I can't recall who first recommended Susan Cain's recent book to me, but whoever you are, thank you! Quiet reads like a comprehensive vindication of a sometimes misunderstood style of moving through the world...
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Over recent years, I've routinely had conversations with theologically minded friends within which we agreed that my tradition's lack of a *theology of desire* as it were is a huge liability for us simply on the practical level. My impression is that this theological blind spot really flows over into most Protestantism really. Rigorous thought on how followers of Jesus should relate to desire is few and far between. Certainly on the practical, ordinary, Jesus-follower level the simple question *
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When I was in little league, my coach was thrown out of one of my games for threatening to assault the umpire.
As a pre-teen, I played a round of golf with an accomplished golfer-peer who practiced daily at his father’s behest. After missing the green on an approach shot, in a rage he broke his golf club over his knee.
When I was in high school, during a sports tournament a parent from my academy was thrown out of a game for cursing at officials.
Another time after a similar set of incidents, the school board from the same institution legally barred a parent from attending any f
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My first (you read that correctly) surgery in early December was not only the first in the process of treating my obesity, it was also my first ever. As I indicated in previous posts, fears around anesthesia, not waking up, losing control, etc., formed the basis for the majority of the anxiety I felt heading into the surgery theater the first time. In the back of my mind, I couldn't shake the thought that the (albeit brave) decision of going through with my plan might also be my last! I usually do my best to avoid wearing my anxiety on my sleeve at home - Paige and I both feed off each other and the picture ends up not being pretty. I'm sure the weeks leading up to December 1 were about as stressful for her as they were for me.
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When I finally made my decision that bariatric surgery was a good decision for me, I immediately felt anxious. I believed it would be a great tool for me in getting back on track with my health. But there were so many unknowns.
Is this the right decision after all?
Who should I tell about it?
I thought about the hypothetical reactions my church members, colleagues, and friends. What would they think about the idea?
What if I end up regretting it years down the road?
Is major surgery worth the risk when there are alternate safer treatments available?
My mind hummed with potentialities.
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11 months. 70 pounds. 22 inches. 3 pants sizes. 2 shirt sizes. And don’t get me started on the cycling outfits!
The changes to my body, as bodies go, have been fast and furious.
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Yesterday I yelled at my four-year-old. Screamed really. With gusto.
It wasn't a fair fight.
The details of how the scenario came about are insignificant compared with the broader phenomenon. (That is to say, I blew up at him because of a slinky.)
When my platform of politeness, self-control, dignity, and maturity shuddered a touch, it gave way to anger -- under which was fear of loss, probably under which was actual unrelated loss. I could see the same anger, fear, and sadness in my sons eyes even as the scene unfolded. Looking back on it later, I felt as though I had kicked a kitten.
Perhaps there are parents who do not identify with losing their cool with their kids. Perhaps there are some who hold it together 99.9% of the time (or who at least appear to hold it together). Yet I'm sure we all move through the parenting years with different styles. I talked with a f...
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