Handwriting and the End of Civilization

  A recent discussion when my whole family was gathered together has really had me thinking. My cousin Jennifer told us that her son, Braden's, teacher was making him learn how to hold a pencil "correctly" - and that sparked enough controversy - but that wasn't what struck me. She brought out a piece of paper on which Braden had been practicing his cursive, to show us how legible his handwriting was without correction, and I was struck by the fact that he was voluntarily practicing his cursive. You see, if you don't have kids, or don't pay very close attention to the media (as I occasionally do), you might not know: Public schools have decided not to teach children how to write in cursive anymore. The explanation is that typing skills are much more relevant in today's society, and learning cursive just isn't necessary anymore.

  While this may be true, it truly frightens me. I feel like this is just a small step away from deciding not to teach children to write at all.
  About a year ago I read the Matched series by Ally Condie. It is a very fun, three-part, young adult fictional series that reminded me quite a bit of Farenheit 451 (and if you've never read that fantastic piece of literature, you need to stop reading this immediately and go read it, NOW) . The premise is of a future dystopian civilization in which citizens no longer have any free will or creativity. "The Society" has carefully selected 100 songs, 100 poems, 100 paintings, etc. that its citizens may still enjoy; each are mild and should not inspire or incite any kind of free thinking. Meals are selected for you to best meat your nutritional needs, mates are chosen for you based on who will have the best genetically optimal offspring, and, of course, who is the most likely to be compatible so that you actually want to reproduce. But one of the most important parts of the plot is that everything - everything- is now done on screens. Paper is used only to receive information from The Society. No one knows how to write anymore. And because no one knows how to write, there is no un-monitored communication.

  I know it may seem like a rather large mental jump to go from not teaching cursive to the downfall of civilization, but I don't think it's that far a stretch. I think if the Powers That Be can decide that cursive is no longer necessary it cannot be too long before they determine that printing isn't no longer needed as well. You can decide for yourselves whether or not that's a problem. 

When the Poop Hits the Fan

  The past two weeks have been rough for the Franklin family. Pregnancy hormones, nausea, fatigue and the reality of mortality have been pervasive.

  A sweet friend lost her baby, very early in her pregnancy. She had the same kind of internal bleeding that I did, but God took her baby - and I can't stop asking why? It could have just as easily been my family going through this. I know most people don't understand, but I am at times wracked with guilt because my baby is healthy and hers is gone, especially when I think of all of the times I have complained throughout this pregnancy. I feel guilty when I post my weekly bump photos. I am mourning the loss with my friend.
  This new, still-cooking baby has made life in our home very difficult at times. I have 0 energy for my toddler, my husband, my home. I have thrown up innumerable times, sometimes having to do that while I hold Sam. I have constant mood swings and have to apologize to my poor husband for snapping at him over crazy-stupid things. I have told David over and over and over and over how much I hate being pregnant and how this is "the last human I am going to make."
  Twice we have had major scares with this pregnancy, scares like we did not have with Sam. Twice I have been overwhelmed with guilt and fear that I was losing the baby I had prayed so hard for, waited six months for, and then complained about incessantly since it made me feel so awful.

  The day after the news of my friend's baby, I received a call from my mom telling me that my favorite cousins on my dad's side had been lost in a plane crash. They left behind parents, siblings, four sons and a granddaughter. It was their first ride together in the small plane he had bought just over a month ago. And over and over, I asked God why? We were not extremely close. I had spent a week with them the summer I was 17, and we kept in touch online still. David didn't understand why it hit me so hard; maybe it's just the crazy baby hormones. Regardless, it has hit me very hard. Two weeks later, I still sometimes randomly weep over these losses.

  In all of this I have been reminded, repeatedly, that nothing in life is guaranteed. The outcome of my pregnancy is not promised. Waking up tomorrow is not assured. Sam growing up and becoming a man, husband, father, is not secure. The only thing that I - that we - can be sure of is that our God is the same yesterday, tomorrow and today. The only thing we can be sure of is that when trials hit us - and we can be sure that they will - that we can rest in our unchanging God, who is in control, who has not promised that "He won't give us more than we can handle", who does love us, will not leave us or forsake us.

My hope is built on nothing less

Than Jesus' blood and righteousness.

I dare not trust the sweetest frame,

But wholly lean on Jesus' name.

When darkness seems to hid His face,

I rest on His unchanging grace.
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.

His oath, His covenant, His blood,
Support me in the whelming flood.
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my Hope and Stay.

When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh, may I then in Him be found.
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.

On Christ the solid Rock I stand,

All other ground is sinking sand;

All other ground is sinking sand.
- Edward Mote, 1834