Why I Am A Book Banner

Robin Bible Study, Growth, Uncategorized March 19, 2023Family, imperfection, learning, parenting, paying attention

(longer than ususal with some graphic content)

The images almost all seem to be taken at night; the stark contrast of the dark sky with an enormous pile of hard-backed books engulfed in flames. Blond-haired, blue-eyed zealots screaming in victory with their swastika bands and Nazi values literally (pun intended) filling the air around them as the books burn in idea-controlling victory.

Yeah. That’s not me.

I am an advocate for tax dollars not purchasing vulgar or sexually explicit materials.

And rational conversation. I am an advocate to try to bring rational conversations back.

Last year I submitted a Book Reconsideration Form to my local public library for the book Blue Is the Warmest Color by Jul Maroh. I thought my premise was obvious: Cartoon depictions of graphic sex acts should be considered pornography.

Simple. Clear. In my opinion, reasonable.

I submitted my request (with attached photocopies of the actual book), and my request was denied.

Now, I am not an expert on pornography or sexually explicit material. It is not a piercing part of my story, nor has it ever been a struggle for me. (Or, to my knowledge, for my husband.) But in my limited experience and talk-show-watching-in-the-90’s knowledge, nearly everyone (of the stories I’ve heard) whose life was ripped apart by pornography addiction said the same thing: The first exposure to sexually explicit material was by accident.

They didn’t seek it out. They didn’t go to the corner liquor store and buy it. It was grandpa’s–hidden under the bed; or a cousin took them out back by the big oak tree and said, “Wanna see something?”

And the body responded without permission. From then on, they wanted more.

I would like to try to make less of that available in society. I think sexually explicit graphic novels tucked safely on library shelves are a risk.

Once my original request was denied, I took the next directed step, which was to present the matter to the library board.

Blue is The Warmest Color is a coming-of-age story about a teenage girl discovering she’s a lesbian. The sexual orientation of the story is irrelevant to my plea because in a graphic novel sketch of a teenager writhing in ecstasy as she receives oral sex, the gender of the person performing said act isn’t clear. It’s a back and back of a head.

Coincidence or not, once I submitted the request to make a presentation to library board the librarian chose to move the meeting to a larger public venue and rescheduled it to the first day of PRIDE month.

While I still believe these conversations are better had face to face over coffee, public speaking is in my wheelhouse, so the change of venue and filling the audience with angry people on both sides wasn’t a big deal for me. I was ready to move the conversation forward.

For the first time in my life, I actually put together a slide presentation.

I was clear. I was factual. I provided an alternative–simply ask the publisher to produce a version of the story without the nudity and illustrations of sex. Rap artists often have less explicit lyric versions of their somgs available for public consumption, asking library books to do the same is a viable alternative.

Once I was finished and sat back down, the audience was able to comment and it got a bit dicey. The police removed a woman from the audience. Both sides yelled. Some people made great points. Others screamed louder.

If I had to do it again, I would have stood up front as the speakers came up, so that they could talk (or shout) directly to me. Again, we need more conversations and I am not afraid of being yelled at.

One woman found me in the audience, looked at me and said, “I don’t think this is pornography.” So, at a break, I sat down next to her and what she did think was pornography.

“Why? So, you can be right?” She countered.

“No, because I think that is the next logical question to reach understanding,” I answered.

Less than a minute later she said, “I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” Okay. I thought we could find common ground. I was wrong.

For clarity’s purposes, and because it is mostly true, this is often presented as a left vs. right issue. I am solidly on the right. People on the “right” are called book banners because they have mounted together and started calling for what they/we believe to be indecent material to be removed from tax-payed for public and school libraries.

The left opposes that.

One of the most often used arguments from citizens on the left is: Why don’t you just do your job as parents and you decide what books your kids can read?

I’m a parent. My kids read…a lot. I honestly never could have read everything they read before they read it unless I only allowed them to read books I’ve read over the course of my life. Back in the day, it wasn’t uncommon to spend $150 in books at the Christian bookstore, and have my kids read every book we bought by the end of the weekend.

Both of my older kids read the 900 page Harry Potter book in two days.

I could do that, too, if I did nothing else which is the difference between being a kiddo and being an adult.

I did parent. In fact, I was one of “those” parents. My kids were always the last in their peer groups to get cell phones. We never had cable TV in the house. We had a timer on our internet that turned off at 11 every night.

But we also carved out areas where they could have freedom and autonomy; the ability to discover and think for themselves in places where their safety could be reasonably assumed.

I think the library should be such a place.

And I said so and was denied. The really fascinating thing to me was that after my brilliant presentation (okay…maybe not brilliant, but clearly effort-filled) not one of the nay-voting library board members, nor the librarian, nor the sour faced city attorney (all women) approached me.

None of them.

Never before in any of my public service or public debate moments has this happened. There has ALWAYS–every single time–been someone with a different vantage point come afterwards and say, “Thanks for sharing.”

That is no longer the world we live in.

But I still think that the battle against sexually explicit or vulgar literature freely available to kids is worth fighting.

So I submitted another BOOK RECONSIDERATION REQUEST for the book ALL BOYS AREN’T BLUE by George M. Johnson. I included these quotes directly from the book:

“He reached his hand down and pulled out my dick. He quickly went to giving me head.” Page 268: “I remember the condom was blue and flavored like cotton candy. I put some lube on and got him up to his knees, and I began to slide into him from behind. I tried not to force it because I imagined it might be painful; I didn’t want this moment to be painful.”

And:

“There is a fear, as with most things you are doing for the first time. But this was my ass, and I was struggling to imagine someone inside me. And he was…large.”

That’s not what I want my kids grabbing out of the young adult section of the library. That’s actually not what I want my tax dollars paying for.

Make no mistake, I am also the Bible Study teacher who railed against 50 Shades of Grey. I posited then, loudly and clearly, that Christian women were likely the #1 demographic for getting the book on Kindle because they wanted to read it, but they didn’t want anyone to see them reading it. I thought Christian women should not do that, told them so, and watched many squirm in their seats.

I’m a delight.

ANYHOW…the argument that the librarian uses to defend the denials is that the books are in line with the American Library Association.

I think it is a legitimate to ask: Do you believe the public library should strive to be politically neutral and morally decent?

If you voted for Biden, would you want someone who attended the Trump Rally in Washington DC on January 6, 2021, to be the head of the ALA?

The reality is that the American Library Association is an overwhelmingly left-leaning organization. You can go here to see where they make their political donations. The current head of the ALA is Emily Drabinski. She is a contributing writer at Truthout. This is a quote from her:

I just cannot believe that a Marxist lesbian who believes that collective power is possible to build and can be wielded for a better world is the president-elect of @ALALibrary. I am so excited for what we will do together. Solidarity!

— Emily Drabinski (@edrabinski) April 13, 2022

Whether or not you agree with anything or everything, do you believe that is neutrality?

For a person like me, who moved out of California and to East Texas on purpose, the local librarian using the ALA as a defense is neither neutral, nor an honest reflection of the local demographic.

These topics often lead to in-person and online discussions that are HEATED. While I agree with the goals of people on the right, I find myself going toe to toe with them over approach as often as I go at it with people on the left over decency.

Both sides are too vague for me. The shouting matches often lack specific information that might be helpful. Let me fill in some gaps with MY OPINION. I can not read the future through a crystal ball, but I can articulate my fears and explain why I am scared.

I am afraid the next level on the downward slide is to normalize sexual activity between adults and children. Here are some indications I see:

The attempt to change the term “pedophile” to “minor attracted person”
The use of cartoons (graphic novels) to illustrate graphic sex
The increased use of the term “age of consent” and the number of places where that “age” is getting younger

To be transparent about my concerns, I believe there is a current in the stream of the transgender movement whose real goal is the legalization of sex between adults and kids. It is a lateral move to go from “An 8 year old should be able to choose their sex” (gender) to “An 8 year old should be able to choose sex” (have intercourse).

In 15 years, if that ^^^ has not happened, I will weep tears of joy as I happily admit I was wrong.

The book that solidified that fear and breaks my heart more than any other; the one that kept me up at night praying for the kid I am about to quote; the book that presents an idea without any correction or explanation or shouting from the rooftops “I AM SO SORRY THAT EVER HAPPENED TO YOU” is the book BEYOND MAGENTA.

It is a collection of stories of transitioning/transitioned transgender teenagers. On page 80 it says:

“I was sexually mature. What I mean by sexually mature is that I knew about sex. From six up, I used to kiss other guys in my neighborhood, make out with them, and perform oral sex on them. I liked it. I used to love oral.”

Oh, you precious little six year old…no one knows about that at 6 unless someone has done something terrible to you. You never deserved it. Someone should be in prison. I am so sorry that ever happened to you.

And as tragic as that was for you, those other kids in your neighborhood will now see you as their abuser, because six year olds are not supposed to have those things happen to them by kids or by adults.

I simply cannot understand why we don’t agree on this.

Picture it in your mind: A man is committed to grooming young kids. He’s dressed in a black outfit with a white collar. He takes an 8 year old by the hand, leaves the church and they walk to the local library together. He pulls the book off the shelf and they sit down at the table.

He turns to page 80 and with his finger goes to the part on the page. “I was sexually mature…I [love] oral.”

He puts his hand on the child’s shoulder and says, “Mature at 6? You are 8. They loved it. Do you think maybe you might, too?”

That is why I am a book banner.

We have a mental health crisis in this country. We are never going to be able to address it effectively if we cannot even agree on what is sick.

Or have a reasonable conversation about it.

Which is why I won’t stop trying.

Conversations On The Couch: Gratitude for great counseling

Robin Uncategorized December 5, 2022counseling, imperfection, Moments, paying attention

I plop down on the couch, again. A year’s worth of Wednesdays collected.

There is a phrase familiar to those familiar with 12 Step Recovery: Terminal Uniqueness. It is the idea that always having to be different–more complicated–life is worse for me than you–no one could possibly understand–I am unique–is ultimately a terminal disease because there can be no known solution if no one could possibly get you.

I don’t want to be that person.

So I sit, once a week, and flesh out the things about my life I want to change with someone I choose to trust.

I discovered, early on, that he and I have very similar worldviews, and so I ask him questions about living out my faith under the circumstances that I face.

How do I do this well?

*****

Peopling is hard.

The journey with my own people (family and friends) has been challenging me. I am constantly traveling to the land of Failure; or at least feels like I am heading toward the land of Failure.

I shift my weight a bit on the couch as I explain that doesn’t necessarily scare me. What is more terrifying (most of the time) is the thought of nothing changing.

Who do I want to be?

*****

I miss being active in ministry. Teaching Bible Study and planning projects were sources of great joy and great purpose (and sometimes great conflict) and always great growth.

But I do believe in seasons, and this happens to be a season of mundane service by comparison. Stewarding my mom’s journey to the end, and now my Dad’s, is not fun, but it is where I am called to be.

I am reminded that an audience of One is all I can handle. There is so much disapproval to be handed out; so many “that doesn’t work”s and “you’re doing it wrong”s flung my way that I have to center on the Lord and HIS calling.

Am I being faithful to YOU?

*****

“I am increasingly convinced,” I tell him, sitting comfortably on the couch, “that one cannot be in victim mode AND solution mode at the same time.” He nods in agreement.

And so, I must choose to look at the situations I face, either indulged in the compromised position of victimhood or actively looking for keys to positive change. This does not mean there are not times when I really am a victim, sometimes I am; it simply means that I cannot find solutions if my focus is in the wrong direction.

I am also mostly convinced that people don’t want solutions, especially if they require effort. Which brings me back to the number of times I hear, “That won’t work.”

Do I really want things to get better enough to change what I am doing?

*****

This past summer, I took a road trip with my three kids and the dog, who is sometimes naughty. We traveled 3,775 miles from Texas to Vermont and back.

The dog was a perfect traveler every single mile in the car. State after state, stop after stop, he had no accidents.

He was quiet in almost every hotel room–except the sketchy one we stayed at in Buffalo, New York– and no one could blame him for that. He was just doing his job, and we still wonder what was being vacuumed in the room above us at 3:30 in the morning.

However, what we remember the most about the dog on the trip are the two seconds in which he snapped at my daughter’s boyfriend. Even though we knew he should be muzzled when he meets new people, we didn’t do it. Because of one tiny moment, all his beautiful behavior faded into the background of memory. It was an infinitesimal percentage of naughtiness that stands out most vividly.

I am like my dog. Sometimes, no matter how much good I do, I am judged solely on my weakest moments.

When I remember this, I go play with the dog and tell him I remember the good, too…

Can I accept, with grace, that life simply isn’t fair?

*****

“Assertiveness is the goal,” my counselor explains. He has a teacher’s heart and sometimes illustrates concepts using the whiteboard in his office.

Whiteboard conversations are some of my favorite things–ask anyone who has done Bible Study with me.

“Being passive rarely leads to satisfaction in life; aggressiveness fractures relationships; passive-aggressiveness is insidiously destructive.” Being assertive and making my wants and needs understood with clarity doesn’t mean I get what I want. It means I am approaching my life in the healthiest way possible.

“Results,” he gently reminds me, “are the Lord’s business.”

“I know,” I say smiling, “but sometimes I hate that.”

Will I actually trust YOU with results?

*****

With time, life shifts.

It’s easier to find things going well in my marriage. I keep my cool and almost never lose my temper.

I am learning to have adult relationships with my grown kids, and I know they know I’m on their side.

He reminds me of a principle he has shared before. “Do you mind if I text that to myself?” I ask. “I was thinking about that very thing the other day, but couldn’t remember the specific terminology.”

He smiles and nods.

Am I trying to solve a problem or win a battle?”

I remind myself of this saying each time the air in the room changes, and relational chills begin to encroach. For a once-battle-ready-warrior who is now battle-weary, I want the problems in my life to be solved–not just ignored in the hopes they go away.

In order to do that well, I continue to type out my prayer journal ~~daily~~ often, read the Bible, and plop on the couch once a week. I suspect I will continue to do so for the foreseeable future.

It Doesn’t Always Go This Way

Robin Grace, Growth, Meltdowns, Moments, Special Needs Families, Uncategorized June 29, 2016imperfection, parenting, paying attention

School got out two weeks ago tomorrow.

Since then we have thrown parties, gone to the Melodrama, had a few trips to the waterpark and dropped one kiddo off at history-loving camp. There have been some real highs.

There have also been a couple of low, low moments. Meltdowns of epic proportion have ruined large chunks of more than one day.

As much as I hate to admit it, the meltdowns were mostly me.

I really did not want to melt down today, so when my peanut was starting to be difficult, I took a deep breath and leaned in.

I am trying to do a series of speech videos with her–if not every day–regularly. She was CLEARLY not interested and started to misbehave. She had to sit on timeout, but rather than fighting it through and making the timeout the issue, once she pulled it together and came back to the table we restarted and actually got a lot done!

YAY.

Then she wanted to watch TV. Now, I’ll be honest. I am actually not a mom who limits screen time with my kids. We are pretty busy as a family. My kids go to a Classical Education private school, which mean they read (or are read to) a lot. There are also sports we do, church and youth group every week, trips to the water park and playing in the pool.

We fill their lives with so much good stuff, I don’t feel the need to battle about TV. We also can only watch things on video or DVD, so there’s not a lot of worry about the influence of commercials or things I don’t approve of.

However, today I just didn’t really want her lounging on the couch and sinking in for a binge-fest. Nor did I want to create a commotion over it. So I tried a new approach.

Without saying a word, I got out her light box and began to set it up. I added a dish of ice, food coloring, salt, a spray bottle of water, and a squirt bottle of oil.

While I was working on that, she turned off the TV and found some “homework” to do on her own.

When I finished setting it up, I left it.

Again, I said nothing.

A few minutes later, she began exploring…

The squeezing and spraying strengthen her hands. The ice is refreshing, as it has been so hot the heat radiating from the blacktop burns my feet walking in flip flops. The salt adds texture. Food coloring is just always fun.

She kept herself happily busy while I got some ironing done.

I didn’t melt down.

She didn’t veg out.

We all won.

5 Dinner Guests

Robin Growth, Special Needs Families, Uncategorized November 13, 2015Bible Study, everyday, imperfection, Moments, paying attention

My friend Kelly from Mrs. Disciple has a Friday 5 link up each week. AAaaaanndddd each week I tell myself I am going to “DO THIS THING!” Then each week I don’t.

Maybe this time I will.

5 Dinner Guests is SUCH an intriguing concept. In fact, my hubby and I already discussed ours this morning over coffee in the hot tub. (A favorite morning activity…soaking, chatting, watching the night sky disappear in the daylight.)

Here goes:

Clearly I like words. If this is insight into my life, I am most definitely in a season longing for growth and learning, and this list of 5 proves it.

1.) Antonin Scalia. My father was a Superior Court Judge who served as president of the California Judge’s Association. His father was also a lawyer who clerked for Earl Warren. If Grandpa Hal had not died at 43, there is every likelihood he would have gone with Earl Warren to clerk for him in the Supreme Court.

It is in my blood.

Mr. Scalia is brilliant. His judicial acumen and ability to write decisions that illuminate application for the common man are inspiring. My brain might hurt after, and I would likely have to write things down to look up later, but it would be fascinating.

2.) Stanley Greenspan. This one’s tough. He died in 2010, but before his death he was a pioneer in brain development and special needs diagnosis and treatment. His work on “floor time” was revolutionary.

“Floortime meets children where they are and builds upon their strengths and abilities through creating a warm relationship and interacting. It challenges them to go further and to develop who they are rather than what their diagnosis says.”stanleygreenspan.com

That makes me cry.

The ability to collaborate with, learn from and listen to a man of his expertise would be life changing for my daughter.

3.) Hyrum Smith. He is the founder of the Franklin Quest Company and author of the book The Ten Natural Laws of Successful Time & Life Management. He is one of the most powerful speakers I have ever seen, and his book is life changing.

“Natural laws are fundamental patterns of nature and life that human experience and testing have shown to be valid. They describe things as they really are, as opposed to how we think they are or how we wish they were.” page 12

Well said. Walking through his process of figuring out my governing values was brutally insightful. Putting priorities in order is a skill that I have carried into many, many other situations.

You can only ever have one #1 priority at any given moment. Accepting that is freeing.

4.) Albert Mohler. (Could also be John MacArthur…either/or.) Mohler is a theologian and apologist I deeply respect. His reverence for the Lord inspires me.

Growing in my understanding and application of God’s word is of the most importance to me. I LOVE to fill my brain with Scripture. Talking about how to apply it and live life helping others to do the same is something that would keep my attention raptured for hours and hours and hours.

What a joy that would be.

5.) Lysa Terkeurst. “We have to put our hearts and minds in places where wisdom gathers, not scatters.” Exactly.

Lysa is married to a business owner, is a mom, started a ministry, writes and speaks. She is passionate about applying Biblical truth to life.

She does what I do times a million, with far greater excellence.

She is my hero.

She is funny. She is moving. She is insightful.

And most importantly she is an example.

Both times I went to the Proverbs 31 Conference SHE SPEAKS, I was gobsmacked by how humble and edifying the entire team was. I had never seen women treat each other that way before, and I wanted more of it.

When I read this blog of hers, I was a devoted fan forever.

I would be a better person for interacting with those 5… What about you? Who are YOUR 5 DINNER GUESTS?

My Demented Oreo

Robin Alzheimer's, Apraxia, Grace, Growth, Homeschool, Moments, Special Needs Families, Uncategorized October 11, 2015Dementia, gratitude, imperfection, Moments, paying attention, sandwich generation

I am part of what is called the sandwich generation, tucked between nurturing and growing my children and caring for aging parents. Because I am ~~naturally~~ soft in the middle, it makes sense to me that if I have to be a sandwich, I should be a cookie one.

So I have decided to be an Oreo.

Just over a year ago my father in law passed away from Alzheimer’s. The last few years of his life were a roller coaster. There were hospital stays and care facilities; anger and emptiness. The journey of Alzheimer’s is learning to grieve the living.

Although my father in law died first of Alzheimer’s, many years before he began to show signs my mother in law’s memory was disappearing.

My husband and I will celebrate our twentieth anniversary this fall, and for over 15 years of that my mother in law has been fading. Her mother had dementia, and she resigned herself to the same fate. She has never been responsible for caring for my kids. My girls have never gone to grandma’s for the weekend.

She is still one of my favorite people in the world.

I call my mother in law Winnie the Pooh. She has a heart of gold but a head full of fluff. She is never cranky, always happy. (I called my Father in Law Eyeore, because he was quite the opposite.)

While some in our family have understandably struggled with the reality of both Grandma and Grandpa radically mentally impaired, my youngest–our precious little peanut–knows no different and loves her world. She loved her grandpa.

She loves her grandma.

This week was Grandparents Day at my daughter’s school and I knew Ryan would love to have Grandma there. Her school is 20 minutes away, and the memory care facility where my mother in law lives is 40 minutes past that. That meant quite a bit of driving.

As Grandma and I were walking out the door of her home to pile in the car I asked her, “Do you know who I am?”

No. She did not.

By the time we reached the first stoplight two blocks away, she asked me half a dozen times who I was. The conversation usually goes like this…

Me: I am a married to one of your sons. Who are your sons?

MIL: Let’s see. (Starting to count on her fingers…) Bernie, Carl, Everett.

On occasion she’ll add someone else to the list, her husband or son in law.

Me: Now which one would have been smart enough to marry me?

She laughs at that every. single. time.

Me: I am married to your son Carl. Usually if you say it together, you can remember my name. Carl and _______________…

MIL: Robin.

It is an interesting conversation. Or not. But it is my life.

For the whole drive we chat about the scenery and philosophy; family and the past. It is often the same conversation on repeat. I believe the fact that she is my mother in law and not my mom makes it easier for me to enjoy her as she is. There is not as much loss to bear.

We get the walker out and toddle to the group meeting.

I get Grandma a snack she can eat with her hands. She lost the ability to effectively use silverware a while ago, but she loves a sweet treat.

Then we headed to the classroom.

Ryan was so happy. Daddy had to come along for the fun.

San Luis Classical Academy, my daughter’s school, is a beautiful part of this season of life. Ryan is on campus two days a week and homeschooled three days a week. I am hauntingly optimistic we will make tremendous progress this year.

Ryan did her “recitation” of Wynken, Blynken and Nod.

When your child can’t talk, you must improvise and prioritize. I decided that for this recitation, being comfortable in front of the class was the goal.

Look at that face. Today was a winner.

After recitations were art projects and show and tell times with Grandma.

Keep in mind that at the very moment my these pictures were taken my Mother In Law had absolutely no idea where she was or who she was talking to. None.

THIS IS GRACE.

THIS IS LOVE.

THIS IS BEAUTIFUL.

My daughter who can’t talk and my Mother in Law who can’t remember have a relationship that looks like this. And they both mean it with all their hearts.

I love this part of the Message version of the third chapter of Ecclesiastes:

A right time to cry and another to laugh, A right time to lament and another to cheer.

This is my life right now…a crazy, mixed up jumble of lamenting and crying while also laughing and cheering.

It is my demented Oreo of a life, and while I may not have chosen it, I do–in fact–love it.

Exposed

Robin Grace, Growth, Moments, Uncategorized July 15, 2015Bible Study, everyday, exposed, imperfection, Moments, paying attention

I was caught unaware.

Scrolling through my social media feed, mindlessly, lazily filling my afternoon with unproductivity, and there it was. A beautiful picture of someone who I will always be connected to. There came a catch in my throat.

The words were loving and seemed so sincere, and my inner conversation began, “Why am I not good enough for this? Why are there no words like this for me?”

Relationships, and people, are so messy.

And the extended version of the winsome photograph I found myself staring at is the most disheveled human connection in my world. Sometimes family feels like it is on life support.

In the swirling, I realize that I am feeling a wee bit vulnerable right this moment. My beloved Tuesday Night Bible Study needed to come to a close; my precious little ministry is flailing trying to plan for the next project; and unexpectedly I find myself discouraged.

I didn’t see it coming.

Mostly things are really good.

And my hubby and I are thinking through other things to make them better. There is no crisis. There is no overarching angst. But…every once in while…when I am looking in another direction…I suddenly feel exposed and at risk.

Here’s the truth I must face: Life is imperfect. Am I brave enough to accept that with grace?

The wacky thing is God is moving in my life. He has lovingly connected me with new friends, most of whom are writers, and I feel the itching to grow and learn in the very best of ways. I can sincerely cheer them on, applauding great work in the form of poignant words, embracing stories. It is lovely.

I am tackling a large project that has been laid on my heart. It is one that will ~~hopefully~~ bring women into deeper connection to God and stronger faith. I will find solutions for the ministry project and will be involved in a different Bible Study this fall. It will all be okay.

Except for the situation in that photo staring at me from the computer screen. For that I have no answers. And although it doesn’t impact the totality of life, or daily happiness, there are moments–like this one–that leave me feeling hauntingly sad and exposed.

When Tomorrow You Knew Would Be Better Longs For Yesterday You Wish You’d Appreciated

Robin Bible Study, Grace, Growth, Moments, Uncategorized July 5, 2015gratitude, imperfection, longing, Romans, today, tomorrow

I can not count the number of times I have looked at an old picture of me and wished I still looked like that, weighed that number, was that size. But if I were to face the entire ugly truth, I would admit that I felt discontented with me then. As that picture was taken, I was having the “I’m fat” chat in my head.

Perhaps I am the only one.

My body image is not the only place I struggle with this. We’ve hosted many last day of school parties at our house. The kids swim, hubby bbqs and a good time is had by all. Last year I remember sitting at the gathering, listening to the splashing and laughter, and daydreaming about finishing our landscaping. My hubby was having the best year ever in business and there was hope of having extra money. (It was hard work to remember what that might be like…)

Yesterday I dreamt of a water feature and a flagstone area with a fire pit. I envisioned colorful flowers (on a timed drip system so they would survive) and a walking path through fruit trees that we could pick fresh fruit from. I had hopes for a raised vegetable garden that the girls and I could plant together. In my mind we would make a leap to a healthier way of life designed to more easily have people gather.

I wouldn’t have to apologize that we still had not yet finished landscaping…in spite of our best intentions.

Ahhhh….such great ideas.

Little did I know at the time that my hubby was planning a surprise trip to Disneyworld for the family.

There goes the extra money.

And…that doggone el nino did not come through like I hoped. The draught painfully continues and we are on a well. That means when the water runs out of the tank nothing comes out of the faucet until the pump refills the tank.

Imagine sixteen people staying at our house for my father in law’s memorial service last fall, most of whom really wanted to shower before heading to the church.

Selfish, I know.

And when the showers were turned on there was…nothing.

The sound of air filled the room.

There was not even a drip.

Do you know how quickly dishes for 16 extra people pile up when there is no water to wash them? (That is a wonderfully legitimate excuse for not doing dishes.)

The yesterdays that I should have appreciated looked like this:

And the today I knew would be better looks like this:

Oops.

Here’s the deal: Basing my happiness on a tomorrow I can not control is a recipe for failure every time. Everyone knows we are in a draught. I can either move on with what I have or lament that which I have no command over. The weather is a great example of something I have no influence on. I need to decide, do I want to show off my yard or connect with people?

My Hubby’s business is not having a great year so far this year. This means that what is, is what I must deal with. If someone thinks less of me because my yard now crunches when they walk on it, that relationship would find an end anyway. And whether I like it or not, Jesus wants my pride to crunch under the weight of His sandals. He walked the earth so I could learn what really matters and live it out. The Word became flesh…

Not easy.

Over pastrami sandwiches or chef salads at a local restaurant each Tuesday Night, my Bible Study friends and I have been talking a lot about Romans 1:18-27. It is powerfully relevant to battles that rage in our culture and it offers us the chance to dig deep into application and discussion. Tucked in the middle, verse 21, is the pivot point where things begin to move in the wrong direction: “For even though they knew God they did not honor Him as God or give thanks…”

The pivot point of my life rests there as well. How much of my life do I waste by not giving thanks? Do I realize that a lack of gratitude means I am not honoring Him as God?

The only way my todays will be what I long for, whether my tomorrows are better or not, is to marinade my thoughts in gratitude. The aroma of thankfulness can be what fills my senses if I will just. pay. attention.

It is my desire to thank Him for everything; to see Him around me; to obey Him purposefully, and the only way that will bring me joy is to do it now. Seeing the joy in hindsight is a waste of a life.

May His joy fill my life to overflowing…today, regardless of what may come tomorrow.

AMEN

Great Moments

Robin Growth, Homeschool, Moments, Special Needs Families June 16, 2015education, everyday, imperfection, Moments, parenting, paying attention, Ryan, Special Needs

I love summer. I love the changing of seasons; not seasons of nature but seasons of life. The coming of summer and the end of school inherently provide a time to regroup.

I often need time to regroup.

Here is the truth of my life: I think I am getting better at it.

I am not perfect. Obviously. But I am also not a perfectionist, I am a pragmatist. What I am constantly trying to move toward is a life that works. For me that means my calendar matches my priorities. In quantity of time my family comes first, but in priority of time my faith comes first.

This season is working for me because, as it turns out, I love to learn. In church and Bible Study I am in a fruitful season of learning God’s word and how it applies to life. In parenting, my girls are in a fantastic school–on campus a few days a weeks and at home the others. Reagan is completely in charge of her own learning, and Ryan is homeschooled a few days a week.

After four years, I may be getting the hang of it. I actually finished the school year with momentum…and I am excited about the coming year.

It’s crazy, I know. I was actually…organized.

I want to push pause on a moment. In one of our homeschool days this spring, there was a breakthrough.

This is an activity we have done many, many times. Baking soda, vinegar, water, corn starch and food coloring have provided hours of entertaining engagement. This day we were using it as our fine motor activity. All of the squeezing and pinching making her little hands stronger on our road to learn to write.

Mostly I sat back and watched, letting her explore and combine.

The breakthrough came…for the first time, ever, Ryan did not combine all the colors into one big brownish-greyish gloomy mess.

Obviously she is still a bit messy. ($3 clear shower curtains get a lot of use as craft-table covers in our home.) But she was more careful than I have ever seen her.

This summer we want to continue to strengthen her foundational skills so that we can embrace the curriculum more thoroughly this fall. We intend to read more and exercise more. In August she and I will head to Connecticut to get a thorough evaluation and several sessions with an expert in Oral Motor Placement Therapy. It is our attempt to progress in teaching her to talk.

We are not ready to give up hope.

Meanwhile, we will do all we can do to enjoy this season, these moments, this child.

“And God looked at all He had made, and indeed it was very good.”

Genesis 1:31

Life…like holidays…

Robin Moments, Uncategorized December 28, 2014Christmas, imperfection, season

So many blogs stop.

So many of us claim to want to write, then don’t.

Life is terribly funny that way, isn’t it? What we claim to want to do and what we do are at times/often not the same. Perhaps it is just me.

This holiday season was, in so many ways, wonderful.

My hubby and I carved time away together. We attended parties with old, dear friends. We had dinner with wonderful, new friends.

As a family (or parts of family) we went to the Nutcracker; laughed heartily at the Melodrama; gave to a family in need; enjoyed carols and church; read parts of a beautiful Advent book.

We were incredibly organized for us. No staying up Christmas Eve to wrap presents, Christmas cards got mailed on time, and money was deposited into our oldest’s account as a gift and to buy his Christmas dinner. All of those were wonderful improvements over years’ past where good intentions and reality were a tad bit out of sync.

The Christmas dinner was fantastic–I do love to cook turkey–but that wasn’t enough to salvage my mood.

I shot way too many dirty looks in my hubby’s direction. When my reality and my expectations didn’t meet up, I let my petty trump my grace.

Again.

Due to extended family drama, I already had a counseling appointment set up for the day after Christmas. I paid someone to talk to me for nearly two hours.

It was absolutely money well spent.

The less than perfect of the Christmas Day does not black out the good that preceded it. So hard for me to remember sometimes. I think it is why the stories of the beginning of Jesus’ life and the end take place over time. Mary traveled. Jesus was born. The shepherds and the wise men came.

Jesus was betrayed. He was beaten. He was put on trial. He was crucified. He was buried. He rose again. He stayed for a while. He rose into the clouds.

To get the whole meaning–to let it sink into my soul in a life changing way–I must accept the time of it. My Christmas season was blessed. I served the needy with friends, I worshipped with my family, I laughed. Even though my Christmas Day was testier than I wanted, it is a mistake to focus on just that.

And so I remember that although I don’t write as often as I wish I did, I will continue on. Brighten A Corner requires I get better as a writer. The messages on my heart prod me as well. And I will remember that although the day of Christmas had great moments and weak moments, the season was Jesus-focused and filled with laughing with friends and family alike.

Because life, like holidays, are seasonal in nature…