So I saw Fahrenheit 9/11 tonight.
Wow.
I knew much of what Michael Moore referenced, but to combine the facts with a bit of speculation--I think it raises questions that all Americans need to ask, and see answered: Why is it that those who are calling the shots are never in the line of fire (to quote Ani)? Why is it that out of the 535 members of Congress, only 1 has a child serving in Iraq? What is the connection between the Bushes and the Saudi BinLaden group? What did the government know about 9/11, and what did they seek to keep hidden? What was in the 28 sealed pages of the 9/11 commission report?
Why are some people so apathetic about it all?
Those bombs don't just go boom, they blow off arms, and legs, and faces, and children's noses, and husbands, and wives, and children...
after watching this, I would almost advocate a national draft (this is not even mentioned in the film) just because I think it would cause our nation's "leaders" to think twice, as it is their children that are fighting beside those poor enlistees. Want to make all men and women more equal in this country? Try a draft. We'll back down and pacify quickly.
Go watch it, please. Let me know what you think. And listen to his points--you don't have to be a Bush hater to ask these questions. You just have to have a love for Democracy and the openness that should exist between a government and its peoples.
Tuesday, June 29, 2004
Wednesday, June 16, 2004
The Book of Ruth
Today I was shocked and heartbroken to hear that the famous (and infamous) Ruth = had passed away due to kidney failure (ie complications and side effects of the chemo and radiation). Those of you who knew Ruth are undoubtly heartbroken; those who didn't know her will wish you did. Ruth had the ability to make it seem that her days were 48 hours long, compared to the measly 24 of the rest of the world. She could raise four wonderful and successful kids, have a loving marriage (34 yrs next week), be active in a church, get Young Life started in LoCo and sit on committee, start "Lifeline" (a line for pregnant women in need of counseling), run my small group, horseback ride regularly, travel the world (doing things like bringing wheelchairs to paralized and disabled people in Romania or ride in a cattledrive in Montana...seriously), read a ton of books and still have 'downtime'. I don't think the woman slept. She was truly the matriarch of all things western LoCo and much more. I saw her on Saturday at Michelle's wedding and talked to her for just a moment--she looked so small and frail, but still had that sparkle in her eye that meant that if you talked to her for too long, you'd invaribly end up doing something for Ruth and totally thinking it was your idea in the firstplace. She had that ability and knew it; she could turn up that ol' South Carolina charm and get an eskimo to by an icebox not just for his family, but for the entire tribe.
I just think about all the thousands--not tens, not hundreds, but literally THOUSANDS--of lives she has touched in her 50-some odd years on this earth. She leaves a legacy and quite an example of what a mobilized christian can do, because there was nothing Ruth couldn't do. She took on Jen, Fran and I when we were 16-year-old punks resenting our small group leader leaving us for college. She worked so hard just to spend time with the three of us, and we never let her know how much it actually mattered. I regret that.
Ruth was not just a friend, mother, wife, mentor, boss, coulselor or gossip queen: she was a force. The woman had a gravitational pull about her; she moved earth in a way I don't know if I'll ever truly comprehend.
And she will be sorely missed.
I just think about all the thousands--not tens, not hundreds, but literally THOUSANDS--of lives she has touched in her 50-some odd years on this earth. She leaves a legacy and quite an example of what a mobilized christian can do, because there was nothing Ruth couldn't do. She took on Jen, Fran and I when we were 16-year-old punks resenting our small group leader leaving us for college. She worked so hard just to spend time with the three of us, and we never let her know how much it actually mattered. I regret that.
Ruth was not just a friend, mother, wife, mentor, boss, coulselor or gossip queen: she was a force. The woman had a gravitational pull about her; she moved earth in a way I don't know if I'll ever truly comprehend.
And she will be sorely missed.
Friday, June 11, 2004
Saved!
I went and saw the new movie "Saved!" tonight with four of my girlfriends (seeing as there are absolutely no guys my age IN THIS COUNTY, this is how it typically is). All four of us volunteer or work in high school ministry. One of my friends is as liberal as me, so I knew that the two of us would find it hilarious. The other three I wondered about.
I should have wondered.
It is definitely caustic toward the Christian culture in general, and about 95% of the satire is well deserved. And, simply put, much of it is absolutely hilarious. Let's face it, Christians are EASY to make fun of.
But what got me as I walked away from the movie (not making eye contact with some of the girls, as I was afraid of the rage that might be simmering there) was not just the humor and satire, but the truthfulness of some of the characters, and how much I sympathized with the main character, Mary, who falls away from a faith that I'm not sure was ever real to her. She was raised in the church and always surrounded by Christians, thus her faith was more a group march rather than a personal walk. She is confronted with a situation that would cause most to question God's methods or plan, and the judgment and callousness toward her from those 'Christians' around her would make almost anyone walk away. It's simply, "If this is what it means to be a Christian, then I don't want to be a part of it...and I don't know if he would even want me anymore." I wonder how many people, every day, think those very same words. I did.
Mandy Moore's character of Hillary Faye was a caricature of so many people I knew growing up. She epitomized all the reasons I began a life-long aversion to "Christian" types. From the prideful praises to the use of prayer as an excuse to gossip and it is so amazing to see how one person's false walk can harm dozens of true (but tarnished) ones. How someone who may have genuinely wanted to further God's work let it get to her pride, and thus used it as a ramp to get the things she wanted and not remember the rest.
However, the best character by far was the one of Patrick, the pastor's son and new kid in school. His character is a shining example of what a real Christian should (and often does) look like. He didn't come in with any preconceived notions as to who he was to be or how he was to effect lives. He didn't mouth off about his dislikes and gracefully considered each person before deciding his role in their life. When the mistakes and imperfections came out, he was the first to say "I don't care--we all screw up. But I know you, and I won't let that person go just because they aren't perfect." How much more loving and Christ-like can you get? If there were just ten more Patricks in the world, there'd be 100 less Marys.
I almost want more Christians to see it, not for the comedic portions, but for the characters themselves. Really observe their reactions to the people and situations around them, and then wonder if this movie didn't actually do something for the work of Christ: it let Christians know what they look like. On the drive home my friend pointed out that during the 2000 presidential race, both Gore and Bush would watch the spoofs of them on SNL to see how to improve their campaign--they used the footage of people mocking them to see how others may actually view them--and it changed the way they reacted to America.
I should have wondered.
It is definitely caustic toward the Christian culture in general, and about 95% of the satire is well deserved. And, simply put, much of it is absolutely hilarious. Let's face it, Christians are EASY to make fun of.
But what got me as I walked away from the movie (not making eye contact with some of the girls, as I was afraid of the rage that might be simmering there) was not just the humor and satire, but the truthfulness of some of the characters, and how much I sympathized with the main character, Mary, who falls away from a faith that I'm not sure was ever real to her. She was raised in the church and always surrounded by Christians, thus her faith was more a group march rather than a personal walk. She is confronted with a situation that would cause most to question God's methods or plan, and the judgment and callousness toward her from those 'Christians' around her would make almost anyone walk away. It's simply, "If this is what it means to be a Christian, then I don't want to be a part of it...and I don't know if he would even want me anymore." I wonder how many people, every day, think those very same words. I did.
Mandy Moore's character of Hillary Faye was a caricature of so many people I knew growing up. She epitomized all the reasons I began a life-long aversion to "Christian" types. From the prideful praises to the use of prayer as an excuse to gossip and it is so amazing to see how one person's false walk can harm dozens of true (but tarnished) ones. How someone who may have genuinely wanted to further God's work let it get to her pride, and thus used it as a ramp to get the things she wanted and not remember the rest.
However, the best character by far was the one of Patrick, the pastor's son and new kid in school. His character is a shining example of what a real Christian should (and often does) look like. He didn't come in with any preconceived notions as to who he was to be or how he was to effect lives. He didn't mouth off about his dislikes and gracefully considered each person before deciding his role in their life. When the mistakes and imperfections came out, he was the first to say "I don't care--we all screw up. But I know you, and I won't let that person go just because they aren't perfect." How much more loving and Christ-like can you get? If there were just ten more Patricks in the world, there'd be 100 less Marys.
I almost want more Christians to see it, not for the comedic portions, but for the characters themselves. Really observe their reactions to the people and situations around them, and then wonder if this movie didn't actually do something for the work of Christ: it let Christians know what they look like. On the drive home my friend pointed out that during the 2000 presidential race, both Gore and Bush would watch the spoofs of them on SNL to see how to improve their campaign--they used the footage of people mocking them to see how others may actually view them--and it changed the way they reacted to America.
Tuesday, June 8, 2004
Bounce
The other day I wrote about fighting the frustration of pain and its control over my life.
Today the struggle was compounded.
As the possibility of a quick-fix dims, the prospect of a long-term rehabilitation becomes the only option to the seemingly impossible conclusion of chronic, life-long back pain. It cannot be door #2, thus it must be door #1. It cannot be door #2 because I cannot handle even the remotest of chances that that could be the only ending. It cannot be door #2 because I am young, and I should bounce back; I am one who bounces back. This is a shot to the pride as much as it is a side-step on my road to recovery, and I am a prideful person. But last night as I was praying, I asked God to take away the pain, and if that wasn't part of the plan, then to give me the ability to work with it and not let it drive me insane. The only thing I know right now is he will be faithful to answer that prayer. It will take more grace than I can fathom to live with this forever, grace that I clearly do not have. I want to be useful in whatever capacity he would have for me.
Thursday I go in for a bone scan, a 3-4 hour process of an injection of low-level radiation and a full-body scan, so as to get a more detailed view of any abnormalities in my body. It will detect tumors, degenerations, hairline fractures or disc problems, and hopefully will shed light on the path of plan B, which I plead will lead to door #1 and the ability to live without pain once again. I am young; I will bounce.
Today the struggle was compounded.
As the possibility of a quick-fix dims, the prospect of a long-term rehabilitation becomes the only option to the seemingly impossible conclusion of chronic, life-long back pain. It cannot be door #2, thus it must be door #1. It cannot be door #2 because I cannot handle even the remotest of chances that that could be the only ending. It cannot be door #2 because I am young, and I should bounce back; I am one who bounces back. This is a shot to the pride as much as it is a side-step on my road to recovery, and I am a prideful person. But last night as I was praying, I asked God to take away the pain, and if that wasn't part of the plan, then to give me the ability to work with it and not let it drive me insane. The only thing I know right now is he will be faithful to answer that prayer. It will take more grace than I can fathom to live with this forever, grace that I clearly do not have. I want to be useful in whatever capacity he would have for me.
Thursday I go in for a bone scan, a 3-4 hour process of an injection of low-level radiation and a full-body scan, so as to get a more detailed view of any abnormalities in my body. It will detect tumors, degenerations, hairline fractures or disc problems, and hopefully will shed light on the path of plan B, which I plead will lead to door #1 and the ability to live without pain once again. I am young; I will bounce.
Sunday, June 6, 2004
Thirteen Goes On
Tonight Amber and I watched the movie "Thirteen", starring Holly Hunter. Wow. It has drastically changed my idea of what middle and high school students may be faced with now. The whole time I was watching that movie I was struck with how lucky and blessed I was to have had friends and peers that were not into the drugs and sex and piercings that these kids got into. I had mentors and leaders who loved me in such a way that if indeed that was happening at my school (which I don't think it was to any serious degree) I wouldn't have been interested, as I was OK with who I was. I was in 7th grade ten years ago and I have to honestly say I wouldn't have known what drugs looked like if you'd put them in front of me. It was just so desturbing I'm almost at a loss for words--it confirmed some of the problems I've thought existed between girls and guys at that age, but it also painted such a clear picture of what life can be like w/o the knowledge and belief of unconditional love. It's nice to know I've been saved, and its amazing to see what from.
Saturday, June 5, 2004
The Butcher, The Candlestick Maker, and Me
So yesterday I got my assignment for summer staff: I'm a baker at Saranac for the month of August. I hope I get a cool baker's hat. Seriously, I am so excited and intimidated by the prospect of serving for a month in that capacity; and in something I only have a vague understanding of is all the more intriguing. Wow. I have a feeling that this experience at Saranac will change my life.
Last night we flaked out of camping because it was forcasted to rain the entire time and my friends are Sallies. But still we had a girls night at Jenny's house, with margaritas, cigars, and kings. It was one of the most fun nights I've had in recent memories. Especially when Grafton said, "I'm a pretty, pretty girl." and meant it as a question. If you see him, ask him if he is, indeed, a pretty, pretty girl.
Tell him the baker sent you.
Last night we flaked out of camping because it was forcasted to rain the entire time and my friends are Sallies. But still we had a girls night at Jenny's house, with margaritas, cigars, and kings. It was one of the most fun nights I've had in recent memories. Especially when Grafton said, "I'm a pretty, pretty girl." and meant it as a question. If you see him, ask him if he is, indeed, a pretty, pretty girl.
Tell him the baker sent you.
Thursday, June 3, 2004
Cicada it ain't so!
I know it's a terrible pun, and for that I apologize. I just got ahead of myself. Today I was driving home from work down Rt 7, enjoying the sun and stuck in the long caravan of lives at 60mph, when suddenly a cicada flew in my window and struck me in the temple. HARD. I don't know how fast that impact was, but it was enough to make me feel dizzy. It was like being hit in the head with a tennis ball, only with less bounce and a lot more legs. After I regained my self, I realized how hilarious it was; can you just imagine that insurance report? "Lost control of car when large, red-eyed insect flew through window and stuck the driver in the temple, knocking her senseless." Somehow I don't think Geico would find the humor that I do. Oh well. Only me, eh?
Today I got the chance to talk to Dylan and Caroline for over an hour--they are two of my closest friends in Syracuse. The three of us are more like family than many parts of my actual family. We are considering getting a place together, somewhere here in the east--thee was discussion of somewhere in Vermont, or even Charlottesville. I am confident that a place with the three of us would be akin to the home of Pan's Lost boys, only with less children strewn about and probably more alcohol. We want a triple-decker king size bunkbed, if they indeed make something like that...or hammocks. Hammocks would be fun as well. It would be a boisterous rebellion against the onslaught of grown-up-hood that seems to be attacking at every turn. Marriage and buying houses and a 401(k), all things to not speak of in our home. Dylan and I are pretty serious about it, but it remains to be seen what Caroline decides. She is really the one who has more to lose in this deal, being the only one with a career and a boyfriend, so her apprehension is both expected and understandable...
On another note, Amber, Jenny and I are going camping tomorrow night with some of Amber's friends. Amber does not camp. Ever. When she heard it might rain, she asked if she should pack an umbrella. It will be an interesting experience!
Today I got the chance to talk to Dylan and Caroline for over an hour--they are two of my closest friends in Syracuse. The three of us are more like family than many parts of my actual family. We are considering getting a place together, somewhere here in the east--thee was discussion of somewhere in Vermont, or even Charlottesville. I am confident that a place with the three of us would be akin to the home of Pan's Lost boys, only with less children strewn about and probably more alcohol. We want a triple-decker king size bunkbed, if they indeed make something like that...or hammocks. Hammocks would be fun as well. It would be a boisterous rebellion against the onslaught of grown-up-hood that seems to be attacking at every turn. Marriage and buying houses and a 401(k), all things to not speak of in our home. Dylan and I are pretty serious about it, but it remains to be seen what Caroline decides. She is really the one who has more to lose in this deal, being the only one with a career and a boyfriend, so her apprehension is both expected and understandable...
On another note, Amber, Jenny and I are going camping tomorrow night with some of Amber's friends. Amber does not camp. Ever. When she heard it might rain, she asked if she should pack an umbrella. It will be an interesting experience!
Tuesday, June 1, 2004
Never Come Back
Lately I've been looking hard for reasons to not be frustrated. I'm in a job that leaves me mentally mushy with lousy pay, I live at home, I have a car that's so bad it should be on "Pimp My Ride", I am so single my parents think I'm gay, half my friends have moved on, and my back is so seriously messed up that I have watched a whole year pass without the ability to participate in any activities I love (I haven't paddled since Bull Falls was nearly flood stage last May) or do anything without constant and grating pain. There's a lot to be frustrated about.
But today the prospect of just one of those issues being remedied makes the whole lot seem less daunting. Soon my back may be fixed; I might be healed. I can handle living at home if I don't wake up in pain. I'm fine being single anyway, but even better when I can be comfortable just sitting in a chair. I can deal with a car that breaks down if I can walk without having to lay down for the rest of the day. I'm fine missing an eddy turn and totally getting douched if it means that I can actually carry my boat by myself at the end of the day. I'm tired of being weak and slouched and in pain all the damn time! I'm tired of it! I don't want it! And if they have to give me a friggin' new spine I'll take it! A friend the other day asked if I was nervous or scared about surgery; I honestly hadn't thought about it--the only thought I could imagine was the first one waking up out of a drugged state and not feeling, for the first time in years, back pain. I will cry, simply out of joy. It is a notion that I can only distantly imagine right now. And I don't like to make an issue of it because it's my own personal physical pain, but on the day that I move without back pain I will understand that much more the feelings of the paralyzed man whose friends dropped him through the ceiling before Jesus and who was healed, spritually and physically. Christ has healed me spiritually; now I'm just waiting for him to say, "Take up your mat and go home." I will be a different person.
I'm ready to be different.
My first apt is June 8th.
But today the prospect of just one of those issues being remedied makes the whole lot seem less daunting. Soon my back may be fixed; I might be healed. I can handle living at home if I don't wake up in pain. I'm fine being single anyway, but even better when I can be comfortable just sitting in a chair. I can deal with a car that breaks down if I can walk without having to lay down for the rest of the day. I'm fine missing an eddy turn and totally getting douched if it means that I can actually carry my boat by myself at the end of the day. I'm tired of being weak and slouched and in pain all the damn time! I'm tired of it! I don't want it! And if they have to give me a friggin' new spine I'll take it! A friend the other day asked if I was nervous or scared about surgery; I honestly hadn't thought about it--the only thought I could imagine was the first one waking up out of a drugged state and not feeling, for the first time in years, back pain. I will cry, simply out of joy. It is a notion that I can only distantly imagine right now. And I don't like to make an issue of it because it's my own personal physical pain, but on the day that I move without back pain I will understand that much more the feelings of the paralyzed man whose friends dropped him through the ceiling before Jesus and who was healed, spritually and physically. Christ has healed me spiritually; now I'm just waiting for him to say, "Take up your mat and go home." I will be a different person.
I'm ready to be different.
My first apt is June 8th.
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