Silent Screams (and other odd sounds)

This is what I'm thinking RIGHT NOW. It may not be what I'm thinking tomorrow.

Author Archives: seemeye


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Is Hate the new Love?

imagesD9HTWOUP“Hate one another as I have hated you” has become the new “Love one another as I have loved you.”  Somewhere along the line, the doctrine of Christianity had become muddied with what is and is not biblical.  If memory serves me correctly, the Old Testament showed us what the letter of the law was and the New Testament shows us what the heart of the law is today.  The Messiah came to fulfill the law; a law that humans could never keep perfectly, but Jesus, being perfect, was able to perfect and fulfill the whole law for us.  He was beaten for that law, was crucified for that law, hung on a cross for that law, had nails driven into His hands and feet for that law so that we, as mere mortal humans, could be set free from the heavy burden of the law.  He took that law to the cross with him giving us the perfect heart of the law which is, in fact, Jesus Himself.

In the Old Testament, God laid down 10 commandments in stone that His people were to follow.  In the New Testament, God took those 10 commandments and consolidated them into what he said encompassed all the commandments – love.  Today, there must be words between the lines that I can not read.  Somewhere in the Bible it must say, “We should love everyone except those who have different belief from ours, except those who have a different sexual orientation than ours, except those who have  a different socio-economic status than ours, except those who are fat, skinny, addicts, old, young, mentally ill, or to put it more simply, we should love everyone except those who are just plain different from us.”  It must say that in the Bible because that is what so many “Christians” are spewing.  Long forgotten is the loving kindness Jesus spoke of when he went to the cross to die for all of us who were then sinners and yet he loved us and sent a prayer up to His Father asking Him to forgive us because we know not what we do.

Why do I write these things?  I write them because I am saddened by the hatred that spews from the mouth of many who profess to be Christians.  A true Christian is a follower of Christ, I don’t remember Christ spitting hatred on those who were already in sin.  If I am not mistaken, he sat and ate dinner with those very people who are appalling to those who profess their Christianity.

 

 


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Goodnight Misses

“It was 2 months yesterday since my brother last experienced her warm breath on his face but if he closed his eyes he could almost feel it now.  Her dark face was so expressive.  She looked at him with love and adoration even when he didn’t want anything to do with her, but she would wait patiently for his mood to change because she loved him that much.  She knew that all she had to do was give him “that look” and he would respond to her lovingly.  She knew she had that power over him – that power that not many had.  He longed for that look now, just one more time.

For the first time yesterday, he shared with me the picture he had taken of her and placed lovingly in a frame; the picture I imagine that has a special place next to his bed. The picture reflected perfectly the love she had for him and as he looked at the photo momentarily before handing it to me, his reflection could be seen in her eyes.  A shared love.

As I touched the framed picture I remembered my own love.  The giant man with the red hair.  I clearly remembered – no felt – the heartbreak of the last time I felt his warm body next to mine or looked into his eyes.  I dare not close my eyes now or I too, like my brother now, would be overcome with a rush of emotion that I didn’t want to feel; that I wish I had never had to experience.  My love has been gone years and my pain, at times, is just as great as the day he left this earth.  His sweet Lucy has been gone two months; his pain is fresh, cutting deep to his soul.

In the beginning, when all we think of is our hurt and anguish at their departure, we lose sight of how they filled our days with joy and laughter.  When we are once again able to remember through our pain and tears how they loved to cuddle against us in the summer during unbearable heat or didn’t want to cuddle in the early morning chill, the pain intensifies.  Our thoughts scream out, “when will my thoughts bring pleasure instead of this unbearable heartache?”

My brother and I spoke of Lucy as I held her picture in my hands.  As I stared at her picture, he told me she loved to cuddle in the morning when she first woke up but when she went to bed in the evening, she wanted little to do with him.  She wanted to find her own place in the bed and curl up to sleep.  He smiled when he said he would “smack her on the ass and say ‘Goodnight Missess.'”

I handed his picture of Lucy back to him.  Gingerly he took it from my hands, touching it as if it were almost sacred.  His gaze was intense as he studied her picture as if he were seeing it for the first time.  Behind his horn-rimmed glasses his eyes turned soft and filled with unshed tears as he gazed at her picture before relinquishing it from his hands.  As he placed her picture on the table beside him her turned to me and gave me a forced smile.  Without words, we both knew what each of us was thinking.  To me, the pain was evident on his face, was my pain as evident?

My brother, like me, has lost a life that invaded his very being and soul – this life was a part of him.  His love for Lucy was strong and real.  His grief for her bringing him unexpectantly to his knees.  From most of the world this grief will remain hidden because it is not human, it is a bond that exists only with man’s best friend.


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It’s NOT Color; It’s Behavior

In light of the recent George Zimmerman verdict the issue of racism and discrimination has once again made its way to the fore-front and reared its ugly head.  The opinions of many are being plastered over almost every social media.  Once again lines are being drawn attempting to separate what should be a cohesive nation.  “United we stand, divided we fall,” is just as true now as it was when John Dickinson wrote it in 1768.

“Then join hand in hand, brave Americans all,
By uniting we stand, by dividing we fall;
In so righteous a cause let us hope to succeed,
For heaven approves of each generous deed.”

Sadly enough, even after 200 years, the concept of brotherly love and kindness is lost on so many.  Discrimination is alive and well in America.  The trials of both George Zimmerman and O.J.Simpson caused racial uprising.  The “race card” was seen in both trials just at opposite ends of the spectrum.  If racial injustice was seen in one trial, then we must conclude that it was equally unjust in both trials.  I did not sit in on the trials of either Zimmerman or Simpson.  I was not privy to the details that the members of each jury sat in on but I have to believe that the jurors did the best they could with the information they received.  I may or may not agree with the verdicts but as I stated previously, I was not there day after day listening to the witnesses.  I was only given the bits and pieces the media fed to me.  Realistically, I can not make an informed decision on either trial; the only thing I can do is offer my opinion just as everybody else can offer their opinion. 

Now, there are many statistics one can find concerning white on white crime, black on black crime, white on black crime and black on white crime.  What is the real purpose of stating those statistics?  I can’t help but wonder if the reason those statistics are readily stated is to instill fear and keep our nation separated.  The one statistic that all races share is this:  most victims of crime know their assailant.  That’s right.  Black or white, generally the victim knows the perpetrator. 

Amazingly enough, many of those that cry out that they are the victims of discrimination (black, white, yellow, or polka dot) are the same ones who discriminate against others with an “acceptable” form of discrimination.  In many social circles it is “acceptable” to make fun of or shun people who may be “different” than the main stream.  Fat people are discriminated every day.  If you are fat and black or fat and white, you are an equal target to negative comments and snide laughter.  Although this country wants to say that “gay is okay” our actions indicate otherwise.  Dykes and lipstick lesbians as well as Queens are still faggots and easy marks for ridicule without people being “appalled” at the name-calling.  These are but a few examples but the list goes on. 

We, as a nation, must move beyond playing the race card and institute the human card for all of mankind equally.  As Bill Cosby so wonderfully states:  It is NOT about color; it is about behavior.  This statement is true about all people!

Honest Bill Cosby Tells
US Blacks The Truth
5-21-8 

‘They’re standing on the corner and they can’t speak English. I can’t even talk the way these people talk…
Why you ain’t
Where you is
What he drive
Where he stay
Where he work
Who you be…
And I blamed the kid until I heard the mother talk.
And then I heard the father talk.
Everybody knows it’s important to speak English except these knuckleheads. You can’t be a doctor with that kind of crap coming out of your mouth.
In fact, you will never get any kind of job making a decent living. People marched and were hit in the face with rocks to get an education, and now we’ve got these knuckleheads walking around.
 
The lower economic people are not holding up their end in this deal.
 
These people are not parenting. They are buying things for kids. $500 sneakers for what??
And they won’t spend $200 for Hooked on Phonics.
I am talking about these people who cry when their son is standing there in an orange suit.
Where were you when he was 2??
Where were you when he was 12??
Where were you when he was 18 and how come you didn’t know that he had a pistol??
And where is the father?? Or, who is his father?
People putting their clothes on backward, isn’t that a sign of something gone wrong?
People with their hats on backward, pants down around the crack, isn’t that a sign of something?
Or, are you waiting for Jesus to pull his pants up?
Isn’t it a sign of something when she has her dress all the way up and got all type of needles [piercing] going through her body?
What part of Africa did this come from??
We are not Africans. Those people are not Africans. They don’t know a thing about Africa .
With names like Shaniqua, Taliqua and Mohammed and all of that crap, and all of them are in jail.
Brown or black versus the Board of Education is no longer the white person’s problem.
We have got to take the neighborhood back.
People used to be ashamed. Today, a woman has eight children with eight different ‘husbands’ — or men or whatever you call them now.
We have millionaire football players who cannot read.
We have million-dollar basketball players who can’t write two paragraphs.
We, as black folks have to do a better job. Someone working at Wal- Mart with seven kids… you are hurting us.
We have to start holding each other to a higher standard.
We cannot blame the white people any longer.
It’s NOT about color…
It’s about behavior !!!
 
– Dr. William Henry ‘Bill’ Cosby, Jr., Ed.D.


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A Sex Offender Lives Here

Sex Offender Lives Here

According to an article written by Bryan Robinson of ABC News, Judge J. Manuel Banales of Texas reviewed the records of all sex offenders placed on probation in his court in the last decade and ordered 14 of the offenders to put up a 2 foot wide, 18 inch tall placard that reads, “Danger: Registered Sex Offender Lives Here” in their front yard. The signs also contains a list of phone numbers to report suspicious behavior. In addition to the signs, the offenders were also given bumper stickers for their cars and portable signs with suction cups to put in car rear windows when they were riding in someone else’s auto. According to Banales, “These laws [sex offender notification laws] are designed to protect the community.” Banales went on to say that “Children are the most vulnerable of any of us. Many of the victims of these crimes never get over it. The whole idea is to protect the community, protect the children, and if targeting these offenders is what’s necessary than that’s what we’ll have to do.” Every state and federal government have “Megan’s law” statutes mandating community notification if sex offenders move into a neighborhood. While sex offenders names, addresses, photos and criminal records are available on state sexual offenders Web sites, Banales thought that this was inadequate because not everyone reads newspapers or has Internet access. (http://abcnews.go.com/US/story?id+90496&page=1, Bryan Robinson)

Recently, more than a few people on social media sites have been publishing the sign that Judge J. Manuel Banales has deemed to be necessary to keep our communities safe. While I understand that almost all of us find sex crimes despicable and would like to find a way to make sure these crimes do not happen in our country let alone in our communities, I’m not sure I can get on the bandwagon with the “sign” campaign. Sex crimes are certainly heinous and spending the legal amount of time in a penitentiary is certainly warranted, just as prison time is warranted to someone who has taken a life. On a basic level, I think most of us would be able to agree that whether a person is actually murdered and dead or raped, beaten and left alive, both have lost their “lives.”

A murderer, depending on the degree, can “do his time” in confinement and be released a rehabilitated man to live among the general population; not so a sexual offender. A sexual offender “does his time” and then is released into the general population branded by a web site and possibly a sign placed in his front yard. A sex offender’s neighbors receive letters warning them of the potential danger of living next to a sexual preditor; one does not receive the same notification if a murderer happens to move into your neighborhood. I understand that most believe that a sexual preditor can never be completely rehabilitated. If that is true, and I believe the research supports such a belief, does placing a sign in a front yard keep them from committing these sexual crimes? Maybe, just maybe, the only real safe place to be from a sexual preditor is in the neighborhood with displays the sign; certainly any intelligent sex offender (and most are intelligent) would leave the vicinity of their visual brand. If the courts of law deem that a murderer is a threat to the population at large, that person, more than likely, is never released from prison. If the threat of the sexual preditor is great, shouldn’t the same safe-guard apply?

Please, do not think that I wish the offenders rights supercede the rights of the victim. Not only no, but hell no! The rights of the innocent should always prevail. The problem with saying (and believing that) is that there are more than “one” set of innocents. What about the innocent family members (mothers, fathers, wives, children, sisters, brothers) who have this sign displayed in their front yard for their neighbors to see? What was their crime? What did they do to deserve this punishment? Does merely loving a person who has committed a hideous crime automatically sentence them to the same punishment as the one who actually committed the crime?

No, I am not a victim of a sexual crime. No, my family has not been the victim of any sexual crimes. I also know that since I do not have first hand knowledge of such a thing, that some may think my opinion holds no value. Does one really have to experience a situation to have a valid opinion? Maybe, maybe not. I hold the opinion that there are some things I never want to experience.

I know I take the road less traveled on this subject. I know my opinion is not a popular one. I am sorry if that offends you but I hope my words have at least made you think beyond the popular opinion.


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The Way It Used to Be…..

I have to admit it used to irritate me a little bit when my parents used to say, “I remember when …..” followed by some better way of doing things or how much better the “olden days” were.  I remember saying to them, “Come on, things couldn’t have been better, you had the depression, the “big” war  and you didn’t even have colored TV.  Yep, those “good old days” must have been magnificent,” I would say sarcastically as I rolled my eyes and vowed silently never to say anything so ridiculous to my own children if I ever had any.

As time would have it, I grew up and started to hear myself echo the same words I used to hear my parents say long ago.  Of course, when I was in early adulthood, I would rationalize when I said those things thinking, “at least when I say them, they are true.”  Life has a way of sneaking up on you when you are not looking and by the time you are in middle adulthood you suddenly realize that what you are saying is exactly the same things your parents said way back when you didn’t believe them.  Life is funny like that.

So, you might ask yourself, what brought on this line of thinking? Strangely enough, the purchase and installation of new appliances has forced me to see things the way my parents probably did when they said, “I remember when…”

Recently, my dishwasher and microwave went kaput which forced me to start looking for these new appliances.  Being brainwashed by powerful advertisement, I basically knew what I wanted when I went out to window shop for what I thought would be a simple task of comparative price shopping and the purchase of my new appliances.  Of course, nothing is ever as simple as it seems and the simple task of picking out appliances and having someone install them has left a bitter taste in my mouth when it comes to big business.

When I was a young adult, when my appliances broke down, I went to local small businessmen who made their livelihood being reputable people who needed and wanted your business to stay afloat.  More than likely, these businessmen lived in your neighborhood and you went to school with their children.   A deal was made with a handshake until the paperwork could be finished.  More than likely your appliances were delivered and installed (free of charge) the same day.  The guarantee you received was backed by reputation and you didn’t have to pay extra for it.

As I’m sure you know, small business has been largely replaced by the big business chains who sell appliances at much more affordable prices.  These big chains price match so that shopping is really made easy.  All you have to do is go to the chain you want to give your money to and tell them what you want and how much you would save if you bought it at Store B and the price is matched!  What is lost when the big chains take your money and the small businessman can’t afford to compete anymore?  What is gained by purchasing appliances at lower prices?

Recently I have found out what is gained by purchasing from a large chain.  I gained aggravation.  I went to the retail store just to purchase an appliance.  Here is a little of how the conversation went.

Me:  I need a new dishwasher.  I would like the new Frigidaire dishwasher.  Do you have that?

Store:  Why yes we do.  It is right over here and it is only $……

Me:  Do you have it in black?

Store:  Yes it does come in black but we have to order it.  Can you hold on a minute while I take this call?

Me:  Sure.

Store:  (after 5 minutes).  I’m sorry, I had to take that call.

Me:  It’s okay.  Now, about the dishwasher.

Store:  Which one did you want again?

Me:  The new Frigidaire.

Store:  Oh yes, that’s right.  Have you seen it yet?

Me: Yes, you just showed me.

Store:  That’s right.  I’m sorry.  I talk to so many people in a day it is hard to keep things straight sometimes.  I am expected to do so much.  Much more than I used to do.  To tell you the truth, I just started in this department a few days ago and I’m still trying to get used to things.  (Phone rings)  Do you mind if I take this call.

Me:  No.

Store:  Ok.  I’m sorry that took so long.

Me:  It’s okay.  I think I’m going to look elsewhere.  Thank you for your time.

Off I go to another big retail store and the conversation goes something like this:

Store:  Can I help you?

Me:  Yes.  Do you have the new Frigidaire dishwasher?  Store B has it for $….

Store:  Yes we do.  We can match their price.

Me.  Good.

Store:  Now, is your current dishwasher hardwired or a plug-in?

Me:  I don’t know.

Store:  You have to know that information.

Me:  What is the difference?

Store:  If it is hardwired we won’t install it.  You have to have a general contractor to install it.

Me:  ….and I would have to pay for that?

Store:  Why yes.

Me:  How would I know if it is hardwired or not?

Store:  You have to pull the dishwasher out.

Me:  Really?

Store:  What we can do is deliver the dishwasher to your house (for a fee of course) and pull out your old dishwasher.  It if is hardwired, we will leave the new dishwasher there and set you up with a general contractor to install your dishwasher.

Me:  (Getting agitated)  Let me see if I have this straight.  You will sell me this dishwasher for a great price…..but you will not install it if my dishwasher is hardwired.  You will deliver this dishwasher for a fee and leave it in the middle of my kitchen if, when you pull out my old dishwasher, you find that it is hardwired.  Let’s say it is hardwired.  I take it that you will not disconnect the old dishwasher then.  So now I have a old dishwasher and a new dishwasher in the middle of my kitchen while I wait for you to hire a general contractor to come in and install my dishwasher.  Is that correct?

Store:  That’s usually the way it’s done ma’am.

Me:  …and I have to pay for the installation.  Is that correct?

Store:  Umm…yes.

Me:  …and tell me again how much this dishwasher is costing me.

Store:  All the major chains work like this ma’am.  We are no different from the others.

Me:  …and that makes me want to purchase a dishwasher from your chain how……?

How irritating it is to purchase a new appliance only to find that you have to spend the money saved to hire a contractor to finish the deal.  How can big business get away with selling something they don’t install?  When did we, as the consumers, allow this to happen?

I’ll tell you when I allowed this to happen.  I allowed it the very first time I purchased an appliance from someone other than my local businessman.  I have no one to blame but myself.


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Tired after a long day of work, feet aching and body weary, Rosa Parks rested her bones on the seat of a bus only to be told that she was “less than” all the “whites” riding the bus and she had to give her seat up to a white person.  Perhaps out of exhaustion, perhaps out of just being plain tired of being considered “less than” other humans, Rosa held fast and refused to stand.  Rosa sat and started a movement that could not be stopped; a movement that should not have even been an issue.  Rosa was a God-created woman who bled the same color as any other white, yellow, red, or black person.  When will the human race realize that each of us are humans who hurt, who cry, who bleed, and who love?

I can’t help who and what I love.  In fact, I pray daily that God will instill in me the capacity to love as He loved.  I don’t know for sure, but I’m thinking that the God that I hold dear to me loves mankind.  The God I hold dear is no respecter of persons; the God I love loves me just as I am.  I can’t believe that if God loves me as I am, he can not or will not love others just as they are.   God loves murderers and thieves just as He loves me; God loves heterosexuals and homosexuals alike.  He loves all these people as equally as He loves His church.

Now, the time has come, that we must petition the government to tell us it is okay who we love, how we love and who we can or cannot marry.  This issue, as was the issue with Rosa Parks, should not even be an issue.  It should not be “black” rights or “gay” rights, it should be “equal HUMAN rights.”  There are so many other “issues” that demand our attention.  Perhaps focusing on hunger, education, and our elderly and disabled would serve our resources better than legislating something that does not affect anyone but the two people involved.  The only marriage that impacts me is mine.

Long ago, a man started a revolution when he decided that Jews were not fit to live.  Hilter herded these people into boxcars to haul them to the ovens of ignorance.  It was ignorance that lead to the annihilation of many HUMAN Jews.  This man, who was adored by a multitude, also murdered Catholics, elderly, and homosexuals.  The legislation of today is not calling for the holocaust of human life, but before the killing of millions of Jews started, legislation was enacted to keep them “under control.”  Please don’t tell me “it can’t happen here” because it did.  It was not too long ago that black men and women were whipped, hung by trees until dead and crosses were burned.  In fact, the KKK is alive and well right here in this land that we love.

Out of ignorance, we feared educating the blacks, out of ignorance we allowed the annihilation of Jews before we said stop, and now, out of ignorance, this nation does not want to allow two souls who are bound by love to be bound legally.  The things that “mainstream” marriages take for granted, such as being covered by your spouses medical insurance, social security benefits, death benefits, and even being called a spouse and thus a family member, are being withheld because two people, who happen to be the same sex, found love.  The thought of excluding people because of something like being in love feels wrong to me on so many levels.

I will leave you with the thoughts of a man much wiser than me.

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out–
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out–
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out–
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me–and there was no one left to speak for me.  (Martin Niemöller)


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Bad Things Only Happen to……

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Bad things only happen in “bad” neighborhoods.  People who rob, kill and rape are only from poverty stricken areas.  Only inner city areas have brutal crimes.  If a child goes to a good school and participates in sports, they will never harm or be harmed.  The nice boy, girl or child next door could never harm anyone.  The time for delusional thoughts is over.  The war of all people, of all neighborhoods, of all schools has trespassed  into my back yard while I was dreaming of white picket fences.

Friday evening may find most of a community watching the high school football team as young athletes run down the field toward the goal posts and victory only to party hardy on Saturday night at the expense of a young girl who had been drugged, awakening the next morning with her brutal rape filling the airwaves of a social media.  Young lives, innocent and not innocent, will never be the same again.

A young boy enters a high school cafeteria donning a gun where students are resting from their morning studies and catching up with the usual high school social pleasantries.   Suddenly, a spray of bullets rip through the chatter; the distinctive sulfur smell filling the air as the students scurry for cover only to see their classmates fall to their death in front of their eyes.  Not one of those students will be the same again.

A young man engages in a relationship with a young woman.  The dating scene between the two of them starts off pleasant at first but eventually fizzles out.  The young woman begins to obsess about the young man; her mind perhaps changing slowly from affection to pure jealously ends up leaving him in a pool of his own blood.

Two pre-teen boys sneak up on a mother and her infant son demanding money while waving guns.  When the money was not forthcoming because the mother had none to give; the young boys threaten to kill the infant if no money is given over and they follow through on their threat, leaving a mother to mourn her dead child.

These stories are a few of the “news-worthy” items that sounded from my television just this morning.  None of these events occurred in “bad neighborhoods.”  None of these events occurred in poverty stricken neighborhoods.  None of these events happened in bad schools or inner city areas.  They all took place in your back yard.  They all took place by the child who lives next door. 

 

 

 


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Which Face of God is Right?

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When I was a child, my version of God was a man with long hair dressed in bright white robes with his hands outstretched in a seemingly loving manner ready to slap me silly if I did anything wrong.  The God of my youth was strict, religious, and I was so unworthy to be in His presence.  He loved righteousness and I was so not righteous.  I was a sinner.  I was born a sinner.  I had no hope of ever obtaining the goodness that God required.

Since I thought I had no hope of ever pleasing God, I lived my life the best I could knowing that I was not one of the “chosen” to live an eternal life with God.  Although this was my thoughts about God, I was always searching for a “loophole” for Him to like me….to love me.  I found many loopholes but none that lasted.  Once again, I felt unworthy of God’s love.  The proof that I was unworthy was the “lot” in life God had given me.  I was ugly, I wasn’t financially blessed and my mother was not in the best of health.  I was blind to the blessing that surrounded me.  Gratitude was elusive.  Even though I knew I was unworthy, I still searched, even more diligently, for a loophole into God’s heart.

I thought about why God was not working in my life and I had to ask myself a real question.  Image

Who is my God.  I didn’t like the answer.  My God was not who I thought he was.  My God was materialistic.  Since my God didn’t bless me financially I had to admit that my God could possibly be…..money.  I shivered.

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I didn’t like the revelation so I discarded it immediately.  It was a lie.  I didn’t have to accept it and I wasn’t going to accept; but in the back of my mind I wondered if it could be true.  I cried out to God to give me a more pure vision of God.  I begged God to give me a vision of Him that I could live with….a God that was there for ME.  My only desire was to have a closer relationship with God.  I wanted a God that I could love, respect and trust.  If God was so powerful, why did I trust my car to stop when I stepped on the brake pedal more than I trusted God to care for me.  Then it hit me.  In my youth, I had put God in a box and I had never let him out.  The God of my understanding couldn’t work for me because I didn’t allow Him to do so.  The box I put him in kept getting smaller and smaller and my cry to have Him work in my life was large.  He couldn’t do anything for me because I wouldn’t allow Him to do so.  I had made my God too small.Image

Today my God no longer fits in any box.  He can not be contained.  He is the first thing I think of in the morning and I am more than willing…in fact eager… to get on my knees each morning and each night to express my gratitude and love to him.  I am more than willing to humble myself in all things because He knows what I want but more importantly, He knows what I NEED.  I don’t have the entire picture of what my life is to be but HE does and I trust Him to do for me what I can not do for myself. 

My God is spiritual…not religious.  My God is everything to everybody.  My God had many names and is no respecter of persons.  He loves those that call Him Allah, Buddha as well as God.  He loves the righteous as well as the sinner.  His love is endless; caring for the murderer, homosexual, liar as well as the “godly.”  He is all in all.  What more could I ask for in a Higher Power?

The God of your understanding may not be the same as mine; and that is fine…in fact that is the beauty of a God that is so powerful and crosses all barriers. 

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Hats Off to the Working Mom

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I entered the work force long before my children were born and stayed in the work force long after they were born.  I have worked weekends, holidays and birthdays.  I could be found at work caring for other people’s children while my mother watched my sick children at home.  I have worked the grave yard shift so I could attend all those “special” school events.  I have gone hours upon hours without sleep so I could attend a softball game or a band concert.  I caught a few hours of sleep here and there on the fly so I could be “in attendance” in my child’s life.  I have been criticized for being a working mother and I’ve been told that my child’s life would suffer because I chose to go to work.  I’ve been told that a “good” mother sacrifices her needs and wants to stay at home with her child

Hmm.  I struggled with the guilt of being a working mother for years and years.  I felt guilty when I couldn’t attend the Parent Teacher Organization meetings and I felt less than a “good mother” when I couldn’t be a Home Room Mother for my child. I felt the pang of guilt when I had to decline from being a chaperone for field trips and I felt a little “different” when I attended school functions dressed in my scrubs while some of the other mothers looked as if they were going to a high-class restaurant.  When I look back on my appearance, I saw me without make-up, my hair a little messy, and my work shoes costing more than than the stiletto hills of my peers (but looking far less classy), and my fingernail short and not painted.  I saw the other mothers as beautiful models who wore designer clothes, fine perfume and well manicured toes.  Yes, my perception was skewed.  I just didn’t see it that way back then.  I was programmed to believe that mothers stayed at home and catered to their children.

Although I was a horrible mother for working during my children’s formative years, I was also a “fool” for carting them and their friends to and from school functions, softball games, soccer games, athletic practice, school dances and chaperoned parties.  My peers who stayed at home to care for their children did not seem to have time to drive their children to and fro to various activities.  It seemed that the schedules of the parents who did not work seemed to have multiple conflicts with their children’s activities.

Although being a taxi for my children was inconvenient at times, I was more than glad to do it.  I always (to my knowledge at least) knew where my children were and what they were doing. I learned that being the taxi driver to a bunch of children allowed me to fall into the background which allowed the children to say more than they normally would have if they remembered I was driving.  Out of guilt, and out of love, I wanted to do what I could for my child to be a part of their life.

My children are now adults and I have had the time to reflect on the damage I have done to myself and my children.  First I will address the damage I have done to myself.  In feeling guilty about my career, I conceded that I was a bad mother.  Looking back, I was not the type of mother who actually wanted or would have liked to be a Room Mother.  I preferred to interact with children on my terms not the terms of others.  This interaction was more beneficial to all involved.  It made me happy and I hope, it made them happy as well.  How did my working adversely affect my children.  I’ve thought and thought about that question.  Being a working mother made my children more independent and enabled them to make decisions on their own. Yes, they made poor decisions at times; but those poor decisions enabled them to learn and make better decisions in the future.  To be honest, I can’t see where my working harmed them; in fact it molded them into adults that could trouble shoot and make good decisions.

I have often asked myself, “Why did you work when your children were young?”  That answer is easy.  I needed to work.  I didn’t have the luxury to be a stay at home mother.  My children needed food and clothing which would have been sparse if I stayed at home.  Working enabled my children to participate in activities they would have not been able to participate in had I been a stay at home mother.  Working enabled my children to pursue activities which they may not have been able to participate.

In a perfect world, I probably would have been a stay at home mother because that is what society thinks I should have done to be able to label myself as a good mother and role model.  Now that I am older and I have the luxury to look back on my life I don’t need labels. I can honestly say that I was and am a good role model BECAUSE I was a working mother.  Working enabled my children to grow into productive citizens who value others as much as themselves.

Each mother needs to do what is right for them.  Each mother needs to search inside of themselves and ask the question, “Am I doing the best I can with what I have?”

Working mothers juggle life.  My hat goes off to those mothers who work endlessly at juggling being in the work force and managing a home.  Loving the child…..that’s the easy part.  Don’t feel guilty.  Know that what you do is as close to being a super hero as you can get.