Year: 2018

The Dreaded Mustache and Feather Duster

An old Indiana law declares mustaches illegal if the bearer habitually kisses other people.  And in Texas it’s still against the law to dust public buildings with a feather duster. Weird, right?

Maybe. Maybe not.

Laws are often an effort to control what we fear. But what can be so fearful about a mustached man who likes to kiss and a feather duster, you ask?

Here’s a possible answer. Tuberculosis.

Sure, it’s not frightening to most of us today, but less than a hundred years ago tuberculosis was every bit as frightening as cancer. One statistic states that by the beginning of the 19th century, tuberculosis had killed 1 in 7 of all people who had ever lived. By the early 20th century, tuberculosis consistently ranked as one of the top three causes of death in the United States. Few families escaped its effect.

Up until the mid-1800s the medical field considered TB (or consumption as it was known then) a hereditary disease. If someone in your family died of consumption and you had a fragile disposition, chances were you’d get it too. Chalk it up to unlucky genes. But things shifted in 1882 when Robert Koch announced his discovery of the tubercle bacillus and initiated the germ theory of how diseases were spread. By the turn of the 20th century, scientists accepted that TB was spread from droplets of saliva from infected individuals.

Treatment of the infected patient changed as hundreds of TB sufferers were isolated into sanitariums. When scientists discovered the tuberculosis bacteria could survive up to six months in the dust of dark places, women’s hemlines were shortened and housekeepers were instructed to use damp cloths and mops rather than brooms and feather dusters to eliminate dust. When news spread that facial hair could harbor deadly germs, beards and mustaches gave way to clean-shaven faces. Spitting in public, once a very common practice, now became disgusting.

Suddenly, this weird law on the books in El Paso doesn’t seem so weird anymore, does it?

 “Churches, hotels, halls of assembly, stores, markets, banking rooms, railroad depots, and saloons are required to provide spittoons of a kind and number to efficiently contain expectorations into them.”

And now you know.

Thoughts from the Trail

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My husband and I had our Spring Break early this year. (We can do that since we’re empty nesters.) So early March found us on the side of a mountain taking what was supposed to be an easy morning walk. I don’t think either of us knew what we were getting ourselves into when we started out that morning and by the time we did, we were too stubborn to give up. Later, I found out the trail we hiked was only 1.7 miles, but since those miles were 80% vertical, our time on the trail felt a lot like a two hour workout on a stair-stepper. 

The two of us have hiked a lot of miles together over the years, and we soon fell into our regular pattern. When the trail got narrow, he would lead the way, and if the climb was especially steep, he’d reach back and lend me a hand up. I didn’t think much of it until we got to a very narrow portion of vertical rock. We’d stepped to the side to allow some other hikers to come down. A young mom with a toddler on her back was part of the group, but when my husband offered her a hand to help her down, she waved him off. Clearly, she could do this on her own.

I get it. The word “dependent” gets a bad rap in our society. Phrases like “co-dependency,” “drug and alcohol dependency,” and “dependent personality disorder” bring out the negative aspect of the word. We like to think we’re stronger than that, capable of conquering our mountains on our own. But is it always a weakness to depend on others for help?

A wise man once said:

“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor:  If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.” [Ecclesiastes 4:9-10]

We Americans are an independent lot. It’s in our DNA—that do-it-yourself, pull-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps mentality. In many ways it’s a good quality, but sometimes we cling to our independence to our detriment. Those are the times when we let our pride keep us from the help we so desperately need.  The Pharisees in the Bible are a prime example, so sure of their own ability to be righteous they completely missed the salvation Jesus offered. But here are the facts: if you are human, you need a Savior. If that weren’t the case, then what was the point of the cross?

And if you are human, no matter how strong or capable you may be, there will come a time you’ll need the help of others.  As we made the climb that morning, many on the path were stronger than I. Several were using the path as a jogging trail, and I marveled at their ability to take on the steep angles and loose rocks at such a pace. But on the way down, we came across one of those young athletes being helped down the trail by two other hikers. Apparently, he’d fallen and hurt an ankle. Strong as he was, there was no way he could make it off the mountain alone. In fact, by the time we reached the bottom of the trail, the emergency vehicles arrived. Even the two Samaritans who’d stopped to help him weren’t enough to get him off that mountain. They’d called in the professionals.

So here’s my tip from the trail: never hike alone. Don’t let pride stand in the way of the blessing of community.

So I got a Tattoo

So, I got a tattoo. I know. I’m just as surprised as you are. I always told my kids not to get one unless it had lasting meaning—something they wouldn’t regret twenty, thirty years down the road. I regret clothes choices from a year ago. Could I really find something I’d want to wear on my skin forever? But then, my daughter came to me with an idea I couldn’t pass up.

You see, there are two women in my life to whom I owe a debt I can never repay. Two women whose sacrifice of love allowed me to have something I could never have on my own—children. Because of them, I am a mom. Because of them, my life changed for the better in ways I can never measure. One of these women I have never met. The other I’m privileged to know well.

And so, when my daughter asked me to get the adoption symbol tattoo along with her and her birth mother, I said YES! The triangle represents the three sides of adoption—birth family, adoptive family, child. The heart represents the love that binds us all together. I added a cross to my symbol for two reasons.  1) It reminds me of my own adoption into the family of God through the blood of Jesus. 2) I know both our children came to us through God’s orchestration because “every good and perfect gift comes down from the Father above.”

And so, I got the tattoo . . . and I know there will be no regrets.