​My 2nd son is so much like me. He is outgoing and fun. He is loud and a tad bit obnoxious. He loves life and he loves people. Mason doesn’t walk into a room…he charges (literally). I can’t tell you how many times I have to tell him to slow down, quiet down, or bring it down. Typically, my sentences in public end in “down.” Sometimes he listens.

He has some really great friends. His relationships have changed over the years; these transitions have been hard because Mason is the kind of kid who makes a friend for life. He is fiercely loyal…like his dad. I love this about him, but sometimes I want to protect him from his own loyalty.

This past week I was in the school during lunches and I noticed he wasn’t sitting with the same friend that he has shared lunch with for years. After school, I asked him about it and he matter-of-factly informed me that his friend had been invited to the “Cool Table.” I asked why he didn’t move with him. He replied, “You have to be invited and I am not cool like that. I mean, I am cool...just not cool like that.”

Ugh. Middle School!

He is right. At every school event, I notice that my kids stand out. Not totally outward like you would run from them…just not like the other kids. Both of my older boys have spent most of their school years being told that they are the "Teacher’s Pet." In truth, they are. When teachers talk to me about my kids, they almost always start with, “Your son (daughter) is such a nice kid.” Yes, nice is not considered cool…until “nice” becomes the one everyone wants to be with.

My kids are not "world wise."
My kids don’t see labels…on clothes or people.
My kids don’t see rich or poor.
My kids don’t see black or white.
My kids are not politically correct.
My kids are kind.

And this makes them the COOLEST.

It is hard not to put on my kids how I felt growing up. I never felt like I fit in. I spent most of my teen years between groups. I was a cheerleader, then I wasn’t. I was an "A" student, then I wasn’t. I was a good girl, then I wasn’t. Either way…I was insecure and lonely.

This isn’t how my kids feel. My kids know they aren’t “cool like that” and they are good. I love this about them. They aren’t letting other kids define how they feel about themselves. They love life. The love people. They love their friends. They love Jesus. For a mom, it doesn’t get cooler than that.

A few years ago, my son was in a wedding for a young couple in our church. This couple had met in youth group when they were teens. The majority of their friends and wedding party came from the same youth group. This group of friends loved each other. They all had different personalities and talents. It was obvious to every onlooker that these young adults had grown up loving each other.

I told Philip that night after the wedding that this is what I wanted for my kids. I don’t care if they have tons of friends, I just want them to have the kind of friends who are loyal and committed. The kind of friends who won’t move to the “Cool Table” because their friend wasn’t invited.

This past week, I realized that this is what my kids have been given. Each has a group of loyal, good friends. These are friends who openly appreciate each other and say kind words. They are the nice kids and they have found each other. It wasn’t something I had to force or push, it just naturally happened.

I told my son this week that he could sit at my table any day because really, I am the cool table…just 30 years later. I am outgoing and fun. I am loud and a tad bit obnoxious. I love life and I love people. I don’t walk into a room…I charge (literally).

I know all of my kids will have to learn to navigate relationships in ways that work for them. For me, the challenge is trusting that God will surround each one of them with people who will appreciate them for how they were designed. This may not make them “cool”, but it will make them awesome.

I am forever their biggest fan.

​I sat across from her desk while she expressed her frustration. She was missing something and her heart was breaking. As she talked, I realized I couldn't fix her problem. For a fixer, I was at a loss for words and eventually, her family found another church home.

Her complaint...

She wanted relationships with older women.

The problem...

The older women of our church had removed themselves and formed an exclusive Bible study just for them.

Their reasoning...

They were done "living it out." They had raised their kids, fought with their spouses, survived cancer, lost best friends, watched their children walk away, watched them return, saw the hand of God move, survived heartaches and overcame hardships...and they didn't want to talk about it anymore. They didn't want to talk about the small stuff. They wanted to talk about Jesus...and everything wrong with the church and everyone else. 

They closed themselves away because they felt like they deserved it. They had run their race and they wanted to enjoy the fruit of their labor. ALONE.

In the meantime, the younger women were yearning for their wisdom and their truths. Many had either lost their own mothers or had moved miles away from home and they were missing something. They were missing someone.

I asked the leader of this exclusive Bible study group if they would consider joining the church studies. I told them how much the younger women wanted relationships with older, wiser women. They said "No."

Thankfully, God started adding older women to the church who didn't have that point of view and they started coming to the studies. When they told their stories...everyone listened. They cared for the younger women and mentored them in ways that only an experienced woman could. It was life changing.

Many are lonely.
Some feel disconnected.
Many believe they are not noticed.
Some feel unloved.

People are crying out for multi-generational relationships. To simplify it even more, people are looking to connect, to feel valued, and to be noticed. This isn't a church problem...it is a cultural one.

The hope found in our church families is often found in the relationships with people around us. As we share our struggles and our dreams, the people around us sharpen us, inspire us, and if needed...correct us. If any generation, young or old, separates themselves from the masses, we miss out on the fullness of what they offer.

Exclusive relationships isolate and limit our growth. God calls us to love people. He never said, "love only the people who are just like you."

One Sunday morning I noticed a group of young couples standing around a table in the cafe area. I needed to talk to one of them, so I decided to wait for their conversation to end. The thing is, their conversation never ended. Many people walked by them that morning...the young, the old, and the middle, but not one person in this young group noticed anyone around them. They stayed in their exclusive close circle, forgetting that the body of Christ is so much more than the people who are just like them.

When things like this happen, it isn't intentional. We see people we love and we walk to talk to them. We get in our groups and forget that God has called us to so much more. He has called us to love, but it isn't on our radar. We miss it. We miss the opportunity to connect with the generations around us. We miss the moments where we get to tell someone 40 years older than us that they are valued and appreciated.

My friend AJ often sits with my mom at church. He is young...and she is not (but she is still extremely cute). Do you know how often my mom mentions that he sits with her? EVERY TIME. She tells me how much she loves sitting next to him. It makes her feel valued. It makes her feel noticed.

We think it doesn't matter, but it does. Young, old, and somewhere in the middle...we can learn something from the people God has placed around us. We have to have eyes to see them. We have to have ears to hear their stories. We have to have the opportunity to speak encouraging sweet words to those around us.

Broken people are walking down the halls of our stores, schools, and churches. Hurting people are living in our neighborhoods and our communities. Lonely people are standing outside our circles waiting to be included...waiting to be seen.

When I look at the faces of my friends, both near and far, I see the span of generations. I have young friends I love and admire who are just starting their families. I have more mature friends who have raised their children and are enjoying their grandchildren and retirement. I need them all in my life. My younger friends keep me youthful and my older friends keep me grounded. The ones in the middle just make me laugh.

I read an article about Millennials (their label...not mine) and how the church needs to have strong young adult ministries in order to keep this generation connected. These groups are important. Our young adults need opportunities to be with people who are in similar places in their lives, BUT they also need the opportunity to grow alongside Baby Boomers and Gen Xers...who have been there and survived.

I don't want to miss out on what God has for me. I do love being around people. I am an extrovert by design and there isn't anything better than a good story that makes me feel. So for me, the perfect week includes a few good stories that either make me laugh or cry from a variety of sources and a variety of friends; friends from different generations...the young, the old, and the middle.

FIVE CHORES I HATE
​
1. Emptying the Dishwasher.

    I hate emptying the dishwasher. I always have and I don't plan on changing my mind anytime soon. As a child, it was my main chore. It seemed like there were always dishes to be put away. If I wanted to play outside, I had to empty the dishwasher first. If I wanted to watch T.V., I had to empty the dishwasher first. Now, if you ask my mom, she would probably say that I was most likely to find a way out of emptying the dishwasher but we all know...sometimes childhood memories can be a bit skewed.
     I know you may be wondering why my kids aren't putting them away? Yes, the explanation is that we run the dishwasher every night after everyone is in bed. The kitchen is clean every morning and so are the dishes that are sitting in my beautiful dishwasher waiting for my children's dirty hands to pull them out and put them away. Unfortunately, they go to school and the breakfast dishes pile up in the sink. I have 2 options, wait for the kids to return in the afternoon to empty the dishwasher or clean the kitchen so I can enjoy my coffee. I chose the latter because my coffee enjoyment is very important. 
     The next question you may ask is why don't you run the dishwasher after breakfast? Yes, that is a smart question and I have tried that...several times. Unfortunately, it always ends up back on the night shift and I end up on the dishwasher emptying morning shift.
     It is just another selfless act of motherhood which guarantees my crown will be bigger than Philip's in heaven.

2. Folding Whites.

   I really don't mind doing laundry. I would rather fold than empty the dishwasher if truth be told. But still...the socks! The white load has so many little things in it. Underwear, socks, T-shirts...it is a nightmare. It takes me twice as long to fold whites as it does any other load of laundry. I hate it.
     My friend Stacey told me once that Americans wear white socks. I never realized this before she said that. Now I think of Stacey every time I put on a pair of white socks. Sometimes I send her pictures.
     I believe Mothers across our beloved nation need to unite and ban the purchase of white socks. It could be an issue of national security and it would make my life just a little bit easier. For the record, my beloved husband wears blue socks. He is my soul mate.

3. Taking Out the Trash.

     I really am not one to scream, "That's not my job." except for the trash. I hate emptying the trash. I just don't think it is my job so all day long I push down the trash. Philip has a saying when he comes home from work, "A bag a day." I know I really shouldn't be like this, but unlike with the dishes in the sink, I don't have to look at the trash in order to enjoy my coffee. I can put something in the trash can and if it doesn't fit...I have a gift of making it fit. If I get really desperate, there is a trash can in the garage. I won't empty it. Sometimes when someone empties the trash can, the bag is stuck from too many pushes. I am not changing. I feel like everyone has to draw the line somewhere and I draw my line at the trash.

4. Changing the Sheets on the Top Bunk.

     Right after I broke my foot in November, our family had the privilege of entertaining lice—for the second time. One of the things you have to do to let these little fellows know you mean business is change and wash the sheets every few days. As I was standing on the ladder with my walking boot on my foot, I started crying. Right then and there I had to admit to myself and later to my family, I hate the bunk beds. I mean hate.
    I hate pulling everything off and having to bring it back up piece by piece in order to make it again. I hate that I have to sit on the bed and make it around me. It is the worst job ever...well, after emptying the trash but since I don't do that one, I really should put this as my number 1 hated chore.

5. Washing the Kitchen Floor.

     It probably isn't fair of me to put this one on the list. It really isn't washing the kitchen floor that I hate, but the fact that washing the floor puts a huge target on it for someone to spill something on it immediately after it is dry. IT HAPPENS EVERY TIME.
     I think it is a test of my love and patience for my children. I promised myself that I would not freak out on my kids if they spilled things. Growing up (another skewed childhood memory), I spilled stuff all the time. I spilled my food, my plates, my drinks...and my family started saying, "There she goes again." It seemed like the more they said this, the worse it got. I have one child like this and he is the one most like me. There are times he spills something and I just about lose my ever-loving mind over it, but I refuse the react. Our saying in our home is that it is just an accident and it cleans up. BUT SERIOUSLY....IT KILLS ME ON THE INSIDE.
    So, I will wash my floor and it probably won't look like I did. I have to walk away from this task with just a personal satisfaction of knowing that it is clean underneath the crumbs from breakfast, the sticky juice clinging to your socks or the food chunk you kick across the floor when you walk. That just sounds gross, but it is true.

THE CHORE I DESPISE

Cleaning the Toilets.

No explanation required.

​My 16th Anniversary of Being a Mom.