Challenge Kids To Do The Hard Things.

19 04 2016

I stood lurching on the swaying bus, praying silently.

As we screeched to a halt, I prepared to lead nearly forty middle schoolers into the pediatric nursing home. What we would see inside would stretch all of us far beyond our comfort zone, and challenge us to love and serve in ways we’d never before experienced.

It was with apprehension that we worked for weeks to prepare our students for a trip that most adults wouldn’t know how to handle.

You see, the center was packed with over fifty kids—but only two could move, and only four could speak. Virtually all the kids were hooked to feeding tubes and breathing machines, and wires beeped and blinked around their tiny bodies. Most of their frail limbs were twisted, and many had uncontrollable tremors and drooling. Others could open their mouths but couldn’t focus their eyes or move their heads at all.

Weeks before, a congregation member had approached our church and asked us to consider sponsoring some overlooked kids who wouldn’t be expecting Christmas gifts. Many of these children were confined permanently to the center and most had infrequent visitors. Some had even been given over to the state because of the intensity of their debilitation.86494128.jpg

Within days, our church and school banded together to pack an entire bus full of wrapped gifts, toys and televisions.

Even more incredibly, in a bold move, we decided to bring our seventh and eighth grade students to the center themselves to hand out the toys and play with the kids receiving the gifts.

What I witnessed during this very unique service event was indescribable. I saw the Holy Spirit at work in and with my students as they selflessly served other kids. Not a single one of my students grimaced or stared at these children, but displayed smiles and love that caused staff members to choke up with emotion.

As I walked through the halls of the pediatric nursing home, I felt like bursting with joy. My students had paired up and were gently unwrapping gifts with kids, placing them around the room and playing with the kids. Though most of the children couldn’t speak, they were rolling their heads around with big grins, kicking feet in excitement and moaning with joy.

I watched my students tickle the feet of a one-year-old baby boy, cooing over him with delight, and saw other students sitting on the floor to assemble the new toys of an excited little girl. I witnessed my students laughing with and hugging kids who couldn’t utter a word, and tossing around a ball with a boy who could only kick by ramming his wheelchair against the ball.

Suddenly, the center director pulled me aside to a group of crying staff members. “Most adults don’t even know how to handle this sort of thing,” she said with tears in her eyes. “These students are extraordinary. They are changing the lives of the kids in here.”

I’ll admit that there was nervousness behind the scenes, as we prepared to take our students to this nursing home. Concerned teachers and parents grilled me, asking if this was really something middle schoolers were capable of doing. “Are these kids mature enough to handle what they’ll see?” several asked me bluntly.

My response was that every person needs to be challenged and have someone believe that they can meet that challenge.

I work with students daily. They’d be the first to tell you that I have high standards for them. I’m easygoing on many things, but unwavering on the values that I care about.

For instance, I value my students having a humble, servant-hearted attitude. As a result of this standard, my teens are the first to jump up and hold open a door, help a church member with a heavy box, set up chairs for an event and volunteer to run errands around school and church.

As a culture, I believe we’ve discounted the ability of our children. We chronically undervalue what they can contribute to society, deeming them largely unimportant until they’ve reached adulthood.

This simply isn’t true.

1 Timothy 4:12 reminds us that even the youngest people in our faith communities serve an important purpose in God’s Kingdom: “Let no one despise you for your youth, but set the believers an example in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith, in purity.”

My students frequently admit their frustration with being perpetually under-challenged by the adults in their lives, whether it’s parents, grandparents, teachers or leaders.

As teenage student Katie admitted, “People think that you can’t trust teenagers at all. I think that’s unfair.”

Brennen, an eighth grader, agreed. “I think adults have a hard time trusting us until we’ve earned it. You have to prove yourself to be able to have some respect from adults. But often, they don’t give us the opportunity to prove ourselves.”

“I don’t think adults focus on what we personally can offer the world,” complains Erin, echoing a common refrain from the rest of my students. “Adults baby us a lot.”

“I know sometimes adults don’t want us to experience the pain they’ve gone through, and they’re trying to keep us safe by limiting what we can do. But we still need to try new things,” said Connor, another student.

Adolescence is a hard time for both students and the adults in their lives, as teens waver between demonstrating clear-headed maturity and reverting into goofy, childlike behavior. Though they still need our guidance as they navigate the tricky road to maturity, we often shortchange just what kids can contribute.

Though I’m not suggesting you take your hands off the wheel and let your students steer, I do ask you to consider the ways your students can be challenged in your ministries.

Perhaps it’s time for your students to be stretched outside their limits by a serious service project. Maybe your students would benefit from running opening devotions or prayers. Consider how your students could have leadership roles in Vacation Bible School, Sunday school or other events and programs. Maybe your kids need to be flexed by the challenge of teaching your Bible study or class themselves. Possibly your students need to move outside the youth room and into the community in a meaningful way.

We can’t hold our students’ hands forever and we cannot dictate their future path. We can, however, launch them into the future with the experience and support they’ll need to succeed. Even when our kids falter, worry that they aren’t up to the task or flat out screw up, we’ll be there for them, waiting in the wings with an encouraging smile.

As one teenager, Allie, told me, “Adults underestimate our abilities to do things because we don’t have as much experience as them. We can’t do things as well as them, but that’show we learn.”

More than anything, we must remind our students that they’re not alone in that complicated journey of growing up. Not only are we by their sides, but the Almighty God is with them at every moment, no matter what fears, failures, joys or decisions they face.

Jesus gave encouragement to both teens and adults alike when He told us in John 16:33, “I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”

Whatever challenges we face, whatever age we may be, and whatever season of life we may find ourselves wading through, we can all rest secure in the unending love of Christ and His constant guiding presence in our lives.

This article originally appeared in


The Homelanders: A Generation Born in Fear

13 10 2014

Every generation has their own “where were you when” moment.

For me, it was when the September 11 attacks happened.

I was a sophomore in high school, and I remember the day with crystal clarity: listening to our principal choke back tears as she informed us in a school assembly that our country was under attack.

Watching a classmate sob wildly as she received news that her father had missed his flight—which meant his life was spared, as he was originally booked onto one of the fatal flights.

Looking around at my somber friends as classes were suspended and we simply sat on the floors in our classrooms, crying and questioning what the future would look like.

Helplessly watching a teacher—who was born and raised in New York—fret inconsolably about her friends and family members who she couldn’t reach.

It’s been more than a decade since 9/11, and I’m now teaching teens who were infants when America was rocked by the events of that day.Worry

I was mentally unprepared for the comments of my teenagers a few weeks ago, when we discussed the recent terrorist activity in the Middle East that’s been sending shock waves across the world.

As we talked, one of my students said quietly, “The world of terror is all we’ve ever known.”

Please let the gravity of that statement sink in and affect you as profoundly as it affected me.

As I asked my students to elaborate, fears erupted from their mouths. Our kids worry like I’ve never even realized.

My teenagers told me about their fears of terrorists, saying how they get physically anxious—sweaty hands and tense muscles—when their parents watch the news about beheadings and threats against our government.

They also shared how scared they are of school shootings, and admitted that they’re equally worried that it’ll be a classmate or a teacher that goes berserk on them.

They told me how they battle back feelings of nervousness and uncertainty and apprehension every day, as they cope with the fear that the world as they know it may collapse at any moment, without warning.

For those of us who work with youth, this is a primary difference we must realize about this particular generation: it’s a generation born in fear.

More alarmingly, it indicates the deep-seated and unconscious distrust of fellow man.

You see, this generation doesn’t know when, where, or why terrorists might strike innocent people. They can’t fathom why evil individuals would barbarically decapitate and torture people who are trying to make the world a better place.

These kids also can’t understand what causes a classmate to methodically execute his peers in cold blood. They can’t wrap their brains around the reality of one of their own hunting them down.

As a result of not being able to understand the psychology of evil people, I wonder if this generation is growing up to be secretly afraid of everyone, never knowing who exactly might snap—and thus never really trusting anyone.

Backing me on this is White House this week dubbing those born after 2005 as the “Homeland” generation. Though they give no detailed explanation of why this moniker was selected, one can surmise that it’s directly tied to the popular television show that deals with—you guessed it—terror and fear.

Do you realize the profundity of this mindset?

Our teenagers may be growing up secretly afraid of us. They may be unwilling to fully trust anyone, not even trustworthy and beloved adults. The implications of not trusting mankind are complex and worrisome—especially when it comes to things like finances, security, national identity, and the corporate church.

Oddly enough, this generation hasn’t endured the same challenges that the previous generations have dealt with. In America’s past, we had few battles on our continent and thus our danger was more abstract. Our media exposure was limited and controlled by fewer voices, and our nationalism soared as we sought to conquer enemies together. Our country was proud to give up little luxuries and pitch in to help our soldiers.

As technology has advanced, people’s voices have expanded and more diverse populations have come to our country, and our identity as one nation has gradually been eroded. Today, we’re battling a more fragmented society with technology that brings all the evils of the entire world into the palm of our hand.

How can we possibly contemplate a threat from within if we are swamped with weeding out the vast number of evils we confront from all over the world, all day, every day, all the time?

Additionally, when we factor in the threat of widespread virus or disease, such as Ebola, we ratchet up the fear that our kids are feeling. Think of the sinking feeling we get in our gut when we turn on the news and hear about it. Now intensify that feeling and try to understand how an undeveloped brain feels about it. It’s pure dread to our teens.

Perhaps this is one reason why we’re seeing such an influx of clinically depressed and emotionally ravaged young teenagers. They perceive the world around them falling apart, yet they are expected to strive for perfection every day. They’ve had high standards set for their futures, yet they don’t even know if the world will be around in a decade.

Older generations are perplexed, admitting that they never grew up with the depth of fear that our children today are dealing with.

Perhaps one difference is that our past involved a clear enemy who attacked from outside of our country. Now, our enemy is often hiding within, disguised as patriotic Americans or even unknowingly lurking inside our own classrooms.

A primary distinction, of course, is the prevalence of social media and technology in today’s generation. Our students are faced with the bloody and horrifying violence of the news every day mere inches from their faces, on phones and tablets. They can’t escape from it, even as they try to do something as innocuous as chatting with friends online.

I wonder if dystopian literature and movies are trendy right now precisely because they hit on this fundamental fear our children are encountering. Could it be that our students are seeking a way to cope with their fears by projecting their worries into sci-fi scenarios with clearly defined good and bad guys battling against each other?

We often overestimate the emotional maturity of our teenagers—after all, they seem so adult-like in so many ways.

Reality paints a different picture, though. Our teenagers are worried about their classmates and teachers. They fear the future. They’re pained about the world around them. They’re physically stressed out and constantly on edge as they await bad news.

As adults, our tendency is to hug our children close to us in dangerous situations. However, perhaps that’s part of the bigger problem. Our kids are being kept stunted and dependent on us for longer than past generations, which is disabling them from feeling capable of handling these fears.

It’s not a matter of not wanting to expose our children to evil. It’s a matter of preparing our children to face the evil that they will unquestionably encounter in their lifetime.

As adults, our greatest challenge is to have the courage to be responsible adults. Our primary task is to prepare our children to be the leaders of tomorrow. In the words of Tim Elmore, “We must prepare the child for the path, not the path for the child.”

We can’t ignore the problems in our world by turning off the television, but we can wisely process the news with our children.

We can’t just snap at our kids to “get over it” and discount their fears, but we can demonstrate self-control and understanding to a generation that worries incessantly.

We can’t just spout off that it was different in our day and we managed to survive just fine, because this is a new world and the old way has already disappeared.

Every teenager I’ve ever met wants a trusted adult to confide in. Whether that means crying, venting, or processing matter-of-factly, it’s desperately needed. Most importantly, we need to comfort our teens with Christ’s unchanging love and His hope. In this generation steeped in fear, our teenagers will never know peace outside of Jesus—and it’s our job to help navigate them towards this Truth.

Our fervent prayers need to be surrounding this “Homeland” generation as it continues to grow up. These kids need strength and self-control that many generations before them have never exhibited. They’re navigating a world brimming with evil, and they need wisdom and understanding as they wade through these dangerous waters. We must teach them the true cost of freedom and the meaning of right and wrong.

I foresee a return to a united national identity and justice, but we must prepare this generation for the terrible cost of such a lofty goal.

True peace is an ever-constant effort, fraught with setbacks and detours, and it can never be abandoned.

In the words of Thomas Merton, “Peace demands the most heroic labor and the most difficult sacrifice. It demands greater heroism than war. It demands greater fidelity to the truth and a much more perfect purity of conscience.”

Theme Park Survival Tactics (by an Ex-Park Employee & Park Junkie)

26 08 2014

I likely suffer from a theme park addiction.

In the last decade, I’ve had annual passes to Disneyland, Disney World, Universal Studios, Six Flags, and the killer whale trifecta of SeaWorld Orlando, San Diego, and San Antonio. I grew up hanging out at Mall of America’s theme park, and have visited theme parks all over the country–everything Busch Gardens to Cypress Gardens to Knott’s Berry Farm to Valleyfair.

I currently hold passes to Disney World and Universal Studios in Orlando and bounce around between the six different parks every week.

My first dates, work events, end-of-year parties, college extracurricular events, reunions, and bachelorette parties occurred at theme parks. Heck, I even got engaged at a theme park.

I also worked at Universal Studios in Orlando for a summer when I was in college, which I’m still too traumatized to talk about. Let’s just say working in felt pants, knee socks, and a wool jacket in 98-degree weather with 99% humidity and dealing with international tourists throwing shoes and purses at me while operating a high-capacity roller coaster isn’t my favorite way to spend the summer. That’s a different story for another day.

Basically, I’ve been at theme parks every week for the last ten years.

In the many hours I’ve spent regularly at theme parks–both as an employee and patron–I’ve seen a lot.

One of the most terrifying things I’ve realized is that many people don’t know how to survive a theme park. Tragically, with their arms and legs missing from paying sky-high admission prices at the gate, your average visitor doesn’t know how to cope with handling their time at the park.

Luckily, I’m here to point out some vital survival tactics for making it out of a theme park alive (and happy):

IMG_5738Dress for Battle.

Let me make this clear: you are fighting a battle here. Your children’s happy memories and well-adjusted futures depend on you wearing the right clothing.


Wear lightweight, comfortable shoes with good arch support. If you’ve lived in flip flops for at least a year straight (or you’re from California), your feet are automatically tough enough to handle wearing sandals. If you’re from the Midwest, you are not allowed to wear flip flops because you will complain about blisters by lunchtime. Texas, no one wears boots here and I guarantee you’ll have a trail of people laughing at you if you do.

Crocs are simply never acceptable for anything anywhere. Maybe if you’re taking a direct hit from a hurricane while walking around a park. Maybe.

Your clothing should be lightweight, flexible, and able to get soaked and dry quickly. Don’t wear black, don’t wear polo collar shirts with athletic shorts, don’t mix stripes and plaid, and don’t wear skin-tight tube tops. Fine, the last few are personal preferences–based on the fact that these are stupid things to wear in general.

You are not allowed to wear rival theme park paraphernalia, because that’s like wearing the wrong colors in the streets of Compton. You’ll also tempt the theme park employees to cut you off abruptly for the fast pass riders because they don’t like you.

Watch Out for Brazilian Tour Groups. 

You know that scene in Jurassic Park, where the slight jiggle of the jello indicates the presence of approaching dinosaurs?

That’s the same way it is with Brazilian tour groups. You always hear them first, shouting their happy Portuguese chants at the top of their lungs. Then you see them, en masse, like a herd of wildebeests careening over the plains. They’re always dressed in matching brightly colored shirts, which usually proclaim “BRAZIL” somewhere–like the foreign language didn’t clue you in. Often, someone has a flag on a stick that guides the group. If you stand still enough, they’ll cascade around you like a living waterfall, giggling and laughing and cheering loudly.

Bless their hearts, they’re happy to be there. But they’ll scare the livin’ daylights outta you if you don’t see ’em coming.

Strollers Aren’t Weapons.

Someday I’ll write a coffee table book entitled You’re Too Big for That Stroller. It’ll be a best-seller, along with its sequel Meltdowns at Disney.

In order to ensure optimal theme park survival, be advised on the following guidelines for strollers:

1) Strollers are not weapons. Please do not intimidate other guests by shoving strollers into the back of their legs while they are attempting to navigate a dense crowd after a fireworks show. It’s even more alarming  that you do this when your kiddo is strapped into the stroller.

2) Strollers should be small and portable, and able to be flattened quickly when getting on a ride. If you feel it necessary to pack two-thirds of your house onto your stroller, then wait this one out in Stroller Purgatory with the other ill-prepared parents instead of holding up the line.

3) Toddlers should be in strollers when not on a ride, not tottering around aimlessly into gigantic, fast-moving crowds who give you a patronizing smile while thinking, “Gee, that kid’s gonna be flattened and I sure hope their parents learn a lesson from this.”

4) Kids are too large for strollers when their knees reach their chins. They then need to be unceremoniously kicked out and made to hoof it.

Don’t Stop in the Middle of Traffic.

Please grasp the fact that this is the most packed, zoo-like, carnival-on-steroids Happy Place you’ll ever be in.

I know, the lights are so pretty. The air smells like cotton candy and there’s music playing everywhere. Children are actually smiling at their parents, as they whirl around on colorful rides. You’re slacked-jawed at the wonder of it all.

Wake up! This is a human stampede. You will get trampled and left for dead if you don’t clean up that drool off your chin and snap out of it.IMG_5723

Listen carefully to what I’m saying:

Don’t stop in the middle of the path.

Don’t stop in the exit.

Don’t stop on the side of the ride.

Don’t stop in front of me.

Glad we’re on the same page. I’ll happily remind you and bump right into you if it helps.

Don’t Bring an iPad. 

I’m pro-technology on all fronts. But there’s a time and a place for lugging your gigantic iPad to a theme park….and the time is NOT on this trip. If your kid can’t stand in line without being glued to an iPad at a theme park, holy cow…that’s scary. It’s your job as a parent or guardian to entertain them. That’s why you get paid the big bucks. Play a game, or–eeek!–try conversation. You might actually enjoy it.

Added bonus? You don’t have to tromp over to the lockers to get your iPad after every ride.

Oh, and please note that thrusting your iPad into the air to take pictures of the fireworks is A) distracting and impeding the thousands of guests behind you and B) causing snickers of derision from half of said crowd.

IMG_4004Time Your Photos With Military Precision.

Here’s the deal: you may be the center of your world, but that’s not the reality of Theme Park World. That means that the human stampede headed towards you is under absolutely no obligation to stop and wait for you to get the perfect family photo.

There’s a slight difference when you’re in front of a picture-worthy icon, though–say, the fire-breathing dragon at Diagon Alley or the castle at Disney World. However, I believe that polite theme park etiquette means you can hold up traffic for no more than four seconds to get a photo.

Count it: one-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand, four-one-thousand…

Oh, couldn’t snap it in time? Guess you need more efficient fingers. That’s how you learn.

Leave the Social Media on the Back Burner. 

First of all, unless you’re Kim Kardashian, how many people are actually hanging on your every tweet? Chances are that no one looks at your social media posts any longer than it takes them to think, “Lucky duck, they’re having fun and I’m doing this”–which, of course, basically sums up the entire point of social media.

Yes, post a snap on Facebook or tweet a few excited phrases, but live in the moment. I can’t tell you how many miserable kids I’ve seen dragging along behind their parents, who are excitedly live-tweeting the entire experience and completely ignoring their kids.

Not to sound sappy, but you only get a few chances in life to see someone’s face light up with pure and utter joy–don’t miss it because you’re texting or tweeting to someone who doesn’t really care.

Don’t Be a Sidewalk Hog.

I’ll be fair and advise that you can walk up to three people wide at a theme park. If you dare walk six people wide, though, that’s unrealistic. Theme parks are crowded, busy, fast-paced places. Be sensible, and realize when you’re hogging more than your allotted asphalt.

Stop Being “That Guy”. 

You know exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t be “that guy” who shouts business deals into his cell phone while waiting in line, the idiot teenager who screams incoherently trying to impress girls, the bonkers kid who climbs all over the queue with a parent who does nothing to control him, the broody athlete who incessantly bounces a basketball while everyone else stands dutifully still. And, heaven help us all, please don’t be “that guy” who passes gas while in line with a bunch of hot, tired people crammed into a tiny corridor.

Don’t be “that guy” who bugs the poor employee standing at the front of the line to ask, “Is the wait time accurate?” Don’t be “that guy” who complains to the food vendors about how expensive the park is. Don’t be “that guy” who sets up a camcorder smack-dab in the middle of the crowded walkway.

Simply put, avoid doing anything that can annoy anyone around you. If you can’t handle it, go park your rear on “Small World” and rot your brain there for the rest of the afternoon. Trust me, you’ll hear the music in your nightmares.

Don’t Turn Off Your Brain. 

This is the most crucial survival tactic, when it comes to theme parks. I won’t even elaborate on this, in order to give your brain more room to store this memo.

Remember these theme park survival tactics, and I assure you–you’ll not only survive your trip to the Happiest, Most Magical, Most Exciting, Most Eye-Wateringly Expensive Place in the World, but you’ll have fun, too.

If not? Rest assured, I’ll memorialize your poor decisions in writing for you right here















Things A Pastor’s Wife Won’t Tell You (But WANTS To…)

24 07 2014

I don’t blog as much as I’d like to.

The majority of my infrequent blogging has to do with the fact that A) I’m really busy and B) I have a problem with saying “no” to the things that keep me busy.

I also can’t forget C) I hate living in a house that isn’t vacuumed multiple times a week (see “B”).

But frankly, a big factor in my blogging is the fact that I’m under a microscope as a church worker and pastor’s wife. That means every single thing I write is scrutinized. Often, by thousands of people.

But every once in a while, I get an uncontrollable rebellious streak. Like now.

As a fairly young pastor’s wife, I’ve not yet grown that thick shell of impervious battle armor that all pastor’s wives seem to possess. I still find myself laughing over things that probably won’t even register when I’m a hardened, turtle-like character in a few decades.

So in my formative state, I feel compelled to make note of the many things a pastor’s wife won’t tell you…but WANTS to.Pastor

I don’t dress him.

It may be difficult to believe that a grown man who survived graduate school can successfully pick out his clothes, but it is true.

And no, if we happen to be wearing the same color on Sunday morning, it’s merely coincidence. Only a crazy person (or someone trapped in a family photo, circa 1993) would ever dress to match their spouse.

I’m not a messaging system. 

There’s this incredible new invention out there called “technology”. It’s amazing, really.

You can get on a tiny computer in the palm of your hand and type on a teensie keyboard to send messages a whole variety of ways. Seriously, you should try it. It’s the latest thing. You can even record your voice and leave a message in your own words.

Really. Try it. I’m not a reliable courier system, anyway. And I’m sure as heck not getting paid to take notes as my husband’s administrative assistant.

I have an automatic role in VBS, no matter what.

I’ll never be able to escape some sort of leadership role in yearly Vacation Bible School. I know that even if I’m crippled and struck blind at the same time I’m attempting to adopt twelve kids from an orphanage and tenderly nurse a baby bird back to health, you’ll still pester me to take on something.

It’s just one of the laws of pastor’s wifedom.

I don’t know what he’s going to say about me in sermons. 

Yeah, I’m hearing it for the first time, too.

No, I don’t know what embarrassing or bizarre real-life story he’s using about me until he says it. Yes, the blushing is authentic. Yes, I do indeed color-code my closet, and I’m glad the entire congregation now knows about it.

I don’t know everyone’s names, let alone their gossip. 

Everyone knows me, but I don’t always know everyone else. It’s challenging to try to learn a zillion names and facts about a congregation. I’m accosted with new stories by the dozens every Sunday, so forgive me if my brain shuts down and I can’t remember what day you took your dog to the vet last week. I really do care. Unless it’s gossip–then I’m already disinterested.

I’m the designated pinch-hitter when everything goes wrong. 

Communion team forgot to show up? I’m in the back, pouring wine into tiny cups. Sunday school teacher late? I’m already halfway through the lesson. Sound system or lights malfunctioning? I’m the first one up to deal with it. Building leaking? I’m dragging out the buckets. New guest arrives? I’m introducing myself and making small talk. Bulletin board needs updating? I’m already drawing. Disgusting disaster in the bathroom? I’m the makeshift janitor. Ushers absent? I’m handing out bulletins and lighting candles. Dessert reception? I’m wiping off tables and serving up pie.

Before you complain about church, realize that I’ve already done your job before. Quietly and thanklessly. If I can do it with a smile and make the best of things, you certainly can, too.

I can hear you when you talk about the pastor.

It doesn’t matter if you’re sitting five rows behind me, or on the other side of the church. I have supersonic hearing when it comes to hearing any phrase that involves the word “pastor”.

I hate when people judge me by what I wear. 

I’m not a nun, I happen to like fashion, and I actually have eyeballs. No, I don’t judge you by what you wear to worship–so kindly don’t return the favor for me.

You don’t have to point out the obvious about either my husband or me.

Sunburned? Yes. We’re human and went to the beach. We are already aware and don’t need your loud guffaws to inform the entire church.

Oh, and you can entirely abolish the phrase, “My, you look tired” from your vocabulary when you’re talking to me.

I know, I’m making it easy for you.

The phrase “poor as church mice” is accurate. 

Most pastors are barely scraping by and their congregations are largely clueless to the immense financial toll that years of school and a low-paying salary give you.

Basically, we broke as a joke.

We prefer not to dwell on it, and make every effort to be faithful stewards–but I sure can’t tell you what a delightful treat it is to receive something as simple as a gift card for coffee. It also has the added benefit of helping you never say, “My, you look tired” to me in the morning.

We love the church more than you know. 

I’ve met my fair share of pastors’ wives who are angry and disillusioned with their churches, but I don’t feel that way. Despite frustrations, I know that tension is a natural part of ministry and I welcome it because it means we’re growing. We’re tirelessly supporting our churches, and will do whatever it takes to contribute.

Yeah, yeah, even cleaning the bathrooms. Been there, done that. More than once.

I have an opinion of my own. 

Despite what you may assume, I have a brain entirely of my own. I have my own opinions, talents, passions, and ambitions.

Someone once told me that, as a pastor’s wife, I should “never open my mouth about anything, ever.”

That’s ridiculous. How could I possibly take communion?

I don’t buy it. As a pastor’s wife, I’ll open my mouth about what matters–and what matters to me, more than anything, is my Savior.

And despite however critical someone may choose to be, the fact remains that I’m a sinful human who’s been redeemed–just like everyone else. So when I get my rebellious streaks and spout off about the challenges of being a pastor’s wife, you just softly smile and respond as every good Lutheran does:

“Oh, I’ll pray for you.”









A Savvy Girl’s Guide to Sporting Events

28 03 2014


A few days ago, I went to a professional hockey game with my husband.

We had a great time.

I’m a big fan of  sports, you see, and have spent a good portion of my free time attending professional sporting events–everything from baseball and basketball to hockey and football, soccer and bodybuilding to volleyball and tennis. I’ve even been to my fair share of competitive swimming, cheerleading and dance,  and–oddly enough–synchronized swimming.

But in looking around at my fellow females at said hockey game, I realized something:

There were a lot of obviously clueless women at this sporting event.

Naturally, this prompted me to offer up this helpful blog post for all of you ladies out there who are oblivious on how to handle attending sports functions.

I’ve compiled all of my knowledge into one condensed list for your viewing pleasure.

So here you are, my Savvy Girl’s Guide to Sporting Events:

Rule #10: Don’t Dress Up.

I’d like to point out the obvious, that the people attending this sporting event have paid money to watch a fast-paced game–not to oogle you. The only reason you should ever curl your hair and wear a mini skirt to a sporting event would involve you singing the National Anthem on the field. Otherwise, bleachers and stadium seating and heels just don’t mix.

Is there a time and a place for dolling up? Sure! It’s called “every-other-occasion-besides-attending-a-sporting-event”.

Rule #9: Don’t Wear the Rival Team’s Colors.

You may try this as a diversionary tactic–“Baby, look how competitive I am! I’m rooting against your team!”–or you may honestly think you don’t look good in your team’s colors. Or, sadly, you might just be that clueless about sports. Do a bit of research (or spend some time watching guys at the local gas station) and figure out what colors you probably should be wearing. Be forewarned, too–some stadiums will actually boo you if you show up in the opposing team’s colors (St. Louis, I’m looking at you, my friends).

If you’re neutral on team allegiance, give ’em the old French classic: basic white. Oh, and it’s never “cute” to root for a guy’s rival–even if you want his attention.

Rule #8: Your Purse Doesn’t Get a Seat.

First of all, do you really need to bring a purse to a game? Ok, maybe you can’t condense your stuff down into a small clutch or your coat pockets for one evening…but keep in mind, your precious leather satchel will be sitting in its rightful place: on the sticky, popcorn-littered floor.  It’s not a small child, even if you’ve affectionately named your Louie or Jimmy or Dolce.

At an NBA game with my husband a few years ago...

At an NBA game with my husband a few years ago…

Rule #7: Get Your Own Food.

This principle will save you from endless frustration over the course of your entire life. Here it goes: men do not want to share their food with you. Ever. If they ever do, it means that they’re humoring you or aren’t really very hungry. If you’re choosing to eat at a sporting event, get your own food. And goodness gracious, definitely get your own drink. Asking to share a man’s drink with him is like trying to steal a meaty bone from a hulking dog.

This brings me to another point that needs to be stated–it is never, ever acceptable (or advisable) for you to ask a male to get up from the game and get you a pretzel or an ice cream cone or a refill on your Coke. Get it yourself, girl. You’ve got legs.

Rule #6: Focus, Focus, Focus.

Sorry, darling, no one at a sporting event wants to hear about what Jenny said to you at work today, and how frustrated you are about your sister’s boyfriend saying that stupid political baloney on Facebook. For all intents and purposes, Pinterest does not exist when you’re at a game. Conversation is fairly limited to sports-related topics and players. Be content to actually watch the game and ask questions if you don’t understand what’s going on.

And don’t just fill the void with constant cheering, either. Don’t believe me that it’s annoying? Watch the people sitting around a loudmouth at a game. Their eyes roll more than the dice at a Vegas roulette table.

Rule #5: Don’t Trash Talk.

I’ll give you a pass on this one if you actually understand the sport in which you choose to talk smack. For instance, I played basketball and soccer enough to intimately know both sports–to the point where I nearly got punched by an annoyed Lakers fan in Los Angeles a few years ago because my trash talking was a little too accurate when it came to Kobe Bryant. But in general, it’s never wise to jabber fiercely about something you don’t really understand…especially if you’ve been drinking.

Rule #4: Don’t Draw Attention to the Cheerleaders.

Let’s face it–when have the words, “Oh my gosh, look how short her skirt is!” ever had the intended effect on anyone, let alone any guy? Save your righteous criticism, however accurate it may be, and don’t needlessly point out the skimpily dressed cheerleaders any more than you have to. Besides, some of them are Harvard-bound law students…right?

Rule #3: Don’t Be Cutesy.

Don’t get me wrong, you can hold hands with your significant other while at a sporting event. If your honey puts his arm around you, by all means–that’s fine. But if you go into a sporting event expecting to be coddled and cuddled and hugged and kissed, you don’t really get what sports are all about. People love sports because they are competitive, raw, unpredictable–it’s battle. Unfortunately, smooching and war just don’t go together.

Rule #2: Don’t Get Up From Your Aisle Over and Over Again.

Nothing makes the people around you hate you more than traipsing up and down the aisle over and over again. I figure you get one or two chances to make everyone stand up so you can climb over them and step all over their toes, and that’s it. Push it to three times? You’re getting the evil eye from everyone you’re inconveniencing. Four times or more, you risk getting “accidentally” spilled with beer next time they have to get up. Or beat up in the parking lot, if it’s in Boston.

Rule #1: Don’t Make Fun of Sports Fans Geeking Out.

As you attend sporting events, the ultimate faux pas you can make is to poke fun at those fans who love geeking out. It’s not often that hardworking adults are able to paint their faces, pull on a colorful shirt, and wear a goofy foam hat on their heads while screaming themselves hoarse–so don’t take that away from anyone. Save your caustic wit for your inevitable arguments with your internet provider’s customer service representative, and let people enjoy themselves at games and events.

If all else fails and you’re truly bored to death at a sporting event, go buy yourself a pretzel and silently remember all the times your significant other has spent wandering around a department store, vainly searching for a chair as you try on endless outfit combinations. That should muffle your inner criticism until someone scores another goal and shuts down the game.

Just remember, ladies–if I see you wearing a lacy dress and playing Candy Crush at the next game I’m at, I’ll be lobbing some of these tips your way…






The 10 Commandments of Flying

5 01 2014

A few weeks ago, I jetted across the country–to be exact, from Florida to California (which one might say is a flight from the Land of Weird to the Land of Plastically-Enhanced Weird). It was upon this long flight that I typed a few notes into my iPhone about air travel.

And when I say notes, I mean basically a list of things that my fellow passengers were doing to annoy me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve enjoyed a great many flights all over the world. I’ve met some fascinating people, heard some incredible tales, and learned a Wikipedia-worthy amount about various subjects by talking to my fellow flyers (though I’d prefer to forget about my gruesome conversation with an emergency room nurse from inner city Minneapolis).

However, spending a good portion of my life traveling has prompted me to be a bit of a flying expert. As you’ll see, I’ve put together the definitive list of rules one should follow when engaged in air travel.

So here you are, my friends:

The 10 Commandments of Flying…

1. Thou shalt not take another passenger’s arm rest, especially if thou is sitting on an aisle seat. Thou is not given an exception for sleeping, either. Thou needs to suck it up.

2. Thou shalt not apply lotion, cologne, or perfume (or anything that stinks to high heaven) before or during the flight, and thou is prohibited from wearing Clinique Happy around the rest of humanity.

3. Thou shalt not allow thy carry on bag to infringe upon my leg room, unless thou is willing to share thy pretzels and/or a napkin (if necessary) with me.

4. Thou shalt put on thy seatbelt immediately upon sitting down, not waiting and digging into my hip trying to find the loose end while I’m trying to catch a pre-flight nap.

5. Thou shalt keep thy baby’s mouth shut while flying, and thou shalt probably have an iPad and a pacifier ready to go for this very purpose–and thou shalt not be forgiven for screaming that lasts beyond 15 minutes total, even if thou has an adorable baby. And furthermore, thou shalt stop thy ornery child from kicking the back of my seat before I have to turn around and lay the smack down.

6. Thou shalt have one free pass to the lavatory during the flight if thou is sitting in a middle or window seat.1435105_89345740

7. Thou shalt not watch an overly gory, explicit, or dialogue-laden movie while in flight, but shall instead watch something that I will also enjoy watching over your shoulder.

8. Thou shalt not place thy drink too close to my seat-back tray, lest the heavens knock your drink down during turbulence and splatter my Kindle Fire instead of thou own paperback novel that looks like it got left out in the rain already.

9. Thou shalt not close thy window during take off, landing, sunrise, or sunset–unless thou is taking off from Iowa, where there is nothing interesting to see from the sky.

10. Thou shalt get thy act together and use thy God-given brain to collect thy junk before the row in front of thee is already exiting the plane. Some of us have connecting flights to catch.

Dare you break one of these commandments while flying, you better pray that God has mercy on your  sinful soul.

You also better hope that I’m not on my iPhone behind you, either…

The Differences Between Your Early 20’s Vs. Your Late 20’s…

17 07 2013

Just the other night, I was awoken by a late-night text. I kid you not, the first thought I had was, “I’m too old for this.”

How very Grinch-like of me, I know.

I used to love when my friends texted me in the middle of the night…when I was in my early 20’s. Now at 27, I’m comfortably into my late 20’s…and life has changed drastically in these few short years between my early and late twenties.

Here are some very candid differences that I’ve realized, when it comes to your Early 20’s vs. your Late 20’s:

Early 2o’s “I can sleep anywhere” vs. Late 20’s  “I need to sleep in my own bed”

I didn’t realize this one until I spent the night this year stretched out on the floor, attempting to sleep at a youth lock-in (yes, an oxymoron, I know). And then again when I attempted to sleep on the ground at a campsite. And again when I tried to nap on a couch. Back in the day–which translates to five years ago, if I have to approximate–I could sleep anywhere. And I pretty much did: in closets, on floors, on bean bags, in hammocks, and in cars. Now, I have to sleep in my own bed. So lame.

A regular midnight romp, in our early 20's...

A regular midnight romp, in our early 20’s…

Early 20’s “You’re too young to get married!” vs. Late 20’s “So when are you going to have kids, anyway?”

As a friend of mine from high school remarked recently, “It’s so strange to be almost a decade out of high school. Back then, couples were trying not to get pregnant. Now, suddenly, everyone is desperate to have a baby. What the heck?”

I have to agree. At 22, I was too young to be married. Now at 27, I’m getting questions in my birthday cards and weekly from congregation members about when I’m having kids. Thanks, world, for your confusing timelines. Apparently you’re much too young to make a life-altering decision like marriage in your early twenties, but you’re ready to raise little mini-people from scratch within a mere few years?

Early 20’s “Let’s go out, it’s only 2:00 am!” vs. Late 20’s “It’s midnight, I am so tired!”

In all seriousness, I probably averaged no more than 4 hours a sleep a night for the entire eight years I was in high school and college. We used to go out at all hours of the night, driving to the beach at 3:00, In N’ Out Burgers at midnight, or Hollywood at 4:00 am.

One time, I started hiking up a mountain in central California…at midnight. We hiked in total blackness (yes, as dangerous as it sounds–please forget I admitted to this, Mom) for several hours. Incidentally, we found out three days later that the mountain was closed to hikers that weekend because of some recent mountain lion attacks. But hey–water under the bridge now, right?

Somehow, though, in my late twenties, my body has aged about a thousand years and suddenly I actually need sleep. Like…if I don’t get at least 6 or 7 hours, I feel like a slug for days. No more midnight mountain hikes for me.

Early 20’s “Can I help you, young lady?” vs. Late 20’s “Yeah, the woman over there needs help”

Somehow, in the span of a few years, I went from being alternately called a “girl” and “young lady” by everyone–sales clerks, coworkers, and everyone in between–to being referred to as a “lady” and “woman”. And to boot, I don’t ever get carded anymore. Boy, who would’ve figured I’d miss that when it was gone?

Early 20’s “You’re like, so cool” vs. Late 20’s “You’re like, middle-aged, right?”

In my early 20’s, I was usually mistaken for one of the teenagers I worked with. We’d go out and people would ask me what grade I was in. I could confidently sit in the bleachers at a high school football game and not be recognized as an adult, and I felt like I almost had VIP access to the Teenage World because of my camouflage.

Now, when I ask my youth how old they think I am, they vaguely guess that I’m somewhere between 20 and 50. Yup. Nothing like being aged nearly 30 years by a clueless teenager. Quite a hit to the ol’ self-esteem.

Early 20’s “I totally got checked out at a college campus” vs. Late 20’s “What’s that creeper doing on our campus?” 

In probably the most unexpected turn-of-events, once you hit your late twenties, cautious college students start eyeballing you with a questioning look when you walk around their campus. Once upon a time, I used to get checked out by curious males when I stepped foot on a university campus. Now, heads swivel to see what that “old person” is doing on their hallowed turf.

And no, I’ll never tell you young punks exactly which campus vending machine gives out free candy. So there. That’s what you get for ostracizing me now.

Early 20’s “I love me some glittery eye shadow” vs. Late 20’s “When do I start using anti-aging wrinkle cream, anyway?”

Back in the day (again, five years ago), I wore all sorts of crazy clothes and makeup. Without sounding like an 80’s pop star, I’ll just say I rocked some awesome lime-green leather jackets, glittery purple eye shadow, and spiky high heel stilettos. I’d wear just about anything bright and colorful, whether it was on my body, face, or feet. But now that I’m in my late twenties, I find myself increasingly muted in every way and wondering seriously about when a young lady–er, woman–is supposed to start using anti-wrinkle products. No, I’m not really asking for advice. It’s just a thought trapped in my head, ruminating up there…

Early 20’s “I’ll happily waste my paycheck on shoes and coffee!” vs. Late 2o’s “I gotta pay off this debt and save for a house!”

In a truly cruel twist of fate, it seems that you spend your entire life training up to get a job, and then you get an entry-level job out of college which affords you a few blissful years to spend your piddly income on frivolous little niceties like new shoes and Starbucks Frappuccinos…only to realize abruptly that your dreams of a disposable income are, alas, dreams.

In my early twenties, I didn’t think too hard about dropping $4.35 on a latte. Now, in my wise years as an oldster, every dollar counts towards boring future things like a mortgage, a new car, and future loans. Adulthood is a yawn sometimes, isn’t it?

Well, there you have it. A scattered collection of thoughts on life from an aging gir…er, young la…uh, woman.