Why do my black daughters fear black men?

Our girls are black.  We are not.  Nothing I do will change this fact.  My husband and I work diligently (and have from early on) to monitor our comments and thoughts  always viewing race in light of what God calls us to do as Christians.  This was simple to do because neither of us held any racism and never considered ourselves better because of our skin color.  But even without our influence our girls formed an opinion of black men and not a favorable one.  In hindsight I can see what shaped their opinions.  I know in my heart that I did everything I could to avoid causing a negative opinion.  However I think my fault lies in my naivety that if we just didn't speak of color/race then our kids would grow up colorblind.  They would not form any negative opinions.

I can look back through the early years and recognize interactions that helped shape the reality we have today.  I remember early in her life our oldest daughter would refer to young black men as "What's up dudes".  These were not all men but those with saggy jeans, caps turned backwards or longer braided hair.  When we asked her about her comments her answer was "They always nod at Daddy and say 'What's up'.  We didn't think much of it, life went on, and we giggled about her comments.  I mean her comments were not mean or hurtful and we compared it to her comments about cowboys and how she would mimic them with her twang. Today she considers "What's up dudes" as gang members.  Media helped to shape that opinion not me but I never countered it.

As John became involved in community sports the girls were exposed to more diversity than our home and church could provide. We met wonderful people and always enjoyed being involved in the community.  But as with most youth sports there were those whose maturity did not match their age.  So the girls observed fights, belligerent outbursts, and angry words yelled at their dad.  Now before I move on I want to share why I think the negative opinions of black men held true for my girls but not negative opinion of white men because I assure you the ignorance and immature behavior was by all colors, shapes, and sizes.  You see they had a frame a reference for white men....their own dad, their grandfather, uncles, church members.  But as a parent I failed to offer any experiences (or at least limited experiences) to contradict those opinions of black men.  With very few in our social circle and none in our church tipped the scales for their opinions.

Time rocked along and we didn't give much thought to any of it as we were busy living life.  Then the world seemed to shatter and the angst of the black community and the perceived (and actual) injustices of the black community were front and center.  Our girls older now watched things unfold.  We knew with dating, college, marriage, and all things of that nature just around the corner we had to begin having open honest conversations.  Those conversations yielded nothing that raised a red flag.  The girls (as well as our other children) did not have fear or concerns.  Rooted strongly in faith they knew God was in control.

With our move to the DFW area we were excited to find our place in a much more diverse world.  But we realized the church we had began visiting clearly was not diverse.  Even in the midst of a large populated area our girls were yet again the only black attendees.  My heart was heavy and we decided to look at other churches.

We visited a church recommended by one of John's co-workers.  We arrived the first week and the roles were reversed.  In a service of 200+ there were only about 10 other white attendees.  Our girls who I thought would feel more comfortable sat at odds through the entire service.  Afterwards one commented I am not sure that service was appropriate.  I felt like I was hit with a brick.  The two in the family who I thought would leap with joy that they were no longer the odd man out were more uncomfortable than any of the others.  I mean the sermon was theologically sound and the music was some that we had worshipped to in the past (just in a more boisterous manner than our norm).    We opened up conversations again with them and that is when the truth finally emerged.  Our girls were scared.  They were afraid.  And my heart wept.  How did I miss it?  How did I raise two daughters who are black to fear others who look just like them?

The answer simple...because I never showed them an alternative.  Men of the faith that loved the Lord and their families.  Men who were gentle, loving just like their father.  Men who put God before others. We interacted only on a limited social level but never got to know them well.  Never had dinner in their homes.  Never attended church or gatherings.  Never truly got to know them.

So my mistake was walking through the years thinking that just because my girls were black and that we never had any prejudice in our home they would automatically connect with others that looked like them ...and boy was I wrong!  Now we realize we must be more intentional.  intentional in the same way that we were with all other areas of our parenting.  So what does that look like?

Our first step is our family attending a black church.  John and I sitting in a congregation of 200+ black members.  John and I being out of our comfort zone with worship music (but I must tell you I love to see the joy and excitement of praise).  We will listen to a pastor that preachers a much different style than we are used to and a congregation that yells "Amen", stands to clap during the sermon, and is active during the preaching.  It calls us to be uncomfortable to give my kids an experience they deserved many years before.

I know this will not fix all the issues of the world and my girls will still struggle being caught between 2 cultures but what it does is open the door for experiences and conversations.  In the process I will have grow as a person and my life will be enriched.

Tears on Mother's Day

I cherish each of my children and I am thankful for God's blessing in my life through the good and the bad.  Mother's Day is a mixed bag for me.  Although there is joy and happiness there is also sadness and tears. I know you are thinking why would I be sad on a day that celebrates ME!

Whenever I consider the blessing of motherhood, I am faced with the harsh reality that my children's first mother may not enjoy the day.  My mind considers is her day one of longing to know about her children or to revel in past mistakes that brought her to her reality.  Is she at peace?  Does she know they have a wonderful mother who stepped in the gap? Yes I understand she made those choices in life but my heart breaks at the thought of her pain. I myself can list a dozen poor choices in my life and can only thank God for his grace and protection during those times.

My heart breaks for my children who are keenly away of the additional family and the barrier to see them.  As our oldest grew up a divide emerged.  When their two worlds collided together as they began to grabble with the reality of having birth parents and foster/adoptive parents added to the tough reality of growing up.  No one wins in this situation but everyone is left longing for more.  I know when we began this journey that time would be needed to heal.  My idea was a few years.  No where could I have imagined over 10 years and still fighting for healing.  No way I could have imagined the children I had chosen to adopt and love would walk away and not look back.  Loving me in the only way they know how but incomplete by most standards.

As I consider my blessings, I cannot help but to go back to a time where I struggled with infertility.  Those days with celebrations of mothers was almost too much.  So much so that I could barely find the joy and gratitude needed to celebrate my own mother.  Being blessed with children doesn't erase that pain and I know so many who are still longing for child.

So on this Mother's Day I am overwhelmed with joy at the reality I am a mother.  Something that with this crew I consider often.  But in the quiet moments my heart weeps at the pain.  So I hold on to love on this Mother's Day.

Love is patient; love is kind. Love is not jealous; is not proud; is not conceited; does not act foolishly; is not selfish; is not easily provoked to anger; keeps no record of wrongs; takes no pleasure in unrighteousness, but rejoices in the truth; love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things.  1 Corinthians 13:4-7

Out of Left Field

Many of my readers will remember the Transitions are Hard post in early January.  My heartfelt expression of how I was feeling with the decision to send the youngest crew back to public school. Well tomorrow we are back in the homeschool business.

Yes. I know what you are thinking.  Really?   Yes really.

So all that chatter of trusting God...letting go and letting God was just some wishy washy emotional rambling. No not ramblings or chatter but heartfelt dependence on God.  We committed 100% to trusting God with this decision.  But we got it wrong...at least for us.

Over the course of 6 weeks we watched our confident, happy, fun loving kids shift to tempermental, moody and burned out kids.  School for them was truly draining every bit of the identity I had worked hard for them to recognize.  John felt the decision was wrong after the first week.  Hours of homework, stressful assignments, and kids who felt defeated.  But we continued on, determined to use this situation to help our kids (and us) to be dependent on God.  To not fret and worry but understand God is in the details.  We were committed until a couple of things happened.

The first was my attendance at their Valentine party.  I observed my confident, natural born leader sit meekly and basically not interact with others much at all.  And no this was not normal for her.  She is socialized.  Sports and church activities has her around others her age frequently.  She is always confident but not in that school.

The second was watching my kids literally have a fist fight as we get in the car to go to church.  You ask about what.  Wait for it...it is a good one.  A bible.  Yes the fist fight was over the fact that one had a Bible the other one says was hers.

As I sat through the service, my heart was heavy.  My thoughts consumed with how I was teaching my children to know Christ.  And then a friend said..."Are we raising our kids in church or raising them in Christ?"  That hit home for me.  I want to raise my children in Christ but didn't feel I was doing that.  I knew almost immediately the decision we needed to make.

Now I am not saying that you cannot raise your children in Christ if they attend public school or a private school, or whatever school structure you choose. But what I am saying is that my children were not thriving in public school despite loving, caring and competent teachers.  My kids were changing and not how I wanted.  My kids were more distant and the busyness of school work and long hours away from home were just not working for us.  So we are transitioning again.  Not out of fear but simply because we felt we had made a mistake.

So how does that happen?  How do you think you hear God so clearly to then realize maybe not? First I need to say that I don't believe God makes mistakes.  Every thing he does or allows to happen has a purpose.  So the purpose in this you ask?  To encourage and reaffirm that what I was doing was working and was good for my kids and my family.  No we are not on track with the latest testing standards.  Yes I am educating my children at a pace that allows them to truly learn and understand.  Will they be ok?  Absolutely.  Will homeschooling be hard?  Absolutely.  Will there be days that I doubt our decisions?  Absolutely.  Will I trust in God's sovereignty?  ABSOLUTELY!!

Jana

Transitions are Hard

Well after 3 1/2 years of our homeschool journey the time for the kids to return to traditional school has arrived.  I had mixed emotions about the entire ordeal but trusting the leading of my husband and knowing in my heart God has great things planned we forged ahead.  The weeks leading up until this day I was busy with all the preparations...endless pile of forms, gathering all the needed verification documentation, ensuring apparel needs were adequate (as homeschoolers our usual clothes for the day were PJs).

But today was THE day!  I woke up to a sadness.  Tearfully getting through the morning preparations. Breakfast cooked.  Lunches prepared.  Backpacks ready.  Rooms picked up.  Inspection of hair/teeth.

Everything was ready to go....everything but this Momma!  I went to my room to gather my items to leave and broke down in tears.  How could I send them to school?  I would miss them.  Miss the chaos that had grown all too familiar.  Miss the impromptu hugs and kisses.  Miss the giggles.

It took me 20 minutes to get myself together and a few conversations with my hubby before I felt I could walk out the door.  I head back to the living room to them anxiously awaiting me.  I said "Ya'll ready?"  They all reply in unison "YES!"  Then sweet Ava Jo says "Wait we need to share something positive about each other before we go."  Rikki Rae giggles and reminds her "We have done that twice let's go already."  So we loaded up and headed to the school house.  The kids were chattering away in the car unaware of the tears rolling down my face.

We pull up and park.  We all just sit there.  I think they were as nervous as I was or maybe they were aware of what a hard time Momma was having.  I wanted to take these last few minutes and fill them with love!  So I shared how smart, beautiful, and kind they were.  I shared how God had great things planned for them.  I prayed over them.

I pulled the door handle and the cold air of the morning and the harsh reality this was REALLY going to happen hit me.  I held back the tears and the kids jogged ahead of me.

The school is expecting us and we are taken to their rooms.  The teachers were nice, the kids smiling in their classes, and each one gave me a hug.  I saw a dear friend who hugged me knowing it was a hard morning.

I met with the nurse to cover Jayden's allergies and the counselor to share about Ava Jo's tender heart.  I got my sign for the pick up line and I walked out of the school.  I sat in my car and cried.  I know you think this is silly.  I mean EVERYBODY goes to school.  They cannot stay with me forever.  But I cried...big crocodile tears.  And this is why I cried....

Will they know that Rikki Rae's toughness is really a cover for a sweet gentle child?  Will they notice her brown skin turn pink when she is upset or embarrassed?  Will they recognize her sentences get short and choppy when upset?  Will they mistake her not understanding a topic as her just being shy or quiet?  Will they be able to realize she will miss her sister Ava Jo ...Her twin since she was 6 months old?

Will they hug Ava Jo?  She really likes to hug.  Will they not have the time to give her the extra attention she craves?  Will they embrace her creativity or dismiss it as childish?  Will they see her tears as dramatics or take the time to find out why she is hurting?  Will they know she will miss her sister who has always been her biggest fan (and foe)?

Will they learn and know the face Jayden makes when he is overwhelmed?  Will they know that his eye get really big when he is trying to understand? Will they see his cheeks get red and know he is embarrassed?  Will they help him find his voice (he has lots of siblings and sometimes just goes with the flow)?  Will they recognize he is smart just takes extra time to catch on?

All of those questions is why it was so hard to drive away.  I don't know the answer.  I will never know the answer.  But I know God does.  God is in that schoolhouse.  God is in my children's heart.  He will fill the gap that might be left.  He will comfort, He will calm, He will encourage, and He will protect.  He will do all the things I want to do but can't.  He will do them all in his PERFECT and COMPLETE way.

My job as mother and child of God is TRUST him.  Trust him with the most precious things I have my children.

So moms be encouraged.  We cannot always be with our children but God is and always will be.  maybe sending them off to school isn't that difficult for you.  Maybe it is allowing them to grow up?  Or make their own decisions?  Whatever it is take heart that God has them in his hands and nothing can change God's will or sovereignty.

Finish the Race

We have joined a new sport...cross country.  For those who have never had the experience,  you should stop by a meet once.  We have found the fans to be some of the most supportive we have encountered in any sport.  Regardless if you are the first runner or the last runner crossing the finish line you will have a cheering section urging you to give it all you got for those final few steps.

We happened into cross country.  Our daughter was playing volleyball but we were looking for a challenge.  She had decided to take a break from softball.  You remember we had a whirlwind summer of softball.  (You can check out the amazing season in this blog post.)  We decided to just hop into cross country.

 Ready for her first race.

Well let's just say we didn't understand the commitment and training it would require of our girl.  But once we did we LOVED it even more!  Her first race was brutal.  She trained one day the week of the race.  We didn't expect much and she did amazing.  She finished the race after several periods of walking, crying and fearing she was dying in 18+ minutes.  After she gained her composure she told her father that she was certain people died on that course. Ha!  She was ready to quit and her coach was certain he would not see her again next week.

If you know us, then you know if it is hard then we will push our kids and expect them to get through it and this was no different.  So I began to incorporate running into our homeschool day.  Our girl hated it but she is built to run.  Long and lean and already physically conditioned.  So we pushed on and trained a few days at a distance of only 1.5 miles and went to our second race.

This race was a big one.  Large number of schools participated, 160 runners, and a tough course with a hill aptly named "Big Momma" with its very own sign.  Since she is homeschooled, I am technically her coach so I walk to course with her mapping out her strategy.  (Yes this will cause a giggle for those who know me.  I am not a runner nor would have ever been considered a runner.) I was exhausted after just walking the course (and we took a few shortcuts).  We still had some walking and crying...oh and she told me she hated it more than last week but she finished and finished well.  Coming in 20 seconds faster than last week  44/160 runners and able to add just a little more confidence in herself even if she couldn't see it as she was running the race. Another parent/coach encouraged her to keep up the work and in a a few months she will become accustomed to running and would be able to medal.  She just nodded and when we got to our car she told me didn't care about a medal and didn't think she could last 3 months.

I didn't get a picture of Big Momma but there

were several hills on this course.

Now I know what you are probably thinking, why make her do it if she doesn't want to?  What purpose does that serve? We decided to let this be a teaching moment (or rather moments).  A gifted athlete that has excelled in sports fairly easily up until this point has met her match.  Something that seems almost insurmountable in her eyes.  Something she just isn't that good at and honestly doesn't want to do.

Doesn't that sound a little like life?  There are days that I don't think I am very good at my job as a mother or wife and would rather just shut the world away than face it but I don't get to do that.  This on a small scale could teach our girl how to face those days and push through.  So we talked and talked (and did I mention talked) to her about running, training, and never giving up.  She has no idea the life lessons she is learning but I do!  This is the fun part of parenting!!

Later that night, we talked about the race and how it went.  I asked her if she remembered what our goal was for today and she did...it was to beat her time from last week.  When I told her that she had she smiled and said "Really? Maybe I can do this." And that was the spark!  The spark I want all my kids to have.  The spark that they can DO things they put their minds and hearts into completely.

We went back to training and established a few goals for the week.

1.  No crying while running.  Her daddy can't stand it and honestly you really cannot breath well crying.
2.  No walking or stopping during the race so pick a pace you can maintain.
3.  Give it all you got when you see the finish line.

She was able to accomplish all three in her 3rd race.  She finished 2 minutes faster this week!  The spark was now a small flickering flame.  She didn't win a medal but the pride she had in herself was all over her face.  She had set goals, worked for those goals, and trusted in God to provide a way to meet her goals.  Side note...she still hated this running thing and was ready to be done with the season.

I decided to change her training up a little as I felt she was thinking about things too much.  I set a run keeper app and a timer at 15 minutes on an iPod and told her to run as fast as she could without stopping until the timer went off.  She took off all smiles.  I thought...Oh I wonder how long she will last.  She passed me after 15 minutes and kept running.  She ended up running for over 28 minutes and finished 4+ miles.  Not bad for a girl who hates to run.  

The next race drew a smaller number of competitors but a challenging course with hills.  Our girl took off and as she saw her daddy after one of the big hills she said I am good and took off.  She finished in 2nd place with a 14:30 finish (a minute faster) than last week and didn't seem winded at the end.  There were no tears and she got a medal.  Maybe this running wasn't so bad after all.

All smiles after the race.

Her next race would be the biggest and would have her face over 150 runners from the public & private schools all over east Texas.  She ran a fast pace and was all smiles.  She pushed herself and ended up with a few tears and tripping at the finish line (in her words "I collapsed" in a rather dramatic tone).  It paid off she finished 5th with a 13:43 (her fastest time yet).  We have an inferno now!  She is motivated, she is confidant, and she believes she can do anything with God's help. In less than a month she has improved her time by more than 4 minutes!

Best time so far!

Our season is wrapping up soon with just a few meets left.  Our girl trained on Sunday this week with her younger sisters.  Next year we will have 4 runners to cheer on.  Some will finish first, some will finish last, and one I am hoping will just finish.  But again where they finish isn't important.  Winning medals wasn't what has made this season so fun.  Watching our girl transform before our eyes was THE season.

So next time you are afraid to push your kids, or don't want to see them fail reconsider.  Maybe we don't push enough.  Maybe we don't let them fail enough.  The world is cruel and they will fail.  I like the idea they fail with me rather than later without me.  I can guide, encourage, and hopefully teach how to pick themselves back up.  I can direct them to God for their confidence and strength, to see who they really are, and to be certain that their successes and failures are not what defines them but rather God does.

In the last month we were on this journey into running, we were able to talk about what commitment looks like, how do we define failure or success in this arena, how hard pays off, and what it means to "dig deep" when you think you have nothing left.  We were able to let our girl experience self-motivation.  No one was on the trail with her running.  No one was yelling in the back part of the race...no one watching.  It was all on her.  She had the choice.  But you can bet that no matter what place or time she crossed that finish line I was all smiles, hugs, and cheers!  And that is what it is all about Growing Up on Dublin Lane.

Proud Momma cheering her on at the finish.