Buffy and Winter

I had high hopes the new year. I was going to have a renewed sense of purpose and focus on establishing some new practices. Only, that's not what happened. I just couldn't seem to muster up the motivation or the discipline.

Instead of focusing on practices and purpose, I spent the better part of January binge-watching the television series Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which I had never seen before. I spent any time I had to myself watching Buffy save the world a lot. After spending most of 2015 hardly watching any television, this was... well... a change from that.

I'm not saying it's good or bad. It's just what happened.

I did manage to stay with a couple of my old daily practices. I continued Morning Prayer, and, thanks to an overly-energetic puppy who joined our family in June, I still took walks in the woods every day. I admit I probably would've foregone the walks if the dog would have let me get away with it.

Since I couldn't find my way to starting any new practices, I placated my conscience by trying to use the time in the woods to be present and notice what was going on around me as the seasons made their way through the woods. Even as I experienced a growing sense of general disconnection due to my lack of motivation and discipline, I determined to look for what was still beautiful as the green of Summer and the colors of Fall gave way to the short, cold, gray days of Winter.

I always try to take at least a minute in the woods to close my eyes and breathe deeply, to make myself aware of my connection to the earth beneath my feet and the trees surrounding me. Right now, most of the trees are empty. Just trunks, really, with bare branches sticking out in angles.

I've been feeling a lot like those trees.

I began 2015 with anticipation. I'd been told my career was about to be upended, so I thought it would be a year of big, exciting, scary change. But then it wasn't. And now it's 2016 and I'm in seemingly the same place with nothing temporal to show for the transformation I thought was inevitable. Like a tree in winter, whatever shelter or beauty I had in former seasons is gone, carried away in the biting, Autumn wind. I have nothing to offer.

But surely something happened or is happening. Trees don't cease to exist in winter. Things are happening under the ground, right? I tried to reassure myself with those thoughts. But I've since learned that trees are dormant in winter. Almost nothing is happening. They wait out the season, drawing on resources they saved in the other seasons, trying to stay alive. Not especially encouraging to my analogy. But then I found this:

"It is possible to force a tree to evade dormancy if you keep it inside and with a stable temperature and light pattern. However, this is usually bad for the tree. It's natural for trees to go through dormancy cycles, and the lifespan of the plant is dramatically decreased if the tree is not allowed to go dormant for a few months. Trees have winter dormancy for a reason, and it's best to just let them run their course as nature intended."

I know I'm not a tree, but something about those words is reassuring. Seasons of dormancy are natural and healthy. I remembered that Parker J. Palmer uses the seasons a metaphor for exploring selfhood and vocation in his book 'Let Your Life Speak.'

Palmer writes that winter is a reminder that "times of dormancy and deep rest are essential to all living things. Despite all appearances, of course, nature is not dead in winter-it has gone underground to renew itself and prepare for spring. Winter is a time when we are admonished, and even inclined, to do the same for ourselves....Winter clears the landscape, however brutally, giving us a chance to see ourselves and each other more clearly, to see the very ground of our being."

Maybe I stumbled into this dormant season and maybe binge-watching an old TV series isn't the best way to renew myself and prepare for what's next. A part of me is a bit terrified that nothing is next. Terrified that the trees will soon be filled with leaves and new life and I'll still be dormant, with nothing to offer.

I guess that could happen.

But maybe recognizing the necessity of an occasional time of dormancy can bring me the perspective I need. I hope it will help me be more understanding of myself and others. And I pray I can now try to look clearly at the ground of my being and at least open myself to the possibility of a new season.

Inexplicable

This is a short reflection on some of the words I've encountered and have been sitting with as I explore what silence means for me this year. I use "sitting with" because stating I'm "learning" or "understanding" could give the impression that I have a better grasp on any of this than I actually do. The following may not seem to scream "silence," but it's there.

In a series of talks with Fr. Thomas Keating, Fr. Richard Rohr speaks of how our ego or "false self" is what causes us to define ourselves in terms of what we dislike or what we are against. This "contrariness," as Julian of Norwich terms it, closes us off from experiencing deeper levels of faith and life, "because it’s always defining itself in terms of analysis, critique, judgment, labeling, or positioning, and this game of positioning is a mind game." Rohr says this mind game is "entirely an inner system that makes [us] feel important," but actually leads us into conflict with ourselves and others. It is necessary to let go of our false self in order to be who we truly are, but he explains that letting go of how we've learned to define ourselves can be incredibly distressing:

It’s all about letting go... It’s not about controlling or achieving or promoting or attaining…  it feels like dying in the first instance, because you've spent so much time living out of this mind and this ego that you think is you.... It will feel, in the first instance, like losing and like dying…these “little dyings” that have to become an art form and that you have to go through once, twice, several significant times to know, as the poet said, “What did I ever lose by dying?”

As I'm sitting with these words and others from Keating and Merton, what I'm experiencing does seem, at the risk of sounding a bit dramatic, "like losing and like dying."

In the midst of that, however, I think I might also be just beginning to catch infinitesimal glimpses that I am someone aside from all the ways I've previously defined myself - aside from what I do or don't do, what I like or dislike, how others approve of or disapprove of me - and apart from any labels or judgement that could be applied to me by myself or others.

I don't know how else to explain or define any of this. I know that it feels quite humbling and somewhat lonely.

And yet, inexplicably, also like becoming known.

OneWord 2014: Silence

"We work out our salvation in silence and in hope. Silence is the strength of our interior life....Without this silence, our virtues are sound only, only an outward noise, a manifestation of nothing..." - Thomas Merton


What words do I use to explain why "silence" is my word for 2014? I've been trying for weeks to write this post, but I realize I must rely heavily on the wisdom of others to communicate why I chose Silence this year.

Merton and other contemplatives like Thomas Keating and Richard Rohr write of silence as the place within each of us where we discard our false-selves and the external props we often depend on to "prove" ourselves or our faith. By embracing and fully experiencing our inner silence, we learn to be who we truly are. I've been re-reading portions of Thomas Merton's No Man is an Island, and keep returning to this excerpt:

It is useless to try to make peace with ourselves by being pleased with everything we have done. In order to settle down in the quiet of our own being we must learn to be detached from the results of our own activity. We must withdraw ourselves, to some extent, from effects that are beyond our control and be content with the good will and the work that are the quiet expression of our inner life. We must be content to live without watching ourselves live, to work without expecting an immediate reward, to love without an instantaneous satisfaction, and to exist without any special recognition. 

We cannot experience this making "peace with ourselves" or "quiet expression of our inner life," without becoming well-acquainted with our interior silence.

I often feel a compulsion to react to what is going on around me and to fill silence with outward noise. Yet I've realized in the past weeks that I need to withdraw from the impulse to react, so I can explore the true motivations for my reactions. When I am filling space with my own noise, I am not making room for what God may be trying to speak to me in silence, nor what I may need to hear from others speaking out of the silence of their interior life.

Practicing silence doesn't mean always being silent, but it does mean honoring my own silence and the silence of others by not giving in to the discomfort that seeks to fill it without purpose. Practicing silence is one way in which I can learn to detach myself from a desire for others to hear and understand me, in order that I will hear myself and others more clearly and with understanding.

I'm not going to preemptively limit this experience by trying to create a detailed plan. I intend to explore more deeply the practice of contemplative prayer and I may attend some religious services where silence is practiced in community. I hope to go on a spiritual retreat that cultivates silence if I can, but I'm not making that a requirement. I am open to the possibility (read: probability) that my year with silence will be nothing like I'm envisioning right now.

Here is a final excerpt from Merton that I've been meditating on and which influenced me to choose Silence for 2014:

If we fill our lives with silence, then we live in hope, and Christ lives in us and gives our virtues much substance. Then, when the time comes, we confess Him openly before men, and our confession has much meaning because it is rooted in deep silence. It awakens the silence of Christ in the hearts of those who hear us, so that they themselves fall silent and begin to wonder and to listen. For they have begun to discover their true selves. If our life is poured out in useless words we will never hear anything in the depths of our hearts, where Christ lives and speaks in silence. 

I want to fill my life with silence, so that when I speak I am not pouring out useless words, but rather speaking hope to the silence in the hearts of those who hear.

$#!&-y First Drafts

My beautiful friend Kara, who happens to be one of the world's best givers of gifts, sent me books for my birthday.  I recently finished the last one, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life, by author Anne Lamott.  I highly recommend it even if you don’t write.  I have no plans to write a book, but I have been trying to incorporate some of her instructions into my writing here.  Presently, I've been focusing on the chapter titled “Shitty First Drafts.”  Ms. Lamott offers some amusing narrative on how she views these terrible first drafts, but also offers this bit of wisdom:

For me and most of the other writers I know, writing is not rapturous. In fact, the only way I can get anything written at all is to write really, really shitty first drafts…. Almost all good writing begins with terrible first efforts.  You need to start somewhere.  Start by getting something – anything – down on paper.  A friend of mine says that the first draft is the down draft – you just get it down.  The second draft is the up draft – you fix it up.  You try to say what you have to say more accurately.  And the third draft is the dental draft where you check every tooth, to see if it’s loose or cramped or decayed, or even, God help us, healthy.

After considering this, I realized I need to break a bad habit I picked up when I was in college.  Between working two part-time jobs, taking a heavy course load, serving in student government, and trying to fit in a bit of a social life, there wasn't much time left to set aside for all of my writing assignments (Political Science major + English minor = a ridiculous number of papers).  I would try to do the reading and research in advance, but I rarely started writing a paper until the night before it was due.  At that point, I would write until the wee hours, review the paper, sleep an hour or two, glance over it one more time to correct any glaring errors, and turn it in.

Although I managed to do pretty well with this routine, it certainly was not ideal.  I realize now that never developing any kind of true editing and revision process back then has bled over into my current writing.  Until the past week or so, I used to write and post most of my work in the same day, without putting in much time for real scrutiny.  I went back and read some of my older posts and realized the ones I’m most proud of are those I worked on for several days before I posted them.  There are a lot of filler or ranting posts in between the better ones which are, quite frankly, just shitty first drafts masquerading as actual blog posts.

I’m trying now to focus on spending more time in the editing process so that I post less first-draft work.  I've found that taking a break from a draft for a day or so and revisiting it later makes errors more obvious to me; I also find I’m much more willing to delete sentences or entire paragraphs once I've distanced myself from them a bit.  When I used to write/review/publish all in one sitting, I felt more attached to what I’d just typed and ended up leaving in a lot of superfluous writing.

My writing may or may not be improving, but I feel like I've produced some better-edited posts, which is a pretty big deal for me.  I am extremely critical of my own work and almost always have a twinge of panic as soon as I click "Publish," wondering if I really should have shared whatever I posted.  Being more intentional with my editing has helped me feel a little more confident in my work, which is not an insignificant thing for me.

In the words of Flannery O’Connor, “I write because I don’t know what I think until I read what I say.”  That pretty accurately sums up the entire reason I write this blog.  Improving my writing will help improve my understanding of what I think and believe, so I should absolutely put in the effort to be intentional about it.  Better editing and more clarity may also be a welcome change to the few people who read what I write.

Of course, I've spent several days editing the heck out of this post, but there are probably still superfluous words and flow issues and errors.  I'm okay with that.  I'm not trying to be perfect, just better.


PS.  Thank you again for the book, Kara!  I loved it as much as you said I would.

Making Peace with Bonhoeffer

“Finally, one extreme statement must still be made, without any platitudes, and in all soberness. Not considering oneself wise, but associating with the lowly, means considering oneself the worst of sinners. This arouses total opposition not only from those who live at the level of nature, but also from Christians who are self-aware.  It sounds like an exaggeration, an untruth. Yet even Paul said of himself that he was the foremost, i.e., the worst of sinners (1 Tim. 1:15). He said this at the very place in scripture where he was speaking of his ministry as an apostle. There can be no genuine knowledge of sin that does not lead me down to this depth.  If my sin appears to me to be in any way smaller or less reprehensible in comparison with the sins of others, then I am not yet recognizing my sin at all.  My sin is of necessity the worst, the most serious, the most objectionable. Christian love will find any number of excuses for the sins of others; only for my sin is there no excuse whatsoever. That is why my sin is the worst. Those who would serve others in the community must descend all the way down to this depth of humility.” - Dietrich Bonhoeffer in Life Together

Before I proceed, I want to say that I've shared only an excerpt from the book and if you haven’t read it, yes there are entire sections on confession and holding each other accountable.  I wanted to say that so no one makes the mistake of dismissing the sentiment above or what I'm about to write as some kind of “everything is permissible, even blatant sin” argument.  As much as I love and agree with the statement, “Christian love will find any number of excuses for the sins of others,” I do not, in fact, believe that means we should pretend that everyone can do whatever the hell they want with no consequences. 

That said, I finished Life Together and think I've made peace with Bonhoeffer.  I found so many insights in the second half of the book that it will take me years to process all of them.  I may have a college degree from a Christian university and be a life-long reader, but I am still pretty new to reading theology.  It can be inspiring, but sometimes frustrating and difficult to process.  I'm learning as I go.  I'm glad I committed to finish reading the book, because there is a lot I would have missed if I had stopped reading when I found the first part difficult to manage.    

I think there are some things we each believe on some level, but that we don't fully understand until we read or hear them explained in a way that "clicks" with our own mind and heart.  For example, when I was reading Exclusion and Embrace and I knew as I was reading I had always believed so much of what was in that book, but I hadn't put in the years of research and studies required to be able to explain what I believed with the wisdom and depth of insight in which Miroslav Volf is so fluent.

I had a similar experience when I read the above passage from Life Together, only this time with a twinge of realization of how far I am from that ideal.  Of course I, like many people, don’t think my own sins are really THAT reprehensible in comparison to the sins of others, otherwise I probably couldn’t live with myself. But I am deceiving myself to think that when I mess up it is somehow not as bad as when others do. Thinking my sin is more acceptable or is more easily forgiven is prideful and wrong. Sin is sin.

It is okay to be disappointed when I feel that others have completely missed the spirit of love by clinging so tightly to the letter of the law.  It is right to call out abusive words and actions.  But none of that can be done from an attitude that I am more right or have the upper moral or spiritual ground.  I can believe with all my heart that what someone has said or done is so wrong that I can’t even reconcile it with any thought of decency.  Yet, I still must not think that my sin or where I go wrong is somehow acceptable compared to what I perceive to be that person's sin or where they go wrong.

I have to be accountable for the things I do and where I fail.  I have to own the times I am wrong.  I have to be humble enough to say that even though I can see those things right in front of me that seem like GLARING NEON SIN BILLBOARDS on others, I have to know that my own sin billboards are twice as offensive.

For quite a while I felt that I should speak up and point out what I considered to be glaring errors in the way others behaved or how they thought of certain things. I felt that because I was learning to think differently about things and that I should help others get there too. But that isn’t my job. My job is to listen. My job is to focus on removing the proverbial plank from my own eye.

It is a struggle to "descend all the way down to this depth of humility," let alone to stay there.  It is always a temptation to justify my shortcomings by comparing them to what others do that I'd like to think is worse.  But after spending time with this passage over the past few days, I realize I have no grounds for comparison.  I have no grounds for feeling superior.  I have no grounds for excusing myself while condemning others.  Humility and love are the only acceptable lenses through which I can view the sins of others.  My sin is the worst and I must act accordingly.

"This is a trustworthy saying, and everyone should accept it: 

“Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners”—

and I am the worst of them all."

1 Timothy 1:15

On Bonhoeffer and Finding Balance

I’m working through my resolution books (I’ve finished three already) and currently reading “Life Together.”  I started it a couple months ago and feel like I’m barely making progress.  I’ve realized that part of what I love about writers like Barbara Brown Taylor and Rachel Held Evans and Richard Beck is that they leave some room in their writing for discussion.  The voice in which they write is one of explaining an understanding at which they have arrived and inviting the reader to consider it carefully.  Reading their work feels like an invitation to an on-going conversation.  My experience with Dietrich Bonhoeffer thus far is pretty much the opposite of that. 

I know he is revered by many, so this is probably somewhat sacrilegious, but it is exhausting trying to keep my mind in this book while I’m reading it.  Maybe it is the tone in translation or how different much of what he describes is from my own life, but reading it feels similar to attending a lecture where the person speaking begins by saying that questions are not permitted, as there is nothing he will say that is open for discussion.  For the first two sections, I had to force myself to ignore what felt like being dictated to and continue reading.

Thankfully, now that I’ve made it to the third section, I think I’m getting used to it. I even found myself drawn in to the part where he explains the importance of silence.  The larger context of the passage is about silence in the presence and contemplation of scripture, but I also found there some inspiration for my overall pursuit of listening to gain understanding.

“Silence does not mean being incapable of speech, just as speech does not mean idle talk…. There is a wonderful power in being silent – the power of clarification, purification, and focus on what is essential… Much that is unnecessary remains unsaid.  But what is essential and helpful can be said in a few words.”  - Dietrich Bonhoeffer in Life Together

The silence – the listening for the purpose of understanding, the quieting my mind – it’s really hard for me.  I kind of suck at it, actually. I mean, I just wrote three-and-a-half paragraphs and I'm still not to the point of this post. Was all of that really essential?

When I’m alone, I feel like my thoughts go a million miles a minute.  I’m always writing in my head.  Or thinking of how I should explain myself.  Or trying to analyze situations and figure out how I feel about something.  When I’m having a conversation, I find myself talking until I feel I make sense, often explaining the subject in several different ways until I feel like I get my point across.  Sure, sometimes this is all fine, but mostly that is the opposite of focusing on what is essential or listening to understand.

I struggle to find the right balance.

To use the right words to speak from my heart.

To listen with the intent of gaining understanding.

To write with purpose and weave with words.

And most difficult for me right now: To discern when is the appropriate time and what are the appropriate words for each.  I believe what I should be aiming for with my speaking, my listening, and my writing can be summarized from the Bonhoeffer excerpt above – To appreciate the power of silence and to say the essential in few words while leaving the unnecessary unsaid.

What a simple and overwhelming aspiration. 

Whenever and Wherever

"We are creatures made in the image of our creator, after all, which makes us partners in God's plan. We too are allies of creation. We too are lovers of life, which means that we too are wounded by the brokenness we see around us, the brokenness in which we ourselves participate. We are both the breakers and the healers, set into relationship with a God whose covenant calls us to shift the balance from death to life whenever and wherever we can." - Barbara Brown Taylor, in Gospel Medicine


Lately I've found that I have to stay busy to keep my mind off the circumstances of other people.  That may sound horrible.  I don't know.  I've had to stop reading and watching the news almost completely.  It's too much.  And it is not just some of the recent mass tragedies that prompted this, but also individual heartaches that are just as much a part of life, yet shouldn't be.  It seems that everywhere I turn, someone I know or a friend of a friend or a real person I don't know but who is on the news, is experiencing something horrible.  Something that no person should have to experience, yet there it is.  I want to turn it off and block it out, but I know deep down that is not possible.

That is the thing about life -- about death, heartache, brokenness, reality -- that gets us, isn't it?  No amount of looking the other way, distracting ourselves, staying busy, focusing on other things... none of those efforts changes any of it.  Even if we can forget for a while, it's all still there.  The brokenness doesn't heal or go away by ignoring it.  We can try to not think about it, but it is all. still. there.  

So what can I do?  

I can't work miracles:  I am not Miracle Max (From The Princess Bride.  Please tell me you got that reference before I explained it.)  

I can't save people's lives: I am not a superhero.  

I can't make suffering go away:  I am not God. 

It's difficult not to feel helpless and hopeless and useless.  Then I started thinking about this line: "shift the balance from death to life whenever and wherever we can."  I read that and realized that when we are doing the very best we can despite all our shortcomings, this is what is happening.  Sometimes it is biting back a sarcastic remark and mustering a smile.  Sometimes it is going out of our way to do something kind or helpful.  Sometimes it is just being there even though we have no advice to offer or words to say.  Sometimes it means showing up even though we don't know why.  

When we persevere against that helpless feeling and do SOMETHING that pushes back the gloom and offers a momentary reprieve from a harsh reality, we are working to shift the balance from death to life.  When we manage to brighten a day or lighten a burden or dry even one tear, we are nudging life ahead of its opposite... even if in the most minuscule, almost unrecognizable of increment.  

Something about the idea of "whenever and wherever" sounds like something I have been having a difficult time grasping lately.  Something about shifting the balance to something good any time that I can and anywhere that I can -- that sounds a little like hope to me.  I'm not certain.  It could be wishful thinking.  I know in my heart that some things are so terrible that there is no escaping them.  I know in my head that a momentary reprieve is just a break and doesn't actually make circumstances different.  But, oh.  Despite all the despair,this does seem like a way to foster hope.  Even if that hope is such a tiny glimmer we can't be sure if it is anything at all.

That's what I want.  I want to focus on shifting to life, shifting to good.  Maybe then I can start seeing hope begin to reveal itself where there previously seemed to be nothing but darkness.  Actually, I'm not going to get overly-optimistic about it.  I'm going to keep thinking, "shift the balance" and keep working on that.  

Any hope or life or healing or positive outcomes are not up to me.  All I can do is show up and try to shift the balance.  

And that is what I intend to do, even if I can't see the results.

From death to life.  Whenever and wherever I can.

All That I Still Have to Learn

While on vacation this summer, I read the book “Leaving Church” by Barbara Brown Taylor.  Near the end of the book, there is a passage where she describes the things she is keeping as she moves on to where life takes her, and the things she is going to pack away.  She writes first of a cross, made out of nails and gifted to her when she first arrived at the parish she is preparing to leave, that it had been lost for years and just then recovered and returned to her.  She continues:

I’m glad to have it back, although I have many more, which I liked to wear back when a cross meant only love to me.  Now I know too many people who regard it as a weapon.  Some have been cut too deeply by it, not once, but over and over again, while those who wield it like a rapier seem to believe that their swordplay pleases God.  Either way, I find myself reaching for symbols with less violence in them.

The one I wear most often now is a silver circle with three waves curling toward each other in the center.  Jesus is one of those waves, but he is not the only one.  When his wave breaks, the Holy Spirit’s wave picks up where his left off, and when the Holy Spirit’s wave breaks, the water spills back toward the Wave Maker.  The clerk who sold me this circle told me that it did not stand for anything, but I knew better.  I knew I needed a symbol for the fullness of God, which cannot be reduced to any one name alone.  While I wear the circle, I will keep the cross, even though I am not sure that the symbol can survive its abuse.

When I read this, I immediately knew that I wanted a tattoo of the three-wave circle.  It’s not a religious symbol, at least not the way a crucifix or a rosary is, but it has deeply significant meaning to how I have come to understand and embrace my faith. The more I turned it over in my mind, the more meaning it took on.

It is difficult to fully explain all that this symbol has become to me and why I wanted it as a tattoo.  I attempted to explain it to Chris, the artist who does my tattoos, and never found the right words.  Of course, I was trying to explain it out loud, which I struggle with.  I’ll make an attempt to do it justice here, in written words, but I some things mean more than words can express. 

This tattoo does symbolize the fullness of God, but that is only the beginning.  It also symbolizes learning to embrace my faith and finally understanding that my faith is made real in the wrestling, the questioning, the re-evaluating, the storms and the peace.  It stands for the vastness of all I still don't know, but the grace to keep growing and changing and letting new revelations wash over me. 

Finally, it signifies that I have made peace with knowing that the way I experience God and understand my faith is not the same way many of the people I love and respect experience God and their faith.  Just as the vastness of the ocean can affect us all differently and evoke different responses from different people, the same is true for how each of us experience God; that is part of the beauty and mystery of both God and the sea. 

When I first started getting tattoos, I thought that they should all have a deep and personal meaning, but I’ve since realized that it’s fine to get a tattoo just because you like it.  My next tattoo may simply be something beautiful that will compliment my magnolia.  But this one is deeply significant to me and will likely take on more meaning as my faith evolves.  The fullness of God, embracing my faith with all that I still have to learn, and being at peace with how I experience God – that's the meaning I explain for now.



Small Choices

I've always thought that if I had lived in another time in history, I would have been an abolitionist, a Suffragette, a civil rights supporter, or whatever other label would be applied to someone who, at their time, was standing up against injustice.  Oppression and discrimination have always made my heart heavy.  I feel the need to do something.  To not, through my silence, grant approval.  I can't disguise my frustration and disgust in the face of inequality. 

I’ve come to believe that the struggle for the equal rights of those in the LGBT community is something I need to support.  When I really step back and envision myself in their shoes, I feel like I have a rock in my stomach and can't take a deep breath.  I may not be out there on the front lines with a sign and chanting for the news cameras, but I often feel that tug on my heart and cannot stand how my fellow citizens are too often treated horribly because of who they are, especially when hateful words and actions are cloaked in some kind of religious argument.

Recently my oldest son came home from school with a print-out about Boy Scouts.  Another boy in his class participates and he really, really wanted to join.  I told him we would think about it.  The more I thought about it though, the more I was bothered by the BSA exclusion of LGBT persons and began to doubt if participating in the organization was a good idea for us. 

I will pause here to make two points:  First, I recognize that as a private organization, it is the right of the BSA to make determinations about who is eligible for participation;  Even if I do not agree with their determination, I affirm their right to make it.  Second, I do not have a bad view of people who have participated in or currently participate in BSA activities.  This is not a judgment on those people, just a personal choice about the organization and its leadership for my family and me.

I know it might seem like this should have been a simple decision, but it was not.  If you knew my very reserved and introverted son, you would know what a huge deal it was for him to take such an interest in something and how very difficult it was to tell him no on this. 

I also wondered if my not letting him participate due to my beliefs on the matter was not the appropriate response.  As much as I truly believe in equality in this matter and that what I believe about it is "right," I still struggle with how that works when making choices for my kids.  I remember when I was 12 or 13 and my mom took my sisters and me to a Democratic political rally to hold up "Abortion Stops a Beating Heart" signs across the street in protest.  I contemplated if my not letting Luke do Boy Scouts because of my beliefs was somehow similar to my mom using her kids to help with an abortion protest.  I certainly hope that my kids grow up to be adults who take a stand for equality, but is denying them something they really want because of my stand on the matter the best way to teach them that?  In the end, I decided that if it were the way my child is or my relationship with my child’s other parent that were keeping him out of an organization, I would think that others keeping their kids from participating was an appropriate show of their disagreement with the way I was being treated.

It may be just a tiny thing, not something that anyone would think makes any difference.  I didn’t march down to the school, waving a banner, and give all the people signing up a piece of my mind.  I didn’t loudly protest to everyone within earshot the injustice I see in this type of discrimination.  But in the end, I decided I had to go with my belief that the commands that I follow to love my neighbor and treat others as I would want to be treated means taking a stand against discrimination.  I had to say no.  I truly believe that there will come a day when good will win out and discrimination against the LGBT community will not be tolerated.  Yes, it will come partly through protests and rallies and lobbying congress, but it will also be ushered in through the small choices we all make – in the voting booth, in the support we give to organizations that promote equality and withhold from those who don’t – in the choices we make for ourselves and our families. 

As Dr. Richard Beck so eloquently put it, “Goodness is, perhaps, more banal than heroic. Goodness is achieved through a million small acts of kindness, goodness, and generosity. Goodness is achieved through a million small acts of subversion, resistance, and protest. Millions of small Yes's and millions of small No's.”

Seasons

Spring, summer, and fall fill us with hope; winter alone reminds us of the human condition.
-Mignon McLaughlin

I've been thinking a lot about seasons. Partly because we are in the miserable midst of my least favorite season, but also because of how much things always change. I don't think I'm ready to fully explore this topic in my blog, but it is something that has been on my mind a lot the last few weeks. There are some things that are so important to do or experience for a while, but then you realize you are overstaying your welcome and it is time to move on. Sometimes the moving on is easier than at other times, but trying to stay in a season when it is over can cause you more heartache than it's worth.

I think that even in the things that are consistent in our lives, we experience seasons. In a new relationship or new friendship, you want to spend a lot of time talking and getting to know that person. You want to know all about them -- how they approach life, their memories, their quirks, their strengths, and their weaknesses. But as the relationship matures, you move past that foundational season. If it is a lasting relationship, you've already spent the time energy to create the basis from which future interactions will grow.

In a way this is comforting, but it can also be disconcerting until you learn to trust that the foundation you've established will be able to withstand the move to a new season. Sometimes it can't, and you have to come to terms with the fact that your relationship was only for a season. But when your relationship proves that it can withstand a transition, you can begin to add new dimensions to it that will only enrich it over time.

I do have more on this, but I'm still working it out for my self. When I'm ready, I'll post more, but this is what I have for now.

Stay or Go Away

To know when to go away and when to come closer is the key to any lasting relationship. ~Doménico Cieri Estrada


Since I started this blog, I've written a few posts about my boys. Not many, mind you, as this is a place for me to write my thoughts and practice my writing and is not a mommy blog. I have not written any posts about my husband. Other than maybe a few passing comments, I've barely mentioned him. However, when I read this quote, I immediately realized not only how true it is, but how much it applies to our relationship. Maybe this is odd, considering that I might seem like the kind of person who has to be close to the people I love all the time, but it is true. I thought that today, on the thirteenth anniversary of my very first date with my husband, I should at least say something about "us."


My husband does not need me and I do not need him. This is not to say that we don't love each other and don't want to be together. It's different. Ryan is the first guy I ever dated who did not make me feel smothered. Other guys called too much or were too needy. Other guys made me feel like I was going to go crazy trying to avoid them because they always had to be around or be talking to me. Ryan, not so much. Ryan did his own thing. Ryan made me feel wanted, but not needed. Sometimes it is nice being wanted, but not needed.

I'm not suggesting that I have relationships all figured out or that my relationship is perfect. Every person has their flaws, and therefore, it is impossible for any relationship to not have flaws. All I'm saying is that having our own time and our own things seems to contribute to the healthfulness of our relationship. And the conscious decision to want to be together, yet not need each other, is one of my favorite things about the man I love and me.

Hopes and Dreams 2010 Style

"I made no resolutions for the New Year. The habit of making plans, of criticizing, sanctioning and molding my life, is too much of a daily event for me." -Anaïs Nin

What an insane end to 2009! I spent most of Christmas day in the hospital waiting for my sister to give birth to my highly anticipated new nephew. He was born at 10:28 PM on Christmas day. I know I have another nephew and five nieces, but there was something special about this one. This nephew lives close enough for us to see him a lot and is the son of one of my very best friends and her wonderful husband. It was odd spending most of the day away from my boys and my husband, but I am so glad I was able to be there. Micah Ian is a beautiful baby and I might be just a little bit proud of him and my amazing sister. Can ya tell?

In other news, I did not make a official resolution for this year. The closest thing to a resolution is my commitment to write-every-day-in-January. I've tried other write-every-day months and managed to do pretty well, missing only two or three days. We will see how I do with this month, although it would be great if I actually had a post for every day come January 31. Other than that, I just have some things I hope I am able to do or accomplish in the coming year. And..... ta-da! Here they are, in no particular order:

Pay down some debt - I have a lot of debt. College is not free and we built a house before we paid off our student loans. Some may say that is foolhardy, but I would remind those people that we are not guaranteed tomorrow. I would rather enjoy the house I love with the people I love now, than save my entire life and end up dying before I live in a place I like. Priorities people. I have good life insurance.

Live more - I was reading an article in Reader's Digest about people who have become caregivers to their family or friends. I realized that at any time I could need the care of my loved ones or have a loved one become dependent on me for care. I realized that I should enjoy all my free time to the fullest, as I never know when it will end. 2010 is my year for living and enjoying the time I have.

Stop worrying about work - Work has really been stressing me out a lot. Office politics totally suck, my boss is super-stressed from all the pressure he is getting, and my job alternates between insanely busy or insanely boring. But, at least I have a job and there is absolutely nothing I can do about the people higher up. I need to just focus on doing a good job and not worry about the rest.

Read More - Oh my goodness... this is a huge one. I have a stack of books next to my bed just glaring at me for never reading them. I have to read all of them this year.

Ignore the "experts" - I know it's stupid. but I often read my Parents magazine or articles online and stress about all the ways I'm failing my kids. Well... all these people giving advice either have robots for kids or have never actually met a child. I need to stop stressing about what other people say and just parent my boys in the way that works and makes the most sense to me.

Lower my expectations - I know that sounds terrible, but I think part of why I am so stressed or frustrated with other people or annoyed with myself is because I have stupidly unrealistic expectations. People screw up and don't do what you wish they would. That is just part of living in this world and caring about people. Just love them and accept myself and stop worrying about expectations that go unmet.

I think that's a good start. Here goes nothin'.....

The Girl with the Red Pea Coat

"Sometimes it's a form of love just to talk to somebody that you have nothing in common with and still be fascinated by their presence." -David Byrne

Note: I totally wish I had thought of that quote. What a great thing to say.

People fascinate me. Well... okay. Some people fascinate me. Some people I cannot understand and honestly do not want to, but a lot of people have something really interesting about themselves. The other day I was at Whole Foods to pick up something for lunch. For the record, the Whole Foods near where I work isn't as bad as some Whole Foods in the rest of the country. (There are hippies who work there, but the area is mostly wealthy corporate men and their stay-at-home wives so it doesn't smell and I've never seen anyone there with dreads. Oh, and also, I don't live near where I work.)

Anyway, I was waiting in line at the Whole Foods deli to get something for lunch and the girl in front of me caught my attention. She was petite and thin, with very short dark hair styled in a black, plastic headband. She had about 8 piercings on her ears, skinny jeans, flats, and a pretty red pea coat. I guess I just noticed her because I was standing there waiting, but I don't know. I was strangely drawn to her. She got her food and left and I placed my order.

I had already forgotten about her by the time I got to the checkout. But as I was getting in my car, I looked up and saw her walking by. She had her deli meal in her hands in front of her, and on top, she had balanced a slice of white cake with white icing and a pastel icing flower. Why did she have that cake? Was she taking it to someone else? Was it her birthday and she had no one with whom to celebrate so she was buying it for herself? Was it a reward for some goal she'd achieved? Maybe she just likes cake? I'm guessing I have little in common with this twenty-something, artsy girl with the cake, but I really wanted to know her story. I really like to learn other people's stories.

Sometimes it seems someone has such a similar story as yours that you are bound to be friends. Then, for whatever reason, you just don't click. There are other people who, as much as they seem nothing like you on the surface, you listen to them and find that you have so much more in common that you could have possibly imagined. I guess that is part of why I love the Byrne quote so much. Learning the story of someone else doesn't make you immediate best friends or even mean you will ever talk to them again. Yet, learning their story does add just a little something to your own experience that wasn't there before. So I guess this is just a reminder to myself. I need to not be so busy and focused on my own life that I forget to listen to what other people have to talk about. I might find something fascinating that enriches my life more than I'd ever expected.

Live the Questions

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will find them gradually, without noticing it, and live along some distant day into the answer.

-Rainer Maria Rilke

It seems as though, sometimes, I'm just going along and living my life and not really paying all that much attention to how I feel.... and I suddenly realize that feel like I don't fit in. Anywhere. As though I looked up and either I had changed or everyone/everything else had changed and I wasn't told about it. A lot of the time, I don't feel this way, which is good since I really dislike it. But when I do, I just want to make it stop.

A friend once told me that she always feels like the kid who showed up half-way through the school year at a new school. I think that is a good way to explain this feeling. Even if you are caught up academically, everyone has already reached their quota of friends for the year and there isn't anything you can do to just blend in like you've always been there. You missed out on all those months of whatever happened... so..... yeah. You're the new kid and you don't belong.

I had a paragraph on why I might be feeling this way right now, but it was all conjecture on the perceptions of others. I don't think that is helpful to me right now. I think when I really boil it down, this feeling is because I am suddenly not comfortable in my own skin. I have all these questions and only some answers and I'm afraid if I'm just me and let myself be too comfortable, all of this craziness is just going to come gushing out. That I will start saying all of it out loud and completely freak people out. It seems safer to just make polite conversation. To talk about kids and work and the weather. To keep things more on the surface.

I know there are people with whom I do fit in. Some other kindred spirits who either feel the same way or don't mind being friends with the new kid. But they have their things too. They have to change and question and process and live. There are just those times when it feels like I need to process things in my own mind. And, despite that I know they would listen, I should just keep my insanity to myself. For now, anyway.

I really need to work on being able to deal with these times without it interfering with my self-perception. This awkward, out-of-touch thing originates with me. In me. When I found the quote above, I read it over and over, letting it sink in. I need to live like that. Not ignoring my questions, but not letting them consume me. I need to realize that I may find the answers, in time, through the moving on without them.

The People We Love

"You can kiss your family and friends good-bye and put miles between you, but at the same time you carry them with you in your heart, your mind, your stomach, because you do not just live in a world but a world lives in you." -Frederick Buechner

I've been thinking a lot about love and the people I love. I've been thinking of how terrible it is to hurt someone you love or to be hurt by someone you love. I think there was a time when I would have said that hurting someone you love is even worse than being hurt by someone you love. But lately I've come to think that worse than either of these is hurting for someone you love.

If you hurt someone you love, you can do everything in your power to make amends, to say you're sorry, and to try to set things right. Yes, it is terrible and you feel awful and you don't have control over if they will really forgive you. But if there is true love there and you are truly sorry and you really do not commit the same offense again, there can be healing. There can be restoration of the relationship. There can be forgiveness, and, after a time, the love will cover the hurt and there will be happiness again.

If someone you love hurts you, it is also terrible and you feel awful and you don't really have control over their choice to make amends or not. You can be devastated and feel that the world will never be the same again. But you do have control over how you handle it. If they are sorry and do whatever they can to make things right, you can draw on the love you have for that person to work toward forgiveness. If they are not sorry, it may take a long time to work through, but you can still learn from it. You can take that experience to become stronger and to be more empathetic of others who have the misfortune of the same experience.

But when you hurt for someone you love, you have no control. You have nothing but the anguish of their pain, pressing on your chest and welling up in your eyes and souring your stomach. It doesn't matter if it is a unforeseen tragedy or their own toxic choices that have caused their pain. You cannot change it and you cannot make it better and you cannot come up with any words to take it away. You can remind them how much you love them and you can pray for them and try to offer encouraging words, but none of these change their circumstances. It is something they have to work through. Yes. I think hurting for someone you love is worse than hurting someone you love and far worse than being hurt by someone you love.

I'm not sure where this leave us. As the quote at the top pointed out, we have a whole world living inside us. Is it better to limit the number of people you allow into that world in attempt to limit the pain we can feel? I don't think so.... but sometimes it really feels as though that would make life so much less painful.

Hair Color and Stuff

Today we were driving to church and Luke started saying things about each of us that match. Mommy and Luke both have blue eyes. Daddy and Mommy both have dark hair. Etc., etc... Then he said, "Me and Owen both have bright hair (By which he meant light hair. He always says 'bright' in place of 'light' when discussing color) and Mommy has dark hair. If Mommy had bright hair, she would be a boy too." Haha... I love kids' logic. So of course I reminded him that Daddy has dark hair too and he is a boy and that things like the color of your eyes or hair don't make you a boy or a girl. And we started talking about other ways we are alike and different.

Of course, I took the opportunity to talk about ways other people are like us or different from us, but how we are all people and God made everyone and loves us all the same. Some of us have light skin and some have dark. Some of us are tall and some are short. He named off some people we know who have darker skin than ours and I responded "Yep. There are lots of ways we are different, but because we are all people, we have a lot of things alike no matter how different we look. We treat everybody the same, right?" He nodded in agreement and then went on talking about something else.

But I actually teared up thinking about our exchange. Something about knowing that I needed to purpose to remind my kids of this over and over, and the thought that there are people out there who tell their kids the opposite, really bothered me. Maybe it's because we just passed the eighth anniversary of 9/11 or maybe it's just because I'm tired and allergy head which makes me more emotional, but I do worry about the world my kids are growing up in. I worry that I am trying so hard to teach them to be accepting and tolerant of differences and to be good members of society and to help others who need help, but that some of those things might get them bullied or ostracized or worse. I worry about all the people they will encounter who do not value any of those things. I hate that the time is coming when they will experience bigotry or prejudice or hate..... directed at them or not.

I guess all I can do is continue to teach them about the importance of acceptance and tolerance and helping when they can. And hope that there are enough other people out there who also value those things so they won't be alone.

One day our descendants will think it incredible

that we paid so much attention to things like the amount of melanin in our skin or the shape of our eyes or our gender instead of the unique identities of each of us as complex human beings.

-Franklin Thomas

thank you, e.e. cummings

it takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.
-e.e. cummings

There might be some people out there who are not afraid of or intimidated by anything. Nothing from their past haunts them. Nothing from their present sends chills up their spine. They face the future with complete confidence. I am not one of those people.

Sometimes something reminds me of the me I was when growing up and I get this odd, disoriented feeling. Although I know she is still there somewhere, in many ways, I don't even recognize that nerdy girl with the super long hair and enormous glasses. The girl who had the quilt-print comforter and read 'Christian' romance books. The girl who still believed in fairy-tale love and that everything was black and white and that good people got happy endings. That girl who wanted more than anything to fit in with all the conservative families surrounding her, despite that deep down she knew she never would.

I think that being back at my old church has really shown me something. That I like the person I grew up to be. I know I am not at all perfect and I realize that I still have so much to learn about so many things. But I think that the going away and becoming the me I am today was the best thing I could have done. I used to look at other people who have the life I would have had if I'd stayed and wonder how they could truly be happy. And then I realized that they, if they happened to give me any thought at all, would probably wonder the same about me.

Becoming who you really are doesn't always mean some life-altering choice or getting away from your roots or trying to be different from your family. Sometimes it does mean one (or all) of those things, but it's the being true to yourself part that gives you the courage to either continue on a path or to choose a new one.

I think what I like about the quote is that it reminds me that even though it may have been little steps I was taking toward becoming a different person from that one in my head in the past, when I look back I can see that it did take some courage to get from there to here. With all the second-guessing and self-doubts that I sometimes let creep in, it's nice to see that I have done something just a little bit courageous.

(Sorry if this post is a little too much "yay me!" but I think I kind of needed it after the week I've had. Revisions may be forthcoming after I re-read it in a day or two.)

Almost There

Two days left. This has been a really long month for me mentally. The self-imposed pressure of writing every day, combined with an unpaid week off work, the weird weather that made it seem more like fall than summertime (bleh!), and all these questions I'm trying to work through, has left me mentally and emotionally exhausted. I don't necessarily think this is negative, it's just the way I feel. I have more I want to write about my topic from Tuesday, but every time I sit down to write about it, whatever I put on the screen is all jumbled and confusing.

I want to write about religious tradition vs. biblical beliefs, but I still have so much research to do that I don't feel I can even begin to cover the topic. I do know that I am trying to sort out for myself what things I do or believe that are just traditions and then determine if those things are useful or helpful to me.

I want to write more about trust. I am still having trouble with this. I've thought a lot about
Isaiah 55:8 & 9, which reads, "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the LORD. "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." On one hand, it is reassuring to me, because it's a reminder that I am obviously not the first person to have questions about God and why he does what he does. That God sees the big picture and I can only see what's right in front of me. But it is also disconcerting because that doesn't answer questions to just say, "Well, he's God and we just can't know." I really don't think that's what God was trying to say, but sometimes it feels like it.

I want to write more about how I've often thought of my beliefs. I realized that because of so many negative things I dislike about 'Christianity' and many who profess it, I am moderately ashamed to say I am a Christian. I am not ashamed that I have a relationship with God, it's more some kind of misplaced guilt for being affiliated with a religion that people can so easily distort and have distorted for so many years. This guilt has impacted my life and decisions and opinions regarding church and people who attend church. I realize it is not my fault if other people get it so wrong, but I am having a really difficult time coming up with an acceptable answer, for myself and for others, as to why this happens and what I can do about it.

I want to write more about questions. I keep going back to one of my favorite Rob Bell excerpts:

Central to the Christian experience is the art of questioning God. Not belligerent, arrogant questions.... but naked, honest, vulnerable, raw questions, arising out of the awe that comes from engaging the living God. This type of questioning frees us. Frees us from having to have it all figured out. Frees us from always having to be right. It allows us to have moments when we come to the end of our ability to comprehend.

To me this is not about giving up and accepting that something doesn't makes sense to me. I truly believe it would be wrong to just resign myself to not understanding. For me, this is about accepting that I may not understand something right now, but that might be that because of where I am right now, I'm not able to comprehend. BUT, if I keep searching and asking and studying and questioning, I will at some point gain at least some level of understanding in answer to my questions. Something to look forward to.

And I want to write about how all of this has me thinking about the difference between knowledge and experience. Sometimes when I think about people who have different beliefs than I have, I catch myself thinking they are somehow so much more intellectual or enlightened. My beliefs can seem old and quaint and outdated. But that is all about knowledge. That is just picking up some books and reading them and saying that one sounds logical and reasonable while the other seems confusing and crazy. If you just think about it on the surface, if there were a perfect person who never made any mistakes or did anything wrong, why would he chose to die for something he didn't do, just to reconcile the rest of humanity to God? BUT, if you've experienced the relationship and the love, the same story is amazing and beautiful.

So... yeah. I still have more I need to explore in these areas and still more topics I simply couldn't form into decent paragraphs today. The knowledge vs. experience thing is really big for me right now. I am struggling with how to talk about it with people who have only the knowledge and not the experience. Not in a 'come over to my side' way. But for me it is like talking to someone about a friend that person has never met. And in some cases it is like me talking to someone about a friend they have never met, who to them seems like my invisible friend. I just want to be ready with an answer... not a canned, 'Christian' answer, but a real and personal answer, should anyone ask questions.

"Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful." - Hebrews 10:23

Funk

"Happiness is an attitude. We either make ourselves miserable, or happy and strong. The amount of work is the same." -Francesca Reigler

Yesterday, and all morning this morning, I have been in a serious funk. The thing I hate about when I get in a funk is that I don't seem to be able to just not be in a funk at will. There are all those annoying quotes (see above as an example) about attitude and choices and all that, but I haven't found anything that I can do or think that will just make me automatically have a great attitude. I think that being miserable all the time is more of a choice, but I think sometimes there is nothing you can to to prevent yourself from having an off day here and there. It's not really a choice or something you put effort into; it just happens. And some of the things people say to try to avoid/remedy a bad mood actually make it worse.

Here's another quote: "I had the blues because I had no shoes until upon the street, I met a man who had no feet." (Ancient Persian Saying) Yes, you feel really bad for that guy with no feet, but you still have no shoes. And he doesn't need shoes. So.... thinking about someone else who has it worse, but still has a good attitude, does not alleviate a funk. Someone else having a crappy day or crappy circumstances does not mean that your day or circumstances are any less crappy. Maybe you're not as bad off as they are, but how is that supposed to make you feel better? You're certainly not happy things are worse for them. And this only makes you feel bad for that person AND feel guilty that you aren't able to handle your bad (but not-quite-as-bad) day as well as they are able to handle their worse life.

Focusing on the positive also does not help. According to a Maori Proverb, "Turn your face to the sun and the shadows fall behind you." Yeah? Well.... sometimes it's cloudy and gross and you haven't seen the sun for days. When I try this approach and think about the good things that I should be thankful for, like the people I love and a steady income, I feel guilty that I am in a funk when I seem to have no real reason to be. And I feel guilty because some people don't have those things. If there is anything worse than a funk, it's a guilty funk.

So.... now I'm not even sure of what the point of this post was going to be when I started writing it. Maybe someday I'll come up with some magic formula I can take when I start feeling guilty about hating a crappy day. Or maybe I will learn to just let it run it's course without trying to do things that make me feel guilty. Or maybe someday I'll just get a better attitude.

Thank you Friedrich Nietzsche... and Mom

"The surest way to corrupt a youth is to instruct him to hold in higher esteem those who think alike than those who think differently." -Friedrich Nietzsche

I was homeschooled from the time I entered 4th grade until the end of my junior year of high school. As I've already stated, I grew up in an extremely conservative church. My family is Republican, pro-life, pro-family, pro-prayer-in-schools, pro-NRA. Even when I read these things, I get a stereotype in my head of what someone who came from this kind of family would probably be like. They would either be the same.... or they would completely rebel and go 180 degrees in the opposite direction in life.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately... and how I didn't end up going down either of those paths. Oddly enough, I have to give my parents, especially my mother, some credit for it. Despite how strongly they hold to all of those beliefs, I have never once seen either of my parents treat someone badly for being different from them or for believing differently. While I never remember a time they specifically said "It is not okay to alienate someone or put them down because they are different from you" that idea was always understood in my family. My mother was always just as welcoming to the perpetually dirty kids from up the street who wandered the neighborhood till past our bedtime, as she was to our next-door neighbor kids who were always clean and called home for supper at 6. She was just as chatty and polite with the mom in the grocery aisle who was cursing at her kids and buying only cigarettes and soda as she would be with another homeschooling mom if she bumped into her in the store.

I guess what I took away from this is that people are people and you should treat them the same. Not that I'm really that great at it. My mom has a lot more grace than I do (she can even be polite to someone who is talking down to her, which is something I will never be able to do). But I think that spending my growing-up years with her helped me to see you shouldn't reject someone just because they aren't like you. That, in turn, helped me to be more open to other points of view. As I moved away from the little conservative bubble I grew up in and really began to form my own beliefs, I was even more able to study and appreciate views that weren't like mine. Granted, I can be really passionate about what I believe, not just in my (for lack of a better term) 'religious' beliefs, but also in what I believe is fair or unfair, right or wrong, good or bad in general. But I can appreciate, and even enjoy, discussing other points of view regardless of how different from my own they may be.

I know my mom isn't exactly a fan of Nietzsche. I'm sure that me writing a blog about her that begins with one of his quotes would seem extremely odd to her (heck, it seems weird to me and I'm the one writing it), but I think it's also a testament to her. That any of her kids would take a Nietzsche quote and be able to appreciate the truth in it, says to me that she is more than just a conservative, former-homeschooling mom. She tried to set a good example and teach us to think for ourselves.

You don't have to agree with someone to appreciate them or their point of view. I'm so glad this is something I've learned, as I would have missed out on many good experiences and relationships if I hadn't. I sincerely hope this is something I can teach to my own children.... that while they should carefully consider what they believe and why, they should never give more value to people who agree with them than they give to those who don't.