Author Archives: PearlS

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. 

Cut him in two.

Well, Covid caught me, and that while I was bragging about minding my own business.

Suffice to say it got me pretty bad, in the way that you’d expect it. Fever, sickness, cough, loss of senses. Dragging on like any old flu.
But here’s the thing about it–I don’t think there was a thing I could’ve done differently in order to avoid it.

This hasn’t come as any revelation–in fact, it’s a bit what I expected.
I didn’t need a test–I didn’t get the sniffles and let my brain go into immediate lockdown mode–better make sure! It’s only responsible! 

I didn’t sign up for contact tracing, didn’t spend any time hunting down the culprit.
I didn’t need a better mask, because I wasn’t breathing near or around people. I’m a natural introvert. It just happened in my usual sanguine, solitary life.

I’m not trying to make light of it. Who knows if I’m even out of the woods yet (tho I hope I am, of course. It’s been two full weeks and even tacos drenched in hot sauce don’t wake up my taste buds).
The point I hope to make is this: I got sick, and there is no one to blame for it.

You may hear stories on the news of people who have lost family members or dear ones. This is tragic, but as is typical, tragedy often gets exploited on television. Feelings explode in the spotlight, a visceral mourning unnecessarily (and prematurely) provoked.
There’s always a bone to pick, always glares at the supermarket and nasty comments directed at the irresponsible, the careless. If you had cared more, this wouldn’t have happened. If you weren’t so selfish, less people would be dying. It’s going to take all of us behaving in the same way to stop a pandemic.

I’ve noticed the next level of shaming in the works: the proud, public, responsible vaccine-ers who will save us all with their forethought and global-mindedness. UNICEF urges me to hashtag my vaccine photos with my neighbor-loving reason I got the shot.
Perhaps this is born of a desire to see life get back to normal. I would buy this excuse, except the majority of these vaccine-proud don’t appear to be the elderly or at-risk. They are folks who  have a great shot at contracting the virus and defeating it with their God-given antibodies.
I have my doubts that the hashtagging crowd actually cares or has ever cared about lonely people in nursing homes.
If we truly cared about them, we wouldn’t dare cut the line in front of them.

With all the spare time lying on the couch (this is a bit of a covid homeschool joke), I’ve been thinking on how society is bumping around in the dark, scratching and scrambling to find a light source. There is rage. There is malice. There is plenty of mock compassion with an underbelly of self-righteousness.

Each party has a flickering, dim, battery-powered candle that casts shadows of doubt on the person holding it.
“We need unity!” politicians chant as they rip away the rights and livelihoods of the masses.
“End brutality!” shout protestors as they strip law enforcement of their means to protect the innocent.
“Listen to science!” scream the uber-careful, the same ones who once valiantly saved the environment by eschewing plastic straws (but now retch at the sight of a fellow human not wearing their disposable mask).
“Don’t let them silence your voice!” warn the clairvoyant Christian type, forgetful of how Jesus himself was obedient to death, even (silent) death on a cross.

Where is the wisdom in all of this? Where, actually, is the light switch that will erase the shadows and all the dimwittedness that surrounds us?
King Solomon was, as any Jeopardy-loving, Bible-reading gal knows, the wisest guy in all history. He admitted to God he was a “little child” and “didn’t know how to carry out [his] duties”. Solomon asked the Lord for wisdom to govern his people and to distinguish between right and wrong.

I admire this little child. I love his plea for help. Even more, I love how God praised him and gave him wisdom that spilled over and enriched the lives of his people.
God told Solomon,
“Since you have asked for wisdom, and not for long life or wealth for yourself, nor have you asked for the death of your enemies” (this covers about all of the dimwitted, battery-operated lights), “I will give you what you ask: a wise and discerning heart.”

A wise and discerning heart: how useful in these questionable times!
Solomon’s most famous case as a judge came when two women stood before him, arguing over the true maternity of one baby. As he ordered the sword brought down to (allegedly) split the baby in two (half to be given to each woman), the true mother begged him not to kill her child, but to give it to the other woman.
“No!” screeched the imposter, “Cut him in two!”

Cut him in two, cut him in two.

The dimwitted world wants everything demolished if they cannot have what they want. If the rules be arbitrary (and they are), let no one have justice.

Solomon, in his wisdom, could see this clearly. He spotted a crack in the second woman’s integrity. He read the between-the-lines story, the gap where made-up responsibility can’t block out the pure hatred that lurks beneath.

If we listen close, we can hear the same tune today:

If I can’t have my health, if my loved ones might die, then no one deserves to live.
If I can’t be safe, no one deserves to be safe.

Solomon said,

“Give the living baby to the first woman. Do not kill him; she is his mother.”

Friends, please listen to some otherworldly wisdom: 

The anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God. (James 1:20)

Truth doesn’t spring off the lips of liars. Justice does not come from making a scene. Compassion for the sick and vulnerable doesn’t sprout from a heart filled with pride or resentment.
Think more deeply than your surface-level inclination. Filter what you are hearing through the lens of what is truly true, not just what sounds halfway fair.

Wisdom is a scarcely-sought commodity. Turn the light, the all-illuminating Light–on.

Brothers and sisters, stop thinking like children. In regard to evil be infants, but in your thinking be adults.
1 Cor. 14:20