Scandals and Subjects

I've been working on entering some family tree data my grandpa gave me into Ancestry.com lately. I'm fascinated by it, and it's been taking up most of my free time. He has always said he comes from a long line of horse thieves and cattle rustlers. Truly, many of these entries have been like a soap opera - murder, insanity, betrayal, suicide, greed... you name it. I'm sure there were good things too, things like love, friendship, loyalty, and generosity, but those things don't make "history" any more often than they make the evening news. The fact that my grandparents turned out as normal as they did, rarely ceases to amaze me.

Mark has been working 3-11's lately, and when he gets home around midnight, I'm still plunking away at my keyboard. I was lamenting to him last night about the sadness in this tree. The infant/child mortality rate was one thing that was bothering me. It was not uncommon for a couple to have 8-10 children and lose more than half of them to death before age 5. I can't imagine bearing children knowing that there was less than a 50% chance that they would survive. Mark said, "Well, they were a lot more accustomed to death than we are." I know he's right about that. It started making me think about, not only how shamefully spoiled I am, but how ungrateful I often become for the things I do enjoy.

This evening, for example, I was going to run to get a pizza for us to eat for supper, as I sometimes do when Mark is not home at dinner time, and I want a quick eat and clean-up. Austin is old enough to stay with the younger kids for a few minutes at a time, but Levi and Claire wanted to come with me to town. That was fine with me, because I figured it would cut down on the chances of strife at home while I was gone if I took 2/5 of the brood with me. Levi and Claire were in the back seat, and I was listening to him trying to make conversation with his big sister, "So Claire, what you bent?" "What I bent?" asked a confused Claire. Levi replied, "Yeah, what you bent? You know, what you bent?" Claire exclaimed above the radio, "Mom, Levi is asking me what I bent. What does that mean?!" I turned down the radio and had her repeat her question. Then I said, "I think he's asking you where you've been." He said, "Yeah, Claire." She said, "Um, in the car with you."

A little while later, Levi decided to try again, "Claire, what Wiggle do you want to be?" Claire sheepishly responded (finally considering herself a little too mature for The Wiggles), "Oh, I don't care." He said, "Okay, you can be Mary." She said, "Murray?" "Yeah," he replied, "Mary." Claire just said, "Okay," undoubtedly hoping to end the conversation. He then asked me what Wiggle I wanted to be, and I turned down the radio again to tell him I wanted to be Greg. He said, "Good. I'll be Jeff," and promptly pretended to snore. I began to holler, "Wake up Jeff!" And, after awhile of my nonsense, Claire actually decided to join me.

Later that evening, I was putting the children to bed without Mark here, which is always twice the chore - twice the stories, twice the medicining and teeth brushing and expander key turning and talking and singing. Violet (18 mos.) is obsessed with tooth brushes, tooth paste, and anything else associated with dental hygiene. She takes the toothbrushes and paste out of the drawer in the bathroom and disperses them throughout the house, and the older kids have taken to hiding their toothbrushes to keep them from being stolen and redistributed. Last night they hid the toothpaste also. So this evening, she was looking for the toothpaste for her brush. She brought me her toothbrush, and a sample tube of Eucerin lotion. She wanted me to put the lotion on her toothbrush. She spent the rest of the evening trying to put anything that comes in a tube on her toothbrush.

All of these things can either strike me as cute or annoying, depending on my mood. Following around after a child, putting her messes back in order or having nonsense conversations in the car when I'd rather listen to the radio is a blessing I am taking for granted. If I had been in my ancestors' shoes, I would likely have lost some of my children (or my own life in having them). I doubt I would have felt at ease giving my whole heart as freely to my children either - fearing I would likely lose them at some point. (I know this, because I'm afraid of getting attached to the kittens that live in my garage for the same reason - and I didn't even birth them.) Not that I never worry about the safety of my children, but I am blessed to live today, when I can feel freedom not to worry to excess. Maybe the idea that we now have some level of control over life and death makes us feel more like gods ourselves. Maybe it makes us feel less vulnerable and more powerful, and, as humans, we can get drunk on that feeling. But I have to keep remembering that it is, after all, only a feeling of control.

I obviously haven't been able to protect my children from all heartache. Mark and I have a book about helping your children heal from the pain of divorce. Speaking of which, I am aware, through the typing of my family tree, that I am one of the scoundrels in it. I didn't kill anyone or end up in an asylum (yet, anyway), but I have had two marriages, two sets of children. We were at a park with some friends last week. My friend and I were talking when her son came up to us and said, "We're playing house." I said, "Oh, yeah? Who's the mom and who's the dad?" He said, "Katelynn's the mom, and Levi's the step dad, and Mason's the real dad." I immediately looked at my friend and said, "Oh, no. We have your kids playing step family! You may have some more explaining to do on the way home." We laughed about it, but it wasn't funny... not really. I had an immediate lump in my throat when it happened, and now it's more just kind of a twinge of heartache. It's not only that my children are "adulterating" their friends, but more that they are adulterated themselves. They have met, at such a young age, with a cruel truth of life. Yes, it's one that many share, but that doesn't mean it's not unfair or that it's right. There are a lot of people who have done something wrong or are doing something wrong and, instead of seeing their sin for what it is, demand that other people get on board with it... agree with it... or even endorse it. They want people to accept their lifestyle so that they feel better about it. I've never felt that way. We had family/friends who refused to come to our wedding because it was a second marriage, and we understood and respected their choice. We hate it when we see our own sin effecting our children or anyone else we love. We have grown through our divorces, and we have changed in unimaginable ways, but we don't ever expect anyone to be okay with our situation. We're not even okay with it. We are thankful for God's grace, and we hope to extend it to others, even if they can't find it for us sometimes.

I'm thankful that my family tree is just a vignette of the truth of who I have been made to be - who I am becoming. Some truth, after all, actually is subjective.

Lost and Found

At our home, we don't have cable or satellite TV. We don't even have an antenna. That decision partially started out as an "accident", but it has ended up a choice. When we were first married, we had two houses - the farm Mark was renting from his parents in Iowa and the one I had built in Illinois. The girls and I moved to Iowa with Mark and Austin until Mark could find a job closer to our home in Illinois. Before my divorce, I watched a lot of television. We had four in the house, and many times they were all on at one time so that I could walk from room to room without missing things. I often found it a way of escape from the trials of a difficult marriage. It was similar to attempting to nourish myself with mostly junk food or like putting electrical tape over the low oil warning light in my car. It was a brief escape, but probably, in many ways, kept us lulled into apathy about the state of our marriage. Financially, things were more tight when Brett left. I started working again, which I hadn't done in a few years, and I decided it that we weren't home enough to justify paying a bill for TV.

Anyway, that was the first season of my life minus TV, and I have enjoyed every season since then. I have spent more time with my children. I have become more sensitive to the things I once missed. I have become more likely to try to confront the things that make me miserable, and I have become less miserable.

We still have DVD's, and we rent movies from Netflix sometimes though. It is easier to enjoy TV but still keep it in balance that way. Lately, we started getting the TV series LOST from Netflix. We are enjoying watching it. If you've not seen it, it's about some people who, as the result of a plane crash, have become stranded on what they thought was a deserted tropical island. We are still only in the first season, but the crash victims are beginning to find out that they are not alone on the island after all, and that there are some other "people" who seem to be (at least at this point) soulless. They have empty eyes and hollow speech. Their emotions are lacking.

This got me thinking, as I was headed to bed one night, of all the movies I've seen in my life, the scary ones are often about the soulless: the vampire, the undead zombie, the "pod people"/alien replacements of real humanity. These are the ones who are missing a portion of themselves - the invisible portion. This is, apparently, the worst thing that we can imagine - losing our own lives is bad, but losing the invisible part of ourselves is so much worse. The soul - our mind, will, and emotions - is the invisible portion of ourselves that makes us distinct as humans - different from the animals. Our soul is the invisible part of us that makes us capable of having a relationship with our Creator and with the rest of His creation. It was a gift from that same Creator... not only to us but to Himself. To create something that has the ability to commune with oneself and others (like Geppetto and Pinocchio) is within the heart of the artist and reflects our Father's heart. He has longed for a relationship with us. Like Pinocchio, we don't understand our Creator's desire and, as a result, we often hurt Him. We wander on our own way, looking for the more that we know is out there somewhere, but filling ourselves with all the junk food we can find along the way instead... not realizing that it is ultimately lulling us into a position of complacency that could lead to the very thing we fear the most - losing our souls. We are robbing ourselves of the opportunity to become real.

When you have seen a loved one lying in wake at a funeral or visitation... what's missing? Their physical body is still there, but the most important part is obviously gone. What has gone away? In Matthew 10:28 - 31, Jesus says, ²⁸"Do not fear those who kill the body but are unable to kill the soul; but rather fear Him who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell. ²⁹"Are not two sparrows sold for a cent? And yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. ³⁰"But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. ³¹"So do not fear; you are more valuable than many sparrows."

It's the soul we fear losing... the part that is actually necessary for living. If we had just descended from animals, we would have no need for abstract thought, a complex will, or certainly any emotions beyond fear. The simplest sets have survived the ages without the ability to reason or feel. However, we have all of these - and more. Obviously, the physical body isn't what's necessary for living, because it is still present - even in the dead. The part that many try to deny even exists... that's the part that we most fear losing. If the physical body were able to go on living without mind, will, and emotions - the ability to commune with humanity and Creator... no sympathy, no heart... that is lost.

Back to my first season without TV: My spiritual walk changed completely at that point. I had nothing to do at night anymore. I had a few books... a Bible, which took up permanent residence on my "husband's" side of the bed. I soaked it in. I copied entire chapters word-for-word, by hand, taking extra notes. I figured that the purpose of God's Word was to 1) teach me about who He was, 2) teach me about my identity as a follower of Him, and 3) teach me how to live my life. I wanted to learn these things. So I began to read for hours each night - classifying each verse into one of 3 categories: God is..., I am..., and Admonitions. I have 5 subject notebooks full of those copied chapters and notes and a mind full of those sweet memories... nights spent face-down on my floor - looking for something I had already thought I had found. Knowledge is not being found. In fact, sometimes it ends up in feeling more lost. Truth is the only way to be found. The winner of the World Geography Bowl could be just as lost - anywhere in the world - as you or I... without a map of where he is. He has all kinds of knowledge, but without the truth of where he is and how to get somewhere else, he is just as lost as you or I.

Like Pinocchio, you and I were made for a purpose. The Artist wants a relationship. Turning toward Him is where we find our identity, and the LOST become FOUND.