It's not new news that obesity is a problem that's running rampant throughout our country and around the world, but it's certainly always interesting to see where our state ranks.

For me, this is the most alarming statistic in the entire article:

"Lack of exercise is a huge factor in obesity rates. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention found last year that more than 22 percent of Americans did not engage in any physical activity in the past month. "

Wow. So have you exercised today? This week? This month?

Take care.

Mississippi ranked fattest in the nation

Associated Press
Aug. 28, 2007 06:18 AM

JACKSON, Miss. - Mississippians need to skip the gravy, say no to the fried pickles and start taking brisk walks to fight an epidemic of obesity, experts say. According to a new study, this Deep South state is the fattest in the nation.

It also became the first state to crack the 30 percent barrier for adults considered obese, with West Virginia and Alabama just behind, according to the Trust for America's Health, a research group that focuses on disease prevention.

Aside from being a butt of late-night talk show jokes, the obesity epidemic has serious implications for public policy. If current trends hold, these states could face enormous increases in the already significant costs of treating diabetes, heart disease and other ailments related to extra weight. The leanest state in the rankings was Colorado, with an obesity rate projected at a much lower 17.6 percent.

"We've got a long way to go. We love fried chicken and fried anything and all the grease and fatback we can get in Mississippi," said Democratic state Rep. Steve Holland, chairman of the Public Health Committee.

Poverty and obesity often go hand in hand, doctors say, because poor families stretch their budgets by buying cheaper, processed foods that have higher fat content and lower nutritional value.

Former Arkansas Gov. Mike Huckabee - a self-described "recovering foodaholic" who lost 110 pounds and tried to put his entire state on a wellness plan - explained during a Southern Governors' Association meeting last weekend that there are historical reasons poor people often fry their foods: It's an inexpensive way to increase the calories and feed a family.

Lack of exercise is a huge factor in obesity rates. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention found last year that more than 22 percent of Americans did not engage in any physical activity in the past month. The percentage is greater than 30 percent in four states: Mississippi, Louisiana, Kentucky and Tennessee.

Mississippi's public schools already are taking steps to try to turn the trend around.

A new law requires at least 150 minutes of physical activity instruction and 45 minutes of health education instruction each week for students in kindergarten through 8th grade. Until now, gym class had been optional.

The state Department of Education also is phasing in restrictions on soft drinks and snacks.

All public schools are currently banned from selling full-calorie soft drinks to students. Next academic year, elementary and middle schools will allow only water, juice and milk, while high schools will allow only water, juice, sports drinks and diet soft drinks.

The state Department of Education publishes lists of snacks that are approved or banned for sale in school vending machines. Last school year, at least 50 percent of the vending offerings had to be from the approved list. That jumped to 75 percent this year and will reach 100 percent next year.

Among the approved snacks are yogurt, sliced fruit and granola bars, while fried pork rinds and marshmallow treats are banned. One middle school favorite - Flamin' Hot Cheetos - are on the approved list if they're baked but banned if they're not.

State Superintendent of Education Hank Bounds said he hopes students will take home the healthful habits.

"We only have students 180 days out of the year for seven hours in a school day. The important thing is that we model what good behavior looks like," he said Monday after finishing a lunch of baked chicken.

Bounds ate at a Jackson buffet that's popular with state legislators. The buffet included traditional, stick-to-your-ribs Southern fare: fried chicken, grits, fried okra, turnip greens.

Dr. William Rowley, who worked 30 years as a vascular surgeon and now works at the Institute for Alternative Futures, said if current trends continue, more than 50 percent of adult Mississippians will be obese in 2015.

Holland, who helps set the state Medicaid budget, said he worries about the taxpayers' cost of treating obesity.

"If we don't change our ways," he said, "we're going to be in the funeral parlors ... because we're going to be all fat and dead."

Here is the state-by-state breakdown of obesity rates, ranked from highest to lowest, released by Trust for America's Health:

Mississippi - 30.6

West Virginia - 29.8

Alabama - 29.4

Louisiana - 28.2

South Carolina - 27.8

Tennessee - 27.8

Kentucky - 27.5

Arkansas - 27.0

Indiana - 26.8

Michigan - 26.8

Oklahoma - 26.8

Missouri - 26.3

Texas - 26.3

Georgia - 26.1

Ohio - 26.0

Alaska - 25.8

North Carolina - 25.6

Nebraska - 25.4

North Dakota - 25.1

Iowa - 24.9

South Dakota - 24.9

Wisconsin - 24.8

Pennsylvania - 24.5

Virginia - 24.5

Illinois - 24.4

Maryland - 24.4

Kansas - 24.3

Minnesota - 23.7

Delaware - 23.6

Oregon - 23.3

Idaho - 23.2

Washington - 23.2

Maine - 23.0

Florida - 22.9

Wyoming - 22.8

California - 22.7

Nevada - 22.5

New Hampshire - 22.4

New York - 22.4

New Jersey - 22.2

New Mexico - 22.0

Arizona - 21.7 ---#42 (if I counted correctly!)

Utah - 21.1

Montana - 20.7

Rhode Island - 20.5

Connecticut - 20.1

Hawaii - 20.1

Vermont - 20.0

Massachusetts - 19.8

Colorado - 17.6

The BEST lunch spot

So, I'm going out on a limb here.

I was debating whether or not I should divulge where my new favorite lunch spot is, considering two things: a.) it's already pretty busy and b.) well, it's kinda mine.

After mulling it over a bit, I've decided to share the happy information with you.

Although it's not in the southeast valley, where most of my blog-reading friends are generally located, this place is worth it, simply because of its proximity to a fantastic bookstore.

Ready?

My new "favorite," is Wildflower Bread Company, situated right next door to The Changing Hands Bookstore off of McClintock and Guadalupe roads.

Yes, I know, it's a chain restaurant, but it's a good one.

I think this was the first full hour I've ever taken for lunch, and when I left, I actually felt refreshed. Shocking, I know, but read on.

If you've never been to Changing Hands, it's slightly granola-y. Lots of New Age kinda stuff, where many of its clients bring their own cloth book bags and peruse volumes of texts focusing on topics (I'd guess) like homeopathic treatments, and being "eco-friendly." True, this is a bit of a generalization, but that's what I'm writing so if you don't like it, go read one of the fantastic ones listed on the right.

Anyway, there's something about a bookstore-- especially a quiet one-- that can just put you in a better mood, even if you don't buy a single thing. Just to see the hundreds of books that countless authors poured their time, finances and creativity into is amazing. I'm in awe of people who take the giant leap into authorship. I'd love to do it someday, but I'm waiting on God to give me a divine revelation on what to write about. After all, what's the point of writing a book if you have no audience or large group of people willing to plunk down $15 to read your random thoughts and beliefs?

That's why I'm sticking to the blog for now---it's free :)

So I wandered around for a while and was bummed to discover that there really wasn't any writing stationary there. I've been dying to find some pretty paper to scribble letters on for all of my pen pals, but no luck so far.

I almost bought a book by C.S. Lewis that was tossed on a shelf in the used book sale section in the back of the store, but decided against it, given my recent determination to cut back on spending. I need to start going to the library---how did I forget about that place anyway?

When my time was up, I left the bookstore, bidding a "farewell" to my newfound friend. I hope to visit her again soon...


I'm sure this is a big let down for all of you-- my "place" is not all that fancy or even that exciting. Still, you'd be amazed at the kind of refuge I found today away from the buzz of the phones, obnoxious conversations and work-randomness.

Hope you find your refuge or favorite spot.

Just don't take over mine :)

This is a really interesting article. Thanks, Obadiah, for sending it my way! The only slightly alarming thing I saw was this: "Sixty-eight percent agree with the statement, 'I follow my own religious and spiritual beliefs, but I think that other religious beliefs could be true as well.'"

AP Poll: God vital to young Americans

By ERIC GORSKI and TREVOR TOMPSON, Associated Press Writers Fri Aug 24, 8:47 AM ET

Among America's young people, godliness contributes to happiness.

An extensive survey by The Associated Press and MTV found that people aged 13 to 24 who describe themselves as very spiritual or religious tend to be happier than those who don't.

When it comes to spirituality, American young people also are remarkably tolerant — nearly 7 in 10 say that while they follow their own religious or spiritual beliefs, others might be true as well.

On the whole, the poll found religion is a vital part of the lives of many American young people, although with significant pockets that attach little or no importance to faith.

Forty-four percent say religion and spirituality is at least very important to them, 21 percent responded it is somewhat important, 20 percent say it plays a small part in their lives and 14 percent say it doesn't play any role.

Among races, African-Americans are most likely to describe religion as being the single most important thing in their lives. Females are slightly more religious than males, and the South is the most religious region, the survey said.

The poll's mission was to figure out what makes young people happy. And it appears religion helps.

Eighty percent of those who call religion or spirituality the most important thing in their lives say they're happy, while 60 percent of those who say faith isn't important to them consider themselves happy.

"If you believe God is helping you, then everything else isn't as important and you can trust that there's somebody there for you no matter what," said Molly Luksik, a 21-year-old ballet dancer in Chicago and a Roman Catholic who attends Mass weekly. "Just going to church and everything ... it's very calming, and everyone is nice."

Sociologists have long drawn a connection between happiness and the sense of community inherent to most religious practice. Lisa Pearce, an assistant professor of sociology at the University of North Carolina, said religion can indeed contribute to happiness, but she cautioned that the converse also can hold true.

"It's easier for kids who are happy and have things going well in their life to find the time and energy to participate in religion," said Pearce, co-principal investigator for the National Study of Youth and Religion. "It could be kids who have bad experiences in church end up leaving and being unhappy with religion."

The poll also asked young people to choose between two statements about their views of other faiths.

Sixty-eight percent agree with the statement, "I follow my own religious and spiritual beliefs, but I think that other religious beliefs could be true as well." Thirty-one percent choose, "I strongly believe that my religious beliefs are true and universal, and that other religious beliefs are not right."

The latter statement is more likely to be the position of young teens — 13 to 17 — and those who attend religious services weekly.

However, tolerance is the rule overall. That doesn't surprise the Rev. Paul Raushenbush, associate dean for religious life at Princeton University and author of "Teen Spirit: One World, Many Faiths."

Young people eat lunch and play soccer with peers from other belief backgrounds, while adults tend to self-segregate with others of like mind, he said. Sweeping immigration reform in 1965 transformed America into the world's most religiously diverse nation, and young people grew up with the second generation of the immigrant wave, he noted.

"This shows that it doesn't require a lack of conviction in your own faith tradition to think someone else might have a similar type of conviction in their own," Raushenbush said. "There is no sense of, 'This diminishes my faith.'"

Traci Laichter, 14, went to Jewish preschool. Her grandparents are Holocaust survivors. Her family keeps kosher and displays a mezuzah — a little box holding verses from the Torah — on the door of their suburban Las Vegas home.

Her faith is strong and she believes it will last, but that doesn't mean she thinks other faiths are devoid of truth.

"I believe whatever you believe is true to you and it really shouldn't matter what other people think," she said.

About 75 percent of those surveyed say God or a higher power has some impact on their happiness. At the same time, 90 percent believe happiness is at least partly under their own control.

"I think you do have control over how you are going to feel on a particular day," said David Mueller of Lockport, N.Y., a 20-year-old college student who attends an evangelical Christian megachurch called The Chapel.

"When it comes to events in your whole life, it's already somewhat laid out for you," he said. "You can stray off to another path. But where God wants you to go, you are going to get there."

___

The AP-MTV poll was conducted by Knowledge Networks Inc. from April 16 to 23, and involved online interviews with 1,280 people aged 13 to 24. It had a margin of sampling error of plus or minus 3 percentage points.

AP News Survey Specialist Dennis Junius contributed to this report.

I've got my iPod absolutely cranking right now to drown out office conversations.

Seriously---why do people think it's even REMOTELY appropriate to talk about their sex lives or anything else in earshot of the boss or whoever else?!

I'm so tired of being subjected to such disgusting, worthless, crap....

What would you do?

Thank goodness for my iPod. It's now my new best buddy...

I'll admit it. I'm a "Zonie" as the article below dubs us Arizonans who like to invade the beaches of San Diego from time to time. Apparently, we take over the area during the summer months...and who wouldn't? Enjoy the beautiful weather, spend a few bucks on a relatively short jaunt, and never worry about buying overpriced real estate? C'mon! It's a no-brainer.

I was just there in June for the Rock N Roll Marathon (finished in 5 hours, thank-you-very-much) and had an awesome time. My limbs were a bit too sore to stick around for the beach or really anything else, but it was the perfect weather and locale for the event. Someday I'll definitely go back---can't get enough of SD in the O.C. :)

So check this out. The article appeared in the NY Times, but was reported by a San Diego Journal writer...


San Diego Journal

The Weather’s Fine, Hence the Invasion From Arizona

Monica Almeida/The New York Times

San Diego has long drawn summer visitors from Arizona like Richard Holland and his 11-year-old daughter, Haley, of Phoenix.

By RANDAL C. ARCHIBOLD

Published: August 22, 2007

SAN DIEGO — Bulletin: Phoenix and Tucson have been evacuated because of summer heat and monsoonal moisture. The emergency shelter is here, or so it seems, for the displaced Arizonans.

Here they come, seemingly all of southern Arizona — Zonies in the local vernacular — with their children, their friends, their cars, their strange folkways, a mass exodus from one kind of sand to another, as if propelled by desert winds into ocean breezes.

Make that hot desert winds. “Because it’s like a thousand degrees in Phoenix,” said Haley Holland, 11, walking in from a morning on the beach as her father and friends sipped drinks on the deck of their rental cottage atop the Crystal Pier.

The joke in Arizona is that if you are trying to find your friend in July or August, look on the beach here. In some hotels, three-quarters or more of the summer guests are Arizonans, who fly one hour or drive five or six to exchange triple-digit temperatures for San Diego’s breeze-kissed 70s and 80s.

“You can sit on this sand and not burn your butt off,” said Jim Phelps of Phoenix, who regularly settles into an oceanfront hotel.

Calling them Zonies is done with only the utmost affection, of course: the bad driving, crowded beaches and restaurants, jammed parking lots, clueless ocean swimming, touristy attire and endless requests for directions.

“Zonies go home” bumper stickers are a thing of years past, or so says the San Diego Convention and Visitors Bureau, which smiles through the invasion.

Arizonans account for 11 percent of overnight visitors, more than any other state but California. They spend $970 million annually, a hefty chunk of the $6.9 billion in annual tourist spending.

Or as Richard Holland, Haley’s father, put it: “They loan us their city for a couple of months, we pay them to enjoy it, we leave. It’s a nice deal.”

All the economic support, Mr. Holland suggested, justifies any inconvenience he and his lot may impose. “When I cut across seven lanes of traffic to make that exit in 100 yards or less, I figure my Arizona plates give me diplomatic immunity,” he said.

The ribbing follows the longstanding American tradition practiced by residents of many tourist zones, to poke fun at visitors and blame them for ills (think of the “bennies,” a term of disputed origin, that Jersey Shore residents gripe about all summer).

The San Diego-Arizona connection, though, pits two fast-growing Sun Belt regions jockeying for stature. It seemed easier to make fun of Phoenix before it surpassed San Diego in population, in 1997, according to the Census Bureau. Phoenix is now the nation’s fifth-largest city, with 1.5 million residents, and San Diego the eighth, with 1.26 million, the latest census estimates say.

David Moye, a San Diego writer who has blogged about the annoyances posed by Zonies (as a teenager, the Zonie girls didn’t always go for “townies” like him, he said), attributed picking on Arizonans as an effort by San Diegans to feel superior.

“There is a lot of angst, aggression, seething personalities among natives, partly because we are always in the shadow of L.A.,” Mr. Moye said.

“When you have good weather all the time,” he added, “you have to find something to be cranky about, if you can’t blame the weather.”

Jason Smith, a waiter in Coronado, just across the San Diego Bay, said the Arizonans were “nice enough” — got to keep those tips coming — but “sometimes they act like they are locals, like they’ve been coming here so long they feel like they own the place and don’t care if they crowd the natives out.”

And they have been coming for a long time.

Of course, there is also somewhat of a reverse flow; legions of Southern Californians have relocated to southern Arizona, seeking relief from exorbitant housing costs. And Phoenicians and Tucsonans have been known to make sport of “snowbirds” descending on their region from the Midwest and the East in the winter.

Nicole Nottoli, proprietor of the Big Kahuna’s ice cream stand on the Pacific Beach boardwalk here, estimates 60 percent of her business comes from Arizonans, and she can easily pick them out.

“Those big hats, touristy dress, pale skin,” Ms. Nottoli said.

And there is the matter of air-conditioning. Arizonans just love it; coastal San Diegans prefer the natural kind. So imagine the looks when the Zonies ask for the AC to be turned on or up at restaurants and hotels — and then search for the heat when the “bone-chilling” nighttime temperature dips below 70.

Mr. Phelps pleads guilty. He said he was staying in one of the few oceanfront hotels that provide air-conditioning: “That’s the reason I like that place.”

As he and his friends talked and joked in a shopping mall elevator recently, a longtime San Diegan turned and asked, “You’re from Arizona, aren’t you?”

“We still don’t know how she knew,” said Mr. Phelps, who, for the record, was wearing a dark print shirt tucked into khaki shorts that, well, did not quite completely blend in with the T-shirts-and-jammers crowd.

Yes, finally---a new look. I'm still playing with it and need to figure out how to put links on here, but I'll get there eventually...

So I ran across this article in the New York Times regarding one school district's approval of teaching about homosexuality in sex education classes in middle school. I definitely don't agree with the addition of this lesson, and I also wonder if they've offered an "opt out" to parents who don't want their children exposed to this. I wonder if this is something I should expect my child to be exposed to someday in the public school system, if we choose to send him/her there.

We can't necessarily change the culture, but we can certainly stand up for what we believe in.

So what do you think? Has this gone too far? What would you do if you heard that your local school district could approve something like this?

Lessons on Homosexuality Move Into the Classroom- NY TIMES

Published: August 15, 2007

ROCKVILLE, Md.

After five years, one legal defeat and a challenge on the way, Montgomery County, Md., is at the frontier of sex education in the United States. This fall, barring last-minute court action, the county will offer lessons on homosexuality in its 8th- and 10th-grade health education courses.

To school officials, the lessons are a natural outgrowth of sex education and of teachings on tolerance and diversity. They consist of two heavily scripted, 45-minute lessons for each grade and a video demonstrating how to put on a condom. The lessons’ central message is respect and acceptance of the many permutations of sexual identity, both in others and in one’s self.

School officials said they were not seeking to promote a political agenda, beyond tolerance and a kind of cultural literacy. “Our charge starts with educating students,” said Betsy Brown, who supervised the curriculum’s development in consultation with the American Academy of Pediatrics. “This is part of education.”

But critics, who have filed lawsuits seeking to stop the lessons, contended that the Montgomery County schools, just north of Washington, have gone too far. John Garza, president of the Citizens for a Responsible Curriculum, a group leading the opposition, said parents can block television shows they deem morally questionable, “but then we have the schoolteacher affirming unhealthy behavior.”

Montgomery is a mostly well-educated, politically liberal enclave. But opponents of the new curriculum, portrayed as a vocal minority by school officials, may be more in sync with the mood of parents nationally.

According to a 2004 national poll by the Kaiser Family Foundation, Harvard University’s Kennedy School of Government and National Public Radio, roughly three out of four parents say it is appropriate for high schools to teach about homosexuality, but about half say it is appropriate in middle school.

WHEN asked about the issue in greater detail, more than 50 percent of high school and middle school parents supported teaching what homosexuality is about “without discussing whether it is wrong or acceptable.” Only 8 percent of high school parents and 4 percent of middle school parents said schools should teach “that homosexuality is acceptable.” The survey had a margin of error of 6 percentage points.

Montgomery County may be ahead of the country on sex education, but it may also just be out there, stranded on its own.

The controversy illustrates how fraught the road can be for educators who venture beyond academics to influence students about sensitive social issues, risking not just lawsuits, but also losing step with parents and voters. In New York City, the controversy 14 years ago over the “rainbow curriculum,” which included the book “Heather Has Two Mommies” as a first-grade text, cost Chancellor Joseph A. Fernandez his job.

“It’s a myth that our schools don’t teach values about lots of things,” said Debra W. Haffner, director of the Religious Institute on Sexual Morality, Justice and Healing, which promotes discussions about sexuality. “We don’t put communism, socialism and capitalism on an equal footing in our classes on government.”

But for a raft of reasons, many of them unconscious, teaching about sexuality is different, said Susan K. Freeman, a historian at Minnesota State University, Mankato.

For many parents, boy-girl dating may not mean that their child is sexually active, she said. By coming out as gay, though, “they’re announcing their sexuality.” Parents make a tacit assumption of sexual activity, and “that presents a problem for a lot of people,” she said.

The Montgomery County lessons begin by defining terms like “prejudice,” “homosexual” and “transgender,” and warn students not to assume that because they are not yet attracted to the opposite sex, they must be gay. The eighth-grade curriculum tells gay students that “concerns about how family and friends will accept the situation are reasonable, and fears about being teased or even attacked are not unfounded.”

In the 10th grade, the lessons, which presume that sexual identity is innate, again discuss the stresses of coming out, but add, “Many people who are gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender celebrate their self-discovery.”

Kevin Jennings, the executive director of the New York-based Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network, said the curriculum could reduce bullying over sexual identity.

“I don’t know how denying information to young people about sexuality or sexual orientation does anything to promote their health and well being,” he said.

Mr. Garza objected to schools teaching that homosexuality is not subject to change and failing to mention higher rates of some venereal diseases among gay men. “When you get into these hotly contested areas of moral judgment, that’s where the school needs to get out of it, or at least teach all sides,” he said.

Burdened
jp 08/20/07

The weight of the world
Rests firmly on her shoulders,
No time to turn back now
Gotta add a few more boulders.

Up the hill of darkness
She climbs wearily to the edge,
Looks deep into the pit
Of loneliness, feet creeping toward the ledge.

Her smile can fool you
Like the Queen of Hearts,
She seems mostly happy
But she’s only playing a part.

Inside, there’s a place
Just yearning to be filled,
Somewhere along the way
She thought the Light had been killed.

But all along it’s waited
Burning dimly among the shadows,
A strength waiting to be discovered
To bring freedom from the gallows.

Still she will trudge on
Oblivious to this source,
Bearing her burdens without hope
Without direction on her course.

Someday I hope she finds her way
Back to lighted ground,
Free from weighted shoulders
Free from hands bound.

Until that day I’ll wait
And pray for one more call,
To bring her back to the place
Once traveled by one Saul.

An interesting controversy is stirring across the nation regarding the installation of "foot baths" to accommodate Muslim college students. I think both sides of the debate have valid points.
What do you think? Read it for yourself:

Education

Universities Install Footbaths to Benefit Muslims, and Not Everyone Is Pleased

By TAMAR LEWIN
NY Times

Published: August 7, 2007

As the nation’s Muslim population grows, issues of religious accommodation are becoming more common, and more complicated.

DEARBORN, Mich. — When pools of water began accumulating on the floor in some restrooms at the University of Michigan-Dearborn, and the sinks pulling away from the walls, the problem was easy to pinpoint. On this campus, more than 10 percent of the students are Muslims, and as part of ritual ablutions required before their five-times-a-day prayers, some were washing their feet in the sinks.

The solution seemed straightforward. After discussions with the Muslim Students’ Association, the university announced that it would install $25,000 foot-washing stations in several restrooms.

But as a legal and political matter, that solution has not been quite so simple. When word of the plan got out this spring, it created instant controversy, with bloggers going on about the Islamification of the university, students divided on the use of their building-maintenance fees, and tricky legal questions about whether the plan is a legitimate accommodation of students’ right to practice their religion — or unconstitutional government support for that religion.

“It’s an awkward thing,” said Alexis Oesterle, a junior. “If I’m sitting with Muslim friends, I wouldn’t want to bring it up. In this country, at this time, it’s not so easy to discuss the issues of Muslims in American society.”

As the nation’s Muslim population grows, issues of religious accommodation are becoming more common, and more complicated. Many public school districts are grappling with questions about prayer rooms for Muslim students, halal food in cafeterias and scheduling around important Muslim holidays. As Muslim students point out, the school calendar already accommodates Christians, with Sundays off and vacations around Christmas and Easter.

“Starting about two years ago, school attorneys have been asking more and more questions about accommodations for Muslim students,” said Lisa Soronen, a National School Boards Association lawyer. “These issues don’t get litigated very often; they’re usually worked out one by one.”

Nationwide, more than a dozen universities have footbaths, many installed in new buildings. On some campuses, like George Mason University in Virginia, and Eastern Michigan University in Ypsilanti, Mich., there was no outcry. At Eastern Michigan, even some Muslim students were surprised by the appearance of the footbath — a single spigot delivering 45 seconds of water — in a partitioned corner of the restroom in the new student union.

“My sister told me about it, and I didn’t believe it,” said Najla Malaibari, a graduate student at Eastern Michigan. “I was, ‘No way,’ and she said, ‘Yeah, go crazy.’ It really is convenient.”

But after a Muslim student at Minneapolis Community and Technical College slipped and hurt herself last fall while washing her feet in a sink, word got out there that the college was considering installing a footbath, and a local columnist accused the college of a double standard — stopping a campus coffee cart from playing Christmas music but taking a different attitude toward Islam.

“After the column, a Christian conservative group issued an action alert to its members, which prompted 3,000 e-mail and 600 voice messages to me and/or legislators,” said Phil Davis, president of the college.

Mr. Davis said that after a legal briefing, the board concluded that installing footbaths was constitutional, and that the college hoped to have a plan in place by the next school year.

Here in Dearborn, the university called the footbaths a health and safety measure, not a religious decision. And it argued that while the footbaths may benefit Muslim students, they will be available to others, like lacrosse players who want to wash their feet.

Still, the plans are controversial.

“My first reaction was, ‘Where’s the money coming from?’ ” said Emily Hutfloetz, a senior. “I feel like it’s favoring one group of people.”

On her Web site, Debbie Schlussel, a conservative lawyer and blogger in Southfield, Mich., posted, “Forget about the Constitutionally mandated separation of church and state ... at least when it comes to mosque and state.”

And in an editorial, the student newspaper, The Michigan Journal, worried that opponents would turn their hostility “on Muslim students at the university and Islam as a whole.

Hal Downs, president of the Michigan chapter of Americans United for Separation of Church and State, said, “The university claims it’s available for Western students as well, but, traditionally, Western students don’t wash their feet five times day.”

“They’re building a structure for a particular religious tradition,” Mr. Downs added, “and the Constitution says the government isn’t supposed to endorse a particular religion.”

The American Civil Liberties Union says the footbath issue is complex.

“Our policy is to object whenever public funds are spent on any brick and mortar component of religion,” said Kary Moss, director of the Michigan Civil Liberties Union. “What makes this different, though, is that the footbaths themselves can be used by anyone, don’t have any symbolic value and are not stylized in a religious way. They’re in a regular restroom, and could be just as useful to a janitor filling up buckets, or someone coming off the basketball court, as to Muslim students.”

Then, too, Ms. Moss said, the health and safety component is not normally part of religious accommodation cases.

“This came from the maintenance staff, which was worried about the wet floors,” she said. “We were also aware that if the university said students could not wash their feet in the sink anymore, that could present a different civil liberties problem, interfering with Muslim students’ ability to practice their religion.”

Some Muslim students seem bothered by the controversy, saying they might not have considered footbaths worth fighting for.

“I think this was the school’s way to try to draw more Muslims, by showing that they were welcoming,” said Zahraa Aljebori, a sophomore at Dearborn, who said she never even washed her feet in the sink.

As at other campuses, Dearborn’s Muslim Students’ Association chapter has pushed for, and won, halal food and a “reflection room,” used mostly for Muslim prayers, but occasionally by Christian groups. But it did not ask for the footbaths, said Farhan Latif, a graduate student and adviser to the group.

“The idea came from the administration, and we were consulted,” Mr. Latif said. “And we were surprised at the hate mail that came in after it got into the media.”

Juarez, Mexico: Part IX

The end of the week came in almost a blink of an eye. We had our final day of work projects and VBS and dragged ourselves back to the dorm, feeling tired and hungry. Our final evening was to be spent at an extreme sports park in the main part of the city before we headed back for the last small group of the trip.

I spent most of that night talking with Delfina, the pastor's wife and playing with one of their daughters, Melody. The little girl played on the "big" playground and asked me to swing beside her on the creaky swing set. We swung higher and higher and as we did, her grin grew bigger and bigger.

I pointed to the large ants crawling beneath our seats as we finally slowed down to a stop. "Como se dice?" I asked the girl (literal translation: what does one call this?)

"Hormegas," she said, and I continued to our conversation on that note.

I took in that moment in the park, realizing there were likely only a few more left for the week. Here I was in Mexico, building incredible relationships and just enjoying my time with them. No cleaning, no cooking, no formal job to get up and go to. Just simply loving on the families and children. Bliss.

After our time at the park, we headed back to the dorm covered in dirt and grime, as usual. It was 9 p.m. and time for the final activity of the week that all of the leaders knew about: feet washing.

I wondered how all of it would go, considering my recent conversations with several girls in the group. While chatting about a past pedicure, I had several girls tell me about how much they hated for people to touch their feet.

Boy, were they in for a treat tonight, I thought.

We all sat in the circle as the California pastor talked about the story of Jesus washing the disciples feet. The one thing that stuck with me is that he used the story to illustrate the fact that Jesus served those with whom he was closest. Yes, he served others outside of this group, but his most intimate gesture, the most humble gesture he gave was for his close friends and companions.

So the leaders began the foot washing. We removed each others dirty shoes and socks and washed each others' feet in a white, plastic basin and dried them with a hand towel. When our feet had been washed, we went back to our seats. As one person finished, another from the group would walk up and assume the foot washer position.

It was an amazing sight to see---big, burly football players washing the feet of guys they'd probably not speak to in the normal high school setting. Girls washing the feet of others whom they hadn't even spent time with during the week.

It's an activity that makes you more introspective about your life, how you treat others, and more importantly, fellow believers. Do you humble yourself and serve them or complain that they're not pulling their weight at the church? Do you forgive them even though they've wronged you? Do you give them a chance even though they seem like they have a polar opposite personality to yours?

The foot washing activity was supposed to happen in the middle of the week, and I know those who put it on were disappointed that it didn't happen at the time they had originally anticipated, but it was obvious to me that God had saved it last for a reason.

We were to leave there with this message: Yes, to love is to serve. We're called to love others and serve others, but how much more should we serve our fellow brother or sister in Christ?

Juarez, Mexico: Part VIII

It was the end of the week and we were all tired.
The heat, combined with a busy schedule, and little sleep in some cases, was definitely setting in.

After working at VBS all morning and then grabbing lunch and dinner at our dorm, we headed back out into the dusty streets to an evangelistic event organized by Ramon's church.

We met at the "park" or rather, what they called a park.

It was an uneven, dirt field in the middle of a neighborhood. Children brought their soccer balls and dogs to the park to play the beloved game and hang out.

Ramon's wife, Delfina, pulled their van forward and we began unloading equipment. The church's karaoke machine and mics, stacks of chairs, and a pop-up shade structure were set up to stage our outreach.

We performed a dance and a skit for the group of church members in attendance, and other members of my team lead worship.

It didn't seem like many people outside of the church had come.

Ramon began his sermon, speaking to the people in their houses.

He told them that he knew there were people in their homes at that moment who had poor marriages, were struggling with addictions and their children were out on the streets, involved in gangs and violence.

He told them his story of redemption, when he met Christ for the first time.

As he finished his powerful speech, he told the leaders and our group that we were to pray for anyone who asked for it, to gather around them when they stood.

He asked "if there's anyone here who wants to begin a personal relationship with Christ---this is not about religion or doing the right things---we will pray for you."

An old woman in the back stood, a few tears running down her cheeks. All of our team gathered around her and I walked over, as well.

Ramon prayed a general prayer in Spanish and then was silent.
No one in our group said a word.

I began praying the best that I could in Spanish. The words that kept coming to my mind were "Come, Lord into this woman's heart. Give her peace and help her to know you better."

When we were finished, I hugged her and she smiled, tears still coming down her face.

I never got to ask her if this was her first time committing her life to Christ, but I could tell that she had been touched.

Though I couldn't connect with her completely on a language level, my heart could feel her desire and her pain.

I might not know her name, but I'm going to continue to pray for her and others in Juarez, who have yet to meet Christ.

I know there have been quite a few of these entries, but hang in there....

My lesson

Aside from doing so much translating, one other event weighed on my during the trip: teaching a lesson to the entire group.

At the beginning of the week, all of the leaders for the trip met together to go over the schedule:

Breakfast 8 a.m. Leave at 9/9:30 a.m. Begin working and/or VBS at 10 a.m. Return to church at 2 p.m. for lunch. Hang out for a few hours. Dinner at 5 p.m. Out for park outreach at 7 p.m. Home by 9 p.m. for small group study and a lesson.

"So, who wants to volunteer to teach a lesson this week?" our trip leader asked the group.

Though the leaders were mostly male, we did still have four female leaders, as well.

One by one, male leaders volunteered to take on the lessons.

With only one night left to claim, the group was silent.

I volunteered, even though it was something I knew would be a challenge.

The previous year I had gone on a trip to Northern Ireland with the same youth outreach organization. I was no longer a leader once we were sent to our various locations throughout the country. This was especially difficult for me when we faced huge challenges in our leadership and I had to stay out of it for the most part and just play a supporting role for the rest of the team.

On that trip, I learned to support my leaders while also helping to bring cohesion to the team.

That meant stepping up when others wouldn't.

In Northern Ireland, I had my first experience teaching a large group mostly because others didn't want to volunteer. I felt anxious in the days leading up to the talk because I was worried about what to say.

In the end, God gave me the words.

Still, in Mexico I had my doubts; my own insecurities.

The kids I spoke to in Northern Ireland didn't have personal relationships with Christ. It was all about outreach and delivering the message then.

This group I was going to teach to had personal relationships with God and certainly strong ones in most cases. Very intimidating.

I felt like Timothy. What did I have to offer?

Despite my insecurities, the whole week leading up to Thursday night, I prayed and I read my Bible, asking for the right message, not my own.

I feel like God gave me the right one and also used my ability to tell stories to also capture the interest of the tired group members.

I finished the group that night feeling relieved and also encouraged.

The lesson I learned that night is one that I've been in the process of learning for probably the past year. Interestingly enough, it was best summed up in the movie "Evan Almighty."

"God" tells Evan's family that "People pray for patience, but God doesn't just give you patience---he gives you opportunities to exercise patience."

It's in those times that I have to depend on God for His strength and for His peace that I'm given the opportunity for my faith to grow. I learn to depend on Him more.

At times I indeed feel timid about sharing my beliefs with others, or staying the course that God has set out for me, but I'm reminded of these times out on my short-term mission trips when God has moved in amazing ways, simply because I got out of His way and let Him use me.

Interesting article:
"What would Jesus Drive?"

http://www.liveearth.msn.com/green/wwjd

Check it out...

"Yen, let me tell you something."

Pastor Ramon put his arm around my shoulders as we walked out of the supermercado.

We had just completed a task of buying as many items as we could for only $5. Our guide was a short grocery list with everything written in Spanish.

"Que paso, Ramon?" I asked.

"You, you have blessed me and my family. You are my favorite, you know that?" he told me.

I was flattered.

I hadn't really done much other than love his children and talk with his wife, Delfina.

"Gracias, Ramon."

He continued.

"You are here," he touched his chest. "In my heart always, you remember. You are my daughter."

I nearly cried, I was so touched.

To be adopted by a family you hardly know is something amazing, especially when you're just loving without expectations.

I had felt insecure about my Spanish abilities around most people there, but especially Ramon and his family. I was trying my best, but as a person whose job is to communicate a message to others, not being able to communicate as effectively or as eloquently as I wanted was extremely frustrating and difficult.

We walked out of the grocery store and laid all of the items on the concrete sidewalk near the entrance.

Soap. Toothpaste. Cooking oil. Vegetables. Rice. Beans....

Most of us were able to buy more than 8 food staples using only 5 American dollars.

It made me look at my Starbucks Frappaccino back home a lot differently, that's for sure.

After the items were divvied up, our small groups grabbed two grocery bags and loaded back onto the bus.

We sat on the bus for 30 or so minutes as we traveled to a poor Colonial across town.

When we arrived, they told us to stay with our groups and wander the sand-covered streets until we felt led to give one of our bags to a family.

The homes were broken in many cases. Floors were dirt and fortunate homeowners had block walls. Others used whatever materials they could scrounge up to create their homes.

It took us a while to find a family that was home or willing to accept our groceries. I was frustrated by the end of the exercise, wondering if people were just used to groups traveling here and giving out bags such as these.

I was nearly sent over the top when we were asked to pose for a picture near the bus, while homeowners from the community rifled through a box of clothing and shoes nearby.

Taking a picture near such poverty felt as if we were exploiting the situation and saying "look where we are and look what we did."

It wasn't until our trip leader asked us to be quiet and look around that reality and my focus shifted.

A boy, about 6 years old, shifted clothes in one box from one side to the other. Finally, he pulled out one bright green flip flop.

He held it up, and then smacked it against the palm of his other hand. He looked at it for a minute, then shoved it in a box at his feet.

He didn't even have the mate for it.

I don't know why he decided to keep the bright green flip flop, but it certainly hit me hard. If I had found one bright green flip flop at home, I would've thrown it away. What would I do with one bright green flip flop?

The barefoot boy then turned away from where we were and walked back down the road where power line wires laid exposed on the ground.

Youth ministry vs. children's ministry

Juarez, Mexico: Part V

Fast forward a few days...

Vacation Bible school was a hit. Telling our story by using Spanish children's books depicting the story of Queen Esther was definitely the route to go. The kids made crowns for the art project and-- of course-- wanted more jewels for them, but supplies was limited.

With the kids, I could speak in my broken Spanish and not fear too many strange looks. They'd just smile and wait a little longer for me to get my message out. Being that my language skills lie somewhere in the elementary level, I was the perfect communicator for the age group we worked with.

It was my first VBS---ever. Initially, I was a little worried. I mean, working with little kids is just, well, different than working with teens. You have to communicate differently.

But it wasn't a bad change, I realized.

With children, you can love on them--hug them, turn them upside down, and play "pato, pato, ganzo" (duck, duck, goose)---and be given the biggest grins in return. In youth ministry, you usually get a blank stare or "the look" when you try to love on them (in different ways, of course). Okay, that's a generalization, but true much of the time.

I decided to stay at VBS the rest of the week.

During my week of adventures, I bonded with Melody, the youngest daughter of the church's pastoral family. I called her my "mono"--monkey because she loved being dipped upside-down and swung side to side. A fake tattoo of "Donkey" (Shrek) that I found in a Doritos bag thrilled her to no end (she got her sister to put it on her immediately), and hugged me around the legs saying "es de mio" (she's mine) when other kids where fighting for my attention. It was certainly flattering and also such a pure act of love that I don't get to experience too often.

Then there was Daniel. Daniel was the biggest goofball I'd almost EVER met. He taught all the children the "goose dance" when they couldn't win at duck, duck, goose. (I'll have to post the video--he's hilarious!) We had our own little handshake and could play a hand-slapping game for hours after VBS ended each day. He truly gave me that much more to look forward to every day when I went to the church.

I began to see why many in the church choose children's ministry over youth ministry. You get that reaction, that pure loving reaction almost immediately. You know you're the authority over them and can guide them in a way they can't at that age. Youth ministry can leave you feeling a bit insecure and wondering if you're affecting any change.

Perhaps my experience in Mexico gave me a "grass is greener" perspective. Either way, I know God has called me to youth ministry and I will continue with that until He tells me otherwise, but it was certainly a new experience.

Because of my time in the Juarez VBS, when I returned home and found out that our VBS hadn't happened yet, I decided to volunteer.

At first, it was overwhelming because there were so many resources, so many beautiful decorations and other things that our modest VBS didn't have.

While it wasn't the same, I did learn one thing: children are the same anywhere you go. They're willing to be vulnerable and love on you even if they don't really know you. In most cases, they haven't learned how harsh life can be or how mean and unloving people can be. They have a pure faith.

It's no wonder that Jesus cared so much for them.

Juarez slide show 2007.

Friday, July 20, 2007 Juarez, Mexico: Part IV "Can you translate the message for the English speakers here," Ramon asked me in Spanish. We were at his church, dressed in the best Sunday clothes we could stuff into our small black duffel bags. I nodded and qualified it in Spanish with "I'm not the best, but I will try." He patted me on the shoulder and I left to go back to my seat. Turning to one of my group members, I whispered "I have to translate the sermon for everyone into English---I'm so nervous! Pray for me, please!" She said a little prayer and encouraged me with some kind words. Still, there was a little voice inside of me that was freaking out. It had been two full years since I had truly had the opportunity to be immersed in the language and I feared that I had lost a lot of my skills. Four years of Spanish at the university is nothing to sneeze at, but it doesn't compare to using it all the time and living in a foreign country. Church began with a worship time. This is when I fell in love with it. There were no acoustic guitars. No basses. No drums. Just a karaoke-like CD player at the front of the room, two microphones hooked up to each plug. As the music began, I looked around the room at other church members who were already singing along to "Ven, es tiempo de adorarle" (Come, now is the time to worship). As cheesy as it may sound, I felt my spirit soar and I began feeling that swell of emotion that happens when the Holy Spirit is moving in amazing ways. The tears came to my eyes and I could help but feel overwhelmed by the heart of this congregation. After the song finished, Pastor Ramon explained in his broken English "Now, you Americans may not dance in church, but here, we dance." The song "Remoleondo" began and as the chorus hit, church members began spinning in a circle in their small space near their chairs. Then, everyone began kicking their feet out like ska dancers. With ribbons twirling at the front of the room, four little girls danced along to the music and church members grinned from ear to ear. What a great church service, I thought. As worship closed, Pastor Ramon cued me and I walked to the front of the congregation of about 60, prepared to translate his sermon. All of a sudden, he called our trip leader up, who spoke basically NO Spanish. What's going on here? I thought to myself. Then, Ramon told me that I was going to translate Bill's words for the congregation and Bill was to tell them why we were there and anything else. This is not what I signed up for! I thought as I got even more nervous. It was bumpy, and absolutely terrible most of the time. I had only been in the country for less than a day and hadn't had much practice time. Already I was trying to translate for a big group. I sat down, feeling disheartened about my abilities. My group mate hugged my shoulders and told me she thought I did a good job. Hah! You didn't understand what I was saying, though, I told her. Though I wasn't up at the front to translate the message into English (something MUCH easier to do), I quietly translated sections of it for others in my row. I felt at least a little bit better by the end of the service because I had helped a few people understand what was going on. Things would get better, I told myself. We left on the bus that day and headed back to our bunks.

Wanna learn Spanish?

I just found an AMAZING resource that I'm soooo interested in trying to keep my language skills up.

The place is called "The Spanish Place" and it's on Mill in Tempe. Basically, you can pay $25 for a day pass to attend all classes that day or $95 for a month pass, which allows you to go to as many classes as you want throughout the month (and it goes from whatever date you start to that date the following month, i.e. 2oth of july to 20th of August).

I'm so jazzed about this and am certainly going to see if I can try it out.

Anyone game? Hannah?

Nos vemos!

Hasta luego!
j

Juarez, Mexico: Part III

After a few hour's wait, the other groups from Oklahoma and California arrived and I picked through the pile of duffel bags to find the one I had marked with a bright pink ponytail holder. Lugging it through the automatic doors, we walked down the sidewalk to a caravan of SUVs and vans that would take us over the U.S.-Mexico border to our destination: Juarez.

My small group from Arizona was shuffled to different vans in the line of vehicles and I left to join the California group.

They couldn't help giving me a nice jab at the fact that my Arizona group flew to Texas rather than making the drive like they did. Then again, they were planning a luxurious stop at a Tucson spa on the way back. Rough life. (so California! haha)

When we finally pulled up to our temporary home, located on a Christian school campus, we were thirsty, hungry and tired from traveling. To our relief, we were shown our rooms, complete with plastered walls, bunk beds with plastic-covered mattresses, and little else. The swamp cooler worked in our bedroom, if the air was rerouted from the main dining/community room.

We didn't know that the first night.

Not only were we acclimating to the heat, but we were adjusting to no cool air. Most of us went to sleep that night sweaty and sticky, wondering how we were going to survive the rest of the week ahead of us. Fortunately, the trick was discovered the next morning and we had cool air the rest of the week.


The first days

It was surprising to me how difficult it was for the teens to adjust to life without iPods, without their cell phones, and without hard plans and schedules for the week. One boy struggled to sit still or find something to do now that he didn't have his MP3 player. Clearly out of his comfort zone, I tried to encourage him to read his Bible, get to know the other group members, and just relax a little.

It proved to be quite the challenge as he sat around bouncing his right leg and looking around the room.

I gave him his space and went about talking to other group members and enjoying a little peace and quiet.

It had been a very long time since I had been without what I had once considered "necessities." No cell phone to text message a friend. No iPod to listen to my favorite music. No hair dryer to quickly style my shoulder-length hair.


Pastor Ramon

Saturday night we were finally given our briefing and introduced to the family and pastor we would be working with for the duration of our trip.

In Spanish, Pastor Ramon told us his testimony.

He had been addicted to drugs and alcohol from a young age, and spent much of his early 20s getting mixed up in the gang scene.

One day he was laying in a city park when he remembers a teenager coming up to him and telling him "You know Jesus loves you," and simply walking away.

It changed his life.

He began asking questions and desiring to be out of his drug-addicted life. Eventually, he met his wife, they started a church, and had two beautiful daughters.

I was touched by this man's story, but more importantly the man himself. Joy seemed to radiate from his inner core as he smiled and joked with the group of English-speakers. To me, he was the epitome of what a Christian should look like. Jesus changed our lives and yet, often, we walk around just as down-cast as anyone else.

I didn't realize I was the most fluent Spanish speaker in the group until I noticed I was the only one laughing after the punchline of his jokes.

At that point, it was pretty clear to even the trip leader that they had someone who could be the liaison they needed to survive the work projects and church meetings.

That was the beginning of the most uncomfortable, stretching part of my experience in Juarez.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Juarez, Mexico: Part II An hour after leaving Phoenix, we were already touching down in El Paso, Texas with a sleepy leader, a discouraged leader, and two anxious team members. It was 11 o'clock, leaving about two hours until we would board vans with other groups from all over the U.S. and travel across the border to Juarez. As we exited the plane and began walking toward baggage claim, it was apparent that our 2-hour wait was going to be less than thrilling. Aside from a handful of shops catering to turquoise-loving tourists and two small Mexican food restaurants, little much else existed. Baggage claim reminded me of the little town in Washington I used to visit when I was younger. Four luggage carousels were nestled in a corner of the airport with dozens of passengers waiting for their bags to arrive. We began to notice other high school-aged students wearing the same grey, "Project Serve" T-shirts that we were sporting, so that was a pretty good sign. Luggage arrived. We met our trip leader. Baggage was tossed in a growing heap next to the automatic sliding doors near the exit. So far, so good. Still feeling like a failure as a leader, but doing all right for the most part. "So hey, do you guys want to go get some food?" our trip leader asked. We shrugged our shoulders, grabbed our wallets and walked down a small corridor to our only option: Mexican food. "Fine by me," I thought. "Might as well get used to it-- we'd be eating a lot of it for a week." Our small group stuck together in the small alcove, straining to hear over the loud hip-hop music blaring from a speaker overhead. After polishing off a chicken burro and an iced tea, I checked my watch and we headed back to the carousels where a large group of teens had congregated. Sitting in a circle, they slept and talked amongst themselves while we sat in a set of chairs. My other leader began sleeping with his head resting on a metal bar behind him. Within a few minutes, I was ready to break out of our little group and try to be social. With my team members on board, we joined up with the other group while my other leader laid down on the airport floor to take a power nap. Georgia. Never been there, but the accents sure sound nice. As soon as we had approached this group of Georgians, we were immediately welcomed in and began comparing notes on the differences between our cultures. Sweet tea. (Big) trucks. Football. Wafflehouse. Yes, Wafflehouse. It was in that moment of learning about these 16-19-year-olds that I began to feel more excited, more relaxed, and less aware of my previous failures as a leader. We would be waiting for another hour for other groups to arrive, but I was looking forward to the wait and the rest of the week ahead of us.