all you need to know . . .

is that as i sat toward the front of the movie theatre
and craned my head back
i saw plenty of light reflecting
off of the metal emblems centered on the foreheads
of children, tweens, and teenagers alike

me: "are those people wearing headbands?"
herb: "yes. yes they are."

i kept my hand secured on herb's forearm most of the evening
to ensure that i didn't laugh outloud.
instead, i just dug my fingers into his flesh.

you also need to know that people were cheering throughout this film
we waited for the prompts of our seatmates
(who, impressively, did not take us up on our offer to sit behind them!)
before hooting or hollering.

my 15 year old friend was sweet and funny
her companion
(whom i was brashly informed "is NOT my boyfriend")
was equally sweet, funny, and charming.
and he shared his mozeralla cheese sticks with me at Red Robin.

on the way home, i told herb
"i don't know how B wouldn't like him.
i am a grown, married woman,
and i had a crush on him within 10 minutes!"

that's not weird, is it?

weird would have been if i had worn the ninja costume.
i didn't.

love is . . .

going to a movie that you would never watch on your own
nope
not in a million years
but you go
you always go
you've seen king kong
and the hulk
and ghost rider

and now she wants to see naruto
you don't care about this film
but you will go see it
and your husband will go with you
because there is a 15 year old girl
that you really love
and she really loves japanimation
and her mom won't let her
go see a movie with a boy
without an adult

so here we go
the chosen ones
wednesday night
double date with a pair of 15-year-olds
to a japanimation film

this is love

Girl World

Today I pulled up to X High School to pick up a certain 14 year old for coffee. Over the years she has been a lot of things in my life. We began in an organized mentoring relationship. Now, it is safe to say, she is my friend.

I try to be cool. And listen. And let her order the extra big size of whatever snack we happen to devour. I am kind of like a backwards grandparent.

We have gone ice skating, gone to the library, watched dozens of movies, visited craft stores and even traveled together. We used to see each other weekly . . . and then after a few years, bi-weekly. Now a few months can pass between our times together.

But the beginning of her high school years has caused me to pray for her in a way I never have. I am scared for her. High school is tough. I am reading "Queen Bees and Wannabes" to help me understand what she might be going through. It makes me even more scared for her. As I read about the different roles girls take on to survive this time, I can identify where she fits. And I hate it for her. So I pray for her to meet Christian women at school who see beyond her attempt to look Goth without being Goth because it is not cool to fit into any certain group. She wants nothing more than to be completely unique.

In addition to all of this, she drinks coffee. When did children start drinking coffee? This, to me, is the major distinction between my generation and the one charging up behind me. With a mere 15 year age gap, I would have normally considered her to be in my generation. In ten more years we be peers. It would not be unusual for us to be co-workers or neighbors or even mommies that attend the same Gymborie with our children. But currently, she is 14 years old and her caffeine exposure causes me to think we might be living in separate universes.

A few things have change since she was 9 years old. I used to know where to pick her up at school. First the elementary school and then the middle school. We had a spot. We had a plan. But this high school thing has thrown me for a loop. I missed the turn off for the school but I spied the football stadium so I just started driving the opposite direction of the exodus of cars that were being driven home by children who can't decide if they want to have sex or get out their old Barbie dolls. I felt old. I pulled up to the school but knew I was in the wrong place so I called the 14 year old.

"Where are you?"

Okay, when did teenagers start getting cell phones? I did not have a cell phone until I was 25! And that was only because I was living in the home of an older couple who didn't really want me using their phone.

And who taught this kid to answer an adult's call this way? Wasn't she nine years old just five minutes ago? She used to answer all of my calls with a quizzical "Hellllooooo?" Once I identified myself, her voice rose two octaves and I received an elated "HIIIIIIIII!!!!!!" She spoke to me with anticipation and appreciation.

I think this has changed since the last time I called her. Which would have been two weeks ago. How did she go from bated breath to irritation and entitlement in two weeks?

So she saunters over to my car. I poked my head out and waved. She ducked her head and picked up her pace before sliding into the front seat. I try to be cool. It is hard. I am not cool. Not in a "I could tolerate being seen in public in front of my friends with you" sort of way. I am cool in a "I wear groovy skirts from Europe and have a garden nome in my shower because it is funny and watch documentaries just because I want to and I have a stack of scrapbooking paper in the trunk of my car just in case" sort of way.

The teenager is secured in the car. She is no longer interested in coffee, but smoothies. Apparently the only decent coffee anymore is at her new high school . . . and she has already had enough today.

"Can I use your cell phone to text this girl? She wants to know if I like this boy and I need to tell her what I want her to tell him! But I am not allowed to text from my phone."

"Um. Sure. Yeah. (then, trying to be cool) Sounds like a real teen emergency, huh? (told you I am not cool)."

But, she is still young enough to give me a break every once in a while.

"Yeah! It totally is!"

"Would your mom be okay with it?"

"Yeah, I just can't text on my phone because it is expensive."

Right, because in teen brain land, it doesn't cost a penny on MY phone.

Five minutes later . . .

"HI!!! How are you?"

She looks at me oddly.

"Well, we have not actually talked or said hi yet. Hi!"

Laughing. "Oh, hi! I bet you are dying to know about this boy that likes me."

Boy. Boy? Oh yeah, the whole reason for the text. Get excited.

"Oh yeah!! Tell me about this!"

From here on out, it was a horserace. Only, I realized, I was not supposed to talk. At all. No commentary, feedback, or even active listening . . . simply put, saying back what she just said. None of it.

So I listened. And tired not to laugh. And kept my opinions about her choices in books, boys, and clothes . . . and just about everything else . . . to myself. Mostly.

Then we went to the book store. I thought we would do the adult tandem bookstore thing but once I finished up at my section and joined her in the Young Adult section, I realized I was missing out on prime teen talk time. Next thing I know I am being handed a book about every 90 seconds followed by a quick synopsis and commentary. We even talked about "doing it".

Wow.

Growing Up Is Hard to Do

Six years ago, a (former) roommate who works for a mentoring ministry asked if I would be interested in going through the training program to become a mentor for an at risk teenager. My response: "I know your program is focused on teens . . . but unfortunately, I don't do teens. I didn't understand them when I was one and they certainly didn't understand me! If by some chance you found a child for me to mentor, I would talk about that with you."

Six months later she stood in the doorway of my room, "Well, I met your child today. She is your twin - totally how I picture you when you were a child - looks, personality - everything!" And it was true, this child and I were meant for each other. Even the way we got connected was phenomenal. When I was a counseling student, I randomly ran into the seminary's on-site cousneling center to say hi to somebody. I bumped into a woman who asked if I knew of any mentoring programs in town. She had a young clinet that needed a friend more than she needed thearpy. I directed her to Becky. And a few months later, Becky stood in my doorway - "I found your child!"

From her creativity, to her sensitivity, to her family dynamics, and her questionable sense of style/structure/and time management - we are so similar! Over the years, we have grown together, traveled together, and eaten our weight in ice cream together (I got two scoops for every one she had). It has been a serendipitous experience.

In the last year or two, we have seen less and less of each other. I have been busy and she doesn't call. We get together once every two or three months and go to a movie or something. I try talking to her. Sometimes she talks back. She handed out programs at our wedding. That's about it.

I got an email from her mother this week. My sweet little girl friend is now 14 years old and *gasp* kissing boys. She isn't supposed to be kissing boys. No, really, she isn't. It is against the rules at her house. But her little sister told on her. Oops. So, now, her mom wants me to start meeting with her again on a regular basis. It is a good idea. Teenagers need adults beside their parents to support them. But remember, I don't do teenagers.

Now, since the time that I originally declined working with a teen mentee, I have worked professionally with many teenagers. But most of them were boys - and we all know that drug and porn addicted teenage boys are much more reasonable and kind than any 14 year old girl.

But despite my fear of teenage girls, Herb and God have been talking to me about it and they both feel it is a good idea - for my friend and for me. So, next week, I will eat ice cream with the cute nine year old girl who has grown up into an adolescent who signs her emails "Vampire Freak". I guess I will wear a necklace of garlic bulbs around my neck.