Seeing Blind Spots

For a little over a year now, I feel like the scales have gradually been falling away from my eyes, revealing particular injustices around me. Not that I've had any illusions that the world is fair, or that injustice happens on the grand scale, but that I'd failed to see its systematic presence in my own little sphere, in my community.

I grew up with certain narratives that explained how the world works. I initially thought adolescence was the classic stage for testing those narratives to determine their truth. But instead, I found adolescence was only the beginning of figuring out who I am. Adulthood seems to be the actual, lifelong stage for figuring out this crazy, complicated world.

Evidenced by the fact that I'm still overturning my own preconceptions in my late 30's - and now realize it won't be the last time I have to change my mind about something important, trading my assumptions for the truth (part of what the church calls "sanctification").

I think of these moments as tectonic shifts, mental earthquakes, because at first I resist the change. God has to present the same "new" idea to me from many angles and sources until I finally dive in to research it more fully (usually a 6-9 month process that requires an open mind and primary sources from each perspective -- not one source telling me what all the others say). When eventually the evidence tilts overwhelmingly in one direction...and I've had time to process it...I'll start to make the mental leap. It is scary and exciting, and followed by after-shocks as I discover all the ripple effects of the new-to-me landscape. Over time (years), this new aspect of my worldview settles in, even as it continues to be refined and incorporated. Ultimately, it is always liberating, because I land on far safer/stronger ground than I began (John 8:32).

This process seems particularly important for those of us who grew up as an American protestant in the late 20th century. Folks like James Dobson, John MacArthur, and the Christian Coalition appeared to assemble a long list of beliefs about the world that constituted what it meant to be a true Christian. Compared to the creeds of past generations which could be stated in a few lines (the Nicene Creed or Apostles Creed - even the Westminster Confession is relatively short), this list was extensive, including support for the death penalty, opposition to gun control, support for states' rights, criticism of welfare, glorification of the American dream, anti-affirmative action, disbelief in global warming, and enumerating exactly how the world began (ala Ken Ham) and will end (Left Behind). It was the Republican party platform of the 1980s-1990s plus some.

Which is not to say they were wrong about everything - just that they were certain about far too much. Where the Bible offers so much room for mystery and paradox and disagreement, this worldview I absorbed was black. and. white. I arrived at college honestly trying to find a democrat who was a Christian so I could figure out how those two identities could possibly fit together (which to be clear, seems absurd to me now).  

In hindsight, it is not surprising that this certainty about everything (modernism) gave birth to a generation that was uncertain about everything (post-modernism). Once you discover that one plank in your platform is not the whole truth, you wind up doubting all the planks.

And that brings us back to my own little walk of faith and all its earthquakes. Adulthood has been a process of testing plank after plank against special and general revelation (again, sanctification), confirming some, discarding others. I've alluded to a few of them briefly on this blog, from confirming the logic of Christianity to realizing the world is not getting worse to embracing the scientific community and confirming again and again that the Bible is trustworthy...

...To this year, discovering the pride and injustice in my own heart. This latest journey began when I read Americanah by Chimamanda Adichie over a year ago. Adichie's winsome novel was like a trojan horse, attacking my latent preconceptions unawares. Her two main characters are an educated Nigerian woman and man who immigrate to the US and UK (respectively) and then return to Nigeria. These international transitions allow us to "experience" (vicariously) how race, ethnicity, and culture impact the main characters and how their views of both countries shift over time. Their experiences were eye-opening for me. They brought to light errors in "conventional wisdom" that I hadn't really examined, but which have since been pummeled by many articles like this one, statistics, this podcast, a friend's perspective, and most recently the discussion around Ferguson, MO, including:

Commentary on #Ferguson by Ben Watson

Why Ferguson Must Lead to Change

#Ferguson: A Gospel Issue
When Whites Just Don't Get It

How could I have thought that racism had been overcome? Or that the struggles facing modern African Americans were not the result of centuries of the worst kind of oppression and abuse? How did I not see the evil of stereotypes -- or the evil of the pride that takes credit for privilege?

It seems so obvious to me now that I have not earned the benefit of the doubt when I interact with strangers so much as I have been given it by my lucky demographics. I haven't earned my financial security so much as I was graced with a generous environment that cultivated that security. The list goes on - probably even further than I have yet discovered.

And that, really, is the point. Being willing to discover. To re-examine assumptions, to consider other viewpoints, to change my mind. Because the only thing scarier than replacing old assumptions with the truth is never examining the old assumptions at all.

ACK, The Second 1/2

Wondering where we are? See ACK, The First 1/2.

After the dark and brooding storms of the day before, Thanksgiving morning dawned cool, clear, and gorgeous. Taking advantage of a houseful of babysitters, Josh and I went for a walk to the ocean with my aunt and cousin. If I hadn't known it was MA, I would have said we were on the British moors - brown rolling hills with wind-swept scrub brush and a cool breeze.

This may be the moment to say that when it comes to climate, I am a (New) Englander through-and-through. It was a joy to my soul to be back in the NE. If we didn't love Nashville so much, I would not put up with all its humidity and overdone sunshine. Will I ever give up hoping for more snow? No, I don't think so.

But back to ACK... When we were packing for the trip, Josh convinced me to bring my sneakers so "you can go outside and play football." #delusional But I'll admit he was right to bring them -- for our walk to the beach. He was also right that some members of our family would want to go out and play football...

And after football, it was back to the beach with the big boys and my parents...

Finally, it was time to get ready for THE BIG DINNER. Aaron had been asking for weeks, "Is it Thanksgiving? Today? Now?" Yes, dear. Now!

And did the dinner deliver. Oy.

Stuffed, we all went to bed for a few last hours of rest. Then it was out the door to try for the ferry. This time, we rolled right on at 6am...

Our detour on the way back was a stop in Concord, where my parents lived while I was in college. The boys were very impressed with its snow, so we let them have a snowball fight in the town square:

And snacked on the best teacakes this side of the Atlantic:

Last, the airport, which is its own little party really. #lollipops #reading #laptops #airplanes #trucks #BurgerKing #buses #beverageservice #fun Even after all these years, the excitement of air travel hasn't completely worn off, and I love seeing it afresh in my kids.

Though it pales in comparison to their excitement over the next month: Christmas!!!

ACK, The First 1/2

A visual tour of our beautiful Thanksgiving adventure, our biennial visit to my family on an island (ACK) off the coast of Massachusetts...

(For a trip down memory lane, you can see 2008 and 2010 here - we missed 2012 due to a certain little person's arrival and my terror at traveling with 3 under 5. You'll notice this year's chronicle has more detail, as I've discovered travelogs are the only way I can actually remember the trips we've taken.)

We have to start with the fact that an island off the Cape is not the easiest place to reach from TN. Josh and I chose to divide and conquer; by cobbling together airline discounts, we got us all to Boston, just not on the same planes.

I took Isaac, who was a napless champ, mesmerized by the airport, excited about the airplane's "arm" out the window, leery of the heights, thrilled with the tray table, obsessed with the lollipops I gave him with each descent, and quite proud to sit in the cockpit at the end of our final flight (thanks to the best flight attendant I've ever had)...

Meanwhile, the big boys were discovering a thrilling new restaurant (Noah: "We went to Burger King again because we love it so much! If I was a food critic, I'd say 'Five stars for Burger King!'"), reading, coloring, drinking SPRITE, and watching "Scooby Do." They have ARRIVED. 

Once in Boston, we picked up the rental minivan (yes, even when renting we try to get my all-time favorite family vehicle) and headed toward the Cape. On the way, we stopped in Plymouth, which Noah and Aaron have actually studied and were able to "appreciate" (i.e. they have dressed up in paper versions of the tour guides' costumes).

That's the Mayflower II (which the boys preferred to attribute to pirates) and top left, THE ROCK (not the prison)

We even managed to squeeze in stops at two of my favorite regional retailers: Friendly's and The Christmas Tree Shops. Dunkin' Donuts used to be a priority till they became ubiquitous.

Finally, we were all lined up to drive onto the last ferry of the night. We had waited in the dark and wind of the docks, watching a seal play among the yachts nearby, witnessing the ferry unload an impossible number of semi-trucks, when a rain-slickered, neon-vested crew member started walking down the line of cars, delivering the bad news. The ferry was cancelled due to blustery weather. Cancelled. We had a minivan full of luggage and tired little boys in a small port town on a wintry night and nowhere to go. It took us a second to recover.

Then Josh dashed over to the one motel in walking distance to get a room. Amazingly, it was available, warm, clean, had 2 beds AND a crib, AND a free continental breakfast. It felt like Heaven. We left the van at the dock for the ferry men to carry over sometime in the night, fairy-like. ;) 

In the morning, we jumped on the first passenger boat to the island and found our van waiting for us on the other side. After 28 hours door-to-door, we made it to the oh-so-worthwhile Heaven on Earth: my relatives' house, which I would like to fold up and take home in my pocket.

That day we watched a creepy-out-of-scifi insect/drone/toy take our pictures from the back deck, visited the 18th-century colonial downtown (where the boys unfortunately learned that you must say "Ahh" while driving the cobblestone streets), and helped the boys get to know the fam -- who were, for the record, AMAZING with our kids...

They quickly figured out the key to my boys' hearts (l-e-g-o-s):

And expanded the boys' horizons (Woohoo!):

Meanwhile, Josh and I got to rest, read (Josh The Giver, me Trains and Lovers), write, eat, chat with adults, noodle on the Times crosswords, and generally enjoy all the things we only do at someone else's house. #bliss

Which brings us to the big kahuna...Thanksgiving! In ACK, The Second 1/2.

Party, Party, Party!

How have 6 weeks flown by since my last post!? Too much has happened to recap everything, so I'm just going to cover this weekend while it is top-of-mind. It was full, but did not feel like a crazy-train, probably thanks to the ever-lovely nap time. But before we get to naps, it all started Saturday morning with...

FLAG FOOTBALL
Emphasis on FLAG. Not being a football fan myself (the news lately hasn't helped), I was resistant to this idea. But believe it or not, I have great memories of playing flag football when I was in elementary school. This league also has the perfect schedule for our family, is close to home, and we're doing it with lots of friends. In fact, after their first practice/games yesterday, Josh came home and said, "I love those guys" because he and a group of friends are coaching Noah's team.

It's also Aaron's first chance to be an official team member (vs. the volunteer 12th man - you can see Isaac took up that position below).

They even started him as quarterback! (in the loosest sense of the word)

Aaron did not hide his enthusiasm. I love that kid. 

We took a break for naps in the afternoon, then off to...

JOSH's WORK PARTY (minus the "work")
Josh is blessed with an awesome boss, and despite lots of financial stress at Vandy lately, he somehow managed to pull off a great party in his back yard Saturday night. We're gonna have to check out Jim 'n Nicks again (yum!), and sombreros. Must buy sombreros. ;)

A: The ice cream's as big as my head!

PARTY ON THE LAWN

In case we didn't yuck it up enough the night before, we went to church the next morning for an even bigger party. Our church's mission statement is "To follow Christ in His mission of loving people, places, and things to life." One of the ways we do that? Parties. Big parties (hence the map - I missed the horse-back rides altogether). And not just for us - as a gift #forourcity. 

Papa participated in the car show, and was very popular as he let the kids get in! And take it for a spin! (jk) 

It was amusing that with all the amazing activities (a rope bridge, ice cream contest, cyclocross course, etc), my boys eventually wound up in the toddler tent with Isaac, who played happily there the whole time with a big bucket full of balls.

PARTY NUMERO TRES

After another necessary nap time, we hopped over to my parents'. Somehow my niece scored an invitation to a private listening party with Taylor Swift. While she and Taylor became best friends, my brother visited with the Franklin branch of our family - and kicked off my birthday-week celebrations. 

Which is to say, this was not a typical weekend for us - but when required to party, party, party, we'll do our part. ;)

Generous Tonsils, Last Part (aka Part 3)

(Confused? See Generous Tonsils, Part 1)

Let's just get one thing out of the way first: Tonsillectomies are common and routine. Everyone and their brother has had one. I didn't even know till last week that both my parents had their tonsils & adenoids (T&As) removed as kids. And since they're done on everyone all the time, they can sound easy. Let's all remember that labor and delivery is common and routine...

But the illusion that tonsillectomies are "no big deal" is encouraged by the following:

• It's a short (45min) out-patient procedure.
• It's pretty low-risk.
• It'll fake you out. Recovery does not progress in a linear upward trend, so Day 2 may seem like a cakewalk. Just wait; it's days 4-8 that'll get ya. 
• Inevitably someone will tell you their child was eating potato chips the next day. If you listen to these insanely-lucky people, Murphy's Law dictates you will not be one of them.

Sweet Aaron's was compounded by his...hair. Believe it or not, Josh (our in-house geneticist) has seen the proof that the same gene which gives a person red hair also gives them a higher sensitivity to pain and heavier reaction to anesthesia. 

Which brings us back to the only reason you're still reading: our boy Aaron!

This is the PRECIOUSNESS that came out of the OR. And Papa Bear (aka Dr. Denny) standing guard. Aaron was OUT. And really, as we painstakingly discovered, he just needed to stay out.

But the nurses are trained to wake them, because patients can't go home until they've proven they can swallow and hold something down (we don't keep IVs at home, so he's gotta be hydrated and medicated at home without one). We woke Aaron every 30-60 minutes to try a few sips of slushy. Which we saw again immediately afterward. Every. Time.

[For parents about to go through this, I should mention that one nurse kept wanting to hold off on giving Aaron meds because she said they would make him drowsy when we needed him awake enough to drink. For the record, she was wrong. In his case, the anesthesia was keeping him more than drowsy and another lortab wasn't going to make much difference on that front but it would make a difference in his pain level (i.e. willingness to swallow), so we insisted.] 

By 5-6pm, Aaron had been unable to hold down anything, so the docs agreed he should stay the night. I wasn't thrilled about spending the night in a cot, in my clothes, with no windows (we were in "overflow"), but it was more than offset by my relief that we wouldn't be force-feeding a vomiting 4-year-old pain meds and slushies all night. From that point on, they could give him everything he needed via IV and we could just let him sleep the whole thing off. Mercy.

In the meantime, Josh went home to relieve my parents, and a savior/neighbor delivered dinner to our brood. I had a headache the size of Texas, so I escaped the cell--er, room--to grab some dinner and happened on a farmers market in the hospital courtyard. It felt like springtime in the middle of winter. Hallelujah for fresh peaches. When I got back, Aaron woke just enough to watch some cartoons and then sleep through the night. 

The next morning, I woke to find him sitting up in his bed, looking at me with his perky little elfish self. It was a new day. Remember what I said about a tonsillectomy faking you out? Yeah. This wasn't the last time it would happen, but it was glorious.

He ate some ice cream and took a popsicle for the road. We were on our way. Or so I thought.

We got to Josh's really great, low-mileage, lovable and until-now-dependable car, and it showed me this:

It is not supposed to look like this. So we waited in a hot parking garage for an hour while it was resolved. And saw that ice cream and popsicle again. And again. :(

When we finally made it home, some brotherly love and Daddy's arms and pudding (and meds, of course) helped set the world right again. So began the real recovery...

But don't worry. I won't recount the following two weeks of mundane 3-steps-forward-2-steps-back. Let me just give you the advice I found true and important during the days that followed:

• Don't make any big plans for the patient for 2 weeks.
• Accept all offers of help during that time. You don't know how much you may need them by day 7-8.
• The recovery usually gets worse (days 4-8) before it gets better (days 8-10).
• Keep giving them pain meds around the clock until they turn the corner (usually around days 7-10). If you wait too long, the pain will prevent them from swallowing the meds they need to decrease the pain (and swallow anything else). 
• Relax about food for a fortnight. When Aaron ate anything, it was usually treats (slushies, gogurts, jello) or comfort food (for him, cereal soaked in milk). He lived on Lucky Charms the first week, because it fit both categories.
• Use a humidifier in their bedroom at night.
• Don't expect them to talk normally for a few weeks. Aaron talked in a high-pitched voice and toddler-type accent for a week or two because it hurt to enunciate, but that all went away as he healed.

From the parent perspective, giving the meds at night was hard. I'm getting too old for the every-3-hour routine. (How did I do that for months after each baby??) Plus Aaron was most uncomfortable at night, so there was a lot of crying and confusion involved in each dose -- and a lot of doubt on my part on when to wake him (he needs the sleep!) and when to give the meds (what if he's crying but it's not time yet?). I was pretty worn out by day 8, so it was convenient that Josh got back home from a business trip, and I left for a women's conference with friends...in Orlando. ;)

Which is about when Aaron "turned the corner" and began sleeping through the night, eating more normally, and jumping back into the fray with his brothers.

Today, Aaron is totally healed, has great memories of the experience (he told me once, "I got my tonsils out; I get dessert every day!" #nicetry), is sleeping soundly without snoring, has higher athletic endurance, and is processing ideas better than ever. Like everyone I ever talked to, we ARE so glad to have done it. And to have it behind us. ;)

Noah's Kindergarten Recap

It's 11pm the night before Noah starts 1st grade, so I thought it was about time I provide an update on how kindergarten went...

In a word: great. Of course I cannot possibly summarize such a full year in this little post or at this hour of the night, so I'm just going to post a few pictures that represent the many memories and friends that made up Noah's first year of full-time school.

Which was a success largely to due this lovely lady, Ms. Bannister, who has a song for every activity and a way of keeping order AND fun that I didn't fully appreciate till I tried to do it for her for ONE HOUR. She's a saint.

And these crazy cats. A sweet bunch.

A few times Noah was in the spotlight (which he loves/hates) for his citizenship, art, and presence.

A few of his favorite projects: the diorama, Lego book, writing journal, and constant discussions/drawings about football with buddies (one of whom was an Auburn fan).

I wish I had a calendar like this to show all the field trips and special events that filled the year; I was really surprised by the wealth of experiences Noah was given. I think because it was all things I used to have to make happen when he was home with me - things I had to plan and check the weather and if it was age appropriate and coordinate with friends and squeeze around housework and between brother's naps and when we all had a good attitude... 

Was this really a year ago?

But now, there's a team of people taking care of it all, for him, for free. I expected the daily lessons and homework and learning to read (which in itself is a huge load off me), but I didn't realize everything else that would go with it. The school carnival, the field trips to plays and businesses, the visiting professionals, the special "dirt days" and after-school science experiments and painting like Picasso (imho ;)) and bonding with new friends. 

School often gets a bad rap, and it's frustrating that not everyone has access to a good one, but this year has reminded me to appreciate what an incredible blessing it is -- one I don't ever want to take for granted (though once they've been doing it a few years, I may need to come back and read this post again... ;))

In the meantime, Noah sharpened 48 pencils today and has his backpack full for first grade and Mr. Wilkerson (a fellow Peabody grad. Anchor Down.)! 

Generous Tonsils, Part 2

(Confused? See Generous Tonsils, Part 1)

We scheduled Aaron's joint tonsillectomy and adenoidectomy (yes, that's a word, though no one really uses it, since they just take 'em out while they're in there for the big guns). It was during what we hoped would be a "lull" in our summer: June 19th. After summer camp, before further travel, grands in town? Check!

When June 18th rolled around, it suddenly hit me that he was about to be laid-up for 2 weeks (gulp!). We promptly squeezed 14 days of activity into 12 hours...

At Chuck-E-Cheese with good friends.

We were out the door the next morning by 6:15am for an 8-9am surgery. Our first stop was the family waiting area, where they had Disney Channel playing, trucks, puzzles, and even a playstation. No food is allowed since the kids can't eat or drink, so Josh and I took turns sneaking back to the carefully-camouflaged parent dining area.

Then it was our turn for pre-op, where Aaron and Peter Pan...

1) Received special bracelets and "finger hugs" (measuring the oxygen level),
2) Saw the room they'd be going into (on the iPad) and discussed why everyone else would be masked (they're still good guys).
3) Chose the flavor for his sleeping gas (raspberry),
4) Turned his bed into a racetrack for hot wheels (Remembering back on his time in the hospital, Aaron said, "They gave me hot wheels! And they told me, You can draw on the bed! It wasn't a regular bed. It was a magic drawing bed!"
5) Drove away in their cozy coupe with the surgical team in attendance (ala secret service).

I was so impressed by the whole process. As was Aaron, who was ready to move in.

Ironically, it was similar to my introduction to hospitals. I had an emergency appendectomy when I was his age (4), and while I remember the pain, my overall memories are happy: pudding and ice cream to eat, balloons/crayons/gifts from family and friends, candy stripers visiting my room, and all-I-could-watch TV. Life was goooood. And since most hospital visits could use all the help they can get, carrying a little warm fuzzies in the back of your mind is not a bad thing.

Thanks to the brilliance of Vandy Children's, I think Aaron would still jump at another visit. Minus the recovery...

Which is coming up next! Generous Tonsils, Last Part

Generous Tonsils, Part 1

Last year, I did not know what a tonsil was. Nor did I suspect it of nefarious interference in my child's behavior. Now that I am older and wiser, I thought I'd share our most recent medical odyssey, not only for Aaron's loving reflection when he's all grown up (My parents took such good care of me!), but also for the edification of other ignorant parents out there (Tonsils are evil).

It all began 20 months ago. I'd noticed a nasal quality appearing in Aaron's voice - like he was talking with a stuffed-up nose. But he wasn't sick. I mentioned it to his speech therapist, and she pulled out a note she'd just written to me, saying the same thing. It was my tip-off. The tip of the iceberg. The tipping point. You get the idea.

She was the first to mention the villain in this drama: his tonsils (and their henchmen: adenoids). According to Josh, Aaron's looked big, and could be getting in his way, which could be causing untold problems. So I called our pediatrician who referred us to a local pediatric ENT. 

We saw him January 2013. He seemed unimpressed by the little meddlers, so he gave us a Rx for Aaron to inhale every day for the rest of his life (or so it felt) and said come back if it didn't work. We made lame attempts to use said medication. It seemed ineffective. We moved on to other pressing matters like getting to school on time and eating three meals a day.

You can see those bad boys (tonsils) in the back of his mouth,
where the one on his left (our right) is almost
touching his uvula (the thing that sticks down in the middle).

But while we were distracted, his tonsils were busy. Gradually, I started noticing the signs (havoc) accumulating: snoring at night (or sitting, awake), gagging on "nothing," last to bed but first to rise and then sleepy during the day, too tired to concentrate, etc. By December 2013, I was back at the same pediatric ENT to say, Is it normal that his tonsils nearly meet in the middle?

This time, he was a little more impressed. We didn't have to get them out, he said. But if we did, Aaron would probably eat better, sleep better, breathe better, talk better, learn better, and behave better. But the choice was ours.

Still, "elective surgery" is really a terrible phrase. Especially when it's referring to your 4-year-old. So we took Aaron to a popular-among-Josh's-doctor-friends pediatric ENT at Vanderbilt for a second opinion. He told me Aaron had "generous tonsils." Which made me want to say "thank you." In my world, generous is good. I want to be generous. I want Aaron to be generous. I was confused. Did I want his tonsils to be generous??

Turns out...No. But he offered one more step for confirmation: A Sleep Study. Because in science, more data is always better. Except if the data is lousy and expensive and delays the whole process by several months (= sleep study on a 4-yr-old). By February, we had clarity without the sleep study. The tonsils were the enemy; they must come out; the sooner the better. It looked like this:

Tonsillectomy PROS 

1. Restful sleep (maybe for the first time in his life)

2. Improved quality of life (see above re: eating, sleeping, breathing, talking...)

3. Improved performance at school (especially sooner because it all builds on itself and we want him as ready as possible for kindergarten next year) 

4. Low risk

5. Once you're about 3-4 (and can understand enough about what's happening and the importance of swallowing medicine), the surgery tends to get worse the older you are (just ask someone who got it as an adult).

Tonsillectomy CONS

1. Slight chance of complications during or after surgery

2. Oh wait, there aren't any more cons. Because our tonsils and adenoids serve no purpose past the age of 2. Whatsoever. 

I talked with countless friends who'd had them removed, and while they all said it was awful, NO ONE regretted it. To a person, everyone saw immediate and lasting benefits.

This turned out to be the key point. It is temporarily awful. And permanently worthwhile. But we'll get to that tomorrow when we cover the actual event in... Generous Tonsils, Part 2.