Just wanted to get a quick word out to let you know about an online training opportunity we will be offering next Tuesday, March 31st at noon. I'll be conducting a Webinar called "Welcome to the Hive". It's all about girls' groups--the queen bee, the wanna-be and the other players within girl world. I'll also offer some practical do's and don'ts for surviving this jungle. It's a FREE class, so feel free to invite fellow girls' ministers, the male youth ministers you work with, volunteer workers, and even parents. To sign up for the class, just click here.

I miss my sister.

She passed away seven years ago today. She was six years older than me and we fought like, well, sisters. Unfortunately, when we were old enough to appreciate each other, our lives had taken such divergent paths that it was difficult to find a path back to each other.

When I think about her, my emotions are mixed. I remember fun times we had together, like our last Christmas together when we woke my mom and dad up on Christmas morning just like we had when we were kids. My parents didn't appreciate being woken at the crack of dawn by two grown women bouncing on their bed. On the day she got married, I took her to feed the ducks at the park because she was getting just too stressed out at this whole wedding thing (I was young and clueless!). When we attempted to go golfing with my dad, we used our golf clubs and the carts to play joust, much to the extreme ire of my father (which made it all the more fun). And I still have the score sheet from the one and only time she and I beat my mother and grandmother in a game of canasta (if you're not familiar with the game, don't ask!).

I get sad too. I am sad because she made some poor choices, and those poor choices cost her dearly. I daydream about what her life would have been like if she had made a different decisions. I wonder how our relationship would have been different, too. She always saw herself as the black sheep of the family, forever labeled as an outsider and "less than". She labeled me as the golden child who was pampered as the baby of the family (I was a little bit) and she thought I never struggled and never made mistakes. Oh, if she only knew.

When I think about my sister, I also whisper a word of "thank you" to God for orchestrating the events of my life in such a redemptive way. I don't understand why, and I can't barely trace the "how", but somehow, someway, I ended up here, in this place in my life. With an amazing husband who still brings me flowers for no reason, and a daughter whose innocent and joyful approach to life adds years to my own. And I get to work at a place where I get to make a difference in the lives of girls and moms and leaders.

There wasn't such a thing as girls' ministry or women's ministry when my sister and I were young. But I think would have made all the difference in her life. I guess that's one of the reasons I'm so passionate about the next generation.

I was reading a news article today that disturbed me.

Click here to read the article

Here's the gist: It's Rihanna's fault that her beau Chris Brown beat her.

I'm quite proud of myself for actually knowing the history of this story. In a fit of rage during an argument, Chris beat the stuffing out of Rihanna, and shortly afterward, the couple reconciled.

Anyway, back to the present...a bunch of teen girls were surveyed about the whole issue, and a whole host of girls actually thought it was the girl's fault. Seriously?

Apparently Oprah commented about this on one of her recent broadcasts. Her statement was, "Where have we gone wrong here?"

While I don't think I'll ever think of Oprah and me as a "we" in most situations--including theology--we do agree with each other on this one.

Something has gone terribly wrong if we as a culture, even a subculture, have somehow communicated to the next generation that it's ok to beat or to be beaten. Is it the media? Is it family values? Is it a lack of modeling? I know there are no simple answers because it's a complicated problem.

But it is a reminder to me not to take anything for granted. I assme that girls know that physical violence is never acceptable. That "it won't happen again" is myth. That they have the right to speak up---and absolutely must speak up---if something happens to them.

Apparently, that message isn't being communicated clearly enough. Or often enough. And I have to remind myself that "church girls" need to hear the message too. 

 

 

 

"I don't want to eat any more or my belly will get fat."

I expect to hear this from preteen or teen girls. I've heard it from women my own age who struggle to eat healthy.

I didn't expect to hear it from my three-year-old daughter.

Now keep in mind that we don't talk about weight at our house. I don't ever mention my own struggles with body image. Those conversations stay behind closed doors. We don't leave our scale in plain sight. I even chastised my dad when Kaitlyn was about a year old when he told her she had a "fat belly." My husband and I try very hard to foster healthy body image, to teach her balance--a cookie every so often is OK, and carrots with a little ranch dressing is good. (Well, actually, my husband hates ranch dressing, so that one comes from me.)

So where did she hear this? Day care? Church? Sprout TV? I don't know.

But I do know the source behind it all--the enemy.

Satan. The father of lies. The fallen angel who still wreaks havoc anywhere and everywhere he can, especially on hearts that are tender. The one whose strategy is nothing more than the utter devastation of a girl's life, the captivity of her heart, soul, and mind.

He makes me so mad sometimes. But when he went after my little girl, he picked a fight with the wrong person. He's got a war on his hands now. And luckily, it's not me fighting the battle.
I only hope other parents and leaders of preschoolers--and young girls and preteens and teens--will take up the same banner and be willing to fight for the hearts of girls. In God's power and for His glory.