The Story about the Van Door

Last night, scrolling through Facebook, I came across this post by Jen Hatmaker:

"Spent the day in Nashville with my publishers and adorable PR team, planning for "For the Love" which you will have this summer. I think we got work done, but all I can remember is laughing and telling hilarious stories. 

Beth's comment to her toddler daughter about what to do with her precious apple slices comes to mind. (Can't handle. These are so my people.)

Which brings me to this: what is your most hilarious, worst Mom Meltdown Fail? Like when I told my sassy-mouthed (then) 5th grader to get a shovel, go in the backyard, and dig his own grave? 

Let's hear it. I swear you are not the only mom who lost her crap really bad once."

My first thought (of course) was "I don't have any stories like that."  Then I began reading through, and the memories came rushing back....

Two years ago, we bought a minivan.  Finally we could have more room for our growing family!  We got the Chrysler Town & Country with Stow N Go and automatic doors.  We were super fancy.  Months later, I had planned out a fun family outing.  We dropped Chris off at work so that we could pick him up after work and go to the zoo's special Member Night, with extended hours and probably a bit quieter than during the day.  I don't remember details about how the rest of the day went, but probably it was stressful, with three boys (ages 6, 4, and almost 2) home all day, with the summer heat, with me just not managing my feelings very well.  The time came to load up in the car, and again, I can't remember why, but I was rotating car seats around. (I hate dealing with the car seats.  When we get past this age I will probably try to burn them for the catharsis.)  I was sweating and the boys were whining and I reached the point of Mommy Meltdown.  I began to yell and bark at the kids to JUST SIT DOWN IN YOUR SEATS.  Someone was stressed about a seatbelt that wouldn't buckle, and I went around to the passenger side, grabbed the handle, and with an animal roar, I ripped the door back...and it just kept going.

YES.  I pulled the door off our minivan.  The children became very quiet as they stared with wide eyes at the Thing That Just Happened.  I tried (feebly and unsuccessfully) to reattach the door, to slide it back into the track.  And then I realized that I couldn't drive a car with NO DOOR.  I called my husband to tell him he needed to somehow find a ride home.  Then I had the biggest meltdown ever, crying and talking to myself, and oh yes, sweating even more.  All while my three children watched from their seats.  I could not think.  I did not know what to do.  The world had tilted off its axis as I paced around my garage.  So I made a decision.  I called a friend.  This is someone I'd known for about a year, a fellow mom who always seems so calm and collected and is constantly giving me good advice.  She is a treasure.  I knew that I was taking our friendship to new territory by inviting her into my chaos.  I remember feeling keenly aware that this is not something I'd done...ever...with a friend.  With my voice still hysterical, I explained the situation.  And she was the exact right person to call.  In her calm, firm voice, she said, "Rachel.  Take the kids out of the car.  You are not going to the zoo today.  Just go back in the house and wait for Chris to get home."  I nodded desperately.  "Okay, okay, yeah that sounds good.  Okay, yeah, I will.  Okay, okay kids, let's get out of the car."  My voice was still in that strange, hysterical place.  And for probably the only time in their lives, my children very quietly exited the car and marched back inside and sat still and staring.  I pulled a carton of ice cream out of the freezer and served it up for the boys.

My dad came by later to sort of jimmy the door back in place, then we locked it and drove it to the mechanic, who fixed it for only $50.  A short time later, we were loading the family in the car and I was getting frustrated again and pulled on the door too hard and Chris begged me to please, please just use the buttons to open the sliding doors...something I still do to this day.  The boys would bring it up every time we got in the car for several months, "Is the door broken?  Mommy, did you pull the door off the car again?  Can we drive our car Mommy?"  Clearly this affected us all very deeply.

In fact, this crowning moment of Mommy Failure spurred me to check my anger.  Last year for Lent, I chose to give up yelling at my kids.  It was something that was happening far too often and I felt out of control.  So for six weeks, I would catch the rage as it bubbled up, walk into the kitchen, take deep breaths, grab some candy, stop and pray for peace.  I usually lost control about once each week, the shouting would come out of my mouth and I would stop mid-sentence and will myself to speak in a regular volume.  And the really magic thing is that I don't go into full-blown Mommy Meltdown these days.  I'm racking my brain trying to remember the last time I threw a couch out the front door or hurled a toy downstairs or spanked my kid so hard he bore a red handprint.  My friend remarked this morning that our family seems a lot calmer these days.  It's true.  There are arguments, of course, the kids fight over toys and I raise my voice because I TOLD YOU TO PUT IT DOWN AND COME TO THE TABLE, but overall we are much less stressed than we have been in the past.  

Because that is the power of a mother.  I have the ability to influence my children, to set the tone in our house, to train them up in the way they will go.  So how am I using that?  What are they learning from me?  (And not my words, because of course I am so good at saying all the right things and giving "important" lectures on why they are privileged white American males who have it so much better than the rest of the world and they should thank God for where they were born and the fact that they have clean water in which to bathe AT ALL, so never you mind if it is the correct temperature or the perfect depth or if you would like to soak a little longer...)  Am I showing them how to properly love other people?  Am I showing them that we all have feelings but that our feelings shouldn't rule our mouths and our behavior?  Am I teaching them what is REALLY important--not a clean house or combed hair but Truth and Justice and Mercy and Compassion.  There was a time when I really wondered if I was the right person to be raising my kids.  I wondered if someone else (Liga, probably) wouldn't just do it so much better.  But I am slowly becoming someone who is worthy of the title Mom.  I am learning to help my children fill their minds with attitudes that will help them soar, not weigh them down.  But I still use those buttons to open the car doors.

My Thoughts on Women

I woke up this morning with a question on my heart:  Has there ever been a better time to be a woman?  The answer is an emphatic NO.  One only has to watch season one of Mad Men to realize how much has changed for those of us living today, how much freedom we have to think and act and be who we want to be.  Thanks to the tireless work of the suffragists, the educators, the trailblazers, the leaders, the law changers, I get to live in a time of unprecedented opportunity.  I can choose what job I want to have (homemaker!), what color to dye my hair (I'm thinking purple next...), what books to read (The Trumpet of Conscience, go read it NOW), who to vote for (that one's trickier since politicians suck as a rule).  Don't even get me started on the advancements in menstrual care...from red tents and rags to those bizarre belts and toxic shock syndrome, and today researchers are hard at work finding ways for us to avoid that monthly debasement altogether.

Girl Power! (I'm in the yellow shirt) 2006

I shared last week how I feel about men, both the general men of the world and the men closest to me.  It is because of these men who love me, my husband and father and sons, that I find my femininity.  It is in response and in relation to them that I see who I was created to be, see all my strengths and weaknesses clearly.  We have both, sisters, because we are whole people and we are flawed people.  The weaknesses of our gender aren't too hard to discover.  We wound with our mouths.  We gossip and whisper, we exaggerate and lie, we criticize and we judge.  And for all of the pain we inflict, we are mortally wounded when the tongues of others lash our skin.  Chris Rock says, "Women would rule the world...if they'd stop hating each other."  We allow envy to course through our veins and we forget to cheer each other on.  We forget to embrace the positive side of womanhood.

BFFs 1998

Because we live in a world that says we have to be like men to be worthwhile, we have forgotten why it's so great to be a woman.  We carry and birth new life.  We are created to safeguard the next generation with our bodies, and are capable of so much love, tenderness, and nurture.  If the children are the future like the song says, then ladies, it all begins with us, with our wombs and our breasts and our arms.  Let us never forget to wonder and celebrate at what we bear within us.  And closely related to our child-bearing is our child-birthing and ridiculously high tolerance for pain.  I firmly believe that if men had to experience the process, the human race would die off.  But we don't just stop there, with the necessary aches and groans of labor, we inflict more pain on ourselves in the name of beauty.  Waxing and tweezing and high heels and underwire (not to mention the torture of Jillian Michaels) and we don't even bat our eyes.  That's nothing.  We can endure and we can triumph through it all.  And our greatest strength is really the flip side of our greatest weakness.  All the infighting and verbal assaults we wage against each other can very easily be steered towards good.  Because our most feminine quality is our ability to go deep.  We learn about each other.  We open up about our hurts.  When we let our hearts swell with love, we realize how much we actually care about each other.  We realize that your victory is my victory and your pain is my pain.  We learn how to join arms and hold each other up.

It takes a Village 2013

I went to high school.  We all went to high school.  So we all know how scary other women are.  I chose to inflict pain right back at those who hurt me.  That seemed like the only way to survive.  But it's not.  I've been learning the past few years about another way to go, about real, healthy female friendships.  What it is to accept someone for who she is, to notice her abilities and her beauty and not feel threatened by it.  I've learned how to be vulnerable because I know I'm with safe people.  I know what it's like to be freaking out and scared and realize that my girlfriends (or sisters or roommates or classmates or whatever) are the last people I want to call.  Which is a real shame, because I have a few ladies on speed dial that are better at talking me down than even my husband (that's really saying something, since this is the guy I chose as The One to talk me down for the rest of our lives).  And WOW!  When I can reach out and there's actually another woman there who doesn't make fun of me or criticize me or judge me?  It's an incredible feeling ladies.  It's what I want for us all.  But we have to make it happen.  We have to be the change we want to see.  (Ghandi!!!)

Sisters (at Madame Toussaud's) 2013

For all that we have left to accomplish, the changes of the past several decades give me hope.  We aren't "there" yet, but we can get there because of the advancements women have already made.  We have platforms and microphones and education and spending power ladies!  We have voices and passions and we were made to be part of the solution!

*All the women pictured are dearly, deeply loved by me (even Oprah), and I will always feel tremendous gratitude to each of you for being a friend, a sister, a mentor to me.  You ladies rock!*

My Thoughts on Men

"Consider the target: women in their greater physical

weakness and emotional sensitivity are the target

for cruel and arbitrary assault.  The dishonor of women

runs like a dark polluted stream through history,

and all women have in some way been impacted

by it.  Misogyny is a universal blemish

on the face of woman."   -Andrew Comiskey

When I look around at the world, all the problems we face today seem to boil down to one source: men.  Think about it.  Men are ISIS, men are Al Qaeda, men are Boko Haram, men are warlords.  Men are in seats of power all over the world, arguing with each other over who has the bigger throne. Men are the oppressors of women, children, and minority groups under the guise of religion, law, and brute force.  It's hard to imagine women inventing prostitution, racism, fast food, or sweat shops.  War and all its various horrors are clearly the handiwork of men, since it is men determining when a country invades or attacks another, men who lead troops of other men to the front lines, men who created and deploy bombs, drones, and artillery. (Just in case you think I have pink blinders on, yes, women also fight.  But we like to do our damage in close range, so we can see the hurt we inflict and watch the life drain from the eyes of our enemies.  We're satisfied with sharp spears, even if they only take shape in our words.)

Not to mention, men, how you make your families vulnerable when you abandon them, leaving women to serve as both mom and dad to the children you create but refuse to raise.  Single mothers are working to sustain the family and also totally responsible for the emotional nurture of their kids.  All of that is too much for one person.  So young women grow up never knowing love and affirmation from their fathers and seek out replacements in the form of abusers and takers.  Not to mention that the young men who are drawn to fundamentalist hate groups grow up in homes without fathers.

And so I stand in judgement, blaming men for all these problems and more, but still I hold a candle of hope.  Because what stands between me and my burning hatred for the world's injustices are five guys offering a glimpse of what men are supposed to be.  I am fortunate to be surrounded by men who love me well, who uphold the often forgotten practices of fidelity and service, who embrace the strengths of masculinity without exhibiting the flaws of their gender.

I grew up in a home with both my mom and my dad, and my dad has always told me that I can do anything.  He took me to the library and let me get any books I wanted (I was at the library with my kids recently and overheard a dad tell his daughter to just get one book...I wanted to inform him that they are free and shouldn't be limited, but I held my tongue).  He taught me to play basketball and explained the rules of football as we watched games together.  He told me I was beautiful, even when the mirror seemed to contradict him.

Because of how I was raised and the kind of man my dad was, when I became an adult and looked for a partner in life, I found a man very similar in Chris.  He appreciated and loved me from the start, not perfectly (for there is only One who loves me perfectly, and I'm still trying to wrap my mind around who He is) but well.  I knew that he would be the kind of father I wanted my kids to have, and I believed he would be a husband who would honor and cherish me for the rest of his life.  So far, I haven't been wrong.

Together, we created two lives.  How I desired for those children to be girls, to raise them to be fierce, awesome women who don't take crap from anyone, pursuing truth and justice.  But God in His infinite wisdom gave me sons.  Even when we stepped outside our gene pool, still a boy was the one we got.  So instead of raising warrior daughters and feeding them misandry along with my breastmilk, I am becoming tenderized daily to the beauty of my boys.  I love them, not in spite of the stink of their farts or the messes they make, but because of them.  I am learning to take delight in their feats of strength and enormous appetites, their stubbornness and their desire to lead.  (Even the three year old the other day demanded that I follow him, instead of the other way around.)  I feel so strongly the duty I have to these boys, to show them what a woman is.  She is strong (as I chop down trees and move furniture).  She is soft (as I cuddle their growing bodies and give comfort to their boo boos).  She is smart (as I help with homework and teach them new things).  She is brave (as I kill spiders and engage in plastic sword fights).  She is loving and worthy of love (as we live this life together, taking care of each other).  And oh, I can see the men these boys will grow into.  I can see them taking jobs as teachers and police officers, helpers and public servants.  I can see them falling in love with strong, courageous women and creating families of their own.  I can see them doing the hard work of love (because if they don't, if they try to bail, their father and I will drag them back home no matter what).

And so my candle of hope burns into the night.  What if the tide is turning?  What if men and women together could bring healing to this earth, if we could set things right?  What if our men stood in their rightful places as protectors and providers instead of being pimps and power-hungry?  What if we loved so boldly that we fought back against terror and injustice?  What if all our children grew up in families where fathers were present and active, because they didn't bail, because they didn't die in an unjust war, because they knew what really mattered in life?  If we could do this, then we could all live free, men and women together.

Thanks to my guys, for being the persistent flame on my candle.

Behind Every Strong Woman

My friend wrote a blog for my husband yesterday.  Not because she is lusting after him, but because she sees what he does for me and she wanted to affirm him in the way he likes most, words.  Because this past weekend, he sacrificed at home so that I could serve publicly.  He kept the children (not just ours, but a stranger's child too) and cleaned the house and had dinner waiting for me when I got home.  He sat and listened to my stories and kept the teasing to a minimum about this thing that gets me so excited.  What he did enabled me to do what I did.

I wanted to brag about my husband and tell all the single ladies to marry a man who will stay home with the children so you can lead...but then I realized that's not what I did.  We have been married for almost 10 years, and this life that we are currently in was nowhere near our radar when we first began.  I wasn't looking for a man to support me as I stepped up to the microphone.  I had no intention of gathering women and living out my calling.  I didn't have a goal or a launchpad or a dream.

No, ten years ago I chose to marry a man who loved me for who I was (although neither of us really "knew" each other the way we do now, so many years and life-changing experiences later), a man who made me laugh, a man who was committed to making our marriage work and last, no matter what the cost.  And let me tell you, neither of us knew how much it would cost.  We signed a blank check to make our marriage strong and sometimes it shocks me how steep the price can be. (Forgiveness folks.  It is expensive.)

And that is how we jumped.  Not knowing what was coming ahead.  Not partners in some grand plan, just partners in life.  I told him I wanted to live an adventure, and he said, "You got it.  Adventures in a Single Income Household!"  He wasn't kidding.  I did not know what he would stand by my side through, but I knew he would stand by my side.  My husband is a man who says, "I think you can do it.  I think you should do it."

So ladies...if you are already living your dream, if you have already stepped from scared to courageous, then find a man who will live that dream with you.  Find a man who will handle all the "little" things at home so you can do "big" things in public.  But if you are single and like me, unsure what this life holds for you, then find a man like Chris at 22.  Find someone who thinks you are AMAZING...just the way you are.  Find a man who will love you so passionately that your passion becomes his passion.  Find a man who makes you laugh, because the dark days will come, and looks will fade and money will come and go, but laughter will always be there and it will carry you through.  Find a man who never tires of holding your hand.  Find a man who never tires of cheering you on, no matter how much doubt and fear fill you.

And single guys...my guess is that you're single because you're not that guy.  You're not brave enough to leave selfishness in the dust and leap into the great unknown with a hot lady.  You're not secure enough to praise her without first receiving praise.  You're not silly enough to make jokes when the car is broken down and the kid is sick and the 12th rejection letter arrived.  You aren't humble enough to be at home while she moves mountains.  But here is the good news: You can change.  You can grow up.  You can be the kind of man who helps a strong woman stand.  You can be the only one she wants to come home to.  You can be the strong arms that hold her through the storms and you can be the faithful one when all else seems to disappear.

For Chris, who is my shield and my heart, my supporter and my husband.  Thank you for being my partner through all that has passed and all that is yet to come.

Adoption: Love is all you Need

I remember so vividly the scene in 16 & Pregnant when Tyler and Caitlin told their parents they were giving their baby up for adoption.  When they listed all that they couldn't provide for their child.  And Tyler's father's response was "Love is all you need."  And I was dumbfounded when this 17 year old boy responded, "No, you need more than love.  You need diapers, you need food, you need a job!"  How telling that this kid realized that you need more than feelings (or Beatles' lyrics) to raise a child.

Some children are adopted because they come from poverty or young parents, like Tyler and Caitlin.  And some kids are adopted because someone intervened to protect them from abuse or neglect.  Either way, children who leave their birth parents experience a huge loss.  As I have traveled on this road of adoption as a foster mother and adoptive mother, I have learned more and more about the deep wound of separation and loss.

Hearing adopted people talk about their grief makes my heart constrict.  Partly it hurts me to watch people experience this level of trauma.  After all, it was the deep love and compassion in me that led me to fill out all the papers and make a place for this child in my home and in my family.  I don't want him to hurt, to grieve.  My greatest desire for all my children is wholeness.  But part of me is selfish.  Part of the pain I feel centers on my wish to be enough.  I want to be the only mom some days.  I want to fill all the empty places in my child's heart.  The reality is that I can't.  I can't be the cure.  I can't erase the past.  I can only love enough to fill one piece of my son's heart; that love can't fix everything.

As adoptive parents, we have two choices.  We can stick our fingers in our ears and hum "La La La" as loudly as necessary to drown out the voices telling us that adoption is painful, or we can surrender our pride and accept that our children need more than our love to come into adulthood with healthy, intact hearts.

Brother and Sister 2014

For me, this means doing all I can to maintain relationships with members of my son's first family.  We are not necessarily close or in daily contact, but we are able to get together once or twice a year and celebrate this boy that we all love.  It means letting another woman share the title of "Mom", of stepping aside so she can bond with our son.  It means sharing my weaknesses and frustrations and selfishness with my husband behind closed doors, and not making a child responsible for my happiness.  It means learning and researching adoption issues and preparing myself for future conversations.  It means pointing out people who have already walked this road, whether they are friends and neighbors or Buddy the Elf.  It means parenting without a map.  It means delving into the Beatles' catalog and choosing to quote from the song "Help!" when discussing parenting and adoption.  It means I need more than love; I need openness, grace, and support to keep going.

Two mommies

On Getting Messy

A few years ago, Chris and I decided it was no longer enough to say and do all the right things without actually touching the hurting world around us.  We weren't satisfied to remain in our comfortable suburban life, raising our two biological sons, so we went out.  Outside the box, outside the established order, outside what we knew.  We looked complicated and messy in the eyes and rolled up our sleeves.

It would be inspirational to say that we love this life.  I would challenge you to join me in this messy work because I would show you pictures and tell you amazing stories and I would say, "It's so worth it."  But the truth is that stepping out of comfort and into the messy lives of other people, touching their wounds and sitting through their dark nights is hard.  And there are days when I wish we hadn't changed anything.  Days when I long for suburban comfort and simple answers.

And then I pull out my Bible.  Something that has been hitting me hard lately is where I find Jesus in these stories.  Jesus is never at the extreme.  He isn't supporting sexism or racism or elitism or terrorism.  Because those are easy.  It's easy to say you don't like people who don't look like you or live in your neighborhood or speak your language.  It's much, much harder to take each person as they come, to get to know them all and realize that some poor people are great, and some are kind of obnoxious.  Just like some rich people are kind, and some are huge a-holes.  Good leaders can be found among men and women.  Jesus knows that, because He knows people.  Jesus can always be found in the middle, in the tension between two extremes.  While politicians debate and opposing sides entrench in their beliefs, Jesus walks among the crowds, healing and teaching.

This is where I am tonight.  I am frustrated and tired and not sure what comes next.  I am looking back with longing at the life I could have continued in and wishing for easy answers.  I don't feel like an inspiration or a paragon.  I can't promise that you won't get dirty in this tension.  But it's the only place I know to find Jesus.