Sifting

There are a few main reasons why I write. It is both personal and communal. The personal part is that writing helps me give words to my experiences, feelings and thoughts. Words are the tools I use to process those things and to engage in the world. There is a life-long love affair being conducted between me and words. It's probably one of the reasons I talk so much! The communal part is that I recognize that not everyone has the words for their experiences but when they read someone else's words, their heart recognizes a friend. And I think that is so incredibly important. Seeing yourself in another person's experience gives you a sense of not being alone and sometimes it helps you feel like you're not crazy, which is something we often tell women when their feelings are big. Sometimes how someone responds to a situation is different than how you tend to respond and that's fascinating and maybe even helpful. The human experience of being isolated is so incredibly damaging to who we are. So, in my vulnerability, if I'm able to give words to another mother, another child, another whomever, I am willing to do that because I think this work deeply matters. Stories are life. And life is best when shared.

I recently shared an old story (if you can call three months ago old) that got a lot of response. I like response! It's kind of a writers nightmare to have no one respond to your work. It makes you feel like maybe your experiences aren't shared and that's sad. Some responses are hard to process, especially because they may hit on things that hadn't occurred to me or make me feel misunderstood or hurt. That's part of this process too. And that's okay. But it doesn't mean it isn't hard. It's really hard for me. And that bad ass in me who puts words to feelings is not always present when words are presented back to me directly. I need to be honest about that. I don't write because I can take a lot of hits. I write in spite of the hits that will come.

If there was any kind of "agenda" (does anyone else hate that word?) in my latest post, it was based in this place. This place that wants to give words and honor experience. This place that wants kids to be safe and adults to be careful with them. I think that's a good place to write from, even when anger pours out of it. Anger can be really, really good and that's something I need to continually affirm as anger was not acceptable for me to display as a child and it's still not okay for me to display as a woman, at least not without suspicion of some kind of intended harm. There was no harmful intent here.

It's funny because after the last writing-related blow up, my husband teased me about being a "pot stirrer." And we laughed, mainly because I stir a lot of pots with a lot of discomfort. I stir pots when I find opportunities to advocate for things more important than my discomfort. And that is true here. I wrote in hopes that other parents would have words for those moments when your heart gives pause and you don't know why. I wrote to inspire conversation with children, to empower others to allow their kids to have a say in what's taught to them and to make space for their process. I wrote to engage on a parenting front. This was a conversation I had between me and my daughter that I chose to make public. Fallout with other adults, teachers, church leaders was not even on my radar and frankly, such a lesser concern to me than what my post was about. I would like to point out that I was intentional about not being specific about who was involved or where we received this teaching. I learned that lesson and it was painful! If it was revealed in response who was part of this, that was not my doing. And I could care-take that I should have anticipated that as a possibility but I'm going to release that. I didn't reveal those things. It's not that I don't care how adults view my writing or my approach to my situation from VBS but it's that it entirely misses the point of my post. Adult feelings take a back seat to how we plant seeds in children's hearts about themselves and about God. That's why I didn't process my feelings about my kid with my kid. I processed my kids feelings with my kid and my feelings with other adults. And I did that when this happened.

I do want to clarify something that doesn't seem to have been clear in my original post.

I HAVE NO PERSONAL PROBLEM WITH THE TEACHER IN THIS SITUATION.

I have no relationship with this person. I do not know her. And if anything, I'VE BEEN HER. You guys realize that I taught things like this, right?!?! Mostly to teens, which was at least slightly more developmentally appropriate but still regretful (there is a future post here for sure), but I have been this person time and time again. And my heart twinged but I read the script (she followed the curriculum, which was why I was angry about the curriculum, not the person following it). And I did it with good intent. And I did it because I did what I was told. And I did it because I believed it. I meant what I told my daughter that morning. I told her we could extend her teacher grace and for once, thank God, I wasn't just trying to do the right thing and be a good example to my kid. I was actually able to do the right thing in that moment. I knew then as I know now that I was being triggered by a whole lot of baggage, decades of baggage, that had absolutely nothing to do with her as a person. So writing this story three months later came with absolutely no negative feelings towards her. And if for some reason, this stranger has come upon my writing (that could only really happen if someone deliberately shared it with her), I want to say - we're cool. I have no beef with you. And if my pain hurt you, that was not my intent.

I do want us to be careful with our curriculum selection. That was the only "to do" I was hoping to see in response. That's all :)

I also learned something about myself before things got really stressful in the response. I learned that I have allowed my perfectionism into the space of my theology and how I teach theology to my children. My anger came from a visceral response to anyone violating that sacred space. And that comes from a deep protectiveness that was not honored in my soul or in my husband's soul when he was fired. And having that first seed of dishonor planted in my child triggered me in a real way. This is trauma, friends. I was hurt. My husband was hurt. So anything that looks remotely like that trauma placed upon my innocent child brought out the mama bear claws. And honestly, I'm okay with that. I can validate those feelings with or without the understanding of my peers. Because trauma is a tapestry. When you pull at that thread, which I've been doing for six years, sometimes things unravel. That's how we get to the root of the problem. That's the personal side. The church of Christ side is that we've created a dynamic where we do what we're told, especially women, and we honestly believe it's okay to teach young children about sin. We think that's important. I don't. And that's not mine to hold. I get to decide what to do with my experience. It might look like not participating in VBS. That seems like a tidy, obvious answer. Except my kid might conclude that she's missing out on something she enjoys with her friends because she opened up to her mom. Right? I'm going to tread lightly in what this looks like for me in the future. And that's okay. Because it's October. I don't have to know what I'm going "to do" in this moment. Is it possible that there is nothing to do? Just to hold pain and acknowledge it? For me, yes. Sometimes that's more than enough to do for the day. So that's where I'll be today. Home. Holding my pain. And giving it the validation it needs. Hugs to you, friends. Whether you get it or not, pain is universal.

I've been meaning to write this post for awhile. VBS happens in the summer, y'all! So here's what happened: I sent my kids to VBS. I was a little nervous about the theology that would be planted in their hearts but I was reassured by several people that VBS theology is usually pretty tame in the churches of Christ (yes, I sent them there). Usually the "fire and brimstone" stuff isn't emphasized. It's not really our way. We like our salvation process to be well thought out and not particularly emotional. Unless we're at camp. Then all bets are off.

However, here's the snag. The "VBS in a box" kit was purchased from some mainstream evangelical source, not the churches of Christ. The flashy, cool stuff never comes from us. And this was really flashy and cool and my children had a great time. They still talk about it. And it's like this every year, which is why I send them back (plus, let's be honest: free childcare in the summer is like panning for gold...you will search and search for a tiny sliver of it so your kids survive the summer with frazzled mom).

And so, in the middle of the freebies that came home every day and the stories of the games and food, I had a 9 year old with a heavy heart by the end of the week. It was incredibly fortuitous that she and I both woke up at least an hour early on the same day for "no reason" after that week was over. And because mom got a break, she used that time to hold her child and have a heart-to-heart. Macy's not a sharer so this was rare and I'm so grateful it played out this way. Because otherwise,

I WOULD HAVE NEVER KNOWN THIS TOTAL BULLSHIT WAS TAUGHT TO MY CHILD AT A FORMATIVE AGE.

So she asked me, "Does it break God's heart every time I make a mistake (this is a question from one perfectionist to another, if you can imagine the tenderness being exposed here)?"

"No darling, God expects everyone to make mistakes. It's part of being human and he made us human on purpose."

"But at VBS, we all had to write down our "sins" and then we had to write them on a cross and the teacher showed everybody. And I didn't know anyone else was going to see it and my handwriting is really big."

"That must have made you feel really exposed that she didn't ask your consent and didn't make it clear to you that others were going to see what you wrote."

"Yes that was really embarrassing (enter disparaging remarks about teacher). Then when she held up all our "sins", she took a heart and broke it in half and that was supposed to represent God's heart every time we make a mistake."

[Enter "dear God, help me not scream or cry right now" into my frantic brain.]

"Here's the thing, babe. Some people really believe that. Some people believe that God requires us to be perfect and that because we can't be perfect, that's what makes us need God. And that's why Jesus died."

"But Mom, does he even like me at all?"

"Yes darling. He thinks you're amazing. And he would never make you feel terrible for not being able to be perfect. In fact, I've found him to be much more kind to me in my perfectionist brain than I am to myself. And that's why I reject this theology. Beliefs are a choice. Do you think that if you conclude after hearing a belief that God does not even like you, does that sound like good news?

"No, this is not good news."

"Then it's not Jesus. Your teacher believes this and we can extend grace to her, though I know you're angry. And it's sad that this is the framework she's living in. But you get to decide what you hold and what you let go of. This sounds like something that isn't serving you, as it didn't serve me. You get to choose if you agree with your teacher."

"I don't think she likes me. She didn't like it when I asked questions."

"Yes, often in this kind of framework, there isn't room for questions."

"If I can't ever be perfect. Why even try?" [Because in this framework, the other option is eternal damnation.] Tears trickle down her face.

"Ah, you've hit my other rubric for if something is from God."

"What?"

"So one is, is this good news? Two is, does this give me hope? So the question is, seeing God's heart break because you can't always behave a certain way and you're the reason he died and you'll never be able to get it right...did that theology give you hope?"

"No."

"There you go. At the end of the day, you may decide to agree with your teacher. That's your choice to make because beliefs are a choice. You may agree with me that this is totally untrue. Just so you can hear another viewpoint, I believe that God made us human on purpose, that he delights in us and that there is no condemnation for those who love him (or for anyone, frankly). I believe that Jesus paid the debt of sin for all humanity once and for all. I believe we are safe and good and loved. Yes, of course, we should take responsibility when we hurt other people, even on accident. But that comes from a place of love for self and others, not from fear of punishment or shame. I believe that the message of Jesus is good news for everyone, not just for people who behave a certain way or who look a certain way. It's for everyone. And I believe that he is the author of hope. He's got this all figured out. And we're okay. We don't need to fix the world or save anyone. We just need to try to be decent people and love him and others. But ultimately, you get to decide what you believe. And as you grow up, you'll hear a lot of what other people believe. But you get to filter it through your experiences and ideas to see what you want to hold and what you want to release. You may grow up to believe very differently from me. And that's okay. That's what Grandpa calls "working out your faith." That's one of my favorite things about faith - it's yours to hold and shape."

"So I can just let this go if it makes me feel bad about myself and God?"

"Yup."

"Okay." Hugs. Back up to bed.

Deep breaths. What if we hadn't both woken up early? This kiddo doesn't talk to me about her experiences and feelings, but this time she did. And it really mattered. And I'm so grateful. I don't know if this will be enough to pluck out that seed planted in her heart and I'm feeling guilt for exposing her to this. And she wants to go back next summer because everything else was great. Ugh. At least I've got a whole year to figure out how to find a fun VBS that doesn't poison my child's self-worth and view of how God sees her.

You guys, if after a lesson a child at a formative age comes away with 2 questions: Does God even like me? And why even try to be good? THIS IS A RED FLAG. I don't care how flashy the stage is, how fun the crafts are, CHECK YOUR THEOLOGY. THIS IS NOT OKAY. Sometimes, we get a chance to parent ourselves while parenting our children. This raw, innocent early experience with religious shame and loss of hope put me back in touch with my own innocence. I responded with fervent intent to be perfect. Macy already knows that's a bust. Thank God for books for children about perfectionism. But then her reaction was a total loss of hope. It makes sense to me.

The more I've sifted through my theology, the more I've come to focus on the fruit of belief. It's not just about what is true and holding onto it. It's about how we are affected when we embrace a certain truth. Does this belief make me more compassionate towards others? Does this belief make me judge others? Does this give me hope? Does this help me understand others and have empathy? Does this belief make me feel affirmed in myself or like shit about things I cannot change (holla LGBTQI!)? This matters. This matters even more to me than the core beliefs themselves and ideas of absolute truth. And that's why I think there should be diversity of belief in community. Some people can hold certain beliefs and be engaged and loving in the world and others curl up in the closet and die. We gotta figure out what beliefs serve us and our mission in the world to be kind, to give grace, to make peace. And that is the polar opposite of how I was raised - that there is one truth, one interpretation of it and you're in or you're out. It's that framework that makes it okay to form children in this way because the alternative is hell. Any kind of shaming, stripping of humanity or judgement is better than eternal damnation, right? This is how we justify excommunication. This is how we can revoke rights for "others" because it's "loving" to tell them "the truth" so they can "come to God." If we make their lives fair, they'll have no reason to come crawling to God for mercy, right? This shit is toxic and it starts YOUNG.

This is the shit I've taken 6 years to unpack in myself and I'll be damned if I stand by and watch someone else do it to my kid. How dare we do this to children. Shame on us. This shit stops now.