What I Hate About "Fundraising"

I detest typical fundraising efforts. I hate to send my children out to peddle stuff. My least favorite type of fundraiser goes something like this:

• My child is sent home with a catalog and order form for some overpriced luxury item like candles or candy.
• They are expected to make the rounds of our closest family, friends, and neighbors to sell their wares.
• They are expected to collect money by a prescribed date, and turn it in with properly filled out forms.
• They then receive a small portion of the sales towards their "fund".

This is how it really goes:

• I have to nag my children to go peddle their wares, because they feel uncomfortable doing it, and because they have other far more interesting things to do with their time.
• I have to keep track of order forms and money, because, HELLO, these are children here. As a rule, when people fork over money, they don't expect it to end up in the black hole of my son's bedroom.
• We rapidly run out of customers because:

1. We live in the boonies.
2. We don't live near extended family.
3. We have several children in the family competing for the same customer base.
4. We associate with people who don't have a lot of extra money, and aren't interested in spending it on overpriced trinkets.

I think these fundraisers are evil because they put pressure on kids and families to do something that makes them fundamentally uncomfortable. Furthermore, they don't encourage kids to actually work toward their goal, because really all they do is make the request and collect the cash. Mom usually does all the real work of managing the project and distributing the goods. Plus, most of the time, the smallest part of the profit goes to your cause. All along the way, others are getting their piece of the pie.

The only type of fundraising I actually approve, is when a kid works hard to provide a service or product that people actually want. It should be presented in a manner that puts no pressure on the potential customer. I like bake sales and car washes, because all the profits go to the cause, and no one feels strong armed into pulling over and submitting to having their car washed. Generally the same is true of bake sales, as the goods are fairly priced, and you are free to walk on past, if the sight of fudge brownies doesn't compromise you.

Lots of folks have the cockles of their hearts warmed at the sight of hard working young people, willing to give their time and energy to a cause or goal. Those folks often generously say, "Keep the change," or drop cash into a donation bucket, even if they don't have a car to wash or want a sweet. But no one put pressure on them to do it. They didn't feel taken advantage of, when their $20 box of caramels arrived, and they realized it fit on the palm of their hand. Sure looked bigger in the catalog.

I also admire people who train to do something HARD, like run a marathon, or jump on a pogo stick 10,000 times, to raise money for worthy causes. Really, they are just straight up asking you to give. They're saying, "This is important enough to me, that I'm willing to do something potentially painful to make it happen. Will you help me?" And I can respect that, because I can say yes or no as I'm able, and anyone who is strong enough to run a marathon, can deal with me saying no. But those candle and candy companies bank on the notion that cute little kids, with sad puppy dog eyes, are impossible to say no to, and that's just slippery in my opinion. Not admirable in the least.

I'm undecided about dinners. I think if you provide a nice meal, maybe some quality entertainment, and a presentation of the goal, it can be quite good. But I've been to a few sad pasta dinners and chicken barbecues, where I felt the value was just not there, and I didn't really care if the cause was worthy. People who fork over the cash for benefit dinners are honored guests. I think they should be treated as such, even if the fare is simple.

I realize I've used words like HATE, DETEST, and EVIL in this post. Clearly I feel strongly about this matter. I suppose that qualifies this as a rant. My son will be so proud. He loves a good rant.

An Essay

"Children obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. 'Honor your father and mother,' which is the first commandment with a promise: 'that it may be well with you and you may live long on the earth.' " Ephesians 6:1-3

"The eye that mocks a father, that scorns obedience to a mother, will be pecked out by the ravens of the valley, will be eaten by the vultures." Proverbs 30:17

These have been part of an ongoing writing assignment for one of my children. In addition to writing the verses many, many times, they were also expected to write an essay sharing their thoughts regarding obedience to the authorities God has placed over us. Of course we all memorized the first verse as children, and quote it regularly to our own children. The second is slightly less widely memorized and quoted, yet the message is not lost on a girl who lives where there is lots and lots of roadkill. She knows that dying by the side of the road means that the crows will eat you. After some discussion, she understood that disobedience doesn't necessarily strike you dead, but that a life of honor and obedience comes with a promise, and likewise, so does a life of dishonor and disobedience.

It took about a week of dishonor and disobedience to finally get to the place where she completed the copying part of her assignment. It should have taken no more than two days. I reminded her that she needed to write her essay. She pretty much told me where I could go with my essay. It was in this climate of anger, more than a week out from any discussion about the verses, that she began to write. I am amazed at the result. I will share in her very own words, that you may be amazed as well. I will add that although I will edit very slightly for spelling, this essay was well written in neat, pretty cursive, with little need for the red marking pen.

I think that disobedience will get you nowhere but in a broken down house somewhere. Which would lead to you smoking, and doing drugs, and drinking. This will also lead to you being sexually active and having kids that you don't want. Your kids will be like you. You will also be in and out of jail for getting in trouble with the law. Which is pretty bad. You will be sick and will look pretty bad and ugly. This will lead to you dying somewhere on the side of the road. And if somebody found you they probably wouldn't know who you were.

I think obedience will lead to you having a good life. You will get a good education. You will go to college and get a good job. You will get married and have kids that will be healthy and very obedient. Which will be great. They will have good friends and be good students at school. They won't be in and out of jail. You will live long in a nice home with a nice family. When you died there would be lots of nice people that knew you that would come to your funeral.

I think we should all go for obedience, because you will get a lot further in life with it. We should all go for obedience which would be a great choice. You won't have a bad life.

Flowers For....Me

In the last couple of weeks we have painted through our entire new house, moved into it, cleaned and polished up the old place. We broke down the goat pen and moved it, and cleaned up and reseeded the area where the pen used to sit. We've attended concerts, and dinners, and closing programs. We've had dress rehearsals for dance recitals, and graduation parties to attend. We've also dealt with cheating and lying, physical defiance and restraints. Life has been tipped upside down a bit, and attachment disordered children don't like that. Neither do attached children, or Moms or Dads for that matter.

In the midst of all this, I have been working on putting in flower beds. I don't really have the time, but I do it anyhow. I do it for me, and pretty much that's all. My house faces a deserted dirt road, that might see two cars a day, so no one will be commenting on how nice my yard looks. Beloved wanders out occasionally and cheers me on, but he would happily live in a weed patch. Nobody else in my family cares one bit about the landscaping, with the possible exception of Hippie Boy, who is currently having a love affair with a pretty orange Husquvarna push mower that he calls "his baby". Technically it was my Mother's Day gift a few years ago, but whatever. I don't really mind that my mower is cheating on me with my son.

And while he mows his little heart out, any day the weather permits, I try to get outdoors and weed, mulch, plant. Today I filled five buckets with black gold, otherwise known as my own special compost mix. It's a blend of goat manure and decomposing hay, aged for up to seven years, so rich you might be tempted to eat it with a spoon. Well, maybe not, but my plants eat it up. I turned it over into my beds, and planted my flowers, cradling them in their carefully dug holes, or in the flower boxes on my porch.

Last month was my birthday, and a friend sent me a gift. Although her husband had recently lost his job, and she was up to her eyeballs in her own challenges, she remembered that it was my birthday, and she took the time to send me a card, write me a note, and send me the dough with instructions to get a treat, just for me. For a month I have been wondering what I should buy, just for me. Last weekend I knew it was flowers; beautiful, cheerful, pink and blue flowers. I know they have fancy names, but to me, all summer, they will be my Coreyflowers.

In the midst of the crazy I will head out to my unremarked upon front yard, and pull weeds and pluck spent blossoms. I will do it just for me, and I will look at the delicate faces of my Coreyflowers and I will think of my RADmom friends. I will hope and pray that they are finding a moment of peace in their crazy days.

Community

A few thoughts on community. A friend recently expressed, that it is hard to live in community. Amen, and you ain't kidding sister! The hardest people you'll ever live with, are the people you live with. I was thinking about this today, as I was mulling over my daughter's attachment challenges. Being pretty classically attachment disordered, she seeks superficial interactions, and spurns anything deeper, more long-standing, anything that holds her accountable. In her muddled fantasy world, people are always fun. They always talk in that high pitched voice that adults reserve for young children they have just met. They always have treats for you, or plans to take you to a playground or fast food restaurant. They never stick around for more than an hour or two. They never show up more than once a week. They are always charmed by your cuteness, or at least pretend to be. This, in her mind, is the ideal relationship...and of course anyone who has experienced a healthy relationship would immediately see the problem with this opinion. It isn't a relationship. Real people, in real relationships spend time together, getting to know one another in a variety of situations. Generally this leads to seeing one another in less than favorable lights at times. And that's okay, because the people who know us and love us, warts and all, are the people that generally stick with us through the tough times, and rejoice with us when we experience success. In other words, you tough it out at times, but the payoff can be pretty big. But my daughter hasn't ever experienced this. To her, instant payoff in the form of a trinket or treat, outweighs the need to work at relationship to experience deeper joy. I find this tremendously sad.

Another thing I've been thinking about, is kind of related. I have a several friends who have adopted older, attachment challenged children. I notice a theme in so many of the conversations we have had over the course of time. There is such a craving for community. I ask myself why. These are strong willed, talented adults. They're not the sorts that would ever have trouble making friends or influencing people. So why do they exist as islands, craving community and fellowship? I believe it is because the course of their lives have taken them down a lonely, isolated road. They thought they knew where it was leading, but then they found themselves so far out in the boonies, that there was no cell phone reception. Wait, that's where I actually live...but I think you can understand that I'm using a metaphor.

So what do you do about it? I see people do a variety of things. Some people venture into town, and try really hard to fit in. They mostly do this by pretending that their lives are like everyone else's. They hide all the trauma and hooey that goes on behind closed doors, and in the end, they feel more alone and even more traumatized. Some people go with the open book model. They try and explain what their lives are like, in the hope that they would have the chance to educate people, and maintain community with the folks they used to connect with so well. Often this results in trauma as well, since those folks are polite, but frequently form opinions that have nothing to do with our reality. And of course they would. It's like trying to explain to someone what it's like to live on Mars. They form their opinions based on their experience of living on Earth. I can't blame them for that, but it does make me cranky at times.

In the end, most of us just end up living in the isolation, whether we like it or not. We get tired of trying to fit into a world that no longer fits us anymore. We grieve for our loss. We say things like, "I just want a normal life..." or "For a minute, it almost felt like we were a normal family..." or "I just want my life back." I've said them all. And while we grieve, we cry out for community, because we are so lonely. Our lives are hard, and I don't say that to whine. They just are. Day in and day out, you learn to eat disappointment. There are victories, large and small, but they are bought at great price.

This is where I'm getting to be at. I say that, because it's a very slow process. This is what I tell myself every day. When I adopted older, traumatized children I kissed normal goodbye. I brought mental illness into my home voluntarily, and I said I was ready to deal with that, and I was so deluded. There isn't a class on this Earth (or Mars for that matter) that can prepare you for that. I have been to the depths of discouragement, and grief, and anger. But here's the weird thing. I really don't want normal, no matter how much I might whine and cry about it. And I'm pretty happy with my life. I used to get all worked up about stupid, inconsequential, selfish things. I used to be weak. I used to be ruled by my emotions. I still am...but I am less so, and I believe that is a good thing. My children are really tough, but I care what happens to them, and I believe that is a good thing. I have some friends who are traveling this lonesome road, and though we don't always physically travel together, I know I don't go it alone. It is enough for me, and I am grateful.

A Thought

"The demand to know where we are going is one which no Christian has a right to make. In a very real sense we do not know where we are going, but we are trying to meet day by day the plain requirements of God's will."

~Bishop Newbigin 1909-1998

In a Word...

OK. Two of my Orlando Angels have posted this, and given orders to do it. I am nothing if not obedient. By the way, I know I broke the one word rule with ice cream... but I didn't want to lie.

Hair – troublesome
Your Mother – sputtering
Your Father – puttering
Fav Food – ice cream
Dream Last Night – forgotten
Fav Drink – coffee
What room are you in? – living
Hobby – writing
Fear – cowardice
Where were you last night? – home
Something that you aren’t – patient
Muffins – pumpkin
Wish List Item – solitude
Where you grew up – MA
What you are wearing – socks
Your Pet – many
Friends – cherished
Something you’re not wearing – shoes
Fav Store – grocery
Fav Color – red
Last time you laughed – now
Your Best Friend – husband
Best Place you go over and over – Disney
Person who you email regularly – BJ
Fav place to eat - home

I know this is the part where I'm supposed to tag folks. Just comment and tell me you did it so I can enjoy what you wrote.

Life is Only Therapy

We've all been running up against it...the sad story of the "returned" Russian adoptee. I don't want to write about it. I don't want to think about it. It opens up cans of worms I prefer to leave tightly closed. My friend Corey posted about it today, and her thoughts make me weep. Her response is well thought out, and not an emotional, knee-jerk response to a complex problem. It is true that her perception is colored by her own experiences, how could it not be? Mine is too. We are women living in a constant state of emotional contradiction; intense compassion blended with anger. It is hard to exist in our skins, loving our children so much that we are willing to live such threadbare lives to see them through. It is easy to judge when you still have dreams for your children. It is easy to judge when you still have hope. It is easy to know what you "would have done" when you do not live in constant fear.

I do not believe God wants us to live threadbare fearful lives, devoid of dreams and hope. I believe that God is "slow to anger, and of great kindness"...which implies that God has both anger and compassion for His own children. I believe God does not wish for us to run to judgment, for either the parent or the child. It's the easy road. Isn't it easy to feel anger and indignation about the boy cruising the school halls with a loaded gun? Isn't it easy to feel it about the woman handing a note to her son and shipping him off on an international flight?

We have not chosen the easy road. This thing we do is not for the faint of heart. There is so much outcry about the lack of preparation, the lack of services, the lack of supports. Don't get me wrong. Adoptive parents NEED to be prepared. Services and supports CAN be a lifesaver for a season of time. Go with that word picture... a buoyant ring, that you grab onto to keep from drowning. Something to hold onto, until you can be pulled to safety. They are not permanent solutions. They don't heal our children, they rescue us in the storm. How can you know that you can parent this child? This child is a stranger, and their history is shrouded in mystery. How can you know what you are capable of, both for good and evil, until you are put to the test?

Logic tells me that some people will find that they are made of much stronger stuff than they ever knew possible. Others will find that they grossly overestimated their own capabilities. Why is there no provision for this? Every RAD mom fantasizes about running away. That's not what I'm talking about. Every one of us gets to a breaking point, and it generally isn't pretty. But we get up again, and go back in for another round. That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about d.o.n.e. Some people get there, especially if they are isolated and believe they are alone. Maybe most people get there, when they are isolated and believe they are alone.

I realize this is a post with a lot of questions, and very few answers. The more I travel this road, the more I realize how few answers I have. Like the country song says, "Life is only therapy...real expensive, and no guarantee..." I don't want life to be that way. I want guarantees. I want to know something for sure, and I still believe I can. But the only way to do it with ease, is to hold yourself above the fray, away from the pain, out of view of all that is unsavory about humanity. Ivory palaces and all that jazz.