"Ignorance is Not a Virtue" and Other Thoughts on MLK Day

 Martin Luther King Jr. Day is here again. I was almost 9 years old on the day King was assassinated, so I remember it well. The next day, my teacher talked about "civil rights" all day long. I'm pretty sure that's the first time I ever heard the phrase. We lived in Boulder, Colorado, and it was a progressive town. That year, for Christmas, I picked out an African American baby doll from the pages of the Sears catalog. My parents had a good laugh at that -- I did not get the joke -- and I was told I was too old for dolls. There were no African Americans in our school back then; Boulder, outside the university, was a largely white town.

When I moved to Texas at the age of 19, I wasn't aware that I had any prejudices. I did have, of course, they just hadn't been unearthed at that time. I had friends of every kind and it honestly never occurred to me that a person of a different faith or skin color or economic circumstance was different from me in more than cosmetic ways. This was flawed thinking, of course, borne of the same naivete most of my assumptions give birth to. In looking at the "me" of those days, it's fair to say I was race ignorant. And because, until my early 30s, I did not surround myself with people who would dig at those buried biases (Thank you More to Life) and challenge my lack of consciousness, I stayed that way.  I don't like it, but I will admit it now, I'd adopted "color" blindness. 

I got some insight to this when I accepted a first date from an African American man. He took me to an Indian restaurant for that date which made me extremely nervous. Despite an experienced palate, I'd always been afraid of Indian food. He looked at me quaking across the table and said, point blank, "If you're so nervous, why'd you accept a date with a black man?" The question shocked the nerves away. I quickly explained that I was nervous about the food and had not given a thought to him being black.  Sadly, that was true. He provided me a good education over the next couple of years through telling me his experiences of being black, male and American. I did not absorb it all then, but the words have echoed through the years. Side note - I now love Indian food.

Fast forward a few years until dear hubby and I are married and faced with the unsurprising and incontrovertible proof of my infertility. We eventually decided to adopt. At our first group meeting, as the very first step in our adoption process, letters from prospective adopters were passed around. I finally asked what the codes meant in the corner. They referred to the ethnicity of child the parents would accept. My husband and I locked eyes over the table and practically ran out the door when we adjourned for lunch. We were so shocked people would consider one group of children over another. Long story short, we talked it over at lunch, went back in, told them we'd take ANY child, then hit the fast track. At that time, there were 69 parents in the program and only 2 who would accept a child that was any part African American.

We read all the books, I learned how to do hair, we prepared our families. I took classes in "Culture of the South," "African American Literature" and the "History of Jazz."  Here's what we didn't know: we didn't know ANYTHING. (And before you write me a note saying how great we were to do this, please know, it isn't true. People adopt to become parents, it's a selfish act. They have blessed us, not the other way round.)

We had no idea how the pain of being adopted is compounded by being adopted across racial lines. (The research says the opposite but in anecdotal experience, 5/5 kids say it makes it worse.) We did not have a clue about how hard it would be for them to form their own identities and try to fit into any of their cultures. Little decisions were unknowingly wrong turns - the oldest loved baseball so the second loved baseball so the Littles loved baseball. They were usually the only black kid on their teams. We did a frankly terrible job of helping them. We did not know what to do and with the oldest two, we didn't have the good sense to TELL them we didn't know what to do. Sorry girls. Kids are resilient and they found their own way. But I want to have helped them more. The youngest two have had the most exposure to their Mexican American and African American heritages. However, it is still not enough. All of them have been bullied or picked on for not fitting in. It's hard to know what you don't know. 

In the last dozen or so years, I've been on a journey to turn my "color" blindness to race consciousness. There are a lot of excellent books and essays on the topic. If you'd like to read one, try a concise one by Gus Castro: Race-Conscious: Ignorance is Not A Virtue and the others in this compilation that engage in the debate. Have I overcome my do-gooder color blindness? Not yet, but I will not let myself off the hook, and here is why: I HATE hate hate having to tell my kids over and over to not draw attention to themselves in stores, to keep their hoods off and the hands out of their pockets. If you are pulled over for ANY reason, you say "Yes, sir, yes ma'am"  and you do everything they tell you because we can help you if you are in jail . . . we cannot help you if you are dead." And unfortunately, they've had to use this advice, a LOT.  

When I look back now on that little girl who cried when I was told about those four schoolgirls who died in the Birmingham Church Bombing, or the mother who cried when we took the big girls to Central High School National Historical Monument, I see a slow evolution. When I teach my children and my students about the "I have a Dream" speech, I can hear that as a country, we've made some progress. However, on this particular day, I admit, I am disheartened. Once again, our country is trying to suppress voter rights (read: disenfranchise voter rights, particularly to minorities), and it kills me. I had hope following George Floyd's horrific death, but the hope was short lived. In the end, the dollar wins out. When we will stop putting our personal finances into our political views and deciding right and wrong based on what benefits my bank account? When will we stop FEARING the unknown and decide to know what we don't know. How many of us will read a 400 Souls, A Community History of African America, 1619-2019? It's my new pick for my first non-fiction of the year. I challenge you to read it with me, but be warned: Since it is written in 5 year increments, that is going to be a lot of slavery to understand. Do the math. The blind, enduring criminality of slavery just boggles my mind.

I'm almost off my soapbox. As long as I/we are allowing the work of equity to be someone else's work, we are harming Americans. I am harming Americans. We have to keep fighting for progress, bit by bit. And the good/bad news is: it starts with us, with me. . . with you. 

You May Not be as Good at Multitasking as You Think!

I used to think I was a good multi-tasker and, honestly, it still says so on my resume. I know it's a sham though. Recently I heard a couple of UT professors (Two Guys on Your Head) speaking about multi-tasking and was reminded that I can't actually do it. To put it bluntly, they said something to the effect of: Humans don't multitask. We only have processor. We can do exactly one thing at a time.

Younger folks are apparently better at looking like they're multi-tasking because they can switch between tasks with less effort and more easily remember where they were on the last task. My teens, for example, texting a friend while working on homework, can remember both where they are on the homework and where they are in multiple conversations. Is it the most efficient way to study? No, but it can be done. Nonetheless, it is still not multi-tasking in it's true meaning; it's actually doing one thing at a time in rapid succession. (There is an exception: behavior that has become automatic - toileting, etc.)  At my age (over 50), I'd have to be re-reading the texts to remember where I was and marking the homework in some way so as not to lose my place. 

This was all too obvious yesterday when I was working in the drive through at the bank by myself for a period. We had 5 lanes open so I had to keep speaking to customers as I worked on other's transactions, remember what each person needed and keep all the tubes in arrival order. I did this better than I thought I could but it was very challenging. I kept hearing myself say, "Where was I?"

So did I just write all this to ruin your day? Not at all. I am actually proposing (for myself and you) an alternative. Maybe it is not necessary to keep so many balls in the air at once.  Our rapidly growing technology may have lured us into thinking we have to stay in touch with all our "friends," take phone calls any hour of the day and night, respond to every text and stay caught up on email and Facebook, but it's not actually true. There is something to be said for driving my car without talking on the phone. There is something to be gained from sleeping, uninterrupted by text. There is preciousness in giving my family my undivided attention.

You get the idea. Some attempts at multi-tasking are crucial. No matter what you are doing, you can't take your eye off that toddler, right? However, a lot of it is not only unproductive and unnecessary, it's stealing quality from my life. When I get home from work today, I'm going to turn off my phone, leave my computer stowed, turn on some music and just enjoy Saturday with my peeps. How about you?

Marriage and Fulfillment

I was born at the dawn of the era of "free love" and grew to adulthood in the "me" generation.  While I was raised in a conservative home, like most young people I thought the purpose of relationship and marriage was to be "happy" and "fulfilled."  In fact, I think we thought it our right. The shocking divorce rate of my lifetime is testament to this belief.   But what if there are other reasons for marriage?

At one time, relationships were preludes to marriage and marriage was an economic as well as a social arrangement. For most of our human history, the majority of marriages were arranged and love had little (if anything) to do with it.  Fulfillment was not part of the arrangement.  It was an institution based on cooperation and commitment.

One of the main purposes of marriage was to produce progeny.  Staying in marriage ensured the future of those children.  If marriage was a challenge, or a struggle or an outright trial, that wasn't really surprising.  Fulfillment was not expected but cooperation was.

Before people get up in arms, let me clarify that I'm not suggesting a return to this system which was an easy set-up for abuse.  I believe every person has the right to choose his or her spouse; I believe no person should be expected to endure ongoing abuse (of any kind) from another.  I believe children have to right to be raised in a home without fear.

That said, I do think we can "take a page" from history.  The guiding belief that marriages should be mutually fulfilling -- that the other person is responsible in some measure for our happiness --is not working.  If we are going to stick to that principal we are going to see the final destruction of the family.  Relationships do not move in a steady straight line; rather, relationships have seasons.  We have fair weather and foul.  We must learn to weather the storm and not abandon ship at the first sign of rough seas. (Sorry for the nautical tangent there.  Aye, matey!)


In any long term relationship, there will be seasons of discontent -- yours or theirs -- you can count on it.  These seasons may seem longer and tougher than the seasons of joy but perhaps that is because we think we deserve the joy and we don't deserve the other.  Thoughts can morph quickly into expectations which morph just as quickly into rights.  We don't have a right to happiness, we have the right to pursue it.

How will our children learn to weather the storms of their life if not from our example?  Our examples of grace and forgiveness (or the opposite!) will be the brick and mortar they carry to their own marriage.  If I am honest about my my process, if I talk openly about love and marriage and all that is required, perhaps they will be well prepared.  They have their own way to make but I can equip them for that task.

I think it is time for re-framing both relationship and marriage.  There are a million books on the subject but in the end, there is no quick fix.  The change must come from within.  What if we just let go our expectations and dealt with what is, right here, right now?  What if, instead of trying to get the other person to meet my needs, I take that responsibility as solely my own?

What if there is something to be learned from occasional suffering?  I am not suggesting martyrdom here, in fact, quite the opposite. I am suggesting that in time of trial, we see what is being required of us, and rise to the challenge.  Perhaps there is something to be learned from the old timers.  It is rare these days that someone marries from a sense of duty or responsibility, but that does not keep us from taking up that mantle.  I am free at any time to recreate my purpose for the relationship.

Fulfillment starts with me.  It ends here too.

Right Here, Right Now

Recently I read these lines by the witty and wise blogger Simcha Fisher: 

. . . I'm not looking at the road ahead of me.
All I can see is the road I've left behind,
and while I'm processing this information,
I'm still hurtling ahead,
driving faster than normal
because I'm anxious and tense.

Isn't this how it goes?  It's just the case that at times we are speeding though our lives, totally consumed with the mess and wreckage behind us-- with an occasional focus on not crashing into our future-- and utterly unaware of the beauty of right here, right now.

Right here.  

Right now.

Right here with my two-year-old and three-year-old just out of sight but playing a sweet game in which one is now called "Michael" and the other is now "Sophia."  

Right now with my younger teen asleep, literally, at my feet; looking so sweet and childlike because she is, in fact, still a child, something I fail to remember at times.

Right here with the house smelling of eggs and corn tortilla and the breakfast dishes piled in the sink.

Right now with 3 loads of laundry waiting to be completed and a birthday cake yet to be baked.

Right here there is a bird waxing poetic just outside the window where I write; and a cat on this side watching intently and wishing she were out there.

 

Right now there is room in my heart for my large, loving family and miraculously I am able to hold space for other things too.

 

Right here on a bright and bloomy spring day that smells of breeze and lilac and sun-warmed dirt.

Right now when I have every single thing I ever dared to dream, and lack for absolutely nothing.

So all that craziness that is behind me is, after all, the pavement on the road that brought me  . . .

right  . . . here . . . right . . .now.

Ah.

My Repository of Work

Recently I was considering a Renaissance artist with the family and we spoke about his repository of work.  We pondered which of his masterpieces he would consider worthy of our focus and which pieces he would consider "not his best work."  As we conversed, the realization slowly dawned on me that this fine artist, has no posthumous control over what we saw as his life's work.

This left me pondering my own "repository of work."  I've held a good many jobs, many of them "people oriented."  I produced some fine documents, set many appointments, and served up some platters full of good food back at the Country Kitchen in the 70s.  None of those things will survive me.  I also ministered to hundreds of children (sometimes less gracefully than at other times), enrolled a lot of people into WOW, and coached some fine souls. These days, of course, my repository of work consists of a few blogs about a busy but simple life in a graceful but typical subdivision, and many hours of dishes, laundry, homeschooling, and story reading.

My repository of work, both in the past and now, consists mainly in the hearts and minds of people whose lives I have been so honored to encounter.  It's a largely invisible and apparently abtruse body of work.  Therein lies the battlefield.

We live in an achievement-based culture.  In my rare forays into all-adult settings, I'm asked over and over, "Where do you work?"  After responding with an occasional lack of clarity that I work at home caring for my family, I am quite frequently asked, "Well, what did you do before that?"  Ironically, those answers are often equally disappointing for my poor inquirer who is seeking to appreciate me through what I have achieved.

I know there are mothers who feel undervalued.  That is not the case with me.  I see the value of what I do, so I do not (typically) get "up in arms" when others don't get it.  It's just so very hard to explain in the few words most are seeking.

I have been trying out a few things lately to describe my body of work.  "I challenge people to live life brightly and support them on their journey."  It sounds too airy and high-falutin' doesn't it?  (I think I've been reading too many marketing books!) So I've switched to my original answer and after I give it rather than wait for the next question, I pat them on the shoulder or give them a kiss on the cheek -- a situational decision, obviously -- and beat a hasty retreat.

"I'm a house-wife.  I stay home and love my family."

That is my repository of work.  It sits just right.

Taking a Deep Breath

Day 3 of our 10 day Family Re-Charge is already passing; the youngest are in bed so I will take the opportunity to reflect.  Some time ago I made a commitment not to have my laptop between my children and me; but the challenge for me is not getting driven about all there is to do around me. There is -- quite literally -- always one more load of clothes, things on the counters, another load of dishes, floors to maintain, another meal to prepare, one more thing.   I am good about doing stuff with the kids in the mornings but after naptime, I ramp up! 

I don't know if I have mentioned it but on Friday, I withdrew my oldest daughter (10th grade) from school and have brought her home to school again.  Today we have re-instituted our afternoon tea time; it fell by the wayside a few months back and we are picking it back up.  I sit with any of the kids who want to sit at the table and we have tea (o la leche o el agua).  Usually we have some nuts and a sweet of some kind or bits of cheese and crackers; the main thing is, it's a great time to reconnect. [We older girls drink from antique tea cups passed down on my hubby's side.] I just sip my tea and chat with the children and it eases something in me.  It's a deep breath.  I am able to fix supper and enjoy the time in the kitchen;  the kids have had my full attention so they are able to do something else whilst I cook.

When Paul gets home, everyone is in a calmer state.  We enjoy our evening meal so much more -- it's as if you can taste the peacefulness in it.  And because the cooking and eating goes more smoothly, it seems as if I am able to whistle through bedtime and then truly enjoy the evening and reconnecting with Paul.  I don't feel so stretched.   I don't think he knows why this is, but I am quite certain he knows when we've not had our tea time because something is just not sitting right.

My other "answer" - if you will -to the re-charge questions is that I have carved out a half hour between getting my middle child on the bus and waking the others in which I can have a devotional period.  It has taken some work to achieve this time;  I frequently get to say "no, thank you" to requests for waking someone or other during this period.  This is when I do my reflecting on my spiritual state and set my compass for the day ahead.  At the very end of this time, I check my calendar for the day. 

So I have the beginning "regulator" set and the late afternoon re-set; I lack something before bed  to book-end the day.  I have recently begun a practice of oil cleaning my face; I have decided  to give myself a five minute facial massage each evening and go to bed with a soft, clean face to welcome the night's dreams.  I hold so much stress in my face; now I shall be sending it down the drain!

So appreciating the work for each day, Erin Barrette Goodman.  Muchas gracias!

Simplicity: A Pipe Dream?

I am a lover of simplicity.  I am attracted by it and yet I find it a complicated thing to achieve.  The more people I live with, the harder it is to come by that simplicity.

Yesterday we were in IKEA and they have a fascinating display there, a 621 square foot "family home."  It has two very compact bedrooms, a bath, a living room and a surprisingly spacious kitchen/dining area.  I stood in there and looked around while Sunshine stood on the outside with the three little ones because there were a couple of shoppers in there in addition to me and there wasn't room for any more people.  I was thinking how in that tiny space, there was not room for even one of my children's possessions.  Yet it appealed to me so much; the clean lines, the lack of clutter, the simplicity - it drew me in.

As a child, my imagination was captured by the Laura Ingalls Wilder series of books.  I fantasized about living in that age where kids romped through wheat fields and Pa milked the cow.  I longed for the freedom of that open space and even more, to have the simple desire of a single sweet for Christmas.  I wanted to sit around the fire with the whole family and listen to Pa play the fiddle.  I knew that in reality, ma's hands were rough and red from the constant manual labor, that Pa was too tired to play that fiddle except perhaps on winter Sundays and that those kids could only go to school a few weeks a year because the rest of the time they were working very hard;  Laura probably wasn't jealous of Nellie Olson's possessions so much as her leisure. Nonetheless, I craved the simplicity.

I spend part of every day decluttering.  I give away truckloads of STUFF every year.  If I get something new for the kitchen, I give away something else.  But no one would say we have a simple life. 

There is more to living simply than not having so much stuff.  I am making more progress on some of those fronts; when we had babies, we used a lot of "old fashioned" baby stuff, like cloth diapers and nowadays, cloth training pants.  We don't get perms or color our hair (normally, anyway), we cook from scratch and we keep trying to garden.  We eat locally mostly, we focus on seasonal foods and we ride bikes with petals, not motorized kid cars and scooters.  We read books, we color with regular crayons, and the youngsters watch little tv and don't play video games.  My motto is taken from World War II, "Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without." 

Yet we are still enmeshed in conspicuous consumption.  We keep considering -and rejecting - solar energy; it seems like a risky investment in our hailstorm/tornado/windstorm prone area.  Many of our light-bulbs are incandescent because with three toddlers (including two boys) and one softball player, things are always flying through the air and the mercury in the new bulbs scares me.  Sometimes plastic wins over glass or wood in our house because of cost or safety concerns or both.  We have a lot of clothes so we don't have to wash them so often.  Life in a family of seven involves a lot of laundry, cooking, and entertaining the troops; certain shortcuts make life easier.

Sometimes I think simplicity is a pipe dream.  We make so many compromises.  Yet I cannot give up  because in many ways, I think the simplicity is what saves us.  I am not married to a man who is going to live in the woods and hunt for our food.  I'm too practical to wash my clothes by hand when Kenmore makes a great machine to do it for me.  It's a balancing act.  And a learning process.  Perhaps instead of seeking that ultimate simplicity the idea is to keep working toward a more simple life.  That fits.

A Single Resolution

I love resolutions.  I've said this before.  The idea of a "fresh start" is just so alluring.  I do it every year.  This year I am keeping it simple.  Here is my resolution for 2012:

I will set higher standards for myself and lower my expectations of everyone else. 

I have noticed that over time, I stop "bringing my best."  Yet I don't really want to live life halfway.  I will implement it in every area of life, from exercise to fun;  why have half as much fun as is on offer?  I want it all, baby!

I am also keenly aware of my tendency to be critical of others -- so I am choosing to actively censor that critic and become more embracing of others just as they are, especially my nearest and dearest!

What about you?  Are you making any New Year's Resolutions this year?

Unplugging the Christmas Machine

'Tis the season.  The season of shopping, decorating, holiday parties, baking, wrapping, and anticipating.  All too often in my life, it's the season of extreme busy-ness, "have-tos" and unmet expectations.  This year, I'm unplugging the Christmas machine.

The reality is that with 5 kids, a certain amount of "busy" comes with the territory.  And the equal reality is that much of what is on the family calendar and on the to-do list does not "have" to be done.  This is going to be an Advent season of conscious choices.

Yesterday, for instance, was our foster care agency's Christmas party.  We'd have enjoyed that so much.  But that fun would have been sandwiched between church, picking up a child from a slumber party, my week to cook for the youth at church and Pepper's RE class.  It was already a full day; that "one more thing" was the thing that threatened to be the apple that upset the whole cart.  I said, "No thank you."  I felt a little guilty.  Instead, we had a great day.  There was no pressure getting home from the Second Sunday of Advent.  I had plenty of time to both hang out with the little ones and  get ready for my team's cooking evening.  Everything simply went more smoothly because of that one less thing. 

"Advent" means the beginning, the commencement, and a new start.  Instead of seeing the Advent season as the weeks we speed through to get to Christmas, I'm looking at Advent as a new beginning.  We are preparing our hearts -- and maybe we will have time to prepare the house too.  We are slowing down and taking the scenic route through Advent to Christmas.  By the time we get there, we'll be ready -- I'll be ready. 

Part of BLORA lights display at Fort Hood (2010)

Yes, we will decorate and listen to the Christmas music;  we will bake and shop; we will wrap presents and celebrate with friends but we will not join in the holiday madness.  We'll have no batting coaching, no piano lessons and no "routine" doctor's appointments.  We'll choose carefully the holiday parties we attend and discern between true traditions and holiday habits.  We're unplugging the Christmas machine and plugging into family life.  Happy Advent!

21 Days of Gratitude Challenge

I love Thanksgiving.  Although the origins of the Thanksgiving holiday are in dispute, what seems clear is that it was a feast shared amongst two communities --the Plymouth settlers and the Wampamoag Tribe -- to celebrate the bountiful harvest.  Some versions of the holiday were celebrated in various places in the colonies and states afterward.  In 1863, a war beleaguered  President Abraham Lincoln made it official. It was a brilliant idea to set aside a day specifically for being grateful not only for the table heaped with food, but especially for the community on whom we depend.

This time of year I make lists of people for whom I am grateful.  I began this tradition several years ago as a way to kick-start a fund-raising team.  Starting tomorrow on Thanksgiving and for 21 days I will honor each day people who have had a life-changing effect on me.  I have a simple way to call them to mind; here is how I am making my list this year:

• 3 people I am concerned about
• 3 people who help me in my daily life
• 3 people who have servant's hearts
• 3 figures from history
• 3 "elders" from my "tribe"
• 3 teachers or mentors
• 3 community leaders 

Once I make the list, I put the names on my calendar along with an action for each one.  I will write thank-you notes, make phone calls and set lunch dates with some of these folks.  For others I will offer a meal or a dedicated prayer time on their behalf. I may write a poem, a memorial essay or a blog.  I will read a book or watch a video about my historical figures; at least one of these will be a children's book shared with my kids. As I go through this season, I will talk to my family about whom I am celebrating and why.  Maybe in this way, I can plant the seeds of gratitude in them, as well.

These 21 days are a part of my private advent prepartion; they serve to remind me of how truly fortunate I am and how much I depend on my community.  They take my focus off shopping and eating and help me put my mind on the true meaning of the holiday season -- both Thanksgiving and Christmas.  These remembrances inspire, evoke and humble me.
 
I challenge you to try it for yourself.  (And let me know if you do!)

Slow-cation

For the past months, I've been looking forward to our upcoming family vacation.  We are having a reunion of sorts; we are meeting my niece and her family, my nephew and his wife, my sister (mom to those two)\my parents, and my brother's son and daughter  in Colorado.  It's "in the middle" -- about a thousand miles for each of us -- but still a journey of some considerable distance.

We have a family tradition of slow travel.  Dear hubby and I were both raised on the "road trip."  I flew on a plane perhaps twice in my childhood; our trips were taken by car.  I believe in the togetherness a car trip promotes.

In fact, our vacations tend to be slow ones.  I think it's good for kids to be bored on occasion and to learn to make their own fun.  On one long trip where we headed due west and only turned north when we hit central California, I admit I was dreading the long miles of desert.  The girls, then 7 and 5, taught me something on that trip;  they had many conversations about how the desert was changing as we traveled west.  By the time we spent a night camping in tiny Brenda, Arizona surrounded by the towering saguaro cactii, I was in love with the desert.

Like so many of our family trips, this one will also be a camping trip.  Many years ago we bought a pop-up trailer to ease the workload a bit, but it is definitely still camping!  From our first day out, our lunch stops will be at state parks with a picnic.  Our suppers will be around the picnic table in our campsite.  Both the big girls, camping veterans by now, are already anticipating grilled fajitas, s'mores, apple cobbler, and sloppy joes. 

I am looking forward to something else.  I'm looking forward to seeing our kids running around in the trees.  I can't wait to see what kind of games they invent given a media free gift of time outdoors.  I am curious about how "the littles" will enjoy this new freedom and anxious to see everyone playing with my great niece and nephew.  I will relish the opportunity to sit around and talk over the world's troubles with my family.  I look forward to waking with the sun and being happy to fall in bed once the stars are out.  I can't wait to look at those stars and to see the "littles" be amazed by how many stars you can see once you are in the real wilderness. 

Pepper on a cool morning in Big Bend, 2005.

When my kids are grown up, I want them to know the crackle of a campfire, the taste of a cold morning in a pine forest, the smell of coffee and canvas, and the warm cocoon of a flannel lined sleeping bag.   I want them to remember romping in the forest, the smell of dinner cooked on the grill, and the beauty of a protected wild place.  These are the sights, sounds, and smells of my childhood and the blueprint for our slow-cation.

My kids live in the modern world, as I did growing up.  They hang out on Facebook, play sports, watch TV and talk endlessly on the phone.  I do not think these things, in moderation, are inherently dangerous or evil.  Yet I do think that at times we all need to unplug.  We need to lose the laptop, the alarm clock, and the world of virtual friends.  We need to play like kids in open spaces and wash our face in a cool stream.  We need to learn about bugs and bears.  For me, the slow-cation is my opportunity to reclaim a part of American life and in so doing, reclaim myself.  Can't wait!

Announcement

My news of the day is that I have a new blog. I know, I know, I don't post that regularly here, but that is because what I often want to write about is my now-large family and all the life-changing things going on there. And I am thinking that those topics are not always a fit for this blog which is more from the Life Coach point of view.

The blog is called, "Bright Love - Living Large in a Big Family." It has a three-fold purpose:

1) to relate stories of life lived en mass
2) to share whatever I am learning about home management for seven people (and hopefully pick up a few tips on the way)
3) to chronicle the fun, funny, crazy life we lead because as I've learned with the older girls, time goes way fast.

I know this isn't for everyone and if it isn't for you, please recommend it to anyone who might enjoy it. I love the interaction on my blogs and since this one won't go on my Facebook feed, I'd like to build a little readership.

Thanks for reading and I'll be back soon with something on living a bright life!