Monthly Archives: April 2012

Props

Since my youth, O God, you have taught me, and to this day I declare your marvelous deeds. ~ Psalm 71:17

We’ve spent several days talking about the life of a teen – the good, the bad and the ugly. I’ve offered up some personal examples in hope that, in some small way, someone else can relate.  Before ending this series, I would be remiss if I didn’t give God a shout-out for the amazing things He did in the midst of tragedy.  Today, I simply want to say thank you to Him by telling of His good works.

All of the events in my teen life (which only some have been shared on this blog for the sake of time) were shocking to me.  Most of them I never saw coming.  I was emotionally startled at every turn.  God knew how hyper-sensitive I had become to the instability in my life, and He stepped in one day in a most unique way.  I had a dream.  I was in a room with pale blue walls and dark brown furniture.  It had a big window.  It was quiet.  I didn’t know where I was, but it was calming and unsettling at the same time.  In my dream, I walked around the room looking at everything in detail.  I turned to close the door, and behind the door there was a cross with Christ hanging on it.  I thought to myself in the dream, Jesus is here – He is in this room.

Shortly after the dream, my mom had surgery.  I’ll never forget the moment we were told they couldn’t get all of the cancer, and her long-term prognosis was grim.  She was placed in a hospital room post-op.  I walked down the sterile maze of halls to find her room and entered it.  I had not just entered a hospital room, but a new phase with my mom.  Everything rode on her surgery.  We were waiting for the good news that she was on the other side of this.  That we were on the other side of cancer.  Such was not the case.  This phase was dark and terrifying.  Oddly, however, the room felt familiar to me.  I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it felt like I had been there before.  As she lay in bed, unaware of our presence, I scanned the room with quizzical curiosity.  Then it dawned on me.  Perhaps I had been here before – in my dream? I walked to the door and slowly began to look behind it thinking there was no way.  Yes way.  There it was…the same exact cross with Christ hanging on it. I knew then the gift God had given me.  He absorbed the shock value for me by letting me walk the new room, the new phase of life,  in my dream first.  Most importantly, through the same cross, Jesus reminded me that I was not alone – He was there with us.

Months later, on what would be my mom’s last Valentine’s Day, a guy I was dating at the time, (he was a bit older than me and was in the service) and I talked about how she was going to be all alone.  My sister had gone out for the evening, and I felt terribly guilty for leaving Mom to go out with him.  He surprised both my mom and me with a change in plans.  He came to our door with not one, but two huge bouquets of flowers – one for her and one for me.  He surprised us and told us that he’d be taking both of us to dinner and a movie!  And he did.  Even in the movie, he sat in the middle of us with an arm around each of us.  She had not felt that in a long time.  Afterwards, he took down the top of his JEEP and took my mom on the ride of her life.  He had her laughing and screaming and hanging on tight.  She had so much fun, and I enjoyed every second of watching her smile more than she had in many months.  He is a Christian, and truly the love of Christ shone through him.  It is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for our family.  God really was my mom’s Valentine that year.

A few years later, I was in college and wasn’t sure what major would be best for me.  Therefore, I took a variety of different courses.  As an undergraduate, I was given special permission to take some graduate-level courses.  Besides the full load of social work courses I took that semester, I also took a graduate class in the sociology of emotion.  It was one of the most interesting classes I’ve ever taken.  I was able to learn how emotions affect the human body.  It was fascinating and helped me understand myself better.  Moreover, I was granted the opportunity to take a graduate class in rehabilitative counseling.

At that point in my life, I had not received any personal counseling for what I had endured.  This class, for me, was like school and therapy all rolled into one.  It was there I learned the 5 stages of grief in depth, as well as other issues common to trauma and suffering.  I could not get enough of this class.  So much of what I was feeling about everything that had happened to me made much more sense.  God made a way for me to take both of these classes not normally available to undergrads.  This class changed my life.  And, it led me to the next blessing.

While taking rehab counseling, I suffered from strong chest pains, rapid heart rate, sweating, panic, shortness of breath, etc.  Every time it happened, I thought I was having a heart attack.  My newlywed husband drove me to the ER each time.  The last time it happened, my doctor was on call in the ER at the time.  He had already performed an EKG and other tests on me in his office and concluded I was fine.  But, here I was in the ER again with the same scary symptoms.  He came out to the waiting room (to my surprise) and squatted down in front of me.  I thought I was special to receive such personal treatment.  With hands clasped together, he looked at me through his glasses and firmly said – loud enough for the entire room to hear – Kristi, you are not sick.  There is nothing wrong with you.  If you want to see sick people, come in the back with me and I’ll show them to you.  I refuse to treat you.  What you need is counseling.  Now go home!  What?  How could he?  How DARE he!  I was mortified as I sat there wide-eyed in the hard, plastic chair.  I watched his white coat disappear behind the double doors and that was that.  Everyone in the waiting room stared at me as I got up and left.

I was spitting mad!  He did not have the right to chastise me in front of everyone.  He refused treatment for me.  He yelled at me!  His words…were right.  After days of replaying the embarrassing scene over in my mind, his words about counseling kept coming back.  I swallowed a large dose of pride and called my church to see what was available.  Sure enough, a social worker was assigned to our church.  The first time I met with her, I gave her the rundown of the many things that had happened in my life.  She very calmly responded, I think we have something to work with here.  However, I told her I could only afford $5/session.  (I was a newlywed at 19 and my young husband and I were working our way through college.)  She said that was okay.  I met with her every other day for an entire year.  I don’t remember the sessions, but I know that they played a HUGE part in getting me through grieving and helping me heal.  Kind of like running.  A runner can train for a year, and not remember every step, path or trail.  However, she still trains for the finish line.  The sessions are a blur, but each one of them got me one step closer to healing.

Sometimes we think nothing good can come of something bad.  The way my doctor treated me was humiliating, unfair and disrespectful.  But, it took that difficult moment for me to realize it wasn’t my physical heart that needed treating.  Indeed, God brought something very good out of a bad moment.

There are so many blessings God gave me through those difficult years.  How I wish I could keep writing and writing to share them with you.  Sometimes they were obvious, and other times I had to really search to find them.  But, He promised to never leave me and He never has.  For teens, parents, caregivers and friends, remember this…God is good all the time – even when life isn’t.  He’s working for the best interest of His children, for His glory, and His covenant promises to never abandon us even if we abandon Him.  Don’t give up…you have a life story, too.  What will you write?

Psalm 71:14-18

But as for me, I will always have hope;
   I will praise you more and more.
15 My mouth will tell of your righteousness,
   of your salvation all day long,
   though I know not its measure.
16 I will come and proclaim your mighty acts, O Sovereign LORD;
   I will proclaim your righteousness, yours alone.
17 Since my youth, O God, you have taught me,
   and to this day I declare your marvelous deeds.
18 Even when I am old and gray,
   do not forsake me, O God,
till I declare your power to the next generation,
   your might to all who are to come.  

Untangle the web of lies – What a teenager won’t tell you

As I prepare to speak to teen girls about brutal lies and cultural myths that we get so easily caught up in, writing about some of them on this blog has really helped me organize my thoughts.  I hope it has been beneficial to your journey as well.  Revisiting memories has been understandably painful at times, but it’s also been a huge blessing to see just how far God will go to rescue someone; that everyone is valuable to Him; and sticking through the rough times reaps beautiful blessings on the other side.

Two cents.  That’s all I have in my pockets today.  I want to offer my two cents with some tips that may help smooth some rough spots with teenagers when life gets hard.  I am not a trained professional.  My opinions are based on my experience, what I’ve learned in college and as a volunteer.  What works for some may not work for others.  Always consult a qualified professional before making significant changes in a teen’s life who has suffered loss.

* When dealing with a teen who has a sick or dying parent, don’t take I’m fine as an answer.  Certainly don’t push the teen to talk, but understand that those two words have little to no value.  If you hear them, let it be a red flag that you may want to follow-up on.  Sometimes they may not be up to talking, but they can also be testing you to see if your inquiry to their well-being is genuine or if it is really just to ease your own conscious.  Don’t ask them how they are doing.  How do you think they are doing?  Instead, ask how they are holding up.

* Familiarize yourself with the 5 stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.  Website of grief stages and their explanations.

* Understand that everyone grieves differently.  People should never compare grieving!  We are unique, as are our experiences and how we process them, and it is completely unfair to place our own expectations on someone else.  Judge not – it’s like kicking them when their down.

* Understand that the first 12 months are extremely important in grieving.  This doesn’t mean we count the months beginning in January, it means 365 days from the day the parent died.  Think about it, there are so many things that happen in a year (holidays, school events, social events, big and small moments in life that surround a particular date or memory), a full cycle needs to be lived out in order to understand life is never going to be the way it used to be.  Quirky family traditions for April Fool’s Day may change, first-day-of-school dinner may not happen, you know, family stuff – it’s all different now.  Be patient with the teen as they try to live through a year of firsts so they can begin to find a new sense of normal.  Yes, a full year.  I believe productive grieving can take place during that year, but life needs a year just to walk through each of the 365 days of being and feeling different.

* The Hospice website is an excellent resource for the whole family.  They offer priceless words of wisdom for teens, as well as a host of other resources for children, parents and caregivers.  I highly recommend this site for caregivers, family and close friends.

* Listen.  Listen.  Listen.  Don’t be so quick to offer a resolution, solution, or fix.  Just listen to them.  It’s amazing what can surface when a teen actually gets to have our undivided attention.

* For trusted friends and family – be there.  You don’t have to say anything, just offer a presence.  Teens who have suffered significant loss are waiting for everyone else to leave, too.  Find something the teen likes to do and offer your time with permission (i.e., watch sports, walk the dog, go to the movies).

* You can’t replace the loved one they’ve lost, but you can help ease the pain.  Remember back-to-school shopping I wrote about?  Perhaps offer to fill in a gap when the teen doesn’t know how to ask for help.

* Make your home a safe place.  Teens go through a lot every day – even on the best day hormones are raging and emotions can be unpredictable.  In a safe environment (not just physical, but emotionally safe meaning they feel free to be themselves without judgement) the teen can drop their guard and may just open their heart.

* Say the name of, and talk about, the parent who died.  One of the most painful aspects of grieving is that the loved one becomes invisible – as if he or she never existed.  People are either too uncomfortable or too worried they’ll upset the teen if they mention the parent, therefore nothing gets said.  For me, it was literally years before anyone ever said my mom’s name (my own family never even mentioned her).  It was an old friend of my mom’s who approached me.  She didn’t know that my mom had died.  This friend asked how she was doing.  I told her, and the friend immediately began apologizing up and down.  I interrupted her and said, Thank you.  You’re the first person to say her name to me in years.  It’s feels good to hear others remember her.  It was about 5 years after my mom died when I realized I had forgotten what her voice sounded like.  It absolutely devastated me!  I cried and cried.  Their legacy, memories and media (photos, video) are really all we have left.  Give the teen the chance to relive good memories when they’re ready.  It can be very healing.

* Offer to help.  There may be large needs you may or may not be able to help with, but I can promise you there are a myriad of small needs beloved friends and family can help meet.  If the teen is in sports, drama, music or any performance activity, offer to attend.  Empty seats are a heart-breaker.  Remember the teen’s birthday with a card or phone call.  Remember the deceased parent’s birthday with a card or phone call.  Offer to help rake the leaves in the fall, plant flowers in the spring, or go for ice cream on a Saturday afternoon.  Just being there is so helpful.  Offering a hand and sharing a smile in the everyday moments of life make the big milestones (holidays, anniversaries, birthdays, etc.) more bearable.  If everyone close to the teen each did one thing, just think about what a difference that would make to remind them they are valuable, loved, and remembered.

* Consider letting the teen make some decisions about their life when appropriate.  One of the best gifts my grandparents ever gave me was the freedom to let me choose whether or not to attend my high school graduation.  I DID NOT want to attend for various valid reasons.  They didn’t push the issue with me.  Today, I still don’t regret it.  Situations are different for everyone, but if a teen feels adamant about something that isn’t earth-shattering or life-changing, at least be patient and listen to their side. Teens in grief may appreciate feeling a little bit of control over their life in times of unrest.  My decision came almost a year after my mom’s death.  Careful consideration should be made concerning the 5 stages of grief and the teen.

* If you have pictures of the parent, scan copies and compose a small photo book for the teen.  Maybe add some short text about a funny story or memory; or what was special about the parent or how they positively impacted your life. People have different roles in each other’s lives. I can only imagine how wonderful it would be to have photos of my mom at work, out with girlfriends, etc. in roles other than as I knew her – Mom.  Online printing companies and superstores print these photo books for little cost nowadays.  It may take a few hours of your life to do this, but it will give the teen a lifelong treasure.  Wait for the appropriate time to give this gift to the teen.

* If I haven’t stressed this point enough already, make yourself available.  It may take days, weeks or months for a teen to be ready to talk, share or do stuff together, but just knowing you are willing to invest in their life can help talk a teen down from their proverbial ledge.  In the meantime, keep a watchful eye on symptoms that need to be addressed by a professional.  Offer a shoulder to lean on, an ear to listen, a heart to feel and hands to help, but know when to encourage the teen to seek professional help.  They are trained in the most appropriate ways to assist the teen to work through their grieving.  Our best attempt at “counseling” may prove to hurt the situation more than it would help.

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I hope these suggestions have helped shed some light on an issue too dimly lit.  Teens are far too often swept under the rug because adults don’t give teens enough credit that they have thoughts, opinions, feelings, questions, and words that need to purged.  Most teens are profoundly affected by parent loss.  Literally, the teen’s future hangs in the balance of how healthy the grieving process has been.  Research is downright scary for teens who are unheard, ignored, and not helped through every stage of grieving.  It could be the beginning of a downward spiral, or, with proper attention and care, the teen can come through the entire experience with hope, optimism, healing and strength.

Give the teen in your life every opportunity to grieve, mourn, heal and realize their full potential.  They have the rest of their lives ahead of them.  May they experience the abundant life Jesus calls them to in John 10:10 – The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.

 

Untangle the web of lies – eating, loss & labels

Hello!  Welcome back!  We are trudging through the waters of the tumultuous teen years on this blog right now.  Whew, I am reminded why adults say they’d never want to relive them again. :O  I’m ready to tackle another cultural lie.  Are you?

You are what you eat.  Isn’t that how the old saying goes?  For all intense purposes, I agree.  Yes, nutritional value plays a huge part in our well-being.  I gave up soft drinks, juice, fried foods and candy (not chocolate :)) eight years ago.  I may splurge for special occasions, but none of those are a part of my normal diet.  So then, why do I struggle with my weight?  Consistently inconsistent exercise is one element, but it’s not the main culprit.

To answer this question, perhaps the old saying should be revised…You are WHY you eat.  Bingo.  This familiar trap is as welcome as a tooth ache or flat tire.  It’s so uncomfortable because I believed that I was WHY I ate for so many years.  It’s something I still struggle with to some degree.

This is today’s lie we are exposing.  It goes back to my post about circumstances not defining us – but do we really believe it?

When my mom was nearing the end with her breast cancer battle, I had no one to help me through the emotional maze and stress of it all.  Not only was I trying to convince myself that she was going to be okay, but I also had eyes in my head that saw she was not.  No one would talk to me about the state of her health.  I warred with myself about this every minute of the day.  Add to that the pressure from school and trying to be a “normal” teenager, a daughter, a granddaughter, a sister, a friend (to barely a few), and a student.

I seriously think that adults cannot comprehend the stress that teens go through with a sick or dying parent.  Nothing in the teen’s entire world makes sense.  Nothing.

There were two things in my life that I felt were safe zones.  God and food.  Both were vying for all of me.  God was radically pursuing me with passionate grace, mercy and love.  Food didn’t pursue me, but it offered momentary relief from my troubles.

When my mom was still able to eat, I remember one morning before school (I straddled living in two houses at the time), I reached into the fridge to get something for breakfast.  I mistakenly took one of the only foods that my mom could tolerate.  My grandfather said to me, That’s your mother’s.  In an instant, I decided to use this moment as a cry for help.  I didn’t know how to express my need to talk about her, so I intentionally replied, Sure it is.  It all is.  It’s all about her. Wow.  That was really the wrong thing to say to a man who was nursing his dying daughter.  I know I sounded like a brat.  I meant to.  For me, what I said was my huge S.O.S. signal that I was in trouble and needed rescuing.  To him, what I said was solely ungrateful, mean-spirited and rude.  Even in that moment, I understood his reaction.  I would’ve felt the same way if roles were reversed.  I was going for shock value – and got it.  Let’s just say I never used that tactic again.  Actually, I never made another cry for help again.  I pulled away from everyone.  From then on, I internalized everything.

I now know physical bodies are not strong enough, nor have the capacity, to hold all of our emotions, feelings and thoughts.  Issues will find a way of coming out in the name of sheer self-preservation and survival.  For me, I came down with IBS (irritable bowel syndrome), but had no idea it was a real medical issue.  It was a living nightmare.  Mom had just died and I was secretly spinning out of emotional control.  IBS, at first, made me lose a ton of weight.  I was average, okay, maybe holding an extra ten pounds, but soon my clothes were literally falling off of me.  I remember seeing an old friend who hadn’t seen me since before my mom died.  As she walked toward me, her eyes grew huge and she covered her hand over her mouth as she looked me up and down.  I think people thought I simply wasn’t eating out of distress.  No.  My body was blowing up inside and I had no clue how to stop it and was far too embarrassed to tell anyone how sick I really was.

With IBS (and daily migraines!) in full swing, I remember standing in my grandparents’ kitchen one day.  I had drank a half of a glass of orange juice and set the half full cup in the sink.  Remember, my grandparents were from a different era and I truly understood that in my head, but my heart was another story.  No sooner did I set the cup down in the sink, did my grandfather come right behind me, pick up the cup and drink the leftover juice.  He looked at me and reminded me not to waste.  However, I was also living with my precious grandmother who had no idea how to help any of us 0r herself.  So she did what came natural to her.  She cooked.  She offered me food all the time, and my grandfather told me not to waste any.  Ug.  It was the perfect storm.

Then it happened.  One day, I felt a huge hole in my stomach.  I mean, literally, I felt a gaping emptiness overpower me.  Sensing this crossroads, Jesus spoke to my heart immediately and said, I am the bread of life.  Eat of me.  I paused and responded ever-so-eloquently, I have no idea what You are talking about.  Then I picked up whatever was on the counter and devoured the entire thing. Thus the food cycle began.

Food became a god to me.  It gave me something to do.  It kept me company when I was lonely.  Eating was a positive experience (though the IBS that followed wasn’t).  Eating let me put my nervous energy to use.  It was legal.

I am serious when I tell you I understand how people begin addictions to alcohol, cigarettes, sex and drugs.  I get it!   My pain was so deep, ominous, continual and merciless, if it had not been for God’s grace (by giving me a conscious the size of Texas!) I would have done ANYTHING to mask the pain.  I would have drank it, shot it, slept with it, snorted it, smoked it, anything to take the life-draining pain and stress away even for a moment.  This from a girl who had never so much as been called down by a teacher.  I was as vanilla as they came.  Not perfect (ha!!), but I had such an unhealthy fear of authority (thanks to my stepfather) that I had to be as good of a girl as possible 24/7/365 – no questions asked.  The pain was stronger than anything I’d ever felt.  It has been said that people will do anything when hungry enough, I believe the same is also true for emotional pain – no matter how out of character it would normally be.  Praise God He kept me from those illicit things, but I chose food as second best to Him.  I told God once, with food in hand, I know You are better for me.  I know I should go pray or read my Bible.  But that takes energy and effort I simply don’t have.  I want to feel better right now.  Food does that for me. I’m sorry, God.  It’s the way I feel.

God was still my heart’s desire, and I sought Him stronger than ever before, as best as I could, but I had this side-kick shadowing me.  I had a hidden idol.  Food.  I didn’t realize how out of control it had become until one afternoon I laid on my grandparents’ couch watching an old Perry Mason rerun.  I had no life whatsoever, so I logged many hours of television a day (which is why I hardly ever watch it now).  During a commercial, I reached down to grab a soda sitting on the floor.  It was empty.  I leaned over to find another one when I realized a startling fact – in two hours, I had consumed 12 cans of soft drinks!  What I know now about sugar and caffeine, I should not have a pancreas left!  I realized then I had a problem – one I didn’t know how to fix.

Food had become my feel-good friend.  It was my adrenaline outlet.  It was available.  It made me happy for a moment.  But, it was destroying my body from the inside out. Then the weight gain began.  It’s been a struggle ever since to retrain my thinking that food isn’t the answer for: good times, bad times, sad times, fun times, angry times, lonely times, celebratory times, bored times, happy times, sympathy times, and every other time.  What an uphill struggle.

This led to layers upon layers of self-hate because now I had added some extra pounds.  I felt horrible about the way I looked and the way clothes looked on me.  I compared myself with every classmate, stranger and magazine cover.  I hated that I overate.  I hated how I looked.  I hated why I ate.  I hated the IBS.  I hated that I had no control over any of it.  Exhausted, I gave up and gave in to the lure of overeating. And, I had grandparents that had no idea of my struggle and served me food and pressured me to finish the plate every time.

I had given in to every lie that was whispered in my ear.  You’re all alone now. Nobody cares.  You’re fat.  You’re ugly.  You’re pathetic!  You are powerless. You’re weak.  You’re hopeless.  There’s no future for you, so what does it matter?

Without realizing it, I had bought the lie – hook, line and sinker – that my circumstances defined me – I was WHY I ate.  It took years to unwind this thinking.  The Truth?

Yes, I was alone, but NO I didn’t have to be lonely.  The LORD is close to the broken-hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. ~ Psalm 34:18

Yes, I had a problem with food, but NO God wasn’t going to give up on me. Then Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life.  He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty.” ~ John 6:35 

Yes, my life seemed like a dead-end, but God is the God of new beginnings.  I waited patiently for the LORD; he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear and put their trust in the LORD.  ~ Psalm 40:1-3

Yes, I was miserable, but God offered a comfort deep in my spirit that not even food could satisfy.  May your unfailing love be my comfort, according to your promise to your servant. ~ Psalm 119:76

Yes, all seemed hopeless, but NO it was not.  Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him. ~ Psalm 62:5

Yes, I felt like a loser, but God wasn’t finished with me yet!  …being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. ~ Philippians 1:6

Yes, I felt unequipped to fight for my life, but God fights for us!  Do not be afraid of them; the LORD your God himself will fight for you! ~ Deuteronomy 3:22

Yes, I felt like there was no future for me, but the Bible says God has a plan. ‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the LORD, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. ~ Jeremiah 29:11

Before people judge others for how they look – their body shape or size; how they dress; or even their hygiene – it helps to look deeper than skin-deep and see if there is something going on beneath the surface.  I was called fat by guys who didn’t even know my name.  And, you know what?  I wasn’t “fat” by scale standards.  I just wasn’t model-thin.  If you are struggling with WHY you eat, I encourage you to talk with a trusted resource.  Food issues like mine (or starving, vomiting, etc.) don’t have to get the best of us.  I’m right there with you on this journey, learning more and more that our souls only find rest and peace in God – not the kitchen.  Taste and see that the LORD is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in him.  ~ Psalm 34:8

<<Check out the companion song to this post on my Tunes page!>>

Untangle the web of lies – guys & labels

We continue with the discussion of teen labels today.  Many teenagers see themselves this way – Tell me who I am.   Internally, teens are growing and changing physically, mentally, and emotionally at warp speed.  Externally, there are parental, school, social and community standards who all say, Follow me.  I know best.  Oftentimes, however, those voices contradict one another.  Their rules are different, they argue opposing expectations, and no one will back down from their position of being right.  Who in the world do teens listen to?  To confuse matters more, some of the “should-be” positive voices that impress their standard on teens are actually harmful (i.e., abusive homes, dangerous friends or fallen mentors) and it convolutes teens’ thinking even more.  It’s no wonder why being a teenager can be so frustrating!

So it’s no surprise when, taking all of the above into consideration, at the end of the day the teen relinquishes his or her own identity in defeat and says, Just tell me who you want me to be.

One of the stickiest labels attached to teens is how the opposite gender sees them.  I can’t think of many other factors that affect a teen more.  For teenagers reading this blog, yes, how we present ourselves to the world, and our desire to be accepted by it, is important.  It’s how civilization continues.  But, that’s when the labels are positive.  What happens when the labels hurt?

When I was in 9th grade, before the reality show “The Bachelor” ever aired, I found myself in the middle of my very own rose ceremony.  Forget the fancy dresses, mansions, and Barbies falling all over their Ken.  My rose ceremony happened on a baseball field on a Friday night.  A large group of guys and girls hung around after the game.  In that group was a guy that I had a huge crush on – for years.  And, he knew it (ug).  I thought he was the hottest guy ever, and oh how his dimples just made me melt.  He lived down the street from me, and I found every reason to pass by his house just to catch a glimpse of him and perhaps, maybe, get a Hi from him.  I walked the dog, rode my bike, ran for exercise, anything that kept me moving past because I never would have dared to actually stop at his house.  I was smitten.

After the baseball game, rumor had it he was going to choose between another girl (I didn’t know her) and me.  Oh the thought!  I was going to finally find out where I stood with him and if the strong feelings I had for him were mutual.  The group formed a circle, and the three of us were in the middle of it.  When I look back on this moment, I can totally feel the awkwardness of it all over again and cringe in discomfort at the whole affair.

He looked at both of us with those dimples.  Without a word, he walked over to the other girl, took her hand, and they walked out of the circle together and disappeared into the night.

I was…crushed, humiliated, devastated, mortified, angry, hurt, shocked and embarrassed.  I felt ugly, hideous, worthless, rejected, stupid, and a host of other feelings.  I compared myself to nothing more than the mound of red baseball dirt beneath my feet.

Have you ever said something out loud that you meant to only think in your head?  Yikes, I have.  This was one of those times.  I (accidentally) said under my breath, trying to hold my composure together, Why not me?  What’s wrong with me?  I never expected a response.  A girl standing next to me looked at me as if I really was as stupid as I felt and replied matter-of-factly, Because he knows you won’t sleep with him and turned and walked away.

Whoa.  Okay, let me just die and then ask you to repeat that to make sure I heard you right, I thought with my jaw agape.

The roseless ceremony was over, and the group of amused teens dispersed.  I was left standing completely alone, in the dark, behind the dugout, stunned and speechless.

I had just found out, very publicly I might add, that my label as a virgin was not a good thing.  I found out that it made me lose the guy I really liked and that none of my peers supported me.  As I walked away alone, I tried to figure out how he knew.  I am a Christian, but the topic of virginity never came up to me by him or anyone.  At fourteen, I didn’t understand the powerful impact that personal convictions can have on others – when not one word about it had been spoken.

My knee-jerk reaction, of course, was to move, change schools, change my name, dye my hair, and never ever mention this moment again.  But, something surprising happened instead.  God showed up – in the dark on the baseball field on a Friday night.  How do I know He did?  Because He gave me eyes to see a perspective I was completely unable to see on my own.

All of a sudden, my heart saw that the guy that made me weak in the knees had shown his true colors.  He wasn’t looking for someone to have a meaningful relationship with, to care about, have fun with and get to know better.  He was looking for sex.  And with that, he was looking at me as someone who potentially could give that to him.  He didn’t care about who I was, my thoughts and opinions, or what makes me laugh or cry – I was seen as a tool for his selfishness.  Oh, that changed everything.  This great-looking guy suddenly didn’t look so good to me.  In that moment, I realized my firm position in that I was not going to ever allow myself to be seen as a tool.  He had separated body from mind and spirit when choosing a girlfriend, and now I wanted no part of it.

God reminded me that I am all three (mind, spirit, and body), as much as anyone else.  I am valuable.  Priceless.  Important.  Significant.  I am worth the wait.

I saw that the amount of value I had put on this guy was not returned, but God loved me before I ever called Him my God.  God, indeed, is the polar opposite – loving me unconditionally, not for what I can do, but for who I am to Him.  His child.  His daughter.  Princess in His royal line.  Forgiven.  Beautiful.  The passion of His heart.  I saw the experience with this guy for the shallow, superficial event that it was, and I chose to walk in the Truth that I am worth dying for.  So are you.

All labels have a cause and effect.  I can’t think of one label that is 100% risk-free.  Teens who choose to be abstinent walk a difficult (but not impossible!) road.  However, it’s a sacred road that spares them from unnecessary physical, mental and emotional drama that is tied to promiscuity.

Do I regret that night?  Nope.  The Teen Creed offers an excellent piece of advice, Stand for something or you’ll fall for anything.  I had fallen for a guy for sure, but after his quick exit from my life, it was God who was there to pick me up, brush off my knees and put my dignity back together like Humpty Dumpty.

I wasn’t ashamed of the label that was pinned on me that night instead of a rose.  Actually, I was secretly glad that not only did this guy know where I stood in my convictions, but others did as well – without me ever having said it.  This experience spurred in me a stubbornness to be resolute in my convictions until my wedding day.  I was never going to set myself up to feel like a faceless, nameless tool again. And, perhaps it helped encourage other girls standing around that they too could make the precious choice of abstinence and save themselves the grief.

Regardless of your yesterday, you have the freedom to choose your actions today.  Although this guy never gave me another chance (nor did I want one), God is the God of second, tenth, and a thousand chances.  More than giving me a rose, God gave His Son for me – and for you.  Now that is true love.

<<Check out the companion song to this blog on my Tunes page!>>

Untangle the web of lies – loss & labels (re-posted from April 14, 2012)

Per request, this blog entry is being re-posted.

May God use it for his glory. ~ Kristi

**********************************************

Labels.  We all wear them.  Some labels make us feel like we’re on top of the world.  Others plunge us into an endless abyss.  Teens are among the hardest hit by labels.  In middle school, (what I affectionately call The Cannibalism Years) guys and girls spend their energy jockeying for a position of acceptance at least and popular at best.  In high school, labels are still clearly present, but for those who have survived the “lord of the flies” experience of middle school, teens emerge with a little more knowledge of who they are and what they want. Scars may be internal, external, or both, but I wildly applaud those who graduate middle school and are still standing when the first day of high school hits – as long as they haven’t left a trail of casualties leading to their success.

Labels during these years change like the wind.  Popular, freak, cute, funny, smart, nerd, jock, quiet, dweeb, stupid, pretty, weird, shy, daring, promiscuous (the nicer word), and  invisible – are a few off the top of my head. Depending on the day’s events, some of those labels are encouraging and uplifting.  Others push teens to the brink of wanting to end their life.  Oh the power peers have over each other.  (sigh)

Other labels aren’t so easily gained or lost.  Some are branded onto teens without their consent or permission.  Divorce, poor, orphan, and victim are a few.  I remember a teen in my high school that looked as though every day was his last. He was always dirty, his clothes were way too small, greasy hair, and he wore shoes that barely held together.  I cannot remember his name.  He was invisible.  He was poor.  He was never given a chance.  I often wonder what became of him.  I wanted to say something to him like, hello, but never found the courage because I didn’t know what to say after hello.  He wore his label on the outside. Everyone knew it and ostracized him for it.

My labels were internal, but just as isolating.  I was a product of two divorces, sub-par family finances, and a mom who was dying.  What do teens say to that?  You’re a train wreck and we don’t know what to do with you, was one encounter I vividly remember.  I went to a large public high school filled with people who had more money than we did.  It wasn’t just that we were a single family trying to survive on a secretary’s salary, it was that my mom spent my entire junior year in and out of the hospital with cancer. Unable to work during portions of the year, I really have no idea how our bills were paid – my grandparents helped, I assume, and debt accumulated.

While many classmates had predictable schedules, homes, extra-curricular activities and parents to buy them poster board needed for a project or sign a permission slip or drive them around to friends’ homes and parties, my day went something like this: Sleep at my grandparents’ house, get up, go back to my house, shower, get dressed, go to school, leave school and go straight to the hospital to be with my mom.  There, I made great friends with the stiff, cold vinyl chair in her room in which I did my homework and watched tv while she slept.  One night, with books opened on my chest as I was slumped back in the chair, the nurse came in, tapped me on the shoulder and woke me up.  She said in a soft voice, Honey, go home.  Get some rest.  She doesn’t even know you are here. Although I appreciated her kindness, her words pierced my soul.  All of this is for nothing? I asked myself.  I gathered my books and drove back to my grandparent’s house in a sleepy daze just to start it all over again the next day.

Nobody knew this because nobody asked.  All I looked like was a disheveled mess.  There wasn’t a parent to tell me, You need a hair cut, or Your shoes need replacing, or You don’t look so good, do you feel okay?  My mom was simply trying to stay alive.  She told me once after a hard chemo treatment, The only reason I am alive is for you girls.  You are my reason for living.  

At a time when I didn’t know if she was going to live, and if not, what would happen to me, I was still straddling a world of teenageness where I needed to absorb academic material for tests, not be tardy for school, and keep from falling asleep in class.  I got so angry at other classmates when I overheard their whining about boys, cars, parties, and the latest gossip.  I thought, You don’t have a clue what life is about.  Your stupid little problems are NOTHING on the scale of life.  Get over yourself.  I kept those thoughts to myself so I wasn’t run out of town – or at least out of school.  I was completely unable to identify with anyone at my school – but desperately, secretly wanted to.  If others were having similar life-threatening problems at home, they didn’t share them.  None of us did.  Why?  Because who wants to be around high-maintenance teens?  No one.  In this age of life, teens are incredibly self-absorbed.  It’s normal in their development.  But “freaks” (as I saw myself) like me had a daily inner struggle with wanting to be a typical teenager, but at the same time being forced to be an adult – handling grown-up problems on my own with no dad and a dying mom. (breathe)

I remember at the end of my junior year, everyone was talking about prom.  Oh good grief, I thought.  Can this issue just please go away?  Is there any other high school event that singles out social groups, money and popularity more than prom?  My first limo ride (and only limo ride to date) was to my mom’s funeral barely after my junior year ended.  In the limo I thought, While everyone is taking their first limo ride to prom, I’m taking mine to my mom’s funeral.  

Since we’re being honest about feelings, which is what this blog is about, I’ll mention another extremely painful memory that may surprise some who haven’t walked this road.  The end of summer before my senior year.  Why?  That’s when moms (or dads) take their girls shopping for school clothes.  I can still smell the stale mall air as if it were yesterday, and I remember watching the girls that went to my school walk the mall with their moms and their shopping bags while I sat numb on a bench sipping a Sprite.  As a girl, this hurt almost as much as not having been validated by the male influences in my life in yesterday’s blog.  It seems like such a superficial thing, but digging deeper, to me it was more about not being able to spend time with my mom, ask her opinion on what looked good on my insecure body, and such a time would be a sort of send-off to my senior year that would have been affirmed by my mom.  This one step would have felt like a natural progression toward the beginnings of her letting me go.  Instead, she was ripped from my life by a horrific disease, and I had to let her go.

My mom had died just 2 months before, and I was now living with my grandparents to avoid foster care.  They loved me.  I loved them.  But, it was their daughter who they just buried.  We were all broken and didn’t know how to fix each other, so we just went to our own corners and licked our wounds.  They were from the Depression Era.  They were frugal and financially wise.  A senior in high school is not.  Whether it be they had no concept of buying school clothes because they A: were too deep in their grief; B: too frugal to see the physical need; C: too out of touch to see the social need; or D: a combination of these – the bottom line was I began my senior year in my older sister’s hand-me-downs.  Yes, I am thankful I had clothes to wear at all, but these were nothing to brag about.  They were old and tired.  I didn’t have the nerve to ask my grandparents for new ones, so I wore them without a word.

In high school, when you don’t look the part, you don’t get the part.  It’s really hard to be accepted into social groups where you stick out like a sore thumb.  I didn’t dress right; I didn’t have the right car (I drove my grandmother’s 1972 Cadillac which was defaulted to me from my mom when she died); I didn’t have a home to invite people over to, and I didn’t have parents to take my friends and me to fun places like to the beach or a music concert like others had.

Did I feel sorry for myself?  No.  I couldn’t go there.  If I had stopped for one second to think about the enormity of what was happening to my life, it would have swallowed me whole.  My life felt more like a Jason Bourne movie, where one thing happens after the next and you can’t blink or even go to the bathroom because if you turn away for a second, there is something around the corner that’s going to get you.  In many ways, I felt like it already had.

Today’s blog is dedicated to all of the BRAVE young men and women who are fighting for their lives, or a loved one’s life, today.  I want you to hear the Truth – circumstances do NOT define you.  Don’t believe the thoughts or people that tell you they do.  You are not a label.  You are a person – loved by God.  

By God’s grace, you CAN get through this.  People asked me, When are you going to get over your mother’s death and move on?  I was so offended!  If you love someone, you don’t “get over” their loss, but you can get through it.  It’s too much to handle alone.  Seek trusted help to confide in.

There is more to say on how to deal with teen labels of loss and trauma, and on this blog we’re not afraid to talk about it, ask tough questions, or simply admit I don’t know.  This issue is real for a lot of teens, and every single one of you count.  You are important.  You are loved.  Your feelings are valid, and you need to know you are not alone.

<<Check out the companion song to this blog on my Tunes page!>>

Untangle the web of lies – loss & labels

Labels.  We all wear them.  Some labels make us feel like we’re on top of the world.  Others plunge us into an endless abyss.  Teens are among the hardest hit by labels.  In middle school, (what I affectionately call The Cannibalism Years) guys and girls spend their energy jockeying for a position of acceptance at least and popular at best.  In high school, labels are still clearly present, but for those who have survived the “lord of the flies” experience of middle school, teens emerge with a little more knowledge of who they are and what they want. Scars may be internal, external, or both, but I wildly applaud those who graduate middle school and are still standing when the first day of high school hits – as long as they haven’t left a trail of casualties leading to their success.

Labels during these years change like the wind.  Popular, freak, cute, funny, smart, nerd, jock, quiet, dweeb, stupid, pretty, weird, shy, daring, promiscuous (the nicer word), and  invisible – are a few off the top of my head. Depending on the day’s events, some of those labels are encouraging and uplifting.  Others push teens to the brink of wanting to end their life.  Oh the power peers have over each other.  (sigh)

Other labels aren’t so easily gained or lost.  Some are branded onto teens without their consent or permission.  Divorce, poor, orphan, and victim are a few.  I remember a teen in my high school that looked as though every day was his last. He was always dirty, his clothes were way too small, greasy hair, and he wore shoes that barely held together.  I cannot remember his name.  He was invisible.  He was poor.  He was never given a chance.  I often wonder what became of him.  I wanted to say something to him like, hello, but never found the courage because I didn’t know what to say after hello.  He wore his label on the outside. Everyone knew it and ostracized him for it.

My labels were internal, but just as isolating.  I was a product of two divorces, sub-par family finances, and a mom who was dying.  What do teens say to that?  You’re a train wreck and we don’t know what to do with you, was one encounter I vividly remember.  I went to a large public high school filled with people who had more money than we did.  It wasn’t just that we were a single family trying to survive on a secretary’s salary, it was that my mom spent my entire junior year in and out of the hospital with cancer. Unable to work during portions of the year, I really have no idea how our bills were paid – my grandparents helped, I assume, and debt accumulated.

While many classmates had predictable schedules, homes, extra-curricular activities and parents to buy them poster board needed for a project or sign a permission slip or drive them around to friends’ homes and parties, my day went something like this: Sleep at my grandparents’ house, get up, go back to my house, shower, get dressed, go to school, leave school and go straight to the hospital to be with my mom.  There, I made great friends with the stiff, cold vinyl chair in her room in which I did my homework and watched tv while she slept.  One night, with books opened on my chest as I was slumped back in the chair, the nurse came in, tapped me on the shoulder and woke me up.  She said in a soft voice, Honey, go home.  Get some rest.  She doesn’t even know you are here. Although I appreciated her kindness, her words pierced my soul.  All of this is for nothing? I asked myself.  I gathered my books and drove back to my grandparent’s house in a sleepy daze just to start it all over again the next day.

Nobody knew this because nobody asked.  All I looked like was a disheveled mess.  There wasn’t a parent to tell me, You need a hair cut, or Your shoes need replacing, or You don’t look so good, do you feel okay?  My mom was simply trying to stay alive.  She told me once after a hard chemo treatment, The only reason I am alive is for you girls.  You are my reason for living.  

At a time when I didn’t know if she was going to live, and if not, what would happen to me, I was still straddling a world of teenageness where I needed to absorb academic material for tests, not be tardy for school, and keep from falling asleep in class.  I got so angry at other classmates when I overheard their whining about boys, cars, parties, and the latest gossip.  I thought, You don’t have a clue what life is about.  Your stupid little problems are NOTHING on the scale of life.  Get over yourself.  I kept those thoughts to myself so I wasn’t run out of town – or at least out of school.  I was completely unable to identify with anyone at my school – but desperately, secretly wanted to.  If others were having similar life-threatening problems at home, they didn’t share them.  None of us did.  Why?  Because who wants to be around high-maintenance teens?  No one.  In this age of life, teens are incredibly self-absorbed.  It’s normal in their development.  But “freaks” (as I saw myself) like me had a daily inner struggle with wanting to be a typical teenager, but at the same time being forced to be an adult – handling grown-up problems on my own with no dad and a dying mom. (breathe)

I remember at the end of my junior year, everyone was talking about prom.  Oh good grief, I thought.  Can this issue just please go away?  Is there any other high school event that singles out social groups, money and popularity more than prom?  My first limo ride (and only limo ride to date) was to my mom’s funeral barely after my junior year ended.  In the limo I thought, While everyone is taking their first limo ride to prom, I’m taking mine to my mom’s funeral.  

Since we’re being honest about feelings, which is what this blog is about, I’ll mention another extremely painful memory that may surprise some who haven’t walked this road.  The end of summer before my senior year.  Why?  That’s when moms (or dads) take their girls shopping for school clothes.  I can still smell the stale mall air as if it were yesterday, and I remember watching the girls that went to my school walk the mall with their moms and their shopping bags while I sat numb on a bench sipping a Sprite.  As a girl, this hurt almost as much as not having been validated by the male influences in my life in yesterday’s blog.  It seems like such a superficial thing, but digging deeper, to me it was more about not being able to spend time with my mom, ask her opinion on what looked good on my insecure body, and such a time would be a sort of send-off to my senior year that would have been affirmed by my mom.  This one step would have felt like a natural progression toward the beginnings of her letting me go.  Instead, she was ripped from my life by a horrific disease, and I had to let her go.

My mom had died just 2 months before, and I was now living with my grandparents to avoid foster care.  They loved me.  I loved them.  But, it was their daughter who they just buried.  We were all broken and didn’t know how to fix each other, so we just went to our own corners and licked our wounds.  They were from the Depression Era.  They were frugal and financially wise.  A senior in high school is not.  Whether it be they had no concept of buying school clothes because they A: were too deep in their grief; B: too frugal to see the physical need; C: too out of touch to see the social need; or D: a combination of these – the bottom line was I began my senior year in my older sister’s hand-me-downs.  Yes, I am thankful I had clothes to wear at all, but these were nothing to brag about.  They were old and tired.  I didn’t have the nerve to ask my grandparents for new ones, so I wore them without a word.

In high school, when you don’t look the part, you don’t get the part.  It’s really hard to be accepted into social groups where you stick out like a sore thumb.  I didn’t dress right; I didn’t have the right car (I drove my grandmother’s 1972 Cadillac which was defaulted to me from my mom when she died); I didn’t have a home to invite people over to, and I didn’t have parents to take my friends and me to fun places like to the beach or a music concert like others had.

Did I feel sorry for myself?  No.  I couldn’t go there.  If I had stopped for one second to think about the enormity of what was happening to my life, it would have swallowed me whole.  My life felt more like a Jason Bourne movie, where one thing happens after the next and you can’t blink or even go to the bathroom because if you turn away for a second, there is something around the corner that’s going to get you.  In many ways, I felt like it already had.

Today’s blog is dedicated to all of the BRAVE young men and women who are fighting for their lives, or a loved one’s life, today.  I want you to hear the Truth – circumstances do NOT define you.  Don’t believe the thoughts or people that tell you they do.  You are not a label.  You are a person – loved by God.  

By God’s grace, you CAN get through this.  People asked me, When are you going to get over your mother’s death and move on?  I was so offended!  If you love someone, you don’t “get over” their loss, but you can get through it.  It’s too much to handle alone.  Seek trusted help to confide in.

There is more to say on how to deal with teen labels of loss and trauma, and on this blog we’re not afraid to talk about it, ask tough questions, or simply admit I don’t know.  This issue is real for a lot of teens, and every single one of you count.  You are important.  You are loved.  Your feelings are valid, and you need to know you are not alone.

<<Check out the companion song to this blog on my Tunes page!>>

Untangle the web of lies – fathers & daughters

I have been given the humble privilege of speaking to high school girls about lies young women believe.  With this task, I must go to the locked parts of my heart and open the door to my past – which is complicated.  Why bother? I’m on the other side now!  I’m married with children, wounds are healed, and life has moved on.

However, there are scores of young women in the generation behind me that are sinking in quicksand of brutal lies and cultural myths.  I have been there and deeply know their pain.  So, with my proverbial flashlight, muck shoes and a rusty set of keys, I’m going to dig beneath the surface of my current life and venture to lessons learned from my past, in hopes of speaking Truth into young women’s futures.

There are numerous books and articles written by professionals on this subject.  I simply want to tell my story.  An average, American girl and the positive and negative effects social culture and family dynamics have on a girl’s self-esteem, confidence, and perceived value.  I’d like to utilize this venue to think through a few things before speaking to the girls.  There will be more than one blog as we tackle different facets of the tumultuous middle and high school years.

(Deep breath) Here we go…

My mom’s second marriage began when I was four years old.  Her first marriage ended when I was one, and my birth father gave me up for adoption.  As a result, my stepfather adopted me.  It’s strange. Even at four, I knew I was merely baggage being brought into their 7-year marriage.  I felt left out, unwanted, and more of a burden to my stepfather than anything else.  My remedy?  Fly under the radar from day one.  Be as good of a girl as I could be, and although he might never like me, at least there will be peace in the house.  I may not have known those kinds of colloquiums per say, but I certainly understood the feelings associated with them throughout my childhood.

There is a ton of research today on the effects fathers have on daughters.  About a year ago, I was driving alone in my van when I heard the radio the program “Focus on the Family.” A psychologist was talking about what happens when a daughter (or stepdaughter) doesn’t receive affirmation and validation from her father (or stepfather) in her formative years.  There I was, just driving along, minding my own business.  As I listened to the discussion, I burst into tears and nearly threw up on the steering wheel – my reaction was instantaneous and reflexive.  Wow.  I didn’t see that coming.  A flood of emotions overtook me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.  Every single point the psychologist made was spot on.

A woman can hear every day from others how beautiful she is, but if she never heard it from her father – there is a chasm inside her psyche that remains void.

To this day, I have never heard from my birth father, stepfather or grandfather (all now deceased) one single word that I was pretty, much less beautiful.  If they thought it, they never said it, and I wasn’t given any reason to believe this was the case.  I cannot tell you how much damage this did to my self-confidence and feelings of worthlessness.

When I draw my last breath, I will have lived my entire life without ever having heard those words from the influential men in my life.

This sent me spiraling as an adolescent and teenager to try to convince others I was beautiful so I could hear those words from them.  I just needed to hear it from someone.  That’s my point.  If a father (or male influence) doesn’t tell the daughter in his life she is beautiful (both inside & out), she will look for that affirmation elsewhere to fill this innate need in her development.  It almost feels like a rite of passage into womanhood, and when it doesn’t happen, the girl never truly feels like she gets to grow into a woman.  Rather, she is stuck in a twilight zone of being and looking like a woman, but still seeing her reflection in the mirror as an awkward adolescent.

I remember one time in high school, my friends (a guy and a girl) and I were going out for the evening.  I rode in the passenger seat while he drove.  My other friend rode in the backseat.  When we reached our destination, I pulled the sun visor down to look at myself in the mirror.  I frantically checked everything in the minutest detail – hair, jewelry, make up, clothes, my smile – everything.  He turned to me and sarcastically said, So…are you going to date that mirror?  Ug.  His lack of tact, inferring I was staring too long at myself, was more salt rubbed in the wound of a girl who was desperate to hear that she was pretty so she didn’t need to scrutinize herself in the mirror of some guy’s car.  To hide my embarrassment, I laughed (with him, I might add) and quickly flipped up the mirror and bolted out of the car.

Fathers (or male authority figures) wield much influence over daughters.  This can be done the right way or the wrong way.  God forbid the father make fun of or be rudely critical of his daughter.  If so, he has set her up to be a candidate of marrying someone that will do the same to her, and the girl – now woman – will find it nearly impossible to realize her full sense of beauty if she’s always told she is the opposite.

Some dads may not be harmful with their words, but may be mute (as such was my case).  This defaults to the girl that she, indeed, is not beautiful.  Girls are hard enough on ourselves in the middle and high school years.  If we are not hearing the opposite of what we are already telling ourselves (I’m fat.  I’m ugly.  I’m a loser.  I’ll never measure up.), then the silence from father figures will validate these lies.

But, if a father pours words of affirmation into his daughter, she is validated from an early age.  This, in turn, boosts her self-confidence to follow her dreams, take healthy chances in life, and be beautifully independent from needing unhealthy approval. She can approach the world without having to date a mirror to feel accepted.  Yes.  A father’s influence is that powerful.

Fathers need to own their responsibility with their daughters.  They need to make time as often as possible to tell their daughter she is beautiful inside and out.  Even if things aren’t perfect between you two (life seldom is), but the relationship is open to communication, find something beautiful about your daughter and say it to her.  Preferably face-to-face, but if that’s not possible, text, email, voicemail, Facebook, IM, Skype, Oovoo, written mail, hire a plane to write it in the sky, or however it can be done – just do it.  You have the opportunity now to set her up for success for the rest of her life.  Take it.  As I have found out, life is short and you may miss your chance.

<<Check out the companion song to this blog on my Tunes page and book recommendation on my Books page!>>

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(A note to parents: Sons need to be reared from the beginning to be kind, in word and actions, toward their mothers and sisters.  When a boy has grown up finding the good in their mom and sisters, it will be more natural for him to find it in his wife and daughters.  Start now teaching sons what true beauty is, and to not miss an opportunity to tell her so.  This is one thing I love about my boys.  They are tween and teen and tell me on a regular basis how beautiful I am.  They notice my haircuts or maybe a rare, new outfit, but more often they tell me how much they like my jokes, admire how hard I work, and that I have, according to my youngest, the “bluebirdiest singing voice.”  They are learning to dig beneath the superficial surface of physical appearance and uncover the priceless hidden treasure of inner beauty.  How do they know this?  They see their dad example it.  And, I’m quick to tell them how much it means to me.  It’s never too early or late to start.)

Count your blessings

I took a chance yesterday and posted the funk I’ve been in lately.  For the rest of the day, an old truth mulled around in my mind.  When we’re down about something, the way to dig ourselves out of the pit is to help someone else and/or count our blessings.

While looking for an opportunity to help someone, the neatest surprise came my way.  I was in a store visiting a friend who worked there.  I had my kids and dog with me, when the door chimed that a new customer had entered.  I turned to see a young mom, her mom, and her special needs son in a stroller.  My dog caught his eye.

I saw him reaching out for her, so I knelt down beside the stroller, with his mom smiling and looking on, and held my dog near him so they could meet.  She was pleased to make his acquaintance (she’s so good with kids!), and it made him happy to pet her.  A simple pleasure – it totally brightened my day! 🙂

A while later, noticing a napkin lying on my car seat, I fetched a pen from the bottom of my purse, and began writing down the blessings I have received in the last 24 hours.  At red lights, in check out lines, waiting to pick up the kids, I wrote everything that came to mind and heart throughout the day.  In doing so, the heavy load I am carrying seemed a lot lighter.  Even dare I say, doable!

Between the precious friend my dog and I met and my blessings list, my perspective on the day did a 180.  You know, God could’ve been the parent we children want to avoid by lecturing me for how good my life is, how easy I have it, or how thankful I should be.  That approach seems to quickly be tuned out by kids of all ages.  Instead, He gently, tenderly reminded me of all the ways He is working in my life, for my good, while I run my race, by bringing the blessings of the day to the forefront of my attention.

24 hours of blessings:

* I was involved in a near miss between two vehicles – if one had hit the other, the large SUV would’ve slammed right into me.  Thankfully, no harm no foul (other than a near panic attack for me as I was driving our car that is on its last leg and this would’ve done it in!).

* After a trip to the pediatrician yesterday, my daughter, in fact, does NOT have a burst ear drum from screaming too loud on a roller coaster on our trip!

* As of 1:30am this morning, our taxes are done!!

* I have a husband willing to stay up, after a long workday, to do our taxes – yeah!!  Thank you!

* Received news that our beloved, extended family’s flight landed safe & sound.

* A hearty laugh with an old friend.

* When getting the van inspected yesterday, we were surprised that they also washed and detailed it – inside and out – for no extra charge.  Nice!

* Enjoyed a beautiful family walk under sunny, blue skies and a brisk breeze.

* I have the health to take a walk.

* The kindness of two strangers who stopped traffic to let me pull into the school parking lot this morning at the last minute so my son wouldn’t be late.

* Heard my teenage daughter’s favorite worship song on the radio, “How He loves me” by David Crowder Band and thought about how this song sings of God’s loves for us – and that my baby girl knows, believes, and accepts His radical love for her.  Oh, how that warms my heart.

* My youngest son surprised me with a rare, guilty pleasure – strawberry milk.  And, he served it in my favorite blue glass…with a smile…just because he wanted to.

* How glad my dog is to see me after our trip.  She is my shadow and literally smiles at me when I walk into the room.

* My oldest teenage son still comes to me for hugs every day. 🙂

* A good night’s sleep!!

* Read a new letter from our Compassion daughter in Asia and heard how well she is doing.  I love the picture she drew of her family!

* The joy of watching my daughter and our dog play hide-and-seek.  Yes, my daughter really taught her how to play this game and they love it.  Too cute!

* Took a moment to enjoy watching the first chipmunk of the season scurry off with a nut.  Aww.

* Had the privilege to attend mid-week church services without the threat of political or religious persecution or harassment.

* Thanking God for those in the military who, past and present, have given their time, energy and lives for our religious freedom.

* Met with an AMAZING group of women last night.  I am inspired and encouraged by their stories, their hearts, and the beauty of God in them.

* All chicks are back in my nest.

Blessed indeed.  It’s good to stop and give God due recognition for the blessings He gives us every day.  Like my mom always said, If you have the choice to laugh or cry…laugh.  Mom, you were right.

Run

Have you ever had a season of life when you think to yourself, I just can’t do this anymore?  I’m in one of those seasons.  What God called me to do, I will do, but over the years, it’s taken everything out of me.  My entire being says, Just quit!  I can’t quit.  I’m not a quitter – never have been.  I’m far too stubborn and strong-willed to simply give up and walk away.  But there is also a part of me that is acutely aware of my mortal limits…and I feel as though I’ve reached them in this matter.

I don’t want to hear my own pep talks anymore.  I can no longer weigh the pros and cons and attempt to try to understand why things are the way they are.  I’m tired of looking for the finish line over the horizon.  I want to be done.  I’m not caught in a web of self-pity, it’s more like I’m desperate to do the right thing, but feel I have nothing left in me to do it.

There really is nothing left to say, I just have to do what I was called to do.  I am no longer running, walking, or even crawling toward the finish line.  I am simply inching my way along, hoping to reach the goal.

I don’t resent the task, on the contrary, I’ve embraced it.  I want to make God proud of me for how I’ve run the race.  But I’m struggling between ideology and reality.  The reality is, I don’t know where to find the strength, passion, or enthusiasm to do what He’s asked me to do.

So where do we turn when we are used up, burnt out, and are totally over a task that calls our name and won’t let us go?   I’ve got nothing except Scripture to lean on.  2 Timothy 3:16-17 assures us that All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the man of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work. 

If you’re in a similar place in life, perhaps these Scriptures will help you, too.

1 Corinthians 9:24 – Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. 

Philippians 4:13 – I can everything through Christ who gives me strength.

Hebrews 12:1-2 – Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. 

Philippians 2:14 – Do everything without complaining or arguing. 

Isaiah 40:28-31 – Do you not know? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.  He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles;    they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. 

Ephesians 2:10 – For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

Philippians 3:13-14 – …Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. 

2 Timothy 4:7 – I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.  

Hebrews 13:20-21 – May the God of peace, who through the blood of the eternal covenant brought back from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, equip you with everything good for doing his will, and may he work in us what is pleasing to him, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen. 

Everyone runs their own race, and no two races look the same.  Why we spend energy comparing them I do not know.  Instead, let’s cheer each other on today. There is a race to run, to win.  Are we going to finish it, win it?  David’s words in Psalm 18 are a great fight song for today as we take one step at a time, putting one foot in front of the other.  May we find strength in our God, who is faithful and loving toward all He has made, to run one more day…

Psalm 18:30-36…

As for God, his way is perfect;
   the word of the LORD is flawless.
He is a shield
   for all who take refuge in him.
31 For who is God besides the LORD?
   And who is the Rock except our God?
32 It is God who arms me with strength
   and makes my way perfect.
33 He makes my feet like the feet of a deer;
   he enables me to stand on the heights.
34 He trains my hands for battle;
   my arms can bend a bow of bronze.
35 You give me your shield of victory,
   and your right hand sustains me;
   you stoop down to make me great.
36 You broaden the path beneath me,
   so that my ankles do not turn.