A Letter to My Son on Your 18th Birthday

 

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This picture basically sums up our relationship.

Dear Son,

 You’re 18, officially an adult, with all its privileges and heartache.

It seems like just yesterday, you were riding your bike (with the training wheels) around James Street, wearing your superhero cape I made you (that lighted up) as well as a giant sombrero I brought you back from Mexico, wearing that giant grin–so much fun.

No, I don’t have documentation of this moment. I have so many regrets.

Confession: I never thought that tooth was coming in.

On the day that you turn 18, I want to tell you:

18 doesn’t change who you are overnight. You are still you.

Your life spreads out before you like an open road. It’s just that now, the training wheels are gone.

Now that you are a “real” grownup,  here are some things you are allowed to do:

You can move out legally. You can vote. You can take responsibility for your own decisions, your own body, even your own life (or someone else’s, if you become a husband and dad).

You can get married, or divorced.

You can join the Marines. I remember when you toyed with the idea of this, and even visited a recruiter. Do you remember your dad’s advice when he said, “It’s a man’s decision with a man’s consequence?”

As are so many things.

You can apply for a credit card. You can sign a will, or donate your organs. You can serve on a jury of your peers, potentially taking the life of another human being into your own hands.

You can file a lawsuit against someone, and you can be sued.You can take a trip without my permission. You can make terrible decisions, and feel the painful consequences. You can make wonderful decisions, and reap the rewards.

All. Of. The. Things.

Here are some other things you can do, no matter your age:

You can be kind, even when kindness is not returned.

You can help others, even when they cannot or will not help you back.

You can love with your whole heart, or reserve a bit of your heart out of fear.

You can make promises or break them.

You can take responsibility or blame others.

You can be truthful or be a liar.

You can give 100% of your mind, body and soul, or you can halfheartedly commit.

You can be someone others can count on.

You can give to someone in need, even if they cannot pay you back.

The choices are yours to make.

 

I don’t have any doubts you can do this: live this life you’ve been given to the fullest. You’ve always been good at tackling the hard stuff.

Only sometimes, the hard stuff will try to break you.

At some point:

You will be severely disappointed. You will feel crushed, humiliated, defeated.

People will gossip about you.

At some point, you will love and not be loved in return.

Someday, you will work hard, sweating and climbing, and cutting your hands on the side of the mountain. Sometimes, even though your desire is strong, things don’t work out.

You will lose, and it will sting.

There’s a temptation to give up. To stay home and hide. To say, “This isn’t worth it.”

Please, please don’t let it. Don’t give up. Step into the sunshine. Trust again, even if it’s a risk. Do the hard things, because difficulty shapes you. Don’t quit, even if others try to discourage you. Determination carves your character and teaches you that those who take shortcuts will only short themselves. Sometimes, the only reason the man on top of the mountain is there is because somebody else gave up first. Sometimes, showing up when you don’t want to is half the battle.

But you know what else?

You will also experience great joy–times of such success and pride, you’ll wish the moment lasts forever.

You will love — and be loved in return.

You will work hard–blood, and sweat, and tears–and you will complete your task. You’ll stand on top–experiencing the view you have earned–and you’ll bask in the moment.

You’ll do a job well, and know you gave your all.

You’ll face the life-changing moment, and you’ll nearly kill yourself with effort, and when you’re finished you’ll know you’re a bit tougher. You’ll stretch yourself to the very limit of your endurance, and you’ll push through.

But again, you’ve got to make the choice to keep going, even when you don’t want to. Especially when you don’t want to.

In other words, put on that sombrero and Superman cape and take care of business. And that cape of yours will float on the wind.

And you will know that you have lived.

Love Always,

Mom

P.S.: I’m really glad that tooth finally grew in.

A Letter to My Son on His Graduation Day: On Being a Good Man

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Tim McGraw’s “Humble and Kind”

Dear Son,

Didn’t we both think this day was never going to come? But here it is, and I am entirely unprepared for all the feelings.

Of course, we both know your graduation means the end of an era.

It’s the end of sack lunches and marching band.

It’s the end of school dances and football games.

It’s the end of me signing your report cards.

It’s the end of my making you eat your vegetables.

(Side note: it’s also the end of my paying for your car insurance. I’ve been meaning to tell you).

It’s also a marvelous beginning.

I am so very proud of you, not just because of your academic accomplishments, but your character. You are kind, sometimes to a fault, and you’re always the first to ask how you can help someone.

This is rare, not just for your generation, but for the world we live in.

We live in a world that says:

“Me first.”

“How can I get what’s coming to me?”

“I deserve the best.”

“Look at me! Here I am, being awesome again!”

It’s difficult to rise above these urges.

As you leave high school behind and move to greater things, don’t for a second underestimate your power in this world.

Power begins with choices.

You’ll be making your own decisions about your career, your love life, and what kind of person you want to become. Yes, I know you think you’re all finished growing up, but believe me when I tell you, this is only the beginning.

Because you’ve managed to overcome much of this “me first” mentality, many will try to take advantage. Please don’t let them. It’s difficult to balance kindness and self-respect, but it must be mastered. It is part of loving yourself and embracing maturity.

Another part of maturity is responsibility. We hear so much about what it means to “be a man.” Many inflate masculinity to the point it becomes vulgar: a caricature of itself. They point to their conquests as a mark of manhood. They brag about pushups and athletic prowess over intelligence and sensitivity.

I’ve known many weak men, many selfish men, many corrupt and vulgar men, and a few truly good men.

Do your best to fall into that last category.

I know your dad has been a positive role model to you, and you are fortunate to have him. You were also lucky enough to have known your Papa, my daddy, for a few short years (not nearly, nearly enough). You’ve also been fortunate to have met good men in the form of family, teachers, coaches, and pastors. But, before you leave my nest, I want to make sure you hear this from a woman’s perspective.

On Being a Good Man

A good man knows when to apologize. He knows when to own up to his mistakes. He knows when to dig in, and when to let go.

A good man also knows how to treat a lady. It’s not just opening doors, although that is a good start. He is a good listener, even when the topic is not personally interesting. He knows how to be authentic, true. He loves when she is unlovable. He takes up for her even when she doesn’t deserve it. He is on her side.

He is intelligent enough to listen to other’s opinions, understanding how and when  to disagree respectfully and without insult, but he is also able to not internalize the negativity.

A good man knows how to help others, not just when he will receive accolades, but even when he knows helping will not benefit his own agenda. He helps others when they are too proud to ask. He helps others who don’t know how to ask. He does not expect or demand to be “paid back.”

A good man lets his moral code guide him. He listens to his conscience. He doesn’t cheat others or himself. He doesn’t lie to others or himself. He never steals from others; he only takes what he earns or is given freely. This goes for money, time, or love.

Speaking of love: a good man doesn’t force his intentions, agenda, or affections on anyone else. A good man doesn’t have to try too hard to be loved. He knows what “no” means, and he respects the word and the connotations behind it. He never pushes his advantage. In this way, he earns love and loyalty. When you become a husband, your heart becomes one with another. If you treat your wife as if she is part of you, most of the time you will do the right thing, though nobody is perfect.

When you are on your own in this world, you will be tempted in every way. A good man knows when he is in over his head, and when to look away or walk away. He knows when he’s crossed the line and when to ask for forgiveness. He’s not too proud to admit he’s failed, and he’s not afraid to dust himself off after falling.

A good man is not afraid to love with his whole heart. He understands to love this way is to open his heart for potential pain. He will almost certainly suffer, because it’s difficult to go against the grain of this world. He doesn’t let the hurt scar him, because he sees the good in others and gravitates toward this goodness. To display courage doesn’t mean you haven’t been wounded. It just means you have determined to not allow these wounds to  be fatal.

Not all good men will be fathers. Although I hope this gift comes to you when you are ready; it might not. Nature makes no sense regarding who she lets father a child.

Some men want to be dads more than anything, and for whatever cosmic reason cannot.

Some men father children who should not be allowed to take care of a houseplant.

Many men are given charge of children but don’t know (or choose not to) to guide them. It’s really not that difficult to be a good father. You just need to show up and take care of business. You love with your whole heart. You do what it takes to pay the bills and put food on the table. Nobody is perfect; you will make many mistakes, but if you love your kids that is what they will remember. Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself.

In a few days, you’ll walk across that stage, and you’ll move the tassel, signifying the end of childhood and the beginning of adulthood. You’ll leave childhood behind and take on adult responsibilities. You will make mistakes. you’ll fall and get up again. You will encounter great joy and indescribable pain. You will love.  You will lose: sometimes big and sometimes small. Some losses will be devastating–people you love. This, my son, is enough to make us want to give up.

I wish I could protect you from this, but I cannot.

I know you. You will, as Maya Angelou says, rise. You will stumble, and maybe fall again. But when you stand–you will run. You will fly.

You will not just fly–you will soar.

You’ll make your mark on this world.

The world has been changed by many men, both good and evil.

You will strive for the good, the pure, the authentic.

And you will be a good man.

 

 

 

 

On Authenticity and Servanthood on Facebook

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Sometimes I cannot believe Facebook. It looks like a high school yearbook! Everybody posts their kids awards, their husband’s promotions, a picture of the perfect peach pie. A post that demands you “like”  a picture of Jesus or scroll by and RISK YOUR VERY SOUL.

Sometimes, it’s too much.

To be fair, I’m guilty of this also–posting only the best moments from my life. Only showing the good side. I mean, nobody really wants to know the other stuff, do they? How my laundry looks like it’s been multiplying overnight and my son is mad at me. How I’m so stressed out I’m having trouble getting out of bed. How the holidays make me miss my dad so much I can taste it. How I had a disagreement with my husband, or daughters and it’s like Antarctica around here. That even the penguins are wearing jackets?

Nope. I’m likely not gonna share that on Facebook. First of all, it’s really not anybody’s business. Secondly, people don’t generally go on Facebook or social media because they are thinking,”You know what? I feel like being bummed out!” Or, “I feel like feeling inferior! Yes!”

On my page Nonpartisan Jesus, where I talk about authentic Christianity outside of political spectrums, I received a message from one of my acquaintances:

Maybe Jesus wants us to get off Facebook and follow him.

I’m not gonna lie. That one stung. I replied:

I’m not sure how/if Jesus thinks about Facebook much. However, since so many people use social media, doesn’t it make sense to try to make something positive of it?

On the flip side, I’m sure you might have a friend or two who shares every thought that comes to mind. The posts look something like this:

9:00 Thinking about coffee. #TheBestPartofWakingUp

9:05 Out of creamer. Have to go to the store. #Prayers

9:06 Can’t find a parking spot. Saw my pastor in the parking lot. #blessed

9:07 Walmart’s out of Folgers! AHHHHHH! #Agony

I somehow think this is worse.

Let’s face it–we all do it. We put on our best mask for Facebook. We only show the peanut butter sandwich with the crusts off. Everybody is guilty of this.

So what’s the alternative? How do we allow ourselves to be authentic without giving too much information? How do we share our struggles without seeming like we are looking for pity?How can we use Facebook as a ministry? Is it possible? 

Yes. We just have to be present.

For example, my friend Jennifer is the master of this. I’ll post something like:

Oh my gosh. Finals, errands, moving, planning a graduation party–I’m overwhelmed!

I have to admit, I might have seen the same post and kept scrolling. Of course it’s stressful to be moving around final exam times! That could have been better planned! Oh well.

Within seconds, I get a text:

Want to have the party at my house?

And I’m crying, unable to fathom what I’ve done to deserve such a sweet friend who would not only see a problem but propose a solution. A solution that creates work for her.

Jennifer has a servant’s heart. I have been the beneficiary of her heart many times over the years. It’s not easy to see somebody struggling and offer to help. It’s much easier to whine about Folger’s. It’s easy to like the Jesus post and ignore the friend who’s drowning.

Because of Jennifer, my girls had the nerdiest Star Wars Graduation blowout ever. For three hours, we invaded her house, bringing smelly tacos and balloons. For three hours, the girls and their friends walked around in Chewbacca masks, celebrating their achievement.

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Because Jennifer and Josh are the best friends ever.

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This year, I want to be more present. I want to be more proactive. I want to have a servant’s heart–seeing need and thinking a solution.

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Thank you, Jennifer and Josh. Thank you both for being Jesus on Facebook! You guys are the BEST and we love you.

But right now, I have to go. The dryer beeped because my fuzzy socks are ready. #blessed

A Letter to My Daughter on Her 25th Birthday

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25 years ago (and nine months), the pink stripe unmistakably proclaimed my suspicions that I was pregnant. Lee Bausinger and I had been married about six months, and we had about $5 to our name. If I remember correctly, we were living at a hotel in California (not THE Hotel California, just so you know), working for a few weeks until we would move to Winter Park, Florida where Lee would be attending Nuclear “A” School for the Navy.
Needless to say, I was worried. I worried about the pregnancy, I worried about gaining weight, I worried about moving so far from my beloved Arkansas. I worried about what kind of mama I was going to be. At 18 years old, let’s just say I knew diddly squat about parenting, and had in fact proclaimed to anyone who would listen that I wasn’t going to have kids. They are expensive. They do disgusting things like pick their noses. They go through a period where they don’t even know how to use the toilet! I shuddered to think of the implications.
But God knew better, and pregnant I was. If the test didn’t confirm it, my inappropriate consumption of bean burritos and Little Debbie snack cakes would have been a tipoff.
There were a few scares, as Miss Jody doesn’t like to be kept waiting. I was hospitalized and put on medication to stop premature labor. It was terrifying, and for the first time, I realized how precious this little life was. I realized there were no guarantees.
The labor took a long time, and I was young and dumb and didn’t know to ask for an epidural. When Jordanne Bausinger was born (it only took 18 hours), it was well before the due date. Jody likes to say she doesn’t like to be late. She was 8 pounds and had a gorgeous head of black hair. I took one look into those baby blues and lost my heart forever.
Those baby blues have long since deepened into a lovely green, much like my mother’s eyes, and her mother’s before her–a reflection of our stubborn Irish-Scotch ancestry.
Jody, I love you. I love your protective heart, your perfectionist attitude, the way you take on too much and don’t know when to stop (wonder where you get that?). I love your loyalty and your witty sense of humor. You are one of my greatest accomplishments. Happy birthday, Sweetheart. Next month, you graduate with a double major (Music Education and Performance) and the world will be set on fire when you storm the scene.
I can’t wait.
I know I will miss you when you leave to embrace your future, but I can’t be selfish anymore. It’s time to share you with the world.
I love you.

***

Want to read more like this? Check out Tina’s best-selling book on Amazon:

Tina Bausinger has published in Chicken Soup for the Soul, IN Magazine, and the Tyler Paper. She's working on her Ed.D at A&M Commerce.

Tina Bausinger has published in Chicken Soup for the Soul, IN Magazine, and the Tyler Paper. She’s working on her Ed.D at A&M Commerce.

Cold Coffee and Speed Limits

A Letter to My Daughter on Her Graduation Day

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My Dearest Daughter,

It’s hard to believe it’s already your graduation. It seems like just yesterday I was walking you into your first day of class.

I still remember your first day of kindergarten. Your blonde hair was pulled up in two ponytails, and you smelled of new clothes and bubble bath. You were so scared, you were shaking. Oh, wait, that was me.

Do you remember the advice I gave you? It’s funny how it still applies. It was something like this:

Be friendly to the other kids. They are nervous, too.

Play jump rope at recess. It’s good to get your heart pumping, and you will have at least two other girls to talk to.

Don’t throw away your sandwich and just eat the Twinkie. I will know.

Pay attention in class, mind your manners, and most importantly, don’t wait too long to go to the bathroom.

Don’t have secret friends or secret clubs. In general, don’t have secrets. If something feels wrong, it’s because it is.

Don’t volunteer to be the kid that takes names.

It’s nice to have a lot of friends, but don’t be close friends with people who have questionable character.

It’s true what they say: you can tell what kind of person you are by the friends you keep.

Don’t worry about stepping on cracks. I’ll be fine.

Don’t be too curious about the boy’s bathroom. Trust me, it’s not that great.

Sit in the middle of the bus. Sit too far in the front, and you are a nerd. Sit too far in the back, and you will learn another language. And it’s not Spanish.

If you have a substitute teacher, treat her with respect. Just because the other kids are swimming on the floor doesn’t mean you have to. It’s okay to be alone when you are right.

Don’t make fun of the weird kid. He has feelings, too.

Here are a few addendums:

Try to save some money. When rainy days come, they’re usually in the form of hurricanes.

Study hard. Don’t procrastinate. In case anyone tries to tell you otherwise, copying and pasting IS cheating.

Ramen noodles are not food. Ever.

Be as generous as you can with your time, your friendships, and your love. But at the same time, don’t be anyone’s doormat.

Don’t change yourself for anyone else. Who you are is fine. And don’t hang around with people who want you to change.

Don’t spend too much time trying to make someone love you. It should be easy. If they can’t appreciate the beauty of you, move on. You can’t make the blind see.

About love and marriage: don’t marry the one you can live with. Marry the one you can’t live without.

Decide what you love and do it. Don’t settle. This is success.

If you need help, ask. This goes for homework, bills, and personal struggles. It’s not a sign of weakness; it’s a sign of wisdom.

Love with your whole heart, holding nothing back. Sometimes you will get hurt this way, but it’s the only way. Anything less is cowardly.

Your family loves you. No matter how far you go, you know the way home. Always.

Love, Mom

Read more like this in Tina’s new book Cold Coffee and Speed Limits available on Amazon!

Tina Book Cover