God Within

Yesterday we attended a funeral. The strange part of attending was that I didn't actually know the man who had died. Having been friends with his sons for the past decade, Josh knew him, which was why we attended. He seemed to have been an incredible human being; active in his church, a former principal and teacher, board member of the Boys and Girls Club, dedicated husband, father, and friend, poet extraordinaire. In listening to the stories that were told of him and in hearing his words, through letters and poems, I can see where his sons got their artistic drive, their willingness to help the downtrodden, and their sense of peace and justice. If our true identity is determined by the children that we raise, then he was indeed a remarkable man. But it wasn't his accomplishments alone that really caught my attention.

In speaking of the religious doubts and wonderings that our friends' dad had occasionally had, the reverend said (and I paraphrase), "but in the end, he wasn't concerned with the God that is in charge of the cosmos, watching us all from above, he was concerned with the God in his heart. And in feeling God's presence so close to him every day, he was allowed to make his daily actions a reflection of that awareness."

I have never considered myself a religious person. I do have a strange affinity for missions and cathedrals, rosaries, and Day of the Dead/Mexican folk art, but that has more to do with artistic curiosity and admiration than with a feeling of religious fervor. I am also drawn to statues of Buddha (the larger the better), Tibetan prayer flags, Buddhist temples, and zen gardens. And while I feel that the philosophies of Buddha can be part of a healthy lifestyle, I'm not so sure that I want to (let alone believe that I have to) keep coming back until I get it right. In the same vein, I enjoy tiki statues, but am not currently recruiting for a volcanic sacrifice. Much of my attraction to what would otherwise be considered religious symbols or icons stems more from appreciation for the culture that created it, rather than from spiritual dedication.

I consider myself Christian, although this is not to say that I haven't had my doubts or that I don't still have questions. Perhaps that is why I am Christian. My doubts and questions have led me to spend more time researching my options, appeasing the intellectual side of my personality in addition to my spiritual side. Christianity is in many ways easy. After all, who doesn't want to be looked after by a loving, omnipresent being who would sacrifice their own son to take away the sins of man? Who doesn't want to believe that they will be reunited in a glorious kingdom with their loved ones who have passed? Faith doesn't even have to be difficult, when you consider the alternative. But for me it was. The actuality of "where" heaven could be located, the question of "where" God could be found, and the idea that He could "watch" over us, but never be physically seen (coupled with a general disdain for "organized religion") kept me searching for an alternative explanation for many years. But I always wanted to believe. As a child I often dreamt of Jesus standing outside my window. As an adult I wanted to believe that I hadn't been dreaming.


Aside from the reassurance I received from Josh, I credit much of current spiritual contentment with Lee Strobel's The Case For Christ and subsequent books. A former investigative journalist, Strobel confronted the idea of God and Jesus as a skeptic whose desire was to discredit the very foundation of Christianity. In the process of interviewing a number of experts, however, he instead found himself making an incredible case for the existence of a divine creator and in the sacrifice of our savior. Following my strengthened faith and until I got pregnant, Josh and I began to regularly attend church. I read the Bible. I studied. But somehow that wasn't enough. While I enjoy the educational value of a good sermon, I don't feel the presence of God by nature of sitting politely in church. For me, attending church is counter productive; I spend majority of the session thinking about how I don't like praise music.

Having Ava: being pregnant with her, watching sonogrammed images of her, seeing her for the first time, holding her, watching her sleep, and now seeing her develop more every day, has made me feel the closest to God. I don't simply pray, I have lengthy conversations with God about how to be the mother she needs, about how much I love her and need Him to help me protect her, about how thankful I am for her and for Josh and for the family that will shape her, and about how I need him everyday to help make me a better person than I was that day. My decisions are marked by an awareness of how I should approach situations rather than how I want to approach situations. But most of all, I have faith that He is guiding us on this parental adventure and in our lives. I am no longer concerned with the dimensions of Heaven or with God's latitude and longitude. I am concerned with getting better acquainted with God, my companion.

At the funeral that we attended yesterday our friends made touching tributes to their father, the altar was adorned with items that he loved, including a 7-11 hot dog, and the organist played a lovely rendition of Amazing Grace. The doors at the back of the sanctuary had to be opened so that the standing room only crowd could pay their respects. Friends spoke of days past and a touching slideshow was accompanied by favorite folk songs. But I kept thinking about the reverend's words. My hope is that when I die Ava will be an adult who bears positive attributes which I was able to influence, that I will have made accomplishments that were bigger than me or the recognition gained, and that people will say that I navigated life as someone who kept God within their heart.

And About 24...

Tony Almeda is alive?!?!?!

About That Side of Compassion

Last night's 24 teaser reminded me of Ishmael Beah's powerful A Long Way Gone. The true story of Beah's experiences as a child soldier in the Sierra Leone, A Long Way Gone is one of those rare books that makes an honest mark in the subconscious realm of compassion. While Beah's experiences themselves are tragic and remarkable, his ability to recreate them is as poetic as smelling rain before feeling the first fleeting drop on your cheek.

The most heart wrenching premise of the story, however, is the idea that there are still children being brainwashed into becoming soldiers in armies so consumed by their own purpose they would recruit children as young as 8 years old to do their killing. Using drugs, alcohol, and the simple allures of food and "family", these rebels take away the last ember of hope and innocence afforded to children who have typically already lost their parents, siblings, and homes. With the very fabric of their lives already shredded beyond recognition, these children are forced to bear further witness to the atrocities we as "adults" are capable of committing against one another. The truly unfortunate aspect of the whole thing is that even if the UNICEF or other organizations are able to rescue the children, they are left with unavoidable images and life long guilt. None the less, Beah and others like him struggle to find peace and reconciliation in understanding that they never should have been put in that situation and that their experiences may be used to help other children. In Beah's words, "It is easy to become a child soldier but it is much more difficult ot recover one's humanity...but it is possible."

According to UN estimates, there are still 250,000 child soldiers throughout the 13 countries in the world. At this point, UNICEF seems to be the primary organization which contributes to rehabilitating child soldiers, however, this past Friday Beah and others launched the Network of Young People Affected by War:

NEW YORK, 20 November 2008 – “We, a group of former child soldiers and survivors of armed conflict in different capacities, are pleased to announce today the launch of the Network of Young People Affected by War (NYPAW) to help children whose lives have been derailed by conflict.
“As young people who have endured conflict in our respective countries and who are all too familiar with the toll it exacts on children’s emotional, social, physical, psychosocial and academic development, we are determined to help children whose fate has been similar to ours regain their confidence and their lives.
“Way too many children are witnessing the horrors of war: It is estimated that 1.5 billion children – two thirds of the world’s child population – live in the 42 countries affected by violent, high-intensity conflict between 2002 and 2006.
“Building on our own experiences, NYPAW seeks to speak up for the rights of all these children and to find concrete measures to prevent the use of children in war.
“We also hope to remind the world of how resilient children are, when given the right support. We are best-selling authors, renowned musicians, and youth advocates who hope to serve as role models to all those whose lives have been affected by violence.
“With guidance from United Nations, including UNICEF and the Office of the Secretary-General for Children and Armed Conflict, and with the assistance of War Child Holland and the Permanent Mission of Italy to the UN, NYPAW will use education and art – including writing, public speaking, poetry, music, painting, storytelling and theatre – to raise awareness to the plight of children living in conflict zones and provide them with the necessary support. “NYPAW will also serve as a conduit linking children caught in conflict with governments, international organizations, civil society and the media.
“As individuals, our strength has been our belief that we could overcome the traumas we have faced in times of war. But united as NYPAW, our strength is being able to communicate our experiences and to help affect change for the other children currently struggling in conflict countries and support the reconciliation process in countries emerging from war That is our hope. That is our mission.”

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In the Grand Scheme of Things

How can we really complain when we've got it so good? While it is true that I manage to find daily complaints, I am so completely thankful this holiday season. Thanksgiving is something of a cliche, but also a nice time to reflect on the many ways in which I have been blessed... For one, I have the safety and health of my child. That means more than all the left over turkey and cranberry sauce sandwiches in the world.

As I draw to a close on my Christmas shopping this year (and despite it feeling more like I should be preparing for the Fourth of July), I have tried to find meaningful gifts that will somehow make an impact or less of one... My initial inclination was to donate the money that I would have spent on everyone to a charity that I thought they would be happy to help. My first problem was that there are so many to choose from! How can I decide between a child in Haiti and a child in Darfur? Books or teddy bears? Vaccinations or food? And then there is the ever present, "should I be helping a child in another country or a child right here?". Books or teddy bears? Vaccinations or food? What about the environment? Protect a forest in another country or protect a forest right here? What about the animals? Domestic or endangered? Vaccinations or food?

Then another obstacle presented itself. While everyone on my list has been blessed in the same ways as I have, how do I really go about saying, "I really appreciate you so much that I gave someone else your gift?" I have an uncle that does just that, but he also lives in Australia. Plus, I like giving, not just the idea of giving. So I suppose I compromised by finding a website where your purchases go towards worthy causes: literacy, mammograms, food, animals, rainforests, and/or vaccinations. Plus the gifts that I chose are made through fair trade orgainzations throughout the world that help women especially. There were still some individuals on my list that didn't quite fit into the options that I found, so I'm going "green" for them... reusable shopping bags, herb gardens, trees. Which reminds me...I also found a website where you can purchase seeds from historical trees. Someone on my list is getting an Elvis Presley magnolia...

There is always the chance that I am being duped by these well wishing websites, but at least I feel like I'm doing something, even if it is just a meager contribution in the grand scheme of things... Josh and I have also decided that every year we'll set aside money for Ava to contribute to a charity of her choice, as we would like a side of compassion to accompany her intelligence. This year I think she'll be "adopting" a panda, as she has one that she adores, but I am open to other suggestions as well! I have made an annual habit of donating to St. Jude's and am adding a contribution to Yele Haiti this year, but it just never seems like enough...Following Hurricane Katrina I donated all of my tips for a Friday night to the Red Cross ($500!), as well as clothes, but I wonder if I even made a dent.

Meanwhile, I am still guilty of driving an SUV, watering my lawn enough to keep it green, and using disposable diapers, to name a few of my less than green offenses (would the opposite of being green be purple? Just a thought). And I still tend to look the other way when I see a bum on the freeway offramp (I have some opinions on that one)... So if, according to Dan Eldon, "the journey is the destination", is awareness a viable means of transportation?

Drunken Penguin

Although she looks like a cross between a drunken sailor and a penguin as she ambles along, Ava is officially walking! She does best when she is barefoot, carrying something (especially if it is a toy for one of the dogs), and/or trying to get one of the dogs to give her a kiss, but no one can stop her now! In other related "All Ava All The Time" News:

* She is descending stairs without trying to slide down face first, thanks to Monday afternoons spent with my mom, and she can pretty much feed herself with a spoon or fork, although the resulting mess is often reminiscent of Jackson Pollack.

*She pats her leg whenever she sees a dog or a cat and calls them "Tys". Everything else she has taken to calling "dada", including me (unless she is upset, then I get a drawn out, mournful "maaama").

*She loves giving kisses and has perfected her style from open mouth wet ones to fish faced loud ones.

*She likes music, Black Eyed Peas (or any fraction thereof) especially, and tries to snap her fingers when she dances. Who does that?! My mom. Think Earth, Wind, and Fire, 1978, Banning High. And just for the record, Barack and Michelle Obama dance like that too. So was it the "Ellen" segments or my mom's influence? Either way, she has also added a little bit of a butt shake to the mix (unless we are in the car, at which times she just puts an arm on her armrest, leans to one side and bobs her head, low rider style. I blame Josh for that one, as it is about the only way he can dance).

*She pretends to talk on the phone by resting the phone on her shoulder, she likes putting her "O" shaped toys on her wrist, she enjoys carrying purses, bags, or totes (she even opens the closet to get to them), and she tries to put on my shoes (and already has her favorite pairs). I'll take the blame on those ones...at least I don't snap when I dance, unless I am doing a weak Flamenco attempt.

Now if only we could get her to slow down long enough to sleep...

Bandwagon

If Amy's doing it, then I guess so I am I. Just another hasty decision on my part, I suppose... My goal is to see how much more of my time can be sucked up by this computer screen. That and I suppose that I have always liked the sound of my own voice, figuratively speaking. The truth is, despite majoring in creative writing, I hate to write. The burn of sit ups is preferable to agonizing over a single paragraph...only to erase it seconds after its completion. And at least sit ups give you something to show for the sweat (that is, if you have actually traded writing for sit ups). Writing=rejection letters posted on an apartment refrigerator. (And selling real estate is so much more secure and stable). So enough babbling...my baby is trying to eat my foot and my thought of the day is: "When is Sarah Palin going to get back to work? Enough speculation about her 2012 run or her gunning for a Senate seat. Alaska needs you more than we do! Or do they?" Blog officially started. Thank you Lynn for planting the seed. Thank you Amy for watering it. Ugh.