Multiple Moms

This was my childhood. The younger brother. The youngest cousin. And any family within five years of me was girl. I was bossed, bullied, tattled on, corralled, directed and disciplined.

I was also loved, deeply loved, by the females in my life. All older. All bossy. And all loving. This picture kind of explains it.

Kim, Jeffrey, Tina, Cindy and Jill

I’m sure that’s the reason I've written so much about women, why I care about their struggle with self image, why I’m concerned about sexual abuse of the most vulnerable, why the situation in Nigeria crushes me and why relationship is my highest value. 

We may get older, but our childhood travels with us. Sometimes it's like a warm coat on a cold day. Sometimes more like ill-fitting shoes. We can change our shoes, but it will always be a part of our story. 

I'm thankful for my childhood and the profound impact of my mom's life on me. I'm thankful for the impact of her sister, Pat, and the four girls in the picture, who felt it was their job to "mother" me. 

Moms come in all shapes, sizes and ages. Sometimes we're born to them, sometimes we find them and sometimes God brings them to us. What's certain is we all need at least one. Fortunately, I've had many. 

Emotional Junk Food

I like TV. I like movies too. I even like books. There’s something about a well written character that sucks me in. I can get so attached to them I miss them when the book goes back on the shelf.

I like geeky Leonard Hofstadter on The Big Bang Theory. I feel like I know him. I know his friends. His mom. His hang-ups and insecurities and even where they come from. I want him and Penny to stay together.

I realized yesterday, I know Leonard better than my neighbor.

Leonard makes me laugh, roll my eyes, worry and laugh some more. He feeds me emotionally. And all he requires is a half hour each week.

So I can have a “friendship” with Leonard, Patrick Jane, Tony Stark, Batman, Frodo and Harry Potter and it doesn’t cost me anything.

The problem is real relationships are expensive. They take time, energy, investment, commitment, forgiveness, grace, understanding and self-sacrifice. 

I can’t sit down with my neighbor, friend or coworker for a half hour each week just to be entertained. I have to give something back.

There’s nothing wrong with a good show, movie or book. Story has the ability to teach us in profound ways.

We just need to understand it’s relational junk food. There's nothing wrong with eating some chips, but if that's our substitute for real nourishment, we'll end up emotionally malnourished. 

Be Careful

I ride my motorcycle to work every chance I get. It’s little. My friend Nick says it looks like a “little kid’s bike.” Can't remember why he's my friend.

Even though it’s a “little kid’s bike” Nancy mandated some rules. I have to wear a helmet. I have to wear a riding jacket. She even bought me a backpack, so florescent yellow, you can see it from the moon. I’m supposed to wear that too.

And every time I leave the house she says, “Be careful.”

In fact, everyone says “Be careful.” Nick says it. Ron says it when I walk by his office to leave. My boss Pete. Pastor Greg says it. Heck, even the guy at the post office when I pick up mail.

There was a time in my life this would have really bothered me. Because of my bent, my youth, my insecurities and my tendency to read subtext into conversations, I would have hated it.

Be careful? What do you mean? Of course I’m careful. Do you think I can’t drive? Am I not capable enough? Responsible enough? Don’t you trust me?

One of the beauties of getting old is a lot of that stuff seems to fall away. There's so much less to prove, so I can hear the words for what they really mean. These people care about me.

Like "As You Wish" from the Princess Bride, what they are really saying is, "Love you!" Hearing it so often makes me think everyone should ride a motorcycle. Oh, and it reminds me why Nick is my friend.