Life in 3D

Back in the beginning of December, I posted about cutting out the Face. I thought I would give you a little update about the effect that’s had on my life. There have been downsides, and I’ll just get those out of the way now.

Suck Number One

For one thing, the argument that I always used in favor of Face – it’s how I keep in touch with long-distance friends – was valid, in its way. I’m cut off from people who perhaps live in another state, or who I just don’t cross paths with often. But I’ve reminded myself that, honestly, if we were that close, our friendship would have withstood the end of my Facebook. I mean, if we’re not willing to put forth the effort to send an email or make a phone call in order to stay in touch, nothing against these people, but we’re obviously not BFFs, right?

Suck Number Two

The second (and last) downside: people looking at me like I’m crazy. Now, don’t get me wrong. This isn’t everyone. Actually, a person’s response to learning I don’t have Facebook is typically one of three. Many people are quite pleased. “You mean, there are humans under the age of eighty who function without Facebook? There is hope for humanity!” A few people have a guard up about it, as in “Well, that’s great for you. I still think Facebook is great, though. So don’t you try to evangelize me.” A handful of times, though, people have basically treated me as though I’ve come down with some debilitating illness. “Wait. You deleted your Facebook? You mean, you had one, and you deleted it? But … why? Well, why does it matter if it sucks away your whole day? But I won’t be able to look at your pictures anymore! But how do you talk to people? But – but – but -” I’m just waiting for someone to ask if I don’t have Facebook because I belong to a cult.

Now that we’ve got the lame out of the way, though, here’s some awesome.

Awesome Number One

I usually check my email in the morning. Not the moment I crawl out of bed, but not long after. And it used to be that “checking my mail” meant looking in my email account (which was empty save for junk mail) and then checking Face. I’d reply to messages, get ‘caught up’ on my news feed, look at pictures, leave comments, read linked articles, etc. An hour later (and sometimes more) I’d resurface with sore eyes and notice the kitchen needing cleaned. Of course, by then, my son would need his diaper changed, and I’d have to go to the bathroom, and of course I’d need breakfast. And after all that work, I’d figure it’d be time to check my Facebook again.

And then, one day, I just deleted the darn thing. After I checked my email, some sort of muscle memory in my fingers twitched to go see the Face, and then I remembered I didn’t have it. For a couple of days, it was uncomfortable, like the feeling after switching to a new pair of glasses. Then came the pleasantly disorienting sensation of not being attached to my computer. Which leads into …

Awesome Number Two

This one’s simple. There are twenty-four whole hours, every single day. And I just won two of them back, to do whatever I want. I can piddle them away with a movie (which I do, from time to time) or I can pray, or I can read, or I can write, or I can take my kid to the park. Heck yes!

Awesome Number Three

So, when I deleted my account, I assumed I would just have to deal with losing my cyber friends. These were people I’d met in real life (that’s a rule of mine) but who I primarily keep in contact with on Facebook. I collected emails and phone numbers before the Big Deletion, just in case, but felt pretty sure I wouldn’t be using them.

And then my friend Erika and I started emailing each other. I don’t remember who started it, but we have emailed back and forth several times. Without the Face connection, I had assumed I would miss any updates on the upcoming birth of her son. I wouldn’t learn his name (which they kept under wraps until his birth) or see any pictures. This refers back to Suck Number One, losing touch. But instead, Erika kept me up to speed when little Jonah was born, and when he had some health problems, I prayed for him. (He’s home and healthy now, praise God!)

Those emails, though maybe small gestures in themselves, verified that Erika and I have a genuine friendship. We care enough about each other to take the time to send a personal, private message, rather than just shooting off a sentence or two because we thought about it because we were already on Face. Maybe that’s not huge, but it’s reassuring. And Facebook couldn’t have done it for me.

Dust

has settled in our home,
chafing our touch
and cutting the light;

and though it’s as certain
as the laundry and the bills
and the alarm in the dark -
still I know;

our love is gold dust,
bursting against the gray
in towers of freckled light;

glittering ephemera, but
it settles;

leaving flakes
bedded down,
which shimmer,

when the light is right.

June 2011
I love you, Allen.

***

Post script. Honest to goodness, I posted this in January and the Valentine’s Day thing is just a coinkydink. :D

A Prayer For My Son

Thank You, Father, for my son.

Thank You for entrusting Your cherished child to my care.
Thank You for his providential personhood,
his distinction from me.
Let me never consider him the work of my hands,
but only ever the child of Your choosing.

I have been foolish:
impatient, selfish, weak-minded,
considered my calling a low one,
deemed myself worth more than the life You bestow.
I repent; I crave Your forgiveness.
Teach me joy in service,
grace in discipline,
wisdom in teaching.

Pour Your word into me,
that it might overflow into him.
I yearn to model You,
to provide a mirror that my son cannot deny,
to open the door to You.

Woo his heart, my Father,
as you’ve wooed mine.
Raise up, in my son, a warrior.

This prayer is modeled (kinda sorta) on the prayers found in The Valley of Vision, which I mention (primarily) in order to have the context to say: Go get this book. It’ll be worth your time and money.

How To Cloth Diaper (No Pins Necessary)

In a previous post I listed the most significant factors in my decision to cloth diaper. So now that we’ve got the why out of the way, let’s do the how.

I think people assume that taking care of cloth diapers is more complicated than it really is. The two big things you’ll have to learn right away are (Thing One) how to change them and (Thing Two) how to wash them.

Thing One: Changing

This depends on the kind of diaper you’ve got. When I first started cloth diapering, I was so befuddled by the array of choices that I just dove into the only kind I had seen in real life – pocket diapers. (These are probably the easiest, but also the most expensive.) I sort of wish I’d explored a little more open-mindedly, though, because once I got a grip on how the different varieties work, I didn’t feel the least bit overwhelmed.

Anyway, though.

So some cloth diapers (pocket and AIO) change just like disposables – lay it under baby, pull through and fasten. Well, that’s cake. Then there are diapers which need covers (prefolds, contours, and fitteds). There will be the absorbent pad and a cover. It isn’t much different from putting on two thin diapers, one right on top of the other.

I think, if you’re going to cloth diaper, cloth wipes just make good sense. I have two reasons – one, price. It’s not like wipes are a bank-breaker, but why pay for them if you don’t need to and you’re already doing laundry? Second, and a bigger deal to me, is that once you’re cloth diapering, cloth wipes are such an easy transition. Some people make or buy cloth wipe mix, but I just run my wipes under a faucet and ring them out before changing. There is no additional care for cloth wipes. It’s all the same stuff (although maybe thirty extra seconds at the toilet).

You can buy cloth wipes, but I don't see the point - cut a standard flannel receiving blanket into sixteenths. Voila! Here they are after several weeks of use and washing.

After an on-the-go changing, a waterproof bag like this one is a must. This way you can carry the dirty diaper safely home. At home, if the diaper is just wet, take out any inserts and toss it in your diaper pail (which should be lined with a waterproof liner like this one).

If it’s poopy, you’ll have to get any solids off the diaper. This is The Big Bummer of cloth diapering – it’s not difficult, but it’s not fun either. You can get a toilet sprayer, which you install directly into the plumbing beneath your toilet tank, and which works kind of like a kitchen hose. Take out inserts, spray solids off of the diaper and the wipes, throw everything into the pail and wash your hands (as if I need to tell you that last part, right?). They say that breastfed poo is water-soluble and can go straight into your washer, but personally, I’d rather spray it off.

Thing Two: Laundry

Heck yes!

When it comes to laundry, you’re pretty much guaranteed that you’ll make tweaks to any process you find endorsed. The basics, though – four steps.

• Run a cold rinse spin to prevent stains from baking on.
• Run a regular wash with half the suggested amount of a cloth-diaper-friendly detergent (I use biokleen, but there are a lot of options.)
• Run an extra spin to get out any residue. (You’ll probably have to strip your diapers from time to time, too, but more on that later.)
• Dry. You can tumble dry everything on low, or you can just do the inserts and then line-dry anything with PUL, the waterproof material. The dryer can wear PUL down, but it dries quickly on a line. I live in a wet climate, so I usually can’t sun-dry, but I hang them from clothespins tied to the closet rod in my son’s room and they dry in two or three hours.

After your diapers are washed and dry, if you have pockets/AIOs, you’ll need to stuff the inserts (you can also do this at changing time, but it’s quick and easy, so I like to get it done all at once in the morning). As for storage, everyone has their own style. Some people use wicker baskets. Some people throw them in a drawer. Some people stuff, fold and fasten their diapers, to make them look tidy. Some people toss them in wherever they go. I have a drawer for diapers and wipes, and I keep wet bags and extra inserts in a little box which I made myself (flaunt, flaunt :P).

It’s really common, I’ve noticed, for moms to feel overwhelmed by all the Stuff that goes along with cloth diapering – everything you’ve got to learn, all the new work you’ll be doing, the supplies you have to buy. I know it held me back from cloth for months and months. I’m glad I finally caved, though. I’m a stay-at-home mom, so I have ample opportunity to take care of them. But I was so surprised by how easy they are – I can confidently say that I believe even a working mom will have the time and resources she needs to adjust quickly to the cloth diapering lifestyle.

My only regret is that I didn’t do it sooner.

When Something is Really Real

A movie has to have a lot of merit before I’ll recommend it to a friend, and even more before I’ll recommend it to the general public. But this morning I found one that meets both standards.

It’s called Arranged, and it tells the story of an unlikely friendship – between Rochel, an Orthodox Jew, and Nasira, a Muslim, who both live in Brooklyn and teach in a public school. To everyone’s surprise, and several people’s indignation, the two girls find that they understand each other, and soon they realize that there is one weighty common ground between them – arranged marriages which haven’t yet come to fruition.

Zoe Lister Jones as Rochel, and Francis Benhamou as Nasira

This isn’t intended to be a movie review, but I have to tell you – go watch this film. It’s not a Christian movie (which I think is implied if you just read the previous paragraph) but it’s poignant and sweet and investing. I’d be hard-pressed to name a better-acted movie from recent years.

The movie’s tagline is “Friendship has no religion.” It makes a valid and much-needed point about loving others, even when you don’t agree with them. The two girls respect each other unconditionally, even in the face of ignorance and disdain, and their commitment is touching.

That said, it made me think about something.

In one scene, Nasira accompanies Rochel to a cemetery, where she prays for guidance and speaks to a passed relative, presumably a grandparent. As she sways on the spot and whispers, holding her scriptures, Nasira stands behind, respectful and quiet.

I wondered to myself, “What is Nasira thinking, right now?”

If she really believes that her beliefs are true, then she believes that Rochel’s are wrong. If they are friends, then Nasira cares about her. And if she cares about her, she cares about her eternal standing.

If that’s all true, then there’s a logical disparity; Nasira is respectfully sitting back, watching her friend engage in activities which she believes are wrong and which lead away from eternal peace.

Maybe she is open to the possibility that Rochel’s religious concepts are right, and her own are wrong. But if she’s not sure, then why is she submitting to an arranged marriage? Why is she wearing a hijab?

It doesn’t make sense.

A person who believes that salvation only comes one way cannot have peace about a loved one not believing in that way. They can love that person – and in fact, they must. But that is something different. When Rochel prayed over a grave, it wasn’t the right time for Nasira to pipe up and correct her. That wouldn’t have been loving.

But there should have been a time when the girls expressed how they really felt about each other’s religions. People of opposing beliefs can easily have respectful, meaningful, and loving conversations about those beliefs. I know. I’ve done it. In fact, to not bring up that conversation is the opposite of loving.

I am not saying that Nasira should be hounding Rochel until she gives in, or vice versa. Let’s say Rochel and Nasira had a heart-to-heart about what they believed, each hoping the other would convert, but not pressing, and both girls decided to stay committed to their religions. Okay. Maybe you have had a conversation like that. Okay. Cause here’s the thing; it’s their choice.

But it’s a choice that we can offer in a concrete way. Maybe they’ve been searching, in their hearts, for years, and when we say God’s name, it lights up for them. Maybe they haven’t been searching, or maybe they are intentionally not searching. Still, what does it hurt to mention it? It’s an awful disservice to the Lord who saved us to think that He’s not worth mention when we have nothing to lose (and we usually don’t).

One of my pastors likes to ask, “Do you really believe that what you believe is really real?” A person who really believes there is a chair in the room will not hesitate to sit on it. And if we see a person getting ready to sit down on a chair that doesn’t exist, shouldn’t we say something?