And the Spirit Stick Goes to...

2012 Competition Cheer Squad CCA

I spent the weekend at the ACEA basketball tournament and cheer competition with the bulk of our high school kids, including my pre-teen who participated in the cheer competition on the varsity squad as a sixth grader. (Anyone who knew me in high school just cracked a rib laughing.)

Okay, so it's a little funny.

I was a drama girl in  high school. I was nerdy, weird, a little out of sync. My clothes weren't quite right. My hair was an epic fail. If everyone carried a purse, I brought a back pack. I was a little too smart to be in the stoner crowd. I wasn't athletic or involved or spirited. I sort of floated through high school in this bizarre little bubble, and my memories are almost exclusively of theater productions. The areas between are fuzzy blanks. I never once went to a basketball game or softball game. I'm not even sure if we had girls sports. (Surely we did, though.) I sat through one soccer game because the boy I dated on and off played. I went to a handful of football games only because I had a friend who insisted we go to a few. Cheerleaders? Snort. I think not.  I simply wasn't involved.

Cheer squad practicing at a pep rally

So, let me restart this...I spent the weekend chaperoning a roomful of cheerleaders at state basketball competition, my own daughter participated, sporting her backward-facing bow on top of a spectacular Snookie Bump ponytail (of all the stupid stupid). I had a pom pom in both hands screaming my lungs out at every game. (This is known as "irony", Class.)

The boys varsity played on Thursday (where they lost). The girls varsity played on Friday and won, making it to the state championship game. The girls then cheered on Saturday morning and immediately following their routine, half of the squad changed into basketball uniforms and played for the state championship. Yes, that's right, our cheerleaders took out the hairbows and played like a beast for the title game--elbows, ponytails, and sweat flying in equal measure. It was astonishing.

Elise ready to roll

Now, to be frank, this wasn't the best game we've ever played. (Okay, so we stank.) For whatever reason, the team didn't gel into a cohesive unit. The passing game was weak, the shooting was cold, and we weren't communicating or making the set ups like we should have.

Sigh. It was disappointing.

Henry Russell Sanders said, "Winning isn’t everything; it’s the only thing." (Sometimes Vince Lombardi gets the credit for this quote, but he stole it from Red Sanders. Do your homework, Kids.)

Both men were wrong. From a Number One Fan kind of girl, I know that winning is important. I wanted to win all of those games. I wanted to crush the competition into dust. I yelled until I am completely hoarse. I brought pom poms and tattoos to pass out to the fans. I yelled at the crowd if I felt they weren't being spirited enough. I did hair and chaperoned the sixth grade hotel room (Holy Mother). I bought soft drinks for kids not in my gene pool, slipped several kids extra money, passed out Ibuprofen like I was a drug dealer, and went early to the games to hold entire sections of seats for fans. I carried equipment and made signs and led fan cheers. I'm serious about the winning.

Cheer won second in state; basketball won second in state

So are the other moms/coaches. Mrs. Becky, Mrs. Mary, and Mrs. Marilyn were the most supportive team leaders ever, bringing hair bows, make up, nail polish, goodie bags for the girls, etc. Mrs. Marilyn, the cheer coach, and Mrs. Mary, the school secretary and Woman Friday, don't even have kids on the team and they came and stayed the whole weekend and worked like crazy women. We all want a win!

But it is so much bigger than the score on a board.

It's about being involved: Because we are small, the sixth, seventh, and eighth graders got to be a HUGE part of the varsity competition squad. Everyone got to participate on some level.

It's all about mentoring: The older girls helped the younger girls all season. They taught, led, did their hair, took them to the mall, ate meals with them, danced in the lobby with them, and painted their nails. I don't care what you say, having a junior/senior notice you and take an interest in you when you are in middle school is a big whoop.

It's demonstrating grace under pressure: The older girls encouraged them, set good examples, and overall behaved like role models. On the court, when losing, they remained calm, didn't curse or throw things or demonstrate poor sportsmanship. We held it together when under the worst kind of pressure. It's easy to maintain your decorum when things are peachy keen, but when things go against you, that's when your character will bear out. Learning how to lose gracefully is probably more important than learning how to win. Cause I've got news for you--only one team was number one in the state. That means everyone else had to lose.

It's supporting other people even when your journey isn't going so hot: The boys lost in the first game of their division. They stayed the entire weekend and cheered on the girls basketball games and came to the cheer competition. Hello??? Is this thing on??? They woke up early and came to see CHEER competition. They took up two full rows in the stands and waved pom poms and cheered and supported the girls. They were part of the school. Showing up for the girls went beyond just sportsmanship. It demonstrated character and love.

I am proud to be a Chilton Patriot! I am proud of our young people. I am proud of my baby girl who cheered front and center with the Big Girls. I am proud of our teams. I am proud of our school.

Now if I could just make up a cheer incorporating pom poms that supports English class....hmmmm....

The Hugging Problem

Best Friends

There is a huge national movement to ban hugging in the school house.

We don't want students touching each other, students touching teachers or teachers touching students or teachers touching teachers. I'm all for using wisdom in your daily life about who and when you touch people, but at what point do we determine NOT touching each other appropriately is just as harmful as touching each other inappropriately.



I can assure you that they
aren't trying to date each
other.

All of this fuss is largely because of the publicized abuse perpetrated by a handful of perverted adults (who could have found any number of opportunities to act inappropriately outside of the schoolhouse). Our gut instinct is to issue a blanket ban on hugging, because we just don’t want any trouble or controversy and the easiest way to avoid either of those things is to ban the behavior across the board.

I teach high school grades 7th-12th. Every day I am surrounded by kids ages 11-to-18 years old. My biological kids are also in the building in the same hallway where I teach. So, on any given day I receive anywhere from five to fifty-five hugs.

Mrs. Kim, please, please keep
hugging my kids. I mean it.

Most of these are those little side winding hugs. (You know, like you give your Aunt Ruth.) Some of them are the pat-pat-pat hugs where your bodies are leaned into one another, but only your arms are touching. They are mostly polite, hugs of friendship, but some of them are pitiful, please love me hugs. 

With the current climate of teachers abusing students, we have to be especially careful in our physical contact with students. If I’m being totally honest, this makes me incredibly sad.

Some of these kids hug because it is their love language. My son would fall into this category. Touching, hugging, and snuggling are the primary ways he shows affection and receives affirmation. He is in the fourth grade and still comes into my classroom multiple times every day just to be reassured that I’m still there and that he’s still number one. He hugs me in front of everyone, shamelessly.

 

I'm sure Doc was as disturbed by the contact as the
student was.

When some of the older kids started ragging him about hugging his Mooooooommmmmmyyyy, he raised one eyebrow, made direct eye contact and shot back, “Well, I can’t help it if your mother doesn’t love you.” Then he hugged me again while giving the evil eye to that teenager. The hug was to lay claim to me, his mother, in front of everyone just in case they weren’t clear that he is mine and I am his.

Some of these kids hug me, because it’s the only contact they have from a Mom. Everyone needs a Mom Person. (They need a Dad Person too. Usually this role is filled by a coach if the father is unavailable in the home, but that’s someone else’s blog.)

Again, I can assure you that they aren't trying
to date one another.

Maybe their moms are fantastic, and they are just in need of an extra measure of comfort. Or maybe their mothers haven’t behaved motherly. Or the mom has abandoned them to the grandparents. Or maybe the mom died. Or the mom works 65 hours a week. Or the mom is on drugs. Or the mom is just unavailable.
  

Awards night with two of my favorite kids.

I’m an overweight, middle-aged Mom Person for sure. I am a safe harbor. At any given time I am surrounded by my own babies who need money or hugs or faces wipe. I fit the profile—safe, good-natured disciplinarian, who is passing out the candy and reprimands in equal measure—I’m like a mom prototype. I am almost carrying a physical sign that says, “Hug me; I’m like your mom.” 
  


She wanted a photo with me (which explains why I look like a corpse in this photo). Such a precious student!



Some of these kids aren’t touched by anyone outside of platonic hugs from friends at school or back/butt slapping in sports. Think about it. If your mother and father aren’t snuggling/hugging you, who is? It’s a horribly lonely thought, but if your mother isn’t there to snuggle you, who kisses it better? Who hugs you just because? Who pets you on the head and pulls you close for a second just for the reassurance? No one.

 Even if your parents are perfect and hug you all of the time, can anyone have too many platonic hugs? Hello?   

We are bonded by human contact.



And this is the kicker—if you aren’t being hugged regularly by someone who doesn’t want anything from you, the only touch you end up with from other humans is sexual in nature. If the only touch you have from other people is when you are "making out" what kind of warped view do you develop about touching people in general? There has to be some sort of compromise between platonic hugging and giving detentions for hugs in the hallway.

  


One of my graduates last year after the big play production.
He periodically pops in to say hello.



I'm not sure that the only hugs we receive should be associated with dating/the opposite sex as a means to an end. Perhaps we need people available to hug just because human beings need to be touched in order to thrive. We need the reassurance. We need the affirmation. We need the contact. We need to be reminded that someone knows we are here and that we aren’t repulsive. Sometimes you just need a hug simply because you do.

One of my precious graduates! I can't wait to hug her again! :-)

I had a student at the beginning of this school year. He was new in the high school and hadn't turned in an assignment on time, and it hadn't been completed correctly. When he came to see me about making arrangements to fix the problem, he burst into tears, horrified that he'd done so poorly. He was embarrassed and afraid and it just fell out of him in a flood. 

I can assure you that without a single moment of hesitation I grabbed him by both shoulders and immediately gave him a soul-crushing mama bear hug as fast as humanly possible. Then I turned his face up to mine and told him that I was proud of him for coming to see me and that only brave, honorable people face their situations head on even when they are afraid of the consequences.

  

Precious kids at field day. Even
the youngest of us understand the
power of the hug.

I took both of my hands and mom-wiped his face and told him that he could come to my classroom any time he needed me and that I was expecting that missing assignment to be turned in the next day, done correctly. I then hugged him again and sent him to the bathroom to clean up and pull himself together before his classmates saw him. I'd do it again right now without changing a single moment. I pray to God that when that moment comes for my son, the teacher bear hugs him too.

Sometimes I need a hug just because I do. Hopefully, you’ll know when my moment comes and will act accordingly.

Left Unsaid

I feel the words heavy on my tongue.

They cling to the roof of my mouth and the back of my teeth, aching and swirling like too much sugar on the gums.
     I cannot let them loose.
         I cannot keep them in.
            I cannot set them free.

I struggle under the weight of it.
I struggle under the weight of all that is left unsaid. All that is left behind. All that is too much before me.

So, I wait.
And I swallow.
Hard.
And I tongue the hole where the words have eaten through to the bone.
A constant reminder of all that is left unsaid.

Hunting Expedition

I don't know how you spend your Friday nights, but after 18 years and four kids and a mother-in-law in residence, we spend ours apart. The Husband referees a youth basketball league, and I go to Wal-Mart to grocery shop.

We buy all of our 'maintenance' weekly stuff like bread and milk at the local places, but if you are cooking five-to-seven times a week for seven-to-nine people (depending upon how many extra mouths are at the house at any given time, not including pop-ins, people who we invite to stay after church, youth who drop in after church, and kids who wander up just because), that, My Friends, is a lot o' groceries.

If we want to have grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, soup, chips and drinks for dinner one night, that means that in one meal we use an entire loaf of white bread,  a package of ham, 12 pieces of cheese, an entire bag of chips, a pound of grapes, and a gallon of tea/juice/etc. The soup is usually two cans for three people, so that's five or six cans of soup. That's the math on ONE meal.

The best example I can think of is this: you know that huge pack of chicken you buy and break up and freeze for several meals? That is the quantity I need for one meal. Seven/nine people need eat eight chicken breasts. And I cook more, because I take my lunch almost every day. So, that big pack = One meal at Casa Johnson.

You get the picture.

Or at least everyone at Wal-Mart got the picture last night. My cart was like a marvel of modern engineering. I packed $479.00 of groceries, all generics with coupons, into one buggie. It was truly a work of art. There will be no squishing of the bread or crushing of the chips in my buggie. There will be no canned goods on top. There will be no name brands. There will be no extra space in the buggie; all will be packed tight. We are on a mission.

I've got all of these couponing people chasing me around all of the time too. I love you, but I'm not couponing.

I am forty minutes driving to Wally World.

I am forty minutes driving back home from Wally World.

I spend an average of an hour and 30 minutes on a two-week shop.

I read that couponing requires a) no brand loyalty and b) you have to go to multiple stores.

Um, not happening. I just told you that to go and get food for a two-week period requires literally four or five hours of my time. Why on earth would I add to that time driving to other stores, clipping and hunting and organizing coupons, all of the extra time that it takes to check out in multiple orders, and on top of that, the generic is cheaper nine times out of ten and it's right there on the shelf.

Now, I use coupons, I just don't hunt them down like I'm on safari in Africa. It's more like they have to wander up into my yard and then I'll shoot at them. And I always, always plan my meals two weeks in advance and stick to the list. Seriously--the only things that came home last night that weren't on the list were the kid's sweats on found on sale for $3.00 a pair (Calera for the home folks) and yes, I bought four of those. But otherwise, I stick to the list for the planned meals.

All of this adds up to one really huge observation: We are so very blessed.

I have a vehicle that will make it to and from Wal-Mart forty minutes each way. That vehicle is also large enough to hold all of those groceries. I have enough money in the bank to pay not only our needs, but for our wants. (Little Debbie has never made anything that qualifies as a need.)  I have time and energy and health to go, walk, shop, lift, tote, carry, put away all of those foods. I will have healthy foods available whenever we even remotely feel like a snack. My children may never know true hunger. The food that I put on the table has been inspected, washed in clean water that came out of a tap in my house, cooked to a safe temperature on an indoor stove, and I will have enough for left overs. I will even have enough to feed extra people. I will have so much that some will go into the garbage.

Next time you grumble your way through a shopping expedition, stop in the aisle, bow your head and cry out, "Oh, God, my God, how wonderful you are and how grateful I am."

Ready to Swap Superpowers With Someone. Anyone.

I have this running inside joke. Like most things in life, even if it's funny and you are being funny, there's still probably some truth in the joke. 

I have this invisible sign in blinking neon over my head that reads something like this: "Please feel free to share the completely inappropriate details of your personal life with me." Now, the joke part comes in because I am She Who is of Little or No Mercy.

You get the punchline.

You people are telling the person least able to identify with and help you all about your personal business. It's mind boggling. And it happens all of the time. Daily. My dad once told me that all of that "theater nonsense" wasn't ever going to be helpful in the Real World. Boy, was he wrong. As teacher, pastor's wife, friend, mother, etc., that's probably the skill set I value and use most in my life. (This is known as 'irony', Students.)  The ability to act like nothing is wrong and continue to move forward normally is seriously undervalued.
It seems that my entire life is running from one crisis directly into the next--and almost none of these crises are actually mine; they are usually someone else's ball of crazy. I get out of one situation that I'm required to fix and plow right into the next one without coming up for air. It's really quite remarkable. In fact, I'm pretty sure that the ability to cope under extreme pressure is my superpower.

(Maybe I am superwoman and the pod with the info I'm supposed to receive from off world simply hasn't arrived yet. Maybe.)  Anyhoo...

I'd like to have an entire week without anything to report. No emergencies. No phone calls at 2:00 a.m. No police involvement. No personal crises. No new people with cancer. No people who need money. No nothing. My wants in life are simple. Here's a short list in case anyone is listening:

I want to sleep for more than six hours in a row sometime instead of napping and sleeping in five hour increments. I hear it's great.

I want to choose the fast food restaurant now and again instead of taking a popular vote. If the place sells anything that includes a toy, we ain't eating there.

I want to go ten solid minutes without anyone asking me a question. Okay, maybe that's unreasonable. I'd settle for seven.

I want to stay in my jammies one Saturday until noon without the doorbell ringing.

I'd like to watch a completely-inappropriate-for-children zombie movie from start to finish without having to pause five thousand times (to make juice, find a hairbow, cut the crust off, answer the phone, answer the door, find shorts, open the big freezer, move the laundry...).

I want someone else to fold the clothing or at least put it away if I've folded it.

I want someone else to figure out what's for dinner and then just let me know.

I want all 58 high school students to finish their homework one time. Just once.

I want complete and total boring for 24-hours straight.

Okay, okay, so I flew too close to the sun with that last one, but you have to be shooting at something in order to hit anything. I can tell you this though. I'm not answering the phone or the door on purpose next week. If you need something, you better call someone else, because I cannot help you. Even Wonder Woman needs a break. So, the next person I see who asks me how I am, I'm going to over share the completely inappropriate details of my personal life and see if I can transfer some of this crazy to someone else.

The Three Most Powerful Words

I was sitting in the classroom and overheard a group of teens discussing a potentially cheating girlfriend/boyfriend. One of the group mentioned that she thought 'once a cheater, always a cheater', and for the most part, the others agreed. I really mulled that over during the rest of the day as a spiritual matter. What are we teaching our kids as a culture about forgiveness.

We are so weak and frail as humans. We are tempted and tried and no one really knows what we go through on a daily basis. This line of thought continued late into the evening as I watched advertisements for the morally bankrupt new show "Revenge". Really? Revenge? No wonder we have no forgiveness in our hearts. It's all about the revenge.

Successful relationships of all kinds including friendships, love interests, those with our parents/children aren't always about loving enough, but maybe they are more about our ability to forgive each other. If I never forgave my father every time he was a jackwagon or if my children never forgive me every time I am irrational, we'd have no relationships at all. It's not the quantity of love, it's the quality of our forgiveness that allows us to continue in love.

Forgiveness is complicated. Some of us equate forgiveness with weakness or lack of backbone or an automatic pass for people to hurt us. Forgiveness sometimes seems impossible, because we are literally unable to forget past wrongs. They cling to us and, more often, us to them.

I have always been the kind of person who sort of lets things roll right off. No really, I know I can be forceful and cranky and opinionated, but most of the time, if you are a friend or someone in my close circle and you do something particularly snarky to me or the kids, I get over it. Usually, I get over it without a single word being uttered to the person in the conflict. Sure, sometimes I vent to people like The Husband, but I don't I don't need some big confrontation or a "moment" in order to get closure on the deal.

I just sort of keep walking in a straight line toward the goal line without wavering and eventually, the person I have conflict with is either left behind, catches up with me and walks along without another word, or I keep my blinders on long enough that it doesn't matter where you are walking so long as you don't impede my forward progress. It's a quiet sort of forgiveness.

It's been quite a successful deal so far.

But lately in my spiritual walk, it feels like that mandate in Scripture of forgiving seventy times seven is impossible. I'd rather be crusty and pout and be a child about it, which is human and completely justified, but that's the immature reaction to have, because forgiveness might be the best practical indicator of your spiritual maturity.

Really get this. I'm saying that I think your ability to forgive someone who has legitimately wronged you is a direct measure of your spiritual maturity.

Anyone can serve at church, but can you CONTINUE to serve at church after someone has been ugly to you or even legitimately wronged you? 

Anyone can tithe, but do you CONTINUE to tithe even when it's financially hard or is it has been based in the past on your excess rather than out of your need where it's supposed to be coming from?

Anyone can say, "I love you", but can you forgive a wrong and CONTINUE in love in a relationship (as friends, spouses, child/parent) with the offending party?

I told you it was complicated.

"I love you" is considered the most powerful phrase in the human experience, but "I forgive you" might be the more transforming phrase. "I love you" is largely contingent upon being returned. "I forgive you" is all on you and not on the other party. It's harder. It's dirtier. It's lonelier. And it's the right thing to do, even when you don't feel like it.

Why? Well, God said so. There's that. But it's also because it's the one thing that will eat you alive if you don't extend it to others. There just isn't any power behind your "I love you" if there isn't an accompanying  "I forgive you". They can't exist one without the other. You don't really love someone if you can't forgive them.

So, with all of that said, I forgive you, because I love you.

What I Hope My Daughters Understand

I've always loved to read. It's just my favorite. Over the Christmas break from school, I've been catching up on my Young Adult books that I put in my library at school. Man, there are some weird books out there. I'm all down with faeries and vampires and ghosts--whatever--but I'm seeing a really odd bend toward Nothingness. What I mean is an overall tone of despair, sadness, with parents who aren't involved or observant in the lives of their kids. It reads like a generation desperate to believe in something, anything. It's difficult to read once you notice it, because it's so demoralizing.

There are two kinds of girls in YA fiction:

The first group is made up of beautiful, cruel, mean, snobs who are deliberately tearing down the people around them in order to crawl to the top of the dead bodies and be queen. They are almost always sexually active, dressed provocatively, act out without any supervision or repercussions to their behavior, and are manipulative, evil people to their core. It's a case of the outside not matching the inside.

The second group are made up of main characters who are plain, dowdy, and unrecognized who come out of their shells by dressing differently (usually sluttier), getting contacts, and changing their hairstyles. That, or the main female character discovers some sort of "superpower". (This could be playing boys football or seeing supernatural characters.) She makes some mistakes, but it always a ugly duckling/swan scenario.

This type of thing just goes directly against what we are desperately teaching our girls. You don't have to be beautiful and mean or plain with a heart of gold. They aren't mutually exclusive states. Also, beauty is absolutely in the eye of the beholder. What one boy finds attractive might actually be repulsive to the Right Boy. It's why God made us in so many different shapes and sizes--so that everyone can find his/her flavor.

Here is what I want to discuss with my children after reading these novels:

I am involved in your life whether you like it or not. I will know where you go, what you do, and who you are doing with it. I will check up on you, because this is how honest people stay honest--accountability.

You're right--I don't trust you to always make the best decisions. This is why you are a child and not yet an adult. But even more than that, I don't trust anyone next to your person, and it's my number one priority to keep you safe and sound to let you continue to be a child for awhile longer. (Proverbs 19:18 Discipline your children, for in that there is hope; do not be a willing party to their death.; Proverbs 22:6 Start children off on the way they should go, and even when they are old they will not turn from it.)

You do not call the shots in this house. I am the parent. I am not your best friend. This means that I will take action if you confide in me, and sometimes you won't like me. I don't care. My job is to raise you in the fear of the Lord, not to win a popularity contest. Don't worry; I'm tough enough to take it. Parents? You need to be where your kids are and have an active, responsible role in the lives of your children.

You are beautiful not because the world thinks so, but because your Heavenly Father says so. The standard of beauty changes from year to year. Your body type or hair type might be in fashion this year and out next year. You cannot rely on your face or body to make you or others happy. You might lose either or both of those sooner rather than later. Breast cancer, car accidents, surgeries, pregnancy will all change your body irreparably. (Proverbs 31:30 Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.)

You are not plain. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. You are a work of art. You are the house of the Living God. You are the temple of the Holy Spirit. You are the Bride of Christ. And those things have nothing to do with the size of your jeans or the curl in your hair or the clothes on your body. (Proverbs 11:22 Like a gold ring in a pig’s snout is a beautiful woman who shows no discretion.)

The world does not revolve around  you. In fact, you are usually inconsequential to everyone in the world outside of me and your father. You cannot go around being cruel to people you perceive to be beneath you, because eventually you will be 'beneath' someone else, and they will return the favor.

One day there is going to be a man who sees you as you really are. Wait for that one. Don't settle for anything less. It's better to be alone than with just anyone. Life is too short to kill time in your relationships

Be the kind of person that influences others by just being and living a life that honors the Lord in your actions, your words, your activities, your dedication, and your love. Grow in your faith and in your spiritual relationship and God will provide the increase at the right time. Don't settle for ordinary or mean just because you are beautiful.