Category: Family Life

How Strong is This Marriage?

~ ejmcewan ~ 1 Comment

10 years ago, I sold a guitar so I could pay my way to Cincinnati. I had no job and no savings; I had found an apartment only a few days prior. I was moving for a relationship, not for a city. In fact, Cincinnati was barely a blip on my radar and, as far as I could tell, the move was temporary.

10 years ago.

When I knew my ten year anniversary was around the bend, I considered doing something to celebrate. Throw a party. Release a new cd. Write a Top Ten list of my best Cincinnati memories. But as the days inched closer and closer, my heart grew more and more conflicted and I let the day pass last month without making much of a racket at all. Not publicly, at least. Privately, my mind and heart were wide awake and wild.

What the hell am I even doing here?

Oh, I know what I’m doing here. I’m living a pretty wonderful, charmed life. I am wife to a wonderful husband; I am mother to three beautiful, spirited children. I sometimes play music and sometimes plan community events and sometimes host parties and concerts and sometimes write articles and blogs and other assorted read-ables. Heck, I “do” a lot.

But how many of us really measure the wealth of our life by what we “do?”

I don’t.

I want to know “why” and “for what” and “to what end” am I here?
And, in that way, the “do” is rather inconsequential.
The “do” can come later.

When did I fall in love with Cincinnati?

From the moment I arrived, there have been wonderful people who have embraced me as their own and shared the best parts of Cincinnati with me. Many of those parts are hidden away in their favorite corners of the city, tucked into houses and storefronts and laughter and singing songs that no one other than those they call their own would care enough to notice. This city has become familiar to me in a way that I never expected. It welcomed me as its child and I fell in love with it, hidden piece by hidden piece.

But what does it mean to truly love a city? And how much of my love for Cincinnati is more about what it has given to me than about what I can give for it?

And, what does loving a city truly require?

Cities change.
Living in a growing, changing neighborhood has been a huge challenge for me because this neighborhood was a huge part of that first affection I felt for Cincinnati. And, with every small change, I’m losing a little bit more of what made this city feel like it was “mine” in the first place. And if I, being here only ten years, can feel such torn affections, imagine the heart and mind of someone whose entire history centers here.

There have been many times in the past few years when I was ready to cut and run.

The truth is: I. Want. Out.

But I’ve thought a lot about love and commitment and the concept of marriage recently. Not related, specifically, to my marital relationship but more related to my marriage to mission and work and my love of place. Wendell Berry talks about the idea a lot when he talks about farmers and their relationship to their land. It’s the idea of husbandry and it’s, sadly, a concept that has lost its gravity in its modern usage.

What would it mean to marry myself to this place?
What would it look like to make a covenant with this city?
How can I love this city and these people with the kind of love required in marriage?

Look, I’m not suggesting that a person’s relationship to their place holds nearly as much weight as an actual marriage. But I am suggesting that maybe we don’t really understand what we claim when we claim to “love our city” if we’re willing to just walk away when the affections wane or when the greener grass next door peeks our interest. Most people don’t think twice if a better opportunity, a bigger house, or a higher-paying job shows up.

But maybe, like a good marriage, loving our city means much more than the tickle in our belly or the ebb and flow of our affections.

I like the word “efficacious.” It’s a word I don’t use in conversation because it would make me sound obnoxious. But it’s a good word. And it’s one of the words I remind myself of most often when I consider whether or not I am acting in love toward another person. In the context of loving, efficacious love would be a love that is productive, effective, constructive, or beneficial. It is a love that is fruitful. One of the best ways I’ve heard it expressed is by St. Augustine when, in relationship to God, he wrote: Quia amasti me, fecisti me amabilem. (In loving me, you made me lovable.)

In loving me, you made me lovable. How awesome is that?

What would it look like to love this city in that way, in a way that made it better? Made it truly lovely?

Then, after committing to see that love through, what does it look like to love a city that doesn’t always love you back, at least not in the way you wish it would? What about when it no longer feels as welcoming or accepting? And what would it look like to truly love a city that grows up to be something other than the thing you always wished it would be?

How do you love a city that no longer resembles the city you first loved?

I’m sure most people don’t care too much about this stuff. They just move on when their affections shift. Find a more comfortable place to call “home.” But I can’t get the questions out of my head.

Wendell Berry writes about the responsibility to one’s place:

When I lived in other places I looked on their evils with the curious eye of a traveler; I was not responsible for them; it cost me nothing to be a critic, for I had not been there long, and I did not feel that I would stay. But here, now that I am both native and citizen, there is no immunity to what is wrong.

What is my responsibility to this city– to this place that adopted me as its own, who gave me back my faith, gave me another chance at love, brought me my babies, and cradled me into adulthood?

The truth is that sometimes I just don’t have it in me to give back. Sometimes I feel like I’ve already given too much and that I’d like to take some time for myself. I want to find a wooded, wild, quiet place to raise my children without the fuss of loving a place and a people in return. (Because, in the city, it’s impossible to ignore the heart beating next door. You can hear it through the walls. And I’ve got enough damage to repair in my own heart and my own home, thankyouverymuch.) Why not find someplace more comfortable? A place that doesn’t require so much work?

So, I’ll ask it again: why am I here?

How deep is my love for this city?
How strong is this marriage?

I can’t honestly say whether or not Cincinnati will be my home in ten years’ time. This city doesn’t really need me. Not in the same way my family needs me. There may be another vision or mission around the bend.

For now, I’m thankful for this city. And reminiscent. A little melancholy. And pretty hopeful for its future.

This city has given me a lot in ten years’ time. I am praying I have something to offer in return, even if it’s not for forever.

Why We Don’t “Do” Disney

~ ejmcewan ~ 5 Comments

Before you had kids, did you have any idea that taking a position on how to best parent would be so divisive? It starts with disagreements with friends over birth control and pregnancy and then childbirth and sleep training and continues well into your child’s adolescence.

Trust me. I have a lot of strong opinions. And I’m not afraid to share them. But I try not to be one of those “holier than thou” elitists about stuff like this because it’s not my job to parent your children. It’s my job to parent mine.

For example, we get questions a lot about why my almost-four year-old daughter still has not seen the movie Frozen. As if it’s a crime. As if she’s missing out on a life-defining childhood experience. So, in a brief diversion from current affairs, let me offer a quick peek into our family life and why we, generally, don’t consume a lot of popular kids’ media.

First of all, my kids are not sheltered. And no, don’t worry, we don’t throw away gifts given by friends and family. My daughter has a Disney princess book (which she loves) and an Elsa doll. My kids play with lightsabers and make references to Batman. They know that the worlds of Disney and superheros and Star Wars exist. They know the stories and characters and have read many of the books.

Kids like “kid stuff.”
No big deal.

But, because exposure to popular media is almost a given these days, we are intentional about exposing our kids to more of what we think is “good” media and entertainment. It’s similar (in my mind) to a family that says to their children, “No juice before bed,” or “No dessert before dinner” regardless of what their friends’ parents allow.

And although I’m speaking most specifically here about Disney princess movies, this post could have just as easily been titled “Why I Don’t Buy My Son Star Wars Action Figures” or “Why We Watch 10+ Year-old Movies On Family Movie Night” or “Why I Hate That My Kids Love Paw Patrol.”

Let me quickly clarify that, yes, I know that not all kids’ media is equal and that I’m probably being too hard on Disney. There are many, many intelligent, funny, enlightening kids’ movies, television shows, and books in existence, produced by Disney and others. We’ve seen some of them. We have really liked some of them.

Also, I’m sure you can argue a “Yeah, but, have you seen….. ?” for everyone one of my arguments. Feel free to make recommendations, but I still consider them the exception to the rule. And we shouldn’t set standards based on exceptions.

And, no, you don’t have to worry that I’m going to be weird about my kids coming to your house and seeing your kid’s Superman bedroom or that we’ll balk at your big-screen tv. That’s not the point of this. Please don’t take this personally. I’m just trying to explain the decision we’ve made with our kids because it does seem so strange to some people–especially to other people’s kids. And I understand that there are probably things we do allow our children to consume that confuse other people just as much as what we don’t allow. (I’ll keep an eye out for someone to write a post about “Why We Don’t Let Our Kids Listen to David Bowie Like The McEwans Do.”)

I know some of my ideas are unpopular or might make people uncomfortable. I think it’s worth sharing this kind of stuff anyway because, in the world of parenting, there are a lot of things that we take for granted about what is “good” or “best” for our kids just because it’s popular or recommended or it seems to work for everyone else. I’m simply suggesting some reasons why we should question these assumptions and consider that maybe, just maybe, popular kids’ media is feeding us all too much “dessert” and not enough “dinner.”

So, here you have it.
Seven reasons why we don’t “do” Disney.

– Every new popular movie is just another fad. Fads are created by multi-million (billion?) dollar marketing schemes that specifically target impressionable young children and parents who are willing to give into their child’s desires. I don’t want my kids to get into the habit of latching onto what’s new just because it’s new. The best of the best of the new shows and movies will have staying power and will be just as good when they are 10 years old as they were when they were brand new. That’s why our kids will eventually see all these popular movies–but it will probably be in a few years, once the fad has passed.

– The ubiquitous marketing by companies like Disney is overwhelming and confusing for a child. (For more on the manipulative nature of marking to youth, read this book.) What a child wants is not always what a child needs and what a child needs is not always desirable at first glance. When a young child walks through a store and everything in their sight, from snacks to water bottles to t-shirts and pull-ups is branded with a Disney character, the difference between want/need is blurred. They are manipulated into believing that the items branded with Frozen‘s Elsa are the better ones. They don’t learn a thing about quality, only desirability. This is a dangerous lesson to teach children. It will not prepare them to be wise consumers as they age. Yes, sometimes “want” and “need” can be found in the same item, but not always. We need to teach our kids to put first things first.

– The meta-narrative of most popular media is weak and confusing. What exactly is your average Disney princess movie about? Ask three people and they’ll tell you something different. Is it about “true love?” Is it about “finding yourself?” Is it about “breaking free from restraints?” Who the heck knows. Case in point: I recently heard two different people discuss the story from the movie Frozen in two different church sermons. One thought it was a positive and liberating story; one thought it was completely godless and worldly. Does it really matter if it’s not super obvious what these stories are about? Maybe. Maybe not. In the end, we are the ones who help our children interpret these stories. I’d simply rather choose better stories.

(As an aside: I’ve never understood how many Christian families boycotted Harry Potter but take their preschool children to see Disney movies. Although Harry Potter is admittedly “dark,” the series has so much more depth and rich truths to the story than any Disney princess movie ever did. And no, my kids have not seen/read Harry Potter, either.)

– Disney stories cannot stand apart from their visual presentation. In other words, without the screen, a Disney princess story is crap. Have you ever tried to read a storybook adaptation of a Disney movie? They are horrendous. That doesn’t mean the movie itself isn’t a good movie, only that its value is completely dependent on visual stimulation. There are some exceptions to this rule–movies like The Lion King and Frozen that have a good soundtrack, for example. But in general, I’d say it’s true. Why is this a bad thing? Well, because children don’t belong couched in front of a screen for hours upon end. Every once and a while? Sure. As “dessert” after a healthy “dinner” of profitable consumption? Sure. At Grandma’s house or on vacation or while passing time during a 10-hour car ride? Sure, pull out that DVD player. But on a regular, daily, or multiple times daily basis? No way. And since there are no decent, non-movie versions of Disney stories, we’d rather skip the stories entirely and find something better.

– I’m a Conservative. And I know that this doesn’t make me super popular, but I believe in inherent differences between men and women. And, often times, the gender distinctives in popular media are one-dimensional and the characters are inaccessible to the opposite sex. I don’t want my kids consuming media that only presents their differences in one-dimensional characters whose entire identity is predicated on their being “girly” or “manly.” And when I say these characters are inaccessible, I mean that they are so shallowly presented that the characters themselves have no lessons to teach children of the opposite sex. The heroine is beautiful and naive; the villain is masculine and conniving. This obviously exists on a continuum (Anyone remember Mulan? I loved her.), but if I read one more princess story that starts with the phrase, “the princess was the most beautiful baby in the world,” I might puke. They write it because it sells. But it only sells because we’re buying. How this manifests itself: Merida, the female protagonist in Disney’s Brave, was physically altered in post-production to look prettier. Apparently, the strong, brave, spunky young woman of the popular movie was not good enough to be sold as a doll.

– The love stories are full of lies. “He fell in love with her the moment he saw her” is garbage. Do I want my daughter to place a high value on love and commitment and sacrifice? Absolutely. Is a fairy tale the best way to communicate the nature of “true love” to my young, impressionable daughter? Probably not. At least not the grossly exaggerated, manufactured, feel-good Disney-ification of a fairy tale. You may believe the lady-in-waiting, “Prince Charming is just around the corner” messages are harmless and all in good fun and that “all little girls dream of being a princess.” But I would argue that lies about love and devotion and Prince Charming have gotten my generation into a big mess of broken relationships, fear of commitment, confused sexuality, and disappointment in marriage. Children will listen, as another fairy-tale tells us. Be careful what you tell them when they are young and listen to you most.

– Many animated movies are simply immature. You see, it’s not necessarily the stories that I find objectionable, but the dumbing-down of decent, edifying stories. Many Disney movies are based on wonderful, historically significant folk tales and fairy tales. In their original form and their cultural adaptations, they are complex and subtle and engaging for both adults and children. But in trying to make them “kid-friendly” and easy to swallow, we strip these grand stories of their strength and meaning. We reduce them to two hours of poop jokes for the kids and innuendos for the parents who are forced to watch. Children don’t need their stories dumbed-down; let’s give our children more credit than that.

The world is full of beautiful stories for children, stories of princes and princesses, heroes and adventure, love and loss, goblins and witches and giants and pirates. We should be offering the best of what is available, not what is easiest and most accessible at any given time on our nearest electronic device. It may take a little bit more work at times for parents, but the payoff is worth the effort.

In closing, let me leave you with a quote by author Madeline L’Engle:

“‘Why do you write for children?’ My immediate response to this question is, ‘I don’t.’ … If it’s not good enough for adults, it’s not good enough for children. If a book that is going to be marketed for children does not interest me, a grownup, then I am dishonoring the children for whom the book is intended, and I am dishonoring books. And words.

“Sometimes I answer that if I have something I want to say that is too difficult for adults to swallow, then I will write it in a book for children. This is usually good for a slightly startled laugh, but it’s perfectly true. Children still haven’t closed themselves off with fear of the unknown, fear of revolution, or the scramble for security. They are still familiar with the inborn vocabulary of myth. It was adults who thought that children would be afraid of the Dark Thing in Wrinkle, not children, who understand the need to see thingness, non-ness, and to fight it”

– Madeline L’Engle, A Circle of Quiet

*Ironically, Disney is set to make an adaptation of L’Engle’s A Wrinkle In Time, one of my favorite books. This is both a little heartbreaking and a little exciting. Disney did a pretty good job with CS Lewis’s The Chronicles of Narnia and several other live-action films based on children’s literature, so I’m hoping for the best.

But Where Do You Park Your Car?

~ ejmcewan ~ Leave a comment

The three most frequent questions I’m asked by people (parents, specifically) who are curious about living downtown are:

“Where do you buy groceries?”

“Where do your kids attend school?”

“Where do you park your car?”

Of these three, the first two are easily reconcilable. I have good answers for both. But the third question kills the conversation pretty quickly as soon as I answer, “Well, I can usually find a spot within a few blocks.”

The parking situation in my neighborhood has become more and more of a headache in the past two years as A) new businesses have opened and non-residents have decided that OTR is the “place to be” and B) as the City instated new parking restrictions including more metered spaces, higher parking rates, extended hours of enforcement, and started actually enforcing current laws. Together, these have all have forced residents to compete for the few free spaces available. Whereas, five years ago, I could find a parking space on my own street just about any time of the day (except Final Friday), I now sometimes circle for 20 minutes if I want a nearby space and often park 3-4 blocks away. (More on why that’s a problem in a minute.)

Today, we are on the brink of a City Council decision about the fate of parking in OTR and the (likely) institution of a permit parking program that–in my opinion–is too little, too late.

But, back to the issue at hand.
For the average family, the parking issue is one of the main factors in deciding whether or not a place is truly livable, meaning a place that goes from pie-in-the-sky, “I’d love to live there someday, in another life” to an actual, potential place they can thrive as a family. 

I’ve heard many Cincinnati residents (including the Mayor himself, City Council members, and other OTR residents) write-off the parking issue with a naive and condescending “If you don’t want to pay for parking, just get rid of your car. You’re the one who chose to live downtown.” And, sure, in a perfect world or in a world-class city, it would be that easy. Heck, even in Cincinnati, it is possible for many people. But we are still a long way from having an infrastructure that supports a completely car-free life. Especially for families (those of us with more than just ourselves and our own stuff to transport around town).

So, let me explain a few reasons why inconvenient parking kills the urban living dream for the average family.

– The distance between your parking space and your front door seems quite a bit more significant when you’re responsible for unloading after a family-sized grocery trip or now have to carry the sleeping babies that fell asleep while you circled the block for twenty minutes.

– You cannot leave things in your car when you live in the city. Or, at least you should not. This includes that stroller you’d rather not bring in and out of the house twice a day and the groceries you’d rather just leave for a few hours while you get the kids inside the house for their nap. There is no garage to keep your car/things safe. Leave it and you take the chance of coming back to a broken window and a lost stroller.

– Good luck getting friends and family to come visit you at your downtown home when there is no place to park. Other families with kids don’t want to walk six blocks from the nearest parking garage just to visit you. And Grandma doesn’t want to, either. Before too long, Uncle Elmer out in the suburbs will start hosting Easter again because it is just so much easier for everyone. And what about your babysitters? You’ll have to pay them an extra $2 an hour just to pay for their parking.

– There are definitely some housing units available with off-street or designated parking spaces, but these are at a premium and the added cost of the parking space is prohibitive for many families. Most young families I know are sacrificing at least part of an income (if not a complete income) to care for their young children. Many of them live on a strict budget. The difference between a $150k and $350k home to them is like the distance between Earth and Jupiter.

– The cost of paying for a garage space is the same way. An extra $60-95 a month might not be a huge deal to a couple with two full-time jobs and no one to feed other than themselves and a pet cat, but it’s just another unnecessary expense that a working- or middle-class family doesn’t want to deal with.

–Have you ever driven an SUV down a tiny cobblestone alleyway? In homes with off-street parking, a family-sized vehicle simply cannot fit. Take us for example: we have the potential for a parking pad in our backyard. But, with three kids and a mother in-law who doesn’t drive, we need a 6+ passenger vehicle. Big cars and small alleys aren’t exactly a good match. For us, parking in the backyard would be a headache every single time.

– With young children in the house, you cannot “just leave the house for a second” to walk down the street and feed the meter. This is why I’d rather circle the block for twenty minutes than park at a metered spot (and why extended meter hours stink). This goes for babysitters, too. If my babysitter arrives in the morning and has to park at a meter, she’ll need to leave my house every few hours to feed the meter and avoid a ticket. With older kids, this is not a big deal. They can be left alone for a few moments. But what do you do when there is a sleeping baby upstairs and the parking meeting around the corner is about to expire? Or when there are three kids who you have to pack up in jackets and shoes to take with you around the corner to pay that meter? It’s obviously not impossible. But it’s obnoxious.

– “Just get rid of your car” doesn’t work when there are large grocery trips and grandparents to visit. It doesn’t help when you have a sick child and need to be able to speed to the doctor at any moment. It doesn’t do the job when you have two or three kids who need to be at two different places clear across town within moments of each other. Now, sure, this could be argued as a matter of lifestyle choices. The in-laws could move within walking distance. You could do all of your shopping in small trips around the neighborhood. You could buy a $3000 cargo bike to replace your car. But, like I said, above, our city is just not at a place yet where being completely car-free is a practical decision for most families. Until it is, let’s stop pulling the “Just get rid of your car” card on people who really would like to find a way to make it work for their family.

Okay, now let me be frank for a second. 

My husband and I knew what we were getting into when we moved here. We knew that parking could be difficult. And for the past seven years, we’ve dealt with it as one of a few nuisances among the many benefits of city living. We have also adapted our lifestyle to make it easier on ourselves and, at this point, can go quite a few days without actually needing to use our family vehicle. But I’ll admit that there are times when I’ve been so angry with how hard it is to find a decent parking space that I take those laps around the block red-faced and cursing under my breath so my kids can’t hear.

I don’t consider us your “average family.” Your average family may have never moved here in the first place. And they most certainly are not going to move to place that almost requires playing the parking game we have these days in OTR.

So why does it matter? Do we really want a bunch of average families moving to the urban core of our city. 

Yes, absolutely.

And if you want a city that the average family actually considers livable, you have to build your city with them in mind. Amenities like grocery stores and affordable restaurants are key; healthy and thriving schools are an absolute necessity. Add the availability of family-sized housing that is affordable and offers off-street or near (affordable) parking, and they’ll be moving in droves. Trust me.

For now and for our city, I’m feeling a little helpless at the moment. Not about the neighborhood, in general, but about its livability for families like mine. High-cost developments and inflated market-rate housing costs have already priced-out most of my peers. Neighborhood schools don’t seem to be improving. And this ridiculous parking situation may, quite honestly, be the nail in the proverbial coffin for most working- and middle-class families.

I know that, from an economic standpoint, parking in busy urban districts can seem to be the quickest way to make a buck. Sure: raise the rates, increase the hours, charge visitors a pretty penny to visit our booming downtown. But we need to remember that it’s a city’s residents and business owners, not its visitors, that keep it alive. What our Mayor and City Council are saying to us right now is, basically, they care far more about making some extra cash than they do about ensuring that the urban core remains a livable community.

And that’s an awful shame.

(Mostly) Unrelated Thoughts

~ ejmcewan ~ 3 Comments

I haven’t said much recently. But our first “real snow” fell yesterday in Cincinnati and I figured I’d use the quiet and calm of the snowy days to finally put a few thoughts together.

The past few months have been rough. I don’t want to go into the specifics here because it’s already been processed and the funk is (hopefully) moving on its way soon enough. But the difficult days have led to a lot of reflecting and self-assessment and big questions about identity and calling.

For as long as I’ve been self-aware enough to realize it, my biggest identity “trap” has always been the question of achievement. This appears in the form of questioning my contribution to the world, how my achievements measure up to those of my peers, and what my career/art/lifestyle resume would say. The big questions come back to me every few months, it seems, and I’ve (mostly) learned to talk them down. I’ve learned the error in valuing myself based on these things alone. And I’ve learned to recognize the way it negatively affects my relationship with the people around me.

But I still want to know that I am “making a difference.” That my contribution matters.

My oldest child turned six last month. I am crazy about my son and I am really enjoying these years of devotion to him and his sisters. But when those questions of personal achievement creep up on me, it’s hard to quantify the value of these years.

My kids are healthy, happy, and thriving.
But are a few decent kids really enough of a contribution?
Will I let it be enough?

I’ve also been thinking a lot about public expression, about social media, about the things we say and do and show online and why we do it. Why do we take so many photographs of ourselves? Of our children? Of the hip clothes we wore today or our newest home gadget or the awesome meal we just made? Why do I feel the need to make an “official statement” about every news story and viral conversation? Does the world really need to know what I think about women wearing yoga pants? (The answer: no.)

This has all underscored, to me, how desperately disconnected we all are. The world of online validation does not make me feel better about myself, how well I executed our last meal, and how well I dress my children. It just makes me feel lonely. Because, you see, I don’t want to show you a picture of last night’s meal or a picture of my kids. I want you to share that meal with me at our table. To talk with me, in real time, about the news and the world and what I think about women wearing yoga pants. And I want you to know my kids. I want you to hear my son’s jokes and my daughters’ songs.

I want to learn how to experience life with other people–not just show them my life online. But I’ve noticed that digital prowess does not translate into social capital. And it doesn’t breed true community. I am not a better wife, mother, or friend thanks to my online persona. In fact, I am sometimes worse because of it. I actually find it harder to connect in real life.

Six years ago, I was staring a new baby in the eyes, amazed by how much I could love someone I didn’t even know. I’m learning that it doesn’t matter if the world of Instagram thinks I love him. It doesn’t matter how many pictures I take of him or memories I keep tucked in a box under the stairs. Time is short and things move fast. He needs to know that I love him now.

It’s the same with all relationships–my husband, my family, my friends, my neighborhood, and my city.

(Somewhat) related: I have a few friends who are trying to navigate the world of dating in their 30’s. And dating today is, apparently, quite a bit different from dating even twenty years ago. Men don’t call. Everyone texts. Relationships begin online and don’t transition well into real life and real conversations.

My heart breaks for my friends who are single and want a partner, but can’t seem to connect with anyone. And, yet, here I am. Married to a wonderful man. And I choose to disengage for the sake of self-preservation and emotional independence. It seems silly, doesn’t it? Silly and sad.

We are so blessed and we don’t even know it.

Have you been to Over-the-Rhine lately?
This neighborhood is alive, so alive that I sometimes feel like a kid watching the merry-go-round at the playground, not sure I move quickly enough to jump on.

I wonder if this neighborhood is leaving me behind. I wonder if there is a role for me to play, if there is anything left for me to contribute. For ten years I’ve loved and worked in this neighborhood. And for seven years I’ve lived here. And if I feel this way after living here only 7 years, how do longer-term residents feel about all the changes?

Do all relationships get the seven-year-itch?
Even our relationships to a place?
How can you love a city through its changes?

The past year has forced my husband and I to reflect a lot on our calling, specifically to this place. Did I ever tell you that we moved here to plant a church? Ask me sometime and I’ll tell you the whole story. (In person.)

So now we ask: is our call to a specific mission, or to a place, or to a people? Again, how can you love a city through its changes? Through the seasons? Through its growth and the ebb and flow of development and the insecurities born from watching the thing that you love walk on without you?

This city doesn’t need me. And that’s a good thing. Because, like I said above, I need to get over myself and my compulsive need to make a contribution. I need to love this city for what it is, not for what I want to make it. This has been an important lesson to learn.

In case it’s not clear, the past year has been full of questions for me.

How can I be a better wife? A better mother? A better friend, daughter, and sister? A better neighbor?

What if I never write another blog? Or another song? Or another smartass Facebook update? Will I feel like a lesser version of myself? Why?

Can I learn to appreciate the small influence I have, where I am, with the people that need me most?

Can I embrace the relationships I’ve been given, rather than the ones I wish I had?

Can I exercise my voice in small circles, with people who are actually listening and learning and teaching me, as well?

Can I balance my responsibility to the most important people in my life with my desire for a contribution to the world outside my door?

I know these things might seem (mostly) unrelated, but they add up to something significant. Namely: where do we go from here? How much of this story is still left to be played-out?

This year marks my tenth anniversary in Cincinnati. I’m hoping that it brings a renewed love for this place, stronger bonds with the people I love, and a little clarity about how I can contribute to making it all better.

Making all of it better, including myself.

Go Play Outside: 10 Tips for Hiking With Kids

~ ejmcewan ~ Leave a comment

Hiking with my kids is perhaps my favorite family activity. I’d take it over a walk downtown, over a romp at a playground, and easily over a trip to Disneyworld. Not only is hiking a fantastic way to exercise, it’s a fun way for me and my kids to burn steam. Living in the city, we need time away from the concrete jungle to beat our bodies against the earth and breathe in some fresh air. It’s good for the soul. Lately, my oldest kids (who share a bedroom and are homeschooled so they rarely spend time apart) have had a hard time getting along while we’re at home. But, the second we are outdoors–the moment there is a tree to climb or a trail to hike–they are best friends again.

For all these reasons, I try to get a hike in at least once a week for me and the kids, even in cold weather. Some of these hikes are in easy, paved areas, but I try to find more rugged, difficult trails if possible. And even though we have a few favorite spots, we’re always trying new areas to keep it exciting.

Even though we hike often, we still have a lot to learn and I still need to seriously amp up my personal fitness before I can consider myself a real hiker. (As a sidenote: for a serious hiking family check these guys out.) But, even if I can’t count myself among the real hiking fanatics, I have learned a few things along the way that I’d like to share. Specifically, ten quick tips for hiking with kids, especially when they’re very young.

So, here you go:

Hike often and hike year-round.

Consistency is key. Because we hike often, we have developed a bit of a rhythm and our kids know what to expect. There is no “But, Mom! It’s cold outside!” conversation at the start of the day. We do our morning at home as usual, then pack up our gear, a snack, and a picnic lunch and then head out the door. We might actually hike for only about an hour, but we leave time for exploring other areas and (usually) a picnic. Because we do this often and in all kinds of weather, it’s now as normal to my kids as a trip to the grocery store. It’s a part of our family culture and something familiar and consistent.

Dress for the weather.

With a few obvious exceptions, I think the adage is true that there is no truly bad weather, just a lack of proper preparation. Think smart–not just “warm.” Dress your kids in layers, not just bulky items. In even moderately cold weather, protect extremities–fingers, toes, and ears. A nice, warm head can easily make up for a few degrees of chill. Consider investing in waterproof hiking boots for the kids and a pair of nice wool socks, rather than expecting them to hike in rain boots when the ground is wet. Look for deals on fleece and wool (its natural counterpart) and quick-dry synthetic materials rather than jeans and cotton. (Why not cotton? Read here.) Keeping your kids comfortable in less-than-perfect hiking weather is key to a successful day out in the woods.

Wear the right shoes.

Your kids might not notice the difference between a $10 gently-used pair of hiking boots and a $80 new pair from REI, but you will. Eventually, cheap footwear takes a toll, so take care of your feet. Especially if you intend to carry one of your children for even part of the hike, don’t skimp on your footwear (or socks!). I have had a few awesome pairs of outdoor shoes in the past. These days, I gravitate toward either a) a pair of light-hiking, waterproof mid-ankle boots (like this) b) a breathable shoe like this, or c) a pair of strap-on Teva waterproof sandals, depending on the weather and where we’ll be hiking.

Invest in a good baby carrier.

If you want to include the littlest members of your family in the hike, invest in a decent baby carrier. Yes, most really great baby carriers will cost you a little money–between $40-150–so I really do mean “invest.” You probably won’t find a good one for $10 at the thrift store, but you can pick one up used on Craigslist or borrow from a friend until you find one you can afford. I bought a Beco Butterfly carrier (most similar to their new Soleil) when my son was just about two and I chose it for three main reasons: a) it was made in the US (not sure if this is still true), b) there were not extra infant pieces to buy like the Ergo and c) it can be used up to 45lbs. I have had the carrier for about 3.5 years now. I am now on the third child using it, and it is still in perfect condition. I use this carrier to carry my one year-old when I hike–usually on my front when she is napping and on my back while she’s awake. When she is a bit older, I will let her hike and use the carrier as a backup when she gets tired. Just a note: when my third child was a teeny infant, I used a Moby Wrap that a friend gave me and it was perfect, especially for chilly days. Also, I know some people use real “hiking carriers.” I’ve never had the budget for one, but I’ve heard good things about them especially on longer hikes or when you need a backpack on in addition to the carrier.

Learn what to pack (or not pack) in your bag.

Unless my husband is hiking with us to carry it, I don’t bother carrying a backpack since I’ll be carrying a baby. Instead, I let my five year-old carry any of our “gear” for the hike. Unless we’re on vacation away from home, our hikes are under 2 miles and we don’t need much more than the cursory emergency supplies. In his small backpack, my son carries: a water bottle that we can share if we need it, a small snack for emergencies, safety whistles (with built-in compasses) for him and his sister (sometimes they wear them), my car keys, a small first aid kit, a headlamp (mostly just for fun), and a set of binoculars. I carry my phone in my pocket (unless I don’t have a pocket!) and a trail map, if we have one. I’ve been looking for a small fanny-pack that I can wear with my baby carrier if I need it. And it’s almost time for my three year-old to start to carry a backpack, too. But, our car has a pretty substantial emergency kit stocked at all times, so we have things at our disposal if we need them when we arrive at our hiking location or back at the car after the hike (extra diapers, blankets, extra hats and gloves, emergency snacks and water, first-aid, phone charger, etc.).

Learn how to read a map, then teach your kids.

Before planning our hiking location for the day, I look up a trail map online and save it to my phone. This way, even if we don’t have cell phone reception in the woods, the map has been saved to my phone. I have a great sense of direction and am working on teaching my son basic orienteering so he can read the maps himself. Most Cincinnati and Hamilton County parks also have paper copies of their maps, so you can pick one up when you arrive. I usually try to pick a loop trail that will pass us by a ridge or creekbed and then back to our car.

Let your kids take the lead.

Whether they know how to read a map or not, let your kids lead the hike as much as they are inclined. When we hike, my two oldest trade off in the front and I stay last in line. I may remind them of things like poison ivy (when I spot it) or to slow down when the trail goes downhill or “Hey! Look at that!” when I spot something cool. But it’s a lot of fun to let them set the pace and explore on their own. It’s amazing the things they notice and find interest in. As their parent, take note of those things so you can follow-up at home or during your next hike. Don’t make it more “educational” than they can stand, but take moments to teach about edible plants, interesting natural phenomena, or other cool stuff like mushrooms or animal remains. Yesterday, we spotted an in-tact bird skeleton on the trail. Super cool. And, lately, my kids have been “hunting for Big Foot.” (I’ll let you know if we find him.)

Open your eyes; open your ears.

Stop every so often. Maybe stop and sit for a while. Look down; look up. Find something you’ve never seen before. Guess what it might be. Encourage the kids to close their eyes and listen. Our lives are surrounding by so much noise, it’s amazing the subtle sounds you can hear when the noise of life is absent. Birds. Falling acorns. Breeze. Distant city noise. Yesterday, we noticed that fall–Autumn–was literally happening all around us. We could tell by the bustle of the woods. It was busy!

Invite friends.

We hike alone quite a bit, but it’s always fun to invite friends to join us. A few years ago, I started a Family Hiking Club, but it was too hard for me to maintain a Saturday schedule for the hikes. I’m now toying with the idea of starting a new hiking club, specifically for people with babies (older kids and friends would be welcome to join, as well). But, you don’t need a “hiking club” to explore the woods with some friends. My kids love hiking with their friends and it’s nice to have another mom/dad/mom & dad to talk with while the kids keep busy. You can also share hiking tips and snacks and nature trivia as you go. Some of my best hikes have been with people who knew far more than me about wildflowers or bird calls. I still have a lot to learn!

Be a good example.

There have been times when I thought I was going to pass out on the trail (like when I was 8m pregnant with Number 3 and two year-old Number 2 insisted on being carried up that last hill). Your kids will take cues from you. Whine and complain, they will whine and complain; show fear when you spot a nasty, crawly insect, they will be afraid. But, let your sense of adventure and curiosity get the best of you and they will, too. Even if you aren’t sure you’ll make it up that next hill, spend more time encouraging them to “keep going” than worrying about yourself. You’ll all make it together. Practice responsible hiking, be smart, and take care of those hiking with you. Be a good example and your kids will grow into excellent, responsible hikers as they age.

 

It doesn’t matter if you’re pushing a stroller down a paved walkway or bolstering yourself for that final pass. Pack a bag, grab the kids, and head to the woods.

And then I’d love to hear more tips for hiking with kids, or hiking in general.
Share them if you have them!

The Blessing of Daily Bread

~ ejmcewan ~ 2 Comments

A little more faith talk for you.

 

Growing up Baptist, the Lord’s Prayer was familiar to me, but not a part of my daily life. Now, for the past few years, my husband and I have begun praying the words of that prayer every night with our children at bedtime. It is, after all, the way Jesus taught his disciples to pray. So, even if we know that there is nothing magical in the words themselves, internalizing the content of the prayer is important to understanding the proper way to frame our own prayers.

How many times have you prayed (or heard) the Lord’s Prayer without actually considering the implications of asking God for “our daily bread?”

The idea of daily bread was significant for those who heard Jesus’ words on the day he delivered the Sermon on the Mount (which includes the Lord’s Prayer). For generations, the Israelites had passed down the stories of how God provided for them in the wilderness with “bread from heaven,” the manna that lasted just long enough to be consumed and wasted away if hoarded for the next day. (For a good, quick discussion of the Biblical concept of “daily bread,” you can read this post by R.C. Sproul.)

When we take Jesus’ example seriously and ask for daily bread, we are truly going out on a limb. The implication of that prayer is that we will trust God to provide, daily, what we need. Nothing more. Nothing less.

And, sometimes, that’s exactly what he gives.

Daily bread.

Nothing more.
Nothing less.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been well-acquainted with “bread from heaven” during certain seasons of my life. And even if the depth of “need” that I’ve experienced in my life is minor in comparison to the depth of need experienced by others next door, down the street, or around the world, that desperate feeling of neediness is the same. And our response–our posture toward God–really should be the same. “Give us this day our daily bread…” Whether that translates as a new job, next month’s rent, or (literally) food for tomorrow, these are the moments when faith is tried. And when we have to ask whether we really believe God is waiting at the other end of that prayer, poised to rain down bread from heaven.

Desperation.
Have you ever felt it?

Have you ever been in a place where you knew that a miracle–even a small one–was what stood between you and your next meal, next car payment, next pay check, or next doctor’s bill?

And have you ever considered that these seasons of living on daily bread are actually a blessing?

 

Living on daily bread gives us perspective on the difference between want and need.

Have you ever noticed that the less you consume something, the easier it is live without it? Spending money is a habitual behavior. For some of us, it’s an addiction. But when we simply cannot have something we want–a nicer car or an updated kitchen, for example–we realize (eventually) that we are fine without it. With some heart-work, our desires start to diminish and we gain a new perspective on what we truly need. (Spoiler: it ain’t much.) And when we know how little we truly need, God surprises us with the enjoyment of its simplicity.

Living on daily bread re-orders our priorities and proves what we value most.

When we’ve learned to live without many of the things we desire, the way we spend the money we do have says a lot of about what we value. Have you noticed that (with exceptions, obviously) the demographic most likely to invest their livelihood in raising a large family is the demographic with the least amount to invest? Have you ever asked why people would rather adopt another child or pay for someone to attend college or loan a stranger money than take another European vacation? Priorities. Show me how you spend your money and I’ll tell you what you value most.

Living on daily bread teaches us when “enough is enough.”

Once we are able to re-order our priorities, we get a better picture of what is enough for us and for our family. And we learn when to quit reaching for more. This is what motivates a man or woman to relinquish their “earning potential” and turn down a promotion or a high-paying job so that they can spend more time with their kids or serving their community. It’s that moment when we stand before the shiny, new things that we could have, and say to ourselves, “No, this other one is enough; I’ll be happy with this.”

Living on daily bread saves us from the delusion that we are self-made men.

Independence and security are counterproductive to a life of faith. I really believe this. The rugged individualism that builds nations and corporations and mega-churches is the same thing that blurs our vision of the difference between God and man. Who really holds the cards here? I don’t care if you are a millionaire or a beggar. Unless you are aware of your own inability to “make things happen,” then your faith is in yourself, not in God. You still believe that if you play your cards (or the stock exchange or the real estate market) right that you’ll be able to store up enough “bread” to last a lifetime. But, we’ve been told: “do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal.” Our investments should be in eternal treasures, things that spring from God and not from ourselves.

Living on daily bread cultivates contentment, which produces generosity.

Along with treasure, contentment is something else that comes from God and grows over time. Contentment is satisfaction with what he has provided for me, regardless of what he has provided for someone else. It puts an end to comparison and envy and, funny enough, it actually produces generosity. Once we are free from obsessing over the things we don’t have, we loosen our sense of ownership over what we do have. We share more. We give things away. We invite others to join in and enjoy the blessings we have received. Whether it be an extra hamburger at lunch or a million dollar donation, this is where it becomes obvious the difference between someone who feels entitled to their wealth and someone who feels indebted to God for it.

Living on daily bread keep us looking up to the One who provides.

When we know that everything we have comes as a gift from God, we begin to orient ourselves to him and not to the world. And then the daily bread that keeps us alive and well–our money, our homes, our skills, etc.–moves us beyond survival and into service. This circles back to our priorities, of course, as we begin to re-order our lives toward the Kingdom of God rather than our own kingdoms. And this is where God multiplies our blessing. Not for all of us in all the same ways, of course. But always to the same end.

 

I am still trying to learn to see the blessing in living on daily bread. My heart is still prone to want more and better and “what she has” and I am so, so very anxious about everything these days. But I am learning. And I understand more today than I did yesterday how precious are the gifts that rain down on me every single day. And, every night, as we pray that God would “give us our daily bread,” I mean it more.

In a few weeks, with my son officially beginning his first term of kindergarten here at home, our daily meditation will be the same each morning:

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” (Matthew 6:25-33)

This is what we’ll be working toward memorizing (and learning!) together this year so that it’s written on our hearts and minds.