Clean Up On Isle Five

I had to go to the supercenter today. I tried to avoid it, but I had to get my daughter some medicine and the other pharmacy in town didn't have a pharmacist on duty. So, I was trapped for 20 minutes while I waited for her medicine and started to wander aimlessly around the store.

The first thing I noticed was all the Easter baskets. Most of them were three feet tall filled with all kinds of goodies, all for $19.95. Then there was the candy. Rows and rows of brightly colored bags that crinkled deliciously when I held them in my hand. Easter eggs, jelly beans, chocolate covered peanute butter pieces, anything a sugar-starved little waif could want.

I wandered through the cards looking for something original and encouraging for a friend of mine who's going through a really difficult time, well four difficult times all at once. WHen it rains it pours. I did find one, so decided to wander over to the books.

By this time, I was feeling a little overwhelmed with all the stuff. I don't like shopping in stores because I can't focus. Shoes, housewares, food, clothing, jewelry, garden supplies, furniture....STOP! It's just all too much.

I felt like that when I looked at the titles. All the "faith" oriented literature disturbed me. That, combined with all the materialism, made me want to spew my breakfast. It's a WalMart faith. All of them promising to help me live my best life, be a powerhouse woman, take control of my circumstances, live my faith through fashion. (What the h**l is that about anyway?!) Then there are books that tell me how to relate to God through three minute prayers. Like I could pull up to a fast food window and order a relationship with the creator of the universe. Maybe the warning would read, caution, contents may not contain any real truth at all. Nothing of any substance whatsoever.

There was nothing I saw that would even interest me in the slightest, except maybe a cooking magazine.

I'm just rambling here, so let me wrap this up concisely. My problem is not with fluff books, per se, although that is a big part of it. My problem is with the "Christian" or "family oriented" label some supercenters gives themselves.

If most families spent half the time with each other as they did buying crap at the world's largest supercenters, the world would be a much better place. Think about it. Half the stuff we purchase ends up in the garbage anyway. There is no shelf life, since most of the merchandise is made overseas and falls apart by the time you get it home anyway. It's all about materialism. It's all about me. They should call it Me Mart.

Who are we kidding. These big stores don't care about families, towns, churches or even America. It's about the money. And if we keep spending it, they'll keep selling it. I'm tired of this don't ruffle me, give me what I want, don't-require-anything-of-me kind of life.

Run Away

I ran away from home Saturday. I packed up my toys (and my daughter) and went to the beach. It was her idea really.

"I wish we could go to the beach," she said. "I just want to get out of here."

Wish granted. And boy did we have fun. We listened to country music on the way down there. Yes, she has recently converted me. I know now all the words to "Before He Cheats," but hat doesn't scare me, because we sang about destroying the SUVs of skanky men together. That really does something for a mother/daughter relationship.

We checked into a hotel with 13 pools ( I thought the sign said 31 and she corrected me after I told my parents we were staying in a hotel with 31 pools) I guess I'm dyslexic as well as obsessive compulsive, bi-polar and generally crazy. But for two days we were sane. We swam, ate, swam some more, ate some more and thoroughly enjoyed each other's company.

And then it hit me, I don't just love her, I like her too. I would choose to spend time with Sarah over anybody on earth. I remember my mom telling me the same thing when I was about 16 but I had forgotten.

"I like you, Mary," she said. "I don't just love you, I like you too." Of course, she was always the mom, but that was when we started becoming friends. I remember at that age, I would rather spend time with my mom and dad than anyone else on earth. Even Jimmy Wiggins.

"I love you." I grew up saying those words, and I say them now, to my husband, daughter, friends, dog, cat, and occassionally to Christian Bale (Batman). But I like you has a different ring. It says I choose you. I want to spend time with you. I don't just need you, I want you too.

Thanks mom and dad, for telling me you love me and like me over and over again. Thanks, Doug, for liking me even when I'm not very likeable. And Sarah...gosh you're the sky, moon and stars.

Hate

There he hangs in the mid-day sun.
Death's eyes bulging.
Tongue protruding, turning black.
The limb creaks.
His body sways in the southern breeze.

She watches from the side.
Crinoline dress, pigtails and bows.
Hand in her mother's hand.
Chewing on her picnic lunch.
Eyes gleaming.
Sunday's smile on her lips.

Peace of Mind

Do not try this at home. The following two pieces came out of an experimental writing project in creative writing class. For those of you that know and love me best, I don't do most of these anymore.

One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. One, two, three four. One, two, three, four. Four is the magic number. Set the alarm clock four times, four times, and it stays on. Lock and unlock the door four times, four times, and it stays locked. Four also works for sealing doors, brushing teeth, washing hands and turning off the stove.

Four does NOT work for finding keys or your lost marbles. Olly Olly Oxen Free! Four does NOT keep robbers out of the house. Four does NOT keep it from raining. When it rains it pours. The sky is falling. Chicken little never counted to four. If he had, it might have turned out a little better for him. I’m sure he was right. Everybody else was wrong.

Four does not work for taking your medicine. Only take one at a time. Otherwise you end up in a security blanket in a padded room. You can count to four all you want in there and it doesn’t do a thing. Better to just take one. One is the loneliest number that I ever knew. One, just one. Right, just one. Four sips of water. One, two, three, four.

Blink four times. Darn. It’s terrible to remember blinking. Close your eyes and count to four when driving. I don’t know what that does, but it gives a real rush. It must work because I’ve never hit anything that I can remember. Turn your lights off for four seconds at night while driving. Nobody ever goes with me anywhere. One, two, three, four.

Lullaby for an obsessive compulsive

• I think I left the stove on.
• My alarm clock might have turned itself off.
• There's a mosquito buzzing around my head.
• I have to balance the checkbook.
• I forgot to lock the car.
• I have to blow my nose and the tissues are in the bathroom.
• My pant legs are bunched up around my knees.
• I think I heard a mouse.
• My closet door is open.
• My back itches.
• I have the wrong pillows, and if I wake my husband up, he'll yell at me.
• My covers came untucked.
• The clock is ticking.
• The faucet is dripping.
• My left nostril whistles.
• I have a headache.
• I'm not sleepy.
• I'm thirsty.
• I think I forgot to do some homework.
• It's cold.
• Now it's hot.
• The moon is too bright.
• A dog is barking.
• The curtains are open a little bit.
• There's something under my bed.
• I have a hang nail.
• Global warming is causing the polar ice caps to melt, and in fifty years, one hundred million people will die when the ocean level rises twenty percent.
• There's a pimple behind my left ear.
• I think I have a bladder infection.
• I forgot to pay the phone bill.
• I have a sore throat.
• There's something in my eye.
• My face is dry.
• I have the hiccups.
• It's too quiet.
• My heart is beating too fast.
  

Four letter words

We didn’t use the N word in our house. You know the one. I said it last week when repeating something someone said and it felt foreign and left a bad taste in my mouth; like gritty sand, something that’s not supposed to be resting my tongue, or grating between my teeth. That word does not belong in my vocabulary.

I was introduced to its daily use when I met a friend's family seventeen years ago. She has ten brothers and sisters and they care deeply for each other, this is evident because they haven’t been able to move farther away than 1,000 feet from the old homestead. Each one has put up a doublewide in the expansive ten-acre back yard. There’s no more grass. The dogs that run wild and have tens of puppies each year have trampled every last bit of green, leaving nothing but mud and scattered brown tufts in its place. But those yards aren’t completely bare. Cars that have long since died are scattered helter skelter, turning a deeper shade of rust with every rain. But they’re not completely without purpose. The dogs can lie under them when it rains, or find shelter on those long hot summer days. They have to, there are no porches to rest under, just cinder blocks or milk boxes that appear as if they’ll topple any moment, and have a time or two under the weight of an adult. And if they get hungry, they can tear into the 50 bags of garbage lying behind any tin lean-to that doubles as a garage slash storage building. The blue tarp that flaps in the wind doesn’t keep much of anything out, except that dumb-ass that’s too lazy to drive the trash to the end of the mile-long driveway every Monday morning for pick-up.

But they’re better than the rest of the others. You know the others. That minority that took all the jobs away, or is causing the collapse of the educational system because they’re filling classrooms with children that can’t speak English. Then there’s that other one that lives off welfare, causing taxes to go through the roof, but still manages to drive a BMW with the hub-caps that spin to the food pantry for free chicken and okra Saturday mornings. You know where they get the money don’t you? It’s drugs, they sell drugs.

But hey, there’s a remedy. Just keep the kids out of school. Apparently there’s a way to do that even if you don’t have a high school diploma. That way they won’t be corrupted and can really learn the difference between right and wrong. That way they’ll know it’s not okay to hang around the others because they might get pregnant, or the color of their eyes may change from blue to brown, or they might start listening to that hip-hop shit, or think it’s okay to swim in the public pool that lets in people from the bottoms.

My family wasn’t prejudiced at all. We never used the N word. We never talked down about different races around the dinner table, at family gatherings, or any other time. I was taught to respect all people and understand that our differences are what make us unique. I went to public school, but we lived in an upper-middle class neighborhood, so everybody except one girl in our school looked just like me. And she was an exceptional person. You know the kind…one of the good ones.

My family wasn’t prejudiced. We were tolerant. The word today signifies acceptance, but that’s just not the case. Tolerate: to put up with. Acceptance: to receive willingly; to give admittance or approval to, accept as part of the group; to regard as proper or normal. With the exception of speech, my husband’s family and mine weren’t so different. I didn’t bring any black people home, and living in Upstate New York, I didn’t know any Hispanics. Even though I felt comfortable that anyone of the opposite sex I brought home to meet my parents would be accepted, no matter their race, as long as they were a Christian, went to a spirit filled church and spoke in tongues. We didn’t use the N word, we were tolerant. We only used words like sinner, fag or tramp.

Tolerance is a four-letter word. Tolerance means I don’t actively seek out those that are different from me in order to seek a better understanding. Tolerance means I don’t care to learn about anything outside the boundaries I have created for myself. Unfortunately this means I won’t learn anything new about myself either.

Tolerance is a four-letter word. Tolerance is hell.

Focus

I watched the movie Water last night. It was directed by Deepa Mehta and chronicles the lives of widows in India by focusing on the life of an eight-year-old widow, Chuyia. By the way, I recommend the film to anyone. The story takes place in the 1930s, but not much has changed since then. Hindu widows did and still live in ashrams after their husbands die, where they are forced to live in penitence and are many times are treated badly. This film explores the practice as motivated by financial and not spiritual necessity. A widow gone from the home is one less mouth to feed, three less sarees to purchase per year and one less corner of the house inhabited. Ghandi's rise to power is the backdrop for the film and the social statements it makes. Many of those statements are relevant today.

I was disturbed because the film made me contemplate the focus of Western Christianity as a religious practice. That focus, if taken from the mainstream Christian and secular media is rather a selfish one. Authors and speakers sell an abundance of books, tapes and host bible studies and radio programs focusing on things that steal your joy, living your best life now, and planting the largest seed for your greatest need. Admittedly, the focus of my faith tends to bend inwardly as well. Are my pants too tight? Do I gossip too much? Is my shirt too low? Am I fulfilled by the worship at my church? Did I miss too many Sundays or choir practices? Those question pale in comparison to more global issues.

What can I do to alleviate suffering? Am I taking care of the fatherless and the widow? What can I do to minister to those stricken with AIDS? Why are people in Darfur being slaughtered and why don't most people write their legislators to insist something is done about it? Do the poor have enough to eat? Are they warm this winter? Are those in prison being shown that there is another way to live? Will their children have a Christmas this year? Who helps them with their homework? Why is domestic violence on the rise in my community and the nation and what can I do about it? Who's helping teenage mothers raise their children without sacrificing their own future? Who's teaching them that someone loves them and cares? I could keep asking questions, but there are far more than I can fit in one post.

Here's the real question. Why is the focus on me and how can I help others live their best life?

Jesus got angry one time, well two if you believe there were two separate times he drove the money changers from the temple. The first was after his ministry began, after changing the water into wine. Here's another question. How do you think he would react to white evangelical Christianity? Think about that for a while before you answer.

Lets focus on one issue, the racial divide in the U.S. Most churches pride themselves in being diverse, but that is simply not the case. A diverse church means more than just having something better than a 30/70 ratio on races. Diversity or racial unity should be measured in the effectiveness of the church to influence social change. Many place that responsibility on leadership or programs that have been installed that give us a sense of accomplishment in that arena, such as food pantries or funds for helping the poor. While these are good and I would argue,essential, we have to be careful not to stop there. The focus of entire congregations across the nation needs to change.

During election time the two issues most vocalized are pro-life and pro-family issues, or rather, anti-abortion and anti-homosexual marriage issues. Either way you look at them its still the same. I would like to hear other issues raised. What about equal housing? What about equal education...you can argue all you like, but the educational system is still by and large separate but equal, ask anyone who lives in a rural county or inner city. The district lines are geographically drawn, yes, but poor white and poor minorities live in different districts than those fortunate enough to be privileged with a higher income. For, example in DC, tax bases ensure that a school two miles away will have enough resources to guarantee that 99-percent of their students graduate and go to college while a lesser school can boast about nothing more than an 80-percent drop out rate.

Emerson and Smith focus on the racial divide, but socio-economic status can be discussed in the same terms as mentioned above. Only change can be instituted when a majority of the people wake up and realize the gospel is not meant to line our pockets, wean us off Paxil and make sure that we walk in divine health.

Just take care of your neighbor...it's that easy. I bet you haven't seen many Samaritans lately, but think of any group that is despised or rejected, for whatever reason, and that's your neighbor. As far as I'm concerned, tolerate is a four-letter word. It means merely to put up with. What about the word accept. That's a better one, meaning to actively make a part of the group. To define as normal.

We should actively seek out those that are different from ourselves. Not just tolerate them. To accept someone doesn't mean that you substitute their beliefs for your own, but it does mean you understand where they're coming from. It means you accept the person, and are letting go of stereotypes you hold. We ALL have them. It means they fit your definition of normal and are no longer viewed as the other, or those people.

Do yourself a favor. Make a list of your friends and your acquaintances. If there's diversity, great. Remember, diversity is at least 30/70 for our purposes and it is defined in a variety of ways: race, socio-economic status, varying religious beliefs, etc. I'm not proposing an affirmative action social life here, just an examination of the variety of people you seek out. If there's a lack, ask yourself why. Get out of your comfort zone and see what happens.

Happy Family

No, I'm not going to talk about Chinese food today. So many times, in the hustle and bustle of life, I forget to be nice to my family. Don't shake your head at me, you know you're the same way, admit it and move on.

I'll be at work and somebody will get on my last nerve. I handle it as nicely as possible, asserting myself only when I need to. Or I'm dealing with a person that didn't quite agree with an article I wrote. I don't argue with them. I smile as sincerely as I can, look them in the eyes and at the very least say, "That's interesting." That's my code for, "I think you're nuts, but I'm not telling."

Why don't I do this at home? My daughter asks me a question three times in a row and I snap the answer to her. My husband asks me for the umpteenth time where the casserole dish goes. I mean, we've been married for SEVENTEEN years and he's been helping me put the dishes away at least half that long. Pay attention, keep up, really. I point my finger and with no kind tone alert him that it goes under the cabinet to the left of the sink, under the shelf with the Tupperware on it, which by the way he never puts away in the order they should be stacked in anyway. The red Rock N' Serves go together and the blue Rock N' Serves go together. All of them should have their tops securely fastened and they should be stacked with the larger containers on the bottom and the smaller ones on the top. The tops do NOT go half-hazardly into the drawer under the microwave, but no one EVER seems to remember this.

I get it honest though. Anyone who spends an afternoon at my parent's house can't keep from smiling when my mom tries to tell my dad the dishes go in the cabinet. There are more than a dozen cabinets and my dad can never keep them straight.

We were reading the bible for devotions today and I Peter 3:8 stuck out for this very reason. This is the verse our family is memorizing this week. This version is from the translation, The Book, which is quickly becoming my favorite. We don't speak the king's English anymore and as I get older, I relish a translation that doesn't need translating.

"And now this word to all of you: You should be like one big happy family, full of sympathy toward each other, loving one another with tender hearts and humble minds."

Food for thought.