Feb26

What We Don’t Know

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Every parent and child have faced this situation: the child says they don’t like a particular food but when the parent asks if the kid has tried it, the answer is no. And almost every parent says something to the effect of “you don’t know if you like it or not until you’ve tried it.” What happens next runs the gambit. Some parents will attempt to entice their child to taste the food in question while some will give up based on previous episodes. But almost every parent would stand firm that the child can’t form an opinion without experiencing it.  

I thought about this common experience after I watched the Super Bowl halftime show this year. The artist Usher took the stage, and I quickly realized that I didn’t know as many of his songs as I thought. I appreciated his dancing, high energy, and showmanship, but I acknowledged that I probably didn’t appreciate it as much as I would’ve if I’d known more of his music. After the performance, I was surprised by the vast differences in the reactions to his performance on social media platforms. Usher’s fans loved his performance and hailed it as one of the best Super Bowl halftimes ever. Other people said how much they hated his performance. But I noticed that none of the people who disliked his show said they were huge Usher fans but were disappointed by how he performed. I think they were like me and didn’t know much about Usher’s repertoire. Instead of admitting they didn’t know his music though, they said his performance was awful. Sounded a lot to me like the kids who say they don’t like something because they haven’t experienced it.    

I think we do this a lot with respect to artist’s performances, yes, but also in a lot of other contexts. We say we don’t like something when we have not experienced it. We say we don’t like something when we haven’t made any effort to learn about it. Worse yet, we say we don’t like someone or a group of people without trying to understand who they are and what they’ve gone through. We don’t listen to their stories. We feel fearful or threatened based on our assumptions, not informed decisions. 

Instead of jumping to the conclusion that we don’t like someone or something, what would happen if we took a step back and analyzed whether we actually understand the person or subject well enough to make that assessment? It seems like such a simple thing that we expect children to understand the concept. I think we might find that we don’t have enough knowledge to make judgments about many of the ideas and groups that we so easily dismiss as unlikable, undesirable, or undeserving. We might take a breath before we speak out. We might wait a beat and wonder why others have different takes on the subjects and people we disregard. 

I’m convinced that acknowledging we might not know enough before we make a judgment could make a difference in how we approach people and subjects. If we stopped and analyzed our own knowledge, the initial heat of our snap convictions might dissipate. Maybe we could view others through a different lens. Saying I haven’t shared that experience, so I need to know more before I form an opinion is a valid and worthy response. More intellectually honest, with more emotional depth, and more open to the humanity that is in all of us. 

Feb19

Stirring the Spirit

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Our church’s incredible worship leader Regina is moving back to her hometown of Kansas City, and this past Sunday was her last with us. Regina brought a gospel feel to our worship and a kind and warm personality. As we hugged and said that we loved each other, I told her that she’d brought a wonderful spirit to our church. She said that the Spirit was already at our church when she’d arrived. She suggested that perhaps in her role, she’d helped stir the Spirit. And with that, she gave me a last gift to ponder: what if the Spirit is present always, and we need to help stir it up? 

In church lingo, we pray for the Holy Spirit to come to us, to stir our churches, our people, to bring about change, to move on our behalf. I admit that this has caused a struggle for me at times. Is the Spirit with us all the time or does it only visit occasionally? Or is it both? Or do we even have a clue how the Spirit works? I admit that I don’t know. Before Jesus is born, the Spirit shows up for Mary, her cousin Elizabeth, and Elizabeth’s husband Zechariah (Luke 1). Before Jesus is crucified, he tells his people, “But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you.” (John 14:26). Sometimes, we say that God is the Creator; Jesus, the Son, is the Redeemer, and the Spirit is the Sustainer. 

I personally like the idea that the Spirit is always with us, as helper and sustainer. I also think of the Spirit as portraying the feminine elements of the Godhead. I don’t have all the research at hand to back me up, but I know I’m not alone based on some of the seminary classes I’ve taken. In fact, in my first seminary class when the professor called the Spirit “she,” I knew I was in the right place. And just like most women, I think the Spirit is working behind the scenes always. 

Whether we think of the Spirit as male, female, or neutral doesn’t change the fact that I believe the Spirit can be an active participant in our lives. That if we invite the Spirit to be involved in our lives, we open our minds and hearts to see how the Spirit is and can be at work. Maybe the Spirit is the source of “good trouble” at times. If we assume that the Spirit is present, then perhaps our task is to ask how the Spirit would like us to help. If the Spirit is always brewing something, then maybe our job is to take turns stirring in the way the Spirit guides us. 

We don’t need to stir in the same way. Regina stirs by singing and playing in a way that moves people. I try by using words and giving hugs when I greet at church. Some of us may teach children; some of us may be activists that stand up boldly for their communities; some of us may take a meal to someone who is home bound. I believe the Spirit is up to something all the time and in all sorts of ways. And that the Spirit wants us to help. Maybe stirring the pot can be a good thing after all.   

Feb12

Warning: Low Battery

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The battery in my car key fob is low. I discovered this issue because every time I turn off my car, it dings several times and then displays an image of a key fob and a battery that says, “low key battery.” I turn my car on and off several times a day. The dinging is super annoying and has been going on for several weeks (months). Yet, most of the time, I don’t even hear the dinging anymore. I’ve gotten used to it. The alarm is warning me that if I don’t do something, the battery will become useless, and the key fob and therefore the car won’t work.  

The metaphor is not lost on me. I feel like I’ve become pretty good at realizing when I need rest and alone time to recharge. I say pretty good, because sometimes I need a reminder. My husband Ben can look at me or hear the tone of my voice and hound me with “what’s wrong?” until I stop and either acknowledge what’s bothering me or figure out what’s causing my discontent. I need Ben to sound the alarm for me at times. 

Recently, I’ve had several friends dealing with heavy matters: job issues, illness, financial crises, family situations, grief, and loss. And then there are the friends who step in to take care of everyone else. Over and over again. They’re all in danger of burning out. They tend to ignore their needs and instead focus on others. They might not even realize what they’re doing because it’s always been their way of operating in the world. So lately, I’ve taken it upon myself to serve as their alarms. I’ve sent several texts saying, “take care of yourself” over the last few weeks. Reminding them that unless they take time to reenergize themselves, they will be unable to function. I’ve ended up physically sick after stressful seasons when I haven’t taken care of myself. I’ve become overly anxious or depressed when I haven’t treated myself kindly.  Of course, when mama goes “down,” it’s more difficult for everyone around us. We can’t mother those we love, whether they’re in our family or our larger community, if we are depleted mentally, physically, or emotionally. 

Knowing what will help sustain and restore us is not always obvious. One of the reasons I haven’t changed the battery in my key fob is because I don’t know what size button battery goes in the key. I also don’t remember what battery worked the last time I changed it. I need to sit down, open the fob, and find out what kind of battery it needs. Finding out what makes us feel better may be a mystery at times. Sometimes, I need to take a nap. At other times, I need to watch a television show that I’ve already seen a hundred times. Or I need to go to lunch with my friends so I can vent or lament. Or journal to get all my feelings out of my head and onto paper. But my ways of dealing with stress may be the last way another person would choose. I flipped through my journal once to show my eleven-year-old Alex what it meant to have a journal practice. He was horrified that anyone would ever engage in all of that “writing,” much less as an effort to relax and refocus. We must spend time figuring out what will help us when we find ourselves slipping into the abyss. 

When we see people struggling under their burdens or those of others, we can serve as the gentle alarm that tells them they are important and need to take care of themselves. Low batteries eventually run out. Instead of ignoring the repeated dinging, let’s help ourselves and others by heeding the warning signs.

Feb5

Trust Me?

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In the book “One Word That Will Change Your Life,” authors Jon Gordon, Dan Britton, and Jimmy Page promote the strategy of choosing one word that becomes the focus of a person’s year instead of creating a bunch of wordy resolutions that we’ll forget by the end of January. My friend Lanna is dedicated to discovering a word of the year that frames her mindset for the upcoming year. So, when I decided that the youth group should engage in this one-word project, I asked Lanna to lead the discussion. She agreed and then asked, “what’s your word?” I hadn’t picked a word at that point even though the new year had already started, but now I needed to go through the process of finding my word if I was asking the youth to do the same. I read the above-mentioned book – the copy that Lanna gave me last year – and set out to find my word. 

I admit I was a bit skeptical because while I’d picked words in some years past, I hadn’t gone through the process of looking in, looking up, and looking out described in the book. The authors noted that sometimes the word will come to you quickly and at other times the word reveals itself with a bit of time. I thought my word would emerge gently and slowly. But suddenly, the word “trust” came to me like a bolt of lightning. My next thought was no thank you. 

I didn’t want trust to be my word because I have some trust issues. Whenever I see a tv show or movie in which one character asks another, “do you trust me?” my automatic thought is no. Obviously the question is not intended for me, the viewer, but no is what I think. On the Enneagram personality type, I’m a six. After the word trust came to mind, I saw a social media post by an Enneagram expert (@enneagramexplained) that had each of the nine types’ responses to “Driving in the Snow.” When confronted with driving in the snow, a type six says, “Nope, I either don’t trust myself or I don’t trust everyone else!”  Another Enneagram social media post (enneagramwithhjb) says sixes are “looking for someone they can trust.” We sixes are loyal once we trust someone. It’s just hard for us to get there. I don’t trust the process or the journey easily. I don’t trust myself, and I struggle to trust God too. 

To me, trust implies lack of control and that scares me. But when I looked up the definition of trust, I read “assured reliance on the character, ability, strength, or truth of someone or something” (merriam-webster.com). Trust isn’t based on blind faith but built on a strong foundation that I already have with someone or something. I don’t have to trust everyone (not that that would ever happen), and if I have trusted someone, I can change my mind if they prove themselves untrustworthy. I can trust myself more than I have in the past because I know how much time and effort I put into making decisions. I can trust God more because I can rely on God’s character.    

Perhaps instead of letting the word trust terrify me, I can view it as becoming more content with who and where I am. Now that I have my word, I’ll spend this year learning about trust and about myself in the process. Trust me. 

Jan29

That’s My Boy

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My eleven-year-old son Alex is playing basketball through the YMCA this winter. A couple of weeks ago, his coach was sick and asked for volunteers to help out. It just so happened that my oldest son Jed was available to attend the game and decided to coach. Alex was thrilled at the prospect of his 6’5” tall, big brother who plays high school varsity basketball acting as his coach. Ben and I watched as Jed walked the kids through some warmups and then encouraged them during the game. Ben noted that Jed’s skills as a camp counselor were coming out in addition to his basketball talents. 

After the game was over, a father approached Jed. He said that his older son was an athlete who excelled in every sport while his younger son who was on Alex’s team was not as athletic. He then said that Jed was the first coach in any sporting situation that had looked his son in the eye and told him he’d done a good job. The father thanked Jed and told him that his son would remember that. I watched as the dad and Jed shook hands and tried not to tear up. That’s my boy, I thought. Except this week, that boy will be recognized at his senior basketball night and turns eighteen on the same day, becoming a man. One whom I admire and respect. 

Most people who know our family know about Jed’s basketball prowess. He’s been playing basketball since he was tiny.  As parents, we said we weren’t going to force sports onto our kids, but Jed has always been drawn to basketball. Thankfully, he grew into a big guy with talent who worked hard and stayed disciplined to excel at his chosen sport. But what many people may not know is that Jed is an outstanding student who knows almost everything there is to know about politics and history. He’s been soaking in those areas of study from the time he was in elementary school and can have deep conversations about the past and the future of our country and the world. 

And most people don’t know that he wrote his major college essay about his experience as a member of the Pastor Nominating Committee at our Presbyterian church. For a year, he served as the youngest member of the committee elected by our church to find our current pastor after an in-depth process of discernment and an exhaustive search. He was dedicated to his role and determined to do his best to find the pastor that could lead our church into the future. He proved he is a serious person who cares deeply about his community. 

On Saturday, Jed was able to attend Alex’s next game, this time as a fan in the stands. After the game, Jed found the boy whose father had talked to him the week before. Jed talked to him for a couple of minutes, and I watched as the kid wrapped his arm around Jed’s waist for a hug. Jed is a good man who will continue to nurture and support those around him. He will change the world, whether it’s the world at large or a little kid’s world. But no matter what, I will always be proud to say, “that’s my boy.”  

Jan22

Twenty Years a Parent

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Several of our friends have recently welcomed babies into their lives. A couple of them are brand new grandparents. Others are younger couples experiencing parenthood for the first time. Add to that my daughter Riley turning twenty years old this month, and I’ve found myself reflecting on parenthood quite a bit. If I’d been employed at a business for twenty years, I would get a plaque or paperweight in recognition. But as a parent, success is harder to determine. 

Twenty years is a long time to do one job. As in any role, I’ve learned a lot. I’ve changed a lot. And the position was very different than what I expected. If on day one of parenthood, someone had shown me who I’d be as a twenty-year parent, I would’ve been surprised and disbelieving for many reasons. Honestly, way back at the start, I thought my children would be a lot like me as a child: fairly docile, shy, and compliant. Anyone who knows my family knows that is not a description of any of my children. Instead, they’re fun, loud, and irreverent. They’re super smart and opinionated. They’re very different from one another and yet share many of the same familial traits. They’re kind and care about others. They are real, authentic, and genuinely themselves. For a minute on this journey, I tried to blame my husband Ben for one of the children’s stubborn behaviors. I thought I was paying for something he’d done in his childhood. Then, one day during that child’s rant about the unfairness of his world, I realized I was looking in a mirror. He’d inherited his need to rail against injustices from me. Ultimately, I wish I’d been more like them when I was younger. But I hope that my evolution as a person has benefited them. Becoming more flexible and open has allowed me to parent them in ways I couldn’t have foreseen twenty years ago. 

Not that it’s been easy to relinquish my controlling nature at times. Riley and I spent her entire junior year of high school at odds over who should be in charge of her life. I thought if she would just do what I told her to do, how I told her to do it, she could proceed with less heartache, less pain, more happiness. Ben continually reminded me that Riley was not me. That Riley was raised in a different time and place and that her experiences were not mine. I knew that intellectually. And yet, it was so hard for me to accept. My desire to protect her and keep her safe overwhelmed me and proved difficult to moderate. Both Riley and I learned so much that year about one another and how to be in relationship with each other as she matured and asserted her independence. I learned that I still had a role to play in her emotional and social development, but the way I went about it was important. My expectations about that stage of parenthood were idealistic and ultimately unrealistic, but we survived and have a deeper and more fulfilling relationship now. Adapting may not be easy for me, but when it comes to my kids, I’m determined to eventually find my way. 

It’s strange to think that when the newborns we know reach the age of twenty, Riley will be forty! And if I’ve learned anything, it’s that time really does feel like it goes by in the blink of an eye. I’m looking forward to the next twenty plus years and the privilege of watching my kids grow into the adults they will become. And I know that I’ll continue to change as well. I can’t wait.   

Jan15

We’re the Weasleys

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Recently, we hosted Jed’s varsity basketball team for dinner at our house. I spent a day and a half cleaning and decluttering in preparation. In keeping with my tradition, I also spent a good amount of time fretting about how our house looks in comparison to everyone else’s museum quality, magazine ready houses. Because in my head, that’s what we’re up against. Sparkly, new, organized, beautiful, tidy homes that do not need any work or repairs, have no closets containing the things they want to hide from guests, and remain spotless no matter how many people live there. The anxiety I create about having people over is compounded by the imaginary perfection I assume everyone else maintains. 

But lately, and especially, during my preparation for this dinner, I’ve adopted a new mantra: “We’re the Weasleys.” The Weasleys are a fictional family from the Harry Potter series by JK Rowling. They become Harry’s surrogate family because he was orphaned and then mistreated by his guardians. The Weasleys have more children than we do – we have four, they have six, but each family only has one girl, and the rest are boys. And while none of my children inherited my ginger hair, all the Weasleys have red hair distinguishing them amongst other families in the wizarding world. Some of the snooty wizarding families look down on them. Their home is cozy, cluttered, crowded, and a bit crazy. Loud – definitely loud – with conversation, teasing, yelling, and laughter. They adopt numerous friends as family. Never, ever attack one of the people Mrs. Weasley cares about because she is the ultimate mama bear. The moment Harry arrives, he feels he’s found a home.  

That’s what I hope and pray our home is like. If you dropped in on us unannounced, you’d probably find a basket of unfolded laundry in plain sight, and school papers, laptops, and cups (oh the cups) on the tables or kitchen island. Backpacks and shoes, so many shoes, strewn about. The TV is on, and someone is probably loudly watching YouTube on their phone in competition. Blankets and decorative pillows are all over the couch if they’re not on the floor. The dogs will bark because they want you to pet them. No need to be intimidated here – there are no antiques or valuables to worry about. In fact, we had two plastic basketball goals in the foyer for over ten years because it has hard wood floors and resembles a basketball court. Some things, like the towel and toilet paper holders in the powder room, are broken or missing altogether and are on a long list of to-dos that never get done.  

And yet, we are real, and I hope, welcoming. I will hug you, like Mrs. Weasley, most every visit. We are loud no matter our moods, raucous, and irreverent. More than once I’ve told my people that we aren’t hiding our crazy well in front of newcomers. Yes, we ask a lot of questions, but it’s because we care. I wish I had Mrs. Weasley’s magical ability to conjure up food, but you’re welcome to snacks and drinks, and we can always order take-out. Just ask for whatever you need. 

I hope people feel comfortable in our home, and most importantly, loved. That’s what really matters, right? That’s why the Weasleys are a beloved family in literature. They love their family, and they love others whom they treat like family. So, when I’m starting to spin about all the things that are not perfect about our home, I will try to pull myself back to reality by remembering a fictional family. “We’re the Weasleys,” I tell myself. I certainly hope so. 

Jan8

In the Bleak Midwinter

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Taking down the Christmas decorations makes me sad. When we decorate the weekend after Thanksgiving, it is a family affair. Everyone is excited for the upcoming holiday season, and they want to put “their” ornaments on the tree. We have a lot of ballerina and basketball ornaments, in addition to ones commemorating vacations and special events. But putting the decorations away is a solitary endeavor. I end up organizing them into boxes by myself. I become more nostalgic and a bit melancholy remembering the first Christmases and the trips when my children were little. The house is less festive. We must readjust to the ordinary. 

And while we might have high hopes for the new year in many respects, the return to our normal routines of school and work can be disheartening. The weather turns colder and grayer as the sun is less prominent. In Texas, we’ve experienced some ice storms in the past few years that have produced electricity outages, rolling blackouts, and the inability to leave home. We can suffer more loneliness because we have fewer opportunities to gather. Our busy schedules during the holidays may slow so that time feels like it is creeping along. We may find ourselves physically sick from illnesses that make the rounds in the winter or from stress and exhaustion after the holidays. We may find ourselves struggling with depression or seasonal affect disorder. 

Becoming aware that some of us suffer through the early months of the year is important. First, this awareness can help us if we start to slip into these situations. We don’t need to assume we are overreacting. We can’t dismiss our issues or keep powering through without dealing with our mental, emotional, or physical health. Many people don’t take their own health seriously enough, and this can lead to more dire problems later. Second, we must be cognizant of what is happening in other people’s lives. Isolation is a real problem that crops up when we feel disconnected or down. We need to check on our friends and reach out to those who might not have others on whom they can depend. Simply knowing someone else cares may prompt them to ask for help. Just a text telling another that you’re thinking of them can be the bright spot that gets them through the day. 

One of my favorite Christmas songs is “In the Bleak Midwinter,” which imagines harsh winds, frozen water, and “snow on snow on snow” long ago during Jesus’ birth. I only learned about this song as an adult, so I think I better understood those feelings of longing and scarceness the author Christina Georgina Rossetti expressed. At the end of the song, she asks what she could give Jesus compared to the shepherds and wise men and determines that poor as she is, she can give Jesus her heart. When we take care of ourselves and others, we express the love of God and serve with our hearts. Let us look out for one another because we may offer the only warmth that another person feels in the bleak midwinter. 

Jan1

Spinning

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Last night, we held our New Year’s Eve lock-in for our youth group at church. We ate, played games, watched a movie, celebrated at midnight, and then slept over in the church building. I bought a pack of 200 soft, fake snowballs, and we had an epic, indoor snowball fight. Then we got out the preschool’s flat scooters to play a version of Hungry, Hungry Hippos in which one person lays on the scooter and collects the balls and the other person directs them by holding, pushing, and pulling their legs. At one point though, my son Clay, who is 14 and 6’2”, laid on the scooter by himself, as well as his frame would allow, and began spinning himself around and around. I told him he was going to get dizzy but took a video anyway. He finally stopped and appeared somewhat winded from the exercise.

When I watched the video again today, I thought about how Clay’s spinning can be like life at times. We feel as though we need to give our attention to everyone and everything. Going in circles but unable to truly give our focus to anyone or anything. We are left feeling dizzy, scattered, and frazzled. Sometimes, life circumstances create this situation for us. But if we’re honest with ourselves, we often impose this on ourselves. We take on too many projects. We overschedule our calendars without including any downtime for ourselves. We still fall for the false narrative that being stressed is the equivalent of being successful. That if we’re busy, we are important and have value. That anxiety is a sign of productivity. That the only pursuits that are worthy are those we can monetize. 

At this time of year, we make resolutions, many of which require adding things to our to-do lists. But if we don’t evaluate our currently crowded lives, we may be setting ourselves up for the vertigo of an even crazier itinerary. Saying yes to something new means less time for something old, and maybe that’s a good thing. But to make that determination, we need to assess our overall circumstances – what stays, what goes, and what is added. Can we slow down a bit to savor life more instead of whirling into a new year? Can we take pride in resting? Can we devote ourselves to family and friends? Can we celebrate play and the pursuit of hobbies for no other reason than enjoyment?  

I think we can. We can reassess our priorities and choose how we want to approach this year. I don’t want to look back on 2024 and feel that it was all a blur. I want to be intentional in the way I spend my time. We can reduce the amount of spinning. I believe in us. Here’s to a Happy New Year in which we become happier people because we are more conscious of how we spend our time and attention, and most importantly, those with whom we spend it. 

Dec25

Sanctuary

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This summer, our family was on the Kilimanjaro Safari drive through Disney World’s Animal Kingdom viewing the menagerie of animals when the rain began. While we were prepared for short afternoon showers with our disposable ponchos, this one was more of a lasting downpour. Remaining on the vehicle once the tour ended was not an option. So out we went into the deluge. We ducked underneath a porch overhang for a moment of refuge where a photographer snapped our picture. We were soaking wet but were genuinely smiling because we were together. 

A few weeks later though, I was not in a good emotional place. For months, my mother, brother, and I, along with our families, had been working to find my dad a nursing facility that could help keep him safe as his Parkinson’s progressed. We’d had one place fall through and had searched for a new one. Even though we’d now found a place for dad and had a date scheduled for his arrival, my frustration, stress, and anxiety were high. One afternoon after school, my eleven-year-old son Alex looked at me and said, “I feel like you want to cry but you’re holding back tears. It’s okay to cry. This is your sanctuary. We’re here for you.” Yes, he literally used the word sanctuary. I was touched by his words and told him he was right. Ben and the kids had been surrounding me with love to help me through one of the hardest things I’d ever experienced. The next day, the dam broke, and I ended up sobbing, letting out all the complex emotions that I’d bottled up. I told Alex that I’d finally cried. I was safe with my people, in our home.

Thankfully, we found a good facility with kind people for my dad. But over the course of the year, I’ve discovered that not everyone has a safe place to be. Ben and I have been leading our church’s small youth group. While our group of kids appears to be authentically themselves at home and church, we’ve heard stories about their friends who don’t have that same freedom. They can’t be their genuine selves in all aspects with their families. To me that is devastating. The world is scary enough, how sad not to have people or places to which they can retreat when life becomes difficult.   

I pray during this holiday season and in the new year that we all have people and places that care for us. That we can turn to them when we need a safe person or place. That we can be our true selves and share our deepest thoughts and emotions with them. And that if we do not, we have the courage to seek and find them. I hope we realize that we can serve as places of refuge for others when the hard rain or unrelenting tears inundate their lives. Let us thank God for the gift of sanctuary and pray God opens our eyes and hearts so that we may discover that comfort for ourselves and be that support for others.

Love,

The Carter Family

2023