I love (and also hate) the mind of an eight year old. Just yesterday morning L2 struck up a random conversation, like he normally does. Recent topics have surrounded around the fact that I got pulled over for speeding with both boys in the car. Leading to questions like, “Mom, can you get arrested for speeding?” “Mom, will the judge put you in jail?” “Mom, you know the speed limit is only 65?”
Yes I do. Yes I do. And here is the thing, your mother has always driven fast, and frankly I like to think if you put your shoes on the first time I asked, I would slow down, but it’s not likely to happen on either of our parts, so I need to own mine, and that my friend, is your mother speeds.
Yesterday morning’s conversation was about fear. “Mom, you know some people aren’t afraid of anything, right? I mean you ask them and they just say nothing.”
Hmm. I need to meet these some people.
So I said, “It’s a nice thought to think there are people out there that aren’t afraid, but Bug, we all have our own fears. Some good, some bad. It’s human.”
That’s when he got up from the breakfast table. He probably walked to the bathroom thinking “you’re wrong, Mom,” or maybe he was thinking about how he didn’t really feel like brushing his teeth. I honestly don’t know.
It got me thinking about my own fears. A few years ago, I wanted to share with people something I loved – cooking, and being in my kitchen. A funny thing happened – my fears have overcome my ability to write about anything, anymore. It was an outlet I loved. A way to connect to others, but it was also an outlet that put me in an uncomfortable place. And I don’t mean, maybe you try a recipe and the directions don’t work, or you don’t like the taste because that’s the way of cooking. I mean, my voice started to change. I didn’t just want my message to be about recipes. I want it to be what it’s like parenting two boys well, and how I manage to do that when my husband works way too much, and our family restaurant demands every once of free time we have. I want it to be about growing as a woman, and a wife, and a mom. Let’s get real, anyone on this road knows it’s ever changing. I like to think I will always be willing to grow, to change, to adapt. I want it to be about how politics and Christ intersect in my life. This may be my greatest struggle. I have a relationship with Christ. I asked Him to come live in my heart when I was in first grade. The relationship has had many ups and downs, all because of my own humanness. I studied political science in college. The topic is interesting to me and ever changing. In reality, it exposes me. Something I don’t necessarily want to have to explain or justify, but I know at some point if I’m to get over this hurdle, I will have too.
I haven’t quit cooking, or recipe testing – so many more ice cream flavors to come. I started baking bread. I doubt I’ll ever blog about that because there are better sources, and experts. I have drafted unique recipes to try.
I haven’t stopped believing in Jesus. I just did us both an injustice thinking I could be successful in this platform, or this life and not recognize Him, and our relationship.
Politics is so painful for me. The game of tit for tat have left the majority of Americans unserved. The president of the United States disgusts me. I think the Democrats will lose 2020 because they are too busy running a circus then running a country. I think the wall is a waste of money, and we need better immigration laws. I think mommas who are raped in the night and flee their corrupt nations with their babies for a better life need a lot more support, and a lot less criticism. I think semi-automatic weapons and automatic weapons are meant for war, and no where else. Not in the second amendment, not in our schools, not in our movie theaters, not in concert venues. I think LGBTQ is the dumbest way to describe an entire population of people that Jesus also hung on the cross for. I think climate change is real, and I’ve suffered the direct effects of it twice. I think if we don’t care for our environment, more kids like my L2 will he hospitalized because of the long term effects of asthma.
The list is endless. The exposure great. The heartache more so. Some will read this and think, “right on.” Some will read this and think “I hate all of this, and I may need a break from you.” Some will read this and think, “huh, I didn’t know that about you,” or “I disagree with you, and I love you, and I want to support you.” My natural inclination would be to the first and last responses. The first of course, because who wants to be told their opinion is wrong, and so much more so the last because I think it’s our differences that make all the difference.
So there you have it. It’s been quiet here because there is so much turmoil inside, and it’s time for that to come to an end. My eight year old thinks I’m fearless, and while I’m not, I certainly can’t keep living like my fears control me.