Modeh Ani

Posted on November 11, 2013 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

I’ve recently discovered the myriad of Jewish prayers. I’m fascinated with the idea that every part of the day offers up an opportunity to serve God. Now, as a disclaimer, many Jewish writers will not write out “God” but will write “G_d” or another characteristic of God, such as “Hashem” (the Name). I understand the need for showing respect to your Creator, but as “God” is not so much a name as a job title, I don’t feel a need to change it.

There are many things I find admirable about the Jewish faith, and I find it beneficial to my Christian path to learn them. Jesus was, after all, a Jew. The more I learn about Judaism, the more I understand about Jesus’ message.

Every day is to be filled with thankfulness to God. These blessings are a reminder that we are from God and are made to serve God. It has been suggested that you are supposed to say 100 blessings a day. The day begins with the Modeh Ani.

Modeh Ani is a Jewish prayer that observant Jews recite daily upon waking, while still in bed.

From Wikipedia –
• Hebrew: מוֹדֶה (מוֹדָה) אֲנִי לְפָנֶֽיךָ מֶֽלֶךְ חַי וְקַיָּים. שֶׁהֶֽחֱזַֽרְתָּ בִּי נִשְׁמָתִי בְחֶמְלָה. רַבָּה אֱמֽוּנָתֶֽךָ׃
• Transliteration: Modeh (modah) ani lifanekha melekh ḥai v’kayam sheheḥezarta bi nishmahti b’ḥemlah, rabah emunatekha.
• Translation: I offer thanks before you, living and eternal King, for You have mercifully restored my soul within me with compassion; Your faithfulness is great.

(Actually, the Wikipedia article eliminated the word “Compassion” in the translation, but had it in the commentary. Other translations have “compassion” there, so I inserted it.)

Note – women say “modah” and men say “modeh”.

Some commentators say you are to arise with a “lionlike” resolve, ready to start the day.

The Kotzer Reb says that this is a good time to reflect “Who am I?” and “Who are You?”
The “Torah Tots” website offers this interpretation of this idea –
“As one sage once said, “We would do well to reflect upon the “Ani,” “I,” and the “Le’fanecha,” “You (Hashem).” When we realize who we really are, and before Whom we stand, our sense of appreciation would be greatly enhanced.”

You give thanks that God has restored your soul to you. Sleep is likened to death. When you are asleep, you are like a dead person, because you have no control over what you do.

When you awaken, you are now again able to choose what to do. Part of the meaning of this prayer is that you are aware that God has restored you to your full capacity, with the understanding that you are to thank God for this by serving God.

This prayer is recited upon first waking up – while you are still in bed. Your first conscious act is to serve and be thankful to God.

Again from Torah tots” – According to the Shulchan Aruch, one should pause slightly between the words “bechemlah – compassion” and ” rabbah – abundant (is Your faithfulness).” Rabbah and emunatecha should be said together, as in the verse, “They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.” (Eicha 3:23)

This is similar to the idea of “In the Beginning…” or, as the first word of the Bible is sometimes translated “With Beginnings”. Every day is a new chance. We aren’t stuck. We have a new day and new energy with which to serve God. We have a new day to make things better.

Demon fireplace

Posted on November 10, 2013 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

At the retreat center I went to in September, there is a mantlepiece that was handcarved by a priest. He is related to the Sister that runs the center. The center is a retirement home for Sisters of Mercy. This particular mantlepiece isn’t actually being used over a fireplace. It used be in another building but it got moved here. It is a piece of sculpture at this point.

It is a little disturbing.

This is the part that draws your attention when you come into the room.

This part is at just below eye level. It is the largest part on the piece. It took the most amount of time.

I studied it up close, in part because it frightened me. I’m making part of my practice to not run away from things that frighten me. This has many layers – it wasn’t carved from one piece of wood. I seem to recall there were at least seven layers. I’m a little concerned that a priest spent this much time working on the face of a demon.

Let’s look at it straight on.

Here’s the view when you back away and look at the whole thing.

Jesus is insignificant in comparison.

It reminds me in part of Hindu carvings of Shiva dancing, yet his foot is on a tiny, hobbled creature that represents ignorance. I doubt that the priest had this in mind when he carved it.

Bluets

Posted on November 10, 2013 by betsybeadhead | 1 Comment

Allow me to introduce you to one of my favorite flowers. They are called bluets. I first saw them when I was on my honeymoon. We went to Grandfather Mountain, which is in the Western part of North Carolina. They are tiny little flowers – less than an inch across. They are a delicate pale sky blue, with a gold center. They bloom in May. I think of them as our special wedding flower. I feel like they bloomed just for us, to celebrate our wedding.

Here is a huge bank of them on Grandfather Mountain.

Let’s get closer, shall we?

Oh, why not get even closer?

Gosh, they are so lovely, why not get right up in them?

They are like looking at a field of stars.

I love them in part because they are not showy. They don’t call attention to themselves. You have to get right up on top of them to see them, which is perfect for my eyesight. I have come to really appreciate tiny things because that is all I can see well these days. I have to take my glasses off to see anything this close, but I see it better than I see regular things with my glasses. Bifocals are in my future.

Parenting license.

Posted on November 10, 2013 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

I wear baggy clothes for the same reason some people gain weight. I do it to hide. Somehow in wearing something too large, shapeless and styleless, I’m hiding who I really am. I know, deep down, that even if I were naked, I’d still not be showing my true self. The soul is deeper than skin.

Perhaps my need to wear dull colors is also a self defense technique. It says don’t notice me. It is the same as camouflage for birds. The male cardinal is red. But the female is brown. She is the one who protects the young. Perhaps the child I am protecting is myself.

I know that lots of things were taken from me as a child. I know that I was not loved or cherished. I know that my room was gone into without my permission. I know that my money was stolen by my dad and my brother. My brother stole it from my room. My dad just took it out of my savings account. He saw it as a spare account for him. Much of my money as a child came from my grandmother. She was his mother. I know that he expected my Mom to give him the Christmas money that she got from his Mom. He saw any money from her as money for him. Money is a symbol. Perhaps he felt that she never gave him enough of anything. Perhaps he was jealous if she gave anything to anyone else.

He was greedy. He was selfish. He was a glutton. He did not care about other people’s feelings. If I told him that I had a headache, he would tell me about how he had a bigger headache once. Maybe he thought that by pointing out how it could be worse, I should get over it. Maybe he was just self centered and didn’t know how anything could be about anyone who wasn’t him.

If I told him about something emotional, something that made me sad or angry, he offered a pill. They were all prescription. But prescribed doesn’t mean healthy. Medicating your feelings is escaping them. I’m grateful I never took him up on it. I’m sad that I wasn’t taught how to deal with my feelings.

It is just like with alcohol. Just because it is legal doesn’t mean it is healthy. If you drink to deal with your feelings, you are abusing yourself and your children. You aren’t teaching them how to be human. You are teaching them how to escape. You are stunting their emotional growth.

You are supposed to trust your parents. They are supposed to look out for you. They aren’t supposed to get zonked out on substances, legal or otherwise. They aren’t supposed to just take up space on your childhood. They aren’t supposed to chain smoke themselves to death. They aren’t supposed to leave you high and dry.

My parents abandoned me before they died. They just weren’t there. Perhaps they did me a favor by dying. It meant that I got to learn that their normal wasn’t normal at all. I had to start looking out for myself and learning from others.

I find I get really angry when I see a family where the parents reek of cigarette smoke. They are poisoning their children every day. Even if they smoke outside of the house, they are shortening their lives day by day, and they are reducing their energy level bit by bit. Even before they die they have stopped being alive. Smoking is theft. It steals your health and your life from your children.

I find I get really angry when I see parents treating their children how I was treated. I want to yell at the Mom for treating her son like he is an embarrassment or an interruption. I get really angry when I see this same mom who growls at her child for doing things that are normal for children decides to have even more children.

I get really sad when I see these children look so sad. If eyes are the windows of the soul, his soul is screaming “Rescue me, someone, anyone. I am in hell.”

I asked three people what I could do. A minister. A teacher. A therapist. They said I can’t do anything. I just have to watch this happen.

Is it possible that there were people who saw me as a child and wondered the same thing?

Some people are simply not capable of being selfless enough to have children.

It isn’t fair. It isn’t right.

You have to pass a driver’s test to get a driver’s license. The theory is so you prove that you are safe. But amateurs get to have children. Sadly, the driver doesn’t get caught in the flaming wreckage. The passenger does.

Exercise disclaimer.

Posted on November 9, 2013 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

Have you ever read this? “Before doing this exercise or participating in any exercise program, please consult your physician.” They wrote it to cover their butts. Really, they should write “Don’t sue us if you hurt yourself doing this” because this is what they really mean.

People aren’t very good at thinking ahead and thinking for themselves. Remember we live in a time where you can win a lawsuit against a fast food company because you spilled hot coffee on yourself.

It doesn’t do you any good to consult about exercise with your doctor. Western doctors treat symptoms rather than cause. If you started exercising and eating well, you’d put them out of business.

Rather than encourage my father to stop smoking, his doctor gave him a pill to stop his coughing. Rather than connect patients with nutritionists and exercise coaches, doctors give out diabetes medications. There are ads telling us that we can “eat like a kid again” meanwhile the person is at a state fair eating corn dogs and funnel cakes. It may be fun to eat this, but it isn’t food. Doctors should not be enablers. Doctors should “Do no harm” like their oath says.

I went to an ENT this year because my throat and neck hurt. He put a tube down my nose to look at my throat and saw evidence of acid reflux. Rather than suggesting lifestyle or diet changes, he put me on an antibiotic and an antacid. My neck still hurt, and obviously the acid is still there. He didn’t even want to tell me what the problem was. He didn’t want to spell out my condition, which was a symptom, not a disease. He wanted me placid and docile. He wanted to be in charge.

It took a trip to my chiropractor (who is also a nutritionist) to find out that I have arthritis in my neck. I now use a special pillow for my neck. What a simple fix. A comment to him about my experience at the ENT resulted in his entirely different theory that the problem isn’t too much acid, but too little. He says that we produce less acid as we get older and we need to supplement it or our food does not properly digest. I did a simple vinegar test and now know how much acid I need. I feel a lot better, and I’m even losing weight.

I wonder if Crohn’s and IBS and many other digestion maladies can be solved in this simple way? I doubt that regular doctors will even entertain this idea.

More doctors need to engage their patients in their own health care. More doctors need to understand that they work for the patient, and stop treating us as if we are ignorant children.

And we need to wake up. We cannot be passive about our lives. We can’t keep on thinking that we can eat whatever we want and not exercise and we won’t get ill. We know what we have to do. It isn’t a surprise.

It isn’t easy to switch from drinking sodas to water. It isn’t easy to switch from all meat to mostly vegetables. It isn’t easy to go from fried to steamed or baked. But it is worth it. Food does indeed taste better when it isn’t salty, deep fried mush. It takes about a week for your taste buds to relearn this.

It isn’t easy to start exercising. It isn’t easy to stick with it. But it is worth it. You won’t see the benefits right away, but the payoff is better energy, better rest, and better strength. The payoff is a stronger heart and increased resistance to disease.

If we are concerned about changes in health insurance, then we need to do what we can to improve our health so that we don’t need it. We have to stop thinking that doctors have all the answers. We have to stop thinking that we can do whatever we want and then just take a pill or have surgery to counter our mistakes.

You know how Jesus said “Go forth and sin no more”? That. But with health. The “sin” is continuing to eat whatever we want and refusing to exercise and then thinking we will be rescued by modern medicine. It is far better to not need to be rescued at all. There is no diet. There is only what Michael Pollan suggests in his book “Food Rules”. His mantra? Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants. For a further explanation, read the book. I suggest getting it from your local library.

Confessional.

Posted on November 9, 2013 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

At the retreat center I went to in September, there is a confessional in a separate room on the way to the chapel. The priest goes in first and sits behind the screen.

The confessee goes in separately and sits in the front section.

Here is the screen he sits in front of. It means that his identity is obscured. This is supposed to mean that he can speak freely, without fear of judgment.

I was amazed at the difference in the two sections. The area for the priest is three-quarters the size of the confessee. The priest’s chair is large and comfortable. The other chair is small and hard. The priest’s area is filled with light. The other area is dark and depressing.

It seems like the person who needs the light the most would be the person who is confessing. It seems to me that jamming him into a tiny, dark, cramped area will only add to his distress. He is there to be made to feel better. He is there to have his sins forgiven.

Now, the point is that all of our sins are already forgiven. Priests don’t forgive sins. Jesus does that. Jesus did that on the cross. The priest just reminds you of that. Sometimes they get that part mixed up.

This is a painting that is visible to both people. I don’t know the story behind it.

On tutoring ESL (and other) kindergartners.

Posted on November 9, 2013 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

Some of you may be wondering what I do when I tutor ESL kindergartners. I was wondering that myself when I started three years ago. I thought that I would just be reading to them. Boy was I wrong. Reading is the last thing I do.

At first I was concerned how was I going to communicate with them. I’m not fluent in other languages. I know a smattering of several languages but not enough to really I interact for a long time. Plus, some of the kids start with languages that use different alphabets. I finally realized that I don’t have to know their language or alphabet. I have to know mine. And I know mine pretty well. I have clear handwriting, a clear voice, and a degree in English. I’ve tutored students with learning disabilities. This all helps. But mostly what helps is a desire to help them learn, and a willingness to try anything to get this information in. Half of my job is just showing up and trying whatever works.

There are children from the Congo, Uzbekistan, Ethiopia, and Mexico. I was amazed when I first started how many people from all around the world make my little section of Nashville home. I’ve come to realize that is part of what makes Nashville so amazing.

I also tutor kids whose first language is English. I tutor whoever needs me. Often the English-speakers need me because they have other issues going on. Some are possibly dyslexic. Some get no attention at home because their parents are not really ready or able to be parents.

The teacher gives me lists of who to work with and what to work on. I use this as a guideline. Sometimes the child will see something else in my basket of “tools” and want to use that. Sometimes they will not want anything hard at all and they just want to have me read books to them or go over their ABCs. I have to be flexible, yet also aware when they are just trying to play and not work at all.

Here are some examples of the lists. WordPress might have turned these around. The uploader isn’t doing what I want today, but something, even turned sideways, is better than nothing.

We have different games we use to teach them. I don’t invent these games. The teacher provides them to me on the day I arrive and I use them with the kids. I’m glad that she has all this figured out. Sometimes it takes a while for me to understand what I’m supposed to do with these games, but eventually it makes sense.

I started tutoring for one basic reason. I realized I was saying “How come they don’t learn our language?” way too much. I turned it around and said “How come I’m not teaching them our language?” There are a lot of immigrants here, and a lot of them don’t know English. They can’t speak it or read it. Sometimes they can’t read at all, even in their own language. It is common for people to expect government offices to accommodate them with their different languages. Rather than expecting each employee to have to learn each different language, it makes more sense for us to take the time to teach them English. Work on one language rather than thirty. It seemed easiest to start with children. I can’t teach everybody, but I’ll do what I can.

We use all sorts of tools, and they look like toys.

Here’s something that helps with vocabulary. The items are in a brown paper bag.

A child will put her hand in and I’ll ask her to find a specific item without looking. In this particular bag are a bat, a pig, and an egg.

When she pulls out an item, we then match it up with the card and we use plastic letters to spell the word. They learn vocabulary, and that these letters represent this thing. They also get to practice fine motor skills.

We have a sight word slap game.

There are words they should recognize by a certain part of the year, and this is a fun way to practice. They get a bug swatter and words on a sheet, in ladybugs. I call out a word and the child has to find it and swat it. It can get really exciting when there are two kids playing this together.

There is a neat plastic board with removable letters.

The letters have little teeth on them that fit with the orange pieces. The orange pieces have pictures on them. We figure out what the word is and then try to match the sound of the word to the letters. The teeth in the orange piece fit the teeth in the letters, so it is self-correcting.

We always read books at the end. They are very simple books. I’m delighted when they get to the point that they can actually read the book to me and not just figure out the story from the pictures.

Towards the end of our time together I can tell they are getting tired. There is only so much one-on-one intense work they can handle. I’ll ask them if they want to go back to class or do something else like read another book. I always make sure they know that they have control. I am there for them, not the other way around.

After each child is through for the day I say “Thank you for working with me.” I realize that it is hard work for them. I’m grateful that they try so hard.

Here are some of them from the first year. They made “glasses” and were wearing them. I love the fact that I see some of them in the hallway when classes are changing and they still recognize me.

A note on spelling –
Here’s the funny bit. Nobody seems to know what is the standard spelling for what to call kids in kindergarten. Sometimes the spelling is “kindergartener” and sometimes it is “kindergartner”. One spell-checker will challenge me on one, and another will challenge me on another. Whatever. So if I mix it up, it isn’t me.

Poem – pain

Posted on November 9, 2013 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

There is nothing about pain
that is easy.
There is everything about pain
that is beautiful.

When we are lost
and hurt
and angry
and tired

and just plain sick of it all

there we are, stuck again
with pain.

We might as well pull it up a chair
and make it some tea
and get to know it

Because it isn’t going away.

Pain lets us know we are alive.
Pain lets us know we are transforming into,
evolving into,

The be-ing that we are.

We are human be-ings.
Not human do-ings.

We are who we are.

And sometimes what we are
is a big old bundle of nerves
wrapped up in feelings
that cross over and under
our past and our present and our future
and it just hurts to be alive.
But this pain is our awakening, our beginning, our opening.

Pain is how the Light gets in.

Give thanks for pain.
It is the bell that calls you to yourself.
It lets you know it is time to pray.
It lets you know it is time to make a change.
It wakes you up.

Give thanks.

Hair philosophy.

Posted on November 9, 2013 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

I cut my own hair. I’ve cut my own hair since I was in college. My brother’s wife at the time was a hairdresser and she happened to mention that she cut her own hair. I’d never even considered such a thing. I always thought that was something that you had hire someone to do. How many other things are possible if we just hear that we can do it ourselves?

Fortunately when I first started cutting my own hair I was in college, where it didn’t really matter what my hair looked like. I had a job on campus to pay off my student loan, so it wasn’t like a real job. If my hair looked weird I wasn’t going to get fired. Plus, having strange hair is part of being in college. If it looked really strange I could wear a hat.

I cut my hair like I trim shrubbery. I whack at it until it doesn’t bother me. Just like shrubbery, it will grow back, so there really isn’t too much that can go wrong. Well, there was the time that I cut off way too much and had to trim up the rest to match… It turns out that I look good with a Mohawk. It is more about attitude than style. If you carry the “yeah, I meant this” attitude, you can get away with any style.

I have gotten my hair cut professionally before and it always seems to be done wrong. I have a weird random cowlick that starts about four inches down on my right side. I know where it is but the hairdressers never do. I’ve decided that it is just easier to cut my own hair. Why pay to get my hair cut, and have it done badly, when I can screw it up myself for free?

If you are a highly sensitive person, cutting your own hair is the way to go. Going to a hairdressing salon can be a very overwhelming experience if you have sensory processing disorder. No more dealing with a stranger touching your head. No more feeling trapped in that uncomfortable chair with a person standing behind you. No more smelling the strong chemicals in the salon.

After all these years I’ve gotten pretty good at cutting my own hair. It takes a bit of practice to get right, because I am working backwards in a mirror. The trick is to cut a little bit at a time and make small adjustments. Also – have a simple hairstyle.

I used to cut my hair as a study break in college. I studied a lot, and when the stress would get to me I’d cut my hair. I guess I got in more practice that way. It didn’t look that bad. In fact, a friend wanted her hair cut like mine and I cut her hair for free. She looked like me and also worked on campus. It was funny dealing with people in the bookstore where I worked who would stare at me and say “Weren’t you in the computer lab?” I’d assure them that I wasn’t. They wouldn’t believe me. I’d ask – was I really quiet and shy, or energetic like I am now? The quiet and shy one is Beth, not Betsy. Plus – her hairstyle wasn’t exactly like mine – it was the mirror of mine. It was a funny summer.

Library buffet.

Posted on November 8, 2013 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

Libraries are like all you can eat buffets. You can fill up on all sorts of stuff that is good for you, or you can fill up on junk. It is your choice, but also you have to bear the responsibility of your choice. If you are what you eat, you certainly are what you read.

There is something for everyone at the library. No matter what your taste or inclination, there is something for you. Even in fiction, I am constantly amazed at the variety. There are not just multiple genres, but crossovers. Large print Christian Amish suspense. Urban historical Western romance. Zombie romantic comedy. We have it all.

There is a lot of fiction, but also a lot of non fiction. If you want to learn anything about how to improve your health, your business, your marriage, your community, or the world, the library has it.

The library was my salvation when I was a child. It still is. I learned about the secret of Santa Claus from the library. I learned about the secret of sex too. I have no idea if my parents were ever going to clue me in to either one of these things. I learned early on that if I wanted the truth, I was going to find it in a book rather than from them. Even now, if there is anything that I need to know more about, I find a book from the library and learn.

Libraries are also my escape. If life is a little bit heavy, then some Terry Pratchett will lighten it. If life is too predictable, then Neil Gaiman will make things more interesting. Libraries are a place to find new friends for my journey.

Libraries are the great equalizer. It doesn’t matter how poor you are or how uneducated your parents are. With a library you can escape the horrible pull of poverty and ignorance. Yet, just like with a buffet, you can make bad choices too. Well, maybe I shouldn’t say they are bad, but they certainly aren’t nutritious or uplifting.

I’m sad when people use their library to exclusively waste their time and thus their lives. I’m sad when poor parents don’t use the resource of the library to help their children escape the cycle of poverty. Nothing is more empowering than knowledge.

We have a limit of 10 movies that patrons can check out at a time, and there are a stunning amount of people who get that limit and watch them and get then more, every few days. Some people have their wives’ and child’s card and get 30 movies at a time.

What an amazing waste.

Then there is “urban erotic fiction”, with broken English and stereotyped scripts. I’ve already written about how damaging I find that genre. I’m upset that it teaches African-American women that they are things and not people. I’m upset that it teaches them that they aren’t anything unless they have a man, and they aren’t much then either. I’m upset that they are reading the literary equivalent of deep-fried Twinkies. I want them to be empowered, not enslaved.

There are also other choices that aren’t the best. Sure, you don’t have to get educational materials all the time. But I worry about parents who let their children only get comic books. Children are like plants. You have to support them and raise them. They can’t be allowed to just grow up like weeds. They have to have good information put in them.

It is stunning to see the difference between foreign born parents and American born parents. The foreign born ones get educational books for their children. The children learn early on that their job is to learn. They develop healthy habits about learning. The parents choose for their kids the majority of their books.

The American born parents let their children pick out whatever they want. While I’m all for kids having some say in what they read, I know that they aren’t going to push themselves at all. Some, generally lower income ones, let their kids get just movies. This will just continue the cycle of poverty. If they can’t read, they can’t get good jobs.

Library materials and food are the same. If you let a child choose what to eat, he is going to pick junk food and candy. No child picks broccoli and squash if he has had hot dogs and chocolate. I’m not for censorship at the library, the same way I’m not for eliminating fried food at Golden Corral. I am for people being mindful about the repercussions of their choices. Life is short. Choose wisely.