Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Would you like a peach with that?

So, I was talking to my sister today to get the latest "Hannah-story." She has the funniest granddaughter in the world...seriously, the girl is hysterical.

Okay...so funny Hannah story. Judy calls Hannah and they are discussing Halloween. Judy is trying to convince Hannah to give her all of the candy that Hannah doesn't like from when she goes out Trick or Treating. After they get done with that discussion, Hannah says, "Nini, do you want to buy some cookies from me?"

Judy, aka Nini, says, "Sure. What kind do you have?"

Hannah says, "Peanut butter and chocolate chip."

Nini says, "I will take one of each."

Hannah announces to her mom, "Nini wants PEACH."

Nini says, "No, Hannah....I want ONE OF EACH."

Hannah says, "Nini wants peach."

Judy can hear Hannah's mom in the background saying, "We don't have peach."

Judy says, "Hannah, just give me one peanut butter and one chocolate chip."

Hannah tells her mom, "Okay, now Nini wants a peanut butter and a chocolate chip. She doesn't want peach anymore."

That's why McDonald's doesn't have a 4 year old running the drive-thru.

Monday, October 26, 2009

Beware of frolicking


So, today I got a phone call from a male co-worker. He was out deer hunting. He called to let me know he had just killed a deer.

I asked, "So, did you get a big buck?"

He responded, "No, it was just a doe. As a matter of fact, I'm a little embarrassed to tell you what happened."

"Come on...what happened?" I asked.

He began the story, "Well, I was up in my tree stand and two small doe came along and began to play under me. Then a big buck, I mean a monster, came down over the hill to be with the doe. Well, I put my cross hair on him and pulled the trigger. Problem was, I hadn't taken the safety off. By the time I did that, the buck heard me and took off."

"Oh, that stinks," I pipe in.

"Well," he said, "I was so mad, I put the cross hair on the doe and killed her."

There you have it....a glimpse into my world. How many times have I just been frolicking in a field....minding my own business....when suddenly a big male ego enters my field and next thing I know.....I get shot in the butt!

Thursday, October 22, 2009

A formula to perfection

So, today I went to chapel. A couple from Thailand led us in a traditional Thai worship service.

It was a beautiful service. The music and songs and dance were all beautiful. As they played their music and taught us how to dance and sing before the Lord....I realized how very stiff and starched we are here in North America. We looked nothing like them....they flowed with grace and beauty, much like watching a butterfly float through the air....and then there was us...

We clunked along...moving our hands and bodies as if they weighed 100 lbs and our joints did not move in a fluid motion. We looked more like a robot.

They allow their bodies to feel the music...becoming one with the music...an extension of it, flowing out of it. We on the other hand are trying to listen to the music and calculate moves to the music.

I have children and I have watched every episode of SpongeBob Squarepants that has ever been created. There is one episode that sums up what I saw today....this is what SpongeBob usually looks like:

He has bumps and holes, not at all perfect...

But one day he decides he is too different, and he decides to become normal....and so, instead of being his different self, he works to be "normal.' Soon, his appearance begins to change to match his actions....bland and boring. Here is what his appearance changes to:

He is smooth and perfect...

I feel like we in North America have worked very hard to become "normal" in our worship....not wanting to be different or allow ourselves to "feel" anything. No, we have a calculation and a formula for "perfect, normal" worship. And so....we trudge along and soon...our worship begins to look like "normal SpongeBob."

Friday, October 16, 2009

Smell that smell

So, one of my co-workers got a brand new car. I mean a brand new...made yesterday....pulled out of the factory right into the dealership and then picked up by my co-worker, new car.

It is bright and shiny and beautiful....it has that wonderful aroma that can not be duplicated or bottled....the NEW CAR SMELL. It is an amazing smell...I love that smell. I love to look at brand new cars....dreaming of calling it my own....dreaming of opening the door and being greeted by that smell.

So, I was looking at this new car and wishing I could open the door. Suddenly I realized how privileged I am. Why? Because I begin to think about the people of the world who are starving today. I am dreaming of smelling a new car...and there are people in the world who are dreaming of smelling food, a smell of nourishment and sustenance...

They are not worried about how a shiny new car might smell....the smell of privilege....they pray to smell food....the smell of life.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Put away the Nair

So, today I heard the MOST interesting thing. A study performed by the American Mustache Institute (yes....there really is an institute for the American mustache) revealed that mustachioed men make more than their bearded and clean-shaven compatriots.

As a matter of fact....mustached men don't just make a hair more than co-workers, but 8.2 percent more than men sporting beards and 4.3 percent more than clean-shaven men.

Yes, you read that right...a mustache can get you a possible 8.2 percent raise.....

Well....let me just say this...on behalf of the Italian women in the workforce.....I guess it's time to put away the Nair and let my mustache move me up the corporate ladder!

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Then we shall see face to face...

So, I am contemplating birthdays. I happen to be, not only a person who has a birthday, but a mom who has three children that have birthdays. Here is what I have come to know after 46 years of having personal birthdays....

Well, I can not tell you one dang thing about the day that I was born. I don't know what color the eyes of the doctor that delivered me was. I can not tell you how many nurses were in the room or what color scrubs that they were wearing. I can not tell you what day of the week it was when I entered this world, or what the weather was like, or even what time that I entered this world. I don't know what my mom or dad looked like at that moment, or how they reacted.

But I have had the extreme privilege of being present for three glorious "birth days," one for Katie, one for Becky and one for David. I can tell you exactly what each doctor's name was that delivered my children. I also happen to know what color those doctor's eyes were. I know how many nurses were in each delivery room and what color scrubs that they were wearing. I can tell you exactly what day of the week it was, and even the exact minute that I finally got to lay eyes on each one of my babies. It was a moment that I will never forget...

So, as a person who has lived through 46 personal "birthdays" and as a mom who has lived through 3 actual "birth days," I wonder....why don't we celebrate birthdays with the mom's on the actual birth day of their children...why don't we give gifts to the moms....the one person who can tell you every detail of that moment when they visualized the pure love that had been growing in them for 9 months.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Where my intuition leads me....

So, I happen to work in a religious institution....

Here is something that I have noticed...woman's rights do not seem to be predominant here. As a matter of fact, I would almost bet that my salary, as a woman director, is considerably less than my male counterpart.

I have also noticed that I am asked by the paramount male leadership (I think that might be redundant) to provide my "woman's intuition." Can I just tell you how offensive that is to me???

The definition of "intuition" is "the power or faculty of attaining to direct knowledge without evident rational thought and inference." WHAT THE HECK???

The antonym for "intuition" is "knowledge," "reason," or "reasoning."

Seriously?

This is what the male leadership thinks that I have to offer....only intuition. I can not have any cognitive thought.

Okay...I "feel" like I might have a solution...I am going to go and buy myself a set of bumper nuts. You have surely seen these things hanging off the back of a redneck pickup truck. Well, I figure that if I buy a pair of those and hang them from my belt on my slacks...then maybe, oh maybe, I will be able to have a cognitive thought, as I feel that this must be where men do their cognitive thinking.....and then I can maybe get some respect around here.

And....I'm going to make my set brass!


Sunday, October 11, 2009

Bang Bang Club


So, today I spent the afternoon with my son. He had a soccer game in Louisville.

We had a beautiful ride over together. It was a beautiful autumn day...sun was shining, air was brisk, and the leaves were beginning to turn. I watched him play an excellent game. Then he and I went to the Cheesecake Factory....our favorite place to eat. He got what he always orders...the Club. He always lets me have a bite of his Club and I always tell him that it is so good, that the next time we go....I will order the Club. I say this EVERY time we go. So, today, he looks at me and says, "Okay mom, are you going to get the Club?" I say, "Yes, today is the day."

The waiter comes to the table and takes our order, two Clubs. The minute he walks away from the table, I begin to dream of Bang Bang Chicken....what I always order. I tell David, "I'm wondering if I should have ordered Bang Bang." David begins to laugh and says, "Mom, you finally ordered the Club. Don't think about the Bang Bang."

At this moment, our waiter walks past the table and I grab him and say, "Is it too late to change my order to Bang Bang Chicken and Shrimp?" He says, "I'll try."

David looks at me and begins to laugh...."I thought you were going to order the Club this time...but no...you had to get Bang Bang."

I explain to David that I actually HAD ordered the Club, so I had followed through on that....I just happen to be GETTING the Bang Bang.....oh well....maybe someday.

Friday, October 9, 2009

The "talk"

So, I am shocked to find out through a co-worker that the seventh grade health class is beginning the "sex" education curriculum....my son is in seventh grade and I haven't heard anything about this.

I ask him, "David, so are you learning about sex at school?"

He responds, "No, they are teaching that in health class and I don't have health this year."

I say, "Good....I don't want you learning about sex."

He says, "Mom....I can't go through life not knowing about sex."

Oh....a mom can hope!

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Put me in coach...I'm ready to play

So, today I found myself in a very familiar situation....and yet at the time it didn't dawn on me that I had been here before.

Let me digress, I was in sixth grade....a very shy young girl. I had a few friends at school, but for the most part I watched life happen around me, a spectator of life with no confidence to enter in. Anyhow, one day following school, I began to walk home and came upon another sixth grader, a very large young man who was the school bully, who had a young fifth grade girl, the school "cooty girl," up against the wall and was smashing garbage into her face. Well, even though I was quite content to watch most of life pass by, I was not content to watch this unfold. This was injustice...this was wrong. I happen to be Italian...and therefore, my passions and emotions can, and sometime do, rule me....this was one of those moments. I, a shy spectator of life, walked up to the bully and grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around to face me. At this time I said, "Leave her alone." He then said, "Who is going to make me?" I replied, "Me." He pushed me up against the wall and began to beat the living tar out of me.....I might be emotional and passionate but I am not a good fighter. Good news was that he stopped picking on the young girl....

Now, fast forward to eleveth grade. I am still a spectator of life. I have a few good friends, but for the most part, I lack any confidence to participate in a crowd. I am at a high school football game with a friend and I had to take my little sister, Judy, with me. She was a sixth grader. Anyhow, we were watching the game from the bleachers and Judy leans over to me and says, "That large girl behind me is burning me with her cigarette butt." I look behind us and there is a very large, manly looking girl trying to burn my sister with her cigarette. Again, my emotions kick in and I say, "Hey, leave my sister alone." The large bully ignores me. A little time passes and Judy leans over and says, "She is burning me again." I turn around and say, "Hey bitch....leave my sister alone." Next thing I know, she pounces on me....we both roll down a few bleachers and I am pinned under her while she beats the crap out of me.

Okay....fast forward to today.....I am at work and sitting in a committee meeting....a discussion begins about something that will drastically affect our hourly employees. I have to admit, that for the most part I have been a spectator in this group....watching and listening to the things that are going on around me....not really confident that I can offer any wisdom to this particular group....but today.....my emotions kick in and I speak....and then I follow it up with analysis and an email.

Now, I wait....to see if this particular emotional outburst will result in the same outcome....you know....getting the crap beat out of me.

As I reflect on today...I wonder why there are these moments in my life when I refuse to be a spectator and enter into the situation with authority and courage....I find that the common denominator is when I see injustice....specifically, when someone with superior status, or size, or title, tries to silence the underdogs voice....or belittle the underdog....or take advantage of them, or neglect them....I find that I can speak, I find my voice.....or maybe I find that I can be their voice.....

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

More than Scooby was in my lap


So, this past Friday night was homecoming at the high school. My daughter Becky had a date....a friend date. Which meant that I had to pick her up after the dance.

It started to get late, like 11 pm, and I started to get tired, so I decided to shower and get dressed for bed. I got out of the shower and put my over-sized t-shirt, no bra, and my Scooby Doo boxer shorts. My hair was wet and I had no makeup on.

The clock struck midnight and Becky called me to say, "Come and get me." A fleeting thought enters my mind....maybe I should throw on a bra....ah.....who's going to see me? I'm just picking up my daughter.

So, I drove to the school and got in a LONG line of traffic.....I saw lots of people .....and they saw me....I comforted myself with that fact that because I am 45 years old....and nursed all three of my children, so no one could see my bra-less boobs....because they were sitting in my lap.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Growing bellies and growing love


So, as I sat there in the OB/GYN, I suddenly became very aware of my age....I am 45. I am not 25; young, bright eyed, tight skin that match the tight jeans, long flowing hair....I am not that. I am 45; older, wiser, baggy skin that match the baggy jeans, short and gray haired. My eyes are not so bright now....they do not hold that twinkle of mystery and wonder, not knowing what is down the road....no, they hold a look that says, "Oh, I know what you are in for....I've been there, done that"....and therefore, my eyes hold compassion.

I saw myself in those young, pregnant women. They were so full of delight as they waddled into the office. They had NO idea how much their life was about to change. They had NO idea that this is not just a time of growth in your belly. NO.....this is a growth in your love....from now until the day you die. This baby is your responsibility....you will never stop worrying about this child....you sill never stop loving this child...you will never stop wanting the best, working to provide....and the more children that you have....the more your love and worry grows....and then your children grow and get married and have children....and the more your love and worry grows.

So, maybe that explains the difference in our looks....their look is expected love......my look captures an existing love, an expanding love.....a full love, with all the responsibility that entails.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

No shoes, no shirt, no service

So, OB/GYN, observation day 2......

I am amazed at what is going on in our society today.....yesterday, as I waited for 4 glorious hours in the waiting room of the OB/GYN, I couldn't help but get a glimpse of our current economy. I happened to sit in the chair next to the front desk. I can't begin to count the number of women who were VERY pregnant, and signed in, only to be called back up to the desk and told, "I'm sorry, your insurance is no longer active."

Then I listened to these young ladies, MANY of them, trying to convince the receptionist that there is some mistake....they have insurance. After several phone calls, they were told that they have no insurance.

One young lady is burned into my memory. She was VERY pregnant, I mean drop that baby at any moment pregnant. She walked up to the front desk and signed in and gave them her insurance card. Then she was called back up and told, "I'm sorry, your insurance is no longer active." She looked like a deer in the headlights....totally confused and shocked.

She slowly walked back to her seat and sat and stared for a long time. Then she proceeded to make several calls on her cell phone. When she finished the final one, she still had the deer in the headlights look.

This doctor's office basically refused at least seven women in the four hours that I was there.

I came home and read my paper and there was an article from a Christian OB/GYN that said he has never seen the amount of patients that have tried to convince his staff that they still have their insurance, when in fact, they do not. He and his office have decided to wave payments for these poor women who have no insurance and are pregnant or sick.

Can I just say this, "God, please bless this doctor and his practice!"

What have we become? When a woman who is ready to drop a baby any moment is told that she has not insurance and without insurance, there is no service......seriously, is this what we have become?

I am reminded of the signs, "No shoes, no shirt, no service," that is found on most fast-food joints.....now, I am expecting to see this sign on all doctor's office doors, "No insurance, no service."