The Poop-Talk Embargo and Its Fallout

We recently instituted a ban on the word "poop" - and all its variants - while eating meals. Naturally, our oldest had lots of questions to determine loopholes, because that is what she does. She's a negotiator, and even at age 5 she wants to determine all the gray areas. She's already learned that a rule can be bent or circumvented.

Since Bob and I do not have unlimited reserves of patience and creativity, we issued a plain statement that any use of the word would land the speaker in her/his room for a time out. (Side note: I may utter this word tonight just to get a break.)

It shouldn't have surprised us what happened next.

First, there was the immediate use of a synonym. We nipped that one in the bud, clarifying that the spirit of the law also applied.

Then there was the finger pointing. Because if we're told we can't do something, we will make it our mission to ferret out anyone else who is doing it.

I will not get into how we resolved this situation, nor provide a tidy 3-step how-to in addressing strong-willed kiddos. This isn't a parenting blog. No, this is about the basic human drive my pint-sized powerhouse was exhibiting: The drive toward maintaining power.

1. She did not want to be told what she could or couldn't do.
2. She wanted to find a way to do it without experiencing the consequences.
3. She wanted to control others' behavior since she felt powerless by our decree.

I thought about all the adults who create fancy ways to rationalize breaking laws and hurting others:

• When People of Color make demands that unfair systems and customs be addressed, and they receive from the dominant voices an embellished version of, "Don't tell us what to do!" 
• Perpetual misrepresentations of Sharia Law that are used to justify hateful words and actions against our Muslim neighbors. 
• All the prominent leaders who have attacked the LGBTQ community and then been exposed as being gay or bisexual themselves.

When we don't like being told how to behave, when we don't understand and embrace a rule or a request, we are pretty much guaranteed to rebel against it. This may be obvious (option #1 above), it may be subtle (#2), or it may be subterfuge (#3). But all these responses show a heart that is striving against instead of toward.

I don't mind my kids fighting back, as long as they are fighting with a good cause at heart. I want them to question and, when necessary, rebel against unjust practices and unethical authorities. And God as our Parent showed that desire as well when Jesus refused to let the religious leaders of His day preserve their power. He called them out on it (Matthew 23:13-36) and told His disciples to stand their ground (Matthew 10:16).

And the fact is that Bob and I had to put a blanket rule in place where a simple and flexible guideline could have existed. We had to be strict on the front end so we could make adjustments on the back end. If one of our kiddos misunderstood or slipped up, we would extend grace; if a time came that we needed to talk about feces for a science project or if a teacher's name happened to be Mr. Poop, we would remove the rule from our dinner table commandments. The rule was never meant to be a tyrant, but rather the symbol of a greater purpose: Showing respect and sound judgment. Which speaks to our primary family statute: Show love.

I guess that's really what all rules are. They're emblematic of what we should all strive for. If we want the best for others as well as ourselves, we'll naturally do what so many rules fundamental to societies explicitly tell us to do. We won't steal or lie or murder, we'll put others first and listen without interrupting with our own agendas. We'll avoid mentioning poop multiple times in every sentence we utter.

When things have gone off the rails, though, we need guidelines, and they may need to be firm at first. But we can't let a rule dictate our existence, nor should we spend all our time trying to find ways around it. If we discover we are doing one or both of those things, we need to ask ourselves if we believe in the reason why the rule exists at all.

Snowflake Vigil: A How-To for Grief and Young Ones

I mentioned in an earlier post that I may do a "snowflake vigil" with my kiddos, all under age 4, regarding the tragic mass shooting at Pulse, a gay club in Orlando. It's critical to start an ongoing conversation with them even now about loving others, respecting all, and advocacy. If we claim to love Jesus, whose heart was all about justice, we need to also claim verses like this one: 


Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves; ensure justice for those being crushed.
Proverbs 31:8 (NLT)

I talked with my twin 18-month-old sons first, holding a piece of pink paper (it was the only color I could find) and folding it into quadrants. I talked about how good love feels, and that love helps others. I said that someone had made a bad decision that had hurt a lot of people. Each person is made by God and important to Him, so they are important to us, too. 

If someone says, "I love God," and hates his brother, he is a liar; for the one who does not love his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen.
1 John 4:20 (NASB)

As I talked, I cut the paper. One of my boys even ripped a piece for me. I then opened it to show them the snowflake we had made, emphasizing again that each person is unique, and Mommy was sad today because these unique people were hurt by someone who was scared and did not show love toward others. "We won't let hate or fear in this house, okay?" They were squirming, so we said a prayer together for the families, and that God will help us to love and help others.

I did a snowflake with my almost-4-year-old daughter on her own, because I knew she'd want to take over the process. We talked about how it hurts when others don't like us or are mean. I repeated that everyone is created by God and loved by Him, and I told her some of the names of the people who "got hurt" by the person who made a bad decision. When I finished talking and praying with her, she wanted to make her own snowflake. We hung up all three snowflakes in our living room so we can point to them and talk about how everyone matters.

It was all very quick, but it established that we are a family who talks about things and how we can take action. It also gave me a chance to grieve these lives lost - and to let my kids see me care, because they need to know what that looks like.

Too Close to Define

You know that experience when you're so close to something you can't really say anything about it? When it's feels like you're trying to build something and discover you're using water instead of packing snow? When you're afraid a remark about it would only touch part and miss the whole?

I remember someone joking that if you need the definition of "psychology", you should [counterintuitively] ask the first-semester psych major, not the PhD clinician.

That is where I am right now: Too close to define.

I'm in the process of putting together an event called CAST (Coming Alive, Scheming Together) for women in the metro Phoenix area who are passionate for Christ. A friend asked who my demographic would be, and I couldn't come up with much more than, "Any woman who loves Jesus and is open to the movement of the Spirit."

Queue eye roll.

I admit it's vague, as are many of the goals attached to it. Every time I've tried to come up with measurable outcomes for CAST, it seems as if some cosmic gameboard shifts and the rules invert. For this strategic-planner, that is unacceptable. I like mission statements, I like five-year plans, and I like knowing what I'm asking people to sign up for.

This has been a humbling time of challenge for me, to say the least.

And yet I know it has been a project our loving Daddy has gifted to me, and I have no doubt He has his own plans for it, even if they won't fit in a binder with tabs and timelines.

Even though I'm way too close to it, I'm going to attempt to describe here what He put in my heart a few months ago. CAST is meant to be an event where multiple women present (speak, sing, or perform) on a common theme during the first hour, and in the second hour the participants meet with the presenters and each other to pray, discuss, and dream together how to use their own passions and gifts to take action. It's what we as women do all the time, but don't often have the encouragement to follow through on it. It's an opportunity to come alive, to exit our isolation and enter connection, to engage in conversations on social justice and the global church and personal growth and serving and leading and the heart of our Lord, to be transformed and then do some transforming to expand the Kingdom.

Because we as women are powerful when we join together. Our Daddy knows this. He longs for us to be the healers, the dreamers, the activists, the advocates, the creators, the defenders, the warriors He designed us to be, and to have each others' backs as sisters.

As my planning team - yes, team! He has taught me to bring on a team, not just do it myself, which is so appropriate for this event about joining together - encountered yet another obstacle to birthing this creation, I spent an evening poring over scripture. I was feeling discouraged after yet another major plot twist in our saga, and I needed to know He would be faithful. And then He allowed me to stumble across this:

~So here’s what I want you to do. When you gather for worship, each one of you be prepared with something that will be useful for all: Sing a hymn, teach a lesson, tell a story, lead a prayer, provide an insight... And no more than two or three speakers at a meeting, with the rest of you listening and taking it to heart. Take your turn, no one person taking over. Then each speaker gets a chance to say something special from God, and you all learn from each other. If you choose to speak, you’re also responsible for how and when you speak. When we worship the right way, God doesn’t stir us up into confusion; he brings us into harmony. This goes for all the churches—no exceptions.~
1 Corinthians 14:26, 29-33 (MSG)

Right. Between. The. Eyes.

To have this level of specificity without having encountered this passage anytime recently - that's the way the Spirit works, my friends! I'm still awestruck with a few lingering goosebumps.

So we press forward in faith and newfound obedience.

I find it a magnificent "coincidence" that my fast for Lent was from relying on my own resources, because there have been many times when I was so tempted to activate my superpowers to solve our problems. Of course, it wouldn't have worked anyway, but the decision to preemptively step aside and fully rely on Him and on others has taught me new discipline, trust, and interdependency.

As a result, when this is a success (by His standards, not mine), all the glory will be His. And that puts my parameter-craving psyche to rest.