Hello, friends.
As my daughter keeps reminding me, we're coming up on our second anniversary. She came to live with me on April 18th, 2016. She's much more of a planner than I am. "What are we going to do to celebrate?" Um, I don't know, that's still several months away, child...
Anyway, it's been about a year and a half since I first met my foster daughter. She's a joy and a terror, like I imagine most daughters are. (Pretty sure my parents would attest to that fact.) She's grown and matured an incredible amount since we met, but she's still, well, herself. And herself is enough to drive me mad at times.
Case in point: today, I asked her to clean her room. I managed to clean almost the entire rest of the house while she managed to clean almost nothing in her room. At about seven o'clock, I gave her two options: she could take the next hour and do some more work in her room, or she could have free time until it was time to shower, with the caveat that she would finish cleaning her room tomorrow AND help me clean the garage, thus having almost no free time at all tomorrow. She chose the latter, for reasons that I still don't really understand. Except I do, because I understand her. She can't see past the immediate future. She's just not ready for that kind of thinking yet.
Recently, a parent at church has been pushing me to discipline my daughter more. He's someone I know pretty well and have a lot of respect for, but it still irritates me, because he doesn't know our situation like I do. I feel like I discipline my daughter too much, that all I do is yell and give orders. She knows that I love her, but sometimes I feel like I don't show it very well. She requires a different kind of discipline and a different kind of love than this other parents' kids do. He means well, but he's irritating just the same.
At Midweek School this past Wednesday, I had three kids behave so badly in class that their teachers sent them to my office, saying they weren't allowed to come back that day. All three kids are related to one another. It's easy to get annoyed with them - this isn't the first time I've had them in my office, and no matter what we do or say to them, they just keep acting up. They're disrespectful. They don't listen. They think it's funny when their teachers send them out.
They drive me nuts, but my experience with my own daughter tells me that there's more to this story, and it's worth my time to learn it. These kids require a different kind of discipline and a different kind of love than the other Midweek kids do - and that's okay. It's my job as the DCE to work with their parents and figure out how to help these kids succeed. Despite everything, they're just kids. I won't give up on them just because they talk back to me. And I won't judge them without knowing them.
Saturday, December 2, 2017
Friday, November 17, 2017
Public Service Announcement
Hello, friends. I'd like to make a public service announcement, so bear with me.
Unfortunately, but unsurprisingly, more sexual abuse/harassment allegations have come to light this week. I have no inside knowledge of any of these allegations, obviously, but I want to make something clear: just because something seems to be announced at a convenient time doesn't mean it's not true. It also doesn't mean that it is true. The important thing to remember here is that the majority of sexual assault cases go unreported. Approximately two out of every three victims don't report the crimes committed against them, and every time a victim comes forward and we accuse him or her of lying, another victim decides not to say anything, because they assume they won't be believed.
Some people lie about being assaulted. Far more people don't tell anyone, and their abusers have more opportunities to abuse other people. So no matter what the circumstances may look like, it's vital for us to give everyone who comes forward a fair hearing and a chance at justice.
This has become more personal for me in the past several years, first because of my short-lived position at a residential treatment center, then because of my involvement with the Children's Home Society in Tallahassee, and most recently, because of my vocation as a foster parent. In each of these situations I have encountered young people who have been abused. I can only imagine what the consequences would have been had those young people come forward with their stories and been shut down.
I suppose my point is this: don't assume, and show compassion.
Unfortunately, but unsurprisingly, more sexual abuse/harassment allegations have come to light this week. I have no inside knowledge of any of these allegations, obviously, but I want to make something clear: just because something seems to be announced at a convenient time doesn't mean it's not true. It also doesn't mean that it is true. The important thing to remember here is that the majority of sexual assault cases go unreported. Approximately two out of every three victims don't report the crimes committed against them, and every time a victim comes forward and we accuse him or her of lying, another victim decides not to say anything, because they assume they won't be believed.
Some people lie about being assaulted. Far more people don't tell anyone, and their abusers have more opportunities to abuse other people. So no matter what the circumstances may look like, it's vital for us to give everyone who comes forward a fair hearing and a chance at justice.
This has become more personal for me in the past several years, first because of my short-lived position at a residential treatment center, then because of my involvement with the Children's Home Society in Tallahassee, and most recently, because of my vocation as a foster parent. In each of these situations I have encountered young people who have been abused. I can only imagine what the consequences would have been had those young people come forward with their stories and been shut down.
I suppose my point is this: don't assume, and show compassion.
Friday, November 3, 2017
Disney Reflections
Hello, friends. Today I was listening to "Reflection" from Mulan in the car. (I would lie and say I only listen to Disney music because of my daughter, but let's face it, none of you would believe me.) Part of the song goes like this:
"Who is that girl I see, staring straight back at me? Why is my reflection someone I don't know? Somehow I cannot hide who I am, though I've tried. When will my reflection show who I am inside?"
I've always related to this song because I've rarely felt comfortable in my own skin - at least, not for very long. Oh, I did for a bit in high school and a bit in college, but ever since, I've been searching for what I'm supposed to look like. What I want to see in myself isn't always what other people want or expect to see.
I think I've found it.
"Who is that girl I see, staring straight back at me? Why is my reflection someone I don't know? Somehow I cannot hide who I am, though I've tried. When will my reflection show who I am inside?"
I've always related to this song because I've rarely felt comfortable in my own skin - at least, not for very long. Oh, I did for a bit in high school and a bit in college, but ever since, I've been searching for what I'm supposed to look like. What I want to see in myself isn't always what other people want or expect to see.
I think I've found it.
Here I am, in my (less messy than usual but still not clean) kitchen, wearing my Concordia cross country sweatshirt and a t-shirt from an Oklahoma state park, about to get dinner started for my foster daughter. If you'd asked me five years ago if this is what I would look like, or want to look like, I would've said no way. I wanted a husband by now, and maybe a baby, and a slightly bigger kitchen, and to be better at cooking and cleaning by now. But per the usual, God's plan trumped mine, and here I am.
Happy.
That's not to say I still don't want those other things. I do, and someday I hope I'll have them. But for right now? This is who I am, and I'm comfortable with that.
Thursday, October 12, 2017
Learning from My Students
Hello, friends. I'm killing a bit of time before my weekly mentoring conversation with Pastor Jay, and I'm thinking about something he says occasionally: sometimes, the things we discuss for my benefit end up benefiting him as well.
I experienced the other side of that yesterday during Midweek school. One of my high school students is our first and second grade Midweek teacher. Yesterday, she taught her kids the difference between "porcupine words" and "puppy words." (Originally the book suggested the term "teddy bear words," but evidently she likes puppies better than teddy bears.) You can probably guess the difference: porcupine words are intended to hurt people and tear them down, while puppy words are intended to help people and build them up.
When I asked her how her class went, she said that the lesson went more quickly than she was expecting, so she had to improvise. She did this by asking her kids to think about someone at school that they don't like, and describe that person using puppy words instead of porcupine words. This proved to be pretty hard for them, so she used herself as an example and described someone she doesn't like using only puppy words.
Not only was I impressed with her on-the- fly idea, I was also convicted by her example, because that's not only hard for first and second graders - it's hard for me, too. It's no secret that there are people at church that I don't like. That's a fact of life at any congregation or workplace. So often, I find myself only thinking of those people in "porcupine words," and I find it nearly impossible to find anything good about them because I'm just so frustrated. But that's not what the Bible teaches, and that's not what the Catechism explains.
The Eighth Commandment:
"You shall not give false testimony against your neighbor."
What does this mean?
"We should fear and love God so that we do not tell lies about our neighbor, betray him, slander him, or hurt his reputation, but defend him, speak well of him, and explain everything in the kindest way."
Here's to a renewed understanding of the Eighth Commandment, taught to me by someone I'm supposed to be teaching. These kind of moments remind me why I love my job so much.
I experienced the other side of that yesterday during Midweek school. One of my high school students is our first and second grade Midweek teacher. Yesterday, she taught her kids the difference between "porcupine words" and "puppy words." (Originally the book suggested the term "teddy bear words," but evidently she likes puppies better than teddy bears.) You can probably guess the difference: porcupine words are intended to hurt people and tear them down, while puppy words are intended to help people and build them up.
When I asked her how her class went, she said that the lesson went more quickly than she was expecting, so she had to improvise. She did this by asking her kids to think about someone at school that they don't like, and describe that person using puppy words instead of porcupine words. This proved to be pretty hard for them, so she used herself as an example and described someone she doesn't like using only puppy words.
Not only was I impressed with her on-the- fly idea, I was also convicted by her example, because that's not only hard for first and second graders - it's hard for me, too. It's no secret that there are people at church that I don't like. That's a fact of life at any congregation or workplace. So often, I find myself only thinking of those people in "porcupine words," and I find it nearly impossible to find anything good about them because I'm just so frustrated. But that's not what the Bible teaches, and that's not what the Catechism explains.
The Eighth Commandment:
"You shall not give false testimony against your neighbor."
What does this mean?
"We should fear and love God so that we do not tell lies about our neighbor, betray him, slander him, or hurt his reputation, but defend him, speak well of him, and explain everything in the kindest way."
Here's to a renewed understanding of the Eighth Commandment, taught to me by someone I'm supposed to be teaching. These kind of moments remind me why I love my job so much.
Sunday, September 17, 2017
Quiet
Hello, friends.
I'm lying on my couch typing on my tablet in the dark. It's about as quiet as my house ever gets; usually my daughter has music turned up loud or I'm watching an episode of a tv show. Right now, all I can hear is the tapping of my fingers on the screen.
Quiet is something I've had a lot of recently. Quiet at work with only me in the office, quiet at home because I've felt too ill to do anything. But there is no quiet inside my head. Internally, I feel like I'm screaming all the time. The pressure to be perfect, to appear strong when there is so much turmoil everywhere I look, is overwhelming. I can't handle it on my own. But it often feels like I have nowhere to turn.
This past Monday, I realized that the pressure was getting to me. I wasn't eating or sleeping. I was constantly nauseous and exhausted. I couldn't concentrate on anything. Everything made me frustrated. I decided that there was no point to prolonging the inevitable, so I went to the doctor and he prescribed me some medicine to help control my stress. He said to give it ten days to start having an effect. I'll see if it does. Anything has to be better than how I still feel at the moment.
I didn't want to admit this. The fact that I need medical help to control my stress made me feel ashamed - at first. But the fact is that we all need help sometimes. It isn't a bad thing. And recognizing that is the first step.
There was one other thing that made me feel ashamed. What right did I have to be so stressed when so many people have it worse off than I do? But that's not a useful way to think, either. My problem may seem small in the grand scheme of things, but that doesn't make it any less legitimate.
I guess my point is this: it's okay to admit to not being okay.
I'm lying on my couch typing on my tablet in the dark. It's about as quiet as my house ever gets; usually my daughter has music turned up loud or I'm watching an episode of a tv show. Right now, all I can hear is the tapping of my fingers on the screen.
Quiet is something I've had a lot of recently. Quiet at work with only me in the office, quiet at home because I've felt too ill to do anything. But there is no quiet inside my head. Internally, I feel like I'm screaming all the time. The pressure to be perfect, to appear strong when there is so much turmoil everywhere I look, is overwhelming. I can't handle it on my own. But it often feels like I have nowhere to turn.
This past Monday, I realized that the pressure was getting to me. I wasn't eating or sleeping. I was constantly nauseous and exhausted. I couldn't concentrate on anything. Everything made me frustrated. I decided that there was no point to prolonging the inevitable, so I went to the doctor and he prescribed me some medicine to help control my stress. He said to give it ten days to start having an effect. I'll see if it does. Anything has to be better than how I still feel at the moment.
I didn't want to admit this. The fact that I need medical help to control my stress made me feel ashamed - at first. But the fact is that we all need help sometimes. It isn't a bad thing. And recognizing that is the first step.
There was one other thing that made me feel ashamed. What right did I have to be so stressed when so many people have it worse off than I do? But that's not a useful way to think, either. My problem may seem small in the grand scheme of things, but that doesn't make it any less legitimate.
I guess my point is this: it's okay to admit to not being okay.
Sunday, August 13, 2017
Big News
Hello, friends. I have some big news for you - but said news isn't quite as exciting as the Big News of my call to Oklahoma. This big news is kind of scary. Pastor House, my supervisor from Redeemer and the alternative caregiver of my foster daughter, recently accepted a call to another church. He and his wife will be moving almost five hours away at the end of the month.
This situation is a weird combination of sadness and joy. The sadness, of course, comes from the fact that Pastor House has been a good supervisor and friend to me and a positive influence on my foster daughter. I will miss him and Audrey very much. The joy comes from the fact that God knows what he's doing, and clearly has a plan for both Pastor House and Redeemer. To use a cliche I usually avoid, when one door closes, another one opens.
I have a somewhat unusual prayer request during this time: please pray that Redeemer does not receive a new pastor soon.
The vacancy and call process will undoubtedly be stressful and busy for me, and selfishly, I want a new pastor ASAP. However, I don't think that's a good idea for Redeemer at this time. Our church, just like any other, needs time to regroup before it is ready to call another pastor. So please, pray that the leaders of Redeemer will be willing to take the time to do what is best for the congregation.
This situation is a weird combination of sadness and joy. The sadness, of course, comes from the fact that Pastor House has been a good supervisor and friend to me and a positive influence on my foster daughter. I will miss him and Audrey very much. The joy comes from the fact that God knows what he's doing, and clearly has a plan for both Pastor House and Redeemer. To use a cliche I usually avoid, when one door closes, another one opens.
I have a somewhat unusual prayer request during this time: please pray that Redeemer does not receive a new pastor soon.
The vacancy and call process will undoubtedly be stressful and busy for me, and selfishly, I want a new pastor ASAP. However, I don't think that's a good idea for Redeemer at this time. Our church, just like any other, needs time to regroup before it is ready to call another pastor. So please, pray that the leaders of Redeemer will be willing to take the time to do what is best for the congregation.
Friday, August 4, 2017
Sibling Story Time
Hello, friends. Gather around, for it is story time.
Ten years and a few months ago, my brother and I got into a big fight. This came as a surprise to exactly no one who knew us. Zach and I had a love-hate relationship that often leaned heavily towards the hate side. I have no idea what the fight was about, but I do distinctly remember that I was so mad that I decided to count down the days until he was going to move to college. I kept it up for over a hundred days. (I was recently reminded of this because it keeps popping up as a memory on Facebook!)
Fast-forward to this past Monday and Tuesday. My foster daughter and I made the trek to Marion to visit Zach, Lindsey, and Kylen. I emphasized to many people before we left that we were going to see Kylen, and there would probably be other people there, but my adorable two-year-old nephew was the priority. It's true, I did spend a disproportionate amount of time spoiling the little guy, but I also spent a lot of time talking with Zach. This has led me to a shocking conclusion:
I actually like my brother a lot.
There, I said it.
There's something unique about the bond between brother and sister. Like I said earlier, we used to argue constantly, but despite all that, there was never a time that we didn't love each other. I think it's only in the last several years that we've honestly started liking each other. I'm glad for the change, big bro. Thanks for being a role model for me. Thanks for talking through everything from taxes to parenting with me. You're an incredible father and husband and yes, brother - as much as the me of ten years ago would never believe it. Now, instead of counting down the days until you leave, I'm counting down the days until I can see you again.
And Kylen. Because he's cuter than you.
Ten years and a few months ago, my brother and I got into a big fight. This came as a surprise to exactly no one who knew us. Zach and I had a love-hate relationship that often leaned heavily towards the hate side. I have no idea what the fight was about, but I do distinctly remember that I was so mad that I decided to count down the days until he was going to move to college. I kept it up for over a hundred days. (I was recently reminded of this because it keeps popping up as a memory on Facebook!)
Fast-forward to this past Monday and Tuesday. My foster daughter and I made the trek to Marion to visit Zach, Lindsey, and Kylen. I emphasized to many people before we left that we were going to see Kylen, and there would probably be other people there, but my adorable two-year-old nephew was the priority. It's true, I did spend a disproportionate amount of time spoiling the little guy, but I also spent a lot of time talking with Zach. This has led me to a shocking conclusion:
I actually like my brother a lot.
There, I said it.
There's something unique about the bond between brother and sister. Like I said earlier, we used to argue constantly, but despite all that, there was never a time that we didn't love each other. I think it's only in the last several years that we've honestly started liking each other. I'm glad for the change, big bro. Thanks for being a role model for me. Thanks for talking through everything from taxes to parenting with me. You're an incredible father and husband and yes, brother - as much as the me of ten years ago would never believe it. Now, instead of counting down the days until you leave, I'm counting down the days until I can see you again.
And Kylen. Because he's cuter than you.
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