Now we are cat people.

In February we got a kitten, then 10 weeks old.

At $500, the startup costs for this venture were a little daunting and included a hefty pet deposit and increase in rent for our apartment, various supplies, and a sizable "adoption fee" required by the charity we got her from, as nobody else seemed to deal in kittens.

Yeah, she's a rescue cat, as they call them now. This may be virtue signalling, like making sure people know you compost or are deeply committed to recycling. When I was a kid you'd say you'd picked up a stray, and that's probably just how it happened. Made you sound like a bit of a cheapskate or someone who didn't care about quality. I guess things have changed.

Nala is marked by an M on her forehead, as it turns out all true tabbies are. We joke it stands for "Marti's cat."

I'm surprised how quickly I've become Nala's person. Or one of them. I'm afraid we both dote on her quite a bit.

There's something about touch, about the soft fur and all the purring; it meets a need I didn't realize I had. And taking a break from work to play with the cat or do something for her seems to do something for my outlook and energy level, too.

We talk and think about Nala a lot, but it seems to go further than that. We send each other cat comics. We watch cat videos on Facebook. We watched The Lion in Your Living Room, and I went through a whole series on Netflix called Kitten Rescuers. We lurk in the pet section of Walmart or PetSmart, comparing food or litter options.

Perhaps none of this would have happened if Nala was one of those standoffish, disdainful felines. But she's not. She follows us around, wanting to be petted or fed, and dashing ahead when she thinks she knows where we're going. Sometimes her paws or tail get stepped on; no help for it. She doesn't hide or sulk, though... she's right back there looking for attention.

This cat jumps on my desk and walks into my video conferences for work. (It's a little embarrassing, but always makes my coworkers smile.) Nala talks to us. Sleeps on our bed. Plays games with us... like "how high can you jump?" (see picture) "pounce," and "fetch"! (That one took us by surprise.)

Of course, all the kitty love leaves a mark, and not just on my heart. The claws were too small to do harm at first. As the weeks went by that began to change. Soon our furniture was in danger and I was covered with claw marks. Did a bit of research and ended up buying special scissors to trim her claws periodically. She doesn't like it, but my wounds have healed.

This week Nala is six months old. Happy half-birthday, kitten!

Identity Shifts

My decision to get married a few years ago brought with it a whole kit and caboodle of new identities. I became not just a wife, but a seminary student wife, fire department wife, and guy-with-a-host-of-health-issues wife, as well as a parent. And not just a parent but a swim team, water polo, band, and Boy Scout parent. And as a stepmom, I lurked somewhat in the shadows on those parenting roles, not feeling the full weight of them but also unable to confidently take a place among the moms because the kids already had a mom and she was probably there too. A relief in some ways; a tension in others.

All these new roles might have helped me make friends. That sort of happened. But the circumstances were stacked against me; my background and interests were generally quite different from those of the people in the circles where this new life has taken me. It was hard to find  common ground. I often felt I didn't have time for friends and/or I couldn't be a good friend because I had all these things I had to do with or for my new family, including getting dinner on the table every night and trying to put in a full week of work (not always successfully).

Now Chris is done with seminary. This week he leaves the job that has sucked so much life out of him, and he'll be leaving the fire department soon, too. And his health is pretty good now. We won't have any kids living at home, since home, in its previous sense, is no more. Swim team and water polo are behind us, and we'll be 3,0000 miles away from any band concerts or Boy Scout events... and from the regular round of Wade family birthday and holiday gatherings too.

Yup, just over three years into parenting, I'm an empty-nester! Sometimes I joke about that because I know how funny it sounds. But it's weird funny as well as ha-ha funny. I feel some of the same mix of grief and relief, pride and concern, that "real" parents feel about having the kids out of the house. I'm kind of used to Haley doing her own thing, but I don't want to say goodbye to Daniel!

What will the next year or so mean for me in terms of identity? I'll still be a wife and parent, of course, but the job descriptions are quickly changing and the emotional price tag, which had been so high, has just been drastically reduced. My social calendar is practically empty! But I can have friends again, right? At least theoretically? I know, it's not automatic, and I'll still be working full-time and going to school. But I'm praying for a good friend or several. A supportive small group. A church where I can serve and connect with people in more meaningful ways than of late, and yes, maybe even a book club.

Back to School

The back-to-school season is upon us. Yes, I'm back at it, too; a generous gift will cover my tuition this year. Thankful for that, but cognizant of the time and energy it takes to work and go to school while serving and supporting a family all doing the same.

I did the first week's work of my online class last Sunday before leaving on a business trip and used a comp day on my return to get week two done; from here on out, though, we'll settle into a pattern of schoolwork every Saturday.

Hubs is driving to Portland on Mondays, now, for the final stretch on his M.Div. Daughter Haley is back at college in California. Son Daniel hasn't started classes yet, but he made it to the 5:30 am polo-team practices this week (!) and has his first pep rally with the band tonight. Monday night he goes back to his mom's place for the next two weeks, ready to register Tuesday and start actual classes on Wednesday. Senior year. Both Chris and Daniel graduate in June! Haley and I will finish a year later.

On Monday I snapped a picture of Chris heading off to class with his backpack, but he didn't want to see it posted on the internet. What, no more back-to-school photos when you're 45?!

See, though, 20 photos of kids' journeys to school from around the world (Global Citizen). 

Children are accompanied on their walk to school through Guizhou Province, China 

Flickr: Jeff Werner

For similar content, see:
25 Photos That Reveal The Shocking Dangers Some Children Risk To Reach School

Pretty things, painful memories, and how I was surprised by wholeness

Shortly before Chris and I got married I went back to Denver to help my old housemate pack up and prepare to move out of the place we'd shared for fifteen years or so. She had been there longer than I had and faced some serious and painful downsizing. Her grandmother's china was on the got-to-go list. She offered it to me.

I was touched by the offer of these treasures and the chance to carry on some of her family history. I didn't take the boxes with me, though, since I was flying. Instead I left them for the moving truck.

We said goodbye, and I returned to Oregon to continue the task of setting up my own new household, itself complicated by the realization that Chris and I had rather different preferences for – well, almost everything, it seemed. We both had sacrifices to make. The wedding registry process was rough. Neither one of us wanted to fight about things like dishes and towels – or wedding music and decorations, for that matter – when there were so many more important things to work out. But we were mystified by each other's preferences in each of those areas and more. I ended up taking back quite a few of the wedding presents one of us said we wanted but the other didn't like. We defaulted to what was functional and plain.

I'm not really a girly girl but was sad to have so few pretty things, and to realize that many of the pretty things I already have would probably have to stay in boxes until, maybe someday, we get a bigger place, or don't have any kids at home.

Some months after the wedding, my roommate's sister had to make a trip to Eugene and brought me the three boxes of china. She also gave me some disturbing news about my old roommate, now living with their mother in Washington. It had been a tough transition for her. As I soon discovered, the china hadn't fared well, either. I opened the first box and unwrapped a few things. How did so many of them get broken? I must have thrown some things away, then, but I pushed the boxes back and decided to deal with them later.

Later finally came just last week. Chris and Daniel were both away for the night. I steeled myself for what I thought would be a depressing task, another scene of pain, disappointment, brokenness.

But it was not. I didn't find a single broken piece of broken china, just one after another that was beautiful and whole!

What had happened? I briefly imagined that Someone had worked a frivolous miracle on my behalf, but I suppose it's more likely that I had thrown away the only broken pieces the first time I opened the boxes, not realizing the rest were just fine.

I was further surprised to realize, as I surveyed our kitchen, that I would not have to re-pack the boxes and return them to the garage. Our spacious kitchen has room. So I began using the most serviceable looking pieces, like the cups that aren't paper-thin and edged with gold! Who knows, maybe I'll have some reason to get out the really fancy ones now and again, too. (Like a visit from my old roommate, who I'm glad to say is doing much better. She mostly just needed the time to grieve and adapt.)

Looking back on those days, two years ago, when Chris and I were struggling to furnish the house, I realize how far we've come in appreciating each other's values, preferences, and perspectives. Sometimes we are even able to find things both of us like! Moreover, love continues to cover: we like to please each other, and that goes a long way to producing kindness, respect, and forbearance. There are lots of things I now do or think about his way, and things he does or thinks about my way. Marriage is certainly harder than living with a roommate. The stakes are higher. But, with time and patience, we're learning how to walk together.

The morning after I unpacked the china, I made breakfast for us both and served it on our "new" plates. I knew better than to offer him tea or coffee in these lovely little cups; he's not a hot-drink kind of guy and wouldn't have much use for cups that only hold a few ounces. But I'll enjoy them. And I suspect he will enjoy seeing me enjoy them, too. 

Sandwiches

This morning I made Daniel a couple of peanut butter sandwiches. Haven't done that in a while.  But it got me thinking about the social dynamics around this simple act.

When Chris and I were dating, I was a little horrified that he made his kids' lunches. Usually breakfast too. And though his mother, who they lived with, often made dinner, Chris showed himself more than adequate to take care of that as well. On one hand, part of me secretly hoped that after we were married he would serve me (and the kids) in those same ways, and sometimes he has. But I knew it was more likely that those kind of responsibilities would shift to my shoulders. As that happened I've received it with mixed feelings. I enjoy many of the tasks of housekeeping, but I'm a professional with a full-time job, too, and it's hard to do both. 

In my family where I grew up, making your own lunch was like making your own bed - a sign that you were a responsible person - or deciding what to wear - not something you'd want to delegate to another. It was your lunch, not your mom's lunch, and you should make it.

Turns out, in the family I married into, making your kid's lunch was a way to say "I'm here for you. And I love you."

It's hard to let go of one story and accept another, or accept both of them as valid. I'm regularly surprised and disappointed how much my self-righteousness asserts itself to defend my preferences, my ways, my ideas about how things are done or what they mean.

But I love Daniel, and not just because I love Chris. And I've recognized one way of showing it is to feed him.

Family dynamics have shifted, and Daniel usually makes his own sandwiches now. But I've learned to make them the way he likes them, as I did today. A thin layer of peanut butter on both pieces of bread, carefully spread to the edges. Generous layer of jelly or honey on top of that. Some assembly required, but no slicing. (That surprised me: I remembered that my dad always sliced sandwiches on the diagonal, my mom on the horizontal. Yet here was another option!)

In her book, Loving Someone Else's Child, author Angela Hunt says that stepfamilies, despite their problems, can give kids some unexpected benefits. A larger/blended family includes "more people with diverse personalities and styles and backgrounds and so there are more sources of social and cognitive stimulation for kids. In the long run, kids in stepfamilies could be developing more effective ways of dealing with a greater variety of people..."

"Children with 'step-in' parents usually have multiple role models. They will observe different parenting techniques and will have more models from which to choose when they are parents someday... they learn that it pays to be flexible."

In the long run, set-in-their-ways stepmoms may experience the same benefits, too! 

2013 Santa Clara Fire Department's Volunteer of the Year

Serving with our local volunteer fire department costs Hubs - and costs our family - a lot. It can also be quite rewarding. Sometimes at the same time. We were dismayed when the pager went off just before a big family dinner Christmas Eve. Minutes later Chris was saving the life of someone else's wife, mother, and grandmother, not returning until she was in the capable hands of the ER doctors and staff. Somehow after that opening Christmas presents did not seem such a big deal. He came back reeling from the tsunami wave and trough of adrenaline that comes at such times. When we fell into bed after the candlelight service that night, we were both exhausted, thinking about and praying for the other family and wondering if they'd have a greater loss before morning.

This Saturday was the annual awards banquet for the fire department. Had a hunch Hubs would be honored. Indeed he was. There's a nice plaque to hang on the wall, with his name added to one that hangs in the station. There were pictures and lots of hugs. A shoot for promotional photos is scheduled for next week. Long, loud, standing ovation. Lots of people came up to us that night to say they thought the recognition was a long time coming.

Last year's Volunteer of the Year, a good friend, read the following kind and honoring comments before presenting the award to him [edited slightly for clarity and a more general audience]:

It is my honor and pleasure to announce the 2013 Santa Clara Fire Department's Volunteer of the Year. It is something we all look forward to each year as it represents why many of us do what we do as volunteer firefighters and EMTs in our community. We work hard, and this is a very special opportunity to thank and praise someone special for their dedication and hard work in department. The award represents a wonderful appreciation and honor from your colleagues and your peers.

Our Volunteer of the Year is decided upon by the three preceding Volunteers of the Year. When we sat down to decide who it was going to be, there was no conversation or doubt as to who it was.

This volunteer has been unwavering in their dedication to our department since [he] joined us in 2007. Statistics and numbers can mean a lot; and if you look at this volunteer's numbers, they speak for themselves.* [He has] been in the top five responders every year since he joined, and rarely misses a drill. [He] will come down for calls in the middle of the night, on the weekends, middle of family dinners, and early mornings.

This year's Volunteer of the Year does something very special for our department and our community that sets him apart: he serves as our department chaplain. He stays with family members after a difficult call where a patient dies or suffers traumatic injury. He offers a shoulder to cry on for wives who have just lost their husband or comforts a parent as we take care of their sick child. He prays with people when they need a prayer. These duties often leave him on the scene of a call long after us other responders leave and go back to our homes and our families; he stays.

He also offers support and friendship to all of us here at SCFD. He has a talent for keeping an eye out for our well being and offering an ear if we need to talk about a difficult call we have been on.

I should also mention that this year's Volunteer of the Year has done all of this all while working a full-time job, being a father to his children, and a husband to his wife. This person included a special part of his wedding ceremony to "turn in" his pager to our Chief so he could spend extra time with his new bride … But I remember pretty clearly that we had a house fire the next weekend [after he was back], and lo and behold, when we came out of the fire, there he was running our rehab unit. And to top it all off, he is also is nearly done with his Master’s Degree in Clinical Chaplaincy.

Now that I think we all know who I am talking about. It is my honor to announce Chris Wade as Santa Clara Fire Department's 2013 Volunteer of the Year.

Congratulations, Chris!

* In 2013 Chris responded to 244 9-1-1 calls.

The weird world of stepparenting

Is any of this OK for a stepparent to say? Maybe it's
not ideal for a parent, either!

If someone were to tell you they never yell at their kids or speak harshly to them, you'd wouldn't think them completely honest, would you?

But being a step-parent, loving someone else's child, is a different kind of relationship than parenting, and exercising power and discipline (except over oneself) are really not part of the job description. Certainly, losing your temper or exerting your will (because "I am your mother") seems really inappropriate, along with parenting "techniques" like nagging, giving commands, issuing ultimatums or punishments, and withholding privileges. I don't recall either of my stepparents doing those things either, ever, at least not with me. (Though I'm aware of a few times they pulled such strings through my parents.)

And for their part, my stepkids are almost unfailingly polite to me. That's also how I tend to respond to them, as well as to my own stepparents. Eye-rolling, sarcasm, and battles of the will seem saved for the parents-in-the-flesh, if they are around.

Might be different if the kids were younger or living with us full-time. But signing up to marry someone with teenagers seems to mean seeking to be their ally. And, to the extent they welcome it, friend. Maybe that's a better job description than a parent gets, though it's certainly a less intimate one. I will never experience the contrast for myself, and I don't know what kind of ("real") parent I would be if I had the chance.

Don't get me wrong, things aren't bad in our house or in my relationships with the kids. But it feels like as a stepmom I'm simply not allowed to be mad at them (and show it) the way one does with a spouse, sibling, or parent. Nor can I discuss them with my husband the way I might they were "ours" in the traditional sense. Complaining to him about his daughter would be like complaining to him about his mother, not a good idea - better to listen supportively to any of his frustrations, but keep my own opinions more or less to myself.

So being a stepparent is a weird thing. It tries to tie the hands and make you bite your tongue. Our relationships are marked less by the tough love of family, more by the service and civility of  housemates, coworkers, or friends. Perhaps that's a good thing. The challenge of being a mother is not one for me, but I know how to be a good housemate, coworker, and friend.

Denver Interlude and Holiday Plans

A recent trip to Florida for meetings offered me the chance to stop and spend time in Colorado, my old stomping ground, on the way home. There I did for the first time something I've been doing for almost 20 years on trips to Washington - I set up about a dozen appointments for lunch, dinner, or coffee as a means of strengthening relationships with supporters and significant friends. It's the first time I've made a trip like that to Colorado, though, in the two years since I moved away.

The family I invited myself to stay with (!) seemed a little bemused by this process... it being, I suppose, an unusual one. I'd been doing this for so many years I'd sort of forgotten how much our culture has shifted and how busy people's lives have become. Making time to get together with a friend - one with whom your paths might not naturally cross - is a luxury many cannot afford.

I'm glad - grateful - that it's actually part of my job to do this. It's one of the best ways folks who follow this full-time ministry lifestyle can ensure they are not forgotten but still have relationships back "home" (and hopefully prayer and financial support when that is needed as well).

During the several days I spent in Denver, I ran into and/or remembered others I'd love to catch up with, too. From that vantage point, continuing the process seemed do-able. Now that I'm back in Oregon, with all the responsibilities for work, house, family, and school settling back around my shoulders, I have a harder time picturing myself do this. I haven't even returned messages received from some of those I began to pursue but was not able to see.

One person I met with is a good friend who is single, and who as we spoke alluded to the awkwardness she feels about this week's Thanksgiving holiday. It hasn't been that long; how could I have forgotten what it's like to be single on Thanksgiving? Wondering where you will go, who will invite you and when... the delicate process of answering the inquiries of others when you are not sure they are about to extend an offer or, not interested in accepting it!

The question would come up at church or the office: "What are you doing for Thanksgiving? You'd be welcome to join us if you have no other place to go!" Usually I received several offers on those unflattering terms. Maybe I could go one place for dinner, and drop in elsewhere for pie and coffee? Would that be too weird? Would I feel like the pathetic add-on person and wish I'd skipped the whole thing and just stayed home?

My marriage has generally made my life more complicated, but it does simplify and answer the question of who I'll be with on the holidays. This year's Thanksgiving feast is conveniently close - as will be, I imagine, every holiday that we stay in Eugene. No need to go over the river or through the woods: Grandma Wade lives less than ten blocks away.

I'm a little more bent toward variety than tradition, but tradition wins this time. And I'll include some of my own favorite traditions though they differ from those of my new family. I'll make pumpkin pie from scratch and watch the Macy's parade. And this year I'll try to practice an unholiday-like moderation, as well, as I continue to diet. The pounds and inches are not melting off very quickly, I admit. But I do feel better and am managing to keep the doctor's orders fairly well. When I go see her again next year, I hope there will be less of me.

Restraint has an appeal all its own. It offers a simplicity and clarity which feasting cannot offer. This time of year I often think of my first Thanksgiving in Eugene way back in college days, which began with the usual feast but was followed by three days of ramen and apple slices. I suppose that even that year, the Wade family was gathered almost ten miles north of me in the big house where we'll go this Thursday.

Some thoughts about divorce

I've been thinking about the uneven treatment given to single moms and single dads. I wonder how much our culture's growing respect and support for single moms as victim/heroes increases the tendency of frustrated women to desert their husbands and leave their marriages. Because, for whatever reason or reasons, almost all divorce proceedings in America are initiated by women. Offering support to divorced or divorcing women is better than stigmatizing them, to be sure, but there must be a way to be supportive of women and of marriage, too?

In relatively few cases does it seem appropriate to ask why someone isn't married anymore. Is it anybody else's business, after all? Usually the answer is no. But that doesn't mean people don't make assumptions. And more often than not, I think the assumption about a single mom is that she was in a bad marriage or relationship and he left her. Or even if she did the leaving, things were so bad it's a good thing she got out... she'd taken as much as she could from him, she gave it her best go while he was blind to her needs. That's the story I hear a lot of women tell. So we all need to gather round her and the kids and help them out. So she's the victim, or she's the hero, or both. That storyline rings true for some single moms, to be sure. Maybe a lot of them. Many of them lose tremendously in a divorce and never make up the ground.

But what this cost us, as a society? I keep coming across women who left their marriages without much justification and are being honored by others for their decision to stand up for themselves and go the single-mom route. And I think that's a problem because of the effect that it has on their husbands, kids, the grandparents who end up pick up the pieces and paying the bills, and the other women who watch and get misleading ideas about what marriage is supposed to be and what smart choices look like. Because while being married is a struggle, divorce has a viciously high price tag of its own, and many a bad marriage can turn into a good one with the passing of years.

It used to bug me when I'd hear about all these church outreaches to single moms. As a single woman who never had children I was a little jealous of how much people would bend over to help single moms. After all, I was all alone, didn't make that much money either, and I could use help with car repairs and yard work, too! Why the breaks for women who got pregnant? Now that I've had a taste of parenting I think I understand a little better.

In marrying a single dad, I've seen how the narrative about single moms affects the single dads. After his wife deserted their marriage, C. discovered how much people in the community – and, especially, the church – respond to divorced men with subtle suspicion. People treated him differently. As if he must love the kids less, have abused or betrayed his wife, been the one who abandoned them, and who perhaps continues to neglect as much as ever or more. The way people treat a single dad suggests a belief if a man is divorced, it must be because he blew it. Is that what they think?

Divorced or divorcing women don't get that same message. They are treated given the benefit of the doubt, supported, rallied around. With some girl-power thinking thrown in for extra measure. Not that I want them demonized, but what about defending husbands and fathers, or at least dropping this prejudice and discrimination against them? Many a single dad may be struggling to get by, deeply committed to his kids and making sacrifices to serve them, and just as frustrated by the shuttling back and forth, shared holidays, and tensions over differing values between two households.

I was quite mindful of those stereotypes myself. I asked a lot of questions before I was willing to get serious about C. I didn't say yes to him until I was satisfied. Some of the people who didn't get to hear the answers for themselves remained a little worried and afraid on my behalf.

All this suggests to me that many people don't believe in no-fault divorce as much as they may claim. They suspect he betrayed her or drove her to leave him, that he is more to blame. Why is that? Is there any way we can say whether one party is more to blame than the other? If not, why this prejudice? If so, is it "true" in any objective or measurable sense that men are worse at marriage and parenting, or more to blame for divorce, than women are?

Adjusting to a New Normal - Family Life

Mother's Day approacheth. The first one I've encountered since taking on a maternal role, even a hyphenated one. As a new step-mother to teens, I'm a backup assistant parent at best. But I work at home and my husband has a busy and unpredictable schedule, one that seldom allows him to keep any consistent family commitments. So I'm also a default housewife. That's added plenty of chauffeuring and planning and shopping and cooking and cleaning to my life, especially during the weeks D. is with us. Yes, I know, I have it much easier than most "real" moms. And I'm still able to get my work done and keep up with my grad school classes.

This combination, though, leaves little or no margin for any interests of my own. I've virtually stopped reading and writing for pleasure (both lifelong habits), and I seem to have given up maintaining my friendships or developing new ones as well, a significant loss. My husband is just as surprised as I am to see those things go, and worried. He didn't want to see our marriage cost me like this, and he wonders how much my wounds are self-inflicted. I'm not sure, myself. It's good to stop and remember that even though the wife, stepmother, and housekeeper roles are the newest ones I've taken on, I made the decision myself not to quit my job or drop out of school (and not to sacrifice family life to make ongoing spiritual or relational commitments at this time, as much as I mess them). If my plate is too full, I can take responsibility for that and not treat it as something that was done =to= me.

It's also been a relief just to let go of what expectations I can and accept the new normal. While it lasts. There will be another new normal after D. leaves for college, after C. finishes seminary, and we'll probably be moving away in a few years. While this is a challenging season, it's also a gift. We haven't lost any parents yet. We still have the kids around. In years to come that is going to change.

The depth of my cross-cultural know-how and experience has been very helpful. I know what it is to lay down my identity, to become, at best 75% of who I thought I was, and maybe much less to start with. But to discover, with surprise, ways to become a new person who may even fit into the new culture at nearly that 75% level - in time, a 150%, bi-cultural person. Joining a family seems much like moving to a new country.

There is something to be said for starting marriage before tackling parenting. I can see the wisdom in waiting a while. Yet marrying into motherhood, and with kids not yet full-grown, also has its benefits, and it's good to stop and reflect on them. For example it's much easier for me to enjoy and relate to D. as a real person than as an extension of myself, as so many parents do. Things are simpler, cleaner, than if he were my biological child. We're "family," but I can be a friend in a way that his parents cannot, not yet... even if the complex, intimate connection he has with them is not something I can experience.

A sincere affection for D. has grown up within me. I desire to do anything I can for him, to enjoy and protect and provide for him, to cheer him on. I don't feel anxious or need to pressure him to turn into a certain kind of person. I want him to be who he is, to become who he needs to become. I actually find it easier to give him my loyalty and expect the best from him than I do with his father, my husband -- whom I can't seem to avoid treating as "an extension of myself," a man whose values, preferences, and choices feel like a threat when they clash with my own.

So how are we celebrating mother's day weekend? By sending D. back to his mom for the next couple weeks. It's appropriate that he be there for mother's day, and it will be nice to have a breather, after. This two-week period included the adjustment to D's recent decision to stop eating meat. It's been hard enough budgeting, shopping, and cooking for our conflicting needs and preferences without this additional restriction, and I did not take the change very well. I think I'm OK with it now. When D. returns, we'll have a few weeks of getting up at 5am to get him to water polo practice (after which, thankfully, he'll be on summer schedule, which runs a bit later. Practice will be on the other side of town then, but he plans to bike it when he can).

It's a relief to be traveling on my birthday (coming up on four years in a row). In the same way, it's a relief not to have the kids around on mother's day. Dispels ambiguity. I don't need to think about the day being about me in any way. I can look forward to a good chat with my mom, probably touch base with my stepmom as well - I have a new appreciation! - and enjoy a day with my mother-in-law.

"Artificial Maturity"

Recently had a Twitter conversation with a new follower who referred me to a book that looks interesting. Tim Elmore has been involved in youth ministry for a number of decades. I've used some of his material in the past. His new book is Artificial Maturity: Helping Kids Meet the Challenge of Becoming Authentic Adults. Here's part of an interview with the author (posted on Amazon).

* * * 

Q: What caused you to write the book Artificial Maturity?

A: As I concluded my research for the book Generation iY, I began seeing so many students who were beginning well—then not finishing—in school, work, sports, and other areas. Adults assumed they were mature and ready for a task or commitment, but unfortunately, they were not. I compare it to “fools gold.” It looks real, but it's just an illusion.

Q: What exactly is “artificial maturity”?

A: Artificial Maturity is the result of two realities in our culture today:

• Kids are over-exposed to information…far earlier than they are ready.
• Kids are under-exposed to real-life experiences…far later than they’re ready.

This over-exposure, under-exposure enables them to appear very smart, savvy or confident, but [they] may lack emotional maturity, life skills or wisdom that comes in time.  

Q: Describe the world that kids are living in today. Do the challenges override the opportunities?

A: A shift has taken place between early Generation Y and later Generation Y kids. Although born perhaps less than a decade apart, there are measurable differences:

Early Generation Y (Born in 1980s)

• Highly compassionate
• Technology is a tool
• Activists (They are passionate)
• Civic-minded
• Ambitious about future
• Accelerated growth 

 Generation iY (Born since 1990)

• Low empathy
• Technology is an appendage…
• Slack-tivists (They are “fashionate”)
• Self-absorbed
• Ambiguous about future
• Postponed maturation

Q: What are some key steps that need to be taken for artificial maturity to evolve into authentic maturity?

A: Adults must perform some balancing acts with kids, helping them balance autonomy and responsibility; information and accountability; screen time and face-time (in-person experiences); community service opportunities with self-service time. Two examples are:

1. We must be leaders who are both responsive and demanding. We must offer support but also enforce standards. I describe this type of leader as a velvet-covered brick: soft and supportive on the outside but strong and principle-centered on the inside. We must balance tough and tender leadership.
2. We must relay messages early and later in their childhood and adolescence:

Early Messages (First ten years)

• You are loved
• You are unique
• You have gifts
• You are safe
• You are valuable

  Later Messages (Next ten years)

• Life is difficult
• You’re not in control
• You’re not that important
• You’re going to die
• Your life is not about you

* * *

Readers, what do you think about these ideas?

The distinction between children of the 80's and those of the 90's seems harsh, but (if accurate) may explain why so many young folks lack the passion and people skills I thought their generation was supposed to have. At the same time, I look in the mirror and my "emotional intelligence" is not what it could be. Often my fairly high level of self-awareness holds me back rather than empowering me to respond with maturity; I pick up on things and get upset about them but don't translate the insight or energy into a positive, helpful response.

I have a hunch we all have imbalances like those Elmore describes. Are they more or different among today's young people?

It seems an all-too-common flaw to measure others' journeys by our own, e.g., expecting them to know or do things at the same ages that we did. Both our kids are confident and accomplished in things I never would have tried (and, yeah, would tend not to value), but then they lack what seem to me "basic" skills. Don't get me wrong - I think our kids are great. But I'm still in step-parent culture shock and there are some things about their lives and the way they've been raised that I find hard to accept.

Our son has had his first girlfriend but asked me the other day for help defining what nouns and adjectives were. I think I owe him an apology for expressing too much surprise over his challenges in English class. After all, I well remember my mother's horror when I was his age and did not know my multiplication tables -- as well as the questions (not from my parents, but other friends and family) about how late and little I "dated." What is normal, anyway? Sometimes Hubs and I seem worlds apart on the question. I want to do a better job picking my battles, though. Sometimes it's easy, like accepting the new (to me) way "our family" makes peanut-butter sandwiches. Other times it's more upsetting, like the way "our family" sees adolescent dating.

Perhaps the journey to maturity is one with a variety of routes? 

Do you see a shift between early and late GenY? Do you agree with Elmore's description of this shift? What about his suggestions for how adults should respond?

Top Ten Taxonomy

I wrote this for my last newsletter and got some great responses... so I thought I'd repost it here. 

Sometimes when I’m working with an ethnographic research team I ask them to brainstorm a list. What are the top ten things they are learning about their host culture? Or, better yet, what are the top mental categories in the minds of ordinary people in that culture? What do their lives revolve around, and what do they focus on and talk about? We build a taxonomy of what seem to be the most important things, maybe the things we most need to understand to “get” how the people think and how the community works.

What kinds of things do you think would make the cut if the list was about you? What do you treasure most, and how does that play out in your day-to-day priorities? In what ways are the people around you the same as you? How are they different? It’s hard to even think in such terms if we have never known anything else. We may just take it for granted that the way we see and navigate the world is the way everybody else does (or ought to).

As a single person living more than 1000 miles from my nearest relation – and with a call on my life closely tied up with the kind of work I do – I have to confess that in many seasons “family” barely made the top 10 on my priority list. Oh, I loved my parents and my sister, but our lives were really not all that intertwined. Work, church, and friendships generally came first. Quests for personal fulfillment, inner peace, and the chance to read just one more chapter of my latest book may have rated even higher. And, to be honest, some simple pleasures like hot showers, coffee, sunshine, exercise, and a good night’s sleep also made the list. Walking with God was priority, if not always at the top; it’s what made all the other pieces work and gave them significance.

Looking at ordinary people in my own culture as well as Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, and all kinds of people around the world, I realize how unusual my life has been.

Now I’m married. Now I have a family. Amazing. Who ever thought? The blessings catch me by surprise. Yet so do the responsibilities. Things from Chris’s priority list, or Daniel’s, have to find a place on mine. All I need to do is compromise a bit; it shouldn’t be that hard. But I seem to be out of practice! I never understood how questions like who does the dishes or which way we fold the towels could be such flashpoints in a new marriage, but now I think I get it. Sometimes it feels like my whole way of life is in danger and hangs on things like what kind of light bulbs we use and who decides. One more way I have to change or adjust feels like it will be the final straw. 

I feel pretty ridiculous for responding that way. Guess it’s like the difference between visiting another culture and buying a one-way ticket. I wonder how long it will take for me to get used to this. What would it look like to put family first? How will this play out in the years to come?

If you can remember what it was like to adjust to marriage, I’d love to hear your story. Thanks for praying for us, too. We really appreciate it!

>> See this helpful article: Marriage: The First Year.

Summer Schedule in a House with Teenagers

I was looking forward with gratitude to finishing school for the year - and C. and the kids being done, too. What a blessing to be able to start life together without the work and stress that comes from all four of us having long hours and homework. What I did not realize was that the change of seasons would bring a new commitment - and even after C's contribution, one that takes a good 2-3 hours of my time, every day.

Yup. I'm the taxi service. Both kids are working (different) 2-3 hour shifts for the park service (he's a rookie lifeguard, she's a swim instructor). Neither one has a driver's license, though our girl, H., hopes to get hers soon and has friends who bring her back to us each evening. Our boy, D., strives to make swim practice twice a day and the morning practice is clear on the other side of town - unfortunately not so conveniently timed that I can take him there and stick around to enjoy the adjacent coffee shop, or run errands.

There are a few up-sides to all this back and forth. It forces me to stay organized enough to make the most of the windows of work time that remain. And it allows me some low-key, one-on-one time with each of the kids.

As might be expected, attempts to introduce a bit more job-sharing on the cooking and cleaning chores so I can get more of my work done have seen mixed results. I know most of my friends who are "working moms" have been doing this juggling act all along. It's new to me. And only every other week. So what I'm going to try to do is work 50 hours a week when the kids are with their mom, and 30 when they're with us. We'll see how it goes.

Never a Mommy

I find myself in an interesting spot, getting ready to marry a guy named "Dad." I mean, that's one of his names, and since he's had it for almost 18 years he's pretty accustomed to it. The kids have never known him any other way. Most of his friends and family members probably take it for granted that a dad is what he "is."

So what will it mean to be a dad's wife? Of course it will make me a stepmother. As the experts say (and my own experience teaches me), that's the kind of role you have to grow into. The kids seem pretty much OK with me but it may well  be years after the ceremony before they drop the mental note that "she's not really family." We'll see. I don't want to be maudlin or impatient about it; it's only fair.

I'm also thankful that they are well supplied when it comes to family relationships. They have a mother, grandmothers, an aunt or two, teachers, coaches, and more. So it's not like I have some big gap to fill. They don't need me for anything; whatever love or help or encouragement I have to offer may just be icing on the cake. That's kind of a relief. Plus I have the example of my own stepmother. Following in her footsteps, I think, will take me far.

One of my concerns since the beginning of this relationship has been how to deal with the knowledge that I don't really know what I'm doing. Marriage? Parenting? Sex? I haven't had the class; I don't have the years of training and experience under my belt. I have lots of other life skills, but am way behind  most of my peers on these things! I'm never going to catch up.

I do find it helpful, however, to count my blessings in this matter. I've had decades to pursue other interests. I have a broad - if sometimes not too deep - network of friends and acquaintances to turn to for help and encouragement. And by the grace of God that includes many dear people who want to see me do well and who are now reaching the stage in life where their lives no longer revolve around all those young-family issues that I missed out on. They have more time and energy - and notably, more wisdom - to help out an old friend like me as I begin exploring what is to me, brand new territory. 

Chris can't have any more children. I have always felt a bit ambiguous about the question, myself - certainly not so gung-ho as to pursue motherhood by any means and at any cost, as some feel led to do. Now it's pretty clear to me that even though I'm marrying a guy named Dad, I will never be a mommy.

As good as the mommy-life can be - as much as it can do to shape a woman's life and character and nurture the next generation - I think maybe it's God's mercy that this challenge is not mine. We'll be able to sleep through the night and pay the bills and have plenty of time and energy to serve each other and other people. Including his two mostly grown children. And while I'll never get to hold my baby in my arms, the grandmother thing? That could still happen and probably will.

For someone who's never been a mommy, what a gift.

Considering the Roads Less Taken

Every so often someone will ask me if I've ever thought about adopting a child and becoming a single mother. Happened again on Sunday.

This is so much less appealing than the still-conceivable idea (please forgive the pun) of getting lucky and skipping straight to grandmotherhood that it tends to shake off the layer of self-pity I wear at times on account of having somehow ended up on the road less taken and missing out on what is apparently life's greatest joy: being a mom.

Whew, that's a long sentence. But it's a complex issue. I can joke about all this easily enough, but shoot, when my period was two weeks late this month - and not because I might be pregnant; I know that much about the birds and the bees - I felt a bit of panic: what, could it be too late? Is it all over for me? What's next, hot flashes? A bad back? Have I broken the biological mandate? Have I made a terrible mistake and missed what I was made for?

But back to adoption. While you don't have to pass a test or complete an internship to become a biological parent, to adopt, you do. I'm pretty sure they set the bar too high for the likes of me. I'm alone, don't have a place of my own, lack parents or siblings nearby to pitch in, and take home a salary that works for me but would probably look pathetic to the people who evaluate these things. Also, even though I like to be around kids I have little experience caring for them, much less the knack or demonstration of investment in child-rearing that I suspect the adoption-patrol would be looking for in releasing a precious child into someone's scare. Oops, I meant to type "care."    

What if I had a husband who was willing to start a family with me, one way or the other? Still not something to enter into lightly, not for the first time, when you're in your 40s. So unless God spoke to me directly about it, I would not voluntarily become a single mother. I know there are some who can. I just don't think I'm one of them.

Question: Would you ever consider adoption? Even if you were single? Why or why not?

Gender and Priorities

I recently read a statement from leaders of a rather conservative mission agency written to explain their values and priorities. Under the headline, "We value and support the role of women," they wrote,

"We believe that a mother’s responsibility is to God first, to family next, and then to outside ministry." 

I think that's great.

But it bothered me that they didn't say the same about the responsibility of a father. Am I being idealistic to expect that putting one's family above one's work might be a calling to dads as well as to moms?

All of These Kids Are Not Like the Others

"Nobody feels normal!"

That's what my friend E. said to her eight-year-old daughter, A., who had been complaining about her family not being like other families. A's parents are divorced, and she has a stepmother, and maybe someday she'll have a stepfather too. "Why can't we be normal?!" she asked her mom. "Normal" kids apparently have parents who are still together.

Two thoughts came to mind when E. told me about this conversation. The first was surprise: What decade is this kid living in that she thinks staying married is the normal thing for parents to do? Surely if she looks around at the other kids she knows she'll see other families split up.

Of course having your parents be divorced is a drag. I can relate. I found it just as upsetting.

But I don't remember thinking it made us "different," and I was growing up a couple decades earlier.

Being a latchkey kid? Now that was normal.

E. and I met right before eighth grade, just when my parents were getting their divorce. As much as I loved E.'s family - and continue to - I thought it was a little weird that her dad worked in the same place all his life and her mom stayed home taking care of kids and they never moved and they never got divorced.

My other response was empathy. I've felt how A. does. About my family, about other things as well: Why can't we be normal? Or, why can't we be the way I want us to be? What's with my life, why isn't it like other people's? Why didn't I get married and have kids like everybody else? What am I doing alone? What am I doing with my life?

In this season of deliberately questioning everything, I've asked those questions again. It's been nice to have a safe place to ask them, to ask them on purpose in the daylight with other people to discuss them with instead of having them sneak up on me in the middle of the night when I'm vulnerable and alone.

I thought E.'s exasperated response to her daughter was spot on. I mean, I don't know if it worked for A. Maybe she needed a different kind of reassurance. A hug. And so on. But instead she got the kind of answer my own mother would have given, were I falling into some petulant bout of self-pity. And maybe it's an answer I needed to hear, too. Here's what E. said:

"Honey, nobody feels normal. Everybody feels like they are not normal."

"What about you, growing up with Grammy and Grampy?"

"But I grew up with Uncle N," she reminded her daughter. N. is autistic. He was around all the time E. and I were growing up, but that's before A. was born of course. When he gets frustrated, he's quite a handful: runs away, can't be held down. The family couldn't have any nice things in their house because he would break them. When he got dangerous and they could no longer do much for him or keep him from hurting himself or others his parents found a place for him in an institution.

"Nobody feels normal,"  said E.

Visiting Far-Flung Family

Mom and I are halfway through our time visiting Aunt Joyce and the cousins in Alaska. I've been a bit uneasy, unsure what makes each one tick. How I can reach out to and understand them? How should I behave; what does it means to be friendly without trespassing, considerate, a good guest? It can be so hard to tell. Sometimes interacting with a stranger is easier; you have a blank slate.

Here I am aware of that tension I often feel when traveling between one community and another, that sense of  "these are my people  / but (at the same time) these are not my people."

There have been some good moments, but still waves of homesickness, displacement.

Too much is ambiguous or out of your control, both practically and emotionally, when you travel, especially when you are traveling with others. One of the reasons some people prefer to stay home where life is more predictable. I find, however, that the benefits of braving those things and putting oneself in a vulnerable position often outweigh the risk and pain.

My friend Craig, a pastor in British Columbia, wrote a helpful post about building connections especially with those close to you. I'm adding it to my collection of things to ponder on the topic of listening. See Building Trust by Building Connections.

The purposes of a man’s heart are deep waters,
but a man of understanding draws them out.

- Proverbs 20:5

The Mystery of Family

I've been thinking about family, and particularly about the mystery of becoming one flesh. I don't know any other way to explain the persistent belief we (as the human race) have in a generations-deep, ingrained family identity.

"In our family, we do _______."
"That's not the _______ way."

Maybe it makes sense within a race, a culture, a tribe, to speak with some confidence of "our traditions." But why, in a family, can we say, for example, "This is what it means to be Johnsons... this is what is important to the Johnsons. This is what the Johnsons are like"? When every generation, just about every Johnson is going to marry someone who is not a Johnson and have children who are, biologically, only half Johnson?

Unless you are marrying cousins (which still happens in more than a few cultures) every generation is a new mix of blood, name, tradition, identity. How can Johnson-ness persist and endure? Or is it just something people like to believe in and project in spite of the evidence?

I recently read a book in which one of the characters lost his wife and is trying to figure out how to go on. She had liked to think her ancestors were watching over her and cheering her on, and he wishes that in the same way she too were with him, but of course she's not his ancestor:

"They weren't even related. But he kept forgetting that. He thought of the medical consultation where, briefly, a doctor had mentioned a bone-marrow transplant. 'She can have my marrow!' Dave had said, and only at the doctor's quizzical glance had he realized his mistake." (Digging to America, p. 127)

Then, of course, the one-flesh thing can be broken at will; what seems so strong is actually also quite vulnerable.

I look at the pictures I have in my living room and see it.

There's one my Grandma Smith and her siblings; it's a beautiful photograph. They are all gone now but for years they were among the most important people in each other's lives and probably identities as well, even though they married, changed their names, what have you: still Jacksons and always would be.

Next to that is a photo from the 1970s with my sister and I and our parents. I keep it out largely because it's a visually interesting photograph; it's a good picture. Meg and I were no more than six years old when it was taken. I remember the day. We'd all been arguing, and you can kind of see it in the picture. We're out in the woods. I am leaning against a tree and have a sulky, angry look on my face. Meg is looking down. Mom and Dad, sitting together on a log, are smiling but not touching, and you'd think they would be. I didn't notice any of this, not really, until my stepmother saw the picture in my house and commented on it. She's a therapist.

Fast forward a decade and a half or so, and there are two more pictures: one of my mom and stepdad, one of my dad and stepmom. So: the one flesh thing, the Smith family or whatever, it was broken, and everybody started over with different people. Now who is family? What does it mean to be a Smith?

Or is that even a meaningful cover term?

I don't feel sorry about this, not really: we have gone our own directions and found situations that are probably a lot more conducive to happiness. Even if none of us had turned away from each other, things would still change, because that's the way things happen, every single generation. A man leaves his parents and joins with his wife and the two become one flesh.

New.

The Call of the Tropics...

Need to call my dear ol' dad and find out how his trip to Costa Rica went. Meanwhile, I see he's uploaded photos... He did drop me a line while he was gone to say he could definitely live in Costa Rica. (Would my stepmom would say the same?)

As for me, I could live in Bali. Live in Bali and be a writer. There's something creative in the air, there. (We could visit each other alternate years...)

In real life, it's unlikely I would move to Bali. I don't make decisions about where to live just based on the place. But where would you want to live, just based on "place-iness"? Someplace warmer? cooler? Four seasons, or just one?

Photo [stolen from] Dean Smith. More here.