Nah-tivity Nonsense

I am constantly irritated amused amazed by the stuff I read on the Internet. That it only really started in the form we now know nearly 20 years ago and people have taken to it -- and complaining on it -- without reservation...is, like, wow!

We have a generation of people, some call the Millennials. I see them more as the Baby Boomers 2.0. They seem to complain about, er, um, question everything.

I came across a photo the other day about a nativity set someone had at her house.

She brought up the idea that white entitlement or privilege was prevalent in Christmas stuff, that her nativity scene figurines were blond and that made them from Ohio (not sure how many blonds live in Ohio, but idle grass...) She claims that they are miscolored because Jesus was Jewish...and this is apparently a #christmasfail.

Three people agreed with her -- with vehemence. One even complained how she'd been on a quest for a "non-blond" more "culturally accurate" set. She promised to get two, if she found one.

...

First of all, none of us was there. There are no photos, pictures, drawing, paintings of Jesus and his parents at that time period. Why couldn't they be blond? What is that "white privilege" or "entitlement"? Blond people exist today. Who's to say they weren't the coloring of the first people and the rest changed pigmentation as people moved away from the Garden area? No one knows what color came first. And who really cares? At the end of the day, we are all people with different pigmentation. That's it. No colors. Just people.

I know. I know. Spoken like a true white person.

Sigh.

Second of all, the person in question is white. Or, as I prefer to say, Caucasian. What gives? Why is she "white bashing" when that's her own background? It seems to me that a person who bashes her own skin tone is just trying to be part of the crowd, beating the tired drum of the liberals of our country. She has no credibility.

Thump. Thump. Sigh.

And third of all, who cares? I know I already added that to my "first of all," but it bears repeating. I am white and my family is white. Not one of us is blond, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy a nativity set that is blond...and white...and in a wooden building -- eek! -- (because they apparently used a cave). The idea is that a nativity scene -- with a little baby Jesus -- points us to the true meaning of the holiday. Does it really matter if he's black, white, brown, green with polka dots? Not really. It's something we bring out once-a-year for about a month or so. We add it to the other decorations and gaze at it occasionally. We don't worship it. We don't think it's the be-all-to-end-all. It's just part of the scenery.

And if having a more culturally appropriate set is important to your family because culturally you are different, then kudos to you. But if you're white and your set is white, enjoy it for what it is: a small reminder that Christmas is a gift, a blessing, a privilege in itself -- not another time to complain and jump on the liberal millennial band wagon.

Your whiteness precludes you from that.

Let's just be people. Together. Celebrating. Worshiping. Without reservation.

That's Heaven.

Just Breathe...

Okay, in an effort to breathe new life -- or maybe just some life -- back into my lovable blog, I began to think again about posts. That's what it's all about: Thinking about blogging...and thinking in blog posts.

Seems odd, right?

Early on, when I was blogging nearly daily, the trend had not really caught on with anybody, except us "cool kids."

But then Twitter happened. And blogging seemed to be a lot more work because why write an entire post about something when you can summarize it in 140 characters. And once you start thinking in 140-character bursts, well, you basically rewire your brain.

Am I right?

Not necessarily.

I enjoyed Twitter for about a minute or two. (It was an odd world. Odder now than then.)

Then Facebook happened. I resisted at first. It seemed another odd and silly place. But, as anyone who has ever watched even one episode of Star Trek knows, resistance is futile.

Facebook is the killer of blogdom. I'm convinced of that. It should be a helpful aid or another platform whereby you can share your blog...

But it's not.

It's easy.

It's addictive.

And so my brain began to think in longer-than-140-characters moments, but still shorter-than-actual-blogpost moments.

Yet, I've stumbled on and tried to continue my blog. I love doing it. It's such a great way to keep myself writing daily (or thereabouts) and an even better way to clear some of the "clutter" in my noggin.

So, today, this very morning, my brain thought up a post. I thought again in a blog post. And I was exhilarated and decided to sit down immediately and write it out. But I had to write this explanation first, which may have taken my brainpower and time briefly.

Sigh.

Still in all, here I am breathing some new life into my old friend.

In Times Like These...

I love words. 

I love the way they fall together to create sentences, forming stories or poems or songs. I love to hear the jingle of the letters’ sounds together – sometimes making onomatopoeia. I loved teaching my children how to read and process the sounds together to make words. I loved sharing my favorite words with them: saunter, facetious, whimsical.

But words don’t define me. I am not a collection of static letters or sounds. That’s when words lose their meaning.

I am a living, breathing, ever-changing human. I am not what people call me, either in race or religion or creed. My beliefs are my own, not formed by a stereotype or what I am told they are or should be. They are mine. And the basic core of my soul stays the same, but my thoughts are fluid as I observe and grow and process all that is around me.

When we allow our televisions and newspapers and online sources to tell us what to believe about who we are and what we are, it’s time to UNPLUG. When we listen and believe only what we are told, we have given up the power of words. We have allowed fear to own us.

So many people are complaining about the violence we hear and read about…constantly…the “ugliness” that is our world. I didn’t see it personally. I only read about it. What if it wasn’t as bad as described? What if “catastrophic” was an exaggeration of the events…made to cause fear and panic and anxiety in me? Catastrophic has always existed…and recent events are nothing new. And, yet, losing one person is always tragic to me. Losing three…even more so. Those people have their own people, who knew and loved and cherished them. And now they are without them. That makes me incredibly sad.

But fearful?

Instead of concentrating on what’s happening and being afraid, what if we looked around us at the world we can actually see? Look at the multitudes of flowers all around us, full of color and blooming in the final weeks of summertime. Listen to the giggles we hear from children running on a playground, enjoying their freedom and the innocence of just being. Watch a family or group of friends laugh, enjoying a dinner together.

Why can’t we grab hold of these truths? 

They are RIGHT. IN. FRONT. OF. OUR. EYES. 

They are real and happening right now. 

Why can’t we let go of what the media wants us to hear, to believe, to own. Realize that we may not have “gotten our way” in the election, but then neither did half the country in the last two elections…and we all made it through just fine. What if we accept what is and have faith that goodness exists and that we’ll all be okay…goodness is in children, in furry animals, in chocolate, in a drive through farmland, in a walk through a city, in the rising and setting of the sun. What if we believed in the good of mankind again – in those we know and see and love around us? What if we “agree to disagree” and go back to making cookies for each other or sharing ice cream cones or game nights or movies together? What if we ONLY try to make the small sphere we live in a better place for our children to live and grow up in, refuse to do anything else or read anything else or fear anymore?

What else can we do? Really?

For better or worse, this is the world we live in. We only see and feel and hear a small sphere of it, a mere sliver of all that is out there. Why not concentrate on that for a change, count our blessings and realize that, yes, we are sinful, but through God’s mercy, we are good? We are safe. We are alive. And we are free.

Then our words will be meaningful again. Because their power will be ours – not the media’s or government’s. Just ours.

It starts with a simple phrase: I love you, my friend. Not because we are the same, but because we are different.

I am NOT "white" or "conservative" or "hateful" or "mean." I am just Susie.

Perspectives

My parents always taught us to look at both sides of something. Sometimes that meant playing the "devil's advocate," but it was still an important lesson. Things aren't always one-sided, even if we want -- or hope for -- them to be.

This was an important tool to have in my toolbox when I became a reporter. It's easy to want to make the narrative fit the issue. But is the narrative truth...or at the very least, the whole truth? How much braver to look at an issue and face that it might be different than we wanted -- or hoped.

No one is perfect. Everyone has some skeletons in his/her closet.

A diamond has multiple sides, and the sun hits each side differently, causing a different amount of sparkle and shine and light. Just the same, people have different ways of seeing the world -- or even an event.

None is wrong...just different.

Maybe when we finally realize and grasp this, the world will become a better place?

Maybe.

Worded Wednesday

From Ethan's "2012 Art Collection."

Wordless Wednesday

CITIZENSHIP DAY!!!!

Today was a HUGE day for our family -- for Stuart, specifically.

Today is the day that Stuart became an American!

It was something I had said I would never force him to do when we first married. It had to be something he wanted. I didn't mind paying for a Green Card every 10 years.

But Stuart said he wanted to do it, to "belong." And he wanted to vote, to have a voice behind the taxes he pays. He said he would only do it when he could say the Oath and mean it.

And that day had come.

It was a beautiful -- if cold -- day! And we were all so excited and nervous as we headed into Philadelphia. And we were SO proud of him!

Happy New Year!!

Happiest of Happy New Years! We are SO glad that it's 2017!

To say that 2016 was not our family's favorite-most year does not adequately cover it. But to say that God carried us and strengthened us and kept us going through it is an absolute blessing and truth!

Between Emily's extended illness and emergency appendectomy and my breast cancer and Stuart starting back to college and still traveling...and the boys being hungry ALL the time...and medical bills that are drowning us...

But through it all, God was there...and still is. We know that He who controls the universe hasn't forgotten us.

A recap in photos of 2016...and see? We were even smiling.



2016: Year in Pictures