Tirade of a Mad Momma....

 Yesterday, I was sitting in the den with my little girl and we were taking a break from our Saturday chores.  We were watching an episode of a show that we have seen literally every day. My mouth dropped as a commercial came on about a new TV drama, and it showed two teenage girls making out.   

Please keep in mind that this was a Saturday afternoon at 3:00.

Completely sideswiped by that one, I realize very quickly that I just didn't know what to say.  I half-way hoped she missed it.  She waited a few seconds and I thought maybe we were safe when the inevitable happened. Confused, she looked at me and said,

"Mom, I didn't want to see that."

Now, I am not going to get into the debate about society, the state of our culture, or my pie-in-the-sky ideals on maintaining my child's innocence.

 But...

She is a blank slate on which to write, and frankly I did not want this to be the first sentence….on this subject.

 She is 7!  Boys are still icky, kissing is taboo, and she has already found her prince. She calls him daddy.

So, now this image is in her head along with questions that I wasn't prepared to answer at the age of 7.

 There are unspoken rules about what is acceptable in a public setting, and what is just too far.  Why, in the middle of a kid’s show did someone decide to put that in front of her eyes?

                                           I know why. 

    We are a culture in the process of excusing everything. 

De-sensitizing our children so that when they are older that they see no more absolutes about right or wrong. We are creating an anything goes society.    We tell everyone to be whatever and whoever they want to be.  We are told to accept even when the act is unacceptable by God’s standards.

It used to be this subject was about the inappropriateness of a male- female relationship and how it is portrayed on TV in ways that would make a grown woman blush.

 Now, we have gone one step farther.   It is that one step that is making the vulgarity of the former “not that bad.”

 I fondly remember when there was no need for ratings, or explanations about content.  You could enjoy a show without being “on guard.”  I remember even when TV commercials didn’t need ratings. 

Lets face it ...some of that stuff is just as bad as the shows themselves. 

Now it is getting to the point that I would just as soon not even have it on.

I know what you are saying, and I guess you are right. 

 I am a prude.

 But, I just can't promote the TV idea on relationships, dating, etc. as "a try- on- and- see –if- you- like- it- plan."   After years in youth ministry I can tell you without doubt: that is a recipe for disaster.

I have come to the conclusion that I am engaged in a full-on pursuit for my child’s heart. I want to protect the beauty and mystery of God’s design, while the world is doing everything possible to do just the opposite.

                                         So, now I am just mad!

 Mad at someone stealing something that I am trying so hard to protect.

 Mad about things that I can't control.

 Mad about society’s justification about changing times.

 

 

Mad about my daughter's innocence interrupted.

 Mad about the fact that no matter what I do or say....

                          I can’t get that moment back.

.

I want to be a Billionaire

I want to be a Billionaire…

This summer has not been stellar for me.   It seems that lately my appetite for more is in one word
…. insatiable.

     In the last month I have wanted, needed, and pitched fits for:  a new house, a Land Rover, an Armada, a Pathfinder, new clothes, another beach trip, a pool, and new furniture.
Ridiculous!  So much so that Gary actually asked me one night lately, “What is wrong with you?” 

       To my discredit, the only answer I could come up with was, “I don’t know, maybe my early mid- life crisis?”  Not a very good option in my opinion, but it is the only one I have!

        We compare what we have with what others have, and find ourselves lacking.  It is on every channel, and in every store.  We live in the most affluent country on the planet , and yet no one seems to know how to  define...enough.

Especially this girl….

This was pointed out to me at the strangest place this week...  A yard sale.

      Just like everybody else in America, I love a good yard sale!  I enjoy sifting through someone else’s treasures.  It is actually fun to have one on your own, but it is so much more fun to do it for a worthy cause. Saturday we had a yard sale for Missions.  We were working to raise money for the Rwandan Mission team and the teaching and training of pastors there.

It was an epic failure!

 Let me clarify…..the yard sale was a success, the failure was all mine.

      In preparation, I sifted through mounds of stuff.  I went to others and asked them for their stuff.  I even hit up my girls.  I gave both of them a bag and told them to fill it up.   Their instructions were clear; Go find things that they no longer wanted and give it “to help others.”

Such a noble cause.

  Like all yard sales, Saturday began  very early.  We priced things to move!  Practically giving away items just to raise a buck, but mostly to get rid of the stuff.

       At one point when things were going well, I told Gary I had a brilliant idea.  “Let’s take some pictures so that the people in Rwanda can see how hard everyone has to work just to get to go over there.”

  It sounded good in my head, but once it came out….not so much.Gary said simply, “Think about that one. How is that going to work?” (Yes, it is extremely difficult being married to Dr. Phil!)

 I looked around and realized something; we were selling all of the excess things that we no longer wanted  to aid them in acquiring...... water, and shoes, and maybe an extra clean shirt.”

Would those precious people that I needed to impress with my picture  even understand excess?   

More importantly why do I get to?

      It was finally beginning to sink in when Jean, our friend and pastor, from Rwanda came outside. He was present at the yard sale witnessing a true taste of Americana.

I approached him.  I just had to know what he thought of this scene.  Knowing he was intrigued on a previous visit to America about simple things like ice, I just had to know what this event looked like to him.

His answer stopped me cold. I was speechless.  He looked around at all of our unwanteds.  The excess someone was going to throw away, the things that no one valued anymore, and said

                     “If I had all of this, I would be a billionaire.”

Convicted, I had no response.  I had to just walk away. I have been so blessed, but rarely ackowledge it.

 Why did the man from Africa have to point out my wealth to me?   

Why is enough  just not enough anymore? We have so many things that we (the Millraneys) can’t even manage it all.  We spend our days cleaning up all of the extras. I fall over the toys that are sprawled out all over the floor, the ones that no one seems to value enough to pick up. 

         Most people like me are overtaken by the mountain of clothes needing to be washed, yet we need more.

 Let’s just get real here…..I need more.

What I needed was perspective.   

     I am reading a book about a lady who made decisions about removing wasteful spending from the family.  She picked out 7 areas and began to make changes. 

     Now, unlike the book, I am not going to give away all of our possessions.  but something has to change in our home. 

     I fuss about my girls showing appreciation, but is anyone teaching them?  If you are given your every whim (which they are for the most part) how do you learn to value anything?  When I tell you to pick up your room and you come out with a trash bag and say, “Just give it all away Mommy. I can’t pick it all up and put it away” (Yes, that happened!)

 I believe that is an unmistakable sign of overindulgence.

              You see, my failure on Saturday was an ungrateful heart.  More disheartening than that is teaching and modeling an ungrateful heart to my girls. I have been sucked into a culture which creates a desire for more.  Even my little girls have been a victim and will protest about hearing  the word "No."  I have given in to the fascade not because it was right, but because it is easier.

 I am refusing to do the hard things because well,

                …  they are hard.

I don’t have a concrete plan yet, but God is leading my heart to change. I am listening and hopefully I will somehow figure all of this out.

Which leads me back to my desire.   I still want to be a billionaire, that didn't change.  Now it is  just a different kind. I am praying for riches that cannot be bought or sold.  I am longing for a satisfied soul that is not the product of material things. 

Oh! and one more thing…. He didn’t mean to do it, but he showed me something.   My friend from Africa and his perspective about my waste has shown me what it means to be “the richest man in town.”

Just Fishing...

          I should have known we were in trouble from the very first day, the very first cast.  You see, I have always loved to fish.  Going fishing with my daddy are some of my favorite childhood memories.  I have passed down this love to exactly one of my girls, Lindsey.   It was  on her cast that I should have taken the hint.

 Our whole crew had descended on my parent’s farm to kick off the summer.  It was time to go fishing. We went outside to see what we could catch in my family’s catfish pond.  We were all set when my niece needed some help.  Lindsey graciously put her pole down and offered some assistance.  That is when it happened.  We looked up, and Lindsey’s bobber disappeared.  We ran to grab her pole, but it was too late. The fish pulled pole and all into the water never to surface again.

Fish One…..GONE!

          Not to be done in by a silly little ole fish, we went and found her another pole determined to try again. This time she cast her line and immediately landed the biggest catfish that I have ever seen.  This would have been her crowning moment and she knew it.   She worked for ten minutes in 95 degree heat on that monster.  It flipped and flopped, but she held on.

Now,  it was as long as my arm and probably a good 7-8 pounds and the poor kid was exhausted.  She almost had victory when it  swam under my daddy’s ducks (decoys) on the pond. 

So now she was fighting Goliath….. and a duck.

           It was at this point she officially gave up, I don’t blame her.  She was sweating and muddy.  She could give it nothing else, but we kept working.  We told her we would get it up to bank and she could pull it in.  Asking  my dad for some help,  the task quickly became a family mission, Daddy pulled the line tight, while I went to the bank to help Lindsey.   We could see the beast, and almost got it out of the water. The line broke just as we were given a good look at it on the bank.

… Just before it swam away.

          I would not accept defeat. She had worked too hard for this to be the one that got away.  The monster had broken free, but the bobber was still skimming across the water.  I pulled the paddle boat out and we jumped in.   Thelma and Louise!   We were in hot pursuit of the fish, or shall I say, the bobber.   Now, this was a great idea until about 10 feet out when the rope became tangled on the propeller.  That is when Lindsey bailed on me.  She jumped out of the boat and splashed back to shore with the statement,  “I am not dying over a fish! Mom, you are going to sink.”

I should have listened to her.

          I chased that bobber/fish in my paddle boat until the rope pulled so tight that I was stranded out in the middle of the pond.  I had no paddle and the added joy of the thirty foot water fountain spraying straight up in the air getting me soaking wet.  I had to wait and float back in ….. Defeated

Fish Two…..GONE

          Then we tried again.   This time it was my turn.  I hooked another HUGE catfish, the kind you only hear about, but never see.  This was the fish!  It truly gave me a run for my money.  It fought and fought, but I thought I had it.  Apparently the fish was smarter than I.   This  crafty catfish dove into the mud and borrowed under a pipe that ran the fountain.  I decided quickly that I needed reinforcements, so I recruited Daddy, Lindsey and Gary to help me. We fought, we pulled, we dug, we did anything we could think of to get it out.

 My resolve was clear, I wouldn’t not be whooped three times in a row by a catfish! 

          There was just no way I was going to let that ever happen. 

That’s when I got just a tad too desperate.  I pushed too far.  I worked too hard and took just one step too many…. and fell in the pond.   Completely.

 and, since I was already in the water…

           I did it.  I did say that I would do it one day.  Today was the day! I went hogging (hand fishing).  I took my hands and just submerged them in the muck attempting to force my victory.  I was going to win! I was going to come out with MY fish!

    I came up empty. The only thing I found were the priceless looks on the faces of my daddy, my daughter, and my husband laughing so hard at the muddy vision in front of them that they were crying!

Fish Three…GONE!

          Now, I know it seems crazy, I’ll give you that.  It is absurd, but I do have witnesses to it all.    My mother even ended the night by looking at me the way that only she can and saying,      “ Do not come into my house like that!”

           Sadly, I have no fish to show. Also, I currently do not have any fake toenails or fingernails. I decided in my attempt to get clean, that I would pry them off to make sure the dysentery germs are not still on me somewhere.  Gary also warned me not to put my hands or anything near my mouth…. for a while. 

          It is true; there were no great catches today.  We have no fish to show, but we have some priceless memories.  Honestly, that is what it is all about anyway.   When Lindsey grows up, what tales she will get to tell as part of our crazy crew.  No one will ever believe her (unless you know us well), but she won’t get to say that her childhood was normal.

 I have always believed that normal is so overrated.

           She is learning that life is about loving. It is about occasionally taking chances. Sometimes it is about making a fool of yourself.  It is about laughing and living every moment to its full.

          She is beginning to see that it is all just part of an abundant, crazy, wonderful, life that God has promised HIS children.

                   ... and she thinks we’re just fishing.

Treasures

Treasures…

        The end of the school year can be a harrowing experience.  We never seem to roll gently into the close of the school calendar.  It is more like a hurricane.  There is always a list of so many things to accomplish, tasks that need to be done.  Every day is so incredibly full that you seem to be haunted by that end of the year list.  On that list is one thing I put off as long as possible:

       The dreaded teacher gift.

      I actually hate giving teachers a present.  How can you adequately represent all of the blood, sweat, and tears shed over not just all the kids, but mine?   It can’t just be a trinket, this person has  poured themselves into MY child.  It must be perfect, special,memorable, and let's not forget about it being under "x" amount of dollars now! :) 

       As a teacher I have gotten some pretty cool things over the years.  In fact, I was given two very personal, very perfect, gifts this year that I will always treasure.

       That is what I want, a treasure not a trinket.

       I asked Anna Kate what we should give her teacher this year in appreciation of all of the work that she has done with our “Baby Girl.”  She was so quick to answer:  "A  coffee cup, perfume, and a set of pearl earrings from Kmart."  I agreed, and she filled her bag, but I could never figure out why these things were so important.

       I pressed her(trying to write a cute little card explaining the reason behind each gift) and she wouldn’t answer me other than to say that "this is what I NEED to get."  I conceded for the simple fact that you will never win an argument with Anna Kate.

       Determined to receive clarification,  I then thought I would  “trick her.” If I changed the question would Iget the same response?

      “When you think of your teacher, what do you think about,what does she LOVE?”  Her little face was so sweet.  She was puzzled.  I changed the question on her and she caught me.  She said, ”You asked me what she would LIKE.  I already told you what she would LIKE Mommy.”  She paused and then added... “but, If you want to buy her a present about what she LOVES, then we should get her a cross!

       When I asked why, she said so simply, "Because Ms. Jones  loves Jesus!”

       Out of the mouths of babes.

        I am not sure I have ever been so humbled,  and grateful all at the same time.

       Humbled, because I know that if I asked her the same question about me, that would not be her first response.  Grateful, because she has spent the last 180 days, 1,040 hours with someone who that can be said about.

       7 year olds miss nothing.  There has been no show.  She has not been duped.  Just real life, lived out in front of real kids, for a very real Savior.

      Teachers, please remember, they are watching.  Please remember, MY children are watching.

     As far as I am concerned, I can check this one off my list...

Anna Kate gave the gifts from the Millraneys,but we found the Treasure......

                     in Ms. Micki Jones.

   

I am putting all of my eggs in one basket.....

  Human nature never ceases to amaze me.  It is as if people desire a conflict.   We thrive on controversy.  We are all “line drawers” and “side pickers” when it comes to some of the things of God.  Even within the body of Christ, we engage one another in vocal assaults.  We will talk, and argue for days about things that we are certain will change the course of history, that I am not even sure God cares about.   It seems like, as Christians, we are always looking for something with which to quarrel.

 This time of year it all boils down to eggs. (Pun intended).

I am not going to lie to you and tell you that my kids are too holy to get a basket. Every year they have seen Peter Cottontail.  I even make arrangements to get a chocolate bunny Easter morning.  Who says I can’t acquire some chocolate out of the deal?

The Easter Bunny always came to my house as a child, so I did it with my kids. Like most of us, I never really thought about it until now.

I have seen over the last few years an increase in this debate. It is as if we have drawn lines in the sand and said, “Take a side. You can’t have both.”

I have never entered the debate about the Bunny vs. Jesus that surrounds Christians and Easter.  I never stepped into the arena because I wasn’t prepared.  The premise of  “Well, it didn’t kill me, doesn’t seem to suffice as justification.

In my classroom, I encourage questions with one small caveat.  My students know if they are willing to ask the question, they must be willing to find the answer.    “Never stop learning”   is something I herald daily.

 This time I took my own advice.

Here is what I found: (I am going to try to shorten it for you)

 Easter started as a pagan holiday. It was called Eastre.  Eastre was the goddess of the dawn and the spring. She was a fertility goddess who brought the end of winter. The rabbit was Eastre’s sacred animal, due to the animals fertility and ability to rapidly reproduce. Eggs were used as a symbol of fertility and new chicks were a representation of new growth. They were an expression of Eastre’s gift of abundance.

In 325 AD, the early church used this already instituted festival of EASTRE to spread the gospel.  It would have been ludicrous, a death sentence, to begin a Christian holiday in opposition to the highly celebrated pagan one.

http://www.christianitytoday.com/ch/news/2004/why.html,

 http://www.gotquestions.org/easter-origins.html, 

 http://wilstar.com/holidays/easter.htm

Was I getting anywhere, or was this a futile attempt to justify something?  The only thing that I knew for sure was that pagans didn’t take our religious holiday and dumb it down.   I have always heard that “They” took our Holy day and made it about bunnies and eggs.   

All evidence to the contrary….

The early church (Christians) used something normal to that culture, and people of that day, to spread the message of Jesus.  Sound familiar?

THAT IS WHAT JESUS DID!

So many times in Scripture, we see Jesus use farming, shepherding, money or common things to reveal his truths to people. We call them parables. It was usually the manner in which Jesus taught.

The early church used a pagan holiday, and turned it into something good.  It was a festival of Spring, and idol worship. It had only been 325 years since Jesus walked among them.  There was no official HOLY day.  The church itself was infantile, but their evangelism strategy was genius.   Modeled by the young believers after Jesus, they used what they had, to share what they knew. 

The festival of Eastre was used so that we could one day celebrate our Holy day,  EASTER.
 
Just another example of Satan meant it for evil, but God turned it for good.

As I read all of this, I just smiled and laughed. I bet HE sat up there in Heaven and said, “Watch what I do with your little festival here.”   Isn’t that just like our God?   As a matter of fact, isn’t that the definition of  Redemption?

Totally mixed up, and messed up, and then Jesus shows up?

 That…. is the real Story of Easter.

 Honestly, after my search, I found myself humbled. I take my faith and my freedom for granted.  I sat there, and realized that the 325 A.D. Celebration of New Life and New Birth ultimately perpetrated MY new life and new birth.   You see, the early church was allowed to spread the gospel through this festival…. Eggs, bunnies, and all, until it reached me!

 We have taken something that God used to spread HIS story through history and made it sacrilegious.  Ultimately, I can sing “Because He Lives,” and “Arise” because someone long ago used the ordinary to encounter the HOLY.

So, with all of my new knowledge, did the bunny show up here?  

The answer is…….Yes!

It is yes, because I have a voice.   

We talked about gifts today.  They shared what they were given. We explained that we give gifts to remind us of the ultimate gift was Jesus giving up Himself for us.  We discussed eggs, new life, empty tombs, and salvation.     

I used these things, and followed Jesus’s example. I did what HE showed me to do.  Further the Kingdom within my own home, by using my own voice.    Using the things that they understand, to reveal God ‘s truth to them.

There is a song that was on the radio long ago.  My grandmother said that it was playing when she ran off to marry my grandfather.  It is called, “I am putting all of my eggs in one basket.”  She always talked about how appropriate that song was for the situation.  Any time I had to make a decision, she would counter with that question.  “Are you putting all of your eggs in one basket?”  Meaning: Are you willing to do this?  Are you prepared?  Have you done your research? Are you willing to go all the way? ( because if you do go all in, there is no out.)

 Knowledge is a powerful thing.  Wisdom is even more. I pray that God will lead me to apply it carefully. I am so thankful that while I may, on occasion, claim lazy, I can no longer claim uninformed.

As far as my decision: “ I will choose…. not to choose”.

 Jesus, eggs, and all is my answer.

  I have found what the early church found:  The key to it all is in the presentation. 

Yes, I am putting all of our eggs in one basket.

 I am going to trust that the God that created, and loves a child’s heart, also knows when that heart is ready to hear.   Until then, I am going to keep on talking.  I am going to use everything I am given to open the door.  Just like the early church, and Jesus’s method,   I plan on using the things they understand to show them the God I love.

Trumped

“Niki, I am going back to Africa again.” I heard his words and I just stared at my sweet husband.

“What?”  

"Why?"

“You do know that this trip is right before Spring Break, the most crazy week we get.
 It is during school  which is a no- no for long trips when you are married to a teacher).... and we have my  dreamed- of- for- years vacation planned for Spring Break."

I protested, but then logic and reason won out.

 If it is for the Kingdom of God, then who am I to argue?

As the trip got closer, I peppered him with more and more questions. 

What if? 
Ok, I admit it, I never had a peace about his going. I couldn't wrap my mind around it. He has been on longer trips, even longer to Africa, but I never really settled it in my heart that he was really going to go this time.


Now, I have been married to him for almost 20 years and being a minister.... he goes a lot.

 There was just something, a cloud over this one that I couldn't shake.

One night we actually got into a loud exchange of opposing views( I. e WW3) about all of my questions. I usually just say, “ Be safe and come home when you finish, but this time I fired off every question I could think of.

 My one concern this time was his safety. I wasn't convinced no matter what he tried to say  that he was going to be ok.  My heart just couldn't let that 
fear go.

          Which brings me to Ashton...

We have another sweet young lady in our family, her name is Ashton.

 Ashton has always been my "first daughter" ( I guess my practice one), even though I didn't give birth to her.  She was born in my heart and I love her just like she is my very own.

 Ashton has always been adventursome ( to say the least).   As she grew I knew she would not be reigned in, so I didn't even try.

 After college Ashton lived in Mali, Africa for a while serving in the Peace Corps.

 I protested to her one night about all of my concerns about Gary going to Africa again.

I was sure that since she lived the danger,  she would take my side and tell him to stay put.

 She listened and said,

 “You taught me one time that God's protection is everywhere.”

She just had to throw that back in my face.    :)

I had resolved all of the issues except one. Who would help? “Who is there to help you if something happens? What are you going to do if you get sick, or hurt, or lose your paper work?”

   It was my Big One.   That was my trump card.  Protection!

I never did get an answer from my annoyed husband about that one.

He got on the plane and the girls and I  went on with life.

 Little to no contact with him for days when he is out of the country is hard.  Silence is not golden..... most of the time it is frightening.

Then one day the phone rang. Gary had his passport stolen and needed me to somehow help him get home. 


  I immediately called Ashton.  I was sure with all of her Peace Corps training  that she would be the one who knew exactly what to do.


 I spent the next 6 hours on the phone working with people to get him home.  The plan was dangerous- to say the least.  He would have to cross borders, bribe people and all the while try not to get shot.

The U.S. embassy had promised that if he could get to a certain check point that they would send an extraction team to get him out.


A real life Mission Impossible/ Burn Notice all in one.

My worst fear was coming true .

I knew the process that he would be dangerous.  I did get to hear his voice again.  I begged for another contact.  An email, a phone call, someone who had seen him alive and could tell me where he was, anything.


 I eventually got my wish.  I did get to hear his voice again. He was nervous and I could hear it.  


.....And Gary doesn't get nervous.  He is a cool cucumber, you can't rattle him.  You just can't.
( and that was the scariest part)




His request was simple.  This is all going to start at a certain time so you need to pray.  Do NoT stop until I call you.  It will be around 6 hours where my very life will be in danger.

.......so I prayed the whole night. I started when I knew he would begin, and I prayed until I heard he was safe.

After the course of several events ( too many to go into here, but it's a great story if you ever get him to tell it), he was given his passport back. At 4:30 in the  morning I got a text that said he was safe in Rwanda and going to get on a plane to come home!

 I sat there and cried.

 I was exhausted.  I completely collapsed, but I heard God very clearly in all this:

“What  now?”

" Is that all you got?"  

 “ Next please.”

 “What other situation do you think I can't handle?”

 Niki, when you surrendered your lives to me, it had nothing to do with location. Why would you think that you are safer in the U.S. than in Africa serving ME?

 You are safe in MY hands. The Hands that hold everything. The Ones that created planets, stars, and even your very life. "

I am so glad that God puts up with me and all my doubts.  HE can take my biggest fear and dissolve it.  No matter what I come up with, HIS answer is still the same. 

......"You cannot be snatched out of my hands."

!

On Wheels....

I got to be thirteen again .... and I loved every minute of it!

For some unknown reason I have had a wild hair for about a week. Somewhere in my messed up mind, I needed to go roller-skating. I  needed the lights, the wind in my hair, and of course... “Supersonic” at a deafening level. I even tried to coerce two different friends to go with me. Being the voices of reason that I so desperately need, they both said “NO.” 

This was a disaster waiting to happen.

Now, Lindsey has been skating before, exactly-once. But, my little Anna Kate has never. She has never seen, or put on, the ugly, brown, four- wheeled, throw away your socks when you are finished and disinfect your feet skates. It was TIME for her to experience this right of childhood.

  I started off VERY apprehensive about the whole thing. I had a girl who could barely stand, and another who got out of the car, and in the parking lot decided that she would just sit it out altogether.

Not exactly a good start.

After convincing Anna Kate to walk into the building, she found her some courage. I, on the other hand, swallowed hard. I stood there knowing this could be a grand childhood memory or a massive therapy bill one day.


To say the least, we learned some valuable lessons that afternoon:

 Skates only work if you put them on.
It took a long while for Anna Kate to decide that she would skate. She watched, waited ,and she wondered about the sanity of all of this. You could read on her face the thoughts going through her little head . Why would we even try this when our two legs were just fine? I could see the struggle as she began thinking about riding a skateboard, playing a game,etc when she had to try something new  and it was good.  Remembering the difference between fine and fabulous.... and, in the end, she chose fabulous!

YOU make the skates work.
Lindsey put her skates on, then proceeded to start complaining. She insisted that they were faulty
and wanted new ones. She protested very loudly about how they wouldn't “go.” Now, keep in mind that she was just standing still during her relatively long tirade. She just stood there waiting for some magic to happen. I told her “There is no ON switch on skates my dear, you must move your feet in order for this to work.” Eureka! She started moving her feet and to her surprise, skating.

Instructions are no fun , but necessary.

The rink guard saw my girls skating and had a few things to say to them. He was a nice man who had some suggestions for them. AK looked at him and said “ I am doing good. I don't need you.” he smiled and said.... “Sweetheart, listen to me, I have done this a while and if someone is trying to help you , pay attention. They might make it a whole lot easier on you."  -  good advice

 Everyone starts off slowly.
I finally lured Anna Kate onto the rink. She was holding onto me for dear life. I had to gently explain to her that she would never ever skate until she learned to let go of me. She kept her eyes on me, or the skates, for our first few laps around the circle. Then it happened. She saw the other skaters and got just plain mad. She yelled at me to “Let go, she could do it. She didn't need me, or my help.” She wanted to go fast like everybody else. Much to her disappointment, that was not a very sound decision with her level of skill. She, of course fell, and fell, and fell. In her enthusiasm, to be something she wasn't, she skipped the basics,and all that left her was frustrated.


You can't go to the bathroom, on wheels, without lots of practice.

The inevitable happened. Someone always has to go to the bathroom. I knew that if the carpet was
difficult, and the rink even harder, then peeing on wheels could result into an epic nightmare. I wouldn't let her even try. I made her sit down and completely take off the
skates, put back on her shoes, and then go. It was a simple,everyday task, but throw in a new variable.... and everything changes. Sometimes wisdom, and experience must win out. This was a
“ Because I am the mother” moment. She didn't need all the details, just an obedient heart would save her a lot of pain and embarrassment.

Distraction can also make it dangerous.

We finally arrived at some stability. Both girls were up, and moving on their own when crowd began to grow. What was once a dimly lit room, morphed into a thirteen year old's dream; the strobe lights, loud music, and the floor flooding with preteens. Everything began to change. Getting caught up in the distractions started to interfere with their attention and skill. The lights and music and people were exciting, but somewhat unsafe on their skill level.

  Everyone falls down, skaters get back up

I looked up once and saw Lindsey on the ground. I went to her, but she just laid there. I dried her
tears, and tried to pull her back up. I couldn't.   I had to coach her, but she had to do it. I told her to get up..... and she said “No.” she was done and she was just going to stay there. I told her that this was
a skating rink ,not a sitting rink …. “skaters skate, now get up.” She finally decided that sitting there wasn't going to accomplish anything so she picked herself up and started again.

Sometimes it takes a while to get your balance

I had a hard time at first getting MY feet back under me. It honestly took a few times around the circle
before my body remembered what to do. I couldn't even begin to help,or encourage, much less teach, until I could do it without assistance.

  Beginning anything, with falling as your goal, is never going to be a good plan.

The DJ decided to play a game. Wipeout! Poor Lindsey is always the joiner. She will try anything
without fear. I warned her, but she was determined. Not knowing the rules, or even watching just once, she jumped right in.  She realized all too quickly,  this game hurts.
 
Being a mom and Skating have more similarities than you think.

As I think back, I can see it. My job as a mother, and every stage,was represented on the rink that afternoon. My babies started off needing me on so many levels, Not even taking a step without my
help. Then, little by little, they learned to stand for themselves. With instruction, and practice, they began to let go. They ran into some difficult situations. Some I could coach them through, and some
I just had to let them figure out on their own. 


Now, my girls are very young still, and we have a lifetime of lessons to endure. But it occurred to me as I removed this “too-old-to-roller-skate-body” off the rink, that they were in the middle of the floor dancing, singing and smiling. They were loving every minute of it. Doing what we came to do.

Without me.....

 I pray that one day their life will be like that. One day they will find themselves in the midst of the noise of life. One day they will be ready let go.

Right now is...... the hard part. The painful, back- breaking instructions, the trying, falling, and getting back up part.

But....
All this work will be for that moment.... the moment when I get to see them, confident, self- assured, and in love with the moments that God will give them. Enjoying their adventure, while fulfilling God's plan for their life.

and  I can't wait for that moment---- (Jam-on-it!)