A Question of Honor

While teaching years ago, I had an interesting exchange with a group of students in my sophomore English class. They were working together on a project, and I overheard one of them say, “Did you see how Mr. So-and-So (another teacher) left the room during our test? He deserves for us to cheat.”

This totally caught my ear, and I inserted myself in their conversation. “What do you mean he deserves for you to cheat?” and the girl replied, “Hey, if he’s going to leave the room and basically invite us to cheat on the test, then I’m going to take him up on it! He deserves it for being so stupid.”

 

test

 

This, of course, did not sit well with me. “So any teacher that doesn’t keep watch over you like a hawk is stupid and basically giving you the right to cheat?” The students chimed in in agreement.

I asked them if they considered themselves to be honorable people, and they all kind of looked at each other like I was speaking Cantonese. I rephrased my question: “How do you know you have honor if you never get the chance to be honorable?” I explained that if they are always treated as untrustworthy and ready to do the wrong thing, they would never learn whether or not if—left solely up to them—they would do the right thing.

We talked some more about it, but ultimately I did not change their minds—at least no one let on that I might have. As far as they were concerned, it was the teacher’s responsibility to make sure they did not cheat—not theirs.

External factors, not internal ones, decided their behavior. It was one of those days as a teacher that put a ding in my armor of hope.

 

hope

 

I’m a worrier. It’s in my DNA, unfortunately, though I desperately try to let it go as I know I should. But I just find too many things to worry about, and one of them is the state of honor in our world.

How we behave when “no one is looking” is taking new paths with our growing technological world. And, sadly, as far as I see it, too many of those paths are scary and mean—and sometimes terribly destructive.

As I’ve written before, the way people feel entitled to make hurtful, nasty comments online really hurts my heart. It seems that the ability to write anything you want with little recourse has emboldened an awful lot of people to say an awful lot of awful.

Recently in the news there’s been coverage on an app called Yik Yak that allows people to post completely anonymously, and it has become so brutal that schools are asking the developers to block it in the radius of all schools.

Certainly we have had bullies and jerks since the dawn of time, and many a bathroom wall has been scrawled with malicious comments, but with the ability to reach entire schools and beyond with the touch of a “send,” the ability to be scathingly cruel is reaching new—and powerful—lows.

 

bathroom wall

 

When did this become the norm? It’s not okay that our world is increasingly more tolerant of snipe and snark.

Even sites like Yelp have created a culture of the haughty know-it-alls who are ready to rip any business they feel “deserves” it. Don’t get me wrong—I believe in the concept of community reviews—but there is a way to go about it that shares your opinion without trying to take down whatever business is in your sites.

 

review

 

Would these “reviewers” say this to the business owner in person?

Personally, I think that’s a pretty good gauge about whether or not most comments should be made. If you’re not willing to say it right to the person’s face, then don’t blast it for everyone else in the world to take in. People’s livelihoods are at stake, and while it might feed someone’s ego to make snipey comments about the meal they had at a local restaurant or customer service they received at the dry cleaners, I ask that we keep honor in mind as we make those comments.

 

loser

 

I’m not saying we need to only leave positive reviews or comments. I have let several companies know when I have been unhappy with their service or products. (For instance, there was the time I told the hotel rep directly that our stay was really poor and they told me to take it up with corporate, and when I did, corporate’s remedy was to give me 30% off of my next stay at the very hotel I was complaining about. Sigh.)

But we can be more honorable, can’t we? Can’t we comment as though there is an actual human being on the receiving end of our words….because…there is.

Anonymity shouldn’t breed cruelty. It shouldn’t be a shield behind which we can throw stones to hurt others. It shouldn’t be a way to “get even” in a world where there’s already plenty of hurt to go around.

I can’t see how being able to get away with things—be it cheating on a test or making mean-spirited comments—makes anyone walk taller or feel better about themselves. But honor sure does.

 

TKAM

 

There’s a wonderful quote from To Kill a Mockingbird about the character Atticus Finch from his neighbor Miss Maudie. She says he’s “the same in his house as he is on the public streets.” A high compliment on the value of being true to yourself and acting honorably.

As far as I’m concerned, I think the world needs a LOT more Atticus Finches.

 

He’s Beyond Me

drumEquipping for our obsolescence…isn’t that the main role of a parent? Parents strive to prepare their kids to be healthy, independent members of society. Our success means…they don’t need us anymore.

As the mom of a ten-year-old, I am obviously not there yet. Just getting him to butter his toast without showering crumbs into the stratosphere is a challenge. But I do already see flashes of the future man he will be.

When I see his caring touch with younger kids—even as an “only” not able to experience younger siblings—I see the loving dad he one day may become.

And when I see him calculate math problems that already make my eyes cross, I see the complex problem solver evolving who one day will be able to tackle the difficult issues that come his way.

Even though he’s only ten, I already see that he is beyond me in some ways, and it is both a scary and amazingly wonderful feeling.

With the math, it’s mostly because I’m more than a little bit rusty on the work he is doing, and it never came easy to me in the first place. Thankfully, I am blessed with a math-minded spouse, so I am able to say, “Go ask your dad,” but if I needed to, I’m relatively sure that I could reawaken that part of my brain and help him out. (Right?)

But there is one part of his world that he is already clearly beyond me, and it touches my heart deeply.

 

piano

 

I love music, but I don’t play an instrument. If you remember my history of faking the flute, you know I greatly respect musicians and wish I had the ability. So much so that I did try piano lessons as an adult, but after reaching the heights of “My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean,” I knew it was time to turn in the keys. Between needing my hands to move independently of one another and follow the music, the spaz in me just couldn’t keep up. And when my beloved piano teacher added the foot pedal, well…I think I simply combusted internally.

But my kid gets it.

He is learning both the piano and drums (talk about needing to coordinate independent movements!), and he gets it.

He’s beyond me…and I love it.

 

sheet

 

Hearing him play makes my heart smile. It’s like he knows a language that I never will, and though I wish I did know it, the fact that he does…well, it’s just beautiful. A wonderful, infinite world is open to him, and it brings me great joy.

Seeing my child surpass me in something is really what it’s all about. It is just the first of many aspects of life that he will transcend my abilities and excel as the person he is—someone who is blessed by God to have an array of gifts and talents all his own. Seeing that blossom for anyone is fascinating, but when it’s my own kid, it’s enthralling.

Though right now he is still every bit a ten-year-old boy who giggles at farts and drives me crazy with his lack of focus, when I hear him play, I know that there is so much more in store for him.

 

sculpture

 

One day…I will no longer need to remind him to wipe the peanut butter off of his face.

Lord willing, I will be around to look back and recall this time with great fondness—much the way I do now when I think about his first steps or his chubby baby cheeks. I need to cherish it all because I can see that time is marching on with determination.

Some days it’s harder for me than others to remember to embrace the joys of the age while striving to equip for the future, but I am grateful for it all.

What a wonderful journey I get to be a part of. I need to keep that in mind when the crumbs are flying, the homework assignment is missing, and I am telling him for the 17th time to get into the shower.

Maybe I should just make him play a song for me. That might just do the trick.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

PS–Our world would be so incomplete and sad without the beauty of the arts to enrich our lives and help us to express ourselves in ways that science alone cannot. We need to fight for all kids to learn, experience, and grow in the arts. Please support art programs in public schools!

PPS–This is the 100th post of The Juggle Struggle. Thank you for coming along with me on this journey! Whether you are a first time reader or a long-time subscriber or follower, I greatly appreciate your taking some of your precious time to read my words…it means the world to me. And I hope you find it worth sticking around for more!

The “Yo” Man

hourglassI’m never enough. Each day passes and I feel I have not been enough in any aspect of my life. I could have done more as mother, wife, friend, daughter, sister, worker, writer…even pet owner.

Even though my days are consumed with doing, I feel like I should have done more. The “shoulds” are never-ending.

I’m thinking you might be nodding your head in understanding.

Life can be overwhelming—some days more so than others. But it is during those overwhelming times that I try hard to step outside myself and remember that just a little can go a long way.

 

Moments count. They matter. In fact, they are often what matter most.

 

When I remember my dad, lots of memories swirl in my head, but there are these little things that come to mind and mean so much more than one might take at face value.

My dad was the “yo” man. This was a greeting that he used…and one that I still use to this day. It was just a part of who he was. But my fondest memory of his use of this word was a little something that he did that my sister and I found hilarious.

We would be in the car driving with the windows down and my dad would call out “Yo!” to some unsuspecting person walking down the street, and then we would all look innocent like we didn’t say anything. The person would look all around like “who’s calling me?!” and we would just look straight ahead. Oh, my, that sent us into major giggle fits. It was silly. And small. And something that is a loving memory of the goofball that my dad could be.

Maybe we were on our way to run errands that might have taken up a great deal of our day—but it was the “yo” man that stuck with me. Not the errands.

 

driving

 

Joy in the twinkling of a moment.

We often put a lot of pressure on ourselves to carve out experiences for our kids that are momentous in a big way…when it’s often the little ways that stick around.

A few years ago we were fortunate enough to travel with some friends to Florida and go to Walt Disney World. It was a great trip and we made lots of wonderful memories, but recently when my son wrote a story about it for school, the thing that was his most powerful memory was his finding a frog, picking it up, and learning that it was petrified dead.

The Magic Kingdom? Oh, yes…we had a blast. Beach and pool time? You bet. And while he remembers all of that with a smile, his face lights up when he talks about that damn frog.

 

frog kingdom

 

And while the “big trips” of life should happen for sure, they simply can’t be a measure of our success in how we care and provide for our loved ones.

As a mom, sometimes it’s taking twenty minutes to shoot a game of Horse in the driveway, or snuggling during a Full House rerun, or even making lunch together. As a wife, sometimes it’s making sure to carve out a few minutes of real “face time” or watching our favorite TV show late at night after the rest of the world has gone to bed. As a friend, sometimes it’s texting a simple “how you?” to let them know you are thinking about them at whatever hour of the day.

 

??????????????????????????

 

That’s what I need to remember when I am in the swirl of a day that is getting away from me. A day where nothing is working the way it should. A day where my ToDo list seems to grow like the plant in “Little Shop of Horrors.” A day where I look at the clock and realize I’m way behind schedule. A day where I feel I have let everyone down once again.

Stop.

And take a moment.

To be the “yo” woman I know I can be.

Just maybe she’s enough after all.

 

ToDo Graphic2

Trusting in Tomorrow’s Manna

manna

 

I’ve always been fascinated by the story of God’s provision of manna and quail for the Israelites in the desert. Learning about it as a child, I wondered what it would be like to live on “honey wafers” for forty years. And was the quail ready to eat? Or did they have to kill the poor birds first?

But the message behind it was clear: God provides. Listen to his instructions. Don’t deviate, or you’ll end up with maggots in your jar.

If you’re not familiar with this Bible story, God instructs his people to trust that he will provide daily food for them while they are wandering in the desert. They should only take what they need for the day (and double the day before the Sabbath so they can rest). Each morning was manna (carbs!), and every evening was quail (protein!) For those who took too much, they saw their stash turn rotten.

Take what you need and no more. You will have plenty, and there will be more tomorrow.

As a control freak with an anxiety disorder, I’m pretty sure I would have found out about the maggot deal first hand.

I so would have wanted to gather up extra manna and quail so that I could rest assured that tomorrow was taken care of. It makes total sense to someone with control issues. Why would I leave extra manna on the ground when it’s right there to collect? It’ll go to waste…who wants waste? What if I’m unable to get out there tomorrow and get my share? I better gather up some more…

For me, this is a continual life struggle:

Trusting in tomorrow’s manna.

Today’s manna is right before me, but…what about tomorrow?

 

BREAD

 

As my family is in the early stages of a new life chapter with my husband starting his own business, boy do I wish I could see tomorrow’s manna.

But that’s just it. I don’t get to see it—I have to trust in that which I cannot see.

Let’s just say I’m not always a natural at this.

I’ve had this lesson played out for me so many times it’s ridiculous. I am so grateful God is patient with me. I picture him just shaking his head with a wry smile that I am again trying to scoop up extra manna. “There she goes again…That girl is a knucklehead. I love her, but…man, she’s a knucklehead.”

It’s hard for me not to worry about tomorrow when I am me—and especially as a mom and wife. But that is exactly what we are continually reminded to do. Period.

And while there is the physical provision of life, there is also the spiritual provision that is promised, too. I find that when I am caught up in the worry of the “physical manna” that my “spiritual manna” suffers more, and the irony is that whenever I make it a point to gather the spiritual, the physical feels bolstered, too. You’d think I would remember the order of priority, right? Knucklehead alert.

 

Bible

 

It often feels like a battle of multiple personalities. On the one hand, I know to trust. And on the other, I trust that I need to know. One day will feel calm and secure in the belief that the manna will be there every day until we reach the Promised Land. The next day I might be awash with anxiety for what tomorrow may—or may not—bring.

Thankfully, one thing I have absolutely unwavering faith about is that God loves knuckleheads. This bodes very well for me. On the days where I find myself scrambling for more manna than I should, I know I am forgiven.

And as a continual work in progress, I am grateful to see that through this past chapter of life challenges I have found myself growing in trust of tomorrow’s manna. Maybe it’s just exhaustion that is helping me say “enough” or maybe I’m finally catching on. Whatever the reason, I have a weathered sense that tomorrow when I wake there will be plenty to fill my jar.

Plenty and just enough—the way God intended.

Lessons from a Failed Tube Top Experiment – My Messy Beautiful

messy-beautiful-450b

 

If you have found your way here through Momastery’s Messy, Beautiful Warrior Project, WELCOME! I hope you enjoy this warrior’s messy, beautiful story today!

 

KEEP CALM TUBE TOPS

 

I’m not a tube top woman. Trust me. Few things in life—scratch that—one thing in life would ever get me to wear one. And let’s just say that experience offered quite the surprise insight.

As a half-Italian kid growing up in the 70s and 80s, I didn’t give much thought to whether or not I had a tan. When it was summer I was outside, and therefore, tan. Period. (Sunscreen wasn’t even around, so don’t give me a hard time.) It wasn’t until the summer of my wedding that I ever thought twice about tanning or tan lines.

My wedding was in late July, but early that summer I spent a long afternoon in the sun in my typical careless manner…wearing a tank top. I came home to distinct tan lines across my shoulders, and then it dawned on me: my wedding gown was strapless. Uh-oh.

What to do? Suddenly this girl who never paid attention to sun exposure was in overdrive to get the white from underneath the straps caught up to the new darker tone. This is not so easy to do. I took every moment I could to lay out (ack!) and try to have the color even out.

Never one to like just lying in the sun and baking, I decided to take drastic measures. I bought a tube top (aka bandeau) that I could wear and “be active” in—but only hidden in the backyard. These things are not what I would term “secure” attire. I found myself frequently hiking the slippery devil back into place and gingerly getting my work done.

As the handyman for my mom’s house since my dad died, I had a pretty wide range of abilities in getting tasks done, and one afternoon I needed to put new flashing on the roof of the shed. Not a problem, just climb up there and get to it. Let me tell, you, though—if you’ve never been up on an asphalt shingled roof, it’s not only hot, but the shingles have a rough, almost Velcro-like texture to them. So…there I was, splayed up on the roof, putting on some new flashing in my “tan-catch-up” wardrobe…

All was fine until the screwdriver decided to roll away from me and head toward the edge of the roof. I sprung up to grab for it, and…can you picture it?

As I shot up, my top didn’t. Gripped by the asphalt shingles, it stayed in place long enough for my left breast—let’s be real here—my left boob to pop out and peer over into the neighbor’s yard and all God’s creation.

Oh, the thoughts that passed through my mind in that brief moment. Thankfully, the neighbors were not in that part of the yard to see Lefty’s wide-eyed hello, but I was mortified.

And here comes the life lesson…are you ready? When your boob pops out, you just need to tuck it back in and get on with your business.

In that moment of mortification, I realized that that was all I could do. That and have a good laugh. I must have been one ridiculous site—the Tube Top Roofer.

But I didn’t give up and climb down—I finished the job, tube top and all (though I made sure there would be no more rolling tools to chase).

After that, I assessed how crazy I was in my attempts to solve my tan line problem and lightened up (pun so intended). By then the distinctness of the lines had lessened and it wasn’t quite as noticeable, but I was also done caring so much about it. The Tube Top Roofer retired.

My wedding day came, and even though the faded tan lines were there, I don’t think too many people noticed. At least no one came up to me and said, “You look beautiful—too bad about the tan lines, though.”

 

tan lines with text
Ah, the late 90s…

 

Sometimes it takes a boob popping out to put things in perspective. And sometimes it takes tucking a boob back in to remind me that I am one resilient woman, and it would take so much more to get me off of that metaphorical roof.

My life is a continual reminder that my plan does not equal reality—that my schedule is not THE schedule…and that real strength comes from adapting and making the best of what is indeed reality, rather than lamenting how things didn’t go “my” way.

Errant tan lines happen. Boobs pop out. But weddings happen, and even honeymoons do, too.

 

 

And then it is back to making a life and rolling with the changes—and tucking boobs back in and getting on with the business of living.

This essay and I are part of the Messy, Beautiful Warrior Project — To learn more and join us, CLICK HERE! And to learn about the New York Times Bestselling Memoir Carry On Warrior: The Power of Embracing Your Messy, Beautiful Life, just released in paperback, CLICK HERE!

PS—I hope you enjoyed this post. If you did, you may also like where I write about my Beautifully Broken self. It was inspired by Glennon Doyle Melton’s series on Sacred Scared.

Beyond the Status Line

Beyone the Status LineDo Facebook status lines ever pop up in your head? Or maybe you have something cross your mind and think, “Hey, that would make a good tweet”?

Just like television news helped our attention spans shrink down to “sound bites,” it looks like our love of social media is training our brains to share in 140 character life snippets. Or at least that’s what we frequently present to the world.

 

Oh, but there’s so much more…right?

Everyone’s got a story…and it’s a helluva lot richer than any Facebook status, Instagram filtered photo, or even series of tweets can do justice to. Don’t get me wrong—I love “the Facebook” and “the Twitter”—but we must not fool ourselves into thinking we know people through these mediums. We can know more about them but not truly know them.

I’ve written before about how social media filters our lives, but I want to go beyond that here.

Beyond the status line.

“Real” life offers us a chance to look people in the eye and ask them how they are…but often it goes something like this:

 

“Hey, how are you?”
“Fine. How ‘bout yourself?”
“Pretty good. You have a good one.”
“Yeah, you, too.”
And…scene.

 

Maybe that’s why so many of us love Facebook—I have to admit that in the years I’ve been on it, I’ve never seen a status that says, “Today I’m fine.” No…people typically share a specific something, be it a fun moment of the day or a frustration or where they are enjoying a meal…We get a glimpse into a detail of their lives.

But it is a glimpse—and a crafted one at that.

 

Here's a little something I shared a while back.
Here’s a little something I shared a while back.

 

 

What is the real story? Beyond the “I’m fines” and the pictures of spring break excursions lurks…real life.

I’m a big fan of real life. It’s messy and chaotic and often quite hard.

But it’s real.

In between getting the work done one night at one of my part-time jobs, I learned about a single dad’s journey to take care of his daughter, a family’s anguish over having to make a choice about life support for a loved one, a man struggling to be a good role model to his seven kids, a young woman trying to find her way in life, and a friend’s hospital stay.

And I wasn’t pretending to be Barbara Walters by asking probing questions—I just paid attention and listened.

Obviously, each and every one of their stories helped me to know them better. To understand that their lives have complications and challenges that, while they may not be similar to mine, are something that I can connect with and share in. We talked beyond the status line.

While I may not have that many stories shared with me every day, it does amaze me how much I can learn about someone just by being interested and listening.

Everyone has a story…a life…that is layered and multi-faceted and…theirs. And we need to remember that when it may seem like others are skipping through life without a care, leaving us feeling like “they” have their acts together and “we” don’t.

Life is hard. It can be downright exhausting, overwhelming, and scary. And while some may seem to have it “easier” or “better” than others, life isn’t supposed to be a competition, is it?

I’ve never understood the joy some people have over seeing a Justin Bieber or a Lindsay Lohan struggle or fail. Someone’s downfall doesn’t inherently raise anyone else up. Why the delight? I have no idea what it must be like to be so famous, but I bet it isn’t as awesome as many people assume. At least I know my friends like me for who I am (or more accurately in spite of that) and not what I can do for them. What must it be like to never know if people love you just because you’re you? I bet it’s damn hard.

Maybe that grass is greener…and maybe not.

Everyone’s grass can be green…or brown…or trampled on from time to time. Everyone’s grass needs nurturing. Everyone’s grass thrives with some care and watering and weeding.

 

greener

 

We should rejoice not only in our own green grass, but the rest of the world’s rolling green lawns, too. I mean, why not? Doesn’t it just make for a more beautiful world?

But I digress. (Now that most of the snow is gone (for now…trust me, I’m not taking it for granted) I guess my mind is stuck on the green of spring!)

Sometimes the “I’m fines” are all we’re up to offering, I know. I totally get that. While I’ve always been a pretty good ear for others to bend, I’m but a youngster in the world of vulnerability. It’s not easy—but I am learning that it is critical in truly connecting with those I love, so I’m working on it.

But some days even 140 characters is more than I want to share.

I guess that what I aim to encourage here is that we remember that what we see in the world around us probably isn’t the full story…and the full story is worth knowing.

That beyond the succinct status lines of life, the full story can lead us to understand that we are not alone in this world. That while our blessings and challenges may be different, we still share in them…and can encourage one another…and lift one another up.

And that makes the grass greener for the whole wide world.