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!!

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.

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.

Why I Still Wear My Engagement Ring Even Though The Diamond Is Gone

In a sentence: Because I'll still wear my marriage when the diamond is gone.

On September 18, 2010 Matthew Dunham led me to a mountain top, waited for the sun to rise, and got down on bended knee to present me with a beautiful diamond ring and to ask me to be his wife. I said yes (several times-- I was genuinely shocked), and let him slide the simple but gorgeous ring onto my finger.

I loved that ring. I still do. I loved watching it refract the morning sunlight on our climb down the mountain. I loved seeing it perched on my steering wheel on the drive home. I loved being surprised to see it when I looked down during the first few days of wearing it.

Last weekend the diamond disappeared. I have no idea where it went or how it fell off. I still have the ring, but one of the prongs on the mount is badly misshapen. It doesn't shine in the morning sunlight anymore. When people exclaim shocked sighs upon seeing it, it's no longer to tell me how beautiful it is or to ask me how Matt proposed-- it's to lament that the diamond is gone. I've had a few people suggest I take it off until we can get the diamond replaced (which is seeming more and more unlikely-- our warranty won't cover it), but I haven't. And, the more I think about, I don't think I will.

When I accepted Matt's proposal and, with it, my diamond, I wasn't JUST taking the diamond, but the whole ring. All of it. Forever. Almost every wedding I've ever been to addresses the symbolism of the wedding ring-- the circle, which represents a commitment without an expiration date-- and, as cliche as it's become, I've internalized that, especially lately.

Having been engaged, and having known several people to get engaged, when people ask you to see your ring afterward, they're really asking to see the diamond. They want to know (even if they don't ask) how big it is-- the clarity, the cut, the carat, etc.

It's exciting. It's new. It glimmers.

But, eventually, vows are exchanged and life goes on and people stop caring about your diamond. It becomes common place, something expected and not anticipated, something good but not new; it's remembered as fondly as last year's Christmas presents.

And so does marriage.

That's right, I wrote it out loud. Marriage loses its luster in the same way a diamond does. It stops being as exciting as it was at first. There are moments when it's not as romantic as you always thought it would be. You come back from the honeymoon and life goes on. And you know what? It's okay. Not only is it okay, but it's normal. Not only is it normal, but it's good.

The beauty of marriage is not the diamond but the ring-- the always steady, never ending, durable hunk of metal that endures washing dishes, changing diapers, manual labor, and paying bills-- the nitty gritty every day things that don't go away just because you got married. The diamond is exciting and beautiful and lusty, but the ring endures-- the ring is the promise-- the commitment to keep being, existing as one unit even when it's lack luster.

There are days when I feel like my marriage is a ring without a diamond, and I'm not ashamed or afraid to say that, because it doesn't mean I love Matt less than I should, or that there's something wrong with our marriage. I'm decidedly thankful for those days, because those are the ones when I'm hyper aware of how much I do, in fact, love him. It's on those days that I know I didn't weave my soul with his because it felt good, but that I did so because I see him and love him still; he sees me and loves me still.

I think if more people understood this about marriage-- if we paid more mind to the "ring" than the "diamond"-- we'd stop having unrealistic expectations of our marriages, and we could appreciate the subtle beauty of something plain.

It is for these reasons I won't stop wearing my diamondless ring.

This Post Is Not About Miley Cyrus

Nor is it about Robin Thicke, though, to be fair, I'll probably reference both of them.

For the past five days I've been inundated with opinions regarding Miley Cyrus's performance-- it was out of line because she used to be Hannah Montana. It was borderline pornographic. It's not Miley we should be disgusted with, but Robin Thicke. Eventually it all turned into a steady stream of "blah-blah-blah" in my mind.

When I came home from work, checked my facebook, and saw the same article shared by five or six of my friends, I tapped into my inner passive aggressive and posted something "snarky" about it on my newsfeed. In retrospect, I was neither clever nor fair. People are entitled to post their opinions on hot topics, and I shouldn't be annoyed by this. Upon further reflection, I don't think I was really annoyed at the content of any of the articles, necessarily; I didn't read anything that I really disagreed with-- and, to be honest, after the third or fourth article I stopped reading anyway. My point, however, is that I was not annoyed by anything I saw in these articles but by what was not in these articles.

It seems like the issue has divided our population into two camps: We should be disgusted with Miley Cyrus vs We should be disgusted with Robin Thicke. What started as an issue of "modesty" (I use this word loosely, because it doesn't quite capture what the general public took issue with) turned into an issue of feminism. Bloggers are writing letters to the world's collective sons; talk show hosts are banning Hannah Montana from the TV.

But back to the title of this entry, which is (ironically) "This Post Is Not About Miley Cyrus," because, though I'm sure it seems like it is, it's not.

I didn't watch the VMA's. For those of you who also did not watch the VMA's and have (somehow) not heard about all of the to-do, here's a brief summary (and then I promise I'll go back to NOT talking about Miley Cyrus): She performed her new hit single, which is basically about partying however she wants to, alongside Robin Thicke, who performed his new hit single, which is basically about women claiming their freedom by unleashing their inner sexuality (with a few Fat Albert references scattered throughout-- you get the point). To spare you the details, to say it was graphic is an understatement. If you're tempted  to look it up (as I was), don't-- it's honestly kind of gross. A foam finger was involved, as were gigantic teddy bears. Spare yourself.

The performance's response was collective awe/disgust. It literally left The Fresh Prince of Belair and his family with dropped jaws. You can imagine the backlash was pretty fierce come Monday morning. Which resulted in backlash against the backlash, cries of stifled femininity, and the obvious question, "where does Robin Thicke fit into all of this?"

Here's why this post is not about Miley Cyrus: 

This is not a new issue.

For literally thousands of years, this issue has been manifesting itself in our societies. And it's neither the fault of woman, who decided whimsically to exploit her body (that's sarcastic), nor the fault of man, who decided selfishly to be sexually driven (also sarcastic). 

From the beginning of time men were created with the desire to be sexually intimate. Women were created with the desire to feel emotionally intimate. (I'm not saying there's no room for variation-- that a man can't desire emotional affirmation, and that a woman can't be sexual, nor am I suggesting it's unnatural for this to happen. I'm trying to say that, on the whole, a woman longs to feel special, unique, and coveted, and that a man longs to manifest these things physically.)

Now that we've discussed the birds and the bees... let me explain why I think this is important.

Somewhere along the line, women figured out that men are sexually attracted to women, and that, when they are, they tend to give the women to whom they are attracted attention. Women, longing to be affirmed-- to feel special and coveted-- reacted to this by becoming as desirable as possible. And it's a cycle that has been spinning out of control for a very, very long time.

Have you ever noticed the advertisements featuring products that appeal to a mostly male demographic? Almost all of them feature women in sexually exploitative ways.

Have you ever noticed the advertisements featuring products that appeal to a mostly female demographic? Do they feature men in the same sexually exploitative manners? You'd think-- but they don't. They likewise feature mostly women-- not necessarily in a sexual manner, but in an overly glamorized manner-- in a way that suggests "this is the way you should look, speak, behave."

And all of it feeds into the cycle of "women look like this; men, pay attention to this."

We saw this cycle for what it was at the VMA's on Sunday night. A girl trying to be noticed, and a man giving her attention.

So, to reiterate, this post is not about the VMA's or Miley Cyrus or Robin Thicke. That's not news, and we can't understand the issue by only focusing on why women sometimes behave like Miley did, or why men pay mind to and partake in what Robin Thicke did. They're not separate issues. One does not shoulder more responsibility than the other. The issues are as entwined as the water cycle. We desperately need a drought.

A More Detailed Update On Declan's Procedure

Hey all!

I just wanted to take a minute to give a more detailed update on Declan's procedure and the overall diagnosis (or lack thereof) of what's causing his breathing issues.

Let me begin by saying that Declan is very healthy! We're asking for prayers because it's obviously a concern, but this is not affecting his overall health at the time (for which we're really grateful), and we don't want anyone to worry unnecessarily.

The procedure they did today is called a direct laryngoscopy. They actually did something else too, but I forgot what it's called. The whole thing was essentially to check for any obstruction of his airway-- something that might explain the stridor (which is the gasping sound he makes when he breathes sometimes).

It's always a little difficult for me to update on something I don't completely understand, but I'll try to explain what we were told the best I can.

Coming into today, we knew that there were basically two situations the doctor was checking for, the first of which is called a subglottic hemangioma, and the second of which is called laryngomalacia.  A hemangioma is the little red "birth mark" (they actually don't appear until a few weeks after birth) on Declan's neck.  A subglottic hemangioma is a hemangioma that grows not only outside the skin, but underneath the skin in the airway. This condition is pretty rare, so I wasn't really expecting this outcome, but because of the location of DJ's hemangioma they had to check. The second condition, laryngomalacia, literally means soft larynx. Usually the larynx is rigid, like a straw, but sometimes it can be softer than usual in children, causing stridor. This condition is fairly common and usually not a big deal-- kids almost always grow out of it.

I felt sure coming into today that they'd go in, scope the area out, and come out saying "yep-- it's definitely laryngomalacia; he'll grow out of it-- no big deal."

Fortunately and unfortunately, they didn't notice any major blockage of his airway. They said it narrows slightly, but nothing that could really account for his stridor. This is good, in a way, because we obviously don't want there to be an obstruction, but also annoying, in another way, because there's obviously something causing issues for him and we don't yet know what that is.

I'm a little confused because I thought for sure if they didn't note an obstruction (that would be from the hemangioma), they'd chalk it up to laryngomalacia and that would be that. So I was surprised when the doctor told me his symptoms don't sound consistent with laryngomalacia-- it seemed like they did last time-- but I really like him and trust his opinion, so I'll trust him on this. Not to mention he has a degree in medicine and I can basically just measure out correct doses of Tylenol.

The other thing he mentioned was the fact that, even when Declan was sedated and on a breathing tube, they couldn't get his oxygen up to 100%. He said it's nothing to be worried about-- his levels were around 97%-- but that usually they can get children up to 100%, especially while on oxygen. This also indicated that there might be a bigger issue.

He referred Declan to a pulmonologist (lung doctor) in Roanoke. We go for an appointment next Tuesday. Hopefully it's a fairly painless process.  I'm worried that we're putting him through all of this over nothing-- like I said, he's a very healthy baby (toddler-- oh gosh)-- but I know that breathing is nothing to mess around with, and I'm grateful for doctors who err on the side of caution. If there is a bigger issue, I'd rather know about it now than later.

Declan was an absolute trooper today. He didn't cry once when they were taking his blood, and considering how confused he must have been after the procedure, he handled it pretty well. It was so tough to see him go through all of this, especially knowing we're not really any closer to knowing what's wrong with him. Pray for me and Matt as we take him to his appointment next week-- that we'll trust the doctors taking care of Declan, but also that we'll have enough discernment to know what's necessary and what's not.

A Mostly Declan Oriented Update

This summer has been absolutely flying by! Declan is officially one year old, which is nuts. I can distinctly remember this time last year-- how amazed we were by the newness of our little boy, and how overwhelmed we were with at times. It seems like he's doing something new or different every day now. We are so thankful for our little family.

It unfortunately rained on the day of Declan's birthday party, but we managed. Even worse was the fact that he got sick that morning and was pretty iffy the whole day. By bed time he was miserable and didn't sleep for the next two nights. (Well, he slept, but not much.) A trip to the doctor and an antibiotic later, and he's feeling much better now! Matt and I were so thankful for everyone who braved the rain and our cramped little living room to celebrate Declan's first year.

Matt's parents came to visit the week leading up to DJ's party, which was awesome. It was so nice to see them and to get all the Dunham cousins together!

Matt has been Mr. Mom this summer while I've been working. (He gets the summers off as a teacher). He was made to be a dad. I love that Declan already so admires him.

We take Declan to have his procedure done next Monday (the 22nd). I'm of course a little nervous to have him put under, but I'm relieved to know we'll finally have some definite answers to his breathing, because it's been getting worse. I'm hoping the doctor sees what's going on and tells us it's something he'll just grow out of, but if not, I'm glad we're looking into it and will know how to help him.

Declan now says the following "words" (his pronunciation still needs some work, haha): Dada, mama (very sparingly-- like hardly ever. No worries, son, I only gave you life), headbutt (all the time), and up (he says 'uh' and lifts his arms up) when he wants to be picked up. He also says "ffffff" when he sees Fenway.

He's getting so smart! On a more contradictory note, he ate dog food on Saturday evening. More dog food than vegetables, actually. (I in no way endorsed this activity-- can't even do three minutes worth of dishes anymore!)

I wrote the following on DJ's birthday

On Raising Declan James

You wear a piece of both of us
everyday, forever.
You are tethered by a rubber band
to the treasured pieces of my soul.
I am folded into the dimples
that dress your smile, wrapped around your baby giggle.

All the best parts of me
walk and move and breathe now--
they live outside my being--
revived at last because you use
my eyes to see the world anew.

I feel Cynicism release its cold grip
on me and breathe
greedy gulps of Light and Color;
a deep seeded hope blooms inside me,
coaxes and entices me
to see through big brown eyes
that I wore first but you
wear better.
We are fettered;
you wear a piece of both of us,
every day, forever,
and the honor is all mine, my treasure.

An Issue of Sexism and Humor: I Am Not Amused

I've been fighting the urge to angry blog for the past 24 hours, and now that I feel more level headed and less "come at me, bro!" I still feel compelled to write this blog.

Before I begin, let me give this disclaimer: I'm going to summarize an issue I encountered via facebook yesterday. I'm not a proponent of passive aggressively using the internet to start or fan disputes. I think it's immature and un-Christ-like. That being said, I still feel compelled to write about this because it's an example of a bigger issue that's been bothering me for awhile now.

As you've all probably heard, the George Zimmerman case went to trial this past week. The jury, which is comprised of all women, started deliberating yesterday afternoon.

Two hours into deliberation, they asked the court to provide them with a numbered list of evidence. Shortly after this happened, someone I barely know on facebook (we're no longer friends, not because of this instance, but because I met him once at Liberty and I quite frankly didn't even realize we were still friends on facebook) made the following remark: "Two hours into deliberation and you're just NOW asking for evidence? What have you been talking about all this time? #women #omgiloveyouroutfitwhodoesyourhair? (To translate: Omg I love your outfit who does your hair?)

Let me put this disclaimer: Though I really don't know this individual very well, I do know enough about him to know that he is a very kind hearted person, and that he would never intentionally belittle anyone. This is not your run of the mill, I'm going to put people down because I can, person. He even helps lead a youth group (something I really would expect him to be perfect for). That being said, the comment really took me off guard.

I recognized immediately that it was just supposed to be a joke. I wasn't supposed to read anything into it. He wasn't seriously trying to belittle these jurors, nor was he trying to belittle women in general.

But I think that's what bothered me most about it. He wasn't TRYING to do any of those things. He was just trying to be funny. And he was, to most people.

That really bothers me. It has bothered me probably more than it should for the past day. Every time I think about it I shake my head in annoyance. Not necessarily at him, because, as I said, this is a good guy, but at the fact that, in this day in age, comments like this are funny.

Maybe I should have just continued with my day, taken him off of my friends list (again, because I wasn't sure why I was friends with him still anyway) and let the issue rest. But if you know me you know I obviously didn't do that.

I pointed out that, though I'm sure he only meant it as a joke, that it could be easily taken as really sexist. Here are the responses I got:

First from someone who laughed me off and said something to the effect of "oh please, girls say horrible things about guys all the time. We need to have our fun too."

And you know what? He's right. Women do berate and belittle men with frequency, and as a wife and the mother of a little boy, and, honestly just as a human being, that has always bothered me too. I told him that it's not fun when women do it and it's not fun when men do it.

I left for dinner and came back a few hours later. When I checked my facebook I found an overwhelming response, mostly from other women.

And none of them agreed with what I said. My opinion was sarcastically belittled or laughed off. He was encouraged to present the joke as part of an "SNL skit" (something he probably does with the youth group, I would guess.) I was mocked by women who pretended to likewise be offended and then laughed. The person who wrote the comment to begin with said something to the effect of "we're way to easily offended in America." Another person wrote "America: where the majority are terrorized by the minority."

Firstly, I don't believe I "terrorized" anyone. I pointed out in a kind way that his comment had the potential to be taken in an offensive manner. I reiterated that I'm sure it was never intended to be malicious, but that I just felt compelled to bring it to his attention. I agreed that women shouldn't do this to men. I did not reply to any of the several people who replied to his status.

Am I angry? A little. Not really anymore. Not at him or any of the other people who replied, anyway. But I am angry at the state of not just America, but the Church, in many ways.

Over and over again I see attitudes that spell out "if you're offended, that's your problem, not mine. It's not my responsibility to not be offensive."

Actually, it is, in some ways. I'm not suggesting that people should or could cease to have opinions that offend other people-- nor that you shouldn't express an opinion if offends other people. That's part of life and, while it's sometimes unfortunate, it's inevitable.  But this was something entirely different. This was simply a "joke" (I'll get to that in a minute) that took advantage of a stereotype for the sake of humor. It was not necessary. It didn't express something vital. It was for the sake of humor only. James 3 urges Christians to be mindful of the importance of words-- to realize that what you say matters and cannot be taken back. It encourages Christians to be considerate of the people around them. So when I hear Christians say "it's not my problem that you're offended" over something like this, I want to pull my hair out. We are ABSOLUTELY called by God to watch our words-- to be peacemakers. Again, I'm not suggesting we compromise the message of the Gospel because it's offensive at times, but I am saying that you're tacky jokes are not only unnecessary but sinful in some ways.

As for the comment being a joke, that frustrates me too-- for several reasons:

1. This is not a hypothetical group of women deliberating on a hypothetical case. A 16 year old boy was actually murdered. His life is gone. And the fate of the man who killed him (I'm not here to debate if it was self defense or not) is on the line. His comment was not directed at nobody, it was directed at real live people who are in a horribly difficult situation.

2. He's using sexism for humor. #women #omg i love your outfit who does your hair. He is proposing that the jury is incompetent on the basis that they're women. I understand he probably doesn't actually esteem women in that way-- he was trying to be funny-- but particularly as a church leader I would expect him to be mindful that he is (whether or not he meant it this way) sending the message that women are incapable of handling serious business.

If it was a group of all black people and he'd said "What have they been talking about? #who does your weave?" it would be very obviously offensive. In fact, I'd wager he never would have made such a comment. And if he had, I'd wager nobody would be justifying it.

We'd care if it was racist. So why don't we care that it was sexist? My mind was just seriously blown when I was the only one not willing to laugh at this joke. It perpetuates a belittling attitude toward women. It is specifically making fun of six, real people. It is making light of a murder case.

But it was just for humor, so it's somehow okay. I'm sick of people putting humor above tact and consideration. And I'm sick of the attitude that claims we're not responsible for whether or not we offend somebody. To some degree, we are.

God Does Not Exist To Make You Happy

"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."
Romans 8:28

"God works all things together for my good."
Christian pop culture's interpretation of Romans 8:28

In recent months, I have found it extremely difficult to listen to Christian radio stations-- not because it's cheesy (though it often is) or because a lot of the songs sound the same (though they do), but because the messages are becoming more and more self serving, and less and less God centered, and, frankly, I can get a more musically diverse version of that on secular radio stations.

Here's what I mean: As I was driving home from the store today I flipped to the Christian station I usually listen to and heard the following lyrics: "God works all things together for my good."  Over and over and over again.  And all I could think was, 'actually, that's theologically inaccurate.' And it's been nagging me all day, not just because it's erroneous and I enjoy being a contrarian, but because it's a misconception that perpetuates a lot of even bigger misconceptions about who God is.

It's not just this song either. I hear the same thing in almost every other Christian song I hear lately-- maybe not always in the same way, but the underlying point is the same: God exists to work things out for my good, and our relationship is very much dependent on how I'm feeling.

And I can see why this mentality is a popular one; who wouldn't want God as their personal assistant? But it's a dangerous misconception that ultimately prevents you from seeing who God is, and eventually encourages disillusionment with God.

The idea that God exists to please you (or that He'll work everything out for your own personal good) is fine and dandy as long as everything is going well. You can shout alleluia's and post happy-go-lucky facebook statuses regarding how good He is to you. But what happens when something doesn't go well? If we believe that God is supposed to be working everything out for our good, it's easy to feel bitter toward God when something bad happens. But Christians have an answer for that, too. Instead of taking a step back and realizing that, just maybe, we've been misinterpreting this verse, we justify it in another way: God is just testing me; this pain will eventually lead to something better.

I don't believe that pain is a bridge to a happy ending. I don't believe that it was an original part of God's plan, and I don't believe He intentionally puts us through pain to achieve growth or to teach us a lesson. That's not to say that growing will always be easy, because it won't, but Christian's, as a rule of thumb, have a habit of assigning God's name to bad things and attaching Romans 8:28 to it for good measure-- as if to say, just trust in the end result.

All of this changes, however, when we take a deeper look at what Romans 8:28 actually says, because it isn't "He works all things together for my good."

Firstly, the Bible never says for YOUR good-- it says for the good of those who love Him. He's not referring to one person, necessarily, but to a group of people. And if you notice, the verse doesn't stop at "those who love Him," but continues on to say "those who are called according to His purpose." I know this verse is the center of way too much debate between Calvinists and Everyone Else, but here's how I see it: He will work things out for those who love Him, and who are working toward God's will.

Wait a minute, Val, that doesn't sound like God is promising me He'll ensure I score a recording contract/win the lottery/do whatever I want to do.

That's because He isn't; God promises a lot of things, but He doesn't promise to give you whatever you want. He doesn't even promise to always make you happy. This makes a lot more sense. Now, when something goes wrong, we're not as baffled as to why that is. We don't have to immediately wonder what part of God's plan this is-- maybe it wasn't a part of His plan at all. Maybe it's a result of the fact that we live in a fallen world, and so tragic, unfair things happen sometimes. Maybe it's just not what He's planning for your life, and therefore not the right thing. Maybe your motivation is a selfish one.

I'm not trying to say that the artist who wrote this song (don't even know who it was) doesn't understand what Romans 8:28 is actually saying, but he makes it easy for people who listen to his song to misinterpret it. And, honestly, it fits right into the current Christian culture, which only strives to understand God as it pertains to themselves.

There is a God outside your realm of perspective, and if you only ever try to see Him from where you're standing, you will only ever see a very limited God.

Happy Mother's Day

Some of you may have noticed that I don't make a habit of posting tons of pictures of Declan. This isn't because I don't take them, or even that I don't think to, but because every time I see something I want to capture and share, I'm a little disappointed when I look at the picture staring back up at me.

The number of times I see something in Declan that I want to capture-- to freeze and pocket and hold onto forever-- is not quantifiable. From the moment he was born, I've been trying to let other people see what I see when I look at my son; but I've given up.

Because I'm his Mommy, and it's the best thing I've ever been.  Because I'm his Mommy, and I think that means I get a window into the stolen precious moments God weaved into him before birth.

I don't post pictures of the way his hair curls around his ears when it's humid out, because you won't see it like I do.  I don't post pictures of the way he tilts his whole head back when he smiles.

I can't post a picture of the elated look of relief he gives me when I pick him up from the church nursery, or the way he bounces up and down in his crib when I walk into his room.

A video won't let you hear his laugh like I hear it-- so intense sometimes that he actually cries and has to stop to catch his breath.

You'll never get to see understanding dawn in his eyes when he learns something new. Not like I do.

Because I'm his Mommy, and it's the best thing I've ever been.

Part of me delights in this-- is happy that these things are all mine.  But a bigger part of me panics when I realize time doesn't stop for these moments-- time doesn't stop for anything.

And I know my memory will not go untouched or untainted by time's grip. And that one day these things won't be vivid in my mind like they are today. That one day he'll give that flirty grin to the woman he'll marry, and that the hand he reaches for when he's scared won't be mine.

So when I take a picture, almost greedy, almost hoping I can just keep one of these moments, I'm always disappointed.

And I don't even try anymore, because it's time wasted-- time I won't get back.

I can't hold onto these things anymore than I can hold onto water with my bare hands; but I can drink as deeply as I can while the moments still linger.

Happy Mother's Day to all you Moms who know what I'm talking about.

The Time Declan Was Almost Initiated Into A Sorority

A couple of weeks ago, Matt and I decided to take Declan to Virginia Tech's annual spring football game.  It's essentially a glorified scrimage, but it was a good opportunity to hang out with some friends, enjoy great weather, and get Declan into the stadium for free. (They charge full ticket price during the regular season, which is kind of ridiculous to me.)

We were lucky enough to find parking only a few minute's walk from the stadium, which doesn't always happen, but we were a little late, so decided to take a short cut.  This short cut happened to lead us right by your typical beat down, party on the lawn, bass shaking the windows type sorority house. (Or maybe it wasn't a sorority house, but there was definitely a pretty wild sorority party taking place.)

I guess they were just extremely exuberant for the spring game (again, glorified scrimage) because these girls were holding nothing back. And there seemed to be no shortage of a certain type of beverage, either. I jokingly (but not really, I was serious) told Matt that I doubted any of these people were planning on attending the game.

And I was right, because as we made our way back to the car, they were still there-- and the crowd was growing.  We're having a little bit of a laugh about this until I see them-- two entirely inebriated stumbling across the street toward the house.  We keep walking, only a few yards away from passing the house when one of them spots Declan who, in all fairness, was looking quite dashing that day.

It was like a tribal call: "Baaaaabyyyyyy!"

And that was all it took for about three or four of them to flock toward us. We tried to sidestep them, but to no avail. The only way to describe these girls are as follows: Drunk, Drunker, Drunkest, and How Are You Still Upright?

How Are You Still Upright: I love your baby. Like, LOVE your baby.

Me: Thanks. Me too.

Drunker: Seriously, cutest baby I've ever seen in my life.

Drunkest: Yeah, she's gorgeous.

Me: He's pretty cute.

How Are You Still Upright: Oh it's a he, guys, it's a HE.

She reaches a hand out to touch his face, at this point, and the only reason I don't stop her is because I'm busy contemplating the best ways to break her wrist if need be.  She actually reaches toward Matt as if to take him from her arms, and I'm about to throw down, when fortunately Drunk steps in.

Drunk: You are NOT picking up that baby, How Are You Still Standing.

How Are You Still Standing: (annoyed) I wasn't. I babysit, so I'm good. You don't have to worry.

And she says this like, five more times, as she continues to attempt to pet Declan's hair. Fortunately, I think her depth perception was off, because she's basically stroking the air.

How Are You Still Standing: Seriously, the girl I watch is (does a mental calculation) eleven months old? Yeah. So, yeah, I babysit. I'm serious.

Honestly, I hope you're not serious because that means, A) you're frequently in charge of another human life and, B) someone trusted you enough to put you in charge of a human life. This does little to put my mind at ease.

Drunk: So are you guys Hokies?

Me: He is, I'm not. (I'm just going to start telling people I am when they ask; they'll like me more.)

Drunk: Oh okay, but, like, you like, GET IT, right? I mean, you GET IT?

That you're drunk? Yes, got that a few minutes ago.

Me: Yep, I love it here.

Drunk: (think valley girl accent) Yeah, I love it here. I (expletive) love.it.here. And, like, I have to marry a TECH MAN (eyeballs Matt, who is holding Declan in one arm and my hand with the other.)

Me: Yeah... me too.

Drunkest: But like seriously--

Me: Well, we're going to go

Drunkest: Love your baby. She's so cute.

How Are You Still Standing is supremely confused-- she looks like she has already forgotten our entire conversation, and is unsure of who we are.  She moves as if to hug us, but we make our move and she misses.

How Are You Still Standing: Bye. Love you guys!

And that is how Declan was almost initiated into a sorority.

And also why he won't be going to college.

Where Does The Time Go?

As the weather starts to warm up (although in VA it doesn't 'start to warm up' as much as it goes from snowing to 75 within 24 hours) I can't help but remember this time last year.

We'd just gotten back from a crazy trip up north-- one that involved an ambulance transfer to Boston and a 2 day stint at Tufts Medical Center-- and were praying for the safe arrival of our baby boy.

He's currently napping upstairs in his crib... (Well, he's actually screaming bloody murder, but he's safe and healthy.) I know that not all of my friends believe this has anything to do with the power of prayer, or with the providence of God, but I do, and I'm thankful every day for it. Matt and I spent seven months of our pregnancy worrying that something was going to be wrong with Declan.  We only had two positive reports throughout the pregnancy, and I had two ultrasounds every month. I'm sure I'd feel grateful for a healthy baby even without such a scary pregnancy, but every day I see him learning and growing, my heart glows. I wasn't sure if we'd get to see him doing the things he's doing.

Already he's taking steps (definitely wouldn't call it walking-- he looks like he just got off the Mayflower when he does it), climbing on anything and everything, mimicking the sounds Matt and I make, feeding himself finger foods, clapping his hands when he's excited, putting toys back into his toy box when he doesn't want them (this is really funny to see), and using "nice hands" with our kitty. (He's not using nice hands with my hair yet, but we'll get there.)

The people at his pediatrician's office finally learned how to pronounce his name. (Well, all except one of the doctors, who refers to Declan as 'Butterball.' Not sure if that's affectionate or an indicator that Declan needs to be eating less.)

He's fast approaching his first birthday, and today is just one of those days when I wonder where the time went. I am proud of our Love Bug and thankful to the Lord for all He's done for us!

The Christian Culture Phenomenon

Something that I've become increasingly aware of since leaving the "Liberty Bubble" is the fact that, in many ways, I've been more a member of Christian culture than a member of the Church for much of my walk with Christ. I've hopped on board the devotionals, charity efforts, new music, and lexicon like the rest of my Christian peer group only to see that, in retrospect, many of these things were trends-- fads that perhaps started out being about Jesus but ended up being about Christian culture.

Since leaving college, I've attended two churches-- neither of which are contemporary in nature, and neither of which are chalk full of other people my age. The result has been really interesting. In some ways I feel like my faith has suffered as a result; contemporary music connects with me so much more than hymns. I'm not sure why, but it just does. There are some weeks where I go an entire service without really paying attention to a word I've sung. In that regard, I miss being in a contemporary church. In many more ways, however, the experience has been invaluably eye opening.

My pastor does not preach from a stool, basking underneath a smokey purple hue on a stage, latte in one hand and ipad in the other. The people who sit in the pew behind me are, on average, at least twenty years older than I am. There is a box of donuts sitting in the foyer as opposed to a cafe. The people who make the most effort to connect with the college group are grandparents. The only context in which I see an acoustic guitar is in my office collecting dust.

When somebody gives a mission report at our church, they're not wearing cutoff jeans or a backpack, and they're not sporting some trendy tattoo or piercing that screams "look, I've assimilated into another culture! you wouldn't get it." They don't talk about how they "loved on kids" (because trendy Christians can't simply say "loved" without a preposition immediately following), or how they experienced some really big "God things."

The absence of all of these things has really made me see that while I was in the presence of them, I was more concerned with "Jesus culture" (pretty sure the Biblical term for this is actually the church, but hey, you just do you) than I was with Jesus. And to be honest, I can kind of see why the rest of the world gets a little annoyed with "Jesus culture" at times.

Let me be clear, I'm not attempting to say that the things I've described so far are wrong, or that they don't have a place in the Church, because that's not my point. I think the point I'm trying to make is that these things, while they're permitted in the church, AREN'T the Church. And if you're unable to worship without them, you're probably not really worshiping in the first place.

It's getting under my skin more and more to see posts on facebook or twitter about rallying behind big causes, not because doing so is wrong, but because I get the feeling most of the people who are "disappearing for a day" from facebook in honor of those in slavery (that'll show 'em!) are really only doing so because some pastor at some conference caused an emotional reaction, and plus all you're friends are doing it too. It's not wrong to start caring about a cause because somebody brought it to your attention, but it is wrong to just hop on a bandwagon. Are you contributing to causes like these because the Holy Spirit has convicted you to, or to make yourself feel good about the things you're doing? It's a fine line.

And all of these catch phrases are driving me crazy. "Love God, love people." Okay, I get it, you've minimized Luke 10:27 to make it bumper sticker worthy, but in doing so, you've also minimized the charge of the Gospel; is that really something you feel comfortable doing? If the Bible was supposed to fit on a bumper sticker (not even a long one-- one of those new oval ones you can stick on your back window) I don't think God would have taken as long as He did to compile the thing. Sorry to have wasted your time, canonization committee, but we're going in a different direction. Bright side: we'll send you a T-shirt.

We've taken the Christianity of the Bible and turned it into a culture. And some people are able to exist in this culture and still pursue the teachings of the Bible-- which is great-- but many more are not. Many more come through the doors of the church and leave without ever really knowing what the Bible actually says.

Something I miss about the north is the fact that people who said they were Christians actually followed Christ, and the people who didn't just didn't. There was no confusion about. There were very few people who were convinced they were following after Jesus when, in all reality, they were playing "Chubby Bunny" at youth group.

So in all that, I guess my point is not to let anything hinder you from pursuing Christ-- not even His people.

Just An Update

Hello all!

Declan is finally napping for the first time today, my classes for the semester wrapped up yesterday, and I finally have a free moment to update on life.

We've been pretty busy lately, but, honestly, who isn't these days? Easter is fast approaching, which means we're getting ready for some much looked forward to time on Cape with my family. It's crazy to think that the last time everyone from that neck of the woods saw Tutter, he'd just gotten proper head control. Now he's crawling all over the place and even trying to walk.

Having a mobile baby is an incredibly scary thing. I kind of joke about not being excited about his first steps, which obviously isn't true. I'm so proud of my little guy and am in awe of the way he's grown in the past eight months. (Let's be honest, I'm in awe of the fact that neither Matt nor I have broken him yet.) But in all seriousness, there's a part of me that just isn't ready for him to be moving as much as he is. Praise the Lord we decided to convert our dining room into a play area, because without that I shudder to think of the kind of trouble he'd find around the house.

I keep having nightmares that he's crawling around the kitchen, chewing on bottles of Windex and pressing his hands to a hot oven. I guess it's time to baby proof... which leads me to our next piece of big news.

We're moving! (Again...) At least this time I'm not 8.5 months pregnant. It was something we prayed about doing in January, quickly decided it wasn't a good time for us, and then re-considered again when we found the right house. It's newly renovated, has a new kitchen, and 4 bedrooms. The biggest bonus is the fact that it  allows us to reduce our monthly payments by a significant amount. If all goes well, we'll hopefully close by April and slowly start the moving process. (The last time for at LEAST five years, thankfully!) We feel really blessed that God opened this opportunity up for us. Needless to say, this house is a good deal more baby-friendly than the one we're renting currently, and we'll be able to baby proof once we start moving in.

Declan is now awake and wants to say hi:    yunnyn

Words of wisdom.

As he is now currently wobbling around the playroom like he recently got off the Mayflower, I'd better go assist him (find a helmet that fits him).

The Dunham Family Lexicon-- Declan Edition

Have you ever had a friend with whom you've almost developed your own vocabulary? And then you occasionally use terms from aforementioned private vocabulary in front of other people and they think you're crazy?

Me too. Except I'm married to that friend, and it dawned on me the other night, when we had a house full of people over for the Super Bowl, how incredibly ridiculous we must sound sometimes. This has always been a quirk in our relationship, but it has gotten like... fifty times more ridiculous since having a baby. I'm not sure why. Here are some of the following terms you may here in the Dunham household on a regular basis-- and these are just the ones that refer to Declan.

Bink That Baby: (verb) Refers to a time during which Declan is screaming, usually at the top of his lungs, and either Matt or I need to go put his binky back in his mouth. We'd hoped this term would eventually expire as Declan learned to Bink His Own Person, but now he's developed the habit of throwing his binky across the room.

Unbinkable: (adj... actually, technically it's a nominal, but whatever) Unbinkable is a state of being during which the baby in question (Declan) refuses to be soothed by his binky. Typically a baby is unbinkable because he is holding out for a bottle, or for Mommy cuddles. This manipulation tactic is ineffective on Daddy, but gets Mommy every time.

He's Been Raptured: Being Raptured refers to a time during which Declan has moved out of the camera's view in his crib. Very frequently we'll look at the video monitor and only see his binky. It looks like a cheesy scene from the Left Behind Series.

Tuttin' It Up: I'm not sure how this happened, but over a series of much evolution, Declan's nick name has become "Tutter." (i.e Tutter Butt, Tutter Butter). Kids do weird things to you-- that's my only defense. But I digress. "Tuttin' It Up" refers to the transition time between being put down for the first time and Bink That Baby time. Tuttin It Up is a happy time of much cooing, squealing, scratching the walls, chewing the crib bars, and just generally reveling in not napping. Never try to Bink That Baby while he's Tuttin' It Up; this is ineffective at best, and it will make a baby Unbinkable at worst.

Real Live Declan Toots: This pretty much just refers to Declan toots-- also known as a "false alarm." I'm not sure why we felt the need to modify this; it's not like he ever has tape delayed toots, but we always refer to it in this manner anyway.

Those are all the major key terms. Be prepared to hear them if you ever come over. I'm thinking of publishing pocket editions of this to hand out as door prizes upon entrance to our home.

The Weekend I Didn't Bubblewrap My Son

This weekend I have become very aware of the fact that God has taken me on an incredible journey throughout my Mommyhood thus far.

For example, yesterday afternoon I realized that Declan was probably getting sick.  I knew this because my son, the Big Hungry, was content with only half of his usual hulk sized bottle. And then he didn't scream bloody murder for solid foods. To top that all off, he actually took a regular sized baby nap. So either somebody swapped my baby out for a fairly normal one, or DJ was feeling under the weather.

Matt laughs at me almost every time I decide to take Declan's temperature.  In Matt's defense, this is because I took it so much during the first three month's of DJ's life that the poor thing was probably starting to think the thermometer was a permanent annex to his buttock region. Even Matt, however, was shocked to see that little digital number climb all the way to 102.6.

Now, keep in mind that the woman writing this is the same person who literally took Declan to the emergency room the first time he coughed and spiked a whopping fever of 99.4. So, the fact that I wasn't dousing Declan in ice water while calling for the ambulance is quite an accomplishment, in my opinion.

I did, however, call the after hours line at our pediatrician's office. In case you've never called an after hours line before, if you ever do, don't expect a concerned soul on the other line. I guess these people are probably used to frantic mothers calling about more pressing issues, but when I began explaining Declan's fever to the woman on the other line, she responded, in her charming chain-smoker tones with "I don't need to know that. Date of birth of the child?"

An hour later, I still hadn't heard from a doctor, who was supposedly going to call me back within the next half hour. So I called again.

Me: Hi, I called about an hour ago about my son, Declan, and I still haven't heard from a doctor. He has a pretty high fever, and it's still spiking, so--

Chain-smoking Call Center Girl: Still don't need to know. Repeat your number for me, and I'll send the page out again.

Two hours later, after still not hearing anything, I called again.  Apparently enough time had elapsed that there was a shift change, because a fairly timid man picked up this time.  I explained my situation again, not bothering to hide my distaste for the great raspy wonder I'd spoken to earlier, to which he replied, with fear in his voice, "Oh, you spoke to Clarrise, didn't you?"

When the doctor finally did call me back, I took her casual tone as affirmation that Declan was probably going to live and my mind was finally a bit more at ease.

So, in six short months I feel I have graduated from the "seriously considering bubble wrapping my son" club, to the "eh, rub some ibuprofen on it. He's fine" crowd. Oh how times change.

And, for the record, Declan is feeling much better today. I'm glad we saved ourselves that emergency room bill this time.