Two Hundred Sixty

Folks, we've got a teenager! I know it's been official for a while, but it's felt like a couple of years now. He's not fancy. Not extraordinary. Leaves well enough alone the things most teenagers get caught up in.

In fact, he's so unlike most of his generation that I'm quite proud to have an outcast for a son.

When I use the term outcast, though, I don't mean he's ridiculed or bullied. He's just a stand apart kind of kid who doesn't have a lot of tolerance for demeaning talk or harsh criticisms toward others.

So, two hundred and sixty. That's what he has to work with now that he can gain independence. Now that he can have enough independence to fall on his face. Or to make it through the next year.

It's not much, but it's his. I could talk and coerce all I want, but in the end this is good exercise for him.

Eighteen is when the government has decided he should be ready to fly the coup. Why would I wait until then to help him spread his wings? It's my job to start driving that wedge, a good and healthy one, between him and myself. And it begins with respect.

Love. Respect. Change. These are the new principles in my life that determine our future with a grown son. He knows it and we know it. And as much time as it's going to take we will start the gradual progression that slides him off the edge of the nest and out into the sky. The big, beautiful world that is waiting for him.

He's got a great start with his optimistic heart. He loves people and enjoys serving others. It's such a joy to watch him flourish as a young man of God.

When the day does come that he departs from our home, I pray he still sees the wisdom in our leadership. After all, what are we focusing on with our children if not everyday we are covering them in truth brought about by our willingness to be led from the One who sits on high?

Ah, the day he realizes I've always done my best to work in his favor as far as my abilities would allow! My son. My young man. My Cody.

His two hundred sixty. *And he'll never let me forget about it!*

Lack of empathy; Some revelations brought on by thoughts of Iraq

I hate thinking about Iraq. I despise dwelling on  ISIS. I clear my mind as quickly as I can when I think of what's going down in the Middle East.

Play a game. Hop on my iPhone or iPad. Listen to music. For God's sake tune out of all the garbage brought on by thoughts of atrocity and pure evil!

I cannot let my mind rest on that. I will not let myself be consumed by the dealings of peoples so far removed from myself. What good could it do anyway?

Does everything come down to what we see as good? Is it worth it just for its sake alone? What if I told you I lost one of my children today? That they died! Would you try to quickly move the conversation along? Hurry past the awkwardness of pain, suffering and despair? Never!

I've been fooling myself into thinking I can sympathize with these people without really focusing on their plight. What a hypocrit! What nonsense! I'm ashamed. As I suppose many others might be too.

Pray. I hear that a lot. I see it written a lot as well. But for what? That big, scary men would stop killing other men? For these guys to call it quits on raping women? Perhaps that someone will put down the sword that's about to behead a child and do the right thing? Typing these words alone is difficult for me. How could anyone actually carry out these duties?

And so I prayed. "Make them stop! Put an end to this! Bring these families back together!" It took me awhile to figure out, on a deeper level, that this is not new. The headlines are different, but the sky is still as sickening as it has been since Cain slew Able.

In no way, shape or form am I trying to downplay the madness or inconceivable brutality that's  taking place over there. Hang with me for just a minute.

There is a very real threat lurking just minutes from my home. A girl being sold into sex-slavery. A man physically and emotionally laying waste to his wife. Children starving. Homeless cold and alone.  Shame and poverty slithering its way through the streets of my town.


And you tell me to pray?


First, it would require me to stop. I don't have time for that. There's dishes to be done, bedtime routines, personal accomplishments to savor.



Secondly, I'd have to wrap my brain around what it is that's 'bothering me enough' to pray about. Who are these people? What are they being put through? Who are the aggressors? Where are the good people that should be putting an end to this? The list would move on and on.



Then it would move into the realm of sympathizing. How do I feel about this? What would I do if in this situation? How can I possibly be of any use?


(At this point I'd be rendered practically speechless, on my knees, crying. Shouting out with tears.)

To take into consideration the truth of the matter, regardless of circumstances, the foundation is the
same as even before Cain slew Able! God is good. His will is good.


*My head hurts. My heart pounds. I don't want to think about that right now! Don't you see the severity of my cause of prayer? How is it that I can even think about good right now? No! I won't. I must fight and toil against allowing myself to dwell on Him and His blessed assurance. These people need to know I ache for them.*


Or is it, really, that my life is so 'good' that I need to torture myself with depressing issues to escape the pressures of everyday life? Because I know I'm not met with these obstacles myself.


I'm ashamed. I've finally let the cat out of the bag. I don't deal with these things on a personal basis. I wouldn't want to. So why stop to think about it? Unless I'm ashamed it's not me, but someone else? Would I, could I, switch places with some of these so that they wouldn't have to endure such gut-wrenching tribulation? I say I would. I feel like I could. But... Truly?

I wrestle with this as a result of prayer. I've not just read another article to feel intelligent and 'informed'. To persevere through horrendous thoughts and obtain a place of surrender to my own selfishness and desires, I can claim truth to this just as much as the next.
The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. For Thou art with me. Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a place before me, in the presence of thine enemies. My cup runners over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me, all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of The Lord forever.

What sweet goodness. Oh, that I might be with Him! My wish, no. My prayer. For everyone.

You see, when I start to identify with those who are in conflict. Trudging through trials. I'm reminded of God's goodness. And as I think of His goodness, I'm bound to remember His grace. And if His grace abounds, then surely there is evil, a sickness. He sent His son to swallow it up. There is power in that resurrection! Life in His blood! That bloodshed is so good... For all.


Jesus gave very specific instructions on how we are to pray. He demonstrated it for us. Loathing and
self-pity had no place in that prayer. Disguised gossip and bashing of another had no place in that prayer. Self-worship and idolizing had no place there either. Forgiveness and the divine power of God were evident in that prayer. Pleasing the Father with few words was a key aspect of that prayer. Simple. Peaceful. Understanding.

So is prayer any good? Ah, if we could find more time for it.


Romans 8:35-37

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written, “For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 

I challenge you to pray. Get before the Almighty and off the throne of self. Pray for the persecution of the church, those in Iraq and even the ones in our homeland. Yes, pray.

Please put liners in your bathroom trash receptacles!

*WARNING* 

Explicit female material. Read at your own peril!

I'm about to have a crazy melt down rant. And you might agree or you might just laugh at the seemingly odd subject matter. For those of you who are like me, female and in your child bearing years, you might share my struggle with... dun-dun-dunnnn  NO LINERS IN TRASH CANS!

How is it that homemakers are leaving the liners out of their trash bins? Is this a new style or trend? Don't we need something to line the receptacle in which we throw gross snot tissues and other nasty bathroom paraphernalia? 

Does anyone know why this is happening?

I have an odd feeling it's because they don't want us to use their bins. If they had a liner in, then I would be less conscious about what I am throwing in there.

Ladies, am I alone here? Have you ever *needed* to take that special bathroom break in an unfamiliar place and been left with the dilemma of how to dispose of your 'female product' when you can't flush it and the trash can is empty?

Take for instance this special trash bin, wicker, that has holes in it and will absorb moisture. YUCK! PUT A LINER IN IT PEOPLE!

I know of no one who doesn't put liners in their kitchen trash cans. So why do that to a bathroom can?

If I have to use way more TP than I actually need to make 'it' look like its natural and not, umm, gross one more time I think I might start pulling hair out! (Not literally, I need all the hair I've got.)

I'm certainly not the first woman to develop the need for a disposal sight for my feminine tissues, nor will I be the last. And I don't want to have to be the lady who walks out of there with a wad of disguised tissue to throw into another disposal sight.

There will never ever be a trash bin in my home without a liner... Unless I don't want people to throw their yucky trash away in that particular room. You've been warned.

Life as a Sitcom

I want to be on a sitcom. I can't recall the last time I picked on my son and he just smiled at me and said, both laughingly and lovingly, "Mom, cut it out!"

No. That just doesn't happen in reality.

Today's 11 year old boys seem to take it so harshly. Have I conditioned him this way? Lord, I hope not. He's lived with a little jab here and a sarcastic statement there since his conception. Why the drastic turn then?
A deeper look, shall we?

Little Mr. 11 year old,
  By the time you read this computers will be extinct, and probably so will blogging, but I am writing this to you anyway.
  You may not know it, but I show affection to those I love by pinching, semi-slapping, tickling and just general horse play. GET OVER IT!
Love,
Your Mommy

This is what he'll someday read. If I don't write it down with pen and paper, it'll be a long time before he sees it. Which is probably a good thing, because I can't just come right out and say that to him. Some would say he has a 'gentle spirit'. Which is partially true. He's got a great big heart. The other thing he has is an overwhelming, almost busting at the seams, inability to let anything be just what it is. He's dramatic. Nothing is done or said with him or by him that doesn't have to have immediate attention.
God, help me!
If I seem frustrated it's because there's little room to navigate around him with so much tension just begging to burst forth! My only respite these days seems to be the bathroom.
Is this pre-adolescence? Is this testosterone plaguing his brain and creating such moodiness? Or is this just down right self absorption? Maybe a little of each?

Back to my ideal of 'Life as a Sitcom'.

I'd like a few half hour segments of situation, brought on by outside characters. Some turmoil. Wise words from some neighbor fellow who I'm sure has a head, but not so sure about the body. A solution. And to top it off some geek dressed in suspenders to make us all feel better when we look back, laugh and say, "Did I do that?"

No. I live in a drama.
And I'm not talking Melrose Place. (Although I heard it's beautiful there!)
The Camden's don't have anything on us either!

Truly nothing can compare to what we are dealing with here. And you know, I'm just fine with that. God has a plan and purpose in this season of life we are walking through. To confound and irritate me? Probably, but those are just by products of the things he's trying to accomplish in me. He promises to never give us anymore than we can handle and so far he's kept his word.

Well, I'm not really surprised he gave me a son like Cody. If you pray for patience... You get the idea.

Someone sure should pray for Cody though. Dealing with a momma like me can't be easy on a kid either. Especially since I'm still praying for patience.

*grin*

I Wish I Was a Rapper

Strange as it seems, and as awkward as it could possibly be, I wish I was a rapper.

To be smooth and fluent with my words, to reach people with penetrating lyrics and puns that are so intentional they make others say, "Ooooh!"

Yeah, I wish I was a rapper.

This white girl has had her ups and downs with hip-hop. As far as I can remember, I heard my first rap music around the age of 6. MC Hammer, now he was 'Legit'. I even had those baggy blue, paisley print pants that I wore whenever possible. Then there was DC Talk. They got me to 'Luv Rap Music'. My cousins and I would have dance offs and put together routines just to entertain ourselves and sometimes our parents. Ahhh, the good ole days.

When I came into my teen years there was a lot of rap I listened to, but didn't understand. I was just drawn in by the beat and rhythm. At the age of 14, our family suffered the terrible loss of my cousin Lil Ty. I took comfort and solace in Puff Daddy's version of 'I'll Be Missin' You'. It was like our anthem. Our eternal song in remembrance of him.

My mother, not being fond of mainstream rap music, forced me into hiding my CD's and tapes that I recorded from the radio. (Sorry, Mom! Confession time, I suppose.) She allowed us to listen to gospel rap like E.T.W. or Carman, when he tried to break out into the rap genre with 'Who's In the House?'

* Anybody else hear about 'Unicorn Girl' rapping that song after having her wisdom teeth removed? HILARIOUS!!

I also had periods of time that I hated rap. I think it was caused by the lyrics themselves. Some songs came out that were not very nice and my younger sister would listen to it and I'd become very upset. That's when I would go into a long period of listening to nothing but country. A giant shift in the pendulum, I know.

I happen to be the type of person who can listen to just about any genre of music. It just really depends on my mood. I love Celtic/Irish folk music, rhythm & blues, alternative, classic rock, heavy metal, operatic, symphonies, pop, gospel, contemporary. The list could go on and on...

But, when I became a mother, I became even more concerned about what I listened to, especially with my son around. You see, some of my fondest, and earliest, memories of my childhood involve music. Belting out the chorus to songs like Guns N' Roses' 'Paradise City' at a young age is something I still recall to this day. I knew whatever I listened to, my son would pick up on.

You'd think rap would be out of the picture under these circumstances. In fact, it is one of the genres my son loves best. I think it has a lot to do with rhyming. Kids learn to sing and read very early on by rhyming, so it only makes sense that rap would have a huge influence. Now a days they give old songs a new twist with a bit of a childs flare to come up with stuff like 'Do Your Chain Hang Low'. Cody and I had so much fun running around our old apartment singing that song at the top of our lungs!

Now that he's growing up (he'll be 10 in a few weeks), he wants to listen to new and exciting stuff. "Not that kid stuff, Mom!" is what I hear him say. And I'm ok with that. There's a whole lot of music out there I don't want him to experience, but I only have right now to guide him. He's the oldest grandchild, so all of his cousins are younger than him and look up to him. He has a responsibility as the oldest cousin, and soon an older brother, to teach and respect those under him.

I had a lot of older cousins I hung out with and we would listen to 'Gangsta's Paradise' and others, thinking we were cool. I'd like to think Cody will grow up being a better influence, concerned about the material others listen to. I know right now he has a heart like that and I hope it stays that way.

Right now, my son and I share a lot of music. It gives us time to connect and a place from which countless conversations start. We listen to artists like Lecrae and Flame. Messages of truth. Lyrics of faith and holiness. Men on a mission to see hearts changed and lives transformed. Not your mainstream rappers smokin' up, drinkin' and putting "bro's before hoe's". I would never want those thoughts to be entertained by myself, my son or anyone else for that matter. As L.V. said, "Why are we, So blind to see, That the ones we hurt, Are you and me?"

Today's forms of entertainment have started to sicken me. Maybe that's why I am always on the verge of tears when listening to Christian rap. To see godly men leading others passionately and intentionally through lyrics so powerful, I just can't help but get choked up.

Thank you, Lord, for rappers with heart! Men and women who are not ashamed of You and call upon others to leave their lives and live it for the One who loves them most.

I'm pretty sure I would make all my friends and loved ones watch and listen to this one video by Sho Baraka.

Cody, on the other hand, has a passion for this song. Sweetheart, stay strong!

Conclusion after further investigation, I guess I don't need to be a rapper, per se. I just have a passion in my heart and a belief so strong I want to share it with everyone else. I don't need a platform or a mic, just the tools God has given me to be a witness in my own way.

Peace!

When Tragedy Strikes

No one can ever know for certain why these things happen. One day you have a friend and the next day she's gone.

One thing I do know for certain is that God is in control. It's difficult to accept such a concept, especially with victims so young and lively, but it's truth and gives us hope.

I have spent the last several hours crying, contemplating, praying and in denial.

My body feels the warmth that comes from the sunny 70 degree weather we are experiencing today, but my mind does not comprehend it. There's no sunshine for me today.

I may not have been as close to her as others I know, but it didn't take long for us to be friends. She was just that sweet and fun to be around that it didn't matter how long you'd been friends. She was a friend who lived by the moment. And that moment was inclusive to just about anyone she was with.

Her laugh was infectious, her smile contagious. Her attitude was demanding, and her demeanor intimidating at times. She could sure make a place come alive!

Where, Bethy, have you gone? I can only pray you didn't feel any pain. I can only say, "Lord, you knew her heart better than anyone. The rest I leave in Your hands".

Unmistakable, unnecessary acts of violence. The circumstances bring many, many questions. Why? Where? When? How? What for? Who? Question after question seems to rake through my mind. Never does a thought go by without needing an answer.

Pound on my keyboard! Bang my fist into the wall! Sob? Take comfort in my husband's loving words? Let my son's fingers take my hand as he sees the pain written on my face?

And what about the others? The family? Oh, to grieve over the loss of a child! I won't even imagine. I can't come up with a complete thought. I don't even try.

Words fail.

Time is short. Yup. Life is precious. True. Not even something I can handle right now. It all falls short.

Pray. Yes, that I can do. I will give it to the Lord.

No TV Challenge

I have a great life. A husband who loves me, a son who adores me and pets who want to be around me constantly!

Those things would be all I really need in this life, but we live in the 'information age' and no one gets to live without some kind of technological gadget.

Enter in specimen #1: Television

Television has been around since the dawn of mankind... I think we are made to feel this way, although it's no where near true. Some people think it's akin to social suicide not to have a television residing in your home. Why is that? Because we can't all sit in a room together and have to deal with one another head on (like a family) without having a TV on so someone can tune the others out. Or, in those times of awkward silence, look to something else to fix the mood. Like: Oh goodness, I don't know what to say! Maybe if I stare at the tube long enough something interesting will come on and I can comment on that.

I have become extremely cautious about TV since I became a mother, at a rather young age. We are bombarded by so much stuff that they call 'entertainment', that I believe we become quickly desensitized to age appropriateness, laziness and just plain old sin.

Last week, a few hours before the Super Bowl was about to begin, my son and I were sitting around talking. He looked at me and said, "I bet I could go without TV longer than you could". Sounded like a challenge to me.

I quickly reminded him that it was he who had asked to watch TV every single stinking day that very week!
(It was driving me bonkers, every time he asked, so much that I literally wanted to pull my hair out!)

* When a mother gets to the 'hair pulling out' stage, you better run and hide.

A few moments later, certain he was not within an arms reach of me, he said it again. I told him I took it as a challenge and that for one week, starting the very next day, it would be no TV for either of us.

He immediately starting whining that he didn't mean it as a challenge and that he didn't want to do it. That's when I knew we must do it!

I am not anti-television. During the winter when there's not a whole lot to do, you will find me watching a movie or show. But, if it's a gorgeous day out and all I hear about is playing video games or watching this movie or that show, I get annoyed.

Now that winter is starting to come to an end here on the beautiful coast, I thought fasting of the TV would be just what this family needed before spring arrives! Ahhhh... Smell that fresh air!

Having the TV shut off for the week prompted me to start this blog in the first place. It also got my husband to sit down at the dining room table with me to eat our lunch and actually talk, rather than watch a Law & Order. It gave us the freedom from the TV in the evening, where sometimes we would eat dinner.

* Studies have shown that families who sit down to the dinner table together typically share their feelings with one another better and the children usually do better in school. Double benefit!

I have a family member, not mentioning any names, who could not sleep without the TV on. This, to me, was a shame. I would turn the TV off so that said person could really rest and they would practically jump up and say, "I was watching that" or "Turn it back on". It was the only way this individual could function during sleepy time.

It is clear to me now that they never got true rest because of the light that was always on and changing. Also, your mind and body can't possibly get to their truest form of sleep if there is constant noise, even that of a television.

* These are not just my opinions, they are medical facts backed up by research done on many different age groups and not just in the US.

Before I met my husband, and after I left my mother's house, I did not have a TV in my apartment. My son and I spent countless hours at the library and playing games on the living room floor. I think these are just some of the reasons we both have a love of reading and learning. Not to mention a great mother/son relationship. We talked and read to one another and actually looked each other in the eye.

I did eventually get a TV, but no cable. I have always thought it a waste of money, a luxury. A luxury I couldn't afford. We watched some movies, free from the library, and had a handful of video games which we played together.

I loved living that simply. Having too much choice and 'stuff' on hand, now a days, is seriously cramping my style. (And my son's brain!)

My last post, 'Stars in their eyes', was about my day this past week. My son was sent home from school with pink eye and guess what I did? I didn't want him touching anything, so I allowed him to watch a show.

Yes, I broke down. I gave into media. I allowed the TV to drench our minds as we ate lunch. All in the name of  'Don't Touch Your Face'!!!

What can I say? It worked! So, maybe we will try this fasting from TV again another week.

* Possibly during the season finale of House? My husband would have a conniption!