Friday, September 12, 2025

It's been a rough week

It's been a rough week.
Behavior problems I don't know how to solve.
Balancing the different emotional needs of my children.
Finding out James' one friend from Co-op won't be coming back this year and walking him through that.
The world is on fire.
Then another shooting.
And another one.
The hateful arguments and accusations that follow.
The blindness.
The division.
No one is listening. No one is asking questions. Everyone has the answers.
And all this while I'm trying to raise and educate three kids at home in a world that looks more unfamiliar and scary to me every day.

I've never had a panic attack before. But I think I was very close to one yesterday as I drove my kids to co-op. I was legitimately struggling to breathe and keep it all together and I was on the verge of tears all morning. Listening to songs from Planning Center, trying desperately to hear God. To tap into something bigger than myself. Give myself some perspective. Remind myself that He is still in control.

It was a struggle. Holding on to my faith is a struggle right now. So many people I know have left the faith. Not just the church, but Christianity. They no longer call themselves Christian. Part of me understands why and it still breaks my heart.

I'm standing in the middle of two extremes, and I hate this place. On the one side are the people who have left. Many of their reasons make sense. I see the hurt. I feel the betrayal. I understand why many have left the church...But I don't understand the hostility towards the faith as a whole and how they can't also see that there are good people still living out their faith the best they know how.

On the other side are the people who continue living their Christian existence business as usual...but deny a lot of hurt and pain that has been caused by people who wear His name. And I'm not just talking about church-hurt. I'm talking about rhetoric and policies and lack of care for people who are hurting and a lack of willingness to engage with the problems of the world. They display hypocritical behaviors that have driven others away. And I don't think they're even aware of the part they've played.

The problem is that many of these same people, who think and vote differently than me, who support people who I believe to be doing real actual harm to this country...they are also my lifeline in so many other ways. I have seen them make sacrifices for others. I have watched as they gave very intentional language to students about how to be a good friend and witness to the world. I have been on the receiving end of their love and grace and support so many times. They have shaped my faith. They have raised me. They have prayed for me. These are good people.

And...their votes have supported people doing harm.

And reading the posts on Facebook this week, and the ensuing comments, was a mistake because I don't recognize anyone right now. I'm talking about the people who respond to posts and comments with sarcasm. I'm talking about people, whatever their persuasion, with whom I have broken bread, shared life with, gone on mission trips with, taught with who immediately assume the worst about someone because of the stance they take. Who demand understanding and grace and nuance but don't grant it. It breaks my heart and it makes me feel alone.

Yesterday morning, as I was trying to avoid a panic attack and get ready for my Social Studies class (another thing....teaching social studies in this climate....when I have almost completely lost faith in this country's ability to live out the ideals it was founded on...feels a little bit like teaching fairytales. So I stick to geography and historical fiction where people stand up for what's right and are rewarded by seeing the change they strive for.... that's a WHOLE other post by itself.) I made my copies...and then I just sat down on the floor and stared into space.

I wasn't there long before someone met me and asked me how I was doing. I told her I was functioning, because I just didn't have the energy for a mask that morning. She said she was sorry and she hoped my day got better...and then she sat down on the floor with me and told me that she has a son that is very much like mine...high impulsivity, big feelings, very smart...and also very exhausting. And she knows it's hard, and it's easy to feel like everyone else has their act together and are looking down on me for not...but with time and maturity it will get better and nobody thinks I'm not doing my job.

So much for holding the tears back. But you know what? They needed to be released. And I needed to let this one thing go. For once, this wasn't even the thing in the forefront of my mind, though it is always, ALWAYS on the periphery somewhere and it is frequently overwhelming, and I think she knew that. But it gave me the calm I was so desperate for on the drive over. 

It didn't change much. I didn't suddenly feel happy. The world is still on fire. Parenting is still hard. I still don't know what to do or how to live with this tension every day. But something shifted. I felt seen. I was seen. God used someone who understands a big part of my experience as a parent to remind me I was not alone, by taking the time to sit with me and let me cry over it. I don't know if she thought this was the reason I was on the floor or if she just knew it was a burden she could speak to. It didn't matter. It gave me what I needed to go teach my Kindergarten class about Social Studies.... The study of people. Where they live. How they live. And share a book about circles and drawing bigger circles as we learn more about the world around us and welcome other people in. And then teach my 1st and 2nd grade class about cooperation and being on the same team and encouraging each other as we played games together.

I am aware that I am very different from a lot of the people I go to church with and co-op with. We vote differently, we parent differently, we educate differently, we enjoy different movies and different books. 

Whatever the difference is. And I don't pretend to know them all, they exist. That might not ever change. And right now it's easy to feel isolated by differences, no matter what they are. And...while it might be discouraging and lonely sometimes, it's not always bad either. 

Because these moments on the floor of the workroom can still be possible and it doesn't require that we agree with each other on everything. I have no idea where this person is on every issue that I care about. But she still took the time to see herself in me and sit with me. It may not have seemed like much, but it was enough to enable me get off the floor and do something small that hopefully will plant seeds of kindness for the next generation.

It sounds cheesy. It sounds simple. It sounds like not enough.

But you never know the powerful impact it can have.

Monday, June 23, 2025

I went to a protest

Last week I went to a No Kings protest.

If you know me at all, you might be surprised. I am not one to proclaim my thoughts loudly, and I do NOT like crowds. (Spoiler alert: I was SUPER uncomfortable the entire time)

If you know me well, you know how much I despise scenes of conflict (I am the ninest Enneagram 9 that has ever nined.)

So why did I go, and what was my experience?


I went because I am a Christian who has stayed silent as injustices that impact people around me have occured. I went because there is a narrative that people of faith don't actually care about the oppressed. I went because I know that's not true, but it's not always easy to see. I went because I wanted to show my support for the people who have been hurt the most by this administration. I went because I wanted to be the exception. I wanted to be a person of faith who showed up for other people. I went wearing my "Love Wins" shirt from one of my many mission trips to Ukraine, where that was the overarching message we left the kids with. The scripture on my back, written in Ukrainian, was “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33. 

I am a straight, white, Christian, American-born woman who was homeschooled, has only ever worked for private schools, and homeschools her own children. I went for the people in Ukraine. I went for the immigrants. I went for teachers and students of public schools. I went for the people who are afraid to exist with their differences. People whose beliefs, values, and life experiences align with mine. People whose beliefs, values, and life experiences are very different from mine. People everywhere in between who challenge me and make me re-evaluate. I went because words have failed me, but I still want to show up for people. I went because I believe Love Wins.

I met many people who felt the same way. I met many people holding signs that said, "Love your neighbor", "Act justly, love mercy, walk humbly with your God.", "Make America Kind-hearted again". People holding flags for America. People holding flags for Ukraine and Mexico. People who would not be out there just because of a minor disagreement with policy. People who were there for their neighbors, who care about justice and mercy, who care about their relationship with God.

I marched with people of all faiths and no faith and anti-faith. I timidly (again, very introverted, very outside my comfort-zone) joined the chant, "No hate, no fear, immigrants are welcome here" and "This is what democracy looks like". I kept SILENT and buttoned my lips hard during "F*** Trump" and "F*** Abbott" because I was NOT there to wish evil on them however much I disagree with their actions. I was there because the 1st amendment gives me the right to address the government peacefully and petition them for a redress of grievances. I was there to use that freedom for others. I was there for the reform I hope to see. I was there because I believe love will win and love means showing up for those with little to no voice. It does not mean hatred for the hating. (1 Corinthians 13:6-7)

Police were there, and I did not feel threatened; I felt protected. No violence occurred. No damage to property. Voices were raised, and even though I did not agree with every sentiment, the overarching theme was still, "Love your Neighbor".

It was a surreal experience, and I'm still processing it. I came away with a lot of feelings, both positive and negative. The older I get the more I'm learning to make space for nuance. Holding certainty and uncertainty, joy and sadness, faith and doubt.

I don't know if my presence made a difference. I don't know if it will be seen for the reasons I want it to be seen. It's not up to me, and that's part of what I'm holding. I have so much love for people who think so vastly different from me on so many things, and one thing I truly do hate is how we can't be honest with each other. I try not to be dishonest about who I am and what I believe, but the truth is I keep a lot to myself. The ironic thing is that even though this scene (crowded, loud, full of angry voices) was most definitely NOT the scene I would choose for myself, showing up was, in some ways, the most visibly honest I have been about my beliefs in a while.

I believe in a God who loves EVERYONE. I believe that Christians should stand up for those whose voices are being silenced. I believe justice is more restorative than it is punitive. I believe in mercy. I believe love is the answer. I believe that ultimately God has overcome this world and the peace that we want can be found in Him.

(Romans 8:38-39; Micah 6:8, Leviticus 19:33-34, Matthew 22:37-40)

If you have read this far, thank you for hearing me.

"I tell you these things so that in me you will have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart!
I have overcome the world." John 16:33

Love Wins, Camp Smerichka

           Can you tell how uncomfortable I am?


                                                                                THIS!