Little Lamb

     I'm in the last week before returning from sabbatical and have been visiting with friends, working in the garden, resting, spending time with my family.  I've also done much reflection, both on life in general, but on the sabbatical in particular as well.  

    There was one event from this time that keeps coming back to me.  I was hiking on Iona and was in an area with a herd of sheep.  As I walked I heard this young lamb bleat for its mother.  A second later, the mother responded.  She was a long way away, but as I looked out over the meadow, I could see the little lamb running towards the sound.  Then the little lamb stopped, bleated again, waited for the mother to respond and then took off running again towards the sound.  Because they were quite a distance apart, this call and answer routine went on for a good five minutes.  But I found it both intriguing and compelling.  I couldn't stop watching and listening to this very normal, very beautiful drama playing out between this ovine mother and child. 

    It is a familiar situation with so many species of animals.  Babies go exploring, trying the world out on their own.  But eventually they become a little uneasy or a little hungry or a little tired, and then they need the reassurance of the parent that the parent is still there, still loving them, still available for them to come home to.  Even now, with young adult children I see this play out with my own kids.  Middle is still in Europe, exploring with his friend from college.  They have travelled from Norway through Portugal, Spain, France, Slovakia, Poland, Austria, Italy and more.  Middle is very independent.  Most of the time he travels on his own or with his friend and seems very competent and confident in finding his own way.  But every once in a while he reaches out.  "Just checking in" he says.  Usually he doesn't need anything, though he does drop hints about money running low (which I send over) or he mentions missing something (that I make sure I'll have on hand when he comes home in a couple weeks).  He values his independence, but there is still that need for reassurance and safe connection as well.

    Middle might argue with my assessment.  He might say he just values the relationship and that is why he calls.  He might say he's calling to reassure me that he is okay.  But this morning when he called, I still found myself remembering the sheep.  

        As a parent, I have found the independence of my children difficult at times.  I have and continue to love being a mother.  I enjoy hearing their stories, their thoughts, their feelings.  At this point I learn from them and have at times asked them for information about new technology, new or slang terms, or about information specific to what they each are learning or have learned at school.  I love spending time with each of them, and I love how specific the things I do with each are.  With Eldest, we go to Heather Farms park to walk, we get sandwiches at Sweet Affair across from Heather Farms.  If we have more time, we go down to Monterey together and have our routines there that include the aquarium, walks along the beach front, eating clam chowder in sour dough bowls and getting ice cream at Ghirardelli.  We sing together in harmony in the car as we go to these places.  And that is what Eldest and I do.  

    Middle and I talk philosophy, politics, theology.  I love these conversations with him and I always learn a great deal from him.  We love to hike together, to travel together to new places.  With Eldest it is the familiar, with Middle it is almost always the unknown and unfamiliar.  

    Youngest and I work puzzles together, including the ROKR puzzles that are permanent additions to our house.

    While Eldest and I sing together, Youngest and I dance together: putting in music and just moving to the beat.  Youngest has less intensity than the other two, so our relationship involves more teasing and playing.  There's an easiness there that allows us to do simple things like go to the grocery store together to just enjoy each other's company.  

    But while we have grown into these ways of being together as adults, they are still also doing the age appropriate stepping into independence.  While I am incredibly grateful that they still enjoy and seek out time with me, I miss them needing me as they used to. But the gift of the sheep Marco-Polo routine is the reminder that no matter how far they go, there will be times when they call my name just for that tiny reassurance that I am still here for them, something I will always and forever be.  

Raising Teenagers, or Becoming an Adult

          I now officially have three young adults, ages 22, 20 and 18 as offspring.  While that seems to mean that there is really only one "teen" left in our family, my experience of all three is that they are still teenagers.  One of the ways this is true is that they are all still "pushing" up against me on a regular basis.  They test boundaries, they say things that I am sure have no purpose other than to upset me, they are making choices that seem to be focused primarily on being different from what I would do or would choose for them.  This is the job of being a teenager: to differentiate, to discover, to figure out who they are on their own, apart from the wishes, expectations or beliefs of their parents.  Each one of my three does this differently, but they are all actively engaged in it.  

       This week one of my kids informed me that I did not need to know their summer plans because they are handling it on their own and don't need my "help."  I tried to explain that I wasn't asking about summer plans because I wanted to control them, but so that I could make my own plans around any possibility of seeing them this summer, but this did not inspire more communication or information from said young person.  This same kid also informed me that I needed to stop asking about their friendships or other relationships because it was none of my business.  Ouch.

      Another one of my kids informed me that they did not need to be "pulled into my work," and they resented it when they had to "help" me by being present with my work in any way.  I pointed out that since they are working and yet not paying any rent, that perhaps their attendance at certain events (Easter Sunday?) could be seen as "rent" or contribution to the family, doing their part.  They said they'd rather pay rent.

      The third child, after being gone on a trip for almost a week, was rude and snippy when I picked her up at the airport, informing me that she didn't "need" to talk to me about her trip, and that she was not in the mood to answer any questions.  When we got home, she stomped off to her room, slammed the door and I haven't seen her since.  

       The subtitle of this particular blog post is "becoming an adult."  The one, though, who is being called to become an adult in all of this is me.  My kids are doing what they need to do to differentiate, to discover, to become who they need to be.  I know this.  I see it.  But I'll be honest and say that it is difficult for me to respond to this behavior in an adult way.  I want to respond by slamming MY door, by saying, "Fine.  If I am just a punching bag and a bank to you, this bank is going to start requiring something back to justify my paying for all of your fun and educational opportunities. I require you to be kind to me.  I require you to answer my questions.  I require you to be decent human beings to your mother!  If you can't do it, the bank is closed!"  But threatening, being nasty in kind: these are not adult behaviors.  It would be better if I could just say, "I am feeling hurt by the way you are speaking to me.  I would prefer it if you would choose a different tone of voice or different method of communication."  Being an adult means choosing not to threaten, choosing not to slam out and act out, choosing not to hit back when punched.  Being an adult means not moving into giving the silent treatment or becoming verbally aggressive in turn.  But boy, is this hard!

     You'd think that, at the age of 55, I would have learned by now how to be an adult.  But in so many ways, I feel my kids are pushing me to grow up in ways that are hard, painful, and sometimes feel beyond my abilities.  They are holding up a mirror for me, showing me that I have so much more work to do, so much more growing still to do.  

     I am grateful for the chances to continue to grow up, to continue to work on becoming the person I hope to be.  I am choosing to reframe their attitudes towards me as learning opportunities for myself.  We are all on a journey.  We can all choose how to see it and how to respond to it.  My hope is to grow and learn, to become an adult, even as they, too are becoming adults. We are in this together.  And in that realization I find comfort and hope.

Those hard parenting moments

        My eldest child is late to enter the "teens" officially.  What I mean by that is that the typical behaviors we associate with teenagers: rebelliousness, trying on different selves, bonding more with friends than with family, believing themselves to be so much smarter and more knowledgeable than their elders - my eldest has been late to arrive here.  But she is here now.  Oh boy, is she here now.  As a result, while my eldest is now officially "in her 20s", in reality, I have three teenagers.  And with COVID, it is a 24/7 kind of a deal.  There's no escaping this.  I can't go away for a weekend, or send one of them to spend the night at a friend's house.  Eldest should be away for her junior year at college, but she's been home now for almost a year and will no doubt continue through the summer at this point.  And while each of the kids can escape to their own room, there is no place for me to escape to.  I share my room, and my husband claims it during the day for his work space.  I'm in the common space then, and so when the teenagers are out in that space expressing their "teenage-dom", it is me who gets the full blast of it.  

      Don't get me wrong: for the most part I really enjoy my family.  I not only love each of them, but I truly LIKE each of them as well.  I have found myself grateful most of the time for the weird gift of this time when I get to be around them more, get to really be together with kids who will be gone all too soon.  And truly, for the most part my kids are very nice, interesting people.  They are caring and growing and learning and often still respect what I have to say, still value me as their parent.  But while this is mostly true, there are moments when the teenage attitude is utterly too much to deal with.  When I wake up to sarcasm, sass, and criticism, being told that they don't want me to talk to them at all, even when they are in the same room as me, when they pull away if I put my hand on their shoulder and shrug me off, when they clearly are trying to push my buttons and set me off - all of it when I can't step away easily, when there just isn't a place for me to escape to, sometimes it can simply be hard to take.  This behavior was hard to take when it began, but over this year long period it has become increasingly so.  

      I read an article recently that basically said that parents need to let teenagers act out in these horrible ways at home because they are "trying these things on" and if you allow them to behave this way at home, to act out their stress using you as their punching bag, that they will avoid behaving this way in public where it could truly damage relationships.  It went on to say that parents should, therefore, just put up with it, be graceful in the face of abuse because teens need to know that home is a safe place where they can act out their stress, and just be freely themselves without any risk or loss. 

     I call BULL on that article.  Absolute bull.  By accepting that kind of behavior, you teach a child that it is acceptable to be cruel and unkind to their loved ones.  We give them the false belief that there are no consequences to lashing out in inappropriate ways towards those who love them.  We teach them that elder-abuse (even verbal abuse) is somehow okay.  We also know that being a teenager is in many ways like being a toddler: their job is to push on the boundaries and figure out where they are.  It is, therefore, important that they actually find those edges, are given those boundaries, and are reminded that certain behaviors are not okay.  Being unkind is not okay now, or later, or ever; it's not okay with strangers, not with friends, and not even with family.  

    That doesn't mean that I will respond to their bad behavior with rejection or revenge.  We have to model appropriate responses to unkindness.  We have to model who we want them to choose to be.  But I also am not going to just sit by and allow the unkindness.  I will point it out.  "I really felt hurt when you made that comment."  I will protect myself.  "It isn't okay to say things in ways that intentionally hurt other people.  There are alternatives to expressing oneself with sarcasm and judgement, which are hurtful."  I will give them alternative ways to respond, "I would have had an easier time hearing that if you'd phrased it differently.  Perhaps in this way..."  I will help them to be self-reflective, "I'm wondering why you felt you needed to say that and why you chose to say it in that way.  Can you explain it better to me?"  And at times, I will just take myself for a walk because I need the break from it all.

     Most of all, I will just breathe...

     I don't get it right all the time.  My responses are not always those I want.  And when they aren't, that also gives me a chance to model apologizing and naming what I should have done differently in response as well.  It also allows me to model gentleness with myself and self-forgiveness, as well as forgiveness for their behaviors.   Some days that's easier.  Some days that's harder.  

    This "living with teens" is giving me a lot of opportunity to grow.   

    One day at a time, folk.  One day at a time...

Children's Sunday Sermon

Luke 18:15-17, Matthew 18:1-5

The disciples thought Jesus was too busy to bother with children, but they were wrong about that.  Jesus enjoyed children very much and the Bible tells us he was happy to spend time with children.

With the children ask: Children are very important at our church too.  Do you know this? 

Why do you think that children are important here?

How do you know that children are important here?

I want you to think of things the church does for kids and youth here. These don’t just happen on their own – people make these happen.  Who leads these programs? Why do you think all these people do this?  What is the main thing that you have learned here at church?  The folk who work with you here believe it is important for children to know and love God.  They want to share the love of Christ with you.

What do you give back to the church?  Back to God? 

Harder questions: What more should the church be doing for you?  What don’t we do that you think would be helpful to you?

What other thoughts do you have about today’s scriptures or about kids and church?

--

After the christening of his baby brother in church, Jason sobbed all the way home in the back seat of the car.  His father asked him three times what was wrong.  Finally, the boy replied, "That preacher said he wanted us brought up in a Christian home, and I wanted to stay with you guys."

            One of my pastor friends told me about a time he came to an intersection at which the lights were down and a police officer was directing traffic.  But as Leroy approached the intersection, he saw the officer doing this (one hand in “stop” and one hand pulling traffic towards him).  He was really confused by this gesture, as I’m sure any of us would be.  Was he being told to stop?  Was he being told to go forward? 

            Today’s scripture passage calls us to welcome the children to Jesus – to not turn them away from Jesus, to not declare that Jesus is too busy for them.  But I think, like the officer that Leroy encountered in the street, many of our churches send very mixed signals to our kids.  I think this is at least one reason why our youth often stop coming to church and as young adults and adults then rarely return.  What are some of the ways that churches do this, that churches send our children mixed messages?

            Churches declare that they want more young people in church, and then some work very hard to invite them to come.  But when they get in the door, what do these churches do?  Often churches don’t welcome children into worship – they send them to Sunday School, and often the Sunday School feels to the children like just one more day of instruction.  Some churches use translations of the Bible that are written in archaic language that the children don’t understand.  This, too, excludes them from Jesus. They cannot hear the message, they cannot understand the message. Churches do this with prayer as well.  At a SAFE service, I asked the children what the words to the Lord’s Prayer meant.  I asked them what “art” meant (Our Father who “art” in heaven), I asked them what “thy” and “thine” meant.  I asked them what “hallowed” meant.  The children don’t know these words because they aren’t modern English words.  They aren’t in use in our vocabulary any place except in an occasional prayer in church.  We have come to associate these words with holiness so we insist on using these words.  But “thine” was actually the ultra familiar term for “your” – when it was part of the English language, it was even less formal than “you”, not the way we insist on using it as a holy and formal word now.  When we insist on using old language and old translations for prayers, not only do we fail absolutely to capture the original Biblical meaning of the prayer (which again, was one of closeness and familiarity) but we also fail utterly to welcome our children to Jesus by using a code language in our prayers that they cannot and do not understand.  How is it welcoming children to Jesus to insist that they talk to Jesus in a language they don’t speak and can’t understand?

            Sometimes the “children’s time” in churches is really meant for the adults rather than the kids – the kids pick up on this when that happens and feel un-included when it does.

            In some places where children are included, they are expected to be absolutely silent and inactive in church.  While teaching good church behavior to our children is important, expecting them to be something they are not and cannot be is a way of excluding them from Jesus.  They can’t sit completely still or be completely silent.  When we accept this about them, even as we encourage and try to teach good behavior (just like at school), we welcome them to Jesus.

            Parents, grandparents and others can also be uncomfortable talking to our children about our own beliefs, why we do what we do, why we believe what we believe, and, more importantly, what difference it makes in our lives to have the faith we have and to be the church we strive to be.  Choosing to share with our children our faith stories and beliefs is crucial to inviting them to have faith lives of their own. 

A Sunday school teacher asked her children as they were on the way to church service, "And why is it necessary to be quiet in church?"
One bright little girl replied, "Because people are sleeping."

Being aware of the messages we send to the children by our actions as well as our words, sharing with the children our faith stories and why our faith matters to us, incorporating our faith in all aspects of our lives, radically, and showing how our relationships with Jesus make a difference in our lives – these are the ways that we welcome the children to Jesus, that we invite Jesus into their lives, that we open the door for them to be children of faith, passionate about their beliefs, and willing to live and to die for them.