UPDATE – Sunday morning … still in Richmond.  The girls won yesterday.  They played so hard and well.  LightGirl had a shutout … she didn’t let one shot past her.   This morning we play the championship game at 9:10.  This time we’re playing a team we’ve beaten three times this season.  And we’re the only team to have beaten them.  So it will be interesting to see how this game goes.

We’re hitting the road around noon today.   It’s kind of a big day here at the LightHouse and in several other homes of friends.

LightGirl’s hockey team is headed for the playoffs in her league.  This is LightGirl’s third season as a hockey player and her first in net.  It’s also her first season that has ended with a spot in playoffs for her team.

So we’re hoping and praying for a good game.  A game in which all of our girls play their best.  Would we like to win?  You betcha.  But after knowing most of these girls for three years now, I think it’s not really important.  What’s important is that they win the game that’s in their minds.  The one that tells them they aren’t quite good enough when the going gets rough.  So my hope and prayer on this day is that they will play their best game and leave the rink with that sure knowledge of having given it their all.  And it was enough.  The numbers on the score board won’t matter then.  The gleam in their eyes will tell the tale.  The bounce in their step will say, “I gave my best game for myself and my team.  And I’m proud of that.”

If you happen to think of LightGirl and her teammates today between 3:30 and 6 Eastern time, it wouldn’t hurt to say a prayer or think good thoughts about them and their best game and their self-confidence.  That they would remember who they are and what they know; warrior princesses of the ice battling over a bit of hard rubber.    We’ll have fun, do well and leave happy.

Wow … I took a little blog vacation there.  I didn’t mean to.  In fact, my writing has really suffered for the last few months.  I think I’ve finally found out why.

I was beginning to think I was going to have to say a fond farewell and just turn my back on this place I’ve called home for the past few years.  The thought was breaking my heart.  So I just wasn’t doing anything at all.  But I didn’t have anything to write either.  And well … let me tell you the story.

In some ways it starts with my dad.  But if I tell you that part now, I’ll be giving away the ending.  I’ll just say that there is an autoimmune disorder that runs in my family and leave you hanging with that for the moment.

In other ways it also starts about sixteen or seventeen years ago as well when one of my doctors noticed that something was enlarged.  It was mysterious, there was no genesis for this.  And, apparently nothing to worry about; no tumors or growths.  It was just enlarged.  So we waited and watched.  Then a few years ago it shrank back.

And then this also starts with my fall off the cliff three years ago.  As it turns out depression and panic attacks are markers of this malady I am currently dealing with.  So what is it?

Well … here’s the story.  Around the time of the Inaugural Ball (for which I still owe you photos, although there are not many), I got a low grade infection/irritation in my nether regions.  It was not a big deal and something I’ve dealt with many, many times in my adult life.  I did not go to the doctor for several weeks as I was trying to heal on my own.  It didn’t work.  Went to the doctor.  He prescribed a round of antibiotics.  But it wasn’t long enough.  So they called in another round of antibiotics.

Through all of this I was just exhausted.  I can’t even begin to describe how very tired I was all.  the.  time.  I would fall asleep in my chair around 8 every evening and do nothing all day.    I was so cold all the time.  And gaining weight just looking at food.

I felt as though I was not shaking the low grade infection even on the second round of antibiotics.  So I went back to the doctor.  To my actual doctor this time, not just anyone in the practice.  At some point in the past month, I’d had blood work done.  Lo and behold … my thyroid is beginning to quit.  This explains almost everything.

It explains why I can’t hold a train of thought long enough to write.  Or even read.

Why my hair has been falling out in handfuls for three years.

Why, although my panic has been controlled, we can’t get it to go away completely.

Same for the depression.

Why (as my brother with the same issue said) I can’t walk by sandwich without gaining three pounds.

Why I can’t stay awake past 8 in the evening.

And several other things that I can’t remember right now.  I’ve joined my family’s dysfunctional thyroid club (with my father and my brother).   So my doctor put me on synthetic thyroid hormone.  Things are beginning to clear up for me.

I’m doing some research and will continue to do so on what the best form of treatment for this is.  I know that tweaking the hormone replacement can takes months or even years.  But it’s do-able.  For the first time in a long time I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I might even find me there.  That is good.

Happy Father’s Day.

It’s one that will surely survive in our collective memory as a family.

It began early; as in 5:30 a.m. One last early rink time for the season. We all went. LightBoy’s game was on one sheet at 7:20; LightGirl’s on the other at 7:30. I ran through the golden arches for a delicious, nutritious breakfast. Yum. LightBoy lost. LightGirl tied. But none of that is memorable.

LightGirl has had a crush on a teammate for a while now. About a week ago she got some intel which suggested that he was more LightBoy’s age. This was completely embarassing. Humiliating. Horrifying. In her words, she felt like a pedophile. Ewweth. This morning before the game I discovered she had bad intel. Her crush was her age. I passed this information along after the game.

So what do you think she did? Well, what would you do? Given that you definitely wouldn’t be seeing the guy again til September and maybe not very much even then.

Has she ever been on a date? No.

Has she ever had a boyfriend? No.

Has she ever been in any kind of relationship of any sort other than friends with a boy? No.

Has she ever spoken more than say fifteen words in a row to this kid? Uhhh … no.

So, of course, it goes without saying … ask him out. Ask him, where? Just … you know … out. On a date. Sometimes the mom is stoo-pid.

It’s helpful too, to have a friend by your side who will act as your voice when you and the guy stand there staring at each other. So, her friend did the actual, you know, asking. She said, “So … LightGirl wants to know if you’d go to the movies or something?” He said, “Sure.” and they both stood there and looked at each other … stunned. So GirlFriend spoke up again and said, “Now it would be good if you exchanged phone numbers.” So they did that too.

Then she came flying around the corner to tell me all about it. Grinning from ear to ear.

She spent the next half an hour texting him. Now she is firmly, giddily ensconced on the phone and computer with her peeps giggling and reliving the event. Imagining what will come next. And ad finitum. It is quintessential adolescence.

And just like that LightHusband and I have crossed a rubicon. It came upon us and we were across it before we even realized that it was there. I never even heard the echo of my feet on wood as the footsteps bounced back from water.

We are lucky, I suppose. She’s very confident. The young man in question is kind, upright, and a decent hockey player. We now have decisions of heavy consequence to make. Where should they go? What should they do? Now that the question has been asked and answered, will the “date” actually even take place?

On another hand, our fortunes run much deeper than that. Our definition of what is quintessentially adolescent is light and air. It involves words like, “giddy” and “peeps.” She will (Lord willin’ an’ the creek don’t rise) complete her secondary education and go on to get a college level education of some sort. There are many, many parents in the 2/3’s world who never even begin to think these words, never mind associate them with children in their family. Yet most families in our world … our 1/3 world, that is the industrialized, civilized, mechanized, and importantly educated, world do have the opportunity to associate words like, “giddy” and “adolescence” and “grin” and “date” and “secondary education” and “college education” with our daughters. Not only do we have that opportunity, we make the assumption that it is the right and natural course of things.

According to Maslow’s hierarchy of needs being secure in our bodily needs allows us to become more secure with our friendships, family and relational intimacy. This in turn builds self-esteem, confidence, etc. It makes sense in a way. One cannot build relational intimacy, when one is deeply hungry for days and months on end. Or living in a place where the water is not reliable. It is simply not feasible. So most Westerner’s (we of the 1/3’s world) would tend to think of education as necessary yet expendable. After all, an education will not build security. It will not fill stomachs or healthily hydrate starving bodies. It will not keep peace among warring neighbors.

Or … will it?

What we are coming to find now is that the key to world peace might just be …

… our daughters. Our collective daughters. The brown ones, and tan ones and yellow ones and pink ones. It’s not that they need to rule the world. Far from it. They just need an education. It is having an education that gives them self-esteem and self-esteem begets relational intimacy which then allows for safety and security and then they can help their families fill their stomachs and hydrate their bodies. It seems that Maslow works for us, but it may just be upside down in other parts of the world.

Give these girls some time … time to be giddy and grow up. Time to learn. Time to be girls, then time to be women. Time to read. Time to calculate. Time to have a date or maybe two. Time to giggle. Time to achieve. Time to gain confidence in their righteous state as children of the Creator. Time to earn respect. Time to bestow respect. They need our time, so that they may have a little more time. And in so doing it is our collective daughters who may just change the world … one village at a time.

I had a little party the other morning. A tiny little pity party. It was a party for three … me, myself and I. We were all invited and we all showed up. Lemme ‘splain.

LightGirl is fourteen. It’s a wonderful age and it’s a terrible age. There are times when I really, really love this age. This morning was not one of them. Many times she seems as if her sole purpose in life is to reject every single thing about me. To reject me myself. That hurts. As much as I know about teen development. As much as I know about how she needs to do this and it’s all part of growing up and taking on who she is going to be. As much as I know about this process of separation, maturation and how necessary it is. It still hurts. I had a flashback that morning of the few moments after she was born when she was in the basinette and we locked eyes. I completely and utterly fell in love with her in that moment. She has been the apple of my eye ever since. She’s not perfect. I know her weaknesses. I know her strengths. But she’s my girl and I love her, warts and all (as a favorite math teacher used to say). This particular part of the process seems unduly difficult.

One thing it does though is continually remind me of her “otherness.” I suppose that is part of the purpose. For so much of our children’s childhood they are in one form or another an extension of us, that we need this reminder that they are, in fact, other than us. They will grow up to be individuals with their own preferences, strengths, weaknesses, idols, and needs.

We know consciously that other people are “other.” But how often do we know this with our heart and soul, not just our minds? How often do we turn our perceptions around and begin to attempt to perceive them not with our lens, but theirs? How often do we begin to try to love others not as we want to be loved, but as they wish? Or offer an apology that is not the apology that we want, but the one that they need? What a struggle it is to step out of our own skin and attempt to perceive life not with our own senses, but with someone else’s. Not with our own memories but another’s.

Yet, is that not the call of Christ in our lives? To love our neighbor as ourselves. May it be to me as She has said.

I know I’ve been away for a couple of days. It may go on for a few more.

All I can say is that I am feeling a certain empathy with the Alm-Grandfather in Heidi. I understand why he retreated to live alone on the mountain, only to visit the village when he needed groceries once a year. People can be very dangerous.

I’ll be back soon. I have a couple of posts percolating. I think they’ll break through the edges shortly.

I listened to that song approximately 3.7 times the other night as I drove LightGirl and a team mate to and from a hockey game. The band is Family Force 5 out of Atlanta, Georgia. They are LightGirl’s current second favorite band. Her first favorite is ParaMour. I not only listened to the song, but I listened to LightGirl sing it. She has been blessed with the same singing ability that I have.

She will be keeping her day job.

She sang along and she danced in the front seat. I worried because the dancing vaguely resembled a seizure so I had to keep interrupting the song to assure myself that she was indeed alright. I suggested to her that the dancing resembled a seizure, she thought it was a joke and referred me to the video.

Here are the lyrics … they’re not so bad (she says through gritted teeth):

“Love Addict”

Hold up, wait a minute, put a little love in it

Doctor, Doctor, I’ve got an emergency
It seems I’m head over heels, a case of L-O-V-E
It’s like I’m glowing inside
Yeah, a light I can’t hide
And if this feeling is bad then I don’t wanna be right
What I’ve got in my soul gives me the highest delight
Oh yeah it’s better than drugs
In fact it’s sent from above, huh huh

Hold up, wait a minute, put a little love in it

Hey, Can’t kick the habit
Yeah, I got to have it
Yeah, I ‘m what they call a
Love addict, Love addict
Hey, can’t live without it
Yeah, G’on shout about it
Hey, I’m a symptomatic
Love addict, Love addict

Need a refill cause I just can’t get enough
I’ve got a fever, oh yeah, and the prescription’s love
So lay the truth on me
Cause that is all that I need

Hold up, wait a minute, put a little love in it

Hey, Can’t kick the habit
Yeah, I got to have it
Yeah, I ‘m what they call a
Love addict, Love addict
Hey, can’t live without it
Yeah, G’on shout about it
Hey, I’m a symptomatic
Love addict, Love addict

I’m blessed, I must confess
My heart is pounding in my chest
Cause this love’s the best
I’m just a love addict

Coming down with something outrageous
Lookout now cause it so contagious
This feeling’s got me reeling
So amped up that I hit the ceiling
Gotta clear my throat
Huh huh, now I gotta have some more

Hold up, wait a minute, put a little love in it

[Chorus x2]

It had me thinking as I organized and stuffed directions for quilt blocks yesterday about love and Love. I remember my first serious boyfriend just after highschool had a favorite line that I thought was seriously romantic at the time: “And in the end, the love we take will be equal to the love we make.” (the Beatles).

Thinking about that again, I think it’s still true. But not in the physical sense. Back then we grinned with anticipation when it was said … Given the milieu into which that line was written, I’m fairly certain we were not missing the mark. Then again, thinking spiritually and emotionally … the love we take will be equal to the love we make.

So I listen, again and again, to Love Addict with Light Girl. I know that she is wishing her teenage girl boyfriend dreams. But I read those lyrics and think different thoughts, about being a Love Addict of a different sort. I wonder about living life with a glow inside that I just can’t hide. What would it be like to love that transparently, foolishly, reeling around dopily? How would the world be different if we all acted like that?

This pissed me off so much I almost cried!

That was the e-mail I received from LightGirl just now.

So … um … what the hell is going on in our country? Just why did that young man get arrested and tasered for asking a question? There was nothing wrong with the question he asked. If he was over time … big deal. The police were way out of line. Way. If they needed to arrest him, they needed to … um … charge him with something. Anything. That’s the way it works in this country. That’s why we have a …

… remember this?

Bill.

of.

Rights.

Supposedly that’s why we’re fighting two wars right now. At least that’s what we’re told. Truth. Justice. And the American Way. But only if we don’t want to use those rights.

THE CLASH LYRICS

“Know Your Rights”

This is a public service announcement
With guitar
Know your rights all three of them

Number 1
You have the right not to be killed
Murder is a CRIME!
Unless it was done by a
Policeman or aristocrat
Know your rights

And Number 2
You have the right to food money
Providing of course you
Don’t mind a little
Investigation, humiliation
And if you cross your fingers
Rehabilitation

Know your rights
These are your rights
Wang

Know these rights

Number 3
You have the right to free
Speech as long as you’re not
Dumb enough to actually try it.

Know your rights
These are your rights
All three of ’em
It has been suggested
In some quarters that this is not enough!
Well…………………………

Get off the streets
Get off the streets
Run
You don’t have a home to go to
Smush

Finally then I will read you your rights

You have the right to remain silent
You are warned that anything you say
Can and will be taken down
And used as evidence against you

Listen to this
Run

Now I must return to painting …