The Big Chill is one of my favorite movies. A long forgotten oldie, but a goodie. One of those reunion movies of college friends. As a sidebar, it might actually be one of the best soundtracks, EVER.
As I steer my ever restless soul towards my childhood home, it is the abundant memories that capture my thoughts. I recently went on a medical mission trip to Myanmar. Travel begets travel begets travel. Strangely, it was different this time. On the 31 hour jaunt back to the United States, I could not push aside the feeling that I needed to get home. Traveling usually sends my thoughts into saving the world and living abroad. Not this time. I finished the book "When Helping Hurts" and felt the bitter truth of it wash over me. A handout is hurtful. A hand-up, on the other hand, lifesaving. How and why that translates into me returning to middle America, I don't quite know.
My return is far less exciting than any reunion tour. Sesame Street would probably get a better turn out. I am just someone new in town. A new face with a new car. People might try to place me. Who I belong to and where I have come from. When the sun sets, all thoughts of me have shuffled on to other topics. As they should.
I, on the other hand, feel somewhat stuck in this ethereal reality of past, present and future. Who I was, I am no longer. Who I am already seems to be morphing into my future self. Most athletic is only good for the yearbook, not the 25 year class reunion. Favorite teachers and back road music had their place in the life of long ago. Now, I struggle with how to address the educators from my youth. Mrs. Lett, Mrs. Trout, Ms. A., Mr. Johnson. I'm not sure I could ever call them Beth, Karla, Ann, or Greg. They had too much influence to be considered an acquaintance. Their opinions, I would still hold in high esteem. And the fact that high school students now have a whole new set of inspirational teachers, seems to put their status forever and always in my memory as icons in my life story. March 24th, 2018 was a big day for students. 'March for our lives' footage from across the US was being broadcast on TV. Kids are scared. When an alarm sounds in their school, it might very well be their worst nightmare. The reason why leaves my heart and mind in a state of pure anger. Every high school student knows the classmate that is a loner, left out, and the butt of all jokes. No one wants to admit that they picked on the "weird" kid, the future school shooter. Teachers don't fess up that they could've told you which child was in need of help. What would happen if they were wrong?
Worrying that a school shooting could occur on any given school day is enough to drive change in school security. But, it hasn't made as much of an impact as one would hope. It would not be easy to go against the instinct of self preservation when there's an active school shooter. Not going to lie, I have felt that I would storm the doors and take out a shooter if given a chance. I have looked in the eyes of my niece and nephew and considered the possibility that a school resource officer would be paralyzed by the gunfire and not enter and engage the shooter. I bristle at my own judgment of the person who didn't protect and serve. My jaw is still clenched at the thought of it. The ease of which I can imagine my life being fueled by the anger at that person for the loss of either or, God forbid both of these children, scares me. If it ever happens, please, someone make sure I never buy a gun.
These are the times that we live in. High school girls and boys wonder if their emotions, thoughts, and curiosities make them the opposite gender. The whisper in society tells them that they don't need to identify as the gender they were born with. The yelling of society seems to be saying that it is wrong for them to be identified as completely male or completely female. With sexuality being pushed onto third graders, I don't see the end of school shootings anytime in the near future. When did it become such an egregious state to question what a child is thinking? Are parents not supposed to be their shelter and guidance in a storm? Lovingly accepting what he or she is going through, walking along side them, and yet still setting boundaries? I have good friends who have in fact dealt with this. A son who feels like a girl. A niece who identifies as a man. I am not degrading their choices. I do not know what I would do if I were in their shoes. I honestly don't. As it it presented to me now, a woman without children or any real parenting experience, it is completely hypocritical of me to say this, but I've gotten this far, I can't pretend like I wouldn't have an inkling of the course of action I would take. I would love my child through and through. I would seek to understand and I would seek to guide the child into the realm of all possibilities. If one currently feels more feminine or masculine, than dissolving all gender bias would be my preference. Please, my love, exist as your perfect soul with the understanding that society, or better marketing and entertainment, weave these ideas of asexuality like spring rain clouds. My beloved, it is normal to feel like both a boy and a girl before puberty, during puberty, and even after. We are all called to find strength in the overwhelming abundance of God's duality. Enjoy your childhood, and the rest will figure itself out in due course.
Whatever the name of the generation is after the Millennial's, I just want to say you've got options that you don't need to feel forced to act on. Boy vs. Girl? How about young and happy? Let's strive to give you your best childhood.
My Almighty Father, Creator, and Savior- I pray for the peace of mind and spirit that comes with knowing oneself. May you bless each child and family struggling with this, a joyful heart and an accepting mind. Give us all grace through confusion, so that we may show grace to others through theirs. You are the author of our lives and what is good with You, is good with us. I pray this in the character and identity of Jesus Christ. Amen
As I steer my ever restless soul towards my childhood home, it is the abundant memories that capture my thoughts. I recently went on a medical mission trip to Myanmar. Travel begets travel begets travel. Strangely, it was different this time. On the 31 hour jaunt back to the United States, I could not push aside the feeling that I needed to get home. Traveling usually sends my thoughts into saving the world and living abroad. Not this time. I finished the book "When Helping Hurts" and felt the bitter truth of it wash over me. A handout is hurtful. A hand-up, on the other hand, lifesaving. How and why that translates into me returning to middle America, I don't quite know.
My return is far less exciting than any reunion tour. Sesame Street would probably get a better turn out. I am just someone new in town. A new face with a new car. People might try to place me. Who I belong to and where I have come from. When the sun sets, all thoughts of me have shuffled on to other topics. As they should.
I, on the other hand, feel somewhat stuck in this ethereal reality of past, present and future. Who I was, I am no longer. Who I am already seems to be morphing into my future self. Most athletic is only good for the yearbook, not the 25 year class reunion. Favorite teachers and back road music had their place in the life of long ago. Now, I struggle with how to address the educators from my youth. Mrs. Lett, Mrs. Trout, Ms. A., Mr. Johnson. I'm not sure I could ever call them Beth, Karla, Ann, or Greg. They had too much influence to be considered an acquaintance. Their opinions, I would still hold in high esteem. And the fact that high school students now have a whole new set of inspirational teachers, seems to put their status forever and always in my memory as icons in my life story. March 24th, 2018 was a big day for students. 'March for our lives' footage from across the US was being broadcast on TV. Kids are scared. When an alarm sounds in their school, it might very well be their worst nightmare. The reason why leaves my heart and mind in a state of pure anger. Every high school student knows the classmate that is a loner, left out, and the butt of all jokes. No one wants to admit that they picked on the "weird" kid, the future school shooter. Teachers don't fess up that they could've told you which child was in need of help. What would happen if they were wrong?
Worrying that a school shooting could occur on any given school day is enough to drive change in school security. But, it hasn't made as much of an impact as one would hope. It would not be easy to go against the instinct of self preservation when there's an active school shooter. Not going to lie, I have felt that I would storm the doors and take out a shooter if given a chance. I have looked in the eyes of my niece and nephew and considered the possibility that a school resource officer would be paralyzed by the gunfire and not enter and engage the shooter. I bristle at my own judgment of the person who didn't protect and serve. My jaw is still clenched at the thought of it. The ease of which I can imagine my life being fueled by the anger at that person for the loss of either or, God forbid both of these children, scares me. If it ever happens, please, someone make sure I never buy a gun.
These are the times that we live in. High school girls and boys wonder if their emotions, thoughts, and curiosities make them the opposite gender. The whisper in society tells them that they don't need to identify as the gender they were born with. The yelling of society seems to be saying that it is wrong for them to be identified as completely male or completely female. With sexuality being pushed onto third graders, I don't see the end of school shootings anytime in the near future. When did it become such an egregious state to question what a child is thinking? Are parents not supposed to be their shelter and guidance in a storm? Lovingly accepting what he or she is going through, walking along side them, and yet still setting boundaries? I have good friends who have in fact dealt with this. A son who feels like a girl. A niece who identifies as a man. I am not degrading their choices. I do not know what I would do if I were in their shoes. I honestly don't. As it it presented to me now, a woman without children or any real parenting experience, it is completely hypocritical of me to say this, but I've gotten this far, I can't pretend like I wouldn't have an inkling of the course of action I would take. I would love my child through and through. I would seek to understand and I would seek to guide the child into the realm of all possibilities. If one currently feels more feminine or masculine, than dissolving all gender bias would be my preference. Please, my love, exist as your perfect soul with the understanding that society, or better marketing and entertainment, weave these ideas of asexuality like spring rain clouds. My beloved, it is normal to feel like both a boy and a girl before puberty, during puberty, and even after. We are all called to find strength in the overwhelming abundance of God's duality. Enjoy your childhood, and the rest will figure itself out in due course.
Whatever the name of the generation is after the Millennial's, I just want to say you've got options that you don't need to feel forced to act on. Boy vs. Girl? How about young and happy? Let's strive to give you your best childhood.
My Almighty Father, Creator, and Savior- I pray for the peace of mind and spirit that comes with knowing oneself. May you bless each child and family struggling with this, a joyful heart and an accepting mind. Give us all grace through confusion, so that we may show grace to others through theirs. You are the author of our lives and what is good with You, is good with us. I pray this in the character and identity of Jesus Christ. Amen
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