The time I cried in Starbucks

Yesterday, in one of those short windows of time where you can't do anything productive so you take the kids to Starbucks to kill time, I had a parenting moment. The kind that makes you know that you know that this is all worth it, the kind where in the midst of the daily grind, your purpose as a mom gets recalibrated and your eyes get opened to all sorts of things you'd been missing.

My daughter, who was drinking chocolate milk, and who is 11, and who this year began the dreaded zone of life called Middle School, and who almost never opens up, said the following:

daughter: Mom, there is this one girl in my math class that NObody likes. Actually people are sort of afraid of her. And she did a crazy thing which was shave off her eyebrows. (She's furrowing her brow, and I know she's asking questions by these statements, trying to make sense of this.)

me: Do you think people are afraid of her because she's different?

daughter: Yeah...and she's like, not that nice either. She can be rude.

me: Let's think of reasons why she might be so different and have that kind of attitude.

daughter: Because she isn't very loved by her parents? (I think, bingo. She gets that kids aren't this way for no reason.)

me: Yep, that could be one reason. Everybody needs to be loved and wants to be loved. That's why most people your age are trying SO HARD to be the same as everyone else. To fit in. She doesn't feel the same, she knows she doesn't fit in, and so she wants to make sure everyone knows she is different. Do kids talk about her a lot?

daughter: Yeah! (she's surprised I know this)

me: This happens in all ages, grown up girls too. It's because girls really struggle with comparing themselves with others and feeling confident in who God made them to be. It's hard when other girls gossip about kids who are different.

daughter: Yeah! And I feel weird about that...I mean, I want to do something, but I don't know what.

son, chiming in: Well do you think if you tried to be nice to her, your other friends would stop liking you?

daughter: Yeah...I'm pretty sure they would.

me: (saying nothing, because they haven't yet noticed I'm beginning to be overcome with emotion.)

And this is when I laughed at myself, because I was crying in Starbucks. Because my girl who doesn't say much and often would choose to read a book alone than be in a crowd of people, sees that different girl who shaved off her eyebrows in 6th grade. Really sees her, and feels uncomfortable by the gossip. I was in awe of her little 11-year old heart, and I knew it has been formed by God. I knew I could take no credit for this.

The kids started to look at me like I was crazy, by the way, crying in Starbucks. And so I had to go into this whole explanation. I blubbered out, "I am just so proud of you."

So many thoughts were going on in my head, and I didn't share all of them. I couldn't keep myself collected, for instance, if I unfurled my deep awareness that I know I'm NOT that girl, the one who sees the different girl. I am the one who feels awkward and afraid of extreme difference and doesn't know what to say. I'm ashamed of that. And I'm the one who, in my flesh and my ignorance, wants my daughter to be more a part of the crowd, to bond with the general populace, to engage in meaningless chit chat over the lunch table like a typical tween. But she doesn't. And I worry that she'll be standing there alone when the beehive of girls decides to buzz on to the next activity. I'm ashamed of that too, that wanting her to be different and...safer. 

And so all I could sniffle out was, "I am just so proud of you. God has given you this amazing gift of compassion! That is so rare, especially at your age. Most people are afraid of those who are different. But it is a special gift to be able to see those who are different and long to show them love! You are seeing her like Jesus does." Sniff sniff.

And then I told them about this memory.

When my daughter first went to 2-morning a week preschool, when she was 3 years old, I wanted her to connect with the other girls in class. It was her first exposure to regular socialization, after all. I wanted her to "succeed" at it. One day at drop off, I brought her a bit early. In the class, there was a large box of dress-up things to which all the other girls flocked every morning to be the first one to pull the cheap Cinderella polyester over her head. I prodded my girl to join in; after all, she loved dressing up at home. But she would not go join in. She stood still. Alone. Staring. I felt increasingly uncomfortable,  projecting that onto my 3 year old, so I prodded more, my anxiety rising that she wouldn't be a part of the princess crowd.

But little did I know she was taking everything in. Most of the class was little girls, currently fighting over the plastic click-clack shoes, but my daughter was seeing the one blond haired boy, off to the side looking unsure and afraid. After a time, she walked straight to the dress up box, grabbed a cowboy hat, walked over to the boy, and extended it to him without saying a word.

I will never forget that. No one saw that boy but she. No one felt inclined to include him or take notice of him. While all the other girls were living examples of the survival of the fittest concept, my girl showed mercy to the one on the outskirts. And still, to this day, I can hardly wrap my mind around her actions because I am not that girl. She is. And seeing it again, yesterday, made me weep.

Because I'm not that girl, and I don't have her gift, I couldn't offer much advice on how to reach out to the eyebrow-less girl in math class. But I could offer her the Wonderful Counselor. I said:

me: Ya know, God knows whether or not you should reach out to her. I don't know if you are supposed to, but it seems He's put the desire and a lot of compassion in your heart for her. So if I were you, I'd pray and ask Him for an opportunity to talk to her if He wants you to. And if He doesn't want to use you in that way, maybe that chance will never come up. But I DO know this. You can't base your choice on what your other friends may think of you. If they did stop being your friend, then you don't want that kind of friend. And there is a possibility that they may even learn from you. What if your other friends thought, "Wow. I wish I was brave like that." What if they admire you for it, and what if they feel encouraged to be more loving to others too? At least your Christian friends will hopefully understand.

Hopefully. Why is this so hard? This loving those on the outskirts? Why does it involve so much fear and strategizing? The only answer I can come up with is sin. We are all broken and can barely love the lovable well, much less those who are hard to love. As I've said, this stuff is hard for me, a grown up. I can't imagine how hard loving the unlovable is for the typical, crazy-insecure, still-developing middle schooler. But Jesus makes all things possible, and I truly believe that. Seriously, WHAT would we do without Him? He raises up His people to see the injured ones on the outskirts, to love them and embrace them like He does. My daughter may be called to be His hands and feet to the girl in math class. That is no small deal.

I hope this story isn't over. I hope there will be a Part 2. But if not, the conversation between my kids and I was an epic one. Perhaps the most valuable take away is that I learned more about my daughter's heart, her gift of seeing the unseen. I am aware that God in His grace is humbling me, weaning me off of wishing she'd be more engaged with the princess crowd. God in His grace is reminding me I have a lot to learn from my kids. And God in His grace is reminding me that my kids are His. He has knit them together. He has gifted them for purposes I cannot fathom. That goes for the Cinderellas, the odd girls in math class, and everyone in between.

Would I trade that divine handiwork knit into my girl just so she might be a look-alike with some other type of kid, might have more friends, or be more accepted?

Never in a million years. God knows what He's doing in my kids' lives. And I hope, desperately, that as a mother, I don't stand in His way.

On leaving, without kids

 

Two days ago, I had a mother bear moment.

Now, this is Montana so the likelihood of actually seeing a bear is pretty high. But that's not what I meant.

I mean I was the mother bear and these crazy intense bear-like instincts kicked in because I thought my kids were in danger. Here's how it went down. The grocery store is blocks from our house. I needed like 5 quick things. The kids did not want to go with me. My oldest is almost 12, and said, "Can't we just stay home?" I said, "Um. Okay. Let's try that," knowing she doesn't have a phone, we don't have a land line, and this was a smallish risk. However she does have an iPod Touch, so she can text me.

I sped to the grocery store, and probably ten minutes into my shopping, I received this text, verbatim:

"Mommy com home!"

Exclamation point. Hm. Pushing down all the reasons why panic seemed appropriate, I replied, "Why?" And after the longest ten seconds of my life seeing no reply back, I abandoned my cart next to the asparagus and my fast walk quickly became a jog to my car.

First of all, my nearly 12 year old never calls me Mommy anymore, so I thought something sounded wrong. Second of all, under normal circumstances, she can spell the word, "come" so I wondered if she was in a rush as she texted. Was the house burning down? Was someone badly hurt? Why wasn't she replying??

My heart raced. My brain flooded with emotion and adrenaline, so much so that I was aware I couldn't process what was happening very clearly. I watched my speedometer steadily rise on the straightaway between the store and our neighborhood and barely halted the car long enough to fling the door open and sprint in the house.

I heard my own strained voice yell for my daughter, and her response was flat and teen-like: "What do you mean? I didn't text you." Then suddenly, my little guy was standing near me, looking sheepish and small. I started, "Did you take her iPod and text me? Is there an emergency?!" My intensity was starting to mingle with the variety of mommy anger that goes something like, "If you're not really in danger or badly injured, I'm gonna kill you!"

He quietly replied, "I just really missed you."

Now let's skip over the fact that I'd been gone ten minutes. The fact that I'd broken a handful of traffic laws to get home to save some lives. The fact that my kids are old enough to stay home alone for twenty minutes. And let's instead settle on just one simple fact that outweighs all the others by a mile: I am a mommy, and because of that, I mean the world to someone. Two little someones, actually. And we're talking about the literal world.

I am nearly their entire world.

Tomorrow I leave for four sleeps as I head to Hope Spoken in Texas. And as much as I want and, more importantly need, time off from my family for fellowship and friendship and ministry, it is always so hard to leave my babies. They're already 8 and 11, and still I know I will ache to be away from them. And they will ache too. We did extra big hugs and I sprinkled extra kisses on their faces at bedtime. I said, "You can call me whenever you want!" And I left paper X's and O's on their bathroom mirror, one set for each night I'm away.

We will miss each other and God willing, our reunion on Sunday at the airport will be full of joy-filled squeals.

This all boils down to two main points.

First of all, no matter what ministry opportunities God brings into my life, motherhood is my first and greatest mission field.

And secondly. My daughter may be getting that cell phone sooner than I planned.

Grace on a Thursday: I sort of want robots

Motherhood is so weird. I've never come close to experiencing anything else like it.

Being an employee means your job is to manage something for a fixed amount of time.

Being a zoo keeper or a botanist means your job is to nurture something for a fixed amount of time.

But being a mother means your job is to BOTH manage and nurture something for a fixed amount of time. If you can think of something else in life that requires both of those things simultaneously, please tell me.

I don't think it exists; motherhood is unique. I have a set number of years to manage a wily, unreasonable, rebellious, and doggedly independent human at the same time as trying to nurture him or her into an incredible, educated, humble, loving, and powerful force to be reckoned with in the world.

I am at my wit's end this week trying to reconcile the fact that at times, I sincerely wish my children were robots, since that would make the managing part so much easier. Just think how much easier it would be if children were no longer unpredictable and wild? No more rock-throwing, street-running, grocery aisle-screaming, food-dumping craziness. AND at the same exact time, I whole-heartedly want my kids to grow up to be beautifully unique world-changers. Just think how wonderful it would be to raise free-thinking, truth-speaking, love-giving, light-shining citizens of Earth. And I just flat out don't know how to do both at once - how to manage the one, and nurture the other. (If you're thinking as your little kids get older, the wildness goes away, you're totally mistaken. The wildness just changes into different forms of things that make me crazy).

I simply don't know how to nurture amazingness when much of my time and energy is spent on managing the messes, the homework, the laundry, and the feeding of these tiny humans. And when I stop for stretches of time to focus on the nurturing, then the managing just doesn't happen. I get that that's okay from time to time. But personally, I can become discouraged because I can't ever do both well at once. If I'm doing one job well, the other is suffering.

As if the above wasn't daunting enough, a child's needs are always changing. When you have tiny babies, the scales are dipped more on the managing side. As they age, they start to be able to manage themselves in more and more ways, but the scales tip further on the nurturing side. As my oldest is nearing age 12, I keep reflecting that I'm almost out of time. She's almost ready to drive away to a friend's house or Starbucks every day after school. She announced yesterday, from the top of the staircase, "Mom! In ten years from now, I'll be graduating from college." Ten years. Shorter than her life lived already. God knows my deepest fear is that I've spent too much time on the managing end of the spectrum and missed opportunities to nurture her into an awesome human.

Several years ago in MOPS, we took personality tests. I don't remember how we were categorized, but I think it was by color. Let's just say I turned out to be a Yellow. Whatever it was, the leader of this activity went about summarizing each color's strengths and weaknesses. When she got to mine - and I'll never forget this - she said, "And if you're a Yellow, motherhood will be the hardest for you." I can't tell you the number of times I've wished I'd never heard that. I've had to fight off and push down that label, that weight around me which shouts, "Because of your personality, you'll have a harder time succeeding at being a good mom." The implication was that I'd have a difficult time moving from the managing job to the nurturing job. Ugh, and guess what? I didn't need a test to tell me that.

This post doesn't have a tidy moral. When it comes down to the hundred daily decisions I have to make as a mom, I am not confident I know the recipe for awesomeness. Some ingredients, yes, I know quite well. But the majority of my mothering decisions range anywhere from educated guesses to exhausted concessions. And I suppose the only reason I'm saying any of this is to let you know I'm there too, if you are, and am in desperate need of grace.

Grace is the only salve for me when I feel stuck as a mom. Grace washes me off when I feel covered in Yellow. It's favor from the Lord that I can't earn and don't deserve. He just gives it because He loves me, and He fills in my gaps. The kids are His anyway, and I am not so powerful that He will let me completely mess them up.

Best of all, Grace whispers, "You don't need to make your kids become amazing people; they already are, because I've created them to be. Nothing you will ever do can remove my fingerprints from them. And trust me; you don't really want robots."

Well, I'll tell you one thing. If I come out on the other side of motherhood alive, then I do feel I will have earned at least a house-cleaning robot. Or something.


(After more than a year of a break from this Thursday series, I wanted to pick it back up. I'm missing my reflections on grace. We will never fully grasp the depths of what grace can do in our lives. But that doesn't mean I won't press in my whole life long to try to find out.)

Much love,
      

BTS Series, lesson 6

I've thought a lot about prayer these last few years. I've written about it too. I guest-posted on Casey's blog last fall with many of my thoughts and changed beliefs regarding prayer. If you missed it, maybe read that first, because it gives a context for this post.

I used to be the type to sit before God and literally rattle off a laundry list of prayers. On occasion, I'm still tempted to fall back into that habit of presenting my agenda to God, my will, my ideas for how my life and the lives of those around me should run. I'm tempted to ask Him to sign on the bottom line of my plans and give the green light for all my amazing solutions.

But for the most part, I don't pray like that anymore. So this post is not going to be a list of topics to pray through for your children while they're in school. That would have been the easy thing for me to write. Frankly, that's what I want to write. And that would have been the easy thing for you to do. We both could have checked something simple off our lists for the day.

The problem is that we would both then miss out on the most important aspect of prayer: relationship with our Father. Sometimes we can reduce prayer to talking at God. That's not relationship. A good, healthy one is two-directional. And in our best relationships, we do more listening that talking.

Now it's getting daunting, I know. Listening before God, rather than the rattling-off, is hard. It takes discipline and quiet. Those are two things I don't often have, or rather, I don't often choose. But my challenge for you, in this very last Back To School Lesson, is to sit before God and LISTEN to Him during your prayer time regarding your kids.

He will speak to your heart, you know. He loves your kids more than you do, and He knows them even better. He knows what they fear, what they feel insecure about, what they need and when they need it. Doesn't that motivate you to ask Him how you can help parent these little guys? A prayer of mine for my kids may go something like this:

God, you already know my heart is full of concerns and wishes for my kids. I don't need to tell you those. But I do need your wisdom on where my kids are at right now. What are the issues I need to address? What are you working on in them? What do they need from me right now? Speak, Lord, I'm listening.....

(And then I'd be quiet, with no deadline, and focus on one child at a time, being aware of things that God sort of pops into my head, or feelings He brings to my heart about this thing or that. Sometimes, at first, I picture a blank slate to clear out my own mind's clutter. Sometimes, I ask him to calm my mind and heart first. Sometimes, I ask him to put aside His still, small voice and SHOUT to me what I need to hear if I feel distracted or confused. It takes discipline and practice. And it gets easier.)

There have been times - many times - when I open myself up to the Holy Spirit in this way that I feel convicted for a misspoken word, or hurtful attitude towards my kids and know I need to apologize. There have been a couple rare times when I've felt the Lord speak about my child's distant future, a prophecy, I guess, about His plans for them. But most of the time, He meets me in the middle of the day's events and problems. He equips me to meet their needs, and maybe most importantly, He gives me a refreshed love and compassion for my kids, even when one is about to make me lose my mind.

I long to go before God with open ears when I face the fact that I don't know how to pray for them. I don't really know with whom they should be friends. I don't really know which teachers are best for them. I don't know how God will use the events of this school year to grow and shape them into the people He wants them to be. And I desperately need His input on all these matters.

I wish there was a formula for praying for our kids, I do. I love formulas and lists and checking things off. But there's not. Powerful prayer requires faith, and faith means believing that God's will is the very marrow of abundant life, even when the circumstances themselves can look like a train wreck. A former pastor used to speak of prayer requiring a "double-fisted" faith. In one hand, you pray with a firm grasp on belief that god hears all our prayers, all our ideas and solutions and feelings, but if His will is something completely different from what we want, in the other hand, you grip onto the truth that He is good and worthy of our trust, no matter what.

The visual of having double-fisted faith reminds me of a boxer, standing tense and ready to defend and protect. That's what we do as parents, isn't it? But the boxing ring is our space for prayer, and our heads are bowed and our hearts are brave.

I've loved doing this series with you guys. Thanks for reading. May God lead you with wisdom in your mothering this school year, and may you lead your kids with double-fisted faith.  

BTS series, Lesson 5

The kids have been in school for about a month now, right?  They've adjusted to the new routine. You've adjusted to the new routine. The dog has started waking up early on Saturday mornings again, thinking it's just another weekday...or is that just mine?

It has only taken a month, but everyone has already established his or her opinions on the friends, teachers, homework and lunch menus the fall season has delivered. With my kids, I've found that each year unfolds differently than the last, and the dynamics of each classroom is totally unique. Most years have been amazing. A few have been woven with struggle. None have been perfect, that's for sure.

A handful of years ago was one that started off rocky; my child's teacher, I think, was suffering from some sudden changes in the district and in the administration that were making her job much more difficult. And she was bringing that stress and a lot of negativity into her classroom. She was continually complaining, and was also emotionally reactive when things or people weren't living up to her expectations. Upon my first few interactions with her, I was tempted to panic, go into protection mode, and be that "advocate" for my child. But parenting is not my only responsibility. I realized I have a responsibility also as a follower of Jesus to see my kids' teachers as not only servants of the school and of my child, but also as women (or men). Before they are teachers, they are first human beings who have flaws and carry stress and endure painful seasons, just like I do.

That year, I shared with my cousin who is four years ahead of me in parenting, the concerning things I observed with the negative teacher. She had a quick and lovely solution. I've written about this before (last fall, I think) so I apologize if this is old news to you. Finding herself in the same shoes in the past, my cousin decided to write an encouraging note to the troublesome teacher weekly. I was somewhat resistant, at first, to adopt this strategy; I couldn't think of anything nice to say to that teacher. But somehow, I knew that was exactly what I was supposed to do and, more importantly, exactly who I am supposed to be.

I committed to writing this woman an encouraging note once a week. And I committed to myself that I would only write things I could firmly stand behind. No false flattery, no fluff. For example:

"Dear _______,
I just wanted to send a note to say thank you for all your efforts. It must be incredibly challenging to start a new year with so many little ones to care for. My (son/daughter) really enjoyed the Dr. Seuss craft and is clearly improving in math already. He/she is having fun, and I'm looking forward to seeing how much he/she grows this year. Please let me know if there is anything I can do to help. Wednesday mornings are a good time for me.
With gratitude,
Leslie Padgett, _______'s mom"

Oftentimes, when I couldn't say many complimentary things about her as a teacher, I stuck to statements of empathy and focused the attention on my child and his/her feelings about the class. Once, I left the note with a latte. Sometimes when I made muffins, I'd bring her a few to snack on during breaks. What if - I mean, really think about it - what if my words were the only positive, encouraging ones she heard all day? What if there were really far more difficult circumstances in her life, ones about which I knew nothing, taking place? What if this woman just needed a little grace and a muffin to get her through another day? She is in charge of my child, for heaven's sake. The least I can do is support her, no matter how I feel about her personality.      

I will never know if it changed the teacher's, but my cousin's simple suggestion totally changed MY heart. That teacher and I grew to have an excellent working relationship by Christmas. I think she even considered me a friend, and I saw her soften a lot to her own job conditions. In fact, I began to believe in the note-writing so much that my own gratitude for these important characters in my children's lives just grew and grew. What started as a strategy to cope with a difficult teacher has become a loved habit for me. Every year now, with every teacher, I write notes and bake muffins and offer my help. I think it's safe to assume that for every bit of encouragement I can offer, they get ten negative and critical bits from other parents. I don't want to be those other parents. I want to love on the people to whom I'm entrusting my precious children.

I'm not EVER entitled to a perfect schooling environment for my child. (Let's face it: even if I were in complete control, let's say homeschooling them, the environment would still never be perfect for them, because I'm not perfect.) However, I'm required to parent my children through all circumstances and love everyone involved, as far as it depends on me.

So my take home message is this. It's time; we're one month into this deal. Love on your kids' teachers and school staff. Particularly if you don't like them. Even the grouchy receptionist. Seriously. And if you don't have words of encouragement yet, buy him/her a coffee. Bake some muffins. They have charge of your child; and the more we can do to build partnerships with teachers and staff instead of just complaining about the problems, the better the whole learning experience will be for our kids. I really believe that. And more than that, I really believe that people need grace, a generous, loving dose of unmerited favor. That's what God gives us and tells us to pass on to those around us. They will know we are Christians by our love.

It takes discernment - a lot - to know when to step in and advocate for your child when a serious problem is at hand. But I know you know, in your gut, when that is.

Most of the time, muffins may as well be peace treaties.

BTS Series, Lesson 4

I hate to tell you this, but I literally just emailed my son's teacher letting her know we could not complete the Star of the Week poster that's due tomorrow and I blame moving.

I blame moving not only for my total lack of photos, which are supposed to be plastered all over the poster and which are still packed away, but also for my scatterbrain because I could have realized this a few days ago, in time enough to print more at Costco. But I didn't. And I'm human. A human who just moved.

Here's why I hate to confess what I just did. Because when I was a student, I never missed an assignment. I completed them with extra designs and decorations in the margins and spent hours coloring in bubble lettering. I was born to be an overachiever, not because I felt I had to be, but because I really loved school. And school loved me back, meaning I now realize what validation and worth I gathered into my arms school year after school year because I did well.

So I may or may not have carried a bit of this overachiever-ness into my mothering once my own kids started elementary school. Naturally, I thought the responsible thing to do was train them early to cross every "t" and dot every "i." Complete all your assignments with your best effort, your best handwriting, and maybe add bubble lettering. Just kidding. I mean, it would have been nice though.

My intentions sounded good, in theory. It sounded like I was teaching good habits, I was teaching them how to be good students. BUT. I was forgetting the more important matter: they are small children, and I need to be their mother first.

Suddenly (why do all these BTS posts come to this point...where I realize I'm doing it all wrong!) I had a third grade girl who was spending MULTIPLE HOURS on her homework each night. I had been trying so hard to train her to be responsible that I lost touch with common sense. I don't remember what exactly hit me upside the head. But I had a sort of epiphany.

I am her teacher before anyone else. As her mother, I'm the authority who is ultimately in charge of her education, whether or not I'm physically sending her to school outside my home. It's still my job to regulate, monitor, and decide what kind of life I'm providing for my child. And if I AM deciding to send her to school outside my care, then I sure as heck better be on top of those people to whom I'm entrusting her.

Now, I didn't become THAT mom. You know, the overbearing mother who can't ever give a teacher a break and who thinks her child is the Queen of Sheba. Gross. But I did start to decide what homework my daughter really needed to do. I certainly decided to try to provide a more balanced lifestyle for my girl. I wanted her involved in cooking with me before dinner, she played a sport that was important to her emotional and physical health, and I wanted her to be a kid, to have at least a little time to play with her brother. All her after-school time could NOT be filled with more school work in order for her to be a well-rounded person. Does it seem crazy that I had to be intentional about providing time for a child to play? I think so. I can't believe it took me a while to notice, but I'm telling you, it had gotten THAT bad.

Do you see how I was passively handing off authority over my child's life to people who do not probably love her? I'm sure I've just stated many a mother's reason for choosing homeschooling. But I do believe I can remain my child's primary teacher and still send my kids to school. I know there are several good alternatives to public school, but whenever we've considered a change, God has always led us back to it for our family.

So when I took my child's life back into my own hands, first I doubled my efforts to understand what she needed more work on, and what she had already mastered. If the teacher assigned 20 math problems in something she'd totally mastered, I wrote the teacher a kind note saying that my daughter had done enough school work for the day and had proven to me that she'd mastered the concept. If she needed a little practice, I'd reassign her just the even numbers, and then check them.

Once, she was required to type an essay in fourth grade. The school was clear on their policy that they would not teach typing and the children would have to learn independently. I overruled that requirement and said she'd be turning in a neatly handwritten copy because I would not have her practicing how to type the WRONG way just for this assignment. Other times that year, I typed a few papers for her that she'd dictate from her written draft, since the grade was always for her writing, not her typing, and I was pretty sure nine year-olds didn't need to be spending an hour typing when they didn't know how. I never once got a complaint back, and my daughter never once got a consequence for incomplete work. If she had, then I would have taken up her case with the teacher myself in person. Because I am my daughter's authority.

The whole thing reminds me of being in labor for the first time. I was terrified during my first delivery, so whatever the nurses told me to do, and whatever the doctors ordered for me, I consented. I have regrets about not being my own body's authority. It's a horrible feeling to be pressured into choices that you would not freely choose, were circumstances different.

I did not want the life for my daughter that I felt so pressured into giving her. Thankfully, I got the gumption up to make changes, because no one else would have. I'm not only the authority on my kids, but I am their first and best advocate. You know your child's needs better than anyone else. At some point, you'll have to fight to protect them. Here's permission to do so.

My girl has just started middle school this year. I am not sure how things will change. It is all new to us both. I still have the urge to suggest bubble lettering on reports and for goodness sakes, at least write in cursive (she won't). She is not me, and her brain works entirely differently than mine did and does. She is an excellent student, in her own way and of her own right. I've learned that too, to let her develop into her own version of a student. My heart sort of broke in half the couple times over the years when she's said she doesn't like school. But after a few deep breaths, I embraced her individuality.

Trust me when I say that until she is old enough to defend her own needs, until she can choose what a "balanced" life means for her, I will be the one who stands in the gap as the best authority on her life, and her first advocate. It's just my job. And I wouldn't trade it for anything.

BTS Series, Lesson 3

 

Funny how I planned to write this post tonight on kids and emotions, and coincidentally, both my kids were sad and/or crying when I picked them up at school today. Never a good sign.

I take that back. Maybe it is a good sign. Maybe part of the reason my kids were able to express their emotions today is because they know I'm a safe place to dump that stuff. I can't be certain. But I am trying to cultivate a family culture where emotions are embraced and never wrong. How one reacts to them and manages them may very well be wrong, but emotions themselves deserve respect.

You may not agree with me here. But I am of the belief that God created us - ALL of us - as emotional beings. We are meant to feel things, and our feelings are meant to be like indicator lights on a dashboard. They tell us if there is a problem. They tell us when we're out of fuel. They tell us all kinds of information about the health of a vehicle. And so the indicators themselves are never bad or wrong; they just give information. Our reactions to those signals are what can be unhealthy or inappropriate. People who are unable to feel, who have shut down their hearts due to injury, like cars with broken indicator lights, are not functioning as they were meant to. People who choose to numb their emotions are in a similar state of dysfunction; it's the same as driving a car that has all sorts of warning lights flashing and just plastering some duct tape over them.

Something else that keeps our hearts from running smoothly is shame. Many of us have shame connected with our feelings. Have you ever been told any of these?

You shouldn't feel that way.
It's ridiculous for you to feel that way.
Don't be mad.
Don't get so upset.
You're overreacting.
Don't be childish. 
Suck it up.
Toughen up.
Big girls don't cry.

Probably all of us have, at some point. We feel shame when we are told our feelings are not okay or aren't acceptable. Now here's the tricky part. In order to help our kids get an A in Emotion 101, we need to be getting an A ourselves. We need to be comfortable with our own feelings - all of them - in order to accept our children's. For some of us that is a pretty tall order. The shame gets in the way.

Lucky for you, I've become sort of an expert on shame. Can I quickly share a book that really helped me understand why God made me the way that I am? Feminine, emotional, tender? And that God patterned my emotional heart after His own? It's called Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul. It changed me. I think every woman should read it.

Once I got a grip on embracing and respecting my feelings (because I knew God did), I started trying my hardest to validate those of my kids. It's something of which I'm conscious all the time in my mothering. And respecting their feelings is not always easy, because kids don't have the maturity to express their feelings in a very clear or controlled manner, obviously. I mean, many 40 year olds can't do it. Certainly it's way more difficult for my pre-teen daughter to manage hers.

If you've not worked much with your kids' feelings, step one is giving the emotions names. Kids do not know how they feel and they need us to teach them. Even though the result is nearly always crying, you'll be really good at guessing the actual emotion that's causing the tears, especially when they're little. The main emotions we always always always come across and refer to are these:

mad/angry
frustrated
disappointed
sad
scared

Disappointment is a big one. Life is full of disappointments, and kids need to be able to (eventually) cope with small setbacks. The ice cream store being out of her favorite flavor, or a special blankie getting left at grandma's can send a little one into a meltdown. Calmly naming this feeling and showing empathy helps so much. They need to know it's okay for them to feel disappointed (if expressing it in an acceptable way, of course) and that we all deal with disappointment regularly.

Some people think that addressing or even recognizing a child's emotion will just cause him or her to carry on longer. Let's just admit that we are afraid of their emotions; it's understandable since kids are crazy, uncontainable, and unpredictable beings half the time. But honestly, validating their little hearts is actually what HELPS them get the emotion under control. Think about it; at least for me, when someone doesn't respect my feelings, I am only motivated to amp it up and keep expressing it. When I feel heard and understood, then I can much more quickly calm down.

These are other feelings we've dealt with and named, but less often:

nervous
shy
jealous
embarrassed
overwhelmed
annoyed

In my experience, I spent a few years naming their feelings for them, and now they are old enough to not only identify them, but express them to me also. For instance, at two and three and four, my son would just cry or yell when he couldn't fit his Legos together just so. I told him, "Wow! You are really frustrated. Would you like some help?" Now, he just growls, "Ughhhh! I'm so frustrated!!" Or this past weekend, as I got on his case for not cleaning his room, he exclaimed, "I'm just really overwhelmed and you know I can't work when I'm overwhelmed!" It was cute because he's only 8. But I could completely relate; it's hard for me to be productive when I'm overwhelmed too. And I was so glad he could tell me how he felt, because I clearly needed to change my parenting course.

My daughter, on the other hand, has a very deep soul, but struggles to find the words to express herself. It's just her personality. So when I can see she's upset or having a hard time, I find a private space for us to chat and ask her to tell me two feeling words. Then I wait very patiently for her to find them. Sometimes it takes a long time. Sometimes, I give her a list (choose Soul Word List, then amend for kids) from which to choose, so she can remember the names of feelings. Starting a conversation with feeling words tells her that no matter how she feels, it's acceptable, I can take it, and I'm really interested in hearing her heart.

And lastly, I share my feelings with them. I don't want to be seen simply as a chef/maid/chauffeur to my kids. I want them to understand I'm a person with feelings too. That I get hurt when someone says something mean. That I feel nervous when I'm meeting new people. That I feel jealous when a friend gets to do something I wish I could do. That I feel annoyed when someone shoots a Nerf dart at my face. I tell them these kinds of things regularly, naming my feelings, and modeling (most of the time!) self-controlled reactions.

It really touched me the other day when I announced I was going to dinner with a friend for the first time since we've been in Montana. As I was leaving, my son said, "Tomorrow I want to hear all about it!" I thought, "Wow, I'm not just a servant to him. I'm a person who may or may not have a fun time, who may have ideas and feelings to share, who is valuable to him." It was a great reminder: when you show interest in the feelings of another, they feel valuable and loved.

I hope we can help our kids feel valuable and loved this school year; they will certainly have many, many feelings about it all.

BTS Series, Lesson 2

 

Sometimes I feel like sending my kids back to school is the equivalent of throwing them to the wolves.

Suddenly they are out of my care, my protection. I feel this most right after summer, when I've been constantly able to monitor them. Our days have felt safe and controlled.

It's tempting to let a number of fears creep in as a new school season begins. The 'wolves' on the schoolyard never seem far enough away. Naturally I want to protect my kids from negative things like bullying, exposure to foul or inappropriate language, and the kinds of things to which my child may be introduced through another child. But I also feel a reactive instinct to shield them from other negative experiences that school may bring, things like failure, rejection, and conflict with others.

My mama HEART wants my children to be constantly happy. It wants my children to be insulated from all forms of discomfort and injury. At the same time, my mothering BRAIN knows that kind of insulation is not only impossible, but also would not allow my children to grow into healthy, capable adults.

So I have this constant battle within. I think it's obvious God wired us with this inner conflict for a reason. Many good reasons. We are to provide protection for our kids in many ways, but also we are to ensure a supportive environment for helping them learn to cope with the harder stuff of life. And in my experience, every mother has one of these sides of herself winning more often that the other, and that can be a bad thing. Letting our protection instincts consistently win means we can become overly sheltering, rescuing our kids from discomforts of life that they need in order to mature.

It's a fine line, and it's hard to know when to step in and rescue our kids. It's hard to know at what age a child should be encouraged to handle one thing or another. And sometimes we have no choice. An unexpected tragedy could expose a child to pain for which they are in no way prepared or able to manage. Even on my best mothering days, I can't keep all the variables under my control. Does that thought alone send a little shiver through your mama heart? It does mine.

My daughter had a lot of very typical little girl conflict with other little girls in her class when she was 6 and 7. She was alone a lot at recess. She couldn't quite find a loyal friend (because how many loyal 6 year olds do you know?). Those years, she wandered around, felt lonely, and withdrew. It was so hard for me to watch. I tried conspiring with other moms to help her connect. Playdates came and went. But I grew to understand that much of the situation hinged on my girl and her personality; I could try to teach her how to be a friend, but I couldn't change the way she was wired, and I couldn't insulate her from the discomfort that came from how that impacted her school relationships.

I could, however, provide comfort. To be comforted is one of the most important needs our children have. We spend so much time worrying about how to protect them that I feel we miss out on the more important matter: generously comforting them when something goes wrong. And eventually, things will go wrong. You know it to be true. When a situation really goes south for one of my kids, personally I can get overwhelmed with my own feelings of anxiety and confusion, watching my son or daughter suffer. I forget that in those times, what they need most is not a rescuer; they need a brave and tender comforter. They need empathy. They need me to tell them that hurt is normal and some lessons come hard.

"Insults have broken my heart,
and I am in despair.
I waited for sympathy,
but there was none;
for comforters, but found no one."
Psalm 69:20

We know a couple of marriage counselors from our CA church, authors and speakers in their field, who report that only 1 in 10 adults can recall a difficult time in their childhood where they were comforted by a parent. 1 in 10. That is a scary statistic, in my books. We are all at risk of being parents who focus more on rescuing from pain and less on comforting through it. Thankfully, the Bible gives us some guidance on the matter.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.
2 Corinthians 1:3-5

God is actually teaching us how to be comforters whenever we ourselves are comforted by Him. Jesus is the best parent ever and this is what He says to his son Simon Peter in Luke 22:

“Simon, Simon, behold, Satan demanded to have you, that he might sift you like wheat, but I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned again, strengthen your brothers.”

My mama heart races with anxiety at this passage. Jesus - again, the best parent ever - is not even glancing in the direction of rescuing Peter from Satan's assault. Could you say that to your child? Because if I'm all powerful, I'm thinking I'd say, "Hey, Satan wants to throw you down, but I had my three best angels kick his ass!" Yes I just wrote that. I'd make a really bad Jesus. I mean, how do YOU feel when your kid gets pushed down at the park? I know how. You think of all the acceptable ways you could regulate on that other evil child who dares lay a hand on your precious baby.

Instead, Jesus does not rescue. He offers encouragement. Comfort. And guidance for Peter's future. Right after this scene, Peter betrays Jesus three times and endures what was likely one of the most painful failures of his life. Jesus knew that was coming! And I can guarantee it was incredibly difficult for Him to watch his son suffer so much. We'll never know how this series of events impacted Peter's ministry. But the Bible gives us a good glimpse of what a powerful witness for the gospel he became.

Though my mama heart feels panicked at the thought of stopping myself from rescuing, my mama brain understands. Kids need to grow into healthy adults. And it will take a lot more than eating vegetables to get them there.

Insulation is best left for coats. In a Montana winter, I hear the ones filled with down are best. But we simply can't insulate our kids from all pain and suffering. If you are following Jesus day by day, you'll know when to step in and take action. The Holy Spirit will give you the sense that you should do some rescuing, make a change, or hold someone accountable for his or her actions. But that decision will not and should not be driven by fear. It should be driven by Jesus. He knows how best to parent our kids, and really, we can't make wise decisions in parenting without hearing from Him first.

I'll sign off with the prayer that's in my heart right now:

Lord, help me to stop myself from being a fear-driven parent. Help me to trust you more, to make wise choices in my mothering, and to be more of a Jesus-driven parent. Help me to seek your counsel every day. And remind me to comfort my children when their hearts are broken with the comfort you've shown me. Thank you so much for being the best parent ever, a perfect model for me to imitate. And thank you for making me brave. Amen.



{footnote: I didn't learn how to truly comfort my children until I read this book. Before that, I think I was not only afraid of them having negative experiences, I was afraid of them having negative feelings too. So I marginalized their feelings, said silly things like "Everything will be fine," and didn't truly hear their broken hearts for a few years. Giving comfort is not putting a band-aid of happy words on a wound. It's looking directly at the wound, validating how much it hurts, and not asking it to heal any faster than it needs to.}

BTS Series, Lesson 1

So we're back at it, sending our kids to school. 

Be it public, private, charter, co-op, part-time, virtually ANYTHING besides shutting them in their rooms all day long, we are exposing them to the outside world.

And this world - this horribly broken world in which we live - presses in on us. If our kids are compared to balls of clay, then many things can leave an impression. The question I have today is this: How can we, as mothers, leave the strongest and most influential one?

Well, I don't have ALL the answers, and I'm sure innumerable books have been written on the subject. But I thought I'd share some strategies I've come up with to maintain my relationships with my children when they are no longer around me most hours of the day.

I'll start with a little background. Last year sometime, things got a little crazy. I gradually lost sight of my real job as a mother, and instead tried to perfect my less important jobs of time manager, homework supervisor, activities director...you get my drift. This happens as your kids get older, I've noticed. I suddenly realized that the main two windows of time I had to spend exclusively with my kids during the week, the morning shift and the after school shift, had been reduced to me barking orders and getting frustrated if my small people didn't act like robots completing their responsibilities.

I hated that realization.

And I knew I needed my precious few hours with them per day to be very different. Now, here are some ways I approach those two windows in an effort to maintain my influential ground.

1. Before school time stays positive.

First of all, I am not a morning person; I don't feel much like talking to anyone, eating anything, or investing in relationships anytime before 9 a.m. But the reality is that I have to engage with, provide for, and encourage my two small people starting at 6:30. I wasn't doing it very well before. Now I am. And I've learned that I, maybe more than some moms, have to exert a lot of effort to be a good mom in the early hours of the day. I force a happier tone of voice. I ask questions nicely about how prepared they are and what kind of cereal they want. I try to make sure I've given them some physical affection too. Then in the car, we listen to worship music, talk, or tell funny, made up stories about their stuffed animals on the way to school. None of it is what I FEEL like doing. I promise. But this short window is the launching point of their hours without me. They then get sent out into the battlefield of childhood. That day, they may feel small, or unseen, or they may get laughed at for something they say. They may fail a test or make a bad choice. They may get their hearts broken. But before they walk out MY door, I want to leave a strong and positive impression so they know I'm on their side. I know them. I'm a safe, accepting place. It's really so hard for me to do in the morning before my brain is even awake, but I work hard at it now. Maybe all this morning business is natural for you. But for me, it takes work.

And do I even need to say that some days, all this fails and some people are crying? I didn't think so. Life is messy, and grace is important. Especially for yourself as a mom.

2. After school time includes connecting.

During the season when I realized I was losing influential ground, when I realized being AROUND them was not the same as being connected WITH them, I noticed our nightly reading-together time had been squeezed out by classroom demands that the kids read every night independently. And I was getting too tired from the days activities to muster up the energy for it anyways. That's when we started what I called Padgett Book Club. As soon as they came home from school, my focus was turned toward them. Instead of me rushing them to the table to complete a pile of homework, they got a mental break. I showed interest in being with them, not necessarily peppering them with questions about the day, but I stated up front that any questions or problems they encountered at school would certainly take precedence. We made a snack together, and then I read aloud to them while they ate it. By the way, this tradition is continuing, and my kids are 8 and 11. They still love it.

One reason I chose to make this happen was because I was getting a little too used to my time off from mothering. This didn't happen for me until they were both in full-day elementary school. The big chunk of time off allowed me to get more involved in projects or activities of my own that I had a hard time pulling away from once they got home. Again, they would come home from school, but my mind would be on the thing I had just gotten interrupted doing when I had to go pick them up. It could have been a fine thing...cleaning or folding or grocery shopping. Maybe a very legitimate job of mine. Or maybe just an overly ambitious craft. The activity didn't matter though. It was more about where my head was. I had to reconsider which jobs were my priorities, and which ones were the true interruptions? Are my children interrupting my jobs, or are my other jobs interfering with my relationships with my children? I learned to stop myself. And I'm still learning, because it's hard. I shut off all the things going on in my brain and I focus on my kids. It's as simple and as difficult as that.

By the way, when my oldest first started preschool and I had a younger one still, my version of connecting after school looked like this. On the drive home, we'd chat in the car. (To this day, my kids know that "Nothing," and "I don't know," are not answers I accept when I ask about their day. I would kindly encourage them, "Use the good brain God gave you and think of one thing to share." And then wait. It never failed. I'm hopeful this has given us a foundation of openness about their time they spend away from me at school.) When we got home and little guy went down for his nap, my big girl and I would have a snack date. I'd make a special snack - the same for BOTH of us - sit across the table from her, and chat with her more about anything. The point was connection. The point was making sure she knew I liked her, I wanted to know her, and I loved to be with her. Ugh, that last bit gave me a lump in my throat.

In each season of the young ages, I tried hard to maximize one on one time, until, finally, they were both old enough to follow along in the same book and we could spend that quality time together.

So I guess the bottom line here is this. Holding your influential ground when you lose hours with your kids during the school year is not so much about lecturing and teaching and trying to make that lasting impression on the ball of clay. The lasting impression, I'm guessing, is simply a natural result of a positive, loving relationship. If your child has more of a positive relationship with their peers, their teacher, their coach, or their choice of entertainment, then those things or people will most likely have more of an influence on them. I know it's healthy for those influencers to shift as they get closer to adulthood. But I'm certainly not willing to lose my influence on my children right now, and by accident. By carelessness.

Making the most of the short windows of time during the week is what I shoot for. And then I lecture sometimes too. I'm really good at lecturing. But I know deep down, it is not the heart of love. Relationship is. Time and touch and listening and snacks.

We will have to fight for consistent opportunities to connect with our kids. I know it. Our phones and our friends and our blogs and our schedules will compete against our children for our attention. I pray that we both make better choices this year in those little windows, for those little souls.

Back to School Series: an introduction

"Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address."

That's what Tom Hanks says, of course playing Joe Fox to one Kathleen Kelly (Meg Ryan), in the movie "You've Got Mail." And every time I see that movie, my heart jumps a little at that part. I love the back-to-school season, perhaps because as a child, it meant the start of a whole new year of learning, reading new books, and making up dance routines on the playground with my friends.

As I face a new school year now as a mother, I feel equally excited for my kids to learn and grow, but also a little anxious. I spend so much time making sure THEY are prepared, but am I? Am I equipped to adequately help them face the social and academic challenges? Am I grounded, myself, for the many early mornings and trying afternoons of homework to come?

I know I'm not alone in these concerns, so I've compiled a series of short posts sharing what I HAVE learned in the last 6 years of having school aged children. The posts are intended to not only offer you some new ideas for your routine, but also to refresh my own mind, gird me up with intentionality and renewed vision.

If you have a child starting school this fall, of any age, really, I hope you follow along and join in the conversation. It's tough being a mother. But it's perhaps tougher to be a kid. Staying encouraged in our online community will hopefully help us start off this new school year with courage and practical tools.  Here are the topics I'll cover in the series, sort of in order:

- keeping your influence as kids get immersed in a school culture

- fearless parenting during the ups and downs

- teaching your kids about emotions

- being their ultimate authority and advocate

- how to support and bless even a difficult teacher

- the value of prayer for your kids in school

Stay tuned! The series will start soon.

Now I need to get back to sharpening pencils.

Why enjoying Mother's Day is so hard

 

It's a crazy paradox, this Mother's Day business.

The reason it is so difficult for us mothers to enjoy Mother's Day is because we are mothers. We are highly skilled at giving to others, and highly horrible at receiving from them. It is impossible that a mother was the one who invented Mother's Day. A mother would have never suggested everyone else take a day to honor her. I'm sure it was a man. Men are typically great at respecting and honoring their mothers.

And mothers? Well, we stink at letting ourselves be honored.

On the other hand, we're amazing at pouring out into our loved ones.

We know unconditional love. We teach love every day.

No one on earth can take better care of our people than we can. We are irreplaceable.

We are experts in the thousand most important details of our children's lives. Hands down, no contest.

But get us to enjoy a day revolving around us? That's as likely as getting a walk-in appointment with the pediatrician on a Monday morning.

The fact is that somewhere between the positive pregnancy test and potty training, we totally forgot how to be honored. In the unrelenting, hard labor of learning how to lay down our lives, we grew quite skilled at giving to others, and quite unfamiliar with taking for ourselves.

I've heard many a mom friend say something like, "I just feel so guilty when I take time for myself..."

There you have it: it is so bad that we have criminalized meeting our own needs. And that's just backwards, isn't it? Of course! How can we fill anyone else unless we ourselves are filled up first? I think the ones who understand most our need to be prioritized are our husbands. That's why they will try, this Mother's Day, to treat us, in their own ways. To bless us. To make our kids wear scratchy button-up shirts because they know that's what we want.

And the best response we can have, the most loving thing we can do, is to enjoy it.

First of all, who am I to deny my husband the chance to love and honor me in front of my children? Not allowing them to pamper me a bit is denying them the blessing of serving.

And second of all, enjoying the day means remembering how valuable we are as mothers, and realizing how crucial it is for our children to see that. We deserve honor (wow, it's hard for me even to type the words), and our kids need to see that we believe it. It is damaging to our children's development to allow them to believe we are simply maids, short order cooks, and chauffeurs.

I know not every family works the same way. Many moms serve their families while receiving no appreciation or honor from their loved ones. That's sad, and that's not how God designed the family to function. But it is reality because we live in a broken world. In fact, our own brokenness is what keeps us from understanding our worth. But God knows it. He tells it. No one will ever affirm your role as a mother better than the one who gave you the role in the first place. To the unappreciated mother, I say let Him. Open your heart to hear the Lord's whispers of love and sincere validation for the job you are doing. He smiles when He sees you love on that child He gave you.

I need His validation, I forget who I am. I forget why I am. And while I'll probably get choked up by the loving cards from my family members today, I need God's affirmation most. He's the only one who really sees what kind of mother I am, what things about this job threaten to break me, and what my deepest desires for my family are. He hears every plea I make on their behalf, and He teaches me how to mother best.

 

So friends, I am going to try my hardest to enjoy the day. I will smile, be gracious, and say "Thank you!" when my husband and children make efforts to love me. I will not apologize for allowing them to do some of my dirty work. I will not hinder them from finding the blessing in serving me. 

Oh, it won't be a perfect day. Someone will be crying at some point, or arguing, or being selfish (and it may even be me!). Again. Broken world. But love covers a multitude of sins.

Let love cover them.

Let love cover you.

Happy Mother's Day.

On boundaries, from the Target dressing room

Good morning, friends.

Good morning, new week. You arrived really extra early today, didn't you?

Last night, I shut off my computer earlier than I wanted to, knowing waking up today would be painful. So I postponed writing this till now, as a strategy to force my eyes to stay open.

Yesterday, my daughter and I went to Target. She had a gift card {lucky}. And what she wanted was one of their new swim suits for spring. It is a bit of a dance every year for us, as I figure out where my boundaries lie in terms of swim suits and modesty for her. What's out there for young girls can go vastly beyond what I deem appropriate for a child. She is only nine, but because she shops in the "big girl" section now, the choices range in size up to 16.

Like me, she is long waisted, the tallest in her class, and has the same difficulty I did as a child in finding a suit. Few one-pieces fit her long torso without pulling and gaping awkwardly. But I'm certainly not feeling she's ready for a bikini either (will I ever? I don't know). So she grabbed about 7 choices, most from among the two pieces with longer tops, in the "tankini" range.

What's funny is that each time I said "Nope, not that one," (like to the one-piece that was cut exactly like a sexy swimsuit for a woman), she never once argued. She tried one that she "LOVED" (because of the print) but once it was on, the V-neck was cut so low you could see the top of her ribcage. I offered, "Hm. Let's see what's next." She knew it wasn't my favorite, and she didn't push back. A beautiful ruffled suit also had to be eliminated. It looked like a tankini on the hanger, but once on, it was a lot skimpier. She really liked it, and I thought it was a really pretty suit too. But there was just way too much exposed skin in between the pieces. Again, I said it wasn't my favorite, and she was perfectly content to move on.

For a girl who is usually headstrong and opinionated, particularly when it comes to making decisions with her mother (and I'm talking about my daughter, not me :), she was incredibly agreeable.

Which got me thinking.

Maybe, because of our culture, because of her peers, and because of what retailers put on the rack subtly implying what she should prefer, maybe she feels a bit of pressure to like certain things. Maybe my daughter feels carried along by the current of needing to grow up too fast. I mean, I certainly give her those messages in other areas - I put pressure on her to act more responsibly, or more grown-up than she is at times.

And maybe, my setting boundaries in her clothing choices, saying, "No, not yet" is delightfully freeing for her.

Maybe her little spirit breathes a sigh of relief when I allow her to remain a child for yet another summer.

Maybe she feels safer within the boundaries set by a loving parent, versus being left to roam freely in a world of grown up expectations.

Have you heard of the study social scientists performed on children in a schoolyard? They removed the fences, and instead of the children running free beyond the boundaries of the schoolyard, they remained huddled towards its center, fearful and insecure. When they replaced the fences, the children were free to run all over the yard without concern. It was the visible boundaries which made them feel safe.

I could not help think about that study as I was putting the rejected swimsuits back on the hangers. We narrowed the suits down to two well-covering tankinis, and she was allowed to choose her favorite (remember, giving a choice let's a child feel powerful?) It was a great experience overall. And to top if off, we found a darling polka dotted dress on the clearance rack for $11.

On the way home, we talked about how darling her body is. I shared that even though no one feels hers is perfect, we should be proud of what God's given us, remembering our ultimate beauty is inside. Though I strive to teach modesty, I also want my daughter to appreciate her femininity. That takes effort on my part. It's a very fine line between using words that encourage modesty but don't sound like I'm saying her body is "bad." I don't want her to have any shameful feelings about her looks, particularly as she enters her teen years just around the corner. And talk about swimming upstream - that is a current I will certainly have to fight against, as her mother.

But hey, in these kinds of cultural waters, I'm a pretty strong swimmer.

Insta-Friday: a dreamy afternoon to remember

 

In the winter, we bear down.

We stay in.

We wake in the dark, work hard, and then somehow, it's already dark again.

Right now, we're on this cusp of winter turning into spring, like horses on a racetrack just brought into the gates.

We are all snorting and stamping, itching with energy, ready to burst out of the sleepy season and into the sun.

We are all ready to stretch our legs.

And last week, my kids and I had that sweet chance, the first chance, to race in the warm afternoon sunshine.

We went to a local farm. It was glorious.

Animals can be so therapeutic for the ailments we suffer at the hand of our fast-paced culture.

They remind me that my Creator is not in a hurry.

Did you know that I love animals? I haven't talked about that in a while. Some people are reminded about God's character in the outdoors or in art or music. I see so much of His personality, His humor, His tenderness, and His power in animals.

These guys are more in the humor category.

Do you know that God meant for us to smile at this stuff?

I want to frame every one of the photos from this day. And perhaps not so much because they are extraordinary, but because they represent a day when our spirits were lifted, unburdened by responsibility; we were connected and brimming with joy, my children and I.

It's an afternoon I want to remember.

Wishing you one of those someday soon.

{Linking up here.}

Discipline Q & (hopefully some) A

Before I close out the discipline series (I have one or two more posts in me), I want to ask you if you have any questions for me about this topic. You can either ask them in a comment below, or if you'd like it to be more private, you can always email me. I love getting personal emails, by the way. So, any questions?

Now, here's mine. Did you know I'd be doing some asking too? Since I don't know everything about discipline and training up these fair children of mine (Wait, what?? I know, you thought I did), I have a question for YOU. I try to be a constant learner, and I'd love some new ideas on this wall I keep hitting with my kids. I feel the most frustrated in one area: they don't put their stuff where it belongs (GASP! I know. I'm sure I'm the only one.) Whether it be shoes kicked off after school, dirty clothes, wet towels, trash, you name it, rarely does anything of theirs end up in the proper place without my asking them to put it there. For the millionth day in a row. It seems that no matter the praises for the successes or threats for the mistakes, the problem remains. For those of you with kids older than mine, maybe you can help me see the light at the end of the tunnel. Is there one? Is this a maturity thing? Because I seem to believe that a six and nine year old should be able to put clothes either on a hanger or in the hamper every day, and put shoes and backpacks where they go after school. But no, nothing's working, so help!

I will try to answer the questions I get from you friends, but just know that I may say, "I don't know!" I have so much to learn still. The reason I am offering to field questions AT ALL is simply because I know I may be one small step ahead of some of you in these matters, and therefore have some humble offering. That's all. And the same goes for you. You are surely one step ahead of someone in your life in terms of parenting or your faith or whatever else. Don't be afraid to offer to that person the bits of wisdom and experience that you have. God may want to use you.  

If you are new here and want to catch up on the series, check out the February archive list on the sidebar and start with the post called "Discipline, Let's Talk."

Looking forward to hearing from you!