My car is filthy. Like, dirt roads and mud holes, dirty. Write your name on it, dirty. Car pool full of boys, dirty. Preschooler snacks and pre-pubescence - dirty. I pay a ridiculous amount to subscribe to a local car wash. Do you know, I drive by it every day with my dirty car? The car wash that I've already paid for- to wash - my dirty car? I drive past it - every day. I always have a reason why I don't stop. Usually, it is that I will go tomorrow.
A dear friend of mine says, "cleanliness is close to Godliness"..oh Lawd, help me! We could eat dinner off of her car's floor. For real.
Tomorrow never comes. Charlie Brown "Linus" style dust cloud continues to follow my #CarFullofBoysandFriends. Soon, the dust cloud will be named because it is becoming the size of a storm. I know it. Yet, I still drive past the car wash. Every day. The car wash that has already been paid for.
This reminds me of something. Oh yes, I know! My life and Jesus' ability to wash away. To make new. I've been made new. Many years ago. However, there are still things that I carry. The dust on my car. That dust that I always think I'll wash off and let go of tomorrow. In the wash, that has already been paid for, I continue to drive by with my dirt. Tomorrow, I'll go.
I know He is in my mess, but what if I allowed Him to wash over me. The parts of me that I don't want to surrender. The parts of me that I know need His cleansing blood to wash over me again and again.
Recently my car has been gifted a large dent in the rear courtesy of my two reasons why we can have nothing-nice-in-this-phase-of-life-boys. I didn't ask for the dent. I didn't cause it. But, alas, it is there. The dent, the dust, and the precious boys that I adore. The boys I prayed for. The boys I thought I might not ever have. Dirty, messy, beautiful, mine.
At car rider pick up, I usually feel the need to apologize as the door opens. But, I don't. Instead, I laugh. I smile. And in the words unsaid, I say, it's a season. Someday I am going to miss these smelly, messy people that I live for - who trash my car, dent the rear and leave snack wrappers to find their way home.
It reminds me of how God must feel about his daughter - me. Instead of apologizing when the dust ball comes rolling up on the scene. He smiles. He knows the car wash has already been paid for. He knows, I'll get there. He knows my heart, my mess, and loves me anyway.
Car wash, or not. He loves me anyway. He is always there. Patiently waiting to wash over me. He doesn't judge the mess when it finally pulls up. He restores. And, sends me back off into the world to get messy again.
Jesus Loves this Hot Mess
In the midst of the mess, the struggle, the strife, and the sufferings we go through in life, it can be easy to overlook the beauty that can be found right in the center of it all. During some of the darkest seasons of my life, beauty was birthed, in pain, through the mess. Beauty from ashes. Dry bones to life. A tender sprout of new life amongst the rubble. In the aftermath of hurricane Matthew, there has been so much destruction, devastation and debris to clean up and recover from. As our town has been working through the process of restoring yards, neighborhoods and homes, I have seen beauty in the mess. While sitting with sadness for those who lost so much, I also began to move past sadness to see the potential in the pain. The potential looks different for each person. For me, in life, unrelated to a hurricane, pain has stirred purpose, potential and a giant push to overcome.
We are given the opportunity to decide how to handle our trials, though, we are not given the choice of what trials will come. We can choose to become angry. We can choose to become bitter, resentful, damaged and undone. We can choose many paths. We can even sit with all of these emotions for a short while on our road to restoration. However, I know, chaperoning these feelings to take root in our heart for an extended period of time, will not allow progress and complete restoration.
For example, in my neighborhood there are still a few yards with huge trees that were crushed in the storm. The process of restoration has begun, but is not finished. Chain saws are continuing to cut up the dying trees and now enormously, heavy, pieces are stacked and lined by the road awaiting equipment to come and pick them up. Branches and brown leaves are like confetti on the lawns. This particular sight is one I drive by each day. The clean up process was fast for some yards and for others it has taken time. In this particular yard that I drive by, the homeowners were fortunate in that the tree did not fall on their home. However, now, they have this huge pile of debris sitting on their lawn with the potential of killing all of their grass.
When I drive by, I don't see the mess anymore. I see the beauty of the huge logs. I see a background for pictures. I see potential. I see the beauty in the ashes. Last evening, just before dusk, I grabbed my camera and a few pieces of wearable faith that I've been working on. I ran down the road and set up shop, in their front yard, taking pictures of my bracelets in the midst of the hurricane's mess.
Be the good. See the good. Make a difference. Make a change. Make the world a better by showing Christ in you. Make. Make something for his glory. Make His name, known. Sitting and staying in fear never changed the world before and it certainly won't now. So, get busy. Move past your fear of failure and get to work.
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We are given the opportunity to decide how to handle our trials, though, we are not given the choice of what trials will come. We can choose to become angry. We can choose to become bitter, resentful, damaged and undone. We can choose many paths. We can even sit with all of these emotions for a short while on our road to restoration. However, I know, chaperoning these feelings to take root in our heart for an extended period of time, will not allow progress and complete restoration.
For example, in my neighborhood there are still a few yards with huge trees that were crushed in the storm. The process of restoration has begun, but is not finished. Chain saws are continuing to cut up the dying trees and now enormously, heavy, pieces are stacked and lined by the road awaiting equipment to come and pick them up. Branches and brown leaves are like confetti on the lawns. This particular sight is one I drive by each day. The clean up process was fast for some yards and for others it has taken time. In this particular yard that I drive by, the homeowners were fortunate in that the tree did not fall on their home. However, now, they have this huge pile of debris sitting on their lawn with the potential of killing all of their grass.
When I drive by, I don't see the mess anymore. I see the beauty of the huge logs. I see a background for pictures. I see potential. I see the beauty in the ashes. Last evening, just before dusk, I grabbed my camera and a few pieces of wearable faith that I've been working on. I ran down the road and set up shop, in their front yard, taking pictures of my bracelets in the midst of the hurricane's mess.
In addition, to the pictures, I met the homeowners as the pulled into their driveway. I'm embarrassed to say that we had never met and only live a few houses away from each other. It was a pleasure to meet Mrs. Emily and Mr. Dutch. I told them how beautiful I thought the logs were and how much I would love for my husband to figure out a way to tote them to our yard. They laughed and I'm sure thought I was a little off my rocker! Mr. Dutch then shared a story with me about the joys of young children and the elderly. He shared a story with me that he had seen on tv about how a young child brought so much joy to an elderly man in a retirement home who was struggling with depression. Hope. Joy. Love. It's all around us if our eyes are open to it.
This morning, I realized, that sometimes the most beautiful things are not the image captured but, rather, the story behind the lens. (On a side note, I'm the worst photographer there ever was but I have found the courage to take pictures for my shop anyways because, for me, imperfect is better than not trying at all). So, I grabbed my camera and threw on some clothes for fear of running into neighbors, in my pajamas, while taking pictures of bracelets in the debris - oh, Lawd, now they KNOW it's true I am - the strange neighbor! But, it occurred, that there it was - in the midst of the debris, on the dawning of this new day, that God's word is true and He does mean what He says. In Psalm 30:5 it says, "For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning."
I don't know what debris is clouding your thoughts and decaying your heart this morning. But, I do know the God who can make all things new. The God who can raise the dead to life. My God who makes beauty from ashes. My God who adores you and all your mess. My God who adores me and my hot mess. God, who can look past the debris and see the potential, see the purpose and show us the way to it. The God who can use ALL things for His glory including the trials, the pain, the suffering, along with all of the goodness of your life, for His name sake.
In our limited perspective sometimes we see this: The mess. The ashes. The dry bones. The jagged edges. The once was.
But, I believe, along with those things, God is able to see more. He sees the beauty in the ashes. He sees the dry bones coming to life. He sees the tender sprout rising up from the rubble. He sees the potential, the purpose, the plans that are good even in the midst of the mess.
I am not a jewelry maker, or a photographer. And, until three weeks ago, I wasn't someone in the clothing industry either. I've spent too many years of my life telling myself who I am not. Why I am not and the reasons not to try. The beauty from my ashes continues to remind me and make me realize that I care too much not to try. My greatest concern is not about the products I am making, but the God who I am making known. If wearing a t-shirt, a bracelet or something else that speaks of who the God I serve is, then you better believe I am willing to risk what it takes to figure out how to do it. This Wednesday, will you join me? Will you show the world the beauty in your ashes? Will you wear your faith as a stance of - my life may not be perfect, but my God is. You can wear whatever you have in your closet, a t-shirt, a cross, a bracelet...use what you already have! I encourage you to stand, join us in #wearablefaithwedesday each week and begin a courageous conversation in the grocery store, at the gym or at work. The world needs you to help others know that there is beauty in their ashes and Jesus loves that hot mess, too.
Be the good. See the good. Make a difference. Make a change. Make the world a better by showing Christ in you. Make. Make something for his glory. Make His name, known. Sitting and staying in fear never changed the world before and it certainly won't now. So, get busy. Move past your fear of failure and get to work.
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For Such a Time as This
Looking back I can see how the dots connect. I can see how I was being prepared for something I could never have asked for or imagined. I can now see, with perspective, what had seemed to be a blurry mess in my life - like an illusion that one stares at for long enough- that the blur comes into focus. God has been refining me, in an uncomfortable process over the last two years of my life in all aspects of my being. He is allowing for the stripping away of layers and the pruning of my soul. It has been raw, painful and sweet all at the same time. To share all He has done, is more than one quick write. However, today, I would like to share about the birth of a dream I didn't even know I had.
Last Fall, my oldest son, Noah, started first grade in public school. As a past public school teacher, I was very comfortable with the curriculum, the system as a whole and knew what to expect. I was uncomfortable with was the grandiose of it all. The huge school, the large student body, the unknown teachers and the reality that he was no longer under my watch down the hall at my preschool. Shortly before school began, I learned that he would have a brand new teacher. I was quickly taken back to my first year teaching and began to grow anxious. However, I was quickly put at ease at Open House. His new teacher was wise beyond her experience and appeared like an old pro.
Several weeks went by and I continued to have a deep unsettling that I couldn't name. He was attending a great school and had a wonderful, passionate, new teacher. However, night after night, I kept feeling like I wasn't in step with what God was requiring of me. You see, a year before, I felt a gentle nudge to consider a Christian school. But, I ignored. I questioned and then I moved on. There was the private school tuition. Ouch. There was the fact that I was a past public school teacher. There was uncertainty with their curriculum that is different than the curriculum I taught. There was uncertainty and fear. There were differing opinions amongst peers. There was a whole long list of "Buts, whats and ignoring" because I certainly knew what was better for my child than what God was asking of me.
Finally, after literally wrestling with it for weeks, I did what I thought I'd never do. I obeyed when it was difficult, uncomfortable, unpopular and unsettling. As a teacher, I never thought I'd move my child during the school year, especially not only a few weeks after the start of the year. I felt slightly crazy having to explain to a phenomenal principal at the school, that I thought the world of Noah's teacher and highly of the school itself, but that I felt led to leave the school. She soothed my soul by her response of encouragement to be faithful to how I was being led. Telling Noah's teacher was equally as difficult because she truly was exceptional. She was doing everything well and yet, we were leaving.
Since, moving to a small Christian school in obedience, God has changed my life. He has changed my relationship with him. He has made my faith come to life. And, here, I thought it was only about Noah. In First grade, at the Christian Academy, Noah's teacher, Jennifer Carroll, introduced me to something called Illustrated Faith. She showed me wide margined Bibles that people actually painted, drew and colored in. She introduced me to jewelry and t-shirts that inspired me. Over and over, Mrs. Carroll continued to point me towards seeing Christ in a different light. You see, I had put limits on how I thought I could experience God and therefore my relationship with Him was also limited.
Looking back, I can see missteps along the way because I was moving in fear. I was leaving the known of public school, my public school teaching experiences, and stepping into the unknown of private school. I can see the areas where I refused to walk in faith and continued to try to cling to the comfortable. However, Mrs. Carroll, continued to show this nervous Mama, grace. But more than grace, she showed me Christ in a way I never imagined I could see Him. She showed me How to worship Him, and walk with Him unlike I ever had before. Suddenly, I was interested in opening my Bible more often and spending time in it. I felt like a lifetime of feeling unable to express myself through the arts began pouring out of me through watercolors, markers and colored pencils. I had this new unbridled need to create, beautiful or not. I was no longer limited by the expectation of perfection. I could just be, me.
At the same time, my husband and sons, started spending most of their free time hunting, four wheeling and being outdoors. I began to purposely shift my thinking from resentful to intentional about this hobby of theirs. I started going with them. I started showing up. It was uncomfortable. But, I kept showing up. After many, many, many outdoor expeditions with my little explorers, something surprising happened. Their love for the outdoors started becoming my love, too. It didn't happen quickly. It wasn't forced. But, after showing up over and over and over again, my heart began to change.
This is the season of my life. Showing up. Show up rain or shine. Muddy and messy and beautiful. Show up, anyway, and watch what God can do.
In February last year, while out to eat, Noah interrupted the conversation and said he had something he needed to tell me. Thinking it was another long Minecraft narration or expression of His love of all things digital, I told him he needed to wait because his Grandma and I were talking. He patiently obeyed and finally could not wait any longer. He came over and whispered in my ear, "Mom, today at Grandma's, I prayed and asked God to come into my heart."
I almost missed the moment, because I thought I knew what he was going to say. Just like I almost missed a life change, because I thought I knew better than God.
Now, a little over a year later, God used Mrs. Carroll to stir up a passion in my heart that has unknowingly always been there waiting, patiently, to be awakened. God has used a little hunt lease in the woods, that I used to resent, to bring our family closer together. He has been teaching me to show up, not to be afraid to get a little mud on my boots or paint on my hands because life is messy and beautiful. Through it all, He continues to teach me to trust Him. Trust His ways and to stand up, stand out and be set apart for His glory, for His namesake. So, in that, in my illustrated faith, in the t-shirts and jewelry I've worn, I started to wonder, what if I made it myself? What if I stepped out into the uncomfortable again? What if I chased something I didn't know how to do? What could God do through me if I trusted Him?
I'd like to introduce to you, my little Etsy shop of wearable faith, From the Stand. Because, for me, it is from the stand of faith and obedience that I was willing to show up to what God was asking and requiring of me, with my family and my faith. From the stand of faith, I was willing to show up to a place I never imagined I'd be and realized that in my love for my family, I would also find a love for their passion, in the woods, and also in a deer stand. I'm not afraid of failing with this new little endeavor because my ultimate goal is not just to sell t-shirts or stationary but to MAKE Him known. If I able to do that alone, I will consider it a success.
Listen to "Stand" by Hillsong United
Last Fall, my oldest son, Noah, started first grade in public school. As a past public school teacher, I was very comfortable with the curriculum, the system as a whole and knew what to expect. I was uncomfortable with was the grandiose of it all. The huge school, the large student body, the unknown teachers and the reality that he was no longer under my watch down the hall at my preschool. Shortly before school began, I learned that he would have a brand new teacher. I was quickly taken back to my first year teaching and began to grow anxious. However, I was quickly put at ease at Open House. His new teacher was wise beyond her experience and appeared like an old pro.
Several weeks went by and I continued to have a deep unsettling that I couldn't name. He was attending a great school and had a wonderful, passionate, new teacher. However, night after night, I kept feeling like I wasn't in step with what God was requiring of me. You see, a year before, I felt a gentle nudge to consider a Christian school. But, I ignored. I questioned and then I moved on. There was the private school tuition. Ouch. There was the fact that I was a past public school teacher. There was uncertainty with their curriculum that is different than the curriculum I taught. There was uncertainty and fear. There were differing opinions amongst peers. There was a whole long list of "Buts, whats and ignoring" because I certainly knew what was better for my child than what God was asking of me.
Finally, after literally wrestling with it for weeks, I did what I thought I'd never do. I obeyed when it was difficult, uncomfortable, unpopular and unsettling. As a teacher, I never thought I'd move my child during the school year, especially not only a few weeks after the start of the year. I felt slightly crazy having to explain to a phenomenal principal at the school, that I thought the world of Noah's teacher and highly of the school itself, but that I felt led to leave the school. She soothed my soul by her response of encouragement to be faithful to how I was being led. Telling Noah's teacher was equally as difficult because she truly was exceptional. She was doing everything well and yet, we were leaving.
Since, moving to a small Christian school in obedience, God has changed my life. He has changed my relationship with him. He has made my faith come to life. And, here, I thought it was only about Noah. In First grade, at the Christian Academy, Noah's teacher, Jennifer Carroll, introduced me to something called Illustrated Faith. She showed me wide margined Bibles that people actually painted, drew and colored in. She introduced me to jewelry and t-shirts that inspired me. Over and over, Mrs. Carroll continued to point me towards seeing Christ in a different light. You see, I had put limits on how I thought I could experience God and therefore my relationship with Him was also limited.
Looking back, I can see missteps along the way because I was moving in fear. I was leaving the known of public school, my public school teaching experiences, and stepping into the unknown of private school. I can see the areas where I refused to walk in faith and continued to try to cling to the comfortable. However, Mrs. Carroll, continued to show this nervous Mama, grace. But more than grace, she showed me Christ in a way I never imagined I could see Him. She showed me How to worship Him, and walk with Him unlike I ever had before. Suddenly, I was interested in opening my Bible more often and spending time in it. I felt like a lifetime of feeling unable to express myself through the arts began pouring out of me through watercolors, markers and colored pencils. I had this new unbridled need to create, beautiful or not. I was no longer limited by the expectation of perfection. I could just be, me.
At the same time, my husband and sons, started spending most of their free time hunting, four wheeling and being outdoors. I began to purposely shift my thinking from resentful to intentional about this hobby of theirs. I started going with them. I started showing up. It was uncomfortable. But, I kept showing up. After many, many, many outdoor expeditions with my little explorers, something surprising happened. Their love for the outdoors started becoming my love, too. It didn't happen quickly. It wasn't forced. But, after showing up over and over and over again, my heart began to change.
This is the season of my life. Showing up. Show up rain or shine. Muddy and messy and beautiful. Show up, anyway, and watch what God can do.
In February last year, while out to eat, Noah interrupted the conversation and said he had something he needed to tell me. Thinking it was another long Minecraft narration or expression of His love of all things digital, I told him he needed to wait because his Grandma and I were talking. He patiently obeyed and finally could not wait any longer. He came over and whispered in my ear, "Mom, today at Grandma's, I prayed and asked God to come into my heart."
I almost missed the moment, because I thought I knew what he was going to say. Just like I almost missed a life change, because I thought I knew better than God.
Now, a little over a year later, God used Mrs. Carroll to stir up a passion in my heart that has unknowingly always been there waiting, patiently, to be awakened. God has used a little hunt lease in the woods, that I used to resent, to bring our family closer together. He has been teaching me to show up, not to be afraid to get a little mud on my boots or paint on my hands because life is messy and beautiful. Through it all, He continues to teach me to trust Him. Trust His ways and to stand up, stand out and be set apart for His glory, for His namesake. So, in that, in my illustrated faith, in the t-shirts and jewelry I've worn, I started to wonder, what if I made it myself? What if I stepped out into the uncomfortable again? What if I chased something I didn't know how to do? What could God do through me if I trusted Him?
I'd like to introduce to you, my little Etsy shop of wearable faith, From the Stand. Because, for me, it is from the stand of faith and obedience that I was willing to show up to what God was asking and requiring of me, with my family and my faith. From the stand of faith, I was willing to show up to a place I never imagined I'd be and realized that in my love for my family, I would also find a love for their passion, in the woods, and also in a deer stand. I'm not afraid of failing with this new little endeavor because my ultimate goal is not just to sell t-shirts or stationary but to MAKE Him known. If I able to do that alone, I will consider it a success.
I leave you with this thought, what is God asking of you? Are you willing to leap "From the Stand" of faith in your life? We need you to. The world needs you to show up and to throw off the fear that has been holding you back. The world needs what you have to offer. It's time to move past fear and into faith. It's time for you (and I) to get to work in what God has been asking you to do. If that means taking a class, attending a conference, finding a mentor, or simply showing up, it's time to get started. You were made for a time such a this. You. The only you that God made. He has required something of you, that only you, can uniquely offer. Show up. Say yes to what He has asking and go do it. You don't have to be perfect, you just have to be you.
Our charitable t-shirt "God, give us hills to climb and the strength to do it" is on sale for $25 from now until Black Friday (Nov. 26th). 100% of the proceeds go directly to Camp Ridgecrest through our Stand Up Kid Camp Scholarship fund for a boy or girl from Myrtle Beach to experience summer camp and possibly meet Christ for the first time while they are there!
Listen to "Stand" by Hillsong United
Unsettled Hope
Let us not become so focused on a donkey or an elephant, that we lose sight of the Lamb. Let us remember that we are, One Nation Under God.
Heaviness. I awoke with heaviness deep in my soul over all that has surrounded this past Tuesday's Presidential election. Swirling thoughts of fear, doubt and uncertainty want to rise up and scream out for attention in my spirit.
However, this post, is not political, I promise. This post is positional. Each day, I must- want to or not- position myself in a way that I am able to know, that I know, that my hope is not in man (or woman) but that my hope and my strength comes from the Lord. I refuse to give way to fear. I refuse to allow feelings to determine the approach to my day. I refuse to allow darkness to overcome the light. I refuse to allow the way others are speaking and acting towards people with a different opinion to dictate how I will respond.
I find that Christians are remarkable at sharing what they've overcome in the past but struggle to share honestly about what God is in the midst of doing in present circumstances. When Peter was called out onto the water, the miracle was in the moment! There was no need to wait to be in awe of what God was doing because it was so evident with the first step of faith.
In this transitional time in our country's history, let us not wait to be in awe of what God is doing. Let us not miss what He is doing in the moment because of our focus, posture and position are downcast.
He is the same God, yesterday, today and tomorrow. He is sovereign. He is mighty to save. He is still in control, in charge and on the throne. He didn't need my opinion when He formed the earth, and He doesn't need my opinion now. What He needs, what He requires of me, is to show up, show love, show obedience and show Christ to a world that is desperately looking for someone to Hope in.
Let us stand, united, as One Nation under God, with the position and posture that is found through faith. Let us pick up our heads and run our race. Let us run with endurance the race that is marked out for us. Let us show kindness, concern for other and care about more than our own opinion. Rise up, pick up your head, and stand. God is faithful and He isn't through with me or you, yet.
Second Place
Today I experienced a new phase of motherhood, a championship game. High stakes, real trophies, not just participation awards. I felt the pressure the kids were experiencing and it made me want to step in and throw up for them. Crazy. You see this season, our seven year old son was somehow placed in error on the U-10 soccer roster. After showing up to try outs I started noticing that all of the boys were bigger and older than him. I wondered where all of his peers went this season and then kind of moved on to the next distracting thought on my to-do list and didn't think twice about it! Well, at least not until the first practice where it came back to me! Everyone was HUGE, tall, strong, fast and skilled. And we were, well, not.
Coach, I said, I think maybe we are here by mistake! After speaking with our coach, Noah and I realized that indeed he was the youngest on the team. After asking if we should leave the team and re-register, our coach encouraged Noah to stay. I explained to Noah that he would be the least experienced and the youngest on the team. He wasn't crazy about that idea. Then, I explained to him how much he could learn from those who had more experience but at the cost of maybe not as much playing time. He reluctantly agreed to stay.
Shortly there after we received a very detailed e-mail correspondence from the coach in regard to the systems he would be implementing and the practice schedule. Two practices a week. Oh vey. And, a fairly detailed points-to-badges system for the players efforts. Really? I just want to show up, practice, go home, Coach.
But, something happened. Week after week, I watched. I admired. I began to adore the way Coach DeFeo approached YMCA, U-10 boy's soccer with excellence. The type of excellence my parents paid several hundreds of dollars for me to be coached with on traveling teams growing up when I was playing soccer in high school.
I watched the passion of a father shine through as Coach DeFeo not only poured out for his own son but for all of our sons. A few weeks into the season, some parental grumblings began because not every player received a patch for their performance each week. The players knew the rubric for earning different patches and worked hard to achieve the points needed for different offensive, defensive, goals, assist and sportsmanship patches. Eventually, a disgruntled parent pushed back, and sent an e-mail to all of the parents on the team saying that they felt all children should receive a patch each game for showing up and participating. Though I understand the heart of that sentiment, I do not agree. I decided to reach out to the coach because too often, I feel as though if someone is doing something right or well, they may not hear about it.
Coach DeFeo,
Your approach with our soccer team has left a huge impression on me as a parent and an even bigger impression on our son. You strive for excellence not only in the sport but, in character development, and lifeskills that our children so desperately need in all areas of their life. I appreciate that you honor and recognize accomplishments through your patch system. It has helped shed light on the idea that “everybody wins just for showing up” is not beneficial after a certain age. And, in fact, I believe, becomes detrimental for a trophy that has no real value. Children understand this at a very young age. I’ve heard my child tell company at our home when they ask about his soccer trophies that, “Everybody gets one!”. What I have never heard him say is, “I worked hard, our team worked hard, and we earned this trophy!"
Your patch system is also helping our son to realize that if you don’t get a patch that disappointment is OK. It can become the fuel to ignite the extra push, the extra drive, that a “Trophy for All” could never teach. In addition, your players know you value them, you encourage them and I know that your patches are meaningful because they are earned. I also think it is helpful for young boys to start to find confidence in what they do well. You honor them by noticing what they do well instead just saying “Good game! See you next week.” You are fair, your are kind and you are consistent.
As a teacher, I understand that what YOU do is the path less travelled. I understand that you approach your volunteer job with excellence and as a true professional. I've noticed that what you do to strive for excellence, creates so much more WORK for you. Thank you for treating this YMCA soccer team with the passion, commitment and excellence that you do. By expecting and displaying excellence, your team will achieve it! You are believing them into being incredible soccer players.
As a mom of a son, I so appreciate your approach. My son, who I hope will grow up to be a hard working man and father, needs to know how to push harder towards his dreams, be coachable and strive for excellence. You are teaching these boys to show up, play hard, play clean and be encouraging to their teammates. When I heard that you were once again facing push back on your choices as I coach, I felt discouraged for you. But be encouraged, Coach, true leaders and difference makers in our world are the ones who become the catalyst for change and who take the path less travelled.
Thank you for caring enough about your son and all of the sons represented on the team to not take the easy road. You don’t just show up and go home. And, thankfully, that is teaching our sons to not just to show up and go home either. Many of these boys may not go on, for one reason or another, to play soccer for years and years. However, what they will take from this soccer season is more than a trophy for just showing up. Thank you and the other coaches on our team for striving to do things so very well.
We feel so fortunate that you are our coach. Know that your leadership extends further than to just the children you coach. People are watching and noticing how great of positive impact you are making!
Kindly,
Jenny
“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for man…” Colossians 3:23
Today, we took runner-up to the champions, but in my book, my child won. He won a season under the influence of a man who taught him to dream, to set goals and to work hard. For that, I am forever thankful. And, guess what, his runner-up medal, means something more than just showing up for the season.
Coach, I said, I think maybe we are here by mistake! After speaking with our coach, Noah and I realized that indeed he was the youngest on the team. After asking if we should leave the team and re-register, our coach encouraged Noah to stay. I explained to Noah that he would be the least experienced and the youngest on the team. He wasn't crazy about that idea. Then, I explained to him how much he could learn from those who had more experience but at the cost of maybe not as much playing time. He reluctantly agreed to stay.
Shortly there after we received a very detailed e-mail correspondence from the coach in regard to the systems he would be implementing and the practice schedule. Two practices a week. Oh vey. And, a fairly detailed points-to-badges system for the players efforts. Really? I just want to show up, practice, go home, Coach.
But, something happened. Week after week, I watched. I admired. I began to adore the way Coach DeFeo approached YMCA, U-10 boy's soccer with excellence. The type of excellence my parents paid several hundreds of dollars for me to be coached with on traveling teams growing up when I was playing soccer in high school.
I watched the passion of a father shine through as Coach DeFeo not only poured out for his own son but for all of our sons. A few weeks into the season, some parental grumblings began because not every player received a patch for their performance each week. The players knew the rubric for earning different patches and worked hard to achieve the points needed for different offensive, defensive, goals, assist and sportsmanship patches. Eventually, a disgruntled parent pushed back, and sent an e-mail to all of the parents on the team saying that they felt all children should receive a patch each game for showing up and participating. Though I understand the heart of that sentiment, I do not agree. I decided to reach out to the coach because too often, I feel as though if someone is doing something right or well, they may not hear about it.
Coach DeFeo,
Your approach with our soccer team has left a huge impression on me as a parent and an even bigger impression on our son. You strive for excellence not only in the sport but, in character development, and lifeskills that our children so desperately need in all areas of their life. I appreciate that you honor and recognize accomplishments through your patch system. It has helped shed light on the idea that “everybody wins just for showing up” is not beneficial after a certain age. And, in fact, I believe, becomes detrimental for a trophy that has no real value. Children understand this at a very young age. I’ve heard my child tell company at our home when they ask about his soccer trophies that, “Everybody gets one!”. What I have never heard him say is, “I worked hard, our team worked hard, and we earned this trophy!"
Your patch system is also helping our son to realize that if you don’t get a patch that disappointment is OK. It can become the fuel to ignite the extra push, the extra drive, that a “Trophy for All” could never teach. In addition, your players know you value them, you encourage them and I know that your patches are meaningful because they are earned. I also think it is helpful for young boys to start to find confidence in what they do well. You honor them by noticing what they do well instead just saying “Good game! See you next week.” You are fair, your are kind and you are consistent.
As a teacher, I understand that what YOU do is the path less travelled. I understand that you approach your volunteer job with excellence and as a true professional. I've noticed that what you do to strive for excellence, creates so much more WORK for you. Thank you for treating this YMCA soccer team with the passion, commitment and excellence that you do. By expecting and displaying excellence, your team will achieve it! You are believing them into being incredible soccer players.
As a mom of a son, I so appreciate your approach. My son, who I hope will grow up to be a hard working man and father, needs to know how to push harder towards his dreams, be coachable and strive for excellence. You are teaching these boys to show up, play hard, play clean and be encouraging to their teammates. When I heard that you were once again facing push back on your choices as I coach, I felt discouraged for you. But be encouraged, Coach, true leaders and difference makers in our world are the ones who become the catalyst for change and who take the path less travelled.
Thank you for caring enough about your son and all of the sons represented on the team to not take the easy road. You don’t just show up and go home. And, thankfully, that is teaching our sons to not just to show up and go home either. Many of these boys may not go on, for one reason or another, to play soccer for years and years. However, what they will take from this soccer season is more than a trophy for just showing up. Thank you and the other coaches on our team for striving to do things so very well.
We feel so fortunate that you are our coach. Know that your leadership extends further than to just the children you coach. People are watching and noticing how great of positive impact you are making!
Kindly,
Jenny
“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for man…” Colossians 3:23
Today, we took runner-up to the champions, but in my book, my child won. He won a season under the influence of a man who taught him to dream, to set goals and to work hard. For that, I am forever thankful. And, guess what, his runner-up medal, means something more than just showing up for the season.
Wash Over Me and My Kitchen Sink
If your house looks anything like mine, you might have a few (or many) dishes in your sink. A counter top may be welcome space for piles. Dropping points for groceries, lunch boxes, school calendars, and papers to send back to school. Your couch may be covered in laundry, your floor disguised by toys. Or maybe you're a little more gifted in time management and don't have to restart the washer 3 times and dryer twice before completing a load of laundry! I do believe I've solved the mystery of why my laundry is never done. My laundry is stuck in the remedial cycle over and over again. However, we all have that place in our home or our life that we wish we could "tidy" up a little more.
For me, my kitchen sink is one of those places. How on earth two small children, a husband and myself can fill a sink with dirty dishes so many times through the course of a day is mind boggling to me. Rinse, wash, scrub, repeat.
The other day in the midst of grumbling about being the only one in the house who actually sees the dishes in the sink (forgive me, it's true), I started to realize that maybe there is more to my kitchen sink than meets the eye.
Maybe my sink is a representation of my need for Jesus. It takes just a few moments to move from shiny and clean to piled high in a mess! It's a constant cleansing, washing and WORK just as is my relationship with Christ. He's always there ready to wash over, restore and cleanse me. But, those dishes require me to show up, activate the water to wash them and do the work to carry the task onto completion again and again and again.
So, tired Mama at Target, I see you. Mama-who-looks-far-too-fabulous-this-early-in-the-morning, I see you, too! What do we all have in common? Our kitchen sink. Your's may be spotless and shining, her's may be a mess. But, the sink's job remains the same; to wash over the mess until it restores the serving utensils back to clean, back to what they were made to be - ready to be used for a purpose, ready to be restored again and again again.
Your Creator is ready to for you, for your mess. For my mess. He's ready to wash over the mess until He restores His servants back to clean, back to what they were made to be - ready to be used for a purpose with a great passion. His washing is permanent. His water is living, His well never runs dry.
For me, my kitchen sink is one of those places. How on earth two small children, a husband and myself can fill a sink with dirty dishes so many times through the course of a day is mind boggling to me. Rinse, wash, scrub, repeat.
The other day in the midst of grumbling about being the only one in the house who actually sees the dishes in the sink (forgive me, it's true), I started to realize that maybe there is more to my kitchen sink than meets the eye.
Maybe my sink is a representation of my need for Jesus. It takes just a few moments to move from shiny and clean to piled high in a mess! It's a constant cleansing, washing and WORK just as is my relationship with Christ. He's always there ready to wash over, restore and cleanse me. But, those dishes require me to show up, activate the water to wash them and do the work to carry the task onto completion again and again and again.
So, tired Mama at Target, I see you. Mama-who-looks-far-too-fabulous-this-early-in-the-morning, I see you, too! What do we all have in common? Our kitchen sink. Your's may be spotless and shining, her's may be a mess. But, the sink's job remains the same; to wash over the mess until it restores the serving utensils back to clean, back to what they were made to be - ready to be used for a purpose, ready to be restored again and again again.
Your Creator is ready to for you, for your mess. For my mess. He's ready to wash over the mess until He restores His servants back to clean, back to what they were made to be - ready to be used for a purpose with a great passion. His washing is permanent. His water is living, His well never runs dry.
Unhinged
Dangly earrings are nice. I like how they sway and say, "Look at me! " I do not like when my tailgate hinges resemble earrings. I do not like how my perfectly planned sleep-in-Saturday began at 5:15 with "MOOOOOOOMMMM, I think I am going to throw up." I do not like when God allows me the opportunity to walk in what I say I believe when it is inconvenient, uncomfortable, and expensive.
This morning was exactly that. This morning began at 5:15 with upset tummies and early risers. Thankfully, as stomaches calmed and the sun rose we began to get ready to head out for soccer team pictures at 9:30. Early morning Paw Patrol and Sugary cereal seems to be the cure-all for any ailment except tired parenting.
Being the ever prompt family that we have become, at 9:15 we were headed out the door for team pictures at 9:30 (of which my husband is the Coach). I had packed the chairs, cleats, snacks and all things needed for a short jaunt to the soccer fields for the morning. I ran back inside to grab jackets because of the cool morning we were having at the beach. I left the tailgate open, garage door up...and thought it would just be a quick minute until we were headed to the fields.
Moments later I hear screaming in the garage. I hear in juvenile voices, "Put it up!", "Stop!", "Put it down!" Followed by the sound of crushing metal. Oh dear. I came out of find my #paidfor car's tailgate wedged in my hurricane proof 1,000 pound garage door with the hinges dangling like earrings from the top.
I don't have a picture to share because in that moment I wasn't thinking, "Ghee, God, could use this to teach me something today!" I was thinking that I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs until I no longer had breathe at what my boys had done to my car in their On/Off game with the garage door and my tailgate. I wanted to ask them how it is they manage to destroy all of the nice things we have in our home?! I wanted to tell them how much time I would have to sacrifice in the repairs of the tailgate and how expensive their little boo-boo would be! Instead, I thought of the sweet mama who was featured as a guest blogger just today. I thought of her words and her real expressions of the heart in dealing with anger. So, when I wanted to scream and cuss at what had been done to my car in a few short minutes, I turned around after seeing my car without saying a word, went inside, sat down and started to pray. It didn't change the anger I was feeling in that moment but it did spare my children from the rage I was feeling. It spared two little boys emotional well-belong, who had no idea how they had caused so much damage in just a few short minutes.
My husband managed to "un-stick" my tailgate from the garage door. It came down with a loud, crashing, thud..dangling "unhinged" earrings and all. It managed to stay latched and shut. Only a small dent to tell the tale of the actual damage of my tailgate. He warned not to lift the tailgate for anything and that he would meet me at the soccer fields.
The boys left in apologetic tears, despite neither Rob nor I actually speaking a word of what had happened. It appears as though they have learned to read the expression on my face as clearly as the words I speak.
Once they were gone, I took the opportunity to tell my empty house and God exactly how angry I was and why I was so angry about the circumstances of the morning. Unfortunately, I didn't feel any better after yelling about it so I was thankful there was no one there to receive my harsh words.
Once I arrived at the soccer field, a few sweet Mama friends were there to receive me and had been warned by Noah that "he broke the car and the garage" this morning. We had a good laugh, and suddenly, I felt better.
Then I gave over my anger to the Lord. My car is still broken. Unhinged. It's going to be expensive. It's going to be time consuming. And, it sucks. If I allowed myself, I would still be angry about it. But, truth me told, in the up/down tailgate commotion, my boys had no idea the damage being done. Screaming at them would not undo what had already occurred. It would have only made me feel worse about how the day began. They understood how I was feeling without saying a word.
My saving grace came because a friend was brave enough to talk about dealing with her own anger. My self control this morning came from recalling her words. When emotion had been contained, I was able to talk with my boys and tell them that accidents happen but that this particular accident was going to be expensive. I told them that they would be helping to to offset the cost. Tonight, on our prayer wall, I found this:
So, we aren't the best spellers but Lord knows we can pray! Noah told the devil to leave us alone. :) And, as the wise boy that he is, he thought he better pray about how he was going to help pay for the tailgate repairs! I suppose I am thankful that he isn't praying about how his mom screamed and yelled at him. I will count that as a win today in the midst of the crushed metal, early rising, think-I'm-going-to-vomit Saturday we've had at the Edwards home today.
I share this to say, someone needs to hear your story today. Be brave. Be a guest blogger. You don't know how your testimony will shape someone's day, someone's children, someone's tomorrow.
This morning was exactly that. This morning began at 5:15 with upset tummies and early risers. Thankfully, as stomaches calmed and the sun rose we began to get ready to head out for soccer team pictures at 9:30. Early morning Paw Patrol and Sugary cereal seems to be the cure-all for any ailment except tired parenting.
Being the ever prompt family that we have become, at 9:15 we were headed out the door for team pictures at 9:30 (of which my husband is the Coach). I had packed the chairs, cleats, snacks and all things needed for a short jaunt to the soccer fields for the morning. I ran back inside to grab jackets because of the cool morning we were having at the beach. I left the tailgate open, garage door up...and thought it would just be a quick minute until we were headed to the fields.
Moments later I hear screaming in the garage. I hear in juvenile voices, "Put it up!", "Stop!", "Put it down!" Followed by the sound of crushing metal. Oh dear. I came out of find my #paidfor car's tailgate wedged in my hurricane proof 1,000 pound garage door with the hinges dangling like earrings from the top.
I don't have a picture to share because in that moment I wasn't thinking, "Ghee, God, could use this to teach me something today!" I was thinking that I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs until I no longer had breathe at what my boys had done to my car in their On/Off game with the garage door and my tailgate. I wanted to ask them how it is they manage to destroy all of the nice things we have in our home?! I wanted to tell them how much time I would have to sacrifice in the repairs of the tailgate and how expensive their little boo-boo would be! Instead, I thought of the sweet mama who was featured as a guest blogger just today. I thought of her words and her real expressions of the heart in dealing with anger. So, when I wanted to scream and cuss at what had been done to my car in a few short minutes, I turned around after seeing my car without saying a word, went inside, sat down and started to pray. It didn't change the anger I was feeling in that moment but it did spare my children from the rage I was feeling. It spared two little boys emotional well-belong, who had no idea how they had caused so much damage in just a few short minutes.
My husband managed to "un-stick" my tailgate from the garage door. It came down with a loud, crashing, thud..dangling "unhinged" earrings and all. It managed to stay latched and shut. Only a small dent to tell the tale of the actual damage of my tailgate. He warned not to lift the tailgate for anything and that he would meet me at the soccer fields.
The boys left in apologetic tears, despite neither Rob nor I actually speaking a word of what had happened. It appears as though they have learned to read the expression on my face as clearly as the words I speak.
Once they were gone, I took the opportunity to tell my empty house and God exactly how angry I was and why I was so angry about the circumstances of the morning. Unfortunately, I didn't feel any better after yelling about it so I was thankful there was no one there to receive my harsh words.
Once I arrived at the soccer field, a few sweet Mama friends were there to receive me and had been warned by Noah that "he broke the car and the garage" this morning. We had a good laugh, and suddenly, I felt better.
Then I gave over my anger to the Lord. My car is still broken. Unhinged. It's going to be expensive. It's going to be time consuming. And, it sucks. If I allowed myself, I would still be angry about it. But, truth me told, in the up/down tailgate commotion, my boys had no idea the damage being done. Screaming at them would not undo what had already occurred. It would have only made me feel worse about how the day began. They understood how I was feeling without saying a word.
My saving grace came because a friend was brave enough to talk about dealing with her own anger. My self control this morning came from recalling her words. When emotion had been contained, I was able to talk with my boys and tell them that accidents happen but that this particular accident was going to be expensive. I told them that they would be helping to to offset the cost. Tonight, on our prayer wall, I found this:
So, we aren't the best spellers but Lord knows we can pray! Noah told the devil to leave us alone. :) And, as the wise boy that he is, he thought he better pray about how he was going to help pay for the tailgate repairs! I suppose I am thankful that he isn't praying about how his mom screamed and yelled at him. I will count that as a win today in the midst of the crushed metal, early rising, think-I'm-going-to-vomit Saturday we've had at the Edwards home today.
I share this to say, someone needs to hear your story today. Be brave. Be a guest blogger. You don't know how your testimony will shape someone's day, someone's children, someone's tomorrow.
Roots of Anger
Written by Guest Blogger Jennifer McGowen
My name
is Jennifer McGowen. Let me tell you a little bit about myself before we begin. I’m born and raised in
Charlotte, North Carolina. Went to NC State University in Raleigh, graduated
with a degree in Animal Science, because back then I thought I wanted to be a
vet. During my senior year I realized I didn’t really want to be a vet. I
didn’t want to take biochemistry. I didn’t really want to work 80 hour work
weeks. I didn’t really want to be in ½ million dollars debt and start out making
around $40,000. I didn’t know what I wanted to do at that point, but I was
enjoying finishing up college.
One
week before I graduated, I met a boy. One of those moments when he walked into
the room and everything was shining right on him. He was Davis, and within just
a few months into dating we knew we wanted to be each other’s forevers.
After
graduating I worked as a vet tech at a local vet hospital, and Davis was
finishing his senior of college. I then realized I wanted to go to nursing
school. I saw how great nursing was for raising families and not having to work
80 hour work weeks. Just after we got married I got into nursing school. One
and a half years later I graduated from UNC Chapel Hill. Just before finishing
school I got the job offer of a lifetime at Rex Hospital in Raleigh in labor
and delivery: only because a good college friend of mine’s worked in human
resources, and basically put my application on top of 800 others on the nurse
manager’s desk. I was so excited, I was going to get to deliver babies at the
hospital who delivers the most babies in the whole state of NC! Usually someone
has to die in order for a position to open up in labor and delivery, and here I
was fresh out of nursing school getting to start.
Not but
3 days later, I was home with my husband when he gets a phone call. He’s
getting a promotion to move him to Myrtle Beach. I couldn’t believe it! I grew
up vacationing to Myrtle Beach every year! I mean, it’s the beach! BUT I had the job of a lifetime! We talked
for a few days of how we could make it work with me living Raleigh 3-4 days a
week and then joining him in Myrtle the other days. We were newly married, we figured it could
work. But then we decided that since we
were still young and freshly 2 years married, it was best that we start a new
chapter together in South Carolina. I
know I cried my eyes out, leaving the house we thought was going to be our
forever home for 30+ years. My mom even
said once, “Can’t you just stay in NC and Davis go work there?” I said, “No
mom, I’m going with him.”
Two
months later we packed up our house and moved to Myrtle Beach. THE very day the movers came I pulled Davis
to the side. “So you know that thing that starts on a Wednesday every 4 weeks
in the morning for the past someTEEN years of my life? Um well it didn’t start
today.” “Are you worried?” He said. “No,
I bet it’s just stress from the move.” Several days later after being here, I
was working on getting a job. I walked into Grand Strand Medical Center and
spoke with a lady in HR, and she told me a position I’d be perfect for. We didn’t have internet yet so I had to go
the public library to apply for the position. After leaving I thought, “You
know this predictable every 28 day visitor still hasn’t shown up.” I swung by the Dollar Tree on the way home,
because I knew from nursing school it was the same “pee in a cup” pregnancy
test that your doctor gives you. As soon
as I got back into my car the nurse manager from 3 East called and said “Your
application and resume look amazing, can you come in in 1 hour to interview?”
“Sure!” I said. I called Davis to meet
me at home because I needed him to drive me. So silly of me to think it was a
good idea to take a pregnancy test 45 minutes before a job interview. What was
I thinking. Well, sure enough, positive. Elation, vomiting, crying, calling my
best friend all ensued. Davis walks through the door and I tell him. That face.
That is a face I’ll never forget. That smile and tears in his eyes I’ll never
forget.
I end
up getting the job. We have a baby 8 months later. And fast forward 5 years, Davis
has had 3 more promotions and I work PRN, or basically 2-4 days a month at the
hospital mainly weekends. AND we have a
5 year old, 3 year old, and just turned 1 year old.
I tell
you all of that because I don’t remember being angry or mad back then. I remember getting upset about certain events
or situations. I don’t remember holding
onto things that made me mad back then.
B U T we didn’t have kids. We didn’t have jobs that required more than
we thought we could give. (And by jobs I mean paid jobs and dad duties and mom
duties.)
In the
past five years, I have been so angry that I’ve thrown remotes at the wall.
I’ve gotten so angry I kicked 2 holes in the wall, the last one I was one inch
on either side from kicking a stud, and that would have broken my foot, which
would have made me even more angry. I have been so angry that I screamed at the
top of my lungs for about 30 seconds straight and then was hoarse after. I’ve
been so angry I just collapsed to the floor and bawled my eyes out.
This
week I made dinner as usual around 5:15.
Now with a kid in elementary school, I pretty much have to feed dinner
at 5, baths at 6 and bedtime by 7. I
made the most sophisticated meal that actually takes me so much time in the
kitchen. I had to start the fire in my built
in kiln, then I had to unfasten the sides of the package, place this round
sustenance into the kiln and establish the correct cooking period to enable
perfection. 18 minutes later, I cut this pizza into tiny kid sized pie-slices,
arranged so neatly onto a paper plate with grapes and apple slices, and voila,
a feast. Big kids Ada and Thomas started eating. The 1 year old, Jayson,
buckled into her high chair for her keyboard letter size pieces of cheese pizza
heaven. I actually made a grown up salad for Davis and me. I devoured mine
while standing in the kitchen between getting milk cups and napkins and cutting
things smaller and whining this and “I can’t scoot closer!” crying. Around 6 pm
Davis walks in. Everyone is so happy to see him. I make him an actual plate of
supper to enjoy at the table with the kids, and before he can even take his
shoes off, Thomas is crying that he needs to go to the bathroom but it’s too
dark in the hallway and he can’t go. Davis is trying to convince him to just
go, just go! Just go already to the bathroom. He even turned on the light for
him. I’m now sitting at the table finishing my salad and pizza, when now Ada,
Thomas, and Davis are in the bathroom or right outside the bathroom or the
hallway, or something, either way. This is what I hear.
Ada “I
was just taking my shirt off!” Davis “Well I don’t know why you need to take
your shirt off to go poopoo but you’re taking too long.” Thomas “But I really needed to go!” Davis
“Well next time don’t take so long when you said you needed to go.” Thomas
continues to cry, comes to me. It’s the not real I’m hurt cry. Yall know this
whine. Davis “Thomas you’d better hurry before someone else in this house goes
before you. You’d better hurry before Jayson goes.” Thomas now whining crying
walking back to the bathroom, “Jayson just goes in her diaper.” Davis “Well
most of the time.” Thomas walks down the hall weepily out loud crying and goes to
the bathroom. 30 minutes AFTER I’ve made Davis’s plate he sits down to eat.
I’m
cleaning up at this point and all I can say to him is, “See?! Do you see why
I’ve gone crazy?!”
My
husband always says to me, “Why are you so angry? Why are you so angry all the
time?” I respond “I’m not angry I’m just
mad!” Of course that response is just because part of me doesn’t want my
husband to be right all the time. Of course me saying “I’m just mad” makes me
feel like somehow that’s not as bad as angry.
When
researching about this anger topic, I was surprised to find this:
It is common in informal everyday expressions for the word
"mad" to be used for "angry." Anger" (Angry) means a
strong displeasure and antagonism directed toward the cause of a possible wrong
or injustice. Example: I am angry.
Madness (Mad) means a suffering from or manifesting severe mental disorder; insane; lunatic; psychotic; crazy. Example: Madness is a severe mental disorder.
Madness (Mad) means a suffering from or manifesting severe mental disorder; insane; lunatic; psychotic; crazy. Example: Madness is a severe mental disorder.
So of
course after reading this I was like “Damnit, he’s right. Er well, wait a
minute, I mean he’s right because he thinks I’m just displeased with so many
things all the time. But also, I could be right, because being in charge of 3
small people all day long is driving me crazy!”
Let’s
try this little quiz. I’m going to give an example and chose whether you think
it means angry or mad.
1. If a
person is mentally ill to the point of being insane, we may say that the person
is angry/mad.
2.
Mother is angry/mad about
your report card.
3. The
person became so wrathful and loud that we feared the person was angry/mad.
4. Do
you know that I am really angry/mad
with you?
5. The
player got angry/mad
when the referee called a foul.
6. You
must always be in control when you become angry/mad.
7. You
must be angry/mad if you
think I’m going to help you rob a bank!
8.
Seeing things that aren’t there can be an indication that someone is angry/mad.
So it
turns out, I’m actually not mad all the time. And in all honesty I’m not angry
all the time, but my husband only sees me at the end of every very long day,
where I have been talked to TOO much, asked TOO many questions, touched WAY too
many times, NOT sat down, NOT peed by myself, had to talk TOO many people out of
back breaking meltdowns and tantrums, convinced TOO many people that a scratch
was not going to kill them and did not need 4 bandaids, cleaned up the high chair
from 3 meals, picked up a gallon size amount of food up off the floor from
around the high chair, wiped every bottom and changed clothes…
As
God’s children, we are all born with sin. Anger itself is not a sin. Sin is a transgression against God. Sometimes we as Christian women
might confuse our anger with thinking we’ve sinned, and that only messes more with
our ability to think rationally and reasonably. I can tell you that anger
always makes me think IRrationally, and UNreasonably.
Anger has 3 forms, raise your hand if it’s:
- immediately explosive and blowing up
- stewing, brewing
- irritability, exasperation or resentment.
Silent
anger is just as offensive to God as explosive anger. How are you prone to
express your anger? Throwing a plate at the wall? Slamming doors? Yelling at
the kids? Blaming their spilled cup or plate on all the other angry things in
your life?
Here
are some things that make me angry:
- -being hot
- -my shirt being pulled down by kids
- -stubbing my pinky toe again and again
- -“Momma, Momma, Momma, Momma, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, MA! MA! MA! MA!” “WHAT?!” ok hopefully you all know that form Family Guy
- -the thought of any child going hungry or living with people who don’t love them and tell them they’re loved and hug them and rock them
- -the presidential race this year
- -the retired community in Myrtle Beach who think that they’ve lived a hard 67 years and cut me off with their shopping carts or don’t hold open doors for me or keep driving when they see I’m wearing 1 child and holding hands with 2 others.
- -kids pulling my glasses off or whacking me in my glasses
- -my guilt of the things that I haven’t gotten done yet.
Mandy
Arioto, the president and CEO of MOPs and author of Starry-Eyed, wrote about that
anger is like fire – it can be used to save the world or burn it. With all that
power it is no wonder we don’t know what to do with it. And so me yelling at
Davis at the end of the night is because I don’t really know what to do with
all the fire inside of me.
Being a
Christian woman, maybe we think that we’re not supposed to get angry. Mandy the
president of MOPs said that’s why she finds Jesus so fascinating. “He got angry
and was completely unpredictable. Even the friends he hung out with every day
weren’t sure how he was going to respond in certain situations. One day he is
embracing a woman who slept with a married guy, saving her from getting stoned
to death, and the next day he is throwing tables around in the church and
yelling at the religious leaders for creating rules that were too much for
anyone to follow. Some people find this disturbing, a God who gets angry, but I
would find it more disturbing to think about following a God who sees
exploitation and injustice and does not get angry. After all, some things are
worth getting angry about and other things are just inconveniences to be
acknowledged. Anger is simply an emotion – what defines it is what we do with
it.”
So here
are some tips for what we can do with our anger, find a justice to the injustice:
So when
I’m hot, I’ll just start taking my clothes off. If I’m not wearing a shirt there’s no
shirt for a kid to pull down.
Instead
of constantly stubbing my pinky toe, I’ll wear shoes.
When we
see terrible things in the world, we won’t be tempted to be angry at God, we
will be angry alongside God.
Kelly
Gray, a licensed practical counselor, wrote a great article for Hello Dearest,
the monthly MOPs newsletter, in July called The Roots of Anger. She describes
having a safe word at her house. If someone declares themselves to be “flooded”
or they suspect someone is flooded, the expectations for that moment must
shift. Flooded means someone is totally overwhelmed, melting down, has lost
their rational thinking and therefore is at a great risk to say or do something
regrettable. Saying “I’m flooded” means get clear, slow down, stop speaking,
don’t provoke and don’t corner.
This is
me often. When I have obligated myself
to too many obligations, whether out loud confirmations to friends for
playdates or whether I’m thinking in my head all the obligations I have, like
grocery shopping or running errands, I get flooded. But I have no one to take
it out on except Davis at the end of the day.
He hasn’t been there all day, but somehow I make it all his fault. That’s when he says “Why are you so angry?!”
Kelly
Gray, that LPC I just mentioned said these are ways to get to the roots of your
anger:
Make sure your spouse and close friends know
your triggers. Say it to them out loud.
“You know when you come home and it’s the end of the day and dinner
isn’t cooked and the house is a mess and the kids are screaming and I need to
wrap a present for our niece’s birthday?! I’m flooded.” This enables them to mobilize quickly to help
ground and comfort you when you’re spinning out; a quick text to the right
person in a hard moment can bring a dose of relief.What doesn’t help moms get calmer or more patient is beating ourselves up, demanding patience from ourselves when we have none to give or never exploring our triggers and just hoping they don’t come back again.
So once you’ve figured out your roots of anger, and hopefully it’s really just anger and not true madness, figure out what you’re going to do with that anger. If you or someone you know have gone to counseling, hopefully they’ve learned cognitive behavioral therapy, which means: I can’t control the event or situation, only how I respond. Learning how to respond with your anger is key. It’s ok to be upset. Take a time out, say you’re flooded, take a walk, lock yourself in the bathroom. Pray about what is important to you: the health and safety of you and your family. Hopefully you can return to the situation in a better state.
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