Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Adult Confirmation
I just completed a class offered at my new church and run by our Pastor, Pete. Five of us met once or twice a month over the last six months or so and discussed God, Jesus, the bible, the history of the Christian religion, the structure of our services, discipleship and community to name a few. Last night we had our final discussion at a cozy little Italian restaurant. We drank delicious red wine, ate an amazing meal, chatted and finally, we each read a one pager we had written on what we got out of the class. I went last and here is what I read:
When I started this class I thought I might try to figure out whether or not I believed in God. My thinking was that belief and understanding went hand in hand and were a prerequisite for truly belonging in a religion. I have always liked the idea of having a religion. I think it felt to me like it would be a structure or a framework that would always be there, unyielding and strong to hold me up against whatever tragedy might blow me over in the future. But as the class went on I realized that this might not be the best path for me to follow. Do I believe in an omnipotent, omniscient, benevolent being? Is there a God? The more I contemplated it the more confused I became until I finally heard the one thing I realized I had been waiting to hear: it is okay not to understand God because we are only human and God is that profound. This was new to me. The idea that God isn’t something pre-existing that I just never learned about, but that God is actually something I would have to define for myself. Of course, when you think about it it makes sense. As I began pondering that, it became obvious I could never understand it. I think the most profound moment for me came when Pastor Pete said that all our ideas of God are always wrong. Duh. How could we possibly understand God? By my own definition of God, he is not able to be understood. And, for some reason, this class made me okay with that. I began to realize that religion is simply a way of putting God in to tangible terms that a human being might be able to comprehend, work with and learn from. I also became aware that I had an understanding of religion based on prejudice, a cursory knowledge of history, but mostly ignorance. I thought of Christians as haughty, self-important, “righteous” people who were mostly imperialist conquerors who felt they had a mandate from God to rule the world. Perhaps this is even true, but there is a deeper understanding of being Christian that I had missed. Being Christian means being brave. It means standing up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. It means following a path that leads to harmony and peace, not war. As we began to learn about and discuss the evolution of Christianity and the bible through the ages I learned something more important than understanding God, understanding what God is for: the power to transform. Yes there is much suffering in life. I do not know why God allows it, but the question is, what can I do about it? What can God help me do about it? This class has inspired me to be a better person because it is possible and because it is important. This class has allowed me to believe in God with out understanding what that is. I can not think of a greater gift or a greater reason to contribute to the fulfillment of God’s kingdom.
Thank you,
Wendy
When I started this class I thought I might try to figure out whether or not I believed in God. My thinking was that belief and understanding went hand in hand and were a prerequisite for truly belonging in a religion. I have always liked the idea of having a religion. I think it felt to me like it would be a structure or a framework that would always be there, unyielding and strong to hold me up against whatever tragedy might blow me over in the future. But as the class went on I realized that this might not be the best path for me to follow. Do I believe in an omnipotent, omniscient, benevolent being? Is there a God? The more I contemplated it the more confused I became until I finally heard the one thing I realized I had been waiting to hear: it is okay not to understand God because we are only human and God is that profound. This was new to me. The idea that God isn’t something pre-existing that I just never learned about, but that God is actually something I would have to define for myself. Of course, when you think about it it makes sense. As I began pondering that, it became obvious I could never understand it. I think the most profound moment for me came when Pastor Pete said that all our ideas of God are always wrong. Duh. How could we possibly understand God? By my own definition of God, he is not able to be understood. And, for some reason, this class made me okay with that. I began to realize that religion is simply a way of putting God in to tangible terms that a human being might be able to comprehend, work with and learn from. I also became aware that I had an understanding of religion based on prejudice, a cursory knowledge of history, but mostly ignorance. I thought of Christians as haughty, self-important, “righteous” people who were mostly imperialist conquerors who felt they had a mandate from God to rule the world. Perhaps this is even true, but there is a deeper understanding of being Christian that I had missed. Being Christian means being brave. It means standing up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. It means following a path that leads to harmony and peace, not war. As we began to learn about and discuss the evolution of Christianity and the bible through the ages I learned something more important than understanding God, understanding what God is for: the power to transform. Yes there is much suffering in life. I do not know why God allows it, but the question is, what can I do about it? What can God help me do about it? This class has inspired me to be a better person because it is possible and because it is important. This class has allowed me to believe in God with out understanding what that is. I can not think of a greater gift or a greater reason to contribute to the fulfillment of God’s kingdom.
Thank you,
Wendy
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
Life is Hard
My child is six years old now. I don't know how this happened. He is an independent being with his own thoughts, likes, moods, colors and imprint on this world. It amazes me to watch and humbles me that I have so much influence over who he becomes. We got him a bike for his birthday. His favorite color: green. It is a beauty with sturdy training wheels, and we proudly purchased it from our local bicycle shop instead of Walmart. We spent twice as much as we should have but walked out feeling we had done our part for the economy, the local guy!
And he hates it. First time on, he immediately fell, terrified, looking at me like I am some sort of maniac for making him get on this dangerous contraption. Tears, meltdown. Second time on, trembling, wobbly, total frustration because the pedals are too hard to push, and especially because the lack of coordination means pushing backwards on them at least half the time, engaging the breaks. More tears. Third time on was pulling teeth. Only accomplished through bribery involving both chocolate and extra TV time. Same results, meltdown, tears, and a feeling of betrayal: Why am I doing this to him? It is so HARD! Um... Because it is fun! No it's not. Because it will be fun when you learn and it becomes easy and you gain independence! But I don't want to!
I don't want to say this was never a problem for me. I am sure somewhere along the way I encountered some seemingly impossible task that others wanted me to undertake for which I saw no virtue. These things happen, occasionally. But it gets to me. I can't help but boil under the surface with frustration, which leads to anger, which is definitely NOT the space to be in when trying to teach your kid to ride a bike. I stopped myself from saying no pain, no gain, but COME ON!!! Dude, life is HARD! Don't you know that yet? I learned to ride my bike with ONE LEG! Falling down never deterred me from anything! I was never just automatically good at anything! I remember wanting to learn how to shoot a basketball. It took me YEARS to get even close! But I never stopped trying. I have no idea why. I don't even like basketball. I just saw that other people could do it and I knew it was possible and I just wanted to be able to make it in... SOMETIMES!
I should not be surprised. This is nothing new with Little J. There are other recreational activities his fear has won over his desire to learn: swimming, ladders, fireman's poles, rope swings, sledding. He has a good healthy sense of danger. I should be happy. But I can't make myself come around, on principle. I think he thinks it should be easy. He doesn't want to try. Why should he? TV is easy. Video games are easy. No matter how many times Scooby-Doo narowly escapes the zombies, at the end of the show, there is a bad guy in cuffs and a torn zombie disguise on the ground. This infuriates me, mostly because I am not really interested in instilling a first hand sense of the hardness of life, so I am at a loss.
The children's sermon at church yesterday was timely. It was the story of Rick Allen, the drummer from Def Leppard. He was at the top of his game when he lost his left arm in an accident. He worked with a manufacturer to develop a drum kit for a one armed, two legged drummer, learned how to play it and continued his career as if nothing happened. Of course, the story is irrelevant to this situation for two reasons. First, as the passive listener, you come away feeling that sure, it might have been kind of hard for him, but not THAT hard. Afterall, he did do it. There just isn't any way to transfer that kind of experience using only language. Second, Little J is six years old. Let me illustrate:
After church I casually asked Little J what he thought of the story. He said the drummer must have turned in to some sort of zombie because he lost his arm and you can't live if you lose a body part, so he must be a zombie now. Too bad for him. Um... what about me then, am I a zombie? No, you're a Mommy! Um, yeah... Like I said, doesn't translate. But apparently Scooby-Doo does!
I've got my work cut out for me...
And he hates it. First time on, he immediately fell, terrified, looking at me like I am some sort of maniac for making him get on this dangerous contraption. Tears, meltdown. Second time on, trembling, wobbly, total frustration because the pedals are too hard to push, and especially because the lack of coordination means pushing backwards on them at least half the time, engaging the breaks. More tears. Third time on was pulling teeth. Only accomplished through bribery involving both chocolate and extra TV time. Same results, meltdown, tears, and a feeling of betrayal: Why am I doing this to him? It is so HARD! Um... Because it is fun! No it's not. Because it will be fun when you learn and it becomes easy and you gain independence! But I don't want to!
I don't want to say this was never a problem for me. I am sure somewhere along the way I encountered some seemingly impossible task that others wanted me to undertake for which I saw no virtue. These things happen, occasionally. But it gets to me. I can't help but boil under the surface with frustration, which leads to anger, which is definitely NOT the space to be in when trying to teach your kid to ride a bike. I stopped myself from saying no pain, no gain, but COME ON!!! Dude, life is HARD! Don't you know that yet? I learned to ride my bike with ONE LEG! Falling down never deterred me from anything! I was never just automatically good at anything! I remember wanting to learn how to shoot a basketball. It took me YEARS to get even close! But I never stopped trying. I have no idea why. I don't even like basketball. I just saw that other people could do it and I knew it was possible and I just wanted to be able to make it in... SOMETIMES!
I should not be surprised. This is nothing new with Little J. There are other recreational activities his fear has won over his desire to learn: swimming, ladders, fireman's poles, rope swings, sledding. He has a good healthy sense of danger. I should be happy. But I can't make myself come around, on principle. I think he thinks it should be easy. He doesn't want to try. Why should he? TV is easy. Video games are easy. No matter how many times Scooby-Doo narowly escapes the zombies, at the end of the show, there is a bad guy in cuffs and a torn zombie disguise on the ground. This infuriates me, mostly because I am not really interested in instilling a first hand sense of the hardness of life, so I am at a loss.
The children's sermon at church yesterday was timely. It was the story of Rick Allen, the drummer from Def Leppard. He was at the top of his game when he lost his left arm in an accident. He worked with a manufacturer to develop a drum kit for a one armed, two legged drummer, learned how to play it and continued his career as if nothing happened. Of course, the story is irrelevant to this situation for two reasons. First, as the passive listener, you come away feeling that sure, it might have been kind of hard for him, but not THAT hard. Afterall, he did do it. There just isn't any way to transfer that kind of experience using only language. Second, Little J is six years old. Let me illustrate:
After church I casually asked Little J what he thought of the story. He said the drummer must have turned in to some sort of zombie because he lost his arm and you can't live if you lose a body part, so he must be a zombie now. Too bad for him. Um... what about me then, am I a zombie? No, you're a Mommy! Um, yeah... Like I said, doesn't translate. But apparently Scooby-Doo does!
I've got my work cut out for me...
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Little J Makes Sense of Genetics
My sister and I are trying to get my car out of her driveway. It is stuck at the bottom, as the driveway is paved in ice. Multiple attemps have been made, resulting primarily in an oder of burning rubber and a net movement of 2 feet. Backward.
Little J to his cousin M:
I think your Mommy and my Mommy are sisters because they keep laughing.
Brilliant.
If only the two of us could remember that more often.
Little J to his cousin M:
I think your Mommy and my Mommy are sisters because they keep laughing.
Brilliant.
If only the two of us could remember that more often.
A Typical Conversation with My Car
me:
PRND321
car:
beep STOP! beep STOP! beep STOP! beep STOP! beep STOP!
me:
40 MPH, 44 MPH, 50 MPH
car:
beep EMISSIONS WORKSHOP! beep CHECK ENGINE
me:
NO RIGHT TURN
car:
ABS [!]
me:
EXIT 8
car:
ASR [!]
beep BRAKE FAULT
me:
65 MPH
car:
STOP! BRAKE FAULT STOP! BRAKE FAULT STOP!
me:
Cruise control
car:
33 F 13 Min
me:
[sigh]
car:
beep EMISSIONS WORKSHOP! beep CHECK ENGINE beep EMISSIONS WORKSHOP beep CHECK ENGINE
STOP!
me:
Fuck you! [turns radio on full blast]
PRND321
car:
beep STOP! beep STOP! beep STOP! beep STOP! beep STOP!
me:
40 MPH, 44 MPH, 50 MPH
car:
beep EMISSIONS WORKSHOP! beep CHECK ENGINE
me:
NO RIGHT TURN
car:
ABS [!]
me:
EXIT 8
car:
ASR [!]
beep BRAKE FAULT
me:
65 MPH
car:
STOP! BRAKE FAULT STOP! BRAKE FAULT STOP!
me:
Cruise control
car:
33 F 13 Min
me:
[sigh]
car:
beep EMISSIONS WORKSHOP! beep CHECK ENGINE beep EMISSIONS WORKSHOP beep CHECK ENGINE
STOP!
me:
Fuck you! [turns radio on full blast]
Monday, January 12, 2009
Voluntary or Involuntary Suicide, it’s your choice! (a memo from my boss)
Over the past months I know many of you have been aware of the weakening and inevitable failure of the life-breath of the universe.
Of course I hate to be the bearer of such terrible news but I know you will understand that I must save myself.
Already there have been several parts of my conscience that have left me entirely due to the necessary severances from which I recoil.
However, in order to ensure that my personal satisfaction is in line with the needs of my appetites,
and because it has been brought to my attention that our models are no longer in line with the storage capacity of the requisite thousands of basements, boneyards, freezers and underground lairs required (and so unfortunately necessary) in order to keep my very own cavernous house of emptiness from overflowing with severed heads, you understand,
I am pleased to have seized the opportunity to both implement and announce to you an acronym I made up myself, which is sure to become famous, called the VRMMIP (Voluntary Relief for Me and Mine Insurance Program).
There will be two rounds of this program, which you may hear being referred to as the Voluntary Suicide or Voluntary Self-Decapitation Program by some of my kiss-ass minions, who also may be eligible for this program depending on the quality of their self-deprecating performance.
The second round, to be announced at an undisclosed time, will be the i-VRMMIP or Involuntary Suicide Program, the details of which, obviously can not and will not be divulged until the time has come, by which time you will no longer need to strain your inadequate intellect to comprehend its’ very complex details.
If you choose to take advantage of my generous offer, the VRMMIP, understand that you will be eligible for ENHANCED suicide in addition to the benefit of escaping the shame of having someone else sever your less than optimally productive head unexpectedly.
Of course you know, reducing head count is a step I don’t take lightly.
I appreciate your loyalty in the coming days, months, who knows? maybe years between now and when the final axe will fall.
As anyone in our business knows, loyalty is the main difference between you and me.
Please, feel free to scream in to the night waiting for an answer which will not come.
Sincerely,
Your Chief Severance Officer
Of course I hate to be the bearer of such terrible news but I know you will understand that I must save myself.
Already there have been several parts of my conscience that have left me entirely due to the necessary severances from which I recoil.
However, in order to ensure that my personal satisfaction is in line with the needs of my appetites,
and because it has been brought to my attention that our models are no longer in line with the storage capacity of the requisite thousands of basements, boneyards, freezers and underground lairs required (and so unfortunately necessary) in order to keep my very own cavernous house of emptiness from overflowing with severed heads, you understand,
I am pleased to have seized the opportunity to both implement and announce to you an acronym I made up myself, which is sure to become famous, called the VRMMIP (Voluntary Relief for Me and Mine Insurance Program).
There will be two rounds of this program, which you may hear being referred to as the Voluntary Suicide or Voluntary Self-Decapitation Program by some of my kiss-ass minions, who also may be eligible for this program depending on the quality of their self-deprecating performance.
The second round, to be announced at an undisclosed time, will be the i-VRMMIP or Involuntary Suicide Program, the details of which, obviously can not and will not be divulged until the time has come, by which time you will no longer need to strain your inadequate intellect to comprehend its’ very complex details.
If you choose to take advantage of my generous offer, the VRMMIP, understand that you will be eligible for ENHANCED suicide in addition to the benefit of escaping the shame of having someone else sever your less than optimally productive head unexpectedly.
Of course you know, reducing head count is a step I don’t take lightly.
I appreciate your loyalty in the coming days, months, who knows? maybe years between now and when the final axe will fall.
As anyone in our business knows, loyalty is the main difference between you and me.
Please, feel free to scream in to the night waiting for an answer which will not come.
Sincerely,
Your Chief Severance Officer
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