Hot Coffee, Cold Beer and Dell

Hot Coffee, Cold Beer and Dell

I’m going to preface this by saying that sometimes I have weird dreams. And weird thoughts. So maybe this is one of them, but it’s a kind of a fun mental game I’ve been playing for quite some time.

A few weeks ago, on the way home from our last lake trip, I shared my mental exercise with my family over lunch. They thought I was nuts. They still do. And they are probably going to roll their eyes if they read this (I’m used to it).

So I offer to you:

Let’s say you were being held against your will in an undisclosed location and had the opportunity to speak to your family in the presence of your captors. What would you say that is so out of character for you that your family would know you were in deep trouble?

For me:

  • I sure wish I had a cold beer (I hate beer).
  • Boy, do I need a good, hot cup of coffee (hate coffee too).
  • Ugh. All they are playing here is Simon & Garfunkel and it’s driving me crazy. Those guys can’t sing at all.
  • Just saw the most awesome ad set in Comic Sans and Papyrus.
  • I’m dying for that new Dell laptop (that one would have Jim sending the people in the white coats to carry me away).

You get the idea.

Some other favorites:

  • Jim: I’m craving broccoli. Ha.
  • Sara Ann (19-year-old daughter): My favorite word is crusty.
  • Elizabeth (22-year-old daughter): Sports are boring.
  • Ethan (Sara Ann’s boyfriend): I’m craving licorice and bell peppers.
  • JP (Elizabeth’s boyfriend): Sports are boring.

You get the idea. If you know these folks at all, you’d know that Jim despises broccoli, Sara Ann can’t stand the word crusty, Elizabeth and JP are sports fanatics and Ethan feels about licorice and bell peppers the way Jim does about broccoli.

I realize this has absolutely no value to anyone, but, please, I’m recovering from surgery, ok? Gimme a break.

So … how would I know if you were in trouble? Hit me up in the comments.

Empty Nest Countdown: One. Week.

Empty Nest Countdown: One. Week.

This countdown is getting serious. She leaves in One. Week.

What do you do the last week before your last child leaves for college?

It’s busy for her as she says goodbye to her friends, packs and cleans her trash pit dumping zone room. Busy for me as I plan the send-off dinner, try to enjoy every minute with her without smothering her to death and cry. A lot.

In some ways, the anticipation has been worse than the actual event. At least it seems so now — ask me again next week after she leaves.

She’s ready.

  • My dining room is full of dorm and her room is full of boxes and suitcases.
  • She’s excited about the challenge and ready to prepare for her future.
  • Over the weekend I got to hear her share insights on faith that were deep, thoughtful and meaningful, which gives me such peace.

I’m ready.

  • Yes, it’s hard. Hard as crap. But my Daddy taught me that few worthwhile things are easy. So that means this is very worthwhile.
  • I’ve got lots of exciting projects of my own to work on and that is going to be so much fun.
  • I can’t wait to watch how she’s going to use her gifts, talents and passions to work for good in the world.

At this point, I’ve either prepared her for adulthood or I have failed, so, in a way, the pressure is off. Now I get to just enjoy her last week at home. And try not to cry. Much.

Yeah, right.

The Empty Nest Countdown: 20 Days

The Empty Nest Countdown: 20 Days

In 20 days, my youngest daughter, Sara Ann, leaves for college. It’s the most significant life change since I first became a mother in 1988. I’ve been counting down the days, not to be morbid, but because it’s easier for me to process if I’m aware of what is happening.

We spent this past weekend at my family’s lake house on Greers Ferry Lake in Arkansas — the setting for some of the best times of our lives. It was our last lake weekend before The Empty Nest and my first inclination was, don’t think think about the fact that it is the last, just enjoy the time.

Except … while thinking about it certainly brings tears, do I really want to look back on these days and remember nothing special about them? No — I want to savor every moment; I want to be fully there. Tears are a small price to pay for the memory of:

  • The last dinner at the table at the lake. Steak, baked potatoes, garlic bread and peach cobbler. A nice bottle of Cabernet.
  • The last day on the lake. An idyllic sunny day with a pleasant breeze, screams of joy on the inner tube and time to relax and enjoy the clear water and unspoiled beauty of the foothills of the Ozarks.
  • The drawer. As we packed to leave, she showed me “her drawer” in the master bedroom. I hadn’t known about this drawer. It contains things she has kept there since she’s been old enough to open a drawer. Books, markers, hair clips, coloring books, rubber bands, some small toys, pencils. Little girl things, not college girl things.

The drawer took me back to a time when college would happen someday, not in 20 days; when many more dinners, sunny days, skinned knees, broken bones and broken hearts lie ahead.

I’ve never believed that to display emotion is to show weakness, that it’s necessary to deny what we feel in order to be strong. In my experience, it requires more strength to face that which is painful; to walk through rather than try to walk around and pretend to be unaffected.

So in 20 days, when I leave my youngest three hours away in Conway, Arkansas, I will feel it. I won’t distract myself with busyness, or try to take my mind to a happy place. I’ll curl up in a ball and cry if I need to and I’ll remember every thought, every feeling, every moment. And I know there will be a time when it hurts just a little less.

But for now, I’m going to count down the last 20 days and treasure each one. Even if it costs me a tear or two.

In Permanent Ink

In Permanent Ink

What is the one thing you are least likely to do? Jump out of an airplane? Go camping? Run a marathon?

There is no skydive, no tent and definitely no 26.2 in my future, but if you had asked me this time last year what I’d be less likely to do than any of those … it would be get a tattoo.

So nearly a year ago, when my youngest daughter started talking about getting a tattoo for her 18th birthday, I tried to pretend I didn’t hear her. She already has about six ear piercings, so I’ve grown accustomed to her unconventional look and am far less concerned about her outer appearance that who she is on the inside. But a tattoo is so … permanent. And she’s only 18.

As I listened to her, I realized that she didn’t want it for the purpose of rebellion; she’s a lot of things, but rebellious isn’t one of them. She wasn’t interested in the impression it would make on others. She wanted a tattoo because she wanted a visible symbol of her faith in a place where she, and others, would see it every day.

So I began to warm to the idea, accept that her preferences and tastes may be just different than mine and respect the fact that her faith is something she wishes to carry with her in a visible way for the rest of her life.

sran.tat_
Sara Ann’s dove, on her right wrist

Then the other shoe dropped.

“Mom,” she said. “For my 18th birthday, I want to get a tattoo and I want you to get one with me. I want it to be a mother-daughter thing. I want us to do it together.”

What? No way. You have got to be kidding.

But …

She kept asking. She was not joking.

And I realized something. This was not another hole in her ear. This was forever. Visible to all. For her, it was a profound moment. The moment she would put a symbol of her faith on her body in a way that all would see. Irrevocably. And she invited me into that moment.

One thing I’ve learned in 21 years of parenting: When your teenager asks you to be a part of a significant moment in their life, it’s a high honor, not to be taken lightly or scoffed at. So, at 51, this suburban housewife got inked.

It brings to mind this:

Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads.* Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.
Deuteronomy 6:5-9 (*emphasis mine)

bgs.tat_.close_
My cross, duplicated from a silver cross necklace Jim gave me years ago

In ancient days, observant Jews bound what is believed to be these verses to their bodies in leather boxes called tefilin, translated into Greek as phylactery, so the idea of having a visible reminder of the faith attached to the body is not a new one. Perhaps in the same way, the dove that will now always adorn her wrist will remind her of the Holy Spirit’s constant presence in her life.

I know that the cross on my left shoulder blade, the same side of the body as my heart, will ever remind me of the sacrifice of the Cross, the grace of the Cross and the glory of the Cross.

And a sacred moment between mother and daughter that took place late at night in a funky tattoo shop in downtown Jonesboro, Arkansas.

Never say never.

What’s one thing (you think) you’ll never do?

Sunset or Sunrise?

Sunset or Sunrise?

It was a beautiful sunset — or was it a sunrise?

I watched it from our deck of my family’s house overlooking Greers Ferry Lake. Sara Ann was about to begin her senior year in high school, my last school year with a child at home. Prelude to the empty nest.

Between the uncharacteristically cool breeze, the natural beauty and the chardonnay, my mood was reflective as I thought about the beginning of the end of this part of my life. A life defined by semesters, school days, spring breaks and Christmas vacations. The end of my girls’ lives as children as they move into adulthood — college graduation and the beginning of a bright career for Elizabeth, high school graduation and off to college for Sara Ann. A beginning for me as, for the first time in 21 years, I explore my own priorities and interests apart from motherhood. The end of rules and curfews. The beginning of years of friendship with my girls.

I love pictures of sunsets. This particular sunset marked the end of an amazing day, but as sure as it set over the lake, the sun rose again on the other side of the night. When you look at the photo, unless you know the exact location and directional orientation, you don’t know whether it’s a sunrise or a sunset. So I realize it is with life — every end holds within it a new beginning and there is beauty in both.

Though I know this transition will not be easy and I approach it with mixed emotions, I cling to the idea that, for us, the sun is rising.

Photo credit: Sara Ann

Guest Blog Post: Invisible Children

Guest Blog Post: Invisible Children

invisible-children

My very first guest blogger is my 16-year-old daughter, Sara Ann. She wrote this article for her school newspaper about a cause that is very close to her heart.

The Price of Peace

“If the greatest generation sacrificed for war, what will our generation be known for if we sacrifice for peace? Peace is closer than ever, but Invisible Children’s work is far from done. This is an important time in Uganda’s history and we must be a part of its future.”
— Invisible Children

For more than a decade, Ugandan people have been relocated and forced to live in overcrowded displacement camps. This is a result of the most neglected humanitarian emergency in the world. The Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) and the Government of Uganda have been waging a war for more than 23 years, which has left an entire generation of youth that has never known peace.

It began in the 1980s when a woman named Alice Lakwena believed that the Holy Spirit spoke to her and ordered her to overthrow the Ugandan government for injustice. As she gained followers, her movement gained momentum and resentment toward the government increased. Lakwena was later exiled and a man named Joseph Kony took control and her movement became the LRA. As the LRA attacked villages, the government was forced to evict Ugandans and relocate them into displacement camps, in which they must stay, for fear of abduction by the LRA.

Surprisingly, the LRA does not care who they abduct, including small children ages 10 and younger. In fact, it is estimated that more than 90 percent of the LRA’s troops were abducted as children. Even in these displacement camps, where they were moved as a safety precaution, the children leave, walk three to four hours, and stay the night only to get up bright and early and make the walk back “home.”

One of the many informative videos tells the story of a boy named Ofonyo Innocent who was one of those children, called a night commuter. He witnessed the abductions of friends, relatives, and peers by the LRA and watched as they were forced to commit horrifying acts against their own people. What child deserves to live this way?

Invisible Children officials encourage people through their mission statement, Invisible Children is all about using who we are to meet people where they are; every individual doing what they can to make a difference.

Open your eyes, let your mind leave the comfortable city of Germantown and realize what these children must endure. Most of us never encounter the circumstances these children must tolerate on a daily basis. Do what you can, raise awareness and get involved. Let’s make these invisible children visible; not just to our school, our city, our state, or even our country. Let our whole world see the lives of the invisible.

You Can Help.

braceletsCategoryImgVisit Invisible Children online and explore these and other ways to get involved.

Watch the movie. Purchase the The Rough Cut on DVD and share it with your friends.

Buy a bracelet. Bracelets are made by Ugandan natives, and each is associated with an “invisible child.” When you order a bracelet, you also receive a video about this child.

Tri campaign involves a simple donation of as little as three dollars each week and sustains life-changing programs in Uganda.

Buy a t-shirt. Donate money and help spread the word with a great t-shirt.

About Sara Ann (by her mom)

sran.bricksThe coolest thing about Sara Ann is that her faith is not about a set of rules; it’s about Jesus’ love and compassion and she puts feet to it as she strives to love and serve as He calls us to do.

Last year at a youth event she heard a presentation on Invisible Children, a nonprofit organization that serves children in war-torn Uganda. The images of the children stirred her heart and moved her to action. She established a Facebook group to promote Invisible Children at her school, and within one day there were 180 members. Membership is now 300.

Sara Ann has been on two short-term mission trips to Puerto Rico and is active in small groups and student ministries at Germantown United Methodist Church and Living Hope Church. Each month she goes downtown with her Germantown United Methodist youth group to serve breakfast to homeless persons.

She is currently a junior in high school and plans to major in journalism and move to Africa after college as a missionary and journalist.

— b

Mother’s Day X 20

Mother’s Day X 20

girls.92

This photo of my girls was taken in 1992.

This past Sunday, Mother’s Day, I celebrated my 20th anniversary of motherhood. It began about this time of year in 1988 — my first pregnancy. While lying on the couch one afternoon, I felt a strange fluttering in my abdomen, which I immediately recognized as life.

Some highlights of my 20 years as a mom:

  • My husband talked to my stomach throughout both pregnancies. My girls knew his voice and quieted to it at birth.
  • Nursing.
  • The first smile, solid food, step, word, hug, kiss, I love you. The first day of school, first day of middle school, first day of high school, first love, first kiss, first heartbreak.
  • The sex talk.
  • Many, many meals together around our kitchen table.
  • Being excited for her as she prepares for college while my heart breaks at the thought of her leaving my home.
  • My youngest daughter wraps her foot around mine when we snuggle, and says, yeah girl, when I call her. She knows that she can invite her friends over first and ask later.
  • My oldest daughter takes my hand during church, looks into my eyes, pulls me close to her and smiles. She sends me text messages and tells me she can’t wait to come home from college and hang out with me.

I miss the tiny shoes, huge hair bows, sticky hands, dirty faces and the innocence, but I love the conversations, lunches, shopping, text messages and the time when a daughter becomes a friend.

Defeat?

Defeat?

Last week my daughter’s varsity cheer squad competed in a national competition. They are a highly-talented and experienced group with the potential to win or at least place very high in the competition. Unfortunately, Murphy’s Law ruled and they placed a miserable 18th (out of 20 in the division). They were devastated.

Since I believe that all things really do work together for good (Romans 8:28), I’ve been thinking about what kind of good can come of this defeat. We learned:

  • Our self-worth is not tied to our achievements and defeat does not take away our gifts, talents and abilities.
  • Those who truly count in our lives love and accept us despite our defeat.
  • Sometimes we are better for having tried that which is difficult, even if we fail.

They could have played it safe and won handily with a simple routine that didn’t stretch or push them in any way. But their coach, recognizing their talent and abilities, crafted one of the most creative — and difficult — cheer routines I have ever seen. It required amazing strength, endurance and confidence; and it pressed them to learn new things that they would otherwise never have known; they were stretched to (and perhaps beyond) their limits.

Though winning is much more fun, I’m kind of glad they shot for the moon; maybe we all need to try something that is far too difficult from time to time, instead of always going with what we know is safe.

Sisters

Sisters

girls-close

My girls, left, in 1992 (Sara Ann was one day old) and, right, on Mother’s Day 2007

My two girls have always been very close. They are three-and-a-half years apart in age, four grades apart in school, which works out marvelously where college is concerned.

I resolved early on, as soon as I knew I was pregnant with Sara Ann, that I would do everything in my power to ensure that their relationship was close. So when I went into labor, we took Elizabeth to the hospital with us, so she could see her new sister as soon as possible after her birth.

It didn’t work out that way — 24 hours of labor later, I had a C-section and Elizabeth (then 3 1/2) had to go home to sleep.

But the next day, she came to the hospital and held her sister for the first time. That was a profound moment for me, and I don’t think I was emotional just because of the hormones. She was then and always has been very careful, very maternal, very protective of her sister, and I know that Sara Ann looks up to her. It has been such a sweet thing to watch them grow and watch their relationship bloom.

One of the most satisfying things about my life now is watching how, despite their differences in personality and style, they genuinely love and enjoy one another. I love seeing them snuggle together in my bed to watch a TV show and help each other decide what to wear.

My Most Prestigious Award

My Most Prestigious Award

award

In the last couple of weeks I have been awarded the highest honor ever bestowed upon me. (Please pardon my messy desk.)

My youngest daughter’s friends are at our house a lot, and I frequently drive carpool to various places, so I’ve gotten to know them pretty well.

Last week we had a big party for my daughter’s birthday, and about 23 of her best friends were in attendance. At some point, they always use my computer to get on facebook. One of the girls stuck a note on my monitor that said “Emily loves Mrs. Beth,” and “your Ro-Tel dip is yum yum!” then another friend followed suit with “Austin loves Mrs. Beth,” with a heart. The girls spent the night, and when I came downstairs the next morning to check my email, they had placed colorful sticky notes all over the front of my monitor, all with their names, declaring their love for me.

I haven’t really done anything spectacular for these kids; I make them welcome in my home, cook for them, drive them around and just hang with them and talk and listen. It isn’t work; they are great kids and so much fun to have around. But I don’t think it takes that much to make them feel loved, valued and cared for — listening to the things that bug them, letting them vent when they need to, encouraging and accepting them as they are.

Yes, teenagers can be difficult at times. But it is this tangible encouragement that keeps me going and I cannot help but smile when I sit down at my computer and look at my notes.

And the Ro-Tel dip: simple and cheap. Just throw two cans of Ro-Tel tomatoes and two pounds of Velveeta into a crock pot, turn it on and watch the feeding frenzy in an hour or so.