Monday, March 15, 2010

Coveteous Confessions

Zane and I were discussing with some friends the reasons why Europe's birthrate is down. The United States' is down too for whites. My grandchildren's world will be very different-looking than mine, but it doesn't matter too much to me if white people die out, because that's a tangent from my original point.

Why are people 1) waiting so long to reproduce if 2) they reproduce at all, and if they do reproduce, 3) why do they only have one or two kids?

Our hypotheses all ended up in one category: selfishness.

Our young generation doesn't want to give up their lives to have children. We're focused on careers, pleasure and avoiding our parents' mistakes. We want to do something noteworthy with our lives, and children aren't exactly noteworthy enough. Once they come along, it's all about them.

Why do we have such a need to be noteworthy?

I think it's our over-interconnectivity. I made that word up, but it works for what I mean. We're too connected with too many people. We can follow celebrities' tweets, keep up with our oldest and newest friends on Facebook, and basically keep our eyes focused on other people's lives more than our own lives. I watch the Olympics and wish I was an athlete. I watch the Oscars and wish I was an actress. I look at people's FB pictures and wish I could travel where they travel. I usually realize I need something by seeing someone else with it.

Dude, either it's just me, or we live in a very coveteous society!

Would I still want all these things if I didn't know other people had them?
Would I be more content with my life if I only connected with people organically?
Would I be less likely to put off reproduction if I wasn't aware of the myriad of possible things I could do with my life that I couldn't do if I had a kid[s]?

It's just a thought.

P.S. I still want to do everything and have kids. Can I have my cake and eat it while I'm writing, acting, traveling, child-rearing, and being the perfect wife? That's rhetorical.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Sweet Forgiveness

Sorry it's been a while. I wish I had a witty entry for you today, but instead I have a touching little story that was part of my last writing assignment. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did:

The story is told by Bob Marquis, a prison ministry staff member, in Currents, a newsletter of Vision New England.

Not in my wildest fantasies could I have orchestrated what God did at Congress '96. I was manning one of the EANE booths on Saturday when I noticed an elderly lady eyeing me. For several minutes she stood there, as if trying desperately to figure out who I was. Finally she approached me and looked intently at my badge.

Looking up at me she said sternly, "I have a bone to pick with you!"

"Do I know you?" I asked, somewhat taken back.

"We've met before," she said, "back in 1967. But at that time you were holding a gun to my head, and you were so intent on getting out of my establishment that we were never properly introduced."

I then recognized her as the Jewish woman who owned a liquor store in Woonsocket, Rhode Island, which I had held up in 1967. At this point I braced myself for anything, but she broke out in a broad smile, gave me a hug and said, "Isn't it great how the Lord as changed both of our occupations?"

I asked her, "Does this mean I have been forgiven?"

"You were forgiven from the day I came to know Jesus Christ as my Savior in 1971, but I have not had the opportunity to tell you about it until today," she responded.

"But how did you recognize me after 29 years?" I asked.

"I kept the picture of you that appeared on the front page of the Woonsocket Call on the day you were arrested," she said. "I put it on a wall in my house and I would curse you and mentally throw darts at it almost daily until the day I was saved. From that day on I began praying daily for your salvation."