "promise," and then experience something downright hellish anyway. All too often this is because we don't understand what God's promises to us are, or because a cultural Christianity perpetuates false ideas of God's promises.
So, without further ado, here are three things God didn't promise you:
1. God will never give you more than you can handle.
Um. No. I know it's a cute thing to put in a song and, let me tell you, people who are going through really awful things love to have it quoted at them, but I see no Biblical basis for this. Feel free to weigh in on this, I'd love to be wrong, but I've yet to hear a good argument for the principle behind this. 1 Corinthians 10:13 tells us that God will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. That's true. It's also very different than enduring suffering beyond what you can bear. Succumbing to a temptation is a choice. Enduring a hardship is often not. Christ tells us that His power is made perfect in our weakness. He tells us that, apart from Him, we can do nothing. So, in that regard, I think this quote is crap. It suggests that we're assigned struggles based on our strength. And, furthermore, it suggests that we're assigned struggle. Period. I know that there are times when God will call us to be tried, but to assume that every bad thing you experience in life is a direct result of God is wrong.
2. You can do anything. (Circa Philippians 4:13)
Indirectly translated, the verse actually says this: "I can do all this (sometimes it says "things") through Him (Christ) who gives me strength." It does not say "I can do anything I want," nor does it say "If you can dream it you can do it." The passage leading up to this verse talks about learning to be content in all circumstances, which leads me to believe the more accurate spirit of this verse is that, in any circumstance you may encounter, Christ's strength is available to you through His spirit.
3. God works all things together for your good.
As best as I can figure, this is a misguided interpretation of Romans 8:28, which says "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." I've written about this before, so I'll spare you a complete re-hashing of that, but here are the highlights: Because we want to believe that nothing bad can happen in our lives, we take the hard things that inevitably occur and we assign some kind of positive meaning to them. We affirm ideas like "this awful thing is just the bridge to something great," or "God is just using this to test me," and we wind up either A) wildly disillusioned with God, or B) waiting for a happy ending that may not be coming in the way we anticipate it. I'm not saying that God doesn't try people--there's Biblical evidence to the contrary-- or that something hard may not eventually pay off, but to assume that's always true is dangerous. It disregards one of the most basic truths presented in the Bible: We live in a fallen world. Sometimes bad things happen just because of that. And, further, it's a popular idea to individualize that verse-- to make it God talking specifically to and about YOU, when really, he's talking to and about all believers. Well, that changes things.
I'm all about claiming promises. I like when someone as powerful as God promises me something. But I'm also a big believer in understanding exactly what it is He promises.
Monday, January 13, 2014
Thanksgiving, NYC Pitch Conference and Christmas
It has been quite some time since I've posted any sort of Dunham family update, so, here it is-- probably long overdue, but here nonetheless.
December was a really busy month for us. I feel as though I spend most of the year looking forward to Christmas-- particularly the months leading up to it-- and then December flies by before I've really grasped that it's here. That sums this Christmas up for us, but it was a great season of worship for our family anyway.
We had a great time in New York with Matt's parents for Thanksgiving. It was really neat to see Declan interact with his Nana and Pop-pops. He'd just gotten the hang of a few new words (I don't even remember what they were, at this point), so that was fun. Matt and I were able to make it to his 10 year high school reunion, which was fantastic. Pleasantville is a truly very cool community of people.
Shortly after getting back from New York for Thanksgiving, I found a pitch conference in New York that I felt lead to go to. It was something we considered very prayerfully, and, with a lot of help, decided to act on. I feel really happy with that decision, though it felt stressful at the time.
For those of you who don't know, a pitch is essentially condensing a manuscript into a one minute or less (200 words or less) summary in a way that will (hopefully) pique an editor's interest. It's the type of thing you might read in a book jacket.
A pitch conference is when you prepare a pitch, present it to a workshop leader in front of fifteen or so other novelists, try not to cry when said workshop leader rips it to shreds, re-work your pitch (let's not talk about re-working the manuscript yet, hahaha), and then present it to four editors in the hope one will bite on it.
Okay, so I'm not sure if that's how all pitch conferences work, but that's how this one went.
I went prepared to pitch two novels (you only get to pitch one, but I hadn't decided which one to focus on that weekend). I ended up going with a middle grade fantasy novel I'd originally written in 2012-- the one that made it to the semi-final round of the Amazon contest.
Long story short, those conferences aren't for the faint of heart. If you're ready and willing to let a stranger tear down what might be years of hard work, you're solid. If not... well, stay home. The first day was tough, but worth it. I think I came out with a stronger novel than when I went in. I'm already working on my rewrite, and I did end up getting a hit on the pitch. On top of that, everyone I met there was awesome. What a cool thing to be surrounded by other writers.
So, hopefully a few months from now, when I feel okay with what I've written, the fact that a major publishing house requested to see the manuscript will help me get an agent. We will see. I'm deep in prayer about it.
Five days after I got back from the pitch conference, the Dunham's hit the road again-- this time for Massachusetts. It was an interesting car ride. We not only had Declan in tow, but we brought Fenway (our dog, not the park) with us too. All I really have to say about that is... well, that happened.
It was so good to see family. They hardly ever see Declan, given that we live thirteen hours away, but we made up for lost time quickly. He's in love with Uncle Mike's beard, Ti-Ti Britt taught him his new favorite word (please), and he thinks Megan is the funniest person on this planet. We baked cookies with Nana and Papa (and were otherwise spoiled by them) and just generally enjoyed being with everyone.
Declan picked up about seven new words while being on Cape, so that may or may not say something about my family. ;)
And now... now we're just trying to adjust back to the every day grind. And also, not traveling. That's the other thing we're doing for awhile.
So, needless to say, it's been a busy, busy time full of lots of blessings and new direction. Following Christ is always an adventure, but especially lately for us. We couldn't be more thankful!
December was a really busy month for us. I feel as though I spend most of the year looking forward to Christmas-- particularly the months leading up to it-- and then December flies by before I've really grasped that it's here. That sums this Christmas up for us, but it was a great season of worship for our family anyway.
We had a great time in New York with Matt's parents for Thanksgiving. It was really neat to see Declan interact with his Nana and Pop-pops. He'd just gotten the hang of a few new words (I don't even remember what they were, at this point), so that was fun. Matt and I were able to make it to his 10 year high school reunion, which was fantastic. Pleasantville is a truly very cool community of people.
Shortly after getting back from New York for Thanksgiving, I found a pitch conference in New York that I felt lead to go to. It was something we considered very prayerfully, and, with a lot of help, decided to act on. I feel really happy with that decision, though it felt stressful at the time.
For those of you who don't know, a pitch is essentially condensing a manuscript into a one minute or less (200 words or less) summary in a way that will (hopefully) pique an editor's interest. It's the type of thing you might read in a book jacket.
A pitch conference is when you prepare a pitch, present it to a workshop leader in front of fifteen or so other novelists, try not to cry when said workshop leader rips it to shreds, re-work your pitch (let's not talk about re-working the manuscript yet, hahaha), and then present it to four editors in the hope one will bite on it.
Okay, so I'm not sure if that's how all pitch conferences work, but that's how this one went.
I went prepared to pitch two novels (you only get to pitch one, but I hadn't decided which one to focus on that weekend). I ended up going with a middle grade fantasy novel I'd originally written in 2012-- the one that made it to the semi-final round of the Amazon contest.
Long story short, those conferences aren't for the faint of heart. If you're ready and willing to let a stranger tear down what might be years of hard work, you're solid. If not... well, stay home. The first day was tough, but worth it. I think I came out with a stronger novel than when I went in. I'm already working on my rewrite, and I did end up getting a hit on the pitch. On top of that, everyone I met there was awesome. What a cool thing to be surrounded by other writers.
So, hopefully a few months from now, when I feel okay with what I've written, the fact that a major publishing house requested to see the manuscript will help me get an agent. We will see. I'm deep in prayer about it.
Five days after I got back from the pitch conference, the Dunham's hit the road again-- this time for Massachusetts. It was an interesting car ride. We not only had Declan in tow, but we brought Fenway (our dog, not the park) with us too. All I really have to say about that is... well, that happened.
It was so good to see family. They hardly ever see Declan, given that we live thirteen hours away, but we made up for lost time quickly. He's in love with Uncle Mike's beard, Ti-Ti Britt taught him his new favorite word (please), and he thinks Megan is the funniest person on this planet. We baked cookies with Nana and Papa (and were otherwise spoiled by them) and just generally enjoyed being with everyone.
Declan picked up about seven new words while being on Cape, so that may or may not say something about my family. ;)
And now... now we're just trying to adjust back to the every day grind. And also, not traveling. That's the other thing we're doing for awhile.
So, needless to say, it's been a busy, busy time full of lots of blessings and new direction. Following Christ is always an adventure, but especially lately for us. We couldn't be more thankful!
Monday, November 25, 2013
The Positive Power of No: Why My Son Will Learn To Say It
On Saturday afternoon I took Declan to the grocery store with me to pick up a few ingredients we needed to make cookies (so good!). It seems like DJ is growing every day-- he's learning new words, playing new games, and shooting up like a weed-- and every day it seems like he does something different to remind me how big he's getting. On Saturday this thing was to somehow throw himself over the edge of the race car cart he was sitting in (I'm that mom, now), and reach for a box of fruit loops. He didn't fall out, for those of you keeping score at home (he was strapped in), but he did manage to knock the cereal off the shelf and attempt to bite a hole in it.
He was quite pleased with himself. (I was secretly impressed.) But, while this behavior is probably very age appropriate, it is not something socially acceptable, so I told him (brace yourself), "No, sir."
I didn't yell. I didn't bend him over my knee and deliver a spanking. I didn't even sound angry. I took the cereal, put it back on the shelf, and attempted to proceed with my day.
The woman a few feet away from me, who'd observed the entire exchange, looked at me and kindly told me "You know, you really shouldn't tell him no. It could be very damaging to his self-esteem and psyche."
Thanks, Dr. Phil, I felt like telling her, but I've got it under control. I just smiled and nodded and mumbled a half-hearted "thanks" and went on my way, though.
Here's the thing that gets me: This woman (and I truly believe she was well meaning) was not the first person to express her distaste for the word "no" when children are concerned. And it makes me want to pull my hair out. Not because I feel judged (I'm used to society judging me as a mom, at this point), or because she butted into my business (it takes a community, or something like that), but because the whole concept seems fundamentally wrong to me, and it's one that is affecting the world in a big way, even if we're not seeing the whole picture yet.
Hard truth #1: Limits exist.
They're a real, sometimes tangible, sometimes not, thing, and I want my son to know this. I want him to understand that there are both natural and imposed limits in the world, and that there are both natural and imposed limits to his own abilities and actions. And I want him to learn this under the safety and protection of my care-- from somebody who loves him and nurtures him and will help him test these limits out.
I get that he's only one and a half years old. I don't expect him to heed my "no" every time I utter the syllable, nor do I interpret the times when he does not as blatant defiance. But I'm not going to wait until he is capable of completely understanding the concept to introduce it to him. Imagine how baffled he'd be if he woke up on his second (or third) birthday and I suddenly had rules but hadn't before.
I know that there are a lot of people who don't take issue with limits, but encourage others to enforce these limits in positive ways. For example, instead of saying "No, do not jump into the bath with all of your clothing on" say "Declan, you have a choice. Jumping in the tub with your clothes on is not a good choice." Firstly, good luck with that, because my kid is swimming by now, and, secondly, to me this is a damaging concept. Damaging because it's not an accurate reflection of how things work. Refer back to hard truth #1. Limits exist. (I reiterated in case you didn't feel like looking back.) Limits exist and there is not always a choice involved. And I think it's far more damaging in the long run to spin this reality as if "this is a choice/limit."
If we make "no" a taboo thing, of course it's going to be damaging when our children hear it. If Declan spends his whole Pre-K life thinking of the world as a series of choices that he controls, kindergarten (and life thereafter) is going to really stink. Of course his feelings will be hurt when his teacher tells him no. (On the other side of this, I think abusing/overusing the word no has the opposite effect-- kids become desensitized to it.) But if I introduce the concept of "no" in a non-threatening, safe way (no, son, chewing through a box of fruit loops we haven't paid for in the middle of Food Lion isn't going to fly), he's going to have a much healthier perception of the world and of himself.
And to address the other concern parents (and random women in the grocery store) bring up when it comes to the concept of "no," I am not worried that Declan will learn to say the word "no" and throw it in my face. I'm sure this will happen. I hope it happens. I'll probably eat my words on this later, but I think "no" is a powerful and worthwhile concept, and I want Declan to learn that "no" is not just something imposed on him by Mom and Dad and his teachers, but that it's something he has the right to express as well. Does this mean every time he says the word "no" he's suddenly exempt from a certain activity? Obviously not, and he'll catch on, but it's a concept he should learn and have a healthy grasp of. There are too many yes men in this world, and my son will not be one of them.
End rant.
Also, happy Thanksgiving!!
He was quite pleased with himself. (I was secretly impressed.) But, while this behavior is probably very age appropriate, it is not something socially acceptable, so I told him (brace yourself), "No, sir."
I didn't yell. I didn't bend him over my knee and deliver a spanking. I didn't even sound angry. I took the cereal, put it back on the shelf, and attempted to proceed with my day.
The woman a few feet away from me, who'd observed the entire exchange, looked at me and kindly told me "You know, you really shouldn't tell him no. It could be very damaging to his self-esteem and psyche."
Thanks, Dr. Phil, I felt like telling her, but I've got it under control. I just smiled and nodded and mumbled a half-hearted "thanks" and went on my way, though.
Here's the thing that gets me: This woman (and I truly believe she was well meaning) was not the first person to express her distaste for the word "no" when children are concerned. And it makes me want to pull my hair out. Not because I feel judged (I'm used to society judging me as a mom, at this point), or because she butted into my business (it takes a community, or something like that), but because the whole concept seems fundamentally wrong to me, and it's one that is affecting the world in a big way, even if we're not seeing the whole picture yet.
Hard truth #1: Limits exist.
They're a real, sometimes tangible, sometimes not, thing, and I want my son to know this. I want him to understand that there are both natural and imposed limits in the world, and that there are both natural and imposed limits to his own abilities and actions. And I want him to learn this under the safety and protection of my care-- from somebody who loves him and nurtures him and will help him test these limits out.
I get that he's only one and a half years old. I don't expect him to heed my "no" every time I utter the syllable, nor do I interpret the times when he does not as blatant defiance. But I'm not going to wait until he is capable of completely understanding the concept to introduce it to him. Imagine how baffled he'd be if he woke up on his second (or third) birthday and I suddenly had rules but hadn't before.
I know that there are a lot of people who don't take issue with limits, but encourage others to enforce these limits in positive ways. For example, instead of saying "No, do not jump into the bath with all of your clothing on" say "Declan, you have a choice. Jumping in the tub with your clothes on is not a good choice." Firstly, good luck with that, because my kid is swimming by now, and, secondly, to me this is a damaging concept. Damaging because it's not an accurate reflection of how things work. Refer back to hard truth #1. Limits exist. (I reiterated in case you didn't feel like looking back.) Limits exist and there is not always a choice involved. And I think it's far more damaging in the long run to spin this reality as if "this is a choice/limit."
If we make "no" a taboo thing, of course it's going to be damaging when our children hear it. If Declan spends his whole Pre-K life thinking of the world as a series of choices that he controls, kindergarten (and life thereafter) is going to really stink. Of course his feelings will be hurt when his teacher tells him no. (On the other side of this, I think abusing/overusing the word no has the opposite effect-- kids become desensitized to it.) But if I introduce the concept of "no" in a non-threatening, safe way (no, son, chewing through a box of fruit loops we haven't paid for in the middle of Food Lion isn't going to fly), he's going to have a much healthier perception of the world and of himself.
And to address the other concern parents (and random women in the grocery store) bring up when it comes to the concept of "no," I am not worried that Declan will learn to say the word "no" and throw it in my face. I'm sure this will happen. I hope it happens. I'll probably eat my words on this later, but I think "no" is a powerful and worthwhile concept, and I want Declan to learn that "no" is not just something imposed on him by Mom and Dad and his teachers, but that it's something he has the right to express as well. Does this mean every time he says the word "no" he's suddenly exempt from a certain activity? Obviously not, and he'll catch on, but it's a concept he should learn and have a healthy grasp of. There are too many yes men in this world, and my son will not be one of them.
End rant.
Also, happy Thanksgiving!!
Friday, November 8, 2013
I Prefer When People Say Happy Holidays
"But Val, aren't you a Christian?" you ask? "Shouldn't this season be about Christ?"
The answer to both of those questions is, in my opinion, yes, which is precisely why I like the idea of "happy holidays." I'm not sure when or how this happened (though I have an idea), but somewhere along the way many Christians became convinced that the perpetuating of the phrase "happy holidays" is a liberal agenda to take Christ out of the meaning of Christmas. (To all of those who are muttering under their breath about the fact that Christmas was not originally even a celebration of Christ's birth, but rather of the winter solstice, I'm aware, but I'm not going to address that because it's irrelevant to my point.)
I guess, in some way, I understand why the phrase "happy holidays" could be annoying. I've uttered merry Christmas before only to be chided with "happy holidays to you too." That's ridiculous and unnecessary. Who honestly has that much time to be offended over something like that?
To get back to my point, though, here is why I do like "happy holidays" more than "merry Christmas."
Most people don't celebrate Christmas.
Most people enjoy their Christmas pandora radio station, hot chocolate, senseless trips to the mall, cold weather, hidden elves, and watching Will Ferrell in green tights fifty times in one month. Cookies and candy canes and wreathes and trees. I enjoy these things too.
But that's not really Christmas. And, frankly, it frustrates me that this has come to be what Christmas amounts to. The solution, however, is not to force everyone into saying "merry Christmas." Most people have made apparent that they don't see Christ at the center of the holiday season, so let them say what they really mean (happy holidays) and let Christmas be for those who mean it.
I haven't stopped saying merry Christmas, because that's what I celebrate (and I make this no secret), but I also don't feel like I'm sticking it to the man when I do so. If someone prefers I wish them a happy holiday season, or a happy Hannukah or some other holiday, I'm happy to honor that desire, and I don't feel like I'm doing a disservice to Christ when I do that. In fact, on the contrary, I think the allowance of "happy holidays" helps to break the phenomenon of cultural Christianity. (And by this I mean the trend of people going to church because it's part of their culture, but not really believing in or following after Christ.)
I'm not posting this as an encouragement to stop using the phrase "merry Christmas," but rather as encouragement to consider why the phrase "happy holidays" makes you angry (if it does), and if it's really worth it.
The answer to both of those questions is, in my opinion, yes, which is precisely why I like the idea of "happy holidays." I'm not sure when or how this happened (though I have an idea), but somewhere along the way many Christians became convinced that the perpetuating of the phrase "happy holidays" is a liberal agenda to take Christ out of the meaning of Christmas. (To all of those who are muttering under their breath about the fact that Christmas was not originally even a celebration of Christ's birth, but rather of the winter solstice, I'm aware, but I'm not going to address that because it's irrelevant to my point.)
I guess, in some way, I understand why the phrase "happy holidays" could be annoying. I've uttered merry Christmas before only to be chided with "happy holidays to you too." That's ridiculous and unnecessary. Who honestly has that much time to be offended over something like that?
To get back to my point, though, here is why I do like "happy holidays" more than "merry Christmas."
Most people don't celebrate Christmas.
Most people enjoy their Christmas pandora radio station, hot chocolate, senseless trips to the mall, cold weather, hidden elves, and watching Will Ferrell in green tights fifty times in one month. Cookies and candy canes and wreathes and trees. I enjoy these things too.
But that's not really Christmas. And, frankly, it frustrates me that this has come to be what Christmas amounts to. The solution, however, is not to force everyone into saying "merry Christmas." Most people have made apparent that they don't see Christ at the center of the holiday season, so let them say what they really mean (happy holidays) and let Christmas be for those who mean it.
I haven't stopped saying merry Christmas, because that's what I celebrate (and I make this no secret), but I also don't feel like I'm sticking it to the man when I do so. If someone prefers I wish them a happy holiday season, or a happy Hannukah or some other holiday, I'm happy to honor that desire, and I don't feel like I'm doing a disservice to Christ when I do that. In fact, on the contrary, I think the allowance of "happy holidays" helps to break the phenomenon of cultural Christianity. (And by this I mean the trend of people going to church because it's part of their culture, but not really believing in or following after Christ.)
I'm not posting this as an encouragement to stop using the phrase "merry Christmas," but rather as encouragement to consider why the phrase "happy holidays" makes you angry (if it does), and if it's really worth it.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Choosing To Abide In God This Week
I can't believe we've almost reached the end of October. It seems like only a week or so ago that Matt was heading back to school, Declan was starting daycare, and RU students were trickling onto campus (and stealing beloved parking spots, but I digress).
Time has eluded us, as it often does, and part of me feels like I've wasted the majority of my favorite season being preoccupied with other things. This week in particular was really trying for us, but as I sit typing this, I feel only thankfulness toward God that he's given us peace and that he always provides.
For those of you who don't know, Matt had the opportunity this year to teach in a different environment than he did last year. Whereas last year he was a traditional classroom teacher of seventh grade math students, this year he's working with two other teachers and a counselor on a project called "a school within a school." In many ways this project is more ministry than teaching, as the students he works with are considered to be "high-risk" by the school system. As you can imagine, this project has been no easy task, especially for a person like Matt, who is genuinely sensitive to the hurt and struggles of other people, and who so longs to help even when he can't.
We are very thankful he has this opportunity, and he prays for and loves his students daily, but man has it been a challenge in some ways. As every teacher gets at times, Matt has been feeling really worn down-- especially so this past week. Which was tough for me to see, because it also happened to be his birthday this week.
In fact, on the day of his birthday we woke up knowing that not only was he going into a full day of teaching (both math and science), but that he also had to leave directly from school to Salem in order to tutor until 7:30, and that he wouldn't be back until past 8:00. It was a long day and not very fun for Matt, despite my best efforts.
We woke up the day after his birthday to find that our plumbing was basically rendered unusable by a clog in the main drain. Which meant that we couldn't take showers, could flush the toilets sparingly, use only enough water to basically wash Declan's cups, and that we couldn't do laundry/run the dishwasher, etc. And that we were going to have to pay to have it fixed, which was a big headache. Oh yeah, and that our bathroom and basement were slightly flooded. Clearly feeling beat down, and just wanting one bright spot left over from the previous day's birthday, Matt asked for his brand new Dallas Cowboys sweatshirt his mom so thoughtfully gave him for his birthday, only to find that, not even having worn it once, Fenway (our puppy) tore the sleeve.
Not a good day. As Matt, honestly close to tears headed out the door for another day of hard work, I could only encourage him with these words, which became our mantra this week: It's time to put our money where our mouths are.
If you know me and Matt, you know that we make no secret of proclaiming the name of Christ. We believe wholeheartedly that He is not a distant and disconnected God, but that He loves us and provides for us daily.
But those things are so much easier to believe in theory. They are easy to say and less easy to feel when daily life feels like just getting through another day with your head above rising water. It's easy to say that Christ will provide for you in every way when you don't have to think about how you're going to pay an unexpected bill and grocery shop all in one week.
And that is why I am so thankful for this week, because God has taken my faith from what was in many ways theoretical, to what is in many ways practical.
In the Sunday school class Matt and I lead (College and Career at Cambria Baptist-- come check it out!), we're going through the book of Hebrews. Recently we've been examining Hebrews 4, which has been really interesting. During this chapter the author describes how God promised the Israelites wandering in the desert rest, but how that rest was really just a small and local rest before the ultimate rest He delivered through Christ. In that same chapter we find out that God's word is alive and active, which means when we read the Bible we don't just see historical events that meant something to the people at the time, but which no longer mean anything to us now, today. God is real and longs to be engaged in our lives, and, contrary to what culture teaches and what Christians unfortunately sometimes affirm, he desires this with everyone, now, today, just as you are.
Even if you disagree with me (I know a lot of you probably do), I just want you all to know that I don't believe in a theoretical God-- one that loves and longs for good and holy people, but who spurns others. The idea of making yourself pure for Christ is preposterous, because we are incapable of it. That's not what he desires. There is nothing too dirty or different, too big or too small for Him.
Our plumbing problem was not too small for God this week. Matt's torn sweatshirt was not menial in his eyes. We have peace not because our problems are solved, but because God does not just exist in the clean-cut aspects of life, but in all of it. And he calls us to have a faith that exists in the same way.
Time has eluded us, as it often does, and part of me feels like I've wasted the majority of my favorite season being preoccupied with other things. This week in particular was really trying for us, but as I sit typing this, I feel only thankfulness toward God that he's given us peace and that he always provides.
For those of you who don't know, Matt had the opportunity this year to teach in a different environment than he did last year. Whereas last year he was a traditional classroom teacher of seventh grade math students, this year he's working with two other teachers and a counselor on a project called "a school within a school." In many ways this project is more ministry than teaching, as the students he works with are considered to be "high-risk" by the school system. As you can imagine, this project has been no easy task, especially for a person like Matt, who is genuinely sensitive to the hurt and struggles of other people, and who so longs to help even when he can't.
We are very thankful he has this opportunity, and he prays for and loves his students daily, but man has it been a challenge in some ways. As every teacher gets at times, Matt has been feeling really worn down-- especially so this past week. Which was tough for me to see, because it also happened to be his birthday this week.
In fact, on the day of his birthday we woke up knowing that not only was he going into a full day of teaching (both math and science), but that he also had to leave directly from school to Salem in order to tutor until 7:30, and that he wouldn't be back until past 8:00. It was a long day and not very fun for Matt, despite my best efforts.
We woke up the day after his birthday to find that our plumbing was basically rendered unusable by a clog in the main drain. Which meant that we couldn't take showers, could flush the toilets sparingly, use only enough water to basically wash Declan's cups, and that we couldn't do laundry/run the dishwasher, etc. And that we were going to have to pay to have it fixed, which was a big headache. Oh yeah, and that our bathroom and basement were slightly flooded. Clearly feeling beat down, and just wanting one bright spot left over from the previous day's birthday, Matt asked for his brand new Dallas Cowboys sweatshirt his mom so thoughtfully gave him for his birthday, only to find that, not even having worn it once, Fenway (our puppy) tore the sleeve.
Not a good day. As Matt, honestly close to tears headed out the door for another day of hard work, I could only encourage him with these words, which became our mantra this week: It's time to put our money where our mouths are.
If you know me and Matt, you know that we make no secret of proclaiming the name of Christ. We believe wholeheartedly that He is not a distant and disconnected God, but that He loves us and provides for us daily.
But those things are so much easier to believe in theory. They are easy to say and less easy to feel when daily life feels like just getting through another day with your head above rising water. It's easy to say that Christ will provide for you in every way when you don't have to think about how you're going to pay an unexpected bill and grocery shop all in one week.
And that is why I am so thankful for this week, because God has taken my faith from what was in many ways theoretical, to what is in many ways practical.
In the Sunday school class Matt and I lead (College and Career at Cambria Baptist-- come check it out!), we're going through the book of Hebrews. Recently we've been examining Hebrews 4, which has been really interesting. During this chapter the author describes how God promised the Israelites wandering in the desert rest, but how that rest was really just a small and local rest before the ultimate rest He delivered through Christ. In that same chapter we find out that God's word is alive and active, which means when we read the Bible we don't just see historical events that meant something to the people at the time, but which no longer mean anything to us now, today. God is real and longs to be engaged in our lives, and, contrary to what culture teaches and what Christians unfortunately sometimes affirm, he desires this with everyone, now, today, just as you are.
Even if you disagree with me (I know a lot of you probably do), I just want you all to know that I don't believe in a theoretical God-- one that loves and longs for good and holy people, but who spurns others. The idea of making yourself pure for Christ is preposterous, because we are incapable of it. That's not what he desires. There is nothing too dirty or different, too big or too small for Him.
Our plumbing problem was not too small for God this week. Matt's torn sweatshirt was not menial in his eyes. We have peace not because our problems are solved, but because God does not just exist in the clean-cut aspects of life, but in all of it. And he calls us to have a faith that exists in the same way.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)