What Miley Can Teach Us

Miley Cyrus. Photo Credit: Photobucket.

The last few days have seen a flurry of activity in the news, online, and in the blog world about Miley Cyrus and her performance at the VMA's. I won't link to any of that because you can find it if you're interested.  I have not seen the show nor the clips, but the descriptions some people gave and a few pictures I've seen are more than enough to both anger me and break my heart.

Forgive me for using a poor phrase, but some say I don't have a dog in the fight because I don't have any daughters of my own, nor do I have sons who would be caught up in that temptation. True. My son isn't "into" dating or even noticing girls for more than half a second. His world consists of food, sleeping, and music for the most part. I do however, have two young nieces growing up in this world and I know friends with daughters at this time. My concern isn't just for the young ladies I'm related to. I'm concerned about them all.

One post I read mentioned that parents who allow their children to watch MTV should expect some filth. That is a true statement, but filth has permeated more than just that arena. Magazines and ads geared toward teens and tweens encourage provocative dress. A movie I watched on Netflix recently about a coach who dared to try and teach his basketball team educational and personal responsibility showed a school dance scene that included a girl of 15, 16 years of age simulating a sex act with a boy. Some just call that "harmless dancing." And shows like Toddlers and Tiaras or a trip to the beach teach us that  risque and "mature" outfits are being pushed on the babies and the preschool set as well. Because little Dolly looks so "Cute!!!" in that little bikini with the ruffled bottom or the sequined strapless gown on the four year old with the 25 year old made up face.

 True, there is more to girls than the clothes covering her body or how she acts in public. But. While I think it's great (up to a point) that young ladies are taught that they are beautiful (they all are. Every. Last. One.) and they should be free to express themselves in the way they dress and how they conduct themselves in private as well as public, I think a huge piece of the puzzle is missing: Self Respect. And with it, Self Esteem.

Years ago, when Miley was a rising Disney star, her father, Billy Ray Cyrus, had concerns that his daughter not turn out like another Britney. Fast forward to the present. I do not know his reaction to his daughter's sex act onstage in front of the world (that's what it was, folks. Plain and simple). No one bothered mentioning him. Her mother however, stood up and applauded. Applauded! Had she been my daughter I would have stood up as well --and marched up onto the stage to yank the little princess backstage. I don't care that she's 20 years old now. And i would have wondered about myself: Did I teach her as well as I could have? Did I tell her "no" when she needed to hear it and stand firm on that no? And a million other questions. I'm not totally laying the blame on Miley's parents. Like most of us, I'm sure they did the best they could in teaching her and did what they thought was best. Hollywood, the rest of the media, and Miley herself have their share of responsibility as well.  And while the focus is on Ms. Cyrus lately, she isn't the only one who thinks that exploiting her own body is the way to get attention and sell music. Lady Gaga, Madonna, Katy Perry, and even Taylor Swift has abandoned her sweet, romantic persona for angry and sexy. 

So what are we as parents, aunts, mentors and friends supposed to do in order to combat this era of women being seen only as a thing to be used and tossed aside?

• Pray. Pray for our children, both male and female, from the moment they are conceived and continually thereafter.
• Take them to Church.  Raise them up in the church. Teach them from Day One about the love of God, and Jesus who died for all our sins. Fill them with the Word.
• Be a Role Model.  If they see how important our Heavenly Father is to you, and how you handle yourself in and out of public, they will pay attention. On the other hand, if you say that Gaga's outfits are outlandish and yet your skirts are a little too tight or too short, they notice that as well. True they have to make up their own minds, but the more positive influence that kids and even young adults have in their lives, the harder it is for Satan and his Hollywood influence to poison them.
• Teach them that self love does not equate to self degradation or the degradation of others. The world is teaching our girls that in short, they are nothing but a sex object. Or that they should be. Objects are things to be used and discarded when no longer deemed useful. We should be combating the very idea that girls need to show a lot of skin or act in a lascivious manner in order to be noticed and loved. Modesty in both dress and action should be lauded. Unfortunately, girls are taught that it's okay to have sex at a young age, and society praises them for it. When they do have sex, the boy gets what he wants and discards her for another conquest when he's tired of it or she gets pregnant. Once pregnant she must either decide to give the baby up for adoption, raise the baby herself (often but not always with the help of family) or she is convinced to abort the child. In each case, she must grow up all too quickly. Our boys should be taught as well that women are not to be treated as sex objects to be used and abused. Respect needs to be taught on both sides of that fence.
• Tell them NO. And stick by that. It is not the end of the world if a child misses out on a party or an outfit or whatever. They will live. Even teens need boundaries. Will they continue to push them? Yup. Will they be defiant at times and do or buy what they want anyway? You bet. And hopefully you handle it, not by giving in, but through discussion, discipline, and consistency.
• Educate them.  Not just ABCs and 1+1+2, although a good well rounded education in which they are taught how to think and reason for themselves and not just spitting back answers so that exams can be passed, is a very good thing to have. Teach them how to care for themselves. Teach the girls as well as the boys how to change a tire, how to do minor repairs around the house, how to find the North star. Teach them that they are very valuable, and that valuable things should not be given so cheaply.  Teach them that they should strive to be healthy, not skinny enough to fit society's standard of the day.  Teach them to honor God and to pursue their goals. Sadly this has to be the case, but also teach them that their are wolves out there who want nothing more than to hurt them in some way, and also teach them how to protect themselves from it. There are many sweet, loving, kind people out there, including men and boys, but girls need to know the signs of those who would only abuse them.
• And finally, Be there for them.  If you are the parent, aunt, mentor, or other woman of authority, that is your first responsibility. Being their friend can be part of that, but they need a Mama first. Guide them. Teach them. Be available. I know it isn't easy sometimes, but find the balance between standing firm and being approachable so they can come to you to talk. About anything. Some conversations are going to be hard, for both of you, but this is very important to keep the lines of communication open.

I stated earlier that I was both angry and saddened at Miley's actions that night. And I still am. I'm both heartbroken and furious that this child thinks that the way to acceptance and popularity and adulthood is this type of behavior. I'm outraged and upset that the media and society at large thinks this is "liberating" for women and a good thing, and I'm disgusted that there are those who think it's better to let a child do what she wants than to "Judge." 
    I'm not naive enough to think that if everyone followed scripture and my suggestions the whole world will be rosy and happy and all young ladies will dress and act modestly and all young men will be respectful. There is a thing that we all possess, called "Free Will," given to us by our Creator. We can be taught what is good, what is noble, what is lovely, but we are able to choose for ourselves whether we do right or wrong. We seem to have gotten that lesson loud and clear here in this country. What I fear we've neglected is that with free will comes responsibility and consequence. Instead of consequence, we tend to hide our heads in the sand or pass the buck. And this is where we have failed young Miley and those who are heading down that same path.  

 It's not too late for Miley or all the others to be taught. Or maybe she was and just chose not to listen. I don't know. But its still not too late.

The (Not So Secret) LIfe of J

It's nearly 8 in the morning and I'm up and dressed. Bleary eyed, wanting to crawl back into bed, but I'm up. And J? That not so little turkey is back in bed for his morning nap. And I'm...writing. Because I can. And because my brain said forget it, honey, sleep ain't happening just yet.

I have no idea what time J woke up. The closest I can pinpoint it is between 3 and 5 AM. Unless my laptop is open, time means nothing to me in the dark hours of the morning. We do have a clock/radio but since no one needs to be up at a certain time in the morning, no one bothered to set it the last time a storm knocked the power out. But anyway.  Have I ever told you I'm a morning person? Yeah well, that only applies if "morning" begins at seven AM. 6:30 tops. Earlier than that and I'll look you straight in the eye and tell you it's night time.  The Hubs is a night owl. His work schedule is awesome for him because he's ready to go to bed right about the time I'm getting up to face the day. He usually stays up long enough for breakfast and for us to haggle over his wake up call. 

And J? J is a super night owl. He goes to bed anywhere between 9 and ten in the evening (later if we don't have melatonin in the house). You'd think this would be my cue to hit the sheets as well. Wrong! Well, I toddle off to bed about that time, but my nose is usually buried in a book, Pinterest, or a Murder, She Wrote rerun or two. That's my time to relax and enjoy. By midnight I'm fast asleep. If I'm lucky, so is J. And then... somewhere around three in the morning... J's internal alarm clock goes off and he's wide awake, bouncing off the walls declaring he's hungry (read:BORED!!)

My sleep fogged brain at this point barely registers anything. I open a blood shot eye and squint out the window. Still dark. That means night, folks. So I do what any good parent would do: holler "It's night time! Go to bed!" and pull the the covers over my shoulder and try to get back to sleep. 

Yeah, that lasts about five minutes. Ten if I'm lucky. For the next hour or so it's pretty much lather, rinse, repeat-- oh wait. It's more like bounce, shriek, loud holler, pull the covers up, repeat. It's a small house. His bedroom is right next to mine.  Eventually though, my brain sends signals to the rest of my body that I do in fact have movement in arms and legs --despite the three kitten pileup on my chest and arm. This same brain reminds me that during this back and forth exchange, J is anywhere but in bed. If we had a chandelier, especially one that could hold his weight, he'd be swinging on it. Seriously.
  
While I'm still fighting to remember I'm the Mama and responsible for Baby Bear, he's taking the first of many showers of the day; foraging for snacks in the cabinets (the fridge is locked 98% of the time at night so he can't get into that unless we forget); deciding that no one needs the lemon juice left out on the counter-- down the drain it goes.  So finally my brain gets this message to the rest of me and I'm up. I stumble into the kitchen, fix him a snack and we have a sleep deprived conversation. Eventually one of two things happens: he decides his nightly/early morning job is done and he goes back to bed, or Dad gets home from work and I slink off for an early morning nap. 

Good morning, y'all. See you in an hour or two. Mama needs a nap.

The Salt of the Earth, Or is the World Salting Me?

Admittedly, I don't get to "go to church" each week as I'd like to. Things like living too far away to ask for a ride, not yet renewing my drivers license, and my husband's schedule making him need sleep come in the way, as well as some other things that pop up now and then. But this past Sunday evening my family was in attendance. Because our minister was out of town due to a death in the family, one of the elders delivered the message. He spoke on being the salt of the earth (Matthew 5:13). While I am sad to say that I can't remember all of what Louis spoke about, one statement stuck with me: "I sometimes wonder if I'm just a good person who got wet" (referring to baptism). He mentioned that he reads his bible, teaches classes, and does some preaching, but he likes to do those things. It gave me pause. If an elder of the church struggles with Christianity and whether he is on the right path, then I'm not alone. Am I following Christ, or did I just get wet? I think it is entirely too easy to become complacent about our lives as Christians. At least, that is the case with me. How do I know if I am being the salt of the earth as Christ called us to be, or if the world is salting me?

The answer to that, at least in part, is reading the Word of God, earnest prayer, and careful self examination. But what I'd like to point out is a little bit of world creep that has found its way into the Church: Division.

We are to set ourselves apart to some extent while living in this world; to be in the the world but not of it (Romans 12:2). We see division in the world every day: racial, geographical, political stance. Even within the confines of political stances there is further division. The more divided people are, the more some like it. And it doesn't stop there. It's found its ways into the body of Christ. In speaking of a family who happens to be on television and mentioning that they are Christian, one sister sniffed, "Well, they're liberal Christians." 

Liberal Christians as opposed to conservative Christians. Does this mean that we don't hold the same basic beliefs? That we have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God? That Jesus was sent by God to live on this earth as an example and to die as a sacrifice for our sins? That in order to become a Christian I must repent and be baptized for the remission of my sins? And afterwards we are to continue striving to be more like Christ each day, continually learning, continually teaching? If we believe these basic facts from the bible, then there should be no division among us. 

I know that there are things that some of us wont agree on at the same time. I still consider myself a fairly young Christian and still have much to learn. But I do know that some things I think are okay may cause another to stumble, so if I know that a brother or sister considers my action or speech a stumbling block, I need to be careful of that around him or her. I also need to look more closely at what I am doing or saying. Sometimes its a matter of opinion, sometimes its a matter of teaching. In either case, if we separate ourselves from a person or group of persons without at least trying to communicate, we aren't being salt. 

What is salt after all? It's a preservative, it's a flavor enhancer. If it's sitting to the side in its own box or shaker, it's doing neither of these things and is at that point worthless.  Am I the salt of the earth, or am I simply a good person who got wet?

Bertha Betternyou: Concerned Sister or Outright Gossip?

If you have ever listened to Ray Stevens' music from the 1980's, chances are you know who Bertha Betternyou is. Sadly, for many outside the church, Bertha is the go to gal when summoning an image of a typical Christian. Sister Bertha sits all prim and proper, can quote scripture all day long and knows the secrets of many around her. Turns out though, that Bertha has a few sins of her own.

Photo credit: Photobucket

Do you remember the parable of the Pharisee and the publican (tax collector)? It's found in Luke 18:9-14. In short, both men went to the temple to pray. The Pharisee was boastful in his prayer: He wasn't like others, especially like that publican over there. He even reminded God and anyone who might be in earshot that he tithed, fasted, and otherwise outshone others. To put it bluntly, meet Bertha's Brother Benjamin. 

The publican, on the other hand, wouldn't even look up. Instead he smote his breast and said "Lord forgive me, a sinner."

The ultimate goal of a Christian is to become more Christlike. From the moment we obey the gospel and step out of the watery grave of baptism, we are a new person. From then on we continually try to walk in Jesus' foot steps and teach others along the way, by word and deed. Sometimes though, in our zeal to be Christlike, we look around at others... and become a little more like Bertha than we would really like to be. 

Brother Tom thinks its okay to have an occasional glass of wine. Sister Colleen and her kids use the curse word knock offs (dang, heck, crap, you get the picture). And did you see how short the Davies' daughter's skirt was? And with him a shepherd of the church! Honestly, you'd think they'd have taught that girl better.  Wait. Why are we discussing their sins or shortcomings as though we have none of our own? 
  
First of all, if any of us, and this includes me, has a concern about a brother or sister's behavior, words or whatever, we are instructed to go to the person privately and in love (Matthew 18:15-17). Those verses tell us exactly how we are to handle a problem, so why do so many of us think its our duty to discuss the situation with others first?

It shouldn't matter who the brother or sister is, whether he be an elder, or she the preacher's wife, or if the person happens to be a celebrity of sorts. I know if I am wrong, I want someone to come talk to me privately first. I may cry or otherwise get upset, but I will be okay with it. As well meaning as others are who are concerned, I can't make it to heaven on someone's coat tail. If it's my behavior that needs to change, I'm the one who needs to be spoken to first.  If you can't speak to me in person, write me a letter. In other words, we should be building up one another, not tearing each other down with our concern. I for one have to change this habit.

Confessions of a Disorganized Housewife: The Fridge Vs The Respect Dare

Have you ever put off doing a job because  it was just. so. daunting. that it made you exhausted just thinking about it? And then once you decided to bite the bullet and get it done you felt a huge sense of accomplishment? Yeah, that's me right now.

Next to cleaning the bathroom (which is my husband's job, simply because I'm a wimp and he adores me anyway), cleaning out the abyss  the fridge is my most dreaded task. So I put it off. For way longer than I really should. My philosophy is cram the stuff in there and shut the door quickly. Not a good path to follow, in case you're wondering. 

I do have my reasons. In my head I'm very organized. Every little thing in its place. In reality, ehh, not so much. The fridge is old and needs to be replaced. And it will be. Eventually. So I shove everything in there from fresh produce to meat to leftovers... and then cringe when there is no more room and Weird Al is in my kitchen singing to me.

Frightening, huh? 

Well, this week I read Dare 13 of the Respect Dare. You can learn more about that by visiting Unbroken Woman. I'm at least a week behind everyone else but for now, that's okay with me. Anyway, part of the dare was to ask your husband to name one thing you can do for him that would help him out. My husband just happened to be out of town but I could pretty much guess what he would say: Clean the kitchen. So for the past two days (don't judge) I've been working on that. Today I tackled the dreaded fridge. 
   Hubby is home now. While I cleaned and organized the fridge and did dishes, he sat and played a computer game. Did that irk me? You bet! At first. You probably know some of the thoughts: Why am I the only one up cleaning? (He cooked breakfast) You'd think he'd feel some compunction to get up and clean some too. (He worked all night and this is the first day of his weekend). Blah blah blah. 

But you know what? It's all okay. I'm sure an exasperated sigh (or ten, but who's counting?) came out of me today. But I didn't yell. I didn't disrespect him by berating him. I let him do his thing while I did mine. And he did help. He took care of part of the job while I sat and relaxed for a minute or two. And at the end, he thanked me and told me how much he appreciated me doing that. 

The respect dare is not easy. There will be times you feel like giving up because it's not really making a difference. But if you get the book and read on your own or follow Unbroken Woman , I encourage you to see it through to the end. I intend to. It is worth it. Whether Hubby says anything or not, I'm seeing changes in my own spirit, and changes that I'd like to see happen. Not so much because they would make my husband happy, but because I feel that my attitude and my actions would be more pleasing to God. The respect dare isn't all about fetching the paper and his slippers each evening. It's about showing your partner in life the respect and love that he needs, and also (more importantly) respecting God's wishes. 

While it helps that Hubby thanked me for cleaning the fridge,  and that does help, believe me, it's not all about what do I get out of all this. I get a sense of accomplishment, I get less frustration in preparing meals and snacks. The important part is what I put into this relationship. Love. Honor. Respect.

Morning Has Broken

Actually, morning broke about two hours or so ago --5 AM. I'm a morning person, but in my book, morning should ideally begin at 7 AM. At the earliest,  6:30. I could possibly stand 6 if I had to. In my world however, I have a son who has come to believe that anywhere between 2 AM and 5 AM is the optimum time to start the day. And the cats agree with him.

I wake up, deal with the morning ablutions and I am followed by the pitter patter of little feet. Feline feet carrying kittens and a young adult who wonder why their human would prefer they didn't follow her into that one particular room in the house. After all, it's din din time. She's up, so it must be din din time! They are on the brink of starvation after not having eaten for three years! Okay, so its only been since last night but hey, who cares. Food is of the utmost importance for a cat.

The two factions in the house, cat and child, tolerate each other at best and avoid each other completely at worst. I think that it's all a scam, that avoidance. Sometime around midnight or so I think they get together and plot. Their objective? Food. At the most unreasonable time of morning. The Bottomless Pit and the Feline Mafia work together to achieve this goal. Get her up by any means possible: Belching. Rattling around in the kitchen. Singing. A tail in the face. A furry weight on the chest. Incessant mewing.  And so the day begins. The two warring sides, sated, go back to their wary acknowledgement of the enemy and continue with their day. 

Why I Love Books A Million: A Lesson in Compassion , Professionalism, and Just Plain Niceness

Okay, so my secret is out. I love love looooovvvveeee Books A Million. Absolutely adore it. More specifically, I love the Statesboro, Ga branch. More importantly, I really like the staff. 


I'm a nerd, I'll freely admit. An old school nerd at that. I don't own an e-reader of any type. Yet. Eventually I'm sure one will become mine, and that's cool. But I love (there's that word again. Gracious, how many times is this woman gonna say that word??) real books. The feel, the touch, the smell, all of it. I feel that no home is complete without a wall or two of books. 

But you didn't stop here to hear me wax poetic about paper versus digital. After all, I did mention that the staff is the best part about the store. You see, whether we get to buy anything or not, we like going to BAM to browse and hang out a little sometimes. These trips to the store also include J, who does not share his parents adoration of books, magazines, and such. He is there to eat. He's there to people watch. He's there because he has no choice in the matter. 
  
Most of the time he does well, sitting and waiting until he's bored hopelessly out of his mind and reminds the two bibliophiles he was born to that it's time to go. Loudly. We've been to that particular branch enough times that they recognize us and know that J has autism. Bless their hearts, they are always nice and polite, and have never kicked us out. (We do that ourselves.) Even when J has an accident, it's taken care of quickly and without much fuss, by the staff or us.

 The other day we happened to be in town for a meeting I had. We were at least an hour early so we decided to go to the bookstore.  J did well at first, but he became a little uncomfortable --and loud. He wasn't screaming, just doing his belching noise now and then and moving around a lot. When I noticed the problem,  Dad took J to take care of it and I went in search of a worker. I came up to one just as an older gentleman flagged him down to advise him that "there is a man back there by the exit sign with either a mental or psychological problem." Yes, that is exactly what he said. The young man nodded and moved on. I smiled at the young man with the older gent near enough and said "Yup, it's my son. He  has autism." He assured me there was no problem (the young man, not the other gentleman). I gave him a heads up on the wet chair and he took care of it without a gripe or a fuss. Simple fix of taking out what was wet and bringing in clean chairs from the break room. That was it. He simply did his job and assured me that all was okay. 

 Sadly, in other stores I have seen workers and clients alike frown and make rude comments when J was just being J. Not being obnoxious or loud necessarily, but just flapping his hands or giggling or whatever. Never have I run into this at BAM. Ever. I've had a customer a time or two suggest that I need to "check on him" (he's never unattended because J is usually within eyesight of his Dad if not me). The hubs has had a few strike up conversations with him about autism and even vaccines. It's definitely a family friendly place.

Even in this day and age there are still people though, who believe that kids and adults like J should not be out in public. They don't understand autism, they do not wish to understand (my opinion, although I could be wrong about some), and they do not like having to see or hear anything or anyone that upsets them. J doesn't belong at home all the time, nor does he belong in a home or institution. He's a human being! Part of our teaching him (and this is ongoing) is how to handle himself in public settings. He won't learn that holed up away from others. At the same time, I believe he's teaching others compassion, understanding, and manners. Or at least he could if people would just pay attention instead of frowning and running away. 

So what does my mini rant about rude people have to do with Books A Million?  Not much really, except a lesson in compassion for others, professionalism, and common courtesy. While I think the older gentleman who warned about "the man with mental or psychological problems" handled it as best he could, it's still hurtful and maybe he could have handled it differently. Maybe next time he encounters a person like J he will not be so quick to judge. Or maybe he will choose his words a bit more wisely, especially if someone else is standing nearby. I can only hope.