Saturday, December 29
Friday, December 28
Pharisaical Pharmaceuticals
My passionate pharmacist uncle Jeff Langdon always says, “Better health through pharmaceuticals.” Next time you are at his pharmacy in the Walmart in St. Joe you can say hi to him.
Sometimes when I am reading the Word of God it feels like medication is being administered to an ailment. At times I am completely oblivious to the malady that would necessitate treatment, but the Great Physician knows and gently applies what is needed so that my spiritual health is no longer compromised.
Have you ever noticed how frequently, especially in the book of Matthew, Jesus addressed the Pharisees? The big deal with this group of people was that they relied on their own actions for the redemption of their souls and imposed on others heavy burdens of duties to achieve the self-righteousness that they enjoyed. The term “bible-thumpers” might be used in today’s vernacular to loathsomely describe them. They majored on the minors of requirements and forgot about what really counts. I believe that Jesus had hope for these people and that is why he took the time and breath to address them so strongly and so regularly.
Last night at church DaRonn ministered on the importance of self-examination. He talked about the importance of looking inward to assess your spiritual state. Both he and I have made it a practice for quite some time to do just that. Quite frankly we often say to each other, “I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know it all.” We have decided that in all our striving we have not yet “arrived”, and the truth is we really never will.
I did not always think that way. I used to portray many of the same characteristics of the Pharisees. I was a Pharisee. Case in point: when I was 10 we attended your typical non-denominational store front church. During praise and worship the leader would instruct the congregation to raise their hands and worship God. I was so very stubborn that I absolutely would not put my hands down until the minister instructed us to. I would look around (unless we were instructed to close our eyes) and see that I was following the rules and become disgusted at all those that were not following the rules. Not until he would say, “You may put your hands down,” did I even think about lowering my arms. And I thought that this was a part of holiness!
God, in all his grace, began to treat this area of Pharisaical tendencies in my life. His treatment has been a gradual dosage of his holy word changing me little by little. I am so grateful to him for it! There are so many, many verses that he has brought to me. This is one of my favorite portions taken from a chapter full of warnings for the Pharisees:
Matthew 23:23-24 (New Living, which by the way I refused to use in my high school years for reasons of sacrilege; God have mercy, sinner that I am!) 23 “What sorrow awaits you teachers of religious law and you Pharisees. Hypocrites! For you are careful to tithe even the tiniest income from your herb gardens, but you ignore the more important aspects of the law—justice, mercy, and faith. You should tithe, yes, but do not neglect the more important things. 24 Blind guides! You strain your water so you won’t accidentally swallow a gnat, but you swallow a camel!”
Jesus calls this behavior ignorant, blind and hypocritical. Such a strong and vivid admonition is given by the Good Teacher. So, today as I reflect and remember where I have come from I will refocus on where I am going. Today I choose to not swallow any camels. Thank God for his Pharisaical Pharmaceuticals.
Sometimes when I am reading the Word of God it feels like medication is being administered to an ailment. At times I am completely oblivious to the malady that would necessitate treatment, but the Great Physician knows and gently applies what is needed so that my spiritual health is no longer compromised.
Have you ever noticed how frequently, especially in the book of Matthew, Jesus addressed the Pharisees? The big deal with this group of people was that they relied on their own actions for the redemption of their souls and imposed on others heavy burdens of duties to achieve the self-righteousness that they enjoyed. The term “bible-thumpers” might be used in today’s vernacular to loathsomely describe them. They majored on the minors of requirements and forgot about what really counts. I believe that Jesus had hope for these people and that is why he took the time and breath to address them so strongly and so regularly.
Last night at church DaRonn ministered on the importance of self-examination. He talked about the importance of looking inward to assess your spiritual state. Both he and I have made it a practice for quite some time to do just that. Quite frankly we often say to each other, “I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know it all.” We have decided that in all our striving we have not yet “arrived”, and the truth is we really never will.
I did not always think that way. I used to portray many of the same characteristics of the Pharisees. I was a Pharisee. Case in point: when I was 10 we attended your typical non-denominational store front church. During praise and worship the leader would instruct the congregation to raise their hands and worship God. I was so very stubborn that I absolutely would not put my hands down until the minister instructed us to. I would look around (unless we were instructed to close our eyes) and see that I was following the rules and become disgusted at all those that were not following the rules. Not until he would say, “You may put your hands down,” did I even think about lowering my arms. And I thought that this was a part of holiness!
God, in all his grace, began to treat this area of Pharisaical tendencies in my life. His treatment has been a gradual dosage of his holy word changing me little by little. I am so grateful to him for it! There are so many, many verses that he has brought to me. This is one of my favorite portions taken from a chapter full of warnings for the Pharisees:
Matthew 23:23-24 (New Living, which by the way I refused to use in my high school years for reasons of sacrilege; God have mercy, sinner that I am!) 23 “What sorrow awaits you teachers of religious law and you Pharisees. Hypocrites! For you are careful to tithe even the tiniest income from your herb gardens, but you ignore the more important aspects of the law—justice, mercy, and faith. You should tithe, yes, but do not neglect the more important things. 24 Blind guides! You strain your water so you won’t accidentally swallow a gnat, but you swallow a camel!”
Jesus calls this behavior ignorant, blind and hypocritical. Such a strong and vivid admonition is given by the Good Teacher. So, today as I reflect and remember where I have come from I will refocus on where I am going. Today I choose to not swallow any camels. Thank God for his Pharisaical Pharmaceuticals.
Wednesday, December 26
Christmas Fun
Here are some fun moments from yesterday:
Tyler playing with his awesome new toy.
Gabrielle with "Patrik". We got the kids a pair of guinea pigs, boy and girl. The girl is named "Rosebud".
Timothy trying out his new golf set. Later they all went to the park with the set. The day was bright, warm and sunny.
Tyler showing off his new trick of sticking out his tongue and wagging his head.
Gabrielle making a run to the kitchen for some sweet goodies.
All in all it was a very nice day. I finished reading "East of Eden", a great book. DaRonn got a good nap in. I hope your day was nice as well.
Tyler playing with his awesome new toy.
Gabrielle with "Patrik". We got the kids a pair of guinea pigs, boy and girl. The girl is named "Rosebud".
Timothy trying out his new golf set. Later they all went to the park with the set. The day was bright, warm and sunny.
Tyler showing off his new trick of sticking out his tongue and wagging his head.
Gabrielle making a run to the kitchen for some sweet goodies.
All in all it was a very nice day. I finished reading "East of Eden", a great book. DaRonn got a good nap in. I hope your day was nice as well.
Monday, December 24
Washington Family Christmas Picture
Merry Christmas!!!
I will post more pictures later. This is my dear family. Raimy 9, Timothy 8, Gabrielle 6 and Tyler 1.
Saturday, December 22
2007 Christ Nation Church Toy Give-Away
A father came through the door. His son was on his weary shoulders. I am sure that his son was not the only burden he carried this overcast morning. The shirt on his back was so worn down in places that his sunburned brown skin showed through. His dark head bent down as he was walking past me.
“Feliz Navidad,” I said as I placed my hand on his shoulder. As he raised his head I made sure to make eye contact with him and his child. An identical broad smile broke out on the faces of both. The boy was clutching the present he had received.
This morning we woke to the rich sound of rain on the window panes. Though the rain lulled me and said I could say in bed a few more minutes the excitement pulsing through me prevailed. I whispered an honest yet slightly desperate prayer, “God, the rain is fine for now; but when we start let there be sun.” The cloud cover and drips gradually dissipated as we went about with the final preparations.
Volunteers began showing up asking how they could help. Some, deemed bus captains, climbed on empty busses and were scattered through the city to fill them. Others took posts in the main sanctuary wrapping up the toys. Others then separated them into huge piles; one for the girls one for the boys.
The neighborhood buzzed with anticipation as the street in front of our church building began to fill with children. They had come because of a flyer, a radio announcement or a personal invitation. The busses began to arrive from the orphanages, prisons and needy neighbor hoods brimming over with children of all ages.
And the sun came out! The program started with fun songs about Jesus. The animated voice of our church’s children leader pumped out over the speakers telling the children about Jesus. Another song was about to start so she invited a few children up on the make shift stage, the flat back of a large truck, to dance with her and do the simple motions.
Then came the thing everyone had been waiting for: the toy give-away. In all 2,207 toys were given to the children of Cochabamba, Bolivia today. Our church, Christ Nation Church, of about 200 members collected some 2,700 toys to give away. We have worked together for the last 7 weeks to be sure we had enough toys. And this was without corporate sponsors; just the members giving of themselves to bless this city. The left over toys will be used for other events and to stock our prize bin in children’s church.
Two years ago we launched this great annual event and gathered together 400 kids and gave them each a toy for Christmas. Last year we raised the bar and challenged the congregation to gather together 1,000. They did it! This year we told them that we were going to bless 2,500 kids with toys. The goal was met and exceeded.
We have coupled this toy give-away with a faith project for the church. These toys were sown as a seed towards having 300 people attending church on a weekly basis in 2008. (Personally, I think that we will exceed this goal too as we work together.) This number will put us in a strategic position for beginning the process of buying property and building. Pastor DaRonn, my husband, is so good about challenging us to grow and reach out to people with the love of Jesus. He says, “If the church is doing what it should be doing the world will take notice.” I wonder what he will tell us is our goal for toy collection in 2008. Whatever it is I know that with God we will reach it.
Here are some pictures from this morning:
“Feliz Navidad,” I said as I placed my hand on his shoulder. As he raised his head I made sure to make eye contact with him and his child. An identical broad smile broke out on the faces of both. The boy was clutching the present he had received.
This morning we woke to the rich sound of rain on the window panes. Though the rain lulled me and said I could say in bed a few more minutes the excitement pulsing through me prevailed. I whispered an honest yet slightly desperate prayer, “God, the rain is fine for now; but when we start let there be sun.” The cloud cover and drips gradually dissipated as we went about with the final preparations.
Volunteers began showing up asking how they could help. Some, deemed bus captains, climbed on empty busses and were scattered through the city to fill them. Others took posts in the main sanctuary wrapping up the toys. Others then separated them into huge piles; one for the girls one for the boys.
The neighborhood buzzed with anticipation as the street in front of our church building began to fill with children. They had come because of a flyer, a radio announcement or a personal invitation. The busses began to arrive from the orphanages, prisons and needy neighbor hoods brimming over with children of all ages.
And the sun came out! The program started with fun songs about Jesus. The animated voice of our church’s children leader pumped out over the speakers telling the children about Jesus. Another song was about to start so she invited a few children up on the make shift stage, the flat back of a large truck, to dance with her and do the simple motions.
Then came the thing everyone had been waiting for: the toy give-away. In all 2,207 toys were given to the children of Cochabamba, Bolivia today. Our church, Christ Nation Church, of about 200 members collected some 2,700 toys to give away. We have worked together for the last 7 weeks to be sure we had enough toys. And this was without corporate sponsors; just the members giving of themselves to bless this city. The left over toys will be used for other events and to stock our prize bin in children’s church.
Two years ago we launched this great annual event and gathered together 400 kids and gave them each a toy for Christmas. Last year we raised the bar and challenged the congregation to gather together 1,000. They did it! This year we told them that we were going to bless 2,500 kids with toys. The goal was met and exceeded.
We have coupled this toy give-away with a faith project for the church. These toys were sown as a seed towards having 300 people attending church on a weekly basis in 2008. (Personally, I think that we will exceed this goal too as we work together.) This number will put us in a strategic position for beginning the process of buying property and building. Pastor DaRonn, my husband, is so good about challenging us to grow and reach out to people with the love of Jesus. He says, “If the church is doing what it should be doing the world will take notice.” I wonder what he will tell us is our goal for toy collection in 2008. Whatever it is I know that with God we will reach it.
Here are some pictures from this morning:
Some of the toys collected for the boys.
Some of the toys collected for the girls.
This member of our church is 91 years old. She is helping prepare the toys.
Our children's leader on a truck on the street in front of our church, Christ Nation Church.
Some of the 2,207 children that received a toy for Christmas.
DaRonn and I handing out toys along with the other 20 some volunteers.
Merry Christmas!!!
Wednesday, December 19
Eggshells
“Walking on eggshells” indicates that within a certain relationship we are being extra cautious so as to not offend, upset or anger the other. It is assumed that there is tension; one is frustrated or even annoyed with having to be so guarded around the other.
In Spanish we have a similar idiom that has almost the same wording but a very different meaning. The phrase is “walk stepping on eggs”. One who is stepping on eggs is a person who looks down on another. This person has a critical eye when evaluating another.
Two extremes: in English the person is cautious and careful; in Spanish the person is haughty and proud. The similar tie is such a big nasty word (or so it might seem in our Christian circles now days) that we think it is nigh unto, if not the very definition of sin: judgment. Tolerance and judgment have been set on opposites sides of the room and we are to choose which camp we are in.
If you are on the side of tolerance you are on the “good” side. You keep your mouth shut and let people live their lives the way that they see is right. You plaster on an approving grin even when you know in your gut something is not right. You mutter soothing words of understanding when the person before you defends and justifies his actions with completely reasonable arguments; while all the while you are plagued with indignity on the inside. All this done in the (holy?) name of tolerance.
If you choose to root in the corner of the traitorous judgment then you are booed at by liberals and reformed conservatives alike. Seeing these criticisms as nothing more than persecution for the faith you rise up louder still with your public accusations of the evildoers everywhere. You crank your bullhorn to the loudest setting and march down the street with your picket sign denouncing all that is bad in the world. You hear about a fallen member in the Christian world and immediately grab the phone to inform your prayer chain of all the juicy, I mean important details so that she can “pray better”.
My familiarity with both side of the coin is due to the fact that I have behaved both ways. Beginning my walk with Christ as a Miss Goody-Two-Shoes I muddied my Sunday best in the ditch of undue judgmentalism and an ugly critical spirit. I was so blinded by the mud I was slinging that I prayed to God that he give me the desirous gift of sarcasm with which I would be better able to maim my victims.
I met my match in some humbling encounters that pulled me out of verbal attacks. But still stumbling along and feeling my way I fell into the slimy bog of tolerance on the other side of the road. In those murky waters it was easy to convince myself that I was mistaken by what I saw so it was better to be neutral. I began questioning moral truths that I knew in Sunday school but just didn’t seem to hold enough substance against the darkness of the real world. After all as a missionary I am not called to change the culture? Or am I?
Almost two years ago my husband and I became pastors. In these last six months I have finally begun to feel like a pastor; the main reason for this being that I have had to confront within myself this conflict between judgmentalism and tolerance.
This week I sat with a teary-eyed member of my church and as I listened I knew that the issue had been settled within me. This process of sifting and learning, grappling and thinking was put to the final test. I am sure that I will be moving on to a new issue very soon. But for now I am thankful that God brought clarity.
I know that you might be thinking, “So what is it? What is the answer?” It would be very hard for me to lay out months and even years of learning. At the end of this post I am including a link to an online 4 sermon teaching series that was a key in helping me. But the bottom line is that I am grateful that this lesson has been learned. Someday I might teach or preach about it. Just now I am contented to live it.
Look for the series: Judgment Call
In Spanish we have a similar idiom that has almost the same wording but a very different meaning. The phrase is “walk stepping on eggs”. One who is stepping on eggs is a person who looks down on another. This person has a critical eye when evaluating another.
Two extremes: in English the person is cautious and careful; in Spanish the person is haughty and proud. The similar tie is such a big nasty word (or so it might seem in our Christian circles now days) that we think it is nigh unto, if not the very definition of sin: judgment. Tolerance and judgment have been set on opposites sides of the room and we are to choose which camp we are in.
If you are on the side of tolerance you are on the “good” side. You keep your mouth shut and let people live their lives the way that they see is right. You plaster on an approving grin even when you know in your gut something is not right. You mutter soothing words of understanding when the person before you defends and justifies his actions with completely reasonable arguments; while all the while you are plagued with indignity on the inside. All this done in the (holy?) name of tolerance.
If you choose to root in the corner of the traitorous judgment then you are booed at by liberals and reformed conservatives alike. Seeing these criticisms as nothing more than persecution for the faith you rise up louder still with your public accusations of the evildoers everywhere. You crank your bullhorn to the loudest setting and march down the street with your picket sign denouncing all that is bad in the world. You hear about a fallen member in the Christian world and immediately grab the phone to inform your prayer chain of all the juicy, I mean important details so that she can “pray better”.
My familiarity with both side of the coin is due to the fact that I have behaved both ways. Beginning my walk with Christ as a Miss Goody-Two-Shoes I muddied my Sunday best in the ditch of undue judgmentalism and an ugly critical spirit. I was so blinded by the mud I was slinging that I prayed to God that he give me the desirous gift of sarcasm with which I would be better able to maim my victims.
I met my match in some humbling encounters that pulled me out of verbal attacks. But still stumbling along and feeling my way I fell into the slimy bog of tolerance on the other side of the road. In those murky waters it was easy to convince myself that I was mistaken by what I saw so it was better to be neutral. I began questioning moral truths that I knew in Sunday school but just didn’t seem to hold enough substance against the darkness of the real world. After all as a missionary I am not called to change the culture? Or am I?
Almost two years ago my husband and I became pastors. In these last six months I have finally begun to feel like a pastor; the main reason for this being that I have had to confront within myself this conflict between judgmentalism and tolerance.
This week I sat with a teary-eyed member of my church and as I listened I knew that the issue had been settled within me. This process of sifting and learning, grappling and thinking was put to the final test. I am sure that I will be moving on to a new issue very soon. But for now I am thankful that God brought clarity.
I know that you might be thinking, “So what is it? What is the answer?” It would be very hard for me to lay out months and even years of learning. At the end of this post I am including a link to an online 4 sermon teaching series that was a key in helping me. But the bottom line is that I am grateful that this lesson has been learned. Someday I might teach or preach about it. Just now I am contented to live it.
Look for the series: Judgment Call
Monday, December 17
The True Tango
My youngest son loves to dance. It puts a smile on your face to see him move to the rhythm of the music seeing as he is only 15 months old. Last night he found my CD of tango music so we listened to it. He was dancing all over the room while my fingers danced on the keyboard typing an entry for Existencia Compartida. It is my Spanish blog. It was quite inspirational typing in Spanish to Latin music. The post seemed like something that my English readers might enjoy as well.
As we listened it reminded me of our tenth wedding anniversary last year. We made an unforgettable trip to the infamous birthplace of the tango: Buenos Aires, Argentina. Tiny Tyler was with us due to the fact that he was still nursing. Perhaps he loves to dance because of this early exposure to music in that foreign country. Who knows? Could be.
On the streets of Buenos Aires there are tango demonstrations. The street shows require a team of three. There is the beautiful woman with her face all done up. Then there is the man who exists simply to accentuate the beautiful movements of the woman. There is also a sound man who walks around in the crowd hat in hand to collect the coins of the onlookers who have formed a sort of stage by encircling the dancers. These dance troupes must do well because they are on every corner of the wide pedestrian walkways.
Whenever we stopped to watch a couple dance, without fail one or two citizens would whisper in our ears with a sour face and a venomous tone something like, “This is not true tango!”
How could they tell this was not the tango? I was fascinated seeing them move to the rhythm of the music. One thing is certain, I cannot move like they do. But tonight as I watched my son I realized how they could feel so strongly. It is because they have experienced the true tango. They have seen it; maybe even danced it. They can make an authoritative comparison.
It made me think about the people who watch us Christians. What are they experiencing? Are they seeing some people go through the motions to collect a few coins and some weak applause? (Which are nothing more than superficial samples of love.) Or are they seeing authentic and true Christians? Can it be that Somebody is whispering in their ears, “They are not true Christians”?
The word of God gives us ways to prove the authenticity of a Christian. One of these is found in John 13:35 “By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” I believe that if we would truly demonstrate the love of God to others then people would be able to distinguish authentic Christians. They are going to be fascinated when they see us moving together to the rhythms of the grace of God. And they are going to admire what a life can be with God.
Now, there are people doing all the right things with the wrong motives. It says in Colossians 3:23-24 “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.” Some think, “I am going to do the minimum that God requires of me just so that I can secure my place in Heaven, but do not ask anything more of me.” With a mentality like that you are simply putting on a superficial street show to earn a couple coins. But, in the same way that I believe the street dancers (if they wanted to) could dance the “true tango” so that the citizens of their city would respect them I believe that you and I can allow the love of God to flow through us in such a way that as we love others we are demonstrating true Christianity and we become an authentic expression of love to this generation.
Shall we dance?
As we listened it reminded me of our tenth wedding anniversary last year. We made an unforgettable trip to the infamous birthplace of the tango: Buenos Aires, Argentina. Tiny Tyler was with us due to the fact that he was still nursing. Perhaps he loves to dance because of this early exposure to music in that foreign country. Who knows? Could be.
On the streets of Buenos Aires there are tango demonstrations. The street shows require a team of three. There is the beautiful woman with her face all done up. Then there is the man who exists simply to accentuate the beautiful movements of the woman. There is also a sound man who walks around in the crowd hat in hand to collect the coins of the onlookers who have formed a sort of stage by encircling the dancers. These dance troupes must do well because they are on every corner of the wide pedestrian walkways.
Whenever we stopped to watch a couple dance, without fail one or two citizens would whisper in our ears with a sour face and a venomous tone something like, “This is not true tango!”
How could they tell this was not the tango? I was fascinated seeing them move to the rhythm of the music. One thing is certain, I cannot move like they do. But tonight as I watched my son I realized how they could feel so strongly. It is because they have experienced the true tango. They have seen it; maybe even danced it. They can make an authoritative comparison.
It made me think about the people who watch us Christians. What are they experiencing? Are they seeing some people go through the motions to collect a few coins and some weak applause? (Which are nothing more than superficial samples of love.) Or are they seeing authentic and true Christians? Can it be that Somebody is whispering in their ears, “They are not true Christians”?
The word of God gives us ways to prove the authenticity of a Christian. One of these is found in John 13:35 “By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” I believe that if we would truly demonstrate the love of God to others then people would be able to distinguish authentic Christians. They are going to be fascinated when they see us moving together to the rhythms of the grace of God. And they are going to admire what a life can be with God.
Now, there are people doing all the right things with the wrong motives. It says in Colossians 3:23-24 “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.” Some think, “I am going to do the minimum that God requires of me just so that I can secure my place in Heaven, but do not ask anything more of me.” With a mentality like that you are simply putting on a superficial street show to earn a couple coins. But, in the same way that I believe the street dancers (if they wanted to) could dance the “true tango” so that the citizens of their city would respect them I believe that you and I can allow the love of God to flow through us in such a way that as we love others we are demonstrating true Christianity and we become an authentic expression of love to this generation.
Shall we dance?
Friday, December 14
A Bloggity Blog
Today marks the one year anniversary of my very first blog post.
Ta dah!
You may all give me a solemn golf clap.
Why, thankye kindly y’all!
The fun loving wife of Noah was the inspiration for my first post. Click here to re-live the joy of that very first post.
I have these blogs:
@ngie (on Xanga and Blogger)
Missionaries Who Blog (a handy link page)
We Are Family (with my husband, kids, parents, siblings, brother-in-law, and nieces)
Existencia Compartida (Spanish for: Shared Existence)
Fun facts...
I joined Xanga and waited 40 days before posting my first entry
I post 3 times a week, on an average
If people ask me what my hobby is I tell them it is blogging
There have been about 3,500 hits to all my blogs combined these 365 days
If someone gave me a (cool) T-shirt about blogging then I would wear it
Things I have gained from Blogging…
A better understanding about the internet
Better typing skills
A closer relationship with friends and family
New friends
Tons of confidence boosters by way of comments
5 random things about myself:
- I have earned 90 points for a lay in scrabble, but I don’t remember what the word was.
- I have climbed Ayers Rock (a.k.a. Uluru) in the middle of Australia.
- I have white water rafted on the Zambezi River.
- I have a Bohemian heritage
- I have a kaleidoscope collection
“Happy Bloggityday to you!
Happy Bloggityday to you!
Happy Bloggityday dear @ngie!
Happy Bloggityday to you!”
Thursday, December 13
Exposé of Grossness
(Warning: the content of this post may be considered unnecessarily gross to humans of the non mother persuasion.)
The pediatrician told me that the reason my son’s front is constantly drenched in slobber is that he has an over active salivatory gland that he will grow out of. I swear people, this boy is like a leaky faucet; you just can’t turn him off. The endearing nicknames that he has gained due to his zealot of a gland are: slobber-bot and drool-miester.
And while I am on it, sometimes I feel like my day consists of the meticulous gathering, inspection, categorizing and proper storage of every bodily fluid and excretion ever created. Am I comparing toddler care to the exact study of a scientist? Yes. How else do you think I can endure this demeaning yet all so important work they call care-giving?
How bad can it be? (You so naively ask.) Here comes the grossness! Shall we start south and work our way north? Or should we just do the good ol’ head to foot routine? Going with the latter… There is that orange dandruff like stuff growing under what few hairs they have on their heads that no matter how much you pick at it there is a new crop daily. Eye-boogers are your early morning greeting. Then there is the ear wax that you are not supposed to dig out even though it looks like the child has been attacked by tiny aliens and they are constructing a weird colony in there. We mustn’t forget the rainbow of snot that drains out of not one but two nostrils on an occasional basis. If you do not know the color, consistency and frequency of that slime then don’t even think about calling ask-a-nurse*! Before moving on to the mouth the nose does have one more function. In the unfortunate event that a child begins laughing while drinking milk (why is it always milk?) said milk will reroute itself through the nose expelling itself with such force as to successfully cover all persons present with the physical manifestation of the intangible joy that your child is experiencing. Moving on to the mouth: drool, spit-up, juicy blenching, smelly burps, regurgitated baby food, unswallowed mashed up food, rejected medications, phlegm, goobery tiny pieces of toys that are supposedly “a choking hazard” but are actually a cause of temporary deafness due to the screaming that is invoked from the baby when the extraction takes place and last but not least the infamous, odorous, staining and sickening vomit. Oh, and we haven’t got to the most exciting bits yet folks!
A few words about blood. Blood is meant to stay inside the body; yet almost everywhere on the body can bleed! Band-aids* are a joke. They stick for all of 3 minutes. After that, if the child has not taken it off then it comes off in some kind of water play or it is so full of dirt that you gasp and work as hard as you can to pry the thing off without ripping the tiny hairs out of their follicles. The only things band-aids* are good for are bribes. You bribe the kids to stop wailing by promising them a cute little band-aid*.
So you have your blood that you have to take care of. If you do it right then you won’t have to take care of the pus that accompanies infection. That’s right – do not avoid the blood because the pus is 10 times worse to take care of than the blood. If you see blood do not waste one more minute. Grab that wonder water that make the fun little bubbles when killing infection (technical term: hydrogen peroxide) and douse that wound! Disclaimer for parents: you do not have care for or treat broken bones. Take the kid to a doctor for that. Whoo, load off! Right?
Wrong! We have now reached the pinnacle of grossness. Below that adorable little belly button lies a load of worries. And by load, I mean load! The things that make their way out of your child’s abdomen and into that Mickey Mouse* diaper are unthinkable and unspeakable. Little bit of trivia for you. You will have what color poop when you eat Froot Loops*? If you said bright green then give yourself a gold sticker. Yes, as a parent you have diaper duty. And speaking of “duty”, why is it that we invent funny little names for bodily functions? Pee-pee, poo-poo, doodie, pees, stinkies, uh-oh, tinkle, and any other cutesy name that pops into our heads at the time. Oh, and speaking of heads. You know you have reached the brink of insanity when you see one of those tiny pieces of toy in the diaper all covered in yuck and after your initial panic attack thinking it is some part of the child’s guts that need to be taken to the surgeon so he can put it back where it goes you seriously think to yourself, “Do I dig it out and clean it off?” or an even more demented thought, “Do I call the big kids in and show this to them so they quit leaving their little pieces of toys laying around.” Recognize this as a sign that you are about to go insane and stop. Just fold the diaper up and throw it away. Pretend you didn’t see the object. It doesn’t exist. It was never there. You are still a good mom!
I said we were going head to foot. I thought it was some kind of practical joke when I smelled my infant son’s feet and they had the odor of a high-school gym locker room. My girls’ feet never smelled like anything else than baby powder. But my boys’ feet have stunk from day one. Not to mention the toe jam and sweaty, sticky sock fuzz that you gotta scrape off.
My precious gooey children haven’t yet reached the age of puberty. They tell me that the teenage years are so much worse. Frankly I don’t image how it could be worse. It will have to be my next chapter in the exposé on grossness.
People just don’t tell you all this stuff when you are oohing and ahhing over the soft cuddly bundle wrapped up in the stroller of a radiant starry-eyed young mother. It’s all a trick! They are wrapped up so you don’t see all the grossness. And those aren’t stars in her eyes, the poor woman hasn’t slept in days and her eyes are frozen open. But that is for another post.
* The name brands that I mentioned above are probably like protected by copyrights and have a bunch of trademarks. So like somebody buy some of their products and I think that they won’t mind that I mentioned them.
The pediatrician told me that the reason my son’s front is constantly drenched in slobber is that he has an over active salivatory gland that he will grow out of. I swear people, this boy is like a leaky faucet; you just can’t turn him off. The endearing nicknames that he has gained due to his zealot of a gland are: slobber-bot and drool-miester.
And while I am on it, sometimes I feel like my day consists of the meticulous gathering, inspection, categorizing and proper storage of every bodily fluid and excretion ever created. Am I comparing toddler care to the exact study of a scientist? Yes. How else do you think I can endure this demeaning yet all so important work they call care-giving?
How bad can it be? (You so naively ask.) Here comes the grossness! Shall we start south and work our way north? Or should we just do the good ol’ head to foot routine? Going with the latter… There is that orange dandruff like stuff growing under what few hairs they have on their heads that no matter how much you pick at it there is a new crop daily. Eye-boogers are your early morning greeting. Then there is the ear wax that you are not supposed to dig out even though it looks like the child has been attacked by tiny aliens and they are constructing a weird colony in there. We mustn’t forget the rainbow of snot that drains out of not one but two nostrils on an occasional basis. If you do not know the color, consistency and frequency of that slime then don’t even think about calling ask-a-nurse*! Before moving on to the mouth the nose does have one more function. In the unfortunate event that a child begins laughing while drinking milk (why is it always milk?) said milk will reroute itself through the nose expelling itself with such force as to successfully cover all persons present with the physical manifestation of the intangible joy that your child is experiencing. Moving on to the mouth: drool, spit-up, juicy blenching, smelly burps, regurgitated baby food, unswallowed mashed up food, rejected medications, phlegm, goobery tiny pieces of toys that are supposedly “a choking hazard” but are actually a cause of temporary deafness due to the screaming that is invoked from the baby when the extraction takes place and last but not least the infamous, odorous, staining and sickening vomit. Oh, and we haven’t got to the most exciting bits yet folks!
A few words about blood. Blood is meant to stay inside the body; yet almost everywhere on the body can bleed! Band-aids* are a joke. They stick for all of 3 minutes. After that, if the child has not taken it off then it comes off in some kind of water play or it is so full of dirt that you gasp and work as hard as you can to pry the thing off without ripping the tiny hairs out of their follicles. The only things band-aids* are good for are bribes. You bribe the kids to stop wailing by promising them a cute little band-aid*.
So you have your blood that you have to take care of. If you do it right then you won’t have to take care of the pus that accompanies infection. That’s right – do not avoid the blood because the pus is 10 times worse to take care of than the blood. If you see blood do not waste one more minute. Grab that wonder water that make the fun little bubbles when killing infection (technical term: hydrogen peroxide) and douse that wound! Disclaimer for parents: you do not have care for or treat broken bones. Take the kid to a doctor for that. Whoo, load off! Right?
Wrong! We have now reached the pinnacle of grossness. Below that adorable little belly button lies a load of worries. And by load, I mean load! The things that make their way out of your child’s abdomen and into that Mickey Mouse* diaper are unthinkable and unspeakable. Little bit of trivia for you. You will have what color poop when you eat Froot Loops*? If you said bright green then give yourself a gold sticker. Yes, as a parent you have diaper duty. And speaking of “duty”, why is it that we invent funny little names for bodily functions? Pee-pee, poo-poo, doodie, pees, stinkies, uh-oh, tinkle, and any other cutesy name that pops into our heads at the time. Oh, and speaking of heads. You know you have reached the brink of insanity when you see one of those tiny pieces of toy in the diaper all covered in yuck and after your initial panic attack thinking it is some part of the child’s guts that need to be taken to the surgeon so he can put it back where it goes you seriously think to yourself, “Do I dig it out and clean it off?” or an even more demented thought, “Do I call the big kids in and show this to them so they quit leaving their little pieces of toys laying around.” Recognize this as a sign that you are about to go insane and stop. Just fold the diaper up and throw it away. Pretend you didn’t see the object. It doesn’t exist. It was never there. You are still a good mom!
I said we were going head to foot. I thought it was some kind of practical joke when I smelled my infant son’s feet and they had the odor of a high-school gym locker room. My girls’ feet never smelled like anything else than baby powder. But my boys’ feet have stunk from day one. Not to mention the toe jam and sweaty, sticky sock fuzz that you gotta scrape off.
My precious gooey children haven’t yet reached the age of puberty. They tell me that the teenage years are so much worse. Frankly I don’t image how it could be worse. It will have to be my next chapter in the exposé on grossness.
People just don’t tell you all this stuff when you are oohing and ahhing over the soft cuddly bundle wrapped up in the stroller of a radiant starry-eyed young mother. It’s all a trick! They are wrapped up so you don’t see all the grossness. And those aren’t stars in her eyes, the poor woman hasn’t slept in days and her eyes are frozen open. But that is for another post.
* The name brands that I mentioned above are probably like protected by copyrights and have a bunch of trademarks. So like somebody buy some of their products and I think that they won’t mind that I mentioned them.
Monday, December 10
Summer Break
We are full swing into summer break. It feels very nice to have finished a school year and be able to focus on the year end festivities. The Bolivian school year runs from February to November. It makes logical sense to start and finish a school year in the same year; so we follow that system with our home schooling. To the South of the equator summer is November to March (more or less). For Cochabamba, Bolivia that means the rainy season. It has been relatively dry thus far; we are hoping for more rain since this is the only time during the year that rain comes.
We got our Christmas tree up this weekend. This is the earliest we have ever gotten it up. We had a bunch of fun as a family decorating, singing, laughing and munching.
Though I do so miss the frost and snow that enchant this season I am glad for my husband that we live in a place that they call “Eternal Spring”. He does not like the cold at all. I think I am getting used to my palm trees and sunshine on Christmas day. I am looking forward to it, actually.
Yeah for summer!
We got our Christmas tree up this weekend. This is the earliest we have ever gotten it up. We had a bunch of fun as a family decorating, singing, laughing and munching.
Though I do so miss the frost and snow that enchant this season I am glad for my husband that we live in a place that they call “Eternal Spring”. He does not like the cold at all. I think I am getting used to my palm trees and sunshine on Christmas day. I am looking forward to it, actually.
Yeah for summer!
Sunday, December 2
First Class in the Third World
As promised another train story. This is an excerpt from the old fashioned pencil and notebook journal I kept of our experiences. This particular selection was penned right after my adventure to capture the essence and emotion.
20-XI-07 Bolivia – November 2007
On the train ride from Oruro to Uyuni the need arose to use the bathroom. Before the trip began they showed a video in the cabin about the ride, safety regulations and the facilities available. They especially requested that proper use of all equipment be observed. The actress demonstrated what this proper use was in actuality. While demonstrating the use of the lavatory she smiled as she squeezed some soap from the dispenser and washed her hands in the tiny sink. Everything seemed so modern and pleasant.
I was so excited to go to the fancy dining car they had showed. I thought it was going to be so cool to walk between the cars by opening and shutting the doors. I just wanted to do it all – including using the bathroom. My moment had arrived.
So I found my way to the middle of our car where the fancy restroom was and opened the latch. Immediately I noticed two things. First it is significantly cooler in the w/c than in my nicely heated executive cabin. Next, the clickety-clack of the train track was much louder in the toilette (as the door indicated that this room was). Following theses first two observations I was sure I felt a breeze. Yes, there was cold air blowing on me – from below! I slowly peered over the edges of the metallic toilet seat only to discover that this was nothing more than a glorified squatty potty! A hole in the floor of the train with a filthy tube providing a great view of the tracks passing below. But, when you gotta go you gotta go. So I did my business. It was so cold! But I haven’t stopped grinning since. It was fun.
(For a similar type of story click here)
As an after note… I think I now know why the cute little Bolivian model on the video was smiling. She was probably thinking, “You’ve got to be kidding!” Well, I followed her lead to the letter; I was smiling the whole time I was scrubbing my hands in the diminutive basin. Oh, and this is the very best and most luxurious way to travel to Uyuni. I know because not even 10 seats up from me was seated the new United States ambassador to Bolivia and all his body guards with the twisty plastic tubing coming out of their ears.
20-XI-07 Bolivia – November 2007
On the train ride from Oruro to Uyuni the need arose to use the bathroom. Before the trip began they showed a video in the cabin about the ride, safety regulations and the facilities available. They especially requested that proper use of all equipment be observed. The actress demonstrated what this proper use was in actuality. While demonstrating the use of the lavatory she smiled as she squeezed some soap from the dispenser and washed her hands in the tiny sink. Everything seemed so modern and pleasant.
I was so excited to go to the fancy dining car they had showed. I thought it was going to be so cool to walk between the cars by opening and shutting the doors. I just wanted to do it all – including using the bathroom. My moment had arrived.
So I found my way to the middle of our car where the fancy restroom was and opened the latch. Immediately I noticed two things. First it is significantly cooler in the w/c than in my nicely heated executive cabin. Next, the clickety-clack of the train track was much louder in the toilette (as the door indicated that this room was). Following theses first two observations I was sure I felt a breeze. Yes, there was cold air blowing on me – from below! I slowly peered over the edges of the metallic toilet seat only to discover that this was nothing more than a glorified squatty potty! A hole in the floor of the train with a filthy tube providing a great view of the tracks passing below. But, when you gotta go you gotta go. So I did my business. It was so cold! But I haven’t stopped grinning since. It was fun.
(For a similar type of story click here)
As an after note… I think I now know why the cute little Bolivian model on the video was smiling. She was probably thinking, “You’ve got to be kidding!” Well, I followed her lead to the letter; I was smiling the whole time I was scrubbing my hands in the diminutive basin. Oh, and this is the very best and most luxurious way to travel to Uyuni. I know because not even 10 seats up from me was seated the new United States ambassador to Bolivia and all his body guards with the twisty plastic tubing coming out of their ears.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
