America the Beautiful

           We all get forgotten at some point. Like me, for instance, I was forgotten on a family vacation at a gas station in Mexico. Not really a "Meagan Sure Is Special" moment, but, hey, it happens to everyone and we can all move on.  

            It seems like America has got to be forgetting something. She's been through a lot lately. The financial crisis, the housing market crash, the bail outs, the unemployment, the seemingly constant, and painful shootings and bombings.  

            I feel like asking her, "Beautiful America, with spacious skies, and amber waves of grain, oh, beautiful, beautiful America, with purple mountain majesties above your fruited plain, what are you forgetting?"

            But as poetic and dramatic and fuzzy as that question feels, it's not productive. So I wonder, what are we, as Americans, forgetting? (I don't think it's God, yet. Whether people are for or against God, He gets brought up all the time.)

            As a professional American, I feel confident I can name two things that Americans must be forgetting: Wisdom and Innocence.  The recession, the housing market crash, bail outs, fiscal cliffs, unemployment, "Americans! Where's our wisdom?" Devastating shootings, shocking bombings, "Americans! Where did our innocence go?"

            Maybe the answer to those questions is that we, as Americans, are forgetting our Wise and Innocent.

                                   

                                    Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon."

                                    Said the little old man, "I do that too."
                                    The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants."
                                    "I do that too," laughed the little old man.
                                    Said the little boy, "I often cry."
                                    The old man nodded, "So do I."
                                    "But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems
                                    Grown-ups don't pay attention to me."
                                    And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
                                    "I know what you mean," said the little old man.
                                                                                        -Shel Silverstein

           

            Are we, American Grown-ups, spending too much time with ourselves and spending too little time, or even forgetting to spend time, with our Wise and Innocent? Are these easy-to-forget people stashed away somewhere "safe," while we go on about our more exciting lives? Because the reality is, American Grown-ups are running the show we call America, and if America is having problems, then it's the Grown-up Americans that need to do some introspect.

            Where's our wisdom? Well, are the Elderly in our lives? Little old men and little old women are our superior in time and experience; wrapped in some loveable nuttiness, they are living wisdom. Are American Grown-ups spending time with them, in order to hear their wiseness, and see their wise, wrinkled faces?

            Where's our innocence? Well, are there children in our lives? Little boys and little girls are the absolute essence of innocence. Are American Grown-ups spending time with children, in order to hear their innocent laughter and see their innocent eyes?

            If America needs more wisdom and innocence, then the ones running America (all Grown-ups, we live in a democracy here) should start paying more attention to the Wise and Innocent of our nation.

            My friend Jan and her family are from Thailand and they have a rich culture that still lives with their family here on American soil. One beautiful aspect about her culture is the respect given to elders. When a younger person walks past an older person, the younger must duck their head to be lower than the elder. When sitting, the younger person's feet must not point in the elder's direction. At the beginning of every conversation there is a word spoken by the younger person to the elder person in order to signify them as their elder. This respect acknowledges to the younger generation that their elder is superior, and the elder deserves it! Their time and experience on this earth gives them knowledge and wisdom a younger person doesn't have.

            Dick Van Dike showed everyone in Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang that a society is unbalanced and awful without children, and that there is nothing scarier than a Child Catcher.  Children remind us what a heart is capable of doing. They free and release us  from our self-inflicted complicated world, and remind us what it's supposed to be like.   

            Our little old men and little old women, our little boys and little girls need us, and we-need-them. Remembering each other and learning from each other will improve our individual lives, and then our nation. The good life includes Grown-ups, little old people, and little children. We're all a part of life, and we're all a part of making America beautiful.

Since the beginning of Time

            A Believer can get a pretty bad rap sometimes. But, eh, it's all good. I, personally, didn't join the group hoping for the Most Popular Vote. There can be a lot of name-calling. But, for the most part, I can understand where it's coming from.

            Crazy and Weirdo, meh, I hear it all the time. It's cool, I can take it because the fact is anyone who doesn't act, live, or believe like the next guy is "a crazy" or "a weirdo." No harm done.

            Even the derogatory name-calling I can come to terms with because it's just a more "adult," more "evolved" version of kids on the playground. I could take it then, I can take it now.

            Most snide comments directed towards Believers I can pretty much live with, but there's one that's never made sense to me. Blind Obedience. Now I know, this is some standard name-calling. This one's heard as often as "Weirdo" and "Crazy." And I'm pretty certain that both parties, Name-caller and Believer, have embraced this one as acceptable. But it just doesn't make any sense! Walk with me to the produce aisle, and don't worry, I have some alternatives so it's not a total loss.

            Blind Obedience sounds like I've covered my eyes and am playing some kind of Marc-O-Polo game.

            "Exactly!" hollers the guy in the back, hi-fiving his buddies. Yah, yah, hear me out.

            So in this Blind-O-Bedience game I cover my eyes and somebody, somewhere calls out a rule and I stumble around, tripping trying to obey it....?

            Name-callers, give me some credit! When I hear a rule, I don't close my eyes and try to avoid the wall. I hear jump and I jump. I hear sit and I sit. The only deviance is my own decision to say, "Nah, that's not for me."

            Call me "Follower" if you want, cuz I most certainly am following. Or if someone wants to say, "Obeying too much, BOOOOO!" I get it, Obey, that's what I do.

            But Blind? That's suggesting I gave up one of my 5 senses while obeying. Nah. I'm most definitely using all my senses in order to do everything I'm told.

            Call it "Brainless Obedience." That makes a little more sense. Because, you see, we have this Trump Card called Spirit. So when our Spirit Trump Card looks like Brainless Obedience, I can see that. But there's a pretty sweet exchange when using this Spirit Trump Card. If we use it we have access to a higher power. Now, don't be jealous, name-callers, because it's pretty much like a Jedi Knight using The Force. So it's pretty worth it.  

            Anyways, I signed up for a belief that doesn't give up senses, it offers another sense. I'm like M. Night Shyamalan's boy from Sixth Sense.

            Moving mountains with enough faith? That sounds like Jedi training.

            Having the Holy Spirit to discern and protect? That's Shyamalan style.      

            Blind folds didn't come at the baptism. No, no, try "The Force-slash-Sixth Sense."

            So take me to the crazy house, yell "Brainless Obedience" like you mean it, sing "Boo Obeying,"  taunt "Follower" at me with your tongue sticking out, because Blind Obedience just isn't doin' it for me anymore.

            Lets see some intelligent bullying on this evolved, adult playground, come on people.

           Or not.  

A Mother's Value

          Recently I read a post from someone that was sticking up for women. In sticking up for women they called the decisions to be a mother and to stay at home with their children: Inferior.

          Inferior to what, I thought. A googolplex of things according to this person is my guess, but then why? 
          Why is it Inferior to be a mother?
          Why is it Inferior for a mother to stay at home with her children?
          Where did the value in these decisions go?
          Why is it Inferior to stay at home with the little humans I created? The little children I brought into this world? And help build them into confident, kind, and civil adults?
        
          When I really think about it, I feel like I kinda owe it to them a little. And, actually, society. I decided to bring them here, so it should be my responsibility to teach them how to be an empowered, independent human being that is fit for society.  

            So where did the value go, I wondered. I don't really know. But what I do know is this: 

            There is value in the decision a woman makes to forego her own interests and have a child.

            There is value in the decision to stay at home with the tiny soul she brought into this world. After all, they don't know a thing about the good, the bad, or the ugly of this crowded earth.

            Sure, the job description doesn't always look enticing. I literally get poop on my hands every day. I pick boogers out of little boys noses with my bare fingers. I catch vomit in my hand (and proud of it) in order to keep it off the carpet. I have multiple bed wetter's that make their room smell of perma-urine. The rest of my house smells of dirty children, and dirty dishes most of the time. If the table isn't sticky it's the chairs, or floor, or wall, or door, or door handle. It's too loud most of the time, and can get pretty chaotic, but it's what I call sacrifice.

            I "go through it all" so that I can be the one that plays peek-a-boo with my 8 mth old in order to hear him giggle and smile at me, and be the first one to discover his 2 teeth that are coming in. I "go through it all" so that I can be the one to have my 2 year old hold my finger with one hand and hold his sword (stick) with the other hand, defending us from bad guys as we walk. I "go through it all" so that I can be the one to hear my little 4 yr old boy tell me on a daily basis how pretty I am, and how beautiful my dress is, and how pretty my hair is. I "go through it all" so that I can be the one that can go to my daughters kindergarten assemblies whenever she gets awards. 

            There's value in being a mother because she values her child.

            There's value in a mother deciding to stay at home with her children because their-childhood-is-valuable.

     
           It's in those early years of development where the making and the molding of a person takes place. The value and the time expressed and given to a child helps determine a lot about the person they are going to be.

            Becoming a mother, to teach tiny souls and show them what it is to be loved and cared for, is not Inferior at all. I'm talking from the produce section where it's fresh and where it's true. I'm a mom and I've tried it, there is so much value here.

            I didn't always think this way though. When I first became a mom I took some canned, mushy version of this truth from some faceless person. The soupy version of the truth that I was believing was that there was nothing more inferior or crappier than staying at home with crying babies. And that a woman loses her identity to changing diapers, being in the kitchen, and scrubbing toilets.

            After time, though, I started to realize it was a mushy version of the truth. Sure, being a mom is hard, it can feel crappy, there's no pay check EVER, but the sacrifices are worth it. The fresh, bright-green truth is that the hard work pales in comparison to the fulfillment and satisfaction a mother gets from watching the growth of a little round-faced, bright-eyed child. It pales in comparison when a child looks at you like no one will ever take your place. It pales in comparison when a child hugs and kisses and loves you no matter what happened 5 minutes ago because you are all that matters to them.

             The reality of this crisp truth came to me during my kids bath time. They were filthy, the water was getting brown from their stinky bodies, and the soap was starting to be dirtier than clean. It was gross. Then I called out, "Feet," and watched little feet pop out of the water mid-play. Cringing when the brown water splashed on me, I started lathering each foot with soapy bubbles. A story popped into my head that has helped me never forget this moment. It was the story of the Savior washing His disciples feet.

            Jesus poured water into a basin, washed grown men's feet, and wiped them dry "with the towel wherwith he was girded" (John 13:5). The disciples were unwilling to let Jesus wash their feet at first, but then Jesus taught them why He was doing it. He taught them this: "Ye call me Master and Lord: and ye say well; for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet; ye also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example, that ye should do as I have done to you" (John 13:13-15).

            I was washing the feet of my children. I was following Christ's example. I was doing for my children what He taught His disciples, and ultimately everyone, to do. My decision to have and take care of children was not Inferior, it was exactly what the Savior needed me to do for the children He loves so dearly.

            "Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven," (Matthew 19:14) are the words He spoke to His disciples declaring that children are important.

            "Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven," (Matthew 18:3) are the words He spoke to declare a lasting decree that children are important.

            There is value in being a mother.

            There is value in deciding to stay at home and care for our little ones.

           

Green Beans

          Did you know that green beans are crunchy? I didn't. Did you know that they're firm and long and bright green and fresh for you in the produce section? I had no idea. My whole life I was eating squishy, soggy, midget, puke green "green beans" like a moron, thinking, "And that, is a green bean."

         
          Then the day came (and to be frank, not very long ago, like 8 months ago) when I ate a spoonful of casserole filled with chicken, cheese, some goods, and a crunchy-wonderful something.
             
          I asked the beautiful chef that plopped it onto my plate, "What is this delicious ingredient?!"
         
          Bewildered, it seemed, she hesitantly replied (slash asked), "Green beans?" As if that couldn't possibly be what I was inquiring about, and yet, I was.
         
          A magical green bean, I thought at first. But not wanting to look the fool, again, I put on my, "Ah yes, of course," face and nonchalantly tried to strangle out of her "WHERE?! Where did you get these magical green beans?!"
        
           "My garden," I eventually got out of her without looking suspicious.

            "Ah yes, the garden, of course. Where all magic- I mean marvelous- green beans come from," I discussed sophisticatedly.

            But inside I was crushed, for I had no garden to grow magic green beans for myself. Nonetheless, I carried on with great poise for the remainder of our light conversation, despite the blow that I would never taste such a delicious green bean again. I was doomed to eating the sorry, mushy, crappy kind.

            And then, not more than 3 weeks later, I discovered them in all their longness, and freshness, and crunchiness right in the produce section at my local grocery store. I would have never thought they'd be available to me, and yet they were there the whole time.

            It felt so good to know I could count on them. There in the produce section, waiting for me when I needed them in all their brightly green goodness. It felt good. Just as it feels good to learn the truth about anything. Whether it's because you're a dunce or being duped, truth tastes sweet to the had tongue.

            Well I'm done with canned green beans now. No more soupy, canned versions of truth either. No more disillusions coming from the canned vegetable aisles. It's time to get our goods from the garden (or produce section, that's okay right?). It's time to discuss the truth about things, the truth about ALL them green bean things.

            First on the list. . .