Violet Voices

On Halloween0 Comments. Be first!

by Meredith Efken

During my 32 years on this earth, I’ve gone through several philosophical phases in my relationship with this holiday.

Up until I was 8 or so, it was one of my favorite days of the year. Not particularly because of the candy, but because I got to dress up in my dance costume from the spring before. It didn’t matter how chilly it was, I put on my costume with its scratchy netting tutu and sparkly sequins. It was all my parents could do to convince me I could NOT wear my dance shoes and MUST wear a jacket!

My dad would take my brother and me around the neighborhood. I remembered the pleasant feel of his large, rough hand, warm around mine. How fun it was to walk around the neighborhood in the dark. The chill breeze felt mysterious, and the vivid imagination of the writer I would become came alive as we walked among the other shadowed, costumed figures.

As I grew older, my parents became more concerned with the theological and spiritual history of Halloween. As Christians, they worried about the roots of the holiday, as well as the loss of innocence as more and more children were poisoned or harmed by tampered treats. They chose to bring us to activities at our church instead. We still got to dress up, but the wild mystery was traded in for the bustle of a carnival-type atmosphere at church. It was fun, but not the same.

I absorbed a lot of the negative feelings toward Halloween as I progressed into young adulthood. I never particularly hated the day, but I did feel some amount of self-righteousness in the fact that our family no longer participated in such a “satanic” holiday.

When my husband and I became parents, we decided that we would not have our children participate in Halloween at all. There were a lot of reasons–some were the ones I had been taught about the evils of the day, but some were more practical. We couldn’t afford spending $30 or more on a child’s costume that she’d wear only once. We didn’t want our children exposed too early to the frightening images, and they certainly didn’t need all that candy! Plus, it’s hard to know whose houses are trustworthy these days.

Now, I’ve relaxed a lot about the spiritual side of the holiday. The ancient roots of this day are not so much more evil than the pagan roots of Christmas or Easter, and we celebrate those holidays without hesitation. And even our concept of witches and ghosts are the stuff of fantasy and myth, not reality. So that doesn’t bother me.

The reason I now do not have our children participate in Halloween is because it’s become so much more gory and violent than when I was a child. The wild mystery has been traded in for horror and it seems the more revolting a costume, the better it is. These are not the images I want my children subjected to, especially the younger one who has an imagination as vivid as my own.

I feel sorry for what they miss out on–the chance to dress up and prowl around the neighborhood in the dark, visiting their neighbors when they’d normally be getting ready for bed. But as I see more “trunk or treat” events, church parties, and even trick or treating at the mall, it seems that the majority of parents are moving toward these safer venues. I think the days of neighborhood trick-or-treat may be almost at an end. It’s sad, really.

However, we have found a fun way to spend our Halloween evenings in recent years. Our church, the Omaha Vineyard, has a party at the home of one of our members. They have an acreage and a bonfire pit. We roast hot dogs, and have a jumping house for the kids, and even a hayrack ride. Some of the kids dress up in costumes, but a lot don’t.

Then, when it’s dark, and when we’re all full of hot dogs and sticky from roasted marshmallows and s’mores, we all gather around the bonfire for a story from another church member. He’s a master storyteller, and every year he delights us with a new yarn. As I sit by the fire, watching the flames dimly illuminate our friends’ faces, I feel the chill breeze mingling with the fire’s heat. It brings back memories of dark, mysterious nights walking the neighborhood clinging to my daddy’s hand. My imagination ignites, like the logs shoved into the fire. I snuggle my girls closer, enjoying the feel of being warm in the midst of this chilly night.

I’m glad my children will get a taste of that after all. I’m glad that we haven’t had to completely strip the mystery from our children’s lives. I’m glad to have a way to celebrate the imagination and even the supernatural in a way that is not harmful to our children. I hope they’ll have special memories of that time as I do.

Happy Halloween, everyone! May it be a wildly beautiful, mysterious, and imaginative night for you all.

Written By: Meredith Efken
Posted under: On Being a Parent .  Email This Post

Real beauty5 Comments. Your turn!

by Vasthi Acosta

I know we are often judged by our outward appearance, to our own shame. Yes. I’m guilty of it too.

But for years I’ve told my daughter that the reason people call her beautiful was not because of her outside physical traits but because of her inside, her inner spirit. I tell her “the glow of your joyful, generous spirit shines and people see you as beautiful”.

I also stress that it is more important to me what she looks like on the inside (her spirit and soul) than what she looks like on the outside. Often, we would be approached and within her hearing, be told, “Wow — your daughter is stunning.” I’d always answer, “Yes. She’s wonderful inside too.”

It was my way of letting my daughter know that her heart was what counted. Who she became as a person. Her thoughts, emotions, beliefs, her essence was more important.

I felt as if I was fighting a losing battle, because everywhere she turned, my daughter would be blasted with the idea that her clothes, face, hair, height, weight, etc. was all that mattered when it came to beauty. I don’t have to tell you the messages young women receive regarding beauty today. You see the wrong message everywhere. Even to the point that the more emaciated you look, the better. (But that’s a topic for another day.)

So, it was surprising when I saw the Dove advertisements. Granted, I wasn’t thrilled with the naked women. But these were real women. They were shaped like my friends. They were the colors of my neighbors. Women I could relate to. Women who looked like me. I rejoiced!

And then it hit me. Why did I rejoice? Why such a big reaction to a simple advertisement? Did I feel affirmed? Why did it matter to me? Was I so hungry to find myself reflected in society, that a crumb like this ignited such a response? Or was it just the recognition of a comrade at arms?

I’m not sure yet. Still pondering.

But I know that the Bible says, true beauty “should not come from outward adornment. . . Instead it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight,” 1 Peter 3:3 & 4.

So, I’ll keep fighting the good fight. Reminding myself and my daughter what true beauty is, and someday she’ll teach her daughter. And bit by bit, maybe we can turn the tide.

Written By: Vasthi Acosta
Posted under: On Being a Parent, Women's Voices .  Email This Post

Birthdays, both human and book14 Comments. Your turn!

Today is my husband’s 34th birthday. That in itself makes it a special day. Every time I look at him, I can’t help but think, “How did I get so darn lucky as to be spending my life with such a guy?” He’s due home from work in about fifteen minutes, and I just can’t wait–even though I just saw him at lunch. (The girls and I took him to Don and Millie’s restaurant in honor of the day.) He’s truly a rare and beautiful treasure. And for all the girls that passed him over in college because they thought he was just a “nice guy” but nothing exciting, I have only one thing to say…

Neener neener neener!!! *thumbing my nose*

(Me and my sweetheart at a Denver B&B this summer for ICRS, dressed up to attend the Christy Awards.)

But this is also a special day for another reason–one year ago today, my first novel, SAHM I Am, was released. I remember specifically avoiding bookstores on this day–wanting desperately to see my book on the shelf and yet scared that it wouldn’t be there and I’d be disappointed.

And now this year, the sequel, @Home For The Holidays, is available, too. (I think the official release date was actually yesterday.)

It feels sort of like the difference between having the first child and then having the second one. Lots of angst and nail-biting and ecstacy and anticipation last year at this time. Lots of running to the bookstores (after I heard that yes, the book was ON the shelf) just to stand and grin at the little stack of MY books.

This year, it’s a little different. I’m still VERY excited, and I want everyone to check out @Home because it’s a terrific story. And I will still end up oogling the Christian fiction section of every bookstore I visit, just to see if it’s there. But I’m calmer this year. It’s a terrific book, but I also have more realistic expectations about it. It’s not likely going to take the literary world by storm or turn me into a celebrity. (Not that I expected the first book to do that exactly…but a girl fantazises, you know.)

But still, it’s MY “baby” and having two novels in print is no small thing. So please excuse me for my proud parent moment…I’m going to whip out the photos and show you my “kids.” I hope you will check them out!

Here’s my debut novel, on its first birthday:

Sahm I Am

Isn’t it CUTE???

And here’s my newborn novel, only about a day old. It’s a Christmas story about the same group of stay-at-home moms as my first novel. A comedy about motherhood, fatherhood, stay-at-home parents, and how we celebrate the holiday season. It also has story threads in it about international adoption, embryo adoption, and the “War on Christmas.” (Ooohh, that one was a LOT of fun!) Publisher’s Weekly said the satire of Rosalyn was “delicious”–high praise from that particular publication!

@Home For The Holidays

Happy Birthday, everyone! (And pick up a copy of my book!)

Written By: Meredith Efken
Posted under: International Adoption, On Being a Parent, Stay At Home Parents, Women's Voices .  Email This Post

The Boss is In4 Comments. Your turn!

by Cynthia 

Being a work-at-home mom sometimes has its disadvantages. When I tell people that I work from home they usually gush and say something along the lines of, “Girl, I wish I could do that — stay at home, work in my pajamas, be there for the kids…etc.” Naturally the next question they ask is who do I work for and how can they get started. I want to tell them that it’s just not that simple. I want to tell them about my months of sending out resumes online, my months of training to do transcription, my endless searches on the job boards. But I don’t think they really want to hear that. All they heard was that I get to stay home. If they could really see the flip side, they would see:

The mountain of laundry and dishes created when I’m under deadline. I get to see those and be reminded of those while I work. They call out to me from their corners of the house. “Here I am. Finish me. Just give me a few minutes of your time. You know I’m being neglected.” And I plug my earbuds in a little tighter so I can drown out the guilting they are dishing out.

Or what about the telephone that rings incessantly. Telemarketers. Surveyors. Hubby. And, gasp, other stay-at-homers. And of course everyone assumes that since you’re home, you’re available for whatever plans they might have for your time. “Your schedule is flexible. Can you just run to the post office, bank, heaven forbid — Wal-Mart?” “No…no…I want to scream. I have this deadline you see…” But they’re already giving you the particulars. And the truth of the matter is, they probably would never call you at a traditional job and ask these things. It’s as if because you’re at home you have no boss. And nothing could be farther from the truth.

In fact, since you’re home, you have yourself as boss. You must be demanding of your own time and deadlines. You must prioritize every waking moment–or you will learn the hard way that working with the television on puts you at least two hours behind, that Oprah is not conducive to productivity, and All My Children is basically the same storyline every five years repeated. “But Oprah motivates me,” my inner self whines. “No, what motivates you is that paycheck I get on a regular basis. Turn that t.v. off and get back to work,” I tell myself.

And that part about working in your pajamas, forget it. If you can get over the looks you get from UPS and FedEx, fine. But I’m one that won’t go to the door without a bra, and well, you might as well put one on when you get up, because the day you don’t get dressed is the day they arrive or you get called to school for a sick child, or a friend shows up wanting to take you to lunch. I could have killed my husband in cold blood the day he decided to schedule a repairman without telling me. You’re laughing, but you know, it happens.

So it’s not always a picnic in the park; the proverbially bed of roses indeed has its share of thorns. To all of you work-at-home moms out there — and maybe even dads — I applaud your efforts. I know how frustrated you are when it’s suppertime, homework time, family time, and you’re still sitting hunched over a computer keyboard trying to get that work out. I know how hard you work at balancing the delicate dance of deadlines and domestic duties. Yes, it’s rewarding to be there when the kids get home. Yes it’s nice not having to buy work clothes and lunches out or spend gas on commuting. These are our fringe benefits. It’s nice to have them, but what’s more important is that we love what we do. Like any job, that makes it all worthwhile. That, and the chance to stop and blog, take a coffee break, and go barefoot. Wink.

Have a great day!

Note from Meredith:  For more information and support for work-at-home parents, see the following links (Christian sites, but helpful and supportive regardless of your religious affiliation):

Christian Work At Home Moms

Christian Work At Home Dads

Written By: Cynthia
Posted under: On Being a Parent, Stay At Home Parents .  Email This Post

When Francine Came To Visit4 Comments. Your turn!

by Meredith (and Francine)

I’m sitting at my desk with a new friend I met today. Francine. She’s one of the gals in my neighborhood that I’ve written about before. And we’re having a sleep-over, as she’s in transition to a new, and hopefully more enjoyable life. I thought she should have a chance to tell HER story. So here she is…

I’m a mom with nine kids, ages 12-25. We used to live on an Indian reservation, out in the country. We had raccoons, deer, and eagles in our area. My kids loved playing outside.

My husband and I split up, and he took the kids, and I ended up in Omaha. I started hanging around some people that were into drugs and prostitution, and I guess I just ended up becoming like them. I’ve been on the streets the past two years. It’s scary. You don’t know who you can trust, but you have to take the chance anyway, just to have a place to sleep at night. I’ve spent nights in empty buildings, laundry rooms in apartment buildings, and at the houses of people I know–who usually want a part of me in exchange for a place to sleep.

I got tired of being this way. I want to change. I’ve been clean for five days now. It feels good. I’m not giving my self to anybody any more.

I need people to encourage me, not put me down. Every time I hear someone say something negative about me being this way, it makes me want to go back to the old way–the drugs, etc. I need people to see me as worth something.

My dream is to have my family back. I know it won’t happen right away. But that’s what I want.

I want that for Francine, too. Please pray for her, because she is my sister. She is every woman’s sister. She’s a mom, just like me, just like a lot of you. And she is so very, very valuable and precious.

Please pray for Francine. And please find ways to love her and others in similar situations. We’re all God’s children, and need His grace and protection.
Thanks.

Written By: Meredith Efken
Posted under: On Being a Parent, Women's Voices .  Email This Post

Nonny said “no”?2 Comments. Your turn!

by Barbara

I broke his little heart. That hated two-letter word – NO – helped me do it. Two-year-old Isaiah was crushed and let the world around him know it. Gramma had the audacity to look into his big blue eyes and say “No.” To him! How awful!

The grandchildren aren’t used to Gramma saying no. They hear it often enough from Aunties and Uncle and Mamas and Daddy. But, Gramma and Grandpa are the “Yes Parrots.” For the most part.

The older grands have the routine down pat. Each week one of them is treated as King (or Queen) for a Day. We pick them up, take them to the restaurant of their choice for lunch, and then take them with us as we shop for the week’s groceries. Once we have gone through all of the food aisles each child is permitted to go “to Toys” to pick out their choice.

We’ve been doing this now for several years. It started when there were only five. We added the babies as soon as they were able to sit up and be away from Mama for the required period of time.

The youngest girl – now 5 – fell asleep mid-way through the store her first few trips. She still got a toy, though. Grandpa chose the gaudiest, noisiest one he could find – and happily presented it, along with the baby girl, to the not so thrilled parents.

Little Isaiah loves to go with us. He is not able, yet, to understand that his turn only comes around every 7 weeks.

“I coming, Nonny!” “I buckle” (the seatbelt) “Go, bye-bye, Nonny!” were the words we heard on this day. And, oh, the tears when he heard that “no” would melt the coldest of hearts. So I picked him up and gave him a cuddle. I told him his turn would be soon. And then I did the hardest thing in the world. I turned and went to my car to leave. It had been his oldest brother’s turn – we were finished shopping – I was tired and had groceries to put away.

Besides – in just three weeks it would again be his turn. If he has forgiven me by then, that is.

Some people say I have too much of my life wrapped up in my grandchildren. They say it like that’s a bad thing. I don’t think we can ever give a child too much time – or too much love.

Even though Isaiah’s heart was broken at the age of two – soon he will understand that each child gets to spend special time with Grandpa and Nonny (the others call me Nana or Gramma). He, like the rest, will come to treasure that undivided attention received.

And someday – when he, himself, is a Grandpa – he’ll understand that the treasure was all ours.

Written By: barbara
Posted under: On Being a Parent, Women's Voices .  Email This Post