Well- life has taken over again as it often does- especially in the Spring. I tried desperately to post at least once a week- even if it was to say: I don't feel like writing this week, and last week I missed the boat. I've had a few things on my mind. And damn it- I will post about Grandmother's funeral.
Any sleuth could probably gather from our mysterious 2 day trip out of town during the work week, my aggressively pinning home decor on pinterest, and Hunter's innocent mentionings of the "new house" and "new church" that....
We're moving. That's all I'm allowed to tell you.
I can't tell you where, other than that we are still in the Virginia Conference of the United Methodist Church. The UMC has a system of moving pastors that requires some confidentiality until all the ducks are in a row. Jason's job as a pastor is linked up in the itinerant system of the UMC. The way it works is that all the churches are grouped in conferences (geographical, typically whole or sections of a state), those conferences are split up into districts, and then you have the local church. Every year the district superintendents (folks overseeing the doings of districts) get together with the pastors in their flock, the leadership of the churches, and each other and they begin to put together the biggest jigsaw puzzle with no pictures. Theoretically the system is set in place so the the needs of the churches and the talents/gifts of the pastors are matched up and the body of Christ functions together- and pastors move around. Realistically, pastors have husbands and wives with jobs, houses that are hard to sell, children that would like to finish high school without moving again, churches that are *difficult*, pastors that are *difficult*, and more. So it isn't a seamless process, but the intentions are good and the hope is alive that each placement results in the revitalization and renewal of both the pastor and the church.
Jason and I are in a particularly positive place. (ooh- nice alliteration- not intended!) We have had the blessing of being in a church that has given us space to move and grow, be authentic and honest in ministry, and has supported us with more love than we could imagine. Sure, there have been ups and downs. But this church has been a blessing in so many ways, and as we look forward to our (potential but nearly certainly happening) move, we are leaving on a positive and satisfied note. As we move to our next place, we have hopes and dreams and fears. We have seen our potential new church and parsonage (we have a walk-in closet!!), and there is excitement of possibility. I believe this is one of those times when the system works.
I have had moments of grief when considering all the things I will leave behind, they are countered by moments of hope for the future- but I need to allow myself the time to process what I am leaving... this church will forever be the church of our every beginning. This church provided Jason and I with our first ministry job, we got married while here, we got our first dog, we painted and decorated our first home, we had both of our babies here, I planted my first garden here... This has been a beautiful place of beginnings. I look forward to bringing the kids back here to show them: this is where you began, these people loved you first. We have hopes for this church as we leave them- that they recognize how supportive and gracious they are, and continue to embody that in the world outside of them.
Moving. MILES to go before we sleep. I think optimistically most of the time about the moving process. I am a bad mover. You would think this is not true since I have moved... 13 times in 30 years. But I am. I remember my dear friend Jess coming over to my apartment in college and seeing me sitting in the middle of a pile of books, reading. She immediately took charge. She grabbed a box of trash bags, threw everything unbreakable into the bags and shoved them in the back of her Jeep and told me to get my butt moving. She single-handedly moved me. This might be why she is able to handle having four kids and I'm pretty satisfied with the work of having two. I get lost in the transition. I look at things I never used and think about how dreams change and goals shift. I look at clothes and wonder why I ever wanted some or fit in others. I look at my scribbled journals and reminisce. This place was a sacred time. It all is- and how often do you get to put your hands on every item stocked full of memories from a time? Moving takes me a long time. I think Jason is beginning to understand this. Each evening we have been trying to do a little work towards getting rid of items and going through things. We are going to have a kickin yard sale! I have been pretty good about getting rid of stuff (I'm awesome at it, actually), but I have to admit I've had to stop the mind wanderings numerous times. As obnoxious as it is, maybe I should give my mind a little more space to wander.
We're moving. Pray for us. Hope for us. Pack with us! Ha.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Boys and Girls
I am working on my Grandmother post- but it's a long and heartfelt one, and Hunter said something today that made me so ... I don't know- mad, annoyed, frustrated, crazy... that I lost my focus. So here I will write on this energy rather than try to write peacefully.
So amidst the whole Limbaugh-Fluke controversy (what's the controversy? I think we can all agree that Limbaugh is a jerk-face)... today is national women's day- don't remember who decided to celebrate us, but thank you very much. We need a day. Or a month. Or a year. Hell- we need a few decades to recover from some of the junk society and nature deals us.
Today I took Hunter to a follow-up appointment at the doctor's office. He had a double ear infection and the doctor wanted to make sure his ears had cleared up with the antibiotics. We were waiting patiently in one of the exam rooms and we could hear a younger child crying in another room. Hunter commented on the sound saying that someone was sad and wanted his Mommy. I thought that was sweet. Somehow we got to guessing the child's gender (now in retrospect, I really wish I remembered how that came up). Hunter said it was a girl. I asked him why he thought it was a girl and he said plainly, almost rehearsed: "Because girls cry and boys don't cry!"
WTF.
I mean, really. He is THREE! Already he is getting this weird complex about crying and gender roles with crying. I am anxious in my stomach thinking about it. I told him that of course boys cry and of course it's ok to cry. I asked him where he learned that- and of course he didn't know. I asked- preschool? Sunday School? Home? WHO TOLD YOU THAT?! No recollection- true politician style. Frustrating.
I wouldn't be so angry and upset but that this is not an isolated event. He's mentioned this before in other forms about how he can't cry. The last couple of weeks he's been increasingly aggressive in preschool and with Graham. He literally growls at adults. Again, wtf? Today he said he doesn't like people to be mad, but HE likes to be mad. And translation: mad = the emotion when you reprimand someone for being in trouble. We've attributed (and worked on correcting) this behavior to continuing changes in the home: Bruno being upstairs and in Hunter's space, Graham being much more mobile and in Hunter's space. But there are moments when no one is in anyone's face and Hunter gets up to bop someone on the head. It makes me literally lose my mind. I DO NOT GET IT. I have a sweet, kind, gentle child who is careful going up and down stairs, but somehow he is growling and punching and not feeling free to cry.
WHO kidnapped my kid and brainwashed him? Honestly, many of his behaviors may still be the result of the many changes going on around him and we are still working on those. He is still sweet and I love to see his little personality shine out. It's those moments that he says "girls cry and boys don't" that I want to punch sexist society in the face. People talk about original sin. My baby was not sinful when he was born. He was vulnerable, beautiful, human, needy, and whole. It is the world that he was born in that has the systems of evil. Little comments like "boys don't cry" wreak havoc on a literal 3 year old mind. I am going to figure this out. Every chance I get I'm going to tell Hunter: people cry. Boys, girls, old people, young people, etc. It's fascinating, when he talked about this another time- I looked for music videos to show boys crying- but without violence. Didn't find one. Lots of words about crying and sadness- but no boy physically crying. Hardly any girls either, for the record. We don't like to see or show crying.
I cried at my Grandmother's funeral and it was cleansing, healing, wonderful.
Boys and Girls DO cry, dammit. How do I unteach what society has already taught my son?
So amidst the whole Limbaugh-Fluke controversy (what's the controversy? I think we can all agree that Limbaugh is a jerk-face)... today is national women's day- don't remember who decided to celebrate us, but thank you very much. We need a day. Or a month. Or a year. Hell- we need a few decades to recover from some of the junk society and nature deals us.
Today I took Hunter to a follow-up appointment at the doctor's office. He had a double ear infection and the doctor wanted to make sure his ears had cleared up with the antibiotics. We were waiting patiently in one of the exam rooms and we could hear a younger child crying in another room. Hunter commented on the sound saying that someone was sad and wanted his Mommy. I thought that was sweet. Somehow we got to guessing the child's gender (now in retrospect, I really wish I remembered how that came up). Hunter said it was a girl. I asked him why he thought it was a girl and he said plainly, almost rehearsed: "Because girls cry and boys don't cry!"
WTF.
I mean, really. He is THREE! Already he is getting this weird complex about crying and gender roles with crying. I am anxious in my stomach thinking about it. I told him that of course boys cry and of course it's ok to cry. I asked him where he learned that- and of course he didn't know. I asked- preschool? Sunday School? Home? WHO TOLD YOU THAT?! No recollection- true politician style. Frustrating.
I wouldn't be so angry and upset but that this is not an isolated event. He's mentioned this before in other forms about how he can't cry. The last couple of weeks he's been increasingly aggressive in preschool and with Graham. He literally growls at adults. Again, wtf? Today he said he doesn't like people to be mad, but HE likes to be mad. And translation: mad = the emotion when you reprimand someone for being in trouble. We've attributed (and worked on correcting) this behavior to continuing changes in the home: Bruno being upstairs and in Hunter's space, Graham being much more mobile and in Hunter's space. But there are moments when no one is in anyone's face and Hunter gets up to bop someone on the head. It makes me literally lose my mind. I DO NOT GET IT. I have a sweet, kind, gentle child who is careful going up and down stairs, but somehow he is growling and punching and not feeling free to cry.
WHO kidnapped my kid and brainwashed him? Honestly, many of his behaviors may still be the result of the many changes going on around him and we are still working on those. He is still sweet and I love to see his little personality shine out. It's those moments that he says "girls cry and boys don't" that I want to punch sexist society in the face. People talk about original sin. My baby was not sinful when he was born. He was vulnerable, beautiful, human, needy, and whole. It is the world that he was born in that has the systems of evil. Little comments like "boys don't cry" wreak havoc on a literal 3 year old mind. I am going to figure this out. Every chance I get I'm going to tell Hunter: people cry. Boys, girls, old people, young people, etc. It's fascinating, when he talked about this another time- I looked for music videos to show boys crying- but without violence. Didn't find one. Lots of words about crying and sadness- but no boy physically crying. Hardly any girls either, for the record. We don't like to see or show crying.
I cried at my Grandmother's funeral and it was cleansing, healing, wonderful.
Boys and Girls DO cry, dammit. How do I unteach what society has already taught my son?
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