I am trying so hard to get organized. Today in feature writing, my students are working on various assignments. I am available for questions, but I thought I'd work on my blog, too.
I look forward to blogging. It's a new addiction, like I need any new ones. I have all of these ideas. When you have a forum to write, it's great.
I actually have a list of things in my planner that I want to blog about when I have the time. Geez! I also have a list of scrapbook pages I want to create when I have the time. I also have a list of home projects that I really want to accomplish … And when am I going to have the time?
That remains to be discovered.
I am going to blog about these things in upcoming posts.
1) People I've seen on 21st St. (includes a man running barefoot and a 70-something woman carrying a cue bag on her shoulder)
2) My adorable sons and their not-so-adorable behavior.
3) My thoughts on discipline (not relating directly to children) and why it matters
4) What it feels like to have the time to blog all of these things.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Celebrate
My mom's getting baptized, and I'm so excited for her. She called to tell me today, and I was likely more subdued on the phone than I am on the inside.
My mom is a confirmed Lutheran, but not all churches accept the sprinkle as a true baptism. As my parents now attend a Baptist church, baptism is essential for membership in the church. Some will totally oppose this "regulation." I can already hear the responses that the masses might have. But, if you want to be a member of a certain body, you are in effect saying you believe the same things, too.
In all the churches I've attended, baptism has been described as an outward sign of an inward process. Becoming a Christian is a personal thing. It's between you and God, but your journey should not end there. If it does, you will still have a spot in heaven, but you will miss the extraordinary blessings right here on earth. And another key is that you have to be able to understand this choice before you can make it. That's why some faiths do not believe in baptizing infants. We do believe in dedicating their lives to God, but the whole personal relationship is just that -- personal. That's another reason why you won't find a "baptism primer" in our churches. We roll the baptism tank out as many times as we need to, but we don't have yearly baptisms of the 8-year-olds. However, I digress a bit.
People were made for relationships. One big relationship in particular. Basically, baptism is telling your family, friends and church family that you are a believer and have a relationship with Jesus. It's a public profession of faith. It says, "Yeah, I believe. I'm not perfect, but Jesus was. And, hey, I'm probably gonna need some help on this journey."
I will never forget the night I was baptized. It was late September, and I was a freshmen in college. I had gone on a weekend retreat with some Christian friends because it really sounded like a fun opportunity. I hate alter calls because I think they can sometimes manufacture responses. But, I was standing there thinking about my life and my walk with God and halfway wondering how many times the song would play.
Suddenly, I had this nagging and quite overwhelming desire to take my relationship with God to a new level. But, I had a little problem. I was sort of angry at my father, and that might be stating it a bit mildly. I was not sure how in the world I would ever be able to have any relationship with my dad, let alone a loving one.
Hmm. Something I could not take care of on my own was never something pleasing for the control freak in me. OK, I found myself walking down the aisle, but without the tears. I'm just not that kind of girl. I had never been baptized, but I could not recall a time I had not believed in Jesus.
I just didn't know how to make him real to my life. It was a fairly cool night in Missouri, and I shivered as I slipped into the camp pool that was being used for the baptisms. I shared why I was standing there with the excited group of students and their advisers.
As I was brought back up, I felt the most amazing things. First of all, there was a physical response for me. I felt warm and like a burden had been lifted from my shoulders. Actually, it was lifted. I felt it physically. It was like being wrapped up in a blanket fresh from the dryer. It was amazing. And then I felt really light and happy.
My dad was driving a truck over the road during this time, but he was home the next weekend I was home from college. That was a God thing. I hugged my dad for the first time in likely 15 years. Our relationship started right then and there. It wasn't always easy because we are both stubborn. But, now, I'm so proud to call him my dad and love him with all my heart.
My mom is a confirmed Lutheran, but not all churches accept the sprinkle as a true baptism. As my parents now attend a Baptist church, baptism is essential for membership in the church. Some will totally oppose this "regulation." I can already hear the responses that the masses might have. But, if you want to be a member of a certain body, you are in effect saying you believe the same things, too.
In all the churches I've attended, baptism has been described as an outward sign of an inward process. Becoming a Christian is a personal thing. It's between you and God, but your journey should not end there. If it does, you will still have a spot in heaven, but you will miss the extraordinary blessings right here on earth. And another key is that you have to be able to understand this choice before you can make it. That's why some faiths do not believe in baptizing infants. We do believe in dedicating their lives to God, but the whole personal relationship is just that -- personal. That's another reason why you won't find a "baptism primer" in our churches. We roll the baptism tank out as many times as we need to, but we don't have yearly baptisms of the 8-year-olds. However, I digress a bit.
People were made for relationships. One big relationship in particular. Basically, baptism is telling your family, friends and church family that you are a believer and have a relationship with Jesus. It's a public profession of faith. It says, "Yeah, I believe. I'm not perfect, but Jesus was. And, hey, I'm probably gonna need some help on this journey."
I will never forget the night I was baptized. It was late September, and I was a freshmen in college. I had gone on a weekend retreat with some Christian friends because it really sounded like a fun opportunity. I hate alter calls because I think they can sometimes manufacture responses. But, I was standing there thinking about my life and my walk with God and halfway wondering how many times the song would play.
Suddenly, I had this nagging and quite overwhelming desire to take my relationship with God to a new level. But, I had a little problem. I was sort of angry at my father, and that might be stating it a bit mildly. I was not sure how in the world I would ever be able to have any relationship with my dad, let alone a loving one.
Hmm. Something I could not take care of on my own was never something pleasing for the control freak in me. OK, I found myself walking down the aisle, but without the tears. I'm just not that kind of girl. I had never been baptized, but I could not recall a time I had not believed in Jesus.
I just didn't know how to make him real to my life. It was a fairly cool night in Missouri, and I shivered as I slipped into the camp pool that was being used for the baptisms. I shared why I was standing there with the excited group of students and their advisers.
As I was brought back up, I felt the most amazing things. First of all, there was a physical response for me. I felt warm and like a burden had been lifted from my shoulders. Actually, it was lifted. I felt it physically. It was like being wrapped up in a blanket fresh from the dryer. It was amazing. And then I felt really light and happy.
My dad was driving a truck over the road during this time, but he was home the next weekend I was home from college. That was a God thing. I hugged my dad for the first time in likely 15 years. Our relationship started right then and there. It wasn't always easy because we are both stubborn. But, now, I'm so proud to call him my dad and love him with all my heart.
Friday, September 08, 2006
On Motherhood
Picture the scene:
An eager 3-year-old boy wanting to ride his big boy bike while his 1-year-old brother throws an tantrum in the driveway.
As their mother, I manage to convince the youngest to push his little ride along down the street while Jacob pedals his big boy bike.
Now the youngest stops again, but Jacob pedals on down the street and a car is coming. Jacob is at the curb, but he's three and unpredicable. I scoop up Jared, the little ride-on firetruck and run down the street.
More Jared tantrums.
Moral of this story: One child should be "confined" at all times. Jared usually rides in the wagon. Silly, momma.
An eager 3-year-old boy wanting to ride his big boy bike while his 1-year-old brother throws an tantrum in the driveway.
As their mother, I manage to convince the youngest to push his little ride along down the street while Jacob pedals his big boy bike.
Now the youngest stops again, but Jacob pedals on down the street and a car is coming. Jacob is at the curb, but he's three and unpredicable. I scoop up Jared, the little ride-on firetruck and run down the street.
More Jared tantrums.
Moral of this story: One child should be "confined" at all times. Jared usually rides in the wagon. Silly, momma.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Regina's Religion
I have a lot of thoughts and ideas on religion. If you are one of those "easily offended" types, do not read this post. It won't sit well.
As the adviser of the newspaper, I received a copy of a letter from a rather active "religious" group in Topeka. I'll let you try to guess which one. Though this group is likely the most organized, anti-homosexual movement I've ever seen, it's not the only one. Basically, the gist of the letter was that Washburn was a dark, evil place, filled with dark, evil people. Hmm. However, it seems, more or less, that attending WU is the only choice because the "real world" requires a college education. So, how does that line up with their belief system? Would a God who so passionately "hates" people he actually created condone such evil for the sake of a job? Aren't there other less-evil colleges in the world? It does not seem to quite line up, does it?
And then, I am filled with other questions, too. Why is it that this group and some other groups are on such a mission against this one issue? What about the liars, cheats, murders, adulters, etc. Sin is sin in God's eyes.
And, by the way, he hates SIN, not people.
As the adviser of the newspaper, I received a copy of a letter from a rather active "religious" group in Topeka. I'll let you try to guess which one. Though this group is likely the most organized, anti-homosexual movement I've ever seen, it's not the only one. Basically, the gist of the letter was that Washburn was a dark, evil place, filled with dark, evil people. Hmm. However, it seems, more or less, that attending WU is the only choice because the "real world" requires a college education. So, how does that line up with their belief system? Would a God who so passionately "hates" people he actually created condone such evil for the sake of a job? Aren't there other less-evil colleges in the world? It does not seem to quite line up, does it?
And then, I am filled with other questions, too. Why is it that this group and some other groups are on such a mission against this one issue? What about the liars, cheats, murders, adulters, etc. Sin is sin in God's eyes.
And, by the way, he hates SIN, not people.
On being called a butthead
I love many things about my son's preschool. It's full of great teachers, and Jacob is very happy there. He started there full time in early July, and has brought home lots of great artwork, much of which he insists I take to work with me. But, there are a few drawbacks as well.
Tonight as I was reminding him to sit down and eat his dinner, he called me a butthead. Yes, my precious little son called his momma a butthead. Gene and I tried not to laugh. We failed, but still told Jacob we don't call people buttheads. To which, he replied that so-and-so at preschool calls him a butthed. I told him the next time so-and-so says that, he should tell Mr. so-and-so his momma says it's not very nice. Hmm. We'll see.
To change the subject, we started talking about what he might like for Christmas. He was open to socks, shirts and pjs. He wants "A Lightning McQeen night-night shirt and a Lightning McQueen wake-up shirt, too!" He was also very concerned about what we should leave for Santa. He decided that we could give him some chips, a cup of milk and a corndog.
By the way, preschool has also taught Jacob that his mommy is not fair. At times, I hear, "no fair, mommy!" And this possibly could be my biggest pet peeve in life. And, he has also put me on his "list" for naughty people.
Aren't children wonderful?
Tonight as I was reminding him to sit down and eat his dinner, he called me a butthead. Yes, my precious little son called his momma a butthead. Gene and I tried not to laugh. We failed, but still told Jacob we don't call people buttheads. To which, he replied that so-and-so at preschool calls him a butthed. I told him the next time so-and-so says that, he should tell Mr. so-and-so his momma says it's not very nice. Hmm. We'll see.
To change the subject, we started talking about what he might like for Christmas. He was open to socks, shirts and pjs. He wants "A Lightning McQeen night-night shirt and a Lightning McQueen wake-up shirt, too!" He was also very concerned about what we should leave for Santa. He decided that we could give him some chips, a cup of milk and a corndog.
By the way, preschool has also taught Jacob that his mommy is not fair. At times, I hear, "no fair, mommy!" And this possibly could be my biggest pet peeve in life. And, he has also put me on his "list" for naughty people.
Aren't children wonderful?
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