Nothing deep today. I just need to ask rhetorically for a couple of questions. There are several things in the proverbial frying pan right now, and I suppose airing it may bring suggestions from others or clarity from myself.
1) The economic mess. My rhetorical question is... what WERE we all thinking?
It's easy to blame Bush, blame Wall Street, blame anyone that has more than a 100K in the bank. But let's face it. Everyone in the world was ga-ga over the real estate market when it was booming. Interest rates were at 40 year lows. Home equity was as plentiful as air. And I can't remember anyone who was really riding through the streets like Paul Revere warning of an economic collaspe based on the greediness of both loaners and debtors.
The fact remains that the Bible warns us about credit in all its forms. There's not ONE instance that credit is mentioned in a positive light. We as a country are simply reaping the consequences God warned Israel about in Isaiah 24.
BEHOLD, THE LORD maketh the earth empty, and maketh it waste, and turneth it upside down, and scattereth abroad the inhabitants thereof. 2 And it shall be, as with the people, so with the priest; as with the servant, so with his master; as with the maid, so with her mistress; as with the buyer, so with the seller; as with the lender, so with the borrower; as with the taker of usury, so with the giver of usury to him. 3 The land shall be utterly emptied, and utterly spoiled: for THE LORD hath spoken this word. (KJV)
Sorry, no one is exempt. If you can't pay, you shouldn't buy.
This has provided a great opportunity for me to teach the kids that even banks and governments are subject to the same financial realities that our family faces every day. In a sense, the only salvation of our economy will be the individual family's ability to survive without relying on the institutions that we have allowed to have too much influence over us. Why should I worry about whether Lehman Brothers or AIG has enough assets to cover their own debts, if I have saved enough to cover my own needs? Yes, I know we rely on investments and the like in this system, but in principle, if we simply live on less than we make and save the rest, no one will find themselves in the turmoil of not being able to have the "mattress" fund available for emergencies. I'm preaching to myself as well - we had a emergency fund but it's been eaten up several times this year. My loathing of credit was broken down by the lure of quick fixes, of taking my wife with me on trips that I knew I couldn't afford but didn't want to be alone on.
But never has the result of my use of credit been positive. If anything can be learned from this mess, it should be that we can't ignore the pains of the future for the pleasures of today's purchases. That goes for McCain, Obama, Pelosi, and especially for the Pauls.
2) Fitting in...how do you do it? and should you?
My wife and I have decided we will refer to our social / racial status in cookie terms. Specifically, we are now considering ourselves "ginger snaps." You remember Ginger Snaps - the orange and white box with the hard cookies that had that 'bite' to it. You don't eat a Ginger Snap when you have a sweet tooth craving. It's not the coolness of an Oreo, or the comfort of a Nilla wafer. It shakes you up a bit, and doesn't easily fit into a cookie category.
In the same sense, Miki and I are not your common cookie cutter couple. We are equally at home with John Cage, John Mayer and John Legend. Our radio in the morning is set to "Steve Harvey", in the evening to "Glenn Beck". (I would mention Rush Limbaugh but I'm afraid of being castigated by my kids and wife, who don't like him) We're Kirk Franklin on Sunday morning and Chris Tomlin on Sunday night. We homeschool from 9 to 3 and then go to open houses at the high school from 7 to 9. We veer from noticing racist tendencies in 'white' society to decrying the subtle racism we see in our own African -American culture. At times we have felt the ire of those who noticed we did not automatically take up the "cause" of equal rights - that is, in the way that blacks have traditionally seen that fight since the 1960's. We choose to see equality as the right to be equally independent, rather to be unequivocally linked to a mass groupthink cultural monolith. Miki, with her racially mixed background of Hispanic and Carribean ancestry, is especially sensitive to the lack of connection with others that 'get her'. At the same time, we understand that much of what we have become is owed to the strong traditional African American culture that we interface with most often. We just feel like we don't quite match the smoothness and ease that others may have in our social landscape. So the 'snappiness' comes out. We are in the same aisle as the vanilla and the chocolate, but when you dig in, you get much more than a simple flavor. You get the edginess of someone who's looking for a way in, and a way out. Of those that acknowledge the obvious, but won't always accept it. Of people that are slowly realizing that to simply blend in is to deny the uniqueness that our experience and our emotion adds to our relationships. Ginger may have a bitter taste at the beginning, but at the end it has a soothing effect. We certainly have needed that balance in dealing with our various challenges, and I suppose we should be grateful we can be ourselves with each other, even while we decide whether our taste is compatible with a very chocolate or vanilla only world.
More later on our homeschool progress - suffice it to say I'm already feeling like I need to put the pedal to the metal, 'cause Marcus and Naomi are braking a little too much.
Looking unto the hills ,
homeschooldaddy
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
The Digital Connection
I think it was today, when I received an audio chat invitation from my 11 year old, Marcus, from inside my house, that I realized it had happened. We have officially become totally wired.
Each member of the family now has their own laptop. Miki and I have become Twitter, Facebook and My Space addicts (with My Space now a distant third for me - just too much stuff to keep up with.) I've been going through PDA withdrawal now for three days since my iPod touch went missing. Marcus does Virtual School through the web. Naomi turns in assignments to me through Home-school-inc.com, and messages me even when she's only 10 steps away. Christopher rarely detaches his Blackjack from his fingers for fear losing contact with the phone will signal an early social demise.
Not that I will start pining for the days of tin cans and string being the most advanced communication system available. It would be hypocritical in the least for me to blame my kids for being enthralled by their gadgets when their father practically lives on them. It is simply striking how naturally the digital lifestyle fits them, when some of this technology - Google Maps, audio and video chatting, GPS, etc. - barely existed when they were born.
One topic I am sincerely interested in studying with the kids is how all this technology works. I mean, really - how does my voice show up in a little device a thousand miles away, instantaneously? What kind of electromagnetic energy allows for transmissions from a satellite to my TV dish? And, probably most important, how many people still understand the underpinnings of our digital infrastructure? Is there a self-sustaining brain trust of the finest scientists teaching the next generation of collegiate technocrats? Or, like our economic meltdown, is it simply a house of cards constructed by behemoth companies that no longer understand the depth or complexity of the systems they constructed to support all these technologies? And can we, as consumers of the digital world, continue to be ignorant of how much these systems run our daily lives?
All this puzzles me as I twitter, blog, Skype, and text my way into that same technology driven connection between my closest friends and my most interesting strangers. The connections that this digital lifestyle creates also gives me pause. When did our lives become so fragmented that the only way we feel connected is by placing our thoughts, one moment at a time, on this tapestry of consciousnesses known as Twitter? I've quickly become very interested in seeing people's entries ("Tweets" for the uninitiated), as they give me a glimpse into how other people get through the day. Perhaps it's because each of us feel like no one else really sees us, anymore. The effort to say, "my thoughts, my feelings matter" has been the single driving force behind the advance of the social media tech boom. When people feel disenfranchised from government, or family, or country in a tangible sense, who else is there to turn to but the blogger across the country that is willing to read your complaints and compliments, that seems to have more in common with you than the neighbor that's been across the street for years, but still doesn't know your name?
By no means do I mean to imply that bloggers or Twitterers have no physical or social connections outside of the web. Far from it. I do think it is indicative of our current state that we now feel more connected with who are with us ideologically than who are around us physically. Both my wife and I have been struck by the feeling that many times those around us are simply acquaintances, but not really friends. The hardest part is determining whether it is the fear of rejection by our peers that drives us to connect to our web connections - because they choose to come to us, and it's instant validation. There's no pain of getting to know you, of sharing my intimate feelings before acceptance. There's a click, and a reading of a 120 character bio, some common tag words, and we're linked. Linked in a way that is both entrancing and, perhaps, unrealistic. But only time will tell if our new Internet personalities end up enhancing or diminishing our ability to connect eye to eye, face to face, voice to voice, instead of Voice to Voice Over Internet Protocol.
I must go now though. My cell phone needs charging, my online planner is in need of updating, and online bills must be paid. Maybe I'll unplug one of these weekends and show I'm able to give up all the wiredness, quit cold turkey. Surely I'm not addicted to the point that I can't do a non-digital day. You'll see.
Well, after I buy a new iPod Touch, that is.
Looking unto the hills,
homeschooldaddy
Each member of the family now has their own laptop. Miki and I have become Twitter, Facebook and My Space addicts (with My Space now a distant third for me - just too much stuff to keep up with.) I've been going through PDA withdrawal now for three days since my iPod touch went missing. Marcus does Virtual School through the web. Naomi turns in assignments to me through Home-school-inc.com, and messages me even when she's only 10 steps away. Christopher rarely detaches his Blackjack from his fingers for fear losing contact with the phone will signal an early social demise.
Not that I will start pining for the days of tin cans and string being the most advanced communication system available. It would be hypocritical in the least for me to blame my kids for being enthralled by their gadgets when their father practically lives on them. It is simply striking how naturally the digital lifestyle fits them, when some of this technology - Google Maps, audio and video chatting, GPS, etc. - barely existed when they were born.
One topic I am sincerely interested in studying with the kids is how all this technology works. I mean, really - how does my voice show up in a little device a thousand miles away, instantaneously? What kind of electromagnetic energy allows for transmissions from a satellite to my TV dish? And, probably most important, how many people still understand the underpinnings of our digital infrastructure? Is there a self-sustaining brain trust of the finest scientists teaching the next generation of collegiate technocrats? Or, like our economic meltdown, is it simply a house of cards constructed by behemoth companies that no longer understand the depth or complexity of the systems they constructed to support all these technologies? And can we, as consumers of the digital world, continue to be ignorant of how much these systems run our daily lives?
All this puzzles me as I twitter, blog, Skype, and text my way into that same technology driven connection between my closest friends and my most interesting strangers. The connections that this digital lifestyle creates also gives me pause. When did our lives become so fragmented that the only way we feel connected is by placing our thoughts, one moment at a time, on this tapestry of consciousnesses known as Twitter? I've quickly become very interested in seeing people's entries ("Tweets" for the uninitiated), as they give me a glimpse into how other people get through the day. Perhaps it's because each of us feel like no one else really sees us, anymore. The effort to say, "my thoughts, my feelings matter" has been the single driving force behind the advance of the social media tech boom. When people feel disenfranchised from government, or family, or country in a tangible sense, who else is there to turn to but the blogger across the country that is willing to read your complaints and compliments, that seems to have more in common with you than the neighbor that's been across the street for years, but still doesn't know your name?
By no means do I mean to imply that bloggers or Twitterers have no physical or social connections outside of the web. Far from it. I do think it is indicative of our current state that we now feel more connected with who are with us ideologically than who are around us physically. Both my wife and I have been struck by the feeling that many times those around us are simply acquaintances, but not really friends. The hardest part is determining whether it is the fear of rejection by our peers that drives us to connect to our web connections - because they choose to come to us, and it's instant validation. There's no pain of getting to know you, of sharing my intimate feelings before acceptance. There's a click, and a reading of a 120 character bio, some common tag words, and we're linked. Linked in a way that is both entrancing and, perhaps, unrealistic. But only time will tell if our new Internet personalities end up enhancing or diminishing our ability to connect eye to eye, face to face, voice to voice, instead of Voice to Voice Over Internet Protocol.
I must go now though. My cell phone needs charging, my online planner is in need of updating, and online bills must be paid. Maybe I'll unplug one of these weekends and show I'm able to give up all the wiredness, quit cold turkey. Surely I'm not addicted to the point that I can't do a non-digital day. You'll see.
Well, after I buy a new iPod Touch, that is.
Looking unto the hills,
homeschooldaddy
Sunday, September 21, 2008
A Perfectionist Perspective
How easy life would be if we could truthfully believe what we want to believe about ourselves.
I would love to believe that I'm never motivated by selfish concerns. Would be enthralled by a sense of purpose and clarity in all my actions, coming from a heart of gold and a spiritual mindset.
If only.
Truth is, it's dreadfully easy to fool yourself. P.T. Barnum said "There's a sucker born every minute", but he could have been referring to each of us as suckers for self-deception. When you think you're free of pride, or of making decisions to boost your own self worth rather than others, that's when reality steps in and shows you that you're prone to the same issues that the preening pop star or the pompous politician wrestle with. Not only that, it's tiring sometimes to keep evaluating yourself. Paul implied in Corinthians that he did not even judge himself, and perhaps that's why he had so much energy and focus on God - because judging yourself is a time and emotion consuming enterprise.
So to put practical meat on this metaphysical bone of an introduction, I'm again dealing with a situation where I felt my desires weren't met. (Yes, it's a church thing, as usual) Our services today were at a high school auditorium. Now, as I should, I'll list the successes of the morning: 1300 in attendance, numerous re-dedications and conversions to Christ, a beautiful display of dance, mime, and musical worship, and a dynamic Word from our Pastor. And what did I come away with?
Yep, perfectionist that I am, the negatives overshadowed it. As someone who does programs every week, I should expect the unexpected. But still, when the sound wasn't working, when the offering was shifted without my knowledge, when the song didn't last long enough for offering and we had to pull out an unrehearsed number, and especially when my family ended up walking (Walking!) from the auditorium because I had to break down the equipment and take it back at the church (no room for family in the SUV when it's full of drums and keyboards), well, I didn't feel very spiritual afterward.
So am I selfish?
Where does the line between disappointment and ungratefulness fall? The book I'm currently reading, "The Heart of the Artist", says perfectionist thinking leads to an all good or all bad type of analysis. Either we're on the mountaintop or in the valley. Emotionally, I think Jeremiah and Elijah, maybe even Jonah were like that in God's service. When things went well, they were high on God's truth and His victories. When things went south, they pleaded for release. I, too, have looked for release from trials that to others may seem trivial, but in the heart of the artist they get magnified a hundred times. We wear our hearts on our sleeves through our performance, and all too often they get knocked to the ground, and we can't distinguish whether we were in the right place or time to be offering up service for the pain of unrealized hopes or expectations.
If I had an answer for that type of feeling, a way of acknowledging desire for excellence without missing the point of selfless service, I'd probably have no need to write this entry, because I would have dealt with the problem and gone on about my business. But the struggle is part of the filtering process which allows me to see just where I am in this business of being authentic with myself and with others. Whether things go right is not as important as whether I go right - that is, move in the right direction.
As for family (the real priority), peaks and valleys also dominate the landscape. Peaks include the success of our first few lessons with Learning Language Arts through Literature. Both Marcus and Naomi like their books, and I feel better knowing we'll have a systematic schedule of dealing with grammar and handwriting (Marcus still sees no value in cursive, but I'm about to start requiring it. No other motivation seems to stick.) Our enrichment classes continue to be the highlight of their week. Marcus is developing delivery strategies for his already prodigious public speaking talents, and Naomi has become the stalwart practice queen of baton twirling.
Valleys, well, that would rest on my dear oldest son, who has not started off so well in his all-important junior year. At least he admitted his struggles in Pre-Calc, but transparency doesn't make the grades come up. Considering that he also has issues remembering homework and delivering assignments on time, I'm once again evaluating whether to continue this 'sink or swim' attitude toward his schooling. Knowing he'll be on his own in college and that he'll have to be self motivated and self correcting is one thing - having him fail to make the grades that will get him into the college in the first place is another. Again, not that I didn't expect the valleys, but they just don't seem to get any easier. So I'll sit down with him and really look at what's going on, make the tutor appointments, try to get him to take ownership while not letting him slip through the crack of the "everything's OK" cop-out defense. We'll have to see whether intervention brings results as well as a change in his approach - which I guess is still ultimately up to him. The perfectionist 'keep everything under control' method loses again, which means the 'walk by faith' method will have to kick in. And the journey continues.
After all that, just a little trip to Applebees can seem like an oasis of rest in a desert of bills, grades, and ministry hangups. And we did laugh there at Marcus' charming of the waitress, Naomi's deadpan delivery, and Christopher's quirky perceptions. Miki and I smile at each other more and more when we see them in action, because we simply can't figure out how either of us could have anything to do with how unique our childrens' perspectives are. It's no longer, "She gets that from you," or, "You're just like your..." They are individuals, and now we have to simply love and guide them into being who God wants them to be, not what we expected them to be. I can't say I know what's in store for them, but I know He'll be there with us as the ultimate Parent, and that's enough comfort for us to continue.
Looking unto the hills,
Homeschooldaddy
I would love to believe that I'm never motivated by selfish concerns. Would be enthralled by a sense of purpose and clarity in all my actions, coming from a heart of gold and a spiritual mindset.
If only.
Truth is, it's dreadfully easy to fool yourself. P.T. Barnum said "There's a sucker born every minute", but he could have been referring to each of us as suckers for self-deception. When you think you're free of pride, or of making decisions to boost your own self worth rather than others, that's when reality steps in and shows you that you're prone to the same issues that the preening pop star or the pompous politician wrestle with. Not only that, it's tiring sometimes to keep evaluating yourself. Paul implied in Corinthians that he did not even judge himself, and perhaps that's why he had so much energy and focus on God - because judging yourself is a time and emotion consuming enterprise.
So to put practical meat on this metaphysical bone of an introduction, I'm again dealing with a situation where I felt my desires weren't met. (Yes, it's a church thing, as usual) Our services today were at a high school auditorium. Now, as I should, I'll list the successes of the morning: 1300 in attendance, numerous re-dedications and conversions to Christ, a beautiful display of dance, mime, and musical worship, and a dynamic Word from our Pastor. And what did I come away with?
Yep, perfectionist that I am, the negatives overshadowed it. As someone who does programs every week, I should expect the unexpected. But still, when the sound wasn't working, when the offering was shifted without my knowledge, when the song didn't last long enough for offering and we had to pull out an unrehearsed number, and especially when my family ended up walking (Walking!) from the auditorium because I had to break down the equipment and take it back at the church (no room for family in the SUV when it's full of drums and keyboards), well, I didn't feel very spiritual afterward.
So am I selfish?
Where does the line between disappointment and ungratefulness fall? The book I'm currently reading, "The Heart of the Artist", says perfectionist thinking leads to an all good or all bad type of analysis. Either we're on the mountaintop or in the valley. Emotionally, I think Jeremiah and Elijah, maybe even Jonah were like that in God's service. When things went well, they were high on God's truth and His victories. When things went south, they pleaded for release. I, too, have looked for release from trials that to others may seem trivial, but in the heart of the artist they get magnified a hundred times. We wear our hearts on our sleeves through our performance, and all too often they get knocked to the ground, and we can't distinguish whether we were in the right place or time to be offering up service for the pain of unrealized hopes or expectations.
If I had an answer for that type of feeling, a way of acknowledging desire for excellence without missing the point of selfless service, I'd probably have no need to write this entry, because I would have dealt with the problem and gone on about my business. But the struggle is part of the filtering process which allows me to see just where I am in this business of being authentic with myself and with others. Whether things go right is not as important as whether I go right - that is, move in the right direction.
As for family (the real priority), peaks and valleys also dominate the landscape. Peaks include the success of our first few lessons with Learning Language Arts through Literature. Both Marcus and Naomi like their books, and I feel better knowing we'll have a systematic schedule of dealing with grammar and handwriting (Marcus still sees no value in cursive, but I'm about to start requiring it. No other motivation seems to stick.) Our enrichment classes continue to be the highlight of their week. Marcus is developing delivery strategies for his already prodigious public speaking talents, and Naomi has become the stalwart practice queen of baton twirling.
Valleys, well, that would rest on my dear oldest son, who has not started off so well in his all-important junior year. At least he admitted his struggles in Pre-Calc, but transparency doesn't make the grades come up. Considering that he also has issues remembering homework and delivering assignments on time, I'm once again evaluating whether to continue this 'sink or swim' attitude toward his schooling. Knowing he'll be on his own in college and that he'll have to be self motivated and self correcting is one thing - having him fail to make the grades that will get him into the college in the first place is another. Again, not that I didn't expect the valleys, but they just don't seem to get any easier. So I'll sit down with him and really look at what's going on, make the tutor appointments, try to get him to take ownership while not letting him slip through the crack of the "everything's OK" cop-out defense. We'll have to see whether intervention brings results as well as a change in his approach - which I guess is still ultimately up to him. The perfectionist 'keep everything under control' method loses again, which means the 'walk by faith' method will have to kick in. And the journey continues.
After all that, just a little trip to Applebees can seem like an oasis of rest in a desert of bills, grades, and ministry hangups. And we did laugh there at Marcus' charming of the waitress, Naomi's deadpan delivery, and Christopher's quirky perceptions. Miki and I smile at each other more and more when we see them in action, because we simply can't figure out how either of us could have anything to do with how unique our childrens' perspectives are. It's no longer, "She gets that from you," or, "You're just like your..." They are individuals, and now we have to simply love and guide them into being who God wants them to be, not what we expected them to be. I can't say I know what's in store for them, but I know He'll be there with us as the ultimate Parent, and that's enough comfort for us to continue.
Looking unto the hills,
Homeschooldaddy
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
The Perils of Caring
In one of the Star Trek movies (the Next Generation, not the classic Kirk ones), Lt. Commander Data, the super smart android, gets an emotion chip that allows him to feel. He is almost overwhelmed by the flood of emotional content, from sadness to extreme giddiness, and laments how emotions can be so fulfilling and yet so destructive and debilitating. I have to concur. I sometimes wish I could take the emotional content of my brain, place it in a bottle, and label it as "contents under pressure", where I would shake it up and release it only when there was a safe perimeter where no one, including myself, would be hurt. Unfortunately, they remain within the fragile and all too easily breached container of my own being.
In short, I wish I didn't get hurt so easily, by rejection, failure, or the misery and rejection of others. It makes for a poor leader that can't handle watching his followers take a necessary hit of humble pie, even when they need it. It also makes a less than appealing husband, when it's necessary for one of us, namely me, to maintain a sense of optimism when my better half is feeling the worse. And as a father, I'm probably guilty of not showing my kids how to handle adversity without looking like adversity is handling me. There is a thin line between true grit and determination and false hope, but I know I've been too visibly down around the kids, and they know when things aren't right. Shutting off the dissapointments of life isn't healthy, but neither is the wallowing, and I've lost the balance lately.
Not that I can complain - the roof hasn't caved in yet (although these storms keep us on our toes - we can't call a roofer because the next storm is always two days away), the kids finally have their curriculum for the year, and the car has held up for three months longer than I thought it would. But relationship wise, I'm coming to realize that my desire for real friends and strong interdependant relationships has been unmet, because I have no safe area to vent. When I hear things like the craziness surrounding the elections, instead of thinking "Tsk, tsk", and going about my business, I instead feel like throwing the TV through the wall. I nearly cried when I heard our school superindentent was bought out over dumb personality conflicts and not over his actual job performance. Injustice and conflict seem to be daggers pointed directly at my heart, and I just wonder if there is a place where I could hole up and let someone else care.
I suppose there are things I could do. I could throw myself more into helping others, as I taught at Bible Study on Tuesday - find others lower than myself and help them up. I could spend more time with the kids and really get into their loves and desires, and keep myself from spending too much time worrying about my molehills masquerading as mountains. I could simply be more tough skinned, give myself a 1 Timothy pep talk about power, love and sound mind replacing the spirit of fear.
Or, I can admit that God made me tenderhearted. Admit that I may be wired to be sensitive to the cares of others, and accept the joys and pains of empathy. And when the darts of life pierce through the membrane of my emotional bubble, I can shuffle to my Father, holding it up like a child shows a mother his skinned knee, asking for a kiss of healing. The Father asks, "Show me where it hurts." I point to my heart, and wait for the feeling of being care for to wash over the pain and soothe the hurt over with a salve of security. No cream, Band-Aid, or antiseptic can do what that one kiss of comfort does - remind me that Someone cares more than I ever could.
Looking unto the hills,
homeschooldaddy
In short, I wish I didn't get hurt so easily, by rejection, failure, or the misery and rejection of others. It makes for a poor leader that can't handle watching his followers take a necessary hit of humble pie, even when they need it. It also makes a less than appealing husband, when it's necessary for one of us, namely me, to maintain a sense of optimism when my better half is feeling the worse. And as a father, I'm probably guilty of not showing my kids how to handle adversity without looking like adversity is handling me. There is a thin line between true grit and determination and false hope, but I know I've been too visibly down around the kids, and they know when things aren't right. Shutting off the dissapointments of life isn't healthy, but neither is the wallowing, and I've lost the balance lately.
Not that I can complain - the roof hasn't caved in yet (although these storms keep us on our toes - we can't call a roofer because the next storm is always two days away), the kids finally have their curriculum for the year, and the car has held up for three months longer than I thought it would. But relationship wise, I'm coming to realize that my desire for real friends and strong interdependant relationships has been unmet, because I have no safe area to vent. When I hear things like the craziness surrounding the elections, instead of thinking "Tsk, tsk", and going about my business, I instead feel like throwing the TV through the wall. I nearly cried when I heard our school superindentent was bought out over dumb personality conflicts and not over his actual job performance. Injustice and conflict seem to be daggers pointed directly at my heart, and I just wonder if there is a place where I could hole up and let someone else care.
I suppose there are things I could do. I could throw myself more into helping others, as I taught at Bible Study on Tuesday - find others lower than myself and help them up. I could spend more time with the kids and really get into their loves and desires, and keep myself from spending too much time worrying about my molehills masquerading as mountains. I could simply be more tough skinned, give myself a 1 Timothy pep talk about power, love and sound mind replacing the spirit of fear.
Or, I can admit that God made me tenderhearted. Admit that I may be wired to be sensitive to the cares of others, and accept the joys and pains of empathy. And when the darts of life pierce through the membrane of my emotional bubble, I can shuffle to my Father, holding it up like a child shows a mother his skinned knee, asking for a kiss of healing. The Father asks, "Show me where it hurts." I point to my heart, and wait for the feeling of being care for to wash over the pain and soothe the hurt over with a salve of security. No cream, Band-Aid, or antiseptic can do what that one kiss of comfort does - remind me that Someone cares more than I ever could.
Looking unto the hills,
homeschooldaddy
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