Doing right in the face of oppression

For a while now I have loved reading dystopian novels. Mainly because it deals with a brave individual who fights for what is right despite opposition and oppression. The Hunger Games, Matched Series, The Uglies series, etc. I love the story of those who realize that their world isn't all that they want it to be and fight for a change. I love even more the Uglies series in which all the main character wants to do is fit in and yet is constantly challenged with the fact that "fitting in" would result in giving up an integral part of herself.

This Christmas I finally saw Lincoln. There were two things that hit me very hard in this movie that I hope I remember forever 1) war is personal. Maybe if we still fought hand to hand, had to see every face inches from your own when we killed, we would not be so eager to jump into the fray. I am sure those who have been in combat can attest to the horrors but that is another topic for another post. The second thing I realized was 2) Lincoln had a very very hard job to do and sometimes we forget that to some this was not seen an obvious wrong that needed to be righted. Half of the country was opposed, some of them within Lincoln's own party.

We live with the fact that the Northern States won over the Southern Confederation every day. You might not know it but each morning we wake up, 50 states undivided, and continue with our lives. Growing up I had an interracial couple for my backdoor neighbors. We played with their kids, got pushed on the swings by their grandfather affectionately known as Grandpa Joe to the neighborhood kids, and really none of this seemed out of place. How can you think that something is unique if it is the only thing that you have ever known. I didn't realize then and I am just realizing now the enormity of what has been accomplished.

I only have the movie to go on (which probably had some dramatizing involved so I apologize for any inaccuracies) but Lincoln pushed through the 13th Amendment with the threat (yes threat) of peace over his head. Lincoln used the civil war as leverage to push that in the eyes of the law ALL men are created equal. Now we won't get into Jim Crow laws or the following struggle to have this amendment reflected in society (and the racism that is still evident in parts of our country) but this is amazing. The first time the constitution mentions slavery is to reflect that it was illegal.

In the books I read there are obvious sides. In life this is not the case. President Lincoln was a leader of a great Nation and he was fighting even those within his own party to right the wrong. The main characters in the book only have to fight those that would oppress them. Lincoln, by what I saw in the movie, could have made peace ended the war, demanded surrender terms, and maintained his good standing with those who trusted him to act in their stead. Instead he fought for those that had no voice. He pushed off ending the war, killing many more men, to ensure that we could move forward as a Nation that would not have slavery.

With hindsight there are clear sides to this issue but those same people who stood on either side of this issue also stood next to their oppositions on other issues. This has always been the case and will continue to be the case in the future. Issues do not stand alone in a vacuum. I wish they did. But I have come to realize that nothing will be as clear cut as it is in the books. Changing one thing changes the whole. This is hardly addressed in these books because the clean up after the change is almost as hard as the change itself. America can attest to that.

 Looking back I can applaud Lincoln for what he did, how could I not? But what if my son, brother, father, or husband died in that last battle while he pushed off peace? What if I lost my home, living, family, or life in the pursuit of it? Would I applaud? I don't know. I would like to think that I would have said it was worth it. That the price I and others had to pay was worth what was gained. What if I fought for the other side? What if I thought that the southern economy would not survive? If I had to pay such a great price and still at the end of the war, lose the world that I had known, would I have applauded even if I opposed slavery?

I can't answer these questions. I have never been challenged in such a way. Maybe I read those books to be more like the heroes and heroines. So that if the time comes when I need to pay the price I can look back and say it was worth it.

The Baker family Christmas Letter

Every year that I can remember (except for the first two years my parents moved down to Winston-Salem) my dad has, with great joy, patience, and a lot of frustration about margins and page lengths, issued the annual Baker Christmas letter.

I don't know when the tradition started or when it turned into a list of funny happenings from our family but it became a "thing". Frequently at church one of my friends would run up and tell me that they had gotten the Christmas letter. This was, unfortunately, followed up by a recitation of one of my embarrassing moments of the year. Luckily, my dad has always been sensitive to what is being sent out in the letter so he always let us read, and remove, any stories that we deemed "too embarrassing".

The most frustrating part of the Christmas letter is getting a call, text AND email from my dad on December 20th asking me "What are some stories from the past year?" My faulty memory, never stellar to begin with, blanks at the demand for a memory. If someone says quick what is your favorite memory about X all I end up thinking is "Craaaapppp why don't I have any memories about that?!". The pressure is suddenly on not only to remember funny things that have happened to you, your siblings, parents or extended family, but they also have to be funny and witty enough to warrant an inch or two of sacred letter space.

Our present last year which was a 

print out of all the letters since 1993

The second most frustrating and yet fondly remembered time is the actual mailing of the letter. In the past we would include with the letter: 1) matching cards - hand signed by each of us and 2) a picture of us from Walmart (the portrait kind where we are wearing matching sweaters) or a copy of a picture of us with Santa (disregarding the fact that you are 16 and, lets face, waaayyy to cool for all your friends to know that your mom still makes you sit on santa's lap). We would have a production line of all the kids plus parents, folding the printed out letter, putting it into the card with the picture, stuffing an envelope, licking the envelope closed, and addressing and stamping the envelope (luckily with printed off labels, return addresses, and self stick stamps). Fortunately we have cut it down to just the letter and card signed by one of us on behalf of the family.

This year's letter has been just as I always remembered. Dad working to get stories and then cut those down to bare wittiness so that to make the one page (front and back) requirement. Katie editing the story, Kristen reluctantly accepting that she is the focus of one of the stories, and John being completely chill about the arrangement. O yes, and mom worried about a) when we will stuff the letters b) if we have enough stamps and c) when we will get to mail them (NO POST ON SUNDAYS!).

As a break to writing this post I attempted to assist my dad in making the two page requirement (two sentences too many) and, after three seconds of scrolling, was rudely shooed away to go finish whatever I was doing on the other side of the table.

Dad hard at work after the shooing me away to focus on those

two stubborn lines that refused to make the page the right length

Regardless of the fact that the letter is some what of a pain, I can freely admit that it wouldn't be christmas without it. Christmas would be just a little bit less sentimental without the craziness of the letter. In fact, last year we received a book of all the letters we have sent out and it was a great way to remember all the memories I often forget about. Also, I would hate to disappoint those avid fans of my dad's yearly reflective prose. 

Now I must go. My dad is whimpering and calling for me to assist him with holding the letter up to the light.... don't ask.

Merry Christmas!!!

What I am thankful for

November has always, at least for Americans, been a time where we can reflect on what we have and be thankful. Many people over social media, blogs, and vlogs, have been doing their day to day remembrances and I want to join in the fun. Unfortunately I can't be a daily blogger (sorry) but I can be a  one time blogger so here we go - The 7 things I am most thankful for.

1) My safety. Sandy and then Athena have shown me how blessed I am to have been spared even the mild inconvenience of a power outage. My heart hurts for those that have lost their homes and mementos. I wish I could do more than to send supplies and clothes. 

2) Amazing roommates. I am living with two of my good friends from College. It is great not having to get to know them on a base level. I have lived with Caitlin in the past and while it took some time to get used to it again we have hit our rhythm. Learning to live with Dana has been fun. While Caitlin and I are similar in many ways - Dana is the complete opposite from me and it has been a joy to get to learn new ways of doing things and getting to see the world the way that Dana does.

3) My Family of course :) I have always held that my family is one of the best out there (as I am sure many people do). I have grandparents that have nothing but pride in their grandchildren and simply enjoy watching us grow and become our own people. I have aunts and uncles that enjoy seeing their families and having crazy Dutch Blitz or Spades games. I have Cousins with whom I thoroughly enjoy spending time. Even though I am 4+ years older than all of them, age never seems to matter when we are together.

I have parents that have supported me and my siblings regardless of our actions and delight not only in their kids but in each other. They are my example of Happily Ever after. They make love real. Katie is my opposite in every way. Where I am reserved she is outgoing. Where she is spontaneous I am planned. We spark each other. In our youth these sparks became fights. Now in our adulthood they (mostly) mean a thorough adventure. Katie says we go and I find a way to get us there. Kristen is who I aspire to be. She is confident in who she is. She is quirky and fun and humble and outrageous. She frequently acknowledges her hate of spelling and then says that it instilled in her a knowledge that some things have to be fought for. John is the lynch pin of our family. He is truly spoiled. We didn't realize what our family was missing until he came along. He is fun and sweet and love sports and is so smart that he makes me sick. And popular. That kid walks into a room and everyone wants to be his friend. 

4) The boat that is my car. The Caddy has taken good care of me though you can't really same of me for it. It is a well made car and I don't think that I will need a new car for another couple of years which means that, hopefully, I will have enough saved up to just pay cash for a new one.

5) My Job. I got my job in the middle of the worst part of the economic downturn. Luckily I was a part of a program that was trying to get off the ground and it was spearheaded by the CFO. I had a job when people I graduated with were fighting tougher and tougher competition to get what jobs there were and the number of those jobs had dropped dramatically. Through that program I got to do something I love, auditing, and auditing has taken me to the west coast, Canada, South America, and Asia. The travel is tough and I complain about it some but some people never leave their home town and I feel extremely lucky to experience new cultures (biggest lesson I have learned: Argentines REALLY do not like that Las Malvinas are under the British Crown).

6) My Faith. And for so many reason and much bigger reasons than the one I am going to put here but if it wasn't for my faith I would be a push over. No really. I am a people pleaser to the extreme. If it wasn't for the faith that I believe in, and my need to actually defend and stand up for it, I might have compromised on a lot of issues that aren't even related to my faith. 

7) Penn State. College is where I decided to come into my own. I made friends with a ton of great people, lost a friend for a while, had a boyfriend, and shortly after graduation got a tattoo. Got an amazing education. Learned to have school spirit (never had it in middle school or high school). Most of all, I became Jessie. I was on my own and making my own decisions. I admitted my love of hip hop, country, sci fi, and other genres of reading beyond romance. Though I continue to grow, Penn State is where I stepped out of my parents house and started taking responsibility for myself. Those 4 1/2 years were amazing and I wouldn't trade them for anything.

The die has been cast

Today at 8:07 AM EST I cast my vote for who should be the next president.

It was a different feel than what I anticipated. The past two times I have voted has been at the Penn State HUB. Students shove leaflets in your hands, the same ones that you slip on as you make you way to the front of the line.

Standing in line at Penn State I always felt like I was performing an obligation, something I had to do because I was an american and to do otherwise would just be.... well un-american. Not to mention my family wouldn't speak to me for a week.

Today felt different. I don't know if it is because I am older or maybe cause I took the time to research my candidates but today felt good. Like I had done something positive.

I heard one grandmother explaining to her granddaughter that it wasn't because of WHO she was that she couldn't vote but because she wasn't old enough. (To which she promptly responded with "o.k. I will vote when I am 5"). I am blessed to live in a country that continually strives for equality. It's hard and it's rough and the growing pains hurt but today is one day that I can take pride in. Not because I am helping in choosing our future, but because 236 years ago my country decided that taxation without representation in front of The Crown was wrong, 143 years ago we acknowledged that race could not determine who got elect a president, and 92 years ago we acknowledged that gender could not factor in granting voting rights. Four years ago we elected our first African American President. Hopefully it will not be another 92 before we have our first Woman President.




This all happened because we voted, we determined our course.

I am proud to be a part of the country and today, when so many conflicting ideas are being posted, tweeted, or blogged, I am glad that I can look back and see who we were and be proud of who we are today.

Future

I think it's time I had a long talk with the man upstairs about where he wants my career to go - because I , for one, have no idea.

I love storms!!!

When I was little I was terrified of storms. I mean I was was really really really piss your pants scared of them. At the time my parents lived in Charlotte, NC which frequently got the tail end of hurricanes as well as the normal everyday thunder and lightning storms.

As an adult I can understand where that fear came from. Imagine a little two year old with white blond extremely curly hair seeing flashes of light and hearing big roaring sounds and not understanding where they came from. To remedy this my parents did something that I thank them for every single time a storm rolls around. My mom and dad would take me out onto our back porch, which was small but covered, and would hold me as we sat and watched the rain come pouring down around our house. With her calming voice saying "wow look at that one Jessie. That was a BIG flash of light" or his loving voice murmuring "That was a really deep rumble. I felt it in my tummy." I slowly moved from quivering under my dad's arm, face hidden in the crook, to sitting comfortably on his lap enjoying the beauty of something so fierce.

This became our thing to do. When we moved to Yardley, PA we lost the back porch but made up for it by using our garage. As our family grew, so did the company. Katie, Kristen, John, and sometimes Rebel (most times he hid in the closet) would join us sitting in folding chairs, getting excited to see the fury of a raging storm. Often one of us would just jump out of our chair, throw off our shoes and run into the slashing rain. It wouldn't be long before the rest of the siblings and dog would join in the fun, laughing and running around. I am sure the neighbors thought that we were crazy.

To this day, I still have an absolute giddiness about a big ass storm. When I heard that hurricane Sandy was due to hit Philadelphia head on I was so excited. My roommates and I got all the necessary preparations. Stayed in doors during the worst of it and I eagerly looked outside to see the roaring intensity to hit the northeast since 1903.

I wasn't let down. There wasn't any thunder or lightning and not a lot of rain but the wind more than made up for it. Hearing the wind rage outside my window late last night with the memories of being held safe by my dad when I was younger and celebrating in the rain with my siblings when I was older, I dropped right off to sleep.

Well it's time to get personal

This post has been left as a draft on my blog for almost 3 months. I have debated time and time again on whether to publish it and now that I am, I am having trouble thinking of a title for this post. I don't know if it is a rant about how women are portrayed in the media, a plea for understanding, just a story of my experience, or a combination of all three.

I recently saw a rerun of Modern family in which the concept of PMS was explored in the leap day episode. I have mixed feeling about this episode. On one hand it shows the women being rational and only acting crazy in response to the men's over-reaction to the fact that they are all PMS-ing (which is something the men in the show admit to not understanding and liking it to the women being "monsters"). On the other hand it shows them pouring orange juice into cereal, putting two socks on one foot, and hysterically crying to the Sara McLaughlin ASPCA commercial (that last one is feasible though, even without added hormones those commericals are designed to pull your heart strings). I enjoyed seeing the writers show that women can be rational during that time of the month, that sometimes it is the craziness of others that we respond harshly to but it ruins it by showing the women do random nonsensical acts to promote the idea that, in some way, the men's responses are justified.

This "justification" flows into real world  as well. I suffer from heavy cramps and mood swings. I take medication each month to counter act the effects of the cramps and I track my mentrual cycle so that I can be aware of when my reactions are a result of increased hormone level or they are actually how I feel. I do all of this so that I can function just as well as other women and men on any given day. Sometimes the medication does not work and I will have to leave work early. I do not get special treatment for this. I do not want special treatment for it. It is treated as if I had a cold or the flu and I have to take time off of work. Once my available days at work are used up I can either A) choose to stay at work or B) take unpaid day off. This is not any different than any other medical reason to leave work and let me say that it IS a medical condition.

In the past I have been accused of using my condition as 1) an excuse to get out of work early 2) A pathetic attempt to get attention 3) a form of manipulation. And not only by men, women have said the same. I think that is just stupid. Yes stupid. I am sure that there are some women that use PMS to their advantage and this makes it harder for people who actually have serious issues with it to be taken seriously, especially those who have PMDD (a more severe form of PMS). When I am told that it "isn't that big of a deal" and "to get over it", it makes me feel less because of something that I was born with and that I have tried to control since I was 13.

I guess this is just a post for those who are in the same situation to say that you aren't alone. If you haven't already, go to the doctors to see what can be done to manage the pain and hormonal swings. Most of all don't let what other people say define who you are. Keep your head high.

Story of my friends through pictures

 Alpha Delta Class  Phi Sigma Pi

 Trip to DC/Baltimore to visit Lou

 Wedding of one of the sweetest woman ever

 My PSU crew in Philly to watch us crush Temple

 My amazing group of friends that say "OK" when I ask

to jump into a freezing river for charity

 Some of my Fave PSPers in Las Vegas celebrating Becca's Bday

 The crew at the wedding of Mike and Lori

 This girl is who I get crazy with even though 

she is all the way out in Montana

 Somewhat yearly pilgrimage to State College for Artsfest 

 Out with my PSPers

 Trust me - it's cold in the polar plunge

 Halloween SuperSenior year

 Fantastic Pictures

 The Church Crew

 The best way to move a couch is to

support it out of the trunk as your friend drives the 

car around the corner.

 Front Row to support the Nittany Lions

 PSP block for the whiteout

 Showing our THON family our support

with a great outing to watch the Lions play ball

 Winery Tour

 I miss this Crazy girl!

 Sledding in Manayunk

We're bad ass! Warrior Dash

The desire to Experience

I can see the Grand Canyon out of my window right now as I fly back to Philadelphia. Seeing the Grand Canyon has been on my bucket list long before any other item was, long before I even had a bucket list. I knew that before I died I wanted to see this American Marvel. Long before I wanted to go to all 7 continents, before I wanted to see Europe, before I wanted to sky dive or learn Spanish I wanted to see the Grand Canyon.

It wasn’t a burning passion. It wasn’t something I talked about endlessly or hung pictures of on my walls. It was just something I wanted to do. Now I can say that I have seen the Grand Canyon. I could, if I wanted, cross it off my bucket list. But I won’t.

I have pictures of the beginning parts of it but I didn’t take photos of what everyone really goes to see, the widest and deepest parts of the canyon, the part that makes it “Grand”. Normally when experiencing a new place or a new activity there is a euphoria associated with it. Something that in my gut tells me “Here you are. Did you think that you would ever be doing this? Smile. Enjoy it.” This is normally accompanied by frenzied picture taking (Faulty Memory Protection).

This seeing of the Grand Canyon lacks this Euphoria and desire for pictures. Part of it is that I am on a flight. How excited can you get about something when you are thousands of feet above it?  But I have seen things from planes before that I haven’t seen in person that made me go “Wow”.

In the 15 minutes it took from when it first entered my sight until it was gone, I realized I had written my bucket list all wrong. I can’t be excited about the Grand Canyon because I haven’t experienced it. I haven’t stood looking at the other side and shouted my name wondering at the same time why a duck’s quack doesn’t echo. (Seriously – why doesn’t a duck’s quack echo?). I haven’t looked down and thought about the men and women who trekked by there in the past on their way to the Californian dream. I haven’t camped or hiked or done anything that connects me to the experience.

So from now on my bucket list will say “Experience the Grand Canyon”. I was not created to see life, I was created to enjoy it.

John 10:10b - I came that they may have life, and have it to the full.

I HATE MAKING DECISIONS!

So in trying to do my duty as an American Citizen I need to decide what issues are important to me and in what issues are MOST important. I am obviously not going to agree with all the views held by whichever candidate I vote for but the majority of the views held by the candidate should match how I feel about my top issues. The problem is sometimes I can't decide. For example:

Drilling for oil in previously restricted US areas

PROS: Creates potential jobs for US workers, reduces our dependence on foreign oil
CONS: Possible damage to the environment, does not reduce our dependence on oil overall

The problem I am trying to reconcile is that both options hold good points. Do I want people in America to have jobs? Heck yeah I do! Do I want to reduce the our dependence on oil in favor of more ecological friendly alternatives? YES!

Because both of these are things that I want and I think that both are vitally important I have to weigh which one I want more.

I feel that as a Christian we are entrusted with God's earth and should protect it as much as possible. Not only that but we have a duty to future generations to use our resources wisely. But at what cost?

You can argue that focusing our energies on finding fuel alternatives creates jobs, just as drilling close to america would. But this denies a few truths - the jobs created for energy alternatives are not for those that would be working on an oil rig. I can't say for sure but I definitely think that jobs created at the higher end of the education level bars those who do not have an advanced degree but if someone with an advance degree needs a job, he can apply for jobs that do not have as strict requirement for education. This means that the job creation is not equal. If job creation isn't equal than that is another factor that should be determined as well. Who am I to judge who get the jobs? I know people on both walks of life.

The other thing is that if drilling in America would mean that we stopped drilling elsewhere then the ecological impact would be negated. But it isn't. Those doing the drilling are companies. The bottom line is their goal. That isn't a bad thing. If it wasn't their goal they would be a NFP entity. So then do we increase the chances of having another environmental disaster, as with BP? That disaster also cost a lot of people their jobs.

As one of my favorite author says "The truth often defies simplicity".

So once I finally make my decision on where I stand on this issue (which research still has to be done on my end so I don't fall victim to someone else's bias) then we have to bring in something like healthcare.

 Do I want everyone to have healthcare? Of course! Do I want to pay for the cost of treating lung cancer for someone who has smoked for 20 years? No! Do I want people with pre existing conditions to have healthcare? Yes! Do I think that small business should be forced to pay health insurance? No.

Once again I would have to do research to come to my own conclusions on where I stand. THEN on top of that I have to decide if my stance for drilling on american soil or healthcare was more important than the other ESPECIALLY if neither candidate support both of my views.

Then again maybe Obama supports my #1 and 4 but Romney supports #2 and 3? Where do I go from there. Romney might support more of top choices but Obama might support my #1.

This mess of decision making is the main reason I voted straight ticket in the last election. This is also the reason I will not vote straight ticket again. Voting straight ticket is supporting a political parties views. It's time I supported my own.

Remembering the victims and brave heroes

Tuesday September 11, 2001 I sat in Latin class as one of the girls came in late and announced that a plane had hit a building in NY. No one really paid much attention because we didn't know really what had happened. Somehow someone found out that it was the WTC and a jet airliner had crashed into it. We turned on the TV in our classroom to see the second plane hit. Our jaws dropped. A half hour later, we heard that the pentagon had been hit. We didn't know what to do. We were inbetween NYC and DC, were we next?

The principal of our school came onto the PA system to tell the school what had happened. During that announcement, the TV showed the wreckage in Shanksville, PA of the flight that didn't make it's destination. Since many people in our area commute into NYC for work, those who had parents in NYC were allowed to leave class and head to the office to call home. Many didn't come back as they drove home to wait to hear from loved ones. The principal requested that we keep the TVs off. Most of the teachers complied but our thoughts were with those in NY. 5th period chemistry we turned on the TV. The teacher wanted to know just as much as we did how this happened. Two flights had hit. This wasn't an accident.

The news broke that it had been a deliberate attempt by those in the Taliban. No one understood. No one had heard of this group before. I had. My sister has long been called to Afghanistan to work and minister to the women there. I knew this group. It was the group that my sister would be opposing while she was over there. I had always thought of them as a foreign thing. An oppressive regime that was far away. It affected my sister, it would never touch me. I learned that day how wrong I was. The TV suddenly cut off as more information was coming in on who and why and how. The principal had finally found the switch that turned off all the TVs.

That day changed me, it changed us. As Americans, Christians, Muslims, Athiests, Parents, Children, Siblings, spouses, or whatever you were. We heard through the grapevine who had been pulled out of class, who had gone home because they couldn't be in school anymore and most devastatingly, one girl sobbing in the hall because her family just found out her dad, who worked in Philly, had got called to an impromptu meeting in NY that day in the world trade center. They hadn't heard from him.

I grew up that day. Maybe not a lot but I grew up faster on that day than any other day since. When I got home my mom asked that we leave the TV off. She told me that the news was showing things that she didn't want the other kids to see. I went upstairs and turned on the TV in her room. I saw videos of men and women jumping out of the higher floors. People running as the buildings collapsed. I heard my mom telling me of our neighbor and friend, Dr Gokcen, going to NY to help those who had been wounded. I heard my Sunday school teacher was suppose to be in the city but God wanted him to bake muffins, causing him to miss his train to the city and waiting for the second train that never came. I heard that our township firefighters and policemen were going to help. A four hour drive but the much needed support was vital.

I witnessed our president declare war. Stand up and say we will not let this pass. I saw school buses with tiny arms waving flags out of windows. Songs were written that only barely scratched the surface of emotions of that day. People came together and for a brief time we were not republican, democrat, black, white, rich, poor, man, or woman. We were Americans. And every year we put aside those dividers and remember those that were cruelly taken from this earth early, those that risked their life to assist those that couldn't make it on their own out of the tower, the passengers who knew that death was a certainty but had the fortitude to ensure that no more lives were taken, the brave men that ran into a burning building to help where ever they could, and those strong men who held out hope combing through the wreckage for one more survivor. Seeing things that should never be seen and yet preserving onward.

We will never forget. I will never forget.

Willfully Disobedient

I went to get dinner tonight with a coworker at a local fast food mexican restaurant next to our hotel. The lady in front of us in line ordered and I noticed that she had some problems manuevering because she was using a walker. Thinking nothing much of it we ordered our food and went to go get our drinks. On our way to our table, her number was called. We had stopped to check to see if it was ours and my coworker helped her take the food to the table. She gave us her thanks saying "I don't know how to get around quite yet. My husband use to help me and he died this week."

Our number was called and we got our food. I heard God clearly say "Go sit with her. You hate eating alone when you are traveling, imagine how she feels, she lost her husband". My coworker was already sitting at another table and I didn't know how to gracefully tell him that I was going to be eating with a strange old lady that I had never met. In addition, to walk up to someone and start talking to them or even scarier ask to sit with them and eat is WAY outside my comfort zone. I sat down with my back to her. I kept on telling myself after we are done I will talk to her. God kept on pushing thoughts into my head. The stories that I could hear. The comfort I could give her. I glanced back at her once or twice, thinking I would go over once we were done eating. Or once my coworker was done eating. Feeling ashamed I turned around to finally talk to her but God had provided a more willing servant already. Someone to comfot a woman who was now sobbing quietly. I overheard her tell the woman that she had come her quite often with her husband, she couldn't count the number of times that she had been in that restaurant at that same exact table with him. That she didn't know how she was going to cope without him.

I can not even describe my sorrow at this. I had let a woman who is greiving and eating alone, the one thing I HATE to do by myself, be without comfort. How hard would it have been to say "That woman just lost her husband, I am going to eat with her."? God is merciful and loving and gave her a willing ear to listen to her. I can only cry and pray for forgiveness for not going to one of his children when there was a need. I only wish I can apologize to that woman.

Matthew 25:36 I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.

I am sorry I didn't comfort you. I am so sorry.

The Teachers of WCCS

From pre-K through 8th grade I went to school at Washington Crossing Christian School, WCCS to us attendees. My time there was heavily influenced by the teachers. I can truly say that the teachers and administration of that school shaped who I am today.

I can remember every teacher I have had there.

1st - Mrs Brody

2nd - Mrs Bell

4th -Mrs Hoffstetter

6th, 7th and 8th - Mr Hall, Pastor Dave, Mrs Walsh and Mrs. Norton (nee Caywood)

My 6th - 8th teachers really showed me what school was all about. What I could be learning. And the first to show me that the amount of effort I put into something reflected the grade I would get. The first and last failing grade I ever got was in Mr Hall's class. I did a "report" and "presentation" on football. I got a 47, I think. End of the semester I had a D. And I caught hell for it. I never got a D again (although C's somewhat peppered my college transcripts) Miss Caywood taught me the value of critical thinking in reading. (although I can't do it... I know the value)

I can also go into the auxilary teachers (such as the awesome Mr Dancha our gym teacher) but the list would be really long.

You might be wondering why I left out my 3rd and 5th  grade teachers. I haven't forgotten them. Quite the opposite. These teachers had the most impact.

My fifth grade teacher was Mrs Steele... well  technically she was my Kindergarten, fifth, AND sixth grade teacher. (maybe even pre-k but my memory, as mentioned in this post, is really bad... I would have to confirm with my mom or Mrs Steele).  Mrs Steele is the first teacher I remember having at WCCS. I can't remember much from that year except that a) we hatched chickens in which we got to keep one and subsequently had a violent and gruesome death (more on that later) and  b) Mrs Steele's name changed and I thought it was mean to make my teacher change her name from whatever it was then to something that meant she took something without asking (I didn't realize that it also was a material to build bridges and buildings and the like).

Mrs Steele wanted every single one of her students to succeed, not only in school but in other areas as well. I could walk into her classroom at any point during a lunch or recess break and talk to her about whatever was bothering me. She would also give you third chances at tests. No really! I got three chances on my section on grammar. I got a 60 on the first one, a 65 on the third one, and a 59 on the third. Sadly, it was not lack of trying on my part or an ineptness on her part, just my brains inability to identify different parts of a sentence. Even to this day, unless those parts of a sentence are ask for in madlibs, I have no idea what it is.

She also got to know each of her students as a person. She made it clear that they were valued for just who and what they were. One of my favorite stories of Mrs Steele is related to Katie. Katie was notoriously messy growing up. Each day when she went to Kindergarten she would go clean and unblemished. As she was leaving each day Mrs. Steele would smile and count the number of spots of food, paint, and dirt that now colored my sister's outfit. She could find the good in any kid. 

My Third grade teacher was Mrs Brown. Mrs Brown is one of the best teachers I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. She made learning fun. She was my Miss Frizzle.

If you have never seen the magic school bus

well then you need to

Mrs Brown's third grade started off with giving the parents a list of reports that will be due during the school year and projects that needed to be completed. For a girl who procrastinates until the very last minute to tell her family about a MAJOR project this sheet was VITAL... too bad it got lost 2 weeks into the school year. This was the first year that we would be doing "real" school work. We were done with baby school and would be doing cool things like writing papers.

Everyone could not WAIT to get into Mrs Browns third grade class. We had heritage day, where everyone (but me) did research on their family's history and would bring in food and decorations that represented the family's ancestry. The whole school was invited to come in and view our exhibits and presentations. One year someone had a full cooked fish, head and everything. I was in second grade that year and one of the kids in the class decided that taking a dare to eat the eye balls would be fun. We had some minor regurgitation.

The thing is, I didn't tell my mom until the night before that we needed to do this project. I ended up bringing in black eye peas, corn bread, and fried okra and tried to pass of my heritage as "Southern". I got an S- (less than satisfactory) on that project. Katie made up for it in three years though. Never one to go half way on a project, she RESEARCHED our family and went in with full food and decorations. I am sure we have pictures of it somewhere.

I remember doing research (aka going to the library and looking up one entry in the encyclopedia.... the thing that came before wikipedia) and my parents helping me finalize everything. As much as it was encouraged for us to do our own work, Mrs Brown let the parents help and the Good Lord knows how much I needed my parents help to do the work (like I said, pathological procrastinator). One of my favorite "research papers" ever was the first time we had to have a Bibliography and I had two - count em 1...2... - articles from the Encyclopedia Britanica and World Book encyclopedia from 1802 that we had in the basement. My dad drew the cover of the "report" (it was on Jack Rabbits) and I remember thinking that he had to be the best artist ever and couldn't understand why he wasn't a painter or something.

Not to give you the impression that Mrs Brown was a softie. Quite the opposite. That woman had rules and if you broke them, well you were inside for a recess writing a note of apology or and explanation of why you were wrong. I had three or four of these. Pretty average for the normal third grader. Katie had more than 20. Never one to be bound by the rules but also with a large conscience, Katie would break the rules then regretfully inform Mrs Brown of the infraction. Mrs Brown saved all of these and gave them to her students upon the student graduating 8th grade from WCCS. Mine consisted of things like "I am sorry I forgot to tell my parents about my homework and instead tried to do it during math. I promise to let my mom and dad know about each homework I have". Katie's consisted of "I am sorry I looked at Savannah's spelling test. I really just wanted to make sure she was doing alright. I know that this could look like cheating but I didn't change any of my answers even though I saw I got one wrong. I am sorry I won't do it again".

Mrs Brown is the only teacher that each one of the Baker children had. By the time John got to Mrs Brown's class my parents joked that they were old hats at it and could get straight Os (WCCS version of an A - O = outstanding). 

I am sure that many people remember their early teachers fondly. Maybe that is because no one fails an 8 year old or there wasn't any real work to be done (unless you are Kristen and Spelling... Kristen and Spelling are mortal enemies). But the teachers that were hired at WCCS were truly exceptional and I feel blessed that I got to be their student.

My dream church

I want to go to church with the people who have tattoos. I want to go to church with people who have gauged ears, nose rings, lip rings, and wear chains. I want to go to a church with ex-cons, current cons, and future cons.

I want to go to church with people who fake tan, get their nails done, and color the crap out of their hair. I want to go to church with bikers and those immersed in the drug world. I want to go to church with Catholics, baptists, presbyterian, lutherans, mormons, ex wiccans, wiccans, buddhists, hindus, Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster (in laymans terms Pastafarians), agnostics, atheists, and those that just needed somewhere warm to sit for an hour.

I want to go to a church with Soccer moms, stay at home dads, work-a-holics, alcoholics, drug addicts and prostitutes. I want to go to church with families that have a mom, dad, 2 and a half kids and a dog. I want to go to church with single moms, single dads, baby mommas, and baby daddys.

I want to go to a church where people struggle. Where everyone knows that everyone struggles. I want to go to a church that people say Hi to new people who come through the door and then get their life story. I want to go to church with Republicans, Democrats, Green Party, Torys, people who don't care about politics, and people who care waaaaayyy to much.

I want to go to a church where people don't leave after sermon, they ask how people are doing and get support for their own problems. I want to go to church with anorexics, bulemics, over eaters, under eaters, health nuts, gym nazis, vegetarians, carnivores, omnivores, vegans, and gluten frees.

I want to go to church with homosexuals, bi-sexuals, asexuals, sex addicts, transgendered, hermaphrodites, and those that just don't know who or what they are. I want to go to church with people in their 20s who want to change the world. Those in their 30s, 40s, and 50s who are changing the world. Those in the 60s+ who have stories and lessons to be shared about how they did change the world.

I want to go to a church with people filled with joy, despair, happiness, generosity, charity, grace, anger, peace, frustration, hurt, sarcasm, hate, hope, and maybe someone with all of those at once. I want to go to church with people who are rich, poor, just making do, on food stamps, work 3 jobs to pay rent, and those that are living off inheritance.

My dream church has pastors that share their real life struggles. Tells the hard truth about life, love, marriage, job hunting, money, and being a christian and what it means  - all without using vague euphemisms.

I want a church that scares the world, gives hope to the world, and comforts the world.

I want to worship next to the broken and sing praises with the redeemed.

I want to go to church with me.

My dream church leaves all the doors wide open. Does not support causes but supports people. Stands in the face of adversity, not with demonstrations but with compassion. But most of all my church LOVES UNCONDITIONALLY.

The Beauty of the Barrenness

This week I started work that is in the middle of no where California. It is smaller than my grandparents' town of Elberton, GA. There is a walmart, a couple of chain fast food stores, and manufacturing businesses. It is also in the Desert in the San Jacinto Mountain region.

As an east coaster I am a firm believer of green landscapes and the four seasons. This place has one season - Summer. It is also as brown as can be. Unless you are in a neighborhood where they water their lawns every 2 hours to keep the grass alive. To be honest the grass looks and feels out of place. It feels spongy and when the rest of the environment is about the strongest of the scraggily trees and bushes the nicely trimmed deep green lawns seem out of place. There is a wildness about the scenery that makes me dream of gold rushes, cowboys, indians, and a fight for survival.

The neighborhoods here all have a fence around them. On one side of the fence is lush green and perfectly tended. The other is rough, untamed, bursting with sienna, coppers, and brown colors. I can not understaning living in full view of the untamed desert west and trying to force green into it.  I love driving the 30 minutes from Temecula (the forgotten younger brother of Napa) and it's tamed suburban feel to the openess of Hemet, CA. The mountains are begging to be hiked.

Anyone want to come visit me? Let's go exploring. I'll be Lewis, you be Clark.

Anticipation

I go alot of places and do a lot of things. I travel almost constantly and I have pushed myself to where I can do activities by myself. My life is very very full and yet, I am waiting. Not waiting patiently. O good grief no. I am waiting like a little kid the night before christmas. I am all wound up. The thing is... I really don't know what I am waiting for. I am waiting eagerly.  I just know that something is coming and I can't wait to experience it.

Maybe I just enjoy life

One down - 3 to go!

I JUST PAID OFF ONE OF MY STUDENT LOANS!!!

Every paycheck I have gotten for the past three years has had $50 taken out of it and used in an Employee Stock Purchasing Plan (or an ESPP). Once I started the Total Money Makeover (TMMO), I stopped contributing to that plan and decided to sell what stock I could (you have to hold it for 60ish days in my company before you can sell stock that you purchased) and use that to pay some of my student debt. I was planning on doing that in April 2013 anyway because I would have had enough in the account to pay of my largest student loan.

I guess I should explain something about why I was putting the money into an ESPP instead of paying directly against the principal. A) AES SUCKS... that is American Education Services. If you are thinking about getting a loan through them... just don't. When I first graduated college and was working at Applebees I wanted to pay down the principal of my loan therefore reducing the time it would take for me to pay off the loan AND reduce the amount of interest (aka extra money) that I would be paying them over the life of the loans. This is was a LOOONG  drawn out conversation with them with people who didn't understand loans or lending. One lady even said that I couldn't pay against the principal. Ummmmm no. It's law that I can and it would be stupid to say that I can't anyway. You are getting your money back FASTER!! Finally after multiple phone calls over a two month period I gave up and decided just to save it up and pay a loan all at once.

Worst company ever!!! Except for comcast

Which brings me to B) I get 15% extra from my company to buy my company's stock. So say I want to put in $100 to buy some stock. Technically they give me a discount and make the stock worth 15% less but in reality I am still wanting to buy $100 of my stock so they throw an extra $15 on there and I end up owning $115 worth of TE stock. So the extra 15% is greater than my interest rate on the loans but in the end it probably all evens out because of stock market fluctuations.

Under the TMMO, it is suggested that you pay off the smallest loans first that way you see results faster. Then you take the amount you were putting towards that loan (both the minimum and whatever else you were paying) and put it towards the next biggest loan. Then when that loan is paid off you put whatever you were paying to the two smallest loans to the next smallest and so on and so forth.

Anyway I sold my ESPP shares and got back a HUGE check (at least, huge by my standards). I paid of the second smallest student loan because it had the higher interest rate. And put almost a third of the check into savings to go towards paying off the smallest loan. I am hoping that with the money I have already saved up, the portion of the ESPP I have saved, along with future savings I will be able to pay off the second smallest loan in about 3 months :D. And that isn't even considering the money I save on groceries and gas when I am on audit. :D

ONE DOWN THREE MORE LEFT TO GO!!!!

Neverland

My best friend and I are watching Hook on a very relaxing Sunday afternoon (during which I should be studying... only 10 more minutes I promise). When I was growing up my sister LOVED Peter Pan and I think that of all of us Baker kids she was the one who understood the beauty behind Neverland. The ability to never grow up.

I never wanted to be Peter Pan. Katie did. She loved the idea of flying and having adventures. Swimming with mermaids and fighting Pirates. I was content with being a lost boy or, even better, Tiger Lily (never Wendy or Tink, Wendy seemed too whiney and Tink was a bit of a b-*-t-c-h). Now as I watch Hook I see even more clearly how anxious I am to grow up.

My family has an unusual ability to remain young. Not young physically but in the heart. What comes easily to my family, I sometimes need to work harder at. Ever since I have been young I could not WAIT to grow up.  I wanted to go to high school and when I was in high school I couldn't wait until College and in College I dreamed of settling down with the right guy and having a couple of kids.

In watching Hook I have the desire to fly to the second star to the right, continue on til morning, and see what adventures I could have. I think that my desire to remain young has transferred itself. Since I can't go to Neverland, I go to Barcelona, London, and Argentina. But I do grow up, or at least old. Hopefully I can embrace my dad's motto. No, not "Ask for forgiveness not for permission" but "They can make me grow old, but they can't make me grow up".

Who wants to go play kick the can?

"To live... to live is an awfully big great adventure"

What do you do with leftover memories?

I am a bit of a memory hoarder. No, it’s true! My actual memory sort of epically sucks and usually if I have a picture or a memento from something that happened I can remember it better. My roommates, Caitlin and Dana, were laughing at a shared memory that, apparently, I should have been able to laugh with as well because I was there. I asked if there were any Facebook pictures of the get together. Caitlin said there wasn’t. My quick reply was “No Picture, No Memory”.

Every year throughout college and high school I had a box for each of the 4 years I went to Villa and PSU. In these boxes I would put things that I wanted to keep to remember that moment. This made it really easy for my Mom, Katie, Kristen, and John to put together my scrapbook when I graduated from High school because I had all these pictures and memories in boxes under my bed.

Every so often I go through the boxes. Sometimes I remember what the memento stood for, other times I don’t. Sometimes it’s easy to understand – like the program from the high school plays I was in. And sometimes I have no clue what is associated with – like the stuffed Woodstock bird from Peanuts. I have no clue what memory is associated with him (usually meaning I have lost that memory for all time). When this happens I just throw out the item (or in the case of Woodstock give it away to the Salvation Army) and when I can – I consolidate those boxes.

Facebook makes it easier for me to remember things. Everyone has pictures from everything and mostly it is in chronological order.

But what do you do about the things that you don’t know if you want to keep?

I use to have a box of stuff from Jason, my freshman year boyfriend. It had a weird smelling candle, a hedgehog stuff toy thing, and some letters/birthday cards he had written me or conversations we had over AIM. After sophomore year that box found its way under my bed at home and didn’t resurface until I moved out to Manayunk for the first time where it was placed at the top of my closet shelf with my other memory boxes. I didn’t actually go through it until I was moving out of my apartment in Harrisburg, a year and a half after its rediscovery. Going through the box brought back some great memories but also some old pain. I threw out most of the stuff and kept a few things like the candle. (You never know when the power is going to go out).

I didn’t know then, and I still don’t know now, what to keep and throw away from these relationship boxes (good grief it sounds like I am back in 4^th grade when I had box of stuff that reminded me of my crush). I just made an educated guess as to what I would want and what I wouldn’t. But to be honest, this is the first time I have thought about that box since I threw it out. Does it mean that I shouldn’t have kept anything from it? I can’t even tell you where some of the things I kept are. Maybe in the attic with all the books and stuff I kept from College or maybe in the college memory box in my closet.

Now I am in the problem of going through the “box” from my last relationship. Work is switching out my old Dell and giving me a new Lenovo. On my work computer is some personal folders that I need to move to my computer at home. One of these files is of my last relationship. A poem, photos, and saved text messages. It's been long enough that we are both over the relationship and remained good friends but honestly I don’t know what to do with the folder. What do I keep? What do I put in the recycle bin? How do you decide which memories to keep and which to let go of?

What are your thoughts? Did you have a “box” of old relationships? Did you keep it or throw it away?

Total Money Makeover

Matthew 25:20-21

The man who had received five bags of gold brought the other five. ‘Master,’ he said, ‘you entrusted me with five bags of gold. See, I have gained five more.’ His master replied, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!’

I can not tell you the number of times I have heard about the parable of the master who entrusts his servants with coins before going on a journey. Upon his return the servant he has given 5 coins has earned 5 more. The one with 2 coins has earned 2 more. The one with 1 coin had hidden it and only had the initial coin to give back to the master. The master is well pleased with the first two servants and throws out the last one from his household. This is used as an example of using wisely what God has blessed us with.

I have been extremely blessed. I went to an excellent university that despite all the bad press is still well regarded for it's academics, I graduated with just over $15,000 in student loans (cheap in this day and age) thanks to my parents commitment to give their children good educations. God  blessed me with an amazing job during our "great depression". I was able to live at home for a year after college allowing me to put 20% into my 401k during the 6 month period I lived at home and worked at Tyco Electronics.

Upon moving out of my childhood home God has blessed me with great apartments and experiences. I have come to fully rely on him for everything that I need. Once I learned to trust him to provide for me, now it was time to learn how to manage it. Unfortunately it has taken me a year to realize this was the lesson I was suppose to be learning.

Even through all of the amazing blessings I have had I absolutely STINK at managing money. I start saving and that would work until my brakes needed to be replaced. Or a windshield. Or pay for CPA prep classes and Exams. Often I would think that I had plenty of money in my checking account and decide to treat myself to one thing or another not realizing that the student loan or the car insurance would be automatically deducted from my account in the next couple of days. Frequently in the last couple of days before the new paycheck would come I would have to transfer money from my savings back into my checkings. And that is if I caught it. If I didn't catch that I was low, PNC automatically pulls money from my savings to my checkings for a nice tidy fee of $10. I can say that PNC has made a lot of money off of me the past year and a half or so.

I just wasn't getting the message. Even the months that I was traveling for work and I didn't have to buy gas or food I would overspend on Souvenirs or Tours in a new place rationalizing that I didn't have to pay to get there or stay there. If I was to do it again it would be more expensive so I better spend the money on it now. God decided it was time to throw the book at me...

Literally

For the past couple of years I have heard my mom talk about Dave Ramsey. Since she has moved to NC she has mentioned him more often. I would have to say that she has a financial crush on him. :) She recently has read his book The Total Money Makeover and has suggested I read it. I didn't really want to. I mean yeah I was getting a ton of fees from PNC and my money moved from account to account faster than laundered money from the mob but I wasn't struggling. I was paying all my bills and investing in my 401k and Employee Stock Plan. Although I was bit high on the balance for my credit card but definitely no where near the credit debt that many students have coming out of college. I had Mint.com to categorize my expenses for me. If I was curious about where my money had gone I could just log in and check. I didn't need money advice.

My Mom's financial crush

For my birthday my Mema had given me a giftcard to Barnes and Noble (that place is like my crack and she is just enabling me). I couldn't find any books that I was interested in, which was rare. I normally walk in saying "one book... just one book" and walk out with 3... or 5. So on impulse I buy Dave Ramsey's Total Money Makeover. Honestly I expected some get rich quick ideas and investment advice that was hard to follow. That is not what I read at all. What he said was simple but he said it was going to be hard.

First thing to do - make a budget. Sure - been there done that. But this time I did it differently. I started by planning out what I was going to spend monthly, but also setting up another tab to track what I was going to have to spend my money on for that pay period. This way I could know when I was going to be hit and how much I did have left over after all the "regulars".

Next is to put $1,000 in a savings account (preferably a money market fund) to have ONLY for emergencies. Ok I had some already in a savings account. I switched $1000 to a money market fund.

I couldn't see what was going to be so hard about this total money makeover (I was reading the next step only when I completed the step I was on)

Then comes the hard part. For my age he suggests stop contributing to my 401k (except for the % that my company would match). WHAT?!?! He said to use that money and any extra cash flow to pay off my student debt and credit cards. He despises credit because it is essentially going into debt each month even if you pay it off. I couldn't believe it. That went against everything I had been taught. I was always told to contribute to a 401K cause even 5 exta years of just a little bit would add up in the end. Not to mention that credit cards are so easy to use! But then he quoted Proverbs 22:7

"The rich rule over the poor, and the borrower is servant to the lender."

That stuck a chord. About 3 years ago I tried to pay over my minimum amount to my student loan company but they just took it as a "prepayment" on future bills and did not apply it to the principal. THAT IS THE STUPIDEST THING I HAVE EVER HEARD! I fought with them for maybe 3 months to be able to permanently have that removed so I could pay against the principal. Never worked. Now they hate me and I hate them but I still have to deal with them every month for the next 10 years. Oh and they get around $60 of my money each month in interest. Great I am paying them to basically be jerks.

I am on track to pay off my credit cards in 2 months and my student loans hopefully within a year. Then I can start saving for a down payment on a house as well as a fairly new used car. There is more to his baby steps to a financial makeover but I will let you buy a copy (or borrow my own) to decide if it is something for you.

I am just glad that I am finally taking steps to control my money instead of the other way around.

Land of the Brave has become Land of the Pretty

Any person living in America is under pressure to look a certain way. Men are expected to be tall, buff, and absurdly good looking. Women are suppose to have large breasts, perfect hair/skin/makeup, and skinny. The list of things that our society considers "ugly" is growing faster than what we consider to be beautiful and now we have crossed into the ridiculous. The other week on TV I saw a commercial aimed at women that demonstrated how their new cream would reduce the appearance of UNDERARM DARK SPOTS!! Normally most beauty items make some sense to me. Dark circles under the eye, dark body hair on women, graying hair, etc etc but this one blew me away about how unnecessary it was.

Under no circumstances do I consider the dark spots in my underarms to be ugly. I don't think they are beautiful either. They are just a part of me. I will be the first to admit that I, like many people in America, try to achieve the ideal perfect body. I just started Turbofire by beachbody to help me live healthier and lose weight. I dye my hair. I wear makeup. Heck, I even wear painfully high heels. But I draw the line at what I consider to be absolutely trivial. If someone is looking so closely at my underarms and what spots might be on it, then honestly they can look away and come to whatever conclusion they want. I am not going to give them any further thought after this blog post.

I once heard that a dying society focuses on Beauty of the people within it. I don't know if I believe that but when I see Kim Kardashian getting more attention because she is considered beautiful (when in fact she has a fabulous makeup artist) than those who are actually making a difference like Teachers or Scientists or Humanitarians that is when I start to understand where that person coming from. When we focus of the impermanence of beauty that will fade without the skill of a surgeon instead of lauding those who toil to make contributions that will last longer than their time on earth, how can we be considered the greatest nation on the earth? And the big question to myself, how can I start valuing the real things in life instead of what society tells me to?