It's not your imagination: your high school senior is a jerk. A weekly reflection from Emily Rutledge

Each year during the spring my job takes on a seasonal ministry.  It’s for a very select and elite group of students and their parents… I call it ‘your-kid-doesn’t-hate-you-they-are-just-an-irrational-high-school-senior-trying-to-make-leaving-easier’. Some of you have lived through this very special (read: frustrating and exhausting) time and others may still believe… never my child.

Guess what?  Your child.

Eight years of ministry.  What feels like a million seniors (it’s probably around 55 but once they are seniors the energy the need from me is 100 fold) and each one.  Each stinking one of them: total and complete jerks to their parents during the spring of their graduating year.  The levels have varied and correlate to their normal demeanor.  The sweetest most non-confrontational child will fall a little lower on the spectrum of being an utter handful while the most spirited may go ahead and get a tattoo, drive their car into a ditch, or just stop doing all school work because they are ‘already accepted to college’ (all real life events). 

Without fail emails, texts, and phone calls start coming around March with questions like,

• Have you noticed a change?
• What have I done wrong?
• Will you talk to them?
• Please go ahead and adopt my child because I can no longer be in charge of their well-being --I cannot have one conversations with them.  Every time we talk it escalates into an argument.
• Does the priest do exorcisms because this feels like an appropriate situation for one?

The pain, the fights, the tears, the smart-aleck comments, they are REAL.  The root of them doesn’t really matter when it is your child talking to YOU because it hurts.  While you are mourning the baby you put your entire heart into raising leaving your nest your child is an adult size toddler with poor reasoning skills informing you that you’ve done it all wrong. 

And all of it… every last comment and rolled eye… it’s because they love you.  It’s because they are so dang sad to leave you and so scared of what is to come the safest thing to do is to hurt, alienate, and infuriate the people who loves them most so it’s easier to walk away in late August.  So basically, they are being total jerks because you did a great job. 

My kindergartner will tell me, “mommy, I can’t wait for us to go to college together” and while that makes me tear up a little bit now I am one hundred percent sure that when she is 17 I will need a reminder that she is a good person and that I am not a failure parent and that we will survive this season of life. 

As people of faith letting our children grow more fully into the gifted and independent souls they are ends up meaning that we are asked to do the hard work of staying steady when they begin to shake.  We are tasked with keeping our arms open to our children even when they lash out in fear and anxiety.  We are tasked to be a reflection of God to the nastiest most unappealing side of our own children.  In the rest of our lives there is usually some trophy for staying the course on a task this hard: you are recognized at work, your friend sends you a thank-you note for your unwavering support, you finish a marathon, you launch an amazing project.  In this instance… the trophy will most likely come MUCH later in the form of a child who recognizes the ways that your love and support carried them even when they were not asking for it.  *do not expect this anytime in the next three years, I don’t want you to set yourself up for disappointment

So, sweet parents, you are doing a really good job.  Your kid is not going to tell you that.  They may be telling you the opposite, or nothing, or just crying a lot… but stay the course.  This is normal. THEY are normal(ish... as normal as any of us can be).  They are still all the awesome things you know them to be it's just a little blurry right now.  They are still gifted and kind and smart.  They are still a kid to be proud of.  They are just really really hard to parent for this season. When you mirror the love of Christ to your children, a love that can withstand all the complaining and yelling and raging, they will know God even more fully through you. Don't feel even a little bit bad about venting to your friends, partner, or anyone with an ear to listen... you deserve a break and to be heard by someone (since your senior will definitely not be that person)!  I promise, come September... they will miss you and you may even like them again.  

A Place at The Table: Mid-Week Reflection

EMILY RUTLEDGE, YOUTH MINISTER

You may have seen information about this app floating around the internet the past few days. Its call ‘Sit With Us’ and was created to be a connector for students who are in need of people to eat lunch with and those who want to welcome people to their lunch table.  It’s simple, and beautiful, and it was created by a current high school student who ate lunch alone for her entire 7^th grade year. 

The students who are inviting others to sit with them are called ‘ambassadors’.  The definition of an ambassador is, “an accredited diplomat sent by a country as its official representative to a foreign country”.

The foreign countries of our lives are vast and expansive.  We are alone as a parent.  We are alone as a caretaker.  We are alone as a widow.  We are alone as a transfer or an old-timer or a leader.  It is easy for us to access the emotion of the student eating alone in the lunch room because we have each been there and continue to be there in some aspect of our lives. 

And, as Christians, even when our lives cause us to feel alone, we are called to be the ambassador.  An ‘accredited diplomat’.  Your accreditation: you are God’s beloved child.  Your worth is beyond measure and your gifts uniquely given so that you can officially represent our loving and accepting God.  We are called to reach out and invite people to the Table.  We are to proclaim Christ’s love through inclusion, invitation, and acceptance. 

My heart breaks to think of that sweet girl eating lunch alone for a year.  It breaks my heart and is happening every day.  In our schools, in our churches, in our workplaces, and even in our homes.  We can be surrounded by people and be so utterly and impossibly alone this world seems nothing but cold and cruel.  We must be the light, the invitation, the warmth that reminds others that we are in this together.  That we are each worthy of a place at the table.  

Reflections from Summer Camp: Emily Rutledge

Dear Parents,


I saw you, during that opening in the pavilion this week as you dropped your babies off at camp.  I was the chaplain, the one that prayed during the opening and watched carefully as you each worked your way through the registration line to get your child’s cabin number and head up the mountain. See, what you may not have known was that across that field in a home I could see from where we were standing were my two little people; 4 years old and 2 years old.  They are here with me as a chaplain for the next week and a half.  As each of you walked up that mountain to settle your camper and then walked back again to get into your car and drive away, I prayed for you.  My mama heart could not imagine that feeling.  Maybe this isn’t new for you and the anxiety was less, maybe it was your first time and you worked hard to hide any concerns you were feeling. 

We feel it, don’t we?  When we are responsible for a human and then drop them off with people we know are good people but know nothing about -- there is a tiny knot in our stomach that forms.  We worry about whatever we have to worry about for our particular kid; bullying, breaking a bone, missing home, food allergies, lack of a filter, sleep difficulties, and all the things that make our kid our kid.

Here is the report from the front lines: they are okay, better than okay actually. 

Those counselors.  Their whole self is invested in your child finding community.  I’ve seen it.  They seek the outlier.  They spend their time knowing your child, connecting them to others, and finding ways for them to grow life-long friendships.  They worry and pine and pray over the child that is struggling and refuse to give up no matter how many failed attempts at connection or brush-offs they receive.  They come back early from their days off just so they don’t miss their favorite evening activity with them.  They are all in.

Those medical forms.  People read them… carefully.  The nurse is of course fully aware of all issues but your child’s nut allergy or asthma is the first thing covered in the first staff meeting that they have when your child arrives on the mountain.  No one is playing around with allergies or illness.  There is care and kindness and attention paid to each child’s individual needs.  Those forms are not looked at once and thrown aside.  Cabinets are cleared, bunks chosen, and daily plans made to be sure each child is safe and well-cared for.  Also, those emergency medicines are no small thing!  Those counselors are ready at any second for the worst to happen… fanny pack on hip.

Those kids missing home.  They exist.  They miss you… and they are never ever left alone to do so.  Those first few days can be hard as they miss the people who care for them at home.  When they feel that creep in, the people here show them how worthy of love and time they are.  They are learning about the body of Christ in a tangible and concrete way.  Yes, your child may have shed a tear at some point.  No, it was not unrecognized or pushed away.  They were given an extra dose of love, a few more hugs, and lots and lots of reminders of why camp is exactly where they need to be… we would be incomplete without them.

And finally, yes, they have found friends.  We are mid-way through St. George’s III and those kiddos are connecting and laughing and being ridiculous together.  They already have cabin inside jokes and nicknames.  They are walking arm in arm, singing silly songs, giving high-fives, and being part of something positive and life-giving and real. 

My two little people are here with me and I have to tell you, I’m so glad you raised the kids you’ve raised.  They have taken my children in, loved them, played with them, and made them feel safe and secure. Someday, I bet, your child will be my children’s St. G’s counselors and that makes the knot in my stomach for drop-off in 5 years much much smaller.

So no matter what totally non-detailed answer they give you about camp… I caught them having the time of their lives, and they are thankful for you loving them enough to send them here!

Blessings and camp joy,

Emily

Click here to learn more about The Diocese of Virginia's Episcopal summer camps at Shrine Mont