The Day I Met Michael Farris or On the Parental Rights Amendment

As Dad and I walked out of a recent homeschool conference, he looked at me, smiled, shook his head, and said, "Only you....only you".

My reply? "But of course!"

(The incident under discussion being my question to Michael Farris in the previous seminar, in which he had expressed support for the Parental Rights Amendment, and I piped up, asking whether or not such an amendment would protect child abusers, and why or why not?).

For those of you who don't know, Michael Farris founded Patrick Henry College and HSLDA, and is somewhat of a really big deal in the homeschooling community - yes, we have our own celebrities as well, thank you very much ;) However, when one is surrounded by homeschool parents, and happens to be the only young person in the room, perhaps asking about parental abuse may not be the most inconspicuous course of action! And with all the controversy surrounding such an amendment, advocates of homeschooling almost universally support such an amendment, and it is only those who are opposed to homeschooling who are seen criticizing it. Anyways. 

His reply entailed an explanation of the difference between a non-fundamental right, a fundamental right, and an absolute right. A non - fundamental right, he said, was one in which the individual must prove that no abuses of such a right has occurred. A fundamental right was one in which the burden of proof rest on the government / prosecution. Therefore, it is up to the government to prove decisively that an abuse of said right has occurred. And finally, an absolute right is one which is, well, absolute and gives complete control to the one in authority without outside interference, checks, or balances. 

The right of parents to homeschool, he said, was a fundamental right. Therefore, if the government has reason to believe that it is being abused, the responsibility is on the government to prove the guilt of the persons in question beyond a shadow of a doubt, as opposed to the burden of proving their innocence resting on the accused. 

However, it is not an absolute right. It is one which parents have been entrusted with fundamentally as a result of being parents of a child. Under no circumstances is abuse ever okay, but if there is concern that abuse may be happening, it is the responsibility of the government to prove it, making the parents innocent until proven guilty rather than guilty until proven innocent. 

Now, if you're like me, you can pick out the loopholes..most notably, where would this proof come from? The testimony of children who may not speak truthfully due to a deeply instilled fear of social workers/the government? Governmental inspection of households which are expert at appearing perfect on the outside to mask the horrors which occur behind closed doors? 

But...then again, there is the risk of that in any household. However, homeschooled children may be at greater risk of protecting abusers due to the rhetoric of homeschooling which teaches that speaking ill of one's family is a capital offense, and cutting the net that holds you. 

In all, I really don't know. In a perfect world, sure, but we don't live in a perfect world. There's bound to be troubles, and bound to be problems, but I suppose the way to avoid them isn't to automatically assume the worst of every parent. 

That's like prohibiting men and women from ever being alone with each other because you've automatically jumped to the most negative conclusion. 

Which isn't right. 

But on the other hand, do we care to risk being too trusting? 

Because, ultimately, if this ends up being a negative thing, the parent's aren't really the ones who will suffer the most. It will be the kids who are abused under the cover of protecting parental right.

And while I realize that abuse happens to public schooled kids as well, if a kid goes to school, they aren't at home for the majority of the day, therefore ideally they have a respite and can tell someone in order to get help. Homeschooled kids may or may not have that freedom.

*shrug*

I honestly haven't done a whole lot of research on this, and it seems to me that most pieces on this are opinion instead of fact (not that this is any better, but....) ;)

On this particular topic, I'm currently leaning towards being in favor of it under the condition that it's a fundamental and not an absolute right, and that parents and the government realize that as well.

I mean, kids live with their parents anyways, parents are the God-given caretakers of their children, and I don't see anything wrong with it in a perfect world, but unfortunately we don't live in a perfect world. I'm still sorting through my thoughts on this, but I suppose for now, that's about where I stand.

Thoughts? 

Literary Heroes: Jesus

Alright, alright, I know what you're all thinking.. either that this is some cheesy attempt at Christian-ese and the Bible isn't really literature (it is, by the way..only..it's completely true). OR you're curious as to what I come up with.

I'm hoping the latter, but if not, let me assure you that this isn't just because people think if you're a Christian you're obligated to talk about Jesus, but because honestly the real Jesus - the one portrayed in the Bible - IS one of my heroes.

See, the thing about Jesus is that the media, literature, and even Christianity portrays him as sweet, skinny meek, mild, and always on the verge of tears. Now, don't get me wrong, He knew when and how to be gentle and tender.

But. He wasn't always.

He was also wild and untamed and furious and strong and majestic and powerful and He never shied away from scathing confrontation.

I mean, think about it.

Who walks - on water - in the middle of a storm!? Most people I know are terrified to even stand out on their front porch in a storm, let alone walk out onto the middle of a stormy lake - at night, no less!

Who chases moneychangers out of the temple with a whip! A whip! This wasn't just a nice speech asking them to please take their wares elsewhere. This was a whip and overturning tables and literally chasing them out.

Who looks at the most powerful religious leaders of the day and calls them hypocrites, whitewashed tombs of dead man's bodies? Not a coward, that's for sure.

And if you think about it further...

Joseph was a carpenter. Jesus grew up in a carpenters shop, and spent the first thirty - three years of his life working alongside his father.

So, forgive me if I find the idea of a weak pushover skinny Jesus somewhat laughable.

His hands would have been large, rough, and scarred, not soft and white.

His skin would have been tanned from hours working in the sun, and he sure as heck wouldn't be wearing pink lipstick! (*cough* Son of God *cough*)

The real Jesus...the true Jesus...He wasn't weak, measly, or effeminate.

He was strong and tender, kind and courageous, powerful and pointed and scathing and yet knew when to be soft. He loved children, loved the world His Father created, and loved humanity, and I cannot picture Him refusing to get His hands dirty in order to preserve His 'image.

The real Jesus...was the epitome of masculinity, and to close with a quote from Ezra Pound,

"No capon priest was the Goodly Fere / but a man o' men was He!"

Tale as Old as Time... On Beauty and the Beast.

I adore Beauty and the Beast. 

And quite frankly, always have. 

Ever since I was a wee thing, and discovered my first fairy tales, I've loved that story above all others. No matter that Cinderella was my first fairy tale, or that I'm secretly a mermaid (Ariel), and have been nicknamed Pocahontas more times than I can count, and when I wear Indian clothes I am instantly dubbed Jasmine.

I love Belle. 

After all, she's not even a Princess. She simply loves to read and longs for an adventure beyond her small world. 

Boy, can I ever relate! 

I can't count the number of times I've pulled a Belle - aka, nose in a book, completely oblivious to my surroundings, as I walk through either my house, school, church, the library, etc. Never mind that it usually ends in a rather loud crash...and bruise on my part... ;) 

She's also a bit more progressive than Gaston, who insists that her destiny is as his little wife...yet another similarity between the two of us. She loves to dance, is willing to look past appearances, and would do absolutely anything for her family. 

Plus, she sings ;)

My ideal romance went something along the lines of Beauty and the Beast. While I, of course, longed for a Prince, I didn't really care if he had a dark past, or was frightening, or caused others to run in terror, as long as there was something deeper, sweeter, underneath just waiting to be cultivated. 

Well, this lasted only until my first boyfriend. 

Within the first week or so of our relationship we had decided that we were Belle and the Beast. After all, I loved to read and adored adventure. He believed himself a monster, and had done unspeakable things, and I swore my love could save him the same way Belle's love transformed the Beast back into a Prince. 

A month into our relationship we had decided upon a Princess Bride themed wedding, and a honeymoon in Disney World disguised as Belle and Adam - which, if you don't know, is the Beast's proper name. 

A month and a half into the relationship, he sent me "If I Can't Love Her", from Beauty and the Beast Broadway, claiming that was the way he felt, and would always feel about me. I sent him "Something There", back. 

His nickname for me was angel, because he said that was the role I played in his life - that of an angel, encouraging him to keep fighting. I returned the favor by promptly nicknaming him alpha, playing along with our mutual love for wolves, and our Beauty and the Beast theme. 

He talked about our future together as though it was already settled, asked me to marry him, and we even discussed kids, where we'd live, what sort of wedding we'd have, where we'd have the honeymoon, and what to do with the in-laws. 

But, two months later, he went ahead and broke my heart after all. 

I spent hours trying to convince him he wasn't a monster, I loved him and would do anything for him, and that he wasn't irredeemable. He swore his undying love for me, promised he would wait as long as it took for us to be together, and that I was beautiful and worthy and he promised he loved me. 

I poured everything I had into him. Love, heart, emotions...soul, even. Because, after all, "a thing must be loved before it is lovable", right? He couldn't be expected to love me without me first loving him because he had never experienced true love before. His seriously abusive upbringing, his murder filled past, and the sordid things he had done all contributed to his "for who could ever learn to love a beast?" mindset. 

Well, silly, naive, little me thought I could. 

Boy, was I ever wrong! 

Because Beauty and the Beast is beautiful on screen, in animated characters, and far distant from reality. But in real life it doesn't work like that, and thinking your love can save a beast is such idiocy because when he leaves, you'll be broken. 

After he broke up the relationship because "it hurt too much" (whatever that means!), I was completely destroyed. Shattered. It was months before I could even genuinely smile again. It's been over a year since it all happened, and there are still days when the memories come around and knock me breathless with hurt, betrayal, and pain. I want to go back to my younger self, slap her soundly across the face, and tell her that Beauty and the Beast is just that. a beautiful myth. 

It's not true! 

There's a quote..."I cried over you, and I don't mean just shedding a few tears. I mean collapsing and screaming at the moon". That's about the adequate description of what happens when you're silly enough to think that your love can save a Beast. 

You don't save him. He ruins you. He destroys you. He breaks you. 

You become the very monster which you try to save him from, and internalize his pain, make it your own, and carry the staggering weight of it around with you for the rest of your life. And if you're unable to cope with the pain of his past, the betrayal he inflicted upon you, and the scars he carved into your heart, then what do you do? 

I don't want him to have ruined Beauty and the Beast for me forever, but I fear he might have. Instead of me saving him, I turned into a monster. The skills I used to cope with the pain he inflicted upon me both saved and destroyed me. It saved my life, and destroyed my future. 

And I don't know if I can ever look at that tale the same way again. Perhaps I'm just a foolish girl who doesn't know the difference between fairy tales and real life, but I hinged my entire future on the belief that Beauty and the Beast love stories could occur in real life, only to have it all dashed to pieces at a moments notice. 

I still adore it, but for me it will always be a bittersweet reminder that some things are not meant to be, and some loves are lies, and sometimes no matter how hard you try and how much you love, you cannot save people. 

You can't. 

You can only love them.

And pray to God it does not destroy you instead. 

Literary Heroes, Anyone? Oui? No?

I don't know about you, but my list of literary heroes is almost endless, and tends to grow at a rather alarming rate. 

Well, alarming to my siblings, at least, who are beyond sick of being forced to witness their sister obsessing over her latest literary crush - and yes, those are a thing.

So, while discussing the respective flaws and virtues of Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert, today, with a friend of mine, it occurred to me that a series enumerating my most favorite literary heroes - and possibly even heroines, later on - might be a fun diversion. 

What say you?

I write, you comment your thoughts, and we work our way through some splendid works of literature, from ancient to classic to modern. 

Shall we? 

For a Storm of a Girl

"I am not a nice girl. 
I am not sunshine and flowers and clear skies.
Rather, I am thunder and lightening and pouring down rain. 
I am a hurricane, and sometimes I terrify myself with the mess that I so often become. 
I am not easy to love, for I will push you away and refuse to let you love me, rather than wake up one morning to discover you dead - 
struck by my lightening, drowned in my river, deafened by my storm.”

—

s.v.

To Date or Not To Date...That is the Question.

I don't know about you, but I always find myself giving better advice to others than to myself.

For instance, I can help my friends navigate scenarios which daunt them, but when the same scenarios come my way, I am often at a loss for what to do, and spend countless hours agonizing over my faulty decision making.

I am also learning that all those books I read on how to deal with relationships, how to understand guys, and what to say and do in order to avoid a miscommunication are largely baloney.

They operate on the assumption that any interaction you have with males is limited at best, and assume that your sole purpose is to marry and have children.

Having never really dealt with my parents being willing to consider the possibility of me dating, the events of this past weekend rather took us unawares.

See, I'm not really sure what one does in circumstances where a boy who is three years older than you meets you because you sang at a fundraiser, and then the next day, asks you to prom.

I don't even know the kid!

The reactions from my respective family members, however, have been more than amusing!

My Dad poked holes in his story, and we discussed Prom and decided that since we don't know either him or his family, it's probably not the best idea....but he hasn't said no yet to a coffee date. After all, as Dad said, "At least he hasn't said God told him to marry you, yet!"unlike that last boy who asked me out. And Mom tends to agree with Dad.

My brother stalked his Facebook, of course, and decided that, well, at least he wants to ask my parents. I reminded my brother, though, that that doesn't mean a blessed thing. It could just mean that he's a good sweet talker.

My little brothers are positive that they want nothing to do with the whole idea of me dating anyone.

And my littlest sister swears that if I ever date someone she disapproves of - hint: she disapproves of him - she will never speak to me again. As she put it, "No guy could ever want to be with you as much as I do". Which I found immensely adorable, since she's exhibiting classic little sister behavior.

As for me? I'm afraid I rather don't know. My gut feeling is that something doesn't check out in the story he told me, but since I have no proof for that, I don't wish to be called a racist for not dating him. I have nothing against him personally, and couldn't care less that he's not white. Heck, neither am I!

But I am not sure I'm ready for a relationship. In moments of weakness, yes, I'm not insusceptible to wishing for a relationship, but if I do not know someone and they do not know me, and if they ask me out before getting to know me, it doesn't lead me to believe that they wish to get to actually know me - my thoughts, my fears, my hopes, my dreams - but rather makes me thing that they only want what they can get out of the relationship.

Additionally, I would have to know that whoever I dated could handle me, and I could handle them. I have no desire to make the mistakes I have made before, and get involved with someone who does not know what to do with me when I am not okay - and I am not okay quite often - or someone who refuses to let me help them when they are hurting.

I just don't know.

I wish I had the answers. And I wish the books I had read were of some use to me other than as kindling! ;)

Mum thinks I'm just trying to tell myself that I like him in order to avoid hurting his feelings. Which is quite possible.

Perhaps the most possible of all the options.

And I shall stop soliloquizing now ;)

Back to life!

A Worsening Sea - Fever

I've had what John Masefield terms "sea - fever" for quite as long as I can remember. I adore anything to do with 'ships and the open sea'. 

I am not quite sure how it came about. Perhaps from far too many readings of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, perhaps from our trip to Maine when I was all of seven years old, or perhaps simply because the sea is stunning.

But I especially adore ships.

Not only are they an excellent metaphor for life in general, but they are quite simply...beautiful. They are wild and free, running the crest of the waves, chasing the wind, and dancing with the ocean. 

Therefore, when I came across this poem a few weeks ago, I'm afraid I rather fell in love all over again. 

Enjoy! :) 

Sea Fever: 

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and sky

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by. 

And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking

And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking

I must go down to the seas again for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied. 

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying

And the flung spray and the blown spume and the sea - gulls flying

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life 

To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife 

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover

And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over. 

           -John Masefield