These Two

Daddy Daughter Dance 2015

I think they like each other.

Her sweet Daddy melts me. 

Be still my heart.

A Sunset Perspective

I am writing this on the flight returning from a full & wonderful Spring Break trip to Hawaii. We had an action packed week of adventure featuring whale watching, swimming with 20 foot manta rays in the ocean at night, flying in a helicopter over waterfalls and an active volcano. Truly amazing glimpses of creation and life to the full.

And as I flip back through the snapshots in my brain and the photo images on my camera, my favorite part was a spontaneous stop at a random public beach late Wednesday afternoon. It had been a long day. Frankly, my husband pushed for one last stop when I wanted to go back and veg by the pool.

 Always up for an adventure, he led us down to the most gorgeous spot where the kids were able to splash and play for about an hour as the sun set.

 Even as I watched them I knew this would be my favorite part of the week. Sunkissed skin, playful spirits, exuberant laughter, warm breeze, glistening water...

 Not a care in the world but to be fully present in this moment.

 I studied their changing/maturing faces through my lens.

Little people--on an intermission from the growing up they are doing before my very eyes.

 

"This is my favorite," I said aloud to my husband.

"You are always a fan of the sunset moments," he reminded me.

"Hmm, you're right. Why do you think that is?" I asked.

"Maybe because of the reflection of the day?" he offered.

 

I've thought a lot about that since our conversation. I am truly a sucker for sunset moments with the people I love--but why?  Sunset is a time of perspective and reflection--two things I love--but I think there is more to it.

 

I've done just enough dabbling in photography to know it is all about light. Dawn, dusk and overcast days are the best times to capture beautiful photos. I think this is true of the perspective of my heart as well.

 

The reason I love sunset moments is because the harsh, intense, rush of the day is over and a warm glow settles in that puts everything in a softer, more forgiving light. The pressure to perform wears away--what's done is done-- it is time to reign things in and put the day to bed.

 

And I wonder why I can't seek a little more sunset in each day? When I am in a hurry and just trying to mark things off my list, I am convicted that I cast more of a harsh noonday glare and miss the glow of a sunset perspective.

 

Of course, real life means I can't always control the light of a given situation--but my presence, my attitude can certainly influence it. He is the 'light of the world' and I am called to reflect His warm glow.  

Because Life is an Adventure Race

 

Today my girl & my man participated in their first adventure race together--and 8 hours later I think my heart may finally have recovered enough for me to write about it.

When they set out with their map and boundless enthusiasm it was sprinkling a little rain. An hour later when they completed the biking portion the sprinkles had become a steady drizzle.

By the time they transitioned to the running/exploring portion it was absolutely pouring--but they still wore big smiles on their drenched faces.

I realized that these two are FAR more adventurous than the boys and me. R passed the time by playing in the rain with a friend. P scrounged through the car for Legos hidden under seats.

 

And as they approached the 90 minute mark and headed to the river for a two mile paddle, I decided they might be borderline crazy.

The race organizers stopped allowing participants in the river due to the deteriorating conditions--about 3 minutes after I took this photo of my two rounding a bend.

 

To say that my hour long wait for their return was a bit stressful is an understatement. When the emergency rescue boat stationed near the launch pulled out of the water because his boat was filling up with rain water, I felt panic start to creep in. I may or may not have sent out a text that resulted in a friend driving over to the race site to check on them/me.

 

Two of my most precious treasures were out in nasty conditions and I was helpless. They were out of sight, and even worse, they had no phone or radio with them since they had to traverse a swamp. I had no choice but to stand watch, wait and pray (in the pouring rain with a chatty son who was blissfully ignorant to my cause for concern.) 

 

I didn't like it one bit.

 

I prefer the illusion of control I have most days thanks to the 'safe' little life we have built in small town Georgia.

 

When I finally got the text that they were safely out of the water, I felt a flood of relief mixed with frustration and anger. I confess that as I rushed to greet them at the finish line I struggled to congratulate them because I wanted to lecture them on how frightened I had been.

 

These two had just worked hard for over three hours...conquering challenges together, making memories, enjoying the journey. They were exhilarated and exhausted--but fear wanted to make the moment all about me.

 

Instead of celebrating what WAS I was battling a flood of what IFS. Thankfully, the Lord made it so clear to me in the moment so the thoughts could be held (mostly) captive and not spoil their moment.

 

And I groaned inside as I realized that this is going to repeat itself in my life as my children grow and take more risks.

 

Lord, help me trust You more with these people. Guard my thoughts and shut my mouth. Keep me ever mindful that you are the great I AM -- concerned with what IS and not what could have been. Help me abide in the present with YOU, not in a fictional future with my fears.

This morning was simply a microcosm of all the 'family adventure' this race of life is sure to hold before we cross the finish line.

On the Ropes

If ever there were a metaphor for parenting, our experience Tuesday on the ropes course fits the bill. Three little adventurers, traversing obstacles before my very eyes--while I was only able to watch, pray and shout encouragement.

 

The ropes are not my favorite thing. I will do them, but since my husband relishes the opportunity for adventure with our kids, I chose to stay on the ground and watch/photograph/encourage.

There were so many lessons as I watched each of them handle various challenges with different responses. My K found a group of high school/college girls and seemed emboldened by being with them.

At each intersection she asked the ropes worker which path was more difficult--then she took it!

When she came to the zip line at the conclusion, she purposefully attempted to go upside down--just for the thrill.

  The boys were in the group after her. They moved through with far more bravery that I have--and each encountered a little trouble once along the way. Although they took the same path, their struggles were in completely different areas--and their responses were wildly different as well.

 

When R was fearful he lashed out in anger. Even as my husband was making his way over to help get him back on track, R was yelling angrily (and irrationally) at him. It was his choice to take on the course--yet when he ran into trouble, his default was to blame the very one who loves him most and was in a position to rescue him. It's a tale as old as time about our response to those we love--and the One who loves us. Why do we do this?

Once he was back on track he reasserted his independence and even jumped off the zipline with courage and boldness.

 

P handled his adventure yet another way. When he got stuck it was because his foot slipped. Once seated on the wire, he realized he was simply too tired to pull himself back up. Frustrated, exhausted tears ensued that attracted quite a crowd at camp. (Things tend to echo here in the mountain valley.)

 

As my husband made his way to him to provide a little lift two dozen high school kids started chanting P's name. Although it warmed this mama's heart, it did little to help P. Despite their chants, he was still stuck and in need of a rescuer with strength beyond his own.

 

When they reached the final leg, P chose to stick close to his Dad. With renewed courage he jumped and shouted with joy at having completed this trial.

It was awesome to watch Young Life leader's take this same approach with their frightened high school friends. As they offered companionship, encouragement and help I appreciated the role they play even in the every day life of these teenagers.

 

 

As my little group reached the end they exchanged high fives and excitedly swapped stories of their adventure--reveling in their accomplishment despite overcoming obstacles. Life, like this course, is fraught with obstacles, challenges and moments of exhilaration that we face and respond to differently. May we finish well with stories to tell of our journey!

Peace with My Position

In the last few months I've had the opportunity to meet with a handful of young women in my life who are on the edge of their next big chapters. As they approach graduation, school transfer or beginning their work careers, we've lingered over coffee and talked about what's next. As I look into their eyes I see it...the sparkle of simultaneous exhilaration, fear and cluelessness. (I honestly say that with great love.)

There is no longer a guidance counselor or custodial parent outlining their next steps. On the edge of the proverbial nest, they are taking big leaps with wings that have been strengthened for two decades in preparation. They aren't yet sure about the flight...how long, how far, how high, at what speed...and they are learning that so much of this season is about praying, then taking off--trusting the wind of the Spirit to carry them as they flap and soar.

It has been a sweet, healing experience for me to sit and talk with these women. I've experienced several different legs of my flight so far and still find myself in those places--wondering if I am really honoring God. Have I grown too complacent and lazy on this particular ledge? Or have I taken on too much? Are my wings flapping much harder than intended because of my pride and need to prove my worth?

And I hear the whisper in my heart: Slow down, child. One step at a time.

Once upon a time I was an independent young woman with no idea what the Lord had for me in terms of the future. I vividly remember driving away from Tuscaloosa, AL in my dented, light blue Honda Accord with a degree, a job offer and only enough belongings to fit inside that sedan. I did well professionally, free from any definitive career aspirations, striving to do my best and honor God--trusting Him with the details of where it would all lead.

I was not actively seeking my "Mrs. degree" but really hoped God would see fit to bring me a mate and little ones. I was not in any real hurry and kept busy with what He put before me 'in the meantime.' There were amazing experiences in that season.

In my late 20s, God did bring an incredible man into my life. It took a few years, a couple of moves and major heartache before we married in February of 2002. The desire of my heart came at a cost. As a result of that union, my career took a major detour/derailment. I left a job I loved, a team of incredible co-workers, a nice salary and fulfilling ministry to move to a new place several states away for one brief year. In Virginia, I worked a mindless job that felt more about covering our utilities than any sort of call.  In what can best be described as a 'placeholder year,' my ministry work went from relational to hourly shifts and we counted the months until we would begin our job hunt for the place where we would build our nest and plant our family. I wonder what blessings I missed by looking constantly towards the next thing.

I was not bitter about what I 'gave up' to get married. I felt peace that he was the One and this was the path God had marked out. I didn't always love it, but it was a tradeoff. Trading my maiden name and the identity that came with it to become better known as "Dr. Scott's wife" did inspire a few pride-fueled pity parties every now and again. Honestly, it only got worse when I earned my new name: "The One Who Has the Triplets."

I wish I could say this whole issue was worked out once and for all long ago, but it wasn't. It has taken different turns and led me to lots of soul searching in the process. Although none were overt, I can look back and see how I pursued different identities through the last nine years: Super Mom, Volunteer of the Year, Wonder Wife, Social Butterfly... They have all required compromise, yet not one has been my ultimate fulfillment.

As a woman who still stays at home although my children attend school, I've felt additional pressure to justify 'what I do all day.' In the midst of a tough season of wrestling with it all this Spring I heard myself say out loud to my husband: It's not that I am discontent, I just want a good answer for 'what I do.' Yikes! Talk about a petty motivation.

I've pondered several noble pursuits: a masters in counseling, fostering, writing more, leading a major fundraising effort for a terrific cause... but at the end of each exploration I have realized that I am not feeling 'called' to those things as much as I am feeling insecure about my position in life and in search of a noble sounding answer to other people's questions.

And somewhere in the last couple of months a refrain has taken residence in my heart and soul: This is your call, Jen. In this season, THIS is it. Be here.

I have a very busy husband to whom I pledged to be a helpmate. Everyone has a different deal, but in our marriage it means the house, the finances, the food, the errands, the trash cans, the car maintenance and pets--it's all on me to manage.

There is no way for me to adequately convey the stress my husband is under in his job 14+ hours a day. He never gets to turn it off. It is not workaholism--it is real life in his profession. Several times a week, he is the one who tells patients their biopsy results. He's the face they will always remember uttering the words: "It is cancer." When on call (every 4-5 nights) he's the one tasked to speak to worried family members. He spends hours in the ICU with very sick patients counseling through end of life issues. Between clinic and OR time, he sees over 100 patients in a given week. All must be dictated. Even when he is home, phone calls are steady, research must be read, charts signed. Often when he is staring off into space, I know he is thinking through the course of action for a particularly sick patient.

The reality is that my greatest sphere of influence is loving and supporting my husband through work here at home so he is free to minister in this extraordinary call. It is behind the scenes work, full of much 'mundane' for those few moments each day that matter. They come when least expected, so I must be available. I'm 'on call' too.

The reality has also set in that I have a decade remaining before my children will (hopefully) launch.

Ten years. That's really no time at all. Before we can blink, they will we taking their lights out into the world...right now it is our role as parents to teach them how to shine.

I am writing this as an expression of my heart--not as any judgment of what God has called anyone else to do. This type of comparison is unhealthy and unhelpful. But I rejoice in the peace that God has answered me in my personal wrestling for the call he has for me: This is your gig, Jen.
All those other seasons and experiences weren't 'given up' for this, they were preparation.
Live and love and serve here until I prompt your heart for something else.

Nevertheless, each person should live as a believer in whatever situation the Lord has assigned to them, just as God has called them.
I Corinthians 7:17 NIV

As I was wrapping up this post, I glanced up at a card my friend, Cabell, made me some time ago and it made me smile.

(reference 2 Corinthians 4:7 The Message)

Beautiful indeed.

Doing Hard Things

We canoed/kayaked for a couple of hours on Saturday morning. It was quite the undertaking getting gear and kiddos situated, but the peacefulness of the river, when my offspring were not bickering, was awesome. But lest the photos paint a fictional tale, I must confess what you cannot see: whining, immature bladders and frequently hungry tummies. Real life.

I teased (sort of) that I summoned a weekend's worth of patience by noon Saturday--and found myself SO grateful for my husband who balances me out by having patience in spades.

Because the river is very calm with no rapids, we allowed the children some freedom/experience about an hour into our adventure. All four got into a kayak together while we paddled beside/behind them in a canoe. It went well at first, then they started floating sideways downstream towards a fallen tree. My husband & I were about 20 feet behind them when we realized they were heading for a snag.

My immediate reaction was to start paddling hard to try to get between them and the obstacle. My husband opted for coaching them through it. The kids got clobbered by lots of green leaves, but the current was so slow no one was tipped from the kayak--there were not even any scratches once we picked the cobwebs off of their arms and removed the broken tree limbs from the boat.

As my husband coached the foursome through the importance of teamwork--and not freaking out--I was pondering how to tie their boat to ours for the rest of the trip. While we did put an adult back in to insure our take out point wasn't missed, my husband talked me through why 'bail outs' aren't the best long term strategy.

In the 36 hours since, the little adventurers have relished telling the story of their challenge--and the overcoming.

Today as the foursome completed a triathlon, I found myself in a similar quandary. One of my people experienced some anxiety while waiting for the race to begin. I could read their face. I saw the chest being clutched, the ears being plugged and overheard a comment about feeling sick. Even though I KNOW BETTER, the 'mama' in me wanted to pull the anxious one out of the line with hugs and assurances that they didn't have to do it.

As my husband reassured me that it really would be fine, my anxious one jumped in the pool--and ran their best race ever. After the race, with no prompting at all this medal wearing little person grinned and said, "I am so proud because I ran even when I didn't feel like it."

I have talked the talk about teaching independence and tenacity for years--but when the rubber meets the road, I am too often tempted to take the easier way out. To let them quit. To remove the obstacle. To body block the potential disappointment. To remove the thing siblings are fighting over instead of requiring them to work it out. To take away the abused privilege without any discussion about how to handle it more responsibly.

In the short term it makes me feel like a loving, efficient or sane parent (depending on the situation) but this weekend I was reminded to slow down and take a deep breath more often. It is time to be really intentional about coaching my 9 year olds through hard things even though it takes longer and requires more mental/physical/spiritual energy than a knee jerk solution.

There is a temptation to think of motherhood like martyrdom. While true love is incredibly selfless, I pray I can remember that sometimes love looks like not being the hero or the savior. There is a temptation to think of 'love' as always being about making a way...but sometimes love is about getting out of the way. Easy & comfortable is not the goal. Moral, spiritual and physical muscle is built the same way...from work and resistance.

Lord, I pray that You will help me know when to intervene and when to lovingly coach from the sidelines. Keep my eyes focused on You, my ears attune to Your voice and my hands from meddling where You are at work!

Lexington

I did not intend to be gone away from the blog for so long, but my husband and I took a bit of a journey back in time this weekend, travelling to celebrate his 20th college reunion from Washington & Lee University. Our accommodations were at a quaint bed & breakfast / Virginia farmhouse that did not have WiFi.  It was a treat to sleep late with open farmhouse windows--and embrace low tech living as a true throw back to 1993.  

 

I didn't meet my husband until 1998, so much of his W & L experience is known only to me in stories. It was a neat experience to see where he lived, meet many of his old friends & even go to a party at his old fraternity house.

And while I confess that my inner introvert was exhausted by the countless parties that demanded far more small talk than I typically enjoy, it was an important opportunity to get a clearer picture of who my husband is--and how God used the four years he spent in Lexington to mold and shape him into the man he is today.

I enjoyed learning about the influences of George Washington & Robert E. Lee and how many of the traditions they started continue to be observed today.

 

And while we were away our children were home making memories of their own with my parents and our beloved sitter. The children were bubbling over with stories to tell upon our return. It absolutely seemed as if they each grew an inch or more over the weekend.

 

I am not sure if it was because I was on a college campus for three days, or the fact that we are now within 3 weeks of their next birthday--but the clock seems to be ticking at an increasingly rapid pace.

Ten years more.

One decade.

God willing, it is all we have left before these little birdies are launched into the world.

It's nothing really.

I want to savor it and steward it.

And yet I don't want to be a clock watcher.

I want to live each moment without being so consumed in counting down that I miss it.

 

So tonight I climbed in beds and cuddled a little longer.

I sought to really listen to their stories and to speak words of blessing over each child.

 

Praising R's hard work on a Lego project and sincerely noting his maturity at dinner and the positive reports about his behavior in our absence.

Slowing down long enough to really read K's poetry, to brush her hair before bed and to look at her closely while tucking her in. (Which, honestly, she giggled was "a little awkward.")

Talking with (not just to) P about his recent complaints that he's tired of being told what to do and enjoying his realization that "Being a kid is actually pretty great. I don't have to worry about anything."

I walked back downstairs wondering again why it takes stepping away for me to grasp such simple truths.

God is writing a story in their lives...only He knows where it will take each of them. But this next decade is a chapter in which I am blessed to be a central character. As much as I would like to flip ahead to check on the outcome, I am called to be fully here, trusting Him for my direction. And for my impatient spirit that is HARD.

So I exhale. I whisper my thanks. I seek His wisdom and I pursue those little hearts while they are still entrusted to my care.

I Had No Idea

Eleven years ago I stood at an altar and made holy vows to the man I love. Having attended numerous weddings since that day, I now realize I had no idea what we were really promising.

Back then, love came as a gushing feeling that kept me up grinning at night. Now it is a warm place inside that wraps me up and allows me to rest peacefully. But above all else it was a promise, come what may. Some days I fail to show a glimmer of that all conquering love I once pledged. It is then that I am thankful my husband meant his promise too. Grateful for grace and new beginnings, we recommit and start again.

Eleven years ago, "for better or for worse" was all set in a future that was only in our imaginations. We were not particularly young (27 & 31), but were in a transitional place of life, still in Atlanta for residency with plans to move to Virginia for a fellowship. We had no idea where we'd eventually land. Our plans included 2-3 children each 2 1/2 years apart--like clockwork. You get to plan things like fertility, right?

Surely the work hours would be shorter once in 'real' practice. Apparently, you also have control over things like when people get sick (only 9a-5p Monday-Friday) in your imagination.

There were many themes that never occurred to us that have been part of the journey since. Infertility. Life threatening illness. Triplets. Complex decisions. Losing friends to cancer. People divorcing only a decade after we'd stood with them as they made their own vows.
And it's only been 11 years.

But you know what else we didn't comprehend?
That bonds really can grow deeper with age.
That the butterfly in the stomach feeling isn't the height of love, it is merely the initial launch.
That long term commitment meant a million tiny decisions to believe the best of one another and to always be part of the same team.
That the only kind of fighting that works is when you are fighting for each other, not against.
That saying yes that afternoon was just the first of a lifetime of choosing each other.

Last night he solidified why I would choose him all over again. It was the Daddy Daughter Dance--an event that has become very important to our sweet K. Usually quite the tomboy, she takes great joy in selecting a dress and thinking about her hair. And this year, her Daddy was on call.

With only 10 minutes to spare, he dashed in the house at 6:20, phone still firmly attached to his ear handling consults. With me impatiently nipping at his heels (prompting an apology later), he changed quickly from scrubs to suit and shaved again. As K beamed, they set off for their night together.

An hour later he texted me. There was a patient on their way in to the ER with a gunshot wound. K had been handed off to an understanding partner of his who also had little girls at the dance. I sighed, but understood and knew our girl, who is already well versed in this lifestyle, likely did too.

Thirty minutes later, another text. On the way in to the hospital he made a decision. With a phone call to his senior partner, whose 'little girls' are now in their 20s, the patient was in excellent hands. He was on his way back to the dance. Another Daddy texted me this picture.

That's definitely the man I married 11 years ago. Choosing love. Choosing tenderness. Even when it's not convenient. This is what love does.

Dating Him

My husband has a class at Cornell this weekend, so we decided to tack 2 1/2 days of couple time on the front of the trip. With a small dose of guilt I left my primary daily role of homemaker to spend some time focusing only on my role as spouse.

After typing up the lists for family members who will be shuttling, feeding, supervising and holding down the fort in our absence, we headed for the airport. My husband spent his time dictating cases, fielding calls and 'tidying up' his practice. I had a few moments reflecting on the time, expense and preparation required to get away and wondering if it was worth it. 

When we arrived at the airport and were standing in line I looked up at my husband and smiled. It was the first time all day amidst our rushing and preparing that we had stopped to just look each other in the eyes. He smiled back and asked,  
"Did you get a facial or something? Your face looks different." 
I laughed (and reminded myself it was intended as a compliment.)
"Nope."
"It must just be your vacation face," he grinned.
It struck me how very often it is the case with those we love, than we do life without pausing to really see each other.

Then scrolling through twitter, as if on cue, I stumbled upon this quote: 
"Simply living life changes us; we’ve got to keep pursuing our spouses or risk becoming a stranger to the person we married." Gary Thomas 

In the early days of our marriage, a fellow newlywed friend had a cute comeback she used whenever her husband rolled his eyes at one of her antics. 
"Well, I am just being the woman you married."

I attempted to use that little zinger once--after making a significant financial decision without consulting my husband. I still cringe when I reflect on the immaturity I displayed. We were young marrieds--just learning the rhythm of matrimony. Suffice it to say, my husband didn't think my comeback was very cute. 

I will never forget his reply: "See, that's just it. You can't just be the woman I married. We are still growing and learning. Getting married doesn't mean you stop. You just do it together."

Eleven years later I agree completely. I am not the woman he married--and he is not the man I married. Time, perspective, life events have changed us. That can be feared or it can be embraced, but it cannot be denied. And so, to Gary Thomas' point, we must remain in pursuit of one another's hearts. 

Whether it is tacking a day or two on a business trip, sending the children for an overnight with the grandparents or a weekend marriage retreat... we must remember the vows we made to love, honor and cherish. Those are not one time words, they are active. Life is a dynamic process. If we aren't growing we are dying, so we face a choice: We can grow together or we can grow apart.

Taking a step away from the hamster wheel to be intentional about 'dating' each other isn't always convenient...but it is beneficial. Yesterday we had absolutely no plans until 8pm when we met old friends for dinner. We spent the day carefree, exploring the city. It was a day that might has well have been a week.

We held hands. We had adventure. It was just the two of us against the city. We laughed. We reconnected. We took a break from the rat race that threatens to engulf us and amidst this city that never sleeps--we rested. And it was good. 

We aren't the people we married, but we are in this together. Glory be to God.

Eyes to See

One of the most amazing things about having triplets is seeing the old nature vs nurture argument play out before my very eyes on a daily basis. It may just be coincidence, but there are elements of my children's personalities that were reflected in entries in my pregnancy journal regarding their individual behavior in the womb.

And just as a parent of singletons experiences, it is a wonder to see different physical characteristics that have been inherited from their paternal or maternal genes. R got his Daddy's dimples and eyelashes. P got his hair and face shape. K got his curls and apparently his vision problems. (She got so many of his strengths, I guess it is only fair that a weakness or two would come through.)

She was diagnosed with myopia during Thanksgiving Break, and like her brother two years ago, K got her first pair of glasses today.

It has been interesting to watch my normally confident and unruffled girl be a bit anxious. Apparently a couple of kids told her she was going to look "weird and strange." And so begins the maternal struggle to equip my child for mean-spiritedness.

My first instinct was to call their Mamas or to tattle to the teacher. But, honestly, it is not even remotely at that point. She's not being socially maligned. There haven't been any tears shed. She is not in danger. She's just feeling a little insecure (for the first time that I have noticed.)

It is real life. People say things--especially kids. I can't (and won't) be on every playground to fight every battle for my children.  Sure, it would have made me feel like a crusader for a moment, but it wouldn't have changed anything. My job is not to bubble wrap my children so they can float through this world detached but unscathed. No, my role is to train them up in how to make their way in this world. In it, but not of it.

So even though it stung my heart (probably more than hers if I am honest.) I equipped her instead. We talked about how to handle it. We lamented that people say silly/teasing things sometimes because they have no idea what to say (especially 8 year olds). We reflected on how important it was for us to remember that even teasing words can sting. We committed to learn from this experience not to treat others the same way.

It brought back memories of my own elementary school experience...different decade, same experiences. I was 'wise owl' for being intelligent, 'wicked witch' because of my coal black hair, 'olive oyl' because of my skinny frame. I was a very late bloomer, extremely petite (4 ft tall and 48 pounds in 6th grade) so out of necessity I dressed in clothes intended for children much younger than me. I will never forget, my sweet Mama back in 1985 drying my tears, turning on MTV for inspiration (seriously, a ZZ Top video) and helping me emulate a foldover ruffled sock and tennis shoe combo to bring a bit more relevance to my wardrobe.
  
Our incident hasn't required MTV, but we did find some fun (bright blue on the inside) glasses K could get excited about. When I got the call it was time to pick them up today, I drove over to check her out of school with butterflies in MY stomach. I called a friend and confessed that perhaps I was more anxious than my girl. I asked her to join me in praying that I would CALM DOWN and not become the source of the very anxiety I was trying to help her avoid. I had to lay down MY stuff in order to love my girl appropriately.

When they brought out her glasses in a bright pink, heart shaped box she grinned that snaggle toothed smile. When she put them on, she beamed. Her sweet Daddy came to get the first look at her and gave her his enthusiastic approval. She walked back into school feeling like a million bucks.

And, again, I was the one who was nervous on the inside. Her class was at PE, so as we swung open the door to the gym I inhaled deeply. A precious friend shouted, "K! I love them!!" The other girls in her class dropped their basketballs and formed a circle around her, smiling and offering complimentary words. My heart practically burst open with thanksgiving for the kindness of those children.

K quickly assimilated back into the group bearing a million watt smile. I walked away smiling too...and shaking my head at yet another lesson that seemed intended for my children, but hit me squarely between the eyes too. She got glasses to improve her vision & her mother got some insight in the process.

These little hearts...this big world...a mother's vulnerability in her love...God has ALL of it in His plans and in His Hands.