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Praying for Closed Doors
“I don’t know which college to pick. I got into these two schools and I like them equally, but I’m afraid to pick the wrong one.” When we ran a GAP-year program in Baja, MX, each class of students lived with us from August to June. They were all recent high school graduates and no one had lived away from home yet. Tied in knots between quality universities, we watched them makes lists of pros and cons and worry for weeks, sometimes months. Cal Baptist or Moody? Point Loma or Liberty? Baylor or Westmont? Azusa or Biola? If you attended one of those schools, you most likely have a gut…
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Trust, but Verify
Dude #1: “I am so glad I checked.” Dude #2: “I would do anything to be able to go back and check.” Where do you fall when it comes to verifying information that could tip the scales toward relief or disaster? As a mom, it’s my job, my right, and my responsibility to ask my kids questions about their outings, friends, whereabouts, etc. Sometimes (ahem—like this morning) I get major pushback, but I press on. Why? Because regrets carry weight and guilt, and teens actually want boundaries. Prudence: Careful, wise discernment; the good management of talents and resources and the showing of tact and wisdom in relationships with other…
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Back to Work, Back to Reality
His calm voice sounded kind, but his words surprised me. “We’re spending too much and not bringing in enough. I think we need you to start working.” My husband was right, mostly, but the hardest part of his comment was that I already feel like I work. I wish my writing provided a full-time, regular income, but while keeping up a blog and writing a book pushes me forward, neither are helping our bottom line at the moment. I countered with logic. “I’m happy to work a conventional job, but don’t you think we could just cut some corners and spend less?” “Maybe a little, but I want to go out…
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Lord of the Flaws
Though some exasperated parents might joke about dropping their sassy Tweens on an island, I’m fairly certain no parent would want the experience to resemble William Golding’s version. My son brought home his 7th-grade required reading list last month. I scanned it, unfazed until I reached the one title that zipped me right back to my 7th-grade English class and made me cringe. Lord of the Flies still remains one of my all-time least-loved books. Ever. Visions of being totally grossed out to the max and putting it down after reading each chapter still linger. Bloodthirsty boys painting their faces, stalking a beast, killing pigs, and eventually turning on some…
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The Day I Deleted Her Info: Saying Goodbye to a Lifelong Friend
Just because two sets of parents are good friends doesn’t mean their offspring will follow suit. So was the case with Chelsea and me. We saw each other every summer at Mount Hermon and ran through camp together while our parents hung out and caught up. It took 358 days to bring us together again, and we continued that pattern through childhood and adolescence. I’m writing a book for a woman about grit and resilience. Besides living in another country for 12 years, I haven’t had many events or occasions that forced me to dig in and claw my way out. And in a weird way, I feel bad about…
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Classy Smut: TV Shows That Suck Us In
I walked by the dilapidated Baja house with the window open and heard it. I visited Porvenir friends in the middle of the afternoon and saw it. Almost every time we ate tacos early, like old people, we saw it again—at our favorite stand, just above the raw meat. Ask any woman in most Latin American countries what rules the mid-mornings and afternoons at home and they’ll probably say the same thing: Novelas. Known as Soap Operas in English, the name originated from the squeaky clean stuff we call soap. Since most women worked at home in the 1930s, daytime dramas targeted them and their cleaning needs. The networks required…
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Your Hoopie’s Showing
My grandma. So sweet and helpful. If you ever wore a necklace in her presence and the clasp slid around toward the front, she was your girl. “Oh here, honey, let me help you. Your hoopie’s showing.” I naturally learned from an early age how hoopies should be on the back of my neck and only the back. Letting them rotate to the front looked unkept/disheveled. I also learned wrinkled clothing was a no-no. From t-shirts and jeans to knickers and parachute pants, everything qualified. Does this give you hives? Let’s be clear though: I’m still a fan of ironed clothes if I’m going somewhere that demands a grown-up…
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I Like it When You Say That. Now Please Stop.
I’m weak, okay? There–I said it. I’d like to think I can handle whatever gets thrown my way, but no. So in an effort to change and grow, I’ve made a list. These random observations have been bothering me lately so I thought I’d bother you with them. In no particular order, I offer you three things I like to hear: Numero Uno: Your Kids Are So Tall! I know—I’ve done it too. Well-intentioned words that sound like compliments, as if the child got that high on the measuring stick based on talent. Besides the fact they already know it, there’s nothing inherently wrong with telling kids they’re tall. The…
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Adjusting the Scales of Honesty: Do White Lies Count?
“Hey, boys—throw this blanket on top of the sacks. And make sure you get the corners.” I cringed in opposition. Did he just involve our children in a hidden importation? I turned my head to the west and spaced out while he drove. Lest you feel the urge to judge, think about this: if you were taking a twenty-dollar item across the border, would you be willing to pull over and pay a six-hundred-dollar fee for it? Behold, one of my most humbling posts ever. Thoughts of a corrupt government, two years of paying 16% taxes, border agents who charge whatever they’re feeling like that day, and insane importation…
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Gossip: Loose Lipps Sink Ships
“Some say our national pastime is baseball. Not me. It’s gossip.” ~ Erma Bombeck When he welcomed us into his rad classroom, we eighth graders knew we finally made it to the top. To be in Mr. Lipps’ class meant we got the cool English teacher. Of all my junior high classes, this particular one simultaneously thrilled and unnerved me. The middle-aged, borderline hippie spoke with authority and sauntered between our desks with an abundance of confidence. His “Loose Lipps Sink Ships” poster spanned the width of one wall and sat higher than our heads when we stood. It struck me as deep… forward-thinking… high school-ish. And I had no idea…