Natural Beauty

Found here

For some time I have been trying to change my hairstyle. I have felt vexed by wearing the same style for nearly 20 years. The one reprieve during that time was in 2002 when I had just lost 35 lbs and had a thinner face with more defined cheekbones. My hairstyle had been what I would call short, spiky, and sassy. Now as a 'woman of substance' I look too full-faced with my hair brushed back from my face in that '80s look.My stepdaughters have commented that I should do this or that with my hair but I summarily dismissed their remarks because they are teenagers and I have pretty much resigned myself that whatever I do not be exactly right, including how I dress or what I do with my hair. But this year when we were visiting Stepdaughter #3 in Puerto Rico, she asked what I would do with my hair for her big sister's wedding in July. I didn't know. She suggested that I grow out my hair because she would like it (this is the same girl that suggested that I wear chartreuse nail polish). Why not? I've grown my hair since March.
I have almost shaved my head a hundred times since March.

It's hard to find a good hairstylist who can catch the vision that you don't really have yourself of how you might look with an updated hairstyle. It didn't help that we've moved in the last two years and I've been trying to find someone in our neighborhood to patronize. I went to several hairstylists and always came out unhappy. I either looked like my mother in 1963, or my hair would be flat to my head, or cut above my ears, giving me the appearance of an egg with fuzz on top. Sam's eyes would narrow as I'd come in the door and he'd ask in an agonizing tone, "Honey, why do you go to these people who do this to you?" After washing and styling my hair myself (back to that 1980s style--hair brushed back from my face, tucked behind my ears on either side, bangs curled and over my forehead), we'd both agree that it wasn't as bad as I'd looked walking in the house. But I knew I was about 20 years behind the times and Sam kindly never mentioned how outdated I looked.

Last Tuesday afternoon I met with Megan at a place called Salon Strut. Either I would come out strutting, or it would look like I just had my struts replaced. Both held possibilities. Megan is about 22 and had dyed orange hair that is folded over her head and held in place with a clip on one side. The back looks like it was dried with a high power fan--it stiffly shoots out in all directions. She could not have been nicer or more accommodating, however. I took her a couple pictures of hairstyles that I liked and she talked me into "something really easy and updated" that had elements of the look that appealed to me. It's an updated shag haircut.

It was fascinating to watch her style my hair after the cut. She suggested that I would look younger if I were to wear my hair with side bangs (bangs are not straight down, but swept over to one side) and the sides not tucked behind my ears, but moved toward my face on either side instead. As she talked, Megan flipped my hair up and out all around the sides and back, and dried my hair back and forth over the top of my head. "You have wonderful hair," she murmured as she jhuzhed my hair. "This is jhuzhing and you need to do lots of it with this hairstyle. No more round brush. Just use your hands to separate out your hair and then give it shape." It all looked simple, and I took note of the product she used. Phomolient and some kind of pomade to separate out the strands once it was dry. Yes, I could do that.

When she finished and I looked in the mirror I was amazed. My hair looked much darker (must be that pomade) and I looked 10 years younger. Sam would like this! I told her that I have lots of hair product at home that I have been using right along, and I think I could style my hair with that.

Sam got up off the couch when I came in the house and remarked, "Now that's pretty, Honey!" I fairly floated up the stairs to our room, where I set out the requisite products for Wednesday's styling. I could hardly wait for the Big Reveal at work.

I was so excited Wednesday morning that I leaped out of bed at 5:30 and took a shower. Couldn't wait to try the new styling techniques. But since Sam was still asleep, I just laid out my new clothes that I'd gotten so all of me would look different that day. When finally I did my hair, Sam stood by watching. "Is that how she told you to dry your hair?" he asked cautiously. "Yes," I replied with an air of superiority. "No more round brush. She said I can use my head as the round brush and dry my hair over the top using the curve of my skull." I leaned my head to one side and my wet hair fell to the left. "See?"
He seemed unconvinced but hurriedly kissed me and left for work. When my hair was dry (and standing on end), I put some hair pomade in my hand and even between my fingers, just as Megan instructed me to do. "Work it in at the roots" I said aloud, echoing her advice. I pulled my bangs over to one side and slid the pomade through them. Into my new outfit and one last look in the mirror. "Well, this isn't exactly what I looked like yesterday, but I'm not really used to the look yet, so maybe this isn't entirely right."
It wasn't even close. My bangs looked like a grease slick and my hair fanned out on the sides like my sister's prom pictures from the 1960s. I tried to ignore the hair pushed forward on my cheeks. That might drive me crazy, but at least I had a new look. Now I just needed to update my wardrobe to complete the look.
During the day I jhuzhed my hair and followed Megan's instructions to "use your fingers to jhuzh your hair during the day so the heat of your hands can reactivate the product and restore your style." By the time I walked in to my group therapy class at noon, my hair was flat to my head and looked like a staticky silk helmet in a style that made me look like a henchman. Mercifully, no one commented on my new look.

On Thursday, I tried again while Sam stood by to encourage, cajole, and then just plain annoy me with his helpful suggestions. "No Honey, that's not going to get you the right look. I don't think it helps to dry your hair with your head upside down." I fought back the words, "Oh really? Then let's see what you can do with it?" and continued on "giving body through postural elements." How could I have been so stupid to believe such a thing could happen? Postural elements? Either this girl was inarticulate or this was a term she had learnt in cosmetology school. There were no recognizable elements visible, postural or otherwise, as I stood back upright and surveyed the damage in the mirror. Bozo the clown was more like what I looked like now. Sam doubled up with laughter. "Honey, get back in the shower and start over." I was running late and didn't have time to do that so I hastened him on his way to work and tried to fight my hair into submission. The pomade, AKA "Hair Control Creme" was not working and I was about to forget myself. My hair shot out in all directions and my bangs wouldn't go to the side. They hung straight down limply--not even the '80s curl in them. I tucked my hair behind my ears and rushed out the door to class. Again, no comments about my new look. I tried to avoid mirrors and to act natural.
When I got home in the evening Sam took one look at me and asked, "Why did you get a style that is so hard to do?" My muttered comments about not wanting to look old and how easy it looked in the salon did not offer anything to the conversation and I quit the room. Perhaps I could go back to Megan and have her show me once again how to style this mess.

Friday morning found me sitting at Megan's station in Salon Strut. She had me dry my hair in front of her and then she "pieced it out" --put the Hair Control Creme in her hands, between her fingers, and she worked magic on my head. I just love how it looks when she does it. I left the salon feeling confident that I could recreate this look. What had I done wrong? I left out the teasing at the crown of my head, and I hadn't dried my hair right. I need to jhuzh everything except the bangs and then it would look how it should. My students commented enthusiastically about my hair and I called Mother triumphantly: "When you see me tonight, my hair will look the way it's supposed to." She couldn't wait.

I speak once a month at Mother's retirement center, so I was particularly happy to be able to walk into the meeting room with the new haircut. Mother's mouth fell open and her eyes widened as she came right over to where I was sitting. "What happened?" she asked in horror.
"What do you mean, what happened?" I retorted. "This is how it looks."Mother began laughing and wheezing. "Really?"
"It's not a style for the over 80 crowd, but it's an updated style that is supposed to look tousled and young."
Mother admitted that my hair looks darker and I do look younger this way. But when she returned to sit with her group, I could hear her whisper loudly to her friend, Evelyn, "It's supposed to look that way." There were giggles all around, even though after the meeting, several people said my new look was "very becoming."

Yesterday morning I washed my hair twice and had a meltdown before going out the door to church. The bangs aren't right and there was no amount of jhuzhing that could induce my hair to flip out at the sides as Megan could make it do. I pulled my bangs to the side and put more Hair Control Creme in my fingers to give it one last hurrah before I slunk out the door to the car. Suffice it to say, there were no comments about my hair in church. Sam and I sat near the back, and when Mother turned around to wave at us, she thought I was someone else sitting with Sam. I felt completely demoralized.
Sam and I went out for a hike in the high desert yesterday. There is a lovely spot called Whitewater Preserve where there is a beautiful mountain stream in the middle of nothingness. As we were wading in the ice cold stream, the wind came whistling down the canyon and caught us, nearly knocking us down. My hair flew in all directions and I could barely see where I was going. Sam shouted above the howling wind, "There! Now your hair is looking like the hairstyle."

Tomorrow I am going back to Megan for another styling lesson. Her comment, "If you can't style your hair, what good is my haircut?" is ringing in my ears. Other than getting a wind machine, I'm not sure what to do to get my hair to look right, but I'm not giving up.
Yet.

They're getting bigger!

This is the litter of puppies from which Baxter and Charlie hail. Baxter is at the very back, and Charlie is the brown merle right in front of him. It is difficult to get a clear idea of just how tiny these little guys are, so let me try to explain it this way. The mother is just 15 lbs, and there are five of these little guys. Each was about the size of a small ice cream sandwich. Not flat of course...but just saying.

We've been eagerly waiting to get our weekly pictures of our boys, and every time we receive one I print it off and put it up where we can see it. I know that when these babies get to us our lives will change dramatically. No more taking off on a whim or staying out all day or all night. We'll have to get home to take care of the dogs. We will be like the senior citizens we know who are always worried about feeding the cat or leeting out the dog. But I think this will be good for us, too. We've both wanted dogs for a very long time.



Here is Baxter after his first bath. What a little sweetie boy! You can see how little he is by the size of the woman's hand that is holding him wrapped in a hand towel. Only three more weeks before they come home to us. Can't wait!

Living in the In-Between, Part III

Perhaps no place do I see this issue of polar extremism more than in religion. Especially issues of those who have had some experience of pain associated with their religious experience. This is not a criticism by any means, but rather, an observation. As someone who felt very hurt by my religious group at one time, I well remember pulling away from the church and wishing I could just find someplace else to worship where people weren't socially irresponsible, emotionally inept, or relationally clueless. I wanted nothing to do with my church. So I'd find places where I could try on other religious congregations. I wasn't interested in other beliefs because I felt firm in my own. But the people in my church were problematic.

So on Sabbath morning I'd go and sit in St. Paul cathedral and listen to mass, joining in on the "Our Father" and fading out when the theology went in a wierd direction. It took awhile, but I finally realized that I needed a sacred experience and needed to be with people who believed the same things that I did--no matter how they acted or what they were like. After several weeks I was ensconced in a church with members whom I grew to love and appreciate. For a long time I was content to be as opposite as the "wierd" ones as possible. No one would have guessed my faith affiliation because I was trying not to be like the ones that drove me to distraction. But eventually it became critical for me to examine what I believe, how attached I wanted to be with the church, and whether or not I could commit to a group of people who drove me crazy. It is not at all unlike living in a family, actually.
Now I teach in a church sponsored university, speak almost daily of my faith, and try to contribute to the church in various ways.

I'm glad I went through this experience, as difficult as it was, because now when my students talk about their spiritual issues, it resonates with me. A few weeks ago I asked my students to discuss their spiritual journeys until the present. "What spiritual experiences have you had in your life that influences the way you approach spirituality and religion with your clients?"

It was amazing to me to hear that every single one of them had been raised with fairly strong involvement in a variety of denominations. Most of them tearfully recalled painful family events that made them question everything they ever felt or knew about God and religion. They then went off in the opposite direction in a reaction to their pain. Most were still entrenched in that oppositism. It was a curious thing though, to hear them describe themselves in terms of what they now are not, as opposed to what they are and what their religious ideas are now. They are still living spiritual lives organized around the original faith experiences of their childhoods. It's just that it's an inside-out experience: the opposite, polarized experience.

It struck me that many of them have thrown the baby out with the bath water. There are so many positive features of every religion, and these things should not be discarded in an attempt to leave our shadows behind. But reactive people do this routinely. I have watched lots of people go from church to church, trying to find the perfect place, the right preaching, good fellowship, clear theology, and the right mix of personal freedom and spiritual responsibility. It always feels good as long as the main feature is the opposite of the troublesome feature they so resented when they were offended at church, etc. But over time, things shift and they find another objectionable feature and need to relocate to a place that is the opposite of that. It is difficult to live on the repelling end of a magnet.

People do this all the time with relationships. One ends a relationship because the husband is lazy and doesn't lift a finger to do anything around the house. So the wife vows, as she leaves him, that she will find someone who carries his weight in the chore department. She finds a man who is very handy and who can do anything. This makes her very happy, until she realizes that he isn't affectionate at all. So once again, she is looking for someone who is handy and affectionate. This can become protracted and painful, as in frustration she tells you that she just hates men after all of this.

It takes time to carefully think through what to do about our spirituality and our relationships. We need to consider what is good about these things, and then what else do we need and how we might get them or negotiate issues around these features. I always tell clients who have experienced spiritual abuse, or who are angry at their church, to wait before making any decision about what to do. In the heat of anger they are ready to leave in a huff, jump on some other bandwagon, or go tell someone off in church leadership. If they can hang in there for some months, they might swing back the other direction. In the meantime, they can devote thought and exploration to their own spirituality.
Being differentiated means that we have taken time to get over our reactivity and logically think about what elements of our religion or church body we want to keep and where we want to make changes. We need to stick close for awhile and avoid forfeiting the parts of our affiliation that we truly enjoy, before augmenting or changing some of our practices. We might need to be more in the middle on who we have over from church, or what kinds of issues we talk to other congregants about, how close we want to be to the pastor, or which elements from other denominations we really admire and would like to use for ourselves. This is infinitely better than walking away from all of it.

In Southern California's Inland Empire, we have over 80,000 former church members of my denomination. There are even ex-member organizations where people go and discuss how angry they are at the church and how they have really been worked over by something or someone. An acquaintance went to one of these meetings and chatted with a group of people without letting them know that he is a church member in good standing. Interestingly, the comments of the attendees were decidedly sad, and many explicitly stated how much they miss the church, the subculture, and the practices of the church. All of their conversations were about loss. Why didn't they go back or find something similar? They were invested in being the opposite of the hurtful church or dyamic. It was easier to simply walk away from everying. When they found out that my friend wasn't just like them the conversations stopped cold.

Interesting, isn't it? It is truly difficult not to fishtail wildly in the wake of spiritual or relational trauma. Finding the middle ground that is composed of revised elements and new input, is quite difficult. But well worth it in the long run.

Living in the In-Between, Part II

Differentiation is a big word that describes successful living in the in-between. Rather than being wishy washy and avoiding taking a side, it means that the individual has been able to think critically about the issues and then make a response. It is not a knee-jerk reaction.
There are certain ways we react to thins that almost seems built in. I feel angry when a store clerk calls me "Hon" or "Honey" when I am old enough to be their mother. If someone makes a comment about the shocking weight of someone else, I immediately want to take up for the overweight person. You don't have to be a psychologist to understand that one!

Other people become quite placating and deferent when they are confronted by an angry person. My almost immediate response if I am accused of something is to begin questioning myself as to how I allowed this to happen--to take full responsibility before I know the scoop.

I have dated men in the past who could not allow me to ever pay for anything when we were together. It wasn't just that they were gentlemen, they were almost frightened to think of being given anything. They simply could not receive from anyone else. It made them feel vulnerable to be given anything. Wonder why we never got together?

Many of our reactions to things often form due to the emotional paths of least resistance in the families in which we grew up. We either took on a role of placater, caretaker, family clown, distracter, antigonizer, or rebel. Of course, there are other roles that kids can take in the family. It all depends on what behavior is needed to keep the family in balance, or homeostasis, as it is called.

So kids learn to do certain things or react in specific ways in response to triggers they sense in the behavior of others. It might help them survive or find purpose in the family, but it often doesn't bode well for them over years. And here is a rule: The more the unspoken emotional charge in a family, the more compelled a child feels that they must react in a highly predictable way, and the more reactive they are as adults. This may preserve a sense that the family is harmonious. But it comes at a high cost to the emotional wellbeing of the child.
Fast forward about 20 years. That individual won't be able to tell the difference between their thoughts and their feelings. They just react, out of touch with their feelings and not sure what they really think. They are highly reactive to specific behaviors in other people. The more reactive they are, the more likely to "jump on the bandwagon" and agree with all tenets of some ideology. Moreover, they will become a fierce proponent of the idea and highly reactive to those who disagree. Murray Bowen, one of the founders of family systems theory, stated that this kind of behavior is driven by anxiety. The more emotional charge there is, the less tolerant the individual will be of alternate viewpoints that others may have.

This takes us to finding the middle ground. It is extremely difficult for someone who is highly reactive to be able to locate themselves thoughtfully, on a continuum of views. They will react to what they think is being said or forwarded, but such a person isn't typically thoughtful or able to entertain the possibility that there may be varying shades of truth across a spectrum of related ideas. So they become entrenched and invested in a certain way of thinking and there simply will not be further discussion. Unless it is to press others to adopt their views as well. Because it may be that they have never learned to be who they are fully, in the presence of someone who isn't like they are.

I think that it is quite difficult to thoughtfully, non-emotionally consider how we want to think. That's right: Think about how we think, and not confuse a misguided feeling with a thought.

So as I think about religion, politics, current events, relationships, I need to be careful that I thoughtfully consider as many options as possible as I think about what position I want to take. Is it a position of integrity? Am I overlooking some point that is important to me if I locate myself too far one way or the other on the continuum? The only way to know is if I slow down, take a deep breath, and consider the entire range of possibilities.

Living in the In-Between

Found here

We are all on the edge of our seats watching BP as they are trying to fumble their way through the process of stopping a horrible oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. The original estimate of the amount of oil leaking per day was 2000 gallons. It has now been updated to 200,000 barrels per day. The pressure behind this leak is 70,000 pounds per square inch (psi). Imagine the amount of oil that is mucking up our oceans and coastlines.

As someone from my church leadership wrote in the last 24 hours, this oil leak could completely wipe out all living creatures in the entire ocean (this prediction based on the word of a former ocean oil drill engineer).

Is this the beginning of the end of the world? Could it be one of the first of the seven last plagues listed in the book of Revelation? Will this completely ruin our economy? Will it crash? Is this a portent of things to come? What should we do?

This kind of world event makes those of us whose lives have been focused on the "watching and waiting" commands of Jesus, become quite alert. And yet, it is also easy to tell oneself that these things have happened before and will always be present in our world. So why get worked up and panic--as many Christians do?

It is easy to fall at one or the other extreme end of this conversation: either it doesn't matter that these things happen, and they have little eschatological meaning, or else they are a portent of immediate danger that calls for an immediate and decisive response. It is rare to hear anyone articulate a middle of the road, or more moderate opinion on these kinds of things. Interestingly enough, if Christians from my subculture don't immediately respond with a sense of urgency, they are thought of as nominal Christians. If they do, those who are on the other end of the continuum think of them as religious fanatics. In this, as in many, many other arenas, I ask the question, Where is the moderate, thoughtful response to things like these? Especially when the issue is extremely charged?

Just tonight, as my class watched the videotape of one of the students conducting therapy with a woman who had been convicted of child abuse crimes, we noticed that she reported behavior that was either above reproach--almost too good to be true--or else she was suicidal--all bad. There was no in-between. I reflected to the class that people who abuse others are often so emotionally fragile themselves that on a deep level they can't admit that a part of them is flawed or broken. To do so would put them at the "all bad" end of the continuum. So they try to live at the "all good" end of the continuum, at least in public view. This is how the "pillar of the community" can be a serial killer. It is quite difficult to bring such therapy clients to the place where they can recognize and admit that they are a combination of good qualities, behaviors, and thoughts, and bad tendencies, behaviors, and thoughts. It is an all or nothing proposition. Until they can claim any portion of "badness," they split off the objectionable parts of themselves in their minds and manifest only the superlatively good side. Or, when they can no longer ignore the bottled up "bad" parts of themselves, they act them out without impunity. Their behavior is absolutely evil sometimes, because it is undiluted with goodness. They are at either one end of the continuum or the other, but can't seem to live in the middle.

It seems that it's more of a human quality to try to lean toward one extreme or the other, and that's true in both the emotional and spiritual aspects of our lives. It is more complex to work our way into a more moderate stance. We see the results of this kind of polarizing behavior in America's political climate. We align with either Democrat or Republican and tend to villify the other--everything about them. Again, it is difficult to pick and choose from the variety of legislative initiatives to align with without feeling that we need to embrace the extreme of one side or another.

How do we live in the in-between? Is it a bad thing? Is it worse than throwing out the baby with the bathwater as many of us have done as we skittered to the extreme end of an issue? This is not in any way to disparage those who disseminate religious, political, or other scenarios that seem to polarize. It is an honest question. Is moderation a goal for which we should aim?

I would like to suggest that it takes considerable internal fortitude to be able to sift through options and ideas with which we are presented, whether religious, political, or emotional. It is much easier to scoot to the extreme end, to be caught up with what people are whispering about with furrowed brows, rather than laboriously think about issues that are full of emotional charge. And yet when we fail to do this, we lose out on the good that can be found at both extremes: the "bad" extreme is rejected for it's complete odiousness, and the good extreme, which can't be fully enjoyed because it is rigidly held in its extreme form without being able to see that nothing can be all good. Thus, people at the "good" end actually embrace the negative portions of their ideas at that ideological endpoint, and eschew the good parts of the opposite end of the continuum.

In Part II I will talk about differentiation, what this is, and how it applies to situations like these. Because every single one of us struggles with this in some form or another. No one is exempt.

Hole-y people

Found here

When I grew up I was taught to revere the leaders of my church. We often had pastors who were sent to our little set of city and country churches who either weren't wanted elsewhere, or who were just getting started. Let's put it this way: we were not the most desired congregations in the state. Even though my parents moaned and complained about some of the terribly put together sermons that we endured week after week, we still tried to be gracious to these men who served us. When I started speaking and I became the butt of criticism, I appreciated the values my parents tried to instill in us.

I knew that a number of the pastors I had contact with had problems with their kids. And some of the pastor's wives were somewhat problematic socially at times. But we were still careful about all of these things because these people lived in the public eye and this added another level of stress on an already burdened family--trying to be examples and still be normal people.

Imagine my shock then, when I began counseling Christian university students and started to hear about what happened in the homes of some of these clergy. One day, I learned that one of my childhood Christian heroes had had an affair with the parent of a client. I was stunned but couldn't let my feelings register on my face while I tried to console this girl and help her come to terms with the awful news she had just learned about her mother. The whole time I was trying not to be distracted by my inner review of the writing of this man, wondering if I could have seen a clue of this in his book(s).

It is difficult to have someone fall from grace in our mind. Sadly, it happens rather often. We would love to think that someone, somewhere, has it all together. They have a scintillating personality, are warm, always know what to say in challenging circumstances, have a high level of devotion to God but have both feet firmly planted on the ground, and their personal integrity is above reproach. I know very few people like this. There seems to always be a glitch, even though we can see them doing their best.

The man who was my spiritual father--whose speaking really touched my heart while I was an impressionable college student--he had affairs over the course of his ministry. He was never caught but talked about a lot. And what about a Christian leader whose professional innovations were Christ-centered? He had one affair after another, too. Then there are those good-hearted friends and family members who are well meaning, warm hearted--just the kinds of people you love to be around--and something happens and our trust in them is shaken.
This is much worse when it comes to those representatives of God whose great faith and knowledge of the scriptures we have admired and tried to emulate.

I suppose these things happen because as long as we live in this world there really is no one person whom we can hold up as the standard for perfect behavior. We cannot be those perfect conduits from God to the world that we think we need to be--the earthen vessels that hold within us the glory of God. We are like a drinking pitcher that is full of holes. It is amazing that we are able to hold anything good within us, given the varied issues with which every one of us struggle.

There was a time when I was fit to be tied about this: all these so-called godly people with glaring personal problems. But over the years I have learned that people's mistakes and weaknesses do not invalidate the truth of God's word, or the magnificence of His plans for us. I wish I knew this about 10 years ago, when I left this town for graduate school, just irate about the shortsightedness and lack of social awareness of some of my administrators. I didn't go to church for six months because I was resentful and didn't want to be associated with people who acted the way these two individuals had behaved. They had hurt me deeply. And both were classified as a Christian "Somebody". Couldn't prove it by me.

This flashed before my eyes yesterday when a student tearfully told me how shaken he was after reading a book about missionary children who were molested by their teachers. He wondered aloud about mission work, the gospel, and those who profess to be Christians. He had been so distraught after reading this book that he couldn't work on his dissertation for four days.
I found myself telling him that offense is bound to occur at the hands of those whom we trust. But it does not change the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It makes those who profess Jesus Christ to stink sometimes, but it does not, cannot diminish the perfection or truth of the Gospel.

We are hole-y people. What a marvel it will be to finally be in heaven when we can look back on the ways that we constantly fell short, but still we find ourselves in heaven. Should we aim to be perfect and emulators of Christ? Yes. Just as Abraham, who 'was as good as dead' was able to create an entire nation, we, who are recipients of the New Covenant, and who are spiritually as good as dead, are able to participate in the perfect plan of God. We extend grace to those who are just like us: trying to hold on to the glory of God as it leaks out of our earthen vessels.

Both will fall into the ditch

Can the blind lead the blind? shall they not both fall into the ditch? (Luke 6:39).

I once heard a man tell the story of the time he visited another congregation and found the people there to be extremely cold. "No one would speak to me!" he said indignantly. And off he went on a rant about Christians of other congregations, other denominations who are unpleasant and exclusive to outsiders. He ended with, "Does it really cost anything just to be pleasant to other people? We're all Christians, after all!" he lamented.

Today, the same man just about went through the roof when a minister from another church gave the sermon at his church. "I resent that man being in the pulpit today!" He sputtered. "If I wanted to hear an Anglican minister, I'd go to an Episcopalian church like the one where I was raised." And he stalked off in a huff.

Funny, being an outsider wasn't okay when it was someone else, but it was a good thing when he was the outsider.

A woman I know rather well frequently complains in shocked tones about how parents treat their children--things she sees on Dr. Phil and Oprah that about curl her toenails. And yet these very things are the kinds of things she did to her own children. How soon we forget!

The interesting thing to me is that we are all blind, every one of us. All of us have blind spots because of how we are and what our life experience has been. I know a woman who is bitterly opposed to her brother being married to a woman who is rude. Yet her husband is so rude that he is hard to be around for any length of time. I preach tolerance toward people who are not like me, yet I am bitterly intolerant of the intolerant people. As Luke said, both those who are blind and those with blind spots are liable to fall.

This is really discouraging to me. Some of us try so very hard to do what is right, to be open-minded, to earnestly do what we can to help others. Yet we are so tainted by our blindness and our inability to live above those things that we see in others that so vex our spirits.
We are so human.
I know.
I live in the ditch.
I have great company there.

Gendered Language

Found here

I am currently teaching a class this quarter entitled, "Medicine and Family Therapy." It is a primer on medical procedures and nomenclature for non-medical mental health providers. We talk about collaborative care practices, but the most fun in the class is talking about the actual medical procedures: colonoscopies, bronchoscopies, MRIs, PET scans, biopsies, and the like. Each week we hear two students make presentations about an assigned diagnostic test. They are to explain why a person would need the test, what preparation is required for the individual undergoing the test, what the test actually consists of (complete with online videos--you can find anything on there!) and diagrams, common findings, after care, and treatment based on findings.

Last Wednesday we heard 60-something Tom* give a presentation on Pap smears. It was a most engaging experience. Tom wondered aloud why, in a class of four men and three women, he should be selected for this presentation. Then he cleared his throat, started his Powerpoint slides, and began to describe the procedure in a halting and sometimes fading voice:

"Well, this is a procedure only performed on women. Uh...yeah, because they're the only ones who have a vagina. Um...but we all know that." He scanned the room to be sure everyone was following his comments. "Now, a woman has to be undressed for this because there just isn't a way to examine a woman with her clothes on." There were chuckles across the room and Tom turned a shade of pink.
"Now, uh...this thing here, (he pointed at a diagram of a speculum), this gadget is spring loaded and once it is inserted into the vagina, it pops open so the doctor can get a sample." The men raised their eyebrows in approval. The speculum sounded as if it had an element of danger, which they respected. The women's eyebrows shot up also, but in an expression of bewilderment as they probably wondered if they had ever felt the spring loaded device during their last pelvic exam.
"The doctor will take a wooden stick and scrape the cells off the wall of the vagina and put them on a glass slide. Sometimes she'll use a brush to get the cells." Students winced visibly as he continued. "I'm not sure how they get a brush or a stick up there, but that's what all the literature says, straight up." Everyone's forehead was now furrowed in confusion.
"Uh...this procedure takes between 10 - 30 minutes and there is no preparatory medication given for this. Uh...women don't need to take time off work after this and they can return to their regularly scheduled activities."
He bravely continued, "Now, uh...if the doctor sees some wonky cells, she'll get a black light and look up there so she can see them better. It's the same kind of thing that you use to grow African Violets."
"What?!" one woman whispered. We women looked at one another to check for the light of recognition in anyone else's eyes. What was this guy talking about? A black light? Wonky cells?
"Now, if you think about this, it's a really straightforward test. The doctor can be in and out in a short time." One man guffawed. Tom's rejoinder was an attempt to correct this poorly chosen figure of speech: "I mean, it's just an open and close situation." One of the women giggled, "It certainly is!"
"Well, I'm digging a hole for myself here, so let's look at a video of this procedure."
We then viewed a 3 minute teaching video on pelvic exams made for nursing students. We saw the "stick" and the "brush" and even some "Wonky cells" on the glass slide. As the video stopped, Tom turned toward us triumphant in his videotaped vindication. "Now that takes someone who knows what they're doin'!"
He looked around at us all. "Any questions?"
Dead silence.
"Again, I hope I got this right. If any of you women want to comment on your experience having this done, we men will be all ears." The women visibly drew back, incredulous. Trying to help his cause he plunged on, "I'm sure some of you who are older have had hundreds of these. You're supposed to have one every year if you're sexually active, so I know that some of you have..." he stopped, realizing that he was on thin ice again. "Um... maybe I'll just sit down now."
The class burst into gales of laughter, as poor Tom muttered under his breath, "Makes having to bend over and cough for the doctor a lot more tolerable after seeing this!"

What really tickled my funnybone, aside from his obvious nervousness and awkwardness, was how odd it sounded for a man--a non-medical man--to describe something that a woman would explain in such different terms.

I remember taking one of my Stepdaughters to the doctor for a routine visit involving another part of her body. I explained what a pelvic exam was like, and told her that sometimes the doctor wants to do the exam just to get a baseline. Trying to be the good mother, I asked if she wanted me to be with her in the exam room when she saw the doctor. No, she'd rather have privacy.
So it was funny to me to suddenly receive a call on my cell phone from her just a little while later. "Barbara, she's going to do that exam!" She sounded frantic. "Pray for me!" and she hung up the phone.
That afternoon I took her out for lunch and bought her a box of chocolates to celebrate this rite of passage. She had entered a new phase of life.
This is something that men typically can't understand, what with their rather mechanistic view of procedures and the way they are languaged. Hearing Tom's rather funny discussion about Pap smears made me realize that there are probably a good number of events that happen in the lives of men that I can't come close to understanding or languaging in a way that corroborates their experience. How different we are.
And that's the straight up.

Bobble Eyes

One of my now departed friends, Uncle Lem, used to sing a song called, "My girl has some big bobble eyes" in his Hawaiian accent. It was quite humorous, and I used to wonder what was so enticing about a girl with bulging "bobble" eyes.
Well, this morning I awoke with one. Yes--only one.
Here is what happened last night. After my Lasik eye surgery I developed a bad case of dry eye related problems. After two office procedures and one additional surgery, my left eye was rendered an official dry eye. I have to put gel drops in my eyes twice during the night so they don't dry out and diminish my vision. the downside of this, in addition to waking up to put in the second set of drops, is that the gel makes my eyes stick shut. I have to get up and splash water in my eyes to dissolve the gel goo in order to put the next drops in.
Last night I awoke from a dead sleep with the desire to head to the bathroom. Jumping up in the pitch blackness, my eyes were glued shut as I made haste toward the door going into the dressing area. For some reason, I missed the edge of Sam's dresser as a landmark, and I walked straight into the door frame. With my left eyebrow--BANG! I was so tired that I barely realized what had happened, did my business and went straight back to bed.

This morning I woke up with "an egg" over my left eyebrow. Fortunately you can't see it unless you get a profile view. I'm just so grateful that it's not black and blue.

So now I too, have bobble eyes. At least, one of them is.
;)

Looking for Love

Today is the day, some 30 years ago that Trisha, one of my dear friends got married. None of us knew that the marriage would end quite sadly, but it did. One divorce, and several years of healing later, she is finally interested in meeting someone. At this point, it would be great just to have someone to see a movie with or to have dinner with. She'd love to have someone come by and help her work in the yard--a good companion type of person. So this week Trisha joined an online matchmaker service. "If you can do it, Barbara, then so can I."
But Trisha panicked after she launched her profile with her picture. "There are so many wierdos out there. What if one of them is a pedophile or serial killer?" Of course, she is thinking of the most horrible outcomes possible.

I got several anxious phone calls from Trisha the day after she uploaded her material to the matchmaking site. "Would you please go into my profile and look at it to be sure I haven't said anything really stupid? Then, look and see who might be a good match for me. I can't tell."

It is always fun to look through these kinds of ads--if you're married. If not, it is most uncomfortable! I remember only too well, looking at the profiles of guys with another therapist friend who tends to be a bit suspicious, and who said of one guy, "Why would they even let someone like this on the website?" and "This guy looks like an ex-con." There were never any encouraging words from her. So thinking about this, I decided to try to be as upbeat as possible for Trisha. It might be harder than I thought, possibly due to the area where Trisha lives, and maybe because there are a lot of desperate dorks out there. Here are some of the remarks to introduce themselves or state their preferences that men wrote on their profiles:

Please - no heavy smokers, drinkers or heroin addicts, nut cases, recent parolees, broken hearts on the mend (this rides above all others - too much drama likely), women with a voice deeper then Johnny Cash's, cyber pretenders who fudge facts in their profiles, women with ugly tempers, bad table manners, intoxicated by divisive politics or crazed with emotionally based addictions!

Mike writes, I am a gentlemen cowboy. I dont play games and dont want any played on me. I am sincere and honest. I know how to treat a lady. I am trying this again to see if it it will work. Ask me anything and I will tell you. I have nothing to hide or prove. i am the real deal.
Easy for him to claim this, but how can we know this for sure by seeing him sitting on the couch of an obvious bachelor pad, wearing a bright orange shirt, and sticking his tongue out at the camera?

Here's another one: Handsome, secure doctor seeks a happy, intelligent beauty. I am looking for a woman who wakes up smiling. Good luck.

One guy whose moniker is, SailinOut confesses in his profile, My experience on the open seas has been limited to driving over the 14th Street bridge. So much for truth in advertising!

Another man whose online name is LakeHoundDog announces, Lone wolf would like to join pack! He then adds, Someone who can sing.. Out of key its ok. someone who can laugh .. even on a rainy day someone who will make love in the hay.. or keep the wolves at bay. This is a discription of you, this is a discription of me. A poet, he ain't, but I suppose that someone would find these comments appealing.

Then there is "Mr. Breeze looking for the wind." This motorcycle enthusiast is shown sitting on his ginormous bike with a Dick-Deadeye expression. He writes, I have no need for drama or a deep understanding of anyone's past, especially my own. If I could see past the numerous red flags that obscure the rest of his comments, I'd tell Trisha to cut a wide swath around this one.

So This has all been quite an interesting romp through singlehood once again. I remarked to Sam last night that I am more pleased than I can ever say that I am no longer single. Seeing that Sam said nothing back to me, I asked, "Aren't you?"
"What do you think..." he smiled at me warmly. "Just like I tell everyone, you are the same as when I first met you. I adore you, Honey!"

I wish the same for Trisha, who for now must swim through the seas of uncertainty. There is land after the many the long swim. Bless her heart!