Tuesday, July 22, 2014

To: Cleaning out my Closet & Teenagers Today

I recently cleaned out the closet in our guest bedroom.  And, believe me, it was easier said than done.  Somewhere in the past three years, this humble block of space had become the home for all things that don’t “have a place”.   You know what I’m talking about – not sure where something really belongs? – let’s throw it in that closet, and I’ll find a “real” place for it later.  Only, later never really comes and the closet begins to resemble something from that hoarding show… until you finally decide something has to be done.

Anyway, as I began to organize the small space (aka: pull it all out of the closet and dump it on the guest room floor and bed) I quickly realized everything fit into one of three categories:

1.     Stuff I Forgot We Owned But Nice to Have:  extra hangers, photos from my daughter’s early days, stationery, sharpies galore, high school scrapbooks for me and Daniel (because who wouldn’t want to see those glory days?!), and some Texas Rangers cups (from the years they were actually winning games and going to the World Series).
2.     Stuff I Knew We Owned But Don’t Use Often:  my maternity clothes, shower supplies (I’ve got enough linen, mason jars, & lace ribbon to knock the “shabby chic” look out of the park) Daniel’s suits, gift wrap stuff (no matter how much of it I own, I still never seem to have the appropriate sized/themed bag I’m looking for), craft supplies (I think I used to be “crafty” and utilize all of these cool paints, papers, and pens), & books (from my pre-Kindle days, obviously).
3.     Stuff I Forgot We Owned And Need to Find a New Home For:  picture frames I used in college (with the pictures still in them – reminding me that I haven’t always had dark circles under my eyes), the old car radio Daniel replaced in his truck last year (really??), and a box of notes and cards from my high school and college years.

That’s right - a box of notes and cards from my high school and college years.  I didn’t even know this box existed, and it was only a matter of time before my productive day of organizing the closet turned into a trip down memory lane. 

I found old pictures, funny notes from friends, inspirational quotes from camps I had been involved with, and even letters from old boyfriends.  That’s right.  In this unmarked box of my past, I found letters I had kept from old boyfriends.  Don’t ask me why - - I didn’t even know they existed.  However, I would be lying if I said I didn’t read them, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say they had me laughing hysterically – the immaturity of my past relationships glared at me in the face as I read each card and letter.  Some were too corny or cheesy to even finish.  It seemed like light years ago when I had received these, and I couldn’t believe they had stayed in my possession all of this time.  I read through them all, laughed a bit, rolled my eyes a few times then threw them all in the trash.  I mean, seriously – as comical as they may have been, there’s really no other place for them except the local landfill. 

As I began to toss each into the trash pile, I started thinking about teenagers today.  There won’t come a day when they peruse their old high school memorabilia and find written notes.  No, they would probably scoff at such an ancient method of communication, but what are they going to do one day?  Pull down their electronic “cloud” from the sky and empty it of everything they’ve ever sent or received?  Is that even possible?  Does anyone even know what the “cloud” really is?  Will they spend hours deleting every text message conversation ever had?  And, even if they do all of that – will there digital conversations ever really be erased from social media history? 

Talk about a different time, huh?  I used to pass notes in between classes and pray a teacher wouldn’t catch me as we read it during my next class.  I’d sign notes to my friends with the beloved acronym of “LYLAS” and doodle the border of the notebook paper like my life depended on it.  Then, if I had something to say to my friend that didn’t make it onto a note for that day, I’d have to WAIT until we were both home (and finished with dinner, of course) before I could call them on their land line (gasp).  Or, if you could stay up late enough to get the green light from your parents to use the phone line for Internet, and you had the patience for a shaky dial-up connection, you could chat with them on AOL Instant Messenger.  (Shout out to my old screen name of DMSsport30, where I paid tribute to not only my middle school, but also my volleyball and basketball number…for some things, there are no words.)

Your average teenage issues - relationships, friends, peer pressure, gossip, and rumors - carry such a larger weight today than they ever have before because now they NEVER SHUT DOWN.  Fifteen years ago, if someone broke up with you, you’d call your friends to talk (cry) about it, maybe tell your mom, and slowly hear the news spread around the school the next day.  It still, unnecessarily so, became everyone’s business, but its only means of travel was word of mouth.  Now, it’s possible that if your boyfriend breaks up with you, you’re the last one to find out about it.  And, that’s a piece of humble pie no one should ever have to taste.

You hear it all over the place: this generation is too “self centered”, they “don’t know how to have a meaningful conversation”, they don’t know how to “detach from their social devices”, and so on… Sure, some of these accusations may be true, but I know several adults who could be categorized under those stereotypes, as well.  I think we need to stop attacking this generation for their constant dependence on social media and start recognizing the challenges it causes them:  

Not many of us can say our middle school boyfriend broke up with us via a Facebook wall post or tweet. 

It’s not just the fashion magazines in the check out line with pages of beautiful women that can allow insecurity to start creeping in – confidence is tested with every pop up ad, retweet, Instagram post, or snapchat message.

Keeping up with the Joneses isn’t just about getting a fancy car when you turn 16 or those pair of jeans you want – now, it’s about who looks to be having the most fun on their status update or racking in the most likes on a recent post.

Maybe “kids today” don’t know how to spell correctly, use proper grammar, or have legible handwriting, but they have a whole slew of battles to fight that us older folks would crumble against.  So, instead of criticizing, let’s start encouraging… instead of feeling sorry for, let’s start praying for...  instead of griping about, let’s learn about…

Because at the end of the day, they’re still just kids.  They deserve to be twelve, fifteen, eighteen, etc…  They deserve to make mistakes and learn from them.  They deserve our support and interest.  They’re the next generation.  The hope for a better tomorrow. The teachers to my kids.  The future.   

And, if you don’t believe it, just see what they do when….

They’re given the opportunity to serve:  they give and love unconditionally. 


They’re told to have fun:  they unashamedly learn how to country dance.


They’re given freedom to be themselves:  they’re at their happiest. 


Because whether they talk to their friends in person, through a note, or on text message, teenagers today are the same as they were ten, twenty, thirty, even fifty years ago: young, impressionable and passionate people seeking out truth in this ever-evolving, complicated and beautiful world.

Therefore, my prayer is that I’m always pointing them to the Truth…even if it is through a text message.  :)


From: Paige 

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

To: Letting it Go

The other day, while talking on the phone with my dear cousin, the following words escaped my mouth:

“Sometimes I just want to know what other people say about me and my parenting behind my back.” 

Seriously.  I said that.  And, I didn’t think twice about it in the moment.  (God bless my sweet and understanding cousin.)   

Ahhh!  What is wrong with me?  Am I on the fast track to crazy mom?!   

Has motherhood torn down every wall of self-confidence and security I have ever known?  Well, umm…yea, kinda, err… a little bit, I guess, maybe?   

Well, let me explain via two examples:

Last week, I took Molly to a sweet friend’s house.  This sweet friend has a baby about ten months younger than Molly.  Unfortunately, Molly treated this younger baby as anything but sweet.  I’m not kidding.  There were so many “No’s!”, finger points, toy pulls, and all around naughtiness, I wanted to die. 
I found myself in a constant state of panic when this sweet baby would crawl in Molly’s direction.  How was Molly going to react this time?  A shove?  A scream?  I spent majority of the play date apologizing for Molly and over explaining her newfound “independence” and “sassiness” when really I just wanted to leave.  Fight or flee?  I was all about the flee…

Then, we were recently visiting some out of town family, and I was excited for all of them to spend time with Molly.  It had been a long time since they had seen her, and I was really looking forward to the day.  What was I thinking setting such expectations? Clearly I’m still learning that when it comes to toddlers, expectations usually crash and burn.  And, crash and burn, they did, my friends.  The four hours we spent poolside with all of this wonderful family, I think they may have seen about two smiles from Molly.  Not exaggerating.  If she wasn’t clinging to me like a magnet, she was, well, I don’t know…that’s what she was doing 90% of the day.  I think Daniel carried her around for a bit, but I can’t remember.
Again, I found myself telling everyone that “she’s shy” or that “she’s usually not like this.”  I plastered on my happy face and tried not to bring much attention to her blatant discontent.  Let's just say, Molly was anything but celebratory about the fourth of July.  Very unpatriotic of her.


Anyway, as I was recalling these situations to my mother last week, she listened intently then laid it on thick with this response:

I know you get disappointed when she acts like that, but it sounds like you’re taking her behavior on too much.  It’s not that you’re upset for her in those situations, you’re upset that she’s making you upset.  She’s her own person, and there are some things you’re just going to have to let go.

Bam.  Poof.  Just like that.  It CLICKED.  My mom had brought a knife to a fist fight.  And rightfully so, I might add.  Here I was expecting some advice on unruly toddlers, and she called me out on being too wrapped up in Molly’s behavior or what people thought of her.       

And, then I did the hard thing:  Admitted she was right. 

I began to reflect that so many situations are etched into my memory as either pleasant or not dependent on how Molly acted during them. 

Playgroup last week:  Molly did not share well = bad experience.
Beach with the family:  Molly had a great time = great experience.
Road trip to Texarkana:  Molly napped the whole drive = great experience.
Swimming with family:  Molly clung to me the entire time = bad experience.

Obviously, I could go on and on, but I didn’t want to . . . her point had been made, and I knew I needed to start letting go.  I mean, seriously, if I don’t lay this down, can you imagine how much of a basket case I’ll be in ten years?  Fifteen?  Twenty?  My kids will have become my only "friends", I'll have all gray hair, and I'll say things like, "We are going to wear the pink dress to Prom."  Ahh!  May-day! May-day!  Where is my white flag?? I’m not up for the task of helicopter parent, but that’s where I’m headed…

So, maybe some days Molly will be grumpy.  Some days she may be sweet and adorable.  Some days she may share all of her toys, others she may scream and cry if another kid looks at them the wrong way.  Some days she may love any oxygen breathing stranger.  Others, she may attach herself to me like rubber cement.  So, what?  It’s all a part of this thing called “raising children”, and I have to remind myself:  I can't control it.    

She’s a person, not a robot, and there isn’t an exact formula I can program into her so that she acts like I think she should act.  As her parent, I need to be there to guide her, teach her, pray for her and comfort her as she works through these emotions, but I can’t control how she reacts to situations.  And, I can't control what people will think when we leave or what they say behind my back.  But I can love my daughter unconditionally, which is the greatest gift I can really give her.    

Elsa really knew what she was talking about when she belted “Let It Go” from the mountaintop, and it seems I need to do the same… 


…No matter which Molly shows up:

Playful Molly

Unimpressed Molly

Mischevious Molly

Friendly Molly

Annoyed Molly

Goofy Molly

Skeptical Molly

Sassy Molly

Snuggly Molly

Curious Molly
They all make her who she is, and I find peace in knowing that God didn't give her to me on accident.  He knew that ALL of what Molly is and will be was a perfect fit for the mother I am for her.  She's not here to make me feel good about my parenting skills.  She's here because this is the time the Lord ordained for her, and I'm excited to see what all that entails.

So, like the magnet that used to be on my parents' refrigerator, I need to "Let Go and Let God."  

From: Paige