Don't let her be "that girl" Part 1

This weekend my wonderful husband and I escaped for a little getaway. It was absolutely delightful, that is, until we went to lunch on Saturday. We sat on the patio of a crowded restaurant in San Francisco, enjoying our delicious clam chowder and fish 'n chips, but our joy was stolen by the couple sitting just a few feet away.

At first the couple appeared to be having a great time. Laughing together and enjoying their conversation. Suddenly the girl knocked over her water glass. It was clearly an accident and she scrambled to stop the water from spilling all over her boyfriend. With an embarrassed smile she attempted to mop up the water quickly. But it wasn't enough for him. "What's wrong with you?" he shouted. And in that moment everything changed. A simple accident, responded to with harsh, condescending words pounded home a message to this girl that she was worthless, so much so that she wasn't even worthy of making a mistake. Clearly it wasn't the first time she'd heard this message either. How do I know this? I recognized the look in her eyes. A look of hopelessness, and defeat. A look that I, all too often have worn.

I spent years in a verbally and emotionally abusive relationship and while it's been years since I was surrounded by that, I still find myself feeling the effects of it. But the worst is when I see a young girl in a dating relationship who is subjected to that. I wanted to run over and hug her. I wanted to take her away from this guy who had just trampled her heart in one angry comment. I wanted to pass on all the things I have learned so that she wouldn't believe the same lies I had believed at one time.

Unfortunately, it wasn't the time or the place to do that, so here I am today, writing this post in hopes that maybe, just maybe it will help one person recognize the hurt a friend or loved one is experiencing and be there to love them through it. Standing by your friend/family member will help her move forward. You can play a part in her life in keeping her from being "that girl" - the one who dies a silent and lonely death inside by ways of emotional abuse. Loving her and holding an emotional mirror up so she can see her true worth will carry her through it. Not excusing her abusers behavior and not condemning her will help her gain the courage it takes to face her situation. Just don't ignore her. Don't look past her. And don't demean her.

For more information about different types of abuse, check out these resources:

• Focus On The Family
• HelpGuide.org

Spoiled By Prosperity

As a mom, one of the most valued treasures I have is my washing machine. But you know, sometimes we need to be reminded of how valuable our treasures are. Last week my washing machine died. Just like that. No more clean laundry in our house. So one day this week, I came home from work and loaded up the dirty laundry (and I'm ashamed to say there was a lot of it), bought as many quarters from the kids piggy banks as they had to offer, and packed books and video games and headed to the laundromat with the two kids.

When I got there, I looked around - disoriented, at first trying to gauge the level of cleanliness, where is it safe to sit and where can the kids set their food (yes I did hit the drive through on the way there)? As the kids played with the wheely baskets (I have no idea what they're really called but I do know that the kids sure loved them) I cringed at the thought of all the germs they may have on them. Now let me just take a moment to apologize to anyone who might be reading this who uses a laundromat on a regular basis. Please have patience with me - this is going somewhere,,. I started to load a few machines with clothing and after 3 loads which cost $2 each realized there was no way I had enough money to do all this laundry. I started to panic. I had many more loads, and my quarters were disappearing fast. Fortunately another woman there directed me to the large capacity machines where I could wash a quilt and a small load of clothing. I was actually so stupidly arrogant that I felt the need to explain to her that my washing machine broke and that was why I was there. What an idiot I am. When I saw the look on her face that must have meant "ah... you're one of those people who judge the rest of us here doing our weekly laundry" - I had to take a moment to stop and think about things.

I had a lot of time to think - 3 hours really. While my kids ran circles with the wheely baskets, checking the timers on the machines washing and drying our clothes - my mind raced. I thought about the large numbers of people who must use a laundromat all the time and how expensive, inconvenient, and time consuming it is. I thought about how blessed I was that I could not only do a load of laundry when it suited me, but I only had to spend money for the water and electricity to do so - way less than $2/wash and $1.50 to dry a tiny load. I thought about the vast difference there was in my life and the lives of people around this world. I thought about the wonder and awe somebody from a village in Thailand would experience just being in a laundromat. And the privilege it was to have clean water much less a machine to do to the work, compared to the dirty canals and sewage systems people around the world may use to wash their clothes.

And even with these thoughts running through my head - I caught myself wondering if anyone I knew had seen me as they drove by - and I felt ashamed - at first that I would be seen at a laundromat, but second that I would be such a snob as to even care.

It was somewhere in the midst of this internal battle that I found myself wanting to get to know the maintenance lady who was there washing the floors, cleaning each machine, and emptying the lint traps. She complimented my children's helpful attitudes and good behavior and I had to wonder what her story was. How many children did she see causing trouble or getting in her way? How often does she even get noticed? How did she get this job? Was it her only source of income? Was it fulfilling? Did she enjoy her job? I admired her work ethic and her professionalism. I liked her. I don't know why, but I was drawn to her. She was strong, hard working, and kind. She was an example that I would like to follow.

A few years ago, due to life circumstances, I lost many of my belongings that - most of which had meant a lot to me. And through that loss, I thought I had learned that "it was just stuff" and there is no need to be emotionally attached to it. Yet here I was, sitting in a laundromat, struggling with pride and arrogance when in fact I was privileged to even have a place where I could come wash my families clothes...that we had so many clothes that it cost us $35 in quarters... and that we even had $35 to spend on laundry.

In the midst of a polarized week - one that began with the devastation caused by storms and tornadoes in the south and on the east coast and wrapped up with a royal wedding - I have to take a moment to step back and realize just how spoiled by prosperity we are in this nation. I am ashamed that I could be so arrogant as to think there was something wrong with using a laundromat. I now see just how privileged I am that we could. And I have to say - while it's very humbling to have those moments when God opens your eyes to your own attitude - I don't want to lose it. I want to stay tuned in to the reality of what's going on around me, I want to quit being so caught up in myself.

Open during construction

Have you ever been in a store while they remodel? Or walked along a city sidewalk while they restore a building? It can be risky, dangerous and downright inconvenient at times - and if it's a construction zone you have to come in contact with on a regular basis - it feels like they'll never finish (particularly when they close a lane on the freeway - you know the one that was already backed up every day)...

Well unfortunately for those in my life - I've been under construction. For the past 2 years, God has been preparing our family for some big changes - much like a remodel - there must be behind the scenes work. Plans must be drawn, budgets must be made, materials must be purchased and crews must be hired and organized (and that's before the demolition even begins).

Well for 2 years God has been at work in our lives in sort of the same way. And then the project began to take shape. At first it was really messy, but we're starting to get to the point where we can see the value of the project. You could say the new paint colors are going up. It doesn't mean the project is done - but we're getting to the point where it's starting to look like it makes sense. It's been really cool to see God at work - as He paints each stroke, I can't help but look at the project with awe. While we prayed and prayed for this remodel in our lives - I simply wasn't prepared for what was to come. And yet - as we've had ups and downs through it all - God has been preparing me. He has been challenging me to look beyond the sawdust and the floor, littered with debris, and to stay focused on the artist rendition of the finished product.

I've probably said it before on this blog... but I just have to say it again - one of the greatest truths I've learned in life, is that everything has to look ugly before it can be beautiful - and when the Master Creator is weaving beauty into "ugly" - well... there are no words!

So lastly - before I close, I have to take time to thank the people in my life who have loved me through these crazy months, have prayed for our family and have been kind enough to not complain about the mess in this place, those who have resolved to be patient with us while we're "open during construction"!

It's the small things

So in the midst of a crazy season - when I find myself flying down the freeway of life at breakneck speeds - it's then that I realize - it's the little things that matter.

Tonight my 7 year old daughter made her own Barbie Monopoly. Each property was defined by places or things that make sense in her little world. Property #1 - "Hannah Montana Van" - this is her most prized possession. It's big, purple, hideously ugly and by far the most enticing toy she owns. So it makes sense that it would be property #1!

Her other properties included Walmart & Costco (which I believe we spend entirely too much time at), Virginia City (a local town that is by far the biggest tourist attraction to the 'wild west' set), and in place of Broadway and Park Place were the "Swim Center" and "Waterslide".

It could have been so easy to overlook the value of this board game created by 4 1/4 sheets of binder paper all taped, stapled and glued together.

But the star of this story - as much as it may seem like my daughter - is my husband. He is the one who pointed out that this game was a keeper, that this game was a reflection of our 7 year old's little world. And in doing that - he caused me to take a moment to really pay attention, to come up for air, and just take a look at my surroundings. And while it was a small thing - to suggest we keep this made up board game - it was indeed, a very big thing.

If I had the enthusiasm of barista...

Today I ran through the Starbucks drive-thru (a shock huh!). As the barista served my drink she pointed to a new product:

B: "Have you tried our new [product]"

T: "Yes", I wrinkled my nose (I always forget how expressive I am - until it's too late).

B:"What you didn't like it?" she genuinely continued "Why?"

T: "It tasted like [insert description]" **Note - at this point I was brutally honest about my experience with this product.

The barista was concerned that I'd had a negative experience. I mean really concerned. It was clear she loves this product, and she believes that everyone else will too. And so with all of her enthusiasm she asked me to stay put at the window as she ran off to find a free sample of this product. A moment later she brought the sample back along with a delicious sounding recipe for how to use it. And that's it - I all of a sudden, had a renewed interest in this product. I wanted to dash home and try it out.

This barista went above and beyond in making sure I knew about the product. She was unabashed about encouraging me to try it - and she was genuine in hearing why I didn't like it. There was no pride. My excuse didn't dissuade her from telling me more about it. She even offered me an alternative for the same product.

So it got me thinking... am I like that for Jesus? Now first off - I have to make it very clear. Jesus is everything, He is not just a product! But let's just consider for a moment, the passion held by this barista. And then ask - if she can be that passionate about a coffee shop product - then shouldn't I be a gazillion times (yes that is a real word - I looked it up in the urban dictionary) - as I was saying, shouldn't I be a gazillion times more passionate about Jesus?

I have to ask myself,

• When is the last time I unabashedly invited someone to church or told them about Jesus?
  
• When is the last time someone told me that tried church once and it was [..............] - and I truly listened?
• When is the last time I took what I heard about their previous experience at church - and offered encouragement for them to try it again - even if it's a different church, a different style but the same Jesus?
• When was the last time someone left a conversation with me feeling like they were heard? That they were cared for?
  
• When was the last time someone saw my passion for Jesus - and they caught it?
  

Hmmm... looks like I need to take notes from this passionate, unabashed barista. Maybe I'll go back there tomorrow - just for a little observation time... and if I pick up a latte - who can blame me?

Facing The Giant

This spring, my 8 year old son, Jonah (#23) played his first season of tackle football. Never before in my "career" as a mom had I experienced the pride, anxiety, excitement, and trepidation that came with watching him play. See Jonah's a little guy. I mean little. He's about 3 inches shorter than most of his classmates, (don't tell him I told you this) and he's so skinny he could still fit into toddler clothes. But that didn't stop him from being willing to take on the world of tackle football! You can only imagine our surprise at that first practice when we realized that he was not the smallest child on the team. Jesse (#24), was even smaller than Jonah; by at least a good 3 inches.

This little guy was tiny. He wore the smallest size football pants possible. His knee pads acted more as shin guards (his thigh pads as knee pads). What's amazing though is that his height difference didn't slow him down. At practice he would be one of the first out on the field ready to roll. Then the first game came along. There's Jesse on the field, excited. Ready to see some action - and onto the field, comes the other team. And there standing just a few yards away from him - ready to demolish him is a kid who must have been nearly 5 feet tall. So now we're talking more than a foot taller than Jesse. This kid is the tallest kid in the division, and here's Jesse facing him head on. From the sidelines, I heard Coach ask him "You ready?" to which Jesse replied "I'm freakin' out in here guys!" and then the whistle blew.

The quarterback snapped the ball - and the game was in play. Jesse played hard. I mean hard. He stood strong against his giant. He didn't let his guard down. And he made history for that team. As the smallest (and one of the most adorable) players in the league - Jesse set the standard for his entire team.

He was afraid - but he didn't back down. His bravery, loyalty and commitment overruled his fear. He faced his opponent with determination to claim the victory. I don't remember the score of that game - but I can tell you - Jesse claimed the victory on that field when he refused to back down.

So what/who is the giant you're facing? How often do you think inside "I'm freakin' out in here guys!" and then what do you do with it? See fear is just an emotion. A feeling. Our feelings are not wrong - but how we act on them - that's what counts! So next time I'm faced with fear, anxiety, uncertainty or any other feeling - I'm going to choose to stand my ground. Stay strong and act with courage. Just like Jesse did. I'm going to claim the victory!

Hello my name is...

I'm sitting at my 9 year old's swim lessons having a great conversation with another mom about the progress her daughter has made in swimming. We're having a great conversation when about halfway through the lesson another mom walks up to the bench this gal and I are sitting on and although she and I are clearly in a personal conversation - and in the middle of my sentence this other woman turns around and sits down in the 6 inch space between this gal and I.

I was shocked. I mean really - she didn't even bother to excuse herself before sitting right in the middle of our conversation? Odd. Rude. Down right intrusive. Now those who know me will attest my greatest strength is my greatest weakness - and my loudest - my big mouth. I sat back a few inches (she was nearly sitting on my hand) - and said "Excuse me" (Trying to not be rude, but still make a point). And without looking at me she says in a sarcastic tone "Thank you!"
This woman shows up every single day - late. She is not at all friendly. But I can deal with that. Here's where I cringe. She shows up wearing her name tag from work. And I don't mean an entry-level position. She's a professional. It is clear that in her line of work people skills matter. And my first thought is "I would never give her my business". All I know about her is that she has a son in swim lessons and that she is far from flexible, friendly or courteous. Now why would I give someone like that my business?

Now before you get all bent out of shape that all I do is complain on this blog... stop for a moment and hear me out. I am not saying I would not give her my business because she had a momentary lapse of judgment. In the week and a half that I have "known" this woman - the only impressions I have had of her are negative. She is representing the company she works for with this name tag - and this is the impression she leaves on people. That can't be good for business.

So as I sat on the bench - no longer in conversation - with another 15 minutes of humid, loud swim time left for my 9 year old - I had to ask myself - what name tag am I wearing? Who do I claim to represent? As a Christian - I represent God. Do my actions always reflect that? I wouldn't say "Always" - but I hope for the most part they do. I hope those who come in contact with me feel loved on, cared for. Lord - teach me to be an image of grace and love to those you bring into my life. Refine me - so that I may be a reflection of you. Lord I want to be - and for others to see less of me and more of you.