Diligent Joy Blog

Gray Area

I was driving to the store tonight to get a few things we needed, and heard about the shooting at the military base in Texas, allegedly perpetrated by an army mental health specialist who's deployment was imminent.  I didn't even know where to put all the incongruous pieces of information to fit in my brain.  Army psychiatrist/mental health specialist.  Suspect. Shooting. 12 dead. Army base. Friendly fire.....

I got to the store, picked up my few items, and was staring at the endless array of wine wondering which would go best with Grey's Anatomy.  I struck up a conversation with the man next to  me, who appeared to be equally perplexed in making a choice.  "You just gotta pick one," he said.  "Actually," I replied, "I'm looking for a blend I like."  "Oh," he said, "what's it called?"  I took a breath and replied, "Menage a Trois."  Awkward laughter.  "I saw that.  It's right over here,"' he said.  I thanked him, got my bottle, and self-checked out with my reusable bag.

On the way home, there was a piece on the radio with a montage of voices with opinions about the Afghan War.  The Afghan War. The phrase struck me.  "Geesh!" I thought.  "How did it get to the place where my country is in two wars?" 

Listening to the people's words, which varied from "Bring 'em all home" to "Get more troops in there and get the job done," I was struck by how complicated the situation is.  Just read Kite Runner or A Thousand Splendid Suns.  Is it our moral responsibility to help the people of Afghanistan?  Probably.  Do they want our help?  Depends on if they are Taliban or not.  I'm sure many Afghans want nothing to do with Americans, and can you blame them?  I mean, really?  Perhaps they would think it just that one of our own military psychiatrists would kill our own troops.  There's simply no easy answer.

Still, I wonder what it would take for us all to have compassion for each other.  I believe that there have been horrendous mistakes that no amount of military intervention or community rebuilding will eradicate.  Nothing we can do will make it all better.  Often, that is the case in life. 

Instead of trying to fix things, or giving up, I believe we need compassion.  Compassion for those whose lives have been ruined, both in Afghanistan and in our own country.  Compassion for those who believe violence is their only refuge, and compassion for those who want peace at any cost.  Compassion for the leaders in Afghanistan and the United States and the United Nations and the countries who don't want to be involved.  

Most of us don't have access to the powers in charge of the wars--so we need to practice compassion with those close to us.  Those local leaders who make decisions we agree with, and those who don't.  Those relatives we get along with, and those who drive us just a little bit nuts.  Those drivers who let us in, and those who flip us off.  Compassion.  It's not excusing behavior; it's practicing the quality of what flows out of our hearts, and minds, and mouths into the world. 

Anger and bitterness leave nasty tastes behind, like a wine who's blend has soured.  Compassion is a smoother blend--understanding, tolerance, and love mixed together in the broadest sense of acceptance.  We don't have to love everything that happens, but it will do our souls good to love the souls who share our planet.

Protect Who?

I am offended by the yard signs that have popped up in the last few days on the roadside in my neighborhood.  Urging people to reject Referendum 71 in our state is one thing, but with "Protect Marriage!  Protect Children!" as their tag line?  I don't think so.

First of all, the Referendum protects the rights the Washington legislature approved, which are commonly called the "Everything but marriage" provisions.  Domestic partnership is what is legal in Washington.  This provides protection for not only gay and lesbian couples, but also seniors in committed relationships who choose not to marry.

Protect marriage from what?  Those of us heterosexual couples who have the right to marry, since we do such a bang up job of it?  Current statistics put the divorce rate at between 45% and 49% of new marriages, depending on the source.  And since this law doesn't even have to do with marriage, this is a moot--well, actually, a very misrepresented point.

Protect children from what?  Parents in a committed relationship?    We need more of that, not less.  Being allowed to marry offers no guarantee that a couple will parent well.  Child abuse rates attest to that. Simply providing biological material to create a human being unfortunately carries with it no mandatory knowledge, wisdom, or commitment in caring for that being during or after pregnancy.  

What kind of protection is provided when a partner is forbidden from visiting a loved one dying in the hospital?  Whom does that protect? 

The question on the table is who is going to legislate what we believe?  Should the state deny rights to people simply because of their sexual orientation or living arrangements?  We need to approve Referendum 71 so we can protect people from the real issues on the table:  bigotry and hate.  I do agree with the opponents on one thing:  they are encouraging people to pray for Washington State.  Please do.  Let's join the folks in DC and elsewhere and Stand on the Side of Love, not hate and fear.  Contrary to what many on the dark side would lead you to believe, many Christians and Christian churches stand solidly on the side of equal rights for sexual minorities.

But you don't have to take my word for it.  Listen to Stephen Colbert.  Our state's fight made his national show last week.  Yes people, pray.  Pray hard for the people of Washington State.

http://www.colbertnation.com/the-colbert-report-videos/252735/october-26-2009/the-word---don-t-ask-don-t-tell

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Honor Society

Last night, my youngest son was inducted into National Honor Society at his school.  There was the usual grumbling about going--not sure what "dressed up" meant on the invitation, are others really going to be there, etc. Busy schedules and multiple conflicts aside, we went--my son, his dad, and I.

We arrived to find the principal gesturing us to where there were still a few open seats in a packed chapel.  Since he attends a Jesuit high school, the ceremony began with a prayer, thanking God for the gifts of scholarship and asking for help in using them well.  I love this about the school--that there is a thoughtful prayer shared for the occasion.  I know that this is not appropriate in all schools, as this type of prayer is particular to one faith.  However, since it is my faith (Christianity, not Catholicism...) and the school we all chose, it soothes me as a parent to hear words about God when we gather.

Another aspect I admired about how this achievement was honored was the perspective that the speaker shared.  Essentially, she said, "We know you're able to get good grades--you've shown that.  Now what are you going to do?  How are you going to share that talent, that gift with others so that everyone is lifted up?"  Service is a requirement of National Honor Society at this school.  Students must commit to several hours of tutoring others in need each year.  It's not a huge commitment, but it is there, and it is integrity with what they espouse, which I admire and support.

Afterward, there were cookies and soft drinks.  I mean, you deserve a cookie if you get into National Honor Society, right?  We mingled with other parents, whom we have seen at other events--scouts and band and swim team and graduations of older siblings.  Some looked a little more ragged than others--we have crossed into the time in our lives when many are dealing with difficult decisions about parents with dementia or Alzheimer's or "confusion."  But my thoughts turned to the kids who weren't there.

I wished that every child could be acknowledged in such an honoring way for their gifts and talents.  I wished that every school could honor the academically successful, the athletically successful, the dramatically successful, the artistically successful, the service-oriented, the scientifically successful, the socially successful--and the kids for whom making it to school each day is their success.  I wished there was a way to give those kids who have slept on the couch, or endured another night of drunken parents, or no parents at home, or fighting parents--those who have not had enough food, or who are sick and don't have health care, or who just really need someone to talk to--I wished there was a way to appropriately honor those kids.  To let them know that we, the adults whom society defines as "successful,"  see who they really are--that we see their beautiful spirits and we love them and are here for them; that we are able and willing to reflect back to them the best of who they are instead of the worst or their mistakes.

I don't know how that would look on the school calendar, but I trust there are those people every day who are in the schools doing just that.  Sometimes, we have to redefine our definitions of success. 

Appropriately, last night's ceremony was closed with this prayer from St. Francis of Assissi.  May we each take it to heart today, and reflect the best in all who cross our paths:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace; where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy. O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood, as to understand; to be loved, as to love; for it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life. Amen.

Blowin' in the wind....

This morning, I was excitedly sharing with my spiritual support group about Breakfast with Buddha--a novel I've found beautiful in places.  I was talking about how I loved the joy in the book and the focus on love as what "makes go the world."  It reminded me of the button I had in college that said, "Love is the answer.  Now, what was the question?"

A character in the novel also describes God as music that is always playing--beautiful music--yet, not everyone can hear it.  Not everyone is listening.  With a clear mind, it is easier to listen; with a clear mind, it is easier to know that love is what makes the world go around. 

Fast forward to the dinner hour, where, in the midst of my realizing I'd started it quite late, my son arrives and announces the dog has just had an accident.  This particular rescue pup is prone to anxiety-induced random pees every once in awhile...While I deftly get the dog elsewhere, complete the stages of dinner that results in getting it into the oven, and clean up the accident, I ponder how to keep a clear mind.  Just as I am taking a deep breath and reminding myself that my stress level is really my choice at the moment, my son wonders out loud what type of candy he should dress up as tomorrow for spirit week.  I jokingly suggest he tie a pillow case over his head and go as a tootsie pop.  Just the visual makes me laugh out loud, especially when I realize he can't see with a pillow case over his head and would be running into God knows what all day.

Then I start to think, what kind of mother would think that's funny?  A human one.  One that is thankful for the Hurricane of Grace that surrounds her, even when she is not listening.  The air is dense with the aroma of dinner in the oven.  The dog has settled for a nap on the couch.  The son is ensconced in Spanish homework.  Perhaps I am hearing a note of that beautiful music after all.

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Bikinis, Baristas, and More Sexism in the Great Northwest

A friend of mine recently asked me to weigh in on the local Bikini Barista scandal.  Yeah, I have a few things to say.....

The news story centers around some young women, ages 18-24, who have been charged with prostitution after a two-month investigation by Everett police detectives.  Wow.  Two months.  That's a lot of opportunity to double check that when you drive through one particular stand for coffee, you get the mutual whipped cream licking extravaganza or a strip show.  Maybe they were just being thorough, wanting to make sure that the girls were really doing this over and over and over again. One detective reportedly went once with a prosecuting attorney, and then went back on another occasion, where he witnessed more of the above behavior. Give the boys in blue a hand for their thoroughness.  Boo-yah.

A dear friend told me last week that her daughter was just hired at a drive-through espresso stand near her town, where "the girls get more tips depending on what they wear, but it can't be 'skanky' or 'sleezy'."  Talk about CYA.  Wear what (or as little as) you want, but if you get in trouble, Mr. Boss-man will be able to say he warned you about not being "skanky" or "sleazy."  The conversation came up when my friend found lingerie on the floor that her daughter was planning to wear to work.

Where's the equal opportunity employment here?  While it's not against the law, obviously these private employers do discriminate on the basis of gender, age, and most likely, weight.  I doubt I'd pass muster to be hired as a bikini barista, though the thought of a bunch of middle-aged mamas taking on this challenge does have a certain appeal.

I keep thinking about the blatant sexism involved in these cases.  I mean, can you even imagine a coffee stand where male barista would stoop to this type of behavior?  Actually, you don't have to imagine it.  Check out this story from Silverdale, WA, where one male barsita did just that--donned pasties in an effort to poke fun at this craze of scantily clad female coffee makers in our state.  But here's the rub.  He did it as a joke.  And in fact, this is no joke.

Imagine if a bunch of men were seriously hired to dress scantily on a regular basis to get  more tips from predominantly female clients at a coffee stand.  How long do you think it would take for someone to be up in arms about lewd and lascivious behavior toward young women in our midst?  I doubt it would be anywhere near two months. And therein lies the irony.  On the one hand, we have the "leave us alone" private enterprise folks saying it's no big deal, and on the other, we have a slap in the face of women's rights.  Sex sells, and while some people may say it's the girls' prerogative to work somewhere like that, there is this--my friend's daughter is working where she does because "no one else is hiring right now."   Since when is it ok to pimp out women in any sense of the word due to touch economic times?

Say what you may about first amendment rights and freedom of expression, but this is much deeper than that.  If girls are feeling pressure to sexualize themselves for money in order to make a living, something is very wrong.  We'd all frown if these were drug-addicted women on the street corners in our neighborhoods, so why isn't it the same outrage for the corner coffee stand?  And where's the accountability for the owner for his employees' on-the-job conduct?  Looking the other way is neither appropriate or excusable in this scenario.

Next time you or someone you know is told to wear a bikini to work by a male employer, think twice about the indirect impact on young girls and boys and other women and men in society.  We need to band together as women and men to fight sexism, because the impact of it continuing is felt far beyond our neighborhoods, out cities, and even our country's borders.  We are all worthy of dignity and respect, whether our bodies are judged bikini worthy or not.

The Spirit of Intersex

I have written recently in The Federal Way Mirror, and in the Parenting by Strengths Blog about Intersex issues.  The media coverage of Caster Semenya, which coincided with my finishing the book, Middlesex,  has prompted these writings.  Our society, by and large, is woefully ignorant about intersex issues--the frequency of their occurrence, the number of issues that cause them, the difference between sex and gender in general.

Here, on my personal blog, I am struck by what God thinks about all of this, having created each and every individual exactly the way they are and loving us all--those of us who are intersex, along with those of us who are woefully ignorant about this topic and still use the outdated and inaccurate term "hermaphrodite." 

This video is a performance by Eric Bibb of his song, Spirit I Am.  I was introduced to this song this weekend at a Satsong at my favorite yoga studio.  I think it brings it all home.  We all live the spirit we are, in the bodies we have.  Amen.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LTYmFMQ-4A

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Grace Among the Blackberries

I was picking blackberries the other day, and I got to thinking. Not native to our area, they are invasive, thorn-ridden pesty brambles that folks love to hate--except when they bear their annual fruit, at which time we all rush out to pick as many as we can to create delectable jams, cobblers, crisps and such.

As I navigated the thorns with bowl in hand, I began to think of the analogies with life.  Which parts do I look over, deeming them not good enough for my attention?  Which parts are not quite ready for my attention?  Which parts am I willing to make careful plans, go through thorns, and even put up with an injury or two to get at?  Which parts take me unaware?  Which parts are past any help?  Which parts stain my hands as I deal with them?  Which parts are sweet?  Sour?  Moldy?  Out of reach?  Hidden?

It's our attitude, I decided, that makes quite a difference in how we see things, be they blackberry bushes or life.  God created this plant, this life, and depending on our perspective (what's in it for me?), we see more prominently the thorns, the fruit, or the potential.

Fast forward to a meeting at church last night, where I was decidedly wearing thorn-colored glasses.  I vocalized my concerns, my complaints, my....issues.  This morning, as I was thinking about it, I was humbled.  I needed to take my own advice.  I was looking only at what was in the way and had forgotten to count my blessings.  I had forgotten that I am more than a body, more than a youth director, more than a congregant.  I am a Spirit, a Child of God, and I had momentarily lost my connection with that fruit and potential, only to be mired up in the thorny patch of "reality."

Reality is over-rated sometimes.  Or maybe I should say, what we define as reality is over-rated sometimes.  I am staring squarely at a choice of focusing on what could be or what is.  Byron Katie has done amazing spiritual work by living her belief of not only not resisting, but loving what is (she has a book by that name, by the way.....).   I can, as in so many situations in life, stay caught up in what I wish were true, what I think would be better or best, what I know could be only if....Or I can take stock of what is in front of me, practice gratitude, and move forward in grace.

This morning, I choose grace.  I've begun phone calls to let people know how I am grateful for them.  I am creating a new reality--one where I know I am Spirit in this body; much like our church is a place where God can hang out and inspire people to do Her work.  And I'm having blackberry cobbler for lunch.