I know this post is probably opening a can of worms.  I may even make some people angry,  I may even upset a friend or two or twenty, or cause people to comment and fling insults at me about my lack of knowledge on how government systems work.   Darn straight! They would be right!  I don’t know it all.  I don’t know enough.  I witness much and it makes me sad.  Be gentle, I am just venting.

A good friend was telling me the other day that statistics show that a minimum wage earning family has more “expendable income” than your average middle class family of 4 earning $60,000 a year.

Here are a couple links to stories discussing this:

http://www.zerohedge.com/article/entitlement-america-head-household-making-minimum-wage-has-more-disposable-income-family-mak

http://www.cynicaltimes.org/articles/failing-middle-class-nears-poverty-line

Years ago, I would have been surprised by that but now now. Being a member of the middle class, and having had to help others seek public assistance…I was not.  I regularly speak to “middle class” families who live paycheck to paycheck that have had some situation (illness, injury, divorce, unforeseen repair, utility increase, inflation, etc…) that has thrown a wrench in their budget and because they “make too much money” there are no government agencies that can/will help them.

I could give a whole list of the things that our family personally does not have or do because we try to stick to a strict budget…but really that is none of anyone’s business.

I will say this though, there are opportunities given to and luxuries enjoyed by people that “qualify” for government assistance and scholarships based on their income that can sometimes frustrate me. Especially when there is a sense of entitlement that accompanies the receiving of these gifts.  Is this some sort of jealousy?  Maybe.  We work very hard for what we have and we have a good chunk of change coming out of our paychecks that go toward taxes.  Guess what pays for those government programs?

When I think hard about it, I guess what frustrates me is that we have these great programs and some people who qualify for them use them as a permanent solution rather than a temporary means to an end and then teach that same mentality to their children. There is no foreseeable consequence for it.  No reason to change the trajectory.  Just continue teaching their children which systems and programs to rely on rather than instilling a good work ethic.

Generational poverty.

The latest headlines regarding banning junk food from being paid for with food stamps, drug testing people who receive welfare, and illegal immigrants receiving government assistance have caught my attention.

I struggle with the fact that I struggle with it.  I feel that it is being judgmental and I don’t want to be judgmental!  I want a solution!(Don’t we all?)

I have occasionally thought that maybe, just maybe there could be a tiered assistance program.  One for those who need the assistance long term to survive with a strict structure to pull them up above the line.  I mean, for instance if there were standards stating that if you receive this type of assistance which includes higher education for your children then there is the expectation that the generation of children whose parents benefited will not be allowed to receive those benefits as adults from the same program.  I know, “But Dawn, how will they survive as adults if they choose NOT to participate in the education provided – well, how about WITH THEIR PARENTS – the ones who instilled in them how to survive in the world.  I have the history from both of my parents who were each 1 of 11 children who tell tales of very small homes and sharing beds and floor space and hunger that to this day is a deep seeded fear that causes my mom to feel she needs to go shopping if she has ANY shelf space in her cupboards.  Let me tell you, that taught them to WORK, and not have more children they could not afford.

There should be a middle class tier/fund for those who need occasional assistance who live beyond the parameters of the “poverty line” or live below it but somehow find a way to not receive government assistance (Because I know there are families out there doing that!) – a system of support for keeping the middle class alive.   With structure as well, maybe a max limit per year or maybe limiting how often the fund can be accessed (once or twice a year but not exceeding X dollars and by the way, what luxury are you still living with?).  I know, I know – how will it be funded and staffed and monitored?  I have not thought that far but if you are limiting assistance to a specific generation odds are that might free up some funds right?

I may very well be wrong.  Seriously.   I am kind of nervous about posting this – but I am going to anyway.

I don’t HAVE the answers.  I have a lot of questions.  I have a great deal of frustration, but not with the people receiving the assistance.  There but for the Grace of God go I. It is with the system by which it is given.

An email to me today contained this sentence:

“my husband has left and I am finding out more and more about lots of cheating.”

I hear this or derivatives of this on a regular basis.  We even see it on Facebook.  We invite pain into our lives by seeking unnecessary input from others or looking in places that we KNOW contain it.

What is it about human beings that causes so many of us to be our own worst enemies? What causes us to seek out things that we know will make our hearts ache?  Why do we latch on to the hurtful words and forget about all the positive ones?

When will we be able to look beyond the pain.  Acknowledge that it is there, but leave it there.  Don’t add to it by seeking it out or accepting more.

Can we try to look BEYOND the pain to what will be next?

“The person or event that originally perpetrated our trauma isn’t responsible for perpetuating it…it is your own inner voice that is keeping you in a state of permatrauma”

~Alicia Salzer, M.D.  – Back to Life: Getting Past Your Past with Resilience, Strength, and Optimism

 

“It’s called living.”

This is the phrase I have said a few times when people have made comments about my schedule over the past few months. From an outsider’s perspective I guess I must look very busy. In reality …to me, I am just doing those things that need to be done. I work caring for people, not in the medical field or anything that would allow me to put a string of initials at the end of my name, but at the end of the day I have made an effort to show people that someone cares about them. I do this as much for me as I do it for them but ultimately I do it for God. He gave me a great Gift many years ago and I know that I do not have to do ANYTHING and that Gift is still mine and I cherish It. I am not trying to earn It because I know that I can’t. I simply want to show Him that I am grateful and trying to live my life as an expression of gratitude for that Gift. Loving God is my top priority. Learning how to do that is an unending 101 course.

However, there are times that I can overextend myself. We all can. Looking back over the past several weeks I realize that if I looked at what I have been doing I would think me crazy. Part of my life is being a wife; this is a GREAT part that I don’t spend enough time enjoying. It is always the stuff you enjoy doing that seems to get pushed aside…actually, that might just be me. Part of my life is being a mom and that responsibility is awesome and tiring at the same time, there is something about this part of my life that scares me. A horrible fear of failure and yet, I realize that there is no real way to guarantee success. No matter what I do, the children I raise are going to succeed or fail on their own terms in their own time. I may try too hard to plant seeds. I may have started planting seeds later than I should have. I was never good with plants. I have a black thumb and I don’t know ANYTHING about plants and so maybe I should not compare wisdom and values to seeds and my children. Parenting is hard.

Part of my life is …everything else and that is where all the BUSY seem to enter.

I think I am finally to the point of this post. I woke up today at 7:45am (I slept in!) and took a bath while reading a book. Then while Dave still slept and the house was quiet, I made a cup of coffee and sat on the front porch and read some more. The neighborhood was quiet for a change these days. (Everyone else was REALLY sleeping in) and my mind wandered in and out of the book between its pages and those of my own life the last few weeks and I realized that I was sad.

I lost my dog a couple weeks ago, and yesterday the vet sent us a sympathy card and I was okay reading the cover but when I opened it and saw the signature of EVERY staff member and doctor it brought forth tears… that I immediately stuffed down. I turned 40 this year and when my husband threw a surprise party for me (2 days after we had to put the dog down) and when everyone yelled “SURPRISE!” I really was and I turned into his chest because I started to cry (I don’t know why – yet) I stuffed those tears down really fast as well. Then while enjoying a couple days away camping I found some peace being away from these walls of our home and it was interrupted by tragedy. My oldest child’s father was likely dying, and eventually did. I don’t feel loss over this so much as just sadness. He was young and his life could have been MORE. My daughter deserved for him to be there longer, but then I think that my children deserve a lot of things that maybe just aren’t realistic. “It’s called living.”

Moments ago, my neighborhood woke up and the cars with the loud music started passing by and interrupted my self-realization time and I did not want to forget this moment: A moment when I appreciated the fact that my husband was sleeping and adorable in bed and my children were safe and happy with their friends and I had time alone with my thoughts.

Yesterday was kind of rough for me. For my husband. My family. I spent a good deal of time regretting my choice to wear mascara that morning. Some people will find this silly, and I understand that. Others of you will completely get it, and I appreciate that as well.

Our Scarlet, may not be with us much longer.

So dramatic right?

Whatever, I am venting. And sharing pictures of x-rays …which you can compare to here.

So, to rewind…read the above post link.

Now that you are up to speed…Scarlet typically favors that leg in the winter. Well, winter is pretty much over and the past few weeks she has still been favoring it and then this past week it has shown some pronounced swelling. Tuesday she started panting. So Dave and I decided it was time to make a call. Wednesday morning she started drooling so I made the appointment for that same morning. The panting and drooling…those combined (without any activity prior to them) are her “I’m in pain” signals. Dogs can’t talk, so you learn their queues right? Just me?

I did not want to hear what we were fearing. That all of those medical implants in her leg had failed. That surgery was required again – In Ft. Wayne – because we can’t afford it this time. Dave and I were pretty stressed about it. We love that darn dog. I once referred to the way she worships and loves us as the prime example of how God wants us to worship and love Him.

Anyway…the appointment was inconclusive without x-rays so I had to leave her with the vet for the day. During the torture (waiting 4+ hours to find out the results) Dave and I were talking about how we were actually praying for God to heal our dog. Never did that before. We laughed because it felt silly and like the right thing to do all at the same time.

Moving along, this is what they found (click to enlarge):

I know it makes no sense unless you were there for the explanation but that stuff that looks like it is exploding out from the bone is likely Osteosarcoma. (I wish I had not read what I just linked that too…it makes it seem like I have her for even less time than the 6 months to a year the vet projected!) We were given treatment options that would have to include amputation, and chemo in order to be successful. She is 8 1/2 years old. The amputation alone is beyond our budget. (Heck, yesterday’s vet visit wasn’t in the budget.) When she was 2 years old, the cost was a different story.

In the unlikely chance that we are looking at a bone infection rather than bone cancer, we were sent home with antibiotics and pain meds and raves from the people at the vet’s office about how good of a girl she is. I already knew that. Everyone who has met her knows that.

So, in the following weeks/months I will either be celebrating a miracle or grieving a loss but never regretting having her as part of family.

an exerpt:

So, how does any of this explanation of who Jesus is and what he’s doing connect with heaven, hell, and the fate of every single person who has ever lived?

First, we aren’t surprised when people stumble upon this mystery, whenever and however that happens. We aren’t offended when they don’t use the exact language we use, and we aren’t surprised when their encounters profoundly affect them, even if they happen way outside the walls of our particular Jesus’s gathering.

People come to Jesus in all sorts of ways.

Sometimes people bump into Jesus,
they trip on the the mystery,
they stumble past the word,
they drink from the rock,
without knowing what or who it was.
This happened in the Exodus,
and it happens today.
The last thing we should do is discourage or disregard an honest,
authentic encounter with the living Christ. He is the rock, and there is
water for the thirsty there, wherever there is.

We are not threatened by this,
surprised by this,
or offended by this.

Sometimes people use his name;
other times they don’t.

Some people have so much baggage with regard to the name “Jesus” that when they encounter the mystery present in all of creation –
grace, peace, love, acceptance, healing, forgiveness – the last thing
they are inclined to name it is “Jesus”

Second,

Love Wins by Rob Bell

I have, but then I thought…I would work through that one too.

I have been operating at mach speed since 2011 began.  Today, I have done NOTHING.

I am in a t-shirt and pajama pants and I have been in bed either catching up on shows that I enjoy (thank you internet people for Hulu) or reading….ah yes, blissful reading.  And nothing all educational or informative or growth inducing.  Fictional Smut.  Yes, the kind that you don’t need to think about.  Just a little world created by someone else in which I can escape to.  (A shout out to the girls in the Burg)

Unfortunately, at least ONCE today, I looked at my husband and told him that I felt like I was forgetting to do something.  We both came to the conclusion that because I have be idling high all year (and I know it is only March) that being in “park” feels wrong.  It might be akin to an addict just entering withdrawals.  Probably not, but ya’ll know what I am saying.

I feel like I should be doing something.

Sunday at 7:38pm and the most productive thing I have done today is floss.

Still, it should not be this way.  I should NOT feel like I should be doing something.

God rested on the seventh day.  Who am I to try to one up Him?