Let's Be Better

 "The fear of being different is a terrible reason for a parent to avoid doing what her child needs her to do."

This morning Sweet Daddy took Peanut on a hike. She was super excited. Daddy daughter date to do one of her favorite things!

In Sweet Daddy's haste to caution her to watch for snakes, he instead concerned her. Peanut was very nervous about the hike and the possibility she may be injured by a snake.

Sweet Daddy tried to educate her about types of snakes, likelihood of her being injured by a snake, etc. She was still nervous.

While the reality of her being bitten by a snake was slim, it was still a very real worry for her.

Our first experience with anxiety therapy was by far the most helpful and educational for me. Our Xman was five years old and weekly we made the trek to Athens to meet with trained UGA psychologists and doctoral students.

On our first visit Marnie, our counselor, said to me "If he is worried or anxious about something,it is REAL to him. It doesn't matter if it is real to you or not."

That totally changed my approach to trying to help him.

You see we had spent a solid three years before that trying to reason with why he shouldn't be anxious.

We then switched gears and could say "This makes you nervous. That's okay. " And use our strategies to move forward.

I'm watching in my social media feed as we debate and argue and justify where we all stand on digital versus in person, masks versus no masks, the data, social justice, the everything.

Anytime I comment on any of these topics,within about 3 minutes I regret it. It always ends in a spiral of comments defending, justifying or arguing. Always.

I'm not going to debate the COVID crisis with anyone. My personal count is upwards of 20 now and my position will never be exactly the same as you.

Because my prayer list isn't the same as yours.

I am willing to have this conversation though - if the concern is real for someone else, it's real.

Whether you think it is or not.

Whether it's a real concern for you or not.

And when something is a real concern for someone else, the only right response is empathy.

If your child's teacher is concerned about returning to in person schooling, the worry is real for them.

If your neighbor is concerned about their mother shopping at Walmart, the worry is real for them.

If your friend is concerned about returning to church in person, the worry is real for them.

And when our people are worried, we don't say "You shouldn't worry about that."

Instead we say "I hear that you are concerned."

No but.

I think there's a blurry line between trying to "educate" each other into our viewpoint and making judgments about where others stand.

Mama Warriors, we don't have to share the same fears in order to have empathy for each other.

Tomorrow morning I have a dentist appointment. If you know me well, you know that I've already been anxious about this appointment for the entire six weeks it has been on the calendar.

I rationally understand that most of you go to the dentist for all these procedures without batting an eye. That for the majority of the population it is nothing that I should be worried or concerned about.

But I am.

For me, it exists.

In part because of my previous experiences, which are different than yours. But also just because it's who I am.

I don't tell people how anxious I get because I am often met with "oh,you'll be fine."

Let's be better with each other than "oh,you'll be fine."

Let's love our neighbors truly as ourselves.

Let's pour out empathy and kindness.

Compassion.

Let's rise above debating whether concerns are necessary and accept that for some, they exist. And therefore for those people they are real.

Let's love each other.

Not in Spite Of.

 "Surrender is not giving up. It's giving access." Father Mike

I glanced over during church this week and smiled as I saw the row of bracelets on Peanut's arm. They go from her wrist nearly to her elbow most days.

A few weeks ago the Princess surprised Peanut with an evening of snacks and bracelet making with some of her friends.

She, and her friends, stepped into Peanut's world for a few hours.

While those bracelets currently boast the names of her favorite characters and OC (for those not parenting an artsy kid "Original Creations"), they represent far more.

At a glance, they remind Peanut that she is fearfully and wonderfully loved for her uniqueness.

Not in spite of.

For.

They are tangible symbols of something that Peanut may forget some days as she navigates the waters of tweendom and middle school in the years to come.

I stopped wearing my wedding rings a long time ago. For a variety of reasons the rings no longer fit.

Peanut asked me about it one time. Didn't I want people to know I was married?

I know I'm married. I didn't need the ring to tell me that.

However, about a year ago I bought a set of silicone rings (highly recommend for those who want a durable but comfortable wedding band). I started wearing my new "wedding ring" like jewelry.

You know to church and special outings but not everyday.

I realized as I looked down at my own hand this past Sunday, sporting my silver band, that it serves as a tangible reminder to me.

I'm not in this amusement park riding all these scary roller coasters by myself.

I'm part of a team.

I'm loved for the fearfully wonderfully unique person I am.

Not in spite of.

For.

We've recently joined a church that has a lot of physical symbols and rituals.

I've taken some criticism for what some feel like is a "show."

Much like if you view Peanut's bracelets, or my wedding ring, you'll never understand the significance or need.

But if you were a part of the worship, the symbols/rituals would serve as reminders to you that you are fearfully wonderfully unique and loved.

Do you need the symbol to be those things?

Maybe. Maybe not.

Do we all need a reminder sometime of the reverence or authentic love of Jesus?

I'd wager yes.

Mama Warriors, I will confess that I cringe every time I remember it's an election year.

You won't find me spouting politics here but you will find me reminding you to make space for things you don't understand.

Consider the idea that people in your life may feel differently than you on what you consider big issues.

And consider how your judgement and ugliness will be received.

Consider for a moment that maybe it's okay for someone else to need bracelets up to their wrist even if you don't.

Are you building bridges or digging trenches with your words?

Does what you share make you a person others will feel comfortable having dialogue with?

Will people feel fearfully and wonderfully loved for who they are?

Not in spite of.

For.

Feeling 22

 “Mothers have martyred themselves in their children’s names since the beginning of time. We have lived as if she who disappears the most, loves the most. We have been conditioned to prove our love by slowly ceasing to exist." Glennon Doyle

22 years ago this morning I had been in active labor for days.

My doctor, a very patient woman who had been reading the newspaper leisurely at my feet for the majority of this experience, says "This is not working. Let's try something else."

This new baby was face up. My body and her head had spent hours butting against each other.

"Let's work with gravity not against it."

I delivered our Princess on hands and knees, letting nature do its thing. We threw the birth plan out the window and let the Princess be our guide.

That became an omen for my parenting journey.

"This is not working. Let's try something else."

"Let's work with gravity (nature) not against it."

Again and again.

I was thinking on my walk this morning....as the Princess wakes all "feeling 22" (not for hours of course)....

22 was 1997.

22 was the year I realized I was worthy of better.

22 was the year my best friend became my partner.

22 was the year I graduated from college and tried to find my "next step" footing.

Then just 5 years later, I became someone's mother.

There are so many things I wish I could go back and tell me that day.

I had read ALL the books. I had taken childbirth classes (do people still do that?). I did prenatal yoga. I wanted this baby to be born into a Zen environment.

We built a crib. Painted a nursery. Installed a car seat. Bought ALL the things.

And then I held my breath.

Every time I had to "try something else" I thought I was doing it wrong. Felt guilt for the mistakes I was making. Felt overwhelmed with the responsibility for who they would become.

Clenched my fists. Held on tight.

I tried to balance the incoming advice. All the things I was doing "wrong" which is why she cried all the time, she never slept, I cried all the time, I never slept.

I wish someone had said to me "This will be hard. You will make mistakes. She will do NONE Of the things in the books you read. And that's okay. It will not be okay sometimes. And that's okay. There will be moments of joy. Speak those out loud. Don't forget you are worthy of space."

But instead, all the mom groups and blogs told me how fabulous motherhood was. How I was supposed to "cherish every moment." How I was going to "miss this one day."

I planned our days. Filled our family calendar with "fun" (which if we're honest rarely felt fun).

I woke up too sick to mother one day in late 2013. And I opened my palms. I said aloud "God they are yours."

I reigned in those Pinterest mother goals. My new goals became keep them alive, keep me alive.

I created more margin and white space in our lives than had ever existed before.

I exhaled.

I became a witness and a traveler on their journey.

Not them on mine.

I made space for "let's try something different."

I let who they naturally are tell me what's best for them.

I made space for me.

Mama Warriors, as we wake this morning on Independence day, I'm reminded that the end game is to raise independent adults.

There's no prize for being a martyr in the meantime.

If we teach our kids that micro managing their whole world is our full time job, it sends two messages.

One we don't think they can make their own choices. We don't empower them to live fully into who they were made to be. Or to learn from their mistakes.

Two, it teaches them that love looks like an obligation at the expense of yourself.

Let's try something different.

Exhale

 "Wrestling with the Bible releases it from the prison we build for it."

I woke up about two months ago with hives on my legs, that soon became a head to toe discomfort. Over the last two months, I've seen 3 doctors, tried multiple oral and topical medications. And basically, they are here to stay. The severity of them decreases with some things, but nothing has made them completely go away.

They are my new norm. Itching is my new norm.

I've tweaked my daily routine to include two showers, two applications of topical medications, new oral meds.

I've been thinking this weekend how I have been unable to write. Not two sentences in a card and certainly not Mama Warrior posts since all this began.

One of my favorite speakers says something like "Reading is my inhale, writing is my exhale."

I realized, I've been holding my breath.

Trying to stabilize myself. Again. In an uncomfortable health storm.

Finding that balance between accepting where I'm at and hoping it will be different.

Holding captive the thoughts that it's something bigger than is suspected.

It's been interesting to me how quickly we accept something as our new norm.

We come to this place where we slowly slip to accepting less as okay.

I thought about how this is true of relationships.

How easy it is for our relationships with others to slowly slip to less.

And how we become okay with that.

How sometimes we don't even notice it.

How a disconnect becomes our new norm.

This week we celebrate the anniversary of our Xman's baptism, and the Princess' acceptance of Christ.

I've been thinking about how we begin so excited in our relationship with Jesus.

Devoted.

All in.

But do we notice when our norm slips?

Mama Warriors, it's no secret summer is not my favorite. Beside the ridiculous heat, the days lack structure and routine and seem to create chaos after a bit. Or couch potatoes.

Perhaps in the chaos of summer, your norm has slipped.

Perhaps a disconnect has become your new norm.

I encourage you exhale.

Connect.

Establish a norm that feeds your soul.

Hope for different.

Eight People

 "I do not at all understand the mystery of grace - only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us."

Last night we were talking about how before we had children we were adventurous.

This picture was taken in December of 1999. We stayed in the Heartbreak Hotel. We saw all the things Elvis.

I look at that picture and I'm both teary and hysterically laughing at what those two do not know!

I haven't slept in a few nights. As Iaid there last night, I watched the rise and the fall of his chest. I listened to that snore that means I'm really asleep.

I thought about what you see and what I see.

I see the blood pressure medicine, the asthma scripts, the inhaler. I see the records from countless surgeries (all injury related). I see the mid 40s demographic that is taking the latest hit. I see my rock and my compass.

In the last 4 days I can name 8 people we know with positive tests. 8 people of whom we do,or have done,life with at some point.

8 people that are very much not statistics to me.

And 8 people who I think would say "it's not the flu."

I've struggled with trying to find the right balance for our family. Faith over fear. Mental health as important as physical health. Understanding that each of my kids are different, with different needs.

Through it all though, I feel confident that I can say I have erred on the side of caution for YOU.

I've said no to birthday parties because one of us had to attend a very large graduation.

I've said no to small playdates because one of us encounters more people than your family through a job.

If we have seen you, I have been totally upfront of what I feel our exposure is. Our risk to YOU. I've given options - masks, outdoors, etc. I'm doing everything I can to protect YOU.

I prayed last night for God to give me wisdom in the big picture.

More than masks arguments, school decisions, open or closed this or that.

I prayed for grace for those who don't feel my 8 people's experience is worthy of consideration. Discussion. Caution. Care.

I prayed for me that my heart will soften so as my 8 people grows,and I know it will, that I'll be ready.

My 8 people aren't some media spectacle, or government conspiracy or whatever the argument is this week.

They are simply my 8 people.

I worry that we've become a society that until the people are "our people" - we don't care.

Not authentically.

It's not our mission field, it's not our problem until it is.

I think most current events struggles could be summed up that way - it's not our problem if it doesn't involve us directly.

Jesus didn't leave Zaccheus in the tree because it wasn't his problem.

Jesus didn't leave the woman at the well because her problem wasn't his.

I could go on and on but you get it right?

I'm challenging myself today to not think of all these issues as media or political issues.

But as people.

So, my goal is to do whatever I have in power to keep my 8 people from being 9.

Maybe you don't have your 8 people yet. Or maybe unlike mine, your 8 people said "it was no big deal."

Two of my 8 are hospitalized. No they are not elderly (though that doesn't matter in my book).

I ask as you engage in social media commentary and debate,that you just keep in mind when you comment that these people are somebody's 8 people.

When you make statements with no personal experience, remember you only have the picture the media has fed you.

Jesus left the 99 for the one.

Are we willing to make our choices based on the one, or based on the 99?

Either way let's remember all of these conversations are about people.

Let's try to re-frame our communication.

Let's be people who think about people first.

Buckled In

"With Jesus' help, we can silence the voices that tell us we have to be perfect to be loved by him."

Sweet Daddy and I met in the summer of 1993. We somehow had walked the halls of an elementary school, middle school, and high school and never met. We met in a mutual friend's basement the summer after I graduated from high school. Immediately upon meeting him, I deemed him "marriage material" for someone else. You see, I was knee deep in my bad boy dating phase. 

Over the next 4.5 years, Sweet Daddy and I became close friends. We traveled together, adventured together, and spent lots of time together. As friends. 

In October of 1997, I finally realized that not only did I love him, but I was IN love with him. I worked up my courage one night, as we sat in the back of a pick up truck staring at the stars to say it - "I am in love with you." To which he said NOTHING. I looked over and he was snoring. Seriously slept through my entire speech. I decided then, the next move would have to be his. And he finally made it there Christmas Day of 1997.

Because our romance began with a sound friendship, my strengths and weaknesses were already known. He had seen my no make up, hairs a mess, I just woke up look. He knew I'm unbearable to be around until I've been fed. And regularly. He knew I cry, easily. There wasn't much he didn't know.

Oddly, there was great comfort in that. He knew me, better than anyone else, and loved me anyway. 

You see relationships are messy. We've been married 15 years now - and it's a roller coaster at best. I take great comfort in knowing when I'm overwhelmed, and feel like I might just throw up, or I want to get off - he's buckled firmly in next to me. 

Jesus wants that kind of relationship with us. To know us intimately. Our strengths, our weaknesses. Relationships are not perfect. He doesn't expect perfect from us, just transparency.

Isn't that the message of the gospel, the good news? Regardless of our flaws, God loves us. We will never be "enough" in our book but we are always enough in His. 

"That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."  2 Cor 12:10

Good relationships take time. Commitment. Investment. Just as Sweet Daddy and I got to know each other slowly over many years, God wants me to invest that kind of time and energy in knowing Him. Being close to Him. 

Mama Warriors, today you are "already changing the world for His glory in just the way He planned: through (your) weaknesses." He's not as loud as the husband, the children, the bills, the world. Find time today to be still and listen for His quiet whisper. You are enough in Him.

God is in the Bathroom

"Some people think God is in the details, but I have come to believe that God is in the bathroom."

I read that quote earlier this week, and it has made me both ponder and giggle. So, I'm thinking it's fridge worthy. 

Perhaps it's funny to me because of all my gastro troubles and how important bathrooms have become. 

Perhaps it's funny to me because I'm a mom and the bathroom seems to be the place I'm most frustrated that people can't just WAIT for me, why they must walk past their father on the couch to bang on the door to want to know where the Doritos are when I'm in the bathroom? 

Perhaps it's funny to me because some of my most profound conversations with total strangers happen in the bathroom while washing my hands or waiting in the never ending lines for women's restrooms. 

Perhaps it's funny to me because I have this fixation now on knowing where all the bathrooms are. Much like I'd like to know up front where God is working. Where I can expect to find Him. 

16 Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. 17 For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. 18 So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. 2 Cor 4:16 - 18

That "outwardly we are wasting away" part has stuck with me the last few years. As at times I am the not so incredible shrinking woman. Outwardly wasting away. 

I have to remind myself that I'm "inwardly being renewed day by day." 

Challenges are opportunities to TRUST. 

I think the author wasn't suggesting that God is hanging out with me during my tough times in the bathroom, but rather that God is in the ORDINARY. 

In the things you do without even thinking about it - brushing your teeth, using the restroom, washing your hands, kissing the top of the a little one's head when she says good morning, placing your hand on a spouse's knee when you sit next to them. 

The things you do as naturally as anything else - that's where God is. 

That's where He does his best work. 

In the ORDINARY. 

Mama Warriors, I think that's why many of us don't truly come to need God until motherhood. What's more mundane and ordinary than becoming someone's mother? When your day becomes filled with the basics - nursing/feeding, changing diapers, cleaning up messes, praying for sleep. 

Sometimes I think we search too hard for our "calling" when our mission field is usually within our fingertips. Maybe you are being called to love the bonus kid you cart to baseball. Maybe you are being called to offer wisdom and guidance, or just a "me too" to the moms at the park. 

Maybe, just maybe, your mission field is the ORDINARY. Maybe it's not fancy or far reaching, but maybe it's just as important as knowing where the bathroom is. 

Because maybe, God isn't in the details, but He's in the bathroom.