When Scott and I first married, our dog of choice was the pitbull. Our first pitbull, Evie, amazed us. She proved fierce and loving. I adored her and am convinced she would have died for me. After Evie came Scout, a pitbull I couldn’t trust. That two-faced dog in the house with our children rattled my nerves. Just like Facebook in our home now.

In ’08, I signed up for Facebook because my literary agent highly recommended it. Scott and the girls had already “drank the Kool Aid” as my cousin so quaintly put it about joining Facebook. Remember the cult leader who fed his followers poisoned Kool Aid back in 1978? Nearly a thousand people died in a mass suicide. Whole families perished. Even babies were forced to drink the cyanide-laced stuff.

Just for the record, I don’t see Facebook as cyanide. It’s a wonderful way to keep in touch with long-distance family and friends. No more bulging letters filled with photos of the kids for the grandparents in Texas and Florida. No more wondering what happened to those old Army friends. Keeping up with writing associates is easy on Facebook. But here’s where things have grown mountainous. Our 13 year old son just joined Facebook and I’ve become a game warden.

I never heard of a girl referred to as a cougar until last month. Now I find myself ready to trap and relocate several fifteen-year-old felines on Facebook. I’m the mother stalking the cougars stalking my son. Pass the Kool Aid because I don’t have the time and energy for this. I certainly didn’t sign on for this Facebook foolishness.

Keeping things in perspective, we haven’t owned a pitbull since Scout. Now our dependable yellow lab lets our babies hang from her ears. I want our home to be a safe place for my kiddos. I realize that when they walk out the door, the world awaits, but in their bedrooms, they don’t need seductive animals prowling through their iPhones. By the way, the iPhone wasn’t my idea. A grandparent did that, and our son works the fields for it. Fifteen hours a month laboring in the orchard for Opa to pay for that Internet island pass.

My issue is that some girls dress scantily on Internet island. Some go nude. Using song lyrics, they invite my son into sexual sin. Does a 13 year-old-boy really need exposure to these kind of coconuts? Believe me, I don’t think my sweet son is completely innocent of the Facebook antics. It takes two to mambo… enough said… Momma bear has been poked.

This morning My Utmost for His Highest devotion read: “And if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell” Matthew 5:30. I know My Utmost for His Highest comes across old-fashionedly, but believe me, God’s advice never goes out of style.

And I realize Facebook isn’t a right hand, but if it offends, shouldn’t the Bible’s advice be taken?

The bottom line is this: Scott is the head of our household, so he will make the decision whether or not our family stays on Facebook. My job is to pray for my husband and children. To softly speak words of wisdom, whispering… don’t drink the cougar Kool Aid! 
  
P.S. This morning when I went to Facebook to check our son’s page, he wasn’t there. Last night he gave up Facebook on his own. I’m so proud of our boy and grateful to our Lord for His constant care 🙂