Chicago mom shields kids from Bruno Mars’ Super Bowl performance

When I heard the lyrics spill out over the catchy notes of music through the television that we rarely watch, I caught my husband’s eye and motioned him to find the mute button.

With two sets of small ears in the same room as the Super Bowl halftime show, my ears were extra sensitive to what was coming out of the speakers. I mother two music-loving souls who memorize lyrics after one listen, and I really didn’t want my 6-year-old returning to school singing “your sex takes me to paradise.”

But that’s not the only reason I motioned for muting. It’s not just that I don’t want my boys to parrot back lyrics I think are inappropriate for their small mouths to be singing.

It’s also that I want them to celebrate the sacred in a way that speaks beauty and life.

I voiced a bit of surprise via Facebook after hearing the Bruno Mars lyrics, and no one jumped down my throat for doing so; I have kind friends who tend to be gentle with my heart because they know I wear it on my sleeve.

But there were comments questioning what I found so racy. After all, there was no wardrobe malfunction or hyper-sexualized woman dancing around on stage. I suppose I should count my blessings or just turn off the TV altogether, which is normally how we do life anyway.

Because I know.

I know I seem crazy. I know I seem out of touch. I know I seem old fashioned.

I’m not any of those things really, and those who know me even moderately well can attest.

It’s just that I think intimacy is a beautiful gift from a God who knows how to give really good gifts, a sacred coming together that symbolizes the unity of two flesh-and-blood bodies with hearts intertwined.

I just have this crazy notion that intimacy should be remain that — lovely and intimate, together and intertwined, not over-emphasized and entertaining.

It’s just that I think the beautiful should be celebrated in meaningful ways instead of a parade on stage or through unrealistic song lyrics that don’t even skim the surface of the depths to which they vaguely allude.

Some will call me stuffy. Some will call me unreasonable. And I’m sure there’s more.

But really?

I’m just a dreamer who longs for my sons’ hearts to know the real beauty of intimacy. I’m just a woman who knows how damaging an unrealistic view of intimacy can be on the heart and in relationships. I’m just a soul who knows both sides of the coin and who longs for the one that brings about life and fullness to be the predominate availing thought.

So while their ears are small and their minds are still on child’s play, I’ll keep shielding them from the casual references of sex so as to not dull their senses to the beauty.

I’ll keep muting the lyrics I find so inadequate.

And I’ll keep dreaming until they’re mature enough and until their minds and hearts are ready to grasp the depth of the beauty for which they were created enjoy, that the intimate and lovely should be celebrated with gratitude and in fullness instead of paraded around carelessly through song and dance.

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