Love Wins--I Believe it Does, Not Sure Everyone Agrees

Yesterday I was happy dancing--literally; well, I was happy

I've already ordered my t-shirt

dancing until my almost 15 year old said, "You really have to stop doing that.  You're old--you're going to hurt yourself."  (I admit it was not my best dancing...)  But when the ruling from SCOTUS came down ruling in favor of same-sex marriage, my hands started shaking, tears streamed down my face and I just wanted to dance. Pictures of all those I know and love dearly who have been waiting for this day--to love the person they love openly, legally and not just civil union but MARRIAGE kept leaping to my mind. (For the record, while I have been passionate about this, my reaction caught me completely off guard..)

I started texting friends who have waited their whole lives for this moment.  I wanted to start planning the wedding of two of my dearest friends who have seen me through the ups and downs of the last year and now I get to marry them--legally and in Kentucky if they so choose!!!  My facebook feed was blowing up with rainbow colors and I kept dancing--in my room away from the gaze of my judgmental children (they judge no one but me....).  And then suddenly I froze...

I started thinking about people I know who weren't happy dancing (and not because they care what their children think)--people I know and care about--good people, faithful people, but people who I knew were not celebrating.  I started thinking about people who I know have struggled with this issue and for their own reasons do not see things the way I do.  I started thinking about deep conversations I have had with people who have prayed and studied and what they believe--deeply believe--is that marriage is between a man and a woman period.

I thought particularly about a conversation I had just this past year where the person said, "I know if the Supreme Court rules for same sex marriage and if during General Convention the Episcopal Church agrees, I will be on the outside and I wonder how people will treat me."  When this person said it to me, there was sadness in the voice and this person continued with, "I suspect I'll feel very lonely and alone."

I have to admit, there was a part of me that wants to say and stand behind, "Now you'll know how our LGBT brothers and sisters have felt all these years.  Now maybe you'll see why this is so important. See how it feels?" Okay, I am saying that a little bit.  But, my heart is also hurting that there will still be people who feel lonely and on the outside.  I believe yesterdays ruling is carrying us one step (many steps) closer to the Kingdom of God, but knowing there are still those who feel excluded--who feel on the outside,  I also know we're not there yet.

I can't change how I feel--I won't apologize for believing what I believe INCLUSIVITY FOR ALL--marriage for all.  I believe to my very core this is good and right and holy.  Nonetheless, I can try to understand others--I can try.  So I sent an email to my friend just to say I remembered the conversation and I hoped that loneliness and exclusion would not be felt--I just wanted this person to know I remembered.  And then I returned to my dancing....

Disclaimer: This is a hard blog to write.  I want to only celebrate; I want people to say as my children did when they were very little, "Why does anyone care who marries who? Why is it anyone's business?"I want to think those who don't agree with me are ignorant; I want to believe that one day they'll "see the light", but that is denying their rights to believe as they do.  And I believe we are called to love everyone--those with whom we agree and those with whom we don't.  And I believe we are all welcomed at the table--God loves EVERYONE no exceptions.

Back Stories

Two weeks ago (Was it only 2 weeks?  It feels like a lifetime...) on a Thursday, the girls were out running, Winnie got off her leash and was hit by a car.  I wasn't home (part of the back story), but when I got home, I assessed the situation; it didn't seem bad--she barely whimpered and continued walking (okay limping) around. So I decided in my overly physically, emotionally and spiritually exhausted state to just watch her.  (And yes I would like to publicly acknowledge this was my decision alone as Chris was out of town--he shares no blame--in fact I was so overwhelmed I forgot to even tell him....)

To SK's credit, she kept saying, "We should probably get her checked."  By Friday late afternoon Chris was home and we agreed to have her checked on Monday if she didn't seem better.  SK kept pushing; finally I exasperatedly said, "Fine.  You take her." (Yes, I abdicated my parental authority.) So she did (without eye rolls I will add). The girls loaded her into the car and headed off to our vet. Not 30 minutes later the phone rang--it was bad--a broken radius; she would need to go immediately to a specialist, and she needed surgery.

I thought the girls would head straight out there, but they came home first.  I'm glad they did as it gave me a chance to regroup and become a responsible adult--I went with them.  (Now here's a real confession--on Friday I spent the day at the pool--it's not why I didn't take her earlier, but it did help me forget--forget the accident, forget the back story.)  The three of us loaded this 50 pound dog in the car in our flip flops, cover ups and bathing suits--it was 6:30 on a Friday evening--not exactly my idea of happy hour....

We arrived and were immediately put into a room and Winnie was whisked into the back to be assessed.  The receptionist returned and gave us an update on what would need to happen.  We had already commented that she wasn't exactly friendly, but remember, it was 6:30 on a Friday night--she was young and probably not thrilled to still be at work.  I began to ask a few questions which she abruptly answered. (I tried really hard not to look at Caroline who I feel certain was not hiding her disgust...)

We agreed to leave her for the weekend and have surgery first thing Monday morning.  Young girl, "I need $4000 please. And we don't take checks."  (Note she did say please...)  Both girls looked at me. "I don't even have my wallet here," I started to explain.  Young girl, "So you don't have $4000?  You can pay $2000 now."  I refrained from saying, "I don't think you heard me--I don't have my wallet and I'm pretty sure that indicates I don't have $2000.  Seriously, I don't have $2000 in cash in my pocket!"  She continued, "You can use a credit card."  Clearly she wasn't listening to me say I DIDN'T HAVE MY WALLET.  (So I wasn't going to tell her that years ago Chris and I got rid of credit cards.)

"So you can't pay for it?" young girl repeated. "No, I'm sorry--not tonight. We're going to have to move some money around.  I can see what I can do by Monday."  At this the girls had tears in their eyes and are offering to help pay.  She clearly was not recognizing the pain and distress so obvious on their faces and in their voices.  "Can you move the money now?"  "M'am," I said, "It's 6:30 on a Friday evening--banks are closed.  I'll have to wait until Monday morning." "Well," she rudely said, "You'll have to take her home and hope for the best before Monday.  I'll let them know you can't pay."

On the outside I was trying to remain calm but inside I was shaking.  As she left I went into my typical social justice tirade.  "How rude!!!  What if we really couldn't pay--seriously how many people have $4000 just sitting in their checking account.  And there are MANY people who wouldn't have $4000 anywhere--they would have to save.  And guess what?  It doesn't mean they don't love their pets any less."  That's what I was saying to my girls; they were agreeing.  But on the inside...

On the inside, I was full of humiliation, shame and deep deep pain.  I wanted to shout at her, "Leave my girls alone--don't you see their in faces?  Don't you see their tears, their hurt?  They had her with them--they are feeling guilty AND IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!  And while I'm at it let me just tell you that this is just one thing that has happened this week in our lives--ONE THING AMONG MANY. You don't know our story.  You have no idea this has been one of the worst weeks of our families' life.  You don't know what money we do or do not have.  You are treating us like a dollar sign and not as people who have a story--You don't know us!"

It was a God moment-they didn't ask, but made the cast monogrammed orange and blue

The vet's assistant came in next and she was AMAZING.  "We have another option.  Surgery is just the fastest fix, but we can cast her for 8 weeks and if you can keep her calm she will heal just fine." "I guess it's a good thing our other summer plans have had to be adjusted and we will be home for 8 weeks instead of at the beach." I thought to myself.  Finally a silver lining to the back story... I have no idea if she believed we could or couldn't pay, but she treated us with dignity and respect--she treated us humanely; she treated us as people with a back story...

Four days later I woke around 5 am and headed downstairs to take care of Winnie.  I heard it raining-"darn it," I thought, "Taking her out in the rain is going to be such a pain."  As I thought these words I looked out the window, it wasn't raining.  At that moment I turned the corner and it was raining--just not outside...I'd so rather have taken her out in the rain....

We spent the next four days with loud fans throughout the house.  When they came to get the fans (the living room AND basement finally dried out), they began the assessment of damage.  We would need new floors throughout the main floor, a new ceiling, new basement ceiling, new carpet in the basement..and the list continues.  "Mrs. Doyle," the estimator said, "I am so sorry this has happened to you.  I know it looks awful and it's overwhelming, but we've seen worse and we'll do everything we can to make this as easy for you all as possible.  I'm sorry you are going to have to spend your summer this way."  Dignity, respect, compassion....

I've been thinking a lot about these two experiences.  I'm still annoyed about the first.  I still like to get on my high horse about social justice--I try to pretend that's my big beef--people who have no other options.  But that's not it.  It's dignity and respect REGARDLESS.  It's recognizing that what brings people to an emergency vet on a Friday night or what brings estimators into a flooded house is traumatic in and of itself; it's responding to people's places of pain with tenderness and care.  And it's remembering that we all have back stories--stories we may or may not share, but stories that impact our lives; it's recognizing that what you're seeing is a snapshot of a life's album--an album you haven't seen.

I keep thinking about John 8 and how this woman was being publicly humiliated and how Jesus bent down.  I picture him bending down so he can look up into her eyes--meet her where she is.  He never asks her what her back story is, but he knows there is one.  She didn't wind up being brought forward and shamed without one.  Instead Jesus treated her with tenderness, dignity and with immense compassion.

We all have back stories--some we want to share--one day I may share ours--and some we don't.  But they exist; they are part of our lives.  May we remember others have them too...perhaps that young girl also has a back story...

I Am Mary Full of Shame

I've been accused of being too out there--too transparent, too unfiltered.  I suppose (I know) it's true, and I know it makes some people very uncomfortable.  I'll be honest, sometimes it makes me uncomfortable, and yet when I try to silence my voice, when I try to fit in, my stomach hurts, my mind races and I can't sleep.  So here I go again....

I preached this week; I wasn't supposed to, but late last week I was asked to fill in for a colleague.  (darn her) I opened the bible to read the gospel--"why did I agree to preach?",I thought.  (Mark 3:20-35) The gospel story was about Mary (and Jesus' siblings) trying to get to Jesus, her son, because she was afraid for him, afraid of what was happening to him, afraid of losing him--it hit too close to home.

Each week preachers come to the text and we try to be objective; we try to hear what God is saying to us through the text and what God wants us to proclaim.  We've been trained by seminaries to leave our own "stuff" out of it.  I so wish it were that easy.  Actually I've been reading David Lose's book Preaching at the Crossroads, and he says, "To put it another way, we preachers do not come to Scripture without a set of questions influenced by our own context and experience.  And we should not, as our questions are what bring us to the text in the first place." (Lose, David (2013) Preaching at the Crossroads. Minneapolis, MN, Fortress Press. p. 41) Perhaps we need to honor that--to own that--to be transparent about that.

As I read the gospel, my heart raced, my palms were sweaty.  I could feel Mary's panic, and I could feel her shame.  In the first century, family was everything--family was the social organizing unity, the family was how you were identified, how you were known--to leave family was to bring shame on the family--to be "out there," to be different was to bring shame on the family.  Life isn't really much different today.  (read at all)

I understood all too well trying to protect a child who others may not understand.  I understood all too well how it felt to not understand my own child.  I understood what it felt like to be kept from my child either physically or emotionally and the panic that takes over as you realize you are completely out of control--I understood what it felt like to be the mother of a child and to be powerless. And, I understood the shame that washes over a mother's body because a child's behavior doesn't fit the norm and the guilt that comes because of the feelings of shame.

I needed to preach the Good News; I needed to leave my "stuff" behind, and yet I couldn't.  I believe we all come to the gospel, to church, to community with our own shame, our own hidden hurts, our own secrets.  I believe there are so many people who show up each week in our church buildings putting on a good face, dressing up our outer selves while we dress down our inner selves, and I wonder why?

But I know why--it's because we're afraid; it's because we live in our own honor/shame culture; it's because we know people even and possibly mostly church leaders are judgmental.  It's because culture has taught us to admit weakness, vulnerability, brokenness is the worst thing we can do.  To admit our world is not perfect, that we are not in complete control is to admit that we are not enough. But we are enough--we are more than enough even with and possibly even more because of all the stuff we bring.

I love Karoline Lewis a professor at Luther Seminary.  I think she's amazing and most of the time I agree with everything she says; but, (you heard a but coming didn't you?) this week I vehemently disagree.  She writes, "I think this is one of the most difficult challenges of parish life for a pastor, for a preacher. You have a lot of family discord to negotiate -- your own, of course, which you can’t let anyone see or know about and which itself creates a loneliness unmatched by other professions." (Quoted here)  That is a lonely place to be, but I don't believe we have to be there--we have to navigate discretion, but not deny. It's a balancing act--a continual challenge.

This week alone I have been privileged to hear about colleagues challenges in their own personal lives--both lay and ordained--and I have heard them say (as I have) that we can't let people know, that we have to keep it secret because we know there are some (we can even name them) who will judge us, who will use our pain, our struggles against us.  I wonder, what would happen if we didn't?  What would happen if we admitted we were struggling--not necessarily spewing all our details, but what if we admitted there were things going on in our own lives that brought us challenges, that brought us to our knees, that brought us to a community where we wanted nothing more than unconditional love and acceptance?

I think what the gospel taught me this week is that I do carry shame and fear, and I am not alone. Mothers have lived with these feelings for centuries; people have lived with these truths for centuries. With all its brokenness, its humanness, I also believe the church in community (and sometimes within the actual walls) can be the place where we find unconditional love, grace, mercy, and acceptance.  I believe we can learn to leave our shame and fear at the door and enter into a community that opens wide its arms and loves us just as we are.  But I believe we all--clergy and laity--have to take that first step and shed our masks--I wonder if we can?

Disclaimer--This isn't the post I wanted to write-the one I'd constructed in my head.  That was all about Mary, but this is what came out.  

Is It Easier?

As the mother of four children in 4 1/2 years, I have spent the last

20 years fielding all kinds of questions and comments.  It started when they were very young and we went everywhere together--doctor's appointments, grocery store, pool, mall, you name it--I just loaded them up and off we went. (We were broke for crying out loud--we had four children--there was no money for babysitters and we didn't live near family.) Anyway, back to the questions... 

Some of my favorites--"Do you know how this keeps happening?"  Well, yes I do thank you very much and apparently we're just quite good at it.  (I think I've said before this blog isn't for the easily offended....) or "I don't know how you do it every day.  There's no way I could."  Well, sometimes I don't; I just wake up, put them all in their separate cages and go about my day anyway I want--(Seriously people?  You just get up and do it again and again and again..there's no choice--but if you mean that question as a compliment, please excuse my sarcastic thoughts..).  Or, "Do you like having them this close together?"  Now that's probably the most reasonable except for the fact that I know no other way....

Recently the question I've been repeatedly asked is, "Who was/is the hardest to raise?" or "Who was/is the easiest to raise?"  or even, "Are boys or girls harder?"  (That question I'm not touching with a ten foot pole--seems a bit sexist to me and I'm sure my liberal daughter would tear my head off if I tried--so maybe she isn't the easiest...)  The one that honestly makes me lol (that's me trying to be cool with the text lingo) is, "You're kids are so great.  How do you do it?"  Of course that question usually comes from someone who has never read my blog or facebook posts....

But I have been thinking about it (read obsessing about it) over these past few weeks.  Part of the thought process has been tormenting myself about my role--thinking about how what I have done that has helped my children grow up--thinking more about how what I have done has hurt my children--I even blogged about it--Whose Fault Is It? (yeah and I thought that would free my mind from being highjacked by the all consuming questions--apparently I need more therapy to know myself better).

So here's an attempt to answer the question--Is it easier to rear a child who obsesses over making straight A's and being in the position of having to beg her AP physics teacher to give her a B before she leaves for college so you can help her get through it without breathing into a paper bag?  (I admitted that to her last night...) Or is it easier to rear a child who has a learning disability but makes such good grades the school tells you they can't give him an IEP-- that is until he begins to fail? (Yeah because that makes sense--let's wait until his self esteem is in the crapper and then get him help--clearly time for a school change.) Is it easier to rear a child who has so much potential but only puts in minimal effort?

Is it easier to rear a child who all the faculty and staff adore (yes I know he's got the cutest dimples in the world I see them every day, and I know he's polite I've trained him BUT CAN HE READ?!?!?) or to rear a child who is a little less lovable by authority figures, who is strong willed but has a heart of gold once he respects you (and by the way, he also has those cute dimples although they're not as pronounced).

Is it easier to rear a child who works so hard at every sport s/he wants to play and still sometimes sits on the bench or to rear a natural athlete who doesn't know what it means to work hard?  (Until they hit high school and then...)  Is it easier to rear a popular child who gets invited to every party (and you worry about what happens at all those parties--actually you know because you are also rearing a child or children who tells you everything--or if they're not telling you everything you don't want to hear the rest...) or is it easier to rear a child who rarely gets invited to a party?  Is it easier to rear a child who follows every rule to the T never questioning or to rear a child who challenges every boundary?

Is it easier to rear a child who has no filter (one guess as to which child that is) or to rear a child who keeps everything inside?  Is it easier to rear a child who makes a joke out of everything or a child who is so sensitive they cry or explode at even the smallest imagined slight?  Is it easier to rear a child who never thinks s/he is enough and is full of self criticism or a child who has so much confidence s/he can't take any criticism?  Is it easier to rear a child who is open and honest about his/her doubts and fears or a child that hides his/her insecurities behind a "cool" facade?

I could go on and on but the bottom line is, I don't have an answer because none of it's easy--not for me--not for any parent.  And back to my previous blog--we as parents can only do so much.  That's the answer I really want to give people who ask (and particularly to young parents who make statements such as "my children will always or my children will never" seriously y'all please don't it will come back to haunt you--and those of us with older children roll our eyes and laugh behind you're back--didn't say we were nice...and besides your comments made to us are usually perceived as judgmental and unkind--not to mention delusional)--anyway, what I want to say to ALL parents is be kind to yourself, do your best, be intentional, but extend to yourself and to your children room to make mistakes surrounded by forgiveness and grace--

Before the children walk out the door to go anywhere I say, "Have fun; remember who you are; be true to yourself."  As I've thought about the questions I get asked I've thought about this family motto.  I realize that as I have said it all these years it has really been about them being true to who I want them to be--to the values and morals I want them to have--to the behaviors I want them to choose--frankly to the way to be that reflects positively on me.

What I want to ask (but perhaps I'm not ready to answer) is are you ready for your children to be true to themselves--themselves as God and not you created them to be?

Whose Fault Is It?

When SK was two years old, she was SO GOOD!  She did whatever we asked; if we told her to sit in a chair and we forgot to tell her she could get up, well, 4 hours later she'd still be sitting there.  I almost broke my arm patting myself on the back telling myself what a good parent I was.  "Terrible twos," I thought, "Well that's what parents who aren't so involved, so consistent (yes I was delusional about my consistency), who don't put the effort in--that's what happens to them."  And then she turned three...

I think terrible two's is a misnomer or at the very least an expression parents who have gone through the 3's choose to continue to use so that others also get the shock we had and/or don't run for the hills in the weeks before their children's 3rd birthdays.  Anyway...

She turned 3 and suddenly my control was well if not non-existent much less.  I've been struggling with that ever since.  Or maybe I haven't; maybe I've assumed whenever SK or one of the others made a choice I didn't want them to make, said something I didn't want them to say, maybe I convinced myself it was just a blip...

In reality, what I did, what I do is try to figure out why and usually it involves asking myself, "What did I do wrong?"  "How have I failed them?"  It usually involves replaying every mistake I know I've made over the years and wondering if that was the moment...(and I do this with even the smallest of things they do).

(As parents, I think we also do this with our children's successes--like my broken arm when SK was 2.  I think sometimes we make their honors, their awards, their achievements about us and our good parenting, our solid home--we take their hard work and make it ours.)

Lately I've been thinking about this a lot.  If I'm honest I've been thinking about it both because my children are well into the teen years (please do not remind me SK will be 20 this summer) and I've been in therapy where I have explored some of my childhood to try to understand why I think in certain ways, why my emotional default is what it is.  What I recognize is that I both want to take all the responsibility for my children's thoughts, behaviors and choices AND I want to blame my parents for any painful emotional residue I have left over from my childhood, and I recognize that putting all my eggs (or ego) into that basket denies the personhood of myself and my children.

I am not denying that the environments we grow up in deeply impact us.  They do--for example, living in an alcoholic home you learn survival strategies that stick with you--become your default (things like making sure everything is okay for everyone all the time, staying quiet so as not to draw attention to yourself (yes sometimes I can be quiet), and trying to be perfect because maybe that will fix the problem).  Growing up in environments that our too permissive can breed entitlement; growing up in environments that are too controlling can breed rebellion; growing up in overly critical environments can breed low self-esteem, growing up in loving, stable, consistent homes can breed secure children all that and more is true.  But...

The other thing I'm beginning to think might be true is it is also somewhat narcissistic to believe that any choice our children make is because of us.  It's making it about us.  It appears we are being good parents by trying to find what we did wrong so we can fix it, but it's in some ways making us martyrs and it's definitely denying their free will, their personhood, their creation as a child of God independent of us--even if they were knit together in our wombs.
         
               "For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise
                 you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know
                 that full well." (Psalm 139:13-14) (NIV)


On the other hand, I want to blame my parents--I want to find a reason why I am overly sensitive, hard on myself, always trying to please.  I want it to be someone else's fault because if it is totally someone else's fault that lets me off the hook; it gives me a "get out of jail free card"--and it might even keep me from doing the hard work I need to do to be healthy and whole--to live fully into the person God created me to be.

It's about control or giving up control.  If I believe that my children make choices because of something I've done or said, then all I have to do is find that thing and I can make it better (or at least my definition of better) or I can teach other parents how to have the 'perfect' kids I have.  I can make certain they never make that choice again, or I can make certain they keep making the choices I deem best for them.  I can be back in control--I can put them back in their snug beds, tuck them in like tacos, and bring them hot chocolate in the mornings, and everything will be FINE.

Further, I not only find I do this with my own children, but I do it with others' children.  When a child misbehaves, even a child as young as a toddler, it is so easy to say, "If only their parents would..." It is easy to say, "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."  Again, it is easy to deny the free will, the personhood of every child of God some whom sometimes (or all the time) make choices we don't like.

This isn't easy; it's not easy combining psychology and faith; yet, I believe that is what an integrated faith looks like--it's using our minds, our experience, and scripture.  But it is hard.  On the one hand, people use verses such as Exodus 20:5b-6 which says, "punishing the children for the sin of the parents to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me, but showing love to a thousand generations of those who love me and keep my commandments." to blame parents--to say it's something you did.  But then you read Deuteronomy 24:16, "Parents are not to be put to death for their children, nor children put to death for their parents; each will die for their own sin."  

Which is it?  It's hard to know.  I cling to Proverbs 22:6 "Train up a child in the way he should go, Even in old age he will not depart from it."  I also believe I don't know exactly what that way is except to do my best, to love God and to love my family, to be intentional and to be ready to extend forgiveness and grace to myself and to my children.

I believe God is not a puppet master; God does not pull strings and we behave in certain ways, so why in the world would I give myself that power over my children?  I am not God.  (I keep reminding myself, but sometimes I still forget.) I also believe God doesn't just throw us into this world and abandon us; God is with us through the good choices we make and through the bad. God is with us extending forgiveness and grace--holding us accountable but always loving us--each of us no exceptions.

If I'm honest, I don't have this all figured out (read figured out at all), but I'm trying.  I believe there are many people in this world trying.  Perhaps if we could extend grace to one another, perhaps if we could be less judgmental of others children, others parenting styles, others beliefs, others intentions, others personhood, perhaps then we could extend that grace to our children and to ourselves.  Perhaps we could stop trying to figure out whose fault it is and just love one another through.  Perhaps.

Hiding Behind Texts

I've heard more than once, "Teens aren't going to be able to communicate face to face with anyone. They hide behind social media--texts, snap chat, etc."  Perhaps that's true, but over the past six days I too have hidden behind texts, and I have to admit there's something to it....

One criticism of constant texting is that people can't see the other people's faces; this can cause us to miss social cues that are important in relationship building.  Yep, that's true, but by texting, you can also hide the tears streaming down your face that you don't want others to see.  You can also hide your shaking hands and trembling voice--perhaps the fact that you can hide these things means you're more willing to reach out to others during times of need.

Another criticism of texts is that people may say something they wouldn't say to someone's face. That's true too, but most of the time the criticism is that people say cruel things they wouldn't say in person.  I'm not doubting that; I've actually seen it.  But, I've also seen (and yes if you're wondering if I sometimes read my teens' texts, the answer is yes--and they know it) sometimes they express their deepest feelings, their hopes, their dreams, their pain and their fear.  Sometimes you're able to admit something about yourself or something you're feeling or something you're afraid of or something with which you're struggling because it's "safe."

A final criticism (or at least a final one I'm going to address) is that people have their face in their phones all the time--texting non-stop--24/7.  I fully admit I throw tantrums about that all the time (and my teens can see my face, hear my voice and yet....), but the other side of the coin is that you can answer when you want, you can reach out for support even during a conference or a car trip (not if you're the driver) or sitting in an airport when you don't want the other passengers to hear.  You can decide how you want to say it; how much you want to say...

And others they can reach out to you too--you can wake up in the morning with texts of support to start your day, and sometimes that is the reason you get out of bed.

Texts aren't the answer for the fullness of relationship, but perhaps they do play a part.