I am a white, Southern, Christian, woman who was raised in the great State of Alabama. Because of this, people already assume that I am at least a little racist, so I try to be conscientious of how I act and what I say so that it cannot be misconstrued as anything prejudiced. I have also raised my kids not to see skin color any differently than they would see hair color or eye color.
When William (my oldest) had his first real friendship with a person of color he was almost 3. He was telling me about 2 friends in his preschool class, both named Anthony. I said "Does it confuse you that they have the same name?" And he thought about it and said "No, because one of the Anthonys is colored like your coffee and the other one is like your Coke." I was glad that he had not even known that they were Hispanic and Black, but I decided that maybe I should teach him those terms in the future to avoid confusion.
Bella, my second oldest, is my drama queen. She is all about glitz, glamour, and fashion. She is my husband (who is Puerto Rican) made over in female form -- olive complexion, big brown eyes, the whole thing. The first time she saw a little Black girl with all of the beautiful braids, she wanted the same -- I think that she was about 3, maybe a little closer to 4. I tried to explain that her hair wouldn't do that, and her over-intelligent response was "Yes it will. You said that all people are the same and I want my hair like that." I had to think about this. She was right, of course. I HAD told them that all people were the same. So how do I explain that we are all different but the same to a kid? I told her that it doesn't mean that all of us are just alike -- some are tall and some are short, some have brown hair and some are blondes, etc, and HER hair, which was like MY hair, just wouldn't do that.
Now Jackson, the 2 year old, SEES the differences in color, but it doesn't bother him. (I am intentionally skipping Lorelei for a reason for now). William's best friend is a very sweet Black kid from around the corner named Ben. Whenever Jackson sees other Black people from a distance, he AUTOMATICALLY thinks that they are Ben. Today while we were waiting in the carpool line, he saw 2 black teenage girls walking across the school lawn and he starts pointing towards them and saying "Mama! I see girl-Bens!" Although there is nothing wrong with that, in fact it is kind of cute, it made me realize that had the car windows been down and they had heard him, (or worse, MIS-heard him), it could prove embarrassing. I made a mental note to discuss with my husband how to best discuss racial difference with our kids. But leave it to Lorelei to not wait for me to have a plan.
William went home from school with Ben today, and I took the other 3 with me to do a little shopping -- the Daddy/Daughter Dance is next weekend and the girls needed jewlery, tights, etc, and Jackson needed shoes. I told them that if they behaved, we could go eat at IHOP (knowing full well that regardless of their behavior we were eating out somewhere because I had not prepared anything for dinner). So, they were good and we went to IHOP and were seated by a nice looking young Black man who started to take our order by asking what we'd like to drink. I ordered Coke and coffee (my usual) and the kids wanted milk. Then Lorelei said that she wanted chocolate milk and then they all wanted chocolate milk. So Lorelei looks at our waiter, who is patiently waiting for her to finish talking, and says "We LOVE chocolate milk! Our Grandma makes us chocolate milk and it is sooooo chocolatey! JUST LIKE YOU!" The poor guy who had been listening and nodding along as she went on and on looked like someone had just smacked him. He looked at me and all I could say was "I'm so sorry. She really doesn't mean anything by it. She's 4 and has no filter." Meanwhile, Lorelei is still talking. She asks him "Do you taste like chocolate? I think I want to lick you." I want to crawl under the table. Bella decides to take over "Lorelei! Don't be rude! He's not chocolate, he's just Black, and you cannot lick him." I am contemplating just excusing ourselves from the table and leaving. Jackson looks up at the waiter and blurts out "I love you!! Chocolate is my favorite!! Can I lick you too??!" Crap. So I am now waiting for management to ask us to leave and I can feel the heat radiating from my face and I know that I am beet red with embarassment so I just put my head in my hands and start to apologize again. But before I can even say a word, our great waiter starts laughing. I look up and I find that he is laughing at ME! He says, "I've never had a customer say that they love me. Or ask if they could lick me. Kids are so honest." I smiled, still embarrased, and answered "Yeah. Honest and loud. That is my kids."
This is me...
I'm having a mom moment....
Friday, January 28, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
Don't Ever Agree To Be The Room Mom. EVER.
So I got called lazy by a total stranger today and it took everything I had NOT to totally go off on her Martha Stewart little butt. Maybe I should fill in the whole story:
Back in October, I got a rather frantic call from the "Head Room Mom" at my kid's school. She needed someone to step up and be the room mom for my son's 3rd grade class. She had already called me the month before and I had politely refused -- I had offered to help in any way that I could but I have 4 kids, and RUNNING a class party is hard enough without having to keep up with the 2 and 4 year old that I would have in tow at all times. This time, after about a 2 hour conversation, she had convinced me that it was "super-easy" and that "everything is practically done for you" since there are only 2 parties allowed in the class each year, so I reluctantly accepted and waited for my folder to arrive with all of the information. I never got a folder.
I had kind of forgotten about it, what with trying to raise 4 kids and having a husband who is working 2nd shift...oh, and having my gall bladder removed in the beginning of December, which left me throwing up for 6 days after surgery. So after my surgery when I finally start feeling somewhat human again, I remember that "Crap, I have to plan the 'Holiday Party' for William's class" and realize that I never got the stupid folder with all of the "super-easy" info and stuff that is "already done for me" in it. Now, in hind-sight, I probably should have called the school and found out who the "Head Room Mom" was again (since I couldn't even remember her name), and tried to get her phone number so that I could have called her and asked her whatever happened to the magic folder. But I didn't. I thought "Hey, I have a degree in English, its a letter saying 'There's a party. Send Chips,' so how hard can it be?" So I took a whole five or six minutes to whip out a letter that said basically that and to ask the parents to send in a wrapped ornament to do an ornament exchange ($5 limit). I hopped in the car and took it to the school office and left it to be copied and given to the teacher to pass out on a Tuesday afternoon before the party 9 days later on the following Thursday. The office staff said that they would run the copies as soon as it was approved and that they would call me if there was a problem. I never got a call. But Friday night, I got an email from that Head Room Mom letting me know that the letter had not gone out. The office staff had given it to the Assistant Principle, who had given it to the Principle, who had contacted the PTA President, who had called the Head Room Mom -- this process apparently took 3 days. The problem was that it wasn't the "pre-approved" letter that was supposed to come in the fabled "So-Easy-A-Caveman-Can-Do-It Room Mom Folder" that I never got. I was not allowed to tell the parents to send a $5 ornament -- I was supposed to say "new or gently used" in case some of the parents didn't have the money for such things. I thought that was ridiculous since I sure wasn't asking for "new or gently" used paper plates, napkins, chips or drinks. I was pissed. So by the time I found out about it, it was too late to send any letter out, and I got to do the entire party by myself. We had snacks, candy, and a goodie bag to take home and the entire party cost me over $100. We did not have a craft or a game. I was the only parent who showed up even though the teacher had sent home a note the day before the party inviting everyone to attend. The kids had a great time and there was almost no left over food. I thought that I pretty much rocked.
Well, the only other party allowed during the school year is Valentine's Day. (First of all, I find this 2 party rule completely asinine. There should be AT LEAST 5 parties a year for elementary school -- Halloween, Christmas, Valentine's Day, Easter, and End of Year.) So it is time to once again to plan for the party. After talking it over with William's teacher, we decided to bend the rules a little and ask a few parents to contribute money to buy pizza. I finally got the Golden Folder and was shocked by how little it actually contained. There are 21 kids in my son's class and only 6 parents had provided emails or phone numbers and I was one of those. So I sent an email to the 5 remaining parents asking them to send in $5 each as their contribution to the party to cover the cost of the pizzas. One email came back as undeliverable, and the same person's phone number was no longer valid. I got 2 responses of "What a great idea" and then....then I got the phone call from Mrs. Polly Perfect.
She introduced herself as "so-and-so's Mom" and then proceeded to go on a self-praising tangent about how she was the room mom for her youngest daughter's class and what a great job she had done and how she would be happy to share some of her tips and advice with me. Now, those of you who know me, know that I was mildly amused by this at this point, and I tried to indulge her fantasy that things are always sunshine and rainbows where our kids are concerned for just a little while longer. She then asked me what kind of game and craft I was planning for the Valentine's Day party and there was an audible gasp when I told her that we weren't planning on having one. I explained that the teacher and I had discussed it and that we had decided that it would be easier to just get the pizzas, drinks, chips and maybe some cupcakes and let the kids socialize for the 45 minutes allotted for the party. Her response? Well she said "I just don't think that it is fair to the kids to deprive them of these fun activities when they only get 2 parties a year just because you are too lazy to organize them. I was really pretty upset that there was no craft for the party at Christmas. I was sure that so-and-so would be bringing home an ornament or something that they had made in class. I had my younger child's class make ornaments as part of their party and they absolutely loved it and had a great time." Through gritted teeth, I explained what had happened with the Holiday party -- that I had done the entire thing by myself with 2 kids in tow 2 1/2 weeks after surgery and that it cost me over $100 to do so. Her response to that was that it could have been done cheaper -- she had done her younger child's party all by herself "as a gift to the parents in the class" and only spent about $60 WITH a craft and a game. With white knuckles in a death grip on the phone to control my annoyance at Little Miss Perfect, I told her that the teacher doesn't want a game. She doesn't want a craft. She wants pizza and snacks. Period. She went on to pontificate about how our children deserve more from us than 45 minutes of eating junk food and that they should be allowed to make memories during these parties. I was obviously dealing with Rainbow Brite. Her kids must be perfect angels who burp sunshine and poop Skittles. I mean, I don't know about any of you, but I really do not remember ONE holiday party that I had in elementary school. I do not remember the food, or what we did, or how many games and crafts we had -- nothing. I remember that we had parties and they were fun and relaxed and no one was trying to make sure that we finished our craft before we got to eat, or finished eating so that we could play some stupid game.
I finally had to cut into this woman's delusion by telling her that I had to respect what the teacher wanted and that was food and nothing else. I thanked her for her time and (ahem) "advice" and asked again if she would be willing to send in the $5 for the pizza. She said that she would but that she wanted to make sure that the kids had a "good" goodie-bag to take home from the party this time and so she would be doing those as well. Ignoring the obvious dig at the goodie-bags I had provided for the Christmas party, I told her that would be wonderful, relieved that I could check that off of my list. She told me that she would love to meet me in person and would do her best to finish up her younger child's party so that she could get to the classroom and meet me on Valentine's Day. She will surely come floating in on a cloud of pixie dust with forest animals in her wake, birds singing around her head, flowers will litter her path and the room will get brighter by her mere presence. I. Can't. Wait.
Back in October, I got a rather frantic call from the "Head Room Mom" at my kid's school. She needed someone to step up and be the room mom for my son's 3rd grade class. She had already called me the month before and I had politely refused -- I had offered to help in any way that I could but I have 4 kids, and RUNNING a class party is hard enough without having to keep up with the 2 and 4 year old that I would have in tow at all times. This time, after about a 2 hour conversation, she had convinced me that it was "super-easy" and that "everything is practically done for you" since there are only 2 parties allowed in the class each year, so I reluctantly accepted and waited for my folder to arrive with all of the information. I never got a folder.
I had kind of forgotten about it, what with trying to raise 4 kids and having a husband who is working 2nd shift...oh, and having my gall bladder removed in the beginning of December, which left me throwing up for 6 days after surgery. So after my surgery when I finally start feeling somewhat human again, I remember that "Crap, I have to plan the 'Holiday Party' for William's class" and realize that I never got the stupid folder with all of the "super-easy" info and stuff that is "already done for me" in it. Now, in hind-sight, I probably should have called the school and found out who the "Head Room Mom" was again (since I couldn't even remember her name), and tried to get her phone number so that I could have called her and asked her whatever happened to the magic folder. But I didn't. I thought "Hey, I have a degree in English, its a letter saying 'There's a party. Send Chips,' so how hard can it be?" So I took a whole five or six minutes to whip out a letter that said basically that and to ask the parents to send in a wrapped ornament to do an ornament exchange ($5 limit). I hopped in the car and took it to the school office and left it to be copied and given to the teacher to pass out on a Tuesday afternoon before the party 9 days later on the following Thursday. The office staff said that they would run the copies as soon as it was approved and that they would call me if there was a problem. I never got a call. But Friday night, I got an email from that Head Room Mom letting me know that the letter had not gone out. The office staff had given it to the Assistant Principle, who had given it to the Principle, who had contacted the PTA President, who had called the Head Room Mom -- this process apparently took 3 days. The problem was that it wasn't the "pre-approved" letter that was supposed to come in the fabled "So-Easy-A-Caveman-Can-Do-It Room Mom Folder" that I never got. I was not allowed to tell the parents to send a $5 ornament -- I was supposed to say "new or gently used" in case some of the parents didn't have the money for such things. I thought that was ridiculous since I sure wasn't asking for "new or gently" used paper plates, napkins, chips or drinks. I was pissed. So by the time I found out about it, it was too late to send any letter out, and I got to do the entire party by myself. We had snacks, candy, and a goodie bag to take home and the entire party cost me over $100. We did not have a craft or a game. I was the only parent who showed up even though the teacher had sent home a note the day before the party inviting everyone to attend. The kids had a great time and there was almost no left over food. I thought that I pretty much rocked.
Well, the only other party allowed during the school year is Valentine's Day. (First of all, I find this 2 party rule completely asinine. There should be AT LEAST 5 parties a year for elementary school -- Halloween, Christmas, Valentine's Day, Easter, and End of Year.) So it is time to once again to plan for the party. After talking it over with William's teacher, we decided to bend the rules a little and ask a few parents to contribute money to buy pizza. I finally got the Golden Folder and was shocked by how little it actually contained. There are 21 kids in my son's class and only 6 parents had provided emails or phone numbers and I was one of those. So I sent an email to the 5 remaining parents asking them to send in $5 each as their contribution to the party to cover the cost of the pizzas. One email came back as undeliverable, and the same person's phone number was no longer valid. I got 2 responses of "What a great idea" and then....then I got the phone call from Mrs. Polly Perfect.
She introduced herself as "so-and-so's Mom" and then proceeded to go on a self-praising tangent about how she was the room mom for her youngest daughter's class and what a great job she had done and how she would be happy to share some of her tips and advice with me. Now, those of you who know me, know that I was mildly amused by this at this point, and I tried to indulge her fantasy that things are always sunshine and rainbows where our kids are concerned for just a little while longer. She then asked me what kind of game and craft I was planning for the Valentine's Day party and there was an audible gasp when I told her that we weren't planning on having one. I explained that the teacher and I had discussed it and that we had decided that it would be easier to just get the pizzas, drinks, chips and maybe some cupcakes and let the kids socialize for the 45 minutes allotted for the party. Her response? Well she said "I just don't think that it is fair to the kids to deprive them of these fun activities when they only get 2 parties a year just because you are too lazy to organize them. I was really pretty upset that there was no craft for the party at Christmas. I was sure that so-and-so would be bringing home an ornament or something that they had made in class. I had my younger child's class make ornaments as part of their party and they absolutely loved it and had a great time." Through gritted teeth, I explained what had happened with the Holiday party -- that I had done the entire thing by myself with 2 kids in tow 2 1/2 weeks after surgery and that it cost me over $100 to do so. Her response to that was that it could have been done cheaper -- she had done her younger child's party all by herself "as a gift to the parents in the class" and only spent about $60 WITH a craft and a game. With white knuckles in a death grip on the phone to control my annoyance at Little Miss Perfect, I told her that the teacher doesn't want a game. She doesn't want a craft. She wants pizza and snacks. Period. She went on to pontificate about how our children deserve more from us than 45 minutes of eating junk food and that they should be allowed to make memories during these parties. I was obviously dealing with Rainbow Brite. Her kids must be perfect angels who burp sunshine and poop Skittles. I mean, I don't know about any of you, but I really do not remember ONE holiday party that I had in elementary school. I do not remember the food, or what we did, or how many games and crafts we had -- nothing. I remember that we had parties and they were fun and relaxed and no one was trying to make sure that we finished our craft before we got to eat, or finished eating so that we could play some stupid game.
I finally had to cut into this woman's delusion by telling her that I had to respect what the teacher wanted and that was food and nothing else. I thanked her for her time and (ahem) "advice" and asked again if she would be willing to send in the $5 for the pizza. She said that she would but that she wanted to make sure that the kids had a "good" goodie-bag to take home from the party this time and so she would be doing those as well. Ignoring the obvious dig at the goodie-bags I had provided for the Christmas party, I told her that would be wonderful, relieved that I could check that off of my list. She told me that she would love to meet me in person and would do her best to finish up her younger child's party so that she could get to the classroom and meet me on Valentine's Day. She will surely come floating in on a cloud of pixie dust with forest animals in her wake, birds singing around her head, flowers will litter her path and the room will get brighter by her mere presence. I. Can't. Wait.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Thanksgiving 2010
It’s the day before Thanksgiving and its 80 degrees
I’m wearing a T-shirt, flip-flops, and capris
I’ve broken a dish, I’ve burned my hand
But the dinner is coming along just as planned
My kitchen is full of the scents of Thanksgiving
My house could be featured in Southern Living
The Turkey is buttered and seasoned and cooling
The thought of it all sets my mouth to drooling
Friends and family will soon come to the table
To eat and to eat ‘til they’re no longer able
When the table is cleared and the dishes are done
And the kids are outside to play, scream, and run
We’ll turn our attention to the Black Friday Ads
Making out lists for our kids, moms, and dads
Some will lie back and soon they’ll be snoozing
While others will talk about whose team will be losing
And when the guests head out to go back to their houses
And we’re left all alone with our kids and our spouses
We’ll clean up the kids and get them into their beds
With thoughts about Christmas now in our heads
Thanksgiving’s a time that I forever will treasure
My blessings have been too many to measure
I’ve got 4 great kids and a husband I love
Great family and friends who were sent from above
Warm clothes and a home which is much more than most
Of my blessings on Earth, I truly can boast
I’m thankful for family, for friends and much more
And my God has more treasures for me in store
The Lord has provided His mercy and grace
And no earthly blessings could dare take His place
So tomorrow when gathered with family and friends
While reflecting on all of your life’s dividends
Remember to thank the Lord for his love
And for all of the gifts on this Earth and above
HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!!!
I’m wearing a T-shirt, flip-flops, and capris
I’ve broken a dish, I’ve burned my hand
But the dinner is coming along just as planned
My kitchen is full of the scents of Thanksgiving
My house could be featured in Southern Living
The Turkey is buttered and seasoned and cooling
The thought of it all sets my mouth to drooling
Friends and family will soon come to the table
To eat and to eat ‘til they’re no longer able
When the table is cleared and the dishes are done
And the kids are outside to play, scream, and run
We’ll turn our attention to the Black Friday Ads
Making out lists for our kids, moms, and dads
Some will lie back and soon they’ll be snoozing
While others will talk about whose team will be losing
And when the guests head out to go back to their houses
And we’re left all alone with our kids and our spouses
We’ll clean up the kids and get them into their beds
With thoughts about Christmas now in our heads
Thanksgiving’s a time that I forever will treasure
My blessings have been too many to measure
I’ve got 4 great kids and a husband I love
Great family and friends who were sent from above
Warm clothes and a home which is much more than most
Of my blessings on Earth, I truly can boast
I’m thankful for family, for friends and much more
And my God has more treasures for me in store
The Lord has provided His mercy and grace
And no earthly blessings could dare take His place
So tomorrow when gathered with family and friends
While reflecting on all of your life’s dividends
Remember to thank the Lord for his love
And for all of the gifts on this Earth and above
HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!!!
Monday, November 22, 2010
30 Days of Thankful
Alot of my friends have been doing this wonderful thing on Facebook where they post what they are thankful for for 30 days straight. I wanted to do it too, but I am just now getting around to it, and I am horrible about consistency so here are my 30 Days of Thankful all in one list:
1) I am thankful that I have a God who is merciful and forgiving and loves me even though I fall short daily.
2) I am thankful for my husband who works a job he dislikes, on crazy shifts, including many weekends, so that I can stay home with our kids.
3) I am thankful for my 4 beautiful, smart, hilarious kids who drive me to the brink of insanity and keep me grounded all the time.
4) I am thankful for loving parents who try to help and support me anyway that they can, even when it is to tell me I am wrong.
5) I am thankful for truly good friends -- the ones I see nearly everyday, the ones I see a few times a year, and even the ones that I never see anymore.
6) I am thankful for all of the teachers who have impacted my life. There are the traditional teachers, and there are the teachers who impacted me just by being in my life.
7) I am thankful for a roof over my head, clothes in my closet, food in my fridge, and a car to get around in.
8) I am thankful for the soldiers -- both past and present -- who defend my rights to have all of the above and to do with it whatever I want.
9) I am thankful for my country. Despite all of the flaws in our government and the more obvious flaws in our politicians, it is still the BEST country in the world.
10) I am thankful for family -- my extended family is absolutely wonderful (and a little crazy).
11) I am thankful for Facebook -- I have reconnected with so many people from my past and it has been a great joy to hear what has happened in their lives over the past 10, 20 or in rare cases 30 years!
12) I am thankful for coffee -- to God for creating it, to the man who discovered it, to the genius who decided to roast it and pour hot water over it...
13) I am thankful for my digital camera. I cannot literally freeze time and keep my kids from growing up, but with it I am able to hold onto those moments.
14) I am thankful for TV -- there are days that I just need to escape into an alternate universe for an hour or so and there are many choices on TV (if I can locate my remote).
13) I am thankful for my DVR -- there is rarely a time in my day that I can sit down and watch TV uninterrupted for even 10 minutes, so being able to record, rewind, fast-forward through commercials, etc. is a true blessing.
14) I am thankful that I can cook. I have eaten at enough people's houses to know that this is actually not as common as one might think.
15) I am thankful for my health and the health of my family. I pray daily for those who do not have this blessing.
16) I am thankful for electricity. I am not the pioneer type.
17) I am thankful for my cell phone and I honestly do not know how I ever lived without one.
18) I am thankful for Nick Jr. -- the only kids network that airs shows buffered by songs, dances, etc. and NOT by commercials for the latest Lelly Kelly Shoe ad or Bendaroos or any of the myriad other craptastic things that I will not buy for my kids.
19) I am thankful for disposable diapers. I know that it isn't very environmentally conscious of me, but I don't care (refer to number 16).
20) I am thankful for sippy cups that actually don't leak.
21) I am thankful for easily accessible carpet cleaners for sippy cups that DO leak.
22) I am thankful for the Library. I devour books, and if I had to pay anywhere from $7 to $35 for all of the books that I read I would be even more broke than I am now.
23) I am thankful for grocery stores. If I had to make, grow, hunt, or otherwise obtain the food that my family of 6 consumes in a single week, we'd probably have all died of starvation years ago.
24) I am thankful for consignment stores. Not because they buy my "gently used items at a fair price" (because they don't -- they cheat me), but because I can buy their gently used items at a fair price.
25) I am thankful for college football. It allows an outlet for pent up aggression for 4 months out of the year. (War Eagle)
26) I am thankful for soap, shampoo, and deodorant. I know that this one might seem a little weird, but think about what we would endure without them.
27) I am thankful for seat belts and car seats and airbags and the fact that I have not had an accident where I had to rely on them to save me or my family.
28) I am thankful for nature. I may not like to be immersed in it, but I do admire it from a distance...
29) I am thankful for heat and air conditioning -- I am very fickle when it comes to body temperature and I often have the heat on in the morning and the air on by noon.
30) I am thankful for everything and everyone in my life. I tried to imagine as I went through my day "How hard would this be if I didn't have 'X' to do it with?" and I realized that I am one very blessed individual.
And there is my list. All 30 days of Thankfulness. I may have done this all at once, but I really do thank God for everyone of these things almost daily. If I had done it daily, I am certain that it probably would have been more cynical and I am positive that it would have been more focused on what was going on that day -- something about the kids, of my husband, or my dog. But this is a better reflection of the things I am most thankful for. Take a moment (or two) to reflect on what you are most thankful for, and have a wonderful and blessed Thanksgiving!
1) I am thankful that I have a God who is merciful and forgiving and loves me even though I fall short daily.
2) I am thankful for my husband who works a job he dislikes, on crazy shifts, including many weekends, so that I can stay home with our kids.
3) I am thankful for my 4 beautiful, smart, hilarious kids who drive me to the brink of insanity and keep me grounded all the time.
4) I am thankful for loving parents who try to help and support me anyway that they can, even when it is to tell me I am wrong.
5) I am thankful for truly good friends -- the ones I see nearly everyday, the ones I see a few times a year, and even the ones that I never see anymore.
6) I am thankful for all of the teachers who have impacted my life. There are the traditional teachers, and there are the teachers who impacted me just by being in my life.
7) I am thankful for a roof over my head, clothes in my closet, food in my fridge, and a car to get around in.
8) I am thankful for the soldiers -- both past and present -- who defend my rights to have all of the above and to do with it whatever I want.
9) I am thankful for my country. Despite all of the flaws in our government and the more obvious flaws in our politicians, it is still the BEST country in the world.
10) I am thankful for family -- my extended family is absolutely wonderful (and a little crazy).
11) I am thankful for Facebook -- I have reconnected with so many people from my past and it has been a great joy to hear what has happened in their lives over the past 10, 20 or in rare cases 30 years!
12) I am thankful for coffee -- to God for creating it, to the man who discovered it, to the genius who decided to roast it and pour hot water over it...
13) I am thankful for my digital camera. I cannot literally freeze time and keep my kids from growing up, but with it I am able to hold onto those moments.
14) I am thankful for TV -- there are days that I just need to escape into an alternate universe for an hour or so and there are many choices on TV (if I can locate my remote).
13) I am thankful for my DVR -- there is rarely a time in my day that I can sit down and watch TV uninterrupted for even 10 minutes, so being able to record, rewind, fast-forward through commercials, etc. is a true blessing.
14) I am thankful that I can cook. I have eaten at enough people's houses to know that this is actually not as common as one might think.
15) I am thankful for my health and the health of my family. I pray daily for those who do not have this blessing.
16) I am thankful for electricity. I am not the pioneer type.
17) I am thankful for my cell phone and I honestly do not know how I ever lived without one.
18) I am thankful for Nick Jr. -- the only kids network that airs shows buffered by songs, dances, etc. and NOT by commercials for the latest Lelly Kelly Shoe ad or Bendaroos or any of the myriad other craptastic things that I will not buy for my kids.
19) I am thankful for disposable diapers. I know that it isn't very environmentally conscious of me, but I don't care (refer to number 16).
20) I am thankful for sippy cups that actually don't leak.
21) I am thankful for easily accessible carpet cleaners for sippy cups that DO leak.
22) I am thankful for the Library. I devour books, and if I had to pay anywhere from $7 to $35 for all of the books that I read I would be even more broke than I am now.
23) I am thankful for grocery stores. If I had to make, grow, hunt, or otherwise obtain the food that my family of 6 consumes in a single week, we'd probably have all died of starvation years ago.
24) I am thankful for consignment stores. Not because they buy my "gently used items at a fair price" (because they don't -- they cheat me), but because I can buy their gently used items at a fair price.
25) I am thankful for college football. It allows an outlet for pent up aggression for 4 months out of the year. (War Eagle)
26) I am thankful for soap, shampoo, and deodorant. I know that this one might seem a little weird, but think about what we would endure without them.
27) I am thankful for seat belts and car seats and airbags and the fact that I have not had an accident where I had to rely on them to save me or my family.
28) I am thankful for nature. I may not like to be immersed in it, but I do admire it from a distance...
29) I am thankful for heat and air conditioning -- I am very fickle when it comes to body temperature and I often have the heat on in the morning and the air on by noon.
30) I am thankful for everything and everyone in my life. I tried to imagine as I went through my day "How hard would this be if I didn't have 'X' to do it with?" and I realized that I am one very blessed individual.
And there is my list. All 30 days of Thankfulness. I may have done this all at once, but I really do thank God for everyone of these things almost daily. If I had done it daily, I am certain that it probably would have been more cynical and I am positive that it would have been more focused on what was going on that day -- something about the kids, of my husband, or my dog. But this is a better reflection of the things I am most thankful for. Take a moment (or two) to reflect on what you are most thankful for, and have a wonderful and blessed Thanksgiving!
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Let Us Stand and Sing....
One Sunday at church, I had one of those parenting moments. This was before Jackson and before we moved here to Texas. It was Gary’s week to help serve communion, so I picked the kids up from their classes and went to sit down. Lorelei had entered her "noisy" stage -- she would sing and talk all the time as she had just recently discovered that she could, so I opted for the "cry-room". If you are not familiar with this concept, it is a glass fronted room in the back of the auditorium where you are meant to “train” your children how to behave in church.
The problems started when the kids realized that Daddy was not going to be sitting with us until the sermon started and got worse when they realized that they weren't going to be sitting in "our pew”. Then they thought that since we were in the cry-room, they could run around and make noise. Lorelei was getting increasingly hungry and therefore fussy. So picture me holding and trying to calm and pacify Lorelei, snapping my fingers at the other two to sit down and behave while they are running in different directions all over the room. Finally, communion is over and the sermon is about to start, so here comes Daddy. As soon as he walks in, I leave to go feed Lorelei in the nursery (I DO have a little bit of modesty left, I was not going to breastfeed IN church.) I was gone maybe 15-20 minutes. I missed the first half of the sermon. When I get back with Lorelei, my husband immediately says "They want you to take them to the bathroom." So I pass off Lorelei to him and head out with the other two. As soon as we get out of the cry room they start running -- one to the left and one to the right. I finally wrangle them into the bathroom, where they fight over the stall -- now, there are probably about 12 stalls in this bathroom, but my kids want to use the exact same one. I tried to be the good mother and explain that all of the toilets were the same and that it didn't matter which one they used but we finally went with Isabella gets to go first because she is younger and might pee on herself. Potty issues solved, we proceeded to the sink to wash our hands -- 4 sinks, 1 argument over who gets to go first. Since Isabella got to pee first, William got to wash up first. Then they wanted lotion, since the good ladies of my congregation had kindly supplied the lotion, I gave them each a squirt. While I was washing MY hands, I turn around to see Isabella using her lotion to paint the full-length mirror on the door. I take some towels to try to clean it up, but only end up making it worse. So now we are finally ready to go back to sit down. Once again, I open the bathroom door and they are off like a shot across the lobby; giggling and squealing all of the way. Trying to maintain at least the "illusion" of control, I rush to catch them and steer them into the cry-room and sit down -- just in time to hear the last two words of the sermon and stand for the closing song.
As funny as that may all be, the ironic part came when we got into the car and my husband told me that the sermon was entitled "Discipline in The Christian Home." Wow.
The problems started when the kids realized that Daddy was not going to be sitting with us until the sermon started and got worse when they realized that they weren't going to be sitting in "our pew”. Then they thought that since we were in the cry-room, they could run around and make noise. Lorelei was getting increasingly hungry and therefore fussy. So picture me holding and trying to calm and pacify Lorelei, snapping my fingers at the other two to sit down and behave while they are running in different directions all over the room. Finally, communion is over and the sermon is about to start, so here comes Daddy. As soon as he walks in, I leave to go feed Lorelei in the nursery (I DO have a little bit of modesty left, I was not going to breastfeed IN church.) I was gone maybe 15-20 minutes. I missed the first half of the sermon. When I get back with Lorelei, my husband immediately says "They want you to take them to the bathroom." So I pass off Lorelei to him and head out with the other two. As soon as we get out of the cry room they start running -- one to the left and one to the right. I finally wrangle them into the bathroom, where they fight over the stall -- now, there are probably about 12 stalls in this bathroom, but my kids want to use the exact same one. I tried to be the good mother and explain that all of the toilets were the same and that it didn't matter which one they used but we finally went with Isabella gets to go first because she is younger and might pee on herself. Potty issues solved, we proceeded to the sink to wash our hands -- 4 sinks, 1 argument over who gets to go first. Since Isabella got to pee first, William got to wash up first. Then they wanted lotion, since the good ladies of my congregation had kindly supplied the lotion, I gave them each a squirt. While I was washing MY hands, I turn around to see Isabella using her lotion to paint the full-length mirror on the door. I take some towels to try to clean it up, but only end up making it worse. So now we are finally ready to go back to sit down. Once again, I open the bathroom door and they are off like a shot across the lobby; giggling and squealing all of the way. Trying to maintain at least the "illusion" of control, I rush to catch them and steer them into the cry-room and sit down -- just in time to hear the last two words of the sermon and stand for the closing song.
As funny as that may all be, the ironic part came when we got into the car and my husband told me that the sermon was entitled "Discipline in The Christian Home." Wow.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Remembering Halloween the Way it WAS
**Disclaimer: I was feeling pretty nostalgic about Halloween this evening and I sat down and just started typing. I rarely do that. Usually there is a whole blogpost in my head before I even pull up this site, but this one...this one is purely for me.
I remember alot of Halloweens growing up. Probably one of my first memories is when I got my 1st store bought costume. I think I was 3. We went to the Big B store on the corner of Sparkman and Jordan Lane and bought a Mickey Mouse costume. What I remember about it was this -- it was cheap. The mask was uncomfortable plastic that was so thin and stiff, you could probably cut yourself on it. The "costume" was also plastic and you stepped into it and it tied in the back like a hospital gown. I remember that the mask cracked before the night was over and that a couple of the ties broke when we put it on. Maybe that is why I didn't have another store bought costume until I was 14 and needed something impressive for a friend's Halloween party. One year I wore a purple sweat suit and painted my face purple -- I was The Purple People Eater. Another year I wanted to be a ghost, but mom wouldn't let me cut holes in a sheet, so I was some kind of incredibly politically incorrect version of...well, I don't know what I was. I wore a shirt that my grandparents had brought me from the Caribbean, holey jeans, a gardening hat of my mothers, and I carried a coffee can with beans in it like some kind of drum/maracca hybrid. It was horrible -- but I walked around the neighborhood like a panhandling migrant worker asking everyone for candy. One of the most memorable costumes I ever made was when I was about 12. I was a robot. I painted a huge Whirlpool Dryer box with silver paint, as well as a smaller square box that I affixed to the top for the head. I raided my dad's garage and found all sorts of weird looking bulbs, wires, etc to form a face, cut the sleeves off of an old shirt, attached gloves at the ends, stuffed them with newspaper and duct taped them to the sides for arms. The most ingenious thing I did though was to push dozens of Lite Brite pegs through the front of the box, so that when I lit my flashlight on the inside of the box and swung it back and forth, the costume came alive. I did not go trick-or-treating that year -- I went to the Halloween party at our church and won the costume contest. I have been thinking alot about my childhood and how much holidays like Halloween have changed since we were kids. The idea of having "decorations" for Halloween beyond a Jack-O-Lantern or two was ludicrous for our family and our neighborhood. No one had Halloween lights, or stretched fake spiderwebs over their bushes. Occasionally, we might come to a house that had a blacklight in their porch light, or a scarcrow on the porch, and I think that there was one house that had fake ghosts hanging in their trees one year. But for the most part, a grinning Jack-O-Lantern was it (not the elaborate pumpkin sculptures that you see today, but just triangle eyes and nose and a jagged grin). The Jack-O-Lantern went out the night of or the night before Halloween and went into the trash the next day (unless your mom was like mine and made it into pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread, or pumpkin muffins).
We have become so commercialized as a society that a simple holiday that used to be comprised of a $5 pumpkin and a homemade costume has become one of $50 kids costumes, $200 inflatable spiders, and month-long celebrations. People rarely have ONE Jack-O-Lantern, but instead they have several -- many of them fake and plugged into the wall. I love Haloween. Fall is one of my most favorite times of the year, and Halloween is consumate "Fall" with pumpkins and apples and red and gold leaves. The crisp Fall air that is cool and dry and the coming of Halloween go hand in hand, and you know that soon after will be Thanksgiving, with turkey, sweet potatoes, family and football, followed closely by the holiday of holidays -- Christmas. I really miss the simplicity of the holidays the way we used to celebrate them -- Halloween was like a warm up of good holidays to come. The candy we collected was an appetizer to the rich foods of Thanksgiving and Christmas. Now, people decorate more for Halloween than they do for Christmas and many families never see each other -- even on Thanksgiving. (sigh)
I remember alot of Halloweens growing up. Probably one of my first memories is when I got my 1st store bought costume. I think I was 3. We went to the Big B store on the corner of Sparkman and Jordan Lane and bought a Mickey Mouse costume. What I remember about it was this -- it was cheap. The mask was uncomfortable plastic that was so thin and stiff, you could probably cut yourself on it. The "costume" was also plastic and you stepped into it and it tied in the back like a hospital gown. I remember that the mask cracked before the night was over and that a couple of the ties broke when we put it on. Maybe that is why I didn't have another store bought costume until I was 14 and needed something impressive for a friend's Halloween party. One year I wore a purple sweat suit and painted my face purple -- I was The Purple People Eater. Another year I wanted to be a ghost, but mom wouldn't let me cut holes in a sheet, so I was some kind of incredibly politically incorrect version of...well, I don't know what I was. I wore a shirt that my grandparents had brought me from the Caribbean, holey jeans, a gardening hat of my mothers, and I carried a coffee can with beans in it like some kind of drum/maracca hybrid. It was horrible -- but I walked around the neighborhood like a panhandling migrant worker asking everyone for candy. One of the most memorable costumes I ever made was when I was about 12. I was a robot. I painted a huge Whirlpool Dryer box with silver paint, as well as a smaller square box that I affixed to the top for the head. I raided my dad's garage and found all sorts of weird looking bulbs, wires, etc to form a face, cut the sleeves off of an old shirt, attached gloves at the ends, stuffed them with newspaper and duct taped them to the sides for arms. The most ingenious thing I did though was to push dozens of Lite Brite pegs through the front of the box, so that when I lit my flashlight on the inside of the box and swung it back and forth, the costume came alive. I did not go trick-or-treating that year -- I went to the Halloween party at our church and won the costume contest. I have been thinking alot about my childhood and how much holidays like Halloween have changed since we were kids. The idea of having "decorations" for Halloween beyond a Jack-O-Lantern or two was ludicrous for our family and our neighborhood. No one had Halloween lights, or stretched fake spiderwebs over their bushes. Occasionally, we might come to a house that had a blacklight in their porch light, or a scarcrow on the porch, and I think that there was one house that had fake ghosts hanging in their trees one year. But for the most part, a grinning Jack-O-Lantern was it (not the elaborate pumpkin sculptures that you see today, but just triangle eyes and nose and a jagged grin). The Jack-O-Lantern went out the night of or the night before Halloween and went into the trash the next day (unless your mom was like mine and made it into pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread, or pumpkin muffins).
We have become so commercialized as a society that a simple holiday that used to be comprised of a $5 pumpkin and a homemade costume has become one of $50 kids costumes, $200 inflatable spiders, and month-long celebrations. People rarely have ONE Jack-O-Lantern, but instead they have several -- many of them fake and plugged into the wall. I love Haloween. Fall is one of my most favorite times of the year, and Halloween is consumate "Fall" with pumpkins and apples and red and gold leaves. The crisp Fall air that is cool and dry and the coming of Halloween go hand in hand, and you know that soon after will be Thanksgiving, with turkey, sweet potatoes, family and football, followed closely by the holiday of holidays -- Christmas. I really miss the simplicity of the holidays the way we used to celebrate them -- Halloween was like a warm up of good holidays to come. The candy we collected was an appetizer to the rich foods of Thanksgiving and Christmas. Now, people decorate more for Halloween than they do for Christmas and many families never see each other -- even on Thanksgiving. (sigh)
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Growing up at Central
As a Southern woman raised in the Church of Christ, a lot of people believe that I am rigid -- believing that I am "saved" and you are not. I have heard all of my life that "those Church of Christ folks think that they are the only ones going to heaven" but I have never been taught that -- it has never even been implied to me. I even attended a Church of Christ private school from the age of 4 through the 8th grade and I never heard it there either. I was taught what it took to get to heaven based on the scriptures, no more, no less. Prejudices about other faiths was not part of the curriculum.
I grew up as a bonified member of the Central Church of Christ in Huntsville, AL and I loved it there. I do not know what others who grew up in the church went through, but for me, it was a blast. I loved the people and the building and the quaint downtown atmosphere. I was baptised there and on a cool, sunny, Saturday in October 1998, I was married there. A lot of this will not make sense to you unless you also attended church and some of this will not make sense unless you attended Central.
We were not an affluent church, full of monetary wealth. No, the riches of Central lay in the hearts of its members. As a young child, I worked hard in Sunday School to impress David and Marlene Thomason, Tim and Jimi Johnson, and even Marrietta Neiland (even though she never taught me personally, she was like the "Matriarch" of Central's youth). I opened my heart, sharpened my wit, and delved into more serious theological questions with Mike and Lora Porter, David and Laura Bell, and Dorthea Thompson as a teen. I learned to respect my elders -- Henry Bragg, Clyde Jones, Richard Brown, D.O. Matthews, J.D. Jones, and countless others. I wrote a letter to the elders when I was about 12 asking to be moved into the teen group early because I felt I was "much more mature" than the kids in my current class. I have no idea what it said, I would love to read it now for a laugh, but it worked, (much to my older sisters chagrin who had hoped to avoid me encroaching on her territory for at least 2 more years). I do not know if I impressed them with the words in the letter, or simply by the act of writing it.
I do not remember how old I was, maybe 8 or 9, but I still remember a lesson that J.D Jones taught about singing. What I remember about it is this: Singing is important. It is as important as praying and sitting still and listening to the sermon. He told us that it was important to not have instruments crowding out our voices as we lifted them in praise to God. And he told us to breathe which I thought was a little unnecessary until he explained further. We shouldn't all breathe at once so that a song sounded like this: "Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound (GASP) That saved a wretch like me! (GASP)..." It is an odd lesson to have stuck with me for so long, but it has, and I still try to practice the intermittent breathing when I sing at church now. We had no organ, no piano, no bass guitar or drums, but on a good Sunday with Ed Smith or Gerry Binford leading the singing you would never miss them. We sang, we clapped, we stomped our feet to the rhythms of "In My Father's House" and "Amen" until I thought that we would raise the roof or at least blow the doors from their hinges. We had an inner-city ministry, a class for divorcees, a jail ministry, a class for single parents, and 2 college ministries -- one at UAH and one at A & M. On any given Sunday, you could look out at the congregation and see people from as many as 4 or 5 races and 10 or 12 countries all side by side smiling right back at you. We had no qualms about race that so many churches in the South do even today.
The building was old (still is) but it was my playground every Sunday and Wednesday night. I would hold onto the brown metal poles that stretched to the ceiling as part of the staircase and swing from the 3rd or 4th or 5th step while holding onto the bottom pole in an impressive display of upper body strength that would make any stripper proud. I swung like a monkey on the silver painted poles that barricaded the parking lot across the street with my long brown hair dragging through the dirt. I begged every Wednesday night to walk to Gorin's for a waffle cone after church and was usually told no. I took great care in my hard soled Sunday shoes to pop as many seeds that fell from the huge tree out front. That tree is gone now. Its huge roots were buckling the concrete and its towering branches stretched high over the church roof. I wriggled in my seat as the invitation song, the announcements, and the prayer were concluded so that I could bound from the pew and run to the gym (we called it "The Family Life Center," but it was a gym). I would play while my mom and dad visited (or fellowshipped), and then I would whine when it was finally time to leave. I helped decorated that gym for the Harvest Banquet every year, and hosted several Parent Appreciation Dinners there as a teen. Some of my fondest memories are of the Halloween parties that they used to have there -- popcorn, Abbot & Costello, and costume contests. I won the year that I made a killer robot costume out of an old dryer box, silver spray paint, and light bright pegs.
For those of you not raised in the church, this might sound odd, but when you are raised in the Lord, surrounded on all sides by Him, even before you choose to be baptised, you have taken Him on like a reflection from those around you. I always knew that I would choose a life with Christ, and at a weekend teen retreat at Henry and Melba Bragg's Elk River cabin, I decided it was time. I was 14, and I was baptised by Clyde Jones at Central the Sunday morning after we got back with my parents and grandparents looking on. It was a good day. I didn't know it at the time, but the first real attack on my faith was just a few months away in the form of "The Boston Movement" where I saw our congregation that was bursting at the seams one Sunday go to a meager gathering of the faithful just a few weeks later. Although I have prayed alot about forgiving those responsible, I will never get over the effect that it had on me. It was my first experience with church "politics" (for lack of a more universally understood word), and in many ways it left me cynical. I am certain that the church had its problems before that, but I was oblivious to them. Sometimes, growing up sucks.
I know that I have romanticized the building, the grounds, and even the people in my head, but they are still the standard by which I judge other congregations. Central, in all its glory, warts and all, is "Home." There will never be another church that I can walk through and feel so at ease, so comfortable, like I belong. The people who taught my Sunday school classes, now teach my kids when we go home to visit. Ed and Gerry still raise the roof with the singing. Kids still swing on that banister. It is a constant comfort to me to know that it is there -- growing, flourishing, changing, yet always the same.
I grew up as a bonified member of the Central Church of Christ in Huntsville, AL and I loved it there. I do not know what others who grew up in the church went through, but for me, it was a blast. I loved the people and the building and the quaint downtown atmosphere. I was baptised there and on a cool, sunny, Saturday in October 1998, I was married there. A lot of this will not make sense to you unless you also attended church and some of this will not make sense unless you attended Central.
We were not an affluent church, full of monetary wealth. No, the riches of Central lay in the hearts of its members. As a young child, I worked hard in Sunday School to impress David and Marlene Thomason, Tim and Jimi Johnson, and even Marrietta Neiland (even though she never taught me personally, she was like the "Matriarch" of Central's youth). I opened my heart, sharpened my wit, and delved into more serious theological questions with Mike and Lora Porter, David and Laura Bell, and Dorthea Thompson as a teen. I learned to respect my elders -- Henry Bragg, Clyde Jones, Richard Brown, D.O. Matthews, J.D. Jones, and countless others. I wrote a letter to the elders when I was about 12 asking to be moved into the teen group early because I felt I was "much more mature" than the kids in my current class. I have no idea what it said, I would love to read it now for a laugh, but it worked, (much to my older sisters chagrin who had hoped to avoid me encroaching on her territory for at least 2 more years). I do not know if I impressed them with the words in the letter, or simply by the act of writing it.
I do not remember how old I was, maybe 8 or 9, but I still remember a lesson that J.D Jones taught about singing. What I remember about it is this: Singing is important. It is as important as praying and sitting still and listening to the sermon. He told us that it was important to not have instruments crowding out our voices as we lifted them in praise to God. And he told us to breathe which I thought was a little unnecessary until he explained further. We shouldn't all breathe at once so that a song sounded like this: "Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound (GASP) That saved a wretch like me! (GASP)..." It is an odd lesson to have stuck with me for so long, but it has, and I still try to practice the intermittent breathing when I sing at church now. We had no organ, no piano, no bass guitar or drums, but on a good Sunday with Ed Smith or Gerry Binford leading the singing you would never miss them. We sang, we clapped, we stomped our feet to the rhythms of "In My Father's House" and "Amen" until I thought that we would raise the roof or at least blow the doors from their hinges. We had an inner-city ministry, a class for divorcees, a jail ministry, a class for single parents, and 2 college ministries -- one at UAH and one at A & M. On any given Sunday, you could look out at the congregation and see people from as many as 4 or 5 races and 10 or 12 countries all side by side smiling right back at you. We had no qualms about race that so many churches in the South do even today.
The building was old (still is) but it was my playground every Sunday and Wednesday night. I would hold onto the brown metal poles that stretched to the ceiling as part of the staircase and swing from the 3rd or 4th or 5th step while holding onto the bottom pole in an impressive display of upper body strength that would make any stripper proud. I swung like a monkey on the silver painted poles that barricaded the parking lot across the street with my long brown hair dragging through the dirt. I begged every Wednesday night to walk to Gorin's for a waffle cone after church and was usually told no. I took great care in my hard soled Sunday shoes to pop as many seeds that fell from the huge tree out front. That tree is gone now. Its huge roots were buckling the concrete and its towering branches stretched high over the church roof. I wriggled in my seat as the invitation song, the announcements, and the prayer were concluded so that I could bound from the pew and run to the gym (we called it "The Family Life Center," but it was a gym). I would play while my mom and dad visited (or fellowshipped), and then I would whine when it was finally time to leave. I helped decorated that gym for the Harvest Banquet every year, and hosted several Parent Appreciation Dinners there as a teen. Some of my fondest memories are of the Halloween parties that they used to have there -- popcorn, Abbot & Costello, and costume contests. I won the year that I made a killer robot costume out of an old dryer box, silver spray paint, and light bright pegs.
For those of you not raised in the church, this might sound odd, but when you are raised in the Lord, surrounded on all sides by Him, even before you choose to be baptised, you have taken Him on like a reflection from those around you. I always knew that I would choose a life with Christ, and at a weekend teen retreat at Henry and Melba Bragg's Elk River cabin, I decided it was time. I was 14, and I was baptised by Clyde Jones at Central the Sunday morning after we got back with my parents and grandparents looking on. It was a good day. I didn't know it at the time, but the first real attack on my faith was just a few months away in the form of "The Boston Movement" where I saw our congregation that was bursting at the seams one Sunday go to a meager gathering of the faithful just a few weeks later. Although I have prayed alot about forgiving those responsible, I will never get over the effect that it had on me. It was my first experience with church "politics" (for lack of a more universally understood word), and in many ways it left me cynical. I am certain that the church had its problems before that, but I was oblivious to them. Sometimes, growing up sucks.
I know that I have romanticized the building, the grounds, and even the people in my head, but they are still the standard by which I judge other congregations. Central, in all its glory, warts and all, is "Home." There will never be another church that I can walk through and feel so at ease, so comfortable, like I belong. The people who taught my Sunday school classes, now teach my kids when we go home to visit. Ed and Gerry still raise the roof with the singing. Kids still swing on that banister. It is a constant comfort to me to know that it is there -- growing, flourishing, changing, yet always the same.
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