Seen on the Street #2

A specialty Michigan license plate with the “Children, just love ‘em!” background had this on it:

ADPT1

Translation: Adopt one

Advocacy comes in all shapes and sizes, this time it was a mini-van.

Seen on the Street

Introduction

Every once in a while something grabs my eye, and it leaves an impression. It’s one of those things that just make you stop to think, not good, not bad, just “Hhhhmmmm” and wonder what they must have been thinking when they said/wrote/went/did whatever, and I was a witness to it.

Seen on the Street #1

Homemade car window *thing*, hanging in the rear window for all the world to see. At first I thought it was one kind of societal dig; turns out it was another:

War in Irag: 4,000 dead in 5 years

9/11: 3,000 dead in one day

Abortion: 3,000 dead per day, for the past 35 years

Abortion is killing America!

I just did a quick calculation, and that comes to ever 38 MILLION babies in the United States since 1973. I guess when it comes to making a life and death decision, one female and one child it, it becomes my own decision, and no one can stop me. When it becomes one President, one Dictator and peace and stability for a nation oppressed, it must be stopped.

Milestones

Yesterday was Sonny Boy’s 16th birthday.  He was very excited.  I am handling this birthday/milestone much better than when he turned 10– much, much better.  When he turned 10 I didn’t feel old enough to have to a kid hit “double digits”. I’ve got three of the “double digit”-ers now, it got easier with each one.

We didn’t have big plans, but did plan to take his driver’s road test, and if he passed we would go get his drivers license.  To his great joy, we got there on time.  He passed the basic skills part pretty easily.  ( “I don’t know why everyone freaks out about parallel parking.  It’s no big deal, you just go do it”, says he.)  I was glad that didn’t take very long; it was a little chilly with a breeze and the parking lot still had massive snow piles trying to melt, which I happened to be standing next to.  If you’re not sure what that feels like, just think walking into a walk-in beverage cooler with the fans blowing and waiting there for 10 minutes, not moving.  At least it’s not the middle of February.

We hit the road.  The instructor deliberately practices using monotone commands at home, I’m sure of now.  “At the next light, turn left…After you make the stop, turn right…When attempting to avoid a head-on collision, what must you do?..” Imagine Ben Stein in the Visine commercials.  Sonny Boy did just fine getting onto the highway, making his turns (not swinging too far over/near the other lanes), but he was nervous.  Boy! could I tell he was nervous.  As he progressed through the road test I started to notice all the things he was doing wrong– things I knew he knew how to do properly, but just wasn’t.  “He’s going to choke! He’s going to fail!! His bad mood will totally ruin MY day–crap!”  I almost thought of sending a text message to my husband: “He’s choking; start praying”, but decided not to, in case Sonny Boy would hear the buttons clicking on my phone.  I didn’t want to make him any more tense than he already was.

I’m not sure how many points are on a driver’s road test, but the driver is only allowed 25 negative points (mistakes) and still be allowed to pass.  At 26 and beyond, you fail.  I told him earlier that we would pay for this one, but if he failed he would have to pay for any and all re-tests.  Toward the end I could see that he knew he was on thin ice.  For a kid whose tendency leans toward perfectionism, and self-defeatism it was hard to guess what he would do.  Would he try harder to prove he was actually a good driver, or throw in the towel, and just scrap the whole thing?  If we had been on the road much longer I think the self-defeatist would have won out.  He did pass– but barely– with 25 points off.  I was advised to reconsider letting him get his driver’s license that day so he could get more road time in to practice.  I thought about it for about 5 seconds.  I also think that ‘near miss’ to failure knocked the over-confidence out of him.

He’s a good driver. If you know my Sonny Boy personally, you know he’s a young man of good character, a little impetuous, and loads of energy, but all-in-all, a pretty good kid.  I’m not saying this just to sound like Rain Man (“He’s a really good driver”.) His girlfriend’s father won’t let her get into a car with him just for the sake of joy-riding.  They have to be going somewhere, with a purpose to it.

I hit a parenting milestone today, too. I let him take the car to go run an errand to use a gift card he got over the holidays before it expired.  He said he wouldn’t be gone long.  After an hour, I was starting to think:  ‘Okay, it’s been an hour, he should be home soon. I’m glad he has his cell phone so I can call if I need to.’ Then  good sense prevailed.  I reminded myself he was headed to Best Buy and had to drive up one of the busiest retail streets in town, on a sunny Saturday afternoon, get his stuff in a store he loves to wander in and then come back home on the same busy street. Mentally, I decided to give him another half an hour, then I’d call.  If he answered while he was driving, I’d have to yell at him for talking while driving.  He was in the driveway about two minutes after this whole thing ran through my head.

Later, I gave him the keys and sent him to the grocery store to go get some stuff we needed for dinner.  I didn’t panic, hyperventilate, and worry the whole time.  But after dinner I was ready to work up a really good *mad* because he was gone and so was the car and he didn’t clear it with me.  Turns out he talked to his dad about that one, and had to run his girlfriend home for some reason or other.  Good thing she lives less than half a mile away.

He moved toward the next phase of independence, that first, faraway step to adulthood.  I let him go and didn’t even cry;  milestones indeed.

When Sorrow Returns (Unexpected) Joy

I was honored this week when a friend shared some very intimate details of their life. I wasn’t looking to shame, blame or point fingers and take aim. I also wasn’t looking to pry. I offered an e-mail “ear” should they want to vent a bit.

My friend took me up on the offer, and a message was in my inbox the next day. I was expecting a page full of venom and spite. There was none—not even a hint of it. What I read was someone who really, truly had a desire to confess a wrong and just as fervently, wanted to reconcile with those who were hurt in the aftermath,

My initial reaction was to fire off a reply—any reply—just so they would know I had gotten the message. What does one say after another bares their soul? “Got your message; we’ll talk later” did not match my friend’s sincerity and desire to reconstruct their integrity. By disclosing such intimate details I don’t think they were concerned about “image”. Of course, we only worry about our image when we try to balance on the pedestal others put us on. They didn’t want to be on that pedestal and knocked it out from under themselves before the mortar of my imagination dried. And I’m glad they did.

In the previous post I wrote how one little word can get a big reaction from people. My friend wasn’t trying to react, or get a reaction. They wanted to confess a sin to their fellow-man and their Maker and take steps toward forgiveness, healing and reconciliation. I learned a little something about someone else, and in reflection, learned a lot more about me instead.

I’ve told people not to put me on a pedestal when they think I’ve done something remarkable. I’ve realized they don’t want to keep balance on one either, for when they fall off—and we all will—the builder of said pedestal is more hurt by their fall than the one put there.

The guilt of un-confessed sin is a crushing weight that gets buried in your heart and soul, but then takes root and grows into cynicism and resentment. It’s very subtle. Like a river washes away its bank and reshapes its course, so cynicism and resentment do to our relationships. It is much harder and more labor intensive to repair the damage than it is to do preventative maintenance. I have learned this the hard way.

I’ve also taken away this little gem: bearing one’s own soul through confession is risky indeed, but is likely to be more fruitful than expected. If you are trying to stay balanced on the imaginary pedestal then the only thing harvested feeds your own ego. If you allow yourself to fall off, and after the dust settles, I’m sure you will find you are not alone. Grace and forgiveness, mercy and healing will meet you wherever you are. If the people wounded are still there with you, offering a hand to help you back to your feet, you are truly blessed indeed. It is here that humility feeds the hearts of the weary around you, and inspires them to take courage.

I don’t know that I’m ready yet to sow seeds of confession far and wide, but my weary heart has been fed and the Fruit in it has been watered again.

Thank you, friend, for planting a blessing.