Looking for Legacy

Is it too soon to talk legacy? With the presidential election still a month away, and the Inauguration even farther, there are certainly more pressing issues for discussion.

Yet, it is impossible to ignore the Bush Administration’s insistence that all will be well, in either the near or distant future, because somehow time will reveal truths to us that we are missing at the present. Our minds and hearts will then be at ease, just like when DNA tests reveal that an executed criminal was actually innocent, but his family receives a nice financial settlement for their trouble. Of course, if the truth does not become evident, it will be easy to blame the agents of change. New leaders with new ideologies will pursue a different course of action, will veer off of the itinerary presently in place which, if only allowed to come to fruition, would have ultimately proven profitable for all. But now we’ll never know.

Perhaps the Administration is not seizing the day. I would actually suggest that they grab at the current economic crisis, entitle it The Legacy, and pray that things get so bad that it overshadows the rest of the facts.

Recognizing the unlikelihood of such a declaration, I have decided to maximize my own earning potential and make my uncanny foresight obvious to future generations. Thus, I have begun a list of possible history book chapter headings.

What I’ve got so far:

The Legacy of Unprovoked War
The Legacy of Perfecting Torture Techniques for the Common Good
The Legacy of Ignoring Constituents in a Republic
The Legacy of Crumbling Global Credibility
The Legacy of Increased Insular Thinking and Nationalistic Pride
The Legacy of Back Alley Deregulation

The Legacy of Vanishing Surplus

I recognize that some of my ideas may not be age appropriate for children and may even be alarming for the young students of the future. If that’s the case, they can find relief by simply turning the page and looking at all the cute pictures of extinct animals, like dinosaurs and polar bears.

Weakly planner

I have been “unemployed” for almost one full year. My job was somewhat unpredictable, so it is interesting to realize that I have actually become a better planner and more schedule oriented since being at home full time.

Most days I discipline myself to write for several hours, but each day of the week holds its own routine. On Mondays, I have breakfast with my parents and sister, do the laundry and the grocery shopping. Besides the fact that the kids and their friends have emptied the pantry over the weekend, there are usually a variety of dirty uniforms that have the potential to stink up the entire house if left in the hamper.

On Sunday evening, I wrote out a grocery list, emptied the baseball equipment from the back of my car to make room for food and asked the kids if they had any special snack requests. Right before going to bed, I checked my email and discovered that a friend needed my help on Monday. I replied that I would come.

What I thought would be a brief visit turned into a trip to the hospital in Center City where we waited for a couple of hours for a treatment that never happened. I bought a book that I never opened and the nurses searched for a vein in my friend’s arm that they never found. As I sat with my friend, my mind wandered to all the things I was not accomplishing and I started to giggle.

My weekly plans are really little plans. There is another really big plan I want to live by, the plan to cooperate with God. God, who I understand in the Christ, wants to love and care for and restore people. I don’t always get that written on my calendar, so I love it when He interrupts me and reminds me of the BIGNESS of following Him.

It would have been really cool if my laundry had been miraculously finished when I got home – all neatly folded and put away in drawers and sprinkled with angel dust – but it wasn’t.

But, hey, there's always Tuesday.

Scrambled and fried

Saturday was my 41st birthday. My precious 8 year-old daughter decided to cook breakfast for me. Since there was a hot frying pan involved, I stood nearby ready to offer my assistance if needed. I watched as she cracked eggs against the edge of the stove, dripping raw egg all down the front of the oven door. I watched as she buttered the toast on the counter with no plate underneath to catch the crumbs. I watched as she dropped the silverware onto the floor, picked it up, blew on it, and kept on setting the table. She did all these things eagerly and out of love for me, even though she made a huge mess that I needed to clean up afterward.

There were a couple of moments in the kitchen when I was tempted to interfere, to fix her mistakes, to save myself some trouble. She looked at me several times, and I just smiled and encouraged her efforts, all while fighting the urge to correct her methods.

I had a conversation with my cousin last spring that I have pondered for many months. He was sharing with me about the times as a young boy when he asked his parents what they thought - of his projects, or his essay or his friends or whatever he was involved in at the moment. His parents would freely offer an opinion, sometimes positive, but often critical.

All these years later, my cousin realized that he wasn’t really asking their opinion, he was seeking their approval, and when it didn’t come it felt terrible.

After our conversation, I sat down with my kids and asked them if they feel like I withhold my approval. I told them that as a parent, the lines between love and discipline are often parallel, but I know that I don’t always get it right. Then I assured them that I love them NO MATTER WHAT and began to cite various unnecessary examples like, “I’ll love you if you are imprisoned, or change your gender, or get a “D” in Science.” But then I gave them that unspoken hairy eyeball warning look that intimates, “But don’t you dare ever do those things” and they are now developing a variety of tics and twitches.

The idea that God loves me without condition is such a hard one to grasp and yet I lived bathed in grace. I am now 41, and I spent more than half of those years really screwing up, not too mention most of last week. I have egg all down the front of my life, but I suspect that God doesn’t mind cleaning up a mess that was made out of eager love.

And the winner is...

Even though I also have those naked on the bus or underwear to school dreams (or are they nightmares?), one particular entrant knew how to butter up the judge. The winner is:

anonymous: "Will the Fightin' Phils make it to the World Series or is it just an oneiric fantasy?!?!"

Even though the sentence lacked the confidence of a World Series win (which I myself know is no mere dream), even the mention of my beloved Phillies plummeted it into the winner's circle.

Congrats. Acceptance speech, please...and sweet dreams.

Weekend Word

I have read that the subconcious mind can reveal a whole lot about our inner-workings. This week we will join in some analysis.

Lay on the couch, watch the swinging, shiny gold pocket watch, and fight your insomnia. Click on the word below, listen to its pronounciation, lay in bed and practice saying it over and over - almost like counting sheep. After participating in some word association exercises, use the word in a sentence and put that sentence in the comments section below. Get your entry in before 10 p.m. est on Sunday evening, for that is when a winner will be dreamt up.

oneiric

If you lose, you can sleep it off.

Fashion Disaster Day

Today is Fashion Disaster Day at my kids' school. Here is a picture of Mia's duds. When I asked JJ why he wasn't participating he looked at me soberly and said, "Mom, you and I are pretty much fashion disasters everyday."

I'm debating

I am typing this as I watch the vice-presidential debate. There is a lot to think about, a lot of very complex issues to be considered. In many ways, I am still debating. But there is one thing I am not debating. Let’s review what it means to be a Christian (when you claim to be one – if you don’t, then I have different expectations for you).

Lying is INEXCUSABLE for a Christian. Lying includes taking someone’s comments out of context knowingly to support your agenda.

Attacking anyone’s character is INEXCUSABLE for a Christian. Using words that build others up would be in order.

I strongly suspect that loving your neighbor, loving your enemies and blessing those that persecute you – fundamental to Christianity - works on a local and global level.

Being a Christian means believing that God’s way works, not just throwing out support for a handful of evangelical issues and displaying nationalism.

Have I ever fallen into these failures? Sure. I'm just glad I wasn't on national TV.

The healing nature of cancer

Last Saturday night, my family and 170 other people danced the night away at a “Hooray For Life” party. My friend Diana, who is battling leukemia, decided to have a bash like none other. Swoop, the Eagles’ mascot was there, a roving magician provided entertainment, and a Mummers band played! (If you don’t live in the northeast and are wondering what a “Mummer” is – believe me, it’s worth a google).

The guests were an eclectic bunch, coming from different parts of her life – family, work, church, neighbors. One of the best parts for me was finally being able to put faces to all the names that I’ve heard Diana refer to. There was Bryan and Cuzn Bob and Uncle Lou and her nieces and nephew, Linda from work whose boyfriend remains an urban myth and our mutual dear friend Julie and her new boyfriend. My kids danced so long and so hard that the DJ finally played “Last Dance” to give them warning that it was almost over.

I watched as everyone laughed, danced and embraced. In the midst of our concern for our friend, we did exactly as she asked and we celebrated the things in life that really matter – relationships, faith and food.

Diana’s sister, whose son has refused to speak to his mother, sat next to him throughout the night. I got to see and hug some folks from my old church that I haven’t seen in quite some time. People sat at tables with people they had never met, but found themselves friends.

Opposites may attract, but it’s what people have in common that bring them together. Well, that and the Mummers.

Speaking of bail

My husband is away for business and I have a whole new respect for single parents. We have three children, so even when we are both at home we are outnumbered, but at least we can strategically position ourselves between each child to avert any poking or pinching or tripping that is attempted.

With Steve away, one of three things will probably happen this week, the best of which is that I will be arrested for throttling one of my own. They are making me nuts.

We all had off for Rosh Hashanah yesterday, and even though we had plans with Grandma and Grandpa, plans with friends, and plans to watch a new Blockbuster release, we couldn’t seem to stop picking on each other. Mom gets very stressed and her buffer of a husband isn’t here to, well, buffer.

Please do not misunderstand me. I love these children desperately – every inch of them. However, I need at least one more inch of rope, because I’m at the very end of mine with four more days to go.

My children don’t ever get the benefit of my party personality. You know, that persona that instantly appears when others are around, when we are all on our best behavior. I wonder what they are thinking sometimes when they see mine appear. “Man, everybody thinks my mom is so great. They should see her when the dishwasher isn’t unloaded immediately…”

I want to be a consistent person, so only one question remains. Do I let you see what happens when you don’t pick your socks up off the bathroom floor or do I start being on my best behavior with the people I love the most?