Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts

Saturday, January 30, 2016

Do-over Please?

I walk into the dining room, which also doubles as our classroom.  The table is barely evident for the stacks of books and papers that cover it. I announce it's time for school to which my daughter rebuffs, "I'm not doing school today."  Her eyes narrow in determination and her arms cross her chest in defiance.

"That's not a choice," I respond.  "Now, where's your math book?"

"I'm sitting on it."

"A, come on, hand me your math book and let's get started."

"You can't make me," her voice is quiet and cold.


That helpless feeling fills my body.  She's right.  I mean, I could physically move her body from the book while she kicks and screams, but I can't force her to actually do the math.  "Well, if you aren't going to complete your school work then you can vacuum.  I lean over to pick something up as she tosses a book in frustration.  I look up just in time to catch the corner of the book in the cheekbone.  The culmination of a long morning of defiance and a rotten attitude.  I jump up and grab my face.  Tears of pain spring to my eyes.  "What is wrong with you!" I shout.  Jesus, help me, I think. I don't know how to parent her when she's like this.  "You," I say, pointing wildly like some deranged lunatic.  "I need you to go to your room."  My finger flies toward the stairs as if she needs directions to her bedroom.  "I don't want to be around you right now."  My stomach sinks.  I know that wasn't the right thing to say, but I'm truly at a loss, and my eye is throbbing so intensely I swear it's visibly pulsating.

I walk downstairs to alert my husband, who's helping our son. that I need to leave for a little while.  He looks at my eye, winces, and let's me know he's on it.  I jump in the car and erupt into sobs.  This is probably not the right course of action according to all of my parenting books on strong-willed children, but the introvert in me desperately needs to create distance and to be alone to process everything.  I drive a mile to McDonald's and order an large unsweet tea through heavy, wracking sobs.  I pull to the drive-through, eye-swelling, tears pouring.  The cashier is probably so unsettled by the crying maniac at her window that she refuses to make eye contact.  I know I need to deal with this properly, so I offer this prayer on the way back home:  Lord, I'm weary.  I'm baffled.  I don't know.  I just don't even know where to start.  Help.

I arrive home to see my husband teaching Annie multiplication of two by two digits.  "I'll take it from here," I whisper.  A looks up, tears brimming, and says, "I'm sorry the book hit you, Mommy."  I'd like to say the day improved from there, but alas, we had already pulled the thread and unravel it did.  My daughter, who is lovely 85% of the time, has difficulty pulling the emotions together once they start to get out of control.  Thank you, pre-teen hormones combined with a naturally spirited-temperamental personality.

An hour later, I find myself locked in another battle with my headstrong daughter.  "We need to leave for piano in ten minutes."  I walk into the dining room to find her desperately trying to complete fifteen minutes worth of written piano homework.  "A! You've had seven days to complete that."

"I know," she cries.  "I'm not going to finish."

"That's a consequence of your poor choice.  It's time to go."  I'm met with frantic wails, but I reiterate that she must face the music.  Minutes later, her piano teacher opens the door to greet a sobbing nine-
year-old and a harried mom with a bruised cheek.  I shake my head and assure her we're fine, just a little battle weary.  While A is in piano, I decide to walk the neighborhood and reflect on the day, otherwise known as beating myself up for all the parenting errors I made that day.

I was giving myself a good mental lashing when I heard Luke 22:31 (not audibly-the day hadn't been that bad) "Simon Peter, Satan has asked to sift you like wheat."  How strange?  What has that to do with a bad parenting day?  I thought about it again. "Simon Peter, Satan has asked to sift you like wheat."  Now, I don't know what happened in the heavenlies that morning when I asked God to guide each step of my day, but it certainly felt as if Satan had been sifting me, more like holding me upside down and shaking me by my ankles.  My thoughts drifted to Peter's denial of Jesus just hours later. Peter screwed up big time, but......but, Jesus forgave him.  Jesus gave Satan permission to sift Peter, perhaps, because Jesus knew that's what it would take to strengthen and to prepare Peter for the work ahead.  Maybe that's where the Holy Spirit was leading me. Because when it comes to parenting, I wish I just failed three times a day rather than ninety, and I don't always feel up to the task.


With each step of my walk, I recalled every mistake made that day.  Pushing too hard, shouting, emotionally distancing myself because sometimes it's just so hard, and that's how I protect myself from the outbursts of an emotionally charged child.  Peter failed Jesus in Christ's darkest hour.  He even denied he knew him, yet Jesus lovingly rebuked Peter simply by asking three times if he loved Him.  Gentle Jesus who's mercies are new every morning.  Jesus, I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry for all the ways I fail you, fail her.  Help me. Help me be the mom she needs, the mom you created me to be.  Washed in the cleansing balm of forgiveness, I continue to think about my beautiful, tough-as-nails daughter.

I'm an eternal optimist.  A sometimes makes Eeyore seem downright jovial.

I'm a people-pleaser.  She seriously could not care less who she pleases.

I'm a diligent hard worker.  A seeks out the path of least resistance.


I was expecting a min-me and God blessed me with something wild, wonderful, and unpredictable, yet to a woman who does not like her clear-cut goals and plans interrupted, that's scary.

A and I are so opposite, yet God gave me her because He knows we need each other.  I'm not going to lie.  It is sometimes so difficult to parent her.  There are days that though, I love her madly no matter what, I mean wildly love this bronco of mine, there are days, it breaks my heart to say it, that I don't always like her.  Just fleeting moments of this child isn't very nice.  Of course, parenting her is usually a delight, but on those days it's hard, it's back-breaking, bone-weary hard.  All those qualities that will create a wildly successful adult who refuses to accept rejection and laughs at the idea of following the crowd; those qualities are wrecking her mama.  Yet, I won't give up on me or on her.  Just as He's perfecting me and making me new, He's doing the same for her and has trusted me with assisting Him in the process.  I slow my pace as I near her piano teacher's house.  My grace is sufficient for you because My power is made perfect in weakness.  That's really what it's all about isn't it, Jesus?  In parenting, in marriage, in life.  God uses all situations to bring us to faithful dependence on Him.  He supplies strength to the weary, especially the weary mamas of the world.

A walks out of her lesson.  I greet her with a smile and take her arm as we walk to the car.  "I forgive you for hitting me with the book and for losing it over school.  Do you forgive me for not handling your defiance in the best way?  I'm sorry I yelled, but I though my eye was going to fall out."  We giggle.  I stop her, turn her to face me, kneel and take her shoulders.  "God tells us His mercies are new every morning.  Let's pretend it's morning and have a do-over."  I pause then continue, "You know I love you more than life, right?"  She nods.  "I mean it."  I feel the tears sting."

"Mommy, let's go.  You're being embarrassing."  I stand and she takes my hand.  Once in the car, I start to turn the ignition when I hear, "Mommy, I love you."  I don't bite back the tears but allow them to flow.  Parenting is literally the hardest job on the planet, but never forget, it's without a doubt the most rewarding, especially when you remember that God, through you,  is creating a beautiful, beautiful thing.

Monday, January 25, 2016

What To Really Expect When You're Expecting

My baby sister is expecting her first baby.  As the youngest of two sisters and a brother (all parents), she will be the fortunate recipient of our advice and words of wisdom.  Of course, she could read about what to expect in any number of books, if she's looking for the tidy, sanitized version.  I find it my duty, though, to draw back the curtain and show her what to really expect in the months and years following her pregnancy, so my sweet G, I present "What to Really Expect When You're Expecting."

1.  Enjoy your pregnancy.  Relish every quiet, peaceful, uninterrupted moment of your pregnancy.  Go to bed at 8:00 pm if you feel so inclined.  Sleep in until noon.  Sit down at a table and enjoy all three courses of your meal.  Read a book.  Binge watch Netflix.  Then say good-bye to all of these activities for 18 years.  It's okay; I'll pause while you take a moment of silence.

2.  Once the baby arrives, well-meaning, often childless, or perhaps forgetful, people will advise you to sleep when your baby sleeps.  Pshaw......Don't listen to them.  When else will you catch up on Days of Our Lives and Reddit?  Stefano and Marlena are not going to wait for your baby to grow up, sis.  You may also want to use this time for minor activities like eating and showering and maybe, running the vacuum.  It'll be good for your princess to adjust to napping with noise, especially if you plan to have a little prince in the future.

2.  This may come as a shock, but there will be days you won't shower.  Your child will leave the house looking like an ad for Kelly's Kids and you will leave looking like an extra for the Walking Dead.   It's all right.  No one will judge you.....no one, except maybe that group of moms at Kindermusik who all look like they stepped out of the pages of Vogue.  They will judge, but who cares?  Those are not your people.  Trust me, there's a whole cast of Walking Dead extras stumbling sleepily across playgrounds and through the aisles of Target.  Plus, you watched an entire episode of American Idol and didn't drop the baby when that spider ran out of the closet.  High five!

3.  If you plan to nurse, prepare for your milk to letdown at the most awkward times:  singing in the choir at church, lecturing students on participial phrases, checking out at the grocery store, making a deposit at the bank.  You will be your very own Leaky Cauldron, and I'm not talking Harry Potter, friend.  This is a magic all of its own.  Buy lots of those little pads for your bra and be prepared because milk happens.

4.  Speaking of breast feeding, there is no such thing as pumping discreetly unless you work on an airport runway or at a bar with a heavy metal band.  That pumping noise can broadcast through steel walls.  If you pump in your classroom during your ten minute planning period, lock the door.  That's a difficult one to explain to the poor administrator who waltzes through the door.  Hang a sign that says "Pumping in Progress."  No one will come near your room.  Forget, leave it up the rest of the day, and catch a nap.

5.  I know you teach aerobics.  Bless you.  Plan on having a co-teacher for those five to ten times you have to dash off to the restroom during jumping jacks.  Trampolines?  Forget about it unless you also carry an extra pair of pants for you in that giant diaper bag you'll be hauling around.


6.  There will come a day when your precious is about three months old where you will want to venture out to the mall, just to make sure Jesus didn't return and leave you behind.  Don't bother.  Once you load the stroller, diaper bag, baby carrier, wrestle your little bronco into the seat without pinching off a finger, remember you're wearing pajama pants, go back inside to put on blue jeans, you'll be too tired to turn on the ignition.  The good news is the baby finally drifted to sleep after hours of attempting to put her down for a nap earlier.  Always keep a book or magazine in the car for this occasion.  Put on sunglasses and turn off the ignition.  It will appear you are reading, while you, too, catch a nap.  If your husband surprises you for lunch, pretend you just got into the car.

7.  Never say never.  Everything you learned in that child development class you took in college, all those precious parenting strategies you tucked away for when you had children will not apply when your child is projectile vomiting on your Karastan area rug or when your angel decides to decorate the kitchen counter with permanent marker or shred the stack of essays you were about to grade.  You will say that thing your mom always said and you swore you'd never say, and to add salt to the wound, it will leave your mouth in her voice.  You will find yourself saying things like, "Please don't bite your toenails until you at least wash your feet."  Or, "What did you think would happen when you shoved a grape up your nose?"

8.  The baby-apparatus companies will tell you it is impossible to rear your child without forty-five gadgets and three different cribs.  Please remember our parents did this with drop side cribs and walkers on wheels sans baby gates.  We just rolled to the next landing where our parents set us upright then we'd keep toddling along.  Thousands of generations of babies survived without designer diapers and boppity-boopy seats.

9.  Your friends will change a bit.  You'll swear to all of your childless friends that you guys will be BFFs forever, and you will with one or two, but your endless talk about how your baby smiled, pooped green, spit up, made adorable cooing noises will begin to wear thin.  You can't help it.  At this moment, your whole world revolves around someone who is 20 inches and weighs ten pounds and can shake the foundation of your house with screaming at 2 am.  If you do manage to keep silent about your little love, you won't be able to follow their conversation about the latest episode of Downton Abbey because you nodded off during the evening news.  It may seem intimidating or impossible at first, but before you know it, you'll be surrounded by a group of mommas who love to discuss breast milk storage and The Runaway Bunny as much as you.

10.  Finally, and seriously, your life will be rocked in ways you never imagined.  When the doctor hands you that tiny miracle from God, you'll never look back.  No amount of sleep or size 6 jeans or grown-up conversation over a glass of wine in a real goblet will ever tempt you to go back to life before this precious love.  Your and Jordan's lives will be given purpose you never imagined as you nurture this child into an adult.  The joy, even on those days when this child is ten and drives you to your knees before the throne of God in anxious, befuddled prayer, will far outweigh any burden.  Those first days can be lonely, but soon, so soon, you'll find your routine, hit your groove, and wonder why you didn't enter the wonderful world of parenting sooner.

So, baby sister, congratulations.  You are embarking on a journey that will forever transform your life.  You will wake up in ten years and realize you are gentler, more compassionate, more patient, kinder, more joyful, and more loving than you ever thought possible.  You'll thank God for using this precious miracle to cultivate within your own life the fruit of His spirit.  Now that you know what to expect, fasten your seatbelt, and enjoy the ride!

Saturday, January 2, 2016

What I Learned When I Fell Off My Bike

 I'm typing this with basically one hand.  My right hand keeps getting in the way because it's wrapped in a cumbersome hot-pink cast thanks to a broken bone below my thumb.  How did I break my wrist?  By rushing into a burning building to rescue.....no, actually, I fell off my bike, three times.

This is me the day I received my bike for Christmas.

Four hours later I was sitting on the asphalt holding my wrist crying.  Apparently, clip-in pedals are difficult to master for someone who began the year wearing an orthotic boot.  On my first attempt, I stopped the bike before trying to unclip.  This was followed by wobbling precariously on two skinny tires before I toppled to the ground, feet still clipped into the pedals.  That will also leave a nasty bruise on the shin.  The same thing happened the second and third time.  All culminating with me shouting, "Help," to my husband who even if he'd been Superman had no shot of reaching me in time.  The process ended with me slamming my wrist to the street, finally breaking it.  Now, I'm a forty-year-old mom with a bright pink cast.  Cheers!



Fast-forward to a week after my incident where I'm taking my son and daughter to the book store to spend their Christmas gift cards.  Unprovoked, my daughter pipes up from the back seat, "Mommy, you know kids watch what you do more than they listen to what you say."
"That's true," I respond.  "Mommy really does try to set a good example for you guys."
"You mean by falling off your bike and breaking your wrist?" she inquired through a chorus of giggles.  I joined she and her brother in their laughter and didn't really answer her question, yet I pondered her question the rest of the day.  And here's my response:  Yes.  Yes, I do think I set a good example by breaking my hand on my bike.

Before you decide I also hit my head in the fall, let me explain.  I often tend to take the path of least resistance, sometimes opting for the safety of the sidelines.  Not always.  Sometimes, I'm inexplicably fearless.  I began my own business with nary a clue about business; I homeschool my kids and run marathons, but lately, I'm tired.  Living fearlessly takes effort.  Often, at least in my case, it hurts.  As a stay-at-home, homeschooling mom who runs a business and teaches writing classes part-time, I find myself exhausted.  So often, after my kids go to bed, I'm tempted to mindlessly peruse Facebook or binge-watch Lost rather than prepare lessons, plan meals, or work on projects that need my attention. It's easy in my busyness to lose sight of what matters and stretch myself to new limits.  Rather, I grow complacent, lazy, listless and blame my schedule for the fact that I've failed to accomplish anything meaningful.  That's where I fail to set a good example for my children, those times I settle for half-done and good enough. I find what often lurks behind my procrastination and laziness is fear:  a fear of failure, a fear of not being good enough.

The bicycle, though, was a gift that represented the pinnacle of a year of comebacks and the hope of the exciting new year that lies ahead.  I battled injury to run my tenth half-marathon.  I battled more injury to complete my first triathlon.  I learned to say "no" to commitments that didn't fit my family.  I said yes to riding 67 miles with my husband in preparation for completing my first century.  The bike symbolized taking it to the next level, getting off the sidelines, and jumping into a sport that sometimes terrifies, yet always exhilarates.  My children watched me crash into the pavement three times, but they also saw me get back up and remount the bike two times. The final time I knew I had broken my wrist, so hopefully, I taught them a teensy bit about discernment.  Still, I refused to be defeated.  Call it stubbornness or stupidity, I prefer tenacity, which by the way, isn't easy to parent in my own offspring.  I have discovered that success in sport so often translates to success in life.  Running 13 miles gives me the courage to try a new business idea.  Riding 50 miles on a bike makes completing a home improvement project seem effortless. But, injury also holds immense value and teaches just as many lessons as the successes.


So, just as much as I want my children to successfully navigate their bikes, I also want my children to fall off their bikes (not literally) because it means they had the faith and gumption to get on them in the first place.  I believe God calls us to live life fearlessly.  Over 300 times in the Bible he tells us not to fear.  Don't get me wrong.  I don't think He invites us to live foolishly.  He calls us to be wise.  I probably shouldn't have attempted clips my first time on my new bike.  It probably wasn't wise to attempt clips on a downhill surface made entirely of asphalt.  But, I don't want to teach my children to avoid going out on a limb just because they might get hurt.  I want them to step out in faith, trusting God to guide them.  I'm not saying I want them to live dangerously, but huddled on the shore in fear is no way to approach life.  While I don't want my children to take foolish, dangerous chances, I want them to get off the sidelines and join the game.  I've learned more from my injury and failure than I've ever learned from my success, and one lesson they've both taught me is to lean entirely on God.  Failure reminds me that I'm not in control and that I don't have to be.  I just have to be willing to say yes to life and trust Him to handle the rest.

I want my children to see me fall off my bike because it means I got on.  I want my children to see one of my ideas fail because it means I tried.  I want my children to read my rejection letter from a publisher because it means I sent a manuscript.  It's okay if my children miss a note in the recital because it means they took the stage.  It's just fine if my children don't make the team because it means they tried out. I have no problem with my children not getting the lead role because it means they auditioned.

So, yes, my dear ones, I rode my bike and got hurt, but I'm going to overcome this obstacle, get back on, and ride smarter.  To me, sport, particularly the bike, is a metaphor for life.  There are times you are going to get slammed to the pavement by failure, unkind people, foolish decisions, and circumstances beyond your control.  But don't stay on the ground nursing your broken wrist.  Get up, get better, and go try again.  Follow this example not the bad ones like how Mommy throws toys under the bed when guests are coming rather than picking them up.  Be like this Mommy.  The Mommy who continues to get up and ride.  Because, to quote the dish towel hanging on the oven, "life is a beautiful ride," but you can only enjoy it if you're on the bike following the One who's marking the path He created just for you.  

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

What Are You So Afraid Of?

My daughter rushes to where I am working and exclaims, "Mommy, I want to go to camp this summer."  I nod, noncommittally and respond, "I'll check into it."  It's still a couple of months until camp, so there's still time for her to change her mind, right?

Time throttles closer and each week, A asks, "Mommy, have you signed me up, yet?"  I look at my nine-year-old and sigh.  "Are you sure you're ready to spend an entire week at camp?  You won't be able to call or see us at all.  No texting either."  Way to crush her joy, Scrooge.  Should I mention the bears?

"Oh, I know.  I really want to go."  Hesitantly, I fill out the online form then sit with my finger perched precariously above the send button.  An entire week at camp.  My mind checks off the list of all that could go wrong: she could become homesick, she could get injured, bitten by a spider, or worse, a snake.  What if a crazed maniac rampages through the camp.....why is my head even going there?  She could throw a tantrum and embarrass herself.  What if she doesn't know how to make her bed, put on her sunscreen, spell a simple word?  What if there's nothing she'll eat?  What if the other girls are unkind to her?  What if those socialization fears others have about homeschoolers are founded?  What if I miss her?  The silent litany continues as my finger wavers between the close button and the send button.  Finally, I take a deep breath and press send, registering my baby girl for camp.

As I ponder my hesitancy to send my daughter to camp, I realize that many of my fears are rooted in a deep-seated insecurity about my own parenting skills and how her behavior will reflect on my own lacking as a mom.  The other fears are genuine concerns about her welfare so far from home (really camp was an entire hour and a half away.)  Most, though, lie in an inability to let go and come to terms with a daughter who is growing into a young woman.  I'm halfway through the critical years of parenting, and this will be the first real test of how well we are preparing our girl for the real world.  I suddenly find myself wanting to cling and hover rather than release, which is pretty much the point of parenting, the releasing, not the hovering.

It seems that I'm not the only parent who struggles with releasing my grip on my children.  One need not look too far to see the disturbing headlines.  From Psychology Today, "Helicopter Parenting:  It's Worse Than You Think."  This article proceeds to detail how the parents of 25-year-old graduate students are calling admissions offices to assist their child in getting admitted.  Parents are actually tagging along on job interviews, and the kids are welcoming it.  I can just picture the mom dabbing her tongue to a napkin and wiping Johnny's mouth half-way during the questioning.

The Washington Post paints the same bleak picture with its article "How Helicopter Parents are Ruining College Students."  Colleges have become surrogate parents for kids who can't resolve conflict with roommates.  Deans are dealing with "she took my shirt without asking."  Police are being called to set mouse traps for skittish coeds.  We're paralyzing our children.  Rates of anxiety and depression are skyrocketing among children because we aren't allowing them to fail, risk, or make decisions.  Colleges can't keep up with the demand for counseling.

I find myself caught in this trap so often as a mom.  It's so easy to coddle and protect.  Society is so obsessed with coddling and protecting that I sometimes find myself questioning parenting decisions like sitting at a picnic table reading while my children play one hundred yards away at the playground.  I remember walking to the park with my siblings from my grandparents while the adults chatted and canned vegetables.  My mom couldn't see us or hear us.  My cousins and I spent our days winding through the countryside not to return home until dusk with narry an adult.  Is it really that dangerous for our children or are we watching too much CSI?  Isn't it ridiculous when "free range" parents are arrested for allowing their preteens to ride the subway alone?  The damage from micromanaging everything
from our children's science projects to career decisions isn't minor or short-term.  It's affecting them well into the future, leaving employers and future spouses baffled.

Every day offers a new opportunity to allow my children to safely take risks and to fail.  We, as a society, must change our attitude concerning failure.  We've begun celebrating failure when it forces us to try harder.  Our homeschool mantra is mistakes are ok because that's how we learn.  Children who are allowed to fail in the safety of their homes become more resilient adults.  Of course, we shouldn't allow our children to take dangerous, life-threatening risks, but most risks aren't that dramatic.  How we teach our children to handle failure is critical, which means despite a deep desire to prevent them from ever feeling pain, we have to sometimes watch them fall.  Preparing a path filled with lollipops and daisies is not preparing our children for the dog-eat-dog real world.

So often, I find myself stepping in to rescue my daughter from messes she created herself, but I have to remind myself that I'm not preparing her for life.  I'm handicapping her.  When she doesn't practice piano or finish a project, I must allow her to bear the brunt of the consequence that choice brings.  Sometimes its easier to save our children because it preserves the peace.  We don't have to deal with tantrums or breakdowns or bad grades, but that short-term ease will result in long-term detriment.  I often find myself praying for the courage to stop taking the path of least resistance.

My own mom taught me two very valuable lessons as a young woman.  When I tried out for cheerleader my junior year, I didn't make the squad, and I was devastated.  I lived in the era before parents filed lawsuits to get their kids onto teams.  If you weren't good enough, you didn't make the team, and that year I simply wasn't good enough.  My mom empathized and encouraged me to try again next year.  That afternoon, a male friend had sent flowers and stopped by to see how tryouts went.  My ego was so bruised that I refused to respond.  Rather than excusing my behavior or filling my head with a bunch of nonsense about how I was robbed and how I should have been chosen/the judges were blind, my mom called me out and reminded me that the world didn't revolve around whether or not I made cheerleader.  I learned to graciously accept disappointment and moved on to a very satisfying year as junior class president.  I wasn't placed on the team when I didn't deserve to be, but I survived and learned to deal with disappointment and embarrassment.  My mom taught me the world wasn't just about me and when at first I don't succeed to try again or to try something new.  My mom chose not to create in me an attitude of entitlement but one of humility.  (Thanks, mom!)

When I was a freshman in college, a naive eighteen year old, my mom allowed my sister, who was a junior in high school, and me to drive to Virginia to visit a friend at UVA during spring break.  I remember my mom handing us my dad's giant bag cell phone, explaining roaming charges, then waving as we backed down the driveway.  This is the point where I would have run headlong down the drive and jumped onto the back of my sister's little red BMW and tagged along, (mother/daughter weekend anyone?) but if my mom had concerns, she didn't register them.  She stoically stood by as my sister and I drove off into the sunrise.  My mom gave us the gift of a lifetime, and despite her desire to hang on, she chose to let go, and I'm sure pray without ceasing, allowing my sister and me to reap the benefits that weeklong road trip.  My mom taught me to trust God and to trust my children.

When it comes down to it, my children aren't really my own.  They are entrusted to me by a loving God who loves them even more than I.  He's asked me to prepare them for the world.  He's assured us that in this world there will be trouble.  Our heavenly father doesn't smooth the path for us, so why do we think we should smooth the path for our children?  Yet, he does reassure us that He's overcome the world and that He will never leave us or forsake us.  He even reminds us that trials develop endurance, endurance develops character, and character develops hope.  The Creator of the Universe designed life so that the trials and obstacles develop our character and ultimately our hope.  Those don't come without the trial.  This is what I cling to whenever I find myself parenting from a place of fear rather than from a place of trust.  Each time I choose fear, self-preservation, or ease, I rob God the opportunity to develop my character and the character of my children.  I also exhibit a lack of trust.  My children are going to get hurt; my focus needs to be on helping them learn to handle it, not preventing it from happening.
Think on your own life.  When have the biggest breakthroughs come or the most valuable lessons been learned?  Is it through the trials or in the ease?

I arrive at camp at the end of the week to find my baby girl beaming.  She's eager to introduce me to new friends.  (See homeschooling kids aren't socially awkward.)  She isn't sunburned or stinky.  In fact, she's glowing and is eager to tell me all about movie night, canoeing, swimming, singing, and all the other adventures she experienced that week.  She did get homesick, and not only did she get homesick, she threw up when she ate something that didn't settle with her.  And, you know what else, she survived.  It was through the homesickness that her friends were able to rally around her and show her support, thus deepening the friendships.  She survived a moment of vulnerability and learned to lean on others.  She learned that she can survive a week without her mommy, and I learned that I must be doing something right because the counselors shared what a lovely, polite girl she is.  Most importantly, A learned that she is resilient, capable, and strong.  Lessons she would probably not have learned sitting in the safety of her home.






Tuesday, September 15, 2015

Dear Mom of a Strong-Willed, Spirited Child

Dear Mom of a Strong-willed child,

Hi, I see you there hiding in the bathroom with the door closed, crouched in fetal position, rolling back and forth on the floor, cataloging every rotten thing you ever did to your parents, wondering if any of those are the cause of this madness, while your child rampages through the house like a little Napoleon charging through Europe.  The question "why" scrolls through your mind like the ticker on the bottom of the nightly news.  The voices, those outside your head and those inside, condemn you for not being good enough, strong enough, disciplined enough.  I know you watch in horror as your sweet angel goes from compliant to defiant in a nanosecond, leaving you feeling baffled and ill-equipped.

You battle insecurity, wondering if you are the only person who ever feels this helpless, hopeless, inadequate, unprepared, unequipped, unhinged, alone.  Is it you?  Is it something she ate?  Is it something you ate during pregnancy?  I see you sobbing into the soft fold of your elbow as you collapse face-down into the dining room table, tears rolling gently onto the well-worn copy of The Difficult Child, wondering if your child will ever outgrow this stage.  You look at your shoes in shame when she comes unglued in public, stealing glances at all the other moms, wondering how they
manage to keep their children on the straight and narrow.  Your child is five and you already wonder how you are going to handle those tricky teenage years, if you can't even handle a kindergartner.  I see you, and I'm here to tell you that you are not alone.

I am the mom of a difficult, strong-willed, spirited daughter.  There's a litany of terms to describe the 10-15% of children that drive their parents to their knees at least once a week in defeat or in prayer.  I prefer to refer to my girl as spirited, so that's my term of choice from this point forward.  Listen, 85-90% of the population cannot relate to us, so for now, let's just leave them to their angels and discuss ours.  This is not a post to let you know that I've got this all figured out.  No, friend, this is a post of camaraderie, an I've-got-your-back sister, I'm here for you.  And, ultimately, it's a post to share some insight into what I've learned along the way.

First of all, your dear darling was wired this way.  For most spirited children, it's a matter of temperament.  Sure, parenting can exacerbate or decelerate some spirited tendencies in children, but for the most part, to quote Lady Gaga, your baby girl or boy was born this way.  Let me share my experience.  My daughter throttled out of the womb and into the world with an intensity that said, "I am here; hear me roar."  My spirited child could shatter glass with her vocal chords at two weeks.  I do not exaggerate when I say that I did not sleep a full night for over two years.  Friends suggested cry-it-out.  Five days later, I had my arm draped over her crib, head languishing on my arm resembling a cast member of The Walking Dead.  My little bit lay red-faced and screaming with as much vigor as she had on day one of our little Ferber-izing session.  The only one crying it out was me.  A-1. Mommy-0.  My husband and I would lie her in the crib then crawl out
on our stomachs like navy seals exiting enemy territory only to sleepwalk back in five minutes later when her wail raised the roof.  I remember visiting my pediatrician who commented on my zombie-like appearance.  When I explained A's behavior, he commented that I had my work cut out for me and recommended a medication for reflux.  Needless to say, the only person with gastric issues was mommy.

Once I dropped her off at a friend's so I could grab a few seconds of a coveted nap, but before my
head could feel the sweet embrace of my pillow, the phone rang and my friend's desperate plea on the other end sounded, "I can't do anything with her.  She won't stop crying.  You have to come get her."  I don't remember the drive there or back, but I'm pretty sure I was bawling.  My husband and I would seek sweet relief at church only to have the sermon interrupted by the nursery pager and the desperate, "You have to come calm your child."  I attended bible study at a local church, where without fail, before Beth Moore's big hair could fill the screen, a haggard nursery attendant would whisper from the door, "Mrs. Johnson, A won't stop crying."  For the love!

Rather than calming down as she grew older, my spirited wonder's temperament intensified.  Now, at bible study, nursery workers called my attention to her aggressive behavior toward other little ones and she was only 18-months-old.  This is the child who ran up to another toddler on the playground, grabbed her hair, and would not let go despite the desperate pleas of me and the other child's mom.  When one of my best friends brought her sweet girl to visit, A pushed her down.  My husband and I read and studied and attempted a variety of discipline methods.  Eventually, my girl matured and grew into a really delightful girl, but her temperament continued to be wild shifts of intensity followed by periods of calm.  Fast-forward to age nine, where her tantrums now appear only once every few months, but when they do, bless the parent who crosses her path.

What I've learned about spirited children is that they are very sensitive, intense, persistent, and impulsive.  The Difficult Child presents the following questions in its introduction:  Do you find your child hard to raise?  Do you find your child's behavior hard to understand? Are you often battling your child? Do you feel inadequate or guilty as a parent?  Is your family life sometimes affected by your child?  I can answer most of these with a "yes" on many days,  and I imagine you can, too.  What has been freeing for me is understanding that my child is normal, perfectly normal, she's just more impulsive, distractible, intense, irregular, persistent, less adaptable, and more sensitive than most children. Research has shown that this 10-15% of children require a different approach in parenting than the more easy-going 85% out there, those like my son.

Understanding how temperament plays into your child's behavior will help you better understand how to parent your little firecracker.  So, if it took you two years to find a pair of jeans your child would actually wear, ones that weren't too icky, scratchy, with a button that wasn't too hard, etc., or if you've ever spent four hours trying to find a pair of flip-flops that didn't hurt, or if exposing your child to a new experience can send her into a downward spiral, then welcome to my world, and here are a few tips that help me manage those days when I want to turn in my resignation as a mom, and yes, I've actually wanted to do this.  If anyone tells you it's wrong to feel this way or that they have never felt this way, then they are raising some kind of Stepford children, so ignore them and move on.

1.  Parent the child you have, not the child you wish you had. 

I know this may sound harsh, but it has been critical for me as the mom of a spirited child.  It is okay to mourn the idea of the child you had when you carried her in your womb, the compliant child who shared your interests and didn't complain about the way a grain of sand makes her shoes unwearable or lose it over the most seemingly insignificant things, those annoying things like her brother sneezing.  I have been blessed with an incredible daughter who I love more than life itself.  She is strong, bright, creative, intelligent, decisive.  She is a gift that challenges me, encourages me, and improves me.  I didn't expect to give birth to such a powerhouse.  I didn't expect a daughter who would challenge me every step of the way, who would question every motive, who would test every boundary, but that is who I've been entrusted with by a loving Heavenly Father, and I trust that He would not have blessed me with such a strong, spirited daughter if he didn't think I could handle what it takes to parent her.  For me, realizing that A requires a different parenting style helps me seek ways to understand her temperament and parent more effectively. She feels more passionately, worries more intensely, and behaves more impulsively than I would.  Those aren't faults to be bemoaned; they are traits she's been given for a reason, and it is my job to help her manage and mold that intense personality into one that will benefit the world.

2.  Ignore the naysayers.

There are people, people you love, who will tell you that this temperament thing is a bunch of hogwash and if you were just tougher, stricter, fill-in-the-blanker....then your child would never utter a peep of defiance.  They convince you that you are the problem, that you aren't a very good mom, that if that were their child, she wouldn't behave that way.  I encourage you to give them a call the next time your child is having a nuclear DEFCON-1meltdown and invite them to come work their parenting magic.  I'm sure you could destroy your relationship with yo
ur child by coercing her into compliance in an authoritarian my way or the highway sort of way, but people, until you've dealt with a spirited child on a tear, I don't know.  The second you draw that line in the sand, she's crossed it just like Caesar crossing the Rubicon, sword ablazing.  The thing is, I could take away everything forever and in the heat of the moment, my child wouldn't care.  She. Would. Not. Care.  For her, whatever consequence is worth those few minutes of expressing her intense frustration.  

Here's the rub.  Your child doesn't want to behave this way.  She doesn't.  My girl comes to me after trying to handle this firestorm of intensity and says, "Mommy, I don't know why I feel this way.  I don't want to, but I don't know how to control my emotions."  Yes, it is frustrating for me as a mom, but I feel my job is to teach her how to manage that intensity, to give her tools to calm herself and to more effectively deal with and channel that intensity and frustration, not push her further off the edge.   Most spirited children have very intense emotions and don't know how to handle those, especially in the heat of the moment.  When I asked my daughter what would help defuse her tantrums, she sincerely responded, "Mommy, I think a hug would help me calm down."  Amazingly, this simple tactic at the time my child seems the least huggable, seems to work miracles at calming her down and helping her regain control.  

Do not misunderstand.  I'm not encouraging you to eschew discipline.  Your child needs effective discipline that teaches her to control her intensity.  Recently, my daughter threw a cup of tea into my Macbook destroying it.  I mean, even the computer repairman, was like, "Dude, I'm so sorry but she shorted the entire hard drive.  Aw, man, a 2015, too."  Once A calmed down, we reevaluated the incident.  I admit I pushed her by insisting she finish her schoolwork even though she was tired and moving closer to the emotional edge of frustration, not understanding the assignment.  I failed to recognize and respect her warning signs that she was losing control.  Rather than helping her manage her emotions, I intensified them.  Ephesians 6:4 reminds us not to exasperate our children, but to bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord.  Colossians 3:12 admonishes parents not to embitter our children lest they become discouraged.  These verses are reminders to me as the mom of a spirited child. A still has to understand the consequence for losing her cool, though, so she is "earning" the cost of the computer through extra chores, and I'm working with my youth pastor to find opportunities for A to volunteer with elderly members of our church to help them in their home or yard complete tasks that are difficult for them.  She will work through volunteering to recover the cost of the computer.  My goal as a mom is to make this not a horrible memory for our family but a learning opportunity for A on the reality of consequences for poor decisions in a positive way that benefits her and others.

Many well-respected authors, psychologists, and parenting experts have written hundreds of books on the topic of strong-willed, difficult, spirited children.  It is not just your child.  This is a real concern for many capable, loving parents.  Know mom,  your child's temperament has a lot to do with her responses.  It is up to you to study her temperament, her moods, what pushes her buttons and lovingly, gracefully give her the tools to manage and control that onslaught of intensity that often culminates in a tantrum.  I know that is so much easier said than done, so treat yourself with grace, too.

3.  Don't be afraid to ask for help.

The episode we now refer to as the "computer incident" just about pushed me over the edge.  I've never felt like such a failure as a mom.  It was one of the worst tantrums my daughter had thrown in a while, and after months of smooth sailing, I was left blindsided.  I wanted to crawl in a hole and hide.  I'm serious.  I frankly didn't want anyone to know what I sometimes dealt with in managing my daughter's temperament.  I didn't think anyone would understand, and if I reached out to someone, I believed they would condemn me as a mom.  Raising a spirited child will wear you out.  There are nights you collapse into bed after a day of battling everything from what you served at meals to handling the fact that her brother drew air and it bothered her.  Most of the time, my daughter is a delight to parent, but sometimes she is moodier, less optimistic, and more negative than most children.  She's easily discouraged with a task, she's slow to warm-up in a group, she's hesitant to try new things.  It's just who she is.  I'm a very optimistic, I can do anything kind of person, so there are days our personalities clash.  And, it's hard to admit that there are times when you just don't have a clue how to handle that dissonance, but my husband lovingly convinced me to call a friend who is a family counselor.  

I called my friend and began the conversation with a desperate, "I need help!"  She gracefully listened to my story and reassured me that I am not alone, that my child is normal, that this is her temperament, and that I am fully capable of parenting her.  She offered practical suggestions on defusing the intensity of a situation before it spiraled out of control and recommended ways to help A manage her emotions.  She even confirmed what I had read in so many books written about strong-willed children.  Rather than scold me for being a parenting buffoon, she acknowledged that I am not the only mom caught in this struggle.  That call changed me.  I know that seems over-the-top, but for the first time, I had professional confirmation that my daughter is normal, that she needs to be parented differently than my compliant son, and I had tools.  Just the simple knowledge of knowing you're not alone can give you the resolve you need to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

4.  You and your husband are the best parents for your child.

You are enough.  You are capable.  You just need help and guidance sometimes.  You need encouragement.  Surround yourself with people who offer a shoulder to cry on, who call you to the carpet when you're being a wimp, who love you and your children unconditionally, who will take your little ones to the park so you can grab a pedicure or even a nap.  Know that yes, you have a child who is challenging to parent, but that doesn't make you a bad parent.  Dear mom, God has entrusted you with the 10-15% of children authors pen special books about.  Gra
nted, there are days you wish you had been given an easy, compliant child, but where would the fun in parenting that child be, right?  Your child needs you.  Not an expert, not someone who is cooler, prettier, more capable, you.  You are enough.

5.  Trust that God is equipping you to parent your child and through this transforming you into the woman He wants you to become.

Parenting my spirited daughter has changed me so much.....for the better.  She reminds me that life is meant to be approached with fire and intensity.  She sharpens me, as iron sharpens iron.  Through her, God is truly transforming me.  I'm more patient, self-controlled, compassionate, and humble.  Ultimately, I'm more dependent on Jesus.  This self-assured, self-righteous, prideful, got-it-all-together girl is anything but.  God is teaching me to run to Him and depend on Him to sustain me and fill me.  Then, I am better-prepared to parent A and C.  Even though my son is "easier," it doesn't mean he isn't challenging, as well.  He appears to have inherited my stubborn streak.  I'm growing to believe that no matter what temperament your child, one purpose of parenting is to drive us to utter dependence on Jesus, and in my case, it is working beautifully.

If it helps, I, too, was a spirited child.  My children love to hear the story of how when I was fourteen, my mom asked me to clean my bathroom.  I haphazardly wiped down the sink.  Upon inspection, my mom discovered my half-hearted attempt and called me out on it.  I responded by grabbing a can of Comet and tossing it wildly throughout the bathroom.  When the dust literally settled, I looked into the gilded-gold mirror hanging in the bathroom and saw reflected a look that resembled a portrait of George Washington, complete with the powdered wig.  It took hours to vacuum all the powder from the carpet, sink, and shelves.  My tantrum cost hours of pointless work, as did many others I threw as a spunky child and teen, so every time my girl lets loose, I remember that, I, too, was once the girl staring back at me, desperate for a patient mom who was willing to guide and help her gain control.

And, finally, dear mom, I don't have proof of this, but I believe the world is transformed by spirited children.  I firmly believe, based on some biblical evidence, that the apostles Peter and Paul were spirited children.  I believe Lydia, the competent business woman mentioned in Acts was a spirited gal.  The Proverbs 31 woman has spirit written all over her.  Margaret Thatcher.  I imagine she gave her parents fits.  All those gals in the Senate and the House.  Those are not weak women.  Jane Goodall, Abigail Adams, Florence Nightingale, Elizabeth Blackwell.  It takes spirited girls to challenge the system, to question the status quo, to fight injustice.  Weary moms, trust God to guide you in parenting your firecracker, and believe that He is using you to mold that girl's fiery temperament into a catalyst that will set the world ablaze for good.  That trust is how I get through those days that short-circuit not just my computer but me, as well.  You have a wonderful opportunity to rear a girl or boy who could, with their spirited intensity, transform the world.

So, get up off the bathroom floor, take a deep breath, say a prayer, look at your reflection in the mirror and tell that puffy-red-eyed girl, "You can do this."  Remind yourself that you are capable and that your child needs you.....you.  One day, over a cup of hot tea, we'll laugh about how our doctors and teachers and humanitarians and ministers once left us in tears on the bathroom floor, and we'll marvel at how God used faithful, willing moms to influence these spirited children who grew up to become world-changers.


Let us know grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.  Galatians 6:9  

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Why Is It So Hard to Say No?

In the past week I've had separate conversations with two dear friends that centered around our inability to say no to basically anyone who requests our help.  We laughed about how we have no idea how to set boundaries or create margin in our lives then our laughter dissolved into silent tears of frustration.  Ok, maybe that was just me.  I noticed that what my friends and I share are careers that involve helping children, and seriously, it is very difficult to decline a request to help a child, but we also all genuinely love others and enjoy helping, yet each of us realizes that our failure to say no is costing us our well-being and in some small ways, our sanity.

I left my conversations wondering what it is about me that refuses to utter the word no when I desperately need to say it, and I came up with a list, which is quite an accomplishment since I fail to ever create one for the grocery.  I can't imagine that I'm alone, so I decided to share my list, a sort of kindred spirit expressing what I know many of us would like to say.  Because, frankly, I think this is a girl thing.  I think our taking on incessant requests goes to the heart of who we are as women, and girls, I think we need to realize that "no" is not a four-letter word.  So, here's why I can't say no:

1.  I'm afraid of what other people will think of me.

Yes, this one tops the list.  Who wants to be considered selfish, mean, unkind, thoughtless?  Each time I weigh wether or not to accept a request, I run through a litany of what the person will think of me if I say no.  I KNOW.  Shallow, weird, pathetic of me, but I'm aware of the problem.  I want people to like me, to think I'm nice, kind, accommodating, superwoman.....  It's easy to tell me to not worry about what others will think, but putting that into practice is difficult for me.

2.  I'm afraid if I say no once or twice, people will stop asking me.

I enjoy helping others; I really do, but there are times I really cannot physically or mentally handle another demand on my time.  If I say no, I fear that I won't be asked to be part of something that can really help someone else, and that saddens me.

3.  Sometimes my friends and family need me, and I really love my friends and family and don't want to let them down.  If my life is filled with 60 hour work weeks that leaves me no time to assist the people I love. 


4.  I'm afraid I'll disappoint someone, hurt her feelings, put her in a precarious situation.


5.  I'm afraid if I turn away clients my phone will stop ringing, and I love and need my job.

I've chosen a career path that involves helping others.  I chose it deliberately for that purpose.  I love teaching; few things bring me greater joy than seeing a child finally grasp a concept.  If I start saying no to new students, I fear word will get out and people will stop calling.

6.  I feel selfish and guilty every time I turn someone who needs me away.  It's as if I am personally responsible for his/her success and well-being. 


So there they are.  The top six reasons I have trouble saying no....but I need to learn to say no.  I've been putting in almost 60 hour work weeks.  Perhaps not physically at the office, but my jobs also require planning, research, grading, returning calls, etc.  Like all of us, I also have church and volunteer commitments, and my children participate in sports.  I also homeschool my children, and oh, yes, I'm married.  A nagging foot injury that's been slow to heal has added doctors' visits and physical therapy to a schedule that's already busting at the seams.  And you know what, I am just like every other mom in this country.  I'm not unique or special in my struggle.  This is our shared story of overcommitment which leaves us overwhelmed and overly-spent.  Why do we continue to do this to ourselves, girls?  Why?  It's time to stop, so in addition to my previous list, I've come up with a list of reasons we need to stop.

1.  Every time we say yes to someone else, we say no to our own families.

I am my children's mommy first.  They need me to be present, to be fully there with them and not distracted, annoyed, stressed, and overwhelmed.  My sweet little ones are not an item to be checked off the daily to-do list.  They are precious treasures entrusted to me by a loving God who expects me to reflect His love to them every day.  They and their father are my most important earthly priority and it is high-time I lived that truth.  

2.  When we refuse to say no, we might be robbing someone else the joy of saying yes.

I began reading a book titled The Best Yes about a year ago.  Perhaps, I should finish it.....but from what I managed to read, I gathered the basic premise is that we should be picky about our yeses.  Not that we should turn down everything and sit at home and do nothing, but that we should carefully consider when to accept a request and when to graciously say no.  The author made a point that resonated which was sometimes we rob the "right" person of the job.  It isn't our responsibility to take on everything and by doing so, perhaps we are preventing someone from serving God in a particular capacity that's meant for that person.  We accept the job grudgingly and resent the person who asked. What if there's someone eager and willing and excited about helping out in that specific way.  Your no may open the door to someone else's ideal yes.

3.  When we take on too many responsibilities, it is impossible to perform any of them to our best ability, so we end up giving less than our best.  At some point we are going to drop the ball.

I can perform a few tasks well.  When I'm tutoring thirty students a week, teaching six classes, and writing five articles, I'm giving my best to none of those, and ultimately, I let someone down.  The child who needs my all receives a distracted tutor who can't stop yawning, much less focus on complicated Algebra.  I wake up every morning in a cold sweat wondering what I forgot to do the day before or what I'm forgetting to do that day.  It's awesome.  Really, love living this way.

4.  We are hurting our health, and if we don't take care of ourselves, it is absurd to think we can take care of someone else.  

Our health and sanity matter.  My middle sister quietly takes on tasks and stoically performs each one, never complaining.  That gene skipped me.  I'm outspoken, verbal, and wear my heart on my sleeve.  Both of us are hurting our health each time we add a new, often unnecessary stressor to our day.  We each have physical manifestations of our inner struggles with stress.  Lately, I've find myself wavering between wanting to cry.....I mean sob like a baby.....and wanting to throw a tantrum....full-on lying in the floor, kicking, screaming.  I imagine it would take place in the kitchen, where my children's usually take place.  I'd kick the cabinet open and closed, maybe rattle a pot or pan.  If the foot injury would heal, much of this could be solved with a good run, but the point is it affects my health and my mood.  Depression and anxiety seep in to an already stressful workload,  my head aches, and I'm not my best.  I'm my worst, and that's not good for anyone.  


5.  When we say yes to everything, it leaves no time to say yes to the things we really want to do.   Plus, it sets a poor example for our own children to see us relentlessly occupying our days with nothing but obligations.

I've recently begun to write, not just for fun, but also for employment.  It's a dream of mine to write, and I've finally been given an opportunity to perhaps pursue it more seriously, but there's rarely time.  My children need to see me pursuing big dreams to give them the courage to pursue their own.  I need to take the time to nurture hobbies to share gifts that I cultivated in my downtime.  If I never have downtime then I don't have time to chase non-work related dreams and goals.  I need to set a better example of work-family-recreational balance in my life for my own children, so they don't
grow into careworn adults whose lives are filled with stress and commitments.  


6.  Saying no doesn't mean that we love the person any less or that we don't grasp the gravity of her need.


7.  Our inability to say no reveals a lack of trust in God.

This last one hits me between the eyes.  When I take on everything, as if the survival of the world depends on me, I'm telling God, either I don't need you or I don't trust you to handle it.  I say yes because there can't possibly be anyone else to handle the task.  How preposterous is that?  I'm not trusting God to provide for me or for the person who needs help.  Sometimes, I am the provision but not always.  There are times I take on a new student when I know my schedule can't handle it, when I know it puts my husband in a bind, and frustrates my children because I'm afraid we might one day need the income.  Rather than follow my gut and decline, I say no to God, no to trusting in His provision, and foolishly try to control every situation on my own.  If I truly trusted God, I'd trust His divine will, His provision, His leading, and graciously say no, but I don't.  At the crux of it all is a faith issue, a heart issue that reveals a lack of faith.  Sometimes, friends, saying no to others, even those we love, is saying yes to God.  

This struggle is real for me, and I know it is real for the countless number of friends I have who are flustered, frazzled, and haggard, who collapse into bed at night wondering if this is it.  Is life meant to be this overwhelming all the time?  Are we as moms never meant to enjoy the little things, to relish in the little moments, to cherish small snippets of quiet solitude?  I don't believe God meant for it to be this way.  He isn't harried, rushed, or frantic.  Look at the slow, deliberate, un-rushed patterns in nature.  God is never in a frenetic hurry.  So, I'm looking to the Creator who incorporated Sabbath rest into His own schedule.  

This summer I'm saying no.  I even have an accountability partner, my youngest sister, who I  texted last night a tirade of tiredness.  I usually text her in those moments of coming apart because she allows me to say anything I want and promises to not have me committed.  We agreed to hold each other accountable in this fight.  So, this summer, I'm doing what I love, not in a selfish-all-about-me way but in a restorative way that renews me to better serve in the fall.  I'm recharging my spirit and reprioritizing my no's and yeses, so I can serve where I truly believe God wants me.  I'm spending time with my husband and children and family and friends.  I'm writing, which I love.  I'm gardening.  I'm improving my home.  I'm choosing to live at a pace I can manage.  I'm choosing to help those who really, really need me.  And if I survive this quiet, sacred pace this summer, I may even continue it in the fall.  I hope you'll join me.....


Saturday, March 21, 2015

Turning 40: Five Things I Wish I Had Known 20 Years Ago

This July is my fortieth birthday.  Forty isn't a little mile marker on the life highway, it's one of those big flashing billboards reminding you not to text and drive on the interstate.  You might notice it for a moment as you glance up from your smart phone.....the one that didn't even exist twenty years ago.  Forty is one of those birthdays that requires reflection:  from where have I come and to where am I going?   As I prepare to celebrate in a few months, I've been wondering what it would be like to go back and have a chat with my
twenty-year-old self, the one on the brink of jumping into life with both feet, a life full of unknowns but also brimming with promise.  What would I say to that naive girl? What wisdom would the 40-year-old version of me impart to that ingenue?  So, I decided to create a list of truths I'd like to share with that much-younger me:

Dear 20-year-old Me, 

Look how adorable you are.  Not a wrinkle to be found.  Bless it, you haven't even graduated from college, yet.  I'm you at 40, and I'm here to offer you some advice that I hope will help prepare you for the next 20 years.  I know you have so many questions.  Yes, there is a Prince Charming, and he does all the laundry because he loves you and knows laundry is your least favorite!  Trust me, that is a very important quality in P.C.  Yes.  One amazing girl and one awesome boy. And you can relax because that journalism major is going to work out just fine.  No, no, you're not the next Barbara Walters, yet, but let's just say all the people who are currently questioning your wisdom when you get that dreamy, far-away look in your eye and respond to the inevitable "what do you want to do when you graduate?" question with an enthusiastic "Write!" then you continue to preach about the power of the written word until their eyes glaze over, ignore them.  It may not be immediately after you graduate, but thanks to the Internet, you'll have plenty of meaningful opportunities to write.  Focus.  I don't have time to explain the Internet, right now, just trust me.  Don't listen to the naysayers, which brings me to my first piece of advice.

1. Stay true to the person God created you to be.


Don't sell yourself short or change who you are to please that cute boy who sits behind you in Spanish or that English professor who claims to be a feminist but just excoriated your essay by telling you that your writing was "to put it in fashion terms Old Navy when it should be Banana Republic."  (You're a blond; people assume things.)  You are a talented, intelligent, beautiful child of God, and He has created you with a purpose and a plan.  Don't forget that truth when, after graduation, you find yourself drowning in an overwhelming sea of uncertainty, not sure what you want to do with your life.  When you feel tempted to change who you are to please others or to fit in, remember Whose you are.  Allow your faith to navigate you through these lonely years when you're on your own for the first time.  On those nights when you come home to an empty apartment and an empty bank account, when you crawl into your bed wondering why on earth you didn't listen to your parents and major in pre-Med, pre-law, or any of the one thousand majors with a starting salary above $12,000/year, just close your eyes and fall asleep knowing that God placed individual dreams in your unique heart for a purpose.  Stay true to who you are because there will be times when you will give in to the temptation to compromise your values in an attempt to feel loved or successful, and it will leave you emptier than before.  I remember feeling just as you do now, and if I could hug your sweet neck, I would.  Then I would place my hands on your shoulders, look you in the eye, and tell you to hang on, trust God, and I promise, you'll navigate your way through these years.  

2.  Don't be so afraid of failure.

You don't have to be perfect.  First of all, it's impossible.  Really, I promise, perfection is unattainable, so don't even try.  You might not believe me, but one day, you are going to say these exact words to your own sweet daughter:  it is okay to make mistakes because it is in our failures that we learn how to become successes.  I don't remember when I bought into the lie that people will only love me when I am the most intelligent, most beautiful, most successful, most talented, or most athletic, but it's a lie, and the longer you believe it, the more miserable you'll be.  Don't spend the next twenty years driving yourself into the ground to achieve perfection or man's approval.  Sweet, young, me, not only is it impossible to achieve perfection, it is just as impossible to please everyone or to be liked by everyone.  The beautiful truth is that Jesus is your perfection; He lived a perfect life so that you don't have to, but your freedom cost Him dearly, so while I'm not encouraging you to abuse the grace He's offered you, I want you to understand that the burden to live a life free of mistakes isn't yours to bear.  You will learn more from your failure than you ever will your success.  The day I gave myself permission to fail, permission to lean entirely upon God's grace and strength to meet me in my weakness, a load lightened and sweet relief ensued.  It's hard to explain, but when you grant yourself permission to fail, you live more courageously.  That angst that overtakes your mind whenever you entertain the thought of trying something new dissolves when you accept the possibility of failure.  The what-if I can't, what-if I mess up, what-if I disappoint someone becomes what-if I grow, what-if I become stronger, what-if I attempt this and it changes my life forever.   Don't aim for failure, but don't fear it either.  Live fearlessly in the freedom of Christ!

3.  Live humbly and graciously.

I'm going to shoot straight.  Right now, you can be critical and self-righteous.  And, that always-having-to-win thing you've got going is insufferable.  It seems to be quite easy for you to point out the flaws and inconsistencies in everyone else and conveniently overlook your own.  That job you turned down because you were too good for an entry-level position may one day be an incredible opportunity, opening the door to the career of your dreams.  You will be humbled, Love, and it won't be pretty.  Whether it's through your own stumbles, through realizing you're not as smart as you think you are and that you don't have all the answers, or through falling on your face in a very public way, the day is coming where you will not be so proud.  I can't spare you from this, and I don't want to, but I can assure you that this fall will be a good thing because if humiliation leads to you achieving a better understanding of grace then bring it on. Listen, dear, "that's not in my job description" need never enter your vocabulary.  Never forget that the King of Kings washed the feet of His disciples, a task reserved for the lowliest servant because He came to serve not to be served.  When your news director asks you to help clean the bathrooms or when you feel like you deserve a starring role but end up with the job of stage hand, perform your task as if working for the Lord.  Humbly accept constructive criticism.  Extend grace to others, especially those who don't deserve it because just as grace changed your life, God can use your gracefulness to soften the hardest of hearts.  I'm not recommending a tattoo, be warned aging is inevitable, ahem, but if you must Galatians 5:22-23 is a good one to consider: patience, gentleness, goodness, self-control, kindness, love, faithfulness, joy, peace.  Strive for these and remember never do you resemble your Savior more than when you are extending grace and serving others.  

4.  Don't get caught in the comparison trap.

Stop.  Stop it now.  Comparing your body, car, house, kids, career to someone else's will make you miserable.  There will always be someone taller, shorter, faster, thinner, richer, more talented, smarter, prettier than you are, and does it really matter?  Comparison leads to discontent, which creates within a greediness that can never be satisfied.  Apparently, this is such a problem, that God even addresses it in the Bible, Galatians, nonetheless.  "Do your own work well, and then you will have something to be proud of.  But don't compare yourself with others."  Keep your eyes on your own race, girl.  Otherwise, you'll be so concerned with how you're stacking up against everyone else that you won't run well.  God created a purpose for you, one that isn't like the one He created for anyone else.  Life is so much more fun when you stop worrying about what everyone else is doing and create your own beautiful, quirky path.  So. Much. More. Fun.  

5.  Cherish your family and friends.

Developing deep friendships has often been difficult for you.  Outside of a great relationship with your siblings, which fortunately, you still have, you've only had a couple of meaningful friendships.  I'm here to explain why that's been true.  Don't worry; you figure this one out and the rewards are tremendous.  Honesty and vulnerability are the absolute keys to meaningful friendships.  Because you've never really been comfortable in your own skin and confident in who you are, your friendships tend to remain shallow and surface-level.  If you're constantly concerned with whether or not someone will still like you once they get to know the true you, then intimacy is impossible.  You have to be willing to risk people seeing the real you, quirks, flaws, and all, and then you must trust them enough to accept and even, love you just as you are.  If you aren't willing to reveal your true self to others then you'll never learn to make friends. 

 Right after you have your sweet girl, you are going to need friends who get what it's like to not sleep for 24 hours and who understand how distressing it is to leak milk in the middle of a business meeting.  You are going to need friends who understand how harrowing it is when children meltdown in the middle of Macy's and throw a tantrum at the checkout of Target.  You need friends who will call you out when you're behaving like a spoiled brat, who will bring you dinner when you haven't had time to shower, much less shop for groceries, who will challenge you to attempt things you thought were impossible, who will pick you up when you fall on your first 20 attempts, who will celebrate you at your best and love you at your worst, who will meet you at Starbucks to listen as you grieve the loss of a loved one, who will baby-sit your children at the absolute last minute because you forgot to call your sitter, who will not allow you to settle for less than your best those days you're feeling lazy, who will run half-marathons with you, who will attend Harry Connick, Jr. concerts without complaining, who won't allow you to give up.

While your husband will be your best friend and do all this and more, he needs guy pals and you need girlfriends.  I have just recently begun to understand the power of friendship.  The Bible celebrates friendships with the story of David and Jonathan and with reminders in Proverbs of the importance of friends.  Don't limit yourself to friends who are your age, your denomination, your political party. You also need friends who are older and wiser, young and fun, who challenge your beliefs in a way that makes them stronger and allows you to weed out what isn't true and dear.  You are not only surrounded by the love of your husband, sisters, and brother, parents, in-laws,
and others who love you no matter what, you are also bolstered by dozens of amazing girls who truly love you just as you are.  Don't be afraid to be you; you are valuable simply because God says you are, so be willing to allow others to see the real you.

And last, but not least, don't take yourself too seriously.  Laugh and love because the greatest of these is love.  Stop playing it safe to protect your heart.  Take risks, risks that are wise, of course, but take risks for the kingdom.  Jesus didn't stay in the safety of the synagouge; he got out and got his hands dirty.  He loved the unlovable, the poor, the downtrodden, the outcast. Risk a broken heart, loving others may hurt, but it's worth the risk. Risk being real, risk starting a business, risk trying a new sport, risk loving those who are difficult to love and who aren't like you, risk giving to someone who can never repay you, risk pouring yourself out like a drink offering for Christ.  Get off the sidelines and get into the game.  Live this life, girl.  You won't regret it.

While this is just a fraction of what I wish I could tell you, there are things you need to figure out on your own. Be aware that you will face heartache and tragedy, but you will also experience joy and love that you can't even imagine right now.  Don't wish away the next twenty years, striving to get to the next stage.  Enjoy the in-between times, the times when God seems silent or faraway, those times you feel stuck in a meaningless job or like you'll never reach a goal.  Remember that sometimes you have to wander in the wilderness before God brings you into the promised land.  Live courageously, humbly, graciously, and joyfully.  Before you know it, you'll be celebrating your fortieth birthday, and don't worry, you will come into your own, you will worry less about what others think, you will learn to be brave and selfless, and you will learn to do the hard things.  The best part is you will do it surrounded by love.

With love,
You at 40