I visited one of the most fabulous friends today for an afternoon of playing with our children, six between the two of us. It was a visit complete with dangling costume jewelry and Darth Vader capes. An excellent afternoon of adventure if you ask me.

My friend lives about 30 minutes from our house so it was a little road trip with tollway driving in Chicago to get there. Those of you who live in big cities can relate. You sail along at a safe but respectable above the speed limit pace. Fast enough to feel like you are making good time but slow enough to not be nabbed by your nearest highway patrol person. As you cruise along you wince every time you see red brake lights ahead. You wonder, “is this a merely a slow poke changing lanes or am I about to hit traffic that will rob me of the next two years of my life?”

Thirty minutes and sans traffic jams we pulled off at my friend’s exit. Just a few blocks from her house we passed a new strip mall called Brookside Marketplace. A spacious parking lot filled with a few box stores, drive-thrus and chain restaurants. Nothing notable. What attracted my eye was the sign. “Brookside Marketplace.” This sign came complete with a metal sculpture of three children on their tip-toes, arms out to the sides, balancing on a log. It was designed to look as though three children were gingerly crossing a brook to find adventure on the other side.

It was a gorgeous piece of art actually.

Sitting at a stoplight I stared at it wondering where the inspiration came from. As the light changed and my engine moved us forward I saw a small brook that hugged the backside of the mall. A deep groove in the ground with ridges of ice and snow mixed with brown grass ran parallel to the backside of a big box store. I mumbled to myself, “this must be the brook.”

With my kids in the car I wondered if they would ever dabble in creeks and brooks the way the children in that sculpture did. You see, we live in the suburbs of the third largest city in the nation. With over 8 million people in the Chicago metropolitan area, we can find a strip mall in a blink. A brook with a log to teeter across? Not so much.

The irony slapped me in the face. To sell me on the fact that I should shop at this mall the designers used a whimsical little statue to lure me in. Never mind the fact that the brook itself was shoved to the back, out of sight, and fenced in to keep out any intruders (like playful children).

And it is easy to act all superior here, like I am above the Brookside Marketplace, until I realize that even in my ever-greening life, I still shop at a few of those stores. They sell cheap toothpaste and diapers and I can get a birthday gift for someone in less than ten minutes. My own desires for convenience, combined with millions of others, make the marketplace more desirable than the brook.

So I was reminded again today of how very important it is to shop locally whenever and however possible. If I shop local, I can walk to the store, I can support a local business owner, and the building that houses that store (at least in my town) is usually 100 or so years old. No strip mall, granted, no brook either, and no one making me feel like I can hop a stream on my way to a fast food joint.

So I ask myself again, as I do all the time, can I really see the valley from the Valley View Center? Can I really hop a creek at the Creek Side Plaza? Is there even a mountain in sight at the Mountain Vista Mart? Probably not. Shop local when you can and if possible, don’t shop at all. Instead, take a day to hop a few creeks, take in the views, and spend the day outside in the real places.

Halloween is over. We are now officially, undoubtedly, out-of-controlably careening toward Christmas. Less than 8 weeks.

I was standing in the kitchen tonight pilfering through the bowl of chewy, crinkly wrapped treats that my children acquired last night. Poor things. They do all the work of running up and down the sidewalks, climbing stairs, ringing bells and then I dole them out a piece or two a day and confiscate anything with caramel for myself. Hardly seems fair.

But then again, I endured child birth so I will use that card once again. Caramel is mine.

As I chewed on something with nougat I saw the first Christmas commercial of the season flash across the television screen in our family room. A bunch of people in a sleigh on a snowy night, wearing red sweaters with whispy scarves. They were sipping some sort of hot beverage, laughing like they had not a care in the world.

I just looked at the screen and sighed.

In an instant those bright sweaters and cheery faces shoved me into an exhausted holiday panic. Too soon. Too crazy. Am I behind? Christmas cards? Do we have parties on the calendar yet? Halloween costumes are still on the floor. Leaves are still on my deck. I still plan to go another week or two before sporting gloves.

I wanted to scream “let me enjoy my chocolate for a minute!” Let me savor, for just a bit longer, the fact that the squirrels have not devoured all of our pumpkins.

The malls are probably already decked out in holiday decor. I dashed into a store several weeks ago to return a gift for one of my children and saw Christmas outfits and ties on display. It was barely October.

And I know that I am stating the obvious here. It seems to be the sort of self-soothing banter we all participate in this time of year. We chitter and chat with one another, lamenting how quickly Christmas creeps up. We say that the real reason for the season are friends, family, God, community, giving, doing, being. And we all believe this but, regardless of our attempts, we cannot seem to stop the freight train.

We clean. We obsess. We shop. We stock up. We line up that day after Thanksgiving at 4:00 am. We are still in pj’s and a food coma from the day before, but gosh darn it we are going to get 20% off that Wii if it kills us. Which it may.

As I stood with candy in one hand and Christmas commercials calling out to the other, I vowed once again not to get sucked in. Not to panic.

And I also thought about what a bad rap Halloween gets in many Christian circles. I my house, we join in the costumes and the pumpkins, we watch lots of Charlie Brown and hand out candy. But I know there  are many good, faithful families who choose bow out of Halloween stating that the ideas celebrated on this day are completely inconsistent with the Christian faith.

And I know this debate, for those inside Christendom, is much larger than I am unpacking here. But as I chewed on that candy bar I could not help but wonder why Christians don’t rally against consumerism and going into debt and Christmas shopping in October the same way many of them tackle Halloween.

Careless consumption, disregard for the poor, and perpetuating systems of injustice are enemies of faith that I dare to say loom larger than whatever Pagan, Druid, Wiccan, you name it rituals and fears that Halloween conjures up for many people of faith.

And while I choose to very gladly, albeit modestly, participate in Halloween, I still respect those who have thought through why they choose to step out. But my respect level for this conversation drops considerably when people use Halloween as a way to throw a few superior jabs at those of us who trick or treat while they plan a shopping strategy to cover the next 8 weeks.

We might get a little closer to the heart of Jesus if we all sat on our front porches for the next few weeks and munched on some candy while chatting with our neighbors. We might fight some of the most gruesome enemies of this world like injustice and poverty if we linger around the candy bowl and talk them through for a while and stay out of the malls.

Give Halloween a break. Turn off the television. Rake some leaves. Take a walk and enjoy the last few balmy days, the final rays of warm sunshine. And think for a bit about how to fight the truly ugly realities of our world, not just those dressed up like them on October 31.

This past week I was walking home from the school drop-off with a newish friend. Swapping stories about the basics of our lives. Marital status, where we grew up, favorite pastimes. When it came time to exchange the details on all the places we lived before landing in our current community, a contrite little sigh slipped out.

“Well,” she exhaled. “We used to live in the city, used to live in Lincoln Park and then Rogers Park, but you know, it came time to move to the burbs once we had our second child.”

She was apologetic and somewhat remorseful about living in the suburbs. As if it was an embarrassing accident, a sly little secret that she occasionally let people in on.

This is the same groan I’ve heard from many suburbanites. Perhaps it is indicative of what many suppose is an unreflective life. It’s often assumed that if you have a suburban zip code that you’ve also lost the part of your soul that cares about issues beyond your fenced in backyard.

Last night I joined a wonderful and uplifting conversation in the city, in Lincoln Park to be exact. A room full of white, swanky 20-30 somethings. Young professionals who love that they can walk to the dry cleaners, pub, Whole Foods, and their favorite bistro. All good things indeed.

The conversation centered on global and local issues of living in true community, knowing neighbors, living in mixed race and mixed economic neighborhoods, advocating for the poor and the planet, living with family and changing culture. All amazing, worthwhile pursuits that, if accomplished, would enhance our world more than any policy handed down from Washington.

And while everyone was polite, there was an overwhelming sense that somehow, suburbia represented most of the issues we are facing today, from climate issues to gentrification. I spoke with an energetic gal who was giddy to have met me until she learned that I had commuted in from the suburbs for the event. She sighed a bit, smiled, and was done chatting with me in under a minute.

And as a defensive suburbanite, I could not help but notice the fact that the room was filled with a homogenous pile of people. All white, most wearing expensive clothing (designed to look like it was not). They had amazing thoughts and ideas so this is not to discredit them, it really was an insightful event. But Lincoln Park is a mostly white, affluent, and fairly transient community. It’s sort of an extension of college in many ways. And while most were happy to be there, and honestly, I would be happy to live there too, more than half of that crowd will have moved on to another place within 5 years.

When asked how many of them had moved in the past 3 years, 3/4 of the room raised their hands.

And I could not help but reflect on the fact that I, in my first suburban home (in the town I still live in), had more diversity than that entire room. An African-American family on one side, Polish immigrants on the other. A Mexican and Pakistani family across the street, and Irish family (the husband was actually from Ireland) behind us. When they moved out another African-American family moved in. The home we live in now (less than a mile away from the other) is different but not by much. We played last week with a family from Mumbai/Bombay who lives across the street. A Canadian lives next door to them. Up the street a Chinese family and another family of Indian descent. Elderly folks and newborns up and down the block in each direction. 

My hope is for the blaming and bashing of suburbia to end and the beginning of a truly reflective conversation to begin. It is possible to have rich experiences of community, mixed neighborhoods, and a concern for the world while living outside the city. I will be completely honest when I tell you that NONE of my suburban friends are careless or indifferent about the world or their communities. None of them.

They partner with their schools, local charities, they clean up parks, they walk everywhere that they can, they take the train, they take the bus, they know their neighbors, they make meals for people, they babysit one another’s kids. they do life together.

And I understand that you will find segregation, over-consumption, and ignorance in the burbs. This is not to excuse these behaviors. But we have to reach a point where we engage suburbanites in the conversation rather than simply sloughing them off as the impossibly ignorant over-consumers. Americans in general fit this description, not just those who chose the burbs. We need to see suburbia as a fertile field for change rather than the receptacle of all things thoughtless.

One last comment, when it comes to whole of urban/suburban life (where statistically 80% of Americans dwell) it seems that we consistently judge those who are farther out from the city. Most who live in the city shrug their shoulders at those in what David Brooks calls the inner-ring burbs. I live in the “inner-ring” where I can hop a train and do not see track housing, so I have snubbed my nose at those in the “exurbs”, in track housing without a train station. Those folks can look down on the people building the newest homes on the outer edges of urban sprawl. The ones who “stole” their view of the landscape.

The trick is to start looking in. To ask ourselves what is good about the city or the other suburbs and rural communities around us and start strengthening those things because they make sense, not because they are an urban or suburban thing to do. It’s more about making a commitment to live a life of community and connection wherever you are, not about a trendy loft or edgy coffee shop.

And ultimately, I hope the conversation is more about our love for neighbor rather than our disdain for neighborhood. For out of love the greatest sacrifices and commitments are made. Out of disdain we just further alienate and separate ourselves.

Nowadays if you slap the word “green” across any event, industry, or article of clothing it is rumored this will boost sales and recognition. As a nation always in hot pursuit of the latest trend, we’ve managed to make ourselves feel good by recycling, repurposing a few items, and maybe buying a hemp handbag or backpack. Sales of many “green” products are up in spite of a down economy. Current market research trends reveal that the average American plans to increase spending on “earth-friendly” items and food products this year. Books on environmental issues are said to be one of the few bright spots in publishing these days (according to Publisher’s Weekly).

So we haul our recycling to the curb, slap a few free-range chicken breasts on the grill, and sit back feeling rather ecologically accomplished.

And of course, most of us are aware of the looming ecological crisis that hovers over us like the black cloud that followed Gargamel on the Smurfs. It’s ever present but we sort of forget about it off until it starts to rain down on us. Most of the time we are happy to wallow in our do-gooder intentions.

I’ve spent a lot of time agonizing lately over where this green trend ends and actual progress begins. Where do the trendy fetishes of green consumers actually become planet-preserving advances? And will this ever happen?

My husband and I were sitting in the kitchen last week and as we were chatting with one another he looked over at the mounting pile of alkaline batteries on our counter. “What are you going to do with those?” He politely asked. I offered my typical response “oh, you know, recycle them next time I am out.” 

To which he replied “you know battery recycling is a complete joke don’t you?”

Normally, I would bristle at a statement like this. But lately I have been musing over thoughts like these. There are places all over town that collect batteries. This past August I was involved in an event that collected hundreds of pounds of household batteries to be recycled. And yes, there are places that do take them and ship them off to facilities that pull chemicals out and reuse some of the metals and make it all nice and pretty.

But what I found was also astonishing. And I won’t unpack it all here, you can see the tip of the debate here 

http://www.helium.com/debates/116269-batteries-toss-out-or-recycle/side_by_side

http://www.straightdope.com/columns/read/2346/is-recycling-worth-it

Basically, our good intentions often end up unintentionally thwarted due to the fact that everything is not as neat and tidy as we think when it comes to recycling.

Take for example batteries that, when polled, many drop off sites confess to simply tossing in the trash (same with those plastic bags at the grocery store). Or take for example that should you try to do your recycling duty and rinse every last drop of yogurt out of that plastic container, that you are actually wasting more water to wash it than recycling it is worth.

Then there is the simple fact that if you buy a new green gadget, even if it claims to be earth-friendly, you still had to buy something NEW. Which means packaging, shipping, marketing, energy. If you just used the dish, lunch bag, or laptop carrying case you already had, no extra waste would have been generated.

Now I know this all seems a little dismal from a gal who blogs under the moniker “Green Mama,” but one of the greenest things we can do is to be sensible, thoughtful, and practical about everything we do. And most of the time, this means doing a lot less of it (shopping, driving, consuming).

Whipping batteries into recycling bins and hoping for the best as we dash off to buy another alkaline powered gadget is not the most thoughtful move. Most of us already know this. Finding a good use for what we already have rather than racing out for a green product is truly greener than anything else we might do.

Making wise moves to stop the buying and selling, shipping and fueling of goods is where we need to make the sorts of changes that go beyond the battery. I will not need to placate myself with the number of yogurt containers I recycled if I can do the bigger things that matter, like limiting my consumption, advocating for lower emissions in my community, neighborhood, church, house.

And yes, all the little things add up big. And yes, we should still recycle those containers and batteries when it makes sense (after researching drop-off sites that actually get them to the right place), but this whole green thing, to make a difference that matters, should be about the bigger global issues rather than the trendy t-shirts.

It’s easy to get caught up in the latter. I know. I confess I’ve been there. If we’re honest, most of us have. So let’s start looking together at what it will really take to pull off preserving Creation as well as recycling those batteries.

Organic strawberries were $5.99 the other day at our local grocer. $5.99! Their more toxic twins, the non-organic variety, were on sale for $3.00. Darn this pesticide free living. I stood staring at that clamshell of bruised strawberries and fought with myself. The Farmer’s Market was still 3 days away. I really wanted those berries. How am I supposed to cough up the cash for organic berries when we need reasonable staples like bread, pasta and milk? 

Like the rest of the nation, my family sits inside a belt that has tightened strongly since this little economy of ours slid into a ditch last year. Increasing living costs, a husband who works in manufacturing, three growing kids and me, the wife who sort of works. We are not exactly poster children for extravagant living. But neither are most people I know these days.

And since we are clearly not alone in our efforts to streamline our spending, I often hear friends and others mock the very ideas of shopping locally, eating organically, or even dropping in for fresh bread at a local bakery. They, understandably, moan that these sorts of efforts are expensive. They are perceived as the luxury of middle to upper class, over-educated urbanites who still have the time and money to flaunt their trips to Whole Foods. The rest of us, they say, must stock up at the value grocers and do whatever it takes to survive.

It’s not that families I know wouldn’t love a pesticide free head of lettuce, but seriously, when money is tight, who can manage to buy earth friendly school supplies, fair trade coffee, or organic produce? Well, glad you asked, and even if you didn’t, here we go.

I think that what lands in our grocery carts tells an interesting tale. On the one hand, we balk at an extra three bucks for organic berries, and on the other we cannot live without a 24 pack of our favorite soda (I feel the pain, Diet Coke and I have been together for years). Perhaps we can drink water and buy those berries? This whole green eating and living thing is actually about spending LESS money. It is about rearranging our spending rather than increasing it. It’s about skipping some of the not-so-healthy options, like soda and fruit snacks, to make the planet-friendly options doable.

It is also about a holistic approach to living. For example, our oldest son has “seasonal” allergies. When we use earth and people friendly cleaning products, he sneezes less, much less. So we don’t end up spending a small fortune on children’s allergy medication or going to his doctor to check in. No copays, no Claritin, just an almost sneeze free kid, leaving us a bit of money to buy those products that made this difference.

When I live a little lighter on the planet I do not spend money on paper products, disposable cutlery, bottles of water, saran wrap and aluminum foil and all the other kitchen accoutrements that people have survived thousands of years without. Seems to me that millions of people around the world somehow survive a BBQ without take ‘n’ toss containers or paper plates. So if we use less of these items we can afford to support our local grower, who may actually be cheaper than the grocery store anyway. If we skip these items, maybe we can pay a buck extra for a pound of coffee that has been grown and traded fairly. This means that while we have been trying to make our own ends meet, we’ve helped another family in Brazil or Kenya to do the same. Seems fair to me. Why should I be able to meet my needs at the expense of theirs?

I’ve got a big mouth and end up sharing these thoughts in lots of circles. Some are happy to hear them and others write me off as an idyllic suburbanite who needs to get her head out of organic produce and into the real world. But whatever one might say that real world is, is often as interested in this healthier way of being as the rest of us. For example, two friends run a local food pantry and they shared with me how all the organic produce and fresh food that is contributed there flies out the door by 10:00 am. That people line up by 5:30 am on a Saturday to get their hands on fresh, healthy stuff.

I am a part of a new little team of people who are working toward some urban gardening solutions in an impoverished neighborhood in Chicago. There is tons of energy and excitement about people finding their way to healthy alternatives. I am well aware that some kids have never tasted a fresh blueberry. But they should get this chance. They should have access to a plot of land that can grow and nourish their neighborhood. They should get a shot at organic gardening and produce rather than the cans and boxes handed out at local pantries. 

So when I find myself standing in the produce aisle, about to vomit over the increasing cost of healthy options, I remind myself that if I can somehow rearrange our budget those berries just might be doable. And frankly, sometimes they just are not, so I skip them or buy the toxic variety. But if I can manage to tweak a few things, perhaps I can help others to do the same. And if they just cannot afford it at all, then maybe I can plunge my hands into the dirt of a difficult neighborhood and bring some good things to life. I have friends gardening in the hood, cooking food for kids in poverty, stocking food pantries with locally grown produce, gardening to give it away. After making all the changes they could, these people still had needs. People I know are rising to meet them.

Together, maybe we can afford that, and can help others to afford it too.