If Only Facts Softened Hearts

Growing up in the churches of Christ while being raised by a cerebral, military man 46 years my senior gave me the impression that facts were important. Facts saved people's souls from hell if you can just embrace and believe in them. Facts and the large umbrella above it, education, gave us a safe path on which to build our lives. If people just had the correct facts, all problems would be solved. World peace. Heaven. Financial success. Health. Information is the key.

How great would that be?!?!

Fast forward a few decades and I find myself attending my first White Ally Workshop. I'm promised a toolkit to help draw people away from racist ideas and into the world of allyship (for us whities). Racism is a giant enemy that we want to think of as "other" so we can objectively, deliberately slay this dragon of inequality and unfairness. Unfortunately, the dragon has laid some eggs we're sitting on within ourselves. Racism isn't "other". Racism is "us." I don't meant that we're all racists in a deliberate, overt way. That involves choice and intent. I mean that we, as Americans, were born into a racist society and all of us who have benefitted from that (white people) are racist in some way. Our systems are racist. Our language is racist. Our dominant culture is white, rendering anything non-white as "other." It runs really, really deep. I haven't remotely hit the bottom of it.

We know this already, that we harbor racism within us that needs to come into light for us to see growth. The conclusion is, before we have societal, systemic change, we must have internal, personal change. And of course, all these things are actually happening simultaneously. It starts within. Oof that's hard. We have to stop sitting on the eggs of our racist society so they aren't hatched again and again and again within us and the subsequent generations. We have to starve the beast, break the eggs. We have to stop babying our fear, our ignorance, our need for power. And so we begin unpacking our privilege. And we read and we ask questions and we talk and we listen. Super important. At some point, we think we have enough learning under our belts to be able to sway others to begin their process. 

Here's the problem: we want to sway with information. But studies show that information doesn't change people's hearts. STORIES DO. So I'm sitting in this training doing roleplaying practice and failing miserably. All I can think of is other people's stories. Police shootings and stories I read and facts I know. Nothing about personal experience. Nothing about touching hearts in real life. Only words to engage the mind. I can share facts imploringly and do, often. However, I was told in this workshop that what we need is to engage people in conversation with story and compassion and kindness rather than brow-beating facts, politicization of our social strife and judgement. 

Uh oh.

I've got none of that.

Not when someone is griping about the tragedy that is taking down confederate monuments and how people of color need to "just behave themselves" and how the Black Lives Matter movement is local terrorism. 

How can I listen and find the humanity in that? That stuff is bullshit. Okay, here's the distinction they were teaching. You can't find the humanity in racism. But can you find the humanity in someone who says racist things? 

Ouch.

I can if I really try. I know a lot of "good" people who don't understand why this makes me so angry. But I don't really want to be generous towards them. I just want to focus my rage on their Fox News regurgitation. I don't want to think of them as children. I don't want to listen for their pain. I want the facts to rain down like men and obliterate their entire worldview. I want to burn it all to the ground. I want to force them to read all the stuff and listen to all the speeches and go to therapy for their stuff that gets in the way of them seeings themselves in another person. 

Oh wait. 

Isn't that what I'm struggling to do? 

GAH!!!!

I'm particularly enraged at racism within white Christians. I just don't understand why they don't care. I regularly remind myself that many of us do. Many of us are angry, sad and on the ground. But I encounter the status quo often as well. The throwing up of red herrings to preserve what is. WHY DON'T THEY CARE? You guys, I cry, scream, rage. WHY DON'T THEY CARE THAT PEOPLE ARE DEAD WHEN THEY DID NOTHING TO DESERVE IT? (I could also ask why they don't care about deaths that are considered warranted but that's another post.) How are any black bodies gunned down in the street, backyards and cars okay with anyone who claims to love Jesus? 

JESUS WAS FUCKING BROWN.

Jesus loved God and loved others. That is the whole religion. At what point does that look like finding a tolerable amount of unwarranted racist deaths just so you one doesn't have to change, read, grow or learn? 

I'm so sick of the apathy, the politicizing of real people and debates but I'm too angry to harness my rage right now and be productive with it. 

Maybe this post is what I can do right now. Perhaps this is productive.

I still have a ways to go, friends.

We all do.

* If you'd like to attend a White Ally Workshop or download the toolkit, their site is here.

Making Space for Women

Disclaimer: a mother is going to publicly say that sometimes her physical, mental and emotional boundaries are limited and motherhood occasionally pushes those boundaries. Let the silent or not so silent judgement begin!

One of my least favorite things about being a mother of young children is the lack of physical and verbal space. It's funny, even saying that publicly I run the risk that I will look like a bitch who resents her children. And I love being a mom and love being with them. But, I am constantly being tracked and talked to. Every task I perform when my children are home is happening with a background of them wanting my constant verbal input. I have a very busy mind so constant talking feels like a disruption of all the self-talking my brain is doing already, often while I'm performing 1-3 tasks simultaneously. And they always know where I am physically in the house but they still often confirm it with a holler that necessitates a verbal response. It's developmentally appropriate and reflection of a true connection and bond. This is healthy and good and normal. And when I'm not overstimulated, I love engaging my children with physical affection and verbal attention. But it is inconvenient and sometimes even oppressive. Inevitably, if I take two steps out of a child's eyesight, even when I've just spoken of my intended whereabouts, I will hear my name called out. I am needed. Two steps away. Not in thirty seconds when I will return. Right now. I am usually going into the garage to grab them whatever snack they've requested or running up the stairs for something I or they want. That in no way deters them from the distress they feel upon my removal from their sight. They often come in when I'm using the toilet. I will come upstairs to my room to change my clothing (and to get 30 seconds of silence) and there will be two little feet padding 10 steps behind me. This does not happen to my husband when he is home. He says that it makes him kind of sad to only get my attention leftovers (which is valid) but I think if he had the full impact of the level of attention I receive, it would definitely drive him even more bonkers than me as he's a social but introverted person. This is how I feel as an extrovert. I have no idea how introverted or highly sensitive primary caregivers do this. My kids will talk to Tim and want to know if he's home when they suspect he has arrived (by asking me, of course), but he is not object of this constant homing beacon dynamic. They will sometimes transfer it to him if I'm not home, especially for a significant amount of time. But it only applies to him when he's alone with them. It applies to me when I'm with them all the time, so the majority of my waking hours (and sometimes sleeping ones) for the past ten years. This is not just about the fact that I am their mother. It is also because I am their primary caregiver. So this dynamic does transfer to dads who are stay-at-home parents. But that is statistically very rare, right? 

Women are biologically responsible for propagating the species. Not all women should or are interested in doing so (nor should they be coerced to) but this process cannot work without uteruses. In order for humans to continue to exist, women are required to share BODILY space. And while it's magical (seriously, really cool) it is also difficult, sometimes oppressive and even dangerous to our physical and mental health. It's genuinely hard. It hurts. It changes us physically forever. It requires us to walk down the tunnel of birthing, wherein no one can follow us. No matter what medical interventions available to a woman, no matter the supportive coach, no matter the bad ass strong fetus, a woman births alone. It's empowering and painful and amazing. But no one can do it for you, not in that moment. That requires courage that many do not understand. And often we enter that solo space without being prepared for it, at least the first time. 

We also seem to praise women who are mothers as being "selfless." That the epitome of good mothering is not caring for yourself. And while parenting requires inevitable stewardship over the safety and well-being of a tiny person, that in no way means you stop having needs or should shirk them indefinitely. Yet every damn Mother's Day card is about giving, sacrifice and selflessness. What is on Father's Day cards? Golf clubs and grills. Why? Because men are defined by their interests and activity (including work) and women are defined by their nurturing and giving to others. We expect dads to express their fatherhood by taking time off to play and we expect women to be selfless and want to hang out with their families. I know mothers of adult kids and grandkids often want family time on Mother's Day. That's awesome and I can totally see myself wanting that in my 60's. In my 30's, I want sleep, time with my friends, time alone with some family time sprinkled in as well. And I love it when we get to share that time with our extended family, whom we don't see as often as we'd like. People have different needs and if the day is supposed to be about them, it's always good to ask them what that looks like for them this year instead of assuming or just keeping up tradition. 

I have a friend who often documents on social media how men take up public space, in particular, on public transportation. There are a lot of widely spread knees and items placed upon seats unnecessarily, often next to a woman trying to be as small and courteous as possible. Sometimes I imagine the way men take up public space is intentional, a way of marking territory, claiming space on purpose before someone else does. It's a scarcity mentally, right? In other situations or with other men, it's probably subconscious. We teach boys to conquer, to take, to claim for themselves what's "rightfully" theirs from a very young age. They are taught that masculinity means muscles, bigness, acquisition of assets. Girls are taught to be small, to be conquered, to be pretty and quiet. We are expected to cross our legs seemingly to be modest, but is it also to take up less space?

My dad grew up with the ideology of "children are to be seen not heard" and I don't think he was fully able to shake it in raising us. I think you could argue that society adds to that mantra, "girls are to be pretty not loud." Women are often praised first for their looks and second for their ability to be humble, demure and meek. There is nothing wrong with physical beauty or passivity in and of themselves. If that is natural to you, you should be those things. But I wonder how much of that is taught? We choose decorations based on how they improve our environment. The more unique and decorative the piece, the more it reflects our tastes as collectors. The problem is, women aren't decorations. We don't want to be placed on a pedestal and admired for our beauty. Not really. We want a seat at the table not on the wall. *

I had someone recently ask me who I would be or what opportunities would I have pursued at a younger age if my gender wasn't considered a liability in the conservative church? I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA. Why? Because my formation happened INSIDE that environment. How much of myself was shaped by what I was allowed or not allowed to be? How much was explicitly said versus implicitly taught? How much subtle or not so subtle redirection happened when I expressed interest in things I wasn't "supposed to do?" Sure, I can teach children, even professionally. But is that because I was conditioned to or because I actually wanted to? How much of all that stuff did I internalize versus others in the same environment? More than most, I'd say. I'm a very sensitive intuitive person, which added to my "otherness" in a patriarchal space that doubled down on "fact" versus "gut feelings."

A man whose church has gone through the process of "allowing" women to use their gifts fully listened to my sermon from a few months ago. And he heard my words about women being conditioned to not speak up and kinda felt like, "haven't we already addressed this?" Like, if we just remove the barriers, the problem is solved. Oh man, would that it could be that simple! I fucking wish!

Sometimes we "solve" the perpetuation of bad ideology but those it has targeted still carry around those wounds and scars.

That's why it's still hard for women. That's why it's still hard for people of color and for the LGBTQ+ community. Even being given the space or being encouraged to take more space doesn't make it easy. And the second you put your toe over the line, you expect to get pushed back. Sadly, that still happens. A lot. Those with privilege are sometimes willing to relinquish some space but only if you'll use it the way they want you to (hello Colin Kapernick!) 

So if women are statistically way more likely to be the primary caregiver of children both as mothers and as professional educators and daycare providers. And children have to live in a uterus to come out fully formed after 9-10 months of incubation. Men are taught to be big and to take up physical space. Women are reinforced to be decorative, which requires smallness. It's not a real mystery why it requires courage for women to create space for themselves and why it requires humility for men to give it. This dynamic isn't random or accidental. These are little and big ways patriarchy plays out in day to day life. This dynamic is perpetuated on purpose. It's like when we admit that our criminal justice department isn't actually broken when it treats people of color more harshly. IT'S WORKING PERFECTLY ACCORDING TO DESIGN. And though we're making progress in small ways, and we really are, until women and other marginalized groups are able to ASSUME equal space and regard without hesitation, fear of reprimand or the need to constantly reassure those with more privilege that we're not going to go too far with our newfound equity, we won't be done. We've got work to do.

* Side Note: Did anyone see Tina Fey on Letterman's new Netflix show? He flippantly said something about how he wasn't sure if women even wanted to write for his talk show when it was on the air for decades (almost like, it wasn't that great even though it was the hottest ticket in town for a comedy writer at the time). She immediately came back with, "We do." OF COURSE WE DO. I think he was saying it more as an act of false modesty, but how ignorant do you have to be to think it's presumptuous to imagine that working women want to be in the top tier of their field?

Tradition!

Sometimes you find out how your parenting is going based on passive observation. Of course, we all sit down and have purposeful, intentional conversations with our children. We share our values and beliefs. That's super important. One of the ways we see if those conversations are sinking in or not is when we witness what our kids think is normal. How do they respond when exposed to something in real life that you've tried to normalize at home? 

I was just sitting at the table with the kids scarfing pizza and working on my Harry Potter puzzle. Macy casually mentioned that her friend one year older is gay. My heart leapt but I tried to keep a poker face. I asked some questions about how her friend told her and how Macy responded. It was clear that Macy thought this was a totally normal thing. Then we started talking about all the people in our lives who are in the LGBTQ community. We talked about the married couples at church and the friend who identifies as queer. We talked about how numerically it's more common to be straight but that it's totally normal to be gay. And it wasn't me preaching at a skeptical kid. It was her being like, "duh Mom."

I had to jump on here and capture this feeling. I am elated. "Duh Mom" was not a given in this area based on my conservative upbringing. One of my goals as a parent is to normalize things that are in fact, normal. When we act like normal things aren't normal, we target normal people and cause harm. It is normal to be gay. It is normal to be straight. These are both well within a normal spectrum of human sexuality. I don't say that to minimize the very real struggle the LGBTQ community has and continues to face. Absolutely not. But would that resistance and pain be there if we did, in fact, just stop acting like it's abnormal? Because it's not. Science.

I took Macy to see Fiddler on the Roof last week. In the midst of "the mamas" and "the papas" I started to fret. Ugh. Tradition! Of course, if you've seen the show, bucking and wrestling with, maintaining and subverting tradition is the whole point. It's not about saying all traditions are great and we should just stick with it. But the struggle is real and it is damn hard to challenge tradition. And some things still couldn't abide for dear Tevye. That's human. Seeing the show was another opportunity to see what was or wasn't sinking in with Macy in regards to feminism. When all the singing about gender based roles started, Macy leaned over and said "this is weird." I snickered delightedly. Later when the daughter who married outside the faith was ostracized from the family, she said "this is awful." In the end, the part that bothered her the most was that it didn't end happily. 

Boy, did we have a lot to talk about on the way home!

I think before I had kids, I thought parenting lay in the conversations on the way home. The pausing of the TV to discuss sexist tropes. The natural consequences for reckless or dangerous choices. And parenting lies there. No doubt. But parenting is not just about what you invest in, it's also about what comes back out. Ultimately, she will make her own choices and that won't fully be about my parenting. Even if her choices are incredible and amazing. That will be her. Who she becomes and what she does with what I teach her will be about what she wants to do and who she wants to be. And that's cool. But my piece of this parenting at age 10 includes what we consider normal as a family. And I hadn't quite put my finger on that until I saw it coming back out. This is her base reality. And I'm really excited that her base reality includes thinking being gay is normal and fathers rejecting daughters based on their choice of spouse is inexcusable. Yes!

Your Kid Is Perfect. It's Okay That Your Kid Isn't Perfect.

The other day, it was hard to be my child's mother. Sometimes your child is going through things you can't really grasp. That alone is a source of pain and discomfort for me. Love means intimate knowledge in my world, so loving my children deeply and not having a firm grasp on something going on with them is scary and makes me feel insecure in my ability to mother them well. Adding in how an episode, regression, tantrum, or altercation affects a child, their environment and adults involved creates a potentially humiliating element as well. Shame is on the table. Embarrassment comes knocking. And on a hard day, it can be tough to contain those adult dynamics within yourself so they don't spill onto your child, who is already grappling with something very challenging.

On my hard day, in the midst of everything coming to a standstill, I wrote some affirmations for myself on my phone. It was all I could reach with a little person completely covering my torso. I wrote and wrote. I needed to affirm my experience, my process, my feelings in the moment. That is part of the skill set needed to not shame your child when you are toying with opening the door to the shame and pain knocking so loudly in your heart.

I decided to share those affirmations with you. I know so many people who have struggled with their children. I've written in the past about having my child assessed and being afraid of the results. That process is revisiting us right now and I want other parents to know that you are not alone. If you find yourself in a "moment" maybe a few of these will resonate with you while all the things begin running through your mind. Here's what I wrote to combat anything in my heart that wanted to come tumbling down:

It's okay to take a break.

It's okay to be upset.

You have nothing to be embarrassed about.

It's okay to be embarrassed.

Your kid is perfect.

It's okay that your kid isn't perfect.

It's okay to resent how hard it is to be your kid's parent today.

It's okay to be jealous of parents whose kid isn't hard to parent today (resist the temptation to believe that some parents have an easy day every day. It might look like it right now but that's not real. That's Instagram talking).

It's okay to stop what you were doing and comfort yourself and your child. For as long as you both need.

It's okay to resent that the trajectory of your day just changed without your consent and without any warning.

It's okay to be exhausted.

It's okay to be sad for your child. 

It's okay to be sad for yourself.

It's okay to be sad for the people who are confused, afraid or inconvenienced because of an interaction with your child.

It's okay to want to tell those people to go fuck themselves.

It's okay to want other people to "fix" your child (they can't and no one can but it's a human response to atypical behavior).

There are always more resources to support your child (not necessarily within yourself but that you can access when you have the energy to look). 

Your child is trying.

You are trying.

Your child's other parent is trying (even if they handle your child differently than you do).

Your child's teacher is trying.

Your loved ones are trying.

Sometimes trying does not solve problems.

Trying looks different for everyone and sometimes people's best is not even close to what your child needs. That's okay.

It's okay to go back to the drawing board in how you approach your child and their behaviors/abilities.

It's okay for them to regress.

It's okay for you to regress in patience, tolerance and energy.

It's okay to have no knowledge of what triggers a regression.

It's okay to want to be able to explain their behavior.

It's okay that sometimes there's no explanation for their behavior no matter how hard you try to connect the dots. This means sometimes the room will turn towards you to "solve" something and you will have to shrug.

It's okay to be angry at your child.

It's okay if you don't know what to do.

It's okay that not knowing what to do is the worst way for you to feel as a parent.

It's okay to not know what the future looks like for you or for your child.

It's okay for that fact to be very unsettling for you. 

This is not your fault.

This is not your child's fault.

This might be society's fault but you'll deal with that later.

Friends, you are loved. You are not alone. And neither is your child. Lean towards the pain and allow yourself to feel what you're feeling. But guide that process with these truths and any other words that may apply to your specific situation. You matter. Your child matters. And ultimately, whether the answers are found or the struggle is contained or not, love yourself, love your child and be at peace. Because your child is perfect and it's okay that your child isn't perfect. Just like you and me. Wherever they land on the bell curve, they're really no different from us, are they? Sometimes people just don't know what to do with them. So be it.

Getting Married is Crazy. Let's Get Crazy.

I'm not sure I can fully explain the sense of beauty and redemption I felt watching the royal wedding this weekend. My ever-practical husband teased me about wanting to watch it live ("you know it'll be everywhere in the morning, right?") but it meant something to me to see it in real time. So I slept on the couch for 2 hours and then watched coverage for almost 5. I dozed a tiny bit when celebrities were coming in and out of the frame (definitely from exhaustion not from lack of interest!) but I caught all the good stuff live. 

Of course, everything was beautiful and as an artist, beauty matters to me. Lace and arias and fascinators are fun and meaningful and celebratory. To see the effort and expense, I could scoff at the frivolity of it all, but I chose to see it as priority given to something that matters to the people who made such an effort. And though I'm sure a few were there just to witness all the pomp and circumstance, the fact is, this was a royal match made for love and with intent towards change and progress. I believe most people were there to celebrate and support that movement towards the future.

It was not lost on me that the colonizers were bringing an African-American into the fold. Not in a forced or fake tolerance way but in genuine welcome. Meghan is independent, 36, black, not royal and an American. This is no small thing. I could not have been more thrilled that in her moment in the sun, she did not minimize any of those things. She walked herself down that aisle halfway (that was planned even before her dad backed out). She brought in the incredible Rev. Michael Curry from Chicago to give the wedding sermon and that dude PREACHED. I'm not much for sermons these days (at least not dry, rote ones) but he brought it in a real way. I was moved by his message. As beautiful and true as his words were, the significant piece to me was his style of delivery, which was in every way BLACK. I chuckled at Camilla's resting bitch face while the stuffiest in the church showed visible discomfort at his demonstrable passion and zeal. BRING IT! 

The music, her regal mother, the sermon - her roots were on full display and it was GORGEOUS. I get chills just reliving it in my mind. 

Ultimately, weddings are about love. And getting married is totally crazy! Anyone who denies this fact doesn't know what they're getting into. I straight up said that in my wedding sermon when I married my best friend and her now incarcerated husband. Shit gets real in life and marriage is awesome but it is another vessel that can bring crazy into your home. Because now you've got two people and their craziness added together. It's exponential possibility for madness. However, the audacity of claiming life-long love (especially when you're super young) not knowing what will come down the pike is exactly what makes it so beautiful. It takes faith. It's a leap that you make together. And let's be honest: sometimes it doesn't work out. That's okay. No matter the outcome, when you go in eyes wide open and leap, that's an act of courage. 

Ultimately, seeing the look on Meghan's face when Harry lifted her veil - that willing, vulnerable love full of shared faith and trust - that is what the world needs. I know it's naive to say - let's just all fall in love with each other and the bombing and the selfish consumerism and the abuse will end. And yet, I kinda think it would. 

I was talking with some dear friends the other day. We were dreaming about a future project to develop materials to fight "other-ism". Immediately, my heart leapt. The royal wedding was a moment of de-other-izing. And the world needs more and more of it. I have to believe that under the typical wedding excitement, I wasn't the only person whose heart sang a little louder because of that dynamic at play this weekend. It's hard to hate people up close. We gotta roll up our sleeves and lean in. How can you fall in love with your world today? How can you step into a commitment to each other with faith and vulnerability and strength? How can we mend centuries-old traditions in our personal lives? I think if we each participate in that process in our little corners of society, the whole world would change. 

Being a Woman in Public

Hey friends! As you know, I've been wandering lately and I'm a person who struggles to put herself out there, though I do it all the freaking time. As I've been exploring what's next for me, I've been informally interviewing people in the different fields that I love, talking to people with experiences I want to have and trying to count the cost of my various options. It has been awesome, overwhelming, exhausting, slow, scary and exciting.

The thing that keeps coming back to me is expanding my writing and public speaking. It gives me a real sense of purpose and I genuinely derive energy and excitement from it. I have be honest with y'all though. This is the path that is met with the most resistance for me socially and in community. It would be so much easier for me to just get a job. I want to put a disclaimer here that I have not been perfect through this process of writing and speaking publicly using my story and sharing my experiences. I have been unkind, uncharitable and way too damn specific. 

Unfortunately though, a big HOWEVER is coming. And the however is, there has been a sense of kismet in me for a long time that this might be an inevitable part of my path, my process, my story. That if I sidestep the words within me, I will be sidestepping my destiny. That sounds hella dramatic, but what I mean is, I am regularly being put in a position where I can choose to be socially accepted ("normal") or I can be myself. This has been a great source of loss and pain for me. I've written about that too. And with a lot of grace for my humanity and my community, I think I can be proud of how I've carried myself thus far. That is not everyone's opinion, but within myself I can validate a true effort to have healthy boundaries and fairness for my detractors.

I am reminded often that women who are public figures are given an unbelievable, disproportionate amount of shit. The recent gorgeous letter written by Beth Moore and subsequent evisceration of her character (I will not tag anything here to avoid increasing their clicks but it is there, trust me) was genuinely triggering to me. I want to believe that someone like her who has played the evangelical game long enough, with such incredible integrity, would have built enough credit in public opinion to be able to lift the veil a bit.

I'm realizing that no amount of credit will sustain a woman who speaks truth publicly.

Whether it be Brene, Rachel, Glennon, Elizabeth, Jen, Nadia...there is no fucking exception. 

So if my dream is to become a woman who lives out loud, publicly, honestly, and with courage, I AM GOING TO BE CLOBBERED. REPEATEDLY. And that forever changes a person. I see that going one of two ways. You can either let it break you or you can develop a thick enough skin and strong enough boundaries that you can continue to be who you need to be in the world. But the cost is fucking high and frankly, mightily unfair. So far, I've held my pain, honored it and defined what was mine and what belonged to my critics. I think that puts me on a path towards the latter result. But I have to tell you, that month where I was spiraling was one of the hardest months of my adult life. There were a lot of tears, so much soul searching and an incredible amount of self-care. That is what I did full-time for the month of October. That's a big deal. If I'm honest, I'm still rebuilding my self-esteem because I was judged by people who I thought really knew and loved me. If I up the ante in what I write and how I put it out there, that is only going to increase. It is the ultimate sifting, right?

I'm intimidated.

I'm not sure I want to lose the safety of anonymity. 

I don't know how much I can really handle being told horrible things about myself, whether they are lies or not.

I don't know if my well will dry because the well I write and speak from requires vulnerability. And only a crazy person would be able to continue in vulnerability when spoken of the way these women are spoken of. Their public perception can turn on a dime. There's no winning, not really. 

Okay that's not true. The winning is being true to yourself, being strong in the face of unbelievable cruelty and fulfilling your purpose. The cost is public acceptance (or false public acceptance until you put one toe over the line), anonymity and freedom from accountability. I admire these women. I don't agree with everything they say and write. Why would I? We're living different lives. But I admire their courage and often, their words give voice to what I'm experiencing, feeling, believing and give me a sense of camaraderie. The good they're doing clearly outweighs the cost it requires. It does. 

Time to put my big girl panties on? 

Not All Wandering is Fun

I haven't written in awhile. There are a few reasons, I think. Writing is a way for me to process my feelings, honor them and give them a mic. It's part of my self-care. I've been kind of down lately and I think sometimes when you need it most, self-care becomes a chore. It takes a certain amount of energy to even do the things that give you energy, you know? I think this is what life feels like for depressed people all the time. And I have to tell you, just in case you didn't know, it fucking sucks.

But eventually, I always find myself writing, thank God. I think putting myself out there in writing or in my business or even socially requires a base level of self-esteem and I don't often dip below that mark. I've been lucky that way. I'm very social and confident and I enjoy lots of personality types. However, lately, I've danced above and below it that base level of self-esteem. And it's funny to put yourself out there when you're not in a great place because I feel like our culture is all about the shiny and pretty and struggle just isn't those things. Yet, here I am.

I'm trying to figure out what my life should be about as my kids are no longer needing me as their foundation. Penny starts kindergarten in the fall and it's going to be awesome for everyone. We're ready and she's going to shine and I'm happy for her. On my side of things though, I've always told myself that when my youngest starts full-time school, it would be a season for me to focus more on myself, my personal development, my time to contribute to the world in a bigger way. I think being a full-time parent and part-time business operator has been a contribution to my children, my small family and to the greater community in so many ways. But now I'm ready to move out from behind that and venture out into the world a little more as an individual. It's funny because I've always prided myself on not over-identifying as a mother, which is such an easy trap. When you are everything to someone, you can get lost and start to think that's all you are. I really didn't want to do that to myself or my kids. And at the same time, I've been home with a little person for TEN YEARS. For only having two kiddos, that's a really long time (they're five years apart). And I'm starting to realize that the "what's next?" question is proving a little more frightening than I have expected it to be all these years.

So there's a possible whole-family transition on the horizon (especially if I decide to work full-time in a job) and the task of processing the end of a very long and sentimental phase of life in raising children. There's also the daunting reality that I have so many things I'm interested in doing. I made a list of all the environments I like, types of systems I could work within (schools, hospitals, universities, non-profits), jobs that would be cool and they all have things that intrigue me. Some of those things would require more schooling. All of them would require some intimidating re-working of my stone-cold resume. Also, I've had the immense privilege of having total control of my time for ten years (well, as much control as you can have with a little person attached to your leg). The compromises required to work with or for someone else is a piece of liberty I find challenging to potentially relinquish. But I find myself wanting a bit more structure and collaboration in my work life and being fully self-employed (I'll always do Shaklee so that will always be in play, thankfully) means that I am totally self-propelled and that's gotten a little isolating this year. 

And then there's my perfectionism...I don't want to make any compromises (being there to drop off and pick up my kids, being around in the summer, not working when my kids are off, etc) with my time. I want to know in advance it's going to be awesome, fulfilling and worth the sacrifice of my time and freedom. I want to make a real contribution to society so participating in certain systems that tend to cripple that makes me hesitant. I want to make good money, hopefully making the loss of some control worth it to me and to my family. I want to be challenged but able to do my work and I want my work to make a real difference. I want to prevent more pain to the people in the world. There's something gorgeous about treating current pain but I want to prevent new pain from occurring. When I was younger, I wanted to save the world for Jesus. Now I just want to save the world from ourselves. But there's a certain level of realism in me that wonders if that can ever really be. And if that can't ever really be, why go through all the scary shit to try? Hence, I've been in a bit of a dark cave lately.

It's too late for me to go to school in the fall. I can't make a ton of new money or I'll lose the awesome scholarship we were granted for Penny to do Montessori kindergarten next year (so stinking cool). But I don't want a lost year either. I want to keep writing. I want to figure out what's next. And I don't want to just do something or just take something to make this processing stop. I've got about 30 more years to work and I want to make them count. I want to be smart and strategic. But I also want to be realistic. And to be honest, I've always felt like I'm on the outside looking in at the world of people who just know how to navigate the world and all it's mysterious (to me) systems. I probably need some sort of career coach. Ugh. 

How to Process Criticism

One my dear friends and I were just discussing the challenges of being a female writer telling the truth. It's really hard to put yourself out there in the first place. And then sometimes in the work of telling hard truths, people dump their anger, resentment, judgement, and pain on us in response. I don't like this aspect of what I do, though it is giving me a lot of real life practice in holding boundaries while making space for people's pain. It's an intricate dance and I've learned a few things about myself and about what it means to be a writer in this process that I thought might be helpful. Whether you're a writer who publishes publicly or not, we all receive criticism in our lives and have to figure out what the hell to do with it, am I right?

The first time I went through therapy, I was in college. The reason I found myself in that office every week was that I did not have a personal filter. Whenever someone criticized me, I took it deep into my heart and believed it. It was incredibly painful and left me ill-equipped for adulthood and authentic relationship. I find even now as I receive private lashings for my writing, sometimes it comes down to this truth. When we lash out at others, we are reactive versus responsive. When we respond to something, we use reason, we talk about ideas, we can even have big feelings but operate with those well in hand, giving people the benefit of the doubt. When we react, we defend, we mark our territory, we inflict pain on others deliberately. I try to write from a place of response to situations in my life and in our culture. But in writing my response to life, I sometimes receive reactions from others. I love to talk about the actual ideas of my subjects (abuse, church baggage, bad theology, mental health, feminism, family, etc). But sometimes people don't come to me to about ideas. They come to me to put their pain in my box. And when that happens, I've developed a few rhythms that have served me well.

Number one, I hold the pain. When people have said deliberately unkind things to me, questioned my motives, my character, my very self, it hurts my feelings. It makes me giggle a bit that this might surprise some people. As much as my pen has a bite, I am a very tender-hearted person! When you tell me I'm selfish or a liar, it makes me cry. I am human. And I cry. I think I cried the entire month of October because of that damn VBS post. But you know what? THAT'S OKAY. Not, I deserved it, or that's what you get. But it's okay because I was in a lot of pain. So I held it. I felt it. I cried. I went on nature walks. I wrote. I talked to my friends again and again. I sat in silence alone. I processed the pain. That processing can take a long time. But it is so important to process before responding to unkind push back. 

Why? 

Two reasons: I am worthy of having my pain felt, processed and validated. That time is well spent and I don't need to rush to respond because people are waiting. I am hurting. I don't want to respond from that place so that place needs to be sat in first. Two and this gets to the greater number two of this post. The number two is, decide who you want to be in the situation. This is the beauty of healthy boundaries! I love this so much. I don't get to choose how I am treated. BUT I GET TO CHOOSE HOW I TREAT OTHERS WHEN THEY HURT ME. This is so exciting because it means that I get to decide who I am no matter how others perceive me. This is self-love, self-affirmation - this is security, people! It's really exciting to get to a place where people can't tell you who you are, why you do what you do or how you feel. Even your closest allies don't get to tell you who you are, not really. I've even stepped away from finding my identity in God. I think my co-dependent, tell me who I am, shit started with church. I get to validate myself. It doesn't mean that others can't encourage you and affirm you too. But others fail us because that's what relationship with other humans is. It's fucking up and apologizing and also just plain disagreeing. That's okay. 

Once you know who you want to be in a situation and how you want to conduct yourself in it, you can respond with curiosity rather than reacting in self-defense (number three). Turns out, oftentimes a big reaction is a mirror in front of the person reacting, not the person they're screaming at. It's a reflection of THEM. Again, I want to make the distinction between people who want to debate ideas and people who are attacking you as a person. Personal beliefs (ideas) reflect us too but not in the visceral way that outbursts do. Maybe whatever you said or did triggered that person. So instead of defending yourself (you can decline to defend yourself), ASK QUESTIONS. What's going on with them that they felt it was appropriate to scream profanities at you? I'd like to think that there's enough room for big feelings and holding space for people without having to go straight to name-calling, denying the assumption of positive intent and character attacks. I love the use of these phrases "tell me about...", "can you speak into...", "I'd like to know more about..." It helps unpack what's really going on in them without taking on their stuff and making it yours to fix. I can't emphasize enough how important it is to decline taking responsibility for other's feelings. It denies them their work. And ultimately, that's a crying shame. 

Pain is our friend and our work is ours to do. Don't try to do other people's work. If you're anything like me, your work keeps you plenty busy without taking on other people's. The goal here isn't not fucking up. The goal is learning from pain and making space for others without taking on their shit. We all mess up. Hurt happens whether it's intentional or not. So let's be curious about our pain, let's sit in our big feelings and examine what they mean about US not those around us. 

One final thought, my friend made this point and I thought it was dead on. She said, the people who seem to be able to do this (the above three points) are those who have been in a practice of self-love. The more we learn to love ourselves, the less likely we are to lash out at others. Right? It's not about not making mistakes. It's about being safe to know you're loved while you're making mistakes. The mistakes are expected. Conflict is normal! It's about loving yourself through that learning process. And when we can give ourselves that love, that space to process our feelings and have compassion for ourselves, we are able to hold space for others, even those who trigger and hurt us. 

May you hold your pain and tend to it. May you be exactly who you want to be in conflict. And may you be curious about the pain of others instead of trying to fix it or feel threatened by it.

Peace, friends.

Motherhood Anniversary

My firstborn turned TEN today. I have been a mother for TEN YEARS. And because my kids are 5 years apart, even though I only have 2 kids, I have been the mother of a child under 5 for almost 10 years. So weird. 

I actually pulled out Macy's baby books today and teared up a little! I feel like I barely remember that baby. Dude, how am I going to feel when I'm actually old?!?! As much time as I spend on processing my traumas from the past, I don't live in a space of "the good 'ole days." I try to maintain a healthy appreciation for the past, while not overselling it like it was perfect. I know it wasn't. It was hard then and it's hard now and it'll be hard in the future. The same can be said for all those seasons being awesome in some way too. We never really arrive. We just have to make the most of each season. 

I think of life more in the framework of seasons and the season of being a working-at-home mom of a little person will come to and end this fall. Crazy, since as I just shouted from the rooftops, I'VE BEEN DOING THIS FOR TEN YEARS! It'll be interesting to see myself transition out of this phase. It has been meaningful, hard, sometimes tedious, slow, sweet, precious and exhausting. I am so grateful to have had the privilege of flexible time all these years. It's a true gift and I try not to take it lightly. I know it's a big deal and as all the guilt-trippers tell you, "you'll never get that time back!" I know, I know.

I intend to continue to work my Shaklee business and maybe take on new things as well. I'm excited about a season of personal development on a different level than mothering littles ones has provided. This time has provided tons of opportunities for growth yet I know with kids at school all day, new things will emerge for me coming soon. I'm curious about what is to come. 

I know what has been has been beautiful. So many laughs and tears and growth. It's amazing how a little human comes out of your body and if you just keep feeding them, they go from tiny baby to full-on kid. I've learned a lot being a mom for 10 years. Most of all, I've learned that I'm vulnerable as hell because of it and I have to give myself and my children grace and support in that reality. I have to say, being Macy and Penny's mom has been one of the greatest privileges of my life. And I can't believe I've been living that gift for 10 years today. 

Happy birthday, my love.

When The Tables Are Turned

Many of my peeps know that I got a chance to preach at a church of Christ last weekend. While that may seem like a fun little thing to note about someone's life, let me tell you: this was a really big deal. The main reason it was a big deal is simply the fact that I am female. While most of Christendom recognizes at the very least, female spiritual gifting, the churches of Christ go pretty far in excluding women from all leadership. We don't pass communion trays. We don't lead prayers. We don't read Scripture. We don't even make announcements. And for some reason, it seems typical that even in churches who have moved past some of these barriers, the buck often stops at preaching, even for somewhat progressive non-church of Christ churches. So it was a big deal for that reason alone and when this opportunity first presented itself to me, the weight of that was something of which I was very cognizant.

More than that, I was asked not only to preach in a church of Christ, but also to specifically talk about how the churches of Christ have hurt women. WHOA NELLY. I could write and write and speak and speak and never be done telling that story or feel like I represented everyone well. It's an unending story of horror, and I'm not being dramatic. Again and again I am confronted with how this has ruined people's lives and in some cases, trampled on their precious faith to the point of extinction. This obviously harms and inhibits women but I've also been surprised to find that men are harmed by it too. This issue is serious and palpable and ongoing. It keeps knocking on the door of my awareness (even though I've left the churches of Christ) and I keep answering it like, are we seriously still doing this?!?! Yes friends, WE'RE STILL DOING THIS.

Our adult class time was specific to my story (a Q&A with their regular preacher) and the sermon was a Scripture I chose from that week's lectionary. Class time got into the benefits I received and the harm that was created for me growing up in the churches of Christ. And that story includes the major disadvantage I had in having an outspoken, passionate, leadership-gifted spirit. The more I talked about conflict avoidance, the discouragement of female leadership and keeping a tidy narrative at all costs, the more the bobble heads nodded, especially those of the women in the room. It was validating, to say the least. I was moved by the questions that were asked of me. I was healed by the openness in the men's faces, the nods of the elders and the genuine encouragement in their eyes as I spoke. It also served as like a first date before the sermon, which was a fringe benefit since I did not know the church or the people well. It's hard to speak vulnerable truth to strangers. Some people would rather do it that way but I like to at least get a feel for a group before I dive in, in hopes that my content can bring value to where they are. I need my intuition to "read the room" so to speak in order for that to be effective and class served that purpose. 

I don't know what the future holds for me. I will tell you: it felt damn good to preach the word of God. I felt like myself in a way I never have before. I haven't been trained to preach. I'm 36 years old and I got on that stage with no training and thought, "this will be interesting." It was important to me to be open to the process whatever that was going to look like. No amount of preparation was going to give me a peek into how I was going to feel in that moment.

Turns out, I felt exhilarated.

The passage we went through was 1 Corinthians 8 about food sacrificed to idols. I got to talk about community versus freedom. I had often seen that Scripture used to keep people from daring to go outside the tiny parameters of the community box. It was treated like community was more important than freedom and a cursory reading of the text makes that assumption pretty legit. This passage and that idea really triggers me. And that's why I chose it. Amazing how it was one of my four choices that week! The line I ended up saying a few times was that "I've clawed my way to freedom" and I don't want to give it up to be loved or to get approval from others. So what does it look like to hold space for diversity, for differences among the group rather than uniformity? What does it look like to enjoy freedom and be mindful of others? We talked about how women are conditioned to ONLY be mindful of others. How can the community benefit if women are conditioned to not speak their truth? If God has something for the community and gives it to us to share but we are too afraid of conflict or "harming the community" to speak the truth, the community isn't as healthy as it could be and not as effective either. We need to recognize that conflict is not bad! Conflict is critical in a healthy community and we have to be brave enough to speak. We also have to recognize that community is valuable and it's fragility needs to be acknowledged as well. The goal is not to be right. The goal is to have a community that is truly representative of itself and the kingdom of God. That reframes the idea that conflict is a problem and reminds us that it's actually essential.

There were so many little things about the day that I will cherish in my heart forever. I won't share every tiny thing because this is already long, but I do have to tell you one more thing. We were talking a bit about Tim's ministry firing during class and Tim was present. Tim was given the opportunity to chime in, as it's clearly a shared story between us, and he opted not to come up front and speak. When Tim and I went over the Q&A beforehand (I really wanted to make sure he felt safe as a more private person) we discussed the possibility of him speaking up. I left it up to him. And I would not have been upset had he chosen to do so. But he didn't. He stayed in his seat and he watched our kids while I taught and then preached. You guys, I can't tell you how special that was for me. Our relationship has always been pretty egalitarian at home. We don't do weird submission dynamics. We are interchangeable with the kids. We support each other in our work and personal pursuits. But in church, he was the front man and I was in the audience. There really wasn't another way for us in that environment. For him to decide that I was the one who was asked to speak and to not in any way detract from that was possibly the most romantic thing he's ever done for me. And he didn't do it to look humble or because I asked him to. He did it because that's who he is. He's unassuming. He's pro-me. And when it was my turn to shine, he was pleased. So pleased, in fact, that on the way home he said I really needed to find ways to keep preaching as an act of self-care. He said, when he doesn't get to teach enough at work, he feels like he's not utilizing one of his most useful and gratifying gifts. So he makes sure to schedule enough teaching in his work life to feel satisfied. And he suggested I pursue opportunities (at my current church which is run by women) to continue preaching regularly in order to feel a fuller sense of satisfaction in my life. And I hadn't talked about how satisfied I felt or how exhilarated I was at that point. He said that just in response to watching me do it.

And the end of the day, I've already been carved up by my church trauma and I've healed enough to have a pretty decent, whole perspective on them. I've done that by going to therapy and processing my feelings and writing and talking things out with people I know and trust and respect. I've frighteningly put myself back in church, though a very different one than that from which I came. And I've read and read and read. But trauma shapes us. Scar tissue surrounds certain areas of my heart and my soul. And in some ways I'm the better for it and in others, it can be frightening to do anything that looks remotely like the life those scars represent. Going into that building and opening myself up to those familiar knives only to receive the gentle resection of some of that scar tissue (versus new wounds being created) was one of the greatest gifts of my adult life. I will always treasure the peace and the love and the egging on that I saw in the eyes of those men. The male leadership wanting me to speak (not just tolerating me but truly listening to learn) meant everything to me. To be honest, I was surprised by it. I've never ever had men in the church look at me that way before. The women saw themselves in my story and that meant something too. But I live in the world of women and I occupy that shared space daily. What is unusual for me is to witness men in power using their privilege to equip and uphold a woman. AND THAT WOMAN WAS THERE TO CRITICIZE THEM!

It didn't feel like closure. It felt like an invitation. And that scares me a little.

*I've loaded the sermon link here. 

Church and Abuse

I'm part of some great online communities that help people process religious trauma, abuse,  and fundamentalism. I've read a couple of great books based on people's experiences with these things as well. As we experienced trauma both inside and outside of the church, I find the way the brain processes trauma and how communities hold or let go of (repress) it to be fascinating, horrifying and redeeming. It makes you feel less crazy, which I think is something women in our culture need to experience daily as that seems to be the number one way to keep us quiet. 

I had something connect for me that I found really insightful. Someone said the church confuses forgiveness with healing. BOOM. Brain exploded. When anyone ever talks about being abused in church, in particular when it occurred within the church community (not just the remote anecdote unrelated to the group), the reaction often comes down to forgiveness. Like the Christian solution to pain and horror is forgiveness and if we just find a way to forgive, the pain goes away or is made to be okay. And while I find forgiveness, true forgiveness not forced victim-silencing "forgiveness" to be beautiful and liberating and most definitely part of Christian community and faith, it does not equate healing. In fact, if we force forgiveness and skip holding the horror, grieving it, assigning blame, creating accountability (hello jail time), and lots of support and help (therapy, meds, support groups) for those harmed, this is the antithesis of healing. Healing must include some sort of reckoning. You can't skip to the end without doing the painful work. (I find one of the obnoxious things about harming others is that by acting out your own shit instead of facing it, you create shit for someone else to have to work through, thus perpetuating the cycle of shame and violation). Then, after all that work, can you imagine how gorgeous, how empowering, how HEALING forgiveness could be?!?! It could be amazing. But please don't call that shoving everything under the rug stuff forgiveness. You might just piss off the king of forgiveness (yea Jesus!) in the process. Ever think of that?

Abuse is not regular sin. We don't treat it like "well, everyone makes mistakes." It's predatory. It's violating. It's just different. Of course, it's sin. But it's sin on crack and we need to treat it differently. Please let your theology and how you handle abuse as a community reflect that. Because if you don't, you're part of the problem. You have little people in your care. If you don't take that seriously, you're putting a target for abusers on your back. I promise you that. They're looking for you, naive ones. And you've been found again and again. 

There's a cool movement I just discovered on top of the #metoo movement. It's called #churchtoo. It's awesome to hear women sharing their stories. Don't get me wrong: the stories are awful. And I would add plenty of trigger warnings to it and ask that you give yourself a lot of self-care if you choose to dive in, because coupling sexual abuse with religious privilege (like having your youth minister force you to give him oral sex) is abuse on another level. BUT IT HAPPENS. And how the church deals with it matters. So far, our track record is not good. Maybe this is the beginning of hearing those voices cry out in truth and create the reckoning that is long overdue. These victims are brave. These victims have been greatly harmed. And many of their abusers have gone on to have successful ministry careers. Time to cause a ruckus, friends. Dear ones, speak your truth. It's time to clean house. 

Why Do Babies Die?

No. I'm asking the question. I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA why babies die. I feel like in the last several years, Tim and I have been in relationship with so many people whose babies have died. Not necessarily best friends, but people we know. We had a neighbor who lost TWO babies to two different diseases. I'm so angry. It's just not supposed to happen. 

And I feel like that's all we should say. I am not going to be that person that tries to tie an atom bomb with a glittery bow. It's just a shit show. I'm sorry. Maybe that's not comforting? I have no idea. I've never lost a baby. I know some people really cling to religious ideas and that brings them comfort. That's awesome. And I would never suggest taking that from them or dashing their hopes. But I personally don't think there's anything that's worth losing a baby. There's no cause where that cost is appropriate, no purpose that makes babies dying okay. 

I find myself praying when a baby's life is hanging in the balance. And that's weird for me because I don't pray often anymore. But there's nothing quite like knowing a baby is struggling to live somewhere and there's nothing anyone can do about it (except sometimes medical professionals, but even they are restricted in their control). It's awful. I hate it. And I want all the babies to stop dying. 

I think they need to stay here in the arms of their often post-labor mothers who need to smell their skin and hold their soft bodies and nurse them and just be with them. They don't need to be in the ground. Stop asking us to put them in the ground. Stop asking women to go home from a hospital bloody and dehydrated, leaking milk from painfully sore breasts with NO FUCKING BABY. It's hard to do that when your baby is healthy and with you. But to go through that without the reward of 9-10 months of pregnancy? Without the dreams fulfilled and the life-long hopes and plans? No. Just no. 

I know I'm not God and I don't have a say. And I'm not sure God has a say. I have a hard time talking to him in these instances if he does have a say. Because what the hell? There are not enough wrong things in the world for someone to deserve this. And if they didn't do anything wrong, again, what the hell? You just arbitrarily take babies from unsuspecting post-partum women? Why?

What. The. Fuck. 

And what about all of us who didn't lose babies? Who've never been in that bathroom looking down at the toilet in horror and shock? Who've never given birth and gone home empty-handed? What about us? Why do we get to hold our children FOR A LIFETIME and they don't? I don't want to be blessed above others and I don't want to be cursed below others. I just want it to be right.

And babies dying is never right.

I'm sorry.

It Takes a Village

Sometimes parenting forces you to make adult decisions in spite of yourself. I think people view me as confrontational because I express myself publicly and I advocate for others boldly. But I don't know if people realize how difficult and draining interpersonal conflict is for me. I think I have empath-like qualities, requiring me to do a lot of work around how I am perceived and having healthy boundaries when people don't like me or don't understand me. But that work is painful and is actual work, as in, it isn't super comfortable or natural for me. It pushes me. I'm okay with that because I want to grow as a person and I don't want to be ruled by my weaknesses so I often face that work head on, but it is definitely work. 

I have also found that it is much easier for me to advocate for the needs of others than for my own. I think that's both because I am a care-taker, thereby elevating the needs of others above my own and being uncomfortable with having needs, and because advocacy is inevitably more personal and tense when it's about yourself. I've recently realized that my kids fall into the same category as myself, meaning, I struggle to advocate for my kids more than I do for a stranger. I want to minimize their needs like I want to minimize my own because I think that's how I will receive love and acceptance. Moms who make a stink get a reputation (and I recently had a real up-in-my-face, weeks long experience with this that was very, very painful). But it is a shameful, embarrassing thing to admit, that I am not naturally the confrontational, bad ass I am sometimes perceived to be on behalf of my children. Like, everyone knows good moms tear shit up if their kids get hurt. I tend to prefer to walk away with my tail between my legs than to throw punches in these situations. 

So I see my inclination and my natural response but I will not stay there. Because it sucks. And it's not good for my kids. And it doesn't break the care-taking cycle. And, I've recently realized, it's not what's best for society either. If another kid harms my kid and their parent isn't made aware, the parent cannot address it. So even if I can help my kid unpack their experience, my staying silent to avoid an awkward conversation with a parent I may or may not be in relationship with robs that other parent the opportunity to parent their own child in the situation. And that is important. In our #metoo world, I have to wonder, were adult violators not parented in this area? Did their parents think they'd done right by their kid but were not made aware of incidents that may have occurred between them and other children when they were young? It's possible. So even if my kid is okay, is the other kid okay? I don't know if I don't speak up and their parent won't know either.

Adulting is hard. Parenting forces you to deal with your shit. And so, I am writing this to affirm to myself: I did the right thing today. I pushed through my discomfort and advocated for my kid and for another kid. And the parent I confronted was a beautiful, open-minded, lovely person. I am so thankful for that. But even if they had been terrible, it still would have been the right thing to do. I only get to choose my behavior and I feel good about it today. Healthy conflict for the win. Now I gotta replenish my emotional energy by eating a lot of Christmas cookies. See ya!

Enjoy Abundance

Maybe I'm the only person who needs to hear this, but just in case: if you're experiencing a time of abundance, it's okay to enjoy it. And by enjoy it, I mean, soak it in, embrace the certainty and blessing you feel and do not feel ashamed that you have abundance. I think it's my ministry baggage talking that makes it hard for me to enjoy myself too much. Like, if I have much, much is required of me. And of course, that's true. If you have a shit ton of stuff and you're not willing to share any of it, even the excess, you're an ass and karma's gonna get you. I totally get that. And that is all around us and it's gross, truly. 

But maybe that's not you. Maybe you've had some lean years and this year is actually okay. You have what you need to buy gifts and donate to charity and you're not panicking about the next bill going through and that's something to celebrate! And celebration doesn't mean feel terrible that you're not homeless or give so much and out of shame that you end up having a hard time making your bills after all. It's okay to sit in the warmth and feel good. It's okay to buy people gifts because you enjoy it. It's okay to not be moderate with your giving. Don't rein in your joy!

I've spent some time in my adulthood, hell, my whole life with a niggling feeling in the back of my head. This idea of waiting for the other "shoe to drop." And I've written about that before. Like, if you prepare yourself that shit is coming, it won't hurt so much when it happens. Not only is that fundamentally untrue, I'm realizing that it also diminishes your joy in the moment when things are actually great. I'm taking time this year to savor the splendor that is stability. I feel more stable in my marriage than I've ever been, more confident in the growth projection of my business, more comfortable with my children's safety and development outside of our home (and within it) and more at peace in my spirit than I have in a long time. Isn't that great?!?!

I love holidays. This should come as no surprise to anyone. So I'm going to concerts and I'm exposing my children to beauty and wonder and faith. And I'm giving. I'm finding ways to contribute to my community. And in those moments, I'm acknowledging that it's not hard and in the past, sometimes it has been really hard. When things are lean and you feel compelled to give, sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it means you go without. And that's okay. But this year, I'm going with and I'm not ashamed. I'm grateful and kinda in wonder, to be honest. 

I've tended to be judgemental of wealth and we are by no means wealthy. But in the grand scheme of the world and in the ways that truly matter, my soul is crying out in joy, radiating this sense of abundance. I feel safe. I feel loved. I feel proud and confident. And I'm happy! Maybe you're in a season of deprivation and things are tight and scary and dark. That was us 2 years ago. Know that your light and your deliverance are coming. Hold on tight and live in hope that things will get better. Give how you can, ask for help when you need to and try to find something to be grateful for. Maybe you think your life isn't abundant because you're comparing yourself to everyone else, what they have, how they look, how they perform, how they celebrate or live in their version of abundance that somehow still looks better than yours. Take the comparisons away. Take the guilt and the perfectionism out. Are you safe? Are you loved? Do you have food and shelter? If so, REJOICE! It's okay to give thanks, not out of fear but from a place of solidarity. 

Yes, the shoe can and will drop. Need can be very cyclical. And when we are in abundance, of course, extend a hand to those who are not in that position. But don't squander the gift. Don't feel embarrassed and don't feel ashamed. Savor the gift. Smile. Laugh. Dance. What is the value of a gift if it isn't opened?