The sun peeked out from the gloomy clouds this morning, lighting up the trees in the backyard. I loved the play of shadows from the houses, the bright colors of the autumn leaves, and the sun at it’s low angle first thing in the morning, so I ran for my camera.
I chose to ignore my Facebook account last week. Some of you think this is dumb and unnecessary while others of you think social media is of the devil. So let’s just say there is a wide variety of opinions on the matter.
I read my Facebook newsfeed quite faithfully because it connects me to people. I love to know what’s going on in my friends’ lives and I find it completely fascinating. In some ways it grounds me and also equips me for real life connections. All good there. But I am also too easily influenced by everyone else’s thoughts. When a friend posts a link to a great article, I really want to read it. It sits in my brain as being a matter of utmost importance and I end up adopting the battles other people find significant. My brain started getting tired. My filter that separates “what you find important” from “what I find important” is a very flexible one. This serves me well in real life (as an ESFJ) and I will be a great listening ear and fight in your corner when you need me to. But just because someone posts an interesting thought or article doesn’t mean they need me. And sometimes I need a break from all the influences.
During my week off of Facebook and Instagram and People.com and the like—don’t laugh, or do; yes, do—I had less to do online and definitely felt the grip of What’s happening? lessen in my mind. I had to make sure to text and email friends privately to keep up with them rather than feel connected by reading their statuses. I didn’t read about Miley Cyrus for one straight week (hot diggity dog, what a relief!). I spent a lot of time working on photography, which is the way it should be during my busiest season.
Will I change my online reading habits in the future? I’m hemming and hawing on deciding anything. One one hand the addictive need I have to get on Facebook—and trust me, it is addictive—is not something I want to invite back into my life. On the other hand, I’ve missed keeping up on your lives. My guess is that I will struggle to figure out a helpful, life-affirming balance for myself. What I do know is that taking a break every so often is a beneficial choice for me.
If you’ve been reading the Prairie Box for some time now then you’re well-acquainted with the fact that I have one daughter and that Jeremy and I are foster parents. If you’ve been reading for a really long time, then you know that we want more kids in our family. Featured on A Musing Maralee today is a tidbit about the baby we wanted and lost to miscarriage in the fall of 2006.
Writing a letter to that dreamed-for, hoped-for baby was not an easy task. But it was a really helpful, cathartic exercise. I’ve lumped the loss of that baby in with the subsequent years of infertility and it’s become a giant ball of yucky grief that I shove to the back of my mind. Remembering the miscarriage and writing a letter reminded me that my pregnancy involved one particular person at a particular point in time. I was pregnant! And it was great! I won’t say that one letter will relieve me from the giant grief ball, but it’s nice to have it unravel a bit more over time and, in doing so, lose it’s power over me.
**The flowers featured here were given to me by my awesome husband. I should write a post sometime about how he loves physical touch and I love gifts, and how I keep bringing him little presents from the store and he wants to hug me a lot. Fifteen years of marriage, folks, and we’re just now starting to figure out this love language thing.
I’m taking a week off of Facebook to see what it’s like to be a little less plugged-in. My general feeling after these first few days is that 1) I miss knowing what my friends are up to and I’m forced to find other ways to interact with them and 2) taking a break is nice.
I’m also forgoing my routine time-wasting reading online which includes a gamut of entertainment, celebrity and pop-culture news. I find myself poring over other news sites to find out the gossip I’m missing. Genius, I know. The thing is I’m way too lazy to explore much online—I’m a total creature of habit—so the end result is that currently I’m not online as much. That’s a good thing. Really, it is.
I also said I’d give up blogging this week. That was stupid so I’m blogging anyway. This blog is a happy home for my photos and words and has been for a long time now. No need to give it up this week.
Finally, I’ve been writing down pseudo Facebook statuses today. It’s odd how Facebook has affected the way I think and now I find myself wanting to share brief moments of my day with a wide audience of people. Weird, right? Here are my instead-of-Facebook statuses:
12:06pm
There’s a reason why people like southern California. Case in point, weather.com: Clitherall, MN, 43 degrees. Port Townsend, WA, 48 degrees. Lincoln, NE, 54 degrees. The Disneyland Resort: 79 degrees.
2:14pm
In case you were wondering, only children are used to having the WHOLE couch to themselves while watching cartoons. #getouttamyspace
7:55pm
How many parents have to tell their kids, “No, you can’t have a canvas in the bathtub”? #alwaysanartist
Yesterday I became a Jury Duty Reject. I was simultaneously relieved and disappointed my name hadn’t been called for the 12 members of the jury and two alternates. Where did I go wrong? Clearly I had to relay the truth in court that day. Was it the question I answered about possibly having sympathy for a potential witness? Or the part where it was revealed I’m both a mom and a foster mom? Or was it the confirmation that I have a degree in education? Who knows? Jury selection is not my area of expertise. However, today I find myself itching to be back in a courtroom. What a fascinating process.
When we potential jurors filed into the courtroom yesterday the defendant was sitting at a table with his attorney. In that moment, you are faced with your own prejudices, your own shortcomings, your own preconceived notion of right and wrong, democracy, fairness and the like. All these thoughts, compounded by the newness of the experience—for me at least—was dizzying. And electrifying. In short, I felt like passing out when I realized the gravity of the situation. And I am not your typical damsel in distress. I thought I was prepared for this moment. In all fairness, the charges alone involved some graphic and disturbing details. Surely I was not the only juror unsettled by it all.
Another feeling arose as the day went on: pride. Like, I’m proud to be an American. I was proud to be a part of this incredible court system where the defendant truly did get to be innocent until proven guilty and where the jurors vowed to try the accused based on evidence only presented in court. And the whole 12 jurors thing? Brilliant. It’s not just a judge or just one person or even three using level-headed common sense. It’s 12 people. Also, these people? My fellow Nebraskans. Again, the sense of pride was strong. From all careers and income levels and job experiences, these 36 people (plus a few leftover for alternates if needed) vowed to tell the truth. In the courtroom I heard some people admit very hard truths while being questioned by the attorneys and judge. It was an amazing sense of having a level playing field—something I’ve never seen so blatantly practiced anywhere else in my normal everyday life.
As I took a lunch break yesterday I prayed hard for wisdom. I both hoped to be chosen for that jury and hoped to be passed by. But I knew if I was chosen, I’d potentially have to make some challenging decisions regarding a person’s guilt. The pressure momentarily felt overwhelming until I recalled that God already knows the truth. As important as it is to have a panel of jurors determine someone’s guilt or innocence, the final judgement will be far more important. A guilty party could walk free if the right evidence isn’t presented, but a man cannot hide from his sins. A day is coming where all people will be judged and a righteous and perfect God will do the judging.
He will bring justice to the poor of the people; He will save the children of the needy. (Psalm 72:4)
I long for the day this world will be set right again.
My house, my mess!
My photos accompany Maralee Bradley’s words on Her View From Home. Go check it out: What Would Jesus Dust?
I shot images in my house today for an upcoming project.
This picture reminds me of Jeremy’s new habits for a healthy lifestyle. His breakfast of choice every day? Oatmeal. And lunch every day? Fresh vegetables (with a dash of onion powder) and a little fruit. Add to that routine a four to five mile walk several times a week and we’re all seeing some great results. The cutting board reminds me of how proud I am of his hard work.
I cannot stand eating the same thing day in, day out, so no, I will not be attempting this diet. But it’s amazing how such a positive change affects the whole household. I’m inspired by my husband. And I also happen to love him a ton. xxoo
Sometimes I’ll go trolling through the picture files on my hard drive, looking for something new to tinker with. While I have plenty of images related to my professional life, I’ve been surprised lately at how few personal photos I’ve taken. The lesson here is: use your camera.
Just keep shooting.
Playing.
Dreaming.
Exploring.
Kids are mean.
Adults are mean.
Sometimes people are kinda rotten.
Today a little girl told my daughter that she “wasn’t cool” and then proceeded to get up from the lunch table and find another spot to sit down.
[This is me envisioning doing terrible things to that little girl.]
But I get it. I really do. I get it because I am mean, too. I have done means things, both as a kid and as an adult.
But I also get it because kids are forgiving. Adults can be empathetic. I really don’t want to hurt people’s feelings. We are all nice, at times. We are all really not nice, at times. We know what bullying is because we’ve been bullied and we’ve been the bullies. If not out loud, then definitely in our hearts.
So today, with my child who exhibited no hurt feelings at the rudeness of this fellow third grader, I talked about kindness. And I reminded her to be the kind of person Jesus want us to be—kind, loving, compassionate, friendly. I reminded her to look for the kids who are getting left out and laughed at. I reminded her that unkindness really is “uncool.”
I also talked about how people will say mean things in this life. It’s just a fact of this life. You can’t run and hide from the hard things; they exist so we must be aware of them. But you can confront them. You can recognize that sometimes people say things that just aren’t true. And other times you can understand that if you burp at the lunch table and then laugh, that some little girls will not want to hang out with you.
Sometimes you’ve got to tamp down the weirdness (a phrase I’d like to put on a t-shirt actually) and then sometimes you’ve got to find those quirky friends who get your version of weird.
But whatever you do, remember to be kind. Quit being a jerk to those who don’t look the way you want them to. Be gentle with the burpers. It’s what Jesus would do.
And parents, be gentle with your kids. School can be rough so make sure that you are their soft places to fall, that home is a respite from the mean people. Affirm your children without being aghast at the rudeness of others. The rest of the world may be rough, but your kids need to know that you love them unconditionally, quirks and all.
