Saturday, September 12, 2015

The Essence of Life


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Originally written April 30, 2002 - by Shonda Ponder

Today, I realized what has been missing in my life for the past few years. I only feel the need to share this with others because my guess is that others have been missing it, too. It really isn't important unless you need an upbeat daily dose of attitude, or a slow dose of nostalgia accompanied by memories that you forgot you had. What is it I am talking about? What could possibly cause this overwhelming desire to share what I have found to be missing from my life?

Music.

Music is the essence of life. Whether you like Rock-n-roll, Country, or slow rock -- which is more commonly referred to by my significant other as "progressive elevator music". He likes the head-banging kind, which might explain the times when I think he's been hit on the head one too many times. Of course, that could also be due to my incessant desire to wallow in self-pity over all my failures. Which brings me back to the subject of music.

Today I turned on the radio after he went to work. After about five minutes of listening to "Redneck Girl" by the Bellamy Brothers, I found myself picturing my daddy's big green hunk of junk that I used to drive to the store when he was too tired to go buy his own pack of cigarettes. Of course, today that would be impossible with all the "spy on your neighbor" laws that require the store clerk to ask for your identity before purchasing such items. Didn't matter that I wasn't buying them for me, or that my dad sent me to the store to get them. (Not that I didn't purchase them for myself at an early age, anyway).

Then there was the modified, "Do you think Hank really did it this way?" (which I don't know who sings now, having been out of the music loop for so long. The name "Hank" has been replaced by "Waylon" -- probably because Waylon wrote the song. I remembered my daddy with his guitar, as he picked out a tune with Cousin Thurman and Uncle Adrian. I found myself turning the radio up to the tune of "You don't have to call me Darlin", trying to drown out the voices of my Daddy and Uncle Adrian in the memorized background.

I started to cry when I heard "Voices in wind" and thought of my step-momma Jeanie as she stood in the kitchen over a hot stove singing, "Oh Lord, won't you buy be a mercedes benz" and then turning on the 8-track player with "A good-hearted woman" when daddy would go out on Thursday nights to play in the local pool tournaments. Jeanie was like a sister to me. We used to share each other's clothes, and sit up until two or three in the morning watching The Nashville Network, even before they finally caught up on the bills enough to buy their first colored television. I was a senior in high school by the time that happened.

In the end, when my significant other returned home from work, I found myself turning off the radio and somehow feeling better having had the chance to enjoy something that has been missing for what seems like forever.

We sing our babies to sleep with it. We hum it while we work. Music is embedded in our hearts and minds with a fervor that follows us until the day we die. People who do not appreciate music are often seen as "non-cultured" and lacking in social talent. It can only be due to the fact that the sound of music communicates with the soul, and it should not be left out of a well-balanced life.

Music, indeed, is the essence of life.

Out of the mouths of babes


www.1and1.com


by Shonda Ponder
(originally written on July 29, 2001)

My 10-year-old was home-schooled until he was sent to live with his father last year due to some "financial hard times" that had come upon myself--making me fear for his safety and health. During the past year I have hoped, and prayed fervently, that he would not "unlearn" all I have tried to teach him, since he is now being sent to a public school (albeit in a small town), and not knowing how much importance his father would place on his growing mind.

For the last month or so, he has been returned to me for visitation (I have joint custody with his father), so I have had a chance to "feel him out" to make sure that he is doing "okay" and to check to see if there were any errors entered into his brain's programming that I needed to fix.

Upon having nice long conversations with him of an intellectual nature, I was relieved to know that his father was doing wonderfully at encouraging his intellect, despite the fact that he is no longer being home-schooled. I was bothered at one point because someone (not his father) had mentioned to him that he was much too young to think as intelligently as he thinks. I immediately told him that if God had not wished him to be as smart as he was, that He would not have given him the capacity to learn as much as he has learned. My son, thought about that for a moment, then said, "Okay. Good point."

During my visit with my son, it was made known to me that he wishes to grow up to be a scientist. His field of interest right now is "Spontaneous Human Combustion". He is reading every bit of material he can get his hands on about the subject. I immediately gave him access to my encyclopedias (and, I sent them home with him, when it was time, as well).
Our visit ended on Saturday, July 28th. So, we had to make a 400 mile trip to take him back home to his father so he could prepare him for the school year, which is to start in a couple of weeks.

I am always looking for ways in which to stimulate his thinking habits. Many times, I do this as a game, and he learns without even knowing that I am teaching him. His brain is like a computer--I learned this when he was barely old enough to communicate verbally. Everything he sees, hears, touches, and experiences is like software to him. So, having made this observation, I experimented with his mind, and taught him how to think. Every moment with him is spent "writing his programs". Every word that is spoken from him is a "test" of how well I have done my job. I have worked hard to create a success-bound character out of him.

And, as a result, today, the last words I spoke to him before returning him to his father were honestly, "Son, I am very proud of you."

On the long trip to return him to his father, I desparately tried to find ways not to think about being without him again. He is my pride and my joy. I teach him that he is special. I tell him that he doesn't have to be like everyone else when they do or say things that are not right. I teach him to ask questions in order to figure out how to create his own point of view. I have also taught him about God, and taught him (and showed him examples) of how, sometimes, man's laws differ.

Trying to soothe my breaking heart at having to let him go again, I decided to try to stimulate, and test his mind once again. This time, I wanted to do something different, and I wondered if he was up to the task.

Knowing that he wants to be a scientist, and wanting to introduce him, somehow, to the political nature of science, I said, "Son, do you know who our president is?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "George Bush."

"Well, President Bush right now is trying to decide whether or not to fund a certain type of scientific research. The people in the government right now are debating whether or not they should give scientists the money to continue doing stem-cell research." I said. "What do you think?"

He thought for a moment then asked, "What are stem-cells?"

I explained to him that they were the base components that all tissue in the human body is derived from. I told him that stem-cell research could theoretically help save lives in the future by providing new cells where old cells have been damaged or lost, such as in cancer.

Then he asked me, "What's wrong with that?"

I said, "Nothing. The debate is mainly over where they are getting the stem-cells from, and whether the government should support the research because of it." Which led to,

"Where do they get the stem-cells from?"

I had to answer this question carefully, because I did not want to influence his point of view in any way. So I answered it as best I could like this:

"Scientists can get stem-cells from humans, but not enough humans donate the amount of stem-cells needed for the research. Another alternative is to get them from a baby's umbilical cord, which is donated to science after the birth of a child. The umbilical cord is what attaches the baby to the mother while it is growing inside the mother's womb. But, again, not a lot of people think to donate the umbilical cords, either. So, scientists now are creating embryos in laboratories and getting the stem-cells from the embryos."
He thought about that for a moment then said, "What is an embryo?"

I explained to him that mothers have egg cells and fathers have sperm cells, and sometimes they donate these to science. When an egg and a sperm come together, it creates an embryo, which becomes a fetus, which becomes a baby, which becomes a child, and finally becomes an adult human being. I told him that some people believed that embryos were just a bunch of cells that are clumped together, and that it is okay to use embryos because it isn't alive.

"Does it grow?" he asked.

"Yes." I answered, restating that it becomes a fetus, etc.

"What do the scientists do with the embryos after they get the stem-cells?"

I explained to him that when all the stem-cells are taken from the embryo, that they discard the embryo.

"You mean, like, throw it away--because it won't grow?"

I said, "Yes."

"And, you are asking me if I think that the president should help the scientists by giving money to them so they can keep doing this?"

Again, I said, "Yes."

At this point, he surprised me by saying, "Can I think about this for a minute?"

I said, "Of course."

The conversation became quiet, and except for the hum of the car motor and the classic rock music faintly sounding on the radio speakers, I didn't pursue it for awhile, patiently anticipating his answer.

After what seemed like fifteen minutes he finally spoke up and said, "Mom?"

"Yes?"

"You say that embryos grow to become fetuses, right?"

I said, "Yes. That is what I said."

"Okay, let me think some more..."

Again, all was quiet for what seemed like another fifteen minutes. At this point he spoke up and said, "Mom?"

Again, I said, "Yes?"

I heard him take in a deep breath, and then he said, "I've thought about it, and I think the answer should be no."

"No, what?"

"No, I don't think the scientist should be using the embryos like that."

Of course, my next question was, "Why do you think that?"

"Well," he explained, "You said that an embryo is just a bunch of cells, right? But, you also said that it grows, and that the embryo, if it were left to grow, would become a human being right?"

I said, "Yes."

"Then, the scientists are really, actually, killing baby human beings. And killing human beings is wrong, isn't it?"

The Christian part of me wanted to jump up and down and hug him and say, "YES!!!!!!"

The mother in me wanted to shout, "I am SOOOO proud of you!"

But, the teacher in me only smiled, relieved at the fact that should he ever be able to make his dream of one day becoming a scientist a reality, that he is completely capable of making moral and ethical decisions.

Dirty




by Shonda Ponder
(originally written in April, 2000)


I didn't want to feel dirty
As I came to God that day
For all I'd done to forsake Him
And go my merry way

I knew that I had been wrong
And that there was no hope
Except that He forgive me
And give me strength to cope

Every sin I'd sinned
Every law I'd broken
Out of selfish hypocrisy
I ignored the words He'd spoken

And now I felt alone
And now I felt betrayed
But who was I to blame?
By myself I knelt and prayed

O, Lord, can you forgive me?
Can you hold me once again?
And can you help those others
That I'd taken from your plan?

Can you bless and keep us,
and bring us all back home
And give us hope again
Where before this there was none?

Have I been so wrong
That you have let me fall
Will you grab my hand
And let me feel your call?

I am but human, Lord
I am weak and frail
But with you I have strength
Without you I have failed

Lord, I walked away
Knowing I was wrong
And now I beg forgiveness
I know where I belong

And as I sat there hoping
And wondering if I'd done right
I felt a warm familiar cover
A soft array of light

That said, "I have not left you
Nor have I let you down
It was you who chose
To give away your crown

I know that you are hurting
Lost and so afraid
And now I am here waiting
To hold the child I made

I did not forget you
Nor did I let you go
My love reached out to you
As I watched you grow

And now you ask forgiveness
You want to come back home
I have a feast here waiting
And we won't eat alone

I began to cry
As I ran into his arms
How can I make it up
To all those I have harmed?

He wiped away my tears
And broke my heart of stone
And then He said, "In time,
They too will come back home."

Monday, September 07, 2015

The American Dream - Defined


InterNations.org


What IS the American Dream? I used to think it was a child's ambition to grow up, own a home, own a business, be a parent, and be able to bless our communities.

As I got older, I began to see the American Dream as nothing more than the "Pursuit of Happiness". Pursuit. Meaning: Always out of our reach, but yet having the opportunity reach.

The truth is, without the American Dream -- however you define it -- the average citizen would never find him/herself in a better situation than the day before.

Today, I live hand-to-mouth. But, I thank God it is in America, where I have a hand to put to my mouth.