I am homeschooling my 3rd grader this year. One of the main reasons we take a couple of years to home school each kid is to give them some real life experience as they grow up. A strict public school schedule doesn't allow for much extra. When I heard about a rally in Columbia in support of the homeless population, we decided to take off. Of course, my kindergartner tagged along also. I was the only person there with kids, so I got interviewed on TV.
http://www.wistv.com/story/23270273/protestors-push-back-on-columbia-city-councils-homeless-plan
I have my kids yelling and pulling on my back pack while I am talking, so I had really hoped they wouldn't show it. Plus, I looked pretty rough. I really hadn't intended to be in TV, or have my statements made public. I've, in many ways, backed off being on stage. I'm still working on things behind stage, don't get me wrong. I have nothing to hide, I just got tired of all the attention I was getting at one point. Infamous was the word a bishop used with me (as in well-known).
With all of the attention give to the 50th anniversary of the "I have a Dream" speech, my husband and I have had some conversations. We both expressed hope that we would have taken part in the March on Washington. During this Homeless Awareness Rally, I met a white woman who stated she was arrested 4 times during the civil rights era. She talked about her husband finding out and packing up the three babies and trying to figure out what jail she was in. I looked at her and said "I'd like to think I would have been working with you." Then I realized: I'm with you now.
This woman also confessed to working in a homeless shelter for many years. She and her husband volunteer every Sunday and holiday, "We don't go to church." My response was simply "That is what church is supposed to be."
I'm intrigued at the fact that my voice was heard and broad casted in Columbia. I'm intrigued that I did this protest and interview without hesitation. I guess I've decided to stop hiding behind rules and expectations. I am finding it incredibly freeing in this white southern culture. I'm starting to be confident and my voice and whatever message I might bring.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
The mall
We walked out to the parking lot carrying our bags and my 5 year old announced "It was a good day at the mall!" This melted my heart as I tried not to think about how big she has gotten. Yesterday, she announced she was getting her ears pierced. This required a trip to the dreaded mall. I really hate going there because we always spend more money than we have. After her comment, I figured it was worth it.
Our house has had a baby in it since 1997. It is all over when this beautiful girl starts kindergarten next week. Where did it all go?
Monday, July 15, 2013
Emotional Reserve
When my baby was 1 day old, the midwife came by for the checkup. After it was over, she turns to my husband and looks at him square in the eye. "At this point in recovering, your wife has about a 5 minute emotional reserve." We all laughed. Later that day, we would find out that she was wrong. It was about 2 minutes.
I was so glad to have this bit of wisdom in my post partum time. It helped me feel better about the complete meltdowns and sheer sense of panic when unexpected things came up. I had every reason to have depleted my emotional reserve with the work in birthing a baby. I enjoyed the validation and love that came. I also was able to accept my own limits without expecting rescue. I could just feel what I was feeling.
This summer, I have been working nights. Once again, I have watched my emotional reserves dwindle as I loose sleep and rest. I've realized there are quite a few times in my life when my reserves have dipped, and I had not paid attention to them. Instead of paying attention, I ended up finding myself exhausted and completely depleted. It is hard to build reserves back up from a negative. I've learned to start paying attention sooner. I also value friends who understand "I've over extended myself, sorry."
I used to think that taking care of myself was simply selfish. I should feel guilty for pulling back and saying no. This, of course, means that I have one more reminder of how inadequate I am. In a culture where you are valued for all that you do, I have to be happy with who I am.
I hope that I can head into a world where people look for emotional sustainability. A place where we can learn when to rest and when to work. In this place, I wouldn't be judged. In this place, people wouldn't express great concern. They'd simply be able to recognize exhaustion. Perhaps, they would recognize it in themselves and spend time building their own reserves without taking away from others.
I was so glad to have this bit of wisdom in my post partum time. It helped me feel better about the complete meltdowns and sheer sense of panic when unexpected things came up. I had every reason to have depleted my emotional reserve with the work in birthing a baby. I enjoyed the validation and love that came. I also was able to accept my own limits without expecting rescue. I could just feel what I was feeling.
This summer, I have been working nights. Once again, I have watched my emotional reserves dwindle as I loose sleep and rest. I've realized there are quite a few times in my life when my reserves have dipped, and I had not paid attention to them. Instead of paying attention, I ended up finding myself exhausted and completely depleted. It is hard to build reserves back up from a negative. I've learned to start paying attention sooner. I also value friends who understand "I've over extended myself, sorry."
I used to think that taking care of myself was simply selfish. I should feel guilty for pulling back and saying no. This, of course, means that I have one more reminder of how inadequate I am. In a culture where you are valued for all that you do, I have to be happy with who I am.
I hope that I can head into a world where people look for emotional sustainability. A place where we can learn when to rest and when to work. In this place, I wouldn't be judged. In this place, people wouldn't express great concern. They'd simply be able to recognize exhaustion. Perhaps, they would recognize it in themselves and spend time building their own reserves without taking away from others.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Provoke
Colossians 3:21
21 Fathers, do not provoke your children, lest they become discouraged.
Parents and other parent figures hold a special place in people's lives. I've read a great deal about parenting as leadership. As most psychologists would tell you, parents have an immense impact on a child. In my struggles to define myself as a parent, I decided I would accept the fact that I was extremely powerful in my kid's psyches. I realized that I really do set a tone with them. Ultimately, how we function as a family reflects my inner station. This was a very, very hard realization to come to. I would really rather abdicate my position in my child's life to everything else. More importantly, I could be less of an authority and more of a passenger to things. In our culture, most leaders blame the followers for any mistake. So parents can just blame their kids.
I think the problem comes in when we realize that parents have the unique ability to provoke their children. No one can make a child cry quite as effectively as his own dad. Moms reside at a very intimate and vulnerable space. Therefore, we parents have a great power. We can use that power to provoke anger. And we can also use that power to heal.
I read a book a couple of years ago about this exact scripture. I stammered about for the whole day realizing that a child's anger is provoked. Children, inherently don't have anger. It is a secondary emotion following fear. I had to look at myself in the mirror and realize that my child's anger was being provoked. In a more excruciating moment, I realized that I was provoking it.
I grew up in a household full of anxiety and anger. For me, it can be the only emotion that makes sense. It is a place I easily go. It is a place I can send my kids to make me feel more comfortable. And sadly, at age 40, I remain easily provoked. Tonight, unable to sleep, I looked at my bookshelf full of books on enlightenment, parenting, leadership, psychology. I keep reaching for that next book that is going to make this all better for me, for my family. I keep wondering why I struggle so much in these aspects of life. I wonder when the struggle will end. Then, I take a sip of wine and realize that the day I quite struggling is the day I die. My journey towards understanding continues. I pray that it serves someone. Most importantly, I hope it serves this next generation I have living in my house. Perhaps they will be able to sleep at night and not struggle to unburden themselves from past generations.
Parents and other parent figures hold a special place in people's lives. I've read a great deal about parenting as leadership. As most psychologists would tell you, parents have an immense impact on a child. In my struggles to define myself as a parent, I decided I would accept the fact that I was extremely powerful in my kid's psyches. I realized that I really do set a tone with them. Ultimately, how we function as a family reflects my inner station. This was a very, very hard realization to come to. I would really rather abdicate my position in my child's life to everything else. More importantly, I could be less of an authority and more of a passenger to things. In our culture, most leaders blame the followers for any mistake. So parents can just blame their kids.
I think the problem comes in when we realize that parents have the unique ability to provoke their children. No one can make a child cry quite as effectively as his own dad. Moms reside at a very intimate and vulnerable space. Therefore, we parents have a great power. We can use that power to provoke anger. And we can also use that power to heal.
I read a book a couple of years ago about this exact scripture. I stammered about for the whole day realizing that a child's anger is provoked. Children, inherently don't have anger. It is a secondary emotion following fear. I had to look at myself in the mirror and realize that my child's anger was being provoked. In a more excruciating moment, I realized that I was provoking it.
I grew up in a household full of anxiety and anger. For me, it can be the only emotion that makes sense. It is a place I easily go. It is a place I can send my kids to make me feel more comfortable. And sadly, at age 40, I remain easily provoked. Tonight, unable to sleep, I looked at my bookshelf full of books on enlightenment, parenting, leadership, psychology. I keep reaching for that next book that is going to make this all better for me, for my family. I keep wondering why I struggle so much in these aspects of life. I wonder when the struggle will end. Then, I take a sip of wine and realize that the day I quite struggling is the day I die. My journey towards understanding continues. I pray that it serves someone. Most importantly, I hope it serves this next generation I have living in my house. Perhaps they will be able to sleep at night and not struggle to unburden themselves from past generations.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Out loud
I love singing along with Alanis Morissette when I get distressed about something. She always seems to have one of those songs I can sing at the top of my lungs with. Of course, I only sing out loud in my car. I struggle with singing out loud with people. When I went to a recent retreat, I almost had a complete meltdown because it was a small group I was expected to chant with. I really needed affirmation from someone before I would allow my voice to be heard. I was so afraid of offending some one's ears, or being mocked. It sounds a big childish, but it is my experience. It is also my experience that when I use my voice to express dissent, people turn away from me. In the past, I would rather be voiceless than to loose friends.
As with any childhood issue, things creep up all the time. Sometimes, those issues combine into one event. Having been raised in an Evangelical Church, I have struggled with ministers interjecting themselves into my relationship with God. There seems to be an entitlement with this exact issue, especially in the South. I was at the ball field one day when another mother walked up to me and commented on the cross I was wearing. She went on to start lecturing me about something to do with professing things by word. I was standing there in shock, shaking and wondering what I should do. I started going back at her and arguing. I even managed to quote some scripture, and I watched as her husband came up and had to pull her away.
So finding my voice with people who choose to place themselves in between me and God is hard for me. It is even harder to reconcile it when I realize that someone seems to read this blog simply looking for a vulnerable spot to hook me with. I write things and share them as part of a conversation, not a place to be told what I am, or what I need to do.
So, swallowing my fear of being heard out loud, and combining that with my fear of causing conflict, I get to make a conscious choice. Quite frankly, I don't think it is fair that I have to do it. I make sincere efforts not to interject my beliefs into someone else's relationship with God, and I expect the same sort of respect from others. I welcome any dialogue and real conversation. But, I do not welcome someone coming up to me to tell me that I am a 'tortured Catholic'. This simply isn't true and it is an unwelcome intrusion. So the time has come for me to use my voice. Since real conversation isn't possible, I'll just post it here and hope that it is heard.
"Back off"
As with any childhood issue, things creep up all the time. Sometimes, those issues combine into one event. Having been raised in an Evangelical Church, I have struggled with ministers interjecting themselves into my relationship with God. There seems to be an entitlement with this exact issue, especially in the South. I was at the ball field one day when another mother walked up to me and commented on the cross I was wearing. She went on to start lecturing me about something to do with professing things by word. I was standing there in shock, shaking and wondering what I should do. I started going back at her and arguing. I even managed to quote some scripture, and I watched as her husband came up and had to pull her away.
So finding my voice with people who choose to place themselves in between me and God is hard for me. It is even harder to reconcile it when I realize that someone seems to read this blog simply looking for a vulnerable spot to hook me with. I write things and share them as part of a conversation, not a place to be told what I am, or what I need to do.
So, swallowing my fear of being heard out loud, and combining that with my fear of causing conflict, I get to make a conscious choice. Quite frankly, I don't think it is fair that I have to do it. I make sincere efforts not to interject my beliefs into someone else's relationship with God, and I expect the same sort of respect from others. I welcome any dialogue and real conversation. But, I do not welcome someone coming up to me to tell me that I am a 'tortured Catholic'. This simply isn't true and it is an unwelcome intrusion. So the time has come for me to use my voice. Since real conversation isn't possible, I'll just post it here and hope that it is heard.
"Back off"
Saturday, June 8, 2013
A green lawn
I do most important things on the spur of the moment. It seems that if I think too much, I tend to hold back from doing things that are important. This morning I told my daughter I wanted to go with her to a Baptism at the lake for 2 friends of hers. She said I had 5 minutes to get ready, so I hurried.
I justified my decision to go by wanting to give my 4 year old the experience of witnessing a Baptism by full immersion. This is something that is rare in the Liturgical Churches we have brought our kids up in. In those communities, Baptism's tend to be very structured and polished. For 3 of our children was used antique Christening gowns with jewelry. We all dressed up in our finest and were expected to behave perfectly. My youngest was Baptized in a hand made gown by someone who has forgotten we exist and this has left me very, very sad.
So this morning when we arrived at a friend's back yard on the lake, my 4 year old took off running across it. She played tag with one of her friends and started giggling. This caused me to flash back to another event in my life that caused me to see important things from a different perspective. The first funeral I remember going to had been a very, very solemn occasion. I remember wanting to play with my cousins, but I was instructed that I was not allowed to have any fun 'out of respect'. I was taught that feeling sad and miserable was what the family wanted, so I did. A couple of years later, I would attend a funeral with a very different family. I distinctly remember my cousins taking off across my grandmother's green lawn to play tag. I immediately felt guilty, having been taught that play and laughter at a funeral was taboo. So, when I approached my grandmother, she wanted me to see it differently. She said, "Of course you can play." I was invited to enjoy myself and celebrate the life of the one who had left us. This was not a time to be miserable, it was a time to rejoice. In fact, my grandmother asked me to make sure the kids played tag at her funeral. The day of her funeral was beautiful, and we rejoiced.
I'm trying to find that place in my life where I leave behind these instructions to be sad a miserable. I'm not sure how to do this, as this seems to betray something. I'm not sure what, and I'm not sure why I write this for the world to read. I've found myself in a conversation with the church again, and this leaves me feeling vulnerable or woundable. I don't like this feeling, and I am sure I can think my way out of it. I hope that I'll find the courage to keep trusting and walking and doing things on the spur of the moment. Watching and remembering running across a green lawn seems like a pretty good step. Pray for me that I continue.
I justified my decision to go by wanting to give my 4 year old the experience of witnessing a Baptism by full immersion. This is something that is rare in the Liturgical Churches we have brought our kids up in. In those communities, Baptism's tend to be very structured and polished. For 3 of our children was used antique Christening gowns with jewelry. We all dressed up in our finest and were expected to behave perfectly. My youngest was Baptized in a hand made gown by someone who has forgotten we exist and this has left me very, very sad.
So this morning when we arrived at a friend's back yard on the lake, my 4 year old took off running across it. She played tag with one of her friends and started giggling. This caused me to flash back to another event in my life that caused me to see important things from a different perspective. The first funeral I remember going to had been a very, very solemn occasion. I remember wanting to play with my cousins, but I was instructed that I was not allowed to have any fun 'out of respect'. I was taught that feeling sad and miserable was what the family wanted, so I did. A couple of years later, I would attend a funeral with a very different family. I distinctly remember my cousins taking off across my grandmother's green lawn to play tag. I immediately felt guilty, having been taught that play and laughter at a funeral was taboo. So, when I approached my grandmother, she wanted me to see it differently. She said, "Of course you can play." I was invited to enjoy myself and celebrate the life of the one who had left us. This was not a time to be miserable, it was a time to rejoice. In fact, my grandmother asked me to make sure the kids played tag at her funeral. The day of her funeral was beautiful, and we rejoiced.
I'm trying to find that place in my life where I leave behind these instructions to be sad a miserable. I'm not sure how to do this, as this seems to betray something. I'm not sure what, and I'm not sure why I write this for the world to read. I've found myself in a conversation with the church again, and this leaves me feeling vulnerable or woundable. I don't like this feeling, and I am sure I can think my way out of it. I hope that I'll find the courage to keep trusting and walking and doing things on the spur of the moment. Watching and remembering running across a green lawn seems like a pretty good step. Pray for me that I continue.
Friday, June 7, 2013
Party!
Somehow, I think we end up searching for great things. We look for the big, huge parties with days of preparation. We want the wedding that is perfect and took an entire year to plan. We plan for Baptisms, Confirmations, Ordinations, all the rites of growing up. In many ways, these are important rites and should be recognized. Yet, sometimes, I think we do it at the expense of spontaneity and friendship.
Over the past 16 years of being a parent, I have gotten better at parties. I've tried to pay attention to what is important, and what is not. I've finally learned that most kids are very low maintenance. They really just want to feel comfortable and relax with friends. I've even turned the planning over to my teen, and developed the art of hanging back.
Today, my house filled up with teenagers. I get to enjoy listening to the giggling, joking and all around fun atmosphere. Forty bucks worth of pizza is all it took to take care of this end of the school year party. I've come a long way from the high levels of anxiety I had in years past. It seems the more I fretted and planned, the less people came. Now that I just leave everything up to chance, the house fills up. There is something about just breathing into the rhythms of life and opening up yourself to what is. I'm glad I've found this part out, it sure makes life easier.
My favorite part of today is that all of the kids here are welcome. I've got my three younger kids, and they just blended right in with the teenagers who had to step over barbie dolls to get to the TV. There is no one fighting for control or attention. Its just a sweet gathering of kids who decided to swim in the pool even though it is raining.
My favorite part of today is that all of the kids here are welcome. I've got my three younger kids, and they just blended right in with the teenagers who had to step over barbie dolls to get to the TV. There is no one fighting for control or attention. Its just a sweet gathering of kids who decided to swim in the pool even though it is raining.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)