Parenting | All is Well

Another Trip Around the Sun

September 23, 2022 By Shelly Durkee

There was a time years ago…and actually, several times in this odd history that is mine alone…where a year between birthdays felt magnificently long….

Where the years seemed to slowly plod by –

…sometimes because I was young and that’s just how it feels when you are young and have a false sense that you have all of the time in the world….

…sometimes because I was waiting – waiting to graduate from high school and leave home…waiting to graduate from college and embark on some supposedly life-fulling career…waiting for answers to hard questions…or even eagerly waiting five years ago to marry my guy, a tremendous gift of long-awaited grace from God that helped redeem years that the locusts had eaten (Joel 2:25-27)….

…sometimes the years seemed slow because I was a young with four smalls who called me momma (two of which are Irish Twins – that was definitely a long, perpetually pregnant year!) and who had so many needs that I felt so completely inadequate to fill…

…sometimes, the years seemed long because of very difficult things.

That is no longer the case.

No, today the time between each birthday seems but a moment.

I celebrated a birthday this week – don’t even ask me which birthday it is – not because I care one bit that you know how hold I am, dear reader – but because I honestly do not remember how old I am. It’s true – I had to ask my husband on my birthday how old I was turning….and tonight I don’t even remember what he told me. Two possible reasons:

It doesn’t really matter; it’s just a number; or
I’ve reached the age where I forget things easily

Let’s go with #1 above, OK? Ok.

That’s settled.

In honor of my _____ (fill in the blank with whatever number you want to use) birthday, I’d like to share a few things that I’ve learned – why? Because this is my website, I’m (?) years old, and I can.

#1. Most Things I Stress Over Usually Work Out Fine with Some Time

I wish I had known this when I was younger. Sure, this probably sounds like a huge generalization – and I’ll admit that it is. But when I think of some of the things that kept me knotted up through the years – lost car keys, a bad test score, what this person or that person thought about me, self-criticism (too fat, too awkward, not successful (whatever THAT means), too weird) missing important paperwork, overwhelmed by tasks at work – all these things that in the moment felt so HUGE – all eventually worked out in one way or another.

Sure, I still get wrapped around the axle over goofy things – but these days I try to remind myself to take a breath; focus on what I can do or can control, and find a balance between panic and acceptance that life is odd – and things typically have a way of working themselves out.

#2. There are Some Things That Will Just Be Hard. Period.

Reader – hear this – #2 does not negate #1. The difference is in realizing that this is a fallen world, and sometimes rain comes into our lives that colors everything dark – and that this rain falls on everyone at one time or another. Suffering and the problem of evil is very real. There is at times chronic pain – physical chronic pain of course is one type of real suffering; but there is another chronic pain that can sometimes enter a life and be so acute and profound and weighty in the moment…eventually settling to where it sits just under the surface, unexpectedly manifesting itself from time to time in the form of nightmares, or memories, or sadness.

And while this type of pain is so hard, there is a gift in it too – a gift that is not so readily visible, particularly when in the immediate throes of a nightmare or loss or trauma. No, typically it does not become evident until you have sat with that pain for a long time. The gift is two-fold, for those of us who are Christ-followers:

It reminds us that we have no hope, apart from God and his grace, mercy and sovereignty
It forces us to a deeper appreciation of the little things that brings us joy, and it fosters a deeper longing for when we are at home with Jesus – when we shall no longer “…see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.” (1st Corinthians 13:12) (If ever you want to hear someone speak about this who truly GETS it – look up Joni Earackson Tada.)

#3. There Are Some Personal Goals I am Just Never Gonna Reach

I am officially giving up the following goals:

Become an astronaut
Read an entire set of Encyclopedias
Climb Mount Everest
Run a Marathon
Join the FBI
Winterover at McMurdo Station
Finish the book “Jesus and the Eyewitnesses” by Richard Bauckham (I’m nerdy, but even I have a threshold for nerdiness)

#4. There Are Some Personal Goals I am Not Ready to Give Up On

Run another half-marathon
Write a Book
Visit all of the National Parks in the United States
Buy and RV and Travel with My Guy
Continue to Grow in my Career
Learn Something New Every Single Day

#5. Cherish Family

When our lives fell apart several years ago, my four kids and I had to circle the wagon and figure out how to put things back together again. While those years were TOUGH – there is so much good that came from them as well. The five of us our TIGHT. We know how to LAUGH. We know how to be LOUD. And we hold the times we have together as precious. No kidding, when the five of us are together…it can be a bit MUCH for anyone else in the room. (My overuse of all caps here should be a fair warning, should you ever find yourself spending time with us.)

When God brought my son-in-law into our world…he was the perfect fit, and we welcomed him with open arms. When God brought my guy into our world, He knew exactly ‘who’ both I and my crew needed – and Ken is exactly that for each of us – Ken loves each of us so well. And as I watch God continue to expand our family circle…new grandbabies, new girlfriends, new boyfriends – I am amazed over and over again at this beautiful thing He has created.

These days it is harder to get together – the smalls are now adults and doing adult things – careers, families, jobs, college. We are a bit scattered – Richmond…Smithfield…and even Bahrain. But we work hard to stay connected. We work hard to make time to BE together – and then we fill that time with as much memories and laughter as we can. I want to always be the kind of mom and Moppett (grandparent name – isn’t it the best?) that emphasizes never taking our times together for granted.

#6. Physically Getting Older is No Fun

It’s harder to exercise. It’s harder to lose weight. There are more aches and pains. My bones crack. My eyesight is bleh. I’ve never slept well – I sleep even less these days. And no amount of wrinkle cream or makeup is gonna correct or cover up the damage I’ve done to my skin over the years. And diabetes is a beast to manage. 0/10 Rating – I don’t recommend it.

True story – I remember watching my father take several pills/vitamins a day and thinking – yeah, I won’t ever take that many vitamins/supplements/pills. I’ll never be so old that I need a PILL ORGANIZER!!!

I now have two pill organizers.

But – I must keep moving. I must keep walking, keep working at eating right. I must stay mobile and active and energized because I have places I want to see, grandchildren I want to chase and hug, and I have those goals above that I want to achieve.

#7. Take All The Discounts

Yeah – one thing that definitely does not bother me about aging – I am ready for those senior citizen discounts.

Not that I’ll know when I’m eligible apparently, if I can’t start remembering how old I am…..(Takes a note to tell Ken to please monitor this over the next few years so we can get cheap meals and a grocery discount on Tuesdays.)

#8. Some Questions Will Never Be Answered

I have so many questions for God. I used to think that when I got to heaven, I’d finally have answers for my hundreds of “Why this?” and “Why that?” questions. I no longer think that’s the case. Not because I think the questions won’t matter once I reach ‘home’ – they very well may not at that point, but I’m gosh darn stubborn enough that I somehow suspect I’ll still have my questions somewhere inside my soul even in heaven.

No – I think some of our questions will not be answered – ever – because God is God. He is God, and there are just some things our human minds will never be able to understand – and that’s by design. And that design requires faith on our part – faith that He is God, and He is Just, and He is Holy, and that He is…..

#9. …..good. God is So Very Good in His Sovereignty.

I am (?) years old – and have determined that I will always wrestle with doubts. With questions. With fears. I believe that’s because I’m both wired that way, and I’ve experienced things that have seared that bend into my soul. But the one thing that holds me together is this – God is Good. He sees me, He knows me, He loves me.

He loved me the day I was born.

He has loved me during times of indescribable joy.

He has loved me through the deepest depths of despair.

He has loved me, even when I was absolutely certain he did not exist.

He has loved me, when I knew He existed yet could not sense His presence.

He has loved me in spite of ever failure, ever sin.

He loved me when I turned (?) years old this week.

And He will love me through all of eternity.

Fighting Evil with Hope: A Reaction to Events in Charlottesville

August 13, 2017 By Shelly Durkee

Really, I have no words worth reading, on the subject of the hatred and murder that we’ve witnessed today, in Charlottesville, VA.

All eyes have turned to this state that I live in last night and today, as a “Unite the Right” rally was held by so-called “white nationalists” and other alt-right and far right groups.

And, I almost didn’t write any words, as I’ve read news story after news story, about the evil white supremacist (calling it what it is, folks) rally held last night and today, and the violence that has led to the death now of 3 individuals, and has left several others injured.

Instead I’ve cleaned house, walked/ran 5 miles, studied for a certification test, cleaned house some more, walked some more, ate too much—all while my heart and soul and stomach have churned, and I’ve tried not to write about this because, really, what difference does my words make on a day like today?

I’m white, living in a safe neighborhood. I have never experienced racism or hatred against me. I have never feared for my life, based on the color of my skin. I have dear, dear friends who have lived in this terror, but I personally have no idea what that feels like.

I’m not a police officer, or the family member of one. I have dear friends who are, but I have never experienced fear for my life, as I tried to protect protesters and counter protesters alike, on horrific days like today–and I’ve never had someone come to my door to tell me that my loved one died in the line of duty.

I’m not a politician, charged with the responsibility of leading a nation, state county or city.

I’m not a historian, armed with the knowledge of the sins of our past.

I’m not a journalist, with a first-hand view of the sins of our present.

I’m not a teacher, with the responsibility of teaching this nation’s children that all hatred is wrong.

I’m not a theologian, charged with the duty of teaching the scriptural doctrine of God’s love for all people, without qualifications.

I’m not a pastor, with the weighty responsibility of standing in a pulpit tomorrow morning, and declaring to their congregation scriptural truth, regarding the sanctity of all human life, and proclaiming that racism is evil.

I’m only a mom of four kids, living in a small house, with a dog named Biscuit. I have no words of worth to add to the rhetoric being poured out about the events in Charlottesville today.

And so I almost didn’t write about this–I tried not to write about this–yet here I am, writing about it.

Because writing is how I process life in this world.

And because I am a mom of four young adults.

And one of the most frightening things I saw today, in the picture of the alt-right/far right-wing groups gathered today for their “Unite the Right” so-called “rally”, was just how young they looked, standing there last night, with their ridiculous, mosquito-repellant back deck porch “torches”.

What scared me about their youthfulness is this: they have long lives ahead of them, to perpetuate this evil, unless we–all of us–all ethnic groups, police, politicians, historian, journalists, teachers, theologians, preachers–and moms–and dads–and grandparents–do not stand up to these privileged white “children”, and tell them, “No.”

No, we will not let you promote your evil agendas.

No, we will not sugar coat it.

No, we will not dismiss it as you “exercising your right to protest”.

We must call it for what it is–racism–and stand up to it. Peacefully, because violence only begets violence–but firmly. Unwaveringly. Steadfastly.

And, reassuringly.

How does the act of reassuring fit into the mix of what our response should be, as evangelical Christians?

Because, we are called to share hope with the world–all of the world. And that hope is truly the only reassuring and healing salve to the gaping wounds that are being inflicted by evil.

That presentation of that hope is not a weak response, in the face of racism. Instead, that hope is found only in the love of Christ, who laid down His life as a sacrifice for our sins.

That is not weak.

That is strength that we can not even begin to understand.

And, that hope–the hope of this mighty Gospel–is not a hope for “all sides”, because in the shadow of the cross, there are no sides.

So while it may seem as if there is nothing I can do to help defeat this evil, I know that is not truth.

I can teach my young adults what love for all looks like–and encourage them to grow up to be the exact opposite of the young adults who stood in Charlottesville with their torches, chanting white supremacy slogans. And strongly admonish them, should they ever display anything except love and respect for all people.

I can pray real prayer–not only for those who suffer from the throes of racism, but also for those who embrace such hatred, because they suffer as well, from something dark and sinister that may ultimately lead to an eternal suffering for which there is no description.

I can stand with those who fight injustice and evil, in any way that I can.

I can stand against injustice and evil in any form. I can stand firmly and resolutely against all white supremacy behaviors, and any acts of racism, no matter the form it takes.

And I can deliberately share the hope of the Gospel, and offer the reassuring salve of healing that Jesus procured for us when He died upon the cross, and I can demonstrate this hope through obedience to the words Jesus spoke, found in John 13:34-35:

34 A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. 35 By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Some folks that I respect greatly, have shared words today that far more accurately express the truth of the hope of the Gospel, in light of today’s events in Charlottesville. I’d like to share them here, for your consideration, because they have captured this hope, and our responsibility to share that hope, better than I ever could:

From Matt Chandler:

In all of this, for the black and the white (and every other color), our only hope is the gospel. Until there is an acknowledgement of privilege and repentance for discrimination, the kingdom and what God has purchased for us in Christ isn’t going to be displayed and lives are still going to be destroyed. It’s systemic, historic and horrific. Might we be men and women with calloused hands and knees as we seek the Lord for racial reconciliation. -Matt Chandler

From Al Mohler:

“Racial superiority in any form, and white superiority as the central issue of our concern, is a heresy. The separation of human beings into ranks of superiority and inferiority differentiated by skin color is a direct assault upon the doctrine of Creation and an insult to the imago Dei—the image of God in which every human being is made. Racial superiority is also directly subversive of the gospel of Christ, effectively reducing the power of his substitutionary atonement and undermining the faithful preaching of the gospel to all persons and to all nations.”

From John Piper:

The bloodline of Jesus is thicker, deeper, stronger than the bloodline of race, ethnicity and family.

From Jesus:

For God so loved the world, that He gave his one and only son, that whosoever believeth in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life. (John 3:16)

Missing My Imperfect Mom

May 14, 2017 By Shelly Durkee

It’s funny how grief can catch you off-guard and throw you off-kilter, when you least expect it.

The other day, I was out walking…thinking…walking….thinking……

Mostly I was thinking about my crew—these four kids of mine. All four are young adults now. They amaze me. I can’t believe that I get to be their mom.

And, in the midst of those thoughts, it hit me.

I am now almost 3 years older than what my mom was, when cancer ravaged her body and took her life.

Wow. Such a strange thing to ponder.

I’ll be honest with you—the idea caught my breath, for a moment. While my theology does not permit me to say that she has missed so much–for I firmly believe she is truly home, where there is no pain, no sickness, no weariness, no sorrow—–I can say that I self-centeredly, have missed her deeply. When I look back over all the things that I have experienced in the 25 years since her death, there is an ache in my soul:

I missed her when I took my first pregnancy test, and it had two lines, instead of one.
I missed her in the middle of the “It’s-2:00am-my-little-guy-is-burning-up-with-a-fever-what-do-I-do” nights.
I missed her when I wondered if I would survive the Pre-Teen years.
I missed her when I was frightened and filled with doubts about who God is.
I missed her when our lives fell apart.
I’ve missed sharing with her, as new joys have entered my world and as God has shown me grace and mercy.
And, I miss her now, as I try to help my four young adults find their footing out in this big, big world.

Oh mom, I miss you.

There’s a tendency, when we lose someone we love, to put that person on a pedestal. We all do it; I think it is a very normal thing to do. There may be even an element of health to it–we long to remember our loved ones with fond memories, not hard ones. So, we focus on how wonderful they were.

As we should.

But I think there is a real danger in that, as well, if we are not careful. We can tend to idolize them–to change reality in such a way that we miss just how very human–and like us–they were.

Let me stop here, though, and say this—before you think that you are about to read something negative about my mom, let me assure you that is not the case.

My mom truly was amazing.

I didn’t appreciate just how amazing, until just about 10 years ago, when I took an honest look at who she was. She was incredible. Hard-working. Kind-hearted. Stubborn (in a good way). Beautiful. Compassionate.

And, people, she was funny.

But you know what?

She was not perfect.

And, her imperfect-ness makes me miss her even more.

You see, now that I find myself in that very weird stage of life, where my two bigs have “launched” into adulthood, and my too smalls are standing on that cliff, preparing to make that leap, I find that I have a different perspective on parenting–and life, in general.

I can look back on the past 24 years of being a parent and see just how many times I have failed my crew. Just how many mistakes I have made. I have been angry, when compassion would have been the better option. I have been too harsh at times, and too lenient at others. I have failed to listen well, on occasion. I have forgotten things, such as lunch money, signed permission slips, soccer registration deadlines. I’ve not done a great job of teaching them how to eat healthy, or how to iron their clothes perfectly. I’ve laughed, when I should have cried—and I’ve cried, when I should have laugh.

And guess what, all my mom friends? (And dad friends, too!)

You have, too.

This thing called parenting—it’s like navigating shark-infested waters. You can thinking you are swimming along just fine, in calm, clear waters, when all of a sudden, a fin pops up next to you, and you are in panic mode. It’s unpredictable. It’s uncontrollable. It’s wonderful, amazing, exhilarating, terrifying, exhausting, joyful and heart-crushing.

And we will not–we can not–do it perfectly.

And, as amazing as my mom was, she did not parent perfectly.

And, oh, that makes me love and miss her just that much more. Why?? Because it gives me tremendous hope. It gives me hope to know that the mistakes I make are covered by tremendous grace, just as the mistakes she made were covered with tremendous grace. It gives me hope because, instead of trying to live up to a “perfect” example in my mom, I can strive to be “like” her, with all of my flaws—and that goal is attainable. Do I think I will ever reach it? No–because while I do not put her on a pedestal, I can’t imagine ever living up to her example. But it is not so far out of my reach, that it discourages me from trying.

And, in trying to be like her, I hope and pray I am creating the same sort of legacy for my kids—one that says, “I’m not perfect. I will make mistakes. I do make mistakes. I mess up, in this parenting thing…..

But I love you Keli, Tim, Mark and Bethy. And I am always, always, always, in your corner.

And, I will never stop praying for each of you, that you will know the only perfect parent–our God, who gives us the grace, and mercy, and forgiveness necessary to parent those He entrusts to us for a breath of time, in this life.

Thank you, Mom, for teaching me this.

And, for being imperfectly perfect.

I love you.

Happy Mother’s Day.

This Should Not Be

October 9, 2016 By Shelly Durkee

Tonight, about 2 hours ago, I sent my youngest boy off for his first–and last (he is a senior this year) Homecoming Dance.

He looked so handsome, standing there, letting me dry his hair with the hair dryer, asking me how to put his bow-tie on, and fretting over getting his shirt tucked in just so. He didn’t want to bend over and risk it coming “untucked”, so he asked me to tie his shoes.

As he was waiting for his buddy to pick him up (they were driving together, to meet up with a large group of friends, for dinner) I reminded him of manners–“I know this isn’t a “date”, but that doesn’t matter–you treat the girls with respect tonight. You make them feel special—open the doors for them, offer them your umbrella, pull their chairs out at the table. Be a gentleman.”

He said, “Ok, mom. Got it.” as he went out the door, jumped in the car, and drove off with his friend.

I then went inside, and unfortunately checked Facebook.

And doing so reminded me that the world we are handing our kids–my boy, the one I just lectured on being a “gentleman”–is so upside down.

I read posts from friends, pastors and “evangelical” leaders, dismissing Trump’s lewd remarks about women–remarks that, yes, he made 11 years ago–shrugging them off as “locker room talk.”

“It’s not that bad. I’ve heard worst. That’s “normal” (yes, I saw that word used) stuff that guys do and say. It was years ago, we can’t expect him to have respected women then–it was so long ago. People change.”

It makes my stomach hurt.

It causes me to grieve.

And I am angry.

If I were to apply that kind of logic to my parenting, then wouldn’t it follow that I am a fool to have told my son to be respectful of the young ladies whose company he will be in tonight, because–after all–boys will be boys? And girls–and woman–are objects to be treated as property, evaluated and conquered, not treated with respect and dignity, right?

This is what some are saying is “not a big deal” for the position of “President” in our country.

People. My friends. This can not be.

It calls to my mind, the words we find in James 3, which refer to the words that we speak:

9 With it we bless our Lord and Father, and with it we curse people who are made in the likeness of God. 10 From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers, these things ought not to be so. 11 Does a spring pour forth from the same opening both fresh and salt water?

The words Trump uses are essentially curses of women (daughters, sisters, mothers, wives), yet at the same time, he is quick to invoke God’s name, when it suits his agenda. An interview in June, with Cal Thomas, revealed Trump’s focus of using–and abusing–what he can, to get what he wants–even religion. (You can read the transcript of that interview by clicking this link: Trump Interview-Transcript.

These words on the tape are not something we can dismiss as “boys will be boys”. That kind of thinking has scarred thousands of us whose lives have been shattered by the nightmare of sexual abuse, sexual assault, and related crimes. Words that are shrugged off as “boys will be boys” and “locker room banter” absolutely can–and does–lead to sinful actions and evil crimes. I KNOW THIS TOO WELL. Whew. My soul.

Trump is not a boy. He was an adult when he made those misogynist statements. He’s 70 years old now. He was 59 years old then. He was and is an adult man, who displays predatory behavior. And absolutely does not belong in the White House.

I have many more thoughts on this, however I can not bear to see them as words written down.

And Hilary–I will not vote for her, either. For a myriad of different reasons, her pro-choice stance being just one. A thousand different reasons. She terrifies me, too.

They both do. I’m outraged by both candidates–and by both parties, for allowing our political world to build up as a climate of lies and greed and scandals for decades upon decades, only to dump us at this doorstep in history. I hate that this is what we are handing our kids for their future. And I want neither candidate as my oldest son’s Commander-in-Chief.

I will absolutely exercise my right to vote in November–in honor of those who have given their lives to give me that right. And to teach my kids that we have a right and responsibility to vote. And I have been and will continue to talk much with them, about the need to do what is right, even when it is not popular. And to trust God and remember that this is not our home–we are but sojourners here in this warped and sin-ridden world.

Yes, I will vote come November. However, I will write in candidates this year.

And while I have been accused of casting a useless vote (I have been told that, by not voting for Trump, I am endorsing and ensuring a win for Hilary. That is ridiculous.) I absolutely do not agree that by doing so, I am “throwing away” my vote. Not in the least. Not at all.

I fully recognize that the people whose names I am going to write in, will not win.

But one of the beautiful things about our freedom as US citizens is that I have the freedom to NOT vote for either candidate, neither of whom I have confidence in. And I, personally, can’t vote for either of the major party candidates.

I’ve seen too much in this life, to brush Trump’s words off as harmless “banter among the guys”. He is a childish man displaying predatory behavior. No. Never Trump.

And I take the work I do in support of our armed forces in my job seriously–as well as the sacredness and sanctity of human life, that I can’t bear to cast my vote for Hilary as President when, had I done what she has done (in her treatment of secured and classified information), I’d be in prison. No. Never Hilary.

But I absolutely will cast a vote, for my write-in choices. And I will teach my children to be thinkers and make careful and wise choices.

And I will pray. And speak against evil, when I see it.

And I will rest in the fact that there will be a day–Maranatha, God. We are so tired. We long for your return.