When It's Not About You At All...

The Friday before last was the Annual 5th Grade Talent Show at the boys' school.  There is a lot of hype surrounding this event - over the years, school tradition has elevated talent show time to one of the Premier end-of-year events.  Since we are currently experiencing 5th grade with our oldest child, I have never actually attended this phenomenon, and am therefore a rookie.

At least, I was until that Friday.

The initiation into the world of 5th Grade's Got Talent began a few weeks ago.  Luke came home, informed me of his burning desire to participate (thus making me smile and experience a happy dance of the heart), then announced our need to get to work on his act immediately, as try-outs were the next day (which dimmed my smile somewhat and slowed the dance considerably).  Seriously?

Why?  Why?  Why are my children incapable of timely notice for any event in which they are involved?  Why does no one listen or communicate until the last minute?  Why, just once, can't we pretend to be organized instead of acting like headless chickens?  When I expressed my annoyance with this to Luke, his reaction was to fling his arms wide, exclaiming, "What can I say, Mom?  I'm a procrastinator!"

I blame his father.

Before you judge me for my irritation, let me explain to you the scope of his idea.  His vision stemmed from a funny conversation we had the week before at dinner.  And from the fact that I am his mother and view life through the lens of a musical (reference Life's A Dance).  It was "so simple".  All we had to do was create a parody of Jason Derulo's song, "Talk Dirty to Me" - reworking the lyrics, choreographing a dance and putting together a costume; all culminating in a clever and funny rendition of a new song, "Talk Nerdy to Me".
Starting at 4pm.
To be done, polished and audition-ready for school the next day.
In spite of dinner, homework and soccer practice.
While waiting on Gregg to get home with a second load of dirt to haul in and dump in our newly-constructed raised garden.....and then put the remaining plants in it....before dark.

No problem.
Because that saying.....you know, the one people hang on clever little signs in their office cubicle to tell everyone that "Lack of prior planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part", thus letting the world know they require notice for any project or situation.....yeah, that rule in no way applies to parenthood.  Everything involving children constitutes an urgent situation on Mom's part.  Every.  Single. Thing.

Thank goodness for YouTube and iTunes - it had the karaoke version of the song,  Score!

So, with dinner cooking, a carpool going and a daddy not quite home for gardening, we pulled out math, science and social studies notebooks and Luke started making lists of every 5th grade fact he's learned this year.  Brainstorming at it's finest, folks.

I booted up the laptop and got to Googling.  I'm going to do you a solid, here.  Because I love you all, I'm taking one for the team and saving you some pain.  Do not, under any circumstances, look up the lyrics to this song.  Or watch the video.  It's time and brain space I can't get back.  And the lyrics (especially the uncensored version) defy description.

This from a Beastie Boys fan.

Even so, and in spite of my constant stopping to pause or slap my hands over young ears making their way into the kitchen as I tried to get the song's flow in my head, Luke and I managed to bang out some pretty clever lyrics.  Here they are:

Talk Nerdy to Me

Luke Greebon

I’m that guy that you question

About lab safety

Wear your goggles, roll your sleeves up

And wait for Mrs. Wing

‘Cause I know how to change that mass

Solid, liquid, gas

I got beakers filled with solution

The solvent’s disappearing!

Been around the world and I know my capitals

‘Cause geography’s a non-negotiable

Word to Bismarck up in North Dakota

Come here and talk nerdy to me

Talk nerdy to me

Talk nerdy to me

Talk nerdy to me

Don’t pants me, got it?

You know I’m such a smarty

I passed my STAAR test

And now it’s time to party

Please make mine wheat-less

I know all that fancy math

Hands on equations

I got lots of facts in my brain, yo

Valedictorian bound!

Been around the world and I know my capitals

‘Cause geography’s a non-negotiable

Word to Harrisburg in Pennsylvania

Come here and talk nerdy to me

Talk nerdy to me

Talk nerdy to me

Talk nerdy to me

He figured out a basic costume and some dance moves, made it into the show, and spent the next week or two practicing and polishing his act.

When the actual date and time for performance came, I was a total basket case.  Seeing how nervous he was at lunch (he didn't eat all his food - I cannot think of the last time that happened) sent me into the nausea level of anxiety.  How did my mom handle all my years of shows and performances?  It's insane how nervous you can get for your kid!!

Finally, it was show time.  Our whole family came.  The cafeteria filled with students, staff and family members => an audience of close to 800.  Yeah....try that on for size as 11 year old kids who have to stand in front of a crowd that size and find the guts to strut their stuff.  Luke's turn was at about the halfway point of the show.  And strut his stuff he did.  He killed it!  I mean, totally killed it.  From the moment he walked out onto the stage, in full nerd character, he owned that room and everyone in it.  He remembered all the lyrics, he projected and he danced his adorable little rear end off in the funniest "nerd" hip hop moves I have ever seen.  Adults and children alike were screaming with laughter, cheering him on and clapping wildly throughout and at the conclusion of the performance.  My face about split in two with the size of my smile. Gregg was in total awe, unable to believe the courage and swagger of his son.  His grandparents and aunts were ecstatic. Drew was hopping in his seat, calling "That's my brother!".  And Emry......well, our little bug was having a bit of an identity crisis.  She clapped for her brother, maybe not with full enthusiasm, but she did applaud him. Then, she sank into a pouty melancholy for the remainder of the show, her expression darkening with every act that followed (especially the girls).

Trying to leave the school afterwards was like trying to exit an arena with a rock star.  Luke was surrounded by kids asking him to show them the "nerdy dance" or breaking into their own rendition of it. His buddies were clapping him on the back and teachers doled out high fives.  We took pictures and gave hugs.  And a certain curly-haired little cutie did cartwheels until she could hardly stand upright.....to no avail.  The star of the hour remained her oldest brother.  Hmm.....

We (finally) made it to the car, loaded up and headed home.  The boys and I were rehashing the various feats as Emry perused a catalogue with studied indifference (I am not even kidding - it was an Oscar-worthy affectation.  She was fully peeved).  Every once in a while, when we spoke of one of the girls' song or dance numbers, she would pause and toss out, "I'm prettier than her", then go back to casually flipping magazine pages.  We chose not to react.  Finally, when Luke was talking to me about one of the emcee's, he described her as "the one in the blue dress with the pretty hair".  That was the proverbial last straw for our little prima donna.  Her head snapped up, she slammed her reading material closed, and with eyes flashing she announced, "Let me just say that I am cuter than all of them!"

The hair compliment not aimed at her just pushed her right over the edge.  She could take no more.

I bit my lip, torn between wanting to laugh and wondering whether to chastise her.  Luke looked at me, eyebrows raised.  Drew stared at her in shock, unable to process this level of sassiness (even though he tells everyone he knows that his sister is the sassiest girl ever born).

I gazed at her in the rear view mirror, seeing the hurt and confusion in her little face, the tender heart hidden under the cheeky words.  I thought about the fact that while, yes, we are learning and working on humility and an ability to let others shine....she is only four years old.  And much of her identity is wrapped up in how others speak to and about her - often this is in the form of applause and attention to her dancing/singing/cartwheeling self, her big brown eyes and long lashes, her amazing long and curly hair.  She is still small enough to garner lots of words of affirmation and praise for simple things.  And she adores her brothers, who constantly tell her what a cutie she is....especially Luke.  She just couldn't handle any more of his (and all of our) attention to be elsewhere.

She'll have to learn how to do so.  Lest you think we let her ego run unchecked, know that we rein her in with regularity, and will continue to do so as she grows.  This will be a lot less cute at fourteen, we know.

But it's a lifelong lesson.  I can openly admit to you, I still have days where I battle this.  If you're honest, as you roll your eyes at my admission, you probably need to acknowledge a bit of the same.

It's hard, sometimes, to sit back and watch as what feels like the rest of the world gets their turn, reaps their reward, has their 15 minutes of fame....all while we trudge along, feeling unrecognized or unsatisfied or unfulfilled.  Our inner child waves her arms and stomps her feet, crying out, "What about me?"

We know, just know, that we could do as well or better, if only given the spotlight and a chance to shine.

Waiting is never the fun part.

The phrase "do your time" is never one we want to hear.  Nor is "it's not your turn this time".

Yet, like it or not, want to or not....it's part of life.  Our experiences, our disappointments, our challenges and moments out of the sun prepare us just as much as the accolades, attention and limelight for what it is we are meant to accomplish in this lifetime.  Our destiny rarely looks like we think it should or imagined it would.  Yet, if we are patient and open-minded, listening to the still small voice and answered prayers (as well as the unanswered ones), we may just find a mind-blowing life path and storybook ending that surpasses all we could have ever hoped for or envisioned for ourselves.

What a magnificent day it is, when we finally get that picture.  What an even better day it is when we successfully pass it on.

Solidarity sisters.  Eventually, we all get our turn.

Motherhood

It's Mother's Day!  It's Mother's Day! And I would be remiss in not posting about this topic, given how much I write about being a mom on other days.  I was fortunate enough to have the privilege of speaking about Mother's Day this morning to a gracious and amazing audience who honored and humored me.  So, I thought I'd share some of the highlights....and maybe add a little bit or two.

It’s a difficult thing to sum up motherhood.  There are so many components and emotions and moving pieces at any and every given time.  I sent out a request to mothers for their descriptors and got lots of responses – most were along similar themes. 

Some sent single words.

Some sent phrases.

Some sent explanations.

Some asked me to get their answers later because this is a bad week and they couldn’t think of anything nice to say or why they had kids in the first place.

I asked my children to help me out and provide their opinion on what I should talk about, given that they are on the receiving end of my mothering skills (or lack thereof).  Their responses were pretty much what you would expect from each personality.

Luke:  You should talk about how blessed you are to have a good mother.  You know, who loved you and took care of you and taught you how to make good choices  (shout out to my mom here).  Then go on to say how incredibly blessed you are to have married a good man and had three wonderful and beautiful kids, the oldest being especially amazing.

Drew: Do that verse.  You know, the one about how kids need to listen to their parents and they will be rewarded (Ephesians 6:1-3 – Children obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right.  “Honor your father and mother” – which is the first commandment with a promise – “that it may go well with you and that you may enjoy long life on the earth.”).  Then talk about all the things mothers do for their kids and how they love their kids.  And you know all this because you are a mother.  Then, when it’s time to wrap it up, finish with how the only reason anyone is alive is because of their mother (pat tummy).  And the kids at this church are here today thanks to all the mothers here.

Emry: You should tell them about God and stuff.  And about mothers.  (When questioned further): Well, I don’t know.  I’m not a mother. (Asked again): You know….moms get mad and sad and happy.  Yep, tell them about all those things.

                Then sing “Let it Go” from Frozen.

I didn't, you'll be happy to know.  I thought about it.....but didn't (though we did show a short clip) 

I thought so much about all of the ways that mothers affect their children.  We touch every aspect of their lives, often without gratitude or credit, existing as the unsung heroes (or villains) - until they win an Oscar or Olympic medal, and then the shout outs come a rollin'.

E.W. Caswell: The mother, more than any other, affects the moral and spiritual part of the children’s character.

                Fabulous.  Great.  Who set that up?  Because I know I don’t stand alone here when I say that’s a huge responsibility.  And no one gave me an instruction manual.  Or unlimited stores of energy.  And some days, the thought of repeating myself one more time, or picking up one more piece of clothing off the floor, or explaining why you have to brush your teeth every day (again), or running yet another forgotten lunch to school, or trying to remember algebra, or being the brunt of a bad mood/pouting/crying/ingratitude, or the inability to get anything done on time makes me want to strangle people and scream until I’m hoarse.  Anyone else able to admit they are not the picture of serenity and love all the time?

It just gets to be too much.  I mean, it’s like I’m Charlie Brown’s teacher. 

I say “Go brush your teeth” – they hear “tackle your brother”

I say “Bring me your backpack” – they hear “sit on the couch and look for the remote”

I say “It’s time for bed” – they hear “it’s time for your best impression of a filibuster”.  Like a debate is going to change bedtime.  It never works.  Why do they keep trying?  And why is it always a surprise?

I often find myself thinking, “It shouldn’t be this hard.  Surely it was never meant to be this hard.”  Except….it was.  Think back to the beginning, and how motherhood came about.

It all started with our friend, Eve, didn't it?  She had it pretty good - only woman on Earth; no need for competition; no worries about fashion, trends, modesty or body image; no juggling of career and house work.....you get the picture.  Then, bam!  She listened to a snake and all hell broke loose.  Sound familiar?More than one sister has sung that song.

I've wished, on more than one occasion, that I could help her out, thus helping all of us out.  I have a very clear answer to the whole "If you could go back in time and talk to anyone, dead or alive, who would it be?'.  Anyone ever answer that one in an ice breaker or new job situation?  Or perhaps one of those Zimbio quizzes - you know the ones I mean.  They're all over Facebook, telling us who we really are, or what color our hair should be, or where we were meant to live..... I mock myself in this, as well.  I'm just as obsessed with them as the next girl.  You'll be happy to know that I am a true brunette, if I were a drink I'd be a glass of Merlot, if I were a Disney princess I'd be Anna (from Frozen), if I were a Barbie I'd be Rapper Barbie (I kid you not, I can't make this stuff up), my Disney prince soul mate is Prince Eric, my 80's cartoon identity is She-Ra, in the Wizard if Oz I'm Glenda the Good Witch and if they made a movie of my life the actress who should play me is Emma Watson.  Let's take a minute with that one, shall we?  Really, quiz people?  Tiny, diminuitive, English, sleek-haired Emma Watson?  Ok, I can get past the size - who doesn't want to be portrayed by a petite?  And she's a good little actress, so could probably pull off the Texas accent with some practice.  But, the hair.....I can't accept that part.  I know she's got the power of Hollywood hair and make-up people behind her.......but this hair doesn't just happen overnight.  It's a life long, genetic phenomenon. Plus, she's twelve.  Why the heck couldn't they give me Sandra Bullock? 

Sorry.  Back to the time machine.  So, I'd hop on in that puppy and head right back to the beginning - no other destination will do.  My plan is simple, yet brilliant - jump out at the opportune moment in time, have me a little intervention and make my way home with a new pair of boots, maybe a matching belt.  Yep.  Eve and I, we'd have our little chat, but I don't believe in leaving loose ends.  

I wonder if she'd get it....I wonder if she'd listen, as I explain to her that her gravy train is worth so much more than a simple piece of fruit.  Fruit!  Not worth it, sister - it's not even fermented or dipped in chocolate. The change that simple bite is going to bring about is beyond what I could explain to her in mere words.  I would try, though.  And truly, if she wants to get into clothing that badly, I'd offer to leave her the belt.  All the fun is in accessorizing, anyway.

I doubt it would change anything, this fool proof plan of mine.  Destiny is what it is, and human nature is a stubborn phenomenon.  So, the path was inevitable, and the bargain was struck.

Eve’s bargain: eat the fruit, gain the knowledge of God.  Know what He knows.  Experience what He experiences.  And she did.  She experienced:

·         The growing and bringing forth of life from herself

·         Exhaustion of raising children (even God rested on Day 7, after Adam and Eve)

·         Joy and stress of watching her children grow

·         Need for discernment, boundary setting, protection of her children

·         Sadness at watching a child become unsatisfied, jealous, ungrateful, displeased, covetous

·         Devastation of one son harming and ultimately killing the other; loss of one child at the hand of      another

·         Frustration of children’s disobedience, sin => consequences, pain, suffering, death

·         Ability to see what’s best for children who strain against authority, wisdom, big picture

Talk about a case of be careful what you ask for, because what you think you want isn’t at all what you need.  Grass - not greener.

Yet, I have to admit that I have a lot of grace for my many times great big sister, Eve.  As much as I may fantasize about five minutes in a locked room with her, I can't be too angry.  After all, if we're being honest, had it not been her it would have been one of us.  We're always looking for the next better thing.  I whine and moan as much as anyone.  And even more than that.....thanks to her, I get to be a mom.  Motherhood came about, a blessing with the curse, and I can't imagine life without it.  The love and joy and gift being a mother brings keeps us going through the work and exhaustion and busyness with a beautiful craziness we get nowhere else.  It drops us to our knees and lifts us above anything we could imagine.  It drives us - sometimes crazy, other times to acts of love and service and courage that we never thought possible.  It shows us how boundless we can love another and gives us overwhelming joy.  We dream big dreams, pray bigger prayers and view our children through a lens of hope, pride and love that no one else can fathom.

I have so many hopes for my kids - most involving their ability to embrace every moment of love and laughter and learning, then get out there and live.  I mean, really live.  I want them to have vibrant, full, amazing lives.  I want them to walk with their heads held high, confident in the fact that they are loved and cherished and special; that they are strong and saved and valuable; that their presence in this world is intentional and has purpose and meaning.  I want them to seek out experiences and follow their dreams, looking for the path that leads to the life they are meant to live.  I want them to define what that is with precision, and boldness in pursuing the life they want, in whatever form that takes.  Yet, not to formulate an image that the end goal is a life of comfort.  Difference makers don’t aim for comfort.  And, oh please God, let them be difference makers.  I want so much to model that for them, so they know it’s possible during this lifetime and in this broken world to shine with an un-dimmable light.  To walk without fear, never doubting the One who saves, watches and loves without end. 

My prayer is for them to be so much more than I am – to be smarter, funnier, stronger, more beautiful, more confident – overall, just better.  To set a foundation that roots them in the true rock, and helps avoid my fallacies bringing them down.

I want them to:

Love fiercely

Laugh without fear of the future

Learn until the day they die

Live like they are already on their journey to eternity.

My children are the very height of my earthly achievements.  They are the best thing I could ever hope to accomplish.  All three – regardless of where they go, who or what they become – whether they attain fame or quiet success, live flamboyantly or in obscurity, stay the righteous course or fall off the wagon a time or six…..will always be the very pinnacle of my existence and legacy.

I have always been a believer.  But no other experience in my life drives home the message of Limitless/Eternal Love and Salvation like Motherhood.

I would die for my kids.  Given the chance, given the choice to spare them, I would endure beatings and chains, ridicule and ruin.  If the situation demanded it, if it were in my power to save them, even offer the slightest hope of saving them from pain, sin, or condemnation – I would experience any humiliation, pay any price, die any death…..and I would do it without an ounce of hesitation.

They don’t have to earn this.

They don’t have to ask for this.

They don’t even have to accept or believe this.

They are my children.

That’s enough.

And if I – flawed, weak, impatient, selfish, sinful Rebecca; merely a human mother given the chance to hold them for a blink of eternity…..if even I know how to do this for my children, how much more is the God of all Creation, my Father in heaven, the One with limitless time, energy, patience, love, knowledge and power ready to do for me, and for you, and for every one of His children?  How much has He already done, even though we don't always see or acknowledge it? (Matthew 7:11)

I know that tomorrow, the hype and helpfulness of today will be long forgotten.  It will be just another ordinary day in which I have to do laundry and pick up toys/clothes/dishes/etc.  I'll repeat myself 20 times to get everyone out the door in the morning and into bed in the evening.  I'll go back to juggling work and kids and schedules and dinner and school projects and honey-do lists.  I'll get my normal quota of kisses and hugs, along with the normal lack of thank you's and listening.  Life will go back to routine.  And you know what?  It'll be just fine.  Because they'll love me as much as they always do.  I'll love them even more.  We'll keep moving forward and growing and being a family....unique in our stories and memories and style.  I'll look at my foam journal (that says "Mom you rock" in sparkly stickers)...and my handprint-stamped hot pad......and my beautiful new necklace and bracelet set.  And I'll say yet another prayer of thanksgiving for this life I live, with the roles I've been handed and the gorgeous family I've been given.

I'll keep doing my best to raise a generation of difference makers.  I'll screw up....but hopefully not too badly.  Most of the time, the don't even notice my mistakes.  And when they do, and they love me anyway, my heart will overflow, yet again.  Because that's a lesson as well - in unconditional love and grace and forgiveness....for themselves as well as others.  And after all, that's what it's all about.

Solidarity, sisters.  God bless all the mothers.