"Guess the Impulse Buy": A Fun, New Game

I made a special trip to the store tonight, folks, and I bought the following:

• Gatorade
• Fantastic yellow nail polish
• Chocolate
• Antiperspirant (you know, with aluminum)

Which was not on the original list? Probably 1/3 of you guessed it (because, let's face it, chocolate is ALWAYS on the list): Gatorade.

I won't explain the nail polish. So, regarding the deodorant, I've been trying to take two steps to prevent breast cancer (and only two steps, 'cause, well, let's not get crazy): use deodorant without aluminum, and use BPA-free bottles. But tonight I needed deodorant with aluminum in it, because tomorrow I'm helping with a wedding. There's pressure to look and smell good, despite lifting chairs and rolling tables, and keeping calm when the electricity goes out. So, here's to making an exception!

----

More on bottles: http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/03/090326100714.htm
I'm not providing you any links on the aluminum thing. The studies are generally inconclusive, like, not enough to take aluminum antiperspirant off the market, but conclusive enough for us to stop buying it.

The Horror/Honor of Needing People

After special needs week at my favorite summer camp, we were in the midst of group debriefing when someone began his story with something like: "Despite the fact that these people have been dealt a horrible hand, they are still cheerful..." I don't remember what else he said because I got all hung up on the word "horrible." What was so horrible about needing help with things? Even things like going to the bathroom. Or what was so horrible about smiling all the time? Or what was so horrible about occasionally bursting out in shouts or song? Or what was so horrible about pacing a lot, and needing to be calmed down by other people? These situations are not average, of course. But were they horrible?

We're afraid to need each other. We're afraid to have to bear ourselves in the most vulnerable way, like needing to be helped in the bathroom.

As we told stories at the end of the week, I know several of us were surprised that the sights and smells of the bathroom did not repulse us more. I know we were surprised that we felt incredible accomplishment, and incredible humility after helping to wipe another person. It's a matter for gratitude to the one in need that we were able to be so materially helpful, so intimately trusted.

Each of those most vulnerable people are able to bestow upon their helpers a valuable gift which cannot be repaid. Who is greater in the Kingdom? The person who has no choice but to be vulnerable (like widows and orphans in a patriarchal society, or the meek, poor in spirit, persecuted, Matthew 5), because God says he will personally plead their case, bless them, give them the earth for an inheritance; or the one helping the vulnerable person, like the good Samaritan, who fulfilled the requirements of the Kingdom by loving his neighbor as himself?

We have to become like little children, Jesus said, trusting implicitly. We have to acknowledge how we cannot help ourselves, and smile up at our Father, and say, "thank you for wiping me."

To be honest, just writing that makes me uncomfortable. But... vulnerable ≠ horrible, in fact, it may be the opposite in light of eternity.

Why Summer Makes Me a Better Teacher

Someone told me recently that good teaching takes good content and good delivery. By content, she explained, she meant the life well lived, not just the lesson plan, but the honing of my approach to life. By delivery, she meant being able to explain my approach; because if you're a teacher, that's what you're teaching from beginning to end: how you view life.

That is what the summer is good for:

Perspective
Being quiet
Looking at a sunset, and letting it wash over me for as long as it will.
Not being the first to leave,
Not having something to say,
Not having a plan,
Not eating at 5 pm if I'm not hungry,
Reading for hours,
Talking around the fire,
Setting up a tent and sleeping in it,
Taking a nap midday because I didn't sleep well in the tent.

Summer is good for driving for hours to see my people,
Going to church,
Turning off my phone,
Going the long route on the jogging trail,
Having brunch with small groups of people,
Talking at the kitchen table about the world's problems,
Praying at the kitchen table about our own problems,
Writing letters that help me to sort through the crashing waves of thought,

And later, in August, summer is good for remembering why I love a schedule and a routine and students.

No Culture Has it All Right

But, c'mon, Japan. Schadenfreude on a whole new level. Start at 1:17. I dare you not to laugh at some of these moments. Others are just cruel, like the lady with the vegetables.

Time Passing Under the Siamese, Silly-Leaf Tree*

By my part of the stream in a corner of the park, the new summer breeze draws its silk cape over my bare arms.
Who knows what may come or go?
But may God receive praise for it all.
For this moment: the grass bits on this paper, the sap from that old tree: knowing that life probably goes on.
For the last moment: when I saw the soft heart of someone for whom I'd given up hope.
And for the next moment: when life will continue or end at Your pleasure.
Be praised, Great God.

Ant biting my ankle.
Two mallards swimming by.
A groundhog, honestly, nibbling at leaves above its head, exposing its soft belly.
A branch creaking in the wind, like a strange bird or a rusty door,
and, naturally, two heavy-footed humans scare the groundhog away, and the breeze stops,
as does the rusty door-branch. The mallards are past now.
The stream is still flowing, at least.

---

*I believe we've talked about how I don't know the names of things in nature. This is a tree whose trunk splits very low, creating two, and whose leaves look like mittens and high-five hands.

A Sparse Month

So much for blogging in the month of May.

Readers, I did write a poem that I'm proud of. But I like it because it's true and close to my heart. So close, in fact, that I cannot yet share it here. So please accept this placeholder until the day when I am far enough removed from this moment to fill the empty space below with the only thing I will then be able to offer you: a vintage rendition of feelings long past.

• 

Lesson #33: Don't Pretend to Know What You're Talking About

This blog contains many life lessons. I estimate that we're about to lesson 33. Either Twain or Lincoln said it well, "Better to be silent and be thought a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt." Merely for the sake of illustration, I present to you a real-life story.

When I was student teaching, there were a few days when my mentor teacher was out for illness. As per the law, a substitute teacher came into the classroom for the whole day. But I was de facto teacher for the day. That was fun and all, but I wanna talk about the one substitute teacher. He was studying to become an acupuncturist. Ladies and gentlemen, even now I have no idea how acupuncture works. And for the purposes of this lesson, all you need to know is that when, we'll say, Kevin, explained it to me, he used the term "meridians," in a non-condescending, non-threatening way: "So, I'm not sure if you've heard of these, but acupuncturists believe the body has many meridians..."

In as sophisticated a manner as possible, I responded that yes, I had in fact heard of meridians, and in an unlikely place: Star Wars Episode I, ain't it just the darn'dest?

Midichlorians. No, Carolyn. No.