Tag Archives: The Truth Hurts

The Maze of Ministry

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Growing up a PK (preacher’s kid) I had a front row seat to all kinds of things done in the name of “ministry.”

I saw religion, spirituality, atheism, agnosticism. I saw searching. I saw people who were “worshipers of satan” and those who claimed to be their own god. I was never allowed to be in the presence of anyone who was supposedly possessed by demons. Though my dad would get calls at all hours for these types of things.

He only talked about it once. Said that it was the most frightening thing he has ever witnessed and hoped that he would never have to witness it again. It was a girl. A teenager. She was speaking in different voices and climbing the walls. Weird, huh?!

This can be very confusing for anyone, but especially a child.
I found that the easiest and most convenient path to take was to adopt the God of my parents understanding.

The only problem was that they had very different views of who God was and how He sees us, His children.

Flashback Time

During the Summer, my dad would meticulously pack up the Buick and we would all pile in and head off to where he was speaking for the week.

This usually entailed at least a 5-10 hour drive.

I am the youngest of 3 girls. We would all three be in the back seat with our one thing that we were allowed to bring along to entertain ourselves.

Keep in mind that these were the days of 55 mph speed limits on the highway.

I have always been prone to motion sickness. My mother would say multiple times during a road trip, “Focus on the center yellow line and you’ll be fine.”

This would be right about the time that my mouth would begin to water and the imaginary knot grew bigger and more uncomfortable in my throat. You know the feeling…right before you lose it.

“Oh God, please don’t let me vomit in this car!”

I could only imagine how awful the next few hours would be with the smell on the upholstery.

I stared at that yellow center line for more miles that I could count.

Though it sounds rather horrific, I loved those Summer travels. Even though it meant we were not with our friends, I met knew friends and before you knew it, we were running up and down the seemingly endless isles of a gigantic auditorium.

It was always great to come home too.

I can close my eyes, even now, and remember walking into our house on a hot summer day in the south. The turn of the key in the lock and stepping over the thresh hold. The air had been off for days, making it just bearable to be inside while waiting for dad to turn on the AC.

Upon the first breath through my nose, I knew I was home. The smell was familiar and comfortable. The sun streamed through the sliding glass doors, across the carpet and onto the tall stools at the kitchen counter where we ate breakfast every morning.

I remember as if it was yesterday, seeing the dust stir in the sunlight. I turned the corner, walked down the hall to my room and felt at ease. Collapsing on my bed and looking up at the popcorn ceiling, life was good. I didn’t know any different.

And then it broke. Never to be put back the same way again.
After all, with so much at stake, how could it be?

(This is where I will place the bookmark…for now. Let’s pick up where we left off in the story, tomorrow.)

Why Didn’t Anyone Tell Me?!

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© Joy Cannis and Even A Girl Like Me, 2012.

(Guys, ya may wanna skip this one)

I was talking to a friend recently who just had a baby. Several times throughout our conversation she exclaimed, “Why doesn’t anyone tell you these things?!”

I had to agree with her. We really do go into this whole parenting thing completely ignorant of what is actually happening to us. The transformation, so to speak, is subtle. One day you are in the bathroom and find it odd that no one has followed in behind you or that you don’t have a baby sitting on your lap.

For me, if someone had told me with all certainty, what the journey of being a mother would look like, I wouldn’t have believed I was capable of such and would have prevented pregnancy at all cost.

Just as He does in times of uncertainty, the good Lord gives us the strength we need, when we need it. He always arrives right on time. His time, that is. It does not always coincide with our time.

So for those of you who have yet to take the plunge into parenthood (and for those of us who have), I have compiled a list of “The things no one tells you, but you wish you knew, until you know, then you wish you didn’t know”

(drum roll please)

Pregnancy…

When you are pregnant, your body no longer belongs to you. You are now a human incubator. Instead of looking at your face, people will look directly at your belly while talking to you. (This doesn’t change after baby comes either. People now want to see baby more than they want to see you. It’s okay. Just eat your slice of humble pie and move on.)

There will be times when you feel like the Thanksgiving turkey (especially after your belly button pops out!) with family assessing and taking wagers even, on when the baby will be born. Or as one family member put it, “When the baby’s done.”

Your stomach will stretch beyond recognition and you will begin talking to it.

Strangers will touch your belly as if they’ve received an invitation.

Those support hose that you made fun of your mother for wearing, will become your best friend. Spanx now makes ‘em with room for your belly. (You can thank me later for that little gem of information.)

You will feel physically sick at the mention of something that you used to crave and instead dream of things like, cheddar cheese and peanut butter with a side of dill pickles accompanied by a glass of chocolate milk (my personal favorite).

Your body temp will seem to rise by about 120 degrees.

If you didn’t snore before, you will now.

You will become closely acquainted with the clothes that have the best elasticity and how many colors your favorite drawstring pants come in.

You are forced to be aware of everything that crosses your lips. Artificial sweetner? Not anymore. Deli meat? Not unless it’s heated. Sushi? Forget about it. (Oh and this gets even more strict if you decide to breastfeed).

At the first sign of a full bladder, find the closest restroom. You’re just going to have to trust me on this. A cough or sneeze could be hazardous.

Go see lot’s of movies. You will not have this opportunity often after the baby comes.

Oh, and that thing that happens to your chest…well, that’s a conversation to be had in person as there are just too many variables with that subject.

Parenthood…

For a mother, not all, but many, from the moment conception is confirmed, we fall in love. As our bellies protrude and we get kicked in the ribs, we begin to picture what the baby will look like and the kind of personality they will have. We start making big plans.

Nothing will prepare you for what happens next.

From this point on, we are forever changed. We can’t go back and make it the way it was before. Our new normal will be all of the stages of our child’s life.

Having a child is like watching your heart walk around outside of your body. You are no longer a single being. Depending on how many children you have, through adoption, birth, or loss through physical death, that is how many pieces of your heart are out there. And don’t worry, there is always plenty of a mother’s heart for all of her babies.

If someone tells you that having a baby will save your relationship, they are wrong. As wonderful as it is, it is equally as difficult and demanding in ways that you have no prior experience.

Just as your love expands and multiplies at a rate which you never thought possible, so you are stretched in ways that you never thought extendable.

The days are filled with beauty and firsts. Just as they are interrupted by pain and uncertainty.

I became more conscious of absolutely everything around me. It was as if with my children came the ability to see the things I couldn’t see before. Mortality became a reality. Things that seemed mundane were now cherished traditions. Families looked different, bad or good! Holidays took on new meaning (as did showers and brushing my teeth on a regular basis).

Nothing that I say here and nothing that the one closest to you can say, will prepare you for what it is like to have a child. It just can’t.

Here’s why…because everyone is different.

As I listened to my friend talk about all of the challenges of those first few weeks with a newborn, I thought to myself, “I’m past that. I’m a veteran. It does get easier and there are more hours of sleep in the future. I can speak into this out of experience and truth. I think I’m officially a grown-up!”

I smiled, put my hand on her hand and said, “I promise, it’s gets easier. Enjoy these moments. They are fleeting. When you come to the end of your precious one’s first year you will think to yourself, ‘It’s all a blur! Where did the time go?!’ And it does not slow down from there. So try, as difficult as it is when you’re going on a couple of hours sleep and multiple days without having showered, to enjoy these sacred moments. Children remember moments, not days or weeks or even years. Specific moments. And these moments are what make up our memories.”

Your turn! What surprised you most about becoming a parent or watching your friends take the plunge into parenthood. Come on…don’t be shy…we’re all friends here.

What was your name again?!

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(This post is dedicated to my beautiful friend who is drowning in a sea of self-pity, completely blind to her incredible worth while attempting to numb the pain of reality through addiction. May God save you from yourself, friend. I love you!)

Has this ever happened to you?

Not just to those of you who woke up this morning beside someone who’s name you didn’t know or couldn’t remember, so you slid out from under the covers relieved to find that you were still wearing the clothes from last night. Luckily you were able to slip out undetected and make the walk of shame home or back to your last stop to pick up your car. (For those of you who are reading this thinking, it’s Tuesday morning! Who does that on a Monday night?! Congratulations! You are not a hopeless alcoholic or drug addict.)

I’m also talking to those who forget introductions right after they happen (I know this happens because I do it). Trying with all your might to remember someone you just met who holds the future of your career in their hands. Or someone you were supposed to connect with about a job interview in this bad economy where one cannot take any referrals for granted.

I have heard that when being introduced to someone, if you will repeat their name 3 times in your head, you are sure to remember it. Tried it. Didn’t work. Maybe I’ve killed to many braincells?

How about this one…have you ever forgotten your own name? Sounds crazy, right?

Well, call me crazy, there was a time when I forgot my own name.

Not in the literal sense, mind you, in a far more devastating way. 

It may be better said that I denied my name, ignoring who I was and falling prey to what I had become, which I thought at the time, defined me.


Joy by definition means;

a : the emotion evoked by well-being, success, or good fortune or by the prospect of possessing what one desires : delight b : the expression or exhibition of such emotion : gaiety
2 : a state of happiness or felicity : bliss
3 : a source or cause of delight
 Just look how many different fun and happy ways the word can be written. Google it! You will not find it written in any other way than that which is uplifting and…happy.
There was a time in my life when I was anything but one of these definitions. It’s a lot of pressure to walk around with a name that means happiness, delight, well-being. I mean seriously. How could my mother have been so mean when deciding what to call me?! Knowing that every time I introduced myself to someone they would expect me to be happy ALL the time. Right? I mean, how can you walk around angry, sad or expressing any negative emotion whatsoever when your name is something that means happiness?! (This is assuming of course that she thought through all of the scenario’s that I would be in for the rest of my life)

My mom has said that she almost named me Ginger with a J (Jinger). My dad didn’t like the name, thank the Lord! He said that no one would spell it right and I would forever be known as Ginger with a J. So when I look at it that way, I am incredibly grateful. (No offense to any of you Gingers with a J!)
I had a roommate at the peak of my self destructive behavior who called me out on my bs. When she had finally had enough of my lying, stealing, destructive behavior, she told me that I had until the end of the month to move out. I was so angry with her.
She didn’t ask that I pay her back the money she had given me to pay the utility, phone or water bill, after I spent it on drugs (more than once) or the cash that I freely claimed as my own if it was laying out anywhere. She simply asked me to leave.

She later told me (when I was capable of listening) that she hoped she was saving my life, because instead of a Joy, I had become a Pain. Instead of being a source of light and hope, I evoked hopelessness. (Ouch!)

Pain by definition means;
1: punishment
2 a : usu. localized physical suffering associated with bodily disorder (as a disease or an injury); also : a basic bodily sensation induced by a noxious stimulus, received by naked nerve endings, characterized by physical discomfort (as pricking, throbbing, or aching), and typically leading to evasive action b : acute mental or emotional distress or suffering : grief
3 plural : the throes of childbirth
4 plural : trouble, care, or effort taken to accomplish something <was at pains to reassure us>
5 : one that irks or annoys or is otherwise troublesome —often used in such phrases as pain in the neck 
She was right! I am beyond grateful that she had the courage to stand up to me and say she wasn’t going to stand by and watch me self destruct. I am so thankful that she did not, instead, enable me to continue down the path I was on. That, my friends, is real love. It’s difficult, honest and unconditional.
It has taken over a decade, but I am coming back into my name. Sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly (that would be me…the sometimes slowly part!).
Instead of my path of destruction that looked similar to this…

I now do a lot more of this…

 

Today, I love my name. Don’t get me wrong, I can fall into that same old pattern of thinking. The difference being that I now have the tools to snap out of it before I am on a full blown trip of my big ugly ego.

It’s a daily, sometimes hourly, surrender. Turning it over to the One who knows me best. Giving up control and admitting that when it comes to managing my own life, I suck at it. Asking for Divine help. Forget this earthly garble. I want something with an eternal guarantee!  

So today, I am owning my name. FINALLY, at 35 years old. Well, someone congratulate me!

If you are like I was, broken and without hope, but there is no one there to speak truth into your heart, I beg you to reach out to someone at one of the resources I am listing below. Click on the name and it will take you directly to the website. As long as you are breathing, there is still hope.

To Write Love on Her Arms

People of the Second Chance

Central Christian Church: Las Vegas

Bless ‘er heart

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Ah, the South… there is no other place like it.

We have beautiful skies, changing seasons that turn the trees into shedding masterpieces and roots that go as deep as their branches grow high.

There’s a church on every corner and if you go far enough South, a porch on every house.

For those of us from the South (at times affectionately referred to as the ‘Bible Belt’) or who have been here for any length of time, the phrase “Bless ‘er heart” is all too familiar.

Southern women have been saying it since the beginning of time.

There is no discriminating against genders. It’s just that “Bless ‘er heart” is used more often than “Bless ‘is heart” or “their heart” for that matter. Young ladies get called out far more than boys because it is assumed that boys will act out for the simple fact that they are, well, boys.

Girls, however, are held to a far higher standard. They must always give the appearance of a sweet, innocent young lady. This means never drinking directly from a bottle, always having a fresh coat of lipstick and never being caught in public with nail polish that’s chipping or messy hair.

I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself while counting how many times my mom said this phrase while in a conversation about a gal in Alabama who had lost her way. Meaning, she was sleeping around, drinking too much, cussing like a sailor and seemingly enjoying it.

Conversations like these with judgmental Southern “Ladies” used to evoke anger. I would feel it rise up from the pit of my gut to the top of my throat.

Now, well, now, it’s nostalgic.

Immediately I am taken back to a time when I would spend Summers at my grandmother’s house in the deep South. We would sit on the front porch shellin’ peas. Well, I would be shellin’ peas while she sat fanning her face and saying, “This is the hottest Summer I can remember.” She said that every year and now my dad says it.

I called my grandmother “Mamaw”. She was not a “bless ‘er heart” kind of woman. She was a hard ass. She worked most of her life as a school teacher when segregation was the norm. Boy did she have some stories. If you knew what was good for you, you would not cross her. Everyone in town knew this. They called her Annie. Which was appropriate since her name was Annabel.

I loved to listen to her. I also had a healthy fear of her. Being the youngest of three girls I had seen what happened when my sisters disobeyed or talked back. It had to do with a paddle my dad had made when he was in a fraternity in college.

There is only one time I can remember her picking up that paddle with the intention of “wearing out my backside”. I ran and hid in a closet. I could hear her saying, “Joy Beth! You better get out here!” I don’t know how long I was in that closet, but by the time I emerged, she had cooled off and the paddle had been put away. She laughed and said, “You got away with it this time, but next time…”

I did not give her a next time. As Sally Mae would say, “That learnt me!” Sally Mae made the best cornbread and dressin’. If I close my eyes, my mouth waters as I can still smell and taste it.

Any who, back to the front porch on that hot Summer day…

My mom and aunt would be in the sitting room and the screen door was open. (It was always open in the front and the back of the house so that the non-existent breeze could move through the house giving us a false sense that it was cooler).

During that conversation there were “Bless ‘er heart’s” flying everywhere.

It usually sounded something like this, “We need to pray for Betty, bless ‘er heart, I heard her husband is sleeping around.” Or, “Keep Charlene in your prayers, she just can’t seem to lose weight, bless ‘er heart. She is bigger every time I see her.”

You get the gist. Now if you ever heard a double “Bless ‘er heart”, look out! There is no juicier gossip being said under the guise of a prayer request than that worthy of a double “Bless ‘er heart”.

An example of this would be something that resembled, “Poor Katherine! She drove to the city to have her hair done and they cut too much off. Bless ‘er heart, her face was not made for short hair. I’m not tryin’ to be ugly, but the color, oh, well, it will take weeks to look like anything close to a believable shade. She paid a lot of money too, bless ‘er heart. I hear her husband is not happy.”

Yes, watch out for the double whammy!

Mamaw would smile and look at me. We always had the kind of relationship where we didn’t have to speak to know what the other was thinking.

She would then say, “Joy Beth, why don’t you go pick up some pecans and bring them back here to shell, while I run in and refill my tea?”

I knew that she was going to tell the ladies to move to another room or talk about something else. Otherwise she would have asked me to refill her tea, stating, “Well your legs are younger than mine!”.
(I would have gladly done it. No one I have ever known worked as hard as my grandmother.)

When I came back with my bucket full of pecans there was no more talk from the other room. I could write an entire book just about my grandmother. She was an amazing woman. When she said something, that made it so. There were no questions asked.

I don’t know if she was guarding me from the gossip or if she herself got sick of listening to it? Either way, she put an end to the “Prayer requests circle”.

For those of you who haven’t grown up hearing this phrase, hopefully you will walk away with the not so secret knowledge that when a Southern lady is using the phrase, “Bless ‘er heart”, she might as well be saying a four letter word.

When Cancer is no longer a Stranger

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I tried to think of a great title for this and well, that is the one I came up with. All of the others had profanity. I am mad as hell right now, as I write this. I figured when I calmed down a little I would regret saying the f word in a blog title or post for that matter. So, that’s that.

I want to share a story with you. It’s a story about the difference between what I think is fair and what I have to believe (through faith only, not logic or feelings or emotion or justice) to be God’s plan.

It’s a story about how sometimes, in the midst of it all, I am too sad to cry, too angry to scream, too numb to pray and too lackadaisical to ask God for any input.

There is this girl. Her name is Elliot. She is beautiful and smart, kind and generous. Her entire life has been based on faith, the love of Christ and her family. She is married to the love of her life and with him, she has, two beautiful young children.

Elliot is a loyal friend. She is a follower of Christ…a daughter…a sister…a wife…a mother.

Then there is me. It is I who have spent the majority of my life living for myself. I ran from God and thought I could hide, but He always found me. Though it would be years of heartache and wreckage before I finally surrendered, God had a plan and still does. I emerged from my prodigal journey with many scars, but overall rather unscathed. I am married to the love of my life and with him, I have, two beautiful young children.

I am doing my best to make up for time that was frivolously spent. I am a follower of Christ…a daughter…a sister…a wife…a mother.

Elliot has a deadly form of cancer.

It is showing itself to be relentless in it’s attempts to ravage her body.

As of today it has spread to her lungs and liver.

Three weeks ago, her scans were clear.

She needs a miracle…

Elliot and I have been friends for more than two decades.
We went to school together, grew up in church together, played tennis together, had slumber parties, talked about boys and God and our parents together. She still talked to me when others wouldn’t because they did not agree with the way I was behaving. And though I’m certain she didn’t agree, she didn’t shun me.

I cannot help but ask, “WHY HER?!”

She’s done it right. She was a good girl who lived right. Why her?!

Lord, what are you up to??? It is through clenched teeth that I say, “I know God has a plan… He is still in control… He loves us more than any human ever could… In all situations give thanks… He uses everything for His good… His will, not mine…” and on and on my mind races through all of the scripture, quotes, biblical truths, that I have been hearing my whole life.

I don’t feel better.

This isn’t about me!

As I read Elliot’s latest update on her Caring Bridge site I began to feel sick to my stomach. I didn’t know whether to scream, cry, pound the steering wheel (I was parked) or tell God how angry I was? So I did all of the above.

For those of you who just gasped at the thought of me actually telling God how angry I am, you are not familiar with the same God whom I, fall on my face before pleading for a different answer than the one He seems to be speaking, or at times clinch my teeth in defiance while reciting His word, yet truth does not (at times) ease the pain of reality. Other times I lift my face and hands to the sky in reverence and utter disbelief that a God like this could love a wretch like me.

Whether I am praising, weeping, laughing, quoting, sharing with the God of my understanding, He remains my only constant.

Here is an excerpt from Elliot’s journal entry titled “God is still in control”

“…Obviously this is not what any of us had in mind. But God is still in control. We are not supposed to have a spirit of fear, but truthfully, the speed at which this is moving terrifies me. I had a clear scan 3 weeks ago. My hope is still in the Lord, my healer. I am begging each of you to pound the throne of heaven and ask for a miracle. 

When I was first diagnosed, one of my dear friends told me to claim Psalm 91.  So I did. Last night as I lay in the hospital getting an EKG, I struck up a conversation with the nurse. I don’t remember exactly how we even started talking, but our conversation quickly centered around God.  I looked at her with tears in my eyes and asked Where is God? She said, oh baby, He’s here. He will never leave you. And don’t you ever give up on him. Ever.”

I wish I could say that were I lying in a hospital bed, as she was, that I would soon after write a post title that resembled anything close to “God is still in control”. Maybe I would? Or maybe not?

So what do we do when God doesn’t answer our prayer? Or when He doesn’t give us the answer we want? What do we do when there is more than one path and we are not certain which one to take?

The Senior Pastor at our church just finished teaching a series called “When God?” The timing could not have been more perfect. I would encourage you, if you have ever experienced God in any way other than you think He is “supposed” to be (your very own genie in a bottle, who only comes out when summoned), to listen to Andy’s message. It can change your life… if you let it.

He talked about when we feel like God is one of these three things and what to do about it;

  1. Inattentive
  2. Uncooperative
  3. Late

Here is the take away from each message.

Moving Forward

When God is…

INATTENTIVE
Your personal circumstances do not necessarily coincide with God’s feelings about you. God’s apparent inactivity in your life is not a reflection of his activity in the world. If it currently feels like God is inattentive, look back at what he has done for you and out at his activity in the world around you.

UNCOOPERATIVE
While we have permission to ask God to remove our thorns, God has the right to say no to our requests. What do you do when God chooses to showcase his power on the stage of your weakness? Take no for an answer. When you do, God gives you something in return—sustaining grace. 2 Corinthians 12:9

LATE
When God is late in addressing your problems or answering your prayers, it can be difficult to know how to continue on in faith. But the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead offers a picture of hope in the midst of a hopeless situation. If you continue to trust God through your pain, he will eventually show you his glory.

My heart is heavy… my eyes are red and stinging from hours of tears…my head is pounding and yet my mind is numb.

I am not the one with cancer.

Feelings change with circumstances. 

God does not change.

He is consistent, faithful, trustworthy, loving, gracious, all knowing and most importantly, never caught by surprise.

Now, in this moment, is when faith is tested.
    
It is when I must ask myself, “Do I believe God as well as believe in God?” Or does my belief only go as far as the expectation for a happily ever after?

*** If you would like to follow Elliot’s journey, please visit her Caring Bridge site to keep up with the latest information. In the meantime, we covet your prayers.

Why I lie to my kids

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I can just hear the inner monologue now…WHAT?! She lies to her kids?! What kind of parent does that?!

Um, just about every parent I know or have known.

Just the other morning, I dropped my son off in his class at church and he turned and said, “When will you be back?” “In just a few minutes” I said. (LIE!)

As his big brown eyes looked up at me, his little voice said, “What time is it now?”

“Almost 9 o’clock.” I responded.

“And what time will you be back?” he asked.

(By this time the line to check in was growing and our conversation had intrigued several who were waiting.)

“A little after 10:00 Darling. It won’t be long.” I said.

“That’s more than a few minutes!” he exclaimed.

Not knowing what else to say, or how to escape the trap in which I had just been caught, I pulled him to the side and knelt down so that we were eye level.

As my 5 yr. old pulled on my arm saying, “Let’s GO mommy! I wanna go to my class!” I knew I couldn’t miss this opportunity to keep it real with my youngest.

“You’re right, son.” I said.
“It’s actually going to be about 75 minutes.”

“Oh. Okay.” he said. And went running back into his classroom.

I was still kneeling on the floor when I looked up to see pity in the parental gazes coming from my onlookers. “It’s not as if YOU are always honest with YOUR children?!” I thought to myself in a very loud thinking voice. You know the one.

So, I head upstairs with my 5 yr old to drop him off at his class, still a little bewildered by the fact that my 3 yr old just called me out.

As I was waiting in line, a first time visitor was being escorted to the front so that she was able to drop off her child and tell them good-bye.

He runs into the classroom and I hear her say, “BY HONEY! Mommy will be back in just one minute!” (LIE!) I was thinking to myself, that kid will be lying on a shrink’s sofa one day explaining how it all started when his mother said she would be back in one minute and did not return for over an hour.

Photo Credit Freelance Folder
A little dramatic, I know! But I wanted to make her just as bad as I was. I wanted her to be a liar too!

Here’s the deal…this may seem like such a small thing to you. And for those of you still reading, hopefully this will make some sense.

It is a meaningless comment/exaggeration of the truth. UNTIL your 3 yr old calls you out on it!

It started a process of personal inventory. Which if you have ever done this, it is no small feat.

Instead of pointing at the lady in front of me and taking her inventory, which I knew nothing about, mind you, I was forced to look at myself.

What other things do I lie about?

Some of you will not have to be so introspective. For me, my sanity not only relies on this kind of honesty, it requires it.

Photograph : http://www.risesmart.com

I was a liar for a long time, so when I catch myself telling anything that even appears to be a lie, it scares me a little. If it looks like a lie, smells like a lie and sounds like a lie, well, it’s a lie.

Does this mean I’m going to tell my children all of the ridiculous things I did and poor decisions made while growing up. No. Does it mean that I will be one of those parents who says, “I never actually inhaled.” No. I don’t want to be that either.

SO, there is a fine line between truth and TMI.

What is it though?

No…really…I’m asking you…WHAT IS IT?!

I don’t know! I believe it depends on the person, the extent of the information and the age of the child.

Am I justifying my actions? Probably. I tend to do that when I want to feel okay about doing something that I’m not sure is okay to do.

Many studies have been done on how children develop and the way their minds work. It is said that a child 6 yrs or younger does not have the ability to reason. Hence the phrase, “7 is the Age of Reason.”

There is a great article titled “The Truth About Lying” and in it, the author says,
“From about age 4 on, children lie for many of the same reasons adults do: to avoid punishment, to gain an advantage, to protect against an unwanted consequence, and even to boost self-esteem. Youngsters, like adults, sometimes lie to demonstrate power, to maintain privacy, or to protect a friend. When a child lies, she is essentially trying to change a situation, to reconstruct things the way she wants them to be. (Hmmm, at times I still do this.) There is a developmental progression to lying.

Helping your child develop morality and responsibility for his actions over the long haul is the goal…
Model the behavior you expect to see in your child. (I thought I was doing that?!) This sounds obvious (YES, it does!), but it involves monitoring when and how you lie — not an easy task (NO, it isn’t!). If we want to foster a trusting, self-regulating child who cares about his own welfare and that of others, we have to do it the hard way: by being trusting, self-regulating, and respectful adults.” (Ouch!)

Why then, you ask, did I take the time to reason with my 3 yr old? Well, because I think he deserves to know the difference between a few minutes and 75.

All children are different. Mine was content hearing an explanation.
Do I recommend this when he is in mid tantrum. Nooooooooooooooooooooo. But when he is calmly asking for an explanation, I’m going to give him one, whether an “expert” tells me he understands or not.

So, I leave you with no answers today. Only questions.

What are the lies you’re telling your kids and where’s the line?

Just to make you feel better and not leave you with a bitter taste in your mouth and that befuddled look on your face. To get us started, here are a few of the lies that I can remember telling my kids in the last week (give or take a few days). 

What I said:
Play land is closed today (at McDonald’s)
What I meant:
There is no way you are going to play in there! Ew. I’m sure they don’t crawl through all of those tunnels and clean it once a week. I wouldn’t.

What I said:
Mommy is going to take a break and have some quiet time for a few minutes.
What I meant:
Mommy is going to go upstairs, close the door, take some deep breaths while listening to songs on Pandora, none of which will have rhymes about counting or the alphabet.

What I said:
We will go outside in 10 minutes.
What I meant:
When I finish what I am doing, then we will go outside. I’m not sure how long it will take.

What I said:
Mommy is going to run an errand. It will only take a minute.
What I meant:
You’re going to stay here with daddy while I get in daddy’s car (instead of the minivan), roll down the windows, open the sunroof, turn up the music and sing at the top of my lungs while driving around the neighborhood.

What I said:
No honey, this is special mommy chocolate. Boys don’t eat this kind of chocolate. It’s only for girls.
What I meant:
I don’t want to share this chocolate with you. I made a special trip to Whole Foods to buy the good stuff (translation: 70% cacao and imported) and you don’t know the difference between this and a Hershey bar. Besides, I have given up alcohol, so I should not have to share my chocolate.

What I said:
It’s bedtime!
What I meant:
It’s been a really long day and you didn’t take a nap. I know it’s an hour early, but since it’s getting dark earlier, you don’t know whether it’s bedtime or not and I want some “me time”.

Now, do you feel better about yourself? You should. I have a lot of work to do! No wonder my children have no concept of time!

Wrestling demons…

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Ever have one of those dreams that wakes you from sleep with a racing heart and rapid breathing, grasping in the darkness as if you are fighting something that isn’t there?

That is how I woke up this morning. Shaken.

Maybe that’s one of the consequences of having a past where darkness was prevalent?
OR
Maybe it’s one of the blessings?

I haven’t had one of these dreams in a long time, but when I do, a couple of things happen.

  • I am taken back to a time where I felt utterly lost and fear was my guide.
  • I reach for Chris and confirm what is real in this moment.
  • I pray.

There was a time when these sort of dreams were very disturbing to me. In attempts to gain a new perspective, I asked someone who I respect a great deal, what I should do with this feeling that tends to shadow me throughout the day?

This was her response, (as my mind remembers it anyway),

“Where it can be scary to wrestle with demons, especially those from the past, it is a good thing. It reminds us of where we have been, how far we have come and what God has done for us that we could not do for ourselves. Do not look at these dreams as a negative thing. Ask God what He wants you to do with it. Thank Him for life as you know it, today, in this moment. Thank Him for your present reality. And then live. We cannot allow fear to paralyze us when the Creator Himself has called us to life.”

I believe that.

I also believe that we are fighting against something far greater than our memory of a troubling event.

We are fighting the master of darkness.

Okay, I know, it sounds dramatic and a little hokey if you aren’t a big fan of the bible and what has been sprinkled throughout about powers unseen…good and bad.

And maybe I’m still half asleep, but I cannot help but look to God’s word in times like these and the passage that consistently comes to mind is this one; 

“And that about wraps it up. God is strong, and he wants you strong. So take everything the Master has set out for you, well-made weapons of the best materials. And put them to use so you will be able to stand up to everything the Devil throws your way. This is no afternoon athletic contest that we’ll walk away from and forget about in a couple of hours. This is for keeps, a life-or-death fight to the finish against the Devil and all his angels. Be prepared. You’re up against far more than you can handle on your own.” Ephesians 6:12 (The Message)

For those of us who grew up in church it read something like this; 

“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” (New International Version)

I don’t remember ever hearing this passage from a church pew.

Maybe it’s because I wasn’t always paying attention or it could because IT FREAKS PEOPLE OUT!
There are few pastors who are willing to talk about the hard things and not just focus in on the wonderful, uplifting parts of the bible or the verses that talk about giving them more money.

This is one of the many reasons why I love my church.
I could walk in today, recall that which I have said here to any one of those who I consider leaders within the church and instead of looking at me like I have 3 heads, they would guide me through it in a way that I could understand, not downplaying the reality of this spiritual realm that most of us walk around completely oblivious to.

I don’t enjoy those nights when I fall asleep and wrestle the darkness.
I am however encouraged, as it reminds me that I must exercise my spiritual muscles.
Though the battle is already won, the fight is not yet over.