Where’s Your Ethical Line?

We saw the movie Prisoners this past weekend and I squirmed in my seat more than once. The movie is a tense psychological thriller about the lengths a father will go to when his daughter and her friend go missing while walking one day. The tension is palpable throughout the movie and the premise is one of my worst nightmares as a parent.

When I was in high school, our band director and his family were on vacation in Colorado. Their teen son went on a walk to go to a nearby store and was never seen or heard from again. I remember all of the drama when he first went missing. It was a tragic story that caused many parents in our West Texas community to watch their children a little more closely.

As a parent, it would be an unimaginable nightmare to not know where your child is. Once or twice, my son failed to get home on time or answer his phone for an extended time period and for just a bit I felt panicked. It was an overreaction but real for me for a bit. I cannot imagine having a child go missing and not have any idea where they were. And it happens … too often for too many parents.

And that is the premise of the movie – parents dealing with a missing child.

But the other piece of the movie is the question of how far a parent will go to find that child. The movie asks, “What would you be willing to do – even beyond the law – to get answers in that search? Would you be willing to harm another human being? Would you step over that line if you thought it would bring your child home?” There are many morality issues in this film that push the viewer to the extreme. As I sat watching, I could not help wondering what I would do if my own child was missing.

Our band director spent thousands of dollars to set up a phone system that followed them everywhere they went – in the late 1970s. They went back and forth to Colorado for months searching for their missing son. They continued to search for years. Their lives were changed forever. And they never got any answers as to what happened to him.

In the movie, the dad clearly crosses a moral and ethical line (even the trailer gives that much away). And the viewer can’t help but wonder how far they would go in similar circumstances. I, too, began to wonder where my line is.

Truthfully, I have a pretty high doctrine of humanity. That means I am one of those people who expect the best out of people. I assume folks will do the right thing and that they will be their best selves. I got this doctrine from my parents – so I blame them.

Sometimes it means I get disappointed by the failures or behavior of others – and myself. But I would rather err on the side of trusting others and expecting their best than the alternative.

So as I sat there in the movie, I knew to the core of my being that I have a fairly high moral compass and would struggle to ever justify harming another human being – even to get information about my own missing child.

I was raised in a home with faithful parents. I was taught from an early age to “Do unto others as you would have them do to you.” (Luke 6:31) I would not hurt another human being to get information about my own child … at least that’s what I think.

I believe that there are limits – ethical limits – that bind us as humans one to the other and should keep us from harming others for our own purposes. I’m an idealist – I know that. There is evil done to others for personal, selfish, and ridiculous reasons daily. I love my son but my faith leads me to only do unto others what I would have them do to me.

I watch over my son the best ways I can. And I pray for his safety. I teach him to be aware of his circumstances as he navigates a major metropolitan city on his own. I protect him the best ways I can. But he is a young man who needs to venture out and be his own person. And we have taught him well. Beyond that I have no idea what else to do.

Would I harm others to protect him? Wow – that’s a hard one. But if someone attacked him and I was standing nearby I think my “Momma Bear” would probably come raging to the surface.

Would I harm others to get information if he went missing? Lord, I hope not. I really don’t think so.

Will I do everything to teach him to protect himself and be the best he can be? Absolutely.

My faith teaches me to pray for those who are missing and for their families who miss them each and every day. And to pray for their safe return.

The best I can do is to be the best parent I can be and sometimes that is really hard … but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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.  

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.  

New Shoes and No Bullying

School starts next week in Philadelphia and my family has made the usually trek to buy school supplies.  We got 14 (yes, 14) composition books, glue sticks, crayons, markers, protractor, pencil box, book covers, folders, and pens/pencils.  We send our son to a school that requires school uniforms so we also bought the required shirts, shorts and gym uniforms.  And we had to buy the required shoes.  Yes – the required shoes.  They are black dress shoes that he will wear with either his short or long pant uniforms.  They are chunky and are not cheap.  All summer my son has worn Crocs or tennis shoes – or nothing at all.  Now he is going to be wearing these heavy dress shoes for school.  (He also has to wear a tie when he wears long pants but that is potentially a whole different post).  The chunky shoes mean something.

Putting on the big boy shoes means school is upon us.  Buying school supplies means the summer is about over.  We are entering into Labor Day Weekend and that means back to school for my son and back to work for me.  So I am mourning a bit, but I am also ready.  This has been a great summer but it is time to get back into a regular routine.  School does that for families.  It puts them back into a routine of waking, working, studying, and homework.  It is usually a time of anxiety for younger kids starting to Kindergarten for the first time, for Middle Schoolers entering into a new school, or High Schoolers heading into a major change of their lives.  It also happens for college students and professors, which is what I am.  So back to school leads many to feel queasy, uneasy, anxious, etc.  It is also a time for new possibilities, connecting to old friends, learning new things, and amazing opportunities.  It is a time to make new friends and a time for new adventures to stretch us.

But it is also a time when some students dread the inevitable painful experiences of being treated as outsiders.  Bullying and teasing kids for being different happens all the time.  It is an unfortunate part of school.  I experienced it growing up.  Many have in their lives.  Some say it is simply a natural part of school.  I disagree completely.  It is something that should not only be discouraged, but should be removed from our school environments completely.

Recently a post started circulating around Facebook.  It said …

See that girl right there?  The one you just called fat?
She's been starving herself, and she's lost over 30 pounds.
The one you just called stupid?  She has a learning disability, she studies 6 hours per night.
The one you just called ugly?  She spends over 3 hours putting makeup on.
The one you just called baby? You would be crying too if your mother was dead.
The one you just tripped?  I think she's abused enough at home.
There's a lot more to a person than you think.  Stop bullying those who are different.

You cannot tell enough by just looking at someone who they are inside, but folks try all the time.  They look at someone and make assumptions about who they are, what their lives are like, how they express their personhood, and what they believe.  And then they use those assumptions to tease, belittle, bully, and abuse those “other” than themselves.  It is time we started a new school tradition – one where we accept each other.  I realize I may be idealistic and unrealistic but I believe we can achieve it.  Talk to your kids about bullying – so they will not participate in it, so they know what to do if it happens in their presence to others, and so they will know who to talk to if they are victims.  But bullying happens outside of school, too.  So talk to them about cyber-bullying and how they can avoid it, report it, and help their friends who might be cyber-bullied.  

One person at a time can make a difference.  You can make a difference … and so can you kids.  Educate them to be kind, to be accepting of others, to not use derogatory words or phrases, and to report bullying to teachers and administrators.  You can make a difference. 

Why Does My Technology Hate Me?

I am on my 4^th Kindle since Christmas 2010.  Some have crashed on their own and one because I dropped it.  And so I sat waiting as each one was shipped out by Amazon to me one by one.  My smartphone has been replaced at least once.  And it always required some sort of wait until the new one arrived.  My Plasma TV went out last month and since it was barely out of warranty, Samsung replaced it for a small exchange fee.  We sat and watched a little bitty TV for over a week waiting for the new one.  I have already had to have Dell replace a dud laptop once.  Now my new laptop (the replacement I got from them in November of 2010) is heating up and acting strange.  I got a box from Dell today for me to ship it off for service.  My technology woes are legendary on my Facebook page.  Every time I post something about a tech issue – folks comment that technology and I do not seem to mix.  But we have to.

My job is to teach young ministers to preach, to engage social media in their ministries, and to utilize imagery in their multi-media sermon preparation.  I teach using PowerPoint and media displays.  So using technology is something that I do every single day – it is part of my working life.  Add to that my personal use of technology for Facebook, email, news, blogging, etc.  It seems that tech is a big part of my life. My phone keeps me connected and my TV helps to entertain me.  I read a LOT and have found my Kindle to be an amazing gift for ease of access to all kinds of books.  I am on my laptop almost every evening and sometimes during the day as well.  I need my tech.

But once again I will be without my laptop for a week to ten days.  I do not want to do it.  I know I have an old back up to use but it makes me nervous that I might be disconnected for a while.  Or that I might be connected slowly … that my old computer will be so slow it may not be worth being online at all. 

When I discovered how nervous I was feeling about sending my computer off again – I had to stop and think about my addiction to tech.  I feel like I need to check my Facebook, process my email, and read friends’ blog posts on a regular basis.  I don’t think I am alone in this.  Many people are connected too much to their technology today.  Families sit at dinner and never speak as they play games and surf on their mobile devices.  Teens sit in the same room and text each other rather than risk being overheard by others.  Parents sit at their computers and fail to be there for their kids.  Not everyone is like this – but it is easy to get sucked into the cycle of gadget addiction.

So maybe this imposed vacation from my laptop will be good for me.  And maybe it will drive me over the edge.  Either way – it seems I need it.

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 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!

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.

Yes, I’m Emotional … and It’s Not a Weakness

I had my final seminary class of the semester this week and I got quite emotional.  As a class we have gotten very close. We have talked about our joys and concerns, prayed together, and shared parts of our lives together over the course of the last four months.  Some in the class are leaving next week after our graduation ceremony.  Others are leaving campus to go on their internship year.  Some will stay here but I may not have them in class again.  I have thoroughly enjoyed this group of students and had a delightful time teaching them.  I will miss them.  So these are the very logical reasons why I got emotional, but the truth is I cry a lot.

I cry during sad movies and TV shows.  I lose it during tragedies.  I take extra tissues when going to concerts and events with my family.   I weep at sappy commercials.  (The Christmas Folgers commercials get me every time.)   I shed tears over things that make my son roll his eyes at me -- often.   I am not alone – my parents are weepers, too.  It is genetic.  I am sure of it. I know they did this to me.  Over my almost 49 years of life I have had to try to accept it.

However, there have been times when folks have used my tendency toward being emotional to assume I am weak because I cry.  That is so far from the truth that it is laughable, but many have made that mistake.   At the same time, I have fallen prey to believing their “truth” – that crying did make me weaker or that it was a bad thing.  I believed the hype.  And it is everywhere.

I have heard parents tell their sons not to cry when they are hurt because “big boys don’t cry.” (Not a practice I gave into at all.)  I witnessed a mother tell her daughter that she was “too pretty to cry.”   I have heard others tell themselves or others that showing emotion is being a crybaby.  I was even told by a boss once that I must be trying to garner attention on purpose when I cried while telling a story.  The message of emotions equaling weakness is prevalent.

But why is being emotional considered a bad thing?  Isn’t it evidence of someone in tune with themselves and with their inner feelings?   I have decided not to believe the hype.  Here is what I think.  Being emotional is a sign of strength.  Being willing to show one’s emotion is powerful.  Connecting to one’s inner feelings is a good thing.  It is a part of me that I have moaned about in the past.  It is a part of me that I have actually prayed to go away.  But it is part of me – it is strength and power.  So when I cry – it’s me.  My parents passed it on me, but more than that – God made me this way. 

I confess … I’m a Crybaby … and PROUD OF IT!!

Finding Balance …

Over the last few weeks I had some extra time with my son and there were many times that I felt very lucky to be so fortunate.  I know a lot of parents who rarely get the types of quality time I get to enjoy.  However, there were also a few times that I was seriously considering military school (and I’m a pacifist).  Being a parent means everything to me but it is also hard work.  There are times when I know it is worth it – times when his compassion and care for others make me proud, times when he looks out for others in ways that make me smile, and times when he displays awareness about the world that shows what a wise old soul he has.  Being a parent is fun most of the time.

There are times when being a parent takes so much effort and time that I wonder how I will be able to do it.  There are times when being a parent makes me crazy with worry and anxiety.  And there are times when being a parent makes me feel like I am doing God’s work preparing the next generation to walk in faith.

Finding the time and effort is sometimes hard.  I am answering my call in ministry teaching pastors to preach the Gospel.  I am working hard to be the hands and feet of Jesus as I work for justice in my community.  And including him in my work for justice means he sees me live my faith and he gets to follow that example.  But the one of the most important things I do for God – is being a parent.   Making the time is vital.  No matter how busy my work and personal life become – I have to find balance so that my son knows he is my priority. 

I thank God every day for the blessing of my son, who is adopted from an orphanage in Yekaterinburg, Russia.  His mother left him in the hospital after giving birth.  She told a nurse there that she could not afford a child and that her family would not allow her to bring him home.  Because of her amazing gift of love – our family was formed.  And despite my pre-teen parenting frustrations, I am doing God’s work.  And the young man God sent our way is proof that God is good.

Grace and Peace –

Karyn