mc’s clamor

As a teenager I was introduced the the A&E classic series “Pride and Prejudice”. A movie series made from the book by Jane Austin. My mother and her friend watched it endlessly and quoted many lines from the film daily. In emails, phone conversations, and when we were driving them crazy . . . a shrill reply about their nerves always found it’s way to their lips. In my travelings and wanderings since then it has amazed me how this classic piece of art binds women together and creates kindred spirits almost instantly. Sometimes it pops up in the most unexpected places like an email invite titled: “Jane & Nails – TONIGHT”. It seems my friend Resa is a fellow P&P junkie who extended a warm invitation to some gals to come and watch this masterpiece while indulging in manicures and pedicures. A “thank you” goes out to Resa’s husband Eric for taking his “MAN-CATION” so that we could experience some well over due “girl-time”. Only those who have sacrificed 3-4 hours of precious sleep to finish the entire movie or even half before retiring understand the true depth of friendships that develop from this one common pleasure.

For those of you who have seen “Blood Diamond” I’d be interested in your comments and your journey through processing this movie. Dave and I watched it the other night. My reaction to it was not what I had expected. I expected to be solemn and reflective. I expected to feel sad and maybe angry. I did feel all of these in to some degree, along with an “I’m ashamed to be an American” feeling. What I didn’t count on was the gut wrenching sobs that escaped me that night. I cried through most of the movie. As the credits were rolling I was still . . . silent. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t answer Dave’s question about what I thought of the movie. I sat there crossed legs, on the floor staring and barely breathing. Dave reached down to help me up and the minute he touched my hand I broke. Shaking sobbing, opening my heart to feel the deepness of the depravity of our human existence. Trying to see and feel the hope with which I claim to cling to in Christ.

As I wrestled with God on the “why’s” and “how’s” of this conflict I was faced with a reality I can’t get away from. I was feeling such anger toward the rebel army. I felt anger toward the men in business suits talking about this conflict and what action was needed to to do stop it. It angered me that as they sat there deliberating in a safe conference room rebel soldiers in Sierra Leone were raiding and killing, raping and kidnapping, steeling and brainwashing their fellow country men, women, and children. I remember what the journalist said as she tried to capture the desperate situation . . . “it [the news coverage of this devastation] will probably be in between sports and the weather report.”

Through all of this I heard Jesus say, “Would you die for those families being torn and killed?”

“Yes” I answered. “I would go there now if I could.”

Jesus, “Why?”

“Because, they are good and decent. They are good parents. They are just trying to live peacefully.”

Jesus,” Would you die for one of the rebel soldiers?”

“I know the answer is I should want to die for the rebel soldiers. But honestly I want to kill all of those murdering soldiers.”

Jesus, “I died for them both.”

My question now is what do I do with that? Jesus died so that we all can live. Would I go and serve the soldiers in the name of Jesus just like I would the devastated men, women, and children of these war torn countries? Would I sacrifice my life so that one of those evil men could live?

I know the answer is I should want to die for any man to have a chance to live. But I just don’t know if I could.

I am in the middle of the beginning stages of cloth diapering. We started using gdiapers about a month ago and I really like them. As a family we’re trying to take better care of the earth and be more aware of where we purchase what we consume, what we’re consuming, and how we’re getting rid of the trash our consuming makes. I can’t help but imagine our local trash collector has a whole landfill labeled “Clark Boy’s Dumping Ground” (literally). I smile when I change little Brenny’s diaper and know that instead of heading to the “dumping ground” to decompose for years and years I can flush the inserts or trash them because they decompose in less than a year around 50-200 days. The inserts work great for most things but our budget. They are more expensive so I’m going to supplement with clothdiapers. They fit into the gdiaper cover beautifully and in the long run will save us money. My mother used cloth on all of us and I feel a kind of deeper kinship with her now.

I’m feeling rather pioneerish about this whole journey. I feel grateful that I do not have to ride in a covered wagon during this cloth diapering adventure. I can’t get Brennan to hold still to change his diaper as it is. I can’t imagine in the bumpy wagon! Much less not being able to rinse them off right away and I’m sure the smell . . . o.k. I don’t think I need to elaborate. So I’ll just cloth diaper here in my nice air-conditioned home with a toilet to dump . . . uh . . . stuff in and a sink to rinse off in and a tub to dunk the human eliminator in if anything should escape down a leg.