Live and Let Live

I would be remiss if I failed to give a massive and sincere THANK YOU to Barbara. I love this woman. She understands that a person can be both snarky and compassionate, feisty and gentle, straightforward and kind. Many of our beliefs are polar opposites. In fact, she may cringe when she sees that I even referred to her in a post such as this, but that's kind of the point (not to make her cringe, but to share that even though what I believe might make her cringe, she never feels compelled to attack me or make me feel bad). She is my friend, we genuinely care about each other. She has taught me, and strengthened me often. I want to be more like her. It can be done people...living in this world, seeing things differently, finding a common bond, not participating in stereotypes and generalizations, sharing with respect and love...it can be done! Barbara is a "live and let live" kind of woman. And, she makes beautiful jewelry with more care than you can imagine! So really, what's not to love?

Sometimes it makes me sad that while I'm a "live and let live" woman, others refuse to afford me that same, simple courtesy. Politically, spiritually, religiously, socially...I do not give a rat's rear end how you choose to live your life as long as you leave me (and my family) alone. We don't bother a soul, we just go about minding our own business. We help people in need, with no expectation of thanks. We volunteer without being told to do so by our soon to be state-run media. We don't care what religion you are, what race you are, or how many tattoos you have. Why are you so concerned with changing us? I don't care if you eat meat or only things that never had a mother. Why do you care what I eat? I don't care if you hunt, as long as you aren't hunting me. I don't care if you smoke and choose to take years off your life, as long as I don't have to pay for it and you aren't blowing it in my face. I don't care what kind of lightbulbs you use. Why is my lightbulb choice so intriguing to you? I don't care if you use only the greenest of cleaners, so why do you care if I want to Clorox everything in my house? Just don't come visit.

Now there are some in my church and community, some holding similar political views, and they disagree with this philosophy of mine. Some people who are not members of my church, but who are also Christians, have a problem with this philosophy of mine. And of course there are people on every side of every ridiculous debate that will find something about how I live that bugs them. Their philosophy is not as much a "live and let live" line of thinking, but rather a "convince everyone else that we are right". I don't give a rat's rear end about that either. I'm beyond caring. I live my life in a way that inevitably brings about questions regarding my spiritual beliefs. My Christianity can not and will not be removed from the fiber of my being. It's who I am. Same goes for my social, political, and moral views. I don't want to push my beliefs and views on others. I also do not want others pushing their beliefs and views on me.

Having said all of that, I'm tired of feeling as though my beliefs are under attack. Every time I turn around, something I believe is being trashed. It's becoming quite disturbing actually. And all the while, Isaiah 5:20-21 keeps coming to mind.

My experience with creepy guy lit a fuse in the depths of my soul. I'm not a victim. I will never be someone's victim. Do not mess with me, got it? Again, as I said earlier, I don't bother anyone. I don't follow innocent people and intentionally scare them. I don't force anyone to come here and read my rants. I don't push my beliefs on others. But still I feel attacked, as do many others who share values and opinions similar to mine. Just don't be surprised when I respond to your attacks, when I stand with unrelenting determination to protect my family and those I love. I'm happy to forgive and forget. I'll even turn the other cheek. But just so you know, the cheek you'll be staring at isn't one of the two on my face. And I won't be turning any cheek until after I've let you know just what I think.

But remember, this will only happen if you attack me. I will never start a fight or argument of any kind. But don't look at me all shocked and tormented if you bring it on and I respond with more than just walking away. I'm NOT criticizing people who choose to walk away. That's my whole point...you do things your way, I do things mine. And YES I CAN be a woman full of compassion, tolerance, joy, virtue and all things lovely while also refusing to be pushed around! I'm just not the person who's going to sit by and pretend our world isn't falling apart. I'm more of an Ida B. Wells kind of girl.

I'm going to take a stand against my rights and my liberties being stolen. This country was founded on religious freedom, if you don't like it then go live somewhere else. If you want to live here, I fully expect you come here legally, and it wouldn't hurt if you made at least an attempt at speaking English. Why do I feel this way? NO, it's NOT because I hate immigrants. That's just ridiculous nonsense. (One day I'll tell you all about where my people came from and you'll be shocked.) It's about having a shred of decency, and a little respect for those who came before you, those who did the hard work and put forth the effort to do things the legal way! It's also about your children, and helping them have the best life possible. If you do things the legal way, and help them learn the language, you will be giving them endless opportunities. Now, if you don't live in this country, what do you care? I'm sure it's easy to pass judgement when you don't live here. It's always easy to have an idealistic picture of how things "should be" when your life is completely unaffected by the issues.

Back to religious freedoms. They are quickly becoming a thing of the past...well, if you're a Christian. But we know there will be times we are persecuted for our beliefs. So we can't be all that surprised. I stand firmly against abortion as a means of birth control or to "get rid of" an "unwanted"/"unexpected" pregnancy. Some say that means I am opposed to women's rights. (Excuse me while I go vomit.) I believe marriage should be between one man and one woman. Some say that makes me cruel and mean. (Excuse me, I have to vomit again.) Frankly, I could not care less who you love, if you were born loving people of your same gender, or are choosing a certain lifestyle. But, I don't think that just because you have a particular lifestyle the definition of marriage should be forcibly reinvented. I also don't believe you should be ridiculed, beaten, tormented, etc. because of your lifestyle. And I ask that you refrain from ridiculing, beating, tormenting and defacing the property of people who believe as I believe, and live the lifestyle I live.

This road of tolerance, love, compassion and peace goes both ways. I'm tired of it being a one-way street. The only people expected to extend hands of mercy, peace, tolerance and grace are Christian, heterosexual, socially conservative, American whites.

Why do politicians and the media fuel the fire over race? I'm raising two boys...white boys to be exact. Let me tell you...I am sick and damn tired of my boys being made to feel as though they have to apologize for who they are. I'm not keeping my mouth shut on this one anymore! I have two very polite, open-minded, compassionate boys (this is what I hear from teachers, other parents, pretty much anyone who meets them). I will fight to the death making certain they are not demonized by the leftist liberal media, unions, and "social groups" in this country. I find it disgusting that they are pushed back in an effort to let others get ahead. You can push them down. You can withhold things from them. But you will never keep them down. They are good, smart, kind-hearted boys. You can't keep kids like that down! It's on socially liberal America. It. Is. On.

CNN and Rick Sanchez, you've heard from me more than once. You'll keep hearing from me again and again. Not that you'll listen, but at least I can say I tried. Your "Being Black in America" series as well as your "Being Latino in America" series made for a wonderful discussion in my home. Eleven Year Old wondered why you didn't have a series called "Being a White Boy in America"....he thought you could interview him on how it felt when he blew the lid off his standardized tests in Maryland, but wasn't allowed to be acknowledged because he was white. Only minorities could be recognized. Doing his best was diminished because of his race. Yes, he understands we don't do our best for praise, etc. We do our best because that's a good way to live. But he also sees right through your ruse. You don't care about being black, white, or latino in America. You care about making sure the race fire is fueled. I guess I just can't understand why it always has to be about one group being perpetrators and another group being victims. Why can't we all help each other? Why this idea that for one person to succeed, another must be held back and kept from success? Why can't we just be people? People who aren't defined by race and religion? That's what I hope for, but until it happens I can't just sit by and allow my sons to be mistreated.

But, I can't and shouldn't blame CNN. Why didn't I pursue the issue last year? When my son was ignored because he's a white boy, I should have opened my mouth, loud and clear. But, I wanted to be a good Christian woman. I have a kind heart, and I'm not stupid. I know there are issues of great concern facing all people in this country. I didn't want anyone to think I don't care about the struggles of minorities, because I do care. I didn't want to cause a problem. What?!? The school district caused the problem. As an advocate for my child, I should have opened my mouth! Ida B. Wells would've been disappointed in me. She was an advocate for truth. She fought so that all people, regardless of color and gender could stand together. I don't believe she would be at all happy about what happened to my son. Ida Wells believed in equality for all, equality that shouldn't come at the expense of others. She once said, "One had better die fighting against injustice than die like a dog or a rat in a trap." Make no mistake, I will be neither dog nor trapped rat.

Oh my goodness, I feel much better now. I have to credit Em over at Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit for getting me fired up (in a good way). She is so smart, and her Friday's Food For Thought always gets me off my butt and ready to take on the world! In a Live and Let Live kind of way, of course!

Another Road Less Traveled

Thursday afternoon I had a frightening experience. On my way home from a doctor visit, I was followed by a creepy stranger. At first he was in front of me, trying to get me to pull up to his car--jackass jerk didn't know I've read entirely too many Reader's Digest articles to fall for that trick! Then he sped up, slowed down, sped up, turned around, etc. until he ended up behind me. It's a long, icky story and to be honest, I don't want to revisit details. Thankfully, even though I was nervous, I kept my wits about me. I pulled into a fire station. The firemen were absolutely wonderful. In fact, creepy guy drove past the fire station twice while I was there, and I seriously thought one of the firemen was going to blow his top...he was so angry the idiot had scared me. And, I was scared. But, I was also angry. I loathe bullies and people who purposely intimidate others. The firemen suggested I stay at the station for a while just so we could make sure creepy guy didn't return.

When I left the station, I held it together until pulling safely into my garage. With all of my heart, I just wanted to call the Captain...everybody has a "go-to" person, and I just wanted to hear the voice of my go-to guy. The fact that I don't have that luxury right now was suddenly unbearable. I started crying, and by the time I made it into my living room I was sobbing. I was a crumpled heap on the floor, a crumpled, messy, wailing heap of a woman. No exaggeration, there was wailing. I was broken down. In fact, I haven't cried like that since my daughter died. And all those years ago, it never crossed my mind that I would cry like that ever again. But oh, I did on Friday afternoon.

If the wailing stopped for a moment or two, it was just so I could scream at the top of my lungs. "I can not do this. Do You hear me? I can not do this again. You better listen to me this time," I could hear myself bellowing. I was even pounding my fist on the floor. After 10 minutes or so, I just stopped. What exactly is the "this" that I can't do again, I wondered. No one's dying, I'm not preparing a funeral. What is the "this" that has shaken me to my core? I really didn't believe it was creepy guy following me that had pushed me to this point. But, I didn't have time for self-analysis right then. My 6th grader would be walking through the door at any moment, and this was not the picture he needed to see.

That night as I knelt beside my bed, I felt a wrestling match coming on, and I wanted no part of it. So, I simply stated: "Dear Heavenly Father, thank You for keeping me safe today, thanks for keeping my family safe. You and I both know I'm tired. I can't do this. Can't do any of it. Thank you for the Atonement of my Savior, Jesus Christ. Thank you for all of my blessings. I can't do this, ok. I'm going to bed now. Amen." I slept a solid eight hours. I was shocked when I woke and realized it was the best sleep I've had in a long time.

My head was clear. My heart still felt a little shredded, but it was all coming together for me. No wrestling required. "This" was actually a number of things. None of which I cared for, and all of which began to flood my mind...vulnerability, weakness, lack of power, and the biggie: lack of control. When my daughter died, I had never felt so powerless. Never before, and never since--until now--have I had such a complete lack of control in my own life. There is nothing I can do to make "this" stop. My go-to guy will be gone for a year. I have no control, no say, no power in that. In my mind, vulnerability is neither impressive nor attractive, and vulnerable is just exactly how I was feeling.

I was still in bed as I pondered these things. The following thoughts flowed clearly through my mind: "You are exactly right. You can't do "this" again. What are you trying to prove? You've wrestled with God before, what did you learn? Why would you choose to wrestle that very same match again, when you don't have to?"

I was reminded of Jacob, when he was asked: "What is thy name?" He was forced to remember his name, who he was, and how he got to that place. It was as though God was whispering to me, "Child, why are you forgetting that you already know your name? I've taught you so much about the woman you are. Can't you remember? I've already blessed you with the tools for "this"? You've already wrestled this match."

At that moment I had a choice to make. 13 years ago, I responded as Jacob did. "Tell me, I pray thee, thy name." (Genesis 32:29) Do I take that road again, or instead do I rely upon the answers and tools I've already been given? And so, Friday morning, I knelt beside my bed, just as I had the previous night. But, my prayer was not the same. "Dear Heavenly Father, You and I both know that I can't do "this". You don't want me to, and neither do I. We both remember I did "this" alone--by choice--many years ago. I'm not taking that road again. I know my name. I don't have to ask for Your name again, I already know it too. I'd like to take a different road, one I haven't traveled much."

A road that is about acceptance as opposed to wrestling with things I can't change. I don't so much like it when people flippantly throw around the phrase "Let Go and Let God". Having wrestled once, and coming so close to wrestling again, I understand there is nothing flippant about letting go. But if you can actually do it, the payoff is amazing.

I feel a renewed sense of peace. I am not powerless or weak. I may not have control of all things, such is life. But, in the past God allowed me to earn many tools, and I'm in full control of how I use those tools. I have the power to use those God-given blessings and tools, ones I wrestled and fought to receive, as I travel a new road.

It may seem unfitting to end with a quote from reality tv, but I've sunk to much lower levels before. The Biggest Loser is my newest reality series addiction. In the past, I haven't watched because I wasn't fond of Jillian Michaels. I thought she was too hard on the contestants. I have a friend who suggested I watch it anyway. Oh my goodness, I love it! The contestants are dedicated, open, and honest...with the exception of one whack-job, but there's one in every bunch, right? A few have even sacrificed their spot on the show so another can stay. These people are truly inspiring to me. And, Jillian cares about them. No doubt--she's cocky, and super tough on them, but she genuinely wants them to succeed. Last week, she was training a contestant who was scared and feeling defeated. Jillian's response to the woman made me pause the show. I had to rewind it until I could get the whole quote jotted down correctly.

Jillian: "You just don't want to let go of the story. That's why you're afraid. And until you're ready to step into a new life, and write a new story, you're just wasting your life. And your life's not going to change."

I'm writing a new story when it comes to "this". I don't have to prove anything to anyone, including myself. I'm becoming ok with not having all the control. I'm understanding that letting go and catching some of what life throws in your face (without fighting it off) doesn't mean you are weak and powerless. Sometimes we've already learned the lesson. Sometimes, instead of wrestling another match, it's preferable to use the tools we have...step into a new life, and walk a road we haven't traveled much. I won't waste another minute of my life on "this".

Blessings and a "Hilarious" Girl

Please tell me I'm not alone on this one. I miss my kids while they're at school. Can't wait for them to get home so I can gush their cheeks. But, oh! my! gosh! 4-6p.m. kicks my tail. No matter how much I plan, prepare, gear up for it, know it's about to happen---those two hours still manage to waylay me. I stand in awe of 4-6p.m. Such power, such fierce determination to transform me into a beast.

Yesterday at 5:00, I was feeling frazzled and nowhere near on schedule with dinner. That's just about the time my neighbor showed up with dinner. She didn't ask if we needed anything, didn't ask if we liked what she was making, if it was ok if she dropped by with food. Nope. She just showed up, handed me the meal, and left. Left me standing on the porch with a hot casserole and mouth agape. That was the best dinner I've had in a long time.

This morning as I was cleaning toilets, the doorbell rang. This time it was a lady from church. I've spoken with her exactly three times. "Sorry to just drop in," she said, "but you've been on my mind." She handed me a bouquet of beautiful, bright yellow Spider Mums (a favorite of mine, but she didn't know that).

The blessings of strength and comfort I'm receiving can not be denied. I know people are praying for my family, and we can feel it. Thank you for your prayers, encouragement, and good vibes. Every bit is appreciated!
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Last night Princie was reciting lines from the new Barbie and the 3 Musketeers movie. Things like "don't mess with the dress" and such. She was successful in her attempts at making us laugh. It wasn't over the top funny. Well to us it was, but you know how it is. Some things are only that funny to the people you share your home with. We were asking Princie to repeat this little "booty dance" (sorry Snarky Mama, but that's what it is) she was doing. When she tired of our requests, she flopped onto the floor with a big smile.

Princie: "Mommy, I'm pretty hilarious, huh?"

Me: "You sure are Princie."

Princie: "I mean really MamaMia, did you ever even dream you could have such a hilarious girl."

Me: "Actually, yes, you are exactly the girl I dreamed of."

Princie: "Oh that's good. I'm happy I made your hilarious dream come true."
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I have a confession to make. My profile picture is old. Like, oh, 20 pounds ago old. But, I leave it up to remind me of my goal...lose the 20 and be able to see my eyes when I'm smiling. As of now, my cheeks tend to cover my eyeballs when I smile.

I needed a new dress for Eight Year Old's baptism. I took Princie shopping with me. I tried on dress after dress with her narrating in the background. "That's a thumb's up," or "That's a thumb down," she'd say.

Me: "I don't know, I think this one makes me look a little chubby. See how my back bulges in the back?"

Princie: "What do you mean? Like where it's all squishy sticking out?"

Me: "*heavy sigh*---yes honey, that's what I mean."

Princie: "No, you aren't chubby. I think you are just only beautiful. You aren't fat either. Just beautiful."

Me: "Oh my goodness little peanut, thank you."

Hours later, at home, she comes into the living room crying hysterically.

Princie: "Mommy, this is so bad. So, so, so, so, so bad."

Me: "What's wrong baby?"

Princie: "I told a lie, and I know telling a lie is so, so, so, so bad. I'm sorry I told a lie."

Me: "Ok, well let's talk about it, and you can make it better. No worries."

Princie: "I lied when I told you that you aren't fat. You are actually (insert image of Princie squinting her eyes while pinching her thumb and index finger together) a little bit fat. I'm sorry I lied to you."

(Me to Myself---I'm just sorry Princie's decided to go all Honest Abe on me.)

Me: "Ok then, you said sorry, I forgive you for telling a lie. Now, how 'bout you bring Mommy two three or ten Reese's PB cups to make it all better."

*Sigh*

disclaimer #1: I feel some rambling brewing. I've got a lot rushing through my brain and little time to make sense of it all...equaling a messy post that's entirely too lengthy. Hope you're comfy.
disclaimer #2: This post is not open for debate. You believe what you believe, and have every right to do so...as do I. I've decided I don't blog to educate, change opinions, open minds, etc. If you don't like what I write, go get your own blog. All rude, ugly, nasty, etc. comments will be trashed, flushed, promptly sent into oblivion. Normally I don't moderate comments, but even I have my limits. In addition, I will find sheer pleasure in doing away with anonymous comments. If you don't have the guts to stand behind your nastiness, you don't deserve the privilege of being heard.
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I found this little gem on one of my favorite blogs called Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit...

No surprise it spoke directly to my soul. (And not just because the three colors used are my favorites.) No, it spoke to me because that's exactly how I feel. A person can speak their mind passionately while also treasuring peace, kindness, and compassion. Thanks Em, you know I think you're a rock star!

Along this line of thought, my favorite Dr.Seuss quote: "Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind."

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I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.(From The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost)

I've always found this poem intriguing. While the poem is often used to teach and preach the wonders of nonconformity, I see something else. Frost writes he will tell the tale at some point in the future. At this point, it's impossible to know if the sigh will be a peaceful kind associated with "the good ol days", the sigh of exhaustion, or even possibly the sigh of regret.

And what about "the difference"?
It's still too soon to know if the difference will be for better or worse.

I can't say that the Captain and I have always taken the road less traveled, but we've frequented that route more than once or twice. At this point, 16 years and 3 months into our lifetime together, I am telling this with a "sigh". It is a sigh of peace mingled with exhaustion, but zero regret. And, it has most certainly "made all the difference".

It wasn't love at first sight, more like love at second week. But, the day I met him, I believed we would become the very best of friends. I was right. We were engaged within 4 weeks....he only waited that long to propose so people wouldn't doubt our sanity. Funny, huh? Pretty safe to say we were taking our own road from the very beginning.

Friday I waved goodbye to my hero. Do you think he is leaving his family for the deserts of Iraq because he is a warmonger, because he likes to fight, or because he believes the ways of his country are superior to the ways of others? Wrong, wrong, wrong. If that's what you think, you couldn't be more wrong.

He is leaving because it's his duty. He is leaving because the United States Army paid for the Captain to attend medical school. Our family has a debt to pay. Before med school, he went to Chiropractic school. We owned a practice for a while and quickly learned some tough life lessons. In a nutshell, we lost everything....except each other, our integrity, and our families. After more prayer and fasting than I ever imagined, it was clear that med school was next on our road. This man heals, it's what he does. (If you could hear the tone of respect and appreciation in the voices of his patients and coworkers, you'd understand.) There was really only one way to make it happen---an Army scholarship. So, in 2000, that was the road we took.

It became our choice because we didn't have many other options from which to choose. He had the grades, the MCAT scores, and knocked the interview outta the park. But truth be told, because of where we lived, our options were limited. Had he been a female and/or an ethnicity other than Caucasian, our choices would have been numerous. Well, that's what he was told by the head of admissions. Along with, if you wait just one year, we can accept you. Meaning: we've already accepted all the white males we can this year, you're a little late this year because we have to meet some numbers, which I can't say anything else about or I'll be in trouble. (Some of you may not want to hear that, but truth is truth...it matters little whether you like the way it sounds or not.)

There was a time when that truth didn't sit well with me. That truth and I were not friends. Now I know that I've been blessed with too much good, too much beauty and kindness in my life to be bitter. Our road has made me laugh, cry, smile, cuss like a sailor, wail, and the list goes on. But Friday, as I waved goodbye to my hero I was proud. Not all pride is arrogant or haughty. I felt proud just to know this man. And as I looked into those beautiful blue eyes, I couldn't have been more thankful for the road we have traveled together.

The Captain knows I've felt for a very long time that our men and women should just come home already. He knows I felt this way loooooong before it affected our family so directly. The people our soldiers are putting their lives on the line for...those people have been fighting since time began, and they will be fighting when time ends. Their oceans of differences are just too vast. Maybe in the beginning they wanted change, but I don't think they want that now. Because now they see more clearly that change, peace and freedom, those things are costly. It would be lovely wouldn't it? If freedom and peace could just be handed to us, wrapped up all neat and tidy in a pretty little box. Peace can't always be delivered that way. We can pray, hope, and hold hands singing "We Are the World" until the end of this earth...but people continue to make their own choices. And reality is that peace sometimes requires work and sacrifice. Sadly, work and sacrifice are sometimes a far cry from neat and tidy. (If you've ever grieved you know what I mean.) The irony of peace is that you often have to walk through hell to get there. I don't really see the Iraqi and Afghan governments ready to take that walk. I saw them more willing when very little was asked of them. If they aren't willing to fix their corrupt governments, and fight the Taliban so they can live more peacefully...just let them be. Reality is often a tough pill to swallow. We are not the saviors of this world! Let them do their thing, and we can get back to the business of our own country. Because goodness knows we have plenty of our own corruption, education issues, oppression, and domestic violence to face right here at home! I'm pretty much over the whole "we want you here, but we don't, but we do" mentality. I'd like us to try and clean up our own back yard before addressing everyone else's.

Of course I had to mention all of the above to the Captain one more time before he left. His response? "What we think doesn't really matter does it? I took an oath. I made a promise to fulfill responsibilities. It's my turn to take care of those soldiers who are also fulfilling their responsibilities. The soldiers I will be caring for are trying desperately to help others have a better life. Bad people and unfortunately some very innocent people are hurt in the process. But those soldiers put themselves in danger, trying to help others have peace in their communities. And I'm going to care for our soldiers."

The Captain was right...what we think about how this country ended up over there, what we think about decisions that have been made since 2001, the feelings we have toward the Congress that voted to send us there, feelings we have toward a Congress that now fails to support those who sacrifice life and limb to fulfill duties, feelings I have toward an administration that clearly does not respect those who serve this country...none of it matters, none of what we think or feel matters to the people calling the shots. But, we won't stop thinking and feeling.

And I will stand firm and proud of my hero. He is humble and kind. He is loyal and paying a debt to the Army that funded his med school. He cares about the soldiers who risk their health and even life. I wonder if the attack on our country had happened in 2000, instead of 2001, would we have taken the same road? I'm embarrassed to admit I think I would've been too scared.

*sigh* All I know for certain is that two roads diverged. The one we choose has made all the difference. And I'm ok with that. In fact, I'm more than ok.

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Do you know who Denis Mukwege is? He was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize. He deserved the award. So, I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to Dr. Denis Mukwege. I'm sincerely embarrassed that the President of the United States won this award over you, and I wish he would give it to you. Since we all know that won't happen, I'm giving Dr. Mukwege the Snarky Belle Peace Prize. (Which if you ask me is now worth just as much as the Nobel Peace Prize...minus the cash of course...since the once prestigious award has now been made a complete joke of because for the first time in history it's been given based on aspirations rather than actions.)

Dr. Mukwege heals torn bodies, broken hearts, and shredded souls. He does those things literally, not with eloquent words spoken from a podium while reading a fancy teleprompter. He is actually in the trenches fighting a war against women in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Did you know (as of fall 2008, according to CBS news) more people have died in that war than Iraq, Afghanistan and Darfur combined? Dr. Mukwege is a true advocate for Peace. He doesn't even waste time talking, he just acts. PLEASE learn more about the doctor. (I couldn't get the video to post here.) Truly, you will be doing yourself a great injustice if you don't take time to honor this hero. A champion for bruised and battered women. Thank you Dr. Mukwege, and again I'm sorry you haven't been properly honored. But then, I'm guessing that's not why you do it anyway.

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Why Barack Obama won the Nobel Peace Prize:

1.) He is not George Bush...and I'm not sayin' that's a bad thing.

2.) It was strictly political. How does a Peace Prize winner send more troops into Afghanistan? Joke's on you Mr. President. Your award comes with strings attached, and they look very much like the kind that dangle from a puppet.

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Little Jill had me laughing with this one...and I laugh so as not to cry, because I'm convinced this world is spinning out of control. I've posted her reaction in its entirety because maybe you wouldn't click on one more link, and then you'd be missing out:

On my trip to Target this morning for diaper rash cream. I heard the news on NPR.

And the Nobel Peace Prize goes to . . .

Barack Obama

To which I responded out loud to no one:
"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FREAKIN' KIDDING ME"
He's done nothing. NOTHING.

They played the audio at the press conference. Audible gasps are heard after the announcement. Apparently I'm not the only one who thought he was undeserving.

Even the expert they were interviewing said "He has done nothing to merit this award"
Apparently, because you're THE OBAMA you get all sorts of accolades you don't deserve.

The expert noted that Europeans LOVE the Obama, but Middle America, not so much.

We all know why. Because in Middle America, you earn your rewards. You don't get International awards because of your "ideas". You have to prove yourself, and that he has not done. Even the expert said it. In fact she said the deadline for the nominations was 12 days after he was elected. 12 DAYS.

She went on to say that it is all about his Vision of Hope and Change, and that he can lead the international community to come together for peace. Let me reiterate. He had done nothing. But he "can" in theory.

Barf.

So scoot over Martin Luther King, and Mother Teresa. What did you guys ever do for Peace?

You could have saved yourselves a lot of work and time by just talking about change.

That is what we want to teach American kids. You don't have to do anything, and you can get a highly prestigious award (or what used to be).

Next up: Obama get's MTV's artist of the year award for singing along in the presidential limo. (question is will Kanye cry foul and take away his moment? hmmmmm)

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One little funny to wrap up this rambling post. Yesterday Eight Year Old walked into my room. He had a grin that was ear-to-ear, accompanied by the twinkle in his eye that melts hearts.

Eight Year Old: Hey mommy, I came up with a great idea. A reeeeealy great idea, you won't believe it.

Me: Cool, what is it?

Eight Year Old: I figured out how we can get rich.

Me: That sounds fantastic, tell me. How?

Eight Year Old: So we just get our money and make copies of it. Just start making our own money on the color printer. It's a good printer. That way, we can do whatever we want. We never run out, and if other people need some we can give them some too.

Me: Well, that would be perfect except for one small detail....it's illegal.

Eight Year Old: No way.

Me: Ummm, yep. People go to jail for that sort of thing.

Eight Year Old: Well isn't that what the government does? Just make more so they can spend more.

*sigh*
Oh yeahhhh, that's my boy!

Gasp! Oh My! What The?!?

Tsk, tsk, tsk...listen up IOC, you really need to go back and read the memo.
The memo explained, in great detail, all about The Chicago 3. Seriously, the guy is a god. And those two women? Well they are total goddesses. The 3 of them are worshipped. Why are you not worshipping at their feet like the other intelligent, morally superior people of this world? How could you not understand The Chicago 3 believed just showing up, just gracing you with their collective presence would seal the deal!

You didn't get the memo? Well, I don't know how you could have missed it.

I'm worried about you IOC.
You have not bent to kiss the arses of Their Holiness, The Chicago 3.
Do you know what happens when you do not bend to kiss those arses? It gets ugly, there are consequences. You may be called racist, opposed to reform, bitter, greedy old white men, ignorant, irrelevant...shall I continue? Nahhh, I'll stop there, surely you get my point. Oh wait, one more consequence I should warn you of...if any twisted wingnut does something completely stupid or unconscionable, it will be your fault. Why? I don't know exactly. I'm just telling you what the big news gods said.

I don't know if the egos of The Chicago 3 will be able to stand this. IOC, apparently you don't understand the gravity of this situation. This could be devastating to their delusions of grandeur. They feed upon the praises of their followers. Have you not noticed they walk with their noses in a completely different atmosphere? I mean, they got swagger. And all good followers know you don't mess with their swagger.