Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Duo World

Ever since I can remember, I've hated living in the country. I hated living in a no-name town that barely hit the map. I hated having to drive 20 minutes to the nearest grocery store. I hated having to measure distance in minutes. I couldn't wait to get out of my small town and move on. And when my mothers told me that she always knew her daughter would grow up and move to the "big city," I couldn't have been more proud: that was me all right!

And I did, sort of. I went to college in Pittsburgh. For two years I lived in Mt. Washington on the backside near South Hills Junction. I took the incline (Monongahela, not the Dusquene incline where the fancy restaurants are) from Station Square to the lookout, then walked the 6 blocks past a little ice cream shop, a small hardware store, the CoGo's convenience store where I worked for 1 1/2 years, and down to the old South Hills High School that was closed down, where I lived opposite in a second story apartment made for college kids. I worked at a beer and hot dog place at Station Square for awhile; my first job in Pittsburgh(Jimbo's.) I remember the first day of college and being nervous about being separated from my best friend and roommate. But I made friends quickly and absolutely LOVED the classes.

I remember the first time we walked home with all of our materials and had to stop more times than we could count to catch our breath. This was before we knew we could stop at South Hills Junction and walk up the stairs. Also tiring, but less distance over all...only about 2 blocks walking, just all up hill. The incline way was uphill and then down hill. I remember not knowing what "T" to take home that first day. They all said South Hills or some other name I can't recall and none said "Mt. Washington." Luckily there were some guys from our high school a few years ahead of us who were attending the Art Institute (wish I had chosen that, instead) and knew to tell us all the "T"s went to our stop...the name on the front was just the final destination. (The only one that didn't go to our normal stops was the Allentown "T" and we discovered it stopped near our backyard, so we would take that if we didn't need to be home soon as it went around the mountain instead of through.

I remember driving up McArdle Dr. before my parents knew the back way up Mt. Washington, and seeing the lights of the city from the lookout. I remember the winter day when my Mom and sister came to visit and I brought pizza from downtown near my college and was waiting in the snow for her to pick me up at the lookout and drive home with the cold pizza.

I remember dragging two duffel bags of laundry and a tupperware container of detergent 6 blocks in the sleeting snow to wait over 2 hours while I did the laundry in the laundromat, my first. I remember the first night as we unpacked our dishes and our parents drove home in tears, us in jubilation.

I remember walking across the 9th street bridge for drawing classes. I remember sitting in the PPG plaza drawing people, or in the parks drawing fountains or the jailhouse or the buildings. I remember the way the sun came in the window in our apartment in the afternoon, and the tilt of my drawing desk with my 3rd can of Mountain Dew perched at the corner. The meals of mac-n-cheese, the two hour drives to my parents, the midnight walks home from work, Smithfield bridge, the Liberty Tunnel, the Wood St. "T" station, the parking garage next to the old school, the sounds of lawnmowers and barking dogs on Saturday mornings.

And I remember how alive I felt when I walked on the sidewalks, leaves swirling beneath my feet, or snow melting. I remember the smell of flowers as I walked up the stairs from the junction, and running in the rain to catch a bus. There weren't many things I didn't like.

The few I remember are the discarded pants or condoms at the stairs by the junction, or the strangers asking for my phone number. The man who was peeing on the wall by the river while fishing and I was showing my parents the scenic spot for the first time. And Sundays.

Sundays was always a mixed day for me. I went to a church that by car was 10 minutes away. By bus, about an hour or more. I had to take the "T" to downtown by the McDonalds (Gateway Center, I think, not Steel Plaza). Then I waited for 20 minutes for the "somethingC" bus. While I waited, a perverted old Greek man used to try to feel me up and then sit next to me on the bus. Then I rode 20 minutes to church. After church I waited for 5 to 30 minutes depending on when the sermon ended and the last bus went. Then back in town another 20 minutes for the "T." It was on the bus that I saw the homeless with their shopping carts and bare feet. Asleep on the benches without a blanket. Downtown was shut down on Sundays, and these people came out of the woodwork. And I always felt so down. I still have the idea of delivering blankets to these people.

But those are the only bad memories. The LAST memory of Pittsburgh comes the day we moved. I was sitting in Boom and I's apartment and it was empty. Everything we had was in the vans and trucks and cars, and we were leaving for his parents' house, one room to ourselves. Barely 3 months married, and I was leaving everything I loved behind for hope of a better future.

Now, before I paint the wrong picture, I will admit that after we graduated and moved into Greentree, things changed. I didn't get to see my friends. I had a car and didn't get to ride the buses or the "T"s anymore. I didn't even get to go downtown or buy monthly bus passes, either. I missed all of the above. I knew I didn't want to live downtown with a family, but I missed the business, the sheen of metal and glass, and sidewalks and shadows from tall buildings and nights where the city never turned off. I missed it all. So when we left, most of what I missed was already gone.

But I never wanted to move back to the country. Before Boom, I was planning on moving to Chicago. I didn't want the fields and barns and cows and dirt roads. I admit that the country is beautiful. As I drove to the doctor's office today, I noticed the hills covered with red, yellow, and orange. But I also noticed the rows of corn, hay, alfalfa, rye, and mostly, weeds. I noticed the dilapidated barns, silos and farmhouses. The muddy tractors and barn boots. The rusty trucks and dirt roads with dust all summer and mud the rest of the time.

I know many people find these things comforting, much like they like antiques. But I've never liked antiques. I like the sturdiness and the durability, but not the architectural design or the chipped paint. And my only experience first hand with farming set me dead against the idea of ever doing it for a living.

We rented a house from a small dairy farmer (30 cows.) This guy had chickens, pigeons, guinea hens, peacocks, and tons of other birds. One sheep dog and several barn cats also lived there, besides the rats in the grain bin. That first winter he took a vacation leaving Boom and I to do the milking and such. Now Boom grew up farming and used to love it and the idea of it, so he knew what to do and expect, though the farm wasn't kept up to the standards he was used to. So when a calf was born early and the mom didn't want to nurse it, and there was no pen for the little thing, we had some trouble. Soon it was apparent the calf was sick and Boom gave him an antibiotic shot, while I put a warm blanket over his shivering body. But the net morning when I brought the wanted bottle for him, Boom wouldn't let me near him since he could tell he was dead. I wanted to scream when later I noticed the dog trying to chew on him. It got to the point I couldn't help anymore because around every corner I saw his face and thought his body was there in the hay or manure...but it wasn't. Then add to it the next winter the water froze and I tried giving the cows water one by one all night on New Year's Eve, and then the kitten that got crushed by a cow, and on and on. I just couldn't take it.

So country life doesn't appeal to me. Many people find solace in planting. I hate digging in the dirt, and I can't get anything to grow, anyway. I kill any plant within a ten foot radius of my being. I even tried the first summer at the trailer. None of my herbs came up, and the weeds did better than my garden and we didn't even bother getting most of the produce in that year. This year at the new house Boom tried and a deer ate it before we could get it. Why bother? *sigh*

So country life doesn't appeal to me. I know that the kids have open air. They can explore the woods, and the creeks and the fields. They have space. But I want the museums, the shops (just to look, just for something different), the busses, the "T"s or "L"s or sidewalks. I prefer concrete to dirt, steel to field. And though the sunset in the mountains here is breathtaking, I find the city lights that never go off at night to be just as mesmerizing.

But I find that God has called us here. Or more specifically, Boom, here. And since I didn't feel and strong call in another direction, we are here. And I know God has worked in Boom with his football kids and his classroom kids. The letters, the phone calls, the attitudes (Boom even has his own cheering section as a girl painted his name and high school number on a t-shirt and was shouting his name at games.) I know he loves those guys like his own sons. And he is sad to think the school might close and he's loose them.

But I'm not completely sad. There's a part of me that feels like a gypsy. Always wanting to move on, try something new. See if the next town is better, make new friends. There's a part of me that hopes that somehow God will bring us back to sidewalks and steel.

And yet I feel like somehow I'm betraying those parts of me that believe natural is best...that God's creations is best. That man's inventions only bring pain and suffering with their ease and ability of speed. On one hand I try to raise my kids that way I think Eve must have...birthing at home and nursing when they want to. Sleeping next to them and holding them often. I want them to know what nature is and how God made the earth. But part of me wants the musicals at theaters, the quaint little shop that sells trinkets you can't find anywhere else. The people that are always there.

And I used to be much worse. I used to want the most updated technology there was. I wanted the latest software for my computer, the newest system, etc. If I could, I'd have Tivo, cell phones with cameras, digital cameras, a digital video camera, a DVD burner/recorder.

But at the same time, I have this crazy notion that it wouldn't be that bad to live off the land and be self-sufficient. Make your own flour, milk, butter, chicken, beef, vegetables, fruit, cheese, jams and pickles, smoked meat, etc. I like the IDEA of building your own house or repairing a place up, but the shear work involved makes me light-headed and tired just thinking about it.

So I have in my head two dueling worlds...the all natural one and the technology-driven civilized one. I like SOME of both, but where we are we don't have hardly either of what I REALLY want. The biggest draw to the trailer was the free gas (would've come in real handy this winter) and that I could walk around naked. Since I can't do that as the kids get older, anyways, then the country only offered a break from the rest of civilization...a break I don't really want all that much.

But unless thinks take a drastic turn around, I am stuck here in a town I honestly drove through over a hundred times thinking about the people who live here, "Suckers!" And now I'm one of them. Except unlike most, I don't think this is THE place to be. That this town is okay as is. That I want to live here forever and ever. And yet I might, if that's what God wants.

I just wish I knew why sometimes I have things ingrained in me that have been there since I can remember, but go against what God wants for me. They aren't sinful things, either, just things that don't mesh with where we are in life, that's all. And so I will always wonder if perhaps someday they will be used...these desires for things not so natural.

By the way. I was on my way to Chicago before we started dating. Boom was on his way to Australia, for one reason; it was opposite on the globe from the one place he didn't want to be - here.

And HERE is where we are.

Sunday, September 25, 2005

Loose Threads

Our lives are often referred to in song and poetic verse as being canvases woven with threads. Today I wondered how strong of a weaver I am in my kids' lives, and if others are strong enough to pull out the threads I am so carefully pulling through the loom of their childhood.

I know I am not, nor will I be, the perfect parent. But I am trying to be the best parent I believe I can be. And I know that if nothing else, I am trying to impart to my children those things in life I hold dear, the things I believe to be of utmost importance; the true things in life. I am trying to raise well-rounded, healthy kids with a zeal for life and for learning. With confidence in themselves, in their family, and in God.

But not everyone would choose the same color of threads that I (and my husband) choose. Not everyone would weave the same design that we've chosen. And unfortunately, some may even tug at those precious threads and begin to unravel the very design that we are trying to build...even if not intentionally. And I wonder if it will hold, or if it can be repaired if it ever gets torn.

I think about the opposite reality in many lives. Canvases woven with pain, lies, letdowns. And people try to come and repair with love, kindness, forgiveness. But we remain tattered and town, unable or unwilling to change. If a negative thread is so strong, is it possible that the positive threads I'm weaving will remain just as strong?

I hope so.

Because today, like so many other times when we are together, I wondered what kind of influence my children's' grandparents have over them. I have heard that grandparents are in a unique position to pass on a heritage rich with God's blessings and truths. But what if the grandparents don't pass on blessings, but cursings? How do I protect against that? Will their unhealthy habits, their belief in ungodly things, their misunderstandings of the worthiness of all people...will these unravel the threads that I have already started to weave? Can two hours of time undue hours, days, or months of training and demonstration?

I hope not.

For those wondering, my in-laws aren't your typical in-laws in that they just rub me the wrong way sometimes. They do...but that's not what bothers me. What bothers me is some bad habits, and worse, some wrong beliefs. I won't slam them on here because that's not my point. I want to, in a way. The part of me that is human and wants people to see what I am dealing with. To those raised in a sheltered home like me, some of the stuff I would tell you would literally sound unbelievable. To those raised like my husband, if may sound embarrassingly normal. And to all in between, you might have your opinion, but until you've been there, you'll never really know.

I always thought I could keep my kids away from certain evils for at least much of their childhood. But the moment my daughter was born, I realized that I can never keep her away from the enemy...for they are her family. I would have kept her from language, alcohol, and smoke. I would have kept her away from ideas that go completely against the word of God, I would have kept her out of possible danger from the law and strangers who should never have known her. But I can't. They are her family, and I don't know what to do. I pray. I hope. I don't take her there often. Sometimes I wish they'd go too far and I could draw a line. Sometimes I wish I could close my eyes and make it all go away. Make his family "decent" if not Christian. I'd take the first without the second, knowing the second is always possible. But right now it's a miracle, and a pretty impressive one should it happen.

I thank God daily that my husband changed. But I wonder to God daily why his family is so different. And I prayed today that the threads I'm weaving into my children's lives are strong enough and protected by God so that when the enemy comes in, whether the wolf or the wolf in sheep's clothing, that they will not be able to shred apart their canvases. But instead that maybe they'd see the design being built. The beauty of it, the innocence of it, the truth of it. Maybe they'll wonder about their own tattered canvases. And maybe, just maybe, I can tell them that they, too, can have beautiful threads again. New threads. Different threads. Threads made from the cleanest wool, made pure by the blood of Christ.

I hope so.

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Jack of All Trades, Master of Fun

Well, I've been reading a little Charlotte Mason, a lot of John Holt, and I'm starting to get a feel for what I want as far as homeschooling goes.

I like some of the stuff Charlotte Mason says, but I just don't think, that for now, I want to follow her specifics. In fact, I don't want to follow any specifics. Hence, the UNschooling.

I thought I wanted a curriculum. But when I tried filling out the How To Write A Low Cost/No Cost Curriculum book I got stuck when I got to the part that asked about your children's learning styles. Basically, my kids learn by all styles right now...they haven't got far enough along to see what their strengths are, yet.

But the beauty of unschooling is that no matter what age (even me!) you can learn just about anything by doing whatever (within the limits of reason, of course. My kids will not be watching veggie tales 24/7....maybe only 3/)

And here's the really cool part. I've always known that I know a little about a lot of thing, and I've always wanted to know more about everything. Which makes me THE PERFECT UNSCHOOLING TEACHER FOR MY KIDS! I want to have fun...it's almost my motto (ask my high school friends who weren't allowed to touch my toys...or heck, look in my [yes, MY] toy box and see all my childhood toys that I've kept.)

I love researching, I love finding answers! I just can't wait until the answers involve more than, "He was a catipillar, then turned into a butterfly..." "No, Mommy, he wasn't a catipillar, he was a WORMY!" (from SpongeBob episode: "Wormy")

Anyway, I'm probably more excited than my kids will be...I can't wait to order microscopes, binoculars, gyroscopes, make flower presses, kaleidoscopes, etc. I can't wait! And all in the name of education...go figure!


On another note, now that Rugger is walking, he must think it's time to learn more important things. Namely how to unroll toilet paper. And tonight he learned how to flush. Just wait till he puts the two together...it makes a mothers heart almost...stop ;)

But Boom is asleep, or maybe not so, waiting for the warmth of my body beside him. Funny how we both can't sleep as well without the other, though we both enjoy our freedom of space and would LOVE for a king size bed...Oh, well.

Good night.

Monday, September 19, 2005

My Daughter, The Doctor

Pumpkin is at that adorable stage where cute things come out of her mouth at random moments, and if you don't catch it, you're missing comedy that ranks right up their with the best of them.

Today she was playing doctor. At times she's the patient, like the other night when driving home from church and she tells me she's not feeling well. I ask her what hurts and she tells me, "The apple in my tummy." Now, being the good mother I am, I did not feed her any healthy apples that day, or any day near that day, and so I ask, "You ate an apple, did you?" She says, "Yes, a red apple. And a green apple." Then she tells me her own advice for the malady: "I think I need to sleep, rest, and watch T.V."

Or on Saturday, when she told me she couldn't eat the blueberry in her pancake (homemade whole wheat with banana and fresh blueberries...see, I'm not always a bad mom!) because, "I think it will make me sick." I couldn't help it, I smiled at the little stinker.

But today, she was the doctor. And Rugger was the patient. As she "examined" him with a headband/stethoscope, she okayed his forehead, his back, and his tummy. But I had to laugh when he bent over and she placed the instrument on his little behind, then proclaimed, "Your butt, is fine." in the most serious of voices a little almost 3 year old can muster.

It's moments like these that keep me going...:)

Friday, September 16, 2005

In the Name of Education

I drove home tonight from our first win against our oldest rival, and I had the silly feeling of being safe on my home turf that was rightly defended. Last year this game was played in the mud, and the players ended the after game with fists after the opponents' coach ordered his team to "take care of those *%$#@ kids!" because our kids were on their field sliding in the mud (which WAS pretty stupid on our kids' behalf.) Anyway, we won tonight and no one got violent this time. I guess some parents thought the last-second touchdown was unsportsman like on our behalf, but they probably didn't see their kid punch ours in the stomach repeatedly during the game, and they sure didn't hear their junior high coach yell profanities at the kids after half time (and then tell my DH, the head coach, that he'd take him on right there in the parking lot....I mean, come on!)

But all that was only to lead into my real thoughts tonight. Because as I felt that silly safe feeling, I also felt great sadness, because this school may not be around for very long. And unfortunately, it's the best school in the district.

The problem began several years ago. Some time, for some reason (I wasn't hear; I don't know) our three elementary schools and high school joined the Warren County School District and we became one of five schools in the same district. There are several problems with this. Basically, Warren County isn't exactly ahead of the times. In fact, it's just a lot of old money that doesn't want any change. People get jobs that pay the same 20 years later as they did upon hiring. There are fewer office jobs in this town than spiders in my home. Manual labor is, after all, a very good way of keeping the people where you want them - poor and happy with even the smallest of changes.

So this big district has one "big" town that does everything backwards. And I do mean it. They tore down a bridge, a rather important one that led from the center of town to the hospital, and didn't rebuild for 2 years because they mis-budgeted. It's not surprising then, that this town has problems budgeting for their schools.

But wait...they acquired Eisenhower school district years ago. And wouldn't you know, it's now the fastest growing population, and most of the new residents have plenty of money in their pockets and want to live in the country. Well, hey, let's use the money for our "city" school, for lights on our field, for a new field altogether built over the oil refinery waste...how convenient. Then let's shut down 10 schools in two years.

Yes, 10 schools in two years. Most elementary, all important to the kids and parents who attended there.

The newest was Lander Elementary...the school my kids would have gone to had I not chosen to homeschool, and had they not sold it for $20,000 to a local family who lives there now. My husband graduated from there. It's one of his few good school memories. But they took it away and split the kids between the two remaining schools, only one of which they improved and enlarged (nothing like distinguishing between the rich and the not so...)

One of the high schools was closed, and the parents opened a charter school this year, doing very well. And one other school sits in the center of a large target, wondering when they, too will be wiped clean off the public education map.

Eisenhower. The farming town school. The one with, if you care, which I don't, but the disctrict claims to, has the highest test scores of the county. The one with a real community spirit and concern. The one that kids chose to drive to rather than being bussed to their closest school. And unfortunately the one that hasn't been looked at in years from a financial maintenance perspective.

Last year Boom kind of planted a seed in his students telling them how easy it would be for the district to get rid of us. The kids panicked and told their parents that Eisenhower was doomed. The parents had heard similar rumors from higher up than my Boom, and a meeting was called. They acknowledged that it had been a consideration, but that they weren't planning on doing so anymore. (Yeah, like they would have said anything different with hundreds of angry parents there.)

So for the first time in 3 years a maintenance guy comes and fixes fountains, says scaffolding that had been there for 2 years is illegal, etc. Proof that maybe they are taking these parents seriously and will keep Eisenhower open to please the masses (the masses that pay the taxes that go to their shiny and completely upkept school and field.)

And then they tried to raise money this year with pay to park or pay to play. Pay to play was shut down, but pay to park was passed, at $200 per person for the year. Twice the amount a college student pays for a year. This, too, though, was eventually revoked as parents and kids protested.

And then Hurricane Katrina hit. And now they are claiming that because they didn't raise their expected $80,000 from the pay to park, combined with raised energy costs, they now have a $800,000 budget dilemma, and I quote "are open to ideas from the public." There are holding meetings next week so that when they DO decide what to do, they will be able to say, "At least we gave you a chance to offer input." Which they won't listen to, anyway.

No, as the newspaper said, in the opinion of the newspaper, there are too many teachers for too few students in too many schools. They will start by removing "unneeded" things like extracurricular activities. Then they will shut down more schools and get rid of more teachers.

Which will leave us with more students per teacher in less schools...which to anyone with half a brain equals less quality learning and less capable teachers in too cramped buildings. Let alone the idea that they actually want people to move into the Warren area...I wonder where they think they'd put all THOSE students?

And I noticed the paper once again omitted an important fact: The administrators in our county earn a comfy six digit salary, much higher than Erie schools. Our teachers in this same county are at the lowest of the schools in the area, which means that the gap between administrators and teachers is the biggest of all the NorthWestern PA schools....and yet this never hits OUR paper (it's been in the Erie paper at least twice.)

So if our administrators really cared about our children's education...don't you think they could give up some of that ridiculously high salary to help them out? I'm sure between them all (and they haven't lost any jobs despite the decreasing school numbers and the teacher firings) they could come up with $800,000.

But that's not what it's about, really, is it. It's not about the kids. It should be, but it won't be. It will be in their name, and their the ones affected most, but it's about the money. It always has been.

And I wonder if tonight I saw one of the last games played on a lonely field of camaraderie, community, and friendly competition. I wonder if I heard one of the last bands to play from a school that has meant so much to so many people, and I can't count the number of times I heard of people purposely coming to this school over the one next to their home. I wonder if I drove home for one of the last times feeling like I belonged to a community that am proud of, despite my not wanting to move here originally.

I hope not. But many people are already assuming as much. And in the end, it's the kids who will suffer, all in the name of big "E" Education.

Monday, September 05, 2005

Dreams or Delusions

I wish I knew sometimes the difference between my own thoughts, and those the Lord places in my head.

Sometimes it's easy. If it's a sin...it came from me. If it's a commandment, it came from God. But all the inbetweens...those I'm not always sure of.

I have always been a people person. I was the kid who loved being in the church nursery and didn't want to leave. I was the child who did my homework in whatever room my parents were in and moved if they moved, leaving the desk in my room upstairs to collect dust and cobwebs. Once I got to highschool I was the one to invite my friends to the Christian skate nights and to Bible quiz meets, and they all piled into my parent's mini-van, often ending up in my bedroom for a girls' sleepover.

I was never what you might call popular. But I was accepted by almost everyone, and fit in in an unobtrusive manor. I always had a few people to hang out with.

Until now.

Even when we got married and moved up here the first time, we didn't really make any "real" friends. But in Edinboro, we had two other couples, one with a young daughter, who we really were close to. But moving back here for Pumpkin's birth, and once again no "real" friends.

By "real" I mean someone who doesn't just come when you invite them, but who invites you. Someone who doesn't wait for you to call them, but they call you just as often. Someone who might "save a seat" for you. Looks forward to your company and wouldn't consider a party without inviting you.

And we don't have that...either one of us. Oh, we have friends. We have people we like talking to, and for that matter whom we'd love to BE "real" friends. But they all have a habit of not calling back, or always saying they'll call, and not.

And I just can't figure out what it is. I don't buy the "they have kids and they're busy theory." Because so do we and I'd do anything to have a "real" friendship. More than once I inconvenience myself and Pumpkin to meet two other Mom friends who had two or more kids. And then when I had Rugger I hoped that they'd at least come my way SOME of the time. But they didn't even come to see me at all. The time I needed them the most...after all the hours I spent at their homes...past supper times, past bed times, through nap and lunch times. With a child who was shy or even frightened sometimes. After all that they didn't even come by once when I was alone in a new home with a new baby and my husband away at his new job. Not once.

And I wonder if it's us, then. And I wish I knew. Because I believe I was meant to be a people person, as was Boom.

We were class clowns, people drawn to both of us. People love hearing our stories, our tales, our exaggerations and bluntness. And, our down-to-earth-ness. We understand human-ness and we don't run away from it.

As a couple, we understand burping and farting and sweat aren't always romantic, but their part of being intimate in the most basic sense of letting one another be ourselves. We don't run from all things natural...we let it be. And we are connected in ways some couples would barely even understand, because this allows all our other forms of communication to open up more freely as well.

And it works with other people, too. I'm very good at dropping all pretense and letting you see the nitty-gritty. I'll tell you my worst bad habit so you don't feel so bad about yours. I'll tell you about my daily struggles so you don't feel you are not normal with yours. And I allow you to live a little bit freer because of it. THIS is what makes me a good people person.

And I've often wondered what God wanted me to do with this gift. I didn't even know it had a name until I did a workshop at a previous church, but I found out it's called "hospitality." And once I knew what that meant, I understood that I fit it perfectly. But now what to do with it?

I have often dreamed of having lots of people over to our house...not for showing the house off, because, really, there's nothing to show, but for conversation, company. I don't have room, and it's not always clean, but I don't mind. I'd let you in anyway.

I've had dreams of opening a camp for kids...I've always wanted to impact people's life in some way. Impart to them the joy I know of letting yourself be human. That we all make mistakes, it's okay. But God loves us anyway and we can still live for Him.

And my most recent dream is to maybe start a women's group with my clay. How, I don't know. Whom? Whoever would come, though that's my fear...that no one would come. But my dream is that we could be united like women of old...conversing and sharing and uniting as only women can. In other cultures women work together daily, sharing in the tasks of homemaking and childrearing. I want to be like that. I was MADE to live like that. But I'm stuck here in America where most women can't even be in a club or group together because we all have our defenses up and we get hurt so quickly. I know...I'm one of them.

But that's my dream...or my delusion, I don't really know. But think of it...women, of all ages and walks of life, together, hands dirty and hearts hungry for companionship. As our hands work out our feeling in the clay, we can open our hearts with our words. And go home happy and with a piece of art from our own soul.

And I even thought about the victims from Katrina. I wondered if there's anyway I can offer my home to a woman out there. I don't have much. I could offer money, but that's so impersonal. But I have a room. I have a futon. I have blankets and some food. And I have an ear. And maybe in the process, I could let go of my petty worries because hers are so much greater. And maybe my life can distract her from her own losses, and she can get on her own feet again.

But I don't know. This would obviously take prayer and wisdom. And part of me wonders if it's just a delusion, or is it a planted dream?

Friday, September 02, 2005

When Words Aren't Enough

That can apply to many people. To those loosing loved ones. To the victims of the tragedies in the South. And in a small way, but significant to us, to tonight's game. You see, Boom lost his first game, again.

Last year he wasn't ready. He underestimated their size and talent. This year he didn't. This year he tried to prepare...

I knew when Boom left before 6AM this morning that I wouldn't see him until after midnight. I asked one of the football moms to call and let me know how things were progressing so I wouldn't be so nervous all evening wondering what kind of mood Boom would be in when he got home. She called at the end of the first quarter and it wasn't good. But when she called at half time I told her she didn't need to call me again unless a huge turnaround happened. It was 41-7.

It's not like our opponent isn't worthy. They were District 10 champions last year. But the thing is, Boom has been focusing on this team for the last two MONTHS. He's poured over more game films than I care to count. He hasn't even LOOKED at the other games, yet. He knows he can win those if they try. But he wanted to win the one no one thought they could win. And he wanted to beat the team they'd have to beat if they were to get a District Title this year.

Some men can be comforted with words and kisses. Mine can't. And even if I can get him to come to bed instead of analyze the film with should's and shouldn't's...he'll be faced with it when he wakes up to the front page of the sports section.

I prayed all day for him. I so wanted to talk to him, to wish him luck one last time. I knew how much this meant to him. I just wish I could make it all better, somehow.

The Mom who called me told me her son, this being his first varsity game, messed up his first snap and it led to the first opposing touchdown. But he redeemed himself with a second good snap, and my Boom shook his hand. She said that's what makes him a good coach. I smiled, because I already knew.

I'm so proud of him. And I know he knows that. But just as he thinks I'm beautiful, it's another thing entirely for me to BELIEVE it. And that is his problem when it comes to his work. Whether teaching or coaching, he needs to prove to himself that he is good, and tonight is a HUGE setback to that.

Not that he won't work through it eventually, though this weekend will be filled with more downtime and sighs than elation, obviously. And I need to give him that space and time. God knows (and I mean that!) how often he lets me have my moods and rants.

Even today I was contemplating the fact that I wish I hadn't been born; that my kids would be better with a better mother, and no one else has benifitted from me in a life and death way. And even Boom's salvation could have come about eventually if someone else had told him.

And I know that's not true. I do have worth, though at times I can't see it. And he's the same way. Why is our self worth so often based on things we see and do instead of the one who created us? A Rembrandt would be the same if it was not called thus, but because it IS called thus, it is made valuable.

And we are GOD'S workmanship, created in Christ Jesus....

And yet here we are feeling as small as pond scum...

And I just wish I knew what to say to make it all feel better.