Preach Purity Prematurely

from the mouth of pretty-recently-a-teen

"What's sex?"
I was eight years old. My mom and I were in the car pulling into the Rack n' Sack parking lot, which was this dingy grocery store that saved money by not stacking items on the shelves so it was like walking into the back of a normal grocery store. I remember that she stiffened and took a deep breath.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to!" I quickly amended. I knew whatever my classmates were talking about in school was meant to be whispered away from teachers.
But with resolve she said, "No. If you're old enough to ask, you're old enough to know."
(I didn't see until typing this right now how far opposite this is with what I'm preparing to say. Considering my mother's circumstance, she raised me better than I think anyone would have anticipated. I mean, I'm the rebel child and I'm going to be a missionary so.... She also raised me to be a discerning person with my own opinions so hopefully she won't feel too hurt that I disagree. But we'll get to that).
And after bracing herself. She told me. About how reproduction works.
Kids remember stuff. And things they hear when they are small, they carry with them and often come to strongly believe or not question ever. Conversations with my father, quoting his past teachings, has proven how very careful you should be when speaking as children often take words at face value. So this incomplete idea of sex later did me a great disservice.
When my mother later told me that Jesus didn't want me to have sex until I was married, the definition I had heard years earlier was the definition I applied. The word was not further discussed.
It's an awkward subject. I know it is. My husband cringes of the idea of having the talk with children that haven't even been conceived yet. So that she didn't want to get into is understandable. And I as a teenager didn't want to hear it. But it really really really needs to be done.
Now, all of my sins and shortcomings are 100% my fault. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that my mother did NOT want me doing the things I had been doing. But I honestly thought, at least at first, that Jesus didn't have a problem with it. Because it wasn't sex.
But we know, (now) we all know, (hopefully) that it's about more than sex. It's about purity.

Parents, teenagers do this crazy thing. They stop listening to you and they start listening to their friends. This isn't something that should wait until they hear it at school and start asking questions or turn to friends who are like, kids, what do they know? You are their parent. You have been there and done that. And you know way more than their friends think they know. You need to share that wisdom before they stop listening. Puberty is too late to start talking to them about purity. More than purity, teach them modesty and teach them how they should be treated by men. Because unless you have raised AMAZING children (and if so please message me and tell me how be just like you), your words will fall on deaf ears.

My mom taught me about modesty at a young age. And that's a lesson that stuck. In grocery stores, I would look at a magazine and say how pretty a woman was. "Yes, she's pretty. But not a nice pretty." My mother said referring to her skimpy attire. "Look at this girl. She's pretty too, isn't she?" "Yes!" "And she how she's pretty without showing all her body? That's a nice pretty." Today I walked outside with a spaghetti strap shirt. I was in a rush and thought I was wearing a sleeveless shrug over it. I remember thinking "!!!! My mother raised me better than this!!!" (Not to say that spaghetti straps are skanky. But I'm already breaking mommy's rules wearing tank tops, much to her dismay...) But as high as her standards are, my sleeves will never (except for today) be thinner than an inch, my shorts will never be but an inch shorter than mid-thigh (I buy size 13 and they sit on my hips), and my skirts will never be as short as mid-thigh. (Again my mother is aghast and even at 21 I have bought clothes in defiance. It's the rebel in me! "A skirt three inched above the knee! Take that, Mom!") (Can we applaud my mother's parenting here?  I mean, well done.)

A lesson I missed out on was how women should be treated. This needs to be modeled. A LOT. And if you have a broken home, that is not going to happen. Even with my father remarried, I didn't get to see this A LOT. I can imagine that being divorced is... I can't imagine. I can't imagine even being a child of divorce. But your kid needs to see a healthy marriage modeled if they hope to have one! And, oh my gosh, start before it's too late! Before they start dating and start unhealthy relationships. Find a healthy married couple and beg them, pay them! to incorporate your kid into their lives. For sleepovers and family outings and more. So they can see A LOT of modeling. So that they know if a guy interrupts you to ask why they should care about your story, that guy is a jerk. So that they know if a guy pressures them and makes them uncomfortable, that guy is a jerk. So that they know if they aren't radiating the joy they see in the model wife's face, the guy they're dating is a jerk. When the media tells them that true love overcomes obstacles, have a real couple show them how and show them what obstacles aren't worth sticking with a guy (who they're not married to) "true love" or otherwise. But you have to show them when they're young enough to listen. Because when they, when I was in a relationship with a deadbeat dude, I was far too "in love" to hear a word against it. I dated guys who told me they didn't care about what I was saying. I dated guys who wouldn't commit so they could sleep around (I wouldn't have sex). I dated drunkards and potheads and wanna-be gangstas. My skirts weren't too short but my standards were.

And from a young age, when they're still memorizing and internalizing every word that drops off your tongue, teach them about purity. Not about dirtiness. Don't make them feel dirty if they mess up. If Jesus can wash our sins white as snow, I believe He can handle our bodies. But teach them about baggage. Guide them to fall in love with their husband before they know him. And teach them about baggage and what that can do. Baggage has you laying in bed with your husband while your traitorous heart and mind is reminded of someone else. Baggage has you not telling your husband about stories from your past because he doesn't want to hear about someone else touching your heart or anything else, anything else that is supposed to be his and his alone. Baggage is despicable and old and gross and full of regret and never seems to go away. So, please, please, teach your child when they're young enough to listen. Before they go finding baggage and putting their name on it.

This has been on my heart, I guess. I miss working with teenage girls. And I remember all too well their struggles in dating. But it was too late. They were already brainwashed, like I was, in a society driven by finding value in your relationships with men. You didn't not date. Only losers didn't date. Which of course made those who struggled to find a man all that more willing to stay in a crappy relationship so they wouldn't be alone again. Please, please, teaches these girls, whom I love so much, without even knowing them all my heart breaks for them and the pain I know they'll have, teach them while they'll still listen.