More Lessons From My Son

My alarm rang out this morning - its sound, along with the noisy tapping of heavy rain on our window, coaxing me out of my slumber.  Stretching, I forced my legs out from under the covers and over the side of the bed.  It's Andrew's birthday, I remembered.  Early in the morning five years ago, Andrew made his way into the world, a loud cry announcing his arrival.  That day marked a significant turning point for me; life has not been the same since his coming.  Celebration, joy, stress, impatience, love, fear, uncertainty, protection, weariness, laughter - these feelings and others more intense than ever before.  Securing my heart with his smile, my little Andrew's vulnerability and innocence demanded that my well-being be intertwined with his, that his joy would be my joy and his suffering my suffering.  Our lives are braided, even knotted together.

(I'm sure that he won't want to be braided or knotted to me in a few short years from now, so I remind myself to enjoy the present.)

Andrew wanted to share soft pretzels with his school friends to celebrate his birthday, so I rose early both to celebrate the time of Andrew's birth and to make the pretzels.  Ten cups of flour were needed for the dough.  I counted...
one...
two...
three...
four...
five...
and then was distracted with another thought.  I'm still not sure exactly how much flour was in that dough.  Still waking up, I felt grumpy, frustrated with my inability to complete this simple task, and afraid that the pretzels would be a disaster.  I pictured a bunch of preschoolers vocalizing their disgust after tasting Andrew's "treats".

Then I remembered a story that I heard while touring the Sturgis Pretzel Factory a few months ago.  Our tour guide explained that hard pretzels came into being as the result of an error in making soft pretzels; legend has it that a baker left the soft pretzels in the oven too long.  He decided to try a burnt pretzel, and was surprised to find that it was actually quite good.  Coincidentally, CBS News was filming during our tour; you can hear the highlights from the story (and see us around 2 minutes into the video) here.

Andrew, Amelia, and Natalie, after touring the Sturgis Pretzel Factory

This memory provided some comfort.  A baking error can result in something just as good as the original.  In fact, something new can be birthed from a "mistake".  For a perfectionist like me, stories such as these, where deviation from rules or instructions have a positive outcome, are life-giving.  They're freeing.  It seems that missteps are often necessary for making the world creative and interesting.  The ability to make and recover from mistakes allows movement and progress without the fear of error.

As a mom, I've struggled to encourage my kids to be their true selves, and to allow mistakes for the value of the teaching and learning opportunities that result.  I have my own, often selfish, standards and ideas and goals for the ways that I'd like them to perform and the people I'd like them to become.  Andrew has his own, very unique, personality and humor seen as early as his ultrasound photos.  He's sensitive, helpful, and social.  He is not a perfect child; at times, he's disobedient, disrespectful, and even mean.  But to me, he is lovable and valuable despite moments of bad behavior or poor choices.  God has graciously given him to me as a gift, so that I may learn important lessons such as these: we're valuable because we exist, not because of what we do (or don't do), and being our true selves brings joy, blessing, and beauty to the world.  Happy birthday Andrew!

An Unexpected Opportunity

We were enjoying a quiet day at home following a busy weekend.  Some clothes purging and organization, a little catching up on email, and finalizing plans for Andrew's birthday were making for a positive and productive start to the week.  Feeling energized and inspired, I even taught my kids a Bible verse.  For months, even years, I've been meaning to work on Scripture memorization with the kids, hoping that it would give them a right foundation that would be helpful in making decisions, maintaining perspective during difficult times, and believing truth about themselves and their relationships with God.

Rejoice in God always; again I will say, rejoice!  (Philippians 4:4)  Singing a childhood song based on this verse, I hoped that Andrew would allow the words to sink in.  I instructed him to try to remember the words of the song whenever he's having a hard day or feeling sad or scared.  I told him how I struggle with remembering God's goodness when things aren't going my way, but that recalling words like these shape my thinking and attitude.  They are transformative.

As I paused to ponder what to say next, I gazed out the kitchen door to our deck, and I caught a glimpse of this:

Note the very long snake hanging out on our deck.

I stepped back in surprise, shock even.  We live in the city; we aren't supposed to have creatures like this lurking in our backyards.  Cockroaches, yes.  Mice, yes.  Stray cats, yes.  Long, scary snakes, NO!

I have to confess that despite the repetition of the verse just seconds before this situation, I was not praising God for the snake.  I got on the phone, first with Dave, and then with emergency responders, who I'm sure thought I was crazy, and referred me to a critter control company.  In my mind, this was much bigger than critter control.  When I called Dave a second time, he suggested that I ask my next-door neighbors for help.

Now my neighbors moved in nearly one year ago, but I still don't know them very well.  Most times when I'm walking by their house, I'm getting ready to go somewhere, and I'm in a frenzy because we're late and the kids are not listening to my stress-filled instructions.  Honestly, I'm a little ashamed of my behavior, and this is my excuse for not initiating.  Anthony and Angela are parents to a very charming one-year-old.  Anthony is kind, calm, and strong.  And he works second shift.  Realizing that Anthony might be home, Dave also had a feeling that Anthony would not be afraid of snakes, and may even like them.  

Anthony seemed to welcome the opportunity to handle the snake.  He walked out onto our deck, and after taking a quick look at it, picked him up, told me that it was likely someone's pet, said he would take it home until someone came to inquire about it, and asked if I'd like him to search our backyard for more snakes.  Holding back tears, I thanked Anthony and watched him take the snake home with him (sorry Angela).

We've had quite the week with critters at our house: a spider on our bed, a millipede with me in the shower, termites in our woodpile, ants in our kitchen, and now a snake on our deck.  (I assure you, this isn't normal; our house is typically pest-free, at least I think it is!)  Each time, I've wanted a superman to come to my rescue - someone to swoop in and remove the nuisance, to lift the fear and burden.  I'm feeling thankful that sometimes our difficult or scary situations lead us to ask for help and depend on others, even others we don't know very well.  Today this snake led to communication and relationship with my neighbors.  It even resulted in an invitation to ask for help in the future.  For this, I am grateful.  In this, I can rejoice.

Joan's Gift

I've been friends with "Joan" for more than eight years.  I first met her during a time of excitement and transition for me (and for her too); she moved into the apartment that I shared with my sister and another friend just weeks before I got married.  Right from the start, she was a blessing to me.  I remember her helping to set up our wedding reception room and jumping in to help with some of the logistical challenges of our wedding day.

Our friendship grew out of those early acts of service as well as a common desire to grow to know God better.  Over the years, she's also been our housemate, babysitter, and my accountability partner.  I trust her with my deepest secrets; she is a true friend.  So of course I was eager to meet her sister, who was in town visiting from California last week.  Plans were made to meet her sister along with a couple of Joan's current housemates at our local farmer's market for lunch.

As we arrived at market and sought to track down our friends, I pulled out my shopping list.  I don't usually carry much cash, and I knew that we may need to skimp a little when purchasing lunch; otherwise, I wouldn't have enough for the groceries that I needed.  I was distracted with this financial challenge when I found our friends.  After we made plans for a meeting place and I left to find lunch, Joan's housemate stopped me and handed me some money.  He explained that Joan wanted to pay for each of our lunches.  My first response was to refuse the money.  I asked why she would want to do that for us.  It was so unexpected and seemed so unnecessary.  "Because Joan is Joan," was his reply.

Perhaps some background information would be helpful here.  Admittedly, I've always been a stingy person.  As I was sharing this story with some friends from church, we joked about how the emphasis on simple living among Mennonites sometimes has this affect.  Raising two kids on a single income has made this character trait more pronounced.  I've been seeing how a lot of my decisions revolve around money and how not to spend any.

So Joan's act may have seemed like a small gesture, but its impact on me was great.  I ended the mental gymnastics of how to buy $30 worth of food with $20 and the agonizing over the impact of each purchase.  I bought everything on my shopping list.  I bought lunch.  And I even bought a couple of cookies as a special treat.  I felt free, like a burden had lifted.

Joan's generosity is like God's generosity.  None of us really has what we need; we all come up short.  We can spend lots of time making plans for how we can get eternal life, for how we can be good enough.  But it won't work.  We can't make $20 into $30.  We will never have what we need without a gift from someone else.  But God, being God, stepped in and gave us Jesus.  I spend a lot of time questioning God, wondering why He allows bad things to happen, worrying that He is stingy.  But He's truly generous, extravagant, lavish.  He loves us.  He gave us His Son.   We are free to live - really live - not a life where we focus on our lack and how to account for it - not a life where there is never enough.  But instead, a life where our true needs are taken care of.

Water Makes Me Smile

Today is World Water Day.  Not unlike a birthday, the holiday encourages us to take time to be grateful for water, and to hope for its presence, health, and abundance in the future.

I've been working on trying to use creative means to express gratitude for various things in my life.  This is definitely a stretch for me - I've never seen myself as a creative person.  Today, as I was reading up on water conservation, I found a link to some poetry composed by some New York City public school 5th graders.  Feeling inspired, I thought I'd write my own poem (please keep in mind that the last time I scripted a poem may have been when I was a 5th grader!)...

Water grants the deepest of joys
Giver of life
In you we splash and jump
You bind us together in happy memories
We marvel, we wonder, we celebrate


Bubbling, flowing, rushing 
You're a fountain of beauty being poured out

On you, on me
Making us clean and new
Cooling the heat on the inside
Healing us



OR

Roses are red, violets are blue.
I'm grateful for water.
I hope you are too!

Maybe you have your own poem to share.  I'd love to hear from you!

No Toilet, No Bride

I remember feeling glad a few mornings ago, when, as my body was bent in an awkward position in an attempt to scrub our toilet, I realized that sometimes it's nice to have one toilet instead of two.  After all, it makes for less toilet-cleaning for me.  There have been times when I've longed for an extra toilet - when my kids were potty-training, or when we've had guests in our home.  Often, I don't remember to be thankful that we have a toilet.  In some parts of the world, this is considered a luxury.  How often I forget that we are living among the richest of the rich, by the world's standards.

It's hard to picture how the lack of toilets impacts life for people, especially women, all over the world.  Sorry men, but I think it's a little different for you.  In our city, it's not terribly shocking, but still disturbing, to see men huddling next to a tree or ducking into an alley (including the alley between our house and our neighbor's house) to relieve themselves.  A friend once told me that when his family was on a missionary assignment a few years back, the region where they were living stressed that men pee whenever, and wherever, they felt it necessary.  To hold it would increase their chances of impotence, they thought.  (A funny side-note - this led to some questions about the word impotence from my friend's 11-year-old son, who was sitting at the dinner table with us when this story was told.)  Yet in some places in the world, there are considerably more public restrooms for men than for women.  Being a woman, I know that I'm likely a little biased, but this makes no sense to me.

Sometimes, even that men have access to the same number of toilets as women seems ridiculous.  I was reminded of this last week when I had jury duty.  When we were dismissed for formal bathroom brakes, the women's line snaked out the bathroom door and around the corner.  Meanwhile, there was no line for the men's bathroom.   We women joked about how we needed to stage a take-over of the men's bathroom.  Men, you can let me know if I'm wrong, but women just have more reason for access to private toilets.  Pregnant women coping with the frequent urge to pee, menstruating women dealing with "that time of the month", for as much as we try to control and hide it, we're leaking when we like to be clean, so we're feeling the need to take care of it.  And we always have to sit and wipe.  Come on now; all of this just takes time.  There should be more stalls for women than for men.  It almost makes me wonder if when men enter their bathrooms, they're swallowed up in some kind of toilet heaven, where there is a private stall for every man, and they can ease in and out and be back and ready for action, making the women look foolish.  Those silly women, taking too long in the bathroom again.  They're probably chatting, or fixing their make-up.

OK, that was probably entirely too much information.  And I'm getting a little carried away.  FOCUS!

I love the "No Toilet, No Bride" movement in India, initiated by the Haryana government, encouraging potential brides and their parents to refuse potential grooms who don't have toilets in their homes.  A world of difference this makes in the bride's future - no waiting for access to a public toilet and running water when she wakes in the morning, no concern about rape or violence due to the search for a safe and secluded spot to take care of her business, less worry that her daughters will miss school because their school has no toilet (learn more here and here).  Maybe this movement will call attention to the fact that all people, males and females, should have access to basic sanitation, bringing dignity and hope, and eventually allowing for more education, more productivity, and more meaningful work for women.  To read more about it, and to learn what a "flying toilet" is, please check out New York Times article The Female Factor: Improving Women's Status, One Bathroom at a Time.

Snow-running and Related Reflections

The day started with a welcome, early morning phone message delivering good news-the school year's first snow delay.  At our house, these messages result in smiles, cheers, or sighs of relief.  Dave would get some additional, much-needed sleep.  And I would get to run in the snow.  I love running in the snow, so I layered on my clothes and laced up my shoes, feeling grateful for this unexpected gift.  Lately, running has felt like a chore-just another task to check off of my to-do list, just something I do to keep from feeling guilty and gaining weight.  This morning was different.

I shuffled down the quiet streets, reflecting on my fascination with snow-running.  Even though I dislike the cold, I love the snow.  Like a soft, comfy blanket with nourishing powers, the snow dances fluidly toward the earth and covers us.  It makes us clean.  It makes us quiet.  It makes us calm.  The snow grants us an excuse to slow down and to find joy in simple things.  It causes us to pause and to see beauty.

When I run in the snow, I am at peace.

When I run in the snow, I often marvel over the fact that no two snowflakes are alike.  Sometimes, that marveling leads to thoughts of Snowflake Bentley and then smiles and even giggles as I remember how I first heard about him.  It was several winters ago, when Dave was still a bachelor and was living with his friend Tim.  Tim told us a story of this farmer-man who lived in New England and was passionate, even obsessed, with snowflakes.  Wilson Bentley's claim to fame is that he was the first to theorize that no two snowflakes are alike, based on thousands of pictures and observations that he made about snowflakes during many a snowy winter in Vermont.  After Tim told us the history of Mr. Bentley, which already seemed a little far-fetched to us, he then went a little further and insisted that he was related to him.  Knowing Tim, we had to believe that he was just joking and having a good time.  I'm not sure that we gave Snowflake Bentley another passing thought, at least until Tim and Erin named their second child after him.

Then we started to believe Tim, and after some research, found that the tale that Tim told of his famous relative is actually true.  Amazing-a boy is fascinated with the snow as he grows up on a farm.  He (and his family) sacrifice to allow him to pursue his passion.  He rigs up his own contraption to take photos of the snow crystals and begins to chronicle his findings.  People in his hometown think he's crazy.  But scientists around the world begin to believe him and acknowledge his great contribution to science.  In this article, Bentley calls himself the preserver.  He helps people to understand and appreciate the intricate beauty and design of a snowflake-that each one is different based on several different factors impacting its creation.  This kind of beauty is all around us-we just need to take the some time to study our surroundings.  Beauty takes time.

As the story goes, Snowflake Bentley died when he contracted pneumonia after a long walk during a blizzard.  Here's to hoping we can honor his memory by pointing others toward that which is beautiful today.

"Under the microscope, I found that snowflakes were miracles of beauty; and it seemed a shame that this beauty should not be seen and appreciated by others. Every crystal was a masterpiece of design and no one design was ever repeated., When a snowflake melted, that design was forever lost. Just that much beauty was gone, without leaving any record behind."

-Wilson A. "Snowflake" Bentley, 1925

I *heart* my potty!

The marathon is just 2 days away!  As I begin finalizing plans and packing my things for the weekend, I think through all of the marathon-related logistics.  Honestly, one of the things I'm most concerned about is being able to find and use a toilet at the appropriate times before and potentially during the race.  Sounds silly, doesn't it?  But for those of you who have run in races (or have run at all), or have gone hiking or camping, or have tried to potty-train a child, you know that potty absence can be a real issue.   A bathroom or even a port-a-potty at the right moment is quite the welcome sight!

In case you didn't know, today is World Toilet Day, the day that we thank God for toilets and bring awareness to the fact that there are many people in our world (2.6 billion...that's close to half of the world's population) who don't have adequate access to proper sanitation.  Imagine what it would be like to have no certain place to go to the bathroom...if you had to worry for your privacy and safety.   Think about how your life would change if you needed to wonder whether there is poo in your water. (Yes, I ask my children to not talk about poop, at least not in public, but today, and for this purpose, it seems totally appropriate).

This is an important issue because people are drinking water that has been in contact with poo.  The dirty water gives them diarrhea, which leads to sickness and even death, especially among children.  Access to something as simple as a working toilet brings dignity, health, hope, and peace.

So be thankful for your potty today!

And speak out for those who don't have one. 

Tennis Elbow

(Just as a warning, this entry is pretty self-focused, with some details about how I've been feeling physically leading into marathon week.  For those of you not into the details of my running life, it's best that you skip this one...)

Shortly after posting an update on my blog this past weekend, I started experiencing some pain in my elbow.  Those of you who know me well have heard about the little mishap I had in high school that ended in a trip to the hospital and some surgery (it's a good story...feel free to ask me about it some time when you need a laugh).  On Saturday, near the sight of my old injury, my arm started to swell and turn red.  Family members were laughing about my tennis elbow, not because I had tennis elbow, but because it looked like I had a tennis ball lodged in my elbow.  I was starting to feel anxious about how this unknown and very strange development was going to alter my marathon-running plans.  My mind began to think through worst-case scenarios: I am going to need to make a trip to the ER...I am going to need surgery to fix this weird elbow problem...we are going rack up lots of health care costs and they won't even count toward next year's high deductible...I won't be able to run my marathon.

The human body puzzles me at times.  I'm not sick often, but I've had my fair share of strange body aches, rashes, and other unknown ailments, especially in the last few years.  I'm not sure if it's that I'm getting older, or if it's that I became a mom during that time, but lately, I've become more aware of the truth that, even if I run several times per week, sleep well, avoid addictions, and try to eat all of the right things, I'm so not in control of my own body.  It's scary.  I feel more comfortable when I can trick myself into thinking that I'm in control.  I can't do that when my body is doing strange and unpredictable things.

Just like access to water, our good health is not something to be taken for granted.  It's not a given.  It can be taken away from us at any point.  I feel like it's at times like these, when things seem a little more uncertain, that I thank God more for the "small" things.  Thank you, God, that my elbow seems a little less swollen.  Thanks that it's no longer red and the pain has gone down.  Father, thank you that you've sustained me through a marathon training season.  Thanks that I get to run in this marathon.

I'm also thankful for a good friend who called me last night, asked how I was doing, encouraged me to dwell in the truth that God will take care of me, and prayed for me.  I'm taking small steps toward grasping a better perspective when the unexpected comes my way.

Water's True Cost

Dave did it!  He fixed a leak in our bathtub faucet that had been plaguing us for months.  And he did it without needing to shut off the water to all of our house.  Our tub, thankfully, has its own water shut off valve, unlike our dishwasher.  Since I started this blog, I had been feeling at least a little convicted that we needed to do something about this leak.  After all, I've been trying to discipline myself to be grateful for the water we have and mindful of our water consumption.  Having an obvious leak in our bathroom doesn't really fit with that.

After our water walk, we kept one of the containers that we used to transport water (a gallon-sized apple juice container) to put under the leaky faucet, and we would periodically use the water to flush our toilet.  This helped us to calculate that the faucet was leaking nearly 2 gallons of water per day.  To delve into this a little further, we'll have to do some math (yay!): our family of 4 pays $30-$35 every 3 months for the 11,000 or so gallons of water that we use during that time period.  So we were paying roughly $0.003 per gallon, or less than one cent per day, due to our leaky faucet.  I have to admit that, given our very low cost of water, it was difficult to feel motivated to buy the parts required to fix the leak and to make time for the fix;  being compelled to make this change was about more than just the money.

Last week, I bumped into a friend unexpectedly.  We chatted for a little while before she mentioned that she needed to get back to her house to talk with her landlord about her extreme water bill...around $270 for 3 months of water usage!   I was feeling upset for my friend, knowing that there was something very clearly wrong (an error in the water meter reading?  a serious leak...but wouldn't that be obvious?) and fearing that maybe she would be held responsible for the financial consequence.  How could anyone be expected to pay that kind of water bill?  But as I pondered this, I started to wonder...

Would our water consumption habits change if we regularly incurred bills of $270 per quarter instead of $30 per quarter for our water usage?  At what point would we start to care?

In her article titled The Next Big Ideas in Conservation: Paying Water's Real Costs, Carmen Revenga, senior scientist with the Nature Conservancy, states that the price you pay for water is but a small fraction of what it actually costs to extract water, deliver it to users, and treat it after its use.  She argues that once we start purchasing water at something closer to its real cost, that not only would we respond by using less water, but there would also be money for things like upgrading inefficient water distribution systems, protecting our existing water supply, and bringing water to people who don't currently have water access.





Trust me, I'm not excited about another bill increase.  So how can we be responsible for water's true cost right now without paying higher water bills?  Let's start with some of the following water conservation practices:

• Turn off the water while we brush our teeth, wash our hands, and do our dishes.
• Take shorter showers.  Take fewer showers.
• Purchase water-saving/efficient appliances.
• Run only full loads of laundry and dishes.
• Install rain barrels and use the water for our garden and flowers (hopefully more on rain barrels later this week).
• Go to a car wash, where wash water is recycled, or use rain water to wash our cars.
• Wear a clothing item/use a towel more than once before washing it.  If it isn't dirty, don't wash it.
• Check for leaks and fix them.
• Compost food waste instead of using the garbage disposal.
• Protect our water supply - get involved in a local watershed group, plant trees and vegetation along streams, dispose of trash in the appropriate place (let's not sweep leaves or pour oil into our storm drains!).
• Be grateful for the water we have.  Remembering that access to clean water is a privilege will help us to use less of it.

The Weight of Water

Have you ever had the opportunity to walk in someone else's shoes?  Halloween was yesterday, so lots of us have recently pretended to be someone (or something!) other than ourselves.  Most times, it's fun to put on a mask and, for a moment, to forget about worries, fears, or pressing deadlines.  Sometimes we daydream about being someone who possesses something we don't have: perhaps someone with a special skill or talent, or someone who has a coveted job or relationship.  But have you ever imagined yourself to be someone who is suffering in some way? 

Yesterday, in an effort to imagine life for millions of people in this world who lack access to a close and reliable source of clean water, we took some time to walk to get our water.  Our first journey was with the kids of Crossroads Mennonite Church.  They've spent the last 8 weeks learning about water issues using the Mennonite Central Committee water curriculum.  We walked about 1/3 mile to the house of a couple of the kids' teachers, collected water, and walked back.  Then they made hot chocolate and tea with the water and sold it for donations to World Vision for clean water projects in Kenya.  The kids raised $44.02!!  I'm hoping and praying that this experience, along with the last 8 weeks of lessons, makes a lasting impression on the children.  Their excitement and encouragement certainly made an impression on me!  (Thanks again so much Ken, Hadia, Alice, Fenny, and many others at Crossroads Church for your generosity, hospitality, and encouragement!)

After the hot chocolate, Ken, Hadia, Kiri, Dave, our kids, and I made our way down to the river to complete our own water walk.  This journey was nearly one mile (0.85 miles to be exact!) each way.  We filled 14 gallon-sized milk jugs in the river and then carried them back up the hill using backpacks (was this cheating?), hands, and even our heads for a short time.  The weight of one gallon of water is 8.34 pounds, and most of us were carrying 3 gallons, so we were lugging around 25 pounds per person.  Based on the statistics I've read, it's common for women to carry 40 pounds at a time for distances of 3-4 miles from the water source, so we were a little short on both weight and distance.  It was enough to give us plenty to consider, though.

A couple of things were particularly surprising.  One was that the walk back didn't seem so bad.  It's not comfortable for me to carry 2 gallons of milk from the convenience store that's just a few blocks from my house, so I was expecting the water walk to be more of a struggle.  I'm wondering if things would have been different had I completed the walk by myself.  I think that having others to share in the effort made it bearable.  I was reminded that I can complete difficult tasks and make it through hardships if I know that I'm not alone, that someone is walking with me.  I also realized that our simulation was also much different than the real thing.  Our trip to get water was a one-time event.  I imagine that it is wearying to think about using this method to get water day after day after day.  We had no threat of violence on our journey, like some women and children do.  We weren't going to use our water for drinking or cooking, so for us, there was no risk of getting sick.  We didn't lose any significant amount of time for school, meaningful work, hobbies, or rest.  These are some of the real burdens for those who lack easy access to water; this is the true weight of water.

I was also curious why no one stopped us to ask what we were doing.  I'm sure we must have looked a little out of place in our caravan with our large backpacks and our water-filled milk jugs; I expected some questions or at least some puzzled looks!  Maybe this was the part of the simulation that most resembles real life.  How many people are stopping to ask why, when there is so much wealth and so much technology in our world, are there so many people who are still truly suffering due to a lack of clean water?

After a mile in someone else's shoes, I'm feeling especially grateful for my water today.


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In case you're wondering, we used the 14 gallons of river water to flush the toilet in our house!

If you would like to donate money to fund World Vision's clean water projects in Kenya, please visit my fundraising page.  Thanks!

Entitlement

I recall my college years with super fond memories.  I am so grateful for all of the opportunities that I had to learn and grow.  Recently though, I've noticed that I feel entitled to certain things, and that sense of entitlement has made life difficult because I don't have many of those things.  I've been trying to figure out where this thinking comes from, and lately, at least, I've concluded that my college experience is partially to blame.

I wasn't especially aware of them at the time, but the messages (some direct and some not-so-direct) were clear.  I was attending a premier educational institution.  Consequently, if I could manage to get good grades, I'd be assured an outstanding job... one with prestige and, of course, a good paycheck; I would be successful and have everything that I need and want; I could live a secure, comfortable, and socially acceptable life; I will, in fact, have "made it".

These are, of course, empty promises.  Education does not ensure security, comfort, or acceptance (I recognize there is room for argument here...education is a privilege and does seem to guarantee some level of payoff).  Life happens, and I made some choices.  For me, not every employer, potential or actual, was so impressed by my good grades and college name.  And I've had my own doubts, fearing that perhaps I chose the wrong major in college.  Then came kids, further complicating things.  For others, it's unexpected crises, such as illness, divorce, or unemployment, which destroy the promise of the picture-perfect life.  Regardless of the cause, unmet expectations are hard to deal with.  I bought into the empty promises, and to the degree that I believed the promises, I'm left to deal with my disappointment.  I'm not living the life that my college education promised to deliver, and I struggle with that sometimes, despite the fact that I made some choices that led me here.

In his book titled Counterfeit Gods, Tim Keller writes the following:  Everyone tends to live in a particular socioeconomic bracket.  Once you are able to afford to live in a particular neighborhood, send your children to its schools, and participate in its social life, you will find yourself surrounded by quite a number of people who have more money than you.  You don't compare yourself to the rest of the world, you compare yourself to those in your bracket.  The human heart always wants to justify itself and this is one of the easiest ways.  You say, "I don't live as well as him or her or them.  My means are modest compared to theirs."  You can reason and think like that no matter how lavishly you are living.  (page 52)

I confess that I spend a lot of time comparing myself to others in my "bracket", which makes me feel like I am entitled to more...more money, a nicer house, plentiful job options.  Sometimes, I've found it helpful to take a step back and put things in perspective.  Last fall, I received a giving catalog, which pictured various items like animals, school supplies, and farming equipment that I could purchase to give at Christmas-time as an alternative to traditional Christmas gifts.  Among the potential gifts included in the catalog was a home that I could purchase for $1,200.  I kept that giving catalog in our magazine rack for a long time, so that when I was feeling tempted to complain about my house, I could take a look at the $1,200 shelter that someone in some other part of the world would feel very grateful to receive and feel grateful myself.  It served as a reminder that I AM living the good life.  I have "made it".  I have so much to be thankful for.

I don't have this figured out.  I struggle with several questions:

What exactly are we entitled to in this life?

How does our sense of entitlement impact how we use our money?

Should everyone around the world be entitled to a clean and reliable water source?

I'd love to hear your thoughts!