Christmas Charity

Do you feel that urge to reach into your wallet at Christmas-time to offer support for homeless people, poverty-stricken children, families with a parent in prison?  I do. 

I'm pleased to recommend two charities to you.  These are not the only options at this time of year, but my wallet is thin so I have to keep my list short.  The first is the Salvation Army.  You've probably seen them at the mall, the grocery, or the Walmart parking lot ringing a bell, singing a carol, and standing next to a bright red collection bucket.  The Salvation Army is a $2.1 billion a year enterprise with a chief executive officer who makes $13,000 a year.  No, that's not a misprint.  Compare that to the $450,000 a year salary of Marsha Evans who heads up the American Red Cross and you get a quick understanding of how it is that the Salvation Army maintains an astonishing 84% flow-through rate of contributions applied to charitable services.

The Salvation Army commandeered 24 buildings to provide a million square feet of space for the donations of Americans to the disaster relief at the World Trade Center.  Trucks lined up by the hundreds with sandwiches, food for the rescue dogs, cases of water, and thousands of bottles of eye drops. 

With 9,222 centers and 45,000 employess coast to coast the Salvation army is best known for its work with the homeless, the addicted and the poor.  It also acts as the probationary arm for county judges in Florida (up to 50,000 people on probation annually report to Army staff.)  It sponsors summer camps reaching over 156,000 kids and about 100,000 kids drop by Army centers and boys and girls clubs to swim, shoot pool, or do homework.  Add in work done in nursing homes, prisons and hospitals and the number of Americans directly touched by the Salvation Army last year grows to 38,000,000.  That's about one in eight.

So I give my blood to the Red Cross, but my money goes to the Salvation Army.

The second charity I support at this time of year is Prison Fellowship's Angeltree program.  Prison Fellowship is headed by former white house aid Chuck Colson of Watergate fame.  (And yes, even after all this time he has not repented of being a Republican, but I support him anyway.)  After his two year prison term ended, this man whom Mike Wallance once referred to as one of the coldest, hardest-headed men in Washington began a ministry that reaches back to other men and women still behind bars.  At Christmas time the Angeltree arm of the ministry provides Christmas gifts to the children of the incarcerated.  The gifts are purchased by people like me, then delivered to the child on behalf of that parent.

Given the dismal statistical outcomes for children of inmates, it's important to me to mitigate the horror, pain, loss and stigma of having a parent in prison even in a small way by making sure these kids are remembered at Christmas time.

What do you do for charity?  Do you believe that charities work?  Or do they simply make people like you and me feel good about ourselves without making a real difference in the lives of the people they serve?  Given the recent legislative penchant for slashing welfare budgets, what role do you see traditional charities performing over the next quarter century?  Should faith-based charities be allowed to work with public agencies to serve the needy population that's being cut off from public support?  Which is more effective publicly sponsored welfare programs or private charities?

Is God Republican or Democrat?

I had the opportunity to listen to All Things Considered on NPR this afternoon.  They were gleefully discussing the recent faux pas of Senate Majority leader (for now) Trent Lott of Mississippi.  Last week at a 100th birthday party for the curmudgeonly old Strom Thurman, Lott remarked that the country would have been better off had Thurman won his 1948 presidential campaign.  Since that compaign was waged on the basis of "states rights" which were code words for continued segragation, Lott's remarks have been interpreted as a Freudian slip exposing his underlying racism.

That may or may not be the case.  He may have simply been exposing his abysmal ignorance of history.  Or he may have been attemting to praise the Senatorial accomplishments of the Strom Thurman he worked with after he himself came to Congress many years after Thurman's failed campaign.  In any event, the remarks were unfortunate and have been the cause of much analysis and speculation about Lott's position as Senate Majority Leader.  I'm not a good guessor about such things.  I have thought each week for the past several that Clay was about to be evicted from Survivor, but he's still living on the beach.

One of the callers to the program wanted to know if this incident is important because underneath it all Republicans are essentially racist in their politics and personal conviction.  Frankly, since the Republicans have loudly proclaimed themselves to be the upholders of morality in contrast to the sinful Democrats, it gives me some pleasure that they may have to squirm a bit over this one.  However, I don't believe that it necessarily makes all Republicans racist is one of thier number is exposed to be so any more than I believe it necessarily makes all Democrats adulterous that one of theirs got caught with ... well, you were there, you know about the cigar and the thong panties.

Once I get over my fit of giggles at the Republican predicament, I return to my long held opinion.  God is neither Republican nor Democrat.  There are some Republican issues which strike me as morally responsible and some Democratic issues which strike me the same way.  Neither party has a lock on character or the lack thereof.  We are only surprised by the revelation of naughtiness if we've somehow bought into the propoganda that particular party membership brings immunity to the temptations common to man.

The Twelve Days After Christmas -

On the first day after Christmas, my true love and I had a fight
So I chopped the pear tree down, and burned it just for spite.
And with a single cartridge, I shot that blasted partridge,
That my true love gave to me.

On the second day after Christmas, I pulled on the old rubber gloves
And very gently wrung the necks of both the turltedoves.
The third day after Christmas, my mother caught the croup
I had to use the three french hens to make some chicken soup.

The four calling birds were a big mistake, for their language was obscene
The five golden rings were completely fake, they turned my fingers green.

On the sixth day after Christmas, the six laying geese wouldn't lay
So I packed the whole flock off to the ASPCA
On the morning of the seventh what a mess I found
All seven of the swimming swans had drowned

The eighth day after Christmas, I was a mental wreck
So I wrapped the eight maids a milking, nine ladies dancing, ten pipers piping, 'leven lords a leaping, twelve drummers drumming ...

(Okay, I kept one of the drummers)

And I sent them back - collect.

I told my true love, we are through, love, and I said in so many words - furthermore, your Christmas gifts were for the birds.

(I don't know the author of this lyric, it's a song I learned in Junior High that remains one of my seasonal favorites.)

We did some of our Christmas shopping yesterday.  Several years back, Tim said, "Honey, when I was a kid, I got clothes for Christmas every year, and I always felt let-down.  Let's not do that to our kids, lets just give them a toy even if it's just one toy, that they will be excited about and play with."

This year, we looked around our home and noticed that it looks like we've been invaded by the bleeding toy brigade.  So we broke our vow.  We are giving them "dumb old clothes" for Christmas.  But, you know what, that's what our kids asked for.  How's that for a shocker?  Here we've been feeling all proud of ourselves for "doing it right" and all along we've been doing the same thing Tim's parents did.  We've been deciding based on our own childhood experience what would best please our kids instead of looking at them and giving them gifts tailored to them as individuals.

Gift giving looks so easy on the commercials.  Buy this toy, that sweater, those cd's/DVD's and the home entertainment system to go with them.  Don't overlook the camera you need to record the moments when those sleepy-eyed kids tear into their packages.  And if you really love her, give her diamonds.

In real life, as with almost everything that the commercials get wrong, gift giving takes more thought, more work, and less money than the retailers would like us to believe.  One of the best Christmas gifts I've heard of for children is the year that my cousin spent a month or more in her basement sewing a wardrobe of costumes.  She picked up the fabrics on clearance after Halloween and gave her daughters the gift of imagining themselves princesses, cowgirls, and adventurers.  She used velcro fastenings that were easily adjustable as the girls grew and now, years later, they still talk about that as the best gift they ever received.  Total monetary investment?  Approximately $60 divided among three girls.

Last year, my aunt worked with her grandchildren and for Christmas the kids recited the Christmas story from the books of Luke and Matthew and the poem "The Night before Christmas" as a gift to their parents.

I remember a few of the gifts I received when I was a child in my parents' home.  But, the most of what I remember is the sheer fun of Christmas.  My Dad was Santa.  His greatest regret is that his children don't always spend Christmas under his roof so he can continue to be Santa.  He played the game in a way that we all wish we could pass on to our kids.  We hatched the plan that we would "catch him" in the act.  Daddy, being Daddy, wasn't about to let himself get caught.

So he plotted for weeks how he would evade our traps.  Fugitive and wormy took to sleeping under the tree to catch him.  He took to ... I don't know how he did it unless he spiked their cocoa, but he slipped in so quietly that he never woke them or anyone else.  They would open their eyes on Christmas morning to find that they were sleeping on or under their presents.   (Last year wormy wrote a Xanga post about the year he woke up under a new bicycle.  He was startled into sitting up quickly - too quickly.  He cut his forehead on the pedal and still has a scar.)  Two years ago, wormy was home for Christmas.  I guarantee you, at almost 30 years of age, he slept under the tree and my Dad loved it.  I'd bet you anything that neither of them remember what gift he got that year, but they'll never forget the game.

I'm not suggesting that every family should adopt the same tradition my family played out.  I'm not even sure that MY kids will ever do it.  We have our own traditions.  Michael is very easily over-stimulated.  When his tank gets full, he doesn't have any fun, he just sits and cries.  So we started the tradition of stretching out the opening of gifts and interspersing it with other activities.  We open a few, then break for breakfast and talk about how much fun it was to see ________ open the ________.  Then we go back and open a few more.  Last year took us less time than ever to open the presents, we were finished a little after noon.  I think one year we started by opening one on Christmas Eve and we didn't open the last one until about 6 pm on Christmas Day.   Not because we had so very many presents, but because we took time to play with each one for a while as we opened them.

You may think it's weird, but it works for us.  I don't know what my kids will look back and remember about Christmas in our family.  I hope they remember their Mom and Dad down on the floor playing with them.  I hope they remember that shopping was an adventure in scoping out their brother, plotting the perfect gift, then buying and hiding it for weeks until it was present wrapping day.  I think that they have almost as much fun on the day they bring the presents out of hiding and invite each other to shake and guess as they do on the day they open them.

Today was present wrapping day.  We placed the gifts around the base of our tree and I shook my head at the sheer number of boxes (we've also been known to wrap socks individually for more unwrapping fun - I admitted up front that we are odd.)  Michael said, "Mom, lean down."  So I bent my head (he's tall enough now that I don't really have to lean).  And he said, "I can't wait to see Tucker smile."

And really, isn't that the best gift?

Deck the halls

Hang the tinsel

scour the malls

Tis the season

Shameless Nepotism -

Fugitive has a great blog today. 

And I found another quiz I had to take over at SmoothSailing's site.

What Monty Python Character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Friday Fun -

I found these quizzes at Solflames' site yesterday.  It tickled me to be a woman from the ocean working in Hell's library.  I guess all that water makes me less likely to be consumed by the flame. 

Which Ultimate Beautiful Woman are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Where Did Your Soul Originate?
brought to you by Quizilla

You come from the Ocean. You've always been drawn to the sea, the sound of the waves, the crystal blue water, near the sea is where you belong.

I don't mind at all that it suggests I'm from the sea.  (Even though Tim says these results could be interpreted to mean I'm a wet blanket on and otherwise good time.)  I've been longing to go back to the beach since approximately 1/2 hour after we glot home from our last trip.  End of January, I'll be in Florida - whoooo hoooo.  This business of having in-laws near the ocean is marvelous.  Much much better than when they lived in Oklahoma next to nothing.

Since I got home last weekend, I haven't been out and about at all.  I haven't gone to the grocery, I haven't gone to Walmart, I haven't even gone to the end of my driveway to retrieve the mail.  One day I stepped outside long enough to get something out of the van, but although Tim brought in my luggage and I put it all away, there is still travel stuff that I haven't even considered cleaning out of there because it would mean going outside.

How is it that for someone who loves travel so much, I get to be positively reclusive in the week or so after each trip?  I've enjoyed my time in my warm comfortable cave this week.  But I fear it is coming to an end.  Not only are the kids looking less and less impressed with the stuff I'm putting on the table, but I have to put up the Christmas tree.  I know that for most people the short walk from my back door to the shed where the Christmas stuff is stored wouldn't constitute leaving the house, but I'm a purist about these things. 

Once the tree is up, presents must be wrapped, cookies must be baked, and eventually I'll have to get in my vehicle and leave my property for a trip into town to get whatever holiday ingredient I don't have on hand.  I'll be whining all the way there and we'll be singing Christmas carols all the way home.  Leaving the house is like that first plunge into the cold Spring lake.  It's shocking, but after I get used to it, it's fun.

A Rose By Any Other Name

I had a great laugh at Fugitive's expense last week.  Her little boy has a new hero.  He wants to honor his hero.  We were all in the van driving to the lake when he made his announcement.  "Mom, from now on I want you to call me, (......  long pause for effect .....) Otto."

Fugitive is an openminded and supportive Mom, I believe her exact words were, "Hell no!"

Last night it was my turn.  My baby came in and informed me that it's too hard to type all the letters of T U C K E R whenever he gets the high score in his video game.  So he wants us to call him Tod.  I think I sat in stunned silence for a moment.  I know I glanced over at Tim, but all I got back was that "your on your own with this one, babe" look.  Finally I said, "At least it isn't, Otto."

Names are important to us.  The names we call each other can build us up or tear us down.  The names we call ourselves literally define us.  We've all heard the old proverb, sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will really hurt ya.  So I was alert over the past few days for any hint of name-calling or general disrespect in the tone of the discussion in my comments section.  After all we were talking about some fairlyu touchy subjects and it's easy for people to become offended or give offense under those circumstances.  I am happy to report that no one said anything in any way that was inappropriate or even questionable.

Its probably getting to be unflattering that I keep experiencing this surprise at how cool the people are here.  I think its because I've never been a part of a group that was able to discuss heavy issues without it sooner or later (and usually sooner) sliding into general jerkiness.  I'm even more impressed when I consider that you guys are about the most diverse group of people I can imagine.  You defy every prediction of the multi-culturalists who preach political correctness in a tacit admission that they've given up all hope of rea understanding.  You prove them wrong.  Even (and maybe even especially) in disagreement you are kind, thoughtful, and yet willing to speak the truth.  How cool is that?

Here at Xanga I've discovered an online community that offers me exactly what I hope for when I log onto the internet.  You guys are funny, serious, zany, intelligent, and friendly.  I've searched out animated gifs to represent the many faces of Xanga.  I hope you see one that makes you think of yourself.  I tried to be thorough.

Saving Grace

Yesterday's post prompted some great discussion in my comments section and on my phone, and over my dinner table.  So now I'm in the difficult position of trying to decide how to begin today's thought. I'm not sure that everyone heard what I intended to say yesterday, so I want to say some of it again for my own sake.  Please give me a paragraph of patience on this. 

No one is "saved" by religion.  Theology is what happens when people who've had experience of God attempt to translate that experience into language that other people can understand.  Religion happens when people come together and translate their worship from a private into a corporate experience.  Intellectual assent to the theology and participation in the ritual of religion are both valuable things, but they do not equal direct experience of God.

One of my favorite Christian author/speakers wrote a book a few years back entitled "We Have Met the Enemy and They are Partly Right".  (If I ever get published I hope I have someone who can think up cool title's like that for my stuff.)  I'm not much about correcting theological error.  I've been on the receiving end of well-intentioned but ultimately harmful efforts by people who just wanted to set me straight often enough to have lost whatever taste I might have had for engaging in such activity myself.  And, I've learned that it's just as rare for someone to be all wrong as for me to be all right.

I am very much about asking questions and being willing to hear a hard answer.  Christians have a lot of it right.  Two things we understand is that people are saved by faith and that it is through God's grace that we are given faith.  There is nothing any person can do so summon the exact proper amount of faith to "win" a spot in the eternal in-crowd.  What we sometimes fail to do is carry our understanding all the way out to it's logical conclusion. 

Faith is defined by theologians as the response of man to God.  I cannot respond to something that I don't believe exists.  I cannot form a relationship with someone that I have never met.  I can talk about a concept, or I can talk about a person, but to have faith is to have a relationship with God.

There are all kinds of reasons, good reasons why a person may be unable to offer intellectual assent to theological constructs.  Some Christian evangelists out of well-meant desire to see people experience God have presented Him in such a way that the very people they are most concerned about are hurt and offended.  If you are one of those people who have been hurt in this way, I'm sorry.  The truth is that God in His grace doesn't require us to do anything to be His friend.  One of the Bible verses that we Christians love to quote reminds us that God reaches out to us before we ever consider reaching out to Him (and really when you think about it, what could we possibly offer to God to bribe Him into accepting us anyway?)

I'm concerned for those who have been terribly wounded by religion or religious people.  I look in the Bible to see how Jesus and his disciples responded when they met people who fit this description.  I gave some examples of Biblical texts concerning pagans yesterday, today I'd like to mention another.  First there is the episode of Jesus meeting and speaking with the woman at the well.  This woman had all kinds of obstacles between herself and Jesus in the estimation of his disciples.  First off she was a woman, no respecting rabbi would speak with a woman.  The woman in question was a Samaritan, a despised ethnic minority.  In addition to having these strikes against her, she lived a life her community judged harshly.  She had bounced from man to man and was at the time living with a man who was not her husband. 

Jesus did some remarkable things in this encounter.  He broke social convention by speaking with her, by asking for water from her dipper, and by raising the issue of her affairs.  Then she asked him for a definitive answer to a religious question - where is the right place to worship God?  His answer to her is one of the more fascinating passages I've ever meditated upon.  He said "You worship that which you do not know; we worship that which we know, for salvation is from the Jews.  But an hour is coming and now is when the true worshipers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth; for such people the Father seeks to be his worshipers.  God is spirit and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and in truth."

As a teenager, I brought this verse to my Dad in a plea that he allow me to sit a little closer to the back of the sanctuary with my friends.  See he had this rule that I could sit anywhere I wanted in church as long as I would sit in front of him - and he sat on the third pew back from the front on the left side of the sanctuary.  So I mostly sat alone and felt all the eyes on the back of my head.  My Dad's answer was classic Don Chenault.  "It's true that you CAN worship anywhere, the question is not CAN you, its WILL you."  I don't know if the heady distraction of my friends would have prevented me from worshiping, I never got the chance to find out. 

As an adult I've cone to understand that there are all kinds of layers in the passage from the book of John and in my Dad's answer.  See, I could be sitting on the front row, looking very attentive to all the people sitting around me, and not be worshipping at all.  Or I can be physically in the middle to the back row center section but in every other way I'm standing before the throne of God.  I can be sitting in a Christian church, a meeting of people exploring together the precepts of Buddhist meditation, a solemn celebration of seder, a state park, or at my dining room table and have the same experience of worship.  I have prayed aloud, silently, through dance, through song and through tears when I had no words at all.  I've met God through the spontaneous expression of worship in a charismatic fellowship and in the high ritual of mass.

I believe that there are people who have met the Spirit of God, who have had their life altered by the experience and who are in a genuine relationship with the Creator of the Universe in response to His invitation who do not call themselves Christian.  I believe that there are Christians who show up regularly at church and go through all the motions and say all the words who have never met God and wouldn't recognize Him if he showed up at their doorstep with a nametag.

I don't know which people are which.  I know only that God is real and is actively engaged in the business of inviting people to come into relationship.  Some places are more conducive to hearing that voice and responding to that invitation than others.  But, just as God is everywhere, those who respond to God are everywhere.  Only you can say whether the place you hang out makes it more or less possible for you to meet God.

I believe there is only one God.  Everyone who has met God has met the same God.  But, every experience of God is unique.  We meet God with our mind, heart, body and spirit.  When we meet religion it's sometimes tempting to think that we've met God.  But, the two are only distantly related.  I believe the promise given in the Bible that anyone who seeks God will find God. 

See now I'm preaching again.  I'm almost tempted to give an altar call and invite you to contribute to the offering plate because that's generally how we do it in the place where I worship.  How about this instead?  If you have a question about God as I know God, or if you have an experience of God that you'd like to share and you don't particularly want to put it out there in the comments section for everyone to dissect, I'd love to have you email me.  I don't have all the answers.  I don't even have all the questions.  I do have an open heart and a ready listening ear to hear your story.