On Being a “Yankee” in the Heart of Texas.

I’ve been called a “Yankee” many times since moving to Texas about 9 months ago.

A few weeks ago, I was called a Yankee 8 times in just a few days. I found  it slightly disconcerting to be so obviously an outsider in the state I now claim as my home. Growing up in Illinois and Minnesota and then attending to college in California failed to prepare me for the reality of the “glorious South”, I guess.

With my husband at the Texas State Capitol in Austin…

Which means I’m pursuing my Texas education in my own way, as a an intrepid and bespectacled scholar might study a native tribe in the wilds of Madagascar.

Do they have native tribes there? I don’t know. I don’t have time to consult Wikipedia on this one, so just go with me on it.

Without further ado, here it is…

Various Things this Yankee has Learned from Living in Texas:

• Everyone really does say “bless your heart” and “y’all” and “fixin’ to”.
• Yes, I have to be instructed on how to use a bootjack. And what the heck it is.
• I’m open-minded when it comes to barbecue. I’m not ready to stab someone with a pitchfork when they claim that my homemade BBQ might not be the best they’ve ever tasted.
• No, I don’t have a clue what “pearl snaps” are (to the rest of the world, it’s a complicated name for what appears to be fake pearl buttons on a western-style shirt).
• Everyone has handled guns from a young age, and pretty much everyone owns one. And it’s not unusual to keep yours in your vehicle–even at church.
• People dawdle on roadways, usually driving a few miles under the speed limit no matter if it’s 55 or 80. I wonder if it’s a holdover from galloping horses over the trails?
• Two-stepping? I thought maybe it was a move you did to step over a rattlesnake.
• Speaking of rattlesnakes, every single person in this state has had a close call with one…at some point. Supposedly.
• The state capitol is holy. Even the grass, I’ve been told.
• High school football is possibly even more holy than the state capitol.
• I didn’t know what they did to the horses and bulls to make them so angry at the rodeos. Yes, I had to ask. The answer made me blush.
• It’s apparently normal to have dinner at someone’s house and then spend the dessert hour perusing their gun collection.
• People know livestock here. Even the city “folks”. Who knew how many people could factually instruct me on the finer points of a longhorn?
• It’s socially unacceptable for a woman to drive a large pickup truck. My first vehicle was a pickup truck. Gulp.
• There’s no such thing as a universal salsa or queso dip anywhere. Every restaurant and/or household has its own unique concoction, and each one is proud to proclaim their creation as the best.
• Texans are serious about being a republic, and if this country ever falls apart, I’m pretty sure they’ll go back to defending it as such.
• They consider it chilly when it hits below 70. And it’s incomprehensible to them that that used to be a nice summer day for me as a Minnesotan.
• Hot sauce is served universally at every single restaurant.
• Water moccasins do inhabit every lake, and they do swim towards your boat. And yes, it’s terrifying when you’re  alone in a kayak.
• Everyone does own cowboy boots, regardless of age, race, or gender.
• In the summer, the streets are devoid of life. Except for fire ants. They rule every inch of sod in this state all summer long.

However, there are some uniquely Texan claims that I must (somewhat begrudgingly) admit are true…and better yet, I actually enjoy…

Surprisingly True Things About Texas that I Love:

• Spring in Texas–particularly the fields of gorgeous wildflowers dotting the landscape– is indeed the most beautiful thing in the world.
• Without a doubt, the best ice cream in the country is here. And it is Blue Bell.
• Men are more chivalrous. I don’t think I’ve ever opened a door on my own when I’ve been with a man.
• Prickly pear juice is real–and delicious.
• Children are incredibly well-mannered (“Good morning, Ms. Cassie” and “Yes ma’am” are phrases I’m still getting used to hearing on a daily basis)
• Food is spicier, but a thousand times more delicious than any other state I’ve lived in.
• The Texas state flag does indeed fly as high as the national flag. And it’s treated just as reverently.
• It’s normal to eat tacos for breakfast. And every gas station and fast food joint has its own style of taco.
• People love it when you play the banjo and/or harmonica in church.
• There’s more fierce pride in Texans than any other state I’ve ever lived in. And it’s well-earned, when you manage to survive summer here.

As for what I’ll learn in the next few years? Well…I guess you’ll just have to wait and see how countrified this “Yankee” will end up being.

Bless your purdy lil’ heart…

A 21st Century Guide to Survival in the Wilderness.

Trees, ferns, and woods–we go way back.

But how I navigate the wilderness now has changed dramatically in the last 20 years.

I spent a large portion of my childhood living in the woods of Central Illinois, where most of my free time was spent wandering around in undisturbed acres of forest with my massive dog, Bomber.

I would venture off with a book in one hand (and sometimes some marshmallow Peeps that I would split with my furry guardian) and, after blissfully dipping my feet in a small creek or picking a bouquet of sweetly scented wildflowers, I’d sit down on a mossy log and read for hours.

I carefully researched plants and bugs, and listened with rapt attention to my grandmother–who had also grown up in the woods–as she pointed out edible plants and flowers and explained various uses for them. I also read books about explorers and adventurers, filing away useful information about how to build fires, forts, and skin animals. I even went through a phase where I carried around a knife everywhere with me, carving messages into trees for miles.

I’ve since traded in my muddy tennis shoes for more urban living environments, but I’ve always loved getting out into nature as much as possible. A few weeks ago, I had the unique opportunity to return to a hallowed nature preserve that’s been a part of my life since I was a child and flex my wilderness survival skills once more.

We made a trek to The Cabin.

No, it’s not the name of a creepy novel, though that may be valid when you consider that The Cabin has no electricity or running water, so the only place you can use for a restroom is a neglected outhouse that’s been sinking slowly into the same spot for nearly 80 years.

The Cabin is a log home my great-grandparents built by themselves in the 1930s in northern Minnesota, sitting on a beautiful lake in what’s now a protected national forest. My great-grandparents lived at The Cabin for years, and our family has many happy memories of it. My brother and I used to visit often in the summer, and we’d wander through trails in the woods that my great-grandpa set up with little plastic critters lurking in trees and under logs, pick blueberries and make pancakes with my grandma, dig up clay from the lakebed and make statues, and learn how to whittle walking sticks.

The idyllic picture of The Cabin you just conjured up, though, is not entirely accurate.

The Cabin, in its full splendor.

The Cabin also a place of raw terror–the place where we laid in our bug-infested beds, wide-eyed and scared over the animals thrashing around in the woods behind us. It’s where we got lost in the woods at night, had to clean fish while combating thousands of buzzing horseflies, and ended up with aggressive leeches all over our legs every time we went swimming. We once spent an afternoon cleaning out a beaver dam, and ended up walking through a tick colony. You think you know horror? No, you don’t.

And, we had to drink warm cream soda every time we were at the cabin, to boot.

While at The Cabin a few weeks ago, however, our experience was remarkably different–probably because my cousins and brother and sister-in-law and I are all of the Millennial generation and tackle survival in the remote wilderness a bit differently than our parents and grandparents.

Here’s how a 21st century twenty-something survives a trip to the woods:

1) We always have an iPhone on hand.

Need a flashlight? Two clicks, and the flashlight app’s open. Grandma is trying to give complicated directions to the church fish fry? Record it as a video and play it back as you’re driving. Spot an interesting tree behind the cabin? Snap a picture and look it up online. Fact-checking someone’s tall tales? Search Wikipedia to find out the truth. Bored on the desolate ride out to The Cabin? That’s why they invented “Angry Birds”. Making a note on your next family vacation? It’s a cinch with your iPhone’s notepad feature.

2) No electricity? No problem.

Our vehicles are all equipped with electrical outlets. And just in case we happen to end up in an older model car, we have adapters that plug into the cigarette lighter. So we play our iPhone jams recklessly. And we can even plug in a crock pot full of wild rice soup, if we need to…and double-check the reheating instructions on Pinterest.

3) Forget living off the land–we have a supply of vacuum-sealed snacks.

Forget scavenging for berries and roots, or trying to shoot our own game. We may have grown up learning how to catch and prepare our own fish, but now we have coolers and containers full of delicious drinks, organic granola bars, and peach rings ready to tickle our tummies.

4) Hand sanitizer is our best friend.

Dig around in the woods, and then try to clean our hands before eating? No problem. Most people our age carry around at least one small bottle of hand sanitizer at all times–sometimes even clipped to our purses or man-bags. And it comes in such mouth-watering flavors, like sun-kissed raspberry and vanilla cupcake. You almost want to get dirty just to smell the heavenly scent of cleanliness on your palms. Almost. We don’t really like to get dirty, anyway.

5) Skip the “Kumbaya” and get to the s’mores.

We’re not like those darn hippy parents we have–we don’t like to sing by the campfire. Just give us some roasting sticks, a bag of marshmallows, graham crackers and chocolate. That’s our feel-good bonding time together. And don’t worry, we know how to build a solid campfire…we’ve seen it done on shows like “Survivorman” and “Man Vs. Wild” plenty of times.

5) Cleaning up’s a breeze.

Collecting trash isn’t a problem for our generation. Since we all carry our own personal (and usually expensive) water bottles, made of hardy repurposed plastic, we don’t have to collect soda cans or clip plastic rings to save the eagles or turtles or whatever gets caught up in discarded waste. And we usually have a stash of large reusable grocery bags in our cars, which means we don’t have to chase down flimsy plastic bags that are flying around because we neatly carry all of our junk. Besides, we secretly like carrying around a stylin’ trash bag on our shoulder.

6) We share the experience in real time.

We’re the generation that overshares everything, and has absolutely no boundaries on our personal lives–as a labor and delivery nurse I was chatting with grotesquely reminded me on the last flight I took. On our visits to the wilderness, we carry our smart phones with us on canoes, into tree tops, and into caves…and our 700 Facebook and Twitter friends can keep up with our adventures as they’re happening. Not sure if that’s a grizzly bear chasing you through the woods? Tweet a description of that dark mass howling behind you and let your friends google the information for you as you sprint through the forest. And then post a picture (edited through a fancy filter in Instagram) of your lacerated torso and no doubt a few dozen people will comment on how you can dress your wounds properly.

7) We’ll either blog about the experience or get a tattoo to commemorate it.

I think you know what my choice was, friends.

Biggest Time Wasters of All Time.

I wandered into my closet this morning in a sleepy haze. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I did a double-take as I gazed at my husband’s side of the closet:

It was tidier than mine. Stacks of crisply folded shirts were laid in neat rows, while every shirt was impeccably hung and facing the same direction.

I quickly glanced out the window to make sure pigs weren’t fluttering by,  nor asteroids falling from the heavens and signaling that the Apocalypse had indeed started. Then the realization hit me: my husband’s on break right now from his graduate school. He truly is that bored–bored enough to organize his closet while I’m at work all day.

As I gazed at his perfect stacks of clothes, I was reminded of how short-lived this burst of organization will be. You see, I’ve neatly folded his immense stacks of pants and shirts multiple times over the last few years we’ve been married. Once, in a regretful bout of energetic OCD, I even decided to organize his clothes in a color-coded pattern.

Guess how long that lasted? Yeah, about a week.

This naturally led me to ponder an interesting question: what things do we do on a regular basis that are actually a ridiculous waste of time?

I can think of several, right off the bat:

#1. Folding underwear.

Come on–no one will see creases in your undies. You’re probably the only one who really opens that drawer, anyway. Other than the occasional burglar who systematically checks under your mattress, in your jewelry box, and in your underwear drawer for valuables. Incidentally, I’ve come up with the absolute best hiding spot in the house for hiding my valuables. Not that I want to invite trouble, but I’d be happy to let a thief poke around and leave my place perplexed and penniless.

#2. Reasoning with the blitzed friends of your regularly too-intoxicated-to-walk neighbors.

Why do we attempt to reason with people who stumble down our apartment steps with only one shoe on, and try to talk them out of urinating from the second story onto the public walkway below? People who can’t even recite the alphabet or touch their fingers to their nose steadily simply won’t listen to our best arguments, as stellar as they may be. As the saying goes, “Don’t throw pearls to pigs”.

#3. Saving and organizing old magazines.

I’m sure most people I know commonly refer back to the 1984 issue of National Geographic on a regular basis, and are justified in holding onto old magazines. Interestingly, old magazines are the most frequently sighted and oft-ignored item at the local Goodwill Outlet I frequent. However, if you want to end up on an episode of Hoarders and have the entire cable world sigh in disgust at your filthy home, collecting magazines is probably a good way to start.

#4. Planning weddings on Pinterest.

I hate to break it to you, all of my single friends–wedding planning is actually pretty awful. The only truly enjoyable part is cake-tasting–and that’s paramount to getting your ear iced before you get a needle jabbed through (yeah, it pretty much feels exactly like getting a painful piercing when you realize how much you’ll be paying per slice for your “dream cake”). All those perfect pictures, gowns, and decorations you see online are beyond your budget and probably unavailable to you, unless perhaps you plan on marrying a royal (act fast, that’s a small market).

#5. Filling up toothpick and Q-Tip dispensers.

Call me guilty of participating in this addicting habit, even though I’ll readily admit what a waste of time it is. All those cute little dispensers are apparently made for humans the size of dolls (who, incidentally, don’t use Q-Tips). Would you rather have 15 Q-Tips displayed nicely in a glass jar and have to refill it every 8 days, or have all 750 Q-Tips in a handy container and restock it every 3 years ? I think we both know what the obvious choice is.

#6. Listening to your automated message system announce each new message.

Is there anything more frustrating than hearing that robot voice say, “You have 9 new messages. First message, left at 10:34 A.M. on Friday, March 19. Phone number, 314.555.9874…Message end. To replay message, press 1. To skip message, press 2. To listen to the next message, press 3. To hear more options, press 4.”

Hm. “To hear more options”–like perhaps a step-by-step guide to blowing up this confounded machine? I’m dialing right now.

#7. Waiting for people to finish pulling out in front of you when you have a green light.

I’m a big proponent for allowing the top 25% of drivers to carry around a set of  blow darts in their cars, just in case they need to pop the tires of the bad driver in front of them. How much time has been wasted waiting for those people who pull out halfway in your lane, give you the doe eyes in hopes that you’ll let them go in front of you, even though you clearly have the right of way and now traffic has halted behind you because you can’t get around this bloke? Lots.  

#8. Cleaning the junk drawer.

I don’t need to explain this one, because we’ve all done it and realized how futile it is. Those “organization experts” who advise that even your junk drawer be cleaned because “everything has its place” clearly don’t have to deal with real life and the complex issues of figuring out where to store Silly Putty, spare rubber bands, and batteries that may or may not be dead.

#9. Attempting to save old ribbons.

I think my mother and grandmother are probably due for an intervention, as they are the main perpetrators of this crime. They’ll argue and point out how much money they save; I’ll tell them that I’ve been secretly wanting to put my Christmas presents in decorative bags for years and haven’t been able to do so because their perfectly wrapped, beribboned packages make me ashamed to wimp out. How can I be the one that ends the family tradition of sitting on the floor under the Christmas tree, rolling up used ribbons for hours?

#10. Surfing Facebook.

Call me hard-hearted, but I really don’t care what the kid who sat next to me in 9th grade French is eating for dinner every night, or how his vacation to Aspen was, or even what he’s doing with his life. Aren’t we supposed to save that small talk for when we bump into those people we vaguely knew in high school and we run out of things to talk about besides the weather? It seems that Facebook has suspended high school into a strange, infinitely preserved specimen that we all study every day. I’d probably delete quite a few of my Facebook friends, if I wasn’t so paranoid about someone coming after me with a shotgun someday. Hey, it’s a stressful world–you don’t want to give anyone a reason, you know?

(Hopefully, that did not give you a reason…because you’re actually my friend. Gulp.)

That’s my list of things that waste time–what’s yours?

What is Social Media REALLY Doing to Us?

I keep my finger on the pulse of real teen culture, all the time. I’m constantly talking to teenagers and preteens, surfing “teen” internet sites, reading articles and books about teens, reading the novels that teenagers are devouring, and researching what teenagers are in to.

So trust me when I say that I’m seeing some pretty strong red flags from today’s teenagers, when it comes to social media.

Much like the way that Abercrombie & Fitch lost its appeal when middle-aged moms started shopping there, Facebook and Twitter’s shiny newness and loyal adoration is losing footing amongst the teenage set, who increasingly complain to me about how “idiotic” the whole notion is, and how they are “so sick of hearing people say stupid things” online and in text messages.

Boy, I couldn’t have guessed that–kids would get sick of the drama that hounds them every day at school when it follows them home, in the form of Facebook, Twitter, and never-ending texts?

Doesn’t take a genius, folks.

But complaints and annoyances aside, I can’t help but ponder the effects of social media on our culture as a whole.

For one, a natural sense of privacy is being unraveled left and right, all over the place. People regularly carry their phones into the bathroom with them and continue texting and talking and posting, even if they’re in a public restroom. If you don’t believe me, then maybe you haven’t been to a movie theater or mall bathroom in the last year or two. I’ve seen teenagers do this in my own apartment. What should be arguably the most private place in your daily life is being infiltrated by people with bad manners and no sense of dignity.

I won’t even mention the fact that I know several teenagers who put their cell phone in a plastic baggy so they can continue texting while they shower…oops, I did.

Obviously, a lot is being discussed right now about how poor spelling, sentence construction, and even critical thinking skills are being dumbed down by people who text shortened words, slang, and half-thoughts more frequently than ever. But I sense that bigger issues could stem from communicating solely through short texts–we could not only lose the emotion behind words, but also the ability to truly decipher the meaning of others’ words. If all you ever do is text with someone, how do you know what they really mean when they say, for instance, “I’m going to kill myself?” Without reading their body language, tone of voice, facial expression, or observing their delivery of the phrase, one could easily misjudge the seriousness or humor of the situation.

Sure, social media is a valuable tool for sharing the often overlooked details of life with those you love. In my case, as someone who’s lived in 5 different states and lives apart from both sides of my family, I’m able to stay connected with friends and relatives all across the country. But it could be argued, overconnects us and gives us a false sense of importance. Why else do we think that others care what we had for breakfast, where we went shopping this afternoon, what we purchased, what shows we’re watching on television, and how our hair looks today?

As cute as it may be, do we really need to know what others think of their baby’s garbled sentences, or what books they’re reading, or that “we’re making chocolate chip cookies today with mini-chocolate chips–yum!”?

Isn't this enough for the world to know about me?!

I’m startled by the upcoming changes in Facebook’s new “Timeline” platform, which will splay my entire life across the internet–unless I take quite a bit of action to patrol photos, messages, friends, and status updates in advance. As Facebook’s Mick Johnson said, “As you scroll down, you’ll see your posts, photos and life events as they happened, back to the day you were born” and co-founder Mark Zuckerburg adds, “What Timeline does is show all the recent activity and then as you back in time it starts summarizing the things you’ve done in your life”.

Sure, on one hand, that’s compelling. No doubt many of us will have pleasant memories, inside jokes, and forgotten friendships drift back into the limelight. But since when do I need an automated system “summarizing the things I’ve done in my life”? Why does anyone want to see my entire life, “back to the day I was born”?

I’m more than the sum of my Facebook posts and photos–and I fear that the result of this may be just that: we’ll judge each other as the sum of our Timelines, and nothing more. We’ll know every detail of our days, every awkward stage, every like and dislike, every boyfriend and best friend, every family member–but will we actually know what each other’s laughs sound like? Or how we crinkle up our noses when we react to something unpleasant? Or how we sing off-key, hate when people chew on pens, or how we jiggle our foot when we’re antsy?

In other words, what happens when only the highlights (or low points) of our lives are on display to the entire world?

I don’t have enough time to sift through all the implications of the effect that social media will have on upcoming elections, careers, and reputations. But think about it–the future president of the United States is coming from my age group. No doubt he or she is deeply involved in social media right at this moment. All those silly inside jokes, off-color comments, embarrassing photos that they’re posting right now will be displayed for the world to see in the future.

Arguably, the campaign for public offices begins as soon as you activate your Facebook or Twitter account, no matter what your age–because once it’s out there on the internet, you can never truly take it back.

The fact that what you say in the heat of the moment, a drunken state, or in jest could permanently ruin a friendship, a run for office, your education, career or reputation, is a daunting one. 

We all have ups and downs in life, and we make errors in what we say and do. But when every thought that comes to mind is immediately transcribed and published to upwards of 700 ”friends”…or when a stupid decision is broadcasted to your entire university…or when every co-worker sees the picture of you doing something idiotic…what’s the long-term effect?

Besides, as writer Dick Staub succinctly summarizes, we are now living in a world where “networking replaces craftsmanship”. As he writes in his own blog, 

“Today, thanks to technology, everybody can distribute written words, musical compositions or homemade films. Some of these are quite good and deserve a broader hearing and viewing; some are not, probably most. But most think they are worthy and good! (Think of the talentless contestants auditioning for American Idol). This monster of boundless indiscriminate self-expression is due in part to America’s educational philosophy of affirmation absent objective critique. Kids have been told they are really good at things they are absolutely not good at. Technology allows them to give it a go anyway! The elitist, snooty gatekeepers of the past are being displaced by the often intellectually and creatively clueless consumers of the present. They decide what is worthy, though generally ill equipped to distinguish craft from crap.”

So I ask again–what do YOU think social media is really doing to us?

 

The Penn State Scandal, from a Youth Leader’s Perspective…

To say that I’m horrified, sickened, and utterly appalled by the Penn State scandal that’s hit the news in the last few days would be an understatement.

Rarely do I feel compelled to personally respond to a woeful tale of news. But as someone who works with young boys and girls on a regular basis, spends time studying their psychology and understands how  fragile they are at this critical time in their lives–and has some idea of the extent of the damage that sick adults have inflicted on these kids will undoubtably cause–I can’t keep quiet.

I don’t have the desire to yet again sully the minds of good people by dredging up the details of horrific tale of heinous crime, cover-up, negligence, and unbelievable arrogance. Nor do I have the experience or degree necessary to analyze this like the legal experts and psychologists out there , who can articulate and explain much better than I can.

So I’ll speak from my gut, as a youth leader.

My heart absolutely goes out to the boys and families who are enduring humiliation, betrayal, and attempting to recover from the abuse of men that the world lifted up as heroes. I pray for their future, their ability to forgive, heal, and recover–but I know they can never forget what has happened to them.

I feel sick when I think about all the ways that the adults in this situation failed to protect innocent children. If this doesn’t demonstrate the old adage that “absolute power corrupts absolutely”, I don’t know what does.

It’s hard for me to fathom what went through the minds of those who realized that such atrocities were taking place with their co-workers, and how they justified not stepping in to call the police and pursue this doggedly until the appropriate people got locked up in jail. To be a program director or the president of a university, and to hear a hint that even smacked of sexual abuse of minors and to do nothing but bury it? And to honestly think that no one would ever find out?

I can’t possibly imagine walking into a locker room, witnessing abuse with my very own eyes, and not being sure about what to do. It’s unbelievable that a grown man could go home and eat dinner, get up in the morning and go about his normal daily habits without even pausing to consider what a fragile ten-year-old boy was going through at the same time. And to call daddy and ask for advice, instead of doing what was right and calling the police?

And to have your grown son call you for advice on this issue, and to not call the police yourself? To sit by and proudly watch your son succeed in his career by covering  up and protecting criminals–who continue to commit horrible acts on innocent young boys?

What’s more, I can’t believe the college students at Penn State who are rallying and rioting for this so-called “legendary” coach. Do these students have no semblance of right and wrong? Or are they so self-focused and arrogant (and likely intoxicated) that they can’t understand what evil has been committed here? (Hey, Penn State–ever take a history course? Young adults rallied and rioted like this for another guy–er, I think he went by the name “Hitler”? Ring a bell as another mistake that people once cheered for?)

Stories like these–and my ill-fated story of being attacked at Disneyland, which you can read here– sure illustrate how depraved our world is.

At the same time, it saddens me to hear things like I heard on the national news yesterday, as one expert talked about parents and students being wary about the adults in their lives. She cautioned against adults who talk to and hang out with youth, who spend time seeking to understand kids, who know what kids are into, who attempt to be a listening ear and caring adult to young people.

It’s not that I disagree–it’s just that she described me (and every other youth leader, pastor, Big Brother or Big Sister, and counselor) out there. And despite all the negative news about leaders and adults who do screw up, there are a lot of us faithfully working with kids–not because of some sick fetish or inner inadequacy or inability to grow up and get a “real job”–but because we know that investing in this upcoming generation is the most important thing we can do for our world.

In this horrific scandal, the “good adults” were the ones to distrust…the ones who twisted the truth and blatantly chose the path of no responsibility…the ones who looked out only for their own selfish gain and paid no attention to the lives of helpless kids. Only time can tell what sort of an effect that these fallen heroes might have on the way this entire generation of kids grows up to trust, behave, and believe.

And really, who can blame them?

Let’s instead pray that this generation rises above this sort of behavior and can set a better example of moral integrity, justice, and honesty to their children.

7 Observations about Today’s Middle School Kids…

I’m still recovering from our annual confirmation retreat, which was a few weekends ago.

Yes, still recovering. I’m old. My 26-year-old self can’t pull those all-nighters like I could just a few years ago in college.

Earlier this month, I spent my beautiful fall weekend running a huge retreat for our 7th and 8th grade students, at a camp about an hour and a  half away from our church. I spent pretty much the entirety of my waking moments meticulously running through checklists, transportation arrangements, schedules, songs, props, and handouts…not to mention constantly giving direction and instruction, problem-solving on the fly, breaking up rowdy fights between 7th grade boys, hugging crying girls, speaking and teaching, checking in with leaders and musicians and tech people, shouting through a megaphone, and acting as liaison between our group and the camp staff (translation = every time a kid wanted to go shoot arrows at the archery course, I had to stand and supervise to make sure no one came home missing an eye).

It was a great weekend. I managed to get about three whole hours of sleep each night in my room of non-stop hyperactive girls, I only got hit in the face with a dodgeball twice, and only one student dared pull a prank on my water bottle.

I use this time, each retreat, to scrutinize each wave of students. I love to learn their culture, their norms, and their group’s personality, as well as what they struggle with, what they need, and what they’re growing up to be.

Here are 7 of the observations I made about this particular generation of students:

• We are, without a doubt, seeing the impact of strictly scheduled kids who are completely immersed in technology. Kids don’t really know what to do with true free time. These kids are so used to being told what to do, every second of their day, that they don’t understand how to think on their own or structure their free time at all. They also wouldn’t stop asking about the schedule. It’s clear that they are used to keeping their own schedules and knowing what’s happening each day, and even though we told them “not to worry about the schedule”, they did.

• I think these kids crave a release from their technological world. We don’t hear many complaints about it not allowing cell phones at our retreat anymore, whereas it was a constant complaint just a few years ago. Kids seemed all too happy to be away from the “stress of keeping up with Facebook and their texts from friends”. I just wrote an article about this at my youth ministry column at thESource, if you want to dive into this topic more here.

• These kids are more noticeably distant from adults and older teenagers. Even our high school students, who helped out as leaders at one of these retreats for the very first time, noticed this and commented on it. Our middle school kids were polite, but distant. I wonder if this is a reaction to the fact that they are constantly ordered around by adults, with their highly structured teams, clubs, and other organizations—and deep down, maybe unknowingly resentful that these adults don’t care enough about them to force them to unplug, take downtime, and quit the activities that they can’t mentally and physically keep up with.

• This group of students is losing the ability to read and write at the level that should be standard for their age group. Many was very rudimentary in their ability to think critically, fill out answers, and spell. I know this is the generation that is the techie generation, and it’s clear to me that using autocorrect and not learning how to write things out by hand is eroding their ability to spell, construct sentences, and even their handwriting itself. I fear for their college professors–and the future of literature.

• Attention spans are getting shorter and shorter. The old adage I’ve heard that a student has about a minute of undivided focus for each year old they are (so, about 12-14 minutes at a time for these kids) seems to be shortening. They want everything instantly, and they get antsy even if they have to wait in line for something. They lose focus in the amount of time it takes to hand something out to their group.

• I think these kids are absolutely dying for individual attention. It’s a trademark of their age, of course, but it seems like even the smallest amount of personal, one-on-one time just completely lifts them up. One really cool thing we did this year was have all of our small group leaders pray individually with kids, while we were doing our closing worship service—so each student there was prayed for personally by an adult. Many kids were crying, even though most of the adults spent only a few moments praying with them. I wonder if this is another effect of them feeling like they are over-programmed and expected to produce results in most everything they do—that simply by having an adult love them, without expecting anything from them in return, is something they aren’t used to.

• At one point, when I told the entire room that we had had a prayer team of 80 people (including 60 teenagers who had gone on the retreat before), praying for them by name for the entire month of October, I saw jaws drop open. I think the idea of being a part of something that’s a legacy is something that’s important to this group–which makes perfect sense, because the technology they’re so used to is so temporary that they crave something that lasts for a long time. Kids were coming up to me and telling me they were excited to get to pray for this group when they became teenagers, and many were asking me if they could come back to the retreat as teen leaders in the future. I think this wave of kids will be very interested in their personal genealogies, and will be captured by the idea of being a part of something that’s bigger than themselves.

All observations aside, I need to add one purely emotional statement that comes straight from the gut:

I love these kids and leaders.

Even with the kids’ wild dodgeball-chucking energy, and that twinkling in their eyes that indicates that they just poured a cup of sugar into my ice water, and their insistence that we stay up “just a little bit longer” to tell stories in our room late at night, and our leaders’ good-natured assistance with pranks, stealing creepy dolls out of rooms when no one is looking, and hiding candy bars in their Bibles…they make retreats like this a blast.

And now, for the first time in weeks, I can relax…and leisurely sip my sugar-free water.

Surfers, Simple Living, & The Future of My Generation

I learned something new about myself last night:

I shouldn’t watch surf movies with my husband before going to bed.

Hm. When I say it like that, it seems to imply that I had an unfortunate liquid-related incident in my bed last evening. That’s not the case.

To be a bit more precise in my explanation, I shouldn’t watch movies that portray a relaxing, nature-embracing, simple-living kind of lifestyle–one that seems to be favored by most surfers. Because after watching only fifteen minutes of a surf documentary about a surfer and rock climber who took six months off of “real life” in between jobs to explore the world on a sailboat, I was ready to sell everything I own and buy a boat and sail out to Easter Island, like these two did.

Fine–if I’m being honest, I want to hang on to my jewelry, handbag, and art collection. Oh, and my iPhone. That’s it–everything else can go.

It’s interesting, really, to think about living such a simple lifestyle. I think it’s one that my generation will eventually embrace.

I read voraciously, and love studying generational theories (I can thank my program director, Dr. Ross, for introducing me to this topic in college!). From what I’ve read on my own generation–the ”Millenials”, or “Mosaics”, as we’re sometimes called–it seems that we’re the most egocentric and entitled, but informed and socially-minded generation in history.

We constantly post status updates about ourselves on Twitter and Facebook (and have the gall to think that anyone actually cares what we’re eating for lunch), a Wikipedia article about anything under the sun is accessible to us at any moment, and we dabble in thousands of different interests at once.

At the same time, however, this is the generation that rethought new ways to contribute to the welfare of the underprivileged, as evidenced in companies like TOMS shoes. We’re the generation that invented a way to make a contribution to others via text message donations, whether it be starving children in Africa, AIDs relief efforts, or donations to help earthquake or tornado victims. And we think nothing about spending extra on bottled water or kitschy t-shirts, if it helps others.

We’re also under more pressure and balancing incredibly heavy expectations, compared to any other generation in history. I feel dizzy when I think about the pace of my day-to-day schedule–and it’s nothing compared to the bevy of activities I was handling in high school and college. 18-hour days crammed with multi-tasking every moment until my head hits the pillow at night have been a constant since I was fourteen.

And it’s only gotten worse, as I look at the students I work with. They simply can’t keep up with their increasingly demanding schedules.

You know what sort of comments I’m hearing from today’s teenagers?

“I hate texting. I hate keeping up with everyone all the time and always having to respond to them. I hate that stupid dinging, that tells me that someone wants to talk to me. I wish I could just get rid of my cell phone for good.”

“I’m so over Facebook. I’m sick of watching everyone pretend like they’ve having the time of their lives, all the time. It’s just a brag-book. I hate it.”

“Do you ever wonder what it’s like to be Amish? I mean, to just live simply and provide for yourself and not worry about anything else? It must be great.”

I’ve read that every generation rebels against their parents’ generation. It seems to hold true–the Baby Boomers definitely stood for the exact opposite of everything that their parents embraced and instead turned to mystical influences, free love, and relaxed and fluid lifestyles. And, in turn, their children chased status and wealth and stability in their careers. Just look at the rise of labels and Wall Street in the 1980s alone–that gives you a picture of what they craved.

So, what will our generation rebel against? What will we look like in the future, and how will we affect the world?

Maybe, as history unfolds, it will prove me wrong. But I think that this fledgling generation will give up status and wealth and success in favor of living more simply.

I think we’ll rebel against our frantic childhoods, crammed chock-full of piano lessons and football practice and student council meetings and find our stride in embracing just a few activities we really enjoy as adults.

I think we’ll see more and more people giving up the idea of owning a massive home and a closet full of designer clothes, and living like the surfer and rock-climber in the documentary I watched last evening–where, instead of saving money to splurge on tangible “status items”, they’ll choose to invest in intangible experiences like traveling the world on a boat.

I think this generation will care more about connecting with friends and family than having thousands of friends on Facebook. They’ll give up the concept of texting dozens of people at once, and will instead choose to share their lives fully with a select few.

I think this generation will give up the idea of conformity in a corporate-based world, and will instead celebrate diversity as they unite in their beliefs that we’re all out there to help each other. Don’t forget–we’re the kids that grew up with teamwork ingrained in our very souls from infancy, as we ran laps together for soccer practice and shared Valentines and cupcakes with everyone in grade school. Individuality will be less important, because the overriding idea will be that we’re all one big team. Hence, the passion for social justice and the idea that we should take care of everyone on this planet.

I think our short attention spans will influence everything around us, from television shows to literature to trends. But I think we’ll enthusiastically bounce from one thing to another, and a plethora of newness will spring from our generation, as people throw themselves into something they truly love and are inspired to do, no matter what sort of paycheck it affords them at the end of the month.

Of course, the inevitable outcome is that our children, someday, will rebel against us.

And thus, the chain of history continues.

To paraphrase one of the insightful comments I heard from the surf movie I watched last night, “The greatest lesson in history is that men never learn from the lessons of history.”

I think these surfers definitely had that right.

And if they had that right–then maybe they’re right about this whole “live simply” idea.

Don’t Judge the Savior By the Screwball…

(Author’s Note: This post is part of a multi-author blog site called “The Question”, where a variety of authors will be blogging about a sole topic. To check out the site, please go to whygrudge.blogspot.com or facebook.com/The-Question)

It’s the epic question that, provided you had the right answer, could land you a multi-million dollar book contract and enough speaking engagements to last you a lifetime.

The problem is that I don’t suspect that there’s merely one answer to this taxing question: why do people have a grudge against Christians and the church?

The implications of the answers affect each one of us, as Christians. However, if we’re being honest with ourselves—do we really want to know why we’re so disliked?

To put it in another perspective, isn’t what we’re asking here tantamount to the nerdy dweeb asking the most popular kid in school to bluntly list out all the reasons why he’s not cool?

Quite simply, one of the biggest reasons that Christianity isn’t popular is that we’re soldiers stranded in a hostile enemy territory.

Jesus himself tells us in Luke 12:51, “Do you think I came to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but division.” The world we live in has little patience for our standards of life. They don’t understand that our philosophy isn’t “every man for himself”, but instead “love your neighbor as yourself”. In a culture obsessed with freedom and success, the idea of submitting and laying down idols seems downright stupid.

And worshipping someone you can’t even see? Ridiculous.

For a year in college, I lived with a roommate who wasn’t a Christian. She was so clueless about Christianity, in fact, that when she watched “The Passion of the Christ” for a mandatory religion class assignment, she paused halfway through the scene of Jesus being whipped mercilessly and asked me, “They don’t kill this guy in the end, do they?”

My roommate observed my behavior as a Christian for an entire year. She asked me questions about why I would get up early on Sunday for church, or why I would waste time reading my Bible when I could be hanging out with the boy I had a crush on down the hall. When I finally convinced her to come to a campus chapel, after months of praying for the opportunity to get her in church for the first time in her life, she sat in mute silence, her face stony. She never came to chapel again.

I valiantly tried my best to point out all the benefits to my life as someone who had a relationship with Christ, but she wasn’t won over by my best arguments. To this ultra-hip, beautiful girl who had everything in the world going for her, she didn’t have the slightest interest in giving up her wild weekends and changing her lifestyle to live a life of obedience and thankfulness for her Savior.

Ultimately, my former roommate became a Christian five years later, after she hit rock bottom in her life. It wasn’t until everything in her life was shaken that she finally realized how important Christ really is.

I think that’s part of it, truly. Our lives are so comfortable and convenient, so fast-paced and chaotic, so distracted, that we forget that we need a Savior. In fact, we’re not entirely convinced that we have anything we need to be saved from. Sure, maybe we screw up every once in a while—but me? Deserve death for my disobedience? Nah.

Sometimes we don’t even realize that our lives have an ending point—and a future home after death—until something earth-shattering forces us to recognize our own invincibility.

And maybe, if we’re being honest, we don’t like to be reminded that we’re invincible. Perhaps we resent the fact that Christianity points out the weaknesses we want to hide, the secret flaws we want to pretend don’t exist in us, and the fact that we, too, will someday cease to breath and will die.

But why, too, are people so opposed to Christians themselves?

Being a Christian, I’m not sure if I can answer that for the “other team” accurately. But I suspect that maybe we find people hating us so much because, well, we’re kind of lame sometimes.

A Christian shirt I actually own...

We wear our pithy Christian shirts. We listen exclusively to our Christian radio stations. We read our Christian books with ridiculous titles, we drive our cars with silly bumper stickers, and we frequent Christian establishments.

Do we ever intentionally look at the bubble of safety we’ve created for ourselves to live comfortably within, and think that maybe we’re not meant to live solely in this zone? That maybe God called us to live out in the world and witness Him to people who don’t read Christian magazines and listen exclusively to Chris Tomlin?

As hard as we try, we’ll never be anything like Jesus. Yet we walk around proclaiming to be His earthly representatives. Unfortunately, when we yell to the world, “I’m a Christian!” and then screw up—as we so often do—we’re representing Him poorly.

Imagine a secretary who proudly claims to represent her boss so well…yet she continually forgets messages, doesn’t return phone calls, loses important receipts, chews out other employees, and bungles one business deal after another. Isn’t that sort of like what we Christians are doing to God?

I hate when I hear a band do a cover of a song from another popular group. Sure, it’s technically the same song—and sure, they can hit all the notes—but at its core, it’s merely an imitation of the real thing. And really, that’s what we are, as Christians. We are merely an imitation of Christ—not Jesus himself.

Sometimes we’re a pretty darn lousy imitation, too. But just as you can’t judge a horrible rendition of a song and give up on the original tune because of the blockhead cover artist, the world shouldn’t judge Christ based on our failed attempt to represent Him.

Somehow, I suspect our mission needs to be getting ourselves out of the way and letting the Holy Spirit shine through us as unclouded as He can. To share that, as Christians, we’re not perfect–but even as the fact that counterfeit money is circulated in the world doesn’t detract from the real money that’s out there, our weak imitation of Christ doesn’t truly represent who He is.

His kindness overflows. Ours does not.

His love is endless. Ours is not.

His forgiveness is limitless. Ours is not.

We are human. He is Almighty.

Our mission, should we choose to accept it, is to realize how far we really are from Christ’s perfect love, and to honestly show that gap to the world. It’s only when we’re actually open to the stinging truth of our own failures and shortcomings that we can admit our own infallibility and our desperate need for a Savior.

Because really, that’s the beauty of our faith in a nutshell: in our deepest shame and our biggest mistakes, we can be forgiven and renewed and given a future we don’t deserve through the grace that Christ offers us freely and unconditionally.

And when we, as His earthly representatives, can be candid about this—maybe we’ll encounter a world more likely to sympathize with us.

“This Moment Is Unlike Any Other Time In History”

Recently, I was chatting with my husband about literature. The conversation occurred when he stood looking at my office bookshelf, which is quite tiny and so crammed with books that I can barely pull one out without ripping my fingernails off.

Would that count in a worker’s comp lawsuit?

If so, I better note all those papercuts I get from doing mass postcard and letter mailings, too.

Tyler gazed over the titles of my books, and said to me, “Some of these books are probably the life’s work of some of these people. Do you think that their life’s work–their legacy in ink–matters to anyone else?”

Good question.

I think the real question is whether or not a book can truly transform your life. If so, the hard work and sacrifice to write the book is definitely necessary.

In my humble opinion, my life truly has been impacted by literature. I’ve been deeply provoked, challenged, comforted, and inspired by countless authors. In fact, I’ve written to a few authors over the last few years and told them how much their books have meant to me. I’m convinced that some of these authors and I would be kindred spirits if we actually knew each other.

One such book that has impacted me is Gabe Lyons’ book, The Next Christians: How a New Generation Is Restoring the Faith (I received this book for free from WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group for a review).

Holy cow, people. If you read one book this year, make it this one.

And trust me, I’m quite the book critic. I don’t highly recommend any old book–only the truly outstanding ones.

Lyons writes brilliantly and clearly, with honest passion and intensity as he tackles a complex subject: the future of Christianity in the upcoming generations. His optimism and belief that the younger generation desperately wants to be a “force of restoration in a broken world” and is embarking on a revolution to rebrand the name “Christian” as something that stands for authenticity, truth, beauty, and intelligence resonates completely with what I’m seeing in the world of young Christians around me.

Lyons states, “I believe this moment is unlike any other time in history. Its uniqueness demands an original response. If we fail to offer a different way forward, we risk losing entire generations to apathy and cynicism. Our friends will continue to drift away, meeting their need for spiritual transcendence through other forms of worship and communities of faith that may be less true but more authentic and appealing.”

Preach it, brother.

Through statistics, stories, and personal reflections, Lyons weaves together a gem of a book that hit the nail on the head so many times that I literally stopped and pumped my fist in excitement in a few places…however endearingly nerdy that may sound to actually admit.

Fine, I may have a bit of a geeky streak. Proof? I was in marching band, love musicals, and adore art history.

Counterproof? I hate Star Wars, Star Trek, and video games.

Let’s get back on track.

Lyons gets it. He has his finger on the pulse of young Christians. He knows what he’s talking about.

One of the most compelling chapters in this book was where Lyons explained the different types of Christians and the way they generally interact with the world. I read through the entire section, and started getting worried–none of these descriptions fit me. “Am I a total misfit?” I wondered.

Lyons then went on to describe what he calls “the restorers”:

“I’ve observed a new generation of Christians who feel empowered…They have a peculiar way of thinking, being, and doing that is radically different from previous generations. Telling others about Jesus is important, but conversion isn’t their only motive. Their mission is to infuse the world with beauty, grace, justice, and love.

I call them restorers because they envision the world as it was meant to be and they work toward that vision. Restorers seek to mend earth’s brokenness. They recognize that the world will not be completely healed until Christ’s return, but they believe that the process begins now as we partner with God. Through sowing seeds of restoration, they believe others will see Christ through us and the Christian faith will reap a much larger harvest.

They are purposeful about their careers and generous with their time and possessions. They don’t separate from the world or blend in; rather, they thoughtfully engage. Fully aware of the seachange under way, they are optimistic that God is on the move–doing something unique in our time.”

It’s amazing, really–not only that Lyons described me and many of my young Christian friends to a “T”, but that Lyons echoed a sentiment here that I’ve been preaching to my middle school and high school students for a year now: God is doing something unique in our time.

Trust me. This is a must-read. It will challenge and inspire you, and give you hope for the future of our faith.

You can always judge how much I truly liked a book by how vigorously I wrote my notes in the margins. I circle, highlight, draw arrows, write my reactions and observations, and disagree with the text all the time–and leafing through, you can see just how much I wrestled with the text and therefore let it saturate my brain.

Guess how jam-packed the margins of this book are?

You got it: full.

Don’t Judge a Gangsta by His Gold Teeth…

I got a darn good lesson in humility recently.

Tyler and I finished up a vigorous round of shopping–which I absolutely loved and he absolutely hated, incidentally–with a trip to Chipotle, a Mexican restaurant we both love. I was digging into my burrito bowl when the door opened beside our table and the scariest-looking gangsta I’ve seen in a long time came traipsing in.

This dude was intimidating. Seriously.

He was a very large African-American guy, wearing a gigantic leather coat about three sizes too large for him. His jeans were sagging down around his rear end, his dreadlocks were crazily out of control, and his flat-brimmed hat was twisted sideways at just the proper angle (it’s an art, really. It’s a shame I haven’t mastered it myself).

What really marked him as a gangster were the humongous gold pendants and thick gold chains he had hanging around his neck.

I’m no expert, but I’d venture to guess that when your gold pendant is actually larger than a hood ornament on a car, it can aptly be described as “bling”.

I know, I know—how do I know all this slang?

I proudly thank the ghetto flashcards my parents got me as a joke a few years ago.

Incidentally, I once unintentionally left those flashcards on my coffee table when a friend’s sibling was visiting from downtown San Francisco. I didn’t know it at the time, but this sibling was most definitely from the roughest ‘hood in the city and regularly hung out with gangbangers and drug dealers—I now understand why she laughed so hard as she shuffled through the cards, alternately reading them and looking at me shuffling through my iPod’s classical music playlists.

And really, I do listen to rap occasionally–it’s not all Beethoven. Once, I even made a feeble attempt at learning to beatbox and made a recording on my friend’s cell phone answering machine.

I digress—as usual.

Lovely. Your dentist would be so proud...

Anyway, I kept an eye on this thug as he waltzed into the restaurant. I noticed him check out an attractive young woman in line, and he grinned to show off his gold teeth.

Now, there are a few levels of bad boys in my book: wannabe, small-time thug, and gangsta.

This guy was most definitely gangsta.

It could be because I love to watch television shows about criminals, or it could be because I’m probably one of the most cautious people I know—but I’m always highly attuned to everything around me at all times. And when someone walks into a room and seems like they could possibly be a threat, I watch them like a hawk.

So, I kept my eyes on Mr. Gangsta. That way, I could be the first to react if he decided to pull something—you know, start throwing guacamole across the room at innocent victims, raiding the tortilla chip drawer, whatever it is that gangters do to cause mischief and mayhem.

What I noticed, however, actually taught me an important lesson about judging people.

My eyes were so drawn to Mr. Gangsta that I barely noticed the short man beside him—a man in mismatched clothing and shoes too big for his feet. He shuffled in and stood a little too close to the thug decked out in all the bling. He kept his head down and didn’t say a word.

When they finally sat down at the table across from us with their food, I understood why.

The short companion was severely mentally handicapped. And when Mr. Gangsta sat down, I noticed that he had a lanyard around his neck along with a photo ID, identifying him as the handicapped man’s helper.

As they sat down together to eat their meal, Mr. Gangsta was the most attentive companion I’ve seen in a long time. He refilled the man’s drink, fetched him napkins and silverware, and carefully watched to make sure he didn’t spill anything. I couldn’t hear anything they were saying to each other, but Mr. Gangsta laughed frequently and showed off his gloriously gold teeth often.

In short, he appeared to be completely contrary to the rough-and-tumble thug I had originally assumed he was.

I learned an important lesson: just as people shouldn’t judge my bright clothes, blonde hair and blue eyes and think that’s the whole me, neither should I judge a gangsta by his gold teeth.

Now, the crooked hat and bling, maaaaaybe….