The Fragile Emotional Economy of a Seventh Grader

I just took my son to school to speak with the principal (sp? Oh yes the principal is your pal). No seventh grader this side of Mars or Venus believes that the principal is his pal. Alex was terrified on the right of suddenly having become “visible” to the man who controls the school by striking fear into the hearts of small boys. Did I say small? That is the strange thing about middle school. I’m walking Alex in the door and, being in the south, and attempting to teach my son the behaviors of a gentleman, we held the door open for several young ladies. Three of the young ladies looked and sounded way too mature for 8th graders. I assume they were. Following closely upon their spiked heels were three first graders!!??? I’m not sure. They look as though they were weaned off their binkys just yesterday. Seriously, in two years of age differential there must have been two feet of height differential. It has got to be tough to be a middle schooler.

Back to the “pal” guy. On the left it has to be difficult for Alex because the principal wants him to “rat” on the teachers. Oh yes, we were in the office to complain, whine, I mean, express our slight alarm that the math teacher, by her own words, was not too interested in giving our children homework. The other alarming thing, something I didn’t tell the principal, was that she was going to teach my son, “maff” or “maph” not sure which. Now I realize that there is not necessarily a correlation between good diction, pronunciation and the ability to teach “maff”. But it is not exactly reassuring to a parent who wishes for their child to get the best education possible that public school has to offer. To ask my son to “rat” on his teachers to the “pal,” I believe breaks several cardinal rules of middle school etiquette. I believe that the unwritten rule of middle school rules for kids states quite clearly that it is deeply offensive to be a rat of any kind, but to “rat” on a teacher or student to the “pal,” is the deepest betrayal of all humanity, its like turning down an ice cream cone from your grandmother. Its like hating pepperoni pizza, its like backwashing in someone’s can of Mt Dew, its… its… unthinkable.

So how does my son navigate emotionally through these moral mountains that tower over him in middle school? How does he handle the fact that three boys in his class have been shaving since the first grade, and he still has a high voice? I remember so well those years with fear and gratefulness. Fear, as terrifying memories of Doug Phelps and Benito Ramirez threatened to drag me back into post dramatic stress disorder. I’m sweating just thinking about it. And gratefulness that I never ever have to go back to middle school again, ever.

Perhaps my son will be braver than I ever was and find his way through this strange middle school world which is worse than James Cameron’s Pandora. Go get em (sqeak) Go get em, Alex!!

Its Great to be the King

Our illustrious president is encased,once again, up to his glazed over eyeballs in controversy. He has said he thinks that, in the name of freedom of religion, that Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf should be able to build a one hundred million dollar mosque near ground zero. Actually, I agree. But our president, although a graduate of Columbia University and Harvard Law School still cannot articulate the real reason why he can not stop or start the building of a mosque on the scar of the twin towers.

Here's the reason, he is the president of the United States. Did you catch that? He is not the king of the United States, nor the Premier of the United States, nor the Sovereign of the United States, nor the grand puhbah, nor even yet the Imam of the United States of America. He is just the president. Our wise forefathers, fresh from their frustrating, irritating, war creating clash with King George, did you hear that? King George wrote into our founding documents several items that would deeply limit the powers of said president.

Amendment #1 Congress shall make no law respecting the establishing of a religion or prohibitting the free excercise thereof; Again did you here that word, "congress." Its not even in the powers of the president to do anything about it one way or another. What ever might be done is completely in the hands of an entirely different entity of government.

That means the president of the presumably most powerful nation in the world has NO POWER because he is only the president. That means that the person or persons who own that property may sell it to whomever they wish and if the president of the United States says, "No you may not." They can say, well, (any number of expletives you might choose)yes we can." That is because he is not sovereign over their decision as to what to do with their land.

He's not even able to say "no" to a foreign group, say of rich, powerful Muslim businessmen who wish to invest in a parcel of land near the place that terrorists, in the name of Allah their God, snuffed out hundreds of American lives. And although it looks appears much like a Lion urinating on its kill, he cannot say "no" because he is only the president.

I just wish he would articulate it the way it is meant to be articulated instead of acting like he could do whatever he wants, but he is giving gratiously in to some great ideal. In truth, he cannot because he has no power, no say, no right, because he is simply president of the United States.

Money

Money, I"m tired of it, or I guess I should say the lack of it. Truthfully, I don't mind not having any. I can live pretty simply, my computer, my cell phone, my car, my house. Oh, I guess that's not living very simply.It always feel as though a few dollars more would make the world of difference in my financial picture, however, they never seem to come or if they do, more bills come along with them to neutralize any good a few dollars more might do. Maybe tomorrow I'll find that secret place where I have no worries but until then I'm hoping there is some connection between worrying and making money, although I kind of doubt it.

Apple of my eye

Psalm 17:8a

Keep me as the apple of your eye…

The apple of my eye is that apple which, as I look at it up in the tree, I can tell is the glory of all apples. It is perfect, round and red in the way that says to me it is at the peak of its taste. It is not too green and therefore a touch too sour. It is not over ripe and therefore slightly mealy. It is perfectly crisp and sweet. It is the king apple, the one the tree has poured all of its best sugar and energy into. It is the treasured apple. The one the tree has put up higher than normal so that it cannot be reached easily by the normal passerby. It will take someone with a sharp eye and a deep desire to reach this apple. It is the precious apple. The one the tree has camouflaged carefully so as to avoid the sharp eyes of the birds. Those who just want a casual bite or two and then move on. This apple is to be reserved for a long slow delightful meal of exquisite enjoyment.

David is saying something truly precocious. I am that apple to God. I am that delightful sweetness to the one who is both the tree and enjoyer of the fruit. He is the tree who has put all of his energy and sweetness into me. He is the one who has hidden me away and placed me beyond where the birds can just pick at me out of spite. He is the one who has blinded those who will not truly enjoy me. Who will just pick me and throw me away. He is the tree who has germinated me, grown me, filled me, protected me.

And he has reserved me for himself and picked me at the peak of ripeness because he truly enjoys a perfectly beautiful and ripe apple. He is the one, the only one who can truly, completely, perfectly sit down and enjoy me to the full.

How is that possible that God could do that for me, me the unjust, the unlovely, the unsweet? Here’s how. The true apple of God’s eye was his son Jesus Christ who was all of those things and more to God His Father. God the Father gave him over to the picking of the birds and to the unwashed hands of passersby so that I, in his place might become the apple of God’s eye. And this gift is to all who will take it, to those who will simply receive it by having that same precociousness as David to believe it.