Bosom Up

Guess I’ve been in Springfield too long, but I was taken aback recently flying through Chicago and Los Angeles where I saw all sorts of skimpily dressed females. Teens and middle-aged; black, white and Hispanic; attractive and ordinary.

Some had the shortest of shorts that left little to the imagination. More had a desire to reveal their cleavage.

It’s not just airplanes and airport terminals, of course. By living in a sheltered environment of a Christian workplace and going to church functions quite a bit, I don’t see a lot of provocatively dressed women, although those environments aren’t necessarily a guarantee anymore of modesty.

What drives women to dress that way in public? It’s not really just the hot weather. There is some type of insecurity involved. A desire to be noticed. A hope to compete with all the unreal media images of scantily clothed women. The trend isn’t healthy, for women or men.

Exploiting the Most Vulnerable

Recently I wrote a magazine article news feature about sex slavery in the United States. An estimated 100,000 children are trafficked each year in this country.

For background, I read the sobering and heart-wrenching Renting Lacy: A Story of America’s Prostituted Children. Through skillful narrative, interwoven with commentary by author Linda Smith, the book shows the inside of the child prostitution industry from the prospective of the girls.

Smith, a former U.S. congresswoman, is founder of Shared Hope International, an organization that fights sex trafficking and commercial sex exploitation. The realistic, thought-provoking book clearly explains the psychological abuse that pimps inflict to keep these teen and pre-teen girls trapped. It also touches on the growing lust of the clients, which will only make the problem worsen unless Americans get angry enough to stop it.

That’s unlikely, with a growing demand for porn. And men who look at porn want increasingly taboo material. Lately, that has been child porn. If someone wants to have sex with a 16-year-old girl, it's not that much of a leap to be willing to pay for sex with an 11-year-old girl. It's time for the church to get angry about this.

When law enforcement officials bust up a sex slave ring, they have few options of placing the girls where they overcome the trauma they have suffered. But Jane Christiansen is doing something about the plague. As founder of God4Girls, Christiansen is working to open a home staffed by professional counselors to help restore hope to the youngest victims. I hope she is inundated with donations. Of course they will only be a drop in the bucket compared to what men shell out to look at and abuse defenseless girls.

Life at 92

My brother and I moved our 92-year-old mother into a nursing home a couple of weeks ago. She requested the switch from a residential care facility because she had fallen twice in the previous week. Quite naturally, she feared falling again and being left on the floor for hours before being discovered.

Sometimes, growing old isn’t so enjoyable. Until she broke her hip at age 89, my mom had been peppy and alert. But as time goes on, her physical and mental faculties diminish. Now she is in a wheelchair instead of using a walker. She has difficulty organizing her thoughts. She has trouble concentrating while reading. She really can’t write letters anymore. And going to the restroom is an ordeal for a variety of reasons.

On a positive note, she likes her new roommate, has seemed to rediscover her sense of humor and is eating better since moving into the nursing home, where the staff is compassionate and friendly, from the groundskeepers to the meal servers.

But the move from a two-room apartment to a semiprivate room meant that my brother and I had to sell, discard or keep various clothes, furniture and mementoes. We have some new photos on the wall at home. My brother reminded me of when our uncle and aunt moved into an assisted-living facility a few years ago. They didn’t have room for all the photo albums of the trips they had taken as a couple. And none of the children wanted them.

Life is short. Have fun. Enjoy the memories. But don’t take too many photos.

Church Misconceptions

It seems no matter what denomination, congregation size or geographic region, a lot of Americans are confused about what church is designed to be. I always thought church should be a place for corporate worship of God, fellowship with other Christians and to hear the Word preached.

Others tell me I’m wrong. Church should be about having personal needs met. It should be a comfortable experience, one in which I don’t have to think about the guy next to me because he’s not on my economic level. Church should be a place, people think, where the pastor strokes our ego, tells us how to prosper and assures us that America is the apple of God’s eye.

Certainly this isn’t a new phenomenon. When I was a boy many people thought church was a place to dress up, to be seen by others as fulfilling a weekly obligation, a reason to wash the car on Saturday.

I think our perceptions are screwy. Church is a place to give back, both to the community and to others in the body. It’s a place to use spiritual gifts, not ornately, but in humility. It’s a place to give generously, to the One who has provided everything.

Smoked Out

I had an unpleasant experience recently when my wife and I went to Texas Roadhouse for the first time in many months. Oh, the food was great. But I had a difficult time enjoying it. Cigarette smoke kept wafting into my nostrils and lungs.

When I inquired, the server explained that smoking is allowed in the bar, which is a big open area in the middle of the restaurant. There are no exhaust fans.

So the next day I called up the city health department. After all, Springfield passed a restaurant smoking ordinance a few years ago that allowed smoking only where alcohol sales are hefty, and separate ventilation systems were required. But it turns out the code is pretty toothless. For example, eateries that seat less than 50 get a free pass. And there is an exemption for restaurants that sell $200,000 or more in alcohol a year. No separate seating area or ventilation system required.

Missouri is one of only a dozen states not to regulate restaurant smoking. I guess medical studies that show cigarette smoke, even secondhand smoke, can kill you aren’t enough to force laws that would protect patrons from those who seemingly can’t last an hour without lighting up. I really feel sorry for the non-smoking servers who have to work in these conditions.

Patty and I also have tried eating outdoors at a couple of restaurants, but few have any restrictions there. I guess if smoke is outside somehow it’s not unhealthy. Meanwhile, we’ll stick to those establishments that ban or restrict puffing to certain areas.

Remodeling Takes Shape

Patty and I have been married 32 years today. One thing we’ve learned over the years, sometimes the hard way, is to try to keep debt to a minimum. That’s why it’s particularly gratifying to see our house remodeling nearing completion without taking out a loan. For the past five years we’ve been socking away part of our paychecks to make the larger house a reality. Delayed gratification never felt so good. It’s especially rewarding when people ask, as they have repeatedly done, who is financing the job.

Our remodeled bathroom will have a whirlpool tub to relax our aging bodies and a shower that we can actually move in without bumping our elbows on the walls. A new guest room will be a place for company to relax and have their own bathroom facilities.

Goals are important in marriage. While this isn’t necessarily a spiritual boon (although Patty will be able to use the hospitality suite as a prayer room when vacant), achieving a shared dream can draw a couple closer. Disagreements over what nozzles, windows, light fixtures, and paints to incorporate have been kept to a minimum. And, despite having to go fetch our clothes from the living room every morning, we even drew closer through the upheaval. We removed the wallpaper that we’ve hated for 11 years in the hallway as well as in the existing bathroom. We painted those rooms and made them look much nicer. Togetherness in sweatiness.

Living Long

I took a work-related health survey a few weeks ago. After answering a bunch of questions about my lifestyle, the computer figured I’d live to be 90 years old. This is based on such factors as me not smoking, not boozing it up every night, staying away from fast food for the most part, exercising regularly and the fact that my mom is already 92. Apparently baby fat is not a hindrance.

Of course predicting longevity is a bit of a crapshoot. I could get run over crossing the street. Or I might die from a cancer caused by what is in the water that I drink or the air that I breathe. The chemicals on the food I buy at grocery stores or in restaurants might do me in. Or I could get some dreaded leg or foot ailment and not be able to go walking weekday mornings anymore.

We try to increase our odds of sticking around. While much of our wellness is beyond our control, we can take measures to improve the probability of living longer: eating healthy foods, not being a couch potato all the time, reducing or eliminating the pharmaceuticals in our bodies, using non-toxic products to apply to our face, head and underarms.

The biggest threat is bigness. It’s a constant struggle to keep those extra pounds off as I age. But that extra cellulite in the gut is a great risk to cause a heart attack or stroke. There may be something more important than sticking around a long time: taking care of myself so that I feel well during my remaining years.