I've been thinking about this post for a long while. The things my mother taught me are both so simple and so formative. Most important things in life are. It isn't the big, huge once-in-a-lifetime things that make up the stuff of life, but the small every day things.
It's so cliche to say that she taught me to work hard. But she really, really did...from weeding the garden to shoveling snow, my mama did it all. She wasn't afraid to dive into a room that needed to be cleaned at school or a pile of paperwork in the office, either. She taught me to do what needs to be done, no complaining. I'm afraid I've moved away from that lesson as I've gotten older...being now somewhat more inclined to procrastination and whining.
My mother also taught me storage solutions for small houses and how to minimize clutter without throwing all the fun stuff away. She new how to keep games and craft projects and her favorite coffee mug without all the little stuff cluttering up the house. Maybe this is more about knowing what really matters and getting rid of the stuff that doesn't. But, you know, you can keep the favorite mug that you really don't need, if you keep it in the cake pan in the oven (where else would you store your cake pans? and your mugs?).
My mother taught me to keep my mouth shut when the conflict isn't really going to be beneficial. I don't think this is about avoiding conflict or sweeping things under the rug. She could confront when something needed to be said. But, it was more about extending some grace or having some patience to see how some things might pan out. It was about holding back the biting comment when someone was all sarcastic and crabby...to give them the opportunity to settle down themselves. Because, you know, most of us know when we're acting bad anyway. We seldom need someone to point it out to us.
My mama taught me to hunt for bargains, to substitute ingredients in recipes, to make do with what I have...to turn old things into new solutions. She taught me how to play rummy and make salsa and cook beans from scratch.
Sometimes I'm surprised by all the ways that I am like her because I've often thought myself so different from her in personality. When I surprise myself with a piece of her appearing in my own living, I am so proud.
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
Tuesday, February 08, 2011
Judgment Seat
When I was in junior high or so and had been babysitting for some years, I remember thinking to myself that I wouldn't be one of those parents who let their kids drag around naked dolls. I like clean, nicely dressed baby dolls. I still do. But now I understand that children seem to live for the very act of stripping the baby doll naked. And once the dolly is naked, they can happily drag the dolly everywhere.
And, for a while, I thought I knew how to have children who were perfectly behaved in public and who were charming and brilliant and gracious all-in-one. I thought I could reduce parenting to some kind of formula. If I do A, B, and C, then my children with be X, Y, and Z.
Then I had my first child. And I learned very quickly that A, B, and C do not equal X, Y, and Z because this fails to account for personality traits O, P, and Q, and life circumstances F, G, and H, and allergies T, U, and V. Yes, that's a lot of letters. And the combinations are endless.
I say this today because I've encountered some eye rolling and backhanded comments with regard to mine (and others) parenting, and I feel like it's time to make it clear what I believe and what I don't believe.
I can tell you the things I won't do as a parent: I won't hit or in others ways harm my child's body or invade her personal space. I won't call names, yell, guilt or demean. I don't want to make her behave well at the expense of her learning that her body is not hers or learning to hate herself. I don't want her to be externally motivated by fear of punishment. How will she behave when she's on her own if she's only motivated by fear of me and what I might do or say to her? How will she know how to make good decisions for herself if I've always "made" her "be good?"
My goal is behavior that comes from within because my children have learned what the right things are and how to do them. My goal is to love them in such a way that they know how to love and respect others. My goal is for my children to show kindness and compassion out of the overflow of kindness and compassion that has been shown to them.
I believe that children who are forced to do and be act in certain ways do not learn to make their own decisions. In fact, they may not really even have any idea who they are or what they want because they've always been told what to do and how to be. Of course, children who are not forced to act in particular ways will, certainly, make mistakes. Mistakes are an opportunity, though. They are an opportunity for us to teach our children forgiveness and reconciliation and grace. A child who is always punished and shamed for mistakes will only learn to punish and shame others when they make mistakes. A child, who has experienced forgiveness and learned how to make things right, will forgive others and extend the grace that allows others to make things right. I want to lead a life of grace so that I may leave a legacy of grace.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Heavy Metal
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Yes, Creativity Boot Camp is going at its own pace in my house. And I don't know when I'll finish. That's not the point. At least, that's what they tell me over there. So, bear with me. While everyone else is finished. I am on Day Four.
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When I was about five months pregnant, Mango and I went to the Whistle Stop Bed and Breakfast in New York Mills, MN. I brought along my prenatal yoga DVD and practiced every day in our very own train car while Mango tried to convince me that pregnancy looked good on me. He even took my picture while I was up to me ears in bubble bath. (Yes, the train car had a whirlpool tub.)
We came home with a heavy chunk of metal as a souvenir: a railroad spike painted gold, the signature gift of the Whistle Stop B&B. It was such a strange gift, heavy and spray-painted. We still have it, and I've contemplated from time to time what it means (being a person who contemplates the meaning of the unexpected and unusual in life - see my posts about double-yolked eggs...oh, and there were several more double yolked eggs one morning last week - we're still wondering about the meaning of this...).
The "original" golden spike was driven by Leland Stanford at the completion of the transcontinental railroad in 1869, a commemoration of the union of the two major railroads in the U.S. at the time. I like that - a symbolic spike tying the two railroads together...railroads that go a lot of different directions but are ultimately united and work together for the same purposes and goals. And that's what Mango and I are - two people working on various separate things in life but ultimately united together in purpose, in goals, in meaning. And there we were about to have our first baby, half of my DNA bound to half of his DNA to create something completely new and different, a golden spike, if you will, tying us together, not just in purpose and spirit but in the real physical world. It isn't that we weren't bound together before, but a baby is a tangible, physical bond...not evidence of our bond, but an actual real life bond - part of me and part of him.
I just have to sit with that for a while.
Then I think of all the things that railroads mean. My grandfather worked for Burlington Northern for his entire work career. Perhaps that's why I find some fascination with railroads, though he never spoke with me about his work. Or, perhaps, it's because I grew up with the movie Stand By Me, and there was something so captivating about following a railroad track. Railroad tracks are on a mission to somewhere and they slice through so much of life along the way. Like my life. And Mango's life. And our children. Yet the whole thing is tied together by these spikes, grounded, stable, connected to the solid terra firma and to every other track.
And it was on the old railroad bridge over Lake Calhoun where Mango first told me that I was beautiful. This was before we were a couple. And I didn't know what to say. There I was on those old tracks, not even knowing which direction my life was going or what to say about it. I like the way that old railroad tracks sit in the ground and the grass and flowers grow up around them, and they seem almost (but not quite) like part of the natural world all over again. They remind me of the past, of the people who came before me and the things that make me who I am today. And I can still follow those old tracks to somewhere...and sometimes they meet up with some new tracks, like the Hiawatha Line in Minneapolis, like the way layers of my life meet up and are sort of the same but altogether different...all tied together by those heavy chunks of metal. Heavy metal.
The "original" golden spike was driven by Leland Stanford at the completion of the transcontinental railroad in 1869, a commemoration of the union of the two major railroads in the U.S. at the time. I like that - a symbolic spike tying the two railroads together...railroads that go a lot of different directions but are ultimately united and work together for the same purposes and goals. And that's what Mango and I are - two people working on various separate things in life but ultimately united together in purpose, in goals, in meaning. And there we were about to have our first baby, half of my DNA bound to half of his DNA to create something completely new and different, a golden spike, if you will, tying us together, not just in purpose and spirit but in the real physical world. It isn't that we weren't bound together before, but a baby is a tangible, physical bond...not evidence of our bond, but an actual real life bond - part of me and part of him.
I just have to sit with that for a while.
Then I think of all the things that railroads mean. My grandfather worked for Burlington Northern for his entire work career. Perhaps that's why I find some fascination with railroads, though he never spoke with me about his work. Or, perhaps, it's because I grew up with the movie Stand By Me, and there was something so captivating about following a railroad track. Railroad tracks are on a mission to somewhere and they slice through so much of life along the way. Like my life. And Mango's life. And our children. Yet the whole thing is tied together by these spikes, grounded, stable, connected to the solid terra firma and to every other track.
And it was on the old railroad bridge over Lake Calhoun where Mango first told me that I was beautiful. This was before we were a couple. And I didn't know what to say. There I was on those old tracks, not even knowing which direction my life was going or what to say about it. I like the way that old railroad tracks sit in the ground and the grass and flowers grow up around them, and they seem almost (but not quite) like part of the natural world all over again. They remind me of the past, of the people who came before me and the things that make me who I am today. And I can still follow those old tracks to somewhere...and sometimes they meet up with some new tracks, like the Hiawatha Line in Minneapolis, like the way layers of my life meet up and are sort of the same but altogether different...all tied together by those heavy chunks of metal. Heavy metal.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Say Yes!
I received a very valuable piece of parenting advice once. The advice was to say "yes" to my children as often as possible so that when I needed to say "no" they could respect it.
I must say that 8 years into this parenting adventure, this advice rings true. I find that, for me, the word "no" comes far too quickly. When I know that things will be messy or exhausting or chaotic and they'll require a lot of set-up and clean-up and monitoring, I'm tempted to say "no." I have to ask myself if my "no" comes from a good reason or if it's just my own impulse to keep things neat and clean and simple.
Because when I say "yes" I let my child know that what they want is important, too. I let them know that I hear them, and that I want them to have a say in how their life should go. I open us both up to new experiences and possibilities just by being willing to try out a "yes" before I decide if "no" is really worth it.
Saying "yes" releases me from the power struggle of saying "no" for no good reason. It builds contentment in our relationship because we aren't constantly fighting about what they can and cannot do.
"No" still isn't always well-received, but I know that it's built on a foundation of "yes," and that means our relationship will recover. And because I know that my "no" isn't just instinct or impulse, I can provide a valid reason and respond with confidence. My confidence gives my child confidence - confidence that I know where the boundaries lie, that they will not just keep running to the edge of the world until they fall off, but that they will, indeed, meet up with a fence that keeps them safe.
And so I try to practice "yes" because I know that "no" will come anyway.
I must say that 8 years into this parenting adventure, this advice rings true. I find that, for me, the word "no" comes far too quickly. When I know that things will be messy or exhausting or chaotic and they'll require a lot of set-up and clean-up and monitoring, I'm tempted to say "no." I have to ask myself if my "no" comes from a good reason or if it's just my own impulse to keep things neat and clean and simple.
Because when I say "yes" I let my child know that what they want is important, too. I let them know that I hear them, and that I want them to have a say in how their life should go. I open us both up to new experiences and possibilities just by being willing to try out a "yes" before I decide if "no" is really worth it.
Saying "yes" releases me from the power struggle of saying "no" for no good reason. It builds contentment in our relationship because we aren't constantly fighting about what they can and cannot do.
"No" still isn't always well-received, but I know that it's built on a foundation of "yes," and that means our relationship will recover. And because I know that my "no" isn't just instinct or impulse, I can provide a valid reason and respond with confidence. My confidence gives my child confidence - confidence that I know where the boundaries lie, that they will not just keep running to the edge of the world until they fall off, but that they will, indeed, meet up with a fence that keeps them safe.
And so I try to practice "yes" because I know that "no" will come anyway.
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This post is a part of Momalom's Five for Ten...
This post is a part of Momalom's Five for Ten...
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
"Happiness is..."
To get my blog out of its bloggy slump and to connect with some other bloggers out there in blogland (and because Heather of the EO is doing it), I've decided to join Momalom for their current Five for Ten event. (Except it's day 3, and I'm a bit behind...)
Today's topic is "Happiness is."
I'm having a lot of trouble with this one (I know, I just got started, and already I'm having trouble) because I so very seldom use the word happy. I try to focus on joy, on contentment. When I think about the things I wish for my children, I want them to be happy for sure, but even more than happiness I want them to be content with their lives, to be satisfied, to be fulfilled. In the words of Thoreau, I want them to "live deliberately...to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life." Sometimes that isn't always happy work. It's complex and confusing, often arduous and sometimes painful.
"Happy," for me, conjures up images of neatly wrapped packages all tied up with pretty bows. Sometimes we receive those packages in life. And it's beautiful when we do. It's lovely to receive one of those gifts and have the excitement of unwrapping what's inside. It's lovely to have one of those moments when everything is tied up neatly, just for that moment, shimmering and sparkling and just plain pretty. But that's exactly what they are...just moments. It's not a whole lifetime of one beautiful present after another. Often our gifts come plainly wrapped with little fanfare, and we have to work for them. We have to dig up the treasure, get some dirt under our fingernails, sweat a little. And that, I think, is where the real joy comes from, the contentment that isn't just skin-deep happiness.
What it really comes down to for me is that life is really about people. It's about loving others out of the overflow of God's love for us. And loving others, although it can be filled with happy moments, is not always happy work. The depth and strength of the love we build when we endure life's less-than-happy moments is where we find true contentment and fulfillment. It is the true lifeblood, the marrow, of our lives.
Today's topic is "Happiness is."
I'm having a lot of trouble with this one (I know, I just got started, and already I'm having trouble) because I so very seldom use the word happy. I try to focus on joy, on contentment. When I think about the things I wish for my children, I want them to be happy for sure, but even more than happiness I want them to be content with their lives, to be satisfied, to be fulfilled. In the words of Thoreau, I want them to "live deliberately...to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life." Sometimes that isn't always happy work. It's complex and confusing, often arduous and sometimes painful.
"Happy," for me, conjures up images of neatly wrapped packages all tied up with pretty bows. Sometimes we receive those packages in life. And it's beautiful when we do. It's lovely to receive one of those gifts and have the excitement of unwrapping what's inside. It's lovely to have one of those moments when everything is tied up neatly, just for that moment, shimmering and sparkling and just plain pretty. But that's exactly what they are...just moments. It's not a whole lifetime of one beautiful present after another. Often our gifts come plainly wrapped with little fanfare, and we have to work for them. We have to dig up the treasure, get some dirt under our fingernails, sweat a little. And that, I think, is where the real joy comes from, the contentment that isn't just skin-deep happiness.
What it really comes down to for me is that life is really about people. It's about loving others out of the overflow of God's love for us. And loving others, although it can be filled with happy moments, is not always happy work. The depth and strength of the love we build when we endure life's less-than-happy moments is where we find true contentment and fulfillment. It is the true lifeblood, the marrow, of our lives.
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Saturday, February 27, 2010
A GCM Statement: It is Time to Speak Out Against the Teachings of Michael and Debi Pearl
I haven't been reading my favorite message board, Gentle Christian Mothers (GCM), since it is currently Lent. A fellow blogger, however, posted this statement. So, I went to the GCM facebook page to copy down the statement and pass it along. I stand in solidarity with my GCM friends and the many other Christian parents, who reject the teachings of the Pearls and choose to parent with grace and compassion, as Jesus taught us.
A GCM Statement: It is Time to Speak Out Against the Teachings of Michael and Debi PearlThis statement may be re-posted in it's entirety.
The admins of Gentle Christian Mothers (GCM) have felt led at this time, as we mourn the loss of seven year old Lydia Shatz[1], to issue a statement of disagreement with Michael and Debi Pearl and their child rearing methods. Not only are their methods extreme and outside the realm of normal and healthy child rearing practices, but the doctrinal foundation for these methods contain a level of heresy, including denial of the Christian doctrine of original sin[2][3], which leave them without biblical basis and at odds with the truth that all are in need of salvation which has been provided through Jesus alone[4].
Though the Pearls affirm the value of relationships in parenting in their attractive "tying heartstrings" message, their harsh teachings are in diametric contrast to building healthy relationships. They advocate "training" and "chastisement" of children, starting in infancy[5][6], using methods and means not described in Scripture -- including using ¼ inch plumber’s supply line as a spanking instrument[7] and claiming that a "proper spanking leaves children without breath to complain"[8] -- for stated purposes of absolving guilt and cleansing the child's soul[9].
The combination of an adversarial us vs. them mindset where the parents must "win," physically "disciplining" children until they surrender their will and show total submission, and false doctrine makes the Pearls' methods dangerous. They present a very distorted picture to the world of what it means to be a follower of Jesus and a Christian parent in the world today. It is time for Michael and Debi Pearl to be held accountable for their teachings. We urge other Christians to join us in speaking out against what Michael and Debi Pearl have been teaching for far too long.
References
1. Godly discipline turned deadly: A controversial child "training" practice comes under fire -- this time from Christians themselves, Lynn Harris, Feb. 22, 2010
2. Second Council of Orange (529)
3. Teaching tape on Romans 5:12-21 by M. Pearl
4. Michael Pearl on Original Sin: An Analysis, Catez Stevens, October 11, 2005
5. To Train Up a Child, M. Pearl, D. Pearl, chapter 1
6. "In Defense of Biblical Chastisement Part 2," M. Pearl, October 2001
7. Ibid.
8. "Angry Child," M. Pearl, August 1998
9. "In Defense of Biblical Chastisement Part 1," M. Pearl, May 2001
For more resources, check out: Why Not Train a Child?
Saturday, December 26, 2009
The Speech I Gave at the Wedding
It brings us a great deal of joy to be here today to celebrate the marriage of two very wonderful people, Vespera & Novio. It has been so delightful to watch their relationship grow and change over the last several years. As I sat down to write out something I wanted to say, a whole flood of memories filled my mind.
I don't think I'll ever forget the first time I met Novio when he came home with Vespera from Village Park. He shyly leaned over the fence and made polite small talk with us before heading back to his own house. As the weeks passed, this became the Tuesday evening ritual, and by the next spring Vespera (also shyly) told me they we dating.
I will not forget the day Novio brought Vespera a goldfish when she was sick and feeling sad, nor the way he and his best friend showed up early in the morning on her 17th birthday to wake her with a serenade.
I will not forget the summer you spent biking and rollerblading everywhere, nor the winter you both learned to snowboard.
I will not forget Novio sitting in my living room telling me that he loved you, Vespera.
I will not forget the nights the two of you sat together playing guitar in the living room or seeing you paint together on the banks of the Whitewater River.
We have watched you plan parties together, work on homework, cook food, dance, laugh, cry, and tell stories. We saw you both graduate from high school with high honors, and we watched as you both began college this fall, pursuing your goals with determination and courage. You are two very talented and accomplished people. You sharpen each other, and together you have an energy that is more than either of you would be on their own. It is clear to me that God has plans for you, and we pray continually that you will always find yourselves right in the middle of those plans.
Vespera & Novio, you have generously shared your thoughts and your plans, your hopes and joys with us, and we have been honored and privileged to witness the journey that brought you to this day. Now it is our honor to walk beside you as a couple. Of all the beautiful gifts that God has given us, one of the most precious is knowing that our daughter has married someone who loves her deeply and completely, who respects and honors her, and knowing that we would not choose anyone else for her, even if we could. Novio, welcome to our family. We are so happy for you both! Be blessed!
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
How many times have I traveled this road?
How many times have I traveled this road?
To church, to school, to work, to my friend's house...home. I know I've traveled it to weddings and birthdays and funerals and baby showers. Alone. With friends.
In the rain.
Crying or laughing or praying or all three.
And like tonight, in the snow, in the wind, with my headlights turning the world into a snow globe. In the snow and the wind while my future husband drove, with my head in his lap. I know I was dreaming and sleeping and my thoughts were of the future and our life together.
Yet never, ever once did I dream of this day. It isn't something I could ever have imagined...in those days when I drove this road every day.
I didn't dream about you in the back seat with your bridesmaids, making a wedding, planning a future, growing our family by yet one more person.
This life is so vast, so outside the lines....like trying to get your mind to go outside your mind.
Though I didn't dream it or plan it or imagine it, you are here, and this reality is so much better than anything I would or could have imagined. It is bigger, more alive, more daring, and so much deeper and more beautiful. A life of heightened contrast.
How many times have I traveled this road?
Many. More than I can count.
And none. None at all.
To church, to school, to work, to my friend's house...home. I know I've traveled it to weddings and birthdays and funerals and baby showers. Alone. With friends.
In the rain.
Crying or laughing or praying or all three.
And like tonight, in the snow, in the wind, with my headlights turning the world into a snow globe. In the snow and the wind while my future husband drove, with my head in his lap. I know I was dreaming and sleeping and my thoughts were of the future and our life together.
Yet never, ever once did I dream of this day. It isn't something I could ever have imagined...in those days when I drove this road every day.
I didn't dream about you in the back seat with your bridesmaids, making a wedding, planning a future, growing our family by yet one more person.
This life is so vast, so outside the lines....like trying to get your mind to go outside your mind.
Though I didn't dream it or plan it or imagine it, you are here, and this reality is so much better than anything I would or could have imagined. It is bigger, more alive, more daring, and so much deeper and more beautiful. A life of heightened contrast.
How many times have I traveled this road?
Many. More than I can count.
And none. None at all.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Why Co-Housing?
The author of Little House on a Small Planet, Shay Salomen, writes,
This was written in a time when the U.S. was considered to be having a housing crisis. Now I think we have, perhaps, a different type of housing crisis, one in which there are too many large expensive homes, and everyone is trying to downsize when downsized houses barely exist. I love how she refers to this as a sharing crisis, though, because it exactly fits how I feel about co-housing/multi-generational housing/intentional community, or whatever else you want to call it. For the purpose of simplicity, it means sharing your house with other adults. Our co-housing adventure begins next week when Vespera & Novio get married (or, perhaps, 2 weeks from now, when they're home from their honeymoon). They'll be living with us.
Why share? Well, to be honest, it makes sense to me as a family therapist, as an environmentalist, and as a Christian. Maybe I'll take those points in backwards order. As Christians we are called to be the church. I spent some time in graduate school really working out what that means and came to the conclusion that my professor, LeRon Schultz, says it best. He spoke of how the church of the Bible was a group of people who were called to live together in community, loving and serving each other, in a way that calls or draws other people to God. In other words, the early church was supposed to share.
So, secondly, as an environmentalist, shared housing makes so much sense. Why use more natural resources to build more houses when the houses we have are big enough to house more people? Why burn the fuel to heat two houses when we all fit in one? Why use the electricity to light two kitchens and two living rooms? Why buy more dishes and appliances when we can share? It's a matter of environmental stewardship to leave a smaller footprint.
And, finally, as a family therapist, a mother, and a human being, shared housing means we have access to the community we so desperately need. We were not created to spend long hours without the company of others or to take care of all the tasks of daily life alone. Post partum depression is so common for new mothers because they're so isolated. Spending all day with only the company of a small child is exhausting, lonely, and (let's admit it) boring work. I know that I was delighted to learn when Vespera came to us that I was gaining, not simply another daughter, but some thoughtful company and interesting conversation. More people in a house means more opportunities to learn and to grow, to share thoughts, to gather ideas, to be challenged and to challenge others, to be sharpened, to develop into better, more whole and holy people (to throw in some more theology). Not to mention, that shared housing also means dividing responsibilities and multiplying our celebrations!
I cannot say all this without mentioning that I am also an introvert, partial to time alone and a little space to think. I imagine that other introverts reading here are feeling a bit horrified at the suggestion of co-housing. This is why sharing a house requires some healthy people with good boundaries. It can't be done thoughtlessly or without the necessary communication skills. This is, perhaps, another blog post altogether. So, I think I'll leave it at that.
As always, I invite your thoughts, comments, questions, and prayer. Thanks!
"How is it that we have a housing crisis? Maybe a homing crisis, or a sharing crisis, but this isn't a housing crisis."
This was written in a time when the U.S. was considered to be having a housing crisis. Now I think we have, perhaps, a different type of housing crisis, one in which there are too many large expensive homes, and everyone is trying to downsize when downsized houses barely exist. I love how she refers to this as a sharing crisis, though, because it exactly fits how I feel about co-housing/multi-generational housing/intentional community, or whatever else you want to call it. For the purpose of simplicity, it means sharing your house with other adults. Our co-housing adventure begins next week when Vespera & Novio get married (or, perhaps, 2 weeks from now, when they're home from their honeymoon). They'll be living with us.
Why share? Well, to be honest, it makes sense to me as a family therapist, as an environmentalist, and as a Christian. Maybe I'll take those points in backwards order. As Christians we are called to be the church. I spent some time in graduate school really working out what that means and came to the conclusion that my professor, LeRon Schultz, says it best. He spoke of how the church of the Bible was a group of people who were called to live together in community, loving and serving each other, in a way that calls or draws other people to God. In other words, the early church was supposed to share.
All the believers were together and had everything in common. Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved. (Acts 2:44-47)They didn't stop having houses or possessions entirely, as evidenced by the fact that they went to each other's houses and ate, but they gladly shared all they had with each other. And, frankly, people were drawn in by that kind of community, by that kind of selflessness and sharing. People became Christians because of the example the early church set. They wanted what that little group of people had. This is our calling...to live in this beautiful relationship with each other in a way that attracts others, that draws them. I have often thought of our house as one of peace and one of healing. It is the deep desire of Mango & I to offer grace and rest to all who enter here. Who better to begin with than our children?
So, secondly, as an environmentalist, shared housing makes so much sense. Why use more natural resources to build more houses when the houses we have are big enough to house more people? Why burn the fuel to heat two houses when we all fit in one? Why use the electricity to light two kitchens and two living rooms? Why buy more dishes and appliances when we can share? It's a matter of environmental stewardship to leave a smaller footprint.
And, finally, as a family therapist, a mother, and a human being, shared housing means we have access to the community we so desperately need. We were not created to spend long hours without the company of others or to take care of all the tasks of daily life alone. Post partum depression is so common for new mothers because they're so isolated. Spending all day with only the company of a small child is exhausting, lonely, and (let's admit it) boring work. I know that I was delighted to learn when Vespera came to us that I was gaining, not simply another daughter, but some thoughtful company and interesting conversation. More people in a house means more opportunities to learn and to grow, to share thoughts, to gather ideas, to be challenged and to challenge others, to be sharpened, to develop into better, more whole and holy people (to throw in some more theology). Not to mention, that shared housing also means dividing responsibilities and multiplying our celebrations!
I cannot say all this without mentioning that I am also an introvert, partial to time alone and a little space to think. I imagine that other introverts reading here are feeling a bit horrified at the suggestion of co-housing. This is why sharing a house requires some healthy people with good boundaries. It can't be done thoughtlessly or without the necessary communication skills. This is, perhaps, another blog post altogether. So, I think I'll leave it at that.
As always, I invite your thoughts, comments, questions, and prayer. Thanks!
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Teaching, Timing, Trust
There are so many things I want my children to know before they are grown. So many things I want to tell them. So many things I want them to know. Every so often I must remind myself of two things. First, that I won't stop telling them things just because they're grown. And, second, that there are many lessons they will and need to learn on their own. Often it's only in retrospect that we can look back and say, "I wish someone had told me that." The truth is that maybe we wouldn't have been able to hear it or it wouldn't have made sense or we would have forgotten anyway because it didn't seem relevant. I think that's why premarital counseling often has so little effect. It's not just that it's young love or that it's all so new and romantic, but when a person just isn't ready for a piece of information, it often goes in the waste bin rather than the file cabinet. They won't need the information until they're in the situation. And that's why parenting is a full time job that never ends. We've got to be there when the timing is right and the wisdom is relevant...which is so often different from the timing we expected.
I was musing the other night about how babies seem to just learn things on their own. I remember having some freakish fear that we needed to be doing something to help Mane learn to crawl, and then one day she just crawled...with no help from us. I think that sometimes we think we're doing something by holding those tiny hands and helping the baby walk across the room, but, strangely enough, most babies will learn to walk whether we practice with them or not. We repeat words to them over and over, "Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama," only to have them burst out with "Dada" or "ball" or "cat." Sure, they still learned from us, but not in the way we expected...not by any direct teaching...and certainly in their own way and in their own time. I suppose that's why how we live our lives is more important that what we say. We're being watched even when we're not teaching.
It's such a dance...that knowing when to teach and when to trust. Knowing when you've said or done enough. Even knowing when direct teaching will interfere with the deeper teaching that comes of personal experience. When to say something and when to let the lesson be learned. Holding on. Letting go. Holding back. Pouring forth.
I love it that the verbs "to wait" and "to hope" and "to expect" are the same in Spanish.
Sometimes we must wait.
Hold back.
Keep pace, not running ahead.
And hope, knowing that we have already built the foundation,
And sit on the edge of our seats expectantly,
knowing that something glorious is about to break forth.
All on it's own.
Without our help.
I was musing the other night about how babies seem to just learn things on their own. I remember having some freakish fear that we needed to be doing something to help Mane learn to crawl, and then one day she just crawled...with no help from us. I think that sometimes we think we're doing something by holding those tiny hands and helping the baby walk across the room, but, strangely enough, most babies will learn to walk whether we practice with them or not. We repeat words to them over and over, "Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama," only to have them burst out with "Dada" or "ball" or "cat." Sure, they still learned from us, but not in the way we expected...not by any direct teaching...and certainly in their own way and in their own time. I suppose that's why how we live our lives is more important that what we say. We're being watched even when we're not teaching.
It's such a dance...that knowing when to teach and when to trust. Knowing when you've said or done enough. Even knowing when direct teaching will interfere with the deeper teaching that comes of personal experience. When to say something and when to let the lesson be learned. Holding on. Letting go. Holding back. Pouring forth.
I love it that the verbs "to wait" and "to hope" and "to expect" are the same in Spanish.
Sometimes we must wait.
Hold back.
Keep pace, not running ahead.
And hope, knowing that we have already built the foundation,
And sit on the edge of our seats expectantly,
knowing that something glorious is about to break forth.
All on it's own.
Without our help.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Announcement
I've said it before, and I'll say it again. We here at The Midnight Cafe are in love with love...with the God who is love, with love stories and love songs, and the love between us, our family, and between the couples who make up our family...most newly, Vespera & Novio, as they are now officially engaged!!
We are so delighted. I don't think even Mango and I could imagine two people more perfectly suited to each other, except ourselves, of course. ;) They have worked together, planned events, cooked, danced, biked, hiked, and played guitar. They have gotten angry, cried, made up, and laughed...loud and long. They have held each other, literally and figuratively through some major life changes, pain, and stress. They have generously and openly shared their thoughts and even some struggles with us, and we have been honored and privileged to witness their journey of falling in love. Now it is our honor and privilege to walk beside them as a couple. Of all the beautiful gifts that God has bestowed on us, one of the sweetest is knowing that our precious daughter will marry someone who loves her deeply and completely, who respects her and honors her, and who expresses this love without reserve in word and action.
This is a gift to us, knowing that we would not choose anyone else for her, even if we could. It is a tremendous gift to us because we know what a gift marriage can be. Marriage means we have someone to face the world with us, to share our dreams, goals, stories, work, inside jokes, and warm winter quilts. Marriage can sharpen and refine us, as we rub against each other's sharp edges day in and day out. A marriage rooted and grounded in the love of God has the power to be balm and healing for the places where we are hurt and wounded. Out of our own healing, we can reach out and bring healing to others.
I strongly believe in the concept of synergy - the idea that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. A marriage has the potential to be and to create so much more than those two people working separately. Vespera and Novio have already been through much in their separate lives, and it's clear to me that God has brought them through for a purpose. They were born in two little towns in Mexico, not far apart. And, yet, they found each other here, in Minnesota, several thousand miles from their birthplaces. They found each other here, where they are surrounded by people who love and support them and people who have taught them much. A divine appointment, perhaps? Separately they are talented, courageous, and accomplished individuals. Together they are dynamite waiting to explode! I am convinced that God has plans for them, big plans.
I am curious and excited to see it all unfold. For now, though, I am simply content to walk beside them...to cook dinners and watch movies, to snowboard and camp and sit up late talking. They are our children...and our companions. How fortunate we are.
We are so delighted. I don't think even Mango and I could imagine two people more perfectly suited to each other, except ourselves, of course. ;) They have worked together, planned events, cooked, danced, biked, hiked, and played guitar. They have gotten angry, cried, made up, and laughed...loud and long. They have held each other, literally and figuratively through some major life changes, pain, and stress. They have generously and openly shared their thoughts and even some struggles with us, and we have been honored and privileged to witness their journey of falling in love. Now it is our honor and privilege to walk beside them as a couple. Of all the beautiful gifts that God has bestowed on us, one of the sweetest is knowing that our precious daughter will marry someone who loves her deeply and completely, who respects her and honors her, and who expresses this love without reserve in word and action.
This is a gift to us, knowing that we would not choose anyone else for her, even if we could. It is a tremendous gift to us because we know what a gift marriage can be. Marriage means we have someone to face the world with us, to share our dreams, goals, stories, work, inside jokes, and warm winter quilts. Marriage can sharpen and refine us, as we rub against each other's sharp edges day in and day out. A marriage rooted and grounded in the love of God has the power to be balm and healing for the places where we are hurt and wounded. Out of our own healing, we can reach out and bring healing to others.
I strongly believe in the concept of synergy - the idea that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. A marriage has the potential to be and to create so much more than those two people working separately. Vespera and Novio have already been through much in their separate lives, and it's clear to me that God has brought them through for a purpose. They were born in two little towns in Mexico, not far apart. And, yet, they found each other here, in Minnesota, several thousand miles from their birthplaces. They found each other here, where they are surrounded by people who love and support them and people who have taught them much. A divine appointment, perhaps? Separately they are talented, courageous, and accomplished individuals. Together they are dynamite waiting to explode! I am convinced that God has plans for them, big plans.
I am curious and excited to see it all unfold. For now, though, I am simply content to walk beside them...to cook dinners and watch movies, to snowboard and camp and sit up late talking. They are our children...and our companions. How fortunate we are.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Riveted
I spent the evening with my eyes riveted to the girl who unexpectedly changed my life forever.
We were at a soccer game.
I watched her watch the ball...
watched her kick hard, fall down, laugh, sweat, SCORE, run...
Since the day I met her I've admired her courage,
her willingness to push through pain.
And her ability to come out the other side.
I don't think I've ever met anyone who wants to learn more
about everything
and who CAN.
Soccer is where she pushes her body,
college is where she pushes her mind,
and relationships are where she pushes her emotions.
She's had the courage to be the one to make change in relationships,
to be different,
to stand up for herself,
to admit mistakes,
and to forgive.
I kept my eyes on her.
Riveted.
Because who she is
has changed who I am,
and I'm trying to understand who I am.
While all the while she keeps changing, too.
My daughter,
mija,
Evening Prayer,
Vespera.
She turned 19 a few weeks ago, and the words that I couldn't find then started recklessly pouring all over the pages of my mind as I watched her play soccer last night. There's still so much more to say, but this is my Happy Birthday post for her...just a little late.
We were at a soccer game.
I watched her watch the ball...
watched her kick hard, fall down, laugh, sweat, SCORE, run...
Since the day I met her I've admired her courage,
her willingness to push through pain.
And her ability to come out the other side.
I don't think I've ever met anyone who wants to learn more
about everything
and who CAN.
Soccer is where she pushes her body,
college is where she pushes her mind,
and relationships are where she pushes her emotions.
She's had the courage to be the one to make change in relationships,
to be different,
to stand up for herself,
to admit mistakes,
and to forgive.
I kept my eyes on her.
Riveted.
Because who she is
has changed who I am,
and I'm trying to understand who I am.
While all the while she keeps changing, too.
My daughter,
mija,
Evening Prayer,
Vespera.
She turned 19 a few weeks ago, and the words that I couldn't find then started recklessly pouring all over the pages of my mind as I watched her play soccer last night. There's still so much more to say, but this is my Happy Birthday post for her...just a little late.
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
I'm giving you grace...
This is some really rough writing. I've gotten out of the habit of writing deep thoughts here. Bear with me. ;)
**************
Once when Mane was very small I was having a miserable day. I threw myself on my bed and wished as hard as I could for it to be bedtime...soon. Mane came in and patted my arm and said, "Mama, I'm giving you grace."
I know she really had no idea what grace meant, yet, somehow, she knew I needed something...and grace sounded like a good word. Or, perhaps, God whispered that word in her little ears, and she was the voice of Jesus to me that day.
On Wednesday at Bible study we were talking about the worries we have as mothers that we'll mess our children up somehow, that they'll grow up to tell people about all the ways we've screwed up. I'm not sure, but I think the answer to that fear is grace....for ourselves and for our children...so that when they grow up they have some grace for us.
I really think our children start out that way...gifting us with grace all the time. They forgive us easily and love us with a fierceness that defies our many shortcomings. But somewhere along the way they learn to be defensive, to be less accepting of their own faults...and, thereby, ours, too.
Vespera likes a particular saying that goes like this, "Everybody has their stuff." I don't know if you can hear it or not, but that simple statement is just crammed with grace. Mane was the first child of mine to offer me grace. Vespera's grace came later and was more unexpected. She has a talent for seeing what's inside people...my own anxiety and needs for control, for example...but seeing the imperfections doesn't result in criticism. Instead, you'll hear her simple refrain, "It's ok. Everybody has their stuff." It's an acceptance that none of us are perfect, that most of us are trying, that we can still be loved and appreciated for who we are. We have stuff. It's who we are. But it doesn't make us less, and it doesn't make us unloveable.
I find that if I take that approach in life, I get along with a lot more people. I love a lot more people. If I expect people to have "stuff" I don't get so offended/hurt/insulted/frustrated when I come face to face with it.
I want to give this gift back to my children. I want to gift them with grace. I want them to know that they are loved in the middle of all their stuff. It isn't that I want them stuck there. I just think it's really hard to learn and grown and get unstuck outside the gift of grace. You see, I can relax and be a different person when Vespera notices my needs for control getting out of control and says, "It's ok, everybody has their stuff." Suddenly, the acknowledgment that it's there, but it isn't all of me and I am loved anyway, allows me to breathe again and to be...well, less controlling.
If we practicing giving grace back and forth to each other like that, maybe we'll all grow up to be more whole and loving people, people who forgive instead of blaming, who go out and live and make mistakes, rather than hiding in fear and trying to be perfect.
**************
Once when Mane was very small I was having a miserable day. I threw myself on my bed and wished as hard as I could for it to be bedtime...soon. Mane came in and patted my arm and said, "Mama, I'm giving you grace."
I know she really had no idea what grace meant, yet, somehow, she knew I needed something...and grace sounded like a good word. Or, perhaps, God whispered that word in her little ears, and she was the voice of Jesus to me that day.
On Wednesday at Bible study we were talking about the worries we have as mothers that we'll mess our children up somehow, that they'll grow up to tell people about all the ways we've screwed up. I'm not sure, but I think the answer to that fear is grace....for ourselves and for our children...so that when they grow up they have some grace for us.
I really think our children start out that way...gifting us with grace all the time. They forgive us easily and love us with a fierceness that defies our many shortcomings. But somewhere along the way they learn to be defensive, to be less accepting of their own faults...and, thereby, ours, too.
Vespera likes a particular saying that goes like this, "Everybody has their stuff." I don't know if you can hear it or not, but that simple statement is just crammed with grace. Mane was the first child of mine to offer me grace. Vespera's grace came later and was more unexpected. She has a talent for seeing what's inside people...my own anxiety and needs for control, for example...but seeing the imperfections doesn't result in criticism. Instead, you'll hear her simple refrain, "It's ok. Everybody has their stuff." It's an acceptance that none of us are perfect, that most of us are trying, that we can still be loved and appreciated for who we are. We have stuff. It's who we are. But it doesn't make us less, and it doesn't make us unloveable.
I find that if I take that approach in life, I get along with a lot more people. I love a lot more people. If I expect people to have "stuff" I don't get so offended/hurt/insulted/frustrated when I come face to face with it.
I want to give this gift back to my children. I want to gift them with grace. I want them to know that they are loved in the middle of all their stuff. It isn't that I want them stuck there. I just think it's really hard to learn and grown and get unstuck outside the gift of grace. You see, I can relax and be a different person when Vespera notices my needs for control getting out of control and says, "It's ok, everybody has their stuff." Suddenly, the acknowledgment that it's there, but it isn't all of me and I am loved anyway, allows me to breathe again and to be...well, less controlling.
If we practicing giving grace back and forth to each other like that, maybe we'll all grow up to be more whole and loving people, people who forgive instead of blaming, who go out and live and make mistakes, rather than hiding in fear and trying to be perfect.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
What's it like to have an adult daughter?
Perplexing.
Just the other day we were on our way home from the county fair, and Vespera asked me, "Can men produce milk?" And a few minutes later, "How about women who have never had a baby?" And the conversation went on from there with a series of questions about hormones and human milk production. This was followed by questions about Michael Jackson and his difficult life. Before that we had talked about the people she met at the fair, the people who asked her where she was from, why it is that people ask where you're from if your skin is a different color. We talked and talked, wending this way and that.
I love these conversations. I love her voice of youth and endless interests. I love rolling along in the car following the roads of her curiosity.
It reminds me that she is my daughter. And I am her mother.
And then today she got up, headed out the door, and told me she wasn't sure when she'd be home. Ok, that sounds bad. She didn't say it in a bad way. It's just matter of fact. She's got things to do and people to see, her own life to live. I have a vague idea of where she's at. I know she's safe and responsible. She's almost 19. I think it's ok for her to be doing her own thing.
It reminds me that she's an adult. And so am I. And that makes us equals.
We're transitioning from a household of parents and children to a multigenerational communal living sort of situation, as I've posted about here: Communal Living
How do I feel about it? Well...perplexed. Bewildered. Uncertain. At a loss. Hmmm...loss. I suppose loss has something to do with it. For a few short years of her life with us I could read her children's picture books, even though she was too old for them. I could rub her head and tell her stories. She would tell me her dreams. And, you know, those things haven't gone away, but they're fewer and less often. She has less time and less interest. And she has Novio.
And I find myself uncertain about how and when to push for connection. Perplexed by her less readable responses. Bewildered by this woman-child who is mine...but not mine. She is her own.
And then who am I? Her mother, of course. But what does that mean? I suppose, in essence, mothering is more about how much we love our children, how we support and encourage them, how we are the soft place to land when the world is hard. Mothering is not really setting rules, enforcing boundaries, or giving advice. It isn't even making dinner and doing the laundry. It isn't reading stories or giving head rubs. In fact, maybe mothering cannot be defined at all. Mothers do all those things when necessary, as life demands, but those things do not define motherhood.
It's humbling to have an adult daughter. A constant state of perplexity does not lend itself well to arrogance or pride.
And it's beautiful. It's beautiful to see her becoming who she is. To see her step out with increasing confidence into her own life. To know that she is able to care for herself.
And I miss her sometimes.
Just the other day we were on our way home from the county fair, and Vespera asked me, "Can men produce milk?" And a few minutes later, "How about women who have never had a baby?" And the conversation went on from there with a series of questions about hormones and human milk production. This was followed by questions about Michael Jackson and his difficult life. Before that we had talked about the people she met at the fair, the people who asked her where she was from, why it is that people ask where you're from if your skin is a different color. We talked and talked, wending this way and that.
I love these conversations. I love her voice of youth and endless interests. I love rolling along in the car following the roads of her curiosity.
It reminds me that she is my daughter. And I am her mother.
And then today she got up, headed out the door, and told me she wasn't sure when she'd be home. Ok, that sounds bad. She didn't say it in a bad way. It's just matter of fact. She's got things to do and people to see, her own life to live. I have a vague idea of where she's at. I know she's safe and responsible. She's almost 19. I think it's ok for her to be doing her own thing.
It reminds me that she's an adult. And so am I. And that makes us equals.
We're transitioning from a household of parents and children to a multigenerational communal living sort of situation, as I've posted about here: Communal Living
How do I feel about it? Well...perplexed. Bewildered. Uncertain. At a loss. Hmmm...loss. I suppose loss has something to do with it. For a few short years of her life with us I could read her children's picture books, even though she was too old for them. I could rub her head and tell her stories. She would tell me her dreams. And, you know, those things haven't gone away, but they're fewer and less often. She has less time and less interest. And she has Novio.
And I find myself uncertain about how and when to push for connection. Perplexed by her less readable responses. Bewildered by this woman-child who is mine...but not mine. She is her own.
And then who am I? Her mother, of course. But what does that mean? I suppose, in essence, mothering is more about how much we love our children, how we support and encourage them, how we are the soft place to land when the world is hard. Mothering is not really setting rules, enforcing boundaries, or giving advice. It isn't even making dinner and doing the laundry. It isn't reading stories or giving head rubs. In fact, maybe mothering cannot be defined at all. Mothers do all those things when necessary, as life demands, but those things do not define motherhood.
It's humbling to have an adult daughter. A constant state of perplexity does not lend itself well to arrogance or pride.
And it's beautiful. It's beautiful to see her becoming who she is. To see her step out with increasing confidence into her own life. To know that she is able to care for herself.
And I miss her sometimes.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Day 7 - Random Thoughts
Mango has been gone at a conference for 7 days so far. It's over half finished now, and I can begin the countdown to his homecoming.
We haven't had a car since he left because the transmission went out, and we're getting a "new" used transmission. The first transmission they replaced the old one with at the dealership didn't work. So, now they're trying a second one. At this rate I might get my car back in time to pick Mango up from the airport.
I've discovered that Vespera is really getting to be a grown-up...with her own plans and schedule, and she doesn't need me much. She stops to say hello and give me an update on her plans about once a day, but, mostly she's doing her own thing. And I'm learning to understand the more grown-up version of her. I really, really love her. She's so curious about everything. I love it when she tells me the random things she's thought of and wondered about. I love it when she comes home late & sits on my bed and tells me about her night. I love it that we can live and work and play in the same house together and enjoy the presence of another woman...
This year, though, Mane is the one keeping me company while Mango is gone. She and I have been very, very busy with playdates and outings. Mane can be such a good companion that I get surprised when all of the sudden she's whining and tired and hungry...just generally acting like a 7yr old! We've been biking and playing games and entertaining company together. I'm beginning to really look forward to the next year of homeschooling.
I miss Mango...mostly at night when it's too late to call him any more, and I'm finally going to sleep. My very favorite thing ever about getting married is that we can sleep in the same bed together for the rest of our lives. It's one of the simple, yet profound, pleasures in life...to sleep with someone you love and trust.
Only 6 more nights to go...
We haven't had a car since he left because the transmission went out, and we're getting a "new" used transmission. The first transmission they replaced the old one with at the dealership didn't work. So, now they're trying a second one. At this rate I might get my car back in time to pick Mango up from the airport.
I've discovered that Vespera is really getting to be a grown-up...with her own plans and schedule, and she doesn't need me much. She stops to say hello and give me an update on her plans about once a day, but, mostly she's doing her own thing. And I'm learning to understand the more grown-up version of her. I really, really love her. She's so curious about everything. I love it when she tells me the random things she's thought of and wondered about. I love it when she comes home late & sits on my bed and tells me about her night. I love it that we can live and work and play in the same house together and enjoy the presence of another woman...
This year, though, Mane is the one keeping me company while Mango is gone. She and I have been very, very busy with playdates and outings. Mane can be such a good companion that I get surprised when all of the sudden she's whining and tired and hungry...just generally acting like a 7yr old! We've been biking and playing games and entertaining company together. I'm beginning to really look forward to the next year of homeschooling.
I miss Mango...mostly at night when it's too late to call him any more, and I'm finally going to sleep. My very favorite thing ever about getting married is that we can sleep in the same bed together for the rest of our lives. It's one of the simple, yet profound, pleasures in life...to sleep with someone you love and trust.
Only 6 more nights to go...
Thursday, July 02, 2009
Young Love
Dear Adults who like to give my daughter advice about dating and/or marriage,
Please stop.
As you may know, every person is different. In other words, what works (or does not work) for one person may not (or may) work for another. And cultural norms do not make something right or wrong.
Standard advice in our culture seems to be to wait until after college to get married. I understand that many young people are simply not ready to make that kind of decision before they're through college. I want you to understand that some are. And telling them to wait when they already know they belong together can be damaging, too. It creates this dynamic of uncertainty, of not really being able to rely on that relationship quite yet as a solid, steady thing. It gives them a feeling of walking along the edge of a cliff all the time. A state of limbo. Ambiguity. Not-knowingness. And then they spend their energy wondering where the relationship is going, rather than just living life together and getting their education.
Now, some young people will claim that they've found the "right one" when they really know nothing about who the right person would be or what they actually really want. Some people think they've found their soulmate when they haven't really even found their own soul. I'm not talking about those people. I'm talking about the rare and beautiful circumstances when two young people are sure, clearheaded, self-aware, mature, and able to make a commitment of the marriage magnitude.
What I want you to know about my daughter is that you don't really know which category she falls in. You don't know how she's been handling relationships or her education. But I do. I can tell you that she has been thoughtful, and she has worked hard. I can tell you that she has the ability to focus, not only on school & her boyfriend, but also on family, friends, volunteer work, and preparing for college.
When you tell her to wait until she's finished with college you're telling her either one of two things. Maybe you're telling her to keep on dating but not to get married. If that's the case, you're telling her to continue with the high stress & high maintenance that a dating relationship requires without the stability and trust that comes of a committed marriage relationship. Remember, we've already talked about maturity and whatnot. Assuming that she's mature enough to make this kind of decision, you're telling her NOT to make the very decision that would loosen some of the tension in her life and create a place of security. Yes, I know that marriage is hard work. I promise you that dating (or even courting) is more.
OR, maybe you're telling her that relationships take too much time and effort while she's in college and she should walk away from this one. I can't begin to tell you how disrespectful that is...of her choices and the work that she's already done to build this relationship. You're also telling her to let go of something very promising, perhaps the most precious gift she will ever receive in her lifetime...not knowing whether that gift will come back to her when she's through with college or not.
And, honestly, though I value education, I value people more. Vespera's Novio has been her novio for more than 2 years, and they have both worked for this relationship. Neither of them are disposable. They are not something for you to wave aside with a sweeping statement about the importance of education and of waiting for serious relationships until the end of college. They didn't go looking for this kind of relationship. It came to them. And this is where they are...at the very beginning of their college careers, fighting the cultural norms and the sweeping generalizations about young love.
Your encouragement, respect and support would be appreciated.
Thanks,
MaMidnightCafe
Please stop.
As you may know, every person is different. In other words, what works (or does not work) for one person may not (or may) work for another. And cultural norms do not make something right or wrong.
Standard advice in our culture seems to be to wait until after college to get married. I understand that many young people are simply not ready to make that kind of decision before they're through college. I want you to understand that some are. And telling them to wait when they already know they belong together can be damaging, too. It creates this dynamic of uncertainty, of not really being able to rely on that relationship quite yet as a solid, steady thing. It gives them a feeling of walking along the edge of a cliff all the time. A state of limbo. Ambiguity. Not-knowingness. And then they spend their energy wondering where the relationship is going, rather than just living life together and getting their education.
Now, some young people will claim that they've found the "right one" when they really know nothing about who the right person would be or what they actually really want. Some people think they've found their soulmate when they haven't really even found their own soul. I'm not talking about those people. I'm talking about the rare and beautiful circumstances when two young people are sure, clearheaded, self-aware, mature, and able to make a commitment of the marriage magnitude.
What I want you to know about my daughter is that you don't really know which category she falls in. You don't know how she's been handling relationships or her education. But I do. I can tell you that she has been thoughtful, and she has worked hard. I can tell you that she has the ability to focus, not only on school & her boyfriend, but also on family, friends, volunteer work, and preparing for college.
When you tell her to wait until she's finished with college you're telling her either one of two things. Maybe you're telling her to keep on dating but not to get married. If that's the case, you're telling her to continue with the high stress & high maintenance that a dating relationship requires without the stability and trust that comes of a committed marriage relationship. Remember, we've already talked about maturity and whatnot. Assuming that she's mature enough to make this kind of decision, you're telling her NOT to make the very decision that would loosen some of the tension in her life and create a place of security. Yes, I know that marriage is hard work. I promise you that dating (or even courting) is more.
OR, maybe you're telling her that relationships take too much time and effort while she's in college and she should walk away from this one. I can't begin to tell you how disrespectful that is...of her choices and the work that she's already done to build this relationship. You're also telling her to let go of something very promising, perhaps the most precious gift she will ever receive in her lifetime...not knowing whether that gift will come back to her when she's through with college or not.
And, honestly, though I value education, I value people more. Vespera's Novio has been her novio for more than 2 years, and they have both worked for this relationship. Neither of them are disposable. They are not something for you to wave aside with a sweeping statement about the importance of education and of waiting for serious relationships until the end of college. They didn't go looking for this kind of relationship. It came to them. And this is where they are...at the very beginning of their college careers, fighting the cultural norms and the sweeping generalizations about young love.
Your encouragement, respect and support would be appreciated.
Thanks,
MaMidnightCafe
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
So, why did God plant the tree?
This is cross-posted at if life is a highway.
The question that stuck with me after my most recent meeting with my Bible study group was this: Why did God put the tree in the garden in the first place? I mean, ultimately, the tree represents the ability of people to choose their own destruction. If God did not give people the ability to choose, life would still be perfect in the garden of Eden. Perfect. Instead, the "gift" of free choice means that we live in a world where murder, rape, hunger, disease, and greed exist right alongside compassion, generosity, abundance, health, and joy. Love crashes and shatters against evil every day. Perfection does not exist.
So, why?
The best answer that I know of is that God wanted us to CHOOSE. God wants us to freely choose relationship with God, which means that there has to be another choice. Otherwise we are robots, creatures who worship God because that's what we were created to do, but not because we choose God. And, honestly, I believe that God wants to be chosen. God doesn't desire relationship with beings who have no choice.
God gave us the dignity of being free. God grants us the respect of autonomous beings.
I mentioned (in my Bible study) that it's a little like being parents. We could, potentially, protect our children from risk (and also choice and freedom) for much of their lives, maybe even their whole lives if we did a good enough job of isolating them. But then who would our children be? We've all heard of people who have been so isolated they can hardly function, and they certainly cannot think for themselves. They have no personality, no individual personhood.
Having read a fair amount about different types of parenting, I know that kids who are raised by more strict parents, especially strict conservative Christian parents may be less likely to endure a tumultuous adolescence, but they are also less creative, less adventurous, and less engaging than their peers who have been allowed more freedom...including the freedom to make some stupid choices.
Another wise parent in the Bible study group responded that, of course, she allows her son some choices...but she wouldn't let him set himself on fire and dance naked on the kitchen table. ;) In other words, she limits his choices to protect his life.
It seems that God didn't do that. God put that tree right there in the garden and did not prevent people from eating the fruit that would lead to destruction...to unspeakable pain and evil.
I'm sorry to admit that I became swallowed up in my own thoughts after that and lost the discussion, and by the time I returned the topic had moved on (we were discussing The Shack, and there's plenty there to talk about).
Here's what I was thinking, though. It's true that while my children are young, I protect them from the serious choices, choices that could mean the difference between life and death. I don't let Mane run out into the street or set herself on fire. But, very recently, I've been faced with the fact that I cannot do that with Vespera. I cannot protect her from every choice that has the potential to harm her.
If I remove her choice, her freedom, even in cases where her life could be in danger, I destroy our relationship. I'm willing to beg, plead, and persuade when I think she's making an unwise choice. But if I cross over the line into removing her freedom, I open a chasm between us. We can talk, negotiate, and argue...unless I take away her freedom. Then I've shut down communication, broken the lines, built a wall, or whatever else you want to call it. And we are left with a quiet, empty chasm between us.
And God is a God of relationship, a God who wants to communicate with us, even if it's to argue and persuade. There's simply nothing to say if we don't have any choices. So, God gave us choices to keep our relationship.
I've been trying to post this for 3 days and keep changing it. So, go easy on me. I'd love a discussion if ya'll have anything to say, ask, or argue.
The question that stuck with me after my most recent meeting with my Bible study group was this: Why did God put the tree in the garden in the first place? I mean, ultimately, the tree represents the ability of people to choose their own destruction. If God did not give people the ability to choose, life would still be perfect in the garden of Eden. Perfect. Instead, the "gift" of free choice means that we live in a world where murder, rape, hunger, disease, and greed exist right alongside compassion, generosity, abundance, health, and joy. Love crashes and shatters against evil every day. Perfection does not exist.
So, why?
The best answer that I know of is that God wanted us to CHOOSE. God wants us to freely choose relationship with God, which means that there has to be another choice. Otherwise we are robots, creatures who worship God because that's what we were created to do, but not because we choose God. And, honestly, I believe that God wants to be chosen. God doesn't desire relationship with beings who have no choice.
God gave us the dignity of being free. God grants us the respect of autonomous beings.
I mentioned (in my Bible study) that it's a little like being parents. We could, potentially, protect our children from risk (and also choice and freedom) for much of their lives, maybe even their whole lives if we did a good enough job of isolating them. But then who would our children be? We've all heard of people who have been so isolated they can hardly function, and they certainly cannot think for themselves. They have no personality, no individual personhood.
Having read a fair amount about different types of parenting, I know that kids who are raised by more strict parents, especially strict conservative Christian parents may be less likely to endure a tumultuous adolescence, but they are also less creative, less adventurous, and less engaging than their peers who have been allowed more freedom...including the freedom to make some stupid choices.
Another wise parent in the Bible study group responded that, of course, she allows her son some choices...but she wouldn't let him set himself on fire and dance naked on the kitchen table. ;) In other words, she limits his choices to protect his life.
It seems that God didn't do that. God put that tree right there in the garden and did not prevent people from eating the fruit that would lead to destruction...to unspeakable pain and evil.
I'm sorry to admit that I became swallowed up in my own thoughts after that and lost the discussion, and by the time I returned the topic had moved on (we were discussing The Shack, and there's plenty there to talk about).
Here's what I was thinking, though. It's true that while my children are young, I protect them from the serious choices, choices that could mean the difference between life and death. I don't let Mane run out into the street or set herself on fire. But, very recently, I've been faced with the fact that I cannot do that with Vespera. I cannot protect her from every choice that has the potential to harm her.
If I remove her choice, her freedom, even in cases where her life could be in danger, I destroy our relationship. I'm willing to beg, plead, and persuade when I think she's making an unwise choice. But if I cross over the line into removing her freedom, I open a chasm between us. We can talk, negotiate, and argue...unless I take away her freedom. Then I've shut down communication, broken the lines, built a wall, or whatever else you want to call it. And we are left with a quiet, empty chasm between us.
And God is a God of relationship, a God who wants to communicate with us, even if it's to argue and persuade. There's simply nothing to say if we don't have any choices. So, God gave us choices to keep our relationship.
I've been trying to post this for 3 days and keep changing it. So, go easy on me. I'd love a discussion if ya'll have anything to say, ask, or argue.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
If you ever wonder whether or not spanking is OK...
Here's a beautiful story I just read:
"Never Violence"
a story told by Astrid Lindgren
[Author of Pippi Longstocking]
"Above all, I believe that there should never be any violence." In 1978, Astrid Lindgren received the German Book Trade Peace Prize for her literary contributions. In acceptance, she told the following story.
"When I was about 20 years old, I met an old pastor's wife who told me that when she was young and had her first child, she didn't believe in striking children, although spanking kids with a switch pulled from a tree was standard punishment at the time. But one day when her son was four or five, he did something that she felt warranted a spanking - the first of his life. And she told him that he would have to go outside and find a switch for her to hit him with. The boy was gone a long time. And when he came back in, he was crying. He said to her, "Mama, I couldn't find a switch, but here's a rock that you can throw at me."
All of a sudden the mother understood how the situation felt from the child's point of view: that if my mother wants to hurt me, then it makes no difference what she does it with; she might as well do it with a stone. And the mother took the boy onto her lap and they both cried. Then she laid the rock on a shelf in the kitchen to remind herself forever: never violence. And that is something I think everyone should keep in mind. Because violence begins in the nursery - one can raise children into violence."
I think that too often we fail to feel situations "from the child's point of view," and that failure leads us to teach our children other than what we think we're teaching them.
"Never Violence"
a story told by Astrid Lindgren
[Author of Pippi Longstocking]
"Above all, I believe that there should never be any violence." In 1978, Astrid Lindgren received the German Book Trade Peace Prize for her literary contributions. In acceptance, she told the following story.
"When I was about 20 years old, I met an old pastor's wife who told me that when she was young and had her first child, she didn't believe in striking children, although spanking kids with a switch pulled from a tree was standard punishment at the time. But one day when her son was four or five, he did something that she felt warranted a spanking - the first of his life. And she told him that he would have to go outside and find a switch for her to hit him with. The boy was gone a long time. And when he came back in, he was crying. He said to her, "Mama, I couldn't find a switch, but here's a rock that you can throw at me."
All of a sudden the mother understood how the situation felt from the child's point of view: that if my mother wants to hurt me, then it makes no difference what she does it with; she might as well do it with a stone. And the mother took the boy onto her lap and they both cried. Then she laid the rock on a shelf in the kitchen to remind herself forever: never violence. And that is something I think everyone should keep in mind. Because violence begins in the nursery - one can raise children into violence."
I think that too often we fail to feel situations "from the child's point of view," and that failure leads us to teach our children other than what we think we're teaching them.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Thoughts on Parenting
To understand how I think about parenting you have to know that I believe parents need to be on the same team as their children. Maybe coaching, sometimes playing, always on the same side. I've never stepped in line with the advice that says your children don't need to like you, they just need to do what you say or that a parent's job is not to be their child's friend. See, if your children are going to do what you say and live by those things, internalize your advice and make it their own, they pretty much need to like you. ...not that our children don't get angry with us or think we're being unfair sometimes, but that we need to nurture genuine relationship, actual fondness and liking between ourselves and our children in order to have a long term impact on them.
Ok, so that's the background. Here's what I keep running into: How to not feel like a failure when the "team" isn't functioning all that well. If we're a team and there isn't some big authoritative gap between us, how do I not internalize my child's failures? How do I not take it personally when they're angry with me.
...or, um, maybe I need to take it personally, but in a different way. Is this complicated or what? I need to take it personally, in that I need to care how my child is feeling and make an effort to repair the relationship, just as I would with anyone else. But I don't need view myself (or them, either) as a failure when the "team" isn't playing very well.
Maybe I hit on it right there. Having crabby days, complete with that disrespectful voice, foot stomping and eye rolling doesn't make anyone a failure...not me, and not my child. Yeah, it's my job to teach, to help my children learn what's ok and what's not in the way we treat other people and the way we live our lives. But failing to do it right or do it well doesn't make us failures. It makes us humans who are learning and growing every day.
I don't want to parent out of fear...fear that my children won't turn out well if I don't do everything right, fear that I'm a failure if my kids aren't conducting themselves all that well fear of what other people are going to think of me or my children. I think it's when I parent out of those fears, actually, that I make the most mistakes. I react in a way that's intended to get whatever behavior to stop but not in a way that actually teaches anything. When I'm afraid of what other people are going to think, I get controlling, threatening, angry. When I stop and think about what I'm teaching rather than getting all wrapped up in appearances and fears, I gain some patience, humor, and grace.
I want to play on the same team with my kids. Together we can learn what we need to know to get through this life.
Ok, so that's the background. Here's what I keep running into: How to not feel like a failure when the "team" isn't functioning all that well. If we're a team and there isn't some big authoritative gap between us, how do I not internalize my child's failures? How do I not take it personally when they're angry with me.
...or, um, maybe I need to take it personally, but in a different way. Is this complicated or what? I need to take it personally, in that I need to care how my child is feeling and make an effort to repair the relationship, just as I would with anyone else. But I don't need view myself (or them, either) as a failure when the "team" isn't playing very well.
Maybe I hit on it right there. Having crabby days, complete with that disrespectful voice, foot stomping and eye rolling doesn't make anyone a failure...not me, and not my child. Yeah, it's my job to teach, to help my children learn what's ok and what's not in the way we treat other people and the way we live our lives. But failing to do it right or do it well doesn't make us failures. It makes us humans who are learning and growing every day.
I don't want to parent out of fear...fear that my children won't turn out well if I don't do everything right, fear that I'm a failure if my kids aren't conducting themselves all that well fear of what other people are going to think of me or my children. I think it's when I parent out of those fears, actually, that I make the most mistakes. I react in a way that's intended to get whatever behavior to stop but not in a way that actually teaches anything. When I'm afraid of what other people are going to think, I get controlling, threatening, angry. When I stop and think about what I'm teaching rather than getting all wrapped up in appearances and fears, I gain some patience, humor, and grace.
I want to play on the same team with my kids. Together we can learn what we need to know to get through this life.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Grandparents of Healing
I think most parents want a life with as little suffering as possible for their children. Most of us would give everything we have to protect our children from needless pain. I'm not talking about keeping them happy all the time. This isn't a post about permissive parenting, about giving kids everything they want so they never feel sad. I'm talking about real suffering. ...the suffering of being hurt emotionally and physically by other people, the suffering of racial prejudice, hunger, disease, and fear.
Mango & I have the good fortune of being able to keep Mane safe from a lot of life's suffering right now. We won't be able to protect her from everything forever, but we will have given her a good place to start from...like that wall-hanging that says, "Home is where your story begins." We can build a foundation for her. We can help her walk out into life as a whole human being, having not been harmed by abuse or neglect or even hunger. She will have grown up in a place where people love her, where her parents love each other, where people have set an example of how to serve each other and also set healthy boundaries.
This is something we have not been able to do for Vespera, and I am just now coming to a place where I can even speak of it. Our hearts are wrung and compressed by the weight of her stories sometimes. We would give anything and everything, to keep her safe, and to have kept her safe as a child. Yet it is somehow too arrogant for us to assume that she would have wanted that. Or that we would somehow have been the answer. If we had been able to give her a place to live her whole life long, where she did not suffer, she would not be who she is today. She would not have the connection to her culture or her birth family, and we could never ever take those things from her. We must, instead, bear witness to the pain because we were not there to prevent it. We will hear those things and hold them in our hearts and let the pain pierce us, too, because there is very little else that we can do.
...except to become grandparents of healing. My Montana friend said that to me the other day, and the phrase stuck with me. Mango & I can provide a place where Vespera finds a balm and a healing. And someday she will have children, and those children will have a different legacy. ...and we will be grandparents of healing, grandparents of children who will be protected from suffering in the same way that we protect Mane...not from all suffering, but from specifically the types of things that parents were put here on earth to prevent...abuse, neglect, abandonment...and the aftermath of brokenness that follows from those types of suffering.
Something I learned when I was studying therapy and that I have found to be profoundly true in life is that people cannot make different and better choices for their own children until and unless they are willing to face the reality of the things that have caused them suffering in their own lives. It's hard to make different choices unless and until you do the work of healing. And the work of healing requires space, time, and, often, the presence of loving people.
So, we are here to provide the space for healing for Vespera, to be the loving people, to cover that space with prayer, and to offer what little bit of wisdom we have. We are here to witness the beautiful things that often come in the healing, the depth and joy and contentment that can come of having known sorrow. ...so that we might be parents of whole and deep, intense, passionate, vibrant, compassionate children...and, someday, grandparents of healing.
The song by Point of Grace called The House That Mercy Built comes to mind. I claimed it as a song for my house long before I knew all that would transpire there, and I claim it for this house here, too.
Mango & I have the good fortune of being able to keep Mane safe from a lot of life's suffering right now. We won't be able to protect her from everything forever, but we will have given her a good place to start from...like that wall-hanging that says, "Home is where your story begins." We can build a foundation for her. We can help her walk out into life as a whole human being, having not been harmed by abuse or neglect or even hunger. She will have grown up in a place where people love her, where her parents love each other, where people have set an example of how to serve each other and also set healthy boundaries.
This is something we have not been able to do for Vespera, and I am just now coming to a place where I can even speak of it. Our hearts are wrung and compressed by the weight of her stories sometimes. We would give anything and everything, to keep her safe, and to have kept her safe as a child. Yet it is somehow too arrogant for us to assume that she would have wanted that. Or that we would somehow have been the answer. If we had been able to give her a place to live her whole life long, where she did not suffer, she would not be who she is today. She would not have the connection to her culture or her birth family, and we could never ever take those things from her. We must, instead, bear witness to the pain because we were not there to prevent it. We will hear those things and hold them in our hearts and let the pain pierce us, too, because there is very little else that we can do.
...except to become grandparents of healing. My Montana friend said that to me the other day, and the phrase stuck with me. Mango & I can provide a place where Vespera finds a balm and a healing. And someday she will have children, and those children will have a different legacy. ...and we will be grandparents of healing, grandparents of children who will be protected from suffering in the same way that we protect Mane...not from all suffering, but from specifically the types of things that parents were put here on earth to prevent...abuse, neglect, abandonment...and the aftermath of brokenness that follows from those types of suffering.
Something I learned when I was studying therapy and that I have found to be profoundly true in life is that people cannot make different and better choices for their own children until and unless they are willing to face the reality of the things that have caused them suffering in their own lives. It's hard to make different choices unless and until you do the work of healing. And the work of healing requires space, time, and, often, the presence of loving people.
So, we are here to provide the space for healing for Vespera, to be the loving people, to cover that space with prayer, and to offer what little bit of wisdom we have. We are here to witness the beautiful things that often come in the healing, the depth and joy and contentment that can come of having known sorrow. ...so that we might be parents of whole and deep, intense, passionate, vibrant, compassionate children...and, someday, grandparents of healing.
The song by Point of Grace called The House That Mercy Built comes to mind. I claimed it as a song for my house long before I knew all that would transpire there, and I claim it for this house here, too.
A light in the distance
Welcomes those wayfaring souls
Come this far
A heart grows tired, faith grows cold
Wandering down the winding road
Just simply knock, the door will open
There is a house that mercy built
There is a place where brokenness is healed
There is a voice saying peace be still
There is a house that mercy built
Mercy will find you
Though you've given up
In the middle of what seems like nowhere
He'll shelter you beneath His wing
His love will cover every need
Just simply seek and you will find
There is a house that mercy built
There is a place where emptiness is filled
There is a voice saying peace be still
There is a house that mercy built
There is a house that mercy built
With blood and tears
We've nothing left to fear
We live in grace
Here in the safe embrace of God
The mercy of God
There is a house that mercy built
There is a place where grace has
Been revealed
There is a voice saying peace be still
There is a house that mercy built
Rest in the hope
Rest in the peace
There is a house that mercy built
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