Remnants of My Past Life

My husband (Comate) and I have been married for over 20 years, and until about two years ago, we were involved in a Christian denomination that believed very strongly in a patriarchal view of marriage.  We learned after about 10 years that certain aspects of that did not jive with our personalities, but there were aspects of the view that we still tried to implement.  We wanted to be Biblical and obedient to God's word!  And we certainly did not want to be living a bad example of the gospel in front of the impressionable minds of our young offspring!

In a ideal world of patriarchy, Comate would have been the head of our household, lovingly leading me, and I would have been the submissive wife.  The practical outworking of that was that Comate held down a job while I stayed at home with the children.  For years, Comate managed our finances (even though he is NOT a math person, and I am), because if he didn't, he would not be in control of where the money was going and therefore not the head of our family.  We went through a period where I wore the frumpy jumpers and attempted to homeschool my children.  So much of this went very poorly.  It did not fit within our gifts and abilities, which one might argue were given to us by God, so why would he require us to do things that did not work within the framework of who he had designed us to be?

Our "epiphany" came about 10 years into our marriage when it hit us that much of this was not working for us, and that actually,  we almost always agreed on things, so why turn this into a power struggle?  Yet in order to be biblical, we would still have said that we were mostly equal, but if we ever were at an impasse, Comate, as my head, would get the final vote.  He still held the trump card.

It has been almost two years since we really walked away from this patriarchal view of marriage and life, but it was not a sudden change of our views.  It has been slow and gradual.  One domino fell, and rather than all of them toppling over suddenly, it is like watching the domino line in slow motion.  One slowly falls and tips the next one...and so it goes.  Questioning our church's treatment of women in general slowly lead to questioning the view of women within marriage, which lead to wondering about our church's view of homosexuality, which lead to....Well, you get the picture.

So imagine my surprise this morning when the following conversation ensued.  The scene was Comate looking in the fridge to decide what to have for dinner (because, throwing out traditional roles, he is doing much of our cooking while I am back in school.  LOVE IT!).  He found some chicken he had asked me to purchase, and although I am a vegetarian I bought it, because the rest of my family does not share my food preferences.  The chicken had a "purchase by" date of 5 days ago, so Comate pitched it into the garbage. I was annoyed because I had spent $10 on it, at his request, and it had been wasted. 

I angrily remarked, "I'm not buying chicken for you any more! That was a total waste!"

Comate, equally angrily commented back, "You'll buy chicken if I tell you to!"

I was livid, but also almost wanted to laugh.  Ah, old ways die hard.  YES my statement was rash, and it is highly unlikely that I will never again purchase meat at his request.  And Comate's anger back at me was not totally unjustified.  But when the going got tough and he felt like he was losing control, he pulled the old trump card.  A card we tore up and threw away several years ago, but that still exists, crumpled up somewhere in our back pockets.  It is the pattern we were taught was right and good and biblical, and it was the reactive "go-to" in an emotionally charged moment of anger.  And it struck me that in the middle of this mindset, the only thing in the above scenario that would seem out of place would be my statement that I would not buy chicken.  It would be unbiblical and ungodly of me to exert my will in that way.  The proper, loving, wifely response should have been to sweetly say, "Honey, I am bothered that the chicken went to waste."

No, what am I thinking....In a truly godly marriage, the chicken would never have gone to waste, because I would have cooked it, because after all, I am the woman, and it is my job (Proverbs 31 and all) to stay at home and cook and clean and change diapers!

We Can Provide Clean Water All Day, But if They Never Receive the Gospel....

Some of my dear friends are missionaries in a poor country.  They host short-term groups, particularly in the summer when youth groups are looking for a way to serve others and provide a learning experience outside of the normal comfort zone of American teenagers.  In the past ten or so years, many groups are seeking to provide clean water to people living in third world conditions. 

In the Bible, Jesus expresses that "the poor will always be with you," and although Mother Theresa took that to mean that we will ALWAYS have an obligation to help the poor, most people take it to mean that sometimes you just can't do enough because there are too many poor people, and you will NEVER solve all of their problems.  My friend seems to hold that view. 

She sees people come down, put in a water system, give trinkets to the lucky citizens who happen to be nearby at the time, and then go back to the comforts of home.  She expressed her frustration, saying, "We can provide clean water all day long, but if they never receive the gospel, they are still going to hell!"  My friend feels the importance of the afterlife.  Who cares about today's conditions when these people are not bound for heaven in eternity?  What is a little discomfort and dirty water in this life, compared with an eternity of thirst in the fires of hell?  Well, put like that, I'd rather be thirsty for a few or 50 more years and then be assured that I would never thirst again.  Give me the living water, and don't waste your time cleaning up my dirty well!

But what if we're wrong.  I mean, we can say all day that we have assurance of our salvation, but there's just no proof.  What if our religion is wrong?  What if this life is all we get?  And what if as a missionary, I have spent all of my time providing a message of an afterlife, but I have neglected to provide creature comforts to the only life these people will get? 

See, I'm starting to get the uncomfortable sense that athiests make much better "missionaries."  Without a hope of eternity, with a view that our 50, 70, 80 years is all we get, there's an urgency to help those in need!  It may never get any better than what they are experiencing right now!  How can we, as whatever religion we are, fail to help in any way possible?  How can we not provide medical assistance to those who are ill or injured?  How can we not send money to Aid organizations?  How can we not sponsor a child in a third world country, providing food, shelter, education, and hope of a better life?  When we stop assuming that these people need to have their theology just so in order to experience heaven, we can look at them as finite humans who need our help now!  And ultimately, we become better citizens, more caring and compassionate people, as a result.

Fearfully and Wonderfully Made? Or a Really Random Mix of Cells?

When my oldest son was born almost 20 years ago, we were shocked and grieved to learn that he had a chromosomal abnormality - Down syndrome.  After spending a few hours weeping and mourning, I was reminded of Psalm 139 and clung to the hope that my son was not a genetic accident as the geneticist had stated, but rather that he was lovingly designed by God with every piece of genetic material in his body, including that extra 21st chromosome.  That faith has brought me far in my acceptance of my son. 

For years, I imagined my son being the poster-child for the pro-life movement. I just knew that people would meet him and be moved to keep that baby they were considering aborting.  My son and our family and our faith were going to overcome and turn around that statistic that 90% of all pre-natal diagnoses of Down syndrome are aborted!  We had a purpose and a calling!  My son is articulate, outgoing, and he has a way of making people, who would otherwise shy away from the special needs population, find themselves feeling at ease and totally comfortable in a conversation with him. He is a whole lot more typical than he is different, and people recognize that and really gravitate toward his strengths as a person when they meet him.

And yet, he is different.  And life does not come easily to him.  I like to show the positive side of him, just like any mother, but let me also honestly assess life with an extra chromosome.  My son struggled to learn to walk and only mastered the skill at age 3.  He still cannot ride a 2-wheeled bike and probably never will, due to the instability in his core and in his hips.  He hears people use the term "retard" and "retarded" and knows that they are referring to people like him.  His speech, although usually understandable, is not totally clear, and he often has to repeat himself, even to me.  Sometimes he eventually gets frustrated and gives up, saying, "Nevermind," and stomping off.  He is smart enough to understand that when his friends graduated from high school, they went off to college, but he is still at home.  He knows that while he has lots of buddies at school, they don't think to naturally include him when they "hang out" after school or on weekends.  As a child, he was never spontaneously invited over for a play date.  He has watched one brother learn to drive, and knows that his next brother will learn soon, but knows that we do not believe that he is ready to learn that skill - and he may never be ready.  He might be able to live independently some day, but he will probably always require some supportive services or a kind of "house parent" to check on him and be sure he hasn't left a burner on or forgotten to lock his door.  So YES he is an encouragement to others, and YES I am thankful to be his mother, and YES I think he has amazing potential!!  But has life been easy for him??  No.

So as I am re-questioning everything I have believed in my adult life, I am rethinking my son and his extra chromosome.  What started as a question about the role of women in the Bible and therefore in church and home life has snowballed into questions about the Bible as a whole, and therefore about religion and even the origins of man.  Was my son created lovingly or is he a chance meeting of a certain sperm and a certain egg, one of which had sticky 21st chromosomes?  Is it loving to create a person who will always struggle physically and emotionally, knowing that there are so many things others can do that he cannot?  Is it loving to give him the limitations he has?  Or is there a higher power who set everything in motion, but then our bodies and the environment take over, and sometimes chromosomes just get sticky and produce a baby with extras, but nobody knows why?

For once in my adult life, I am not asking rhetorical questions, secretly knowing the answer.  I really don't know right now!  It doesn't make my son any less precious to me, and it doesn't make me love him any less.  Perhaps deep down it makes me respect God a bit more when I can look at my son and be sorry for the things he is not and cannot be, without having to sugar coat it as something Someone did to him on purpose.  Maybe it lets me appreciate my son as a fighter who has shown a strength that few people possess in overcoming obstacles and prejudices, when I can attribute his strengths to him and not refer them back to stuff God has done for him (after giving him the extra chromosome to make it harder in the first place).  And maybe I will come back around, full circle, and once again be saying thanks to a loving God for intentionally creating my son with an extra chromosome for His (God's) glory.  It could happen.....But for now, I am openly questioning the reasons behind extra chromosomes and messed-up genetic material and childbirths gone wrong, without any secret motive or hidden agenda or smug answers up my sleeve or in chapter 32 of book XYZ of the Bible.

Hello, Alexandre Bilodeau, I Think I Love You!

Alexandre Bilodeau has obviously been in the media a lot since his huge win - the first Canadian gold ever on home territory.  His name is sure to forever be a household name in his home country.

But more striking to me than his gold medal is the fact that every single interview of him shows him speaking of his older brother, Frederic.  Frederic has Cerebral Palsy, and his parents were told that he would not be able to walk after the age of 10.  And yet walk, he does.  And he skis.  And Alexandre names Frederic as his inspiration.  When asked what his gold medal will mean to his brother Frederic, Alexandre said, “A lot. It’s really getting me right now. My brother is my inspiration. Growing up with handicapped people puts everything back in perspective and he taught me so many things in life. My parents did, too.”

I have a son with special needs.  Over the course of his life, I have heard so many people express fear that raising a child with a handicap will be a negative experience for the other children in the family. It is one of the reasons often given for choosing to abort a fetus with a known disability. "It wouldn't be fair to my other children," people will say.

I would argue that it would not be fair to deprive your children of the opportunity to experience life with a sibling who is different.  Who has to fight for everything he achieves.  Who appreciates the simple things in life.  Who is not interested in keeping up with the Joneses, who does not notice acne or disheveled clothing, who does not care if you drive a Porsche or a Kia.  (Well, okay, my son would be pretty impressed with a Porsche, but hopefully you get my point!)

Growing up with a brother with Cerebral Palsy has obviously helped shape Alexandre Bilodeau's life in a positive way, just as I believe that growing up with a brother with Down syndrome has shaped my children.  I am sure it hasn't always been easy for Alexandre or for his parents to have a brother/child with CP, and yet the positive outweighs the challenges. 

I cannot speak completely for my own children, but I believe I see a compassion in them that would not be there, were it not for their brother.  They gravitate toward the downtrodden, the lonely, and befriend them.  They seek out the fellow students with disabilities and work to make school a welcoming place for them. No matter where they go in life or what career path they choose, I believe that they will always be compassionate people who have their radar up for those who need a little extra help in life.

Clearly Alexandre is a compassionate young man as well, and I look forward to learning more about him as a person in the coming weeks, as I am sure we will.

Weed, Wine, and Wisdom

I had the privilege of attending a Michelle Malone concert the other night.  She introduced her song "Weed and Wine", reminiscing about her youth and how she would go back and change the person she was, if she could.  I thought back to my youth...my twenties...my thirties.  Oh how much I would change, but for different reasons than Michelle.

Most people want to go back and erase their wild days.  Remove the partying.  Undo the drugs and alcohol and illicit sex.  Things like that.  I want to remove the coals I mentally heaped upon the heads of those who did those things. I want to take back the words of hatred I thought, more than uttered, toward those who chose an alternate lifestyle: the pot-heads, the "permissive" parents, the non-church-goers, the partiers, the left-wing Democrats, the same-sex couples.  I judged them all, and then some.

The more I walked through my conservative Christian life, the smaller heaven became.  Fewer and fewer people measured up to the gospel according to Me.

Until....

Until my own family no longer measured up to my own standards.  Until my family no longer measured up to the standards of those who surrounded me in my little bubble of existence. Life was warm and cozy on the inside, but when I found myself being moved further and further toward the outside of the conservative Christian circle, away from the image of a perfect family and a perfect life, I realized that life on the inside was exhausting! I had been living in fear - trying to keep up a perfect image, and it had worn me out.

So I walked away.

I didn't leave my husband or my five precious children.  They are my greatest joy, my biggest cheerleaders, and my reason for getting up in the morning!

But I did leave my church, my denomination, an undetermined number of my religious beliefs, and as a result, many of my friends. A whole lot of people think I have lost my mind.  I'm sure many are worried about me and praying for my soul and for my salvation.  And a handful think I am finally showing some sense.

Although many in my former religious community would think my decision to leave that behind is very unwise, I think I am learning the real meaning of wisdom.  Wikipedia (okay, not the best source, but I like how it is worded) says of wisdom: Wisdom is a deep understanding of people, things, events or situations, empowering the ability to choose or act to consistently produce the optimum results with a minimum of time and energy.  And that's it for me - I am gaining an understanding of people that looks very different from the fear and suspicion and judgment with which I have always regarded those on the "outside" of my faith.

I have no idea where this journey will lead me in terms of my religious beliefs.I am still reading, thinking, pondering, and working it all out.  Who will join me in my journey?