children

Under No Condition…

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Unconditional love is demonstrated when each party is able to express its views, beliefs and positions freely, without fear of harsh opposition, judgment or repercussion. In short, unconditional love does not hold one hostage.

In relationships where unconditional love exists, each party is willing to accept that the other may not share their views, beliefs or positions and does not set out to diminish or change the views of the other. Throughout the process, the unconditional love continues to flow freely, uninhibited by differences.

As parents, we must be willing to validate our children’s feelings by being willing to admit to our failures, areas where our parenting practices may have fallen short or times when we may have exercised poor judgment – acknowledging the negative effect those actions might have caused.

Parents must be willing to validate our children’s feelings, understanding that it is not about us admitting to wrongdoing; rather, it is about us listening to, hearing and acknowledging our child’s perception of that which occurred. Simply put, it is less about defending the intent of our actions and more about giving them the opportunity to voice their perception of those actions and the feelings that resulted.

As parents of adult children, we must understand that acceptance of our children’s views, beliefs or positions, to which we may be opposed, is not an indication of our agreement with or support of those views; rather, it is simply a demonstration of our love for and acceptance of our children while possessing a healthy respect for the fact that they must be permitted to work out their path apart from threats, warnings and harsh criticism or judgment that we, as parents, can tend to dole out as our faith and trust becomes impeded by what we begin to fear is hopeless.

Parents must realize that while we, ourselves, continue along in our own individual journeys – aside from our labels of parent, child, spouse, co-worker, acquaintance, neighbor or friend, we have set our examples; we have poured into the lives of others – primarily, our children – with all that we had at our disposal at the time.

We’ve won and we’ve lost.
We’ve hit the mark squarely and we’ve missed it completely.
We’ve indulged and we’ve neglected.
We’ve given thanks and we’ve complained.
We’ve prepared hot meals and we’ve served cold bowls of cereal.
We’ve had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and we’ve been down to bread and butter.
We’ve gone out for meals and we’ve dined on eggs and toast for supper.
We’ve been well-rested and we’ve run ourselves ragged.
We’ve been bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and we’ve been glassy-eyed with our tail between our legs.
We’ve tossed and turned and we’ve slumbered in peace.
We’ve read books and we’ve popped in videos.
We’ve taught to tie shoes and we’ve celebrated Velcro.
We’ve taken temperatures and wiped noses and we’ve told them to just get over it.
We’ve done too much and we’ve not done enough.
We’ve been cautious and we’ve been careless.
We’ve been insightful and we’ve been blind-sighted.
We’ve suffered in lack as their needs we filled and we’ve bought a new dress and have been laden with guilt.
We’ve taken stands and we’ve thrown up our hands, but…

Through it all, the flame of love for our children never grows dim, nor can it be snuffed out by the world’s winds. We must hold onto our faith, keep on believing and offer our love and support. We must be willing to listen to and able to hear what is and is not being said. We must learn to gracefully persevere life’s hardships and challenges (we all have them) as they seek to find and finally see that it is quite possible to continue to flourish in the midst of a struggle. We must free our hearts and minds in deliberate celebration, thoroughly enjoying our many blessings (we all have them), large and small. For through this, our legacy will live on for generations to come and they will have witnessed, firsthand, a life of true salvation in Christ. Thus, we will have spoken louder than any words, deeds or actions that we rendered for the good of those to whom we commit our unconditional love.

– Tina Allen

Grand Finale

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There is a chair, in which I sit, a favored place to be,
It’s a space where I’m suitably fitted, a place created just for me;

I needn’t worry when I am here, that I’ll face a judge or jury,
For in this light, my past mistakes serve only to enhance my beauty;

No matter what my deficits, for here, it makes no difference,
I bask in a glow of warm delight as if I’m simply perfect;

At my feet, seated patiently, poised in anticipation,
Their eyes of wonder fixed upon me as they peer in admiration;

My brunette tresses faded, lying dull and colorless,
Yet a sparkling crown is what they see, shining with magnificence;

They long to hear my stories of forgotten yesterdays,
The tragedies and triumphs working to increase their faith;

Anxious to listen and hungry to learn, they nestle upon my knee,
Their youthful faces of innocence reflect a trace of me;

My weakened limbs, to them, are well-equipped with strength and power,
For beyond the times when I’ve fallen short, they see all I have to offer;

While I do not hasten to grow old, the clock’s hands won’t stand still,
So while I live, the role of grandparent I’ll humbly work to fill.

– Tina Allen

Treating Myself

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If I was to treat myself the way I treat others, I’d say, “You’re doing great, don’t give up!”
I’d garnish my plate with a parsley snip just to add a finishing touch;

I’d buy vanilla rather than chocolate, simply because it’s the flavor I like,
I’d make a big pot of chicken and dumplings and eat from my favorite dish every night;

If I saw myself how I saw others, I’d gaze deeper into the mirror,
Seeing past the fact that time has passed, my beauty to me, would be clearer;

I’d paint my toes in wonderful colors, and admire how quaint they appeared,
And I might just dare myself to wear ruby-red lips without one ounce of fear;

I’d go without makeup more often, and not concern myself with how it looked,
I’d pull on an old gray sweatshirt and jeans and run around free and barefoot;

I would pull my hair back in bobby pins just to show my face,
And I would, unapologetically remark to myself that I look simply splendid that way;

If we gave time to ourselves as generously as we give it to those in our lives,
We would be surprised to find that we’re worth more than we realize!
– Tina Allen

Rebecca Ann Sedwick – The Means to an End

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As mothers, our children are our hearts. We dream of having them and become infused with new hope as we are finally given the coveted honor of carrying their delicate beings inside our bodies. As we hold them in our arms for the very first time and gaze into their eyes, they peer back at us with an unspoken expectation – one which makes us feel incredibly inadequate to fulfill our new role. Instantly, we are connected and consumed with a desire to fill their every need, swaddling them with love and shrouding them in security as their individuality evolves and their personality begins to take shape.

I fondly recall my first child – a wonderfully stubborn little redheaded daughter who insisted on wearing her scuffed black patent Sunday shoes with every solitary outfit, and for every occasion – with no socks! I remember wringing my hands, teetering between feelings of excitement and worry as I drove away from the school after dropping her off for her first day of kindergarten. I remember her asking to shave her legs, her wanting her first bikini, her battle with her first blemishes. I remember her particular inclination toward fluorescent colors and bell bottoms which, in keeping with her old habit, she adorned with black platform baby doll shoes; and how I tried to instill a sense of pride in her as she glared into the mirror in disgust at her adorable freckles (which she now takes particular pride in having).

Each of my children has a story and my love for them is undeniable; for I would, without question or hesitation, give my very life if it meant saving any one of theirs. I have made many mistakes during the course of my journey through motherhood and have spent countless hours and in some cases, even years, pondering my shortcomings. I have sentenced myself to merciless judgment of my performance as a mother, admittedly having searched for ways to fill the emptiness in my own life while at the same time, unknowingly creating voids in the lives of my kids.

I can only hope that through my foolishness, they were able to gain wisdom and that my putting forth the effort to change my life has given them a sense of hope and confidence. I am grateful that through my openness and honesty, they have been compelled to forgive me for all the times that I have fallen short at their expense.

With that said, I cannot even begin to imagine the despair that is being experienced by the mother of the late Rebecca Sedwick – the beautiful twelve-year old girl in Polk County, Florida, who recently made the dreadful decision to take her own life. Rebecca’s mother is not unlike the rest of us. She has regrets. She bears the burden of remorse. She is imperfect. She is searching. But unlike me, she has been sentenced to live out the rest of her life with an indelible print on her heart – the day her daughter exited the doorway of their home for the very last time. The precious little feet that once upon a time pitter-pattered around the house in curiosity had now taken a dark detour as they escorted her to her final destination.

The abandoned cement factory seemed the perfect spot. Cold, empty, sterile, void of life, isolated. She felt an eerie comfort by its surroundings.

The same beautiful eyes that once shone with hope were now gazing up a metal ladder in contemplation, their spark now reduced to a smoldering ember. A fear of heights could not have dissuaded her that day. For it was no match for the fear of facing another day of torment.

And so she continued with her plan as, rung by rung, she slowly began to climb, her pace hastening as she went. The soft hands that once clutched to her mother for stability now worked to steady her as she, in nervous desperation, rose higher and higher up the column until finally, she reached the top.

Second thoughts were forbidden as overpowering words and images thrust her beyond the threshold of return. The sting of those words was unrelenting as they continued to play like a recorded loop in her head. The messages had slowly seeped down into her soul and were now anchored as truth to her being.

‘Can u die please?’
‘Why are you still alive?’
‘Drink bleach and die’
‘You’re ugly’
‘Nobody cares about u”
‘Go die’

Over and over again, the cruel words that had been posted and then spread like a wildfire over the world wide web, peppered her thoughts refusing to be silenced, unwilling to yield even in the midst of this somber occasion.

And then, as if diving into a refreshing pool of relief, Rebecca Ann Sedwick boldly stepped over the edge, plunging from atop the tower onto the hard, unforgiving pavement below.

As details of the story began to emerge, I was overwhelmed with a sense of shock, as I could not conceive of a twelve-year-old child having mustered the nerve to jump to her death onto a bed of gravel. But the impact of the harsh and unforgiving ground upon her mortal body was no match for the acts of her troubled tormenters who, for reasons so petty they’re not worthy of mentioning, had made it their business to pummel their target, who was Rebecca Ann Sedwick, beyond a place of sanity to a place where she desired death over having to endure their unconscionable behavior.

‘Yes IK I bullied REBECCA nd she killed her self but IDGAF’.

Although there were said to be as many as fifteen girls who teamed up against her, the two main perpetrators – ages twelve and fourteen – were arrested on felony stalking charges. After learning late yesterday that the charges had been dropped, one of Rebecca’s young violators and her attorney had the following comments:

“I do not feel I did anything wrong,” said the younger perpetrator, Katelyn Roman, who just weeks earlier when faced with the possibility of legal repercussions, was described as being remorseful for her actions.

“The family is extremely disturbed and we are looking into every possible remedy at their disposal. His conduct was reprehensible,” said Jose Baez, Roman’s attorney referring to the public “plastering” of his client’s face all over the media by Sheriff Grady Judd.

He described the sheriff’s conduct as “unconscionable” and “reckless” and criticized him for talking about the case on national television and for the releasing of the disturbing arrest photos of the girls.

In an unsurprising twist, Mr. Baez is now threatening to sue the sheriff, taking his appalling position a step further by demanding a public apology by Sheriff Judd to the girls.

At the end of the day, we are left with a dead twelve-year-old girl, a grieving mother and family, and two young girls – ages thirteen and fourteen – whose hearts continue to seethe with anger and hostility as their parents and attorneys work to defend their irregular behavior. I have no doubt that these two girls – who I would describe as victims of a broken and ineffective system – will continue to manifest their blatant cries for help in their desperate attempts to be heard. And it is my sincere hope that they will not be driven to the point of suicide before anyone decides to listen and act.

I would greatly appreciate your prayers as I launch forward with a legislative initiative to combat bullying in State of Florida public schools entitled, “Common Ground Rule”. I am currently meeting with local legislators in Hillsborough County, Florida, trying to secure a bill sponsor for the upcoming legislative session. As I work to lay the groundwork for change, I find myself engaged in a war that is clearly emotional in an arena that unfortunately is not.

Until next time,

Tina

The Mother Load!

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Recently, one of my coworkers who knows how much I love big purses gave me this HUGE purse that she had been given by a friend. It seems it was way too big for her liking but she recalled me lugging in my belongings each day, big purse and tote in tow – both filled to their brims!

There have been a couple of times when I’ve forgotten my tote at home and on the rare occasions where that does happen, I feel completely naked and insecure all day! What does it have in it, you ask? Well, let’s see – recipes, articles, bills, the family budget, miscellaneous writings of mine, hairspray, a brush and comb, heat rub, pens, pencils, flash drives, paperclips, bobby pins, and some loose change. I’m sure there’s more but that’s all I can think of at the moment…

Wow, sounds important, huh? The funny thing is that I rarely go into the tote during the day but still and yet, I simply must have it with me every day! I admit it gets cumbersome at times but it doesn’t matter, I gotta have it!

A few days ago, I was lying down spending some time with the Lord. Folding my hands over my heart, I began asking the Lord to reveal to me anything that may be in my heart that He wanted to put His finger on. As I lay there in virtual silence and “hearing” no response, I began calling out the names of each of my children, listing specifically the things about each of them for which I am thankful as well as concerns, worries, fears, frustrations and hurts. I then moved to my parents, my sister, and finished with my husband. As I continued to pray, un-rehearsed words of inner truth tumbled forth from my mouth, much of them taking me by complete surprise!

Suddenly, with eyes closed, I saw myself standing at the foot of my bed, on which laid an open suitcase. I began unpacking the items from the suitcase and stacking them onto the bed nearby. As I looked at the stacks that were quickly growing, I wondered how in the world all that had fit into that suitcase! After all visible items were unloaded, I finished by slipping my hands into the various pockets and zippered compartments, running my fingers along the bottoms and finding things that I’d long since forgotten were ever put there.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, I was hit with the revelation that through my prayers, I was, in essence, unpacking my baggage and that I had, in fact, had areas of bitterness and resentment that would’ve otherwise gone unnoticed had I not been so thorough in my inspection.

Realizing that I only had about twenty minutes to get to my doctor’s appointment, I finished off my prayer to the Lord expressing that I was sorry to have to leave in the middle of this exercise but assuring Him that I would get back with Him later on that afternoon. After all, this was only the first step. I still needed for Him to show me what I was to do with this newfound information.

As I drove home from my appointment, I worked to get myself back to the place where the Lord and I had left off. As I began to pray, I saw myself walking through my house and stopping at my bedroom doorway. Peering in, I saw Jesus standing next to my bed on which laid the open, empty suitcase and piles of clothes and other contents that I had unloaded earlier. I stood there for a few minutes before He noticed me. Busily looking through and sorting the clothes and other items I’d left behind, He finally noticed me standing there. Looking up at me, it was as if He read my mind as I, overcome with a sense of guilt and, in an apologetic tone, silently communicated, “That’s okay, you don’t have to do that – it’s my mess; I’ll clean it up.”

With as direct and solemn a look as I’ve ever seen and perhaps even a bit frustrated, He looked at me and said, “So you actually want to re-pack some of this stuff and carry it around again?”

“But those are my kids, that’s my mom and dad, that’s my husband! Aren’t I supposed to carry them, at least to some degree? Isn’t that what any responsible and accountable person does? Doesn’t that demonstrate my love for them?” I silently exclaimed.

He didn’t say a word; He didn’t have to. As the revelatory message seeped down into my spirit, a magnitude of stress and weight instantly lifted. I felt euphoric as the realization hit that unless I simply chose to do so, never again would I ever have to pick that case back up and worry about carrying it around. The very suggestion of such relief being so readily available to me seemed surreal.

There remained only two orders of business which needed handling:

“Lord, I am so sorry for thinking of myself as being worthy enough to carry Your loads,” and;

“Lord, please direct me as to what You would have me do with the time that has been freed up by Your redemptive love and saving grace!”

Until next time,

Tina 😉

In His Presents…

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When I went to visit my mom this past weekend, she proudly emerged from her bedroom with a gift for each of my sons – a soccer-themed wall hanging which she handed to my younger son, Jai; and a baseball-themed night-light, which she gave to my older son, Jorryn. Both boys glanced over at me with perplexed looks on their faces as they reached out to politely accept the gifts.

“What’s wrong, you don’t like them?” asked Mom, visibly offended by their responses.

“No, we do – thank you,” they both said, smiling kindly so as not to hurt their grandmother’s feelings.

But what they were really wondering (as was I), was why she would’ve given Jorryn (the soccer player), something that was baseball-themed and Jai (the baseball player), something that was soccer-themed. The answer really is quite simple and the truth, blatantly obvious. She has no clue what they enjoy, much less where their gifts or talents lie.

It reminds me of a conversation I had with one of the mothers at my son’s basketball game last week. She admitted to feeling badly for her son as she watches him play because he is so uncoordinated and lacking in ability in comparison to the other players. She confided in me that the only reason she even signed him up was because his father insisted on it, going on to explain that she and his father are divorced and that her son is intimidated and nervous around his father – that the two basically have a relationship that is greatly lacking. And while his father has insisted that he play basketball, he has not been to so much as even one game. Nothing against this young man, but the poor thing sticks out like a sore thumb.

Just by talking to her, it was evident to me that she is a caring mother. And while I’m sure that her hope is for her son’s athletic abilities to increase through continued participation, I can’t help but feel that she (and her son) are responding to pressure being asserted by a father who secretly hopes that his son will magically evolve into some great sports star of whom he can some day be proud…

Probably not gonna happen!

This is only my opinion and I realize that just because everyone has one doesn’t mean anyone wants to hear about mine. But I feel that this fellow is being done a terrible disservice by being placed and expected to perform in an area where he is clearly not gifted. Not only does he run the risk of repeated feelings of failure and even higher levels of insecurity, but he is expending valuable time and energy that could be more productively directed towards areas where he is gifted, doing things he enjoys and that will increase his confidence and potential to grow and succeed.

It’s like the time my mom had heard about a local beauty contest and was convinced that I had a good chance at winning. Mom whisked me off to the store to find a new dress and shoes (it was the one and only time she ever took me to the mall). My hair, which I’d carefully swept onto pink sponge rollers the night before, cascaded softly down my back, my little navy blue and green dress was pressed crisp and my white shoes were shining. I was ready for my big debut!

As my sister, Jerri, sat nervously wringing her hands, Mom stared intently with a look of surety on her face as my name rang out over the loud speakers. Out came Tina in all her glory – dashing out onto that basketball court like a horse who’d just heard the firing of the starting gun! Mom’s expression of surety quickly changed as I abruptly worked to make all the required spins, turns and momentary poses as I’d seen the others do.

“Well, there goes my hundred dollars,” Mom said, head down in her hands with disappointment. (I didn’t hear her, but of course, Jerri was sure to tell me!)

My mom found out the hard way that it would take more than a fancy dress, shiny shoes and flowing hair to make a beauty queen. Jerri often complains that I was the prettiest, the most popular, the outgoing one – “the one with all the talent,” she says. And I suppose that it was everyone else’s perceptions of me that had Mom convinced that I could win that pageant. But it seems that my endearing eyes and charisma did not prove to be enough to make me a success in the realm of pageantry. The truth was that I was a tomboy who hated wearing dresses and I couldn’t have cared less about trying to impress anybody. Contrary to appearances and assumptions, I just wasn’t suited for it.

I was creative; I loved to write, draw and paint. In fact, I was in the gifted program as an elementary student and two of my poems were selected for publishing. What did any of that have to do with beauty contests? Absolutely nothing. The fact is that it was more than likely Mom who wanted me to be a beauty queen. I would’ve rather slapped on a pair of overalls and cowboy boots and gone fishing or sat down with a pad of drawing paper and crayons than to have been prancing around a gymnasium trying to win some stupid contest!

We all possess gifts and each and every one of our strengths and abilities is fitting for our individual purpose. But only we truly know what that is and it is up to us to pursue life accordingly. As parents, we must be willing to step back and “watch” and “listen” for our children’s cues as their strengths and talents begin to surface and work to encourage them in ways that are suited to their individual identities. And as individuals, we must learn to “hear” what is in our own hearts and “see” our own capabilities so as not to get caught in the trap of trying to achieve the dreams or expectations of those around us. We must be solely dedicated to developing those gifts with which we’ve been blessed and entrusted and allow others – including our children – to do the same.

Until next time,

Tina 😉