Last Wednesday we had rain! We had quite a bit of rain. We had so much rain in fact, that we had mud!
My kids love mud. I think I've rather outgrown my love affair with mud, but *shrugs* they're young. So we have mud pies, and mud stew with grass for seasoning, and mud cookies decorated with rocks and weeds and seed heads (they're beautiful!). Sticks and mud make houses and roads. Mud and water for dams and rivers and bridges. Hydraulic experiments with mud, cooking experiments with mud, artistic expression in mud... it's all learning disguised as play if you ask me.
Mud is more of a bother than a delight to me. Muddy shoes tracking across my carpets, muddy hands grabbing the door knobs, muddy socks and shorts and shirts and shoes in the laundry basket, and washing mud out of hair in the bathtub aren't really my favorite things. So even though I consider myself to be fairly fun loving and sometimes even childish in pursuit of having fun I tend to avoid mud as much as possible. But Thursday was a different matter!
Now don't get all excited, I didn't get down and wallow in it. Nor did I make mud pies etc. But I did get out in the mud more than usual. And here we have to take a little tangent. My dad works as a roughneck, which to those of you who aren't familiar with the term means he works as a rig hand on an oil drilling rig. I've discovered that there aren't many people who really have much of an idea how a drilling rig operates (I'm sure most people have never even thought of it, but I find it interesting.) So once in a while when Dad is "rigged up" nearby we will go visit him at the rig and take along another homeschooling family as a field trip. The crew my dad works with is very friendly and when you're spending 8-10 hours a day doing mindless physical labor any break in the routine is welcome.
So because "Grandpa Danny" was rigged up about 15 miles from our house we decided to go visit the rig and took along some friends who were interested. Well the location was about 3/4 of a mile from any paved roads! There I was with four kids in my van driving very slowly and cautiously down a MUD road, passing a sign which reads "ROAD CLOSED WHEN MUDDY". About 50 feet past the sign I decided they knew what they were talking about. Slowly drifting to a stop I wondered if I was going to be able to back up the "cave on wheels" far enough to get back to the road without sliding into the ditch.
Life Lesson 1: When the sign says "ROAD CLOSED WHEN MUDDY" and you can see mud you should probably assume there's a good reason for the sign.
We made it back to the hard road after a bit of slipping and sliding and parked the van along the side in some only slightly mushy grass. Here's where it gets interesting. We all piled out of the van and I put on my boots and traipsed the 3/4 mile to the rig in the mud... with a toddler in tow! What we looked like when we got there was glorious! Mud up to our knees in most cases with boots twice as big around (and twice as heavy) as when we started. Plopping and slopping and sloughing our way through the slimy muck all nine of us arrived at the rig. While a little tired I was feeling relieved at having reached our goal at last with all children accounted for, intact and relatively unstained. After our visit one of the rig hands graciously offered to take us back to our vehicles in his four wheel drive which we thoroughly doused with mud (as it was pouring down rain again while we were boarding).
This is Monday. I have been limping around since Saturday morning because my left knee is killing me. Dr Jason Frichtl my very astute chiropractor told me months ago that wearing muck boots was hurting my knees. In that particular case I'd been marching up and down the storm cellar stairs working on a flood problem we were having. But I've been wearing good supportive tennis shoes, so I'll be alright wearing the boots again for a while right?!
Life Lesson 2: When someone who knows what they're talking about tells you that wearing boots with no support is hurting your knees it's probably not a good idea to march through the slippery, sticky mud in said boots while carrying a 25 pound toddler and and extra five pounds of mud on the boots!
Come to think of it both of those Life Lessons have something in common...
When it comes right down to it we really ought to pay attention to what we're told. I think many people apply my attitude toward the sign and the advice of my chiropractor to God and what His word says about our behavior. We seem to think that we can get away with doing things we're told not to do for one reason or another.
Galatians 6:7-9 says:
Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows. The one who sows to please his sinful nature, from that nature will reap destruction; the one who sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life. Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. |
•
Comments (0)
• Post A Comment!
• Permanent Link
|
Aug. 14, 2008 Free? a Confession... of sorts
Eighteen months ago I did something illegal! It was something that has been done by millions of women over thousands of years. No one was hurt and great good was achieved. However had I been caught there would have most likely been jail time involved... not for me, but for my unfortunate midwife!
Ari was the third of my four children who was born at home. Two of those three have been with the assistance of a midwife. Because Illinois is a micromanaging nanny state my midwife had to drive three hours to attend me! In Illinois it is illegal for a midwife to deliver a baby unless she is also a certified nurse. Therefore there are basically no lay midwives in IL. Because I choose to have my babies at home I must hire an out of state midwife who risks legal action to attend me. (This is freedom?) However the theft of my right to have my babies at home safely and legally is not really the issue I want to bring up in this blog. I want to talk about the subtle coercion that has our society by the throat.
At some point when I was pregnant with Ari I called a local radio program to discuss midwifery and home birth with the show's host. After my call a man called in who said the state was right to forbid midwives from practicing in IL because HIS WIFE would have died if she hadn't been in a hospital. (We'll leave aside the fact that he was arguing from the particular to the general - a logical fallacy AND the fact that I wasn't asking for every pregnant woman to be forced to use a midwife.) What I want to talk about is his assumption that is was RIGHT to use force to ensure that only his view would be an option.
The problem isn't whether a midwife or a doctor should be used to assist a woman in labor, the question is am I ALLOWED to disagree over which should be used? Is my disagreement to be with words only? Or may I make my own choice in the matter? If I am not to be allowed to choose something as intimate and personal as where and with whom I deliver my babies in what sense may I be considered free?
Why can't we leave others to their choices? What makes us feel that we are worthy to choose for others when they are perfectly capable of making their own decisions? Has it ever occurred to us that other people might know more about what they need/want than we do?
Please read this article by Stephen Molyneux to find out more about the subtle coercion that he calls The Gun in the Room |
•
Comments (1)
• Post A Comment!
• Permanent Link
|
|
|
|
Page 1
of 1
Last Page | Next Page
|
|
