5 Phrases They NEED To Hear (But Often Don’t!)

No matter what you do, I won’t give up on you.

To me, it’s hard to believe that my students would ever think that I would give up on them—but when I really think about it, I can think of plenty of adults that I looked up to and trusted who did give up on me. Some of the adults I looked up to most in high school stopped talking to me entirely—I mean, wouldn’t even acknowledge me at graduation—after a silly prank I pulled as a senior. I was so devastated that it took years for me to get over that rejection.

Adults who influence for a weekend, a few months, or even a year are a dime a dozen. People who are passionate about students, invested in them in the long run, and who are willing to love fiercely—even when those kids they love so much screw up—are a rare breed.

But they’re life changers, I think—and I’ve been privileged to work with many of them in the last few years. They are truly shaping the entire future of the kids they’re invested in, and allowing God to literally speak through them to these kids—and as a program director, there’s nothing more inspiring than that.

I expect more from you.

As strange as it sounds, it was an epiphany to me when I first realized that I could set my own expectations and standards for my students. And believe me, up until that point, it was my biggest struggle in ministry. I used to think to myself, “How can I expect things out of kids when they aren’t given the same standards at home? Isn’t that unfair? Just because I was raised with high standards doesn’t mean that I should impose that on other people’s kids—right?”

In the real world, though, I quickly realized that kids need standards. Everything they do, in fact, is an attempt to find out where I stand on every issue. And, their constant nagging is simply a way to find out how firmly I stand on things.

Kids—especially middle schoolers—are adaptable. They quickly figure out what adults expect a lot out of them, and respect those adults in their lives much more than those who don’t expect anything out of them at all.

My students would likely all tell you that I have high standards, and that I expect a lot out of them. And, several of them would probably be able to tell you when I’ve had a stern but loving talk with them about how I do expect more from them as young Christians. I’ve always been upfront with my kids, clearly telling them that if I catch them swearing on Facebook, for instance, I’ll call them on it. And I do. That’s my standard—and kids respect that.

In fact, they strive to live up to it. Within my standards, too, I always strive to teach students life skills. To me, everything is a learning opportunity—a chance for growth. For instance, I’ve demanded that every young man remove his hat while praying. Unnecessary? Maybe. But a teachable moment about the respect and reverence we should have towards our Creator? Definitely.

It’s ok to wrestle with God.

The first time I ever said this to a group of kids, it was when I was a college student stepping in at the last-minute to lead a weekend retreat with a bunch of middle schoolers. I hardly knew the kids, but connected with them well. So well, in fact, that we ended up cramming all 11 of us into a hotel room that night to talk about the day.

As the kids talked, I began to notice a common thread—they were all wrestling with doubts about God, but skirting around the issue. It was like they just couldn’t admit that they did have those thoughts.

When I finally blurted out, “You guys are human! You’re grabbing onto your own faith and understanding it as teenagers now, stepping away from the faith that your parents have thus far raised you in—you should have doubts and be wrestling with these issues if you’re actually thinking about this stuff seriously!”, a sigh of relief literally went through the room.

A whole new, deeper level of conversation started—one that went beyond the “right answers” to brutal honesty that actually impacted these kids. I’ve moved half a country away from these particular kids, but they still remember that night and talk about it with their youth pastor often.

I think the story of Jacob wrestling with God is one that all teenagers need to hear. They need to be told that they’re not going to hell just because they’re questioning and wondering. We’re all sinful, imperfect people, and we all experience doubts from time to time—but how crafty is Satan, to sneak in there and pry these kids away from their faith entirely by convincing them that their questions about God make them unworthy of His love?

(Answer: very crafty!)

Sometimes I think that maybe my only purpose for being on this earth is to comfort those kids who are struggling so painfully with this issue–and have been stressed and guilty and overcome with shame for years because no one’s ever told them this before.

Because, at the end of their questions and doubts, stands a God who outlasts every query.

You can trust me–really.

People constantly open up to me. I don’t know if that means I’m a nosy person, a good listener, or just have a knack for being approachable…but whatever it is, it happens all the time. I’ve been in grocery stores, talking to random people, and have had them telling me their life stories. And usually, people confide in me so deeply that at some point, they suddenly reel back and say, “Oh my goodness! You can’t ever tell anyone else that I said that!”

Kids, especially, tell me all sorts of things they don’t want others to know. I’m more trustworthy than their peers, I suppose—but still close enough to them that I’m not a total stranger. They know that I won’t promise them blind trust—I would have to seek professional help and connect with their parents if I found out that they were severely depressed, anorexic, or suicidal, for instance.

But what they constantly want to know is how trustworthy I am with their day-to-day confessions. I need to remind them that I do keep my mouth shut—and that I would always inform them if I ever were to share anything confidential with anyone else.

I don’t like your behavior, but I still love you.

I learned this little nugget as a resident assistant in college. It was simply incredible what a difference it made to the students I was disciplining—keep in mind, those students were my peers.

You learn fast how to avoid making an entire student body angry with you when you bust up one of the biggest sophomore parties of the year, believe me.

Explaining to people that while I didn’t like their behavior or the choices they made but I still cared about and wanted a relationship with them was the dealmaker. It seems like an almost unnecessary thing to say–but simply saying it makes all the difference in the world. And it does make a difference to kids, too, on the occasion that I do need to discipline them.

Teens Say the Darndest Things…

I’ve spent quite a bit of time with my teens in the last few weeks, savoring the  sweet dregs of last-minute freedom before school starts tomorrow.

Yep. I’m pretty much as bummed as they are. No more spontaneous trips for ice cream and snow cones, no more Saturdays at Six Flags, no more trips to the mall on lazy Sunday afternoons, no more surprise fake mustaches showing up in hidden spots all over my car after giving the kids money to buy vending machine goodies, and no more random kids jogging to my office on a 101 degree day to just “hang out” with me.

One parent asked me (in half seriousness, I think) if I wanted to sign the adoption papers to take custody of her son. I think she was surprised when I readily agreed.

Sure. Skip the baby part. I’ll go from being childless to having a 14-year-old overnight. Sounds great to me.

I’ve been keeping a mental log of the memorable things I’ve heard come out of these kids’ mouths over the last week or so, just so I can either laugh uproariously about them in the privacy of my own home or ponder their sweetness later on. So here, for your pleasure, are a couple of the stand outs that these kids have said to me in the last week:

#1.”Cassie, I really can’t figure out how old you actually are. You just seem so much like you’re totally my age.”

Why I Like It: I still feel like I’m their age–just wiser and with a better sense of fashion than my 14-year-old self. Oh, and a college degree and a ring on my finger, too. I’ve realized that because I can just hang with these kids and live my life with them, side-by-side, they don’t see me as an adult from Planet Lame. And, because of that, they trust me. So I hear the inside scoop–on everything. And yes, I mean everything.

#2. “It’s hard being Cassie Moore sometimes, isn’t it?”

Why I Like It: Working with teens is no job for those who only desire to be popular and well-liked all the time, I’ve discovered. There have been plenty of times where I’ve had to put my foot down and discipline kids. No, I don’t like being the Bad Guy–and that’s exactly what was happening when one of my younger students made this comment to me. In the course of one morning, he saw me balancing the challenging tension of having fun, connecting with students and leaders, and reigning in the unruly troublemakers. I guess the demands of my job that day looked pretty darn unappealing to this poor, innocent youngster.

#3. “I’ve prayed for you, every single night for the last two years.”

Why I Like It: As I watched my 44 students walk across the stage a few weekends ago to be confirmed, I realized that I had prayed for each one of them by name dozens of times–some of them, likely hundreds of times. I had tears in my eyes through both confirmation services, just thinking about how much I truly care for each one of these kids–and most of them don’t even know how much I care about them. To know that one of my dear students was doing the same thing in praying so faithfully for me, unbeknownst to me, gave me chills.

#4. “I think you’ve become my second mom…sooo, you wouldn’t mind buying me a snow cone now, right Mom?”

Why I Like It: One of my students joked last week that he was going to change my name in his cell phone  to “Mom 2″, because I always take “such good care of him”. I’ve bought this kid everything from shoes to dinner, so sometimes I do feel like his mother. I’m grateful that my students know I care for them–that I’m not just going to temporarily plug into their lives and then unplug as soon as the next wave of students comes through my program. I’m invested in them for the long haul, as a good mother would be.

#5. “You know slavery is illegal in the United States now, right?”

Why I Like It: Working with teenagers is challenging–usually it feels like you’re working in the complete dark, because you so rarely see the results of your investment. But, every once in a while, you get a little glimmer of the seeds you’ve sown growing and producing fruit. Last weekend, I spent an entire day at a theme park with twelve teenagers and three other adults, enduring sticky humidity and sore feet and a profusion of “your momma” jokes. At the end of the night, one of my students asked me how he could help me because I was “always helping him”. When I jokingly told him that I was always swamped at work in the summer and that I needed some “slaves” to help me file papers and organize the building, he committed to coming in the next day and working for me. Despite my pleas to not give up a precious last day of freedom before school started, he recruited a friend and spent eight long hours assisting me, tirelessly working without breaks. Their work ethic so clearly revealed the power of the Holy Spirit working in them that it gave me goosebumps–and reminded me that while working with teens is definitely harder than herding cats, it’s infinitely more rewarding (even when you only get an occasional sliver of the results).

#6. “I want to be hanging out with you in 30 years.”

Why I Like It: I want to be hanging out with them in thirty years, too. A few months ago, two of the girls in my small group confided that they had been utterly crushed one afternoon last year, as they realized how insignificant they probably were in my life. In their minds, I was going to leave this church someday and completely forget about them. As they laughingly told me, “You matter too much to us–you’ve changed our lives–but we thought we were going to be nothing to you, that you wouldn’t even remember our names after you left.”  Honestly, I went home and cried over this. I know exactly what they were feeling–I’ve felt it, too. There have been people I’ve connected with and looked up to, and I doubt they can even remember me now. That hurts. But, the fact that these girls know that I won’t do that to them–that they’ve changed my life just as much–is something I’m grateful for. And the reality that they want to be involved in the rest of my life is something that causes me to fall to my knees in thankfulness.

The Culmination of My Weird Week: Getting Hit By A Shopping Cart

It started last Sunday evening, as I stepped outside my apartment doorstep on a balmy evening to take the dogs out at midnight before I hit the hay.

I took one step before I landed right on top of it.

A folder.

Nestled right outside my front door.

In this neat, color-coded file folder was a whole collection of assignments from one of the kids in my confirmation small group.

Apparently, my dear little friend Ashley had been too embarrassed to knock on my door that late at night–so she just ditched her folder on my welcome mat without saying a word to me.

All I could think about was a movie I saw one time, in which a disgruntled ex-boyfriend kills his girlfriend’s dog and leaves the poor puppy’s head on her front stoop to terrify her.

I don’t think that was the kind of message Ashley was trying to send to me, don’t worry. But of all the things to have left on my welcome mat, I never expected to see homework assignments there. Sort’ve like my work truly followed me home.

Hm. Strike one on the Weekly Weirdness scale of my life.

Strike two followed swiftly after that–the very next evening, in fact.

I was preparing myself for a highly stressful week, so I had invited some of my ninth graders over to my apartment to watch a movie that evening. At the last minute, they all backed out on me, so I was left with a gloriously empty evening, stretching out in front of me–one filled with wasteful hours of eating dry Fruit Loops and watching “Criminal Minds” reruns while lounging in my pajamas.

Suddenly, my dreams of doing absolutely nothing were shattered by one forceful “bang-bang-BANG-BANG” on the door.

My first thought was, “That’s gotta be a neighbor. My ninth-grade students can’t drive yet–there’s no way I have to worry about them just showing up at my door randomly.”

I cracked open the door, and found out just how wrong I was.

Apparently, while my students can’t yet legally drive themselves to my house without any warning, their parents still can.

Within half an hour, I found myself managing the utter chaos of having five unruly teenagers goofing around in my apartment. I never really realized how many breakable things we own until I saw two of the biggest klutzes I’ve ever met handling these objects.

Hastily, I drove them to the only place I knew where they couldn’t break anything:

The church parking lot.

Bingo. Sometimes, it does pay to be a church worker.

Strike three was even weirder, as hard as that seems to believe. It’s a long story, but it involves a handful of kiddos eating a frozen french silk pie in my car, late at night. I still have the crumbs on my dashboard to prove that it actually happened–it wasn’t just a sleep-deprived hallucination.

Strike four occurred just yesterday, as I was at Walmart.

I know, I know…that place is a magnet for all things bizarre. You’re not phased by me telling you that something strange happened at Walmart.

In fact, Lady Gaga looks downright normal compared to some of the people I’ve seen at that store.

So it should come as no surprise to you that I actually got run over by a cart at Walmart yesterday.

Yep. Poor me, looking for thank-you cards for my confirmation leaders…I step around the corner cautiously, and get nailed by a suburban housewife looking for school supplies.

I kid you not. She rammed her cart right into me.

It's out to get me...

My eyes must’ve been as big as saucers as I backed away from the Killer Cart Lady, listening to her apologize profusely for her carelessness. I managed to squeak out, “Oh, no, it’s ok! I’m fine! Really!” before I practically sprinted over to another aisle to get away from her.

I think I was in shock that I actually managed to get hit by a shopping cart–especially considering that I had been peeking around the corner so carefully…a habit I’ve learned by watching other people almost get run over by these metal monsters.

I walked over to the scrapbooking supply aisle in a daze. I turned and stared at some stickers, and suddenly heard an ominous sound behind me.

I spun around, only to see the same lady–Killer Cart Lady–about to run over me again.

Like I’ve said many times: I can’t make this stuff up.

She dragged her eyes away from the display and locked eyes with me, startled. When she realized it was me again, she froze and screeched her cart to a stop. I literally backed away, palms up, to another aisle.

We didn’t say a word to each other. It was a mutual agreement that we’d never meet again in this fashion.

As I hastily left Walmart, I began to realize the truth:

I’m on someone’s hit list.

Come on–that has to be it. There’s simply no other explanation. Who almost gets run over by the same lady twice, other than someone who’s on a hit list?

Now, I just need to figure out why I’m on that list…and who else in nice, quiet, suburban Oakville is going to come at me this week…