You’re Not Welcome Here

Oh, it’s you. It’s been awhile since you’ve poked your head around here. I can’t say that I’ve missed you. Actually, I greatly appreciate the time you spend away. It hasn’t quite been long enough.

I don’t love the way you make me feel ashamed of who I am, the way you remind me of every single flaw. I don’t like it when you pick the areas you know are most tender, and you push your finger there, like testing the soreness of a bruise. You know just where to touch to get the most response.

I know your voice, but it isn’t a welcome one. It doesn’t bring me pleasure. It’s a droning, grating sound that I can hear from anywhere in the house, anywhere in the world- like it follows me around from place to place. “You aren’t enough. You are terrible at this. You aren’t any good at that.” Poke after poke, you find every tender vulnerable spot, and you touch each one. Clearly enjoying the writhing that you cause.

But you don’t get to stay. Your voice isn’t the loudest; your words aren’t even entirely true. I’m not good at everything, but I am good. And the areas that trip me up, I don’t have to let them define me. And I surely don’t have to let YOU define me.

So I cry for a bit over the unkind things you say. I even believe them for awhile. But then I am reminded that I am so much more than how you see me. I am brave and strong and very loving. I am the daughter of a king; I am chosen and I am loved. The things you pick on me about are temporal; they might matter for awhile, but in the end, they don’t amount to much. But that’s what you want. You want to divert my attention from the eternal, from the meaningful and the powerful. I’ll admit, you had me for a bit. Held tight in your grasp, you sneaky devil.

But your time here is up. You’ll need to be moving on. I’ve got things to do and people to love and a Lord to serve. So, and I do mean to be rude as to not give you the impression you should return quickly, I just want to say, your time is up and you are not welcome here!!

Hum

On the precipice of a new school year, I feel myself experiencing an unfamiliar sensation. Sure, given that my son is beginning his senior year and my youngest begins her freshman year, there are bound to be some emotions. Anyone would consider that normal.

But, during a pandemic, when our old normal seems so far removed, I can’t say that the emotion is one I’m accustomed to the week before school begins. Generally I’m excited for my kids, feeling the hum of their bodies as they radiate energy and anticipate seeing their friends, meeting new teachers, trying new classes. But this year, there’s no hum coming from them.

I feel their question marks. I feel their uncertainty. I feel their sense of disappointment. They look forward to school because of the interactions with their peers and even their teachers. And this year, at least to start, they won’t have that. They “tolerate” the academics because they appreciate the social. Once the social is stripped away, it’s all just work.

Don’t get me wrong, I think that, given where we are right now, starting virtually is the best way to go. It’s everyone doing what they can to attempt to help make the best of a bad situation. There is no blame. There is no judgement. But, the struggle is real.

My senior will be fine. After all, he’s a senior. He’s done the bulk of the work at this point. He has enough past behind him that he’ll be okay taking the next step. Sure, he’s going to be sad to miss the “lasts” that high school Seniors generally cherish, but I think his perspective is such that he won’t be deeply effected. He knows it’s just a blip, so he is taking it in stride.

My freshman, well, that’s a different story. This is the beginning of laying a foundation that truly matters. This is when it truly counts- no more dry runs or practice swings. It’s game time.

And I’m not sure how best to support her. Now I think mine is the body that’s humming. But the hum is one of uncertainty and nervous energy. Of wanting to do my best and having zero idea what that even means or looks like. How do I guide in territory we’ve never been in before? And how do I create enough excitement, energy, or intrigue, (or “you have to do it whether you want to or not!!”) to get the ball rolling and keep it moving?

At least I know I’m not alone. Parents everywhere are probably experiencing the same kind of thing. Maybe with all the humming we’ll end up making a lovely tune!