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.

Speaking Her Language

Robin Growth, Jojo, Moments, Uncategorized January 12, 2022Breathing, Grief, Jojo, PSP

It was four months ago today that my mom passed away.

It was an excruciating journey.

One you wouldn’t wish on anyone. Sometimes I can’t believe this is our story.

I am still numb.

I started counseling in the final year of her life, to process the grief and put a system in place to deal with the inevitable loss. I went to restorative yoga and took classes on breathing.

I gathered the tools to put in my toolbox. I suspect at some point the emotion will flow.

There were many good times. Up until the last month, there was always laughter. (Mostly from making fun of my Dad.) My mom had a wicked sense of humor passed on to both me and my son, and we used that tool effectively to lighten the darkness.

Speaking my mom’s language was a high priority. Managing anxiety. Building endurance. Seeking beauty.

“My mom has a poet’s heart,” I would tell every new caregiver who came to the house. “That must be honored.”

I found out after she had died that she had her own column in the college newspaper. I was not surprised she did, just surprised we didn’t know.

I am also not surprised that her words could have been written today–the timeless creature that she was.

I BEGGED her to write her memoirs and will never not be sorry that she never did.

HOW did MY MOM end her life unable to communicate?

I am grateful my faith is deep and I long ago learned to be okay in HIM, facing that which I cannot understand.

“I trust you to tell me,” my mom would say, “when it is over.”

I smile. Nod. Unflinchingly honest, I knew I would honor that request when denial and resources were both exhausted.

“I am so, so sorry, Mom,” I ache as we are talking about Hospice, “but I am out of ideas.”

Hospice was another road in the journey with unknown twists and turns, and none of us knew the distance from that beginning to the ultimate end. All we can ever do is our best, and we did our best trying to live while also dying.

We read to her a lot…me. Caregivers. Audiobooks.

Never as much as you would REALLY like–I share the same struggle with reading to my precious little peanut–but probably more than average.

As the days were coming to an obvious end, I ordered a book I remembered distinctly from my childhood, HAWK, I’M YOUR BROTHER.

I didn’t know it would be the last thing we ever shared…I honestly thought there was more time. The Hospice nurse guessed about a month–our crazy concoctions had fixed a few issues we were battling and there was no longer anything glaring at finality.

In the dynamics of my own marriage, my husband is usually gone for the hard things. Through no fault of his own, it’s just the way it has always gone and for that reason I believed my mom would pass away a few weeks later, while Carl was in California on business.

I was convinced of this, and comfortable with it.

So, when I sat down by her bedside that Saturday afternoon to read, I believed it was only another moment together in a lifetime of moments together.

The hawk is on his shoulder, ‘Fly now, bird. Go on.’ [The book reads.]
The hawk turns. He moves his wings…
Maybe he jumps a hundred times before he seems to catch the wind, before he lifts himself into that summer sky.
At last he soars. His wings shine in the sun and the way he flies is the way Rudy Soto always dreamed he’d fly…
The bird looks down and then he calls a long hawk cry and the sound floats on the wind…”

“I love you, Mom,” I say as I leave. “I know you know how much I love you.”

In hindsight I can see I was speaking her language–of freedom and soaring and permission to go–through a book uniquely part of our childhood.

I miss you, Mom. I don’t actually think you know how much I miss you.

4 Times Is CLEARLY Not Enough

Robin Grace, Growth, Moments, Special Needs Families, Uncategorized July 19, 2017enough, yoga

I went to yoga for the fourth time in two weeks.

Okay, one of the times was a relaxation/stretchy/destress-y thing and not so much a strength building thing. It was my favorite of the four.

When it comes to actually doing yoga, I strongly resemble a walrus on a tread mill. It is just not pretty. Seriously, I cannot now, nor have I ever been able to touch my toes while my legs were straight. The only way I can put my palms on the ground is sitting on my rump.

Midway through every class I have absolutely no idea what in the love of all that is sane I am doing there.

Something is certain, however, and that is after 4 times at yoga I am not stronger. My clothes don’t fit better. I don’t love it.

CLEARLY it will take more than this to achieve my goals.

At the stretchy/relx-y yoga thing I loved, the instructor said the foundation of her life is her relationship with her Lord and Savior. HE spoke directly, through this perky teacher, to the nagging voice in my head whispering yoga and Christianity were not compatible.

I can assure you, as I am holding my aging body in Downward Dog AGAIN, I am praying to the Lord. When I am breathing at the beginning of class, I am praying for His will and strength to become.

I am overwhelmingly convinced that for my life to move forward I must become who HE wants me to become; and exercise is part of the discipline in doing that.

This morning the instructor mentioned over and over that yoga is a practice. I hate practice.

I love to do things that come naturally. I don’t want to have to work hard or get better. This is likely why I am middle aged, soft around the middle and less affluent than I wish I was.

Lying on the mat, my mother on one side and my daughter on the other, I must face that life is often delicate and sometimes broken. My mom (who has been losing her ability to speak clearly from a yet-to-be-diagnosed issue) and my daughter (who has not yet learned to over come her disability and still can’t speak) remind me time is fragile. So is hope.

I want 4 times to be enough with every fiber of my being. Enough to get my mom’s brain to start sending signals to the right side of her body; enough for my daughter to fully engage in the practice because an amazing speech therapist once said, “What you see in the body, you see in the mouth,” which means that becoming proficient at yoga poses may help her learn to talk; enough for me to be comfortable in my own body.

Although it may not be enough to arrive, today was a step forward. Forbidden from evaluating results for 6 weeks, I am focusing instead on breathing in His grace. I am practicing focus on Him. Breathing deeply I am praying silently, asking and listening, when conviction washes over.

Slowly the thoughts create an unmistakable picture in my mind, showing me a pattern desperate for change: Rather than asking God what His plans are for my life, I am coming to Him asking for blessings on my plans.

Sigh. Of course four times is not nearly enough. I have to keep coming back…to yoga, to prayers, to listening, to a place of repentance…and remind myself that God’s ways are better than mine.

THAT is going to take practice.

Epiphany Day

Robin Fasting, Grace, Growth, Uncategorized January 6, 2017

Epiphany is my favorite word.

Long before I became a Christian epiphany, defined as an “illuminating discovery, realization, or disclosure,” meant learning and wisdom. Epiphanal moments were cherished.

I had them watching Oprah, laughing with friends and reading good books.

Decades later, I learned there was actually an Epiphany Day. What a beautiful discovery.

It was a long time after I discovered Epiphany Day that I learned it is actually deeply rooted in the birth of Christ:

noun

the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles as represented by the Magi (Matthew 2:1–12).

The original epiphany was the beginning of the story for those of us adopted into God’s family.

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Just this week, 20 hours between midnight and dawn have found me awake and caring for a sick kiddo. Warm baths, cleaning up sick messes, dosing out medicines night after night stood in the way of precious sleep.

In addition, there have been a dozen hours in emergency rooms and doctor’s offices with my mother in law and my little peanut when I was finally convinced she was not almost better.

Lots of buggy things got in the way of my lists and my peace of mind.

But what has poison churning in my soul is none of those things, but rather what I see in the world of my teenager and the teens around the world. It is infinitely harder to raise high schoolers today than just ten years ago. Chatting with my pediatrician about the craziness and uncertainties in the culture and the world, and lamenting my ineffective search for answers, he said, “There are a lot of people to claim to have answers, but at this point they are really just opinions.”

Drugs, graphic images available 24 hours a day on hand held cell phones, distresses taunt and haunt from every visible corner. Not to mention a gazillion “sexual identities” available and supposed to be acknowledged and accepted.

I am a very simple “In the beginning God created them; male and female He created them” kind of a gal. While our doors are open wide to teenagers of all beliefs and walks of life, I yearn for simpler days and less pressure on our kids.

Social media bombards endlessly.

Pressures mount daily.

Already pondering and praying about these things, I was forced out of complacency in early December. A friend across the country asked for prayer when her son was in lock down at school. A young man hung himself in the gym and when the paramedics came to get him to the hospital, no one wanted the students scarred by the image. The boy in the gym was taken off life support a few days later. Within 24 hours of praying for that another friend across the state asked for prayers for her dear friend whose son had been killed in a car accident.

Sometimes it feels like filling my lungs deeply with fresh air is impossible, because the strain and fears I have for our kids has me so constricted…

I decided I would revive a practice I have used before of fasting on Fridays. I know what specifically I am fasting and praying for…sometimes I choose a Bible verse to pray when I runout of words…I allow myself drinks and break the fast at 6:00 pm. I use the pangs of hunger to remind me to pray and look to the Lord.

I threw it out on social media and some friends will be joining me in January, to fast on Fridays and pray for our kids.

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I want to be obedient to God. Obedience to His word and His nudgings matter to me, but this life of growing in Him is not always one with clearly defined edges. In my world it can be a bit fuzzy.

Is that what He is asking?

Am I sure?

I committed to praying on Fridays…fasting and focusing on freedom for teenagers everywhere, mine included.

By wisdom a house is built, and by understanding it is established; And by knowledge the rooms are filled with all precious and pleasant riches. PROVERBS 24: 3-4

I know this is a good practice, but imagine my thrill when I looked on the calendar and the very first Friday of January is, of all things, Epiphany Day.

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And so tomorrow, Epiphany Day, I will begin my January commitment to fasting on Fridays. I will be praying for victory for our kids. I will be praying for joy in our families. I will be praying for a cleansing in our culture and a rise in God honoring ideas and principles.

Join me? You can join our little Facebook group here.

It is time. The need is huge. If you are a parent, friend, grandparent, aunt, teacher or concerned citizen, you are welcome to join us. For some of the stories that drove me to this there will be mourning, but my cry is that by the end of the month we will start collecting stories of victory.

“Even now,” declares the LORD, “return to me with all your heart, with fasting and weeping and mourning.”

Joel 2:12

Hello Kettle. My Name Is Pot. Nice To Meet You.

Robin #FridayFive, Bible Study, Grace, Growth October 12, 2016The election season

Let me begin by saying that I am in a season of repentance. My emotional entanglement and dread over the election is, simply, not godly. It is rooted in fear rather than faith and indicates that my hope is not in the Lord…

I am sacrificing Jesus on Golgotha because of worry I will not get the political salvation I desire.

I am like so many Jerusalem citizens in the first century.

Sigh. I don’t want to be.

So I am praying for forgiveness and heart change…

In that spirit, I am linking up (late) with the spectacular Kelly at Mrs. Disciple in her #FridayFive discussion of wisdom.

For even though they knew God, they did not honor Him as God or give thanks, but they became futile in their speculations, and their foolish heart was darkened. Professing to be wise, they became fools…Romans 1:21-22

This discussion, challenge, thought process on wisdom Kelly is encouraging me to embark upon is poignant in its timing. Providential…one might say.

Deeply pondering my own beliefs, our nations future, and raising my kids led me to an epiphany this past weekend: In the past, people from the left and the right had their biggest disagreements about how to solve problems. Now we disagree on what the problems actually are.

It is a stunning and sad revelation. It is relationship and conversation stunting because no longer is there an easy segue between problems and different perspectives on solutions. Doing life together now involves huge offenses–on both sides–at what people call “problems”.

I feel like I am on an island, and the island is burning. I can’t say for certain that the entire island will be destroyed, but I feel sure that enough of the island will be damaged to change things permanently.

There are two boats waiting to sail away from the flames. One is captained by an unreliable, morally degrading leader. But the ship has a compass I believe works. I am confident it is headed in the right direction to get me where I need to go, and that the boat has no holes.

The second ship’s leader is equally, if not more, morally repugnant, but nowhere near as bombastic. That captain may (or may not be) more pleasant, but I believe with all my heart the compass guiding the ship will move me farther and farther away from freedom to live out God’s truth. The ship looks like it has holes in it. I am sincerely afraid for the health and safety of my family, should I travel a long time in that ship.

In the few moments I have to decide what to do with my family, the decision is easy: I care far more about the compass than I do about the captain. Certainly the captain may choose to deliberately go in the wrong direction, but the broken compass–even with the best of intentions–is guaranteed to get me lost.

People reel in disappointment at my conclusions and convictions and I struggle to care.

People rail in disappointment at things I think are beautiful and I care too much.

And so I am pushing PAUSE…and seeking WISDOM from the Lord. Digging deeply into Romans 1, these are the steps in my quest for wisdom:

Know God. For me this comes from studying His word. I am in a bit of a dry spell–I do not love the Bible Study we are doing at church–and there is no question this both sets the foundation for and feeds my struggle. I will pick up the project I began this summer–writing out the words of Jesus and collecting my thoughts about them. Ahhhh, it will be sweet joy for my heart.
Honor Him as God. This may be a discipline rather than an emotional outpouring for now, which is OKAY in my world. I will write it out and repeat it often, “NO matter what happens this election YOU ARE STILL GOD. You cannot be dethroned. You still love my family. I still trust You. I still look to You for guidance.”
Give Thanks. Time to break out my gratitude list and, perhaps, reread 1000 Gifts. Gratitude to God centers me. It gives me hope. It reminds me what is true. It shows me I will be okay, no matter what.
I Will Stop Speculating. I will doggedly and with great compassion leave the outcomes to God. They are HIS anyway. I will remind myself out loud and in writing to LEAVE THE RESULTS TO GOD and pray for His strength to be obedient.
I will let my heart be light. Darkness may not take root in me if I beg Jesus to fill me instead. Practically speaking that means I will SERVE. I have a Brighten A Corner project this weekend which will nourish my love for others. Coming along side people of varying beliefs to serve people with varying beliefs is just what I need this contentious season. I will also LOOK FOR THE GOOD and celebrate it.

What people are shouting, “Not on my watch!” about one particular side is, quite honestly, readily available with the other option. If a person decided early in the process not to like one or the other, there has been PLENTY of evidence gathered to support the position. Hypocrisy is reigning from each and every self righteous corner.

Including mine.

Seeing that and wanting to change it means that I am on my way, and while letting go and trusting God may not be easy, it is the only path of hope. My hope is not in who is president. It is not in how much I pay in taxes or even whether or not I can afford good medical care for my kids and my mother in law.

My hope is in the Lord.

May I be faithful to remember.

A New Corner

Robin Apraxia, Grace, Growth, Homeschool, Special Needs Families, Uncategorized September 12, 2016

There has been wailing and gnashing of teeth here on Park Hill Road.

Mostly from me.

It was slowly becoming more and more apparent that I should homeschool my precious little peanut full time this year. A thousand little pieces of information added up to a clear picture: In order to make progress we’d have to make a change.

Homeschooling is time consuming and patience strengthening, but that is not where the wailing and gnashing originated.

I am just so sad that I am the best option for my daughter.

This is not some whoah is me, the sacrifices I must make thing. It is truth.

Last summer my little person and I hopped on a plane and flew to Connecticut to meet with a speech therapist and an aqua therapist. They worked with her and taught me and she bloomed.

When I pulled out of the parking space on the last day, I was a mess. In that school lot, the smell of chlorine thick in the rental car, a new realization was forged in my heart: We only grieve things we are grateful for.

I was so, so grateful for the time we had been given. And I was so, so heartbroken that we had to fly to other side of the country and leave them behind.

People who are excellent at what they do are unique. To see people who are gifted at helping my daughter was vulnerably beautiful. To come home where I have been unable to such find help was hard. And sad.

I had to grieve the loss.

I would MUCH rather have gifted, great therapists to work with my daughter than have to do it all myself as an amateur.

But we have rounded another corner and here we are: A homeschooling family.

I have it all thought out:

I have prayed and researched and I believe God has guided me to the right focus and approaches for Ryan…If I do all I have set out to she will thrive.

If I do all I set out to do, our family will thrive.

My goals for the first trimester are fairly simple:

For my Precious Little Peanut, that means stronger jaw, tongue and lips for speech; and core and hands for writing. For the rest of the family, it would just be good.

Here we are prayerfully, humbly on a new adventure; hauntingly optimistic that we will make progress. This I know: The biggest weak spot is me.

I am flakey.

I can be lazy.

I naturally gravitate toward chaos which means I have to fight me very nature in order to succeed at this.

But God.

I believe HE is for me. I have prayed through my natural laziness and made great strides. I have people praying for my character, so that I may be the educator my daughter needs.

So here and now, for this season, I am coming out of my corner swinging.

Missed Boat: A Letter to Women’s Ministry Leaders

Robin Grace, Growth, Meltdowns, Special Needs Families, Uncategorized August 8, 2016Teenagers. Women's Ministries

In my mind’s eye I see a group of women circling around a kiddie pool. There are rubber ducks and floating boats. There is splashing and laughing and chubby toddlers spilling out of swimsuits.

Sitting close by are older, more experienced moms chatting with the younger gals engaging and listening. The sun is shining. The colors are vibrant. There is fruit cut and skin tanned and it is beautiful.

Behind them (just out of ear shot) is a grey, damp, worn down industrial shipyard. Lurching away from an old, beat up, barely functional dock pulls out a huge cargo ship. There are no windows. There is no color. Its destination is not clear, but trapped inside are the moms of teenagers who can barely catch their breath.

Leaders in women’s ministries everywhere: YOU ARE MISSING THE BOAT.

I remember my teen years well and do NOT hope to repeat them with my kids. (Do as I say, please, not as I did.) Our oldest is 26 and our middle is now a teen. It is MUCH harder today than it was a decade ago to raise sane teenagers.

There are moments when I feel I have this thing NAILED; then, without any warning, those feelings are replaced by a tight chest and sick stomach. I am nauseous at how many things there are seeking to poison our kids.

Poison their minds.

Poison their hearts.

Poison their values.

Poison their wills and want-tos.

It is not only the things looking to destroy them but the very nature of the season of life that stack the odds against us. In her book The Teenage Brain, author Frances E Jensen, MD, explains:

Before leaving adolescence behind, a boy can have thirty times as much testosterone in his body as he had before puberty began…That explains why adolescents not only are emotionally volatile but may even seek out emotionally charged experiences–everything from a book that makes her sob to a roller coaster that makes him scream. This double whammy–a jacked up, stimulus-seeking brain not yet fully capable of making mature decisions–hits teens pretty hard, and the consequences to them, and their families, can sometimes be catastrophic.

The thing is, teens today have access to far more degrading and damaging things to excite them. Sexual images are available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week on hand held cell phones that can be tucked away in their pockets. Medical marijuana cards and prescription pain killers have put drugs in more homes than anything I could have imagined when I was a teen. It is easy access for almost any high school student to acquire mood altering substances.

Kids from middle class, activity attending families are crumbling under the weight of the realities our kids are facing. Imagine a Friday night, kids are drunk, a boy decides a girl (who can barely even walk and will not remember) must want to have sex…so he takes it from her.

Cast into the dirt, she is not sure what happened. Zipping up his pants, he is sure he’s done nothing wrong. At home, asleep, are the parents (of yet a different teenager) who bought the alcohol that got the kids drunk and started it all…

Versions of this scenario are playing out weekend after weekend after weekend…

Where can any of these moms go for help? Church?

YES! to MOPS and Mom’s mentoring groups and so many other programs sweeping the young mom cultures around us. That work is vital and holy.

But I personally have sat and watch thousands of tears roll from the eyes of moms of teens. Kids are gone–at boarding schools and military programs–last ditch efforts to stop the spiral. Women are sharing stories of feeling like their families are being damaged by this season of life with teenagers…living daily with an invisible anvil sitting on their chests crushing hope and joy. What can we do for them?

In our own area, we have lost dozens to heroin. These were good kids from loving families.

The days of the typical addict lying in a filthy alley with a needle stuck in their arm are over. These are our friends and neighbors. We must wake up!

Let women’s ministries be a haven. May they be real and transparent full of answers and hope.

YES! Make meals for the brand new mama just home from the hospital. But are we helping the mom of the 15-year old connect around the table as well? With more than just words, can we come alongside with answers and aid? Can we use our voices to tell the kids, “The future is bright. Set your standards high. Don’t sell yourself to the lowest bidder.”

Can we look each other in the eye and say, “I will hold your hand while we hold each other and our kids accountable?”

Can we gather around tables and collaborate, acknowledging that the teenage brain is seeking high impact activities? Let’s brainstorm about healthy opportunities to fill that need in the faint hope of keeping them from finding their own ways?

Yes, they may roll their eyes. No, they probably won’t volunteer to join our quest. Let’s parent anyway.

Recently I had the privilege of helping to plan a prom for a local boy who was restricted from going to his own senior highlight because of medical complications. A whole group of parents came to put the event together. I was STUNNED by the conversations…”You know, the high school just had their prom. If we don’t make this REALLY special no one will want to come.”

“You can’t serve a sit-down dinner to high school kids. They don’t like that. They want, like, sliders and finger foods…”

Parents’ expectations of teenagers have hit an all-time low.

Our kids are going to be adults someday. Are we doing all we can to help them be productive ones?

500 teenagers got dressed up, sat down for a polite dinner, and celebrated with that boy–giving him the prom of his dreams. 125 other kids showed up in their finest to dance and join the after party…where tons of teenage favorite foods were served. The parents who doubted the kids would behave well were wrong.

This is war for our children. We are fighting low expectations and morals, along with easy access to pornography, drugs, and alcohol. Other parents and teachers are turning a blind eye saying, “Kids will be kids,” but, church, let’s not join their cry.

I often say that parenting is a crap-shoot. It is a roll of the dice, where we can guarantee no outcomes. Let’s lock arms, look each other in the eye and say, “We are going to face this head on and do all we can to stack the odds in our favor.” Let’s listen to each other’s heartaches and fear. Let’s commit to praying boldly and telling our truths. Let’s tell God’s truth to our kids and your kids and their kids.

Let’s find ways to have fun with our teenagers and with each other. Laughter can build a bridge…Let’s see great examples and paint bright futures and let high school students everywhere know that we believe in them. Let’s invest in them and tell them we want them to make good choices and make their marks on the world, leaving a trail of beauty behind them.

When the wheels come off the bus, as they certainly will, let’s sit together without judgment and give support until we can breathe again. When our kids fail, which they MUST if they are to learn, let’s remind them that mistakes don’t have to define them; that taking responsibility is ALWAYS the best way to move forward; and that tomorrow provides a new opportunity to do better.

Time is running out…we can do this.

5 Things I Want To Learn

Robin #FridayFive, Grace, Growth August 6, 2016Mrs. Disciple

Life is funky.

I live a few miles out of a tiny town that has no stop lights.

There are no stop signs on the main street. There are, however, two bars and a winery. Anyway…

Finding community, that super-cool kicked around word, is not easy…perhaps it is not even available in my area. It is much easier to come by online.

And, lest you discount such a thing as shallow and unproductive, it is only online that I have found friends who crave to do their craft better. Kelly is one such person, and I am so grateful to be linking up again with her Friday Five chatting about what I want to learn…

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There are so very many things…

**I want to learn to begin each day loving God and pursuing HIS love for me and others.

Many of the boundaries of my life have been put in place to support my Christian walk. I listen to only Christian music–except when I am on the tread mill–and don’t have cable. I watch DVD’s or nothing. I go to church every Sunday.

I do many things to support my faith but I don’t begin each day on purpose with HIM.

What could happen in my heart and my head if I capture those first moments of the dailiness I am interred in and POURED purity and goodness from Jesus straight into me?

**I want to learn to manage money with excellence.

Pathetic, I know.

But I have NEVER learned the discipline of earning, spending, tracking and STOPPING before you run out. Unfortunately, or fortunately, I am a stay at home mom, so I am not even earning. My management “skills” are only in the conversation in my head of how I will spend my lottery winnings…but I do, someday, want to be that person that Proverbs 31 talks about: “She considers a field and buys it; From her earnings she plants a vineyard” verse 16.

**I want to learn to be effective at speaking God’s love into my kids’ lives.

Okay, so I really, really, really believe that God loves my kids.

But do I live that way? Do I TRUST HIM in a way that reflects HIS love for my kids? Do I speak that into their hearts?

Keep working, I tell myself. Keep growing. Keep speaking God’s love into my kids’ hearts. And PRAY, PRAY, PRAY to learn to do it with greater excellence and effectiveness.

**I want to learn to let discipline dictate my day.

I am lazy.

Now, in fairness to me I am not AS lazy as I used to be. I am progressing well on my journey out of sloth-i-ness.

And yet.

I am about to enter into a new season. This fall my precious little peanut will be home with me nearly all the time to be home schooled.

To say that I am anxious is a ridiculous understatement.

I have researched and looked into and decided and in my brain the fall will begin a beautiful season of learning and growth. That CAN ONLY BECOME REALITY IF I am disciplined in doing what I am thinking.

PLEASE, Jesus, help me dictate my days with discipline.

**I want to learn to create a social life with my husband.

Could be wishful thinking, but whatever.

I think it would be/could be great to have couple friends. We HAVE tried…but flopped. We have brief moments of YAY…but no longevity.

How can I have more YIPPEE experiences without the inevitable THUD that follows? I don’t know. I have to learn…

I do learn a lot. I read and study and grow. But these things we have talked about? They would add depth and longevity to relationships and life…THAT would be beautiful.

5 Things Our Kids Need To Know About Sex

Robin Growth July 17, 2016pornography, sex

Brock Turner did not change how I talk to my kids about sex.

Kobe Bryant did.

On July 1, 2003, Kobe Bryant had sexual intercourse with a woman he barely knew while staying at the hotel where she worked. She left his room disheveled and in tears, leaving him wearing a shirt marred with her blood.

She filed rape charges and he was arrested.

He appeared to be far more concerned about his reputation, career and marriage than about a woman who felt completely violated by him…

I am using this Sunday morning, to get linked up with the fabulous Kelly over at Mrs. Disciple and her wonderful #FridayFive. This week’s topic is 5 Things I Wish I’d Known…but instead this is 5 things I pray to God we, as a society, will figure out.

BREATHING DOESN’T EQUAL CONSENT

In Bryant’s case the charges were dropped and I am sure he wrote a huge check.

I believe it was inconceivable to Bryant that any woman who kissed him wouldn’t WANT to have sex…they’re breathing, so they must want it.

This is simply untrue. And criminal.

My hubby and I took our teenager to a pepper spray, self defense class. During the class they went over the statistics of sexual assault on college campuses. My daughter and I talked at length about the numbers. I asked her, “Do you believe for every woman who has been raped, there is a boy who feels like he raped her?”

No. She didn’t.

We then talked about boys she knew that she thought might act as though they deserved sex with or without permission. I have to say, she really got it.

Moms of boys: Tell your sons that sex is not random. It is, at its very essence, relational and bonding. Of course I want it to be only for husbands and wives, but outside of that ideal there are still standards.

Just because a girl smiles, doesn’t mean she said yes. A woman who is intoxicated can’t ethically consent. Sex matters. It is time we, as a society, started to act like it.

SAVING SEX FOR MARRIAGE SAVES A LOT OF PAIN

I was once lamenting about a TV show that was so, so good–except I hated how they treated the topic of teenagers having sex. A woman looked at me like I was stupid, “But that is real life…” she said.

I was in a church coffee shop. She was married to the pastor’s kid and very active with teenagers. It didn’t seem to bother her that having sex was “normal” for people whose brains and bodies were nowhere near fully developed.

Hear me on this: Just because a lot of people are doing it, doesn’t mean that it shouldn’t make us weep.

I can tell by the fights a couple has whether or not they are sexually active. I don’t care if they are 14 and in high school or 40 and newly divorced. Why, you ask? Because nothing I have seen brings out the insecurity of a woman like sex outside of marriage.

In the moment it feels like euphoric power…in the morning it feels like vulnerability and inadequacy.

Saving sex for marriage saves you from mountains of pain and heartache.

The Money Flow of the Sex Industry Should Make Us Vomit

Years ago I watched serial killer and rapist Ted Bundy’s final interview with Dr. James Dobson. Bundy emphatically claimed that he became a monster because of his addiction to pornography.

I read somewhere that pornography is a 14 billion dollar a year industry.

I am going to try to break this down as simply and straight forwardly as possible.

Google defines pornography as: printed or visual material containing the explicit description or display of sexual organs or activity, intended to stimulate erotic rather than aesthetic or emotional feelings.
Therefore pornography takes the emotion and human relationship out of sexual interaction.
One study indicated that 49% of prostitutes were forced to participate in filming pornography by their pimps. The films are crafted in a way that makes it look completely consensual when it is really forced, which means that the very act of buying porn often directly funds sex trafficking.
Another study clearly indicates that the vast majority of men who pay for sex are viewers of pornography.
Still one more study claimed that 47% of prostitutes were wounded or harmed by men reenacting sexual acts they had seen in pornography.

I believe that pornography comes first. Purchasing sex is next. Then comes the man, who never thought this would be his life, looking for an underage girl to sleep with. It is a disease that grows…Get rid of the pornography and you stop the number one source of food that is feeding the beast.

Will it fix everything? Of course not.

But search your very own life and do whatever you can to stop investing in the sex market.

50 Shades of Grey, I Am Talking To You

It is not a huge surprise that I was WAY behind the curve on this one.

The first time I was in a group of women talking about the book, the look on my face must have been hilarious. I was baffled.

I have never, ever, not once, heard someone say the book was well written.

Yet the author is the fastest selling writer in human history.

Pardon the language but, what the hell?

Why? What was it? If the lead character drove a rusty pinto station wagon and lived in a mobile home, would so many women have read ALL THREE books? I doubt it. What does it say about connection and intimacy when husbands were buying the books for their wives…

Is this what men really want when they make love?

God help us.

I wondered if I should read them, just to be able to have a conversation with Christian women who were reading them also…but I couldn’t stomach the thought. I would never be able to un-read it and the images would be in my mind forever. If you love Jesus or your sons or daughters, throw your books away and repent before the Lord.

I am not joking.

For the record, if you go to church on Sunday, and have Cards Against Humanity in your game closet…throw that away as well, and repent before the Lord. YOU WILL NEVER BENEFIT FROM FILLING YOUR HEAD WITH FILTH. Ever.

SEX IN MARRIAGE MATTERS

I love what Dr. Phil says: “A good sex life is 10% of a marriage. A bad sex life is 90% of a marriage.”

So true.

Most people need to repent of past sexual actions…do it. Wiping a heart clean is a great start. And telling your spouse it matters to you is also a great thing to do.

Every journey is different, but the reality is that a marriage without a healthy sex life is often a marriage that struggles.

While we talk to our kids about purity, we must also talk about the beauty that is in faith-filled, God created marriage unity. It is worth the wait, and it is worth investing in once the wait is over…

We have lost our minds when it comes to all things sex, and the fallout is brutal on our relationships and our kids…one person at a time, one dollar at a time, perhaps we can make progress.

I Am Not Kidding

Robin Growth, Uncategorized July 9, 2016hope, patriotism, protests

What we need to put into our [kids] minds is often sophisticated, consistently reliable language. What is readily available to us is often unsophisticated, consistently unreliable language.”-Andrew Pudewa

Once again it feels like the nation has exploded.

I hear gut wrenching cries. I watch bullets out of nowhere. I listen to the questions agonizing what do we do?

Today, Kelly over at Mrs. Disciple is discussing books for her Friday Five. Providentially it weaves beautifully into the scenes unfolding around the country and provides an eloquent answer. The way forward is to read.

I am not kidding.

Language is the motor of thinking, which propels behavior, which dictates results. If we want to change the results it is incumbent upon us to change thinking. Arguing and demagoguery rarely (if ever) help. But reading? Reading has the power to change everything.

Here are my five suggested starting points:

THE BOOK OF PROVERBS.

You don’t have to be a Bible believing Christian to have your life enriched by Proverbs. There are many Chinese proverbs and Old English proverbs I glean wisdom from. Likewise, the book in the Bible has benefits for anyone who will listen:

“Watch over your heart with all diligence, for from it springs the well of life.” Proverbs 4:23
“The beginning of wisdom is: Acquire wisdom; And with your acquiring, get understanding.” Proverbs 4:7

What an easy place to start. Pray for wisdom for every single person, side, perspective, hashtag. If you follow that to the book of James, verse 3:17, hope comes alive: “But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, reasonable, full of mercy and good fruits, unwavering, without hypocrisy.”

Isn’t that something everyone could agree on?

A THOMAS JEFFERSON EDUCATION by OLIVER De MILLE.

Only when teachers realize that the principal cause of learning that occurs in a student is the activity of the student’s own mind do they assume the role of cooperative artists. ” Mortimer J. Adler

I am not a fan of the pubic school system. It is not that I don’t love teachers, I do. I believe the system is based on a flawed philosophy. Because the fundamental beliefs dictate direction, to me it is irrelevant how much money is spent in public schools because the money continues to move things in the wrong direction. I believe public schools are built on a myth:

“The myth is that it is possible for one human being to educate another…The fact is that the only person who can fix education is the student…[because] education occurs when students get excited about learning and apply themselves.” page 12.

Although this is not an emotional book, I cried as I read it. It reframed much of my entire life…why, even though I was above average intelligence, I hated school and nearly flunked out. Why, even though I love God’s word, I struggled for years to get along and engage in Bible Studies. It boiled down to this:

People were trying to teach me what to think, and I was desperate to learn how to think.

According to DeMille, a primary goal of teaching students how to think is “to perpetuate freedom, to prepare people who know what freedom is, what is required to maintain it, and who exert the will to do what is required,” page 23.

I want to be that kind of a person. I want it for my kids and as many people in this country who also want it. To bring that in context of this week, there is no freedom if the people enforcing the laws are not trustworthy. Likewise, respecting the rule of law is also demanded for freedom to reign. You cannot have one without the other.

THE READ ALOUD HANDBOOK by JIM TRELEASE.

Next to having a healthy, godly marriage, the very best thing we can do for our kids is read to them.

Study after study shows one consistent fact: “No reading outside school, low scores inside school,” page 5.

I believe this emphatically. The way to get kids learning and growing is to gather them around adults with books and to read to them.

I began with my kids as newborns. When my middle was 4 months old our pediatrician was part of a program to encourage literacy in families. He would give away books at well-baby visits. When we were finished with our check up, he grabbed a book and began his spiel about exposure to books.

Reagan lunged forward, grabbed the book out of his hand, opened it and started babbling as she “read” it. He laughed out loud and said, “I guess she knows what a book is.”

I believe teaching and encouraging parents to read good, quality books to their kids would, over time, help to fix many of the struggles in this nation. Some of the benefits to children include:

Increasing vocabulary
Encouraging growing attention spans
Giving a context for history and beauty

Reading Les Miserables, all 1300 pages of it, certainly would have a more positive effect than listening to rap music that says, “F#@!**^ the police” over and over and over again.

THE CLASSICS

These are my current obsession:

Barnes & Noble has a beautiful, incredibly affordable collection of kids versions of classic books. I read them to my little peanut.

I cry EVERY TIME Gilbert Blythe gives up his teaching job for Anne Shirley, or when Jo comes home and has sold her hair to send money for her father. As Ryan grows, I want to start reading some of the abridged versions to her, finally reading the full length stories.

The classics pour into our hearts themes of family and loyalty. The villains show us how not to be while the heroes model endurance and faith. Studying character traits in third party examples helps to form our own character. We need to be pouring into the character of our nation…beginning with the leaders.

THE DOCUMENTS AND LETTERS OF OUR FOUNDING FATHERS.

Recently our teenager was doing a history report and needed original sources for the bibliography. She was getting frustrated because online sources were frowned upon and difficult to site. I started laughing and walked her over to a bookshelf.

“What do you need, kiddo? Here you are.”

Common Sense by Thomas Paine? We’ve got you covered. Looking for the Declaration of Independence? We have several to choose from.

Members of the House of Representatives and Senate should have to read, out loud, the Declaration of Independence and Constitution once a month for 5 years straight… just to give a little perspective.

Rights are for all people, not some people. Let’s infuse our minds with the truths that set us free from tyranny so many years ago. It may be the only way to prevent tyranny in the years to come.

Yes, I know it may seem simplistic but no, I am not kidding when I say that reading may be the very best chance this nation’s future has.

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