I've been slain by an aluminum bullet.

Just imagine tooling down the highway, the whole family is singing On the Road Again in chorus together, and tagging along behind is that shiny aluminum bullet of Americana – an Airstream camper.  It is something we’ve dreamed of since the success of our first tent camping trip.  It was wildly successful, despite long nights of thunderstorms, foul pit toilets, and inescapable mosquito clouds that threatened to carry our babies away.   If we can have that much fun on the meager sleep and damp accommodations a vinyl tent can provide, imagine the possibilities with the relative comfort and ease afforded by a classic, beautiful camper, with its on-board facilities, functional kitchenette, and enormous shade awning.  Take a moment and dream with me…

Of all things, an Airstream turned up last week, parked along the highway with a “For Sale” sign.  After driving by for a week and averting our eyes, my husband and I both came clean the same day that we’d had our eye on that most beautiful incarnation of outdoor accommodations.  We pulled up next to it and found out that it was actually being offered at the kind of humble price we could consider.  We took my dad by, a guy with plenty of experience buying campers, and he didn’t find anything to stop us, not from the outside anyway.  We made another visit to our Landyacht when someone was actually there to let us in, and it was exactly what we expected inside – outdated, but clean and usable.  No odors, no water damage, all the windows opened and closed, the owner says all the systems operate: an incredibly functional camper for an incredibly accessible price.

This is a little bigger, but similar.

So we’ve spent the last two days mulling it over.  The first, biggest, and most absurd con: we don’t have a truck.  The camper would have to sit on our property as a children’s playhouse until our Caravan dies and warrants a new vehicle purchase (this could happen soon, but how soon is an unknown).  The other cons are less absurd, but important non-the-less.  In the last eighteen months, we have had a baby, bought a hobby farm, sold a house, traded a convertible in on a minivan, and bought a tractor – oh, and I’ve quit my job.  In the next six, we still hope to build a chicken coup, get chickens, build a lean-to, and add at least one grass-eating livestock to our family – oh, and finally get the basement boxes unpacked.  In addition to all that, we’re seriously, seriously considering a kitchen remodel.  Every time I can’t open the door of the fridge far enough, because it’s crowded up against a wall, or I have to run the dishwasher twice in one day, because the “Spacesaver” under-sink model has only half an upper rack, I’m reminded of the need to put all our spare pennies in the kitchen fund.

If we don’t buy the camper, I know, with some certainty, that the day will come when we will look at each other and say, “Man, if only we’d bought that camper.”  If we buy the camper, I know, with some certainty, that my kitchen is going to stay in its current state for another year.  Of course, that may happen anyway – we have a chicken coop to build after all.  But knowing that only makes it harder to pass on my Airstream dreams.  Self denial stinks.  Really really.

a time to search and a time to give up  Ecclesiastes 3:6

We’re going to disappoint our kids this Christmas.

I’ve been hearing about it for over a year.  iPods, iPods, iPods.  They vowed to save up for them.  They wanted them for their birthdays.  They wanted us to search Craigslist for cheap ones with cracked screens.  Their devotion to getting iPod touches has been almost single-minded, even usurping the role of cell phone at the top of their longings and desires.  When we got my husband an iPad, and everyone found out firsthand how flawlessly Apple technology operates, and how truly addictive Angrybirds is, it amplified their desires to a new level of intensity.

In planning our Christmas giving, we got sucked in.  We debated the merits of iPods vs. ghetto-pads; we considered Nooks and Kindles.  We weighed the potential reading minutes against the potential gaming minutes.  We considered getting them one to share, but I wasn’t interested in officiating time of possession.  We were at the cusp of making a major outlay for technology, granting our kids’ biggest wish.

Then they started bickering.  First it was over socks.  Despite the fact that each girl has a drawer that is overflowing with socks, I was charmed by the goofy Christmas socks at Dollar Tree and bought them each two pair that they could mix and match.  The next morning, they were going at each other hatefully over the stupid socks, because they couldn’t come to an agreement on who got which of the FOUR PAIRS.  Later, they raised the same ruckus over who got to wear the pink mittens, despite the bin full of available options.  Shortly into the afternoon, they were fighting over space in the minivan.  We were FOUR people, riding in a vehicle designed to seat SEVEN.

My kids already have DS’s.  They already have a portable DVD player for road trips.  They already have a room all their own.  They already have a closet full of clothes.  They have a huge collection of Barbies, of Our Generation dolls, of Galactic Heroes, of dress up gowns, etc, etc.  But over the last few weeks, every adult who cares about them, myself included, has opened at least one conversation with, “what are you going to ask for this Christmas?”  It has led my children to believe that their self-centered, materialistic desires actually matter to the overall functioning of the social order and that, somehow, Jesus came to earth, purely to occasion their own wish-fulfillment.

I am back at square one.  I want my kids to have a fun, memorable Christmas.  Like everyone else, I don’t want their gift opening to be a disappointment.  I wonder what kind of role model I’ve been for them, that they would display such repulsive behavior.  Let’s face it, I’m disappointed, too.  I want to make them happy, but I also want to be a good mom, and I’m afraid that this Christmas, I’m not going to be able to do both.  Character and gratitude last longer than electronics anyway, right?  Wish me luck.

As bad as you are, you still know how to give good gifts to your children. But your heavenly Father is even more ready to give the Holy Spirit to anyone who asks. Luke 11:13

I collect Barbies

Between Women’s Studies courses and life experience, I knew by my mid-twenties that things needed to change in our world. While men can be wonderful leaders and a lot of fun to banter with, women have taken a backseat for far too long. I had to stifle my disgust when we went to my seminary orientation and the male students kept brushing past me to shake my husband’s hand and welcome him into ministry. One man, when my husband corrected him without much warmth, stumbled over his own words as he proclaimed, “I, of course, fully support women in ministry!” Of course, he knew and supported the theological position of our seminary, but immediately upon meeting a new couple, his imbedded beliefs surfaced and he brushed the woman aside to greet the man.

Those imbedded beliefs are what I hoped to battle in the next generation. I was not going to socialize my children along gender lines. We prepared for our babies by buying neutral sleepers, yellow and green. We decorated the nursery with Bat symbols and action figures. When the girls got older, we balanced their ballet and tea parties with basketball and camping.

We couldn’t believe it when Barbie came into the picture. Not Barbie! I’ve heard that if she were a real woman, she’d be missing two ribs and several organs. She lives for fashion and big hair. Barbie? Really? They wanted Barbies? There is no denying it, though, my daughters love Barbies. My older girl dresses them up, replays scenes from her favorite shows and movies, and has them stage rescues in concert with the 12” Star Wars figures. My younger girl can spend two hours with a naked Barbie and her puppy, coming up with a million lines of dialog. Barbies completely spark their imaginations and aspirations. Veterinarian Barbie, all the Wizard of Oz Barbies, Super Hero Barbies, Barbie cars, Barbie pets, homemade Barbie gowns for weddings and Nobel Prize banquets.

Well into the explosion of Barbie dolls and accessories, my husband and I noticed that the Barbies that proved the most interesting were usually also the most expensive; and that did not factor into the way they were used and abused by the kids. The girls would ask for a $40 Glinda Barbie for Christmas, and then have her beautiful outfit dismantled by MLK Day, buried deep in the Barbie bin for all eternity – and making Glinda basically the same as any of her naked cohorts – crazy red curls as her only distinction. So, I decided that from now on, the really cool Barbies are going to be “mine.” If we are going to purchase Dorothy Gale, I am going to control how much time she spends in the Barbie house and whether Skipper is allowed to try on her Ruby Slippers.

Somehow, the Barbie thing turned into a lot of fun. Turns out, I don’t share them after all. They’re all MIB (mint in the box). I can find about one cool Barbie a year marked 75% off at Target, keeping our investment down to less than $10 a year. And just modeling my respect for the collection has influenced the girls to use a little more care and caution on their own “special” Barbies. My younger daughter, after months of unrequited lust, put up the $40 out of her own Christmas money to get the “vintage” 1985 Peaches and Cream Barbie. Peaches, amazingly, still has her clothes on, has her ruffled stole wrapped around her, and goes back into her box whenever my girl cleans her room. I’m not holding my breath that she won’t eventually dissolve into Barbie-bin nakedness, but it’ll feel like a success if she makes it to Valentine's.

Maybe I’m a sellout – but as long I can overhear my daughters' Barbies pursuing higher education, becoming President, and telling Luke Skywalker, “That’s OK, you wait here, I’ll rescue the hostage” – I think I’ll be able to live with myself and enjoy my rockin’ Barbies.

I gave you the finest clothes and the most expensive robes, as well as sandals made from the best leather. I gave you bracelets, a necklace, a ring for your nose, some earrings, and a beautiful crown. Your jewelry was gold and silver, and your clothes were made of only the finest material and embroidered linen. Your bread was baked from fine flour, and you ate honey and olive oil. You were as beautiful as a queen. Ezekiel 16:10-13