children

Thoughts On Another School Shooting

/ Laura Phelan / Leave a comment

February 14th, 2018. Valentine’s Day for all. Ash Wednesday for some. Life-altering tragedy for a few.

Yesterday, 17 people lost their lives to a 19 year-old gunman with history of mental health issues at Marjorie Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida. Mostly students, the victims are the latest in a wave of public shooting massacres sweeping our nation. Douglas, as it’s known, is located between the high school my husband attended and my own. We know people who went there. For us, it’s close to home.

But here’s the thing. When I first heard the news, I wasn’t shocked. I was barely shaken, to be honest. Instead, I felt hopeless and frankly, annoyed. Also, angry.  I know that’s blunt, but it’s the truth. The fact of the matter is, America just can’t get this right. 

So I helped my girls with their homework, then we went for a quick dinner before our church’s Ash Wednesday service began. During the meditation, a strange alarm sounded somewhere in the sanctuary. And I remember thinking what does that mean? And what would we do if an intruder opened fire here, in this sacred space where sinners were gathered to begin a 40-day journey to the heart of our faith. We’d be helpless. We  would lose people we love. Maybe even our own lives. We would be forever altered, too.

Then, this morning, I sat down to do my Lenten devotional. Last year, I started a tradition with some of my friends of really going deep during this season. Using She ReadsTruth, we dive into a study that always leaves us changed. Today, one of the ancillary passages was Joshua 5:13-15:

13 Now when Joshua was near Jericho, he looked up and saw a man standing in front of him with a drawn sword in his hand. Joshua went up to him and asked, “Are you for us or for our enemies?” 14 “Neither,” he replied, “but as commander of the army of the Lord I have now come.” Then Joshua fell facedown to the ground in reverence, and asked him, “What message does my Lorda]”>[a] have for his servant?” 15 The commander of the Lord’s army replied, “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy.” And Joshua did so.

This passage, and not the news yesterday, is what moved me. 

My guess is most of what you’re seeing today is essays and speeches and lengthy FB posts on one side about how it’s time for sensible gun laws, and on the other side about how it’s time to focus on our families and our faith and our mental health.

But this passage tells us something we need to hear. When asked which side God is on, the answer is clear. Neither. But nonetheless, he sent a representative to fight. In this, He acknowledges the battle. There is work to be done and He knows it. What’s more, in the notes in my Bible, it mentions that, in sending their commander, God’s army was committed to the battle.

So what does that commitment mean for the massacre in Florida and its aftermath? To me, it means God is pro gun sense. And God is pro family. And I think it goes without saying that God is pro faith. But He’s also pro mental health. He’s committed to the battle, but his side is neither. His side is peace, his side is wholeness, his side is love.

Today, many of you are probably ready to dig in your heels about the direction our country needs to take. And here’s the thing. I think you’re all right. We need all the arguments you care to muster. Clearly, this is not a one answer problem.

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I think of our country as a big old pot of stew. We’ve thrown in some poor gun legislation, absolutely. But we’ve also tossed in some unrealistic expectations for what it means to succeed in life and passed it on to our children. Then we mixed in an avoidance of mental health issues for way too long. Boy, have we let that simmer. And we seasoned it all with a 24-hour news cycle that definitely hasn’t helped. And the stew? It’s boiling over. After all, we’re Americans. We go big all.the.time. 

So here’s what I propose. Rather than digging in your heels on your side of the line, and shaking your fist at the other side, do something about it. What does that look like?

Are you upset about gun laws in this country and the lack of legislation you believe would prevent these tragedies? Cool. Learn more about what you can do to help. Join an organization like Moms Demand Action and lobby your local representatives for change. Better yet, run for office. 

Do you think we need to put less pressure on our children to succeed academically and focus more on their overall well-being? Great! What about volunteering at a local organization that works with troubled youth or getting involved in your local school system to promote change?

Is a focus on family and faith your answer? Fantastic. Plan a monthly get together with other neighborhood families and discuss how you can be there for one another. Join or form a committee at your place of worship that’s focused on youth and family outreach.

Don’t miss this. When the messenger told Joshua he wasn’t necessarily on one side or the other, he wasn’t dismissing the battle. There was a battle to be fought, and he was committed to the cause. This is indeed a battle. And it’s up to each one of us to join forces and make a difference.

Soup’s on, America. We all know it’s high time we change the recipe.

A Helping Hand

/ Laura Phelan / Leave a comment

Last weekend, my husband and I decided to take the girls on a hike. But not just any hike. For Atlanta metro residents, climbing Stone Mountain is a rite of passage. Our girls, ages six and nine, are both decorated IronKids, and tackled their first 5k a few months ago. We figured they were probably ready. I hadn’t climbed the mountain since I was a kid, so I did a little research before we left. At only 1 mile to the top, I figured we’d be fine. We packed a picnic for the journey and headed up.

On average, I’m active 5 days a week. I’m a sprint-distance triathlete and a distance runner. This climb was tough. At the halfway point, I was winded. By the last stretch, we were basically climbing vertically. I was speaking words of encouragement through my labored breathing. Our two girls decided to sprint the rest. I was determined to follow. And then we were there, breathing hard but smiling. Our first summit!

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We ate our picnic and watched all the people who rode the gondola to the top exit and walk around. My husband and I told the girls how proud we were of them. We explained that some of the people riding the gondola couldn’t hike up the mountain and that doing certain things that are hard just because we can is important.

Soon it was time for the hike back down. We hit that vertical descent we sprinted up shortly before, and I panicked. You see, since the last time I hiked this particular mountain, I’ve developed a bit of a fear of heights. And Stone Mountain isn’t your average mountain – it’s a big hunk of granite, exposed high above the tree line. At the summit, it’s sheer rock. I suddenly felt exposed, small, and really scared. 

The mother who had pushed her kids up the mountain with words of encouragement and no fear faltered. My family was ahead of me, with my six-year-old just in front. “I’m scared,” I admitted, pausing to squat and touch the ground with my hands.

That’s when my youngest daughter turned around and offered me her hand.”It’s okay, Mama, I’ll help you.”

I took her hand. And my parenting role up until that moment shifted.

For almost a decade I’ve been busy guiding small children through life. My daughters still look to me with absolute trust to help them through each day, to dispense advice and bandage their wounds – both physically and emotionally. But that is rapidly changing, and will continue to do so. I will soon have teenagers, then young adults, then wives, mothers, contributing members of society.

That little hand reaching out to me on the side of a mountain got me thinking: I always want to take her hand. 

This world has changed immeasurably in my short lifetime – technology, ideology, even societal norms – are different from when I was their age. And as they grow, it  will continue to change.

I think as we age, the push forward can become a bit overwhelming, a bit scary. Kind of like developing a fear of heights. I wasn’t afraid of heights until a few years ago. Experts will tell you that’s common, that it has to do with your equilibrium. Many of the changes I’ve seen in my lifetime don’t scare me. But the future might.

In our current political climate, I see a lot of division between generations. In many cases, family members simply can’t see eye to eye, at a level I assume hasn’t occurred since the 1960’s. And while much goes into a person’s stance on issues at stake, and everyone is entitled to their own opinion, I think sometimes we forget one thing: to take hold of those who may be a bit more steady on their feet.

The vertical descent didn’t bother my young girls like it did me. For the first time, I let my child, the one I’m guiding, guide me. And I hope it won’t be the last time. She could see the path ahead, she could feel the ground beneath her feet, she had a way forward. So I chose to take her hand and walk together.

I told my girls recently that when I’m old and set in my ways, I want them to call me out. If I hurt their feelings, I want to know. If I am wrong, I want them to take my hand and help me see their point of view. To be honest, they already do it to a certain extent. They teach me something new every day.

So to my girls I will say:  Remember our first mountain summit?  We celebrated together. Then we headed down – and I needed your help. You offered your hand, and I took it. Let’s keep that going, okay? Love, Mama

 

 

 

 

 

 

Flying High

/ Laura Phelan / Leave a comment

This week was a big one for my nine-year-old. She auditioned for the spring ballet at her dance studio and got in. This may not seem like an amazing feat, but for her it was monumental.

Two years ago, she auditioned for the spring performance and didn’t make it. It was her first major rejection in life and she took it hard. What a tough thing it is to watch your child experience heartache in any form. She thought the pain would never end.

But I helped her pick herself back up, congratulate those that did make it, and carry on. Over time, the pain receded. She danced in the studio’s production of the Nutcracker the next two years but refused to audition for the spring show. Then, last month, she informed me she was ready to try again.

“You know you may not make it,” I told her. “I want you to be prepared for that.”

“I know, Mom,” she said. “I still want to try. I understand. It’s okay.”

In that moment, I saw the wisdom and the perspective she gained from that moment two years ago. She has carried it with her, celebrating her victories with extra fervor, and facing challenges with an attitude beyond her years. She also has a bigger heart for those who seem left out or hurting. What a benefit to a hard life lesson.

As a society, we are, for the most part, terrified to watch our children fail. Now, as the millennials come of age, we see the effects of the trophy for all, helicopter parenting mentality. Corporations struggle to keep employees, and reality is much harder to face for many young professionals. For this reason, I am thankful for a failure at the tender age of seven for my oldest daughter. It has already shaped her in a positive way.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared to send her to auditions last weekend. But I knew I had to let her go. img_3860

Of course, this particular tale has a happy ending. She worked hard, she gave it a shot, and she got in. This entire week, she’s been on cloud nine. She just keeps saying, “I can’t believe I got in!”

But that won’t always be the case. Now, it’s the spring ballet. Fast forward another 10 years and it’s college. And beyond. She will encounter rejection again. Her heart will hurt. But in those moments I hope she will reach back to her seven-year-old self and remember that she carried on. And two years later, her nine-year-old self made it.

Are you afraid of rejection? Scared to let your kids fail? I say don’t be. Yes, there may be heartache. But there may not be. And even if there is, there are lessons in the pain that can shape a person in lasting ways – ways that lead to love, acceptance, and also to determination and success.

The day after her acceptance letter, I had the opportunity to watch her in one of her ballet classes. She looked so much older than she seems at home, snuggled next to me on the couch. Her legs are longer, her body is stronger. While in class,  I captured this photo of her. Here she’s flying high.

I plan to hold onto this photo for the years ahead, for when she fails or falls. For when she’s hurting. I will remind her that there will be moments of rejection, moments of pain. But there will also be moments of great joy. Moments when she will feel she could just float on air. And I’ll remind her that one time, on a Tuesday in dance class at the age of nine, I saw her do it.

 

 

 

 

Making History

/ Laura Phelan / Leave a comment

Regardless of where you stand, today is one for the history books. I just finished watching our new President address the nation. You can probably deduce from my posts, but I didn’t vote for President Trump. However, I am an American, so I watched his inauguration.

What I heard was a populist address at the center of an ailing system. What I saw was a peaceful transition of power despite the division among the people. It made me remember why America is so fantastic.

We may not all agree with the new President, but let’s not lose sight of the fact that we are free to disagree. Tomorrow, women around the country will march for their rights. To make statement. A statement we’re able to make.

My strong-willed, six year old daughter has recently shown a fascination with history, in particular women in history. Over the winter break, she literally slept with a biography of Malala Yousafzai. I’d find her up past her bedtime, holding a small lantern, pouring over her story again and again. It opened up discussions about bravery, standing up for what is right, and our role as citizens in a free country.

img_6311Earlier this week, I took both my girls to the library. As we pulled into the parking lot, my little one announced she would be getting a book on Colonial times and Sacagawea. She did that and more. Her sister wound up with a biography on Abigail Adams.

Their choices got me thinking: we’re all beginning a new chapter in Amerian history together. There is excitement. There is dread. But the people of our nation are also awake from a dangerous slumber. People in both camps are ready for change, for action. I think that’s something worth noting. We are all part of this moment in history.

So what will you do with it? At our house, we’re reading. We’re learning.We’re talking.

Can I be so bold as to challenge you to do the same?  Visit the library with your children this week. Browse the non-fiction and reference sections together. Or go alone. Take home a book on an event or historical figure you may not know much about. An understanding of where we’ve come from will shape our decisions moving forward.

What’s more, the library is free and open to all. That means every parent in this country has a way to prepare the next generation of voters to decide for themselves what issues matter to them, which policies they agree with and which ones they don’t.

We are living in a new age, where discernment is imperative and communication is more important than ever. It’s a new chapter for America.  Let’s all help write it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

One Word

/ Laura Phelan / 1 Comment

In the last 48 hours alone, there’s been an abundance of words. President Obama’s last speech, President-Elect Trump’s press conference, and one Senator testifying against another for the first time in history over a cabinet position. Then there was my youngest daughter’s meltdown about having to wear her hair up for dance and the argument between the two of us that followed. So. Many. Words.
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My guess is you get it. You, too, are surrounded by words. Some are loving, yes. Some encouraging. But some are biting, ugly, even destructive. These words come from others, but they also come from us.

This New Year, my family took part in a different kind of resolution. In conjunction with my dear friend Jess’s website gather&grow, we sat down as a family to do something revolutionary in today’s culture. We chose one word. Just one. 

Jess included a few questions to help us come up with our words and a printable to write them down (you can get them both here). We gathered together with pencils, crayons, and rubber stamps to begin a year-long journey with a single word.

As a freelance writer, words are my livelihood. I’m also a people person who has no fear in addressing a room full of people. I literally live and breathe words. So choosing just one was a tall order. In fact, the idea wasn’t even on my radar.

Then one night over the holidays, my friend Josie came over to bring me a gift and stayed for a glass of wine. In our conversation, she mentioned she was doing the one word resolution, inspired by #OneWord365 and MyOneWord.org. I was intrigued. New Year’s night, after my family was all asleep, I sat alone, admiring our Christmas tree for the last time. The next day, we would take it down and pack everything away. trust

And there it sat. My word. Written in my own hand a year ago at an advent service. I wasn’t even 100% in on this one word thing. Yet there it was. How did I know it was my word? Well, to be honest, it scared me to choose it. It was perfect.

Words are powerful. They have meaning. Throwing strong words around lightly can be catastrophic. I think most of us can agree that regularly watching it happen on a national platform is, at the least, unsettling. For me, it’s terrifying.

So what if we all choose a word?  One word. What would the impact be around us? Why not give it a shot. Do you really want to grow this year? Think of a word you don’t want to choose. That’s probably the word you need. 

Now write it down. Hang it up where you can see it. Ours are on the kitchen bulletin board, on the wall the leads to the coat and bag hooks. We will literally pass those words every day for a year. And my hope is, for each of us, our word will guide us, shape us, change us for the better.

Happy New Year.

 

 

It’s All You!

/ Laura Phelan / Leave a comment

Being a mother to young children is a mixed bag. Sometimes, it’s downright miserable. Like last week when my loving daughters passed the stomach bug to yours truly (hence no post). Most of the time, it’s a matter of survival – days full of laundry, paperwork, homework, and trips to the grocery store. But sometimes it’s absolutely magical.

This week I had one of those moments. My eight-year-old was working on a reading comprehension assignment on women’s suffrage. After she went to bed I checked her work. This is what I found:

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I did a double take. Yes. There it was. “It’s all you!”

As I mentioned in my first post, my daughter was floored by the election results. It confused her and opened her eyes to the world in a new way. When she heard the news, I spoke words of love and hope to her. This week, when I read the answer above, I knew she took my words to heart.

A month has passed since the election, and the holidays are upon us. For some, this is a time to rejoice in new leadership. For others, this is a time to reflect, to ponder where we go from here. For me, this is a time to take my daughter’s words to heart.

My generation has grown reliant, complacent, and cynical, leading many of us to be uninvolved. In politics. In charity. In our own communities. That ends now.

I can make a difference. And I will. So can you. You may feel you’re too small, too busy, too something. But you’re not.

Just today, I had lunch at school with my six-year-old daughter and some of the girls in her class. Behind us was a table of children with significant special needs. One of my daughter’s friends waved to a girl at the table. Then she pointed to her mouth. “Wipe your mouth!” she called pleasantly. “You have some food on your mouth!” The girl did so, smiling and enjoying her lunch just as we were.

My daughter’s friend turned back around and looked at me. “She can’t talk, you know.” I told her I knew. “She’s older than me, and she can’t talk.”

I told her it was nice to let her know she had food on her mouth. She gave me a slight smile that said, that’s just how we do it around here. We help each other out. 

Now, it’s important to note that my girls’ school is a special needs magnet with a strong integration program. The kids grow up together, interacting on a daily basis. Children with severe learning disabilities are part of their normal. This first grade girl wasn’t making fun of the girl with food on her mouth. She was doing her a favor, friend to friend. But she did something that mattered.

It mattered to me. It mattered to her friends. It mattered to the girl at the other table.

A small moment from a small child that was anything but small.

As a parent of young children, I see plenty – tears, laughter, snot, and scrapes to the knee. But I also see moments of hope for the future.

Want to see change? Start small. Stand on the shoulders of the suffragettes. Of rule breakers and world changers. Lend a hand. Give a smile. Don’t let fear or sorrow keep you down.

It’s all you.

A lesson from the Pilgrims

/ Laura Phelan / Leave a comment

This morning, America awakes to another Thanksgiving. The 396th to be exact.

In nearly 400 years, we sure have come a long way.

Earlier this month, I took my daughters downtown to the Children’s Museum of Atlanta to explore the Magic Treehouse traveling exhibit. The exhibit features interactive play areas from three of the books in the expansive series, including the one about the first Thanksgiving. We caught this part of the exhibit during story time at the museum and found ourselves alone. This gave the girls plenty of time to gather clams from the water’s edge, roast meat over an open fire, and set the table for the first feast. We talked about how much physical labor children did back then, what they wore, and so much more. It was a tangible lesson at an impressionable age.

Watching my girls role play the first Thanksgiving, I was struck by the differences between then and now.

My daughters paraded around the exhibit in img_2816overalls and red Chuck Taylors. At one point they asked a question I didn’t know the answer to. My little one said, “Well, we can just ask Siri, Mama.” And the open fire thing? Recently, we revised their cho
re chart to include real chores, like vacuuming and cleaning the bathroom. Even that. To have a vacuum and a bathroom to clean. How far we have come.

But that being said, there are similarities between us and the first settlers on America’s shore. The Pilgrims came to this country to escape persecution, to be free to worship the way they wished. My guess is the majority of them came for their children – with the hope that they  would have that and much more. I’d like to even think that some of the women, as they started the morning fire and woke the children to start the days’ chores, dreamed of a time when their daughters would have the opportunity to be more.

Today, immigrants still come to American to escape persecution, not to mention poverty, war, and other hardships we can’t even imagine. In short, for a better life for their children. And for those of us born here, the desire is the same – that our children will have more, be more.

Later today, when you dig in to the feast before you, take a lesson from the Pilgrims. When they crossed the vast ocean in the Mayflower, they were all in it together, whatever may come. 395 years later, we’re all still in the same boat. The landscape may look a bit different, but the hope of the people remains.

Happy Thanksgiving!