My Last Best Word

How does it feel to come in last place? 

If you're answer isn't "Pretty darn rotten," then I would like to know your secret.  Finishing last has to be one of the most horrifying, humiliating, and helpless feelings in the entire world.  I know.  I've been there.  When I was in the fifth grade, I signed up for the local track team.  I had been running with my dad for weeks, but when it came time for that first race, I was completely unprepared for the competition.  I'll never forget the image of my cartoon character body, running and running, but somehow not moving.  Throngs of people raced by me.  I even got lapped.  Yes, it's hard to type those words.  I got lapped.  Clearly, I didn't understand pacing, and I never even bothered to evaluate my competition prior to the race.  More than twenty-five years later it's still horrifying and humiliating because in my memory I was helpless to do anything about it.

How did I respond?  Well, it was four long years before I ran again.  I forbid anyone from my family to attend the meets.  Woe to the person who even hinted at coming to one of my races!  On the day of the race, butterflies invaded my stomach and I turned into a ball of nervous energy.  I dreaded every single race.  My biggest fear:   Coming in last.  To this day, I can't tell you why I ran.  Whether it was peer pressure or an innate desire to prove something to myself, I ran, though I never became a super-star.  I did what I was supposed to do.  I attended every practice and weight training session.  I ate right.  I drank lots of water.  Then,  I counted down the weeks until the nightmare was over.  At the end of the season, to my great surprise, I even qualified for regionals.  Accckkkk!!!  Is there no mercy for the weary?

It's one thing to come in last; it's quite another to be picked last.  And believe me, I've had my share of those, too.  As a child, I was shy and soft-spoken.  There was a huge gap between the me I was (shy, soft-spoken, and insecure) and the me I wanted to be (dynamic, chatty, and interesting).  That "me" was buried so deep that no one ever saw it.  And since they could only evaluate what they saw, no one placed much confidence in me.  Except my dad.  The same one who ran with me, who encouraged me to keep running, and who said, "It's OK" when I came in last.  Whenever he could, he also said, "You're good enough.  You're pretty enough.  You're smart enough".   Even if no one wanted me to be on their team.  He did.  And that was enough.

Now I have a daughter who is just like me.  She's twelve, so she's trying like crazy to assure the world that she is nothing like me.  But just yesterday, she too, was picked last.  And my heart broke.  Because I know how that feels.  It's humiliating and horrifying.  Maybe she felt helpless, too, but as her mother I was the one who felt helpless.  I wanted to march up to that school and tell the world, "Look what you're missing!  Look at this beautiful, creative girl!  How could you not want her on your team? You're all a bunch of idiots!" 

Instead, Gavin took her in her arms, and he said, "You are good enough.  God made you, and he loves you, and no matter what happens, girl, don't you ever forget that.  As you get older, you'll find people looking for validation in all kinds of places and from all kinds of people.  But you--you remember that God made you.  He's the only one that matters."

We were all together when she softly admitted her sadness, so I'm glad that I got to say, "If you lined up all the kids in the entire world end to end and I had to choose any one of them as a daughter for myself, guess what?  I would choose you.  I'll always choose you."

I'm not sure what kind of teacher allows Middle Schoolers to pick teams.  Even worse, I'm not sure what kind of a teacher doesn't allow the kid who was picked last the day before to be a team captain on the second day she initiates this nonsense.  But in a weird way I'm kind of thankful that it was my kid.  I'm not winning any Outstanding Parenting Awards, but if there's one thing I understand it's that people matter.  Words matter.  As a mother, I have a unique opportunity to speak truth into my children's lives.  I get to share Jesus with them.  I'm thankful that I have a dad who showed me that I matter even when I came in last.  And I got to share it with the kid who came in last.  My kid.  (Oh, the irony of the whole thing!)  If it had been anyone else's daughter, I wouldn't have been able to tell her that she matters.  That she's important.

Earlier this week, in this same class, my daughter came home with a failing grade on a project/presentation.  She worked for weeks on the project.  She researched her subject and made a beautiful visual aid.  But she bombed the oral presentation.  See?  I told you she was shy like me.  We're working on it, but she doesn't know how to look an audience in the eye and make a compelling presentation.  Fail.  Fail.  Fail.  Last place.

Traditional school boasts many fine qualities, not the least of which is the high value it places on healthy competition.  When a child doesn't perform up to standard, though, does the school also have a responsibility to help that child navigate the disappointment, inspire them to achieve more next time, and validate their personhood, even while condemning their academic performance?  In spite of the separation of church and state, I wish that Christian principles governed the way our schools respond to the kids they're entrusted to teach.  They spout rhetoric about self-esteem and standing up to bullies, but is anyone really listening?  How would our schools be different if everyone just did what Jesus did and considered others better than themselves?  Wouldn't it be easy to say no to drugs if a child understood how much God loves her?  Would the "cool" table even exist?  Would we need it?  Would the lowest performing kids hang their heads and cause trouble at every turn?  Would kids be tempted to give in to the selfishness and greed that comes from comparing themselves to an unattainable standard found in magazines and on TV?

I doubt it because the Christian principle that would address so many of these issues is simply this:  Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit.  Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others (Philippians 2:3-4 NIV).

Problem solved.

The Benefits of Boredom

We didn't go anywhere on Spring Break this year.  As the academic year winds down, I realize that we've had no less than six weeks off school, in addition to a number of teacher furlough days.  If our family traveled every time there was a school holiday, we would surely be in the poor house.  Of course, I'm perfectly okay with that.  As a mom of four kids ages 4-12, I'm never bored.  My four kids ages 4-12, however, are always bored.

I didn't even realize that we were the only ones home this week until I got on Facebook and saw everyone's beach vacation pictures.  Now, there's something that will take the wind right out of your sails.  I was sitting there all content catching up on my laundry and spring de-cluttering when all of a sudden I realized that the rest of the world was lolling the day away in a sunny paradise.  I thought, We have to do something!  The kids can't go back to school on Monday after having been home all week!  What will they write about when the teacher asks them to take out their journal and compose the dreaded theme:  "What I Did on Spring Break"?.

But the thing is--we really didn't go anywhere.  We couldn't.  I'm trying to start a little non-profit and the van needs new tires and well, we just spent several days vacationing out of town in February.  And honestly, with the way time is flying these days, that just seems like yesterday.  So back to point:  I'm never bored.  I'm completely engrossed in a Stephen King novel and I'm doing a little writing and I'm researching this nonprofit thing, and every morning the kids are waking up and the first thing out of their mouths is, "What are we doing today?"

Blah.

I'm just thrilled I'm not getting up at 5:00 AM to squeeze in my workout before getting the kids up for school and I'm thanking the good Lord that we're eating dinner as a family every single night because no one is rushing off to soccer practice and I'm relaxing with my book and my laptop in the evening because I'm not having to help anyone with homework.  Truly, if there is a heaven on earth this is it.

I don't need a beach.

And yet everyday during the last week, I heard the words, "I'm bored" at least four times because each kid had to say it at least once.  We watered the neighbors plants, we planted our own garden, we decorated cookies and Easter eggs and made s'mores in our backyard fireplace.  We played at the park and stopped at Starbucks for hot chocolate--just because.  We turned on the lawn sprinklers and played make-believe store.  How can we say we're bored?  Our family played together.  Did you get that?  We stayed home and played.

Like I told you, I'm never bored.  But these four kids (ages 4-12), well, I don't think they are either.  It took a couple of days, but once they got used to the space they figured out how to fill it all by themselves.  We didn't have to go anywhere on an airplane.  And we didn't uncover this secret by digging in the sand.  Boredom doesn't have a chance in a realm where space and time intersect.  Creativity flourishes, and ultimately four kids (ages 4-12) realized how much they really do love being together.  But don't ask them about that.  They would never admit it.  Ask them about their Spring Break, and the answer you'll probably get is, "We didn't get to go anywhere!  And my mom is so boring!"

Oh, well.  I'll take boring over broke any day of the week.

Tradition Schmadition

It's December 26th, and when Christmas is over at our house, IT IS OVER.  Although the tree still stands and the stockings still hang, I am anxious to resume the order that normally characterizes our home.

From Thanksgiving to December 25th, however, I am all about the traditions that signify Christmas for me.  The "comfort and joy" of the famous carol are rooted in the tradition of the season. 

I overheard two friends chatting the other day.  One said, "It just doesn't seem like Christmas this year."  The other asked the obvious:  "Why not?"  Her friend answered, "I don't know.  I guess it's because we didn't do a lot of our usual stuff."

The "usual stuff" actually matters a lot.  For one, it tells my children that we are intentional about celebrating Christmas.  We think it's important.  We love God, and Jesus' birthday is a pretty special day.  By taking time to establish the traditions, we also reap the benefits of a full month of deliberate family togetherness.  Even though December can be pretty crazy, it's a beautiful kind of crazy, devoid of the high-strung angst that normally characterizes days governed by school and work.

If you haven't already done this, here's six ways to establish traditions that stick.

1.  Establish traditions that bind the family together.  Beginning on December 1st, the Elf on the Shelf arrives at our house.  His escapades are always fun, and the kids look forward to being the first to find him every morning.  He is a tricky little elf!  We also hang an  Advent calendar that my sister-in-law made for us.  Every child, from the youngest to the oldest, loves to plunge his/her hands in the deep pockets and feel for the treat of the day.  It might be a small piece of candy, a game, or an activity that the family can share.  The daily element of surprise adds a bit of fun and builds anticipation.

2.  Establish traditions that work within the framework of your family's unique schedule.  Since my husband is a pastor, we rarely get to spend the entire day together on Christmas Eve.  Years ago, we decided to do something easy, but fun, for dinner on Christmas Eve.  We make homemade pizzas.  Right now, the kids aren't very creative with their toppings, but they look forward to tossing the dough, stretching it into unique shapes, and decorating it with pepperoni, cheese, and veggies.  By the time they have finished and the pizzas are cooking, Gavin is usually back from tying up the loose ends at church.

3.  Establish traditions that you can share with others.  I love to purchase the largest undecorated gingerbread men I can find.  I put them in the freezer and throughout the month of January we bring them out when friends stop by for dinner.  Everyone loves to decorate and eat gingerbread, and seeing all the clever creations makes us all laugh.  I'll warn you:  It's messy, but worth it!

4.  Establish traditions that will grow as your children grow.  When I had my first child, I wanted to do something for her on Christmas that I would be able to do every year of her life.  Some families choose to purchase an ornament every year.  Others add to a charm bracelet or necklace.  I like to get my kids matching Christmas pajamas. They're getting older now, and on a regular day they would be mortified in matching jammies, but on Christmas they endure looking like overgrown elf clones.  And even though they might moan and groan, the smiles we capture we are priceless.  The other present they open on Christmas Eve is the gift of a new book or game.  As they grow, picture books have evolved into chapter books and fun family games. 

5.  Establish traditions that respect the reason for the season.  We love to read Christmas story found in Luke 2.  When our kids were little, Gavin or I would read the story out loud.  Now that they're older and fully capable of reading out loud themselves, they take turns reading a few sentences at a time.  This year, I finally thought to record their sweet voices arguing over whose turn it was, correcting each other, and finally finishing the story before tearing into the presents under the tree.  Good times.

6.  Establish traditions that are also rituals.  After baths and showers and when the wrapping is put away and the evidence from the pizza party discarded, we pile in the car to gaze at the beautiful lights that decorate our neighborhood.  I used to think Christmas was the tackiest time of the year, what with all those mismatched lights and white metal reindeer dotting peoples' yards, but now all that is festive simply brings a smile to my face.  I imagine small children begging their dads to wrap the bushes and trees with the twinkling lights.  I imagine the family togetherness being enjoyed in the cozy houses nestled between all those decorations. Our shared joy makes my heart swell just a little bit.  Whether beautiful, gaudy, sophisticated, or tacky, I'm going to peer out the foggy car window and "ooh" and "aah" because each little display is actually saying, "Merry Christmas" back to me.

Above all else, don't forget to attend a Christmas Eve service.   The traditions might make it feel like Christmas, but Jesus is Christmas.  Celebrating the season with other believers is where I truly experience God's gift, Jesus; he is Emmanuel, "God with us."  The traditions are meaningful, not just because my family is together, but because Jesus's birth make it possible to experience "God with us."

Season of Contentment

God is the creator of the universe, the ultimate wellspring of creativity, and I believe he bestows on people all the ideas for beauty and change in the world.  He plants these little seeds in the minds of many people, knowing that someone somewhere will choose to act upon that little nudge that really is God's voice inside his head . Although this blog is a tiny thing I write primarily for my own benefit, for me, it is a response to that little nudge. Somewhere, a long time ago, I loved to write—stories, poems, short plays---and read, too, anything I could get my hands on. I devoted whole days to writing and reading, and I never wanted to stop.  But somewhere along the way, LIFE got in the way, and the excruciating minutia of everyday living sucked the life right out of me. I got married, got a job, got pregnant, and got pregnant, and got pregnant, and got pregnant. Now, fifteen years and four kids later, there is time for little else but cooking, cleaning, washing, and serving. The ME person has begun to wither, as the little mini-MEs have begun to thrive. It is a beautiful time and a dark time. I think sometimes about that person that once was me and wonder where she went. Although it may be true that “Practice makes perfect,” sometimes I feel that I am JUST TRYING TO KEEP UP. There’s no time for practicing. This idea of practicing to make perfect has begun to haunt me. If I COULD practice, what would it be that I would be working on? What could be my thing? And wasn’t a little bit of practice better than no practice at all? And so here I am.  Writing a blog to myself.

We live in a very large neighborhood, and so to get from place to place I often drive our three-seater golf cart, (known affectionately by our friends as a "people transporter"). Today, as I was shuttling kids around the neighborhood during an afternoon ride, I ran into a new friend. She is starting her own business, partnering with two local businesses to do what she loves and what is clearly her gift during this season of economic instability. I felt energized after our conversation. Here lives a very talented and gifted person, with a husband and three kids, affluent, and who clearly doesn’t HAVE to go back to work. For her, this new opportunity is not work. Instead, it is an outlet for her God-given creative genius. She can’t NOT do this. The creativity is bubbling over. It’s eeking out of her pores. Her season is sprouting, and in the process those dormant buds that had been there all along are finally being tended and watered. Guess what? She’s blooming. Yes, she’s blooming where she’s planted!

Another friend in another town, equally as talented, equally as gifted, also has three kids. She’s frustrated by the incompleteness of her children’s public school education. She’s one of the most innovative and creative people that I know.  She’s the kind of person who throws theme birthday parties that are beyond anyone’s wildest dreams.  She dreams of bringing people together—through book clubs, wine tastings, vacations, etc.  She sees the potential in people and capitalizes on their strengths, encourages them in their weaknesses, and in the process emerges herself as an inspirational leader of a rag tag group of women.   Her frustration with the public education system has caused her to design a new, more innovative system that partners with parents in ways most people never even thought possible.

I have another dear friend who would love to have four kids, but instead, after a very difficult and dark season of infertility, embraces only one natural born child. Longing for what could be, she has not allowed herself to wallow in what may never be. Instead, she immersed herself in this season doing what she loves most—tirelessly working to bring God's love and provision to a remote village in Uganda, Africa. Here she is in an uncomfortable season, but with the resources and time to do the very thing that makes her feel most alive, she multiplies the investment of God's creativity in her.  Meanwhile, she has been working to bring an adopted daughter home from Ethiopia.  Trials and setbacks only made her praise God more fervently, allowed him to work in her more completely, and just yesterday she claimed her little girl as her own.

These are the people that inspire me. For now, though I write of a “season of contentment”, content is not something I feel every day. In fact, in the midst of the chaotic rough and tumble household that I call “home”,  I sometimes feel the very OPPOSITE of content. Contentment is something I have to CHOOSE.   It is a conscientious choice that I make every single morning. Rising before the sun rises, never stopping until the last child is tucked safely in her bed and the dishes are washed, the clothes are folded, the family room is straightened, and the next day’s lunches are packed, I have to choose to be OK with life’s messiness. I know that one day I will miss the dusty footprints and greasy fingerprints.  I pray the imprint they leave on my soul, though, will last a lifetime. If a little bit of me must die so that each of them can thrive, I will do it.   I CHOOSE contentment.  The reward is eternal.