At a parent-teacher conference last week for my first grader, I heard the dreaded "T" word. I knew it was coming and I was not near as prepared as I thought I would be. I cried.
First of all, it was not a traditional parent-teacher conference. It was a parent-big sister-teacher-tutor-principal conference. Five people sitting at a tiny table to discuss what is best for my son.
My baby. The son I never expected to have; The baby who challenged everything I knew about parenting and my faith after he crash-landed on this planet. The baby who I have pulled off the roof, who my daughter has pulled out of the deep end of the pool; the baby who locked himself in a dryer and inside of a cooler. The child, who as a result of having absolutely no fear, has lost a toe-nail and almost lost his penis. My son. The one I have sat beside in the hospital over and over while I listened to him scream in pain, cry in fear, praying the rosary, singing him to sleep, questioning every decision I ever made, wondering if I do the right things for him. Of course I cried. Life has been so hard for him.
It is no secret and I never deny that I have no objectivity where he is concerned. I want to clothe him in bubble wrap and never let anyone near him.
And now the school wants him TESTED. This should not be that big of a deal. I am a social worker. I refer people for services ALL THE TIME. I have told countless parents to have their children tested for a variety of mental health and education issues. I encourage them to consider therapy and medication when it is appropriate. But the first person who comes near my kid with an assessment form or a pill may get a punch to the face. And I wonder why this is.
Do I not trust my profession? Do I not really believe in the services that are out there to help and heal children and their families? Do I think the rules apply to everyone but my family? Where does my hesitation stem from, I wonder. Maybe because I understand there are exceptions to all the rules. That the DSM is not an exact science. If you see my son on a good day, you would wonder what all the fuss is about. If you see him on a bad day, you might wonder kind of parent am I. I don't want him to become part of a system that I believe is broken. I am scared of the labels that I, myself, place on other people's children. I want to protect him from all of the "experts" who are in line, waiting to judge his abilities and his intentions. I am so close to these systems that I only see the negative. I have no idea how testing (gag, vomit) is going to help him in a private school classroom. I can't even bring myself to make the first phone call.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
The Punchline Just Isn't Funny Anymore.
There are some topics that I am sure of but can't seem to get on paper. This is one like that. One I know I want to talk about but can't get my thoughts together and organized. When this happens, the best thing I can do is just say it as plainly as I can and wait for the fallout.
Christians, our faith is not a joke. If those in the media and our society use it as fodder for comedy, it is because we ourselves make our faith a laughing stock. I hear people frustrated, saying "They would never talk about the Muslim faith like that" or "They never disrespect the Jewish faith" spreading the feelings that our faith is picked on and picked apart; oppressed and maligned. We not only make it easy for them to insult us, we insult ourselves and we insult our God.
We are the ones who took our most sacred days, Christmas and Easter, and handed them over to secular marketing. The Muslim and Jewish faiths understand that their holy days are just that. Holy. Sacred. How can we possibly expect the world to take us seriously when our mascots are turned into cartoon characters? The virgin birth isn't enough? God coming to the world or dying for its salvation is not enough to celebrate on their own? "Look kids! Look at Santa and the Easter Bunny. Arn't they precious? Arn't they funny? Ignore Jesus bleeding on the cross and eat your chocolate. Hilarious.
We are the ones who turned our faith into a political requirement instead of allowing our faith to rise above government and focus on the eternal. We are more passionate over our tax rate than we are about the poor. We want our politicians in church on Sunday but turn away quickly when their sin is brought to light. Ha ha. Just another joke. Another Christian caught with his hands down his pants or in someones wallet. Now we hate him. Isn't our inconsistancy just a giggle a minute?
Christians, our faith is not a joke. If those in the media and our society use it as fodder for comedy, it is because we ourselves make our faith a laughing stock. I hear people frustrated, saying "They would never talk about the Muslim faith like that" or "They never disrespect the Jewish faith" spreading the feelings that our faith is picked on and picked apart; oppressed and maligned. We not only make it easy for them to insult us, we insult ourselves and we insult our God.
We are the ones who took our most sacred days, Christmas and Easter, and handed them over to secular marketing. The Muslim and Jewish faiths understand that their holy days are just that. Holy. Sacred. How can we possibly expect the world to take us seriously when our mascots are turned into cartoon characters? The virgin birth isn't enough? God coming to the world or dying for its salvation is not enough to celebrate on their own? "Look kids! Look at Santa and the Easter Bunny. Arn't they precious? Arn't they funny? Ignore Jesus bleeding on the cross and eat your chocolate. Hilarious.
We are the ones who turned our faith into a political requirement instead of allowing our faith to rise above government and focus on the eternal. We are more passionate over our tax rate than we are about the poor. We want our politicians in church on Sunday but turn away quickly when their sin is brought to light. Ha ha. Just another joke. Another Christian caught with his hands down his pants or in someones wallet. Now we hate him. Isn't our inconsistancy just a giggle a minute?
Call me whatever you want.
I grew up listening to several back-handed compliments and straight out criticisms of my personality.
The first one I ever remember hearing was that I talk too much. This was tricky for me because 1. there was just so much that I wanted to say and 2. I could never figure out what the socially appropriate number of words were. It was probably true and pretty hurtful.
The second one that was repeated over and over again was interchangeably describing me as "too sensitive" and "over-reacted" to things. Again, these personality flaws were treated as serious as lying or stealing, but they didn't have formal instructions as to when I could hurt for myself or others or when I should express some righteous indignation. Everyone seemed to intuitively understand when to talk and how to react in a socially acceptable manner but for me it was all very murky.
The worst of them all, the characteristic which has been used my entire life, is "passionate". It is always presented as a compliment but it echos the rings of over-reacting and sensibility that I was accused of early on. I never hear it as a compliment. It was confusing to grow up hearing words that seemed to describe a positive attribute but so often used to insult or correct my behavior.
This morning my 7 year old precious son handed me a picture his teacher had the kids make for Mother's Day. It was a flower, which he colored brilliantly. Above it said, "God could not be everywhere, so He created Mothers".
Yes. I get it. I understand that my son colored a beautiful picture for me out of love and celebration for the holiday. I understand that it is the thought that counts and the teacher probably meant nothing more than to help the children recognize the importance of motherhood. I DO GET IT.
But I can't help myself and the offense I feel. On behalf of my faith, my church and the bucket-load of cash I pay this Catholic private school every month, I just HAVE to ask, "What in the world are you teaching my son??" Why do they have to make my life so much more difficult? Now I have to explain to the school that they are inadvertently teaching heresy to my child.
#1 God is indeed everywhere
#2 God does not need help.
#3 Mothers, however special, are not god or substitutes for God.
I also understand that I could not say anything and let it pass. It would be easier for me and for the school if I didn't address this issue. I wouldn't embarrass myself and the school would not think I am a lunatic. But what does God think? When I stand before Him, is He going to ask why I didn't stand up to other Christians when they misrepresented the creator of the universe? Is He going to say, Oh, Susan, you are so overly-sensitive. I don't really care."
So am I being over-sensitive? Am I over-reacting? No. I don't think so. If it is ever appropriate to be sensitive and react, it is when it comes to the glory of my God and the salvation of my soul. Am I passionate about what I believe? You bet. And I am not sorry for any of it, not at all.
The first one I ever remember hearing was that I talk too much. This was tricky for me because 1. there was just so much that I wanted to say and 2. I could never figure out what the socially appropriate number of words were. It was probably true and pretty hurtful.
The second one that was repeated over and over again was interchangeably describing me as "too sensitive" and "over-reacted" to things. Again, these personality flaws were treated as serious as lying or stealing, but they didn't have formal instructions as to when I could hurt for myself or others or when I should express some righteous indignation. Everyone seemed to intuitively understand when to talk and how to react in a socially acceptable manner but for me it was all very murky.
The worst of them all, the characteristic which has been used my entire life, is "passionate". It is always presented as a compliment but it echos the rings of over-reacting and sensibility that I was accused of early on. I never hear it as a compliment. It was confusing to grow up hearing words that seemed to describe a positive attribute but so often used to insult or correct my behavior.
This morning my 7 year old precious son handed me a picture his teacher had the kids make for Mother's Day. It was a flower, which he colored brilliantly. Above it said, "God could not be everywhere, so He created Mothers".
Yes. I get it. I understand that my son colored a beautiful picture for me out of love and celebration for the holiday. I understand that it is the thought that counts and the teacher probably meant nothing more than to help the children recognize the importance of motherhood. I DO GET IT.
But I can't help myself and the offense I feel. On behalf of my faith, my church and the bucket-load of cash I pay this Catholic private school every month, I just HAVE to ask, "What in the world are you teaching my son??" Why do they have to make my life so much more difficult? Now I have to explain to the school that they are inadvertently teaching heresy to my child.
#1 God is indeed everywhere
#2 God does not need help.
#3 Mothers, however special, are not god or substitutes for God.
I also understand that I could not say anything and let it pass. It would be easier for me and for the school if I didn't address this issue. I wouldn't embarrass myself and the school would not think I am a lunatic. But what does God think? When I stand before Him, is He going to ask why I didn't stand up to other Christians when they misrepresented the creator of the universe? Is He going to say, Oh, Susan, you are so overly-sensitive. I don't really care."
So am I being over-sensitive? Am I over-reacting? No. I don't think so. If it is ever appropriate to be sensitive and react, it is when it comes to the glory of my God and the salvation of my soul. Am I passionate about what I believe? You bet. And I am not sorry for any of it, not at all.
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