Author: Lucretia Cahill

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness, Other, Parenting/Running/Pets, siblings

A running partner to remember

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

LENTEN BLOG #18

For about ten years, I was faithful to one running partner.

Misty, a Labrador/Chow mix arrived on my Washington, DC doorstep one snowy day in the middle of February. I took her to the veterinarian, placed signs around the neighborhood and called the local Humane Society to find out if anyone had lost a black puppy about 4 months old. After receiving no response, Misty had found her home. As she grew, we covered many miles as best friends and running partners.

Over the years, we ran through Rock Creek Park, circled numerous neighborhoods, and maneuvered the National Mall and DC’s bustling 16th street. We dodged bikes, crossed busy streets and waved at fellow runners.

It was our time. My time to exhale from the day. Misty’s time to listen. Running has a way of adjusting the focus of life’s lens, making the world seem more crisp, more profound, more accessible.

Some days Misty would squeeze sprints in as she dashed after squirrels or chipmunks.  She ran with a purpose and always pushed me (or pulled me) to keep up. Although her sniffing breaks broke our stride, Misty and I were never aiming to set our PR together.

We just ran, because running brings a healthy void. A place where our mental oversized baggage (which never fits in the overhead bin) somehow becomes lighter with each step.

When I was expecting our daughter, I was initially hesitant to run with such precious cargo, but after reading about the benefits of exercise during pregnancy, I knew running would continue to be a priority in my life. So for six months, our baby, Misty and I enjoyed running together. As my energy waned and stomach grew, our runs turned to walks. 

Then I became a mom. A mom to a beautiful, loving baby.  When she smiled her eyes twinkled, nose wrinkled and chin dimpled. “She’s going to be a runner,” I thought. She’d have a good laugh at that today. 

I continued to run. Misty and I ran on Saturdays when she would stop to sniff a mystery spot or sprint towards a squirrel. My daughter and I ran at home, kind of. I ran on the treadmill while she rested in her crib or sat in her bouncy chair.  She watched her musical mobile, which I managed to keep going, by jumping off the treadmill every 4 minutes or so to rewind it.

I said it was a long time ago.

Since then, my husband slows his pace and joins me for a run and at least one of our boys runs the traditional Thanksgiving 5K or 10K with me. Our sweet dogs have found their “inner Misty” as I call it and they pull me along on runs as well. My daughter, now a strong swimmer, makes amazing signs, cheers us on, and laughs way too hard when I ask her to run with me. 

Misty has been gone for years now and I miss her dearly. But I’ve never stopped running and pray I’ll always have the drive, strength, knees and sweet Misty memories to help me RUN ON.

Spiritual Workout: Pray for those who can’t run or walk and count your blessings.

Workout: Find a friend or dog to walk or run with. It’s cathartic. 

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness, Parenting/Running/Pets, siblings

Go ahead, roll the window down…

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

LENTEN BLOG #17

It’s amazing what you see when you look up from your blue screen…

Our children’s sporting events have taken us to baseball fields, swimming facilities, cross-country courses, soccer fields, and mountain bike trails all over the state. As we drive, I frequently remind the kids to take in their surroundings, identify landmarks, and appreciate the landscape. Really, all I do is holler, “Look out the window!”

The other day as I drove my son to his baseball game, we chatted about the rise and fall of our NCAA brackets, whether we had packed enough Goldfish Crackers, and his latest science test.

I pointed out a sprawling patch of daffodils dripping gold over the side of the highway, a splintered billboard with faded lettering, and a well-preserved one-room schoolhouse that stood with solidarity and character smack in the middle of a cemetery. “Yep,” he said, as I pointed out each one, “I saw it last time we drove here.” He continued, “Yeah when we passed the school house I wondered why it was in the middle of a cemetery.” We made a chicken and egg reference and continued to the field.

I was happy he saw the world in real-time rather than through a screen.

On our family road trips in the ’70s and ’80s, I sat in the off-kilter center seat of our big white station wagon. The middle spot between Mom and Dad which even with just a lap belt felt safe because of my seatmates. I was in charge of the little tiny Kleenex box on the dashboard and securing the trash bag on the lighter.

As we traveled from New Mexico to Arizona, Las Vegas, Disneyland, the Grand Canyon or wherever we could, we’d sing, and play car games. Trips were always peppered with bickering as expected with four girls, so in pinch, mom or dad would hit the On the fly parenting button and come up with contests. My favorite was, “The first person to see a deer will get an ice cream cone!” 

As we peered out our windows, searching for the deer, we were treated with scenes of bison, prairie dogs, elk, and antelope. Our vision focused more on the topography and less on the confines of the station wagon, even though we had the roomy way, way back. Ultimately, we all got ice cream.

As they say, technology is a blessing and a curse. (“they” might be my mom)

Today it’s tricky to teach children to yank out the headphones and lift their gaze. Perhaps we peered out of our car windows more growing up because we didn’t have anything to look down to.

Bottom line: our lives are going to zoom by whether we’re ready or not, so while you can roll the window down, let the wind hit you in the face and soak up your surroundings.

Spiritual Workout: 5-minute meditation. Clear your mind. Just 5 minutes.

Workout of the Day:

On your next drive, find a new trail to hike, walk or run.

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness, Parenting/Running/Pets

Trump. Defined.

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Blog #16

I love words, research, and storytelling.

When I was a kid, finding definitions involved a physical and mental investment.

During homework, if we said, “Mom! What’s a _________?” Before we could even get the word out, mom, a fierce believer in fostering independence in each of us, would holler, “Look it up!”. Then the work began.

Finding the definition meant we had to get up from studying and lug the Big-Red-Webster-Dictionary to the kitchen table. Then we’d have to recall our dictionary skills and how to use the guide words at the top and flip through the thinnest paper ever invented to find the word. Researching was a workout too. It meant poring through our Big-Brown-Encyclopedias. They were like a tangible Google with gold letters on the spine and significant GIRTH.

Today, I can ask Google, Alexa or Siri facts and definitions, or I can sit and physically type words into the computer (exhausting. Ha.)

This week I was intrigued by certain verbiage which crept into the news. Although not complicated or extraneous, the words seemed to intertwine in an odd and sad way.

Words like bullying, prisoner of war, president, disparaging and Trump.

According to a story on NPR’s Morning Edition, Among False Claims, Trump Attacked McCain For Failing Veterans,Trump spoke about Senator McCain,

“I gave him [McCain] the kind of funeral that he wanted, which as president I had to approve…I don’t care about this. I didn’t get [a] thank you. That’s OK. We sent him on the way, but I wasn’t a fan of John McCain.”

In response to this statement, Georgia’s Johnny Isakson, chairman of the Senate Veterans’ Affairs Committee told Georgia Public Broadcasting,

“It’s deplorable what he said — it will be deplorable seven months from now, if he says it again, and I will continue to speak out…We’re all Americans. There aren’t Democratic casualties and Republican casualties on the battle field there are American casualties and we should never reduce the service that people give to this country.”

It broke my heart hearing such harsh words toward Senator McCain who passed away August 25, 2018. After all, he was a son, father, husband, soldier, public servant, prisoner of war and ultimately an American hero.

Unfortunately, when it comes to choosing words, our new normal seems to give the President carte blanche, no matter how cruel.

Our kids are teenagers now and very aware of the words they hear at school, in songs, on the internet, on the bus, and on the news. They are old enough to decide how they want to communicate and the words they will choose.

They always say the single lesson learned from our current president is what NOT to say. 

Instead, as a family, we’ve decided to stay the course and share words like mercy, grace, and empathy. These are the words that matter. The words to live by and teach our children. 

After listening to a podcast with my son about aspiring 2020 presidential candidates, he eloquently stated, “We need a change, someone who gets it. Something entirely new. A new voice.”

Now those are words worth listening to…

By the way, Here’s Trump. Defined.

According to vocabulary.com.

To trump is to outrank or defeat someone or something, often in a highly public way. … Originally trump implied a deceptive form of victory involving cheating, but that sense has been largely lost, though it’s still around in the term trumped up, meaning something that’s been falsely made up.

Spiritual Journey: Pray you always choose the right words.

Workout: I’m going for a run, the sun is finally out. Get outside!

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness, Parenting/Running/Pets

Hit the squirrel…

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

I didn’t hit the squirrel. Here’s what happened.

A few days ago I was reminded of the Seinfeld episode where George explains the unspoken agreement between drivers and pigeons.

Car (to the pigeons): Here I come.

Pigeon: Here comes a car, I’m going to move.

So if pigeons have an accord with drivers, surely the birds mentioned the deal to the squirrels.

Today’s blog is much like a Seinfeld episode – a blog about nothing. But what’s life without a lot of nothing mixed in with the stuff we take too seriously? Anyway, I love telling stories and you just might relate.

I was driving to pick up my daughter at swim practice and a squirrel darted into the road. I’m driving a RED car so you would think he would see it coming (no, I don’t know if they see color). Once in the middle, the squirrel decided to sit in a squirrel prayer position and have a snack! As I drove closer, I began reasoning with it, which then turned into yelling through the closed windows AT the squirrel. He was definitely not listening.

I came to a SEMI-screeching halt (I’m a pokey driver) and stopped immediately in front of him. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I was relieved I didn’t cause a mini-van pile up in my attempt to save a life. Still, in no hurry, the squirrel dusted himself off, packed up his leftovers and casually strolled away. Kind of like those deliberately sluggish pedestrians who, unlike most chickens, seem to have NO reason to get to the other side.

Anyway, I gave a brave squirrel one more life, when in fact…

I was supposed to hit the squirrel.

HERE’S WHY:

Earlier in the year, my daughter and I took a Defensive Driving Course where the students were taught to maneuver around cones, drive in rainy conditions (it conveniently rained the whole day) and really feel the Anti-lock brake system in our car. In the parking lot, she was a natural. I was a wreck.

One of the main lessons they instilled in the student drivers was when an animal runs in the road, never. ever. swerve. Always “HIT THE SQUIRREL”.

During class, a street scene was set up to give the students a stopping point as they were directed to “floor it” toward the barricade.

Cones were set up to represent squirrels and trashcans were people. Once the driver is close, they follow the cue of the instructor who swings his hands to one side or the other. The student is directed to lock the steering wheel in that direction, step COMPLETELY on the brake, and NOT HIT anything unless it’s the squirrel. They stressed, “Someone could rear-end you if you were only thinking of the squirrel.” As always, the instructor followed up with a heartbreaking story about a car that swerved to miss a puppy, hit another car and the puppy was the only survivor.” Geez.

About 20 virtual squirrels were killed that day. I missed mine (they had parents try too) only because I illegally used my brakes prior to the stop. The “you messed up and used your brakes” oversized red flag was waved noting my mistake.

Deep down I know it’s better to power through an animal when driving and unfortunately so does the soul of the raccoon who stared me down as I drove my parents 1998 Buick over it. We were returning from the Grand Canyon and I assured the kids I DID NOT hit it.

Then I went to confession.

For some reason, the squirrel needed another chance. Most days, we all do.

When I arrived at swim, Cora got in the car and I said, “I didn’t hit the squirrel”.

“YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO HIT THE SQUIRREL!”

Once again, I was corrected by my 16-year-old. And once again, she was right. Darn it.

Spiritual journey: Say a prayer to St. Francis, the Patron Saint of Animals – pray for all animals. Pray, they realize the side of the street they are on is really the best choice.

Workout: When you walk or run today, watch for fast drivers. Not everyone stops for squirrels OR runners. Be safe.

 

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness, Parenting/Running/Pets, siblings

Heaven can wait

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

After a recent move from Washington, DC and church shopping for a good year, we finally settled on St. Joseph’s Catholic Church. It was cozy, diverse and close to home.

Following a Saturday evening mass, we discussed the homily with the kids on the drive home. It was a mediocre effort to summon thoughts from our children and see if anything other then the weekly pew fight was absorbed.

The sermon was very straightforward, essentially about going to heaven, practicing repentance and doing the right thing. At one point, Father Michael asked the congregation to raise their hands if they wanted to go to heaven.

I looked down one side of the pew and saw our eldest daughter and son with their waving hands straight up in the air, then glanced at our 5-year-old, Zavier whose tiny digits were tucked away under his legs, eyes staring at me shaking his head adamantly.

His brother and sister, in their loud church whispers, glared at him and with disappointed voices uttered, “ZAVIER! You HAVE to raise your hand!” He readjusted his hands under his legs, sat up straight and stared up at the altar.

On the drive home, more curious than concerned, I asked the question again with the long drawn out vowel sounds kids love. “Sooooo, WHOOOO wants to go to heaven?” Dexter who is 7 and Cora, 8 both entrenched in Catechism hollered, “I do”, with zeal in their voices.

Zavier again shook his head, and in his outside voice said, “NOPE, I DON’T want to go to heaven.”  With her well-trained third grade “you’re such a dummy” tone, Cora yelled, “YOU DON’T?!”  

Zavier took a look around the van at all of us and finally announced, “No. I don’t want to go to heaven, ’cause I just don’t want to move AGAIN!”

That said, we all breathed a sigh of relief, gave our compassionate “we get it” nods and drove home. Logical thinking for a little guy. I mean, we all love the thought of eternal happiness but moving really is exhausting.

Mind and body workout – Meditate for 5 minutes. Pray for those who have moved to heaven, may they know how profoundly they are missed. 

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness, Parenting/Running/Pets

Why all kids need their thing…

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

LENTEN REFLECTION #13

Today at work, I walked with a first grader to the classroom. The tousled-hair blonde with sweet, aqua eyes looked down at his untied sneakers and uttered, “I still don’t know how to tie my shoes…I mean, I just don’t have time, you know (dramatic pause) now that I play baseball.” He caught my eye to make sure I fully grasped the play ball part. I gave him an understanding, “I KNOOOW, you’ve got a lot to do!” response and he gave me the kid nod that said, “finally, someone gets it.”

Clearly, he was a busy guy. Way too busy to mess with shoe strings and all that tying. Baseball was his priority now and talking about it made him beam. He wanted to share who he was and by letting me know he was a baseball player, he was pleased with himself and satisfied I heard it from him first.

We all need our thing. Something that drives us. Something that makes us jump out of bed and start the day with a spark. Does it define who we are? Maybe. It certainly tells more of our story. And kids? Kids really need their “thing”. Kids need to get out and experience. Whether in an organized sport or class or just playing with friends on the playground. They need opportunities for socializing and developing who they are and what they love.

Growing up for me in the sports world, it was soccer or soccer. As the fourth of four girls, you just follow the pack and my sister who is closest in age to me was a soccer player, therefore, so was I. We had two practices a week, ate dinner together and always went to each other’s games toting sliced oranges and water.

Nowadays, there are so many choices for kids. From soccer to fencing, mountain biking to curling. Practices for us end as late as 9:00 pm. Some nights, dinners are eaten at different times, homework sits on the back burner simmering patiently and Justin and I feel like we are constantly driving somewhere.

Thank God. Thank God they found something they care about and enjoy.

Naturally, over the years our kids have dabbled in a lot to find out what makes them tick. In the process, we’ve had: acoustic guitars, bass guitars, ukeleles, soccer cleats, keyboards, lacrosse goals, baking tools, chorus, piano music, gymnastics, basketball high tops, hockey pucks, baseball gloves, frisbee golf goals, shuttlecocks, tennis rackets, catcher’s gear, football helmets, swim goggles, orienteering shoes, toe shoes, tap shoes, ballet shoes, running shoes, metal cleats, turf cleats, unicycles, mountain bikes, skateboards, Ripsticks, bows, arrows, quivers, fishing rods, dart boards, ping pong balls,  and more I may have forgotten.

I certainly am not complaining. I am so grateful they have WANTED to try so many things and happy we’ve been able to afford them the chance. They’ve settled on (but are not limited to) swimming, baseball and mountain biking plus cello, saxophone, and trumpet…a well-rounded crew.

So let them try. Let them fail. Let them know they have to give it more than a week. Tell them to power through the whole season because there is a team or group depending on them and life is about teamwork and persevering.

I know we’re busy, but as I say, it’s a good busy. It’s a time where we can relish in our children’s successes, see them win, lose, fall, get up and be there just in case they need us or a Bandaid.

My first-grade friend who is simply too busy to bother with tying shoes figured out what makes him happy as all kids should.

Spiritual Workout: Go to confession –

Confession flashback! Remember when we would state all of our sins and at the end, were taught to say, “I am sorry for all my sins and those I MAY have forgotten? Was that a confession loophole?

Workout: play with your kids today, they will LOVE it.

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness, Parenting/Running/Pets

Prayer and pain

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

LENTEN REFLECTIONS #12

I went for a run today and thought about the power of prayer. How calm, meditative thought can really center the mind body and spirit. Yes! I’ve got it! I’m definitely going to write about prayer.

After about 200 yards, my mindset shifted quicker than a teenager’s mood (from what I’ve heard). I made my first turn and the same ankle pain I’ve had for a few years sent me a nasty gram reminding me to stop overusing it. I ignored it, hence the name runonmom.com, and kept going. Did the pain subside? A little. It went on its own journey to my knee, hip and settled in the ankle. But you run on, right? And it could always be worse.

Pain is subjective. Things are going to hurt. At every doctor’s appointment, there are four vital signs which are assessed:  body temperature, blood pressure, pulse (heart rate), and breathing rate (respiratory rate).

“In 2001, the Joint Commission rolled out its Pain Management Standards, which helped grow the idea of pain as a “fifth vital sign.” It required healthcare providers to ask every patient about their pain, given the perception at the time was that pain was undertreated.” (MedLife)download

Tough assessment. What if my pain level of “6” is your “2”.

 

What about our kids? Last week while at the pediatrician, I shockingly had time to sit and overanalyze the smiley face chart designed for children 3 and older to facilitate communication about, you guessed it! Pain.download2

Again, it’s going to vary. My frowny face might be your googly-eyed happy face. However, if I was a six-year-old in the doctor’s office with the prospect of skipping out with a couple Bugs Bunny Bandaids, I’m going 8, 9 or 10. No Brainer.

Each of us has a tolerance level. I wonder how little paper cuts can hurt SO much. The pain radiates! I’m all for going green, but sometimes I think I want to go paperless just to avoid the paper cuts. So my pain threshold might be pretty low.

Yesterday I stubbed my toe (!) and I asked God (nicely) why he made my little pinky toe fit perfectly between a door jam.  As Charlie’s brother would say, “IT REALLY HURT”. Following the stub, I’m always shocked when I can hop away from the door on the opposite foot (the one with the bad ankle). God is pretty crafty.

Prayer and pain. We pray for our friends who suffer from pain, our family members who have chronic pain, and everyone who walks through life hiding it.

I pray any emotional, physical or mental pain you feel subsides.

Run on. Pray more.

 

 

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

On the fly parenting

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

LENTEN REFLECTION #11

95% of parenting happens on the fly. At the first squeal of our sweet babies, we begin sculpting our parenting styles.

Do we breastfeed? In public? Supplement with formula? Soy? Rice? Buy gender-neutral toys? Dolls? Barbies for boys? Co-sleep? Let them cry? Baby Bjorn? Sling? Fanny pack? (It’s been a while).

The number of decisions we are faced with is stifling, but somehow we make them and move on to the next. Lord knows we don’t have a choice.

As soon as you pack up the crib and post a review about what a bad idea the Diaper Genie was, you’re at the DMV praying your child fails the permit test.

They age, our necks age and we start making rules. Or in my case making UP rules (some).

Rule structuring can be based on instilling values and traditions we grew up with, going rogue, or finding a happy medium. We are going for hybrid “Prius parenting” (I made that up too). Our goal is to keep family and religion at the center with real-world 2019 stuff (controlled social media, etc.) orbiting. All laced with pop-up lessons on sarcasm to keep things interesting.

Each day I find myself making up new rules (shhh) and I often wonder if  know my parents did the same. Did anyone else’s parents say,

  • no singing at the dinner table
  • no dating until you’re 16 AND a junior in high school (definite last minute decision for my sister with a summer birthday)
  • we take turns opening Christmas presents ONE. AT. A. TIME.
  • do not use a gift until you’ve sent a thank you note

My favorite was a combo never EVER look behind you OR point in church. (Not sure what would happen, but I didn’t want to find out).

They were all good rules, don’t get me wrong. I just know they happened on the fly. I can picture mayhem one Christmas morning when my sisters and I woke up, saw our presents and starting opening all at once. There wasn’t much around the tree so my parents did the smartest thing, open one at a time. It lengthened our morning fun and helped us appreciate the power of ‘good things come to those who wait’. Boy was it hard.

My husband and I agree on most rules. Sometimes I make them in a panicked frenzy like, “No TV until you’re nine.” Why nine? Who knows? My daughter came home from Kindergarten one day talking about a Little Mermaid she saw on TV at school. From my reaction, you’d have thought the teacher had shown Silence of the Lambs. I was more than a little annoyed. Luckily I have a twin-engine helicopter I use for parenting and I fired up the rotors. It didn’t happen again until 1st grade. Grrrr…

This brings me to my one on the fly rule which has served everyone well (so far). It happened when crafting my daughter’s middle school schedule in 5th grade.

Me: “What instrument would you like to play?”

Cora: “None, thank you.”

Me: “This year you can just try an instrument and see what you think because…”

HERE IT COMES – ON THE FLY RULE MAKING – WAIT FOR IT

“You will ALL play an instrument in middle school.” 

Cora is still playing cello five years later. Our boys play saxophone and trumpet. It worked.

Music is part of what makes our lives whole and when you’re a teenager trying to carve out who you are, being able to strum a chord, play an arpeggio, or be the cello in a quartet is priceless. I love that our kids can play mezzo forte, understand a fermata, count 1/16th notes, know how to play Dvorak and Normandy Beach and talk about music, together. Their instruments may need dusting, but they sure play well.

Who knows, perhaps the morals and quick thinking rules we impose on our children will someday bring the harmony our world so desperately needs.

Spiritual Workout Combo: Run or walk and say a rosary at the same time.

Modification: Walk, get fresh air and open your thoughts to God. Just chat.

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

University Entrance: Liars and cheaters use side door only

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

LENTEN REFLECTIONS #10

Years ago after watching a packed James Bond movie, only a few of the audience exited through a side door labeled EXIT ONLY, which led directly to the parking lot. My husband did a crafty Bond somersault as if dodging bad guys and it was just one more reason I knew I married a cool guy. He pushed the door open and there was our car.

It was the easy way out.

Typically side doors are EXIT ONLY. If someone sneaks IN the side door, another someone has to open the door for them, rendering them both at fault for wrongdoing.

Here’s where I’m going with my side door analysis:

This week’s biggest news story centered around the corruption and cheating in the college admissions process.

According to an interview on NPR,

“Between 2011 and 2018, wealthy parents paid Rick Singer, the head of a foundation and a for-profit admissions consulting service, more than $25 million. Singer would then use that money to pay a ringer to take the SAT or ACT for children or correct their answers. He’d also bribe Division 1 coaches.”

According to Joseph Bonavolonta, special agent in charge of the Boston FBI, “More than 30 parents flaunted their wealth to cheat the system and set their children up with the best education their money could buy…Some spent anywhere from 200,000 to $6.5 million for guaranteed admission. Their actions were, without a doubt, insidious, selfish and shameful.”

Aha! A virtual “elite college” SIDE DOOR held open by Rick Singer, coaches, and others allowing these high school graduates into universities without the rigamarole the rest of the world endures.

The disturbing part of this mess (and there are many) is most of these kids have no interest in college and are swiping spots away from numerous high school graduates who DO want to go to college.

While most teenagers were filling out applications, writing essays, HONESTLY laboring over the SAT and ACT tests, and actually sweating from the sports they REALLY played, these wealthy students were settling into their Instagram-ready dorm rooms unscathed and unphased.

This may be the one time our 4-year-old selves can yell out “NOT FAIR” and be completely right.

When I grew up my parents would and still do anything for us, IF it was the right thing to do. On the weekends, we would schlepp along with Mom and Dad and help maintain our rental properties. We painted, cleaned, and weeded. We hammered, held ladders and climbed. We worked. We learned. Ultimately, we understood what hard work meant. There’s a saying in Spanish mom would throw out when she noticed we were slacking. “No se sopla” she’d say. It’s synonymous with “things don’t just happen”. I know it’s part of a longer ditty, but when I grew up it meant to get off your duff and work.

Unfortunately, there are many parents (at least 50 in this scandal) who feel it’s easier to lie, cheat, and buy admittance into college for their kids rather than teach them the value of work. What message is it sending their kids? Most of the elite students were allegedly oblivious. I’ll bet most rarely speak to their parents. I hope I’m wrong.

Am I being judgy? Sure I am. It’s infuriating. But I’m thankful there are honest students busting their toush to get that 4.zillion grade point average kids need these days, solidifying their study skills and powering through sports practices every day.

Will people continue to slither through those side doors? Always. Everybody does things differently.

I’d rather choose the front door entrance. Sneaky never wins.

Spiritual Workout: Pray for the families who made poor decisions.

Workout: Take 5 minutes, just 5, close your eyes and listen to your breathing. Focus on honesty and goodness.

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Ever wonder why your teenager is stressed? Here’s why!

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

LENTEN REFLECTIONS #9

During the 8th-grade graduation ceremony, the guest speaker straightened his tie, leaned over the microphone and declared confidently as if he were announcing the Power Ball Lottery Numbers: “Everything, EVERYTHING matters in high school!” (so don’t blow it).

I was convinced he was solely referring to grades. But boy was I wrong. Again.

Sure. Grades matter. But wait! There’s more. So. Much. More.

Research shows the prefrontal cortex, the rational part of the brain, doesn’t fully develop until age 25 or so. This is the area of the brain that employs good judgment and knowledge of consequences. Adults respond to situations with the prefrontal cortex.

Teens, on the other hand, process information with the emotional part, the amygdala. This is why every day seems like an emotional Tsunami. Logic will come, just give it another 7-12 years. Ugh. Doesn’t a driver’s license seem like such a bad idea now? According to the CDC Injury Center:

“The risk of motor vehicle crashes is higher among 16–19-year-olds than among any other age group. In fact, per mile driven, teen drivers ages 16 to 19 are nearly three times more likely than drivers aged 20 and older to be in a fatal crash.” (October 2018, CDC Injury Center).
Statistics stink sometimes…

Here are my top 60, yes 60 issues our teen’s overworked minds have to noodle through:

Grades (again), friends, the bus, lunch, AP classes, no AP classes, shoes, cars, driving permits, shoes – again, clubs, sports, not playing a sport, music, instruments, phones, social media, ACT tests, SAT tests, girlfriends, boyfriends, parking spaces, online courses, weekends, sleep, no sleep, grade point average, college tours, Youtube, likes, scholarships, prom, service hours, cliques, tests, homework, quizzes, failing, thinking a B is failing, caring what others think, vaping, not vaping, food, money, depression, school shootings, body image, acne, hair gel, allergies, being too short or too tall, global warming, understanding global warming, voting, working, gas money, and braces.

Some (or most) days will be messy, awful and emotionally draining but at the end of the day, just pray they find their tribe, recognize what REALLY matters and most importantly, remind them to ALWAYS-ALWAYS pack snacks…hunger is a cranky contributor. Zone bars and raisins have saved me on many surly occasions, buy in bulk.

Spiritual Workout: Pray for all teenagers and their parents. Thanks.

Workout: Go for a long walk with a friend or family member and talk about what matters to you. Remember to listen (the hardest part for me).