Month: February 2012 (Page 2 of 5)

Yes, and…

If I lived in the Ridgemont school district, I would undoubtedly vote yes on the levy for the new building. I’ve had my reservations before (more observations, than anything) in regards to schools needing new buildings, but every time I return to Tom-from-the-Suit-Store’s comment that he “will never vote no on education.” Our educational system obviously has many flaws, but holding back from the kids will not provide solutions. Instead, we need to invest more into providing opportunities for young people to become innovative creators and contributors to society (ahem, enter the ARTS). 

Not to mention, this was posted on FB today: 
This is the “classroom” for the early intervention specialist at the high school. Well, his morning room. In the afternoon he gets the music room (which I’m sure is filled with all the supplies he needs… like, tables?). As the parent of children who possibly could be involved with intervention services, I don’t really like the looks of this. 
*Slightly unrelated but parallel side story: this classroom belongs to a classmate of mine. He returned to the district and chose to invest his time and energies into his hometown. He’s among many other “lifers” at Ridgemont, who tend to be some of the most effective, highly impacting teachers. At least, in my experience (like Burrey, Ealy and France for myself and I’ve heard Robinson, Galyk, Stuck, Craig-Stuck and Craig-Thompson are strong supporting examples.) I can see this has its own separate post brewing. 
That being said – Vote Yes! – if I were in the district, I would like a Yes, And. Yes, let’s build a new building with the resources teachers and students need. And with the old buildings, we can [insert ideas to grow and benefit the supportive community]. Let’s employ those creative, resourceful juices. I’ve been very into “repurposing” lately and what an opportunity ahead of us. Of course, it’s more costly to repair the building to fit to a code on par with educational standards. But could the building efficiently be repaired to the point of housing other entities? (Honest, not accusatory question here). I know of old schools converted into retreat centers (Lewistown/Indian Lake), hospitals turned office space supplemental educational areas (Troy) and a deserted mall turned into a church (Mars Hill, Grand Rapids, MI).  What could we do with these resources that could benefit the district and county? Job training center? Rehabilitation services (because there are Drugs Bring Death signs everywhere in the county)? Perhaps there’s a way we can utilize our space, physical resources, bring jobs and support and encourage the people who have helped fund it. 
I know…. all those ideas involve money, which typically translates into taxes, which is yet another reason people might vote no. So let’s do more creative thinking, eh? We have a fantastic university within our county limits – how could it be put into play? And these are questions that are likely beyond Ridgemont administrators and BOE (so don’t hold it against them in your vote). But that’s where it’s great to be a part of a small community. Folks know folks and have good hearts and desire to see their homeland grow and develop and provide. Business owners and investors exist in our midst, especially for the next brilliant idea. Yes, And isn’t another challenge for Ridgemont administrators, it’s call for community leaders to rise up and contribute. And let’s do it with as few committee meetings as possible. Those tend to squelch things. 
A new building will aid in the development and education of the district’s young people. So will showing them what it means to employ creative thinking in business and opportunity development. Let’s show them how to look around them and say, “now, what can I do with this?”

hey, big spender

“You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are – no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.” – Jesus (Matthew 5:5, Message)

One of the token complaints of church is that the “pastor is always preaching about money.” Especially if you’re looking for a church in October, by the way. But had these complainers ever sat in audience with Jesus, they’d find themselves with similar sentiments. Money was one of the favorite topics of teaching and conversation. However, unlike common sermons today, Jesus centered his words as much around the 90% of income as it did the 10% that was supposed to become a tithe to the church. Jesus laid out a fundamental warning: Materialism is about ownership – when money, and stuff, own you. 
Take the rich man, for example, that followed all the laws and rules for religion. When he asked Jesus what to do, Jesus told him to sell al his possessions and give them to the poor. The rich man couldn’t do it and walked away saddened. This passage has more layers than an onion, and included in them is the sadness the rich man must felt when he realized his material goods had a stronger grip in him than the Spirit of God. 
So, I’ve decided my Lenten practice this year will be to stop spending. The Big Freeze. Of course, there are caveats that will keep me out of bankruptcy: paying bills, doctors and groceries. (Personal care items count as groceries. Going sans deodorant isn’t one of the ways I want to be like Jesus). My biggest challenge will be to not sneak into the cart a non-grocery item that I “need” while at Meijer. I’m definitely going to need an accountability structure for that. 
 
I’m hoping the next 40 days will help me realize exactly how much I participate in this machine of consumerism. How my social life centers around paying someone to prepare (ok, be honest – heat up) my food. And how much I depend on a store to supply me with an object to give someone as a token of my gratitude or love. I hope God reveals to me little ingenuity I have, how I don’t look to my own creativity before I head to Amazon. 
So here we go. Day one, leaving the house without the need of cash or credit. 

40 days and 40 nights

I love the season of Lent in some sort of sick, depriving way. Kind of like a long run, I love the feeling of engaging and completing something difficult. But I enjoy the spiritual aspect of it, as well. It’s a season of daily being faced with a choice, being presented constantly with the opportunity to choose Jesus over myself. Every year Lent comes around again, and every year I find myself needing a bit more of that practice. 

However, the past several years I’ve encountered some Lenten Stress. What do I give up? What has a grip on me that needs loosening? Where can I sacrifice to identify with the sacrifice of the season? How do I find a sense of balance between challenge and reasonable?
I can start with a few standard areas of examination. 
1. Food. I love food. All kinds and lots of it. I’ve realized how much I enjoy food now that my dietary intake has been reduced by nearly an entire food group. That being said, with my gastronomic difficulties, I don’t feel it necessary to add in another reduction. Honestly, my morning cup of coffee is one of the highlights of my day. And though I’d be lying if I said it didn’t cross my mind to give up grains “for Lent”, I think I’d be missing the point to sacrifice to Jesus what has already been sacrificed to my daughter. I’m sure there’s a sort of idolatry there someplace. 
2. Facebook. I’ve done this one as well, and it went smooth. I’ve contemplated a FB reduction at other points, but my current state of social solitude doesn’t bode well with a complete cutoff from those I enjoy stalking. Besides, I wouldn’t be able to get any of my news. 
3. TV. Seeing as how I watch maybe an hour a week, it’s just not enough of a sacrifice. The thing could disappear until I want to take a Sunday afternoon nap and need a movie to drift off to. 
So, here’s my only other nomination:
“A nagging wife is like the drip, drip, drip of a leaky faucet…” (Proverbs 27:15)
It’s one thing to lovingly ask your spouse and children to participate in the upkeep of the home. It’s a new ballgame when those “requests” take the form of sarcasm, a tone with a bite, a belittling of sorts. So I’d like to give up the nagginess altogether. What does that look like?
“Dear, can you please take your bowl to the dishwasher?” Acceptable. 
“Is the dishwasher that much further from the countertop where you put your bowl?” Not acceptable. 
However, though it’s a nice life adaptation, I’m not sure that fixing my naggy drip keeps completely with the spirit of Lent. It does offer me that choice of Jesus (and those I love) over myself each day, but I feel that there should be more. Perhaps it’s the fact that I can’t join in lament with fellow Lent-giver-uppers about how hard it is to go without (because then I look like a real hag). And if I can’t complain about it, is it really sacrifice? Perhaps it’s just a mid-year New Years Resolution. 
So, I have just a few more hours to contemplate what, over the next 40 days, in its absence will help me realize presence. 
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