The depth and layers of racism in America are not something that I can delve into fully, however, I do want say this: I think that change has to take place in the Church first and foremost. That's Church with a capital C - the universal Church, all denominations. Sure, we can (and should) make adjustments to laws in our country that are biased. We should do a lot of things in government to promote justice for all. But, in my humble opinion, the segregation we maintain in the Church is embarrassingly out of date. If Christians want to see a difference in the way people relate with one another, we need to be that change.
Sunday morning is said to be the most segregated hour in America. This isn't true of course, look around your neighborhood. Look around your grocery store. Look around your children's school. I'm guessing that for the most part, whatever your skin color is - that's what is around you too. Let's face it America, when it comes to black and white, we're still segregated. And most of us are sickened by that fact.
I find that to be suffocating. I feel like there are so many of us who are not racist. Who watch the news and hear the things people say (even the casual off-hand things those people we grew up with say in front of us - ugh!) and it's sickening. Yet, I don't know what I can do. What can we do? Sure, I can be nice to everyone I encounter regardless of their skin, regardless of mine. But then what? Lots of people do that. Racism is still a huge problem in America.
I believe that change has to start in the Church. All of us, all of us Christians need to look around us on Sunday mornings and decide that segregating ourselves is no longer okay. Sure, we all grew up with different worship styles, music preferences, liturgies. Yep, I get that. So, for now, I'm not proposing that everyone ditch their Sunday mornings. But what would it look like if we started gathering together as the Church in common prayer? In common mission? In outreach and fellowship? How awesome would it be if black churches and white churches partnered together to get to know one another as friends. As brothers and sisters. I'm talking one to one here. One black church + one white church. Any denomination. Then the two would meet up however often they want for outreach and fellowship. Working alongside one another they could transform a community with their service. In prayer they would grow together in faith. In sharing a meal together people would grow to know one another as the brothers and sisters in Christ that we all are. Simple: just one to one. In this way the Church would be transformed and transform the world.
Yes, I think racial change has to begin in the Church. Christ's prayer for his Church is plain and straightforward: "that they all may be one." If the Church can't desegregate, what hope is there for racial harmony in anything else?
Let us go forth in peace to love and serve the Lord.
Monday, May 4, 2015
Thursday, April 30, 2015
Dear Casey:
Kate Cho from Pearland asks:
Question: If we met this year, would you be my friend? Don't answer that!
Kate,
First of all Mrs. Cho, what you've just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever heard. At no point in your rambling, incoherent response were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul.
Second, by saying, "Don't answer that!" you guarantee a long answer. Don't tell me what to do. You know I hate that.
Let's explore what it would be like if we met this year...
If we met right now then chances are one of us would bring up the topics of polar exploration and whether or not grown women should wear t-shirts. We would both be drinking a Diet Coke and talking about how we should really quit the stuff. We'd talk about how we just discovered GWTW and how many times we've read HP. We'd argue over whether it's better to be in Gryfindor or Slytherin.
I would comment on how your compost pile looks a lot like Marjory the Trash Heap and you would laughingly agree. You'd tell me about your plans for a bee hotel, and we'd obsess over the fact that there are people in this world who buy paper products besides toilet paper only to throw them away.
Chances are one of us would suggest Taco Bell for lunch and the other would say, "I can’t go to Taco Bell; I’m on an all-carb diet. How about McDonalds so the kids can go in the playplace?" Then we'd sit at McDonalds and eat fries and drink more dc and talk about how much fun it is to go to the beach and how someone could ever choose to live somewhere landlocked (saying the word "landlocked" as though its a cuss word). We would have already learned that we are both Episcopalian because somehow you discover that about someone within moments of meeting. Based on that fact alone we would have discovered at least eight people we know in common two of which being our relatives.
A mutual love for Tina Fey and Christian Bale and Kermit would carry our conversation through the lunch hour. Because the kids are busy playing and we've got nothing else to do that afternoon we'd splurge on iced coffees laughing about how they'll keep us up into the wee hours working on craft projects and watching The Goodbye Girl. We'd talk about how weird it was that we watched that movie so much as children. "Your parents let you watch that too?!?! Were you also allowed to eat macaroni and cupcakes for breakfast? Wait? What?! Me too!" Then we'd talk about what craft projects we've been working on lately.
After lunch you would invite me to join a book club or some sort of women's group you are currently involved with. I'd smile and say, "Sure. Maybe..." all the while wondering why someone so obviously weird and nothing like me wants to be my best friend forever...
Question: If we met this year, would you be my friend? Don't answer that!
Kate,
First of all Mrs. Cho, what you've just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever heard. At no point in your rambling, incoherent response were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul.
Second, by saying, "Don't answer that!" you guarantee a long answer. Don't tell me what to do. You know I hate that.
Let's explore what it would be like if we met this year...
If we met right now then chances are one of us would bring up the topics of polar exploration and whether or not grown women should wear t-shirts. We would both be drinking a Diet Coke and talking about how we should really quit the stuff. We'd talk about how we just discovered GWTW and how many times we've read HP. We'd argue over whether it's better to be in Gryfindor or Slytherin.
I would comment on how your compost pile looks a lot like Marjory the Trash Heap and you would laughingly agree. You'd tell me about your plans for a bee hotel, and we'd obsess over the fact that there are people in this world who buy paper products besides toilet paper only to throw them away.
Chances are one of us would suggest Taco Bell for lunch and the other would say, "I can’t go to Taco Bell; I’m on an all-carb diet. How about McDonalds so the kids can go in the playplace?" Then we'd sit at McDonalds and eat fries and drink more dc and talk about how much fun it is to go to the beach and how someone could ever choose to live somewhere landlocked (saying the word "landlocked" as though its a cuss word). We would have already learned that we are both Episcopalian because somehow you discover that about someone within moments of meeting. Based on that fact alone we would have discovered at least eight people we know in common two of which being our relatives.
A mutual love for Tina Fey and Christian Bale and Kermit would carry our conversation through the lunch hour. Because the kids are busy playing and we've got nothing else to do that afternoon we'd splurge on iced coffees laughing about how they'll keep us up into the wee hours working on craft projects and watching The Goodbye Girl. We'd talk about how weird it was that we watched that movie so much as children. "Your parents let you watch that too?!?! Were you also allowed to eat macaroni and cupcakes for breakfast? Wait? What?! Me too!" Then we'd talk about what craft projects we've been working on lately.
After lunch you would invite me to join a book club or some sort of women's group you are currently involved with. I'd smile and say, "Sure. Maybe..." all the while wondering why someone so obviously weird and nothing like me wants to be my best friend forever...
I would in turn invite you to lift weights or to drink scotch on my patio or be facebook friends. We would stare at one another smiling and thinking, "I picked up a weirdo." Finally you would break the silence and say, "Nobody knows anything, Joe. We'll take this leap, and we'll see. We'll jump, and we'll see. That's life, right?" and we'd be BFF forever and I'd move into the house next door to you.
Wednesday, April 29, 2015
Got Milk?
I can't remember how I first learned of the need for sharing human milk. It was at some point while we lived in Austin though I don't remember how or through whom. I do remember getting on the computer when I was pregnant and finding Mother's Milk Bank Austin (Hey! Look at that! It's proof that I did do something while pregnant other than just eat queso and reread Harry Potter!). I did some research and quickly realized that donating to the milk bank was something I couldn't bear to not do. Preterm and many ill infants are at risk for something called necrotizing enterocolitis - which attacks and destroys the intestines. Human milk is the best defense but mothers are not always able to supply enough milk to their hospital-bound child(ren). Enter the milk bank. Long story short: the milk bank is safe, healthy, and effective. There were babies who needed help! How could I not apply?
First though, I had to have my baby. And learn how to breastfeed. *sigh* Details. Details. Knowing that I could donate to the milk bank only added to my determination to successfully breastfeed my firstborn. As many new moms discover, breastfeeding isn't necessarily as simple in the beginning as one would hope. But knowing that mastering the ability to feed my infant would allow me to not only feed her, but also help provide milk for fragile babies (not to mention who wants to have to wash bottles all of the time am I right?!) furthered my determination to succeed in breastfeeding. After a great trip to a lactation consultant I was feeling much more hakuna ma tatas and had finally mastered the fine art of feeding my newborn. Err... kind of. Eventually my baby and I got a (football) hold on the whole nursing thing, and I was pumped about getting signed up with the milk bank (yes, I do think I'm very punny). Going through the screening process couldn't have been easier. Some quick paperwork. A phone call with a lovely supportive employee. A quick trip (on their dime) to draw some blood (which really, after pregnancy and with a newborn what's one more trip to a medical building?). And badda bing badda boom: I was a milk donor.
The donation process was simple: pump.
That's it. Pump.
Okay, perhaps more than that: Pump. Pour into bottles. Label. Repeat.
I made a date with mypump new brest friend part of my nightly bedtime ritual. Take out my contacts, take my vitamins, brush my teeth, wash my face, pump for the milk bank. It just became a part of the nightly routine. And I discovered an added bonus: it gave me a guaranteed nightly 15-30 minutes of coveted alone time. All mothers know how valuable a few uninterrupted minutes of peace and quiet can be. Especially during those first few months after giving birth to my second child when every moment of my time was demanded. I found that pumping was my time to just sit. Sometimes I would spend the time in prayer. Sometimes I would spend the time reading a magazine. My plan was always to pray for the recipients and their families while I pumped... honestly though I spent a lot of the time during those first few months after my second child was born just zoned out in a tired daze. But it was my time. I was alone. No one was crying. No one's hiney needed wiping. No one's favorite blankie was inexplicably missing (again?!). It was just me and the quiet sounds of liquid gold. And it was glorious.
I nursed Carolena for eleven months until she demanded sippy cups. Typical. I'm surprised she didn't jump directly from breast milk to cappuccinos. I diligently pumped for the milk bank while we lived in Austin but our month long nomadic stint and Carolena's self weaning ended my donation time a month or two earlier than I had anticipated.
I nursed Nils for just shy of a year. He too discovered the freedom that sippy cups afford and began to push me away and bite and claw and bring cups to my husband demanding that he be served milk. My children are very independent and strong willed. I have no idea where they get that from.
During my second round as a milk bank donor I found an added bonus for our family: sharing the donation process with Carolena. She was thrilled to see our freezer slowly filling with milk containers. When it would reach a capacity that was full enough to make ice cream purchasing impossible, Carolena would help me load up a cooler and we'd drive to the hospital drop off location next to our house. Carolena found this thrilling. "Tell me about the babies!" she would call out as we drove. I would tell her about the pumping process. We'd talk about how Nils drank milk from my body and how all babies who are newborn need milk from mommies. I would tell her about how some babies are born and are sick or really very very little and their mommies just don't have enough milk for them. "I have more than enough milk for Nils. So we share. There is enough milk to go around. If we all share then everyone has enough."
Every once in a while I would find her sitting by herself quietly nursing her stuffed animals and baby dolls. Sometimes I would find her holding a small baby bottle to her chest whispering to herself, "pump. pump. pump." Inevitably during her "pumping" she would catch me watching her. She smile up at me and face shining say, "I'm pumping for the sick babies. If we all share then everyone has enough."
Having weaned my last breastfed baby, I have now begun a new chapter in my relationship with Mother's Milk Bank Austin. I have joined their team as a volunteer Milk Bank Ambassador - a retired donor committed to the good work the milk bank is doing. Among other things I will be distributing pamphlets to pediatrician and obgyn offices, inviting nursing moms to donate milk, and encouraging others to spread the word about Mother's Milk Bank Austin: an organization I could easily vote as the Brest in Show.
And finally, here's a good breastfeeding joke for you. Ah, nevermind... it's a letdown.
My friends, consider sharing something you have with Mother's Milk Bank Austin. What can you share? Got milk? Get pumping! Got money? Yep, of course they need it. Got a voice? Tell a friend about the milk bank, link them on your blog, post them on your facebook.
If we all share then everyone has enough.
First though, I had to have my baby. And learn how to breastfeed. *sigh* Details. Details. Knowing that I could donate to the milk bank only added to my determination to successfully breastfeed my firstborn. As many new moms discover, breastfeeding isn't necessarily as simple in the beginning as one would hope. But knowing that mastering the ability to feed my infant would allow me to not only feed her, but also help provide milk for fragile babies (not to mention who wants to have to wash bottles all of the time am I right?!) furthered my determination to succeed in breastfeeding. After a great trip to a lactation consultant I was feeling much more hakuna ma tatas and had finally mastered the fine art of feeding my newborn. Err... kind of. Eventually my baby and I got a (football) hold on the whole nursing thing, and I was pumped about getting signed up with the milk bank (yes, I do think I'm very punny). Going through the screening process couldn't have been easier. Some quick paperwork. A phone call with a lovely supportive employee. A quick trip (on their dime) to draw some blood (which really, after pregnancy and with a newborn what's one more trip to a medical building?). And badda bing badda boom: I was a milk donor.
The donation process was simple: pump.
That's it. Pump.
Okay, perhaps more than that: Pump. Pour into bottles. Label. Repeat.
I made a date with my
I nursed Carolena for eleven months until she demanded sippy cups. Typical. I'm surprised she didn't jump directly from breast milk to cappuccinos. I diligently pumped for the milk bank while we lived in Austin but our month long nomadic stint and Carolena's self weaning ended my donation time a month or two earlier than I had anticipated.
I nursed Nils for just shy of a year. He too discovered the freedom that sippy cups afford and began to push me away and bite and claw and bring cups to my husband demanding that he be served milk. My children are very independent and strong willed. I have no idea where they get that from.
During my second round as a milk bank donor I found an added bonus for our family: sharing the donation process with Carolena. She was thrilled to see our freezer slowly filling with milk containers. When it would reach a capacity that was full enough to make ice cream purchasing impossible, Carolena would help me load up a cooler and we'd drive to the hospital drop off location next to our house. Carolena found this thrilling. "Tell me about the babies!" she would call out as we drove. I would tell her about the pumping process. We'd talk about how Nils drank milk from my body and how all babies who are newborn need milk from mommies. I would tell her about how some babies are born and are sick or really very very little and their mommies just don't have enough milk for them. "I have more than enough milk for Nils. So we share. There is enough milk to go around. If we all share then everyone has enough."
Every once in a while I would find her sitting by herself quietly nursing her stuffed animals and baby dolls. Sometimes I would find her holding a small baby bottle to her chest whispering to herself, "pump. pump. pump." Inevitably during her "pumping" she would catch me watching her. She smile up at me and face shining say, "I'm pumping for the sick babies. If we all share then everyone has enough."
Having weaned my last breastfed baby, I have now begun a new chapter in my relationship with Mother's Milk Bank Austin. I have joined their team as a volunteer Milk Bank Ambassador - a retired donor committed to the good work the milk bank is doing. Among other things I will be distributing pamphlets to pediatrician and obgyn offices, inviting nursing moms to donate milk, and encouraging others to spread the word about Mother's Milk Bank Austin: an organization I could easily vote as the Brest in Show.
And finally, here's a good breastfeeding joke for you. Ah, nevermind... it's a letdown.
My friends, consider sharing something you have with Mother's Milk Bank Austin. What can you share? Got milk? Get pumping! Got money? Yep, of course they need it. Got a voice? Tell a friend about the milk bank, link them on your blog, post them on your facebook.
If we all share then everyone has enough.
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Would You Like Some Ham With That Cheese?
If there is one word in this world that could describe Nils... it would be ham.
This guy is a ham. Ham. Ham. HAM.
If he even so much as senses there is a camera nearby, you'll hear him humming, "cheeesseee!!"
Every Tuesday at Weight Watchers he makes the rounds, going from chair to chair smiling and wooing all the members. Ham. Every Tuesday and Thursday when we pick up Carolena from school there's Nils, smiling coyly at the teachers, casually suggesting that they take out some extra toys for his amusement. Ham. Every time he meets someone new he hides his face into my shoulder and then repeatedly lifts his head to smile at them and ensure they've noticed how "shy" he is. HAM.
"Cheeeeeesssseeee!!"
Monday, April 27, 2015
The One-Woman Wolfpack
We went to our first mom's group/ play group this morning. First time ever.
Ever.
I've never joined a playgroup. I'm just not that social. Plus, I've never been the type of mother who is looking for things to do. We've always seemed to have a lot of things to do. Plus, plus, I barely find time to get together with my current friends - much less make time to find new ones. That sounds terrible but you all know what I'm talking about.
Or you don't. And perhaps you are the one who needs to join an activity group.
Anyway, some of the moms in our neighborhood decided to start getting together and I randomly joined the group thinking it would be nice to know some people who live nearby.
All in all it was a good morning. Not a "Fantastic - the kids I have a great new group of friends and we all painted each other's fingernails and ate bon-bons!" kind of morning - but a good morning overall. We all met up at a nearby playground. Carolena and Nils had a great time, of course, but they also had a great time in Home Depot yesterday soo... yeahh...
Actually, Home Depot is fantastic in my opinion so that is a terrible example.
Okay, back to the playgroup... Carolena and one other girl were the oldest by far (by far? they're only 4ish...) but still had a good time. Nils was a wildman and was happy to have two boys around his age to pal around with. I had a good time but am always a little tentative when meeting other stay home moms. We all know my fear is not that people won't like me. I don't care if people don't like me. My fear is that someone will like me and then be a stage five clinger. I'm more of a lone wolf. A one woman wolf pack.
Despite the agreement to get together every Monday morning (every Monday morning?!?!) and some weekends (uh... nope... no weekends) it was hopefully a good decision to join the group. I am pretty sure we've lived in Katy the longest of all the people there and everyone is just looking for a ticket out of the house. I was there once. I get it.
Also, full disclosure: I'm fighting a migraine today so I probably would have had a much better attitude sans pounding head. Sigh, of course I used my last Imitrex yesterday and Kroger doesn't keep them in stock. Why? Why Kroger?! They order it in when I need it. Seriously. Seriously?! Overall though migraines are going well. Nils is waking up. I'm just going to hit "post" and hope there aren't too many grammatical errors in this post. I joined a mom's group. That's all.
Ever.
I've never joined a playgroup. I'm just not that social. Plus, I've never been the type of mother who is looking for things to do. We've always seemed to have a lot of things to do. Plus, plus, I barely find time to get together with my current friends - much less make time to find new ones. That sounds terrible but you all know what I'm talking about.
Or you don't. And perhaps you are the one who needs to join an activity group.
Anyway, some of the moms in our neighborhood decided to start getting together and I randomly joined the group thinking it would be nice to know some people who live nearby.
All in all it was a good morning. Not a "Fantastic - the kids I have a great new group of friends and we all painted each other's fingernails and ate bon-bons!" kind of morning - but a good morning overall. We all met up at a nearby playground. Carolena and Nils had a great time, of course, but they also had a great time in Home Depot yesterday soo... yeahh...
Actually, Home Depot is fantastic in my opinion so that is a terrible example.
Okay, back to the playgroup... Carolena and one other girl were the oldest by far (by far? they're only 4ish...) but still had a good time. Nils was a wildman and was happy to have two boys around his age to pal around with. I had a good time but am always a little tentative when meeting other stay home moms. We all know my fear is not that people won't like me. I don't care if people don't like me. My fear is that someone will like me and then be a stage five clinger. I'm more of a lone wolf. A one woman wolf pack.
Also, full disclosure: I'm fighting a migraine today so I probably would have had a much better attitude sans pounding head. Sigh, of course I used my last Imitrex yesterday and Kroger doesn't keep them in stock. Why? Why Kroger?! They order it in when I need it. Seriously. Seriously?! Overall though migraines are going well. Nils is waking up. I'm just going to hit "post" and hope there aren't too many grammatical errors in this post. I joined a mom's group. That's all.
Thursday, April 23, 2015
Springtime In Texas for the Duncans (Sung to the tune from The Producers of Course)
Dinner on the deck means... Daddy will cook!
And inevitably someone will fall into the kiddie pool...
and we'll spend the entire evening together playing and laughing and running and squirreling around.
And the table will be set and the candles will be lit and all will be peaceful... err... as possible...
and Mommy will pass out ice cream
And we'll decide to do it all again tomorrow!
Wednesday, April 22, 2015
King of the Wild Frontier
The kids and I recently bought a coonskin cap at Goodwill (we are the descendents of Jim Rush after all), and it has already given all three of us waaaay more than four dollars worth of amusement.
Nils has very strong opinions on who should don the cap.
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