Flower Petals for ZuZu

On my last post, I raised the question of whether you would re-live your life if you could. More specifically, if you could wake up tomorrow, and find yourself 7 years old, but knowing all you know now, would you do it?

I'm sure all the reasons that this is so intriguing to me would require a skilled counselor, but this question/daydream has popped up on a regular basis for much of my adult life. Usually, I spend the time thinking about things I would have done or not done, people I would have spent more time with/less time with, etc. But recently, I was pondering a separate issue that, I think, will put the issue to rest for me.

First off, the strongest reason to want to go back: My mom would still be alive today. Probably.

My mom died of ovarian cancer in 1989, at the age of 61. She was way too young and vital and fun to have died otherwise, and has left a mom-shaped hole in my heart that nothing can fill (nor should it - God doesn't make replaceable people). If I woke up, and was 7 again, I would be spending a significant amount of time convincing my parents that I knew what was going to happen ("trust me, a peanut farmer from Georgia will be president in less than 10 years!"), and that they should find a doctor willing to do a full hysterectomy as soon as possible - I'd reimburse them with the money I would get with some well-placed venture capital to some kids in the bay area ("Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, here's my Dad's life savings. Cut us in for 25%"). A hysterectomy at that age would ensure that cancer had not had time to get out of the ovaries, if it was there yet at all. Given the chance, I'll take my mom back. She never got to hold her grandchildren. Never got to tell my wife what a yummy pumpkin pie she makes. Never got to go all those places she and my dad were going to go once he retired. Too many nevers...

And actually, this leads to the other side of the equation. Could I change only the things I wanted to, or would my life careen too far in other directions to end up here? What got me thinking seriously along this thread was the occasion of the birth of my 4th son in January (no girls. game over. 4 for 4 and done). As I looked at him, and then his brothers, I really thought about them - the unique individuals that they are. How did they get here? (Yes, I know how they got here - had it figured out even before the first was born). I mean, they come from the same gene pool, and yet are vastly different. And then, I started really thinking about the astounding odds involved in each of their existences.

For each child, there were - let us say - multiple attempts at conception, but only one that was successful. With each attempt, millions of unique, individual sperm cells were all rushing to find an egg. When an egg was found, only one sperm cell was allowed in to complete the fertilization process, which would ultimately lead to development and birth. So, each of my boys is literally one in a multi-million, and precious beyond measure.

Now, here's where it gets tricky. Let us say that I could successfully negotiate my "life-over" to get me to the point of marriage to my darling wife. What are my chances of getting the same 4 sperm cells to fertilize the same 4 eggs? Beyond impossible. I know that the children of this do-over would be precious, wonderful, special, etc. I would love them fiercely and dearly. But. They wouldn't be my boys that I have now, and remember, part of the deal here is that I know the life I had lived, and was able to alter it so my mom didn't die of ovarian cancer, so I would know of and remember those guys.

Even sitting here and writing those words fills me with an ache in my chest. I could never - will never - turn my back on my precious children, sacrificing them on the altar of selfishness.

On the day that my Lord call me to my true home, my mom will be there, welcoming. She will have been waiting longer than she would have wanted, but after a couple thousand years of holding my hand, she'll get over it (We can talk about the nuts and bolts of Heaven sometime later).

Let me end with a word-picture of our lives: You're driving down a road in the fog, and drive over a wooden bridge. Immediately, the fog lifts, and you stop and look back. The bridge you just drove over is made entirely of toothpicks placed in an interlocking pattern that will collapse if even one is removed. There is only One who is skilled enough to put this bridge together: any attempt to improve upon the design will ultimately result in collapse.

George Bailey never knew how much he would miss ZuZu's flower petals, until they were gone.

Sorry for the lapse in posting

No real good excuses why I haven't been posting.
I thing my last posts threw me - I had a thought that sounded good in my head, but when I wrote it down, it started sounding more and more like I was a knuckle-dragging jerk.

Oh well.

My knuckles don't drag.

I have a post coming up next (too late to write it all now) about the following:
If you could wake up tomorrow, and be 7 years old, with your whole life to re-live, would you do it?
Why or why not?

Any comments would be coveted. I think I know what I would do, but the dilemma is significant. I'll explain next post.

Emperor's Clothes, Pt. 2

I kind of left the previous post without a good or satisfying conclusion. Maybe there isn't one.

I guess the final point or solution is to strive for a re-awakening of the idea of beauty as something transcendant - meaning not just dictated by current whim or fashion. Then, choices for clothing/hair/etc. would be made based on comparisons to the ideal, not the trendy.

I realize I am on incredibly shaky ground here, and have probably alienated what few readers I have, but I just wanted to explore this idea, throw it out, and see if anything comes back, good or bad.

What say you? Do I have a point, or am I just a jerk who doesn't understand?

The Emperor's Clothes

This is probably going to be the most inflamitory post I will ever make.

Ready?

I want to talk about women's fashion.
My point is this: as a college professor, I see lots of young women wearing clothes/hair/etc. reflecting current average-young-person fashion, and for the most part, it's awful. By awful, I mean that it makes the person look terrible. The current awful look is low-cut jeans with short t-shirt. Why is this awful? Because, for a high percentage of women, this means that we all get to look at their stomach and upper hips hanging over their pants - not unlike your average plumber.

Why do they do this? Why wear clothes that intentionally accentuate an unattractive aspect of their bodies?

Because the pretty girls wear it.

We live in a world that intellectually denies trancendent beauty, while we all inherently respond to it. Fashion designers are infected by the same nihilism as the rest of society, and don't actively pursue "beauty", instead opting for "new" and "different". So, instead of stepping back and realizing their work is ugly or unflattering, they go on strving after more new and different and "cutting edge".

How can they get away with this? They put thier stuff on models. Pretty girls.

If someone is inherently pretty/lovely/beautiful/attractive, they will look good in just about anything. It doesn't matter if the clothes/hair/makeup is itself unattractive, because the beauty of the person will shine through, and impart that beauty to the clothes/hair/makeup. Thus, the top few percent of "elite beauties" can get away with wearing anything, and making anything look attractive to the rest of us.

That leaves the majority of young women faced with "fashionableness" meaning wearing something that looks terrible on them.

I grieve for young women these days. What a terrible dilemma to be in.

First Things

I start a new semester today. I have a ridiculously cushy work schedule - more on that for a different post on work ethics.

The question that I consider now is this: what's my first priority as a professor?

My natural response is "don't mess up so badly that no one takes your classes ever again!" (I have issues with insecurity, fear of failure, desprerately wanting to be liked, etc). I have to fight against these tendencies if I have any hope of doing more than cashing a check and doing my time here.

I've found that the thing that transforms my teaching from a performance of my own making to something more, deeper, is to change my motive. My ongoing prayer for the duration of the semester is that - first and foremost - I would be a pleasing fragrance for Christ to my students. They'll get the nuts and bolts just fine, and learn the craft. What they need above and beyond that, however, is a glimpse of a way to live other than the nihilism of the secular campus.

May my life reflect the healer of my soul, and allow hope and love to shine a bit.

Update: I just need to say that I looked back at this post, and thought I sounded awfully good! In reality, I fall way short all the time, and mess up more times than I would care to say.