I went to give blood yesterday and found myself sitting in the little room where the technician does the interview and makes sure that you have sufficient amounts of iron in your blood. The technician and I began talking about other things after a while, and I found out that she was a young mom with a four year old son, which led to a discussion about parenting. She said that she felt like she was “the weirdest mom on the face of the earth” mostly because her mother disagrees with some of her choices as a parent. I understand that, but parenting has changed quite a bit over the generations so I suggested that she look at this way: her son is an expression of who she is and her particular style of parenting is probably the exact style of parenting that he needs. I told her that I went through the exact same thing with my parents–not that they made a big deal about it–and both of my daughters grew up to be beautiful, self-sufficient women that I am very proud of (and so are my parents!) We would have talked longer but I was supposed to be donating blood, not counseling medical technicians, and so I shut up and got ready for the needle stick. I hate donating blood but I’m a universal donor (O+) and I am really healthy, so I feel obligated.
Waiting for pint of blood to flow out of you takes a few minutes and I realized that I should post about mothering/parenting on my blog. I was going to write an entry, and then realized that I already had something written and the video version of what I’d written would be better than the text. A friend invited me to preach at his church on Mother’s Day earlier this year, and I chose to focus on what I would want my daughters to know about being a mom–what is truly important and what is not.
Promise me that you won’t comment on how goofy I look when I speak. What can I say? God gifted me with a rubber face. The nice way of saying this is that I’m very ‘expressive’. Yeah…whatever. Rubber. Face.