“Can I pray for you?” and other times you may not like my answer

Tonight, a man in Lowe’s asked me if I work there (I don’t. Lowe’s is my kryptonite). He then saw my splinted arm and asked how it happened, and if he could pray for me. He then assured me “I am Christian”.

I should have just said “yes” and “thank you”. I didn’t. I too am Christian, but the idea that we had an exclusive relationship with God has always bugged me. After 4 years in Disciple Bible Study, I realized why.

See, here’s the thing. I know my Bible…pretty well. As Christians, we look at Abraham as the real beginning of the Christian story. Abraham had Isaac, and when God tested Abraham’s loyalty (written as faith) by ordering the death of his son, Abraham passed, Isaac was saved, and the Jewish story (a necessary precursor to the Christian story) began.

But we Christians like to forget the rest of the story. Before Abraham was “Abraham” he was Ibrahim. Ibrahim had lots of children, but we only talk about Isaac and Ishmael. When Isaac set out to become the father of the Jews, Ishmael set out another direction and set the wheels in motion for the establishment of Islam. So we are literally the fruit of different branches of the same tree.

“But wait”, you say. The Bible quotes Jesus as saying ‘I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one enters the kingdom of heaven except through me.’ If following Jesus is necessary to get into Heaven, that means only Christians are saved.” (Picture the mic drop).

But, wait a minute. Hold onto your hats, there’s a truth bomb coming. Most major world religions believe in Jesus.

Wait…WHAT????!!! It’s true. Christians believe he’s the son of God. Jews believe he’s a high prophet. Some Muslims believe he’s a high prophet. Hindus believe he’s an incarnation of Vishnu (God). Buddhists believe he’s a bodhisattva (an incarnation of Buddha). My point is the vast majority of the world “believes” in Jesus in some form.

So, back to my blunder in the land of lumber. The nice man offered to pray for me, assuring me he is Christian. I responded that I will always take prayers, to whomever you offer them). He looked distraught. He started to argue “But…” and said “ok” and walked away.

It left me wondering if I’m getting any prayers from him tonight. And how I feel about it either way.

Forget Sunscreen—Wear Lipstick

Forget Sunscreen—Wear Lipstick

In 1997, a purported commencement speech went viral—before “going viral” was even a thing.  The lines were written by a woman, pirated by a man, and attributed in error to him.  The speech such the rage that a musician put the speech to music, and it went crazy on the radio.  Back when we still listened to the radio.  The opening line was catchy, telling us simply “wear sunscreen”.  Fast forward 23 years, and one “me too” movement later.  Now I have a little different advice for the ladies.  

Ladies, wear lipstick.  Now, before you all start writing hate mail about perpetuating stereotypes, let me explain.  First, this is NOT where I’m going to tell you to wear lipstick because “when you feel pretty, you are pretty” – a most obvious lie I can prove with some yearbook photos from the 90s.  This is also NOT where I tell you that putting on that lipstick will “get your day off to the right start” – that’s for coffee.  This is NOT where I tell you that putting on that lipstick “gives you confidence, because, when you look good you feel good.”  Also another clearly BS line, and actually the basis for this rant.

Ladies, none of those are the real reason to wear lipstick.  The real reason we wear lipstick is that, in the presence of lipstick, it’s all people see.  Got a black eye from an abusive boyfriend (or in my case, thrashing toddler)?  What do you do?  Dab on concealer and lipstick.  Nobody looks beyond the bright red lips to see the bruise.  At most, they may tell you that you look “tired”.  But, the miracle of lipstick is that the most likely reaction will be “Look at you, all dressed up!”  

Maybe you’re an executive giving an important speech.  What’s the last thing you do before it starts?  Freshen up the lipstick.  Why?  Because when people see lipstick, they see someone “put together”, “ready”, and “taking charge”.  They don’t look past the lipstick to see the crows-feet, laugh lines, or, in my case, old acne scars.  They don’t see the circles under your eyes from rewriting your whole speech at 2am.  They just see the lipstick.  

To me, the problem is that we live in a world that expects us, as women, to perpetually project sunshine and roses, which is why we’re commanded to smile ALL THE TIME.  In short, we are commanded to wear a façade of happiness, regardless of the circumstances.  Which begs the question “What if we all took off the lipstick?”  What if we actually let the world see the laugh lines, the crow’s feet, the circles under our eyes from the 3am feedings, the puking-all-night husband, the late-night budget sessions, or any of the other dozens of things that we lose sleep over?  

What do we think would happen?  

Sick and Dying of Being Fat-Shamed

I’m sick of being fat-shamed.  I just got the mri results on my knee, and I have severe arthritis.  I heard twice in the appointment that the real problem is that I’m fat.  Well, I am.  No duh.  But let’s get a reality check, can we?  

First, the tendency for arthritis is partly genetic, and I’ve got it in spades.  Dad has replaced both knees, Mom has rheumatoid arthritis.  Grandma and Grandpa both had it.  I don’t control that.

Second, I have been plagued with knee pain since I was a TODDLER.  My mother once told me I held my knees and cried.  I dropped out of soccer in fifth grade, because the joint pain after games was just too much.  Then puberty hit, and the weight started to grow.  But, once I was able to speak for myself, I was already fat, and doctors just pointed at my weight as the problem.  Now, it’s nearly impossible to get good medical care.  I’ve even been told my other chronic condition was caused by my weight ( when it was actually a birth defect).  

Now, let’s compound that with COVID-19 closing gyms and pools, and I’m not supposed to go walking, so…  I’ve spent the past 3 months sitting on my butt TEACHING YOUR CHILDREN.  So, no, I haven’t been exercising.  

I’m not eschewing all responsibility.  Every M&M that has passed these lips has been consensual.  But, today, my breakfast was an apple.  Sometimes that’s all I eat before dinner.  

My point is that fat people are judged differently on all fronts, and it’s incredibly frustrating.  My weight has cost me jobs (aka they questioned my “energy” or my ability to “project the right image”).  Doctors come into the room preloaded with how the problem is my weight (even when I git arthritis in my hands…all those handstands, I guess?).   The result is poor healthcare, so I’m less likely to get conditions treated when they do arise.  So, how is that upholding the oath to “do no harm”?

Learning to be still

So, anyone reading my blog (if there’s anyone left) will know that it has been a while since I’ve made an entry.  Since the last, I’ve changed jobs, helped a woman build a business, been laid off from said business, obtained another job, and been fired from that one when it turned out I couldn’t do the job without actually being trained for the job.  So, it’s been an eventful few years, to say the least.

Several years ago, I made the decision to change careers and become a teacher.  I even enrolled in the alternative teacher certification program.  But, before I could finish it, I got the request to help my tutoring client open her agency.  So, I put it on the back burner.  Then I picked it up again when I got laid off.  But, I only ended up out of work for 3 weeks, so I put it on the back burner again.

Four weeks ago, worried that I was not succeeding in my job as an underwriter, and still clinging desperately to an insurance career, I turned to prayer.  My prayer was simple, “Lord, please make me good at my job.”  And the next day, I was fired.  Now I could take this several ways:

1. There is no God (I reject this premise entirely)

2. There is a God, but he doesn’t care about me, or my job anxiety. (also rejected)

3.  Leaving me the final conclusion: This was not the job I’m supposed to be doing.

So, instead of taking the easy road and jumping into yet another insurance job (there’s always another insurance job), I’m learning to sit still for a minute.  Next week, I start substitute teaching, I’m tutoring more, and I’m finishing my teaching requirements.  And I’m not taking the next insurance job, just because.

I’m going to borrow a line from the Eagles and “learn to be still”.  We’ll see what happens.

The War on Intelligence

Normally my rants involve the inequalities between men and women in society. Today, I can report this rant affects both genders equally; the problem with intelligence. Not that people are stupid, but rather that intelligent people are forced to hide that intelligence in order to be accepted in society.

At a previous employer, I was once accused of being “scary smart” and repeatedly told that they weren’t as smart as I was, but it seemed to them…fill in the blank. Or when my best friend at the time accused me of defining words as I used them “so all us stupid people would understand.” That one really threw me because I had no idea what she was talking about. I later realized it is a pattern of speech my mother uses. So, it had nothing to do with looking down on anyone. It was how my mother spoke, so it was how I spoke. But, the assumption, by my BEST friend, was that I assumed she wouldn’t know what I meant.

This latest incident at work made me wonder when did we become intolerant of intelligence? Women have known for a long time that “playing dumb” was more effective on winning over men, and it had its advantages on the job, but we didn’t feel the need to do that in our friendships. And now men even seem to be affected. For example, you can tell Conan O’Brien he’s tall, and that’s okay; but tell him he’s smart (he went to Harvard, after all) and he’s compelled to deny it, and ham it up to prove he’s the “idiot” he often claims to be. And what could I possibly say to being called “scary smart”? “Thanks for the compliment. Sorry I frighten you”?

And the irony is intelligence is just a characteristic like height or hair color, but it is more acceptable for someone to call me “fat” than for me to say I’m smart.

Even this post will most likely be interpreted by some as me being an arrogant ass. It isn’t intended to be me tooting my own horn, but I recognize some people may interpret it that way. But, it ‘s a risk I will take, and face the consequences. Huh, maybe I’m not so smart after all.

To Olivia–fifteen years too late

Years ago, I taught preschool as one of several jobs during college. One of my favorite little girls was a beautiful black girl named Olivia who was 4 years old. She was a sweetheart, but like most sensitive souls, was prone to getting her feelings hurt, and was often in tears. So I didn’t think much of it when she threw her arms around my waist and sobbed that Marley had been “mean” to her. Preparing to launch into yet another lesson about not taking everything so hard, I asked, “What did Marley say this time?”.

Still sniffling, Olivia barely got it out, “She (huff) said (huff) that I was ugly.” she began to sob again. “She (hiccup) said she doesn’t like black people. She only likes white people”

My heart broke. I have no illusions that racism is dead in this country, but I would hope a 4 year-old would have a few more years of innocence than Olivia got. While she bravely tried to compose herself, I struggled for words of wisdom that would sooth her and heal her spirit. I had little to offer that day besides telling her she was beautiful, and Marley was wrong, only repeating things she had heard. I did the best I could, but I failed miserably.

Fifteen years older and wiser, here is what I wish I had said that day:

Olivia, Marley is wrong to think only white is beautiful. Look around this playground. Look at the pink buttercups, the green clover, and the white dandelions. Olivia, I can look around this playground, and KNOW Marley is wrong, because I can see God doesn’t agree with her. God made us a beautiful diverse world. He made the canaries yellow, and the cardinals red, and the wrens brown, and the crows black. He made red beans, and white beans, green beans, and black beans, and even navy beans that aren’t anything close to navy.

Like the plants and birds, people come in a full spectrum of colors other than white. My Irish ancestors are pale with red hair and green eyes. My German ancestors are dark-haired and brown-eyed. My Native American ancestors are short, dark-skinned, dark-haired. My Mediterranean ancestors are olive-skinned, dark-haired, brown-eyed. And God took all of these features, put it in a giant cosmic blender, and poured out me; short, pale, but olive skin that tans to a shade of my Choctaw kin, dark brown eyes, wide Mediterranean nose. All this reduced to “white” on a census because somehow I can never find “English-Irish-German-Greek-Native American” on the form.

I would tell her to be proud to be part of that variety. I would tell her to pity Marley, who was not raised with the wisdom to appreciate the beauty of God’s creation. I would tell her God places no more value on the dove than the raven, and neither should she. I missed my opportunity to tell her that day. I can only hope she learned it somewhere along the way.

My own personal Easter.

“Easter is a holiday for children.” That’s a comment I am ashamed to say that I made last year to my husband. I mean think about it for a minute. How do we celebrate Easter? Kids dress up in frilly clothes. Kids dye eggs. Kids then hunt for eggs and candy in the yard with little baskets. Kids may even go have their picture taken with the Easter bunny like they would with Santa at Christmas. I mean, this holiday is all about children.

Of course, that’s only the secular side of the holiday. Recent events this week have me thinking about the real meaning of Easter. Easter is, of course, marking the resurrection of Jesus. It is about the fulfillment of promises. It’s about rebirth, renewal, and second chances.

I can’t believe that it is a coincidence that this week ends in Easter. You see, for the past several weeks, I’ve been under the impression that I was possibly going to die soon. A new doctor of mine had apparently decided that he needed to make more money off of me and told me that if my head shunt ever failed, my spinal shunt would quickly kill me, so I needed to let him remove the spinal shunt so that wouldn’t happen. The whole thing made me feel, understandably I think, like a ticking time-bomb. I began to think about how my husband would manage when if I died, and lamenting our lack of savings, but feeling grateful that I had good life insurance.

Through all these thoughts, something kept nagging at me. I thought it was probably just denial, but it bugged me enough to jump through the necessary hoops to get a second opinion with a different doctor. This time, instead of scaring the hell out of me, he sent me for an MRI, and I waited a long and stressful week to see him and find out the results. I even brought my mom (from 265 miles away) to the appointment for moral support. The result? I’m fine! He said that considering everything I had been through, my brain looks great. He sees no reason to have any surgeries at all, and he sees little to no chance of suffering a sudden death at the hands of my shunt. What’s more, the cyst in my brain that started this whole thing almost five years ago no longer shows up on the MRI. WHAT?????!!!!!!

For my mom, it’s an answered prayer, but it’s also keeping a promise she thought she had from God thirty-four years ago, and it pained her to think God was defaulting on His promise. For me, it’s like a rebirth. I’ve spent so much of my time, energy, and strength on MRIs, doctors’ appointments, surgeries, co-pays, and paperwork that I had left everything I loved slide. My novel sat unfinished–hell, untouched. My poetry journal wasn’t even filling at its usual rate. In essence, I was so consumed by my possible death that I quit living.

But this week was a wake-up call. If I’m sticking around, and it looks like I am, so should start doing the best at it that I can. I don’t believe it’s coincidence that this happened the week before Easter. I think it was just in time for me to start enjoying my own Spring.

International Women’s Day Not So Triumphant

On Women’s Day, a reality check

By Stephanie Coontz, Special to CNN

updated 7:53 PM EST, Thu March 8, 2012

Stephanie Coontz says it’s not just Rush Limbaugh who is attacking women’s rights gains.

STORY HIGHLIGHTS

• Stephanie Coontz: On International Women’s Day, good to reflect upon women’s gains
• But new stirs on contraception, etc. raise concerns. So does a new study, she says
• Study: Women’s progress has stalled on women in politics, equality in marriage and more
• Coontz: Recent threats to women’s rights, Limbaugh attacks, etc. show gains fragile

Editor’s note: Stephanie Coontz teaches history and family studies at The Evergreen State College in Olympia, Washington, and co-chairs the Council on Contemporary Families. Her most recent book is “A Strange Stirring: The Feminine Mystique and American Women at the Dawn of the 1960s.“

(CNN) — When Philip Morris introduced Virginia Slims cigarettes for women back in 1968, their marketing slogan was “You’ve Come a Long Way, Baby.” But by 1968 women had not really come very far. “Help wanted” ads were still segregated by sex, the average employed female college graduate earned less than the average male high school graduate, fewer than 3% of all attorneys were female, most states had “head and master” laws giving the husband the final say in the home, and no state counted marital rape as a crime.

Since then women actually have come a very long way. But this year on International Women’s Day, March 8, women are facing new challenges from social conservatives, who seem to believe that women have come too far. Who would have thought that women’s hard-won access to family planning would suddenly become a hot button issue in the 2012 Republican presidential primaries?

Stephanie Coontz

And while the attacks on contraception are way out of step with mainstream opinion, that’s not the only area in which women’s gains may be threatened. In fact, according to a report issued this week by the Council on Contemporary Families, the rapid progress toward gender equality that America experienced in the 1980s and early 1990s seems to have stalled.

Researchers David Cotter, Joan Hermsen, and Reeve Vanneman catalog several troubling signs of blocked progress. For example, occupational segregation, which declined sharply from the 1960s through the 1980s, has not changed since 2000. Working-class occupations have actually become more gender-segregated since 1990 and now are back to the same level as 1950.

In 1977, only 34% of Americans thought women were as well suited to politics as men. By 1996, that had climbed to 79%. But in 2010 it was stuck at 78%. There was also slippage in support for egalitarian marital arrangements between 1994 and 2010.

The Council on Contemporary Families researchers do not claim that a counter-revolution is in the works. Mostly the story has been one of a slowdown rather than a reversal of progress. In some areas, in fact, support for women’s rights has continued to build. Today, 75% of Americans — the highest percentage ever — agree that “a working mother can establish just as warm and secure a relationship with her children as a mother who does not work.” If the politicians will just leave us alone, maybe we gals can negotiate a truce in “the mommy wars.”

Still, as the Council on Contemporary Families report warns, “equality is not permanent,” and gains can be reversed. Today women are more than half of college students. But few realize that in 1920 they were already almost half, a figure that then fell to 30% in 1950 and was not attained again until 1976. We certainly don’t want to risk slippage like that today in access to family planning, a right once considered so mainstream that in 1964 two former presidents — Republican Dwight Eisenhower and Democrat Harry Truman — proudly served as honorary co-chairs of the now suddenly embattled Planned Parenthood.

So we ignore these new attacks at our peril. It’s not just loose cannon Rush Limbaugh, who reviled a female law student as a “slut” for wanting her health insurance to cover contraception. It’s also Rick Santorum, opposing contraception on principle because it gives people “a license to do things in a sexual realm that is counter to how things are supposed to be.”

And Mitt Romney as well, who joins Santorum in opposing Title X, the Nixon-era legislation on which more than 5 million low-income women rely for family planning. Seven states, with three more in the wings, now require any woman considering an abortion to undergo an expensive ultrasound test that, in the case of early pregnancy, involves inserting a probe deep into her vagina.

This may not be the “war on women” that Democrats claim. But it is certainly a dangerous form of brinksmanship in a country with the highest rate of unintended pregnancies in the developed world, and one where 85% of brides — whatever their religious or political orientation — are no longer virgins when they marry.

Alongside the contraception issue we see new efforts to penalize women who don’t use contraception, or can’t get it. In Wisconsin, Republican Sen. Glenn Grothman has introduced a bill declaring that women who give birth outside marriage are contributing to child abuse. He and many social conservative allies also want to repeal the Equal Pay Enforcement Act, cut back on low-income housing assistance and deny other forms of social assistance that would help unwed mothers support their children. After all, as Republican presidential candidate Newt Gingrich reminded the nation the last time he had access to political power, there are always orphanages.

As usual, in this new round of attacks on women, the first are being directed at the most vulnerable, in the hope that the rest of us won’t feel threatened enough to react. But no woman who values the gains we have won over the past 40 years — and no man who wants his wife or daughter to have such options — should fail to respond to these threats.

The power of words–the sequel

So I recently started a new job, and I’m figuring my new coworkers already think I’m slightly nuts. See, posted on my cubicle wall, I have a sign that says, “You can’t control what people say to you. But you can control what you say to yourself.”. It’s the first thing people see in my office, and it gets a lot of confused looks, followed by a brief explanation. To me, it’s all about keeping perspective. I’ve been thinking a lot about perspective this time of year. While planning Christmas dinner for eight, working full time, and trying to finish Christmas shopping, it’s easy to get overwhelmed and start the “woe is me” speech about my stress. As counterproductive, and annoying to others, as that would be, it is tempting. But then it’s really just our classic pattern of exaggerating everything to make it worse than it is.

Think about it for a minute. We don’t say that we’re hungry. Instead, we’re “STARVING!”. We never say something didn’t go perfectly. We say it was a “disaster” or a “train wreck”, or my husband’s favorite, “nightmare”. Really?! The thing is, there really are disasters. There are train wrecks. There are nightmares. Having to stand in line for half an hour doesn’t really measure up to any of those, does it.

Just imagine what would happen if we replaced those grandiose terms with the realities. I’m hungry. I made some mistakes. That didn’t go as well as I hoped. That was inconvenient. Sounds a lot better, doesn’t it. Sounds downright bearable. Maybe even not that bad.

I know I’ve said this before, but there is power in the words we use. That’s true whether we’re talking to others or to ourselves. So, yeah, I’m keeping the sign on my wall. Maybe if enough people see it, it will spread like wildfire…or at least like an office rumor.

Dumping on a tradition

Each year we come together with friends and family to celebrate Thanksgiving. For some, it is all about the food and traditions. For others, it is more about revitalizing an “attitude of gratitude”. Apparently, for some, it is now “A Day of Mourning”.

It seems that with race relations already tense, someone thought it was a good idea to turn Thanksgiving into a memorial service for Native Americans. Now, don’t get me wrong, we all know Anglos brought diseases the Native Americans had no immunity for. We all know the Anglos brought liquor which the Native Americans weren’t able to metabolize (okay, so maybe we don’t ALL know that one). I get it. the wonderful discovery of the new world sucked for the people already living here. I would thoroughly understand why someone of Native American descent would skip Thanksgiving. The real question is why can’t they just skip their Thanksgiving? Why do they have to crap all over mine?

See, I get the history behind Thanksgiving. I still remember making pilgrim vests out of paper grocery bags and cutting out construction paper feathers for our “Thanksgiving feast”. The lore of Thanksgiving is about hospitality and cooperation. Two races worked together to save the lives of one of them, and then celebrated their success with a meal. Oh, yeah, I can see how bad that is!

Even if you eschew the historical basis for Thanksgiving, isn’t the whole idea of thanks-giving a good thing? Wouldn’t we all be happier if we spent more time counting our blessings than complaining about our limitations? How is that bad? So, now this group had organized a national day of mourning, so that, instead of celebrating camaraderie and gratitude, they are making the day a political platform for the social issues facing Native Americans. My newspaper and computer screen are full of stories of how the white man killed the Native American, and continues to oppress the ones who survive. Right next to the ad for the candied yams.

If you’re Native American, I get it if you don’t want to celebrate Thanksgiving. But look at this another way. If I posted an ad in the paper during Passover denouncing the Jews as the killers of my Savior, how do you think that play? There is a time and a place for everything. This wasn’t it.

http://www.finalcall.com/artman/publish/Perspectives_1/article_7448.shtml