The end of the innocence?

This afternoon, yet another shred of innocence was chipped away from America's youth when the Boy Scouts of America announced that it will now allow "openly and avowed" homosexual members. Not leaders, they assure us. No, we don't want anyone to go accusing the Scouts of opening *that* can of worms. No, this is simply an admission that they will now allow a homosexual boy to be open about his attraction to his own gender.

Yay for them! Go Boy Scouts! Way to go for finally "getting with the program" and "evolving" past all of those old-fashioned, archaic, and oppressive standards that tied you to all of those religious nut jobs! Now our boys can be "loud and proud" about their homosexuality! It's about time the BSA caught up with the GSA, right?

Lest you not know me well, the sarcasm was dripping from that like a 3-year-old with a popsicle. For the record, I am thoroughly disgusted. I think it was the worst decision the BSA could have made, and I do believe they have alienated thousands of supporters and they may be seeing a sharp decrease in their membership as a result. This was an organization KNOWN for its adherence to strong moral values and principles. Yet what they did was cave to political and social pressure to "evolve" and make gay boys more comfortable in their ranks.

Go ahead, call me a hater. I'm used to it by now. You may as well throw around the "homophobe" label too, while you're at it, since that's the token accusation, right? After all, I'm "one of those" who believes that homosexuality is contagious like leprosy, and of course if one gay boy is allowed in, he's going to go recruiting.

Yet more sarcasm. I'm in that kind of mood tonight.

Actually, I'm not going to throw around the typical justification for my opinion. I'm not even going to bring the Bible into this at all, because sometimes, common sense just needs to speak for itself. I want to explain just why it is I'm completely appalled by the BSA's change of policy.

I have seven children, but only one boy. Way back when he was in the tender years of adolescence, while we were stationed in Germany, I volunteered to lead his Webelos den of 13 boys while their dads were almost all deployed (what was I thinking???), and even though I was stressed out most of the time, I thoroughly enjoyed every minute I spent with those boys. It also allowed me to fulfill a dream I'd had for years of "being" a Boy Scout. See, years and years ago when I was just a wee, snarky sprout, I spent a year as a Junior Girl Scout. It was horrible. They all wanted to talk about fingernails and hair and purses and "girl power", and I was the lone wolf during the troop campout who was willing to get dirty, so I made the fire, cleaned up the muddy campsite, and chased off a raccoon that got into our tent. Those girls were WAY too girly for me, and I dreamed of being a Boy Scout to do the *really* fun stuff. However, it was very matter-of-factly explained to me back then in terms I would not understand for several more years that there is a VERY good reason why there weren't any girls in the Boy Scouts nor were there boys in the Girl Scouts. I used to think it was because boys didn't want to wear those stupid berets or the silly little sock taggie things.

And then I had children, and I understood VERY well why it is that there is a clear division between the BSA and GSA. I'll not get into my issues with the Girl Scouts right now, but let's just fast forward a few years, shall we? Right now, with two (married) adult children and five little girls moving at an alarming rate toward adolescence, their father and I were faced with a predicament--we wanted our girls to have some sort of non-church, non-sport activity that both supported our own values and encouraged them to grow up to be strong young ladies ... without the co-ed nature of the church's youth group, or our homeschool group (no offense to the families of those boys, they are OUTSTANDING young men) or their karate class. Why? Why on earth would our girls need something isolated from boys?

Two words--sexual tension. Somewhere between the ages of 9 and 12, a curious thing happens to every young person--they become acutely aware that the opposite sex is very, very different, and they begin noticing that they have an awkward feeling around those "other" people. They suddenly feel self-conscious and, even if ZERO attraction exists, the tension is there that this other person might be looking at me, noticing me, staring at me, etc.

In a "safe", one-sex setting, boys are able to be boys, and girls are able to be girls. Sure, they will eventually start comparing notes, sharing the who-likes-who and how this girl/boy is cute, but not *as readily* under circumstances when their attention is being diverted toward character-building activities. 

The BSA just removed that barrier. No, I'm not comparing gay boys to Girl Scouts. However, there *IS* going to be something there that wasn't there before--sexual tension. It's not supposed to be there! Our CHILDREN are supposed to have a safe haven where this kind of thing doesn't exist! They should be able to be pimply, awkward, and innocent. Now they have this added issue of a boy who is not "just" gay, but who is being encouraged to be "openly and avowed" about his sexual attraction to the boys who, up until now, had this one place they could escape that sexual tension! WHY do we have to bring sexuality into Scouting??? Why?? Last time I checked, the orienteering badge had nothing to do with gender! No, I'm not being flippant--I'm quite serious. I do not ever remember anything in my son's Scout manual about sexuality. Nothing. So WHY now do we need to be "open and avowed" with ANY kind of sexuality??? Why on earth would we be encouraging 11, 12, or 13-year-old CHILDREN to explore sexuality of any kind? I do not understand for the life of me why we Americans have this ridiculous need to be "open and avowed" with things that should be very private in nature. I know there have been homosexuals in scouting--both sides-- probably since their establishment. My question is this: Why is it suddenly necessary to make it public, especially when "exploring" one's sexual desires can have such disastrous consequences? Why can't our children just have one "safe place" that they can be children? Why do we have to strip them of their innocence and turn them into tiny adults before they're emotionally capable of handling it?

Why has it come to this?

I have had a battle going on inside my head for several months now over whether or not I would broach this subject at all, but you know what? It needs to be broached, plowed through, ironed out, and buried in the compost pile where it belongs. I know someone is going to get their panties in a wad about it, but we need to talk about these things ... so let's put on our big-girl panties and deal with the wads as they come, shall we?

Sometime late last year, I mentioned on one of my random "this is my crazy life" status updates on Facebook that I'd essentially run myself through the wringer on what was one of my "Crazy Thursdays", and in a mental response to a flippant comment from another grocery store patron, I added that "no one had better say I'm not a working mother". Wouldn't you know it, someone I know in real life took MAJOR offense to this. Not just eye-rolling offense, but responding with a "You've GOT to be kidding me!!!" offense. She then proceeded to detail her own day, spent in the office and then doing various and sundry around-the-house "wifely and motherly" tasks when she returned home, as opposed to what she perceived as the simplistic day of a stay-at-home mom (who had not been home from 8am till 6pm). In the rather confusing dialogue that ensued (because I knew it was my statement that had her so upset, I attempted to explain that I in no way, shape, or form was attempting to take anything away from what she does), it became glaringly obvious that there is something very serious going on under the surface. Had I not just been told by that grocery store guy that "You'd better be glad you don't work!", I might have taken it a little better, but alas, I did not. And I was exhausted. From what, though, if I hadn't WORKED all day??

What defines a "working mother"? Better yet, what defines "work"? Desk work? Standing and teaching a class of twenty-five? Construction? Making sure all of the diners in a restaurant have full iced tea glasses? In the dead-end dialogue I had with the offended party, I learned that anything I said about what I had done during that day was taken as a direct insult on the sacrifice she and her family had made to have a career and a successful life. I couldn't win that battle, nor was I even trying, because I wasn't trying to take any of the respect or prestige away from her job-for-pay, and I was simply trying to gain the same respect for my chosen career-not-for-pay. My question is this: WHY, ladies ... WHY are we beating each other up over whether or not someone is "working", and why on earth would we EVER assume to say that what one of us does is work while the other one does not work, based solely on the single matter of a paycheck? Why do we DO that????

I, as a stay-at-home mother, do not envy those who work outside the home. Period. I wouldn't want it. It's not for me, I know that, and I'm perfectly okay with being "just a wife and mom". Yes, it requires certain sacrifices, and yes, I understand unequivocally that my choice is a PERSONAL one, based on not just personal beliefs, but personal convictions and personal preferences. I don't do "team player" well, and that doesn't lend itself well to a job that requires working with people. I know this, and to some extent, this played a big part of my CHOICE to occupy myself in the work I find in my own home and family. I do have convictions that cemented this decision, but they are MINE. I don't dare assert my convictions on others, because we are individuals! I do value the career (albeit unpaid in any form of income that is monetary) that I have chosen above any other I could have chosen, because I see the value in it to my own family. Does it mean I look down on other wives or mothers who have chosen other paths? Heavens, no! I know the vast majority of people in this world would not choose to be a stay-at-home mother of seven who homeschools while her husband frequently travels the globe for weeks on end. I know that! But ladies, just because I have opted out of spending six years in college to get a Master's degree in fill-in-the-blank (other than music and the challenge of being a combat pilot, nothing else ever interested me) and I don't spend my days at an office, in a classroom, or whatever else I may find to do, does NOT mean what I do all day is not "work". I absolutely guarantee you that I work--sometimes from sunup to long past midnight, and not just at "normal" tasks like laundry and dishes and getting a heater fixed while dealing with a belligerent home warranty company. I do some things--some for myself, some for my family, some for others--that I would never have the time or energy to do, were I putting in 40+ hours working somewhere else. I enjoy that 'luxury'.

Ladies, we have GOT to get past this idea that a paycheck defines work. We have got to stop thinking that because a woman has CHOSEN to stay at home taking care of her home and family full time, that she is somehow less successful or "busy" than a woman who works outside the home for a paycheck. It's ludicrous, and it's demeaning to the many girls and women who desire a simple domestic life. I can't even begin to tell you how much it hurt to have my oldest daughter be lectured over and over again when she graduated from high school about going to college and finding a "worthwhile career" and to be told she was "wasting her life" and "taking the lazy way out" simply because she desired to be "just" a wife and mom.

I'm not a feminist by any stretch of the imagination, but isn't it a bit self-defeating and completely hypocritical to say that a woman can be "anything she wants" as long as she "works", but yet we define work as something that brings in pay, instead of being honest work that can benefit a family in other ways? Why are we doing this to each other?

The view from the top of the hill isn't pretty right now.

Three and a half weeks ago, I hit *that* milestone. The big 4-Oh. It was, to put it bluntly, not a pleasant day for me. No, I didn't break down into some dramatic fit of drippy emotion. I didn't fall apart at the seams in some my-life-is-over pity party. Actually, I'd much rather have postponed my birthday entirely, because to be honest, I really did NOT feel up to celebrating. Eleven days post-op from having a chunk of my lung removed, barely able to move, doped up half the day on pain meds, and (sorry, gents ... look away) really NOT wanting to wear that particular feminine undergarment that was behaving more like barbed wire sitting just an inch above the healing incision instead of a "lift and support" foundational piece. I never thought I would be spending my 40th birthday wishing for a squishier couch, fluffier pillows, and the ability to take a deep breath without pain. It just wasn't fun. I tried to postpone it, but the hubby said no, claiming that whole fairness deal. What can I say, he's a closet meanie!

However, I guess my family came through at least to some extent--there was no celebration. True, I didn't expect a party--in fact, in my physical state, I probably would have been the biggest party pooper to ever sing the "I'll cry if I want to" tune. But shoot, at least a recognition of surviving 40 years on this earth would have been nice. A card, flowers, maybe an ice cream cake with the standard graveyard scene ... I dunno, something? I did receive two beautiful Pandora charms from my son and daughter-in-law; hopefully one day I'll have the bracelet to put them on? And maybe one day I'll get to play with the high-powered but low-profile "toy" my hubby gave me four days BEFORE my birthday, but there was no way I was even going to touch a firearm while I had narcotics in my system. I may be on the "extreme" end of the spectrum politically, but I'm not stupid.

Anyway, all whining aside, I did at least get to do a lot of self-examination during my time on the couch once we got home from church and the meds kicked in. I learned a lot about my own physical condition these last few months. I've had the life scared out of me, I've had to consider a lot of possibilities that I never thought of at my age. Funny, when you're in your twenties, 40 seems really OLD ... and all of a sudden, you realize your thirties were almost a blur, and POOF. You're there, not feeling quite so old, but realizing that you're now sitting in the "middle age" section on this journey. I guess there really was a reason I wanted (only halfway in jest) to postpone my birthday; I had this thought in my head on New Year's Eve that I really wanted to be in a LOT better shape physically by the time the end of March and that four-decade-milestone rolled around. My lungs had other plans for me. But regardless, here I am. And right now, sitting at five weeks post-op and finally with my daytime pain under enough control that I'm able to function at about 85% what I could pre-op, I have a choice to make. Do I continue down the path I was on before I got sick, or do I make the changes that I know I need to make to get my health and physical condition to where I want them to be?

Sure, weight matters. I'm not going to lie. I'd love to be a size 6 again. Shoot, at this point I'd be thrilled to be a size 10. But that's no longer my main priority. Having spent hours in waiting rooms and doctor's offices (and hospital wards) these last four months that are normally occupied by people  twenty years my senior (at least!), I've had to come face to face with a very strange reality. All of my tests were coming back normal. I've had two doctors--specialists in some pretty intense fields--tell me that I am healthy! Wait ... ME?? Healthy?? I'm not diabetic, I don't have high blood pressure, I don't have rheumatoid arthritis, my liver and kidneys are working great, my lymphatic system is strained, but doing its job well, my cholesterol is normal, my thyroid function is normal, my heart is working just fine, and the symptoms I had early last year that kept pointing toward fibromyalgia? They are likely caused by the very same fungus that had me coughing up blood. Yeah ... I had it for a long time. It's no wonder it was killing off part of my lung. But still ... HEALTHY?

That word kind of removed a bunch of excuses for me. I know my knees and hips and back feel the strain of the extra weight, and I can't really still blame the extra weight on the birth control pills I took 22 years ago that caused me to gain 50 pounds in a month. I can't even blame the weight on the babies either; I am only ten pounds heavier now than I was when I had Kelsey, and she turned 21 last month. Nope, I need to own this. And I need to start getting a handle on it, since I actually DO have a decently clean bill of health to look forward to once this fungal infection is gone.

It's time to quit making excuses. I've made it through far worse; losing 60 pounds and being in better physical shape shouldn't be nearly as hard as my mind makes it out to be. I asked to postpone my 40th birthday six months so I could be healthier and enjoy it, and you know what? I really want to do just that. I want to wake up on the morning of September 24th and celebrate by meeting my OWN milestone, not just one that I get for being alive for forty years. I'd love to look spectacular in a bathing suit, but shoot, I didn't even look spectacular when I was in high school. That isn't a realistic goal. I want to FEEL good. I want to be able to feel healthy.

Paging Dr. House!

It's the middle of April. Talk about a blogging FAIL. I had every intention of making my blogging more regular come the New Year (you know, four and a half months ago). When I posted last, I had no idea that the very next day, I would be seeing the beginning of a twelve-week-long nightmare, the likes of which I'd only seen end in an hour on one of those TV medical mysteries.

On January 4th, we were shooting the breeze with some friends over dinner when I noticed I had a weird "crackling" sound when I'd take a deep breath. It had happened a few other times, but had only lasted for a day or two, then would disappear without any other symptoms. I never managed to have any sort of "productive' cough to get up whatever was making that noise, so I never really thought much of it. By January 5th, I had a fever. Hmm, that was something new. It was a low-grade fever, but still something to make me take notice. On the 6th, I started feeling like I had the flu. Body aches had taken over, the fever was dragging me to the ground, and the noise in my chest was still there. It wasn't until I woke up on the 7th and finally had a "productive" cough that made me really start getting concerned. I was coughing up blood. Not just *any* blood, but pinkish, and then brown blood. And the odor in my breath when I'd cough ... it was putrid, to put it mildly; like something had died in my lung. I called Pete at work to tell him what was going on, and when he came home from work, we immediately headed to the ER. (I had tried to get an appointment with my doctor, but that's another blog post/rant altogether.)

At the emergency room, I fully expected the standard chest x-ray, and I figured I'd be told I had pneumonia. I did NOT expect to have the doctor come in to tell me they needed to get a CT scan of my chest because they needed a better view. And I certainly did not expect to have yet another doctor come in and scare the life out of me with the words, "We found a mass in your lung."

In the weeks that followed, I spent way more time than I could ever imagine doing something I am not known to tolerate well--waiting. I waited for referrals for a pulmonologist. I waited to have tests run. I waited on results. I waited for more tests, then more results. Test after test, biopsy after biopsy, frustration after painful frustration, all inconclusive.

I did learn a few things during all of that frustration. I learned that my body does not handle Demerol very well; it causes my blood pressure and my heart rate to go dangerously high. I learned that I obviously have a pretty decent tolerance to anesthesia, because I don't do "twilight sleep" very well. In fact, I remember all but about five minutes of a 30-minute bronchoscopy, including having my nose filled with K-Y jelly so the tube would slide down my nose/throat easily. I also remember having my lung flooded with fluid (something called a "lavage"?) and my brain sending out warning sirens but not being able to do anything but lay there. Not fun.

I also learned that being awake for a needle biopsy of your lung is NOT "just slightly uncomfortable". It is nearly half an hour of feeling like you're being skewered onto the table, all while laying face-down and having your mouth fill with blood that you can't spit out unless you plan on laying IN IT until the test is over. Just FYI, it's rather difficult to "take a breath and hold it" while there is a needle stuck in your chest.

The third test wasn't all bad. It was yet another bronchoscopy, but this time I was fully asleep. Nice. I do recommend that. There was some pain in the days that followed, but nothing really bad. If you have to have a bronchoscopy done to biopsy a mysterious mass in your lung that isn't malignant and nobody seems to be able to get a good handle on, a super-dimension bronchoscopy is the way to go!

Problem with all of this was that I *still* didn't get a diagnosis, even after three biopsies. The only thing left was the BIGGIE, and on the 13th of March, just two days after our son came home from Afghanistan, I was admitted to have a video-assisted thoracoscopy done. My pulmonologist couldn't get to the mass, and the thoracic surgeon didn't want to mess around with yet another "test"; they decided to just go big and take the mass out, THEN run tests on it. I don't remember, but apparently before the surgery I had some REALLY good drugs, because I'm told that when some of our friends came back to pray for me, my response to "how are you?" was, "Happy, happy, happy!"

That didn't last long, unfortunately.

When I woke up from that beast of a surgery, I was in more pain than I have ever been, in all of my life. The chest tube in my side felt like I was expanding my lung against a knife blade with every single breath. I couldn't take but tiny little breaths, and when they got me up to "do my laps" around the hospital ward, I felt like I was going to die, right then and there. I couldn't get air IN my lung, it hurt to move, it hurt to lay still, it hurt to adjust myself ... it just HURT. And before you accuse me of being a weenie, bear in mind I've been through childbirth seven times; only one c-section; I've had a kidney stone; I've had a complete rotator cuff repair, including three months of excruciating physical therapy ... and this lung surgery was THE WORST pain I have ever felt. Getting that chest tube out two days post-op was a huge (and immediate) relief, but the doctors and nurses were right when they told me that this recovery is a tough one. I am a month out from surgery now, and I'm still feeling the effects. I have some nerve issues, sort of a pinched nerve across my midsection from the ping-pong-ball-sized mass being pulled through my ribs. It's still hard to lay on my side, and because the doctor did a wedge resection, meaning he took a wedge of lung tissue out to be sure he got the entire mass, I'm having to train my lung to compensate for the loss of that tissue.

So, you're wondering why I'm sharing this? To scare someone senseless? Nope. Actually, I'm sharing it because during the course of this nightmare, I found very little in terms of personal experience with what was "theorized" to be the cause of the weird crackling sound, bloody cough, fever, body aches, and drenching night sweats that I thought were attributed to the fever. As my pulmonologist suspected once the preliminary biopsies showed no malignancies, I have a fungal lung infection called histoplasmosis. I probably got it last Spring (hey, I said the "crackling" in my lung had happened before) when I tilled up a pretty large section of my backyard to do some gardening. Seems this lovely little "bug" is inhaled, completely common for the area of the country we live in, and can come from soil, rotten wood, bat guano, and bird poop. Nice, huh?

I wanted to share my medical mystery just so someone like me, with a "hinting" at a possible diagnosis of a lung fungus, can find at least one other human being somewhere in cyberspace who has been through this. I did find two other personal stories from people diagnosed with this, but both had other major lung issues beforehand--one had COPD, the other had sarcoidosis. I am relatively healthy other than having a fungal mass attack my lung. The weird putrid smell/taste that I had with the bloody cough? It *WAS* dead tissue. Necrosis. The infection was actually killing off my lung! There was also some fibrosis found during the first bronchoscopy, which scared my doctor because fibrosis with no obvious cause is a VERY bad diagnosis to have. Worse than the "C" word, I have found. Overall, finding out I have something as "simple" as histoplasmosis was somewhat of a relief. It's nice to know, after all I've gone through just to get a diagnosis, that the cure is as simple as taking an antifungal for several months.

I do wish that it hadn't taken 12 weeks to get a diagnosis, though. Dr. House always manages to cure his patients in an hour! Sigh ...

The Disney savings jar

From the moment I posted the picture above on Facebook early Christmas afternoon, I was getting query after query regarding what we were doing, how we were doing it, etc., and I figured the most efficient way of explaining our plan was to write about it here.

This past Christmas was tight. Not just for us, but for many people. Times are rough; money seems to be leaving the bank quicker than it arrives for many families, and many of us are more concerned with the business of stretching pennies than we are with the newest, most popular, latest, and greatest "thing" to give our children. Frugality calls for creativity, and this past Christmas, as we finished up our Christmas breakfast, we gave our girls a gift that, as they said, was better than anything they had under the tree. This year, we gave them the promise that, by year's end, we will take them to Disney World. My poor hubby's ears took a beating ... there was a LOT of squealing as the jar with those mouse ears painted on it came out of the bag! For those five little princessy types, the idea of visiting the "most magical place on earth" was almost more than they could handle!

Wait ... Disney? FRUGAL? Am I out of my mind? Well, that's beside the point. I know my rocker is a bit off-kilter. Hear me out. No, we don't have the $4000 (give or take) that it is going to take to get our family of seven a five-day stay at what we have affectionately (and snark-fully) dubbed "the Mouse trap". We just don't have it! We have some MAJOR house repairs that require every penny of our savings, plus a whole lot more. See, we didn't hand the girls seven tickets. We handed them a plan, and the opportunity to be a major part of that plan! The jar is just a plain plastic cookie-jar type thing that I painted the Mickey Mouse head shape onto. It was empty when we gave it to them. We told them how much it is going to cost, how much we can put in from Pete's travel pay (about half) during the next year, and then told them that it will take ALL OF US working together to fill that jar. They didn't seem all that worried. They immediately started brainstorming ways of saving the money. A week and a half after Christmas, there is already over $100 in it.

As for an actual savings "plan"? Well, mostly we are resolving to eat out less. We spend a LOT on restaurant meals that could go into savings. Yes, we make the wiggle room in our budget to do that, but if we are spending between $60-75 a week for food, we could be plunking at least 3/4 of that in the jar every week and eat at HOME! We are also planning a massive, get-the-entire-family-involved yard sale that will hopefully help us do some big-time decluttering while boosting the savings for our trip at the same time!

Our hope and aim is to make this trip DEBT FREE, while showing the girls that making small but powerful changes in our spending habits can benefit us all in BIG ways. :)

It is what it is.

It is the fourth day of December already, and I'm having kind of a hard time with it this year. Normally I welcome the Christmas season excitedly as soon as Thanksgiving is over. I *love* both Thanksgiving and Christmas ... except this year. This year, everything just seems all wrong. I can't get into it. I might as well just put on my Grinch shirt and embrace the Humbug, I suppose.

We celebrated Thanksgiving with my family, and I couldn't help feeling empty when we left. They are SO far away, and from this distance there is very little I can do that I really feel I should be doing for them. They should be able to call on us--on me--when they need something. And especially now, seeing my father's health failing rapidly ... those miles just got exponentially longer. Maybe it's selfish, I don't know. I just feel like we really NEED to be closer. The girls need to be able to be part of their grandparents' lives, and vice versa. I've realized that fact all the more now that Pete and I have become grandparents. Our little grandson is a thirteen hour drive away, much the same as our own children have been from their grandparents most of their lives. It may be our "norm", but it's not the best of circumstances for any of us. However, it is what it is. There isn't much any of us can do, especially in this horrendous economy, to bring family members closer geographically. There are jobs to consider--or the lack thereof, actually; there is that fact that the real estate market is just awful. The ideal is just not even a possibility.

The holiday "season" kicked off the Friday before Thanksgiving, with a Christmas party (I know ... but there was a purpose for it being that early) for the kids at church. We didn't even have the ugly Christmas sweaters out yet; the girls were only halfheartedly "into" the idea of anything Christmas-y at all. This past weekend marked the "official" Christmas kickoff for us, as Pete, Morgan, and Jamie volunteered with the North Alabama Railroad Museum to help out with the Santa train runs. Pete then came home and packed. The annual Christmas party at church was Sunday, but I couldn't even go to that because I had to take Pete to the airport. He's now in Germany, enjoying the snow and will likely be visiting several Christmas markets while he's there. He'll be home ten days before Christmas, but I just don't know that this year will "feel" like Christmas at all. I forced myself to dig the tree out of the shed and put it up yesterday, but I'm not up for decorating it. Maybe later this week. Just not NOW. Now, I don't really even want to look at those ornaments. It's depressing.

I know I'm going to get at least one lecture about the "meaning of Christmas"; let me just stop you right there. I know WHY Christmas exists--I just can't get wholly on board with it being a religious obligation to put more effort into celebrating the gift of Christ to the world for one day. Don't lecture me--I **KNOW** this does not make me a failure as a Christian. I am very secure in my faith and I know God doesn't judge my faith in Him by my reasons for celebration on December 25th. I'm all for the world joining together and giving thanks for the greatest gift mankind has ever known; I just can't do the "happy birthday Jesus" thing because I can't find any Biblical support for it. I'll be brutally honest with you for a minute--even at almost 40 years of age, I'm not really sure WHAT Christmas means to me, except to say that I love the celebration of family, of generosity, and of togetherness to end the year with. To me, it's the exclamation point of the crazy year where all of us are going in different directions. It's that time where we can all slow down and celebrate being together. That's probably the reason I'm having such a hard time this year; our family is not together at ALL! My parents and aunt are in Florida, our daughter, son-in-law, and grandson are in Maryland, our son is in Afghanistan while his wife is here in town, and my hubby is away on business as I'm supposed to be doing all of this preparation. My heart is just not in it this year.

Maybe I just need to go sit on Santa's lap and tell him that my one Christmas wish is to have my ENTIRE family together next year. Yeah, I know. Santa can't deliver on that one. But God can.

Stepping up on the political soapbox

It's a dangerous place to be, I know, especially for Christians. The secular world tells us to separate our religious beliefs from politics, but those of us whose faith is firmly engrafted with every other part of our life, that's just impossible to do. It's true that the Bible does not give firm directives for our involvement in politics (other than to "render to Caesar what is Caesar's" and to "honor the king"--Nero, at the time), but our freedom of religion and what we know of our nation's strongly Christian heritage both allows and requires us to use our convictions when participating in the political process.

It is argued that the very reason the United States "rose to power" and became uniquely respected by other nations was because of the values system that our Founding Fathers poured into her foundation.There is an old adage (which is wrongly attributed to Alexis de Tocqueville, but its origin is unknown) that says,

"I sought for the greatness and genius of America in her commodious harbors and her ample rivers - and it was not there . . . in her fertile fields and boundless forests and it was not there . . . in her rich mines and her vast world commerce - and it was not there . . . in her democratic Congress and her matchless Constitution - and it was not there. Not until I went into the churches of America and heard her pulpits flame with righteousness did I understand the secret of her genius and power. America is great because she is good, and if America ever ceases to be good, she will cease to be great"

This quotation echoes of the respect held for America in other countries. True, many countries (or portions of those coutnries' populations) hold a deep-seeded resentment and hatred of America, but if you dig deeply you will discover that hatred is based in jealousy--they hate us because we have freedoms they will never have. Our leaders do not assume power by brute force and intimidation; our laws are not carried out tyrannically.

Yet.

Go ahead, roll your eyes. Accuse me of watching too much FoxNews. Tell me I'm an alarmist, that I put too much stock in the scare-tactic news coverage that preys on the gloom-and-doom nature of hypersensitive conservatives. Go ahead. Have your field day. And then LISTEN.

Those who TRULY study the Constitution (not just the 1st Amendment) will realize that there is a balance of power issue that is coming under fire, right under our noses, and by and large, the American populace is letting it go because the idea of the Federal Government "taking care of things" sounds really good. We *like* the idea of making sure that our air, water, land, and food are all safe. So why shouldn't we let the government legislate laws to protect it? We all want everyone in the country to be fed healthy food. We don't want children to go hungry. We don't want people to be homeless. We don't want someone to be turned away from getting health care because they don't have the ability to pay for it. It all sounds SO good. So does the idea of keeping our military out of harm's way and not "being the world's policemen". We don't want to look like bullies. We want to be liked. We don't want anyone to think we are telling them how they can live. We want everyone to be happy, to have whatever they want to make their life easy.

Or do we? Do we really realize that this ideology will eventually threaten the rights our nation's founders fought so hardly to give us? Do we not realize that the more power we give the government, the less power the American people will have IN that government?

Of course not. Because our schools aren't teaching it anymore. Elementary schools have stopped teaching America's hard-fought history of freedom in favor of "social studies", where we all learn how important the idea of being "nice" is and that we have to accept everyone no matter what they do--we don't DARE try to impose a values system on people, that's limiting their personal freedom! What we have going on in the United States right now is frightening--there are two very different fundamental ideologies at work, and we are finding ourselves very UN-united. One side holds to our country's traditional Christian-based values systems and the principles on which our country was founded; the other insists that we will be "held back" by an adherence to these values, that we need to realize we live in a changing world (never mind the change is occurring BECAUSE of the movement within the US to "evolve") and that we must alter the way we look at freedoms so we don't offend anyone or presume to set any limits at all on anyone. This latter view is becoming increasingly hostile toward the Christian values that have been historically the basis of our morality. Now "morality" is such a vague and unpopular term that many social circles are attempting to remove any reference to right and wrong entirely. Our children are being taught as young as kindergarten that the only absolute "wrong" in this world is telling someone that there are moral absolutes.

When we look at our Constitution under the microscope of vague "tolerance", clear definitions disappear. "The greater good" will rise to the top, and the individual freedoms and liberties we have enjoyed will be blurred as the government assumes a level of power that is very difficult to remove.

Why are our fundamental ideologies important? Because our freedom depends on it. And so does our ability to practice our faith openly as our Founding Fathers intended.

30 Days of Thanksgiving (day 15)

Thankfulness for prayers that were not answered in the way we wanted. God knows; the alternative answer is far greater!

30 Days of Thanksgiving (days 12, 13, 14)

The word "stunned" comes to mind when I consider the last three days. My mind is tired, my heart is weary, my spirit is pained. The election was a disappointment, for sure, but there is much more troubling me. But gratitude and thankfulness is what I chose, and I will continue to choose to refocus my mind. Even if I can only come up with three things, those three are quite enough.

• God is still just as mighty and powerful and IN CONTROL as He was two days ago. The results of one little election do not change anything in the grand scheme of things.
• God has already won the war, even if His soldiers are bloodied and battle-weary. 
• God can provide in very powerful ways. He does it all the time. 

Reality hurts, sometimes, but when the vision is clouded, sometimes it takes some painful means to clear them.

Did I set my own bar too high??

 

The little cutie above turned 6 last month. Unlike every other child in our family, Dani's birthday is completely isolated from everyone else's. ALL of our other children have at least one sibling whose birthday falls within two weeks of their own, but Danica is out there all by her little lonesome in October. Her birthday usually falls right in the middle of crazy-season for us--right as we are getting prepared for the holidays, and finally back in full swing for school. For the two years prior to this, it was in the middle of MAJOR family events; Derrick and Kelsey were married in late October of 2010, Jon and Meagan were married in August of 2011 ... plus for the last two years, her dad has been away on business for her birthday. The poor kid has middle-child, left-out issues. I was determined this year to remedy that by somehow pulling off a NICE birthday party for her. Granted, the last *real* birthday party (one that was actually a party for KIDS, not adults) I did was for Kelsey's 10th birthday. Umm ... it's been a few years. So nevermind I was seriously out of practice, but we also had a family friend visiting for the weekend! It was crazy, but I wasn't going to cop out. Dani wanted a Rapunzel party, and I was gonna DO it. 

Pinterest to the rescue! I found all sorts of ideas for cakes, decorations, party games and favors. YAY! Problem was ... every single cake I found was either a huge carved, elaborate monstrosity of pastry and frosting (which I was seriously NOT going to do), or involved a tower constructed of stacked cupcakes. Also not going to happen. Bad things happen when I attempt anything cupcake-y. I decided I was going to have the base only, a mound of green frosting "grass", be cake. I'd be all artsy-craftsy and construct my own tower using a Pringles can. Sure! It'll work! But what did I do? I waited until the night before the party to even try figuring it out!!! What was I, NUTS?

I'll answer that one for you. YES, I was nuts. That tower, which, OF COURSE, had to at least come close to looking like the tower in the movie Tangled, was a bear. Weird angles, strange coloring, and some kooky ivy-looking thing climbing up it?? It didn't take me long to question my own judgment. I will admit, though, that it turned out really, really well! I didn't think it would when it was at this stage, though ... 

Yes, that's a Pringles can. The weird angle from the tower up to the ... uh, ... "house" (??) portion was an upturned plastic cup. Same cups I had used to make the jello "boats", which you'll see in a minute. There's another plastic cup on top, forming the base above the house (a frosting can, by the way) for the cone-shaped cereal-box-cardboard roof to hold onto. I used hot glue to hold everything together; I wasn't crazy enough to think I was going to sit around waiting for anything to dry, and I *knew* I was going to need some seriously strong glue! A little scrapbook paper, some paint, Sharpie-outlined "timbering", and green frosting ivy/grass later, plus a tiny little Rapunzel doll, some candy flowers and pink pearls, and here's what I ended up with: 

Not too bad, if I do say so myself!  

It's not super-fancy, and it certainly won't win any design contests, but it made a certain 6-year-old and her sisters giggle and squeal when they laid eyes on it! That's all I cared about. :)

Here's the spread we had set out in the dining room. The dip for the pretzels and veggies, plus the veggies themselves, were served in cast iron skillets. Oh, and yes, that cake "plate" was actually a cast iron griddle pan. The punch (which was a 64-oz. bottle of red grape juice combined with a 2-liter bottle of ginger ale ... YUMMY!!) was served in one of my stock pots! My older girls thought that was a hilarious touch. And of course, we had Dani's stuffed chameleon representing Pascal on the table guarding the food. :) 

This was one of the ideas I found on Pinterest that I absolutely had to re-create. Blue jell-o "water, with orange wedge "boats" and a little paper sail. The kiddos loved it!

Of course, since it was a Rapunzel party, we had to have a braid somewhere! What I decided was to have part of the guests' party favors be a headband with a braid attached (hot glue again), and prizes for the games would be little hair clips to attach to their braids. Dani's headband had a purple tiara hot-glued on as well. Hey, the birthday girl has to be something special! Kudos for this project go to my master braiders, Morgan and Jamie. This would never have gotten done if I had been the one to braid all that yarn. 

 Yep, we had to play "pin the frying pan on Flynn Rider". Had to. Wasn't even an option!

 

 This game, inspired by apple-loving horse Maxwell from the movie Tangled, was without a doubt one of the most hilarious games I have seen in a long time. The apples were tied to different lengths of yarn hanging from our clothesline. The object was to get a bite taken out of the apple without using your hands!!! 

 It proved to be VERY difficult for the girls to bite, they were laughing too hard!!

 Believe it or not, the one REQUIREMENT Danica had for her party was to have a pinata. Sorry, I was just too lazy to make one. Target had a good price ($15), so that's what we did. Thankfully at the end of October there is plenty of candy in bulk bags available in stores!

This was not an easy party theme, and it certainly required a lot more crafting than I was expecting, but eh ... it was worth it! 

Dani was one very happy six-year-old! 

The only problem? I have four other girls who are now expecting me to go all-out for THEIR parties!

OOOPSIE!?

30 Days of Thanksgiving (day 11)

Sometimes there are days when everything seems to just not work out in your favor: days when you miss out on events you were looking forward to; days when there are financial flubs, sick kids, and you somehow manage to burn the almonds you were roasting--to the charcoal briquette stage.

That was today. So days like today, you just have to sit back and reflect on the fact that none of this will really matter all that much in 100 years. The way we react to it all ... well, yes, that WILL matter in 100 years, because it affects our legacy, our heritage, and our influence.

30 Days of Thanksgiving (day 10)

Wow. Just ... WOW.

We just returned home from the first of several lessons on the truth about origins, hosted by one of our sister congregations here in town. My mind is reeling. I knew how powerful atheism was, but I really didn't have any clue how extensive the impact of evolutionary teaching and ideas had on the moral and ethical fiber of our nation. I'm dumbfounded.

My thankfulness tonight is for men like Dr. Brad Harrub, who are not shying away from the painful task of pointing out the damage, and the boldness men (and women) like him have to proclaim the TRUTH. May God prepare and equip and embolden many, MANY more like him to spark a wave turning people back to the truth of the Bible.

30 Days of Thanksgiving (day 9)

Educational choice. Freedom of religion. My day was crazy today, as it is every other Thursday, but it was crazy because of liberties we enjoy in the United States of America that we might not have in other nations. Today, the girls and I left the house at 8:15am and got back home at 6pm. We were running from one activity to another all day, and we are exhausted, but our lives are richly blessed and we would never even consider taking our crazy days for granted.

The morning began with our geography co-op. We learned about the country of Thailand today; the children were particularly intrigued by the little boy we read about in Children Like Me. Suchart is a 12-year-old boy whose mother died when he was very young. He is living in a Buddhist temple, studying to be a monk. His living conditions are, well, foreign to our children who are used to ample square footage. Learning that all boys in Thailand will spend time being trained in a Buddhist temple is another oddity that perplexed them. They aren't used to the idea of anything being "required" in terms of their life choices, and to some extent, that is a good thing.

We also made our flat-people today, and within a month the flat-group will be sent off into the world on a little flat-field-trip. It is amazing to think of the adventures our own children could have if they were able to make a similar journey!

After geography, we rushed off to the library, where Morgan, Jamie, and Danica cast their vote for our nation's President in a mock election. The older two were shocked and almost disgusted that Dani just "picked the top one", instead of knowing what it was she was voting for. I snickered, but my hope is that they will carry this knowledge into adulthood and never make an uninformed vote once they are of legal age to participate in a real election.

Our almost-last stop of the day (of course there was the inevitable payday-run to the grocery store on the way home, but that's nothing unusual) was a scout meeting. I can't tell you how thankful I am that the girls have an organization like American Heritage Girls available to them. Our values system doesn't allow us to support the Girl Scouts at all, so Pete and I were thrilled to learn that there was not one, but several troops in the area for us to choose from. I am loving the group we are with, too!

Our life is a rich one ... but it sure makes a mama tired! 

30 Days of Thanksgiving (day 8)

Today happens to be the day that the majority of people we know are participating in something we don't. And it's a day that I am very thankful we get to make that choice. It isn't a popular one, because a good number of people take our non-participation as personal "judgment" against their decision ... but that's just the unfortunate by-product that we see taking a "side" on anything popular. I've come to expect it, and it *almost* doesn't bother me anymore.

Tonight, however, after a very slim turnout for Bible class (it's very upsetting to me, but I'm going to hold my tongue), we came home and built a fire in our backyard fire pit. The girls pulled a big blanket out and we sat around the crackling fire roasting hot dogs and then marshmallows. If you asked my girls how their Halloween was, they would say it was the "best Halloween EVER". In fact, they did say that to us many, many times. Thankfulness that my children have learned how to find joy outside of  "the norm" abounds tonight.

30 Days of Thanksgiving (day 7)

Nothing will make you realize the frailty of life like a major scare. We've had two this year. The first was in May, when Levi was born 9 weeks early almost 13 hours away from us. The second was last night, as Hurricane/Superstorm Sandy set her sights on the mid-Atlantic coastline, making landfall dangerously close to our "kids" in Baltimore. It was not easy going to sleep last night knowing what they were in for, but as with Levi's birth and the weeks in the NICU that followed, we knew it did no good to worry and fret. All we could do is pray for God's hand to be on them ... and leave it at that.

He has certainly heard our pleas in both cases and answered with a flourish. Levi is thriving and right on track for weight (and almost with height ... he is a short, squatty little guy) despite his tiny and fragile start, and last night their little family was spared any damage or even loss of power. This is one of those nights that I am definitely just thanking God that He will handle the cares of our hearts as faithfully as He does.

I'm thankful I don't have to worry.