I Do Not Resolve ...

 This weekend is full of traditions.  We will ring in the New Year at home watching favorite movies and will eat black eyed peas on New Year's Day so we will have good luck.  We will call our family and wish them a great year.  We will stay off the roads and away from drunken revelers. 

And we will skip the New Year's Resolution thing.  I have given up on this tradition.  Too many folks make meaningless promises, break them too quickly and then feel guilty.  So I will skip the meaningless resolutions.  I will not resolve to stop something or start something new.

However, there are some things I will continue this year. 

I will continue to love God, follow Jesus, live my faith and share it with others.  I will continue to love my family beyond words.  I will continue to parent my child and hold him accountable for his mistakes, while also letting him know how much I am proud of him. 

I will continue to teach my students with all that I have in me.  I will continue to support the causes that are important to me - progressive politics, gun control, ending domestic violence, supporting women's causes, and others.

I will continue to spend time working to end economic injustice and hunger.  I will continue to work to end straw gun purchases in Philadelphia.  I will continue to be proud of my church and the advocacy we are involved in.

I will continue to love action movies and mystery novels.  I will continue to enjoy the TV shows I love to watch.  I will keep on blogging and studying social media and preaching.  I will continue to support my family and friends in their dreams.  I will continue to be a fan of the Dallas Cowboys and the New York Yankees (even though it causes me grief in Philly). 

I will continue to be obsessed with Dr. Who and Torchwood.  I will continue to be upset when stores put out Christmas stuff before Halloween.   I will continue to be silly with my son.  I will continue to tell jokes badly and to laugh as often as possible.  I will continue to be happy with who I am.  I will continue to pray for those in need and believe in the power of those prayers.

So I am not resolving to do anything new next year.  I will continue to be me and all that that implies.  God made me … God loves me … and God will continue to guide me.

May you continue being who you are and who God made you to be.   May God guide you into the new opportunities this coming year allows.  May you continue to love God and share that with others.  May you know peace and may your faith continue to give you strength.

Happy New Year.

Getting out of the Helicopter

I have heard of some pretty serious hovering parents – often called Helicopter Parents – in my life and I try not to be the same way.  I protect my kid as best I can but I have to let him lead his own life.  I cannot hover over him and/or force him to make the decisions I want him to make.  I understand that sometimes he will make good decisions.  And sometimes he won’t.  All I can do is teach him the best lessons I can and guide him as I am able/or as he needs me.  But that type of parenting seems to be at odds with some others I know.

I happened upon a TLC show recently called “Toddlers and Tiaras” that scared the living daylights out of me.  These parents – mainly Moms – are so enmeshed in their kids’ lives and successes that they have little identity outside of their children’s.  They dress them as adults, slap on absurd amounts of makeup, sprinkle them with glitter, and teach them to dance in sexy (often inappropriate – in my opinion) ways to win child beauty pageants.  The show made me very uncomfortable.  I watched half of one episode and was almost ill by the end.

One of the interesting things about the show is that they depict these parents in each episode without narration and without really making any judgment as it airs.  However, one glance at their website and you see sections entitled “10 Most Controversial Parents” and “Oh No They Didn’t.”  It is clear the show is intended to show the absurdity of these parents’ decisions but at the same time they are also putting on display the huge industry that is child beauty pageants and all of the companies, professionals and coaches that are behind the scenes.

While I understand the need to be nonjudgmental to get folks to be on their show – I had a tough time watching it at all.  As I mentioned already – I barely got through half of one episode.  I found that I could not watch it without almost yelling at the TV – “are you kidding me?” and “Mom, get a life!”  There are even moments on these episodes when the children show how much they are disinterested in the pageants and how angry they are with their hovering, pushy parents. 

Granted, I am making a judgment on this show after a limited viewing but it did not take me long to have my fill of these helicopter parents (I must admit, however, that I perused some clips on their website while preparing to write this blog entry).  I know that is judgmental – but I could not help it as I watched the show.  Putting a cone bra on a two year old is more than I can take.  Making a deal with a three year old to keep her fake nails on all day by promising her a pink gun is more than I can comprehend.

And as I was watching this show – I realized that there are certainly times when I helicopter over my own son.  But I have never had him take part in something he had no interest in, wear make-up/what I wanted him to wear to show off, or dance on stage to win cash and prizes – thank God.  And I hope beyond hope that I never find my own self-worth essentially caught up in him and I hope that I never push him into a position where he is uncomfortable (as many of the kids and Dads were on the show). 

The truth is -- there are times that I wonder what he is doing and I want to know the details of his decisions.  But I have to resist.  I trust him.  I raised him well and want him to be his own person.  If I want him to be himself he has to make his own decisions, make his own mistakes, and make his own way on his life journey. 

So even though there are times I will want to hover – I resign as a hovering parent.  I am stepping out of the helicopter.  

Being Inspired

I was asked recently what inspires me.  I had a hard time answering the question.  Not because I did not know what inspires me, but because there are so many ways to answer that question. 

I get inspired in my personal life by beautiful nature, blessed friendships, connections to family, the laughter of my child, walks in the woods, awesome sunsets, opening buds of flowers, changing colors in the fall and so many other things.  I also get inspired by music, art, pop culture (some, not all), movies, and stories of overcoming obstacles. 

And I get inspired by the turn of a fantastic double play by baseball players who are paid too much, but jump up and down like little boys when they make a great play.  I get inspired by theater and a lofty song sung from the heart by a tremendous talent who has committed to their craft for years and paid their dues.

In my professional life I get inspired by the work of other homileticians (preaching professors) who work to teach their students options to express the Gospel in ways that engage and lift the people in their pews.  I am inspired by my students who reach for new learnings - sometimes forward bursting with enthusiasm, sometimes backward to safe shores, and sometimes shakily with fear and trepidation but who reach anyway. 

I am inspired by the affirmation of others who like my work. I got some of that this past weekend in Austin at the Academy of Homiletics.  Folks responded to my work and asked me questions that will lead me into further exploration.  I sat with PhD students who shared what they are working on and it inspired me to keep at it.  I had breakfast with fellow scholars from Drew University who are in the Academy and heard ways they are doing fantastic things in their field with the education they received from that institution. I got inspired by being in the room with some of my heroes of the art of preaching and hearing their stories of teaching and preaching.

I am inspired in my spiritual life by great preaching (of course), rituals that move my soul, the singing of many traditional hymns and some contemporary stuff, meditation and prayer, reading the Bible, working on a sermon, being in cathedrals and back rooms of pubs doing worship, talking about my faith with other journeyers, and feeling the breath of God.  I am inspired by the social justice work done by so many churches and individuals on so many issues - but especially working for the poor and marginalized.

I am inspired by the questions my teenage son asks about life and death, the ways my church celebrates the Eucharist, the prayers of the people of God lifted in unison, and the lighting of Advent candles in preparation of the Coming of Christ - as a babe the first time and again in the Second Coming. 

These are just some I the ways I am inspired generally and how I have been inspired this past week.  I hope you have a hard time answering that question, too.  I hope it is hard to think of an easy answer because so many different things inspire you in many, many ways.

I thank God for inspiration and for the opportunity to use those inspirations in my life, my work, and my faith.

Yikes … There’s a Teenager in my House

Tomorrow my son, Shelby, will turn 13.  When we brought him home from a small orphanage in Yekaterinburg, Russia 12 years ago, we never could have dreamed of the young man he would and has become – especially since he cried almost the entire way on the airplane from Moscow to Zurich to Atlanta to Kansas City.  We weren’t sure if this was a bad omen or not.  But we were just grateful to be bringing this amazing baby home to America.

Then he was a 9 month old with sparkling blue-grey eyes and curly blonde hair.  He was loved by the caregivers in his orphanage and was tagged as “extraordinarily healthy” by the Embassy Doctor in Moscow.  His passport picture looks like a wise and seasoned person of more years than his 9 months could possibly have experienced.  He was a compassionate toddler who rubbed the TV when he saw someone crying and begged us to stop their pain.  He was an active little guy who climbed anything like a monkey and asked more “Why?” questions than anyone could possibly answer. 

Now he is a mature and compassionate advocate for ending gun violence and watches C-SPAN for enjoyment.  He is a super soccer player and an electronics genius.  He is a great student and a loyal friend.  I have seen him stand up to bullies on his bus route and call racists on their inappropriate jokes.  He is funny, creative, and often silly beyond words.  He can still ask more questions than anyone could possibly answer but now they are sometimes even harder to answer – but not always.

Being 13 is a big thing.  It means being a teenager and making more decisions for himself.  It means his hormones will continue to change and there will be ups and downs in our relationship as he ages – but I am so proud of who he is and who he is going to be.  It means his interests are changing and his relationships with others are more complex.  Having a teenager in the house will be tough at times – but being a Mother is such a blessing.  He is a good kid and that won’t change just because the magic number 13 passes tomorrow.

So tonight I give thanks for his birth mother who chose to give him a better live by giving him up.  I give thanks for the caregivers who cared for him in the orphanage.  I give thanks to the agency reps, interpreters and drivers who helped us through the adoption process.  I give thanks for the members of my family who supported the adoption.  I give thanks to his coaches, teachers, and pastors who helped make him the young man he is today.  I give thanks to the many people who have been part of this journey.

And I thank God for him and for the opportunity to be his mother.  What a blessing.

Cleaning House Makes Me Happy!?

I am admitting something on this blog.  It is something that I often don’t admit publicly but most people who know me will not be surprised by the news.   I inherited it from my parents and I have even passed it on to my son in some small ways (though maybe not as much as I wish I had).  It is hard to hide and even harder to explain sometimes but I will tell you anyway.  I have OCD (or CDO with the letters in alphabetical order as they should be).   OCD is Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.  It is defined in my life as needing everything to be in order, wanting every place in my life at home and at work über organized, and being personally and systematically ordered in the things I do.  My sock drawer is organized by color, I have files for everything and know where they are, and my digital calendar is color coded for different types of events for each person in the family.  Sometimes it drives my family crazy.  And truth be told – sometimes it makes me a bit frazzled as it affects others.  But it is my life.

It also made me annoyed at times when I was younger and living with my OCD parents.  I would take my tea glass into the living room to watch TV or something.  Later I might go into the other room for a minute and when I returned my glass was in the dishwasher.  My Dad would threaten to leave us if we were not in the car when he was ready to go – but I do not remember if he ever really left us.  It was not always a lot of fun but they taught me to keep things in order, that on time meant being there five minutes early, and to make sure I got things done on time.  I am grateful in a way since there are a lot of things about my OCD that are very helpful in my life.  And my OCD is not debilitating – like it is for so many who deal with the condition on a daily basis.  I pray for those afflicted in ways that keep them from accomplishing all they could in their lives and for those who have overcome OCD to live full and productive lives.

But for me it is still a persistent way of life.  I get up and do thing in the same way day in and day out.  My house has to be clean and organized or it makes me cringe – and living with others who do not have OCD means I do cringe on occasion.  In academia it is a bit odd to have an organized office, but my desk has nothing out on it unless I am currently using it.  Some of my colleagues are well known for piles of books and papers in their offices to the point that no one can even visit and find a pace to sit.   I know it’s a bit cliché, but some of my professor friends make it real on a daily basis – and I love them for it (even if we cannot have a meeting in their office).

But the need for order sometimes causes conflict.  My 12 year old son and I have very different ideas about what a clean room looks like.  He thinks as long as his piles are not falling over it’s ok.  He thinks as long as the clothes are near the hamper it’s alright.  He thinks a messy desk is the sign of an imaginative mind.  He thinks the fact that all of this drives me crazy is reason enough to keep it the same.  I guess that is more a part of being 12 than it is a reaction to my OCD but it is more than likely a bit of both.

The debate in my house is about whether my needs should supersede his.  The debate is one that comes up often.  Part of me wants to teach my son the same things my parents taught me – about order and being responsible.  But part of me wants him to be his own person and create his own style.  Right now – unfortunately the OCD side of me wins more than the other side. 

What does it mean to pass something on to the next generation?   I hope it means passing on the good things.  So what I want to pass on to my son is not just flashes of my OCD.  I want to pass on compassion, love of others, faithful living, joy of life, good humor, enjoyment of reading, love of learning, care for the earth, and kindness to all.  If my son gets this from me I will be one proud and happy Mom.  I will also be happy if his room is clean but I’ll take what I can get.  

Civility is Hard But Necessary!

I am part of several Facebook discussion groups, follow a number of blogs, and read a lot of political and religious websites on a daily basis.  And one thing I have gotten extremely tired of lately is the lack of civility.  Folks on several of the Facebook discussion groups I am part of ask questions and then blast anyone who differs from their opinion.  The discussion on several topics has gotten downright ugly at times.  Now, a disclaimer – I have participated in these discussions but have tried to stay civil.  I believe I have played nice but others might see my participation differently.  I am, after all, a very opinionated person who is not shy about sharing her beliefs, political stances, etc.  But I have tried.  And one glance on political websites or at cable news shows and your “lack of civility meter” will be on full overload.

It is really nothing new.  Even though folks have been talking about the lack of civility a lot lately – (especially before and since the 2008 election) it is nothing new.  In the 1870s political cartoonists used their voice – sometimes in very uncivil manners – to bring down Boss Tweed in New York.  In the 1960 election, the Catholicism of John F. Kennedy was discussed by some in clearly uncivil ways.  Attacking political opponents is a long standing tradition around the world.  But it does seem that civility has taken a decidedly negative turn of late.  Some of it seems politically based, some seems racially based to me (in presidential politics right now), but mostly it is simply differences in ideology and how they view the role of government.

I remember growing up in Texas being told – never discuss religion or politics around the table.  The reason was that arguments would likely erupt.  But my family always encouraged these types of discussions.  And today, the result is politically savvy children and grandchildren … folks who vote, work for their candidates, and make their voices known.  And children and grandchildren who are greatly involved in their churches and know what they believe.  We do not always agree on any of these things, but we try to be respectful of each other.  Even when my son was younger and found out his grandparents were Republicans we took a moment and he called to talk to them about it.  He respectfully asked if they knew the candidate they were backing was against something important to his family.  They talked about how they did not agree with everything their candidate said but overall agreed more with them than the others in the field.  They applauded his inquiry and interest.  And he learned to ask intelligent questions of others about their beliefs and to discuss it in a civil way.

But that is not what I have experienced in some of my web based discussion groups.  There has been some real animosity and lack of civility.  I want to have important discussions and to do that with a variety of people.  I want to have important discussions with folks I disagree with and be respected in that discussion – while I am at the same time affirming their right to be wrong.  Whoops … I meant their right to have their own opinion.  But I seldom get that.  Is it me?  Am I not affirming of other’s opinions?  I think I am.  But I also would guess we all believe that about ourselves. 

So here is my advice to myself and to others.  STOP yelling at each other.  Stop being so entrenched in your own views that you cannot even listen to other people.  Stop  being disagreeable.  Stop being so rigid.  Stop being so mean.  Stop assuming the other person is wrong.

Listen to each other, disagree in love, discuss in a civil manner, and for goodness sake be aware that how you treat each other in these discourses is being watched by the next generation.  I am so grateful that my son learned one good thing from me – to be civil in his discussions and disagreements with others.  And I hope to echo that behavior in my own life – on the web or in person.  

Being civil is hard work – but it is also necessary!

Home Sweet Home!

I just returned from a 10 day vacation with my family.  It was amazing, fun and restful.  (I actually shared some of my trip in earlier posts.)  We spent time with friends in Ohio then spent some adult time in Chicago.  It was a blessing and a treat.  We drove 1840 miles and visited 5 states.   I know some people would consider being in a car with their family for 1840 miles in 10 days to be a nightmare – but we had a blast.  Part of the reason it was fun was that we are a family that enjoys spending time together.  We like each other (most days).  So it was great to be away with the people I love.  We talked, sang, played games, and just took our time being together.

But by the time we were heading home – I was very ready to be home.  I wanted to sleep in my own bed, sit in my own chair, control the remote to the TV, and have my own space.  I wanted to be home.  We have only lived in Philadelphia for a year but it is home for us now.  It is where our family makes its life, worships and plays together, goes to school, and it is where our stuff is.

I grew up as a preacher’s kid – a PK- who moved around all through her childhood.  From birth to High School I lived in 6 places.  Since graduating and going out on my own – I have lived in 5 states and in a number of apartments and houses (I tried to count but I couldn’t come up with a number).   My Mom, a United Methodist preacher’s wife, used to say, “Home is where the Bishop sends us!”  When we would move my folks would have our rooms set up by the end of the first day and we would be completely moved in within 48 hours.  My own family does it in 72 hours but we try.  That is because we know that the place where we live is our home when we make it our home.

Home ought to be a place full of memories, people we love, places we feel comfortable, and feelings of acceptance.  Home ought to be where we find our true selves and can be who we are meant to be.  Home ought to be where we find sanctuary from the outside world.  But for many that is not what home looks or feels like.  For many home is a place where they are ridiculed, made fun of, physically or sexually abused, psychologically battered and more.  For many home is a scary place and for those situations I pray for relief and safety.

I know that I was very lucky.  My home was a place where we were nurtured, praised and loved.  We were allowed to explore our true selves and we were affirmed in that search for self (even though there were certainly times when I clashed with my folks on my journey).  My parents helped me grow up spiritually and emotionally.  My parents guided me through a time in my youth when I was pretty sick.  I had epilepsy and some learning disabilities from a traumatic birth.  My parents were told that I would never graduate from High School but they said – “nope, that’s not happening to our kid.”  So my Mom spent hours helping me learn how to learn – and I graduated from High School, from college, have two Masters degrees, and have a PhD (most with honors).  All because in my home – my parents wanted the best for me and would not take no for an answer.  It was an amazing gift and for me it changed my life.  It was my home – a place where I was cared for and helped to succeed.

I know not everyone has had a great experience of home – but I did.  And for that I am extremely grateful.  I am grateful for a Mom who spent hours helping me overcome my learning issues.  I am grateful for a Dad who loved me and helped me grow in my faith and self-confidence.  I am grateful for my sisters who made my life journey very interesting. 

And I am grateful for my own family and our recent vacation.  New memories were made, new sights seen, and new bonds were formed.  My home is a sweet place – because I am loved there.  And I am working as hard as I can to create the kind of home I grew up in.  I’m home – wherever that is— as long as I am with my family.

Family Road Trip Time

One line I never thought I would hear in my own car:  “Mom, turn your music down!”   This line was from my pre-teen son yesterday.  We were driving west on the turnpike through Pennsylvania for our family vacation (heading to Ohio and Chicago) and Shelby decided our music was interfering with him listening to his own music.  The adults were listening to soundtracks from Broadway (Mamma Mia, Hairspray, and Rent this trip).  He was evidently not impressed with our music choice or the volume of our singing along with the tunes.  He was also not amused by our car seat dancing.

I remember going on trips with my family growing up where we would take turns picking the radio station and take turns riding the hump – having to take the middle seat.  We read or played car games – like keeping track of states we saw license plates from or playing “I spy.”  We had some good times in the car but we also – my two sisters and I – had plenty of disagreements.  “Don’t touch me!”  “Move your foot!”  “Get off my stuff!”  These were statements heard many times in our family car.  We never killed each other and somehow survived as friends.  So that was a good thing.

I travel with my own family now and we have done car games and sung songs for years.  Now we have technologically advanced traveling.  On this trip we had 3 cell phones, 3 laptops, 1 GPS, 2 Kindles, 1 set of headphones, 2 video cameras, 2 power adapters for car lighter plugs, 2 iPods and enough power cables/cords to string up lights at Christmas.  We also had the unique thrill of trying out the 3G hotspot my phone offers.  So my son was on Facebook as we travelled down the highway.  When we started getting tired we looked up hotels, made a few calls, and got a deal on a room.  It was quite fun.  It’s a whole new world for travel.

But we also spent time just talking.  We talked about past trips, we talked about future vacations, we talked about politics, and we talked about our lives.  It was some dedicated family time in a confined space.  And for that I am grateful.  We are only on day 3 of our vacation and we have more to go on this trip.  Getting away with my family is a privilege.  And I am grateful for the opportunity.  We will have a great time, eat too much, spend some quality time together, try not to spend too much money, make some new memories, and probably get a bit tired of each other, too.  But it will be fun.  We will continue to grow as a family and learn more about each other.  And that is never a bad thing.

Family is Messy!

I got a call from my niece this morning to tell me something I posted on Facebook meant something other than what I understood it to mean.   It was something I did not know – but she sure did.  And she was calling to rescue me from my stunning cultural ignorance.  The funny thing is that her parents and my parents were all in the room for this call – and they took great delight that I said something I did not understand.  I could hear the chuckles and guffaws through the phone.  (Hint: it was something sexual that I inadvertently copied from a friend without knowing the full meaning).  The funniest part was the laughter of all of them as my niece schooled me.  It was a hoot.  My 70+ year old parents were laughing that I did not know something like this.  And I am sitting here half way across the country wondering – how the heck did they know?  It just struck me as ironic.  I laughed about it for a long while.

Family can be hysterical – and it has been as a hoot in the midst of drama many times in my life.  It can be a gift – and has been so many times in my life when my family came to my rescue or celebrated with me a great victory.  It can be messy – and it has been when my family and I have not been on the same page about who I am and who they thought I was.  It can be enlightening – and it has been as a light in the darkness at times in my life.  Family can also be hard to define – and it has been with both my family of origin and with my family of choice but I love all of them.

We are all born within a biological family and sometimes those family connections can be very painful.  I know some folks who continue to struggle with issues from their family of origin.  I am pained by their suffering.  I pray for their healing.  I also know folks – like myself – who have had a pretty wonderful experience of family.  I am not saying we have always had it easy – I have two sisters with whom I have had arguments with over the years.  I have parents who have not always agreed with my decisions and I have not always been happy with theirs either.  And I have not always been pleased with how my family reacted to things happening in my life.  A Norman Rockwell Family - we ain't!!

But guess what – they have been there for me.  I have been amazingly blessed by the Creator with family of origin and family of choice.  They have been as supportive as I could realistically hope for.  They have had my back.  They have loved me anyway (a favorite expression of my Mom and Dad).  They are my family and I will defend them to the bitter end.  They would do the same thing for me – at the drop of a hat.  And that has made all the difference. 

Yes – family is messy no matter how you define it.  My prayer for all is that they find family – either by birth or by choice that they can love and who will love them back. 

It will be messy – I promise.  But I would rather have a messy family than none at all.  Thanks for the journey, family.  I love you all!

Walking to End Gun Violence

One thing that is very important to me is being an active participant in my community. Another thing that is important to me is setting an example of social justice involvement for my son.  One last thing that is essential to me as a person is working to end gun violence in our society.  So when I moved to Philadelphia, a city with a large gun violence problem, getting involved with the issue was a natural fit for me.  I am on the board of a group called Neighborhood Partners to End Gun Violence, a local affiliate of Heeding God’s Call.  “Neighborhood Partners (NPEG) is devoted to reducing the number of persons injured and killed by the use of handguns that are obtained by straw purchases and then distributed or sold on the streets illegally. It consists of numerous churches, synagogues, and civic organizations in Philadelphia and is affiliated with the faith-based group Heeding God’s Call.” (NPEG Facebook page)

This group is not trying to stop others from legal gun ownership or recreational use of guns.  We are, however, trying to end the practice of straw purchases at gun shops.  This practice is when a person, who cannot pass the background check, enters a gun shop with someone they have paid, who can pass the check, to purchase several guns at one time.  These guns often make it into the hands of criminals in our city and the resultant violence from these weapons is criminal.

One of the things this group does is hold vigils in front of an area gun shop to try to convince them to sign a Code of Conduct pledge that Wal-Mart and other gun shops have signed to make sure their gun purchases are all legal and aboveboard.  Some may disagree with this endeavor but it is something I believe in passionately.

So we pray as a group and carry signs asking for the gun shop owner to sign the code.  A sign I love to carry says, “Honk to end gun violence.”  We get a LOT of honks.  It is something I take my son to.  He walks the “picket” line with me.  He is passionate about it as well.  He says it is his way to affect the future where he lives.  And it makes me proud that he has over half a dozen picket line experiences under his belt. 

As I said – I am not trying to stop anyone from buying or owning guns (even though I wish that for our culture).  I am trying to make my community a safer place for my family and for other families in the city and wider world.  And as I walk the picket line – or vigil line – or sign line (I really do not like the language that is available for what we are doing but will use it for now) – I know I am doing a small part to make the world safer and less violent.  Some folks do not like what we are doing but for me and my family – it is an important part of our faith and community life.  And walking for justice with my son is an amazing thing.  

We walk for those who can’t.  We walk to make a point.  We walk to change hearts and minds.  We walk to make a difference.

What are you walking for?  For what cause are you giving your time and your efforts?  May you find something that gets you on your feet and into your community.

Growing Up With my Kid!

Today I walked my 12 year old son, Shelby, to the gate for his first solo flight.  He is off to Arlington, Texas to spend the week with my sister and brother-in-law (and my parents for part of the week).  He is so excited about the time with them and about heading off on his own.  I, on the other hand, am feeling a bit sad.  Not sad because he is going off on an adventure and I will miss him.  I am a little bit sad to see how grown up he is and how quickly he has become a young man.  It seems like only yesterday that we were walking out of the orphanage in Yekaterinburg, Russia with a 9 month old adoptee.  But today he is a creative, intelligent, funny, compassionate, and talented young man.  I am so proud of him and of WHO he is becoming.  It is not always easy.  Sometimes being a pre-teen is rough – and so is being the parent of a pre-teen.  He is going through changes all the time and I am just trying to keep up.

So being sad is just about me.   I am much more encouraged by who he is.  He is a justice fighter.  He speaks up naturally when an injustice occurs.  He protects the underdog and cheers for everyone equally.  He is absolutely baffled that some people are homophobic or racist.  He sees people as equals and cannot understand those who don’t as well.  He wants to do a march on Washington, watches C-SPAN, and debates the debt ceiling with wisdom beyond his age.  He also cracks jokes that only a mother would laugh at, can text faster than a human ought to be able to text, drives me crazy with his antics, blows things up to scare me to death, and has a mess of a room.  Shelby is a typical 12 year old.  One minute he is a young man – the next he is still a bit of a little boy.  But more and more – he is a young man with opinions and interests all his own – apart from me.

I know when he becomes frustrating and emotional that it is his age and the changes he is going through. He is just like every other pre-teen. I know he loves me and would never do anything to intentionally hurt me.  But sometimes being a pre-teen mom is tough.  I have to remember that nothing he says or does is personal.  And that’s hard.

So I promise to grow up with him.  I promise to guide him.  I promise to try not to take things personally. I promise to set limits and sometimes make him mad.  I promise to try to overlook his messy room and not press my OCD on him too much. I promise to encourage him and laugh at his jokes.  I promise to ground him if he comes in late.  I promise not to pry into his personal life … and I promise I will pry if I have to.  I promise to love him anyway.  That’s what being a parent is all about.