The life plan template asks how I want to be remembered by various people and groups of people when I'm gone. And I'm trying to answer that. Here's my progress so far. I welcome feedback.
Rhett: I want Rhett to remember me as having adored him completely. I want him to be able to say that I never asked him to compromise anything that really meant a lot to him, and helped him to see all the things about himself that I adore. I want him to have felt supported whenever he felt vulnerable, and challenged whenever he became dissatisfied but was fearful to attempt or seek change. I want him to remember the ways I cared for him in every aspect of our relationship. I want him to remember lots and lots of shared laughter, tender moments, and times we supported each other through hardship. I want him to remember me as having been a good steward of my role as the mother of his son.
My Children: I want my children to remember that I never imposed any agenda on them for who or what they should be, other than a basic set of core morals, values, and capabilities. I want them to remember me as having consistently modeled those morals and values, even when I thought they weren’t looking. I want them to remember me as having provided them all that they needed in order to grow up and become self-sufficient adults, including plenty of room to fail. I want them to remember my presence at every event that they felt was important at the time, and at every event that they dismissed at the time but would later wish I had attended. I want them to remember that I at least tried to find ways to let them explore their interests, express their talents, and improve themselves. I want my children to remember me as having compartmentalized my own feelings about their feelings effectively, so that they had the emotional safety and freedom they needed to express their emotions freely and to know that I would love and respect them unconditionally. I want them to remember that when I made mistakes or wronged them, that I told them I was sorry and genuinely tried to grow and not to do it again. I want them to remember me as having paid attention to the culture that they were growing up in and to have made wise parenting choices based on that world, as opposed to my outdated recollections of the culture of my own youth. That doesn't mean bending to the will of the culture, necessarily; it just means that I won't pretend that my children live in a time different from their own.)
I'm taking a break from the spouse and children sections for a bit (again, I welcome feedback/ideas/insights), and am now working on how I would want my parents, colleagues, clients, and friends to remember me.
This is a useful exercise! It's really forcing me to think about the ways that my day-to-day interactions shape the whole of who I am. It's not that I'm particularly regretful about the things I say/do; it's that I think I miss a lot of opportunities to become more the person I want to be remembered as, and to create the memories I'd want to leave if I were to die tomorrow. I'll be more mindful for having done this.
POSTED BY EMILIE BROWN AT 11:48 AM
2 COMMENTS:
Mya said...
Wow! Thats a great start.
MAY 7, 2009 12:11 PM
Kerry said...
Where did you find the template? Can you post a link?
MAY 18, 2009 11:48 AM
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
FRIDAY, MAY 1, 2009
An attempt to catch up -- few random memories and images of life these past ... err... months I know, I know. I've fallen unforgivably silent, and failed to document a million months of parenting wonderfulness and chaos.
To get some perspective, have a glance a the following before and after. (By this, I mean "before" and "after" - aka since - my recommitment to documenting our memories). Note the relationship between the purple "Bumbo seat and the child in/on/beside) it.
It seems that I fell silent mid September of 2008, so this post is a pitiful attempt to catch up.
There was a fun and fabulous trip to Rhett's hometown to give our son some grandparent time. We had a nice time showing him off and around.
We auditioned a range of costumes for Daniel's first Halloween costume, including a witch outfit to celebrate
and a firefighter just because it's cute and our friends had it lying around the house.
But ultimately we settled on a yoda costume,
loaned by some friends from church whose kiddo, H, wore it the previous Halloween. I laughed and laughed as he crawled around getting the robe tangled under his knees. Here's a photo showing off the tooth he'd sprouted in between auditioning costumes and actually wearing it.
By far the coolest historic event in any of the lives of the Punkie Family was Inauguration Day, 2009. It snowed that day so not too many people made it to our celebration party, but Daniel was dressed up in his so, so fabulous "Yes We Can!" onsie. I've almost gotten the smashed-up carrot stains out of it and it's now hung up on the wall.
It's my favorite piece of baby clothing ever. (Yes, we believe in freedom of opinion regarding political issues, but until Daniel develops an opinion, we are shamelessly attempting to indoctrinate him with ours).
Evidently I failed to photograph Christmas and my sister's wedding (oops), but there are photos out there somewhere and I might post them at some point.
On February 8 he turned one. (I'm still in shock!) We threw him a party and asked that folks bring canned goods for the Interfaith Council in lieu of gifts. He raked in quite a haul and got to make his first charitable contribution the next day at church. (Thanks everyone!!!) A few folks also brought him more traditional birthday gifts, including this extraordinary stuffed elephant made by Kerry, whose talents are unnumbered. Isn't it fantastic!?!? I love it almost as much as Daniel does!
Upon becoming "one" Daniel became eligible to start attending Pasitos Felices, a small pre-school in Pittsboro where a team of gentle, loving, well-educated teachers/caregivers speak exclusively in Spanish all day. The one-year-old class's teacher, Monica, is so wonderful!! She is so kind and creative. Daniel loves her, even if he does still cry a little when his papi drops him off in the mornings.
Rhett and I are really happy in our work. I've found myself working mostly in Siler City, with some Randolph County and a couple of Pittsboro clients. Rhett is more spread out - he drives a lot. Below is a photo that one of my 4 year old clients took of me during an art therapy session. It really does constitute progress that she got a portion of my face in this shot, trust me.
Here's a smattering of images I've snapped based on the fact that I had my camera nearby and my kid was present.
This is what happens when your child picks up $8 worth of brie and you say "it's okay, he doesn't know it's food."
Here's Easter Sunday
And here's my Girl Scout Promise to do a better job of keeping up from now on.
To get some perspective, have a glance a the following before and after. (By this, I mean "before" and "after" - aka since - my recommitment to documenting our memories). Note the relationship between the purple "Bumbo seat and the child in/on/beside) it.
It seems that I fell silent mid September of 2008, so this post is a pitiful attempt to catch up.
There was a fun and fabulous trip to Rhett's hometown to give our son some grandparent time. We had a nice time showing him off and around.
We auditioned a range of costumes for Daniel's first Halloween costume, including a witch outfit to celebrate
and a firefighter just because it's cute and our friends had it lying around the house.
But ultimately we settled on a yoda costume,
loaned by some friends from church whose kiddo, H, wore it the previous Halloween. I laughed and laughed as he crawled around getting the robe tangled under his knees. Here's a photo showing off the tooth he'd sprouted in between auditioning costumes and actually wearing it.
By far the coolest historic event in any of the lives of the Punkie Family was Inauguration Day, 2009. It snowed that day so not too many people made it to our celebration party, but Daniel was dressed up in his so, so fabulous "Yes We Can!" onsie. I've almost gotten the smashed-up carrot stains out of it and it's now hung up on the wall.
It's my favorite piece of baby clothing ever. (Yes, we believe in freedom of opinion regarding political issues, but until Daniel develops an opinion, we are shamelessly attempting to indoctrinate him with ours).
Evidently I failed to photograph Christmas and my sister's wedding (oops), but there are photos out there somewhere and I might post them at some point.
On February 8 he turned one. (I'm still in shock!) We threw him a party and asked that folks bring canned goods for the Interfaith Council in lieu of gifts. He raked in quite a haul and got to make his first charitable contribution the next day at church. (Thanks everyone!!!) A few folks also brought him more traditional birthday gifts, including this extraordinary stuffed elephant made by Kerry, whose talents are unnumbered. Isn't it fantastic!?!? I love it almost as much as Daniel does!
Upon becoming "one" Daniel became eligible to start attending Pasitos Felices, a small pre-school in Pittsboro where a team of gentle, loving, well-educated teachers/caregivers speak exclusively in Spanish all day. The one-year-old class's teacher, Monica, is so wonderful!! She is so kind and creative. Daniel loves her, even if he does still cry a little when his papi drops him off in the mornings.
Rhett and I are really happy in our work. I've found myself working mostly in Siler City, with some Randolph County and a couple of Pittsboro clients. Rhett is more spread out - he drives a lot. Below is a photo that one of my 4 year old clients took of me during an art therapy session. It really does constitute progress that she got a portion of my face in this shot, trust me.
Here's a smattering of images I've snapped based on the fact that I had my camera nearby and my kid was present.
This is what happens when your child picks up $8 worth of brie and you say "it's okay, he doesn't know it's food."
Here's Easter Sunday
And here's my Girl Scout Promise to do a better job of keeping up from now on.
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 2008
Change is in the air (apartment, car, office, etc.)
It seems like years since I’ve posted anything
substantive. So, I’ll try to catch us up, but forgive the gaps and
missing details. We’re almost settled into our new home. Rhett is
ready to tear his hair out because, as he was saying every day since
the move until Sunday, “Everything keeps moving!” That’s how I
settle into a new space. I move things around – furniture,
non-furniture. I keep moving things until they are in a place where
they make sense. Sometimes I’ll get too exasperated with whatever
it is, and then I get rid of it. I might also repurpose it. That
could mean using it in a different way as it already is, or a new
coat of paint, or a power saw. You really never know. So you can
understand his frustration. But Sunday we agreed that I get to putter
and move things around for another two weeks, then things will be
still (wherever, and whatever they are). So, I now have 11 more days,
and counting.
We’ve shifted from chaotic business to being a
little less busy, but still living with that energy of changes and
shifts, adjustments, transitions. You know… So, it’s an effort
for me these days to take deeper breaths, and slower breaths, and
consciously assert permission to “just be” for a moment.
Daniel is rolling over all the time. Getting him to
sleep or getting him to stay asleep is largely about convincing him
to stop rolling around and be still. He sleeps on his stomach now,
which the whole internet condemns, but our pediatrician advises us to
tolerate. As he points out, the baby is going to sleep on whatever
side he wants to now. He gets to decide. We’re doing well to
confine him to the sleeping space. And that’s all true even now,
before he crawls.
I say “before he crawls” as if that weren’t a
serious likelihood at any moment. He’s trying hard, and even
achieved backward mobility for milliseconds at a time. Forward
movement is imminent.
People talk about babies achieving mobility as if
it’s such a fabulous thing. Okay, sure, it’s pretty critical for
healthy development and well-being; however, it’s also much harder!
Yes, I look forward to my little giant being able to walk around
outside of my arms (and my aching back and neck) because he is heavy.
But mobile kids are just plain harder. It’s scary to see them
running around on those unsure little legs. They call them “toddlers”
for a reason. They fall, they get hurt, they stick their fingers in
dangerous places and put dangerous things in their mouths. (Warning:
Gross sentence to follow.) Last night, at a client’s house, I saw a
toddler crawl across a living room at lightning speed and with almost
no warning nearly got a cockroach in his mouth. There aren’t any
cockroaches in our home (that we know of), but we’re going to have
to be so incredibly vigilant about not putting our papers on the
floor anymore, never leaving bathroom doors open or toilet seats up,
etc. Our daily habits have to change – again.
Daniel has all-but outgrown the co-sleeper, and we do
technically have a crib, but it’s not here yet. Rhett will have to
go get it, which means borrowing a truck, also not a problem, but
it’s a headache. Another transition. At this moment, Daniel is
napping in our bed, and I’m watching like Hawk-Woman to make sure
he doesn’t roll out of it. Or get his face too into the sheets. Can
you see how this might make me nervous?
But he’s breathing. I promise. I keep checking.
We’re also trying to get out of the habit of
putting Daniel down to sleep with a bottle. He doesn’t have any
teeth quite yet, but that, too, is imminent. And when the teeth
arrive, good dental hygiene requires that they not suck to sleep. So,
we’ve been using a cd I burned off of an Itunes podcast (Dr. Harry
Henshaw) with relaxing music to help him make the transition into
sleep. Last night and today I’ve used the same cd, and massage with
sesame oil. I’m hoping he will associate the smell of the oil and
the massage with the music, and therefore, with sleep. At first he
seems frustrated because he still associates that cd with food, but
he isn’t fussy for long before he decides to relax into sleep. He
really is a good sleeper. We’ve been very lucky in that regard.
While we’re in the mood for change (not), it’s
also time to start introducing solid foods. Here are a couple of
snapshots of our efforts.
We ultimately figured out it's easier to clean up a
nearly-naked baby.
School is back in session for all of Rhett’s and my
clients, which makes it a little harder for us to schedule all our
various appointments in a way that allows us to avoid using non-us
childcare. But Rhett and I are lucky to have a trusted friend, A, who
comes on Fridays after she finishes her indoctrination in corporate
values (here, by “corporate values,” I mean the values of large
groups of usually white men who cloak their malice in a legal entity,
upon which our genius government has bestowed its own rights,
privileges, and liabilities distinct from those of its members.
Swell). It’s otherwise known as “business associations” at the
law school. I took it last year. Painful. The Daniel loves her. She
loves him. It’s fabulous. Rhett and I can leave for appointments or
steep ourselves in paperwork.
And then, there’s this little troublemaker.
No, he’s not staying. Rhett calls him Gomer. I can
never remember that, so I variously call him “Homer,” “Gonzo,”
and “Mo.” During the storm last week, our friend G came over to
drop off a tripod, and as she was leaving she heard a pitiful mewing.
He looks like he’s 8-10 weeks old, not neutered, and was starving.
He’s sweet, but our cat, Dinah hates him. And he isn’t really all
that fond of our dog, Rex. Fortunately, G’s sister just moved back
from Paris, and she’s adopting Gomer. But she has to adopt a place
to live first. Gomer’s here until then. I hope she gets settled in
soon.
Speaking of Rex, he tried to die again the other day.
It’s a long, painful, scary, miserable story. (We really, really
love him) and I won’t go into it with all the details. But suffice
it to say that bottle nipples do, in fact, plug dogs up. Literally.
And he nearly died. He still tries to get to the baby bottles. The
only upside to his flirtation with the other side is that he was
actually not a complete spazz during our houseparty for the Obama
acceptance speech. We had a total of about 22 people here (in our
still not-quite-moved-into townhome). Rexie would have been a
complete menace - a loving, licking, begging menace - but a menace
nonetheless.
Instead, this was he. See the shaved down part for
his catheter line? Poor Rexieboy!
That might be it for now. It might not, but baby is
stirring and I think I'll grab a snack before full waking takes
place.
POSTED BY EMILIE BROWN AT 10:26 AM
WEDNESDAY, JULY 23, 2008
Memo to my beloved son To: Daniel
From: Em
Re: Mama's Nose
Mama's nose is not a button. I know this may be hard to believe, and maybe also difficult to hear. But Mama's nose is not a button. Really, it's not.
POSTED BY EMILIE BROWN AT 2:39 PM
2 COMMENTS:
Aerin said...
Okay, you really need to print this one out and put it in his baby book! :)
JULY 23, 2008 5:23 PM
Don said...
You sure? Because I have had an uncontrollable urge to push on your nose since I met you. :-)>
JULY 23, 2008 9:25 PM
From: Em
Re: Mama's Nose
Mama's nose is not a button. I know this may be hard to believe, and maybe also difficult to hear. But Mama's nose is not a button. Really, it's not.
POSTED BY EMILIE BROWN AT 2:39 PM
2 COMMENTS:
Aerin said...
Okay, you really need to print this one out and put it in his baby book! :)
JULY 23, 2008 5:23 PM
Don said...
You sure? Because I have had an uncontrollable urge to push on your nose since I met you. :-)>
JULY 23, 2008 9:25 PM
Moving - SUNDAY, JULY 27, 2008
Progress is happening all around us these days.
I've recently had a touch of parenting anxiety because I've wondered if Daniel should be doing more grasping at things, holding his bottle on his own, etc. I've also been made aware of exactly how much bigger he is than most kids his age. I put him on our bathroom scale and found him to be about 23lbs. That's average weight for a one-year-old! But he started sitting unsupported almost overnight, and when I started handing him things small enough for his little hands, he held them with no problem. I called the pediatrician to make sure our poor kid wasn't bound for heart disease and was reassured that our "chunky monkey" (as she calls him) is just fine and that we should trust his body to know its needs. It's fun to see him starting to enjoy toys, though frustrating that he tries to type on the keyboard when I do. I like this age; he's more a person all the time.
Also, big announcement: We are moving to Carrboro. Daniel is 5.5 months old now and is increasingly becoming a little boy (as opposed to an immobile infant). Soon he will be crawling, then walking, then running, and our little place is just too small. It has served us well and there are things about it we will miss (close proximity to grocery stores, wooded scenery), but we are excited about our new place too. The new place will almost double the square footage we have now and it will allow Daniel to have his own room, as well as allowing me to stretch out my crafting wings without imposing on the babyproofedness of our new abode. I hope D likes our new digs. We anticipate doing the big part of the move on Tuesday, and that we'll start living in our new place on Tuesday night.
As we prepare to make this transition, we welcome your prayers, your muscles, and any moving boxes you may have to spare. We’re also going to be painting our current place back to its original color, so anyone who wants to burn some calories (approx. 200/hr. for a 140lb woman, more for guys) or hang out with a baby while we paint, come right on over!
I've recently had a touch of parenting anxiety because I've wondered if Daniel should be doing more grasping at things, holding his bottle on his own, etc. I've also been made aware of exactly how much bigger he is than most kids his age. I put him on our bathroom scale and found him to be about 23lbs. That's average weight for a one-year-old! But he started sitting unsupported almost overnight, and when I started handing him things small enough for his little hands, he held them with no problem. I called the pediatrician to make sure our poor kid wasn't bound for heart disease and was reassured that our "chunky monkey" (as she calls him) is just fine and that we should trust his body to know its needs. It's fun to see him starting to enjoy toys, though frustrating that he tries to type on the keyboard when I do. I like this age; he's more a person all the time.
Also, big announcement: We are moving to Carrboro. Daniel is 5.5 months old now and is increasingly becoming a little boy (as opposed to an immobile infant). Soon he will be crawling, then walking, then running, and our little place is just too small. It has served us well and there are things about it we will miss (close proximity to grocery stores, wooded scenery), but we are excited about our new place too. The new place will almost double the square footage we have now and it will allow Daniel to have his own room, as well as allowing me to stretch out my crafting wings without imposing on the babyproofedness of our new abode. I hope D likes our new digs. We anticipate doing the big part of the move on Tuesday, and that we'll start living in our new place on Tuesday night.
As we prepare to make this transition, we welcome your prayers, your muscles, and any moving boxes you may have to spare. We’re also going to be painting our current place back to its original color, so anyone who wants to burn some calories (approx. 200/hr. for a 140lb woman, more for guys) or hang out with a baby while we paint, come right on over!
TUESDAY, JULY 8, 2008 - Controversial Parenting Practices for the Happiest Baby Ever!!
There is no shortage of controversy over parenting practices, even in infancy. To circumcise or not, to breastfeed or formula feed, to Ferberize or … uh, … not. In toddlerhood and beyond it gets even harder. I have lots of opinions about all of these things. If you want to know, ask. In the meantime, let’s talk about swaddling. Evidently there is controversy about swaddling. I didn’t know that; probably because I don’t know many masochists. Apparently most parents stop swaddling after a couple of months. Well, I missed that memo and we've been gleefully swaddling for exactly 5 months now. (Can you believe Daniel is already 5 months old??!!?). I will have to read more about when/why people stop swaddling. I grew up in a Nez Perce cradle board, so that was normal for me. But I need to find out what concerns I might not yet know about.
Further, there is great range in swaddling methods, which my husband and mother don’t think I should tell you about. There’s the traditional swaddling method. Yeah, right. That swaddler never met my kid. Then there are commercial swaddlers. These are great! But at 15 bucks a pop, and a kid growing so fast I think he’s been sprayed with fertilizer, there are only so many of these around. Oh yeah, and said rapidly-growing-baby pee-soaks the swaddler every night.
And then there’s the tape method. We’re not the only ones who’ve thought of this. Okay, fine. I thought of it, but in the wee hours of the morning, Rhett was converted.
Admit it; you’ve considered it too. But no one wants to admit to actually doing it. Well, there's a drought on, dammit, and we're trying not to wash our three swaddlers every night, so what to do? We do wrap the tape around the blanket part of the fabric being used to swaddle him. Cute? Not really. Classy? Certainly not. But oh, the righteous, righteous, righteousness of these sleepless souls. They may be better parents than I am, but I get better sleep.
See my sweet and happy swaddled baby?
2 COMMENTS:
DC Deafie said...
awww! there's my sweet little daniel! i miss him...
and hey, you do what you gotta do...
*hugs*
JULY 9, 2008 10:33 AM
Aerin said...
The first rule of parenting is to trust yourself. Our 2yr old still uses a bottle sometimes; our 4 yr old we swaddled til he was rolling over and out of it - what, 7 months or so? Do what you have to do to stay sane! Only you know your baby!
BTW, that child - the last picture - if that is yours and not a model - OH my goodness - he's adorable!! Best wishes!
JULY 21, 2008 9:06 PM
Further, there is great range in swaddling methods, which my husband and mother don’t think I should tell you about. There’s the traditional swaddling method. Yeah, right. That swaddler never met my kid. Then there are commercial swaddlers. These are great! But at 15 bucks a pop, and a kid growing so fast I think he’s been sprayed with fertilizer, there are only so many of these around. Oh yeah, and said rapidly-growing-baby pee-soaks the swaddler every night.
And then there’s the tape method. We’re not the only ones who’ve thought of this. Okay, fine. I thought of it, but in the wee hours of the morning, Rhett was converted.
Admit it; you’ve considered it too. But no one wants to admit to actually doing it. Well, there's a drought on, dammit, and we're trying not to wash our three swaddlers every night, so what to do? We do wrap the tape around the blanket part of the fabric being used to swaddle him. Cute? Not really. Classy? Certainly not. But oh, the righteous, righteous, righteousness of these sleepless souls. They may be better parents than I am, but I get better sleep.
2 COMMENTS:
DC Deafie said...
awww! there's my sweet little daniel! i miss him...
and hey, you do what you gotta do...
*hugs*
JULY 9, 2008 10:33 AM
Aerin said...
The first rule of parenting is to trust yourself. Our 2yr old still uses a bottle sometimes; our 4 yr old we swaddled til he was rolling over and out of it - what, 7 months or so? Do what you have to do to stay sane! Only you know your baby!
BTW, that child - the last picture - if that is yours and not a model - OH my goodness - he's adorable!! Best wishes!
JULY 21, 2008 9:06 PM
SUNDAY, JUNE 29, 2008
Hello All, I’m sorry for the long silence on my side of the blogging publication lately. I hoped you enjoyed Rhett’s sermon in my absence. I’m probably biased, but I really thought it was very good. Anyway, there’s been no shortage of happenings in our lives lately; and I’ve even had enough time to write about it all, but I’ve needed to spend some time in my head and heart before I started processing things through my fingers and onto the screen.
Yesterday was a really wonderful day. Weirdbird and L were both ordained to the transitional deaconate. L was ordained in Washington (state, not D.C.) and WB was ordained at St. Lukes, Durham. I was able to be at WB’s ordination in body, as well as in spirit, but my thoughts and prayers were very much with L also.
At WB’s ordination I served as cantor/litanist. That means I sang. I used to sing a lot – even majored in singing in college, but I found that (for me, at least) singing for its own sake is a lonely, even selfish use of time. It’s not fulfilling and I could go the rest of my life without singing as a performance again. I wouldn’t miss it. But it’s really nice to be able to participate in the big events in the lives of people I particularly love and admire. It doesn’t happen often – maybe once every year or two years? I don’t keep track. But anyway, today I was honored and deeply humbled to be allowed to take part in one of the seminal events in WB’s journey into priesthood.
There’s a good bit of anxiety that comes along with singing at the important events of loved ones’ lives. I don’t sing much anymore. I don’t have a teacher; and I never, ever practice. Singing is like any other physical activity. What you don’t exercise regularly will turn into blubber and mush. That’s usually how I feel about my voice. Blubber and mush. People say very kind things to me, so maybe I don’t hear myself accurately; but I do really want to give my very best because I know how important these events are, both in their lives and in the lives of the other loved ones gathered around them.
My sister is getting married on December 27 of this year, and she wants me to sing Ave Maria – the Schubert one, not the Gounod. That’s a commonly sung piece of music, and it’s commonly butchered. It’s deceptively tough because while the range is somewhat small, the tessitura sits right in the soprano break; also, there’s a tendency to go on autopilot and either let it get ploddy, or worse, not keep the sound supported with the air it really needs. I’m particularly bad about that these days because since I’m not all that practiced, I’m a bit shy. I don’t feel confident that the sound will be pretty, so I don’t want to let it get too loud; thus, I am overly stingy with breath. Being stingy with breath is a bad thing. First it leads to ugly singing, then to passing out. Frankly, I’m more concerned about the former than the latter of those two.
I’ll be back in a little while to talk some more about the big stuff that’s been going on/has happened recently. Topics to look forward to include Daniel’s baptism, the status of my journeys into “art,” and the car saga. For now, I must prepare to face the day.
Many blessings,
Em
POSTED BY EMILIE BROWN AT 10:29 AM
Yesterday was a really wonderful day. Weirdbird and L were both ordained to the transitional deaconate. L was ordained in Washington (state, not D.C.) and WB was ordained at St. Lukes, Durham. I was able to be at WB’s ordination in body, as well as in spirit, but my thoughts and prayers were very much with L also.
At WB’s ordination I served as cantor/litanist. That means I sang. I used to sing a lot – even majored in singing in college, but I found that (for me, at least) singing for its own sake is a lonely, even selfish use of time. It’s not fulfilling and I could go the rest of my life without singing as a performance again. I wouldn’t miss it. But it’s really nice to be able to participate in the big events in the lives of people I particularly love and admire. It doesn’t happen often – maybe once every year or two years? I don’t keep track. But anyway, today I was honored and deeply humbled to be allowed to take part in one of the seminal events in WB’s journey into priesthood.
There’s a good bit of anxiety that comes along with singing at the important events of loved ones’ lives. I don’t sing much anymore. I don’t have a teacher; and I never, ever practice. Singing is like any other physical activity. What you don’t exercise regularly will turn into blubber and mush. That’s usually how I feel about my voice. Blubber and mush. People say very kind things to me, so maybe I don’t hear myself accurately; but I do really want to give my very best because I know how important these events are, both in their lives and in the lives of the other loved ones gathered around them.
My sister is getting married on December 27 of this year, and she wants me to sing Ave Maria – the Schubert one, not the Gounod. That’s a commonly sung piece of music, and it’s commonly butchered. It’s deceptively tough because while the range is somewhat small, the tessitura sits right in the soprano break; also, there’s a tendency to go on autopilot and either let it get ploddy, or worse, not keep the sound supported with the air it really needs. I’m particularly bad about that these days because since I’m not all that practiced, I’m a bit shy. I don’t feel confident that the sound will be pretty, so I don’t want to let it get too loud; thus, I am overly stingy with breath. Being stingy with breath is a bad thing. First it leads to ugly singing, then to passing out. Frankly, I’m more concerned about the former than the latter of those two.
I’ll be back in a little while to talk some more about the big stuff that’s been going on/has happened recently. Topics to look forward to include Daniel’s baptism, the status of my journeys into “art,” and the car saga. For now, I must prepare to face the day.
Many blessings,
Em
POSTED BY EMILIE BROWN AT 10:29 AM
THURSDAY, JULY 3, 2008
As I write this, I have just crawled back into bed
with my laptop. It’s not quite 8am and I’ve been lying awake for
nearly two hours from a headache to awful to sleep through, but well
managed with Sudafed, and now I’m so grateful to have spent this
time awake and enjoying the sounds of the breaths of the two most
wonderful men in the world. The bigger of the two of them is facing
away from me; the littler of the two is swaddled and laying inches
away with his sweet face slightly tilted my direction. I am watching
little sleep grins cross his face even as I type. People tell you
that you can’t ever get these moments back, and to enjoy it now;
and I feel the fleetingness as I lay here and sense each moment
whizzing by me. Daniel is 20lbs now. That’s twice his already
massive birth weight. He has outgrown almost every piece of clothing
that we had for him at birth, and I feel all too intensely how near
these irretrievable moments are to over.
POSTED BY EMILIE BROWN AT 8:02 AM
"A New Religion" Sermon Delivered on June 15, 2008 at the Episcopal Church of the Advocate
MONDAY, JUNE 16, 2008In Matthew, Jesus is a complicated man. He is culturally Jewish, teaching in the synagogues. He observes the law. And yet, he has begun a new community, attracting crowds from urban and rural areas, challenging religious and government authority, but offering meaningful community to those who are "helpless and harassed, like sheep without a shepherd." Jesus is a new take on the old, claiming that a kingdom has come near, even if that kingdom looks radically different than expected.
If Matthew's Jesus is about anything, he is about giving those who search for community an experience of God that is both familiar and new at the same time. The encounter between the child Jesus and the Zorastrian wise men of Persia presents a possible foundation for Matthean evangelism through which today's gospel might be interpreted. We're not told what label to put on the wise men after their encounter with Jesus. We're not told that they abandoned Zorastrianism, after all it was their eastern religion that led them to Jesus. We're not led to believe that they became Jewish, or that they started a pre-Christian community. What we do know, is that they left praising God, and that they found in Jesus, another way to travel home.
Earlier this week, I took a trip to South Carolina, to my hometown of Bishopville. Bishopville is an impoverished rural village, about the size of Pittsboro, with a population of predominantly poor African-Americans, and working-class whites, with a dying agrarian economy, and an industrial network mortally wounded by off shoring. Lee County Central High School is a 95% African-American school. More than half of its students are on the free or reduced cost lunch program. White students attend Robert E. Lee Academy, a private school that emerged in the early 1970's. Its sole purpose is resistance to public school integration. This is my hometown.
My trip to Bishopville occurred on Tuesday, which is primary election day in South Carolina. My dad was seeking a 13th term in the South Carolina House of Representatives. I traveled down Highway 15 to Bishopville to offer support to my mom and dad, thinking that his highly contested re-election bid may be closer than in years past. To my surprise, my dad won re-election by a 16 point landslide.
The next morning, I had breakfast with my dad and the Bishopville town elders in the local Hardeez, where anyone with any influence or power gathers to do the hard work of governing. Inevitably, as folks talked about local politics, they began a discussion of religion too.
Just as the First Council of Nicaea tackled and refuted the religious controversy of Arianism (that is, the idea, that the Son is not co-equal nor co-eternal with the Father but rather a created being with divinely inspired powers), so this Hardeez council addressed the cutting edge controversy of the day. And what might this controversy be?
The new Methodist pastor in Bishopville has a Methodist pastor wife. She will pastor the large church in Camden. She will make $100,000 a year - twice as much as he does. She won't live in the Bishopville parsonage at all, and he will split his time between the Bishopville and Camden parsonages. For reasons obvious to all of us here, this is very controversial.
It's hard to believe sometimes that my community-of-origin and my adopted home of Chapel Hill lie on the same highway. It's true. If you follow Highway 15 south from Chapel Hill, eventually the road will become Main Street Bishopville. The infrastructure of the two towns, are connected, if only slightly; and the cultures are worlds apart.
Over the years, I've struggled to make sense of my home-state. I even toyed with the idea of returning there to “make a difference” in communities like the one from which I came.
It turns out, I'm not alone.
I read a study this week called “A New Generation of Southerners: Youth Organizing in the South." It said that a growing number of young adults (and I suspect the young at heart as well) find themselves torn between the decision to live in progressive, opportunity-rich hubs like Chapel Hill, and a guilt inspired yen to redeem the rural South. We yearn for, and often work for, what this author called a "New South"—a South exorcised of its slavery, oppression, defiance, and hostility to social change. Since the late nineteenth century, politicians, business leaders, and others have used the idea of the New South to to transform the Old South—with its entrenched poverty, conservative politics, exploited labor, racial segregation, and use of faith or rather, the language of faith, to keep minds closed and hearts from loving one another.
Young people and their allies to this day struggle against this Old South legacy. But they are also heirs to a legacy of bold resistance, strong cultural identities, community bonds, and place-based allegiances.
Across America, people are beginning to organize around "youth" as a unique political identity and a foundation for participating in a broader social justice movement. The South is no exception. Yet at the very moment in which a new cadre of leaders is urgently needed, the South's dismal public education system, its limited economic opportunities, and the entrenched poverty of the Black Belt, inner cities, Appalachia, and Rio Grande region have spurred an exodus of young people, especially Blacks, out of the South in search of better opportunities.
This study speaks to the contemporary experience of young adults in the south, but I dare say may baby boomers share this path.
I can't speak for my 20 and 30 something peers here at ECOTA. But I am a part of this mass exodus from the Old South. Chapel Hill is overflowing with folks like me - in search that new south. Where our children can learn tolerance and compassion, innocent of rigid, fear-based reductions of reality. Like the Israelites ran from Egypt, people from the deeper south come here seeking the Promised Land.
As we flee the Old South Ways, it’s really not surprising that so many of us also flee what we knew of God.
Most of us are well educated, young professionals, who have exposed themselves to world travel and cross-cultural immersion.
Religion tends not to be high on the list of priorities.-at least, not the religion of our parents.
But these adults don’t practice the religion of their parents.
Gone are the days when going to church was a virtue in-and-of itself. Today, the virtue is in not being a part of a formal institution. Research indicates that association with a denomination has less meaning today than every before. The virtue is in sharing relationships that plug them into something beyond themselves.
This thesis is echoed by Father Kirk Hadaway, Director of Research for the Episcopal Church. In an article on church attendance in America, Father Hadaway said, "If it's not uplifting, interesting, provoking ... it's perfectly acceptable in American society to not go [to church] anymore". "Churches that are providing a more uplifting worship experience and community are those that are growing. And those that do it well are not typical anymore."
However, just because many Americans (young and old alike) aren't attending church doesn't mean that they don't long for meaningful spirituality and community.
In January 2007, National Public Radio correspondent Judy Woodruff shined the media spotlight on this exodus from church in her piece entitled, "Experiencing Other Faiths to Find One's Own." This story features Gillian Siple, a Davidson college senior who describes herself as "spiritual." Siple spent the past year traveling and studying in Asia and Europe, immersing herself in religions other than her own.
Amid an abundance of information about religion easily available via the Internet and television, she says, "maybe the youth of today aren't sure if the way of their parents is perhaps the way that they want to follow, and I think that's wonderful."
With a small group of students, Siple, a religion major, lived in China, Thailand and India. She meditated in monasteries and ashrams, lived and studied among Buddhists, Muslims, Hindus — not your typical study-abroad program.
She remembers living at a meditation center in Thailand, wearing the traditional garb of a yogi. "I remember waking up at 4 o'clock in the morning and taking out my mat and I can remember just thinking, 'What if my friends saw me now? Would anyone recognize me? I am so far from the person and the life that I live back at Davidson right now. There's no remnant of that life on my body right now.'"
Even her faith began to fall away. She says that when she mediated, she felt an uncommon sense of peace. She wondered: Have I gone into this too deeply? Am I still a Christian, or am I becoming something else?
But back at Davidson College, she returned to the faith she knows best: Christianity. That faith is stronger now, she says. She attends prayer and fellowship meetings and heads an interfaith group on campus. She also meditates based on the teaching she learned in Thailand.
Siple calls herself a Christian pluralist, open to the possibility of the validity of other religious traditions.
After her tour of Asia, she spent a week at the Taize monastery in France, a place that attracts young people from around the world. In a Taize service, there is chanting and reading from scripture. But there are also long moments where more than 1,000 young adults sit quietly together in silence — not being told what to do.
"You do what you feel is right for your religious practice," Siple says. "I think that is what our generation is screaming for right now. People want not to be told what they should do, but to figure it out for themselves." It could be said that Gillian, like the Zorastian kings, met Jesus in Thailand and found a new way home.
To this point, I've been guessing that Chapel Hill is largely comprised of young adults like Gillian Siple. To be on the safe side, I did some research. According to Fizber.com, of the approximately 50,000 people in Chapel Hill, 30.4% consider themselves religious. The breakdown of this 30.4% is not surprising, 22% Protestant, 7% Methodist, 8% Baptist, 6% Roman Catholic, 2% Presbyterian, 2% Episcopalian. Interestingly enough, the Jewish population was listed as 0%, which we know isn't true. So much for statistics.
The point of all this is that ECOTA lives in the middle of the New South, surrounded by a community that is 70% "non religious" with young adults who are looking for community and spirituality, but may or may not be able to call themselves Christian (at least not in the way that our parents defined the word).
So to bring this reflection to a close, I searched for a quote from Presiding Bishop SHory, hoping that she might have offered a reflection or statement on the role of the Episcopal Church in our ever changing society. I didn't find such a quote, but to my delight, I found a number of more conservative voices in the Episcopal Church who were arguing that Bishop Katherine is not, in fact, a Christian.
Now, I've met Bishop Shory, and know this not to be true. However, given the needs of young adults in Chapel Hill, this label (intended to insult) could be a complement.
Our presiding bishop is a faithful follower of Jesus, the same Jesus who challenged conventional notions of religion, and yet utilized his culture and tradition to create community inclusive of all. Our Advocate community embodies Jesus’ witness.
The Advocate lives in the richness of the Anglican tradition, yet attracts persons of all faith backgrounds including persons ordained in the Methodist, UCC and Baptist traditions. There are lay people here from Lutheran, Roman Catholic, Presbyterian, Latter Day Saints, Quaker, non-denominational, agnostic and atheist backgrounds.
We embrace the witness of scripture and tradition, but seek dialogue with our surrounding community through “Theology on Deck.” Our roots live deep within the soil of the past, but our branches stretch out to give safe haven to those to who have been rejected or wounded by the church.
When I moved to Chapel Hill in 2004, I was in recovery from divorce and five tumultuous years of parish ministry that took me to the brink of atheism. When I first came to ECOTA, I had difficulty calling myself a Christian. Here, I met my wife, and developed friendships that restored and nurtured my faith.
Like Gillian Sible and the Zorastian kings, I met Jesus here, in all of you, and found a new way home.
There are many in Chapel Hill who desire to integrate where they’ve been with where they are going. We are a community who offers this opportunity. We are a highway that runs out of the “Old South” into the new. As we discern the future of our community, foremost in our mind should be the journey of those who may hear of us, the experience of those who think church is the last thing that they need, and the yearning of those whose background may reveal Jesus to us in ways that we cannot yet anticipate. Amen
If Matthew's Jesus is about anything, he is about giving those who search for community an experience of God that is both familiar and new at the same time. The encounter between the child Jesus and the Zorastrian wise men of Persia presents a possible foundation for Matthean evangelism through which today's gospel might be interpreted. We're not told what label to put on the wise men after their encounter with Jesus. We're not told that they abandoned Zorastrianism, after all it was their eastern religion that led them to Jesus. We're not led to believe that they became Jewish, or that they started a pre-Christian community. What we do know, is that they left praising God, and that they found in Jesus, another way to travel home.
Earlier this week, I took a trip to South Carolina, to my hometown of Bishopville. Bishopville is an impoverished rural village, about the size of Pittsboro, with a population of predominantly poor African-Americans, and working-class whites, with a dying agrarian economy, and an industrial network mortally wounded by off shoring. Lee County Central High School is a 95% African-American school. More than half of its students are on the free or reduced cost lunch program. White students attend Robert E. Lee Academy, a private school that emerged in the early 1970's. Its sole purpose is resistance to public school integration. This is my hometown.
My trip to Bishopville occurred on Tuesday, which is primary election day in South Carolina. My dad was seeking a 13th term in the South Carolina House of Representatives. I traveled down Highway 15 to Bishopville to offer support to my mom and dad, thinking that his highly contested re-election bid may be closer than in years past. To my surprise, my dad won re-election by a 16 point landslide.
The next morning, I had breakfast with my dad and the Bishopville town elders in the local Hardeez, where anyone with any influence or power gathers to do the hard work of governing. Inevitably, as folks talked about local politics, they began a discussion of religion too.
Just as the First Council of Nicaea tackled and refuted the religious controversy of Arianism (that is, the idea, that the Son is not co-equal nor co-eternal with the Father but rather a created being with divinely inspired powers), so this Hardeez council addressed the cutting edge controversy of the day. And what might this controversy be?
The new Methodist pastor in Bishopville has a Methodist pastor wife. She will pastor the large church in Camden. She will make $100,000 a year - twice as much as he does. She won't live in the Bishopville parsonage at all, and he will split his time between the Bishopville and Camden parsonages. For reasons obvious to all of us here, this is very controversial.
It's hard to believe sometimes that my community-of-origin and my adopted home of Chapel Hill lie on the same highway. It's true. If you follow Highway 15 south from Chapel Hill, eventually the road will become Main Street Bishopville. The infrastructure of the two towns, are connected, if only slightly; and the cultures are worlds apart.
Over the years, I've struggled to make sense of my home-state. I even toyed with the idea of returning there to “make a difference” in communities like the one from which I came.
It turns out, I'm not alone.
I read a study this week called “A New Generation of Southerners: Youth Organizing in the South." It said that a growing number of young adults (and I suspect the young at heart as well) find themselves torn between the decision to live in progressive, opportunity-rich hubs like Chapel Hill, and a guilt inspired yen to redeem the rural South. We yearn for, and often work for, what this author called a "New South"—a South exorcised of its slavery, oppression, defiance, and hostility to social change. Since the late nineteenth century, politicians, business leaders, and others have used the idea of the New South to to transform the Old South—with its entrenched poverty, conservative politics, exploited labor, racial segregation, and use of faith or rather, the language of faith, to keep minds closed and hearts from loving one another.
Young people and their allies to this day struggle against this Old South legacy. But they are also heirs to a legacy of bold resistance, strong cultural identities, community bonds, and place-based allegiances.
Across America, people are beginning to organize around "youth" as a unique political identity and a foundation for participating in a broader social justice movement. The South is no exception. Yet at the very moment in which a new cadre of leaders is urgently needed, the South's dismal public education system, its limited economic opportunities, and the entrenched poverty of the Black Belt, inner cities, Appalachia, and Rio Grande region have spurred an exodus of young people, especially Blacks, out of the South in search of better opportunities.
This study speaks to the contemporary experience of young adults in the south, but I dare say may baby boomers share this path.
I can't speak for my 20 and 30 something peers here at ECOTA. But I am a part of this mass exodus from the Old South. Chapel Hill is overflowing with folks like me - in search that new south. Where our children can learn tolerance and compassion, innocent of rigid, fear-based reductions of reality. Like the Israelites ran from Egypt, people from the deeper south come here seeking the Promised Land.
As we flee the Old South Ways, it’s really not surprising that so many of us also flee what we knew of God.
Most of us are well educated, young professionals, who have exposed themselves to world travel and cross-cultural immersion.
Religion tends not to be high on the list of priorities.-at least, not the religion of our parents.
But these adults don’t practice the religion of their parents.
Gone are the days when going to church was a virtue in-and-of itself. Today, the virtue is in not being a part of a formal institution. Research indicates that association with a denomination has less meaning today than every before. The virtue is in sharing relationships that plug them into something beyond themselves.
This thesis is echoed by Father Kirk Hadaway, Director of Research for the Episcopal Church. In an article on church attendance in America, Father Hadaway said, "If it's not uplifting, interesting, provoking ... it's perfectly acceptable in American society to not go [to church] anymore". "Churches that are providing a more uplifting worship experience and community are those that are growing. And those that do it well are not typical anymore."
However, just because many Americans (young and old alike) aren't attending church doesn't mean that they don't long for meaningful spirituality and community.
In January 2007, National Public Radio correspondent Judy Woodruff shined the media spotlight on this exodus from church in her piece entitled, "Experiencing Other Faiths to Find One's Own." This story features Gillian Siple, a Davidson college senior who describes herself as "spiritual." Siple spent the past year traveling and studying in Asia and Europe, immersing herself in religions other than her own.
Amid an abundance of information about religion easily available via the Internet and television, she says, "maybe the youth of today aren't sure if the way of their parents is perhaps the way that they want to follow, and I think that's wonderful."
With a small group of students, Siple, a religion major, lived in China, Thailand and India. She meditated in monasteries and ashrams, lived and studied among Buddhists, Muslims, Hindus — not your typical study-abroad program.
She remembers living at a meditation center in Thailand, wearing the traditional garb of a yogi. "I remember waking up at 4 o'clock in the morning and taking out my mat and I can remember just thinking, 'What if my friends saw me now? Would anyone recognize me? I am so far from the person and the life that I live back at Davidson right now. There's no remnant of that life on my body right now.'"
Even her faith began to fall away. She says that when she mediated, she felt an uncommon sense of peace. She wondered: Have I gone into this too deeply? Am I still a Christian, or am I becoming something else?
But back at Davidson College, she returned to the faith she knows best: Christianity. That faith is stronger now, she says. She attends prayer and fellowship meetings and heads an interfaith group on campus. She also meditates based on the teaching she learned in Thailand.
Siple calls herself a Christian pluralist, open to the possibility of the validity of other religious traditions.
After her tour of Asia, she spent a week at the Taize monastery in France, a place that attracts young people from around the world. In a Taize service, there is chanting and reading from scripture. But there are also long moments where more than 1,000 young adults sit quietly together in silence — not being told what to do.
"You do what you feel is right for your religious practice," Siple says. "I think that is what our generation is screaming for right now. People want not to be told what they should do, but to figure it out for themselves." It could be said that Gillian, like the Zorastian kings, met Jesus in Thailand and found a new way home.
To this point, I've been guessing that Chapel Hill is largely comprised of young adults like Gillian Siple. To be on the safe side, I did some research. According to Fizber.com, of the approximately 50,000 people in Chapel Hill, 30.4% consider themselves religious. The breakdown of this 30.4% is not surprising, 22% Protestant, 7% Methodist, 8% Baptist, 6% Roman Catholic, 2% Presbyterian, 2% Episcopalian. Interestingly enough, the Jewish population was listed as 0%, which we know isn't true. So much for statistics.
The point of all this is that ECOTA lives in the middle of the New South, surrounded by a community that is 70% "non religious" with young adults who are looking for community and spirituality, but may or may not be able to call themselves Christian (at least not in the way that our parents defined the word).
So to bring this reflection to a close, I searched for a quote from Presiding Bishop SHory, hoping that she might have offered a reflection or statement on the role of the Episcopal Church in our ever changing society. I didn't find such a quote, but to my delight, I found a number of more conservative voices in the Episcopal Church who were arguing that Bishop Katherine is not, in fact, a Christian.
Now, I've met Bishop Shory, and know this not to be true. However, given the needs of young adults in Chapel Hill, this label (intended to insult) could be a complement.
Our presiding bishop is a faithful follower of Jesus, the same Jesus who challenged conventional notions of religion, and yet utilized his culture and tradition to create community inclusive of all. Our Advocate community embodies Jesus’ witness.
The Advocate lives in the richness of the Anglican tradition, yet attracts persons of all faith backgrounds including persons ordained in the Methodist, UCC and Baptist traditions. There are lay people here from Lutheran, Roman Catholic, Presbyterian, Latter Day Saints, Quaker, non-denominational, agnostic and atheist backgrounds.
We embrace the witness of scripture and tradition, but seek dialogue with our surrounding community through “Theology on Deck.” Our roots live deep within the soil of the past, but our branches stretch out to give safe haven to those to who have been rejected or wounded by the church.
When I moved to Chapel Hill in 2004, I was in recovery from divorce and five tumultuous years of parish ministry that took me to the brink of atheism. When I first came to ECOTA, I had difficulty calling myself a Christian. Here, I met my wife, and developed friendships that restored and nurtured my faith.
Like Gillian Sible and the Zorastian kings, I met Jesus here, in all of you, and found a new way home.
There are many in Chapel Hill who desire to integrate where they’ve been with where they are going. We are a community who offers this opportunity. We are a highway that runs out of the “Old South” into the new. As we discern the future of our community, foremost in our mind should be the journey of those who may hear of us, the experience of those who think church is the last thing that they need, and the yearning of those whose background may reveal Jesus to us in ways that we cannot yet anticipate. Amen
MONDAY, MAY 19, 2008
Rhett and I were raised in the U.S. – a country founded on the squashing of other cultures. Neither one of us speaks any other language fluently, and we wish we were not the majority in this fact. Alas, a resolution passed by the U.S. Senate in 2005 admitted that only 9.3% of Americans speak both English and another language fluently. That is pretty sad, especially considering that 52.7% of Europeans speak both their own country’s language and another. Usually, surprise-surprise, that second language is English. It’s embarrassing that so many other countries effectively teach multiple languages to their children, and that nothing other than sheer arrogance seems to explain our lack of interest in raising multi-lingual children in the U.S.
From my travels in Japan and Western Europe, I have learned that most Europeans and Asians are taught to speak English. Whether they speak fluently or just functionally, they clearly recognize the importance of interacting with the world outside of their own nation’s borders. What about us? Alas, I’m ashamed to admit that I can’t even speak easily with many of the people who live inside the U.S. borders. The reason is that while average Asians and Europeans are taught English in schools, many people who come to the United States are here because in their native countries, there were no opportunites for education, no jobs, no clean water, or no medical care. Many immigrants were victimized or endangered before they came to the United States, and many more were victimized or endangered en route to this country. These are the people with whom I, as a social worker, need to be able to work. But they don’t speak English, and I don’t speak any language that these immigrants likely speak. I have colleagues at Carolina Outreach with whom I would be better able to communicate if I spoke Spanish; I have numerous clients with whom I work but for whom I cannot advocate effectively or provide adequate therapeutic services because I do not speak Spanish. To be fully competent in the social work profession, I would say it is nearly essential to have a better-than-conversational level of Spanish proficiency.
It isn’t just social workers, either. Business people need to be multi-lingual as well. According to Financial Executive International, “Nearly 85 percent of recruiters in Europe, 88 percent of recruiters in Asia and 95 percent of recruiters in Latin America either "strongly agreed" or "somewhat agreed" that being at least bilingual is critical to succeed in today's business environment. Recruiters everywhere agreed that in 10 years, it will be "more important than today" for executives to be at least bilingual (Europe, 74 percent; Asia, 72 percent; Latin America, 79 percent; North America, 66 percent). They also reported there is a "significant competitive advantage" for executives who are multilingual (speak more than two languages fluently)--Europe, 66 percent; Asia, 52 percent; Latin America, 79 percent; North America, 49 percent.” According to that same article, only 34% of recruiters in North America think that it’s even “somewhat” important to speak more languages than English. I think that’s tragic. Where do we get off thinking that everyone who wants to play must come to our table to do it? Why do we think that it’s “our way or the highway.” The fact that this is empircally true is not an excuse. It’s only empirically true because we’re stubborn and we’ve been bullying other countries with our wealth and military. That’s not a character I want to assume for myself as an American, and I really don’t want to do that to my son. I don’t want to do that to the world as I raise my son.
Kids can learn languages more easily during early childhood, and in fact, can even learn several languages at a time. The exact age that this changes is in question, but most people think it’s ideal to teach additional languages before 5, and agree that until about age 7, kids will absorb whatever they hear, in whatever language. So why so many monolingual kids? Easy. Monolingual parents. Ahh! I don’t want to limit my son’s ability to communicate with people of diverse backgrounds because of my own ignorance.
So, I’ve been researching the issue. Here’s what I’m trying in order to do the best that I can in laying the foundation for Daniel to be able to speak more than one language, and to grow up with a strong understanding of the importance of doing our best to facilitate communication with diverse people.
According to William Staso, Ph.D., it is possible to raise multi-lingual children in the United States, even if one is not one’s self multi-lingual. Here’s what he says: "First, obtain a tape recording of a male and a female speaking the language. The recordings should ideally last about an hour to assure all the language sounds and patterns are being used. Let your baby hear this recording at least once a week over the first 6 months. At or around 6 months you will then need to have a fluent speaker of that language begin to interact verbally with your baby for a couple of hours a week. As your child gets older, he/she will need someone fluent in the second language to speak with in order to develop language capability. You might consider having your child spend a few hours a week at a preschool setting in which that second language is used."
I’ve e-mailed the author with some questions. Specifically, how many languages can we do this with? We think we have access to Spanish, French, and Italian speakers who could interact with Daniel at least once a week. Staso says that exposing kids to multiple languages will usually delay their acquisition of speech, but as long as that doesn’t matter to Daniel, that's okay with us. Also, according to Staso, the EEG's of infants being exposed to auditory stimuli are identical whether the infants are awake or asleep. He cautions against having TV or radio on at a volume baby can hear, unless we want the baby to take in that information. So, if we play the recordings for Daniel while he is sleeping, will he benefit? When is the best time to play them? Also, how loud should we play the recordings? I asked this because in other reading I have come across several sources that state that male infants hear as much as 80% less well than female infants, and that this is likely to be the reason that so many male infants talk much later than most female infants.
All my questions asked and contemplation admitted, I’ll now disclose that I’m actually pretty skeptical about whether this can really work. Can only a few hours of exposure per week really influence a kid that much? But the answer to this question doesn’t matter for a couple of reasons.
1) We aren’t going to use recordings at any time to substitute for our own loving, engaged interaction;
2) Even if he doesn’t learn any actual language from the exposure, hopefully he’ll thoroughly soak in the diversity of sounds that exist outside of English, and will be more comfortable and enthusiastic when he begins his formal study of non-native languages in the future; and
3) We don’t have any other way of giving him a shot at learning other languages at this stage of his life. How sad is that?
POSTED BY EMILIE BROWN AT 6:11 PM
3 COMMENTS:
Kerry said...
Don't feel bad - from what I hear from Turks whose kids were raised here, it's hard even one one or both parents do speak another language. Imagine your kids not being able to speak to their grandparents! It's tough to make them want to learn when all their friends speak only English.
MAY 21, 2008 11:47 AM
Robin Lettuce Stack said...
Come to Guatemala and learn Spanish! Sorry, shameless pitch.
MAY 23, 2008 6:13 PM
Em said...
William Staso's e-mail response to my questions re: teaching Daniel multiple languages: http://randomparentingideas.blogspot.com/2008/05/regarding-helping-your-son-learn.html
MAY 24, 2008 1:18 PM
From my travels in Japan and Western Europe, I have learned that most Europeans and Asians are taught to speak English. Whether they speak fluently or just functionally, they clearly recognize the importance of interacting with the world outside of their own nation’s borders. What about us? Alas, I’m ashamed to admit that I can’t even speak easily with many of the people who live inside the U.S. borders. The reason is that while average Asians and Europeans are taught English in schools, many people who come to the United States are here because in their native countries, there were no opportunites for education, no jobs, no clean water, or no medical care. Many immigrants were victimized or endangered before they came to the United States, and many more were victimized or endangered en route to this country. These are the people with whom I, as a social worker, need to be able to work. But they don’t speak English, and I don’t speak any language that these immigrants likely speak. I have colleagues at Carolina Outreach with whom I would be better able to communicate if I spoke Spanish; I have numerous clients with whom I work but for whom I cannot advocate effectively or provide adequate therapeutic services because I do not speak Spanish. To be fully competent in the social work profession, I would say it is nearly essential to have a better-than-conversational level of Spanish proficiency.
It isn’t just social workers, either. Business people need to be multi-lingual as well. According to Financial Executive International, “Nearly 85 percent of recruiters in Europe, 88 percent of recruiters in Asia and 95 percent of recruiters in Latin America either "strongly agreed" or "somewhat agreed" that being at least bilingual is critical to succeed in today's business environment. Recruiters everywhere agreed that in 10 years, it will be "more important than today" for executives to be at least bilingual (Europe, 74 percent; Asia, 72 percent; Latin America, 79 percent; North America, 66 percent). They also reported there is a "significant competitive advantage" for executives who are multilingual (speak more than two languages fluently)--Europe, 66 percent; Asia, 52 percent; Latin America, 79 percent; North America, 49 percent.” According to that same article, only 34% of recruiters in North America think that it’s even “somewhat” important to speak more languages than English. I think that’s tragic. Where do we get off thinking that everyone who wants to play must come to our table to do it? Why do we think that it’s “our way or the highway.” The fact that this is empircally true is not an excuse. It’s only empirically true because we’re stubborn and we’ve been bullying other countries with our wealth and military. That’s not a character I want to assume for myself as an American, and I really don’t want to do that to my son. I don’t want to do that to the world as I raise my son.
Kids can learn languages more easily during early childhood, and in fact, can even learn several languages at a time. The exact age that this changes is in question, but most people think it’s ideal to teach additional languages before 5, and agree that until about age 7, kids will absorb whatever they hear, in whatever language. So why so many monolingual kids? Easy. Monolingual parents. Ahh! I don’t want to limit my son’s ability to communicate with people of diverse backgrounds because of my own ignorance.
So, I’ve been researching the issue. Here’s what I’m trying in order to do the best that I can in laying the foundation for Daniel to be able to speak more than one language, and to grow up with a strong understanding of the importance of doing our best to facilitate communication with diverse people.
According to William Staso, Ph.D., it is possible to raise multi-lingual children in the United States, even if one is not one’s self multi-lingual. Here’s what he says: "First, obtain a tape recording of a male and a female speaking the language. The recordings should ideally last about an hour to assure all the language sounds and patterns are being used. Let your baby hear this recording at least once a week over the first 6 months. At or around 6 months you will then need to have a fluent speaker of that language begin to interact verbally with your baby for a couple of hours a week. As your child gets older, he/she will need someone fluent in the second language to speak with in order to develop language capability. You might consider having your child spend a few hours a week at a preschool setting in which that second language is used."
I’ve e-mailed the author with some questions. Specifically, how many languages can we do this with? We think we have access to Spanish, French, and Italian speakers who could interact with Daniel at least once a week. Staso says that exposing kids to multiple languages will usually delay their acquisition of speech, but as long as that doesn’t matter to Daniel, that's okay with us. Also, according to Staso, the EEG's of infants being exposed to auditory stimuli are identical whether the infants are awake or asleep. He cautions against having TV or radio on at a volume baby can hear, unless we want the baby to take in that information. So, if we play the recordings for Daniel while he is sleeping, will he benefit? When is the best time to play them? Also, how loud should we play the recordings? I asked this because in other reading I have come across several sources that state that male infants hear as much as 80% less well than female infants, and that this is likely to be the reason that so many male infants talk much later than most female infants.
All my questions asked and contemplation admitted, I’ll now disclose that I’m actually pretty skeptical about whether this can really work. Can only a few hours of exposure per week really influence a kid that much? But the answer to this question doesn’t matter for a couple of reasons.
1) We aren’t going to use recordings at any time to substitute for our own loving, engaged interaction;
2) Even if he doesn’t learn any actual language from the exposure, hopefully he’ll thoroughly soak in the diversity of sounds that exist outside of English, and will be more comfortable and enthusiastic when he begins his formal study of non-native languages in the future; and
3) We don’t have any other way of giving him a shot at learning other languages at this stage of his life. How sad is that?
POSTED BY EMILIE BROWN AT 6:11 PM
3 COMMENTS:
Kerry said...
Don't feel bad - from what I hear from Turks whose kids were raised here, it's hard even one one or both parents do speak another language. Imagine your kids not being able to speak to their grandparents! It's tough to make them want to learn when all their friends speak only English.
MAY 21, 2008 11:47 AM
Robin Lettuce Stack said...
Come to Guatemala and learn Spanish! Sorry, shameless pitch.
MAY 23, 2008 6:13 PM
Em said...
William Staso's e-mail response to my questions re: teaching Daniel multiple languages: http://randomparentingideas.blogspot.com/2008/05/regarding-helping-your-son-learn.html
MAY 24, 2008 1:18 PM
Entertaining Baby - Green and On the Cheap - SUNDAY, MAY 25, 2008
Daniel is hitting some kind of developmental milestone or growth spurt, or something. He’s waking at night more (always to eat) and he’s eating and sleeping a lot. He’s been fussy a little more than usual, which still means he’s not fussy much. I’ve been really busy, taking 2 classes at the law school, still working full time, and being Mommie, of course. Studying the tax code . . . I never thought I’d spend a summer doing that. But it’s not as painful as I thought it would be. We’ll see how I do on the exam, of course, but I think I still know what’s going on.
In my few moments of spare time, I’ve been pondering how to make baby and children’s toys using recycled materials from around the house. I am interested in this for Daniel’s benefit, of course, but I also have a client whose family is really stressed by their inability to entertain a 6-month-old and a 5-year-old. They don’t have many toys, and don’t have much money to get toys. I’ve also been reading a bit about Waldorf philosophy of childrearing, and it’s emphasis on handmade toys and toys made of natural materials. With all the recalls and scares about toxic plastic these days, I suspect homemade toys are probably safer. It just seems to me that it must be possible to entertain little folks with recycled stuff. I’m testing that with my own kid and googling quite a bit on the topic.
I’ve been hoarding plastic bottles, boxes from various things, and. I haven’t figured out exactly what I’m going to do with all these, but I’ve started on a few little projects. For instance, I picked up a couple of dowels and am trying to make some version of this:
I’ve started making blocks out of formula cans, paper towel and toilet tissue tubes, and jello, rice, and tea boxes. Obviously, Daniel doesn’t play with blocks yet, but I think this is a good project to teach to some of my low-income families. I’m also considering making this cardboard playhouse and using some adaptation of this project to make toyboxes. I’ve been looking for some ways to teach this mom to nurture her child’s growing interest in letters and reading. This project seems like one way that she might do that now, and that I might do this for Daniel later. If I had a source to get lumber scraps, I’d be all excited about making and painting these wooden blocks.
This is mostly a fun diversion, for now, since Daniel isn’t too into his toys yet and this mom isn’t on board for crafting much. I really should be giving the time to my tax code. But I’d really like to get her on board with crafting, and I really enjoy learning more about low-cost, green parenting.
POSTED BY EMILIE BROWN AT 10:34 AM
In my few moments of spare time, I’ve been pondering how to make baby and children’s toys using recycled materials from around the house. I am interested in this for Daniel’s benefit, of course, but I also have a client whose family is really stressed by their inability to entertain a 6-month-old and a 5-year-old. They don’t have many toys, and don’t have much money to get toys. I’ve also been reading a bit about Waldorf philosophy of childrearing, and it’s emphasis on handmade toys and toys made of natural materials. With all the recalls and scares about toxic plastic these days, I suspect homemade toys are probably safer. It just seems to me that it must be possible to entertain little folks with recycled stuff. I’m testing that with my own kid and googling quite a bit on the topic.
I’ve been hoarding plastic bottles, boxes from various things, and. I haven’t figured out exactly what I’m going to do with all these, but I’ve started on a few little projects. For instance, I picked up a couple of dowels and am trying to make some version of this:
I’ve started making blocks out of formula cans, paper towel and toilet tissue tubes, and jello, rice, and tea boxes. Obviously, Daniel doesn’t play with blocks yet, but I think this is a good project to teach to some of my low-income families. I’m also considering making this cardboard playhouse and using some adaptation of this project to make toyboxes. I’ve been looking for some ways to teach this mom to nurture her child’s growing interest in letters and reading. This project seems like one way that she might do that now, and that I might do this for Daniel later. If I had a source to get lumber scraps, I’d be all excited about making and painting these wooden blocks.
This is mostly a fun diversion, for now, since Daniel isn’t too into his toys yet and this mom isn’t on board for crafting much. I really should be giving the time to my tax code. But I’d really like to get her on board with crafting, and I really enjoy learning more about low-cost, green parenting.
POSTED BY EMILIE BROWN AT 10:34 AM
Dads are Evolving - SUNDAY, MAY 18, 2008 (by Rhett)
Dads are Evolving - SUNDAY, MAY 18, 2008
I am convinced...Dad's are evolving. I learned this first hand this week, as our son Daniel and I spent time together. Many readers will know that PM and I now work for Carolina Outreach, an in-home family therapy company, that allows its social workers to set their own schedule. Carolina Outreach is a great company for which to work, not only because of the meaningful work it does with families, but also because of the flexibility that its social workers have to spend time with their own families.
In our case, this flexibility means that PM and I split childcare responsibilities. When one of us is working with clients, the other is caring for Daniel (while doing paper work or running errands). I spend my time with Daniel making work related phone calls, doing paper work, or running errands for our family. Because Daniel is a serene little guy, I just strap him to my chest using our Mei Tai, and he goes wherever I go.
As you can imagine, Daniel is quite the conversation starter. When folks see him strapped to me, no matter where I am, people inevitably share stories of their children or grandchildren (or their desire to have them).
One such conversation leads me to the subject of this blog post, "Dads are Evolving." Earlier this week, I ran an errand for PM at UNC Student Health. Daniel and I drove to the student health center. Upon arriving, I helped Daniel out of his car seat, strapped him to me, and we began our errand running. As I walked toward the Student Health building, I noticed a larger 18 wheeler parked in front of the building. A man, say about 45, was sitting in the driver's seat. He looked as though he had been up all night, as evidenced by his disheveled hair and scraggly beard. It appeared that he had made several stops, and engaged in some heavy lifting, as his shirt and pants were covered with dried mud. When this "good ole boy" saw me, much to my surprise, he greeted me warmly, with a vibrant smile. He said with a laugh, "you've figured out how to do that pretty well. I need to get me one of those." I shared the vendor of our Mei Tai. He thanked me, and we parted ways.
Is this man an indication of a growing trend in America? Could it be that it is not only "yes we can" Obama liberals who want to be more hands on dads? Could it also be that the so called "working class" who voted for Hillary in droves in West Virginia, and who will do so again in Kentucky this Tuesday, also are ready to strap their kids to their chest while paying bills and running errands. Or even if they can't because of how hard that they have to work, in their heart of hearts, they wish they could.
The story doesn't end here. Later on my errand, I stopped in the Student Health convenience store to get a snack, while waiting on my wife's prescription. The store attendants where women in their early 60's, female representatives of the so called "boomer" generation that gave us Bill and Hillary Clinton and Al and Tipper Gore. These women were quite enchanted by our little munchkin. As I payed for my OJ and power bar, they told stories of their lives. Surprisingly, they told stories of the men in their lives, many of them now grandfathers.
These women all commented on how much their husbands have changed over the years. They lamented the early years of their marriage, when their husbands were loath to wash dishes, run the laundry, or engage in childcare. However, all of them gleefully reported that these same men, now grandparents, have taken an active role in the lives of their grandchildren, boldly braving the often dangerous terrain of poopy diapers and flying spit-up. Being grandpa also means that these men cook and occasionally clean. These women said that this change is at least in part due to the example of their sons and son-in-laws (all of whom are Xers' or Y2k's. After listening to these women's stories, I said, "men are indeed evolving." They all chimed in, "ours sure have."
So, dear friends, let me ask all of you to comment on my thesis "Men are Evolving" Am I right? Are men evolving? Are men becoming more nurturing, more hands on in the domestic sphere, more engaged in the day to day care of their children and grandchildren?
If you are a man, are you ready to strap your kid to yourself in public, and start running errands? Or more generally, do you desire and even need a deeper relationship with your children than was afforded men of generations past?
If you're a man, and you think that my description of masculine evolution has not or should not impact you or any other man, I'd like to hear you as well. Tell me why you are who you are.
If you're a woman reading this blog, and you're partnered with a man, are you ready to give him the same responsibilities for your child's care that have been "traditionally" given to women? If you are, it strikes me that you have a great relationship, with a man that you have grown to trust deeply. However, if you're not ready to trust your man with this responsibility, tell me why, and what it would take for your man to earn this level of trust.
Finally, if you are a same sex couple with children (or one that desires children), I'd love to hear of your dreams and/or experience of parenting. How does your household divide the domestic division of labor?
I look forward to sharing this conversation with readers. It will give this evolving man a great appreciation for the ways in which our beloved readers share life and love together in marriage, partnership, and in the raising of children.
POSTED BY WORK IN PROGRESS AT 8:29 PM
I am convinced...Dad's are evolving. I learned this first hand this week, as our son Daniel and I spent time together. Many readers will know that PM and I now work for Carolina Outreach, an in-home family therapy company, that allows its social workers to set their own schedule. Carolina Outreach is a great company for which to work, not only because of the meaningful work it does with families, but also because of the flexibility that its social workers have to spend time with their own families.
In our case, this flexibility means that PM and I split childcare responsibilities. When one of us is working with clients, the other is caring for Daniel (while doing paper work or running errands). I spend my time with Daniel making work related phone calls, doing paper work, or running errands for our family. Because Daniel is a serene little guy, I just strap him to my chest using our Mei Tai, and he goes wherever I go.
As you can imagine, Daniel is quite the conversation starter. When folks see him strapped to me, no matter where I am, people inevitably share stories of their children or grandchildren (or their desire to have them).
One such conversation leads me to the subject of this blog post, "Dads are Evolving." Earlier this week, I ran an errand for PM at UNC Student Health. Daniel and I drove to the student health center. Upon arriving, I helped Daniel out of his car seat, strapped him to me, and we began our errand running. As I walked toward the Student Health building, I noticed a larger 18 wheeler parked in front of the building. A man, say about 45, was sitting in the driver's seat. He looked as though he had been up all night, as evidenced by his disheveled hair and scraggly beard. It appeared that he had made several stops, and engaged in some heavy lifting, as his shirt and pants were covered with dried mud. When this "good ole boy" saw me, much to my surprise, he greeted me warmly, with a vibrant smile. He said with a laugh, "you've figured out how to do that pretty well. I need to get me one of those." I shared the vendor of our Mei Tai. He thanked me, and we parted ways.
Is this man an indication of a growing trend in America? Could it be that it is not only "yes we can" Obama liberals who want to be more hands on dads? Could it also be that the so called "working class" who voted for Hillary in droves in West Virginia, and who will do so again in Kentucky this Tuesday, also are ready to strap their kids to their chest while paying bills and running errands. Or even if they can't because of how hard that they have to work, in their heart of hearts, they wish they could.
The story doesn't end here. Later on my errand, I stopped in the Student Health convenience store to get a snack, while waiting on my wife's prescription. The store attendants where women in their early 60's, female representatives of the so called "boomer" generation that gave us Bill and Hillary Clinton and Al and Tipper Gore. These women were quite enchanted by our little munchkin. As I payed for my OJ and power bar, they told stories of their lives. Surprisingly, they told stories of the men in their lives, many of them now grandfathers.
These women all commented on how much their husbands have changed over the years. They lamented the early years of their marriage, when their husbands were loath to wash dishes, run the laundry, or engage in childcare. However, all of them gleefully reported that these same men, now grandparents, have taken an active role in the lives of their grandchildren, boldly braving the often dangerous terrain of poopy diapers and flying spit-up. Being grandpa also means that these men cook and occasionally clean. These women said that this change is at least in part due to the example of their sons and son-in-laws (all of whom are Xers' or Y2k's. After listening to these women's stories, I said, "men are indeed evolving." They all chimed in, "ours sure have."
So, dear friends, let me ask all of you to comment on my thesis "Men are Evolving" Am I right? Are men evolving? Are men becoming more nurturing, more hands on in the domestic sphere, more engaged in the day to day care of their children and grandchildren?
If you are a man, are you ready to strap your kid to yourself in public, and start running errands? Or more generally, do you desire and even need a deeper relationship with your children than was afforded men of generations past?
If you're a man, and you think that my description of masculine evolution has not or should not impact you or any other man, I'd like to hear you as well. Tell me why you are who you are.
If you're a woman reading this blog, and you're partnered with a man, are you ready to give him the same responsibilities for your child's care that have been "traditionally" given to women? If you are, it strikes me that you have a great relationship, with a man that you have grown to trust deeply. However, if you're not ready to trust your man with this responsibility, tell me why, and what it would take for your man to earn this level of trust.
Finally, if you are a same sex couple with children (or one that desires children), I'd love to hear of your dreams and/or experience of parenting. How does your household divide the domestic division of labor?
I look forward to sharing this conversation with readers. It will give this evolving man a great appreciation for the ways in which our beloved readers share life and love together in marriage, partnership, and in the raising of children.
POSTED BY WORK IN PROGRESS AT 8:29 PM
The Sacrament of Friendship
The Sacrament of Friendship
I'm grateful! But not just grateful in that generalized way that I sometimes get. When I've just seen a movie that inspires me (like Remember the Titans or Philadelphia), I am grateful to be alive. When I listen to a great speech, read a great article, or enjoy really good ice cream in a fresh and crunchy waffle cone (like I enjoyed last night from the Yogurt Pump), I am grateful. This gratitude is a warm feeling that comes over me when I am reminded that life is good generally speaking that is ;)
This week, I'm grateful for the particulars of my life because of the specific personal experience of being sick. I'm grateful to be healthy. I'm grateful to be at home. I'm grateful for friends. Most importantly, I'm grateful for my wife, the love of my life, my "baby momma", the more prolific blogger, Em.
Those who know me well can attest that I often tell anyone who will listen that I am "the luckiest man alive." I proclaim my good fortune because of my wife. She's the best thing that ever happened to me. That's always true, generally speaking. But after being sick, and I mean really sick (with the dreaded Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever), for six days last week, I am grateful for Em in a more particular way. Here's why I'm so grateful.
When I came home from work ten days ago, aching all over, burning up with fever, feeling as though the world was spinning, and clueless as to what was wrong with me, Em took action. She took my temperature, and gave me Tylenol. She consulted WEB MD regarding my symptoms. She called in reinforcements by way of the CVS pharmacist, and the UNC Health Line. Before I knew it, I was in the car, and she was driving me to the ER (all while setting up childcare for our son). She stayed with me in the ER, facing her significant fear of needles, as various medical personnel poked and stuck me for hours on end with one sharp foreign object after another. She hung around during the spinal tap (administered for the purpose of ruling out meningitis).
Spinal taps are very unpleasant.
When I went home, and my symptoms worsened, she took me back to the ER, and stayed with me through the night until the doctors admitted me to the hospital. Upon my discharge from the hospital, she assumed (with the help of friends) all childcare responsibilities while I recovered.
Yes, dear friends, I am the luckiest man alive. I am married to the love of my life, who was there for me this week "in sickness" just as she has been "in health."
This week reminds me of why the church has for two millennia attributed sacramental meaning to marriage. That is, in some mysterious way, the care that two persons give one another through the discipline of practicing their marriage vows is iconic, that is a window into the mysterious life of God. The life of God is often described through the metaphor of Trinity; a concept on which I cannot easily elaborate with any brevity.
There are many anthropomorphic metaphors used to describe the Trinity. Some of them are more helpful that others, depending on one's point of view. Naming them all here would not be helpful or very interesting.
For the purpose of this blog entry, let me summarize this theologian's Trinitarian theology by saying this: it is God's nature to be in relationship.
When I think about God's love for me, it is very difficult to separate my experience of God's love from the love I experience through intimate relationships, like that of my life partner, my family, and close friends. This is no doubt why I chose to describe the mystery of the Trinity as I did.
Reflecting on this week, it strikes me that while marriage or partnership is a powerful icon, it is not only the love between married partners that points us God-ward. No two individuals can maintain the discipline of sacrificial love alone. As my father-in-law asserted at our wedding, "it takes a community as well as a couple to make a marriage."
Thus, one could argue, that not only is marriage a sacrament. Indeed, more broadly, friendship is a sacrament. All seven sacraments (Baptism, Eucharist, Matrimony, Confirmation, Ordination, Reconciliation, Unction (or healing) have friendship with God and humanity at their core. None of them take place in vacuum. All of them require relationship, or to put it more positively, all of the sacraments offer the gift of sharing life with others.
This past week would have been close to impossible were it not for the many friends that helped Em and me practice our vows. So many friends offered their support, opened their home to our son, and offered to give their time to us for whatever need might arise.
I did not plan on getting sick last week. It was very unpleasant. I would not sign up for it again, nor would I wish it on my worst enemy. But all in all, I am thankful for the experience because through it I was reminded that God loves me, that I am not alone in the living of life, that my life partner is the greatest gift for which I am very grateful, and that I have many wonderful friends.
It could be that one can get through just about anything if one has good friends.
POSTED BY WORK IN PROGRESS AT 9:29 PM
1 COMMENTS:
Robin Lettuce Stack said...
You are such an inspiration. I hope both of you keep writing because you have a way about you that puts me into a reverie.
I'm grateful! But not just grateful in that generalized way that I sometimes get. When I've just seen a movie that inspires me (like Remember the Titans or Philadelphia), I am grateful to be alive. When I listen to a great speech, read a great article, or enjoy really good ice cream in a fresh and crunchy waffle cone (like I enjoyed last night from the Yogurt Pump), I am grateful. This gratitude is a warm feeling that comes over me when I am reminded that life is good generally speaking that is ;)
This week, I'm grateful for the particulars of my life because of the specific personal experience of being sick. I'm grateful to be healthy. I'm grateful to be at home. I'm grateful for friends. Most importantly, I'm grateful for my wife, the love of my life, my "baby momma", the more prolific blogger, Em.
Those who know me well can attest that I often tell anyone who will listen that I am "the luckiest man alive." I proclaim my good fortune because of my wife. She's the best thing that ever happened to me. That's always true, generally speaking. But after being sick, and I mean really sick (with the dreaded Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever), for six days last week, I am grateful for Em in a more particular way. Here's why I'm so grateful.
When I came home from work ten days ago, aching all over, burning up with fever, feeling as though the world was spinning, and clueless as to what was wrong with me, Em took action. She took my temperature, and gave me Tylenol. She consulted WEB MD regarding my symptoms. She called in reinforcements by way of the CVS pharmacist, and the UNC Health Line. Before I knew it, I was in the car, and she was driving me to the ER (all while setting up childcare for our son). She stayed with me in the ER, facing her significant fear of needles, as various medical personnel poked and stuck me for hours on end with one sharp foreign object after another. She hung around during the spinal tap (administered for the purpose of ruling out meningitis).
Spinal taps are very unpleasant.
When I went home, and my symptoms worsened, she took me back to the ER, and stayed with me through the night until the doctors admitted me to the hospital. Upon my discharge from the hospital, she assumed (with the help of friends) all childcare responsibilities while I recovered.
Yes, dear friends, I am the luckiest man alive. I am married to the love of my life, who was there for me this week "in sickness" just as she has been "in health."
This week reminds me of why the church has for two millennia attributed sacramental meaning to marriage. That is, in some mysterious way, the care that two persons give one another through the discipline of practicing their marriage vows is iconic, that is a window into the mysterious life of God. The life of God is often described through the metaphor of Trinity; a concept on which I cannot easily elaborate with any brevity.
There are many anthropomorphic metaphors used to describe the Trinity. Some of them are more helpful that others, depending on one's point of view. Naming them all here would not be helpful or very interesting.
For the purpose of this blog entry, let me summarize this theologian's Trinitarian theology by saying this: it is God's nature to be in relationship.
When I think about God's love for me, it is very difficult to separate my experience of God's love from the love I experience through intimate relationships, like that of my life partner, my family, and close friends. This is no doubt why I chose to describe the mystery of the Trinity as I did.
Reflecting on this week, it strikes me that while marriage or partnership is a powerful icon, it is not only the love between married partners that points us God-ward. No two individuals can maintain the discipline of sacrificial love alone. As my father-in-law asserted at our wedding, "it takes a community as well as a couple to make a marriage."
Thus, one could argue, that not only is marriage a sacrament. Indeed, more broadly, friendship is a sacrament. All seven sacraments (Baptism, Eucharist, Matrimony, Confirmation, Ordination, Reconciliation, Unction (or healing) have friendship with God and humanity at their core. None of them take place in vacuum. All of them require relationship, or to put it more positively, all of the sacraments offer the gift of sharing life with others.
This past week would have been close to impossible were it not for the many friends that helped Em and me practice our vows. So many friends offered their support, opened their home to our son, and offered to give their time to us for whatever need might arise.
I did not plan on getting sick last week. It was very unpleasant. I would not sign up for it again, nor would I wish it on my worst enemy. But all in all, I am thankful for the experience because through it I was reminded that God loves me, that I am not alone in the living of life, that my life partner is the greatest gift for which I am very grateful, and that I have many wonderful friends.
It could be that one can get through just about anything if one has good friends.
POSTED BY WORK IN PROGRESS AT 9:29 PM
1 COMMENTS:
Robin Lettuce Stack said...
You are such an inspiration. I hope both of you keep writing because you have a way about you that puts me into a reverie.
DC Deafie is in town! - SATURDAY, MAY 10, 2008
My dear friend, DC Deafie came down to see us this weekend. How splendid!
It’s been three years since we last saw her. I met DC Deafie when we were both involved in a production of Children of a Lesser God at Raleigh Little Theater. I played Lydia, and I needed to learn to speak in a deaf voice. DC Deafie patiently taught me to imitate her distinctly deaf voice with clear, crisp diction. I was volunteering as an ESL teacher at the time, and on Friday night shows, after meeting with my ESL student, my voice always morphed into a garbled Korean accent. But that wasn’t DC Deafie’s fault. She was a great teacher.
When I moved to Chapel Hill for social work school, DC Deafie and I stayed connected and hung out a lot. She was my first friend in this town that I now lovingly call my home. She, on the other hand, has moved on to bigger and better things. She lives in Maryland and works in D.C. (hence, the DC part of her blogger name). She’s crazy busy and to make it onto her calendar is a rare treat, as well as an honor.
We’ve had a great time visiting all of her (and our) old haunts. I’d forgotten how much I love Bandido’s on Franklin Street and how comfortable those leather chairs are at the Caribou next to the Yogurt Shoppe. We also took Daniel out for a walk on this gorgeous, sunny day. We’re getting into UV eye protection for the little guy, on top of my neurotic avoidance of excessive sun exposure on his skin and a heightened new madness about bug spray. See his cute shades?
Have I mentioned yet that my kid loves her? She coos and goos at him like a pro, and he is mesmerized by her smile.
He’s flirting with her shamelessly. And she’s been giving him lecture after lecture (some spoken, some signed) about the virtues of not spitting up the expensive formula. A good influence to boot! He’s peed on her once and spit up on her a whole lot more than that, and by some miracle she’s still here. What a pal! Based on the list of people that Daniel has chosen to pee or spit-up on, I am pretty sure those are gestures of affection. What a lovely weekend this is!
POSTED BY EMILIE BROWN AT 11:58 PM
3 COMMENTS:
DC Deafie said...
Awww. I wuv you too! Not just Daniel!
MAY 11, 2008 1:09 PM
DC Deafie said...
Oh, and by the way...not to be picky, but it's called the "Yogurt Pump."
:)
MAY 11, 2008 1:31 PM
wtsmom said...
HAPPY MOMMY DAY!!!
MAY 11, 2008 4:15 PM
When I moved to Chapel Hill for social work school, DC Deafie and I stayed connected and hung out a lot. She was my first friend in this town that I now lovingly call my home. She, on the other hand, has moved on to bigger and better things. She lives in Maryland and works in D.C. (hence, the DC part of her blogger name). She’s crazy busy and to make it onto her calendar is a rare treat, as well as an honor.
We’ve had a great time visiting all of her (and our) old haunts. I’d forgotten how much I love Bandido’s on Franklin Street and how comfortable those leather chairs are at the Caribou next to the Yogurt Shoppe. We also took Daniel out for a walk on this gorgeous, sunny day. We’re getting into UV eye protection for the little guy, on top of my neurotic avoidance of excessive sun exposure on his skin and a heightened new madness about bug spray. See his cute shades?
Have I mentioned yet that my kid loves her? She coos and goos at him like a pro, and he is mesmerized by her smile.
He’s flirting with her shamelessly. And she’s been giving him lecture after lecture (some spoken, some signed) about the virtues of not spitting up the expensive formula. A good influence to boot! He’s peed on her once and spit up on her a whole lot more than that, and by some miracle she’s still here. What a pal! Based on the list of people that Daniel has chosen to pee or spit-up on, I am pretty sure those are gestures of affection. What a lovely weekend this is!
POSTED BY EMILIE BROWN AT 11:58 PM
3 COMMENTS:
DC Deafie said...
Awww. I wuv you too! Not just Daniel!
MAY 11, 2008 1:09 PM
DC Deafie said...
Oh, and by the way...not to be picky, but it's called the "Yogurt Pump."
:)
MAY 11, 2008 1:31 PM
wtsmom said...
HAPPY MOMMY DAY!!!
MAY 11, 2008 4:15 PM
Returning to Normal & Three Random Things - FRIDAY, MAY 9, 2008
Returning to normal hardly seems like it should be among the difficult things about getting sick, but then again, it hardly seems like getting sick should happen at all. So there goes logic. Anyway, Rhett has recovered remarkably well and although he’s taking until next Monday to start seeing clients again, he’s been very much himself today and looks forward to doing a bit of phone and paper work tomorrow. God and antibiotics are so good!
So, Mya of Ruminations tagged me to share three random things about myself, which is lovely since it’s 1:14am and I have a bit of insomnia. Nothing like going on about myself to put me to sleep (or you, who knows?). So here goes:
1) I’ve mentioned this one before, but it never fails to shock people. I don’t eat vegetables. There are a few exceptions, but they are rare and unpredictable. I realize that according to medicine and science and all that, this is less than healthy, but I’m quite healthy and very happy as long as I’m not beating myself up about the fact that I don’t eat vegetables. (And, since I have given myself permission not to eat them, I’ve become more adventurous about trying them from time to time when people aren’t looking J)
2) I read constantly about parenting – absolutely constantly. I love that I now have a job where I sometimes get paid for reading about parenting. I am fascinated by the topic. I’m interested in how to raise both boys and girls, even though I only have a boy; I’m interested in how to raise kids with special needs, how to raise kids if you’re a single parent or older parent or adoptive parent or step-parent. I’m amazed by how the things parents do or don’t do, believe or don’t believe, say or don’t say, and how parents do, believe, or say them, all impact kids. I can’t promise that I’m a super-mom or anything. I’m definitely not. But at least I can cite three different experts on why what I’m doing/saying/believing is or is not harmful to my kid, and when there’s any dispute on the matter. By the way, Wendy Mogel, Ph.D. says that by being less than a super-mom, I’m doing great. I think I believe that. My kid is doing well by every measure I’m aware of.
3) I have an uncommon belief in the importance of incorporating extended family members (even irritating or pathological extended family members) into big life events. I’m convinced that marriage is easier, parenting is stronger, and obstacles are more manageable when we are intentionally allied with our families around those big, identity-shaping moments. The more I talk with people my own age, particularly in the marrying and baby-making phases of life, the more I realize that this is not a commonly held belief.
So now you know a little more about me, or maybe you already knew all that, but I just cured your insomnia. Either way, seems like a good thing to me. Maybe I just cured my insomnia too. Also good. But before I head off for some zzzzz’s, I get to tag three people. Yay!!! Okay, it’s your turn MamaPajama, Caroline, and Robin Lettuce Stack.
POSTED BY EMILIE BROWN AT 1:34 AM
So, Mya of Ruminations tagged me to share three random things about myself, which is lovely since it’s 1:14am and I have a bit of insomnia. Nothing like going on about myself to put me to sleep (or you, who knows?). So here goes:
1) I’ve mentioned this one before, but it never fails to shock people. I don’t eat vegetables. There are a few exceptions, but they are rare and unpredictable. I realize that according to medicine and science and all that, this is less than healthy, but I’m quite healthy and very happy as long as I’m not beating myself up about the fact that I don’t eat vegetables. (And, since I have given myself permission not to eat them, I’ve become more adventurous about trying them from time to time when people aren’t looking J)
2) I read constantly about parenting – absolutely constantly. I love that I now have a job where I sometimes get paid for reading about parenting. I am fascinated by the topic. I’m interested in how to raise both boys and girls, even though I only have a boy; I’m interested in how to raise kids with special needs, how to raise kids if you’re a single parent or older parent or adoptive parent or step-parent. I’m amazed by how the things parents do or don’t do, believe or don’t believe, say or don’t say, and how parents do, believe, or say them, all impact kids. I can’t promise that I’m a super-mom or anything. I’m definitely not. But at least I can cite three different experts on why what I’m doing/saying/believing is or is not harmful to my kid, and when there’s any dispute on the matter. By the way, Wendy Mogel, Ph.D. says that by being less than a super-mom, I’m doing great. I think I believe that. My kid is doing well by every measure I’m aware of.
3) I have an uncommon belief in the importance of incorporating extended family members (even irritating or pathological extended family members) into big life events. I’m convinced that marriage is easier, parenting is stronger, and obstacles are more manageable when we are intentionally allied with our families around those big, identity-shaping moments. The more I talk with people my own age, particularly in the marrying and baby-making phases of life, the more I realize that this is not a commonly held belief.
So now you know a little more about me, or maybe you already knew all that, but I just cured your insomnia. Either way, seems like a good thing to me. Maybe I just cured my insomnia too. Also good. But before I head off for some zzzzz’s, I get to tag three people. Yay!!! Okay, it’s your turn MamaPajama, Caroline, and Robin Lettuce Stack.
POSTED BY EMILIE BROWN AT 1:34 AM
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