Accountability

It is not only what we do, but also what we do not do, for which we are accountable.

Moliere

I’m apparently an accountability partner.  My friend has decided this.  Apparently, this means that he will be telling me every last detail about anything.  He is likely going to drive me absolutely batty during this period while I am his accountability partner.

Being accountable for our own actions sounds like common sense.  Sharing with someone else what you’re doing sounds a little odd.  But it doesn’t sound odd at all either.  It sounds like a way to keep to your word.  When you would have to tell someone what you did, or didn’t do, that you’d feel their disappointment for what went wrong.  It would be encouragement enough to some people to stick to their word.

I’ve never had an accountability partner, nor been an accountability partner, to my knowledge; at least never with the title.  I don’t know what to expect or what this will entail.  All I can expect is that it will mean more to him than it will to me.

Habits

A nail is driven out by another nail; habit is overcome by habit.

-Latin Proverb

Habits often appear as very strange idiosyncrasies. I discovered today that I still walk around a spot on the floor that used to be constantly covered in water due to our late dog who was too old to properly close her mouth while drinking.  Rather than walking down the hallway from the kitchen to the bedroom, I weave from one side to the other, to avoid the empty space where the dog bowls were in the kitchen, and to avoid the door that is frequently open in the bathroom.

The dog has been dead for months.  There are no longer bowls on the floor in the kitchen.  The floor is always dry.  And yet I still avoid the spot while walking down that hallway.  What a funny habit.

I have other habits too, but I’m more aware of them. I brush my teeth before breakfast.  I lock the door before bed.  These are just part of the routines I have for morning and night.  I add and take away things from these routines and eventually it becomes habit too.

I Remember

Where were you when the world stopped turning…?

Alan Jackson – Where Were You (When The World Stopped Turning)

I was a twelve year old kid ten years ago.  I was sitting in school, in history class ironically enough, when both planes hit.  I remember glimpses of the day.  I couldn’t tell you what we were studying, only that with every hour more of my classmates were taken home by their parents.  I remember the looks on my teacher’s faces.  I remember their hushed whispers.  I remember not knowing what was going on.  I remember being scared.

The next day I went back to school.  It was a Wednesday.  We didn’t learn anything in school that day, or the rest of the week.  Many students were still kept home by their parents.  Teachers were unable to think, much less plan lessons.  We were being babysat rather than taught.  I remember we had construction paper.  We were drawing signs and writing cards.

We posted signs up on the walls.  “God Bless America” “In God We Trust” “United We Stand” “Never Forget”  We wrote encouraging cards to send to the New York Police Department and the Fire Department of New York and the Port Authority of New York.  We wrote letters to the families wishing them luck finding family members, and encouraging them to stay strong and hopeful.

I remember when I left school everyone had American flags in their yards, on their cars, outside buildings.  Flags were raised high and proudly.  Neighbors were cheerful and wishing each other well wishes.

I remember how close we felt as a nation.  I remember how supportive of each other we were.  I miss that.  What happened in the last ten years?  Why can I drive down the street and not see a single flag?  Why can I say hello to a neighbor and get a grunt, if anything, in reply?  What changed?

In no way do I wish to have another attack like we had ten years ago.  I do wish there was something to bring us together again though.

Natural disasters haven’t done it.  Hurricane Ivan didn’t bring us together in 2004.  Hurricane Katrina and Hurricane Rita didn’t bring us together in 2005.  The tornadoes in April, stretching from Alabama to Ontario didn’t bring us together this year.  The tornado in Joplin this past May didn’t bring us together this year.  I don’t wish for a stronger natural disaster though either.

I don’t suppose there will be another event that unites the country as strongly as the attacks in New York and Washington D.C. did ten years ago.  I just hope that if there is, its not nearly as tragic.

Submission

Submission is not about authority and it is not obedience; it is all about relationships of love and respect.

William P. Young – The Shack

Submission is a word I have trouble personally defining.  I know what the word means.  I just don’t know what the word means to me.  The dictionary tells me that submission is “an act or instance of submitting”* and “submissive conduct or attitude.”*  To submit is “to yield oneself to the power or authority of another”** or “to allow oneself to be subjected to some kind of treatment.”**  Submissive is “inclined or ready to submit; unresistingly or humbly obedient.”***  All these definitions are easy to see and understand, and yet applying them to me is strangely difficult.

I’ve grown up knowing the word submission.  I’ve known what it meant and what it was used for.  It was used heavily in the church, especially around Valentines Day or whenever there was a wedding.  I heard it growing up at least once a year and as I grew older in the church we began studying the passages in the Bible that taught us how to treat our significant others and soon-to-be-spouses.

“Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord.  For the husband is the head of the wife, as also Christ is the head of the church; and He is the Savior of the body.  Therefore, just as the church is subject to Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in everything.”  Ephesians 5:22-24  We were told that our wives should treat us as the lord in their home.  We were told that we should be respected and obeyed as the head of the household.  We were told that we were saving our wife from the world.  We were told that wives were to be submissive to husbands.

Where does this leave me?  I am not the wife, and yet I feel no desire, strong or otherwise, to be a firm leader of the household, to be looked up to as the lord in my home.  I want nothing less than to be a leader.  I am a follower.

“Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself for her, that He might sanctify and cleanse her with the washing of water by the word, that he might present her to Himself a glorious church, not having spot or wrinkle or any such thing, but that she should be holy and without blemish.  So husbands ought to love their own wives as their own bodies; he who loves his wife loves himself.  For no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as the Lord does the church.”  Ephesians 5:25-29  The men have no such requirement of submitting to their wives.  They are told to cherish her, to love her, to take care of her, but there is no similar sentiment of being subject to the thoughts or rulings of the wife.  Men are told to be obedient to the Lord, obedient to the church, but not obedient to the wife. 

Where does this leave me?  Where do I fit in to this idea?  I can fit better into cherishing her, loving her, taking care of her, but I also want to be obedient to her.  I don’t want to be the deciding voice.  I can’t even make my own decisions.  How can I be the leader, the decider, for someone else?

Animals too have their own values of submission.  There is no God, no Lord, no church in the lives of an animal.  The only law is that of Darwinism.  The strongest live, the weaker submit or die.  I find it easier to relate to the submission of animals.  There is one dominant leader in a group.  The others follow and survive.  The dominant makes the rules, makes the decisions, and keeps everyone together and well.  Followers in the group do not question the dominant.  They know that obedience keeps them alive.

A wolf has its pack.  One alpha pair and many followers.  The alphas eat first.  The alphas are the pair to mate.  The alphas decide where to den and when to move.  The alpha decides every part of the follower’s life.

I can relate to this idea of submission easier than the one provided by the church.  Here there is one leader.  This leader takes care of his or her own.  Here there is no gender determining who is the leader.  It is the strongest who is the leader.  It is the one best fit for the role.  Here there is a simple hierarchy and everything fits in order.

I like the hierarchy.  It’s a bit difficult to have a full hierarchy with two people though.  There is top and there is bottom.  At the same time, I like it that way.  She is the top.  I am the bottom.  She is the dominant.  I am the submissive.  She is the alpha.  I am the follower.  Things just make sense that way.

Young states that submission is not just about authority and obedience, but about love and respect as well.  I respect her.  I know I respect her.  Do I love her?  I trust her, certainly.  I care for her greatly.  I’m happy when I’m with her.  According to Plutchik ****, love is the combination of trust and joy.  He would say I love her.

* definition of submission, according to http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/submission

** definition of submit, according to http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/submit

*** definition of submissive, according to http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/submissive

**** Robert Plutchik’s list of emotions http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_emotions