Learning to Hold Things Loosely

With three sons passing through the teenage driving stage, I'm not new to car accidents. We've been down this road more than our fair share, I believe. I've had three myself. I hit a tree when backing out of my professor's driveway (while driving my then best friend's car - hmm, no longer best friend 😉). Another time, I glanced at an accident while turning at an intersection and didn't expect a fire truck parked inside the intersection. Yes, I hit a fire truck (not the big kind, mind you, but still...). Finally, a large construction vehicle backed into the road. I was the fifth car back. By the time the car in front of me slammed on the brakes, it left insufficient time for me to stop and I plowed into his vehicle. He was very nice about it - my husband (we were separated at the time), not so much!

My oldest son had three car accidents. The first time, there was condensation on his windshield. He tried to scrape it off, but it remained. Sadly, he drove even though he couldn't properly see. He hit another student's car as she made her way out of the school parking lot. The second time, he misjudged his timing, assuming he had time to turn in front of an oncoming vehicle. He told me with exasperation, "Mom, she saw me and she sped up!" His third accident left us reeling. He was fine, yes, but his beloved Mustang was not.

Now, it is my middle son's turn. When he first began driving, a fox ran out into the road and hit the front of his vehicle. Next, he hit a patch of ice and slid into a stop sign (oh, wait - I've had 4!!! - I hit a patch of ice and slid into a telephone pole, yikes!), requiring a door replacement. Now, he has had his third accident. On the way home from work, on the back country roads, he skimmed the side of a concrete bridge. When we arrived, he was partway in the grass and the tire that was hit was almost perpendicular from the other. They had to change this tire's position to transport it on the tow truck.

This was his beloved convertible. I'm grateful he's alive. No limbs were broken, and the car didn't flip. Still, he is beside himself with grief and determination to fix the thing (please, Lord, don't let him pour more money into a dying vehicle!). He sees only cosmetic damage and thinks it is not a big deal to purchase a new door, etc. Yet, the body shop's initial estimate (which, we all know how those things go up) was $8K. Even if he wanted to fix it himself, he doesn't have that skill set. Plus, we don't know what damage was done to the axle and engine. Needless to say, this has been a stressful start to a new year, following an extremely stressful year.

On the bright side, God answered both prayers offered in the way we hoped. The Lord kept these precious sons safe. Thank you, Lord! Please continue to hold them tightly in Your hand.

Mid-month Mention #2: Ben's Ranch Barn Bash Fundraiser

I've been fortunate in my life to have benefited from some excellent counseling. Not just the kind where a counselor sits and listens and jots notes on a notepad, expecting the mere act of vomiting forth all your pain to somehow alleviate your mental and emotional anguish. No, my life changed by some grace-based, in-your-face counseling. The kind where you're called on the carpet for your dysfunction and have to look it square in the eye, perhaps for the first time in your life.

But when my son was full of anxiety and seeking all the wrong answers to overwhelming questions, our stab at counseling came up empty. Sometimes traditional therapy and counseling can't make a dent in a problem. For me, I felt a gentle internal nudge to seek something for him in nature and with animals. So, on the heels of our failed counseling attempts, I discovered Ben's Ranch, a non-profit organization in the Indianapolis area that recognizes the powerful elixir available to young people when they connect with nature and animals by working on a farm or ranch. Time with animals is healing. Hard work on a farm is enriching and character-building. My son's internship with Ben's Ranch bore out tangible improvements.

He wasn't riding the horses or even brushing them down, but his work clearing their stalls and replenishing water and hay nurtured a new self-confidence. A sense of accomplishment. He recognized visible results from his efforts. It was hard, outdoor work and required the discipline of heading to the ranch for two hours every weekday morning to muck out the stalls.

Our benefits surpassed individual maturity. Our son was 16 and still learning to drive, so I had to accompany him. I relished those morning commutes because, while he was driving, he was a captive audience. We had many in-depth conversations we might not have snatched were it not for those morning trips to a ranch in a town twenty minutes away. Because of the distance, it seemed a waste of time and gas for me to return home, so instead I brought along my lap-top and began working on a collection of poems about the experience of parenting a struggling teen. When your teen is in a rough patch, the road is bumpy for you, too.

Ben's Ranch is a relatively new non-profit organization. They have a fundraiser coming up and I wanted to highlight many of the ways you and I can partner with them to bring these healing opportunities to anguished teens. Here is the information on their flyer:

My husband and I have purchased tickets to the Barn Bash and plan to attend. In fact, I'll be there selling my book, with part of the proceeds going to support their foundation. It's an opportunity to visit Connor Prairie, enjoy yard games, and maybe even fit in a hot air balloon ride. 

If you live in the Indianapolis area and are interested in finding a helpful non-profit organization to support, consider following this link to the Ben's Ranch website events page.

You don't have to commit to the whole afternoon or dinner. You might wish to simply purchase tickets to the 4 p.m. panel discussion on "Teen Mental Health and Our Schools." Panel participants are highlighted on the above linked events page. Even if you can't attend the Barn Bash, consider making a donation or check out the items up for bid in their silent auction. The silent auction is available for on-line bidders, as well, at this link. The bidding opens 4/24/23 and closes at 5:30 p.m. on 4/30/23. You don't have to attend or live in Indianapolis in order to bid, as they will ship items to winners outside the area. My book is the only Buy-it-Now item available. Why not support this helpful organization?

Compilation - A Baker's Dozen Parenting Books

My in-home parenting days are numbered. My youngest is knee-deep in driver's training and has only 2-1/4 more years of high school. But, I have reviewed quite a few parenting books on my blog. Primarily, I seem to gravitate toward two subjects: brain development and discipline. Here are 13 books on parenting, in order from first read to last read. I have also added an asterisk to identify ones that I highly recommend:

1. Bright from the Start by Jill Stamm
2. How to Raise a Child With High EQ by Lawrence Shapiro PhD
3. The Whole Brain Child by Daniel Siegel MD and Tina Payne Bryson PhD *
4. Honeycomb Kids by Anna M. Campbell
5. Why Smart Kids Worry by Allison Edwards LPC
6. No-Drama Discipline by Daniel Siegel MD and Tina Payne Bryson PhD *
7. The Teenage Brain by Frances E Jensen MD with Amy Ellis Nutt
8. The Opposite of Spoiled by Ron Lieber
9. The Five Money Conversations by Scott and Bethany Palmer
10. Thirty Million Words by Dana Suskind MD *
11. The Power of Praying for Your Adult Children by Stormie Omartian
12. The Age of Opportunity by Paul David Tripp *
13. The Addiction Inoculation by Jessica Lahey

While I'm sure this list is miniscule compared to how many books cover this subject, I may have read one you never encountered. Moreover, if you are looking for parenting books, this provides a wide variety of options and several that I can highly recommend.

Falls, Fails, Fears, and Favors

FALLS:

Tuesday, May 17th, was an unfortunate day. My father was taking my mother for a walk in her wheelchair when he hit a rut in the road. In attempting to keep my mother from spilling to the ground, he held firm to the handles and flipped over landing on his side, shattering his Apple watch, and bruising his ribs. They wondered if my mom had broken her shoulder in the fall, but x-rays revealed no break. 

They were both quite sore for a while, yet still managed to drive over to Orlando to visit with my sister and her family and my older brother, Mark, and his family, all vacationing there at the time. I was green with envy seeing their little reunion over our favorite pizza, Giordano's:

(My parents, brother, and sister are all at the far end of the table. Look at that pizza! Yum!)

FAILS

Also on Tuesday, May 17th, Trevor had an accident while in his weightlifting class at school. Both Trevor and Sean have been intensely committed to the weightlifting program. Trevor is in the "1000 club" and Sean in the "900 club." Trevor is one of the best lifters at his school and they hound him constantly, wanting him back on the football team. But with a job at Culver's and a girlfriend, he feels he doesn't have time for football.

Trevor was maxing that day, lifting 495 pounds, when he failed. The safety bars were set too low, so he landed on his rear and, in going down, heard his knee pop. He arrived home limping, convinced that it was merely a torn meniscus and nothing to worry about. But, we were concerned enough to take him to the doctor on Wednesday, where he had x-rays.

FEARS

Although the x-rays revealed no bone breakage, the doctor was pretty sure it was a torn ACL or PCL ligament and would require surgery. We were so disheartened, having been through that whole ordeal with his broken leg back in 2018. The prospect of more pain medication terrified us. We immediately began praying over the situation. On Thursday, he had an MRI. On Friday, they called to inform us that the MRI showed no harm to the meniscus or the ACL/PCL ligaments. Apparently, just like in his broken leg, he had a cyst in that spot. The cyst popped and the fluid caused the swelling, pain, and inability to fully straighten his leg. What a praise! No surgery! No 6-12 month recovery time! No lengthy restrictions on lifting. We were so relieved.

FAVORS

My poetry book, Watching the Wayward: Psalms for Parents of Prodigals, has been out in e-book format for almost two months. In the initial publicity, for a week in April, it garnered the #1 new release in Religious and Inspirational poetry. 

Then it dipped, but later rose again to #33 in Religious and Inspirational Poetry. 

Slowly, I've been accumulating a few reviews and on May 26th the book ranking jumped back up to #25. I so appreciate the individuals who took the time to leave a review.

Now, the paperback is set to release on June 7th. The week prior to this release is of utmost importance. Amazon will schedule the book's availability through their site based on the number of clicks and purchases made prior to that release date.

So, the favor I am asking: please take a moment and FOLLOW THIS LINK to the book's listing, to drive up the interest markers and aid in the availability of my book to those who wish to purchase it and have it readily available. Of course, if you are interested, I would love an actual purchase, either from Amazon or directly from my publisher. 

Just a reminder, you can easily access sample pages from the Amazon page or seven sample poems in pdf form from my author website. And, if you know a parent of a prodigal, please pass the word along about this resource. It is an extremely isolating road to walk and just knowing someone feels your pain speaks volumes to distraught parents. If you bought the book and are willing, please leave an honest review on the Amazon page. Thanks in advance for any action you take to improve the prospects of my book launch.

Teen's Car Purchase Prompts Intense Prayer

When my oldest son reached driving age, he took over one of our cars. Two minor accidents should have resonated in our brains when he needed a new vehicle. Alas, it did not. Bryce found a Mustang he wanted and, with a bit of help from us and his grandmother, he bought the car. I presented a prayer on my blog for his care and safety in using that vehicle.

Mere months later, we grieved the loss of that car. Again, with our middle son, we let him drive one of our cars. Sadly, because of the miles he was logging (in trips to work and to visit his girlfriend, who lives quite a distance away), he wanted to buy his own vehicle so that he could drive the amount of miles he desired and not what we dictated. We hoped to shop around for a safe and appealing vehicle, swearing we would NOT help him buy something like a Mustang (still sore memories).

Alas, things conspired out of our control. We were already feeling the crunch of three drivers and only two vehicles, when the darn Pontiac (oh, the money we have plowed into that vehicle for repairs, etc.) began to shudder during his drive home. Unwilling to plow more money into that dying vehicle, Trevor needed another car quick! I scoured the internet and found one he agreed on. It was a Ford Focus and, though it was a half-hour drive away, we were ready to go see it the next morning, last Saturday. Unfortunately, by morning the listing was down.

I went back to the drawing board and found a fantastic deal on a 2000 Chevy Impala with 1 previous owner and only 26,000 miles. How is that even possible? That owner put less than 1,300 miles on it each year. The price was a bit more than we wanted to spend, but appeared doable.

Once again, it was a half-hour distance away. As we pulled into the lot, I had hesitations. Then, Trevor saw the car and didn't like the gear shift's placement or the minimal and hidden cup-holders. I was just as glad because I had a terrible feeling about the whole place. I prayed throughout their test drive and rejoiced when he also turned down a second vehicle they showed him (green - yikes).

He had previously mentioned one day getting a convertible. Indeed, I had taken down information on a convertible for sale at a dealership in the town next to ours. It was the lowest priced car on my list. On Monday morning, we'd have to have two vehicles (Trevor heading to the ranch and Sean to pick up his retainer - yes, the braces are off - yippee!). Thus, we desperately needed to complete plans and secure a second working vehicle pronto. So, I called. We went. He saw. He drove, and we left with Trevor the owner of a 2003 (1 previous owner, 134K miles) Chrysler Sebring for a sticker price of under $4000.

I am again covering the boy in prayer: that he will drive safely, that the car will not turn out to be a lemon (the mechanic we had check it said the previous owner took really good care of it), that he will enjoy this teen-boy-dream, and that he will gain a sense of responsibility in owning this vehicle (of course, my husband officially owns it for another year and 1 month). That sounds like a tall order! Still, I pray for it fervently. Teen boys and cars - a true test of trusting God.

Book Review: Age of Opportunity - Highly Recommend

When children are young, parents guide and control so much. Ah, the warm memories of their little hands tugging on my shirt begging me to read a book or soothe a pain. My boys are no longer in that stage where they seek my intervention and guidance. They may still need it, but they think they are above it. Indeed, it often feels like they believe they know everything (as when I recently discovered my youngest still up at 2 a.m.). 

I tell you, parenting teens is tough! So many emotions swirl around me when I consider the precious years I have left with my two youngest sons. I waver between relief and remorse that in only a few years they'll be out of our home. This limited amount of time is both a blessing and a challenge. How will I ever get these two prepared for the world they will enter when they leave us? How can I slow down time to savor each available moment?

Paul David Tripp's instructive book, Age of Opportunity: A Biblical Guide to Parenting Teens, encourages parents not to view the teen years as something to survive, but to view them as an opportunity for investing growth. I love Tripp's perspective. He reminds parents that the very things that incense us about our teenagers reflect sin issues within ourselves. He asserts his core truth as "Our teenagers are more like us than they are unlike us.... All of the spiritual needs we will recognize in our teenagers are in some way identifiable in us." Yes, on plenty of occasions, I have approached my heavenly Father with the attitude that I know everything, including what is best for me.

I agreed wholeheartedly with Tripp's insights, especially in regard to parenting my particularly rebellious teenager. The other day, I read a post on Facebook about a respected psychologist whose teen son took one fatal experiment with a drug. She was an educated and informed parent. He was a good kid. Yet, still, the encounter with fentanyl stripped them both of the lives they expected to live. It incensed me when I read one particular commenter's callous remarks. This woman (from her vast realm of experience, obviously) blamed the parent. Her first comment was, "Why is a teen allowed access to drugs?" It was as if every response emboldened her further: "What [about] DARE... or good old-fashioned values of 'just say no' - so many parents are out of touch with their kids. 100 percent the parents' fault if the kid is underage." This commenter admitted her children are 9 and 4. May she never receive the boomerang from her insensitive and judgmental words.

As onlookers have watched our rebellion issues, they have asserted it is a matter of enforced rules and parental control. This author counters that argument and supports my perspective: "It is a short-term victory at best to control the behavior of a teen whose heart is not submissive to God.... The rules-and-regulations approach that focuses on keeping the teenager 'out of trouble' will ultimately fail because it does not deal with the heart.... All such parental interventions are attempts to produce what only God can produce. They... produce... fruit that decays as soon as the pressure is removed."

So what does Tripp suggest? Above all, we should demonstrate the grace that God bestows upon us when we sin. We should guide our children into biblically based views on life and culture. He also highlights three strategies: project parenting, constant conversation, and leading your teenager to repentance. John and I both continue to pray for godly heart changes in our sons, the changes only God can produce. The drives to and from my prodigal son's ranch job have been such a blessing. He is often a captive audience, and it allows me to pursue that constant conversation. 

I loved that Tripp points the parent reader to reflect on their own sin-tendencies and to view every challenge as an opportunity to demonstrate and display God's grace. This was a reminder I needed to hear. It shifts anger at rebellion into calmer understanding and a more humble response. I recommend this book to anyone who struggles with parenting teens. Plus, here is a link to the video that first introduced me to Paul David Tripp - The Gospel Coalition presentation called "Mirror of Sin and Means of Grace: Parents Are Works in Progress, Too." Highly recommend it!  

Politics, Pandemics, and Prodigals, Oh My!

Photo by Nicole Wreyford on Unsplash

It is November 2020. I am sick to death of my Facebook feed, exploding daily with fomentation of conflicting perspectives. Back and forth, each side insists that their man will lead them to the healing this land needs. "If only So and so is in power, we will see humankind improve." I don't buy it. 

Human effort can never eradicate the ramifications of spiritual illness. No matter who sits in the White House, America remains threatened by wholesale acceptance of sin and sin's infectious disease. This is the true pandemic. The insidious, invisible illness. Are you infected? Is anyone else infected by your actions, your movements? We are free to move about the country, passing along the virus indiscriminately. We are free to place our trust wherever political argument moves us the most. Why do we seek a political cure for a spiritual disease? Arguing a political perspective rarely changes human action.

If plagued by butting heads in our nation, I'm also tormented by butting heads in my home. I've been living in the parable of the prodigal son. Camped there for a season. Fully frustrated with my child's rebellious choices. Equally frustrated that the loving father in the parable does not force his child's compliance. God knows what man needs, yet allows him to choose the very action that creates the chasm. God, in His sovereignty, knows the consequences of our choices. Despite concern for our best interest, He will not dictate our way. There's an old Salvation Army chorus that declares, "His way is best you see... I'm in His hands." (Take a moment, it is worth the listen. Or view the full lyrics, with verses.) But, alas, we can ignore His commands, walk away from the Father, follow the road signs that declare "Happiness... ten miles down the road." Many say, "Get Your hands off me! This is my body! This is my life!"

It is like my child is on a train. The tracks have been blown to smithereens further down... is it over a flat surface or over a catastrophic abyss? Will the end bring minimal damage or maximum devastation? I can't guess the end, but I believe the One who knows and sees the impending danger. And so I post my signs, offer my arguments. Stop! These tracks are not reliable. Danger up ahead! Get off the train before it is too late.

But other signs stand posted, and he persists in following those. They read: "This is the answer to your problems. This will bring you the happiness and comfort you desire. Don't listen to the naysayers. They just want to spoil your fun. You have a perfect right to live as you choose. Stay on the train. Enjoy the view."

Relativists say, "You have your truth. I have mine. You believe what you want and I will believe what I want." I don't buy relativism either. Absolute truth exists. Both sides cannot be right at the same time. Yet, even when truth is crystal clear, man will rationalize and justify his departure.

For example, I've been listening to Siddhartha Mukherjee's excellent biography of cancer. The current chapters describe studies with incontrovertible evidence that smoking causes lung cancer. Yet the tobacco companies, eager for profit, spun advertising campaigns to minimize the evidence or call it into question. One man, disturbed by the one-sided advertising petitioned that truths from the other perspective deserved equal time so that an individual could parse through the evidence and make an educated decision about their actions. But here's the dilemma. Even when faced with evidence that smoking causes cancer, people continue to light up a cigarette. Their perceived benefits outweigh the arguments against use. As the book highlighted, some will walk away from chemotherapy and insist on having a smoke. You could post a sign saying "The bridge is out!" and they puff away, smile and say, "Just look at that view!"

Alas, I am a prime example of this. I'm knee-deep in a book about the protocol for Dr. Dale Bredesen's End of Alzheimer's program. As if to set the signs aglow in neon, I had a most troubling experience the other day. We sat at the table. I was disturbed because John had added pepper to the corn (flavoring he desires and I do not). As the others started eating, I said, "Aren't we going to pray?" They looked at me as if I had sprouted a second head. "Mom, we just prayed. You even bowed your head." It brought me to tears. I had no recollection of the moment they insisted had just occurred. Of course, wanting to reassure me, John said it happened because I was perseverating about the pepper on the corn. True, but I saw the sign.

For all the research into better diet and the books about lessening my chances of disease and difficulty, I continue to eat foods I know harm my health. I'd rather enjoy the taste of my cream cheese squares than begin again to rein in my out-of-control eating habits. Argue all you want. I'm going to disregard what I know to be true and eat what I know to be unhealthy.

As for my child, he may persist too. We can argue our perspective until the end of time, but he is free to choose what he will. When we present evidence, he pooh-poohs it and points to articles that support his position. He can find someone to defend his beliefs. He can say, "Get your rules off me! This is my life, my future, my decision." As Proverbs 21:2 says, "Every way of a man is right in his own eyes."

Given the inadequacy of argument, I should despair. If reason does not show the way and if reason, even when admitted, doesn't slow the way, what are we to do? But there I am clear. Arguments will not alter hearts. Superior debating will not affect change. God, in His wisdom, shows me the way. Philippians 4:6 - "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God." Luke 18:1 - "He told them a parable to the effect that they ought always to pray and not lose heart." Only by the grace of God will spiritual eyes open and physical lives mend.

This is the only viable solution for our country, as well. A president will neither make America great again nor make America nice again. It is only a man behind the curtain with no magical powers. As long as we refuse to turn from our wicked ways, we can expect the outcome in which we sit. We cannot contact trace this disease of sin. And God will not allow sin to reign forever. Even His patience has an end. But, His solution again? 2 Chronicles 7:14 - "If my people who are called by my name humble themselves, and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and heal their land." Romans 12:12 - "Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer." I beg God to root out the pride and pigheadedness within me and remind me of His sovereignty. As Charles Spurgeon wrote, "When you go through a trial, the sovereignty of God is the pillow upon which you lay your head." I'm on my knees for my nation, for my family, for my son. Our solution? Repent of sin, accept His grace, and follow God's biblical road.

Prayer for a Wayward Son

Photo by Joshua Earle on Unsplash

Prayer for a Wayward Son

by Wendy Hill

2/28/20

I'm his biggest problem -

I hem him in

when he wants wings to fly.

But I can see the pig slop, Lord -

His future laid out plain.

He pictures good times; 

I glimpse ruin and brokenness.
He wants our provision without our authority.

If only I could protect him, Lord.

How do you contain someone

determined to run from you?

My arms are reaching;

My heart aching.

I know You recognize and feel my pain.
Even while You pursue us, we break Your heart.

How do You contain someone

determined to run from You?
We beg your blessing, yet balk at your boundaries
positioned to protect us.

We think our way is best;

Our destination crystal clear to You.
We are our biggest problem.

Lord, save us from ourselves!

Turn our feet back to the path toward home.

Book Review: Life Inside My Mind

The National Institute of Mental Health estimates that 31.9 % of U.S. adolescents aged 13 to 18 suffer from some form of anxiety disorder. That's almost a third of the teens in that age group. To me, this sounds like an epidemic problem. I was already aware of this statistic because I have referred to it in several query letters attempting to pitch my young adult novel, The Probability Code. Indeed, adolescent anxiety has been on my radar ever since a relative of mine began to suffer significantly.

When I picked up Life Inside My Mind, I was hoping to find a title I could pass along to my afflicted family member. The book provides a collection of essays from 31 young adult authors who bare their souls to increase awareness and to provide solidarity and suggestions for those who suffer from anxiety. To be fully honest, I struggled with the intensity of the book. I've experienced chronic depression and panic attacks. Indeed, on a visit to The Indianapolis Children's Museum, the crowds and the crush set me hyperventilating. I had to seek out a small space near a window to calm myself and stave off a public panic attack.Yet after reading this book, I feel as if I have only stuck my little toe into the water, while these authors have crossed the ocean.

Every imaginable mental health issue is addressed. Various authors outline their personal struggles with anxiety, panic attacks, OCD, ADHD, depression, suicidal thoughts and actions, bipolar, drug and alcohol addictions, PTSD, and even a condition called Trichotillomania (compulsively pulling out one's hair or eyelashes). I was overwhelmed with their stories. Each new raw tale brought that conflicting battle one experiences when passing an accident on the road. I was deeply drawn to seeing the raw truth of their experience, but equally wanted to avert my eyes for fear the images might be seared into my memory, never to be washed away. And I agonized over this review.

While I certainly want to commend the authors for being so incredibly vulnerable and real, I'm concerned about teens who pick up this book. Will they feel even more overwhelmed than they already are? Will their anxiety increase when they read of the extremes of other life experiences? Do I want to add more anxiety to an already plagued mind? Several of the stories did just that to me. I was terrified by the tale of PTSD after the author was attacked twice in her own home. What if that happened to me? I was saddened by the sheer number of authors available to tell these harrowing tales. Our world is clearly messed up when 31 of our young adult authors can share such serious tales of woe. The drug use, the alcohol consumption, the dependency on prescriptions to alleviate symptoms (one author tells of being prescribed twelve times the average dose of Xanax).

In my head, I want to acknowledge that teens will feel heard and understood. They will be able to say, "See, someone else gets it. This is destroying my life and somebody else has walked the road before me." But, will teens take in the prescriptive advice to rest, eat well, exercise, stay clean, talk to someone, and get medical help? What can we do, as a society, to get our world back to the place where the most pressing problem for a teen was how to fill a boring weekend night? With cyber-bullying, school shootings, easy access to addictive substances like drugs, alcohol, and porn, why are we surprised that a third of our teens struggle with anxiety? We need to do more than build awareness. We need to combat the societal pressures increasing the numbers of the afflicted. And then I despair all the more, because it seems like we cannot go back to those idyllic days. We are destined for more pressures than we already know.

So, no. I won't be handing this book off to my beleaguered relative. I want to shield her from the troubled truths outlined in this book. While some of the authors tried to end on a hopeful note - indeed tried to tell young people that they are bigger than the demons lying to them and attacking them - many left me feeling quite hopeless. And clearly, our world is in a hopeless condition. The only hope I see comes through a relationship with God to cut through the garbage of this world and stand firm on legs that won't be crippled by addiction, attacked by anxiety, or paralyzed by apprehension. Those little voices saying "Take a pill, it will improve your mood ... have some casual sex, it will alleviate your isolation ... swig a drink, it will dull your senses" - they lie to our young people. The stories these authors tell of their personal experiences back this up.

Yes, the stigma of mental health issues needs to be broken. Yes, our young people are desperate for safety and security. Yes, there is always a benefit in sharing the truth of one's story. But, oh tread with caution. These are deep waters that threaten to engulf teens. How sad that hope is out there offering not only relief from the troubles of this life, but also eternal safety and security, and not a single author alluded to it. Instead, the reader is presented with 31 tales of attempts to relieve difficulties through drugs, alcohol, and behavioral modifications. Where sin and worldly pressures threaten to bind us and hold us hostage, please, Lord, set us free! We need another book; one that doesn't acknowledge that darkness lingers still, but one that triumphs over that darkness with the power of the light. That's the book I want for the troubled teen in my life.

What's This World (and YA Literature) Coming To?

I'm feeling outraged and have to vent. According to this August article in the New York Daily News, to make it in the YA publishing world you have to include sex in your novels. Not just sex, graphic sex. Not just graphic sex, but sex that pushes the boundaries.

Here are the opening paragraphs of the article:

"Want to publish a Young Adult book right now? Make sure it has a threesome.

"The shelves of books aimed at the 14-year-old to 17-year-old reader are groaning - make that moaning - under the collective weight of explicit scenes involving multiple partners or love triangles.

"'I frequently tell my clients to sex it up,' said Brianne Johnson, an agent who represents authors of Young Adult fiction. 'It helps sales.'"

The article goes on to cite statistics of young adults losing their virginity. Yet, instead of viewing the increase in sexual activity of our young people as a warning sign of moral decline, the author of this article, Allen Sarkin, chooses to use it as a justification for stirring more morally questionable images into the minds of young readers. The author states, "that's why experts aren't worried about the polyamorous literary trend." No doubt it depends on which "experts" you rely.

Indeed, this author argues that teens are mature enough to explore sex, therefore they should be able to read about sexual activities in order to find their own way in an increasingly sexualized world. He urges such books help kids "as they search for their own sexual identities." In his eyes, if they are experiencing more of it, they should therefore be reading more of it.

To further his point, he cites an author of a sexually explicit young adult novel, Sarah McCarry, author of the 2014 novel Dirty Wings. She claims, "As a writer, the moral upbringing of the young people of America is not my job."

Not my job? Really? I cannot believe an author would actually argue that they bear no responsibility for what they present to the world in their stories. When reading the Donald Miller workbook, Storyline, I read an interesting quote that causes one to think. He writes:

"Every time you hear a story, the moral compass in your mind is adjusted. Good stories help us understand love matters, integrity is important and the world doesn't revolve around us. Other stories may teach us pleasure is king or power is worth killing for. A person's moral compass can be confused as easily as it can be set straight."

Furthermore, he says, "Make no mistake, screenwriters [authors] are teachers when they tell us a story because they are telling us what they believe is worth fighting for."

That is why this article really boils my blood. As Young Adult authors, we should be trying to present messages that enrich our young people, not tear them down or encourage them to destroy their lives. As author, Jim Burns, recently reminded me from the pulpit, "there is no such thing as casual sex." There is nothing casual about sexual relations. It is an act which binds one fully to another. I firmly believe that the best use of sexual activity is within a committed marriage relationship. I will encourage any young people I encounter to save their sexuality for that most meaningful relationship they aspire to. I don't believe children need more encouragement to try out sexual activities. Quite the contrary. They need bold literature reminding them of values which will strengthen and enrich their lives. Every author who puts pen to paper bears a responsibility for the words they present to the world. Indeed, I agree with Donald Miller, that every person tells a story with their life and, as such, bears responsibility for the story they are presenting to others.

Will your story bear good fruit or bad? Will your story make lives better or more morally corrupt? Of course, this article could encourage me to despair and throw in the towel, thinking "if that is what sells Young Adult fiction these days, then I have no chance in the world of being published." I am determined not to allow it to discourage me. I am determined to continue writing wholesome, morally upstanding literature. It is truly a shame that more Christian publishing companies aren't recognizing the moral decline of secular publishing standards and therefore making more of a push to increase their sales of quality literature.

If this is where the world of Young Adult literature is headed, can we really shake our heads in wonder when our young people become parents at far too young an age to bear the immense responsibilities of parenthood? Can we look aside as they increasingly explore sexuality in a moral vacuum? Apparently that is exactly what is happening.

At my most recent book club meeting, we began discussing the outrageous behaviors of parents at sporting activities. The conversation then veered to one mother expressing outrage at the information her daughters share with her about what really goes on in schools today. She proceeded to tell us that a friend of hers agreed to be a chaperone at the prom. At the beginning of the evening, the chaperones were pulled aside by the principal and told something like this: "Sex is going to happen tonight. Your job is not to keep it from happening. Your job is primarily to make sure that the girl is okay with it happening." My jaw dropped as this mother went on to say that young people are engaging in such activities right there on the dance floor and chaperones are instructed not to intervene.

So, I say again, what is this world coming to? At the moment, one of my YA manuscripts has been requested by an agent for consideration of representation. It is my only secular manuscript, yet it clearly bears evidence of what I believe is worth fighting for. There is a scene in a church, where the main character contemplates the sin condition of man. I very well may receive word any day now that the agent feels it is something too squeaky clean to be marketable. The bottom line remains the bottom line - what sells. When society gives in to the craving for morally irresponsible literature, moral decline cannot help but follow.

I fully believe that each of us will one day be called upon to answer for what we stood for in life. Our actions, our beliefs, our words will be reviewed. I don't want my life or my words to be found wanting. I want them to stand up to the light and to have accomplished good. In the fight against evil, I want to be a champion of what is good and right and wholesome, edifying and true. I want my words to move readers toward redemption. I may stand alone in that conviction, but stand I will.

Needing a Good Laugh?

I've been in sore need of a good laugh lately and I'm happy to say I've found it. Someone on Facebook linked to an article about raising teenage boys. The article was written by a woman who is the mother to four boys (how well I can relate). I couldn't help but peruse more of her posts once I discovered her blog. I about fell off my chair reading her recent post for Mother's Day. I know it is almost Father's Day, but you mothers out there will get a gigantic chuckle out of Melissa's post aimed at fathers everywhere.

Then, because I love her sense of humor so much, I liked her on Facebook, which means I get to see what she posts and let me tell you, she is a laugh a minute. So she linked to a site where someone posts things found on Pinterest which are absolutely ludicrous. The site is called Pinterest You Are Drunk and I could. not. look. away. I must have viewed almost a hundred pages. The titles and tags are beyond perfect. I was laughing so hard at a few of them (deer butt doorbell with the tags "doorbells I won't be ringing," and "deer God, no"; knit skeleton, complete with entrails and innards; a useless crocheted umbrella; a wonder woman costume to make your head turn; a wedding dress made out of diapers; and an elderly couple made out of yarn with the tag "no nudes is good nudes") that my husband came over to see what was possessing me to snort so violently. You look at these things and you think ... really, just really?

So, if you're in need of a good laugh, fill your cup today. Yes, you're welcome. It did wonders for my disposition, too.

A Prayer of Protection Over a Teen's New Car

Lord,

I have such mixed feelings about this exciting new development.  On the one hand, I am thrilled that my son found a car he is so enthusiastic about.  He loves it!  Look at it.  How could he not? It is such an awesome-looking car.  On the other hand, it is the kind of car that will attract attention and get him pulled over more frequently.

I don't know if this was the right step to take, buying him such a nice car.  After two accidents, my thought was to buy him a beater of a car, something inexpensive and dull.  His dad reasoned that we wanted to be sure he was in a safe car, one that was built well.  Indeed, the Mustang is a well-built car.  We're hoping this car will see him through the college years, but realistically, I can't stop thinking about those accidents and playing with the "what ifs" in my mind.

Since it is such a nice car, he's bound to take better care of it, I suppose.  However, I can't help feeling like he should have been made to suffer a bit more for his mistakes.  Then again, they were just mistakes.  I've made the same mistakes myself.  If we went according to accident record, I'd be driving a beater, too.  Ha!

The money is coming from three sources: the check the insurance company gave us upon the other car's demise, a portion from us, and a portion from Bryce's savings.  However, does it really hit him very hard to take it from his savings?  Will he feel the pinch and appreciate fully the value of the car he's been entrusted with?  Are we depriving him a valuable lesson by not requiring him to work in some sort of job, saving up for a replacement car.

Logistically, I wouldn't want to still be driving him everywhere.  It is so much easier when he can transport himself to where he needs to be.  And, he will, indeed, need a car for college next year.

Thus, the argument rages in my brain, Lord.  But the primary thought is for his safety.  Please place Your protective hand on my son and this car.  Please watch over all the elements of traffic around him.  Keep those crazed drivers out of his path.  Help him to make swift and careful decisions.  Teach him responsibility despite our possible failings in the parenting department.  I place him and the car in Your hands and will try to let go of the anxiety I feel.

Thank You for this bountiful blessing and for the delight my child is experiencing.

The Sad Demise of the Grand Am

For a dozen years now, we've owned a beautiful, black Pontiac Grand Am.  That car has stood us in good stead and we've loved it.

Enter a teenage boy.

When Bryce acquired his license last November, my husband passed the Grand Am on to him and he began driving a vehicle his mother had lent us (a truck that I loathe, but that my husband just purchased from her officially when she was here a few weeks back - groan, how I hate that monstrous behemoth of a vehicle, which takes up so much of the garage space and forces me to suck in my gut every time I want to climb into the driver's seat of my van).  If you ask me, this was quite generous.  I was never handed a car when I reached the driving age.  The boy's a lucky dude!

Within a few months of driving it, he had his first minor fender bender in the school parking lot.  He came out to find his windows fogged up with condensation.  He thought it was frost and tried to scrape the outside, but this accomplished nothing, so ... he just got in and tried to drive with limited vision.  He said he waited for a long time at the intersection and finally pulled out ... right in front of an oncoming car.  Her car was barely scratched, but he managed to damage the front corner of the bumper and lose a headlight.  No insurance information was exchanged and we decided to merely cover the repairs ourselves.

Now, he has had another accident.  Granted, we are extremely grateful that in both instances there was no bodily harm.  If he had been pulling out onto the main road home from school (instead of still in the parking lot) he would have encountered cars coming at 55 m.p.h.  In this second accident, he was driving two fellow football players home from school.  The accident occurred right in town, so the speeds were only around 30 m.p.h., but still, if the other driver had collided a few seconds earlier then the boy in the back seat could have been hit.  God was watching out for our boy and his friends.  Bryce thought he had enough time to make a turn and turned in front of a woman who (as he indignantly puts it) "didn't bother to slow down at all."  She clipped the back end of the vehicle and pulled off the rear fender.

Sadly, our insurance company has written the car off as a total loss (since repairs would probably be more than the value of the car).  So, now the boy and his dad are scanning used auto businesses in our area for a replacement car. As I said, he's a lucky dude!  We're hoping whatever we purchase will last him through his college years.  At this rate, though, it is looking a bit grim.  This is a sad good-bye to a well-loved car.

Favorite Things Thursday: Memorial Music Box

Way back in 1994, I was hungering for a baby. We had been married for four years and I was approaching the age of 30. My husband was in graduate school and I had just finished a very stressful first year of teaching high school. As I look back on all these details, I understand my husband's sentiments a bit more; however, at the time, my desire was too intense to share his apprehensions. After many long discussions, he finally agreed to try.

From the moment I saw the positive line on the pregnancy test, I was a bundle of nerves. I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt that I had pushed my husband into something he wasn't ready for. (Of course, this wasn't really new territory for me, because our wedding was actually postponed once due to his fear of commitment apprehensions.) As badly as I wanted a blue-eyed baby boy, I didn't want to create friction in our marriage.

When the pregnancy ended in miscarriage, I was devastated. I had begun bleeding one day, while at school. I finished teaching and called my doctor. After a quick exam, I had an ultrasound and was able to see the tiny heartbeat of my first baby. The doctor informed me that he was heading out of town the next day for a ski trip, but that I should give him a call if the bleeding increased at all.

Sadly, I ended up in the ER later that November night and my doctor performed a D and C. The pregnancy, from beginning to end, had been quite traumatic and I second guessed so many things (not bundling up enough and catching bronchitis, carrying a heavy box, the doctor's desire to "merely take care of things" before heading out for a ski trip, etc.). My grief was overwhelming.

Several books I read, suggested that the intangible aspect of miscarriage heightens the difficulty of grieving. Others find it difficult to recognize your loss as significant because they have never really seen your child. Many individuals who experience miscarriage find it easier to grieve when they have something to look at as a reminder of the child's existence (even if that existence remained unseen, in the womb). So, to ease the pain of my empty arms and heart, I purchased this memorial music box:

It seemed perfect because it is a small boy building a snowman and it plays "Silent Night," with that perfect line of "sleep in heavenly peace." I also gave my miscarried baby a name, calling him Colin James. I cross-stitched a memorial piece for him as well, but I lost it (if I had been blogging back then, I would have surely snapped a photo the moment I finished the piece).

Less than two years later, in May of 1996, I used this cherished memory box as my focal point when I went into labor with my ES. Of course, ES knows all about Colin and his music box. I purchased a special music box for ES, as well. ES's music box was knocked over and broken a time or two, but we still have it (a Noah's ark theme). Then, when ES entered his train-fixation-phase, I found an adorable train music box for him.

I suppose, I really should be on the lookout for a music box for MS. I have one for Colin. One for ES. The train one could actually be for YS now, since he loves trains. Any suggestions on what I should look for? a Spiderman music box? a puppy music box? an artist music box?

Thankfully, Colin's music box has turned out to be as resilient as ES's music box. Earlier this week, MS and YS had been sent to their room. All of the music boxes are in there (am I nuts, or what?) up on tall cabinets. Colin's music box was on top of a chifferobe next to MS's twin bed. Somehow, they managed to knock the music box off the top and break it. I glued it back together this afternoon and snapped my photo.

I have moved Colin's music box to the living room (still not safe from my destructive boys, but, like the tea pot, I want to be able to look at it). At least now, I will know that I have a picture of it. It remains one of my favorite things and it did indeed help me through the grieving process.

My sister, Dawn, also had an intuitive understanding of what might be helpful for me during that sad time. Within days of the miscarriage, she sent me a large package. It contained a highly-huggable stuffed monkey (I have collected monkeys ever since I was seven), a book and three videos (to divert my mind).

We ended up both being pregnant with our first-borns at the same time. I may be on the cusp of having a teenage son, but she is now on the cusp of having a teenage DAUGHTER! Perhaps, I should send her a care package now. What would YOU put in a care package for a woman whose daughter is about to enter the teenage hormone zone?