Surving the 5 year old Check Up

So I should be doing anything but blogging right now, I have a 3/4 packed apartment that needs to be organized now that we aren't going to finish moving just yet. I should be organizing or working on my writing for practicum but this was a big deal. Also I haven't had a break in over a year and after another whirlwind interviewing/discerning weekend I need a little down time. Besides if I wasn't writing right now I would be sitting her day dreaming about going home and to the beach for the weekend.

A few weeks ago we hit that whole turning 5 starting kindergarten milestone. Yesterday we had the check up that goes with it. Now if you have kids I know what you might be thinking, 4 is the hard one, 5 is a piece of cake. True, unless of course you have watched it all go wrong at 5 before.If you don't know me well enough to know my story let me catch you up. When I turned five I went from average kid to over sized kid, it was when kids started asking me things like, "Do you bounce?" on the play ground. It was nearly 20 years before I discovered a hormone problem that messes with how I process food, I work hard now at having a good relationship with food, yet I am still over sized. When my favorite youngest brother was five he woke up with a swollen gland one day.
 PAUSE
Let me tell you how much my child is like my brother... their personalities are very similar. When said younger brother would upset me he would do things like eat shaving cream to make me laugh. When said child gets in trouble she puts on funny costumes to make me laugh. It makes me a firm believer in nature. Some days she says things that I am sure he has telepathically put in her head, her fearlessness and so on. It's all just like him.
RESUME
The swollen glad didn't respond to the first antibiotic or the second but it did result in a trip to a specialist to reveal it was actually a freaking tumor which by the time surgery happened was the size of a softball and limiting range of motion in the neck. Years of hellish treatment followed and eventually the cancer was gone, he grew up to be a typical thorn in my side little brother clear through our young adult hood. I loved almost  every minute of it, I can't remember a moment from diagnosis on when I wasn't grateful for the very breath he breathes.

This summer I did Clinical Pastoral Education where we had to talk about what we brought into patient rooms with us. When the entirety of your childhood trauma revolves around hospitals and illness and death (Said brother wasn't the only sick one) it gives you PLENTY of fodder for conversation. One of the things I discussed was my anxiety around said kiddo turning five. One of the great insights I received was that to continue to no freak my kid out and stay sane I needed to find ways to express my anxiety. That's where you all come in, thanks for not charging me!

That all being said every time the kid so much as sneezes there is a little voice in the back of my head that screams "OH GOD THIS IS IT!" I have to shut her up and fast. When the kiddo turned one and her head jumped into the 120th percentile in circumference and we had to make a trip to the pediatric neurologist while dad was on a business trip I had to bring my mother with me who of course was probably as tense and about to barf as I was because said brother is her kid after all. Turns out after measuring my head the doctor had a good conclusion, genetics, I gave her my big head. We monitored it for awhile but she has grown into that noggin.

The four year old check up was 4 freaking booster shots and made me want to die but my anxiety before hand wasn't too bad. There is always a little but it wasn't too bad. Yesterday though even though she appears to be perfectly healthy I was a mess. The only concerns we had were minor, a spot that mysteriously appeared above her lip this summer, her flat feet, some digestive issues. Turns out the little spot on her lip is blood vessel related and will eventually disappear. Her feet are fine. We are working on her holding her potty needs too long. The kid got the all clear, healthy height and weight, good eyes and ears and all that jazz.

The most uncomfortable part of the whole thing was my remembering at the last minute at the 3 year old check up they tested her blood sugar and I had promised no needles. I kept thinking crap I am going to have to fight a nurse... not so we were good. Then there was how she kept telling them awkwardly that she dressed herself that morning with mommy's help just a little on the shirt. Earlier, she refused to dress herself, which I am sure is part of her adjusting back to life with us after a summer with grandma. I told her five year olds dress themselves and when the doctor asked if she could dress herself I would have to say no so she needed to just get dressed so we didn't have the doctor worried. Well I guess that stuck with her, not the best parenting moment I guess but it was better than screaming at her.

Today I am grateful for the all clear. I can now hold my breath until we hit six and then falsely believe we are safe. If I get all hyped up over ear infections, colds, or a stomach flu this year... have a little grace for me, ok?

Unexpected Kindergartener

There is a lot going on in our lives right now and I have debated the wisdom of writing about it in such a public forum, especially as I seek a call. However, even Pastors face challenges and I think there is something to be said about transparency.

Yesterday was supposed to be my daughter's first day of kindergarten. We are in this great transition right now and we have to kind of plan life one day or month at a time. Last spring we decided to keep her in her school to provide continuity because we anticipated moving before the year's end, something we wanted to make as easy as possible for her. Then two weeks ago all of our well meaning planning got turned on it's head when we found the end of our lease fast approaching with no option to renew (that's life in student housing). The complication here is that I am actively call searching which means I cannot commit to a new lease, I have to find somewhere month to month. Add to that some travel this weekend for a potential opportunity and I won't know what we need until we return from our trip. So we have had to make a lot of decisions quickly, first we rented a large storage unit and we have been slowly packing and putting all our stuff into storage. Then we had to make a decision about school and decided to keep her home with me and do a form of home school until we found where we would land. That brings us to yesterday when I was taking my daughter to her school (she did two years of preschool there) to have lunch with her friends from last year and her teachers. All morning she was asking if it was time yet and begging to go to school. Then we got there and she wanted to be dropped off. We had already paid for this month so she could stay. I ended up dropping her off half way through her first day of kindergarten after talking to her teachers and the staff. She wants to go to school and not stay home, we believe in child led learning, so we are letting her spend the next two weeks in school. I left with unexpected time on my hands and what I call an accidental kindergartener.

Jump to today, when I was again with unexpected time on my hands, and by some small miracle my muscle spasms and excruciating back pain shockingly gone.  I had to balance working on packing with rest because I knew if I over did it with the packing that the spasms would return. I spent the morning organizing our moving mess so that there was space to live or at least eat. The friend who helped me survive seminary was here helping me making sure I didn't over do it. I took a break at lunch time and then headed out to purchase more boxes. I was pondering things, like wow I could be three days away from homelessness at this time next week. (We have some contingency plans so not really homeless but with out our own place.) I thought about what God might want me to notice in this. I went into a store I really don't like because I knew where the boxes were and that they would fit into our budget. I had 20 minutes left before school pick up time so I listened to some music in the parking lot and then headed out closer to pick up time. As I was pulling out there was a man sitting in the grass with a card board sign. HOMELESS written across the top with anything will help underneath. I thought to myself I/we am not facing true homelessness. I made eye contact with the man and he waved a very friendly wave, I liked him. I waved back, looked at the clock, looked for change, I had nothing but my debit card. I had ten minutes to get to the school and there was no way I could turn back and get some cash. I was frustrated again, I am never prepared, I have got to find a system that provides me with a way to respond on the fly. Some gift cards or something in my car. This was a healthy dose of perspective, I started thinking about all I have that I could potential sell to help get us through this thing place. I have a lot.

I came home to an email offer of a place to stay rather than our plan to take up residence in an extended stay hotel for a week or two. This generosity, genuine concern, and sense of care made me smile and tear up all at once. It was certainly not expected. Tonight I went to class and received another offer. We have had a few others as well from friends and family near and far. Grace.

When talking about this with one of my friends I was saying you know sometimes we need a sign and we look everywhere and can't find the sign we want. Perhaps this is a sign I didn't want. She responded God just pushed you off the cliff. Yes, yes God did. I hope that God will be there to catch me as I get close to the bottom and there in these offers of hospitality and grace is God reaching out and catching me/us. The hard part as a helper type is to accept help when I need some. I want to be strong and independent and self sufficient. I have to say yes to offers of help not just for my sanity and my humanness but because if I don't I/we won't survive and that is the best lesson in community, perhaps especially Christian community I could ever give.

Today I am grateful for God working through our chosen community to catch us and for the strength to say yes to help.

Love, Hate, and Lessons

One of the awesome things about the privilege of seminary is that I have gotten to know those rare gems of people that are both brilliant and incredibly compassionate. I have great hope that the folks I have encountered here are world changers. Actually I shouldn't just limit it to seminary folks, most folks I have met in Louisville have been the kind of folks that I think are going to change the world. A side effect of this is we tend to think critically about everything. Sometimes I find myself doing this as I put toilet paper in my shopping cart, what is the environment impact, was this made in fair conditions, is there a better choice, if there is can I afford it? If I can find it in the budget to send my child to private school should I? Other children don't get that option, is it ok to use my own privilege like this? Would my money be better spent on working toward change in the public school system, or just feeding people? This thinking sometimes overwhelms me, a lot!

Let's add in all those awesome people that I don't often see in person these days as I have graduated but alas we have social media. Everyone has a cause (this is a good thing), people who think like me (as in all that over thinking) are calling me out on my choices through their shared info graphics, etc. Sometimes I wonder if there is anything left that isn't horrible in the world? It's hard to say all this but it leaves me wondering, how do we draw the line between world changers and bitter persons who enjoy nothing? If we believe, as I do, that life is a gift meant to be cherished, are we getting it right if we never get an ounce of pleasure out of it. If we claim that God created us, every part of us, then wasn't our sense of pleasure a gift from God?

A few months back I was doing that whole awkward parent hovering at a kid's party thing. We made it a point to take our little lady to these parties even though they are torturous for our  introverted selves. Munching on party snacks because there is nothing else to do, awkwardly standing in the corner trying to balance hovering and normal. (We were well on our way into a phase of less hovering when our daughter broke her arm, I am now back to a full time hoverer who tries to hide it.) Another one of the moms and I started chatting, it was clear pretty quickly that we didn't have much aside from similar aged children in common. So we stumbled along and the topic of the movie Frozen came up. Let me come clean, I really like Disney, it was a source of happiness in my childhood when our family had some dark days. A while back I read a book about how princess culture is hurting our young girls and breathed a sigh of relief when my daughter rejected the whole thing but she was immediately enamored with Elsa. I mean come on kid Anna is so much cooler! I digress!

So here we are having this already awkward conversation when the conversation gets a little harder Frozen is being blasted for what a miserably bad story it is, followed by it's horrible I can't even go see it. WAIT you haven't seen it? Then how do you know? I just nod along. There were some good points here, the boy tricks a girl to make her fall in love, which yes is true but in the end the sisters learn that their love as sisters has value. Also, we don't condone physical violence in our home, but Anna decks that dude right in the face and he goes all man over board into the icy waters below and that was kind of awesome. I got nothing on that locking Elsa in her room bit, Elsa is going to need some serious therapy. All this to make a point there were two totally different views here and I think both of them were valid and OK. I have been thinking about this though, for a while now. There is a choice that happens every time we interpret something which is pretty much nonstop for us humans, we are constantly interpreting through all five senses. I noticed my choice here, it had been to see the good parts of the storyline even though there were bad parts. Should I only expose my child to stories that are completely and 100 % happy? NO! NO! NO! I will not because here's the deal, life is NOT all happy. The truth of the matter is there are people out there that will try to trick people or at least not be honest about who they are or what their intentions are, so that they can get what they want. Sure it might be a traumatic story line for some, but it's life for others now isn't it? Even Elsa being locked in her room could be used as a commentary to teach about alot of the miserable things in this world.

I have to be intentional to choose carefully how I see (interpret) things. I am trying to choose to see the lesson or the love rather than the hate. It's hard to see the hate and hate isn't necessary for a good lesson on anything in life. We are so caught up in being right that we are painfully divided. Politics, religious beliefs, and don't even get me started on motherhood (I could say parent hood but mom's are so dang catty sometimes and I have never heard dads get into heated debates about breast feeding and day care). I think part of this reason is that we are ALL terribly insecure in what it means to be human and alive and the meaning of it all, especially when it seems like people die in senseless conflicts and from disease and disasters... every. single. day.

So here is where I am at, eggs are torture, my peanut butter is killing apes, my toilet paper is causing massive deforestation of precious rain forests, my clothes have likely been sewn together by children forced into slave labor, my car is killing the world and supporting big oil, the environment is in crisis and we need to do something, the very keys I am typing on could have been assembled in some horrific prison camp in China, both honey and avocados are nearing extinction, riots because of and followed by police brutality, wars between Israel and Palestine, terrorist groups, someone is trying to use their morals to oppress _______ (insert group of people there). You get the point it is easy to be overwhelmed with just this short list. Am I suggesting that we just turn a blind eye? No! Absolutely not! However if we consume our lives with worry and anger we miss the gift of our very lives. How do we balance our call to LOVE people and social justice with actually enjoying the gift of our lives? I am not sure I have to full answer but choosing to see the love, the places we can learn from the hurt in the world. Let us not be consumed by HATE because when we fight hate it is easy to do so with hatred in the opposite direction. Let us continue to think critically about what we do but let us not let life pass us by with out any enjoyment at all. Let us continue to love. Let us continue to learn.

Let us be honest...
Lest you think I am preaching at you from my soap box and just merely pointing a finger... I did the very thing I am writing about this morning. I opened facebook, there at the top of my news feed was a picture of two of my former students (whom I miss very much) with their dads at a gender specific parent event. I "liked" these photos with out hesitation. Then I thought to myself I always avoid these kinds of events because they leave hurting kids out, the ones whose dads are sick, in prison, dead, or the ones who have two moms etc. I think like this because I was that kid, the one whose dad was sick. I spent most of my life in relationships that provide me with a "replace a dad". You know what though I stopped myself, this picture wasn't about me at all or as much as it pains me the hurting kids who could have possibly been left out. It was about two boys beaming with pride because they got to be with their dads. I am so very grateful to see dads being involved in their kid's lives as I would be with any parent. Really if anything we need more of those "replace a dad (parent)" characters to step up so no kid is left out.

All that to say it's hard work to think like this but I don't have a choice, if I didn't I would crawl into the bed and put the covers over my head and never get back out. And don't you worry there are a ton of situations where I can never find the Love, the Good, the lesson.

So... let us continue to change the world.


Update: 
So by now everyone on social media has seen or heard of the ALS ice bucket challenge. Basically you get the challenge and you have 24 hours to either donate $100 or $10 and post a video of yourself getting doused with a bucket full of ice water. I saw this back in the spring as church mission trip fund raiser. Now I find myself wondering how many times I am going to be asked to dump ice water on myself. It was maybe five days into the challenge when I saw the first anti ice bucket meme, looks like a missionary in Africa and the graphic is something along the lines of "You mean people are wasting perfectly good clean water to not donate to charity."  First in theory people should be donating either way which seems evident by the numbers reported because millions have been raised. Here's the thing about clean water in the US vs. places where there isn't easy access to clean water, we can't get it there. I know this because I tried! six years ago I found myself in East Africa with a group of people had very little access to clean water. When I came home during a brutal heat wave and I saw all the ways people use water that seem wasteful and cried my eyes own. It was my own use of water that brought me to that point as I was power washing deck furniture. It seems absolutely ridiculous that I would use perfectly clean water to spray through a high powered hose to get dirt off some chairs. So I stood there power washer nozzle in hand tears streaming down my face. The truth hit me then by circumstance of birth I live in a place where I can have a deck, chairs, and what most days seems like unlimited access to clean water. I can raise money for wells but I can't ship water, I can't get my clean water halfway around the world with out spending enough money to have built a well. Here's the thing if you have ever swam in a pool, went to a water or spray park, watered your flowers, washed your car, taken a long HOT shower... you have participated in wasting perfectly good water. I don't know how I made it a whole week with out being challenged but today it came I was challenged by my niece and so as I type this I have a large drink cooler outside filling with rain water. I will likely buy some ice to put in there because I have a microscopic  fridge. Money I could use to for better things or even put into my donation. Wait I know what you are thinking, the ice isn't rain water, nope it's not but have you ever bought some ice to fill a cooler to say I don't know keep your beer cold? I guess you wasted some water then too, unless you put the ice in your beer. And you never know maybe this research will lead to a cure or prevention and then the person who will find a way to provide clean drinking water to all people won't be taken out by it. It's a long shot but hey... any thing is possible.

Emotions

Last weekend I preached at my home church, that is seminary speak for the church that I grew up in, which is also the church that has endorsed me through this school and ordination process. I was so excited to preach at home. I was also really nervous,  it would be the first time my mentor of nearly 14 years would hear me preach. I knew with out a doubt that he would give me honest and constructive feed back, if it went well no worries, if it went poorly I worried I would be a terrible disappointment. Even with some of my family present, my mentor was the only person I was nervous about. It went well better than I imagined it would.

There were several things though that I didn't expect. As our time of worship began the thought occurred to me that the next time I worship in this place will likely be my ordination. I sat with that in the quiet empty church after worship for awhile. This is the church that welcomed me at 15 when I didn't know what church was. This is where I was confirmed, ordained a ruling elder, married, prayed for, commissioned, where our daughter was baptized, this is home. I learned to be a church leader and a teacher here. I sat in the quiet I shed a few tears. As I enter in to this time of transition, it seems many moments are becoming bitter sweet. These tears were relief that this process is nearly over and the nervousness about what comes next. They were happy but unexpected tears. 

During worship something else happened, toward the end of my sermon, something I can only call the Spirit came over me. Later my mentor asked me about the energy in the end of the sermon, it was only then that I realized it was evident to other people. This was my first preaching experience where I was aware of the Spirit moving in me as I was preaching, it is hard to describe, but it was certainly full of life giving energy.

I still wasn't done with the unexpected emotions. My Aunt came that morning to hear me preach, my dad's sister. She has been incredibly supportive and encouraging as I have taken on seminary, something I find myself regularly grateful for. It was great to look out and see her as we worshiped. After church she told me how proud of me she was and motioned that she had to wipe away a tear during the sermon. Now as an aunt myself I get being proud of your niece or nephew.  She has always been as supportive as possible and shows up when ever she can. On this day though it was something more for me. Most of my readers know my dad passed away after a long illness in my late teens, he had been sick most of my life. As I processed all that had happened that morning as we rode home, I realized  I was gifted with what I can only call a place holder. She was standing where her brother could not, she was proud for both of them, her affirmation for me was the closest thing that I will ever have to affirmation from my Dad. Perhaps I understand this differently now because after the sudden passing of my sister in law, I find myself trying to be at the important events in the lives of my niece and nephew, to show extra support for them as the navigate this messy life. I cannot replace the presence of their mother but I can hold the holy space that is for their mother. When you loose a parent at a fairly young age, you get used to not having them there for the big life events like graduations, weddings, the birth of children. These places though also open us up to the tender wonder, what would my dad think? Would he be proud? So in this tender moment, I am happy to accept the closest thing I have to his voice, his sister's affirmation. 

While we are on the topic of place holders, I am forever grateful for my mentor, who has consistently been willing to hold the dad space for me. I don't think he became my mentor because he thought I needed a dad but he hasn't been afraid to help me work through some of those dad issues that come up. All I will say is that we shared tender moments where I was able to see for the first time what holy work it is to hold the place for one who can't be there. When your mentor beams with pride there isn't much more you need in the world. 

Today I am grateful for the people in my life who have taken on the holy work of being a place holder for my dad. Who have through their commitment to me have allowed me to hear his voice, know his love, and continue to grow. May you be blessed with such love and support from the place holders in your life.

My Health Care Secret

Maybe my title should say "and other little secrets" that I am about to make public. Recently many of my colleagues participated in the "SNAP challenge" where they would live on the allotted amount of money a food stamp recipient or their family would receive. I did not participate, mainly because we lived on foodstamps when we first moved here. Our meager savings depleted quickly, we moved during the "end" of the economic down turn, it was difficult for my husband to find full time work that actually offered full time hours each week. He was sent home early more often than not.I have been taught by my culture that being on food stamps is shameful, for losers who want a free ride. Let me say clearly, I have never believed that. I believe that food stamps and other public assistance programs are needed in any culture.  Then there I was in line at the food store with my food stamp card. Most of the time they kept it discrete but not always, "I need help with food stamps over here" has been yelled across the check out lanes when my little card had an issue. I was so ashamed that we needed food stamps, I didn't talk about it, except with a select few people who I deemed safe. Our time using food stamps was just a few months, eventually the hubs found full time work, and we were able to buy food.

Then the health care problem arose. While we were doing much better financially we had to find a way to get health care. Sounds simple right? Wrong. To be a full time student, I must carry at least minimal health coverage. We have a child, I have a family history, I know it is not wise to go uncovered. So, we have found ways in which to get coverage. Coverage offered by my husband's employer is not affordable, it would take half his pay check each month. Buying coverage on our own, also out of the question, he has a preexisting condition, I have one that some count as such. Either way we were risky which made our premiums through the roof. We settled on the student insurance offered through our denomination. Last year we paid $700 a month for coverage that didn't really kick in until we met our high deductibles, so even though we were paying $700 a month, any illness meant that we were facing bills. And where on earth does a student come up with that kind of money every month? Well, I had to take student loans, I will be paying for that insurance for a very long time. Again we know the wisdom or the lack there of in taking on this sort of debt. We simply could not afford insurance and rent with one pay check. I was too far in to quit and if I dropped to half time so I could work and study I would loose my financial aid and our childcare costs would double. It was a rock and a hard place. Then the notice came our premiums would be going up to $805 a month. There was no wiggle room in the budget, panicked we researched options. We still couldn't afford comparable coverage through an employer.

What were we going to do? I found our state's healthcare website for the Affordable Care Act. We will not refer to this as Obamacare on this blog, because it takes the very important, affordable out of the name, something I believe was strategic. I learned that we were at the very least eligible for assistance. I signed up early and fell victim to a computer glitch. One that took me hours to undo and got us coverage just under the wire for 2014. I do not blame the President or a political party for this glitch. I doubt that either was personally responsible for programing software. It turns out our daughter is eligible for free healthcare through the state. The hubs and I are eligible for discounted insurance. I tried to pay for my daughter because it is simply easier to all be on the same plan but it doesn't work like that, so for now we have two different plans. It took some work on my part ... but lets just say this year our insurance will cost less than our rent and utilities combined, which we couldn't say about 2013.

We narrowly avoided a healthcare disaster at the end of 2013. Our kiddo broke her arm, badly. It required two different ERs, a two night hospital stay, surgery, pins, stitches, a cast, slings, a "magic mitten" for showering. Our insurance premium was late (so irresponsible, right?)because if we had paid it we wouldn't have been able to feed said kiddo. Things had gotten tight a few months earlier when I paid tuition thinking that I had a reimbursement coming, that actually wasn't.  Luckily we got the payment in two days after the injury and it was covered. We had to basically empty our bank accounts to pay it and survive the month. Now we will recover from this, but I can easily see how one broken arm could bankrupt a family.I haven't even mentioned the time I would have had to have taken off of work had I not been a student. Do you see how quickly this cycle could swallow a family that was just barely making it?

We have benefited greatly from the new health care. We have been strong believers in health care for all people, especially children. While I certainly think there are flaws in the Affordable Care Act, I think it is a step in the right direction. Here's the thing though, I haven't told many people about how we have benefited. Even though I might have cried a little when I saw how much money we would be saving, and that feeding our kid healthy food might not be so much of a challenge in the coming months. It feels a lot like another dirty little secret. I do not think social media is the place to push our political agendas, our belief systems, in little snippets and conversation that allows for us to cowardly hide behind our screens. I wonder if this blog post is any different. This week though I have been pushed over the edge, too many people have posted about those benefiting from health care, are getting a free ride they don't deserve. Let me say, this is not a response to a single post, article, or blog, but rather a response to a group of voices. 

Here's the thing, I don't feel like my husband and I are lazy people taking a free ride on the backs of our hard working friends. Risking sounding like I am completely self absorbed, I am kind of a highly driven person, I have to be to do what I do. Maybe you feel differently about us, if so then perhaps we weren't friends at all. If you say oh no but you are different, I want to challenge you on that. Are we really? The only thing that I see that makes us different is that we, in theory, will have a chance to raise our income when I finish school. Our "poverty" is because of my education. We do not live in poverty, we know that, I want to make that clear. I understand though that for those who do live in poverty it is an endless cycle, it isn't about being strong enough to pick yourself up and better yourself. Issues of poverty are not black and white, cut and dry. They are complex, no two situations are the same. I spend some of my internship working in a food pantry in a low income neighborhood, I do so humbly, knowing that one missed pay check, would change which side of the counter I stand on.

There you have it, our little health care secret. We are the free loaders clinging to your hard working back. We are the people who didn't go to the doctor before when we should have because we couldn't afford our co pays, so essentially we are the ones that are going to be making it harder to see your doctor. Sorry about that waiting. Thanks for the free ride. Don't worry, in a few years when we have two incomes and I am paying for all that health insurance in loan payments, and my taxes are higher than I have ever seen, I won't be complaining. I will happily pay taxes toward health care coverage because no one's first thought when they see their little girl screaming in pain as her arm flops about, should be "Oh God, the insurance is late, how are we going to afford this?" It wasn't my best moment, but it happened people, we didn't delay getting her care, we took her in minutes to the ER, not knowing how we would pay for it. Luckily it has worked out.

Remember, I am not earning these degrees so that I can get personal gain, I know I likely will not be a millionaire. I am gaining this crazy education so I can serve people. If my tax dollars help pay for someone else's broken arm, cancer, check up, I am OK with that. My tax dollars paying for war is another story and another post.

Today I am grateful for health coverage that isn't putting me in debt, for the privilege of pursuing higher education, and the platform to express my views.

Santa.

I read parenting blogs from time to time. I shouldn't because they just make me mad. I am not angry that parents want to share their opinions, heck I do that too. I am angry because no matter what blog you read there is only one right way to raise a kid, the way this particular parent is doing it. I don't believe that's true, I think there are many "right" ways to raise a kid. Mostly it has to do with the decisions you make for your family, are they healthy, do they work for you? If so great, if not well you can always make new decisions, I know we have to reevaluate from time to time.

I am not setting out to write another blog post justifying why I am right in my (our) parenting choices. I fear that may be exactly what I do. Christmas time is upon us, we call it Advent in the church. It's only December 3 and the posts for and against the Elf on a Shelf have popped up, followed by the ones about Santa. They kind of make my skin crawl, how can these Christmas traditions be SO polarizing?

First I will come clean, Santa comes to our house, last year Garfleshnickle the elf joined us for the month of December. I am well on my way to being an ordained teaching elder, so you guessed it, we talk a whole lot about Jesus too. You should also know that I grew up with Santa, so did my husband. I'm in seminary, so clearly Jesus is still important to me. My hubby may not be in seminary but I assure you he follows Jesus.

Christmas morning was magical in my house as a child. The glittering tree lights, the anticipation of what would be in the wrapped packages, and cookies were allowed for breakfast. It was also one of those special days for us when we didn't think about anyone being sick, we were just a family. We weren't a family with a pediatric cancer patient, we weren't a family with a terminally ill dad or Pop Pop (grandpa), we weren't a family eating government surplus peanut butter; no on Christmas morning the worrying took a back seat. For that one day, we were kids, there was hope in the midst of those less than ideal circumstances. The first year my father was sick, folks from his work showed up with huge bags of presents so that on Christmas morning my mom would have something to give us. I learned so much about the spirit of St. Nicholas that year. Santa Clause is more than just a guy in a red suit who employs elves and flying reindeer. There is something about that moment, that day, that has stuck with me, that has made Santa forever "real" to me. I see in the Santa story a narrative about generosity, the depth of goodness in people, and the change one person can make in the life of another.

Thus far, our daughter hasn't had to eat surplus peanut butter, no one in her life is terminally ill, and since she doesn't have a sibling we aren't living with a pediatric cancer patient. Then again all those things were true for me at 4 years old too, but by 7 my story changed. I want her to experience the wonder, the magic, the anticipation, while she is little. I know I only get a few years of her being this open to it, 5 years from now the world will have started to teach her to question things, to appreciate the "real" things and brush off childish things.  Remembering those Christmas celebrations, gave me hope in the darkest days, that things would be OK. Even now I remember them with great joy, I tear up remembering my dad's coworkers showing up with the presents because now as a mom, I can understand what that must have felt like to my mom. Perhaps relief, perhaps joy, or perhaps love. I don't know what beliefs were held by my dad's coworkers, but looking back, those bags seem a whole lot like an expression of God's love, or perhaps love for the neighbor.

So I am not worried about Santa and Jesus coexisting in our house. I am not worried about the day when little L figures out that Santa is more about a spirit of giving than a man in a red suit. I am not worried about her never trusting what we say again, actually I hope at some point she questions everything we have ever told her because it means she is learning to think critically for herself. (I know I will regret that statement in about 10 years.) I am not worried about her not understanding the "true meaning of Christmas", she has that birth narrative down. I will spare you all of my thoughts about how Santa actually can be a tool to explain the anticipation and hope of Advent.

Here is what I am asking of you, if you don't "do" Santa in your house, could you try hard not to spill the beans to my kid? We only get to experience this excitement and wonder for a few short years. I won't try to convince your child Santa is real, you don't tell mine he isn't, fair enough? Both beliefs are OK and we can live together with both.

Now, for what I am worried about. No matter who your family's presents come from on Christmas morning, parents or Santa, there is something that is bothering me. The toys, the clothes, the electronics, it doesn't matter if you have the 1 gift limit or if your tree is barely visible from the stacks of presents surrounding it. All Advent we will anticipate the coming of a savior, a savior who breaks free the chains of bondage, a savior who brings peace, a savior who brings hope for a better world, a savior who will call us to love with God's love. We will celebrate the birth with gifts that represent God's gift to us. The problem lies in the oppression and unjust treatment of the people who have made our gifts. How can we celebrate Jesus birth with piles of things that were likely made by people who are subject to unjust labor practices? Is there a child somewhere that is suffering, so that on Christmas morning my beloved child can have a new toy? My stomach turns at the answer, because I know that likely the answer is yes. Is it just that children around the world will go hungry on Christmas day, while my kid gets to play with her brand new toys, wearing her brand new clothes, her well fed belly in our warm home? It is not just.

I am guilty of contributing to this injustice.

This Advent, this Christmas, I will not wrestle with the idea of Santa Clause or the Elf on the Shelf. I will wrestle with how we can work as a family, as a church, as a society, to make Christmas day and everyday one that brings justice to the way in which we consume. Know this is a deep struggle for me, I just told you about the joy of Christmas morning. I have to find a way to teach my child about the injustice in the world while preserving her innocence. The damage is done for this year, my shopping is nearing completion, Christmas morning will be just like it always has. How do I change that next year? Can I preserve the magic and seek justice? There are no easy answers and I suspect I will wrestle with this for a long time.

Today I am grateful for the space to process this. I am grateful for my healthy little girl. I am grateful for my dad's coworkers who showed us God's love over 25 years ago. 

May you be blessed this Christmas with a little magic and a heart that seeks justice. 

I Can't Just Cry Anymore

On December 14, 2012, it was my nephew's birthday. I was done with the Fall semester and L and I were out running some Christmas errands. I was happy almost giddy, buying gifts, the semester's pressure behind me. Between stops I heard a blip on the radio about Newtown. We went into Barnes and Noble and as L played at a toy on display I stood behind her and looked up what happened on my phone. Standing there in public I began to cry, I started to feel unsafe. I drove us home and waited for L to go to bed and then watched the news. I won 't expose her to it, not yet, I want to teach her all the beautiful things of the world first, so when she sees the overwhelming pain of the world she can know that there is hope and beauty to be found in the same world.  I cried for days and then I slowly resumed my normal life.

Before that I watched super storm Sandy rip up my home town from 700 miles away and after I watch the horror of the Boston marathon bombing. I watch and I cry and I write and I pray. Then Saturday I heard the verdict, well read it on Facebook. I hadn't followed the Trayvon Martin case closely. I remembered the outrage I felt when Trayvon was killed. I remember watching it all unfold and I remember the lump in my throat that comes every time injustice rears its miserable, life sucking, ugly ass head. It was the same lump that came late Saturday night and again Sunday morning.

This week I have the great privilege of being at the Samuel Proctor Institute at the Children's Defence Fund's Haley Farm. Let me tell you there is no better place to be the days after such a heart breaking verdict. This week I am sharing life not only with amazing classmates and a favorite seminary professor, I am learning from Ottis Moss Jr, Jim Lawson, Marian Wright Edelman. These are the people that Martin Luther King Jr was changing the world with. MLK has always been inspiring and essentially I somehow have found myself hanging out with his friends the day after the law, the courts failed a black boy who was shot dead. Let us take comfort in the humanness of the law and knowing that the human word will never be the last word.

I am not here by accident, God brought me here. I don't say that lightly, God brought me here. God brought me here so I could be reminded I have a loud and passionate voice, that needs to do more than just cry itself to sleep after each tragedy, each injustice, each natural disaster. God created me with a deep love of children. God created me with a heart for equality, especially in education and opportunities for education. God allowed me to have empathy for the poor, the suffering. God has called me to ministry, likely with children. God gave me a thirst for justice. God let all my little worlds collide right here in TN.

As I sat listening today, I had enough, I had enough of just crying, weeping, wailing, for our children.  I can not longer respond only with tears and prayers. It's time to take action. It's time to raise this voice that God gave me. So what am I going to do? I have no idea, I just know that the God who created me, the God who brought me here, is moving in me and I am taking notice. I am noticing the radical gospel is the only gospel that speaks to me.

Today I am grateful for these tender days, for finding my voice, for the law not being the end all be all.