Journal

My Son, the Politician?

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Many years ago, my husband and I were having a discussion and I remember stating quite boldly that if I ever had a son and he became President, I would be ashamed because I would know the types of things he would have had to do to get there. 

This morning, while listening to the Today Show as it reveled in the news of the latest political scandal,  I recalled my comment while looking at my innocent one-year-old son over his Cheerios.  I looked into those sweet, fresh-from-God eyes, and wondered, “How do I raise this child to be a Man, worthy of being President…honest, intelligent, caring, honorable, strong, loyal—faithful to God, Country, and Family?”  I cannot imagine that this little human, with a soul full of love, laughter, and beauty could ever become anything but…….but.  So many forces…the task of raising this child, this someday man, to see his full potential seems daunting, and I’ve been at this parenting job for over a decade.

I no longer believe that I would be ashamed if my son became President.  However, I pray that God gives me the skills to parent this child, along with his sisters, in such a way that they will be worthy in His eyes.  Whatever they choose to do, whether it be President, or not, I hope they do it well.

I Choose Peace

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Okay, so I’ve been pondering the theory of peace that Eckhart Tolle writes about in his book.  He asks, “Do you want peace or drama?” and he goes on to discuss the fact that the “ego” as he calls it, thrives on the drama.

I was quick to think, “No, that’s not me.  I hate the drama, I don’t thrive on it!  I hate being so easily angered/frustrated/impatient/bored/annoyed/insert any negative adjective here.”  Then I decided to try a little experiment.  Every time I felt the surge of frustration/anger/annoyance/drama, I stopped in my tracks, took a breath and said, “I choose peace.”  I am still in awe every time I say it, and I feel an immediate deflation in my core.  It’s as though the negative feelings evaporate.  I am beginning to feel the separation of the “I” and “Me” that he talks about.  It feels like air being released from a balloon…I suspect that the more I deflate the ego with recognition, the less elastic it will become, and eventually it will fail to inflate…perhaps it will even burst due to it’s weakness.  A balloon will remain intact as long as it has air in it.  It only begins to weaken with repeated inflation and deflation.  This is how I envision the ego.  This balloon inside that exerts pressure and discomfort…it’s like living with a toothache.  At first it is bearable, but eventually the pain niggles at you enough that it begins to degrade your mood and your outlook with it’s persistence.

I was partially right when I said, “That’s not me!  I hate the drama.”  More accurate words would have been, “That’s not I!  I hate the drama!  However, Me loves it, and I will no longer allow Me to dictate how I will live.”

The Flower

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In A New Earth, Eckhart Tolle discusses the flower.  He says, “Flowers, more fleeting, more ethereal, and more delicate than the plants out of which they emerged, would become like messengers from another realm, like a bridge between the world of physical forms and the formless.  They not only had a scent that was delicate and pleasing to humans, but also brought a fragrance from the realm of spirit.” 

I have often thought that my babies were a window into the Presence (as Tolle calls it.)  I believe that having come fresh from God, they still retained the memory of pureness from where they came.  Which brings me to this. 

When my oldest was just two, she toddled over to a tulip that had just come up in the yard.  She knelt down and smelled it, looked up at her Daddy with the most angelic peace upon her face and said, “It smells like love!”  I was so struck in that moment, never having thought of a flower in those terms before.  My husband and I looked at each other, dumbstruck, knowing that we had witnessed a glimpse of that which cannot be described with mere words.  My baby had taught me, in that moment, to appreciate the beauty of a flower in a new way, a deeper way, and through her, I had a peek into the realm which time makes us forget. 

Reading this book reminded me of that moment, and perhaps validated what I had felt all those years ago.

Oh, my….

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I don’t claim to be a political aficionado…however, I do my best to keep up and make informed, educated decisions.  A scary thing happened while I was out shopping today.  I ran into a very friendly store clerk who seemed to want to chat, or shall I say, tell me her life story.  You know the type.  Well, as I was leaving the store, she says to her clerk friend, “Boy, that’s still bugging me….I really can’t think of his last name!”  She then turned to me and said, “Hey!  Maybe you can help!  We have been wracking our brains all morning trying to remember Obama’s last name.  Do you know what it is?” 

I truly hope that I controlled my face enough so as not to embarrass the poor lady.  With a smile, I responded, “You’ve already remembered his last name!  His first name is Barack.”  It frightens me that at this point in the game, (and yes, it is a game) there are people out there who don’t know the names of the contestants…er, I mean candidates. 

It reminds me of the time in college when a classmate showed me a map of the world and asked me where the United States was on the map.  She didn’t have a clue, and was about to teach a mock lesson in geography in ten minutes.  Yikes!

Luggage Tag Ignorance

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So, we’re heading to Disneyworld, and I received our Magical Express luggage tags this morning.  I’m feeling a little bit stupid as I look at them.  Does the extension piece with the two bar codes go on the suitcase with the tag?  Or does that piece come off?  Hmmm…it seems like it should be pretty dolt-proof, but here I am confused.  *sigh*

If anyone knows, drop me a note in the comments please!  Save me from my own stupidity!