Our family of six just returned from a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Hawaii. Eight days with no responsibilities, no projects, no deadlines or work. Hour upon hour of leisure time. Our only appointment was the nightly sunset, which we never missed. Our hardest decision: Should we spend the day snorkeling with exotic fish, swimming with giant sea turtles, or taking a nap? And the best part for a mother who's about to send her firstborn child across the country was that all six of us were together, soaking up every minute of familiness. Ah, the good life.
Then we came home. After making that brutal all-night flight where you're up for 26 straight hours, we arrived home to a plumbing crisis. The kids called the thing that happened in our basement a poo geyser. In order to maintain the dignity of this blog, I will refer to it as an eruption of raw sewage. (Really, though, their term is much more descriptive). Whatever you call it, it was nasty. And did I mention we'd been up for 26 hours and traveling for 12? The sewage was flowing; the clear thinking and effective communication were not.
Some days you get to swim with sea turtles. Some days you get to wade through raw sewage in your basement.* What a metaphor for life.
One day you're giving your kids a rich cultural experience and shaved ice, and the next your 11-year-old is going to the bathroom at 4:30 in the morning in the dog run because she's afraid to flush.
This week, I have a clear demonstration of the hills and valleys of life. Both are doing their good work in me. Trying to be thankful for both. Without the valleys, I'm not sure the hills would be so sweet.
*I personally did not have to wade through any sewage. The men in our family soldiered through it nobly, and with only minor gagging.
Monday, July 30, 2018
Monday, July 16, 2018
Loving the Weird
You wake up one day in the middle of your life, and everyone else starts to look weird. In the first place, they're all really young. Their skin is covered with what they call art but what looks to you like weird, indiscriminate lines and swirls that all look the same on everyone. Their hair is extreme, and a lot of them have purposefully put large holes in their ears and noses. Their clothes don't seem to be doing the job they were intended to do. Sometimes these people are filling their cars with inordinate amounts of smoke. Vaping? I still don't quite get it.
You see these people and you begin to wonder, What has become of us?
It's happened for generations. It's the reason why the words "generation gap" exist. It's just that now I find myself on the other side of the gap, and my natural instinct is to look down on those standing across that great chasm. The judgment comes so quickly. I barely notice it sneaking up on me. It seems to run roughshod over all the biblical truth I know at my core: Love one another. Be kind and compassionate. Do not judge lest you be judged.
Apparently this phenomenon is not reserved only for the middle-aged. My kids struggle with it too. They've grown up in quite the homogeneous world, despite our two-year cross-cultural adventure living in our car repair shop. (In that part of town you see the truly weird, like a prostitute walking down the street with a pig on a leash; but alas, the kids may have been a bit young to be shaped by it.) For the majority of their lives, they've gone to school, church, band concerts, and soccer practice with people who pretty much look just like them.
And then this summer my oldest daughter got a job. She works at a hotel/adventure park staffed primarily by older teens and 20-somethings. Some of them look like her, but some do not. And even those who look like her didn't grow up much like she did. They swear. A lot. They take smoke breaks. They struggle with big issues that she hasn't had to deal with. They're unfamiliar with stability. And, here's the thing: They're really, really nice.
This discovery, that outside of high school you can appreciate and enjoy people who are completely different from you, has changed my girl. In just a month, I've seen her open up more. She's more comfortable with herself and with other people. She can make chitchat with people she has nothing in common with. And that age-old phrase we've all said a hundred times but rarely apply--"Don't judge a book by its cover--is becoming real to her.
Do you know how contagious this is? When I see it in her, I want it in me! So I've found myself at stop lights, in Walmart, at the gym looking at the "weird" people and saying to myself, "I love them." I'm not sure at this point how much I actually mean it, but making that my go-to internal dialogue is a step in the right direction.
I do love them in theory. I love that they are human beings created in the image of God, that they each have their own story, that they're all journeying through this hard life with enough strength to get up and buy cereal, work out, or take their kids to the movies. Loving them in theory is a big first step toward where I want to be, loving them in practice.
You see these people and you begin to wonder, What has become of us?
It's happened for generations. It's the reason why the words "generation gap" exist. It's just that now I find myself on the other side of the gap, and my natural instinct is to look down on those standing across that great chasm. The judgment comes so quickly. I barely notice it sneaking up on me. It seems to run roughshod over all the biblical truth I know at my core: Love one another. Be kind and compassionate. Do not judge lest you be judged.
Apparently this phenomenon is not reserved only for the middle-aged. My kids struggle with it too. They've grown up in quite the homogeneous world, despite our two-year cross-cultural adventure living in our car repair shop. (In that part of town you see the truly weird, like a prostitute walking down the street with a pig on a leash; but alas, the kids may have been a bit young to be shaped by it.) For the majority of their lives, they've gone to school, church, band concerts, and soccer practice with people who pretty much look just like them.
And then this summer my oldest daughter got a job. She works at a hotel/adventure park staffed primarily by older teens and 20-somethings. Some of them look like her, but some do not. And even those who look like her didn't grow up much like she did. They swear. A lot. They take smoke breaks. They struggle with big issues that she hasn't had to deal with. They're unfamiliar with stability. And, here's the thing: They're really, really nice.
This discovery, that outside of high school you can appreciate and enjoy people who are completely different from you, has changed my girl. In just a month, I've seen her open up more. She's more comfortable with herself and with other people. She can make chitchat with people she has nothing in common with. And that age-old phrase we've all said a hundred times but rarely apply--"Don't judge a book by its cover--is becoming real to her.
Do you know how contagious this is? When I see it in her, I want it in me! So I've found myself at stop lights, in Walmart, at the gym looking at the "weird" people and saying to myself, "I love them." I'm not sure at this point how much I actually mean it, but making that my go-to internal dialogue is a step in the right direction.
I do love them in theory. I love that they are human beings created in the image of God, that they each have their own story, that they're all journeying through this hard life with enough strength to get up and buy cereal, work out, or take their kids to the movies. Loving them in theory is a big first step toward where I want to be, loving them in practice.
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