John Green and Stupid People

I write to stay off a steady diet of chocolate chip cookies and chips.

Notice I said–steady.

Sometimes I write an essay and then shelve it because it is too personal or polemic.

You can imagine how rough these pieces may be.

One such unpublished essay was, on review, well-spoken, passionate, and almost entirely wrong.

I had misjudged a man by a meme.

A man I now deeply respect and a quote taken out of context.

Yes, I still believe that we should not refer to people as “stupid.”

But as a current rabid fan of the Crash Courses on YouTube produced by John and Hank Green, I thoroughly endorse the Green Bros. and their ability to teach. They rock and they make my job as an educator much more fun and engaging.

Nothing stupid about that.

The 30 Mile Rule–Good Medicine

I will never forget the auditorium full of eager young doctors repeating that ancient oath associated with their profession.

A state school, to be sure…but I still registered shock when the good medicine of not doing harm and not administering abortions was strangely excised.

Because when you wanna convince doctors to look the other way when abortion becomes status quo you gotta take it out of the promise.

Excise babies? Excise conscience.

But the truth is that without that promise to protect life doctors are free to do unconscionable things.

The 30 mile rule is good medicine. It will save lives.

This is restoration of the unilateral protection of the law.

No more, no less.

The Rain Song

Rain comes down
After the rush
After the game
Someone, always someone has to
Drive home in the dark
Defeated

Whilst the victors go to Walmart.

You bring rain
You always God
You bring rain
And with it midnight lullabies
For an old insomniac like me

I understand the darkness
In his voice
In his shared sense
Of humor

How “finishing the job”
Could seem so reasonable
To a monster-
o-us–

She listens to the darkness
The rain
The lullaby for a child who would not
Ever
Relent

Now become a man
Face your god
Face your God
No wonder you do not believe in
One
When the other is something so unspeakable

Rain

I love sunshine, in fact the sun was a major factor in our decision to move to Texas years ago.

I love the sun.

But…

The drought in Texas has been bad, really bad–historic bad for years.

Farmers lost crops.

Ranchers sold their cattle.

Trees died.

It has been bad.

So the presence of rain in any quantity has been a blessing meriting worship. I made a deal with God to thank Him publicly for any rain. I got the easy part of the deal. I always do with Him.

So the beautiful, steady rain has been this wonderful reminder of God’s blessing and grace. Even more so knowing that

He sends the rain on the just and the unjust.

I figure we are all unjust. So that would mean the rain falls on Jesus and the rest of us.

That is God for you. He rains blessings only Jesus deserves on all of us.

And in return we should not miss the parable of the drought–if we live in the absence of the Spirit of God, our lives will be dry, barren indeed.

Let justice flow down.
Let Jesus reign.

My Joy

John 2:9-10 (NIV)
and the master of the banquet tasted the water that had been turned into wine. He did not realize where it had come from, though the servants who had drawn the water knew. Then he called the bridegroom aside [10] and said, “Everyone brings out the choice wine first and then the cheaper wine after the guests have had too much to drink; but you have saved the best till now.”

Pour the water first
Jesus is coming
Joy.

So Much for the Children

If I had a dollar for every time someone argued that expanding the definition of legal sex was NOT going to end in disaster for our kids, I would actually have enough money to opt out of the Cap’n Crunch ads that defray my blog costs.

In a week when the DOJ makes a show of shutting down a crucial child advocacy website this story out of Virginia should put everyone on notice.

An aggressive endophile was allowed to walk free by Virginia courts precisely because sodomy laws no longer applied and the judges involved did not deem the aggressive solicitation of sex from a minor to be a crime that mattered to them.

If you have children you care about you should take note of this case.

What follows hereafter will be more of the same–courts and justices deciding not to pursue legally valid statutes against sex between adults and minors.

We are not far from the end of civilization and we are already a failed state.

You may want to start disguising your kids as pets. They will get more legal protection from PETA and the SPCA than from our courts.

About That Biker Bar..

His mind is broken. I know this, but it doesn’t mitigate the pain of what he did to us–his adopted family and especially the young children whose innocence he violated.

I told people about this and they had the uniformly shocked look of a colonoscopy patient.

Especially when I articulated my anger.

I put it this way–

I want to take him to a biker bar and tell them what he did then let then deal with him.

As though I had been to a biker bar…
As though this were a real thing I could do….
As though it would help…

Our relationship has been winnowed down to rare, monosyllabic emails.

Are you ok?
Love,
Mom

I am ok.
Happy bday

We do not trust each other.

So I do not tell him what I would tell you–

the hurt goes on in the lives of his victims. They grieve. We all grieve. And there is a terrible loneliness as well.

I understand that while the bikers are imaginary, a way for me to substantiate the demand for justice, justice itself demands an accounting.

Leaving me the free time to mourn. To grieve for what has been lost and a future in this most uncertain world.

No Threadbare God

She tells me a story
That haunts me all day
And into the night

About ordinary love

I run a line down memory
Not just mine but hers
Especially hers
All that I did not see

Plays out in normal…
nightmares sometimes happen in broad daylight

Chatty conversations with the devil
Always
Turn into shouting matches

I beg God, please…
Rain down mercy from heaven on these little ones
They do not deserve this

Heal us.

When I catch a glimpse of Him
No threadbare God
Ever
Again.

Blackhawk Down

This is the anniversary of tragedy in Mogadishu.

But my sense of loss over these events has bled outward through the years.

When it happened I wondered why Clinton waffled so badly not just in Somalia but even more tragically in Rwanda.

The gruesome loss of American lives in Africa would eventually be overshadowed by the meaninglessness of their sacrifice–no one came to save the Somalis and no one came to save the Rwandans.

And really, Who will save any of us?

We call ourselves a rich country but we are debt-soaked and impoverished, too spoiled and weak to pass a balanced budget and live within our means.

And yet our moral deficits outstrip our fiscal woes. Clinton was a moral-less man yet so many revere him. All I can see is the people he let down–people who expected him to use his office to protect the innocent not debauch young women.

And that is where the story gets personal. In 1998 when I was losing a foster daughter to a fixed adoption, Clinton was embroiled in a sex scandal. I wrote his wife asking for a federal review of the illegal activities I witnessed as a foster parent.

Months later I got a form letter from her telling me to appeal to one of the people I had reported.

I got the message; I lost the child.

My remaining adopted children craved violence. They did not have much to work with at our house. Most of our movies were kid-friendly.

But the three my adopted son ferreted out because of their violence?

Tristan and Isolde
Blackhawk Down
The Passion of the Christ

Now both he and his sister glory in their horror movies.

Not perhaps realizing how close they are to autobiography.

Blackhawk Down….

In the spring of 2007 another Blackhawk helicopter came down near Opp, Alabama. This one had my father in it. He was on an accelerated schedule to train pilots for our foreign wars.

People whispered that Bush was at fault. The army had rushed training. The pilots my father taught were too green. There were flaws in the flight simulators.

His students walked away from the crash, my father did not.

Some accidents are “unsurvivable.” They change who we are forever.

There are two parts of the movie I cannot forget. In the first a fatally wounded soldier is told he will survive as his life bleeds out in the darkness.

In the second the survivors reach sanctuary.

In the end we will all face the unsurvivable wreckage of our broken lives. And when we do, only a Mighty Fortress will save us.

Excuse me ma’am, your racism is showing

I was shocked by the line

Sometimes I forget to factor in the Asian.

Not so much because a fictional adoptive father could have racial prejudices about his Asian daughter, but because the show’s writers had veered way out of the way to make a young character adhere to that racial stereotype.

Which is, of course, false. Not all Asians are driven to succeed by genetics, as the writers of Modern Family suggest.

Asia is a pretty big place filled with diversity and the same gamut of winners, losers, and control freaks as everywhere else.

They owe little Lily an apology.

But the affront of racism in an American sitcom pales in comparison to racism at large.

Recently an Asian American man was savagely beaten by bikers in New York city. No one has yet to be arrested.

Which reminds me…I know how to get spray paint off a fence.

A caustic, thankless process.

Years ago a prominent Indian family in our community was targeted by vandals. Their fence was effaced by obscenities.

My husband and I scrubbed the words off the fence. Justice would have pursued making the vandals scrub the fence.

Sometimes justice feels pretty sparse.

And as a white woman in America, I admit I am prejudiced…nothing scares me more than a bunch of white dudes.

You just never know what they are capable of doing.