Karen Spears Zacharias

This explains a lot

Karen — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 06:00:05 +0000

More on Fakes

Karen — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 03:25:37 +0000

I was in graduate school working on all things education when a professor pulled me aside one afternoon and told me I was a writer. I was 38 years old. I’d grown up in a 12 x 60 in West Georgia. “I’m pretty sure I can’t even spell, much less write,” I replied.

Turns out I was right about that spelling thing, but that writing thing? Well, looks like that gentle soul of a professor had pretty good insights.

I get asked a lot for advice about writing from people who want to be writers or some who just want to be famous. In fact a cowboy stopped me outside the grocery store the other day, tipped his hat back and said, “How’s the writing going? You making any money at this?”

Now anyway you look at it, that’s a rude question. If I am getting rich off this, what business is it of his? And if I’m not, what business is it of his?

I sighed and said, “That was never the point, Cowboy. I do this because I believe I’m called to it.”

He went on to tell me that he’s planning on writing the next great Agatha Christie mystery and that he intends to get rich from writing it. I walked off shaking my head and recalling something my wise professor taught me. A lesson that has carried me during the times when I’m making money and times when I”m not (Thank you, Mr. Sponsor, for the health insurance and Starbucks). What the proferssor said was – ”Ignore all flattery and all criticisms and just keep writing.”

That was singularly the best writing advice I’ve ever received.

The reason all that comes to mind is because I overreacted to the CNN essay about teens being “Fake Christians.” And I didn’t do my homework. I should have contacted the author of the book — Miz Dean — and asked her if she said all those things that CNN reported. I could have asked her what she meant by all that.

Turns out Miz Dean has been catching a lot of heat for that article. (You can read about it over at her site .) Most of it from people who for one reason or another are disappointed in Christians, or the church. Then I come hop-skipping along and say my two cents worth, which is the point of being a commentator and southern woman.

My old professor he taught me one more thing as a writer — he said if you need to explain your point to the reader then you didn’t make it very well to begin with. You only have to take a look at the comment section to realize I did a lot of explaining this week.

Not that I think that’s bad. I think discussion is a good thing and I hope that people visiting this site feel like what they say matters, even if we are at cross-hairs with one another on the issue.

As one fella noted, it seems that Miz Dean and I are not at cross-hairs. We both are hoping for the same thing — teens who are wholly devoted to God. I came at it from an ancedotal, experiential method and she’s coming at it from a reasoned, analytical approach.

I will confess that I often feel out-of-step with the rest of the world, like maybe I’m the fake. When Anne Rice announced that she can no longer tolerate bickering Christians and thus is leaving the fellowship of the Catholic Church, I respond by recalling how the church stepped into my life when I needed it most — as a teen — and provided me with a safe haven. Some of my dearest friendships were formed during those years over car washes and hot dog suppers. I had the blessed fortune of having a wonderful youth pastor and the life-long friendship of the senior pastor, both of whom I wrote about in my memoir.

The people of Rose Hill Baptist Church stepped into the gap in my life and I will forever and always love them for that. But it is also true that today, Rose Hill is a dying church, supported primarily by the old timers who’ve been there forever. Rose Hill is located in a primarily black neighborhood and it never served the people next-door. It was always about white people driving in from other parts of the community to worship there. There were big fights about all that back in the day. So I reckon on some level Anne Rice is right — we are a cantankerous lot.

And while I have not read Miz Dean’s book, I take it from the discussion that occurred here and at her site that she’s worried about things like that — about the church losing it’s ability to mark the life of a child — the way Rose Hill folks did for me.

I, on the other hand, am not depressed by what I see in today’s youth. I am inspired by them. I think it takes more courage and more discipline to stand for Christ today than ever before. It thrills me when I see faith in action in a kid’s life. I suppose because it takes me back to such a tender place in my own life.

The one thing I am never about and never want to be about here at this site or even in my own life is being right. What I long for above all else is to live the redeemed life. The kind of life that I witnessed Pastor Smitty living, and The Marine, and The Redhead and the Giver and the Veteran. The kind of life I see in Whitney Ferrin and Jordan Foxworthy and hundreds of other kids.

I sent Miz Dean a note. I’ll tell her all this and ask her forgiveness on the phone when we speak but meanwhile I wanted to tell you. Just because a person’s got a calling on their life doesn’t give them permission to run stampede over somebody else’s life. Passion is a good thing corralled. Unleashed it can be ugly.

If you’re a parent raising kids up in the Lord or a person working in ministry, you’ll probably get a lot of insights out of reading Miz Dean’s book. And if it’s wrangling with issues you’re seeking. this is probably a pretty good stop along the way.

(Editor’s note: For previous post, please go to http://karenzach.com/2010/your-kid-isnt-a-real-christian/)

Letter to the Children of the Fallen

Karen — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 05:49:50 +0000

(Editor’s Note: The following is a piece that I wrote for Newsweek in 2005. I thought its message timely and important as we bring combat troops home from Iraq)

After her own father died in Vietnam, writer Karen Spears Zacharias learned what it was like to be a survivor of war. Zacharias detailed her own experience in a new family memoir, “After the Flag has been Folded: A Daughter Remembers the Father She Lost in Vietnam and the Mother Who Held the Family Together” (William Morrow Co.). She has also taken on a freelance counseling effort, reaching out to the children of today’s fallen servicemen and women with sympathetic letters, late-night phone calls and quiet visits to their homes. They see her as someone who truly understands–just another kid who lost her father in a faraway war. At NEWSWEEK’s request, Zacharias has written them an open letter.

Dear Sons & Daughters of Today’s Fallen:

I read your names: Zane, Tegan, Kadence, Brandon, and Esetavave. And the names of your surviving parents: Sally, Andrea, Linda, Ron, and Latisha.

Then I figure your age, to see if you are yet old enough to remember the parent you lost to war. Or if you are too young to have any memories, like so many of my friends who lost their fathers in the Vietnam War.

I was 9, old enough to have lots of good memories. Such as the way Daddy gently tossed the baseball across home plate so my older brother Frankie could swing for a base hit. Or the time he brought us kids silky soft rabbits for Easter and laughed off Mama’s protestations that our yard would soon be littered with critters. After supper I would sit on Daddy’s lap and rub the palm of my hands across the coarse stubble on his face. It’s in the quiet after supper that I recall my father best. I miss sitting on the front porch and drinking a cup of coffee, reminiscing with him about our family’s growing-up years.

We got word of Daddy’s death on a sun-scorched day in July 1966. We three kids-Frankie, 12, me, and Linda, 7-gathered around Mama, as she bent over the backend of the trailer tending to a bulldog pup.

Grandpa Harve, Mama’s stroke-disabled father, sat nearby in a lawn chair. A white-woven hat and green-lensed sunglasses shielded his eyes.

I don’t know if he was watching us or the military jeep headed up the entrance to Slaughters’ Trailer Court in Rogersville, Tenn.

I can remember endless details of that day, yet, trying with all my might, I still cannot recall the exact moment when the soldier told us that Daddy had been blown up in the battlefields of Vietnam. I hear with aching clarity the wails Frankie made as he punched the walls of that trailer and the sobs of my mama as she walked up and down the hallway, pleading, “Why me, God?”

You might be wondering the same thing: Why you? Why your parent? Why your family? It’s normal to ask, but, trust me, there isn’t an answer that will ease the ache in your gut. Or the anger and frustration that such a loss ignites. Mine was the first generation of children to have war blasted into the living room each night. And, like many of you, I lacked the tools to articulate the confusion I felt as I watched it unfold. So, I retreated to a place of woundedness and began to self-destruct. First out of fear, then anger, then sheer rebellion. At 17, desperate for male attention of any sort, I became pregnant and had an abortion. Frankie was just as confused. He tried to numb the hurt with alcohol then drugs. That only created more problems.

Once she was handed that flag Mama never spoke of Daddy. As a child I resented that. I needed to hear his name, Dave, the way I’d heard it every single day of my life until then. But I was afraid such talk would hurt Mama or Frankie or Linda. Decades passed before our family learned there was healing in talking. The friends I made at Sons & Daughters in Touch and the veterans I’ve befriended have encouraged me honor my father’s memory. They don’t ridicule my tears. They don’t prod me to find closure. I don’t miss my father less with each passing year, I’m simply more aware of all the life he’s missed. You don’t need closure.

You just need acceptance.

To find that you must remember your parent. The jokes they retold, the meals they savored, the way their arms felt upon your shoulders, or the way they smelled when they hugged you close. In other words, they way they loved and cherished you. Your parent died in an effort to bring freedom to others. Don’t misuse your own freedoms to self-destruct.

Honor James, Pamela, Orlando, Bennie, Michael-your mothers and fathers–with a life that will make them as proud of you as you are of them.

Ransom the sacred moments, so that your daddy or mama will be remembered as much for the way they lived as the way they died.

God bless you,

Karen

Your kid isn’t a real Christian

Karen — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 09:46:57 +0000

Confession: I stole this photo from CNN’s article on Ms. Dean

Your kid isn’t a real Christian. She’s faking it. And so is her brother.

That’s the warning issued by Kenda Creasy Dean, author of the new book (you knew it right?) Almost Christian.

Dean, a professor at Princeton Theological Seminary, came to her conclusions after interviewing 3,300 American teens between the ages 13 and 17 about their faith. Dean reportedly discovered that the teens were inarticulate and indifferent about their faith.

Duh. If she thinks teens are inarticulate she ought to spend a little time trying to read the online comment section of ESPN or CNN.

The author says this inability to articulate their faith is proof that American teens are embracing “moralistic therapeutic deism.” Listen, I’m an old woman with a college degree, who has penned a few books and I still had to look that up. I don’t know a single soul in my community, other than my husband, who uses words like that.

The people I know say things like “Git in the truck” or “You et chet? When they speak of God they refer to him as “Our Father” or “Creator” or the old-fashioned “Papa.” If you were to tell one of them that you think their teen is a Deist, they would just assume you are using some cuss word you picked up at the Mall. They might kick your butt for talking bad about their kid that way.

Best I can tell, the author is saying that teens today just don’t get it. Teens don’t yet understand that being a Christian – a real one versus a fake one – means trusting God even when the creek rises and your dog drowns and your mama runs off with the preacher and your daddy sits around the house all day watching Oprah and Extreme Home-Makeover reruns and crying. Dean said it a little different than I did but I went to one them there state schools best known for teaching people how to drive a John Deere tractor.

The suggestion that America’s teens are fake Christians will come as no surprise to most parents. What else do you expect from a generation raised on fake reality TV, in a society that encourages girls and boys alike to outfit themselves with fake boobs and fake booty? (I wonder if Dean knows that booty-boosting panties are the latest advancement in falsies. I try to keep up on all the latest fashion trends. Hot pants haven’t made a come-back since Jeannie C. Riley’s Harper Valley P.T.A. fell off the charts).

The author seems downright indignant about the findings of her study. She even points fingers. (Apparently, that Princeton education didn’t teach her the finger-pointing rule: When you point a finger at someone, there’s three more coming back in your direction.) She says the reason today’s teens are so fake is because “Churches don’t give them enough to be passionate about.”

Y’all forgive me, I don’t mean to be ugly, but there comes a time when a girl needs to speak plainly so as not to confound the educated: Ms. Dean, you need to crawl out from that cubicle and circulate more. Meet some real people.

Meet my daughter who, for a year now, has served as a mentor to a 7-year-old girl. They get together and read books. It may not seem like much to you but for that little girl, those meetings are the highlight of her week. She hates her own mama for going off to prison and abandoning her, but she loves my daughter.

Meet my buddy John’s son. He is an artist and an Eagle Scout. He can talk about his faith in fifty different ways. He learned it from his daddy, I guess. His daddy volunteers with Meals-on-Wheels and writes me stories about the people he meets there.

Or my buddy Kevin who used to write for the Wall Street Journal. This past year, Kevin and his daughter Hannah wrote a book together, The Power of Half. It’s the story of how Hannah,15, challenged her parents to sell their fine home in Atlanta and to give half of the proceeds away. They are using the monies to help build wells to sustain 30 villages in Ghana.

You may have heard of the comedian Jeff Foxworthy? He’s a funny, funny man, but his daughter Jordan? She is as serious as a heart attack. Jordan was 14 when she made her first trip to Kenya and held babies dying of malaria. Jordan decided she was going to be the change she wanted to see in the world, so she raised $500,000 by Tweeting her friends and asking them to donate $10 help these children. I bet if you had bothered to ask Jordan about her faith, you’d have found her to be articulate. I bet she could have schooled you in a thing or two.

You probably never heard of Whitney Ferrin. Whitney was a high school student when she learned that there were 900 homeless youth in Salem, Oregon. Whitney was rightly distressed by that – imagine, 900 homeless kids in the same town where legislators gather to hack away at the schools budgets. Whitney knew she couldn’t rely on those politicians, so she and some friends from church started the I Give a Shirt Foundation (igiveashirt.org). Ten dollars will buy you a snazzy tee. The proceeds are then used to help buy homeless teens the clothes they need. Whitney and her friends have helped outfit hundreds of homeless teens.

Really, Ms. Dean, I am sure you meant no harm by your little survey but you’ve done American teens a huge disservice, not to mention the local churches, youth groups, and youth service organizations working so hard to do the right thing, the God thing.

Maybe the kids you interviewed were intimidated by your education. Maybe you were too harsh to judge. Maybe you only reported on what you wanted to find. I don’t know but you got it wrong. I put 24,000 miles on my car this year traveling from Bennettsville, South Carolina, to Mobile, Alabama, to Phoenix, Arizona, to Bend, Oregon. All along the way I met American teens who understand what it means to be a real Christian. Some of them even consider me a real friend and that brings real tears to my eyes.

They probably wouldn’t have time to answer your survey questions, though. They are way too busy trying to live out their faith the way Jesus did, serving others in deed, and not word only.

(Editor’s note: This story continues at http://karenzach.com/2010/more-on-fakes/)

(If you know of a teen who is living out their faith, tell us about them)

God does not love America

Karen — Sun, 29 Aug 2010 17:14:06 +0000

God does not love America.

If that offends you, you have a problem.

God does not love Israel.

Israel as a nation is a construct of the Truman Administration and some legal wrangling within the United Nations.

I know we have been taught — truly indoctrinated — to think otherwise. I get it. It’s a hard truth to realize that as a nation God is no more devoted to us than he is to Afghanistan or Iraq, Iran or North Korea. It’s like learning that your mama loves your brother as much as she loves you. It’s disappointing to not be the favorite.

But when it comes to nation-building, God does not play favorites.

I understand how we got to this place — the place where we believe that we are God’s BFF.

We packed up our wooden trunks, left Granny and the chickens behind, because it was obvious to us, if not to our neighbors, that Europe was morally and religiously corrupt. We were going to be a better people than they were. We were going to go all out for God. We were going to worship him in a way that was denied us in Europe. We were going to create the pure society. We’d teach the world what being sold out to God really looked like. Oh. Yeah, we’d teach the world to sing, too.

So across the seas we came, puking and dying along the way. That’s how we roll. Us Americans. We’ll die for anything. It’s the living for something we struggle with.

We came with the intent of establishing the first true faith-based community of like-minded believers. No matter that in our pursuit of being God’s BFF, we had to slaughter folks and steal territory. For you, God, anything.

But, shocking as it may seem now, establishing a pure society is hard to do when you’re working with people. Especially people who aren’t all that like-minded. It was an awful choice to make but in our blinded pursuit of being God’s BFF, we were willing to hang our own, unless they conformed.

That’s the toll exacted of a nation-building people. We have to be willing to turn on our own if we ever want to prove our worthiness as God’s BFF.

But the thing we keep missing, over and over and over again, is that God never asked us to prove our worthiness to him.

He sent Jesus for that purpose.

God is not into nation-building.

God does not love America.

In fact, scriptures are replete with story after story of man being asked repeatedly to pledge allegiance to someone other than God and those who were considered God’s BFF were the ones who resolutely refused to.

God is a jealous God. We know that.

If our allegiance to a personality or to the message of another flawed human being is such that we take offense at any criticism of that personality or that message , then, Huston, we got a problem.

God said: You shall not have any gods before me. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind.

God does not love America.

He loves the people of America. The people of Iraq, Iran, North Korea, South Korea, China, all of Europe and South America. Every unknown tribe of every unknown nation. God loves them all. “For God so loved the WORLD, that he gave his only begotten son, so that whosoever believes in him will not perish but will have everlasting life.”

It’s not about us.

We are not God’s BFF, folks.

God does not love America.

Conversation from the TweetDeck

Karen — Sat, 28 Aug 2010 18:04:17 +0000

Ashley and Zack dropped by last night at the tail-end of their summer vacation. They did a hike through the Cascades – 43 miles in two days. Poor Ashley’s feet looked like a POWs on a death march – swollen and bloodied.
I knew just how to remedy that – I took them out to Starbucks. We sat outside in the sunshine, catching up on all the latest news. I mentioned to them about the Restoring Honor rally in D.C. Told them about how it was all the talk on Twitter.

Ashley is 28, Zack is 30, but neither of them Twitter. They don’t read the Huffington Post, either. In fact, they didn’t even know what Huffington Post was until I explained it to them. I spent the better part of the conversation explaining Twitter and hash tags and things of absolutely no lasting or eternal value. But I needed to give them some context so they would understand a story I was telling them.

I do Twitter. You can find me there @karenzach. But I realize that some of you may be like Ashley and Zack so I here’s my quick tutorial. Twitter is an online, like Facebook, only you can’t post anything over 140 characters. That amounts to something like: “See Spot Run. See Dick Run. See Jane Puke.” Every period, every space, every letter counts. If you go over the 140 limit you’ll have to revise or your comment won’t be posted. When it’s posted, you have followers, or people you follow – like your friends on Facebook. They can see what you’ve written, and respond or not.

Hash tags are just the # sign, followed by label like #demondogs. All the comments with the hashtag #demondogs will be grouped together so that everyone who has ever had their nose bitten by their dog can commiserate together.

I’m explaining all this because yesterday, after a friend left a comment on this blog “You can lead people to knowledge but you can’t make them think”, I tweeted that comment and gave it the hash tag of #restoringhonor #glennbeck.

It was a joke people, directed at all the hoopla and idolatry of Glenn Beck. Well, what happened was that all of sudden all these Beckites began to retweet my message. Retweet means you can hit a button and it will send out someone else message to all your own followers. And I began to get all these messages from people thinking I am just like them.

It was funny to me because it just proved the point – about people not thinking for themselves. A quick cursory look at my previous tweets or even my blog and a person could pretty quickly determine that I’m no fan of Glenn Beck or his agenda. In fact, just a few minutes before tweeting that quote, I had put up another tweet: “Is Glenn Beck Ann Coulter in drag or is Ann Coulter Glenn Beck in drag? I can never keep it straight.” (I’m betting as soon as all those Beckites read this post, they are going to go banshee on me.)

I must confess that I did not watch the Restoring Honor rally. I didn’t YouTube it , Facebook it, or live stream it. I did, however, follow the rally via Twitter. In fact, I have pulled together a conversation of sorts among the folks who were tweeting.

Just for the record, I have no problem restoring honor – in this country or any other one. I just don’t happen to think the way you do that is by gathering at some watering hole and ranting and raving about it. I think you do that by living quietly the way we are instructed to do in Scriptures: “And that you study to be quiet, and to do your own business, and to work with your hands as we commanded you, that you may walk honestly toward them that are without and that you may have lack of nothing.” Thessalonians 4:11-12

So out of consideration for those of you, my friends, who don’t Tweet I’ve pulled together some highlights from behind the Tweet desk, a conversation from those who were there and those who were observing it.

For the record, I hold President Obama personally responsible for this. If nothing else, it’s apparent to me that the Restoring Honor rally is exactly the sort of civil unrest one can expect in a nation where too many white people are unemployed and have nothing better to do than to fawn over some messianic hopeful.

But I’ve always maintained that I don’t want to tell you what to think. Here’s the conversation, you are welcome and encouraged to draw your own conclusions:

@ShaunKing #restoringhonor a moment of honor to God and our country.

God is moving, people. God is moving. Get in, get in, GET IN #restoringhonor

It has nothing to do with politics. It has everything to do with God. #restoringhonor

@TruthfulTweets: “Glenn Beck is one of America’s most trusted and honored citizens.” ~ J Huntsman #restoringhonor

@smencimer: Beck has officially become a televangelist. #restoringhonor

This is not about politics, it’s about God.” Don’t overthrow the government, go back to church. #restoringhonor

@tillerylakelady: RT @mlwebb: Why can’t our country’s leaders have this kind of love and zeal for America? #RestoringHonor

@americanshadow: Listen to the Glen Beck Rally, he’s not selling us HOPE like obama but rather GIVING us HOPE. #restoringhonor

I haven’t seen one single teleprompter today at #RestoringHonor rally. These people, all of them, are speaking from their hearts. #828

@CatholicNotions: Wow. This is so inspiring! *Unity!* #restoringhonor

@theRealExTex: I pray that the Grace of Our Lord will enter the hearts of Liberals and rid them of the awful burden of HATE they carry.

@DivineMoments: Open your hearts, Libs. Evil shrinks in the Light of Love. #restoringhonor

”Liberals hold us individually responsible for nothing but collectively responsible for everything.” ThomasSowell #RestoringHonor

@PoliticalJules: At least the haters are watching. Planting a seed in their hearts. God works miracles through us. #828

@DrewWalker7: Do not allow #p2 to steal your joy today. We conservatives know the meaning and purpose behind #RestoringHonor. Rise above ignorance.

@pamelagorman: Gotta ask: If ur so offended by name Jesus & hate these folks- Y are U watching?!

@waddatwit: The hate speech & dirty language that ppl R using abt #restoringhonor is another indication that the nation needs to restore honor.

#restoringhonor A woman has been puking on “Phase Three” stage for over 60 Minutes. Death panels may be something to think about.

@RobSmithJr: I have not seen a better commemoration of Martin Luther King, Jr. & his dream than Glenn Beck’s Restoring Honor Rally. #restoringhonor

To everyone calling the #glenn beck event a gathering of KKK raciest: are you calling Alveda King, niece of MLK, a raciest as well?

There’s more black Americans on Glenn Beck’s stage than at Al Sharpton’s Rally. #restoringhonor

@ConservativeLA: Only a politically-suicidal mindset would look at #RestoringHonor and see racism. Left is as done as done can be.

@petercoffin: It’s nice to see black people and white people coming together to hate Arabs and Mexicans. #restoringhonor

@sarahherring: The white people are trying to act like they have some “soul.” Haha. #RestoringHonor

I could really do without the music, @glennbeck, @restoringhonor #restoringhonor

Rally attendees looking confused as parade of black singers perform in front of Lincoln. “I want my money back,” said one. #RestoringHonor

@mpk33: The Left is here and they’re picking fights with #restoringhonor attendees. Just saw physical assult.

Jesus also criticized people who were hypocrites – claiming to be holy but not compassionate #restoringhonor

@cspanwj #restoringhonor Uh Mr Beck u are the media aren’t u?

@michellemalkin: Ha! T-shirt at #restoringhonor rally: “Does the Constitution say we the sheeple?”

@JosephAGallant: THOMAS SOWELL: Our schools are teaching children what to think, but not how. Artificial Stupidity. #RestoringHonor

After today it’s safe to say that the only threat Glenn Beck poses is to history majors and teachers #glennbeck

CNN Commentary

Karen — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 15:29:50 +0000

I have an essay over at the CNN site. To read it Click Here.

When is Enuff Enuff?

Karen — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 06:15:12 +0000

Dear Ms. Robin:

Thank you for sending me this very thoughtful invitation. I’m sure you are a very smart woman. Anyone who charges people money in order to teach others how to not spend money so that the person teaching others how not to spend money can make more money ought to be running for Congress.

Regrettably, I will not be attending your class. It’s just one less thing for me to pay for and one less thing for me to do. See what a quick learner I am? Everyone says so.

You might benefit from reading Will Jesus Buy Me a Double-Wide? Seems like you have some issues you might need to work on.

Karen

P.S. Are you related to Joel Osteen, Bernie Madoff or David Cerullo? Just wondering.

MONEY, HAPPINESS & ENOUGH

Announcing the new Fall Teleclasses

with Vicki Robin

Greetings!

Vicki Robin here, coauthor of the bestseller Your Money or Your Life, inviting you to join me for my 5-week teleclass:

The Power of Enough
How Much is Enough?
Of Anything?
And How do we Know?

The teleclass starts on September 13, 5:15-6:30 PM PST and we’ll cover the 8 principles and 12 practices of “enough” with a lot of honesty, insight, good-humor and community. Anyone can listen in to Class One as our guest though I hope you’ll sign up for the series now – and there’s a discount if you do.

As the nearly 300 of you joined the recent How Much is Enough?free webinar produced by the Environmental Protection Agency know, the idea of “enough” is a powerful challenge to the culture of more.

The focus was money and the environment (it was the EPA after all), but it could have been about food. Or time. Or “to-do’s”. Or committees. Or emails.

We’ve been told that “more is better” but that little idea has made a big mess of our lives. We do too much, have stuff we don’t need, are stressed, sick, tired, overwhelmed and way out of balance. We’ve lost our true appetite for life and that naturally comes with a stop signal.

Sound all too familiar? Well, in this class you will have the opportunity to take back your life. And time. And calendar. And inbox. And peace of mind.

The Power of Enough; How Much is Enough? Of Anything? And how do we Know? classes are weekly from 5:15-6:30 PM PST and conducted on the phone (not the web so you participate at home, on the bus, in a coffee shop or even watching the sunset).

Class One is called Free Enough; Having More of What Matters Most and I’m inviting you to listen in on that one to see if you want to do the whole class. Go ahead. Click the link and you’re in.

If you only want to take the free class, be my guest. You’ll get some key insights into your “too muchness” in just that hour+.

I hope you’ll go for the whole ride, though. People in last year’s class cleared out more that closets. They cleared out whatever got in the way of a balanced life – overwork, dead relationships, too-big homes. What do you want to work on in the context of an insightful, supportive community?

Thanks for reading all this. I’ll be back in your inbox (not too much I hope) a few times this week to tell you about my free money classes, the new KickStart your FI Engineteleclass – and an exciting trip to Brazil. I hope to “see” you in all our Fall classes,
Vicki

32 years and counting

Karen — Thu, 26 Aug 2010 06:38:24 +0000

The Anniversary Column/photo by Raleigh Studios

My career has put me on the road so much that my friends are beginning to suspect I’m in the witness-protection program. I might move less if that were the case. I was visiting with a gal at Starbucks recently. She told me that she had heard from another woman, who heard from a “very good authority” that Tim and I are divorcing.

It’s not the first time in decades of wedded chaos that I’ve heard that rumor. I can’t really blame folks for their concerns. Tim and I do have a very unconventional marriage, even by left-coast standards. One friend sent me an email suggesting that my marriage would make a great beer commercial: “Tim’s the luckiest husband I know. You FINALLY get a job and it’s 3,000 miles away.”

At the time my friend sent that email I was working and living in Fayetteville, North Carolina while Tim was working and living in Oregon.

My husband is a fine-looking fellow. People have run him down in the grocery store aisles to ask if he was John Stockton. Or maybe Kenny Loggins. The only celebrities I’ve ever been compared to are Martha Stewart, after she was indicted, or Roseanne Barr, after the plastic surgery. Women often confess to me that they are crushing on my husband.

I suppose I ought to worry more than I do, but unfaithfulness isn’t part of Tim’s nature. It’s not that I think either of us are beyond temptations, nor does he, but Tim is a man for whom integrity counts. When he gives his word – as he did when we took those fumbling vows on August 26, 1978 – he meant it. Every little tittle.

Strangers and friends alike will stand gap-mouthed when I tell them Tim and I have been married 32 years. They act like they’ve just witnessed John the Baptist drop his loin clothe or something. “How do you do it?” they ask. Or they’ll grab my forearm and declare, “You are such an inspiration to me.”

If only they knew.

And they always ask, “What’s your secret?”

The thing is there is no secret. If there was I’d have written that book. Simply put marriage is a lot of hard work, and despite our faults (which are too numerous and too embarrassing to recount), Tim and I are hard workers. Even on our worst days, neither one of us has been willing to give up. Walk away. Call it quits. We’re both stubborn that way.

Tim grew up in a missionary home. I grew up in a military home. We learned early that there was value in serving a purpose greater than ourselves. When my calling takes me all the way across country, or even across the wide blue seas, Tim sends me off, reluctantly, sure, but with the confidence that I am trying to lead a purposeful life. And I leave him behind in that same spirit.

We both understand that in order for our marriage to last another 30 years, we have to ignore the gossip, and continue to try and lead lives of intention.

And when we fail, as we often do, we fall face first at the foot of the cross that first brought us together all those years ago.

Happy Anniversary, Babe. Thank you for loving me.

P.S.

-Our rehearsal dinner was held in a trailer park.

- My Georgia girlfriends gave me a wedding shower in Mama’s trailer

- We moved into Tim’s parents 5th-wheel trailer and lived there for the first eight months of married life

- Made my first peach pie in a trailer. Used a Mason jar to roll out the crust.

- Played a lot of card games with Tim and Peggy Wright in that trailer.

- Accidently made a babe in that trailer.

- Had that babe in Mama’s trailer.

See? I told you that nearly all of my important moments in life have taken place in a trailer.

A Letter to the President

Karen — Thu, 26 Aug 2010 01:38:14 +0000

Dear President Obama:

Hope this finds you well. I am sorry I haven’t made the time to write. It’s been a hectic year, what the demon dog nearly taking off the end of my nose and with the release of my latest book – Will Jesus Buy Me a Double-Wide?

It’s not exactly up to snuff with Franzen’s work but I think you’d find it entertaining. It might even give you some perspective on the state of the nation right now, which FoxNews keeps saying you need.

That’s really what I want to speak to you about — the state of things. While I’m not a trained economist, I have made it my business to study our nation’s economic growth over the past few years, especially since that yellow-bellied low-life egg-sucking dawg of a man Bernie Madoff ripped off all those good-hearted people. (By the way, you might want to send some of your folks down to North and South Carolina and look into the affairs of David Cerullo. I think he’s ripped off the taxpayers in both those states in a similar fashion as Mr. Madoff, that egg-sucking dawg.)

Now, I’m an admitted hack. I wasn’t smart enough to get into any of them high-flutin’ schools like you and the Missus. The way I see it in this world you have to have brains, beauty, money or talent. I was short on the first three but turns out I did okay on that last one. It helps that Mama taught me to work hard. There was a time in this country when a person could advance themselves through hard work.

That was back before Reality TV.

Back before Jon and Kate Gosselin became America’s model parents.

Now before you dismiss me, Mr. President, you should consider that when it comes to parenting, I know a thing or two. I raised four children to bright shining adulthood. They all are gainfully employed and have their own health insurance plans. They volunteer in their community; they call their mama or daddy nearly every day; they go to church on Sundays; and they do their family proud. Not a single one of them has ever spent the night in jail. As far as I know they haven’t held up any convenience stores and they have avoided public drunkenness and lewd behavior.

If this sounds like bragging, well I earned those rights. Their daddy and me, we worked hard to raise them up rightly. We banned television from our home and read to them from an early age. We taught them civic responsibility and public service. We prayed over them and we wept over them from time to time. They aren’t perfect but they are pretty darn fine people.

And the truth is, I know a bunch of folks just like them. In fact, I’m amazed at all the 20 and 30-years-olds I’ve met that are just like my kids. Good people. People who get that there’ is more to life than rabid consumerism and reality television. I am proud of every single one of ‘em. I wish you could spend an hour with my friend Sarah Thebarge or Penny Carothers or Hugh Hollowell. I could go on and on, naming names but it wouldn’t do any good.

Because it seems that these days, name dropping only counts if you’ve had your own reality TV show like the Gosselins. I wish somebody would explain to me how it is two people who can’t get along any better than these two people do, end up becoming authors of books on how to be a better baby mama or baby daddy. As far as I’m concerned that would be like Tiger Woods writing a book on faithfulness.

I tell you what, I liked to fell out when I learned Jon Gosselin was going to pen a book on fathering. Who prints this anyway? More importantly, what nimrod is going to buy a book written by a fellow who couldn’t follow simple directions in the grocery store? (Did you see that episode where Kate went banshee on him in Wal-Mart?)

I helped put you in office, Mr. President and so far, I don’t have too many regrets, though I have to tell you that whole bail-out thing? That was wrong-headed and it is gonna come back and bite you in the arse. Take my word for it. My friend Shellie, she thinks I’m a prophet. She told me I was going to die an ugly death because of it. I’m worried some about that.

But until then I’m just plain worried about the way Jon and Kate Gosselin have destroyed this country. Have you noticed that ever since they started making the cover of People magazine, the economy and our education system have completely tanked?

They should be considered a national security risk. I know we don’t send people off to Guantanamo now that you’re in charge, but couldn’t we send them to North Korea? Kim Jong-il seem to know how to put the fear of God in people.

I bet that if you packed up all the reality TV people on one boat and shipped them to North Korea, your ratings with the general public would greatly improve. It might even help you in the next election.

I’m pretty sure it would help the economy.

The only thing is you’d have to send an entire Navy fleet to get them there safely. Otherwise, they’d just turn their ship into a party boat and start filming another series.

I’m praying every night that God turns this country around and delivers us from the mass media that is Jon and Kate Gosselin.

I pray for you and the Missus and the girls, too.

Warmest Regards,

Karen Spears Zacharias