Why I Am Neither For Nor Against Legalized Same-Sex Marriage

On Friday, the Supreme Court's decision regarding same-sex marriage sent my Facebook newsfeed into overdrive.  I saw a lot of extremely polarized views, mostly either, "OMG this is the best thing ever!!!! #lovewins," or else, "OMG this country is on a downward spiral now!!!! #fallennation."  I don't agree with either of those views, but don't mistake me for being neutral, because I'm not.  I did see a few "neutral" posts that basically said, "I don't agree with it, but as long as it doesn't affect me, what do I care?"  That's not my viewpoint, either.

Brace yourselves.  I might be making every group angry.

I firmly believe that homosexuality is wrong.  I also believe that sex between a man and a woman, outside of the context of marriage, is wrong.  I believe that greed, indifference, lust, and covetousness are wrong.  I hold these beliefs because I am Christian, and I believe God's Word.

The thing is, God didn't put me here to legislate my beliefs onto others.  Yes, I believe what God said to be true, but nowhere did He say that I should enforce His Laws onto the country where I reside.  Or, to quote 1 Timothy 4:16, "Take heed to yourself and to the doctrine [emphasis added]."  Take heed to myself--pay attention to the way that I am living my life; to my standing with God; to how my life lines up with the Bible.  That doesn't mean I shouldn't care about my neighbors.  We need to pray, always pray.  But prayer is not the same as forcing someone to live in what you perceive is the correct manner.

This country where God has placed me was founded on the principle of personal liberty--that is, the liberty for each individual to live his or her life in the manner that he or she chooses, so long as it does not harm anyone else.  That means I have the right to seek employment where I choose, vacation where I choose, and marry whom I choose.  My neighbors also have those rights, even when I disagree personally with their choices.  And really, if you believe in God-given free will, you must recognize that God allows us to choose.  He allows us to choose wrongly.  He allows us to make mistakes.  He allows us to do things that will hurt us, because He loves us so much that He wants us to freely choose Him.  There wouldn't be the same joy in us choosing to follow God, if we were forced to do so.

At the same time, I believe that officially recognizing same-sex marriage is a mistake, because when "love" is the only listed requirement, that opens the door to all different kinds of love.  Incest?  Sure.  Pedophilia?  No problem.  After all, why shouldn't two brothers be allowed to marry?  It's not like we'd have to worry about their genetics when it comes to children.  And with so much push to allow young girls access to birth control without parental consent, isn't that basically saying that they already know their sexuality better than their parents?  So why shouldn't a 10-year-old girl marry a 35-year-old man?  Studies have already been done to determine if pedophilia is really just another sexual orientation.

The problem we have here is having the government involved in marriage at all.  It wasn't always, you know.  For many years marriage was a social institution, recognized by priests and villages but not regulated by the state.  The state has its claws in now, and it won't retract them easily.  Being in charge of marriage--something most adults crave--gives the state too much power.  If government were to remove itself from marriage, including all tax benefits, etc., marriages could once again be performed by priests, rabbis, shamans, or what-have-you, without needless coercive redefining.  Those who want to marry someone of the same gender can easily, in this day and age, find someone to perform that ceremony.  Those who want male-female only relationships can find places that line up with their beliefs.  And when government is removed from defining marriage, it can better protect children, which is one of its intended functions.  Of course children should not be allowed to marry, but when "love" is officially recognized as all that's needed to marry, that line can become blurred.

The point in all of this is personal liberty.  God gives us liberty.  Our Constitution is supposed to affirm that liberty.  It is not just to force an entire nation to abide by your personal beliefs, whether they be heterosexual-only marriages or love-makes-a-marriage marriages.  Get government out of marriage.  It should never have been in it to begin with.

So yes, I believe same-sex marriage is wrong, but not any more so than homosexuality itself, or sexual relationships outside of marriage. The Church, however, is not the State, nor should it be.  They each have their separate functions.  Carey Nieuwhof wrote an excellent piece about this.  

Live your life.  Live it the best way you know how.  Don't force others to fall in line with what you believe, whatever side of the issue you're on.  Be kind, be generous, be thoughtful.  Be the kind of person you want to meet.  You're much less likely to be frustrated with others' perceived idiocy that way.  And for heaven's sake, if someone around you is loudly spouting a different viewpoint, don't engage in an argument.  Maybe you could offer coffee, and a chance to discuss differences in a civil manner.

Another good read:  Why Christians Should Oppose a Government Definition of Marriage  

32

Today is my birthday.

My birthday.

I don't usually do a lot to celebrate, because it's my stepson's birthday also, and because as the years pass, I really don't feel the need for a huge celebration.  A bit of peace and quiet is what I like the most.

This year, though, I was kept busy all day.  By 9:00 a.m. my sister and I, along with Rowan and my sister's two children, were busy taste-testing cake, frosting, and fillings.  Okay, it was for a cake for my parents' 50th wedding anniversary, which will be celebrated this weekend, but I see no better way to start off my birthday than with tasting frosting!  I hadn't even had breakfast yet!

...Which leads to, after the taste-testing, we dropped off Rowan and my sister's eldest at my parents' house, and she took me out for brunch.  I can highly recommend Oregon Crepes in the Pringle Plaza!

 I came home and a good friend, Neil, had stopped by to visit.  He brought me a lovely card and two boxes of Earl Grey tea.  Hurray!  Unfortunately I was very, very tired by this point, so I went up for a birthday nap while Matthew and Neil chatted.  Birthdays are exhausting!

I woke up when my lovely friend Julie showed up to babysit my kids, while Matthew and I escaped to Dairy Queen (paid for with birthday cash from Carol).  It's so nice to get out with him without children!  And then Julie bought delectable margherita pizza for dinner. <3

And to top it all off, Wednesdays are VariTechnical Artistry days (VTA for short), which is what we've renamed our writer's group.  VTA days are my favorite days!  How wonderful and fitting that my birthday should land on a VTA day!  So Savanna, Richie, and Fletcher came over to join us.  Savanna brought me an absolutely gorgeous copy of Peter Pan.  I am so excited to read it with Rowan!  And I got to see artwork from Richie, and I had time to write, and Henry is asleep now, and Matthew is taking care of Rowan, and even though three people have gone home now, Savanna and I are still sitting and writing.

   



All in all, this has been one of the best birthdays ever.  I loved every minute.  And now I'm off to read Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator with Rowan, which is even better.  I am so very blessed!  Thank you all for giving me such a wonderful, fabulous, splendiferous, absolutely magnificent day!  I love you all!

Father's Day, and Other Happenings

Life has been busy.  It's been hectic.  It's been crazy and exciting and rushed and insane.  The house we live in officially went on the market a few weeks ago, which means we've been attempting, with mixed success, to keep our house at the height of realtor perfection.  I have never been particularly neat (although I would love to be), and with two small children in the house, it's been challenging.

So.  Last week another realtor contacted our realtor and said he'd like to show the house Saturday evening.  Naturally, we have to be out of the house while it's shown.  We elected to just sit in the park across the street while it happened.  We waited and waited and waited and waited....

At last Paul called our realtor and he said he'd been trying to reach the other realtor, with no success.  Extremely annoying, to be sure! 

Then yesterday, Father's Day, our realtor had an open house planned for our house.  Paul told us it was from 1 - 4 p.m.  Our house was still mostly neat from Saturday, but a few things needed to be touched up.  We all felt the pressure of time.  Tempers were short, and sometimes got lost.  Matthew watered the garden with Henry, and then, bless his soul eternally, took the small ones and Noah out of the house and to the park, so that Paul, Carol, and I could clean in peace.  And wow, we made it look dazzling.  I even finally managed to get the study cleaned up.

We were out of the house before 1:00, and we made our way to Minto Brown Island Park in Salem.  We figured it would be a good place to hang out for a few hours.  I had to make a run to the store for a few necessities, so Matthew again took the children (he amazes me!) and Noah took Lili to the dog park.  That's right; we had our dog with us, too.  Around 2:15 I got a text from Paul:  It turns out the open house was actually scheduled for 2:30 - 5:30.  We'd been out with the children for an hour and a half, and THE OPEN HOUSE HADN'T EVEN STARTED YET.

To make things more difficult, the kidlings were tired of the park.  I thought of my parents; I had really wanted to go see my dad on Father's Day, but I thought they might still be in Seattle.  My mom's brother is in the hospital there.  I figured I should call anyway and find out.  And...they were home!  I asked if we could crash their house with five people and a dog, and my mom said, sure!  Bearing in mind that they live in a single-wide trailer with a very small (but thankfully fenced) yard.  And two of my sisters (one with her husband and two children) and one of my brothers were already there!  Haha!

So there we went.  The children were charmed by Lili.  She is very sweet and playful.

 My brother-in-law grilled steaks, one of my sisters made a delicious Asian salad, my mom made fabulous baked potatoes, and we had a fabulous time.  Hurray!  And Happy Father's Day, Dad!

Henry and the Broken Bone

Monday last week, Henry (3 years old) fell off a ladder.  Twice.  At least, I'm assuming it was twice; we didn't actually see it happen the first time, and since Henry is mostly nonverbal, he couldn't tell us.

Anyway, the realtor who's listing our house was over to take pictures, so I had put up the ladder to the loft in Henry's bedroom.  I left it up because, well, since he learned to climb he's been very careful about it and has never had a problem with it.  I was downstairs talking with a friend when Henry started howling.  I zoomed up the stairs and got there at the same time as Matthew.  We found Henry lying on the floor, crying.  I picked him up and snuggled him until he felt better, and Matthew took the ladder down.  I went back downstairs.

About five minutes later the howling began again.  I raced back up the stairs to find Henry on the floor again, and the ladder up.  Rowan, our 6-year-old, had put it up.  (I must admit that I am somewhat impressed, as the ladder is very heavy.)  He reported that Henry had fallen from the second or third rung--not very high.  We didn't worry much about it then; I snuggled Henry for a long while, but he still was upset.  I gave him ibuprofen and he went to sleep for an hour.

When he woke up, the crying began again.  This can't be right, I thought to myself.  He shouldn't still be in pain from it.  Matthew agreed, and we took him to the ER.  It's a small one, and usually not very busy.  That night, although it was busier than usual, we got in to a room within 30 minutes.  When the doctor came in to examine Henry, he did a very quick exam.  "No contusions on the head.. standing straight.. can't feel anything wrong with his spine.. Okay, take him home and bring him back if he starts vomiting."  He explained that they don't like to do scans on small children unless they see something obviously wrong; and he said that it was perfectly normal for Henry to still be crying four hours after the accident.  I thought the first part sounded logical, but I knew it wasn't normal for Henry to still be crying.  Maybe I should have pushed more.  But the doctor was already moving on to the next patient, so we packed up and went home.  (The fact that we were hearing phrases from the patient next to us like "abscess" and "groin" and "scrotal sac" might have had something to do with it.)

Henry cried Tuesday.  We gave him more ibuprofen, and then he was happy for a few hours until it wore off.  He cried again.  He cried Wednesday, and I noticed that he wasn't using his left arm.  He also wasn't sliding down the stair railing, like he usually does.  I decided to call his doctor.  His regular doctor.  We went in that afternoon and his doctor said he most likely had fractured his arm.  He put Henry's arm in a splint and gave us orders to go to the hospital (a different one) and get x-rays.

I know his seat belt is wrong.  I fixed it.

It turns out he had fractured his arm.  It was what the doctor called a "buckle fracture."  He said to leave it in the splint until Monday, then bring him in to the clinic for a cast.  Poor Henry!  To be trapped in a cast for the summer!  I told my family about the situation, and they were all very indignant.  My brother-in-law, a volunteer firefighter, said he was going to "raise Hell" with the ER about not doing scans that first day.  I am torn between being angry and being understanding.  When you have a patient like the one next to us, it can be easy to dismiss a small boy showing no outward signs of injury.  On the other hand, my boy deserves thorough treatment.

Well, we went in Monday to get Henry's cast.  The doctor asked if he'd been trying to take the splint off, and we said no.  He said he would recommend just leaving it in a splint then, since it was mostly stable, and then we'd also be able to take it off for bathing.  We decided to go with that option, and he made a molded splint for Henry.

Henry is much happier now that his arm is stabilized.  I think it must really have been hurting him.  The doctor said he just has to wear it for three weeks.  He's already begun sliding down the banister again.  Lord help us in the next few weeks!

At the doctor's recommendation, we put a sock over the splint to keep it clean.  Henry is fascinated.

Children

I'm nearly at the end of a long day, and I am just so done.  Drained.  Exhausted.  Finished.  It's not that the kids were horrible (they weren't) or that bad things happened (they didn't).  Being a mother is just so darn tiring.

Before anyone jumps on my case and says that fatherhood is tough, too, let me just state that I am already aware.  It's tiring.  It's exhausting.  Okay.  But this post is about me, and I am not, and will never be, a father.

And in this household, at least, while Matt works at least as hard as I do, he just doesn't get swarmed by the children like I do.  That's what really gets me -- having small beings fling themselves at me and on me All Day Long. They pet my legs.  They caress and mangle my hair.  They sit on my head.  They butt their heads into my stomach.  They are completely without mental boundaries in their attack on me, touching me in places I don't want to be touched, then flitting away before I can reprimand them.  That's just in fifteen minutes, but they can keep it going all day.

When I am done preparing their food and sit down to eat my own, Henry in particular will climb on my lap, purposely putting his beaming face between me and my fork.  If I try to duck around him, he moves his head to maintain the blockade.  This morning he kept trying to put his feet in my cup of tea, I guess because I was giving it too much attention (drinking it).

And the bra snapping.  I don't know why Henry is so fascinated by it, but any time I pick him up or sit next to him, he tries to reach in my shirt and snap my straps.  This is strictly Not Allowed -- I always remove his hands, and then he sobs in anguish, making me feel like a heartless mommy.

I love my kids.  Really, I do.  But by midmorning I am ready to hop on a plane to Hawaii and not look back for a month.  I keep telling myself I'll sit down and write after they're asleep, but half the time I fall asleep with them, and the other half I'd usually rather do something mindless, like play Candy Crush.

...To prove a point, it's 2:58 a.m. now, and I've just woken up again next to my peacefully slumbering children.  I obviously I didn't get done whatever I was planning to do after the kids passed out. Eat ice cream, maybe?

I should add that I love my children very much, and on the extremely rare occasions I've been away from them for the night (maybe 5 nights in 6.5 years), I've missed them like crazy.  They are sunshine bursting through the walls and windows, flooding my soul with the joy of summer.  They are high-pitched shrieks and laughter, endless giggles as they chase each other through the house.  They are sweet little arms wrapping around my neck, little heads nestling on my shoulder, little voices whispering, "I love you, Mama."

They are the pinnacle of my life thus far, my trembling heart walking around in reckless little bodies. They are my everything, and I love them so very much.

I bet I would love them even more after Hawaii.

Unexpected Friendships

Some friendships are easy to understand.  A friend introduces us, we have things in common, we talk and get along, and it all goes from there.  That's how it usually happens for me.  That's how I met my Very Best Friend, who happens to be my husband.  That's how I met my children's godmother.  Some of my best friends are my family members.  Or sometimes I work with someone and we just click.  Sometimes, though, life throws a friend at me that I just wasn't expecting.

One of my best friends is a teenage boy.  He actually started out as my younger stepson's friend, coming over nearly every day during the summer, accompanied by his brother.  They walked together; they gamed together -- they were nearly inseparable.  The most that I thought about him was to wonder if we'd need an extra place at dinner, or if there was room in the van.

In August of last year, my stepson Titus moved to Texas to live with his mom, and Fletcher was left at a loose end.  He kept coming to our house anyway, mostly out of habit, I think, and would sit at the counter and eat cookies while I worked in the kitchen.  And we talked, and talked, and talked some more.  We exchanged suggestions for books, music, and movies.  And more important than talking, we listened.  I listened to him, and he actually listened to what I said.

Shortly before Christmas, I realized that I no longer thought of him as Titus's friend, but as my friend.  I mean, of course he's still Titus's friend, too, but I no longer made that distinction between his friend and my friend.

It's not at all what I was expecting.  I'm an INFP and I don't make close friends easily.  I like people, and I can be friendly, but those I count among "close" friends are few and far between, and are almost always bookish introverts as well.  Fletcher is most definitely an extrovert, loud and lively and highly energetic.  He likes gaming and watching videos on YouTube, neither of which appeals to me.  It's just odd to me that someone so very different from me could become such an important friend.

I guess what it really boils down to is that I had never bothered to look past the wildly different exterior to see any of his other qualities.  For so long I completely overlooked his compassion, his wonderful artistry, his musical creativity, his sense of humor, his willingness to help, his amazing photography, his ability to really listen, his love for good books and movies, the way he connects with small children, and the reassuring familiarity of a knock on my door at 2:05.  He's like a brother, a son, a nephew, and a cousin, all rolled into one.  He's family.  

I'm actually not writing this as an Ode to Fletcher, although it might sound that way.  I don't even know what he thinks about his classification.  He might be embarrassed to be talked about like this.  I just keep thinking about how I nearly missed one of my best friends, simply because I had already mentally cataloged him -- teenage boy, loud, sometimes obnoxious -- and didn't bother to look further.  And it makes me wonder, how many good friends are you missing out on?  I can't be the only oblivious, snap-judgment person around.  A wonderful addition to your group of friends could be sitting right next to you, and you might not even know it.

It's all about taking the time to really see people and not write them off before you even get to know them.  Friends are some of the best things anyone can have, and there's always room for one more.

Treatments and Options

It has been a long week.  I mean, really, really long.

As you might remember, Matthew's MS doctor put him on oral steroids a few weeks ago to try to control his current MS flare-up.  He hasn't noticed any difference thus far.  Monday the 9th he spoke on the phone with his doctor, who said she'd try to get him scheduled for I.V. steroids.  Appointments usually take a while to make at the VA Hospital, so we were surprised when he got a call the very next day to schedule.  And they were able to get him in right away!  It's a 3-day treatment, so he made appointments for Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.

Well, since  Matthew's eyesight is still not reliable, I have to drive him.  Not counting any time actually spent at the hospital (check-in, waiting, appointment, getting travel pay), it's a 3-hour trip.  This meant getting last-minute babysitting three days in a row for long periods of time.  It can be tough to get childcare just for a quick trip to the grocery store.

My heroes for those three days are my sister-by-birth Dorcas and my sister-by-choice Savanna.  Dorcas took my kidlings for Wednesday and half of Thursday; Savanna picked them up from Dorcas on Thursday and brought them home, and watched them again on Friday.  Savanna said Fletcher also helped her out a good bit on Friday before he had to leave for work, for which I am very thankful.

So--we drove up to Portland and back Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.  By the end of that time we were burnt out and frazzled, and so were the kids.  They missed us, and their crazy behavior told us so.  Oh my, their behavior has been enough to make me want to rip my hair out!  And Saturday I had more things going on, because my Uncle Jerry was in town visiting, and I hadn't seen him for probably close to ten years.  I didn't want to pass up the opportunity!  So Uncle Jerry and my sister Annetta drove out to my house to hang out for a while.  I was very, very glad not to be driving anywhere!

 Today we were supposed to go have dinner with the family in Salem, but my children were acting out in the most dreadful ways.  I'm afraid I lost it and started yelling.  It takes so long to develop patience!  In any case, I decided it would be better to stay home.  Poor Rowan sobbed for twenty minutes after I told him, although he had been warned many times about having to stay home if he did not obey.  Sometimes it seems like potential consequences just don't click in his mind.  Sigh..

Now I'm counting down the minutes to bedtime while Rowan and Henry watch Go, Diego, Go!  Actually I've been anticipating bedtime since at least 4:30.  I am so ready to stop being an adult today!

There's one more thing I should mention.  When Matthew spoke to his doctor on Monday, they discussed the fact that Tecfidera has not been controlling his multiple sclerosis like it should be.  So--in all probability, he's going to go back on Tysabri, at least for a while.

Yes, that Tysabri.

Yes, the medicine that could potentially give him a fatal brain disease.

Yes, the medicine he stopped taking because antibodies for that fatal brain disease were found in his blood.

This is an extremely scary thing for us.  We don't know what will happen if/when he starts up Tysabri again.  He's stopped taking the Tecfidera so it can be completely out of his system before he starts the other.  Who knows?  It might make everything better, give him feeling in his feet again, bring his pain levels down from the permanent-minimum of 5.  It might do nothing.

It might kill him.  We simply don't know.  That is a risk that Matthew is prepared to take, because the way things are going now is simply not sustainable.  He is exhausted simply by existing.  Breathing.  Opening his eyes.  Making a cup of tea.  Standing.  Sitting.  Any one of those drains his energy far past what you or I would call extreme fatigue.  Resting for a while sometimes helps, but not always.  Sleep sometimes helps, but not always.  The fatigue just goes on and on and endlessly on.

So pray for us, please, as we approach the medicine transition time.  Pray that we make the right decisions for Matthew's health.  Pray that we keep enough strength to get through each day.  Pray that we don't lose our focus on what is important.  Pray that we show kindness and love to our children even when we're grumpy and tired and just want to crash.

And if you feel like taking the children off our hands for an hour or two--we would sure appreciate it.

Please join our Walk MS team, Mighty Socks.