This June—on the 6th, to be exact—our family celebrates 10 years of freedom.

A full decade has passed since we walked away from a Controlling Unchecked Leadership Theocracy. They saddle members with a weekly agenda of sanctified micromanagement which fuels familial disconnect, They have a decades-long history of consuming families, co-opting their wealth, all their free time, and collective futures, with nothing to show for it. They are people eaters, family eaters.

We left for two main reasons:

This was an environment of mandatory attendance at 4 long weekly services, unpaid labor, midnight phone calls, constant special offerings… Drain, drain, drain. With no acknowledgment or grasp of what they were usurping. First, families deserve a chance to thrive— to taste a joyful life together without constant stress and interruptions. In our case, from what the leadership suddenly needed or regularly expected of its members.

Second, we believe that family is a sacred opportunity, even a mandate, to cultivate a legacy that both glorifies God and satisfies our souls. Leaving was an act of trusting Jesus as Lord of our family.

Rejecting that place and their ideology initially opened me up to tricky moments of self-doubt. Is setting boundaries and saying NO a sin? But with distance came clarity: “Family first” doesn’t ruffle Jesus in the slightest. On the contrary, he champions me as I prioritize intentionally connecting to my husband, son, and daughter. He appoints us to nurture our families in the unique way that only we can; no one will do this in our place if we are lured away by other concerns. I remain firmly convicted that to “touch the world” but neglect my family is ungodly.

Lifelong closeness doesn’t happen automatically—blood and vows aren’t guarantees.

Wise parents know: relationships don’t thrive on the back burner. No, connection is built by purposing to slow down, by resolving to limit extra commitments. This continual decision afforded us a decade of mostly unhurried family dinners, bike rides and sunset walks, park dates, and beach jaunts. We celebrated our family on swinging bridges in Costa Rica, at ancient pyramids in Mexico, and along countless cross-country road trips. Being together never ceases to be a very big deal.

Ten years later, Steve and I are humbled and radiant with joy. When we look at the life we now share—the emotional closeness, shared and vibrant faith, even the material stability—we feel immense gratitude. It feels like an absolute miracle how much we have recovered.

Just recently, I turned 45. We celebrated in St. Augustine with our Eagle Scout and pilot son, and our college senior daughter. The highlight? Watching them crack up with laughter as they traded old family stories across the dinner table. I froze the moment in my mind. This—this was the vision! A connected family. Whole, joyful, with more wonder and possibilities unfurling into the future.

We did it. And we’re still doing it—holding tight to Jesus and to one another, and to the dear friends we have all made on this journey.

PS

The Controlling Unchecked Leadership Theocracy regularly preached that their organization was a special “ark,” “a safe place,” where families would fall apart if they left. This created phobias and dependency. Each time we saw a precious family unravel, leadership deflected blame— questioning their integrity, their parenting, and their faith. In truth, the root of the problem was the Theocracy itself. It is a system that demands too much, gives too little, and masks control as righteousness. We will continue to recount our story for whoever it helps— and to let our character and legacy speak for themselves.

In the last few months and weeks of my dad’s life, he– necessarily– began to check out. Check out of his community, check out of relationships, and finally to check out of his body. The Bible says to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. We’ve heard of people having near-death experiences walking toward the light– maybe they are slowpokes when it comes to leaving their body, they need an extra minute to get ready for what they are about to see. Because when someone believes that Jesus is the only son of the only God, the only way to the Father, and they live their life approaching the Father, when they check out of their bodies, they open their eyes in the throne room. They finally truly get to the Father. 

I have imagined heaven in different ways at different times in my life. Lately, as the most massive walled, open-sky auditorium imaginable. A cross between a stadium and a palace, outfitted with immense beauty and wealth, full of light and sound, filled with nobility, and dedicated to the One. His house is continually full of thunderous worship, seas upon seas upon seas of people who lived and died knowing that He is the only way, the only truth, the only life. 

It doesn’t matter anymore what my dad was good at or bad at, what his sins, failures, and shortcomings were, what he was wrong about or right about, what he prioritized and neglected. In life, as in death, the blood of Jesus pays the debt my dad owed. This is the gospel, we all sin and fall short of the glory we were meant to walk in. We all get the opportunity in this life to seek the Father and have the blood of Jesus cover for us. So when my Dad opened his eyes outside of his cancer-ridden body, the first thing he saw was Jesus and the first thing he heard was holy, holy, holy. Is the Lord God Almighty. Who was, and is, and is to come. And I know this filled him with relief… and joy. He knew how to join in, he was ready to become part of the sea of worshipers.

I believe we are all eternal beings, every single one of us. We will never actually cease to exist, matter that cannot be destroyed. My dad didn’t have a very wide circle, so I imagine all of you here are believers. But allow me to kindly address those who may not be, those who know in your gut that seeking the Father isn’t the central theme of your life. One day, we all will open our eyes beyond the capsule of our bodies. At the moment, we receive our inheritance. But this inheritance isn’t for everyone; it is reserved for sons and daughters who sought the Father in their lifetime. If that description doesn’t apply to you, this day could be when you divert course. There is still the luxury of choice lying before you.

I Corinthians 15

50 What I am saying, dear brothers and sisters (sons and daughters), is that our physical bodies cannot inherit the Kingdom of God. These dying bodies cannot inherit what will last forever.

51 But let me reveal to you a wonderful secret. We will not all die, but we will all be transformed! 54 Then, when our dying bodies have been transformed into bodies that will never die, this Scripture will be fulfilled:

“Death is swallowed up in victory.

55 O death, where is your victory?

O death, where is your sting?”

56 For sin is the sting that results in death, and the law gives sin its power.

57 But thank God! He gives us victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ.

58 So, my dear brothers and sisters, (sons and daughters) be strong and immovable.

Always work enthusiastically for the Lord, for you know that nothing you do for the Lord is ever useless.

Parents will universally understand what I am about to say. When we have our first child, the entire process from the initial doctor’s visit to their first birthday feels— if we’re being completely honest here — equal parts wonderous and nerve-wracking. By the time they reach birthday #2 in all its messy, glorious celebration, many of us babymakers are on a bliss high. That’s when we think cooly to ourselves, “We should replicate our success.” …Only to discover that kid #2 has a completely different instruction manual. They share features with their sibling, but their personality, preferences, and motivations are exclusive.

Each child calls for a unique parenting strategy

Hard Rock Cafe Puerto Rico

Raising our two teenagers is the most joyful, intense experience Steve and I could ever share. We celebrate the unique contributions each one brings to this family. Adrienne, our vibrant, artistic little extrovert with a natural inclination to share her art and ideas and to make connections with the best people. Addison, the strapping young man who loves every kind of sport and science, stays quiet for long periods but can talk in depth about what he learns by being insatiably curious.

Here’s what throws me for a loop: having first guided an extrovert through adolescence, I pivot to help Addison through the same stage. I discover the two processes are nothing alike. It’s a lot quieter and less busy. He has friends but prefers to engage with them one-on-one, enjoys team sports but not big parties, and says yes to short invites but no to overnight things. His forte is to set and crush individualistic goals— fitness, Eagle Scout, A+ grades, and athletic skills.

Commence worrying in 3…2…1

Eagle Scout Project: 5 Little Free Libraries

Nevertheless, I  couldn’t yet recognize him as introverted because it was still an emerging feature of his personality. Perhaps the more teens grow independent from us (as they should), the more their adult self is revealed. We always have homeschooled; I wondered if perhaps my student-led education style steered him into this quiet phase. Would introversion lead to a less successful, contented life? I attempted to introduce him to even more opportunities completely out of his comfort zone. Though my intentions were loving, some of my prodding actually worked against his best interests.

At the summit of my apprehension, I had lunch with a dear friend who is also an introvert. Like we moms are inclined to do, I bragged about my kids and because I am safe with Haley, I also shared my concerns. Addison’s latest thing is to retreat to his room with the door shut. This goes against the grain of our connected family lifestyle. My own family of origin felt so disconnected. When we weren’t at church, each member did their own thing and it was rather lonely. Was this what Addison preferred now as a teen?

So I assigned meaning to his closed door and worried about him. You cannot actually make a teen do anything they don’t want to do, especially when they are 6’1″ and strong-willed. Notwithstanding that, we badgered him to leave the door open. At our lunch, Haley gently suggested that his room is simply a quiet space for him to recharge. She behaved similarly at that same age. Perhaps I should reinterpret his closed door and reconsider any cause for alarm.

The introvert test

Building cairns in the Black Hills

Haley recommended Quiet by Susan Cain. Cain writes about common societal misperceptions of introverts and even how our culture rewards extroverts. There are even resources to teach us all how to “tap into our inner extrovert.” This book is illuminating to me as an ambivert mother of an introverted teen boy. Her work depicts the power of introverts whose contributions came not from morphing into an extrovert, but from being true to themselves. Eleanor Roosevelt, Bill Gates, Warren Buffet, J.K. Rowling, just to name a few. Cain offers a free “Quiet Quiz” which Steve, Addison, and I took together. Addison lit up as we discussed each answer. We learned volumes about one another in the conversation this test sparked.

Following this sweet time with him, we set some parameters around time alone in his room.

• Would he please continue to eat meals and snacks with us at the table?
• Watching shows or movies is for the living room.
• Computer time should remain limited for mental health, the classic screen struggle.
• Our family does have a preset to get outside and exercise every day for all the benefits it provides, so we didn’t need to reinforce that one.
• Most nights, dinner is followed by a family activity, another preset we didn’t have to debate.

Presently, my son’s door is shut. He is in there typing his Eagle Scout application and video chatting with a friend. He is, as Haley calls it, in recharge mode. If I were to knock and ask him to run errands with me, he will generally say yes. I know because I test it out periodically to reassure myself— mom hack.

Closed door, open hearts

Flying over Kansas City

Consequently, I can lay aside all anxiety about Addison. That’s not to say Steve and I don’t still prod him a bit whenever prudent. Recently he went to a water park with friends and stayed around later for pizza and chess. It’s no big deal to us that he also turned down a youth retreat invite.

Proverbs 22 encourages parents to raise kids in the way they should; when they’re old, they will not depart from it. Our joyful role for our kids— be they introverts, extroverts, or ambiverts — is to assist them in discovering that way. How can they best thrive as the person God created them to be? In turn, God empowers us to craft homes where their growth is cultivated and celebrated. We have to diligently set this as a priority in every season of our parenting journey. I encourage us all to remain doggedly focused, especially during the “under-our-roof years.”

Raising teens is a delicate process, for wholehearted and not faint-of-heart. Cheers, and a whole lot of grace, to us all!

Does this ever happen to you? I lay awake at night with my brain flitting through all the pieces of my life that are up in the air right now, alternating from mild worry and tentative possibilities to out-and-out panic. I toss and turn, finally fall into a fitful sleep, and then start the day with a vague sense of dread and a headache. Recently, I found myself trapped in this cycle for a few weeks.

To be fair, I have a lot going on at the moment. Steve and I are launching our oldest, Adrienne, into university. I am so proud of her… and also worried: Will she be safe in a new environment far from home? We homeschooled K-12; did I do the ultimate job preparing her? We got the first tuition bill already and holy Moses, those zeros! Will we adjust to the new rhythm without her— just my son at home, no other females to keep me company? Speaking of Addison, is he too introverted for his own good? Could I be doing more in homeschooling to help him appreciate social opportunities? My husband is orchestrating a community project, investing a load of unpaid hours. It’s brutal to watch such a kind, patient man receive criticism from a few brash, uninformed people. I’m also working this summer on something emotionally intense, at a local organization for human trafficking survivors. And then there’s The Big One that is a struggle to even write: my father is sick. We’re not close. My upbringing was simply calamitous. Nevertheless, he still matters to me. No family is ever ready enough.

Shame Spiraling

Before too long, I was exhausted by this fear and worry constantly heating up in my brain. It was as problematic as trying to power through the flu. I remained in this cycle of turmoil because I labeled it grief, inevitable and unavoidable. In my experience, when grief turns on it spiderwebs to all the other places that still hurt.  I replayed all the mistakes I’ve ever made as a wife, a mother, a daughter, a neighbor, a Christian. What if I were more thoughtful, tried harder, and negotiated with more grace? If only I were a stronger, more capable Melissa. I said to myself, “The present status is probably because I am not enough.” I’m a faulted person and I have so much to answer for and dig out from under. This process was one of self-incrimination and, as Brene Brown calls it, shame spiraling. 

It pains me to see people who neglect to make self-care a top priority! The cost seems glaringly obvious to me because I have lived at both ends of the spectrum. At one point, I was Addicted to Busy and letting personal matters slide big time. My life structure was haphazardous, based on some misguided religious logic about serving others and living sacrificially. The end result was that my health fell apart.

On bed rest, I finally had all the time in the world to reflect. My life, especially as a woman of faith, is meant to exude joy, peace so thick I can rest in it, and the energy of love. The reality at that point was the opposite. I hated that habitual self-neglect made me a cranky bystander in my own life. My precious family was on the back burner. It seemed like I never had time to slow down and enjoy the world around me. Unfortunately, I believe this is an all too common scenario… people swamped by commitments, jumping from one activity to the next, never really living, and often unsatisfied with the outcome.

As my body healed, I fell in love with this new vitality and peace! I decided this is the direction I wanted to maintain, toward joy and longevity. I left behind a doctrine of viewing neglect as holiness, unapologetically! Turns out, the power to care for me (and my family) cannot be outsourced to a pastor or any other person. So, I implemented new boundaries that prioritized my personal well-being above all else. Then I thought, “what daily steps do I need to take for this to actually stick?” I made one list and then another, but homeschool nerd mom that I am, I finally arranged it into an acronym, BLESSED.

Homeschooling is a bit like parenting on steroids. We wear more hats than simply Mom or Dad — principal, project manager, teacher, event coordinator… Plus, we’re spending the majority of our days together, and this proximity is often a pressure cooker.

Take a step back though. What is the whole goal of this homeschool effort, if not to encourage our students to grow in responsibility and to be curious about the world around them? We committed to this journey with joy and excitement, but being constantly mired in conflicts muddles our progress. Let’s recapture the secret power of a home-based education: togetherness.

The Bible mentions two times a warning that comes into play for homeschooling parents. First, “Do not embitter your children, or they will become discouraged,” and also “Do not exasperate your children.” What can we do to encourage our kids, to give them our energy and enthusiasm for learning? How can we avoid conflict and exasperation?

1. We are slow to be angry and quick to say sorry. 

We always use please, thank you, and all other kind and gentle words.

2. We speak truth because lies damage our relationships.

3. We behave like “you are more important than me.” 

We know adults deserve special honor.  We know family = treasure.

4. We know our parents want us safe. We ask before we go anywhere. 

We don’t keep secrets. We share about our day.

5. We act like Brendtros  and children of God wherever we are, to bring honor to both names.

6. We know our parents look for ways to bless us and we look for ways to bless others. 

7. We are careful with things, no matter who owns it. We ask to borrow. We choose to share. 

We enjoy tidy spaces and we clean up after ourselves

8. We are happy to be in a healthy house. 

We ask for snacks, eat what is offered, say thanks, clean up, and don’t dally.   

9. We do what we are told. We do it fast.

We don’t argue or whine. We know no means no.

10. We brush, bathe and get beautiful without reminders.

We love being clean and ready on time.

If you know me, you know I am very competitive. The possibility of beating a perceived challenge is pure motivation. So today is our 21st wedding anniversary and — DRUMROLL PLEASE — according to the statistics, Steve and I are marriage champions! The average American wedding ends in divorce in a mere 8.2 years (or weirdly, 12.2 if you’re a New Yorker).

All joking aside, this dismal statistic causes a swell of sorrow. We cannot imagine what our lives would be if we had checked out at year 8; we would have missed the most outstanding parts! If I sound overly optimistic or traditional, it’s only because holding on to this relationship has enriched the quality of life. That said, we had a fight this summer that felt monumental.  It was immensely frustrating and took a solid week to negotiate. I found myself wishing that we were all much franker about what it takes to remain married —  joyfully, without killing each other. For this reason, I am highlighting 5 traits that make our marriage robust for two decades and counting.

A whole lifetime ago, I was a yes woman. My commitment button was stuck on auto. Nothing made me hesitate; everything sounded like a worthy cause. Pick up a mentally ill church member from the hospital, take a meal to a stranger who had just had a baby, lead a team at the homeless shelter – why sure, I’d love to. I was a volunteer organizer’s dream.

Why would anyone do that to themselves, especially a mother with her own family to care for? Well for one, I was raised that way. My parents did not demonstrate boundaries; they never granted themselves permission to prioritize their own family first. Some people are raised in the church but I was raised by the church. We literally had a saying, “If the doors are open, we are there.” I can’t recall how many special events my siblings and I either missed or attended all alone because of a church conflict. Now that I am a parent, this makes my heart sad. But back then, I avoided thinking about what I needed or deserved because it felt selfish and shameful.

The phone rang the first week of November with news that altered our lives forever. It’s the kind of news that hits you simultaneously in the chest and also behind the knees. By the end of the day, we had launched into high gear and rearranged everything to savor the last moments of life with someone we treasured, Steve’s mom.

During this time, Steve packed a suitcase and flew out of state immediately after Thanksgiving.  He returned after Adrienne took her SAT test and then we all traveled together to his family’s home, where we stayed for over a month. Never have we so aptly appreciated the flexibility of homeschool, plus owning our own business. Mobilizing was somewhat stressful but we were so grateful to have the power of choice.

Grief is a Disorienting Experience

Have you ever been tumbled by a series of massive waves? It was as though we’d been knocked down and the ocean continued to pummel us until we didn’t know which direction was up. We were in the grip of it, with neither control nor certainty about what would happen next. The one thing we wanted to preserve was slipping away from her family day by day.