Spare the Rod!

This weekend was a difficult one for our family. Friday night and most of Saturday, my daughter had a severe case of constipation. She had been constipated a few weeks ago and developed some painful after effects from straining to go. With the pain where it was, any movement (even breathing) could cause the muscle to spasm and result in pain so severe that I could feel my small child, my little girl, begging for mercy. Over and over she asked, "Why is this happening to me?".  After an E.R. visit and a subsequent appointment with her pediatrician, we were given instructions so we could help her have a bowel movement. On the parenting front, we tried negotiations, treat bribes and even borderline threats. She fought it. Though we promised her the pain would be less if she could let it happen, she could only deal with the pain as it came and was not able to see past it.

Both the ER and the office visit included probing, as to view the area. Despite gently talking her through how this would happen, in both instances restraining was necessary. Fierce cries accompanied each exam; cries for survival from her perspective. We did everything we knew how. It really was in this five-year-old's hands to conquer her fear and find relief. It felt tempting at times to scold her for not doing what she needed to do. Prayer and contemplation brought us back to what we knew for sure: our daughter was suffering and she needed us to be the light at the end of the tunnel. These toileting issues could really scar her and we needed to avoid that. After complete surrender and all of us collapsing in bed, she woke in the middle of the night and pooped, gathering us to admire her progress and drawing praise for her accomplishment. Things were smooth from there. She played like she was seeing sunshine for the first time. We relaxed and enjoyed her.

I share this situation, a slice of our family life, to demonstrate the complexities of parenting. I'm not telling any of you parents anything you don't already know. It's a hard job. We all love our children and we all (at every moment) do the best we can with what we have. Our girl is still just a baby. We haven't even gotten to the teen years yet. We don't have the experience and the years of parenting that many do. But I discourage passing judgment from whatever piece of earth you have to look down from. While there are some real specific, obvious places to show tenderness in our example, tenderness is something children can never get too much of. It may be a harsh world we are sending our children out into but that does not always justify the harshness with which we parent, especially hoping to hurry the results of our discourse on life to our children.

My wife and I have an agreement that we will not spank, slap, hit or resort to any violent acts as a way of disciplining our daughter. To observers in the grocery store, I'm sure we sometimes look like very permissive parents. To some extent, this is true. Often a behavior will be permitted until we are in a good place to deal with a disciplinary act, if one is deemed necessary. If the behavior is a negative one toward another person (child or adult), we will remind her about how she needs to treat the other person and prompt her to apologize. We did not feel it was necessary to discipline her for her screams of terror in the doctor's office, nor did she (or we) apologize.

Our most frequent mode of discipline is revoking privileges. This is much more effective now that she is five and has a clear memory of previous occasions when things have been taken away. When she was younger, we had to be creative and figure out ways to illustrate right from wrong in a more immediate fashion. Time Out was more effective than we thought it would be. It only took two or three times for her to understand she had to stay in the room and after that the door was only opened when we determined enough time had passed to make the impact we were aiming for. Not all of our efforts succeed. I may be wrong, but I don't believe corporal punishment is full-proof either.

In my opinion, the hardest line to draw as parents is the line between respect and fear. When I raise my voice, my daughter fears me (mostly because I don't do it often). I try to choose carefully when to take that tool out of the box. I also try to evaluate the reason I come down on her. Is it about me or about her? Am I tired and easily frustrated because of other stressors in my life? Is her behavior a reaction to something that is really unfair; possibly something she perceives as unjust? The majority of situations that require discipline seem to be about safety or protection. These things deserve an explanation, especially if my reaction is sudden and physical. Pulling her out of the way when a car is coming is clearly protection. Refusing an excess of sweets is about protecting her teeth and her blood sugar, not just because I'm mean. She needs to know that, even if I have said it before. I can count on my fingers the times that I have said to her, "Because I said so!" Respect needs to be mutual. The parent-child rule book (to me) is not written completely by the parent. My opposition to corporal punishment is that I feel my daughter is a person; shorter than me, yes (for now) but clearly a human being created in God's image.

I have long been committed to non-violence and I have made my relationship with my little girl part of that commitment. I don't see a distinction between hitting my daughter when I want to make a point and hitting my wife when she doesn't see things my way. I know a lot of people feel differently about how to deal with a child's challenging behaviors. I try to offer a hand if I see someone else struggling. I enjoy making faces at the child in the grocery cart in front of me. Occasionally, I smile at a parent and tell them that I share their distress. I will say something positive that I have observed about their child; something they may even be able to take some credit for (i.e. "I love her nails. Did you do them?") I'll say it again; parenting is hard. Us parents know that. It's a heck of a good reason for us to support each other. I am part of a few groups of families that do things together on a regular basis. We know each others' children and we are familiar with each others' parenting styles. We give each other plenty of support. The African proverb rings true- It takes a village to raise a child.

 

I want to give some honorable mentions here: To my Mothers and the rest of my family(s) in the Midwest, thank you for casting the cloud of your love over many miles and cleansing our daughter with your hope and purity. To Vale's Abuela and those families and friends in Mexico, Muchas gracias por amar a Valeria tan profundamente y dándole una segunda casa. To my in-law families who take part in raising Valeria every day, thanks for all of the unselfish acts that fall like raindrops on our girl, contributing to her growth and flowering confidence- you rock! To our Re-evaluation Counseling, Meeting Ground, Deep Roots and Catholic Worker friends, we are on a long journey together and it is a pleasure to travel with all of you who have such a deep commitment to a world where children are welcomed and valued. To my other-brother- from-a-different-mother (Todd), thank you for all of the times that you stopped to hold Vale' in your bubble of love, especially when I was on a break and didn't have my fun cap on- you are deep in her heart (and mine too) for forever. Finally, to my Dad who loved to wrestle on the living room floor, I hold Valeria up to you and ask that you breathe the breath of heaven into the wind that blows our way.

 

Swiss Army Phone!

I am having a 3:00 a.m. moment of clarity. Yesterday, I couldn't find a screwdriver for a project I was working on. I resorted to pulling a (Swiss Army-like) knife out of the kitchen drawer. It did the job and I admired my Macgyver/Tool Man Tim success. A smart phone is a modern-day Swiss Army knife! I can map a trip, whip out a flashlight, see the weather forecast, pull up recipes, utilize a magnifier, get the Sunday golf results and (oh yeah) make a phone call all from my living room chair holding a light as air, rectangular, glossy, metallic looking device. That's just a glimpse into what I can do on my phone. I didn't mention the entertainment value. The word "value" may be disputed by some (even me in a former life). All in moderation. I find my phone is something my daughter and I play with together. She gets to feel important navigating through the menus and choosing things she is familiar with (often educational). Pictures are fun to share and receive. Music sparks memories of yester year and has me doing Karaoke in strange places.

I don't want a planet where personalism is lost. I really don't! I have a friend who I am working with on a world-changing project. She is a very grounded person. Despite the speed at which her life moves (with teenagers, work and a myriad of responsibilities), she manages to keep things in perspective and strive for a mindful existence. We text each other almost every day. We are essentially journaling back and forth. We edit our thoughts to the degree that we try to be thoughtful of people we struggle to understand. We also avoid giving any details about our personal relationships. We build each other up at every turn and I think I can speak for her in saying that we both feel honored to be witnesses to a life well-lived.

I love to write. I always have. I may be doing too much writing and not enough living. That is possible. But what seems far more likely (for me- I can only speak for me) is that I am constantly nurturing this curious animal that wriggles about in my brain. Much of the thinking I do takes form in my smart phone; eating lunch, waiting in line, during commercials, etc. I have also reignited the flame of reading in my life. I bought a book :) and I am reading a beautiful blog about living and loving while experiencing pain.

Finally, I feel the exchange of information is invaluable. Is it always necessary and do we get caught up in learning information we don't need to know? Of course. There are pitfalls, obviously. When we take on technology, we are responsible for doing so with the good of human kind in mind. There needs to be an ongoing discussion on where the scale gets tipped too far and technology replaces the vital connections we have with other humans. But, I am encouraged by the use of media and technology in movements that are creating change today. Now THAT's a knife!

 

Zombie War (This is not an advertisement for a video game!)

Headlines are crashing down, day after day now. Parents mourn their child even more as his last words are argued over and his last steps are challenged. I'm sorry, but what kind of fucking justice system allows this to happen?! I'm not questioning the motives of George Zimmerman. He felt justified in the actions he took that night; this is clear. I am questioning why his mindset is acceptable, even when supposedly scrutinized.

I am puzzled by what others view as security. I go back to this constantly. We televise and absorb a man walking a rope over the Grand Canyon, somehow viewing this risk as a worthy one. Yet, we fail to extend ourselves to other human beings for fear that they might be dangerous. We put up fences to halt the threat of invaders eating our food and seeking healing in our hospitals while we go to church and smile (across the aisle) at someone we can't imagine having lunch with. We reward the petty conflicts that keep us from each other and call this "reality (TV)"! How far are we from a Jesus who stopped at nothing to show love to strangers?

Trayvon Martin will ever be remembered for his hoodie; for covering his head in a rain storm. With his right to bare arms intact, Zimmerman tracked him and ultimately murdered him. Zimmerman may have felt his life was in danger. If we are going to deal in perceptions though, next time it will be acceptable for someone to take a pot shot from a car- to take out the hoodied intruder before he does any harm. Beyond that, our neighborhood watchers will be allowed to fire at will while standing their ground from a balcony outside their back door. Bring on the Zombie War! In essence, Trayvon was dead to Zimmerman before the gun went off; a virtual zombie.

Still Begging!

This is a follow-up to a previous blog addressing gun violence. The hamster in my brain kept running and I felt it necessary to cover another corner of this discussion.


We, all of us, are living a myth; a myth perpetuated in each breath we take toward that one last breath. So we frame our fears on the mantle of security, seeking immortality. Security runs the same cycle as the chicken and the egg and justice is even more elusive. I am talking about self-defense; about playgrounds and punching and Call of Duty and deployment and courtrooms and departments and covert strikes and overt desperation. I am talking about fists and feet and billy clubs and knives...and yes, I am talking about guns. No battle can be won. We live in a country steeped in the tradition and the mystery of faith, yet we have so little. There is one immeasurable line walking away from the few willing to take a leap of faith.

Do I believe in the preservation of human life? I do and I love life and I love the human race and the opportunity to give and receive love each day. What I don't believe in are good guys and bad guys. We have witnessed evolution; taking on racism, sexism and homophobia. Disabilities are less disdained and we may, after enduring mass murder after mass murder, scratch the surface of mental illness. Once we do, once we get there, we will find our beloved brothers and sisters opening their arms instead of opening fire. Then there will be no Cowboys and Indians. Utopia? Perhaps. But we will never get anywhere climbing the stockpile of guns that are scattered about our great land. Starting now, somewhere in the discussion, we must consider the only answer that feasibly confronts a culture of dualism- unilateral love. Heaven lies behind that dimly-lit door.

We spend a lot of time and money on protection. I'm not saying it is foolish to lock doors, but I think we have to take a long look at how we can, more effectively, "love thy neighbor". In the process, we will redefine neighbors and shrink the world around us. So many bonds are formed when fears are hurdled. Lives are saved and love grows. Love your neighbor. I beg of you!

I beg of you!

Growing up in Waterloo, IA, it was part of my childhood and my young adult life to attend many events in the UNI-dome. While I saw a few concerts in the dome, I mostly attended sporting events. Large crowds cheered for the home team. Voices echoed through the vast stadium. My mother worked in the dome. She was Secretary to the Athletic Director. It was there I found her after calling to tell her my good friend and former roommate had been murdered; shot down while out for a walk with his fiance. Mom left her work that morning and took me out into the seats of the dome.

There was no cheering. For the most part, my tears were silent. I was sad, angry and confused and I couldn't find a reference point for my pain. It was like the first time I had the wind knocked out of me or my first bee sting, but worse. I told my mom that I thought I should go on a hunger strike until somebody did something about guns being so accessible. Her answer was poignant and compassionate. I have a short memory for many things, but I think I have this one right. She said I should do what I felt I needed to do, but that she wanted me to know that she believed God was angry too.

I made a little noise and wrote a letter to the editor, hoping to calm some of the racist reactions to this tragedy. We planted a tree for Jeff in the park near where he had grown up. I may have believed that, as we threw dirt over the roots of that tree, we were burying this sin; this senseless misguided, evil thing that had happened. We were burying it so it would never be seen again. If only that were the case.

A few years later, my same-age cousin was murdered. She was managing a restaurant while a man walked in and shot her and a co-worker in cold blood, as they say. That gun was designed for elephant hunting! Cara was my mother's Godchild. My mom and my aunt composed a petition to get people to act on the sick reality that guns and ammunition were being sold just feet away from children's toys and lipstick.

I was influenced by these losses. My innocence was gone and I tried to reclaim it by doing good for others. I moved into a Catholic Worker house and was part of a live-in group that provided shelter and meals to people who were down on their luck. Shortly after one of our live-in staff moved out, he was shot and killed while working at the laundromat a few blocks from our house. Again, a tree was planted. It grew in our front yard as a sign of Derek's life and spirit. It was all there was for Derek's parents when they arrived from Poland, looking for a remnant of their slain child.

So, I am a victim of gun violence. I don't claim that often. I don't feel victimized in an oppressive sort of way. But lives were taken. Relationships were lost. Connections were disconnected. Hearts, including mine, were broken.

Massacre is a word that is hard to fathom. I don't know this experience with the intimacy of simple murder. It's a matter of numbers, I suppose. But it seems even more senseless and I feel some sort of exponential grief as I am restimulated by these events. And then....children. For weeks I noticed folks only discussed this recent tragedy for moments at a time. It was gruesome enough to envelop us all and close enough that we could not put our collective outrage into words.

There is a heated debate brewing and I know some feel that their rights or even a way of life is being threatened. I can only analogize this in terms familiar to me. I am an avid golfer (I am referring to frequency and not quality). My favorite club is my driver. But, if hundreds of thousands of people were being murdered with drivers, I would gladly sacrifice that club from my bag. I would melt it down, immediately! The hole in this analogy is that you can run from a golf club. Even if unexpected and someone is clubbed from behind, a room full of people would have time to escape and a few people could rally and detain the mad golfer. Please don't propose that someone can do the same damage with a kitchen knife as they can with a semi-automatic weapon. This is absurd!

Another part of the debate concerns mental illness. Via my career and the work that I continue to do with the homeless community, I have known many people who live with mental illness. There are some I most certainly would not want owning or possessing a gun. But, be sure of this. There are many more people that pass us in the mall and on the road that we travel each day who go undiagnosed. Many are pent up or clad with anger, sadness and total defeat- folks we will never know are feeling that way. While we can make headway through the throngs of persons receiving medication and other forms of treatment, those who are most lost have either abandoned a path toward recovery or have never been identified. I submit that no sane person can take the life of another. It is a noble area to explore and I'm sure we will have a better society if resources are maximized and the larger community can understand the signs and symptoms of mental illness. However, this is a multi-tiered challenge and clearly not a hefty solution to gun violence. I see no logical solution to gun violence that does not eliminate the gun from the violence.

For weeks, I have been unable to write about this. I get stuck because I can't think of a way to sufficiently influence people with a radical view on this subject. I'm sure many would see my view as radical. There is a middle ground. I will not be satisfied with banning only assault weapons. My friends and my cousin were killed with far fewer bullets. But I will feel like progress is made if we can start with assault weapons. There has to be movement from those who will feel naked without their AK-47s. We don't have time to wait for a discussion on this. Someone filled with rage- misguided on how to express it, someone who cannot connect with other human beings in a way that will lead to them feeling loved, someone is going to do this AGAIN. Please join me in trying to stop it. Please let your representatives know how you feel. Please, I beg of you, ACT!

An election has ended. We move on with our lives and do what we need to do. We stand up for what we believe in--whatever that may be. I will remember this election; not for all of the sarcasm and snyping leading up to it, but for the importance of it. My beliefs were challenged and even entwined a bit among the platforms that appeared to emerge from the presidential campaigns. I consider myself a pro-life, family values, patriotic LIBERAL. There's not really a place for me in a two-party system, but I attach myself to the candidate who seems to represent my ideals. I want a candidate who knows charity is not an obligation but a fulfilling way of life.

The voting booth was empty when I entered the school building. The building was empty, for that matter. I paused in the corridor as I leaned over the water fountain. I had found a place to pray. Thoughts swirled through my head, but that happens all the time. Prayer came about because I was focused and the moment was meaningful. I prayed for peace. It is my most constant prayer: peace in my family, peace in my body, peace in the world. I thought of my daughter and my nieces and nephews and the country I want them to inherit. I prayed I could be helpful and I could find others (regardless of party affiliation) that will have their best interests at heart.

The actual voting process was solemn. I approached it like lighting a candle at church. No one offered me an "I voted" sticker and that seemed strangely appropriate as I didn't feel the need for a prize or a banner. I drove home relieved I didn't have to wait in line and hopeful that those who did would be that much more determined to vote with their hearts.


 I stayed up to hear the election results, but couldn't hang on long enough for the speeches. I was satisfied the candidate I voted for was elected, but I didn't feel the need to celebrate. Again, I was closer to prayer. "Just give folks a chance" I thought. "Can we be loving and merciful with one another?" I pleaded. Since a voice did not thunder back at me, I resigned myself to the work ahead. I was thankful for my family and the communities I have found, spawned from my family experience. I owned that love and fellowship and let it be my pillow.

Something of Substance

It is a few hours before the second presidential debate. I am decided, but not impressed. I heard what Obama said in the first campaign. I read what he wrote. As he feathered hope in our caps for what WE could do, he emerged as the one who could lead us. It was a tall order. If there is failure, we failed too. All of us. We failed to courageously confront injustice at every opportunity. I failed. I didn't always speak up and I didn't push forward in my community at times when I could have.

In politics, parties prevailed (which is always ugly.) As Lincoln said, "A house divided against itself cannot stand." Our president took many opportunities to lead and made some wise and courageous decisions. He also made some weak and ineffective decisions (apparently trying too hard to please.)Too many times, he surrendered where he might have fought for the poor, the marginalized and for the world. The last debate simply magnified where he has fallen short. We need him to stand up tonight. We need him to be our president. Pliable statistics will not do! We need to hear about hope and opportunity and our successes. We need to hear about this world where people are recognizing their worth and claiming their space. We need something of substance!


 And after he exits the room tonight (if we believe him), then we need to follow him. Not just to the voting booth, but to the mountain! We need to take on what is ours to carry. We cannot wait to hear about the bills we want to pass. We need to find the front lines and stand there in solidarity. Steps have been taken: to challenge the military-industrial complex, to create a safety net within a healthy competitive marketplace, to be stewards of the earth and to ensure that folks from all walks of life have access to the things we all deserve as children of a loving God. Let's walk together FORWARD, as they say, and make our country a better place by electing a leader who understands the value of all people in a democracy and welcomes all as participants. Let's help him get there!