Considering the World

September 10, 2014

Here we are, on our way home from Hannibal, Missouri, the childhood home of Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain) and the office of a lovely oral surgeon who was good enough to remove my eldest child’s wisdom teeth from her small, crowded mouth so that her braces might be more effective in correcting her teeth. Little of that is relevant to this blogpost, but since when have I limited myself to the relevant?

Long drives are good for conversations. Denny and I have been talking while Farra snoozes in the backseat, gauze hanging out of her mouth. 

I’m fascinated by landscapes. I’m fascinated by humankind's impact upon the earth. (More pleasantly by the former, less so by the latter.) This particular trip took us further north in our state than I’ve ever been. As we got up past St. Louis the land began to stretch out in bigger, flatter fields of corn, a little less rolling with less rugged forest than we have down in the St. Francois Mountain foothills. I consider the scenery and imagine it in other parts of the world. I marvel at the vastness of our small planet. So much happening on this little earthship floating around space.

And look at all these buildings, these roads, these motor vehicles transporting people hither, thither and home. Yes, I think about ants and how we are similar in many ways.

Once upon a time, humankind didn’t exist. Now we rule the world and have unveiled the Apple Watch.

Look at what we are capable of!

I’m growing fond of Apple. Actually, the only time I have ever seen a gadget advertised that I felt drawn to was when the first iPad was released. I remember thinking, “Now THAT is cool.”  They have a remarkable way of bringing amazing technological advances to the layperson. Few people have heard of the Large Hadron Collider, one of the world’s largest machines and a fascinating example of what humankind can do when it puts its collective mind to something (watch Particle Fever if you get a chance), but I don’t know anyone personally who doesn’t own an i-something or at least know what it is.

So what?

Well, so we privileged 1st-worlders are without excuse. When you look at the technological advances in the last 100 years, in the last 50 years, and project forward at the same rate of progress, you see we are capable of doing what we need to do to save ourselves.

And we need this. We have royally f**ked things up. If the rate of destruction continues without intervention, our species simply won’t last and, to boot, we’ll take a large number of other species with us on our way out of existence.

No, it’s not all us. Even if we get our shite together this planet has an end-date. If not by asteroid sooner, we will eventually be fried and absorbed by the growing star we call Sun. This planet has an expiration date. In as little as a few hundred million years (yes, very little in the grand scheme of things) Earth will likely be inhospitable. 

Wouldn’t it be nice to be comfortably established in a new solar system by then?

And why not, I say? We are fully capable of preventing our self-destruction and coming up with a way to get off of this rock when we need to, before it becomes an unbearable sauna.

But is humankind thinking of these things? Mostly no. We haven’t made it over our excitement of the Apple Watch and how it will improve our daily jog.

I’ve thought a great deal lately about the evolution of humankind. In a way our collective species focuses on our primitive needs; food, water, shelter, reproduction; not so different from other animals. Because of our consciousness we tend to take these things to excess, always striving for more. Tastier food (not necessarily more nutritious), larger homes filled with more stuff, sexual partners to satisfy all of our desires. Yes, we are so focused on these things. We create industries out of need and desire. We run, run, run, trying to have it all plus a bag of Jelly Babies. We want to feel good. Turn on the TV. It’s all about feeling good.

But there ARE people who are thinking of other things. I like to think it’s part of our evolution. Maybe someday, if we haven’t killed ourselves first, the collective humankind will focus more on what is good for us (and other species) than what feels good. (Insert Star Trek references here.)

It wasn’t that long ago that my focus was very limited. My world revolved around my home, my husband, my children, living righteously, and looking to the return of Christ, just as the Bible says a woman’s world should.

Titus 2 tells older women to “admonish the young women to love their husbands, to love their children, to be discreet, chaste, homemakers, good, obedient to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be blasphemed.”

Later in the same chapter, “For the grace of God that brings salvation has appeared to all men, teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly in the present age, looking for the blessed hope and glorious appearing of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ.”

I took those words to heart.Also these:  1 Thessalonians 4: “Make it your goal to live a quiet life, minding your own business and working with your hands, just as we instructed you before.”

As a believer I needn’t worry, God had things under control. I did, still, I admit. Occasionally. And about things that hit close to home.  But the future of humankind was laid out in scripture. We were to do our best here on earth in the time that we had, acting our part in God’s grand play, for he had a wonderful future in store for us: admittance to his kingdom. That was all we needed to focus on.

I see this all around me here in the bible belt. People who take God’s word somewhat seriously, people who believe he is returning soon. They act accordingly. What do you suppose that looks like? How do you suppose that effects the collective mind?

Denny and I have an acquaintance, a local religious man with whom we’re friends on Facebook. Time and again he tells us, “I don’t care if you believe or not, so why do you care if I do?” 

For starters, that doesn’t make him a very good christian.  That aside, I care because what we believe about the world determines the way we act. The way we act determines the outcome of our species, many other species, and the earth itself. I care very much about this because we’re all in this together.

Inevitably these thoughts and conversations come down to, “Well, what can I do about it?”

Denny has lived most of his life as an activist. He has observed, studied, contemplated, and acted; all in the name of the betterment of humankind. 

I was going to go somewhere else with that. I was going to contrast it with the way I had been living my life inside my bubble. But it strikes me that I was doing the same thing with my life, as are many sincere bible believers today. We just had/have a different set of facts before us on which to act.

Hmmm.

Believers will ask, “Wouldn’t you rather be safe than sorry?”  They suppose that we would all be better off assuming there is a god, so that when we die we can live in eternal bliss. (They also assume we have some ability to believe in things that we don’t believe in, as though it were a switch we could flip.)

Why not turn it around? Why not ask the believers to consider living as though Jesus isn’t coming back, as though this life is all we have, that this world is all we will be able to pass on to our children when we die. How, then, would we live?

Denny did spend his time in a considerably different sort of active, thoughtful way. He poured every ounce of energy he had into making a difference in the world. In a way, after many years, he burned out. He didn’t stop caring—well, not entirely—but he changed focus. Me, I am only just now beginning to see the world the way it really is, to see humankind's possible demise contrasted with our potential. I’m excited, amazed, saddened, outraged, thrilled, afraid, hopeful…

Our conversations have been interesting, to say the least.

A teacher at heart, I always want to know how to apply things practically. How do we take all of these thoughts and put them to good use in our lives? What do we teach our children?

There must be some balance. Ahhh, you knew I was going to say that, didn’t you?

If this life is all we have, both our personal lives and the life of humankind on earth, then why not make the most of it? Why not just enjoy it? There’s no end to the things I find beautiful and just plain enjoyable. I’d need eight lives to cover it all.

But can we balance it with living considerately, with a mind to the future. It’s so cliche, but it really does come down to individuals. If everyone made decisions and lived each day with tomorrow in their sights…  No, it doesn’t seem like much when it’s just you, but it matters. “Just you,” not only makes a difference, you make an impression on others and the effect snowballs.

You don’t need me to tell you all the things you can do to make a difference. If you really can’t think of something, that’s what Google is for. But please, don’t just leave it to someone else. What if all the someone elses decided to leave it to someone else?

Work with me, people. Work and play and enjoy a meaningful meaningless life with me.

Picky Eaters

A possibly culturally insensitive ramble about intentional parenting

My kids are picky eaters.  Most of them.  I was determined they wouldn’t be, but, try as I might, here we are.  Granted, they are probably not as picky as most American kids their ages (three to fourteen), and the odds of serving one meal that pleases all seven of them are less than if there were only two of them, but more often than not we hear a complaint or a simple, “I’ll just go hungry tonight.”

In the past I have worked hard to respect the fact that we all have different tastes and preferences and that sometimes we just don’t feel like eating.  As a stay-at-home mother I have been relatively in tune to my children’s health and well-being; I know what they’re eating and when.  No one is allowed to help themselves to food, they ask for fruit for snacks if they want something mid morning or mid-afternoon, they drink water all day and sometimes milk with meals, and the three meals are generally served at regular intervals.  If, for instance, Royal is quieter than usual and says he doesn’t feel like eating, he probably is coming down with something and it would be foolish to make him eat.  My ex used to make the kids eat everything on their plates and more than one of them threw up their dinner as a result.

It takes discernment to decide if they don’t feel like eating or if they just don’t like a particular food or if they’re just being ornery.  I ask them to try two bites of new foods and if they don’t like it they can go hungry.  For my little ones (three and under, or thereabouts) I’ve been more flexible, allowing them to have a glass of milk and/or piece of homemade wheat bread instead.  Over time we’ve learned that Atira just can’t stomach bell peppers or the texture of quiche, and the same with Blue regarding beans or Mexican-seasoned food, so if I put these foods on the table I also serve something they will eat.

I have allowed the just-go-hungry option recently for the older kids, but the younger ones have joined in on it.  What ends up happening now is that 1/3 of the table’s occupants opt out of the meal every other afternoon or evening and just wait until the next meal, hoping it’s something they like.  Some of them pout about it and we deal with that separately; I don’t want attitudes like that around, not for any reason.  There are two other issues we are concerned about; one is the ungratefulness for the food and the labor of the one who prepared it, another is that more often they are opting out of the more nutritious meals of the day.

Most months I plan ahead, creating a 30-day menu of evening meals (breakfasts are standard—every Tuesday this, every Sunday that, etc.—and lunches are leftovers or whatever easy, simple food we have around).  I would keep it posted on the fridge.  Denny observed that the children looked at the menu and decided to skip a lunch they didn’t like because dinner would be more to their satisfaction.  Or they would ask for snacks in the afternoon, planning to skip dinner.  We took down the menu.  That still didn’t help much.

It’s not like I’m cooking up wild ethnic foods, here; nothing spicy, rarely anything strong-flavored at all.

How do we help these children be grateful for the nutritious meals prepared for them?  We have told them about the children in Africa.  They were unimpressed.

This afternoon we had an issue over lunch.  A benign pasta dish which everyone used to like has fallen out of favor with a couple members of the family.  Pasta, mind you.  A couple more turned up their noses because I added some vegetables to it today.  I decided to offer them a small serving each and, trying to hide my frustration, make them sit at the table until they’d eaten it.  I won’t go into all the details, but one of my older children is having cold pasta for breakfast.

Here’s where having a wonderful man like Denny has made the difference in our home.  With my ex there was no talking sense, only butting heads, with kids caught in the middle if I wasn’t careful.  Certainly no conspiring together to educate the children and help them become better people.  But Denny is thoughtful and considerate.  We discussed the issue at length and came up with a plan.

I put a pot of rice on to cook.  Denny put together a third-world slide-show; starving children living in dreadful conditions.  He mixed up a small bowl of mud and set it aside.  When dinner time rolled around we sat the children down and talked to them about privilege.  We realized that we live in a bubble.  These children really have little idea what is going on outside our community.  I haven’t done a very good job of keeping the world on our radar over the years.  It’s time for that to change.  I don’t know yet what all it will entail, but we started with this tonight.

We played the slideshow and discussed with the children starvation, malnutrition, illness, death, and things we take for granted. It was very somber.  We moved to the table and Denny passed around the bowl of mud, asking the children to imagine being hungry enough to want to fill their bellies with that.  Yes, some of our children are too young to really understand, but they did seem to pick up on the mood and were listening quietly.  Then Denny fetched nine bowls from the cupboard and placed about a third of a cup of cooked brown rice in each one.  No butter, no salt, no soy sauce, no eating utensils.  We ate with our fingers and no one complained.  Justin, the youngest, looked a bit put off, but eventually ate with no complaints.

When we had finished eating we talked a little bit more about nutrition and being hungry.  Denny asked the children to look across the table at a sibling and imagine him or her as thin and sickly as the children in the photos. That seemed to really affect them.  It affected me.  Tears in my eyes and voice trembling, I told them that tonight, when they stretch out in their clean beds, cozy and safe, their tummies rumbling, to please not be upset with us, but to really think about the privileges they enjoy every day.  I asked them to please, please never again look at the food on our table and complain or turn away a nutritious meal because it’s just not to their liking.


How culturally insensitive is all this?  I couldn’t say.  I don’t for a moment feel that our actions in any way benefitted the world’s starving children. That was in no way our intention; a silly notion.  Actually, I feel what we did was a tad on the ostentatious side.  How can a considerate person not feel that way when comparing their lifestyle to that of the underprivileged?  The unprivileged?  Using images of unfortunate people and situations as props for my own goals rather left me feeling painfully white, sickeningly rich, and somewhat ashamed.  I think we made an impression on the children, though it won’t last without some continued education.  I think we managed wrap up the meal with humility, not pride, but maybe even that sentiment smacks of pride.  How do you sort out these feelings?  Is there anything we can actually do to help starving children in Africa or elsewhere?  If we reach out, will it be to improve their lives or to assuage the guilt of sitting down to a balanced meal at home?