I Am From

In my pluralism course, we composed poems entitled "I Am From". The activity, described by Beverly Daniel Tatum in her book, Can We Talk About Race? helps the author grasp his/her own culture. Reading our poems in class invited students and teacher to share our cultural stories. Essentially, the author begins each stanza with "I am from" and follows up with people, food, places, and the like. What is your "I Am From" poem?

Here is mine:

I am from board games and TV

Afternoons of homework, snacks, and

Mary Tyler Moore.

I am from day trips to the beach and Big Bear for snow.

I am from small yards and concrete fences,

Pomegranate and orange and peach and lemon trees.

I am from cranberry nut bread and Sees candy.

Monkey bread on Christmas morning.

I am from margarine and generic brands

and cream of tuna on toast.

I am from Friday night football, seeing dad at city hall,

and mom in the school library. I am from divorce, single parenthood,

making ends meet, and new beginnings.

I am from Alice Stebbins Wells—

who blazed the trail for female police officers

I am from Lew and Marian, Vera and Ray,

JoAnne and Walter.

I am from generations of slow but steady progress.

Motherhood as Motivation

Oftentimes we moms ask what we are sacrificing to be moms. The reality is that sacrifices are abundant. We give up time. We give up all or part of work. We even, at times, give up our dignity when we unknowingly leave home with spit up on our sweater or a cheerio on our butt.

I have realized, however, that motherhood also motivates me. As my son grows up, I am reminded that life moves quickly. Watching him is more real, somehow, than seeing the quite obvious changes I see in the mirror. As a toddler, he needed me all the time....to be fed, dressed, and to avoid physical disaster. He turns 7 soon, and he needs me a whole lot less now. He can get his own food, at least snacks. He can get dressed, when we wants to. He can play in the neighborhood without my watchful eye, although I watch him like a hawk. He has play dates now where I end up with unanticipated "free time".

With each developmental milestone, I realize he not only needs me less but also needs me to be me. As he grows older...the dreaded teenage years...it will be my responsibility to have an identity outside of him so that he is not overburdened with entertaining his mom. I don't want him to feel guilty for having his own life. Motherhood, in some ironic twist, reminds me that I must get a life. Now, where shall I start?

AA and Christian Community

Frederick Buechner writes in Beyond Words that one can't help wondering if Alcoholics Anonymous embodies "what the church is meant to be and maybe once was before it got to be big business". Buechner asks us to imagine the church as 'Sinners Anonymous', a place where we acknowledge that "I can will what is right but I cannot do it" and "For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do", as Saint Paul put it. Essentially, Buechner wonders if there is something the church could learn from AA.

I was a guest at a Saturday night AA meeting recently, and was overwhelmed with the truth in Buechner's query. In a spirit of authentic community, we went around the circle sharing thoughts on the evening's theme, gratitude. Each individual introduced him or herself saying "Hi. I'm 'Sadie/Joe'. I'm an alcoholic". And the others responded warmly and immediately with "Hi Sadie/Joe". Each 'Sadie/Joe' then shared his/her thoughts on gratitude.

I was overwhelmed as individuals shared thanks for everything from finally being able to sleep to having hope for starting over. There was thanks for being able to speak truth about the real stuff of life. All in all, I noted a distinct theme as gratitude for each other. One person said "you are my family and I dig it". Another affirmed, "among you I feel home". I heard a deep thanks for the empathy associated with genuine community: One woman said, "I have people to call and to tell my problems; I never thought I could call others...I thought my problems were not big enough. Now I call". A man tearfully expressed thanks for being "totally understood". As the sharing went around the circle, there was absolute attentiveness to not only the words being expressed but also to the sentiment behind them.

One man suggested in the midst of his comments that "every now and then you get an epiphany". And as the circle came to me, I shared mine. " Hi. I'm Cynthia" ...to which I heard a warm reply "Hi Cynthia". I indicated that I was a guest and simply but genuinely affirmed that "I'm grateful to be here." And, I truly was. I am thankful to have witnessed people being loved deeply in the midst of all the crap of life. I am deeply thankful to have witnessed real acceptance, love, and grace; these are, in my estimation, the very qualities within a community that serve, ultimately, to transform individual lives.

I wonder alongside Buechner what it might mean for Christian community if it looked something like, "I am Cynthia. I am a sinner", and the community responded with a "Hi Cynthia" that resonated warmth and welcome. While I have experienced moments of grace in the community of faith, on the whole I often feel that my sinner status must be checked at the church's front door. It requires a leap to imagine the church on the whole as a place where I can say "I am really struggling to do the good that God desires but falling absolutely short" and getting a response that resonated acceptance before judgment, love before advice.

Ultimately, I am thankful to be reminded of the power of community to walk alongside us in our healing and to love us so deeply that we "do the good" that God desires not as a matter of our own will because the gospel reminds us that individual will is insufficient. Rather, we can do the good in the midst of a community that enables us trust more fully in the power of God to transform us only by meeting us exactly where we are.

War

A neighbor told Gabe her dad was working for the government in Texas; Gabe asked if he was going to be "in the war"?. I don't mean to jump to conclusions but connecting government and war so immediately concerns me, especially in the mind of a 7 year old. Still, in the current social and political context, what are images associated with government? War is definitely one; our government is engaged in physical wars in Iraq and Afghanistan and engaged in wars of words with many others.

We are in the midst of a presidential election and on the brink of controversy over the Democratic nominee. The electoral and popular votes are potentially at odds in casting the ultimate decision. We are debating whether Florida and Michigan should now count or whether there should be a re-do. It sounds vaguely familiar. It is no wonder that our young adults are so cynical about the political realm.

I have, and continue to discipline myself, with the audacity of hope....but it is a discipline. How can we teach our children and our young adults the power of government to do good in the world? Are there models of hope and good that I am missing? How can we galvanize the current interest in politics into a full-fledged revival of the role of government in and for the people?

Given the current realities, this is war. How oxymoric to be at war for hope.

Playdate Humility

Playdates are times when children experience the world of the other, and it is sometimes filled with envy. "Hey, I don't have that toy!" " You are so lucky!" " My mom NEVER lets me watch that!" Today, Gabe hosted his friend Alec. As they played with Playmobil toys, of which admittedly, Gabe has a plethora, Alec said he only has one Playmobil toy, and I was proud of Gabe when he didn’t respond. Well, later Alec picked up a piece of another toy and said, “What is this?”. When I noted that it was a Tinkertoy, Alec queried, “What’s a tinkertoy?”. Gabe, not skipping a beat said, “You don’t get out much, do you?”. Given my own propensities for sarcasm, I shouldn’t be surprised. I don’t imagine that Gabe would look at Alec’s Wii or DVD collection and wonder if he doesn’t get out enough, but perhaps he does. At any rate, what does it mean for a child to equate his toy collection with seeing the world? Playdates are times where you really begin to understand kids, particularly your own. There is something humbling about seeing my son in the midst of his relationships with peers.