Untangling Tales

Here’s a reprint from about two-and-a-half years ago.  Because the idea of ambassador is one I want to keep in front of me. For many reasons.

I mentioned  that life will be getting even busier soon since school will be starting, then added the clarification that we are homeschooling.

“Oh,” says Person-A, “Will Jay be teaching them math?”

“He could,” I said, surprised at the question and not wanting to make Jay look bad by saying he’s not currently planning on doing any of the teaching.

“I was just thinking he ought to be able to,” Person-A finished.

Then (this was my moment of lucidity) I realized Person-A had just insinuated it took an engineer to teach 1st-grade math.

“Are you implying,” I asked, genuinely hoping to embarrass him, “That I can’t teach 6-year-old math?”

Yes, that’s what he was implying.  He didn’t even try to defend himself.

I was surprised, but shrugged it off.  It wasn’t important to me what he thought.

It wasn’t until later that night, thinking again of the leggy Darwin fish on the car in his driveway, and remembering the sign during voting season for the local fellow I wasn’t voting for, that I began to feel something about our interaction wasn’t right.

And then this morning I realized that I had gone into the conversation utterly unprepared.

I had gone to admire a delicious new baby and prattle family small-talk and keep up positive neighborhood relations.

It was not in my mind that I was entering as an ambassador of Christ, and Homeschooling, and Conservative Thought, and Purposeful Parenting.

Lord-willing, that will never happen again.

I acted as though I was a friend among familiars, being sloppy in my explanations and imprecise in my reasons.  In short, I did more to reinforce any (diminished) view they may have of those things than to correct it.

And maybe it wasn’t that bad, but the problem is that I didn’t enter as an ambassador, aware of what I represented.  If I’d had the right mentality going in, I know I would have done better (If I’d only know this was a job interview…).

I might have recognized the “playing” of me and my ideas before the next day, and maybe refused to play.  I want to think I’d still not be offended (it never serves a diplomat’s goals or purpose to be offended), but I could have been more “professional” and less of an airhead.

Again, not that I’m sure I was the opposite extreme, it’s just that I muffed a fine opportunity to muck up their stereotypes.

And I find that disappointing.

All the same, I haven’t yet learned how to respond politely to subtle insults, and it occurs to me that had I fully known what was going on I might have been a poorer representative of Christ than I otherwise was.

I’m a defender. It’s what I do– often without thinking about it.

I see someone on the defensive doing poorly, I jump in on their side.  Especially if it’s an argument I know and think I could do better than them.

I think I lost a friend this way last year.  He hasn’t spoken to me the same way since I took the other side of his literal-6-days creation debate.  It is in my nature to try and homogenize, to find the perfect faerie* argument to make everything “technically” mesh.

For the record: I think the “specific Hebrew word for a 24-hour day” argument is weak.  The argument that brings me to a literal creationist stance (which, for the record, I hold) is my belief from scripture that death did not exist before the Fall.  Therefore, billions of deaths over millions of years– in order to get to a human creature, sentient and capable both of communion with God and division from him– is not possible.

I have a high degree of empathy– the ability to get into other people’s heads or emotions and imagine how certain things affect them.  As a result I can take far too much responsibility for their comfort.  For their feelings.

And I recently figured out that to be healthy as me I have to quit thinking so much of others.

Whoa! Is a Christian allowed to say that?

You see for about three years now, about as long as I’ve been homeschooling, I’ve been feeling responsible to keep my choices (for example, to homeschool) from making other parents feel guilty for making a different choice.

Before that it was about being a stay-at-home mom, but it seems more people do that with preschoolers so I didn’t feel the separation as keenly.

The point is, I imagined how I’d feel if I were the other parent, and I downplayed the significance of our different choices because, well, if she wanted to be home, I didn’t want her to feel bad, and even if she didn’t, I wanted very much to avoid any possible conflict or fight over which choice was better or (an even worse word) “correct.”

This sheltering or defending of others has continued as Jay and I made our lives more complicated and atypical: gluten-free, debt-free, tiny house, homegrown (I like to call it “ethical”) meat.

I’ve avoided talking about our choices, especially the whys, because I didn’t want to draw such stark lines as I knew they’d create.

So I basically said what anybody chooses doesn’t matter, because we’re all different, with different needs and different stages.  And while that’s true, and I really don’t want to create a hierarchy or polarize folks, it killed me emotionally.

Because I had just said– continually said, over years– that what I invested in, the hard stuff I chose because it was important to me and I felt it was worth it and made a difference– Didn’t. matter.

And I don’t want to do that any more.  This is where I need to be my defender and trust everyone else to be grown-up enough to own and love their own decisions.

I’m certainly not going to pick any fights, but I’m going to quit being embarrassed of how hard I work. I do it for real reasons, and those reasons carry me through. Make me stick with things even when they’re hard.

What I do is valuable. Not something to kick under the bed like the shoes my husband won’t get rid of.  I’m proud of what I do. It is important and worth defending.

*Faerie are creepy to me on a couple levels.  The main one is their commitment to the truth– as it is useful to them.  Their methodology is to manipulate the “mortal” they speak with by speaking nothing but the *exact* truth.  Of course they will direct, imply and manipulate to their purpose’s end, but they will never be culpable to the charge that they ever spoke falsehood.

When I talk of me speaking faerie I mean it in terms of working words or reality as a puzzle that I’m trying (by means of the exactness or slipperiness of language) to meld differing views enough to bring cooperation if not true peace.

Euthanasia has been defined as “mercy killing.”

What I was reminded of this week is that, for honest Christians at least, there can be no such thing.

Bible-believing Christians know that judgment comes after death, and how can hastening God’s judgment on an individual be mercy? We do not know their hearts, only what they’ve shown us. How can we know but God’s reason for allowing the suffering (and therefore, continued life) holds more mercy then throwing someone unready on the unavoidable Judgment?

This is an interesting video by an interesting guy who seems to make things interesting simply by talking fast and on-point.

(I realized recently don’t follow any vlogs largely because this is one of two people I’ve seen able to do both.)

It is entitled, Adorable Puppy Explains Health Care Bill, and in it John makes the impending bill-to-be-reconciled sound quite reasonable. Even the bit about insurance becoming required.

He compares it to car insurance, “Because,” he states, with beautiful and irreducible logic, “your stupid decisions affect people I care about– like me.”

And this, beloved public, is the whole (fully justifiable) point of “legislating morality.”

The same woman who cries, “Keep your laws off my body!” might as well be prepared to hear, “Keep your hand out of my wallet,” because issues of morality (i.e., sin) really do cost us money as a society.

And that was even before activists were looking for public funding of abortion.

The letter I sent to my (AK) senators through American Family Association‘s political-action page.

For the record, I know I don’t go politico very often at Untangling Tales, but there are some things I feel I have to use what (even small forum) I have to distribute information.  And maybe model a little action beyond hand-wringing.

Doubtless you’ve received much communication about the Heath Care Bill, but I have to add my (forgive me, near-panicked) voice against it.

There are many reasons I oppose the Health Care Bill but stopping the taxpayer funding of abortion is the element that sparked my urgency.

The Hyde Amendment prevents Medicaid funds – and Medicaid funds only – from being used for abortions, but that restriction wouldn’t apply to the government takeover of health care, so protestations Abortions wouldn’t be funded are, well, misinformation is the nice word.

Under the Capps Amendment in the House bill, the public option would be *required* to offer abortion services, and every American would have to have access to at least one health care plan that included abortion.

It is immoral to fund the destruction of innocent human life, and I resent– even fear– being required to participate. I am fundamentally opposed to the Health Care Bill and any attempt at government take-over of the health care industry. I urge you to protect the life of the unborn (and the Right to Choice of all Americans– not just those “choosing” abortion) by opposing the Health Care Bill.

Sincerely, (etc.)

Until today I have been at the hand-wringing stage, and no matter which way this issue goes, I want to know I did what I could– however little.

431 titles entered in the database, taped in 10 boxes, all piled by the garage door waiting for the transfer to the under-the-house (yes, it’s book-safe).

~

Anybody reading this blog identify yourself as a Christian?  Anybody in that group ever prayed (or heard someone at your elbow pray), “Lord let the people around me see my life is different and ask me about it”?

Does that make anybody besides me nuts?

Here’s the thing: I have never heard those words from someone whose life I would have identified as “different” (at least, not in an attractive way), and I can honestly say, I don’t *want* to attract attention because I’m different.

{grin}

Let me try that again.

I have all my life been different.  Different is not the problem.

Here’s the logic/expectation I see behind that prayer:

If my life and/or attitude is good/blessed/happy/amazing/perfect (or at least more so than the lost around me) they will notice and want to be like me. Then I can talk to them about Jesus.

My problems with this idea:

1. My life (or attitude) must be good/blessed/happy/amazing/perfect before I even get a chance to share the truth that is central to my life.
2. You’re giving people a lot of credit for noticing.  It is my writerly opinion that the vast majority of humanity waits for things to be pointed out to them.  Not many have trained themselves to notice stuff (Sherlock Holmes/Monk stuff really feeds off this).
3. You’re assuming that these people in dire straits/hard times/grumpy moods want to admit to themselves they’re unhappy with the life they’ve built.
4. You’re assuming that these people in dire straits/hard times/grumpy moods want to admit to you they’re unhappy with the life they’ve built.
5. You’re assuming they’d actually want to be like you. 

All of these problems can and have been gotten around.  I’ve heard the stories too.

But for someone who is ready, someone (forgive me for dividing believers into categories, but here I go) who actually wants to actively share his or her faith, I think this is the wrong way to pray.

If I attract people because of how I look or live my life, how do I know I won’t equally turn them off (or away) when I, as a fallible, sinful human being simply (or sensationally) screw up?

It can’t be about me.

I am not going to save anyone.

And while I want my behavior to reflect well on the Savior who ransomed my life from Hell, well, the fact that I need a Savior should be enough of a reminder I won’t always reach that goal.

I pray for opportunities to speak Truth, and the courage and sensitivity to create opportunities.

It’s not the only way to pray, but I’ve rarely heard it at my elbow, and have only just begun to do it myself.

The juxtaposition is hard for me: seeing the need to box books, teach my children, manage my home… and pray for a hurting world. Speak to hurting people.

It’s becoming overwhelming now.  It feels like too much. And that (as I told myself after the birth of #2 and again with #3) is likely the point. I think it is possible to become too “competent,” or confident.

Only when we recognize how inadequate we are do we seek God for what only He can provide.

From David Crockett, Exploits and Adventures in Texas (1836).

The more things change…

If your ambition or circumstances compel you to serve your country and earn three dollars a day, by becoming a member of the legislature, you must first publicly avow that the constitution of the state is a shackle upon free and liberal legislation, and is, therefore, of as little use in the present enlightened age as an old almanac of the year in which the instrument was framed.

There is policy in this measure, for by making the constitution a mere dead letter, your headlong proceedings will be attributed to a bold and unshackled mind; whereas, it might otherwise be thought they arose from sheer mulish ignorance.

‘The Government’ has set the example in his [Jackson's] attack upon the Constitution of the United States, and who should fear to follow where ‘the Government’ leads?”

I just realized this morning that I was being insulted yesterday.

That is, I felt the interaction was unfair, and that I somehow wasn’t saying the right thing, but I was not aware until today how (basically) rude and provoking the people were being.

In their defense, they may not have realized it either. It might just be in their nature to go for what they perceive as an opening; in which case I’m doubly thankful I was clueless, because that precluded defensiveness on both sides.

Anyway, I mentioned  that life will be getting even busier soon since school will be starting, then added the clarification that we are homeschooling.

“Oh,” says Person-A, “Will Jay be teaching them math?”

“He could,” I said, surprised at the question and not wanting to make Jay look bad by saying he’s not currently planning on doing any of the teaching.

“I was just thinking he ought to be able to,” Person-A finished.

Then (this was my moment of lucidity) I realized Person-A had just insinuated it took an engineer to teach 1st-grade math.

“Are you implying,” I asked, genuinely hoping to embarrass him, “That I can’t teach 6-year-old math?”

Yes, that’s what he was implying.  He didn’t even try to defend himself.

I was surprised, but shrugged it off.  It wasn’t important to me what he thought.

It wasn’t until later that night, thinking again of the leggy Darwin fish on the car in his driveway, and remembering the sign during voting season for the local fellow I wasn’t voting for, that I began to feel something about our interaction wasn’t right.

And then this morning I realized that I had gone into the conversation utterly unprepared.

I had gone to admire a delicious new baby and prattle family small-talk and keep up positive neighborhood relations.

It was not in my mind that I was entering as an ambassador of Christ, and Homeschooling, and Conservative Thought, and Purposeful Parenting.

Lord-willing, that will never happen again.

I acted as though I was a friend among familiars, being sloppy in my explanations and imprecise in my reasons.  In short, I did more to reinforce any (diminished) view they may have of those things I represent than to correct it.

And maybe “it wasn’t that bad,” but the problem is that I didn’t enter as an ambassador, aware of what I represented.  If I’d had the right mentality going in, I know I would have done better (If I’d only know this was a job interview…).

I might have recognized the “playing” of me and my ideas before the next day, and maybe refused to play.  I want to think I’d still not be offended (it never serves a diplomat to be offended), but I could have been more “professional” and less of an airhead.

Again, not that I’m sure I was the opposite extreme, it’s just that I muffed a fine opportunity to muck up their stereotypes.

And I find that disappointing.

All the same, I haven’t yet learned how to respond politely to subtle insults, and it occurs to me that had I fully known what was going on I might have been a poorer representative of Christ than I already was.

I am thankful to have had a “learning experience” than didn’t cost too much, and find a renewed interest in investigating both the history and training of ambassadors.

It’s a study I feel could be beneficial even on a dabbling level.

Here is yet another example of “fairy tales” being misunderstood.

From a local non-profit’s brochure:

If life were a fairy tale, no child would be abused.  The cold reality is that many children in Alaska are abused.

…

The team…helps provide the support and intervention the child victim and their family need in order… to have a chance to live happily ever after.

No offense intended to this well-meaning agency, but I don’t think anybody who knows traditional tales could claim that a fairy tale world is a safe place.  I’m always frustrated when I see this misconception perpetuated.

I don’t feel personally hurt so much as I feel these agencies (for example) and disillusioned individuals are closing the door on something that could be useful for the wounded children they are seeking to aid, or even themselves.

If humans are convinced they have to work without the power of Christ, I think they shouldn’t rule out any man-made help.  For all that the words of men will never substitute for the work of Christ, I think we can all agree there are words with greater and lesser usefulness. (If only because we have all encountered the less-effective stuff.)

To constantly mock and degrade the concept of fairy tale neutralizes its potential effectiveness.

Where is the harm in letting a beaten or neglected child see herself in the story of Cinderella?  Yes, there is the out-of-vogue reference to being rescued by a male consort, but viewed in the larger circle of folklore one could learn it is relationship, along with faithfulness and perseverance working as the means of freedom– not just finding the “right” guy or being the sweet milksop.

Aren’t those noble elements what we wish for our wounded self or wounded others?  Aren’t those the healthy elements we delight to see the wounded learn?

Eventually I will finish Bettelheim’s The Uses of Enchantment and learn if he’s got an actually useful suggestion for using traditional tales in therapy (it will take someone less-controversial than him, but more dedicated than me to create something systematically usable and coherent).

Tomorrow I’ll share an example of a fairy tale giving me just what I needed.

I wonder how many of our likes and dislikes are tied directly to what we can and can’t do (or think we can and can’t do).

What if everything we disliked (for example, that game we hate to play) was only because we wern’t good at it?

If I was honest enough to see that, would I go on as I was, or try to change what I can do?