Bees in My Bonnet

 I'm going to let a bee fly out of my bonnet just now, so brace yourself. The term 'Best Practice' annoys me. It annoys me A LOT. It has burned me. I've used it myself; I've had it promoted to me. I've seen it in research, in literature, in pseudo-guru-speak jargon. And now I think I finally have the courage to push back. Hang On a minute!! Isn't 'Best Practice' automatically, by its very literal nature, completely warranted as acceptable? Doesn't everyone want to follow 'Best Practice' in every situation? Actually, No. No, we don't. And I'll tell you why. Because it's arrogant, proud, assuming, and lacking in nuance. It lacks a 'here and now' understanding of things. Sure, there's probably times where 'best practice' is helpful. If you are a clinician of some sort, and following a static experimental process; if you are a professional whose work is to follow exacting procedures, fine, go ahead, and consult

I notice there are lots of articles out there for parents to address how to raise a kid who has A.D.D. or is on the Autism spectrum. And for good reason! There are unique challenges and difficulties that arise in helping a child to grow whose brain wiring and personality are different than the norm. I get that. Mostly because I was  that child, and I have  that/those child(ren).  I used to write a lot as a child - sometimes inventing imaginative stories, sometimes just chronicling my life. It was a way I could cope with all the world around me. And I dreamed of being a writer someday - of putting my thoughts on paper and seeing them reflected back to me, and imagining others would read my words, and they would land in other hearts. Like an arrow going out from my inner life and landing in the soul of another. And as I grew and had my struggles, and faced my woes (I was a lamenting type of soul from very young, apparently), I made a sacred vow to myself. 'Never forget.' Never fo

 People tell me I've had an interesting life. And finally, I've begun to believe them. But here's the thing: I was taught that talking and writing about myself was a form of self-centredness. When I was younger, I used to talk about myself and my life and experiences and stories quite freely. But likely some of this was excessive. And along the way, with certain ones giving me negative input and reprimanding me over this issue, I became more cautious. Now, likely some of this negative input was valid. Maybe I was self-centred. Maybe I did talk about myself too much. And well-meaning others meant to help me learn to interact better. And I hope, these many years later, I have learned something of the value of limiting the telling of my life. But I'm not sure the shaming and reproach were exactly helpful to my soul in this matter. And I've had to overcome a lot to even begin to tell some of my life here on my blog.  Joseph in the Bible comes to mind. He had dreams and

 Part of being highly distractable is that when something is mentioned that has a whole category of memory or feeling, the mind takes a small hiatus - a short adventure into the realm of everything-in-that-category. This happened to me on Sunday when the sermon was regarding the 10 lepers (or, more accurately, the 9 and the 1). He was talking about what gratitude looks like, and trying to help us appreciate, in some small measure, what having leprosy was like in those days. He started saying how it was a socially isolating disease, a disease of separation, loneliness, scorn, rejection, humiliation. They had to walk about if they encountered healthy others, by calling out, 'unclean' to warn people to stay away. And he went on to focus on the theme of his sermon, which was gratitude. But I was already captivated, and brought to tears.  (There is something very healing about church: I go there to cry, then wait a whole week to return, only to cry again).   I believe God speaks thr