Bitching and Moaning

The title to this post is not very accurate, but I could not say "Rants and Raves" because that would infringe on Kirsten's territory. I went on Friday and signed my contract with the McIntosh county school system. I am officially employed! I began to be a little nervous when I had not been asked by them to come in and sign my contract. I thought that they had decided not to hire me and hated me so much that they were not going to call and tell me. But they did call and I went. They are having new teacher orientation on August 1st so I get to go and meet the other new teachers and get all of my benefit information. I am so thrilled that I can get dental insurance that includes orthodontics. Trey can finally get his gap closed :) I worked my bum off to pay the 3,700 dollars for Reese's braces, but it was well worth it - nothing says "Neglect" like a messed up grill. That may be harsh, but I hate screwed up teeth, and one time, on Oprah, they had an expert that says people judge you first and foremost by your teeth. I am also happy that I can get some much needed work done to my own neglected grill. I also found out that the governor is giving all Georgia teachers a $100 gift card to use for materials for their classroom. The human resource lady did not make it clear that this was for the classroom, so I thought it was just a gift for the teachers. So I had my first gaffe when I said,
"Oh great, I have three little ones to get ready for school and that will come in handy."
"No. That card is only for your classroom."
I was embarrassed. Now she will think I am a dull creature. I thought the card was a nice gesture from governor Purdue, but the lady in human resources, Ms. Starr, said that it was only because it was an election year. Well, thanks anyway Sonny.

On another note, in last nights Brunswick news (you can read it online at www.thebrunswicknews.com) there was an article about the findings of an investigation into the discipline referrals in the Glynn county schools. The investigation revealed that minority students make up a disproportionate number of discipline referrals and that it seems to be the same teachers over and over again. This morning, I listened to Straight Talk on the local AM station and they were discussing the article. One of the principals in town makes her teachers read Understanding Poverty by Ruby Payne so they can understand how poverty affects a child's learning experience. Sounds like a great idea to me. One guy called in and said, "I think it is just crazy that that principal makes everyone read that book. I mean, you are asking teachers to dumb themselves down is ridiculous."
Yeah, reading a book is asking teachers to "dumb down." What on earth are people thinking? Do they really think that trying to understand the lives of their students is not a good thing? That knowing what it is like to be hungry and have a crack head for a mom or dad would not be useful for a teacher? I was infuriated and I tried to get through but the lines were jammed up with idiots who wanted to express the same opinion as that moron. OK. I feel better now.

A New Favorite

I have been a little to needy lately, so I thought I would share a website with you that I have fallen in love with. Most of you are probably familiar with it, but I am always a johnny-come-lately. It is www.theonion.com. It has headlines such as "Deadlocked Supreme Court: Someone's Voting Twice," "Comedian Confesses to Killing them Out There," "Giant Cockroach In Bathroom 'A Harrowing,Kafkaesque Experience,' Grad Student Says," and my favorite so far, "$18 Payment To Sponsored Child Withheld To Teach Child A Lesson."

Lately, every news story depresses me. It seems as if the world is in a state of turmoil and I fear for the future of my children, so a little humor is always appreciated.

This is How I Feel

I love sunflowers. They usually stand so tall and beautiful. They usually look as if they are smiling and enjoying the sun on their upturned faces. I was walking around yesterday, and it was so incredibly hot and humid, that when I saw this flower, I thought: "This is how I feel." The heat has just sapped me of my ability to enjoy being outside, which is something I always like to do, but it is just too hot to appreciate anything other than an air conditioned room.

I am also very disappointed in myself. I was going to take the time I had off from school to lose forty pounds before I began teaching. Once again I failed to meet my goal. I have not been going to the gym or eating healthy like I know I should. I just cannot seem to gain control over my eating habits. Self-control and discipline allude me in the areas of food and exercise. I am reading a book I borrowed from Audrey about personal finance called the Total Money Makeover by Dave Ramsey. Last night I read a line that struck me as absolutely true: "The only thing stopping me from being skinny and rich is the man in the mirror." He is right. For me, rich is a distant second to skinny. Given the choice, I would chose skinny any day. So why is it that I cannot attain something so seemingly important to me? In the real, I only have myself to blame.

Redeeming Myself

 
I could not stand to think of leaving all of you with the other image of myself. See, I was so cute! My mom said I loved boots and these are fantastic boots! I was four in the top pic and a prescious lamb of six months in the bottom. My mom was feeding me something (probably a sweet) and that is my brother Robbie just behind me. He was so cute then. This is the first time I noticed him in the background. 

As Requested

 
 
Please let me explain the reasoning behind posting these pictures. Kirsten wanted a picture of me in my teens wearing my goon suit. I really like to hear Kirsten guffaw so, even though I can't be there to hear it, I like to make her laugh otherwise I would not do this. I added pictures of other goobers wearing the same outfit so you will know that I had no choice in the matter and I was not alone in my humiliation. The girl on the bottom right is still one of my very good friends Tammi. She is Wannabe Rock Star's wife on my myspace page. The girl on the left kissed my boyfriend and turned into a whore, but later she settled down, moved to Atlanta and married a drummer in a band. They are very happy, and I am glad. I never did hold a grudge about that kiss. The girl in the middle is Shaun and she is a bitch now, and acts like she does not see me sometimes and then other times acts like she is my best friend. She has not changed much since middle school. Laugh all you want. I don't know how clear the image is, but I had on purple eyeshadow, blush and unplucked eyebrows. Ugh! The haircut! Shameful! I prefer to remember my teen years looking like I do in the pic on the bottom. I had a wig on by the way . . . Notice the Emmanuel Christian School Patriots jacket behind me? I think I was 13 or 14 in these pictures. I look younger now . . . O the eighty's! 

Library Thing

As the time approaches for me to enter the classroom, I am reading everything I can get my hands on to help me out. I am reading a book called In the Middle by Nancy Atwell, and Atwell advises teachers to let their students immerse themselves in books that they enjoy instead of imposing their own reading choices on the class. I really want to create an atmosphere where reading is not a chore, but a joy. Idealistic I know, but I prefer idealism to being jaded. The problem is that because of the school I went to, I have no real idea of good adolescent literature - books that are literary and relevant to the lives of students without being boring. So, I need your help. Make a list of some of the books you read in middle school and high school that meant something to you, or that you just enjoyed reading, and send it to me. I am going to get a library of your recommendations together and have it available in my classroom. I am curious which books will wind up repeatedly on the lists.
Thanks for your help!

Failure

For most of my life I have lived in fear of failure. No, as I think of this, that is not true. My teen years were spent doing things that no one else would do. I had no fear of rejection. While my friends waited by the phone for a guy to call them, I was the girl that picked up the phone and called the boy that I wanted to date. I went white water rafting, talked to influential people as if they could never reject me and organized protests against wrongs in my school. When my mom introduced me to her old boyfriend Brooks from high school, who was now a wealthy real estate developer, I told him my plans for life. I respected and admired Brooks because he was a kind man who made great decisions and was, and still is, the most charitable man I have ever met. I will always remember - with much regret - what he said:"I believe you will do that, but much more as well." I don't want you to think that I was superwoman or anything, but I was always, always different from those around me - maybe that is good, and maybe not, but that is how it was for me for as long as I can remember.
My need to live above the rules that everyone else followed lead me to make a lot of mistakes in my life. And after those mistakes, my fear of failure became a major issue in my life. If I could be so wrong about the man I chose to marry and have children with, then how could I trust myself to make good choices for my life? Self-doubt will lead to much hand-wringing, and not a lot of joy in life. Only recently have I been able to get back a touch of my reckless, teenage self - a little late - but maybe not. I am by no means old, but I cannot think of myself alone. Living above the rules has its consequences and I am no longer willing to pay those consequences. I would have three other people paying along with me and that is too high of a price for me. Maybe, with the rest of my life, I can do some of the things that Brooks saw me doing. I stand on the verge of failure - I am terrified at the thought of being a teacher, or at least a good teacher - but I hope that my fear of failure will dissipate in the face of the good I can do in the classroom.

Well Said Barack

The following is a speech given by Barack Obama. I think he says what I believe better than I could ever say it. It may be long, but I think it is wonderful and well-worth reading.

Remarks of Senator Barack Obama

Call to Renewal Keynote Address

Washington, DC

Wednesday, June 28th, 2006




Good morning. I appreciate the opportunity to speak here at the Call to Renewal’s Building a Covenant for a New America conference, and I’d like to congratulate you all on the thoughtful presentations you’ve given so far about poverty and justice in America. I think all of us would affirm that caring for the poor finds root in all of our religious traditions – certainly that’s true for my own.


But today I’d like to talk about the connection between religion and politics and perhaps offer some thoughts about how we can sort through some of the often bitter arguments over this issue over the last several years.


I do so because, as you all know, we can affirm the importance of poverty in the Bible and discuss the religious call to environmental stewardship all we want, but it won’t have an impact if we don’t tackle head-on the mutual suspicion that sometimes exists between religious America and secular America.


For me, this need was illustrated during my 2004 face for the U.S. Senate. My opponent, Alan Keyes, was well-versed in the Jerry Falwell-Pat Robertson style of rhetoric that often labels progressives as both immoral and godless.


Indeed, towards the end of the campaign, Mr. Keyes said that, “Jesus Christ would not vote for Barack Obama. Christ would not vote for Barack Obama because Barack Obama has behaved in a way that it is inconceivable for Christ to have behaved.”


Now, I was urged by some of my liberal supporters not to take this statement seriously. To them, Mr. Keyes was an extremist, his arguments not worth entertaining.


What they didn’t understand, however, was that I had to take him seriously. For he claimed to speak for my religion – he claimed knowledge of certain truths.


Mr. Obama says he’s a Christian, he would say, and yet he supports a lifestyle that the Bible calls an abomination.


Mr. Obama says he’s a Christian, but supports the destruction of innocent and sacred life.


What would my supporters have me say? That a literalist reading of the Bible was folly? That Mr. Keyes, a Roman Catholic, should ignore the teachings of the Pope?




Unwilling to go there, I answered with the typically liberal response in some debates – namely, that we live in a pluralistic society, that I can’t impose my religious views on another, that I was running to be the U.S. Senator of Illinois and not the Minister of Illinois.


But Mr. Keyes implicit accusation that I was not a true Christian nagged at me, and I was also aware that my answer didn’t adequately address the role my faith has in guiding my own values and beliefs.


My dilemma was by no means unique. In a way, it reflected the broader debate we’ve been having in this country for the last thirty years over the role of religion in politics.


For some time now, there has been plenty of talk among pundits and pollsters that the political divide in this country has fallen sharply along religious lines. Indeed, the single biggest “gap” in party affiliation among white Americans today is not between men and women, or those who reside in so-called Red States and those who reside in Blue, but between those who attend church regularly and those who don’t.


Conservative leaders, from Falwell and Robertson to Karl Rove and Ralph Reed, have been all too happy to exploit this gap, consistently reminding evangelical Christians that Democrats disrespect their values and dislike their Church, while suggesting to the rest of the country that religious Americans care only about issues like abortion and gay marriage; school prayer and intelligent design.


Democrats, for the most part, have taken the bait. At best, we may try to avoid the conversation about religious values altogether, fearful of offending anyone and claiming that – regardless of our personal beliefs – constitutional principles tie our hands. At worst, some liberals dismiss religion in the public square as inherently irrational or intolerant, insisting on a caricature of religious Americans that paints them as fanatical, or thinking that the very word “Christian” describes one’s political opponents, not people of faith.


Such strategies of avoidance may work for progressives when the opponent is Alan Keyes. But over the long haul, I think we make a mistake when we fail to acknowledge the power of faith in the lives of the American people, and join a serious debate about how to reconcile faith with our modern, pluralistic democracy.


We first need to understand that Americans are a religious people. 90 percent of us believe in God, 70 percent affiliate themselves with an organized religion, 38 percent call themselves committed Christians, and substantially more people believe in angels than do those who believe in evolution.


This religious tendency is not simply the result of successful marketing by skilled preachers or the draw of popular mega-churches. In fact, it speaks to a hunger that’s deeper than that – a hunger that goes beyond any particular issue or cause.


Each day, it seems, thousands of Americans are going about their daily round – dropping off the kids at school, driving to the office, flying to a business meeting, shopping at the mall, trying to stay on their diets – and coming to the realization that something is missing. They are deciding that their work, their possessions, their diversions, their sheer busyness, is not enough.


They want a sense of purpose, a narrative arc to their lives. They’re looking to relieve a chronic loneliness, a feeling supported by a recent study that shows Americans have fewer close friends and confidants than ever before. And so they need an assurance that somebody out there cares about them, is listening to them – that they are not just destined to travel down a long highway towards nothingness.


I speak from experience here. I was not raised in a particularly religious household. My father, who returned to Kenya when I was just two, was Muslim but as an adult became an atheist. My mother, whose parents were non-practicing Baptists and Methodists, grew up with a healthy skepticism of organized religion herself. As a consequence, I did too.


It wasn’t until after college, when I went to Chicago to work as a community organizer for a group of Christian churches, that I confronted my own spiritual dilemma.


The Christians who I worked with recognized themselves in me; they saw that I knew their Book and shared their values and sang their songs. But they sensed a part of me that remained removed, detached, an observer in their midst. In time, I too came to realize that something was missing – that without a vessel for my beliefs, without a commitment to a particular community of faith, at some level I would always remain apart and alone.


If not for the particular attributes of the historically black church, I may have accepted this fate. But as the months passed in Chicago, I found myself drawn to the church.


For one thing, I believed and still believe in the power of the African-American religious tradition to spur social change, a power made real by some of the leaders here today. Because of its past, the black church understands in an intimate way the Biblical call to feed the hungry and cloth the naked and challenge powers and principalities. And in its historical struggles for freedom and the rights of man, I was able to see faith as more than just a comfort to the weary or a hedge against death; it is an active, palpable agent in the world. It is a source of hope.


And perhaps it was out of this intimate knowledge of hardship, the grounding of faith in struggle, that the church offered me a second insight: that faith doesn’t mean that you don’t have doubts. You need to come to church precisely because you are of this world, not apart from it; you need to embrace Christ precisely because you have sins to wash away – because you are human and need an ally in your difficult journey.


It was because of these newfound understandings that I was finally able to walk down the aisle of Trinity United Church of Christ one day and affirm my Christian faith. It came about as a choice, and not an epiphany; the questions I had did not magically disappear. But kneeling beneath that cross on the South Side of Chicago, I felt I heard God’s spirit beckoning me. I submitted myself to His will, and dedicated myself to discovering His truth.


The path I traveled has been shared by millions upon millions of Americans – evangelicals, Catholics, Protestants, Jews and Muslims alike; some since birth, others at a turning point in their lives. It is not something they set apart from the rest of their beliefs and values. In fact, it is often what drives them.


This is why, if we truly hope to speak to people where they’re at – to communicate our hopes and values in a way that’s relevant to their own – we cannot abandon the field of religious discourse.


Because when we ignore the debate about what it means to be a good Christian or Muslim or Jew; when we discuss religion only in the negative sense of where or how it should not be practiced, rather than in the positive sense of what it tells us about our obligations towards one another; when we shy away from religious venues and religious broadcasts because we assume that we will be unwelcome – others will fill the vacuum, those with the most insular views of faith, or those who cynically use religion to justify partisan ends.


In other words, if we don’t reach out to evangelical Christians and other religious Americans and tell them what we stand for, Jerry Falwell’s and Pat Robertson’s will continue to hold sway.


More fundamentally, the discomfort of some progressives with any hint of religion has often prevented us from effectively addressing issues in moral terms. Some of the problem here is rhetorical – if we scrub language of all religious content, we forfeit the imagery and terminology through which millions of Americans understand both their personal morality and social justice. Imagine Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address without reference to “the judgments of the Lord,” or King’s I Have a Dream speech without reference to “all of God’s children.” Their summoning of a higher truth helped inspire what had seemed impossible and move the nation to embrace a common destiny.


Our failure as progressives to tap into the moral underpinnings of the nation is not just rhetorical. Our fear of getting “preachy” may also lead us to discount the role that values and culture play in some of our most urgent social problems.


After all, the problems of poverty and racism, the uninsured and the unemployed, are not simply technical problems in search of the perfect ten point plan. They are rooted in both societal indifference and individual callousness – in the imperfections of man.


Solving these problems will require changes in government policy; it will also require changes in hearts and minds. I believe in keeping guns out of our inner cities, and that our leaders must say so in the face of the gun manufacturer’s lobby – but I also believe that when a gang-banger shoots indiscriminately into a crowd because he feels somebody disrespected him, we have a problem of morality; there’s a hole in that young man’s heart – a hole that government programs alone cannot fix.


I believe in vigorous enforcement of our non-discrimination laws; but I also believe that a transformation of conscience and a genuine commitment to diversity on the part of the nation’s CEOs can bring quicker results than a battalion of lawyers.


I think we should put more of our tax dollars into educating poor girls and boys, and give them the information about contraception that can prevent unwanted pregnancies, lower abortion rates, and help assure that that every child is loved and cherished. But my bible tells me that if we train a child in the way he should go, when he is old he will not turn from it. I think faith and guidance can help fortify a young woman’s sense of self, a young man’s sense of responsibility, and a sense of reverence all young people for the act of sexual intimacy.


I am not suggesting that every progressive suddenly latch on to religious terminology. Nothing is more transparent than inauthentic expressions of faith – the politician who shows up at a black church around election time and claps – off rhythm – to the gospel choir.


But what I am suggesting is this – secularists are wrong when they ask believers to leave their religion at the door before entering into the public square. Frederick Douglas, Abraham Lincoln, Williams Jennings Bryant, Dorothy Day, Martin Luther King – indeed, the majority of great reformers in American history – were not only motivated by faith, but repeatedly used religious language to argue for their cause. To say that men and women should not inject their “personal morality” into public policy debates is a practical absurdity; our law is by definition a codification of morality, much of it grounded in the Judeo-Christian tradition.


Moreover, if we progressives shed some of these biases, we might recognize the overlapping values that both religious and secular people share when it comes to the moral and material direction of our country. We might recognize that the call to sacrifice on behalf of the next generation, the need to think in terms of “thou” and not just “I,” resonates in religious congregations across the country. And we might realize that we have the ability to reach out to the evangelical community and engage millions of religious Americans in the larger project of America’s renewal.


Some of this is already beginning to happen. Pastors like Rick Warren and T.D. Jakes are wielding their enormous influences to confront AIDS, Third World debt relief, and the genocide in Darfur. Religious thinkers and activists like my friend Jim Wallis and Tony Campolo are lifting up the Biblical injunction to help the poor as a means of mobilizing Christians against budget cuts to social programs and growing inequality. National denominations have shown themselves as a force on Capitol Hill, on issues such as immigration and the federal budget. And across the country, individual churches like my own are sponsoring day care programs, building senior centers, helping ex-offenders reclaim their lives, and rebuilding our gulf coast in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina.


To build on these still-tentative partnerships between the religious and secular worlds will take work – a lot more work than we’ve done so far. The tensions and suspicions on each side of the religious divide will have to be squarely addressed, and each side will need to accept some ground rules for collaboration.


While I’ve already laid out some of the work that progressives need to do on this, I that the conservative leaders of the Religious Right will need to acknowledge a few things as well.


For one, they need to understand the critical role that the separation of church and state has played in preserving not only our democracy, but the robustness of our religious practice. That during our founding, it was not the atheists or the civil libertarians who were the most effective champions of this separation; it was the persecuted religious minorities, Baptists like John Leland, who were most concerned that any state-sponsored religion might hinder their ability to practice their faith.


Moreover, given the increasing diversity of America’s population, the dangers of sectarianism have never been greater. Whatever we once were, we are no longer just a Christian nation; we are also a Jewish nation, a Muslim nation, a Buddhist nation, a Hindu nation, and a nation of nonbelievers.


And even if we did have only Christians within our borders, who’s Christianity would we teach in the schools? James Dobson’s, or Al Sharpton’s? Which passages of Scripture should guide our public policy? Should we go with Levitacus, which suggests slavery is ok and that eating shellfish is abomination? How about Deuteronomy, which suggests stoning your child if he strays from the faith? Or should we just stick to the Sermon on the Mount – a passage so radical that it’s doubtful that our Defense Department would survive its application?


This brings me to my second point. Democracy demands that the religiously motivated translate their concerns into universal, rather than religion-specific, values. It requires that their proposals be subject to argument, and amenable to reason. I may be opposed to abortion for religious reasons, but if I seek to pass a law banning the practice, I cannot simply point to the teachings of my church or evoke God’s will. I have to explain why abortion violates some principle that is accessible to people of all faiths, including those with no faith at all.


This may be difficult for those who believe in the inerrancy of the Bible, as many evangelicals do. But in a pluralistic democracy, we have no choice. Politics depends on our ability to persuade each other of common aims based on a common reality. It involves the compromise, the art of the possible. At some fundamental level, religion does not allow for compromise. It insists on the impossible. If God has spoken, then followers are expected to live up to God’s edicts, regardless of the consequences. To base one’s life on such uncompromising commitments may be sublime; to base our policy making on such commitments would be a dangerous thing.


We all know the story of Abraham and Isaac. Abraham is ordered by God to offer up his only son, and without argument, he takes Isaac to the mountaintop, binds him to an altar, and raises his knife, prepared to act as God has commanded.


Of course, in the end God sends down an angel to intercede at the very last minute, and Abraham passes God’s test of devotion.


But it’s fair to say that if any of us saw a twenty-first century Abraham raising the knife on the roof of his apartment building, we would, at the very least, call the police and expect the Department of Children and Family Services to take Isaac away from Abraham. We would do so because we do not hear what Abraham hears, do not see what Abraham sees, true as those experiences may be. So the best we can do is act in accordance with those things that are possible for all of us to know, be it common laws or basic reason.


Finally, any reconciliation between faith and democratic pluralism requires some sense of proportion.


This goes for both sides.


Even those who claim the Bible’s inerrancy make distinctions between Scriptural edicts, a sense that some passages – the Ten Commandments, say, or a belief in Christ’s divinity – are central to Christian faith, while others are more culturally specific and may be modified to accommodate modern life.


The American people intuitively understand this, which is why the majority of Catholics practice birth control and some of those opposed to gay marriage nevertheless are opposed to a Constitutional amendment to ban it. Religious leadership need not accept such wisdom in counseling their flocks, but they should recognize this wisdom in their politics.


But a sense of proportion should also guide those who police the boundaries between church and state. Not every mention of God in public is a breach to the wall of separation – context matters. It is doubtful that children reciting the Pledge of Allegiance feel oppressed or brainwashed as a consequence of muttering the phrase “under God;” I certainly didn’t. Having voluntary student prayer groups using school property to meet should not be a threat, any more than its use by the High School Republicans should threaten Democrats. And one can envision certain faith-based programs – targeting ex-offenders or substance abusers – that offer a uniquely powerful way of solving problems.


So we all have some work to do here. But I am hopeful that we can bridge the gaps that exist and overcome the prejudices each of us bring to this debate. And I have faith that millions of believing Americans want that to happen. No matter how religious they may or may not be, people are tired of seeing faith used as a tool to attack and belittle and divide – they’re tired of hearing folks deliver more screed than sermon. Because in the end, that’s not how they think about faith in their own lives.

.

So let me end with another interaction I had during my campaign. A few days after I won the Democratic nomination in my U.S. Senate race, I received an email from a doctor at the University of Chicago Medical School that said the following:


“Congratulations on your overwhelming and inspiring primary win. I was happy to vote for you, and I will tell you that I am seriously considering voting for you in the general election. I write to express my concerns that may, in the end, prevent me from supporting you.”


The doctor described himself as a Christian who understood his commitments to be “totalizing.” His faith led him to a strong opposition to abortion and gay marriage, although he said that his faith also led him to question the idolatry of the free market and quick resort to militarism that seemed to characterize much of President Bush’s foreign policy.


But the reason the doctor was considering not voting for me was not simply my position on abortion. Rather, he had read an entry that my campaign had posted on my website, which suggested that I would fight “right wing ideologues who want to take away a woman’s right to choose.” He went on to write:


“I sense that you have a strong sense of justice…and I also sense that you are a fair minded person with a high regard for reason…Whatever your convictions, if you truly believe that those who oppose abortion are all ideologues driven by perverse desires to inflict suffering on women, then you, in my judgment, are not fair-minded….You know that we enter times that are fraught with possibilities for good and for harm, times when we are struggling to make sense of a common polity in the context of plurality, when we are unsure of what grounds we have for making any claims that involve others…I do not ask at this point that you oppose abortion, only that you speak about this issue in fair-minded words.”


I checked my web-site and found the offending words. My staff had written them to summarize my pro-choice position during the Democratic primary, at a time when some of my opponents were questioning my commitment to protect Roe v. Wade.


Re-reading the doctor’s letter, though, I felt a pang of shame. It is people like him who are looking for a deeper, fuller conversation about religion in this country. They may not change their positions, but they are willing to listen and learn from those who are willing to speak in reasonable terms – those who know of the central and awesome place that God holds in the lives of so many, and who refuse to treat faith as simply another political issue with which to score points.


I wrote back to the doctor and thanked him for his advice. The next day, I circulated the email to my staff and changed the language on my website to state in clear but simple terms my pro-choice position. And that night, before I went to bed, I said a prayer of my own – a prayer that I might extend the same presumption of good faith to others that the doctor had extended to me.


It is a prayer I still say for America today – a hope that we can live with one another in a way that reconciles the beliefs of each with the good of all. It’s a prayer worth praying, and a conversation worth having in this country in the months and years to come. Thank you.

Falling in Love

I absolutely love falling in love. A well known fact about me is that I fall in love several times a day. In fact, I fell in love in the hallway of Gamble Hall today. Dr. Winterhalter and I were talking outside of her office and a young man, who had to be a member of the tennis team, walked by and both of us fell in love.
He was beautiful, and not just my standard of beautiful, anyone would have fallen for him.
As much as I try to believe that I do not need a man in my life, I am terrified by the thought of never feeling truly, rapturously in love again. One of my favorite books is The Portrait of a Lady by Henry James. It is tragic in some ways, but I want the kind of declaration love that Ralph gives Isabel on his death bed:

"And remember this . . . That if you've been hated you've also been loved. Ah but, Isabel - adored!"

It sounds so true, so real of Ralph; to balance the good with the bad. We are, in life, both loved and hated; adored and disdained. I have spent so much of my time reading great love stories that I worry my expectations may be too high. I hope not. What do you think of the love of the romantic movie or novel? Can anyone live up to that? Or even come close?

What I Am Doing . . .

Right now, I am sitting for 5 hours a day and listening to a grumpy old man routine with a little bit of classroom management mixed in. He is keeping us very busy, so my posts may be few and far between. Just to let you know what was going on!

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My Cubby

Since so many of you like stories about my weird school, I thought I would share a picture that I came across to day while looking for something at my mom's. This was a picture I took from the seat of my desk at school. The large "A" stands for A honor role, and the flags are the flags we have to raise when we needed help. The Christian flag for minor emergencies and the American flag when we needed the help of a man (seriously, I am not kidding). If you see anything that strikes you as curios, besides the entire set-up, ask me and I will explain how we did things at Emmanuel.

Coffee

I love coffee, and because I am exiled to a non-Starbuck town, I have gotten used to drinking McDonald's coffee. Not much of a downgrade as you would think. At 1.33 for a large coffee, it is more economical and it has a drive-thru. Quite a plus for a girl that like to drink her coffee still clad in their pajama pants and wife-beater. I go to the same McDonald's every morning and I have became well acquainted with the ladies that work at the window. One, however is an enigma. Some mornings, she smiles broadly and says, "Hey, I got your Splenda and cream. Here. Good morning." Other mornings she looks through me as if this is the first time she has ever laid eyes on me. I gauge my response by hers. I am always friendly, but never too familiar. I fear coming off as condescending - a feeling I hate - but I want to know what brings about those mornings of seeming despair, or maybe she's just sleepy. It is such a thankless, low-paying job; where people work with assholes and serve assholes. Although they infuriate me sometimes, I know that if I were them, I would be grumpy too.

Who Do you Love?

Kirsten is reading Pride and Prejudice in her Novel class this summer, and she sent me an email this morning asking me if I was in love with Mr. Darcy. She knows I have a tendency to fall head over heels for fictional characters. Ralph Touchett from Portrait of a Lady, Ethan Frome from Ethan Frome, Lawrence Selden from The House of Mirth, Florentino Ariza from Love in the Time of Cholera . . . I could go on and on. But, if I had to say who I truly and fictionally loved the most, it would have to be Sydney Carton from A Tale of Two Cities. I watched the movie (1935) when I was a little girl, and could not wait to get my hands on the book. I still remember tears streaming down my face as I read Sydney's last lines,"It is a far,far better thing that I do than I have ever done. It is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known." He did it all for the love of a woman who loved another man. Just heartbreaking. Who do you love . . . fictionally? Tell me why.

Trips

Me and my brother Robbie

When I was younger, every year my family went to Lake Weir, Florida on vacation. We used to all have matching t-shirts that said "Weir Crazy" that we would wear on our way down there. I was always the first one dressed in my t-shirt and I always bugged my brothers to put their shirts on hours ahead of time. They hated me because I was the only girl and the baby, and so, if I insisted, Daddy made them put their shirt on way before they wanted to get dressed. All because of me. I could not help it; I loved going to Lake Weir. We rented a cabin on top of a hill and to get to the lake, I had to walk through orange trees and down a long gravel road. I can distinctly remember learning how to blow my first bubble walking down that road to the lake. It was Super Bubble that I bought from the little country store that was located on the beach of the lake. The store was more like a recreation room than a store. It had a jukebox and a few pool tables and a place to rent tubes if you wanted to go tubing. I also bought an occasional Stewart sandwich from there also, but Mama always went to the grocery store and stocked up so we did not have to buy too much from the store.


My cousin Dusty
There was something about Lake Weir that made my family do things we did not do at home. We ate Hoagie sandwiches for dinner, but at home, we never had a cold dinner. My mom always cooked, so it was a real vacation for her. We went to the movies at Lake Weir - shows like The Apple Dumpling Gang and Jaws - and it was such a treat because we never did that at home. However, Jaws was not such a good choice when we were spending 90% of our vacation in the water. Along with blowing bubbles, I also learned to swim at Lake Weir. My dad would throw me off the dock and then walk away from me as I struggled and gasped my way towards him. At times, I could not believe he could be so cruel, but I did learn to swim. I could not wait for the day when I could follow my brothers to the big, high dock where the cool girls sunbathed while the guys smoked cigarettes and flirted with the girls in the string bikinis. You can see it in the background of the pics. It was the place to be. Obviously, I never made it in my bikini. The pics on here (yes, that is me doing a fabulous back flip) are the last known photographs of me in a two-piece. At least, I hope they are. If you look closely at this pic, you can see my father's hand just at the edge of the picture; waiting to grab me if I should hit my head or have trouble finding my way up from the bottom.






When I was 10, we went to Lake Weir for the last time. Two of my brothers were older and had full-time jobs, so they decided to stay home, but my older brother and his wife and son came with us. My dad was very upset that Robbie and Tim decided not to make the family trip. As we rode down the white gravel road that serpentined through orange groves, I remember my mom reaching over and grabbing my dad's hand and saying, "They are growing up Charles. They will come again next year." It was not the same without "the boys," as we always called them. A week after we got back from Lake Weir, my dad was killed in an accident at work. My brothers say they still have not gotten over the fact that they did not go that year, and we have planned trips back, but these plans have never quite worked out. I think we may all want to remember Lake Weir with our dad; the way it should be remembered.

My Student Teaching

Since most of you are not familiar with Brunswick, I wanted to show you where i was going to be doing my student teaching. So, here it is . . . Tell me what you think.

Beginning Again

When I was younger, I went to a school with a very limited library. When I say limited, I mean limited. We had a total of three or four books, and all of them had a Christian theme. The only one any of you may recognize is John Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. There was also a book about missionaries to China and a couple of Joy Sparton books. Joy Sparton was a preachers daughter, who, along with her brother Roy, got into humorous predicament with the members of her fathers church. I did enjoy reading of Joy Sparton's mishaps.

Because of the limited school library, me favorite day of the week was Saturday when the Book-Mobile would come to our neighborhood. I still remember the smell of books and the cold air that blasted into my face as soon as the door to that RV opened. I checked out and read book after book, but the Book-Mobile was limited as well. Many of their books were for young readers, so as I grew older I had to turn elsewhere for my reading material. One day, I went into my mothers closet and found some old books. Many of them were the Reader's Digest Condensed books, but in the middle of that old box was a nondescript book with a plain blue cover and yellowed pages. I took it out and opened it up to see the name of the book. "Jane Eyre," it read in a beautiful old-fashioned font. I pushed the box back into the closet and went immediately to my room. I had spent a lot of time in there since the death of my father two years earlier. My mother had gone all out to have it decorated just the way I wanted it, as if having a beautiful room would help ease the pain of being fatherless, and so I would often sink into my fluffy comforter and turn on my swag lamp (in style then) and read for hours. I would feign sickness so I could stay home and read - I finished Gone with the Wind in two days. My brothers, who were all much older than me, were not around to bother me and my mother was at work, so my life was one of solitude with books as my favorite companions. Don't get the wrong idea - I was thrilled with this set of circumstances. I loved to spend hours alone and reading. My isolation was a matter of choice. For the next couple of days, Jane Eyre was my chosen companion. I loved her, and lived and breathed to see her live happily ever after with Rochester. I hated to see the book end. Jane Eyre never left me, and twenty years later, as a college student, I picked it up again. This time armed with an idea of how to read intelligently. It did not change my love for Jane and again I hated to see it end. It made me realize how very little I have changed from that 12 year old girl that found solace in a book; a girl who chooses isolation to let a book take her to another place.

The other day, I had to answer a question on a survey about what book I would read over and over again. I did not even have to think about it - my beloved Jane Eyre. Just typing the name made me pick the same old blue, nondescript book up; beginning it again . . .

Stress

Now that I am out of school, I have much less stress in my life. However, I know that tonight Kirsten will be walking into Gamble 210 for three hours of conversation. She will be listening to Dr. Winterhalter talk passionately about the British Novel, and although I have already taken the class, I could go for another round. I remember the first class I took with Dr. W: Literature by Women, and it was also the first class I ever took with Brandi. Although I did not know it then, both of these women became important influences on my life. I may not miss the stress, but I will miss laughs and giggles with Kirsten, listening to Dr. Winterhalter, and saying to Brandi, "Guess what we are reading? . . ."

Hello Kitty!

Well, my freak show cat just had one little kitten. She probably has five more in her tummy that will not come out. With my luck, she will have to go see the vet for a c-section. She is being a very good mother. Let's just hope there will be NO rectal stimulation! Have a great weekend!

New Baby Kittens!

Hope called me early this morning to tell me that Lady Fribble had had a kitten. I rushed home from work with a box to put the mom and kitten in, because poor Ms. Fribble had her first baby in the middle of the yard. I have been worried that she would have a hard time because she was an abandoned baby whose mother left her at the hotel before she could eat on her own. The kitten was dirty and Lady showed no signs of turning over and letting the kitten feed, but I stood there and petted her and talked to her and said a prayer that instinct would kick in and she would take good care of her little baby. Before I left, she had her baby all cleaned up and was lying with her legs open so Uno could eat. I will keep you updated with pictures as the little darlings come out!