Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

To the Mom Shaming Your Kid on Facebook

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I fell asleep last night with peace in my heart and a bit of pride for the fact that my son was smiling as he kissed me goodnight, even though he had been crying when we first laid down to say our bedtime prayers. I mean, I knew the Holy Spirit had a lot to do with his change in demeanor, especially following our heartfelt intercession, but yeah, a lot of me felt good for myself too. I felt like a good mom. Which was awesome, since I feel like I fail at it on the daily!

A large majority of the commentary you’ll see about parenting teens and preteens champions tough love. It states that kids today need to toughen up, that they need more discipline, and that they need to face the harsh realities of this world so they can be high-functioning, productive adults. I get it. I am a Gen-X’er, after all. A latch key kid. The generation that had zero hand-holding while we transversed the neighborhood or woods without supervision. I’m tough! I also thank God I’m alive when I think back at the stupid stuff I did that almost got me killed, that my parents were clueless about. But alas, this isn’t a blog about the pros and/or cons of helicopter parenting. It’s about being a good parent. So what is that exactly?

Yes, it’s disciple. It’s teaching your children to respect authority, to listen, and to learn from their mistakes. To work hard earn their reward. It’s provision and meeting their physical needs. Yet, it’s so much more. If I had to sum it up with one word it would be pretty easy. I’d base it upon the best role model father I know. God, My Father. So, who is God?

God is so many attributes rolled into one, but the one that stands out to me as His daughter is love. And that’s what I thought of last night after holding my twelve year old.

The Lord said, “it matters to you because it matters to him. That’s how I love you.”

My son had been working for days on a digital art project, and as he neared completion his program screamed for more storage capacity. In a rush to delete the unwanted stuff and make room, he accidentally deleted his project. He had not saved it. It was gone forever. Even The Cloud couldn’t help. He tried to put on a brave face, but I could tell he was disappointed to have lost all that time and effort because of a mistake.

I was at a crossroads. I could say, “I bet you learned your lesson about hitting save!”

I could state what was obvious to me. “It’s just a drawing. Get over it! Do another!”

Or, I could walk in the fruits of the Spirit, the model my Father in Heaven gave through His Son. Patience, kindness, gentleness, love. I could allow him to cry, to let it out. I could hold him, listen, offer advice, and love him through the disappointment that was a big deal to him at the time.

Or, I could post a picture of him crying and upload it to Facebook, I talking about how this generation needs to grow a backbone, learn responsibility, and work hard for the things they want!

Maybe I’m being a little over the top with my particular scenario, but sadly I see pretty similar stuff a bit too often for my taste. I see it over and over, these posts where a mom shames their child publicly on social media, toting the virtues of making your kid learn the hard way. I just don’t believe that’s the way.

A majority of the time it is parents who claim Christianity as a basis of their life that are the promoters of tough love, but I don’t see that Christ walked that way. God certainly isn’t up there punishing us for our missteps. He allows us to fall to the consequences of our own stupid actions, but He never puts us to shame. That’s the other guy. He’s the one who forgives us, the Dad who picks us up, kisses the booboo, and holds us tight, counting our tears. He’s the one who took all our mistakes on His own back, paying for them in blood, and certainly didn’t put ‘em up on a sign in the public square to get likes and shares from the angels.

When your child messes up, you can lovingly guide them to the truth, the consequences of their actions, and the way back to the goal at hand, or you can let them learn their lesson on their own. Sadly, years down the road, the lesson they may have learned is a skewed version of what a father/mother should be. They’ll carry that version into many aspects of their life, such as how they see the Father Heart of God, how they parent themselves, and how they deal with shame and self-doubt when they fail as an adult.

I want my children to learn grace! I want them to know loving kindness, compassion, mercy, and confidence that they can move forward in imperfection, growing as they go. They can learn from mistakes (because they will, without an “I told you so”), but not feel like those mistakes define them. But most of all, I want to model the love I see in Him. And I just don’t think social media shaming is it.

The Offense of Being Offended as a Christian

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Have you ever been forced to be around someone you don’t like? If you’re a responsible adult, in a work setting, then the answer is probably yes. You can break off an abusive, long term relationship, ignore your in-laws, or cut ties with a toxic friend, but leaving a great job because of an annoying coworker isn’t always economically feasible, and I’ve found myself in this situation lately.

Have you ever been so irked by an itchy personality that you imagine yourself throttling that person? I know, not very Christ-like, but let’s be honest; we’ve all been there once or twice. Some people can just be so different from us, and it’s like they know all the wrong buttons to push! This was what happened to me.

This lady was so prideful. I remember Southern ladies describing it as, “she thinks her sh*t don’t stink.” And that seemed like a pretty good description of this situation. The woman I’m referring to thought she was always right, everyone else was always wrong, and her way of doing things was the only way. It doesn’t make for a conducive workspace.

One morning, I had just sat down booting up my computer with another scheduled, early-arriving coworker, when she walked in. She wasn’t supposed to arrive for another hour! I thought I had time to drink my coffee and get my heart and mind in the right place for her abrasive personality, yet there she was.

“What are you doing here so early?” I asked, even as my mind wondered if she was just checking to make sure we came to work on time in an environment without a time clock to keep us honest.

And so it began. She started droning on about the changes she was instituting for the workplace (as the most senior person in our office), and about all the things we were all doing wrong that she could improve upon.

Y’all, it flew all over me. I had spent the past couple of days she’d been off cleaning up her messes and mistakes! My work-plate had been overflowing thanks to her missed steps, and it made my blood want to boil at her audacity to suggest anyone else was the problem!

The thing was, I wasn’t the only one! Everyone in the office felt the same as me. They were fed up with her constant slacking of job duties, but even more so with her attitude that suggested otherwise. Grrr. It made us all crazy. In fact, when she wasn’t around we talked about how insane she made us all feel. We laughed at her expense, and made jokes about her holier-than-though attitude. It somehow made me feel better, you know?

After a full day of hard work, also filled with plenty of gossip about my troublesome coworker, I drove home and started feeling conviction. I knew it wasn’t right. Not any of it. Not my anger, not my judgement. I shouldn’t be making jokes at her expense, ridiculing her behavior with others, or gossiping period. I confessed of my behavior and asked the Lord to change my heart. Man, it is so easy to fall into sin, and fall away from the heart of God! I asked Him to give me His heart towards this problematic coworker, to help me see her with His eyes. That’s a tough sale, guys, cause when you do that, you no longer want to dislike a person for their erroneous behavior; you want to embrace them in their brokenness. Have you ever realized we’re all the same in that we’re not yet whole?

The next time I worked with this person, it was great! I told my husband it had to be the Holy Spirit. I usually grew angry at her pride and easily offended when her comments suggested I was less of a good worker than she. Because really, isn’t that what these situations really come down to most of the time? Personal offense? But on this day, I took no offense, and we got along swimmingly. I left the office lighter, in a better mood, because instead of feeling angry, I felt peace.

Have you ever noticed how off your behavior is when you’re angry? It’s the opposite of the fruits of the spirit. Instead of peace, we feel unease. Instead of joy, we feel rage. Instead of patience, we feel frustration. Instead of kindness, we feel vengeance. And most importantly, instead of love, we feel the opposite! If God is love, what is the opposite of love? Well, I can tell you, it’s not of God.

The thing is, many times when we feel offended, it’s selfishness. Instead of service, like Jesus modeled, we have placed ourselves to be served. By assuming our desires, opinions, or even our life, are more important than a brother/sister, we are elevating ourselves, which never pans out well in the Kingdom of God. In the Kingdom way, we are asked by Jesus to lay down our lives, to take up His cross, and to put on His yoke. Cause, you see, any other yoke is one of slavery. Slavery to anger, pride, selfish action, and again, the opposite of God’s essence, love. It turns out, His yoke, His way, is easy. That’s why after being a slave to offense, we feel terrible, but after being a slave (servant) to love, we feel amazing. I don’t think we always realize why we’re feeling so bad. We think it’s because of other people’s actions, but I would suggest, perhaps it’s our own hearts causing us harm.

When that person passes you in traffic haphazardly or cuts you in line! Arghh!

Remember justice is His. He will lift you up. Ask yourself these heart questions. What makes our time more valuable than that of another? What ranking does this particular offense hold in light of eternity? Does our response negatively affect our heart, and does it display the light of the One we claim to love? Are we reflecting Jesus to a lost and hurting world? This is something I desire more than anything.

When someone disagrees with something that is very important to us, it’s hard. When someone maliciously hurts us, it’s even harder. It’s crazy hard to lay down the desire to be right, the desire to be vindicated, and the desire to be esteemed, but as a Christian, that is what we are called to. We are asked to humble ourselves, to lay down our swords, and to serve in love. I still find myself in this crazy world, getting offended, but I try to not let that offense rule me, define me, or steer my actions. I’ve found that the true offense to being offended isn’t against the one I perceive as the offender, but rather it ends up being an offense to my own heart and the spirit God has given me. And who wants that!

The Day I Got Flipped Off

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I’m not one to run to social media or pen an angry blog post every time someone looks at me sideways, but the thing is, I’ve seen so much of this lately, that I thought it was worth mentioning. I’ll bet as you read my words you’ll probably be able to relate, and I reckon the biggest question you will need to ask yourself is, which car are you driving?

Last week I was sitting at a red light. As the light turned green I placed my foot on the accelerator and moved forward. Obvious, right? I’m not trying to give driving lessons, but rather explaining in detail my actions. When the light turned green, I went. I didn’t delay. I wasn’t distracted or on my phone. I went forward. The problem for the driver behind me was I obviously didn’t move forward fast enough.

I’ll add another observation at this point. I recall as I moved forward the van next to me also moved forward. At the same rate of speed. Like, neck and neck. I mention this so you’ll understand that I accelerated forward at an average, anticipated speed. I wasn’t going overly slow or even “driving like a granny.” Yet, he honked.

Ahhh, the ever-present horn. Do you know how often people honk their horns in Florida? Like, it’s ridiculous. We’re in the land of sunshine. The place where everyone else comes to vacation. People leave their hectic, fast-paced lives to come to the beach and relax. Yet here we are. Driving 120mph down the interstate, blaring our horn when someone goes under 80, and flipping them off if they don’t gun-it at the red light.

That’s right. The guy flipped me off. After honking at me, for going on green, he passes me and pulls up alongside me to cuss me out through his open window. You know, in case I thought the loud, horn blare was an accident. Then he extended his middle finger my way with an angry glare, before speeding ahead in a dust cloud of angst.

Wanna hear the absolute best part? In approximately half a mile he turns right into a neighborhood. Yep, you heard it right, folks. All that rage, all that effort to show me he was pissed off, and all that frantic hurrying to turn into a neighborhood just ahead. Look, I’ll give the guy the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was going home to a sick kid. Perhaps he was having a really bad day. Perhaps.

The problem is, this isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve been cussed out before. I’ve been flipped off, thrown a hateful stare. I wish I had a dollar for every horn that’s been honked my way. But I really, really don’t think I’m an overly cautious, extremely slow driver. I’ll tell you a secret… I even go over the speed limit. Quite frequently. All that to say, my receiving of road rage has less to do with my driving behavior than it does with human behavior. We currently live in a country with their hand on the horn, at the ready, to blare angrily at anyone in their path. This doesn’t just apply to driving.

Let’s admit a few things about our society. One, people are in a hurry. All the time, and way too much. They’re rushed, harried, and typically hurried over-proportionally to the need. Gonna be late for work? Try leaving earlier. Since when did we value clocking in on time over being a decent human being?

Secondly, people are angry, man. They are stressed out and short-fused. And nine times out of ten, we’re mad about stuff that doesn’t even matter! Like, what makes a person so angry that someone is not driving fast enough that they feel it necessary to curse and throw demeaning gestures? Why?

What about this? We’re selfish. Seriously, we are. Something happens in our brains lately that says, “my time is more important. This inconveniences me. I need to be first.”

Someone pulls out in front of you. Oops. It was a mistake. But rage overtakes you. “How dare you slow me down! This is so much of a bump in my very important day that I’m going to show you my anger and let you know what a moron I think you are!”

Grace? Never heard of it.

Patience? What’s that?

Kindness? Is that a new, loaded-tea flavor?!

No, sir. We won’t count to ten, much less three. We will lash out, burn with rage, and speed ahead to life’s next red light. All in the name of gaining five seconds in this race of existence. We’ll step on anyone who dares to get in our way, and you better like it!

My seventy-one year old aunt lives here too, and I’ve noticed she goes to her favorite, familiar stores and restaurants, but that’s it. She doesn’t venture out to areas she doesn’t know. Why? She doesn’t feel like getting honked at and cussed out for slowly down to find her turn. Heck, I got honked at one day in a busy section of downtown for slowing down to turn right in a pothole-laden parking lot. I drive a low-riding sedan and didn’t want to harm my vehicle. Yet that didn’t occur to the angry driver behind me. Their concern wasn’t another person’s vehicle; their concern was their time. Even as they got stopped at probably a dozen red lights before reaching their destination.

After my encounter with the man in the pickup last week who flipped me off, I told my husband, “that guy is gonna have a heart attack!”

His face was red, he was so angry, and for what? In this life we stress out over so many things that don’t matter, and we neglect so many things that do. We get mad at a delayed schedule, but we ignore someone in need. We get red, hot raging over our food taking too long at the drive-thru, but we forget to show kindness to the girl at the window who has done nothing wrong. We fret over our own personal inconvenience, and we neglect the act of love. Sure, we love our kids and maybe even our spouse, but what about the stranger who might just need it the most? I know it sounds like sugary sentiment, but it’s true. The very person you’re honking at could be one step away from giving up on life, and your kindness and grace may be the thing that tips them back in the right direction.

Earlier I mentioned my road-rage scenario might sound familiar to you, the reader, and I encouraged you to ask yourself a question. So, which car are you in? Are you the one throwing rage instead of patience? Or will you be the person on this road of life who shows some love and kindness instead? Maybe it’s not to late to change our course.

The Waiting Season

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I sat on the sofa sipping my morning coffee, fuzzy blanket pulled up snugly, the warmth from the heater turned up full blast, and I gazed out the window while I prayed. A veil of melancholy hung on my shoulders, certainly lighter than the colorful throw on my lap, but there nonetheless. Waiting was hard. It discouraged you, made you feel uncertain, powerless to change your situation. The waiting. That’s why I felt like I did. As I gazed towards the overcast sky, that certainly mirrored my mood, I saw the top of the tree outside my living room. It had buds.

New growth, I thought.

The Holy Spirit whispered, “you are entering a new growth season.”

The weather couldn’t make up its mind, you know? Warm, cool, hot, cold. All of the above. Shorts one day and a toboggan the next had tricked my tree into thinking it was spring. I could certainly relate. Promises of wonderful things ahead can come, just over the horizon, a glimpse you see. Warm, shining on your face, the hope of radiant light and a more agreeable season. But then it slips out of sight.

You realize you’re in the waiting season.

Waiting for that joyful warmth on your face.

Almost. Not yet.

You open your emotions to the coming of it. Anticipation blooms. Then nothing.

You’re in the waiting season.

Waiting for spring, waiting for the light, waiting for a lifeline, for answers, for solutions, for next steps, for guidance, direction, the answer to urgently whispered prayers.

A most peculiar thing happens in the waiting places. You grow. Your endurance, your strength, your dependence on Jesus, your faith. They all grow. You bloom. In the waiting season you enter into a new growth season too, reaching levels in your relationship with the Lord you never knew possible. Hope springs, and joy comes in the morning. It also comes in the waiting places.

God says, “I am taking you to new heights with me. I am growing you to be the one I always knew you could be, to do the things I have always had planned for you.”

Your waiting season is also a new growth season.

In your waiting, God can open doors no man can shut.

Isaiah 43:19

See, I am doing a new thing!

    Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?

I am making a way in the wilderness

    and streams in the wasteland.

I looked up at the new buds ready to burst forth on the tree outside my window. Waiting was hard, but I was grateful for it. Waiting changes you. It strengthens you. It makes you new. I looked down at the dead leaves on the ground. Remnants of last season, blowing away in the wind even as I watched. In a waiting season the old you dies, it falls away, and Jesus brings new growth.

I’m in a waiting season. I am in a season of new growth. Hallelujah. I am grateful. I am growing. I am being made new.

When God Has You in a Waiting Place

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If you’re living and breathing then you will likely at some point or another find yourself in a waiting place. Perhaps you’re there now. But did you know God had you there? After all, He is the one who placed the desire in your heart for that long awaited station you cannot seem to get to quick enough. We all know that God’s timing is perfect. We’ve heard it a billion times! But it doesn’t make the attitude of waiting any easier, does it? Waiting still stinks.

I’ve found myself in a waiting place lately. On one hand, I’ve never felt such peace. To have a calling, or a dream, and to have that excitement is refreshing. It’s like, if I can just get there, I’ll be good. So the waiting for something great is still better than feeling lackluster stuck in a situation that no longer brings you joy. Over time, though, that excitement builds (or perhaps threatens to dull), and you find the anticipation brings an impatient longing.

When, Lord? When will we get from Point A to Point B?!

So everyday you pray.

Please, Lord. Please get us there.

You pray from a place of faith always, but you also recognize it’s this pleading petition that borders on the brink of worry. It’s this repetitive prayer, that while persistent in a positive way, also sounds a little whiny even to you. Am I right? It kinda reminds you of the kids asking if it’s Christmas yet.

So what do you do when God has you in a waiting place, and you know that the waiting is good, but it’s still simply and honestly hard to wait?!

I’ve heard you surrender the situation, and I’ll bet you’ve probably heard that one too. You lay down the task of waiting, and you say, “God, I know you’re timing is perfect, so I’m laying it down to you.” But what exactly are we laying down?

Today my husband sent me a text of a prayer he was praying. Technology, right? We were joining together in prayer via text, and I wrote back to him my agreement with him, directed to the Lord. But one phrase in his text really stuck out to me. Like, it might as well have been in bold letters.

He said, “I let go of any anticipation I have for where you’re taking my family.”

He mentioned letting go of control too, but that one other word really got me.

Anticipation

He was willing to let go of the one thing that made waiting easier! I mean, that’s what makes waiting bearable, right? The prize at the end. It’s like pregnancy and childbirth. Women can deal with the horrendous ordeal of it all because of the baby that comes at the end. Swollen feet, heartburn, and the ring of Fire in your nether region is minuscule when compared to a little life with your tiny, upturned nose. Anticipation for the end result made waiting seem not quite so bad, but my husband was giving that to God as well.

So I followed suit, and as I sat on my knees praying to the Lord I let go of even my excitement. After all, He was the one who placed it there. He placed the desire for a new dream in my heart. It was His. He placed a calling on the lives of His children, and if I was going to surrender the situation in its entirety then I even needed to give my heart’s desire into His hand. I let go of my anticipation, which can often times lead to a nervous, impatient energy, and simply rested in the truth of His word.

Jeremiah 29:11

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

Reason Number 1,859 That Nursing is a Challenge

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I was on my second day of a weekend rotation, and despite the typical chance of an uncertain assignment, I was pretty sure I knew what I was getting into that shift. Indeed I felt confident I’d receive the same patients back that I had taken care of the day before, and since they were good ones I was pretty stoked. I mean, although you never know what can happen in a hospital setting, and feces can hit the fan pretty unexpectedly and quickly, getting the people back that you already knew about had a warm, welcome familiarity to it. Easy peasy, right?

Anyway, I was happy that Sunday to learn that I would be taking care of the same patient load, and I glided confidently with my cup of joe to my awaiting assignment. I smiled sweetly through the clear glass at the elderly woman in the hospital bed as I listened to the night nurse’s off-going report, and I nodded with contentment that no negative change had occurred in her condition over the last twelve hours. She was so darn sweet, after all, and it was good to know she was on the road to recovery. 

After report I drifted happily into her room, stethoscope around my neck, and a warm greeting on my lips. “How are you today, my dear?”

I anticipated a kind, grandmotherly response similar to the day before. After all, that day before she had astounded me with her strength, determination, and lack of complaint. She carried a diagnosis that made young men cry in pain, but she had only replied stoically when questioned, “it just hurts if I talk out loud.”

I suppose I had expected the same that following day, but upon my arrival instead of a smile I was greeted with a scowl. I watched all morning as the gentle, soft-spoken woman from the day before now yelled at her spouse, and cursed at the broken TV remote. It was like she was a completely different person, and while her choice of four-letter words shocked me, overall I wasn’t really surprised a bit. 

This was life in a hospital setting, and the transformation before me was as commonplace as elevated temperatures and beeping IVs. Other than maybe a POW camp, I couldn’t think of many places that had the ability to change a person’s personality so profoundly as that of a hospital bed. 

When faced with the stress of sickness, the pain of illness, and the uncertainty of failing health, most individuals became another person after a day or two in a hospital room. 

It’s true. No other setting can make a calm man become angry, a patient woman become intolerant, and a soft-spoken person suddenly burst into a sweltering rage. The act of sickness causes a sweet, little elderly lady to become a cursing, mean-as-a-snake, old woman, and being forced to stay in an uncomfortable hospital bed makes a gentle, compassionate man suddenly spew derogatory statements your way. 

So basically, as a nurse you are challenged with caring for people at their absolute worst. And not just physically. You are tasked with trying to soothe physical pain, but also mend a broken spirit. You are expected to act kindly and professionally to a population that hurls insult hastily and painfully, even as their daughter states flabbergasted, “Dad’s not normally like this at all!” 

There’s a whole lot of things that make the field of nursing a challenging one to perform, and number 1,859 is the patient’s ability to transform their personality on a dime. The perfect patient can become the perfect offense in a second. A kind man can become cruel, and a nice lady can become hateful. And none of it is your fault at all. 

So what do you do? For me, I knew that somewhere underneath that seething, volatile woman was the caring, but frustrated lady from before. She was tired, disappointed at her slow recovery, and most likely in pain, even as she tried to grin (or scowl) and bear it. So I treated her the same that day as the day before. Perhaps even better. 

Nursing is about treating illness, but it’s also about treating the person. Sometimes that involves treating a person who isn’t treating you well, and sometimes it’s about treating a person well who can’t reciprocate your care. No one wants to be sick, but when they are, they are. And sickness infects more than just the body. It infects the emotional well-being too. 

It’s not easy seeing people at their worst, but it’s worth it to know you’re getting them back to their best. For when the cantankerous old man is released back home he can love on his dog, and spoil his grandkids. My little lady would leave with her supportive, understanding (and thankfully for him, very hard-of-hearing) spouse. Her smile would return, and her strength would multiply in the face of all she endured while in my care. She would likely not remember me, or even the mood swings she experienced, but she would exist happy beyond my hospital’s walls. And because of my hospital’s walls. 

So again, in healthcare we bring out the worst in people, but through their perseverance and healing we eventually bring out their best. It’s just that trying part in between that’s the challenge, and it’s reason number 2,693 that nurses should be celebrated.