Tag Archives: thoughts

Hairy Dog, Agnostics, and Surprising People God Uses

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***Parallel Processing

Parallel process is a clinical term used to describe the common occurrence in therapy when the therapist’s own experience is reflected in the client’s. It is when a client comes in grieving over the loss of a loved one while the therapist has only just experienced his or her own loss as well. It is a therapist helping a client through feelings of anger and hurt that the therapist has also just recently confronted.

But, here’s the thing: we are all in parallel process. Too often in life it goes unsaid.

Here is where I say it.***

For my high school years I attended a captivating, red brick campus at the foot of Signal Mountain, Tennessee.  Both a boarding school and a day school, I experienced each of these worlds, living on the campus as a boarder my junior and senior year.  Are you old enough to have seen Dead Poet’s Society?  Got that campus look in your mind?  Ok, welcome to my high school.  In fact, I was told that they were going to film part of that movie at my alma mater, but because our chapel was under construction at the time it did not work.  SUPPOSEDLY one of the crew boat scenes has something to do with our campus?  Not sure how much of those rumors are urban…aww…suburban… legend…

That school wasn’t and isn’t for everyone, but I am not going to lie.  I loved it.  I loved my tennis team.  I loved my friends.  I loved the view from the library that overlooked the Tennessee River.  I loved the walk to the tennis courts…over Baylor lake that we always complained was a nasty mess, through the woods, to the tennis center… and I even loved the walk back…ALL the way up the hill to the dining hall…up all of those chapel steps…across the quad…my friends and I all sweaty from practice, our legs still wobbly from the suicide sprints Coach Bandy had ended practice with.

I was in complete awe that I had the opportunity to study and play tennis there.  I never lost that sense of gratitude.  It was as though God plucked me out of my life and dropped me onto that campus.  Freedom.  But that’s another story…

I loved my teachers, too…almost all of them.  (Smile)  But, like most students, I had a favorite in high school.  His name was Mr. Harris.  Hairy Dog most students called him.  He was short in stature, but what he lacked in height he made up for with his bushy beard, his dramatic flair for teaching history, his humor and enormous laugh, as well as the erasers he would throw at you if he thought you were being an idiot.

I was brand new to Baylor when I walked into his class that first day of my sophomore year.  I was scared to death and it only took watching a couple of erasers fly by my head to decide my quiet classroom nature would be a huge benefit to me in Western Civilization.

Mr. Harris’s classroom was straight out of a novel with old fashioned wooden desks, artifacts all over the shelves, and a teacher that could, at any moment, stand up in his chair with a Robin Williams flair that made me want to stand up and say: “O Captain! My Captain!”

Our textbook in that class?  Mr. Harris wrote it himself.  It was housed in a red Baylor binder and each week we would read our material, have a lecture, discuss, and then expect a quiz at the beginning of each class.  The quizzes were tough.  The only way I could ensure an A was to get to school early and go see Mr. Harris to make sure I had answered all of the review questions correctly.  Mr. Harris encouraged this routine among students and he could always be found at about 7:30 AM outside his classroom, smoking, and answering students’ questions…sometimes with a sarcastic edge.

I was afraid of Mr. Harris, but knew that in order to do well in the class I had to endure any potential looks he might shoot my direction in response to my ignorant questions.

So, morning after morning I would show up outside his classroom.

Mr. Harris’s curriculum for the class was challenging, but usually interesting.  He made history entertaining.  Then, one day, I turned the page and found myself staring at that day’s reading assignment: the book of Job from the bible.

Mr. Harris lectured that day on Job.  He explained the position of this piece of literature in Western Civilization as well as the Hebraic Canon.

He went on to explain that he was an agnostic.  He didn’t know if he believed in God or not.  He also admitted that he really struggled with the book of Job.  Why would God allow Satan to play with Job like that?  Mr. Harris brought up all sorts of things that day about a book in the bible.  He attempted to engage us in dialogue, but I am ashamed to say that many of the students, although professing Christians, knew little about the subject. “Most Christians know very little about their book, the Bible” Mr. Harris observed as we finished up class that day.

I left that classroom with so many questions…questions I took to my parents and others I trusted.  Mr. Harris had provoked me as well as my faith.

It was one of the best things that ever happened to me.

Over the year I would come back and engage Mr. Harris in conversation beyond the study questions for the quiz.  I wasn’t afraid anymore…just respectful and curious.  I was hungry…to grow.

I remember bringing him a tape of my pastor’s sermon because my pastor, who was also brilliant, had spoken on a topic that related to one of Mr. Harris’ lectures.  He actually listened to it and discussed it with me.

I remember when I thought he said something disrespectful about Christians in class approaching him about it afterwards…he was quick to apologize and explain.

I remember him walking…across the bridge, through the woods, to the tennis center…to watch our matches…and how he would praise my strong forehand and chastise my much weaker backhand.  “Your forehand is so good! What happened to your backhand?”

I remember his wife, who ended up being my French teacher, keeping me after class and quietly handing me a book, saying: “I thought you might appreciate this.”  It was the Bible…translated into French, Spanish, and German.

I remember…will never forget…Mr. Harris keeping me after class one day and expressing concern about how I had answered an essay question on a major exam.  “It sounded like you were losing your faith.”  I don’t remember the question or why my faith would have been relevant in the exam material, but I assured him I was not.  He was concerned because he did not want to be the reason.

My faith grew that year under the teaching of my smoking, antagonistic, agnostic teacher, Mr. Harris…but, I wanted to be challenged.  Craved it. I didn’t realize it, but I guess I was hungry for it.  Other fifteen year olds could have responded in other ways, but I was in the right place at the right time.

My relationship with an agnostic teacher who took time to talk with students every morning outside his classroom watered my growing love for scripture and theology.

Twenty years later, just earlier today, I mentally stood outside myself, regarding my attitude, and realized that I was being judgmental.  I know, I know.  It was awful.  Horrid, really.  I was sad to realize I was judging the ability or “preparedness” of others for God to use them.

I am appalled.  Really.

Anyway, I realized I was criticizing, thinking inwardly that because a person had not done “A” or HAD done/was still doing “B” they were not in a position for God to use them in certain ways yet.

Well, move over God…Emily seems to have a plan for how things should work!

Good grief.  Really, Emily?  REALLY?

But, the thing is…so many of us do this even if we do not realize it.  We put parameters on who God can use and how.  We say…inside our little insidious minds…you have or are still doing “X” so you really should not be doing this or God cannot really use you.  Or, because you have not done “Y” you cannot be effective here.

My judgment of others is like a boomerang.  It always comes back as judgment on myself.

When I make those judgment calls on others, I am also making them on myself.  I am saying…Emily, because you have done or are still doing, struggling with “X”, God cannot use you…so don’t even think about it.  Close yourself off until you are…PERFECT.  Until you have it all together.

My judgment of others is like a boomerang.  It always comes back as judgment on myself.

Or, Emily, because you have not experienced “Y” you cannot really be of use here.

This concern is something I struggled with a lot as a newbie therapist.  Either I would bring it up to myself or someone I knew would ask me: “Well, you have never been through “A, B, or C” so how can you help them?

I do not remember which teacher or supervisor offered me this analogy, but it goes something like this…

If you broke your leg, when you went in to get help from the doctor, would you stop him or her and say: “Have you broken your leg before?  Because if you haven’t…I don’t think you can help me. I need someone to help who has broken their leg…in the exact same spot if possible.”

So, what’s the point?

The point is God can use you.  Right now. Right here.

He probably already is.

You (and that person you were judging last week) will never have it all together.  Ever.

The church IS full of hypocrites.

We are all in process…messed up humans making mistakes all the time…seeking the One who can make us whole.

So, in the midst of my internal, judgmental rant (are you judging ME now?  Go ahead…it is awful, I know!), God quietly recalled Mr. Harris to my mind.  I had not thought of him in years

I thought about Mr. Harris, Hairy Dog, with his bushy beard, his dramatic flair for teaching history, his humor and enormous laugh, as well as the erasers he would throw at you if he thought you were being an idiot…

Mr. Harris…the antagonizing, agnostic…not who I would choose to disciple my children..and I realized that God knows.  He has the plan.  And, He can use anyone, anytime, anyhow to bring growth in a person’s life…if the other person on the receiving end is open to the leading of the Holy Spirit.

We are all in process.  I doubt many of you reading this are agnostics or atheists…but, I’m guessing you sometimes feel just as ill equipped for the job of helping others in faith and life.

While I appreciate testimonies and think there is something INCREDIBLY valuable in relating over shared stories and have participated in such powerful moments, you do not have to have broken your leg in the exact same spot as the person you are helping or ministering to.  You don’t have to have it all together.  God is probably already using you…and you don’t even realize it.

Maybe, God was using me in Mr. Harris’ life even as He was using Mr. Harris in mine!

Watch out! God can be tricky like that.  He has an amazing sense of humor.  He likes to use surprising people…people like you!

For What It’s Worth…Relational Transactions

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Therapy is way more than a toolbox of intervention.  Information alone cannot replace professional help. However, information can be very powerful.  So, for what it’s worth to you, here is the weekly post offering a therapeutic idea, concept, or intervention that you can try out in your own life or relationships.

An older but incredibly helpful theory in field of understanding human relationships is called Transactional Analysis, first developed by psychiatrist Eric Berne in the 1950’s.

Here is the basic gist of it.  Each person operates, communicates, and behaves out of three different parts of themselves: a parent self, an adult self, and a child self.  So sometimes when we talk to another person we talk in a parent, authoritative voice.  In other situations when we talk to someone we talk in a collegial, adult voice.  In yet some circumstances we talk to others in a submissive or even playful child voice.

What complicates things…or, rather, makes things more interesting…is that the person to whom you are speaking is ALSO operating, communicating, and behaving back towards you out of either a parent self, an adult self, and a child self.

And, then sometimes we can, based on past experiences, expect, anticipate, or assume that others will operate, communicate, and behave towards us out of a certain “self”.  Perhaps, this previous “transaction” has not been very pleasant and you learned to respond out of a certain “self” as a defense mechanism.

Let’s use some common, real life examples to understand how these relational transactions take place.

A husband and wife use all three of these “selves” when communicating and all three can be healthy.  When husband is sick (or vice versa) you can imagine husband taking on a “child self” as the poor sick little boy.  J  The wife might operate, communicate, and behave towards him as the “parent self” as she helps him recover.  As long as this relational transaction does not take place all the time there is nothing wrong with it.  However, while doing something like their taxes together it is more appropriate if they talk “adult self” to “adult self”.  If in a situation like this example if one spouse tends to take on the “parent self” and talk “down” to the “child self’ of the other it is probable not a healthy situation in the long run.

Or, perhaps a woman never felt acceptance from her mother so, in an effort to constantly try to regain the parenting she lost through that relationship, even into adulthood the woman might take on the submissive “child self” when talking to other women.  She doesn’t realize that taking on this submissive role puts her at risk of manipulation in some situations and makes women uncomfortable in others.

In some relationships this is how co-dependency takes place.  As one person in the relationship, the addict, constantly gets themselves into a situation when they are the child who needs caring and “picked up” the other person in the relationship constantly takes on the parent role that is sometimes the supportive, sweet mommy figure, but can turn into the nagging mom as the “parent self”, too.

A person might struggle to maintain friendships or for them to remain incredibly surface, but the person might not realize that he or she is constantly talking to others as the authoritative “parent self” and not everyone enjoys that type of transaction on a regular basis.  Often people adopt this “parent self” because the only way they feel secure in relationships is if they feel “higher” than the other person…compensating for actually a deep feeling of being “lower”…deep insecurity.


The classic reads in Transactional Analysis are Eric Berne’s 1964 book Games People Play and Thomas Harris’ book I’m Ok, You’re Ok.  Both are still very popular and in print.

What can be helpful about TA is to think about your own transactions and be aware of them as you go throughout your day.  How do you talk to others?  Do you operate, communicate, or behave out of “parent self’ in response to certain individuals?  To certain types of individuals?  Or, do you take on the “child self’ when relating to some people?

Without condemnation or judgment, I encourage you just to be curious about your relational transactions and the “selves” you take on.  This curiosity could lead to awareness that might spark some powerful life changing insight….and produce some life changing results in relationships throughout your life.

Saturday Sampling March 10, 2012

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Here is what is quickly becoming one of my favorite things to do each week…finding some of my favorite blogs to share on the Saturday Sampling! 

Here is a sampling of some posts from this past week that inspired me, educated me, or made me think.

Do you think I missed anything significant?  I try to look for variety.  Can you help me with that?  Please post any of your recommendations below so we can all benefit!

Rush Limbaugh and three evangelical blindspots

We need to read this thoughtfully and with open minds.

The Reluctant Pioneer

The words of a pastor in a church plant. Thank you for your example, Tracy.

The Word

We don’t read the Word to find a set of principles for life, but to find THE Word…Him.

The Small Picture

I love Tonia’s thoughts here.  I have been in this same place when it comes to children and wanting to make decisions to change things for them before realizing that they are right where they are supposed to be.  She has a lot of wisdom.

Why Did Porn Cost So Much?

I think the title gives you a good idea.  Thank you for your courage, Jonathan.

Reason #409 Why I Don’t Watch TV…Especially Good Christian B+@#$%

Some thoughts on the new show GCB…what are yours?

The fierceness of God

Here is a look at the mother hen nature of God.

Finding My Own Rhythm

I don’t like the word “busy”.  I don’t like to get in a conversational competition over who is the “busiest”.  Kelly talks about finding her own rhythm in the face of this cultural norm.

The Underground Railroad

Our freedom is not just about us.

4 Easy Exercises to Help Your Kids With Anxiety

A helpful blog with some basic tips for addressing some mental health care.

Mercy, Wholeness, and Self-Centered Perfectionism

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***Parallel Processing

Parallel process is a clinical term used to describe the common occurrence in therapy when the therapist’s own experience is reflected in the client’s. It is when a client comes in grieving over the loss of a loved one while the therapist has only just experienced his or her own loss as well. It is a therapist helping a client through feelings of anger and hurt that the therapist has also just recently confronted.

But, here’s the thing: we are all in parallel process. Too often in life it goes unsaid.

Here is where I say it.***

Our honey jar is almost empty.

Until my oldest daughter was in first grade she ate honey almost every day.

Ok, ok, for those of you who know us very well…she really ate the same thing EVERY day for EVERY meal.

Oatmeal for breakfast, peanut butter and honey sandwich for lunch, and chicken nuggets for supper.

We were going for the nutrition award as parents.

It worried us me sick, but eventually she grew out of her eating habits just like my more gracious friends and family members assured me she would.  She now eats salmon, tacos, and her favorite kind of food is anything “spicy”.

She grew out of her honey stage and now I am the only one in the family still eating honey on an almost daily basis.  So, when the honey is collecting almost empty at the bottom I dread to purchase a whole new jar just for me.

I often forget to leave the honey turned upside down, which makes it easier to pour out onto my toast.  In this situation, if I am running late in the morning, planning on eating my toast in the car on my drive to class in Knoxville, there is no hope that I will get the honey out in time.

Honey stuck at the bottom has to be turned upside down for what seems like an eternity before it runs all the way down to the bottom where it is useful to the person who wants to eat it.

All of my children have gone through stages when they have had little tolerance for anything less than “just right”.  Their food, their blankets, their homework, their clothes…if anything is out of order a meltdown ensues.  I often find myself doing a great deal of work helping my children learn to tolerate imperfection…so that they can keep moving forward…so they don’t get stuck…so they can laugh, enjoy life, and grow.

Growth and strength require flexibility and, like my children, I have struggled with being bendy since I was young.

In a very literal, P.E. class, presidential fitness test kind of way, too.  My arms just never seemed to match the length of my legs.  A dream of mine in grade school was to actually pass the reach test past my toes.  Since I could barely make it past my ankles, I never came close.

I still contend that something was wrong with the tendons in my legs that kept me from being a presidential fitness champion.

But, my lack of flexibility goes beyond my inability to touch my toes and if God had his own course schedule for me this school year I believe the course would be entitled: “Flexibility 101: Learning to Tolerate Imperfection”.

I have heard many people call themselves “perfectionists” and sometimes this proclamation carries an air of boasting to it.

What we often fail to realize is that perfectionists…TRUE perfectionists…often do not fare well in life.  Their obsession with perfection usually leads in one of a few directions:

  1. Never starting anything at all.  If you don’t do it, then you cannot fail.  Sometimes known as “Paralysis of Analysis”, people in this state will often spend a lot of time analyzing or planning, but never following through.
  2. Never finishing anything.  They get started, but out of fear of failure, they keep redoing, making changes, or stalling because as long as they are in process then no one can accuse them of failing.  After all…they aren’t finished yet!

And, remember what failure is…anything less than perfect.

3. The final, perhaps the most deadly, path of a perfectionist is when a person will put all sorts of valuable resources at risk in order to attain perfection.  These resources include time, sleep, loved ones, health, etc.

This path can lead to anxiety, depression, and all sorts of addiction.

Let’s be honest, shall we?  Perfectionism is insanely (and I do mean INSANE) self-centered.

The whole reason a person wants to be perfect is about their own image, what people think about them…their own reputation.

Perfectionism is rarely about benevolence and compassion.

Perfectionism is about the perfectionist.

Ouch.

I started this semester a little uneasy about how I was going to manage all of my responsibilities.  I have this bad habit that my husband now knows well.  When I get overwhelmed rather than shifting down a gear, I shift up.  I decide that the only way I will feel successful in this crazy time is if I do it all…and do it all perfectly.

So I can’t just pass my statistics class where we are studying things like polynomial regression…I have to make a 100 on every quiz.  Anything less and my day is a little bummed.  And, statistics is just one part of my responsibilities.  So I stay up late and get little sleep and put all sorts of demands on my time, re-writing notes three times to help me study, and going overboard in my teaching responsibilities, doing my best to never encroach on my children’s time because I have to be a perfect mama, too.

And, all through this school year I hear God’s whispering to me over and over again… I want you to learn to tolerate imperfection.  I want you to learn to be flexible.

NOT…I want you to be perfect, doing all things with excellence.

Somewhere in our American Christianity we have equated “excellence” and, perhaps, perfection, with faithfulness.

Matthew 5:48 does tell us to “be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect”.  Doesn’t than mean that perfection is not only condoned by God, but preferred?

What does this idea of perfection here mean?

The gospels often parallel each other and the beautiful part of hearing the story of Jesus from four different disciples is that we get a very full, beautiful, four-dimensional view of Jesus and His words.

Matthew 5:48 is found in the famous “Sermon on the Mount”.  The parallel passage for this section of Matthew is found in Luke. In fact, if you go and read both passages you will have fun seeing the similarities.  However, there is one striking difference and it has to do with the parallel verse to Matthew 5:48.

Luke 6:36 says: “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.”

What is the point here? What kind of information is this?  Maybe a closer look at the word “perfection” will give us some clues.

The word for perfection in Matthew 5:48 comes from a word that is translated 42 times as “whole”.

When you put all of this very cursory information together (you can find scholars who do a more exhaustive treatment of this subject I am sure) it seems that what God desires from us, more than perfection, is

Wholeness

Mercy.

My husband came down with the shingles last week.  He is an amazing, laid-back man with a big, kind, wise heart and a great sense of humor.  Although he was in pain he was able to laugh about his predicament.  Many people told him that shingles is caused by stress at which point he teased me.  I am pregnant and working on a Ph.D.  He wonders where the stress comes from?  Har-har.

I know I along with my pregnancy and Ph.D. didn’t cause my husband shingles (and so does he!), but I found myself hearing God’s whispers again.

I want you to learn to tolerate imperfection.  I want you to be flexible.

…so that you can keep moving forward…so you don’t get stuck…so you can laugh, enjoy life, and grow.

I’m like that honey in the jar.  Like SO much of our western, American society, I am so programmed to demand perfection. Like my children, I have a difficult time tolerating anything is not “just right”.   Changing my ways, altering my thinking is like turning a honey jar upside down.  It takes forever for the honey to start flowing down to where it is useful.

Like a train going in one direction, changing my way of approaching life means slowing the train down to a stop first.  There is a lot of screeching in that stage.

Then the train can start going the other way.

That Wednesday I took my statistics quiz.  I had made a conscious decision the night before not to stress out about it.  I just went with it. I was prepared, but I did NOT re-write my notes three times.

And, I did great.  I missed a question.  Big whoop.

When I got home I went through all the routine of picking up my kids, making supper, and getting ready for church.

In the middle of these preparations I got a phone call with information that was destined to rock our community.  A friend of mine, a precious family at our church, had lost a husband and a father, in a horrible accident…probably about the same time I was getting home from picking up my girls from school.

As I cried out for my friend and tears streamed down my face that night, I found myself hearing God’s whispers again.

“Please, please…

I want you to learn to tolerate imperfection.  I want you to be flexible.

…so that you can keep moving forward…so you don’t get stuck…so you can laugh, enjoy life, and grow.”

In that moment, worldly perfectionism will keep the friend from reaching out because the wrong word might get said.

Worldly perfection will steal, kill,and destroy moments with our loved ones…and, we are never promised tomorrow.

Christian perfectionism is concerned with mercy, wholeness, and relationship…all of which can get kind of messy and require tolerance for things being not “just right”.

Loss…grief…life…is rarely “just right”.

God, You don’t care about my perfection and excellence was not on Your mind when Your son was born in a dirty stable.  Neither does my husband expect it nor my friends or my kids.  I do.  In fact, the pursuit of worldly perfection is nothing more than a distraction from what is important…what matters in this world.

Wholeness….in relationship to others and with You.

Mercy…a merciful life with a full, gracious, open heart to others, You…and for myself.

I know you are still working on turning my train around.  It is a constant battle amidst and against the tides of our culture.  It may never be a done deal.  Thank you for Your patience with me.

I want to encourage you today to turn the honey jar of your way of being upside down.  Ask God to help you.  Stop your slave work to the hamster wheel demands of a wordly perfection that brings nothing but anxiety, depression, and regrets.

Work hard, sure.  I doubt I will stop doing that.  But, I promise your work will mean more and go further if you make room for wholeness and mercy in the context of relationships as your priority.

Christian perfection is just not the same as wordly perfection.

Any message that tells you otherwise is a lie.

I truly, passionately believe God is calling each of us and whispering the same message amidst and against the tide of our WORDLY perfection driven culture…

“I want you to learn to tolerate imperfection.  I want you to be flexible.

…so that you can keep moving forward…so you don’t get stuck…so you can laugh, enjoy life, and grow.”

“Slow down, you move too fast.
You got to make the morning last.
Just kicking down the cobble stones.
Looking for fun and feelin’ groovy.
Hello lamppost,
What cha knowing?
I’ve come to watch your flowers growing.
Ain’t cha got no rhymes for me?
Doot-in’ doo-doo,
Feelin’ groovy.

Got no deeds to do,
No promises to keep.
I’m dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep.
Let the morning time drop all its petals on me.
Life, I love you,
All is groovy.”

Simon and Garfunkel

Saturday Sampling March 3, 2012

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Here is what is quickly becoming one of my favorite things to do each week…finding some of my favorite blogs to share on the Saturday Sampling! 

Here is a sampling of some posts from this past week that inspired me, educated me, or made me think.

Do you think I missed anything significant?  I try to look for variety.  Can you help me with that?  Please post any of your recommendations below so we can all benefit!

Crushed

So many good posts on this one.  How to choose?  We are the body…He takes us, blesses us, breaks (crushes) us, and gives us…over and over again.  Check out the other posts that come out daily on this blog, too!

being right

I love how Mike uses the example of his son to get at a spiritual truth.

Freedom Friday…Real Stories-Lindsay

This is a story and it is a movement.  Read about story of restoration in one woman’s life while also catch up on a movement of authenticity, freedom, and faith a group of passionate ladies are starting in their hometown.

52 Godly Women

This is amazing!!  I believe this 13 year old girl with another young man at 52 godly men are starting another kind of movement…one of mentoring, transmitting faith, and stories.  Check out these two young people and their amazing work.  Read the stories that they have shared.  Get involved…maybe one of your children will want to do something similar!

New Flat, IKEA, and Community

Read about one of my favorite missionaries in one of my favorite cities.

Comfy Pants

The vulnerability here is humbling and moving.  Read the thoughts shared by one woman’s journey through one of the most unimaginable of tragedies a mother can face.

On celebrity pastors

Rachel’s blog is really more of a hub and a movement than simply a blog.  She has so many posts that bring out incredible dialogue among brothers and sisters in Christ.  This is one example. Check out her other stuff, too!

2011 Lesson #2: Don’t Carpe Diem

Parents, read this…and breath! I read this in line at a grocery store and had to calm myself down from alternately crying and laughing out loud in obnoxious, concerning kinds of ways.

In which I won’t tell you that you’re pretty

Sarah gets at the root of so many HEART and HEAD issues.  Self titled as “Emerging Mummy” her messages are for both parents.

Saturday Sampling

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I am doing my best to get around and read the other INCREDIBLE blogs that are out there.  People have asked me how, with everything I have going on, I manage to read blogs.  Blogs are usually fairly quick reads.  They are very easy to read in short bursts in my schedule where the downtime and my attention span has a small window .  In the school pick-up line.  While waiting for a client.  In the doctor’s office.  The few minutes before I go to sleep. You get the idea.

Anyway, here is a sampling of some posts from this past week that inspired me, educated me, or made me think.

I also acknowledge that I cannot read everything.  The amount of good material is overwhelming.

Do you think I missed anything significant?  I try to look for variety.  Can you help me with that?  Please post any of your recommendations below so we can all benefit!

FAITH, BIBLICAL, and THEOLOGICAL REFLECTIONS

Bible Contradictions

Join the movement!  So thankful for the work represented here.

“Oh my goodness!!!…I’m being followed!”

Surely goodness and mercy ARE following us!

Visible Families in the (In) Visible Kingdom

Children’s pastor Jonathan Simmons reminds us of just how important the family actually is.


PARENTING THOUGHTS…

#Scimom and me

This is an older one, but gives some thoughts on being a scientist and a mom and really on the all time important topics for mothers everywhere…balance and being ok with not being able to do it all.

5 tough-love principles for making friends with other moms

Want some real and practical advice for making friends?  Here is the tough love truth.

100 Ways to Encourage a New Mom

Some GREAT tips for all of us in caring for the new mothers in our life…whether their infant is their first or (ahem!) their fourth!

MOVEMENTS, NON-PROFITS, GROUPS AND PEOPLE MAKING A BIG DIFFERENCE….

Wandering Through Nothingness

Curious about the movement/non-profit called Girls on the Run?  Read about the heart of this international group here from its founder, Molly Barker.

Healer God

At age 22, Katie Davis is doing something amazing in Uganda.  You can read about her journey here and how you can get involved.

PERSONAL INTERESTS AND THOUGHTS ON RELATIONSHIPS OF ALL KINDS

The Online World: Way Scarier than the real one

My favorite phrase in Hope’s post is: “social networking modesty”.

Erring on the Side of People

My name means “hard worker”.  For someone who places a high value on relationships, I still need Kelly’s reminder often.

Extremely Long, Completely Scattered, and Containing Curse Words

I think that pretty much sums it up!  Honest.

My Black Son Can’t Take Your White Daughter To Prom

The perspective of this pastor’s wife stopped me cold.

HUMOR…

The Over Achievers Are At It Again

Warning: this post contains some bad language.  It was a reality check for me though!

Grace, No Shows, and Forgetting Kids

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***Parallel Processing

Parallel process is a clinical term used to describe the common occurrence in therapy when the therapist’s own experience is reflected in the client’s. It is when a client comes in grieving over the loss of a loved one while the therapist has only just experienced his or her own loss as well. It is a therapist helping a client through feelings of anger and hurt that the therapist has also just recently confronted.

But, here’s the thing: we are all in parallel process. Too often in life it goes unsaid.

Here is where I say it.***

Grace is the middle name of my middle daughter. That’s pretty much what grace is for me: the center of everything.

For some grace is a definition memorized: “unmerited favor”. For others it is something you say before you eat while holding hands with your family. And, for some it is a personality or behavior characteristic that means you don’t trip very often. You are either born with it or you aren’t.

For me, grace is a sigh of relief…when someone extends it to me or, better yet, when I extend it to myself, I can relax. I do not have to be perfect. I can mess up and still be loved. I can have a bad day, be weird, have a dirty house, stumble over my words…and at the end of it all…still get a warm hug and an invitation to come back any time.

Grace has boundaries. It is loving and kind and firm. When a person makes a mistake, grace doesn’t necessarily say: “Its ok. Don’t worry about it,” because that comment isn’t very honest.

Responding with “Don’t worry about it” isn’t necessarily grace. It doesn’t own up to the mistake…

…but it doesn’t own up to the forgiveness either.

Grace says: “I appreciate the apology. I forgive you. “

That comment, like grace, can also be difficult to receive.

Grace gives a hug or a smile that says: “I know that this mistake is not who you are. I don’t expect it to happen again. I will love you and treat you as if it will never happen again.”

It is my desire that grace permeate my relationships…including my various professional ones.

As with most offices in some sort of health care, from time to time a person will forget to show up for an appointment. Is this frustrating? Sure. I would be lying to say that it isn’t. Good clinicians have good boundaries. One of my boundaries is a fairly typical one in that I still charge for missed appointments without a 24-hour notice. Why? I have saved that time, usually an hour, just for that client. I am only in the office a certain number of hours a week with a waiting list of other clients who would have loved to come in that hour. With a 24 hour notice I can offer that time to someone…no problem. A no show is impossible to fill.

I am blessed in that this situation rarely happens. I have amazing clients who are very respectful about time.

I also have another policy that I often employ: Grace. Here is what usually happens. The previous client has left, I write my notes for that session, and then I wait. At about five minutes past time I begin to suspect that the person has forgotten. I wait a little longer and when it is fifteen minutes past, I give them a call. Usually they have completely forgotten and are so embarrassed. They begin to apologize profusely.

What happens next usually stops them in their tracks.

I acknowledge their apology. I do not brush it off in an attempt to get them to stop feeling bad. “I appreciate your apology. AND, I know that these things happen. As you know, I usually charge if a person misses an appointment, but I like to extend grace the first time. Would you like to re-schedule for another time?”

Sometimes I am working with hard working perfectionists and the idea that they have made a mistake, that it is acknowledged, and they will still receive grace startles them. They might find it refreshing. They might resent it. They might stiffen. However they respond, it will be something we address in the next session.

If it happens again, I charge. And, that is extending grace, too. It is a boundary that is gracious and says: “I am not going to be ok with you doing this because deep down I know you are not ok with it either.”

My former supervisor said it so well: “Don’t forget. Scheduling and payment are therapy issues, too.”

Here is the thing about grace…you cannot give it to others in a healthy, meaningful way, unless you are able to receive it and allow it for yourself.

Giving grace to clients and helping them give grace to themselves has taught me so much about allowing God’s grace for me. I see people who are hard on others because they are so hard on themselves.

I carpool pick up with a friend and family member whose children attend the same elementary school. It was the last day of school and I was helping with the “end of the year” party. It was my day to take home my daughter and her cousin.

I walked into the party and said to another mom and friend: “I can’t forget to get Eloise’s cousin when we leave today.”

Guess what?

You guessed it.

Read on for the cringe worthy details.

I picked up all of the party material and told my daughter to gather her things. I told her teacher goodbye, which was a little emotional for us because this teacher had been very special to Eloise and to me. She had been MY first grade teacher, too. I was in her first first grade class and Eloise was in her last first grade class. She was retiring.

As I left the building I knew I was forgetting something. I could not figure out what it was.

Several minutes later I was home and got a phone call. As I saw the school’s number come up on my phone I remembered what, or rather WHOM, I had forgotten.

In a panic, I pushed all three of my kids, some half dressed, into the van and we quickly drove back to school to pick up a sweet little boy. On the way his mom called me.

Now, tell me how YOU would feel telling a mom that you had forgotten their child at school and that he was one of the very last children there waiting in the office wondering where his ride was?

I was mortified.

I took my friend’s son home and when he got out of the van, just like my clients, I started to apologize profusely. I was so embarrassed.

I don’t remember what the mother said to me. I was in such a state of humiliation. I do know that she forgave me.

I also know that I had to own up to the fact that I messed up. I goofed.

I drove home so very painful of that reality.

I am an imperfect human being.

It’s not that I just LIKE grace and think it is a nice thing to have around and it makes life a little neater and bearable.

I NEED grace. I NEED forgiveness.

I am desperate for it.

Sometimes I have to be ok saying: “I’m sorry. I messed up”

That is tough. Saying it that forthright.

No excuses.

No qualifications.

No passing the blame.

And, sometimes I have to be ok with the other person being not ok with me for a little while until everything gets settled and some time has passed.

That is grace, too…giving them space to not be ok for a while.

That part is super tough.

It is these times, while we are waiting on the grace and forgiveness of others, that we have to rely on the grace and forgiveness of our God. We have to be able to accept it and make room for it for ourselves.

Now, someone please tell me they have forgotten a kid, too!

London and Sally

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My mother spent the better part of her adolescence in London where she attended an all girls’ school called Rosa Bassett.

On the first day of school each student was to call her name out loud with their given number.  My mother’s number was in the “30’s”, which was a dead give away of her American accent.

Apparently, there were some snickers and from that point on my mother’s speech became unmistakably British.

That is funny for me to think about.  My mother speaking with an English accent.

Anyway, one thing I know: she loved her accent and she loved that school.

My young mother, with her beautiful auburn hair, fair skin, and blue eyes, along with her best friend, Sally Wilson, would run around London, riding Double Decker buses and getting tastes of hard cider at sleepovers because her parents were none the wiser, and neither was she.  Before she had a daughter who played tennis, my mother and Sally would stand outside of Wimbledon, waiting for people to hand out their used tickets to waiting children.

My mother, who never really played tennis, has been to Wimbledon.

That makes me smile, too.

If you sat down and had coffee with my mother and asked her about her life I believe she would probably tell you that those years in London were some of the best of her life.

I believe she would tell you that because that is what she has told me.

And, every time I hear about London…almost every time I hear about those years…I hear about Sally.

Then, without warning, my mother’s father was moved, transferred, reassigned.  The way I have heard my mother tell about this move from London, it was like a ripping.  Her heart, her friendship, her family.  Ripped away.  I think I can imagine a 15 year-old girl feeling this way, especially a quiet fifteen year old who had built her life in this great big world place called London with freedom, double decker buses, and a best friend named Sally.

Friendships are taken for granted by children.  They are assumed.  You meet. You say: “Do you want to be friends?” and you skip off together…doing whatever…it really doesn’t matter.

Friendships come naturally for young children.  You don’t really think about it.  You just become friends!

And, if you are like my very socially talented middle child, you have parents who actually time how many seconds it will take you to make a friend at the playground.  At the indoor play area.  At church.  It is amazing.  I am in awe of her.

I had a conversation with one of my sister-in-laws recently.  She is a gifted teacher and is passionate about the grade that she teaches, fourth grade.  However, she admits, it is a hard, hard year.  It is the year that children discover the have’s and the have not’s.

You come in holding hands, still skipping together…it really doesn’t matter doing what.  Then you do the difficult thing of learning your “place”.

Fifth grade, she says, can actually be easier because you have learned the place. The struggle is over.  But, fourth grade…there is still so much struggling.

Parents are big influences on the friendships of children.  When starting my work with a child and his or her family and doing the initial work of developing a treatment plan with interventions, I will often talk to parents about how they are parenting the child socially.  I am curious…how is the child/teenager involved?  Where do they learn to relate to other children and adults?  Do they attend a faith community? Are they active in athletics or music?

From time to time I will get a blank look from a parent.  Do I think they should get their children involved in things like that?

Well, yes.  I am not out to make a star athlete out of anyone, but I am just following research.  Research indicates that involvement in things like a faith community, athletics, extra-curricular activities of some sort is a good thing for children and teenagers.

There are a variety of reasons why, but here are some of them.  In these places relationship and social skills are developed which breeds confidence.  Activity, particularly physical activity, helps prevent over thinking, which is a contributing factor in depression and anxiety.  When the physical body is engaged, the mind is not doing the hamster wheel-spinning thing that so many teenagers, especially girls, tend to do.

So, we go through and start brainstorming different option for little Mary to try and somewhere in that conversation I detect some anxiety in the parents.

What would it be like for you to take your daughter to something like soccer practice or girl scouts, I ask.  Incredibly intimidating, they admit.  What do you think is going on with that?  Well, I never played sports or was a part of anything like this.  I was never athletic.  I was never good with friends.  I was never…

The obstacle in getting little Mary opened up to the big world out there, the obstacle to injecting some much needed confidence into little Mary…

…is actually the incredible amount of insecurity and anxiety in mom and dad.

Friendships…relationships…move the world around.  Never underestimate the power of a relationship or how you relate to a person.

Mary and Elizabeth were close…and their sons were close.   One paved the way for the other.

Sarah and Hagar were enemies and so were their sons…and their sons’ sons, and their sons’ sons…

I have worked with these clients and wondered about this insecurity, understanding it out of imagination and empathy, but thinking that I really could not relate to it.  I have always been outgoing, ready to try new things.

But wait.

In the past several months I have observed some striking behavior in myself.  Several people have reached out to me.  Do you want to run?  Do you want to go eat lunch?  And I have watched myself get nervous.  I have watched myself hem and haw, making excuses and backing away.  I have been rather shocked by it actually, but I can read the thoughts in my head.

If I go running with you, you might realize that I can’t run that fast.  If I go eat lunch with you, you might realize that I am better at writing, teaching, and working with clients than I really am at just hanging out and being a friend.

Friendships, it seems, can actually be harder in adulthood.

Of course there are the practical reasons we fall back on…the kids and work and life to work around to make friendships happen…but, there seems to be more than that.

We know the have’s and the have not’s.

We want to hold hands and just be together and skip and do whatever, but too much understanding has put people in boxes and places.

But, here is what I tell my clients and what I really tell myself, too.  Yes, friendships, relationships, taking your kid to soccer…it is all intimidating and hard and sometimes way more complicated than it should be.

But, you do it.  You acknowledge that it is hard.  You also acknowledge that it is pretty hard for everyone from time to time even if they seem to have a big smile and a million Facebook friends.

And, those people you see talking to each other? They don’t actually know each other super well.  They just met.  There is no real “in” group.

Yes, there was an “in group” in fourth grade and maybe all the way through college, but you know what?  A lot of those groups don’t exist anymore except for in people’s heads.

You are not excluded.  And, every time you take your child to soccer practice or every time you show up for a bible study or a book club or a musical performance, you are carving out relational space for you, for your children, for your family.

In our money driven society, let’s try this language: you are building social capital…investing in a relational future for yourself and for your children.

You are carving out a Sally and a London experience and you don’t ever have to be ripped away because unlike my mother at that age, you are not a child anymore.

Do you hear me?  I so wish I could look you in the eyes.

You are an adult.

You are not in fourth grade anymore being sized up.

You are you.

And, that is beautiful and someone out there will be so blessed to build a relationship with YOU.

Be you, take your kid to girl scouts or attend a faith community and watch the world unfold gently, sweetly with new life

…or perhaps burst forth with juicy goodness

…around the friendships you forge and create and love and grow.

Because I think London had way more to do with Sally for my mother than it ever had to do with it being LONDON.

Growing Up With You

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The James Taylor Concert

The James Taylor Concert

Today on my hour and a half drive back from the University of Tennessee in Knoxville, I was traveling through the radio stations when I heard a James Taylor song. I paused…and then transported momentarily to his concert we attended about six years ago.

Do you remember that summer? I really doubt it, but you seem to enjoy proving me wrong (and so often do) so I’d better ask rather than assume.

We had just returned from our first year in Prague and were visiting my mom in Iowa. We had our first deep fried twinkies. Do you remember that? You ate yours while sitting on Daddy’s shoulders. You were so high up there. I remember worrying that I had not put enough sunscreen on you.

Together that day we knocked off a “bucket list” item by attending the Iowa State fair…and eating a deep friend twinkie.

However, what I remember most from that day is seeing James Taylor on stage…and us …dancing in the back of the outdoor pavilion…your hair all sweaty and curled up in ringlets framing your little face.

We were all dancing…you, not quite three…Mimi, and me. Daddy held your sister. It was so hot. You were so happy.

Do you remember that night, Eloise?

I had you in the middle of a semester in graduate school. Now, I KNOW you don’t remember that so don’t even try to argue with me.

I don’t really recommend doing that. I was young, naïve, and thought I could manage about anything. I didn’t realize I would have to manage everything…without sleep.

But, we made it and I look back on those California years as some of our best. I have such sweet memories of when I would bring you to class with me…sitting you in the bouncer while I listened to lectures. Students would help hold you while I took exams. Other days your uncle Aaron would stay with you while I went to class and Daddy worked.

I wasn’t terribly young when I had you…26. I wasn’t 18, but I wasn’t 40 either.

However, I spend time in academic circles where first children are had in your mid-thirties…not your mid-twenties. So, while in some contexts I was not a very young mother, I feel like I was, in many ways, a baby.

I didn’t wait for school to be over to have you.

I was a very normal, anxious new mother. I was so worried that my imperfections…and there were many…would get in the way of what you deserved. Somehow the fact that you were to be a girl intensified these insecurities. I so wanted to get it right!

It did not help matters that I was studying all of the things that can go WRONG in a family and in a child’s life.

I still remember a dear friend asking me: “Emily, what if God chose YOUR imperfections just for Eloise?”

I could not wrap my mind around this idea. I wanted the best for you. I did not like the idea that I still had growing to do while I was already becoming a mother, nor did I like the idea that God was in that plan somehow.

I wanted you to have a mother who had arrived…who had it all together. I was painfully aware of how far off the mark I was.

Here’s the surprising twist in the story I am just now getting…what I have grown to appreciate…to love…is knowing how much growing I DID have to do.

How much growing I had to do WITH you.

We grew up together…and, I’m still growing up with you.

While I was helping you learn to sleep, I learned how much I needed it, too.

When I was making sure you got your sunshine and play time, I realized how much I needed to play, too.

While you were learning to trust me, I was learning to trust God.

Growing up together, we’ve shared a lot of firsts, you and me, Eloise…firsts that go beyond deep fried twinkies.

No, I didn’t wait on you in order to finish up my life. Nor, did I put you on hold to tie up any loose ends in my goals or dreams, either.

I have been insecure about that in the past, but not so much anymore.

Life just doesn’t stop for motherhood and motherhood really doesn’t stop life…no matter what the media or people without children tell you.

No matter what motherhood looks like…for any one woman…life changes…but, does not stop when we get fitted with motherhood as a new identity.

You just keep going…growing up together. Never in history has life really stopped for mothers. That is another lie that the media portrays to make you feel guilty when the inevitable happens…life happens. And, you just keep going…baby girl at your side.

So, I found out I am having another girl…our fourth, and probably last, baby. I felt her move today for the first time when I was in class for my doctoral program. I immediately remembered another baby I carried in and out of the womb to school.

I remembered and I smiled. This time, I am not afraid for my little girl…for Hillary. I’m not so unsure or insecure. And, that, Eloise, has mostly to do with you. You are a testimony to me. Your strength, your wisdom, your perseverance…who you are…despite me…you are testimony of God’s faithfulness in the midst of our humanity.

We do not have to be perfect parents.

Perhaps my friend was right. Maybe God DID choose MY imperfections just for you, sweet girl.

We are growing up together, you and me. And, somewhere in that, you are just fine. You have and continue to teach me so much…mostly about grace.

So, when they, like they did in my other graduate programs, talk about ideals and standards for parenting and mothering and all sorts of things that can make any mother…especially a new mother…anxious and insecure…I’ll just feel Hillary kick and think of you. I’ll remember that we haven’t followed all of the rules, all of the ideals, all of the standards. I didn’t wait until I had it together. I didn’t put off life, nor did I put off motherhood. Yet, here you are. Wise, kind, strong, intuitive, beautiful.

I chose, without knowing I was choosing, to take you along the life journey…to do a lot of the growing up with you.

Like at that James Taylor concert, I’ve chosen to dance WITH you.

I like to think that maybe we are both better off for it.

Not As Orphans

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Here is one of my favorite definitions of an “adult”:

“An adult is his or her own mother or father.”

You can find this thought from a few different sources, but here is the gist of the idea.

Hopefully, when you are little child you have a “good enough parent” who does things like:

Ensures that you eat your vegetables.

Tells you that it is bedtime…and firmly, lovingly enforces it.

Says to you…go outside…get some sunshine!

Schedules and takes you to your doctor and dentist appointments.

Makes sure you are part of some faith community.

Helps you make decisions about getting involved in extracurricular activities…and helps you follow through appropriately.

Schedules “play dates” when you are young or some other way to learn social skills.

Help you learn to make priorities with your time by making sure you get your homework done and assigning some chores.

Sits down with you when you are sad, angry, or happy…and listen.

 

These are pretty much basic aspects of parenting.  I am sure you could come up with other items for the list.

So, the idea of being “your own mom or dad” is that as an adult we do these things for ourselves.

No longer do mom and dad tell you to eat your vegetables.

You do.

No longer do mom and dad tell you it is bedtime.

You do.

No longer do mom and dad say to you…go outside…get some sunshine!

You do.

No longer do mom and dad schedule and take you to your appointments.

You do.

No longer do mom and dad make sure are part of some faith community.

You do.

No longer do mom and dad help you make decisions about getting involved in        extracurricular activities…and help you follow through appropriately.

You do.

No longer do mom and dad help you develop friendships and build relationships.

You do.

No longer do mom and dad help you learn to make priorities with your time by making sure you got your work done and paying attention to housework.

You do.

No longer do mom and dad sit down and make room for when you when you are sad, angry, or happy.

You do.

 

You get the idea.

At least, that is the hope for every healthy adult.

I am guessing you can look down that list and whether it is putting yourself to bed, getting sunshine, or giving yourself room to be sad or angry, you can find some area in which you don’t exactly “parent” yourself incredibly well…perhaps not even “good enough”.

We learn to parent ourselves from our own parents and other influential adults in our lives.  However, NONE of us had perfect parents.  NONE of us.  Neither did we grow up in perfect communities.

So, whether they are habits we picked up through life or behaviors we picked up from adults in our lives, we all have areas in which we need to grow…areas in which we need to better parents ourselves

Too often we forget this role of being an adult.  We are still waiting for someone else to put us to bed, to schedule and take us to appointments, to tell us it is ok to cry.

We live more as a survivor rather than a thriver…letting life live us rather than us living life.  We run around just making it and fail to realize that the only person who can make any of the changes to make our life more manageable…

Is us.

We complain about how much we HAVE to do.

We forget that like a loving and firm mom or dad we need to tell ourselves: “stop”.   You don’t HAVE to do anything.  Go outside and get some sunshine.

Of course, we all need help and none of us can make it on our own, but when it gets really dangerous is when we find someone who WILL keep doing it…when we find a friend or spouse who is only too happy to have the identity as our caretaker…our savior…tell us it is time to go to bed…time to schedule our dental appointments…or does it for us!

And, guess what.  Your kids are watching you.  They are learning how to be an “adult” from you and not just by what you tell them.  They are learning how to say “no”, how to say “yes”, how to slow down, how to work hard, how to put a hold on things to go outside and take a deep breath.

Or, they are learning how to live in constant chaos, how to go, go, go without ever stopping…how to wait and let someone else do it for them….for someone else to say “stop”.

Some people come from homes where the parenting did not even come close to “good enough”.  There was abuse and all kinds of neglect.

Whether our parents were “good enough”, absent, or abusive…it can seem overwhelming to think of adulthood in this way.

It can also be empowering.

We CAN parent ourselves.

None of us had perfect parents on earth, but we all have a perfect heavenly Parent.  He CAN help us pick up where our earthly parents left off.

Jesus said in John 14:18: “I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you.”

In our frailties and faults, the Holy Spirit gathers (Matthew 23:37) and guides.  He works on us as a new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17).

He does not leave us as orphans.

The Holy Spirit picks up where our parents left off and helps us learn to parent ourselves as empowered, responsible adults who are now parents to our own children…even as He parents us.

I have my areas I need to grow in…areas I need to parent myself better…areas I still probably wait for someone else to step in.  I am working on this.  In fact, I am telling myself right now: “It is bedtime, Emily.”  :-)

We all have areas in which we need to better parents ourselves. What are yours?