My husband, son, and I usually attend church at 4 pm on Saturday and then go out to eat. Last Saturday we went to church and then headed toward Zona Rosa. We chose a restaurant none or us had been to before. By the title, you can probably guess which one.
When we went in we were not greeted very warmly. As we waited for a table, I watched a girl at the host/hostess podium play with her long blonde hair. We were taken to a table and the silverware and menus were just placed in a pile in the middle of the table. After waiting for awhile for someone to come and at least ask us what we wanted to drink, I came to the conclusion that we were not going to get very good service if this was how the meal experience began. I mentioned this to my husband and son and it was decided that we would leave and find somewhere else to eat. Just as we got up to leave someone came to the table, but I just said we were going to go. We ended up eating at Stone Canyon Pizza, which was delicious and an enjoyable dining experience.
This morning I was reflecting on the experience at the first restaurant and realized it had an application to the church. When someone comes into a church, are they greeted warmly? Even if no one greets them immediately, is there a welcoming atmosphere?
At the restaurant I did not feel welcome, more like I was there and they needed to "do something with me." We had something to offer that restaurant - our money and our patronage - and they had something to offer us - hopefully good food and good service. Neither one of us got to experience what the other had to offer, though. It's like that in the church. The people who come have something to offer us and we have much to offer them. Let's not cut the experience short because we are too self-absorbed.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Precious in God's Sight
Eugenics: 1. the science of improving the human race by a careful selection of parents in order to develop healthier, more intelligent, and better children. 2. the science of improving offspring.
Today my husband, son, and I went to The National Archives at Kansas City (located next to Union Station) to view the exhibit Deadly Medicine - Creating the Master Race. It is a traveling exhibition from the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum presented by The Midwest Center for Holocaust Education. It is recommended that those attending be high school age or older because of the subject matter. I felt it would be important for my son to see it so he would be aware that this isn't something that was done only by the Nazis, but that it is still an issue in our world.
Before we really got started viewing the exhibit, we watched part of a video about experimentation by German doctors on children. The video gave us a taste of the things we were yet to see.
Germany was not the only country where eugenics was used. The United States had a law at one time that certain people were to be sterilized. People were encouraged to be "fit families." There was a good-sized book displayed that urged sterilization. Other countries were also involved in eugenics.
All of the exhibit was good, but the part where it really started to hit me was when I saw a picture of a mother and her daughter. The daughter, who looked very healthy, had been killed at the age of 6 after the Nazis decided to expand their use of euthanasia to older children. The policy had been previously only for children 3 and under. There were other pictures of children who had been euthanised as well.
Toward the end of the exhibit, it dealt with the use of gas to exterminate people. I read that the Nazis began gassing because mowing down people with gunfire proved to be too stressful for those doing the shooting.
Of all the doctors involved in the sterilization, euthanasia, and whatever else they perpetrated, very few seemed to have been convicted of any crimes. It seemed like most of them didn't even get a slap on the wrist. Thankfully, I didn't read of any of them coming to the United States like other scientists did.
I cannot describe to you the impact of this exhibit. I am not a writer, but I just wanted to share my impressions and encourage others to see for themselves. If you are like me, you will come away wondering where your thinking may be wrong and try to see others as precious in the sight of God.
Today my husband, son, and I went to The National Archives at Kansas City (located next to Union Station) to view the exhibit Deadly Medicine - Creating the Master Race. It is a traveling exhibition from the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum presented by The Midwest Center for Holocaust Education. It is recommended that those attending be high school age or older because of the subject matter. I felt it would be important for my son to see it so he would be aware that this isn't something that was done only by the Nazis, but that it is still an issue in our world.
Before we really got started viewing the exhibit, we watched part of a video about experimentation by German doctors on children. The video gave us a taste of the things we were yet to see.
Germany was not the only country where eugenics was used. The United States had a law at one time that certain people were to be sterilized. People were encouraged to be "fit families." There was a good-sized book displayed that urged sterilization. Other countries were also involved in eugenics.
All of the exhibit was good, but the part where it really started to hit me was when I saw a picture of a mother and her daughter. The daughter, who looked very healthy, had been killed at the age of 6 after the Nazis decided to expand their use of euthanasia to older children. The policy had been previously only for children 3 and under. There were other pictures of children who had been euthanised as well.
Toward the end of the exhibit, it dealt with the use of gas to exterminate people. I read that the Nazis began gassing because mowing down people with gunfire proved to be too stressful for those doing the shooting.
Of all the doctors involved in the sterilization, euthanasia, and whatever else they perpetrated, very few seemed to have been convicted of any crimes. It seemed like most of them didn't even get a slap on the wrist. Thankfully, I didn't read of any of them coming to the United States like other scientists did.
I cannot describe to you the impact of this exhibit. I am not a writer, but I just wanted to share my impressions and encourage others to see for themselves. If you are like me, you will come away wondering where your thinking may be wrong and try to see others as precious in the sight of God.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
In Missouri, But Not Of Missouri?
I was born in Michigan and probably always will be proud to call it the state of my birth. I actually don't remember living there, though.
When I was small, our family moved to Indiana. At that point it was just my parents, older brother and I. There was a toy store near our home and a dentist's office. I remember that there were used syringes in the trash behind the dentist's office. How that would be frowned on now! My brother and I walked to school across some major (or at least it seemed so then) streets. While we lived in Indiana, my younger brother was born. And I underwent some radiation treatment to erase a huge birthmark between my eyes. (I kid now that it was that procedure that made me odd.)
When I was in first grade, we moved to Tennessee. A family friend kidded that we would have one leg longer than the other from running around in the hills. My brother and I went to a country school where each teacher taught two grades. It was there I received my one and only school paddling. We were playing dentist and I used a pencil as a dental instrument. It was in Tennessee that I accepted Christ as my Savior on June 10, 1970. My youngest brother was born while we lived in Tennessee.
When I was in fourth grade, we moved to Pennsylvania. Our family began seeing a chiropractor and sure enough, I had one leg shorter than the other. We lived near the Susquehanna River, but we called it the Squashed Banana River. By this time I had come to the conclusion it was going to be me and three brothers. Not so. My one and only favorite sister was born about eight months before we moved away.
We arrived in Missouri (or Misery as I liked to call it) about a week before I started seventh grade. I didn't know anyone except my immediate family and the family we were living with until my parents could find us a house. We lived in a small town where many people were (and still are) related to each other. We were told to not talk about people because we would probably be talking to one of their relaives. It was tough going. I was shy and didn't have many friends.
In my early twenties, my older brother and I started attending a singles' Sunday school class in a larger town and that is when I started really making some friends and having some fun. Since then I've gotten married, had a child, and had my share of ups and downs. I have long since come to a place of peace about living here. Like every other state, it has it good points and bad points.
So I share all of that to say this: I have lived in Missouri for almost 35 years, the majority of my life. I have put down roots here. But I feel like a transplant, that I do not fully belong to Missouri. I don't know that I will ever completely claim it.
When I was small, our family moved to Indiana. At that point it was just my parents, older brother and I. There was a toy store near our home and a dentist's office. I remember that there were used syringes in the trash behind the dentist's office. How that would be frowned on now! My brother and I walked to school across some major (or at least it seemed so then) streets. While we lived in Indiana, my younger brother was born. And I underwent some radiation treatment to erase a huge birthmark between my eyes. (I kid now that it was that procedure that made me odd.)
When I was in first grade, we moved to Tennessee. A family friend kidded that we would have one leg longer than the other from running around in the hills. My brother and I went to a country school where each teacher taught two grades. It was there I received my one and only school paddling. We were playing dentist and I used a pencil as a dental instrument. It was in Tennessee that I accepted Christ as my Savior on June 10, 1970. My youngest brother was born while we lived in Tennessee.
When I was in fourth grade, we moved to Pennsylvania. Our family began seeing a chiropractor and sure enough, I had one leg shorter than the other. We lived near the Susquehanna River, but we called it the Squashed Banana River. By this time I had come to the conclusion it was going to be me and three brothers. Not so. My one and only favorite sister was born about eight months before we moved away.
We arrived in Missouri (or Misery as I liked to call it) about a week before I started seventh grade. I didn't know anyone except my immediate family and the family we were living with until my parents could find us a house. We lived in a small town where many people were (and still are) related to each other. We were told to not talk about people because we would probably be talking to one of their relaives. It was tough going. I was shy and didn't have many friends.
In my early twenties, my older brother and I started attending a singles' Sunday school class in a larger town and that is when I started really making some friends and having some fun. Since then I've gotten married, had a child, and had my share of ups and downs. I have long since come to a place of peace about living here. Like every other state, it has it good points and bad points.
So I share all of that to say this: I have lived in Missouri for almost 35 years, the majority of my life. I have put down roots here. But I feel like a transplant, that I do not fully belong to Missouri. I don't know that I will ever completely claim it.
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