Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Good Enough


Dear LORD,

Happy birthday to me!

As my daughters exclaim: "You're so old, Papa! Why are you so old?"

Another year, LORD; we made it through another year where I did 'stuff.'

Thank You, LORD, for seeing me past another year, touching lives during it, guiding some toward you. 

LORD, take the least of these into Your hands, the most hurting, and hold them tightly to You, right up to Your heart, and love them. Love them through their hurts, love them after the hurt is gone, love them today, with all their problems, love them tomorrow, while all their problems have still not gone away.

Make me good enough, LORD, to love them and to give them hope, and to point them to you. Help me be good enough so that they may be saved.

I ask this in the Name of Jesus, the Christ.

Amen.


Thursday, February 26, 2015

Welcome, my friend, to the machine

My wife told me a story.

Yesterday, she was leading an Atrium class of 5-7 year olds at the St. Michael Parish school, when in walked the Fire Marshall, escorted by a school official. He looked about the room, then left.

Okay, class, teaching moment.

What did this teach us?

It taught us, that on private property, a government official can enter without permission, and do his undeclared business.

Did the school official take my wife aside beforehand so she could prepare the children for this intrusion?

No.

"But," my wife asked, "maybe the fire marshall was afraid I might try to hide something ..."

Okay. WHAT?

If this official suspected something, such as illegal active (and okay, like what illegal activity?) then he presented a warrant, right?

RIGHT?

No, he did not.

Here is what your children are learning in schools, public and private: that its government, our government, can trespass at will and at their whim.

And who's teaching this to our children? Our teachers. By remaining silent, and not saying: 'Excuse me, sir: I am responsible for these children and am currently presenting a lesson. You, sir, must wait until this lesson is over, or you, sir, are in violation of the law."

Instead of that, and allowing this to happen, we: you, me, our teachers, are training our children that the government is right and we are wrong, and we must suborn our rights and freedoms so the government may do whatever it likes whenever it likes and not have to provide justification nor follow due process.

Why do I homeschool?

The fire marshall shows up at my door then he (yes, he) and I are going to have a conversation, and he is going to go away and return with a warrant, and I, in the meantime am contacting the HSLDA.

Here's the problem.

You are not homeschooling, are you?

When did the fire marshall walk in on your kids today at school? Will your kids tell you? Mine didn't. Will your teachers tell you? Do you even know (all) your teachers' names? You're entrusting the lives of your children to your teachers who are, yes, good people, God-fearing people, doing the best that they can... but it's not their house. These are not their kids. And they have an unhealthy respect for The Law Man Carrying Out His Official Duties.

We don't need Obama, nor Bush, to destroy our Nation. All we have to do is entrust our children to the State and kowtow to it.

The Fault is Not in our Stars, dear Brutus: the fault is ours.

And our government, no matter who is at its head, is not going to save us. We, you and me, dear readers, are.

I march. I write. I homeschool, because I love my God, first, my family, next, and I especially love my Country, 'tis of thee, and for which it stands.

Oh, and p.s.: and the education? 'Common core,' which is not fostering thought but cranking out resources with a predicted set of usable skill sets (see the film 'Building the Machine')? And sexual education for children, now 10 years old? So they get to ponder their sexual orientation and to be ready for their sexual activity now, without need for your guidance but with the guidance/pressure of their peers?

Don't get me started.

Yes, I homeschool, and my children are not lacking in social skills and poise. No, in fact: my children are socially-better adjusted than the 13 year old in my daughter's ballet class taking about what she did with her boyfriend or the 14 year old who's scared about what she has to do at school so as not to be ostracized ...

So, they are not learning those 'social skills,' And what they are learning is more than just to be another brick in the wall.

Please. We, you and I, can make a difference. You're too busy to homeschool? I know a single mom who home-schools. You both have to work? Look at how much money you are spending on your children to make them latchkey kids entrusted to daycares or private school, and figure out how much more money you'd make with one income-provider so the other can stay-at-home and not spend all that money to cast your children aside. Because, guess what? A six-month old child in daycare so the mom can work? That's what we're doing now. Today.

And daycare? More than 90% of them do not meet Federal safety standards (Ha! 'Federal' safety standards! A joke! But at least they are a start, and daycares don't even meet those!)

How about later with (expensive) private schools, that do not pay their teachers above the poverty line, either, by the way, and when you do that, your children are no longer yours: they are the State's, they are your overworked daycare provider's, they are the what culture in private schools, exactly?

The drug culture's. And the snobs' culture's. Do you listen to how cruel private school kids are to others and to themselves? (Sad to say: Catholic school are the worst, or the 'best', at producing snobs and monsters eaten up with pride, from what I've seen). And you want to put your children into that environment and pay for the privilege of losing your children to that culture, that religion?

What religion is this?

You remember school, right? That religion. The teachers are tyrants, but ... the other kids are much, much worse.

But not your little Johnny nor Jane.

Because you're raising them up right, right?

How many hours a day do you spend with your kids? How many hours does the school have them?

Then when they get home, do you spend any time with them? Or is it supper on the go for you, and 'just leave me alone, I've had a long day. Go to your room and text your friends or surf the web unsupervised or something, okay'?

This is my plea to you.

Just one hour a day.

Okay, that's way too much.

Then the whole family at dinner, and ban the phones. You sit, you eat, you talk with each other. Start there.

Then read to your children. The Bible, sure, or the books that they're reading at school. Aloud. You'll learn a lot. Have them read. Have them reason about what they read. You'll learn some more.

And it will be pulling teeth, probably pulling yours, right? and they are going to whine and complain. Tough. Your turn to read. Read. Talk. Think. Agree, disagree, debate, have a real conversation.

That opens the door for them: that they are allowed to think and that they can talk with you.

Wow.

Well, it's a start.

Please: take this start, for your children's sake.

And, I've seen this, when your children start to think, and start to believe what they believe, not believe what they are told ... then your children start to save other children out there.

There are so many lost children out there, getting straight-As at school, and then you wonder why she snapchatted herself nude to her boyfriend, or got so drunk (or high) at the (unsupervised) party at 14, and had sex with how many upstanding boys on the football team? And you'll never find that out until it's all over the school and she kills herself, or does something else, or doesn't tell you or anyone.

And this is not happening just in Stubenville ... this is happening in the school you are sending your children to ... just in your case, it doesn't make the news, see, so it's okay, right?

It's not okay for my children... nor is it okay for yours, either, right?

So, start the conversation with your kids, every day. Not about this, 'cause that's just weird. Just talk, every day, about school, about work, about what happened today, about what's important in your life, for you, about what's important in their lives, for them.

Please.

"We hold these rights to be self-evident." Do you know what these rights are? Do you know what they mean? Do you know what they are worth?

Friday, January 9, 2015

Home, Home!


I think I'm living on Midway Island time, which starts the inquiry of if I were to move to Midway Island, for some reason ... nuclear winter? global warming? ... then would I live on Connecticut time? So, I have no home, then, because wherever I am, I am always six-seven hours off.

So, then, perhaps Antarctica, where it is always day, and always night, but then there is a society there, there are rules there, there is time there.

Homesteading, like the parents of the little girl of the snow, moving out to Alaska and living there. Claiming the land, furrowing it, planting potatoes the first year and then seeing what we can grow year over year. Trees, pigs, cows, chickens, keeping them (and us) warm. Then, is it an animal farm? Or do we grow vegetables? Fruits? Figs! Figs! and Persimmons! Figs and Persimmons!

Where, and what, is home for you? What does it feel like to be home?

Saturday, December 20, 2014

Roast Chicken, a recipe de ma chère fille, Elena Marie


  1. Brine chicken for 24 hours (we just use 1/3 cup salt in the brine)
  2. Make sauce: 1 stick of butter, lots of mustard (EM: 'uh, at least 5 squirts'), you can add: spices: pepper, basil, thyme, a little oregano, parsley. Cover the chicken completely in the sauce.
  3. Preheat oven to 375°F, cook chicken, covered (not sealed) in foil, for 2 hours
  4. After an hour an a half, peel potatoes and quarter or chunk them, put them in the pan (that's right, into the drippings from the chicken).
  5. After the two hours (that is thirty minutes after you put in the potatoes), uncover, cook for another 1/2 hour to crisp, increasing the temperature to 400°F
Me: Elena, really? All those extra spices in the sauce? I thought it was just butter and mustard.
EM: Eh, you could do it that way, too, if you want.

So, there you have it: the world's yummiest chicken recipe (I didn't put in the spices into the sauce myself. EM: see?). Goes wonderfully with green salad with mixed in dried cranberries, black olives, and anchovies. Or you could serve with a hot vegetable, such as asparagus spears.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Eight Months

Dear LORD,

Thank You for this day coming up to the end of this month of October, the tenth month of the year and completing the eighth month of my employment.

Thank You for giving me my family. Please watch over my daughters as they visit their auntie in California.

Thank You for giving me my work. Please bless me with it and make me productive and helpful. Please bless it and my coworkers, drawing it and them closer to perfection into Your Divine Love.

LORD, Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done. Not what I want but what You will.

I ask this in the Name of Jesus, the Christ.

Amen

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Friends: Treasures on Earth

Dear LORD,

Thank You for today.

Thank You for giving me this leadership role on the job, and thank You for helping me to grow into it.

LORD, thank You for granting me strength and perseverance these days. Please help me always to worship You, to cherish my family, and to do well wherever You need me. Help me to do good and help me to avoid evil.

My little Elena Marie is growing up . Please be with her as she struggles along with her changing mind and body. Keep her heart in Your care. Help my little Isabel Marie, and myself, and my wife to eat what is right and healthy and to do so in moderation.

Please be with Diane's parents as they visit. Make our home a welcome one, a place of peace and joy. Please be with her brothers back in the Philippines and also with my extended family and friends, treasures You have sent me on this Earth.

Help me to treasure these gifts You have sent me here and help me to treasure the gifts You lay up in Heaven for those who love, serve, and adore You. Help me and all those who seek You find You and love You in Your glory!

I ask this through Jesus, the Christ.

Amen

Friday, June 20, 2014

This is poor Starbucks service

Dear Starbucks,

Thank you for the three, no, four, "I'm sorry"s I just received from your customer-facing, and management, partners at the Crowne Starbucks at 307, Rockville, MD today.

I am not going to provide you the full address of the store. You are capable of looking that up, aren't you?

Thank you for saying

"I'm sorry"

instead of serving me one of your delicious tomato-mozzarella sandwiches on a Friday.

All the alternative sandwiches you had ... they all, every single one of them, had meat in them.

Thank you for not providing a vegie sandwich alternative on a Friday, or, on everyday, to your customers who choose to abstain from meat, or who cannot eat meat, for religious or for other reasons.

Thank you for, when I presented my $10 coupon, with a redemption code right on there, that I received for Fathers' day, thank you for saying "I'm sorry" instead of honoring the coupon.

Thank you for that.

Thank you, especially, for your POS partner looking at it helplessly for a while, then her calling her training partner, and him looking helplessly for awhile.

His quote of the day, "Uh, I don't know how to do this."

So he calls the managing partner.

She looks at it for a while. She doesn't give the excuse quote. No, she tells me:

"It needs a redemption code."

I show her the redemption code.

"No, you have to go online and get us a barcode. We can't do this." (emphasis mine)

So, my family got me a certificate. $10. It has a redemption code.

For Fathers' Day.

And Starbucks took ten minutes to process this order to tell me "I'm sorry" four times, one for the meat-only sandwich options, and one, each time for their inability to process my, hello, Fathers' Day coupon, and then the final not-"I'm sorry" for saying I should have done something that I already (verifiably) did.

Take away

I'm wondering, for Starbucks, how much does an "I'm sorry" cost them. I'm not wondering how much it cost the megalithic-Starbucks. I know how much it costs them.

Nothing. Business at the 307 Rockville Starbucks is on the rise. Their "I'm sorry" costs them negative.

I'm wondering, for Starbucks, how much each of those "I'm sorry"s cost each of those customer-facing partners.

Again, I know the answer to that, too:

Nothing. They said, "I'm sorry" which means "no, tough luck," and they went on with their day, totally unaffected. They aren't sorry.

I wish they actually were sorry when they said "I'm sorry" for me. It would have made me feel a tiny-teensy bit better.

You know what would have made me feel good? As a Starbucks customer? A Starbucks "partner"?

Service.

And honoring my tendered payment, for goods I actually didn't want, but I settled for, because, hm, I was hungry, and Starbucks is supposed to be effective in meeting their customer needs efficiently.

Starbucks. I have a question for you. I have a picture of your store front. I have the original receipt. And I have a really pissed off attitude, and I have a cell phone number and email address.

What are you going to do about this?

What are you going to do to train your store employees (not partners, because I saw no initiative that a partner would take. But I did get four "I'm sorry"s so that makes it all okey-dokey in their book. Not in mine), so that they deliver customer service instead of delivering excuses to customers?

What are you going to do to make this one pissed-off customer (again, not partner, because I do not feel included in your service, I felt very much kicked to the curb) a little bit less pissed off at you?

Served. Ball is in your court, Starbucks. How are you going to return to serviceable standing?