I just love the things my son comes up with.

Right now he is counting all the pennies - just the pennies - from his money bank. He tells me he's going to use the money to take Daphne out for supper. For the confused reader, Daphne is a stick pony that he's had since before his first birthday. He tells me they are going to eat somewhere "with a lot of grass."

Bizarre dreams...

I had forgotten about the bizarre dreams that accompany pregnancy, usually about the delivery or care of the growing babe inside. With kiddo #1, I remember dreaming that I took him to work, stuck him in a mail slot, and left him there all day, slippery and bloody like he'd just been born.

Last night was the first dream I'd had of delivering this one, and I got a two-fer. Could've done without both. The first, I dreamt that I was in labor and knew it, but stayed home as long as I possibly could, which is more or less the plan this time around barring any health issues. I got to the hospital and my friend who works L&D there (and who has promised to labor me) got me in the room, where I am surrounded by nurses and doctors (such is the world of dreams!). I reached down and felt the baby crowning, and pushed her out (yes, a girl). What I didn't expect, however, was the second girl that followed right behind her. They were somehow attached, so at first I thought they were conjoined but I later realized it was the placenta and they were mo-mo twins. At first twin B was a bit blobby but then she took shape, and I wrapped them both up. They were both cute, but both were missing digits and B had some kind of facial deformity. Don't remember anything after that.

Dream #2: Same scenario, I went to the hospital knowing I was in labor but contractions not very strong. A few people I know from my current job were at the hospital. (In real life, I will not be delivering where I work unless I go into labor there, which I hope not to do.) At some point someone Leopolded me and told me this one was breech, which I was able to confirm by looking into my uterus (?!). I somehow reached in and grabbed the kid (again, a girl) and pulled her out. Her cord avulsed but didn't really bleed, but I held pressure on her umbilicus and since she wasn't breathing, I gave her breaths since there was no bag/mask. I think someone at some point yelled out my BP, which was 40s/20s. At that point, I woke up.

And I am quite glad both those dreams were only dreams!!!!!! Hopefully that is all the excitement that will happen this pregnancy!

Oh, and I checked my BP at the store today. 119/79...my kind of BP. :)

Rearranging deck chairs (warning! political post)

THANK GOD elections are over. For one, I was so tired of all the stupid flyers and phone calls that made their way to my house. Two, I am glad that whatever was going to happen happened and hopefully everyone will shut up about it now.

I neither identify myself as Republican nor Democrat, as there is plenty with which I find fault about both parties. The Democrats this session proved absolutely worthless and cowardly, as all that had to happen for them to back down on anything was the threat of a Republican filibuster. Not the actual thing happening....just the threat. I don't like their continued prosecution of the war in Afghanistan either. And I'm so over the Republican party's utter hypocrisy - "pro-life", yet we wholeheartedly support the wars, and we also support capital punishment. "Small government", yet we have no problem with things like the Patriot Act (yes, I am still cheesed off about that), Arizona SB 1070, nor spending a trillion dollars a year on defense. There is no way I'd align myself with either of these parties right now. (**Disclaimer** I have plenty of friends from both parties, and as individuals I know they are good people...I just can't stand what the parties represent!)

So I voted third party. I'm not a complete libertarian - I do believe in things like roads and ambulances that everyone should be able to use when needed - but I do believe that people the world over should be more or less left alone to live their lives without government interference, and neither Rs nor Ds are willing to do that. And I voted Libertarian for as many seats as I could. With one exception, if there was no third party, I just didn't choose. I felt no need to choose between (as the libertarians say) the left hand and the right hand of the One Big Government Party.

So congratulations, America! If rearranging the Titanic's deck furniture is your idea of 'change'...well, you got it!

A couple quickies from today....
1) I had to laugh today as I switched my calendar over to November. I noticed that tomorrow is Election Day in the US, and Day of the Dead in Mexico. Ah, irony! I posted this on facebook and one of my friends asked if I was for real; rest assured that I'm not nearly creative enough to associate the two on my own, so yes... it is for real!

2) My son is more perceptive than I give him credit for. We were playing a game today that was sorta-fun-sorta-educational. We were flipping a quarter onto a flat map of the world, and wherever it landed we talked about that country. (Except for the US, because as he put it, "We already know about the United States. That's boring.") Anyway, his class at school is going over basics of money as well. Since we were using a quarter for our game at home, he says to me, "So, Mom....this coin with a vulture on the back...it's a quarter, right?" I didn't correct him on the animal; I think he's more right than he knows.

Random ramblings...

Yet another lovely Saturday afternoon that I should be spending asleep and am instead wide freaking awake. Before I got pregnant, Saturday sleep wasn't always superb, but I could usually manage to piece together 5.5-7 total hours of shut-eye. Now that I'm pregnant (read: now that I can't take any sleep aids) I'm lucky to average 4-5. Last week I managed to have a perfectly stellar Saturday snooze, sleeping from 9am til 4:30pm with only one bathroom break and I went back to sleep afterward. No such luck today.

It doesn't help that I have a lot on my mind. For one, I am trying to work enough hours to qualify for FMLA when my due date rolls around. I'm one of those people that would be perfectly happy if someone paid me to stay at home and do nothing. (Not that I'd actually do nothing, but it'd sure be nice to not be beholden to a schedule.) I stress about how many times I have to go to work this week (total of 4 between Sunday and Saturday, so really not that much), and I stress about whether work will be bad or not.

And, I've been worried about my blood pressure...and yes, I know that's a bit counterproductive. At my first prenatal visit it was up (130s/80s), but I chalked it up to hurting from my MVC three days earlier. The second time it was 140/80, but I had also just had an elevated O'Sullivan test and that had my knickers all in a wad. I checked it at work last night after chilling out for a few minutes and it was still 130s/80s. That's not how it was at my last physical, and I don't like it like that. Given the aforementioned paragraph about work, I should probably be taking it at Wal-mart or something instead.

And being an OB nurse, my mind automatically races to the worst-case scenario - pre-eclampsia, premature delivery, HELLP, DIC, all the absolute worst things that can happen. Never mind that most gestational hypertension doesn't end that way, and who knows if it's truly GHTN or if it was up a bit before I got prego and we're just now seeing it because I'm at the doc every month. It is really hard to not let my mind wander to those scenarios because I see them all the time. Never mind that if the BP is really elevated, there are meds for it, and I'd take them. Heck, I'd go over Niagara Falls in a barrel if that's what it takes for a healthy, on-time kid.

What I need to do is quit worrying so much about it....it is not helping, and every time I get upset about it, I give my body another adrenaline boost that bumps it up that much more. There are non-pharmaceutical ways of chilling myself out, and maybe I need to investigate them. For starters, I need to spend more time praying. I find that when I'm regularly spending time with God like I need to be, I'm worrying less about things I can't control (like pre-E) since He usually reminds me that He's got it taken care of. Maybe a little prenatal yoga or meditation would help too. Maybe I need this guy on speed dial or something...

I just finished reading Shoeless Joe by W. P. Kinsella, the book upon which the movie "Field of Dreams" was based. Excellent book, and I don't think having seen the movie (a hundred times) before ruined it like that sort of thing usually does. There are a precious few movies that make me blub my eyes out as much the 127th time as they do the first, and "Field of Dreams" is one. Having now read the book, I think the movie does the book justice.

Baseball is one of my loves, and particularly players like Shoeless Joe Jackson fascinate me. I haven't done much baseball reading lately, but as a child I carried around The Bill James Historical Baseball Abstract and read it cover to cover. I have lived and died with the Cubs every year for 21 years now, and while they have never rewarded me (nor my parents, nor my grandparents) with a World Series win, they are as much a part of me as the gray hairs (!) on my head.

Don't know if anyone has followed the controversy (pretty insignificant if you ask me, considering that Haitians are dying of cholera and the world doesn't seem to care) following the debate over NPR firing Juan Williams over comments he made to Bill O'Reilly. What apparently got him in trouble was the following statement:

"I mean, look, Bill. I'm not a bigot. You know the kind of books I've written about the civil rights movement in this country. But when I get on a plane, I got to tell you, if I see people who are in Muslim garb and I think, you know, they are identifying themselves first and foremost as Muslims, I get worried. I get nervous."

Now, I don't know that NPR firing him was the right thing to do. Frankly, I can take NPR or leave it. It's the default setting for my alarm clock because I can deal with waking up to their voices better than a blaring alarm (which puts me in a gripey mood for the rest of the day). But honestly, I don't listen to NPR. Firing him seems a bit over the top. However, what would the reaction have been if he'd said something similar about Jews, black men, or Catholics...just to name a few examples?

Having said that, it makes me sad that Mr. Williams is afraid of well over a billion people because of a few whose names make headlines.

I found this blog of Muslims wearing things....maybe this will help allay some of his fears.

What if Jesus really meant all that stuff?

A beautiful letter from Shane Claiborne to nonbelievers in an issue of Esquire magazine....

It is so worth reading; I've read it and reread it, and every time it makes me tear up.

Find it here.

I found a couple really interesting articles here and here about Islamophobia and 'Ground Zero Mosque' (nice moniker, btw, and untrue, but what if it were really a mosque? Do we or do we not have religious freedom here? And I also believe the politicians are really good at making this an issue so we'll ignore our tanking dollar, economy still in the toilet, hungry children, and trillion dollar wars that are killing innocents, bringing our troops home with PTSD, and putting us further in the deficit hole. Nah, much easier to focus on one Sufi Muslim building the Muslim equivalent of a YMCA in an abandoned building where his group has already been praying for at least a year. Yes, that makes so much sense.)

Frankly, I'm disturbed, upset, and yes, even a little angry about the terrible things that have been said and done to and about Muslims on behalf of America. I am sad that, as mentioned in second article, Muslims have to wonder if they belong in America. This should not be happening. "Yes, Saintly Nurse," you may say, "but wasn't it Muslims that flew those planes into the buildings?" Saintly Nurse responds, "No, it was not Muslims. It was twenty Muslims if you count the guy that didn't make his flight. It was not these Muslims and if we cannot separate American Muslims who have lived and worshiped in this country for years/decades/generations from Mohammed Atta, then we are a sad lot indeed."

I've been heartened by people who've stood with Muslims and against prejudice and hate. I'm heartened to see people of all stripes who've demonstrated that those who harbor hatred of 'the other' do not speak for us all. I don't believe anyone should have to question whether they belong just because they may not be white, may not speak English, or may not worship the way the majority worships. Are you kidding me? Does this not smack of the same prejudices practiced against the Japanese citizens of this country during WWII? If we do not stand up for hate whenever and however it manifests, then we do not live up to the standards set for us as a nation, nor to the standard to which the Christ calls us (if we are Christians).

A caveat - the first linked article is by Michael Moore, and I'm not generally a fan of his, but overall I like what he had to say here.

"Sometimes I would like to ask God why He allows poverty, famine, and injustice when He could do something about it....but I'm afraid He might ask me the same question."
- Anonymous

Emotional roller coaster

I went to church today, and it was really really hard. I don't think I was ready to interact that intensely with people. During the sermon I was all over the place, I had a really hard time caring what the pastor had to say (and he's a great pastor, this isn't a swipe at him nor his preaching).

A few people didn't realize we had miscarried and came up to me to offer congratulations. Yeah, awkward and difficult. I know they meant well but it sucked anyway.

Someone else who lost a baby told me a couple days ago: "When people say the wrong thing to you - and they will - remember that they desperately wanted to say the right thing." That was really good advice, and I had to remember it today. I have to remember that not everyone went to nursing school and learned the 'therapeutic communication' thing, and everybody hasn't read the list of 'what not to say'. I heard ALL the wrong things today.

"It wasn't meant to be." Yes, I know that, but right now I don't want to hear it, because I still have to wake up every morning and remind myself that I'm not pregnant anymore. I know it wasn't meant this way, but it felt like such a devaluation of Katie, and of the pain I'm feeling right now.

"Oh, you're young, you can have more." As if this one doesn't count. As if having another one will magically erase the loss of this one. As if another one is a guarantee. Yes, I'd like another one, but what about this one? This one was special too, and still is.

"How far along were you? Oh, less than six weeks? Oh, well, so you were early." Yes, and? You think I hadn't already bonded with this baby? You think I just bled and went on with my life? Come on.

Like I've already said, most people have been wonderful. The above hasn't been the majority of people, and even these people (as mentioned before) weren't intending to hurt. I know that. And I don't expect everyone to know what to do or say...which is why I'm getting it out here in a relatively safe anonymous place instead of being mad to their face when I know they were just doing/saying what they thought was best.

Ugh. This sucks a big one.

Questions and mental ramblings...

Will Katie's soul come back to us in another pregnancy, or is this it? Will we have to wait 'til heaven to see her again?

How long does it take for the acute stab-in-the-heart to go away? How long before it won't sting first thing every morning when I wake up and realize that I should still be pregnant but am not?

Was there something genetically wrong with her, and if yes, would it have been something I could have lived with had she made it to term? Or was this a fluke? Does it even matter?

What stings more than anything isn't seeing women with a baby, as in just one. What stings the most is seeing women with two babies. Because that should, in a perfect world, be me. I want to go up to these women and tell them it's not fair.

I am not really mad at God...yet. I wonder if I will get that way. If not, that would be fine with me....don't really like arguing with the man upstairs. But I do not understand his ways sometimes.

Small blessings

Losing a baby sucks, there is no way around that. It blows. But, I am learning - slowly - that some good has already come of it, and there is probably some more that has yet to occur.

• The body of Christ - I have been literally held up and held together by prayers, messages, and phone calls from my brothers and sisters. I done a lot of questioning God, and a lot of short prayers ("God, please take care of my Katie." "God, please help my husband"...that kind of thing) but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that my family in Jesus is talking to God on my behalf, and that has made a huge impact.*
• I now know what my patients feel like - I work with many women who are currently experiencing or have in the past experienced a fetal loss. I like to think I did a decent job before of at least trying to put myself in their place...but now I don't have to try. I know what it is like. I know exactly what that pain is, I have felt that dagger pierce my soul.
• I realize the value of my healthy kid - It's so easy to take what one already has for granted. For me, that was my healthy kid. He was born healthy and has never looked back, and I guess I just assumed that everything that grew in my womb would be that way. Now, I realize just how precious, what a miracle it is, that DNA arranges itself so well so often.
• I'm glad Mother Nature works - Now, don't get me wrong. I would not wish this agony on my worst enemy, and I'm not in any way diminishing the pain of losing my Katie. But most first-trimester losses (OB nurse brain kicking in here) occur when there is some chromosomal or other type of defect that is incompatible with life. Bodies recognize this and do their best to end the pregnancy early; it's everyone's way of trying to keep the human race healthy. This may sound odd, but I'm glad that even though I feel like my body failed me in a way - failing to keep the pregnancy - that in another way, it knew exactly what it was doing. I hope this doesn't sound too crass. It's not meant to be.
• I've already done what I thought I could never do - bury a child. Granted, I didn't have this child at term, raise her like I've raised my son, and then have to bury her. I don't even want to go there. But this baby was no less mine, and she is in the ground. And I did it.

* - I should add here: I have several friends/family who don't believe in a God at all or who don't practice any faith. They have been the face of Jesus to me as much as anyone else. And they know it too.

This has been without a doubt the absolute hardest thing I've ever faced, the biggest trial of my faith, the biggest test of me as a person. God has been so good, in surrounding me with people who care. The presence of people who care, just knowing that people care, gets this family through each day.

Burying baby Katie

Last night we buried whatever we could find of the pieces of membrane/sac/tissue I passed. When I saw them come out Tuesday, I just couldn't bring myself to flush them down the toilet. I just couldn't. So I wrapped them in toilet paper. And last night we buried them.

I wasn't sure if my husband would be okay with it, or if he'd think it was stupid. I told him where I was going and went to get a shovel. I was standing out in the backyard trying to find a good spot to bury her (I am calling this one a 'she'), and shortly afterward, he joined me. That was the first time I had really cried hard in front of him, and we just stood there for a minute and held each other. He picked a good spot (which was, incidentally the spot I had been leaning toward), and started digging. At that point our son joined us out there. After my husband finished digging (not a huge hole, it's not like there was a lot to bury), our son put what was left of his baby sister (or brother, as he reminds me) in it, and we all put a handful of dirt over her. Her daddy covered her back up and replaced the mulch over the spot. She's buried beside the maple tree in our backyard.

We all stood there for a minute, nobody really saying anything, just holding on to each other, and I guess that's how we said goodbye. Hubs went back in the house, and my son and I stayed out there for a bit. I couldn't leave her just yet, and I guess neither could he. Then my son did something so completely spontaneous and heartfelt it made me let loose with a whole new flood of tears, and at the same time, comforted my heart in a way I can't articulate here. He went and got a handful of sand from his sandbox and spread it over the mulch - contributing something that's 'his' to his baby sister. Afterward, he picked several flowers - one of each color that we have in that particular flowerbed - and put them over top. Oh God, it was the sweetest thing I've ever seen.

My husband didn't feel the need to pick a name for the lost baby, but I asked him if he minded if I did. He didn't mind, so I named her. Her name is Katherine Jane, Katie for short. I don't know why, but both those names came to me and wouldn't leave. A friend of mine from work is going to bring me her stepping stone kit so we can make her resting place a bit more permanent.

Goodbye.

Today is a new day

Today is better than yesterday was. Of course, that's a relative term when the subject at hand is a lost pregnancy.

Physically I feel more or less okay. Emotionally/psychologically I am all over the place. One minute I am fine, the next minute I am a sobbing, weepy mess. I go back and forth between being angry at no one in particular (honestly, who is there to be mad at?), and sad (damn it, I miss this baby!), and relieved that Mother Nature is doing her job (losses this early on are usually related to some major chromosomal defect that's not compatible with life).

Several of my friends and family have lost pregnancies too. I am not glad that they've had losses, but glad that they have been wonderful. In letting me know I'm not crazy for crying over the slightest thing. For wanting to give this baby a name. For not wanting to really interact that intensely with many people. For being glad (maybe TMI) to actually see the membranes/sac when they passed, the only tangible connection to the baby that I carried. I am not expecting to be 'over it' any time soon, and am not even sure about work this weekend yet, that will have to be played by ear. I'm expecting to take a few steps forward and a step back here and there.

Things I am grateful for:
- My husband made vegetable beef soup for supper yesterday evening. Hispanic culture is such that it encourages women to eat soup postpartum. Hubs isn't a big talker, but I think this was his way of acknowledging, and maybe even mourning?
- Aforementioned women among my friends and family who have closed ranks around me.
- My son, who is a constant reminder that life goes on, that people need me, and that there is still beauty to be found.

Angel baby

Started miscarrying today...and it bites.
My son picked these flowers for me today because he saw me not feeling so hot.
My friends and family have been there, and I am grateful. My husband made comfort food for supper tonight. And I think one day we'll see our baby again, whether his/her soul comes back to us in another pregnancy, or if we have to wait til heaven. Either way, our baby is in God's hands.

Out of the mouths of babes...

Kiddo wanted to see a 'picture' of what his baby brother/sister looks like so we did a Google search for what a baby looks like at 5 weeks pregnant. We find the pic, he looks at it for a minute, and....

"Oh. That looks like a shrimp."

Coming soon

Starring: a person to be named later
Co-producers: Mom & Dad
Director: God
Incubator: Mom
Supporting actor: Happy big brother
Arrival in a theater near you: Around April 12, 2011

Switching gears a bit....I know you will be heartbroken, because I know you REALLY wanted to hear more from the world's coolest great white shark. Sorry to disappoint.

I'm really damned tired of hearing about the mosque/community center/whatever the heck it is these folks want to build in NYC. Let them build it already and be done with it. Surely there are bigger fish to fry, like say, that 30,000 children starve to death every day. I mean, really? Children are dying of hunger (or malaria, or diphtheria, all preventable things) and we are pissed off about people exercising their freedom of religion on private property? (which, by the way, just happens to be a right guaranteed to all of us by the Constitution...even and especially the unpopular religions.)

I've heard all the talking points en contra, and frankly, none of them impress me. Either we have freedom of religion in this country or we don't. If we do, let's not stand in the way of it being built (whether we actually believe in Islam or think it's 'the way' is another issue altogether). If we don't, let's ban synagogues, temples, mosques, shrines, and whatever else, and become a totalitarian Christian state (which, I hope, we can all agree is a bad idea and not want God wants us to do with His name).


For heaven's sake, 9/11 was painful, terrible day for all of us. For the entire country. For most of the world. I get that. We all do. But in my mind, the absolute worst thing we as a nation can do is reinforce he image that's already out there that yep, we are incapable of separating Muslims from terrorists and terrorists from Muslims. Never mind that the rest of the world has been dealing with terrorism for a lot longer than we have, and mostly from non-Muslims, and some even from Christians! (Northern Ireland, for example)


It makes me angry. Really angry, because while I don't believe in Islam, I do love Muslims. I love Muslims for the same reason I love Atheists, Hindus, Buddhists, and Pastafarians, that being because God loves them and died for them. I refuse to demonize an entire group of people because a few idiots decide to use religion to cover a political agenda. I refuse to be afraid of people (the few who actually are extremists) who can only kill my body and not my soul.


I read an article, the whole of which I thought was really good. But this quote in particular stands out to me: The Lord once promised, "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God." He must have known when He said it that He probably wouldn't have to make good on it. How many peacemakers do you know?


I am trying really hard to not feel older-brother self-righteousness toward people who feel differently about this. It has been, is, and will be a challenge. Oh, there is a lot more I could say, but it is late, and this is enough.

Interview with a great white shark

...named Bruce (of Finding Nemo fame). This is Kiddo's stuffed animal/puppet that goes everywhere he does. His Pappy (my stepfather) got it for him at the San Diego aquarium a couple years ago, and it hasn't left his side since. Now that he's learning to read, Bruce is learning to read as well, and Bruce helps the kiddo do just about everything.

How old are you? "I'm like five and a half. Actually, I'm ten and a half."

What part of the ocean are you from? "Far out from the sea."

What's your favorite thing to eat? "Fish and more fish, squids, turtles, and octopuses."

What's your favorite color? "White, 'cause I'm a great white shark."

Great white sharks eat people. Do you eat people too? "Nope. I never eat people. Not even one bite of a person."

What do you like to do when you're not eating fish? "My favorite thing to do is maybe go to sleep."

What should people do if they want to be happy? "Smile."

Wisdom from a great white stuffed shark. You're welcome.
(And it is a sad day when I am reduced to interviewing a stuffed animal so as to have material for my blog. No need to remind me.)

Book review: 1968

Book: 1968 Author: Joe Haldeman
Overall grade: A

My brother told me about this book a few weeks ago in an email, and since I couldn't find it at the library decided to bite the bullet and buy it used from Amazon.com. That turns out to be a wise choice, as I think it will be reread several times in the future, and hopefully I will remember it any time I begin to think war is somehow 'worth it.'

The story focuses on John Speidel, nicknamed 'Spider' for his last name as well as his lanky limbs, a childhood name that stuck. He is drafted into the Army and serves in Vietnam during the Tet offensive of early 1968. He is wounded badly enough to eventually be shipped back to the States, and the story follows him throughout the rest of the year - hence the title.

I have to say, this is one of the more riveting, heartbreaking, poignant pieces of fiction I've read in ages. I remember writing in a review of another Joe Haldeman book that I didn't much care for the sci-fi element to Haldeman's writing. And...well, while I realize that sci-fi IS Haldman's literary forte', this is a masterpiece if I have read one.

Without going into too much detail on the story, it is the story of so many returning Vietnam vets (as is Haldeman himself). Drafted into a war he did not want to fight, to kill people he did not want to kill. A girlfriend who goes off with another guy while Spider's in 'Nam. Losing his virginity to a prostitute while there, and gaining instead a nasty case of syphilis. Watching buddies and enemies alike get blown to smithereens. A stay at Walter Reed, several diagnoses that may or may not be true - in Spider's case, not. (Apparently back then, homosexuality was still a psychiatric diagnosis, and Spider was diagnosed with same based on the locations of his syphilis chancres - which brings me to the point that, while I didn't much care for the level of detail surrounding his encounter with the prostitute, it did end up having something to do with the later story.) A system that was broken and let our vets down, as much 40 years ago as today. A run of bad luck and family issues, and well, the rest you will have to read to find out. The end does have a redemptive, if unfinished, quality to it.

I am still processing some of the story, as I just finished it an hour ago. Suffice to say that it hit close to home, and it breaks my heart. Equally as heartbreaking is Haldeman's acknowledgement section at the end, which was what my brother emailed me those weeks ago, and it's what I'll end with:

...And then there are two veterans whose names I never learned.

On the 4th of October, 1968, I was in the army hospital at Tuy Hoa, Republic of Vietnam, my first day on crutches after being confined for several weeks to bed and wheelchair with multiple bullet and fragment wounds.

The hospital was suddenly crowded to overflowing with injured Vietnamese civilians, mostly women and children. It had been Election Day, and the Viet Cong decided to demonstrate against the election by simultanously attacking various polling places.

The hospital was a madhouse, a charnel house. Orders came down to transfer to other areas every American patient who could be moved. I hobbled aboard a crowded DC-3 borrowed from Air America, the CIA's airline, and as I moved toward the rear I passed the man who would become the rough draft of Spider.

Most of the passengers were obviously wounded or ill, but this man was tanned, healthy-looking, smiling - and strapped down to a stretcher, confined within a straitjacket, staring, evidently Thorazined to the gills. Pinned to his straitjacket was a tag saying PARANOID SCHIZOPHRENIC. I sat down behind him and wondered about using him in a story - maybe you had to be crazy, to make sense of this crazy war. This crazy time.

Two years later, happily out of uniform, I was visiting patients in the neurological wing of Bay Pines VA Hospital in St. Petersburg, Florida. There were some sad cases there, and no doubt some of them are still there, but the one who sticks in my mind is certainly dead by now. He was about ninety, the hospital's only patient left over from the Spanish-American War. He was legless and blind. They said that for forty years he had done nothing but call out for his mother.

This book is for those two men, obviously, and for men and women everywhere who are trapped day and night, locked away in the dark prison of their memories of war.

Food for thought

My song

If there were a song out there had been made with my name written all over it, this would be it. It's not a 'Christian' song (I think the word 'Christian' makes a great noun but a terrible adjective anyway) and I won't attempt to make it one. But I do love the idea of 'smiling on my brother'. And He did tell us to love one another...

(Mad hat tip to my adopted brother for the suggestion that this song is 'my song.')

Slackness

Honestly, what is there to write about? We haven't moved. None of us have changed jobs. I'm not pregnant, though we are trying. We're all still doing pretty much the same thing we were doing the last time I posted here.

I've been reading a few books - which I have updated on the sidebar there, so you can peruse them. I highly recommend 'Occupied Voices' and 'The Things They Carried'.

Our garden is productive this year. Yay! We've got a boatload of tomatoes which I have to make into salsa and freeze or they will rot. Ditto the California chiles. Jalapenos not quite ready yet, but I hope we'll have enough the whole year like we did last year. We still have some of last year's peppers in the freezer that we can grab whenever we need. The kiddo planted a few kernels of corn just to see what they'd do, and lo and behold we've got three stalks back there now. Got some watermelon vines with a few good-looking ones, and some onions still in the ground. Some folks at church have been generous with their farm produce too - one guy brings eggs from his hens almost every Sunday (SO GOOD), and we've gotten squash, onions, zucchini, and sweet corn from one family that essentially feeds themselves from what they grow, and they are blessed with a bounty!

Kiddo has been hanging out with some of the older kids (9-12yo) at church this past week, being that it was VBS, and it's funny the things he's picked up from them. Probably the funniest thing he's picked up is the concept of being "punk'd" - appropriate usage and all. But the one he's gotten the most mileage out of is the word "teenagers". Most of the older kids are not quite teens yet and think the 'teenagers' are up to no good. So Kiddo has picked this up and it's really funny. "Mom, when we get to church, I'm going to solve the mystery of which one of those teenagers did [insert mischievous thing here]." He says 'teenagers' with the same tone of voice I'd use to say 'cockroaches.' It's hysterical. Just to see if he knows what he's talking about, I asked him, "What is a teenager?" Him: "Someone who's sixteen. Or fifteen."

Fact check is your friend, people!

Today, I have been on the edge of committing hara kiri. Why, you ask? A facebook status update that I have seen no less than 3 times today (and the day ain't over yet) stating the following:

President Obama has decided that there will no longer be a "National Day of Prayer" held in May. He doesn't want to offend anybody. Where was his concern about offending Christians last January when he allowed the Muslims to hold a day of prayer on the capitol grounds. As a Christian American "I am offended." if you agree... copy and paste, this country was built on Freedom of Religion!!

Um...where to start? Perhaps first with the fact that it is not true! I wish that, when people post inflammatory status updates, that they'd check the facts first. Google is your friend...and if you have access to a computer to post a status update, you can surely Google something to make sure it is indeed true. When people post crap like this that's not true it makes us look like buffoons, and we then wonder why people take Christians for a naive, swallow-anything bunch of idiots.

Second, even if it WERE true, why as Christians do we need our faith to be affirmed by the State? Really? Are we such wimps that we wouldn't know what to do if believing in Jesus became outlawed? Since when do we need Caesar's stamp of approval on our talking to God? When did ever Jesus say that we need that? Where is there any Scriptural evidence that He even cared about it?

Third, why do we need a special day to celebrate what we should be doing every day? This to me is like Valentine's Day - it's nice and all, but why would you do anything on this day that you wouldn't do any of the other 364 days of the year?

Fourth, why bother bringing up Muslims? To me, this smacks of thinly veiled resentment or hatred toward Muslims, and hiding behind God to do it I find WRONG. And yes, there was a day when Muslims organized to pray (much like the Tea Party Express organized today, only they weren't praying) back in September, and it was peaceful, and they were praying for the soul of America. Why should it bother Christians that Muslims gather to pray? (Maybe because it's easier for us to think they're all terrorists who hate us and want to blow us up? That would certainly make it easier to justify the wars we're currently fighting. Well, it's not we. I'm opposed to the wars.)

Christians beginning with Constantine have been in the faces of the rest of the world for the last 1700 years wanting to make people believe what we do and wanting to punish them if they don't. It's about time we slacked off, got out of people's faces, and started living in such a way that makes people wonder (and want) what we have. As the saying goes, "Preach the Gospel at all times. If necessary, use words."

To me, posting status updates like this (in addition to spreading false witness - oops, that pesky 9th Commandment) are a lot like what my brother in Christ Shane Claiborne calls 'spiritual masturbation' - it feels real good, but doesn't give birth to much.

A is for...

(Found on an outbuilding on property adjacent to my mother's backyard. I've been looking at it for years and never got it until now.)

'Us' vs. 'them'

Something to think about for Holy Week, found here.

I enjoy the blog God's Politics. Interesting, even if I don't always agree with everything.

Do you hear me, God?

Do you hear me, God?

Never before in my life have I spoken to you, but today I want to greet you. You know that since I was a child, they said that you didn't exist... And I was foolish enough to believe them.

Never before have I realized the beauty of your creation. Today only I discovered this beauty, when suddenly an abyss opened. Above me, a sky filled with stars. Amazed, I saw how they twinkled. How could I have been. so cruelly deceived!

I don't know, Lord, whether you will stretch out your hand to reach me, but for me, I will recognize you, and you will understand.

It's a miracle that in the depth of this terrifying hell, light illuminates me... and that I have been able to see you. I won't tell you anything else, except what a joy it is to know you.

At midnight, we have received the order to attack: but I am not afraid. You are watching us.

Listen, there is the signal. I have to go. Yet, it was so good to be with you.

What I still wanted to say: You know, this combat will be mean. Maybe, tonight I will knock on your door. Even though I never was your friend, will you let me enter, when I come?

But – am I crying? Look what's happening to me! My eyes have opened. Forgive me God.

I am going, and surely I will not come back.

But, o wonder, I am no longer afraid of death.

-found in the pocket of a Soviet soldier killed during World War II
(hat tip to ncccusa.org's Prayers for Peace)

Brain exercise

So, my church (plus a few, whom I adore) is doing a women's Bible study on the book of Daniel. It's a Beth Moore study - Beth is incredibly gifted and I've done a couple other studies of hers at various points in my life.

This one on the book of Daniel - whew. All I have to say is IT MAKES MY BRAIN HURT. The names, places, prophecies, WOW. Some of the stories are familiar and others I don't think I've ever read before. Anyway, there are a few things that theologically I disagree with Beth about, namely her view of the nation of Israel (as it is today) and the pre-Millenial, pre-tribulation teaching. It's not a huge deal and certainly within the body of Christ there is room for disagreement on such things. I'll admit to approaching the study with a bit of trepidation because of those things, but have been pleasantly surprised to find that it hasn't been as painful as I thought it would be.

One thing this study (along with an awesome Bible study at church tonight) has done is cement in my heart a desire to see peace between Jews and Muslims. Yes, I realize this a conflict that goes back to Ishmael and Isaac - deep-rooted and plenty of hurt on both sides. Yes, I realize that I am not going to be the solution. Personally I think both sides (and heck, Christians too, for that matter) have forgotten what it means to act like God's people, and I think it grieves God's heart to see two groups of people whom He has promised to be great nations constantly warring. My heart is specifically for Muslims. This is not to discount the special place in my heart for the Jewish people - heck, my Christ was a Jewish rabbi, and if I had to pick a faith other than the one I have, I'd be Jewish. And, I believe the horrible things visited on the Jews throughout the centuries have been well-documented: slavery in Egypt, Herod's slaughter of the innocents, the Maccabean revolt, and in more recent times the Holocaust (that's enough horror for a few millenia, methinks). But I think that - especially in this day - we Christians overlook the (military, humanitarian, and political) persecutions Muslims have faced in our God's name.

The study we did at church tonight focused on the original story of Hagar's visitation by 'an angel of the Lord' (possibly the pre-incarnate Christ?) and it moved me to tears. As many times as I've heard that story, it hit me hard tonight. To think that a slave woman pregnant with the baby of someone else's husband would be one of the first to have a theophany. To think that not only does God care enough to give her baby a name too, the name he gives that baby means 'God hears.' God promised that that baby would be blessed and be a great nation as well.

So, it gives me hope and comfort to know that - because God does not change - God still hears the prayers of Jews and Muslims worldwide today. God hears the prayers of Jewish and Muslim fathers who have to dig children from rubble. God hears the mothers whose sons and daughters have fought, killed, and died for lies perpetuated by the government of each 'side.' God hears the cries of children frightened by rocket attacks, and God hears the cries of children whose houses have been razed to the ground. The God who loves all and does not play favorites...He hears. Ishmael.

"She is in a place where she will always be young, she will always be beautiful, and I personally feel much safer knowing that she's up there on my side."

- Annelle, from the movie Steel Magnolias

On cussing

In my Bible study Monday morning, one of the members whom I love and admire for who she is and how transparent she is (and for the wonderful prison ministry she has!) shared that cursing doesn't faze her in the least. She doesn't curse herself but when others do, it goes in one ear and out the other.

That set me thinking, and I guess I should say from the get-go that I cuss. Most of you who read this won't be surprised but for those that are, I'm sorry for not being more transparent. For me, it is not something that I feel under conviction about. Maybe God has decided He wants me to work on other things first and will eventually get around to that in His time. I don't know. There is plenty that He is working on, but that is not one of them.

I have limits. Out of respect for people whom it does bother, I limit it. And I don't use the word that starts with 'God.' I do draw the line there. And I don't think it should be directed at someone. But the rest, honestly, does not bother me. To me, this is along the same lines as alcohol - for some it is wrong, and for some it is not, and everyone works it out in the best way they can without either side judging the other. Maybe I have it wrong but for now this is where I am.

Thinking about this reminds me of an illustration that writer/speaker Tony Campolo uses when starting off a speech:

"I have three things I'd like to say today. First, while you were sleeping last night, 30,000 kids died of starvation or diseases related to malnutrition. Second, most of you don't give a shit. What's worse is that you're more upset with the fact that I said shit than the fact that 30,000 kids died last night."

I think his quote sums up the crux of the matter for me. I'm certainly open to changing my mind if God works on me about it, but for the moment I think we have so many bigger fish to fry in this world that a swear here and there is just not worth getting worked up about. *

Thoughts?


*Now, I will say this - I do believe there's such a thing as overdoing anything, and swearing is no different. And, I don't believe in overdoing anything just because there's grace to cover it. That's not cool either.

Peace all over the world

Currently reading....

Brave Men by Ernie Pyle
The Myth of a Christian Nation by Greg Boyd

Both are really really good. It's nice to have a hard time picking between which book to read.

My heart and prayers are with the people of Chile. I told God a couple days ago in my prayers that two big earthquakes in as many months is ENOUGH.

War is still hell

A good, not-very-long article on the continued madness in Afghanistan.

I just want our kids home, and the people of Afghanistan left alone.

Why I am a pacifist

I took a shortcut. Rather than spell it all out in my own words, I'm taking someone else's words. I'm not a Mennonite, but the church that formed my faith (Brethren) is an offshoot of the Mennonite church.

Wonderful article that sums up why I am a pacifist here.

Dearest Lord,
teach me to be generous;
teach me to serve You as You deserve;
to give and not to count the cost,
to fight and not to heed the wounds,
to toil and not to seek for rest,
to labour and not to ask for reward
save that of knowing I am doing Your will.
- Ignatius of Loyola

Who will be #1000?

A very disturbing - and true - article, found here.

Book review

Title: Gilead by Marilynne Robinson
Grade: B+/A-

This book takes the form of a letter written by an aging pastor to his young son, born after a marriage late in life. It's set in the 1950s and at the start the father says this letter is all the things he wants his son to know about him and about life, as he is sure his time here on earth is short and he won't be around to see his son age.

It's beautiful and sensitive, and mixes history, theology, and family ties. The narrator's father was an ardent pacifist, and his grandfather was an ardent abolitionist who was under John Brown's command during the events of 'Bleeding Kansas', then later fought in the Civil War. Part of the narrative deals with the conflict between the narrator's pacifist father and his not-so-pacifist grandfather - a struggle I can very much relate to.

In between all this is the narrator's own struggle to come to terms with his failing health, as well as his own mixed feelings toward his godson (the son of his best friend), who has been a bit of a prodigal as an adult. I found it to be a great show of grace, and on a personal level can relate it to how I need to be dealing with people in my own life whose life choices I may not agree with. It's a sweet book, and the only reason I'm giving it a B is that the ending is a bit - shall I say - vague? I'm not normally a fiction reader, but this was worth the read.

In my opinion, the best passage: (he is talking about the Spanish influenza pandemic and WWI)
It killed the soldiers by the thousands, healthy men in the prime of life, and then it spread into the rest of the population. It was like a war, it really was...there was talk that the Germans had caused it with some sort of secret weapon, and I think people wanted to believe that, because it saved them from reflecting on what other meaning it might have.

The parents of these young soldiers would come to me and ask me how the Lord could allow such a thing. I felt like asking them what the Lord would have to do to tell us He didn't allow something. But instead I would comfort them by saying we would never know what their young men had been spared. Most of them took me to mean they were spared the trenches and the mustard gas, but what I really meant was that they were spared the act of killing...

It was a strange sickness...Those boys were drowning in their own blood. They couldn't even speak for the blood in their throats, in their mouths. So many of them died so fast there was no place to put them...Now, if these things were not signs, I don't know what a sign would look like. . So I wrote a sermon about it. I said, or I meant to say, that these deaths were rescuing foolish young men from the consequences of their own ignorance and courage, that the Lord was gathering them in before they could go off and commit murder against their brothers. And I said that their deaths were a sign and a warning to the rest of us that the desire for war would bring the consequences of war, because there is no ocean big enough to protect us from the Lord's judgement when we decide to hammer our plowshares into swords and our pruning hooks into spears, in contempt of the will and the grace of God."

Hockey fun

Thanks

Thank you, Anderson Cooper, for going back to Haiti while most reporters are leaving.

"May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half truths, and superficial relationships, so that you may live deep within your heart. May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression and exploitation of people, so that you may work for justice, freedom and peace. May God bless you with tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation and war, so that you may reach out your hands to comfort them and to turn their pain into joy. And may God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in this world, so that you can do what others claim cannot be done."

- Franciscan benediction

Snow day

Since pics are long overdue...

Book review

Forever Peace by Joe Haldeman
I give the book overall a C.

The plot is a good one, and the moral/ethical questions raised - about war, the way we fight, and if it's possible to 'go back again' after experiencing combat - are surprisingly valid. Almost eerily so considering our current wars and weapon systems (the book was published in 1997). The concept that wars are fought by 'soldierboys' (robots controlled by 'mechanics' working the robot's movements and weapons from thousands of miles away) bears an eerie resemblance to our use of predator drones. And the concept of the 'mechanics' (robot operators) being 'jacked in' to other mechanics in their platoon via an apparatus installed in their brain and being able to feel exactly what the other members of the platoon feel draws a pretty exact parallel to what I've read regarding troops in combat - that you work and function just as a family and no one but other members knows exactly what it is like for you.

The idea that scientists are working on a machine with the capability to 'undo' the mental damage done by combat is rather interesting, and of course brings up lots of questions.

However, the sci-fi element to the story was one I had an extremely hard time seeing past, and I feel that the story would have been almost as good (and a lot easier to follow) without it. I realize, of course, that asking Joe Haldeman not to write sci-fi is like asking the Pope to become Lutheran. My brain just does not wrap around ideas like particle accelerators and such very well. (This is probably why I don't 'get' movies like 'Star Wars' as well as others do.)

So the plot is one worthy of discussion. Were I grading solely plot and concepts, I'd probably give it an A, but considering the sci-fi gets a D- from me, I'm sticking with a C, possibly C+. If anyone has read this and wants to disagree with my grading, feel free to comment.

Nonviolence

This is something I've been thinking about for a long time and in the last few months I think I've become okay with calling myself a pacifist. The struggle and thought process getting there was a long one, and there continue to be issues that challenge my assumptions.

My basic belief is that Jesus preached and lived a life of nonviolence, and that it is something that I should strive to emulate.

Since all human beings are created in God's image and all are people for whom Christ died, I don't think it's within my rights to inflict violence on anyone, not for any reason.

Burly made a point in a comment on one of my previous posts that there is (or was, or will be) a time for war. While I don't disagree with that, I think for various reasons that Christians should not use that as an excuse to practice violence in their everyday lives (killing in revenge or in self-defense, for example), and I don't believe that Christians should be participants in military exercises designed by the State to take others' lives.

There is a lot more that I'd like to address but current environs (a 5-year-old demanding my attention) don't allow....more later.

Currently reading....

1) Forever Peace by Joe Haldeman. I really want to finish this book just so it can be done, not because I'm particularly enjoying it at the moment. The plot is not a bad one, but the sci-fi element is just not doing it for me. Spook promises the end is good.

2) Nonviolence in Peace & War Vol. I by M. K. Gandhi. Yep, the Gandhi. Interesting book, if a bit political. Gandhi fascinates me, and I think we as Christians have a lot to learn from someone who did indeed stand nonviolently against the injustices of an empire, not once but multiple times and prevailed. I'm also interested in reading more about Christian pacifists, and if there is any good reading out there on said subject, I'm all ears.

My husband has a custom of telling our son that he is a regalo precioso que me dio Jesus (precious gift that Jesus gave me). So today Hubs is being silly and says, "You're my precious gift that Mrs. R (our neighbor) gave me." Daniel: "Uh, I don't think so." Hubs: "So who gave you to us?" Daniel: "Uh, I believe it was that guy up in the sky."

Bad girl

I broke that promise that I made to myself just two short posts ago. I bought books. But I'm justifying it because they're books that I think will help shape my ever-growing lean toward nonviolence as a way of life.

A book on the politics of Jesus and a few of Gandhi's writings. Anxious to see what they say. I think it takes far more courage and creativity to meet violence with nonviolence.

My young'un prays the sweetest prayers. Tonight's gem:
"Dear Jesus, before we do anything else tonight, I want to pray for the people in Haiti because there are a lot of sick and dying and hurt people down there. Watch over them. And thank you that I was able to be a good boy today. I got to be at home with my mom and dad.....Amen."

I love to hear what's on his heart. It's absolutely precious beyond words.

Random, scattered thoughts...

For starters, check out the Livesays' blog. Interesting synopsis of what things are like for them on the ground in Port-au-Prince. Pa bliye yo, souple.

Another interesting look at Haiti's history, politics, and what our response should be is here. Of course, it's not exhaustive - that would take volumes and volumes - but it's a good quick overview. (Warning: if you don't like hearing America and other Christians being taken to task for their actions, supposedly in the name of Christ, you probably shouldn't read it.)

I was up 'til almost 1:30 this morning reading 'The Serpent and the Rainbow' - oh my goodness, very interesting book. I'm about a third of the way through it and it is so very fascinating, if a bit disturbing in places.

Now I'm really trying to motivate and get my lazy butt to the gym. I need to get the wee one signed up too....he is chomping at the bit to do karate next month.

Currently reading....

The Serpent and the Rainbow: A Harvard Scientist's Astonishing Journey into the Secret Societies of Haitian Voodoo, Zombis, and Magic by Wade Davis

I ordered this a few weeks ago at the recommendation of my friend Debbie, a missionary on the ground in Haiti. It arrived the day before the earthquake, and in light of Pat Robertson's comments it seemed fitting to start reading this. (Side comment: Pat Robertson, when will you learn to shut up????)

While I don't believe in Vodou (the Haitian Creole word for it), there's no doubt it's got a profound impact on Haitian society in general. I learned a little bit about it while I was down there all those years ago but the little I learned was less than a scratch on the surface. Obviously, my belief is that Vodou is an empty substitute for a relationship with the one true God, but it the reputation it has here in the US of black magic and sacrificing babies is not accurate either.

On an unrelated note, I am making a pact with myself to not buy nor check out any more books from the library until the 24 (including the one mentioned here) as-yet-unread books currently sitting on my shelf have been finished. I may not be able to hold myself to this but I'm going to make a concerted effort. I already have half a dozen on my to-read list AFTER that so hopefully that will serve as an impetus to get readin'.

On Jordan's Stormy Banks I Stand....

...and cast a wishful sigh
To Canaan's fair and happy land
Where my possessions lie.
*****
No chilling winds or voiceless breath
Shall reach that healthful shore
Where sickness, sorrow, pain, and death
Are felt and feared no more.

Heartsick

I'm not really even sure what to say, other than my heart breaks and keeps breaking every time someone mentions Haiti, or yet another news broadcast reminds me, and every time I go in my own brain to that place.

To think of so many children without mothers, so many mothers without children, so many husbands without wives, so much of.... everybody with nothing. I truly cannot wrap my head around it. I remember feeling this way about the tsunami of 2004 but since I didn't know anyone from there (at the time, anyway, now I do), I could kind of compartmentalize. Almost like God's saying, 'Not this time, sister, you don't get off that easily. I'm going to bring suffering right to your brain's front door, so you have no choice but to think about it, and no choice but to act.'

I feel whiny for feeling so heartbroken myself, when I am blogging from the comfort of my own heated/air-conditioned house with clean running water and no mosquitoes. Nobody lies under rubble across the street from me calling out for help, nor am I missing any relatives, nor have I waited all night for someone to tend to mine or my baby's wounds.

I've no doubt that God purposes something from this...but do I know just what the hell it is right now? No. I just do not get at all why this happened at all.

Pray for Haiti

My heart hurts for Haiti in a way I can't really articulate right now. I went there as an 18-year-old "I'm going to teach and help and save the world" and came back with my own worldview rocked. Forever changed. Haiti is so naturally beautiful (though deforested and destroyed by a few greedy humans), with beautiful gracious warm people, who have every human reason to NOT be gracious and warm, yet they are. It defied all description then, and it still does now.

I remember getting there, and our airport was literally a strip of dirt with chickens running around, and a few chairs with a tin roof over top. I remember never being sure of someone's age - because a 21-year old may look 15 because he is so malnourished, or a 21-year-old may look 40, because life is SO incredibly difficult there. I remember the first night we were there we passed a funeral procession and it shocked me how normal death was there - we take for granted our 75-year lifespan. I remember one little boy (not much older than my own son is now) in particular - who, when asked if he was happy - responded, "Yes. I have clothes, I have one meal a day, and I have God." I remember the absolute sincerity of the Christians in Haiti - praying the Lord's Prayer took on a whole new meaning, because these people DO literally depend on provision for their daily bread. There were lots of people who weren't Christians there, but I never met a Christian that wasn't absolutely, 100%, sold-out for Jesus. None of this lukewarm nonsense that we have here. I remember when we left, as the plane was taking off, looking back at the mountains and beaches and the land, and sobbing my eyes out because I didn't want to leave. (That in spite of the many tarantulas everywhere, and the rat that crawled into my bed one night. That was a long night.) It was a lot for an 18-year-old to process, and thinking about it again is a lot for a 30-year-old to reprocess.

Hearing about the earthquakes there has brought all these memories (and more) of Haiti flooding back, and having seen for myself the near-total lack of infrastructure, I can only imagine what the devastation levels are. These are people who literally have nothing. Not money, not food, not shelter....NOTHING. And now, they have less than nothing.

If you can spare any money at all, this is a plea for help for that country. We're going to donate to the ministry I went there with all those years ago, who will be sending people to the worst-hit area to help, but there are numerous other organizations (the Red Cross, Rotary International) that are helping also.

The Livesays are also on the ground there and the fear and pain in their posts is palpable.

If you pray, please pray. And whether you do or don't pray, please consider helping Haiti out. Truly incredible how far a dollar will go there. Thanks.

I found this group and really admire their courage, dedication, and their nonviolent commitment to stand up for justice. I'm considering supporting them, because I believe in nonviolence, because humane immigration reform is long overdue, and because it's families like ours that are caught in the crossfire.

If I get going on the immigration subject I won't likely stop this week, so I'll leave it at this.

New toy!

We've finally gotten a new digital camera (thanks to the after-Christmas sales @ Best Buy), and for Christmas I got both of us (Hubs and I) an iPod nano. It will come in handy while I'm on the treadmill/elliptical at the Y and I think Hubs will like it when lawncare season rolls around again.

The one thing I don't like about his slow season is that I have to pick up more shifts at the hospital. I try to be there as little as possible and that kind of throws a wrench in things. I really should not be whining because I work 24 hours a week as it is, and this would probably only amount to a couple extra shifts a month. I just don't like driving there and back, and in any case I'd much rather be at home!

Resolutions

I am not making them, because then my guilty conscience bugs me for not following through on them. But I do have some 'good ideas' that I will try to implement for 2010:

• implement a regular exercise routine at the Y.
• sign my kid up at the Y as well so we can exercise together. Karate lessons, anyone?
• Write at least a couple letters a month to my loved ones that are out of state, including the two little girls I'm sponsoring through Christian Children's Fund (they are actually under a different name now but I can't remember it).
• Do at least one or two things each week to keep this house in some semblance of order.

As you can see, these expectations are REALLY low. I don't set my goals high, people.

Book review

I finished reading Citizen Soldiers last night to ring in the new year. Just as good a way as any for me....not standing outside to watch ANYTHING drop all the while freezing my kiester off, no sirree!

Overall I give the book an A. It's good and once you get into it, fairly easy to read. The first hundred pages or so are a bit dry and boring (for me anyway). It was difficult for me to keep tabs in my mind on who is where at which point in the story. If you're a good mapreader (I am not) it might not be so difficult, as there are plenty of maps.

After that, the author goes on to tell the soldiers' stories, which is the reason I bought the book to begin with. It is amazing the similarities between the GIs' accounts and those of the German soldiers, which goes to reinforce my belief that on both sides of any war are just human beings.

Some memorable quotes:
[during a shelling] "We were helpless...and all alone and there was nothing we could do, so I prayed to God. The time went by very slow as I tried to keep warm but that wasn't possible so I thought about my mother and hoped she didn't know where I was or what I was doing. I was glad I was not married."

[after watching a particularly gruesome death] "He wasn't twenty years old. He hadn't begun to live. Shrieking and moaning he gave up his life on a stretcher. Back in America, the standard of living continued to rise. Back in America the race tracks were booming the night clubs were making record profits, Miami Beach was so crowded you couldn't get a room anywhere. Few people seemed to care. Hell, this was a boom, this was prosperity, this was the way to fight a war. We wondered if the people would ever know what it cost the soldiers in terror, bloodshed, and hideous, agonizing deaths to win the war."

[after meeting German civilians in Germany] ""The enemy could not have changed so quickly from a beast to a likable human being. Thus, the conclusion is nearly forced upon the GIs that they have been previously blinded by fear and hatred and the propaganda of their own government."