The Children Are Watching

 

Friends, I think it’s time we sit down and have a chat. Maybe pour yourself a cup of coffee because I’d like this to be civil; maybe even light-hearted. The reality is we are long over due to say some things that need to be said.

There is a problem in our nation. We are not safe. WAIT! Before you turn away – this is not about guns. This is not about Democrats or Republicans or #metoo. This is about you and me and the generation of children watching us.

We have become an angry, rude bunch of people. We say things online we would never say to someone’s face. We scream and yell at our televisions and we watch “news” programs where people scream and yell.

The children are watching. They’re learning.

They are watching us shake our fists and scream profanity when we don’t agree with each other.

They are watching when we honk our horns at people in the car line at school.

They see us when we speed around the car stopped to let a child cross at a cross walk.

They hear the slander we utter under our breath about the family ahead of us in the grocery store check out.

They are listening when we gossip on our phones about the teen that got in trouble last weekend.

Our kids are paying attention and they are learning. That’s what kids do, you know. We like to joke and say, “Do as I say and not as I do” but it’s not a joke anymore. Our kids have learned from our behaviors and they are acting them out.

They act them out in the cafeteria when the boy ahead of them fumbles to pay for his lunch, dropping his quarters on the floor. They act them out in class when the girl next to them smells bad because there’s not a mom at home to teach her proper hygiene. They show what they’ve learned when they don’t go and sit by the lonely. They mimic our actions on the soccer field, the baseball diamond, the football field, the dance floor, the band room….everywhere they go.

Have you ever had one of those moments when you said something and thought, “Oh my word, I sound like my mother/father!”?

Our kids don’t even realize how much they sound like us. They are not old enough or mature enough to put it together yet but they do; they sound just like us.

So when we question how our nation has come to a place where kids could bully and ridicule and mock and kill, we need to take a long hard look in the mirror. If we want to be a community of kindness and love it has to start from within. We can’t say “those people” anymore. We have to say, “I will be the change.”

Listen, I get it. Some mornings are rough. Nothing goes according to plan, you are running late for work, you have bills piled up at home, and have no idea what you’re going to fix for dinner tonight. The stress of getting the kids to school with a mind load like that is immense. But honking at kids getting out of cars, speeding around vehicles letting teachers cross from the parking lot to the school sidewalk, flipping off parents you think aren’t going fast enough…it’s not okay.

I know know the cost of the private lessons and the time committed to make sure your kid is the best on the team. I know what’s involved in making sure they will stand out to college recruiters and coaches and directors. Yelling at the kid who isn’t “up to par” is not okay. Making fun of the ones who don’t run as fast, often fall down, play the wrong notes, miss the last step…it’s just mean.

I understand we are rushed in the grocery store. We have lists a mile long and we have to get dinner on the table and our kids to all their practices and lessons in the next two hours. But pretending you don’t know the mom you were home room mom with for three years is rude. It takes two seconds to smile and say hello. Being harsh with the checker because he’s not scanning fast enough isn’t acceptable.  Kindness takes very little time and it costs you nothing.

And the children are watching.

This is not written to shame and point fingers out at my community without pointing a finger back at myself. I have been guilty of heavy sighs and muttered comments. I have said snarky things about others in front of my kids. I’ve driven too fast in school zones and been inpatient in car line. This is not a you and yours problem – it’s an us problem.

Let’s start today with a deep breathe and a prayer. Let’s ask God to remind us of the grace and mercy he shows us every single day so that we might show grace and mercy to others. Let’s build each other up with kindness and smiles and gentle affirmations.

The children are watching.

The Waters of Judgement and Comparison

 

If one wanted to make a chart of Kingwood, Texas right now, it would be a pretty basic block.

Those who flooded.

Those who didn’t.

I am filled with both gratitude and sorrow to be in the “didn’t” column. I am, of course, grateful and thankful that my home was safe from the raging, muddy waters that rushed through homes without a care of what was destroyed. I am breathing a sigh of relief that my air conditioning works because September in Houston is not very different from August in Houston. It ain’t fall. And I’m blessed to have a refrigerator full of food and I do not have to rely on the kindness of strangers to bring sandwiches.

But I cry. I sob for my friends who are scraping mud and muck from their homes, tossing their favorite chair and mattress to the curb. I cry when I see their wedding pictures and baby pictures spread over the lawn in hopes of drying out. I cried over every load of laundry I did for people on my street who lost everything while I sat three doors down safe. Every casserole I’ve baked, every sheet of cookies, every pot of pasta I boiled has had my tears nearby because I don’t understand the ways of the water and how it decided to flow.

I have cried for my friends who had no insurance and for the ones who did but are fighting for payment. I have cried for my friends who have already been turned down by FEMA and for the ones who don’t know how to send their kids to school tomorrow when they don’t have a safe home to come to afterward. I’ve held hands and given hugs and prayed and baked. And baked. And baked.

But if we go back to the chart, I’ve noticed another way to block it. Among the people who flooded I have started to hear comparisons.

“How much water did you get? Well, I got…”

“Did you have flood insurance? I did.” or “I didn’t.”

“Have you hired a contractor yet? Who did you get?”

Monday night I sat with a friend over dinner, listening to her story, and she shared some of these responses with me. She’s over it. And we are a week in. I imagine there will soon be comparison on how fast homes were repaired.

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There are also comparisons among those who didn’t flood.

“Where did you serve today? I went to this place AND that place.”

“What have you given? You know they really need that at…”

“I organized this group to serve over there. What have you been up to? I haven’t seen you in any of the places I’ve been.”

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There is so much good going on out there. So much healing and so much help. People are giving of themselves in both blocks. Everyone wants to do their best.

So what if we all moved forward with the assumption that we are doing our best? What if we started offering grace to each other and worked under the assumption that every single one of us is doing the very best we can?

It’s a question Brene Brown poses in her book, “Rising Strong” and one that I have been wrestling with for the last week. Do I believe that about people on an average, normal, non-flooded Wednesday? Do I now that we are in the middle of the biggest disaster our community has ever faced? Do I offer grace to others because I believe they are doing the best I can?

I have to say that most of the time, I don’t. I am quick to monitor a situation and judge that someone has a lower capacity than me and therefore is unreliable. I am quick to judge that someone is selfish with their time, money, resources, etc. and therefore not useful to me.

And truth be told, I am even quicker to take grace away from myself because I am comparing my self to others and judging that I don’t measure up. That person is a harder worker than me and therefore I am a failure. Those people have more time, money, resources than me so I am basically useless.

The lack of grace we offer ourselves and others usually stems from some sort of shame we are holding onto; a lie we are believing about ourselves. It often stems from a wound we experienced long ago that never healed properly.

I’ve had to ask myself many times this week, “What would it take for me to believe that person is doing the best they can?”

I’ve also had to ask,”What would I have to stop I believing about myself that is keeping me from receiving grace? And is that belief what God would say about me?”

James 4:6-8 says,”He gives us more grace. That is why Scripture says: ‘God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble.’ Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded.”

James points out there is a very fine line between wise discernment and sinful judging. I have to ask myself, “which one am I doing?” before I let words flow from my mouth. I need to watch how I speak to others, but also how I speak to myself.

I know that God bases his judgement on truth. I also know that I rarely do. God alone knows the source of my mess. So I pray for healing and I pray for grace in such abundance that I can pour it over every person I meet – flooded or not flooded. I pray that I will fall deep into the flood waters of his goodness and drink it all in so I can bless others. And I pray that the eyes of my heart….all of ours….would be shielded from the lies of judgement and comparison.