family

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

 

 

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!