Brave, Anyway

Tag: parenting

  • Perfection Redefined

    Perfection Redefined

    With the exception of Mary, I don’t think I’ve even once thought about the women in Jesus’ family tree. What a horrible thing to be true about a Christian and a feminist.

    But a few weeks ago I came across an artist named Tricia Robinson, and was really moved by her work and especially her words about The Four.

    Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba have something in common. They are grandmothers in Jesus’ family tree. Some were prostitutes, involved in affairs, some lied and were truly not the starry-eyed perfect princess. But God chose them…these four broken women. And that’s why I gave them crowns. A symbol of grace and love from our Creator and Redeemer.

    The Four, by Tricia Robinson

    I knew the stories of these women, but it never occurred to me that they were part of the lineage of Jesus. And it struck me that I have harbored a secret belief that all the people in His family were and are people who meet a high standard of perfection.

    I know that I can lean toward perfectionism and I thought I had identified all the thought patterns that needed redirection, until my reaction when I saw this artist’s work and her words. The bad and the ugly is that I still expect perfection of myself, and that’s not an attainable goal.

    I am very disciplined about setting realistic goals at work, but I am not-so-disciplined in my personal life. Particularly as it relates to setting realistic expectations of myself in my most important job: mom. I guess maybe a lot of moms fret about whether or not everything they say and do is enough, but I really feel that weight more in the last few years because my girls need and deserve a parent who is focused above all on them and who sets a good example.

    I may not be out sleeping around, but I certainly drop F bombs and can get my judge-y on. Translate: I’m far from anyone’s definition of perfection, including and especially my own.

    I also love the words of Ann Voskamp, which Tricia Robinson shared in her packaging with the print:

    Four broken women – women who felt like outsiders, like has-beens, like never-beens…women who didn’t fit in…And Jesus claims exactly these who are wandering and wondering and wounded and worn out as His.

    I feel like an outsider regularly. Depending on where I am, I may be the Christian who’s not a Republican, the Mom who asks uncomfortable questions of other kids’ parents, the one who won’t come to something if I can’t bring my girls with me, or the opinionated divorced lady who makes people uncomfortable because I am not afraid to stand up for myself or to encourage women to stand up for themselves. I’m a girl who doesn’t care about hair and make-up. I’m not a “single-pringle” looking for fun, but a woman committed to peace. And I’m not good at keeping up with friends and I don’t go on girl trips because in my non-working hours I hang out with my girls, cook with my father-in-law, or yell at the news and my Twitter feed.

    I am also wandering and wondering and worn out regularly. There’s a never-ending list of things I feel like I haven’t done (and that I actually haven’t done!). There’s a never-ending list of things I need to do with and for the girls, and that I need to teach them about and to talk to them about. There’s a never-ending list of things I’ve missed and of things that I never even thought about needing to cover until a situation arises and I think How did I not think about and plan for this conversation??? Which brings me back to: I’m far from anyone’s definition of perfection, including and especially my own.

    Maybe I should redefine “perfection” as simply doing the best I can. Because grace. But can I do that? Maybe it’s brave to accept a radical notion like my best is enough. Because grace. But is that crazy?

    As I was pondering it all tonight, Audrey fell off her bike and skinned her knees. I ran to grab the bin of materials to get her all cleaned up, and when I opened the gallon Ziploc bag of Band-Aids – which are the leftovers from dozens of boxes and themes we’ve had over the years – the one she pulled out said Brave.

    The family of Jesus is filled with imperfect people and followers. I’m one of them.

  • Back To School?

    Back To School?

    There’s no way we can go back to school and keep children and educators safe. I’ve resigned myself to this, and at the same time it makes me really frustrated and really angry.

    There are tourists and locals filling restaurants here every night. Bars are open. The local water park is hosting kids and their families each day. Music lessons and gymnastics practices and dance classes have resumed for kids. How is it that so many unnecessary elements of life are functional and school is a giant omnishambles?

    I’m thankful that businesses have been able to re-open and that people have been able to get back to work. I’m thankful that people can start to pay their rent and their bills. But I can’t shake this feeling that while it’s great that my daughters and I could get our hair done and have acrylic nails put on, that’s not what we – meaning our government and leaders – should have chosen as the stuff to focus on.

    It’s clear to me that we’ve put lots of thought and energy and resources into many wrong things since mid-March. We have kids back on balance beams and to practices for whatever sports they play, but what the hell were we doing focusing even one ounce of energy on those things before we figured out how to safely educate our nation’s children?

    In the last four months that we’ve known about this coming problem, it just seems like we’ve done a whole lot of nothing. And now we have proposed the couple paths of least resistance, giving parents (but not really teachers) a “choice,” and we are calling that our best.

    1. Students can attend school in person, full or part-time, with safety protocols.

    or

    2. Students can opt for 100% online, with parents committing to this plan for the first half of the year.

    Source for local options in Chesapeake, Virginia.

    In some districts, school is 100% virtual for the first quarter with the goal of 50/50 later in the year – meaning 2 days a week for some, 2 days a week for others, and 1 day a week teacher work day. In some districts, no decisions have officially been made yet – although I think they have been made and elected cowards are delaying the inevitable backlash as long as possible.

    Distance learning, as we’ve had it, was not learning. Learning is the acquiring of new knowledge. At best our distance program was maintenance. Maintenance with really crappy technology that was not designed for the volume it’s been seeing. Maintenance because maybe it kept some children at the level they were on when they walked out of schools on March 13. Maintenance that really only benefitted those children living in the best of circumstances, with technology at home and parents or siblings or caregivers to help.

    I realize that the plan for “learning” is supposed to be different for the fall session than it was back in the spring, but I just don’t see how it can possibly be that effective – especially for children who aren’t privileged in some way. In the spring, Audrey’s elementary school teacher was absolutely fantastic. She sent regular updates, she gave clear directions for where to find everything, and she even scheduled one-on-ones with her students and showered them with love and attention and encouragement. From my vantage point, she did everything she could and more with the limited resources and guidelines she had. And yet on the weekly zoom calls she hosted, many – like roughly ⅓ – of the children didn’t attend and some of the children from Audrey’s class literally never attended. I wonder how those children are faring? I wonder if anyone making decisions about school wonders about how those children are faring and really considers them in these decisions?

    At the high school level, I experienced three categories of engagement from teachers. Some sent no status until the end of the year. Some sent a progress report every 2-3 weeks. One teacher sent a consistent weekly report or check-in. That regular check-in was from Ella’s PE teacher, and while I was thankful for the update that’s not the class I was wondering about. But the bottom line is that each of those levels of engagement for my high school student was fine because she’s an honor student. She got her work done, which I was able to check online at any time, and she will likely always do so with little-to-no prodding by me. Learning is not hard for her and she lives in a home with high-speed internet and with a parent who can work from home. She has the ability to ask questions of dozens of smart friends and adults any time. (Although I could not help with trigonometry if my life depended on it.) She is privileged.

    Distance learning is not ideal for large portions of our population now matter how you cut it – for children who struggle with learning, for children who don’t struggle with learning, for children who have fewer resources, for children who have IEPs or 504s. Distance learning is not ideal for many children who are privileged and downright not possible for many children who aren’t. And yet if distance learning is truly the only safe option, why have we put so little effort into making it feasible for as many children as possible?

    I understand that to some extent our leaders are reacting to a situation that is constantly changing, but how did we not have even a basic disaster plan for education in a time of war or crisis that we could have built upon for something like this health crisis? How did companies around the world send millions of people to work at home and we can’t figure out something better than the constantly-crashing Schoology? How come other countries have figured this out and we haven’t? (I do know that in part the answer to that last question is that citizens of those other countries acted like adults, put on their big-people panties, and wore the damn masks to prevent the kind of health crisis we’re facing in the U.S.)

    It seems like we just put all the wrong people on this task force. This is not the fault of teachers. This is the fault of leaders. And this is the fault of voters. We’ve made some very poor leadership choices, and now our children are going to suffer the consequences of that. That weighs on me. I pay a lot of attention to national elections and state elections, but not as much to local school board stuff. That is a bad, bad, bad habit.

    I don’t have any answers. Just frustrations. And regrets. And foreboding. And sadness. And a growing worry that at some point we’re even going to expect our teachers to pay for their own PPE.

  • Home

    What makes a home is very simple: love and safety.

    Safety to be your whole self and to say anything, while knowing without a shadow of a doubt that you will always be unconditionally loved by the people there.

    It’s true when you’re 5 and when you’re 75.

    Home can be a house, apartment, tent, car, aisle in Target, and even in a phone call. It’s about the space you’re in with another person or other people.

    It’s not about bricks or walls or appliances or decorations.

    If you don’t have love and safety, you are in a place called a building or a dwelling or a house – you are not in a home.

    If you don’t have love and safety, you are not home.

  • Dads and Dogs and Peace

    Dads and Dogs and Peace

    At least a thousand times in years 1-21, I heard my Dad say If you hang around with dogs, you’ll start barking like a dog. Even now at 46 years of age it sort of makes me want to roll my eyes.

    I hadn’t thought about that line in years until I recently heard this gem:

    You catch what you’re close to.

    It’s true for children and it’s true for adults. It’s true in our personal lives and in our professional lives. It’s true with the virus the world is watching right now. It’s true spiritually, regardless of what faith you practice. It’s true with belief systems and morals – the tendency to follow the belief systems of our families in our youth. You catch what you’re close to.

    Dozens of studies tell us that if we surround ourselves with people who focus on positivity, we’re more likely to find ourselves focused on the positive. If we surround ourselves with people who are committed to living with certain principles we are more likely to maintain commitment to principles. If our close friends commit crimes we are more likely to commit a crime.

    So it turns out, the old southern “you can’t waller with pigs and not get dirty” and “you can’t sleep with the dogs and not get fleas” are based on some science and more than just naggy parentisms. (The latter sleeping with dogs and fleas example makes me laugh more than it should for a variety of reasons.)

    Father’s Day has me thinking about the things that make my Dad my Dad, and the most important things I have learned from him. In contrast to evidence that you’re likely to hold the same belief systems as your parents, I do not think John Wayne is one of the greatest actors of all time.

    However, even though we tend to vote differently, on most of the really big things we agree. And it’s his example and his words that have been a lighthouse on every day with rough seas.

    One of my earliest memories of my Dad is of us kneeling in prayer. It’s so funny now to think about him in that environment, surrounded by Barbies and next to a frilly Holly Hobby canopy bed. He was showing me what is most important while also showing me that location isn’t important – we can spend time together and with God in the tiniest or the messiest of places. On a beach, in a car, in a fast food restaurant, in a parking lot, in a small apartment, in a church, on the steps at school…anywhere and everywhere my Dad has always made the most of his time with me.

    More than three decades later, when Audrey was about 3 months old, we received some concerning news about the cancer she was battling. One of my favorite moments with my Dad, which is also one of the biggest moments of learning from him, happened as I rocked her to sleep in her nursery. He stood next to me, again in a place surrounded by pink little girl things, with his hand on my shoulder, praying for me as I prayed for her. I was praying test results would show Audrey was cancer-free, while he was praying that I would have joy and peace.

    The job title parent doesn’t end when our children reach adulthood. That day I learned from my Dad what I had read about dozens of times but never really grasped – that peace is what guards our hearts and minds when we are struggling, that peace is how we are not alone, that peace is the path to authority and control, and that peace is the path to victory.

    Peace is what my Dad has passed to me over and over and over again. In his actions. In his words. In his prayers.

    You catch what you’re close to. Thanks, Dad, for Peace and peace. In my life, and in the lives of your granddaughters.

    My Dad. Fierce protector of teenage daughters, and even today at almost 80, questioning his teenage granddaughter about boys.
    This is the look that my Dad has when he thinks I’ve lost my mind, as I tried to explain that this was a way to get us both in the picture while standing apart for social distancing.

  • Mother of All Human Beings

    This photo moves me.

    A mother supporting protestors while supporting her child while feeding her child.

    A mother, doing what she can in this moment, investing in the next generation in multiple ways.

    Genesis 3:1 tells us Adam named his wife Eve “because she was the mother of all human beings.” Perhaps it’s because of my stage in life, but mother is the lens through which I process video after video and photo after photo, wanting more than anything for our nation’s children to get home safely each night and to have lives filled with peace and trust and love and opportunity.

    I think it’s ultimately the mommas who will have to make it so. Who will have to have the critical conversations to make it so. Who will have to lead this nation through anger and grief to healing. Who will raise children to love one another. It’s up to the mommas, and we can’t leave such a critical task to others.

    Read the full article and see all the photos from this series, here.