Barefoot in the Parking Lot

So...have you ever left church barefoot? Not only that but have you ever left behind your favorite pair of shoes, never to see them again? Ever dream of doing just that and feeling very much okay with the whole thing?

I never would have dreamt it. And if I had, I don't think I'd have been at all "okay" with it in my dream. But dreaming and doing are two totally different things.

Of course, it's all my teenage daughter's fault. She's the one who led me to this craziness of a church. This place where they spoke of the Joy of Giving and then appealed to the heart of those listening to take off the very shoes they wore into the service, bag them up, and leave them behind. You should have heard the buzz of whispers as people looked down at their feet and chuckled uncomfortably.

Which was the whole point of course.

Here's what went through my head...

• Of all Sundays to support my teenager's attempt to make her faith her own...
• Of all Sundays to visit the place where my teenager desires to worship...
• Of all Sundays to wear my absolute favorite pair of brown wedges...
• Of all Sundays to have to put feet (couldn't resist) to my faith...
• Of all Sundays...Wow.

It was the Pastor's prayer that provided me the time and the closeness to God to decide to leave behind the cutest shoes I own(ed). But it had nothing to do with the shoes (although I hope that today one discouraged woman looked down at her feet and felt the same fleeting sense of satisfaction I felt when I wore them.)

Anyway, it had everything to do with me snapping out of an all too familiar bout of self pity. You see, for the past two or three weeks I had become increasingly discouraged, depressed and downright (secretly) mad at the world. There were no solutions, there was no hope, there was just no time to live a life that really mattered. And all of that together was making me really really grumpy.

Until Sunday, when someone asked me to do something for someone else. Something really unexpected - spontaneous - something really uncomfortable. As easy as it may sound to you, it took a huge leap for me. But once I closed my eyes and rested my head in my hands my heart became still and peaceful like it hadn't been in weeks. My stupid shoes became so unbelievably insignificant.

And as I tiptoed up to my daughter and her friend (because otherwise my pants were like 2 inches too long) I laughed and said, "Why are you guys still wearing your shoes???" They were dumbfounded..."Mom, you know you didn't HAVE to do that..." and "Oh my gosh, my Dad did the same thing, Miss Marianne..." and "Wow, Mom, I feel really bad..."

And I just laughed again and said, "Don't...this is what it's all about," and I felt better than I have felt about God, about my daughter, about myself and about the world (you know I get carried away) than I've felt in quite a while.

And, no, it's not because now (between tomorrow and Sunday) I HAVE to go shoe shopping.

:-)

One Track Mind

I wish I could think of something else...anything else...to write about but almost the only thing on my mind is the teenager sleeping (or quietly watching MTV) upstairs.

In every conversation we have I fail to take the highest road. Usually I do take a pretty high road but, really, I should be taking one higher still. How else will she learn about self control, patience and boundaries?

Kat (my ultra-inspiring blogging friend) is taking the week off to focus on praying for her children during this crazy Back to School time. And although I don't intend on taking time off...especially since I just regained reliable internet access...I do intend on taking time to pray for my kids. I also intend on taking extra time to pray for myself and for my mothering skills. For my heart and where it currently stands on mothering this amazing teenage daughter whom God has entrusted in my care (and who am I to question that?). She's not mine actually...she's His. Someone reminded me of that not long ago. And I really really don't want to mess up one of His kids...at least not without knowing I've absolutely done the best that I can.

So, Prayer and Back to School. They definitely go together. Not just to start (or to remember to be) praying for kids but to pray for the scads of people who will influence them along their way. Especially their moms.

:-)

Angst

I've heard that word many times when someone struggles to describe the emotional world of a teenager. Let me point out that it applies just as perfectly to the upside down world of a mom desperately and clumsily trying to parent one of those teens.

Yes, I'm blogging (all about) me again. Sigh.

I'd heard of moms locking themselves in the bathroom to reign in anger, but had a hard time picturing myself doing it. Running away from your teenager...even if momentarily...seemed so ridiculous. But, oh my gosh, that was me just one hour ago.

Good thing I'd heard of the suggestion because there is no telling what I would have said (that I totally wished I hadn't come tomorrow morning) if I hadn't escaped to my bathroom.

So, it was either let another day pass by with no blog entry or blog about what life is really like for me. And since I really hate being a stranger, this is what you are getting. Plus, I'd really love if one of my local (lurking) readers would invite me over for a glass of wine. You think I'm kidding...totally not.

But don't get me wrong - life is very good. I know what I want to be, how I want to get there. I know what matters to me and what no longer does. I get that life is hard and that the messy stuff is what makes you real. I like that being real is much more fun than the stress that comes from being forced and plastic.

But...having a teenager, no - your teenager, looking at you and saying things you could swear you never ever said to your mother, makes even the most sure of us quake in our boots. (Yes, we wear boots in Florida...in January...while we drive down the street blasting our A/C.)

So "Angst" is something (probably the only thing) my freshman daughter and I have in common at the moment. What freaks me out a little is the thought that it could be the only thing we ever have in common. We seem like foreigners to each other. Aliens trying to survive in a world neither of us knows well. Wondering if we ever knew each other at all.

Anyway...recently, I found a box full of old college papers and books. Funny thing. I took a creative writing class my last semester and wrote of my teenage years whenever the assignment allowed. My writing was rough in (many) places but it was totally honest and so my papers weren't all that easy for me to read. But they did give me perspective and hope that, maybe, within 5 or 6 years, my daughter and I won't seem like such strangers to each other.

And that is my prayer. Along with a good glass of wine here and there...that is my constant prayer...that we will get through this and be better women because of it. You think?

Thanks guys for reading.

:-)

Girls' Night Out

I owe last night all to my(older) brother. He was supposed to breeze into town after being close by on business but...didn't. Couldn't. Wouldn't. Whatever. Okay, okay - I'm being a baby.

Anyway, since the sitter was already booked and although the thought of curling up with a stack of books at Barnes and Noble all by my lonesome for 3 hours on a Saturday night was terribly tempting (sad but true), I opted for plan B: Girls' Night Out. The "girls" being my 13 year old daughter and me. And wow, what a treat.

Although, I wasn't so confident of that as we were planning the night...

"Mom, can I call Brooke (not her real name) and ask her to come with us?" (her)
"Well, no, I thought this time it would be just the two of us." (me)
"Mommmm...WHY?" (her)
"Just because." (me)

Doesn't sound too promising, does it?

But what a GREAT time we had! And you know what? She sucked it up and enjoyed herself. She had a monumental stack of gift cards and a wad of babysitting cash ready to spend, but she followed me to my stores (at first) and did her best to dress me a little more stylish than usual. Which actually isn't too hard since anything more than flip flops and jeans is a fashion improvement.

Then, when I was finished and I couldn't carry another bag, I followed her around and watched in amazement at the little shopper she had become. Only two (maybe three) years ago we spent HOURS in Limited Too while she stared at racks and racks of clothes having no idea what she liked or what she wanted to try on. Painful.

But no longer. She whizzed through shops and honed in on exactly what she liked. She looked at tags, compared prices and added an accessory here and there. She knows what she likes. Time being key at 8:30 on a Saturday night (especially with three more stores to go before the mall closes), she skipped the dressing rooms and held up shirts and shorts to herself before taking a chance on whether something would fit. And just where did she learn that?

I was truly amazed. And also thankful to have somehow, some way, produced a fashion guru (okay...she's just a typical teenager) from whom I can borrow cute shirts and fun jewelry. Because, I'm thinking after last night, there is no way I should be dressing myself anymore without seeking her advice first.

As the mall closed and we HAD to leave, we spent another hour or so bonding at Olive Garden. It had been far too long since I spent the night out with my oldest daughter. Far far too long. She has changed so much since shopping at Limited Too. She has changed so much just in the last six months. And in just four more months...she will be out of middle school. Finished. The awkward years over. Just in time for High School.

Suddenly I'm at a loss for words. My fingers just sat still over the keyboard not knowing what else to say. And they are doing it again right now.

All I know is that, out of all of the Girls' Night Outs that I've had, last night was absolutely the best ever. And that's saying a lot. It was some good stuff.

:-)