Tag: parenting

  • Votes and Compromises

    Votes and Compromises

    Three years ago today I saw these images for the first time. They were shocking, and they made me angry, and they just made me really sad. I simply could not believe that a country full of mostly good people would elect a man who so poorly treats and talks about women. A man who didn’t value commitment in marriage. A man who looked at wives as an adornment in the lives of men.

    A man who speaks about women like this: “We could say, politically correct, that look doesn’t matter, but the look obviously matters. Like you wouldn’t have your job if you weren’t beautiful.” And this: “Look at that face. Would anybody vote for that? Can you imagine that, the face of our next president? I mean, she’s a woman, and I’m not supposed to say bad things, but really, folks, come on. Are we serious?”

    See original article and pictures here.

    See more quotes and references here.

    I’m not really a good citizen. I know I should care, but I just do not when it comes to things like interference in the election and phone calls with government leaders. The days of my naive belief in a country of people with values that holds leaders to a high standard ended long ago, when Bill Clinton stayed in the White House after his impeachment. I was genuinely surprised at that outcome – I thought he’d been caught in his lies, then tried and impeached, and that the consequences would rain down and he would no longer be the President. I wanted him to leave the office, even though I’d voted for him. It was my first of many lessons about how government and politics actually work, and more importantly about what people are willing to sweep under the rug or conveniently forget so that they can get their way or so that they can live in a world that is not so hard and not so messy.

    We’re spending all this time and energy and money on research and investigations and hearings…to accomplish what? Impeaching another President who will not leave office?

    If we aren’t capable of making the choice to not vote for a man who believes these things about women, it feels like our problems are so much bigger and deeply rooted. We aren’t just on the wrong path. We aren’t even close to the path.

    I believe that one day we are all going to be accountable for how we voted (or failed to vote). We may have thought we made the best choice we could, we may have told ourselves and others we were actually voting against the other person, we may have voted for him because of a single issue we thought he would support and so we decided to vote for him because of that one issue. But when you vote for a person – when you support a person – you actually endorse them as a whole. You don’t get to pick and choose parts of them.

    You essentially say I’m willing to accept a compromise on gun control so that I can support people with pre-existing conditions always having access to health care. Or I’m willing to accept bigotry because I want a certain kind of supreme court justice. Or I’m willing to accept someone who commits adultery because I don’t want to vote for a person who supports abortion.

    Or in our personal lives…I’m willing to accept inappropriate behavior with employees or vendors because my business may be at risk if I fire them. Or I’m not going to call out my friend’s bad behavior because maybe then I won’t have a friend.

    Compromise. Compromise. Compromise.

    And yet the reality, with politics at least, is that we’re always choosing a candidate who isn’t perfect and all of the people in our daily lives are human.

    At the same time that I can acknowledge we’re all human, I’m just disgusted with our compromises. Disgusted by how the election worked out. Disgusted at the thought that people continue to support this lying man. Disgusted at our waste in these impeachment efforts and our partisanship while children are on lockdown in our schools fearful of a shooter and Americans can’t get insulin because they have to make a decision between meds and food. Disgusted that the person who represents our country is not someone I would ever want my children to emulate or even be in a room with.

    I think what most people want is a world that just does not require us to think about and confront uncomfortable things. We want a daily life where we ignore how the people around us behave because we’re too afraid to not have friends or to be left out or to be alone. We can’t imagine how our life or our business can be without someone or something, and so we settle. Or maybe we are hiding and need a world that does not hold us accountable, and so we hold others less accountable.

    We must all choose, literally every day, in what ways we’ll compromise. Will we vote for people who support health care if they also support tighter border policies? Will we choose to be a real friend and call out bad behavior in our friends and family, or will we offer what is actually our quiet acceptance of bad behavior because we’re too afraid to upset the peace? Will we choose what’s easier now or what is right?

    We can’t keep thinking someone else will do something or someone else will say something. The reality is that we’re all going to have to compromise on some things but we have to be mindful when we do and we have to be able to explain it when we do. We have to admit what “whole” we accepted, not just focus on the parts we liked. And most importantly we must not compromise on the things that really matter – on the matters of right and wrong. We must always, always, always choose our children. And we must always, always, always choose right.

  • What Spills Out

    For every awful thing I can name that’s upset our world, there are at least a dozen related things for which to be thankful. For every negative way our lives have been impacted, at least a dozen positives or silver linings. For every mean girl, at least a dozen kind girls. For every disappointment, at least a dozen people or things to make us smile.

    The changes heaped on the girls were all unfair. And it’s a lot sometimes.

    A lot a lot.

    Especially on the night before a holiday, beginning a new holiday season, when the worry in little minds about how things will go is at its peak. And there’s only me to take it out on. And only me to help deal with it. Only me to help try to focus on the positives while acknowledging the not-so-positives. Only me to say “things aren’t the same but they can still be great.” Only me to try to figure out a distraction. Then only me to listen to the confusion caused by people who think everything should be ok by now. Only me to offer understanding for why it isn’t. Only me to help everyone wind down. Only me to say “you’re right, it’s not fair.”

    And only me to bite back the commentary in my head. It’ll continue to be unfair for literally the rest of your life because even twenty years from now when you’re an adult you’ll be trying to figure out how to get to four houses during Thanksgiving weekend while the people who wreaked all this havoc in your lives will still be oblivious to or not care about the impact their choices had on you and they’ll be somewhere focused on themselves, watching TV or decorating something.

    Deeeeeeeeeeeep breath.

    And yet, my relationships with the girls are stronger, I think, after navigating many tough moments together. Even the ones where we’ve all been super shouty. (Maybe especially because of the ones where we’ve all been super shouty.)

    I get to hear my children giggle with their friends at all hours of the day and night. And I get to see my children with their friends and see the whole “them,” because kids are different with their friends than they are with their parents.

    I get to enjoy impromptu after-dinner dessert creations. And then I get to listen to them argue and snap at each other, only to awaken to the alarm they set so they could get up together at 4:45 on a school day to do hair.

    I get to listen to their go-to music choices, and realize that at tough moments they both ask Alexa to play worship music. I get to see that they rely on God to help calm their storms, which makes my heart happy and also reminds me that I need to rely on Him more.

    I get to see – I am privileged to see – the good times and the bad times and the blah times and the working-through-something times, and the moments of discovery and the moments of frustration and the moments of trepidation followed by the moments of triumph and even the moments of punch-drunk silliness. In part it is simply being present in all of those situations and moments that strengthen our bonds. Sometimes it is really, really hard to be the only one present in those moments but I am so grateful to be present.

    I’m thankful for dozens and dozens of things. My Aunt is in town for Thanksgiving. My parents are all healthy and celebrating another holiday season. Home and car and food. My church. Laughter with old friends. My work family. All of our helpers. Teachers who really care. Veterinarians who work you in at the last minute. Chocolate covered raisins. Extended time off this week – time to read, time to prepare for the holidays, and time to watch an episode of The Crown. Photographs. Memes my daughters text or share. Forgiveness. Tender little hearts that want to see the best in people. Conviction. Snuggles and declarations of love when eyes are too heavy to keep open just before sleep sets in.

    My cup runneth over with things just from today.

    I saw a long post on Facebook recently about “what’s in your cup?” and it really stuck with me. Paraphrasing…If someone bumps into you while you’re holding a full cup, what’s in the cup is what spills out. Tea or coffee or hot chocolate. When life happens, what’s in our heart is what spills out of us.

    My cup runneth over…And yet what spills out in a bump is still a bit of a work-in-progress.

  • Compass or Baggage

    Compass or Baggage

    Love is never ever ever selfish.

    Love is never present when there are excuses or narratives or explanations. Love does not coexist with those things.

    Love is black and white in terms of its presence. It’s either evident or it is absent.

    If a person’s behavior is selfish, the only love involved is the individual’s love of self – not of others.

    Love is pure. And love is also honest. We cannot make something not honest and not pure into love. There either is love or there is not.

    Love is not just a feeling, it’s a commitment. Be it love with a partner or a friend or a parent or a child. And because it’s a commitment, people can sometimes learn that they cannot count on it once any commitment by that person has been broken.

    Children learn to believe in love, or not, at a very young age. They learn to trust in love, or not, at a very young age. They learn to live and love and treat others appropriately, or not, at a very young age. They learn based on the behavior of the adults in their lives, and they carry those lessons into adulthood. Those lessons are either their compass or their baggage.

    It’s our job as parents to be the absolute best example we can be. We will certainly fail at times because we’re human. But it’s our responsibility to work on those failures, to admit to our children when we’re in the wrong, and to constantly strive to be better. We’re not the parents of animals that primarily need love and care – we’re the parents of little human people who will emulate us and learn about love from us, and we need to behave like it. It’s our job as humans to be good people, and if we become parents that responsibility grows – we will be accountable for how well or how poorly we managed our human and parental responsibilities, in this life and the next.

    I can’t read 1 Corinthians 13 and say that even half of those statements apply to me. I keep a record of wrong doings. I get upset with others. I’m sometimes rude. I don’t patiently accept all things. And the truth is I’m not sure I want to work at changing all those behaviors. In some ways I want to remember wrong doings because I think it may help me make more informed decisions now. I have a lot to learn and a long way to go. I’m not the one who cheated, but that doesn’t make me a saint or any “better” at love. I didn’t sleep with my boss, but that doesn’t make me a saint or any “better” at love. I didn’t commit adultery, but that doesn’t make me a saint or any “better” at love.

    I feel the weight of the example I must constantly set. That weight is heavy some days. I worry about the example everyone in the girls’ lives sets – the messages we all send with our behavior. I fail greatly some days and that weighs on me because there’s really no second shot at many things. What my girls learn now about love and trust and commitment and honesty will be the compass or the baggage that they carry into adulthood.

    1 Corinthians 13: 4-8 Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous, it does not brag, and it is not proud. Love is not rude, is not selfish, and does not get upset with others. Love does not count up wrongs that have been done. Love takes no pleasure in evil but rejoices over the truth. Love patiently accepts all things. It always trusts, always hopes, and always endures. Love never ends. 

  • Grief and Growth

    Grief and Growth

    Grief, according to Psychology Today, is the acute pain that accompanies loss. I’ve always thought of grief as a period of time following an event, but the older I get, or perhaps the more life experiences I have, I realize that grief is actually a lifelong process. Grief is not something people feel or experience within a finite period of time. And it’s also not something that hits you only when you’re in a slump or already sad about something else. In fact the opposite is true, and it very often hits when you least expect it – at a time of happiness.

    My grandparents died many years ago now but occasionally one of the girls will do something and I’ll think things like Uncle Dale would just love that ornery-ness in Audrey or Mama would not like this music but she would be tickled pink to see Ella sing in church. Sometimes those thoughts make me smile and sometimes they bring tears to my eyes, and I think that’s because I’m still sad that they aren’t here with us.

    Grief is not just about mourning a person, but it’s also about mourning the loss of a thing – a job, a child’s favorite stuffed animal, a home when you move. And it can even be about unmet expectations, including expectations you may not have even known you had.

    Children have expectations about their life that grow and mature as they get older, as their world gets bigger, and as they reach milestones. A young person who never had parents may still mourn the absence of parents on a prom night or a wedding day or even a dark day like one of a diagnosis. A child who used to live with two parents may suddenly notice a traditional family at a restaurant or even on TV and then be overwhelmed with feelings such as I only have one parent here.

    I don’t think I believe in the old adage time heals all wounds. I think our wounds *can* heal with time, but when that happens it’s because we’ve used our time and energy to think about all that’s happened and we’ve bravely faced all we did or did not see, all the choices we made, or all that we could not control.

    For children this is especially tough because they really don’t control a lot that happens in their early life. And one of the complexities tied to their grief and their moving on from something is that it can seem like their ability to accept a situation is a validation of poor decisions others have made. What is simply an acceptance of the adult, and a willingness to love the adult anyway, can be a very large leap for wounded hearts to make.

    A child’s ability to move on with their life or accept a situation is also not the end of grief. The sad truth hidden within acceptance is that standards have changed. With acceptance, expectations are often lowered – of people, of life, and even of God.

    Acceptance is supposedly the last stage of grief, but I think maybe the stages don’t always go in order. Or maybe they happen in order initially but it’s not just one cycle. Because what’s clear to me is that there are still days and moments of anger or sadness long after the days of acceptance.

    One of the hardest things to do as a parent is to watch your child grieve. Tears, anger, tummy aches, sleeplessness and yet constant tiredness. Perhaps the next hardest thing is allowing your child to grieve in their own way and their own time, all while not adding your feelings to their burden, rushing them, or trying to save them from it.

    I came across an old word a while back: nepenthe. If I’d paid more attention during Shakespeare lessons I wouldn’t have had to look it up. It’s something that makes you forget grief or suffering. Alcohol, people, work. Even good things can become unhealthy addictions as we search for a nepenthe. I think maybe the bravest thing we can do when we’re grieving is to forego nepenthe. The bravest thing we can do is avoid all the things that could make us temporarily feel better and focus all our effort on working through our loss and our feelings.

    I found that Shakespeare even nicely summed up all the thoughts I’ve been trying to wrap my head around: Tears water our growth.

    Some time ago, I read Max Lucado’s Facing Your Giants. It’s about the life and choices of David, and about facing the giants in our lives. Grief is a giant. It often doesn’t reveal itself as obviously as Goliath did, so we have to be on the lookout. And when we recognize it, we have to bravely face it each time.

    Last week at a work event, our leadership team painted stones with messages that are important to us. I used three colors to write the word brave – a color for me and each of my girls. Brave is my battle cry and my encouragement. It’s also my reminder that David defeated Goliath with just a small smooth stone.

  • Self Care and *Real* People

    Self Care and *Real* People

    I don’t think I can scroll through social media for more than two minutes without seeing some sort of post about self care. Sometimes I read things like Be patient with yourself and I roll my eyes, and other times I see You are allowed to eat three donuts and I feel like nobody gets me like that person gets me.

    Self care has twenty million posts on Instagram. Twenty million posts to encourage people that they are worthy. Worthy of rest or happiness or love or attention or respect or health. What does it say about our world that so many people need a reminder that they are worthy? What does it say about me that I sometimes need that reminder?

    I know that self care is about wellness, and that there are millions of people out there that need real help and a real plan to care for themselves properly. Self care is critically important for them. My experience with the term self care is in a more buzzword kind of way – like a special password that tells me someone is going to spend time in a way that makes them feel good. A pedicure. A round of golf. A bubble bath.

    Those are all nice things but it seems like we should be striving to live lives where we don’t get to the point of needing a fix of some sort for a few hours. Self care in that buzzword-scenario seems like filling potholes instead of figuring out how to make better roads. Shouldn’t we practice self care proactively, as a lifestyle, instead of occasionally fitting it in after a build-up of seemingly overwhelming things?

    It comes down to three things, I think:

    • shedding Mom guilt
    • balance
    • getting real people in our village

    And actually, I think maybe the number one thing we can do to practice self care is in that third bullet – it’s in surrounding ourselves with people who love us enough to be real with us and tell us the truth. If we treat others like we want to be treated, live lives we can be proud of, and live in a balanced, healthy way mentally and physically and spiritually we should not need pothole-type-self care. But because we’re not perfect and we make mistakes and sometimes we stray onto paths that aren’t the best for us, it’s critically important that we have people around us who will not accept our bullshit and who will call us out on our bullshit.

    We need balance and truth in our lives in order for self care to really be a way of life.

    We tend to hide our dysfunction. Simply, we don’t want to be embarrassed or ashamed. But it’s in our moments and situations of dysfunction that it’s absolutely critical that the people around us be people we have chosen carefully and purposefully – that they be those people who we knew would be able to say to us that’s such BS, or you’re lying to yourself, or you need to take care of yourself, or that’s not right, or you’re hurting yourself/others. And on top of that, dysfunction, if it must be or is revealed, will then seek other dysfunction instead of truth – above all else because it craves approval and it craves cohorts. Dysfunction wants others to say with their words or behavior that what’s happening is OK.

    Healthy people – our purposefully chosen village around us who practice actual love – will call out our dysfunction. It’s other dysfunction that tells us our bad path or our poor choices or our hiding is OK. Healthy encourages focus, while dysfunction encourages distraction. Healthy encourages responsibility, while dysfunction encourages avoidance. Healthy encourages help, while dysfunction encourages further isolation.

    In my circles right now, self care is mostly a password that allows moms to take a small amount of time “off” from focusing on our children, which is how we spend the vast majority of our time, and instead spend an hour on a pedicure or taking a Sunday afternoon nap. It’s the occasional prescription for a life filled with busy-ness.

    My life is filled with busy-ness, and I actually like that the vast majority of the time. Also, it’s necessary right now. This is a period in my life where I’m a working Mom of two children who are at stages where they can get themselves a simple meal but they can’t yet drive. Where they need an engaged Momma to make sure they are on the right path each day, and to make sure that their hormones aren’t an excuse for not practicing kindness, and that they get up and appropriately dressed and out of the house on time, that they don’t blow up the microwave, that they get to appointments and gymnastics and swim and chorus and youth group and play dates and football games.

    I also want the girls to look back on their childhoods and remember that their Mom didn’t just have guidelines and rules, but that she played – that she splashed in the ocean even though we all had regular clothes on, that she let them put crazy makeup all over her face, and that she sang Lizzo when the car windows were rolled down.

    This is a relatively short period of my overall life and I have to use this time so wisely. I realized this week that in this time the girls need to also see me model balance and self care. They need to learn it as a way of life and they’ll do that in part by watching me. It’s not enough to get pedicures together, which we just all like to do. We have to talk about the importance of down time, we have to take afternoons to rest together, we have to practice gratitude together, we have to help each other choose our village carefully, and we have to talk openly about when we’re overwhelmed. We have to bravely and purposefully be real with others, and bravely and purposefully surround ourselves with people who will be real with us.