This Is Happening

Carter's sister-in-law has a great blog, This Is Happening, that I happen to adore for her intelligent musings. I'm sharing a post from her lovely blog that I LOVED for its insight into a confusing biblical topic:

The Serious Voice 

My baby is pretty little. He's too little to really be able to do anything to make me very angry, and certainly not intentionally. Sometimes I find that I have to gently punish him, but without fail it's because he did something either hurtful or dangerous, to him or me or others, and I need to teach him not to do it again. In fact, when I have to punish him, I'm usually so NOT angry that I have to fake this "serious voice," and I feel like I sound really silly, but I want him, in all his littleness, to understand how serious I am.

I was reading the scriptures this afternoon, and the Lord was making some pretty severe threats. The Jehovah we see in the Old Testament seems to be pretty severe, and there are other places in the scriptures that His words seem to take a very serious tone. Sometimes I have wondered how these threats and punishments can possibly come from the God we know, who we know to be kind and loving and merciful and tender.

But then, remembering grabbing Eli away from the kitchen garbage for the umpteenth time this morning, I realized. It's entirely possible that when the Lord says something like this: "In my fierce anger will I visit them in their iniquities and abominations... It shall come to pass that this generation, because of their iniquities, shall be brought into bondage, and shall be smitten on the cheek; yea, and shall be driven by men, and shall be slain; and the vultures of the air, and the dogs, yea, and the wild beasts, shall devour their flesh," he's not being vengeful. Actually, to me, it's more than possible, it's what I believe to be true. Because God is perfect, and even though I do sometimes get mad at Eli unnecessarily, God would not, and does not. God does not take things personally, and God does not like to punish his children. His threats aren't just-give-me-a-reason-to-do-it threats. This is the serious voice.

And here's the serious voice again: "Therefore I command you to repent--repent, lest I smite you by the rod of my mouth, and by my wrath, and by my anger, and your sufferings be sore--how sore you know not, how exquisite you know not, yea, how hard to bear you know not." That's less a threat than a plea. From a Father who wants his children, even though they're very little and may not really understand everything he tells them, to understand the gravity of the situation and learn not to disobey.

Love and chastening, justice and mercy. The older I get, the less they seem like opposites and the more they seem like twins.

Reconsidering Sleepovers

So I read this article on LDS Living and I'm wondering: Is a no-sleepover policy a crazy mom or a informed parent rule?

In the article, Wendy Green argues that  sleepovers allow a slew of problems including:

limited parental supervision
differing standard between households (access to guns, use of porn, R and X rated movies, video games)
sexual abuse including from peers acting out victimization
increased peer pressure (you can be registered as a sex offender if caught skinny-dipping or streaking)
drug and alcohol experimentation

One family I knew told a story about a well-respected lawyer who was accused by his daughter's friend of sexual abuse and although she later confessed to have accused him over some rift between the friends, his practice was shot.

While I can sing to her melody, aren't all of these problems present during "late-nights" or even regular hangouts? Isn't this a more of a problem with prolonged time away from home?

What do you all think? Have your sleepover experiences been problem-free or somewhat troublesome? I've never had a problem at one, though there have been some odder experiences (mother making me take a bath with their daughter. I mean, I was eight, but still).

Macy Makes My Day

October is Down's Syndrome Awareness Month! Did you know that 9 out of 10 women who find out that their child has Down's Syndrome will terminate the pregnancy? Does this news shock you? I bet most of these women never grew up in close proximity to someone with Down's Syndrome. If they had, then they would know that of course raising a child with DS comes with great difficulty (like any child) but it also comes with great joy! They would know that while Down's Syndrome children will never be developmentally perfect, they will still live full, happy lives. I think we should encourage more  women to keep their Down's Syndrome babies and see them as different, not damaged. 

Macy Makes My Day is an instagram created by a mother about her Down's Syndrome daughter, Macy. In her own words, she created the account because, "in this day and age with social media, we have endless opportunities to promote whatever the heck we want. And while social media may often be used for selfish and less than ideal purposes it's at my disposal to help the whole world see the beauty and gift that Down syndrome is." She adopted Macy as a baby and truly believes that parents of Down's Syndrome children are the blessed few. Some of Carter's family are looking to adopt a DS child and I think they would agree :) The portraits into Macy's life show a beautiful, vibrant, loving fashonista who only needed a chance at life to thrive. You absolutely have to look at her insta! She's adorable! Macy's mom also has a blog: Oh Macyn!

Ideas are Only Multipliers

I read this today from Derek Silvers and thought I would share:

It's so funny when I hear people being so protective of ideas. (People who want me to sign an NDA to tell me the simplest idea.) To me, ideas are worth nothing unless executed. They are just a multiplier. Execution is worth millions.

He goes on to explain that you have to multiply an idea and its execution to understand how much a business is worth. An idea on it's own is only worth a few dollars; even the most brilliant ideas out there are only worth twenty or so dollars. The execution is really where the money is at. A brilliant idea multiplied by brilliant execution is worth billions but a brilliant idea and no execution is worth nothing. Twitter is going public and their company is likely worth a BILLION dollars. I mean, TWITTER. My, and everyone else's, initially reaction to Twitter was, "Why would anybody use that?" and yet everyone you know and the White House uses it. A perfect example of a so-so idea with genius execution.

Does that sound like common sense? I guess it is, but the kind of common sense that everyone needs to know and be reminded of. I needed the reminder in regards to my life and food blog. In case you are wondering why that blog has sat stagnant for a couple of weeks (not that anyone except my most devoted stalkers would wonder that) it's because I'm thinking about what kind of blog I want it to be and who my target audience is and yada yada yada--all that stuff you learn in Freshman English and think is kinda irrelevant. Also, I'm in the middle of a DIY blog redesign which is talking waaaay longer than planned. Also I might be pregnant (not really) because I recklessly haven't renewed my birth control prescription and thus haven't taken it for a week so who knows? Ha ha. . . ha.

ANYWAYS, I've been somewhat pessimistic about the whole thing because a food blog is no new idea and there are thousands of them on these inter webs. How is anyone ever going to read MY blog and cook MY food? What do I even know about cooking? I'm only twenty-two! I didn't go to culinary school! I don't even know how to make pasta from scratch (I watched an 11 yr old on Junior Master Chef make a perfect gnocchi the day after my attempt at gnocchi miserably failed)! I only cook with foreign foods sometimes! SEE HOW THIS QUICKLY SPINS OUT OF CONTROL?

So what I'm trying to say is that I needed to remind myself that while my idea is not-so-new all I really need is some good execution. I think I can do this?

Conflicted at Work

Whenever people ask the "What are you doing these days?" question I usually answer with a truthful but not whole answer, something like "I work for the Alpine school district as a teaching assistant." For most people that usually does the trick, but the inquiring few ask "What school?" or "What grade?" And then I say well, actually it's a group home. And then they say what's a group home? And I answer it's where kids who are in state custody but need higher surveillance than a foster home go to live. And then they ask why are they there? And finally, I'm forced into the whole truth: it's a group home for underage male sexual offenders.

It's a dance I've perfected.

I try to avoid the end of this ritual, not because I am ashamed of my job but because I always hate what comes next: the look of offense or worry or alarm and then the final question, "What did they do?", with the underlying assumption that the answer could sum up the whole of their existence.

I always want to say "It's complicated" but I never do. Instead, I brush it off with a simple I don't know. In fact, I have some ideas but they're not pretty. If I tell them to you, you will imagine some picture of a sexual predator. That is partially true. Some of their crimes are truly horrific. If I focus on that side of their past I find myself emotionally distancing myself from them, so I try not to do that. They need love and discipline, not distance.

What I want you to know is that they aren't just sexual predators. They are people like you and me. In a way, that's even more frightening because they are just like you and me--not internally of course, but externally they are just like any demographic of teenage boys. It is absolutely chilling to realize there are likely many more undetected sexual predators in schools. I mean if you came into our classroom (or even taught here for that matter) you would have no idea. So most of the time I don't think of them as sexual offenders. I get in the mode of thinking of them as normal guys--something I can't afford to do. Carter worries about my safety at work, though I always tell him it is unecessary. At school we're all stuffed into one classroom with three to five other adults at any given moment, and even if I ever were alone with any of the kids, only two of them are big enough to pose any real threat. In any case, none of these boys are particularly aggressive; they're manipulative--their victims are usually trusting children they know that can take advantage of. Therein lies the real threat. If I forget that they are sexual offenders, it's easier to put myself in compromising situations. So I try to always remember.

Another confusing part of this puzzle is how much I love them. I love them! I want them to recover and  succeed and live normal lives with loving families and good jobs, not suffer for all the horrible things they've done. And the thing is God loves them. He has their names written on the palms of His hands. He looks to his lost sheep and mourns. I, too, find myself mourning their lost childhoods and broken minds. To be so emotionally, mentally, and physically unstable is so tragic for such a young age. I mean, 13! 17! It's too young. Some of them have really dysfunctional families that explain how wrong their lives are at their age, but some of them have really normal parents who are absolutely heartbroken by their child's choices.

So there it is: the pity and horror and love all jumbled up in my mind everyday. When I go to work I have to simultaneously remember their crimes and forget they are criminals. It's an inner conflict I'm still working on.

Summer Reads: Matterhorn

Graduating and just working part-time while I try to get my act together has left me with mountains of extra time. At first I wasted away my free time with the same reckless abandon I used in college. I mean, what if I never had another free moment to waste again? What if this was my last chance to mindlessly troll pinterest and facebook and dream about future renovations to hypothetical houses?

Several months later, I realize there is only so much time a week I can waste and still maintain my self-esteem. All of this is just to say that I am reading more and I started a food blog. Only Carter (and now the rest of the internet) knows that cooking and food occupy 30% of my daily thoughts. You should know, as an accurate estimation, 30% is A LOT of time and thoughts. It only barely falls under how often I think of Carter and rises far above the thoughts I devote to finding a full-time job. Being real here. My new food blog is called A Dash or Two and I focus on easy, fast recipes with uncompromised taste. Part of me wants to bury this blog in the depths of the Internet until I can perfect every recipe and word but in an effort for personal growth, I putting myself out there mistakes and all. It's a work in progress but take a look anyway and if you don’t now, don’t worry I’ll probably be spamming your facebooks and blogger in the future.

In other, aforementioned news, I am reading more. I should probably just get one of those Goodreads accounts but there are only so many social media sites a real human can join, hence:

Matterhorn: A Review

In the spirit of full disclosure, you probably will feel depressed at the end of Matterhorn. It is a fictional book set in the Vietnam War, though written by an actual Vietnam combat veteran based on his experiences. Aaaaand the language is way past borderline. BUT in its defense it entirely changed the way I view war. I want to share my favorite part of the book in which two soldiers are talking on the eve of a major and deadly battle:

“You think we go to heaven when we die?” Jermain asked.

“I don’t think nothin’. I believe Jesus take care of us when we die.” Cortell looked at Jermain. “Believin’s not thinkin’.”

Jermain took that in for a while. “What if you’re wrong?”

Cortell laughed. “What if you wrong? You been worse off than me all you life. I got the safe bet, not you.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t believe.”

“No, you just playing it safe and not choosin’. Jesus don’t want you to play safe. You don’t get anyplace if you don’t choose.”

“I don’t want to go nowhere but back to the world.”

“Yeah, I be right there with you,” Cortell said. He was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Ever’one here think it easy for me. I be this good little church boy from Mississippi with my good little church-goin’ Mammy, and since I be this stupid country nigger with the big faith, I don’t have no troubles. Well, it just don’t work that way.” He paused. Jermain said nothing. “I see my friend Williams get ate by a tiger,” Cortell continued, “I see my friend Broyer get his face ripped off by a mine. What you think I do all night, sit around thankin’ Sweet Jesus? Raise my palms to sweet heaven and cry hallelujah? You know what I do? You know what do? I lose my heart.” Cortell’s throat suddenly tightened, strangling his words. “I lose my heart.” He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. He exhaled and went on quietly, back in control. “I sit there and I don’t see any hope. Hope gone.” Cortell was seeing his dead friends. “Then the sky turn gray again in the east, and you know what I do? I choose all over again to keep believin’…It ain’t no easy thing.”

I LOVE that passage. I love that he describes faith as a choice. Unreligious people so often look at the religious and think that we are all brainwashed, somehow fooled by a mass delusion. What they don’t realize is that faith and hope is a choice, and it’s a choice everyday. Some days it’s easy to choose faith but other times it can be very, very hard. Isn’t that a beautiful passage?

The Name Game

I've been considering whether or not I should change my name. . .but ya know,  not really.

Part of me really likes my last name. Landon. It's phonetic, in the middle of the alphabet, and doesn't hint of some trashy celebrity. It has always made me feel like a part of a whole, one of the Landon clan. I imagine keeping it would be kinda chic and different and maybe a tinsy bit feminist, like a statement of "I know who I am and this is it." Feminism carries so many bad connotations, none of which I really mean. I don't really mean to say that taking his last name would encourage male oppression of the female population. 

Having said that, I've been pretty sensitive to gender discrimination lately. I think it's a phase but I can't be sure. Gender discrimination still exists, did you know that? Women still get paid less than men for performing the same job. So your "make me a sandwich jokes" aren't really funny. 

 Sorry. Rant.

Anyway, Carter doesn't know that I have been thinking of keeping my last name. We talked about it and I told him I would take Davis. And I will, despite my musings, because in the end presenting a united front and working in unity with my husband is most important . . . maybe we can hyphenate? (just kidding, Carter)

P.S. You can read more stories on last name decisions at The Last Name Project.

THIS IS MY WEDDING DAY

If we're in the spirit of regrets and disappointments here then I could probably tell you that I wish I hadn't taken my mom's advice and that I had styled my own hair. I wish I would have ordered my dress in white so I could find some GLAMOROUS elbow-length gloves that would match. Annnnd if I'm being really honest than the venues and catering were also a bit much (did I say that???). But tell me, what's a wedding without a Bridezilla? really, tell me. is it nice?

In a different spirit (apparently a spirit of cliches), my wedding was also perfect, because I got married. As it turns out, weddings are not about flowers and cakes and perfect get-aways with sparklers. BREAKING NEWS. Despite my week of non-stop breakdowns, I floated on cloud nine all day. I was untouchable and it was magic.

In other breaking news, marriage is actually really great and not horrible and life-ruining. So that's been nice for me.

P.S. I usually retro-date my posts because the pressure of posting on time is oppressive, but I've always wondered how that works out with blogger. Do you see my posts come up in your feed on June 26th 2013 or December 15th 2012? Help a blogger out, will ya?