nice people: why we won’t cave to medical cowardice

We got 13 inches of snow last weekend, and shortly afterward our daughter lost a lens outside while sledding. Or maybe it was when they put sleds away. Or maybe it was somewhere in between. She had no idea, so we scoured the yard in ten-degree temps looking for it after she came in and told us. And then that night, in zero degrees, my husband and I looked again with flashlights.

Yeah, no. We didn’t find it.

nice people: why we won't cave to medical cowardice

So we called to get it replaced. But no, you can’t just get it replaced; her prescription was one year and 49 days ago, and those 49 days make a huuuuuge difference because they mean she needs a whole new exam, according to the eye doctor’s office.

I told them we pay out of pocket, and we don’t do recreational medical appointments.

They gave us a little runaround but eventually acquiesced a little, to the point of making an appointment for me (because, Dorothy, we’re not in our 30s anymore) and during my appointment, my daughter could walk in to get the lens in her glasses replaced. So far, so good.

Until the lady said they require masks.

Now, just so you know…I have a medical exemption for at least three reasons. But this isn’t about medical exemptions, just as it isn’t about medical care or science or critical thinking.

This office didn’t care about medical exemptions; they require masks.

“So,” I asked, “your office discriminates against those who cannot wear masks for medical reasons?”

“No, this is a private practice,” the receptionist said. (I’m pretty sure this is the same one that answered the phone earlier with, “Hellocanyoupleaseholdthanks.” It wasn’t a good start.) “It’s Dr. Whatshisname’s policy.”

“Oh! So it’s Dr. Whatshisname who discriminates against people with medical exemptions?” Yeah, I’m that fun at parties, too.

After a few seconds of bluster and stammering, she went for the plandemic talking points about numbers and “safety” that have nothing to do with medical care, science, or critical thinking, as I already mentioned.

“If Dr. Whatshisname believes all that,” I said, “he’s not someone I would trust with any form of medical care for my kids or myself. Please cancel our appointments.”

And that’s when she hung up on me. (I bet she’s real fun at parties, too.)

Now, I know there are a lot of nice people out there just doing their jobs. Just sending their kids to school. Just going to work, just not rocking the boat. But don’t expect me to believe that these people are wearing masks for the health of others, because it is their perpetuation of the myth that prevents people like me who cannot wear a mask from getting medical care.

“I don’t wear it for me, I wear it for you” is a bunch of self-righteous BS and I’m over it.

Next we tried Dr. Whosit, recommended by one of my best friends. Made appointments. It looked good. And then they said to bring a mask.

Whoops.

“I can’t wear a mask, and I won’t make my kids wear them, either,” I said.

“Well, it’s our policy, blah blah, can you bring a medical exemption letter?”

“I don’t need to bring a medical exemption letter,” I said. “My medical history in other areas is none of your office’s concern.” And they know that, as does every other medical office, but they’re hoping you and I don’t know that, of course. (Hellloooo, HIPPA!)

“Let me find Dr. Whosit so you can speak to him.” Great, thanks.

A minute on hold, and Dr. Whosit comes on.

“Hi, can I help you?”

I explain our situation. Dr. Whosit is nice but admits that he just does what the State tells him. I answer that I am not going to the state for my medical care, I am looking for someone who actually practices medical science instead of political science in their patient care.

“Well, it’s only for a little while in a small room. Couldn’t you wear a mask for just that time?”

“No, I am not going to suffocate myself or my kid for just a few minutes. Would you?”

No, he wouldn’t, but he was asking me to.

And this is the (lack of) logic we are encountering at every level of this. These people would call OCS or DFYS in a heartbeat should you intentionally cause lung damage to your child or restrict their oxygen in any non-state-approved way, but they balk when you stand up against them for wanting to do it.

The reason they balk is because so many people have no problem actually allowing other people to restrict their children’s oxygen. How dare we question those from their lofty position on a high horse?

if your medical provider is still requiring masks, they either don't understand basic science or they agree to foolish things that morons instruct them to do. Find a better doctor.

I know, they’re just nice people, refusing to rock the boat while simultaneously making excuses for all the leaks in it. This is okay. It’s fine, we’re all fine…and the water just keeps rising, because nice people keep allowing it to.

King Hezekiah was a nice person, too. In the line of Biblical kings, he was actually a pretty good one.

One day Hezekiah gets sick and is about to die. So he prays, and God not only heals him but also provides a miraculous sign to prove that he’s healed. Pretty good, right?

But then Hezekiah gets an impressive visitor who has heard about his sickness, and sends envoys with letters and gifts to him. Hezekiah responds by showing off everything he has, exposing his assets and weaknesses to this foreign entity.

He makes himself look good while thoughtlessly endangering future generations.

But maybe it was unintentional. Maybe he just wasn’t thinking. Maybe he felt sorry about it later.

Or maybe not. Let’s read:

Then Isaiah said to Hezekiah, “Hear the word of the Lord: Behold, the days are coming, when all that is in your house, and that which your fathers have stored up till this day, shall be carried to Babylon. Nothing shall be left, says the Lord. And some of your own sons, who will come from you, whom you will father, shall be taken away, and they shall be eunuchs in the palace of the king of Babylon.” 

Then Hezekiah said to Isaiah, “The word of the Lord that you have spoken is good.” For he thought, “Why not, if there will be peace and security in my days?”

– 2 Kings 20:16-19

Why not? As long as it doesn’t affect my time, and my life is easy, and I’m not inconvenienced, who cares?

I’m pretty sick of nice people, to tell you the truth. Nice people are giving up our freedoms, rolling over so evil people can abuse our children and convince us that it’s the (self)right(eous) thing to do.

I found some leads and made appointments with a new eye care center who is so popular they are booked out for quite a while. Turns out, supporting freedom is actually pretty good for business.

But friends, this is a serious issue: Where are we capitulating? Where are we giving an inch, and they are taking a mile?

We are dealing with vax mandates this year because so many of us capitulated to mask requirements last year.

It might be inconvenient to find a new doctor or optometrist or dentist or hair stylist. I know it’s not easy. It wasn’t easy for us when we moved our whole family last year to a new medical provider, a different church, and new social media platforms. Hey, I can’t even remember our new PO Box number. Change is hard, I get it.

But we’re not called to do easy. We need to remember that. We’re called to do obedience, and to stand for freedom. And if we don’t do it now, our kids and grandkids won’t have a choice about it later.

as weird as you are: what homeschool really is

Homeschooling has always been misunderstood, but 2020 didn’t do it any favors and now there’s even more confusion.

The fall of 2020 saw an unprecedented number of families transfer their kids from public and private school to homeschool. And this fall has been the same, for many of the same reasons; even more parents this year want to make the move to homeschool.

as weird as you are: what homeschool really is

It’s a bold, brave choice that requires a family to make significant changes, and it can be overwhelming. That has never changed; the overwhelm has always been there whether it was last year, this year, or sixteen years ago, when we started.

But this year I’ve noticed one difference: Many parents who wish they could get their kids out of public school have washed their hands of homeschooling because they feel like they tried it last year with the forced lockdown, and it was miserable.

So let me clear something up real quick. This is important:

If, because of lockdowns, you were forced into schooling at home, schooling online, or doing a ton of assignments with your kids that their school told you to do, then I hate to break it to you, but…you didn’t homeschool.

I hope that’s a relief to some of you.

Just because your child did assignments at home doesn’t mean it was homeschool.

If they were still registered with another school and doing everything that school told them to do, a repeat of that experience is not what you would be signing up for if you chose to (really) homeschool.

Because homeschool is not checking off a list that someone else assigned you. Homeschool is not hours and hours in front of a screen in zoom meetings or other online classes. Homeschool isn’t just doing the same things you would do at school, but moving the location to your kitchen table (or the couch, or your bed).

Homeschool is none of those things. So if you were given that impression last year and it left a terrible taste in your mouth, I am so sorry. No one can blame you for saying “We tried homeschool last year and we hated it” because we would hate it that way, too.

But we can show you what it really ought to be. And that should give you hope, especially if you wish there was an alternative to the indoctrinating mess that many public schools have become. If you are tired of the CRT and other agendas, the unhealthy mask mandates, the disregard of parental rights, and you want to make school about education again (whoa, what a concept!), let’s talk about what homeschool really is.

And right from the start, I admit that I can’t give you the full picture. Because homeschool is different for everyone, and that is the beauty of it. It is for you and for your kids, not for a predictable system so they will all go in different and come out the same after being squeezed to conform to a mold they may never fit into.

But here are some basic principles:

We read. A lot. Out loud and quietly, to each other, to younger siblings, to older siblings, to Grandma, to the cats if they will listen. So many books, so little time. When someone’s sick, audiobooks work in a pinch.

We do stuff: Projects and hikes and visits and crafty things and cooking and watching videos and I can’t even tell you what else. At home and elsewhere, on our own and with others, and we’re not limited to a 7 am to 3 pm schedule.

We talk to each other, to extended family members and friends, and others. We discuss what we’re reading and learning. We visit people and talk on the phone, and we’re not segregated into only talking with those in our own age group, economic group, neighborhood, or gender.

We try and fail and change things up, and try again. We’re not stuck with the math program that we hate. We try new language arts programs that might be a better fit. We don’t read the dry textbooks that put you to sleep.

Our curriculum and schedule work for us, not the other way around. We are not a slave to the checklists and to-do lists (and neither are our kids). We adjust our school schedule to our lives instead of adjusting our lives to our school schedule. A new baby is born, or someone gets sick, or some major catastrophe occurs? We learn about basic skills and caring for each other for a few weeks, and the algebra and language arts can wait. There will be time to pick it up again when things settle down. We are flexible when we need to care for each other, help friends, do a major home repair, or get involved in community projects. So much that needs to be known is never learned in school…but it can be learned in homeschool.

Some of the most important learning is not academic, so don’t be afraid to go there.

So friends, if you want to homeschool this year but don’t think you can for a dozen or more reasons, listen to me:

You will be a terrific teacher for your kid. You’ve already been doing it a long time.

You can teach your kids. Yes, it’s hard sometimes. Yes, you’ll be sanctified. But you can go slow, read the books you want, do the activities you want, partner with friends, take advantage of online resources (they cover every subject or topic you could imagine), and make it your own. Make it for them. Make it for your freedom. Make it for their future.

We have all these preconceived ideas about what school should look like, and we feel like we can’t fit the mold. So, newsflash:

There was never meant to be a mold.

School is supposed to be as weird as you are. Go ahead and quote me on that.

____

Need a quick resource for more info? HSLDA has a terrific site right here, with everything you need to know (legal, local, academic, and otherwise) to get started.

the challenge: working through it together

Every year we choose new books to read (do you do this, too?), but last year we started something different – we did a reading challenge. Sounds fancy, doesn’t it?

But it’s not, really. Just search the internet and you’ll find a hundred variations. Iree joined us and the three of us teamed up together to read 104 books. Two books per week seems like a lot, but between all of us, it seemed doable.

But we quickly discovered that it wasn’t, quite.

the challenge: working through it together

It wasn’t the number of books, but the categories that threw us. And I understand that the point of a challenge is to, well, challenge you, but there was only one slot for “a book you have no interest in” and I own too many books that I actually want to read to bother digging around with so many categories that were on there that I don’t.

So, taking a languid approach to it, we crossed the boring/inapplicable categories off as we went and replaced them with creative ones that were less boring (cough) more to our taste. Because seriously, I value theology and Christian living, but there were SO MANY of them on there, and absolutely nothing on writing, crafts, psychology, ancient history, criminology, or any of the other weird stuff we also really like.

And by the end of the year our list was a mess, but it was much more fun, and yes – we were still challenged.

This year we did it again, but started off with a clean list. We made sure the categories were both realistic and interesting right off the bat. We crowded around the kitchen island, just throwing ideas out there.

A book written by someone you know. A book with a character you’d want to be friends with. A book about a disaster. A book about personal growth. A book Shannon quoted in one of her books. A book of 800 pages or more. A memoir or autobiography. A book by Dickens.

“A book on Napoleonic history,” Vin suggested.

“Uhh…” Iree and I looked at each other.

“Only if you’re going to read it,” she said. (He said he would.)

Cham came in and we asked her for suggestions. And if you don’t know her, you will after hearing her ideas:

“A book about biology…a book on dissecting. Ohh! A book on cadavers!”

Yeah. Well…we only added one of those ideas; I’ll let you guess which.

There’s so much that we don’t know. We’ll read hundreds, thousands, of pages this year, and aside from the people we hang out with and the time we spend in prayer, very few things will influence our growth like these pages. So it’s important to choose good ones, and to enjoy the time spent with them.

I’m not kidding myself; I know I won’t remember most of what I read. I won’t like or agree with everything that I read. But even without remembering all the facts and storylines and characters and historical figures, we will be changed. The pages will leave an impression that wasn’t there last year.

Last year I started reading Plutarch’s Lives alongside Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Several months in, I realized my mistake. I thought they would reinforce each other, but usually I just get more confused as I try to untangle them from each other every week.

But I am learning.

I don’t remember all the individual lives in Plutarch, and I couldn’t tell you the exact timeline in Gibbon. But what I can tell you is an impression of these cultures and times. I can tell you that there were leaders who had wisdom for the ages, including ours. And there were also leaders who were so abhorrent in their depravity and disregard for the lives of others that the horrors they committed are hard to believe.

But they are in the history books. We generally don’t argue with them.

So, quick question, because I have to go there – why do people disbelieve or disregard the horrors we hear about today? Why are we so quick to mock and accuse people of being conspiracy theorists when they share information about celebrities and politicians doing abhorrent things?

Is it because they’re not in the history books yet? Is it because we have no interest in those categories?

Is it because those topics challenge us too much?

Or is it because we are their contemporaries, and their proximity to our own lives makes us uncomfortable? Because if these things are happening in the world we live in (and they are – it takes very little research to discover it, though you’ll have to use a search engine that doesn’t censor to do it, and you absolutely should not do so without being prayed up), then either a) we might be somewhat responsible that they exist, or b) we might need to do something about it so they no longer exist.

And those aren’t good, easy, fun options. It’s much more comfortable to shoot the messenger, lump it all as conspiracy theory and applaud the censorship that silences them, and move along with our noses heads held high.

I’ve heard some people disavow information simply because it didn’t match their personal experience. And I’m grateful they haven’t personally experienced anything that horrific, but our personal experiences do not define or limit the reality of other people experiences. It is arrogant, narcissistic, and foolishly ignorant to act like it does.

We still have so much to learn.

Hear me, friend: Children chained to beds and starved was not in my personal experience until we got involved in adoption.

Children who weighed 24 pounds at age four were not in my personal experience until we started our adoption paperwork. We converted kilos to pounds in astonishment; it had to be a miscalculation. But it wasn’t.

Children who were so neglected that they were only nine pounds at nine years old were not in our personal experience until we got involved with the people who were adopting them.

Our lack of personal experience did not prevent their existence or the abuse. It only proved our ignorance.

Our personal experience is not the epitome of reality. It is arrogant to assume that our x amount of years in any field (professional, personal, or otherwise) qualifies us to deny the reality of someone else’s differing experience, especially when it comes in the form of testimony with evidence and witnesses.

Just because something is so devastating that it is hard to believe, doesn’t mean it isn’t actually true.

And just because you don’t find information about fraud, horrific child abuse, or other crimes perpetrated by the elite on mainstream media (which no longer even attempts to hide how blatant their censorship is) doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. It just means they want us to think it doesn’t…and that should lead us to some very important questions about what they have to lose.

There are many things that are hard to believe, but are nevertheless reality, regardless of how uncomfortable they make us feel, or how much we hate those categories.

And coming to understand that – and working through it together, with respect and love – may be the real challenge we all go through this year.