The One About the Girl With the Sharp Tongue Who Sometimes Cuts Her Own Throat...

OK, so… Boy, I seem to start a lot of my writings that way :-) 

But anyway…

Yes, it’s been a long several months since I last published anything; no, I’m not going to go into a lengthy explanation of the whys and wherefores of where I’ve been.  I will say this, though: Several months back, I read a blog post that a friend of mine shared about being careful not to spend so much time blogging about our lives that we forget to live them, and it really hit home for me.  So, I’ve been taking some time off from blogging and just kind of focusing on simply living life each day with my family and friends.  And life has been exceptionally busy this year, so… Yep.  That’s where I’ve been :-)

So, tonight, I was sitting here on the couch in our new apartment (we moved over the summer… yeah, that was actually one of the more fun parts of the busyness :-D ), listening to iTunes and working on my mental list of people I now owe apologies to for running my mouth (What?  Don’t tell me I’m the ONLY person out there who does that every once in a while… ^_^ ), and this song came on:

I’m like a promise, I’m like a promise
I’m like a promise broken every time I open my mouth
Open my mouth, I open my mouth

OK, yeah… That’s me, right there, encapsulated in a single sentence.  It’s like I know I’ve got so much potential in me to do good, to do the right things, to love people and treat them like I want to be treated….

And then I open my mouth and all that promise just gets hurled to the ground and shattered into shards of glass that fly everywhere and cut the people who most need me to be gentle with them.  The Bible says in James 3 that the tongue steers our life like the rudder of a ship, that unlike any other wild animal, we cannot seem to tame it, no matter how hard we try.  The human tongue is like a flame that sets the forest ablaze; in my case, it seems more like a scalpel that strips the skin away and leaves the nerves frayed and loose and open to all the grit of daily life…

Under the surface, under the surface
Under the surface sometimes I wanna slip right out of my skin
Out of my, slip right out of my skin

Sometimes, when I hear the words that come out of my mouth, all I want to do is find a way to pretend that I’m really someone else, a good twin who can deny all knowledge of anything “that other person” has said.  I wish there was someone else that I could shrug my shoulders for and say, “No, that wasn’t me… Must have been that other chick who just happens to look like me and live around here.  I think I saw her go off in that direction…”  Maybe, just maybe, 38 years ago, my mom actually gave birth to identical twins in secret, and then the government wiped her memory and took one of the twins away to train her as a black-leather-and-spandex-clad secret assassin, and now there’s some kind of super-secret spy agent out there who looks exactly like me (only in leather and spandex... which I, for the record, would never wear together...) and is now running around all over the Chehalem Valley doing whatever she can with her words to mess up my life and my relationships and my reputation so she can murder me and bury me under the new patio in the backyard and then seamlessly take over my life…

No, wait… that’s a show on Netflix.  Never mind.

Well, until my clones start showing up on my doorstep, I guess I’m stuck with the knowledge that, nope, it’s just me using my own tongue as a weapon of mass destruction to take out half the population of Newberg.  Sigh…

And tell all my secrets
And open my scars
Break into pieces
Cause at the end of me, at the end of me
That’s where You start

Now there’s the hope in the situation…  God doesn’t expect me to be perfect all the time.  God doesn’t expect me to be perfect any of the time.  Which is really good, because I’ve always sucked at perfection (just ask my sister… the real one, not the long-hoped for evil twin one ^_^ )  But when I get to the point where I’ve completely FUBARed things, that’s where God can come in and make the biggest difference.  Not that I should go around trying to screw everything up… but since I seem to be so darned good at it sometimes, it helps to know that God can salvage anything and turn it into something beautiful in His way and time :-)

Do you remember, do you remember?
Do you remember when I was young and I knew everything?
I knew everything about everything

(Yes, before she even comments, my sister will definitely confirm that this was totally me when we were growing up... and that at least 2 of my 3 kids take after their mother in that regard... and that she was NEVER like that at ANY point in HER youth... ;-D )

Such a long time, such a long time
Such an uphill climb just to finally get over myself
Over my, I’m so over myself

So tell all my secrets
And open my scars
Break me to pieces
Cause at the end of me, at the end of me
That’s where You start

I don’t know where, I don’t know how
Maybe a prayer, maybe a cloud
I don’t know where, I don’t know how

So tell all my secrets
And open my scars
Gather the pieces
Cause at the end of me, at the end of me
That’s where You start
                     --Bebo Norman, "At the End of Me"

You see, that’s what I absolutely LOVE about God: He takes us right where we are, and then moves us forward from there.  His grace isn’t about making me feel really crappy about the stupid thing I’ve just said— I already feel crappy enough about that already, thank you very much :-P  God’s grace says to me, “OK, yes, you messed up here, I concur.  Now here’s what we’re going to do about it… You go and do what you can to apologize and make things right, and meanwhile, I’ll go and take care of the rest of it.  Then we can leave this in the past and move on to our next crazy adventure…  Hurry up, gotta dash. Things happening. Well, four things. Well, four things and a lizard...”

(OK, so I'm still waiting for one of God's plans for me to include a lizard... Darn you, Netflix...)

I find that, when I’m stressed, I tend to lose what little control I have over my mouth, and then out come all sorts of sharply sarcastic, mean-spirited, “I was just joking…” sort of comments, armed and loaded and just ready to take flight and stab people straight in the heart.  And yes, I’ve been stressed recently… There’s a lot of stuff going on and way more running around and trying to fit everything everyone wants to do into the schedule somehow than I ever expected going into this school year.

But…

If I know that being stressed makes me more of a sharp-tongued shrew, then I have an obligation to try harder to keep it under control when I am stressed.  Because honestly?  None of the seemed-like-a-good-idea-at-the-time comments that come flying out of my mouth ever seem to make life easier or less stressful for anybody, myself included.

So this is why I’m writing this now…

First off, if you’re at all like me and you find yourself at times mistaking your tongue for a Ginsu...

... Don’t beat yourself up.  God loves you, He’ll forgive you if you ask Him to, and then He can help you get up and move on.  Apologize to the person you’ve hurt and ask for their forgiveness; they might forgive you, they might not, either way, you’ve done what you can to make peace (Romans 12:18, one of my favorite verses :-D ) and now all you can do is move forward anyway.  Maybe if I’m honest about the fact that I screw up waaaaaaaaay more often in this area than I’m proud of, it can help someone else too.

Second off (Second on?  Secondly?  Maybe it’s just Second…), I’m writing this to ask for people to help hold me accountable.  Sometimes (as God has been pointing out to me recently), I say things in the moment and then just kind of walk away thinking everyone’s laughing and every thing’s fine and everyone understands what I really meant… and I have absolutely no clue until days later that someone’s been lying on the ground behind me bleeding out from their soul because of something stupid that I said.  And let me tell you, that is one sickening realization to come to, especially when the person bleeding to death is someone I love almost more than life itself.

So, the next time I say something (or write something, or you’ve heard that I’ve said something) and it hurts, tell me.  I can’t do anything to make things right and try to bandage up the wounds I’ve caused unless I know about it.  And as a Christian, I want to make things right,  I want to heal wounds and make things better…  Just as I’m supposed to be an ambassador for Christ (2 Corinthians 5:20) and help to bring peace and healing between God and people, I need to do everything I can to bring peace and healing between myself and those that I have hurt.  Even if it’s embarrassing, even if it’s awkward, even if people never forgive me and I end up alone in some cave somewhere waiting for my evil clone twin to show up and finish the job I’ve started… 

No, wait… Too much Netflix is apparently bad for my blogging life :-P

I Do Not Want to Be Upgraded...

(OK, so here's the post I was intending to write on the 13th... If I'm very very clever I MIGHT actually get it published by the 14th... ^_^)

Kitty corner across the street from our apartment building, there is a church that offers a free breakfast on late-start Wednesdays for the students at the high school.  I've seen the sign, and I think it's a great idea, because even if they've already eaten at home, teenagers will inevitably be hungry again by the time they drive across town to get to school... and by offering breakfast on a late-start Wednesday, they're still leaving kids with enough time to grab a snack out of the vending machines on the way to first period as well :-)

Tuesday night, my daughter's boyfriend was apparently telling her that he wanted to stop by the church and get some food on their way to school the next morning.  Which makes sense except for the fact that... well, it's at a CHURCH.  My daughter's boyfriend is a brilliant guy and very sweet (especially to her), but he's not a Christian.  In fact, he dislikes church (for a lot of the same good reasons I hated churches and so-called Christians growing up), and pretty much refuses to go.  So, when my daughter told me (with a perplexed expression) about her boyfriend's plan for the next morning, I was both confused and intrigued.

Well, my daughter overslept, and so they didn't make it to the church breakfast thingy after all, but as he and I were waiting for her to finish getting ready, I asked him what he was thinking.  Which led to an interesting conversation about all manner of things religious, but what caught my imagination and hasn't let go of it all day was something that he told me his mom had told him about the church breakfast thing:

"'You do know that they're going to try and convert you, right?'"

Now, I don't know for sure if this church is one of those that feels the urge to convert everyone who walks through their doors, or if this is one of those seeker-friendly places that encourages every visitor to "find their own path to enlightenment."  But what his mom told him to watch out for (boy, it gets complicated trying to write without using names ^_^) just kind of resonated with me, because isn't that exactly what we as Christians do sometimes?  We get in the mindset that it's our job to "convert" people to Christianity, and that if we try to "share the gospel" with them and they DON'T get saved, then we've either not tried hard enough, or else we've done something wrong, or else they're just unrepentant sinners who are destined for hellfire and there's nothing we can do but simply wash our hands of them.

As I've mentioned before, I didn't grow up in a Christian home.  My mom told me as I was growing up that, because we have some Jewish blood in our grandmother's lineage, we were part of "God's Chosen People" and, therefore, we were automatically going to Heaven to be with God no matter what we did.  God simply gave us His commandments to tell us what to do and what not to do, and then He sent Jesus as a living example of how we were all supposed to live our lives.

This confused me.  On the one hand, God gave us a bunch of rules and filled in the gaps with some pretty scary consequences if we didn't obey (try reading through Exodus and Leviticus as a precocious 7 year old sometime... o.O).  On the other hand, it really doesn't matter whether we obey the rules or not, because if we're lucky enough to be Jewish, we're all going to go to Heaven anyway...?  By the time I was 10 or so, I figured that there really was no God, because either He was powerless ("Hah!  I broke all Your puny little commandments but You STILL have to let me in because I'm JEWWWWW-ISHHHHHHH!  Nyah, nyah, nyaaaaaahhhh!"), or else He must hate everybody and delight in torturing them ("You thought about stealing a pencil once because it was purple and sparkly, and since to think of breaking a commandment is the same as committing it in your heart, you are hereby sentenced to BUUUUUUUURRRRRNNNN... Thus saith the LORD!").  On top of that, I just didn't see how it would be fair to have an afterlife (i.e. Heaven) where EVERYBODY would get in no matter what they did or who they had a feud with on earth (I mean, my mom's parents were divorced... logically, then, how on earth could it be Heaven for either one of them if they were BOTH there?)  By the time I started junior high, I was one confused and, frankly, ticked off young lady-- all these years, and everyone who kept inviting me to church and Awanas and Neighborhood Bible Club had been LYING to me?

Because I used to get invited to a LOT of Christian events by well-meaning people at school and in my neighborhood.  And this is where the comment about being "converted" really hit home for me:  Every time I would get invited to a church or a Bible club, it was always the same bait-and-switch technique:

"Hey there, little girl... Do you like cookies?  Would you like to come over and have some cookies and milk after school.  We'll have a story, and some songs, and if you want, you can even play some musical instruments.  There will be other kids there... We'd LOVE it if you came!"

"Um... OK.  I like cookies, I guess..."

**arrives at house at right time, knocks on door timidly**

"Oooooooh, you CAME!  Hey everyone, look who's here with us today!  It's that one little girl from down the street!  You know, the one with the greasy hair and dirty clothes and holey shoes who OBVIOUSLY COMES FROM A PAGAN AND UNBELIEVING HOME..."  (OK, so no one ever actually said that last part out loud in front of me, but 1) it was always there in the pitying gazes of the adults in the room and in the snickers and haughty looks of the other kids, and 2) as an adult, I've heard those words come from the mouths of other church workers in reference to some of the kids we've had at VBS and Bible Clubs.)

"Um... Hi?"

"Oh, sweetie, we're so glad you're here!  Come on in and have a cookie..."

**comes in and stuffs face with cookie, completely oblivious to the quiet locking of the door behind her and the ominous music that really should be playing under a scene such as this...**

"Now, let's see... Where were we...?  Oh, yesssss... DO YOU KNOW FOR SURE IF YOU DIED TODAY THAT YOU WOULD GO TO HEAVEN???  WOULD YOU RATHER GO TO HELL???  OH NO, YOU WOULDN'T, WOULD YOU???  IF YOU ASK JESUS TO COME IN AND LIVE IN YOUR HEART RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW, TODAY, THEN YOU WILL GO TO HEAVEN TO BE WITH GOD FOREVER AND NOT ONLY THAT, BUT YOU WILL NEVER BE SAD OR LONELY AGAIN BECAUSE YOU WILL BE FILLED WITH THE HOLY GHOST AND JESUS PROMISES HE WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU OR FORSAKE YOU AND SO YOU WILL ALWAYS HAVE A FRIEND IN JESUS WHO WILL LIVE IN YOUR HEART FOREVER IF YOU JUST SAY THIS SIMPLE PRAYER WITH ME... Wouldn't you like that, little girl (whose name I can't remember right now)?  Wouldn't you like to go to Heaven and be with Jesus and God and be in-right out-right upright downright happy all the time?"

Um... WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY TO THAT WHEN I'M SITTING THERE WITH MY MOUTH FULL OF COOKIE AND A LOCKED DOOR BETWEEN ME AND THE OUTSIDE WORLD???

So, of course, I do what we all would do... I nod my head and, after swallowing the wad of cookie-mush that's now lodged in my throat, I dutifully echo whatever words of whatever prayer the nice Bible teacher wants me to say (most of which makes little to no sense whatsoever... but hey, now I've got a bearded dude in a white robe living in my left ventricle and some creepy ghosty-thing living in my right, and all of my synapses have been washed away with a whole lotta sheep's blood so as soon as I step outside, nothing bad will be able to touch me because I've got a nice leafy hedge to protect me, so it's all good, right?)  And then everybody sings a happy song, and everyone congratulates me on becoming a Christian-- while making sure not to touch me or get too close because, hey, I'm still wearing the same dirty clothes and holey shoes and greasy hair that I came in with.  And then they show me to the door and off I go, waltzing happily right back into the same messy world that I woke up in that morning.  And the next day, life is just as miserable as it was before I "asked Jesus into my heart" and "became a believer", and I'm left going, "Um... What's going on?  Where's my fabulous new life and all the riches of being a child of God?"

So the next week, I go back and start asking questions.  And what I'm told is that, in order to KEEP the blessings of God, I have to start making changes in my life.  I need to stop watching bad TV shows.  I need to stop listening to the devil's music.  I need to start dressing like a good Christian and not like the world, and most of all, I need to stop cussing, start going to church every Sunday, and get to work sharing the good news of Jesus with all of my friends and/or invite them to Bible Club too.  Never mind that 1) I don't have any control over the TV set or what we watch on it, 2) All of the "Christian" kids' music out there is boring and repetitive and seems to be written by aliens from the planet HappyHappy, 3) I have no money to go out and buy the clothes that all the "Christian" kids at school are wearing, 4) my mom works Sundays and so I have no way to get to church... besides, that, we're JEWISH, if you remember, and 5) at this time, I had no friends at school to share the "good news" with, much less any who would willingly go anywhere after school with me.

"So," I would finally ask, "What you're telling me is that God loves me, but now He wants to change everything about me?"

"Oh, yes... He loves you right where you're at, but He loves you too much to leave you that way."  (Worst mis-use of the truth of God EVER, right there, IMHO... :-/ )

"So... Why would God want me to be His kid if He doesn't even LIKE me?"

"Oh, sweetie... Um... Uh... Well, of COURSE God LOVES you...!"

"But does He LIKE me?"

"Well..."

"Do YOU even LIKE me?"  (I was a pretty messed up kid with a pretty big reputation for getting into arguments and cussing people out, even the teachers.  I was a hard person to like... I didn't even like me, so I totally understood why nobody else did either...)

"Well... Of COURSE we like you..."

"Really?  What's my name, then?"

"Your what?"

"My name.  Do you even remember my name?"

They usually didn't.  I usually didn't go back.

I got older and became your stereotypical Goth teenager; I hated everything, made everyone miserable, did everything I could to tick everyone off just to see what would happen.  Sophomore year, I tried to flunk out of Spanish class after scoring 2nd in state on the National Spanish Exam and then threatened to kill myself... just to see which one would get the bigger rise out of my mom.  Junior year, I wrote an essay about terrorizing the school counselor with tales of dismemberment and nearly got suspended.  Senior year, I tried to set up a "satanic ritual" at the lunch table using black plastic garbage bags, some table sugar, and a glow-in-the-dark skull candle; I also nearly got arrested for threatening a police officer with a knife because I was mouthing off to him while chopping up potatoes for dinner (now, WHY there was a police officer in my house while I was making dinner, that's a WHOLE other story altogether...)

And of course, for every crazy thing I did to try and prove that I really was a bad seed (one of the terms a VBS leader had used to describe me when I was 7 and throwing a mega-tantrum in her church), there was at least one well-meaning soul at my high school each year trying to convert me.  Why they wanted to convert me, I had no idea...  These people certainly didn't LIKE me, and they NEVER bothered to actually get to KNOW me before trying to "fix" me.  Maybe it was the idea that because I was so bad, I would make a more beautiful trophy on their spiritual wall, perhaps?  I don't know.  All I know was that it was always the same rigamarole, over and over again...

"Do you know for sure if you died today that you would go to Heaven?"
"I don't believe in your 'Heaven'."
"Oh, well then... I guess that means you're going to Hell, then."
"I don't believe in your 'Hell', either."
"Oh... Well, don't you believe in God?"
"Nope."
"But... Certainly you MUST believe in SOMETHING???"
"Nope... Not really.  Life sucks and then we die."
"But... but... Jesus, and... God, and the Holy Spirit, and... FOR GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD THAT HE GAVE HIS ONLY BEGOTTEN SON THAT WHOSOEVER BELIEVETH IN HIM SHALL NOT PERISH BUT SHALL HAVE EVERLASTING LIFE!  If you pray and ask Jesus into your heart then..."
"Been there, done that.  Didn't work."
"Oh.  Well, then, I guess you're going to hell, then.  Have a nice life anyway!"  And then they would scurry away, off to find one of their fellow "believers" to commiserate with about how the world was going to hell in a handbasket and how "that one girl" with the skull candle and all the chains was boldly leading the way.

And if I could have told them one thing, it would have been this: If your God is so small that He can't handle one scared, confused little girl wrapping herself in chains to defend herself, then your God is not one that I would want to serve anyway.

For those of you who still don't get why a non-Christian would ever turn down the chance to be "led to the Lord" in such a way, let me share with you what I've found to be the best pop-culture analogy to hit-and-run evangelism EVER...

(If the video above won't play, the entire Doctor Who episode I'm referencing is Series 2, Episode 5, "Rise of the Cybermen", and is available on Netflix and elsewhere; the specific scene takes place at about 37 minutes or so into the episode.)

Now, I am not trying to condemn Christian evangelism.  I'm not criticizing Christian missions in general, and I'm not saying that Christians should just give up and leave everyone else alone.  I'm sure that there are some of you reading this who think I'm attacking you, because you recognize some of the things I've quoted as coming from your own flyers and handouts.  My aim is not to attack anybody personally.

My aim is to make a point.

Non-Christians do not want to be converted. We do not wish to be "upgraded" against our wills.

We want to be loved.  We want to be respected.  We want to be treated as human beings, with names and stories, minds and souls.

Because here's the thing: If God actually is who you say He is, then He is big enough to handle all of the scared little kids out there who lash out at a cold and punishing world.  If your God is real, then He chose to create each and every person on this earth... every person who ever lived, who lives now, and who ever will live.  Each unique combination of sperm and egg, with its specific genetic code and one-of-a-kind life story... Your God knows each one, He chose each one, He placed each on in his or her specific time, place, and family... and He knows each and every one of the struggles that they will go through in their life before even one of their days comes to pass (Psalm 139).  If you're reading this and you're not a Christian, I'm not saying this to convince you to become one.  That's not my job.  I'm saying this because what I have seen and what I have lived through has convinced me that it is true.

All those years, all those people who only wanted to convert me so that they could add another tally mark to their weekly list of souls, all those people who gave up on me and told me I was going to go to hell...

They were wrong.

Because when I was 20, I encountered a God who actually knows me and loves me... and not only that, He actually likes me too.  I didn't become a Christian because somebody bullied me into it or forced me to convert against my will; I am a Christian today because somebody took the time to get to know me, to see me as a human being with value and a purpose, and to love me like God loved me all along.  I was able to contemplate God as a real possibility only after someone actually did for me what they said God already had been doing all along-- looking out for me, caring what happened to me, liking me for who I was, and loving me more than I loved myself.  I've already told bits and pieces of my story elsewhere on this blog (here and here and here and here), so I'm not going to make this post any longer by retelling you all exactly how I became a Christian and why.  But I do want to finish with some advice from someone with a foot in both camps:

To the Christians out there reading this:  Stop trying to upgrade every "unbeliever" you meet in your own image.  Start actually seeing us as people first instead of candidates for conversion or potential tally marks on your spiritual scorecard.  Because honestly, this is what your hit and run, win-'em-at-the-door evangelism style looks like to us.  If you're wondering why people don't want to hear your gospel, take a good look at your approach...  Do you actually like the people you're trying to save?  Would you be happy to sit next to them in church just as they are?  If they never decide to become Christians, would you still consider them your friends?  Do you know their names, their kids' names, their brothers' and sisters' names?  Do you know what makes them laugh, what makes them cry?  What their hopes for the future are and what keeps them awake at night?  If not, then you don't love them... and they will know it.  And why should we believe that your God (who supposedly knows all about us) loves us if you yourself (who don't know us from Adam) can't love us?  Finally, don't give up on us... You can't possibly know what's going to happen in 2 years, in 5 years, in 20 years, or on our deathbeds; for all you know, we may someday change our minds and decide that maybe there IS a God out there after all.  Or we may not.  God calls you to love your neighbor as yourself, not predict his or her future and bestow your affections accordingly.

To the non-Christians out there reading this:  Please don't judge all Christians by the actions of some.  Not every Christian you meet is out to grind you up and turn you into a Cyber-Believer.  You don't like it when we judge and condemn you without actually knowing anything about you; please don't do that to us either.  Be honest with us about what you do believe (because everybody believes in something); be willing to share your thoughts and listen to ours in return.  Don't be as big a snot as I was, because looking back, I can now see that some of the people I thought only wanted to convert me actually did care and actually were trying to help... and all I did was brush them off and make myself even more miserable.

OK, so now that I've probably managed to tick people off on BOTH sides of the fence... Any thoughts to share?

My Top 9 Obstacles to Writing and/or Finishing a Blog Post

OK, so I originally sat down to write a post inspired by a conversation I had this morning with my daughter's boyfriend, but instead... Here are the Top 9 Things That Always Seem to Get in the Way of Me Writing the Blog Posts I INTEND to Write... 

9. Being sick... again...   Yep, I'm wrapping up Day #4 of my annual holiday season head/chest cold nastiness.  It hurts to breathe, because my lungs itch and I feel like I need to cough.  But it hurts to cough, so I try not to, especially since when I'm coughing, I'm not breathing, and that's kind of a negative in my book.  And then there's the added bonus of the headache, fever, chills, and nasal nastiness to keep me company...  And if I'm really, really, REALLY lucky, one or more of my kids will catch it and then we can spend the long rainy days together watching the Princess Bride and whining about the taste of NyQuil.  And thus good times shall be had by all... o.O   The bug has struck early this year, though... so maybe I'll actually be healthy when it comes time for the holidays, for a change :-)  I can always hope, right?

8. Because the sight of Mom typing automatically means "Hey, she's not busy... Ask her anything!!!"  Why is it that, whenever I sit down to type, that's always the moment when everybody needs my undivided attention, and all of it RIGHT NOW?  "Honey, where would we have squirt guns?" "Mom, guess what?  I finally got Steve to play Pokemon Indigo on his phone at lunch today!" "Hey, Mom, the APUSH teacher says I can watch the movie "Glory" for extra credit... And has Madame posted the grades for the last French quiz online yet?" "Hey, Mom, wanna hear a joke I heard at school today?"  "Honey, are you SURE we don't still have all those empty coffee cans around here someplace?  I was keeping them to use for weeble-walkers, but now I need them for the Cub Scout meeting tonight..." "Hey, Mom... What are we having for dinner?"  "Honey... I need to boil an egg.  Do you have anything you might need hardboiled eggs for?  Because it seems silly to just boil one egg..."  "So, Mom... When are you going to fill out my permission slip for the Boy Scout camping trip this weekend?"  "Hey, Honey... How do I know if this egg from the fridge is hard-boiled or not?  Because isn't it supposed to be kind of sloshy if it's not hard boiled?  And I can't get this one to slosh..."  Seriously... and all of these are just from tonight.  And did I mention I've been sick for 4 days, and typing is about the only thing I can do without getting completely wiped out?  I think I might just lose my mind...

7. And then there's that stupid stinking timer...  We have a timer to help me keep track of dinner, and it never fails...  I'll set the timer, thinking I've got however many minutes to write (or do whatever it is I think I need to be doing right then), sit down, and juuuuuusst as I get really into the task...

BEEE DE DE DEEEEP, BEEE DE DE DEEEEP, BEEE DE DE DEEEP, BEEE DE DE DEEEP...

My kids, bless their souls, tried to help me like our timer better by pointing out that it's got the same rhythm as the sound that loops in the Master's head in "The Sound of Drums"...

... but somehow, it just isn't all that reassuring o.O  (Though it DOES lend weight to my theory that ANYTHING can be turned into a Doctor Who reference... :-D )

There are also timers on the microwave, washer, and dryer, and I swear, nothing disrupts your train of thought like a sudden BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP when you're least expecting it.  Forget Britney Spears... I'm thinking that, if they really want to mentally cripple pirates in Somalia, they really just need to borrow my washer and dryer for a week ^_^

6. The care and feeding of miniature humans... What do you mean, "You're hungry???  I just fed you yesterday..."  When my youngest was a toddler, he would come out of his room every morning, looking adorable in his footie pajamas and with his hobbit-mop of red curls springing out all over the place, and he would track down me or my husband each day with the same exact pronouncement: "Mo-om (or Da-ad)... I'm hungry AGAIN...!"  To which, of course, there can only be one reasonable response: "What do you mean?  We just fed you yesterday...!"  Lest anyone think that we were mean parents, though, we did always walk with him into the kitchen and help him get his breakfast, after which he was generally content to go and play until time for snack... or, in hobbit-speak, second breakfast.  And elevensies... and lunch... and second lunch... and so on.  We don't just call him the Hobbit for no reason, you know... ^_^

Even now, though, at 10 years old, that kid STILL keeps insisting that I feed him... every single day, without fail.  And not only that, but he's got his brother and sister trained to expect the SAME THING too, now!  I mean, come on, people... What are you going to do when you go off to college and have to fend for yourselves?  Oh, wait... that's what cafeteria food is for... never mind, then ^_^

Seriously though (just in case you didn't pick up on the invisible sarcasm font of that previous paragraph ;-) )...  I have this weird aversion to cooking meals.  Every day, I dread having to make dinner... but every day, I feel like it's my obligation as a mom to provide sustenance for my family.  And for some reason, the urge to write always seems to strike me at right about 4:30 or 5-ish in the afternoon...

"Oh, hey, I've got this FABULOUS brainstorm of an idea for my next blog post!  I'd better type it out before I forget..." **typety type, clickity-click, typety type type**  "Wait, what...?  You have somewhere to be at 7 and you need dinner first?  Aw, maaaaaannnnn... OK, guess I'll come back to this later...  It's Hamburger Helper time again!"  (I have a serious love-hate relationship with Hamburger Helper...  it's actually kind of scary o.O )

In their defense, though (before anyone starts commenting that I should pass along the mealtime chore to my kids for their sake and mine...), my kids ARE actually learning how to cook for themselves... even though it sometimes results in Facebook posts like the following:

3/5 of my family members proved today that they apparently don't know how to cook macaroni properly... Which led to this conversation:

Me: "Great... Y'all better hope nothing ever happens to me, 'cause if I die, you're all gonna starve..."
Middle Child: "I know how to make noodles..."
Eldest Child: "OK, so when Mom dies, you're in charge of making the noodles for everyone, then."
Me: "Um... Because noodles are amazing...?"

5. My inability to concentrate whenever there's anything else going on in the room...  I'm just going to chalk this one up to the fact that, with autism, there's no such thing as tuning the world out and focusing on my... oh, hey, was that a squirrel or just the neighbor's cat?  And why is that door open AGAIN?  And can't you people see that there's a RIGHT way to stack the dirty dishes on the counter and a WRONG way to do it?  And that sound the fan is making... Something's wrong with it...  And how can I be expected to concentrate when the neighbors are watching WWE, anyway?

AUTISM: Any Useless Tangent Is Something to Me...

And there goes that timer... again... Here come the drums, here come the drums...?  o.O
 
4. Because there's nothing so fascinating in the world as what's on Mom's computer screen...  One of my pet peeves has always been people reading over my shoulder.  First off, it's an invasion of my personal bubble, which I'm very attached to and without which I'd go off the deep end.  Second, it feels like someone's snuck up behind me, pried open my head, and is going through my brain matter like a five year old with an Operation game... "Hey there... What 'cha reading?  Is it good?  How did you find THAT article?  What do you think about the subject?  What's that link there go to?"  This is even MORE nerve-wracking when it's not just a Facebook post or a news article that I'm looking over, but my own unfinished blog-post-to-be... the very core of what I'm thinking and feeling at that moment, naked and exposed to the open air.

Look, people... It takes me a while to synthesize what I'm reading and formulate an opinion.  It also takes me a while to find the right words to express what I'm thinking about any given topic, because I want to make sure that what goes out on the blogosphere is an accurate reflection of my actual thoughts and opinions, and not some emotionally-charged hormono-rant that I'm going to regret in the morning.  When that process of choosing words, looking them over, reconsidering, and revising is interrupted, I shut down... my brain puts everything on hold, and all I can think to do is to slam the computer shut to protect myself.  And then I never seem to be able to pick up my thoughts again... and yet another post goes into the "Draft" pile...

3. The DAemon Twins: Discouragement and Apathy...  I covered this topic in my last blog post...  Basically, it's that notion I get that I have nothing worth saying and no energy to bother saying it with.  I let these two get in my way far more often than I should... But at least by being honest and transparent about it, I can climb back on that keyboard and ride back into the battle... OK, now THAT analogy didn't work and just kept on going anyway... o.O

2. How do I tell an honest story without offending anyone or hurting their feelings?  First and foremost, I want to be honest and transparent in all I say, do, and write... For me, it's a matter of integrity.  But sometimes, life is messy, and sometimes, people are ugly.  And sometimes, being honest means exposing that ugliness and letting people see the consequences of their bad decisions.  That's a really difficult thing for me, though, because honestly, I want everyone to like me and to be happy about everything I write.  I don't like ruffling feathers or putting people on the spot publicly...  To quote one of my favorite Bible verses (I use it as my email signature as a constant reminder), as far as it depends on me, I want to live at peace with everyone (Romans 12:18)  There's also the verses about how love covers a multitude of sins (1 Peter 4:8, Proverbs 10:12 and 17:9); if I love someone, the last thing I want to do is publicly humiliate them or put them in a spotlight for others to mock or condemn.  So, for now, there are a LOT of things I would love to write about... but for the sake of love and for the purpose of keeping the peace, I won't.  Some of you who may know me well enough to know my story may wonder why I never mention some things on my blog, even though they're HUGE right now in my life; this is my reason why.

And the Number One Obstacle to Me Writing What I MEAN to Write...

1. My own high expectations...  When I was in college, I remember reading an article in which the author asked the question: Why isn't it enough anymore for us to be just good at something?  Why must we always be the best or else feel that we've failed?  It's like our culture has told us that, if we're not the best, we're worthless.  If our schools aren't #1 in the world, then we're failing.  If I didn't get the highest grade in the class, then I'm not trying hard enough.  When we think like this, we're setting ourselves up for disaster, because no matter how hard we work or how much effort we put into something, chances are there is always going to be someone somewhere in the world who can top us.  Any record we set will someday be toppled; any achievement we make will someday be matched.  So... Why aim for a target that can never be met?

When I'm faced with this realization, I tend to get discouraged and give up (hey, look, it's those DAemon twins again...).  And then I end up fulfilling the prophecy of not being good enough, because by not writing ANYTHING, I'm definitely not writing the BEST of anything, or even anything remotely near GOOD... it's just a big pile of silence and frustration.  And if God has called me to write and to give encouragement to others, then by writing nothing, I'm basically sitting in the corner sulking and refusing to obey.  And that is most definitely NOT something I want to have to fess up to...

So...

If I can't sulk and get away with it by hiding (because that wouldn't be transparent), and I can't rationalize and talk my way out of being disobedient (because that wouldn't be honest), then the only option left to me is to obey, to go forward and write, whether I think the result is worth the effort or not.  And maybe I'll learn to be OK with just doing my best and letting God do what He wants with it.  I'm such a perfectionist; I expect soooo much more out of myself than anyone else around me does.  I want every post to be brilliant, every word perfectly chosen, every conclusion the final word on the subject, and every "Aha!" moment an illumination of truth in this dark world.  And when it isn't, I wonder why I should even bother.  But then I remember that I'm not the light of the world-- Jesus is.  I'm not perfect-- but Jesus is.  I don't get to have the final word on anything-- God does.  And I don't have to be brilliant-- it's enough for me to be me and to be content with that :-)



So... To all my writer friends out there (you know who you are, and even if you didn't, you do now, because, yes, I'm talking to YOU :-P )... What are the things that keep YOU from writing?  Am I the only one who deals with this crazy stuff?  What do you do to stay motivated to write?

Faith is...?

First off, my apologies to anyone out there who was paying attention and noticed that I haven't posted anything since April... I've been super busy spending time with my family, which has included:

• Subbing... and more subbing (the end of the year is generally like that, as teachers need time off to plan for the next year and whatnot),
• Working with my freshman to plan the rest of her high-school coursework,
• Helping her prepare for and then watching her perform in her first high-school drama production,
• Getting my 8th grader graduated from middle school and ready for high school,
• Chaperoning his end-of-the-year band festivals and field trips,
• Keeping my 4th grader from driving his older siblings completely bonkers (partially bonkers or almost-totally bonkers is OK though... it helps keep them from getting bored ^_^ ),
• Coordinating with various and sundry friends and family to get all 3 kids to their assorted scouting activities and camps,
• Dyeing my daughter's hair bright orange so she could portray Lucille Ball for all of the little Brownies and Juniors at Girl Scout Day Camp (it's still streaked pink in spots where the cherry Kool-Aid took more deeply to her hair than the Ion Color Brilliance Semi-Permanent Orange did),
• Spending 4 days camping at the coast (and being entertained by watching my daughter trying to find cell phone reception on the beach... "Wait!  Stop walking!  I've got bars now!  Just so long as I don't move off of this rock right... here... Oh, hey, he's calling me back! Hi there, handsome... Drat!  Gone again... Grrr... CURSE YOU T-MOBILE!!!!")
• Welcoming my baby nephew (the first child for my sister and her hubby :-D ),
• Hosting my niece from Virginia and watching as much Doctor Who as physically possible in 5 days time... which just proves the wisdom of images such as this:

... and probably half a dozen other things I've already forgotten about but that most likely seemed critically important at the time :-)

I've also kind of been suffering from a bit of writer's block... It's not that I have no ideas for what to write about; it's more like none of the ideas go very far before I lose interest or get frustrated with the tone my writing seems to be taking.  So I've been taking a bit of a break from the blog and refocusing on what's really important :-)  And now that the summer is winding down, I'm feeling the pull back into writing... which makes me happy :-)

__________________________________________

Once again, I've been inspired by conversations with my daughter's friends, particularly those who are the staunchest non-Christians.  It always intrigues me to hear what they think of my chosen religion; I'm fascinated by how they can be so totally off and yet so right on about it at the same time :-)  So... One of the ideas I've been toying with is the concept of "The Top 10 Myths of the Christian Life."  Except that now I'm up to 20...  10 myths that we Christians seem to hold and 10 myths that non-Christians seem to hold about us.  So, since that post may take a while to fully come together and might well take up billions upon billions of bytes of web data, I figured I'd start with an idea from one of those lists and just kind of run-- or more like sprint, since I'm hoping this will be a relatively short post-- with it...  Though at the moment, I fear this is going to take a LOT longer than I intended it to, mainly because my beautiful and brilliant daughter is sitting three feet away from me and going on and on about the fascinating history of Catherine of Aragon, Henry VIII, and the Holy Roman Empire o.O  Which is just a wee bit distracting, especially when she keeps referring to the King of England as a narwhal (our pet term for hyper-hormonal teenaged boys)...

__________________________________________

There seems to be this idea out there of "faith" being this nebulous set of standards that religious people use to justify their behavior.  If I don't let my daughter or son go to see an R-rated movie, it's because such things "go against our faith."  If I vote for candidates who support limits on or the abolition of abortion, I'm doing it "because of my faith."  If I choose to homeschool my kids or put them in Christian schools, I'm doing it to "defend their faith."  And if I listen to Christian radio or watch Christian TV, I hear constantly about the dire need to "fight for the faith."

But what IS this "faith"?  And what does it mean to "have faith in" something?

The Bible says that faith is "the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." (Hebrews 11:1, New King James Version).  It is (as my 10-year-old's Bible phrases it) being sure of what you hope for and certain of what you can't see.  For me, this puts that grand notion of "faith" into a concrete, tangible form that I can totally grasp.

We live about 100 feet from a 4-way intersection in our small college town; whenever I leave to drive pretty much anywhere, I pretty much always drive through this intersection.  When I approach the intersection, I hope that my brakes are going to work; when I press my foot down on the brake pedal, I'm pretty certain that it's actually going to do something to help stop the car.  I don't know for sure that the brakes are going to work; I can't see whether or not the brake lines have been cut in the night or if the bolts that connect the various parts of the brake system have snapped (can you tell yet that I'm really not a car person? ^_^ )  But still, I stomp down on that brake pedal as if my life depends on it... especially at about 2:45 in the afternoon, when all the crazy teen drivers are leaving the high school that's about 2 blocks further down the road o.O  Basically, I have enough faith in my brakes to put them to use and trust that they're going to keep me from slamming into the side of that jacked up Toyota pickup filled with a half-dozen teenaged boys who seem to forget on a daily basis that that funky red octagon does not mean "Gun it!"

Some of the other things I put faith in are a little less mundane.  I have faith that, if my home gets broken into, I can and should call the police and have them investigate; I also have faith that, if the burglar is found, he will be prosecuted in the court of law.  Why do I have this faith in our police and legal system?  Not because it always works the way I expect it to or because it's always worked perfectly in every circumstance, that's for sure o.O  But I do have faith in it because it seems that, more often than not, it does work, and I have never found myself shortchanged by it.  If I ever do find myself on the losing end of the legal system or end up being ripped off by the cops I assume are going to protect me, I might change my point of view on the system.  But for now, based on my own personal experiences, I choose to have faith in the system.

And then there are the big-picture things of life that I also put my faith in.  I have faith that, if I raise my kids to respect others, work hard, be obedient to parents, teachers, employers, and police officers, and think critically, then they will be successful in their lives as adults.  I have absolutely no way whatsoever to prove now that they will end up that way; in fact, there are countless examples in the world of kids whose parents did everything "right" but who still ended up shipwrecking their own lives as teens or adults.  I choose to have faith in the belief that we're raising our kids right because to not raise our kids this way seems to be begging for trouble.  And as we raise our kids and watch them become respectful, smart, responsible young adults, I see confirmation that my faith in their upbringing is valid.

Brake lines... law & order... good parenting: These are some of the things I choose to have faith in...

And so, I suspect, do you.

We all have faith in all kinds of stuff... Faith is simply believing in something strongly enough to put it to use in our daily life.  We have faith that the sun is going to come up tomorrow; when we lay down at night and close our eyes, we have faith that we're going to wake up in the morning.  We have faith that, when we walk down the sidewalk, all the cars are going to stay in their lanes on the road and not hop the curb and mow us down like unruly blades of grass.

As a counterexample, just try to imagine what your day would be like without faith in any of these things...  Imagine that, once the sun drops below the horizon, it might or might not rise ever again.  Imagine, as you tuck yourself into your bed, that you might stop breathing and die at any point after you fall asleep.  Imagine walking along the roadside and expecting every car to veer off course and crush you.

You'd be scared to death of living at all... And so would I, without faith.  Faith is being sure of what we hope for (that the cars will stay in their rightful lanes, that our lungs will keep inhaling and exhaling even as we're dreaming of our Language Arts teacher waxing our feet, that the sun will come up tomorrow... bet your bottom dollar that tomorroooooow, there'll be suuuuunnnn...) and certain of what we cannot yet see (the unbroken brake lines in our car, the integrity of the police and the judges in their courtrooms, the future of our children).  We all have faith in something, and that's an undeniable fact of life.

The question, then, that divides Christians and non-Christians is not "Do you have faith?"  It's the question "What do you put your faith in?"  And that, in the interest of keeping this post short, is a topic for another day :-)

...Whether we want it to be or not...

I guess this is kind of a Part 2 to my last post ("For some of us, every day is April 2nd..."), which was basically all about being autistic and learning to embrace it.  And about 95% of the time, I do embrace it and I'm proud to be me, for better, for worse, and for crazy-weird fun :-)  But then again, there are those days like today that make up that other 5%...

Is it OK to admit that I'm struggling?

As Christians, it seems we're always told to glorify God with our words and with our testimony, and that if we sometimes question why He made us this way or is letting us go through something, we're just walking in doubt instead of in faith.  And somehow, even without saying it explicitly, the message is communicated that this is sinful and disobedient to the God who fearfully and wonderfully made us.  But at the same time, I know that as Paul said in 2 Corinthians 12:10, the times when I am weak as a person are the times when I am strongest as a Christian, because then God can work most visibly in and through me.  So...

Is it OK to admit that I'm struggling?

The past month or so has been crazy busy, what with my husband and 2 of my 3 kids having birthdays, a couple rounds of the Creeping Lung Crud, several subbing jobs, a 1980s-themed Sadie Hawkins dance at the high school (funny how I don't remember the 80s looking quite that bad... then again, I grew up in the 90s, so... o.O), car troubles, job changes, a heart attack scare, and about half a dozen other minor disasters thrown in for comedic effect... oh, and Spring Break too, for that matter.  And this past Saturday, we wrapped up our annual Month of Chaos with my daughter's 15th birthday party, where about a dozen of her best friends crammed into our little apartment to watch Literal Trailers videos and Princess Bride, play Apples to Apples, and take crazy pictures of themselves to post on Instagram.  It was actually a lot of fun, and nothing got broken or thrown this time, so I'd call it an unqualified success :-D

When I made it through Saturday night and all day Sunday without a meltdown, I figured everything was fine, great, dandy... Hey, maybe I've finally developed enough coping skills to actually manage my autism and screen out all of the excess stimuli created by 6 straight hours of 12 hollering teenagers... Maybe I'm finally cured of my autism and my world will actually turn into something normal and I can go on and give my kids the normal life I've always wanted for them...  Maybe this is the start of a new and glorious chapter in my personal history; the Fourth Great and Bountiful Beautiful-Letdownian Empire!  (See... anything can be turned into a Doctor Who reference if you try hard enough... ^_^)

And then... today hit. And the firecrackers started going off in my brain and haven't yet stopped.  And every little tick of the clock and whirr of the fan and beeeeep of the washer makes me want to scream and throw them out the window, the window, the second story window (and I'm betting that you were just there singing along with me, weren't you? ^_^)  And the only way to cope with my daughter's missing cell phone and my son's field trip permission slip and my husband wanting to spend some quality time with me was to go completely numb and just keep repeating the same semi-helpful statements of fact ("No I don't know where it is the last time I saw it you were turning it off at church...  I'm going with your brother on his field trip that day go ask your father if he can chaperone for you... I guess I'm still just really tired from the party and cleaning up afterwards...") over and over again until whatever the issue was resolved itself.  And my 10 year old fell down while selling candy bars for Cub Scouts and scraped up his knee and elbow, and a 14 year old girl disappeared on her way to school in Utah, and someone set off bombs at the Boston Marathon, and so help me, I just didn't care.  And I sat in my car while waiting for my 13 year old to come out of his Boy Scout meeting and just cried and begged God to help me get it together so that I wouldn't scare the living bejeebers out of my kids by having a nervous breakdown in front of them or running my car into a tree for no reason other than to end the madness.

Some days, I hate being this way.  

And on days like this, with the knowledge that April is Autism Awareness Month... all month long... what I wish for most is an Autism Unawareness Day.

One day where, for once, I feel like I'm completely normal and acceptable just as I am.

One day where I don't have to struggle to find the right word and people know what I mean from the words that actually come out of my mouth; a day where, when I'm trying to identify that long thin thing in the conductor's hand as he waves it over the band and I call it first a "stick", and then a "wand," nobody leans over with a snicker and says "Mom, it's Harry Potter that has a wand... That's called a baton."  I know it's a baton, dear... I just misplaced the word for a moment :-/

One day where nobody gives me the Icy Stare of Death because I've described something exactly as I see it and thrown all tact to the wind without even realizing it.

One day where I don't have to wonder what I'm supposed to feel or what I'm supposed to do when something horrific happens in a faraway place like Boston or Manhattan or Newtown, where I can understand why everyone around me is freaking out and holding candlelight vigils from 2000 miles away.

One day where I can feel like I'm fully a part of the world around me, fully engaged and fully equipped to cope with whatever happens... without having to pay the inevitable price of a day like today.

One day where I can be myself, without a mask or a persona, and know that  I won't be shattered beyond repair by the words, the gaze, or the touch of others.

What I want is one day, even if it's just one day, where I can forget completely that I'm autistic and just feel normal for a change, where I and everyone else around me can be totally unaware of my autism and not think instead that I'm just another freak.

Sigh... Yes, I know I'm whining.  I know I'm venting, and I'm using my blog as a place to do it so that maybe someone else out there who struggles with this stuff will realize they're not alone.  I'm venting here so that people will know that, maybe, sometimes, it's OK to admit that we're struggling with the role God has given us to play in this life, because when we admit how weak we are and how dark our world may seem at times, we can see more clearly what a strength and a light our God is.

Even when I'm thrashing about in the midst of a verbal temper tantrum, kicking and screaming at God and asking Him "WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GO AND MAKE ME THIS WAY????  DON'T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I *%#*@&* HATE THIS????  DON'T YOU CARE???", I know that He made me this way for a reason because He doesn't screw up.  And I know that when I'm all cried out and ready to listen, He'll show me something to make me realize that He's got something bigger in the works than just making me feel "normal"... which is another word for average, which is another word for mediocre, which is just not acceptable for a hyperactive overachiever like me anyway ^_^

So... Is it OK to admit that I'm struggling today?  Yes, I think so.

Am I ever going to get my Autism Unawareness Day?  No, probably not.

Am I ever going to be "normal" or even feel "normal"?  Nope.  Normal is highly overrated anyway.

But hey... At least I don't have to worry about anyone impersonating me or replacing me in God's crazy plan.  Supernatural job security... I guess I can live with that ^_^

And now for today's video...  This has been one of my all-time favorite songs for about 17 years now, one of those songs that just makes me stop whatever I'm doing and just shut up and listen (thankfully, it doesn't often come on my iPod while I'm driving...)  It just seemed like a good note to leave this post on, so...

The Handy-Dandy Guide to Relationships... Teen Edition :-)

OK, so just this week, my lovely daughter brought it to my attention that there seems to be some confusion among the younger generation (AKA her oh-so-helpful friends at lunch the other day) as to what exactly puts two people in the category of "dating."  So, with a smile on my face that says I'm 48% joking, I'm going to dedicate this blog post to the Subtle Differences Between the Various Stages of Teenage Relationships.  (And for those of you reading this who are actually a part of this "younger generation", you can use this as a handy-dandy guide to what us old geezers are thinking when we use these phrases in front of you and your potential boyfriend/girlfriend...  We're not actually TRYING to humiliate you, it's just that it comes so naturally to us... ^_^ )

"The Crush"
Ah, yes... this is the way that many teenage relationships seem to start out.  You like him/her... and usually, he/she hasn't quite figured out that you exist yet.  But you're hopeful, because you just know that, as soon as he/she notices that you like him/her (assuming that they first realize that you exist, of course), he or she will recognize that the two of you have virtually everything in common and were obviously meant to be together.  This stage usually lasts until you figure out that everything you love about your crush is based upon how little you actually know about your crush, and once you realize how truly annoying he or she can be, the fascination dries up pretty quickly :-/  This is most definitely the single most irritating type of teenage relationship for your friends, since the only thing you ever want to talk about in the Crush stage is your crush; it's particularly annoying to those friends who also happen to be in the Crush stage but are crushing on you as you're crushing on someone else... but anyway...

"Dating"
This is the "test-driving" stage of a relationship.  Basically, when you're "dating" (or "allowed to date", as all my fellow parents out there are probably hollering right about now...), your main goal is to try out as many of the local hotties as possible in search of that One True Love of Your Life.  So, when that cute guy from Biology class asks you if you want to go and see "An Unexpected Miserable Parental Guidance Chainsaw Trip Unchained" with him next Saturday afternoon, naturally you say "Yes!"... even though you've already got plans to go and see the very same movie with the cute guy from Geometry on Friday night ^_^   No commitment, no expectations, no jealousy allowed... just looking for a good time with whoever asks first... that's "dating."  (In other words, if you're a teenage boy and you're thinking about asking if you can "date" my daughter, start preparing yourself now for an answer of either "Um, no...", "NO.", "HECK no!", and/or "I'm the Doctor... Basically, RUN.")...

"Going Out"
This is the stage where you actually start going out to stuff with the same person more than once... For example, let's say you both thoroughly enjoyed "An Unexpected Miserable Parental Guidance Chainsaw Trip Unchained", and now he's asking you if you want to go with him to see "The Rise of the 40 Jack Reachers in the Promised Land" next weekend.  And since you had a good time before AND you still think he's kind of cute (and he didn't pick his nose even once that you noticed during the movie...), you say "Sure... Why not?"  So, now that you've been spotted out in public with the same person multiple times, it's perfectly reasonable for your friends/friends' friends/parents' annoying coworkers to start asking, "Hey, so... are you two a couple?"  And now, finally, you have the perfect answer for them: "Well... We're going out."  Short, simple, and vague enough to only be slightly awkward ^_^

"Going Steady"
(My mother-in-law gave me this one... Personally, I hadn't heard it since I was a teenager, but now that I'm the parent of teens, it's kind of starting to grow on me... )

Now, this is where things start to get interesting o.O  You like him/her... and he/she likes you back.  You've done the whole "going out" thing several times, and you've both pretty much stopped going out with anyone else.  However... you're not really sure that you're quite ready for That Special Someone to come home and meet the rest of your crazy family just yet... especially if they're the kind of family that entertains themselves by dissecting the personality quirks of every new visitor and/or throwing food at mealtimes...


So... "going steady" means that you're kind of a couple now... in an officially unofficial sense, anyway.  Your friends all know you're a couple, but your parents and all of their friends and family members are still trying to explain your relationship by saying things like, "He's such a nice boy... and they're so cute together!" or "Aww... Isn't puppy love adorable?"  Which leads to all sorts of interesting family nicknames for your Almost-Significant Other... such as:

• The Unofficial Boyfriend (AKA The Ubbie)
• His Unofficial Girlfriend (AKA The Huggie)
• The He's-NOT-My-Boyfriend/She's-NOT-My-Girlfriend (if you can figure out how to turn HNMB or SNMG into something both acronymical and cutesy, be my guest...)
• The Potential Boyfriend/Potential Girlfriend (shortening this to "Pot Boy" or "Pot Girl", however, will probably NOT win you any coolness points with the teens in your life.  Just sayin'...) 
• The We're-Just-Friends... Really-Really-Really-Good-Friends (added emphasis on the last Really is purely optional, but adds that touch of flavor and mystery to the phrase that makes one raise the eyebrow and go "Oh, really?")
• Your Young Man Friend.  (I have my sister to blame for that one...  Apparently, there is more than one way to interpret the phrase "He's NOT MY BOYFRIEND!" after all o.O  I draw the line, however, at acronymizing this to "The Yummie"...)

"Boyfriend/Girlfriend"
So.  This is (or should be, anyway) the epitome of teenage relationship status clarity.  You like him/her, he/she likes you back, and you've brought him/her home to meet your parents and siblings AND gone over to meet his/her parents and siblings as well.  He/she has asked you to be his/her girlfriend/boyfriend, and you've decided that yes, you're willing to ignore all of the other possible hotties in your life and settle on this one person for the foreseeable future, with the expectation that he/she is going to do the same.  This is the point at which you change your Facebook status, put pictures of him/her in your locker and on the walls of your room, and start referring to him/her in every possible situation as "My boyfriend/my girlfriend..."

Friend 1: "So, Steve and I are going to the movies this weekend.  Do you want to come with us?"
You: "Sure!  My boyfriend and I would LOVE to!  Which movie and what time?"

Friend 2:  "So, Morgan and I were sitting in Modern World History this morning, and OMG, I could not believe what Shelbie and Dakota were saying about Tiffany's dress at Homecoming..."
You:  "Yeah, I know... My boyfriend is in that class too, and he totally heard them talking about it..."

Friend 3:  "So, we went to my grandparents' house for Thanksgiving, and the pumpkin pie caught fire and burned one wall of the kitchen, which my Uncle Ernie had to use the egg nog to put out, but then we had to take him to the hospital with 2nd degree burns..."
You:  "Hey, my boyfriend has grandparents too!  And he likes things that catch fire... and pie..."

But anyway... That's pretty much The Beautiful Letdown's Handy Dandy Guide to Relationships for Teenagers in a nutshell ^_^  Enjoy, and try to avoid the flaming pie next time...