JOURNEY: Education for Life

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“Our education and schools should not be so overly focused on learning. It is the wrong aspiration for our students, despite centuries of academic tradition. If we were to focus instead on helping all students be the very best and most capable people they can be, our kids’ education and our society would be light-years ahead of where they are now.”
“The Goal of Education Is Becoming” By Marc Prensky

 

As an advocate for education, I would have told you a year ago that I believed and lived this. For more than a decade I have invested in the educational world of our girls. I have served in most capacities offered to parents. I have mentored students in and out of school settings. I have advocated for teachers and administrators, and partnered in seeing that every child has the opportunity to be who they were created to be.

Before we even had children, my husband and I chose a home in a public school district that we believed could provide challenge and opportunities for the family we hoped to build. When it came time for our children to go to kindergarten, the neighborhood elementary was a second home. For the next 9 years, I invested and partnered to make school a home away from home. It was not always perfect or easy, but that’s life. We faced challenges and aimed for success.

As we transitioned to middle school, new ideas and faces and expectations were part of the journey. Our girls have both been nurtured in a smaller learning community that our district offers. The leadership and teachers in that program were a great fit for us. Even with normal middle school woes, both girls found avenues for individual growth. Little thought and planning went into educational steps in this season. For high school, we followed the natural feeder pattern of our district to a campus with more than 2,000 students.

Our oldest daughter is a passionate, loving thinker. She is an old soul in the best possible way. She loves caring for those who need help. Very few of her life-giving passions are held in sacred regard to the majority of teenagers. She could care less about brand names or social gatherings. She is more likely to be found with a 2 year-old in her arms or advocating for legislative reform. She is well read, interested in global issues and can write a better positional paper than most college students. At 16.

While these traits make remarkable high-level college scholars, they can make for lonely weekends and lunch conversations at most American high schools. Add to this challenge the pervasive diseases of depression and anxiety and you set up a situational disaster. For most teens, finding your place and your people is the goal of independence. Under the best of conditions, this season is hard. When you add a constant internal and worldly message that you “don’t fit” to a mental health condition, you set up a losing situation. That is where we found ourselves at the beginning of sophomore year.

The exterior was precious. A beautiful, 5’9″ blond, smart, talented young woman. But being a well spoken, determined, academic powerhouse is no match for paralyzing anxiety attacks coupled with the fear of crowds in the hallways of a huge high school. Even classes that were once her favorites like choir and debate proved to be unmanageable in the face of normal teenage immaturity and insensitivity towards anyone that is slightly different.

As someone who has walked the road of mental health challenges, I know firsthand that the brain is a brilliant and wicked machine. It can propel and destroy with equal power. And there is no quick fix. Time and therapy and medication and space and skills cannot return you to “normal” in 3.2 days. It is not a virus, that 24 hours post symptoms, will allow you to take your AP World History test.

When the need to change educational environments was clear, we frantically began searching for alternatives. We were 6 weeks into 10th grade and the district that had always worked for our family could no longer meet her needs. We needed an immediate path forward and the desperation and hopelessness was heavy. Things reached such a point of panic that our daily goal was functionality. No longer could we think about next year or college or beyond. Just weeks before, we had been on the Duke campus with a wide-eyed dream of a big, wonderful collegiate future. We were now in crisis management, with the enormous goal of choosing to live – which in moments seemed impossible.

We read. We studied all of the options we could find. We chose an online school that looked good. We talked to their team and we felt that Laurel Springs School would give us the most space to grow and take care of her health. At the same time, she would not have to sacrifice academics. We were committed to taking nothing away in her dreams for the future. We needed her to know that we had her back no matter the road ahead.

The decision was made to start 10th grade over. It was November before she was stable enough to really concentrate on school. The transition was not without bumps in the road. Self-regulation and time management were key. No longer did a tardy bell designate the start of the school day. More often, it was a not-so-gentle reminder to choose to live fully. With each passing day, we found a school rhythm and were able to engage in things that gave her life and purpose.

As a 6th grader, Anna Jane co-founded a charity called Dolls For All. Because of our choice to do online school, she was able to devote more of her time to developing relationships in the community and beyond. What before had been a fun Christmas-time focus, became a year round organization of hope dealing – both for the children that received dolls and for the one working to make it possible. Helping others became the pivot point on days when we were headed down dark paths. She added other mentoring opportunities with local children to her day-to-day schedule, as well. Being on a completely self-directed schedule allowed for flexibility in every area.

For so many reasons, the transition to Laurel Springs has changed our family. In November…and beyond…I was terrified. Was this the right decision? Can we find happiness? Is she going to be challenged? Yes! Yes! Yes!

img_2221.jpgWe have just completed the End Of Year Celebration with Laurel Springs in Orlando. Once a year, students from around the world come together to celebrate high school milestones like National Honor Society induction, graduation and prom. This year, we had a family field trip day at Disney’s Magic Kingdom. All of these things were wonderful, but the highlight was meeting the team of administrators and dedicated staff that make Laurel Springs a success. I cannot express how impressed I was with the passion and love for learning they displayed. But the BEST part was the desire to see every student meet their personal potential.

Every time we met a new face, they asked us (and most importantly, Anna Jane) why she chose LSS. They inquired about her as a person. They want HER to succeed. You knew that from every interaction. If the goal of education is ‘becoming,’ LSS is exactly what #TeamHilbrich needed. Education is not a one-size-fits-all system. I had no idea just how ill-fitting traditional large brick and mortar high school was for our daughter.

But, you should see her now. No, things are not perfect. But she is thriving and dreaming. She is more confident. She knows that she has a place of belonging. She feels successful. As a mom, that is the greatest joy. To know that I have helped my child ‘become’, is to know that I have been her partner in education and life.

If your child is not thriving in traditional school, please don’t assume that you just have to push through. Explore your options. Believe that there are options! I resisted this change for so long. I joked about how I would never have my kids home with me all day for school. I wrongly assumed that alternative educational options meant sacrificing academics and rigor. I was wrong. Education is so much more than math and reading. We owe it to our kids to explore and invest in education the way we do their sports teams and our own job searches. May we help our kids be the best people they can be, because that is the heart of great education.

 

Journey 2018: Self-Reflection

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Last week, after the tragedy in Santa Fe, I found myself incredibly weary. Unlike my friend Coby, I was not planning to spend Monday on a kayak. That is not sabbath or rest for me. I instead devoted Monday to writing and reconnecting with God.  At 10:45am, I was at my computer typing and these were the words on my screen:

We live 16 miles from Santa Fe High School. Our communities cross many lines of connection. I have written letters and advocated and marched about gun violence after many of the horrific school shootings of the past 19 years. I was teaching during Columbine, and I will never forget the fear. But somehow, this one, was like a punch in my momma gut like no other. 

At 11:03, Mail alerted me of an email from my 7th grader’s school and I clicked on it:

This morning a student reported to an Assistant Principalthat another student had brought a weapon to school. The student was found in possession of an unloaded handgun and was immediately arrested by the Galveston County Sheriff Liaison Officer stationed at the campus. I realize this news is unsettling in light of recent events. School is continuing as scheduled today.

In that moment, I knew very little. But, I knew that nothing was continuing as scheduled. Nothing. My “schedule” became a 48-hour lament and confession and time of self-reflection. There were tears and prayers and lots of questions. 

The answers were clear to questions like:

Was I resentful? Selfish? Afraid? YES. All of the above.

The harder questions, like “Did I promptly admit when I was wrong today?” and “Was I kind and loving towards all?” – these took days to face. It took time for me to tune my Spirit back to a place where I could answer truthfully about my thoughts and actions.  I even spent about 24 hours this week wanting to teach from the place of hurt and lament rather than the pattern and rhythm of discipline. 

Because I have things to say. 
Important things. 
Things that matter. 

But let me tell you about the miracle. The miracle of discipline is that self-reflection is an established foundational cornerstone of my everyday life. And sure, there are days when I need to lament and hurt and feel and not have it all worked out. But what in years past would have taken me down a path of resentment and retribution and a fear rollercoaster of emotional numbing proportion, instead became a week of prayer and confession to my partin this reality. And a call to action.

Let me share a word from the prophet Jeremiah, Chapter 15:

Why is my pain unending and my wound grievous and incurable?
You are to me like a deceptive brook, like a spring that fails.
Therefore this is what the Lord says:
“If you repent, I will restore you that you may serve me;
if you utter worthy, not worthless, words, you will be my spokesman."

Do you see it?

This was my week.

Monday and Tuesday:
Why? Where are you? We are literally dying, God?
“Why is my pain unending and my wound grievous and incurable?”

 Wednesday: After some quality self-reflection and an opportunity to be still and ask hard questions
“If you repent, I will restore you”

Thursday and Friday: as I committed to living a changed life
“if you utter worthy, not worthless, words, you will be my spokesman.”

There is not one thing in my humanity that naturally moves me from fear and anger to peace and hope. Not one thing. Only when I do the hard work of training my heart and mind and soul to hear from and trust God, can I find myself in a place to utter worthy words.

The process of admitting my shortcomings, my failure, my desperate hard heart is the path to reconciliation and hope. And in my experience, that cannot happen without the intentional step of choosing. CHOOSING to look at the ways that we separate ourselves from God’s best for creation. 

Do I have an immediate fix for school shootings and senseless violence? NO

Can I make the immediate changes that are necessary to help my kids feel safe? Not always

But can I show them how to better handle their anxiety and loneliness and hurt? You bet I can. 

I can sit still and listen for something other than the pop culture response.
I can choose to ask for wisdom in my life.
I can modela changed life – what it looks like to seek guidance and confess my mistakes.

And, I can act justly and love mercy and walk humbly with all that I am so that when I have weeks like this, my pattern of practice is so ingrained that my mind does not have to ‘say what’s next?’ Instead, my soul has the well-worn discipline to continually long to journey towards the heart and the will of God. That’s why I believe in spiritual practices and disciples. Because left on my own, I’m a hopeless case. And when I practice the disciplines, I know that God will meet me there. 

Let me show you a little evidence of that. Friday night, I was tired. Again on Friday morning, I dropped my daughter at school and prayed and breathed. About 9:20am my phone alerted me to a shooting at a middle school in Indiana. Thankfully, I had already planned to pick Ally up at 10:30am after her exam. Even with my chickens in my care, we had a long day ahead. 

Some great things. Some super challenging things. At 5:30 that night, I was driving back from Houston. As we drove the bypass from the tollway to I-45, a bright, clear rainbow was covering the Bay Area. 

As we drove closer, this came into view. 

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I know that you cannot tell from the picture, but from my view, one rainbow looked to be touching League City and the other was touching the area around Santa Fe. 

God met me there. 
In the Dick’s Sporting Goods parking lot. 
Through a Biblical image of promise. 
And God longs to meet you, too. 
Wherever you may be today. 

JOURNEY: The Sandwich

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In the early 80’s, a sociological term was coined to the describe those that were sandwiched between caring for the needs of aging parents and their own children. I can remember hearing the term in my classes and scoffing at the thought that a) my super capable parents would ever need help and b) that my parents would arrive at that place while my children were young enough to need care. Both have happened.

Fortunately, the season of life that I find myself in gives me the gift of journeying through the first pass of care giving with my ever-capable mom as a rock. It is my dad’s body that is failing. At the same time, at 12 and 16, the girls in the great chasm of adolescence. With a debit card and a driver’s license, they can solve most problems all on their own. Sure, they can act a fool, but without a doubt, my ability to walk steadily at my parent’s side is in no small part due to Ally and AJ’s independent and determined spirits.

May 3rd was a prime example of the way that life in the middle of the sandwich works. Dad was scheduled for a quick outpatient procedure. In an attempt to be overly cautious, we planned for a 20 hour hospital stay. I woke up that morning and ran school carpool. After swinging by the house to get online school up and running for the day, I headed to the med center to be with my parents. My plan was to stay that night in the hospital room with dad so that mom could get some needed rest at the hotel attached to the hospital. Surgery was completed and dad was sent to his room about 4:30pm.

Throughout the day, my girls both asked for regular updates. One wants just basic facts. The other needs to know the ‘how’s’ and the ‘why’s’ of every decision. The sandwich-y part of that challenge falls in the moments of truth. How much is too much? My girls are incredibly perceptive. They are listening even when no words are being spoken. They have learned about the myeloma that plagues Dad’s blood and the failure that has taken his renal function. They know the numbers that are alarming and the hard realities of what lies ahead. They also ADORE their Mimi and Papa, and watching the toll of this road is hard on their developing hearts. So, like I do on a daily basis, I answered with truth and tempered all things through their age appropriate lens.

If my parents and my kids are the bread of my sandwich, I am the over processed lunch meat. The demands of this season are intense. And with the best of intentions, life gets very uphill. Sleep suffers. Worry increases. Caffeine intake escalates. Long baths become vital. Frequent calls and texts with my siblings and dear friends are precious. And on the hardest of the days, I thank my precious Savior for giving vision and creativity to the GIF library in my iPhone. I would not last a day of our hospital stays in my sarcastic head without that feature and my knitting needles.

As with all well planned, quick medical stops in the last year, this one was not what we had hoped for.  Twenty hours turned to a week of in-patient care. By the time we left the hospital, we knew the surgical nurses by name. With 3 OR trips, regular visits to the hemodialysis floor and a plethora of new specialists to help us navigate challenges, we press on. And by WE, I mean all of us. You cannot have a sandwich without the key ingredients. When one of us is suffering, we all feel the pain.

What I cannot yet explain in well formulated words is the weight of my mid-sandwich place. On one hand, the foundational grounding of my life is changing. My dependable, predictable, secure bottom layer of bread is not the same. For more than 40 years, I have rested the weight of my rotten tomatoes, moldy lettuce, and even the gourmet bacon on the trusted knowledge that no matter the condition, my bottom bread could bring out the best in my flavor. In the same breath, I am watching the top layer of bread, that which I have often seen as decorative and even fragile, developing with great determination and control. Bering the responsibility of holding our form and containing the ever-changing meat of worn out emotions,  I have seen my girls thrive and even soar in the midst of finding their place in the order-less chaos.

The good news is that my Daddy taught me to love a sandwich. I never acquired a taste for his peanut butter/jelly and mayo version, but I love a fancy, unique, creative sandwich. Sometimes I add new flavors that I instantly regret. Other times, I find a delicacy like Panera’s Bacon Turkey Bravo or Jason’s Deli’s Ham It Up that forge a permanent place of honor in my meat loving mind. Whatever next weeks or next months hold for us, I cannot thank God enough for the gift of being sandwiched between people whom I dearly love and that make me the very best version of myself.

 

The Hands I Hold

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I have been blessed with many mentors in my life. While I won’t go into each relationship, I will tell you about the first teenager that poured into me. Bop, or Elizabeth Jones, was my first and youngest babysitter. She also happened to be one of my mom’s youth group kids. Those kids were almost all of the teenage influences I had when I was little. Bop would come over everyday she could and take me where ever I wanted to go.rPIqZ6lxRiut69Q7u1FLkQ
She loved me probably more than I loved her, which is a lot harder than it sounds. She would take me to her house and we would watch movies, specifically Up!, which quickly became one of my favorites. She would indulge in my crazy love for weird TV characters and did all the crafts with me.
I cannot explain how much her love for me made me comfortable around other people. Even though she moved away before middle school, I still managed to make it to Austin to spend my thirteenth birthday with her. We watched movies and did crafts and even though I was growing up, I felt like the little girl.
Now I am the teenager. While I still think I’m seven, I can now drive my homeschool friends around for lunch. I met Madeline when I was 9, a wee little thing. Everyone thought I was completely grown up because I was the oldest kid in our group. She is now 12 and one of the coolest people I know. I have happily taken on the role of her adopted older sister.IMG_0537
I love the person she is and the person I get to see her become. While she may think I hung the moon, she is one of the most independent and fierce kids I know. I may or may not have told her and my other homeschool buddy that they will be the next generation of everything I am establishing in Houston when I go to college. She is my favorite sixth grader I can’t believe I have known her for almost seven years.
It is one of the coolest things to see how just giving a child your attention can make them feel so confident and brave and honest. She is the kid who made me love kids over the age of 5, and getting to grow up ahead of her has given me the ability to give her all of the secrets that she needs to know. It’s pretty cool to see how I can make her feel special – the way that I felt when Bop was with me.

Spirits, Dreams and Visions

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If Pentecost is a season on unrestrained joy, then there is but one clear moment that gave me the light of hope and the promise of resurrection. It was the Fall of 2009. I was growing new skin. New life was beautiful and in bloom. I honestly cannot recall the details around the origins of the idea, but somewhere in the midst of deconstructing a good party, I needed to reinvent a long love of my heart – the costume.

Lucas and I went on a blind date to a costume party. I have been known to coordinate all the adults in the family to dress with the ONE child as the centerpiece of an ensemble. I LOVE a costume. I also love the idea of redeeming the foolish scare fest of Halloween with the laughter friendly excuse for absurdity. With our trusty partners in crime, Lee Ann plugand Jake, the Hilbrich crew set out to begin a new tradition of costume fun. Everyone bought into the idea. Friends and kids and more friends began to dream of costumes and creativity. At the time, our kids were 7 and 4. We could never get away with such things in their teen years, but that night, we threw caution to the wind and gave our guests a giggle. Plug and socket was one of my favorite couple’s costumes of all time. We laughed and most importantly enjoyed watching our friend’s reactions when we were seen together.

That night, we cleared the living room furniture, learned the “Thriller” choreography and had the most fun. We did all of this without a drop of alcohol. I can remember the discussion about our menu for the event. It was important to my co-hosts that we create an environment where everyone could be comfortable and themselves, and that included me. With the tradition of our Halloween party, my family reimagined celebration. Truly, this experience became a night of joy. It was the vision and hope of a new life that was not devoid of laughter and fun. Rather it was a place where no spirits were needed to enjoy all the silliness that life has to offer.

I had no idea in 2009 that this tradition would become a staple of our family. The activities have changed. The crowd has aged. One year, we all wore homemade costumes and donated all of our costume money to charity. Some years, the party has moved outside and included the neighborhood. We have even had a swim Halloween after party. And as all good parties should, we have even had the cops show up. I thoroughly enjoyed answering the door that night and explaining to the officer that not only were we not teenagers, but we had no alcohol. We are so wild. Beginning the first year, the kids judged the costume contest. Conveniently, their favorite young adult wins every year. Some things never change.

 

This past Halloween we decided that perhaps the tradition had run its course. With many other activities filling our schedules, we did not plan a full weekend affair. As the time grew closer, my kids kept asking, “What are we going to be for Halloween?” I IMG_3274realized that this was more than a grown-up party. This tradition is a legacy of friendship. It is the hope and the promise that very different lives and many lasting stories, have intersected in the cul-de-sac of Sunset Ridge in full costume glory. With little pre-party prep, we held a Trunk-or-Treat this year and invited all who wanted to partake for some Halloween night (and Astros watching) fun. And thanks to a glue gun wielding 12-year-old, the spirit of Halloween is still as thrilling in our family as the coming of the Spirit on the day of Pentecost.

 

Reaching Up and Reaching Down

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“Show me a successful individual and I’ll show you someone who had real positive influences in his or her life. I don’t care what you do for a living—if you do it well I’m sure there was someone cheering you on or showing the way. A mentor.” — Denzel Washington

I owe all that I am to those that took time to invest in my heart, my pain, my dreams and my failures. To the countless women and men that stretched and pushed and aided me in dreaming a bigger dream, I am indebted. This week’s topic on Double Vision is dedicated to the many brave, wise guides that have invested hours in coffee shops and dorm rooms and church offices. To those who have committed to life learning – from those that were ahead of them in this journey and those that were following in their shadows. To the mentors and mentees that have blessed my life and story, this is for you.

IMG_4285I was still in high school when I first realized that someone was looking up to me. While I understood little of this responsibility, I had already seen the difference that adults and older youth were making in my life. I watched and listened. I asked questions. I was a student of life. From being the beneficiary of wisdom and guidance, I developed an appreciation for the mentoring relationship at an early age.

No doubt, this played heavily into my call to be imbedded in a helping profession. I cannot imagine anyone feeling compelled to lead in the Church today out of their own strength. The best pastors, doctors, therapist and teachers I know have one thing in common. When asked why they do what they do, the answer usually includes a hat tip to someone who showed them how do be a servant. The most attentive friends have had a good friend. The most healthy marriages have a model of real strength to learn from. We need to learn from each other.

From the time that I could set my own schedule, I have prioritized reaching up and reaching down. I still need mentors. I sit regularly with friends that I admire their leadership and teaching and writing skills. I learn from the way that they prioritize and love and serve. I use these relationship to fill my soul and push me to believe things about myself that I can’t always see. This is what I mean by reaching up. They help me become who God created me to be.

In equally important ways, I intentionally reach down. It is a bad week when I don’t have at least one coffee date or a call or text exchange with someone who I know has been placed in my life to encourage their growth. Some of these are formal, sought out, mentoring relationships. Others have been connected in friendship and a shared love for a topic and have grown to mutually depend on each other for maturity. For instance, I came to know a dear friend as a co-conspirator in all things mommy-world, but in reality she has mentored my dependence on prayer in ways that I didn’t know to ask for. I would not be the pastor or teacher that I am today without her leadership.

There is one special aspect of mentoring that I cannot shake. Try as I might, I just can’t let go of my passion for watching young women dream. There is a miraculous thing that happens when a woman is freed to be who she was created to be. This miracle cannot be duplicated. And yet, we live in a world that is flooded with messages of defeat and shame belittling. The time and the space of living in that calling has changed over the years. The number of hours that I have logged at Starbucks are too many to count. The conversations on wholeness and soul tending are innumerable. The meals that I have shared while lamenting lost love or broken dreams are endless.

I have been called to pull hope from the bottom of a Xanax bottle. I have prayed peace over severed relationships as I drove away from heartbreaking lunch tales. I have spent hours driving circles in my neighborhood so I could get in five more minutes of friendship as I was driving home. These moments are a priority for me because they have been, and will always be, some of the greatest joys and relationships of my life.

When I began investing in mentoring, there was a hidden gift that would take years to uncover. It is especially true for those women that I knew as teenagers. As I began to share my life and my family, many saw the value that reaching up and down provides. Often, I would invest in a young woman and she would get to know my daughters. As they grew, both AJ and Ally have seen that mom has friends of all ages and interests. Some are older. Some have kids. Some really love to play with them. And more often than not, these precious relationships have built a legacy of continued reaching.

As I reached into a young woman’s life, she began reaching into my daughter’s. With this pattern of legacy established, I am now seeing the next generation of reaching! Often I find myself a bit misty eyed when I see my girls value this same connectedness to the children of those that reached down to them. This ongoing, gift giving wonder of love provides the greatest of life’s cheerleaders. I can’t wait for you to hear about how AJ has seen mentoring lived and is now living it out in her own life. Don’t miss Thursday’s post
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What is Pentecost?

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For many modern-day/American/protestant believers, Pentecost is forgotten Sunday. Often overshadowed by Mother’s Day or Senior Sunday in the formal worship service, the celebration of Pentecost is lost. I am more and more convinced that this special day needs an invigorating dose of attention and celebration.Related image

Pentecost is the day in which followers of Jesus commemorate the coming of the Holy Spirit on the early disciples. Before the events of the first Pentecost, there were followers of Jesus, but no movement that could be meaningfully called “the Church.” From a historical point of view, Pentecost is often depicted as the day the Church started.

Pentecost is celebrated on the Sunday that falls on the 50th day of Easter. The feast remembers the coming of the Holy Spirit following the Crucifixion, Resurrection, and Ascension of Jesus Christ. The second chapter of the book of Acts is the story of the first Pentecost and marks the beginning of the Church’s mission to the world. The traditional liturgical color is red, and I must say that the depiction of fire has always drawn me to this day.

This feast day was previously celebrated by the Jewish community as the Feast of Weeks. During this feast, the streets of Jerusalem were clogged with thousands of pilgrims who had come from everywhere to celebrate the goodness of God and the bringing in of the wheat harvest. Even in our modern context, this feast day is celebrated by some churches worldwide with an emphasis that it is second only to Easter. The celebration is one of limitless joy in the midst of what often becomes a post-resurrection return to the mundane rhythms of life. But Pentecost reminds us of the gift of God’s indwelling. It is a day of promise that no matter how dark the darkness may get, there is a light of hope and of connection. Pentecost has been a day for baptisms. Often churches celebrate their Confirmation classes joining the church and lift high the focus of the birth of the Church as a way to remind all in their community of the blessings of being connected together in the Holy Spirit’s work.

So how do you have a PENTECOST moment? When I set out to pray over my story and the detailed meanings behind each of the liturgical seasons depicted in my own journey, this was the most thought-provoking. I kept asking myself, “At what point did the uncontainable energy of God’s Spirit alive in my life fill my community with unexplainable joy?” These are the kinds of things that I think about often. (I know. I know.)

But we all have these moments. Ones that are filled with so much celebration. I often see them as a great time – a joy filled party – but rarely do I give the movement of God credit for the fiesta. I appreciate the decor, the host, the meal and even the wardrobe choices. I see the cake or the event as the focus rather than the Spirit of the day. My Pentecost moment, like much of my story, is unique. It is life-giving. It is soul filling. There were spirits and celebrations and dances and even some excellent apparel. Just like the early disciples, I had no idea how one moment of sheer celebration would shape my life.

 

 

I Don’t Want to be a Teenager Today, Either

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IMG_1078So, I am a teenager in the digital age. The technology alone is terrifying. Technology has a way to influence your perspectives and take control of your opinions. As my mom said, she would never try to be a teenager today. Sadly I had no choice in the matter, but I would agree that I also do not want to be a teenager at the moment.

1. What’s the hardest thing about being a teenager in 2018?
This one is not that hard because it has one of the most obvious answers: technology and lack of privacy. There is nothing that happens that the rest of the world doesn’t already know about. When I left Creek, I completely stopped posting on all social media accounts because I didn’t want to hear what other people had to say about my decision. This has changed not only the way I look at social media, but also how I look at the perspective in which I see other people’s lives through social media. There is hardly any truth behind each picture posted. What you don’t see is the fight that girl had with her mom over her outfit or the sunburn that came after posing for that many bikini selfies. It’s hard to look past what you see on social media and online, but if you focus on the facade people put up online, then you spend your life comparing yourself to someone that isn’t real.

2. If you could tell adults one insight to your generation, what would it be?
That my generation is very good at hiding things, even when a parent thinks they already know. Whether it be their relationship status or their emotional stability, adults can be easily fooled by what social media is telling them. So many people are convinced that a person’s Instagram is their real life. In reality, it is the life they want others to see. This can be especially hard when people are posting online about their personal struggles because you can never tell what is real and what is for attention. Often, the struggles teens face come from their need to project an image of themselves. You cannot understand anything about a teen by looking at their posts or reading their Facebook status.

3. What’s your relationship to your cell phone?
I actually have a really good and healthy relationship with my phone now, but it has been a really hard thing to learn. It’s so easy to get caught up in your view of other people on social media and that can kill all mental stability. I used to scroll through Instagram feeling left out from stuff and it would kill my self confidence. I keep my phone out of my room after my shower at night and I only get up to look at it once I am actually awake and ready to face the day. I have also purposefully left my phone behind at my house a lot because I know I will enjoy things more without the distraction. In the last few months, I have really struggled with personal phone boundaries, but it was something I had to learn in order to be successful.

4. Is there such thing a “normal” teenager?
I mean, I guess there is the image of the “normal” teen that movies paint a picture of, but there is not one teenager in high school that lives the teen life that everyone sees in a movie. High school is a hard and scary time even if you enjoy being a teenager and so many kids try to live up to what the TV shows them that they forget to have fun. It’s very easy to get caught up in expectations, especially as a teenager.

5. Why do so many parents and kids have such a hard time in these years?
There is such a gap between what parents see and what is actually happening. Parents are also so convinced that they understand what teens are going through but no generation before us has ever grown up with the technology we have. A fight over a boy is no longer just a school thing, people take their issues to social media and have to go home just to see what they were trying to escape. There is no separation between school, drama, news, and family life. That is something that makes it very difficult to feel confident in your decisions and daily actions. Without that confidence, teens turn to different coping mechanism that force distance between parents and their kids.

P!nk: Resurrection Through Music

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In September of 2007, less than 6 months sober, I went to Las Vegas…like you do. It was with a purpose. I was going to see Justin Timberlake. It was the Future Sex/Love Sound tour and one of my favorites, P!nk was his opener. Seriously, this was like a mission. Unfortunately, P!nk did not open for this small leg of the tour. Unfortunately, P!nk was not going to Vegas. Unfortunately, Good Charlotte was. For the record, JT was worth the trip, but I was super disappointed as I had already become a P!nk super-fan.

I was intrigued with her solo debut. I was totally impressed on the “Moulin Rouge” soundtrack. But then she released Missundaztood, I was hooked. Sure, the pop danceable beats made for great car jams, but songs like “Just Like a Pill” and “Family Portrait” told me that I needed more from this female badass. Her third album was less of a record breaker but there was this one song, “If God Was a DJ.” She made me dance and laugh and enjoy some great bass playing.

But THEN, she outdid herself with her fourth and fifth albums, I’m Not Dead and Funhouse. There was no irony lost on me in the timing of either of these albums. At all. There are many songs on these albums that stir things inside me, but there are two songs that just tied 2006-2008 together. “I Have Seen the Rain” (a song that she recorded with her dad) and “Sober” (need I explain?) wrapped all the hurt and pain and crazy into a musical collection.

I wrote a song called “Sober”, which is actually really dark. I was at a party at my own house, I didn’t want to be there, I didn’t want anyone else there. And I had this line in my head saying, ‘How do I feel this good sober?’, it’s not just about alcohol, it’s about vices, we all have different ones. We try to get away from ourselves, and find our ‘true selves’ and then we do these things that take us so far from the truth, I guess that ‘Sober’ is ‘How do I feel this good when it’s just me, without anything to lean on?’.    -P!nk

On September 24, 2009, I finally got to see my first P!nk concert. I went with 5 of my favorite people in the world. I danced and sang and wore pink hair gel. I love music. I P!nkhave one of the most eclectic playlists. It jumps from Amy Grant to Dr. Dre and back to John Michael Montgomery without pause. But there is not another artist that can depict my highs and pissed moods and dance parties and lowest of lows like she can. And her shows! The first one I saw was the Funhouse tour. She was wild and gentle and sexy and mad and so very strong. The way she sang “Glitter in the Air” had me wanting that physical and spirit strength. This was a holy moment.

I saw her again on the Truth About Love Tour in 2013. This time I went with all girls. So great! I wore epic shoes. I sang and sang. And, I learned a very important lesson. I cannot see P!nk without being close enough to dance and sing and be in the middle of the show. The top section of the Toyota Center just did not work out for me when it came to this show. So I waited. And for the record, 3 times in almost 10 years is just not enough to Lee Lee Pinkexperience the joy I feel at these shows. BUT! This Saturday, I get to see her on her latest tour for the album Beautiful Trauma. When the tickets were released, I sat with my pre-sale code to get them. I bought two.

I have spent the last 6 months counting down. I have teased and threatened about who would be attending with me this time. Just tonight, Lucas asked, “Have you decided?” Here is the final announcement: Anna Jane, it’s your turn. But, my sweet child, if you act like I am embarrassing (I will be), if you expect me to sing quietly (I won’t) or if you tell me that it was not the most wonderful concert that you have ever been to in your whole concert-filled existence, we may have a moment. When we get home, you can tell your dad whatever you need to, but as for me and my house, we will come back to life via P!nk.

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“The tough girl part of me would say she doesn’t give a shit what anybody thinks -but she’s small compared to the other part now. She keeps getting smaller. Although she’s always ready to get big again. And that bitch is crazy.” -P!nk

I Don’t Want to Be a Teenager Today

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Let’s just deal in facts for a moment. Want an eye-opening experience? Read the article, “The Truth About Trouble Teens” By Amy Morin, LCSW. Here a just a few of the hard facts:

In The Next 24 Hours in the United States:
1,439 Teens will attempt suicide.
2,795 Teenage girls will become pregnant.
15,006 Teens will use drugs for the first time.
3,506 Teens will run away.
2 adolescents will be murdered.

Every 4 minutes a youth is arrested for an alcohol-related crime.

Every 7 minutes a youth is arrested for a drug crime.

Suicide is the second leading cause of death for people between the ages of 10 and 24.

More teens and young adults die from suicide than from heart disease, AIDS, birth defects, pneumonia, influenza, cancer, and lung disease combined.

I would never go back to this season of life. YOU CAN’T MAKE ME!

Sure, some of the problems are not new. Of course, we had plenty of hard things when I was a teen in the 90’s. But there is one thing that is new. In my day, the world did not have immediate access to me and I did not have immediate access to the world.

Just this morning, I was having the daily drive-to-school conversation with my youngest. I discovered something in my pre-coffee news scrolling that I wanted her to know about before she arrived at school. I braced my word choice and tone for the least amount of stress induction and I began, “I want you to know…” She stopped me three sentences in with, “Oh, I already knew that, Mom.” She read the news herself. She saw the Instagram comments. She knew more than I did. I did not get to prepare her heart. I did not get to shape her first knowledge. That is the world we live in.

There will be those that tell me that my 7th grader should not have Instagram. Sure. That is the choice we have made as a family. She does not Tweet. She does not have Facebook. She doesn’t even have Musically or Snapchat. But the truth is that she would have seen this piece of information when she logged on to her school issued laptop during her first period class. Our kids have the world at their phone, laptop and iPad fueled fingertips. This is our reality.

And with this reality, comes the immense responsibility as parents to be aware, informed and willing to partner with our kids as they learn to navigate the challenges of immediate information access and social media nonsense. Most importantly for our family, managing the impact that these societal changes make on stress and expectations is paramount.  Sure, I am glad that my teenage experiences are not recorded for all to see in words and pictures, but recognizing the psychological impact of this reality has shaped our family choices.

Here are a few of the things we have done to shape our household culture:

  • We actively monitor all downloads, texts and social media. We over-manage in the middle school years, even using outside parent monitoring software to make sure we are not missing anything.
  • We read through our kid’s feeds and talk about who they are following and how they are interacting.
  • We major on the majors. What bands our kids are listening to or what sitcom they are checking out matters less to us than the friends they spend the night with and the activities they want to participate in. If their favorite music uses colorful language, I assure you they hear worse in the junior high hallway today. Side note, if they like BAD music, that is an entirely different conversation.
  • We play games together. One of the hardest things for our kids today is to look people in the eye and have a conversation. Enjoying a spirited game of dominoes or cards or Ticket to Ride is a non-threatening way to have conversation. Add in some smack talk or slightly off-color humor for a quality blushing good time.
  • And the inverse is true – we go on car rides. Have a hard topic to talk about? Take your kid for ice cream or coffee. They don’t have to look you in the eye and they are a captive audience.
  • Talk about your teen’s life, not about the life that you want your teen to have. Ask about the things they like. Talk about the things they are reading about. Even if your kiddo hates reading, they are reading something. Why else are they staring at their phone?
  • Have designated phone free zones. These may be different for different kids. One of ours no longer takes her phone in her room. The other is regularly asked to deposit hers with me for restriction. Grounding one of my girls from the phone would be a non-issue for her. Fimg_4665.jpegor the other one, taking away the phone is like cutting off a limb.

I love teenagers. I know. I know. I would MUCH rather have a 15 year-old in my home than a 4 year-old. I’m so weird. But I don’t always enjoy teenage issues, mainly because they make me oh, so aware than my girls are not babies. They are becoming adults and with that comes adult conversations and challenges and disagreements. I cannot control them or make choices for them. They are independent and bold and brave and amazing.

Because I want you to get to see just how great this generation is, I am tee-ing up some fun for Thursday’s post. So AJ, take us into the mind of today’s teenager with:

  1. What’s the hardest thing about being a teenager in 2018?
  2. If you could tell adults one insight to your generation, what would it be?
  3. What’s your relationship to your cell phone?
  4. Is there such thing a “normal” teenager?
  5. Why do so many parents and kids have such a hard time in these years?