What going to the pool looks like now...

I used to be the mom that would meet other moms at a splash pad.

I used to be the mom that would pack one bag for snacks and juice boxes, one with sunscreen, towels, extra clothes, extra bathing suits (for the kid who always has an accident), a bag with toys, water bottles, wet wipes, water guns, sunglasses, sand toys, garbage bags, and of course sweaters in case it got cold. Don't forget my purse and my other small bag that housed the small first aid kit I needed, and emergency kit of Chapstick, essential oils, lotion, tweezers and other small random things that I never thought I could leave home without. You know library books and sewing supplies that somehow just in case I am gifted with 23 seconds of no one needing me, I can get some "Me time". (Cause that totally happens when you are out at a splash pad with three kids.) Then I would stuff the stroller, piling it high so our need to have everything covered was taken care of. I didn't just plan. I over planned. (I think I just stressed myself out reading this.)

But now?

Now we have traded our half day trip to a special splash pad for our public wading pool at the end of our block. 

We traded our 20 minute car ride for a 3 minute walk.

We traded our one hour of prep time to actually just heading out in our clothes, suits long forgotten and optional at best. (I love how all the kids in the hood just come and swim in whatever they are wearing, no one has towels and empty water bottles are the toy of choice.)

We learned to swim with our mouths closed tight because who know's whats in that inner city pool water.

(Actually I have seen some things in that water I wish I could un-see.)

We don't bring towels with us, choosing instead to drip dry on the cement or on the walk home. Instead of packing sunscreen and googles, we bring trash bags to pick up all the garbage that litters our streets. 

We traded conversations about cartoon characters for big beautiful questions like, "What causes someone to start doing drugs? Do they use these needles or are there other ways to take drugs?" or "Why do people throw their trash on the ground? Don't they want to keep our neighborhood clean?" or "Why are there so many police sirens and shootings here?" 

Right? Big. Hard. Questions about culture, about crime, about hurt and what we do with it and why it's here all the time. Questions that don't have easy answers. Questions that I can either answer with prejudice or judgement, or we can talk it through giving small insights and things to ponder. Mostly I answer with more questions urging my kids to think for themselves. Then at night we pray for what we do not know and ask God in all of his mercy and goodness to reveal himself to those who are hurting and grant us trust to live and love.

We traded planned play dates to walking down the street and kids running out of their houses to join us at the pool. As soon as we say park, it somehow sends a virtual message to other mothers I have never met that send their kids out doors and we all go to the park with the pool together. 

I traded a suburban mindset for the inner city lifestyle.

I traded a host of expectations for the simple act of just living. Not planning, just experiencing.

I love watching the kids at the pool now. I love not being burden down with so much stuff.

I traded my preconceived ideas of necessity for a healthy dose of reality.

I traded mom's regulating everything their kids did with being helicopter parents to being the only parent at the pool and having my kids learn every bad word in the American language.

I traded the simple struggle of stuff with deeper struggles of fairness, culture, neglect, and a different set of rules. Rules that seem to apply to the hood and not in other areas of the city. Rules that shift and change and demand you pay attention so you know how to play the game. Struggles that leave kids that aren't yours in your care. Struggles that have kids stealing from you and playing with your kids and eating your food. Struggles to find a way to respect each other when language stands as a barrier between you. 

I traded a perceived idea of safety with always feeling exposed and vulnerable. 

I traded my false idea that I was in control with the harsh consciousness that my kids are exposed to all sorts of things I don't want for them on a daily basis. Yet, that demands my attention, and our conversations and processing about life means and what respect means and how prayer and faith fit into it all.

I traded what I once knew which was easy with what we understand now which is by far much more complex and tangled and messy. It's harder, but I like it a whole lot. 

So now we swim. I bring my key and my phone and we walk out the door ready to embrace whatever adventure meets us on the way. It's our own inner city neighborhood swim club.

The thing you must realize is that I understand full well the privilege we have as college educated whites. We weren't living in great means and decided to move here. It's all we could afford, and being a one income family keeps us living here. However, we do have privileges and opportunities that many in my community don't have. I understand that we often choose to live simply, but for others, limited means is not a choice. My hood is a really mixed bag of folks. Race, culture, expectations, histories and stories. We are so incredibly diverse and that is the piece I love. Maybe some don't have a towel to bring. Others like our neighbors don't have a mother to bring them to the pool because they were left on the door step over a year ago. But others do have means and still they come to the pool with nothing but the clothes on their back just like us. So I don't sit here and make assumptions and judgements on others and what their story is. I am simply put, just thankful for the constant daily reminder that there is another way than the way I understood things before.

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Bike earned life lessons

The kids and I went for a bike ride today and all of a sudden it was as if my real life collided with my big picture life in the span of a moment. And it happened over and over for the next 30 min.

My real life would be that this was the first time the kids and I biked this year and the rules are different now. Last year Little was still in a buggy attached to my bike and Middle was on the one wheel attachment with Paul. Big would ride in the pocket between us. Everyone was contained and we could keep our eyes on each of the kids. Paul led the way, I brought up the rear and we were all good. Contained. Dare I say, we were in control?

Then somehow this year, everyone got bigger. Older.  More grown up. Independent. And that means that life changes, rules are different. Little rides the one wheel attachment and both boys are free. It also means that we have the freedom to ride without Paul when he is at work. Our family dynamics have changed and we find that we are still a team but with different roles to play and different dynamics when we engage with one another. 

Life doesn't stand still. Families aren't imortalized. We grow, we learn, we gain wisdom and fall in foolishness. We are human living in a world that requries we keep moving forward.

In my real life, I hadn't ever ridden with the one wheel attachment. Fumbling our way through, I almost lost Little because I forgot that she could get on and off the bike. I realized I had to actually check to see if she was ready. Before, I would just put her in, pile in her books and snack and we were good. I could stop and start whenever I wanted. She was contained and under control. Now the girl has freedom. And I'm not gonna lie, its a little unnerving. So after I almost left without her, then almost dropped her because I wasn't used to her unbalanced weight, we slowly took off. 

That's when it hit me. I can't see my other two kids. I take the lead and they bike behind me. Not only are they biking behind me, because I am the one who sets the path, I actually have to trust my oldest to bring up the rear. Trust him. Trust that he knows the rules. Trust that he will be responsible. Trust that he will communicate when something is wrong and that he can recognize when that might be. That's when my heart start pounding and growing big with panic. 

Once that thought hit me, I realized Little and I were tipping. I am used to carrying dead weight on two wheels while she sits tucked in a sturdy buggy. With the one wheel attachment, she can pedal and lean and the whole bike shifts. And she's only almost five so when she leans and panics, that means she over corrects herself to not fall and screams and panics and yells at me that everything is horrible and she can't do and we need. to. stop. now.

So I say in my most calming, I am not stressed out voice, "Little we are OK. You have to trust me that I will keep us safe. We have to do this together. If you feel like we are going to fall, trust that I can keep us going. We are team now and we can do this together. "

Middle chimed in that Dad gave him the same speech when they biked that way too. 

As we biked along, I realized how quickly my children are growing up. How without even realizing it, they are learning things, growing in wisdom, and becoming real people. (Not that they weren't real before, but they becoming their own I guess in a way that I don't get to dictate or control.) 

Next year Little will be going to full day Kindergarten. I will have my days free to workI and volunteer and take care of my family on my own schedule. My children will be living their lives at school apart from me, learning and growing and I need to trust them. I also need to trust that we are doing our job and they are learning from us at home as well. 

Above all other growing pains I realized today, is that the rules are changing. They are getting bigger and even though they need to learn themselves in new ways, I need to relearn my role with them as well. So many pieces of their lives are out of my control and even though that truth has always been real, it is evident in more ways than our previous years of their young childhood. My role as their mother is not to see everything they do and control it, (though seriously I would beg for that to be the way because I have fiercely good ideas and have made so many mistakes, if they just did what I said, life would be so much easier for them.)

I ride along with them. I ride to encourage and guide back if they need it. I am there to tell them are OK. I am there to say, "You are not alone. If you need me, we got this." I am their support system. The place they fall back on because they overcorrected and made a mistake. 

As kids get older, their personalities and opinions change. They shape their own ideas. They gain independence even though we live as a unit, they need to live on their own two feet. The rules change and its important as parents that we let them learn what that means. But it also means that our role changes as well. I need to learn to trust them. I need to learn that my job isn't to control everything but to guide, support, love and help when they ask.

I was thankful today for the physical reminder of what is emotionally happening in our household. Our bike ride reminded me that even though I have been clutching to hold on, I need to let go a little bit and just hold my children and our relationship gently so they know they can trust me not to overcorrect them in my parenting. 

Our roles change as we grow. And as we grow, we change. I hope I can be patient with myself and my children as we figure out this space in our life. And if you find yourself in the midst of shifting roles and growing pains, I am with you. You are not alone.

There is blood in our streets

Two days ago a man was shot and killed for his wallet two blocks from our home.  

He was shot once standing, and then once he fell to the ground, was shot two more times in the head.

The blood remains in the snow and the city seems confused in how to remove it.  Usually the Fire department comes and washes it away, but that would cause an ice slick.  A bobcat came out and shoveled it into a pile but now doesn't know where to dispose of it.

And so a heap of bloody snow remains in the street as a vivid reminder of the fear we live in on the Northside.

Not one news media covered the murder.

Not. One.

That seems to be the piece of information that those of us who live here are holding onto.

I am apart of a social media group called North Vent.  It is a way for all of us who live in NoMi (North Minneapolis) can communicate and share information.  You can hop on North Vent as soon as you hear gun shots, sirens, or see smoke, and everyone starts sharing what they know.  It's almost a modern day community watch program.

Social media has dramatically changed how much information I now have regarding the in's and out's of crime in NoMi.

I am thankful for information because having information gives you understanding of where it is safe and not safe to go.  For instance, I have come to discover that the leader of one the strongest Mpls gangs just moved two blocks away from us.  I learned about the illegal after hours club that got shut down just over a month ago three blocks from our house.  We know when they are doing drug sweeps on the street and whose responsible for the latest shooting.  People here keep watch and share information so we all can stay informed and safe.

What has struck me more than any of this however is getting an inside look into how people feel about living here.

For all the good and hard stuff that happens here, I am not quite sure what to do with the feelings of helplessness that the general community has.

Comments such as, "If anyone approaches you, give them whatever they want and run the other way.  It's your only hope of not getting shot at, and even then it's possible."

or, "People don't understand that when you live here, you are afraid to get out of your car and just walk up to your house.  You wonder if today is the day that your house was broken into.  You fear that at any time, you could get jumped or killed just for being on a bike." (There was a young man shot and killed this summer riding his bike to a neighbor's house to deliver a meal.  It unsettled the community greatly to say the least.)

I know those thoughts.  I have those thoughts.

But now I know that I am not alone.  I am in a community of people who all live afraid and have surrendered to living in fear.

There is an undercurrent of anger towards the government and police officials because the crime continues to get worse, and so often, the outside communities don't hear about it.  

We feel left and forgotten.  When men are shot and killed and in our streets and no one knows about, it sends a pretty loud and clear message.

You are alone in fighting this.

When a community of people who have been hurt feel that they aren't seen or cared for, they get angry.  Anger never makes things easier.

Anger makes things violent and creates communities of fear.

And then here we sit.

Crime running high.  People who are afraid then turn frustrated and angry.  Justice becomes the platform.  Taking things into our own hands become their job, because people have to pay for what they've done.

Or...

You tuck inside and hide.  You protect yourself and those close to you.  You keep your head down, you stay smart and plan when you leave your house.

Fight or Flight.

Those are our options.

16 armed robberies last week alone.  One ending in murder, and no one knew because the news never covered the story.

17 now.  We watched a man got robbed at gun point in front our home this morning.

We live in a culture of fear.

The comments of desperation are getting louder.

It makes me nervous.  Not knowing what is coming.

And so we pray.

We pray for guidance, for answers, for peace, for safety.

We aren't sure what else to do.

Is changing a whole community and culture based on fear possible?

I don't know.

I really just don't know.

How does one move past the fear?

This morning I woke up to the sound of my son coming in to my room, hugging me and saying, "I am so glad you are alive mama.  I am so glad you are alive!"

I looked at him and said, "Oh honey, of course I am alive.  Is everything OK?"

That's when Big told me that last night they woke up to gun shots ringing in the front yard.  They ran out to get Paul, thinking we were being attacked.  Paul had already flipped the light switches off and was ducking down to see a group of teenagers breaking off in pairs from our front yard after shooting a couple rounds off into black sky.  They clung to their dad hoping he could make it better.  After calling the police, he tucked the kids back into bed and sang over them.

This morning, their fear for me and for them was all they could talk about.  I was writing at the coffee shop like I do every Tuesday night.  I wasn't home, and so in their young minds, I was at risk out there with the bad guys.  They were out there and I was out there, not safely at home.

As each of my kids came into my room this morning, all hugging me tight, thankful for my safety, my heart physically hurt for how to help them navigate through this.  I wasn't sure how to do that.

I can't give them promises that I will always be there for them.  Because I won't.

I can't tell them that nothing bad will happen to me.  Because I don't know.

So what can I give them?

First off, this is not a story of living in the hood.  This story isn't shared to get you to feel bad for us.  It's not a  story to gain attention or have some weird twisted story to brag about.  This story speaks to what we do with the fear our children have.  All kids have a fear of something.  Fear of fitting in.  Fear of being embarrased.  Fear of talking to strangers.  Fear their parents will split up.  Fear there is something wrong with them.  So the question then is, what do you do with that fear?

Second, as parents, I think it is very tempting to use our status in our children's lives to turn into the ultimate power.  If you have a wound, I will make it better.  If someone hurt you, I will go take care of it.  If you have a need, I will fill it.  It is nice to be needed and have someone rely on you.  To be the hero.  The one who saves the day.

But in the end, what good does it do to have our children put all of their trust in us?  In a human being who will fall short, mess up and disappoint them?

Paul and I have as much as possible, whenever possible, try to point our children to the one who will not fail them.  To the one who will ultimately heal and help them.  It is our goal as parents to teach our kids to reach out to God in times of trouble, pain and joy.  This is not without trying our hardest to be there for our children, to help whenever it is right.  But we can't desire to be their ultimate power in life.

So each morning, we try, at breakfast to institute, "Feed your body, feed your soul."  This is a time where we read a few verses in the morning to make sure that the word of God is in our children's hearts.  Lately, we have been reading through the proverbs.  But this morning I knew it was different and we would need a different kind of comfort and healing.  So we read Romans 8:31+

"What then shall we say in response to this?   If God is for us, who can be against us?  No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.  For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

In reading this, it also brought to mind the verse that says, "perfect love drives out fear" which I think is 1 John.

God's love can drive out our fear and demons and insecurities.

I wanted my kids to walk away not living in fear.  Not overcome with worry about who might get shot and killed in our yard.  We are still trying to convince them that we won't die every time a thunderstorm hits in the middle of the night.  Two years later, Big and Little will still crawl into our bed trembling that we will die when the thunder hits waking them up in the darkness of night.

It is my belief that fear, left in our heart will create a foothold for Satan to tear us down and keep us from thriving in life.  When a small amount fear or doubt is left in your heart, the only thing it has the power to do is grow.  It gains strength every time we experience something that reminds us of that fear.  Then eventually, it will keep us fearful and unable to take chances, to trust, and to love.

So in this round about way, as parents, and just as people ourselves, the way to not live in fear is to cling to the one who has the power enough to love us out of the fearful place.  To admit that fear.  Surrender it.  Lay it down.  Give it over.  Try to learn to trust a little bit more every day.

This morning we prayed after reading scripture together.  We prayed that we could rest in God's love.  We prayed that Satan wouldn't have a hold on our hearts in the fear we have about how scary the guns were.  We prayed that God could create trust in our hearts.  We prayed that his words we read would strengthen our faith and allow us live in HOPE that God, no matter what, will work all things to his glory.

We don't know what that means exactly.  We don't really know what that looks like.  I do know though that I could tell a difference in their smiles this morning.  I am hoping that teaching them to give over their fear and worry and weakness, that they will start to cling on their own to a relationship with Christ.

He is much better savior than me.

And in the end, I have lived most of my life in fear.  I would like to find a way to help my children live in love and courage by showing them how to surrender over the fear.

Hope in Despair

I have to laugh that for all the grief I give my husband about a painting that hangs over our couch in our home, I am actually including it in a blog.  

A few years ago, my husbands best friend, Lloyd Garrelts had a desire to add "artist/painter" to his list of many talents.  He had decided long ago that if he were to ever become a painter, it would start with a large black canvas that had one small white dot on it.  To mock modern art, he would call it "Hope in Despair".  It communicates that no matter how small the evidence of hope may seem, it does change the landscape.  The despair is not untouched.

When our friend turned 40, Paul commissioned him to start his dream, and paint on the largest canvas we could afford.  For days he came to paint.  Lots of pepsi and wine got drank, and the dream became a reality.  I was in full support of my husband trying to help make dreams come true, till I was told that in order to be a true work of art, it is commissioned by someone and hung in their home.  So here it sits, in our home, a big black wall of canvas, reminding us that dreams do come true.

Hope in Despair

When I was driving down our street the other day, I saw this...

It is a large Chalkboard with the painted letters, "Before I die..."  I got really distracted by it and wanted to check it out, so I pulled over and walked right up to it so I could read what people were writing.  This is what I saw.

Amongst the desires for fame you also find hope to know God, hope to end the pain, hope to find love, hope to truly find oneself.  It was simply beautiful.

Here, in my hood where we are frequently on the news for destruction, anger, stealing, killing, rape and fires, I found this.  A long list of hopes and dreams that people have for their future, even in the midst of the despair, hope can be found no matter how small.

I saw a big black canvas written all over with white paint.

Hope is not lost.  Even in the midst of all of the despair, hope can be found.  We can't survive without it.  People here have big dreams of finding love and God and repairing what is broken.  Amazing things happen when we work together towards that dream.

Today I felt like it is well with my soul.

Hope has not been lost.