There are not too many things I am passionate about but Tibet is one of them.  I would ask you to boycott China as much as you can (ie – buy American) and don’t support the advertisers who support the Olympics. Or at least support Team Tibet.

I’ve lived overseas for the last 7 years. Being outside of the US has giving an incredible perspective on what is positive and negative about my home. The one thing that I value above anything else is the freedom of speech – the right to say what I want about whatever I want.  The Tibetian don’t have that right. Please stand for them.

So I’ve lived at least 6000 miles away from my family for the last 7 years.  I never felt homesick until this week.  It’s nothing to get too worked up about, only my grandmother’s sister died.  I haven’t seen her in at least 20 years.  But it’s just the fact that I can’t go home on a whim is what making me homesick.  My son, who has lived overseas almost his entire life doesn’t know anything about the US.  When should I move back?  I don’t know.  Living away so long has made me appreciate both the negative and most incredibly positive things about the US…..i’m really homesick today….

My most favorate quote attributed to Buddha is “You will not be punished for your anger, you will be punished by your anger”.  I, also, like this one: ”Anger is like holding on to a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone.  You are the one who gets burned”. 

I’m not a monk.  I don’t know everything about Buddhism.  But I do know about the 4 noble truths and the eight-fold path.  I appreciate the peacefulness and quiet that studying Buddhism gives me.  Today, a co-worker told me that arranged marriages are a practice of Buddhism.  I have never heard that before.  I tried to tell her that I don’t think it was Buddhism that approved of arranged marriages but that it probably was a cultural thing.  She said that she didn’t believe it at first but looked it up on the internet and it was true.  Ok….like we believe everything we read online. 

But believing the internet is a topic for another day.  I did look online, and there are many references to cultures that are typically Buddhist practicing arranged marriages.  It seems contrary to one of the precepts of the Eightfold Path – “right action” which tends to encompass the virtue of do no harm.  But is arranged marriage harmful?  As a strong-willed American woman, it bothers me at every sense.  But to parents whose culture has always practiced arranged marriages, are they doing harm?  They might think that they are doing a great thing for their son or daughter. 

I don’t know.  The two, Buddhism and arranged marriages, seem contrary to me.  But who am I to judge?  It may be my own preconceived notions of what is right and wrong. 

I was driving to work today.  I hit “shuffle” on my ipod.  The next three songs were “Stronger” by Kayne West, “Lose Yourself” by Eminem, and “Gimme Shelter” by the Strolling Bones.  Wow!  What a religious experience!

I was reading this blog regarding interfering relatives and it got me to thinking.  Why do people who don’t live with you, don’t deal with your daily stresses, and don’t have an intimate knowledge of your child’s medical background seem to think they know better than you how a situation should be handled? 

My 9-year old son has ADHD.  He was diagnosed over 3 years ago.  He takes medication and, yes, it helps him immensely.  The decision to medicate him wasn’t taken lightly but only after consultation with his doctor, a psychiatrist, and his teachers.  Once I told my mother that we were going to be giving my son medication, her response was “I hope you received medical advice before doing that”.  Uh, hello?  The medication is by prescription only.  How the heck do you think I got it for him? 

Since starting the medication, my son’s behavior has drastically improved.  He is doing better in school and is building friendships.  I still get grief from my mom.  But as one of my friends put it, “would your mother want you to stop medicating him if he had diabetes or cancer”?  The answer is no, but my mom doesn’t see ADHD as a disease, she sees it as bad parenting.

Of course, my mother’s criticism of me didn’t start with my son.  She’s been critical since I can remember.  But this isn’t about her relationship with me, it’s about what is doing best for my child.  I struggle to tune out unsolicited advice.  It’s for me, my son, and his doctor, to make the responsible, appropriate choices regarding his treatment.  The rest of the world can butt out! 

Today, I am reflecting on one of my favorite Bible verses, Philippians 4:12-13 (NIV):

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty.  I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well-fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.  I can do all this through Him who gives me strength. 

Having grown up in suburban American, it seems like I’ve always lived in plenty and in want.  Not want because I was lacking but because I always wanted more.  It wasn’t until I went to Haiti in 2001 that I came to realize that I have everything I need and a whole lot of stuff that I don’t.  The Haitians I met had nothing but the joy of God and still felt incredibly blessed.  They have truly learned Paul’s secret of being content in any and every situation. 

Scatterbrained 

Scatterbrained, shattered pain

slivers of thought

around and around and around

can’t stop, can’t start

trying to quiet the scattered brain

I walked my dog this morning, just as every morning.  Today, she decided to poop in someone’s driveway.  Now, I’m a responsible dog owner.  I carry little poop recovery bags with me to clean up after my dog.  However, I felt a little awkward that she was going in the driveway.  As she finished, I bent down to pick up the poop and I noticed the neighbors outside their front door staring at me.  I nervously yelled “Sorry” but they didn’t respond.  They just kept staring. 

That got me thinking.  What is the correct protocol for a dog pooping on someone’s property?  When I was growing up, we never cleaned up after our dogs.  I checked with my husband.  He, too, never cleaned up after his childhood dog.  These days, it’s expected, and required in a lot of municipalities, to clean up after your pooch.  But why the cold shoulder from the neighbors?  I did clean it up.  And I was in the process of cleaning it up before I even noticed them, therefore, not just cleaning poop because I had been caught.  I think tomorrow I will walk on the other side of the street.

I was in 4th grade.  His name was Butch.  He sat two rows over and three seats up.  Luckily, the teacher’s desk was in the same direction so while I aimlessly stared at the back of his head, Mrs. Leadbetter would think I was paying attention to her. 

A painful right of passage had arrived – Valentine’s Day.  Mrs. Leadbetter gave each of us a manila folder to decorate with our names and other valentine things like hearts and cupids.  She took the folders and stapled them to the bulletin board in the back of the room.  Here, we could put valentines for classmates in their individual folders.

My mom bought me a box of pre-printed cards in which I only had to write my classmate’s name and my name.  Ones that said “Bee my valentine” and “Scooby Doo says I ruv you”.  I wanted so much more for Butch.  I took a piece of yellow legal-sized paper from my dad’s desk and began to write my first love letter.  I poured as much love as my 10 year old heart could hold in to that letter.  I remember asking my dad, “how do you spell ‘admire’ “? 

Two days later, it was Valentine’s Day.  Mrs. Leadbetter pulled down the folders and handed them out to the children.  I looked at my folder with nervous anticipation, just certain that I would receive just as lovely a valentine from Butch. 

From across the room, I heard “Hey, this isn’t a valentine”.  Immediately I realized my mistake.  What was I thinking, giving a 4th grade boy a love letter in the middle of class?  I sunk down in my chair, hoping that he would just move on to his other cards.  No such luck.  I heard giggles.  I listened as Butch read aloud, “I really admire you” and more giggles.  My face burned with humiliation as I looked in Butch’s direction and saw all the boys around him, reading my letter, and turning to laugh at me.

I don’t remember much about the 4th grade but I will never forget that day.  I’d like to tell you that Butch fell madly in love with me and proclaimed it from the top of the monkey bars.  That didn’t happened.  What did happen is that I endured a few weeks of “Butch and Mary sitting in the tree….k-i-s-s-i-n-g” until everyone moved on to the next victim of elementary school teasing. 

**Names have been changed to protect the innocent.