The Square Peg

ROUND ONE!
When we found out we were moving to Germany, I knew big changes were coming. I knew our family would never be the same again; not in a bad way, just that major evolutionary changes were on the horizon. Little did I know, nearly ten months (at the time of this writing) and two grandbabies on their way later, and voila! The changes are here!

ROUND TWO!
I'm making my way around yet another corner. That's right, you're about to witness my foray into the world of higher education. After a 25 year hiatus.

I'm taking two classes this term: German and Intro to Psych. I need a foreign language credit, so why not now? It'll help me navigate my way through Germany as well as meet a requirement for my degree. I love efficiency. I chose to take Psych because it's a subject I'm interested in.

Today was a day of firsts. The first day of the week. The first day of the month. My first day of college(!). The first time I sat in a classroom and *didn't* have to spell, pronounce or otherwise clarify my last name to a teacher. (Last time I was in school, my surname was McElyea. It wasn't a bad last name, but let's be real: you write Miller and there's no question as to how it's pronounced. Ah, it's the little things in life...LOL)

I like my professor. Her expertise and experience are quite impressive. And I realized that my life isn't going to be the same again. Starting today, and continuing for a long, long time, I will be a student. Hello, homework; goodbye, life!

I feel about going to college the same way I felt about moving to Germany: I am excited about the new opportunity, nervous about the unknown, and keenly aware that things will never be the same again. That's not to say they won't be good. But I hope I embrace the opportunity to further my education as easily and with as much zeal as I have embraced the incredible opportunity to live in Europe.

Stay tuned.

Well, I hadn't figured out how I was going to post my announcement before another post-worthy announcement came along. As often happens in our family, we have to start our story with "see, what had happened was..."

When Moose and I were in Pisa last month, I saw a cute toddler-sized t-shirt at one of the souvenir stands. The thought occurred to me that someday we'll have grandchildren and it'd be really cool if we bought things for them while we're in Europe...starting with a red t-shirt (suitable for a boy or girl) with a picture of Snoopy and Woodstock trying to straighten the leaning tower with Italian and American writing on it. After debating it the first two days I was there, I could not shake the feeling that I needed to get a t-shirt. I knew I'd regret it if I didn't. My thought was that the first grandchild could wear it and pass it along to the others. I planned to post a picture of the shirt on here but accidentally included it in the package I sent to the boys. I've been waiting for Drew to take a pic of the shirt and email it to me so I could include it in my Pisa post and photos.

But apparently I had my ESPN turned on because Drew's girlfriend Ciera is pregnant. She's due late February/early March, so I decided to call the baby Love Bug until/if we find out which variety of grandbaby we're getting. They tried to say I jinxed them by buying that t-shirt, but after doing the math, they were already pregnant when I bought the shirt. Ha! Finally something that can't be blamed on me! LOL

And tonight I got a text from Ryan. Here's how the convo went down:
Ryan: mom 
me: Yes?
Ryan: wanna hear something funny?
me: Yep
Ryan: drew's gonna be an uncle

Yes, we are expecting TWO grandbabies in the spring.

My boys have always referred to themselves as 'the first two punks'; after seeing all the adorable girl clothing and shoes (and accessories) in the stores, here's hoping one of those mini-punks is a punkette.

I had formulated a blog post in my head that consisted of writing to Love Bug to proclaim my love and excitement over his/her existence. But now I have another love bug to write to/about but I don't have an appropriate nickname for him/her. We used to call the boys Thing 1 and Thing 2 (from the Dr. Seuss books), and Moose suggested calling the babies Thing 1 and 2 after their dads, but since Thing 2 is having Grand Thing 1, and Thing 1 is having Grand Thing 2, I think that'd be too confusing.

But what has been decided are our grandparent names. He's Papa Moose and I'm GeeGee. Or should I spell it GG? Or GiGi? Anyway, there you have it. Our babies are having babies. And although their circumstances aren't ideal, we are very excited about these precious gifts.

I think joy is intentional. I also think it's related to peace, as well as happiness.

Joy is intentional. 
There are a million reasons to become upset, hurt, angry, bitter, and depressed in life. People will spitefully use you, maliciously hurt you, take advantage of you, and sometimes even blame you for their own self-destruction. Money won't always be your BFF; neither will your health. And possibly not even a job.

But you can intentionally seek reasons to be joyful.

Christians are supposed to have a hope in Christ, but I know some atheist, agnostic, and humanist friends who are more hopeful during trying times than some of the Christians I know. And we all know someone who is negative about everything, no matter what's going on in his life. You know who I'm talking about: the person you're afraid to ask how things are going because you know he's actually going to tell you. I know a woman who is so negative, that on the occasions when I bump into her, I walk away feeling verbally assaulted with all of her negativity and dissatisfaction with everything around her. And to make it worse, she's a topper. So if she's having it bad, her bad is worse than any bad anyone else has ever had. And her great times are superior to everyone else's as well, although they're few and far in between. It's hard for me to be any kind of friend to this gal because it doesn't seem like she wants to be happy, and I'm a fixer by nature.

Joy is related to peace.
Intentionally looking for reasons to be joyful often brings me around to re-examining my core beliefs and ultimately, I find peace.

I am an eternally optimist person. One of my deeply held beliefs is that things work out well in the end. When things aren't looking good, I'm convinced it's not the end. I'm still sitting in my seat, waiting for the fat lady to sing.

I've navigated my fair share of life's hardships. And I can honestly tell you that through all of them, I have believed that some how, some way, at some point, things will make sense and they'll work out for the best. Now, that 'best' isn't always what I thought was best, but I've always been able to look back on a situation or season after it was over and see that what it ended up looking like was indeed, for the best. Including the two-month marriage to my physically abusive ex-husband, as well as the ensuing two years it took me to legally get him out of my life. It was a pretty rough season in my life, but when I look back on that tumultuous time, I can definitively say I never felt alone. And that's a peace that brings joy.
It's hard to stay cranky and bitter when you trust the One who says He loves you and has you in the palm of His hand. I personally believe God loves us simply because we exist. After all, that's why I love my kids. My love for them never hinges on their behavior and I expect God is the same. When I find that I'm having a pretty easy time gettin my grumpy on, it's usually because I'm not confident that God is still on the throne. Thinking I'm here alone feeling lost and abandoned makes me do crazy, desperate things. But stopping to catch my breath, and remembering the things I've already experienced relating to God's character, usually brings the proverbial cold water splash to the face that snaps me back to a reality of confident knowledge. And that leads to happiness because I am able to intentionally find some joy in life.

Let's take off that Garment of Grumpiness and go find some joy. Cause our Daddy loves us like no other and despite how we might "feel", that actually means something. And let's not trust our emotions all the time; they have a tendency to take off and when they do, we don't want to be on board.

Eva

There once was a woman who was sitting in her kitchen with a guest, chatting and sippin' on iced, sweet tea. After a while, the hostess suddenly smacked her guest on back of the hand. The guest began to howl claims of disbelief and pain. She went home, wailing to anyone who would listen about what a terrible person the hostess was.
The end.

Sucky story, huh? I thought so, too.

At first, it's easy to think wow, that hostess is something else.

But shouldn't we instead wonder:
Why did the hostess smack her guest's hand?
What did the guest *do* to warrant getting smacked?
I think we should.

The "no boundary = no fault" attitude that's becoming increasingly prevalent really gets my panties in a bunch more than almost anything else I can think of. More than I can tolerate without speaking up. This isn't about a specific person or situation; I'm talking about an entitlement mentality that's making its way across the planet. And it's destroying relationships in its wake.

People who are generally without boundaries in their life often have something in common with one another (aside from the 'no boundaries' philosophy): they rarely have any fault or morsel of responsibility in all previously failed or strained relationships, be they of the marriage, parenting or friendship type.

Coincidence?

I don't think so.

I think this happens because they'd rather hide behind a false pretense than face their weaknesses, insecurities or admit their own lack of integrity.

I think some of them think it's about who did more 'wrong' in a specific situation. But it's not. It's actually about owning 100% of your part...even if that part is only 2%. Because if you deny your 2%, it gets magnified. Truth won't be mocked; it always comes out.

A person's lack of boundaries does not entitle him or her to do or say whatever he or she wants without suffering consequences. If I invite a gal over to my house for dinner, she doesn't just get to help herself to the cookies in the jar on the counter. (I'm speaking metaphorically, of course; we all know I detest baking...if I even *had* a cookie jar, it'd probably contain individually wrapped Oatmeal Creme Pies.)

There are two ways to handle a situation like this. One way is to ignore it and hope it goes away on its own. This isn't really a viable option because it leaves the ignorer feeling disrespected while the offender remains ignorant.

The second way to handle it is to care enough to confront. While it might really suck to have to talk about something that could hurt feelings or cause moments of awkwardness, it solves a couple things in the long run. Either the offender will find someone else's space to invade and assault (and is thereby no longer your problem), or you will cause the offender to rethink her behavior, and provide her with an opportunity for much-needed growth.

I will most certainly (albeit metaphorically) smack the back of her hand. And if she feigns shock and awe when I call her on it and put her back in her place, I'm OK with that. Unbalanced relationships with unrealistic expectations aren't something I'm interested in being a part of. Most other people aren't, either, from the data I've gathered. 

If you confront and lose a relationship, so be it. But you have to be your own advocate if you want  your boundaries respected and maintained. If good fences make good neighbors, then boundaries make good relationships.

Give some thought to yours.

There are a few topics I've been planning to write about and mentoring is one of them, but I wasn't sure how I wanted to broach the subject. The church we've been visiting has a Bible study for women and I accepted the invitation to participate even before I knew the subject of this session's study. I was pretty excited because mentoring is a huge passion of mine. Since we've been discussing it the last few weeks, it seems that now is the time to share some of my thoughts about mentoring.

It's easy to feel alone on our journey through life, and being able to talk to someone who has gone before you is not only comforting, it can be helpful if they're willing to share what they've learned along the way. But you have to be willing to be open, and maybe even change a belief or two. Or twelve.

Most people have a mentor whether they're aware of it or not. Mentors aren't necessarily all-encompassing on life's issues. Many times a mentor is simply a guide for a particular area or season. Some women have mentored me in the area of parenting, others have been mentors for my role as a wife, and others mentored me when I was homeschooling our boys. At one point, I had a mentor who sat down with me each week and asked me several accountability questions, in addition to letting me ask her questions I had about life and faith. I even had a grandparent mentor in Georgia. Moose and I were privy to be friends with a very wise couple whose relationship with their children and grandchildren we *deeply* admire. We took good mental notes and will intentionally imitate some of the things we watched them do with the express hope of reaping some of the results that manifested in their lives/relationships with their kids and grands.

Who is a mentor? Anyone you ever go to for advice or opinion is a type of mentor to you. Obviously you think they may know or see something you don't, otherwise you wouldn't seek them out, right? But do the people you go to for advice propel you forward?

Training is at the core of mentoring/discipleship, so as a parent, I mentored my boys even though they didn't always want or accept my training, leading, guiding or instruction/advice. Ryan has told me several times that he realizes how right I've been about many of the things I've told him through the years. He's also told me how really annoying this is to him. LOL. Sidebar: I don't understand why he can't embrace and appreciate the fact that his mom knows a thing or two about life that can help him avoid potential heartache and pitfalls. I mean, there's no point in both of us paying for therapy, RIGHT?! Anyway...

Since everybody goes to somebody for advice, my question is: what qualifies a person to be your mentor? Are her kids older than yours and you know her mom-experience will give you new tools to use when training your own kids? Does he have a really solid relationship with his wife and you have a desire to fortify your own marriage? Has she been in an abusive relationship so she's able to understand your struggle to break free from a destructive association and move forward without any shackles? Does she have confidence you wish you had and you want to know where it comes from? Has he taken a strong stand that came with a high price, such as losing his job, or the acceptance of his friends? Or do you seek advice from anybody who'll lend you their ear? It's been said "more is caught than taught". Think about what you've caught and ask yourself if you need to make a more concerted effort to be trained and aimed. Training is the act of intentionally teaching knowledge and practical how-to; being aimed is about learning to use your powers for good.

If you've shied away from being a mentor because you don't think you're qualified, think again. If you've ever opened your mouth to give an opinion or advice, you obviously felt qualified. (Hopefully if you knew you weren't, you kept your lip zipped. hee hee) Mentoring isn't about bossing somebody around or telling them how to run their life. Sometimes asking questions so the other person can evaluate things and draw their own conclusions does as much to train, teach, guide and lead than any amount of blatant instruction can do.

So to sum up:
Having a mentor is beneficial.
Don't be stingy, be a sieve; share what you've learned (from life and your mentor) with someone else.
Be discreet. Everybody needs a safety zone. And nobody likes a blabbermouth.
Withhold judgment. People need a soft place to fall.

I'll share more thoughts as the study progresses.

By chance can any of you tell me why the itch to write hits me at 1 am? What's up with that? I prefer that writer's block hit me during the hours of 11pm-7am. Can I work out a trade? :D