Relationship

When it comes to things like pregnancy, birth, and parenting, it's important to provide information in a loving and supportive way. But, if at all possible, I also think it's best to do this in the context of relationship.

Now, obviously, for those who blog (like me!) it may not be possible to develop a relationship with everyone who may encounter what we're saying. I'm not suggesting that we should never write about the things that matter to us; I am suggesting that we pursue relationships with people in our real lives. When we do this, we will naturally get to know people whose experiences, circumstances, and choices differ from our own. Understanding issues and choices through the eyes of other people instead of through our own perspective and idealism can go a long way toward helping us approach people in a loving and supportive way (rather than a judgmental or condescending way), both in person and in writing.

When people in our lives make choices that differ from our own, do we attempt to see things through their eyes and understand what's behind the choices they've made, or do we judge them? They're lazy. They care more about their own convenience than what's best for their child. They haven't done any research. They're detached from their kids. Ouch! In the end, are we more committed to our ideals and the issues we're passionate about, or are we more committed to people? Relationship, I think, is the key to loving people more than our pet "issues." And in the context of a true, loving relationship, it is very unlikely that we will simply assume the worst about the other person.

As someone whose choices regarding pregnancy, birth, and parenting have changed drastically from my first child to my second, I can guarantee you that being harshly judged and looked down on by others would never have done anything to change my mind; it would have just hurt my feelings and made me feel bitter. You know what opened my eyes and my heart to other perspectives and choices? Relationships. While my oldest was still quite small, I met and developed relationships with loving, caring people whose choices differed from my own in various ways-- but they didn't try to force their choices on me. They just did their thing with confidence and were willing to talk if I had questions. Some even blogged about their experiences and perspectives, but I never felt judged when I read their posts-- I felt encouraged.

In relationship, we get to know other people and understand where they're coming from, and we let them get to know us and understand where we're coming from. We live life authentically in front of each other, and we all grow and change. It impacts our assumptions, our words, our choices, our understanding. There is so much to be gained from relationships-- and so much to be lost if we overlook their importance.

Love Comes First

I have really been struggling to write lately. There are so many things I passionately believe in; I love to read and talk and write about things like pregnancy, birth, and parenting. So it only makes sense to do so on my blog.

But some other blog posts and articles I've read recently in various places have given me pause. I've been seeing a lot of well-meaning information, research, and thoughts put out there but expressed in such a condescending or judgmental way. And I find this really frustrating.

I think it's so important for parents to be able to access the information needed to make truly informed decisions, and I believe that many OB/GYNs, pediatricians, and parenting publications often provide only one side of the story while telling us it's all we need to know to be fully informed. And so I definitely believe in getting the "other" information out there. The problem is that it's so often done in a way that feels like guilt-tripping and condescension all wrapped up in a pretty package that says, "I'm just trying to help!" Both "sides" use research to support their claims and use language that make people feel like bad parents if they don't measure up to whatever that particular side is saying about that particular issue.

I can hear people saying now, "But you said yourself that people need to have access to information that will allow them to make truly fully informed choices! If we care about the issues and the parents and the babies, we need to speak up!" And I agree-- but in the context of love and support. Unfortunately, a lot of times it feels like people are bombarded with information and expectations in a way that feels less like love and support and more like piling more and more burdens upon people's backs.




But it's a balance that can be hard to find, especially when it's complicated by the very real situations in which people feel judged even if nothing judgmental was said or intended. So some people end up tiptoeing around, afraid to say anything at all out of fear of unintentionally offending someone, and some people end up saying, "Screw it, I'll just say what I think and people can deal with it!" I don't think either approach is all that helpful, though.

My mind keeps coming back to speaking the truth in love. I think it's okay to share research and information and our own thoughts and experiences, but it's so important to pause and ask ourselves if our motivation is really love. If we're saying it in hopes that other people will see how wrong they've been and how right we are, that isn't very loving. If we're saying it as a way to passively-aggressively comment on other people's choices, that isn't very loving. And I'll be honest enough to admit I have said things in the past with a less-than-loving motive, and I am truly sorry. So often when people are passionate about something, it is easy to start caring more about the issue than about people, and I have definitely been guilty of that before.

So in the midst of all the passion and concern and research and information, let's remember that the people around us are real people with unique circumstances and struggles. Instead of bombarding everyone we know (and even people we don't know) with ideals and "shoulds," let's form relationships with people, get to know their situations, love them, and empathize with them.

Connected

I lay outside looking up at the night sky. Neighbors were shooting fireworks all around, and as I watched them, I felt a strange sense of connection to other people all over the country who were doing the same thing I was right at that moment. In the midst of all the differences we may have, this was a shared experience.

As the fireworks died down, my attention turned to the stars. I lay there on my back and gazed up at them, thinking of the beauty of creation and marveling at the enormity of it all. Again I felt a sense of connection. How many people all over the world throughout history have done just that? We are not so entirely different, even across time and cultures.

My thoughts went to my friend who was in labor with her first child at that moment. Another connection. We women are connected by this amazing ability to carry, birth, and nourish a new life. We divide ourselves over different opinions and choices, but we have such an awesome thing in common!

People share so many experiences. We have more in common than we realize. We are more connected than we know, but too often we let our differences drive us apart. I have been more conscious of it lately than ever, and I am weary of it.

Temptations and Boundaries

Lately I've been thinking about weaknesses and temptations. Many people, maybe all people, have their own weakness or temptation that they would almost certainly give in to under the right (or wrong) circumstances. So if you know what your big weakness is, do you take precautions to try to be sure you never reach the point that you cannot resist anymore?

It helps me to think about it in terms of alcohol. (Not my weakness, personally, but it's a familiar enough example that I think it will make sense to most people.) Suppose alcohol was my big temptation, and I found myself all alone in a room with a bottle of it. I still might be able to resist at that point. But suppose I allowed myself to inspect the bottle, touch it, open it. Suddenly it would be much harder to resist. And then if I poured some into a glass? Game over. If that was my weakness, and I let myself go so far as to pour it, could I actually continue to resist taking a sip? No one would ever have to know...

I've heard parents say that in setting boundaries for their children, sometimes they will actually set the boundary a few steps before their kids would ever reach that one thing that drives the parents particularly nuts. For example, you may not mind if your kids run and play loudly in the house, as long as they don't start jumping on the furniture-- but you know your kids well enough to know that once they start running and playing loudly in the house, jumping on the furniture is soon to follow. So rather than setting the boundary right on the edge of the thing you absolutely do not want (no jumping on the furniture), you may decide to set the boundary a few steps back (running and loud play need to happen outside).

But how often do we set these kinds of boundaries for ourselves? If I know what my big temptation or weakness is, do I allow myself to get right to the edge of it and then expect myself to somehow resist? Or do I set the boundary a few steps back, at something that may not seem like that big of a deal, but I know where it could lead me?

I think a lot of times people feel silly setting these kinds of boundaries for themselves because the boundaries seem excessive or ridiculous, especially to other people whose temptations are not the same. You won't go out with friends who are drinking? You won't be alone with the opposite sex? You installed a porn filter on your computer? But sometimes, in order to keep ourselves from reaching that big thing that tempts us, we have to take precautions.

Do you have a temptation or weakness that you're aware of? Have you put boundaries in place to help ensure that you won't reach the point where you can no longer resist?

Just As They Are

One of the things I love most about our church’s recent transition to meeting in homes is the presence of children. There is something so beautiful and natural about having everyone gathered together, from the youngest to the oldest. Worship was beautiful today; it brought tears to my eyes to hear everyone singing together to just the music of a guitar, and to hear the smaller children making noise too, and to hold my youngest son close while I sang. I think there’s so much good to be said for children experiencing worship and hearing adults talk about and praise God. No, children are not always quiet, and as a mom I do feel a little embarrassed when it’s my kid making noise—but at the same time, children are part of life and I love seeing them accepted into the community just as they are. It’s a picture of life, love, family, worship and discipleship. Beautiful.

Now they were bringing even infants to him that he might touch them. And when the disciples saw it, they rebuked them. But Jesus called them to him, saying, “Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it. –Luke 18:15-17

Memories

When I was a child, my dad worked third shift in a factory that made brakes. It was hard physical labor, but the money was good and he was able to provide for our family. During the summertime, he often got an extra night off each week, and Thursday nights became ours. I was a night owl just like him, so on Thursday nights after everyone else was settled in for the night, we would go out.

At the time-- I was probably around ten years old-- we had an old Volkswagen Beetle, white with a black convertible top. My dad would start it up (the engine sounded so loud against the silence of the night) and we'd drive. Back then, he considered it nearly a crime to have to pay over a dollar for a gallon of gas, and both the sales tax and the gas prices were cheaper in Georgia. So we'd go to Georgia to fill up the gas tank and bring back a full gas can or two for the other vehicles. Sometimes we'd go to Dalton, and sometimes to Fort Oglethorpe, and while we were there we'd stop at Walmart. We'd look around at stuff we were interested in, taking care to spend extra time in the books and magazines because it was one of our favorite sections, and we always bought a roll of Sweet Tarts as we were leaving the store. They were mostly for me, although I would give him the orange ones because I didn't like them, and sometimes the yellow ones too. They had recently introduced the blue Sweet Tart, and to this day if I taste one I immediately feel like I am back in that Volkswagen with my dad, driving through the night with the wind blowing through my hair.

My dad and I were close throughout my childhood. We had (and still have) similar personalities and senses of humor. Certainly we clashed sometimes; I was always very stubborn and persistent about what I wanted, and often he would say no for one reason or another, so I would do everything in my power to argue, bargain, and convince him to change his mind. (I was rarely successful, although he would smile and say that I'd make a great lawyer one day.) But we had so many good times together and countless wonderful memories. I'm grateful that I had a father who understood the importance of connecting with his children and who set aside time to spend with us one-on-one (and who is now committed to spending time with his grandchildren as well).



Fathers are so important-- yet many, many children are growing up without them. Thankfully, there are people and organizations out there who realize how significant it is for children to have a positive male influence in their lives, and they're doing what they can to be sure that fatherless children have mentors. The Mentoring Project is one such organization; they provide mentors for boys between the ages of seven and fourteen. This weekend, people from our church are coming together to hold a garage sale to raise money for The Mentoring Project. If you are in the area, I hope you'll come check it out. This is for such a good cause.

Sappy But True

Recently a few friends and I had a conversation about weddings and how something always goes wrong. After giving a couple examples of things that had gone wrong with our wedding, I made the statement that, actually, the only thing that turned out right about my wedding was the husband I ended up with. Of course, such a sappy statement was met with groans-- and I agree, it was sappy, but it was also pretty true.


Our wedding was in turns a comedy of errors and a tragedy. When you're seventeen years old and still in high school, and you're getting married two weeks after you got a positive pregnancy test, the ideas you had about your dream wedding kind of go out the window. I had no engagement ring, and our wedding rings were cheap yellow gold (we replaced them with something more our style a few years later). It was not the beach wedding I had dreamed of; we were at least going to have it outdoors at a local park, but it was moved to my parents' church at the last minute because it was a cold, rainy December day. Despite the fact that this was the church I grew up attending, it was the last place I would've chosen to get married. With very little time to find a dress, I went shopping with my two closest friends and decided on a very pretty dress that I loved and that fit me well-- but it was navy blue, not white. I decided that was fine with me because I was okay with not being "traditional," but looking back, I do wish I'd chosen something that looked more like a wedding dress and less like a dress you'd wear to a high school Christmas dance.



The ceremony itself also included mishaps, some comical and some heartwrenching. Our music, which was on a cassette tape, loudly screeched to a halt when Clark walked out, so my dad and I came up the aisle without music. The tape began working again when we reached the front of the church, and no one knew what to do at that point, so we let it continue to play while we all stood there trying (and failing) to keep straight faces. In the video, you can see me snickering, then becoming serious again, then looking at my best friend and snickering some more. The pastor who did the wedding used the oldest and most traditional vows possible; they included the term, "and thereto I plight thee my troth." (I did request to have that changed at the rehearsal because I had no idea what it meant, and I sure as heck wasn't making a vow I couldn't even comprehend). To wrap it up, our parents had thought it would be nice to surprise us with a special song, so Clark's stepmom got a guy she knew to play his guitar and sing. It was a lovely thought, except for one minor detail-- the song she chose was Creed's "With Arms Wide Open." If you're not familiar with the song, it's about a guy finding out he's about to become a father. We stood at the front of the church awkwardly throughout the entire song, and I cried, trying to pretend it was because I was so happy and not because I was so mortified. (Eventually I did ask her why she chose that song. She'd had no idea what it was about; she just chose it because she knew we liked it. Oops!)

I do have a few good things to say, though. My mom and grandmother worked hard to put the wedding together and decorate the church despite their shock at the situation and the short amount of time we had to plan it. The church was filled with our friends and family members. My best friend was my maid of honor. And our friends put together a lovely reception for us. So no, it really wasn't ALL bad. :-) Still, I'm glad that the wedding was no indication of how our marriage would go. Eight and a half years later, we've worked through some difficult stuff, we've grown in so many ways (individually and as a couple), and I couldn't ask for a better person to spend my life with. The wedding may not have gone the way I would've wanted, but I am so blessed to have my husband.