I’ve sensed it for years, but now I’m going to openly come out and say it. I’ve allowed some input in my 40 some years of life that I certainly wish I hadn’t because now when I really don’t want it to, it becomes a part of my output.
I remember working at a Christian summer camp and one of the books in our campfire songbook was called, “Input, Output.” The song told the simple story that your mind is like a computer (yes, we had those back then) and what you put into it is what you get out of it. Catchy little tune and true little message. Wish I had been true to it more.
I’ll heartily agree that there are some folks on the fringe out there who try to over spiritualize everything, but the fact of the matter is that sometimes a song is just a song and a joke is just a joke and a movie is just a movie. That being said, there are songs, jokes and movies out there that taught things I now wish I had never learned. Perhaps it is my age and maybe there are more 40 somethings out there that find things from their 20’s, give or take, are coming back when they least expect it.
I’m more determined than ever to pay attention to the input I’m receiving. From experience, I’ve learned how important guarding your input can be. I just hope I can teach this lesson to my kids in such a way that they don’t have to learn the hard way, like I did.
In that great source of intellectual wisdom known as Facebook, I ran across a list of “Rules for Dating My Son.” As a mother of two fantastic boys, I was glad to see this end of the picture finally getting some attention. Since I have a daughter as well, of course I appreciate the Dad’s Rules for Dating my Daughter. But for once, it’s nice to focus on our boys.
The one that got me the most was that if you show up looking like a stripper, I will make you go away. So many young ladies are selling themselves short. The media has done a good job of pounding out their message that sex sells. In some instances, they are right. But the people that sex sells to, aren’t necessarily the ones you want to hang around with.
So, young ladies, if you show up to my house looking like a stripper and you want to date my son, I promise you, I will make you go away! But I probably won’t get a chance. My boys will ask you to change before I do. My sons already tell me how girls trying to show their cleavage and so forth bothers them and makes them uncomfortable. If you show up to my house looking like a stripper – you don’t even know my son well enough to date him!
There are three “men” in the house, yet I’m the one that has to vacuum up unwanted bugs. If I’m in a humane mood, I will trap a stray cricket (we have lots in Texas) and release it outside. I’ve done this for wasps and bees as well.
Karl has hated bugs for as long as I’ve known him. Our oldest, he is not so fond of bugs, but he can at least look at them. It is spiders that really freaks Michael out! Matthew doesn’t mind bugs, unless it is time to get rid of one. Then he has a difficult time being the one to hear it go suck up into the vacuum.
So that leaves Greta and I to rid the house of the occasional stray bug, like tonight. Bless her heart, even Greta had to call in the expert. Mom to the rescue. It’s a good thing I’ve accepted the fact that the men in the family hate bugs and I’m okay with it.