Garden Progress

Little by little, we're getting there.

The concrete slab (cue ominous music). This is what it usually looks like in the summer:

And here it is in all its fall loveliness:


Our garden from a year or two ago. You can see the corner of the concrete slab at lower right.



No more concrete slab! More room for garden! Yay!

Men at work.

Can you tell they're related?



Now that's a respectable garden! (Of the back yard suburban Chicago variety, anyway.)

Trying Out a New Look

Bear with me. It's a work in progress.

I Hear the Synod Singing*

If you are a member of the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod and are not regularly visiting the website of Cross-Focused Leadership for Missouri, now is the time to start. At CFLM you will discover a "chorus of support" for Rev. Matt Harrison--an ever-expanding choir of LCMS members who have named Rev. Harrison as their choice for next synodical president. The list of endorsements is impressive and represents a diversity of voices that are coming together to sing "with open mouths, their strong melodious song"--one that appears to be accompanied by banjo.
While you're at CFLM, don't miss the YouTube video of Pastor Jonathan Fisk. It includes his endorsement of Pastor Harrison, but there is so much more; you won't be sorry you took the time to watch, and you will likely find yourself becoming a regular visitor to Pastor Fisk's YouTube channel where there are many more videos to be found and a new one added weekly.

And now, won't you join the choir?

*with apologies to Walt Whitman

A New Beginning

Have you ever had the experience of being really ill, so ill that you didn't realize how bad off you were until you finally started feeling normal? Then because "normal" felt so darned good, you started thinking you were Superman (or woman), able to immediately return to full strength, scaling this mountain, traversing that plain, and plumbing the depths of the sea?

You may have then realized that no, you weren't back to "normal" yet--you were just emerging from the ruins, and it might have been wise to take a little time to finish climbing out before you started trying to rebuild.

This is kind of how I have been feeling of late. For some reason Revelation 7:14 comes to mind.

As I think back over the last couple of years I have to shake my head in disbelief. I would prefer not to rehash all that has transpired, much of it being rather personal in nature, but it has been an epic installment in our family chronicle, a conflation of many diffuse squalls into a perfect hurricane of a storm, and I think we are all a bit scarred from the experience. But I also have the sense that maybe, just maybe, the storm is finally abating. Shall we aphorize? Yes, let's. It's time to turn over a new leaf, find an open window, look for the rainbow after the storm, get a new lease (NOT leash!) on life, take stock, and plant some seeds.

So that is what I have been trying to do the last few weeks. I recently concluded a one-year contract working as a part-time staff accompanist at a local high school. On an almost daily basis for this last academic year, I have started my days by driving a half hour to school, working several hours, and driving a half hour back. What this meant, of course, was that the things I used to do in those 3-4 morning hours now had to get done by someone else, or at some other time, or perhaps not at all. Certain things, like laundry and dishes, give no quarter and will always get done, if not in the morning (which was my wont), well then, at some other time. Other things are easier to push aside (a fact which reflects not at all on the importance of those things but rather on the sinner's capacity for abrogating that which should be most valued). And one of the easiest things to push aside is personal care, both of the body and of the mind. So sleep suffers, diet suffers, exercise suffers, the pursuit of thing intellectual and artistic suffers, and personal devotion and prayer suffers. Relationships also suffer, because the exhausted (drained, used up, depleted, emptied) person is not effective at either listening or communicating and, himself in survival mode, has less to give to others.

I'm tired of merely surviving, of getting through the day in one piece. I want to thrive again.

Maybe it's too much to hope for. Shall we deliver another aphorism? Why not? Life this side of heaven is no bed of roses. But a rose here and there can go a long way toward making a lumpy bed more tolerable.

So the girl who couldn't bear to think of New Year's resolutions in January is ready to make some summer resolutions now. I have my mornings back, and here's what I plan to do with them:

1) Pray. First thing.
2) Read the Bible.
3) Read something else for my own edification--in a book, NOT online. (That is not to say that I'm swearing off online reading. But my written word consumption has been out of balance for too long, and I need to address that, for my own sake.)
3) Exercise.
4) Do some intentional rather than path-of-least-resistance meal planning (I'm talking with cookbooks and everything!).
5) Do at least one thing (besides the usual cleaning and maintenance) that contributes to the beauty and comfort of the home.
6) Work on my piano technique (i.e., play some scales).

That's it. I'm keeping it simple. But these are some areas of my life that I feel I have sorely neglected this past year (and beyond), and if I can succeed in putting them back into perspective I think a lot of other things will follow.

Here's to good health!

There's just something . . .

. . . about a man with a shovel.

Especially when he's as handsome as this one.

Some Sunday Morning Loveliness

My daughter Caitlin performed Claude Debussy's "First Arabesque" in a piano competition a few weeks ago. I suggest pouring yourself a cup of coffee or tea, putting your feet up, closing your eyes and taking some deep cleansing breaths while soaking in this beautiful and peaceful piece of music.

First Arabesque by Claude Debussy from Cheryl on Vimeo.

Yoo-hoo, Todd and Jeff

I think you (and a few others) may recognize this song . . . .

"Viva La Vida" from Cheryl on Vimeo.

(By the way, that's my daughter doing her Laurie Partridge impersonation.)

Good Riddance

This has been so long in coming. When we moved into our house over ten years go (!) the back yard was an overplanted, overgrown, overlandscaped mess. We have spent the last ten years removing superfluous fencing, hedges, and bushes and reclaiming the lawn that used to be there. The last piece of the puzzle was this concrete slab and four fence posts. I have no idea what its original purpose was. When we moved in it was enclosed with a chain link fence. We removed the fencing long ago but the slab has been an eyesore ever since.

Today we finally said goodbye to the whole ugly mess:

The plan is to expand our tiny little garden plot into this newly excavated space. I'll post pictures as the plan unfolds.

Anyone want to come to a shoveling party?

Reassessing

Please don't hate me, but I'm one of THOSE. Yes, one of those. My favorite class in school was English. I loved it all: the grammar, the writing, the reading . . . . Ah, but not just the reading. The analyzing. The picking apart and breaking down and obsessing over and interpreting and discussing and scrutinizing and evaluating and all the rest. Raft symbolism in Huckleberry Finn? Bring it on. Rocking chair imagery in Sister Carrie? No problem. Irony in "Richard Cory"? How obvious can you get?

I loved English class so much in high school that when I got to college and needed something fun to balance the stress of being a piano performance major, I signed up for a literature course. Then another. And another. I did it enough times that after I completed my music degree I realized I might as well press on another semester or two and get the English degree as well. Before I knew it I had a teaching certificate and 150 bright, waiting, upturned faces eager to be enlightened by my collected literary insights and to join me in further textual excavations.

Ummm, no. Would you believe that not all of them shared my passion? That there were other things they would rather do than catalogue all the foreshadowing clues in "A Rose for Emily"? That it was enough for them to merely read "The Fall of the House of Usher" as a scary story, giving no thought to the allegorical implications? What was wrong with these kids?

To answer the question, they weren't interested. A lot of them weren't interested in reading, period, at least not reading the stuff I assigned. But I had my list of required state objectives and I did my dutiful best to shove them down the throats of my captives. And over my years of classroom teaching there were a few like-minded sorts--okay, weirdos--who joined hands with me and willingly, even enthusiastically, went along for whatever literary journey we were on at the time. But I must admit the majority of my students were just watching the clock until it was time for lunch or cheerleading squad or football practice.

It's been quite a while since I did any classroom teaching. I only lasted three years at the secondary level. Then it was back to school for my master's degree in, what else, literature. Two more years of quibbling over minutiae no one else in his right mind cares about. But I enjoyed it, and it enabled me to get adjunct teaching work at the college level. Phew. Much better hours and no discipline issues.

The only teaching I am doing these days is of my own children. When my son entered his freshman year, we started following the typical four year high school literature sequence:

1) Ninth grade - Introduction to Literature (emphasis on genres and literary techniques)
2) Tenth grade - World Literature
3) Eleventh grade - American Literature
4) Twelfth grade - British Literature

My daughter, although she is three years younger, is herself quite the wordsmith so has gone right along with us and, truth be told, enjoyed it a lot more than her brother.

But here's the thing. All that stuff I learned how to do in college and grad school--all that bookish fussiness--I just can't seem to get motivated to do it with my own kids. Somehow with my own kids it seems enough to just tell them to read something and then to sit down for a little while and talk about it. Our conversations go something like this:

"So, what did you think of (fill in the blank)?"

"Oh, you didn't like that? Why not?"

"It sort of reminded me of (fill in the blank)."

"Boy, what a stupid world view. Do we have to read any more of his stuff?"

And so on.

I'm not saying we never talk about things like imagery, symbolism, irony, metaphor, and the like. They come up when the discussion leads to them. But when I think back to all that close reading I made my classroom students do, I have to wonder why? What was the point, if they weren't going to be writers or literature majors?

More and more, I think the way we teach literature in school is an impediment to true appreciation. We make kids hate it because we suck all the life out of it. The problem is, the way it should be taught--"Go and read this, and when you come back, we'll discuss it"--doesn't fit the paradigm. Number one, most of them won't read it. Number two, there's no way to quantify the teaching and measure the results in a way that would please the educational establishment. "We read thus-and-so and talked about it" does not lead to darkening in any of the little holes on the state list of required learning outcomes.

I don't think I will ever go back into the classroom. I suppose I should not say never. But after the experience of having students who actually read what has been assigned without the constant threat of a pop quiz, I don't know if I could stomach the classroom experience. In truth, my children have spoiled me irreparably. I used to spend hours reading and rereading and coming up with discussion questions and activities and assignments. If I didn't, there would be nothing to fill the class time. But more and more I think the class time IS the reading, and everything else is gravy.

On the other hand, maybe I'm lazy no-good excuse of a homeschooling mom and I need to get off my duff and go write some vocabulary lists. What do you think?

Holy, Holy, Holy

It was a magnificent celebration of Trinity Sunday at my church this morning. You can read a little more about the service here. The high point for me musically was the final stanza of "Voices Raised To You We Offer" with congregation, choir, organ, brass and timpani. The sanctuary was truly bursting with song! But the high point personally happened during the Hymn of the Day, "Holy, Holy, Holy." Evan, my youngest, is reading pretty well for a six-year-old, but hymn singing can pose a challenge: there are so very many words, after all, and some of them are beyond the average first grader's vocabulary. So my husband and I typically try to help him follow along by pointing at the text as we sing it. We don't press the issue or make a law out of it: if his mind wanders or the words are particularly abstract or complicated, he is allowed to listen for a while. Then when the concepts become more concrete and the images more vivid such that he can latch on to them more easily, we gently tap him on the shoulder and invite him to start singing with us again.

Today during the singing of "Holy, Holy, Holy"--a hymn that is pretty high up on the child-friendly meter--I felt Evan's hand on mine. I had apparently fallen down on the job and he was reminding me of my parental duty. He guided my hand to the hymnal and looked up expectantly, as if to say, "Well? Aren't you going to point at the words for me?" I obliged, and he commenced singing with gusto.

It was a moment that I will wrap up and store away in a hidden corner of my mommy heart, to be taken out and joyfully called to mind in future times. It was also a priceless reminder of the fact that, no less than they need us to point them to food, drink, clothing, and shelter, our children need us to point them to Word and Sacrament, to pure doctrine purely taught and preached, and to worship that is faithful to that doctrine.

May we as parents always do all that we can to enable our children's song, and when we fail, as we shall, may we rejoice in the certainty that God our Heavenly Father does not, as He eternally points us, through the work of the Holy Spirit, to His Precious and Holy Only Son.

Back in Time

I think this may be why my husband married me, or at least why I initially caught his eye. I reminded him of his childhood pet, a cocker spaniel named Ginger. (Do you see the resemblance?)

Rest in peace, Ging. I wish I could have met you.

First Piano Recital

I know. I'm his mother, head over heels in love with him. But this is one of the cutest things I've ever seen. I guess I'm doubly proud since I'm not just his mommy but his piano teacher as well.

I had planned to have him play only two songs, but he decided that he wanted to play four. The prerequisite was that they had to be memorized. As you can see, he obliged.

I told him he only needed to bow at the end of all the songs but that between them, while people were clapping, he should smile. As you will also see, he took that advice very much to heart.

Make sure you watch to the end. You don't want to miss either the big finale or the grand bows.

First Piano Recital from Cheryl on Vimeo.

More on Lost

In his sermon yesterday, my pastor talked about how Christianity is the only religion that hinges upon God coming down to man rather than man reaching up to God. In light of that truth, I was struck by this observation in one of the columns that I read today about the Lost season finale:

"Despite the overwhelming presence of symbols from a variety of religious traditions and time periods, Lost was never about transcending the human realm in order to become divine. Lost's religious dimensions reflect a persistent, almost maniacal desire to be human . . . .

"Our heroes are not on a quest to get to paradise or return to the Garden of Eden. In fact, it is just the opposite. They are in paradise, but paradise has not turned out to be what we thought it was." (Bradley B. Onishi for The Huffington Post)

I don't think we should overplay the Christian symbolism in the show. It is not an apology for Christianity. But the Christian narrative is certainly there, strongly, from start to finish. And as Gene Veith observes, the Christian doctrines of sin, sacrifice, suffering, repentance and forgiveness are in the end what makes it all hang together:

"The story was resolved by a sacrifice (which these other religions don’t believe in), by forgiveness (Locke forgiving Ben for murdering him), by reconciliation, in a church (which these other religions don’t have), ending in Heaven (which these other religions don’t believe in)." (Dr. Veith in the comments thread on his post "They Once Were Lost and Now Are Found").

Farewell to Lost

My take on the Lost finale: incredibly moving and emotionally satisfying. Are all my questions answered? No. But in the end I realize that the reason I stuck with this show was not the plot, which was so twisty-turny that I had a hard time keeping up with it (and year-long breaks didn't help!). The reason I kept watching, from the very beginning, was the people, who were utterly riveting and made me care about them deeply. Hats off to the writing and acting that brought that about.

I find it interesting that within our own family there is a difference of opinion about What It All Means and that the dividing line is age-based. The young Lost watchers in our household have one idea, and the old folks have another. My theory about that is that the younger fans are not ready to Let Go of Lost quite yet, while us old fogies are.

Evan, who is 6, obviously never watched Lost with us. He didn't want to, but if he had I would not have let him. But considering that we have been watching Lost for most of his life, he heard us talk about it enough that he picked up on certain things. Last night he had two questions:
1) Did they defeat the Smoke Monster?
2) Did the dog survive?
I am very happy that I was able to answer in the affirmative for both. For Evan, Lost ended quite satisfactorily.

A cursory trip through cyberspace this morning reveals a lot of unhappiness among some Lost fans. It will be interesting to see how the Lost saga fares long term. It is certainly not the type of show that is going to enjoy a long career in reruns. You were either a part of the event, or you weren't. And I don't expect any Lost reunions or spinoffs or any such silliness, for obvious reasons. I wouldn't be surprised, though, if the show manages to keep its income stream going for a while longer with More Lost Mysteries Revealed type book and DVD sales. More power to them.

Bottom line: would I do it again? Would I give 6 years of my life to this show? Yes. In a heartbeat. It was absolutely worth it.

I'll leave you with a link to the blog of a friend who several years ago wrote about what Lost meant to her family. Although our situations are far from the same, I strongly relate to what she says about how Lost provided a escape hatch for her and her family through some difficult times. I think that is the best thing about Lost for me. It was one thing, besides church, that brought four out of five of us together in a shared passion on a regular basis. Considering that one of us is going off to college in a year, the passing of Lost may signify the passing of a time for us, too, that is too quickly slipping away.

I guess I have some Letting Go of my own to do.

Voice Recital

Caitlin and Trevor's solos from their voice recital Sunday. I know I'm their mother, but I must say, these are some talented kids. And voice is not the first "instrument" for either. I think both would agree that they are a a little bit more comfortable sitting and playing piano than they are standing and singing.

A standing ovation goes to their voice teacher, who knows and loves them not only as singers but as individuals and who couldn't have picked more perfect songs for them to sing on this, the spring "pops" recital.

Enjoy!

"Somewhere" from Cheryl on Vimeo.

"The Kite" from Cheryl on Vimeo.

How to Win Friends and Influence People

Rebekah at the Concordian Sisters blog recently posted a letter she wrote to the editor of the LCMS (Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod) publication The Reporter. Her letter (which may or may not find its way into print) was written in response to a recent article in The Reporter about the Women's Leadership Institute, an LCMS organization dedicated to providing women "opportunities to grow in the unique gifts of leadership and character that God gives to women for service to Christ, the Church, and the world." I think Rebekah rightly questions the goals of the WLI, and I encourage you to read her letter as well as the article that prompted it. While initially one might ask what could possibly be wrong with encouraging women to serve others, that misses the point, because the WLI seems not so much focused on serving as on leading.

Well, then, you might ask, what's so bad about that? What's wrong with women leading?

Again, on the face of it, nothing. In fact, I spend much of my day directing and leading people. I tell them when to wake up and when to go to bed, when to eat and when to wash dishes, what pages to read in their history book and when their essay is due. I decide what snacks they will find in the pantry and what they will have for supper. I determine what picture goes on which wall and who gets new shoes this month. But I don't think the WLI cares too much about that sort of leadership. I think instead that what they are most interested in is women leading large groups of people visibly and publicly. And the great risk is that in doing so they dismiss and devalue the lion's share of women's work, because most of it is hidden and humble, known by but incredibly important to only a cherished few.

One quotation from the article effectively summarizes most of what concerns me about the concept of a women's leadership organization in the church:

"[A participant in the WLI conference] said it was 'refreshing,' as a young person, 'to see that there's actually a need and a want for us in the church.' She said it was 'awesome to see other sisters in Christ who are so 'on fire' for the Lord,' and that her experience at the conference 'makes me want to go out and serve more, and lead more, and make more of a difference.'"

There is something seriously perplexing about a young churchgoing woman who has to attend a "leadership" conference to see that her church needs her. In my experience, most churches are hungry for volunteers. The need is great and the workers are few. Too often, it is the same few people doing most of a congregation's work. How, then, could someone find it surprising or "refreshing" to discover that she is needed? My guess is that the ways she wants to be needed may be different from the ways that she actually is. But true service is not a matter of cherry-picking the jobs that appeal to you or the ones that will build your self-esteem or bring you praise. True service is being willing to do that which is inconvenient and unappealing and tedious and dirty (kind of like being a mother, no?).

I'm not even going to touch the phrase about being "on fire for the Lord"--that is a whole other post--but I can't ignore the final reference to making "more of a difference." More of a difference than what? Implicit in that statement is the belief that the kind of service that requires "leadership" as it is defined by organizations like WLI is inherently more valuable than the sort of leadership I provide on a daily basis for the poor miserable sinners who share my roof.

Please understand: I have no problem with women leading in ways that are in accord with God's word. My husband's assistant cantor is a woman, and she contributes much to enabling the Lord's song in our congregation. But she is also a wife and mother, and I think she would agree that the service and leadership she provides at home by caring for her husband and baby girl are far, far more important than any of her singing or organ playing or choir directing. I have known many other women in the church who have served as teachers, school principals, board members, deaconesses, musicians, composers, editors, event coordinators, counselors, secretaries, and more. But you know what? None of them needed a leadership conference to tell her that there was a need for her gifts nor to convince her to share those gifts in service to God's people.

When you get right down to it, the establishment of a women's leadership organization within the church is a buying into the mindset that women have heretofore been kept down and that they need to be liberated from the patriarchy in order to truly fulfill their potential. It is at its core unbiblical. It is also--and I think this is what bothers me most of all--rooted in the Law. Because far from feeling liberated, when I contemplate participating in such an organization or attending one of its events I instead feel burdened. You mean to say that what I am doing right now is not enough? You want me to do MORE? And if I don't it means I'm not on "fire" for the Lord?

Note to WLI: I'm sure you mean well, but I think I'll pass. And now, if you'll excuse me, there's a certain 6-year-old little boy who needs and wants me to make a difference in his life by directing him to his bed and leading him in a story and a prayer.

Stupid Housewife Thoughts

One of the questions being asked about Supreme Court Justice nominee Elena Kagan is whether or not she's a lesbian.

I don't care. If she's not making an issue of it, coming out militantly in favor of a gay rights' agenda, then in my opinion it's not worth talking about. A lot of public servants engage in behaviors that are against my personal moral code. For example, I daresay that many politicians whose views I agree with have committed the sin of fornication. I think that is wrong. But in today's culture it is common for people to not see anything wrong with it. So as much as I would like for all of my leaders to live a sexually pure and decent life, I don't think realistically that I have much hope of that. Therefore, if a person doesn't engage in a behavior publicly, flaunting and defending it as an "alternative" choice that is as legitimate as any other, and if the behavior doesn't compromise his ability to do his job, I am not going to lose sleep over it. We all sin daily and fall short of the glory of God in ways big and small. The question for me when it comes to a public figure is whether or not the sin is being committed in such a way that its consequences are foisted on those the public figure is called to serve.

Back to Elena Kagan. Interestingly enough, it is not the conservatives who are politically opposed to her that seem to be most obsessed with the question of her sexuality. It is, rather, her political allies and friends. Case in point: this column in The Washington Post, penned by Ruth Marcus, who identifies herself as a friend of Kagan's. The opening sentence of her column:

"She's not gay, okay?"

Marcus goes on to say that she wishes Kagan were gay because it would be of great benefit to the country to have an openly gay woman on the Supreme Court, but that she knows for a fact that such is not the case, and that the only reason people are talking about Kagan's sexual identity is because she is an older woman who has never married nor had children.

I appreciate Marcus' point. An "older" woman's lack of husband and children (I'm putting "older" in quotation marks because I don't think Kagan is much older than I!) should not be taken as reason to suspect that she is a lesbian! God does not call every woman to the vocation of wife and mother. But after arguing that we should not come to one conclusion about Kagan based upon her lack of a husband, Marcus goes on to promote another that I think is just as silly: in her opinion, Kagan is just too smart for marriage and motherhood.

I'm suddenly having a flashback to the 1970's, when the militant women's liberation movement was still raging and the argument was that there were two kinds of women: thinking types who went out and got a "real" job, and heads full of mush who opted to stay home and rear their children.

I thought we had gotten beyond that mindset. I guess not.

So Cate, Melody, Lora, Jane, Elephant's Child, Susan, and Rebekah, Reb. Mary and Gauntlets, I have some news for you: the only reason you have a husband and kids is that you're not very bright. If you had been smarter, those guys wouldn't have married you. And the fact that you are home caring for them and their children instead of out in the workforce means that you are even dumber than we suspected. (By the way, that list of links could have been longer. But my poor, feeble, little brain is tiring so I had better wrap up this post while I have some mental juice remaining).

Of course, I'm being ironic. The ladies to whose blogs I have linked are not only stay-at-home moms but are some of the smartest people I know. But here's a thought that is not meant to be ironic. Maybe Elena Kagan has never been married because she just hasn't found the right guy yet. Or maybe God has other plans for her (plans which I personally hope don't include being on the Supreme Court, but on that one I'm not holding my breath).

Mother's Day Thoughts

Seeing all the Mother's Day greetings on Facebook this morning got me thinking about the meaning of motherhood. What is a mother, anyway? The ideal mother, that icon of patience, virtue, gentleness and sacrificial love who is celebrated in the greeting cards and television commercials today is, of course, nonexistent. Every mother on the planet is nothing more than another wretched sinner in need of salvation. I know that as much as I personally try to be a good wife and mother, every night when I go to bed I have to acknowledge that the day is littered with my failures: my selfishness, my neglect of my loved ones, my bad-temperedness, my impatience, my ungratefulness, my resentment of the ways I am called to serve, my . . . well, you get the picture. Thanks be to God that I don't have to approach sleep burdened by my sinfulness but that, looking to the Cross, I can close my eyes with a clear conscience, knowing that Jesus died for my sins, too--yes, even those.

And yet, even as I acknowledge my own shortcomings and those of my fellow mothers, I must also admit that there are countless women who by the grace of God model many of those characteristic maternal qualities that we honor this day. The thing is, not all of them are mothers. For reasons that are known only to our Heavenly Father, they were not called to the vocation of motherhood through either biology or the choice to be an adoptive or foster parent. Nevertheless, in their generosity of service and affection, they exemplify the ethic of motherhood. Likewise, there are women who are technically mothers but who fail their children in such far-reaching and irreversibly destructive ways--through abortion and abuse and manipulation and willful neglect--that one wonders how they can even be called "Mother."

Today I would like to call to mind a few women I have known who have modeled motherhood for me. Some of them have had their own children; some of them have not. But whether they had children or not, each allowed herself to be used by God for the purpose of mothering the people in her life, and I have been blessed to see the consequences.

I think today of . . .

Aunt Lou, my godmother. She did not have children of her own. Older sister to my father, she was like a grandmother to me, whose grandparents were distant and largely unknown. Her visits always meant lemon meringue pies (which I never had the heart to tell her I didn't much like), eating together around the table (which we rarely did when I was growing up), and praying before eating (which we also never did). Aunt Lou was joyful and irrepressible, and she loved her "dear ones" deeply and unrestrainedly. May she rest in peace.

My friend Phyllis, wife of my pastor, and quiet and humble servant of our congregation. She and Pastor do not have children, but they are godparents to many, including my youngest, Evan. Evan delights in his "Auntie Phyllis" because he senses how much she loves and delights in him. We may not have any extended family in our congregation or even in the area, but Pastor and Phyllis make us feel as though we do.

My cousin Kimberly, whose troubled young mother took her own life when Kimberly was but 8 or 9 years old. Yet Kimberly by the grace of God has managed to turn that horrible tragedy in her life into a reason not to doubt and repudiate the power of love but rather to pursue and welcome it. She is one of the most affectionate, cheerful, loving and life-embracing people I have ever known. And she is one of the few relatives I have who takes an active interest in my own children, championing them and their accomplishments with a mother's passion. Kimberly may have lost her mother far too soon and may not be a mother herself, but she understands motherhood, and she understands the value of family.

I think today of several of my sisters who did not have the strongest foundation for starting out in life and who too young found themselves mothers. From them I learned that no matter the circumstances, a baby is a blessing and a gift, to be received with joy, loved unconditionally and cared for and nurtured no matter what sacrifices one must make to do so.

I think today of the ladies who have stood in as caregivers for my own children, particularly of Kay and Ina, who have children of their own but who when they have cared for mine have treated them as their own, loving, teaching and disciplining them with a mother's heart.

I think today of the many women I have known both up close and at a distance who have taught me that the most important calling a mother has is to raise her children in the fear and love of God.

And I think of my own mother, who herself was not mothered well and who also became a mother before she was ready. She has nine children, seven of whom are still living and two who went to heaven before they were born. She did not have strong parenting help from either of her husbands, and she would be the first to admit that she, like all of us, has sometimes failed in her vocation. But her love for her children, her willingness to work and sacrifice to provide for them, her honesty, her humility, and her deeply held desire for her children to be happy and have the best in life, have never been in question. You know those mothers who lord over their children and try to control them, who expect them to behave in a certain way and who punish them when they don't, and who insist on being the center of attention in the family, getting angry when they are not? You know the kind of woman I'm talking about--the one who will never let you hear the end of it if you forget that today is Mother's Day. Well, my mother is the polar opposite of that woman. She expects little and appreciates what comes her way. Today I would like to thank her for all she has given me and try to impress upon her that it is okay now to be done with giving and to simply receive. To need someone to help and care for you is nothing to be ashamed of, and in fact, what God wants most for each of us is that we might simply acknowledge our dependence on Him and receive the gift of forgiveness and love He offers.

So to my own mom, and to all other mothers who are reading this, I would like to say: you have nothing to prove, nothing to accomplish, nothing to worry about, nothing to fear. Your sins have been paid for. Your failures have been erased. You don't need the forgiveness of the sinners you bore. The only forgiveness you need is that of your Lord, and you already have that, have had it for all time. Jesus loves you as your parents couldn't, as your husbands couldn't, as your friends couldn't, and as your children can't. He loves you, finally, as you cannot love yourself. His love is more than enough, and it comes to you new every day, never to run out. Receive it, and be glad. You are His beloved child, and that is all that matters.

Mother's Day Haul

Yesterday I took Trevor to a tournament and enjoyed some uninterrupted reading and computer time while he played chess. When we arrived home last night I was instructed to close my eyes and was led by the entire family to the kitchen table, where this lovely display awaited:

Wow! There were beautiful flowers, Les Petits Ecoliers cookies (with extra dark--70%-- chocolate), a variety box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates, a shipping confirmation for a copy of Luther's Day By Day We Magnify Thee (it will arrive in a few days), and a necklace from Coldwater Creek (one of my favorite stores). Talk about being gifted! And then there was the card, which couldn't have been more perfect. On the front is a happy pink mommy mouse in bathrobe and slippers holding a coffee cup--yep, that would be me--and the following words:

"Mom, there is only one thing standing between you and a completely rejuvenating, relaxing Mother's Day . . . ."

(open card)

"US!"

The inside of the card depicts three happy mouse children, one pink and two blue (I have one daughter and two sons). Perfect! Of course, while Mother's Day might be quieter without my mice scampering all around, it would be dreadfully lonely. Not just Mother's Day, but every day, is made complete by the presence of these souls that God has seen fit to share with me for a little while. It is hard to believe that there will come a day that I will wake up to drink my morning coffee and will go to bed that night having passed the entire day without seeing their faces or hearing their voices.

But I don't want to think about that right now. Right now I just want to soak in today. Thank you to my three mice and to their helper, Mr. Mouse, for making me feel so loved. I am blessed among women!

More Pirates

A short video (47 seconds) of Caitlin singing as one of "The Daughters" in The Pirates of Penzance. In the chorus line shot she is fourth from the left, but the first girl is mostly hidden, so Caitlin is the third girl from left that you can actually see. In the final pose at the end of the song, she is the second from left.

Don't they sound great on this song?

Pirates of Penzance from Cheryl on Vimeo.

The Pirates of Penzance

Caitlin modeling her two costumes for this weekend's musical. Thanks to my friends who helped put these outfits together, including Chocolot, who lent the nightgown, and Elephant's Child, who sewed the skirt and sleep bonnet for us. (Wow, EC, that's the second time I have linked to you in as many days. Are you feeling important?)

A third friend from my church choir lent the blouse, but she doesn't have a blog so I will just have to give her a shout out: Thanks, Judy!

A "Because I Need to Post" Post

Elephant's Child says going too long between posts can lead to spammers. And here it's been almost a week since I blogged! Where has the time gone?

Well, let's see. We had a Confirmation service, and a party, and I rehearsed and played for three school concerts while keeping all the usual stuff going. No wonder posting has suffered. But I don't want to encourage those nasty spammers! So this is what you call a spam-prevention post--the quickest, easiest thing I could come up with heading into a weekend that includes one offspring performing in The Pirates of Penzance and another participating in a weekend-consuming chess tournament.

Yesterday on Facebook I mentioned re-reading a few parts of Moby Dick in preparation for discussing my son and daughter's literature reading. (We are doing a survey of American literature and are up to Melville in the book.)

I never read Moby Dick until I was a graduate student in literature and was required to do so. But I was glad I did. It was a hard read, but a good one. And yesterday as I revisited a few chapters, I toyed with the idea of revisiting the whole book, wondering what my enhanced years might enable me to gain from a second round with old Crooked Jaw. I don't know if I'll do it or not. But when I mentioned on FB that I might, a few friends stepped in to try to save me from myself: "Don't do it!" they cried. "Life is too short to read a book just because you think you should!"

I assured them I would only read it because I wanted to, not because I should. But that got me to thinking about other books (I'm talking big, fat ones) I have tried to read because I thought I should but have given up on because I just wasn't enjoying the experience. A few that come to mind:

The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings
War and Peace
Anna Karenina
Atlas Shrugged (Notice that this one is in my sidebar as "reading now"--I started it in January. I am no longer reading it.)

Then there are the books I started reading because I thought I "should" but kept on reading because I enjoyed them so much:

Catch-22
The Brothers Karamazov
The Grapes of Wrath
The Fountainhead (I wonder why this one so thorougly sucked me in but Atlas Shrugged leaves me cold?)

So how about you? What are the books you tried to read not because they were assigned but because they were recommended to you or because you just thought you should? And of those, which ones did you stick with because they were such great reads, and which ones made you wonder whether you even know how to read?

Did He or Didn't He? - Words, Continued

President Obama used an "f" word at the White House Correspondents' Dinner Saturday night. It is not clear which "f" word he used. But it matters little to me, because what is clear is that the President's utterance was an attempt to allude humorously to the Vice-President's recent four letter "f" word gaffe.

Does anyone else find it inappropriate for a sitting President to be making light of obscene language? Is it not one of the President's duties to comport himself as a gentleman, not only for the sake of upholding the dignity of his office but also for the sake of modeling desirable behavior for the country's youth?

Wasn't there a time that it was considered scandalous for a President to use foul language, even when it was never intended to be heard in a public forum?

How times have changed.

School

Sometimes as a homeschooling mom I worry about the things my children might miss out on by not attending a traditional school. Other times I am reminded of the things I am glad they are missing out on.

Case in point. My 6-year-old, Evan, attended two years of half-day preschool at our church. He enjoyed it and so did I. (I am not good at playing with preschoolers. So sue me.) Evan is highly extroverted and also thrived on the daily interaction with other children. But the experience was not without its drawbacks. Evan was not a model preschool student. Evan is also a highly opinionated and expressive child (okay, okay--bossy), traits which on more than one occasion led to frustration (okay, okay, major meltdowns) on his part because people weren't doing things The Right Way.

We got through it. We were blessed with small classes and patient and loving teachers. In truth, it wasn't that bad. Before Evan, I was spoiled. My first two children were a classroom teacher's dream: introverted, quiet and obedient to the extreme, and content to be left alone in their own world. They have been almost abnormally "good" and easy children to parent. With Evan I have for the first time experienced what it is like to see the teacher coming your way and not know whether the news is good or bad.

Evan may not be in school anymore, but his classroom days are not over. He attends Sunday School every week, and that, too, has been a struggle at times. My husband and I try to drop in on his class frequently to give the teacher moral support and see how Evan is doing. Last week there was only one teacher (there are usually three) so I decided to stay for the entire session. The experience left me once again feeling vindicated in our decision to homeschool. There is no way I would want to subject either Evan or us to the struggle that would ensue if he were in school.

First off, please understand I am not criticizing the teacher. I don't teach Sunday School. She does. That makes her a hero in my eyes. My point is not to criticize the teacher but to illustrate the limitations of the classroom setting, limitations that would turn into daily frustrations for my child and me.

One of the primary characteristics of traditional school is the schedule. Since we're all doing the same thing, we all have to stay on the same schedule (especially when there's only one teacher). When it's time to move on from one activity, everyone has to move on together. Several times last week I witnessed Evan's vexation at being told it was time to stop what he was doing and start doing something else. He wasn't finished yet! Because I was there I was able to help him through the transition, but had I not been there it would have likely been much sturm and drang.

Another thing I observed was Evan's finishing a project and strongly desiring for his teacher to look at it. She was too busy (understandably so!), and he had to settle for receiving affirmation from me instead. I did my best.

As class was wrapping up, the teacher asked Evan to help out by picking up some pencils. I was walking around picking up things, too, and overheard a couple of Evan's classmates planning an ambush: when Evan came by their desk, they would throw handfuls of cotton balls at him. No big deal, right? They're just cotton balls. Another kid would probably laugh and throw the cotton balls right back. Not my kid. If I had not been there to intervene we would have no doubt had a major incident. I know from experience and talking to Evan's teachers that Evan is often selected for teasing because he never fails to put on a good show. You want to create a major eruption? Evan is your best bet.

None of this is meant to fault the teacher or the other children. They are all functioning the best they can within the parameters of the classroom setting. But for me and my kid those parameters are not acceptable on a day in, day out basis. By the end of the week we would be even more exhausted than we are now.

There are advantages and disadvantages to any method of schooling. Each family must decide for itself how those ultimately add up. I know there are things that my home educated children will miss out on. But we have decided, at least for now, that the positive things they will be deprived of are outnumbered by the negative things they will be spared, and that the benefits of being at home far outweigh the drawbacks.

You Can Thank Me At the End of this Post

Some recent health-oriented headlines:

There is no good reason to do abdominal exercises. In fact, they are not good for your back. Just take a walk instead.


Dark chocolate is healthy for you. It's the flavonoids, stupid.


Caffeine may prevent or reverse Alzheimer's. It may also have a positive effect on memory and blood pressure.

There you go. No more crunches. Get up off the floor, put on your walking shoes, pour yourself a cup of coffee, slip some Dove dark chocolate in your pocket, and head outside for some fresh air, sunshine, and deep breathing.

You're welcome.

Speaking of Unschooling . . .

. . . maybe the whole country would be in better shape if more of our leaders were unschooled. At least that's what I take away from this not-to-be-missed column by P.J. O'Rourke:

"A Plague of 'A' Students: Why It's So Irksome Being Governed by the Obami"

An excerpt:

America has made the mistake of letting the A student run things. It was A students who briefly took over the business world during the period of derivatives, credit swaps, and collateralized debt obligations. We’re still reeling from the effects. This is why good businessmen have always adhered to the maxim: “A students work for B students.” Or, as a businessman friend of mine put it, “B students work for C students—A students teach.” . . .

The U.S. tax code was written by A students. Every April 15 we have to pay somebody who got an A in accounting to keep ourselves from being sent to jail.

Now there’s health care reform—just the kind of thing that would earn an A on a term paper from that twerp of a grad student who teaches Econ 101. . . .

The C student starts a restaurant. The A student writes restaurant reviews. The input-worshipping universe of the New York Times is like New York itself—thousands of restaurant reviews and no place we can afford to eat.

Ladies Wearing Hats

Jane, take note.

This afternoon at church my daughter and I attended a "Daughters' Tea." It was a lovely time. The theme was the many different "hats" that we as women and girls wear in our daily lives and how no mattter what "hat" we may have on at any given moment, each of us is above all a daughter of our Heavenly Father.

To bring that theme to life, a woman in our congregation who because of her love of hats is affectionately known as the "hat lady" shared her own large collection of hats for the afternoon. As each lady or girl arrived she was invited to select a hat from the vast array of possibilities. Mirrors were provided to assist with the selection process and once adorned, each of the attendees was invited to have her picture taken either alone or in a group with friends or family. Then all sat down for tea.

And tea it was. Yours Truly stupidly approached the drink table, cup in hand, looking for the coffee carafe, only to be informed that coffee was not on the menu today. Duh. I settled for a cup of mango passionfruit tea. It was delicious.

But while coffee was not on the menu, all sorts of other things were:

There were sandwiches and cream puffs and fruit and truffles. Did I mention cream puffs?

A few more pictures of the fun:

Suzanne

Sophie (Suzanne's daughter)

Ruthie and her mom Carol

Ladies wearing hats while eating






Francesca and Katie (sister of Sophie)







Ina providing background music

Ruthie (with milk, not tea, in that cup)

Lily and Alayna

Caitlin

I am hat-challenged. My head is too big for most hats. But I looked and looked until even I found one that fit well enough for me to suffer a few hours in it. Sorry, no picture. It was not publishable. Trust me.

(By the way, if you don't mind, could you refrain from telling my other tea party friends where I was today? I'm not sure they would understand. They have different ideas about what to do with tea.)

Words

I've been thinking a lot about words lately. (I tend to do that.)

Most recently, I've been thinking about "bad" words--the ones we (or I) tend to avoid in polite company. It seems to me that the line separating "nice" words from naughty ones has shifted over the last generation and that expressions that were once considered vulgar are not anymore.

For example, here are a few words that I would not necessarily label as obscene but that I still think are inappropriate in most situations because of their coarseness:

cr*p
pi**ed
a**

I also cringe when I hear people using what I think are "soft" ways to take the Lord's name in vain:

"Jeez"
"Oh my God" or "OMG"
"Christ" (used as an interjection)
etc. (there are many variations of this--even "my gosh" and "golly gee" and "gee whiz" are permutations of the names of the Father and the Son)

And yet I see and hear them everywhere--on the radio and television, in status updates on Facebook, on blogs, and in everyday conversation--and from what I can tell I think I'm in the minority when I cringe at their usage. Am I wrong about that? Do any of you cringe, too? Or is it just me?

A few months ago President Obama's Chief of Staff, Rahm Emanuel, got some grief for his pejorative use of the word "retard." That word was prefaced by another one that started with the letter "f" and ended with "-ing." I remarked at the time that I was more offended by the obscenity than I was by the word "retard." A friend of mine who has a Down syndrome child explained to me why for her it was the other way around--she was much more insulted by the use of the word "retard" than by the obscenity. I understand her point. But I find it revealing that I heard nothing at all in the mainstream media that was critical of Mr. Emanuel for the profanity. It seems that we have become so hardened to that sort of language that no one thinks anything of it anymore.

I am not saying that I never let a naughty word slip. My go-to profanity is the one that starts with "s" and ends with "t." It comes out when I stub my toe or break a dish or spill something or look in the rearview mirror and see flashing red lights coming up behind me. But after I use it I feel ashamed and remorseful that I descended to that level. What good did it do?

Come to think of it, that is about the only bad word that ever escapes my lips. It seems fitting somehow when something icky happens to use a word that names something icky. Maybe I'm rationalizing, but to me the "f" word seems so much worse. I can't make myself say it if I try. For me it is not just a passing expression but a word that invokes all sorts of things and has a power far beyond itself. It also horribly degrades one of God's precious gifts to humankind. And yet that's the word that everyone seems to be using and no one, not even the President of the United States, seems to mind. I find it beyond offensive that neither the President nore the Vice-President seem at all concerned about what sort of example they are setting for young people when they can so easily laugh something like this off.

So what do you think? Am I being hopelessly silly and pietistic? Am I attributing power to language that it doesn't or shouldn't have?

Maybe I am overly sensitive because of my upbringing. My father was an alcoholic who, when he was drinking, have a pretty salty vocabulary. He was also what he referred to as a "shade tree mechanic." I vividly recall multiple incidences of his working on our cars in the driveway and venting his frustration with the cursed machines through a steady outpouring of profanities, most commonly the "G.D." one, that must have been heard throughout the neighborhood. It was painful then and painful now to think of.

I wonder if my adult intolerance for just about any raw language is kind of like an allergic reaction. Allergies can occur when you go from excessive exposure to a substance to not being around that substance for a very long time. When the substance is reintroduced, there is no tolerance at all for it, and an allergy is born. My father was also a chain smoker, so I grew up breathing smoke. Now I can't be around cigarette smoke without a severe allergic reaction. Maybe it's the same with the language. I got enough of it my first 18 years to last the rest of my
life.

I would be interested in hearing your thoughts. What words bother you, if any? Do you think our society has become generally desensitized to obscenity? And if so, do you think it matters?

Unschooling Reality Check

Good Morning, America recently did a segment on the educational approach known as unschooling. Leave it to the mainstream media to get it all wrong. A quotation from the report:

Ann Pleshette Murphy, parenting expert and "Good Morning America" contributor, questioned the unusual approach. "This to me is putting way too much power in the hands of the kids, something that we know kids can often find anxiety-producing, and it's also sending a message that they're the center of the universe, which I do not think is healthy for children," she said.

"Center of the universe"? That is hardly the attitude of the unschooling parents I know. Instead, their children learn that the world is much bigger than their little piece of it, that it is expansive and inviting and full of many more possibilities than are apparent within the walls of a traditional school building or the limits of a packaged curriculum. They learn that the things that are going on in the world--things beyond themselves, involving real life and people--are more important than arbitrary assignments and deadlines and tests. And yes, they learn to look to themselves for validation rather than to their peers or their teachers. Since when is that a bad thing?

Clearly, GMA was not really interested in promoting understanding of the unschooling philosophy but rather in providing a limited and biased picture that would only contribute to the general public's suspicion of not only unschoolers but homeschoolers in general. Interestingly enough, one of the first people to point that out is a columnist for The Huffington Post:

I know I'm naïve to expect the mainstream media to cover a subject like "radical unschooling" as anything other than a freak show, but the recent hatchet job that George Stephanopoulos and Good Morning America did on the topic was so hopelessly biased that it'd make Rupert Murdoch blush.

(Click here for the full piece by Lee Stranahan.)

We are not an unschooling family. But I think it is a completely valid approach to homeschooling and I have personally met many of its success stories. And the underlying philosophy of unschooling—that children are more motivated by real life than by the created demands of a school or an extremely structured curriculum—is something that informs my husband and me in our own approach to parenting. We give our children great latitude to pursue their interests and passions on their own schedules. We do provide them with books and resources and some general expectations about what we want them to study and when. But we don’t worry much about grades or deadlines or “covering” material. And we never allow the demands of “school” to become more important than the day-to-day of caring for one another as a family.

And you know what? Our kids are not couch potatoes. They rarely watch television or play video games. Yet their days are remarkably full. So what in the world do they do with all that "free" time that's left when they are completed with their "schoolwork"? Well, let me think . . . they read. A lot. They write. They study their catechism and Bible and attend youth group and pay attention to current events. They play piano and sing in choirs and play chess and learn Tae Kwon Do. They help out around the house. They are so busy they sometimes have trouble finding time to do all they would like to do in a day.

We didn't tell our son to become a Master chess player. We didn't tell our daughter to write a novel. Yet they did. And "schooling" had nothing to do with either.

Day of Silence

The high school where I work part-time recently participated in the national event known as the Day of Silence, in which students who wish to take part resolve to go speechless for one day to show solidarity with the LGBT (lesbian-gay-bisexual-transgender) community.

I can't help wondering whether such an event would be promoted or even allowed if the purpose were to show solidarity with all the voices that have been silenced by abortion in this country. I doubt it. Yet LGBT students, while they may feel censored by societal mores*, are in our midst, able not only to speak but to eat and breathe and walk around, whereas the aborted, having been put to death, can do none of those things. So I ask, who are the truly silenced?

*I wonder, though, if that is the case anymore, considering how "alternative" lifestyles are celebrated by the mainstream media today.

Tea Party

We went to a Tea Party yesterday--our first one. The day couldn't have been more lovely. Blue sky, 90 degrees, gorgeous.

According to the Chicago Tribune, there were about 500 attendees. I'm terrible at estimating numbers and distances and such, so I don't know if that's an accurate count. Here are some crowd shots. What do you think?

The speakers for the event included former Republican gubernatorial candidates Adam Andrzejewski and Dan Proft and Culture Campaign president and FOX News contributor Sandy Rios. Dan Proft was my personal choice for governor in the Illinois primary. Here's a shot of him speaking to the crowd:

On the way to the demonstration, I tried to explain a little to my son Evan about what we were doing. Not an easy thing to explain to a 6-year-old. It boiled down to something about government wanting to take our freedom and money so they can have more control. I told him about the Boston Tea Party but I don't know if he got that part. But something sank in. After we had been at the Tea Party a little while, he was saying he was tired and ready to go home because he was feeling "government sick." Aren't we all.

One of the warm-up speakers was a 19-year-old firefighter. I am sorry that I didn't get his name, but one of the organizers talked about having met him through his Facebook page and being very impressed with his intellect and writing ability. He was an excellent speaker as well. He talked about having just come from another Tea Party in Rockford and how as he was arriving in Naperville his thought was, "We aren't in Rockford anymore. Man, you guys have some nice stuff."

This morning as I was looking for reports on the tea party we attended, I came across a falsified write-up by a citizen reporter on a CNN site. I couldn't believe the untruths. It was completely made up and included the requisite description of "angry white people." Well, yeah, there's anger. I know I'm angry at what is happening to my country. But anger was not the prevailing mood. Instead, there was hope, love of country, determination, and optimism. There were parents, children, teenagers, working people, and retired people. And they weren't all white (although white people were the majority).

Here's a close-up of one of the angry mob. He's a handsome one, isn't he?

There was one counter-protester that I saw early on, walking around with an anti-Bush sign. The crowd essentially ignored him until he interrupted one of the speakers and was booed.

There was also an infiltrator. About halfway through the rally there was a lull, as the final two main speakers were running late. To fill some time, an impromptu speaker was allowed to come to the microphone. I don't remember who he was or if the organizers said they knew him. But it turned out to be a mistake to let him speak. He began by talking about the government radios that the Nazis provided citizens during WWII, and how those radios were a tool of political indoctrination because they only gave the government side of things. Then he started rattling off a list of conservative talk radio and television personalities. The crowd was cheering the names and probably thinking, like I was, that his point was going to be that these people help provide the balance to the American mainstream media that are so skewed to the liberal perspective. But as he wrapped up his list it became clear instead that he was comparing the list of names he had just recited to the disinformation apparatus of the Nazis. He was quickly asked to leave the stage, and he did so without resisting. The event emcee handled the faux pas well, saying that we don't have to agree with him but he has a right to his opinion.

This should go without saying, but the comparison is completely illogical. A better comparison would be to sites like Yahoo, where many people in this country get their "news," not realizing that their information source is biased and selective.

A few more pictures. I was glad for the fountain, which kept Evan entertained for a while.

We ended up leaving before it was over, due to Evan's government-sickness and everyone else's schedule demands. But it was a great afternoon and I'm so glad we went. As I posted on Facebook yesterday, in home school we spent April 14 learning how to file our taxes, and April 15 learning how to protest them. What a country.

One thing I couldn't help noticing as we walked the few blocks to our car was the business parking lots. Notice the empty spaces. Remarkable, don't you think, that none of the protesters decided to "borrow" those spaces? They must have a healthy respect not only for the rule of law but also for small business. What a surprise.

I'm all in favor of breastfeeding . . .

. . . but I think this is inappropriate government intervention in the workplace. For those who don't feel like clicking on the link for the full story, it outlines one of the many aspects of Obamacare that are only now coming to light: a requirement that any business with 50 or more employees provide a designated space for working mothers to breastfeed or pump. If the language is similar to that in the Family Medical Leave Act, that means any company with 50 or more employees will have to provide such a room, even if individual locations within the company don't themselves have 50 or more employees.

I'm going to make a rather scandalous proposal here. What if breastfeeding moms simply stayed home with their babies? Hmmm? Then we wouldn't have an issue, would we?

It's almost as if the government is trying to make it as easy as possible for parents to leave their children in the care of others. Now why would they want to do that?