Gindi Vincent

The Dish on Career, Fashion, Faith, and Family

Hard Conversations: The Ugly Internet

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Yesterday, I talked about one of the hardest conversations we’ve been having as a family.  The one where we discuss racial injustice in our country. 

But it’s not the only hard conversation I’ve been having. 

This one, I haven’t had with the kids yet because, quite frankly, they are 10 and I have no idea how to have it. 

Bray and I have discussed for a number of years allowing the kids to have a phone in 6th grade (that’s just over a year away now), primarily to be able to reach us during after school sports practices and events.  No social media or data plans, simply a phone that enables contact. 

Let me start this particular hard conversation by saying I know parents are ALL over the map on this one.  In fact, there are very few issues where people are MORE all over the map than this one.  Some kids got phones in kindergarten and some didn’t ever get them.  This is a personal decision, and this is not a judgment zone, merely a seeking zone. 

The kids have long accepted this even though many of their friends (certainly the majority) got phones this past year.  One even commented to me on how useless the social media talk was at school because he knew he was never getting it.  (Ha!)

Now that we are approaching this period, I am talking to parents who have gone before me and seeing ways they have implemented protective rules and guidelines.  I have some ideas but I love hearing what has worked. 

I recently had one of those conversations with a mom of two teens.  I have known her a long time and she’s educated and involved with her kids.  But her question to me rocked me and I’ve been sitting with what’s next ever since. 

I told her we were delaying phones and then prohibiting social media for even longer.  She started talking about a free porn site where anyone can pull up images of porn on the internet regardless of your phone controls.  She suggested that if my kids hadn’t seen it yet, they surely would, as even if they didn’t have a phone, one of their friends would thrust it in their face. 

Then she said this, “You have to get to the point where you ask, do I want my kids to be popular or do I want to keep them from seeing porn?”

Let’s just sit with that question.

One I’m sure my parents friends never posed.

Let’s tackle the first bit. It has NEVER been a goal of our parenting to try to advance the kids popularity.  Both my husband and I were affirmatively unpopular and we survived.  Yes, it was painful, but we’re better humans for it (I like to think).

Our parenting goals are ambitious, but popularity is not on the list.  On the long list of parenting goals, we are seeking to build curiosity, a strong faith in Jesus, diverse interests, healthy practices, optimism, hard work, resilience, and a sense of love and security from their home base.

I want them to embrace their uniqueness and not feel compelled to conform.  That likely stands in direct opposition to popularity which feels a lot like an exercise in conformity. 

Further, in a world gone mad, whose priorities are utterly askew, I believe it could be incredibly challenging to “hang with the in crowd” and prioritize the actions Jesus compels us to take.

So, if we set the popularity piece aside, we are left with ready access to porn. 

And if not porn on their device, then porn shown from someone else’s device. 

So now what?

I do not know. 

I can tell you this – I do not want to have conversations about porn with my 10 year olds. 

I realize the ages of all these hard conversations are advancing, and we’ve had talks about boys and girls and babies and bodies and what God tells us and what science tells us every summer for three years.  Each summer, becoming progressively more informative as their maturing brains can process.

However, I’m in my 40s and cannot process porn, so I’m not sure how to tackle with children what’s out there electronically. 

Of course we have had safety conversations.  They are familiar with the concept of online predators.  But what about what just pops up? On the internet.  In movies.  In their ethos. 

And even if they don’t have data on their phones, we all know that they can get online with internet access most places now. 

So Bray and I have started this hard conversation with each other.  And then we’ll have it with the kids before they ever receive a phone. 

We are reading resources like Screenager about conversation starters and guardrails.  But I would welcome your insight.  You parents of teens who are a few years ahead of us on the road.  Within those conversation starters, whether on social media or here, I would ask for no judgment of other parents.  We’re all doing the best we can. 

On the spectrum, we are going to be at the stricter end.  If you’ve walked that path, and fought those fights, and had those hard conversations, I would love to learn. 

This is uncharted territory.  And it makes me sad.  Sad for innocence lost.  Sad to live in an age when there is so much BLECK thrust in our faces.  But we will chart this course and pray for wisdom.

Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me – put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you. Philippians 4:8-9

Hard Conversations: Racial Injustice

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2020 has been a hard year.  But this weekend hit me particularly hard. 

In my house, we have been having some hard conversations.  Discussing heartbreaking topics, without having any answers.  I’ve been torn about writing.  Wanting to share our hearts and our confusion with this community, but also struggling to know what to say. 

So today, I decided to write.  There are many others who will write more eloquently and with better strategies than me.  Still, on balance, more voices, even halting imperfect ones, are better. 

Today, I will share some of the conversations I have been having with the kids about the death of George Floyd and racial injustice in America.

While at a dear friend’s with little bit this weekend, she saw a news clip of Nashville on fire.  It started our conversation about the protests and the basis for them. 

First, I showed her a picture of George Floyd.  Then I showed her a pictured of Mr. Floyd with a police officer’s knee on his neck and I explained what happened.  Eight minutes and 46 seconds.  “I can’t breathe.”  Calling for his mama.  Then I opened Facebook and I showed her pictures of my friends standing alongside their handsome black sons.  And we talked about how scared they must be.  All the time. 

We talked about prejudice that people hold.  Some police officers, but some not.  Some just regular people, including us.  How people make a decision about someone because of the way they look on the outside. 

We talked about leadership and how some officials are trying to start a conversation of understanding between people in their communities, while other leaders are sowing even more division and terror.  We talked about some of them by name.  It was not a political conversation.  It was a human conversation. 

She prayed.  She prayed specifically that “police officers would not think that black people are dangerous,” and she prayed for mothers who were worried and she prayed for leaders to lead better and she prayed for everyone who has suffered for years who were lamenting on the streets of our American cities. 

When we returned home and the boys came back for the ranch, then we had more conversations. 

This time, I sat in the boys room with all three of them. 

Little bit explained what she understood and expressed her outrage.  She said she wanted to be President because she wanted to say things to people who were scared and worried and she wanted African Americans to be treated better. 

The boys had more questions.  We talked about their black and brown friends, naming all the people we know who must be so angry and sad and scared.  I asked them how could it be that the eldest could walk through our neighborhood in a black hoodie every day and never worry, but if his friend was walking in those same clothes on those same streets, then his friend might get reported to police or stopped, or worse, hurt. 

They don’t move immediately to empathy like she did, they move to action.  What can we DO? 

If you present them with a problem, then they want an solution. 

I explained we can’t change other people’s hearts but we can do some things.  We can support those who seek to lead our communities who want to hold people accountable and ensure people of all colors are treated fairly.  We talked about how they could be an advocate, and what that means.  I read from my friend Karen’s post who reminded us, “We can’t wait for police reform entirely because that takes time… we need to be heard and seen when we see black or brown people being questioned by the police. Just stay close, your presence might make the difference.”  We talked about what they could have done if they were there on that street.  How do you speak out? 

We talked about how we have all judged someone based on their shape or size or color or accent. 

And then we prayed.  Because in light of all this heaviness, what is there except to cry out to God?

We prayed for the family of George Floyd.  We prayed for our friends who have been singled out and hurt or bullied or treated unfairly because of the color of their skin.  We prayed for forgiveness for where we have assumed or judged or not seen others as God sees them, His unique creation.  We prayed for our world and our country and our city. 

We will continue to pray. 

We will continue to listen. 

We will speak out.

And I will run my daughter’s campaign, when she is old enough to run for office and add her clarion voice to the chorus demanding change.

I have been reading so much over the past few days, and here are a few excerpts that struck me. 

This one from inCourage:

We need to feel the pain of lives lost to the inhumanity of racism.  We need to feel the tension of how our privilege can distances us from wanting to feel the pain. We need to lean into the fire and know the flame with our sisters. We need to do the hard work of listening, of learning, of loving well. We are many parts of One Body, connected in and by and for Christ. Our hearts are on fire, and as on Pentecost, we need to let them burn so that we may be filled with the Holy Spirit and empowered by Him to come together as many parts of one body.  Romans 12:4-5: Just as our bodies have many parts and each part has a special function, so it is with Christ’s body. We are many parts of one body, and we all belong to each other.

This one from Esau McCaulley:

The first is to recognize that the problem is not just out there.  It’s in our hearts. The problem isn’t just that there are racists in the world. The problem is that we all live in rebellion against God and his will for us. The gospel demands a decision from each of us about our own sins. If Jesus had a theme for his ministry it is repent for the kingdom of heaven is at hand… We do have a message for a city and a world on fire. There is a God who loves you and died that you might know him.  This love is sufficient to gather the divided peoples of the world when all the politicians and philosophers fail. There is a God of justice who sees and acts on behalf of the beleaguered peoples of the world, people like George Floyd.

From my dear friend and prayer partner and active social justice advocate:

I believe a revival and Awakening is coming, greater than ever before. Yet those have always started with laying down one’s own pride and understanding, to travail in prayer. They have begun because what is impossible for us is only possible with God. It’s going to take a level of sacrifice never before yet seen.
‘Thou Christ of burning, cleansing flame, Thy blood-bought gift today we claim, Look down and see this waiting host, We want another Pentecost, Send the Fire.’ [From hymn, Lord Send the Fire]

On the Day I Went Back to the Office

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Today, I drove to my office.

The last time I was here was March 13th. The Friday before our Spring Break trip.

Things were already quite uncertain then. But I had no idea what would come. Or for how long.

It’s Wednesday, May 20th. It’s been over 2 months.

I can’t come back every day yet. There’s still no one to watch the kids – really nowhere to put our country’s children (safely). Our school will end today. So will my two month’s tenure as a homeschool teacher.

Yesterday, while thinking about coming in, I was excited. As a corporate lawyer, I need time and quiet to think through legal issues and write coherent documents. While I actually enjoyed my time working from home (breakfast with my kids for the first time in six years, no long commute, etc.), it was very hard to get quiet time for deep thought.

But this morning, I nearly cried on the way in.

I wasn’t ready.

Today was their last day of remote learning. I wasn’t there to help them get on their Zoom calls and photograph their math assignments and lead a devotional over a late breakfast.

Plus there is general anxiety over coming back to a workplace when cases in our state and county are most definitely on the rise, as are hospitalizations. One friend wrote on social media recently, it’s like we just gave up on containing the virus.

In writing a friend this morning, she responded with this:
I am so excited to return to the office. I am so nervous to return to the office.
I am so happy to eat at all the restaurants and go all the places. But then I don’t understand why we can’t just sit here and play family games.
I want my son’s baseball to start so he can see his friends. But then I don’t want baseball to start.
I am so excited for this to end. I desperately don’t want this to end.
I am all the feels. All the relaxed. All the overwhelmed.

I couldn’t have written that any better.

There is still so much unknown.

And while I love this quiet environment and these big double computer screens to edit my documents, I miss my little corner at the kitchen table with kids fighting over Rip Stiks.

I don’t want to go back to life like it was.

We won’t. We can’t. At least not for a long time.

But during this time, in the in between, when there is some normal and some still wildly abnormal, how do we sift out what is really important and implement changes that stay with us.

There’s so much hard ahead.

But there’s so much good in what we’ve uncovered during this season.

14 Years

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Today, our little marriage turns 14 years old.

I used to classify our marriage years by a word or tag line.

That’s gotten harder over the years as the years get more complicated. There are high highs and low lows. There is great joy and sorrow mixed in together.

Some years, are more defined by one thing than the other. The job loss year, that decade mark. The Hurricane Harvey year.

Well, you might imagine what this year will be most remembered for.

The coronavirus.

But it’s silly really because there was a huge swath of the year that had nothing to do with this quarantine and economic recession.

We celebrated the kids turning 10! That’s right, our marriage survived TEN years with triplets!

We had a wonderful holiday season where our marriage was in one of the best places of its tenure.

After the New Year, we had a really terrible couple of months which we bounced back from but only just before we left for Spring Break.

We had a wonderful family vacation.

We had a couple’s getaway while the kids were at camp.

14 years and counting.

We still live in the same house that we moved me into after our honeymoon. Crazy really given all the houses I lived in growing up.

We’re at the same church. The kids are going to the same school now for four years. We have friends and jobs and health. This wasn’t a year where we found a hole in my brain or we went through brutal fertility treatments. We still have all our family members with us.

Marriage is hard. Don’t let anyone tell you newly engaged couples any different. But it is absolutely worth it.

I love Bray so much. More than I knew possible when I told him I’d love him ’til death us do part’ all these mornings ago.

It stormed the morning of our wedding. Brutal ugly storm. But by the time we were standing at the front of the church with a sanctuary full of family and friends the storms had moved off and the sun was shining.

A foreshadowing of the years to come.

Apart and together. Storms and sun.

We did good baby – I can’t wait for the next 14 years. Really. I’m not just saying that. I can’t imagine anyone else I’d rather do “all this” with than you.

Easter 2020: The One In Quarantine

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It was a really good Easter. No dressing up, at least not much. No heading to church with the family. No big extended family Easter lunch.

And yet.

It was good.

I was pretty sad about the whole thing because I really love Easter. For us, and our faith, it’s the culmination of the whole story. The crescendo.

Plus, I often host our extended family or our friends and I cook and bake and love the house brimming with loved ones.

Saturday, I baked treats with the kids. And it actually turned out (you may recall my Easter endeavors don’t always -may I remind you of macaroni and cheese from scratch or other rice krispie efforts). We had a precious bunny butt cake, rice krispie eggs with jelly bean surprise, and sugar cookies.

A local club had a drive through Easter parade which we drove through to see the Easter bunny and receive Easter treats (I know our days are numbered on the kids enjoying this).

They walked the dog and swam and went on bike rides.

We woke up Sunday morning to Easter basket treats, sans basket, and they went on an Easter egg hunt as is our morning tradition.

Little bit negotiated a 27.5% purchased stake in the boys lemonade business which was absolutely a delight to watch (these negotiators, keep an eye out for them all).

We watched our church and some other church services as well.

I cried as I watched Andrea Bocelli perform solo at the Duomo. Especially his closing of Amazing Grace on the steps.

We had a big lunch and I tried out new recipes. Roasted turkey roulade and spiced carrots and lemon butter asparagus. My mom came and sat at the end of the table at a respectable distance but we weren’t going to have her eating lunch all by herself!

We took naps and colored Easter eggs and really enjoyed being together.

Easter was different. But we were so incredibly fortunate. We were together. We were healthy. As we said our prayers, we acknowledged what a rare gift it is to have a house and to have jobs and to have a refrigerator full of food. I’ve certainly been through holidays that didn’t have any of those.

So our quarantine Easter looked different, but it was good. These quieter days are reminding us what life could look like. What we should leave out when things go back to “normal.” What we should treasure. Where we should invest our energy.