On Call

I am a 21st century woman. I embrace all of the gadgets and devices that make modern life more convenient. My fireplace comes on with the flick of a switch. My garage door opens magically when I turn into my driveway. My dishwasher is currently doing my dishes, so I can sit here and blog guilt-free. I even have a facebook page.
But lately, I can't help wondering if all our bells and whistles are a blessing or a curse.
Recently, my daughter broke up with her boyfriend. Soon after, she started getting texts from strange people, giving her their two cents on how she should handle her love life. Some were just annoying, while others were downright rude! Then she got phone calls from a "withheld" number. The person wouldn't talk, just made weird noises or played recorded bits of voices from tv shows. And her email password stopped working. Things she'd emailed friends were suddenly known to her ex - with no explanation of how he knew.
Unsettling.
Scary.
As my husband and I took the necessary steps to find out what was going on and protect our child, we mused about how it came to this. Are kids really different these days? Maybe the rules of relationships we grew up with don't apply anymore?
Kids haven't changed. But technology has. Teenagers have always craved communication, but it hasn't always been so easy. We didn't text each other constantly, but we did write letters to each other during class. At home, phone time was limited because you were "tying up the line." If a boyfriend wanted to call me, he had to risk my dad answering the phone. Once, a boy prank called our house, saying in a breathless voice, "I want your bod!" He didn't know my mom was listening in. He soon found out! To this day, mom doesn't let me forget that phone call. (Thanks a lot, Jeff!)
My husband and I have been carried along with the rest of America on the technology wave. We went from two "parent-only" phones, to four nationwide, unlimited text, blackberry, blue-toothed phones.
And now, each of us is unequivocally available.
Comforting when Parker calls from the neighbor's backyard to tell me he'll be playing inside their house. Not so comforting when I see texts on his phone from a girl, asking at 11:00 at night if he's still awake cause she can't sleep. Should kids really be able to say whatever, whenever, with no fear of consequences?
And therein lies the real issue. Good parenting requires constant awareness. Whether it's intercepting letters via "snail mail" or collecting cell phones every night at bedtime, it's my job as a mom to know my kids...who they are, who they talk to, where they go. Ironically, with all the ways to check up and check in, a good, old-fashioned, open, healthy parent-child relationship is still the best way to keep them safe. Parenthood is a full-time job. And I'm happy to be on call.

Seriously?

I'm taking bets on how many empty rolls would stack up if I just let it go. I guess I'm going to have to fire the housekeeper.

Open House, Open Hearts

Like every mother, I try to teach my children to be kind, loving, empathetic. And they continually exceed my highest expectations. I am amazed at their ability to understand, comfort, and uplift others. Hillary recently gave up an entire Friday night to go with me to minister to the young girls at Boys and Girls Town. She smiled, chatted, and sat hunched over for more than an hour, painting designs on bitten fingernails...bringing a bit of beauty into scarred and broken hearts with her art and sunshine personality.
And when my sister came to our house, needing a soft place to land for a few days, Parker immediately offered his own room, saying that his room was the darkest and she might need the extra help to sleep. He helped me clean and arrange everything to provide the most comfort possible.
This weekend, we had more visitors. Our house held a few extra girls and a couple of dogs. Far from complaining about "their" stuff or space, my kids shared their home and hearts (and parental attention). They petted the dogs and played with the sweet four-year-old girl who made us laugh with her antics. As often happens, our guests commented on how peaceful our home felt. I don't think that's an accident. It's because of our family's conscious effort to be used of God to minister to everyone who comes through our door. My husband and I have tried to teach our children that everything we have is a gift and we are priviledged to share our blessings. So to see them living out our lessons with open hearts makes my heart sing.

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

One of the hardest things about your kids getting older is watching them move in and out of relationships that you have little or no control over. You teach them the best you can, model a loving relationship in front of them, gently offer subtle advice, and pray...a lot.
After a run of short-term boyfriends in junior high, and one "bad boy" kind of boyfriend her freshman year, Hillary finally found the one that could be "just right." We quickly came to love the quiet, guitar-playing, brown-haired boy because the two of them just seemed to have so much fun together. They were easy to be around...drama-less and naively happy.
But teen years are kind of like dog-years...outside the normal span of grown-up time...and a lot can happen in a year and 4 months. People change, grow, see new horizons opening up in front of them. And it's not surprising that such young "love" couldn't stand up to it.
Not that that makes it any less painful.
So as some good things must do, it came to an end this week. And while I hate to see my child hurt, I am so proud of her. She is handling things with a grace and maturity we haven't seen before. Her relationship with God is strong and she seems to know where she's going, even though it means giving up a boy - a display of faith I've seen grown women unable to grasp.
It makes me less fearful as I begin to loosen the apron strings and get ready to send her off to college next year. She can make the right decisions - even when it's hard.

Rain Man

I slogged through the drizzle, my umbrella doing absolutely no good, and delivered first graders to their cars. All I wanted to do was go home, get dry, and sit on the couch sipping coffee. But instead I had to pick Parker up from school, stop by the grocery store, return some DVDs, cook supper, and deliver supper (Yancy and Hillary were going to the basketball game so I had to take their vittles to the school). Uggh...I HATE rain.
I pulled up to the middle school, and Parker came loping out. He had a HUGE smile on his face. He threw his oversized bag into the back seat, plopped his rear into the front seat, and said, "I LOVE rain!" I just rolled my eyes and asked him how his day had gone.
After several stops and in-and-out errands in the mist, we finally pulled into our own driveway. I turned to him and said, "Since you like the rain so much, how bout getting the mail for me."
"Sure" he said with a smile.
He got out and I pulled on down to the garage, got out of the car, went in the house, and got the bacon out of the fridge. Still no Parker. Our driveway is not that long. I looked out the door. He was walking as slowly as humanly possible, letting the mist hit his face and make diamonds in his curly hair. He didn't seem to care that my junk mail was getting damp and spotted. He was just enjoying the moment and making it last.
I swear I felt the sun shining on me!

Taking It

I have learned many lessons from my kids. Some about joy. Some about pain.
A couple of years ago, Parker had a bike wreck. He was goaded into taking his bike off an 18 inch ramp by our cute but devilish neighbor. The bike went up...and Parker went down...faceplanting into the dirt.
Later, in the emergency room, he writhed and cried and squeezed my hand while they scrubbed his raw face and flushed his eye by placing a plastic tube onto his eyeball and forcing fluid through it. I couldn't stop the pain...turn back time...take his place. I could only sit with him in his pain. It was tough. But it was eventually over. We went home with bandages, pain medicine, and the peace of mind that a clear x-ray gives.
As he lay on the bed, watching tv that night, he suddenly squeezed his eyes shut and started shaking his leg hard and fast. My sister, who happened to be visiting that weekend, asked him what he was doing. He replied, through clenched teeth, "I'm trying to take it!" It was funny. But true.
So this weekend, when that same sister came through my door, emotionally "wrecked" by the crash of her marriage, I did what I could do. I couldn't stop the pain...turn back time...take her place. But I could sit with her in her pain. And when we cry, shout, eat or don't eat, pray, sleep or don't sleep...don't be surprised. We're just trying to take it.
It will be tough. But eventually it will be over. And we will go on with strength, scars, and the peace of mind that a loving God gives.