tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42085110792777195252024-02-19T06:53:57.424-08:00The Metheran LifeWesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.comBlogger102125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-75736704118234719032016-08-04T14:57:00.000-07:002016-08-04T15:00:47.746-07:00When parenting is painful<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px; margin-bottom: 1.35em;">
<span style="background-color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="" style="line-height: 21.3px;"><b>Jess:</b> </span>It’s world breastfeeding week again. Three years ago, I wrote a blog about my struggle with nursing James and the painful decision to give up (<a href="http://themetheranlife.blogspot.com/2013/08/mommy-wars-jessica-strike-back.html" target="_blank">Read here</a><a class="" href="http://themetheranlife.blogspot.com/2013/08/mommy-wars-jessica-strike-back.html%29" style="cursor: pointer; line-height: 21.3px;" target="_blank">)</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When I found out I was pregnant again, I vowed that breastfeeding would work this time. I planned a VBAC so that I wouldn’t have to worry about c-section complications getting in the way. We had assumed that my body’s disastrous response to the surgery with James had been the major factor in my inability to breastfeed him. With James, I had skimmed through some books on the topic. With Joseph, I read and read and planned all the ways that this would be different. I wasn’t going to let my body fail me a second time.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">After a beautiful natural delivery (you can read about that <a href="http://themetheranlife.blogspot.com/2016_05_01_archive.html" target="_blank">here</a>), I was able to nurse Joseph immediately. He had a great latch and things seemed to be going beautifully. A little more than 24 hours later, we went home and continued to have a pretty decent nursing relationship. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, since this was new for both of us, but I thought we could figure it out. Wes and my mom did everything to make breastfeeding easy for me. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Then Joseph started screaming—<i class="" style="line-height: 21.3px;">screaming</i>—every time I tried to feed him. We would fight with him for 45 minutes only to have him feed for a few minutes and pass out in frustration. When we got him into the doctor for his first appointment at 6 days old, he had lost a pound—just like his big brother. I went into HEB in tears on our way home to get the can of formula that would save him from the dehydration and hospital stay that we had with James. Then I got my pump out and went to work. Some of my friends had needed to supplement at first, so I assumed that this was just a stage.<span style="line-height: 21.3px;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As Joseph developed nipple preference and my 8-12 pumping sessions per day produced less than 25% of his needs, we called a lactation consultant. It was then—when my second child was more than two weeks old—that I finally discovered the issue. I have a condition called Insufficient Glandular Tissue (IGT). Basically, my milk-producing tissue never developed when I was an adolescent. With each pregnancy, my breasts have developed a little more tissue. So I produced more with Joseph than James, but still nowhere near his needs.<span style="line-height: 21.3px;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was crushed. I didn’t go into breastfeeding either time with some idea that it would be all sunshine and roses. I knew that I would struggle, but I assumed that I would have enough milk for my children. How could my body fail me like this? How could every breastfeeding resource assure me that “almost no women” have true supply issues when at least 5% of us do? Doctors try make previous c-section patients have second c-sections because the risk of uterine rupture during labor increase to .2% from .1% after the first surgery. But “almost no women” have supply issues!? And that is just the women who do research rather than give up when their babies don’t get enough food.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It is painful to be in this place. It is painful to once again be opening cans of formula. It is painful to hear that I’ve taken the “easy way,” or “formula is poison,” or “breast is best.” Everywhere I turn, I can find that last phrase. What about “fed is best”? What about acknowledging the amazing strides science has made so that we can mimic breastmilk for our babies? What about celebrating the fact that my children survived despite my body not being able to nourish them? It is hard to see all of my friends succeed where I have failed. It is hard to watch other mothers feed their children in a way I will never be able to feed mine. It is hard. But my children are thriving, the formula/breastmilk period of their lives is so short, and we have an amazing bond. So during World Breastfeeding Week, I rejoice with those who nurse successfully, I weep with those who cannot, and I remember to not be too hard on my body—after all, it grew and birthed two beautiful boys. What a blessing it is to be their mother. <a class="" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack" style="cursor: pointer; line-height: 21.3px;" target="_blank"></a> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><span class="" style="line-height: 21.3px;">Wes:</span><span style="line-height: 21.3px;"> </span></b><span style="line-height: 21.3px;">This is going to once again be a blog in which I have very little to say. This is not because I do not have strong feelings and opinions on this, but because, having gone through this twice as Dad—and not as Mom—I have come to realize that my place in this story is not to</span><span style="line-height: 21.3px;"> </span><i class="" style="line-height: 21.3px;">say </i><span style="line-height: 21.3px;">anything myself, but to serve as an ally and a megaphone for my wife.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 21.3px;">What I want to say is just go re-read everything Jess wrote.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21.3px;">What I need to say is something to those who might find themselves in positions like mine, where your role is one of support. This is one of those times where being the Yes Man is so important. Your job is to encourage your wife in any way she needs, whether it is by spending extra money on consultants, pumps, and tools, by taking her to appointments and sitting beside her, or by handling all of the bottle feedings so she doesn’t have to feel like she’s giving up, your job is to be her biggest support. Your patience might be pushed. Your lack of sleep might reach new levels. Your temper will be tempted. But this is one of those times when</span><span style="line-height: 21.3px;"> </span><i class="" style="line-height: 21.3px;">you</i><span style="line-height: 21.3px;"> </span><span style="line-height: 21.3px;">are not the subject. Your focus is on her and the health of your baby.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21.3px;">Remember: this is not</span><span style="line-height: 21.3px;"> </span><i class="" style="line-height: 21.3px;">just</i><span style="line-height: 21.3px;"> </span><span style="line-height: 21.3px;">about saving your marriage (although it might). It’s not</span><span style="line-height: 21.3px;"> </span><i class="" style="line-height: 21.3px;">just </i><span style="line-height: 21.3px;">about helping your newborn baby (although you should). It’s about helping your spouse remember that she is not a failure, that she is not letting down your child or you or anyone by not being able to breastfeed. It’s about helping her live through what could be one of the darkest times of her life, as she feels physically incapable of being a mom.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #073763; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 21.3px;">Remind her that she is fearfully and wonderfully made, and so is y’all’s child. Then just be prepared to sit with her. It won’t be fun, or easy, or pleasant. But it will almost assuredly be what she needs.</span></div>
Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-18816177563282145372016-05-19T08:24:00.000-07:002016-05-19T08:27:08.179-07:00A tale of two births<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Jess: </b>On the evening of November 20, 2012, Wes yelled through the
bathroom door, “I’ve made some salsa that just might be hot enough to induce
labor!” I don’t remember my exact reply, but it was something along the lines
of, “Too late!” My water had broken and our first child was on the way. My mom
and stepdad had just arrived a few hours before to celebrate Thanksgiving with
us, so first we told them, and then we called the midwife. Since I had not had
any contractions yet, she told me to stay at home until I felt some or a few
hours had passed. So we had dinner, took showers, and watched <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Airplane!</i> Then we headed to the
hospital.</div>
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And nothing happened.</div>
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For almost a full day, we hung out in the labor room, with
my pitocin gradually being increased but having no effect. I wasn’t supposed to
get up and walk around because I was hooked up to baby monitoring equipment as
well as an IV; my blood pressure had skyrocketed and they were pretty concerned
about that. I arrived at the hospital 3cm dialated, but 26 hours after my water
broke I was only 4. After attempting a few measures to speed the process along,
my midwife finally said aloud what we had been dreading: c-section. She and the
OB were concerned about baby developing an infection after being exposed for so
long. </div>
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Surgery and I do not get along. James was born at 10:21
p.m., healthy and screaming. He was 6 pounds, 1 ounce and 18.5 inches long. Wes
was able to hold him pretty soon after. But my midwife lovingly referred to me
as a “train wreck” in the days to come. I needed I don’t even know how many supplements,
lots of extra attention, and two blood transfusions during my 3.5 more days in
the hospital. Even today, I feel like I was robbed of the birth experience I
wanted. For weeks and months afterward, I felt guilty for bringing my child
into the world in this way. I hated that my body couldn’t do what it was made
to do. </div>
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Flash forward almost 3.5 years. On the morning of April 6,
we had a routine prenatal appointment. We were 3 weeks away from Joseph’s due
date, and even though James was early I think Wes and I were both pretty
convinced that this baby would stay put longer. But at the appointment, the
doctor checked my progress and said she was sure we would have a baby within
two weeks. At first, we both panicked, but then we made a few plans for the
days and weeks to come and settled back down into waiting for baby. </div>
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All day that day, I had cramps on and off. I assumed they
were due to the exam and went about my business. James and I went to the
library, we had dinner at Wes’ church… just a generally normal day. Wes and I
watched some TV, at which point I complained that the cramping had been pretty
annoying but not really painful. It wasn’t until we were going to sleep that I
realized that the cramping had become somewhat regular. That perhaps I was
having contractions. I decided to time them; at this point, Wes had already
fallen asleep. Less than a minute after beginning to time the “cramps,” I felt
and heard a “pop!” I sprang out of bed and ran to the bathroom—my water had
broken! </div>
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After calming down and getting myself situated, I went in to
wake up Wes. I’ve never seen him wake up or move quite as fast as he did when I
said, “Um, honey? My water broke.” </div>
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For the next hour or so, we made phone calls, finished
packing our hospital bag, and waited for our friend Ryan to come and stay with
James. I spent most of the time in the shower, which was a really great way to
deal with contractions. By the time we left, they were about 2-3 minutes apart
and lasting about 1 minute.</div>
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The drive to the hospital was the worst of my life. When we
got in the car, Wes realized that we had no gas, so we had to stop at HEB. I
was in enough pain that I leapt out of the car and wandered the gas station
while he filled up, having several contractions in the minutes that getting gas
required. The 30 minute trip to the hospital seemed like it would never end. I
have never been so happy to arrive at the emergency room. Wes grabbed
everything and we started making our way to labor and delivery, but I had to
stop several times on the way because I could no longer walk or talk through
contractions.</div>
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Our doula, Josie, met us at check-in, where Wes was able to
fill out the one bit of paperwork required. I think the nurses recognized that
I was in no mood to labor at their desk, so they got us into a room pretty
quickly. They were a little worried about my fluid levels so I had an IV of
saline for a short time. The nurses checked me and found I was 4 cm
dilated—already as far as I had gotten with James and it had only been a couple
of hours! We filled out more paperwork (so much paperwork!) and then labor set
in even harder. </div>
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The next 4 or so hours is kind of a blur. I had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">major </i>back labor so Josie and Wes took
turns putting as much pressure as possible on my back during each contraction.
I stood, I laid down, I got on all fours, and I told myself repeatedly that I
just needed to get through one more contraction. Somewhere along the way my
water fully broke—only the forebag had broken at home. At several points, I was
sure that there was no way I could get through labor without pain medication.
Without Josie and Wes, I’m sure I couldn’t have—they were so supportive. When I
felt like I couldn’t take it any more, the nurses told me it was time to be
checked again. I had already decided (in my own mind) that if I wasn’t at least
6 cm, I would ask for an epidural. I was at 9! I distinctly remember laughing
somewhat and saying to everyone, “I think I might be able to do this!” </div>
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The nurses told me to let them know when I felt pressure
because that would mean that pushing time was getting close. Not long after
that check, I felt intense pressure—9.5 cm. They called the doctor and started
getting the room ready for delivery. I know a whole bunch more people came in, but
I don’t recall meeting any of them except Dr. Forbes; she was not my OB, but
she was on call so there we were. The only moment during labor when I wanted to
yell at/hit someone was when she came in during my “practice” pushes and told
the nurses to call her back when I was closer to delivering. If I hadn’t been
mid-contraction, we would have had some words…</div>
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Not long after that, pushing began in earnest, the doctor
came back, and I became concerned again that I couldn’t do it. “The ring of
fire” is no freaking joke. But when someone said, “I can see his hair!” I knew
that I was going to bring this boy into the world. A few pushes later, he was
out! I know it sounds cliché and crazy, but I instantly forgot all the pain,
all of the fear, all of the challenges. Joseph was perfect; he screamed bloody
murder until the moment they placed him on me. He was so content to lay on his
Momma, and I could have stayed like that forever. I’m pretty sure Wes didn’t
get to hold him for an hour or so. Oops. This birth was so redeeming for me,
and just so amazing. It has been six weeks and I still can’t believe that I did
it. And I’m more in love with this precious baby every day. </div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Wes: </b>I stubbed my
toe on the way into the prenatal ward. Worst pain anyone has ever experienced. </div>
Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-79691182055801482562015-11-17T18:17:00.000-08:002015-11-17T18:17:36.643-08:00How long, oh Lord?<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Jess: </b>When I was
a just barely fourteen-year-old high school freshman, the world crumbled around
me (or so it seemed). On a typical Tuesday morning, terrorists struck out
against the US. The World Trade Centers fell, and with them my innocence
regarding the power of evil on earth. I was certainly not alone in feeling this
way; people all over the country felt fear—for themselves, for their families,
for the future of our nation. Yet before the smoke had even stopped billowing,
nations from around the world reached out in solidarity with the US.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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As the people of the US rallied together in solidarity,
people around the world condemned our attackers and pledged aid where aid might
be needed. Not long after seeing the very worst of what people with evil intentions
can do, we saw the very best of what people with compassion and good intentions
can do. We listened to men and women aboard the airplanes who called their
family members with messages of hope and love. We heard about those who stood
up against the terrorists and—knowing they would die—struggled to save other
innocent people. We watched first responders rush into chaos to save those who
were trying to get out. We heard cries like, “Today, we are all Americans,” a
resounding call to not let this terrible act of aggression destroy our unity.</div>
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Then, in a fit of rage and fear, the US sent troops into a
nation in which this terrorist group resided. Fourteen years later, we have
still been unable to extricate ourselves from this mess. Despite promises from
more than one president, other political leaders, and potential future
presidents, we are still at war. An entire generation of Americans has grown up
knowing only a nation at war. An entire generation of children thinks that it
is normal to expect that some of their friends’ parents—or their own—will have
to go overseas and be killed in a winner-less war. </div>
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Last week, terrorists attacked Paris. Let us not forget that
terrorists attack homes, villages, cities, and nations more or less every day
of every week of every year. Yet France and its citizens remind us of
ourselves. There has been much discussion of why this tragedy has been so
well-covered when others are ignored. Perhaps it is because we see ourselves in
the French people who are scared for their lives, the lives of their children,
the future of their nation. Perhaps it is because we know what it is like to go
from innocence to terror in a few seconds on a normal day. Perhaps it is
because we know what it feels like to send out troops in rage and fear to
defeat a terrifyingly powerful and well-hidden enemy. </div>
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I have been incredibly disappointed by the reactions of many
Americans to this disaster in France. Instead of saying, “Today, we are all
French,” we are saying, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">That’s </i>why
you don’t let refugees into your nation.” Instead of saying, “We stand with you
in solidarity,” we are saying, “At least it’s not us again.” Instead of saying,
“Terror is an enemy that we cannot fight with guns and fear but with unity and
hope,” we are saying, “Bomb the hell out of them.” This was not the answer 14
years ago. It is not the answer now. I don’t claim to have all the answers, but
I do know that history is repeating itself. The main difference? When the US
was attacked, the world joined with us in mourning instead of pointing fingers
and placing blame. Have we learned nothing?</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Wes:</b> As I am
writing this, I still can’t decide what exactly to write about. There are so
many points I want to make, so many statements I want to unpack, and so many
arguments I want to get in right now that it’s hard to decide which one among
them is winning in the emotionally-driven fight currently taking place within
my soul. I want to talk about how helping people should not be a partisan
position. I want to talk about violence and how it does not beget anything but
more violence. I want to talk about how an eye for an eye leaves the whole
world blind. And I want to do all of this because I react with such anger and
frustration every time I read something someone wrote or hear something someone
said as they are reacting with anger and frustration to an act of terror that’s
purpose is to make us react emotively in anger and frustration. </div>
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Try to diagram the above sentence and you start to
understand just how ridiculous this all is. </div>
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I want to talk about all of these things, but I’m going to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">try</i>, very hard, to practice for a moment
a lesson I learned from my Jewish brothers and sisters called sitting shiva.
You can read a little more about it<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shiva_(Judaism)" target="_blank"> here,</a> but the gist of it is this:
when someone is in mourning, you join them in mourning. You don’t try to give
them answers, you don’t try to fix it, and you don’t try to fill the empty
space with emptier words. </div>
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Instead, you just sit. </div>
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In silence. </div>
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And you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">be</i> with
them. </div>
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If they want to talk, awesome. Let them. Join in the
conversation and engage them how they can be engaged. But if they don’t, if
they just want to sit in silence in the muck and mire of brokenness for a
little bit, then you do just that. You mourn with them. You suffer with them.
You sit in the ashes alongside them and you shut up and you be whatever they
need you to be. </div>
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Right now, we are a part of a global community that is
suffering. Paris, Beirut, and Baghdad all had really bad weeks last week.
People died and terror reigned for a while and it was not good. And they are
not the only places. Syria has been in the grips of a years-long civil war that
has left untold numbers dead and destitute. There were two earthquakes last
week that left a path of destruction in major cities. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">There are still children being abducted and forced into soldiering and
prostitution in Africa</i>. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is quite a lot of pain in the world. And yes, we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">absolutely should</i> do something about it.
But do you want to know how evil wins? Do you want to know how the terrorists
win? (And I say both statements without a lick of sarcasm). </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When we react out of fear and anger and frustration, we feed
the fires of evil and brokenness. So before we act, before we engage these
awful events in any way, let’s take a moment to sit shiva with those who are
suffering. To be with them in the ashes, in the muck and mire of pain. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Then, after we’ve sat shiva, let’s tackle this together. Not
out of a place of anger or fear, but out of a place of love and strength. Let’s
seek to mirror together that perfect love of God that drives out all fear, and
let’s start by joining Christ, our God-with-us, in the muck and mire of sitting
shiva. </div>
Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-51626785787983333502015-09-16T18:48:00.000-07:002015-09-16T18:48:48.123-07:00The Revs. Metheran (or, "Confessions of Metheran-aholic)<b>Jess: </b>We have been incredibly remiss about keeping up with our blog. We'll try to do better, if only for Brad Johnson's sake. :)<br />
<br />
In the span of two weeks, Wes and I were both ordained (not that we're keeping track, but I was first). This is a goal that both of us have been working for for more than a decade. We entered college as theology majors, knowing that we would go to seminary afterward. When we got married, we almost immediately moved to New Jersey so that Wes could start seminary. Then it was my turn. Our married lives have always in some way revolved around our calling, our vocation.<br />
<br />
And yet, being ordained--getting to be The Revs. Cain--is really just a beginning. Although we have been working toward this for years, although so much of our married life has been spent working out the details of being double seminary students, fitting in CPE and internship, when to move and when to stay, we are not done. While this was a goal, it was a goal with a purpose: serving God and serving others through ordained ministry.<br />
<br />
To be ordained means to be "set apart." Methodists and Lutherans firmly believe that all of God's children (all the baptized) are called to live lives of faithful service. Being ordained means to be a servant leader, giving one's life over in service to God and others. Being ordained means being ministers of Word and Sacrament. We are called to study and learn, to teach and preach, to reach out into the world and do God's work. We are called to carefully use God's living word and God's gifts of bread, wine, and water. We are called to marry and bury. And through all this, we are called to point to God rather than ourselves, working for God's Kingdom rather than our own fame or gain.<br />
<br />
Many people have asked over the years how Wes and I would be able to pull off being pastors in two different denominations. Now that we have arrived at this new beginning, we have reached what seems to be the easiest part of this journey so far. We no longer have to navigate the challenging waters of candidacy, we no longer have to tread lightly while honoring our commitment to this family, and we no longer have to take turns so that one of us could work while the other studied, etc.<br />
<br />
The most difficult part is--and always has been--spending Sunday mornings apart. Not only are we challenged to truly worship while also leading worship. We are also challenged by missing our spouses, by lacking joint experiences of worshipping God. We are bound together and yet stretched apart, responsible for our own congregations as well as juggling an almost three-year-old. I doubt this will get any easier. However, I look forward to continuing to navigate this path together.<br />
<br />
<b>Wes:</b> Forgive me readers, for I have failed you. It's been... I don't even know how long since my last blog post.<br />
<br />
But today's topic is well known. I feel like I've talked about this a lot, but I'm going to share with y'all a truth from my inmost being. If you don't feel like we are close enough for secret-sharing, then I have two things to say to you:<br />
<br />
1. Why are you taking my confession if you won't allow me to confess?<br />
<br />
2. Please stop reading here. The following is only for those close enough to allow me to secret-share all over the place.<br />
<br />
I can only assume that, since you are still reading, you and I are the best of friends, and what I am writing will probably not be any big unveiling for you. We're best friends, so you already know all of the skeletons in my closet. (The ones I stole from the biology classroom!)<br />
<br />
But here it is anyway. My secret. You see, I have been pursuing ordination in the United Methodist Church for a long time. Like the majority of my life, this has been my vocational goal. I have immersed myself in the life of the church, both local and connectional, joined (either by invitation or sheer force of will) different ministry teams and councils, endured a rigorous theological education to attain two pieces of card stock paper with my name and a degree written upon them (one of them in Latin!), and jumped through all of the fiery hoops of candidacy. And I'll be honest with you: my intentions were not always pure.<br />
<br />
You see, clergy get special parking spots at hospitals.<br />
<br />
That's right. I put myself through all the rigamarole of this process for a parking spot that might be a little bit closer than the public parking when I need to go visit people who are sick. Sure, most of them are my parishioners, and sure, I wouldn't need the parking spot if I had chosen a profession that didn't bring me to such a place on a regular basis, but that doesn't change the facts. And, included in the facts is the truth I have already stated in the above paragraph: special parking spots.<br />
<br />
This might not be the only reason I felt that this was the calling for me, but it's somewhere up there. There was another reason as well, but then I found out that not all clergy get to wear Pope Hats. Apparently that's just... the Pope...<br />
<br />
Oh well.<br />
<br />
That's all the confessioning for now. Until next time, you stay classy, World Wide Web.<br />
<br />
<br />
-jess and wes<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-60664315899348942552015-04-25T17:11:00.003-07:002015-04-25T17:11:40.922-07:00Breaking the silence<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Jess: </b>So I
already have a blog written about miscarriage. I expect to write many more over
the years because it is an experience that just doesn’t go away. But I just
found out that this week in National Infertility Awareness Week. So let’s talk
about that. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are all kinds of ways to be infertile. You can simply
be unable to conceive, period. You might only be able to have a baby with the
help of a surrogate. You might only be able to reproduce through IVF. You may
already have one or three or six children but have been actively trying to have
another and its just not happening. Or you can get pregnant (easily or
otherwise) only to have one or three or six losses. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ever since losing our second child in October, I have been
on several boards dedicated to connecting people who have experienced losses in
pregnancy. I don’t know where I would be without that kind of support. And yet
I had to actively seek out that support</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why are we silent about fertility issues? We are overjoyed
when we get to share in new life. Yet we don’t know what to say to those who
want, but cannot seem to produce, their own children. We don’t know what to say
when we find out that our friends have been trying for over a year and cannot
get pregnant. We don’t know how to respond when we find out our neighbors will <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never </i>have children of their own. And we
certainly don’t know how to comfort those who become pregnant only to miscarry,
or have a stillbirth. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Approximately half of all pregnancies end in miscarriage. At
least one third of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">known </i>pregnancies
do not result in live children. This is not some rare disease or issue that
affects a few people in every 100,000. It’s more common than the flu. And that’s
not including those who are struggling with other infertility issues. When a loved
one has the flu, we know how to respond: we are careful about our own hygiene,
we bring them liquids, we allow them to rest. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How can we respond to those with infertility issues? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1) Listen. Listen if they want to share about infertility or
not. Let them know that you are there. Sometimes talking about fertility
challenges is impossible. I still get choked up talking about miscarriage.
Listen to whatever they have to say. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2) Express your sympathy in writing. We received a handful
of letters/notes from people after our miscarriage. Some people simply sent a
gift with no note or reason. What a beautiful way to acknowledge our need for
community and also our need for privacy. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3) Ask what the individual and family need. We have friends
who had trouble conceiving who didn’t want to be around pregnant women. I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cannot </i>get enough of babies, even when
I’m struggling with my own inability to have another. Figure out what they need
and do your best to get it for them. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
4) Continue to check in. My miscarriage was over six months
ago. But the due date for that baby is only about 6 weeks away. I should be fat
with child and miserable right now. Instead, I’m looking at June 15 with worry
and sadness. Even when the due date passes, even if I get pregnant and have another
child, the one who was supposed to be born on June 15, 2015 won’t be here. That
date will feel much like the day my grandma died, or the day that I broke up
with my high school boyfriend. The pain might ease with time but we will never
get to know that child. For those struggling with infertility, each month
without getting pregnant is a reminder. The pain is real and constant. Be
there. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Wes: </b>I don’t know
much about anatomy and physiology. I don’t know really anything at all about
biology. But I can honestly say that I know way too much about T.V. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Growing up, and even through college. I used to wonder why
so many of my favorite shows had storylines at some point in their multi-season
run that had something to do with having problems getting pregnant or with
miscarriages. The one that comes to mind immediately is Scrubs. Turk and Carla
try for so long to have a baby, and nothing seems to be happening the way it
should. Carla wants Turk to be tested to see if something is wrong with his
“swimmers”, but she wants to it secretly, because:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><br /><!--[endif]--></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB_J7sLYsh-FL7JoxisjGAQ7iKbtc8EDh4Qm4Uz3Jk0AhgyKXMqvjuYVJyjXBgT-93VVh0hv542QySTrVixt5gF901X_H0fo2BYmBI8EoOjYgbzHuchiOr924HeWWf4jaSA09I0FpmFljY/s1600/Carla.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB_J7sLYsh-FL7JoxisjGAQ7iKbtc8EDh4Qm4Uz3Jk0AhgyKXMqvjuYVJyjXBgT-93VVh0hv542QySTrVixt5gF901X_H0fo2BYmBI8EoOjYgbzHuchiOr924HeWWf4jaSA09I0FpmFljY/s1600/Carla.png" height="320" width="145" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Carla is afraid that Turk will view a chanced infertility
reading as an attack on his masculinity. And she’s right. He does:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPZRRXHc2jzJGDXIbm5OgliAA5aV6xQjUDBB411UINzSPUTs7J9aIesbriTGA1rjYMkAT63J8NBKF9rHh46zi29DQnM0HNy_BRMfsRQbiYCMEp5UYVBKKexsA2cvT5L-ddzgGGp4QWKmGQ/s1600/Turk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPZRRXHc2jzJGDXIbm5OgliAA5aV6xQjUDBB411UINzSPUTs7J9aIesbriTGA1rjYMkAT63J8NBKF9rHh46zi29DQnM0HNy_BRMfsRQbiYCMEp5UYVBKKexsA2cvT5L-ddzgGGp4QWKmGQ/s1600/Turk.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><br /><!--[endif]--></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Even Carla won’t talk about it with just anybody. She only
broaches the subject with one person, her best friend. So embarrassing is this
issue that it immediately makes one person feel like less of a man and the
other feel like she has to act in secret. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And Scrubs is not alone in broaching this subject. Friends
does it. Boy Meets World does it. Smallville. Lost. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The list goes on. And I couldn’t figure out why these shows
would take airtime, budget, and entertainment risk to deal with such a…
personal… and… rare… thing. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then we miscarried. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And it was just awful. And in the midst of the pain, and in
the midst of anger, and in the midst of the loss, I found myself thinking back
to Turk, in his underwear, curled up in the fetal position on the bathroom
floor. Rocking back and forth and questioning himself, the pain and the
heartache present even in the midst of a comedy show. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And I can honestly say that I’ve never felt more thankful
for courageous, real television. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is a reason that these shows touch on such harsh,
uncomfortable moments of life: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">because
they are life</i>. Problems of infertility and miscarriages are all around us.
I am sure that if I were to take a blind survey of everyone in my community—and
the people were to answer honestly—I would find that almost every family in
Kyle has been impacted in some way by this issue, either personally or
indirectly by someone close to them. I am sure that I would also find out that
the majority of these families and individuals don’t talk about it at all,
either because it is too painful, too embarrassing, or, more likely, a mixture of
both. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have</i> to
talk about it. It’s life. And we are meant to live life in community. Strength
is found in numbers, and by leaning upon the support and encouragement of
others in our times of distress. Because the truth is that we are not alone in
this pain, and it is time for us to stop acting as if we were. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Let’s learn a lesson from Scrubs. Let’s be courageous enough
to talk about this, and find support in each other. </div>
Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-71376786179479959202015-02-19T13:34:00.003-08:002015-02-19T13:34:11.512-08:00Lent, 2015 Edition<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><b>Jess:</b> Lent is upon us. If you want to take two minutes to learn a little about Lent, here you go: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m3L3c23MfC0</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">As the video states, fasting is a big part of what Lent is about. In the Roman Catholic Church, this means no meat on Fridays. In some traditions, it means literally fasting on certain days, in particular Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. Many Christians have changed the meaning to fasting from something that holds an important place in their lives--chocolate, meat, swearing, judgment, etc. The point is to redirect our thoughts from those things that are not God. I have given up many things over Lent: junk food, TV, Facebook, etc. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Increasingly, Wes and I have seen Lent as a way to establish good, faithful practices. During our marriage, we have...studied the Bible, gone through a marriage renewal book, established a Sabbath time, deliberately reduced our possessions, and refrained from spending money on non-essential items. Each of these practices was a recognition of how rich we are, how we are called to use our blessings to be a blessing to others, and to develop habits. Some of these habits have continued. There is still much work to be done, and we definitely have lapses. There are times when we find ourselves eating out several times a week; at this point, we reconsider what we are doing with what is God's. These practices remind us that we are stewards of everything God has given us. Nothing, not time, possessions, bodies, or even talents are ours--they are from God and are to be used for God's work. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">This year, I will be doing a combined Lenten discipline for the purpose of better using the time with which God has entrusted me. First, I will not be on Facebook until after James goes to sleep at night, if at all. I see Facebook as a great tool that has the potential to take over our lives. There is so much good that can come with interacting with others on social media--I have given and received advice, recipes, challenges, news, and much more. I want to hone in on that, rather than entertain myself with reading about other peoples' lives. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Second, I will be consciously reinstating our Sabbath day on Saturday. This means no phones, no internet, and no homework. I won't be cleaning the house or doing laundry. Rather, I will focus on renewing my heart, mind, and soul and on being truly present with my family. The practice of Sabbath has been greatly beneficial to our lives. When I forget to practice Sabbath, I forget that six days is enough time in which to complete my work, and I start to convince myself that I need more and more time for work and less and less time for rest. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><b>Wes:</b> Lent is a great time of prayer, study, and introspection. It is a reminder that from dust we came to dust we shall return. When used properly, it should work to refocus your life on Christ each year through intentional practices that may even continue after the season is over. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">This year, I am working to be more aware of how God has blessed my life with so many wonderful people. I am going to try to be more vocally grateful for this in general. As for a specific practice, I have decided to show my appreciation and gratefulness to God by writing a letter a day to different people from my past and present who have helped to make me the person that I am. There are many more than 40 of these people, so I am certain that some will be left out (so don’t get mad when you don’t get one). My hope in all of this, though, is to become a more outwardly-thankful person and to improve at telling people how much they mean to me and how my life is different because of them. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I don’t have the greatest track record of keeping to my Lenten disciplines, but I’ll strive to stay on top of this one. For my sake, and for the sake of a God who has called me to engage all of creation with a thankful heart. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><i>So what are your plans for this Lenten season?</i></span></div>
Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-7748391109655111842015-02-05T09:42:00.002-08:002015-02-05T09:42:43.221-08:002014 Year-End Review<div class="MsoNormal">
2014 was a year filled with activity in the Cain household.
We started off the year with a bang, celebrating with friends and then going
off to celebrate our anniversary. In late January, Jess’ dad had surgery, so
the whole family traveled up to the frozen tundra of Michigan. James and Jess
spent two weeks helping to take care of Papa while he recovered. Although it
was freezing the entire time and Papa had some struggles, we mostly had a good
time. Jess hasn’t spent that much time with her dad in a row since I was in
high school and lived with him. It was great to have a chance to be with him,
and we have promised ourselves that we will visit more often. Plus, James <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">loves </i>Papa because Papa spoils his
grandson. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
During the rest of the late winter/early spring, we fell
back into our regular routines. Momma and Daddy worked Monday-Thursday as well
as Sunday. We all went to TLC for church on Saturdays, which was a nice time to
have as a family. Jess’ internship progressed well and moved into the second
half of that year. James got to spend the days with his Uncle Corbin, who lived
with us through the beginning of May. It was really great to have child care in
our home, and there are times when we wish we would have the funds to do that
in the future. We could schedule the days/times we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">actually </i>needed care. See, two pastors don’t have two 9-5
schedules, much less two matching schedules. It was nice to have someone who
could be there at 8 some days, 10 others, and in the evenings on still others.
James loved Uncle Corbin and getting to stay at home.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The spring got hectic quickly as Easter approached. We each
had multiple services each week, and Holy Week was so busy that we had to have
Jess’ mom come out and help us. No one complained about extra time with Grandma/grandson,
though! Between the two of us, we had 10 services from Thursday night through
Sunday morning. Five were on Easter itself. On top of the craziness of the
week, Wes’ church was struck by lightening on the Monday of Holy Week. We’re
certainly looking forward to the chance to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not
</i>do that this year, and hopefully deal with a little less electric fallout! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As the rush of Easter faded away, we moved on to the summer
activities. Jess headed up a retreat at TLC for the young families It was such
a success that they are planning a second one this year that will be bigger and
better! Both churches had VBS, and Jess attended Confirmation and elementary
camp. Wes went to Annual Conference, a giant church meeting that happens every
June, and Jess attended Synod Assembly, the same thing in the ELCA. James
started a new day care with a lovely woman named Diana. It was not as
convenient as having a live-in nanny but James loved Miss Diana, too!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then, in July, our college friends were dealt a pretty
painful blow. Our friend (and former nanny) Corbin committed suicide; we have a
wonderful group of close-knit friends from college. When we gather (like at New
Years’ Eve), we have at least 15 people every time, and we consider all of
these very close friends. They’re the first ones to find out about important
life events like engagements, new jobs, babies, etc. We have been together
through a lot of ups and downs for the last eight years. Losing one of our own
was extremely hard. Even six months later, we are still reeling—and honestly
the group will never be the same without Corbin’s wit and pop culture
knowledge. He was a wonderful man and will be dearly missed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As we moved back into “normal” life, the summer began to
wind down. Jess finished her internship with great joy and great sadness.
Although she is still glad to be home with James each day, working at TLC was
wonderful. Her internship was a great asset to her future in ministry and has
honestly made her spoiled in terms of working on a staff! Wes finished his
first year of residence in ministry in July, and is plugging right along toward
ordination. James was overjoyed to get to spend every day with Momma, although
he still points out Miss Diana’s house when we drive by. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The last few months of the year were packed with activity,
as well. Wes’ church is going full-steam ahead, Jess completed her
second-to-last-semester of seminary, and James turned two! Although his
newfound independence, rapid growth, and vast intelligence can all be
challenging at times, he is a sweet-hearted boy. He is sympathetic to those
around him, whether people or animals. He knows all his letters, can count
almost to ten, knows how to break through any toddler-protection device and
LOVES TRUCKS AND TRAINS! We are constantly amazed and overjoyed to be his
parents. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The fall also brought some tough times. Jess’ great-uncle
was diagnosed with prostate cancer (making the cancer count 2 in less than a
year for Jess’ family) and will be undergoing surgery in February. We
discovered Jess was pregnant in October, only to find out that she had
miscarried a few weeks later. We were devastated and will lament the loss of
this precious baby. There was a lot of travel and James’ patience got stretched
a few times. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Overall, the Cains had an interesting year. It has been one
of the most challenging for all of us, and perhaps the most difficult in some
ways since our marriage. Yet through it we have also become a closer-knit
family. We have cheered for Wes as he has passed milestones in his ministry and
worked to become healthier. We have celebrated with Jess as she was approved
for ordination and moves closer to finishing school. We have jumped for joy with
James as he has learned to walk, talk, and be an ever more independent person.
Life will continue to throw curveballs at us, but we know that through faith
and with each other, we can persevere and thrive. What a wonderful time to be
the Cains!</div>
Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-9300422590971278342014-11-25T14:18:00.000-08:002014-11-25T14:18:12.162-08:00Why We Need the Christmas Spirit<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jess:</span></b><b><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></b><span style="font-family: Calibri;">On Thursday, we went
to see the Trans-Siberian Orchestra (TSO). This is the second time Wes and I
have had the opportunity to do this, and it was just as awesome as the last
time. </span><span style="font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Many of you probably know that TSO's fame revolves around its
Christmas music and "winter" (Christmas) tour. You might also know
that I'm pretty bah-humbug about Christmas starting before Thanksgiving.
Despite all of Wes' begging, I don't listen to Christmas music, put up
decorations, or prepare for Christmas in any way until the weekend after
Thanksgiving. Most of the time, that means the day or two before Advent begins,
which is still a little early for me. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But at the TSO concert, I had a Christmas epiphany. Suddenly I
realized why people, despite complaints, want to put up their decorations, have
a little snow, talk about presents, and plan gatherings earlier and earlier. <i>We
need Christmas spirit.</i></span><i><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></i><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We live in a pretty
scary, messed up world. People are rude, mean, and downright cruel to each
other. But something changes at Christmas. Now I'm not saying that everything
magically gets better, but there is a magical quality of the Christmas season.
People are different, and they stay that way until New Year's Day. We need
Christmas. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">The problem is that the feelings, the happiness, the joy that we
have at Christmas because of parties, food, and presents is artificial. It
doesn't last. It can't last. And every year, it seems to wear off a little
earlier. And every year, we want to get started on it earlier so that maybe everything
will be alright in October and November as well as December. But singing
"Frosty the Snowman" and "Baby it's Cold Outside" can only
get us so far. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">That spark of Christmas spirit is great, but it's the message of
Christmas, the story of Christ's incarnation that we really need. We need to
know that God stepped into this world</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span><i><span style="font-family: Calibri;">for us</span></i><span style="font-family: Calibri;">, and that God cares</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span><i><span style="font-family: Calibri;">for us</span></i><span style="font-family: Calibri;">. We need to share this message with the world. Because the true
joy of Christmas isn't (as the Grinch would say) isn't about ribbons or tags, packages
boxes or bags! The joy of Christmas is that God birthed something new in the
world--something that would save us from ourselves and bring us into right
relationship with the Creator of all things. And THAT is a Spirit that sticks
around!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Wes:</span></b><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Jess wrote her part
of this blog about three weeks ago, and I’m just now getting around to writing
mine. Usually, this leads to what Jess wrote needing to be tweaked just a
little bit, because my laziness has meant that her post isn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">as</i> relevant as it could be. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">This time, though, I think the opposite it true. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">This time, I think her words might be even more important, for
very different reasons. You see, last night, a grand jury in Missouri decided
not to indict a police officer on charges for the murder of a young man. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">You know the story. It’s just about everywhere on the news right
now. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">And my Facebook home page seems to be split into three groups:
those who don’t care at all about what happened, those who want to make sure
that everyone knows why what happened was the absolute correct thing to have
happened, and those who want to make sure that everyone knows just unjust a
thing happened. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Wow, do we need Jesus. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">We are living in an Advent world right now, one that is full of
apathy, extremes, and brokenness. One that is unjust, painful, and desperately
seeking salvation. One that needs Emmanuel. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">And this is where the church must step in and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">be</i> the Christmas spirit. Not the
Walmart-branded, holly-jolly-sing-a-long spirit, but the spirit of joy that comes
to a world in great need of it. In the midst of death, we need to hear again
that unto us a child is born. In the midst of injustice, we need to be reminded
that unto us a son is given. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">We need more than Buzzfeed articles about the “12 Best Holiday
Bacon Recipes”. We need more than heavily subjective editorials toting one
side’s ideals over another’s. We need more than a social media. We need Jesus. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is why I love Christmas, and I love Christmas music. I
crave so badly the manger scene, the star in the sky, and the babe wrapped in
swaddling clothes because I know how badly this world is craving it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">We crave it in places like Ferguson, MO. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">And we as Christians have been called to prepare the way for
Christmas. To make straight in the wildernesses of the world the paths of our
Lord. In this Advent world, I pray we will engage in this task with love. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Because we need Jesus. We need Christmas. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">O come, O come, Emmanuel. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-size: 15pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-53551499646429666142014-10-22T19:06:00.004-07:002014-10-22T19:09:33.179-07:00Walking with James<span style="background-color: #073763;"><b style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15.5555562973022px; line-height: 21.3000011444092px;">Jess: </b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15.5555562973022px; line-height: 21.3000011444092px;">James and I take a walk almost every single day. Sometimes we take several walks in the same day. And every walk goes the same way:</span></span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15.5555562973022px; line-height: 21.3000011444092px;">
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br style="line-height: 21.3000011444092px;" /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15.5555562973022px; line-height: 21.3000011444092px;">
<span style="background-color: #073763;">Me: "James, do you want to go to the (library, park, store...)?" </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15.5555562973022px; line-height: 21.3000011444092px;">
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br style="line-height: 21.3000011444092px;" /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15.5555562973022px; line-height: 21.3000011444092px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPjDaTQeg8ZGZ06Ixpd6oTJEXCgFCATXN1NDYJDNlO90N63U5e2kXkl3X5v55RWHJv1_92V3GJWhuSNQOtwJ06o9b7hGO2wIbtX0-VrGYDI-YvgYNXpYyVxj4W5k249HVcp-LPl-yrql5I/s1600/2014-09-30+19.18.54.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: #073763; color: black;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPjDaTQeg8ZGZ06Ixpd6oTJEXCgFCATXN1NDYJDNlO90N63U5e2kXkl3X5v55RWHJv1_92V3GJWhuSNQOtwJ06o9b7hGO2wIbtX0-VrGYDI-YvgYNXpYyVxj4W5k249HVcp-LPl-yrql5I/s1600/2014-09-30+19.18.54.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></span></a><span style="background-color: #073763;">James: Runs to the door and leaves. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15.5555562973022px; line-height: 21.3000011444092px;">
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br style="line-height: 21.3000011444092px;" /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15.5555562973022px; line-height: 21.3000011444092px;">
<span style="background-color: #073763;">M: Quickly run out the door to stop James from fleeing without socks, shoes, or sunscreen. Wrestle James back into the garage and get these things on him. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15.5555562973022px; line-height: 21.3000011444092px;">
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br style="line-height: 21.3000011444092px;" /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15.5555562973022px; line-height: 21.3000011444092px;">
<span style="background-color: #073763;">J: Runs out of the garage, but "patiently" waits at the end of the driveway.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15.5555562973022px; line-height: 21.3000011444092px;">
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br style="line-height: 21.3000011444092px;" /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15.5555562973022px; line-height: 21.3000011444092px;">
<span style="background-color: #073763;">M: Alright, let's go to the (previously determined location)!</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15.5555562973022px; line-height: 21.3000011444092px;">
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br style="line-height: 21.3000011444092px;" /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15.5555562973022px; line-height: 21.3000011444092px;">
<span style="background-color: #073763;">J: Takes three steps, then, "TRUCK!!!!"</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15.5555562973022px; line-height: 21.3000011444092px;">
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br style="line-height: 21.3000011444092px;" /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15.5555562973022px; line-height: 21.3000011444092px;">
<span style="background-color: #073763;">M: "A green pickup truck, that's right!"</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15.5555562973022px; line-height: 21.3000011444092px;">
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br style="line-height: 21.3000011444092px;" /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15.5555562973022px; line-height: 21.3000011444092px;">
<span style="background-color: #073763;">J: Stops to pick up a stick, then proceeds to scrape the dirt out of every crack in the sidewalk for the rest of the walk. "BUS!"</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE84hyt-exFbTuuOtGLXo7wTSLAB_E8ymtG64Fu_FTeSdRzwTLd3gIVThQ9U6I69Ym7JpSKTnCbifhUhYx_cCSgSJCPVKKanBGy5gblAzOniq7EifuMW3K96qN6jbDM7RNpj811IWvr8Hi/s1600/2014-09-30+19.17.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="background-color: #073763; color: black;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE84hyt-exFbTuuOtGLXo7wTSLAB_E8ymtG64Fu_FTeSdRzwTLd3gIVThQ9U6I69Ym7JpSKTnCbifhUhYx_cCSgSJCPVKKanBGy5gblAzOniq7EifuMW3K96qN6jbDM7RNpj811IWvr8Hi/s1600/2014-09-30+19.17.08.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #073763;">M: That's right, a school bus!"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #073763;">J: Wanders off the sidewalk into the grass, discovers it is wet and then gets mildly frustrated. "TRUCK!"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #073763;">M: "A concrete mixer!"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #073763;">The rest of the journey goes pretty much the same. Usually, it takes us 4-5 times as long to reach our destination as it would if I was by myself. Sometimes, when we finally make it to the park, James doesn't actually want to do anything there. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #073763;"><i style="line-height: 21.3000011444092px;">Sometimes, I get frustrated with James when we're making these excruciatingly long journeys. But most days, when I think about how fast he is growing or about how precious he is, or just how much fun I have with him, I treasure our walks. This time is short. In fact, it's almost gone. One day, James will be in a rush just like the rest of us. I hope he'll occasionally stop to think like I do--"What in the world am I rushing for? This walk </i>is <i style="line-height: 21.3000011444092px;">the point. It's time to enjoy it."<br />
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Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-48669434572854856422014-08-25T15:24:00.001-07:002014-08-25T15:24:11.704-07:00Letter to Corbin<div class="MsoNormal">
I regret that I will never be able to talk to you about T.V.
shows anymore. I never told you, but I would silently refer to you as my own
personal T.V. Guide. You knew when was on, if it would be worth watching, and
could even schedule for me an entire evening’s worth of programming. I trusted
my viewing pleasure to you implicitly. I regret that I will never have to feel
shameful about watching guilty pleasure shows anymore, because you won’t be
there to roll your eyes at me and remind me that there are so many better
series I could be watching instead. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I regret that we didn’t spend more time together one-on-one.
One of my most cherished memories of adulthood was us going to TJ’s Burgers in
New Braunfels, eating lunch, then driving over an hour round-trip to and from
my house to get tubes so we could then go float the Comal River. It was an
unnecessary trip in the car, but our conversations and time spent catching up
after years apart was just what I needed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I regret that we will never again get to re-enact
J.D.-and-Turk EEEAAGLE moments in crowded places. I will never forget the
awkward, uncomfortable look on the faces of those two women who were trying to
eat a nice, quiet meal outside in downtown Philly as you ran up and I lifted
you above my head as if we were some figure-skating duet. Jess, Russell, and
Mary-Ellen laughed so hard, and so did we. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I regret that your time living with Jess, James, and me was
so short, and that there were so many tense moments as we tried to figure out
how a single guy was supposed to share space with a family of three. All of us
got annoyed and frustrated at different times, but it truly was a blessing
having you play such a pivotal role in our lives, especially in James’ early
life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I regret that James, who loved his Uncle Corbin and had so
much fun with you, has probably already forgotten you entirely. He will not
have the chance to get to know you as a little boy, as a growing adolescent,
and as a young man. You had such a strong influence in such an important developmental
stage, but now you are gone from his life. I regret that this is true not only
for my son, but for your true niece and nephew as well. They will never know
their Uncle Corbin, and that is so, so sad, for you were absolutely worth
knowing. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I regret that every time our group of friends gathers
together, there will be a noticeable and impossible-to-ignore gap. You were a
major part of our lives. Even though you chose to hold a supporting character
role in most of our group functions, you were always there, and we will not be
the same group without you. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I regret that, over a month removed from you taking your own
life, I still feel guilt and shame. I regret that I didn’t do more to tell you
that you were loved and needed. I regret that—as a trained pastoral counselor—I
didn’t see any signs that you were this far gone. I regret that I didn’t do
anything or say anything that could have stopped you from killing yourself.
Even though I know this was no way my fault, I still feel that shame. I still
find myself asking, “What should I have done?” I still wonder how it might have
been different. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I regret that I am still so mad at you for doing this. Even
in the midst of the shame and guilt, I also cannot help but still be angry.
What you did was selfish. What you did feels cowardly. What you did shows a
lack of hope that I do not want to believe you experienced. And what makes this
so hard is that you were none of these things. You were one of the most
selfless people I knew, and I don’t know of a single person who could honestly
say you were at all cowardly. And to believe that you had lost all hope—in God,
in your loved ones, and in yourself—is heartbreaking in and of itself. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I regret that so many of our friends are feeling this shame,
guilt, and anger as well. I have read enough about survivor's guilt to know that it hits harder for those who encounter suicide than maybe any other type of death. There will always be the question of "What if?" that plays through our minds, and even though we will strive to remember you lovingly, the feeling of abandonment will be present with us forever. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I regret that you felt like you couldn't seek help when any of us would have done anything for you. If you could only have known how loved you were, you
might have realized that there <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was</i>
still hope, that there <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was</i> still a
reason to go on. If you could only have known how much we cared, maybe you
would have said something to someone—anyone!—and maybe you would have received
that help that you so obviously needed. You might have felt like it, but I can guarantee you that were not alone. We would have dropped anything to be there for you, and we would have done anything to help you find healing. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am thankful for the time we had together. I am thankful
that you loved my son and treated him like family. I am thankful that for a few
years at least, I had the blessing of calling you friend. I will miss you
dearly, Corbin, as will Jess, Ryan, Russell, and the rest of our giant group of
friends from TLU. I look forward to the day that I get to see you again,
clothed in the glory of God and completely restored to wholeness. I sincerely hope
that you have found in death the peace that you were missing in life, and I pray
that God will reveal to you the impact you had on so many lives, mine included,
in the short time you were with us. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love you, my friend.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-67823248599596263932014-07-30T09:13:00.001-07:002014-07-30T09:16:03.364-07:00How do you say goodbye? Part I<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Jess: </b>It’s been almost three weeks since our friend Corbin took his own life, and I just now feel like I can put words down about it. I just now feel like I have my thoughts sorted out enough to write.<br /><br />Corbin has been our friend since 2006. He and Wes were in the same class in college, he dated one of our other friends, and he was roommates with others. He came to our wedding. He and two of our other friends were our first out-of-state visitors when Wes and I moved to New Jersey. He helped us move into our house in Kyle. Most recently, he was James’ live-in nanny for six months during this crazy year.<br /><br />And now there will be no new stories about Corbin. When our next friends get married or have babies, Corbin won’t be there to celebrate. When we gather together for New Year’s and other events, Corbin won’t be with us. There is going to be a hole in our lives forever.<br /><br />We have a really tight-knit group of about 20 friends from college. Many of us married each other, we have all lived with various individuals or sets of the group, some are siblings, we get together once a month on Skype or Google+ to talk, and when we come together for an event, it’s like no time has passed since the last time we were together. There are people in this world who are lucky to have just one friend like that. And we have 20!<br /><br />The upside to this during the last few weeks has been that we have had one another to fall back on. Most of us were able to attend the funeral and be together for that time.<br /><br />The downside is that every single one of us feels this loss deeply. We’re never going to be the same.<br /><br />And you know what? I’m mad. I’m mad that Corbin, surrounded by this wonderful group of friends, didn’t feel like he could talk to us about his struggles. I’m mad that he did this incredibly selfish thing. I’m mad that there was probably nothing we could have done and definitely nothing we can do now.<br /><br />And I’m deeply, deeply sad. I’m sad that my friend is gone. I’m sad for the hole we will always feel because of this loss. I’m sad that James, who loved having his Uncle Corbin right in the next room, will never really get to know him. I’m sad that Corbin’s parents, sister, grandparents, etc. had to go through this and will have to deal with his loss for the rest of their lives. I’m sad that his nephew and niece won’t know him. I’m sad for what the world lost—a brilliant, funny, witty, sweet, fun, wonderful man. I’m sad that we won’t get to celebrate his marriage or the birth of his children, that we won’t be able to support him during the tough times and rejoice during the wonderful ones.<br /><br />But, through all the anger and sadness, the guilt and the confusion, I remember one thing. We read Romans 8 during Corbin’s funeral, and the words that will never be the same to me have cropped up seemingly everywhere in the intervening weeks: “For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Corbin’s death doesn’t separate him from the love of God. Neither does it, ultimately, separate him from us. We will see Corbin again, and just think of all the things we’ll have to tell him!<br /><br />(Wes will be writing at a later time)</span>Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-44730194819464967962014-07-02T11:56:00.002-07:002014-07-02T11:58:26.947-07:00What's the main thing?<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.299999237060547px; margin-bottom: 1.35em;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 22.719999313354492px;"><b>Jess:</b><span class="ecxapple-converted-space"> </span></span><span style="line-height: 22.719999313354492px;">It’s been awhile since we’ve bothered to do a blog on any sort of current event, but we've been talking a lot about the Hobby Lobby suit. If you don’t know what happened, <a href="http://consumerist.com/2014/06/30/supreme-court-rules-for-hobby-lobby-in-contraception-case/" target="_blank">here’s a summary</a> of the action.</span></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.299999237060547px; margin-bottom: 1.35em;">
<span style="line-height: 22.719999313354492px;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The internet was afire with responses to this decision seconds after it was announced. As the Justice Ginsburg stated, this decision seems to open the way for all sorts of “religions” and “religious reasons” for not following federal laws. This is a huge concern for many, and it is definitely one that bothers me. What if I worked for a company owned by Christians who think women should be submissive to their husbands, never seeking employment outside of the home? Is this religious belief also covered?</span></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.299999237060547px; margin-bottom: 1.35em;">
<span style="line-height: 22.719999313354492px;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wes and I will get our insurance through our religious entity. Thankfully, neither Lutherans nor Methodists are against birth control—in fact we both <a href="http://download.elca.org/ELCA%20Resource%20Repository/SexualitySM.pdf%20see%20page%204" target="_blank">support it</a> as a responsible way to engage in sexual activity. But if birth control were not covered, we would have the means to cover it from our own pockets. Many are not so lucky—particularly those who work in low-paying retail jobs. And the fact of the matter is that people working in these jobs, who cannot afford to purchase birth control, also cannot afford to support a child.</span></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.299999237060547px; margin-bottom: 1.35em;">
<span style="line-height: 22.719999313354492px;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I recently heard someone say that many people who claim to be pro-life are actually pro-birth. The thought of ending life before it truly begins goes against everything they believe in, and so they work against it. I think that upholding the sacredness of human life is definitely an important value, and one that Christians should have. We believe that we are made in the image of our Creator, so we are called to treat others as if they<span class="ecxapple-converted-space"> </span><i>were<span class="ecxapple-converted-space"> </span></i>God. And yet, there is more to life than being born. There is also more at stake for pregnant women than we acknowledge.</span></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.299999237060547px; margin-bottom: 1.35em;">
<span style="line-height: 22.719999313354492px;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My concern is manifold. First, a group of people who happen to own a profit-making company are forcing their ideals on anyone who works there. They now have control over what their insurance supports and what kind of coverage individuals get. Although I support Hobby Lobby for other decisions its owners make on religious principles (being closed on Sundays and holidays so that, at least from their end, employees are guaranteed days off; paying a<span class="ecxapple-converted-space"> </span><i>living<span class="ecxapple-converted-space"> </span></i>wage; a CEO who isn’t a complete glutton), religious views should not allow a profit-making company to avoid obeying the law. Secondly, I am concerned for all the Hobby Lobby employees who will not get coverage they might need and therefore bring children into the world that they cannot support. Thirdly, I do not like the implication that any one person (or group’s) religious views should dictate the lives of others.</span></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.299999237060547px; margin-bottom: 1.35em;">
<span style="line-height: 22.719999313354492px;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But more than any of that, there is something deeply wrong with a theology that decides that all people need to have children simply because that is the outcome (<i>for some</i>) of sexual intercourse. Yes, God told us to “be fruitful and multiply,” but God said this in the context of an unpopulated world. What we frequently neglect is the second part of God’s command that says, “fill the earth and subdue it.” You know what? We<span class="ecxapple-converted-space"> </span><i>have<span class="ecxapple-converted-space"> </span></i>filled the earth. We are now at the point of overfilling, and therefore destroying, the earth. Not everyone needs to have children. Certainly not everyone needs to have the maximum amount of children possible. For some people, that is good. For others, not having children is good. Some people desperately want to have children and can’t. Others desperately want to stop having children and are now facing one more roadblock on that road. Perhaps we should be less concerned about what every woman’s uterus is doing (or not doing) and more concerned with how we are doing with that whole caring for creation thing…</span></span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.299999237060547px; margin-bottom: 1.35em;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Wes:</b> I heard someone say this week that anyone who will not allow the use of contraceptives and anyone who is vehemently against every kind of abortion and yet does not have a home full of adopted children is a hypocrite and a liar.</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.299999237060547px; margin-bottom: 1.35em;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m going to let that sink in for a second, because it took a second for it to sink in when I first heard it.</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.299999237060547px; margin-bottom: 1.35em;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now, I don’t think I would go that far, but it does bring up a very good point. We focus on the microcosm of the uterus quite a lot, and seem to miss the macrocosm of injustice around us.</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.299999237060547px; margin-bottom: 1.35em;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We talk a lot in the church world about the sanctity of life. Life is a gift from God, and we need to cherish it. Jesus Christ came so that we might have life, and have it abundantly. This is one vein of the argument against birth control and abortion—one that I’ve heard many times. And you know what? I could not agree more. Life <i>is</i> sacred. We should be doing everything we can to make sure that everyone alive has a chance to live the most amazing life possible.</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.299999237060547px; margin-bottom: 1.35em;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So why is it that our country—our world!—is full of children without homes?</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.299999237060547px; margin-bottom: 1.35em;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So why is it that we allow poverty and homelessness to ruin lives and run rampant around us?</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.299999237060547px; margin-bottom: 1.35em;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So why is it that we are not giving of our excess to those who do not have enough to feed their families?</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.299999237060547px; margin-bottom: 1.35em;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Are not all of these things effecting and impeding the sanctity of life, and life lived to its fullest?</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.299999237060547px; margin-bottom: 1.35em;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why is it that the majority of my Facebook friends—myself and other pastors included—are paying more attention to the World Cup than we are about the fact that the ISIS, a group so militant that the Al Qaeda called them extremists, has carved out a chunk of land in the Middle East and is ruling by brute force?</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.299999237060547px; margin-bottom: 1.35em;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why is it that the church in the US presents itself as caring more about Hobby Lobby and birth control than we care about the fact that peace talks in the Ukraine and Israel/Palestine have once again broken down into violent attacks?</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.299999237060547px; margin-bottom: 1.35em;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We—and by “we” I mean Christians in the USA today—have a problem with picking and choosing the wrong hills upon which to die. Our triage system is broken, and our justice sensors are too busy focusing on the (wrongfully perceived) persecution of a people <i>who were told that they would be persecuted</i> to see that the world is dying around us and we are doing <i>next to nothing</i> to preserve the sanctity of that life.</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.299999237060547px; margin-bottom: 1.35em;">
<span style="background-color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is a problem. And it’s a problem I know I am guilty of spreading. I just hope I am in some way contributing more to the solution.</span></div>
Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-58707759694362602892014-06-02T08:03:00.000-07:002014-06-02T08:04:33.401-07:00Holy Communion, Batman!<b>Wes: </b>Jess and I like to pretend that there is a great deal of animosity and divide between our two denominations. We like to do this, honestly, because it's kind of fun. We get to fake argue over the merits of minute, trivial aspects of our theology that, in the long run, doesn't make that much of a difference to our identities as Methodist and Lutheran or as husband and wife. But there is one difference between our two denominations that causes a little bit of tension for us. <br />
<br />
Not between us, but for us. <br />
<br />
You see, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America has a relatively open table regarding Holy Communion. Any baptized Christian is welcome to come up and receive the elements, experience Jesus Christ present in, with, under, and around the bread and wine, and participate again in the grace present in this meal. It doesn't matter if you are Lutheran, Methodist, Baptist, Catholic, or Orthodox. It doesn't matter if you attend every Sunday or are sparse at best, if you give all you can to the Kingdom of God or don't consider tithing important, if you read your Bible daily or leave it in the corner to collect dust. If you've been baptized, and you believe that Jesus is Lord, you are welcome. <br />
<br />
Which is awesome. But it's not enough for me. <br />
<br />
Because Methodists enjoy a completely open table. Any and everyone is welcomed to come up and participate in this most holy of practices, because we believe that the Eucharist is a means of grace. It is possible for the first time one experiences God's love and glimpses grace for the first time to happen while engaging in this sacred meal! God can and has used this to change lives, and we do not believe that we have the authority to bar anyone from partaking. <br />
<br />
Which is why, every Sunday as I stand before the table, I remind my congregation that everyone is welcome. You don't have to be a member of KUMC, you don't have to be a United Methodist, you don't even have to be a Christian. For everything that needed to be done in this meal to make is holy and grace-infused happened over 2000 years ago when the Son of God died on the cross. There is nothing we can do or have done to earn a place at this table. Jesus paid it all for us. Therefore, any and all who are ready to take a step in faith and who wish to experience God's grace have a place at Jesus' table. <br />
<br />
There's the rub between the ELCA and the UMC. It's basically the only major doctrinal difference. What's funny, though, is that this is not now--nor will it ever be!--something that Jess and I argue about! We both agree that the Methodists do it better! (At least in this aspect. I'm still working to convince Jess that the UMC is right about everything else as well, and she's still trying--without success--to bring me over to the Dark Side). <br />
<br />
It's sometimes hard for me to go into a different denomination's church and know that some are restricted from receiving the bread and wine/juice. Now, I will say that the ELCA is not near as restrictive as others--there are some churches who demand you be a member of their specific congregation to receive!--but it is hard nonetheless. In a world where there are too many who have been rejected by the church, it is a struggle to see them barred from very meal that we use to celebrate Jesus' free gift to all. <br />
<br />
There are a lot of things that I think the UMC could do better. There are even some areas where I think reform and rejuvenation are necessary if we are continue being a vital church. But I thank God every day that we do this right. <br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Jess: </b>I have struggled with this question of how to properly handle Communion for many years, but this year in particular has been difficult for me. Wes is absolutely correct that we as Lutherans commune only those who are baptized. While I sometimes struggle with this, I am also at peace with it. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The disciples most likely didn't start having Communion until after Jesus ascended. This means they received the Great Commission (to go throughout the world baptizing) before they began the practice of Communion. My guess is that they were baptized first, so it makes sense that this is our position. Lutherans put a lot of emphasis on "good order." We like to make sure that the means of grace (Communion and Baptism) aren't just thrown around willy-nilly. We believe that Christ commanded these sacraments and is truly present in them. Therefore, only ordained pastors can "do" the sacraments; we want to make sure reverence is kept. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, I'm okay with the Lutheran understanding of keeping Communion after Baptism--first you are brought into the community, and then you share in the meal of the community. That's cool with me. What I have been struggling with is the idea that there is some perfect age at which children "know" or "understand" enough to be able to have Communion. We have no such expectation of Baptism. We emphasize God's work in action through the sacrament of Baptism, and yet we neglect to do so in Communion. We are content to have parents take on baptismal promises, but we're not willing to help them teach their children about Baptism. The most ridiculous part of this is that one of the baptismal promises is <i>about </i>Communion!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Most ELCA churches have some sort of age at which they have decided children are old enough to have Communion. At some point during the school year, those children (3rd graders or 1st graders or whatever) are invited to one or two classes about Communion, and then they receive it on the following Sunday. Other pastors have chosen to allow parents to come individually when they believe their children are "ready."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I have a huge problem with this. Yes, I absolutely believe that age-appropriate instruction regarding Communion is a must. I think it's a must across the board--from very young children to adults. We can always hear again about the grace we have received, and how we are receiving a tangible reminder of that grace in Communion. But we have absolutely no right to decide when a child is ready to receive the promise present in Communion. There is no age at which we fully "understand" what is happening in Communion--we Lutherans have many documents that admit this openly. If this is the case, then there is no point at which we should bar a baptized Christian from having Communion. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This has always weighed on my mind, but as I have had to watch James passed over each week (sometimes three times in the weekend) for Communion, I am absolutely positive that it's just plain wrong. Certainly, James has no idea what is going on as far as God's grace--he can't understand concepts like that. But he can absolutely understand that everyone else is being invited to share some bread and he is not. And he's 18 months old. Imagine how the 7-year-old who is "not ready" feels at being rejected like this. We are bringing up children who are learning that they are welcome to come to church, but they are not welcome to participate fully in the life of the church. We are raising children whose initial impressions of Communion revolve around being left out. This is not okay. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In Wes' church--but also in Methodist churches around the country--any child who holds out their hand receives Communion. It's okay if they ask this week but not next week. It's okay that they don't "know" what's going on. It's okay because, by being a part of this community meal, by hearing "This is to remind you that Jesus loves you," they are being accepted. And when they are accepted, they will stay around long enough to learn more about Jesus, to learn more about Communion, and to be disciples of Christ.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
(For more information on the ELCA's stance on Communion,<a href="http://download.elca.org/ELCA%20Resource%20Repository/The_Use_Of_The_Means_Of_Grace.pdf" target="_blank"> go here.</a>)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You stay classy, world wide web.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Wes and Jess</div>
Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-41327998385981888092014-04-30T09:03:00.002-07:002014-04-30T09:03:24.573-07:00A Metheran Easter<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 14.2pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Jess:<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></b>Last year, after attempting
Holy Week with a 4-month-old and two churches, we realized that we did not have
a sustainable model for the busiest week in a pastor’s year. I really don’t
know how we’ll handle Holy Week as the years go by. Once our kids are old
enough to stay home by themselves/be ready to go at a certain time, it will be
a different story. But for the foreseeable future, we’re going to be struggling
to balance parenthood and pastorhood during Holy Week.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 14.2pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 14.2pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">For those of you who are unaware, the typical Holy Week
looks something like this: a normal schedule Monday-Wednesday, which means
working more or less 9-5 or 8-4. Thursday evening includes some sort of service
or gathering. Depending on the size of the congregation and the traditions of
the surrounding area, Friday includes 1 or 2 services. Again, depending on the
church community, there may be some semblance of an Easter Vigil on Saturday,
which can range from 1-3 hours and go as late as 1 a.m. Then there is the
potential for an Easter sunrise service on Sunday, and definitely one or
(mostly likely) more services on Sunday morning. After this, the tradition is
for a pastor to collapse in exhaustion. Between us, Wes and I had 12 services
between the evening of Maundy Thursday and the afternoon of Easter (7 for me, 5
for him).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 14.2pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 14.2pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Besides the sheer number of services during Holy Week, there
is the prep work that goes into them. At least one of the services leading up
to Easter Sunday will have a sermon. An Easter Vigil sermon and an Easter
sunrise or regular service probably won’t have the same sermon. Had I been the
pastor of TLC, I would have preached three times in three days this weekend. At
smaller congregations, there may not be the same number of services, but there
are still bulletins to put together for each of them, and all the planning that
goes into the services, including decorations (or the lack thereof), music,
etc.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 14.2pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 14.2pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Wes and I both had enjoyable, worshipful weekends thanks to
my mom coming out and helping with James during this crazy week. We also took
the initiative to take Wednesday off so that we could rest up a little, knowing
that we wouldn’t have an opportunity to take Thursday off as usual. All in all,
although exhaustion definitely set in, I think it was a wonderful experience.
One of my only disappointments was that we didn’t get a chance to spend time
together in worship on Easter. Obviously, this is a reality most Sundays for
us, but it was more difficult to deal with on Easter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 14.2pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 14.2pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">One of the nice things about the nature of our work is that,
when everyone else is busier, we are generally not so much. Although Christmas
is a big deal, it’s not<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>that<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>busy for pastors—it’s generally
just one extra sermon and one extra evening of work. We have the blessing of
taking days off in the middle of the week, so we can go grocery shopping when
stores are empty, eat as a family at lunch special price, and catch up on TV
when it’s still almost new. We can go in late or come home early when necessary—or
to balance a late-night meeting or activity. We can still enjoy Saturday events
as a family. Although we have our challenges, every family does. We have
similar challenges to any family with two working spouses. And we get the joy
of growing in our relationship with Christ and others and getting paid for it!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Wes: </b>So something
ridiculous happened to me during Holy Week. In the midst of all of our business
and prep and trying to get things done while still spending intentional time
with the family and still spending life-giving time by ourselves and still working
on regular spiritual disciplines and still just trying to simply survive in the
midst of all of the chaos, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">our
church <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">was
struck<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">by
lightening. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Monday
morning, while our office administrator, Tanya Spain, and I were working away
on Easter prep, a lightening storm hit our community. We didn’t think much of
it other than that we were grateful that we were inside. Then came the thunder
clap that was so deafening that I… Okay, I’m going to level with you. I jumped
about three feet off of the ground. And I may or may not have yelped a little
bit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I
look over to Tanya’s office, across the building, and she is standing holding
her ears. Apparently the thunder clap was—get this!—accompanied by a lightening
bolt. A lightening bolt that traveled through wires, frying everything on the
West side of the building, and sending an enormous spark through the outlet
right at Tanya’s feet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">This
is what started my Holy Week. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Honestly,
after that, everything else was a walk in the park. With Jess’ mom here playing
with James, and so many wonderful people from the church jumping in to serve in
different ways, everything seemed to go off without too much of a hitch. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Other
than the lightening of course. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">What
was the most interesting part of it for me was the responses from so many both
within and without of the church. I had people spanning the spectrum, giving me
interpretations of what God was doing through the lightening strike. On one
side, I heard that this was obviously God calling us to spend all of our
efforts and money pouring new life into the old building and sanctuary, saying
that we need to absolutely drop all plans for a new building and new ministries
and focus exclusively on getting back to our roots. On the other side, I heard
from a number of people that this was God obviously giving us permission to
just demolish the old building and move on to bigger and better things. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s
just amazing how God can speak near-contradictory things through the same
incident, isn’t it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So
I spent Holy Week (and the week and a half since) trying to hold onto Christ’s
declaration: “Behold, I make all things new.” I’ve been trying to remember and
remind that God is doing a new thing in Kyle UMC while at the same time calling
us to be good stewards of the gifts God has given us. It’s been interesting and
fun. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So
how was your Holy Week? And, since it’s taken me so long to write my part of
this, how has your last week and a half been as well?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Oh,
and yes. For those of you who are wondering, I did yelp. Like a scared little
girl. </span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-31605840274463725092014-03-18T13:17:00.002-07:002014-03-18T13:18:53.523-07:00Two P's of Parenting from the Cains: Patience, and Partnership<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Jess:<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></b>Our little baby will be 16 months old on Friday, and I
simply can’t believe it. In fact, a few weeks from now marks<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>two years</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>since we found out that our family
would be growing. It is amazing how different our life looks since then. I can’t
honestly say we have enjoyed every minute, but life is wonderful with James in
our lives.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I wiped pee off the floor this
morning, I realized that there is one thing that has been really important
during the last two years: PATIENCE. Now, just over a year ago, Wes and I wrote
a blog about <a href="http://themetheranlife.blogspot.com/2013_02_01_archive.html" target="_blank">patience</a>,
and our lack thereof. And yet, out of everything that we have done, from
reading books to talking to other parents to observing our own situation,
having more patience has been the biggest game-changer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Evan
Almighty</i>, there is a point where God (awesomely portrayed by Morgan
Freeman) talks to the main character’s wife about how God goes about answering
prayers. He says, “Let me ask you something. If someone prays for patience, you
think God gives them patience? Or does he give them the opportunity to be
patient? If he prayed for courage, does God give him courage, or does he give
him opportunities to be courageous? If someone prayed for the family to be
closer, do you think God zaps them with warm fuzzy feelings, or does he give
them opportunities to love each other?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is so much patience required in
being a parent. First, you have to wait nine months for the kid to bother to
make an appearance. In that time, you wait to hear a heartbeat, wait to see the
baby, wait to discover the baby’s gender, wait for signs of labor, wait, wait,
wait. There’s no speeding up the process—babies need time to develop. And even
once they’re here, there is literally nothing they can do for themselves for
months. You wait for the day they can soothe themselves, sit up alone, feed
themselves, sleep through the night, etc.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All of this waiting, all of these
opportunities to be patient, are what have created greater patience in me. I
can see it in other areas of my life, as well. I’m more patient in traffic,
more patient when projects take awhile to get going, more patient in everyday
conversations. This is going to be a great asset in my life as a pastor. But
the greatest benefits of patience learned through parenting has been having
more patience for parenting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Throughout James’ young life, we have
made many changes: liquid to solid diet, sleeping in our room to sleeping in
his own room, following James’ schedule to making our own, bottles to cups,
three naps to two naps to one nap. Each one of these changes is pretty major
for a little guy who hasn’t known anything else his whole life. Each time we
make a change, we’ve gone the “slow and steady” route. Introduce a little solid
food. Gradually tweak James’ schedule till it becomes our own. And now, we’re
working on two slow processes: getting rid of the pacifier and potty training.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By not having expectations that these
things will happen overnight, we don’t jar James out of his comfort zone. We
take our time so that the new thing seems natural by the time we’ve completely
switched to it. Patience is key. James isn’t going to be in “big boy” underwear
by tomorrow. But he just might use the potty, and that’s something to
celebrate. For James, too, is learning patience. He’s also learning that his
parents love him and will walk with him through the challenges in life. And he
is teaching us so much along the way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Wes:</b> Jess, once
again, said basically everything that needed to be said. In fact, I loved the
way that she ended her part of the post so much that I actually feel bad about
writing anything after it. So, if you don’t want to read this part of the post,
that’s cool. I would have stopped with Jess’ words as well. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But here’s the deal. I have to write something. In part
because I’m one of those people who almost always has something to say and in part
(a much larger part) because Jess is expecting me to write my half of this
post. This blog is a team effort, and we are partnering in it. If I were to not
hold up my end of partnership, it would not be the same. That doesn’t
necessarily mean that it would be less of a blog—I already admitted that you
could only read Jess’ parts and be perfectly content with life—but it wouldn’t
be complete in the way we meant it to be complete. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That’s also what I’ve found to be true with parenting. Jess
and I joke on occasion that she parents James and I babysit James, like it’s
something I do for short periods of time and then receive some form of payment
for services rendered (clothes washed, food prepared, etc…). We’ve both known
people who function this way, and in most cases, that works fine for them. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But we’ve worked hard to make sure that our parenting is
different—not better, but different, and something that better fits with our
understanding of family and philosophy of childrearing. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So when we joke about me babysitting, it’s actually a
reminder to both of us of the partnership we have entered when it comes to our
son. Both of us see our parenthood as a pairs match—neither of us should have
to bear all of the burden of raising James on our own. That’s not how we have
set up this game to be played. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That is not at all to say that one cannot do a fantastic job
raising kids by his/herself. I will be the first to admit that Jess is the
better, more equipped and prepared parent. James would grow up to be a fine
young man if she were a single parent, and—in all honesty—I probably cause more
damage with this partnership than would be there if I were not in the picture.
James already has a bad habit of head-butting people and sticking his tongue
out at them, because hey, I think it’s hilarious. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jess <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">could</i> do this
whole parenting thing on her own and shine at it, but that’s not how we have
decided to do this whole raising kids thing. It’s a partnership, and one we
each have to actively be a part of if we want to see it work. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Luckily, I’m not as forgetful with James as I am with
posting our blogs on a regular basis! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So here’s just a little glimpse into our process and two
things that we have found to be vitally important in how we raise our son. This
is not meant to be instructive—not that it couldn’t do that—but is instead
meant to show you a little more of who we are and what has rang true for our
lives, this past year especially. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That’s all for now. You stay classy, World Wide Web. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">wes and jess </span></div>
Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-83285527854461587692014-03-05T15:07:00.000-08:002014-03-05T15:09:04.381-08:00Lent 2014<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Jess:</b><b> </b>We are officially in the season of
Lent, and Wes and I are doing a smattering of Lenten disciplines this year. The
whole purpose of these practices is to remove obstacles that get in the way of
your relationship with God, with keeping faith and the Almighty at the center
of your life. Over the years, we have both "given up" a variety of
things: junk food, TV, Facebook, etc. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">This
year, we had a long discussion about what would be good to give up for the
season of Lent, and we came up with...nothing. We talked about giving up
Facebook, which is not a bad idea, but we have too many people who keep in
contact through that method. Instead, I chose to move the FB app on my phone
out of the way so that I'm not automatically hitting it when I turn on my phone.
I think more carefully about whether I'm getting on FB because I have something
important to do there, or because I'm too lazy to think of something better to
do with my time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I stopped
giving up certain kinds of food a few years ago after I lost five pounds over
Lent. I don't want the underlying purpose of any Lenten discipline to be losing
weight or some other outcome that's better for me in that way. As a side
benefit, losing weight was fine, but going into Lent knowing that that would
probably happen wouldn't work the same. Plus, Wes and I are both trying to be
healthier overall, so we've been making changes along the way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">While I
tossed out the idea of giving up TV, Wes pointed out that we don't even watch
TV every day anymore. We have 4 or 5 half hour shows that we watch when they're
new, plus we have a show we're watching on Netflix. For the most part, we watch
less than an hour of TV per day. Some days it's none, and some days we veg, but
an hour or less is the norm. We don't let James watch TV, so our time for doing
so is limited to his sleep times, and we generally would rather read or play a
game at this point in our lives. This didn't seem like a sacrifice that would
really change our lives in any significant way, and it certainly wouldn't lead
us closer to God, it would just lead us to read or play games more often. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So this
year we settled on simplification and re-focusing our lives, which is the
overall goal of Lent. We are supposed to take this time to examine ourselves
and our lives, and see where they are going astray from God's plan for us. To
that end, we are taking on two Lenten disciplines: 1) 40 bags in 40 days, which
involves going through our house, our cars, and probably our computers/phones
to throw out/give away what we don't need or use. 2) Reading through and doing
activities from Adam Hamilton's <u>Love to Stay</u>, with the purpose of taking time to focus on our marriage
and God each week and day of the season. I'm looking forward to both!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Wes: </b>Basically, what Jess said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Also, I’m
trying a couple of new things during this Lenten season that should be fun. One
of my good friends, Jon Lys, has agreed to do a Facetime book study with me.
We’re going to be reading through Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ethics</i>, the book he began to write and never finished while staying
as a permanent resident in a Nazi death camp. He was executed before he could
finish it. I’m excited to read through this with Jon, and excited to dive once
again into one of my favorite theologian/pastor’s works. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The
second thing that I’m going to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">try</i> to
do—we’ll see how successful it is—it to blog on a daily basis on either this
blog or my personal one, <a href="http://flip-flopprophet.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">The Flip-Flop Prophet</a>. I’ve gotten way out of habit,
and it’s actually something I like to do, so I’m hoping this can be a good
encouragement for me. Between the decluttering, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Love to Stay</i>, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ethics</i>—as
well as my weekly storytelling, sermon writing, etc…—I should have plenty to
write about. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So what
are y’all doing for Lent? Let us know, so we can encourage you in your
endeavors. </span><b style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15pt;"><o:p></o:p></b></div>
</div>
Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-49156883711948828702014-02-05T18:12:00.002-08:002014-02-05T18:12:53.103-08:00Losing to Win<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 15.0pt;">Jess:</span> </b><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 15.0pt;">For most of our marriage, Wes and I have both
wanted to lose weight. We have both had highs and lows through challenging
ourselves to get healthier. I personally found that I was the healthiest during
my pregnancy. Why is it that it’s always easier to do something for someone
else than for yourself?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 15.0pt;">As I look back over
the arc of my relationship with Wes, I realize that we</span> <i><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 15.0pt;">have</span></i> <span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 15.0pt;">gradually become healthier as individuals and as a couple. When we got
married, we simply didn’t have much money. This was a blessing and a curse. We
didn’t have a lot of spare cash for things like chips or ice cream or going
out, but we also didn’t have money to buy a lot of fresh fruits and vegetables.
Lacking money and moving to New Jersey in the dead of winter meant we spent a
lot of our free time watching TV.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 15.0pt;">When we moved to our
house, we got into a routine of taking walks around the neighborhood, and even
did some small trips to go hiking for an afternoon. We still watched a lot of
TV, but we started earning enough money to buy decent food, yet managed to keep
junk food out of the house for the most part. For the first 9-ish months of
living in our house, we shared a car, so Wes walked/biked to work a lot, and I
went to school with him and would walk around Princeton while he was in class.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 15.0pt;">Now that we’re back
in Texas, we can walk almost any day that it’s not raining. James loves being
outside and asks to do so every day. We can go to the park/playground, and we
love to move as a family. James has gotten to the point of wanting to eat
whatever we eat, so we’re very careful about what we choose to put on our
plates and in our cups. We don’t want him to grow up challenged by a sweet
tooth or overwhelming love of French fries, and that’s changing our habits,
too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 15.0pt;">Through all this, I
realize that the things that have worked the best are those that we have done
together. We have made an agreement to not keep many sweets (for my sake) or
chips (for Wes’) around the house. We go out occasionally and try to share,
paying attention to what we’re eating. We like to take walks together and do
our best to walk to various places in Kyle, or at least park the car far away
when we go to shop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 15.0pt;">The greatest change
for both of us has been getting pedometers and enrolling in a six-month Diet
Bet. We’ve committed to trying to lose 10% of our weight over 6 months, with
each month holding its own percentage goal. Wes’ health care program gives us
money for completing certain step goals each quarter. It’s been a great way to
get us up and moving.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 15.0pt;">When we switched to
Fitbit trackers, we also got the phone app that helps us track our food, water,
calories burned, etc. Just in the couple weeks we’ve had them, I can see a
remarkable change in our eating and activity. I feel more compelled to track my
food because I know Wes and I will talk about it. We have a bit of healthy
competition, but we mostly compete against ourselves and cheer each other on.
I’m so proud of what Wes has been doing—he won our Diet Bet this last month,
even after I had given up on any chance of doing so. I think getting healthy is
one of the best things we have done as a couple, and the effects are clear in
James, as well!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Wes:</b> So here’s
the deal with me and food: I love to eat. I blame my parents, because of course
nothing is my fault. I’ve never had too bad of a sweet tooth—I like the
occasional ice cream, sure—but what really gets me is savory shtuff. I love
chips and salsa. Even better is chips and queso. I love chicken wings. And
ribs. And chicken-fried steak. If it tastes oh so good, you know I’m going to
want a bite or twelve… hundred. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Growing up, my family was mostly a meat-and-potatoes and
comfort food family. Our veggies were, for the most part, from cans, and we ate
out a lot. I’ve talked with my parents about it many times, and every time we
talked, I realized that it was really the easiest and fastest way to put out
food for a family of seven (plus the constant stream of friends, family, and
strangers who found their way to our kitchen). I don’t hold it against them at
all; I still eat that way when I have the choice! But it meant that I had a
pretty steep learning curve to conquer if I was going to be able to start
eating healthier and losing weight. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That and my dad’s cooking is really, really good. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Going into college, I noticed that when I had the freedom to
eat whatever and cook whatever, I actually chose to eat <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">a little</i> healthier. I liked the taste of fresh and frozen veggies
better than their canned counterparts. I liked the taste of marinated and grilled
meats much better than fried. I would rather eat brown rice than white—as long
as it was in casserole form (which, as Jess will and does complain about, is my
favorite way to cook). </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I still ate. A lot. And I was never able to get into a
regular fitness program to which I actually looked forward every day. Well,
marrying Jess changed my diet even more—for the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">much, much </i>better—as she’s already mentioned. But I still couldn’t
find a way to encourage myself to get out and get healthy. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I hadn’t always been so sedimentary—when I was younger, I
was extremely active in sports and loved above everything else to swim. So I
decided to try that back out. We got a membership at a local pool in NJ and I
started swimming regularly. But then I made the grave mistake of deciding that
since I was burning so much, I could eat so much more. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s taken me all of my adolescent and adult life (which I
admit is still not too long), but I think I’ve finally found the happy medium
between working out on a regular basis (swimming and power walking mostly) and
eating well. For the first time in a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very</i>
long time, I’m not squeezing into my clothes, worrying about when my XXL’s
would turn into XXXL’s. I’m not watching my waist size climb and climb, knowing
that soon I’d have to buy <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">more </i>clothes,
to find a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bigger </i>belt. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m actually losing, and feeling great about myself for the
first time in a very long time. I’m just about ready to transition down to a
single X, something that I haven’t felt comfortable in since Junior High, and I
have already gone down two pant sizes as of today. I am actually having to
engage in the fun task of buying a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">smaller</i>
belt, because I’m tired of punching my own holes in my current one. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve still got a very long way to go until I’m where I want
to be. I still want to some day pursue reserve chaplaincy in the Air Force once
I’m ordained, and I cannot do that until I lose even more serious poundage. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I’m on the right track, and it’s a great feeling. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thank you to all of those who have been an encouragement and
support to us in this process. Y’all stay classy. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
-j&w</div>
Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-30634990159822557532013-12-31T12:54:00.003-08:002013-12-31T12:55:38.674-08:00On the Seventh Day of Christmas, Wessica Gave to Me...<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Jess:<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></b>Wes and I
have been spending a lot of time talking about Christmas this year. We wrote a
blog a couple of years ago about Christmas (<a href="http://themetheranlife.blogspot.com/2011/12/love-came-down-at-christmas.html#comment-form"><span style="color: lime;">http://themetheranlife.blogspot.com/2011/12/love-came-down-at-christmas.html#comment-form</span></a>).
I knew things would change when we had kid(s), but I never realized just how
different it would be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Last year, James
was just barely a month old at Christmas. We had assumed he would be late, and
therefore would arrive just a week or so before Christmas. I had SO many people
ask what we were getting James for Christmas, and I was kind of offended.
Wasn’t LIFE good enough for a month-old baby? What would even be the point of
wrapping something for him?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">This year, things
are a little different. James kind of understands the concept of opening a
present. He kind of has fun doing so. And yet, his present from us has
been open and used for almost two weeks now, and I never wrapped it to start
with. There is a lot of pressure on us to do these big things for James’
birthdays and Christmas, yet he honestly doesn’t care. We joked about wrapping
a box, because that’s all he cares about.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The whole
Christmas-present discussion is a can of worms. Of course we want to get things
for our child, but we do that on a regular basis. I certainly don’t want to
raise a kid who thinks he’s entitled to presents. I also don’t want to raise a
child who thinks his behavior is being monitored by a creepy elf who reports to
an old fat guy, either. I want James to truly appreciate what he is given, to
recognize that he is privileged far beyond most children in the world, and to
want to help others rather than be greedy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Perhaps this is a
lot to ask of my child—certainly it is too much right now. But one day he will
understand this gift giving and receiving thing. One day he will learn more
about the rest of the world. One day he will find out that Santa is a concept,
not a person.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We have a lot of
things to work out regarding Christmas, and thankfully, James is too young to
care right now. Santa or no Santa? Lots of presents or just one? How will he
give presents? Should we have a Christmas tradition of<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>helping<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>rather than<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>hoarding</i>? Obviously, with Wes
and I both being pastors, Christmas is going to look very different in our home
than in James’ friends’ homes. I’m kind of glad for that. Maybe we’ll take
advantage of how different it already is and remember to make Christmas about what
it’s really supposed to be: the birth of Jesus, who came into the world, died,
and was raised again for the sake of all people. What other gift do we really
need?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Wes: </b>First, a confession: It is my
fault that we haven’t posted anything in a while. Jess keeps sending me blogs,
and I keep putting them aside and not doing anything with them. Like she writes
her entire part, and then I do… nothing. Sorry, friends. I let you down. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Now: Christmas. I
love Christmas. I love celebrating the birth of Christ with my friends and
family. I love the winter wonderland (even sans snow). I love the cheer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I still think it’s
magical to open up presents and to see what others have thought were the
perfect gifts for me. I love even more seeing the looks on my loved ones’ faces
when they open my gifts and I know immediately that yes, I did find the perfect
gift for them (I wish this one happened more often). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But wow if we
haven’t turned Christmas into a gluttonous thing! It’s like that scene from the
first Harry Potter book/movie, when Dudley gets all of those presents—and
demands another when he counts and doesn’t have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">enough</i>—and Harry… gets… nothing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We spend
sooooooooooooo much money on gifts, food for feasts, travel to get places, etc…
and yet, rarely do we do much anything for those truly in need. Yeah, sure,
donations and giving to charity go up during the Christmas season, and yeah,
not all of it is because of that bell ringer staring guilt into your eyes as
you leave Target, but it’s not near enough. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And I’m not saying
I do this all right, either. I bought too many presents and received too many
present. I used the cash gifts I was given—I’ll admit it, those are my
favorite—to get more stuff. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">As good ol’ Relient
K once sang, “I’m part of the problem, I confess, but I gotta get this off my
chest.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We hear so many
people of faith throughout our nation ready to complain about how the secular
world has ruined Christmas, how atheists are bringing the downfall of this
wonderful holiday, etc… But I have to wonder how many of my brothers and
sisters join me every year in catering to that commercialization. How many of
us spend our money on decorations, holiday-themed clothing, gifts, and so much
more as a way to honor our the birth of our Lord <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">when what would really honor Jesus Christ would be to feed
the hungry, clothe the naked, house the homeless, and visit the sick and the
imprisoned?</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sadly, that doesn’t
sound like our “ideal way” to celebrate Christmas to me…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Merry Christmas,
World Wide Web. </span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-50756086590463587482013-11-13T08:48:00.005-08:002013-11-13T08:49:09.734-08:00The Little Metheran's First Year<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><b>Jess: </b>We’ve been writing a lot of serious blogs recently, so as James’ first birthday closes in, we’re going to do a few about what we’ve learned so far. This time around, I'm going to talk about some not so great advice we received (or generally heard) and what would have helped. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="background-color: #073763;">First on my list of “least helpful new parent advice” is “<i>Sleep when the baby sleeps”.</i> This had to be the most annoying because of its many variations, particularly “Sleep now [while you’re pregnant] because you won’t for years,” etc. People act A) as if having a child automatically means you’ll be exhausted forever and B) as if you can combat that by saving up on sleep like a camel saves water.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="background-color: #073763;">James slept about 20 hours a day when he was born. He was that random baby who really did sleep, wake up long enough for a diaper change and food, and go back to sleep. I think 20 hours of sleep is a bit crazy. It’s also important to remember that, after the initial couple of weeks when most parents have extra help around, people bringing meals, etc., there is a lot to be done. Meals have to be prepared, the house has to be kept in some kind of order, one or both parents goes back to work, etc.</span></div>
<div class="adL" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<div class="im">
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI7gtJJULAqvKawBdSNEyKof9L7WM6aO_sci9NnrCSZPZSI4sW2H0dhyWAEKdCawCg_2sy5eDRbanQ7g9bbS9L6jCwlum03UKW9_UIEmaJubkgl_05vdnl9I72y6XRjrBcWzkpf0Dy6I-W/s1600/2012-11-22+11.07.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="background-color: #073763; color: black;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI7gtJJULAqvKawBdSNEyKof9L7WM6aO_sci9NnrCSZPZSI4sW2H0dhyWAEKdCawCg_2sy5eDRbanQ7g9bbS9L6jCwlum03UKW9_UIEmaJubkgl_05vdnl9I72y6XRjrBcWzkpf0Dy6I-W/s200/2012-11-22+11.07.27.jpg" width="149" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #073763;">Sleeping as usual!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: #073763;">There is some good in this advice, however. Rest is essential for both Momma and Daddy, especially during the first weeks. Because James slept so much, Wes and I would just go to bed after one of his nighttime feedings and go back to sleep as many times as necessary. Some people don’t have this option. Some parents have to go back to work, some babies don’t sleep like this. But the nugget of truth in this advice is that the first weeks and months of having a baby, when he/she eats every few hours, is exhausting. Your sleep patterns are thrown off and there is a big adjustment. Perhaps, rather than spouting unhelpful advice, we could offer to help new parents—give them a chance to rest, clean up, cook a meal. This makes all the difference in the world.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #073763;">As a side note, I think I adjusted pretty well to our new sleep patterns. In my last few weeks of pregnancy, I was lucky if I slept an hour straight without James, my bladder, or pain waking me up. So the three hour stretches we got were pure bliss for me—I had a new baby, more sleep, and I could sleep on my stomach again!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<span style="background-color: #073763;">Another often mentioned piece of parenting “advice” is “<i>Enjoy every minute. They grow so fast.” </i>There’s a reason we talk about hindsight being 20/20. Parents of older children are trying to impart valuable knowledge on new parents: life is short, and kids grow way too quickly. But “enjoy every minute” is just ridiculous. I’ve enjoyed much of life with James. Seeing him go from a helpless newborn to sitting and eating on his own to crawling and soon walking and talking has been awesome. Some of the details along the way? Not so much. Crying fits for no reason at <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_608196048" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">2 a.m.</span></span>? Not so awesome.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #073763;">Again, parents have great intentions with this advice. But trying to guilt new parents into “enjoying every minute” is no help. It just makes us feel like bad parents when we get frustrated and upset. The “they grow too fast” part is actually really helpful. Already, I’m looking back on James’ short life and wondering where the time went. Perhaps it would be more helpful to give advice related to that—I just don’t know how to word it. And when you see new parents struggling with a screaming child who can’t be consoled, I’m sure they’d love to hear, “Don’t worry, they grow out of that, too!”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #073763;">Out of everything we’ve heard, though, the best was from our friends the Graves’. Someone told them years ago not to worry about what’s coming but to be present in the moment. In other words, I shouldn’t concern myself with how I’m going to raise James the two- or ten- or sixteen-year-old. I’ll figure that out when it comes. Rather, I should commit myself to caring for James the almsot 1-year-old</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #073763;">, loving him, and being the best mom I can right now.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><b>Wes:</b> So, here's the deal with me. I'm a horrible listener. I know... this is isn't good for a pastor, but there it is. If you tell me something, and I've deemed it not-worth-knowing, I will almost immediately forget it. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: #073763;">By the way, this isn't a conscious thing. It just happens. I'm working on it, I promise. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: #073763;">But this means that most of the bad advice we've been given, I've already and completely erased from my mind. So, since I obviously can't continue Jess' list, I'll talk about a different-yet-similar topic: Bad Parenting Advice that I've Learned from Popular TV Shows.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: #073763;">From <i>How I Met Your Mother</i>, I learned that it's alright to let your baby stew in his own excrement for as long as it is necessary to make sure that your spouse is the one who has to change the poopy diaper. I also learned that it is ok to randomly take your wife for drinks at the bar across town and assume that your child is safe without ever taking the time to explain where he is and who is watching him. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: #073763;">From <i>Scrubs</i>, I learned that the only people who should be allowed to hold my baby are those who can deftly catch a hard rubber ball when I throw it as hard as I can at their faces. I also learned that my baby can at any time be used to make uncomfortable situations all that more awkward if I decided to start talking as if I were my baby giving commentary on the... promiscuosity... of the women around me. Also, nanny cams are really only used to check out the babysitter. Which is weird for us, since our friend Corbin is helping us out with James right now...</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: #073763;">From <i>Friends</i>, I learned that it is perfectly acceptable to choose caregivers based on their lack of physical attractiveness as a way to get back at your baby momma/daddy. I also learned that the best way to portray your son on TV is with a set of twins so that you always have a back-up. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: #073763;">From <i>Modern Family</i>, I learned that it is not at all confusing and bad for development for one parent to address the baby with one name and the other parent to call him something completely different. (Which is good, because when Jess isn't there, I call our son Wes the Third. My hope is that when he starts talking, he pronounces is "Wes da Turd." I can't tell you how hard I would laugh.)</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: #073763;">That's all for now. I hope this was in some way helpful and not at a waste of time. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: #073763;">You stay classy, World Wide Web. </span></div>
</div>
</div>
Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-86289020178210523352013-09-30T12:41:00.002-07:002013-09-30T13:24:21.895-07:00Do justice, love mercy...<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Jess:</b><b> </b>Wes and I have both expressed frustration with the recent $40
billion cuts to <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/news/snap-cuts/">SNAP</a><i>.</i>Personally,
I have been disgusted with the way many of my friends and family are reacting
to this—with joy. I am so sick of hearing/seeing comments like “Stop being lazy
and get a job!” or “Why should I pay for someone else to eat just because
they’re too lazy to work?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Let’s get something straight.
Most people do not choose to be poor, to be on food stamps, to be on welfare or
any other form of assistance.<b><a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/phaedra-ellislamkins/on-behalf-of-the-kids-who_b_3962344.html?utm_content=buffer270fc&utm_source=buffer&utm_medium=facebook&utm_campaign=Buffer"> </a></b><b><a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/phaedra-ellislamkins/on-behalf-of-the-kids-who_b_3962344.html?utm_content=buffer270fc&utm_source=buffer&utm_medium=facebook&utm_campaign=Buffer">It’sembarrassing</a>.</b> It can
make adults feel useless and unproductive, and children feel excluded from
“normal” life. Sure, there are probably—definitely—people taking advantage of
the system, and we should work to eliminate that. I am perfectly okay with
periodic drug testing and other such reforms. But simply cutting funding to <i>human beings</i><i> </i>is not
cool. And I am especially disappointed when I hear these things from my
Christian friends, people who read or hear week in and week out about the God
of justice, the God who cares for the poor and needy and requires that all
God’s people do the same.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Wes and I are living proof
that poor people are not lazy. We have been fortunate enough throughout our
marriage that we have not had to be on any sort of public assistance. But just
barely. When we first got married, we were digging into our savings each month
just to pay for health insurance, a relatively small car payment, groceries,
rent, and gas so that I could work. Either I had to get a second job (and we
already barely saw each other due to my schedule) or Wes had to work part-time
and go to school full-time. We were blessed that Wes was appointed to the
churches and we even had a parsonage.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Although I would never call
our financial situation for the next three years “comfortable,” it was much
better. After Wes got his job, the laws changed and we were both able to go
back on our parents’ insurance, leaving us responsible only for copays instead
of monthly payments. Our car insurance went down as we remained safe drivers.
We were able to go out to eat with friends on occasion and not wonder how we
would pay my student loans that month if we did. We were able to build our
savings back up again and save for a second car, which we needed when I started
school.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Having James didn’t
significantly change our financial situation, but only because we have
wonderful friends and family who helped with the cost of furniture, diapers,
clothes, and other necessities. Then we moved, and everything changed again.
First came the moving costs themselves. Although both the Southwest Texas
Methodist Conference and Triumphant helped with moving costs, we had to get a
car, two adults, two cats, and a 6-month-old from New Jersey to Texas. Then we
had a month where we had no home because we were waiting for Wes’ job to start.
Then we waited another couple of weeks before he got paid. We went two months
with no paycheck and we’re still hurting. While we are earning well above the <a href="http://www.npc.umich.edu/poverty/">poverty level</a> (I
can’t imagine living on that), we are in no way “stable.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Our savings has suffered
because of the long stretch without income. We had to buy a second car so I
could commute to work—which also increased our gas expenditures. As when we
bought Wes’ car, we found that the only way to save money buying used was to
buy a car so old we would soon be spending tons of money to keep it running. So
we took on another loan. Wes’ school loans came out of deferment in August. And
about half of my paycheck each month goes to putting James in childcare—which
is cheap, comparatively.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We are not lazy. We work
hard. Both of us worked through college; both of us have worked at least part
time through seminary. The cost of the education that is required for us to be
in the vocation to which we are called is ridiculous. The cost of living in NJ
was almost unbearable. If we didn’t have health insurance through Wes now, we
wouldn’t be able to afford it for the family. If we didn’t have the parsonage
through Wes, we wouldn’t be able to afford to live somewhere decent, either. If
I lost my job for some reason, we might make it. But if Wes did, we would be in
serious trouble.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And there are many, many
people in this country who are way worse off than we are. Please don’t call
them lazy. Please don’t assume they aren’t trying. Please recognize that there
are MANY factors
that go into this problem, and most of them are systemic, not individual.
Please pray for those who cannot support themselves or their families. I can’t
imagine how terrifying that must be. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">(Some interesting charts to <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/hunterschwarz/statistics-that-will-enrage-all-twentysomethings-everywhere">see.</a>)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Wes: </b>Hey, friends. Something has been bothering me for a while, and
I’ve been trying to figure out how best to broach the subject. I still haven’t
decided if this is the right medium for it, but here goes:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I’m worried. I’m worried
about America. I’m worried about the church. I’m worried about the world in
which we live. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Two weeks ago, there was a
mass shooting in the Naval yard just outside of Washington D.C. I found out
about it because a parishioner was watching T.V. and called me to make sure I
knew about it. I jumped on my computer and read story after story of the
incident, my heart breaking as yet another community in our nation was hit with
the onslaught of needless violence. People died. Others were seriously injured.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>And no one said a thing about it on my Facebook feed all day</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Now, I’m not so attached to
social media that I think that this is the only place people share their
thoughts, reactions, and emotions. But it does serve as basically a data dump
for everyone with whom I’m “friends”, so that I can see exactly what they
thought was relevant and important enough at the time that they posted it on
their walls. Here are a list of a few of the things that I did see:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt; margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: inherit;">·<span style="line-height: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]-->Articles from <i>The Onion</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt; margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: inherit;">·<span style="line-height: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]-->Pictures of food<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt; margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: inherit;">·<span style="line-height: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]-->Memes… so many memes…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt; margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: inherit;">·<span style="line-height: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]-->Statuses about football<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt; margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: inherit;">·<span style="line-height: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]-->Religious quotes and Scripture references<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt; margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: inherit;">·<span style="line-height: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]-->A Boy Meets World video (Okay, I posted this one because I
needed to smile)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Now, this tells me a few
things about my friends (as well as the major political and religious figures
that I “follow”)—mainly, that they either don’t watch the news, or the fact
that innocent people were shot and killed so close to our nation’s capital was
not considered important enough to beat out that link to a GIF of a cat dancing
for prominence on my Newsfeed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And it’s not only online that
I was unpleasantly surprised by the lack of response to this. I spent a good
deal of my office hours on the 16<sup>th</sup> in Starbucks, working on stuff,
but also listening to the people around me. There must have been over 200
people who came through that coffee shop while I was sitting inside, and not a
single person said anything about the shooting. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Are we getting to a point in
our culture where just don’t care anymore?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Have we reached a new level
of apathy, where we think that if it’s not happening directly in front of us
that is doesn’t actually impact us?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Why don’t we care more that
innocent men, women, and children are dying around the world due to war,
violence, starvation, and disease? Why are we splitting hairs over minor
details in laws and governmental funding when parents who are working as hard
as they can are unable to provide food for their children? Why aren’t more
people worried about the fact that there aren’t more people worried?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Now, I don’t want to come
across as high and mighty in this. I know I’m right in the middle of it. I have
accepted the call upon my life to be God’s voice in the world, which includes
saying the hard things at times. I have a soapbox in the form of a pulpit that
I can utilize on a weekly basis to talk about these kinds of things. And you
know what? For the most part, I don’t. I see the hurting, I see the pain, I
hear of the horrendous things happening, and I think to myself “someone should
care more”, or “someone should say or do something.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">To quote Relient K, “I’m part
of the problem, I confess, but I gotta get this off my chest.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">On September 16<sup>th</sup>,
2013, thirteen people were shot to death. We should care about
this. We should hurt because of this. We should fall down in prayer to a God
who has promised to make all things new, and pray for restoration in the midst
of horrible brokenness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 10.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And we should be worried if
we are not doing these things. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-65592471802499710182013-09-23T10:41:00.000-07:002013-09-23T10:41:37.905-07:00Metheran Struggles<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Jess:<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></b>I’m
nearing the end of the first month of my internship, and the Metheran family is
adjusting to our new life: two parents working full-time and a child in
daycare.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">This has been a pretty tough transition for me. As the weeks
of the summer dwindled down, I began to question my desire to do an internship.
I was having SO much fun with James every day, as well as getting to do some
things I haven’t had time for since seminary started—like reading books because
I want to or playing Lego Harry Potter. So some of my reasons were pretty
selfish, but others were vocational.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have no doubt that I have been called to serve God as an
ordained pastor. It took me many years to be able to say that, and there are
definitely days where I still question what that means. Probably most days. Yet
I also have no doubt that I have been called to be a mother—a mother to James,
a mother to his future biological sibling(s), and a mother to children in
foster and potentially adoptive care. I have known of this calling for the
majority of my life. Yet in all the years that I spent thinking about these
dual callings, I never thought about how they would function in one life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I never thought that leaving my child in someone else’s care
for the majority of the week would be so hard on me. Throughout the last 6
months or so, Wes and I have debated every possibility for childcare. We talked
about utilizing the Mother’s Day Out program at TLC, and the Baptist Church in
Kyle. But these places didn’t offer late enough hours or flexibility. We talked
about a nanny, but I knew we couldn’t afford the level or hours of care that we
needed. We talked about regular daycare, but I had no desire to send James to
daycare—and it is very difficult to separate the “good for James” daycares from
the others.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So we searched high and low for home daycare, and finally
one of Wes’ parishioners told us about her neighbor. We clicked automatically,
she was willing to work with our crazy work schedule, cloth diapering, homemade
food, and other random things, and we loved the setting. (It doesn’t hurt that
Wes’ parishioner can pop in if we’re ever concerned). But I refused to take
James on my first day, and I still have a hard time dropping him off. This is
made even more difficult on days when James is obviously having a hard day—I
feel like I’m doing something wrong by leaving him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">For now, I am reassuring myself by remembering that James
will remember the general feelings of his younger years, if that. He will
remember laughing with Mom and Dad, reading on the couch, hugs, encouragement,
learning, and being loved. He will not remember the day, earlier this week,
when I picked him up and he bawled. The point is quality, not quantity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="ecxmsonormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But I also wonder if this is what our life should look like
for years to come. After my internship, I will be “going back” to school. I
will take online and intensive courses, but, for the most part, I will be
hanging out with James every day for another year. How will that affect my call
into ordained ministry? Are there times when one or the other call will reign?
Can I realistically balance these at all times until all of my children start
their own lives? Being a part-time mom isn’t an option for me, and there have
already been days where I feel like that’s what I am. This year is certainly
filled with excitement already! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Wes: </b>I think that the past month
of transitions has been a little easier on me, mainly because I never really
stopped transitioning from one thing to another since we moved back down in
May. First, there was the literal movement from New Jersey to Texas. Then there
was the change from transience to permanence as we actually got to move into
our new home almost exactly an entire month after moving down here. Then there
was the shift from part-time ministry to vacation/Sabbath season to full-time
ministry. Finally, we’ve not had the transition from one of us working
full-time and the other staying home with James to both of us working and James
in home care. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Does
life ever take a break?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It
helps that James is such a happy baby most of the time. Also that he seems to
really enjoy being at Miss Jamie’s. We haven’t had to deal with a breakdown at
drop-off or pick-up yet, thank the Lord. But it’s still hard. I loved and
cherished every minute of my lunch breaks during my first month at KUMC, when I
could come home and know I would be greeted by both my wife and the cutest baby
to ever crawl over the earth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Oh,
also, James is crawling now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But
we deal. It’s all part of life, apparently, so you kinda have to deal with it.
You do what you gotta do, and that’s that. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We’ve
also discovered just how challenging the time-juggling is going to be for us
Metherans. We don’t have the extra money to pay a babysitter, so when we both
have meetings at our churches on the same night of the week, one of us has to
take James to that meeting. Now, we’ve really lucked out a couple of times
because James has some amazing grandparents and uncles who love to be around him.
A few sticky situations were avoided when Mega-Me (My dad. Yeah, that’s right.
His grandpa name is Mega-Me. Be jealous) came to play with James while Jess and
I took care of church stuff. Next month, Grandma K (Jess’ mom. Not as awesome
as Mega-Me) will play with James all week while I am out at a retreat and Jess is
working. They’ve been life savers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But
it’s hard. It’s hard knowing that the precious little time of each day that we
should be able to spend with James, we are instead stuck in finance or council
or whatever other meetings. Not that those meetings are not important or not
worth attending—I fully believe they are (for the most part) essential—but baby
always trumps (potentially boring) meeting. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Hopefully,
we’ll become better jugglers of time and better Tetris players of schedules. And,
hopefully, we’ll find some way to remember that God’s going to see us through,
even if we can’t spend as much time with James as either of us would like. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Well, that's all for now. You stay classy, World Wide Web. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">-jess and wes</span></div>
Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-73828408716093691482013-09-06T13:53:00.000-07:002013-09-06T13:55:07.440-07:00I.I.W.K.O.T.W.<div class="im" style="font-size: 13px;">
<span style="background-color: #073763; font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><b>Jess: </b>Here we are again, writing about something that is way more complicated than we probably understand, but it’s relevant and needs to be discussed.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 13px;">
<span style="background-color: #073763;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<div>
<div dir="ltr">
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<span style="background-color: #073763; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Syria. One of those countries that a whole lot of Americans probably never heard of before the last few weeks. Now it’s all over the news. Admittedly, Wes and I don’t get the newspaper or watch the news, but we do keep up with things online. Honestly, I prefer the way things are presented online, and it’s easier to catch up on while I’m feeding James. </span><br /><span style="font-size: small;">Anyway, if you’re unsure of anything we’re talking about, go <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%C2%A0http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/worldviews/wp/2013/08/29/9-questions-about-syria-you-were-too-embarrassed-to-ask/" target="_blank">here.</a> There are several links after the article that can give you even more information on Syria and the current situation.</span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;">I don’t like war. I don’t like knowing that there is war going on in countries all over the world as I’m writing this. I don’t like the idea of people killing other people. I don’t like that they do it to make a point, to punish someone, to get their way, or even out of seemingly protecting others. I really don’t like the idea that there are people who truly enjoy doing so. As someone who wants to believe that people have the capacity for good, it is very difficult for me to know that there are individuals and groups who will kills thousands of people just to get their way. </span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: #073763; font-size: small;">For me, war seems like a macrocosm of a fight between two children. Each side knows what they want, and maybe they even tried to explain it rationally at some point. Eventually, however, they are just throwing things, calling names, taking what was not theirs to begin with, and justifying it all by thinking that the other person started the whole mess. No one is innocent in war. Rarely is anyone completely justified. And yet it seems to be a perpetual part of the human condition. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #073763; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">I heard about President Obama’s leaning toward military action and immediately rejected the idea. Although military action seems to be unceasing in the US, we still think that we are called to be the worlds’ police force. And yet Martin Luther says that there is a time and place to take action on behalf of your brother or sister, even when it is inappropriate to take action on one’s own account. How do we know what is the right time? How do we know what is the right force? Even for someone who hates war, I kind of understand the idea of sending some missiles into hopefully unoccupied areas in retaliation for Assad using chemical <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/worldviews/wp/2013/08/27/heres-why-obama-is-giving-up-the-element-of-surprise-in-syria/">weapons.</a> But how do we know that these places will be empty? How do we know they won’t be full of something that will destroy people, animals, and land for miles? How do we know Assad won’t retaliate?</span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;">At some point, we have to say “enough!” We are called to care for the other, for the earth and all created things. We have done a terrible job of that, but this just shows our broken nature. I don’t have the answer to this, but I will continue praying for Syrians, our president, and other leaders around the world as yet another part of God’s creation is destroyed by human hands. </span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: #073763; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Wes: </b>Once again we find ourselves talking about something that we cannot solve. I don't know about y'all, but I often find myself daydreaming about "if I were king of the world." If I were king of the world, things would be a lot different. Healthcare would be completely funded by the government as a means of eradicating disease. I.I.W.K.O.T.W., education would be as well: as long as the student was maintaining a certain level of achievement, each person could earn up to a doctorate in whatever field they chose. That way, I.I.W.K.O.T.W., jobs would be secured based on an individual's merit and level of comprehension, not based on how much money they had or could obtain. I.I.W.K.O.T.W., everybody (even myself) would be by law expected to know or learn at least three languages.</span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;">And I.I.W.K.O.T.W., there would be no war. </span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;">If all of that sounds good, someone should start working on installing me. I have a few other ideas as well. </span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;">But Syria. </span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;">Man it sucks, knowing that around the world, there are people killing other people. There are days when I cannot fathom this. It does not compute with my life experience (thanks be to God), and I just don't understand it. Other days, it seems to be almost common--as if I'm desensitized from it. Of course it happens; it's a fact of life. </span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;">And with Syria, I gotta tell you, the more I read about it, the more and more I worry about how it will finally end. That first Washington Post article that Jess hyperlinked talks about Russia and Iran's part in all of this: that's scary! The idea that two countries have a stake in allowing this civil war to continue because of arms trade and bad feelings toward surrounding countries is ridiculous. Now China has stood up and said they will have no part in it, the UK has taken a hands-off stance, and everyone else is either joining them or staying quiet. </span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;">Now, part of me says that even if everyone else turns their back on injustice, that doesn't mean we do the same. People are dying, and their government is supposedly (since it was never confirmed) using world-banned weapons. Someone <i>needs</i> to do something. </span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;">But all of me shouts that trying to quell violence with more violence doesn't work, that escalation is not the answer. Not now. Not ever. </span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;">My dad was sent overseas for three different tours of duty: two to Iraq and one to Afghanistan. When it comes to government and the military, he is my personal go-to information person. We don't always agree on everything, but I value his thoughts and opinions more than any other on these sorts of topics. When I asked him what he would do with this conflict if he were king of the world, he said he'd take out Bashar al-Assad. No bombs. No civilian casualties. Just one strike team to go in and clean up this mess. </span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;">Maybe that's the answer. I don't know. All I know is that I have been called to take the hard line on issues like this and preach peace. No exceptions. No rationalizing. Peace. Non-violent, self-sacrificing, even. In cases like this, maybe that means the U.S. showing its muscle by brow-beating everyone into a world-wide trade embargo against the Syrian government until al-Assad steps down. But you know, even that would most likely meant not only continued bloodshed for the foreseeable future, but also starvation and death due to lack of resources as well.</span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;">Which would mean, as always, the people who are going to lose the most in this war are the truly innocent, on neither the side of the government nor the rebels. The people who are going to lose the most are the least of these, those very people to whom Christ called us to minister. </span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;">Damn. This is hard. If only I were king of the world...</span></span></div>
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Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-54236103021597027752013-09-02T13:39:00.001-07:002013-09-02T13:39:06.141-07:00Shabbat!
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<b>Jess: </b>Wes gave a pretty decent sermon on the Sabbath this last Sunday. It really got me thinking about how we treat the Sabbath day. Then it got me thinking—what IS the Sabbath?</div>
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What is the day of rest that we have after seven days of work? I think for many people, this is Saturday. They work Monday-Friday and perhaps have had activities on Sunday. For others, maybe Sunday is the Sabbath. I know that for awhile, my mom and Chris were attending Saturday night services because that gave them all of Sunday to be in rest.</div>
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For Wes and I, at least for this coming year, Thursday will be our Sabbath. Although I firmly believe that the day in which we come together to worship can be Sabbath, that is just not the case for pastors. Sunday is a workday—perhaps the biggest workday of all. It is the day toward which the rest of the week looks, and the day on which much of the work done throughout that week culminates. So we will be observing our Sabbath on Thursdays.</div>
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What does Sabbath mean for us today, though? There are many, many laws and regulations regarding the Sabbath in Jewish law and history. We even have some perceived laws regarding Sundays in Christianity today. I know my family always went out to eat on Sunday afternoons. By the time we got out of church and into “regular” clothes, no one wanted to think about cooking. So part of our restfulness included not cooking for ourselves—we also usually had leftovers for dinner. Yet our Sabbath meant that someone else was not having a Sabbath. Part of God’s law says, “On [the Sabbath], you shall not do any work, neither you, nor your son or daughter, nor your manservant or maidservant, nor your animals, nor the alien within your gates.” God goes on to say that God rested, and so should we.</div>
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One of my biggest struggles with Sabbath is determining what constitutes Sabbath for myself and my family. If even the resident alien is not supposed to work, should I go to Starbucks, forcing this stranger to make coffee for me? Yet by not going to Starbucks, I don’t change the fact that it is open. If my Sabbath day continues to be Thursday for years, but James needs help with homework, does that mean that I cannot help him? Is that too much work?</div>
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It is easy to get bogged down by the rules of Sabbath—whether those that God clearly states or those we create for our own sake. But the purpose of Sabbath is clear: we are called to break from our routine of work as God did. Resting rejuvenates us, so Sabbath is about doing that which accomplishes this. For an introvert, that might mean reading a book alone. For Wes and I, who are apart all week, it might mean a date—or time spent with James. For the manual laborer, it means resting his or her hands. For the person who sits inside all day, maybe it means spending time in nature.</div>
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The point is, no matter what our routine, God calls us to take a break from it each week. This is for our own good, for the sake of our relationship with God, and for the sake of others. Wes and I will continue to wrestle with what Sabbath means for us throughout this year and beyond, and we invite you to share your struggles and joys as well!</div>
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<b>Wes: </b>Did everyone see that Jess said I gave a decent sermon? Let the record show. </div>
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If anyone would like to see that sermon, it--along with all of my other sermons at KUMC!--can be found on my other blog, <a href="http://flip-flopprophet.blogspot.com/2013/08/82513-sermon-on-luke-1310-17.html" target="_blank">here</a>. I don't actually know if anyone watches them. Since I started sharing the video clip, the few and far between comments that I used to get altogether disappeared. But, if you want to check it out, there it is. </div>
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So Sabbath for me is a weird time. I feel like I have to work to rest, which doesn't make any sense. I totally get the idea that we have to prepare for a full day of rest--such as making sure meals are planned out (if you're into that) and all the work that might need to be done is done the day before--but that's different than having to actively work at not working or breaking out of your regular routine. </div>
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One of the ways we've tried as a family to do this is to limit our electronics usage on our Sabbath day. This seems to be harder for me than it is for Jess. I honestly don't feel super attached to Facebook, and I don't feel the need to reply immediately every time I receive a text, but I do enjoy being connected with others and being able to be in constant dialogue with my friends. It's one of the ways that I maintain my extrovertivity. (Yes, I made up a word. Go with it). So it's harder for me to put my phone away and not think about it. This is the part of Sabbath that takes some work on my part. </div>
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Other aspects of Sabbath are not as taxing. One of the things that has been rather nice about our Sabbaths this summer is that I've used many of them to complete projects around the house. Now, this might sound weird, as many (even myself) consider this to be working, but in a very real way, these projects--like building a bookshelf for James and fixing the backyard fence--allow me to spend some time working my hands and making something for the world to see, which is something that my day-to-day job rarely allows. </div>
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My brother, Tomas, didn't really understand this when I told him about it. He works full-time for a re-modeling company, putting up sheet rock and wall paper. He works with his hands on a daily basis. So when I told him that this kind of activity is rewarding and rejuvenating for me, it didn't make sense. For him, taking a day to read a good book or spend around people doing nothing is a wonderful break from routine, whereas I spend most of my week reading in preparation for preaching/teaching and in community with others. This is time well spent for me, and I absolutely love it, but a Sabbath full of the same type of activity as any other day is not really a Sabbath. </div>
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Well, Jess gave a wonderful little lesson on what the Sabbath is. I just spouted out words about it for a little while. I hope at least part of this is edifying for you and helps you in your own walk as you try to live out God's commandment to honor the Sabbath and keep it holy. </div>
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For now, though, you stay classy, World Wide Web!</div>
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-wes and jess</div>
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Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-59707545700355393352013-08-01T18:12:00.002-07:002013-08-01T18:12:57.742-07:00Mommy Wars: Jessica Strike Back<div>
<b>Wes:</b> So, I'm not going to be saying much in this post, which is why I am writing first. The reason is simple: when it comes to issues like this, my place is to give support, listen when she needs to talk/vent/scream, and help out in any way that I can. All of that was to say, this is an extremely important issue, and I hope y'all understand the pain, emotion, and deep love for James behind this post. And you know what, it's not just for James. This is a much bigger issue. Like, global, in how we understand, talk about, and support Mothers and Fathers in every society who are working to ensure the future of humanity. </div>
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Jess</b>: So there is this thing called the "Mommy Wars." These battles can be about parents who feel inadequate because they don't throw their child a perfectly planned over-the-top party for every birthday, Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, half birthday, etc. Others are about women comparing how quickly they returned to their "pre-baby body," a myth in itself since your body fundamentally changes (for example, I now have wider hips, which isn't something that can just be dieted and exercised away). Some of these battles are over how to properly move your child from bottle/breast to solid foods. And these are just the arguments going on about having babies and young children. I can't imagine what happens in elementary school, and I'm not ready to even think about it. <br /><br />The point is, parents, who are doing arguably the hardest job in the world, are also having to compete with one another about which way is best. Which is crap. Truly honest pregnancy and baby-raising books talk about the range of "normal" in any baby's behavior, development, habits, etc. Each one of these children is an individual, a special human being with its own personality that shows in certain ways from birth. My mom likes to tell me that even as an infant, I liked being independent--I didn't really want to be held unless I was being fed. My brother was the exact opposite. How can we possibly say that one way of raising a child is fundamentally better than another? More importantly, even if one thing really IS better than the other, shouldn't we be supporting each other as parents, rather than competing? The saying goes that it takes a whole village to raise a child--so what happens when that whole "village" is locked in heated battle after heated battle?<div>
<br />I chose to write this post because I have spent the entirety of James' small life locked in what may be the harshest of these battles: breastfeeding vs. bottle feeding. After reading all of the pregnancy and birth books, I naturally turned to what I would do with this small human when he finally arrived. Wes and I spent very little time discussing this, because it just seemed to make sense that I would breastfeed at least until James was six months old. Why would we pay hundreds of dollars during his first year of life when I could feed him for free? Naturally? So we read the right books, we made use of the lactation consultants at the hospital and even called them after we left. </div>
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<br />But James wasn't gaining weight. Rather, our little guy, who was just barely over six pounds to begin with, had dropped down to only 5 by his eighth day of life. The verdict came down: we would have to supplement with formula while I pumped for awhile or he would be in grave danger of dehydration, and possibly brain damage if it went on too long. I cried while we talked to the doctor, but resolved to pump until we could go back to breastfeeding. </div>
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<br />That night, James, who wouldn't drink a full bottle, had gotten so lethargic that we took him to the hospital, where he stayed for the next three days. Breastfeeding almost killed my baby. He was so dehydrated that the nurses couldn't draw blood at first. Wes and I were sent to a room to wait while the staff did a spinal tap--through which we could hear James screaming through two closed doors. They gave me a pump and we discovered the problem--I had supply issues. For the next three weeks, I pumped every two to three hours, took several over the counter supplements as well as prescription medication, literally cried over drops of spilled milk and more until my midwife final told me that I was killing myself for something that would never happen. </div>
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<br />And for the last seven months, I have felt guilty every day. I've felt like a failure, like I'm not a good enough mom for James. The container of formula constantly reminds me that "breastfeeding is best." Other mothers breastfeed for years with no problems. Other mothers judge me for "choosing" to formula feed. Other mothers are berated for breastfeeding their children in public, while I am berated for not giving my child the best nutrition possible. Only in the last few weeks have I started to feel better, mostly because of sites like <a href="http://www.fearlessformulafeeder.com/" target="_blank">this</a> and awesome men like <a href="http://www.closeronline.co.uk/2013/07/why-breastfeeding-isn-t-always-best-by-closer-s-andrew-hartley" target="_blank">this</a>.</div>
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<br />This is ridiculous. This has to stop. </div>
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<br />Only when parents stop the wars and start working together for better education and support will our children be able to be raised by a village. Only then can those who breastfeed feel comfortable breastfeeding in public--something that is natural and beautiful, a wonderful way for mother and child to bond. Only then can those who formula feed feel safe in pulling out their bottles in public, proudly showing the world that they, too, are providing the nutrition their child needs--just in a different way. Only then can fragile, hormone-ridden, emotional, post-birth women enjoy the time they have with their babies who grow up all too fast, no matter what they eat. Maybe then we can start looking around at classrooms full of children and realize that it is the care with which a parent feeds his or her child (or does any other activity with that child) that matters way more than the method. </div>
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(<a href="http://mamabythebay.com/2013/07/30/i-support-you-2/" target="_blank">Here</a> is a great link to people who are trying to combat this issue).</div>
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Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208511079277719525.post-76219654931681644262013-07-23T18:37:00.001-07:002013-07-23T18:37:24.307-07:00The Kyle Trail: Where Nobody Dies of Cholera, and You Don't Have to Ford Any Rivers
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<b>Jess: </b>We're starting to get settled here in Kyle, and I for one am enjoying this new journey in our life. I can't speak for Wes, but I'm pretty sure he feels the same way. Unlike our move to New Jersey, there has been more joy than sadness, although the sadness certainly exists, too. We definitely miss our friends from New Jersey, but it has been so nice to move back into our "old" circle of friends.</div>
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I think that in situations like this, it is really easy to build up a fantasy that has no bearing on reality. I'm not going to lie, as much as I was excited about coming back to Texas, I was also pretty nervous. Of course there were the normal moving jitters: what if we forget something, what if our stuff gets lost, what if something goes wrong... We also had some big concerns about going two months without either one of us earning a paycheck, and now we still have about two more before we're both working again. That's a pretty big strain on the savings account.</div>
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My biggest worry, however, was that we would come back to Texas and it wouldn't be as great as we had built it up to be. I mean, we're not back where we met and got married. It's not that we're far, but it's not like even moving right back to TLU would have solved this concern. Our friends are scattered, we all have jobs, everyone is at a very different point of their lives than when we all hung out together in college and the little bit afterward. What if this new arrangement fell short of our expectations? What if we were lonely in Texas just like we were lonely in New Jersey at first?</div>
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And yet, despite all of my concerns, things are coming together. We didn't lose anything on the way (except maybe one of James' cloth diapers, which could still turn up), all of our stuff made it safely to the house and we're nice and settled, and nothing went wrong along the way--no missed planes, no flat tires, no cats running away at the hotels. The people at Kyle UMC are wonderful, and I'm sad to think of not being with them on a weekly basis once September comes around. The larger Kyle community is great, we can walk around a lot, we've found what I think is going to be our favorite fallback restaurant, and there is PIE! </div>
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Yes, things are different with our friends. Most of us are married now, Wes and I have a kid, everyone is older and most everyone is working a full-time job. We can't just get together randomly at 3 p.m. and do nothing. But we CAN go float the river on a day off, play games into the night, and, most importantly SEE each other on a regular basis. As our friend Ryan pointed out, we can make plans for next week. We don't have to talk about what we'll do four months from now--although that is also an option. We're here to stay. If we miss seeing someone today, we don't miss our chance for the next half year. James is going to grow up among a wonderful group of people that we love. And that's just as awesome as I always hoped. </div>
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<b>Wes:</b> We are settlers, but luckily for us we do not have to travel in a covered wagon, we can carry all of the meat from our hunting ventures back with us, and we are not made of giant pixels that make it near impossible to distinguish from males and females. </div>
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Basically, this trail is crazy better than our childhood game, Oregon Trail. </div>
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We are settlers in a magnificent, magical place called Kyle, which truly is an interesting place. This city, which is one of the ten fastest-growing communities in Texas, seems to be really comprised of a number of small development communities that for the most part seem to be pretty self-contained. They all come together in near-lego fashion to create this town just South of Austin on the I-35 corridor. </div>
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And we're smack in the middle of it. I couldn't be more excited. </div>
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Jess talked a lot about what our combined worries/fears were in moving back down. I thought I'd talk a little bit about something that surprised us, and not in a good way. </div>
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We've found that it's not as easy to be a Dad of a baby in public in Texas as it is in New Jersey.</div>
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It might sound a little weird, but it's true. In the six months of James' life spent up in the Great White Northeast--otherwise known as Southern Canada, which is weird because there are whole states in between New Jersey and Canada... Also no one calls it that but me...</div>
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Sorry. I got off track. In the six months of James' life spent up in New Jersey, there was only one public establishment that we visited that did not have a changing table in the men's room. It might have been bent, broken, or missing straps, but it was there and semi-usable. </div>
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In Texas, though, we've already encountered a number of places where this is the case, much to our chagrin. In both restaurants and stores, there have been too many times that I have tried to take James into the bathroom to change his diaper and found out that I would have to use the floor to complete my endeavor. So, I've had to bring him back out and give him to Jessica, who is much more annoyed about this than I am because she gets stuck with diaper duty (please, please tell me you caught that pun) more often than not. </div>
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I've been thinking a lot about the single dads out there, and how frustrating it must be for them. </div>
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Come on, Texas. I firmly believe that you are the greatest nation-state in the world. Step up your game. </div>
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Well, that's all for now. Sorry for the long wait. We'll get better again at writing more consistently. It is, once again, all my fault. For now, though, You Stay Classy, World Wide Web!</div>
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-jess y wes</div>
Wesicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468751087803441618noreply@blogger.com2