Month: January 2014 (Page 4 of 5)

The fallacy of the share button

January 10, 2014 / Michele Minehart

A while back I posted an article on FB regarding Devion, the orphan who went to a church asking “someone, anyone” to adopt him. It left an imprint on my heart that a teenager would so bravely become vulnerable to so many strangers. I can’t imagine the hurt he feels for him to break through an I’m-alright-I-don’t-need-anyone facade.

Later, it struck me how many people had commented on the link or shared it, remarking how much their heart hurt for the boy. I did it. I shared it out of my feed and and it did leave a chip in my heart.

And then, it just stopped. Did I call to find out more? No. Did I do more reading about stateside adoption and foster care? No. I went about my day. I made dinner. I ran a bath. I probably read my book club book.

I love social media and the access to information it provides. But with great privilege comes great responsibility. The trouble with our information age is we’re sopping wet, swimming in information, so much so that we hardly have a chance to let it soak in. We’ve developed scales because we simply cannot let so much hurt or pain we see in the world really get into our hearts and have an impact.

Shane Hipps has a book about the Hidden Power of the Electronic Culture: How Media Shapes Faith, Gospel and Church. I haven’t read the book in its entirety but I heard a message he gave on its principles. The basic idea is that we have so much access to information that we become dull to it.

Even worse, we begin to believe that we’re “doing something” to spread the word of the world’s evils by hitting the share button, when in fact we’re simply actively, rather than passively, ignoring the need. We’re looking the world’s challenges in the eye, nodding, and wishing them a nice day. “Someone should do something about that,” we say.

I belong in the choir loft on this one – I love sharing what I read. (Defense number one: I honestly share a very small proportion of what I read. I tend to read so much that I have to share a small proportion of it or I believe I’ll bust. I need to converse about these things). But while we jump hurdle #1 of awareness, we stand in front of the next one and gawk at it. Whew, I’m so tired from telling all my friends that I don’t have any energy to actually do something about it.

I, like many others, frequently wish to take action but feel so small and inadequate in dealing with the world’s problems. Sometimes the only thing I can think of doing is hitting the share button. Perhaps that’s okay, as long as I don’t let myself be fooled into thinking I’m making a huge difference until I put on my shoes. It’s not just the talking, but the walking, that will matter at the end of the day.

As often as you can

January 9, 2014 / Michele Minehart

When I visited Portland last winter for my Momcation, I enjoyed a conversation with a mom-to-be and mother-of-one about parenting. While they are both in the education field, I was pregnant with my fourth, which elevated me to resident “professional” status in the world of rearing children. Or, at least, birthing them.

Through the course of breakfast (which, by the way, AMAZING. Put the Screened Porch on your list of Portland musts) it became clear that I adhere to a more hands-off approach to parenting. At one point I described H-boy and his tendencies to be perfectionist and want things just so. My new friend-of-a-friend remarked, “is your husband that way? Is that where he gets it?”

HA.

Um, no, I responded. That would be me. She was a tad surprised, given our conversation, so I explained, “I work very hard at being laid back.”

I do very little in my parenting life that’s not pre-meditated. I consider the short- and long-term effects of serving ranch with our salad and I find systematic ways to rotate who sits in the front of the bathtub on a given night, though NONE of the children seem to remember who did it yester-yesterday, as Miss M would say.

This brain of mine, it does. not. stop.

I try to take it easy. When I “let things roll off my back” it’s because I’ve contorted myself into some sort of Cirque de Soliel-worthy gymnastics. I’m not naturally an emotionally limber person.

However, I do find that with some stretches I’m doing better and it’s so worth it. Far less emotional injuries. And the better I do at saying, “ah, it’s just water” or “sure, I can help you” the easier it is to parent these children.

A wise person once told me to “say yes as often as you can.” I love this. I’m trying. Because is there really a good reason why he can’t sleep with the hockey puck? Or sort the salad on her plate? Sure, convenience can get a vote – but not be a dictator.

I’ll defend my need for order until the final high school graduation – we wouldn’t eat or show up for school without it. That mom, with her menu plan for the week and the budget for the month, well she sits at the table, too. But I’m glad that she’s let Chill Mom come out to play every once in a while. I’m hoping she can make more frequent appearances – especially on snow days.

My un-resolution

January 7, 2014 / Michele Minehart

It’s been on my radar for several weeks, but after some reading, I’m leaning toward a new resolution, one week into the new year: thinking less about eating healthy.

Not because we’re obscenely healthy. We’re not. We had a round of the stomach bug over Christmas (fortunately, not all of us and not at full strength. Praise be to Jesus). But I think I will be healthier if healthy eating takes a back burner. I’m not looking to change what and how we eat. I’m changing the way I think about what we eat.

I’m done with the cringing when we’re presented with a smorgasboard filled with foods we avoid. I’m finished dreading the day-after effects of eating the things that I know wreck havoc on our digestion. I’m throwing away the guilt of a Chick-fil-A date and my grandmother’s noodles.

The problem comes when I think about it too much. When I begin to believe that what I eat not just effects me but controls me. When I believe that I can control my universe by what I put on the table I’ve made a new god, one in the image of a plate.

Because I can’t. Even if I, and 7 generations after me, eats deliciously healthy meals and avoids McDonald’s at all costs, no one writes a cancer-free guarantee. Intellectually, I’ve always known this. In practice, I hate admitting it.

So here’s what I know: I love where we are. We eat lots of very healthy, sometimes organic, whole food. My kids eat variety. My goal for this year is to begin to eliminate grocery store chicken from the diet and get the real thing – pasture raised, bug-eating birds along with grass fed beef. (We’ll have to eat less of it – it’s too expensive to get huge chunks of meat).

Through our journey we’ve discovered the extent what we eat effects how we feel, think and act. For instance: a bowl of ice cream sends my son into screaming fits. So, we probably won’t be re-instituting DQ runs any time soon. We won’t return to a grain-filled diet. I’ll keep with the rice and the rice pastas if we need a quick meal. Sandwiches and grocery-store bread won’t be in stock. If bread appears, it’s the real thing – the stuff that will will go stale in days if not consumed or frozen.

I’ve told myself over and over again that I want to raise my kids believing that food is inherently good. God created it and said so. I don’t want them to fear it. However, I want them to be mindful eaters, to know where the food comes from. I want them to be grateful for what comes to the table, aware that we find ourselves in a place of privilege in this world when it comes to access to food. I want them to believe it’s only to be expected that the food we enjoy comes to us fairly and that those who help bring it to us are treated in ways that we want to be treated.

I want to live by – and teach – listening to our bodies, not just in want we crave, but in how we feel in response to our decisions.

So here’s to a life of good eating. For us, it’s filled with meals that lack processed foods, breads, pastas and dairy products. But that’s not the definition of good eating. Good eating makes us feel good about how it tastes, how it makes us feel and how it got to the table. If we succeed a majority of the time, then we’ll be eating like kings.

Month: January 2014 (Page 4 of 5)

As often as you can

My un-resolution

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