I have a lot of big feelings when it comes to Christians claiming their rights in this country. On the one hand, I believe in human dignity. So, of course, as humans Christians should be given dignity. We shouldn't squash people because they hold Christian beliefs. They are entitled to hold their beliefs and should receive dignity whether they are agreeable or not to the person charged with giving them dignity. And yes, Christians are part of a religion and in America, we have certain religious freedoms available to us that make it a really wonderful place to live for someone with religious beliefs. We don't have to worry about being imprisoned, stoned, etc for holding certain views.
And yet. Demanding our fair share is not a Christian value. Being great is not supposed to be something we pursue (personal greatness, fine, greatness at the expense of others, no). We're supposed to turn the other cheek, not slam the door on our enemies. I read an article recently calling out the intertwining relationship between American Christianity and our sacred cow of patriotism. It called into question specifically how this has affected the campaign of Donald Trump. It was a good read. In the end, there is a difference between setting healthy boundaries (not being a doormat) and demanding what's "yours." I honestly don't see Jesus doing the latter, ever. When he was being falsely accused, He did not speak (that always baffled me). When he was on the cross, He did not come down. He did not curse His enemies, but called for their forgiveness.
I've learned the hard way how hard Christian faith can make it to set healthy boundaries and to live into your worthiness. So I don't want to shame people for wanting basic protections and having their needs met. And yet, I really blanche at anything that resembles Christian entitlement. If we want to demand our religious freedoms, we better be willing to demand those freedoms for those who hold different religious beliefs. If we want to honor our faith by breaking discrimination laws, we don't get to call out "discrimination" back. We get to pay a fine or go to jail. Those are actual choices. It's ok to be radical. Jesus certainly was. But if you think being radical will have no consequences, you don't understand the term.
Sunday, July 24, 2016
Wednesday, July 13, 2016
Parenting Moments
I had a few milestones today with the kids that I wanted to document. The first one is, Penny turned 3 today! It was so fun to see her and Macy playing in the Columbia River tonight at the same exact spot we took our family/maternity pictures 2 weeks before she was born. Macy was only 5 then. Watching them interact just reminded me how quickly time goes on and how incredibly grateful I am that we added to our family 3 years ago. For those of you who don't know, we had another kid because I was totally not done after having one. And I didn't get pregnant again for a long time (hence the 5 year age difference). Tim was totally satisfied with one kid and I was not remotely satisfied. I was so in love with Macy and just knew I wanted another child. Then came Penny. Just such a magical little creature. She was such a perfect little newborn baby, great at nursing and very happy to be worn by mommy. It was bliss. Simultaneously, we were going through the biggest challenge of our family's existence - Tim's mental health crisis. It was such a strange mix of joy, fear, trauma and deep satisfaction. That health setback allowed our family to face our "stuff" in therapy and learn how to really love and care for ourselves as individuals. We were held up by our community in a real way during that time and I honestly don't know what we would have done without our family and friends. It's crazy to think what our lives would be like if I hadn't been so desperate for a second child. All of our lives would be on a completely different path. Not just because we would be missing the entire incredible element of Penny's existence, but also because it was her birth and the subsequent adjustment to it that forced us all to grow in such deep ways. At first, I felt guilty about how difficult of an adjustment it was for all of us, knowing that I was by far the impetus for such a change. And yet, we owe Penny a huge debt. Her birth and her existence has made us what we have become. I will always be grateful for that. I have this weird sixth sense when it comes to discernment and I'm so glad I've learned to fully tune in to my gut. I knew we weren't complete. And now we are. Thank God for Penelope Jin-Ok Sibley.
The other big thing that happened today was that Tim and I had to make good on a big, looming consequence for Macy. I won't disclose what she's been struggling with behaviorally, but it's an integrity issue that Tim and I have gone around and around with her about. We finally put the biggest thing we could think of on the line. And unfortunately, with full knowledge of the consequences, Macy made her decision today. It was crushing, just awful. So she will not be participating in Journey Theater this fall. No classes. No show. I'm really disappointed because it means the world to her. It had become something we enjoyed together and I'm feeling that loss personally too. It's so important to us to raise a child of integrity that we are willing to allow her to face the biggest consequence we can imagine (based on her priorities) to teach her this valuable lesson. Sometimes being a parent really hurts. But I know deep in my heart that we're doing the right thing. It's so critical for children to learn to take responsibility for their choices and to have natural consequences for those choices play out. Thankfully, I feel no struggle about the actual decision because we literally had no choice. Sometimes your child's choices back you into a corner and not following through is truly bad parenting. We offered her grace. We corrected misunderstandings. We explained things clearly. And she made her choice. I could see her processing and trying to keep her chin up but I knew it as soon as she started shame-spiraling. I saw her internalize her mistake "I was bad" and then projecting the loss as inevitable "I wouldn't have gotten a part anyway (in the play)". Gratefully, I can read her like a book and I immediately spoke into that place. "You're a wonderful child. You made a bad decision." And I provided empathy "I'm so sorry you're having to lose this. It's really sad." I held her for a long time while I watched her process her thoughts and feelings. When I felt tempted to renege, I remembered the parents of the Stanford rapist, who raised a young man without empathy, self-awareness and the ability to take responsibility for reprehensible choices. God knows where his victim would be if they had put his choices and subsequent consequences in his hands early on. Rather, they continue to behave as if rape is accidental, understandable and preventable with sobriety. I hate to provide consequences and yet, I must. For society's sake and for my child's sake. Ugh.
The other big thing that happened today was that Tim and I had to make good on a big, looming consequence for Macy. I won't disclose what she's been struggling with behaviorally, but it's an integrity issue that Tim and I have gone around and around with her about. We finally put the biggest thing we could think of on the line. And unfortunately, with full knowledge of the consequences, Macy made her decision today. It was crushing, just awful. So she will not be participating in Journey Theater this fall. No classes. No show. I'm really disappointed because it means the world to her. It had become something we enjoyed together and I'm feeling that loss personally too. It's so important to us to raise a child of integrity that we are willing to allow her to face the biggest consequence we can imagine (based on her priorities) to teach her this valuable lesson. Sometimes being a parent really hurts. But I know deep in my heart that we're doing the right thing. It's so critical for children to learn to take responsibility for their choices and to have natural consequences for those choices play out. Thankfully, I feel no struggle about the actual decision because we literally had no choice. Sometimes your child's choices back you into a corner and not following through is truly bad parenting. We offered her grace. We corrected misunderstandings. We explained things clearly. And she made her choice. I could see her processing and trying to keep her chin up but I knew it as soon as she started shame-spiraling. I saw her internalize her mistake "I was bad" and then projecting the loss as inevitable "I wouldn't have gotten a part anyway (in the play)". Gratefully, I can read her like a book and I immediately spoke into that place. "You're a wonderful child. You made a bad decision." And I provided empathy "I'm so sorry you're having to lose this. It's really sad." I held her for a long time while I watched her process her thoughts and feelings. When I felt tempted to renege, I remembered the parents of the Stanford rapist, who raised a young man without empathy, self-awareness and the ability to take responsibility for reprehensible choices. God knows where his victim would be if they had put his choices and subsequent consequences in his hands early on. Rather, they continue to behave as if rape is accidental, understandable and preventable with sobriety. I hate to provide consequences and yet, I must. For society's sake and for my child's sake. Ugh.
Sunday, July 10, 2016
America - Trends in Victim Blaming and a Lack of Impulse Control
I can't help but feel in that light of recent events, we have a problem in this country with victim-blaming. I know this isn't a new thing to highlight and yet, as a woman who is at greater risk for sexual assault, I have found comments related to police brutality and what the victims could have done to prevent their murders to be quite triggering. Rather than saying, we need to deal with our issues of impulse control and a propensity towards violence (which is a critical piece to both police brutality and sexual assault), we want to run a post-mortem or post-attack rap sheet on victims, further victimizing already targeted groups. Frankly, what the victim is wearing, whether or not they have a criminal record is no indication of their worthiness of being violated. They are not worthy of being violated. There is no such thing as being worthy of victimization. That's the whole point. They were preyed upon and the responsibility for such immoral activity must rest in the hands of the person who performed such atrocities.
We want to believe we live in a world where good behavior increases our likelihood for safety. While I'm sure being respectful to police officers in specific situations may have been helpful, insinuating that respectful words and tones will keep people from being brutalized inevitably blames the victim for their own death. And frankly, it's fundamentally untrue that this will keep black people safe. As if it isn't difficult enough to reconcile the wrongful death, we have to heap responsibility on the victims and their families shoulders. It's wrong. Frankly, a lot of wrongful deaths in police interactions occur before the victim is even able to provide identification, thereby making all information about them after the fact completely irrelevant.
Why can't we just say, people with privilege (cops in these brutality cases, rapists in cases of assault) need to gain better control of their fear and need to dominate another person? This even goes back to my philosophy about parenting. I have more privilege than my children. Therefore, I must be the bigger person. If my children are violent towards me, that does not excuse me to be violent towards them. I must stay calm. I must de-escalate. I am capable of maintaining control without asserting domination. How can we expect our constituents to respect police authority when the policemen victimize their communities? Privilege needs greater accountability. If we begin to respect those with less privilege, then fair treatment will result. As fair treatment becomes consistent, attitudes will shift over time. If the police have lost respect, then they need to work to gain it back. It's easier to accept discipline from a safe person than from someone who might shoot you for obeying their orders. This is easy for me to see as a white person who has never been scared of the police.
We have this weird idea in our culture that "real men don't back down." Our police force can't safely de-escalate because we believe the authoritative response to force is greater force. We want to be bigger, more powerful, further weaponized (hello bomb-robots!) in order to protect ourselves from each other. We need to look within and recognize that the "other" isn't the problem. The problem is our gaping need for security. This need for personal security is relegating communal security as a secondary priority. And when push comes to shove (literally), we choose self-preservation every time. I understand that this is a human instinct. It's part of how we've survived each other this long. And yet, I want to believe that we can learn to prioritize the group over self. Our culture is so individualized that we do not know how to deal with our connection to each other. So many of us feel brutalized over the week's events (I know I can't speak into this really as a non-member of the black community). Why? Because we are connected. Deep down, we want peace. We want to find a way to make the community safe without having to die in the process. We've got our work cut out for us, for sure. I think we should start with sitting in our fears, taking responsibility for our impulses and refusing to blame victims for their deaths.
We want to believe we live in a world where good behavior increases our likelihood for safety. While I'm sure being respectful to police officers in specific situations may have been helpful, insinuating that respectful words and tones will keep people from being brutalized inevitably blames the victim for their own death. And frankly, it's fundamentally untrue that this will keep black people safe. As if it isn't difficult enough to reconcile the wrongful death, we have to heap responsibility on the victims and their families shoulders. It's wrong. Frankly, a lot of wrongful deaths in police interactions occur before the victim is even able to provide identification, thereby making all information about them after the fact completely irrelevant.
Why can't we just say, people with privilege (cops in these brutality cases, rapists in cases of assault) need to gain better control of their fear and need to dominate another person? This even goes back to my philosophy about parenting. I have more privilege than my children. Therefore, I must be the bigger person. If my children are violent towards me, that does not excuse me to be violent towards them. I must stay calm. I must de-escalate. I am capable of maintaining control without asserting domination. How can we expect our constituents to respect police authority when the policemen victimize their communities? Privilege needs greater accountability. If we begin to respect those with less privilege, then fair treatment will result. As fair treatment becomes consistent, attitudes will shift over time. If the police have lost respect, then they need to work to gain it back. It's easier to accept discipline from a safe person than from someone who might shoot you for obeying their orders. This is easy for me to see as a white person who has never been scared of the police.
We have this weird idea in our culture that "real men don't back down." Our police force can't safely de-escalate because we believe the authoritative response to force is greater force. We want to be bigger, more powerful, further weaponized (hello bomb-robots!) in order to protect ourselves from each other. We need to look within and recognize that the "other" isn't the problem. The problem is our gaping need for security. This need for personal security is relegating communal security as a secondary priority. And when push comes to shove (literally), we choose self-preservation every time. I understand that this is a human instinct. It's part of how we've survived each other this long. And yet, I want to believe that we can learn to prioritize the group over self. Our culture is so individualized that we do not know how to deal with our connection to each other. So many of us feel brutalized over the week's events (I know I can't speak into this really as a non-member of the black community). Why? Because we are connected. Deep down, we want peace. We want to find a way to make the community safe without having to die in the process. We've got our work cut out for us, for sure. I think we should start with sitting in our fears, taking responsibility for our impulses and refusing to blame victims for their deaths.
Friday, July 1, 2016
Breathe in Life and Grace
It's such a gift to feel like after speaking with your Reverend, you've breathed in fresh air. I feel really lucky to be building that relationship, as it's a balm to my soul both from past experiences that were unhealthy and from the pain this world inflicts on me day to day. One of the things we talked about today was how we connect with God. I've struggled with my relationship with the Bible these last few years. As soon as I open that cover, it's like I'm pressing play on all my Church of Christ tapes and I can't seem to press stop until I close it again. I've studied the Bible A LOT. And when you read the same version and hear the same lessons, they make an imprint. Many of us pursued that relentlessly. This was not something put upon me. This was something I chose. And yet now, I can't seem to un-choose it. And so I wonder, how can I connect with God without listening to tapes that reinforce shame and cause me to set aside my humility and compassion?
I was raised to believe that the Bible was a critical piece to faith. That I must submit to the Bible's authority in order to be close to God. And while I believe through my writing and various other activities and relationships I am pursuing God, I haven't felt close to Him since I put down the Bible, like I had confidence in what I knew He was doing. I'm a lot less likely to attribute events to Him, motives to Him, politics to Him, disasters or blessings to Him. I hesitate to put His name on stuff. I admit that I'm not totally sure what He is or isn't actively doing in the world right now. But I feel more in tune that when I see Him, I feel love, grace, mercy, forgiveness. I see Him in neighbors and friends standing up for each other. I see Him in children. I see Him in activism. But I don't "know" as much. I am less likely to "know" and a lot more likely to "hope." I believe this has made me a better person and has taught me to tune into and use my voice. Yet, sometimes I wonder, am I close to God? Is that even really possible? Or is my western idea of God interacting with us personally all the time, just that, a western, modern idea?
I've had to sift through all my faith experiences and just like when you move and sort into piles, I'm figuring out what goes in the "church pile", "God pile", and "human error pile." It's not easy and it's wildly subjective (pretty major factor in the "not easy" part).
My Reverend and I discussed many ways to connect with God. She suggested I tune in to how I feel close to Him already (in nature, through self-expression, art, music) and to implement those practices into my regular life. She talked about how spiritual practice is just that, practice. There's a balance where we're never quite settled. It's something we pursue and practice all our lives, should we choose to lean in to our spiritual selves. I realized that one of the main ways I commune with God is through human conversation. In her quiet grace, I was reminded by God of so many things that are hard for me to remember. I actually took a few notes after we got off the phone so I could remind myself of these important, life-giving things. She reminded me, "You don't have to do everything." HA! That is one of those things I could nail to my forehead and forget. And this is why we need reminders. And this is why I write this today. Other people need reminders.
You are enough.
You deserve rest.
You can't fix everything.
Exhale, inhale.
Just breathe.
We talked about how one of the things I struggle with is self-care in Facebook conversations. I really care about social causes and I've developed a skill set for moderating difficult online conversations. And I love it so, so much. It gives me energy and purpose. But sometimes, because I choose to stay soft, I need to pace myself because it can be very difficult. After Orlando and the modern day lynching of Ronnie Shumpert, I am overwhelmed with sadness for our world. And I know there's more that I just can't even sit in. Turkey immediately comes to mind. It's important to me to hold space for grief. And yet, sometimes it's okay to say, I need to hibernate in my grief. Or I need to step away for a minute from my grief. Or I need to distract myself with some fun because my grief is killing me. I wanted to say today that that is okay. Self-care and holding grief have to work in tandem. My Reverand said, "Do what you do best and use the influence you have. Release the rest to God. The rest is not yours to fix." May I never get to a point where my heart is hard. And in order stay soft, I must occasionally step back and rest.
I was raised to believe that the Bible was a critical piece to faith. That I must submit to the Bible's authority in order to be close to God. And while I believe through my writing and various other activities and relationships I am pursuing God, I haven't felt close to Him since I put down the Bible, like I had confidence in what I knew He was doing. I'm a lot less likely to attribute events to Him, motives to Him, politics to Him, disasters or blessings to Him. I hesitate to put His name on stuff. I admit that I'm not totally sure what He is or isn't actively doing in the world right now. But I feel more in tune that when I see Him, I feel love, grace, mercy, forgiveness. I see Him in neighbors and friends standing up for each other. I see Him in children. I see Him in activism. But I don't "know" as much. I am less likely to "know" and a lot more likely to "hope." I believe this has made me a better person and has taught me to tune into and use my voice. Yet, sometimes I wonder, am I close to God? Is that even really possible? Or is my western idea of God interacting with us personally all the time, just that, a western, modern idea?
I've had to sift through all my faith experiences and just like when you move and sort into piles, I'm figuring out what goes in the "church pile", "God pile", and "human error pile." It's not easy and it's wildly subjective (pretty major factor in the "not easy" part).
My Reverend and I discussed many ways to connect with God. She suggested I tune in to how I feel close to Him already (in nature, through self-expression, art, music) and to implement those practices into my regular life. She talked about how spiritual practice is just that, practice. There's a balance where we're never quite settled. It's something we pursue and practice all our lives, should we choose to lean in to our spiritual selves. I realized that one of the main ways I commune with God is through human conversation. In her quiet grace, I was reminded by God of so many things that are hard for me to remember. I actually took a few notes after we got off the phone so I could remind myself of these important, life-giving things. She reminded me, "You don't have to do everything." HA! That is one of those things I could nail to my forehead and forget. And this is why we need reminders. And this is why I write this today. Other people need reminders.
You are enough.
You deserve rest.
You can't fix everything.
Exhale, inhale.
Just breathe.
We talked about how one of the things I struggle with is self-care in Facebook conversations. I really care about social causes and I've developed a skill set for moderating difficult online conversations. And I love it so, so much. It gives me energy and purpose. But sometimes, because I choose to stay soft, I need to pace myself because it can be very difficult. After Orlando and the modern day lynching of Ronnie Shumpert, I am overwhelmed with sadness for our world. And I know there's more that I just can't even sit in. Turkey immediately comes to mind. It's important to me to hold space for grief. And yet, sometimes it's okay to say, I need to hibernate in my grief. Or I need to step away for a minute from my grief. Or I need to distract myself with some fun because my grief is killing me. I wanted to say today that that is okay. Self-care and holding grief have to work in tandem. My Reverand said, "Do what you do best and use the influence you have. Release the rest to God. The rest is not yours to fix." May I never get to a point where my heart is hard. And in order stay soft, I must occasionally step back and rest.
Monday, June 27, 2016
It's Ok to Start with Me
It's no secret that I feel passionate about social justice. Often this manifests in rights for the LGBTQI community, as seen in my previous post. It's a little easier for me to engage in conversations about gay rights because the usual arguments against them are biblical. I was raised in that world and know how to live outside of the ideology that perpetuates restricting the freedoms of others we don't know and don't understand. Things get a little grittier when I try to advocate for the rights of racial minorities. For one, I grew up very sheltered and very white. So while I think of myself as an ally and care deeply about social justice for racial minorities, I also know that for me to really be an advocate, I must learn and I must listen.
With gay rights, I don't know what it's like to be gay but I feel I have a good understanding of the mindset of the opposition. In instances of racial injustice, I don't understand either side. I care very deeply and believe undoubtedly that #blacklivesmatter but I am not black. I don't understand what it's like to be black in this country. I'm trying to acknowledge my white privilege and I'm trying to listen when black people (and all racial minorities) tell us what it's like to be them. That is such a huge part of this for me, to listen to the stories people want to tell me. What I'm still surprised by and grieved by is that this attitude of wanting to sit in the reality of my privilege and set aside whatever it takes to level the playing field for everyone is not as common as I assume. I feel like I've had my ass handed to me on racial justice issues of late. Mainly because I've chosen to disengage when it's clear the person is not listening and does not come at these issues in the same way as I do. So when I engage thinking, this person wants to learn, they just need to listen, and they yell and scream a lot of realities that just aren't true, I choose to walk away. It's not because screaming back isn't necessary. I sometimes wonder if I'm failing when I disengage. Such is the culture of online conversation. Whoever rants the most appears on top.
But I try really hard to keep my emotions in check when I discuss things of social importance online and if I'm screaming, I'm not listening either. Sometimes when I listen to the other side, it's devastating. I'm genuinely depressed and disgusted by the things I've heard lately. I'm really surprised that people want to believe that white privilege, racism and police brutality are media tricks and old news. I'm truly baffled. More so, my rose-colored glasses approach (assigning positive intent, giving information with respect, assuming people want to learn) is really not working here. At this point, I want to acknowledge the victory I've had in choosing to disengage and not scream back. But I'm really sad. And even saying that I'm surprised by the level of racism around me is evidence of my privilege. It is not new information to the many who have fought on the front lines for a lifetime. For me, engaging in this fight is a choice, a passion that I could walk away from at any time (theoretically). That is not possible for anyone who physically presents as a minority. That is enough for me to allow my anger to reinforce the necessity of these conversations and to know that it's not up to me to change people's minds. I can start with me. That'll have to be enough for now.
With gay rights, I don't know what it's like to be gay but I feel I have a good understanding of the mindset of the opposition. In instances of racial injustice, I don't understand either side. I care very deeply and believe undoubtedly that #blacklivesmatter but I am not black. I don't understand what it's like to be black in this country. I'm trying to acknowledge my white privilege and I'm trying to listen when black people (and all racial minorities) tell us what it's like to be them. That is such a huge part of this for me, to listen to the stories people want to tell me. What I'm still surprised by and grieved by is that this attitude of wanting to sit in the reality of my privilege and set aside whatever it takes to level the playing field for everyone is not as common as I assume. I feel like I've had my ass handed to me on racial justice issues of late. Mainly because I've chosen to disengage when it's clear the person is not listening and does not come at these issues in the same way as I do. So when I engage thinking, this person wants to learn, they just need to listen, and they yell and scream a lot of realities that just aren't true, I choose to walk away. It's not because screaming back isn't necessary. I sometimes wonder if I'm failing when I disengage. Such is the culture of online conversation. Whoever rants the most appears on top.
But I try really hard to keep my emotions in check when I discuss things of social importance online and if I'm screaming, I'm not listening either. Sometimes when I listen to the other side, it's devastating. I'm genuinely depressed and disgusted by the things I've heard lately. I'm really surprised that people want to believe that white privilege, racism and police brutality are media tricks and old news. I'm truly baffled. More so, my rose-colored glasses approach (assigning positive intent, giving information with respect, assuming people want to learn) is really not working here. At this point, I want to acknowledge the victory I've had in choosing to disengage and not scream back. But I'm really sad. And even saying that I'm surprised by the level of racism around me is evidence of my privilege. It is not new information to the many who have fought on the front lines for a lifetime. For me, engaging in this fight is a choice, a passion that I could walk away from at any time (theoretically). That is not possible for anyone who physically presents as a minority. That is enough for me to allow my anger to reinforce the necessity of these conversations and to know that it's not up to me to change people's minds. I can start with me. That'll have to be enough for now.
Wednesday, June 15, 2016
I Love Jesus and I Affirm LGBTQI
This post has been a long time coming. My social media interactions this week finally put the nail in the coffin of me being demure about my beliefs about homosexuality. Ever since I left the church of Christ (and conservative Christianity), I've come to place an incredibly high value on conversation. The more I've learned to listen, the better I've become at speaking. I've always loved talking, but in my need to be right, it was more of a talking at versus a listening to. And when I listened, I heard bullet points that I needed to negate in my response. I had conversations to teach rather than to learn. Many of us frame this as "outreach." Rather than seeking to validate the feelings and viewpoint of my "opponent", I tried to dismantle their beliefs in order to further validate myself. While that mentality is not exclusive to conservative faith, that is the environment in which I learned it. Because if someone can prove you wrong, then you are, plain and simple. And being wrong might mean you're bad. And if you're bad, God doesn't love you. That's why we constantly have to fight to be good. (I know, crazy).
As we all know, this debate style can get destructive very quickly, especially on social media. Many of my dear friends have encouraged me to stop hosting and moderating cultural conversations on Facebook, knowing that I get attacked, have false motives placed upon me, while trying desperately to avoid taking the bait. And let's face it: I've got health issues and small children to raise and when you can't sleep because you've got tears rolling down your face and thoughts racing through your wired mind, one wonders if conversation is indeed worth the trouble.
I continue on because I've become who I am (of which I'm very proud) partly through such experiences. I've honed my values through hearing many perspectives on issues of importance to me. I've always loved diversity and I want it to remain. I believe in God as Creator. I see his artistry most clearly in the diversity of mankind. But we can't live alongside people who are different from us and get along and grow as a collective society if we can't see things from another perspective. Just for a moment, we must learn to suspend our background, biases, assumptions, yes - even our faith, to try to understand what the "other" might be thinking and feeling. What would it be like to occupy their headspace, all while assigning them the same level of dignity and humanity we give to ourselves?
What does this have to do with homosexuality? If I am going to form a theology based on what I believe about homosexuals and God, I must begin by listening to homosexuals. I want to know their stories, to have them teach me about what it means to be them. This is how we are shaped, by story. And I want to be shaped. I want to be open, to hear, to change, to learn. How can I develop a theology about someone I don't know, don't love, don't value personally in my life?
This, of course, is my adulthood speaking. I grew up being told what God said about homosexuality (that it was wrong, unnatural, and its offenders were going to hell). I was raised to listen to God first and only. That everything must be seen through the lens we assign him (you better believe we assign it through our biblical interpretation) and let the chips fall where they may, regardless of how we or anyone else feels about it. This worked for me. Until I got into relationships with people outside of conservative Christianity. Once I got to know some gay people, I went back to the drawing board. It's okay to start with scripture. But if that is all that informs our beliefs, humans all around us be damned (pun sadly intended) then we might be missing something really important. Something game-changing. Something people all around us are getting beaten for, losing their lives for, walking away from God for.
If we believe that God is alive and working today, then we must admit that he is working in this generation, in this time, in our culture. Not that we assume all beliefs are therefore valid because of the time we're in, but is it possible that certain truths were veiled from humanity in a time where their implementation was not possible? What I mean is, if slavery was always wrong, but the Bible was written in a time where it was not socially possible (we had not evolved to the point to consider it) to abolish it, could it be that it addressed slavery to the level we could handle in the time the Bible was written? Meaning, rather than saying slavery was wrong (though we all agree upon that now and with solid Biblical support to that end), the Bible challenged slave owners to be kind and for slaves to serve with love. Many people used scripture to advocate that slavery was okay with God because he did not say to abolish it. And yet we look back now and call bullshit, right? I hope so.
Is it possible that homosexuality was only seen within the context of child slavery and idol worship at the time the Bible was written? Can we all agree that men should not rape little boys? I believe we can. Can we say that unprotected orgies in the name of some false god and the taking advantage of little children is probably not good for society? Yup, I can see that being constituted as "homosexual offenders" type of behavior. Perhaps that means we, as Christians should stop supporting industries that enslave and sexually traffic children? That we should worship the one true God we believe in and not have orgies with children as part of our praise time? We must learn to make distinctions between sodomizing young children in idol worship and adults who are in a committed, loving relationship who want to make a family and live in peace. The fact that this even needs to be said is appalling to me.
Is it possible that there was no concept of sexual orientation at the time the Bible was written? That we weren't ready (nor was science) to understand the nuances of gender, sex and orientation that we're aware of now? Does that mean that we've outgrown the Bible, that it's irrelevant, that we're "past" God? Or does it mean that we have permission to continue to read the Bible through a new lens, through this time, incorporating our experiences and relationships and the word of the people we're condemning before writing off an entire victimized people in the name of the God who made them exactly as they are?
My relationships with gay people up til now are all with people raised in conservative Christian circles. How do you think they felt during puberty or later when they realized they were gay? Seriously. You, heterosexual, married, Christian, think about it. HOW DID THEY FEEL? Do you think they were scared? Do you think they wished they could un-gay themselves? Do you think they tried? Do you think they felt lonely? Do you think they felt like they had a huge secret, that if they could just hide this terrible abomination, they might get to keep their faith, their family, their future and their community? If they had a choice, what do you think they would have chosen?
I don't believe being gay is a burden. I think we as a church made it a burden. Our society has made it a burden as well, though it's way ahead of the church on trying to make amends. Jesus saw people, not sins. He saw hearts. Where are our hearts? If you believe gay people are going to hell, are you upset about it? I really, really hope you are. I hope you're begging God every night to change his mind. God knows I used to.
Outside of how we interpret scripture, what do we know of the character of God? I think this is very important. If we know of God to be loving and patient, giving humanity every opportunity to turn to him and embrace the shocking love and communion he offers, why would he make people gay and then condemn them for it, with no hope of redemption? I think this is why we want so desperately for orientation to be a choice. Otherwise, God looks pretty bad, right? But if every time we ask a homosexual when they chose to be gay and they turn around and ask us when we chose to be heterosexual, we are in a bit of a conundrum.
Well, they can be celibate. Huh, okay. Let's all stand in solidarity then and say to God, while you made us beautiful, sexual and full of impulse to engage in the emotional and physical intimacy of sex (some might even say designed for it), we're all gonna boycott it. If one of us has to be celibate to please God, then I guess we all gotta be. How many of us would honestly sign up for that? Now, I know some gay Christians (no, that's not an oxymoron) feel convicted to be celibate. Go for it, peeps. Line up with the priests and nuns and be amazing individuals. Seriously. That actually IS a choice. But it's a choice made personally, not for you by people who never have to consider that as a valid option.
Well then, let them have sex but don't let them have the dignity of calling it love, marriage or family. They will always be less than God's perfect design. You know what this reminds me of, the prodigal son's older brother. Man, I used to really identify with him (before I realized I was just a regular human, rather than someone very holy, deserving and self-sacrificing). Are we stingy with the love of God? When we've worked a whole day, do we begrudge the person worked 2 hours and receives the same pay? Do we withhold the dignity of marriage and rights because we want to keep some of it for ourselves? If you want things to be fair, time to turn to a different religion, folks. God will always be more merciful than we are. And this is the crux of it for me. If I can imagine that gay people are worthy, beautiful, human and deserving, I'm pretty sure God knew it all along and was just kindly waiting for me to catch up.
* For some suggested reading (this is by no means exhaustive. In fact, I read all these articles just in the last few days), please see the following:
- For insight into what it means to be a devout gay Christian, read this or you can borrow my copy if you're local.
- For thoughts on business, Christianity and politics, see this.
- For thoughts on serving others while still maintaining a conservative faith, see this.
- For thoughts on the risk of not affirming gays as Christians, see this.
- For an incredible documentary on how Christians reconcile the Bible with how to treat homosexuals and the damage poorly handling that has caused, see For the Bible Tells Me So on Netflix.
I can't tell you HOW MUCH INFORMATION is available on this subject that might be counter to a literal reading of these Scriptures but if your heart has ever felt uneasy in this theology, I encourage you to listen to that and read more and talk more and listen more. This is a worthy pursuit.
As we all know, this debate style can get destructive very quickly, especially on social media. Many of my dear friends have encouraged me to stop hosting and moderating cultural conversations on Facebook, knowing that I get attacked, have false motives placed upon me, while trying desperately to avoid taking the bait. And let's face it: I've got health issues and small children to raise and when you can't sleep because you've got tears rolling down your face and thoughts racing through your wired mind, one wonders if conversation is indeed worth the trouble.
I continue on because I've become who I am (of which I'm very proud) partly through such experiences. I've honed my values through hearing many perspectives on issues of importance to me. I've always loved diversity and I want it to remain. I believe in God as Creator. I see his artistry most clearly in the diversity of mankind. But we can't live alongside people who are different from us and get along and grow as a collective society if we can't see things from another perspective. Just for a moment, we must learn to suspend our background, biases, assumptions, yes - even our faith, to try to understand what the "other" might be thinking and feeling. What would it be like to occupy their headspace, all while assigning them the same level of dignity and humanity we give to ourselves?
What does this have to do with homosexuality? If I am going to form a theology based on what I believe about homosexuals and God, I must begin by listening to homosexuals. I want to know their stories, to have them teach me about what it means to be them. This is how we are shaped, by story. And I want to be shaped. I want to be open, to hear, to change, to learn. How can I develop a theology about someone I don't know, don't love, don't value personally in my life?
This, of course, is my adulthood speaking. I grew up being told what God said about homosexuality (that it was wrong, unnatural, and its offenders were going to hell). I was raised to listen to God first and only. That everything must be seen through the lens we assign him (you better believe we assign it through our biblical interpretation) and let the chips fall where they may, regardless of how we or anyone else feels about it. This worked for me. Until I got into relationships with people outside of conservative Christianity. Once I got to know some gay people, I went back to the drawing board. It's okay to start with scripture. But if that is all that informs our beliefs, humans all around us be damned (pun sadly intended) then we might be missing something really important. Something game-changing. Something people all around us are getting beaten for, losing their lives for, walking away from God for.
If we believe that God is alive and working today, then we must admit that he is working in this generation, in this time, in our culture. Not that we assume all beliefs are therefore valid because of the time we're in, but is it possible that certain truths were veiled from humanity in a time where their implementation was not possible? What I mean is, if slavery was always wrong, but the Bible was written in a time where it was not socially possible (we had not evolved to the point to consider it) to abolish it, could it be that it addressed slavery to the level we could handle in the time the Bible was written? Meaning, rather than saying slavery was wrong (though we all agree upon that now and with solid Biblical support to that end), the Bible challenged slave owners to be kind and for slaves to serve with love. Many people used scripture to advocate that slavery was okay with God because he did not say to abolish it. And yet we look back now and call bullshit, right? I hope so.
Is it possible that homosexuality was only seen within the context of child slavery and idol worship at the time the Bible was written? Can we all agree that men should not rape little boys? I believe we can. Can we say that unprotected orgies in the name of some false god and the taking advantage of little children is probably not good for society? Yup, I can see that being constituted as "homosexual offenders" type of behavior. Perhaps that means we, as Christians should stop supporting industries that enslave and sexually traffic children? That we should worship the one true God we believe in and not have orgies with children as part of our praise time? We must learn to make distinctions between sodomizing young children in idol worship and adults who are in a committed, loving relationship who want to make a family and live in peace. The fact that this even needs to be said is appalling to me.
Is it possible that there was no concept of sexual orientation at the time the Bible was written? That we weren't ready (nor was science) to understand the nuances of gender, sex and orientation that we're aware of now? Does that mean that we've outgrown the Bible, that it's irrelevant, that we're "past" God? Or does it mean that we have permission to continue to read the Bible through a new lens, through this time, incorporating our experiences and relationships and the word of the people we're condemning before writing off an entire victimized people in the name of the God who made them exactly as they are?
My relationships with gay people up til now are all with people raised in conservative Christian circles. How do you think they felt during puberty or later when they realized they were gay? Seriously. You, heterosexual, married, Christian, think about it. HOW DID THEY FEEL? Do you think they were scared? Do you think they wished they could un-gay themselves? Do you think they tried? Do you think they felt lonely? Do you think they felt like they had a huge secret, that if they could just hide this terrible abomination, they might get to keep their faith, their family, their future and their community? If they had a choice, what do you think they would have chosen?
I don't believe being gay is a burden. I think we as a church made it a burden. Our society has made it a burden as well, though it's way ahead of the church on trying to make amends. Jesus saw people, not sins. He saw hearts. Where are our hearts? If you believe gay people are going to hell, are you upset about it? I really, really hope you are. I hope you're begging God every night to change his mind. God knows I used to.
Outside of how we interpret scripture, what do we know of the character of God? I think this is very important. If we know of God to be loving and patient, giving humanity every opportunity to turn to him and embrace the shocking love and communion he offers, why would he make people gay and then condemn them for it, with no hope of redemption? I think this is why we want so desperately for orientation to be a choice. Otherwise, God looks pretty bad, right? But if every time we ask a homosexual when they chose to be gay and they turn around and ask us when we chose to be heterosexual, we are in a bit of a conundrum.
Well, they can be celibate. Huh, okay. Let's all stand in solidarity then and say to God, while you made us beautiful, sexual and full of impulse to engage in the emotional and physical intimacy of sex (some might even say designed for it), we're all gonna boycott it. If one of us has to be celibate to please God, then I guess we all gotta be. How many of us would honestly sign up for that? Now, I know some gay Christians (no, that's not an oxymoron) feel convicted to be celibate. Go for it, peeps. Line up with the priests and nuns and be amazing individuals. Seriously. That actually IS a choice. But it's a choice made personally, not for you by people who never have to consider that as a valid option.
Well then, let them have sex but don't let them have the dignity of calling it love, marriage or family. They will always be less than God's perfect design. You know what this reminds me of, the prodigal son's older brother. Man, I used to really identify with him (before I realized I was just a regular human, rather than someone very holy, deserving and self-sacrificing). Are we stingy with the love of God? When we've worked a whole day, do we begrudge the person worked 2 hours and receives the same pay? Do we withhold the dignity of marriage and rights because we want to keep some of it for ourselves? If you want things to be fair, time to turn to a different religion, folks. God will always be more merciful than we are. And this is the crux of it for me. If I can imagine that gay people are worthy, beautiful, human and deserving, I'm pretty sure God knew it all along and was just kindly waiting for me to catch up.
* For some suggested reading (this is by no means exhaustive. In fact, I read all these articles just in the last few days), please see the following:
- For insight into what it means to be a devout gay Christian, read this or you can borrow my copy if you're local.
- For thoughts on business, Christianity and politics, see this.
- For thoughts on serving others while still maintaining a conservative faith, see this.
- For thoughts on the risk of not affirming gays as Christians, see this.
- For an incredible documentary on how Christians reconcile the Bible with how to treat homosexuals and the damage poorly handling that has caused, see For the Bible Tells Me So on Netflix.
I can't tell you HOW MUCH INFORMATION is available on this subject that might be counter to a literal reading of these Scriptures but if your heart has ever felt uneasy in this theology, I encourage you to listen to that and read more and talk more and listen more. This is a worthy pursuit.
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
Get Back in Your Box and Other Such Nonsense
One of the most difficult things for me to deal with as a woman is the social pressure to be less, smaller, quiet. I am none of those things. And while I've always cared about other peoples feelings and social pressure, I've never been those things. I am big. I am loud. I don't like to be behind the scenes. And I have lots of feelings. Unfortunately, because I am intelligent, I am often in conversations or environments where those things about me, particularly my big feelings, are treated as a liability rather than an asset. I cannot tell you how many seasons of my life I spent trying to tame the beast that is me. I tried to be quiet, to be small, to be less. I am, sadly, still given that opportunity from time to time and it is a difficult thing to resist.
And yet there is this other raging voice that comes in and wants me to burn it all to the ground. It makes me want to throw in the towel and just rage at everyone and everything that might want to correct me, change me, reason with me, disagree with me, etc. This reaction to refusing to get back into the box is normal. It's part of how we deal with a philosophical shift. We react in a big way and lean hard in the other direction. I also believe this "box stuff" is triggered by my church trauma and so being reactionary also touches on an area of grief and loss for me.
The problem with living in this world with a black and white brain is that I've come to the point in my process where my life is giving me opportunities for a middle ground. I will not get back in the box, that much is absolutely secure. And yet, can I live in community with people who are in those boxes but are not willing to get out, or who do not agree that they are a problem or who claim they love their box? Am I strong enough to resist the temptation to climb back in? Am I discrete enough that I won't jump in to their box and rip it from them? Can I respect their process?
I can't imagine that there are only a few boxes and we're all in them or out of them, but rather that each person has boxes that they stay in, burn down or reason with. So my box might work for someone else but it is bondage to me. Can I be shaped by or vulnerable with someone in my old box? I feel my life knocking on this door and I want to run so badly. I want to burn it all down. I am afraid to face those boxes, even as a stronger, more confident version of myself. I want to stop fighting growth because growth hurts and moderation is for suckers. Becoming more mature and healthier is so, so hard. I'm scared. And yet, drawing a line in the sand, and declaring "I'm done sitting in my stuff!" to the world feels like losing. I know that the more I go down this road of personal development, the more growth, joy, peace and freedom I will find. No one can put me in the box again. But being unable to be around my old boxes is just a new kind of box, isn't it? I will not let my fear dictate my life. I won't.
Friday, June 10, 2016
In the Cocoon
It's incredible how restorative 2 hours with my husband can be. We've been really busy lately juggling 2 kids, 2 jobs (his is crazy) and only 1 car. We're managing it all but it's really cutting into our time just the two of us. And we are a couple who loves time alone. As much as we love our kids and we spend a lot of time with them, there is something so restorative about climbing back into that cocoon that is us.
Because we used to do youth ministry and we stayed in our town afterwards, we get to be involved in many of our "kids" lives. And they are reaching adulthood. Many are married and have kids from our earlier years and our latter year kids are just starting down these paths. I absolutely love teens and young adults. It's such a critical time in your life, when so many decisions are made that have a huge impact on your future. As I talk our kids through these choices, I can't help but be brought back to my choices. Tim and I have been together since I was 21 and he was 23. It's unbelievable to me. I was telling him in the car today that the only reason I married him (at 23) was because of him. I wasn't necessarily ready to get married. I was not looking for a husband when we met. I was celebrating my singleness and planning my new life as an adult in Dublin.
Sometimes settling down isn't about readiness. It's about that person. I met THAT person. My nana had an epic love story and she always said, "Don't marry someone you can live with; marry someone you can't live without." And my dad always said, "Begin your adulthood. Decide what you're about, what your values are and where you want to be. And as you go along your way, look to the right or the left. One of those people is probably your future spouse." Good advice, right? Tim was that person. He was the guy I couldn't cut loose. And how much fun I had with him in the middle of the day on a Friday while he was in between shifts, with Macy at school and Penny at the neighbor's house, just reminded me that I made the right choice. I got really lucky.
I recently read an article about there not being a "right person." It's about choosing what you can tolerate. There's some truth to that. There are many people I have loved and could have easily married and I think been happy with. Care-takers are like that - flexible, adaptive. But the fact that Tim and I keep coming back to the well of our relationship and it's still providing that life-giving water, that's a gift. And it's one you don't know if you're getting when you get married or not. There's no way to know and that's crazy unfair.
My brother is totally transient, almost allergic to normalcy. And my sister had kids really young and was the only stable force in her life for a long time. She's the responsible, strong one. I'm somewhere in the middle. Committed, responsible and always leaning into freedom. Sometimes being married doesn't feel like freedom, no matter who you married, especially when you're raising two young children and you're struggling with mental health. And yet somehow, in the middle of that commitment, Tim and I create that freedom in our safe cocoon. It's wild. It's the only way I think I could have done the traditional thing of getting married and having kids without losing that wandering spirit. I don't know how this crazy gift happened, but sometimes I just hold it in wonder.
Because we used to do youth ministry and we stayed in our town afterwards, we get to be involved in many of our "kids" lives. And they are reaching adulthood. Many are married and have kids from our earlier years and our latter year kids are just starting down these paths. I absolutely love teens and young adults. It's such a critical time in your life, when so many decisions are made that have a huge impact on your future. As I talk our kids through these choices, I can't help but be brought back to my choices. Tim and I have been together since I was 21 and he was 23. It's unbelievable to me. I was telling him in the car today that the only reason I married him (at 23) was because of him. I wasn't necessarily ready to get married. I was not looking for a husband when we met. I was celebrating my singleness and planning my new life as an adult in Dublin.
Sometimes settling down isn't about readiness. It's about that person. I met THAT person. My nana had an epic love story and she always said, "Don't marry someone you can live with; marry someone you can't live without." And my dad always said, "Begin your adulthood. Decide what you're about, what your values are and where you want to be. And as you go along your way, look to the right or the left. One of those people is probably your future spouse." Good advice, right? Tim was that person. He was the guy I couldn't cut loose. And how much fun I had with him in the middle of the day on a Friday while he was in between shifts, with Macy at school and Penny at the neighbor's house, just reminded me that I made the right choice. I got really lucky.
I recently read an article about there not being a "right person." It's about choosing what you can tolerate. There's some truth to that. There are many people I have loved and could have easily married and I think been happy with. Care-takers are like that - flexible, adaptive. But the fact that Tim and I keep coming back to the well of our relationship and it's still providing that life-giving water, that's a gift. And it's one you don't know if you're getting when you get married or not. There's no way to know and that's crazy unfair.
My brother is totally transient, almost allergic to normalcy. And my sister had kids really young and was the only stable force in her life for a long time. She's the responsible, strong one. I'm somewhere in the middle. Committed, responsible and always leaning into freedom. Sometimes being married doesn't feel like freedom, no matter who you married, especially when you're raising two young children and you're struggling with mental health. And yet somehow, in the middle of that commitment, Tim and I create that freedom in our safe cocoon. It's wild. It's the only way I think I could have done the traditional thing of getting married and having kids without losing that wandering spirit. I don't know how this crazy gift happened, but sometimes I just hold it in wonder.
Monday, June 6, 2016
Modesty Culture and Sexual Repression
I'm officially a theater parent now and it is awesome. We love, love, love performance and artistic expression of any kind. The thing is, I put Macy in a Christian theater program. And even though we are Christians, we are not currently attending church and if we were to attend church, it would be a really progressive church. So, I feel a little like an impostor, though for the most part, it's been great. One of the things that isn't great is that we're dabbling back into the world of to purity culture. I knew this would be an issue for me. I choose not to laugh at the offhand remarks about teens girls and "unders" which is the term for the tight clothes all the children wear under their costumes so they can change in front of each other. No mention of boys. As part of the costume committee, I witnessed girls being so self-conscious they wanted to add to their costumes because their dress (from the 1600's, mind you) showed a small square of skin in the front (no cleavage at all). It's hard to not feel angry, not at the children but at this culture.
As an adult, I've worked intentionally to shed any shaming around my body that I learned from modesty/purity culture. This was not easy! Many of my girl friends grew up in purity culture but I don't think they took it as hard as I did because I was such a serious kid. I was the teen in a one-piece and a t-shirt! I genuinely believed that if my body was too exposed, it would harm my guy friends ability to follow Jesus. It was my responsibility to protect them from temptation. I was not about to get in their way. And while that's sweet, how incredibly harmful. And now that I think about it, it was probably why I became such a care-taking adult. It was taught to me as a spiritual value.
Through our years in youth ministry, I was required to confront teen girls about their clothing. People would whisper to me their concerns and then I was expected to be the heavy. I tried to be cool while executing this duty (I've always been more of a "good cop" even as a mother), but it was awkward. It definitely exacerbates mean girl culture when women are tasked to judge each other's clothing, especially for spiritual reasons. It creates piety. It's also wildly subjective to try to enforce a dress code (girls with certain body types get targeted). I have so many big feelings about purity culture, about how it shames women for being beautiful, how it plays into rape culture by blaming the objects of lust for being lust-able rather than the ones doing the lusting, how it cripples boys into believing they're incapable of self-control and frankly, how it sexualizes children. I don't want any part of it and I don't want my 8 year old to be taught to be self-conscious about her perfect, little girl body. And yes, I don't intend to change my stance when she gets breasts.
Once we got out of ministry, I started giving myself to permission to express myself more with clothing. I've written about art classes I've taken and that has encouraged me to identify more as the artist I've hidden. I've also tried to explore my sexuality more (which is incredibly repressed) though I haven't written about that as much as it's so personal. I might have the courage to discuss that more in the future because I know I am one of thousands who are sexually repressed because of their conservative upbringing. It's really kind of a bummer, to be honest. We were told for so long to be as asexual as possible in hopes of gaining the admiration of a godly man. And then as soon as you make a lifetime commitment to each other, you're supposed to become the exact opposite of what you were taught. Alluring, sexually available, skilled --- fully empowered. How does this happen, exactly? Your guess is as good as mine. I'm trying to engage in more sex-positive language, read more books and articles about sexuality, rape culture, feminism, etc. It's been a slow unpacking but I think it's a worthy fight, to relinquish responsibility for others' thoughts, to take back your power and to feel sexually confident. Well looky here, I guess I wrote about it. I'd love to hear anyone else's experience with purity culture. Drop me a line if you want to be heard! Maybe we'll figure some of this out as a community.
As an adult, I've worked intentionally to shed any shaming around my body that I learned from modesty/purity culture. This was not easy! Many of my girl friends grew up in purity culture but I don't think they took it as hard as I did because I was such a serious kid. I was the teen in a one-piece and a t-shirt! I genuinely believed that if my body was too exposed, it would harm my guy friends ability to follow Jesus. It was my responsibility to protect them from temptation. I was not about to get in their way. And while that's sweet, how incredibly harmful. And now that I think about it, it was probably why I became such a care-taking adult. It was taught to me as a spiritual value.
Through our years in youth ministry, I was required to confront teen girls about their clothing. People would whisper to me their concerns and then I was expected to be the heavy. I tried to be cool while executing this duty (I've always been more of a "good cop" even as a mother), but it was awkward. It definitely exacerbates mean girl culture when women are tasked to judge each other's clothing, especially for spiritual reasons. It creates piety. It's also wildly subjective to try to enforce a dress code (girls with certain body types get targeted). I have so many big feelings about purity culture, about how it shames women for being beautiful, how it plays into rape culture by blaming the objects of lust for being lust-able rather than the ones doing the lusting, how it cripples boys into believing they're incapable of self-control and frankly, how it sexualizes children. I don't want any part of it and I don't want my 8 year old to be taught to be self-conscious about her perfect, little girl body. And yes, I don't intend to change my stance when she gets breasts.
Once we got out of ministry, I started giving myself to permission to express myself more with clothing. I've written about art classes I've taken and that has encouraged me to identify more as the artist I've hidden. I've also tried to explore my sexuality more (which is incredibly repressed) though I haven't written about that as much as it's so personal. I might have the courage to discuss that more in the future because I know I am one of thousands who are sexually repressed because of their conservative upbringing. It's really kind of a bummer, to be honest. We were told for so long to be as asexual as possible in hopes of gaining the admiration of a godly man. And then as soon as you make a lifetime commitment to each other, you're supposed to become the exact opposite of what you were taught. Alluring, sexually available, skilled --- fully empowered. How does this happen, exactly? Your guess is as good as mine. I'm trying to engage in more sex-positive language, read more books and articles about sexuality, rape culture, feminism, etc. It's been a slow unpacking but I think it's a worthy fight, to relinquish responsibility for others' thoughts, to take back your power and to feel sexually confident. Well looky here, I guess I wrote about it. I'd love to hear anyone else's experience with purity culture. Drop me a line if you want to be heard! Maybe we'll figure some of this out as a community.
Tuesday, May 24, 2016
Look Past the Words and Hear the Message
Huh, so it turns out, some people really hate cursing. Like, to the point that they will read something I've written, find it compelling and then not share it publicly because I used two curse words. I'm trying to walk my brain back to when I would feel so offended by two words that it would negate the other few hundred. It's such a tricky thing for me to understand. I'm more the type to write a disclaimer and then post whatever I find compelling. And yet, there are different words that I find offensive. If an article used racial slurs or anything derogatory towards women or people who identify as LGBTQ, I can't imagine a disclaimer would suffice.
I guess I'm wondering, how important is this sacred cow, this issue of two curse words? If they were used in throw away instances, I could see why it would feel unnecessary and just crass. But the most offensive word I used in this specific post, one of the juggernauts (the "f-word") was used in reference to deporting Muslims for their religion. The act of considering electing someone who finds this to be a good solution for to our immigration issues, refugee fears and terrorism threats is so appalling to me that sometimes big words come out. Isn't it better to drop f-bombs than to round up Muslims? I think so. No, I know so. I recognize that one of my hopeful audiences has a barrier to listening past cursing and yet I'm hoping to respectfully push back that barrier to get to the bigger issues at hand. I know that I can make good points without cursing. Yet, cursing is part of how I highlight the importance of something. Ugh.
It's a delicate thing to write publicly, trying to bridge the gap between where I started and where I am now while still staying true to myself. I don't like offending people. That is ingrained in me and is a part of why I was so suited to ministry (winky face). But there's this other part of me, this voice that grows louder and frankly, more offensive. It is this voice of advocacy, this woman within who says "I don't like hurting people, so much so that I will hurt people to protect the people who are hurting more." That's an uncomfortable place for me to be. To risk offending Christians with my passion for advocating for people who might be being hurt by Christians. Hmm...I think I found my answer. If my cursing offends you, I apologize for the offense. And yet, I do not regret the place my offensive words come from and I hope to God (literally, I do not throw that around) that you can look past them if they make you cringe in order to hear the purpose they fulfill. I think there is room for us to be uncomfortable. Join me there.
I guess I'm wondering, how important is this sacred cow, this issue of two curse words? If they were used in throw away instances, I could see why it would feel unnecessary and just crass. But the most offensive word I used in this specific post, one of the juggernauts (the "f-word") was used in reference to deporting Muslims for their religion. The act of considering electing someone who finds this to be a good solution for to our immigration issues, refugee fears and terrorism threats is so appalling to me that sometimes big words come out. Isn't it better to drop f-bombs than to round up Muslims? I think so. No, I know so. I recognize that one of my hopeful audiences has a barrier to listening past cursing and yet I'm hoping to respectfully push back that barrier to get to the bigger issues at hand. I know that I can make good points without cursing. Yet, cursing is part of how I highlight the importance of something. Ugh.
It's a delicate thing to write publicly, trying to bridge the gap between where I started and where I am now while still staying true to myself. I don't like offending people. That is ingrained in me and is a part of why I was so suited to ministry (winky face). But there's this other part of me, this voice that grows louder and frankly, more offensive. It is this voice of advocacy, this woman within who says "I don't like hurting people, so much so that I will hurt people to protect the people who are hurting more." That's an uncomfortable place for me to be. To risk offending Christians with my passion for advocating for people who might be being hurt by Christians. Hmm...I think I found my answer. If my cursing offends you, I apologize for the offense. And yet, I do not regret the place my offensive words come from and I hope to God (literally, I do not throw that around) that you can look past them if they make you cringe in order to hear the purpose they fulfill. I think there is room for us to be uncomfortable. Join me there.
Tuesday, May 17, 2016
To The Mother of the Child Having a Public Tantrum...
...I see you. That moment of panic, when every nerve stands on edge. When every head in the room turns towards you to see what you're going to do. When that shrill tone pierces from your child's chest, I see you freeze. I know the sense of dread that washes over you. I've been you when raising a typical child, confidently waiting out the yelling and flailing knowing that my child was essentially being a "brat." How easy it was to cross my arms and wait it out. Because my child was just being a consumer, waiting something she could not have. My role was to stay firm and not give in. It's an easy lesson to teach, that tantrums don't give you what you want.
And now I'm you raising an emotionally delayed child, whose tantrum is a symptom of something more. Your child cannot hear you when that wire in her brain gets tripped no matter what you do or say. When your heart fills with compassion and fear and attempts again and again for your voice to be heard by your child who is spiraling into full-blown crisis. I see you floundering, trying to stay calm, trying to help her find calm. I see you unsure of how to reach your child. I see you hesitate. I see you feel ashamed that you cannot help your child in this moment, not as much as you want to.
I see your shoulders tense, your heart ache, your mind race. I see people react to your child, trying to appease her, touching her, addressing her directly - making it worse. I see them removing the trigger, escalating her fury.
I see the sheer interruption that your parenting moment brings to society around you. No one can hear each other or really ignore you, no matter how much space they wish to give you in that moment. I know that feeling of total lack of control of your life, your child, your day, your desire to stay in your location. None of that matters because you must physically remove your child from the situation. I see you abandon your cart, leave your older child hanging, your phone ringing unheard. I see you tearfully get to your car, completely exhausted for the day, whether it's evening or morning. You've been gone from the house for 20 minutes but it may as well have been forever.
And now I'm you raising an emotionally delayed child, whose tantrum is a symptom of something more. Your child cannot hear you when that wire in her brain gets tripped no matter what you do or say. When your heart fills with compassion and fear and attempts again and again for your voice to be heard by your child who is spiraling into full-blown crisis. I see you floundering, trying to stay calm, trying to help her find calm. I see you unsure of how to reach your child. I see you hesitate. I see you feel ashamed that you cannot help your child in this moment, not as much as you want to.
I see your shoulders tense, your heart ache, your mind race. I see people react to your child, trying to appease her, touching her, addressing her directly - making it worse. I see them removing the trigger, escalating her fury.
I see the sheer interruption that your parenting moment brings to society around you. No one can hear each other or really ignore you, no matter how much space they wish to give you in that moment. I know that feeling of total lack of control of your life, your child, your day, your desire to stay in your location. None of that matters because you must physically remove your child from the situation. I see you abandon your cart, leave your older child hanging, your phone ringing unheard. I see you tearfully get to your car, completely exhausted for the day, whether it's evening or morning. You've been gone from the house for 20 minutes but it may as well have been forever.
Sunday, May 15, 2016
When Christians Confront
Alrighty, it's been awhile since I spoke evangelical as a language, but I have had enough biblical training to know why Christians confront each other about their beliefs and behavior. We feel obligated to do it. We feel we belong to each other and maybe even fear that others' behavior may make us look bad. We feel entitled to share our alternate (read: better) belief and to require a behavior change or else a judgment will be made, oftentimes an eternal one. We fear for the salvation of our loved ones and would rather trample them on earth than miss them in heaven. I'm serious. I've seen people completely reject their children because of their sexual orientation "in order to save them." And lastly, I think we confront because we want to feel like we tried. Like, we don't actually expect a humble reversal of behavior (especially if our confrontation is tacky and condescending) but we want to feel like we made an effort, possibly even to maintain good feelings about ourselves.
Unfortunately, I used to issue these judgments for all of these reasons. It breaks my heart to acknowledge that truth. It can be so painful and damaging to be on the receiving end of bad Christian confrontation that I really wish I hadn't participated in it so often. Comes with the ministry baggage, sadly. I will say, anyone I can think of who I can apologize to for this behavior has come back with forgiveness and understanding. It's been affirmed that my methods may have been inconsiderate but my intentions were good. That is something. Sometimes intentions are not good and that makes this infinitely more dangerous behavior.
As I've gotten further away from the evangelical box, I've been more of a target for such confrontation. I've been fortunate for the most part. Ask anyone LGBTQ who was raised in a conservative Christian home and their stories will take you to your knees. At least they should. I know becoming more of a progressive Christian is in no way comparable to coming out experiences. But now that I'm on the other side of these confrontations more often, I have a few tips for anyone wanting to find a kinder way to do this.
1. If it can be avoided, avoid it. Meaning, please wield this sword as infrequently as possible. If this thing that bothers you about someone else's belief system is not something you consider a "salvation issue" don't even consider confronting them on it. The only exceptions to this is if this person is a very, very close friend or you work alongside each other in a church/ministry setting and it's creating a lot of conflict that needs to be addressed.
2. If you decide to confront, pray A LOT. Again, try to find a way around it. If there is no way around it, check your motives. What is your ideal outcome? How will your posturing (tone, approach, words) help you achieve your desired outcome? Humble yourself.
3. Confirm before God that YOU are the person who is best suited to confront this person. Is there someone better suited for this job? If it's not you, don't take it upon yourself to find the right person. God can take care of that himself if it's needed. I've been baffled by the lack of intimacy in relationships that are expected to bear intense confrontation. Oftentimes the most hurtful ones I've been a part of are with people who are in no way a part of my life currently and were never integral parts of my life even in the distant past. If you're concerned for someone's faith but are not CONFIDENT that you have that kind of rapport and intimacy with them, pray for someone more suited to come along. (They may have already come along, but you wouldn't know because you're not close enough to this person to be privy to that information).
4. Consider the possibility that you're wrong. Again, before confronting someone about their beliefs, consider that there may be space for disagreement in this area (not just in the church but in the world at large) or that they may have experiences or ideas you don't have that have influenced this conclusion. Is it possible that you need to consider their position? Have you ever truly considered their position?
5. Don't make assumptions. About anything. About their life, their motives, their feelings, their story. Unless you're living their story with them in an intimate relationship, know that you're walking into a situation you likely only see pieces of. Again, check your posture.
6. Assign positive intent. Without being condescending, assume that this person's beliefs and values are not intended for your harm. Assume that they aren't lost, that they may have gotten to this position deliberately, thoughtfully, dare I say, prayerfully.
7. Tread lightly or again, not at all. There's such a thing as religious trauma. If you didn't know that, log in a few Google searches to get an idea of the kind of damage unhealthy church confrontation has done to people's souls. We're confronting people about things that aren't critical and in the process, damaging them in sometimes irreparable ways. And for what? To prove a point? This should scare us all and cause us great or even permanent pause.
8. Again with posturing, assume that if you have the same background and they've changed, they already understand your position. Ask questions. Assume the position of interest and wanting to see how they got to this conclusion and see if they'd be willing to tell you (they may not be. It can be exhausting to feel like someone's liaison). Only do this if you mean it! But don't patronize someone with explaining ideology they were raised to hold. If anyone is encountering new ideas, it's probably you.
9. BE SURE that you're not doing this so you can "wash your hands of them." I have to say, I've picked up on this directed at me. It's really hurtful and selfish. Don't "witness" so you don't have to be held accountable for not saying anything. I believe we will be held accountable for all the things we say on behalf of Christ. BE SURE you know it's his posture or continue to humbly pray and offer peace. (And still do that anyway). If you're not sure, don't do it or don't drag him into it, at the very least.
10. Lastly, recognize that people just living their truth aren't looking for your feedback. It's not that they don't expect backlash if they're talking to an audience they know won't agree, but if you take people's posts hostage or seek them out to confront them while they go about their lives, you're being an ass.
Unfortunately, I used to issue these judgments for all of these reasons. It breaks my heart to acknowledge that truth. It can be so painful and damaging to be on the receiving end of bad Christian confrontation that I really wish I hadn't participated in it so often. Comes with the ministry baggage, sadly. I will say, anyone I can think of who I can apologize to for this behavior has come back with forgiveness and understanding. It's been affirmed that my methods may have been inconsiderate but my intentions were good. That is something. Sometimes intentions are not good and that makes this infinitely more dangerous behavior.
As I've gotten further away from the evangelical box, I've been more of a target for such confrontation. I've been fortunate for the most part. Ask anyone LGBTQ who was raised in a conservative Christian home and their stories will take you to your knees. At least they should. I know becoming more of a progressive Christian is in no way comparable to coming out experiences. But now that I'm on the other side of these confrontations more often, I have a few tips for anyone wanting to find a kinder way to do this.
1. If it can be avoided, avoid it. Meaning, please wield this sword as infrequently as possible. If this thing that bothers you about someone else's belief system is not something you consider a "salvation issue" don't even consider confronting them on it. The only exceptions to this is if this person is a very, very close friend or you work alongside each other in a church/ministry setting and it's creating a lot of conflict that needs to be addressed.
2. If you decide to confront, pray A LOT. Again, try to find a way around it. If there is no way around it, check your motives. What is your ideal outcome? How will your posturing (tone, approach, words) help you achieve your desired outcome? Humble yourself.
3. Confirm before God that YOU are the person who is best suited to confront this person. Is there someone better suited for this job? If it's not you, don't take it upon yourself to find the right person. God can take care of that himself if it's needed. I've been baffled by the lack of intimacy in relationships that are expected to bear intense confrontation. Oftentimes the most hurtful ones I've been a part of are with people who are in no way a part of my life currently and were never integral parts of my life even in the distant past. If you're concerned for someone's faith but are not CONFIDENT that you have that kind of rapport and intimacy with them, pray for someone more suited to come along. (They may have already come along, but you wouldn't know because you're not close enough to this person to be privy to that information).
4. Consider the possibility that you're wrong. Again, before confronting someone about their beliefs, consider that there may be space for disagreement in this area (not just in the church but in the world at large) or that they may have experiences or ideas you don't have that have influenced this conclusion. Is it possible that you need to consider their position? Have you ever truly considered their position?
5. Don't make assumptions. About anything. About their life, their motives, their feelings, their story. Unless you're living their story with them in an intimate relationship, know that you're walking into a situation you likely only see pieces of. Again, check your posture.
6. Assign positive intent. Without being condescending, assume that this person's beliefs and values are not intended for your harm. Assume that they aren't lost, that they may have gotten to this position deliberately, thoughtfully, dare I say, prayerfully.
7. Tread lightly or again, not at all. There's such a thing as religious trauma. If you didn't know that, log in a few Google searches to get an idea of the kind of damage unhealthy church confrontation has done to people's souls. We're confronting people about things that aren't critical and in the process, damaging them in sometimes irreparable ways. And for what? To prove a point? This should scare us all and cause us great or even permanent pause.
8. Again with posturing, assume that if you have the same background and they've changed, they already understand your position. Ask questions. Assume the position of interest and wanting to see how they got to this conclusion and see if they'd be willing to tell you (they may not be. It can be exhausting to feel like someone's liaison). Only do this if you mean it! But don't patronize someone with explaining ideology they were raised to hold. If anyone is encountering new ideas, it's probably you.
9. BE SURE that you're not doing this so you can "wash your hands of them." I have to say, I've picked up on this directed at me. It's really hurtful and selfish. Don't "witness" so you don't have to be held accountable for not saying anything. I believe we will be held accountable for all the things we say on behalf of Christ. BE SURE you know it's his posture or continue to humbly pray and offer peace. (And still do that anyway). If you're not sure, don't do it or don't drag him into it, at the very least.
10. Lastly, recognize that people just living their truth aren't looking for your feedback. It's not that they don't expect backlash if they're talking to an audience they know won't agree, but if you take people's posts hostage or seek them out to confront them while they go about their lives, you're being an ass.
Friday, May 13, 2016
What is My Fair Share?
I was recently told that my family is not "paying our fair share" in taxes. Sadly, this was said by someone who is really in our life and I had wrongfully assumed, understood that our circumstances of underemployment are hopefully temporary. That being said, after the shame voices faded (more than a week later), I'm ready to process the idea of what we all owe each other as a society and how we choose to "pay" it. And if we have a choice in how we give or if our contribution must be mandated.
I remember when I was in college and my ministry partner had to give the "Communion Talk" at church one Sunday. In the church of Christ tradition, we always pass the collection plate (which is viewable for all to see...never sat right with me) after we pass the crackers and juice. It was the first time I heard someone encourage people to give what they had to the community (and in this case, to God) no matter what that was. He encouraged all these college students who weren't particularly flush with cash to find other ways to give. Give your time. Give your talents. Give a listening ear. And I remember thinking, "the money guys are going to be annoyed" and "huh, that's kind of cool." Little did I know what a progressive I would become!
I was always taught that giving was financial. And obviously, that's the first way to give that comes to mind and should not be underestimated (I know you can't pay the light bill with warm fuzzies). And yet, how reductionistic is it to assume that finances are the ONLY way a family can contribute to their community (and by extension, their local and national government). Once again, my true response to what was said to me only came after I calmed down the shame voices.
This is what my true response told me.
1. My husband and I both work and both pay taxes.
2. We have our taxes returned to us and we receive a refund because I have a small business that allows me to write off expenses and because after that, we don't make a lot of money and have two dependents.
3. We don't make a lot of money on purpose. Not to leech off the government (again, hopefully we will outgrow the programs we're gratefully using) but for exactly the opposite reason. We value our community SO much that we willingly take non-profit work for poor pay in order to benefit our community. We just haven't found that "home" yet in this transition.
4. I have sold over half a million dollars worth of wellness products since I moved to this community. I've contributed to the local economy as an individual in a fairly big way and have helped an important industry grow. In turn, the building of the wellness industry has SAVED a ton of money in medical expenses. My source says for every $1 spent on wellness products, $28 are saved in medical expenses. Theoretically, I've single-handedly saved $14 million in health expenses in the last 11 years and I've done it at home with my children part-time.
5. I've chosen to be a stay-at-home parent. I believe that brings value to my children and to my community. I've been able to teach my children our values of tolerance and love at home in hopes that when I launch them into the community, they will make it better. *
I'm sure there's more. But the point is, we contribute. We matter. We've made a difference. We need to be careful how we judge someone's contribution to the community. We need to check our privilege if we've never been in their position. If we're reducing everyone's contribution to taxes paid, we've got a lot of corrupt corporations to thank for being good citizens. Let's start passing out gold stars to big pharma, big oil, Wall Street and Monsanto. Sure, these are the people poisoning our food with chemicals, sending jobs overseas, and not giving their employees livable wages but hey, the economy benefits! Thank you for your contribution.
What would happen if we expanded our view of what social contribution looks like? Yes, putting the money you can into the communal pot but also living with our hands outstretched to each other? Being willing to give our time, our energy, our resources to our neighbors on either side of us? What would it look like if the government didn't have to pry money out of our cold dead hands to help single mothers go to college and keep our roads paved and our fire stations functioning? I understand we don't trust our politicians. That is a huge and legitimate issue and I don't toss that aside easily. But, do we trust each other? Can we have enough integrity to take from the pot what is truly needed and know that there will be more if we need to come back rather than grabbing everything we can just in case? Scarcity is a real thing when you're poor so I don't mean that as a judgment. I actually mean that for those who lack compassion for the poor. By reducing our contribution to taxes, you're diminishing our value, silencing our voices and ultimately, missing out on the fullness of true community. In our obsession with money, we're actually short changing ourselves.
* I wanted to be careful with this one. While I find stay-at-home parenting worthwhile and the right choice for us, I know many women who contribute to their community and their families by doing important professional work as well as good parenting at home. This is by no means a judgement on them. I admire you.
I remember when I was in college and my ministry partner had to give the "Communion Talk" at church one Sunday. In the church of Christ tradition, we always pass the collection plate (which is viewable for all to see...never sat right with me) after we pass the crackers and juice. It was the first time I heard someone encourage people to give what they had to the community (and in this case, to God) no matter what that was. He encouraged all these college students who weren't particularly flush with cash to find other ways to give. Give your time. Give your talents. Give a listening ear. And I remember thinking, "the money guys are going to be annoyed" and "huh, that's kind of cool." Little did I know what a progressive I would become!
I was always taught that giving was financial. And obviously, that's the first way to give that comes to mind and should not be underestimated (I know you can't pay the light bill with warm fuzzies). And yet, how reductionistic is it to assume that finances are the ONLY way a family can contribute to their community (and by extension, their local and national government). Once again, my true response to what was said to me only came after I calmed down the shame voices.
This is what my true response told me.
1. My husband and I both work and both pay taxes.
2. We have our taxes returned to us and we receive a refund because I have a small business that allows me to write off expenses and because after that, we don't make a lot of money and have two dependents.
3. We don't make a lot of money on purpose. Not to leech off the government (again, hopefully we will outgrow the programs we're gratefully using) but for exactly the opposite reason. We value our community SO much that we willingly take non-profit work for poor pay in order to benefit our community. We just haven't found that "home" yet in this transition.
4. I have sold over half a million dollars worth of wellness products since I moved to this community. I've contributed to the local economy as an individual in a fairly big way and have helped an important industry grow. In turn, the building of the wellness industry has SAVED a ton of money in medical expenses. My source says for every $1 spent on wellness products, $28 are saved in medical expenses. Theoretically, I've single-handedly saved $14 million in health expenses in the last 11 years and I've done it at home with my children part-time.
5. I've chosen to be a stay-at-home parent. I believe that brings value to my children and to my community. I've been able to teach my children our values of tolerance and love at home in hopes that when I launch them into the community, they will make it better. *
I'm sure there's more. But the point is, we contribute. We matter. We've made a difference. We need to be careful how we judge someone's contribution to the community. We need to check our privilege if we've never been in their position. If we're reducing everyone's contribution to taxes paid, we've got a lot of corrupt corporations to thank for being good citizens. Let's start passing out gold stars to big pharma, big oil, Wall Street and Monsanto. Sure, these are the people poisoning our food with chemicals, sending jobs overseas, and not giving their employees livable wages but hey, the economy benefits! Thank you for your contribution.
What would happen if we expanded our view of what social contribution looks like? Yes, putting the money you can into the communal pot but also living with our hands outstretched to each other? Being willing to give our time, our energy, our resources to our neighbors on either side of us? What would it look like if the government didn't have to pry money out of our cold dead hands to help single mothers go to college and keep our roads paved and our fire stations functioning? I understand we don't trust our politicians. That is a huge and legitimate issue and I don't toss that aside easily. But, do we trust each other? Can we have enough integrity to take from the pot what is truly needed and know that there will be more if we need to come back rather than grabbing everything we can just in case? Scarcity is a real thing when you're poor so I don't mean that as a judgment. I actually mean that for those who lack compassion for the poor. By reducing our contribution to taxes, you're diminishing our value, silencing our voices and ultimately, missing out on the fullness of true community. In our obsession with money, we're actually short changing ourselves.
* I wanted to be careful with this one. While I find stay-at-home parenting worthwhile and the right choice for us, I know many women who contribute to their community and their families by doing important professional work as well as good parenting at home. This is by no means a judgement on them. I admire you.
Thursday, May 12, 2016
Separation is Hard
I like to think of myself as a pretty chill parent. I let my kids lead for the most part. We still set boundaries with our children, as you should in any relationship, but I don't have a lot of actual "rules", more like rituals. Anyway, because of the whole one less car issue, I made the executive decision to have Macy ride the bus to school for the rest of the year. She's changing school next year (for exciting reasons I'm sure I'll talk about some other time!) and we are required to drive her there. So this is clearly a 5ish week change. But my darling daughter is me to a tee. She resists change. When I mentioned to her that it was a real possibility, she was upset. We were walking home from school and she essentially raced away and walked home without me. I figured she needed time to process her feelings and wasn't surprised. We had a bus incident (I'm sure it'll come up here eventually) when she was in kindergarten that I had in the back of my mind to revisit so she doesn't have issues with independence in this area and karma intervened. Here we are, taking the bus.
So we're confronting some past trauma for both of us. We're also making an unexpected change and not really by choice. We're cutting into the precious Macy/Mommy time we have each morning and both of us share Quality Time as our primary love language. And yet, once Daddy explained through the emotional haze that this was a necessary step for all of us (it's really the safest, best choice for the family with one vehicle right now) and that sometimes being in a family means doing things that we don't want to do. Personal sacrifice is part of community and that's an important lesson (one I'm still really wrestling with on the church level) to learn.
Once I realized that on top of feeling like there's too much change for her (new school next year and getting glasses) that Macy's primary concern was not having as much time with me, I determined that I would get up earlier and make her lunch the night before. Of course, we were ready way early and rather than read together, which I was fully expecting, Macy was ready to skip to the curb and wait for the bus for TWENTY minutes. That kid. This, she also gets from me. Once the change is determined, you face it with gusto. We chatted with the neighbor boys and got the skinny on where to sit (and apparently where NOT to sit. Bus politics have not changed, my friends) and I introduced her to the bus driver.
I came home feeling sad and relieved. This time is different. When you revisit something that was scary, the fears start talking and shame voices gain traction. Sadness or grief pay a visit. If you don't know the word for this type of experience, it's called "triggering." I'm mostly nostalgic that my little girl is growing up and I'm proud of myself for making a hard decision that's still the right one for the whole family. Sometimes my perfectionist brain thinks that what is best for the whole family might harm the individual (this is a theme for me from the trauma of our post-partum depression experience). And sometimes, that's true. But in this case, I believe this is also what's best for Macy. If we can still get her need for quality time met, she will gain confidence and independence through this that will help prepare her to change schools in the fall. I guess all of that is to say, it's okay that "normal" adjustments are hard for you. I know so many people who don't bat an eye at this type of change and probably think I'm silly for feeling all the feels. But I do. Perhaps because I have so many feelings, it has made me the right mom for the daughter who is just the same.
So we're confronting some past trauma for both of us. We're also making an unexpected change and not really by choice. We're cutting into the precious Macy/Mommy time we have each morning and both of us share Quality Time as our primary love language. And yet, once Daddy explained through the emotional haze that this was a necessary step for all of us (it's really the safest, best choice for the family with one vehicle right now) and that sometimes being in a family means doing things that we don't want to do. Personal sacrifice is part of community and that's an important lesson (one I'm still really wrestling with on the church level) to learn.
 |
| Waiting patiently for me to return after a potty break. 20 minutes, people! |
 |
| Lots of roadside hugs |
Tuesday, May 10, 2016
And Then The Car Died
I've been careful to veil our current employment situation as a family on this blog because it's not specifically my story to tell, though under-employment is very difficult for a family dynamic and I am definitely affected by our current situation. As a normal person, I've largely filtered our "season" (God, I hope it ends soon) of part-time, multiple-job employment through my personal experience of it. As I was reviewing my husband's resume adjustments today per his request, I got another peek into what he's going through in this process. We're both going through a lot but it's largely different for a lot of reasons. Seeing through his lens of challenges today, I was reminded of just the level of confidence projection required during the process of job hunting. It's too much. And the longer you go without full-time work, the more exhausted and discouraged you are (the notion that poor people are lazy is laughable, unless they really just aren't willing to work. It's so much harder to work several crappy jobs without stability).
No matter how suited you are for a specific job, just to get in the door, you're jumping through invisible hoops that leave you guessing. You don't know if the job posted is really available or if it's posted per some requirement though they already have someone in mind for the position and this posting is really just for looks. You don't know how many applicants they have. You often don't know even the salary being offered. You don't know what their hiring process is, how many interviews you will go through or if you will get called at all. All you know is, you need a job. Many of the jobs you are applying for are well within your wheelhouse of experience and capability and yet, no job. Sometimes no response, even. Some of these jobs are well below your capacity and still, no job.
It's a very strange dance you do with personal potential, financial obligations, dreams, strangers unspoken expectations and time, so much time. We would all do well when eliminating people from their jobs to acknowledge that it can take the better part of a very difficult year to replace a job. It may be worse paying. We have consistently made less money per job he's taken since we got married. This is the world we're living in. I know people don't want to talk about politics, but I also think sometimes people aren't aware of what things are really like "out there" if they haven't been in this position for awhile. Once Tim started working, even part-time without receiving his first check, we lost our unemployment money. And that money is only half of your original income, so it's not even paying your bills at that point.
I don't write these things to complain. We're ok for today and sometimes that has to be enough. We've made some deliberate choices about our lifestyle, what we're willing to give up and what we're not (unless truly forced). We desperately want to make a difference in our community through work and that leads us frequently to low-paying jobs. That is something we're comfortable with. So again, this isn't about "poor me" as much as it is about the low points of an extended job search and how hard it is to wait for something to change. Tim's car died this weekend. Ironic how I was all braggy about our old cars in my last post :) Unfortunately, a lot of our options for him to pick up cash once the school year is over involves having a vehicle. We're weighing our options and unfortunately, that long rope we started with is getting shorter. Sometimes you really need to see that light at the end of the tunnel. Believe me, I'm squinting. I'm looking for it. I really hope it's there.
No matter how suited you are for a specific job, just to get in the door, you're jumping through invisible hoops that leave you guessing. You don't know if the job posted is really available or if it's posted per some requirement though they already have someone in mind for the position and this posting is really just for looks. You don't know how many applicants they have. You often don't know even the salary being offered. You don't know what their hiring process is, how many interviews you will go through or if you will get called at all. All you know is, you need a job. Many of the jobs you are applying for are well within your wheelhouse of experience and capability and yet, no job. Sometimes no response, even. Some of these jobs are well below your capacity and still, no job.
It's a very strange dance you do with personal potential, financial obligations, dreams, strangers unspoken expectations and time, so much time. We would all do well when eliminating people from their jobs to acknowledge that it can take the better part of a very difficult year to replace a job. It may be worse paying. We have consistently made less money per job he's taken since we got married. This is the world we're living in. I know people don't want to talk about politics, but I also think sometimes people aren't aware of what things are really like "out there" if they haven't been in this position for awhile. Once Tim started working, even part-time without receiving his first check, we lost our unemployment money. And that money is only half of your original income, so it's not even paying your bills at that point.
I don't write these things to complain. We're ok for today and sometimes that has to be enough. We've made some deliberate choices about our lifestyle, what we're willing to give up and what we're not (unless truly forced). We desperately want to make a difference in our community through work and that leads us frequently to low-paying jobs. That is something we're comfortable with. So again, this isn't about "poor me" as much as it is about the low points of an extended job search and how hard it is to wait for something to change. Tim's car died this weekend. Ironic how I was all braggy about our old cars in my last post :) Unfortunately, a lot of our options for him to pick up cash once the school year is over involves having a vehicle. We're weighing our options and unfortunately, that long rope we started with is getting shorter. Sometimes you really need to see that light at the end of the tunnel. Believe me, I'm squinting. I'm looking for it. I really hope it's there.
Friday, May 6, 2016
When Facebook Makes Me Cry
It all started when I made the mistake of posting something political on my Facebook page. I've been known to talk about human rights quite a bit but my political posts have been veiled until now. Politics don't bring out the best in humanity and I have a hard time not getting sucked into it. My emotions get strong. My feelings get hurt. Let's face it: I get mean. I become flabbergasted by both the ignorance and the total lack of compassion that this brings out in people. People whom I know I disagree with fundamentally, but to whom I hope to extend an olive branch and listen to with an open mind.
I was already having a bad day. Penny was having one of those almost 3 year old mornings where she thought it was hilarious to do everything the opposite way from which I was asking her. It was exacerbated by the fact that we were in public the whole morning. I have a particularly hard time not feeling flustered when I feel like people are watching how I react to my child when she's being "persnickety." I felt emotionally exhausted. I felt overwhelmed by my child's inability to go with the flow. I felt isolated because every parent around us was interacting with their child in a way that looked a lot more simple and easy than what I was dealing with all morning.
Then I logged onto my page and saw the "conversation" that unfolded, and continued to unfold throughout the day. Articles being thrown at me (to which I threw articles back...like I said, I was having a bad day). My work ethic called into question. Then my privilege. Then my greed. I start to get sucked in. The words are rising in my throat. I'm tempted to talk about the 18 year old car I've been driving for 15 years or how my husband I have can live on less than $40,000 a year as a family of 4 because we're so careful with money. I want to talk about our 2 bachelor's degrees that aren't putting us to work. I want to explain how we choose to live small because that's one of our essential values. I almost blurt out about how low our mortgage payment is because we played it very conservative when we got into the market 11 years ago and have never been tempted to "upgrade" from our "starter house." I start to get angry as I think about my husband getting up at 5:30 every morning working 2 jobs and how we still can't provide for ourselves without the government programs we're gratefully using because he's been looking for full-time work for 7 months and counting with no success. I want to talk about my small business that keeps my child out of daycare (fewer expenses!) giving us a 3rd income while doing what we believe is best for our child (this is not a judgment, this is actually what we believe about our specific child). I understand what it means to create something from nothing, to generate income from thin air. I understand the amount of motivation and drive it takes to work alone with a 2 year old in tow. I really, really do.
I want to scream out that this is about us, yes, but the video I posted was about justice for all, access to quality education for all families, races, and socio-economic levels. How could this message of hope get twisted into laziness, self-interest and greed? I want to weep. In fact, I have.
I've written about taming this beast, this rising voice of self-defense. This is not a new process for me. I have a strong sense of justice and it can make me a bit of a beast. I choose to call it advocacy :) But maybe I haven't given a full voice to the demons, the moment the words of shame come pouring in, the pain and horror that unkind words do when they come into your home on a bad day. I get it; politics are tough. And maybe this is my cue to bow out. Shit's gettin' ugly, people.
I know I will require an extra dose of self-care after today's events. And my skin isn't very thick.
But I don't want to silence my voice (though I may need to do some unfriending). I know there's a benefit in putting a face to an ideology (granted, I thought my face would receive more respect than it was given today, but the world isn't as kind as I believe. I already knew that) and I'm not ashamed of my beliefs. I believe people need access to health care. I believe that all the poor kids should be fed and educated and have secure housing. I believe books should be in every home. I believe people should be able to fulfill their potential whether they were born in the country club or the ghetto. I believe people want to work and to find something worthwhile and fulfilling to do with their lives. I believe people who do good work, like teach our children, should also be able to have a comfortable retirement. And God help us, I believe people of all races and religions should be free and embraced in this country, not rounded up like a bunch of fucking terrorists.
I believe in kindness. I do. If I'm not the best economist, ok. I'm cool with that. Let's let the economists put their beautiful brains to work. But what I do know is I will not be silenced. I will not bow down in worship to the almighty hate. I won't do it. So hate my government program-loving heart if you must. But know that I love my beliefs and those who hold them with integrity and with my own integrity fully intact. You don't have to agree with it. But you damn well better respect it. And I will do my best to respect our differences and above all, to temper my passion with kindness. And now if you'll excuse me, I gotta go log off Facebook for some much needed R & R.
I was already having a bad day. Penny was having one of those almost 3 year old mornings where she thought it was hilarious to do everything the opposite way from which I was asking her. It was exacerbated by the fact that we were in public the whole morning. I have a particularly hard time not feeling flustered when I feel like people are watching how I react to my child when she's being "persnickety." I felt emotionally exhausted. I felt overwhelmed by my child's inability to go with the flow. I felt isolated because every parent around us was interacting with their child in a way that looked a lot more simple and easy than what I was dealing with all morning.
Then I logged onto my page and saw the "conversation" that unfolded, and continued to unfold throughout the day. Articles being thrown at me (to which I threw articles back...like I said, I was having a bad day). My work ethic called into question. Then my privilege. Then my greed. I start to get sucked in. The words are rising in my throat. I'm tempted to talk about the 18 year old car I've been driving for 15 years or how my husband I have can live on less than $40,000 a year as a family of 4 because we're so careful with money. I want to talk about our 2 bachelor's degrees that aren't putting us to work. I want to explain how we choose to live small because that's one of our essential values. I almost blurt out about how low our mortgage payment is because we played it very conservative when we got into the market 11 years ago and have never been tempted to "upgrade" from our "starter house." I start to get angry as I think about my husband getting up at 5:30 every morning working 2 jobs and how we still can't provide for ourselves without the government programs we're gratefully using because he's been looking for full-time work for 7 months and counting with no success. I want to talk about my small business that keeps my child out of daycare (fewer expenses!) giving us a 3rd income while doing what we believe is best for our child (this is not a judgment, this is actually what we believe about our specific child). I understand what it means to create something from nothing, to generate income from thin air. I understand the amount of motivation and drive it takes to work alone with a 2 year old in tow. I really, really do.
I want to scream out that this is about us, yes, but the video I posted was about justice for all, access to quality education for all families, races, and socio-economic levels. How could this message of hope get twisted into laziness, self-interest and greed? I want to weep. In fact, I have.
I've written about taming this beast, this rising voice of self-defense. This is not a new process for me. I have a strong sense of justice and it can make me a bit of a beast. I choose to call it advocacy :) But maybe I haven't given a full voice to the demons, the moment the words of shame come pouring in, the pain and horror that unkind words do when they come into your home on a bad day. I get it; politics are tough. And maybe this is my cue to bow out. Shit's gettin' ugly, people.
I know I will require an extra dose of self-care after today's events. And my skin isn't very thick.
But I don't want to silence my voice (though I may need to do some unfriending). I know there's a benefit in putting a face to an ideology (granted, I thought my face would receive more respect than it was given today, but the world isn't as kind as I believe. I already knew that) and I'm not ashamed of my beliefs. I believe people need access to health care. I believe that all the poor kids should be fed and educated and have secure housing. I believe books should be in every home. I believe people should be able to fulfill their potential whether they were born in the country club or the ghetto. I believe people want to work and to find something worthwhile and fulfilling to do with their lives. I believe people who do good work, like teach our children, should also be able to have a comfortable retirement. And God help us, I believe people of all races and religions should be free and embraced in this country, not rounded up like a bunch of fucking terrorists.
I believe in kindness. I do. If I'm not the best economist, ok. I'm cool with that. Let's let the economists put their beautiful brains to work. But what I do know is I will not be silenced. I will not bow down in worship to the almighty hate. I won't do it. So hate my government program-loving heart if you must. But know that I love my beliefs and those who hold them with integrity and with my own integrity fully intact. You don't have to agree with it. But you damn well better respect it. And I will do my best to respect our differences and above all, to temper my passion with kindness. And now if you'll excuse me, I gotta go log off Facebook for some much needed R & R.
Monday, April 25, 2016
When Daddy Takes the Reins
It's such a strange thing to get married. I remember when Tim and I were in our premarital counseling and one of the books we were reading said that behavior before marriage is no indication of behavior after marriage. What, WHAT? That was reassuring! I was a bit of a basket-case throughout our engagement. I knew marriage was forever and that I couldn't and shouldn't try to change my spouse so I was trying to keep my eyes wide open about who this man was and if I could commit to love everything about him, with unconditional acceptance. As you can imagine, Tim was cool as a cucumber. Completely confident. So confident in fact that as he was proposing, he handed me a Bible with his last name engraved on it next to my first name. I was going to be his wife. It sounds kinda douchy when I put it like that, but it didn't come across that way. He was just 100% sure of me, of us, of forever. It was weird and sweet and probably a big part of what gave me the confidence to walk down the aisle that day.
If pre-marital behavior is no indication of post-marital behavior, you can imagine how much of a risk it is to become a parent with your spouse. Getting married is about the two of you, a cementing of a relationship that you've already been building for awhile. Becoming parents is a real and total crapshoot. You really have no idea what kind of parent you'll be, regardless of how much babysitting you've done. There's just no way to really be prepared. It's such a huge transition for both people and changes so much of who you are. And depending on the child you have and the circumstances you're in, you continually get shaped as you parent your child who is in a constant state of transition as well.
I was confident Tim would be a good dad. He was always great with kids when we were around them. He was a youth minister, so he obviously had great rapport with teens. I was sheltered as a kid and he grew up in a much more diverse neighborhood. So what I lacked in street smarts, he had in spades. I thought we'd be a good team, as I had more experience with young kids and he was so good with older kids.
He and I have so many shared interests and talents but we have completely different personalities. We've found that if we're out of balance, our kids aren't getting the full advantage that we bring when we share the load of parenting well. If I'm leaning in too hard, our kids don't get pushed. If he's leaning in too hard, our kids don't receive enough coddling. It's a balance and I feel our kids are pretty lucky to have us, if I do say so myself.
One of the things both of our children hated as toddlers (which is where Penny's at right now) is having their hair washed. As the stay-at-home parent, many of our regular parenting responsibilities fall to me, but once Tim is home, it's all-hands-on-deck. It's always been that way. Some of my friends are basically single parents with a husband roommate. Her responsibilities don't shift into co-parenting when daddy gets home. It's almost like it doesn't matter if he's there or not. It's baffling to us and I don't understand how that works. People are always praising Tim for being an engaged father and/or telling me how lucky I am. While those things are true, I always thought it was harmful to the child and the father (or the non-primary parent) when one parent shoulders the full parental responsibility unnecessarily (I say unnecessarily in this case because of course, many single parents don't have a choice in this matter and are awesome warriors for their kids in having to essentially fulfill two peoples' worth of work). So for us, it's not so much that "we're so lucky" (though I know we are) but more of a "this is what is best for our children."
Because of this dynamic, Tim has washed his fair share of screaming toddlers. And as I've illustrated, Penny has some things going on in her development that can make these kinds of things particularly difficult. My strategy is to avoid bathing them as much as possible and then when it's necessary, bathe them in 30 seconds flat and get them the heck out of there. Tim's approach is different. The other night while Penny was howling for me, Tim very patiently bathed her for about 15 minutes. He soothed her. He never lost his cool. He engaged her in play. Any time she would start to get worked up, he'd catch her before she got too far down the emotional path of full tantrum. He tried to give her an experience that wasn't traumatic and re-enforcing her hatred of getting her hair washed. In his mind, if she starts to rack up positive hair-washing experiences, eventually she'll grow out of her fear. Pretty genius, right?
I sat in the hallway where she couldn't see me but where he knew I was present, supporting him in his process and available if needed. While my heart wanted to push him out of the way and pull her out of there, this was one of those moments (there are many) where I need to back the fuck off and let him be a dad. And it is to the full benefit of my child, let me tell you. It was just so incredibly precious to hear them sharing this experience. While I was sweating bullets, he remained present in the storm with her.
He's the parent that stays the course when things get hard. I want to cut our losses and take it to the professionals or stop altogether and Tim is the one who can tune out the chaos and do what's best for our children in that moment. Sometimes that looks like continually fishing that splinter out while Macy howls in fear. Sometimes that's washing Penny's hair while speaking soothingly to her and taking his time. He's the one who gives Penny many opportunities to take a bite of her dinner, when I would have given up after 3 tries. Granted, sometimes you have to cut your losses and that's where the balance of he and I come in. I'm much more likely to let my children lead. But sometimes they need a parent to lead them. And that's where daddy comes in, showing our kids that scary things can be faced and can be overcome with our help. And I could not be more proud and grateful to have been able to carry this man's children and to share this tremendous responsibility with him.
If pre-marital behavior is no indication of post-marital behavior, you can imagine how much of a risk it is to become a parent with your spouse. Getting married is about the two of you, a cementing of a relationship that you've already been building for awhile. Becoming parents is a real and total crapshoot. You really have no idea what kind of parent you'll be, regardless of how much babysitting you've done. There's just no way to really be prepared. It's such a huge transition for both people and changes so much of who you are. And depending on the child you have and the circumstances you're in, you continually get shaped as you parent your child who is in a constant state of transition as well.
I was confident Tim would be a good dad. He was always great with kids when we were around them. He was a youth minister, so he obviously had great rapport with teens. I was sheltered as a kid and he grew up in a much more diverse neighborhood. So what I lacked in street smarts, he had in spades. I thought we'd be a good team, as I had more experience with young kids and he was so good with older kids.
He and I have so many shared interests and talents but we have completely different personalities. We've found that if we're out of balance, our kids aren't getting the full advantage that we bring when we share the load of parenting well. If I'm leaning in too hard, our kids don't get pushed. If he's leaning in too hard, our kids don't receive enough coddling. It's a balance and I feel our kids are pretty lucky to have us, if I do say so myself.
One of the things both of our children hated as toddlers (which is where Penny's at right now) is having their hair washed. As the stay-at-home parent, many of our regular parenting responsibilities fall to me, but once Tim is home, it's all-hands-on-deck. It's always been that way. Some of my friends are basically single parents with a husband roommate. Her responsibilities don't shift into co-parenting when daddy gets home. It's almost like it doesn't matter if he's there or not. It's baffling to us and I don't understand how that works. People are always praising Tim for being an engaged father and/or telling me how lucky I am. While those things are true, I always thought it was harmful to the child and the father (or the non-primary parent) when one parent shoulders the full parental responsibility unnecessarily (I say unnecessarily in this case because of course, many single parents don't have a choice in this matter and are awesome warriors for their kids in having to essentially fulfill two peoples' worth of work). So for us, it's not so much that "we're so lucky" (though I know we are) but more of a "this is what is best for our children."
Because of this dynamic, Tim has washed his fair share of screaming toddlers. And as I've illustrated, Penny has some things going on in her development that can make these kinds of things particularly difficult. My strategy is to avoid bathing them as much as possible and then when it's necessary, bathe them in 30 seconds flat and get them the heck out of there. Tim's approach is different. The other night while Penny was howling for me, Tim very patiently bathed her for about 15 minutes. He soothed her. He never lost his cool. He engaged her in play. Any time she would start to get worked up, he'd catch her before she got too far down the emotional path of full tantrum. He tried to give her an experience that wasn't traumatic and re-enforcing her hatred of getting her hair washed. In his mind, if she starts to rack up positive hair-washing experiences, eventually she'll grow out of her fear. Pretty genius, right?
I sat in the hallway where she couldn't see me but where he knew I was present, supporting him in his process and available if needed. While my heart wanted to push him out of the way and pull her out of there, this was one of those moments (there are many) where I need to back the fuck off and let him be a dad. And it is to the full benefit of my child, let me tell you. It was just so incredibly precious to hear them sharing this experience. While I was sweating bullets, he remained present in the storm with her.
He's the parent that stays the course when things get hard. I want to cut our losses and take it to the professionals or stop altogether and Tim is the one who can tune out the chaos and do what's best for our children in that moment. Sometimes that looks like continually fishing that splinter out while Macy howls in fear. Sometimes that's washing Penny's hair while speaking soothingly to her and taking his time. He's the one who gives Penny many opportunities to take a bite of her dinner, when I would have given up after 3 tries. Granted, sometimes you have to cut your losses and that's where the balance of he and I come in. I'm much more likely to let my children lead. But sometimes they need a parent to lead them. And that's where daddy comes in, showing our kids that scary things can be faced and can be overcome with our help. And I could not be more proud and grateful to have been able to carry this man's children and to share this tremendous responsibility with him.
Friday, April 22, 2016
Is My Child Ok and Other Such Fears
I feel like I have a list of things that I need to process. They relate to many areas of my life and they all drain me emotionally as my life and/or my deliberate avoidance hits the snooze button on sitting in these feelings. One of the things on my proverbial list of things that require a journal entry and possibly some tears is my continual evolution as a mother. In particular, we're at the tail end of a long process of developmental screening for my 2 year old, Penny. As a caretaker, particularly because I've had the strange fortune of essentially raising my two daughters one at a time (Macy started kindergarten 3 weeks after Penny was born, so I'm getting 5 years of one-on-one time of life preparation with each of them before they launch into full-time school), I am good at adapting to my children. This means that I can accommodate their preferences and personalities and mold our daily patterns around what suits them best and for the most part, I'm happy if they're happy. (This is also what makes me a fabulous world traveler, if we're bragging here). My daughters are really different so it was interesting for me to approach parenting Penny in a new way. It's also been 5 years and she's a second kid, so I've changed a ton as a person as well as a mother.
Penny is a really unique kid. She can be so stinking charming. And she can be incredibly intolerant of anything she does not consent to or like. She wasn't an early talker and was frustrated often by that as well as by life in general for awhile there. Things have opened up for her as she's gotten more comfortable socially and better able communicate with words (she was always communicating but the screams didn't go over as well as her words do now:) That being said, I know how to be a buffer for her in stressful social situations, when she's tired or hungry and when her toddler-esque language requires translating. Macy did not require such a buffer (as much) and was more independent socially. It's amazing what you get used to as a parent as you adjust to your child and whatever life requires of you to be what they need. Just ask a post-partum mother who's up nursing every 2 hours for months on end. It sucks. But you can get used to it. It's wild, really, what becomes normal. And then the phase ends and you back and think "how the hell did I do that?" You just did.
As was out in the world with my charming grouch, I began to see which aspects of Penny's development were "normal" and which aspects might be more atypical. I'm perfectly fine to be raising a non-conformist and don't feel the need to use her behavior to make me look good. Sure, sometimes it's emotionally tiring to deal with moments where your child is behaving in a way that doesn't give you positive attention from strangers, but I don't let that dictate my parenting. I just let that give me permission to increase my self-care on those days (and by "self-care" I mean "chocolate intake"). And so I began the process of developmental screenings. Because ultimately, the mommy buffer must stand down at some point and in the meantime, I'd like professional guidance on how to buffer best. And boy, it's a lot of screening! They check fine motor, gross motor, adaptive, speech, social/emotional and sensory skills. This required me to sit on my couch and watch strangers test my child. So many moments I wanted to jump in and explain, rephrase, or just stop the testing. It is so incredibly vulnerable to have your child's abilities be ascertained and placed on a bell curve. How reductionistic to see this magical person be graphed based on the average of her peers! I felt like I was being tested, that if she couldn't answer a question it was because I hadn't asked it, that her potential to be typical rested in my ability to draw her potential out. (This is a really fun experience for a caretaking perfectionist, by the way. I highly recommend cancelling your next vacation and calling up the early intervention people. You won't be sorry!) And while I knew these things weren't true, that she would be her no matter what hoops I jump though, it was very emotional for me to sit back and allow her to be assessed so thoroughly and by such capable professionals. You can't pull one over on these people!
And as you can imagine, having the sit down after all the tallying has been done and being presented with reams of information about your child is difficult. How can anyone tell me anything about my child that I don't already know? Who are you to explain my child to me? (The professionals through this process have been incredibly gracious and kind. These are just the big feelings the process unearthed.) And what do they have to tell me? What is possible and maybe impossible for my child's future based on the information within these reams of paper? If I burn them up, is the information still true? I'm not going to get into the details of Penny's results because this blog is about me (also why I haven't written much about my husband's job loss and season of part-time employment) but it all came down to this moment. At the end of her initial assessment, the two professionals asked me, "Ultimately, what are your goals through this process? What do you want to see for Penny?" And I said, "You know what? There are behaviors about living with Penny that have been difficult to parent. There are things we'd like to work on. But really, what I want for my child is to reach her full potential as a person, whatever that is. I believe that she will show me that. And I just want the tools to help her be that person. I want to know if my expectations of her are fair. I want to know when and how to accommodate her and I want to know when and how far to push her. Because the world will not accommodate her once she's on her own. I want to build her up and then I want to send her out as prepared for whatever lies ahead as best as I possibly can. And she will take that and do with it what she will. I want to know how to support her and to be whatever she needs however she needs it." And if that isn't motherhood, I don't know what is.
Penny is a really unique kid. She can be so stinking charming. And she can be incredibly intolerant of anything she does not consent to or like. She wasn't an early talker and was frustrated often by that as well as by life in general for awhile there. Things have opened up for her as she's gotten more comfortable socially and better able communicate with words (she was always communicating but the screams didn't go over as well as her words do now:) That being said, I know how to be a buffer for her in stressful social situations, when she's tired or hungry and when her toddler-esque language requires translating. Macy did not require such a buffer (as much) and was more independent socially. It's amazing what you get used to as a parent as you adjust to your child and whatever life requires of you to be what they need. Just ask a post-partum mother who's up nursing every 2 hours for months on end. It sucks. But you can get used to it. It's wild, really, what becomes normal. And then the phase ends and you back and think "how the hell did I do that?" You just did.
As was out in the world with my charming grouch, I began to see which aspects of Penny's development were "normal" and which aspects might be more atypical. I'm perfectly fine to be raising a non-conformist and don't feel the need to use her behavior to make me look good. Sure, sometimes it's emotionally tiring to deal with moments where your child is behaving in a way that doesn't give you positive attention from strangers, but I don't let that dictate my parenting. I just let that give me permission to increase my self-care on those days (and by "self-care" I mean "chocolate intake"). And so I began the process of developmental screenings. Because ultimately, the mommy buffer must stand down at some point and in the meantime, I'd like professional guidance on how to buffer best. And boy, it's a lot of screening! They check fine motor, gross motor, adaptive, speech, social/emotional and sensory skills. This required me to sit on my couch and watch strangers test my child. So many moments I wanted to jump in and explain, rephrase, or just stop the testing. It is so incredibly vulnerable to have your child's abilities be ascertained and placed on a bell curve. How reductionistic to see this magical person be graphed based on the average of her peers! I felt like I was being tested, that if she couldn't answer a question it was because I hadn't asked it, that her potential to be typical rested in my ability to draw her potential out. (This is a really fun experience for a caretaking perfectionist, by the way. I highly recommend cancelling your next vacation and calling up the early intervention people. You won't be sorry!) And while I knew these things weren't true, that she would be her no matter what hoops I jump though, it was very emotional for me to sit back and allow her to be assessed so thoroughly and by such capable professionals. You can't pull one over on these people!
And as you can imagine, having the sit down after all the tallying has been done and being presented with reams of information about your child is difficult. How can anyone tell me anything about my child that I don't already know? Who are you to explain my child to me? (The professionals through this process have been incredibly gracious and kind. These are just the big feelings the process unearthed.) And what do they have to tell me? What is possible and maybe impossible for my child's future based on the information within these reams of paper? If I burn them up, is the information still true? I'm not going to get into the details of Penny's results because this blog is about me (also why I haven't written much about my husband's job loss and season of part-time employment) but it all came down to this moment. At the end of her initial assessment, the two professionals asked me, "Ultimately, what are your goals through this process? What do you want to see for Penny?" And I said, "You know what? There are behaviors about living with Penny that have been difficult to parent. There are things we'd like to work on. But really, what I want for my child is to reach her full potential as a person, whatever that is. I believe that she will show me that. And I just want the tools to help her be that person. I want to know if my expectations of her are fair. I want to know when and how to accommodate her and I want to know when and how far to push her. Because the world will not accommodate her once she's on her own. I want to build her up and then I want to send her out as prepared for whatever lies ahead as best as I possibly can. And she will take that and do with it what she will. I want to know how to support her and to be whatever she needs however she needs it." And if that isn't motherhood, I don't know what is.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)