Us First, Then the Kids: Bullying and Human Value

It hurt.

It hurt to hear the insults and the laughter, knowing that it was the “cool” girls laughing at me.  Although it was only two girls, it might as well have been a nation, for when you are in the 6^th grade, that’s what it feels like.  I will even tell you the superficial reason I was teased….at the end of this.  I must get you to read this SOMEHOW!

It got better.  I found people in junior high and high school that had similar interests and kinder hearts and eventually felt not only accepted, but POPULAR and well liked in the groups I chose. 

Today’s kids, however, face new levels and avenues of bullying that a child of the 80’s didn’t experience.  Bullies in my day were at least direct.  They HAD to be.  There was no possibility of anonymity like cyber-bullying, text-bullying and other ugliness that our kids face today,  but the basic core remains the same:  A bully is a bully and when someone has so little disregard for another’s feelings, it doesn’t matter the method.  It hurts.

Why do bullies bully?  I ask myself this all the time!  I can’t grasp why one human being would take pleasure in another human being’s sadness, pain and unhappiness.  Any psych 101 student will tell you that a person who puts others down is doing so to lift himself or herself up, to build up their own personal self esteem.  Great.  That makes it all “normal” and “understandable,” then?  No.

We all like to feel good about ourselves, confident, attractive, etc, but not everyone chooses to raise their own esteem by hurting someone else.    Not everyone needs to hear people laughing at another person to assuage their fear of the laughter being directed at themselves.

Why then some and not others?

It’s easy to point fingers at the parents.  It’s easy to say “YOU did this to your child,” and quite often that may be the case.  Parents who bully, even on a more subtle level, may very well raise a child that bullies, as our values and regards for the human condition are taught, beginning at an early age.  But, I propose that it is a MUCH bigger picture.  The subtleties that our society is demonstrating to our nation’s youth are NOT being missed.

Why are we asking kids not to bully each other, when we are taking secret pictures of other people at Walmart and putting them on a website to encourage others to laugh at them, too?

How can we expect our youth of today to grasp that human value is not measured by the clothes you wear when we are shelling out hundreds or thousands for designer purses or shoes?

Why do we think we can get our teenagers to recognize and respect artistic and musical talents when we focus only on the football game and then stand up in front of others and chat during the marching band’s performance?

Why do we think we encourage young girls to look within and feel equal, while continuing to give crowns to people because they are society’s idea of the most beautiful?  And why is that beauty defined, so often, by pictures that have been photoshopped and are not even “real?”

Why do we tell our kids not to use mean words with others at school, only to turn around and call another driver “retarded” or “stupid” or even some expletive in front of our children?

Why, when others don’t agree with us politically or spiritually, do we resort to name calling and ugliness, thus teaching our kids that only people 100% like minded to us deserve respect?

I propose that we will continue to have this national disease called bullying until we, as a nation, begin to teach our children AND OTHER ADULTS by example, not just using the magic words about respect and human value.  Our culture MUST learn to recognize and appreciate human value as just that:  value.  Every individual has worth and importance.

We MUST begin to understand that we are all made EQUALLY DIFFERENT.  A person with a tiny waistline or perfect skin has NO MORE VALUE than a person with a broader waist or acne.  A person who has a GPA of 5.0 has NO MORE VALUE than a person who struggles to pass math class.    A person who earns a medical degree has NO MORE VALUE than a person who works at a fast food restaurant.

Our world says it’s an incredible honor to get to meet your state senator but doesn’t see the honor in meeting the mail carrier who comes to your house every day.    Why do we STILL continue to measure a person’s worth by such ridiculous standards?    We MUST begin to redefine success for adults as well as children, to help them understand human value.

In the book of First Corinthians, Paul talks about the body of Christ, using an analogy of the human body.  He is preaching to the idea that we ALL have different gifts, and together make up one body.

^… If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is,

there are many parts, but one body.  1 Corinthians:19-20

We are all different parts of one body.  We must all learn to appreciate the variety of human appearance, talents, interests and personalities the way God created us.  Uniformity and sameness should not be goals, but instead a cue that we need to encourage our youth to seek out their own strengths and gifts.  We are all children of God, created in HIS beauty and image, and we all are different.  Praise God!  What a boring world this would be if we were all the same!

I was absolutely floored by the recent story of Shea Shawhan and the deplorable experience she had as the victim of bullying.  She received numerous texts with the most hateful phrases and speech that I’ve ever heard.  The anonymous texters called her names and told her she was ugly, that she was not welcome at school, and that she should kill herself – among other horrible things.  I am a friend on Facebook of her “I’m With Shea” page and have followed her response to these bullies.  I am AMAZED by the strength and grace this beautiful child of God, has shown.

It inspires me to see people “standing” with Shea and encouraging her.  There is hope for us yet, shown in the responses of so many defending her and trying to build her back up where others attemped to tear her down……. but, there are also those bullying the bullies. 

Although I can’t STAND to think of what I would feel towards someone who was that hateful toward either of my children, does it make it right for us to call those responsible for her pain the same ugly names they uttered, or are we just teaching our children that SOME people ARE worthy of hatred and bullying?  It’s ok to choose your victim and as long as they have hurt someone else, we can be as ugly to them as we want, thus continuing this cycle of hate?

The divine guy that I try every day to emulate says “no.”  Jesus showed such incredible love for ALL people – sinners alike – and we are called to treat EVERYONE with that same kind of love and grace.  He showed this love and compassion towards criminals, adulterers, liars – anyone who crossed His path.    Our challenge is to TRY to do the same.  Although we will all, as I so often do,  fall short, thanks be to God, we have His continuing grace giving us another chance.

So…. what was it that the bullying girls had over me?  What did they decide was lacking in me that made me so much less worthy of respect and kindness than someone else?

My hair.

My hair was the target of their ugliness.  The taunting did develop into a few other topics – my glasses or the fact that my pants seemed short, but the one I remember the most was that these girls thought they were better than me…...because of their hair.

Their teasing and ugly words that rung in my ears for a very long time and on rare occasion, still seem to be embedded in my vulnerable moments…..were about hair.

The next time you are tempted to join in the laughter at another’s weakness, to look negatively at someone for their job or where they shop, or decide you might be a little prettier, smarter or more valuable than someone else.….remember that we are definitely different! – But equal.  And God loves the next guy the same as He loves you.

Then, and only then, you can teach your children the same lesson.

@

“Knowing what's right doesn't mean much unless you do what's right.”

― Theodore Roosevelt

Copyright 2013

Permission to use any portion

of this blog should be obtained 

from the author. 

What Wonders God Can Do When We Get Out of His Way!

God amazes me. 

This short little story is NOT about me and what I did, but about what God did.  Please know that up front.

My husband and I had decided to take the kids to the beach for a short "end-of-summer-almost-time-for-school-to-start" trip.  We had saved up a little money and had a couple free nights in a hotel saved up, so decided to hit Galveston beach!

In the true style of being a teacher's wife, I had found as many ways to save money as I could and one of those ways was to bring some meals!  I had carted all the various "lunch-making necessities" all the way from home and the first day we were there, I walked up to the hotel from the beach to make lunch for my hungry crew. After making the requisite number of sandwiches and bringing the picnic basket of fruit, chips, cookies etc back down to the beach, we settled in under our "garden awning" to have a nice lunch.  (Side note: If the box says "garden awning," stick with the garden.  The beach winds will destroy the awning, break all the legs and fall on your head.)

It was JUST as I sat down that I felt this overwhelming urge.  Nope - not that.  I had visited the facilities when I went up to the room!

I suddenly had this strong, overwhelming thought that I should make lunch for a man on the beach.  Not just any man, but one I had seen arrive earlier.  He had biked in and set up a rather old looking umbrella and lay down to nap on the beach.

I sat there a moment, wondering where this idea was coming from and the more I sat, the more I knew.   I was comfortable and ready to enjoy lunch with my family, but the need to get up and make this man lunch was WAY bigger than the need for anything else.  I looked at my husband and said, pointing across the beach, "I'll be back. God wants me to make that man lunch."

Now, the beautiful thing about my husband at that moment was...he simply said "ok."  He didn't question, he didn't chuckle, he didn't flinch.  I, on the other hand, was a bit perplexed.  I was thinking to myself that I didn't KNOW the man, his situation, whether he needed anything, etc.  I questioned whether I might even offend him.   But the feeling became so overwhelming, I could do nothing else.  I kind of think this is where God was shouting at me to get moving.  So, I did.

When I came back down to the beach, my husband and kids were playing in the waves.  I realized, nervously, that I would have to go over alone.  I set my keys and shoes down at our place and begin trying to figure out what I was going to say to this man-I-didn't-know as I walked up with a plate of food.  Those who know me would agree, I am a "preparer."  I like to know what I'm going to do, where I'm going to be and most of all, what I'm going to say.  I even rehearse sometimes.  But God had other plans...and I found myself walking towards the man.

Even as I was walking, I was thinking, "But what will I say?"  and my feet kept moving.  Looking back, that was one of the biggest surreal God moments to me - that I fought that hesitation and discomfort and let Him guide me.  

As I walked over, the man had stood up and was trying to adjust his umbrella, to no avail.  When I was within earshot, I simply said (wait for it....this is the best speech ever known to man!....) "I brought you some food."  (I know.  BRILLIANT, clever, deep, thought-provoking words, no?)

He looked at the plate and up at me and said simply, "Well, I sure could use it."

I smiled and said that I believed that God had asked me to bring this to him (am I really telling a stranger about God talking to me and telling me to do things?!  Comfort zone #3 busted!) and that I was a "gal who tried to do what God wanted her to."   

He then turned and reached into his bike basket and answered every question in my mind and erased every hesitation in my heart as he pulled out an absolutely BEAUTIFUL cross, handwoven out of palm fronds. He handed it to me and I humbly took it and complimented his work.  I introduced myself and learned that his name was Edward.  I thanked him profusely for the beautiful gift and wished him well.

I went and sat down in my beach chair and cried.

I'm not sure I've ever had a clearer affirmation from God as that moment.  God had used me to bless Edward, but even more, I'm learning, blessed ME by allowing me to work for Him.  He allowed me, His child, to meet another one of His children and see just a glimpse into that child's soul.  To look at the handiwork in the cross that Edward made, I could only imagine how long it took him to make - much longer than it took to make a sandwich.  To see  each of the roses at the center, I could imagine the painstaking work that went into creating this thing of beauty.

I cried from amazement, humility, compassion, and most of all, awe that my Heavenly Father had taken the time to give me this beautiful lesson.    

I often wonder why on that day, in that moment, in that place, God's voice was SO CLEAR to me what He wanted me to do.  I always WANT to do what God wants of me, but am rarely as certain as I was in that moment.  What kinds of things could I do in this world for our Lord if I could learn to listen like I did in that moment?  What kind of world would we live in if we could ALL hear God's call in our every waking moment and obey?

As I said at the beginning of this story, this is not about me.  This is about God's call on our lives and what He can do when we get out of his way and let Him work.   I am including a picture of Edward's beautiful gift to me - and hoping that God's even better gift to all of us reaches you today!

Blessings,
@

Divine Design: The Beauty of God's Children

Upon recently visiting New York City, I had the pleasure of visiting the Times Square Church.    This is a HUGE church down in the heart of Times Square with the most beautiful, glorious music you’ve ever heard.  But it wasn’t the music that stood out to me.  As in any great church, it was the people.

When I arrived, the sanctuary was already full - and it was ENORMOUS!   We were escorted to the “overflow room,” which was huge as well – about as many seats and people as my graduating high school class!  My friend and I sat down and the music began – and so did God’s lesson for me.

I looked up at the screen and saw and heard the choir.  I have been in choir off and on for as long as I’ve been able to speak, so I always love to hear the music and even sing along when it’s appropriate.  But this choir was different than any I had ever been.  It was filled with the faces of the most beautiful multitude of people I’ve ever seen.

I saw people whose ethnicities represented what felt like every corner of the world!  Sitting side by side and singing God’s glories were people representing every heritage I had heard of.  The skin tones, eyes, hair color, genders and ages were the most varying I’ve ever known; it felt like an ad for Benetton, the clothing line from the 80’s.  I felt tears welling up in my eyes at what felt like a true celebration of God all over the world.

I began to look around the annex where I sat.  I was greeted by the African American woman on my left and the women of various different asian ethnicities behind me.   The Hispanic woman on my right smiled at me and nodded.  I noticed the man in front of me had a bible written in what I believe was Korean.   I became overwhelmed by the incredible reminder that God sees no color.  God sees no race.  God sees His children and He loves each one of us so completely.  Equally.

I watched as the variety of human beings had an equally wide variety of worship styles – something that I always love and encourage.  There were hands in the hair, dancing, clapping, some singing out loud and others in reverent prayer or sitting quietly in their seats, all praising the One who created us all.  The song “Jesus Loves the Little Children” came storming into my head, and I’ve never understood the words as clearly as I grasped that day:

Jesus loves the little children…All the children of the world,

Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight.

Jesus loves the little children of the world.

This is His world and these are His children.  Even thinking of the concept of each soul in that room being one of God’s precious children was incredible to me.  I know how much I love my own children – completely, unconditionally and without limits.  God loves each one of us – every human being on this planet – MORE than that!

 We are called to celebrate Him and His creation and that includes each other.  We are called to love, not just those with whom we most closely identify, but EVERYONE.  We may not speak their language or understand their customs, but those are earthly things that we have created and they don’t separate us in God’s eyes.

See what kind of love the Father has given to us,

that we should be called children of God; and so we are….1 John 3:1

I’ll close with a picture I have in my head.  It’s a picture of a box of sixty-four crayons.  When I was a kid, I was SO excited to get that box of crayons – with the sharpener!  Having such a huge variety of different colors made the “back to school blues” just a bit better.   Now, imagine if that same box had been 64 blue crayons.  I like blue; it’s my favorite color.  But the true beauty, the allure of the box…. was in the variety...the differences.

Dear Lord, Help us to truly love one another as Your precious children and the beautiful variety that only You could create.  Help us to love as Jesus loved - wholly, completely and without conditions. Amen.

@

Where Have all the Adverbs Gone?

Where have all the adverbs gone? ( Can you sing that to the tune of Pete Seeger's folk hit of the 60's, "Where have all the Flowers Gone?"  That's what I hear in my head...).

I had to write today about a trend that just REALLY gets me on my soap box: Language.

I wanted to share a funny picture on my Facebook page, but upon seeing the first couple of comments, I felt like I would be posting “a rated R movie” for all my friends to see.  The picture was fine – cute, even.  The people commenting also enjoyed it, but their comments of appreciation made my color-treated hair bristle!

Just not my thing.

I once took my daughter, then about age 9, to IHOP one evening for some fun "Mommy and Me" time.  As we sat in our booth, I could EASILY hear the teenagers on the other side of the low partition cussing up a storm.  After hearing the colorful words they chose to substitute for actual intelligent sounding words and knowing that if I could hear every word, my daughter could to, I finally had had it.

I stood up in my booth, leaned across my daughter and popped my head up over the side of the "pancake meal dividers" and gave a little smile to the 4 young adults sitting looking up at me in surprise.  "Could you guys please ease up on the language?  I have my kid with me."

Hearing a muttering or two of "I'm sorry" and "I told you," from one of the kids to the other, I retreated back down to sit beside my sweet girl and continue our fun time together.  One of the young men slipped up again, and I did hear one of his friends chastise him - probably a play for my ears, but it was something.

Now, if we were in the same situation today and I handled it the same way, either my teen or pre-teen daughter would probably recoil in embarrassment and melt into her pancakes even further than the ball of butter.  BUT - I felt a sense of "mother bear pride" that I believe was natural. We are not called only to protect our children from fire and famine, but from anything that hinders or affects their growth as a mature, intelligent individual and for me - as a child of God growing in her faith. 

So WHY has our culture grown so desensitized to the "potty mouth" words of yesterday? Why are words that used to shock us being so widely used and are so MUCH less shocking?

I am reminded of a line from one of my favorite Christmas movies, A Christmas Story:

"Oh Fudge."  "Only I didn't say fudge. I said the word, the big one, the queen-mother of dirty words, the F dash dash dash word."   -Young and Adult Ralphie  (A Christmas Story, 1983*)

How is it that a word that in 1983 (and yes, I know it takes place 40 years earlier!) could be written into a movie as the "queen mother of dirty words" and is now something I hear in the grocery store?!   Why are people giving up creative and intelligent sounding vocabulary and substituting it with a menial few words that made our grandmothers’ hair turn even whiter?!

In an effort to help out my fellow man, therefore, I'd like to suggest some adverbs that seem to be slowly seeping from our daily language that could REPLACE these more shocking words. “ Bring ‘em back,” she says!!!   Adjectives and nouns are also a big problem, but I’m a big fan of the adverb, so I am choosing to focus on those for now.  Please accept this verbage selection guide as a tool to assist anyone out there who grew up with an old man like Ralphie's and you just can't seem to get it out of your head!

When something is really wonderful, you like it immensely and want to communicate your happy feelings for it, try these words:

* Wow!  That's "AMAZINGLY AWESOME!"

* Dude.  So "INCREDIBLY RIGHTEOUS."  (a little “Bill & Ted” shout out)

* Geewhilikers!  She is "EXCEEDINGLY LOVELY!"

Ok, that last one is a little too “Wally and Beaver,” but let’s not discount those lonely words that are gradually being ignored and shut away, only to be replaced by the “bad boys” of the linguistic world - one's that I would blush if I was typing on here.  ;-)

Look what thesaurus.com* lists:  (Note:  For those not aware, a ‘thesaurus’ is something that can give you substitute words to make you sound smarter.  I use it all the time. {secret reveal!} )

absolutely, acutely, amply, astonishingly, awfully, certainly, considerably, dearly, decidedly, deeply, eminently, emphatically, exaggeratedly, exceedingly, excessively, extensively, extraordinarily, extremely, greatly, highly, incredibly, indispensably, largely, notably, noticeably, particularly, positively, powerfully, pressingly, pretty, prodigiously,profoundly, remarkably, substantially, superlatively,surpassingly, surprisingly, terribly,truly, uncommonly, unusually,vastly, wonderfully

How much more intelligent would a person sound saying that something is "prodigiously awesome" or "pressingly powerful" than the much less intelligent sounding substitute?

And what about the negative?  What about the temptation that grows upon stubbing one’s toe, the temptation to share a negative to which poor Ralphie succumbed?

I have an answer for that, too!  As the blog name suggests, I am a bit quirky, therefore I have my OWN words that I use when a sudden occurrence causes great pain, frustration or even joy.  Behold AMY’S thesaurus:

·   * Piddle – this is sort of my “level one” word for when I mess up.  “Oh, piddle” is the most common variation, which I believe I learned from my grandmother.

·   * Pootiehead – this is my name for when a fellow driver cuts me off or my fellow man or woman moves their grocery cart to the newly opening line – even though I was in FRONT of them for 10 minutes beforehand! 

And finally….MY “queen word.”  This word comes out when I find that last Lego with my bare foot while kissing my daughter goodnight.  I “let it fly” when I am shocked and surprised to find that the new red shorts got into the washer with the whites and we now have pinks.  I even said it once in anger at my daughter when I discovered her school project had been delayed until – ahem – the last night. 

Yes folks, I use this word for extreme frustration, elation and even anger.

That word is a name.  And that name is....

·     * SACAGAWEA!

I hope that this incredible daughter of a Shoshone chief who once guided Lewis and Clark on their great expedition would be honored that I have chosen her name to…well…shout in frustration.  It has such a great ring to it – and I REALLY NEED FIVE SYLLABLES to truly get out my feelings.

Thank you for having a "prodigiously awesome" name, Sacagawea, so that I can have a cool and kid-friendly interjection and still teach my kids about history when they ask me what I just said!

  

NOW – I do need to state what is, to me, the obvious.  I am not perfect.  I have PLENTY of things to work on in my life.  I am not BETTER than anyone else – just have different things to work on.  And to tell the truth, shouting Sacagawea’s name or calling someone a "pootiehead" under my breath is still losing my temper and is something for me to work on, even if it doesn’t get me shunned by the PTA.

I won’t go into my own personal offenses, faults, sins and other nouns for the areas of my life that need work.  Just know that I have plenty and my little humorous diatribe is an attempt to point out what I feel is a sad trend in society, but NOT to lift myself above it all.

I just wanted to provide a few NEW little words for the world, offer my thoughts on the developing  “pootiehead-esque”  language of many Americans, and as always on this blog….

….provide food for thought.

Gotta go now, because – SACAGAWEA!!!   I am hungry for lunch.

@

* Resources used:

www.thesaurus.com

www.biography.com

www.IMDB.com

copyright 2013

To use quotes from this blog,

 please contact author for permission.

From the Subway to Park Avenue, God's Love Knows No Bounds

Sometimes God speaks to us in the most profound and incredibly surprising ways.

It was one beautiful, bright morning in New York City that He chose to both use me and speak to me.  I had taken eight young ladies and one teacher from our dance company to a dance convention in New York.  The girls would have the opportunity to take classes and perform in Times Square.  We were adding in a visit to a Broadway musical and some other fun activities, but it was our service project that turned out to bless me more than anything the whole trip!

We had arranged to work at a homeless mission, serving breakfast and leading worship.  When we were scheduling our volunteer work, I let the director know that my dancers would lead worship and I agreed to speak or preach as well.   As the day came closer, I got more and more nervous about speaking about  my faith to a group of strangers; I had been trying to live it for years, but didn’t feel that I was wise enough or scholarly enough to actually preach the gospel.  It was when God reminded me of the old adage that He doesn’t call the equipped, but equips the called that I set my mind to it.

The morning arrived.

After my girls had served coffee and led worship with their singing and dancing, it was time for me to step up to the plate…or the podium to be precise.  I started by welcoming the crowd and telling them that this was my first time to preach with my words.  I asked them with a chuckle to please smile at me and wave every so often to help make me feel more comfortable.  Many smiled and seemed on board with this “team” arrangement, but one lady, was already there.

Her name was Priscilla and she was smiling when I stepped up.  As I looked around the room at the 30-35 tired and weary souls who had come, my eyes fell on Priscilla’s wide smile and her beaming eyes.   She looked to have her worldly possessions in her pack and was dressed warmly for this crisp April morning.  As I spoke, I found myself glancing at her more often than others, as she nodded along in agreement with my sharing the words of Jesus. 

After I finished and gave the blessing, my girls began to serve the breakfast and wrapped sandwiches for later.  I went over to Priscilla and touched her back.  She looked up at me  and smiled the way I imagine an angel would smile.  I told her that I wanted to thank her for how comfortable she made me feel and how much she helped me through that first vulnerable time of sharing.  She began to tell me how much she enjoyed the girls’ dancing and my sermon and how much we had blessed her.  She asked me about the girls’ performance the next day in Times Square and assured me that she was coming to watch. 

She then told me that her office was in Times Square as well.  Her office?  I realized that I had subconsciously observed that she was dressed a bit nicer than the more typical clientele and was clean and seemed very alert.  I began to wonder why a woman who has an office in Times Square would be having breakfast and taking extra sandwiches to go from a homeless mission.

We hugged and told each other again how blessed we had both been to have met and she left the mission.  It was only after everyone had left and we had finished the cleanup that I asked the mission supervisor about Priscilla.  I was curious if they were aware that she had an office in Times Square and were ok with serving people in more stable financial situations.  The director smiled at me gently and said, “She doesn’t have an office in Times Square.”  He then began to tell me of all her troubles and mental health challenges, as well as how she lost custody of her son and his similar mental health challenges. 

I was pretty shocked.  I felt VERY naïve….for only a few minutes. Then I realized, it didn’t matter.   

God had used both of us to bless the other one and she was a cherished, loved child of our Lord the same as my own children, my friends and me.  It didn’t matter whether she had an office in Times Square, a penthouse on 5^th Avenue or was sleeping in the subway station….Jesus loved her just the same.  

How often do we subconsciously create classes or positions in life that absolutely DO NOT EXIST in God’s kingdom.  No matter what Hollywood, the government or anyone else tells you about this life, the truth is, we are ALL equal in God’s eyes.  He doesn’t see clothing, jewelry, houses and cars.  He doesn’t see outward beauty or wealth.  God sees our hearts and knows each one of us for who we are….and loves us anyway.

I went away from the mission that morning feeling blessed that God had pushed me out of my little comfortable box and gave me the incredible opportunity to speak to His children.  I thanked Him for bringing Priscilla in that morning to smile at me and give me the courage that I had been asking for in the days preceding.  I praised Him for the gift of His son for Priscilla, for me – for each soul in that room.

The next day, as my girls took the stage in Times Square, there was a familiar face on the front row!   Priscilla had indeed come and stood beaming and cheering as she watched her new friends on the stage.   The same joy was on her face that morning as it had been the day before.  Now knowing that her life was completely different than I had originally thought….didn’t matter.   She was my sister in Christ, a child of God and she mattered.  

I went over to talk to her and thank her for coming, her joy at seeing me again radiating all around.   We chatted a bit and when I hugged her good bye, I knew with almost certainty that I would never see her again, but that didn’t matter.   I will never forget the joy of her smile and what she reminded me about God’s unconditional love.  I’ve heard said often that when you pour out for God, He will always pour into you.  I was overflowing with the blessings He gave me through my new friend.

…God has put the body together, giving greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other.  If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.  1 Corinthians 12:24-26

My prayer for all of you is that you each find ways to push out of YOUR comfortable box and allow God to bless you in turn!  He WILL pour into you.  His cup never runs out!

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Please note:  If any of you are ever looking for a charity to bless or feel led to donate to a homeless mission, I am including the link to St. Paul's house in NYC.  They are an amazing group of people serving meals 5 days a week to the homeless community, working with youth in NYC and offering bible studies to the community.  They rely primarily on grants and donations to continue serving as they have been doing for 70 years!  There is a tab on their website for donations.  God bless you all!

http://www.saintpaulshouse.org

copyright 2013

To use quotes from this blog,

 please contact author for permission.

Let's Get this Out in the Open

Have you noticed the difference between the flu, pneumonia, cancer and clinical depression?

On Facebook, emails, prayer lists, people are quick to share that "little Johnny has the flu" or ask for prayers for their grandmother with cancer.  We seem to be comfortable sharing and discussing the bout with pneumonia that our great aunt is having.  Depression?  Shhhhh.   Let's just move on.

It seems odd to me that in today's culture where we are more accepting of special needs and challenges, there is still a stigma attached to mental illness.  I truly believe that people's feelings and reactions are attached to the fact that they don't understand mental illness and what we don't understand, we tend to avoid.   As a senior at UNT, I did my research on "Society's Knowledge of Mental Illness."  Almost 20 years later, not much has changed.  There is still a bit of a stigma to anything having to do with the mind.

In honor of my friend, Dr. Paul Bonneau, who took his own life 6 days ago, I want to openly share my own story of my experience with clinical depression.  I am only speculating that that could have added to his reasoning, as I don't have any personal knowledge, but it gives me something to which I can point and explain the unexplainable.

I hope that by writing this, taking a deep breath and clicking the "publish" button on my blog, I will possibly empower someone out there to get help that maybe otherwise might not have.

After graduation from college, the real world confronted me like a linebacker taking out a 3rd string quarterback.  All of a sudden, I was job hunting, lonely, realizing that I had a bachelor's degree in a field that needed a masters and had another career love on top of that.  Things changed a little for the better when I got "A" job (although not "THE" job I wanted) and I met a great guy.  Problem was, the job I had was going nowhere and not in my field of interest and the guy I met still had a year and a half at a college 3 hours away.  My nights were spent alone with I Love Lucy reruns and lots of ice cream and dreams of another life.

I began to realize that the problem was bigger than myself when I started having the digestive problems, lack of energy and sleep issues.  I would bounce between not having an appetite at all to...well, shall we say - digestive problems that required a close restroom.  I had headaches and felt tired ALL THE TIME even though I wasn't doing as much as I had before.  I was still teaching a couple dance classes on the side and found some solace in that, but would come home to the same physically ill feelings I always had.  

I would sit in my car on my lunchbreak and cry.  I would talk to my boyfriend, who would later be my precious husband, and still not find any happiness in life.  Yes, I thought about suicide, but never really  considered it.  I would simply think about how much it would hurt my family and deep down, I STILL saw life as a gift from God even though I wasn't enjoying most of it.  

Two things changed my life.  And they BOTH came from my precious Lord and Savior.

One was Dr. Edward Tuthill who diagnosed my illness.  The other was my precious Dave who led me to Christ.

I came to the point where I had to admit to myself that I needed some help.  I felt physically ill and had no energy ALL the time and yet had nothing wrong that I could pinpoint.  I finally decided to seek help from a psychiatrist.  I knew enough from my psychology minor at UNT to guess what he would tell me - that I was clinically depressed.

I saw Dr. Tuthill often and he prescribed the drug Prozac.  For those who don't know, clinical depression is a true chemical imbalance - low levels of serotonin and norepinephrine.   It is real and affects 3-5% of the population at any one time, according to a Dartmouth University study.  Without getting into the specifics of how the drug works (and showing off my lack of chemical knowledge in the process), we'll just leave it as - it balances out the chemicals in the brain.  And it did.

It made a difference in my body and mind. I began to have a regular appetite and my digestion was way less traumatic, too.  I began to feel my normal level of energy and was able to sleep more regularly.  Now, don't get me wrong - I still felt down at times, but that's the difference.  I went from laying in bed crying for no reason to "feeling a bit down".... a big improvement.

Then, God could do EVEN MORE work in my life.

You see, I believe God heals.  He heals!  He heals in many ways.  I do believe in miraculous healings - they are all throughout the bible and we hear often how doctors "cannot explain" someone's miraculous improvement.  I also believe God heals in other ways.  He has given doctors, nurses - all kinds of medical personnel a knowledge and ability to help their fellow human beings.  He has guided researchers to answers and creations of treatments.  Even sometimes, as hard as it is for us to grasp, death is a way of healing.  God IS in control - I just don't box Him in to the "how" part.  That's His business.

After God led me to seek help for my medical condition, He then went to work on my heart.  Now, this blog is already getting long, so I will just summarize:  He sent an INCREDIBLE man into my life who had a faith and strength of character of none I had known.  My husband brought me back to the church I had begun to avoid, yet had known all my childhood years.  He told me about HIS Jesus and all He had done in his own life.  He took me to bible studies, church events and worship services.  A year later, I chose to rededicate myself to Christ through a believer's baptism.

I was on the medication for about two years - and terrified to take a chance at stopping.  Eventually, I felt I was at a point in my life where I could give it a try and had learned enough along the way to know if I was wrong and would need to go back to the treatment.  Note:  The doctor explained that for many, the duration of treatment is the length of time you have experienced symptoms.

After the treatment, the balance was much better and I have not had problems with clinical depression since those years in my twenties, but I will never forget those experiences, feelings and physical symptoms that were so strong.  I have found a joy in the Lord that gets me through the sadness and "down times", but understand the difference in that and a chemical imbalance that produces an irrational despair that is uncontrollable. 

Our bodies are different.  Look around!  We look different on the outside, why can't we all accept that our brains are different, too?  If the insulin in our body can be different for some people, why can't we understand that the serotonin can be, too, and yet people are more comfortable admitting they've been diagnosed with diabetes, but not with clinical depression.  I think the difference still lies in some people's beliefs that we can CONTROL it.  We cannot.  

We cannot control the chemicals in our brain any more than we can control the flow of our own blood.

I can only offer my story for others to relate and learn.  I believe VERY MUCH in God's ability to take a tragedy, sadness, any negativity and create something positive and good from it.  If God can create the heavens and the earth from nothingness, surely He can take my story and my friend Paul's tragedy and use them to help someone else.

I can be totally honest and say that I wish I had been led to write this story a week ago.  It's normal for people, in light of a tragedy, to question the "should'ves" and the "what ifs."  I just pray that if I can find the courage to actually click the "publish" button above.....maybe my story will help another one of God's children.

Talk about it.

Share about your kiddo with the flu.  Post about your grandmother with pneumonia. Talk about your clincal depression.  Let your friends and family love you through ANY illness.  

Give them that chance.

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Amendment as of Spring 2017:  

I feel it necessary to update this blog, to better understand the continual battle that is depression. In recent years, it became clear to me that the challenge was back.  In thinking of my friend, Paul, I knew I could not ignore what I was feeling.   While the symptoms now are much milder than before, and medication is a great aid, it is a struggle and I accept the fact that it may always be a struggle.  

Anyone in this boat - reach out.  Ask for help.  Make a call.

Psalm 30:2  Lord my God, I called to you for help and you healed me.

Psalm 107:20  He sent out his word and healed them; he rescued them from the grave.

NIV

Resource used:  Dartmouth.edu

A Challenge for Tomorrow

What are you doing tomorrow?

It’s Easter Sunday evening!  Christians everywhere are rejoicing and celebrating our risen Savior.  There is more love, prayers, happiness and well wishes on social media websites, emails, even in person than has been heard and felt in a long time.

What are you doing tomorrow?

Will you maintain that same level of anticipation that you felt early this morning, the joy and happiness that you felt as you worshipped, sang, danced and praised Him in a service at church?  Will you have as many handshakes and hugs for your fellow human beings that you had today, greeting them with a smile and a hearty ‘hello?’

What are you doing tomorrow?

Will you make time for those in need, seeking ways to advance His kingdom with your thankfulness?   Will you make time in your day for the same Savior that you were praising and glorifying today on this of all special days.   Will you make time to read and learn more about His amazing grace and unfathomable love?

What are you doing tomorrow?

Will you be the same person you were today, when love was the focus of everything?  Will you shine the same light that you received so willingly today as you heard of His all encompassing, redeeming love?  Will you BE the love and compassion of Christ that you so heartily wanted to be this morning?

What are you doing tomorrow?

Will you make time tomorrow the same as today?  He's already there waiting for you with open arms.

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A Dance Teacher's View on NOT Bringing "Sexy Back"

Rhinestone bras and short shorts.

People yelling "Work it, Girl."

Songs with lyrics being "beeped out."

Girls running their hand down their leg and puckering.

Am I at a Gentleman's (and I use the term loosely) Club?  Nope.  Sadly, I'm at a dance competition and the young girls in the routines described above are in the 13-14 year old category. 

As a Christian dance studio owner and instructor, my heart breaks when I think of how much the dance world has changed over the past 26 years that I have been teaching - and not for the better, in my humble opinion.  But, then I realize - it isn't just the dance world....it's the REAL world.  

Our society is pushing harder and harder every day to make kids become something they're not: GROWN-UPS.    As a dance instructor and studio owner, I have worked with students, 95% of whom were girls, since I was 15 years old and have seen the trends growing more and more towards a culture where it's acceptable to dress and dance provocatively - even as young as early elementary school age children.   The choreography that would've made ANY audience blush 20 years ago now has parents cheering for their daughter and yelling things like "Work it girl!" and "Sexy!"

Let's just take that one last word, because I hear it a LOT in dance.  Sexy.  Thefreedictionary.com defines the word "sexy" this way:

sexy adj 

1. provoking or intended to provoke sexual interest 

2. feeling sexual interest; aroused

3. interesting, exciting, or trendy

Although I am strongly hoping that these dance parents, teachers and friends who are using this word in conjunction with their child are using the third definition, I question whether this REALLY IS a word that ANYONE would want used in the context of their child.  Should we really hear dance teachers or audience members telling a young teen dancer to "make it sexy" as they perform?  I hope MY dancers do NOT "make it sexy."  We are there to dance, perform, entertain and (something different than many studios), glorify God in our performance.

Now, please don't shut me down and click to the next blog because I mentioned God in this blog.  Although He is the center of my life, I am truly focusing on dance as an art form in a secular world for the purposes of this writing.  Whether Christian, Muslim, Jewish  another faith or absence of a faith, we MUST face the facts that we as a culture are sexualizing our children earlier and earlier.  Do we celebrate abstinence anymore as a nation, or do we simply say it "isn't practical" and write it off as a thing of the past.  Forget celebrating it, can we ACCEPT it as a choice that many people still choose and that's ok?!

I will close with a description of what I saw at one of the last dance competitions my students attended; incidentally, it was a part of this competition that made me feel a blog like this was necessary.

I feel the need to preface this, for the naysayers who will say this is just "sour grapes," with the fact that my girls are very successful at the competitions.  Although competitions are not our main focus, we have won national titles, numerous 1st overalls, high scoring numbers, etc.  This is NOT my attempt to make myself feel better about some loss, nor is this a chance to "toot our horn."  I just want to clear up any misnomers that I have ulterior reasons to write this or am exaggerating.

In February of this year, we attended a popular competition that holds a "Dance Down" at each of their regional events.  They market it as an audition class wherein dancers can learn a combination and audition for various scholarships in different venues.  All of us (parents, teachers, etc) were allowed to stay in our seats in the audience for the entire audition, watching the dancers on the stage, and by the end, I almost cried.  Not because my dancers did poorly - they actually did really well and several were semi-finalists.  The choreography given to the dancers was fine as well - very good technical jazz steps with some challenging turns and leaps and very upbeat.

But before the combination, came the freestyle.

In the dance world, the word "freestyle" simply means improvisation, or "making it up as you go along."  The dancers were asked to freestyle for the first section of the audition and were given free reign to do what came naturally, however, I was NOT prepared for what came naturally to many of these young dancers.  There were a few boys doing hip-hop freestyle, but the young ladies vastly outnumbered the boys and it was many of their improvisational dance that shocked me to the core.

To watch these girls "move naturally" was so revealing of the environments they've had for dance, their choreographic experience, their role models, teachers and even their parenting.  We watched as one girl licked herself, another girl was crawling on the stage edge and reaching out towards the judges very seductively.  Still another girl was rubbing herself all over and gyrating in such a way that I truly began to question for WHAT these girls thought they were auditioning.  I later found out that the last girl mentioned was 16 years old....and did end up winning one of the scholarships.

Why?

Why is this ok for our children?  

For me, it is not.  I have built my studio on the ideals that we will NOT exploit children, that we will NOT create dances that are "sexy" on our children and that lyrics, costuming, choreography and teachers as role models ALL shape the self esteem and general psyche of every child and should therefore be positive and age appropriate.  They will have to be grown-ups soon enough.  Let's let them be kids while they're kids!

My mother told me once that every pendulum swings all the way to one side before it comes back and eventually finds balance.  We are that pendulum and our kids are the ones that are imbalanced.  

Hope it swings back soon.

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