Author: AR

I value creativity, respect, and humility. I desire to love all people well... sometimes that even includes my kids. I would be nothing without an authentic faith. I did win the Purdue racquetball championship and almost that badminton doubles finals (rats). I love my iPad, pod, and always nearby doodle pad. I also have a special fondness for Southeast Florida, special needs kids, and the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band.
Posted on

privacy (guest writer #10)

“What’s the big deal?”

This is the response I hear most often when broaching the subject of privacy and the whole Snowden affair.

 

“My life is an open book. I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of, so I don’t really care who knows what I say or do.”

 

That may be true, but is that really the point?

 

Two of my children living in my house have a bevy of electronic devices (i.e. cell phone, iPods, e-readers, computers, etc.) One is 14 years old and the other is 22.

 

Now, for the 14-year old, we have total access. We know her passwords, we spot check text messages and emails, have friended her on Facebook, and look over her shoulder when she is online. It is not that we distrust her, but she is a child and still under our protection. Our job as a parent is both to keep her safe and to help her navigate through the good and bad of communicating electronically.  Whether or not you have set up the same rules for your teenager, you probably understand why we do what we do. We know that minors have yet to acquire the wisdom, life-experience, skills and discernment needed to live independently. In other words, children need parenting.

 

On the other hand, if we were to engage in this same level of involvement with our 22 year-old, you would say that we were over-bearing, over-reaching, over-protective, and, well, just wrong.

 

Why?

Because he is adult.

 

And as an adult, our gut tells us that he has some rights. These rights include the right to privacy, the right to expression, the right to his own beliefs, the right to not have unwarranted searches of his property and possessions, the right to protect himself and his property from invasion, and the right to be treated as innocent until proven guilty. If some of these sound familiar, it might be because our founding fathers guaranteed these rights in the amendments of the United States Constitution.

 

So what is the big deal about Snowden’s revelation that our government is actively collecting and storing every single electronic communication that you create?

 

Is it that our government no longer considers its citizens as independent adults? Are we seen by the government as children needing care and supervision? Do we want the people in our government to view themselves as responsible to oversee its citizens, or as public servants that work for and represent a free people?  And, do we as a people want our citizens to view themselves as responsible, self-governing, capable adults?

 

I think the big deal is in the answers to these questions.

 

Respectfully,

Sharon

 

Posted on

“back then” (guest writer #9)

My grandma owned a tiny neighborhood grocery store in the hills of the Allegheny mountains, and I loved to visit during those long unhurried days of summer. My grandfather had died when my mom was ten, so it fell to my grandma to keep the family afloat financially and she opened up and ran that store for almost thirty years. I found her store fascinating; she sold penny candy, Hershey’s ice cream, soda pop by the bottle and neighbors would stop in to pick up the newspaper and milk and sit down at her counter for a chat. I perched on a stool at the far end of that long burnished wood counter and half-listened to their conversations, and when I grew bored, I went outside to find a cousin or a book to read while perched in a tree.

 

To me times were simple. T.V. was generally boring, since we only had three stations and if you were lucky, you had cartoons on a Saturday morning. A house had one or two telephones that ate money if you wanted to call anyone long-distance, so you can be sure my mom wasn’t checking on me every day. Fast food had not made its way to my grandma’s town, so you couldn’t rush off to grab a burger and fries. If I wanted some greasy food — and what kid doesn’t — I trundled up the stairs to my aunt’s kitchen and she happily fried chicken and french fries (just peeled) in Crisco.  I woke in the mornings to my Uncle John sitting at my grandma’s table for a cup of coffee before heading to work, and I fell asleep with windows opened wide to catch the lilac-scented breezes and the ghost stories grandma could conjure up.

 

Did I ever get bored?  Yes, all the time, but I knew better than to say it, for the moment a kid claimed boredom, they were handed a chore or two, since there were always dishes to wash or dusting or weeding to do.

 

My mom and grandma would hang the clothes out on the clothesline to dry and the crackle and fresh smell of the sheets could not be matched by any fabric softener’s scent. Before the fitness craze obsessed the nation, we would take hike up the mountain to pick flowers and put them on grandpa’s grave, and I suppose much of the outdoors work and even inside cleaning burned a bunch of calories. I don’t recall things being sanitized to death, so we didn’t feel as if the house had to be party perfect before a neighbor could venture over for a cup of coffee or dinner. And the entertainment back then rivaled “The Voice.” Someone would drift over to the piano and start playing requests (and no matter where you went, a person could play), and others would start singing. And on my grandma’s house wide porch? I would swing out there, transfixed by the lightning bugs and sing, oblivious to any listening ears.

 

I’m not saying I’m averse to clothes dryers and dishwashers and computers or cable TV. I just wish there were a balance between the ways things used to be and today; a melding of the best of both worlds. I suppose it’s natural to look back at your childhood and think it was great, but I’m striving for more here. Do we lead balanced lives? Are we endlessly rushing around? Do we need to be relentlessly entertained? Or do our kids have to be blissed out happy most of the time? I’m not pointing fingers for the blame lies at my doorstep (albeit neatly swept), also.

 

I give in and let my kid play video games not only on the Xbox now but on his phone. I have over 800 Facebook friends, and let’s face it, no one can possibly keep up with that many people. I skim through the cable listings and proclaim that nothing is on. But I love my Swiffer; it’s much easier than a mop, and fast food saves me at least twice a week. So what gives? Why do I wait for vacation to unplug and reconnect with my family? Why do I make these to do lists that read like something off of Pinterest? I want to make homemade strawberry jam.  I want to make it from the berries that I picked from the field. I want to sit out on our new patio on these warm summer evenings rather than wilt away in the air conditioned comfort of my house. But I don’t seem to quite make it.  The days fill up with carpools and errand running and really running (for fitness sake) and before I know it, the day is gone.

 

I’m using this as a sort of therapy session for me, and I hope it helps you. I think making boundaries around our time is a good idea. Setting aside some time for reflection and daydreaming makes sense. A woman told me last week how she took a walk outside in her new neighborhood filled with beautiful yards and no one was out. She asked me where everyone was. Inside? I don’t know about you, but something about fresh air and outside makes me feel better if not good. Should we stroll out of our comfort zones? Try connecting in a meaningful way with someone else. Not in a quickly worded email or post, but over coffee or on the phone, and not while we pass away the time driving. Sit down in your favorite chair and focus on the talk. The difference is noticeable.

 

Thanks for letting me sort this out. I wish I could hear what you remember from “back then.” What do you miss that you want to recreate in your life now? Me? I would find a house with a big porch swing and watch the fireflies before autumn closes in. And maybe sing a little, too.

 

Respectfully,

DEP

Posted on

the listener (guest writer #8)

If you read The Intramuralist often, you know she has a voice that is passionate about the need to listen… to be respectful… to be non-judgmental.  Perhaps she inherited some of her grandfather’s DNA, for without the benefit of Facebook, he lived the same passion, face-to-face instead.  Let me introduce you to this Listener.

 

In a small town there are two people who “know the scoop” about what is happening when, where, and with whom.  No, it is not that they gossip. Rather, they offer a listening ear and closed mouth to their clientele.  They are encouragers, not judges.  So despite the qualifications of the two local pastors in the Minnesota town of my upbringing, Archie, the barber, and Herb, the bartender, were the confidantes, though they never hung out their shingles.  Herb was my dad, and since people drink a beer more often than they get a haircut, he “worked” overtime.

 

Now I can’t say that as a teen, I was particularly impressed when a customer came in for the coffee I served, but seemed more interested in conversation with my dad in the corner booth.  I knew Dad enjoyed people, and I just passed it off as his friendly attitude.  There was Blanch who needed to join AA, Hank who lost his job, and Herman who was depressed.  But then I discovered friends of mine came to see him too… Jo who was heartbroken over Bob’s rejection, Eddie who was leaving for the Army, Merle who felt she was a disappointment to her parents.  Even after I left for college, they still came to see him.  They sent him cards when they traveled; they called just to say hello; they brought their new spouse to meet him; they came to call at his funeral. With more maturity, I came to realize that Dad knew the importance of people.  His concern and interest were authentic.  His insights wise.  He could be trusted with what was entrusted to him.  He knew love listens.   Would we all seek to listen as my dad?  … and his granddaughter… listening that is respectful and non-judgmental.

.

And oh yes, the pastors came to see him too… knocking at the back door to visit… and knowing they could buy a six-pack without anyone else knowing.

 

Thanks, Intramuralist, for the opportunity to share.

 

Respectfully,

DDL

Posted on

prayers of our forefathers (guest writer #7)

On April 30, 1789, in the nation’s capital, George Washington was sworn in as the first U.S. President. In his Inaugural Address, the first words ever spoken by a president to this country, he proclaimed:

“The propitious smiles of Heaven can never be expected on a nation that disregards the eternal rules of order and right which Heaven itself hath ordained.”

Upon completing the speech, Washington walked a few blocks down the street, leading America’s first senators, representatives, and cabinet to a place called St. Paul’s Chapel. They prayed together, asking for God’s protection on the new nation.

America is a different country today. There are those who think our current course risks disastrous consequences. Others think those people are crazy.

I am one of those people. And I’m not crazy. My concerns are financial, moral, and spiritual…

The financial issue is straightforward. We are drowning our children in an ocean of red ink. The national debt exceeds $16,871,725,000,000. Economists argue about whether the economy will crash at 80 or 90% of Gross Domestic Product, the size of the entire economy. We currently stand at 76%.

At that point, the government will have no choice:  turn on the presses and start printing money. That inescapably results in hyperinflation. Let me describe how that works. There are currently about $3 trillion dollars in circulation. If the government prints another $3 trillion to make a small payment on the debt, everything will double in price. So if gas costs $4/gallon, it will cost $8. If they print $17 trillion to pay off the entire debt, the money supply increases by a factor of 6.7, and gas will cost over $25, $400 to fill a 15-gallon tank.

People old enough to remember recall this is exactly what happened in pre-Nazi Germany. Their economy in shambles from World War I, they printed money, hyperinflation ensued, and there were vivid pictures of people taking wheelbarrows of money to the store to buy groceries. This is what led a nation to turn itself over to the rule of Adolf Hitler.

This is the path we are on, to say nothing of Obamacare and Social Security. Continuing to kick that can down the road with zero hope of financial solvency once baby boomers hit retirement may be the most unconscionable sin a generation has ever passed on to its children.

But there is plenty of sin beyond that. Any sense of moral standards has eroded in our society. Media once considered pornographic are now broadcast into our homes. Drugs are being legalized. Each week brings news of yet another senseless shooting. Over 40% of children are now born out of wedlock, and the number of abortions exceeds the entire populations of Canada and Australia combined. People took to the streets celebrating the redefinition of marriage from what it has meant for all of human history.

It is worth noting that the founding fathers provided processes for deciding important questions such as these last two. But advocates of minority positions bypassed the democratic process through the Supreme Court. In spite of the Constitution being silent on both issues, 5 of 9 people dressed in black robes overruled the legislative will of 300 million. The comparisons to Hitler are again appropriate.

Finally, there are spiritual overtones to all of the above. I’ve studied biblical prophecy about the end times. If anyone says they know when this is happening, they are wrong. But I believe that if every prophecy about the first coming of Christ was fulfilled in exact detail, then so will every detail of the Second Coming. These prophecies include ten nations coming together, led by a charismatic leader who will first befriend, then declare war against Israel.

One thing is crystal clear:  in those days, America will no longer be a superpower. If any nation declared war against Israel today, we would put a stop to it. Since such circumstance is foretold, we must no longer have that capability in those times.

Here is my point. I don’t know if America’s demise is imminent or 1000 years away. But the problems we currently face have the potential to bring us down. Spending ourselves into more debt than we could ever hope to repay and a moral decay that can only result in anarchy or tyranny could someday leave the world wondering about our country no differently than the Roman Empire. But the root of the problem is turning our backs on the God our forefathers entrusted with the protection of the nation.

Let me not leave you without hope. Second Chronicles 7:14 says, “If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.” I take great comfort from the fact that the solution to this problem does not require me to change the mind of anyone who disagrees. It only requires those of us who agree to start acting like it.

Let me close with a history lesson. Washington, D.C. did not become the capital of the United States until 1800. The first capital was Philadelphia, and under the Continental Congress and Articles of Confederation, the capitals included Baltimore, Princeton, Annapolis, and Trenton. When George Washington became the first President in 1789, the capital was New York City. Washington was inaugurated in Federal Hall, and he walked down Wall St. as he led the Congress to St. Paul’s Chapel.

The building in which the first government committed our country’s future to God’s protection is located directly adjacent to Ground Zero. St. Paul’s Chapel sat untouched, despite every building around it being damaged or destroyed on 9/11.

“The propitious smiles of Heaven can never be expected on a nation that disregards the eternal rules of order and right which Heaven itself hath ordained.”

Respectfully,

MP

Posted on

being in relationship with each other (guest writer #6)

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”  — Mary Oliver

 

We could debate the issue all day… and I have done so on occasion.  But honestly, when people believe, deep down in their hearts that homosexuality is a sin, I’ve learned that the debate goes nowhere.  When we already have our minds made up, that’s that.  End of story.

 

When the conversation hits that wall, when conversation breaks down, that’s when I most want to invite people to the church I pastor so they could meet some of our members face to face.  Let’s not talk about issues; let’s meet real people.  Let’s invite God’s children to look each other in the eye, to behold someone made in God’s own image.  Let’s invite everyone to the Table, or any table for that matter, to break bread with one another and pray, just as the early church did.  See, I pastor a Christian church which prayerfully discerned in the 1990s that they were called to a profound outreach ministry:  to declare themselves a church open to and affirming of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered people.  For nearly two decades, the folks of this little church have extended an extravagant welcome to people who have been rejected at other churches, told they were going to hell, sent away to rehabilitation camps, rejected by their families and communities of faith… or at best, told they were welcome, but must come to terms with their sinful ways and change.

 

That “best” option isn’t better at all, by the way.  There’s a confusing, internalized, self-hatred that grows when you’re told, repeatedly, that you are damaged goods, while simultaneously being told you are created in God’s image.  I’ve sat in our sanctuary with sobbing men and women who wandered in off the street because the rainbow pride flags hanging from our building beckoned them in.  For so many, they sit there and sob, awash in mercy, amazed by God’s grace, astounded that there is a church where the promise of their baptism is affirmed — you, yes, YOU are God’s child and God is well pleased with you — for that matter, we’re all well pleased with you.  They’re shocked to find a church that will not closet nor condemn them all the more.

 

When I think of inviting some of these folks I’ve debated with (or stopped debating with) to church, I can’t help but think of the Gospel text about Jesus and the disciples walking through a field on the Sabbath.  Both Mark’s and Matthew’s version come to mind, for differing reasons.

 

In Mark, Jesus responds to the letter-of-the-law keepers by helping them understand how laws ought, and ought not, to be used: the Sabbath was made for people, not the other way around.  The people were hungry and we are not supposed to work on the Sabbath — these two things are true.  For Jesus, it comes down to people’s need.  Hunger trumps rule following.  Human necessity trumps the letter of the law.  I can’t help but think, if folks who are so wedded to their interpretation of the letter of law regarding homosexuality would come spend a Sunday at my church, for them, then, it could be like walking through the field with Jesus.  Meeting the lesbian couple that’s been together for 43 years, talking with the gay man who’s rediscovered his faith again because he’s affirmed instead of shunned, listening to the young female couple make plans for their wedding at the church, standing side by side with straight allies who make up over half the congregation — I can’t help but think this could be a revelation: human need trumps the letter of the law here, too.

 

And for folks for whom this particular walk with Jesus through the fields falls flat, maybe Matthew’s version of the story would come alive.  Here, Jesus surmises that mercy should rule.  Don’t sacrifice the guiltless, the guiltless who are judged by some to be guilty.  Let mercy rule.

 

But, who knows, really.  Who knows what would happen?  This blog post is, after all, more talk.  And as I said in the beginning, talk doesn’t go very far when we’ve shut the doors.  The God who couldn’t stay away from us, the God who couldn’t be aloof, but had to come to earth, walk around in our skin, know what it was like to hold a hand, wipe a tear, laugh, and feel his heart break, that God, the God we know in Jesus the Christ, comes knocking on the shuttered doors of our hearts, and beckons us to be in relationship with each other — real, human, relationship.  After all, when we love somebody, we see the face of God.  Maybe if we got to know each other, we might find a way to love each other and God’s face would be revealed.  So, know that you are welcome any time.  If you are one of those folks who just can’t fathom how gay people could be created good as gay, come to church.  Any time.

 

Respectfully,

LRM

Posted on

the perfect parenting guidelines… do not exist (guest writer #5)

An old friend likes to say, “I was the perfect parent – until I started having children.”

 

You know the story. The idealistic 20-something sees children acting up in the grocery store and thinks to herself, “I will never let my children act like that.” And then, as if to mock her own words, her children became THOSE children.

 

The one guarantee I can share with you is that there is no guarantee – no manual for raising the perfect child. It does not exist. Why? Because the perfect child does not exist. He’s just a myth.

 

I read them: Those books about raising children. Meant to give you the formula for The Perfect Child, those books only deepen the guilt.

 

I read them, looked at my own children, and the guilt deepened. I must be doing it all wrong. My children not only opposed those perfect parenting formulas, they stomped, shredded, chewed, hit one another with, and tore into little bits those guilt-inducing instructional books.

 

And my guilt grew exponentially. This is all my fault. What am I doing wrong? Why can’t I do this better? Make me a solid list of rules I can follow so these children can become perfect (and so I, by association, can become the Perfect Parent). No such list ever appeared. But boy, the publishing houses have tried!

 

And then I encountered grace. While I was so bent on following the law, I failed to see the truth of grace: that I could never do it right. That they would never become perfect. That every day, in every way, we all fail. And at that moment of realization, law in all its sternness became balanced with grace in all its sweetness.

 

That I can never match up to the obligations of the law is abundantly clear. In his essay “The Chronicle of an Undeception,” Michael Bauman says, “The tragic vision of life arises from the fact that we are flawed — deeply, desperately, tragically flawed — and we cannot be trusted. We are broken at the soul; our defect is life wide and heart deep.” I am in desperate need of One whose perfection can fill all those empty places of failure.

 

And what I so desperately needed to teach my children was that they, too, were flawed and needed the sweet sacrifice of a Savior to cancel all that. Once I – and my children – can learn, really internalize, that truth, then redemption can take place.

 

You see, I was trying to impose a set of laws on myself and on my family, and by sheer force of will make them abide by these rules, these formulas.

 

But what all those parenting books never told me was the ugly truth. Sets of rules imposed upon sinners won’t save them from their sins. The rules (or laws) only deepen the sense of failure, as the book of Romans so beautifully tells us.

What I need, and what my children need, is the truth of the gospel, taught daily. Only then can we be free from the guilt, the shame, the failure.

 

Did I then become the Perfect Parent? Not at all. I still fail, and I continue to fail, and so do my children. But at least now I know why I have failed and how to address it. I rest my failures at the foot of the cross, thank my Savior for covering me with His redeeming grace, and live to fail another day. Where that thought may have discouraged me mightily 10, 15, 20 years ago, now I can smile, because I know I am forgiven, covered, and guilt-free.

 

Thanks be to God, through Jesus Christ our Lord!  (See Romans 7: 1-25)

 

Respectfully,

Shaunna

Posted on

hiding from U.S. government drones (guest writer #4)

[This post was transcribed from an encrypted handwritten note sent to me in an envelop without a return address.]

 

Dear Editor-in-Chief of the Intramuralist,

 

I am honored to be on your list of potential guest bloggers, but I will have to respectfully decline your invitation to write a post this year. Sorry.

 

I need to decline because for the first time in my life, I am too afraid to share my thoughts. In the past, I could have freely expressed my conservative positions without the threat of reprisal. Now, I need to remain silent because I am scared that the Obama administration will send out thugs, Chicago Style, from the IRS, FTC, FCC, EPA, NSA, FBI, CIA or DOJ to target me and take away everything that I have worked so hard to earn. The current IRS, AP and NSA scandals substantiate the plausibility or even the probability of this.

 

Our country has changed in five short years thanks to the progressive Obama administration, corrupt or compromised politicians, overly complicated tax laws, a complicit media and an uninformed populace. President Obama says that there is nothing “there there.” I believe that there is something “there there,” so I have to regretfully say no to the invitation to write on your blog.

 

Not only that, but I have gone completely off the grid:

 

  • I have cancelled my Verizon smartphone with GPS that shows who I talked to and where I went.
  • I have canceled my credit cards that show what I bought and where I shopped.
  • You won’t find me on Facebook, Linkedin, Twitter, Instagram or YouTube anymore.
  • I have discontinued my Time Warner Cable TV. They keep track of the shows we watch.
  • I have not renewed my subscriptions to the National Review and the Conservative Chronicle. I certainly do not need to be on their mailing lists.
  • I have unsubscribed to the Limbaugh Letter.
  • I have stopped using my computer to send emails, surf websites, and search Google. These activities are all being tracked.
  • I will never send checks to conservative candidates again. My checks are being electronically traced by my bank and reviewed by the IRS. In fact, I am going to close my checking account at PNC.
  • I have sold all of my stock in Caterpillar, ExxonMobil, and Goodyear and bought shares in green energy companies.
  • I have shut off my Duke energy service because those smart meters record my electric and gas usage and calculate my carbon footprint. I don’t need the hypocritical Al “Jazeera” Gore including me in his next documentary.
  • I have turned in my gun and canceled my NRA membership.
  • I sold my car with the Onstar tracking system, and I will not be driving through EZPass toll booth lanes anymore.
  • Kathleen Sebelius, the US Secretary of Health and Inhumane Services will never know about any of my medical conditions because I am not going to see a doctor ever again. I certainly don’t want every one of my diagnoses captured on a computer and shared with the administrators of the Affordable Health Act, the IRS.
  • And Sebelius can look at my Walgreens loyalty card data all she wants. She will not find anything more exciting than Q-tips, multi-vitamins and Hoops and Yoyo greeting cards associated with me. In fact, from today onward, I am not going to be taking my meds anymore. My psychologist said that I am not paranoid if people are actually following me.
  • Finally, I have ripped up my passport and have curbed all travel plans that can be monitored, foreign and domestic. My only regret: I didn’t move my family to Hong Kong first.

 

I am now living stress free knowing that my family, our way of life and all of our freedoms are completely protected from our overreaching and nefarious government.

 

Confidentially yours,

 

Edward Snowed-In (Pseudonym)

 

P.S.  I will be off the grid until there are term limits and tax reforms that eliminate corruption.

Posted on

service of others (guest writer #3)

What does an apartment flood, a house fire, and a stolen car all have in common?

 

My family.

 

We have walked through each of these trying times, and by His grace have walked out stronger and with a greater appreciation of each other, our community, and how material things are just possessions.

 

Yes, just possessions.

 

It was October 6, 2004, and I was pregnant with our sixth son.  I was having a rough time and was ill from this pregnancy.  My mom had taken our 18 month old to her house.  My hubby and oldest were off to football, and I had taken the middle 3 boys to their weekly church program.  I was coming home to soak in the bathtub and enjoy the quiet.  Instead, I pulled up to firefighters kicking out the windows to our burning house.  I am so thankful none of the boys were in the car, since that sight gave me nightmares for weeks.  More thankfully, none of us were home, since the fire started in the box of firewood, we were told none of us would’ve survived.  The fire burned so hot, it melted the smoke detectors.

 

The events that happened next are the part I really want to share with you, my friends…

 

The sweetest elderly couple in a Red Cross van came to us that evening, provided basic clothes, toiletries, and necessities.  We had friends and neighbors bringing blankets and food.  The Red Cross put us up in a hotel for a night, and then we stayed with family for the rest of the week.  Our church was truly God’s hands and feet to us — there anytime we needed.  Our van had died in this time, too, leaving my boys and myself stuck in a busy intersection.  So they had an anonymous donor buy us, a new van to us.  We found a rental house only six days later, and the Red Cross put down our deposit.  Our church then completely furnished the house, including a generously stocked fridge.

 

Our football organization held fundraisers and collections for household items and clothes.  We had people calling and trying to explain the connection to our family through a friend or just how they had heard of our situation — could they just drop off some money?

 

My hubby worked at Cincinnati’s Xavier University at the time, and the student athletes put on a Christmas party; they filled our new van so full we could hardly get it all home!

 

The outpouring of love, grace, and openhandedness from local churches, sports organizations, Red Cross, Coats for Kids, and so many more friends of friends was just amazing.

 

Friends, I know we are all busy, but when given the chance, I encourage you to be a part of your community as much as possible.  Join a church, a sports team, organization, or a community group.  You may start out thinking you are there to help someone else, but the person you will help the most is yourself.

 

“The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.”

— Mahatma Ghandi

 

Respectfully,

AW

Posted on

pressure (guest writer #2)

When I was a young mom, things were simple. If we threw a baby shower, there was cake, a vegetable and fruit tray, and some punch. Everyone brought a gift and that was it. There was lots of fun, lots of memories, and no pressure. As our children celebrated birthdays, pin the tail on the donkey and a piñata and maybe musical chairs sufficed. A cake and punch with some ice cream thrown in for good measure was enough and everyone had a good time.  I am so happy we didn’t have Facebook and Instagram then. The same pressure I feel when I see how many miles my friends have jogged and how they beat their time on their last marathon would have done me in.

 

As my children are all young adults now, I endure ribbing about their childhood short shorts and striped shirts and buzzed or bowl haircuts (… which I might add, were fashionable at the time). But it doesn’t bother me because I know that back then, I didn’t care and neither did they or their friends. They were clean and clothed and not naked. I shopped at Mervyns and thrift shops. It was enough, and we were happy.

 

I feel sorry for this generation, parading their exercise and dietary accomplishments, relationships, clothing choices, extravagant parties and seemingly perfect lives for all to see. The motives may be pure, but do our narcissistic natures cause us to paint a media picture that is not real?

 

Now don’t get me wrong; I don’t want to know how much snot is coming from your baby’s nose or how naughty Johnny is and how you want to send him to boot camp. That is just as unhelpful. But do we post things to make ourselves look a certain way? Do we post things that we would say in normal conversation?

 

Imagine yourself standing in the lobby at church or your favorite hangout and announcing at the top of your lungs:

 

“Everyone, Mary brought me a meal tonight!  I am so lucky I have so many friends!”

“Everyone, look at how cute I look in my new dress!”

“Everyone, I spent only $200 on Hank’s first birthday party; everything was perfect and only a few of you were invited!”

“I am so strong; I can actually run 22 miles a week and live on carrots!”

“Everyone, my child is such a brat. I can’t take it anymore!”

 

Maybe I’m a spoil sport, but I think I’m not the only one who feels this way. One time I posted a quote about marriage on my Facebook page on my anniversary. Soon after, I noticed an old friend had unfriended me. As I searched my heart as to why, I believe that quote cut her to the quick. She has never married and always wanted to. Do I know this for sure? No, but the Lord used it to convict me.

 

Facebook isn’t real. It tempts us to say things and present ourselves in a way that is not authentic. We get wrapped up in what we want to say without thinking of how our readers might feel. We don’t see their reactions or have the ability to interact with them after they read or see our latest entry. It is like having an unharnessed tongue on crack.

 

I love the Bible. It touches every topic and I believe there are principles that God defined that apply to this issue as well. If used as a filter, they could guide us as we pen our thoughts and post our pictures for the world to see.

 

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable — if anything is excellent or praiseworthy — think about such things.  Phil 4:8

 

Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.  Romans 12:15

 

Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.  Ephesians 4:29

 

There is one whose rash words are like sword thrusts, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.  Proverbs 12:18

 

Know this, my beloved brothers:  let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God.  James 1:19-20.

 

In light of these guidelines, what do we do?  Be sensitive to your audience. Will others feel left out, condemned or discouraged from reading or seeing your photostream? Will they feel informed on social issues, or politics? Will they feel encouraged about the ways that you are growing and learning on your journey? Don’t forget the old-fashioned thank you note. Thank people for their generosity toward you in a private message rather than publicly.  Your children are darling, and I like seeing them. I will rejoice in your marathon success, and I will try not to covet your physical abilities.  And as the old adage goes: if in doubt, don’t.

 

Respectfully,

DC

Posted on

the season (guest writer #1)

Every year our divine hostess AR invites me to chime in on the Intramuralist and give my two cents worth around this time. And I heartily agree. This year, however, I find myself not so au currant on anything current. Like, at all.

 

I have found myself simply burned out on all the news of the day. The tantrums, the spin, the gotcha journalism. The celebrities who seem to make bad choices, or are famous for only being famous, the refusal to accept that the other side of any debate may have an actual belief as strong as yours for saying what they say, and doing what they do — imagine that! So, I have checked out as of late. I peruse the headlines; make sure I am not missing anything too important. And then, I simply move on to the demands of my real life.

 

So, as I sat down to write this, I racked my brain about what I could contribute this time around? I have spent my entire summer crafting my next book — fiction so no reality to write about there. And at the baseball diamond, watching the Ames High sophomores battle through a tough schedule and season that has seen as many downs as ups, while we parents line the bleachers and cheer our hearts out.

 

Any parent of an athlete will tell you, when your son or daughter plays sports, your entire life is taken up by their schedule. You make friends with the other parents, akin to how it must feel to be set afloat on a lifeboat from an enormous ship. Before the season, you might know their names, their faces, who their child is.  But after? After you are bound together by hours of hot sweaty, delirious passion for each other’s kids, for the team, and also for each other.

 

And it got me thinking, this group of adults, all from different backgrounds, races, education, some married some not, some born and raised in our town some, like me transplants still trying to feel at home. But yet, all of us have come together this summer, clocking hours at a time side by side in those bleachers.

 

I have no idea what religion or political party any of them subscribe to or believe in, no idea what channel they get their news from. I know each of them is a dedicated parent, a lover of baseball. And, that’s enough.  Wouldn’t it be amazing if the rest of society could function like that? The advent of Facebook and Linked In and Twitter makes it oh so easy to learn everything you might want to know about someone without even meeting them.  You can pre-judge anyone you want with just a few clicks through their profile page. They “like” Fox news? Must be a close-minded conservative. They “like” the Clinton Global Initiative” Must be a bleeding heart liberal with no concept of hard work. Catholic? Pedophile! Muslim? Terrorist! Agnostic? Heathen! Watcher of Honeybooboo? Idiot!

 

Whatever happened to just getting to know people, live and in person?  Imagine the level of understanding we all might have for one another if we actually got to know people personally, their personalities, and hearts, before we made assumptions about their belief systems. I’d like to think we’d become a much less fractured country than we are.  What I have learned this summer about humanity is summed up much more accurately from the diamond than from anything I’ve read on line or seen on TV.

 

If there is a tent put up to block the sun in the bleachers all are welcome to sit under it, but you may have to hold the poles on a windy day.

 

If a player’s sibling is in line with you at the concession stand, you may have to loan them a dollar or two so they can get that extra popsicle or candy bar their parent said they could have only if they had enough money.

 

The same goes for the players themselves; any trip to the concession stand may find you buying an extra hot dog for a player who forgot his money, or an extra Gatorade for the red faced teen who has already gone through the ones he bought. On that bench they all are our children.

 

All bags of peanuts are community property.  Bring enough to share.  Same goes for tootsie pops.

 

If your son strikes out or misses an easy out, rest assured the parents around you will shout out encouragement to him, knowing those words are heard easier to his ears than that of his own parent sometimes.

 

If your son only goes in at the end when the score is lopsided for either team, expect his triumphs to be as heralded as that of the starting line-up.

 

Advil, ice packs, and cold towels are readily given to any player in need of them, regardless of what parent brought them.

 

Winning is exhilarating, losing is heart breaking. Every time. Period.

 

This season has shown our team some amazing lessons. We have won some tough games, and lost the same way. We have had injuries and illnesses and long stretches of games away from home. Our fans are loyal, and loud and for the most part happy to be there.

 

We have a boy who has battled back from cancer, and his parents, happy to be doing something as normal as sitting in the bleachers and not in an exam room. We have stars who shine brightly some nights, and fall short others. We have the head down workers, whose steady contributions may go unheralded but for a brief cheer from the crowd. We have kids whose time on the field is little, but whose support from the bench loud and proud.  But they are a team, they lift each other up, pat each other on the back. Win or lose, it has been a joy to watch them come together as a true team.

 

We are our own mini society. We have our book keeper, our nurse, our head cheerleader, our statistical expert, our field expert. And someone to fill whatever blanks we may need along the way.  It has not been a perfect season, far from it. But it has been a fulfilling season that is for certain. And I will miss going to those bleachers three times a week. I’ll miss the laughs, the support, and the wild cheering with abandon. But mostly, I’ll miss the people.

 

I may not know who any of them voted for, how they feel about gun rights, or gay rights, or separation of church and state. But I know, if my son drops an easy fly ball, everyone of them would yell, “Shake it off, you’ll get it next time.” I know their hearts, and maybe because of that, even if their beliefs are different than mine, I know that belief comes from somewhere good. And maybe that’s how we go about finding common ground in America today.  Maybe it isn’t about sorting people by Blue or Red or whatever else divides on the surface; maybe what’s underneath is much more important. Discovering who people are by what they do for each other, not just because of what pew they sit in or who they back in the next election.

 

As I said, I learned everything I need to know about the current state of the world this year, at the baseball diamond. And you know what, I have more faith in our future now than I did at the beginning of the season.

 

Respectfully,

Jules