My advance apologies to everyone who closely follows the entertainment industry. I don't watch television, (I rarely even turn it on,) so most of the "stars" of today are unknown to me. I rarely go to movies, don't usually read People magazine or EW, and don't particularly care about what people are doing in Hollywood.
I'm truly not an intellectual snob; that job is reserved for my son, Mr. Sandwich Himself. If keeping up on celebrity "news" is your hobby, then knock yourself out. I'm a big believer in the adage, "To each his own," and it looks like there are lot of you out there with the same hobby. (Although, to be fair, I will admit I don't exactly consider actresses and actors to be deep thinkers, and rarely take anything they say seriously.)
No, I'm not speaking from a platform of intellectual conservatism. The truth is much simpler. I really just don't care a whole lot what people are doing anywhere, unless it's actually my business. And hardly anything is, I have found. I could say a lot about people keeping their noses out of other people's lives at this point, but that's a different blog post, so I'll keep myself in check. (I am now glowing with self-righteousness for being so self-disciplined.)
Anyway, I stumbled over a delicious quote this week that really spoke to me, and I had to query her name to find out who she was, because I had never heard of her before. Turns out, she's an actress.
I don't know if she is vain or humble, empty headed or a Mensa candidate. I don't know if she is a good actress or a bad actress. (I have heard of her show from my daughter, an aficionado.) I have no idea what kind of character she has, or if she is big into community service or other ways of giving back to the world.
Surprisingly, however, I think she and I may have something in common. That is, if you think that the 89 pounds on my 5'9" frame the day I graduated from college is a problem. (I thought it was, but I'm guessing my reasons and yours are slightly divergent. Completely opposite, even.)
Anyway, Portia hit the nail on the head with a very perspicacious statement this week, upon which I simply could not resist expounding.
The statement in question was, "You can't put a size 8 foot into a size 6 shoe."
Simple? Yes. Obvious? Perhaps. But how many times in life have we tried to do exactly that? It's not just Cinderella's step-sisters that were desperate to be someone they weren't.
We are surrounded on all sides by the pressure to be someone else. It's not surprising that in the fantasy capital of the world, an actress would have a problem with her body image. After all, Hollywood is all about the illusion, regardless of the cost to real people - whether actress or fan - in self-esteem and life satisfaction.
Although Portia was talking about eating disorders, I find this statement to be a great metaphor for most things in life. If you are forcing yourself to fit someone else's image, you are, quite simply, doomed to failure. Underneath it all, no matter how hard you try to be someone else, you are still going to be you.
If you have a size 12 frame, you are never going to be a size 6, no matter how much you starve yourself, no matter how many hours a day you work out, no matter what you do or don't do. You will be a 12, it's just a matter of whether you are an emaciated 12 or a full figured 12.
If you are a global thinker, you will struggle in an accounting job where the details matter.
If you are a free spirit, you are going to struggle in a world that wants to pin you down.
It doesn't mean you can't do it; after all, Cinderella's step-sister cut off her toes to get that shoe on, and you could, too. (On a side note. Don't you sort of wonder what that would have looked like - the crystal glass shoe rapidly filling with deep red blood?) But that seems like a rather painful way to fit into something that is clearly wrong for you.
I think it's only fair to point out that she didn't end up with the prince in the end, either, so it's a cautionary tale.
I wish we lived in a world where differences were celebrated instead of denigrated. I would like to be part of a world where speaking different languages was only a barrier to conversation, not to understanding. I would like to be part of a world that valued teachers as much as stockbrokers, and maids as much as executives, because they were following their dream with passion and doing the job well.
For a long time I didn't have a scale in my house, because I refused to allow my vision of the perfect number that much control over my own self-esteem. Whether it's 89 or 129 or 409, that number doesn't change the person hiding inside, the real me. It doesn't define what makes me a good friend or bad, a good mother, sister, daughter, person. It is a superficial way to evaluate someone, especially one's self, and is a path doomed to failure, no matter how enticing it may be.
The consequences of imposing false expectations on ourselves or others can be life threatening. Karen Carpenter, one of my favorite singers ever, died for the illusion. So did Tyler Clementi, Ana Carolina Reston, and Christy Henrich. Although the dream they were reaching for was slightly different for each of them, the illusive win was rooted in the same desire to meet or exceed artificial expectations, reinforced by an unforgiving culture in which a narrow definition of perfection is not everything, it's the only thing that matters.
Much of life is simply beyond our control, but we do have the ability to set our expectations realistically. We can make our goals achievable, and we can intentionally disregard those who insist on bringing us down to some other vision of how we should be. Society focuses on the superficial exterior; how beautiful the glass slipper looks. Karen, Tyler, Ana, Christy, and hundreds of others like them, are a testament to the reality that it is also fragile and unreliable.
Although I occasionally enjoy wearing my high heels, most days, I'd rather wear tennis shoes, (usually a size too big in case my feet swell.) Glass slippers can break, and I would hate to get splinters in my foot.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Life is not a bowl of cherries. Except when it is....
I think cliches, like Christmas letters, have their place in this world, and it's an important one. After all, a statement doesn't become a cliche by accident. It's because so many people have so many similar experiences that after awhile, they start to say the same things, and voila, a cliche is born.
I have a whole arsenal of cliches, ready at any moment, which I can use with deadly accuracy to remind my family that they are not the first person to have ever done, thought, or felt any given experience. I think it's important to remember that when it comes to being human, we really do have more in common than not, even with people on the other side of the world.
Each culture has its own unique cliches which are used to express their common experiences. For example, a penny for your thoughts would not make any sense in Qatar, where they don't use pennies. But I'll bet they have something similar to show that the person asking values you enough to want to know what you are thinking. (Of course, a penny was worth a lot more back when this one came into being. These days, it's more of an insult, so use it sparingly.)
As a sidelight, isn't it interesting how we will give someone else a penny for their thoughts, but we want to give our own two cents worth? Does this indicate that most people feel what they have to say is twice as important as what anyone else has to offer? I think that is something worth asking ourselves whenever we give an unsolicited opinion.
(I suspect my own children wish I would take that advice more seriously. They seem to value my life experience a lot less highly than I do, for some reason. I guess they don't realize that practice makes perfect.)
Cliches come and go, of course. Don't take any wooden nickels isn't a line you hear often any more, although it was quite the catch phrase back in the early part of the 20th Century. And yet, the advice contained in the adage is solid gold - don't be gullible. That is advice that we need in every time, because there is always someone out to cheat you in this world.
An apple a day keeps the doctor away may sound trite to our sophisticated, modern ears, but in fact, it was a reminder that fruits and vegetables are the way to stay healthy. (Turns out those old people weren't so dumb after all.) It is more fun to keep the doctor away than to simply eat your fruits and vegetables, don't you think? The old fashioned food pyramid was not only more entertaining, it was a lot easier to remember.
As a parent, I have repeated ad nauseum (which means until my kids want to throw up or run away from home) the phrase, "Two wrongs don't make a right." This goes along beautifully with the idea that "People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones." Even in the Bible, cliches ring out with truth and clarity, "You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye." That is a fancy way of saying, fix your own flaws before you start working on someone else's! (That is Matthew 7:5, by the way.)
Mostly, it seems, cliches center on behavior or attitude, things you can control and change, if you really want to. Love is blind, actions speak louder than words, misery loves company, it takes two to tango, beauty is in the eye of the beholder; all are about the way we deal with the world around us, and what life throws our way.
So, fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. In that case, you need to shape up or ship out. After all, life is not a bowl of cherries. (Unless you bite into a pit and break your tooth. My own addition to the lexicon of cliche-speak.)
Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it. Of course, easy come, easy go, so perhaps you won't hang on to it, if you didn't work for it. In the end, what goes around, comes around, and you don't want to be on the wrong side of Karma.
I have heard it said that the Christmas letter itself is a cliche, and that no one cares about them any more. If that is true, then Hallmark has made a serious marketing mistake, and I don't think they have spent millions of dollars on market research to make mistakes. The holiday stationary is already flooding the stores, and the post office has printed their holiday stamps, which will go on millions of envelopes in an effort to connect in an old fashioned, tangible way with those we love and care about.
I think, in fact, most people do enjoy Christmas letters, well written or not, because, in spite of the ability to be constantly in touch with e-mail, texting, cell phones and IM, people are less connected today than ever. In our harried, hurried culture, we rarely take the time to share what matters to us, or to let people into our lives in a meaningful way. And in spite of the jokes and criticisms, most of us want to know both the good and the bad that have happened in the lives of those we care about.
I think that cliches, also, have a valued place in our personal dialogue. If you really pay attention to the cliches, you will have a useful handbook on living life well. You will certainly learn about the pitfalls in life, and to laugh at yourself when things go wrong. After all, laughter is the best medicine!
I have a whole arsenal of cliches, ready at any moment, which I can use with deadly accuracy to remind my family that they are not the first person to have ever done, thought, or felt any given experience. I think it's important to remember that when it comes to being human, we really do have more in common than not, even with people on the other side of the world.
Each culture has its own unique cliches which are used to express their common experiences. For example, a penny for your thoughts would not make any sense in Qatar, where they don't use pennies. But I'll bet they have something similar to show that the person asking values you enough to want to know what you are thinking. (Of course, a penny was worth a lot more back when this one came into being. These days, it's more of an insult, so use it sparingly.)
As a sidelight, isn't it interesting how we will give someone else a penny for their thoughts, but we want to give our own two cents worth? Does this indicate that most people feel what they have to say is twice as important as what anyone else has to offer? I think that is something worth asking ourselves whenever we give an unsolicited opinion.
(I suspect my own children wish I would take that advice more seriously. They seem to value my life experience a lot less highly than I do, for some reason. I guess they don't realize that practice makes perfect.)
Cliches come and go, of course. Don't take any wooden nickels isn't a line you hear often any more, although it was quite the catch phrase back in the early part of the 20th Century. And yet, the advice contained in the adage is solid gold - don't be gullible. That is advice that we need in every time, because there is always someone out to cheat you in this world.
An apple a day keeps the doctor away may sound trite to our sophisticated, modern ears, but in fact, it was a reminder that fruits and vegetables are the way to stay healthy. (Turns out those old people weren't so dumb after all.) It is more fun to keep the doctor away than to simply eat your fruits and vegetables, don't you think? The old fashioned food pyramid was not only more entertaining, it was a lot easier to remember.
As a parent, I have repeated ad nauseum (which means until my kids want to throw up or run away from home) the phrase, "Two wrongs don't make a right." This goes along beautifully with the idea that "People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones." Even in the Bible, cliches ring out with truth and clarity, "You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye." That is a fancy way of saying, fix your own flaws before you start working on someone else's! (That is Matthew 7:5, by the way.)
Mostly, it seems, cliches center on behavior or attitude, things you can control and change, if you really want to. Love is blind, actions speak louder than words, misery loves company, it takes two to tango, beauty is in the eye of the beholder; all are about the way we deal with the world around us, and what life throws our way.
So, fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. In that case, you need to shape up or ship out. After all, life is not a bowl of cherries. (Unless you bite into a pit and break your tooth. My own addition to the lexicon of cliche-speak.)
Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it. Of course, easy come, easy go, so perhaps you won't hang on to it, if you didn't work for it. In the end, what goes around, comes around, and you don't want to be on the wrong side of Karma.
I have heard it said that the Christmas letter itself is a cliche, and that no one cares about them any more. If that is true, then Hallmark has made a serious marketing mistake, and I don't think they have spent millions of dollars on market research to make mistakes. The holiday stationary is already flooding the stores, and the post office has printed their holiday stamps, which will go on millions of envelopes in an effort to connect in an old fashioned, tangible way with those we love and care about.
I think, in fact, most people do enjoy Christmas letters, well written or not, because, in spite of the ability to be constantly in touch with e-mail, texting, cell phones and IM, people are less connected today than ever. In our harried, hurried culture, we rarely take the time to share what matters to us, or to let people into our lives in a meaningful way. And in spite of the jokes and criticisms, most of us want to know both the good and the bad that have happened in the lives of those we care about.
I think that cliches, also, have a valued place in our personal dialogue. If you really pay attention to the cliches, you will have a useful handbook on living life well. You will certainly learn about the pitfalls in life, and to laugh at yourself when things go wrong. After all, laughter is the best medicine!
Saturday, October 16, 2010
House beautiful....
Humor is, in my world, as essential an element of life as air or food. Without laughter, life would be dull and miserable. Therefore, I try to find a reason to laugh about everything.
Some things aren't funny until much later, but eventually, almost everything is funny. Even divorce, which wasn't at all funny at the time, but I find my ex-husband hilarious now that I'm not related to him any more. Or cleaning house, which, from my point of view, is almost as bad. It is also something which I am seeing from the perspective of up close and personal these last few weeks.
I'm going to make a confession here, in case you don't know me well. For years, I have blamed my children for the shoddy condition of my home. It is not because I am an atrocious housekeeper - it is because I am a parent that I am so domestically challenged.
I have complained, often and loudly, that my offspring have never learned how to move a light switch to the off position, despite the ability to move it to on, even if they are just passing through. The television apparently only has an on switch, because it has never been turned off as long as they have been alive. They have never put anything away. Ever. They do not know where any wastebasket is located, despite wastebaskets being strategically placed throughout the house, including their own rooms.
How can I possibly keep a clean house with them following behind me to mess it right up again, I ask you? It's an impossible dream, and I don't have Richard Kiley around to sing about it. (If you don't know who he is, Google it, and you will have had your educational moment of the day. If you do know, feel superior that you are so smart, and find something else to learn today!)
So I gave it up as a lost cause a long time ago. As I have been fond of telling people, I can either have my children, or I can have a clean house, but I can't have both.
Fast forward about 15 years, (that is about the time I lost control of the whole situation,) and here we are, A-Day. Which stands for Alone in the House and No More Excuses Day. The baby left for college this fall, and I knew the moment of truth was upon me. Now we would see whether or not the source of the problem was them or me, and I was a little nervous about the answer.
Between wallowing in fear for a couple of weeks, followed by being so overwhelmed by the scope of the problem that I didn't know where to start for a couple more, I was sort of paralyzed by inaction the first month or so. Then I thought I would just pitch in and do one room at time, which, after spending an entire weekend on one small room, became apparent was not going to be a working solution.
Ultimately, I came up with the strategy which I've employed the last couple of weeks, and which has resulted in spectacular results. (There will be humor, I swear, but I am also passing along a cleaning tip or two here. This is a multi-purpose blog, providing both form and function for your reading pleasure. But seriously. Talk about shock and awe. This is it. Me offering cleaning advice is something none of us ever thought we would see!)
The magical answer for me has been to spend 15 minutes a day on cleaning. No more, no less, usually on my lunch hour, although 15 minutes after work is acceptable, too. In addition, I do one load of laundry a day, washing, drying, and putting away, which, with only one load, takes a total of about ten minutes of my time. I throw in the load first thing in the morning, I throw it into the dryer at lunch time, and I fold and put away after work. Simplicity itself, and I always seem to have whatever I want to wear, which is like having a whole new wardrobe at my disposal.
I have been amazed at how beautiful my house can look, when I spend only 15 minutes a day on it, and don't have anyone else coming behind to mess things up again!
The answer is in. It's not me! It really IS them! Thus, the humor. I love being right. Every time I walk through my house and see how put together it looks, my heart soars at the sheer pleasure of it all.
A bit much? Okay. But it is nice to not be embarrassed to have someone come unexpectedly to the door, at least.
So the next time you look around your house and you feel like giving up, take heart. At the most, you have 18 years until you, too, can have house beautiful. Or at least house the way you always wanted it! And in my world, that's all I need.
Wishing you a clean week!
Some things aren't funny until much later, but eventually, almost everything is funny. Even divorce, which wasn't at all funny at the time, but I find my ex-husband hilarious now that I'm not related to him any more. Or cleaning house, which, from my point of view, is almost as bad. It is also something which I am seeing from the perspective of up close and personal these last few weeks.
I'm going to make a confession here, in case you don't know me well. For years, I have blamed my children for the shoddy condition of my home. It is not because I am an atrocious housekeeper - it is because I am a parent that I am so domestically challenged.
I have complained, often and loudly, that my offspring have never learned how to move a light switch to the off position, despite the ability to move it to on, even if they are just passing through. The television apparently only has an on switch, because it has never been turned off as long as they have been alive. They have never put anything away. Ever. They do not know where any wastebasket is located, despite wastebaskets being strategically placed throughout the house, including their own rooms.
How can I possibly keep a clean house with them following behind me to mess it right up again, I ask you? It's an impossible dream, and I don't have Richard Kiley around to sing about it. (If you don't know who he is, Google it, and you will have had your educational moment of the day. If you do know, feel superior that you are so smart, and find something else to learn today!)
So I gave it up as a lost cause a long time ago. As I have been fond of telling people, I can either have my children, or I can have a clean house, but I can't have both.
Fast forward about 15 years, (that is about the time I lost control of the whole situation,) and here we are, A-Day. Which stands for Alone in the House and No More Excuses Day. The baby left for college this fall, and I knew the moment of truth was upon me. Now we would see whether or not the source of the problem was them or me, and I was a little nervous about the answer.
Between wallowing in fear for a couple of weeks, followed by being so overwhelmed by the scope of the problem that I didn't know where to start for a couple more, I was sort of paralyzed by inaction the first month or so. Then I thought I would just pitch in and do one room at time, which, after spending an entire weekend on one small room, became apparent was not going to be a working solution.
Ultimately, I came up with the strategy which I've employed the last couple of weeks, and which has resulted in spectacular results. (There will be humor, I swear, but I am also passing along a cleaning tip or two here. This is a multi-purpose blog, providing both form and function for your reading pleasure. But seriously. Talk about shock and awe. This is it. Me offering cleaning advice is something none of us ever thought we would see!)
The magical answer for me has been to spend 15 minutes a day on cleaning. No more, no less, usually on my lunch hour, although 15 minutes after work is acceptable, too. In addition, I do one load of laundry a day, washing, drying, and putting away, which, with only one load, takes a total of about ten minutes of my time. I throw in the load first thing in the morning, I throw it into the dryer at lunch time, and I fold and put away after work. Simplicity itself, and I always seem to have whatever I want to wear, which is like having a whole new wardrobe at my disposal.
I have been amazed at how beautiful my house can look, when I spend only 15 minutes a day on it, and don't have anyone else coming behind to mess things up again!
The answer is in. It's not me! It really IS them! Thus, the humor. I love being right. Every time I walk through my house and see how put together it looks, my heart soars at the sheer pleasure of it all.
A bit much? Okay. But it is nice to not be embarrassed to have someone come unexpectedly to the door, at least.
So the next time you look around your house and you feel like giving up, take heart. At the most, you have 18 years until you, too, can have house beautiful. Or at least house the way you always wanted it! And in my world, that's all I need.
Wishing you a clean week!
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Princess, child of God....
My post this week is a foray into the controversial, which I generally try to avoid. I am not a controversial person, and I don't seek out arguments. But I wanted to share my thoughts with my friends on something I experienced, and that I would love for everyone else to experience as well. So, here goes.
Last week I watched a video that came with a powerful message, and it sincerely moved me. The video itself, a product of the pro-life movement, put a face on abortion - a genuine, human face, a living, breathing, walking, articulate woman who was a survivor of an attempted saline abortion when she was a seven month old fetus. She is passionate about her life and her story, but in a very simple, straightforward way that makes her easy to listen to, and which only serves to humanize her further.
She is, quite simply, like me, and it was very easy for me to relate to her. She was born to a teenaged mother who didn't want her, she was adopted by a family that has nurtured and loved her deeply, and she has grown up to be an articulate, strong, vital person in spite of her early difficulties. She could be me, and I could be her, and she spoke directly to my heart on a topic that is very difficult for me to reconcile within myself.
I am one of those people in the very murky middle of the abortion debate. For me, Gianna Jessen lives as a necessary reminder that the fetus that some so casually dismiss is, in fact, a human being, destined to have thoughts, emotions, and a life just like mine. Whatever you feel about abortion, I think it is necessary to understand the true impact of it - a life snuffed out before it's time.
I do not want to start an abortion debate among the people I know, or amongst those who stumble over this post. Like most people, I believe there is a time for it, but it should be rare and truly necessary.
But I also strongly believe that we should make informed choices about everything we do. If you believe abortion is a choice, you should know what that choice really entails. If you believe abortion is never a choice, you should also know what the consequences of that decision might be.
I am tired of the abortion debate being fought by the extreme poles, with their all or nothing attitudes, and an unwillingness to accept that sometimes we live life in shades of gray. I would like to see the discussion moved towards the center, where the overwhelming proportion of the population stands, so that we can talk rationally about when and how and if abortion is a reasonable option. I would like to see the fiery speeches and the dramatic protests replaced by serious conversation about the impact on the lives of the people involved, and that includes the life that is lost in the process.
I had this discussion with my son recently, and he dismissed my ideals as impractical. He pointed out that as soon as either side gives a little, the other side takes it and keeps pushing for more, in a sort of macabre tug-of-war over a life and death issue.
To me, that is the problem. It is a serious issue, and deserves a serious, carefully considered response, not the canned and scripted sound bite statements of the extreme adherents of either side.
Protesting with pictures of dead fetuses on the side of the street or putting up thousands of little white crosses on a church lawn doesn't really address the needs of the women involved, nor does it persuade those who believe in the right to abortion to change their minds.
On the flip side, insisting that any woman has a right to an abortion at any time for any reason, without regard for the life that is being lost is an untenable position for anyone who values human life. It isn't going to persuade anyone of the justice of their position, and they lose support even from those who concede that there are times when abortion may be the best of the bad answers in a given situation.
When I make a difficult decision, it is important to me that I look at it from all sides, and consider every single angle, to be sure that I am making the most informed decision possible. I believe that is the only reasonable way to ensure that I am going to be able to live with the outcome for the long term.
I would hope that at some point we can shut down the extremes, not only on this issue, but on every critical issue facing the citizens of this country, and allow for some reasoned discussion by those of us in the majority who sit somewhere in the uncomfortable middle. When I was little, my mom used to tell me that there was a time and a place for everything. It is long past the time to come to a reasonable agreement that most women, in conjunction with their physician, should be in control of the ultimate decision, with strict, common sense limitations on when, how, and why it is an appropriate option. But in making that decision, I think it is also reasonable to ask that they understand exactly what that decision entails, and accept the true consequences of the action they are taking.
Both sides appear to be afraid of the power that comes with knowledge and education, and in my opinion, that makes us all losers. If you want to be educated on the issue of abortion, I would encourage you to google the name of Gianna Jessen, and watch her presentation that is available on You Tube. She tells her story in a very clear and simple way, and it is very powerful. And then google the stories of women whose lives have been saved because of the ability to safely and legally end the pregnancy that threatened them. Look at both sides, because only then can you truly understand the impact of your personal beliefs.
Gianna refers to herself as a princess, child of God. That belief gives her the courage and the power to tell her story, so that we all might be more aware and informed on this issue. I believe that she lived for a reason, and I believe that she is fulfilling it by sharing her life with the world. Don't be afraid of a princess - embrace the opportunity to see true royalty at work.
Wishing you a thought filled week.
Last week I watched a video that came with a powerful message, and it sincerely moved me. The video itself, a product of the pro-life movement, put a face on abortion - a genuine, human face, a living, breathing, walking, articulate woman who was a survivor of an attempted saline abortion when she was a seven month old fetus. She is passionate about her life and her story, but in a very simple, straightforward way that makes her easy to listen to, and which only serves to humanize her further.
She is, quite simply, like me, and it was very easy for me to relate to her. She was born to a teenaged mother who didn't want her, she was adopted by a family that has nurtured and loved her deeply, and she has grown up to be an articulate, strong, vital person in spite of her early difficulties. She could be me, and I could be her, and she spoke directly to my heart on a topic that is very difficult for me to reconcile within myself.
I am one of those people in the very murky middle of the abortion debate. For me, Gianna Jessen lives as a necessary reminder that the fetus that some so casually dismiss is, in fact, a human being, destined to have thoughts, emotions, and a life just like mine. Whatever you feel about abortion, I think it is necessary to understand the true impact of it - a life snuffed out before it's time.
I do not want to start an abortion debate among the people I know, or amongst those who stumble over this post. Like most people, I believe there is a time for it, but it should be rare and truly necessary.
But I also strongly believe that we should make informed choices about everything we do. If you believe abortion is a choice, you should know what that choice really entails. If you believe abortion is never a choice, you should also know what the consequences of that decision might be.
I am tired of the abortion debate being fought by the extreme poles, with their all or nothing attitudes, and an unwillingness to accept that sometimes we live life in shades of gray. I would like to see the discussion moved towards the center, where the overwhelming proportion of the population stands, so that we can talk rationally about when and how and if abortion is a reasonable option. I would like to see the fiery speeches and the dramatic protests replaced by serious conversation about the impact on the lives of the people involved, and that includes the life that is lost in the process.
I had this discussion with my son recently, and he dismissed my ideals as impractical. He pointed out that as soon as either side gives a little, the other side takes it and keeps pushing for more, in a sort of macabre tug-of-war over a life and death issue.
To me, that is the problem. It is a serious issue, and deserves a serious, carefully considered response, not the canned and scripted sound bite statements of the extreme adherents of either side.
Protesting with pictures of dead fetuses on the side of the street or putting up thousands of little white crosses on a church lawn doesn't really address the needs of the women involved, nor does it persuade those who believe in the right to abortion to change their minds.
On the flip side, insisting that any woman has a right to an abortion at any time for any reason, without regard for the life that is being lost is an untenable position for anyone who values human life. It isn't going to persuade anyone of the justice of their position, and they lose support even from those who concede that there are times when abortion may be the best of the bad answers in a given situation.
When I make a difficult decision, it is important to me that I look at it from all sides, and consider every single angle, to be sure that I am making the most informed decision possible. I believe that is the only reasonable way to ensure that I am going to be able to live with the outcome for the long term.
I would hope that at some point we can shut down the extremes, not only on this issue, but on every critical issue facing the citizens of this country, and allow for some reasoned discussion by those of us in the majority who sit somewhere in the uncomfortable middle. When I was little, my mom used to tell me that there was a time and a place for everything. It is long past the time to come to a reasonable agreement that most women, in conjunction with their physician, should be in control of the ultimate decision, with strict, common sense limitations on when, how, and why it is an appropriate option. But in making that decision, I think it is also reasonable to ask that they understand exactly what that decision entails, and accept the true consequences of the action they are taking.
Both sides appear to be afraid of the power that comes with knowledge and education, and in my opinion, that makes us all losers. If you want to be educated on the issue of abortion, I would encourage you to google the name of Gianna Jessen, and watch her presentation that is available on You Tube. She tells her story in a very clear and simple way, and it is very powerful. And then google the stories of women whose lives have been saved because of the ability to safely and legally end the pregnancy that threatened them. Look at both sides, because only then can you truly understand the impact of your personal beliefs.
Gianna refers to herself as a princess, child of God. That belief gives her the courage and the power to tell her story, so that we all might be more aware and informed on this issue. I believe that she lived for a reason, and I believe that she is fulfilling it by sharing her life with the world. Don't be afraid of a princess - embrace the opportunity to see true royalty at work.
Wishing you a thought filled week.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Well done, good and faithful servant....
This summer was hard for my extended family, as we lost two beloved uncles in the space of a couple of months. It reminds us all that time is passing too quickly, and we are truly just a tiny speck in the eye of the universe.
This past week, I too, passed into a new phase of life, middle age, as I reached a birthday milestone that makes clear I am no longer the youth that I was just yesterday. I am now, undeniably, what my son so charmingly refers to as a "real adult."
It is impossible, given the events of the last couple of months, not to at least briefly consider what will be said about me when my grieving friends and relatives are gathered around the urn. I don't dwell on it, but I occasionally wonder how I will be remembered, and what people will think of when my name is mentioned in conversation.
In every sense of the word, how you are remembered is your legacy to the world. Money is fleeting, but your reputation not only precedes you, it lives far beyond you as your descendants, even generations later, want to hear about your life and know who you were.
My Uncle Bud was a humble man. He was full of life and laughter and fun. He had simple tastes and simple needs. He was even tempered, and very hard working. He never drew attention to himself, and didn't need the accolades of the world at large to feel his life was fully lived.
The people gathered to honor his life were, I would imagine, most of the people he cared about that remain in this world. The tears that fell were all too real, and the love that pulled us together in that church was genuine and heartfelt. There is no famous person, no celebrity, that is missed more honestly than my uncle Bud, whose loss we will feel until we join him in our own eternal rest.
At his funeral, there was a lot of laughter as we recalled the funny anecdotes that reminded us of the man he was, and why we all loved him so much. But as I listened to everyone reminiscing, I realized that if I had to choose a single word to describe my uncle, I would choose the word faithful.
Bud was, first and foremost, faithful to who he was - a simple man with a straight forward goal to be there for his family at all times and in all ways, no matter what it took. I never had a moment's doubt that if I called on him, he would be there for me in whatever way I needed him. There was no facade with Bud - he was exactly who he appeared to be, a quietly spectacular guy.
When they hear the word simple, many people feel that it is an insult, as though being complicated is somehow a virtue. I feel the opposite. I mean it as a great compliment, because to me, it means you are the person you appear to be, open, honest, and straight forward with the world. That was my Uncle Bud, to his very last day.
My uncle Bud was also faithful to his family. He worked for many years on a job that may not have been thrilling in order to provide for a stable home and family life for his wife and children. His hard and faithful work provided them with not only a house, but opportunities to travel and explore the world in ways that few people have ever experienced, all with a positive attitude and gratitude for what he had been given. I have no doubt at all that he gave 100% on the job at all times, and that he was a terrific employee, because he knew why he was there, and he had a higher purpose.
Bud was faithful to his God and Savior, as well. He attended church every Sunday for most of his life. He was an usher and a quiet role model for many kids growing up in the church, one of whom, now a pastor, spoke quite eloquently at his funeral in fond remembrance. He was quietly faithful, a servant of his Lord in the best sense of the word, one who walked the life instead of just talking about it.
God gave Bud a capacity to see humor in every situation, and he always found a reason to laugh, no matter what was happening. I rarely saw him lose his temper, even when sorely pushed. When Bud wasn't laughing, it was time to shape up, because he laughed at everything all the time. Even as dementia stole most of who he was to us, his laughter remained the hallmark of his personality, and it is that God-given ability to see humor in every situation that those who loved him will miss the most.
Bud was also faithful to his country, serving in World War II in the Pacific in the navy. He rarely talked about his experiences, but when the uncles got together, it was always interesting to sit on the sidelines and listen to their stories. They were not a generation to moan and groan about what they had been through, and they didn't. They found the humor and laughed about their hardships together, and quietly reminded us why we call them The Greatest Generation.
One of the things Bud was best known for was his nicknames that he gave the people that he loved. When you had a nickname, you knew you were in his heart. He was always creative with his nicknames, and he had a way of making you feel special, even though it wouldn't have been a compliment from anyone else. When we all remembered our nicknames, it was with much laughter, as we talked about how each one came to be.
I love and miss you, Buddy Boy. I am grateful that I was a part of your life, and that you were in my world. You remain one of my strongest role models for living life well, and I miss hearing you say, "I don't care what anyone says, you're all right in my book." These words are so inadequate, but I wanted the world to know a little more about you, because I am so proud of who you were.
If I am remembered with as much fondness and laughter and affection as my Uncle Bud, then I too, will have lived well. We are told that heaven will have everything we need for all eternity. In that case, I see my dad and my uncles Harris and Bud on a lake in a small boat, catching fish and laughing and telling stories, and happy to be together again.
My uncle Bud didn't go out in a blaze of glory. That was never his style. Instead, he slowly faded away, quietly and without fanfare, just as he lived his life. But in the end, those of us who were at his funeral remembered someone that was uniquely wonderful, special to each of us in our memories of him. I can only imagine Bud approaching his heavenly future, and God greeting him with the words we all long to hear, "Well done, good and faithful Servant. Welcome home."
I love and miss you, Bud.
Watergate
This past week, I too, passed into a new phase of life, middle age, as I reached a birthday milestone that makes clear I am no longer the youth that I was just yesterday. I am now, undeniably, what my son so charmingly refers to as a "real adult."
It is impossible, given the events of the last couple of months, not to at least briefly consider what will be said about me when my grieving friends and relatives are gathered around the urn. I don't dwell on it, but I occasionally wonder how I will be remembered, and what people will think of when my name is mentioned in conversation.
In every sense of the word, how you are remembered is your legacy to the world. Money is fleeting, but your reputation not only precedes you, it lives far beyond you as your descendants, even generations later, want to hear about your life and know who you were.
My Uncle Bud was a humble man. He was full of life and laughter and fun. He had simple tastes and simple needs. He was even tempered, and very hard working. He never drew attention to himself, and didn't need the accolades of the world at large to feel his life was fully lived.
The people gathered to honor his life were, I would imagine, most of the people he cared about that remain in this world. The tears that fell were all too real, and the love that pulled us together in that church was genuine and heartfelt. There is no famous person, no celebrity, that is missed more honestly than my uncle Bud, whose loss we will feel until we join him in our own eternal rest.
At his funeral, there was a lot of laughter as we recalled the funny anecdotes that reminded us of the man he was, and why we all loved him so much. But as I listened to everyone reminiscing, I realized that if I had to choose a single word to describe my uncle, I would choose the word faithful.
Bud was, first and foremost, faithful to who he was - a simple man with a straight forward goal to be there for his family at all times and in all ways, no matter what it took. I never had a moment's doubt that if I called on him, he would be there for me in whatever way I needed him. There was no facade with Bud - he was exactly who he appeared to be, a quietly spectacular guy.
When they hear the word simple, many people feel that it is an insult, as though being complicated is somehow a virtue. I feel the opposite. I mean it as a great compliment, because to me, it means you are the person you appear to be, open, honest, and straight forward with the world. That was my Uncle Bud, to his very last day.
My uncle Bud was also faithful to his family. He worked for many years on a job that may not have been thrilling in order to provide for a stable home and family life for his wife and children. His hard and faithful work provided them with not only a house, but opportunities to travel and explore the world in ways that few people have ever experienced, all with a positive attitude and gratitude for what he had been given. I have no doubt at all that he gave 100% on the job at all times, and that he was a terrific employee, because he knew why he was there, and he had a higher purpose.
Bud was faithful to his God and Savior, as well. He attended church every Sunday for most of his life. He was an usher and a quiet role model for many kids growing up in the church, one of whom, now a pastor, spoke quite eloquently at his funeral in fond remembrance. He was quietly faithful, a servant of his Lord in the best sense of the word, one who walked the life instead of just talking about it.
God gave Bud a capacity to see humor in every situation, and he always found a reason to laugh, no matter what was happening. I rarely saw him lose his temper, even when sorely pushed. When Bud wasn't laughing, it was time to shape up, because he laughed at everything all the time. Even as dementia stole most of who he was to us, his laughter remained the hallmark of his personality, and it is that God-given ability to see humor in every situation that those who loved him will miss the most.
Bud was also faithful to his country, serving in World War II in the Pacific in the navy. He rarely talked about his experiences, but when the uncles got together, it was always interesting to sit on the sidelines and listen to their stories. They were not a generation to moan and groan about what they had been through, and they didn't. They found the humor and laughed about their hardships together, and quietly reminded us why we call them The Greatest Generation.
One of the things Bud was best known for was his nicknames that he gave the people that he loved. When you had a nickname, you knew you were in his heart. He was always creative with his nicknames, and he had a way of making you feel special, even though it wouldn't have been a compliment from anyone else. When we all remembered our nicknames, it was with much laughter, as we talked about how each one came to be.
I love and miss you, Buddy Boy. I am grateful that I was a part of your life, and that you were in my world. You remain one of my strongest role models for living life well, and I miss hearing you say, "I don't care what anyone says, you're all right in my book." These words are so inadequate, but I wanted the world to know a little more about you, because I am so proud of who you were.
If I am remembered with as much fondness and laughter and affection as my Uncle Bud, then I too, will have lived well. We are told that heaven will have everything we need for all eternity. In that case, I see my dad and my uncles Harris and Bud on a lake in a small boat, catching fish and laughing and telling stories, and happy to be together again.
My uncle Bud didn't go out in a blaze of glory. That was never his style. Instead, he slowly faded away, quietly and without fanfare, just as he lived his life. But in the end, those of us who were at his funeral remembered someone that was uniquely wonderful, special to each of us in our memories of him. I can only imagine Bud approaching his heavenly future, and God greeting him with the words we all long to hear, "Well done, good and faithful Servant. Welcome home."
I love and miss you, Bud.
Watergate
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