8 Things I’ve Always Wanted to Say to Young Pastors

8 Things I’ve Always Wanted to Say to Young Pastors

As a life-long churchgoer, mother of two adult daughters (22 and 26) who were raised in church, I share my perspective on young pastors and all pastors who work with young people.

Most of the pastors who have influenced my girls have been young. Student pastors are always young, because that’s who junior high and high school students relate to. Which is great, because these leaders understand the kids’ music, their tastes, likes and dislikes.

There’s a down side.

Here are a few things that I’ve experienced with young pastors that I imagine (hope?) they must someday look back on with embarrassment. I’ve wanted to write this for years, but felt that I needed to be farther removed from the experiences.

Be careful how you speak about childrearing. If your kids are under five, you’re not an expert yet. You can talk about “training up” your children, which is great. And easy when they are five and you have total control. But don’t assume that your training up ensures that their choices will always reflect that training. I’ve got news for y’all — they often don’t. I know scores of parents (some pastors) whose children who have strayed far from the values they were raised with. Yes, you can and should train up your children, but don’t fool yourself into thinking that’s a guarantee. It isn’t.

Don’t judge parents whose children make poor choices. This doesn’t mean they didn’t do everything you’re doing right now with your precious two-year-old who already knows 10 Bible verses from memory. Just wait ’til you hit the teenage years and then let’s chat, OK?

Don’t talk down to parents. I once sat down with a youth minister – not a parent – who acted as if I knew nothing about teenagers. The fact that I had two of them in my home 24/7 apparently taught me nothing. Yes, I know you see a different side of them, but don’t discount what the parents know. After all, we’ve lived a little longer than you.

Don’t reinforce the idea that parents aren’t cool. Kids don’t always think their parents are as uncool as they let on. When you roll your eyes or make cracks about “uncool Mom & Dad,” you encourage disrespect. And I can guarantee that attitude will not facilitate a good relationship with your kids’ parents.

Don’t be unrealistic about spiritual fads. When my girls were in junior high and high school, the anti-dating movement was in full swing (Remember I Kissed Dating Goodbye?). While the young pastors ate this crap up with a spoon, most of us parents understood how ridiculous and unworkable it was. My girls’ dating lives began under this roof, under our watchful eyes, and with our approval and respect for the young men they brought home. I shudder to think of them going off to college never having dated. Also, one of them is happily married to her high school sweetheart now. So you never know.

Don’t be cliquish. I’ve watched kids who really needed mentors and leaders in faith be disenfranchised because they aren’t into basketball, football, or whatever the leader’s favorite sport is. Sure, it’s a great way to connect, but there are other ways than sports. Mathletes are just as important as quarterbacks.

Don’t belittle their interests. Both my daughters were cheerleaders and competed on the national stage. They enjoyed it, and we had some great family times traveling for cheer. One of my girls had a leader who told her that “Cheerleading is stupid, and you should quit.” Seriously.

Male pastors, stop talking about your “smoking hot wife. Seriously, is this how you’d want your daughter’s husband to refer to her? You know the message you’re sending when you say that? Pretty is important, girls, and boys, be sure your wife is pretty and value her for that more than anything. Why not talk about how capable and intelligent your wife is, and teach young boys to respect a woman for more than her looks?

I know this sounds negative, but, we’ve had — and been witness to — some pretty negative experiences with church and young people. Much of it comes from the arrogance of a young pastor fresh out of seminary who believes there really are new things under the sun.

Like a stupid urban legend or bell-bottom jeans, by the time a parent arrives at their kids’ teenage years, we’ve seen and heard a lot of this trendy nonsense come and go at least a couple of times. Let parents be a resource. Listen to them. Respect their wisdom and experience and be willing to learn from those who have been around the bends you haven’t yet arrived at.

This isn’t addressed to any particular young pastor; it’s a composite of the ones we’ve known over the years. 

3 Things to Understand About Teenagers

3 Things to Understand About Teenagers

Yes, it is possible to communicate with teenagers — in fact, I believe most of the time they really want to invite us into their world.

But what happens when they do?

When they want to share their ideas about music, clothes, activities, do we call it stupid or let them know how much better our way is?

Three ways to build bridges instead of walls with teenagers:

  1. Get with text. For teens and young adults, their primary mode of communication is the text message. Yet all too few parents are willing to adopt this quick, efficient mode of communication. Instead they complain that it’s silly and ask, “Why don’t you just call?” Instead of dismissing it because it’s less familiar, join them. Many times my girls texted me in situations in which they’d never have called, when they were out with friends, or even dates. They would let me know where they were and just chat about how things are going.
  2. Music. There has to be something you can find to like. When I was a teen (in the ‘70s), my parents hated all of the music I listened to except Simon and Garfunkel. My dad had derisive nicknames for rock and disco and constantly let me know how awful he thought it was. The only positive comment either of my parents ever made about my music was when I played Bridge Over Troubled Water for Daddy. He loved that song and I thought it was fabulous that he liked something I played for him. These days, much of what our kids listen to is remakes from the 70s. It’s so much fun to sing along and watch them wonder how I know the words.
  3. Social Networking. Yes, they spend a lot of time on Facebook and, increasingly, Twitter. It’s not stupid and it’s not, except in extreme cases, a waste of time. They are preparing themselves to live in this technology-saturated world, they are learning to network and to embrace technology, which is a positive thing.

One question I get asked a lot as many parents begin to join Facebook, “Should I friend my kid?” I say no. Let them friend you. Don’t make it a requirement or an obligation. My policy has been not to friend folks my kids’ age, so they don’t feel obligated or uncomfortable, however I’ll certainly accept their requests if they friend me, which they generally have.

As for monitoring their postings on social networks, as long as they lived under my roof, I had the password or the account was closed. Complete and total access. No exceptions.

If you want to communicate with teens, you have to do it on their terms, come into their world. When they invite you in, be a good guest.

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.

Christmas 2.0

Christmas 2.0

My Christmas tree doesn’t look like much anymore. In fact. there are no gifts under the tree at all. There isn’t even a tree skirt; the dogs just keep playing with it and doing their business on it, so what’s the use?

These days, the girls’ Christmas lists just include money and gift cards so they can shop for themselves. I don’t fight mall traffic or stand in line for Beanie Babies, Tickle Me Elmo or Furby. There are no packages hidden under drop cloths in the garage. I haven’t wrapped one single gift this year. No reason to charge the video camera to record the excited faces on Christmas morning.

Sound kinda depressing?

Not at all. I’ve traded frenzied shopping, lists and lines for time. More time with loved ones, especially my girls, whose time with us slips away too quickly. More time to relax and enjoy the season, to pause and reflect on why we celebrate Christmas.

Yesterday I did nearly half of my shopping in about 15 minutes’ time. That must be some sort of record, right? There are a couple of gifts to buy, but I won’t be stressed, hurried or frazzled. I’ll enjoy the cool weather, the decorations and the Christmas carols on the radio.

I’ve learned to embrace the changes that come with each new season of life, even as I look back misty-eyed on years past. It’s not like that anymore, but it is like this. And this is amazing.

How have your holiday celebrations changed through the years?

Photo by jimmiehomeschoolmom via Flickr

Once More Across Home Plate

Once More Across Home Plate

I turned 51 a couple of weeks ago. I like birthdays. And no cancer survivor in their right mind complains about getting another year older.

It’s kind of like a lopsided baseball game — even though the winning team is far ahead, they still try to cross home plate one more time. You can certainly win the game without the insurance runs, but they do make the victory a little more secure. At 51, I’m 11 runs ahead, which is a pretty nice lead.

A few random birthday reflections:

  • My family doesn’t even try to put all those candles on my birthday cake anymore; i just get the big number candles. I think they believe it would be dangerous otherwise.
  • It’s fun to watch my younger friends freak out when I tell them I finished my masters degree before they were born.
  • It’s cool to see the look of surprise when younger people realize I know how to work a computer and can type a text message just as fast as they can.
  • It’s good to have an excuse for being absent-minded and scatterbrained, which I’ve always been anyway. Now I can just remind people that I’m old. My kids buy it completely and leave me alone about the forgetfulness.
  • Every year is better than the last. The body may be falling apart, but my mind is full of the kind of lessons you only learn from experience. When I can remember them. See above.

I have a great life and am grateful for each and every one of these years. I love having adult and almost-adult children, especially when they turn out to be people you’d spend time with anyway. Marriage is better after 23 years than after one — anyone can be married for a year; 23 is a grand slam — and I’ve always wanted to hit one of those.

Note: I do know that baseball season is over. It’s the only sport I know enough about to make an analogy. And it’s only a few months until spring training starts.

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

Life with Teenagers: Let Go

Life with Teenagers: Let Go

sran-car

Being a parent is all about the letting go. Not a new idea. So why after nearly 21 years as a parent do I sometimes still not get it?

We had this conversation at my house yesterday afternoon:

Sara Ann: Oh, yeah, Mom, I think I forgot to tell you that I almost got killed a couple of weeks ago. I was going to Starbucks before school and it was about 5:45 a.m. and this drunk driver was swerving everywhere and he almost hit me. I got out of his way, then he drove off really fast. I had to pull over because I was freaking out. Yeah, I guess I forgot to tell you …

After my pulse returned to normal, I asked her why she hadn’t told me sooner, as she’s generally pretty open. She shrugged her shoulders and said, “You would just freak out.” Well … yeah. Truthfully, I’m usually not one to freak and my girls have never been afraid to tell me things. But I’ll admit to a fleeting thought, “Back to carpool line. I didn’t mind that so much. I can take her to school every day. Then she’ll be safe.” For just an instant I wanted to take back control, to keep her with me, or, as she put it, “Uhh, Mom, just ruin my life.”

We all know that’s not the answer — I can’t protect her from drunk drivers when she’s on the road and I can’t shield her from mean girls, stupid boys, failure, disappointment and the consequences of her own choices. The truth is, I cannot keep her safe from any and all harm. But if I do my job well, I can teach her to cope with it.

Letting go doesn’t mean you don’t care — it means you do not allow yourself to worry about things you cannot control. You take reasonable precautions. You teach, pray, counsel, advise and guide — but worry has no constructive outcome. Take back the reins at the slightest hint of discomfort and struggle and you will raise a dependent child who will rightly doubt her ability to function in the real world.

When my girls were infants, learning to walk, I didn’t let them hit their heads, but they did fall on their butts a few times. You don’t learn to ride a bike without a skinned knee or two. It’s just harder with teenagers. The older the child, the bigger the risk.

With greater risks come great rewards. Nothing satisfies me more than a wise decision one of my girls has made as I walk behind her and provide guidance and advice rather than strict control.

I hate that Sara Ann was so close to what could have been a very serious accident, but I’m glad she gained a little experience and confidence to handle danger, to make a quick decision that may have saved her life. It’s probably better that I didn’t know about the drunk driver that day — somehow it’s easier to handle two weeks later when she can shrug her shoulders about it.

And there is nothing I could have done about it anyway.

50

50

50

Today is my 50th birthday. Not only do I not care who knows, I’m proud to be 50. Here are the things I’m proud of:

Two days shy of 22 years of marriage. That ain’t easy. You don’t know someone until you share a toothpaste tube, and you don’t really know them until you’ve seen for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health up close and personal.

My girls. They are 16 and 20, and beyond the maternal love for them, I admire and respect them as people. They are smart, beautiful, gifted and accomplished in their own right. Jim and I have raised them to be people of faith; they have made that faith their own and it guides their daily lives and shapes their future. Though I can’t claim credit, I hope that in some small way I’ve contributed to the young women they are today.

Wisdom. I’m much smarter at 50 than I was at 20. I wrote about wisdom a year ago.

Perspective. I love that I remember the original version of the songs my kids like today. And I get to laugh at the invariably crappy remakes. I’ve seen bell-bottoms be in style twice. And when my kids laugh at my prom pictures, I’m old enough to know that in a few short years, they will laugh at their own.

Relationships. The group of people pictured above is my daughter, Sara Ann, and her group of friends. Over the past few years, I’ve watched them grow up — through middle school, Myspace, AIM, puberty, cell phones, Facebook, drivers licenses and now college visits.

Anyone who is disenchanted with today’s teens has never met this group. Earlier this week, they threw me a surprise birthday party. They bought me a wonderful present, cooked the food, but my favorite gift is the oversize card that each one signed with a personal message. I’m going to frame it and hang it in my office.

It’s only been a few hours, but so far, 50 rocks.

Letting Go

Letting Go

It’s so hard to let go. I thought I had mastered it after Elizabeth, 20, left for college, which left Sara Ann, 16, as our only child at home.

I was her primary mode of transportation and it made for some valuable one-on-one time in the car that I came to treasure. Until August 1. She got her driver’s license that day and suddenly she didn’t need my driving services anymore. Now it’s just a text message to tell me where she is and where she will go next.

That hit me hard. I thought I had two more years to finish the letting go process; it never occurred to me that it must start now.

She sets her own alarm to wake up so I really don’t have to get up in the morning. But I want to hug her, watch her leave and remind her that I love her.

She can make her own lunch, but I do that, too, because when she sits down to eat I want her to remember that someone knows just how she likes her peanut butter and jelly and whether or not she is tired of carrots and ranch dip.

And even though it’s just the three of us, we eat together around the table as much as her schedule allows, because Jim and I want her to know that even if she is our only child at home, she is still worth setting the table for.

For the next two years, I’m going to let go where I must and hold on where I can.

Life With Teenagers: The Hills I’m Not Gonna Die On: Part Two

Life With Teenagers: The Hills I’m Not Gonna Die On: Part Two

In this post I began this discussion of the hill I refuse to die on. This is the rest of the list.

  1. Noise Teenagers are loud. As long as they are inside my house and not disturbing my neighbors, I don’t care how loud they are — I’m just glad they are safe at my house. They can raise the roof for all I care.
  2. Bedtime I’m a night owl myself, so unless it’s a school night, I don’t care how late they stay up. They like to have friends over and it’s a badge of honor to stay up until sunrise. What the heck?
  3. Messiness Teenagers are either messy or miserable. If you invite them over, they will mess up your house. So what? The time will come when there are no teenagers around and your house will only be as messy as you are.
  4. Planning. They do not plan. They may say they are going to dinner at one place, change plans at the last minute and not eat dinner at all. They are spontaneous and decisions are made via text message. Go with the flow. Just make sure your teen lets you know where they are at all times. I strongly advise learning to text if you don’t already.
  5. Thong underwear. Ick. Yeah, I know. If she really wants a string up her butt, I’m not gonna fight it. Besides, they take up much less room in the washing machine. Just don’t pick them up by the string. I don’t have to explain that, do I?

For all of their complications and weirdness, they are some of the most enjoyable people you will ever know. They are honest, idealistic and blissfully unrealistic. If you can be patient, flexible, non-judgmental and willing to laugh at yourself, you can have a blast with them. If not … prepare to be driven out of your mind.

Life with Teenagers: The Hills I’m Not Gonna Die On: Part One

Life with Teenagers: The Hills I’m Not Gonna Die On: Part One

girls-silly

Life with teenagers requires some flexibility. No, as the parent you really don’t have to bend, but if you’re wise, you’ll figure out which things are deal breakers and which are not. Fighting with your teen over minor issues will ruin both your lives. Is that really what you want them to remember about their last few years at home? Pick your battles. Here, in no particular order, are the issues I consider minor in the grand scheme of things.

  1. Weight Barring a serious health issue, never mention weight, especially to a teenage girl. If they have an extra pound or two, I promise you they are more than aware of it. To point it out to them is to add insult to injury. My girls have never struggled with weight, but I did and I remember once my mother mentioned it to me. Bad idea.
  2. Language I never tolerate the Lord’s name taken in vain, but words like crap, sucks, piss, the occasional damn or hell do not freak me out. Even on occasion, in a time of great stress, something stronger — as long as it’s around close friends and/or family and not in public. The teenage years are arguably the most difficult of life; the pressures are greater at younger ages than ever before. If they are otherwise walking the straight and narrow, sometimes it may be wise to allow them to let off a little steam in a safe environment.
  3. Hair Length, color, style. My youngest daughter has twice dyed her hair: the first time it was fuschia; the second time it was a purple streak down the back. She had fun, it’s gone now. No harm, no foul.
  4. Piercings We’ve done more ear piercings that I can count, including cartilage and one belly button. It’s not my taste, but both my girls are clean-cut lovely young ladies; my 16-year-old just likes to pierce her ears; my 19-year-old pierced her belly button as a reward for straight As her senior year. It’s not a moral issue.

Sorry if some of these offend, but I’ve got two bright, warm, loving and morally upright kids, so it’s working for us. And if you want to be offended again, come back for Part Two later this week.

Disclaimer: This post in no way constitutes professional advice and is not endorsed by the Surgeon General, American Psychological Association or Dr. Phil. I do, however have a sister and brother-in-law who are psychiatrists and they probably agree with me on most of these points, so it’s all good.

Strollers to Car Keys: Already?

Strollers to Car Keys: Already?

This photo was taken in the summer of 1994, when my girls were two and five-and-a-half. They are now 16 and 19. Time flies.

About 19 years ago I read a magazine article that talked about how we often wish our children’s lives away. I can’t wait until the first smile, can’t wait until they can sit up, crawl, walk, talk, or the biggie … use the potty. I stuck the article on my refrigerator as a reminder to savor each moment. Though I’ve long since lost the article, its truth has stayed with me through the years.

A guy I know from Twitter reminded me of that old magazine article. The other day I realized that as of this writing, I have exactly 16 more times to drive a child to school and pick her up — ever. Next year, she’ll drive herself to school and I will be through with carpool line forever.

Though there are many things about child rearing that aren’t particularly enjoyable, I’m never ready to leave them behind. Nothing particularly fun about carpool line. Sitting and waiting, then fighting traffic. Potty training wasn’t such a joy and being awakened in the middle of the night by a screaming baby certainly was no day at the beach.

Though I’m often called sappy and overly sentimental, I’m glad I’ve allowed myself to dwell in some of these moments for a bit. Yesterday it was pacifiers, strollers and carseats — today it’s boys, cars and college — and tomorrow’s empty nest will come far too quickly.