Freedom Of, Not From

On May 2, our nation will celebrate, to one degree or another, National Day of Prayer. In years past I have participated in gatherings in Fort Pierce and elsewhere.  As Toastmaster for a club meeting of Fort Pierce Toastmasters this week, I’ve chosen prayer as the theme and will hand out a copy of the prayer to be used at gatherings around the country. We’ll talk about what prayer is  (conversation, thanksgiving, worship, supplication)  and what it is not (a wish list for the celestial Santa).

We are no longer a Christian nation. Some would say we never were, that our founding fathers were deists, not theists, and certainly not that increasingly politically incorrect animal known as Christian. We are still, however, a Christianized nation. Although each generation seems to move a little further off the mark, we are for the time being awash with a Judeo-Christian heritage generally, and a Christian one specifically.

Our elected officials, whether swearing or affirming, place a hand on the Judeo-Christian holy book, the Bible. Our laws, taken from the best of various codes throughout history, give more than a nod to the Decalogue or Ten Commandments in that it is, in our society, considered wrong to murder, steal, and lie. The Puritan work ethic of industry, frugality, and prosperity has not been liberalized out of the national conscience just yet, and most of us recognize what the phrase means, even if we do not consistently use it as a personal mantra.

We are a young nation, but in such a short time, we have seen incredible changes. We have fought for independence, seen the end of slavery, expanded from one coast to the other and beyond, exported our goods and services throughout the world. From a fledgling upstart to a world leader, the story of the United States of America has been an exciting one for all to read. And at no time in our history, has the acknowledgement of God been completely absent.

From the prayers of thanksgiving by the writers of the Mayflower Compact, to George Washington’s prayer toward the end of the Revolutionary War, to the Declaration of Independence, to Franklin D. Roosevelt’s D-Day Prayer, to the Serenity Prayer now used by thousands of self-help groups, to this month’s National Day of Prayer suggested prayer by Greg Laurie, we have as a nation not only known what it meant to pray but to whom our prayers were directed. We have, as a nation, acknowledged the existence of one Supreme Being, one God, omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent.

My generation grew up in Sunday school and church, or in synagogue. We grew up with a brief prayer at the beginning of the school day. Our children, while they may have started out that way, began drifting as they got older. Their children may or may not have traditional religious training, and prayer has been formally taken out of the public school system.

Oh, there’s prayer – as they say, there will always be prayer in school as long as there are tests, and no law prohibits our thoughts. Yet. But the daily acknowledgement that there is something beyond what we find inside our textbooks and laboratories has been removed. Does this matter?

Certainly there has been a significant rise in crime, teenage pregnancy, violence in schools, divorce, All Things Bad, etc. since 1962, but hearing a short Bible verse and woodenly repeating the Lord’s Prayer was not the proverbial ounce of prevention. It was just a small particle of prevention, like the inclusion of “under God” in our pledge of allegiance…still, thankfully, allowed by our government, but an important part nevertheless.

In the third book of C. S. Lewis’ space trilogy, That Hideous Strength, the protagonist realizes that the very effort to quash all religious thought and practice proves its importance and validity. Otherwise, he surmises, why not just ignore it? If there is nothing to God or prayer or scripture, if it is truly foolishness and myth, why all the uproar? It made no sense. It still doesn’t.

Great evil has been done in the name of God, in the name of religions of all flavors. Christianity has not escaped this in the past nor in today’s America. Hatred and intolerance still hides behind the face of faith. The answer is not in distancing ourselves further, lest we be mistaken for those who twist and manipulate truth for their own purposes, but to edge ever closer to the truth so that the difference is clear to all.

Our Constitution mandates freedom OF religion, not FROM religion. It’s an important distinction. Should we bring prayer back to school? I fail to see how taking a moment of silence, in which those students of faith can center themselves privately, would be harmful. They would pray to God, Allah, Krishna, the Lords of Flatbush, for all anyone else knew, but it would be a tiny, tiny reminder that it isn’t all about them. That there is more.

Maybe it would help. Couldn’t hurt. Prayer has been proven (i.e. statistically, medically, documentably) to help physically. I believe our country, whippersnapper that it still is in the Bigger Historical Picture, could use all the help it can get.

If you would like to see prayer back “officially” in schools, fine – speak up, vote, write letters to the editor or a blog like this one. But don’t just complain and not be willing to do what you CAN do to share your faith. Don’t wail and gnash your teeth that schools are going to hell in a handbasket because they took prayer out, and then fail to provide godly training to your children and grandchildren at home.

And while we’re at it, since prayer is not currently, formally sanctioned in school, there is absolutely nothing to stop believers of all persuasions from adding more acknowledgement of God to their places of business. In North Carolina, the buckle on the Bible Belt, it is not uncommon to see placards with Bible verses in peoples’ yard or taped to cash registers.

Tiny particles of hope and truth. In some countries, that would be against the law, but not here.

Not yet, anyway.

(c) Ellen Gillette, 2013

Follow-Up

Last week it was my honor to have a guest column in the local newspaper. Years ago, I was a weekly columnist. A PAID weekly columnist. It was pretty heady stuff. I loved getting cards and letters from readers, phone calls, being stopped by a reader in the grocery store -- even if it was to chew me out. For a newspaper columnist, feedback is gold, whether it is positive or negative.

My column was dropped shortly before we moved to North Carolina in 2005. By the time we returned to south Florida in 2011 -- has it been that long? -- other people were in place, for the most part. (Newspapers have a very high turnover rate.) I made the calls, introduced myself. No need for more columnists at this time, no budget for freelancers, I was told, but you're welcome to write guest columns. So I did just that.

Periodically, I submit items to the editorial page editor. That being the venue rather than, say, the front of the local section (where my weekly column had appeared at one time) I'm more prone to submit something on subjects of tri-county interest or beyond, offering my opinion on matters of local or national interest, weighing in on some of the debates we see routinely on Facebook or on the nightly news.

The column last week was about California's Proposition 8. Prop 8 passed several years ago, adding language to that state's constitution which limited marriage to a union between individuals of different sexes. My column suggested compassionate compromise that recognizes committed long-term same-sex unions. If the word "marriage" is a problem, then go at it obliquely, but let's use common sense. The attitude of California and the entire nation has changed in the last 5 years, and state laws should reflect that. BUT Prop 8 legally passed, and the highest court in the land shouldn't be troubled with it. Go back to the voters. Change it that way.

I sent the column first to a friend, a former editor who has had great influence on me over the last 20 years, and not just in the area of newspaper writing. Knowing him, and knowing some of the things with which he and his family have been involved has gone a long way toward modifying some of my thinking. Not the only influence, but a major one.

He made, as he usually does, some technical suggestions and added that perhaps in the future, I might think about a follow-up column dealing with how and why my views had changed.

Maybe I will write that piece for the newspaper, but for now, I'll do it here.

In years past, I was a very black-and-white kind of person. I led a sheltered life. My life was home and church and not much else. For years we didn't own a television, even! This was before the Internet exploded onto the scene. Before I became involved with community theater. Before I went to work outside the home. Before I became a professional writer. My moral plumb line was straight as an arrow and allowed no leeway. Right was Right, Wrong was Wrong, and never the twain could meet.

And then I had some of my own personal crises. I saw things I thought would never happen, happen. And the sun continued to shine.

I discovered that the only thing that is the end of the world is, in fact, the end of the world...and it hasn't happened yet. I met people outside the safety zone of church. My children grew up and didn't depend on me as their sole source of wisdom and direction. I grew up too, looking beyond what others had always told me and forming my own opinions. I met gay individuals, gay (gasp) couples. I developed friendships with people who were not of the same faith, or of any faith at all. I listened to differing political views. I observed people who were intelligent, decent, productive, caring...and who disagreed with me on almost everything, yet freely acknowledged that I, too, was intelligent, decent, productive, and caring.

A friend told me about his brother coming out as a gay man. Their sister responded with the familiar adage that "God hates the sin but loves the sinner," to which my friend countered, "This is our brother. That's not good enough." Over the years, the family embraced their own and supported him, even if they did not share or completely understand his way of life. When he passed away, his partner of many years instantly became a family member, another brother forever.

I've laughed with and teased other gay couples, seen how they genuinely care for one another. When I posted the equality flag during the Supreme Court deliberations with some of my views on Facebook, it surprised me who was offended, and who wasn't. Bible verses were quoted. I was chastised, albeit fairly gently, by some of my Christian brothers and sisters who sounded very much like I might have sounded some years in the past. I understand where they're coming from. I just know I'm not where I used to be. I don't understand homosexuality, but I understand sexuality as a God-given need and a God-given joy, and I don't think it's up to me to decide who gets to have that need met and with whom, who has a "right" to experience that joy.

There are ideals set forth for the maximum health of mankind, but how many of us, in any area of life, manage to live up to ideals? Dare we pick and choose which ones are okay (for us) to slip up on, and which ones we can righteously bash people over the head with?

I'm so glad I'm not God.

There is a quote by a Persian philosopher named Rumi that says, paraphrased here, that beyond Right and Wrong there's a field where we can meet. I love that. Christians enjoy quoting the Law, spout things about ADAM AND EVE, NOT ADAM AND STEVE but they don't think, perhaps, about the circumstances of Adam and Eve's initial existence. God never intended them to eat of the fruit of knowledge of good and evil...without which, there is no concept of Right and Wrong, just God, who is Love incarnate.

Only after the forbidden fruit was eaten, and hundreds of years later, was the Law given in order to show God's people a better, healthier, more righteous way of living. Ideals were laid out by a God who knewknewknewknewknew his people would fail to comply, would be unable to fully follow all the in's and out's, thereby laying the groundwork for the coming of the Messiah who would, once and for all, offer himself as the ultimate and final sacrifice for the sins of mankind, past, present, and future. That includes us, by the way.

People quote random verses and conveniently slide over others. Funny thing is, the verses that are quoted are frequently addressed to the behavior of OTHER PEOPLE. It's one thing to say, "I don't understand this, but it's not my business. God bless you and lead us both, in his love and grace, to the Truth." It's quite another to point fingers and say, "I don't understand this, so it must be wrong. You must be wrong, and it's my job to set you straight."

Same-sex marriage isn't the only arena in which subtle change has taken place. I used to be pretty cut-and-dried about divorce, for instance. God hates it, after all! The Bible says so! It must be wrong! At 55, I've figured out that it isn't to whom you're married, or with whom you are intimate, that secures your place in heaven. An unmarried, or non-traditionally married, couple who sacrificially and joyfully loves each other must, in some corner of heaven, give more  glory to God our Creator than many "righteous" unions in which there is no sacrifice, no joy, just two miserable people gritting their teeth. White knuckle marriages for the sake of being Right glorify God? Not necessarily. In this case, too, knowing people who have cried out to God for wisdom and felt genuinely led to divorce...well, you can't argue with experience. I may not always understand, but it really doesn't depend on my understanding, does it? No one died and made ME God, that's for damn sure.

Life is short. My thoughts have changed. I'd like to think they've grown, deepened, matured. If, when I stand before God's throne, he tells me that I was one messed up little puppy and had it ALL wrong, that's cool. I'm forgiven, loved unconditionally. I'm doing the best I can with what he's given me, and I know he understands me better than I understand myself. But since I'm NOT all-knowing, I am more comfortable erring in a few matters on the side of grace, inclusion, and compassion. I know that I need grace daily, hourly. I know that there are things about MY life that people on the outside looking in would question, misunderstand, disagree with, even revile. And that's okay. I'm not asking for their approval or permission for my life, and I heartily contend that no one needs mine.

For a long time (a very long time ago!) I thought I could be the perfect wife and mother. I would do everything Right, from marrying the man God led me to marry, to raising our children strictly by the Bible, to staying active in church, to submitting in all things, to serving all people in all ways. And because I did everything Right, my children would do everything Right, and they would be safe and happy and fulfilled at all times and in all ways! What a load of shit! (And having raised goats, I know of what I speak!)

Do you hear the pride in all of that? Me, me, me. Sickening, really.

NOTHING depends on  me. I tried to be a good wife and loving mother and I failed miserably. And you know what? My husband and children failed me too. And you know what? God loves us all any way. My marriage has lasted, with God's grace, 36 years, but if it ended next week, I know that it wouldn't be because...not just because...of me. There are always two sides to the story, and those I know and love who have sought a solution to years of unhappiness through divorce, well, I want to give them as much compassion as I would want in the same circumstance.

The same with friends who disagree with my politics, have wayward children, stopped going to church, or have come to grips with the fact that they are wired differently, etc. God is love. I may not understand a lot, but I understand that. If I am to be a carrier, a transmitter, a vehicle for that love, then I want to be very, very careful about demanding other people change their behavior so that I'm more comfortable with them. Maybe there is something God wants me to learn from them. Maybe he just wants to use me to be kind to them.

The Bible tells many stories about flawed, sinful, ordinary people being used by God in extraordinary ways. It's the ones who are so Right they feel they're God's little helpers that cause most of the problems. The rest of us know (have learned through painful experience) that we are, without him, incapable of anything good or loving or helpful. And we're okay with rubbing shoulders with the rest of the population on the planet that understand the same thing.

I'm rambling. Venting. Drinking a glass of chardonnay at the time, a shocking revelation to many who may read this! There are Christians who drink! And say the F word! And don't adhere to every jot and tittle of the Law...the Law that Jesus' death freed us from, remember? I want to live my life in such a way that I bring pleasure to the heart of God. The way that is worked out on a daily basis may not look, at any given moment, the way you think it should look. So stop looking! Take your eyes off me, and off same-sex couples, and off people struggling with life, and look at God.

You'll get so much more out of the view.



BTW, the link to that article is http://www.tcpalm.com/news/2013/apr/05/ellen-gillette-same-sex-marriage-compromise-in/

Packed Month

It has been almost a month since I have written anything here, a month that has been packed with everything from joy to sorrow and all points in between. I've been in rehearsal for a community theater show (now on stage, weekends through March 24 at the Pineapple Playhouse in Fort Pierce, Florida...."Small Talk- the musical," playing Tina, a gum chewing, ditzy New Yorker) - hard work, lot of hours, but always a lot of fun too. Community theater brings people together who might not necessarily meet any other way, although this show has several school board personnel involved who'd crossed paths in that arena. It requires commitment, more than anything, but also the ability to be taught, directed, focused, and flexible. Community theater enthusiasts possess these  qualities to varying degrees along their journeys, and therein lies the challenge: for old-timers to be patient with newbies, for newbies to develop a little thicker skin, for no one to think he or she is so talented that there is no room for improvement, for directors and audiences to remember that everyone is, after all, a volunteer who could be doing something else at the moment but chooses to be there, hamming it up for the audience.

So that was THAT excuse for not writing sooner. And not even the best one. How about this? We're moving next week. We'd put our home for sale online and the very first couple to ask to see it, decided to buy. Then decided not to. Then decided to buy again. The sale involves the need to also rent, until their own home sells on the west coast, which means we must vacate sooner than anticipated. And it all has flowed fairly well, with my husband David getting the heavy lifting done, taking loads and loads of stuff we won't take to an apartment half the size of the house it's all been occupying for two years.

Because of the need for finding another place to live, pronto!, David asked me not to take on more substitute teaching jobs. In a way, I've had an easier few weeks, only going to a choice few teaching gigs, where I knew the teacher, was especially asked, or called by the Catholic school -- it is such a joy to go there, I try not to turn them down. If you ever thought there is really no difference in secular and parochial, public and private, education, guess again. The students there have, in many cases, grown up together, known by teachers at all levels. There is prayer before classes begin, a continuity and stability and support from the administration that is seldom seen elsewhere. And how could it be? When public school administrators do a great job, they are often shuttled off to a "troubled" school to fix things, rather than given the opportunity to continue to flourish where they have been such an asset.

Soapbox interruption: I am a public school employee, support public education with my taxes and my energy, but I do wish someone would find a way to make it more user-friendly! Teachers are buried in paperwork, behavior problems interrupt their day with limited resolution, kids are moved along more quickly than their little brains have been able to keep up with, testing is too often seen as the end-all solution. Politics becomes too much involved, with unions out for their members at the expense of the students. Parents blame teachers, teachers blame parents, students blame each other. It is a mess with no easy fix. I do think that if ALL schools returned to basic teaching, having enough textbooks for students to take them home at night and study (novel thought!), requiring homework to reinforce what was learned in the classroom, and improved teacher-parent communication, things could turn around. Sure...on what planet?

In the midst of packing and rehearsals, enter something hurtful that stopped me in my tracks, pulled the rug out from under my feet, took my breath away, bewildered me. One of the most hurtful things to ever happen to me, at least in many years, and it was followed fairly quickly by something even moreso, but for very different reasons.

My father-in-law, Bud Gillette (born Edgar Graham Gillette, but called Buddy or Bud by family, including his children) had to interrupt his radiation treatments due to shingles, and never really snapped back. At 88 (or 89, depending on who you ask) he'd have good days and bad days, prior to this, but the pain of the shingles seemed to grease the slope down which his health slipped, fairly rapidly. One day he was confused and uncomfortable, but talking. The next he was at the ER, and the next in hospice. Almost two weeks in hospice, kept pain-free by the wonderful workers there, he drifted into eternity with a smile on his face. What a gift for those who were there! Many of the family were able to visit many of those days but Bud was largely non-responsive. Mom and my sister-in-law Donna were there for his final breath, during another long night, and it was an awesome experience for them.

Bud had been legally blind for years from macular degeneration, but his eyes brightened at the end. His countenance was transformed. My mother-in-law, for 68 years Bud's wife Joyce, said his mouth moved as if saying "Dad. Dad." Bud idolized his father, who died at the ripe old age of 93 (with the heart of a 40 year old, said his doctor). Others think he might have been saying "Adam," our son who went before. Whoever he saw, it was obviously a blessing to him, because he smiled. Peace and joy at the end...what better way to see a loved one pass away? As Christians, we believe that we will be reunited with him in Glory -- not the bent, blind, man we loved who had the remnants of an electrical accident, but Bud reborn, healthy, tanned as if just stepping off his handcrafted sailboat. He raised five children who gave him 12 grandchildren, who in turn, gave him 23 great-grandchildren. That's quite a legacy from the island boy who shot game for his family and joined the Navy as a teenager.

Even with the joy and relief that his sufferings are over, of course there is sadness. Bud was a great storyteller, and those stories are gone forever. He saw so much, from the Great Depression, to World War II, the building boom in Florida. Born in Sarasota, he married into one of the few native St. Lucie County families still around. My husband's family has been in Florida practically since Jesus was a boy, as Clairee said in "Steel Magnolias."

Now, family from all around the state and down from North Carolina are gathering together to honor Bud at a service tomorrow, and some of them will help us move this week, and I have a day off coming (it's been a month since I visited the Parallel Universe in which there is no drama, no phone-unless-there's-blood-involved, no responsibilities for a few hours, only relaxation and doing-whatever-I-want). I also have my sister arriving from a trip overseas and the promise of a good visit and lots of stories brings happiness in the midst of the stress.

In months to come perhaps I'll share some of Bud's stories with you. Years ago I bought him a little recorder and asked him to use it so I could transcribe them, especially for the little ones coming up who haven't heard them. I encourage you to do something like that with your elderly loved ones. Sad to think, but they will not always be here. There is a treasure trove of stories about the early years of their lives, the WWII generation, that will be lost soon, if someone doesn't make sure they don't. Perhaps in your family, that someone is you.

I've gone all over the place, which is (I think) understandable given my circumstances. I've got lines and songs to remember, timing to think about, preparations to make, boxes to pack, utilities to switch over (which I just remembered this afternoon), mail to forward, necks to hug, a man I knew and loved for over 35 years to say a final goodbye to. And then...back to "normal" life as I know it. Always a little stressed, but filled with such surprises of joy and love that going on is possible. I've vented a bit, and now it's time to get out the false eyelashes and turn into Tina again. The show, as with life, must go on.

Respect for Others, Including the President

The morning after President Obama gave his State of the Union address, I posted this on my Facebook page:

Seeing a lot of anti-president posts this morning. President Obama isn't the king - he presents policy to us, he doesn't singlehandedly make it. He'll be gone in four years. We're told to pray for those in authority over us. I'm thinking that THANKING God for our president will be more effective than focusing on everything one doesn't agree with. I know we all have a need to vent when we are angry, and I understand being angry about many of the issues in America today. But. How will we teach our children and grandchildren to respect us, teachers, law enforcement, employers, etc. if we do not show respect for those in authority over us? The Bible tells us that GOD raises up leaders and that he is at work, always always always for the good of his people. Do we trust that or not? I guess I needed to vent a little too!

A friend shared it on HIS page, with some edits. His share generated lots of comments. My original post generated lots of comments. Some were in agreement, some weren't. One in particular called into question the character of another man based on his support of the president. I know this man, better than I know his critic, and he is a committed Christian who just happens to disagree with me on a lot of political issues. His response was this:

No president is perfect. And I certainly have my own problems with some of this president's policies. This thread is not about agreeing or disagreeing wholeheartedly with the man, it's about doing so with respect. And with all due respect to you, judging me the way you just did — simply because I defended our president against disrespect — is part of the problem. You don't know ONE THING about me, yet you pile on all sorts of assumptions. Civilized discourse is dying. I hope it can be revived, or I don't see much hope for us.

Civilized discourse. What a novel idea. It reminded me of debate - I had to take a side with which I didn't agree for a debate exercise in college...it's challenging. Also effective. We need to know how to present information clearly and accurately, and stand up for the things in which we believe strongly. We also need to be able to listen to others and keep an open mind, at times.

Here's what wikipedia says about debate:

Debate is a method of interactive and representational argument. Debate is a broader form of argument than deductive reasoning, which only examines whether a conclusion is a consequence of premises, and factual argument, which only examines what is or isn't the case, or rhetoric which is a technique of persuasion. Though logical consistency, factual accuracy and some degree of emotional appeal to the audience are important elements of the art of persuasion, in debating, one side often prevails over the other side by presenting a superior "context" and/or framework of the issue, which is far more subtle and strategic. The outcome of a debate depends upon consensus or some formal way of reaching a resolution, rather than the objective facts as such. In a formal debating contest, there are rules for participants to discuss and decide on differences, within a framework defining how they will interact.

I'm 55, and I regularly write guest opinion columns for the newspaper, so I'm not likely to get my knickers in a twist if someone disagrees with something I say. I was tempted to delete the entire thread when my friend was criticized so strongly, however, but he assured me that he's gotten much, much worse. 

And, to be honest, he's able to dish it out -- I've gotten it from him, on occasion! He has no problem receiving criticism, but he does wish people could share their views in a respectful, lively setting. 

Proverbs 27:17 says that " As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another" (New International Version). If you share your views with me, it may solidify my own differing viewpoint all the more. Or it may plant a new thought -- why DO I disagree with this? Is it valid? Am I operating solely on emotion, or does my view of the issue reflect facts. Even more importantly, does it reflect truth? (Truth and facts are often very different.) Either way, our ability to hear what others are saying and be willing to acknowledge that we may not have all the answers is so important!

As I have gotten older, I have come to realize that in the past I was much more of a black-and-white person. I saw the absolutes so clearly, and there was a time when that's about ALL I saw. Some would say I've compromised, grown weak, gotten waffley. Even...gasp...more liberal. I choose to think of it as learning that I am not God. That you are not God. That my idea of God is extremely limited, as is yours. That I'm more comfortable thinking maybe it's better to err on the side of tolerance and inclusion than the alternative.

I was talking to a friend recently about codependency. She's learning, as I am learning, that it's okay to say no. It's okay not to be the glue that holds it all together. It's okay to take care of ME, so that I'm better able to help others (maybe) but mostly, so that I'm able to maintain the necessary degree of emotional, physical, and spiritual equilibrium within myself.

She commented that much of what she's hearing contradicts the Bible. I disagreed. I think it contradicts what we have interpreted. Yes, we are to serve others. Submit, honor, defer, etc. But Jesus' bottom line is "Love your neighbor as yourself." Most of us try to love everyone else because we don't like ourselves and think we'll feel better if we make THEM happy. But we can't, and we don't, and they resent us trying.

What does that have to do with political debate? Just that two Christians can disagree on any issue and still be Christian in their belief. There are some people who have been taught that anyone who commits suicide goes to hell, because a sin has been committed without time to ask forgiveness. I think that's wrong, and a horrible burden to place on the shoulders of those who have died in that manner. Salvation isn't based on how we die, but on what we believe.

The same could be said of many things some of us spend so much time and energy arguing over. Yes, God hates divorce (Malachi 2:16) because he loves US and wants us to be loved, fulfilled, at peace. That doesn't mean that divorce is always wrong. In some situations, it is the only path TO love, fulfillment and peace. Salvation doesn't depend on who you're married to, either, or even with whom you're sleeping.

There are times, certainly, for stubborn, non-wavering insistence. Jesus comes to mind. If you try to convince me that Jesus didn't exist, or he isn't God, or that he was just a good teacher, you're going to get an earful. On just about anything else, however, I'm willing to say that while I THINK this or that, and I BELIEVE this or that at this point in time, I may or may not be 100 percent correct. 

Back to President Obama: he's not the king. He's not a Hitler or Amin or Stalin. He's not perfect, either. His cabinet isn't perfect. The whole dang government isn't perfect. Nor is the citizenry. But we still have the "more perfect" union, the most successful experiment in democracy, and a nation that --while perhaps no longer even wanting to be known as a "Christian" nation -- is at least Christianized. There remains a strong Judeo-Christian influence at work, no matter where you go within our country. In the schools, in the marketplace, in government, there is still an underlying adherence to basic principles of hard work, decency, honesty, justice. That isn't what we always get, but we all know that those things are Best. That can't be said of everywhere on the planet.

And I believe that when the Bible says that God raises up leaders and uses all things for his glory, that it's true. I may not understand it. I may have voted for someone else. I may be looking forward to the 2016 election. I may despise many of the policies that this country operates by. But I believe that God's purposes cannot be thwarted by a simple election. I believe that he will use anyone...even President Obama....even me!...for his purposes and for his glory, and that no one...not even President Obama...not even me!...is powerful enough to mess things up.

That doesn't mean things can't get worse or that they won't get worse. It just means that God's got it all under control. And in the meantime, I think we can talk about our differences in beliefs, politics, issues, fashion, choices, favorite movies and music, whatever, with a lot more respect and sense of humor than I saw this week on Facebook.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2013

Rambling about School

Our local school board recently stunned the community when it announced some possibilities to reduce costs. Less money for athletics, music, art. Four day work weeks. Mandatory leave without pay for some employees. School consolidation. Not only that, but the superintendent of schools announced he's retiring. Yikes.

If the intent was to stir up discussion, it worked. Hopefully, a solution will be found without causing too much damage to favorite programs. Like math.

As a substitute teacher for both St. Lucie County and the Diocese of West Palm Beach, which has oversight for our local Catholic schools, I see a lot. I see the new schools with shiny equipment. I see the older schools with paint peeling in the hallways. I see evidence of teachers in danger of being buried under paperwork. I also see teachers and aides working with a few students at a time who benefit from extra attention. There's much that could be improved upon, but there's plenty of positives to go around.

The atmosphere of a school is an amazing thing in that it can differ drastically across just one county. I've long heard (and believed) that the principal sets the tone. If a principal is engaged, fair, enthusiastic, kind, personable, competent...if he or she hasn't forgotten what it was like to be in the classroom...if there isn't an us vs. them attitude pitting the administration against the instructors...if children don't pick up on tension in their teachers...if politics are kept to a minimum...if the teachers have the freedom to focus on their students, first and foremost...it will be a great school. If not, well, it has more challenges than most.

Unfortunately, teachers who excel at teaching sometimes advance their careers by becoming administrators, when their gifts and skill sets are better suited for the classroom than a small, well-appointed office. And a great principal is too often moved to another school to "fix" it, leaving the school behind that had been a showcase for his or her talents.

Teachers get moved around from school to school, grade to grade, even subject to subject. Some teachers view their vocation as a ministry, a calling...and some view teaching as the path of least resistance, something there will always be a need for, job security.

I read some good news tonight, via a Facebook friend. We've been operating under the belief that American students were lagging far behind their international counterparts, but when all the data is factored in, they're not doing so bad after all. This is great news, as in Florida at least, children must prepare for the dreaded FCAT tests as if an imminent overthrow by the Chinese depends on their scores.

I've seen education from a lot of angles: as a student, daughter of a college teacher, a home school superintendent, a home school parent, private school classroom teacher, public and parochial school substitute teacher, sister of a teacher, parent of students, grandparent of students. Various in-laws have served the local school system in various capacities. There are real problems. The benefit of smaller private schools is more discipline and higher standards; the benefit of larger public schools is more programs and opportunity for the most kids.

Our local police department's command staff has to take mandatory unpaid days; perhaps the upper echelon of school administration will do something similar in order to alleviate financial strain. County commissioners may increase taxes. Teachers may have to realize they won't be seeing a raise...or find a better paying county in which to teach.

When we moved to St. Lucie County in 1967, there was a teacher's strike. If it comes to that, the subs don't have to strike too, do they? We don't get paid much, less per hour than the bus drivers, at least at my rate (AA degree). It's rewarding, though, to help a teacher who is off for training or a doctor's appointment or wasn't feeling up to snuff, to meet some of the county's finest kids and quite a few of its more unsavory elements, to be walking down the hall of a school you haven't subbed at in a few weeks and hear, "Hey, Mrs. G!"

There's no "substitute" for such affirmation. (Groannnnn. Sorry about that!)

Babbling 'Bout the Year Ahead

For twenty-four years, I've written columns appearing mostly in the Fort Pierce Tribune, as well as the Forum, the Independent (aka the Weekly) Stuart News, Vero Beach Press Journal, Burlington Times-News, Main Street Focus, and (once) the Raleigh Observer. This wonderful slice of life began with New Year's thoughts appearing January 6, 1989 in the Tribune.

It happened this way: I noticed that a friend of ours had a guest column in the paper. I'm not sure if I asked her about it, or if I just sent something in, but Howard Sharp, the editorial page editor at the time, accepted it, asked me to come in for a photo and gave me the heads-up about submitting invoices. They actually had a freelance budget back then. Would that they did now!

At any rate, Bob Enns, the managing editor (I think they still called the top guy "editor-in-chief" then) stepped down soon after and Lee Barnes took the reins. I went in to introduce myself to "Mr. Barnes." "Call me Lee," he said in a South Carolina drawl he describes as John-Kerry-with-a-head-cold.

I noticed that on his wall hung a diploma frame. I know this is what it was because the store's slick paper insert was still inside it bearing those very words in fancy font: diploma frame. Apparently he was too busy reporting and managing newsrooms and being editors hither and yon in Florida and North Carolina to actually graduate from college. Go figure. But you can tell a lot about his character, humility, and humor from that one simple frame on the wall. We hit it off immediately.

So of course, I tried to take advantage right away, asking if I could write for the paper on a regular basis. Welllll, nooooo, but he did like my writing. "We'll be glad to print whatever you send in." So I sent something in every week.

Eventually I got an official request to be the Wednesday columnist in the local section, and it was, as they say, the beginning of a beautiful friendship. I made some folks mad, and got fired twice (by subsequent editors) but it was great while it lasted. There was one paper that actually closed down shop with an issue I'd written for, but I'm told that it wasn't my fault! Currently, I toss out the occasional guest column and Larry Reisman, editorial page editor for all three of Scripps' Treasure Coast papers is generous enough to run them. No more freelance budget, but hey, it's still a nice feeling to know that people in my community are reading what I've written.

Sometimes I get an email, or  comments attached to the online version of the column. Sometimes they're complimentary, sometimes snarky, both of which mean someone went beyond a thought and did something about it. To a writer, either pro or con taken to that level is a plus.

That's a lot of talking about me, something about which Lee educated me under his editorial guidance. Too many "I's" and I'd get a phone call telling me to either change it or to let me know why he wasn't running my column that week! But I re-read that 1989 inaugural opinion column the other day, and before I get to my 2012 thoughts about the new year, I thought I'd ramble on a little bit for context.

Rambling done (the downside to blogging is that no one edits me first!) what do I hope for in 2013? I'm not superstitious about the number 13, so none of that. And when you think about it, we passed the much-bandied-about Doomsday predicted by the Mayans on December 21, so why worry about 13?

Because our son Adam died in 2000, the turning of the numbers usually has me reflecting on that one point: it will be 13 years, now, since his death. Honestly, for many, many years, that is what every January 1 brought to mind. This year, however, there is a sense of change. Dynamics, family systems, possible local moves, new relationships for loved ones...that's a lot of change! What do I hope for, primarily, between the last day of 2012 and the last day of 2013? Resolutions are temporary, for the most part, but here are some random thoughts that apply to my own life, and may spark some thoughts about yours:

I need to manage my time better so I can get more exercise, and get other things better in order. I've recently re-discovered how many squats and calf lifts I can do while conditioning my hair in the shower. I've wasted precious time just standing there, and hope to remember more often. I could jog in place while watching television, too. My schedule hasn't been conducive lately to running at the track or going to the gym, which means I have to either change my schedule or come up with more creative ways to stay fit. Because I'm 55. And I want to be 95 one day, still fit.

Households operate best when there are some routines its members can count on. This morning, 9-year-old Adam suggested we have meals at the same time, like at school. I think that's a grand idea. It will take some cooperation and some discipline, and possibly, some fussing to get people out of the kitchen because I'MFIXINGDINNERJUSTWAIT. I can remember going through a menu-phase, in which I planned out an entire month's meals at one shot, and bought everything I'd need in one trip. It was great! Why did I stop? Who knows. But maybe this year, I'll become more organized about such things.

Housework's another area I could be more organized. When we were at Discipleship Training School at the Youth With A Mission base in Lindale, Texas, my work duty EVERY DAY was to clean our two rooms and the bathroom we shared with a couple from Norway. Things never required much cleaning because I tended to them daily. I took time daily. Things aren't slovenly around here, but I can see room for improvement. (I learned a long time ago that the way to my husband's heart is not through his stomach, as the saying goes, but it is freshly vacuumed. Knowing that, I think it's the least I can do to maintain a neat home for a man who has worked so hard all his life.)

I need to drink more water. You'd think such a thing would go without saying, but most of us walk around dehydrated, with fresh, clean water available 24/7 for the vast majority of Americans. Water is such a necessary component to our physical, even mental and emotional, well-being that I'm surprised there's not more of a push by the government to educate the public on this. We know to recycle and stop smoking and do breast self-exams and not drive while intoxicated, but I'm guessing there's a mess of people who don't drink enough water every day and don't even know they should. AND I KNOW I SHOULD AND DON'T! Dumb. Dumber than dumb. I just don't remember to do it.

I have to keep fighting codependency. Getting myself wrapped up in other peoples' behaviors and emotions is my default setting. For years, after reading "Codependent No More" by Melody Beattie, and going to a family counselor, I've been working on this, and making healthy strides toward a better frame of mind. What I'd thought was being a servant, being kind, being submissive, etc. etc ad nauseum turned out to be counterproductive in some cases, even harmful. I need to let people be who they are, even if it means they make mistakes or behave badly. It's not up to me to change them, or even educate them, even if that has been an appropriate role in the past for various reasons.

For instance, I have parented my children. They're not my responsibility any longer, because they're adults. That's easy when they don't live with me, but with one resident daughter, it's been a struggle. Have. To. Let. Go. When she has been ill or otherwise unable to parent HER children, I've stepped in. Too much, perhaps. Have to find that delicate balance as the co-head of the household in such a way that I don't usurp my daughter's authority but rather, support it. At the same time, we feel there are things we should require of all who live under our roof. I walk a fine line, and don't do it anywhere near perfection, but I'm working on it. Looooong way to go, as anyone in the house could attest. I don't expect to be perfect by December 31, 2013, but I'll be very disappointed if I can't show some progress.

I need to be more disciplined in my writing. I worked best when I had an editor who expected me to turn in a column on time, with the correct word count and minimal editing needed. Committing to this blog, and especially my other one (A Poem A Day) builds in some accountability, but I haven't written much for paying markets, for no other reason than sheer laziness. There's really no excuse for that. Writers write.

Those who know me and my background best may, at this point, be thinking "When is she going to talk about her spiritual life?" Well...I'm not. As a Christian, it goes without saying that spiritual growth is an ongoing process. None of us has "arrived." None of us, from the newest believer to the celebrity preacher to the theologian with more letters at the end of his or her name than one would think possible...none...NONE...should think prayer is no longer needed, or study, or worship. The day a Christian (or, I would think, a person whose faith lies elsewhere) thinks he or she knows all there is to know about God and God's word and God's will and God's ways is a day of deception and delusion. Eternity is how long it will take to fully know God. And since it goes without saying, well, I'm not saying much.

I want to laugh more this year. Kiss more. Be silly more. Sing more loudly and dance more often. I want to make other people laugh, and cry, because I've written something that touched their hearts. I want to look in the mirror at the end of 2013 and think, "You did okay." Maybe I'll be able to do that honestly, maybe not. But one thing I know for sure, I love being alive. I love love, love's power and grace and fierceness. I'm looking forward to seeing my love affect others, and being affected by theirs. I'm excited about seeing lives change this year in a myriad of positive ways.

It's gonna be a wild ride!



(c) Ellen Gillette, 2012

It's My Birthday and I'll Write if I Want To, Write if I Want To, Write if I Want To

Somewhere in the vicinity of four in the afternoon, 55 years ago tomorrow (December 19, 1957 if you must know) I was born. I don't remember this. I don't remember feeling compelled to leave my warm dark home and venture out, squeezing through an opening in the cave wall, being pushed out (literally) kicking and screaming.

I don't remember any of it. There are months, years even, that I've lost. I was held, cooed and sung to, rocked, played with, fed, bathed. For years I received royal treatment, and I can't recall a single detail, which hardly seems fair. How many of us EVER get the royal treatment again?

My earliest memory is probably two, maybe three, a hazy impression of sitting on a high stool listening to my mother and an elderly woman. Mama knows exactly who and what that describes, but I do not.

When I was two, my mother was pregnant a third time, and was confined to bed. I don't remember that either. I played alone a lot while she desperately tried to keep the baby safe and secure within her womb, but I don't remember it. I know that as much as I love people, there are times I must be alone. I get "peopled out" and maybe this is something genetically mapped early on. I don't know. I just don't know.

When my baby brother died, I don't know if I cried or not. I grew up hearing the story, seeing the photograph of funeral flowers, seeing the photo of his still, perfectly formed shape, but I had no personal connection.

Out of 55 years, I remember close to 50 fairly well. I wonder why we're made that way? Why don't we recall every significant occurrence that has done its part to shape who and what we are? Or more accurately, who and what we are becoming. At 55, I am more finished than I was, say, at 17, but not as complete as the woman as I intend to be at 80. I know some things I want to see happen between now and then, and I don't have a clue how it will all pan out, but I'm determined to enjoy the journey.

What have I learned in 55 years? I learned how to cry early on. Turn over, crawl - pretty impressive feats, given my tender age. I learned to walk, talk, use the potty, obey my parents, play with paper dolls. I learned how to do math and use the English language. Learned to read, color inside (and outside, if I felt like it) the lines. Learned how to cook simple dishes (I haven't progressed very far from that). Learned to play a few musical instruments, the names of the states, how to braid hair, and (because I am a Southern woman and Raised Right) how to clean and sew.

I learned that people almost always do exactly what they want to do, regardless of what they say about it. That God exists and will do exactly what HE wants, regardless of how I feel about it. That love can be fierce, loss is physically painful, joy is as necessary to existence as oxygen or food. I learned that I feel loved when I am touched and when I am talked to, which makes me a cheap date, perhaps, but an appreciative one.

I learned from observing my parents and sister, relatives, friends, from reading books and listening to people. I learned a lot from sitting around a breakfast table while a bunch of cranky men talked to one another. I learned how to adapt to almost anything, and then I learned (only fairly recently) that I don't have to adapt to a damn thing unless I choose to.

I kiss well, I'm told. I could tell you other things I'm pretty good at (most of them), but I'm not genius at anything. It is one of the banes of my existence, because I always wanted to be the Best at Something, and I'm not. I could also tell you  the areas of great struggle and weakness that serve as the meat of most of my personal prayers. If you find fault with me, believe me when I say, it's no surprise. I'm already well aware of whatever fault you see, so you might as well save your breath.

In other words,  I know myself pretty well despite that annoying initial fog as a toddler. For the most part, I'm pleased with the skin I'm in (although I'd like to reduce the amount by several pounds). I'm not the girl I was, or the woman I will become, but for now, with the help of God and love and mercy and tenderness, I'm okay. Really. And thanks for asking.

On second thought, I am the Best at Something. Being me. Warts and all.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2012