Author Archives: PearlS

Stephen and the Stiff-necks

Believe me, I know what it is like to have a stiff neck. I’ve been to the walk-in chiropractor twice this last week because I couldn’t even swivel my head to back out the driveway. Nothing disturbs me quite like lying contorted, vulnerable on a table while a strong man uses his full bodyweight to crack my bones into submission.

Lately it feels I’ve encountered enough theology to be suspicious of people who claim to have a good handle on it.

I’m no Bible scholar myself, but I do wake up with a hunger to eat God’s word until I am satisfied. I do yearn for spiritual food, the meaty kind that doesn’t just begin and end with a milky, watered-down sort of love-everybody vibe.
Why should I stop and be content with loving everyone? Is it really enough? Actually, how is it possible to love everyone? Even the people who hate me? How can I drum up love for people who slander me and spit in my face?
I’m not sure I can do it, so I want to better know God, “the Lord, who stretches out the heavens, who lays the foundation of the earth, and who forms the human spirit within a person” (Zechariah 12:1). He knows everything; he’s got to know about love.

In my most recent church experience, I encountered folks who, as Dallas Willard postured in his book, The Divine Conspiracy, “take external conformity and profession of perfectly correct doctrine” as “primary goals” for Christlikeness.

In other words, they play by the rules, the ones they believe are best (according to Scripture), thinking it makes them Jesus experts. Then they do God a favor by forcing it on other people.

But Jesus condemned this very type of behavior, and He had some strong words for those people (not exactly the same vibe as “love everyone”):
“Woe to you…you hypocrites!
You travel over land and sea to win a single convert, and when you have succeeded, you make them twice the child of hell as yourselves!”
Matthew 23:15

Yikes. The last thing I want to make is converts, in that case.
Dallas Willard writes that this zealous approach (Follow these rules! This church is right, that church is wrong!) produces no obedience out of love, but will rather, “either crush the human mind and soul and separate people from Jesus, or produce hide-bound legalists and theological experts with ‘lips close to God and hearts far from Him’ (Isa. 29:13).”

To be closer to Jesus, to know what love looks like, we sometimes have to run in the opposite direction of church. There sure are a lot of examples of this in the Bible.

I’ve been going through the book of Acts with my kids. Last week, we did a little craft (my approach to Sunday school is straight out of Ezekiel; lots of modeling clay and dioramas), where I read the chapter that ends with Stephen being stoned for his words in front of the Sanhedrin.
For a good few minutes in the story, Stephen has the positive attention of the Sanhedrin, who love going over their Jewish history and their powerful God. But Stephen really annoys them when he declares God, specifically the Holy Spirit, as a Someone who cannot be tamed, nor comprehended by human beings.
“You stiff-necked people!” Stephens says, “Your hearts and ears are still uncircumcised. You are just like your ancestors. You always resist the Holy Spirit!” 

They hated this, you see, because they thought they were pretty enlightened. Their forward-looking, zero-range-of-motion head position tolerated none of this speaking up business. Stephen was standing up to the institutional church of that day, and it was outrageous. So they did the usual, and stoned him to death.
It made one of Stephen’s last statements ring irony in the ears of those who bore witness, “Was there ever a prophet your ancestors did not persecute?” (Acts 7:52)
(We made little clay Stephens and stuck pieces of gravel to his body.)

So, back to love, I guess, and how to reckon our churchified lives as believers with true, holy, God-breathed love that conquers not only hate but the so-called revelations of the more “enlightened”.

Love doesn’t spring from the Law, but is born of the Spirit. Love is supernatural, so we cannot fake it, or it will eventually surface out in our hypocrisy, as it did with the Jewish leaders and Stephen. He didn’t fall in line with their theology, and he was punished for it.
Love: We can’t even pretend to know what it truly is, or what it is capable of, because it will only grow as a Spirit fruit on a Spirit tree, and that without any outsider influence or conversion. It seeks forgiveness and unity, and no peace springs up without it. No law-making, law-bending, or superior knowledge can establish the real thing.
Love is a divine spiritual weapon that has the power to demolish strongholds (2 Cor. 10:4). It has the ability to correct the worse spiritual misalignment, the strength to soften the stiffest of necks.

Love is God. God is Love.

The world is full of counterfeits, and sometimes the church is, too. 

Don’t be a stiffneck. Run to Jesus.
Run.

Love your mom.

My mom is my favorite person in the world. My husband says this is okay for me to say because she is also one of his favorites.
I think I could write about the people I love forever and never get tired of it. I’m not ashamed in any way of telling you because I hope you might also be so brave as to express how you feel about someone before their body betrays them, the dementia sets in, ears are too deaf to listen, and eyes are too blind to see whom they have loved well. Or, forbid it, your time ends prematurely here on earth.

Don’t let anyone tell you Mother’s Day is just a gratuitous way to keep the Hallmark business alive. A good mom can never be over-praised. A good mom-like friend is equally worthy.

God made moms as keepers of memories, secrets, treasures. He lets moms in on the hidden things of life–all the hard, gratifying work the world cannot understand. Throughout a mom’s life, He matures her with His wisdom. He satisfies her with His promises. If God thinks so highly of mothers, and if your mother gave you life, how should we love them?

Call her. Feed her good food. Write her long-winded letters. Send her random boxes of love. I’ve sent my own mother empanadas and ice cream and a whole sandwich kit from New York City that boasted “the Largest Deli Sandwich in the World!” Most recently I sent her an air fryer. She won’t have room on her countertop for it, but part of the fun for me is imagining her opening the box and fussing about where to put it. She always gets giddy over the small things (drawings and letters and packages), and so I’ve made it a point to find the exact point at which is too big of a small thing. Will my mom, who still sends me money in the mail to buy ice cream to “enjoy the spring weather” ever let me repay her to the full extent she has loved me?

I’ve flown her to Colorado to meet all my babies when they were brand new. On the fourth baby, she arrived, kissed my newborn, then ditched me to go float the river with my husband, her son-in-law. I didn’t mind because I love seeing her have fun. My goal is to see my mother, who has never stopped working, enjoy life to the fullest.
She is the one who let me fly to South America when I was only 17, and then again when I was 19, because she knew I needed to spread my wings. I don’t think she trusted I was necessarily mature enough, but she trusted God, and so she didn’t shut the door out of fear or anxiety.
I learned other languages and culture, and I learned how to take risks. She lived quietly, yet vicariously through me, and I didn’t even consider that in my mind until my own kids were born.
And now that my own kids are growing up, I’m coming to understand how valuable, how impactful, and beautiful is is to have a mom that doesn’t coerce or manipulate her children, but instead loves openly and freely, expecting little in return. She didn’t have a picture in mind all along of who she wanted us to be, so she didn’t set herself up for the disappointment of us growing up and out of reach.
Because of her mindful approach, she now has ten adult children and daughters/sons-in-law who adore her.

I have sung songs for my mom and texted them to her. Two years ago, I recorded the song, A Mother Like You (by JJ Heller) with my kids and sent it to her (you should also look it up and sing it to your own mother if you’re ok at not crying. It took me a few tries.). I’m not sure she’s ever thought I was much of a singer or guitar player, but she likes it when I share my creative endeavors, so I do it anyway. When I was at her house for Easter, we got out the instruments and serenaded her…She pulled out her cell phone and videotaped us–she treasures these moments.
Her refrigerator and walls are plastered with my and my siblings’ art and cartoons–and some of us are closing in on forty. Her shelves hold my 30 year old Barbies and every dish and pinky-sized plastic fruit that came along with the Barbie kitchen in 1993. Who in the world can keep track of itty bitty Polly Pocket and her itty bitty dog? My mom, that’s who. I don’t know of another soul on earth who keeps such meticulous care of her third child’s old toys (sorry to my own third born, it’s rough). She remembers my favorite cookies and cakes and bakes them on my birthday, even though I live 800 miles away and won’t get to taste them.

My mom comes from a line of great moms. I called her mother, my grandma, on the phone several weeks ago, and she was tickled to hear my voice.
“You know,” she said, “I was looking out the window the other day as the mailman was delivering his letters, and I thought to myself, I sure hope there’s a big long letter from Pearl in there.”

To be fair, there was only a small card, but God had answered her wish just the same. A mom is never not thinking about her kids.

Love your mom. Don’t assume someone else will do it for you. Don’t just wave off another week or year before you tell her you are you because of her.
You won’t come close to repaying her for what she’s done.

But I think you should go ahead and try.

The Sins of Seuss

We’ve got a problem.

Here’s where we are now in the world: demonizing Dr. Seuss for being a racist.

Dr. Seuss, who himself was bullied and mistreated as a child for being of German heritage. 

Who hid out, drawing (inaccurate!) pictures of fantastical creatures as a child, inspired by seeing his father work at the zoo.

Who wrote with various pen names, disguising his ancestry to find a bigger audience. I’m not sure banning just a handful of his books is enough.

To begin with, I’m offended he would suggest a mother abandoning her children to go shopping (The Cat in the Hat).

If we’re fair, we should also ban Yertle the Turtle and Marvin K. Mooney, Will You Please Go Now, which may or may not implicate certain unfavorable politicians…and also, Horton the Elephant books, which depict animal cruelty and pro-life sentiments.
Not to leave out Hop on Pop, which speaks of a Mr. Brown and Mr. Black, who are not brown or black and on the very cover two children laughing as they dance on their father’s belly (a father who has not given consent, mind you).

There is Dr. Seuss A to Z, which clearly portrays a man, Uncle Ubb (a man who look suprisingly similar to Hitler), in his underwear, and two naked boys, Willy and Waldo Woo, bathing one another.

In Would You Rather Be a Bullfrog, he poses the question, “Would you rather be a Skinny…or would you rather be a Fat?” In Maybe you should fly a jet! Maybe you should be a vet! Seuss offers ideas on potential grown up jobs for kids: glass blower, mushroom grower, fishbone boner, roller coaster owner. You’ve got to BE someone sooner or later. What if I’m not a fan of choosing skinny or fat? What if I’m a thirty-seven year old who still doesn’t have a real job?

There’s The Foot Book, which brazenly declares a uniqueness between male and female feet. And the most obvious abomination of all, the favorite Green Eggs and Ham, which is a blatant anti-semitic, tormenting, pressure-filled rant on Jews who cannot, according to their religion, violate their conscience by consuming pig flesh.

While I’m feeling bothered, it brings me to the most recent slap in the face: a local school district posting photos of kids and teachers dressing up and pretending to be 100 years old to celebrate 100 days of school. Hello, ageism! Centenarians, you are no longer good for anything except being made fun of on the one hundredth day of school.

Of course I am being satirical, and yet, isn’t this also offensive? A misnomer? In this joke-loving, meme-making world, who is despised more than Donald Trump, the king of satire, the guy who joked about ingesting household cleaner? Ironically, SNL was not censored or canceled for their outrageous and disgusting skit portraying the characters of The Grinch as a threesome in front of children. Some satire approved, some satire, punished.

The double standards never cease: Who is adored more than Michelle Obama, who recited an entire Dr. Seuss book at her college graduation? Should I be offended by celebrities who have voiced audiobook renditions of Seuss–Jason Lee, Joan Cusack, Neil Patrick Harris? I don’t subscribe to their lifestyles–should I ban their Dr. Seuss reading voices in my home? 

I can’t keep up with what’s okay and what’s not. I don’t think it is up to me or you. We cannot endure this be-perfect-or-else-you’ll-pay attitude. We are going to bury ourselves in the process.

Friends, be offended by something that matters.

Be offended by:
Selective abortion of 97% of Down Syndrome babies (eugenics, which is defined as “the science of improving human population by controlled breeding to increase the occurrence of desirable heritable characteristics”). 

Be offended by:
Margaret Sanger, who birthed Planned Parenthood and famously said, “I think the biggest sin there is is bringing a child into this world.”

Be offended by:
School districts pushing toward more mental health and selective curriculum which denigrates parental involvement and elevates the role of unfeeling, money hungry “leaders” who get richer and more powerful by your acquiescence.

Be offended by:
Screen time and the addiction that forms as a result of kids being abandoned by adults to their devices, which may result in temporary quietness, but also is rewiring their brains to be dependent, robotic, depressed and suicidal.

Be offended by:
Your own lack of kindness, your own lack of values, your tendency to point the finger, your self-serving attitude, your pride at being quick to accuse.

These are all a slap in the face of Humanity. These all discriminate and loudly state that CERTAIN PEOPLE ARE LESS VALUABLE THAN OTHERS. We ought to be offended.

I choose to not be offended by moms and dads sitting on their couches, reading about elephants hatching eggs (the world really should be celebrating, if you think about it). Two of my kids learned to read, thanks to one kooky author. They didn’t read between the lines, they never decided to sit on a cactus (no Pat, no! Don’t sit on that!). They have not tried to lure a wild fox into a box to eat ham with them. They have not learned to be racist toward their peers with almond-shaped eyes, nor have they ever assumed a person of color is better suited as a servant.

They have learned (by way of the voice of one Neil Patrick Harris) about the ugliness of greed (The Bippolo Seed). They have learned to love counting (Wacky Wednesday) and memorizing tongue twisters (The Sleep Book and Fox in Socks–the latter a masterpiece–Suess was genius). We’ve spent a fun afternoon trying to recreate strawberry flips and butterscotch ding dang doos (I Am Not Going to Get Up Today).
They have learned that I love them, because I’ll pull them up on my lap and read them a silly book. They’ve learned that I think they are very important to me.

You know what I think? Dr. Seuss was magic. He did more for literacy in America, more for kids and parents than any other author, ever. We ought to be ashamed he’s being crucified for his creative efforts that ushered in a whole era of primary readers and exciting, silly colorful stories. Leave the hilarious and absurd in the hands of the master, Theodor Geisel. He was far better than us at creating an inclusive world.

It should be, it should be, it should be like that.

Victimhood, an American pet

In case you are a headline reader like me, skimming the ever-present news for something of substance, something that is truly “happening” in the world, you’ve surely seen what I have:

Dr. Seuss getting shown the door,
Tiger Woods’ terrible auto accident,
More Covid fear and warnings,
Politicians with their fingers forever pointing and wagging.

I want you to notice what nearly every headline has in common: a victim.
The victim mentality is destroying our country. There’s a good chance you might also consider yourself a victim…of something.

Don’t worry–you aren’t alone. This year has been a tough one, and I speak as a mother who is going on one year of isolation. I am not rolling my eyes over the matter; it has been very discouraging to live in the city with schools shut down except for students held hostage by devices. We’ve been told we are threatening life in general, and so we slinked into our shadowy house to rebuild a semblance of education–shifting work schedules and responsibilities to accommodate our kids’ needs. There are no friends. There is no space.
I may or may not cry on the regular out of frustration.

It takes me back to the days when I dealt with anxiety and depression. When my marriage was two crumbs of a cake, barely something to hold onto, and certainly not something that held any hope. I could blame with the best of them, I could point fingers like any veteran politician.
I thought I was a victim.
A victim of my poor self-worth. A victim, perhaps, of a mental disorder.
Maybe I was tricked into getting married too young. Maybe my parents should have shown me more affection as a child. Maybe I grew up too poor. Maybe my enneagram type, my deadly sin of avarice, makes me more prone to self-pity and doubt.

Still, I am not a victim. We are not victims.

How did we get in this situation? How, as Christ followers, Jesus lovers, do we recognize that the victim mentality is a satanic lie? How do we break free of it?

The root of the problem isn’t as deeply buried as one might think. Finding fault and pointing fingers is as common as the Sunday school story of Adam and Eve.
The first wrong thing they did in the garden had them pointing their fingers.
They were victims, you see–Adam said it was the woman’s fault. Eve said it was the serpent’s fault. But the blame lay squarely on their own shoulders, because God had created them with the special gift of free will.

Nothing has changed–we just have more blame targets these days. I suspect we take to them so easily because we have, more or less, pretended Satan is no longer part of the equation. Satan, whose very name means “accuser” and who, as Jesus tells it, “was a murderer from the beginning, and does not stand in the truth, because there is no truth in him. Whenever he speaks a lie, he speaks from his own nature; for he is a liar, and the father of lies.” (John 8:44)

Wouldn’t such a character love it if we took his lead?

Wouldn’t he get the biggest glory if we lived our lives forever as a victim?
Wouldn’t he find even more glory in this novel idea of cancel culture, where humans apply their victim mentality to every shred of offensive material?
Wouldn’t he just love it if we stack the deck in our–in his–favor?

Jesus, our precious Jesus, had harsh words for the perpetual accuser:
“You are of your father the devil, and you want to do the desires of your father.”

Of course, they killed Him. They cancelled Him right out of the picture. No one likes being told they’re a faker. No one likes being called out for their bullcrap.
Christian, we cannot play a part in this cultural phenomenon, where all have a beef, where all are losers. To do so is to live in opposition to our Creator.

When He chose to deliver the repentant, He didn’t halfway deliver. Let’s not halfway repent. Let’s not keep blame and victimhood as little pets to be fed and coddled.

Here are two things I have found that help keep my path straight as I think about dealing wisely in this upside down world:

  1. Identify and study Biblical examples of victims. In general, the Bible speaks frequently of four categories of true victims: the poor (desolate), the disadvantaged woman (either abandoned or ignored), fatherless children (the orphan), and the stranger (foreigner in the land). There is no mention of color of skin, sexual orientation, mental disorder, enneagram number, etc. To me, this clarifies there is no excuse for me on the basis of such qualifiers. A true victim gains no advantage from being a victim.
    Also, the Bible does not indicate any current news outlet as an expert on true victimhood. However, the Bible is filled with examples of victims that were truly victimized. Certainly the stories are there so we might not be duped in recognizing true neediness versus satanic, accusatory, manipulative victimhood mentality.
  1. Be zealous for what is good. (1 Peter 3:13) A zealot is laser-focused on one thing. Seems like there wouldn’t be room for much else, if I were “zealous for what is good”.
    For me, this begins with keeping my eyes away from worthless things (Psalm 119:37)–which tends to be a lot more than I’d like to admit–so that I have more space to be filled with worthwhile things. This meant a major cleanout when it came to social media use (the Holy Spirit helped me out here–I could never quit any addiction on my own). This also means regular repentance over pride in my life, and humbling myself each day to put the needs of my husband and kids first.

Zealous for good includes looking out for the interests of others, particularly the true victims in this world whom the Lord repeatedly tells us to not ignore: plead the cause of the orphan, defend the rights of the poor (Jeremiah 5:28). These victims rarely, rarely grace the likes of Fox News and CNN. 
In being zealous for what is good, I have submitted myself to ordinary life, even the life that has been happening over the last year. Yes, it has been less than ideal, but it has also been a fantastic lesson in finding contentment in every situation. One can be lonely and one can be joyful. One can cry tears of sadness but still filled with gratitude.

One can live in the victim’s world without pleading victimhood.

Who is wise and understanding among you? Let him show it by his good conduct, by deeds done in humility that comes from wisdom. But if you harbor bitter jealousy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not boast in it or deny the truth. Such wisdom does not come from above, but is earthly, unspiritual, demonic. For where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there will be disorder and every evil practice.

James 3:13-16

 

homeschool: My Tech High

It’s February and I wanted to give an update on homeschool plus an opportunity for any homeschoolers who could benefit from a state-funded program.

You might remember I’m a big advocate for public school–not necessarily the agenda or method of public schooling, but the actual, warm-blooded people who facilitate learning and embrace children as worthy of being taught.

Guys, I miss public school terribly. I miss seeing faces, entire faces of little kids lined up along the brick building, chatting happily before the bell rings. I miss sneaking in the teacher break room and spreading out goodies on the table to surprise them. I miss the librarian, who always asked me how my book writing was coming along. I miss asking how the school secretary’s new grandbaby is doing. I miss picking the boys up after school, their feet flying, racing to see who gets to me first. I miss asking how their day went. I miss smoothing out the rough parts over an afternoon snack. I miss the stories about other students from a child’s perspective. They were learning so much–about people who disagree with them, people with different world views, and how to get along with difficult folks.

I have a boy who takes the dog on a daily walk and he times it so he can walk past the playground during recess…Just so he can get a look at his old schoolmates.

Our local district is back to in-person learning, but the heavy political air and edginess (plus mask, hand sanitizing, and temp-taking) has me still sitting this year out. Recently the district was notified by the health department of a vaccine surplus (amounting to about 200 doses). The email was sent out on a Saturday afternoon: first come, first served. Within hours, school employees had created a traffic jam in Denver and were abandoning their vehicles on the highway to run to the distribution site.

If this is society–where teachers must rely on Saturday emails and folks are willing to cause a car accident to get vaccinated, then I’ll gladly sit this year out.

Back in August, in my intense Google researching that typically leads me down a thousand rabbit trails (yesterday it was indoor greenhouses, mando-cellos, and does Lester Holt have a ponytail?), I stumbled upon something called My Tech High.

Essentially, it is a homeschool supplement program that is state-funded. My Tech High is the middleman for funneling money from the state into the hands of at-home learners. In Colorado, for example, somewhere between $8,000-13,000 is allotted, per student per year, to public schools. When I withdraw my children from school and sign up for an alternative program such as My Tech High, that money is diverted to MTH, which then offers a bevy of online learning resources, tech courses, and customizable project-based classes.
For each of my enrolled kids I get $1,600 to spend on courses and tech. You might be surprised what is allowed and what isn’t: This year so far I’ve paid for Amazon prime, a new guitar, private music lessons, monthly internet service, bath bomb supplies (science), microscope, board games, books, an online algebra course, art supplies, printer, screen printing kit, ski passes, Kiwi crates, skis, and (*gulp*) three drones. (Don’t buy boys drones, seriously. The biggest money pit, next to broken bones.) I’m thinking of buying a greenhouse and grow lamps with the funds I have left.

We submit a learning log once a week–a simple, easy milestone that is approved by one of MTH’s “homeroom” teachers. Other than that, schooling is up to us. I have them do math every morning (free access to Greg Tang worksheets and Edmentum learning path). On the days I don’t want them near a computer we explore, ski, play music or games, read, assemble projects, work on clay animation, paint, sketch, write a family newspaper, etc. On the days I don’t mind computer work, they do digital animation (Luke has a wacom table and Frames app from MTH), edit drone videos (we have an Adobe subscription through MTH), log on to BrainPop!, watch Generation Genius or Mystery Science, do math drills on Imagine Math, Minecraft education, etc. Every quarter I have them do an online assessment for math, language arts, and reading–again, through MTH online resources.

Obviously, MTH is probably still making a killing on their state voucher, supplemental homeschool model. But most every homeschooler I know feels a smidge indignant over the idea that other kids are regularly educated thanks to their tax money, and MTH is a great equalizer in that respect. If you don’t care about the funding of your local school because you homeschool anyway, this is your chance to get some money back.

This is not available in every state, but I do think with the education system as divided as it is now–this is the future of public school.

I think there will be some enterprising people who come up with an a la carte system of schooling where education becomes more of a tax-payers-pay-for-what-you-want. At least, that is if politicians open their eyeballs to what the people want.
I’m really fortunate I happened upon MTH when I did, because I had no clue how I was going to school my kids. I just knew I wasn’t going to make them wear masks all day in school, keep six feet away from other kids at all times, and pretend it was completely normal, as if learning wasn’t hindered in any way. 

Don’t get me wrong–I still love and miss public school. I’m so indecisive about what to do next year. 

Public school is increasingly more humanistic and off-putting with their constant contradictions: “We welcome EVERYONE regardless of color, class, behavior, experience, orientation…We are TOLERANT.” —then they send out emails suggesting how I celebrate the Superbowl and Valentine’s Day on the weekend. Too much of minding everyone’s business but their own.

On the other hand, there is a dangerous attitude in homeschooling that declares, “We are individualists; it’s OUR privilege and duty to raise outstanding, albeit sheltered children who will one day be successful.” –this mindset entirely ignores the crucial, social element that growing up in the world presents.

But I am living in this weird space between worlds, and often the tension clues me in to what I need to focus on: keeping things as normal as possible for my kids. They need to keep learning, but they need to keep interacting with others.

So do I.

MTH offers similar programs in Colorado, Utah, Arkansas, Tennessee, and Idaho.