Let It Ride ~ Jen

I was raised to believe that everything is a game. You’re either winning, or you’re losing. There was nothing wrong with the philosophy in itself—my parents wanted us to do our best.

The problem is that I am a natural born meateater. I have a hard time turning it off. So I suck at losing. Or being wrong, which in my head for so long was the same thing.

Because I don’t like being wrong, or losing, I made sure that I knew what I was talking about. Shea will tell you that I am not often wrong. And that he owes me $110 million for all the times he’s said “I bet you a million dollars I’m right” and lost. Even Gabriel is in to me for about $30 million.

Lately I have really been thinking about this need to win. I read some books by a man who says—among other brilliant things—that our cultural obsession with winning in this country traps us in a very basic existence. Specifically, that we can never be the Christians Christ calls us to be if we are constantly ordering ourselves as above or below everyone in our lives.

We only need to orient ourselves in terms of one thing, really. Our relationship with God.

In percolating on this, I realized I need a whole new perspective. I had no idea how many times in a day I order myself in the hierarchy. I do it so naturally, it’s almost unconscious. Just yesterday, I had this conversation in my head: “I’m wearing yoga pants to pick up the kids. Again. I wore yoga pants to pick up the kids Tuesday. If I wear them today, what will the other moms think? But so-and-so wears yoga pants every day, and the same ones, I’m pretty sure. I’m not as bad as that.”

And do you know as I was typing that, I thought in my head “Well, at least I just thought it. So-and-So would have said it out loud to everyone and asked if that made her a bad mom. I’m not like that.”

Well.

Natural born meateater. It’s going to take a minute to replace the motherboard.

My goal this month is to let it ride. To shake it off. To be quiet and watch. To not need to be the one who knows or does or handles it. To not keep score. To not always try to hold the high ground, where I just find myself alone and under siege anyway. To let Shea win some of his money back.

I am going to try out the idea that I don’t have to have a say. I don’t have to have a point of view. I don’t have to have an explanation or an answer. I don’t have to take every person’s idea in and sort it immediately into a pile of “brilliant”, “stupid”, “ridiculous”, “intriguing” or “foolish”. I can just let it be, since it usually has nothing to do with me, and trust that God is doing His work.

Folks who know me really well know that I will need a lot of support to make this happen. A lot of prayerful support. Maybe even a miracle. I’d be grateful if you could remember me in your thoughts.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Threats of Sexual Violence Should Not Be a Marketing Strategy ~ Jen

We don’t usually post on the weekends. But this is a huge issue for both of us. We prayed over it and felt directed to write this and publish it today.

There’s a shocking and crass commercial from the “non-partisan” but funded by the Koch brothers group Generation Opportunity, aimed at discouraging young adults from signing up for insurance under the Affordable Care Act.

It shows a young woman getting her first pap smear under “Obamacare”. While she is in the stirrups, the doctor leaves. A giant Uncle Sam rises from the corner and steps between her legs as the door slowly and ominously closes.

Yep, it’s a rape commercial.

I am not going to address this from a political perspective, because that’s been done. I want to speak to it as a Christian woman. Not the least because most of the employees listed on the website over at Generation Opportunity attended Christian colleges.

I’m going to assume that we all know our Bible, and that I don’t have to quote scripture here to make my points.

Our bodies, made in God’s image, are sacred space. If we are Christians, then that is the end of the story for us. It is never ok to exploit this sacred space, or make sport of violence against it. It is bad enough that sexual violence is so prevalent in our nation. But to use the threat of sexual violence as a tool of fear—to support a falsehood, by the way—is surely sin.

The commercial is clever, with its lilting circus music, designed to take the edge off. But darkness is often packaged in clever and distracting ways. And that’s what this commercial is—darkness. Generation Opportunity, and its sponsors, Americans For Freedom, are hosting darkness.

No matter how you feel about the Affordable Care Act, this cannot be acceptable to you. Not if we hope to have a loving, respectful kingdom of God here on earth. God-loving folk are the care-takers of this kingdom. We have a responsibility to protect it and its law, which is love.

The bible tells us “Let us pursue what makes for peace and for mutual upbuilding” (Romans 14:19). There is a way to have this argument, respectfully and peacefully. There is a way to bring light to the questions, instead of darkness. There is a way to reach an uplifting solution that respects the sacred space of everyone, as Jesus calls us to do.

But if we insist on treating universal health care as a game, with winners and losers, then let’s remember: women’s bodies are not the playing field; sexual violence is not the tool; win at all cost is not the goal.

There is only one rule: “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13: 34-35).

I am including the link to the commercial here, with reservations. I don’t want to promote it, but I want you to know that it’s out there. If you have been a victim of sexual violence, you may want to skip it.

I am also providing the link to the Contact Page at Generation Opportunity, in case you feel so moved to let them know how you feel.

The Commercial: www.youtube.com

Contact Generation Opportunity: http://generationopportunity.org

God Blessed the Seventh Day ~ Jen

The Catholic Church is celebrating the Year of Faith. So I signed up for a daily dose of catechism. This one popped up a few weeks ago.

If Sunday is disregarded or abolished, only workdays are left in the week. Man, who was created for joy, degenerates into a workhorse and a mindless consumer. We must learn on earth how to celebrate properly, or else we will not know what to do in heaven. Heaven is an endless Sunday.

It’s referring to the Third (or Fourth, if you are a Protestant) Commandment. The biblical text is as follows:

Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy.
Six days you shall labor, and do all your work;
but the seventh day is a sabbath to the LORD your God;
in it you shall not do any work, you, or your son,
or your daughter, your manservant,
or your maidservant or your cattle,
or the sojourner who is within your gates;
for in six days the LORD made heaven and earth,
the sea, and all that is in them,
and rested the seventh day;
therefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day and hallowed it.

The verse from Exodus references Genesis and the creation story:

And on the seventh day God finished the work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all the work that he had done. ³So God blessed the seventh day and hallowed it, because on it God rested from all the work that he had done in creation.

Oh man, I have so many thoughts on how this is (not) working in my life. The last two weeks since this posted I have been chewing on it, with a side of my mom’s recent comment that we’re a pretty busy family, and my months long obsession with finding the exact right trailer for my family, which ate up a fair amount of weekends.

On Sundays, we go to church. We’re home by 10:30. And then it’s play time. Or shop time. Or clean the house because folks are coming for dinner time. It is rarely ever rest time.

And am I joy-full on Sundays? As I’m playing or shopping or cleaning and cooking, am I mindful of God and His day?

Sometimes, like when we head straight down to the beach after Mass, and have a lovely day playing in God’s ocean. On those days there is always a time when I utter a prayer of thanksgiving for the weather and the sun and the salty sea water.

Sometimes, like last Sunday, when I sit next to my dad and watch my kids play with their grandma in the pool. On those days I am filled with the joy of loving family and memory-making.

And sometimes, when I have managed to get every single chore done by Saturday so that Shea can lay on the couch and watch his Bills in peace and quiet while I write or read or watch a movie with the kids, I am joyfully grateful for the rest.

But those Sabbaths happen far too infrequently. Too many Sundays are spent at the mall, where I can score $100 worth of clothes for $60. I feel victory and satisfaction, but not joy. And I am certainly not mindful of God while I am bargain hunting.

Then I realized this: every car we have bought as a couple has been purchased on a Sunday, which means we have haggled and hassled and played good cop-bad cop on the Sabbath. I’m trying to screw you before you can screw me mode is neither joyful nor restful, and it’s impossible at those times to be mindful of anyone but your own self.

So the truth is, too many of our Sabbaths have been rushed and crammed and cranky and mindless.

My spirit is itchy, which means we are out of Alignment and need a change.

I want to be better at honoring this Commandment. What can we do in our family to both honor the Commandment and instill in our kids the wonderful knowledge that God, in His wisdom and love, has commanded us to rest and be joyful.

I want Heaven to be an endless day on the beach at Coronado. Not endless hours of haggling with a used car salesman.

So if you’ve got thoughts, I’ve got ears. How do you keep and bless this day in your homes?

Dance for God ~ Jen

I never wanted Kate to dance.

I want her to smash volleyballs down the line and laugh.

I’m not kidding. Because that girl who uses her height and strength to pound a ball into the floor—that girl will not get pushed around in this world. That girl will never be a crumpled heap in a corner because of what the world did to her.

But Kate doesn’t like balls. Or smashing anything. Kate wants to dance.

So last summer, I found a dance studio in town and signed her up. It was disorganized and a bit silly, but that was ok with me because I wasn’t too serious anyhow.

I sat in the waiting room, watching my daughter on a tiny tv, listening to the other moms. They were much as I expected: catty, gossipy, whispery. Overly concerned with how big or small their daughters were in comparison with the others. The hip-hop music coming out of the big practice room was questionable. We won’t be doing hip-hop, ever I thought. One day we got an email reminding us that if our small children were a nuisance in the waiting room, we were expected to leave. I heard from a friend that some moms actually ran a dad and his toddler out the door one night.

I felt uncomfortable, but at the Christmas recital, Kate nailed it and had a wonderful time. “I LOVE dance!” she told me. We stayed.

Then in late January, the recital costumes were posted. I needed to pay $90 for something that I did not feel was appropriate for my 5 year old. I looked at what the older girls were expected to wear and saw my future—it had less and less material with every passing year. If she wanted to be serious about dance, this was not a place I was willing to make that happen.

I went home and Googled “Christian dance studio” out of desperation. I didn’t even know if such a thing existed. But it does, and right down the road from our town.

We made the switch. At the first class, I sat in front of a giant window with my daughter just on the other side. Her teacher had the girls sit in a circle and hold hands.

Then they started class with a prayer.

God sent me more Grace than I knew I needed. I wanted her in a place where modesty and grace were important. I got a place where moms and teenagers study the Bible at the studio; I’ve seen beautiful dancing to Christian music and watched kind young ladies and men mentor the little ones around them. My toddler is welcome here, with her sticky fingers and her wobbling walk. People just move around her, patting her head as they go by. The peaceful moms have smiles for every child, not just their own. I don’t sense competition, only the commitment to hold each other up. Conversations center around home school and church groups and praise choirs.

They are serious about their dance at this place, too. All the instructors are professionals, and they use the American Ballet Theater National Training Curriculum. I don’t know what that means, but there are dancers on pointe. The music is clean and Christian, even the hip-hop, and the dancers work very, very hard in their classes.

This last weekend was the recital. I knew it was going to be great. I told everyone they were going to see some beautiful dancing to great Christian music. A visual feast.

I wasn’t wrong. But I was far away from right. That’s not what happened in that theater. It wasn’t dancing.

It was worship.

The little kids were adorable in their costumes, stumbling through their dances while trying to wave at their parents.

But the older dancers, they knew what they were there for. They didn’t just dance to the songs, they felt the songs. They praised God with their arms and their legs and their spirits. They weren’t dancing for us. They were dancing for Him. And they lifted us up with them in praise and joy.

This is light years away from “Dance Moms” and mean girls.

This is about growing the gifts that God gave Kate in a way that glorifies God. This is learning that being on stage is not for her or about her, but for others, a service, a witness. This is about working for God and not for applause.

And because they were dancing for God and not themselves, they were calm, confident, spiritual.

Now I want Kate to dance with all my soul. Or at least stay with this studio long enough to learn that whatever gift she has came from God and should be offered back to Him in service and witness.

Because it’s not winning that will hold the evils of the world at bay. It’s not physical aggression that will stop her from being a crumpled heap in the corner.

That’s not what kept me safe, either.

It’s God. She has to keep her eyes on God.

www.dunamixdanceproject.com

Eve, Modesty and Baby Bikinis ~ Jen

I found a pair of shoes at Nordstrom’s Rack that struck me, so I took a picture of them and uploaded to Instagram:

My 20 year old niece responded that they were “SO CUTE!!!! Where are you? Do they have my size???”

She thought they were grown up shoes.

They aren’t. I found them in the toddler section. Size 12.

This Spring, as the catalogs arrived with new summer clothes and suits, I noticed that everything seems more and more like mini-versions of adult clothing. And not in a good way. Like this:

This one is available for three year olds

And this:

This was initially available starting at 6-12months

And maybe most disturbingly, this:

String bikini available in size 0-6 months

It’s probably not new. But this is the first year I am shopping for Kate in the Big Girl sizes, and the lack of material available is a problem.

The anxiety sister in me looks at those bathing suits and thinks immediately of the creepy guy on the beach with his phone, taking pictures of little girls dressed like mini Hawaiian Tropics models and posting them on some sick website.

But it’s not just that. Part of my job as a Christian mom is to teach my children to be modest in their dress and their behavior. The Bible tells us “Know you not, that you are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you?” (1 Corinthians 3:16,17). As a Christian Feminist, I am not getting on board with the folks who see women as the source of temptation and use Eve as proof. I have never understood the concept of modesty in only women and because men are some kind of animal who cannot be trusted to control their emotions or actions. Thankfully, my church teaches that the Adam and Eve story is allegorical, so for us, Eve is a cautionary tale of sinful disobedience, and not the founding example of the Whore archetype.

(Plus, think what we are saying if woman is the source of sinful lust and temptation AND a temple of God? Yikes)

More to my point is that if God is in there, we better be careful about the message that we send through our clothes, words and actions. My kids are little, so I am in charge of that message right now. What am I telling the world if I dress my little girl up in a swimsuit that makes her look like she has a waist and some boobs? Or let her teeter around on shoes with a two inch heel. To make her look…what? Taller? Older? Sexier?

Blech.

I can’t live vicariously through my daughter’s figure, or revisit glory days. I shouldn’t look at her five year old self and imagine the bombshell she might be at twenty. Just the thought gives me the heebie-jeebies.

If God is in there, then Self-respect equals God-respect. That is one of my major goals as a mom, to teach my kids that how they dress, act and speak is a reflection of who they are. Who they are is a temple of God, a sacred space, proof of love. I want them to understand that they are precious and deserving of respect and honor. I hope it will help them make good choices in action and people as they grow older.

Our secular society teaches that it is the light coming off a person that makes them valuable. The more we glitter, the “better” we are. But people of all faiths should know that is not true. It is the light coming out of a person that makes them Love in this world.

Because God is in there. So dress Him appropriately.

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