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The Logical Twist

This week, our dear friends JJ. and B. entered into a new phase of relationship with our family.  JJ. gave birth at the beginning of July and will be returning to work soon, and they needed someone to help care for their child four days a week.  We will be sharing food, exchanging childcare and comparing parenting philosophies.  I am so excited to raise children with this woman!  The fact that E. is 2 years older doesn’t mean that I don’t have a lot to learn from her–already because of preferences they expressed, I searched out a simple recipe for diaper area spray to get kiddos’ bottoms cleaner, and began using it on E. as well.

It is a tricky to thing to become, for all intents and purposes, the work-at-home mom for two families.  I struggle over many decisions in my household; it is so hard to strike a balance of everyone’s needs!  The need for thriftiness and to be a good steward of our money. Our need to reduce our waste (yes, at this point I am convinced that it is a need that deserves attention in a much more comprehensive way than is usually granted in the U.S.).  Our need to live out the words of Jesus in a way that is honest, intentional and thoughtful.  J.’s needs which he rarely shares in any form (I had to insist on driving him to the hospital for a minor procedure this morning–then he is grounded to the office to watch movies all day).  E.’s needs which she shares quite vocally and sometimes unintelligably for those of us not fluent in “Elizabethan” which is the secondary language in our household.  The needs of all the people who touch my stuff on its way to me.  Financial needs of those around us.  The hidden poverty which I know exists in my neighborhood but which I often feel powerless to fight due to the stigma attached to it (Victorian novels make it sound so much more simple to care for the poor–just go out into the street and find a poor person and take care of them.  It doesn’t work that way in this day and age; but that’s another post).

Now, I will be adding another whole set of familial needs to the mix.  Someone else’s parenting decisions will have an effect on what I do in my day-to-day life.  It’s a lot to process.  However, there has been some good groundwork laid for this.  We were friends with B. for a long time before he and JJ. got married.  He even graciously took us in for a brief period when we were in between housing arrangements.  In many ways I feel we live out what it means to be the church with them as we share belongings, share life, share resources.  So this “professional” twist to our relationship is really not a twist at all but just the next logical step as we go through life together.

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Can-Can?

I just spent almost $30 to can tomatoes.
And I’m not even sure if it’ll work. Lots of people keep telling me it’s easy, so I’m hoping I can figure it out (hearing so many people say it’s easy gives me both comfort and added pressure. On one hand, it’s easy, so it should be fine. But on the other hand, if I mess it up, how much of a jerk will I be? Apparently about 30 bucks and a few hours’ worth).
This is the next step in my effort to eat locally…it makes sense that tomatoes grow in Ohio in August, so if I want to eat tomatoes in January then I need to learn to preserve them in some way.
I read this article the other day decrying the local movement as mostly misguided. They sited the example of people in NYC being lambasted for buying a California tomato due to the energy required to move said tomato across the country for consumption. Apparently these same people will buy local greenhouse tomatoes in December or February, even though just as much energy (or more) is required to grow that tomato. Huh. I begin to see the editorialists’ point.
For us, it’s not just important that our food be ‘local.’ Local food often gives me an added benefit of knowing the person who grew it, which lets me have a clearer picture of what its history is. Also, someone who looks me in the eye every week is less likely to feel comfortable withholding information about what chemicals may or may not be involved in my food’s production. I think relationship is important to me in the food aspect of my life, as in other aspects. We as a culture are so disconnected from each other. I am only recently beginning to realize how deeply the disconnect runs–we don’t ask ‘nosy’ questions of each other. We don’t want to think about where our vegetables come from–ick! dirt! We eat meat, but God forbid we should have to touch something that resembles a dead animal!
I decided a couple of years ago that if I was going to avoid veganism but live a morally integrated food life, I needed to become okay with touching something that I recognized as a dead animal. Now when I prepare a chicken I spend time thinking about that chicken and all the hands that touched it on its way to my plate. And what was previously just something to shove in my mouth becomes…something important, and something to be thankful for.
Paul told the church at Colosse, “Whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks through Him to God the Father.”
To me, this means we should be grateful for every action we are blessed with the ability and opportunity to take. How can we be grateful for something we are not willing to really think about?

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Suburban Life

I get stuck in a rut sometimes.  A ‘my life is pointless and selfish’ rut.  Living in the suburbs of Cleveland and being at home with E. full-time occasionally leaves me wondering if I should be finding a way to help–someone.  I get that what I am doing is important.  Really, I do.  We eat well because I value food and take the time to shop locally, cook from scratch, grind my own flour and teach my daughter about how to prepare and enjoy really delicious food that is “good to eat and good to think.”  We make our own laundry detergent, toothpaste, facial scrub, etc.

When I feel stuck in my own small world, I go to a list of people that I love (I actually have a written list in my planner book, and no, I will not tell you who is on it and who isn’t!  It is an ever-fluctuating list) and pick someone.  Then, I call them or try to think of something that would help or please them in some way.  It’s all very fulfilling.

But…

I am wondering if my list of people are too much like me.  There are people out there who are poor.  I mean, really poor.  Don’t know where their next meal is coming from, don’t have a winter coat, don’t have blankets to put on their babies, don’t have a place to stay poor.  I mostly don’t do anything that helps those people.

And I feel like I should.

Actually, I know I should.  It seems pretty clear to me from reading what Jesus said and how he spent his time and energy that caring for the poor, the sick and the disenfranchised was of central importance.

The thing I am struggling with is how to become involved in a way that I will maintain.  The reason for originally calling my blog “Sustainably Kate” is that I want to find ways to make changes that will last rather than go by the wayside when I get burned out.  I am looking to make lasting progress, not just follow a trend or have a phase.

I believe strongly that the best and most effective way for us to affect a change in the world is by working within our own sphere of influence.  Our daily relationships provide a great opportunity for letting Goodness and Light flow naturally from our lives to others.  What seems off to me about my sphere of influence is that it seems not to regularly include the poor or the sick.

Some things I have read recently make me think that the Catholic Church has some really great ideas about social justice.  More about that may be on the horizon.

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Lost and Found and Anacronism?

This weekend we celebrated my mom’s birthday.  In the afternoon, we went to the Great Lakes Medieval Faire, and in the evening we saw Lost and Found play (a band I have followed since high school).  It was great fun, but it also reminded me what a small demographic I belong to.  I am a member of the tiny segment of society who enjoys creative anacronism and occasionally goes to concerts held at churches.

I was chatting with some of the vendors that I have gotten to know a little at the faire and it came up that we were going to a concert.  Here’s a rough rendering of how the conversation went down:

“Oh!  That sounds like fun!  I’d like to go to a show tonight.  Where is it?”

“Well, um, it’s at a church.  B-b-but it’s not what you are probably thinking right now…they are total hippies–one of them is even a vegan.”

“Hah!  You’re a christian?”

“Yes.  But again, probably not what you are thinking right now.  I don’t even really like to mention it until I know people better because of all the baggage associated with…well you know.”

“Totally.  I didn’t think you were like that.  I didn’t get that kinda vibe off of you.  I think it’s so cool that you guys are here with your mom.  My mom is very religious (Southern Baptist) and she would never come to any of my things.  Yeah, this is a pretty godless bunch around here.  Most Christians don’t like us too much.”

I wished I could disagree with her, and say that the church welcomes people at least as much as the rhetoric in the program represents.

Lacking the time and inclination to change into more normal clothes, we just showed up in our costumes.  When we got to the Church where the show was being held, we were offered a private room to sit in and eat our food.  It was very nice and roomy with lots of couches and people seemed to take special care to come and offer us baked goods and welcome us to their church.  A couple of the people who came in said, “were you out in Geneva!?  That’s a great festival.  Did you have fun?”

But there were many more who looked at us as, at best, an oddity.  I apparently got several angry looks from men that D. said seemed to imply that I was dressed inappropriately (I was wearing a halter top with a meshy-shrug sweater over it and a floor length flared skirt).  D. was confused by this as he is my brother and would not have bought anything for me to wear that was immodest as that would be, um, wierd.  J. pointed out that my clothes probably drew negative attention not because they were actually inappropriate, but because they were different.  If I had wanted to fit in, I could have worn short-shorts and a tight t-shirt or tank top and no one would have noticed me.  But…even when I have tried to fit in in the past it never works anyway; so I have mostly stopped trying.

The thing that I took away from the whole experience was that I am not sent to the people in that particular church, and so it is not necessary for them to approve of me.  I am to be gracious and loving to all people the best I can, and wherever I see that God’s grace goes out from me and seems to take root in another person I am to encourage that growth the best I can.  Even at the ren faire.

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Respect the Tantrum

My friend Kate came to visit.  Yes, another Kate.  She’s actually one of the first Kates I ever met.  One of the ones who made me want to be a Kate instead of a Katie.  That’s how cool she is.  She lives in Africa, so she came home at Christmas-time, and was here again for six weeks and we got 3 whole days as a visit!  E. has seen her only 3 times since she was born, with this being by far the longest time spent together.  We went to the playground, we used our swingset, we went to “Whole Toods” and “Teenix Tottee”  (Phoenix Coffee).  We watched movies and drank tea together.  E. was over the moon.  So was I, to be with one of my closest friends.

In an incident of spectacularly bad timing, about 5 minutes before Kate was supposed to leave, E. got Very Upset about something or other and started to have a temper tantrum.  I don’t really remember what she was originally crying about, but a couple of minutes in, I said, “Okay, honey, Miss Kate has to leave.  It would be better if you could be in charge of your body and calm down so you can say bye to her.”

Then things went from bad to worse.  She looked at Kate and screamed twice as loud.  Real tears began to fall.  She literally could not stop crying and I could tell that her emotions had gotten much too big for her to even begin to process, let alone control.  So I picked her up and said, “Your feelings are too big for you right now.  I am going to hold you and keep your body safe until you are ready to be in charge of it again.”  She alternately thrashed and clung to me for about 4 or 5 minutes which seemed like hours.  I asked her, “are you sad because Kate’s leaving?”  “Uh—-uh-huh!”  Me too!  Kate said, “Me too.”  We all started crying.  But she had to go.  So as all of us cried, she got in the car and began to back down the driveway.  The whole time, E. was saying (and signing), “Love you!  love you.  love you.  love you.  love you,”  so that Kate would know.  As her car pulled away, E. sighed a huge sigh, looked at me and said, “She gone!  I not say love you.  I talk her on the computer.  I sad.  I want yogurt!”

Would it have been better and easier if E. had sweetly kissed her on the cheek and smiled and said “check you later!?”  Of course.  But I do not regret allowing her space to feel what she was feeling.

I think too many times we as a culture want to act in appropriate ways and so we don’t acknowledge our feelings.  Emotions are not right or wrong.  They are what they are.  They certainly can be based on false thoughts or beliefs and those must be confronted and fought with everything we can muster, but to stuff our feelings down without challenging the lies underneath them can have disastrous consequences for our selves and our relationships.

A very wise friend (okay, it was Kate.  I really do have other friends, but this post is apparently dedicated to her) said once that emotions are like a very persistent door-to-door salesman.  They knock and when you open the door they approach you with whatever they bring.  If it is something you don’t want, you have a choice to make. You can slam the door in their face.  If you do this, they will come back over and over again at the worst times, until you don’t have the energy to turn them away anymore.

The other option is to say, “Alright, you can come in and sit on my couch.  You can talk to me about your Acme brand windows that I don’t want.  But I have things to do.  I have to make dinner and pack for a trip.  I also have to update my blog.  I will not allow you to keep me from doing the thing that lies next to me undone.”

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Environmentalist Breakdown!

There is so much badness in the world.  It’s hard sometimes not to get overwhelmed.  It doesn’t help when people fight over how bad the badness actually is.  The Great Pacific Garbage Patch is the size of Texas!  Actually, it’s bigger than the Continental United States!  Actually, it doesn’t exist and is a hoax perpetrated by atheists and liberals.

I went to a fair this weekend (full disclosure…it was a “faire” because I am that cool).  The point of this faire was to dress up in costumes and party like it’s 1399.  Or earlier.  There were things about it that were very enjoyable.  We got to have time with friends, watch E. enjoy meeting new people, and see lots of handmade pretty things, to name a few.  But everywhere I looked there were plastic or styrofoam disposable cups and plates, and when I asked what kind of oil my (medieval?) onion rings were fried in, the girl behind the grill rolled her eyes and said “The hot kind…”

These things are not a big deal.  But it pointed out to me that my perspective has shifted quite a bit in the last few years.  When I was in college I never gave a second thought to the amount of styrofoam and plastic disposables that went in the trash as I survived on fast food, ramen noodles and pizza. Things have changed quite a lot for me since then.

And to be honest, sometimes it’s exhausting to live in a way that is not mainstream.  I suppose that’s why it’s called the mainstream; because any other way leaves you feeling like one of those salmon that can’t do its thing because somebody built a dam 20 miles into their up-stream journey.

I’ve been trying to make small changes and pace myself in our effort to reconcile the way our family lives to our faith and the planet.  I’ve heard if you try to change everything at once it’s a surefire way to burn out and end up not able to even think about it anymore.  I’m not quite in that place, but I just feel frustrated and as though nothing I can do will matter.  I know that isn’t true, but when I see all the problems and how badly we as humans abuse the planet, its resources, and each other, part of me just wants to curl up in a ball and eat tortilla chips out of a non-recyclable plastic bag.

“But Kate, didn’t you read your own blog?  A few weeks ago, you were saying little things do matter and are not pointless.  Do you still mean that?”  Well, yes.  Here’s an insight into my brain, if you’ve been paying attention.  I am a very emotional person.  Part of the way I work is by feeling things very strongly.  I feel completely and thoroughly and sometimes I need to let my emotions subside and then I can take what is useful from them.  If I try to stop in the middle and pretend to be fine then it will come up again at some point and have to be dealt with in a much more complicated way.  Talking about it helps.  So, I feel right now that…well I’ve more than covered that, haven’t I?  But some things I know to be true are:

  • I should do the best I can, and that it isn’t my job to save the planet.
  • It is, however, my job to care for it, my friends and my family the best I can with all the knowledge, skill set and flexibility that I can muster.
  • There is room for failure.  If I don’t live up to the standard I set for myself, well, I’m the one who set it anyway.  What do I know?
  • Failure (even in the form of a full bag of trash to put out on the curb again this week) should not discourage me from continually striving to do better.
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Only Words

Familiar scene:

G. and L. are having a playdate.  L. has a toy, and G. wants it so he hits L. over the head and takes it.  Parent G runs over, grabs the toy from G. and says sternly, “Say you’re sorry!”

“Srryyy…” mumbles G.

Parent G hands the toy to Parent L who hands it to L. and says, “Say it’s okay.”

“It’s okay?” says L, a bit bewildered.  The children return to playing, and the parents return to chatting on the couch.  It’s okay.  But is it?

We have made a slightly controversial decision not to make our daughter say “I’m sorry.”  When she does something to hurts someone else or make them feel bad, I make sure she understands that her action is unacceptable (“E., is it okay to throw a toy at your friend? Do you think it could make her say ouch?” “Yes, Mommy.”)  After she understands this, we ask her if she should do it anymore.  If she says no, then we say, “If you know it was the wrong thing, and you want to stop doing it, you can say you are sorry.”

We also don’t make her say, “It’s okay,” if someone else does something to her.  Because you know what?  It isn’t okay to be hit over the head.  It actually stinks.  Forgiving someone doesn’t mean that you just say that it’s fine and move on (even if you really, really want it to be fine–there are usually steps to be taken between being hurt and being fine).  It means that you recognize you have been hurt but that you want to move forward.  We are in the process of teaching her to say, “I forgive you,” in a similar way to how we taught her about being sorry.  Sorry was like this:

1.  E., is M. okay?  you threw the ball and it hit her in the face?

2.  E., you can tell M. is saying ouch!  can you check and see if you can do anything?

3.  E., M said ouch!  Should you throw the ball close to her?

4.  E., M. said ouch!  Should you throw the ball close to her?  Are you going to do that anymore?

I think “I forgive you,” will go something like this:

1.  E., did you like that she hit you?

2.  E., do you feel angry?  Do you wish she would stop it?

3.  E., do you think there will be other good things after right now?  Do you want to stop feeling angry?

That is the process of arriving at forgiveness…recognizing you have been hurt, acknowledging bad feelings you have (whether you want to keep them or not), and affirming that in spite of bad feelings, you are choosing to release the other person from vengeance (or any jail where you’d like to keep them in your head).  After all, if it was really as okay as we insist, what would be the point of apologizing?

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My Dad…

…is very intelligent.
…is “funny” in almost exactly the same way as my husband. I must enjoy this on some level to have sought out someone else’s jokes to pretend not to laugh at.
…is considerate. He would never intentionally do or say anything to hurt anyone’s feelings.
…is a very hard worker.
…is huge. I mean 6′ 6″ and strong. I didn’t date much in high school.
…could talk for hours with a random person at Home Depot.
…is openminded. We have started to have some great discussions in the past few years.
…is capable. If something in my house or my car breaks I usually call him first to find out what to do (so do some of my friends, and lots of other people).
…comes up with great nicknames. He called me ‘Halfling’ for the first half of my life.
…loves Lord of the Rings (obviously).
…is very caring and has always been so supportive of and patient with me.
…is loved!

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Balance of Power

Discipline. Love. Respect. Boundaries. Flexibility. Discipline. Relationship. Authority. Attachment.   There are so many different words to describe the way we relate to our children.

I feel strongly that it is important for E. to grow up understanding how to relate to other people in appropriate ways.  For that to happen, she needs to know now that I am the parent and she is the child.  This first experience with authority will shape the way she reacts when she is in school, the work force, friendships…it will color the way she views the world.  Experiencing consistent, loving and reasonable authority early on could give her some tools to form healthy relationships for her whole life.  The way we think and feel about God is also informed by the way our parents relate to us.  The way I was parented led me to think of God as patient, loving and gentle.  Not because my parents said that God was those things (they probably did at some point but I don’t remember that), but because in those formative years they modeled those traits for me.  If there is a God who created me, he is in some sense a Father and it made sense to me that he would be like my dad who was so kind or my mom who was so thoughtful.   I want that for my children.

We have been adjusting to a new level of communicativeness with E.  It is especially hard for J. who was on ‘Daddy duty’  most of the weekend while I finished up a painting project (okay, I primed the upstairs trim almost 2 years ago and finally decided to put the color on).

When someone is a baby, they need everything done for them.  They also don’t argue so much about being put somewhere else.  As that person gets more and more aware, however, they start to have opinions about things.  It has become our pattern to tell her what needs to happen and then ask her if she wants to do it, or if we should do it for her.  This is working well for shoes, getting into the carseat, going inside, etc. etc.  Hmm….correction…was working.

E. seems to have hit a new cognitive stage.  She is pushing back in ways that she never has before.  It is easiest to just start with the ultimatum.  “Are you going to put your shoes on, or am I going to do it?” “Can you hold my hand to cross the street, or should I carry you?”  But that leaves very little room for exploration,or for internal moral motivation.   I want her to be able to arrive at the right decision because she knows it is the right thing, not just because “Mommy said so.”  Some things are more innate than others.  I don’t have to tell her to eat lunch.  She gets hungry, so she eats.  But some things do require some intentionality to set up and eventually become second nature.  Without even thinking about it, when we go to cross a street her little hand reaches out for mine and she holds on tight. “I be safe!”

The tension that we sometimes deal with right now is between when to give her space to explore her world and when to put our foot down.  It’s true that we should not have to tell her 16 times to please come back to the back yard because we are not able to watch her in the front at a given moment.  Maybe instead we could abandon our back-yard project for 2 minutes to smell the lavender, or maybe not.  We have to make each decision in the moment and we do it imperfectly.  I think in the end it comes down to being as flexible as possible, and not giving a direct order unless we are prepared to insist that it be followed.

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The Emotional Palette

Emotions are like colors.  We start out life with a clean canvas, and our experiences and the way we interact with them informs what colors we will use to ‘paint.’  Each new experience expands our palette and gives us more color options.  Depression or even just ‘being in a funk’ can be like the yucky brown color if that’s all you see, but one thing I try to do is remember that brown is just one of the colors I have, and that eventually I will move on to a different one.  Sometimes that takes some (or a staggering amount of) work though.

One problem I have is that circumstances overwhelm me.  E. will throw up in the car, I burn the meal I’m making, the bread doesn’t rise, etc. etc.  One of these things at a time is not usually enough to send me to the bad place.  But each time something little happens, it takes me a minute to recover.  And if I’m in the middle of processing it when something else happens, then I get…overloaded.

I have good days and bad days.  Every now and then, I have a really bad one and then snap out of it the next day.  Much less frequently, I can’t seem to get back to normal the next day either, and that’s when I start to worry.  Then I start to access the support system (friends and family with good listening ears) I have put in place for just such an occasion.

Another thing that is key in dealing with my new emotional palette is realizing what my thought patterns are like.  Feelings are fairly uncontrollable for me.  They tend to swirl around in my brain and not make much sense.  But when I can link an emotion to something I am thinking, then I can do something about it.  I can control my thoughts.  I cannot control what thoughts pop into my brain; so I don’t consider that all thoughts that pass through my consciousness are mine.  But I am trying to learn to be more careful about what thoughts I take and make my own by embellishing them and dwelling on them.  Goodness, this is abstract!  Let me try a concrete example:

Today, I took E. out to lunch.  We went to a sushi place and I think we were the only people there not in business casual attire.  I began to feel self-conscious about being the sloppy housewife with the jeans and t-shirt and the greasy ponytail.  A woman at the table next to us kept glancing over.  I tried to figure out what it meant.  She must think I am so frumpy!  She looks so put-together…I look so gross!  Why didn’t I take a shower this morning?  And on, and on, and on…ad exaustium.

About 2 minutes into this little pity party, I suddenly realized that I had no right to judge this woman based on the fact that she glanced at us a few times (yes, assuming that someone is thinking bad things about you IS judging them).  So I made an intentional choice to assume the best of her and went on with my lunch.  As we were leaving, she smiled at E. and the people at the table with her told me how cute she was.  I felt like a jerk.  But not a frumpy one.