Tips for Digital Kids

Our church recently hosted Walt Mueller from the Center for Parent/Youth Understanding to talk about parenting in a digital age. As an expert on youth culture, parent and grandparent he had many helpful insights and tips. I couldn't keep up with all the nuggets of truth he was dropping, but here are a few quick bits and pieces I jotted down:

• Immersion in technology makes us oblivious to the world (because we become accustomed to only seeing it through a screen), to each other (by being physically present but detached), to ourselves (because we are always reworking & remaking ourselves to gain likes instead of Christlikeness) and to God (culture is catechizing us instead of God). 
• Our habits & practices form us. The things we spend time with shape us. Are we growing in our faith or being misshapened by our consumption of tech?
• Be careful posting pride in your kids' appearance, athletics and academics--this can inadvertently communicate to our children that our love for them is performance based. Affirm them for who they are not how they look or what they do. Let their grades and accomplishments speak for themselves. 
• Fabricating, curating and promoting self becomes a counterfeiter/falsifier of people. 
• Before posting always take a purposeful pause to ask: Does this matter? Is it true? Why am I posting this God?
• Have a family covenant/code of conduct for tech use. (His website has a great example.)

1 Corinthians 10:31 "Whatever you do, do it to the glory of the Lord"
Proverbs 22:30 "The prudent see danger and turn from it, but the foolish keep going and suffer for it."

There were so many excellent points in his talk, I encourage you to check out the Digital Kids Initiative website for a plethora of resources.

Notes from the Field (Observations of a Middle School Mama)

I have never had the desire to go skydiving, but I have done my share of adventure ropes courses. Part of the thrill of these types of activities is the fear. You know you are participating in something dangerous--and even though all sorts of protection is worn and utilized there is the realization that from time to time there are still terrible outcomes.

Engaging the various obstacles is challenging--and the feeling you have as you complete each implement is a mixture of accomplishment that you made it through and dread at what the next task will involve. I think this is an adequate metaphor for my current status as middle school Mom.

My children returned to school last week to their second semester of 6th. How in the world can it be that I will have three teenagers in 4 months?

It is hard for most people to even say "middle school" or "teenagers" without groans. I'm reading everything I can get my hands on about the developmental stage we are entering. I know to brace myself for the turbulence on the horizon. I have three preteens who are growing and changing emotionally, physically, spiritually and intellectually. I am under no illusions that this will be clean and smooth. I know there will be bumps and bruises as we go through this awkward phase--and that to try and protect against that would be depriving us all of the growth, change and maturity that is necessary.

But, right now? Right here? Life is good. I love experiencing my people at this age. I mean REALLY, truly. I am enjoying almost every minute.

As a mama who goes through each age/stage/grade three different ways with three different people at the same time, I have always strived to savor the present. This often involves choosing to accept the annoying parts of a stage in order to focus on what is good and rich.

I don't get most of the middle school humor. I am not interested in becoming a Pokemon expert. Bottle flipping drives me crazy. We have a long way to go with hygiene, manners and self control, but we are in a good place.

None of my three are active on social media yet. Crushes aren't a thing. Skin is still clear. Friends are not yet eating each other alive. Emotions and attitudes are mostly in check and when they are not, we talk about it. Conversation lines are open--and they are rapid fire doozies!

Over meals and during car rides we are having talks that are so rich, so real and so very important. Just this week, gender identity, racism, hormones, euthanasia, depression/suicide, politics and evolution. Whew!! Here's the thing: I am so glad we are discussing all this. Yes, the pressure is on in car rides to make sure I am ready for any conversation that may unfold, but I want to be the source they are coming to about these issues. Blowing these subjects off or covering them up because I am uncomfortable will simply send a message to my children to get their questions answered elsewhere. I don't know all the answers and I tell them so when I think I need a timeout to collect my thoughts. But, honestly, the talks we are having are my favorite part of being their Mama.

So, to the Mamas coming behind me this is my advice from what I am seeing here in the beginning trenches: Fear Not, but pray up! I wasn't sure how I was supposed to use my downtime now that my children are increasingly independent, but I can now see it is for reading, equipping, consulting with older Godly Mamas, alignment with my husband and recuperation so that in the time we do have together in the mornings, evenings and weekends I can be physically and emotionally present and ready for whatever is fired my way.

It is important to set aside your own anxieties about this age and stage. Confess it to God, pray through it, get support, but don't transfer it onto your kids. I am noticing that for many of the most anxious mamas these things become self-fulfilling. Their anxiety/fears/wounds from their own adolescences can unwittingly set their kids off on that course. Let your tweens start to stretch their wings in semi-controlled ways, then show up and coach them on the playing fields they are choosing.

At the end of every quality high ropes course is a free fall drop or swing of some sort. The moment before you pull the release or step off the edge are the height of fear. You must look down and realize what is about to happen. I feel as if this is where I stand in parenting. I know the days are coming where we all step off and trust that our Heavenly Father's protections are going to hold--but there will still be a jolt.

Last week I had to circle back with my children on a conversation I felt like I had flubbed. As I brought it back up I said, "I feel like I might have messed that conversation up because I was nervous and scared. You know, you haven't ever been 12 year olds before and I just started parenting kids this age. With God's help, we can do this. We won't be perfect, but if we keep talking we can help each other through it."

The smiles on all three faces were all the affirmation I needed that authentic conversation, patience and love and going to be powerful tools as we navigate these waters.

These are the days...

Foxes

Saturday night was New Year's Eve but with a Daddy on trauma call and a viral bug that had kept me feeling bad all day, our plans were for a quiet evening at home. The boys and I watched football during the afternoon while Ryland was at work and Kate was with a friend. The family was reunited for dinner, then we enjoyed a little sofa pile/movie time before sending everyone off to bed around 9:30.

Kate came downstairs during the bedtime preparations and told me she wanted to go outside and check on the bunny since she had been away most of the day. Ever the conscientious pet owner, she wanted to refill his water supply and assure his comfort in the outdoor hutch during a rainy drizzle.

About 30 seconds after she went outside, I heard her howling cry as she rushed back into the house. My husband and I jumped up and followed the sounds of hysterical tears. We collided with a terrified Kate in the dining room.
"Something got, Bear," she sobbed, "The hutch is destroyed. He's gone."
My husband and I exchanged panicked looks as we ran outside into the rain and darkness.
As Kate had described, the hutch was indeed mangled. Two entire sections of wire paneling had been pulled back and three wooden planks had been pried off the structure.
The bunny was not in the hutch.
"He's so fast and so smart," I hopefully offered. "I'll bet he is hiding safely under the storage shed."
As the words came from my mouth Ryland tersely instructed us to get out of the rain and go back inside. I knew from his tone he had insight into the situation and we should heed his advice.

The commotion drew RyGuy back downstairs. Although Bear officially belongs to Kate, RyGuy has also taken a strong interest. He craves responsibility and has a soft spot for animals. He frequently feeds the bunny as a favor to his sister and faithfully checks on him daily. As we caught RyGuy up on the situation, the concern on his face was immediate. He quickly pulled on shoes and straightened his shoulders into a masculine rescue stance.
"I'll get a flashlight and help Dad find him. I know the places he likes to hide."

Ryland came back in the house with a face full of dread. Kate wrapped herself around him like a spider monkey as he picked her up for comfort. She buried her face in his neck and over her dark curly head he shot me a look that instantly conveyed Bear had not survived.

We broke the news to Kate and RyGuy. Their pained responses were enough to beckon Parker, our resident introvert, back downstairs from the comfort of from his nighttime book and bed. I was forced to deliver the traumatic news all over again.

The next half hour was painful and tender as we cried and hugged and talked about love and loss. Kate wanted to understand every detail. The fact that she and her Daddy had spent hours selecting and building the hutch for the rabbit's protection added an additional layer of pain. What kind of predator was likely to blame? Did Bear experience a painful death or could he have died of fear? What type of injuries did he appear to sustain? Where was he left? When do we think it happened?

Ryland tried to be more stoic--pressing his fingers into the corners of his eyes to stop the tears. He blamed himself because he had been the last one to see the bunny alive. He confessed that he had a fearful feeling following a nightmare earlier in the week of something dark crashing into the hutch and killing the bunny.

Parker expressed his broken heart openly through painful wails. After a few minutes he rose to retrieve a journal where he wrote an epitaph and attempted to cheer us up with his quirky sense of humor stating "Well, 2016 has managed to take another victim."

Around 10:30 we were finally able to get everyone settled down for bed. Ryland and I were then left to deal with our own emotions and questions. We eventually settled on a theory that it must have been a fox that struck the hutch. We felt violated, sad and angry. Not only had we lost a beloved pet, but our kids had been hurt deeply in the process. Then the second guessing ensued. How had we allowed this to happen? Had we been foolish to leave the bunny outside? In 6 months of bunny raising we had felt no threat of predators. Shouldn't we have known better? We had invested in a fine and sturdy hutch. What more could we have done?

As I laid down and attempted to find rest I couldn't help but think about how this marks a new stage of parenting. When our children were younger we could tightly control their environments, severely limit their exposure to harmful threats--but they are now entering a period of adolescence where figurative (and, I suppose, literal) foxes are lurking. We identify and prepare for as many threats as possible, but there are things we can't predict.

We pray. We plan. We talk. We love. We protect. And yet, we cannot guard against everything.

When I posted about Bear's death on Instagram several people messaged me with their own memories of the traumatic loss of a pet at about this same age. I remembered my devastation at age 13 as I found our cat, Patches, surrounded by the feathers of my parakeet, PJ. Like Kate, I had purchased him with my own money and been fiercely protective. And like Bear, PJ had fallen victim in one rare moment of opportunity when a predator could pounce.  

2016 has been full of goodbyes for us--my Grandmother, three foster children and in the last 2 hours of the year, a beloved pet. Love followed by the heartache of loss and grief is a part of the human condition. We cannot spare our children the very pain and life lessons that will be used to mature them into thinking, feeling, compassionate adults, but even that truth doesn't make it feel any better. 

Yet, as we sat together in the family room sharing our grief--loving each other through it-- I realized even if protecting against all hurt were possible, it would also mean blocking moments like these. The bittersweet times when we get to put all these years of loving, intentional investment to work by being each other's soft place to land are foundational for future relational needs.

I am reminded again that adolescence is a different season, but one God has been working us steadily towards. Our parental roles are shifting. As our children bud into young adulthood we have a choice: We can try to protect them from life or prepare them for life...including the times when the sneaky foxes break our hearts.

I am so grateful for my faith that God created every life in this family for His purposes--all of this is training ground for what lies ahead. So we lean into Him, trust His Hand and love the hearts He has entrusted to this home. Even when it hurts. 

The Ticking Clock

Yesterday my trio started middle school. By all accounts it was a great day. We love our school. I had peace in my heart that they were in a safe place with people who love and know them and are invested in their development.

I teared up just a little as I drove out of carline--middle school parents don't walk students in or linger, I was told. (Thankfully, I took our traditional photos at home beforehand.)

As I returned to my very quiet home and an unrushed second cup of coffee I heard the ticking of a clock. I had not been aware of it this Summer--despite the fact that the sound is always there. The clock is not new, neither is the passage of time, but it cannot always be heard amidst the 'life sounds' of a busy household.

I think this is why quiet is so important and simultaneously startling. It allows the waves of thoughts kept at bay to rush in. When we slow down and pay attention we notice the inches grown, the size of the shoes at the base of the stairs, the new wrinkles on our faces and the ticking of time.

While none of us are guaranteed tomorrow, a basic tenet of 'responsible' parenting is beginning with the end in mind.  One of the hardest parts of foster parenting has been the unknown length of stay. How long do we have to invest in these children?

It has been a growing, stretching, challenging experience to parent one day/week/month at a time. I've realized that this is one of the great sanctifying aspects of this experience for me--learning to walk in faithful obedience to the task at hand, allowing God to be master of the outcome. Although the practical lesson has been with my foster children, it has significantly shaped the way I now view parenting my biological offspring as well.

As I was pondering all this yesterday I realized my trio has seven school years left at home. Our latest timetable with our foster children indicates we likely have about seven more weeks with them before they move on to their permanent home.

The girls are set to begin weekly overnight visits to their home in a few days. They are excited and my family feels peace that it is time. But, honestly, it feels a bit like a divorce. The girls' ties to us have to begin loosening to make room for other bonding. Emotions are unpredictable and all over the place.

My heart is just beginning to grasp that after 17 months of parenting Bug and 10 months with little GiGi they will no longer call me Mom. But, the work here is not yet done. God, in His sovereignty, still has these girls in this home for a few more weeks--my trio, God willing, for seven more years--and I am praying for the strength to be faithful until the end.

When I stop and ponder how little time I have left, there is a temptation to panic. So many lessons remain. How much more can I cram in the allotted time? As performance anxiety looms, I can't escape that both of my parenting-in-my-home 'finish lines' were sevens. Seven, after all, is a symbolic number used throughout the Bible.

As I studied about the Biblical significance this morning I couldn't help but smile. "Seven signifies a completion of some kind: a divine mandate is fulfilled." None of our earthly timelines panic our Father--and I am not called to complete anybody. I am called to be faithful and leave the results up to Him.

This is just a chapter...but what a deep, significant, life altering one it has been for us all. I am weary, but standing on His promises, trusting Him to breathe fresh wind in my sails to finish strong.

"He who began a good work...will be faithful to complete it.." Philippians 1:6

"He will sustain you to the end..." I Corinthians 1:8a

Amen.

Regarding Honors Day

Yesterday our school held its annual Honors Day, recognizing students for academic excellence and strength of character. It was a day of mixed emotions, because (like real life) everyone does not get a medal.

There was the expected pride and jubilation by those receiving the awards (and their paparazzi parents) as well as disappointment and borderline-shame from those whose names were not called upon to be honored. The first graders joyfully devoured the dum dum suckers that had apparently been handed out to keep them quiet. Some of the 2nd & 3rd grade boys on the aisle stretched for high fives with each recipient as they walked forward to be recognized.

Many of the older elementary students seemed to sit up straighter with the announcement of each category and shrink back a little with resignation when their name was not the one called for their grade level. There was even the unfortunate muttering-under-breath from a handful of children who haven't yet mastered the art of sportsmanship or editing their self expression.

Our school's tradition is to keep all awards a secret. Parents of children who are being recognized receive a cryptic email stating "Your child is receiving an award. Please do not discuss this with anyone." The specific child, nor the award are revealed. For those of us with multiple children there is the added twist of wondering which will be recognized and in what area. I found that I, too, sat up a little straighter each time a 5th grade award was on the agenda.

It can be tempting as parents to view awards days as a measure of us and how well our little people are turning out. In doing so, we can relegate our children to projects we are developing. Does the world approve of them? From my adoring mother's perspective, it was plausible that each of our trio could have been recognized in some area. They are bright, precocious, growing 5th graders who are (mostly) kind...and so are dozens of others of their peers. In the end, 7 of the 46 in their class received individual honors, including 1/3 of my trio.

After all the names had been called, a mom of three children (spread out in different grades) turned to me and asked if I was nervous about handling the 'fallout' of only one award. As I sat in the bleachers and pondered the question I thought: This is the stuff of life lessons.

In our own home we had an immediate opportunity to practice celebrating with those who have been recognized and encouraging those who didn't have their moment in the sun this time. I think social media makes this true even in homes without multiple same aged children. This week my Facebook timeline and Instagram feed are full of rightfully proud parents. The parents, after all, are privy to just how hard a child has been working in a subject area, the obstacles that have been overcome and how this recognition may have been just what was needed in a particular season to urge a child to keep going.

After the ceremony, I had a little one-on-one time running errands with one of my non-recognized children. We were birthday party planning and the subject of the awards ceremony had not been discussed. As we walked down the snack aisle at Kroger he commented matter of factly, "I try a lot of things, but the only trophies I have ever received are for participation." He didn't betray any sadness or sour grapes per se...merely a somewhat resigned observation.

He went on to comment on a few of the specific recipients and how well deserved their honor had been. Although it was mostly a kid-led conversation with no lecture from Mom (this time) my heart lept at the real life sweetness. What I LOVE most about motherhood are the moments of realization as our kids start to put together their understanding of how the world works.

In those moments I am so grateful for the perspective from 41 1/2 years of living and all the more committed to being a centered adult who does not ride the roller coaster of tween emotions.

Contemplating the day, I was flooded with memories of many awards days in my past--some where I felt overwhelmed by an honor and others when I felt overlooked by not having my name called. I have been on both sides--flattered and frustrated.

In a world full of participation trophies, I value the tradition of awards--to lift up examples to which others can aspire and to say "I see you, great job." I rejoice with the kid in my home who was honored--and the fresh wind it put in that child's sails. The excited faces of the kids who were honored were precious and moving. Hooray for the noteworthy kids!

But I also empathize with the ones who didn't get a prize this time. Some of them get their kudos on a sports field or court, others from an audience as they perform, but some of them haven't yet had an outstanding talent or ability emerge that earned them public recognition. Everyone blooms in different ways and at various times. It is important to teach our unrecognized children that the awards and medals aren't to be expected, nor the measure of their worth or sole motivation for good work. Awards are simply the icing on top.

Our experience also serves as a parenting reminder to rejoice over success all along the journey in meaningful and sincere ways. In may not be a public medal, but a pat on the back, an eyeball to eyeball congratulations on a new skill or a sticky note on a bedside table complimenting a budding character trait go a long way. In the long run being seen, affirmed and valued is what all of us seek--and that should never be solely dependent on a Spring awards day.

Because You Don't Always Know the Back Story

I had a restorative brunch with some of my dearest friends this morning--an incredibly therapeutic way to start a busy Spring week. Among the many turns our conversation took was some confession on my part of an insecurity I am carrying related to one of my children.

I stop by the school a few times a week with a delivery that to a casual observer would seem absurd. Honestly, before I was in the situation I would have judged my actions as enabling, coddling from a Mama with too much time on her hands. Maybe in a few years, I will look back with a different perspective--but for now, they seem right, loving and appropriate.

My pride wants to explain why I am there and justify my decision--but my kids are now at an age where their story is not always mine to tell. It is not my responsibility to satisfy the curiosity of others or to assuage my pride by justifying actions. I'll risk judgment to protect my child's privacy and preserve our trust.

As I was talking with my friends, one of them teared up and shared a similar story from her adolescence--when her mother came to the school parking lot every day during PE to help her dress out so the other girls in the locker room wouldn't see her back brace and tease her. As tears streamed down her face she said, "I don't remember any of her lectures or specific lessons she intended for me at that age--but I remember that my Mama made sure I felt safe and loved."

We all laughed through our tears that this sacrificial act by her mother likely caused people who didn't understand the back story to label her in a negative way. I cringed at the realization I have certainly made the same mistake with my peers.

As an ex-Montessori Mama, a believer in empowering our kids, fostering independence and teaching our kids to be brave--I feel like a bit of a hypocrite. Yet, I am growing to realize that the most dangerous mistake we can make as parents is making broad, sweeping generalizations that we then cling to for the sake of our pride.

I am learning that mothering God's way means abiding in Him. Yes, there are general rules that always hold true--but those are fewer and farther between than I previously thought. God's grace is sufficient for TODAY--so I am trusting Him moment by moment, step by step and decision by decision. The road is different for each child. I'm trusting their Creator as my guide.

Furthermore, it is not my job to judge another Mama doing the same thing.

As we race toward the finish line of elementary school and look towards all the awkward, anxiety producing, exciting growth of middle school, I pray God will keep reminding me there is generally a lot more to the story than what we see on the surface--and most of us are just doing the best we can!

The Myth of Perfect Parenting

As a first time parent 12 years ago, I left few stones unturned in my efforts to parent well. A great deal of research went into what types of bottles, diapers, rash creams, formulas, strollers, cribs, sleep training, detergents to purchase...even what music to play in the nursery. Keenly aware this was likely my one shot at parenting, this type A personality wanted to do well. I didn't think of it as perfectionism...but more so as good stewardship of what I had been entrusted.

Eleven years later as first time foster parents, my pendulum had swung far in the other direction. Of course I still possess a desire to serve well, but my road tested and oft-humbled ego had a much more realistic and practical approach. We will keep the children God brings to us safe--and love them. This was essentially my strategy: Our family is functioning pretty well...these children will just get on board. Clearly it will be better than the difficult circumstances from which they have come. In its own way, this too, felt like stewardship.

As time has built bonds with these girls and my bio children have morphed into full-fledged tweens, I have found myself somewhere in the middle of these two extremes. Needs of the children have come to light over time. I have tried to dig in and meet each where they are and in the process found myself frustrated, exhausted and inconsistent. Being pushed to the limits of self has led me at times to take on a "whack a mole" approach--dealing with squeaky wheels and burning bushes. This from the girl who has a written family vision statement... How God must laugh!

Through this process I have realized that 'perfectly' parenting each of my current five is impossible. I am drinking from a fire hose. There is just not enough time in the day, energy in my body or insight in my mind and heart to give them all a perfect childhood. I am not every referring to Pinterest worthy meals, pony rides and perfect braids...I gave up on that long ago. Some days I struggle to cover basic table manners and homework time--much less reach their hearts and combat the lies that already plague each of them to some degree.

My flesh has failed. I cannot do this with the excellence I desire.

This realization was simultaneously freeing and deep-sigh inducing.
Am I in over my head?
Am I doing more damage to these kids than good?
What were we thinking signing up to take on more when we already had our hands full with three?
Were we obedient or arrogant?

As I confessed all this to God over the course of a few weeks of somewhat hand-wringing prayer, He sent me perspective-shifting and peace-bringing truth.

"Today, we groan as we serve God, because we know all too well our handicaps and blemishes, but one day we shall serve Him perfectly!" Warren Wiersbe

And because that quote came from a study I am currently doing on the book of Revelation, it led to a revelation of my own: We simply cannot serve perfectly this side of heaven.

Furthermore, these people I have been subconsciously trying to polish up and perfect are children...little, immature but growing people. The point of childhood is to train them up no doubt, but we are preparing to launch them into the world as adults--not place them in museums as flawless specimens. They are each unique works of art, full of imperfection and quirks.

As I have received calls from teachers about issues in need of addressing (in bios and fosters), sat across from psychologists and engaged in conferences with faculty and my husband I have had to giggle that 'perfecting' a child ever crossed my mind. After all, at 41 I am more aware of my own inadequacies, weaknesses and vulnerabilities than ever. We all have a long way to go--and this is the journey of life.

I am not for throwing in the towel and settling for mediocrity...but I am a huge fan of perspective. Stop. Breathe. Laugh. Savor. Coach. Love. And agree that the only way to make it through this parenting gig with our sanity and our faith is to take it all one grace-filled day at a time.

Regardless of how the current circumstances line up with my strategy or plan, "THIS is the day the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118 NASB

Preparing to be a Middle School Mom

As the famously dreaded middle school years approach for our triplets, I have tried to have my eyes open to what this new chapter will require of me. Since we haven't officially begun, it is safe to say I am now the most knowledgeable I will ever feel about this subject. ;-) I decided I needed to go ahead and write while I still know everything.

No doubt, I will review this post three years from now with chuckles, but I also believe there is a gift of perspective from outside that often gets distorted by our own fears and rationalizations once we are in the middle.

Here are a few (perhaps naive, but hopeful) notes to myself as I become a "Middle School Mom."

1- It is time to start taking my prayer game seriously. In recent weeks, I have been inspired by Priscilla Shirer's book, Fervent. We, as parents, and our children are up for far more of a fight than we fully understand as we enter the adolescent years. There is truly a war raging for our children's hearts, passions and loyalties. They are bombarded at every turn via media and marketing in addition to traditional peer pressure. We cannot prepare them for every specific scenario--but we can invest in their hearts and bathe them in prayer.

Additionally, quiet time is essential to keeping me centered, grounded and focused on what matters. When exhausted, not-yet-mature, hormonal people come home I want it to be to a Mama that is prayed up and ready to receive.

2- Clear my plate a bit to make space to be available. One thing that has already starting to happen is the tendency for my kids to come home and 'disappear' for a bit. Because we are doing this adolescence thing three different ways simultaneously, I can see that it takes on many forms. I have one that goes straight to her room to draw, read, make origami, listen to music or otherwise zone out. I have another that grabs a ball or looks for a neighbor to play with and yet another that turns to screens.

The one thing they have in common is their decompressing frequently doesn't start with coming to me. I want to give my preteens space for self care and rest, but I am finding that if I go to them after a few minutes, they generally open up and talk.

My almost twelve year olds aren't always asking for me anymore, but I am finding that they sure don't seem to mind that I am here. Even when friends are over, being a room or two away seems to be a great freedom/security combo.

In those increasingly rare moments when they do initiate a conversation about issues in their world, I want to be able to press pause on what I am doing and be physically and emotionally there. I am reordering my day so that, when possible, the most pressing things are handled while the kids are in school--freeing me up for more flexibility in the time they are home.

3- To stay the adult and not get sucked in to the drama that accompanies hormones.
I probably should just leave that sentence there and walk away.

Kids are surrounded by peers all day long. They do not need a 41 year old woman rolling around in the mud with them when they get home and share hurtful or hard things. Even if I do have personal feelings about a kid that has wounded one of mine, my job is to stay above the fray.

I am to be rooted, rested and ready to guide my children through the turbulent waters with maturity--not jump in and start insulting another child or their family life to assuage my offspring's hurt feelings.

At the end of the day, these are children--even the hurtful ones--learning how to navigate relationships in this big world. I pray when the shoe is on the other foot (because it undoubtedly will be at some point) the person we offend's Mama will be modeling grace and understanding for their child in return.

Frankly, extending that same grace to the other Mamas in the midst of this season isn't such a bad idea either. Most of us are figuring this out as we go, stumbling a bit even with the best of intentions.

4- To love them fiercely (which includes boldly speaking the truth to them)
As long as I can remember we have told our children that we are FOR them. Same team. Biggest fans.
It is a mantra in our marriage as well: "We are on the same team."

But being on the same team does not mean refusing to see and discuss flaws or potential pitfalls. Truly loving our children involves pointing out the areas where we see they are at risk of going off the rails. Perpetuating a false sense of perfection is not a healthy long term strategy.

Quality time and relationship build the strong foundation for earning the right to be heard on these matters. We've had quite a few conversations that start with "because we love you, we need to address this."

I really believe foundation is everything.

"It is easier to build strong children than to fix broken men."
-Frederick Douglass

5- To not parent in a vacuum.
The Lord powerfully used many families in my adolescence to mold and shape me in addition to the one I was born into. Perhaps that is why I feel so strongly about this point.

Parenting my children well means investing in the lives of their friends and classmates too. One of the most disappointing things about our early foray into middle school is watching the scarcity principle begin to rear its ugly head. It is, of course, human nature/survival instinct to make sure our pack is OK before we think about others, but I believe God calls us to more.

Not only is it the right thing to be concerned with more than just "us," it is wise. One of the best things I can do for the growth and health of my children is to remember that their community is shaping them. A rising tide lifts all boats.

This means volunteering at school when we can, supporting the children's/youth ministries that are pouring truth in their life, cheering for peers and classmates whose interests and accomplishments may or may not coincide with theirs, loving those I am co-parenting with and seeking to support them as their village.

It is a travesty when parents become all consumed in making sure their child gets their share to the detriment of others around them--not so we can all be the same, but so everyone has room to grow and blossom. We don't raise kids in a vacuum. Healthy adults have the fingerprints of lots of people and experiences throughout their life.

I know I am just starting this journey so I submit these thoughts with great humility. I am under no illusions that it won't come with bumps, bruises and lessons learned the hard way--but starting with a strategy certainly can't hurt!

Living for the Moment

I love Instagram. I post almost every day. Ironically, the criticism social media receives for being a mere highlight reel of people's actual lives is exactly the purpose for which I use it. One quick snapshot a day to memorialize what I want to remember--a slice I hope to hold onto--a moment that made my heart cry "yes, this was a good thing today."

There are a lot of parts of my life that are present every day and yet not what I want to promote, preserve or perseverate on. The chores, the squabbles, the messes, the outbursts...spilled coffee, dirty floorboards, hurting hearts. Of course those moments are there--and God is working in them to sanctify my heart---but who wants that in their chatbooks to flip through later?

So, I post the moments my heart treasures--the ones that make the rest worthwhile. Lately I have felt a real twinge every time I post a photo--a desire to tell the rest of the story. So, without further adieu, a few of my recent Instas and 'the rest of the story.'

Last night Ryland & I had a long overdue date night to see Drew Holcomb and the Neighbors perform...To get here it took not only concert tickets but 2 hours driving, coordination with an out of town soccer tournament, 90 minutes of packing 4 duffle bags of lovies, medicines, contacts, church clothes, play clothes, books and the like with the 'help' of five children, awesome grandparents who fed, loved and put to bed our big boisterous brood.

About 30 minutes after this picture was snapped we returned to my inlaws' house to a very sick little girl who I spent 3 hours laying with in a toddler bed as she cried and coughed--and an outraged brother who was exhausted from sharing a room with her and took personal offense at the noise from her coughing fits.

BUT...for  a few beautiful hours, I was just a girl on a date with a guy I adore and that is the picture I want most to remember.

A couple of weeks ago I captured this shot of little girls, staring out the door waiting on Trick or Treaters to walk up onto our porch. It was Halloween. They were simultaneously revved up and exhausted, squabbling even as I snapped this photo. There were tears. I had to make a rotation system for who got to hold the big basket of candy when the people arrived. But they were giddy and nervous as this was the first time they had ever been Trick or Treating or passed out candy.

(And the next several weeks are going to be magical as I recently received a breathless, incredulous question..."Wait! What? Christmas is Jesus' birthday????")

This make up free, unflattering angle recorded the freedom and joy we all felt last Sunday as we had an outing as only a biological family of five. It was a true Sabbath afternoon. We exhaled. We enjoyed each other with silliness and true, guttural laughter. (And if you look closely you will see that R is ducking in the middle behind my head because he is an 11 1/2 year old boy who doesn't particularly enjoy photos.)

And today, a snapshot of two of my girls walking along a bridge our foster daughters have been curious about for weeks. What you can't see is the one who most wanted to go made choices that caused her to miss out on the outing, and we left her behind shedding angry tears. Shaken and sad, we went anyway, because sometimes that's just what you do. As we walked I replayed all of the events that almost kept us from going, while these two girls chatted like sisters and I thought "This is good. I'm glad we didn't give up."

Looking through my camera roll I realized I could do this for most of our pictures. For every sweet reason I want to remember a moment there is at least a tinge of bitter. It's what makes life so complex and full.

Most are familiar with the 80/20 rule (also known as Pareto's Principle), a business term stating that 20% of what we do is vital and 80% is trivial. The older I get the more I can see that this seemingly off-kilter ratio is applicable to many parts of my life--and can often feel more like 90/10.

The majority of what I do during a day seems insignificant, dull, frustrating even--but when I experience those rare flashes of clarity, focus and purpose I KNOW they have redeemed the less memorable parts. Fruit comes from faith and work. I can almost hear my soul remark, "OK, now I get it. This is what all the drama was about."

Every day it seems God is sending me a little wink--a reminder that He is still VERY MUCH in charge.

Last week a challenging morning resulted in a tearful apology from me to one of our girls. In a stressful situation I jumped to the wrong conclusion and in doing so had hurt her little heart. I later heard from a friend that she had observed the whole thing (unbeknownst to me). Embarrassed, I fumbled to explain the circumstances that led us to that moment in the hall at church. She tearfully told me how God had used the picture of me, humbled and on my knees apologizing to this child, to speak to her heart. God redeems even our messiest moments.

As a tired and overwhelmed 40+ year old housewife/mama of five, my definition of "living for the moment" has evolved. It is far less about being footloose and fancy free and instead about keeping my eyes wide open for the moments that redeem so much of the challenging parts of my life.

These glimpses of beauty right smack in the middle of messiness are IT. Like the gold miner who sees the tiny glint and realizes the hunt has been fruitful...redemption is found in the small moments that dot our path. May we fix our eyes on the PRIZE not the circumstances and the challenges on the way.

Yes, we must give those obstacles our attention as we pass through...but I want my eyes to be fixed on redemption, grace, love, lessons being learned and the truth that God is active through it all.

When Words Take Root

"He (Jesus) saw the potential in the lives of sinners. In Simon, He saw a rock. In Matthew, the publican, He saw a faithful disciple who would one day write one of the four Gospels..." -Warren Wiersbe

I have a house full of big personalities that illicit a wide range of emotions from their Mama--laughter, frustration, delight and a fair bit of cringing. When left unto itself, my mind races away with thoughts of what a child's future will look like if this or that weakness isn't reigned in. I have written many times about my temptation to parent from a place of fear rather than hope.

I want to be a wise steward of these little lives, but I also want to be like my Lord. Not leading anyone or anything impatiently or in a panic...but living and moving as an expression of faith. I loved this reminder that Jesus, Himself, was a seer of potential...focused on who people were to become moreso than where they were currently stuck.

During a recent session of purging my trio's backpacks I came across projects that gave me pause. Each of my 5th graders had completed a coat of arms assignment, researching colors and symbols to use in the design they felt best represented them.

The artwork was cute, but the attached explanations allowed a glimpse into their self image, values and aspirations that does not come frequently with tweens. As I savored these snapshots of who my 11 1/2  year olds are becoming, I pondered the implication of words spoken to them through this first decade+ of their lives.

To read what my kiddos state as their beliefs about their burgeoning identity left me awestruck. They were given a word bank of colors, symbols and their corresponding meaning, then free reign to express themselves. There was only one duplicate on their pages.

Here are a few excerpts of what they chose.

 P: "I chose a dove which represents trust in God, because I have faith in the Lord. I used silver because it represents peace."
"Gold represents generosity. I like to help people like our foster kids."
"I chose a globe because I love to travel the world."
"Green represents joy, hope & loyalty. I chose this because I'm usually happy and hopeful. For example, I hope our foster children will learn about God."

K: "I chose the Ichthus (Greek for fish)representing belief in Jesus. I thought this would be a good image to choose because I trust and love Jesus and God with all my heart."
I decided on blue for my background color. It represents truth and loyalty. I used this color because I always tell the truth and never tell a secret.
I chose thyme for my image. It represents courage and strength. I used this because I am brave when it comes to heights and ropes courses. I am also not scared of anything.
I chose gold because it means generosity. I share my stuff with my foster sisters."

R: "I picked the allerion because I trust God and He gives me strength. I chose white because I trust God and He helps me with my choices. I chose the anchor because I have a big belief in God and I love him from the bottom of my heart. I chose maroon because it means patient in battle and victorious. I chose this because I'm doing my best and having a comeback in school."

These are just excerpts. There were certainly humorous parts that reminded me these are children with lots of growing left to do...like the fact that R chose black for "constancy or grief because I am coming out of some hard times." (Concerned, I asked him what he was referring to and he flashed dimples and confessed he just thought black would look cool.)

But, typical 11 year old behavior considered, I was struck by the insight this project offered. Even while groaning at chores, attempting to sneak in a little extra screen time or practicing making body noise sounds that annoy, truth IS taking root in their hearts.

Exactly 4 hours before these beautiful, hope giving words came home I was confessing to my small group all the ways I feel like I am blowing it. I lamented that the business of life and ALL THESE CHILDREN was not allowing for the neat, picturesque moments I like to imagine my family having...

The evening Bible studies by the fire I aspire to as marks of a godly, together Mom are a stark contrast the wet haired children I am trying to coral into bed or the exhausted big kids splayed across the sofa watching replays of American Ninja Warrior.

But through the faithfulness of God and the countless adults God has placed in the lives of my children, Truth is taking deep root in their hearts.

As I read their assignments, I recognized some of the words their father and I have spoken over them--prayers we have prayed through the years. But their were other parts did not come from us, but from coaches, teachers, children's ministry volunteers, friends, family members--and oh, how God is weaving all of it together to form identity in their hearts! Truly breathtaking.

"A person becomes a person through other people." Desmond Tutu

This is the body. This is community. This is how lasting identity is formed. What a reminder to show up for other people's kids with well placed words and the investment of life on life! What an encouragement to stick with the rhythms of Bible study, church attendance and even Sunday afternoon lunch traditions with friends that have become family. These rituals form a framework where truth can be safely spoken and actively lived out.

Moment upon moment identity is being forged. Just as it is hard as a Mama to see just how much your children are growing in height, I think it can be equally challenging to see how their hearts are growing in depth. Every now and then we get these moments where we rub our eyes and go, "whoa." All of this investment of prayer and love and talking is adding up to something.

And here's the thing:  NOTHING IN THE ECONOMY OF GOD IS WASTED, even those real life moments! Squabbling siblings, ropes courses, family travel, grades that reflect not doing our best, the blending in of younger foster kids and the stretching and growth it requires? God is using it!!!

"It's an unbelievable experience to watch your kids become their own person. You know that all humanity has walked this way before, but for you and your child, it's all new. You are living the clichés, but now they are real and different."
- Sara Groves

This week I had the chance to sneak out of town for 24 hours of reconnection with dear old friends. I realized it is the same way in my adult heart. I have known these girls for more of my life than I haven't. Over 23 years we have experienced the highest of highs in joy, love and laughter and the lowest of lows in loss, pain and regret. Yet, even in our 40s, when we get together and share our hearts we remark to each other "My, how you have grown since I saw you last."

Nothing is wasted in the economy of God--not in a child's life and not in their Mama's.

So, today, Lord, lead us and guide us in having eyes to see and marvel all the ways You are at work. Give us words of hope, love and truth  and the courage and commitment to speak them. May we plant words that help each other grow into the people You have planned.

Signal by Sara Groves

Just after I hit publish on the previous post, I stumbled across this video and lyrics. What a beautiful expression of the heart of an adolescent's Mama.

"All the clichés about how fast kids grow are true.
I woke up this morning eye to eye with you.
The love songs and adages couldn't explain the hope
Of all you're becoming, body and soul.

Your heart goes out,
I can hear your song.
Your signal is getting stronger
Your signal is getting strong.
There's no cliché when I hear your song.
Your signal is getting stronger.
Your signal is getting strong.

Many clichés about living this life are true.
The path is worn, but for us it's new.
There's no way to know it without discovering.
We are marking our missteps with mercy.

Your heart goes out,
I can hear your song.
Your signal is getting stronger.
Your signal is getting strong.
There's no cliché when I hear your song
Your signal is getting stronger.
Your signal is getting strong.

It's all been said, but don't be afraid to throw back your head and sing anyway.
Your heart goes out I can hear your song.
Your signal is getting stronger.
Your signal is getting strong.
There's no cliché when I hear your song.
Your signal is getting stronger.
Your signal is getting strong.

All the clichés about how much I love you are true.
As big as the sky and up to the moon
A million zillion
Infinity plus one."
-Signal by Sara Groves (from the album Floodplain)

Hope versus Fear

It was not until recently that I realized I am indeed a fearful parent. It was easy to deny because I am not your 'traditional' neurotic Mama who frets over safety. My kids climb trees. I allow them to fail and learn from natural consequences. We embrace adventure. We discuss tough topics. We sometimes eat unwashed fruit. We own a trampoline.

As my children have aged (and grown in number) I have felt led to really examine my heart regarding discipline. I cannot fight every battle or die on every hill without going insane or completely alienating my children. Walking through the process of deciding what to emphasize and what to let go has shed some light on my own heart condition.

At the risk of revealing too much of my crazy I will confess that a few years ago I literally sobbed on the floor of a child's room late one night begging God to tame his temper so as to spare him from a jail sentence one day. In my fear, I skipped straight from an exhausted and angry little boy to his future as an incarcerated felon over one particularly passionate bedtime meltdown. In hindsight I know this was extreme, but lesser versions of this pollute my good parenting sense.

I realized the issues that most pushed my buttons directly correlated with my fears about/for that child's future.

Last week I really felt the Lord impress upon my heart to parent from what I HOPE for my children, rather than what I FEAR. It sounds hokey and perhaps a bit impractical, I know. I mean, we must coach our children and help them shore up their weaknesses. It is our role to raise up responsible adults that can function in the world. But, honestly, for me this change in how I consider my response in discipline has been huge. I feel better. Less stressed, more positive and what a difference it has made in the attitude of my most challenging children!

As my passionate son responded to me with a bit too much fire in his belly Monday I was able to exhale my fear and inhale some hope. I sat him down and quietly said, "The Lord has wired you to be a lion of a man. I can't wait to see which direction he points your passion and leadership. But, honey, I don't want you to trip yourself up with this temper. I love you. I'm on your team. You've really got to watch out for this." I looked him in the eye and I meant it.

I couldn't believe it when instead of making excuses and casting blame, he exhaled and a genuine smile crossed his face. It was apparent he liked the picture HOPE painted. It was a far better motivator than fear. And it was miraculous.

I am new at this approach and have no doubt I will continue to stumble through--but I am liking the results so far and thought I'd pass this along to anyone else who can identify.

“Every decision we make today will be driven by fear or love. Who we toss the keys to determines a lot about the destination.” –Bob Goff

Today I choose faith that God is writing my children's stories, hope that it is far better than what I could write and love because it covers a multitude of fearful Mama sin.

Together & Alone

Although yesterday was my little girls' 12th day of school, it was the first day of 5th grade for my trio. We were up by 6:10 and working our way through the two-schools-in-separate-parts-of-town-but-with-same-start-time routine. I made major headway on my To Do list--including some quiet time to read and write. I didn't quite get to my grand plans for meal planning, exercise, reorganization and Bible Study...but it is only Tuesday :)

I confess that I find this season of raising tweens to be a lonely part of motherhood. Between my three we've ditched braces and glasses, gotten a first zit, are dealing with changing bodies, ear piercings, razors, insecurities and mood swings. My children are growing into young adults, and because of my desire to honor and protect them, I don't feel free to talk about it at all.

Honoring budding little people's sense of privacy and self is important. I don't want to embarrass anybody or hear/share TMI...but I do want to get all the other 5th grade Moms in a room and say, "Hey, you are NOT alone!" I considered having a back to school gathering just for other Moms in these Middle Years, so I could look people in the eye and remind them we are in this together, but even getting on everyone's calendar seemed impossible.

We are not the same women who sat on playground benches together 7-8 years ago grateful for any adult conversation. In those days, play dates were for Mommies. We discussed potty training, reflux, tantrums, worrisome personality traits and preschool choices. No subject seemed off limits. We were tired, but motivated and fully engulfed in our motherhood roles.

Time has changed us. As our children have grown and stretched their wings, so have we. I look across the group I started out with and barely recognize who we were. There have been so many life altering headlines: divorce, pursuit of advanced degrees, remarriage, additional children, return to the workplace, cancer, aging parents, addictions, troubled children... There are a lot more concerns on our plates now than whether or not to try baby sign language.

I find evidence of how we have drifted apart and individualized even in the simple things: We drop off now instead of walking in...carline, birthday parties, sports practices, even church. It comes naturally as our children grow more independent.

It is normal and healthy that we no longer hover on the fringes of the kids' activities. But, honestly, I miss the camaraderie. In its absence I fear competition creeps in. I confess that I find myself defaulting to the somewhat isolated place of "dropping and running." I have noticed the lonelier or more insecure I feel, the more likely I am to stay in my Suburban reading with the windows rolled up or hunker down at home and unplug from engaging with my community. Where our mutual overwhelm with early motherhood once drew us together, our coping strategies and circumstances now seem to have built walls that keep us apart.

I've been rolling all of this around in my brain this week--feeling somewhat insecure myself about the return to school and mom circles where I can't always find my fit. Revelling in the freetime school schedules now allow, I have indulged in a newfound interest of reading books I somehow missed as a child. This morning, in an old classic, a quote struck me that seemed to offer perspective:

“You see, though we travel together, we travel alone."  Madeleine L'Engle, A Wrinkle in Time

Ahh, there it is. Though we travel together, we travel alone... In this marathon of motherhood and life, even when we have the same goals we find ourselves with a different pace (often dictated by the other hearts in our home) and taking alternate paths based on gifts, challenges and circumstances.

Even those of us who are travelling together with the commonality of mothering in these middle years also find ourselves travelling alone because we each have a unique race to run. 

I am not a runner, but I have participated in a half dozen 5ks through the years. In doing so I have found there are different types of racers: There are those who don headphones, sunglasses and seem to be in their own space oblivious to the world and there are others who are so busy socializing as they walk that you wonder if they will ever make it to the finish line at all. Between those two extremes are a whole host of others who are running their race and encouraging others as they go... a little eye contact, maybe a little conversation, head nods of acknowledgement, a word or two when they can tell you are ready to quit... This is the kind of participant I pray to be.

We each have to answer to our Maker when we cross the finish line. God assigned our roles and our courses. I want to do well with the little hearts I have been entrusted while honoring my covenant to my husband. (That's a lot of hearts to hold on this race!) But I also pray I will be brave enough to engage the other runners around me--even when I am winded and it may seem easier to shut out the world--to take the focus off myself, suck up my insecurity and step out of the comfort zone to spur others on.

The Christian life is so full of both/ands: Grace and truth. In but not of. Salt and light. Truth in love. I think it is this balance of give and take...loving and allowing ourselves to be loved...that we will find community the way God intended and the great comfort that we travel both together and alone.

Learning Loss

My Grandmama has been a constant thread through my whole life--my early childcare provider and next door neighbor from age 2-17. I've spent 40 Christmases in her living room. She led me to the Lord. She has always been my Steel Magnolia.

We returned from vacation last week to news that she had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. At 90, the decision has been made to not pursue treatment.

This is not my children's first experience with loss. A close family friend succumbed to cancer when they were in PreK and they lost their other Great Grandmother in 2nd grade. Regardless of previous experience, walking through this at 11 feels different. I am trying to be as compassionately forthright as possible with my bio kids--but mindful of shielding our foster daughters from any additional feelings of loss.

The triplets know she is terminal. My little girls only know she is 90 and feeling ill.

Despite her diagnosis, she still looks well. So, yesterday while our little girls were in school I took the trio on the 5 hour round trip down to visit her. I attempted to prepare K, R & P as best I could, but some parts of life are just hard regardless of your preparation.

Even though there were a couple of house calls from Hospice, our time with her was sweet--a little porch sitting, some Scrabble playing and lunch out at a pizza place.

Everything was smooth, normal even, until it was time to tell her goodbye. As we were all walking out together, my trio rushed back to give her big hugs. With their tan, skinny arms braided around her waist, tears welled up in her eyes. Releasing their grips, K, P & R scampered away. Grandmama took two more steps before she stopped shuffling halfway to the door and leaned against a chair.

Suddenly this woman who has always seemed strong--spiritually, emotionally & mentally looked weak and frail. She stood in the middle of Johnny's Pizza with her face crestfallen, eyes red, mouth trembling--and there was nothing I could do to ease her pain, fear or concern. My heart hurt--and I wanted to shield my children and fix her broken heart.

But I couldn't.

I scanned the room quickly to see what my children noticed. R was frozen in his tracks, analyzing the situation. When he saw me notice, he quickly glanced away. He will remember this.

All I could do was take steps towards Grandmama and grab her hand like she has done to me so many times before and squeeze. She is extremely hard of hearing and there was a great deal of background noise in the pizza place, making words a challenge. I leaned into her right ear and shouted, "This is not goodbye. We will come see you again soon." I led her out the side door where I squeezed her again as she exhaled and her shoulders dropped.

She is a believer on her way to a better place--but she has some business to attend to here first. My Grandmama has 5 living children (plus spouses), 13 grandchildren (plus spouses) and 17 great grandchildren--and she has to tell them all goodbye.

Life can be so brutal.

We cannot shield and shelter the people we love from the realities of love and loss. Everything living will pass away. For those of who believe we have great hope that this is not the end. But, today, I am feeling the weight of walking my children through the dying process and managing grief--while experiencing it authentically myself.

One step at a time.

I am not predisposed to worry, but I confess our emotional day, plus monthly hormones led my heart and mind into an anxious spiral. Suddenly it wasn't just about the loss of my Grandmama, but the eventual loss of the little girls we are fostering and even our 12 year old lab whose predicted lifespan is ticking to a close. (Our minds and hearts can haunt us so cruelly sometimes, can't they?)

As I asked the Lord for perspective and comfort the lyrics of a recent favorite Casting Crowns song came to mind:

"He's already there."

I don't know the day or the hour or the circumstances. I don't know how my children's hearts will process these events--I can worry, but I cannot know. The certainty I can cling to, though, is this...He does.

"From where I'm standing, Lord, it's so hard for me to see where this is going and where You're leading me.
I wish I knew how all my fears and all my questions are gonna play out in a world I can't control...

Oh, when I'm lost in the mystery, to You my future is a memory 'cause You're already there.
You're already there.
Standing at the end of my life, waiting on the other side and You're already there.
You're already there.

From where You're standing, Lord, You see a grand design that You imagined when You breathed me into life.
And all the chaos comes together in Your hands like a masterpiece of Your picture perfect plan.

One day I'll stand before You and look back on the life I've lived.
I can't wait to enjoy the view and see how all the pieces fit."
-Casting Crowns, Already There

Conversations with an Alien

Several months ago a wise friend introduced me to the concept of conversations with an 'alien.' Before you run away from the computer certain I have finally lost it, hang on. She described how she imagines trying to explain certain human tendencies to someone trying to make sense of people.

For example:
Me: "My feelings are a little hurt that I wasn't invited to do such-and-such."
Alien "I didn't realize you enjoy that activity."
Me: "I don't."
Alien: "I thought you were already committed to something else at the same time."
Me: "I am."
Alien: "So, you are upset because you were not invited to participate in an activity that you don't enjoy on a date you could not have attended?"
Me: "Exactly."

You get the idea.

Honestly, we haven't really needed an alien in the last several years because having kids in the house has offered a similar perspective. Answering the probing questions of  a 6 year old trying to make sense of the world has levelled me more than once.

Now that our children are growing up and the lure of the world's version of things is getting stronger, I decided it might not be such a bad idea to invite a one-eyed green man into our home too. (Etsy, I love you!)

We made his debut recently during a conversation about 4th grade social hierarchy. I had the kids try to explain 'popular' and how/why certain people got to decide what others should think is cool.

I know it sounds silly, but I appreciate that this whimsical guy takes some of the pressure off some conversations that might otherwise feel judgmental or stressful. It gives us a non-threatening way to boil issues down to their simple roots--a 'time out' of sorts in otherwise emotional conversations to regain perspective.

And, frankly, I have found myself having a couple of perspective-rendering conversations with him too.

Just a little thing...but I like it & thought I'd pass it on.

The Tug o War of Too Much, Not Enough

I have become an accidental field researcher in tweendom in recent months. In addition to having three versions of 'almost 11 year olds' in my home, I have served as co-teacher of a 5th-6th grade girls Sunday School class since the Fall. Many of my peers are muddling through the new adventure of parenting pre-adolescents, so I hear common concerns and fears. 

Social awareness is budding. While this is a normal part of the growth process, with positive points like the death of habits like nose picking and dirty faces, there are other implications. Our children are developing opinions about haircuts, wardrobe, how photos depict them. Stories I once told freely are now carefully weighed for how they may reflect on self esteem and image. 

Little people who once burst with personality and freedom in their own skin have begun to turn in a bit in social situations. They are beginning to ask themselves: Am I approved?  Where do I fit? Am I like everyone else? I have observed two extremes in this age group: attention seeking or shrinking. Both hurt my heart a little.

As I was thinking about it this morning, I realized that some of my angst about this change is that I know it sticks around for decades in many hearts. At 2am I found my middle aged heart in the epic tug-o-war of "I am TOO much and just need to calm down a bit" and "I am not enough, so full of inadequacy. I've got to get it together."

image borrowed from CBS News.com

Suddenly, I am that twitchy tween...two extreme versions of the same self. " I am TOO (fill in the blank: hyper, expressive, flighty, passionate, radical, opinionated)... I need to be MORE (fill in the blank: organized, quiet, circumspect, thoughtful, traditional, lighthearted...)" While I understand that reading social cues and being self aware can be healthy to overall maturity and growth, when taken too far it is ineffective. An exhausting internal struggle renders me tangled, frozen and crippled. Additionally, when all of my energy is focused inwardly on how to improve myself and other people's experience with me I have become self absorbed rather than others' focused. What starts with good intentions leads to too much concern with self image. Focus on self eclipses focus on love and purpose. 

I laid awake early this morning with an exhausting dialogue rolling around in my brain: I should quiet down about this. I am making people uncomfortable. I can tell from the look on so-and-so's face when we talk, she has no idea what to do with me. I need to step it up in this role. I should be doing more in this part of my life...So-and-so serves quietly and gracefully. I can't shut up. Why did God wire me to be such a communicator? Ugh! Dial this down. Dial this up. Quiet down. Go off the grid a bit...

I realized the tug o war has pulled me into the mud. I am serving my pride not my purpose. And now more than ever, for the sake of my own heart as well as all the tweens in my life, I want to model a peace in my purpose, a humility in my attitude and a resilience in my concerns about what other people think. 

Right on cue, I opened Beth Moore's Children of the Day. "No one else can fulfill your calling. Other people can do what you have been called to do, but child of God, they can't be you doing it. That's what makes your footprint here unique." 

Now God has us where he wants us, with all the time in this world and the next to shower grace and kindness upon us in Christ Jesus. Saving is all his idea, and all his work. All we do is trust him enough to let him do it. It’s God’s gift from start to finish! We don’t play the major role. If we did, we’d probably go around bragging that we’d done the whole thing! No, we neither make nor save ourselves. God does both the making and saving. He creates each of us by Christ Jesus to join him in the work he does, the good work he has gotten ready for us to do, work we had better be doing. Ephesians 2:7-10 The Message

As insecurity and fear threaten my peace and cause me to question my equipping for this next phase, I need to hear these words. My chant should not be "I'm too much...I'm not enough" but "He is enough, I must trust."

"We don't need to look like any other human on this earth. Jesus rejoices in the version of us that loves Him with everything in us." -Beth Moore

So I am recommitting to buckling my seatbelt and getting comfortable in the story God is writing in my life, to be the woman He is sanctifying me to be, doing the work He has led me to this place to do. Empowered by Him, at peace in my skin, I will exhale the insecurity and follow Him expectantly into this week and the days to come. 

When a "Great Day" Isn't Enough

On a recent morning drive to school I asked the children what I could pray for them that day. I wish I could say this is a daily practice, but I do like to ask every once in a while to gauge their heart attitude and remind them that even when they are away they are on my mind/heart. Because they are typically developing tweens I got three versions of "I dunno. Nothing really."

Grasping at another way to ask the question I said, "Well, what if God were in our car this morning. What would you ask him?"

Not missing a beat P replied, "How did YOU get in here?"

After a chorus of giggles I tried again. "Seriously, if God were in our car. What do you think He would hope for you today? What would He say?"

K replied perkily, "He'd tell us He hoped we had a great day."

The overthinker in me gulped. Is this what I am teaching my children? That God's desire for them is just a great day? Not that there is anything wrong with that, of course, but, wow, there is SO MUCH MORE God wants for their lives and mine. Frankly, some of it doesn't mean every day will be "great."

Yes, I overanalyze. Welcome to my exhausting brain. Realizing my audience is not quite finished with 4th grade, I toned down my internal dialogue.

"I think He would say that and more. I think He would say He hoped you had a day of remembering He was with you, listening for Him in your heart, being grateful and looking for opportunities to love people."

As I drove away I couldn't help but think about the types of prayers I pray with my children and the message they send. We bless our food. We pray at the start and end of many days. We pray when we are struggling with something...but truth be told the 'script' of those prayers is still pretty simple. "Thank you for this...help us with that."

I want our relationships with Him to be real not rote.

I thought about one of my favorite parenting truths: Children are far more influenced by what is CAUGHT than what is TAUGHT. What are they catching from my prayers? A sweet God who bids them off to school with a sing-songy "have a great day?" How is a 'great day' even defined? Pleasant? Easy? Worry free?

My children are growing in body, mind, emotion...I want to make sure there are opportunities for their faith to be growing too. The point for me was that if I want my children to trust a mighty, big, powerful God I ought to step it up a notch in terms of the conversations we are having with Him through prayer. My children aren't preschoolers anymore and my prayers shouldn't be either. So, we are easing out of the shallow end in our prayers. Asking Him for bigger things. Risking more, requiring more faith.

I am writing this down for accountability to myself. God, please help my children see you as so much bigger than a sweet Grandpa whose only desire for my children is a pleasant, worry-free day. That is a great foundation--a nice place to start--but spur us on, Lord, to so much more.

Turning the Corner to Tweendom

Tonight, around our family dinner table we had a moment that reminded me how things are changing in this stage of life. Big, fat tears started rolling down a 10 year old's cheeks unexpectedly. They were not incited from a sibling insult or a parental word of correction. These tears came from a tender heart that was tired of carrying negative feelings and needed to let them out.

From eyes to cheeks and onto chin I watched the fat tears fall right onto the blue sweatshirt this kiddo was wearing.
Plop.
Plop.
Plop.

Those wet polka dots sent a warning flare to my heart: Pay attention.

Our other two children were excused from the table. As Ryland and I flanked this worried, frustrated kiddo, he talked about his concerns for several minutes. His issues were legitimate. We couldn't fix them in that sitting. So, we did the thing that's hardest for us: We just listened for a bit. We encouraged. Eventually, a smile reappeared and he hugged us both tight.

As we wrapped up I felt a bit shell shocked. It was as if we had walked through a door without realizing it. That door is called adolescence. Children who are no longer unbound by society's expectations, but instead are young people starting to notice how they stack up to others. Coming into their own identities with a bit of angst. Realizing they won't be good at everything. Making decisions about what they will work hard at and fight for. Beginning the process of self acceptance and all its frustrating truths. And taking the hearts of loving parents on a bit of an emotional roller coaster with them.

I have a lot of inadequacies as a Mom. I am impatient, prideful, a bit of a nag and a weak cook...but tonight, sitting around that table and later as a laid in the dark chatting a bit more...I knew without a shadow of a doubt I was made to be this young man's Mama. For all my faults, quirks and foibles, God put us together.

I walked next door to his sibling's room for an entirely different heart felt conversation. As I was still thinking about the tender heart next door, this one excitedly chattered about a great experience earlier in the day, how proud he felt and how he realized giving and helping made him feel like he had a purpose and his day mattered.

As I made my way to the third room I couldn't help but wonder what that heart-to-heart would hold. (I am considering adding barometers to their bedroom doors ;-)

We are turning a corner to maturity, emotion, self actualization and growing up. I have three tweens who will undoubtedly experience a range of highs and lows as they navigate this space between child and adult.

It is not my role to relive these years, but instead to lovingly support, pray and guide them through as one who has been here before and made it. It's exhilarating and exhausting and tonight there's no place else I'd rather be.