Thursday, November 13, 2008
This morning, as I blearily read the newspaper, I thought for sure I must be mistaken. But there it was, a preacher called for married couples to have sex for seven straight days (no pun on the straight/homosexual thing). A pastor in Texas, the Rev. Ed Young, is asking his congregation's married couples to have sex for seven days straight.
"God says sex should be between a married man and a woman. I think it's one of the greatest things you can do for your kids...," Young said.
Of course, this was a story I couldn't share with my 16-year-old who sat at the table reading a book for Honors English. And I tried to imagine attending a church like this, with my entire family as the preacher stood in the pulpit and admonished me to have more sex with my husband.
My teenagers would be mortified. What teenager wants to imagine her parents having sex? None! I'm betting the teens avoid church this weekend so they don't have to witness it. Thanks for the warning, Rev. Young.
And, if this church happens to be one of those that frowns upon birth control, it can look forward to a baby boom nine months from now. The teenagers can look on that as a whole school year's worth of evidence that her parents still have sex. Ooooh!
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Not until the end, when they were all standing on the platform together, little blonde girls and dark-haired ones; bright-smiled, clean cut white men next to grinning, handsome black men. And there, on that platform, a shot of a middle-aged white woman with her arm around a young black man, squeezing his shoulder as they both beamed at the unending sea of people. That one picture made the tears begin as I realized: It doesn't matter who's white or black or alike or different. We're all one. We're all in this together and we did this. Now, we're starting again.
I know that the world will not be suddenly perfect and I know that I had promised I would never trust a politician again, but I want to trust this man. I want to believe that whatever he does, he is trying to make things better. I fear for him already, the challenges he must face. But he promised his girls a puppy and he has promised us so much more. And I think he'll try.
Monday, November 03, 2008
I stood there 90 feet up in the air, ready to jump and slide among the treetops. "Wheeeeee!" I yelled as I zoomed along. But on the ride, whooshing along a cable that stretched between multi-colored trees in the Hocking Hills, I had to remind myself.
"Pay attention! Enjoy this moment!"
So much of my life is spent planning the next step in my too busy life. I don't even write down much of it, instead filing it in my head until it is too full to hold it all. Two kids to swim. One needs new shoes. Don't forget the orthodontist appointment. Need to grade those papers and don't forget to plan for Wednesday's class.
The thing I have the hardest time with, as my husband can attest, is living in the moment -- putting away all of those extra things and concentrating on the pleasure or pain that awaits me. I have a hard time with now.
So, as I was zipping through the trees on a brisk fall day, I remembered to remind myself. "Concentrate!"
And I did. I felt the cold air sting my cheeks as my mouth opened in a yelp and a smile. I forgot about being a mom and a wife and a teacher for a little while and just enjoyed the thrill of jumping off a platform to fly over a chasm below.
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