I Needed to Read This...Maybe You, Too?

Sometimes being a mom (and for me, a stay-at-home mom) is just overwhelming. Here's a column from the one and only Erma Bombeck that puts in all in perspective:

Why Don’t You Grow Up?
By Erma Bombeck

One of these days you’ll explode and shout, “Why don’t you grow up and act your age”
…and they will. OR:
“You guys get outside and find yourselves something to do and don’t slam the door!”
… and they don’t.
You’ll straighten up the boy’s bedroom neat and tidy, stickers discarded, bedspreads tucked neat and smooth, toys on the shelves. Hangers in the closet. Animals in their places. And you’ll say out loud, “Now I want it to stay that way and it will.
You’ll prepare a perfect dinner with a salad that isn’t picked to death and a cake with no finger traces in the icing and you’ll say, “Now there’s a meal for company.”
…and you’ll eat it alone.
You’ll say: “I want privacy on the phone, no fooling around. No demolition crews. Silence! Do you hear me?”
…and you’ll have it.
No more plastic tablecloths stained with spaghetti sauce.
No more bedspreads to protect the sofa from wet bottoms.
No more gates to stumble over at the top of the stairs.
No more anxious nights under a vaporizer tent.
No more sand on the sheets or Popeye movies in the bathroom.
No more iron on patches wet knotted shoestrings, or rubber bands for ponytails.
Imagine. A lipstick with a point on it.
No baby sitter for New Year’s Eve.
Washing only once a week.
Having your teeth cleaned without a baby on your lap.
No PTA meetings.
No car pools.
No blaring radios.
No one washing her hair at 11 o’clock at night.
Having your own roll of Scotch tape.
Think about it. No more Christmas presents out of toothpicks and library paste.
No more sloppy oatmeal kisses.
No more tooth fairy.
No giggles in the dark.
No knees to heal. No responsibility.
Only a voice crying,” Why don’t you grow up?’ and the silence echoing, “I did.”

Sometimes It Just Takes a Curtain Call

This is my favorite story about my little brother, Bart. I thought I'd put it here for posterity. 

People who have known me for any length of time are aware that I have a younger brother, named Bart, who is three years younger than me and has "intellectual disabilities." Essentially, Bart functions at the level of a four-year-old most of the time. He lives in a group home/apartment situation about ten miles from my parents and has such a busy social life that he has to squeeze us into his schedule. Or, at least it seems that way sometimes. (:

Years and years ago (when we were teenagers), Bart was attending a school for disabled children that was religiously based. At the very least, he had a religion lesson on a regular basis. One day, around Easter time, Bart came home from school appearing very sad. When my mom asked him what was wrong, he said, "Jesus died." Apparently, Bart had learned the Easter story that day...but all he understood was that Jesus had died. He hadn't grasped that Jesus rose again. Of course, Mom responded with something along the lines of, "But then Jesus rose again, and Jesus lives in our hearts." No dice. When my dad came home, he tried to explain to Bart that Jesus died, but he rose again. All he got was, "Jesus died" and a very sad expression.

The next day, my mom asked Bart's religion teacher to re-explain the Easter story to him. She did, but Bart just couldn't understand the concept of the resurrection...he couldn't move from Good Friday to Easter Sunday. My parents tried again...I even tried...to no avail. "Jesus died", and that was it. Eventually, we gave the situation over the God, because we were at our wits end.

Fast forward a few months...for my birthday that year, my parents took the family to see "Jesus Christ, Superstar" at Wolf Trap (big outdoor arena in Northern Virginia). We packed a picnic, sat out on the lawn, and enjoyed the show. If you've never seen "Jesus Christ, Superstar", then I'll tell you that it's a musical (very loosely) based on the last week of Jesus' life. Lots of poetic license.

At the end of the show, Jesus is on the cross, and the background changes and soft music plays as he is lifted up into the rafters. Bart was with us, of course, and I could see him looking sad as he watch this. Jesus had died, after all. The show was over, and Jesus was dead.

The show may have been over, but there was more excitement to come...

What happens at the end of every dramatic performance?

The Curtain call
  
In groups and pairs, the performers came back on stage for their bows. Finally, the actor who played Jesus walked onto the stage to thundering applause and a standing ovation. As pseudo-Jesus came out, Bart's face lit up and he exclaimed, "Jesus lives! Mom, Dad, Patti...Jesus lives!" And we heard him proclaim that for the rest of the evening...as we left the lawn, as we rode the shuttle to our car, as we drove home...we heard Bart proclaiming, at the top of his lungs, the essence of the Gospel: that Jesus died, rose again, and still lives today.

Sometimes God works in the most amazing and unexpected ways to touch our hearts and open our eyes, including curtain calls of Andrew Lloyd Weber musicals.


 

Blast from the Past or The Internet is Amazing

Way back in 1999, when my bacherlor's degree from Emory & Henry College was fresh off the press, I took a job as the Administrative Assistant at an Episcopal church in Northern Virginia. I wasn't quite ready to go to seminary, and my degree in religion didn't make me very marketable in the job market. Church jobs (like as a youth minister) were few, far between, and competitive. So, after a few months of looking and dead-end temp jobs, I found out about this position, interviewed for it, and was hired on the spot. I worked at St. Francis for a year and a half, and left to attend Asbury. James and I were actually married at St. Francis (with two officiants: one Methodist and one Baptist) and held our reception in their fellowship hall.

One of the priests that I worked with was named Hentzi. He was the younger of the two and was the Associate Rector. Hentzi took me under his wing and we spent a lot of time talking about life and ministry and theology. Twelve years ago, he had been married for about ten years and had two young children. He was also the age that I am right now. I have a feeling that we were both jealous of the others' life at times...me wanting a spouse and children and him wanting PEACE AND QUIET. I now understand how he felt, and why he wanted to wring my neck some days. (: Right after James and I got married (and moved to Kentucky), Hentzi and his family moved to a new church, and we lost contact.

But! Through the wonders of the Internet, a Google search, and his unique name, I found my long-lost friend and mentor. I left a comment on his blog, and we shall see if he a) actually remembers me, b) remembers me fondly or as that ditzy administrative assistance, and c) responds.

Regardless of the outcome, it was nice to find out that Hentzi is alive and well, and so are his wife and children. And once again, I think the Internet is amazing.

Now, my next task is to track down Bob, the other priest I worked with...maybe he has a blog as well?