2017 Year End Review

Every year, I do an year end review of sorts. It's nice to be reminded of what I walked through and where I'm at now. I've come a long way from where I started, but I'm nowhere near where I'm going to end up.

Here is 2017, in numbers and words.

365 – number of days in the past year.

12 – number of months.

4 – number of seasons (except in TN where we have Almost Summer, Summer, Still Summer, Christmas, and Holy Crap, I Thought This Was December, How is it STILL SUMMER, and OK, just go ahead and open the windows–no wait don't, there's a tornado, and There It Is! SNOW.... Wait, no it's gone.... 70 degrees and Ice Storms back to Summer...)

3 – number of biological kiddos who get to call me mom.

A dozen and counting – number of kiddos I get to call mine.

10,000,000 – number of times I messed up.

10,000,001 – number of times I was forgiven

Somewhere between 1 and 10,000 – number of times I got life wrong

Somewhere between 1 and 10,000 – number of times I got it right

Way more than 365 – number of kisses kissed.

Way more than 365 – number of hugs hugged.

About a billion – number of prayers prayed.

Daily – frequency of miracles witnessed. 

4 – number of blogs I wrote (including this one), thereby awakening a passion and calling I need to develop, foster, and cultivate. 

I WILL do better in the year (and years) to come in funneling the words that travel from my heart to head to print. I MUST be more disciplined. 

2 – (up from one last year) number of Audience of One Productions I've been in, thereby reigniting a passion and dream I though was long dead. 

And this time, I went a little bigger.

I will be more intentional in seeking out opportunities and availing myself to building, and walking in, the confidence I know is in me to do better and go bigger on the stage. It's in me. It always has been. I will not allow myself to think I'm less than what I am... which is READY. I'M BACK!

1 – REAL writing job that has allowed me to learn and grow and create. Which, in turn, has led to multiple leads and other work. The opportunity to do what I never knew I could; that honestly, I was scared of, came out of seemingly nowhere. I know that's not the case. Those seemingly out-of-nowhere instances happen a lot more now that they don't go unnoticed in my life. From nowhere, I'm going somewhere.

And, I like where I'm heading. 

1 – amazing, humble, gentle, supportive, risk taking, always stable, rock of a husband who has walked with me through the 20+ years leading up to this one. 

Lots – of friends, new and old, who are choosing to journey with me. 

2017 challenged me. It was messy and grand. It was full of surprises and the mundane. I cannot and will not say I loved every minute of it. I am not the same as when it opened. I'm grateful for its final curtain. It was a good run. I was not left wanting.

How has 2017 treated you? What are your hopes for 2018? What are you going to do to see them come to fruition? 

My prayer is that we don't live the same year twice.

2018 has the bar set high.  Bring it!

Rule Breakers

I'm sitting at a coffee shop. Listening to Of Mice And Men and Vance Joy. Drinking a caramel macchiato (the American Starbucks-y version, not the authentic one I hope to have when I grow up).
And writing a blog. That's a grown-up thing to do, right?

I'm supposed to be "working". Writing real stuff. Important stuff about pediatric root canals and geriatric dental issues and Prosthodontics, but I'm not.

Instead, I'm watching my first born sit with a group of 20-somethings discussing art with her favorite artist that she's been following on Instagram for a while. I'm in a corner, trying my best to not look creeper-ish, while in total awe and denial that my little girl is almost 17 and in her last year of high school. She has friends who are in their 20s. She has a real job. She makes to-do lists. Completes them. Then makes more lists. Then completes those. She bought her own vehicle. She pays for her own gas and insurance. She pays for her classes that she takes at the local university. I still haven't taught her anything. I think she's learned pretty much everything on her own.

She's better at adulting than me. Actually, I think she was born adulting. She's way beyond her years.
I'm 40 and I THINK I'm just now learning how to adult. Maybe.

I've also been in a little bit of a foggy place coming to grips with the fact that my middle child is 13 and in the throes of being a 13-year-old boy. He's handling it better than I am. He's a good kid. Kind. Respectful. Generous. Polite. Smart. Funny. And, if I'm being honest, he's becoming quite the handsome guy. He looks like his dad.

But, he acts like me.

Sometimes that's not so fun for me. Or, him. We clash on some things because we're both very strong personalities. That's not necessarily bad. It's just something we get to navigate and figure out how and when to concede and compromise. It's a process and a journey, for sure, but there isn't any other kid on the planet that I'd rather be on this road with. He's a good human. And, good humans do extraordinary things.

There's also the 10-year-old knower of all things interesting and trivial. He's an observer. He watches. And opines. He has a HUGE vocabulary and understands deeper things than a 10-year-old should. He's an old soul. He's a fan of gardening and 1000 piece puzzles and he's always cold. He's going to sit behind a computer some day and probably make a lot of zeros on his paychecks. He'll do smartical things and make the world smarter too.

People tell me that I have "good kids'. I do. Most of the time.
One woman, whom I deeply respect, told me on a Sunday at church that I have great kids. I told her to text me that on a random Thursday at 2 pm because I might need the reminder.
She did. The following Thursday at 2:04.
I needed the reminder.

Here's the thing. It's kind of a big thing. Or, maybe not, but whatever.
It's the thing about how teenagers are supposed to be angst ridden and disrespectful and terrible.
And, the other thing...The one about how we're not supposed to be their friends, just their parent.

Who made those rules? Why do we have to follow them? Why do otherwise respectful, kind, good kids have to become horrible hermity hooligans when they hit 13? Why do we as parents have to stop liking our kids and just start punishing and disciplining the spirit and passion out of them?

I'm by no means a childhood development expert. Not a psychologist. Not formally educated on the subject. So, my opinions and questions are exactly that. Opinions and questions.

The only school I've been trained in is the one I created by literally making my own students and test subjects. They have no clue that I'm making up the curricula as I go. Everyone is alive and for the most part, we all like each other, so I think we're doing pretty good.
We had conversations early on in pubescence that just because there's this unwritten rule that they had to be ridiculously rebellious teenage mutant creaturesque versions of themselves, that it didn't mean they had to follow it. One of them told me that if they were going to rebel, they might as well rebel against that. I'm on board with that kind of rebellion.

Some rules were meant to be broken. That's definitely one of them.
And, there's the other one about not being their friend. I broke that one too.

Please don't get me wrong. We have our DAYS. Holy Lord who created emotions and growing pains, do we have our days, but it's just that. A bad day. Sometimes, not even a day. Maybe a few hours. Or, a morning. It happens.
We yell. We scream. We cry. We let our words get away from us.
And slam doors. And cuss. And want to run away.

That last part is usually just me.

Then, we deal. We pray raw prayers. We apologize. We forgive. We move on.
We refuse to live there. Even if we camp out there over night, WE REFUSE TO LIVE THERE.

There's no reason to dig a pit to which you know you will go back and willingly hurl yourself into.

I'm not an expert. And, if you're still reading, I sure do wish that I could give you a cookie and some sort of drink or reward for letting me go on this long.

My take away from raising "good kids" so far is that good kids don't just happen. I cannot tell you how many conversations that I've had with their Creator about how He designed them and why on earth He thought that it was a good idea that I mom them. I fail. A whole stinkin' lot. If it wasn't for their dad being as close to Superman as non-super hero-ly possible and The Creator and Lover of their souls and mine, I'd probably be a staple on the nightly news. Prayer works, y'all. It does. We're all living proof of that.

Friendship and breaking the rules helps too.

Thank You, Tiny Infant Baby Jesus for growing up into a teenager who grew into a man whoso loved the world that He gave Himself. Help me help my kids grow into the teenagers that grow into revolutionaries that change the world. Their world. My world. And the world you gave them to play, live, and work in.

Amen.


What have been your experiences with your teenagers? What are your concerns? What are your victories? Failures? Advice?

Leave your stories in the comments.

Concerning Charlottesville

                                   
Just yesterday, before Charlottesville made it above the fold, I had a conversation with a friend of color about the unjust and unsolicited "advice" he's gotten from people because of his skin.

We weren't talking about the 50s. Or the 60s. Or 70s, 80s, 90s, or early 2000s.

We were talking about today.

"You boys from around here?
....You plannin' on stayin'?
.....You better not be back here when I go down there and come back....."

He told me of a billboard that was on an interstate that read something along the lines of:

"A black man was shot and killed here because he was out here after dark.
Verdict: NOT GUILTY"

He also told me of the downright bigotry and prejudice that he faces in his own neighborhood that he's lived in his entire adult life.

Not only because he's not white,
but because his wife is.
And shock of all shock, their kids are mixed.

Apparently, people don't take too kindly to kids who don't have their mama's milky white skin tone but look closer to their daddy's rich, darker shade.

He told me how a "neighbor" of his keeps confusing him with "the other black guy" in the neighborhood, even though the other guy looks nothing like him and stands a good 5 or 6 inches taller and is of a slimmer build.

HOW IS THIS STILL HAPPENING??

By the way, all black people DON'T look the same, in case anyone is confused.

This is not a matter of education.
Education can't save.

This is not a matter of colorblindness.
God isn't colorblind. Otherwise, we'd all have the same melanin.

This is not even a matter of seeing eye to eye.
You can stand with someone at eye level and never even look at them.

It's a matter of seeing INTO each other's eyes.

It's a matter of seeing color and celebrating its beauty. Its story. Its history.

And, it's a matter of valuing someone else above ourselves.

Until we realize that this kind of stuff DOES happen, even if it doesn't happen to us, we actually perpetuate the brokenness.

Just because we get to live in a bubble doesn't mean that everyone floats above it all.

It's time to commit.

Called Scared

Have you ever been scared to do something you know that you're supposed to do? Called to do? And you know it's a completely unfounded fear because, well, you're CALLED to do it. And you know you're called to do it because you have been running from it - and it always, ALWAYS - catches up with you, beckoning you back to the path you've so painstakingly avoided. 

You can't get away from a calling. You can run, but you can't hide. 
Have you tried it? 
It's impossible.

I know from experience.

It's been almost a year since I posted my last blog. I actually just went back and read it. It speaks to this very issue. 
It screamed at me, really....Through a megaphone....Plugged into an amp. 

Almost a YEAR that I've been running from this whole writing thing. I know it may not seem like a big deal to you, but it's massive to me. Many a night I've been up with words swirling around in my mind that need to be released. Those words have gotten trapped in my heart. They need an escape. 

I need an escape. 

Even if no one reads or listens, I'm certain that my calling is wrapped up in words. Tangled up, maybe. I'm learning that the only way to unravel my thoughts is to write them out. I'm learning to be obedient to my calling. I'm deciding to follow the lead of the One who whispers in my ear. He calls out. I follow His words. Which, surprisingly enough, He turns into MY words. 

Crazy how the God of the universe speaks to us in our own language. 
Through our own filter. 

It's taken a while for me to get used to hearing His thoughts and not dismissing them. 
Sometimes I think, "Noooooo, that's not YOU, that's just my wishful thinking"... Or, "Nooooo, that's WAY TOO BIG or WAY TOO INCREDIBLE a goal"... 
Or - the one that throws me for a loop almost every time - "That's ridiculous for me to even DREAM of doing or having THAT..."

Funny thing is, is that The Creator of ALL GOOD GIFTS wants us to have His good gifts! He wants us to follow our calling. After all, He's the one who has called us! 

If we choose to not think the thoughts, or accept the gifts, that He wants us to have, then we by default, are choosing to not accept the life He has in store for us. We choose to hold onto mediocrity. We choose to live mundane, monotonous, boring, unremarkable lives. We choose insipid and tasteless. We choose blah. 

So, I've decided to do myself a favor and heed my calling. It will bring me freedom. Maybe it may lead others to their freedom as well.

I was scared. Still am. I'm gonna do it scared. 

Are you running from something? Do you KNOW you're calling? Do you know what you're supposed to do? What is it? Speak it out. Call it forth! Name it. Decide to do it. 

Even if you have to do it scared!

Join the club. I think you'll find that you're in good company. We are all here for a purpose. We have a calling. 
                             


And, I'm pretty certain that the One who called you won't let you fall.