alexis in the city

my dad is awesomesauce

The great thing about blogging is you can write sentimental posts for people in lieu of gifts ~ j/k, I took my dad out to dinner as his father’s day gift last time we visited. On mother’s day, I posted a tribute I’d written for my mom several years back so for father’s day, I wanted to resurrect this post I wrote last year. It’s a list of reasons why I’m grateful for both my parents, but I still found it applicable as a tribute to my dad!

1. they taught me i could be anything, do anything, have anything i wanted. i don’t remember anything ever being too crazy, too ambitious too … whatever.  i always had (and still have) a strongly-held belief that i could accomplish what i set my mind to, thanks to the encouragement of my parents.

and they went beyond just telling me i could do something. when i played sports, i don’t think my mom ever missed a game (and my dad was always there if he was in town). when i was a cheerleader my mom learned the cheers. whether i was competing in piano guilds or pageants, they were driving me, practicing with me, giving me the tools i needed so i COULD actually accomplish anything. (and, looking back, i accomplished a lot for a kid!) this type of support was especially impressive considering my dad was gone probably an average of 25-40% of my childhood … yet i never felt like he wasn’t there for the things that mattered.

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I don’t care what you guys say - MY mom is the best!

I wrote this note for a project my parents’ chaplain put together for military moms on Mother’s Day a few years ago. Since I hadn’t posted it on the blog, I thought now was an appropriate time to do so. Love you mom!

As an Air Force Brat, I grew up with a pretty privileged, sheltered life. Of course, I didn’t realize it then – and sometimes still forget how blessed I was, and am. It wasn’t till I went away to college that I began to uncover the idyllic tendencies of my upbringing.

It came as news to me that some people’s moms hadn’t always been there to answer the phone when they forgot their homework (and subsequently bring it to school for them). Or that most people’s days DIDN’T start with a home cooked breakfast and prayer before school – as they did for me – or get capped off with reading the classics (some of my favorite childhood memories). I also discovered that, post 1950’s, it wasn’t super-common for families to all sit down to dinner together – but we did, even if we had to wait till 8 pm, when dad got home from work.

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i have not forgotten

this is a little late for a 9/11 post, i realize, but i got fired up by something i saw recently. in regards to a 9/11 related admonition by a friend on facebook to “never forget” a comment was made that too many people had forgotten, including those who wanted to close gitmo.

i do not wish this post to be a delineation of why i support closing gitmo or how i feel about torture. i’ve already explained all that here and elsewhere. i do wish to point out how absurd and offensive this conclusion is in general, and to me specifically. in general, it shouldn’t take much common sense to determine that remembering and mourning 9/11 is not mutually exclusive with wanting to shut down a detainment camp.

perhaps it shouldn’t, but it upsets me GREATLY that someone would infer that a political and/or humanitarian stance would remove any and all sympathy, empathy, pain and suffering in regards to that tragic day.

perhaps i shouldn’t, but i take it personally. 9/11 hit close to home for me, in a sense. i don’t mean to put myself on the same par at all with 9/11 survivors or people who lost friends and family - i’m not at all trying to equate my experience with theirs. but it was none the less traumatic for me in a way it probably wasn’t for many people: my dad was deployed when we engaged in operation iraqi freedom. he was sent to saudi arabia to help command the satellite/space aspects and operations of the war, so he wasn’t on the front lines and in terms of war it was probably the safest place he could be. but i was 18, away from family at college, and i was scared. we didn’t know when he was coming home and there was that frightening nagging thought that none of us wanted to articulate: “what if he’s NOT coming home.” i remember that thought. i remember scrounging through magazines and newspapers looking for references to my dad’s base and his operations. i remember getting emails from him - and hoping i would continue to get them.

i remember all that - even now my hands are shaky, my heart is beating fast - i will NEVER forget. to say that i ever could, simply because of a political position i’ve decided to hold, makes me angry. it reduces the fright and the memories to nothing, based simply on partisanship. it infuriates me that my dad’s - and my family’s - sacrifice and uncertainty during those times could be so easily written off.

to say that i have forgotten just because i support closing a prison is completely unfair - and completely inaccurate.

why church is like the gym

church is like the gym for me. some people have probably heard my analogy, but here it is:

i get up every morning and go to the gym, 7 am, like clockwork. it’s not a choice for me, it’s not something i evaluate, it’s just something i do. it’s something i’ve always done basically my entire life, and i don’t really think about it. i don’t know how to do anything else from 7 to 8am. i don’t particularly enjoy it - i don’t wake up in the morning thinking, “oh boy, i’m so excited to get up and work out.” like i said - i don’t think about it at all. i show up at the gym and i work the hell out of myself. i don’t have a blast while i’m there, but i don’t hate it. then, after i leave, i’m glad i went - i feel like i did something good for myself and that i made a good decision. and if i don’t go (yes, there have been a handful of times over the course of my life where i’ve **gasp** skipped the gym!) i feel like crap. overall i see the benefits it has in my life and therefore it’s not a habit i’m going to part with.

this is pretty much the perfect description for how i view church. i don’t go every day or anything, but it’s a weekly habit that’s been ingrained in me since the dawn of time as i know it. i don’t really enjoy it, but i’m not miserable - and after i go, i’m glad i went … though - like the gym - that’s mostly because if i don’t go, i feel guilty.

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missional vs. evangelical

my alumni magazine had this great article on the emerging missional movement and the difference between it and the evangelical movement that swept the church in the ’90s - and whose effects we continue to experience. i think the article did a really good job of presenting both sides and explaining the need for a little bit of both. i acknowledge this need (to evangelize as well as minister relevantly in our communities), but there is a large part of me that has a bitter taste in my mouth related to evangelicalism as defined by many of the churches i’ve come in contact with. i’ve explained the theological, biblical and political reasons why i’ve departed from a predominately evangelical worldview in previous posts, so i’m not seeking to make this an exhaustive argument for missional over evangelical.

i’ve always been turned off by the outward-facing, recruit-more-people megachurches that seemed to arise as a result of evangelicalism. of course this may have something to do with the fact that growing up, each time we moved, my parents seemed to systematically seek out churches that met in schools, community centers, strip malls and the like. considering i’ve moved close to two dozen times in my life, i can just about count the number of “normal” brick-and-mortar churches i went to on one hand. (when i seriously examine my upbringing, i wonder if i had any choice but to turn out the way i did, on so many levels!)

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