The balancing act of freedom...

So, my daughter is going through a new phase…it’s called “throwing a fit when I don’t get my way.”  She just turned one, so I’m not really concerned. We’ll get through it.

What does cause me concern, though, is when grown-ups throw similar fits when they don’t get their way. Kind of like the couple in this story from Colorado, in which a baker declined to provide a wedding cake for a gay couple. The couple went to court and now the baker has a choice between making the cake or going to jail. I posted the article online the other day and was surprised by a few of the comments that were made. Then, of course, I was surprised that I was surprised given that we live in a temper-tantrum kind of society.

Let’s be honest, we all want to throw fits sometimes—some of us actually do on occasion. Wise people try to overcome the urge. Foolish men are proud of it. The ignorant simply don't recognize how silly it looks. This Colorado story encapsulates it.

Some would say that this case is a matter of discrimination in the same way that not serving a minority would be. Wrong. Not serving someone because of WHO they are (a minority) is different than not serving someone because of WHAT they want to do (marry a person of the same gender).

I have a sneaking suspicion that several of those who commented on my link did not actually read it. So, a quick recap is in order. According to the report, the baker did NOT decline to serve the gay couple. He offered to bake any other variety of cake. But the one thing he would not do is to participate in a celebration with which he disagreed by creating a cake specifically denoting that celebration. To be clear, he did not kick the couple out of the store. He did not lecture them on the ills of their situation. He did not spit on them, mock them, or mistreat them in any way. He simply declined a wedding cake while offering to bake them any other kind of cake.

On the other hand, the couple wanting the cake chose to attack the baker. Instead of simply finding another cake store, they decided to take the owner to court. Because somehow having a judge force someone to make a cake is better than simply asking the guy down the street (the yellow pages lists 302 bakeries in and near this town alone) to make one. Why didn’t the couple picket, protest, write letters to the editor, contact the BBB, or participate in any other number of responsible and American reactions to actions with which we disagree? Because they are bullies who wanted to cry foul.

See, discrimination is a trendy battle cry that is among the most hypocritical of our time. It is screamed from the rooftops as if it is always a negative action. The fact is that we all discriminate, all the time. We discriminate in our choices of where we like to eat, shop, hang out, etc. We discriminate in our choice of who we date, marry, befriend. We discriminate in our choice of where, or if, we worship or send our children to school.  Why, some restaurants discriminate against people who aren’t wearing shirts or shoes!

Call me crazy, but I won’t just leave my daughter with anyone. I DISCRIMINATE when I choose who I think is a responsible babysitter. But, like many words in our culture, “discrimination” is frequently misused to imply some sort of terrible action, when really it just means “the act of distinguishing,” according to Noah Webster. Now, not all discrimination is good, but it’s not all bad either.

Contrary to what is taught in many schools today, and contrary to what many of my countrymen believe, our nation was founded on the principle of religious freedom. And guess what, religion discriminates. At least mine does. It says that lying is wrong—thereby discriminating against lying. It says stealing is wrong—thereby discriminating against theft. It says that adultery is wrong—and you get my drift. This baker’s religion says homosexuality is wrong—therefore, he chose not to participate in a homosexual celebration. Note: (and again I say), he did not tell the homosexuals not to participate. He did not infringe upon their freedom. If I’m redundant it is so there is no confusion.

With all respect to any uninformed that may be reading this, our 1^st Amendment says that congress shall make no law either establishing a religion or prohibiting the free practice thereof. I think the very fact that this precious phrase is in the 1^st Amendment is pretty indicative of how high on the list it was. The first half of that beautiful clause is quoted as gospel in our society and the second is all but forgotten. In essence, it means the government can’t tell me how I must worship, and it can’t tell me how I mustn’t.

Now, I’m no constitutional scholar, but even I can see the problem (as did our forefathers) with complete and unrestrained freedom. Take, for example, the practice of Sharia law where a father can physically harm or even kill his daughter if she dishonors him. That freedom fully practiced would infringe upon the daughter’s right to live, and her right to life supersedes the right for the father to practice his religion.

Freedoms must be carefully weighed, and indeed, all of our national history is an exercise in trying to do just that. It is why our founding fathers had the great wisdom to create a system of checks and balances, because freedom is ever teetering on the fine line between tyranny and unrestrained democracy (where the majority, even if it is completely wrong – as in the days of slavery – rules). When we’re wrong, we have a pretty good history of fixing that (i.e. slavery, prohibition, etc.).

Lest I be accused of hypocrisy myself, let me remind my dear friends that I supported the SCOTUS ruling permitting the Westboro Baptist church to picket the funerals of our fallen heroes. I despise what the WBC supports, but I defend their right to the free practice of their religion. If not, where does it stop? Do I walk into a Jewish bakery and ask them to make me a confirmation cake? Can I demand that an atheist bookstore sell me a Bible? No. This baker is not discriminating against the couple because of who they are, so it’s not the same as not serving an African American client. He is choosing not to provide a service for an ACTION with which he disagrees.

I am not suggesting that we do not provide services to PEOPLE with whom we disagree. If a homosexual couple wanted to rent an apartment from me, I would rent it to them. BUT, I am suggesting that we have the right not to PARTICIPATE in an ACTION that violates our conscience. If kids can opt not to pledge the flag in school, then a baker can opt not to bake a cake.

And the government can just back off.

Advent

From the Latin, Adventus, which signifies a coming, Advent is that time of the year when the Church prepares for the celebration of the birth of the Christ child. I have always enjoyed this season of preparation. As a child, I loved lighting the candles at dinner time, and I remember a year or two when my mom gave us Advent calendars with little chocolates behind each door. In most of my years, the waiting was full of anticipation and was fun.

Last year was a different kind of waiting. I have discovered that there is the "can't wait!" kind of waiting and then the "when will this ever happen" kind. Last year, we were in the middle of the latter. Our home study was active and we had been presented with dozens of situations, had applied to about half, and had been summarily rejected. So, waiting took on a completely different meaning. Our expectation was to be matched with a birth mom about 2-3 months before her due date (as was the practice at our agency), and then the former kind of waiting would begin.

And yet, as is often the case, contrary to what we thought (read "carefully planned"), we were notified with no time to spare. I was outside hanging Christmas lights, and Peter was out of state on a business trip. I came in the house and noticed a missed call from the agency. When I called back, they informed me of a born baby girl not yet a day old, healthy, and "I'm bringing profiles to the hospital now, do you want to submit?" Short version - yes.

That was around noon on the 12th of December. We didn't hear anything for the rest of the afternoon or evening, so we assumed that another family had been chosen. It wasn't the first time, so we knew the drill. Around 10:15 that night, my husband called from his hotel (did I mention that he was out of state?) to tell me the agency had contacted him (he was the 2nd contact; I was supposed to be the first) and said they had been trying to reach me all day! (For the record, AT&T did give me a credit once they found out that their service had almost cost me a daughter). Around 10:20pm that night we heard the words "congratulations and Merry Christmas - you're parents!" (or something like that...it's all fuzzy now...but I do remember I was in the kitchen).  What a whirlwind! We spent the night making travel and contingency plans, and flew out the next day! Best. Christmas. Ever.

All of this to say that my husband and I are no strangers to waiting (we waited years before we even met and married!). But, waiting takes on a different meaning as life unfolds. And, this year, as I think about what it means to wait for the Messiah, I remember this time last year when we didn't know that soon we would have a baby (most people know for 9 months, but I've never been good about doing things the normal way). :)

Our lives changed in moments. One moment I was hanging Christmas lights, running a choir rehearsal, playing an Advent service, and talking to my husband on the phone. The next moment, I was a mom. Wow. And, as all new mothers know, no matter how prepared we think we are, we aren't.

For Christians, waiting for the Messiah during Advent has a second, and even more important, meaning. In a sense, we are still waiting, for our Messiah did come, but when He left, He promised to come back. And, if we believe His words, we don't know when He will return. I, for one, know I need to be more prepared for Him than I was for my daughter, because there won't be time to make plans once that moment arrives.

All trials shall be like a dream that is past,
     Forgotten all trouble and mourning.
All questions and doubts have been answered at last,
     When rises the light of that morning.

The heavens shall ring with an anthem more grand
     Than ever on earth was recorded.
The blest of the Lord shall receive at His hand
     The crown to the victors awarded.

(Magnus Brostrup Landstad, 1802-80; tr. Peer O. Str ömme, 1856-1921, adapt.)

The best things....

Irving Berlin may have thought that the best things happen while you're dancing, but I disagree. Before I challenge his statement, however, I'd like to insert a shameless plug for the Off Broad Street Players' production of Berlin's White Christmas opening this Friday in Millville, NJ: You can buy tickets online at Levoy Theatre. So, get your seats and make sure to peek over into the pit and wave at me on the piano!

Back to Berlin's maxim, though. I love dancing. Even minored in it in college. And, I would agree that some pretty amazing things can happen while you're dancing (not the least of which is that you get some good exercise and burn some calories, but I digress). Dancing is romantic, whimsical, rhythmic, poetic, euphoric, and the list goes on. But something happened to me today that was far better than dancing (and again, I love to dance - even forced my hubby into lessons so he could dance with me). My little girl put her head on my shoulder and gave me a big hug. As I carried her upstairs to take a nap, she snuggled into me, and for a moment, I was about as happy as I have ever been.

Motherhood is a blessing, and maybe in a future post I'll tackle what I believe is society's war on motherhood, but for today I want to piggyback on my last post about adoption. I hope that in talking about what a positive experience adoption can be that I did not inadvertently imply that it is, as the saying apparently goes, all rainbows and unicorns. In fact, it just so happens that I visited two blogs today that indicate just the opposite: one from an adoptive mother, who is using November to list 30 things (particularly difficult things) she knows about adoption, and the other from a birthmother, who honestly rethinks her approach to celebrating this month, choosing instead to honor it.

The truth is that adoption is hard, and it is not always the right answer (but it is ALWAYS the right answer when the only other choice is abortion, if that dichotomy truly exists). Adoption brings with it loss that belongs to each member of the adoptive triad: the birth parents, the adoptive parents, and the child[ren]. We more easily recognize the loss experienced by birth parents. But, one thing that society tends to overlook is that these first parents experience this loss in perpetuity. Even in an open adoption where phone calls, pictures, and emails keep everyone connected, the birth parents miss out on first steps, sloppy kisses, baseball games, and other important milestones. Pictures just aren't the same thing as physically being there.

Then, there are the adoptive parents. They often, although not always, are in the adoption ring because of infertility issues. So, they grieve the loss of parenting their own DNA. And, even if infertility isn't an issue, we know that we are parenting a child that was once loved by parents before us. Or, in the case of the adoption of older adoptees, we parent children who come with a history that we won't ever share that is highly likely to include abuse, neglect, and other serious hurt.

Not to be forgotten are the children. Even though A was adopted at two days old, someday, she will still have to navigate her feelings about not being parented by her biological parents. Experts (who these people are, I don't know) suggested that even infants who are adopted must grieve the loss of the familiar. I'm not sure how provable that is, but there is definitely a sense of loss shared by all. Young children may wonder why they were "unwanted" (not true! see last post), and older children will deal with the trauma of being removed from the family they know, the loss of familiar neighborhoods and friends, and the separation from foster families who have cared for them.

Other family members often forgotten include the birth grandparents and other extended family. One of the hardest things for me to see was A's birth grandfather hold her while he memorized her every feature. We didn't have the chance to speak for long, but I could see his grief in losing a granddaughter (I'm telling you my little girl is loved by her birth family).

But, while adoption is fraught with loss and difficulty (we were rejected at least a dozen times before we were chosen, and we know what it is like to fall in love with children only to have our homestudy misplaced and therefore miss the window to submit it), I can say without hesitation that it is all worth it. Life is a balance of loss and gain. Adoption is no different. But, the good most certainly outweighs the bad. And, as I was walking A upstairs again today for her nap, and she snuggled herself into my neck and put her arm around me (sometimes she even pats me), I forgot the mounds of paperwork, the years of waiting, the seemingly endless educational sessions, the long background checks, and the numerous invasive questions. In the moment, I was a mom, and yes folks, that's better than dancing.

National Adoption Month

I read a statistic today that six in ten Americans have a personal connection to adoption. A year ago, I may not have believed it, but it's funny how becoming part of that world opens ones eyes to just how big it is. Over the past year, I've had the privilege of meeting many folks whose lives have been touched by adoption.

So, in honor of those wonderful people, I would like to wish everyone a Happy Adoption Month!  Since this is the month for giving thanks, I want to chime in with my appreciation for adoption - for the social workers who work with emotionally charged people for long hours and with little pay to help build strong families, for the many people across the world who take the risk of parenting another man and woman's child, and also for the unsung heroes in the adoption equation - birthmothers.

Somehow, it seems easy to thank the social workers and the agencies and to elevate adoptive families. After all, no one really has ever asked me anything about my social workers, and many people have told my husband and me how wonderful it was that we adopted. Yet, society still has some confusion regarding birth moms and the incredible sacrifice they make. I've had some interesting questions come my way regarding my daughter's birthmother. Most have come out of sheer curiosity, and who wouldn't be curious? After all, mothers usually care for their own children. It is unnatural not to, really. Oftentimes the nature of these questions revolves around the curiosity regarding just how a mom can give up her kid. Many people mistakenly think that most birth moms are teenagers who may have been forced into unwanted situations, and sometimes there is judgment about the nature of their decision.

I'm writing today to try to help dispel that myth. Let me be clear, I am not condoning actions that put birthmothers into situations where they have unexpected pregnancies. Many times, it is due to selfish reasons that people become pregnant in the first place. But, and I mean a big BUT, we all make decisions that place us in difficult situations. It is how we handle these difficult situations that set us apart. And, in a culture where abortion is often heralded as the right answer, I applaud the women who CHOOSE to give life. (Funny how that choice isn't celebrated.)

There are many reasons that parents choose to make adoption plans for their children. My husband and I were surprised as we went through the process to see those choices. We were also surprised at how many birth moms whose profiles we read were not teenagers. Some were already parenting (dispelling the myth that anyone who has raised a child would really understand what she was sacrificing); others were married. Several married couples were on birth control, but were surprised by a pregnancy and simply did not have the resources. One married couple was already parenting but the mom had a degenerative disease that rendered her incapable of caring for a young child. All had one thing in common, though. They all loved the life growing inside of them and knew that they could not provide adequately for the needs of that child. They loved beyond themselves. How many of us can say that?

Last Mother's Day, my husband and I visited a diner with our little girl. Our waitress wished me a happy Mother's Day, and I asked her something I almost never ask any women. I asked her if she had children. She paused, and then opened her folder to take our order, but instead pulled out a picture of a beautiful little girl who was about 7 years old. Our waitress said to us that she had a daughter that she placed for adoption as an infant, but that the adoptive family sent her updates and pictures. It was crystal clear to us that she loved her little girl and that amidst her sense of loss, she was grateful that her daughter's parents were able to provide a solid home to the child she carried. That's love, folks.

When my husband and I flew to Utah to meet our newborn daughter, A, we had the privilege of spending time with her birth mom, M. It was so clear to us how much M loved (and still loves) our daughter. M is about as selfless a person as I've ever met. When our little one was three days old, the hospital became aware of a skull fracture that probably happened at birth. A was born with a head full of hair, so the indentation wasn't visible to the eye. M had already signed away her parental rights, so the hospital was not permitted to update her on the status. I found M in her room crying with fear at the possibility that something was permanently wrong. We hugged as I told her that everything was going to be ok. (fyi... A's skull fixed itself as she grew).

When we arrived back home in NJ, we were met with an email from M wanting to make sure that we arrived safely. She has told me that she is so glad to have met my husband and me because she wanted to know that her baby was going to a good home. She praises us as parents and is so glad to know that A is growing well. She rejoices with me at the milestones and supports us as we learn to parent. Does this sound like a mom who didn't want her kid? No, she is in the line of women like Moses' mom who loved her son enough to keep him safe, so she made an adoption plan.

As we all prepare for Thanksgiving, let's take a moment to think of those who have sacrificed beyond themselves. Yes, I'm thinking of birth moms, but there are also many others: dads who have made adoption plans alongside the moms (if birth moms are viewed skeptically, birth fathers are all but forgotten!), servicemen who are unable to be home for the holidays, public servants who work to keep us healthy and safe while we eat turkey at home, and the list goes on. It is good to be thankful for the things in our lives, but it is also worth remembering to be thankful for the things that make the world a better place for others. And, while you gather around your table to say a prayer, please thank God for the selfless men and women who chose to give life. Someday, that life may change the world.

The beginning

Getting started is always the hardest part - whether writing a book, painting a room, or composing a song. As a former lifeguard, though, I learned early on that the best way to get in the water was all at once. So, here goes...

I am a mom. Life as I knew it has changed in ways I didn't anticipate. Oh sure, there's the middle of the night feedings and the drool on all my clothing, the inability to shower on a schedule or eat a meal with two hands, but that's not what I mean. What has surprised me most is the increased urgency I have to make a difference for my daughter. I have always been pretty principle-oriented, and those that know me know that my convictions are pretty firm. But, now I think of my little girl and how she will grow up in a world that is increasingly hostile to the worldview that my husband and I wish to impart to her. I can no longer stand by indifferently.

It has been said (by whom, it is disputed) that all that is needed for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing. We live in a society where evil is triumphing and far too few good men are doing anything. Maybe it has always been this way, and I'm just seeing it now because I have a daughter; or maybe evil really is on the rise. Regardless, I have determined that this blog will be my little something. It may not be as big a something as others can do, but, with apologies to Dr. Seuss...something is something, no matter how small. It is my hope that my little something encourages like-minded people to find their little somethings. And, if along the way a heart is changed or a conviction is awakened, I'll consider this blog a success.

With that in mind, I'll close my first post with the invitation letter I send to my middle school students one year before school started:

One hundred and eleven years ago, Sir Ernest Shackleton put an advertisement in London newspapers as he prepared to lead a National Antarctic Expedition to the South Pole. His ad read:

 “MEN WANTED FOR HAZARDOUS JOURNEY. 

Small wages, bitter cold, long months of complete darkness, 
constant dangers, safe return doubtful.

Honor and recognition in case of success.”

What is interesting about this story is that after Shackleton’s ad was published, he said that “it seemed as though all the men in Great Britain were determined to accompany me, the response was so overwhelming.”

Today, I want to invite you on a journey. Ours may not be full of constant danger and bitter cold (we get snow days!), and it certainly may not result in instant honor and recognition once summer vacation comes; however, I do think I can promise you an adventure – a different sort of adventure from ones you may have previously taken. We will read tales of great courage, poems that have inspired generations, and stories that have stood the test of time. Perhaps, we will even come face to face with the greatest battle of all, the ongoing war between good and evil!  I promise you this one thing: while I will faithfully lead our expedition to unknown worlds, you alone can decide what souvenirs you bring home. Will you join me?