Author: Michele Minehart (Page 155 of 311)

You know what they say

June 17, 2012 / Michele Minehart

They (the notorious, unknown “they”) say that a girl marries a man just like her father. Over six years ago I said phooey. My dad’s tall and slender stature was nothing like my linebacker-shaped husband. My dad over-thinks. I celebrated when my husband thought ahead. My dad firmly believed in the superiority of Miller Light and JJ blamed it for heartburn.

However, now I see the error of my ways. Like a owner & dog, they have an eerie similarity about them. Such as:

1. Hospitality. They both love hosting a group and go above and beyond to make sure everyone has seats, drinks and a clean and happy place to visit.

2. Quick wit. Be careful what you say around these two, they’ll find a way to use it against you.

3. Gravitational pull toward a cornhole or euchre game. If it’s available, they’re in. Most of the time, one of them instigates the match.

4. Snacky McSnackerson habits. If anyone opens a bag of salty and savory treat, they’ll each need a handful.

5. Exceptional fathering skills. Their children know they are loved, feel encouraged and enjoy them, choosing to spend time together not because they “should” but because they want to.

6. They continually encourage me not to be ashamed of who I am, but rather to live the best possible version of myself.

7. They take good care of me. I don’t have to take out the trash, but they challenge me to do enough that I know I’m capable to take care of myself.

8. Faithfulness. I often joke that both of them have the loyalty of a dog. While it’s possible to upset them or hurt their feelings, you can’t just cut them off. Their friends and family matter and they’re not relational quitters.

I’m lucky to have such strong men in my life. I’m grateful my children do as well. (And if anyone out there knows both my husband and my father, I’d love to hear how you think they’re similar!)

Going to the chapel

June 16, 2012 / Michele Minehart

It’s T-2 hours until the bride walks down the aisle and I’ve had a sense of excited-nervous for at least half the day. I can’t help it. I. love. weddings.

Not all weddings, mind you. I am of the camp, based on the divorce rate, that we’re having too many. Or, at least too soon. But not this one, the next one or the last few I’ve witnessed. I’ve had a string of beautiful, amazing couples stand before friends and family who I believe embody the spirit of love and marriage.

Sometimes it’s that look of adoration by the groom when he sees his bride for the first time. Sometimes it’s the hiccups of ceremony and how the congregation graciously forgives nerves. Now that I’ve crossed a big age barrier, it could be the hopeful youthfulness of the couple. The last wedding it was the vows the couple penned, which made a statement of how they had watched and learned from their own parents’ and grandparents’ marriages, most of which were in attendance, relationships in full bloom. Not often today can a couple find a heritage of lasting marriages on both sides of the family, and JJ and I consider ourselves fortunate to be counted in that group.

Mostly I love weddings because I love marriage. It’s beautiful. I don’t buy into Jerry Maguire’s “You complete me” philosophy – I see each person complete in his or her own shape. I once gave a talk and shared the imagery of shoes: young people often go around feeling like they’re a shoe looking for its match. But no, we are, by ourselves, a pair of shoes, perfectly capable of running and completing a race.

Marriage means tying your laces with another pair with a huge honkin’ knot. The bigger and tighter the knot, the better. The more secure.

Of course, this means you’ll have to slow your pace a bit to learn how to run in sync. And the only way out is to cut the laces, which means that though you can tie them again, there’s still a piece missing.

So why do it? Why be bound up? Where’s the beauty that you mentioned two paragraphs ago?

I love the faith of it all. The trust. My cynical nature needs a drink of love water from time to time and a good wedding is like a fountain. Marriages become statements of faith, and saying “I do” to another person resembles the decision we made at one point in time or another about Jesus. No one is making guarantees about the ease of the road ahead. Indeed, we can be sure that our circumstances and even our personalities and who we are at our core, may (and probably will) change over time. But faithfulness rises above circumstances.

It’s been several years now since I watched this young man raise his hand to indicate that he was ready for God to move into his life. And today I’ll watch him slip a ring onto the finger of a beautiful woman and promise to never leave or forsake. I believe that as each of those oaths are lived out, they will strengthen the other. And the process of seeing them grow will be nothing less than a beautiful struggle.

Learning to succeed at failure

June 15, 2012 / Michele Minehart

I learned at Youth Director Camp that when it comes to helping develop people, it’s best to “set them up for success.” We were trained to put our volunteers and students in positions to do things well so they feel the energy that comes from completing a task. The theory says: by experiencing success, people will be inspired to try again in new endeavors. I believe it’s mostly true.

That being said, I’ve noticed a tendency in myself to set my kids up for failure. Kinda a little on purpose mostly.

Don’t get me wrong, I celebrate with my kids on their achievements. Just yesterday Miss M put her pants on (tag in the back!) by herself and high fives flew. They regularly hear how they are good helpers, good listeners, big boy/girls, and how I appreciate how they try so hard and listen so well.

But on the whole, when my kids ask me to do something for them, I request that they first try themselves. Sometimes more than once. When it’s clear they won’t accomplish their goal, I tell them that perhaps with some practice they’ll be able to do it someday, but I’m glad to help them right now.

Full disclosure: I do this with tasks in which I’m well aware they cannot succeed.

Perhaps it seems cruel. LP would probably inform me of the detriment to their psyche. However, I have little interest in how well they can actually climb into a swing or take the lid off of a toy. When they reach the ability to master the feat, I’m not sure I’ll propose a parade. While I do believe that we must celebrate life’s accomplishments – I’m all for a good party – I think we more often fail at failing.

My goal in parental-induced failures: to flounder enough that failing doesn’t scare them. I hope missing the mark won’t paralyze their attempts at trying. I believe, to an unknown extent, that by experiencing failure regularly, it will take the sting off. Perhaps not all the time, or in life’s gut check situations, but on the whole, I dream for times when my kids come face-to-face with an idea and someone says, “but you might fall!” that they can respond, “yeah, I might” while proceeding to give it a try. I hope that they remember how the momentary hurts fade into the background, especially when they succeed with a second, third or eighth attempt.

It’s not a foolproof plan. It could completely backfire. I could totally change my tune when they start setting sights on plans that include sharp objects, moving out on their own or large sums of money. And I’m not oblivious to the fact that helping them learn to fail well means allowing them to watch when I stumble and fall. It includes the lesson of how to get up gracefully and with dignity – and neither of those mean that you have to do it without tears. Hurt and pain and disappointment are real and allowed, but not the end of the story.

So if you see me refusing to open the pickle jar or button pants or put them atop a ladder, don’t be too alarmed. They’re learning a valuable lesson. And I’m sure after my first trip to the ER, I will too.

Author: Michele Minehart (Page 155 of 311)

You know what they say

Going to the chapel

Learning to succeed at failure

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