So it turns out you don't actually have to remember your blogger password, if you are willing to just pluck another one right out of the air. So without a lot of careful thought as to the memorability of my choice I have signed back into the blogging world, in a ruthless attempt to shake off my dusty writing skills before my next paper is due.
The last year has been a wild ride, more so than normal, because in the interlude of not blogging, we became a foster family. Yes, I hear the question all the time..."You mean you don't have enough kids?" And I guess the real answer is, "No, we don't." We felt last year and still feel now, that the cliche we learned so well in Uganda is actually true. There is always room for one more.
The "one more", in fact, is the main reason for the silence in this very public blog sphere. In a sleep-deprived state I could think of no way to joke around about our life, or thoughtfully reflect upon my studies without at least alluding to the many ways that both were being challenged and enriched by this little one. I'm still unsure about my ability to compartmentalize, and of course, privacy has never been my strong suite. We'll see how it goes...
Monday, September 9, 2013
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Really?
So let me get this straight... Republicans want to cut programs that help the poor, the elderly and the disabled yet also claim to represent Christians? I'm just about as confused as when the same party chanted "Drill, Baby, Drill!" with the same claims.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Back to BGO
After much heartfelt discussion and prayer (which included a few personal temper tantrums on my part) Kev has returned to our home in Uganda. Not permanently, just for a visit. The first time he has been back to Bundibugyo in three years, the first time he has been out of the country and away from modern medical facilities since his sudden death event.
I admit, when he first broached the subject I reacted poorly. In my defense he began the conversation by saying that he had a "favor" to ask. I thought he might want me to get him a glass of wine from the kitchen before our video started. Instead he wanted permission to embark on a remote international journey. This lead to a loud and explosive confrontation the likes of which have not been seen since our first year of dating.
Bundibugyo will always have a special place in my heart, carved deeply through suffering and sacrifice, joy and friendship. But did I want the love of my life, risking his to return to our former home? And so I cried and pouted and went to bed angry and hurt, only to wake up the next morning with the conviction that this desire of his should be approached in the same way we have always approached major decisions. If we moved forward with this desire, would doors open? Would the mission be open to a visit? The team on the ground in BGO is small right now. We know from personal experience that visitors, even low-key ones, come at a cost. Would the team be willing to host Kevin or would that seem overwhelming? The school has been through a lot in the past few years since our departure. Was the new headmaster willing to have Kevin return? Would he find a visit now helpful or disruptive? Could we find the money in our budget to cover the trip? Would Kev's cardiologist and primary care physician sign off on the adventure or advise against it? Would the needed shots and medications for traveling to "a remote, rural location with high contact with local people" interact negatively with his current medications. There were a lot of doors that could have closed, and I must admit that I kept out hope that one of them would slam shut. Instead the doors continued to open wide.
And rather surprisingly (from my point of view) the closer we got to his departure the less panicked and the more peaceful I felt. The more I began to let go of the fear that he would die if out of my sight. I know this is one of those quirky things. Just like eagle-eyeing a healthy newborn to make sure they will continue to breathe, I had the same irrational fear... that another throwdown could happen and I wouldn't be there. Fortunately, my husband is a patient and yet persistent man. And I love who he is. I love the way he's geared, even when that makes me uncomfortable and tworked off. And I desperately want him to pursue God's calling in his life whether that is investing in students here or in Bundibugyo. I don't want to restrict him because of my fear... which is somehow a better feeling prayer than the previous door shutting one.
So we spent the last few days together packing trunks and sharing stories of our time together in BGO. After two long international flights and a day of recovery in Kampala, this morning he flew into Bundibugyo on a small prop plane, landed on the grass runway, met the new missionary team currently on the ground and reunited with his staff at CSB.
And just in case you were wondering, all four of our kids begged to go "back home" with him.
I admit, when he first broached the subject I reacted poorly. In my defense he began the conversation by saying that he had a "favor" to ask. I thought he might want me to get him a glass of wine from the kitchen before our video started. Instead he wanted permission to embark on a remote international journey. This lead to a loud and explosive confrontation the likes of which have not been seen since our first year of dating.
Bundibugyo will always have a special place in my heart, carved deeply through suffering and sacrifice, joy and friendship. But did I want the love of my life, risking his to return to our former home? And so I cried and pouted and went to bed angry and hurt, only to wake up the next morning with the conviction that this desire of his should be approached in the same way we have always approached major decisions. If we moved forward with this desire, would doors open? Would the mission be open to a visit? The team on the ground in BGO is small right now. We know from personal experience that visitors, even low-key ones, come at a cost. Would the team be willing to host Kevin or would that seem overwhelming? The school has been through a lot in the past few years since our departure. Was the new headmaster willing to have Kevin return? Would he find a visit now helpful or disruptive? Could we find the money in our budget to cover the trip? Would Kev's cardiologist and primary care physician sign off on the adventure or advise against it? Would the needed shots and medications for traveling to "a remote, rural location with high contact with local people" interact negatively with his current medications. There were a lot of doors that could have closed, and I must admit that I kept out hope that one of them would slam shut. Instead the doors continued to open wide.
And rather surprisingly (from my point of view) the closer we got to his departure the less panicked and the more peaceful I felt. The more I began to let go of the fear that he would die if out of my sight. I know this is one of those quirky things. Just like eagle-eyeing a healthy newborn to make sure they will continue to breathe, I had the same irrational fear... that another throwdown could happen and I wouldn't be there. Fortunately, my husband is a patient and yet persistent man. And I love who he is. I love the way he's geared, even when that makes me uncomfortable and tworked off. And I desperately want him to pursue God's calling in his life whether that is investing in students here or in Bundibugyo. I don't want to restrict him because of my fear... which is somehow a better feeling prayer than the previous door shutting one.
So we spent the last few days together packing trunks and sharing stories of our time together in BGO. After two long international flights and a day of recovery in Kampala, this morning he flew into Bundibugyo on a small prop plane, landed on the grass runway, met the new missionary team currently on the ground and reunited with his staff at CSB.
And just in case you were wondering, all four of our kids begged to go "back home" with him.
Meanwhile, I went to Blueberry Bay Farm and picked three pounds of blueberries and a quart of black raspberries and spent the afternoon making triple berry jam and homemade ice cream.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Finished...
At least with the 15 page research paper. What a shocker to realize that my ideas must be substantiated by actual published material and not just footnoted as "because I'm the Mommy that's why." My best friend for this project was Kate Turabian's A Manual for Writers. A great book for those of you writing papers or advising children in the finer art of class papers. Everything you need really is covered in this gem of a book. Mine is now littered with underlinings and bent pages. The spine has long since been broken from long hours left open by the computer and then crushed by various middle school text books that had "to go somewhere, Mom."
I did find out, among other things, that my eyes hurt when I stare at a computer screen too long. I was advised to take short breaks, staring into the distance, preferably at something green. Instead, I bought a red beta fish and added three clumps of spider grass to the top. The variegated leaves sprout out in all directions over the top like some hairstyle gone awry. The shiny white roots descend into the water and dig into the black stones at the bottom. The fish swims in and around them until it notices me or anything else that annoys it and then the beta puffs out in all its finned glory. I suppose it is trying to intimidate me so that I won't attack it. Instead I find its bluster beautiful. I watch it for awhile before getting sucked back into whatever paragraph I've been working on. The end result is that I have yet another live thing to care for, but on the other hand, my eyes do hurt less.
The research paper ended up exploring several of the topics floating around in my head. I did a fair amount of reading on Feminist Theology. A field that contains a wide, wide spectrum of thought. At least I have a tentative grasp on some of the names and ideas that are floating around out there. I settled on studying in depth Catherine Mowry LaCugna, a catholic, feminist theologian from Notre Dame who died of cancer at the age of 44 back in 1997. Her best known work is a fascinating book entitled God For Us: The Trinity and Christian Life. The paper focused on the Trinity, both its historical development as a doctrine and the implications that a trinitarian theology has for the life of the church. The underlying, more personal, question was whether a feminist could remain orthodox, yielding a perspective that is needed in the mostly male-centered world of theology or would such a perspective lead down the road to heresy. The paper took far, far longer than I had hoped. I find my lack of knowledge produces a high need to research which combined with a natural procrastination tendency and a full life outside of school, plus a general lack of formal writing practice meant that more than a month went by before it went winging onward to be graded. But I did love every minute of writing that paper and I'm looking forward to more. It is a sickness, I know.
I did find out, among other things, that my eyes hurt when I stare at a computer screen too long. I was advised to take short breaks, staring into the distance, preferably at something green. Instead, I bought a red beta fish and added three clumps of spider grass to the top. The variegated leaves sprout out in all directions over the top like some hairstyle gone awry. The shiny white roots descend into the water and dig into the black stones at the bottom. The fish swims in and around them until it notices me or anything else that annoys it and then the beta puffs out in all its finned glory. I suppose it is trying to intimidate me so that I won't attack it. Instead I find its bluster beautiful. I watch it for awhile before getting sucked back into whatever paragraph I've been working on. The end result is that I have yet another live thing to care for, but on the other hand, my eyes do hurt less.
The research paper ended up exploring several of the topics floating around in my head. I did a fair amount of reading on Feminist Theology. A field that contains a wide, wide spectrum of thought. At least I have a tentative grasp on some of the names and ideas that are floating around out there. I settled on studying in depth Catherine Mowry LaCugna, a catholic, feminist theologian from Notre Dame who died of cancer at the age of 44 back in 1997. Her best known work is a fascinating book entitled God For Us: The Trinity and Christian Life. The paper focused on the Trinity, both its historical development as a doctrine and the implications that a trinitarian theology has for the life of the church. The underlying, more personal, question was whether a feminist could remain orthodox, yielding a perspective that is needed in the mostly male-centered world of theology or would such a perspective lead down the road to heresy. The paper took far, far longer than I had hoped. I find my lack of knowledge produces a high need to research which combined with a natural procrastination tendency and a full life outside of school, plus a general lack of formal writing practice meant that more than a month went by before it went winging onward to be graded. But I did love every minute of writing that paper and I'm looking forward to more. It is a sickness, I know.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Too little too late
Yeah, so the Tuesday, Thursday plan is not going to work out. Mostly because I started out too late, but also because I know my tendency to procrastinate. I have 14 more lectures, about 2,000 pages to read, 6 forum discussion entries, a 12-15 page paper and three exams. All which need to be finished by April. My new plan is to pretend that all of this is due by March. Hopefully my procrastination/adrenaline rush will kick in soon and I'll be a machine of academic intensity. Perhaps instead of using the extra umph I get from my evening cup of coffee to watch another episode on TV, I'll actually read another chapter or two for class after the kids are in bed.
For now I'm pondering research paper topics. So far I like comparing the "eternal subordination" theory about the Trinity with prevailing masculine and feminine worldviews. You know, the whole who is greater God the Father, God the Son or God the Holy Spirit? Is there an inherent hierarchy, in which one is greater. Does the Son proceed from the Father? Does the Spirit proceed from the Son? Does the Father proceed from either? Does the Son proceed from the Spirit? Who submits to whom and for what purpose?
I also am intrigued with Feminist Theology and the notion that masculine language in the bible prohibits women in particular from full participation. I get it, kind of. But I must admit to being more annoyed that either side seems more interested in shoring up power. And disgruntled that bringing in the feminine can sometimes introduce aspects of former pagan worship into a church who claims to worship a jealous God. There's a tight rope there, that I don't want to jump up and down on. As I female theologian and feminist, will I inherit feminist theology whether I want it or not? Shouldn't I know a bit more about what that means?
And last, what about the role of Scripture? We talk about the inspiration of Scripture. We talk about the Word of God. Surely the Bible is important. But for those of us who could be accused of "bible thumping" our knowledge of the OT seems to be rather inadequate and don't all those verses that talk about Scripture being God-breathed actually refer to the OT? As I read more about the whole Sola Scriptura argument, I do have to wonder if the Word of God (scripture) is trying to replace the Word of God (Jesus). Do we mistakenly believe that the second coming has already arrived in the closed cannon of scripture? And there is the whole protestant reformation thing... where the preeminence of scripture and its own authority came about as a way to challenge the church's and the pope's authority. Is it all really a power struggle? Don't even get me started on how verse plucking can give anyone a "clear reading" on any topic under the sun and all with the full weight of "because God says so" behind them.
Somehow I need to focus in on one of these or a completely different topic and begin to read....
For now I'm pondering research paper topics. So far I like comparing the "eternal subordination" theory about the Trinity with prevailing masculine and feminine worldviews. You know, the whole who is greater God the Father, God the Son or God the Holy Spirit? Is there an inherent hierarchy, in which one is greater. Does the Son proceed from the Father? Does the Spirit proceed from the Son? Does the Father proceed from either? Does the Son proceed from the Spirit? Who submits to whom and for what purpose?
I also am intrigued with Feminist Theology and the notion that masculine language in the bible prohibits women in particular from full participation. I get it, kind of. But I must admit to being more annoyed that either side seems more interested in shoring up power. And disgruntled that bringing in the feminine can sometimes introduce aspects of former pagan worship into a church who claims to worship a jealous God. There's a tight rope there, that I don't want to jump up and down on. As I female theologian and feminist, will I inherit feminist theology whether I want it or not? Shouldn't I know a bit more about what that means?
And last, what about the role of Scripture? We talk about the inspiration of Scripture. We talk about the Word of God. Surely the Bible is important. But for those of us who could be accused of "bible thumping" our knowledge of the OT seems to be rather inadequate and don't all those verses that talk about Scripture being God-breathed actually refer to the OT? As I read more about the whole Sola Scriptura argument, I do have to wonder if the Word of God (scripture) is trying to replace the Word of God (Jesus). Do we mistakenly believe that the second coming has already arrived in the closed cannon of scripture? And there is the whole protestant reformation thing... where the preeminence of scripture and its own authority came about as a way to challenge the church's and the pope's authority. Is it all really a power struggle? Don't even get me started on how verse plucking can give anyone a "clear reading" on any topic under the sun and all with the full weight of "because God says so" behind them.
Somehow I need to focus in on one of these or a completely different topic and begin to read....
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Carolina Ball
I was a great disappointment to Kev in college. While other friends were sneaking their boyfriends into basketball games at the Dean Dome, I didn't even stand in line for tickets. I think we went to one game the whole time. And, let me point out, those were the glory years. Dean Smith at his best and an NCAA championship my senior year. What was I thinking?
Oh how times have changed. Our marriage definitely brought out the inner fan in me as I realized the intensity with which a Duke Alum felt the connection with their team. The whole Cameron Crazy is an identity that sticks. Once one, always one. The Tarheel/Devil combo is a particularly tricky combination. With such an intense scholastic rivalry, it is no surprise that our marriage heats up during basketball season.
We used to joke that we planned our children's births around March Madness. And, I have to admit that it is pretty much true. Louisa was born in April, the twins in mid-Feb. I came home from the field to give birth, for a reasonable blood supply and cable TV. (Joe was the exception, of course, he was born within days of the World Cup final.)
The first year back from the field, we taught our kids two big things (you gotta love the freedom of homeschooling)... the electoral college for the presidential election and how to fill in their NCAA brackets.
So here we are on the cusp of March and with bated breath I have realized that UNC (unlike the painful, painful season last year) might actually be a contender. So as things begin to heat up, our family is split right down the middle. Joe and Kev pull for Duke and pretty much any team that plays UNC (typical). Louisa and I are hard core Carolina fans, but find it in our hearts to cheer for any team in the ACC (even, gasp, Duke). I'm keeping my fingers crossed that this year we'll have a vested interest in the NCAA right up to the very end.
Oh how times have changed. Our marriage definitely brought out the inner fan in me as I realized the intensity with which a Duke Alum felt the connection with their team. The whole Cameron Crazy is an identity that sticks. Once one, always one. The Tarheel/Devil combo is a particularly tricky combination. With such an intense scholastic rivalry, it is no surprise that our marriage heats up during basketball season.
We used to joke that we planned our children's births around March Madness. And, I have to admit that it is pretty much true. Louisa was born in April, the twins in mid-Feb. I came home from the field to give birth, for a reasonable blood supply and cable TV. (Joe was the exception, of course, he was born within days of the World Cup final.)
The first year back from the field, we taught our kids two big things (you gotta love the freedom of homeschooling)... the electoral college for the presidential election and how to fill in their NCAA brackets.
So here we are on the cusp of March and with bated breath I have realized that UNC (unlike the painful, painful season last year) might actually be a contender. So as things begin to heat up, our family is split right down the middle. Joe and Kev pull for Duke and pretty much any team that plays UNC (typical). Louisa and I are hard core Carolina fans, but find it in our hearts to cheer for any team in the ACC (even, gasp, Duke). I'm keeping my fingers crossed that this year we'll have a vested interest in the NCAA right up to the very end.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Coffee
Lately, I've become a big fan of coffee. Straight, black, big-girl coffee. The kind with no cream or sugar. Now this might seem obvious to most people, but for someone who always took her milk and sugar with a little splash of actual coffee, this is a big change. I came late to the whole realization that one drinks coffee the same way one takes any drug. For a reason. I mistakenly thought that people drank it as a beverage of choice because they liked the taste, rather than what it could do for them. Hence, my coffee always tasted much more like liquid candy than anything else. I could always fall right to sleep after drinking a cup, since I was basically downing a hot glass of sweet milk.
In my never-ending quest to "finish well," (meaning-- get to the end of the day without killing anyone, doing emotional damage which will require later therapy, or in general displaying a complete lack of patience or understanding) I have tried various strategies. Early bedtimes for all ages, no naps past 18 months, a 5:00 glass of wine, lot's of internal counting to 10's, the development of a sugary sweet sing-song voice. And while many of these things have proven helpful in their own way, at different times, nothing works as well as my after-dinner cup of regular coffee. I know this means that I am awake far longer into the night than I should be, but the result I am looking for is kind of just that. I am viciously coherent during bedtime.
My children argue. A trait that I have more or less encouraged their entire lives. There are four of them, and they each have things to say, opinions to share, concerns and fears and issues to bring forth. And while many of these come out at random times and volumes during the day, the twilight of bedtime seems to bring out what ever else is left in their tank. With two kids hitting puberty, I need to be ON for those conversations. I need to be alert to what is said and not said. With the two little ones, they need to whisper their fears about vampires and boogey men and who might or might not still be their friend in the morning. They need a mommy with monster killing properties, who exerts her power on the threatening world and not on them.
This does seem like a no-brainer, right? Be nice to your kids. I'm here to say that parenting, can kick your butt without pausing for breath. I have found the experience to be much more like a marathon than a sprint. I love the race, but I'm all about any and every tool or gimmick that makes it that much easier to keep running. In the Bartkovich house, it is usually bedtime when things begin to break down. If we have survived the "witching hours" unscathed, and the aerobic exercise that the dinner table provides, the next challenge is usually "the routine." How do you get kids who want to do anything but, ready for bed and headed off to sleep. It is never easy. You'd think the day in and day out nature of the experience would somehow prepare everyone. But no, everyone still seems surprised by the fact that they must go to bed. What?! Can't I just watch one more episode... finish this chapter.... play just a little bit more... but I'm hungry... or thirsty... I forgot that I have two more pages of homework... can't we just snuggle a little longer... my friends stay up sooooo much later.... I'm just not tired... I need to talk to you about ______. Sigh. My ability to deal with these requests diminishes rapidly after 7:30. I'm just too tired. I want instant obedience. I don't want to threaten or yell or give the evil-eyed glare of a mom on the edge. And I find myself getting more tworked off as I do exactly those above things.
Is coffee the parenting silver bullet that cures all ills? No. But does it give me, for this time and this stage, a little extra leg up? Definitely. A little extra energy hit, with the accompanying clarity of vision and mental acuity to get me from the dinner table to the post bedtime zone with good humor and focused attention is just what I need and coffee delivers.
In my never-ending quest to "finish well," (meaning-- get to the end of the day without killing anyone, doing emotional damage which will require later therapy, or in general displaying a complete lack of patience or understanding) I have tried various strategies. Early bedtimes for all ages, no naps past 18 months, a 5:00 glass of wine, lot's of internal counting to 10's, the development of a sugary sweet sing-song voice. And while many of these things have proven helpful in their own way, at different times, nothing works as well as my after-dinner cup of regular coffee. I know this means that I am awake far longer into the night than I should be, but the result I am looking for is kind of just that. I am viciously coherent during bedtime.
My children argue. A trait that I have more or less encouraged their entire lives. There are four of them, and they each have things to say, opinions to share, concerns and fears and issues to bring forth. And while many of these come out at random times and volumes during the day, the twilight of bedtime seems to bring out what ever else is left in their tank. With two kids hitting puberty, I need to be ON for those conversations. I need to be alert to what is said and not said. With the two little ones, they need to whisper their fears about vampires and boogey men and who might or might not still be their friend in the morning. They need a mommy with monster killing properties, who exerts her power on the threatening world and not on them.
This does seem like a no-brainer, right? Be nice to your kids. I'm here to say that parenting, can kick your butt without pausing for breath. I have found the experience to be much more like a marathon than a sprint. I love the race, but I'm all about any and every tool or gimmick that makes it that much easier to keep running. In the Bartkovich house, it is usually bedtime when things begin to break down. If we have survived the "witching hours" unscathed, and the aerobic exercise that the dinner table provides, the next challenge is usually "the routine." How do you get kids who want to do anything but, ready for bed and headed off to sleep. It is never easy. You'd think the day in and day out nature of the experience would somehow prepare everyone. But no, everyone still seems surprised by the fact that they must go to bed. What?! Can't I just watch one more episode... finish this chapter.... play just a little bit more... but I'm hungry... or thirsty... I forgot that I have two more pages of homework... can't we just snuggle a little longer... my friends stay up sooooo much later.... I'm just not tired... I need to talk to you about ______. Sigh. My ability to deal with these requests diminishes rapidly after 7:30. I'm just too tired. I want instant obedience. I don't want to threaten or yell or give the evil-eyed glare of a mom on the edge. And I find myself getting more tworked off as I do exactly those above things.
Is coffee the parenting silver bullet that cures all ills? No. But does it give me, for this time and this stage, a little extra leg up? Definitely. A little extra energy hit, with the accompanying clarity of vision and mental acuity to get me from the dinner table to the post bedtime zone with good humor and focused attention is just what I need and coffee delivers.
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