bits of sunshine

you've seen the pictures

you've seen the pictures
i know you have
the ones of black humans
clothed in t-shirts and shorts,
carrying children
and a few belongings in plastic shopping bags
the pictures of white men
wearing bullet proof vests and boots and hats,
astride horses,
furling the ends of their reins like whips

you've seen the pictures
i know you have
fear, or is it resolve?
in those eyes looking up from dark faces
the pictures
of resolve, or is it hatred?
in the those eyes looking down from light faces 

you've seen those pictures
of haitians being rounded up,
pushed back,
herded away,
into the river 

i don't need to post them  
you've seen them  

my heart dropped and my stomach clenched
when i first saw the pictures
and as i continue to see them 

do you feel angry? one friend asked me

no, i don't necessarily feel anger. 
i feel a profound and deep sadness,
my spirit laments,
i am horrified that this is the way
human are being dehumanized

and i don't need to show you those pictures 

blessed are those who don't need to see it (again) to believe

may the fruit of your belief
be a total commitment
to deconstructing the systems
rife with vestigal slavery
that continue to bloody and batter black bodies *

i have such a collection of screen shots on my phone,
quotes and thoughts collected last monday and tuesday
let me summarize some of them for you:

i won't show you the pictures

and do you really need to see them again to believe? 
does america's state sanctioned terrorism
upon black bodies
horrify and shock your conscious at this point?
is it surprising? 
how many black people will it take
to bear withness
through the words of their testimonies
and the brutalization of their bodies
for you to believe? 
who else must have their dignity trampled on
by the public display of their inhumane torture? 
photographs and videos
of real people
being murdered and abused
are circulated throughout the media
as if the violence
black people endure
is casual and common. *

i won't show you the pictures, but

for clarity, we have:
white men on horses
with whips split reins, part of the bridle
(which looks like and is being used like a whip)
rounding up haitian people

these pictures do not "need context" 
this is blatant white supremecy,
anti-blackness,
and the very expression of american hatred
at the heart of ideas like "border safety"
this is not just horrible,
these actions completely disregard black humanity **

and i can't stop thinking about a james baldwin quote:
america became white -
the people who, as they claim, 'settled' the country
became white -
because of the necessity of
denying the black presence
and justifying the black subjugation. **

america is neither just nor honest nor equal. 
our history or present is niether herculean or heroic. 
america is racist. 
this is the national story and failure
and what we are forced to endure. 
and until the country faces this,
we the poeple will never be free. **

if you still don't think
that border patrol whipping black haitian asylum seekers with their reins
is rooted in white supremacy,
then remember that
asylum is legal
and that there are ~600,000 undocumented (mostly white) canadians
in america
and you never once saw boder patrol
whip them, cage them, or block them from entry. ^

it is not illegal for immagrants to travel to or otherwise approach the united states border to seek awylum as a political refugee
8 U.S.C. 1158 (codified the Refugee Act of 1980) 
"in general, any alien who is physically present in the united states or who arrives in the united states (whether or not at a designated port of arrival and in cluding an alien who is brought to the united states after having been interdicted in international or united states waters), irrespecitve of such alien's status, may apply for asylum in accordance with this section or, where applicable, section 1225(b) of this title."
8 U.S.C. 1158(a)(1)

also, the hatians at the border aren't undocumented immigrants
or illegals or migrants. 
they had a presidentail assasination,
an earthquake,
and a hurricane in less than two months. 
they're asylum seekers -
maybe even refugees. *^

our leaders are addressing a humanitarian crisis
with a national security response. 
when we see mothers being tear gassed with babies in their arms,
when we see vulnerable people being pushed away by guards on horses,
when we hear talk about higher walls and more weapons . . .
this should bring us into the tension
that plays out along the borders every day. 
we are addressing a humitarian crisis
with a national security response. 
recently, we remembered the anniversary of 9/11. 
it is worth noting that before that date,
immigration was housed under the department of human services. 
after 9/11,
in response to a few brown bodies
who brought terror to the united states,
immigration was moved under the department of homeland security. 
what we see happening repeatedly now
is a mismatch. 
law enforcement officials have been hired to protect the country from outsiders. 
but the humanitarian crisis knocking on our door require a different response. ^*^

we have people at our borders,
tired, poor, huddled masses,
begging to be welcomed,
yearning to breathe free

and how do we meet them?  
we have pictures of how we meet them

and every posted image
of a white man on horseback,
driving terrified babies, cowering women, split-rein whipped men
like herds to be sorted,
is normalizing perversion. 
trauma is contorted into images for consumption
a pornography of terror. 
violence is made mundane. 
this country has long attempted
to normalize violence against black bodies. 
resisit this pathology.  

texas,
where hatian children, women, and men
are being beaten back for craving survival,
is a state where god-fearing children, women, and men
scheduled lynchings after church. 
they sent each other photo postcards of murdered children, women, and men as keepsakes,
or would just go home with severed genitals, charred skin, fingers, and eyes. 
the memory titillated. 
these heirlooms of the power to terrorize
were a catechism of supremecy,
an uncilvilized communion of civilization.

the next generation is being discipled
into dehumanizing and violent lust. 
digital heirlooms of terror are being passed. 
history repeats itself. 
resist. 
black bodies are sacred. 
treat them as such.  ^^

an incredible artist i follow, nikkolas smith, 
did a speed painting on tuesday morning of toussaint louverture on a horse 
toussaint louveture was a hatian general
who led the greatest uprising of enslaved people of all time
this is the only image of a haitian person and a horse that i want imprinted in my mind 

and what must we do? 

do not forget to show hospitality to strangers,
for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels. 
hebrews 13:2

you shall treat the foreigner as if they were your own flesh and blood,
and you shall love them as you love yourselves,
for you were once foreigners in the land of your sojurning. 
leviticus 19:34

we love you, people sojurning from haiti,
you are made in the image of God,
your lives matter

 

* amber w sims   ** dante stewart   ^ qusim rashid, esq.   ^^ sharifa    *^ sawyer hacket   ^*^ sarah quezada

cancel culture

cancel culture

currently a buzz-word.  a trendy comment.

 * a certain loud individual is not being allowed to use certain social media platforms.

{gasp} cancel culture

nothing in the constitution prohibits a private company from enforcing its own policies; if anything, the First Amendment protects a company’s right to do so. social media platforms are owned by private companies. their owners/CEOs/boards get to decide who is allowed to use their platforms. 

* an estate decided to look at some of the books they own and not publish some of those any longer.

{gasp} cancel culture

they own the books. they may decide not to publish what they own if they wish.  also, nobody has "cancelled" Dr. Seuss. over the last few years, people have brought to our attention the part that Seuss played in anti-Japanese sentiments in this country during WWII, and other negative stereotypes that he advanced in his children's books and political cartoons. i don't believe that we should just tell kids that he was the greatest children's book author; there are so many authors who could be celebrated - many who didn't write horrible stereotypes into their cartoons and stories. this doesn't mean we can't still enjoy the Grinch and other Seuss stories - but Seuss certainly doesn't need to be on a pedestal for the entire month of march. 

 * no more Mr. tagged to Potato Head.

{gasp} cancel culture

we all know we could make those potatoes be any Mr./Mrs./mashup we wanted to before. who didn't put the big eyelashes with the mustache and the made-up lips with the bushy eyebrows at one time or another when they were a kid? Potato Head is certainly a sufficient name.  

 * a statue is being taken down.

{gasp} cancel culture

there is a marked difference between saying we won't celebrate and honor those who perpetuated sins against those who are also Americans and actually erasing history. there is also great value in looking at intent - many monuments, statues, etc, were only erected to intimidate during times where progress and growth were becoming a possible reality. i will absolutely NOT celebrate those who participated in enslaving or massacring entire groups of people. this is not the same thing as erasing any part of history - all of this will still be taught in schools and will still be in books and museums and in print and in online articles and archives. but, i think that we all know that some people do not deserve a statue. i recommend you read this article to understand the way the removal of a Columbus statue from the MN State Capitol grounds was handled.  

 

i think that if we truly want to understand cancel culture, we need to meet a Native American neighbor, sit with them, shut our mouths, and listen to how their parents and grandparents were forbidden to speak their own language, forbidden to follow their religion (until 1978. one year before my husband was born. 1978, people. here. in the land of freedom of religion.). listen to how they were forced to remove their clothing; how they were shorn of their hair. listen to how somehow, when horrible things happen to Native American people, there is conveniently no one with the correct jurisdiction to take care of them, to bring justice to an unjust situation. listen. then we might begin to understand cancel culture.

meet a Black neighbor and listen to them tell us how they cannot trace their ancestry, because their ancestors were torn from their homeland, they were raped, they were killed, they were treated as one-fifth of a human being - as if that were better than being treated worse than an animal. listen to how often their neighbors and friends and children are suspended from school or locked up for crimes they didn't commit or sentenced many times more harshly than someone who is not Black. listen to how they are told to wear their hair. listen to which neighborhoods and circles they are welcome in and which they are excluded from. listen to someone try to talk black, but then turn on grammar police mode when a black person speaks in public or writes in a public forum. listen. then we might begin to understand cancel culture.  

meet a Japanese-American neighbor and listen to how their parent or grandparent was forced to give up home and property and all their goods and be moved into an internment camp - here. in this country. sixty years ago. in this land of the free. and listen to how the anti-Japanese sentiment persisted long after the camps were closed. listen. then we might begin to understand cancel culture.

these are just a few examples of cultures that have truly been cancelled here in the United States. land of the {some are} free. home of the {many are more} brave {than anyone should ever have to be}.  

before we (white people of European descent, many of us professing Christians) cry cancel culture, let's look at the words we are using and the situations we are talking about. sit with the words cancel culture. and think about what it would truly mean to have your culture cancelled. because ours hasn't been. and it's not in danger of being. 

as for me, i want to amplify the cultures that have for so long been cancelled.  there is so. very. much. we can learn.

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sources for this besides my own thoughts: conversations on facebook yesterday, particularly with jeannine and annemarie and kelly, and also this article

photos: the tree skeletons are my own, the layered artwork was done by this friend - who at some point shared Acts 17:26 - God has made of one blood all the peoples of the earth - and these beautiful words continue to inform the way i see my relation to people - we are all of one blood, all made by one Creator.  

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taken hostage by anxiety {written may 5, 2015 . . . finally posted october 29, 2019}

you know the feeling, when your chair tips back, and for a split second, you don't know if you are going to fall backward, or if all four feet will land and you'll be just fine?

that feeling is only supposed to last for a split second

but sometimes, for me, that feeling starts and lasts and lasts and lasts

i'm stuck in that anxious moment of extremely precarious balance

not just for a moment, but for moments, minutes, hours, even days

my breathing gets tight and shallow

my stomach clenches

my neck tightens

my shoulders tense and hold

i feel like i am on the edge of . . . of i don't know what . . .

i realized last spring that i could name this feeling - anxiety

and that i could describe this feeling - like i just did, here

and that this feeling isn't normal - i shouldn't regularly have this feeling - it should be reserved for split seconds and for traumatic events, like a phone call we hope will never happen, or investigating a scream from the backyard . . . it shouldn't happen when an everyday difficulty pops up, or for no apparent reason whatsoever . . .

i started to put this all together after ben brought it up to me - in an oh-so-kind and gentle way.  he asked me some questions and shared some thoughts with me after a class he took about trauma and anxiety and their symptoms and treatments.

and once i realized that i could name this feeling, and describe it, i started to think that i can maybe get beyond it . . . maybe i can start to relegate it to the situations where it is appropriate . . . maybe by naming the feelings, the body systems, the chemical reactions and nerve impulses, by recognizing, by being recognized, by naming situations and lengths of time and relationships that are part of my past, part of my story, maybe this naming will allow me to process, to build a framework for owning, controlling, and/or riding out the anxiety.

i also talked these things over with my health practitioner.  she helped me to find which foods i might need more of or less of or none at all of and which vitamins and minerals my body might need more of so that it correctly sends nerve impulses, so that my brain and systems will be more in sync within my body, and function within reality, not my perceived reality. 

ben has helped me to make some changes - drastic ones (where we live, what job i am doing), and seemingly smaller ones (in my own expectations of myself, in my perception of his expectations of me).

i have changed some of how i communicate with ben and with my kids.  i let them know where i'm at mentally, and i (usually) don't snap when they ask me if i'm ok or how i'm doing; i (usually) honestly, gratefully let them know.  and they have changed some of how they communicate with me.  because sometimes a listen is the very best medicine.  sometimes the only solution, the only answer needed, is a hug or an affirmation.   

and you know what?  since we moved (almost exactly one year ago), since i have been working on the naming, on the changing, on the eating, on the supplementing, on the talking, on the breathing, on the good stuff - in the last year, i have only had a couple hours taken hostage by anxiety.  just a couple hours of a very few days.

there is hope.  there is power in the naming, in the acknowledging, in the inviting other people in.  there is also power in the great love of someone recognizing and empathizing and standing by.  and hope is a beautiful usher to freedom.

  

actually, scratch that

the timeline's different for each of us,
but at some point you have to stop fighting
your parents or [a form of] religion 
or the no-good [person who hurt you] 
or quite possibly even yourself.  yes, yourself. 
signify this truce by beating your sword
into a plowshare.  actually, scratch that. 
i propose beating it into wind chimes. 
that way, you'll be gently recalled to the
forgiveness when subsequent winds blow. 
those notes will be a charmer's tune
easing the air around you, an alarming
remembrance that by no means did you give up,
but that by choice, you gave in to an older song.

from the jubilee by john blase
via @notes_from_an_urban_cabin on instagram

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these words resonated so deeply with me.  i love the word picture of beating the sword i would have used to strike back, to defend myself, to twist into my own heart and mind, beating and that sword into a wind chime - something beautiful.  there is, in this poem, the acknowledgement that though forgiven, there may be (there will be) murmurs and winds that re-call the hurt, the misunderstanding, the cruelty, the self-loathing.  and when these are recalled, the chime will be a gentle reminder that you chose forgiveness.  and the line that begins with easing and ends with alarming, you guys, this forgiveness stuff isn't easy.  it is hard, so hard.  that sword you choose to heat and hammer and mold and bend, this chime you make, this thing of beauty you fight for, it is hard-won, a visceral choice you made and make again and again, to not allow the hurt or self-loathing to become an ugly bitterness, but to create a graceful song of forgiveness. 

make a wind chime.  keep making wind chimes.  do not give up.  sing the ancient song of grace and triumphant forgiveness.

go gently, love fiercely, and be wonderful, my friends.

love, e

 

lessons from the bionicles

sometimes, what we have already is enough. 

a few days ago, isaac was telling ben and i that he wanted to buy some new lego bionicles. 

"don't the new bionicles look quite a bit like the hero factory guys you have?" we asked him.
"well, yeah, they do." 
"and don't you have quite a few of the original bionicle guys?" 
"well, yes," to that too. 
"so why would you need new ones?"

turns out the neighbor boy has two of the newer ones. and they are big. bigger than isaac's hero factory figures. so as soon as isaac had enough money saved up from some jobs, he asked us if he could spend it on new bionicles.

ok. parenting moment. just because i have enough money to buy something i want, doesn't mean that i should buy the thing right this second. i need to think about why i want it. one-upping my friend is not a good reason to buy something. ever. i also need to think about what i or the others in my life need or might need. i need to think about the fact that christmas is not so very far away. i need to think about having a bit saved away for a rainy day. i need to think about if something i have already would work. then i need to think about if this thing i want to buy is really the thing i want to buy. if, after all this thinking, i still want to buy it, then i should buy it!

after visiting for a while about all of this, isaac headed upstairs and we could hear the sounds of the lego bins. 

before too long, he came downstairs with this:

i didn't realize how big and involved these are! (the new ones don't hold a candle to the originals!) back when isaac first got a bunch of these (from a dear friend who's son was growing out of them), he had never built them from start to finish. he basically built their skeletons.  

that was cool. and isaac was maybe five-years-old. but i had no idea how really cool they could be!

i don't think isaac did either. after building more of them, he realized that he certainly didn't need to buy any bionicles. not only that, he didn't even want to!

he got down to business and built five of them! (the one on the far left is one his friend put together from more pieces isaac has, and the second from the left is one of his friend's new ones.) isaac is having a great time putting these together and playing with them and inviting his friend to play, too. 

and a couple days later, he told me a little list of people and the christmas presents he is planning for them. some things he needs to buy, some things he'll make, all very thoughtful. he even bought a birthday present for our tiny neighbor girl - her second birthday is tomorrow. 

these are the kinds of things that ben and i love talking over with our kids. partly because it helps us solidify who we ourselves want to be while we help our kiddos grow into people who live with kindness, joy and peace. 

be encouraged and be wonderful, my friends.
love, ~e

the what-ifs

"what will we do if dad doesn't come home?"  isaac asked me one day last summer when ben was gone on a detail. 

"what are you talking about?"  i asked.

"he could die out there, you know," he said.

and part of me wanted to tersely say, we are not going to talk about that.  don't even say that.  don't even think it!

but i realized that he was asking and maddie was listening and if i didn't talk it through, they would both just worry.

so, i said, "he could.  you're right.  but we would be ok."

"what would we do, though?" he asked. 

"we would keep doing school together and doing what we need to do and probably move into a littler house and just be us."  it's hard to think on your feet like this.  but i knew i had to. 

"you would have to get a job, mom," he said. 

"i already have three," i replied.  (i was in the process of finishing up one and starting two others at the time.)  "we'd be fine."

he just kept asking, and she just kept listening - her eyes so big.

i finally said, my voice getting all thick and my eyes pricking, "you know what?  God knows exactly what day He is going to take Dad to heaven.  it might be out on a fire.  it might be in our driveway.  it might be when Dad is an old, old grandpa and he just lays down one day to take a nap and doesn't get back up.  that's what i hope will happen.  but i just trust that God knows what He is doing.  and He knows what day He's taking Dad to heaven."

and isaac said, "well, i guess.  yep.  Dad will go to heaven, so that's good."  he was pretty fixated on the whole thing, though.  wanting to really talk through what it would be like if it was just the three of us.  i finally started to cry.  then isaac asked, "why are you crying, mom?"

and i said, "well, if you get to ask these questions, i get to cry.  i don't want Dad to be gone.  i can't wait till he gets home and we are all four together again."

and maddie came over and gave me a big hug and made her only contribution to the whole conversation, "i think it's time for some happy music."

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last week isaac was running an errand with a family friend. 

another man asked isaac what his dad does for work.  isaac proudly told him, "my dad is a wildland firefighter."

"oh, i'm sorry," the man said somberly.  "that is one of the most dangerous jobs."

when isaac told me this later, he told me, "mom, when he said that to me, i didn't feel good in my tummy."

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on saturday evening, i was up at the skate park with maddie and isaac. 

they were doing tricks.  they do some pretty crazy stuff, maddie on her scooter, isaac on his bike. 

and i thought, if one of them falls like isaac did last october, i would call . . . who would i call?  mom and dad are out of town . . . oh.  of course.  i would call ben's best friend here in town.  he'd help me scrape a kid up off the ground and decide if an injury was something i could take care of or something that would merit a trip to the ER.  ok.  well, good.  now that's settled.

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on sunday, while the kids and i were on our very long bike ride, maddie asked me, "mom, what would we do if you got really hurt or really sick while dad's gone?" 

well, here i had just thought through the night before what i'd do if one of them got really hurt.  "you would call m," i said.  "he'd come help you out." 

"i could call him?" she asked.

"yep.  he's dad's best friend.  dad would want you to call him if you needed help with anything.  if grandpa is home, you could call him.  but if he is away for work or a trip, you call m."

and we stopped right there and put the number in the cell phone that the kids have. 

later that evening, i was with m and his wife and told them about the conversation i had with maddie.  they were both very glad that i had told the kids to call them if we needed anything.  and now the kids' number is in m's phone.  so, we're all on the same page.

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ben's profession forces us to have some conversations that other people aren't necessarily forced to have with their children.  but why don't we all talk to our kids about these things? 

we should talk to our kids about what-ifs.  not in an alarmist or alarming way.  but matter-of-factly and with compassion.  the what-ifs do happen.  people get into car accidents.  people have heart attacks.  people fall.  other people make stupid choices that affect us and our family members.  people die.  people lose jobs.  people lose houses.  people get treated poorly or even terribly.  the what-ifs happen.  we should talk about them.  there are obvious times, when they happen to someone close to us, when they happen in our town, when our kiddos ask us questions.  we should talk about what-ifs, so that when one of them happens to us, or our kiddos, there is a context for talking about what's going on.  if we talk about hard possibilities, then, when one of them happens, maybe our kiddos will have some assurance that we knew something like this could happen and we maybe even have a plan already.   that way, when one of them happens, we'll know that we can talk things through with our kiddos; we maybe even have a plan already.

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think through some what-ifs, my friends.  make some plans.  let your kiddos know what to do if you get hurt or really sick.  let them know that you've thought about what life would be like if your spouse doesn't come home.  invite them in to the rawness and realness of life.  and love them there.  let them know that you love them enough to be real with them.  let them ask you the hard questions, and do your best to answer. 

be wonderful, my friends. 
love, ~e

i will always, always come for you. always.

oh beautiful girl of mine. 

no matter when, no matter where, no matter why.

i will always come for you.

if you get that shaky feeling in your tummy, you just pick up a phone and call me.

even if you begged to go, even if all the friends think the movie or the activity is a good idea, even if you feel like you'll be the odd one, even if it's super late, even if you feel like where you are isn't where you should be, even if . . . especially if . . .

i've told you.  and told you.

and you listened.

you called me.  on a tuesday afternoon.  not long after i dropped you off.  and you told me the movie wasn't one you wanted to see.  and i was saying that i'd throw my shoes on and be there in just three minutes while you were saying that you needed me to come get you.

and there you were.  waiting. 

and i jumped out of the car and wrapped you in a hug and bustled you into the car with me and you talked a little bit. 

but the next morning we talked a long time.  we talked about how Jesus went to all sorts of places to get all sorts of people.  and i told you that i'd come anywhere.  for any reason.  to get you. 

it's easy to know that i would come if things are fine and clean and nice.  Jesus went to those places - banquets, temples, open fields - to get people.  but he also went to the dark, ugly, hard places. 

Jesus went to the grave to get Lazarus.  he was dead and rotting.  and it wasn't his fault.  but where he was was awful.  and Jesus went right to the entrance of the cave, to the dark, to the stench and called Lazarus out into the sunshine, into the fresh daylight, and made him whole.

Jesus went to the graveyard to get the man indwelt with demons.  he was yelling and writhing and cutting himself.  and it wasn't his fault.  but where he was was awful.  and Jesus went right there.  and he called the demons out.  and he stayed with the man while he calmed and washed and cleaned himself. 

Jesus welcomed Mary Magdelene and forgave her and even though she had made wrong decisions and was in a place that was wrong and horrible - a place that many people would have judged her for - Jesus went and got her.  and he welcomed her and forgave her and restored her.

Jesus will always come for us.  anywhere.  whether where we are is because of our choices or not our fault at all.  whether where we are is ugly and horrible or clean and nice.  if we are lonely and lost and need finding and sometimes forgiveness and restoration, but always love, He will always come for us.

and i, a mom, will fiercely follow His example.  i will come for you, my daughter.  anywhere.

'even if i was in africa?' she asks me.  'i would find a way,' i say.  always, i will come for you.  always.

 

that's where we talk about stuff

{in this post i discuss how ben and i have handled our kids learning about swear words. just a heads-up for you, my dear readers.}

a sunny, warming-up spring afternoon.  ben and i were sitting on the swings while maddie and isaac were riding their bmx bikes at the park.  there were some older boys working with their skateboards; it seemed like they were being pretty decent with our kiddos around.  i was looking all around at the melting snow and the shadows and the sunlight and chatting with ben and half watching the bikers and skaters.  i vaguely heard one of the older boys drop the f-bomb (you know, the f-word that rhymes with stuck).  i turned to ben and said something about if maddie and isaac are around the park here very much they are going to hear that word and we are going to have to explain it to them. 

so far, we've just taken each swear word as they come, talked about the word and what it means and why we choose not to use it.  at some point, they watched some cowboy movies and heard what the hell.  they watched secondhand lions and heard robert duvall say damn a fair bit.  so, i explained that hell is an awful place, so why would we want to say that word just for everyday.  and damn means you want to send someone or something to hell, so that's an ugly word, too.    

we had the whole donkey-ass-backside-fool explanation sometime around christmas one year.  somebody asked what is an ass?  after the reading of the christmas story.  don't they mean donkey?  didn't mary ride a donkey?

when isaac was pretty little, ben overheard one of his buddies tell him, "some people i know call poop shit.  what do you call poop, isaac?"  isaac told him, "i just call it poop."  his buddy said, "yeah.  me too."  ben followed up on that one with isaac, and then explained it to maddie, as well.  we had pigs then.  the back corner of their pen was full of this stuff.  but people who want to sound nice call it something else, like pig-poop.

in ben's and my conversation at the park, i told him that i was just so grateful that maddie and isaac had made it this long without realizing that they may have heard the f-word, without it registering in their little minds.  they are 9 and 10.  to have made it this long without that word presenting itself is a blessing!

i also told ben that there is a song on one cd that we have that i always skip.  the kids sometimes have asked why i always skip that song.  i told them that there is a word in that song that is very ugly.  it is a harsh and violent swear word (thank you, mumford and sons for using the f-word.), and we left it at that.  

i'm sure you all know where this is going . . . 

later, back at home, we were all sitting around the table, eating supper and, towards the end of the meal, isaac says, "is fuck a swear word?"  just like that.  no hesitation.  and ben and i look at each other and just about laugh, because this is about four hours after the conversation in the park.  and because this is the boy who calls stupid the s-word and dumb the d-word and is all kinds of distraught if he hears anyone use them.  "yep.  it is.  where did you hear that, isaac?"  "one of the big boys crashed his bike and said it today."  

so ben told the kids that this word is one of the most harsh swear words.  that a lot of people who say some of the others won't use this one.  but also, that there are people who use this one for everything and the harsh meanings get lost on them.  ben told the kids that even when he was younger and it didn't bother him to use the other words we've talked about, when he didn't care if he sounded respectful, that this one was pretty much off-limits in his mind.  

of course, maddie wanted to know what it means.  i've been thinking about this, too, ever since skipping the mumford song, because i didn't want to explain the sexual part of the meaning, but i wanted to be able to explain the harshness, so i said something like, "it's such an ugly word.  and it has a pretty big meaning.  it is violent, pushing into or through, slamming, tearing, ramming, ruining, hard, harsh, ripping, digging, turning something into an absolute mess, sometimes mangled and bloody.  people use it for situations, for awful people, for things that happen to them, for things they do to others.  that kid's crash probably hurt, but he wasn't laying in a mangled, bloody heap needing an ambulance; that word wasn't appropriate."

after a bit more talking, isaac said, "i knew i would ask you about it, but i didn't want to ask you at the park where other people might hear me.  i thought i should just ask you at supper, at the table, cause that's where we talk about stuff." 

yep.  that's where we talk about stuff.  and we'll just keep right on talkin' about stuff around our table.