Archive for the ‘Culture’ Category

Occupy Between The Lines: What The OWS Movement Is Really (Or Should Be) About

If you’re looking for a way to ruin your Thanksgiving weekend, cause tension among your peers, and simultaneously raise the blood pressure of everyone around you within ear shot, all you have to do is say this simple incantation:

Occupy Wall Street

You felt a shiver, didn’t you?  It seems that any talk of the OWS Movement gets so heated that I’m starting to believe that every time it’s mentioned either an angel loses its wings or God kills a baby kitten.

But I’m going to talk about it anyway.

Seldom do I find things that give me such an array of mixed emotions.  When I read anything about OWS, I feel repulsed, curious, entertained, annoyed, and (hate me if you must) inspired.  OWS intrigues me because no one really knows what it’s all about.  Every news commentary on either side of the political spectrum has an opinion about as accurate as a drunk and blind archer.  Heck, the people actually protesting don’t really have much of a clue.  It’s like a Seinfeld episode – it’s a show about nothing.

And that’s what makes OWS so important.

The best way to describe the OWS is to first say what it’s not.  The reason why OWS is confusing and often times hypocritical is because it is viewed in very black and white terms.  But it can’t be viewed this way.  OWS is really not about the poor vs. the rich, the liberal vs. the conservative, capitalism vs. socialism, or the hippies vs. citizens who shower daily.  It’s unfortunate that we tend to put things in one of two camps: right or wrong.  You just can’t with this one. Love them or hate them, this protest is and will be completely lost on those who think that objectively.

OWS also really has nothing to do with politics or government or even big businesses – at least not directly.  OWS is about this discontent that people can’t shake.  We all see it in the corner of the room.  It’s like an elephant but it’s a different type of animal altogether.  It’s a species that most of us haven’t been able to define because the language of our society doesn’t allow for the words to classify it.  And we all feel it – both the 99% and the 1%.

The OWS protest is just a manifestation of this discontent.

We all have these vital needs that cause absolute discontent if they’re not met.  We all need to feel connected to our community.  We all need to have really deep relationships that go beyond Facebook.  We all need to have purpose and contribute with our talents and gifts.  We all need to feel like we’re understood.

Here’s a big one: We all need to…be needy on others.  Believe it or not, dependency is a virtue.  We are wired to want and need and long to rely on others.  And we all were also all designed to want and need and long to meet other’s needs.  This transaction is the very definition of love.

But we’ve created a society where these things are marginalized and undervalued.  We have defined success as being independent and to be in a position where every want can be purchased.  The winner of the rat race is someone that can just pay for everything they need without relying on human connection and the gifts and contributions of those they love.

This is where I tend to disagree with many of the protesters.  Capitalism really isn’t to blame.  Capitalism and consumerism are just the symptoms; it’s us who are the problems.  Capitalism has done a world of good in productivity and advancement.  But it’s you and me that have allowed it to become our master.  We are the ones who have believed our own lies. We have duped ourselves into thinking that social status is determined by all the stuff we have.  We’ve convinced ourselves that money really does buy happiness, that we neeeeeed the new iPad 46; that “if only I can get (insert something purchasable here) then life will be better”.   The ironic thing is, all these consumables aren’t a bad thing. The blame lies in us for allowing them to become the measure of our quality of life.

This discontent is something that cannot and will not be solved in any change of government or socioeconomic method.  Socialism is not the answer.  Trickledown economics is not the answer.   This discontent will not change with Obama or Romney or Pelosi or Bush or even Reagan coming back from the dead.

The change begins with you.  The change begins with me.

Sure there are some serious objective problems that need to be fixed with our government and economy.  Yes, we should seriously figure out what to do with taxes and corporations and CEOs who lay off 50 workers and then give themselves another million dollars on their Christmas bonus.  But the real change will come when one day we can say, “We are the 99% who CHOOSE to be defined by the talents and resources we contribute and the love we give to all around us.  We CHOOSE to not let ourselves be enslaved to things that are bigger, better and more shiny.  We are not forced, but CHOOSE to live within our means and redistribute our own personal wealth, out of love, to those who need it.  We CHOOSE to view each human as a soul that has invaluable worth and thereby worthy of love and connection.  We CHOOSE to live by the maxim that doesn’t say that more for you is less for me, but says that more for you is more for me.”

This is what OWS is about.  If it’s not, then that’s what it should be about.  Changing Wall Street might help with the symptom, but not with the root of the problem.  The real change starts when we decide to rebel against ourselves. The real revolution begins when we decide to bring back our humanity and start meeting our needs of dependency, community, purpose and love.

Viva la revolution.

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Marriage Is A Beautiful Death

Sometimes you read a poem or hear a song or experience something so profound that you have to drop everything you’re doing (in this case, homework) and share it.  Ironically enough, I wrote a blog last week about how Pat Robertson was missing the point about marriage.  Today, Sarah left her Facebook open and a friend of hers linked the song above.  It’s called “Dancing In The Mine Fields” by Andrew Peterson.  When it comes to marriage, Andrew Peterson gets it.

“I do” are the two most famous last words
The beginning of the end
But to lose your life for another I’ve heard
Is a good place to begin
‘Cause the only way to find your life
Is to lay your own life down
And I believe it’s an easy price
For the life that we have found

This is the beauty of marriage: Marriage is death.  It’s death to self.  It’s death to the letter I.  Our culture has turned individualism into a virtue and that model just doesn’t work with the model of marriage.  This death is hard and it takes a lot of work.  But the reality is that two people that give themselves completely to each other, are completely vulnerable to each other; that die to each other will have the most joyous and unbreakable relationship on the face of this planet.  This is counter-cultural.  It’s a paradox to logic.  In the book of Ephesians, Paul calls it a “mystery”.  What he means is this is something that we wouldn’t have figured out with our human logic.  This is a model that was given by God.

By I’ll stop talking now.  Listen to the song – then go hug your spouse.

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What Pat Robertson Taught Me About Marriage (Nothing)

Oh Pat Robertson, when will you learn?

Pat Robertson has been found yet again saying something that has made the masses wonder why on Earth this guy still has a following.  On a recent show, Pat Robertson gave advice to a viewer “who has a friend” that is cheating on his wife who has Alzheimer’s.    Pat’s advice: Divorce her and start all over again, just make sure she has custodial care.

I feel that anytime Mr. Robertson opens his mouth, my IQ lowers a bit. But that didn’t happen this time.  His words, while I strongly disagree with, gave me some good observations about marriage and where our ethics lie.

Let me first start off by saying that I hotly disagree with Pat’s advice.  I believe that his advice is wrong on so many levels.  I take the vow of “…in sickness and health, until death do you part” very literally and very seriously.  Pat talks about this on his show as well and defends him claim by saying that Alzheimer’s is a form of death.  Well that may make some logical sense, this interpretation of “death” opens up way too many slippery slopes. What makes Pat Robertson qualified to make this claim?  How do we know everything that goes on in the mind of someone with Alzheimer’s?  If we allow for this to be death, what other things can we justify?  Where do we draw the line?

Second, Pat’s advice is completely self-centered and shockingly against Biblical principles of marriage that talk about self-sacrifice and two becoming one flesh.  Marriage isn’t about what you can get out of it, it’s about what you can give to the person you’ve chosen to love more than anything else in this world.  The moment you start making guidelines and loopholes for getting out of a marriage, you’ve completely missed its point.

And third, if you’re the type that believes in a soul, how can we just easily divorce someone on the basis of them being “dead” if the soul is still there?  If my wife had Alzheimer’s, the functioning part of some of her body might be dead, but there is still so much that is alive, including the divine spark within her.

When I first heard this story, I found myself discussing it with people whom I greatly respect that disagreed with me.  One mentioned a story about how a man did divorce his wife and married another but they both – husband and new wife – live with her and take care of her together.  Another mentioned that it’s hard to give a point of view on this when we haven’t been in that situation.  Perhaps we might be more willing to understand if we could feel the man’s aching desire for companionship.  And these are really good points.  And then I realized that I was looking at this from a different ethical structure than my friends.  Where I am more principle minded and feel that you should do the right thing every time, no questions asked, my friends were approaching it from a more consequential view that said  if it’s not hurting the wife, then why shouldn’t the man be happy?  Both points of view make for a good argument and maybe there’s no fully correct point of view – just different approaches to the same metaphorical chess game.

But I still think I’m right.

But beyond the whole ethical debate, I learned something about myself and my marriage.  Even though I wouldn’t divorce my wife with Alzheimer’s in a million years, I asked myself, “Would I want Sarah to stay with me if my Alzheimer’s meant I couldn’t even recognize her anymore?  Could I give her away if she could be much happier with another companion?”

I answered yes.  I had to.  I love Sarah more than I love myself.

After I thought all this, Sarah came into the living room where I was sitting.

“Hey babe,” I said, “let me tell you something.  If I ever go crazy…”

“WHEN you go crazy,” she chuckled.

“Okay, when I go crazy.  If I’m so far gone that I don’t even know you and you need a companion and you find someone, you have my permission.”

“Thanks babe,” she smiled, “but I don’t see that happening.”

I believe the conversation we had is a small glimpse of what true marriage sounds like.  Marriage is a contest to see who can practice self-denial better.  Marriage should be full of arguments like “You take the last piece of pie –  no YOU take it!” and “I love you more and I’ll show it  – no I love YOU more and I’ll prove it!”  Marriage means you should be willing to let the other one go but would never – NEVER even consider it if the tables were turned.  Marriage is indeed one flesh and there’s just no separating it.

Paul talks about the sacrifice of marriage in Ephesians 5. He calls it a mystery, meaning that we wouldn’t have figured out how to do marriage this way on our own, it was advice given from God.  And he’s right.  In our self-centered world, a self-sacrificial marriage sounds crazy.  But when both husband and wife do this, marriage becomes the most joyful, wonderful, passionate thing in the world.

If Pat Robertson viewed marriage like this, we should have answered it this way:  “Why would you want to get out of your marriage?  Why would you even want the cheap beer that is your current affair when all your life you’ve had the finest champagne?  Your wife may now be a sliver of who she used to be, but that sliver is more soul-nourishing than this other relationship.  Why even bother?”

Until death do us part…and maybe even a little longer than that.  I’m going to try and make a deal with God to see if I can have Sarah again on the other side of eternity.

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This Is Not My Mother’s Day Gift

Worst.  Son.  Ever.

This mother’s day, I was going to get my Mom a ball.

But then I dropped it.

Okay, lame pun.  But seriously, I didn’t get my Mom a Mother’s Day gift.  And that makes me one crappy son.

I bet my two older brothers are grinning in schadenfreude* pleasure as we speak.

It’s not that I simply forgot about Mother’s Day. Oh believe me, when your wife also becomes a mother, Mother’s Day starts to be more important than Valentine’s Day.  To forget Mother’s Day is to disappoint your mom and your wife.  Double jeopardy.

Because when momma(s) ain’t happy, no one’s happy.

Last week Sarah and I were at the store and she reminded me to pick up a card for my Mom.  But I guess I was having a moment of pride.  I didn’t want to get my Mom a Mother’s Day card. I wanted to do something creative.  Something amazing.  Something that would makes tears stream down her face and make my brothers gnash their teeth in jealousy.  Besides, Mother’s Day cards are sooooo typical.  I’m not typical.  I’m awesome.

Strike that.  I’m an idiot.

So here I am – exactly 3 hours and 52 minutes until Mother’s Day – sitting in front of my computer, desperately trying to conjure the creative inspiration that will allow me to write a poem or song or something  that honors my Mom in the way she deserves.  And I got nothing.

Wait…let me be clear.  My inability to produce something for Mother’s Day isn’t because I don’t have anything to write about.  It’s quite the opposite.  My Mom is too awesome in too many ways and everything I write just sounds lame in comparison to who she is.  And there’s that whole macho** image I have to upkeep.  A man can’t write something too mushy about his momma or else all his other macho*** buddies will make fun of him.  A heart tattoo with “MOM” in the middle is perfectly acceptable.  Writing a mushy poem about your mom is not.

And then there’s the fact that I’m just brain fried.  I’ve bitten off way more than I can chew lately.  Being a full-time worker, daddy, husband and student is hard enough.  But it’s also finals week.  I’m currently working on a 10 page ethics paper, a 13 page exegesis on a passage in Ephesians, and a study guide for the entire book of Daniel.  I also just gave an oral and written presentation on the Christian view of justice.

I don’t think I’ve ever had this much on my shoulders.  I worry sometimes that I won’t be able to get it all done; or the lack of sleep and excessive caffeine will catch up to me and I’ll go comatose for a few days.   And the question I find myself asking is, “How would my Mom handle all of this?”

And the answer I find myself giving is “She would knock all of it out of the park and handle every aspect with the utmost grace and excellence, because that’s who she is”.

And thus, I now realize the biggest thing that makes my Mom incredible.  The overload of responsibility that I’m experiencing for the first time in my life is what my Mom has done continuously since I was old enough to remember.  Mom did not and does not do anything half-heartedly.  When she’s at work, she works at 150%.  When she’s in mom-mode, she mothers at 150%.  Every task, every responsibility; every aspect of her life from what I’ve seen has been done with excellence, grace and humility.

But with every strength there is a weakness.  My Mom has some incurable diseases.  My Mom is an incurable worry-wart when it comes to her friends and family.  And the reason why is because of her 150% nature.  She cares and loves and prays and is concerned for her friends and family’s well-being more than any human I know.

And I’m not just saying that because it’s almost Mother’s Day.  It’s the God’s honest truth.

She’s also an incurable giver. If there’s a job to be done, she’ll do it.  If there’s someone in need, she’ll give to the point of self-sacrifice and will never complain or ask for anything in return.

She’s like the human version of the Giving Tree.  Only with much more sass.

So here’s to you, Mom.  You’re much more awesome than anything I can ever write.  And here’s me, wishing and hoping that at least some of that…whatever it is that makes you, you…got transferred to me.  And at the risk of being made fun of at the gym next week****, I love you more than the amount of blue in the sky.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Sorry I didn’t get you anything.

* Schadenfreude – German for “happiness at the misfortune of others”.  It’s arguably the best word in the German language.

** If you know me, then you know that’s a lie.

*** If you know my friends, then you know that’s a lie.  Sorry guys.

**** You get the point by now.

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The Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Disease Known as Postpartum Depression

Imagine.  After several arduous hours of pushing a rather large object out of a rather small opening, you are finally holding the most beautiful baby that you have ever seen.  He is looking up at you and responding to your voice and somewhere faintly in the background you are pretty sure you hear angels singing the “Hallelujah Chorus”.  You start to count the fingers and toes as he snuggles on your chest and you breathe in that beautiful baby smell.  From that moment on every moment, though tiring, is a joy as you watch your child grow and develop in the most special way.

What a load of crap. 

Well, at least for me.  My story went a little differently.  Yes, there was pain.  Four days worth of pitocin induced pain for my first beautiful baby boy.  And the only thing I heard after that was my heart pounding in my ears and the sounds of nurses rushing out of the room with my baby who wasn’t breathing.  My second boy had to be in the nursery for 48 hours with tubes and IVs poking out of his little hands to fight off an infection that passed from me during childbirth.  By the time the nurses told me I was ready to leave the hospital, I was already depressed.  I had no desire to go home and do this all on my own.  Honestly, I would have stayed in the hospital forever if they had let me.

Now, the difficult events leading up to and immediately following the birth of both my children may not have been the catalyst leading to my postpartum depression, but I’m sure they didn’t help the matter.  And no matter how many new mommies complain about how tired they are and post Facebook statuses to the effect of “I NEED COFFEE” or “WHY WON’T THIS BABY SLEEP?!?!?”, I now know deep down that those emotions (though completely valid and understandable) just don’t hold a candle to the depression that I, and many other women, have felt after giving birth. 

I have now successfully gone through over a year (total) of postpartum depression, to the point where I finally sought professional help this past year.  Too bad it took me so long to figure out what was wrong.  I mean, what new mother isn’t tired and cranky?  What new mother can’t keep a clean house because it just doesn’t seem to matter?  Or, doesn’t really have the urge to get out of sweatpants and dirty, spit-up laden t-shirts?  

What mother doesn’t have suicidal thoughts at 2:00 in the morning when that precious newborn just won’t stop crying?

Ok, so maybe this is more than just the normal stress and emotions that happen after your world is turned upside down with a new baby.

Sure, new mothers experience stress, fatigue, and the whole gamut of emotions after giving birth.  Few, however, have the anxiety attacks that I had on a daily basis.  Attacks that led to hyperventilation and caused my heart to practically pound out of my chest.  And few find themselves unable to stop eating because that is the only respite in an otherwise awful existence.  And I don’t know many mothers that feel like their family would be better off if they were out of the picture.  But this worthlessness was my life, along with a sense that after only a few weeks of being a mother, I was already a complete and total failure.

 Before I continue, fair warning to all those who have never experienced postpartum or any other kind of depression; what I am about to say may shock you.

What I really felt after my boys were born was a cacophony of scary emotions and the desire to throw myself off the roof of a building, or at least punch a nice sized hole through the wall.  My mind never stopped running.  I kept thinking, “Is JJ getting enough quality sleep at night?  What if I don’t feed him enough vegetables?  Should I try to get out with him today or is it even worth the effort?  Should I hang out with friends and accept their graciously offered help, or should I avoid them and not deal with the hassle of making this place look presentable just so they can come over and help me clean?”

And that was just the beginning.

There were days when I called Josh and begged him to come home simply because I felt like I was drowning in a sea of emotions and couldn’t even function enough to make it one more minute without another adult in the room to tell me it was OK.  I found that I wanted to hurt somebody, especially myself.  “I swear, if that baby wakes up one more time tonight, I’m gonna rip out all my hair!!”

Even after several weeks home with my first boy, I still didn’t feel any maternal bond with him.  The typical elation and joy that most women express after having their first born eluded me.  In fact, I didn’t understand how new mothers could be happy at all.  What was there to be happy about?  Sure, I had a lot of emotions running through me, but joy and contentment were not among them.  Women who talked about the joys of being a new mommy and how it was the best thing that ever happened to them must be putting up a front because I never once felt like that.

It became incredibly obvious that something was serious wrong when I found myself in the bathtub crying my eyes out a week after my first boy was born.  The doctor recommended regular baths to help me heal, at least 15 minutes twice a day.  No problem, right?  Only, this simple task was the most stressful and depressing time of my day.  I sat in the bath while Josh kept JJ busy in the other room and all I could do was cry.  I was still in a lot of pain.  I felt guilty for leaving my boy, even for just a few minutes to help my body heal.   I felt annoyed when Josh couldn’t get JJ to calm down and stop crying.  I felt like I just needed a few minutes to myself but I couldn’t enjoy it because I was so stressed about getting back to my boy and comforting him the way only a Mommy knows how (said with slight sarcasm).  I felt angry at myself for feeling all the above emotions and for not simply enjoying a few brief moments alone without laying an immense guilt trip on myself.

With my second child, the first couple weeks proved to be manageable and I even thought I would get through this one unscathed.  But, it came creeping up on me without my even noticing.  Pretty soon, every day was drudgery.  I couldn’t face one more toddler tantrum, or screaming baby with belly problems.  Every night was depressing because I knew I would be up all night trying to feed and comfort the baby.  Then, in the morning it was even worse because I had to face the whole day alone with a toddler who wouldn’t eat anything except cereal and macaroni and cheese and got a thrill out of screaming bloody murder during his brother’s naps.  I couldn’t even accept help from others because I felt bad unloading my kids onto someone else.  Even when family visited I couldn’t enjoy a short respite because I was too busy worrying about being a bother to other people and stressed that they may mess up a nap or feeding schedule. 

To top it off, I had these incredibly, ludicrously high expectations for myself as a mother.  Surely I could get my kids to eat healthy, be on a perfect nap schedule, let me change their diapers without a reenactment of World War II, all while teaching them the alphabet, colors, a new song or two, and all about Jesus’ love and every Bible story I could muster.

Sounds a little extreme, but I still have days where if I don’t do at least 3 things on that list I feel like a failure.

The worst part was well-meaning friends and family who tried to tell me that I simply needed to “calm down” and “relax” and enjoy my beautiful boys because these times are just “so precious” and they grow up “too fast”.  I get that, really I do.  But, honestly, if them growing up means I get to end this depression, then good-riddance sweet baby clothes and cute little footsy pajamas and hello to grown up teenage boys with the ability to walk, eat, bathe, and clean up all on their own (not saying that they will, but at least they will be able to).  There is something to be said for simply empathizing with a person going through a horrible time; crying with them and holding them and just leaving it at that.

And now for the truly shocking piece of this story.  Please understand that, though embarrassing, the following is simply a fact of postpartum that can no longer be ignored.  Too many women suffer through this in silence and shame when they should be speaking out and getting help.  The worst and most excruciating part of this depression is my attitude toward my beautiful boys.  Though I adore them and would never wish them any harm, depression can do funny things to your subconscious.  It can make you want to do drastic things to quiet a crying baby.  It can make you want to harm your own child.  Though I never, ever acted on these emotions in any way, and am rather ashamed to admit them now, this is a fact that can’t be ignored.  When you have hormones racing through your body, you have minimal sleep and a newborn crying all night long, you’d be surprised where your mind can take you.  It goes to a very dark place that is incomprehensible to anyone who has never experienced it before.  It can make you want to do something you would never in your right mind even consider.  That is the nature of this beast, and that is what is quietly destroying so many women who feel they can’t utter such horrible feelings to another human soul.  And that, in my opinion, is what is truly tragic about this disease.  Yes, it can fairly and adequately be called a “disease”.

It came to a climax when my youngest boy got sent to the emergency room at 2 ½ months with RSV (a respiratory virus).  I was with him for five days in the hospital, but by the second day I had to ask Joshua to come stay the night with us because I just couldn’t handle it alone.  My poor boy was going through torture just trying to breathe and getting his nose suctioned out every few hours and all I could think of was the stress of trying to manage his sleep schedule and feeding schedule with all the wires coming off of him.  After an hour of crying to Joshua and unloading all of the emotions that I hadn’t yet shared with him, he looked at me and told me I needed to get help.

That’s when I started going to counseling.  As I started airing all my dirty laundry to a my counselor (or, rather, the least embarrassing highlights), and she proceeded to tell me what should have been obvious, but became abundantly clear when a complete stranger confirmed, “Yes, you are depressed, but you also have an extraordinary amount of anxiety and stress!”  That’s when I knew I had gone over the edge.  I was crazy and something had to be done before I drove my husband insane.  Then who would take care of our kids?  The worst part was that I couldn’t even tell my counselor the whole truth about what I was experiencing because I was too embarrassed.  Still, the cloud started lifting and slowly I started to feel human again.

One thing became very clear to me during this healing process.  God could have healed me a long time ago.  He maybe would have if I had thought to ask.  It took until a month ago before I finally started praying for this to end.  One thing I know for sure, if I am going to go through all this crap, there better be a payoff.  And I mean more than just that “inner character” and “this will make you stronger” stuff that most people like to spout off.  Don’t get me wrong, there is something to be said for learning from your painful experiences and growing in them.  There are even some great Bible verses to that effect.  But if one more person tries to tell “comfort” me with those wonderful one-liners, I think I’m going to have to punch them in the face.  For this type of distress and depression, I want to see real, tangible benefits for all that I had to go through.

And now for the payoff.  For all those women who have gone through or are currently going through postpartum, I want this to be your letter of understanding and camaraderie.  I want to unmask this awful depression so we can stop being embarrassed about our feelings and start doing something about them.  I want us to stop being afraid of those other mothers, those seemingly perfect, “June Cleaver”, “my house is always clean and my 2 year old already knows how to read and write in English AND Latin!”  Postpartum or not, we are all different women with different skills and abilities, and we need to stop comparing ourselves to one another and instead start helping and supporting each other.  That is all I want to do.  To show you that I have my shortcomings and I am nowhere near a perfect mother, but I love my kids.  I would do anything for them.  And the most important thing I can do for them right now, is to make Mommy better.  To get past this depression and find a way to grow and learn from it so that I can be a better mother in the future.  And in case you were wondering, no I am not fully healed yet.  My second boy is 6 months old and I am on the road to recovery, but I still have my bad days.  But, little by little, my bad days are becoming better and better and they come around less.  I am starting to understand what it means to be a mother who is actually happy to be a mother and can enjoy her children and see them as pieces of my heart instead of catalysts of stress.

 Beyond my own healing, I want to be that voice that you need to hear.  That voice of understanding and maybe even a little hope.  Hope that this can and will get better.  But most of all, that voice that says you are not alone, you are not a bad mother, and that this is NOT YOUR FAULT.  It’s just not.  You have to know that.  You have to know that you couldn’t have done anything different to avoid these hormones and emotions that have taken control of your insides. 

So, again, I repeat, THIS IS NOT YOUR FAULT.  Say it out loud, repeat it.  Heck, write it on your bathroom mirror with lipstick if that’s what it takes.  But get it through your head.

If this is the good that comes out of my depression, then that is OK with me.  In fact, that makes it more than worth it.  I know that’s hard to hear, because many people wouldn’t agree that going through hell would be worth it just so you can comfort someone else or give them some peace and healing.  I get that.  And, honestly, sometimes the pain I have experienced didn’t seem to reap any benefit whatsoever.  But just this once, I am saying that it was worth it for me and I have come to terms with that.  I am going to make it worth it by sharing my story and finding a way to help other mothers find hope.  Find help.  Find healing.  That is worthy of my pain.  You, mothers with postpartum, are worthy of my pain.

Now, go find that lipstick.

**If it is possible that you or someone you love is experiencing postpartum depression, please follow the below links for confirmation and answers:

http://www.babycenter.com/0_postpartum-depression_227.bc

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0004481/

http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/postpartum-depression/DS00546

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A Quick Rant (Subtitle: Stupid, Stupid, Dumb, Dumb, Dumb)

This morning I went to class and sat through and entire powerpoint lecture that was displayed on a 6 ft.wide screen.  After class, I worked 12

Daaaaaa me like watching shiny screen!

continuous hours, looking at computer screens.

I came home, longing to nurse my fried brain and bulging eyes.  And the first thing I do is turn on the computer.

And look at yet another screen.

What the crap is wrong with this scenario?

And here’s the worst part: I have no intention of turning it off.  After an incredibly long day, all I want to do is be entertained.  But I’m too dang stupid to actually think of something that doesn’t require staring at brightly lit pixels.

So dance for me, little monkey.  Entertain me you stupid, dumb, dumb, dumb screen. (See?  Even my vocabulary is getting…badder.)   Unleash my inner neanderthal and make him drool, giggle and beat his chest at the shallow and ultimately meaningless entertain that you’ll provide.

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Art is Stupid

Art has no point.  Paintings are really worthless.  The ‘value’ of a painting is assigned by some person who has enough clout in the art world so that others will listen and obey.  If I create something magnificent – a little visual glimpse of heaven – no one would care.  There would be no monetary value to it.  The right people who have enough power (based solely in their position in life) did not give their blessing on it.  If someone else, however, that has the backing of these same people creates a piece of garbage, it is priceless because enough of the right people have fallen over backwards for it.

Also, there is no practical application for art.  I suppose we could break down a painting and burn the wood of the frame.  But what about music?  We could chop up the instruments, I suppose.  As for the actual incarnation of the music, the melody and harmony, there is no practical purpose for it.  It is mindless noise, droning on and on and on.

You cannot give a compelling argument against this simple fact: art is stupid.

Art could vanish from the world and life would continue.  Art does not keep buildings erect.  In fact, some sculptures defy basic engineering tenets and could collapse under any sort of external weight or pressure.

Art does not keep people alive.  It does not plant seeds or harvest grain or raise livestock.

Art does not bring healing to the infirm.  Doctors and medicine accomplish that as much as they are able.

Art didn’t create the rules in which a society operates.  Art did not dictate simple universal rules like respect for human life.

Art is stupid.

We have not been told anything else our entire lives.  You may think you are enlightened or educated, so much so that you believe art has some place in our lives.  But you are wrong.  You have been severely misled.  Look around you.  No one wants your art.  No one cares if you sculpt with precision or your voice is liquid gold.

It comes down to this: what is it worth?  What is your creation worth?  How much can I sell it for?  How can it help me buy other things?  How does it add to our gross domestic product?

Your art is worthless.  And so is the time you spent creating it.  And so are you.

In this Western world, if you do not produce something of ‘value’, you are worthless.  Your life has no point, like the art you think you are creating.  People may applaud the immediate unveiling of your latest masterpiece, but at some point everyone is thinking: ‘This has no practical use’.  And so you have wasted that precious commodity that you cannot refund, transfer or accrue: time.  No man’s insatiable greed or ambition can retrieve one spent second of precious time.

Art is stupid.

But how I love it.

It may not heal the body, but it can heal the soul.  The wounds it can bind are unseen by others, but felt deeply by the individual.

Art does not provide food or shelter, but it can make both enjoyable.

Society can live on without art, based on rules enforced by an authoritative government.  Art, however, communicates the beauty of life and the need to respect it.

And though this society prefers efficiency over aesthetics and position over truth, art will be the quiet corner that never leaves.  It may have no practical purpose to those in a hurry to breathe their last breath, but for the wise it will be an ever present opportunity to stop and observe life.  To partake in making observations about life and beauty.  To allow others to communicate their observations about love and eternity.

So to all the ambitious and greedy people who run a race to the grave….you have my pity.

To anyone who made it this far in the reading, take warning: art is stupid, and you’ll be stupid for wasting your time on it.  But to do anything else would be true stupidity.

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Culture

Being A Stay-At-Home Dad: The Good, The Bad And The Ugly.

JJ at 5 months old.

Statistics show that anywhere between 18%-24% percent of American kids from ages 0-4 have dads that are at home.  This blog is for these dads.

I’ve had both the pleasure and misfortune of being a stay-at-home dad for the past 7 months.  I’ve loved it, hated it; it’s made me laugh, cry, angry, joyous, content and nauseous.  And now I totally connect with Charles Dickens when he wrote those immortal words, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”

I had no intention of being at stay-at-home dad (which we’ll abbreviate as SAHD for simplicity’s sake) for this long.  After working two jobs at once to get my wife through college, it was my desire to take a short one to two month sabbatical to stay at home, get some writing done, and try my hand at being a full-time dad. This was only a fantasy as reality would never allow this to happen; but hey, a guy can dream.  I never got the sabbatical, but thanks to woeful unemployment, I could afford to stay home for a short time while we lived on my wife’s decent earnings.

Being the primary guardian, chef, butler, maid, educator, jester and butt-wiper for my most favorite person; a 20 month old boy with light blond hair, crystal blue eyes, and a manipulative charming smile; has been one of the most incredible things I’ve ever done.  And I’m dang good at it.  I can change a diaper with the speed and accuracy of a ninja.  I have mastered most of my son’s non-verbal communication and are always aware of his wants and needs.  I now make a mean homemade mac-and-cheese.  I’ve never learned so much about the physical, emotional, intellectual and social developments of toddler in all my life.   And I’m very proud knowing that I’ve played a crucial role in my son’s well-being and all around awesomeness.

I’ve also acquired things that have made myself a better person.  I have a new-found appreciation for mothers, especially my wife.  I’ve developed traits of being more caring and empathetic.  And I’ve created a strong bond with my son that came as the result of taking care of him everyday.  To me, these things are priceless.  In fact, I would recommend such a time to any man, should they be able to afford it.

But there’s a gray lining to every silver cloud.  As good as I am at being a SAHD, I’m convinced my wife can run circles around me in homemaking and child rearing.  She’s just incredible at it.  And she’s wired with the desire of staying home to raise our kids.  I’m not.  As much as I have loved this, I am wired to work in the worst of ways.  I have purpose-driven ADHD, if there is such a thing.  I am happiest when I’m getting out of the house and into a long-houred job.  So after the first two months, me and my wife found ourselves desperately wanting to switch roles.  Five months later, I still haven’t been able to land a good job.  I definitely wouldn’t say we’re miserable, but we’re in situations where we’ve too long been doing things we just weren’t wired to do.

Now here’s where the “ugly” in this story comes along.  My wife and I are a status quo male/female duo.  She’s more of the nurturer, and I’m more of the protector/provider mindset.  This seems pretty typical among males and females.  But I’m convinced that not every husband and wife couple is wired this way.  I’ve met couples where the typical desires are reversed; where the wife wants a career and the husband wants to be the homemaker.  And these couples are good at what they do.

So what’s wrong with this scenario?

I believe there’s nothing wrong with this scenario.  But there’s many that would have you believe otherwise.  SAHDs are the subject of a lot of ridicule these days.  The ridicule goes beyond the harmless “man-mom” and “he-wife” jokes.  There is a large group of people who take a religious aspect to the ridicule.

Apparently, God doesn’t approve of stay-at-home dads.

Pastor Mark Driscoll is one of these people.  He’s the speaking pastor of Mars Hill church in Seattle, WA.  His 7,000+ congregation is shadowed by his immense popularity all over the country.  The guy does some things in his ministry that I believe are absolutely brilliant.  But I’ll admit, I’m not a fan of his.  For every one moment of Driscoll brilliance, there’s five things that make me want to pull out my hair in frustration.   The above video is one of those hair pulling moments.

In the video, Driscoll answers this question, “Is it okay for a dad to stay home if the wife wants to work?”  Now, Driscoll makes a lot of good points about how some men need to be men instead of boys.  But Driscoll says that it is NOT okay for a husband to stay home because of the scripture 1 Timothy 5:8.

But if anyone does not provide for his own, and especially for those of his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever. – 1 Timothy 5:8

Driscoll goes on to argue that this verse has no cultural relevance and takes it as a literal biblical command for modern times.

*Queue hair pulling sound*

I believe that such literal interpretations of scripture are the very reason why so many churches suck.  This verse has a ton of truth in it, but definitely not to the extreme measures that Driscoll takes.  Allow me to explain.

I am convinced that every New Testament command has a purpose and benefit that’s pretty easy to understand.  In other words, God just didn’t throw out some random laws “just because”.  Every command is beneficial for our well-being.  So we have to look at where the importance lies in this scripture.  The importance in this scripture is that the family needs to be taken care of.  That’s it.

So what about the man in this scripture?

Understand that in that time, the man was the only way in which a family could be provided for.  Women didn’t have jobs back then and thus, couldn’t provide for a family.  Their role was to take care of the home and children.  Driscoll is putting the cart before the horse.  The importance of this scripture does not lie within the man, it lies within the fact that the family needs to be taken care of.

In other words, if this scripture would have been written in today’s age where both men and women have equal right to provide, it would probably have read, “If any man or woman does not provide for his or her own…”

Now, I agree that the majority of us are wired where the wife desires to be a nurturer and the husband desires to be a provider.  So if a man, whose family fits this description, is too lazy to even look for a job and lets his family go poor, yes, this scripture is absolutely applicable and that man should get some sense smacked into him. But if the wife wants to work and the husband wants to raise the kids, and the family needs are being met, then this scripture is being fulfilled.

Later on in the clip, Pastor Driscoll address the issue of both parents working while the kids go to daycare.  He discourages this, but does not outright condemn it. This is where Driscoll confuses me.  So it’s not a sin for the husband and wife to work and let someone else raise your child, but it IS a sin for the father to raise the child?  How is that any better?  What if the daycare provider is a man and that is his job?   Wouldn’t it be better for the actual father to take care of the kids, rather than someone else’s father?

So here’s to all the stay-at-home dads out there, the “mannys,” “he-wifes,” “man-moms” and “testosterhomemakers” (I made that last one up).   The world may not understand you (I know I sure don’t).  But if your wife is loving her job and making the dough, and you love raising your kids, then keep rocking on.  It’s better if you did, then someone else.

As for the guys out there that are going nuts looking for a job while being a full-time dad, be encouraged!  You are not purposeless.  The role you are playing is crucial, even though it may be making you want to pull out your hair.  And when you eventually land a job, you’ll look back on all the good times you had with your kids, all the things they taught you; and you can enjoy the fact that you’re probably closer to them than you would have been otherwise.

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FFC Interviews Founder Of “The Way to Begin” Corinna Sanders!

Earlier this year, while juggling the tasks of Facebook stalking, denying Farmtown requests, and desperately trying to think of something clever to say in my Facebook status, I came across a new charitable organization called The Way to Begin, created by my friend Corinna Sanders.

The name alone caught my attention.  And it described exactly how I feel about charity.  With all of the need out there; the “dollar a day” charities, 3rd world hunger, poor quality water and medicine in various places, disasters in Haiti, and the litany of needs on our own soil, one might ask themselves, “Where the heck do I even begin to address all of this?”

Luckily, Corinna and her organization provides a way for people who over-think and become overwhelmed with charity to get involved in simple yet meaningful ways.  The Way to Begin is no where near solving world hunger, but they have made an impact in the St. Louis metro area.  Inspired by this, I asked if Four Finger Culture could do an interview with her, in which she happily agreed.  The following in an hour long interview we had over the internet.

FFC: So in a nutshell, tell the thousands in attendance and the millions watching all over the world (sorry I’ve always wanted to say that) exactly what is The Way to Begin?

CS: The Way to Begin is a year long project I started to give my friends and I (and anyone else who wanted to come along for the ride) the chance to help others and make a difference in our community.

FFC: Very cool project. How are you getting involved in the community? Are you focusing on one specific charity?

CS: No, not just one charity- several! We are focusing on a different project every month.

FFC: Are you doing original charity work or finding other pre-existing charities to get involved with?

CS: I’m mostly finding ones that already exist. My friends have helped me find a lot of worthy causes. Some of them don’t have an actual charity set up yet, but they are still in need of help. For instance, this summer we’re working on a project to help this school in St. Louis where most of the kids are below the poverty level and need school supplies. They’re not asking for anything, but we’re going to help!

FFC: How do you find some of these causes? For instance, the school in St. Louis, how did you come to know of their needs?

CS: The school in St. Louis was found by my friend Todd. He is one of the leaders at the church I go to. August Gate (the church) is really involved in the Soulard and St. Louis communities. They’re always trying to find ways to help out. They asked me to be involved with this because they know that I have organized some things like this in the past.

FFC: What are some of the other charities and causes you’ve helped out with so far?

CS: Let’s see…we’ve helped out with Cookies for Kids Cancer, the APA of Granite City, and we’ve assembled backpack filled with essentials for homeless people.  We’ve also ran a community clothes swap, and I’ve also sold fair trade chocolates to fund a company fighting against human trafficking.

FFC: So you’re definitely doing more than raising funds and asking for donations, you’re actually getting out there in helping in more physical and tangible ways.

CS: Definitely trying. I recognize that I have strengths and weaknesses and I’m trying to do whatever it is I am capable of doing.

FFC: I like that. Especially in harder economic times, people may not have a lot of money, but they can donate things like time and skills.

CS: Exactly.  With the clothes swap I asked people to donate clothes that they don’t wear anymore. Still usable, but it’s just something we leave in the back of our closet but someone would be glad to have.

FFC: Now, what inspired you to start all of this?

CS: Well I think the first start was when my sister-in-law asked me to come to this “Knitting for Newborns” project she heard about. I went, even though I can’t knit! But I went home with the realization that I wanted to help people more. I liked the idea of it. So then I started to organize stuff that I COULD do, and realized I had a ton of friends that were interested and passionate about helping people too.

FFC: I could make assumptions about why it’s called The Way to Begin, but I’ll let you tell me :)

CS: I think “The Way to Begin” really describes a lot of people that I know, including myself. We all want to help people, but it’s so much easier to know how to help when you are aware of the community’s needs and who you can give donations to. We all need “a way to begin”.

FFC: That’s a good way to put it. You have something that I feel is a little more unique as far as charities go. I mean, I (sadly and ashamedly) don’t really know the needs of my community. Perhaps people think of charities more in a global way, forgetting about the simple needs of our neighbors.

CS: That’s true. I do think it’s very important to help globally as much as possible, but when someone next door just needs some clothes or food, that can be so easy.

FFC: There are a lot of obstacles when trying to make a grassroots idea a success. Four Finger Culture is dealing with the fact that there are already a million other blog sites out there, so staying relevant and original is a big challenge. What are some of the hurdles you’re dealing with that comes with a brand new charity?

CS: Hmm…I guess sometimes it’s hard to know which causes people will be interested in helping with. I don’t want anyone giving because they feel they have to or out of obligation. But even if only one person helps out, I figure it is better than none!

FFC: Heh. Maybe I’m looking at it the wrong way. I guess you can’t assign a particular number to success, unless the number is one.  Whenever you start something new, you want it to be successful. I guess we all have our own definition of success. So let me ask you this, because this is a grassroots and smaller, more community based project, is it hard not to compare yourself with success of other larger charities?

FFC: Or are you just that pure of heart :P

CS: LOL, of course it is easy to look at a big charity and think of how much they are able to give. But I really like the way that we’re doing things. We are not just helping one cause, like many charities, we are pursuing multiple charities and therefore are able to give to exactly who we want to. I think that’s kind of cool. I like the freedom of choosing and the ability to find needs that are not necessarily in the spotlight most of the time.

FFC: I really like your ethos. Now your website says that this is a year long project. Will The Way to Begin stop in 2011? Any plans to continue or pass on the torch?

CS: I would love to have it continue, but I don’t have any definite plans for next year. I think the people involved would be more than willing though. They are all so giving.

FFC: If anyone that reads this and is interested in getting involved, where should they go?

CS: They should go to The Way to Begin Facebook page, the blog (www.thewaytobegin.wordpress.com) or email me directly at corinna412@yahoo.com.

I would also like to add that the uniqueness of The Way to Begin is now an inspiration to Four Finger Culture.  Corinna’s mindset isn’t about numbers, it’s about helping people.  So if one person gets helped, then The Way to Begin is a success.  I have to admit that this mindset challenged how I’ve been viewing the popularity and success of Four Finger Culture.  I’ll admit that I’ve cared too much about the numbers and get a little bummed when the website doesn’t get viewed by 1,000 people a day…or 100 people………..or 10 people.   It sucks when there are times where the viewing charts drops like BP stock, but that’s okay.  Thanks to The Way to Begin, I’ve come to realize that if just one person can be impacted by Four Finger Culture, then I’ve done my job.

Rock on, Corinna.  You’re helping more people than you know.

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Four Finger Inspirations II: Mumford And Sons “Sigh No More”

One of my relentless missions in life is to find Jesus in modern culture.  I’m not talking about Christian pop culture like Christian music, books, media, etc.  These things are all well and good but will, unfortunately, never impact many people who simply don’t like this particular culture’s style.

I, too, have become increasingly dissatisfied with much of the modern Christian music and media out there.  Again, not that there’s anything wrong with it, it just rarely ever invokes any of my emotional triggers.  I wish it did.  I sometimes wish I could turn on and enjoy the local Christian music station because it would be a lot easier than dealing with the genetic makeup that is me, a picky tortured artist.

So whenever I find something that inspires me in incredible ways, of course I’m going to slap it up on this website.  I encourage you to click the link above, if you’ve not already done so.  And hey, if it’s not your cup of tea or doesn’t give you any tinglies, sorry about that.  Maybe next time.

A big thanks to my buddy Jordan for turning me on to this band.  Jordan is my music pimp.  He is crazier about music than I am and every time he finds a band he knows I’ll like, he tells me about them.  A lot my favorite music is because of him so I believe that everyone in life needs a music pimp.  You just can’t have Jordan.  Go find your own.

What you just heard is a song called “Sigh No More” by the band Mumford And Sons.  I’ve listened to this song about 15 times already today because they pretty much sum up the manifesto of my life in two lines.

“Love it will not betray you, dismay or enslave you, it will set you free. Be more like the man you were made to be. There is a design, an alignment, a cry of my heart to see, the beauty of love as it was made to be.”

There is a design, an alignment, a cry of my heart to see, the beauty of love as it was made to be.  Holy crap.  Not many people write like this anymore.

As a Christian, I’m convinced that this intended love, this perfect and beautiful thing is Jesus Christ’s love.  There is simply no other religion or philosophy that has ever shared the same radical and intense ethos of love as Jesus.  He set the standard.  And I believe that this sometimes even scandalous love can be the hardest thing for us humans to ascribe to one another. It is truly a weighty mission to fully understand and give this love, especially to people whom we think do not deserve it.

I love this song because, although is has many religious overtones, it connects with a broad group of people.  I’ve read many comments online from non-religious people and atheists defending the message of this song.  One person wrote, “I’m personally not a fan of preaching but if religion can produce music this beautiful among all the other things it has done in the past…”

Even non-Christians still understand the deep need for this perfect love.

What’s ironic is Mumford And Sons is not a Christian band, and I have no evidence that they claim to be Christians, although most of their songs are riddled with Christian themes.  And a few F-bombs here and there as well.  They once stated in an interview, “We’re not a Christian rock band as such, the album deals with dilemmas every man deals with in life as do we. Faith is just one thing we’ve gone with. It’s one subject that can’t be ignored and we’ve tried to deal with it.”

Faith can’t be ignored.

So although these guys will never make the cover of Christianity today, they are ministering.  It goes to show that all good things can be used for God’s purposes.

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