Returns on Investments

If I buy groceries and provide a recipe, the teens can make dinner. In this case, the mushroom bisque from Cook's Illustrated, and roasted parsnips, carrots, and Brussels sprouts. (The beige thing next to the soup is store-bought garlic bread. It was, by far, the least delicious thing on the plate.)

Granted, by the time I was their age, I could (and did) make meals for the family.

But now there is Google. The boys can research recipes and come up with their own ideas. And they also have a grocery store within a mile--many more possibilities than back in my day.

They still have lots of questions and need a certain amount of guidance. And granted, the texture of the bisque wasn't QUITE as smooth as I'd make it, and the Brussels got a bit crispier than I'd like.  And yet, I didn't have to do any of it.

Not even dishes.

And later, one of them brought me a dish of ice cream.

Finding Comfort

Behold pink bunny and Snoopy, two of the comfort objects of my childhood. 

Pink bunny was once much pinker and much whiter, with a soft fur all over. Now you can only find evidence of that fur within the folds of her ears. Her nose was felt I think, and left us years ago. 

Snoopy, over the years, has lost an ear and various seams have burst open. At this point he might have more mends than original stitching. And while he's gotten quite dingy, I don't dare put him in the wash.

I am not Linus trailing his blanket. Mostly these comfort objects sit in our guest bedroom, more objects of nostalgia than anything else.

At the same time, I feel no need to take away someone's lovey. Indeed, why would we deny someone comfort? Perhaps we give the object some boundaries, but really, life is hard enough.

Choosing Battles

Let sleeping dogs lie.
Never wake a sleeping baby.

I get it.

But my teen fell asleep wrapped in MY favorite blanket.

Dare I switch out blankets and risk waking him?
Well, his claws aren't too long... and he's had his shots...

And he doesn't have to be up in the morning, but I do. And it's cold in this house.

*yoink*

A Theology of #SexUUality

Unitarian Universalists have a long history of courage in tackling issues around human sexuality—from campaigning for human rights, to pioneering innovative work in the Our Whole Lives sexuality curriculum… join #UUs this month for a discussion of sex–the challenging parts, the beautiful parts, the spiritual parts, and even the downright goofy parts. UU or not, everyone is welcome to join in the conversation this month at #sexUUality

Most Sunday School offices have shelves of curriculum binders, books, and other resources. Years ago, inventorying my inherited cabinet, I found fifty-three Bibles, a half dozen recycling guides, most every UUA curriculum... and then I came across what looked like a small black laptop bag. The label on the front was something nondescript like "Educator Kit."

I unzipped the bag and laughed as a wooden "condom demonstrator" and a dozen condoms fell to the floor.  Further investigation showed a wider variety of contraceptives and other resources.

In partnership with the United Church of Christ, the Unitarian Universalist Association puts a lot of resources into producing Our Whole Lives (OWL), a comprehensive sexuality education program for people at all ages and stages of life. The materials are fact-based, facilitator training is required, and there's a strong emphasis on community-building and dialogue.

In our current social climate of purity education, legislation against women's reproductive rights, and so much discrimination, faith-based sexuality education can seem a ridiculous combination.

But I assure you--this is deeply theological work. Speaking to what is most dear, most joyous, most painful in our lives--the sublime and the messy, sometimes all in the same moment. It is difficult, maybe even impossible, to embody our values without a healthy and moral understanding of our sexuality.

As a Unitarian Universalist religious professional, I am called to be a theologian. And that theology must affirm all people, with their full selves. 
Engage!

Unitarian minister and theologian James Luther Adams explained the qualities of liberal religion--commonly referred to as the Five Smooth Stones of Liberal Religion*.

I asked my blogging community if anyone had applied the five stones to a UU theology of sexuality- a fellow blogger quipped that it might be like adding "in bed" to your fortune... let's see how it lines up. For this exercise, I'm borrowing quick snippets from an Adult Ed resource- text in bold is either a quote or a quick restating of JLA's** key concept.

Revelation is ongoing - We are always learning more about our own sexuality, about our communities, and how we can do better at building a world where we are all affirmed for our full authentic selves. And there's definitely no single Gospel truth to sexuality. PASS.

"All relations between persons ought ideally to rest on mutual, free consent and not on coercion." AMEN. This right here is ginormous and worth every blog post I could write for the rest of my life, especially when we're talking sexuality. So much of the OWL values and sessions speak directly to this point. PASS

I'm going to group these next three, as that's how they play out in my mind...

"The moral obligation to direct one's effort toward the establishment of a just and loving community" - We are called to work for justice.

"we deny the immaculate conception of virtue and affirm the necessity of social incarnation." We can't just assume that it's all going to work out--we make it happen. 

"...resources (divine and human) that are available for the achievement of meaningful change justify an attitude of ultimate optimism." There is hope, and the systems and possibilities to make that hope feasible.

The existence of OWL, the many amazing sermons and resources we have created, the important advocacy work we have done as individuals, congregations, and as an association, and the affirmations we make in our relationships with one another--these all speak to a commitment to justice and making change, with real hope and passion.    PASS

This post is only a starting point--but this was a February project--the month is nearly over.  I welcome questions and suggestions, knowing our truths are forever unfolding.





*You can find the full Adams essay, "Guiding Principles for a Free Faith" in the collection On Being Human Religiously. It's a dense but interesting collection. You can preview the essay here. (By the way--that Five Smooth Stones allusion was chosen by his editor. Please don't cast stones at me or James.)

**Yes, I still think Justice League of America when I see this acronym.

Getting Ahead of Ourselves

We passed a milestone today, sooner than expected.

Firstborn got his first recruiting packet from a college.

It shouldn't be a surprise--he took the PSAT this fall, just as practice, but it was a debut of sorts.

He's fifteen. Plenty of time to consider. 

Creating Geodes*

I'm big on "things in things" - filled cookies, Jucy Lucys, and my favorite, baked Brie.

Part of it is the combination of textures, but I also just love that moment of surprise--going beyond expectations.

"Oh look. A brown bread thing." 


Then the moment of reveal--mmmm, delicious cheese and fillings!

Last night at the rally (also known as a "con" or a lock-in), our youth played a common getting-to-know-one-another game - Two Truths and a Lie. Basically, each person shares three things about themselves, and the rest of the group tries to identify which thing is not true.

Sometimes there's an obvious tell--the person giggles or looks away. Or maybe others in the group know the person well enough to say which two things were true. But often, there are surprises. The person who says they can play the piano, ate a bowl of crickets, and climbed K2? Well, they were lying about the piano.

Each of us includes so many surprises, just waiting to be discovered.


*Yes, I know. A geode is different, if we're talking geology. But I hope you get what I'm saying. And please, don't whack me with a hammer to see what's inside.

Staying Awake Until Austin Gets Here

Youth (and their beloved chaperones) are coming from around the district to spend the weekend at a rally, the local term for a lock-in. 

I am not hosting this year, just helping with a bit of the logistics. I can go home whenever I want.

But I'm holding out another fifteen mintues or so, because we're told the group from Austin will be here soon. Among them, my goddaughter, whom I haven't seen since November.

Connection is important.

Not a Priority

Seen the Nationwide Insurance ad about "when you're not treated like a priority" or some such?

The "low priority" customers are portrayed by children.

I think I gasped out loud, amazed that they were so very blunt. 

As a parent and an educator, I've spent the majority of my adult life working with children. And yes, in US culture, children are often seen as a low priority. They're short, can't vote, and don't have their own credit cards.

Thank goodness they're loud and adorable, or they might be overlooked entirely.

Easing Back Into Grooves...

My sons have been off school for two weeks now, and the week before had half-days and an open campus during exams.

To put it mildly, they are very off their usual schedules. They sure have excelled at video game conquests, though.

Tomorrow we're back at church, and Tuesday is back to school.

Getting back to reality might take every moment we have between now and then.
(Step one: get them to clean out their backpacks. This probably should have happened BEFORE Christmas...)

Tonight

I'm at a lock-in with church youth who are planning an upcoming event.

So many things are not pictured here. Or quoted. Because minors and boundaries.

Trust me, though--it's hilarious.

"I Can't Breathe"

My sons are asthmatic. I know too well the cough, the wheezing. The panicky look in their eyes when they can't get enough air. 

Eric Garner was also an asthmatic--while I know little of his health history, I can imagine his mother Gwen Carr taking him to the pediatrician, the specialists, the ER, with shots and meds and puffers. Worried that every little bug is going to turn into bronchitis or pneumonia. More treatments, scary nights, missed school, missed work... 

But she raised him up. He became an adult, got a job, started a family--six beautiful grandchildren.

Then that horrible day in July. Gwen Carr's son was put in a chokehold by someone claiming to serve and protect. He gasped that he could not breathe... and medical personnel nearby did not help.

There was video. Hauntingly hard to watch. But surely, the whole world would know what had happened, and while her child could not be returned to her, there would be some measure of justice.

And now in this Advent week of hope? The grand jury decided not to indict Daniel Pantaleo, the officer who put this mother's son in a chokehold. Even though there was video of the event. Even though the medical examiner had declared the death a homicide.

Yes, I am taking this personally. A woman's son has been stolen from her, and we are told it is not a crime.

Justice feels very far away.

Wild Party Night

My sons and I are staying in this evening.

Firstborn's plan? "Play video games until my eyes bleed."

Secondborn's? "I'm going to become one with the couch."

Ayup.

Observations from Open House

Tonight was open house at the high school. I can now report that:

*According to my Fitbit, secondborn's schedule requires at least 5000 steps just to get from class to class. PE class is definitely more, as is the walk to and from the bus stop.

*There are mounted TVs in each classroom, eternally playing a slide show of important messages. Distraction, much?

*One of the teachers graduated from the same school eight years ago. That  means he's about the same age I was during my own time in public education.

*The fundamentals of engineering classroom has a 3-D printer.

*One teacher was a college football player. Another was a college tennis player, ranked in her home country.

*"Interactive notebooks" are a big thing right now. By which I mean paper notebooks where everyone has the same things on the same pages.

*The kids' school obviously does not have a 'natural hair color' policy. We saw examples from all over the visible spectrum.

*Firstborn's English classroom library includes a 'parent approval required' section. 

And of course, this leads back to the eternal wondering every time I drive up to that building--HOW is it possible that I'm already the parent of high school students? Running into acquaintances who are parenting seniors doesn't help.

You Can't Micromanage The Snow Cone Guy

Today was Homecoming Sunday, the official start to a new church year. It's a big deal and among my program responsibilities is renting a snow cone machine for the picnic after the worship service.

Lessons I've learned-

• Rental comes with 100 pounds of loose ice in a big cooler. No, you cannot rent the machine without the ice, and they want to give you all that ice, even if you only need thirty or forty pounds of it. (Maybe there's a critical mass to keeping things cold enough in this semi-tropical Houston weather?)  We scatter the extra on the grounds, hoping the water trickles to our trees.
• Rental comes with four syrups of the company's choosing. Some years there are two syrups of the same flavor. Today one of the flavors was "Turtle"...thankfully it tasted more like green apple than anything involving my pet turtle.
• There's a delivery window, but chances are the machine will come a little before or after the window. Schedule it early enough that fifteen minutes after that window isn't too late. And have plenty of busy work to occupy yourself at 7 AM. Muttering darkly about 7 AM is not especially productive.
• Eighth graders love to operate the machine, and ninth graders love to teach the eighth graders how it is done. 
• You can sort of make snowballs out of snow cone ice.  They hurt more, though.
• Eat enough snow cone and your mouth will freeze and you won't care quite so much that it's still too hot outside.
• Filling a mug with snow cone ice and covering it with cold brew coffee?  Awww yeah.

How Old?

Thirty-some years ago I would go to the roller rink run by this sweet little old man. He truly was sweet, and he truly was little--everyone knew him as Shorty. And old? I assure you, my eight-year old self saw him as the very picture of decrepitude.

Shorty died this week, and my sister sent me his obituary.  I was surprised he had lived so long, ancient as he...wait--he died at only 87?

So when we knew him, he was in his mid-50s. Huh.

These days that hardly seems old at all.
And yet I was seventeen just a few days ago, right?

Lessons From A Start-Up

It's hard to be cheerful about most anything at 6:30 AM.

As I prepare for the new church year my sons have been starting their first year of high school.

Here are a few lessons from their first seven days:

1) Change can be exhausting-take naps when you can.
2) Try to stay on top of the paperwork, even when it seems painfully repetitive.
3) Trust your instincts--if things seem wrong, investigate.
4) Ask for the help you need. Know that sometimes it takes a few false starts to figure out where the help might come from.
5) Take comfort in the familiar.
6) Break in your new shoes on an off day.
7) Last year's pencil bag may not be shiny and new, but it still works and a sweet girl doodled on it.
8) You can't control the schedule. Be flexible, and take a book.

Shaggy-headed Descendants

When children are little, you get ready for the school year with a certain to-do list. Clothes, shoes, backpack, haircuts, school supplies...

On Monday my sons will start high school. Chances are, they'll be out the door before I'm awake--the cute 'First Day of School' photo hasn't happened in a while now.

Over the summer we hit the thrift stores--they picked out their own clothes, the most boring t-shirts and polos they could find, khaki shorts... a uniform of their own choosing. I was just there as the ride and the keeper of the credit card.

Dad took them for shoes, a no-big-whoop event.

They chose their own courses and pathways--one applied to a tough program as if it were no big deal. Huh.

At the Back to School Bash, they orbited the tables of endless clubs and activities, considering options my fourteen-year old self had never heard of. Their fees this year include a $25 insurance payment for district-issued laptops.

They've decided it is not yet time for haircuts. I know better than to make that a battle, and hey, one less errand.

Opportunities For Bonding

Night two of the beach trip with the church youth group, and it was time for their worship service on the beach.

For the first time in years, we're not under a burn ban, so the chance for a fire is pretty exciting. One of the families brought a big bag of dry mesquite, another provided a giant metal bowl to contain the fire. Two of us stored up our dryer lint for tinder.

And then we couldn't get the fire to start.

The books of matches were damp in the ocean humidity and the wind was blowing out what little action we could get from the lighter we found.

A rotating group of six or seven or twelve of us were making wind shelters, finding other tinder, and blowing gently on the bits we could get to flame.

At one point we had a hoodie and a towel over our heads, a pizza box wind shelter and our bodies protecting the fire pit. Everyone covered in a fine patina of sand.

Tinder tried included paper bags, pizza box, tortilla chips, coffee filters, hand sanitizer, alcohol pads, and shelf fungus.

It was nearly dark out when we started, and soon we were depending on phones and a single book light to illuminate our efforts.The worship team started thinking about an alternative focal point-you can make a fair amount of magic with glowsticks, right?

And then my partner walked over to the next beach house and asked to borrow their lighter fluid. A little squirt on one of those coffee filters, and soon enough, we had our fire.

The wood was dry indeed, and burned merrily. 

By the time the worship service was over, it was a wonderful mix of coals and flame, perfect for s'mores production.

Expect Interruptions in Content

Ministry means many things.

This weekend it means that I'll be sharing a beach house with nineteen high school youth and a few chaperones.  Blogging may well be limited to pictures of sand and gulls on the deck. Or maybe a glowstick chalice? 

If we get too carried away in our fun, writing may be ignored completely. (Or perhaps the wi-fi is substandard.)

All will be well.

The Allure of Lloyd Dobler

Say Anything (1989) came out while I was in high school. Half of my friends had it on VHS and we would watch it at every sleepover*.

We all would drool and sigh for Lloyd Dobler, possibly the most decent and vulnerable male character any of us had ever encountered. He just...cared so much! He was willing to follow his girlfriend across the ocean in a loving show of support. 

Lloyd was counter-cultural in any number of ways--a seeming lack of ambition, a reluctance to buy in to the capitalist dream. He was a sweet rebel, though. A contrast to Christian Slater characters of the time - the homicidal anti-hero of 1988's Heathers and the radio pirate of 1990's Pump Up the Volume.

At the start of the film, Lloyd is asked how he convinced the gorgeous valedictorian to come to a party. He says he just called and asked. His questioner smiles, "This is great. This gives me hope. Thanks."

Lloyd Dobler gave us hope as well. That we would be loved, supported, and have partners who really wanted to talk with us and share feelings along with the hormones. 

*Also in the rotation?  Top Gun, The Princess Bride, and in one departure from the norm, Fatal Attraction.  Yikes!