Pain

          This week's topic was too close to home to be recorded. I became emotional on my attempts. My apologies. My tone is angry. My tone is defiant. If that is what you hear in your head, you hear it true.
          I was born vibrant, emotional, beautiful, colorful, proud, highly intelligent, compassionate, with deep desire to be loved, and female. These are my core personality components. They aren't broken. They are not sinful. There are those that hate them. There are those that constantly try to take them from me and give me, "timid, humble, malleable, weak, and pastel." For years, I tried to take those things on as something I have to be. All those in charge of me felt that it was the best way for a woman to be. Easily controlled.
           I could only be intelligent if my mind came to the same conclusions as their minds did and honestly, often, mine did not. In one "science" class I was taught that the speed of light was a trustworthy measure. My teacher said a "constant in the universe. Unchanging." She said that there were stars we were just now seeing whose light came from millions of light years away. She then said that God made the stars with the light already coming here just so we could see them. I started to feel that that was really a wrong thing for God to do. I raised my hand. "Why would he do that?" She said, "We don't know it is just the way that he had it written down in the Bible. The time does not allow for another answer." I knew that the Bible was not written when God made stars. I was in the 5th grade. What happened next to me was a hardcore brainwashing scheme from the Ken Ham training camp. I was beaten with stories of humans and dinosaurs, 6,000 year old universe, and lies that covered the truth of the universe. I was taught I must believe that or not be a "real" Christian. OH! I wanted to be a REAL Christian! I shoved doubt aside and honestly stopped thinking. I then met Pete. He had all the same thoughts I did on Creation and the actual REAL science to back it up. He knew physics and big bang and fossils and ages and provable, repeatable science. I almost ended our relationship, but then I decided to override the deep brain programming and listen to this boy. I did. I drank in deeply the knowledge that fed and freed me.
           This was unpopular. This made us not liked. I started to think about the other things I was taught and I saw how the church treats women. I remember a woman in the congregation shaking her head, "no" vehemently during a sermon she did not agree with. This woman was then called by the pastor on the phone and was told she needed to let the "head of the home" show agreement or disapproval of a sermon in a public setting. I was livid when I heard. This showed me that women were not allowed to have opinions in church and that never changed. Not once. In every church I tried attending women were not to be "thinkers."
           Continuing on treatment of women, there are the insidious views of cheating and sex. In 2013, out of academic interest, I started looking into information and advice from all sources on the Christian take on cheating men. The journey into that clap trap has been eye popping. The best book offered up in that genre was the still odious "Every Man's Battle." I thought that it, out of all of them, offered real help to the struggles of men and the responsibility they have to not be animals, but there was still blame. Still there was the pointing finger at the wife and women who like to dress in fashionable clothing. The author's plea to women was to please cover cleavage and wear loose clothing so as to not draw attention and "cause brothers in Christ to lust after you." My shirt caused this? My desire to dress in a fashionable manner to please myself, "CAUSED HIS LUST?" This was also not new to me.
           When I married Pete 16 years ago, I was at a conservative Baptist church with a conservative Baptist preacher. We had to undergo "marital counseling" before he would conduct the ceremony. So as not to inflame our passions, (Please note I was 21 and Pete was 24), he saved the "birds and the bees" for last. During this most awful and embarrassing discussion with this man, he said these odious words in such a loving and paternal voice, "There is no such thing as rape in marriage, only selfish wives." My internal response was "You bastard. Your poor, sweet, wonderful wife." Her stunning face was instantly in my mind. What had that lady suffered? I stuttered, "No, rape is rape. If I am sick or uninterested at the moment, forcing me isn't going to make me love Pete more or make me be more available to him." He then went on to explain that if I weren't available to Pete enough, Pete would be tempted to cheat on me. Pete then got upset, but being a hater of conflict, he just got us out of the conversation as quickly as possible. THANK HEAVENS Pete is a better man than that odious preacher. He immediately reassured me that he would never treat me that way. He loved me too much. I knew that I had chosen a worthy mate. And in all of our history, he has never treated me like that pastor implied he treated his own wife.
           Now onto the ever darker and uglier side: rape victim blaming. Recently here in Lafayette, IN, there was a teacher that molested a 16 year old girl multiple times over the course of 3 months. She did brag of her "relationship" but in this setting, he groomed her, bed her, was 22 years older, and was her school teacher. That is not a relationship. When the local news station, WLFI, posted the story to their wall, the responses were mixed. I landed on the side of, "What a deplorable human." Many of my fellow Hoosiers commented on how the girl was a "slut," "she knew what she was doing," "He is a great teacher and should not be fired for this," and my favorite, "she is 100% to blame wearing trashy clothes and already loose and easy by that age, my kids know her." The trashy clothes were picked out by him for her. I was stunned at how many people thought that in the circumstance of a 38 year old school teacher bedding a 16 year old student, the student was to blame and had it coming. What was interesting, a month later, an Asian employee at a different school molested a girl and was properly vilified by the same exact people. There was no, "Great teacher needs to stay," crap. I stood in horror at the entire brutality of the moment. Not only was the support and condemnation HORRIFYING, it was racist. "We only support white molestation."
           I often feel that I must be cautious with my identity; it is important for me to stay safe and take caution when out at night. Mainly because there are scum that do take advantage of women. I can not help but wonder if this kind of victim blaming ups the freedom to commit acts of violence. If males of the species repeatedly hear how tight clothes and a vibrant, flirty personality is a cause for them to act worse than baboons, maybe we should stop talking about the clothing women choose to wear and focus on the fact that those males are at fault and need to be in jail. The only woman that "wants it" is the one that actually says, "Yes."
             We have screamed and screamed as a society that, "No means No," but still the males that want to hear, "No means Yes," are affirmed by the consistent message, "Women need to behave differently to be treated differently." Whether there is truth in that statement or not does not matter. If males refuse to look at or come on to women in their moment of shame, the cycle of shame would stop. Men need to step up and show respect when the woman has little or no respect for herself. Then the damage done by woman blaming and rape/molester excusing will start to be undone and women will see they can be confident and free without fear.

Link to the comments on the WLFI page about the white supported molester. Click the replies to Robb Hayword's comment, "Victim blaming in 3, 2, 1…." They are SHOCKING:

https://www.facebook.com/search/str/WLFI%2C%20News%2018%20student%20molested%20by%20teacher/keywords_top

Link to the story of the Asian and soundly condemned molester:

https://www.facebook.com/search/str/wlfi%2C%20news%2018%20student%20molested%20by%20former%20employee/keywords_top

Truth Will Out

            I am an intelligent woman. My search is only for truth. Truth is all I crave. Does not matter if it aligns with what I believe because truth always trumps belief. When faced with truth different from what I believe, I change. I have recently found that those who believe so hard in certain aspects of their rule following religiosity are dangerous and untrustworthy. They do not crave truth. They crave a desire to be right at all costs to still be able to feel comfortable that their ideas are mainstream truth. They crave that others will think like they do and to know their truths. Well, refusing to sell goods and services to people with different ideas than theirs certainly isn’t the best evangelistic tool. The only purpose I can see it serving is making the person who refuses feel like they have some sort of false superiority or belonging to a club that the others can’t join.

            I have sat in a parallel universe sort of world where the Christians on my friends list started arguing that discrimination was really ok. “We need to exclude, set out signs, and not participate in a capitalistic market in a fair and legal way. In fact! We NEED to protect our right to exclude and belittle.” Excluding and belittling is such an addictive mindset. It soon spreads to people who are excluded. All of a sudden, the formerly excluded are discriminating against those who excluded them first.

            Jesus wasn’t about clubs. Jesus wasn’t about excluding and setting out signs that said, “No Admittance.” He certainly spent a lot of time yelling at people who were. The people group intent on discrimination during His time were called Pharisees. Oh, I have heard so many sermons on how not to be like Pharisees. When I was small, the word used to scare me and I was made to feel the Pharisees were the bad men who killed Jesus. I shivered as a tiny three year old. As a full grown 38 year old, I still tremble as I look around at those I love and realize, “I am surrounded by Pharisees.”

          Before you start to scream, hear me now, I used to be one too. I remember how smug, pleasant, and easy it was to have things checked off my extra special list of holiness. Now I see, I have no holiness. I have no space to judge and exclude anyone. I have no special inroad to special benefits. Any holiness imparted to me is not mine. I believe that God sent His son to give me His holiness and I can not muster up any of my own. A part of me stands in utter humiliation. How do I go about demonstrating my gratitude out of this state of despair? Right now in this moment, it seems I need to say, “Make gay floral arrangements and wedding cakes. Stop being bigoted.”

Second Class.

            I am a Christian. I believe in the Bible and Jesus. I am not confused by the words that are there. I feel I need to say these things because I believe some of you are. The Bible is very clear on what followers of it are to do and be. It outlines in both halves rules for morality that are clear. Where both halves agree, I take note. Where they are different, I follow the words in red. Meaning, the teaching of Jesus trumps all. This is my way of life. This is my truth. I know that it is a good way to live. I have no right to force another human to live the way I live. I have no right to treat another human badly because he or she lives a different way than I do. I am called to do the best I can, share when sharing is wanted, and to encourage other believers when needed. Encouragement is tricky. Sometimes the encouragement is an affirmation of doing the right thing and other times it is a call to stop doing wrong things.

            Believers, we are doing wrong things. Despite my hopes that Indiana would be a place of religious freedom, we all must acknowledge that it is a place of religious oppression. Personal choices and lifestyles cannot be mandated by law. Whenever I try to impose my beliefs and lifestyles on others, I become a tyrant and tyrants are evil. This week Indiana proved that the powers of religious oppression and discrimination are large and in charge. This mess is set to pass the state senate. http://wlfi.com/2015/01/03/bill-would-allow-hoosiers-to-refuse-gay-weddings/This article is about a bill that will allow business owners to deny customers **who have the money to pay for services rendered** because they do not agree with them about religion.

            Dear Indiana, This is America it has been based on a free market, capitalist system where the only way to encourage your beliefs is by the goods and services you seek to sell and offer. I am a Christian. If I were to open a store, I would carry goods that reflected my beliefs. I would then allow whoever wanted to to come in and read, discuss, and buy. If I were a florist that did weddings, I would carry trinkets and baubles that reflected my views, but I would make bouquets and arrangements for every single couple regardless of orientation and gender and charge the same rates to all. WHY?? Because that is the Christian thing to do. It is the way of life that protects my way of life as well as theirs. There will come a time when being a Christian is discouraged and discriminated against, probably because wackadoodle behavior like this. Who wants to have a bunch of bigoted haters around? I can think that couple is making a mistake or committing a sin but listen up, IN MY FLOWER SHOP THAT DOES NOT MATTER. If I gave the flowers away, that is support. If they buy them and I make them, THAT IS BUSINESS WITH PROFIT. Jesus did not refuse service or deny flowers. He was friend and servant to all.

            I believe in the American ideals of integration, capitalism, freedom for all, and the right to choose. Discrimination is an end to all of those ideals. Because of this, I must make a difficult announcement. If this bill becomes law, I will have no choice but to boycott any business that denies paying customers because of religious oppression. This means I will not be buying goods and services from people who are Christians. (Added to clarify, I will boycott only the Christians that discriminate against customers over religious difference.) This hurts me, but as we live in a capitalist market, it is the only way to make my opinion truly heard. I finish with the famous quote from Martin Neimoller. He was a German pastor in the Lutheran church. He refused to listen to Bonheoffer until it was too late. When the Nazi’s came for him, he was alone.

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
            Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
            Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
            Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me

Leonard

“When you let me take, I'm grateful. When you let me give, I'm blessed."

Last post I mentioned a doughnut meme. Here it is in all it’s glory.

 I have to be REAL right now.  I am a metaphorical doughnut eater. You give me an inch; I will take a mile and make you happy about it. It is a skill. But see, if you aren’t careful and you miss the other side of me, you might miss that I am on a journey of giving. You give me I mile, I am willing to give you two miles if you want them. I will dance and laugh and make you enjoy the journey in spite of it all. I guess if you wanted to, you could get all bent out of shape about what I have taken OR you could take a few doughnuts yourself.

            I wasn’t going to go into the doughnut meme at all until I read Leonard Nimoy’s thoughts on taking and giving. It is so perfectly in tune to basic human function. We all need to take from time to time, but if that is where we stop, we miss the point. Giving is the heart of it all giving is the true joy.

            Once you have been in the position of needing and someone gives, you truly understand the joy of giving. You see that you are meeting needs, alleviating hurt and making one person’s day just a little bit brighter. Giving also helps us to feel useful and needed. Useful is a basic need. We seem to be designed to need to serve a purpose. Each of us is good at different things and each of us compliments others that lack our skills. I posit we descend into less if we stop seeking useful, I know I do.

            This past week I have had an odd viral infection that sidelined me. I watched my spouse cook, clean, care for me, and keep children safe all in one go. I absolutely could not stand, but lying in bed listening to him ride the emotions of frustration and joy that come along with my job, hurt me. I was a sponge and I was missing out on the rhythm of my family; my life. I was grateful for the care I was receiving, but I needed to bless I needed to give. So, this week as my strength returns, I’ll be cleaning and doing, loving and caring for.  Taking is good when I must, but giving is life.

Weakened

          

          Addiction is in my genetic code. My friend sent me a silly meme that illustrated a point about personality types using doughnuts. I carried on good conversation about the meme, but kept up the doughnut metaphor. Now, real, actual doughnuts are my downfall and undoing. I was sitting outside the grocery having this conversation. I knew the doughnut rack was in there and all I could think of was the glazed, yeasty, chewy crunch. I have a family member who killed herself with doughnuts. She had horrendous diabetes, but could not say no. She lost her toe, then toes, then foot, and when the surgeon came for her leg, she died of complications in the hospital. Her demise was her inability to give up her dozen doughnuts every day. She was strong, beautiful, capable, and brilliant in every other capacity but one. Oh. I cannot eat doughnuts. I cannot have doughnuts. Unchecked doughnuts will kill me. With. Out. Doubt.

            I recently saw a wonderful video found here from Russell Brand (gorgeous, irreverant, English funny-man who exudes sexual fervor) where he sat behind his laptop shirtless in bed talking about how his mind (his wonderful mind) had been weakened, hampered, hurt, and addicted by porn. He said, “I saw a visual of a woman and I didn’t think, ‘Does she get along ok with her dad? Does she have diabetes? …What of her soul?…No, I only think she looks nice.” He goes on to wonder what harm will come from “great ice bergs of filth flowing through homes on Wifi.”  He wonders what the psychological impact will be when people who have completely turned women into a commodity grow up and try to run the world. He sites the Journal of Adolescent Health and the opinions of sociologists.

            Another great addiction is constant comparing ourselves to other people. There is a rush of chemicals that comes from seeing others as less than ourselves. When we see the lady who likes loud music and includes people regardless of race, gender, and religious preference, we can see her as inclusive and kind or wanton. We can pat ourselves on the back knowing we aren’t her. Ah the rush of chemicals that comes from being better than fills our minds. So we sit at computer screens giving nothing out but constantly taking in and making notes and judging like mad because we need to fill some deficiency in our hearts. Thank you pinterest for that.

            Addictions strip our credibility. When I am on a sugar filled high fueled with doughnuts, I am unable to focus, to hear, or to formulate the best advice. I am unfit. So, as a responsible human let alone, mother, wife, daughter, and friend, I work hard to purge out that which weakens me. See, I could sit here and quote scriptures and they would apply, but the needs of humanity at large apply too. We as a people group need to stop feeding our chemical needs and reaching out to a higher way of being; solely because it is the right thing to do.

Solving a Problem.

Solving a Problem.

            The number one life skill I wish to pass on to my magnificent brood is the ability to think on their feet. I am a problem solver from childhood. My father was the one that taught me to think along the lines of making it, fixing it, or improving it if didn’t work. “It” can be anything. Tools, décor, bookshelves, cars, you name it. I loved making things with my father. (Ok, so repairing cars wasn’t fun, but I can impress you with my knowledge of them.)

            When I started this blog, I kept having difficulty with my hard plosive sounds. You know, that noise of the P that is the little forceful expulsion of air that comes from making the sound. I thought about what I had learned from my obsession with the music industry. I realized I needed a wind screen for the mic. This is the mesh shield to catch the air and keep the noise from reaching my recording. Now, here in America, I am always surprised by the response that my fellow citizens have to this sort of situation.

            I know in my heart that many would have said that I needed to buy a professional mic with stand and fancy pants professional screen. The cheapest I was able to find right now on Google was 100.00. Now, I have a hundred bucks. I ALSO have a vegetable strainer and crocheted pot holder. I spent twenty bucks on a webcam with mic and now hold it inside my potholder covered vegetable strainer. My solution is cheaper and works pretty well. I figured it out without a huge expense.

            There are corners of the world that are surprising me and encouraging this kind of thinking. I love Etsy how it inspires creative people to make useful and pretty things. People are seeing patterns and having ideas that I deeply appreciate. Engendering a love of making, doing, figuring out, exploring, and trying is key to my parenting style.  I was thrilled when my daughter learned to crochet. It seems that these kinds of creative people learn to look at all of life’s problems with a “How do we fix it” attitude.

            Those times when I feel stuck or stymied, I do not sit around and wait for someone to figure it out for me or hand me all I need to solve my next dilemma. Instead, I look to what I have on hand. What skills, ideas, solutions and new ways of thinking do I need to adopt to kick this problem? Sometimes, I need to jettison something like a bad habit. Rarely do I have to go buy something, change everything about myself, or try to be something I’m not. In fact, when I have tried those solutions, I almost broke inside. God has made me to be me and given me what I need to figure it out.

            So, if you are feeling lost as to what to do with a problem you are facing, look at your life and figure it out. I promise, just putting one foot out and taking a step is usually all that is needed. 

Relationship

Relationship.

            Faith is the key. Faith is ever abiding and shores up. Faith holds on in spite of an overwhelming lack of evidence. Faith has felt and heard the voice of the Father and will never walk away from Him. Faith isn’t fancy in a tidy suit and appropriate hair cuts. Faith can be messy. Relationship will have you mocked. Relationship is hard.

            I look out at the wonders of the universe and see an invisible hand and my heart swells. Others look out and see only numbers, equations, and cold emptiness. I marvel that in the face of all that vast BIGNESS OF IT, God sees me. It seems impossible that a being capable of sustaining all of that for BILLIONS of years cares for me and my heart condition. No wonder they call me crazy. No wonder it is so hard to see. It would be so much easier to see numbers, equations, and cold emptiness.

            Having felt the Presence of the Divine, I had no other recourse but to choose. I sat down with an encyclopedia; a spiral bound notebook, and a ball point pen. I was 15? 16? I do not remember. At age 10 I wondered, “If I were in India, wouldn’t I be a good, little Hindu girl in a Hindu school? What of Jesus then?” It was a valid question that nagged at my mind. I had to sort it out for myself. I made several headings at the top of the page, “Sin,” “Dealing with Sin,” “Paths to Redemption,” and “Eternal Life.” I then went down the side of the page with all the religions I could possibly think of.

            The outcome was shocking. At “Paths to Redemption” I saw that only Christianity said, “You do not have one. I came to you and found you.” Christianity is the only place where people in all conditions and make ups were completely accepted no matter what. All the other religions I could think of on my paper gave hard, grueling chores to be carried out. AND IF you managed to carry all of them out dutifully, the capricious god at the end of it could not allow you rest or eternal life because of your beard length. I had had enough of nonsense like that. I chose then and I choose now to stay with Christianity.

            The religion of my last blog had eliminated GRACE. Sure, Jesus loves you, but you can’t act this way anymore. You can’t have fun, listen to loud music, run indoors, dress fashionably, and enjoy ANYTHING of modern pop culture. To do so would somehow void your free redemption landing you in “backslidden.”

            When you live in Relationship holding the hand of the great God, it is really hard to stumble into that which He hates. And what is it that truly God hates?  Since I have chosen this path, I offer this, Proverbs 6:16-19:

¹⁶ There are six things that the Lord hates,
    seven that are an abomination to him:
¹⁷ haughty eyes, a lying tongue,
    and hands that shed innocent blood,
¹⁸ a heart that devises wicked plans,
    feet that make haste to run to evil,
¹⁹ a false witness who breathes out lies,
    and one who sows discord among brothers.

            When I look to the legalistic clap trap of those that adhere to their ridiculous paths to extra special holiness, I see the above things. All of them there on that list are present in a legalistic mind set. For, with legalism there must always be an accuser. Always police informers to tattle about Karen and how she posted horrendous things. Relentless eyes that see all and are eager to judge every single word I say here. Look to the words on the page. Be free of bondage and embrace true and living Grace from Jesus today. 

Painful Truths.

Painful truth.

            I am and will be until further notice a Christian. I am and will be devoted to the teaching of Christ. But at this point I am leaving the cultish churches of my past. I want to be blatantly clear. My parents only assented to the nonsense of their ilk because of their chosen profession. Said my mom, “Honey, the only people doing Christian schools back then were Baptists and Catholics. We made our choice.” I will also point out that when my parents were given a freer hand they made Highland Christian School. Under their care, it became a place where questions could be freely asked, ideas could be exchanged without judgment, and simple truths were taught. This blog is not about Joe and Eloise Delinski. Know that right now. This blog is about the churches we were temporarily a part of and that I knew of through a friend.

            I will get to the heart of the matter with this LOVELY quote from the very controversial man H.P. Lovecraft. Here I have a visual aid. 

Ouch. I have seen it with my very own eyes. It is here that I must clarify the difference between what I believe about that oft repeated phrase, “Relationship vs. Religion.” Religion says that we have to have some way to make a path to Heaven. We must convince people that this path is the only path. They must bow, scrape, give up the simple pleasures that this world affords, they will be controlled by what we say they can think. I listened to the restrictions of the churches they read like this, “No dancing (of any kind). No secular music. Ladies at all times must keep knees and décolletage covered. Men must keep hair trimmed above the ears at all times; beards must be neatly trimmed and respectful if one must have a beard. Music must be in quiet tones. Drums come from Africa and African religions. They are a link to paganism and have no place at all in the Christian home and MOST certainly NOT in the church. Hymns will be added after scrutiny of lyrics and musical stylings. Artists like Michael W. Smith and Amy Grant that claim to be ‘Christians’ only pervert young minds and encourage them to backslide away from the decent truths of Christ. We are to avoid all appearance of evil and music that sounds evil IS evil. Do not even THINK about alcohol.”

            Now I do agree that the ten commandments are summed up by Christ’s teaching on the Greatest Command to “love God and love each other.” I am right now talking about domination, fear, and mind control. I saw these played out right in front of my eyes in my friends’ lives and could do nothing to stop it. I could only be ready with tissues.

            My peers lived in a nightmare where exposed knees and bopping up and down to a music video could be punished. Severely. They lived in a nightmare where simply saying what they saw as clear logical truths could have them sent to special classes and quite simply put, reprogrammed. I would like to say that things have changed that I don’t see this kind of nonsense anymore, BUT I DO! Now, this is not about my church. I have found a rare and wonderful haven where thoughts are not feared and questions are encouraged. I never knew such a place existed, but it does. NOPE. This next bit applies to people who tell me that I have to deny all the basic science and known laws of the universe to be saved. It applies to the horrendously insecure person who told my friend that her need to take anti-depressants made her “no Christian at all.” It does apply to all that would keep people from using birth control in their marriages and dictate how they are to live in all aspects of life. NOT OK.

            The Bible says nothing at all about ANY of that stuff. You are making it up out of the TOPS OF YOUR HEADS AND TELLING US WE NEED TO BUY IT TO BE A “SPECIAL KIND OF HOLY.” God forbid it. You have added words to God’s truths and therefore bear the consequences of it.

            God offers us a relationship that is a choice. You can choose to believe as I do or choose to not. I can only choose for me and cannot impose on anyone else. If anyone wants to know the reasons I stay, tune next time. But know, I will not tolerate any of that nonsense in my life anymore.

There is one who helped me immeasurably. Thank you friend. 

Learning Enabled part 3.

Learning enabled part 3.

            Up until now, I have been quiet on the subject of my daughter Sarah. Honestly her coming along helped me to understand that my parenting was NOT to blame for Joey’s difficulties. She responded to my husband and I in ways that let us know we were managing to do something right. Then she outstripped us.

            When she was 18 months she could speak very well in complete sentences. I was stunned. At 2, people understood her plainly when she spoke and mistook her for being 3. At 4 she worked 24-48 piece puzzles with ease and asked if they came bigger. Just before her 5^th birthday she learned reading in one afternoon spent with me. She looked at me and said, “I got it mom. Let me read the rest to you.”  This child continues to amaze me. At 6 she figured out number lines and negative numbers in her head with only vague conversations with her father about numbers “under” 0. As we sat and worked a puzzle, I thought to teach her about borrowing numbers from neighbors to work a subtraction problem. We were playing with Ellanor working a 24 piece puzzle. She had fit 19 of the pieces together. So, I said, sweeping the remaining pieces away, “How many pieces do we have left? 24-19?” Without missing a beat she responds, “Five.” Startled I ask, “How did you get that?” She launched into an explanation of negative one, adding it in, removing it later, and “Mom it’s five. Isn’t it?” Stunned I said, “Yes, but people less bright than you will work the problem this way…..” Last night, at 7 and a half, she asked if she could stop doing the third grade math on her school’s math game website and do the fourth grade level. YES yes you can.

            But there have been difficulties, too.  If there is a problem that her mind cannot easily figure, she is stopped DEAD in her tracks almost to the point of tears. I have had to cajole, pry, and push effort out of her. I realized that things come so easily that when presented with “needing to work,” she has no idea how to process that. We’ve had to have so many conversations on this point. She finally concedes that she needs to face challenges with the immense ability her mind possesses. Then she can catapult past her mother into the atmosphere. She agreed that this was a good goal. Her determination has been inspiring and just a touch frighteningly impressive.

            So I watch her rise to her own person with awe and gratitude for the gift that God has trusted me with. With humble heart I ask for wisdom and capability for training this person to truly become precisely what she means to be. 

Learning disabled part 2.

             I knew from early on that my experience of Joey was different from what other moms were experiencing. He could not be made happy, well, unless I held him every hour of the day as TIGHTLY as I could. In my post-partum, first-time mom state, I found this exhausting. I wasn’t ready for it and as I looked at my son, I knew he was in pain.

            Clue number 1. He would not latch on to my breast or anything else properly. He lost weight became jaundiced. We spent time in the NICU under UV lamps. The nurse that attended us most was a La Leche league mom with ten children of her own. She and I became very well acquainted with each other during feedings. She grabbed my breast, held my baby to me, and stared in consternation as she had never seen anything like this. The baby could not eat. She brought in a pump. I was horrified by it, but if this was the way to get my baby well, this was what I would do. He could not suck from the bottle. She stared in wonder. This uber-mom of ten that had breast fed each until 3 years, could not get my son to eat. She stayed well past her shift end. Finally she said, “There is no shame in formula, honey Get the faster flow nipples to start.”

            Clue number 2. I could not wrap the child tightly enough in any blanket. I had to nigh on to sew them onto him in a tight burrito to get him to calm down and sleep. (He still cocoons.)

            Clue number 3. Joey was slow to walk and speak, but once he did both, he did not stop either.

            Clue number 4. At a young age, he was hyper focused on wheels, especially the external pistons of train wheels. Yes, yes I do know the “Thomas Train Engine” American and British tv show theme songs. He stayed with Thomas well past the other boys his age leaving the Isle of Sodor. I have also been to every “steamie” train show from here to Ohio. These are fun all up until the whistles blow.

            Clue number 5. Joey still to this day cannot manage loud noises. Now, what you and I consider loud is deafening to him. What HE considers loud is barely above normal sound range to you and me. I found a brand name of small ear plugs that helped immensely. He now navigates crowds with foam in his ears and there are times I envy him. Tied to this issue were socks. Socks caused him physical pain as did heat of any kind. I learned to ignore the comments of little old ladies in grocery stores on 50 degree days. “No, he doesn’t need a coat. Go away.” I found that Kohl’s made shirts without tags and Target has the best knit jammies on the market for children. I learned to sing less loudly. This is Sensory Processing disorder.

            Clue number 6. He was removed from Sunday School at age two for meltdowns over these issues above. Meltdowns are breath taking. You see, the pain that these stimuli causes him pushes him in the panic mode of “Fight or Flight” for some spectrum moms, this means long runs down WalMart aisles after children with wild panic in their eyes. For me it meant getting pummeled on a regular basis by someone in fear for his life. We did therapy for this. Your pediatrician can recommend a good Occupational Therapist to rewire the nervous system. It took 2 years of my life.

            All of it added up to one picture that was as clear as day to me, he needed something more than I could give. I offered all this info to a pediatric psychiatrist and a therapist. We found a balance of meds that give his mind respite enough to handle the necessities of school and social function. What has made this road easier, was that I had struggled with so much of this myself.

            My life was already on the rigid routine that managed mood and ADHD. I already kept things friendly and quiet. We are both on this road to learn how to navigate life together. We go to therapy together. We sit quietly together. I read him stories in dulcet tones with many voices. We understand each other. I know what to show him to make school, and some day, work accessible and doable. God put us together because He knew we would understand each other and help each other and that has been the biggest blessing.

            

Learning Disabled Part1

Oh my life has been marked by the words “Learning Disabled.” My experience of them has been more close to the phrase, “Extreme Pain at School.” I could not sit still. I could not focus on that which was not interesting to me. I had no motivation to listen to that which I already knew from having read a lot. Also, the head knowledge seemed to never quite make it to my fingers the right way. It got lost. Words went missing when I went to write them out I would think them. I would know the spelling, but my fingers went all wrong. Homework was a nightmare. I was bullied.

            ADHD was the starting point. I stood under that banner a long time until, by college, I had mastered its quirks. I HAD to have a sameness about my day a routine that told me what was next and prepared me for the day. I learned that I MUST be in a comfortable place to do homework a desk was painful with parts that made my hand go numb. Music HAD to be playing loudly. But still, my fingers faltered. (Now, while I type, I focus really hard to get every word on the screen.) While this feels counterintuitive to you normals, it was what I needed to do. I graduated on the deans list. Please let your children find the way that they are successful.

            When I got married, I had children. My hormonal-chemical balance shifted and I lost my sense of emotional stability. I have always been touchy, but at this point, I became unreasonable. I saw offense everywhere and then exploded at the smallest of triggers. I would then become extremely depressed. It was when I was having suicidal thoughts, I knew something more had gone wrong. A diagnosis of bipolar came down. I fell back on the need for routine and sameness that had gotten me through college, I prayed. I started taking meds.  I received prayer. I meditated. I took up crochet. I was declared by a Medical Professional to be in remission after 7 years of striving and praying through it.

            I started a writing in a blog called Shepherd’s fish. I was misunderstood. I kept making the same errors of childhood writing. Bad grammar. Bad spelling. Missing words I type things out wrongly. Like saying, “I go store.” My mind thinks, “to the,” but fingers miss it. I was lead by a friend to look up Dyspraxia that is on the Autism spectrum and answered other questions. I hate bright lights, loud and intense parties; and jangling, busy patterns on walls. That is Sensory Processing disorder. These things physically hurt me. I kept reading and I found the definition of dysgraphia. My speech is fine, as you can hear, my writing lacks, as you can see. As I read this page , I started to cry full-on, blubbery tears. I was reading about me. The final piece of the puzzle had clicked into place.

            So now, I have found my voice. I stand with joy and feel like I have a way to be heard and understood in this world. You’ll notice that this blog is entitled part 1. Next blog I will speak how my experiences shaped my ability to parent a boy also on the spectrum. 

Reading a poem.

I found myself with extra time one day (a very RARE occurrence in my life), and as usual, this found me in Barnes and Noble Booksellers reading something utterly random. This day it was a collection of poetry collected by Garrison Keillor. It is simply entitled, "Good Poems." It had been SO LONG since I had sat down and read poetry I thought I would spend my random free time doing that very thing. The book fell open to this poem about community and wisdom in finding our way and our voices. I loved it from the word "GO" and knew I HAD to read it here. I hope you enjoy it. For all you legal eagles, I am not making a single penny on this reading and all the credit can go to William Stafford for writing it. I present to you his poem, "A Ritual to Read to Each Other." (See, the very title tells me I should read it to you.)

If you don't know the kind of person I am

and I don't know the kind of person you are

a pattern that others made may prevail in the world

and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,

a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break

sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood

storming out to play through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,

but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,

I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty

to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,

a remote important region in all who talk:

though we could fool each other, we should consider--

lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,

 or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep,

the signals we give--yes or no, or maybe--

should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.

"A Ritual to Read to Each Other." William Stafford. Printed in "Good Poems" selected by Garrison Kiellor. pg 212 Publisher Penguin House. 2002.

Responsibility

            I like to peruse the “trending” stories on Facebook. Most of it isn’t that interesting. It ranges from absolutely ridiculous movements of ridiculous celebrities to important current events. However, there are names that always catch my eye. Rowling is one of those names. (Like all Potter fans, I keep hoping for more Harry from somewhere)

            Ms. Rowling was upset with Rupert Murdoch for saying on twitter, “Maybe most Moslems [are] peaceful, but until they recognize and destroy their growing jihadist cancer they must be held responsible.” She quipped back, “I was born Christian. If that makes Rupert Murdoch my responsibility, I'll auto-excommunicate.” I raise children that say and do the craziest and embarrassingly public, odd things. I feel the need to stand up and say, “That’s not me!!!”

            While I was mulling over these thoughts, a friend posted a link to a story about a Baptist pastor in New Jersey who punched a child for the purpose of leading him to the Lord. Now, I was raised Baptist and that is not ok. I thought of Murdoch’s words. I do not think that I should be punished for that pastor’s wrong doing, but there is responsibility and accountability. A Christian, such as me, should say something, decry this act of violence and make my voice known to this man. I reposted the story and contacted the church. It was the least, and yet, also the most I could do. If he is determined to be crazy, someone will press charges eventually.

            I thought of the Muslims around the world. There are so many really pleasant ones that there must be public outcry of this appalling behavior. Right?? Why is their outcry not in my “trending” link file? A friend sent me several links and I found this one, here They are upset. They are crying out; they are calling for accountability.

            These acts of violence now transcend what religion these perpetrators are. Globally, something must be done. I hope not even more war. We have not had respite from war for decades now. People are facing third, fourth, or fifth deployments. Would that mean a draft? What of my son? But I get ahead of myself. I hope that all people regardless of religion can stop fishing about for someone to fix this mess and start exposing truths that would begin the process.

Hello!

     I type badly. Truly. I have tried for a decade to do this bloggy thing. I am constantly misunderstood. I am sick of this.
     There are two reasons for this. 1) You cannot hear my tone. My tone while typing is apparently awful. I can type the simple words, "I like peas because peas are tasty." People hear me screaming with dripping judgement, "You PEA HATERS MUST DIE!!!" I have no idea why. This truly was, in my head, a pleasant and simple observation on life. 2) Multiple learning problems in childhood leave me grammatically inept. I make really truly, terrible elementary mistakes. I am working on them but the combination of these issues leaves me reading like a really ignorant, angry person. I am not.
     The reverse is true in person. In person, I have been told that I am well-spoken. Recently, a friend heard my voice and said it was "mellifluous." I was stunned. I had told my friend that when I try to weave the words onto the screen, I get lost. Terribly, deeply lost in translation.
     Now, I have cultivated my voice to be pleasant because Mr. J.T. Eiler of Rossville High School told me I could. But "mellifluous" is such a truly terrific word. Imbedded in all my blogs will be a recording of me reading the blog to you. If you would like to hear my tone and my emotions, click the file and it will play. I was inspired by the book and record combo packs of my youth. "Turn the page when you hear the bell." I loved those sets.
     As to the subject matter, I will wander a bit from motherhood, belief systems, current events and so forth. However, as so much of my life is tied up in children, even current events are thought about in terms of where this world is headed for the kids I now raise. There will be recipes and crochet patterns and odd bits from the tangle of me. As I wish to just type out my inner thoughts, I will record my voice to clarify my ideas as needed for the blog. I promise will not read a recipe for Brunswick Stew to you.
     Enjoy. I hope I have started a new era in blogging. I hope that maybe I can be successful at it. Finally.