Despite the fact that I put on a few holiday pounds, I am still freezing my butt off. At the moment I am wearing two layers of clothes, a wool coat, and wrapped in a blanket. The sun is finally breaking thru the gloom of the cold February morning, and I am hoping to start being productive once my body temperature hits 95 F.
I have a lot to do today, including eating some leftover queso from Qdoba. I tried to hide it from Jack but somehow he found it last night around 10 pm. I heard him from my room, rooting through the refrigerator, so naturally I texted him from my bed to tell him the kitchen was closed. He put the queso away and came up to complain that he barely had any. I faked being sorry for him, while secretely breathing a sigh of relief, now that the house is empty and I can finish it off. I do a lot of nice things for my kids, however sharing my queso is not one of them.
Another activity I plan on doing today is taking my giant white 110 lb dog on a walk. Scout is VERY constipated today, running around like he might not make it to his “spot “ in the backyard. The constipation is much deserved as he ate another of my chair cushions from the deck. And you think your life is boring.
The next thing on my list has to do with helping find ways my 14 year old daughter can earn some money to buy herself a new phone. Just this morning, her rose gold, cracked iPhone finally went on to the other side. Faith tried to be strong about it all, knowing her texts and information are now gone. Forever. We even tried to find another phone, the kind they used in the stone age, from Billy’s technological goodie bag. He has cords, ear thingy’s, baby mice, and an old phone in that bag. Once he found the phone, he tried to plug in her old sim card (like anyone even knows what that is) and turn it on. Sadly, the phone was too old to work.
For a 14 year old girl, not having a phone, well that is about the worst kind of torture you can do to a person. Only thing worse than taking away a phone is making her wear loose fitting boot cut jeans, without any rips in them. (learned that the hard way) Anyway, Faith tried to act like not having a phone didn’t matter, and that she can save up for another one, but I could see right past the sadness. Her phone is the way she connects to her world. Her phone is her entertainment, calculator, boom box, and how she communicates with friends. I might even argue that Faith’s phone is her idol. I say that knowing full well I have struggled with that issue at times too.
As a mom, I have high hopes that this season of waiting for another phone is beneficial for Faith. Rather than walking around staring at a screen, she’ll have to stare at me. Or her friends. She might even see someone she’s never seen right before her very eyes. Who knows? Maybe she will talk to her friends and family in new ways that lead to new ideas, growth, independence, and freedom. Maybe she will see that a cell phone is not as important as she once thought it was.
The lessons of life, our kids are learning, from age 5-18 are all over the map. Some are simple such as: we don’t pick our noses. Some lessons are harder such as letting go of something that we thought we couldn’t live without. Last night I read in a book by Mark Batterson, about the idea that God speaks to us through our pain. This is not the only way or time He communicates to us, but it is one way He reminds us that we are not alone, and He is very much here for us. Often we are all so distracted by the millions of ways we are connected to the world, that our priorities become superficial and without true meaning. My prayer for Faith is that she sees God in new ways and that being in contact with others falls to second place in her life as she learns how God is speaking to her even now. Without a cellular plan. No emojis. God is not interested in validating her social status, or how many likes she has. God is interested in conveying to the deepest part of her heart how much she matters to Him. He speaks in ways we need to hear, with words that fill us with hope, and His message is clear: You, dear child, are the love of my life.