Yeah. That’s what it said. No joke.

 

    I’ll admit - I don’t feel entirely comfortable about the whole thing. What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to feel? This is my wee-one whom I raised. This is the one I worried and fretted over when she was sick. And now some dude --- some college-I-probably-don’t-even-shower-regularly-dude is calling my daughter “Hon?” No. I don’t like it a bit.

         We were on Facebook just now --- Tayte and I ---- innocently checking out my oldest daughter’s photos and seeing how she’s doing. That’s where I got this photo of her (pictured on the left) with her roommie, Christy (on the right, of course.) And one guy had written something --- I’m not sure what --- because really my mind just kind of froze at “HON!!!!!!!!!” He called her “Hon?” I’m sure they’re not even dating --- heaven forbid. This is my baby. Nobody calls my baby “Hon” without marrying her first, with all that that entails --- like having a job, a future, a home, etc.

 

        My poor, dear, sweet, innocent baby has entered the world. I’m in shock.

 

               She’s in shock. She writes me and tells me so. It’s her first exposure to American-teen culture and so far she wants out faster than is possible. It’s a crude culture, to be honest, it is - even among Christian teens. Clothing is inappropriate. Language is inappropriate. People are often mean (in a nice way) --- like putting other people down when they’re not in the room, gossiping, etc.    

 

                    My kids were raised in a shell, on purpose.

 

        Because I was raised in the ‘80s.

 

                And I was in shock by the age of 12. I knew more about sex at the age of 12 then most women did on their wedding night (or first anniversary) fifty years ago. And I hung with the “good” kids. I was a cheerleader. Went to church. ETc. ETc. Blah. Blah. Prayed.      But I still had more tongues down my throat by the age of 14 ~ that it’s a wonder I didn’t choke. I had heard every swear word, seen every gory-chop-you-up-and-chase-you-on-halloween-or-while-you’re-camping film there was. That was called a teen “party” night ---woo-hoo. I promised myself that I wouldn’t do the same to my kids. That I wouldn’t subject them to premature innocence-wreckers. No matter what.

 

       And I succeeded. They were raised in a shell. Bry didn’t move to Africa until she was 11 so I even succeeded in the States. In 2004, Christmas, when they were ages 15, 12 and 9 (the older ones) --- we had a box that I wrapped Christmas presents in --- a packing box that had come from town --- and it had been used for shipping stuff to Kitale and on it was written (like a code) “FCK” --- several places. So the kids read it. And ---- well, they read it like “FCK” but with a vowel “u” in between. And so they kept saying it over and over and over and over and over . . . Fck, Fck, Fck, Fck and Fck.

               “That’s a funny sounding word, mom,” one said, smiling, saying it over and over and then again.

 

          Brian and I just looked at each other and tried not to laugh. Here they were at 15, 12 and 9 and they honestly did not know that word. They didn’t know swear words at all. They thought “stupid” was a swear word since I had told them NEVER to say it --- especially with regard to another person.

 

              My kids grew up on Barney, Donut Mat, The Jungle Book, Peter pan, Mary Poppins, Sounds of Music ---- okay, eventually - yes, Star Wars.

                         But still. It’s okay.

 

                   And now some freaky dude who probably has greasy hair and doesn’t brush his teeth when he should is calling my daughter “Hon.”

 

WWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT???????????????????

 

 

Yes, she needs to go college. And yes, she’s at a pretty “tame” college --- College of the Ozarks ---- and yes, she’s 18 so she does eventually have to join the world’s culture, or at least be iN it.    I can’t postpone life.    I guess I’m glad she’s shocked at 18 (repulsed, perhaps) than at 12, though.

 

          It’s time. I’m not going to deny that it’s time my wee-one gets introduced to the world. And I know there are people out there who will say and believe that I did her a disservice in protecting and defending her innocent mind while she grew up. But I disagree. I disagree. I disagree. Innocence is a treasure that most people never get to keep. And, sure, I understand the downfalls of innocence because I’ve tried to keep an innocent mind myself by making choices on what I read, see, watch, listen to, befriend, etc. and SURE ______ I’ve been roped once or twice myself just because I gave someone the benefit of the doubt and didn’t have “street-wisdom” --- and she might get roped herself but (since I was roped and now know what to look for) hopefully I’ve taught her what to look for in people so as to make a wise decision about who to trust. That you can’t just trust someone because they tell you what you want to hear or go to church, whatever. Hopefully she’s wise-yet-innocent.

 

 

That’s what I’ve tried to do in raising my kids. I don’t keep everything from them --- -I just don’t allow them to be bombarded by crud through media, social circles, music ---- early on, like our culture allows. God knows how many “boy-girl” talks I’ve had with the kids on what to look for. In my latest book, Keeping it Real, I spend 3 whole chapters just on talking to the “naive” girls about what to be aware of ---- innocence isn’t necessarily being “naive.” I like innocence. I hate it when people tell nasty jokes or talk mean about others. But I’m fortunate. Because I don’t live in a college culture where the status quo is . . . well, trying to prove how “big” you are by how “lude” you can be, and disrespectful. Not that all college students are like that. But it’s kind of like the pinch of arsenic in the pot. It spoils the whole stew. And when you’re all thrown in there together --- in a class --- work situation - whatever, and just a few must PROVE their “bigness” by being so “little and immature” . . . well, the pot doesn’t taste so good anymore.

 

 

 

          I don’t blame my daughter for not embracing and loving her new culture. Although I believe she needs to be there and that getting a degree is important. As a mom, my heart goes out to her. I think ---- well, I wouldn’t be surprised --- if God Himself has similar feelings toward us, His children, sometimes . .. when He sees what we so often hear, see and face. I wonder how God feels when He reads our Facebook entries. When He sees our innocence defaced at the hands of another person whom He made and loves. I wonder if He gets upset.  I wonder how He feels. I know how I feel. And I better not see that boy who called my daughter “Hon” ------------- EVER.  :)