Category Archives: faith

October 31, 2013 · 11:54 AM

On Loving My Christian Neighbors

You know what really bugs me?

(This is where my husband would offer, “LOTS of things?” and I would roll my eyes and clarify, “Okay, you know what is really bugging me today?”)

Today, it is really bugging me that so many people choose to pour their time and energy into passing judgment on others’ lifestyles and – this is the part that bugs me – cloaking it as concern for their poor Christian souls.

I love God. Let me start there. With all my “heart, soul, and mind”. That’s Matthew 22:38, for those of you who like these things accompanied by scriptures. You know what comes right after it? “Love your neighbor as yourself.” And that’s where I, and I’d imagine lots of other Christians, often stumble. Sometimes it’s just damn hard work to love your neighbor. I mean, it’s easy to love nice people. And people of other faiths? Muslim neighbors and atheist neighbors and Jewish neighbors? No problem there either. People of different sexual orientations? Gay neighbors and straight neighbors and bisexual neighbors? Done.

But good grief. Loving my fellow Christian can be difficult.

I’m not your “typical” Christian, if there is such a thing. I don’t fit neatly into a box, and I get that. And non-box-fitting Christians often make other Christians … nervous. I get that too. Here’s what I don’t get. Why on earth would the way I choose to live out my faith bother you? To the point that you feel such an irrepressible urge to actually WARN me:

You should be careful with yoga. You’re opening yourself up to the occult.

Tattoos (or piercings, or any other form of personal expression that you find distasteful) are defiling God’s temple.

Any so-called Christian who lets their children play first-person shooter games is not a true Christian. Period.

As a Christian, I can’t believe you’d ignore the biblical instruction for corporal punishment.

Celebrating Halloween is honoring evil.

And overheard just this morning, again in reference to Halloween:

“Sugar-sprinkled poison is still poison.”

I could certainly go on, but those are the ones I hear most frequently, and with the most fervor. What it boils down to is a good, old-fashioned, “Shame on you, you bad bad Christian! You’re getting it all WRONG, and it’s my job to tell you.” It’s exhausting and irritating. And, like I said, not too helpful in my genuine quest to love all the Christians.

The thing you need to know is that my faith is strong. My mind can be changed about many many things, but not that. I am confident in my relationship with God, and I am confident that He loves me exactly as He created me. So while your genuine concern for my soul is touching – if it is in fact genuine – your efforts to change me in some way are really only serving to annoy me (and also to add fuel to the “Christians are just judgmental a@@holes” fire. So well played)

If your choices are not harmful to others, I will support your right to have them like crazy. Don’t want to celebrate Halloween? Cool with me. Don’t want to do yoga? Super. Don’t like certain video games? By all means, don’t buy them. Rather die than get a tattoo or a piercing? Your choice to make.

All I ask is that you extend me the same courtesy.

I’ll respect the message sent by your dark porch on Halloween. I won’t show up at your door with my zombie child, I promise. I won’t force you to do yoga. I won’t even make you look at my tattoos. I’ll just… love you. From afar, if that’s what you prefer.

Because here’s what I’m thinking. If, as Christians, our job is to get out into the world and spread God’s love, and we can’t even act in a loving way towards each other? Something’s not right. Pointing fingers and splitting hairs and damning people to hell over everything they’re getting “wrong” does no good for anyone. And let’s be honest, none of us are getting it 100% right anyway. We’re human. Gloriously flawed, imperfect, constantly growing and learning and involving humans.

And MY flaws and imperfections (and/or those things you perceive as my flaws and imperfections)? They won’t hurt you. Really. You’re okay. I’m okay. My choices are between me and God. He’s got this. He’s always got this.

No outside help required.

4 Comments

Filed under about me, acceptance, faith, God, hot topics, rant

August 19, 2013 · 6:00 AM

Asked and Answered

I recently put out a call for questions. Questions about unschooling, parenting, me, my blog, whatever you’d like … and you guys rose to the occasion! Here’s the first batch of questions and answers, and the first of what I hope will become a regular feature on my blog. If you have questions, send em, and I’ll answer them in an upcoming post. 🙂

I would love to hear some thoughts on how far to push little kids to do things? I know it would be age dependent, but I’m thinking ages 1-5 especially. Eg if a child is shy or scared or anti-social or clingy or negative about doing something where’s the line with making them do it, or respecting their feelings. Sometimes in life it’s good to do things we don’t want to. How do we help kids understand that?

I think this is one of those times that really knowing your kids is key. I personally wouldn’t push my kids into doing something they didn’t want do… but there is a world of difference between forcing something that’s unwanted, and gently encouraging when you know it’s something that they do want, but are hesitant because they are nervous, unsure, etc. Last summer, my daughter (four years old at the time) took her first-ever swimming class. She was very excited about the class, and about learning to swim. The morning of the first class however, she was super nervous, to the point of asking if she could skip it. I know my daughter, and I was 99% sure that once she got in the class she would really enjoy it. I was also 99% sure that if she didn’t do the class that she would regret it, especially when she watched her big brother having fun in the pool in his own class. So I was honest with her and told her, “I know you’re nervous, but I think you’re really go to love it. And you can do it! I bet they’re going to make it super fun for you, and I’ll be right there watching the whole time. Why don’t you give it a try this one time, and if you don’t like it, you don’t have to come back.” I wasn’t bluffing either: I would have had no problem pulling her out, and letting her learn in another way. She agreed to try it, and to make a long story short, she LOVED the class, and has since become a fish in the water.

Yes, sometimes we need to do things we don’t want to do, but life provides plenty of those opportunities all on its own. I don’t think it’s my job as a mother to actually provide the things they don’t want to do, but to help them feel safe, comfortable, and confident when they do arise. Going to the dentist for instance isn’t super high on any of my kids’ “Things I love to do” lists, but sometimes it’s necessary. So we searched until we found a wonderfully kind, patient, and respectful pediatric dentist, and no one has any issues seeing her when the time comes.

I don’t have a school age child yet, but am very interested in unschooling. I have been wondering if you felt you did anything differently with your children before they were school age. I’m reading a lot about the RIE philosophy and some of it seems to be in line with the basic idea of trust that seems inherent in unschooling to me. Thank you!

I learned something new when I got this question, so thanks! 🙂 I hadn’t heard of RIE, so I Googled a little bit. (This article had a nice breakdown of its main tenets.) I connect with a lot – not all – of the principles of RIE. I think that the ideas of trust, respect, choices, and personal autonomy are so important to both unschooling and gentle parenting. As for whether or not I did anything different when the kids were young… only to the extent that our relationships/activities/conversations grew and evolved as the kids got older. For me, unschooling was just a natural extension of attachment parenting, and it was all so organic that I never really had a feeling of, “Okay, we’re going to start unschooling now.” We already were… they just weren’t officially school age yet. I do strongly feel (and many others feel this way as well) that unschooling can’t be truly understood and implemented until the parenting component is understood. Once you “get” gentle parenting, unschooling just makes sense… and it’s a much more seamless transition than if you try to do it the other way around.

What advice would you give an unschooling mom whose 5 yr old is begging to start kindergarten?

Ask lots of questions! What is it that they’re wanting from school that they don’t think they’ll get/are getting from home? Is it more time on crafts? Riding a school bus? Being around other kids? Recess? It could be something really simple, especially at five years old. Most of my kids have at one time or another asked about school. After a conversation, careful listening, and honest sharing, I learned that it wasn’t school they were after, but something else. Something that I could remedy through more playdates, more field trips, more one on one time, etc. If that were ever not the case, and they truly wanted to go to school, I’d like to think that I would be 100% supportive and let them try it. I can’t say with complete certainty though, because I’ve never been there (and if I’ve learned nothing else as a parent, it’s to never say “never”)

(on being a Christian who does not regularly go to church) I’m wondering how you keep the faith? How do you keep your relationship with God fresh and alive? Have you found a community, a “body of Christ”?

I love this question. I have been thinking for a long time about writing a permanent page for my blog about my faith, and about where that journey has taken me. I will say first that my faith has always been super personal to me. Not personal in an I-don’t-want-to-talk-about it kind of way (I love talking about it), but personal in that I’ve never really felt like I needed a strictly “Christian” environment in order to nurture my relationship with God. In fact: I grew up going to church, went to a Christian summer camp, went to a Christian college… and those were all things that I had to heal from in many ways as an adult. I felt like my faith was so much stronger, and finally my OWN, after I left those environments. We do have a church “home” now, although it’s been many months since we’ve gone with regularity. We love the church though, and it was the first one that we ever actually chose to place membership with since we’ve been married. When we feel like it’s something we’re needing, we go, but on a day-to-day basis, I don’t know… I feel like it’s just me and God, and that relationship is no different than any other in that it stays alive with attention, with intention, and with spending time together (and you don’t have to be in a special building to do that :))

One thing that’s been hugely instrumental to me in the past several years has been finding like-minded fellow “outside the box” Christians, most of whom I only know online. While I don’t feel like I technically need the support of others to hold up my own faith, it’s incredibly helpful just to know that they’re out there: other people like me who fiercely love Jesus, but pretty steadfastly reject most of what conventional “religion” has to offer… Everyone from big authors/bloggers like John Shore, to dear personal friends that I’ve made through various online FB groups and forums…they’re a very appreciated breath of fresh air (and sometimes just straight-up oxygen), especially on those days when I’m feeling alone.

So our kid is 3 and we are starting to get questions about Kindergarten. I am scared to death to tell some people what we are planning!!! It does not help that I work FT and my husband stays at home with our son, which already gets enough looks as it is because it is so different. I am just scared in a year or two we’ll get people calling CPS on us or something. Some of our family is very academically minded and I am just afraid they will think we are setting our son up for failure or something. I’m just not good at confrontation. I know all the answers ‘in my heart’ but I know when accosted about it… I just don’t know quite how to deal with it. How do you deal with that type of thing, esp when you first kid ‘missed the bus’ (haha) for the first time.

I completely know how you’re feeling! I was there myself several years ago. I was fairly lucky in that even though many of the people in my immediate family were not particularly supportive of unschooling, they kept pretty quiet about it (save for a passive aggressive comment here and there). One of the most helpful pieces of advice I ever read on the subject was something called the “bean dip” approach, a completely non-confrontational way to deal with naysayers. I wish I knew where I read it, and who said it, so I could give credit, but all I remember is that I read it on some unschooling forums many years ago. It goes like this:

Family member: (Negative/derogatory/judging comment)

Response: “Oh, he’s doing great! Can you please pass the bean dip?”

“This is working really well for our family right now. Can you please pass the bean dip?”

“That’s an interesting perspective. Can you please pass the bean dip?”

Politely changing the subject can work wonders. Honestly though, the biggest solution to this problem is just time. Two really big things happen over time:

1. Your kids learn and grow and mature in ways that can’t help but be seen, even by those outside your family. They’ll see how much they’re learning, and they’ll have tangible “proof” of unschooling’s success. And

2. You’ll gain confidence in your kids, and confidence in the process. It won’t be so scary when others disagree, because you’ll trust unschooling, you’ll trust your children, and you’ll trust their learning process. In the meantime, focus on your own little family, and be ready to pass the bean dip. 🙂

I read that you almost went to the Rethinking Everything conference and I’d be interested to read a post/answer on conferences you’ve went to in the past and how you think they benefited you and your kids.

I really love unschooling conferences. I find them sort of terrifying, just because… well, introverts and large crowds… but I love them too. We’ve only been to a handful so far, but definitely plan to attend more in the future. We’ve gone to three of the big conferences (two in San Diego, and one in Alburquerque), and a few smaller ones. Conferences are really cool for lots of reasons, but if I were pressed to name only a few, they would be:

1. New information. You can’t go to an unschooling conference and not learn something new. You can’t. I don’t care who you are, or how long you’ve been unschooling. We’ve all learned so, so much from the conferences we’ve gone to… both from the official scheduled “talks”, and incidental interactions we had along the way.

2. New friends. Some of my nearest and dearest friends are people I met at conferences. The 12 year old is playing an online game with a conference friend as I write. And there’s something big to be said just for being around other people who “get it”, even if it’s only for a weekend. Which brings me to:

3. New inspiration. In case you didn’t get this from reading other posts on my blog, I am hugely passionate about unschooling. But while my normal mode of sharing may be quietly standing on a street corner (or typing in my pajamas that I’ve been wearing for two days, sitting on my couch as it were) saying, “Yay! Unschooling!”, immediately following a conference it’s more like standing on the rooftops shouting,

“WOOO HOOOOOOO!!!! UNSCHOOLING!!!!!!!”

They just get you pumped up, and fired up, and EXCITED about unschooling.

All of that to say, if you ever get the opportunity (and you should make the opportunity) go! You will love it.

Sounds silly but what pets do you guys have now? I miss your funny animal posts!

My husband and I disagree on exactly two things: politics and pets. If it were solely up to me, we would have to build a second house to hold all the cats/dogs/rabbits/rats/reptiles we’d acquire because I so love animals, and can never resist a rescue-able furry (or scaly) face when I see one. If it were up to Mike, we would have zero pets. Ever. Rescued from anywhere. So we compromise. Right now, we have just a few pets – although the kids and I are holding out hope for a turtle in the near future.

There’s Sophie, who with the exception of jumping, and sometimes peeing, when she gets too excited, is the world’s most perfect dog.

Then there’s Linny and Ming-Ming, the two mice I picked up with the kids one day when Mike was at work:

And finally, our ball python Waldo, who is sweet and funny, and loves to hang upside-down from his branch:

And that’s it! We have about 1900 square feet of house here. Clearly there’s room for so very many more….

Thanks to everyone who have sent questions so far! That was fun.

4 Comments

Filed under about me, faith, parenting, pets, Q and A, unschooling

April 17, 2013 · 7:39 AM

How Would Jesus Parent?

Before I had kids, I never thought about what kind of parent I would be. It seems almost inconceivable to me now, given what a defining role that motherhood would come to play in my life, but it’s true. It simply never entered my mind. Until the very moment my first son was born, I remained embarrassingly, and happily, ignorant.

As it turns out, my lack of preparedness didn’t hurt me. When it came to parenting, I quickly realized that it wasn’t something I could really plan out anyway.

…..

Jump on over to the Faithful Parenting series to read the rest.

I Am Not a Christian

We have a ball python named Waldo. We named him Waldo for the late great Ralph Waldo Emerson (and also because people seemed to find the idea of being able to lament, “Where’s Waldo??” in the event of an escape side-splittingly funny.) He’s a wonderful pet. He’s playful and friendly, and loves to slither around our laps on the couch. It’s fun to watch him eat too… striking out to catch the – already dead – mouse we dangle from the tweezers, squeezing it until it’s good and dead, and then ever so slowly and deliberately swallowing it whole.

One of the coolest things about snakes though is their ability to shed their skin. I’m fascinated by this. They outgrow their old skin, it turns white and brittle and loose, and here is this new skin: beautiful, bright, and vibrant, ready to take its place. Ideally, the old skin comes off in one long complete piece… so intact that you can clearly see where the eyes once resided. Sometimes though, they have a bad, or an incomplete shed. The skin comes off in stages and pieces. When that happens, the retained skin can cause problems for the snake, so it’s important to have rough items like branches, bark, and rock in the cage so that the snake can rub against them to help snag and remove the remaining skin. That’s exactly what happened the last time Waldo shed. His cage was filled with pieces of skin of varying length, and we wondered if we’d have to do something to help. But he worked it out: he used the rough bark of his hiding log, and eventually it was all gone. He was fresh and new and shiny again.

I am a snake.

For the past several years, I’ve been on a journey to slowly shed my outgrown skin in many many facets of my life, but particularly in my walk as a Christian. For so many (So. Many.) years I was bound by rules and regulations and legalities, and as I grew and changed and evolved… it just didn’t fit anymore. I started to crave freedom and grace and freedom again, and I just wasn’t finding them in my old skin.

I am thankful, honestly thankful, for the painful church experiences of my past that started the process, that tore off that first big piece, the one that gave me the glimpse of the beauty that lay beneath. Just the taste, just the possibility of the freedom that was to come gave me hope. And those final bits of skin? The stubborn ones? Well those eventually came off too, thanks to the people I’ve encountered along the way; the ones who served as those rough logs, sloughing off the old meaning of the word, “Christian”, and replacing it with something new. Those people are the ones who helped me see who I am, who I’m not, and who I so desperately want to be.

If a Christian is someone who uses a Bible not as a source of strength or knowledge or information, but as a weapon, something from which to cherry-pick scriptures to clobber others, to prove a point, and to win an argument…

I am not a Christian.

If a Christian is someone who thinks he can say with any authority who is and who is not going to go to heaven; who arrogantly thinks he knows the status of someone else’s walk with God, let alone his salvation…

I am not a Christian.

If a Christian is someone who disparages others just because they happen to be a Democrat or a liberal or someone who voted “the wrong way” in the last election…

I am not a Christian.

If a Christian is someone who doesn’t let another Christian into their group or club or school because they’re the wrong kind of Christian, or because their beliefs or interpretations of God and the Bible may differ from their own…

I am not a Christian.

If a Christian is someone who stands as judge and jury of someone else’s lifestyle; someone who finds it appropriate to go onto someone else’s Facebook page and just tell her, point-blank: “You are not a true Christian if you XYZ”…

I am not a Christian.

And riiiiiiiiip, there it goes, the very last little thready bits of skin. Except it doesn’t hurt. It feels good. It feels freeing.

That skin didn’t fit. And it hadn’t fit for so long.

I have no anger towards those people either. No bitterness. Only gratitude. And I’ll fully admit that that wasn’t always the case. I have one faithful friend who can attest to the number of, “Have I mentioned lately how much Christians annoy me?” texts I’ve sent her over the past year. It’s only now that I can see them for what they were… just people on their own journey, people who may or may not have skin to shed of their own. How they’re living out their own personal walk is none of my business, and likewise:

No one else but me gets to decide my path for ME.

I’m free.

Does that freedom then mean that I just live my life all willy-nilly, devil-may-care, any old way, and if God doesn’t like it that’s just too damn bad? Of course not. On the contrary, as someone who does truly love God, I am always learning, always growing, always examining, always questioning. Christianity is actually a lot like yoga (which, ironically, is another area that’s garnered me the, “You can’t be a true Christian if you do that!” comments) in that you never know everything there is to know. You’re never finished learning. You’re never finished getting better. By all means, even though I’m a teacher I’m still relatively new to yoga. And even though I’ve been a Christian my whole life, I’m still very new to the idea of grace. Of real faith. Of freedom. For the first time in, well… ever… I can’t wait to learn more.

So am I a Christian? The only words that come are: “It just doesn’t matter.” I am me. I love God. And I’m okay with that answer.

I’m pretty sure God’s okay with it too.

33 Comments

Filed under about me, church, faith, freedom, judgement, learning, life

August 2, 2012 · 6:00 AM

Dear Chick Fil A: I Love You, But…

Chick Fil A.

You’re sick to death of hearing about it. I am too. BELIEVE ME, I am too. Two days ago, I vowed I would not weigh in. Yesterday I realized I had no choice, if for no other reason than to preserve my own sanity and get it off my chest, if not off my news feed.

I am a huge proponent of respecting other people’s right to have their own opinions, and to voice those opinions as they see fit. Let me just start there. One of the things that has bothered me about this from the start (and there are so very many things that bother me about it) is that those of us who don’t agree with Dan Cathy’s stance are getting accused of not respecting his right to free speech. Of course he has the right to speak. Is anyone actually saying he doesn’t? That’s an honest question… I’ve read so many ugly words coming from both sides that at some point I started tuning them out.

Another one I’m seeing a lot of is a graphic that says: “‘I disagree’ is not equal to ‘I hate you.'” Absolutely. Merely disagreeing, and harboring hatred are two entirely different things.

Here’s the problem…

I’m of the opinion (and remember, Dan Cathy gets to have an opinion. I get to have an opinion. We all get to have an opinion) I’m of the opinion that the Bible is not nearly as black and white on the issue of homosexuality as most of my fellow Christians would have you believe. Setting that conversation completely aside, let’s say for the sake of argument that homosexuality is wrong. There still remains the fact that the Bible is exceedingly clear on one thing. We are called to LOVE.

Of course, of course! Love the sinner, hate the sin.

No. No, no, no. Love the sinner (and we’re all sinners). Period. I believe that that “Love the sinner, hate the sin” admonishment is one of the most hurtful and damaging phrases ever to be uttered. If we’re actively hating something about someone else, we believe they should change. We’re making our love conditional, and half-hearted at best. In essence we’re saying, “I love you, but…” Can any good come after that ‘but’? To truly and completely love, we just have to LOVE. With no strings, and no conditions. Think homosexuality is a sin? So is pride. So is arrogance. So is gossip. So is judgement.

Love anyway.

Chick Fil A donates money – millions of dollars worth of money – to organizations whose whole reason for existence is to fight against, and ostracize, gay individuals… including groups that link homosexuality to pedophilia, groups that feel homosexuality should be outlawed, groups that think homosexuals should be exported from our country, and groups that believe homosexuality is something that can be “prayed away.” One of these groups is the Family Research Council, which has been designated a hate group by the Southern Poverty Law Center. I ask you, implore you, in all sincerity …. if you were homosexual, or your child or your best friend or your brother were homosexual, would any of the above groups (or the organizations such as Chick Fil A that support them) make you feel particularly loved?

I’ll be honest: I’ve never eaten at Chick Fil A, mainly because I just don’t eat that kind of food. And I’m certainly not going to start now, not because I simply disagree (I want to be really clear about that) but because just as it’s their right to financially support blatantly anti-gay organizations, it’s my right not to. And yes, I’m aware that I’m likely supporting other such organizations without even knowing about it…. but when you know better, you do better. I want my dollars to support groups that promote love, not more division.

I have seen so much righteous indignation, name-calling, and judgment from both sides of the issue. I’ve seen well-meaning Christians proudly boasting about their support of a company that they may or may not realize gives money to a known hate group; and I’ve seen detractors casually throwing out words like bigots, and homophobes, and haters.

I’ve seen people telling Dan Cathy in no uncertain terms where to go and how to get there. And that’s clearly not the answer here either.

These are real people … people with failings and shortcomings to be sure … but real people, who are so much more than a cause or a principle or a religious or political crusade. And as I’ve thought about it, and pulled it apart, and boiled it down, I’ve realized that my responsibility here is no more and no less than to love. Simply. Fully. Unconditionally.

And man, it’s simple in premise but not always easy in practice. It’s hard to love people sometimes. Sadly, ~~often~~ sometimes, my fellow Christians are the hardest of all. But I honestly do want to love like Jesus loved. I don’t ever want to fall back on “loving the sinner and hating the sin.” I don’t want to put conditions on my love. I don’t want to be a hypocrite. So I will say to Dan Cathy and to others who support groups that aim to oppress, disparage, and ostracize others, “I love you”.

And then I’ll just stop talking.

68 Comments

Filed under acceptance, bible, faith, hot topics, hypocrisy, kindness, life, perspective, rant, respect

June 12, 2012 · 8:52 AM

Jesus Was an Unschooler

Sometimes the objections are loud and brazen: “Unschooling as a Christian is a SIN!” Sometimes they are cautious and confused, a quietly whispered, “Isn’t that… you know… unbiblical?”

Either way, they both stem from the same place: Fear. Fear and a basic misunderstanding of what the Bible does and does not have to say about education. The fact is, the Bible has lots to say about how we should conduct ourselves our Christians, lots to say about how we treat others….. and not so much to say about how we learn the three R’s.

And when we do look to the Bible for those answers? Like most answers, we need not look further than Jesus himself. And while he of course never had children of his own …

Jesus was an unschooler…

[Hop over to Christian Unschooling to read the rest]

1 Comment

Filed under christian unschooling, faith, misconceptions, unschooling

January 15, 2012 · 11:36 AM

Unschooling, Christianity, and Other Misconceptions

I don’t pay too much attention to anti-unschooling articles. For one thing, unschoolers make up a small percentage of homeschoolers, which are already just a tiny (but growing) fraction of the general population. It’s not for everyone. It’s not for most people. I get that. It’s also difficult for a lot of people to understand, and people tend to fear or mock what they don’t understand.

I’m happy with my decision to unschool. I’m confident in my decision to unschool. I don’t read a lot of negatively slanted unschooling pieces because I don’t want to give it my energy…. energy that could be much better spent making my life – and that of my kids – full and fun and interesting and happy.

Every now and then though, one slides under my radar. One that’s so full of both its own self-importance and myriads of misconceptions that it nearly begs me to ignore it. I wrestle with indecision. “I really shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. Oh… but I’m gonna.”

I don’t like it when people who don’t understand unschooling try to tell others why they shouldn’t unschool. And I really don’t like it when people who don’t understand unschooling specifically tell Christians that they shouldn’t unschool. Understand it FIRST, and then write about it.

I could sit here and talk to some experts and write an article about, say, the wrong way to reconcile a 941. Don’t know what that is? Oh don’t worry. I’ll explain it to you, in broad strokes and with sweeping generalizations. But until I understand it (beyond the fact that it has something to do with quarterly taxes) I will be first one to tell you that I’m not in a position to be advising on its procedure. I will send you right to my husband who will tell you everything you need to know, without disparaging anyone in the process.

And so it is with unschooling. It’s one thing to say, “You know what? I’ve done the research, and unschooling isn’t for me. This is why.” It’s another thing entirely to warn of unschooling’s dangers when you haven’t yet grasped what unschooling means.

This article, written by Grace Howard, starts out by telling us how us Christian parents should be “concerned” by unschooling. (Emphasis is mine)

But unschooling’s philosophy of education differs substantially from traditional homeschooling, and should pose some concerns for Christian parents.

Now, I’m not a fan of being told what to do as it is. But being told what to feel? What to be concerned about? All parents, Christian and otherwise, will have concerns. Absolutely. I’m concerned about hate. I’m concerned about prejudice. I am NOT concerned about when or why or how little Suzy learns long division. Unschooling is not concerning.

Unschooling is a “radical” version of homeschooling; it gives children complete control over their subjects, schedule, and interests. If children do not want to learn science, they do not have to. If they enjoy art, literature, or computer programming, they can spend all their time pursuing that subject

If you are new to the idea of unschooling, please do not give this definition any weight. Unschooling does not “give children complete control over their subjects, schedule, and interests.” To understand unschooling is to recognize that life is not divided into subjects in the first place. And having control over their own interests? Who else but you should have control over your own interests?? Children who “do not want to learn science” or math or history or whatever the case may be, are children who have learned – most likely through school – that learning is a chore. That learning is something that is forced upon us, rather than something that organically happens inside each one of us. That something that is momentarily hard or uninteresting or not useful is something to be feared and avoided. But it doesn’t work that way for unschoolers. Unschoolers know that learning is everywhere. Unschoolers know that they can (and will) learn science as easily and naturally as anything else. Science, math, history, social studies… they’re all intertwined, and they’re all around us. Unschoolers know that they learn everything they need to know, when they need to know it, as it makes sense for them in the life that’s unfolding around them.

In the most radical forms of unschooling, this freedom permeates children’s entire life: they control their bedtimes, meals, and chores

That’s fair enough I guess, for a rudimentary definition, in terms of the way most people view radical unschooling. My children don’t have parent-imposed bedtimes… but they get plenty of sleep, are well-attuned to their own bodies, and know when they need to rest. My children are not required to follow a parent-imposed schedule of meals… but they are healthy and strong, have a good relationship with food, and eat a cleaner and more varied diet than just about any other kids I know. My children do not have sticker charts or compulsory chores they must attend to every day… but they all pitch in as much as the next whenever they are asked, with everything from dishes to laundry to taking out the trash, because we’re a family and we all work together.

Christian unschoolers try to meld the limit-free teaching methods of unschooling with structured biblical parenting.

They do? This is the part that makes lots of people all kinds of uneasy, but… biblical parenting is not all that “structured.” It’s just not. Biblical parenting is about raising children in love. Raising children in a way that demonstrates both your love and God’s love… love for them, and love for each other. It’s about treating children how you’d like to be treated, and about behaving in the same truthful, authentic, honest and kind manner that you would want to pass down to the next generation. And yes, it’s about freedom. It is NOT about control, harsh discipline, and being in bed by 7:00 PM.

Elissa Wahl, co-author of Christian Unschooling: Growing Your Children in the Freedom of Christ, writes on her site, Christian-Unschooling.blogspot.com, that “Unschooling in my house is not unparenting….Although I am pretty radical in my educational beliefs, they do not carry over to letting the children do whatever they want, whenever, with no consequences. That would be unbiblical.”

That quote makes me sad. I have read that book (I think it’s even on my bookshelf somewhere) and I enjoyed it. I am absolutely certain that Ms Wahl is a lovely person, and has no doubt done good things for the unschooling community. But when even “experts” in the unschooling community are perpetuating these misconceptions, is it any wonder that people are so confused? Radical unschooling, whether Christian or otherwise, does not mean “letting the children do whatever they want, whenever, with no consequences.” It’s just not a fair definition, nor is it accurate, nor is it kind. It lends itself to the supposition that unschooled children are ignored, that they are just wildly flinging about the house, with nary a parent in sight. Unschooling parents work with their children…. as partners, facilitators, and friends. At its heart, unschooling is about respect. Respect for the children, yes, but also respect for yourselves as parents. Respect for the family. Respect for the process of living and learning together in freedom. It is not unbiblical. You can read my series on Christian Unschooling for more.

Combining unschooling and biblical understanding of child raising is hard, though, because unschooling grew out of the work of author John Holt, an atheist who argued that parents who exercise discipline “probably destroy as many good qualities as we develop, do at least as much harm as good.”

The more my “biblical understanding of child raising” has increased, so has my realization that it is VERY much aligned with unschooling, not opposed to it. As for John Holt… I have been reading his books for over 15 years now, and I didn’t even know that he was an atheist until I read the above quote a week ago. So to say that it’s hard to combine biblical parenting with his teachings on unschooling – simply because he’s an atheist – is unfair. And interestingly, the Holt quote from above, cited as a reason NOT to unschool as a Christian sounds an awful like a verse from the Bible itself: “Parents, don’t come down too hard on your children or you’ll crush their spirits.” (Colossians 3:21, The Message)

Author and Patrick Henry College provost Gene Edward Veith, a proponent of classical liberal arts education, fears that unschooling’s narrow scope could make a person “very narrow and brittle….The beauty of a liberal arts education is that [students] try a bunch of different things, and see what they’re good at. In the course of that, they find what they most want to focus on, but they still have a foundation and basic understanding of a lot of different things.”

A “narrow scope”? I almost couldn’t respond to this because I was laughing so hard. A “narrow scope” would serve as an excellent antithesis for unschooling. Unschoolers have the entire world as their “classroom!” Unschoolers are living and breathing and experiencing life OUTSIDE of the narrow scope that is compulsory schooling. As for trying a bunch of different things to see what they’re good at… my youngest son, at 7, has already tried a countless number of things that I wasn’t even exposed to until high school (or ever), despite the wonder and the beauty of my liberal arts education.

Veith believes that unschooling follows Rousseau’s philosophy of a naturally innocent and good child. Rousseau never advocated the unschooling method: He believed in removing children from their parents and placing them in the care of a tutor. But Veith says that both Rousseau and Holt defined freedom as meaning, “I’ll do whatever I want.” Veith says, “That’s not Christian freedom, that’s license and slavery. A child who is following his own impulses is not free. He’s a slave to those impulses. Freedom comes from teaching [children] “to develop self-control, self-discipline, to develop their mind and their conscience….That’s real freedom.”

Whew. Let me first say that I believe wholeheartedly in freedom. If you take nothing else from my blog, please take that. I believe in freedom. Freedom for myself, and freedom for my kids. Freedom, by most any definition, is something to aspire to for sure:

FREEDOM: The quality or state of being free, as in: a: the absence of necessity, coercion, or constraint in choice or action b:liberation from slavery or restraint or from the power of another :independencec: the quality or state of being exempt or released usually from something onerous <freedom from care> d:ease, facility <spoke the language with freedom> e: the quality of being frank, open, or outspoken <answered with freedom> f: improper familiarity g: boldness of conception or execution h: unrestricted use <gave him the freedom of their home>

If you’re going to define “freedom” using the slightly negative sounding, “I’ll do whatever I want,” then you’re likely to assume it means doing anything you want regardless of effect or consequence on yourself or on those around you. And if you’re continually making poor choices and doing things that are harmful to yourself or others, then I agree with Mr Veith. That’s not really freedom, or at least not a healthy freedom.

But to Veith, and to everyone else who is harboring this misconception:

That’s not unschooling!

Unschooling isn’t about ignoring your children while they become “slaves to their impulses”. Unschooling is about respecting your children, and nurturing their individuality, and yes, giving them the freedom to explore and learn from and experience the world in a safe and healthy way, according to their own interests and their own timetable and their own unique path in life. If I am imposing my will on my children, then I’m not giving them freedom.

I’m not teaching my children to develop self-control… but because they are loved and cared for by people who practice it, they are learning it. I’m not teaching my children self-discipline, but because they are given trust and respect, because their interests are valued and taken seriously, they are learning it. I’m not teaching my children to develop their mind and their conscience, but because they’re honored for the unique individuals that they are, because they are self-confident and feel good about themselves, because they respect themselves, respect others, and respect the process of life and learning in general… they are developing. My job as a Christian parent isn’t to mold my children, to shape them into something of my – or even God’s – choosing. He’s done that already. They were each individually and uniquely and perfectly created exactly as they were for a reason. My job is to honor that. My job is to love them, to nurture them, and to protect them. My job is ensure that they are happy, healthy, and learning, and that they have all the space and the resources and the support they need to follow their own individual paths. That is freedom.

Christianity and radical unschooling do not have to be – nor should they be – mutually exclusive, despite the morass of articles such as this one that tell us otherwise. So I’ll continue to write about it, even while recognizing that this gross misinterpretation is still so widely accepted.

It’s a shame too, because it’s a pretty great way to live.

42 Comments

Filed under christian unschooling, faith, Uncategorized, unschooling

November 25, 2011 · 12:27 PM

‘Happy Holidays’ and other four letter words

The cashier was pleasant and friendly. He joked around with the kids, and easily made small talk while he lovingly rang up our toothpaste and toilet paper. He carefully bagged our baubles and breakables, and he made sure to ask if we wanted the drinks we’d just grabbed from the cooler left out. He offered the three year old a sticker. He smiled amiably while he handed me my cash register receipt, and he told me to come again.

And then, he said it.

The thing that would cause me to roll my eyes and hurry home to write the store a scathing letter detailing exactly why I would be hereby boycotting their store forever.

He said, “Happy Holidays.”

In front of my children. How dare he say such a thing to me? How dare he try to take the Christ out of my Christmas? What is the matter with our stores, and our society, today?? I felt so offended and disrespected that I couldn’t even utter a word. I angrily snatched the receipt from his hand. I gathered the kids as quickly as I could, grabbed my groceries, and hightailed it out of there. I vowed never to return again.

* * * * * * * * * *

No. What I actually did was smile – sincerely – and thank him. I wished him a happy holiday as well. I got my groceries, counted my kids, and went about the rest of the day…. feeling good about a friendly and positive interaction with a kind stranger.

To be clear, I celebrate Christmas. I have celebrated Christmas all of my life. I love Christmas. But it doesn’t even begin to bother me when somebody – be it a person or a website or a store – says Happy Holidays instead of Merry Christmas. For that matter, it wouldn’t bother me if someone mistakenly thought I was Jewish and wished me a Happy Hannukah. Why? To begin with, I take it for nothing more than it is: a hopefully sincere and friendly good wish from one person to another. They’re showing me a kindness and they’re wishing me happiness. Which really, is supposed to be the whole point of the season (and for the whole year, if we’re living the way we should aspire to be living)

More than that though, is the fact that nothing anyone else says can take away MY meaning of the holiday. Nothing anyone else says will change what I believe. Nothing anyone else says will damage my own personal walk as a Christian. “Happy Holiday” wishers are not – as so many believe – “taking the Christ out of Christmas.” The only one who can take my Christ out of my Christmas is me.

Let me say that again, rephrased:

The only one who can take your Christ out of your Christmas is you.

How do you take Christ out of Christmas? You take Christ out of Christmas every time you:

Don’t take the high road.

Are less than loving, and patient, and kind.

Gossip, complain about, and judge others.

Are slow to listen and quick to anger.

And yes…. grump and moan and cry about everyone taking Christ out of Christmas, instead of simply showing the people kindness and goodwill and grace, and letting them see through your actions that Christ cannot be taken out of your Christmas because Christ is living in you. No one can take that away from you, no matter what they believe or what they celebrate or WHY they celebrate.

And if you’re going to split hairs about who should and should not celebrate Christmas, it’s worth noting that 1) Jesus was most likely NOT born on December 25th, and 2) most of what we all do at Christmas time – even as Christians – are things we borrowed and adapted from pagan traditions, not the other way around.

Every year I hear more and more people complaining about what’s become of Christmas, how commercialized it is, how far it’s gotten from its true roots…. which very well may be true, but is making a big stink about it really the answer? If, like me, you believe in Jesus and His birth, then simply live it.

If you believe in having a simple Christmas, then have a simple Christmas. If you believe in giving, then give. If you believe in kindness, be kind. If you believe in boycotting big businesses and Black Friday sales and midnight deals, then by all means, stay home.

But don’t forget that “What you do speaks so loudly I cannot hear what you say.” (Emerson)

Just a couple of hours ago, I saw a Facebook photo of a group of tents set up and camped out at the entrance to a Walmart, waiting for the Black Friday sales. One of the commenters said, “People like that are nothing more than disgusting, materialistic losers.” That there is some real holiday spirit. Now I can think of about 7,253 things I’d rather do than camp out in front of a Walmart (or in line for a Twilight movie opening) but you know what? If that’s your thing, I love you just the same. I happen to think that the world is big enough for all of us, with all our beliefs and our differences and our traditions and our celebrations.

The best thing I can do to honor my God and my beliefs and my Christmas is to live my life the way I purport to want to live it, and not worry about what anyone else is, or is not, doing. There are actual problems in the world, and whether someone says “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Holidays” is not one of them.

And don’t get me wrong. Since you know that I celebrate Christmas, I would love and appreciate a “Merry Christmas” from any one of you. But I would love and appreciate a sincere “Happy Holidays” just as much (and the diehard Seinfeld fan in me would be ever indebted if you wished me a “Happy Festivus” while you were at it.)

The Christmas cards we send every year say “Peace, Joy, and Love” on them…. partly because that was the default greeting on the design we chose several years ago and it resonated with us, and partly because it just sums up the meaning of the season – and our lives – in three simple words.

I know it sounds trite, but I really do wish you peace, joy and love… whether you’re a believer, a non-believer, or even a Walmart parking lot camper.

336 Comments

Filed under about me, Christmas, faith, holidays, hot topics, perspective, religion

November 9, 2011 · 6:00 AM

Megachurch Myths

We recently started going back to church after another year-long hiatus.

I really love our church.

I say that with emphasis in part because I just honestly love it that much, and also because it is a first for me. Having gone to church nearly every Sunday for my entire life, I never went to a church that I genuinely looked forward to. Never went to a church that I felt excited about. Never went to a church that I felt compelled to share with others. Yes, there were specific people that I grew to love, and certain aspects that I enjoyed here and there… but I never truly loved a church until now (and if I’m being honest, there were churches in my past that I not only didn’t love, but that made me outright miserable) Suffice it to say, my personal church history has made me very empathetic and understanding towards those who have sworn off church altogether.

The church we attend now is a huge church. It has over 17,000 attendees over the course of its 5 weekend services. It has a sprawling campus, separate children’s and teen buildings, a rocking worship band, a bookstore, a Starbucks, a cafe, an outdoor grill… all those things that for some reason make a lot of people really really uncomfortable. Those things that make people come to a snap judgment in their head, and offer up a categorical, “Oh it’s one of those churches.” We haven’t brought anyone to church with us recently, but we have in the past. And with a few exceptions, their reactions were undeniably (and strongly) negative. Which is weird, now that I’m thinking about it, because it would never occur to me to go someone else’s church as a guest, and follow it up with anything other than a “thank you for the invitation,” let alone a critique.

A think a large part of the problem is that in many cases, people make their minds up before they even step out of the car, based on preconceived notions and often times misconceptions. We all hold these prejudices about certain things, and these so-called “megachurches” like the one we attend are seemingly high on a lot of people’s lists. They’re judged sight-unseen because they’re …. too big. Or too impersonal. Or too irreverent. Or too much like a cult. Or something. And if you go into a church – or into any new situation or circumstance – already having pre-judged it, it’s going to live up to your expectations for better or worse, every time.

The following are some of the biggest misconceptions or myths about megachurches that I hear the most often, along with my responses. I’m just asking that you keep an open mind, and if you should ever find yourself a guest of a friend or a family member at one of these churches that you enjoy it for the unique experience that it is. Remember that they have chosen to call that church home for a reason, and that they’ve chosen to invite you for a reason too (and it’s really not to bring you over to the dark side.)

1. They are impersonal.

How can you possibly make personal connections in a church with literally tens of thousands of members? You show up. You talk to people. You join small groups. You volunteer. You get involved. Even just taking the kids to their classes every week, we are starting to see the same faces, and get the same familiar greetings. The pastor is outside the auditorium every Sunday before every service, greeting members, talking to people, throwing a football with a child, just like you’ll often see happen at a smaller church. Is it possible to remain completely anonymous, go to services, and go home without having talked to a single soul? Sure (although you’d admittedly have to be pretty rude and ignore the half dozen people that say good morning to you on the way from your car to the auditorium). But it’s a choice that you are making. It’s not the fault of the church! And it shouldn’t go without saying: I have attended small churches, with maybe 30 members, and have been utterly ignored. Yes, I could have initiated conversation, but when you’re a 20-something newlywed in a mostly older congregation, it is far more hurtful and uncomfortable to feel rejected by 30 people than it is to be an anonymous member of a church of 1,000’s, where at the very least you can count on an honest and friendly “good morning,” or “good to see you” on your way inside.

2. They are irreverent.

I went to another church once where was there a huge knock-down, drag-out (not literally) over whether or not it was okay to bring tables into the room that was used for worship, so that it could also be used for pot lucks. People got so upset about it, they left the congregation. The issue? Some people felt it was irreverent to eat in a room that should be reserved for nothing but honoring God. But here’s the thing. It’s just a building. That’s true if it seats 10 or 10,000. God just wants us to come to him. He doesn’t care if we do it from a small church or a large church or a mountain top. He doesn’t care if we’re dressed in jeans or flip flops or our “Sunday best.” He doesn’t care care if we drink our overpriced Starbucks coffees while we listen to the sermon. He just cares that we showed up.

Having said all of that… The rock-style praise music that you hear at the start of the service (one of the biggest things that makes people nervous, along with the fact that people sometimes bring their coffee into the auditorium) gradually gives way to slower, more reflective songs. When it’s time for communion – which undeniably IS a time for reverence – the room is quiet, the mood is appropriately contemplative, and everyone is able to partake in the manner that he or she finds most in line with their own personal interpretation of scripture.

3. They are all flash and no substance / They focus too much on entertainment

This is an odd one to me. Yes, I enjoy the music during the first third of the service. Yes, it’s nice that they turn it into a whole “experience” with the lights and the instruments and the video screens. They have talented musicians leading the singing, and they always choose great songs with meaningful lyrics. I appreciate it. I appreciate that I’m almost always guaranteed to laugh at least once during each sermon. I also appreciate the pretty grounds, and the big expanse of lawn where all the kids play between services, and the giant cross at the top of the hill. But that’s not why I go. I go because I know I’m going to be challenged each week, every week. I know I’m going to hear a lesson that’s based not on one man’s opinion, or on tradition, but on the Bible. I know that I’m going to learn a little bit more about what it truly means to “walk the walk,” and I know that I’m going to be given a practical and applicable “take away” that’s real and relevant in my own life, right now.

Similarly,

4. They preach a watered-down, “feel good” gospel.

First, the Bible is above all else, GOOD news. If you’re going to a church that has neglected to mention that fact, then I think you’re going to the wrong church. I’m sorry, but I do. It IS good news. It’s inspiring. It’s joyful. It’s filled with grace. But that doesn’t in any way mean that all that’s taught is airy-fairy, feel-good, watered-down, spoon-fed nuggets of fluff. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been as challenged to grow as a Christian as I’ve been since we’ve started attending this church (and granted, that may have more to do with where I am in my own personal walk. But still) Our pastor never shies away from saying the hard things. Never neglects to give us the whole truth. NEVER fails to make me think, and think hard, about why I believe what I believe, and whether or not what I’ve always thought to be true is actually biblical. It even sometimes makes me uncomfortable, in the best way, because that’s how you grow. He preaches what we need to hear, not necessarily what we always want to hear. Last Sunday, the lesson was on materialism, one that cut incredibly close to my core. We’ve been worshiping money (albeit in a weird, opposite of materialism kind of way) and it’s wrong. I don’t know that I would have fully grasped how and why it’s wrong if I hadn’t heard that particular lesson on that particular day. And while it would always be nice to live in a carefree la-la land where I can get all worked up over money all I want, I’m now facing it. Precisely because my church does NOT preach a watered-down, feel-good gospel.

And speaking of money,

5. They cost too much money to operate / They must carry a lot of debt / They are wasteful of God’s resources.

I’ll admit, this one really, really bothers me. For many reasons. For one thing, the pastor of our church never set out to create this huge Super Church. That wasn’t his goal. He was simply heeding a personal call to evangelize. When he started this church in 1982, it met in a movie theater. As it naturally and organically grew, and they needed more and more seats, they began meeting in an elementary school, and subsequently rented other buildings until they were finally able to secure their own land and build their own building. As the church continues to grow, any time a need arises for new space or new buildings, the members all contribute their funds to make it happen. When we first started going, they were taking donations for the children’s building that our three youngest so enjoy every week. In fact we all got to write on the floor before the carpet was laid, as a dedication (which was pretty stinkin cool) The church is growing and expanding so much that they now have two campuses, and have helped start 11 other various churches as well.

When you consider that as Christians we’re supposed to be winning people for Christ, I have a hard time viewing it as anything but a GOOD thing that this church has grown to the size that it has. Churches are supposed to grow!! People are supposed to be getting out into their communities and ministering to people in need. People are supposed to be inviting their friends and family to church with them. I personally wonder more about the churches that don’t grow. The ones that struggle just to maintain their current membership year after year.

Oh, but the money!! The electricity, the lights, the water, the paper! Oh the waste! That money could be ministering to needy people in other countries.

Well, yeah, it could. And while I can’t speak for other churches of this size, the church that we attend is actually quite heavily involved in overseas missions. But the fact remains that this church is ministering to tens of thousands of people RIGHT HERE, who are then going out in to the community and ministering to tens of thousands more. That is no small thing!! Does it cost money to do it? Of course! And there are lots of people willing to step up and share that burden (or blessing, as the case may be)

6. They are churches of “convenience.”

The first time I heard this, it was in reference to the fact that there were 5 identical weekend services (although at the time there might have been only 4) But I’ve heard it in other ways too: The fact that you can go to the cafe and eat your lunch while you listen to the sermon on the big screen. The fact that the outdoor grill seating area has the Sunday morning ball games playing on its many TVs. The fact that you can sit in your PJs from the comfort of your home, and watch the video version of any sermon you happened to miss. In essence, we’re back to the spoon-fed, no-effort-on-your-part assertions from #4. Here’s my problem with that: If you’re going to minister to 17,000 people, you’re going to need to schedule different times to fit them all in. That’s not a matter of “convenience” but of practicality. Having two services on Saturday and three on Sunday gives people options, and allows them the best possible chance to get the most people to church to hear that week’s message (which, after all, should be the whole point, shouldn’t it?) As for eating in the cafe, and watching the service … well, as I said earlier, I really don’t believe God cares if we’re eating while we’re worshiping him. I actually happen to think God likes it when we’re always worshiping him… whether we’re eating or showering or paying the bills. The sports thing is a non-issue for me. I don’t watch sports. But I think it’s pretty darn cool for the people who do. I see it as nothing more than another chance to hang out with other believers, bonding over a common interest while you eat your freshly grilled frankfurter. And the video sermon at home? How awesome is it that in this day and age we have that option when we have to miss a sermon?! That’s not being spoon-fed. That’s using the technology given to us by God to further study his Word.

* * * * * * * * * *

When the Bible was written, some 3,000 years ago, there weren’t 7 billion people on the earth. There was no internet. No electricity, no running water, no sound systems, no video recording capabilities. There were no cafes, no Starbucks, and no bookstores. In other words, there is no sound biblical reason to support the flogging of a church simply because it employs any or all of the above. The Bible is silent on the specifics of modern-day worship facilities, because there was no practical need (or resources) for their existence. What is the Bible NOT silent on? Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Faithfulness. Gentleness. Self-control. There are no perfect churches…. not big ones, and not small ones. But if your church is preaching – and more importantly, LIVING – these nine things, it’s on the right track, whether it has 17 members or 17,000.

15 Comments

Filed under about me, church, faith, misconceptions, religion, spirituality

August 29, 2011 · 6:00 AM

Kind People in Red Shirts

We recently started going back to church, after many many ~~logical, sensible, well-thought-out reasons~~ excuses kept us away for many months. I really love this church. And I’ve realized that it’s not because of the great music or the pretty campus or even the inspiring messages. It’s not because I leave feeling all warm and fuzzy every Sunday. All that is nice and everything, but it’s really of little importance how it makes me feel. The reason I love it is that it’s full of people who, by and large, are committed to going out and BEING the church… people who are kind and giving and have servant hearts. Not just on Sundays, not just because they feel like they have to, but because they want to.

This past Saturday, we joined a group of other members from our neighborhood for a service project. Our assignment was to clean out a large planter at the local elementary school, to get it ready for a future sustainable work of art. The kids were very excited to be able to do their part to help, and all six of us were warmly welcomed by the group (none of whom we’d met before) when we got started.

Ironically, shortly into our morning of service, we were the ones getting served. We’d only been there for around half and hour when Spencer misjudged a step, lost his footing and fell from the side of the planter, scraping his legs in the process. At first he answered with a quick affirmative to all the concerned “Are you okay?”s, but eventually accepted an offer to at least sit and get some cool water on his scrapes. As the adrenaline – and the 100+ degree heat – started catching up with him, he grew paler and paler.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, which garnered the attention of another kind samaritan from the group. He took one look at Spencer’s face, which was still losing color, and said we needed to get him inside under some air conditioning. He helped us inside the school, holding cold bottled water against his neck. (He explained as we went that holding it on the carotid artery would cool the body. Later on, Spencer told me that he enjoyed that bit of information, as he is very familiar with the term from watching all his medical shows)

He stood and chatted with us inside the school’s office, while Spencer sipped cold water and tried to cool off. He was starting to look a little green, and finally admitted he was feeling nauseous and light-headed. Our rescuer disappeared then, and returned about 30 seconds later with a big dripping wet something that he draped around Spencer’s head and neck (which helped almost instantly.) The man had literally taken the shirt off his back and soaked it in cold water to come to the aid of an overheated kid he’d just met. And all I could do was say thank you.

Thank you kind man for making sure my son did not pass out. Thank you half a dozen people who asked, more than once, if he was feeling better.

Thank you for the friendly conversation, and for treating our kids like the interesting, unique people that they are.

Thank you stranger who let my 3 and 7 year old help paint the Arizona map, and made them feel special and important, and didn’t once complain about drips or unevenness.

Thank you red shirted people, for welcoming us into your fold, helping us serve the community, and helping each other serve US. Thank you for your unexpected ability, in the short span of two hours, to completely restore my faith in humanity.

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