That's from Dad

My son Parker is a sensitive and emotionally intelligent young man. He is physically affectionate, charming and caring. Even at 13 years old, he runs to hug my husband with a huge grin when he arrives home from work. He is also always the last child out of my car in the morning during school drop off. Every single morning Parker exits the car with a warm goodbye then stops and looks back after 2-3 steps with a verbal "I love you, Mom," or a sign language version accompanied by a warm smile and a wink.

A couple of months ago he saw a wedding day photo of my husband kissing me on my forehead. I mentioned that the tender gesture made my heart melt even now. Proving that he is a good listener, kissing me on the forehead has become his newest and most special way of communicating his affection.

We tease at home about his charming gestures. I tell him he's going to be a tender and wonderful spouse and my husband reminds him that I am already married. In keeping with this banter, he now compliments me or kisses my hand and says, "that's from Dad" with a wink. He wants to show affection and give my husband the credit.

As I have read so much in the news in the last couple of weeks about the mistreatment of women, I have felt a myriad of emotions. I am a woman, raising a young woman and two young men. I have been on the receiving end of unwanted advances and comments. I have experienced disrespectfulness. I know the anger, the sting and the shame.

I also, thankfully, know what it means to be in a relationship with a respectful, caring and honorable man. Parker's antics are a reminder to me that our children are watching. They are gleaning what it means to be a gentleman and how women are to be treated.

We are hearing a whole lot of ugly in the news, I just wanted to pause and esteem the good. May we not forget that there are still respectful, loving and godly men. May we honor them and commit to raising more of them. I am incredibly grateful that my children are watching an amazing example and somehow already realize the tenderness and charm they are developing is a credit to their Dad.

When Words Take Root

"He (Jesus) saw the potential in the lives of sinners. In Simon, He saw a rock. In Matthew, the publican, He saw a faithful disciple who would one day write one of the four Gospels..." -Warren Wiersbe

I have a house full of big personalities that illicit a wide range of emotions from their Mama--laughter, frustration, delight and a fair bit of cringing. When left unto itself, my mind races away with thoughts of what a child's future will look like if this or that weakness isn't reigned in. I have written many times about my temptation to parent from a place of fear rather than hope.

I want to be a wise steward of these little lives, but I also want to be like my Lord. Not leading anyone or anything impatiently or in a panic...but living and moving as an expression of faith. I loved this reminder that Jesus, Himself, was a seer of potential...focused on who people were to become moreso than where they were currently stuck.

During a recent session of purging my trio's backpacks I came across projects that gave me pause. Each of my 5th graders had completed a coat of arms assignment, researching colors and symbols to use in the design they felt best represented them.

The artwork was cute, but the attached explanations allowed a glimpse into their self image, values and aspirations that does not come frequently with tweens. As I savored these snapshots of who my 11 1/2  year olds are becoming, I pondered the implication of words spoken to them through this first decade+ of their lives.

To read what my kiddos state as their beliefs about their burgeoning identity left me awestruck. They were given a word bank of colors, symbols and their corresponding meaning, then free reign to express themselves. There was only one duplicate on their pages.

Here are a few excerpts of what they chose.

 P: "I chose a dove which represents trust in God, because I have faith in the Lord. I used silver because it represents peace."
"Gold represents generosity. I like to help people like our foster kids."
"I chose a globe because I love to travel the world."
"Green represents joy, hope & loyalty. I chose this because I'm usually happy and hopeful. For example, I hope our foster children will learn about God."

K: "I chose the Ichthus (Greek for fish)representing belief in Jesus. I thought this would be a good image to choose because I trust and love Jesus and God with all my heart."
I decided on blue for my background color. It represents truth and loyalty. I used this color because I always tell the truth and never tell a secret.
I chose thyme for my image. It represents courage and strength. I used this because I am brave when it comes to heights and ropes courses. I am also not scared of anything.
I chose gold because it means generosity. I share my stuff with my foster sisters."

R: "I picked the allerion because I trust God and He gives me strength. I chose white because I trust God and He helps me with my choices. I chose the anchor because I have a big belief in God and I love him from the bottom of my heart. I chose maroon because it means patient in battle and victorious. I chose this because I'm doing my best and having a comeback in school."

These are just excerpts. There were certainly humorous parts that reminded me these are children with lots of growing left to do...like the fact that R chose black for "constancy or grief because I am coming out of some hard times." (Concerned, I asked him what he was referring to and he flashed dimples and confessed he just thought black would look cool.)

But, typical 11 year old behavior considered, I was struck by the insight this project offered. Even while groaning at chores, attempting to sneak in a little extra screen time or practicing making body noise sounds that annoy, truth IS taking root in their hearts.

Exactly 4 hours before these beautiful, hope giving words came home I was confessing to my small group all the ways I feel like I am blowing it. I lamented that the business of life and ALL THESE CHILDREN was not allowing for the neat, picturesque moments I like to imagine my family having...

The evening Bible studies by the fire I aspire to as marks of a godly, together Mom are a stark contrast the wet haired children I am trying to coral into bed or the exhausted big kids splayed across the sofa watching replays of American Ninja Warrior.

But through the faithfulness of God and the countless adults God has placed in the lives of my children, Truth is taking deep root in their hearts.

As I read their assignments, I recognized some of the words their father and I have spoken over them--prayers we have prayed through the years. But their were other parts did not come from us, but from coaches, teachers, children's ministry volunteers, friends, family members--and oh, how God is weaving all of it together to form identity in their hearts! Truly breathtaking.

"A person becomes a person through other people." Desmond Tutu

This is the body. This is community. This is how lasting identity is formed. What a reminder to show up for other people's kids with well placed words and the investment of life on life! What an encouragement to stick with the rhythms of Bible study, church attendance and even Sunday afternoon lunch traditions with friends that have become family. These rituals form a framework where truth can be safely spoken and actively lived out.

Moment upon moment identity is being forged. Just as it is hard as a Mama to see just how much your children are growing in height, I think it can be equally challenging to see how their hearts are growing in depth. Every now and then we get these moments where we rub our eyes and go, "whoa." All of this investment of prayer and love and talking is adding up to something.

And here's the thing:  NOTHING IN THE ECONOMY OF GOD IS WASTED, even those real life moments! Squabbling siblings, ropes courses, family travel, grades that reflect not doing our best, the blending in of younger foster kids and the stretching and growth it requires? God is using it!!!

"It's an unbelievable experience to watch your kids become their own person. You know that all humanity has walked this way before, but for you and your child, it's all new. You are living the clichés, but now they are real and different."
- Sara Groves

This week I had the chance to sneak out of town for 24 hours of reconnection with dear old friends. I realized it is the same way in my adult heart. I have known these girls for more of my life than I haven't. Over 23 years we have experienced the highest of highs in joy, love and laughter and the lowest of lows in loss, pain and regret. Yet, even in our 40s, when we get together and share our hearts we remark to each other "My, how you have grown since I saw you last."

Nothing is wasted in the economy of God--not in a child's life and not in their Mama's.

So, today, Lord, lead us and guide us in having eyes to see and marvel all the ways You are at work. Give us words of hope, love and truth  and the courage and commitment to speak them. May we plant words that help each other grow into the people You have planned.

Hearing the Bells

When my children were babies I weighed the pros and cons of various Santa traditions.  My husband & I decided our family's observance of Christmas and Advent had room for both Jesus and Santa. Jesus is supreme day in and day out, for eternity, while the man in the red suit makes for fun memories of anticipation and generosity in the latter part of December. 

Over the years we have had some explaining to do in regards to why Santa only brings three gifts to each child in our home on Christmas morning while some friends, classmates and neighbors get more than three. We've indicated that there is a partnership between Santa & parents, explaining parents play an important role in Santa's choices--price range, number, whether or not a gift is appropriate/allowed, etc. 

Operation Christmas Child shoebox packing and our involvement with a local children's home also required us to address the economics of funding Santa Claus' gift giving. ("Why are WE getting this? Why don't they just ask Santa Claus?") We've explained that some parents are unable to pay for gifts which allows the rest of the community the opportunity to rally around and 'elf,' helping make Christmas happen. 

I have realized how much this summarizes the most beautiful message of Santa Claus: Giving without concern for getting credit. It is the most precious part of the secular Christmas season.

Being my children's trustworthy source of information as they figure out this world is a priority to me. I have sought to honestly answer the questions we are asked while still preserving the mystery and fun of the observance. The wonder of childhood is a gift.

This year, to borrow a term from Polar Express, the sound of the bells has started to fade...but not for my entire trio. While one is all in, one seems quietly suspicious and the third is in full investigative mode. With precocious 10 and a half year olds, the questions have grown more mature, probing and specific. 

Last week my P and I were alone in the car when he started grilling me. He saw some inconsistencies in various explanations and asked me to explain the inner workings of the parent/Santa connection. "I mean, do you Skype with him or text or what?!?"

I reminded him that he could trust me to tell the truth. I told him I would answer all his questions, but wanted him to make sure he was ready for it. I explained that Christmas is different when the wonder is gone and you understand all the inner workings.

Ever thoughtful and circumspect, he exhaled a sigh of an old soul and said, "Mom, based on how you are answering these questions, I think I see where this is headed. But just in case, can I wait two more years and ask you to explain everything when I am twelve?"

I grinned wide and agreed to his request and he hasn't mentioned it since.

It's the most WONDER-ful time of the year!

Thoughts from a Bike

Yesterday afternoon our family joined close friends for a 5 mile bike ride along our city's river. It was a gorgeous day and all seven combined children are fairly proficient on their bikes---but still--it was a bit of an adventure.

Our young biker gang was full of energy and enthusiasm, but with an age range of 4-10 there were various degrees of stamina, proficiency and courage. One adult took the lead with the 'big kids' and another got at the end of that pack in case of overzealous wipe outs. The remaining two adults stayed in the back of the group with the youngest riders.

We zipped along the riverside path with yahoos, giggles and the occasional wobble. I was in Drill Sargent mode, shouting commands to STOP, MOVE TO THE RIGHT or GO with no time for fanfare or even much encouragement. I care for all these little people. I wanted them to have fun, but most importantly I wanted to insure they were safe.

As a 'responsible party' I enjoyed myself, but I would not describe it as a relaxing ride. I was ever on guard for potential hazards--pedestrians, dogs, large rocks, sandy places along the path... I was constantly surveying the landscape, but also assessing the children--who was getting too aggressive, who was straggling.

We made it--with a sense of accomplishment and stories to tell.

The return trip, however, was completely different. I needed a head start at home to prepare for a few dozen Young Life leaders so, P and I left the pack and returned early.

The trip back, with just one child, was amazing.

Rather than the straight line formation, there were many places along the trail where P & I could ride side by side.

I let him determine our pace...sometimes it was slow and steady...other times it was fast and free.

When we encountered tough climbs I could focus on encouragement.

When he wanted to get off and walk a minute, that was fine too.

And even though it was the exact same trail in reverse, the experience was vastly different because it wasn't about the group anymore, it was personal.

I know it makes me weird that I have thoughts like this during Sunday afternoon bike rides...but I had a real aha moment with the Lord.

Not only was this excursion a reminder of how critical one-on-one time is with our children, spouses and other meaningful relationships in our life---it resonated in my soul as the reason daily quiet time with my God is so important.

In a group setting, my tendency is to compare myself (especially my inadequacies) to the proficiency of the rest of the group...where do I rank in speed, agility, service, godliness, maturity... I feel like the straggler, wobbling around on my bike--just trying to make it through this life without too many wipe outs and bloody knees.

But when I find myself on the path with just the Lover of my Soul? I am free to fly around corners, or confess my desire to slow down and just breathe. He is no longer just a Drill Sargent voice in the crowd of my life...He is my loving Savior, my heavenly parent with whom I can talk about the landscape or simply enjoy travelling with in quiet spaces.

“We never grow closer to God when we just live life. It takes deliberate pursuit and attentiveness.” ― Francis Chan, Crazy Love: Overwhelmed by a Relentless God

Intimacy is a product of intentional time and space. It is true with our spouses, our children, our friends and our Lord.

"Draw near to God and He will draw near to you." James 4:8

Decisions, Decisions

I had all sorts of random fears when I first learned I was carrying three babies. 

Would I ever sleep again?

Would people ever be able to tell them apart?

Would they speak in their own language & plot an uprising without my knowledge?

How on Earth would I manage alone time with each child?

Would this "trio" be able to find themselves as individuals outside of the group? 

So many of these fears weighed into early decisions like: 

Sharing a room or not (and for how long)

If/When to split them up at school

and even whether it was detrimental to dress them as a unit

There were so many opinions and a healthy amount of discussion surrounding each of these topics.

And like so much of parenting, my husband & I ultimately made decisions as they came and then we exhaled a prayer or 25 and went with it. Often we had to tweak and adjust, because life works that way. An important lesson in parenting was reinforced: There is no formula but to love hard, pray hard and be willing to recognize and follow through with necessary adjustments along the way.

As we enter these tween years, I do a lot more coaching that instructing--and that requires observation. I am loving the opportunity to watch and see how God is bringing things together in these young lives.

After a decade of investment, shoots of growth & fruit pop up at random times, like last night during our school's Open House. Each 4th grader made an "About Me" wheel that was displayed on the classroom walls with a visual representation of 8 things they enjoy. I marveled at 24 examples of my children's stories unfolding.

At 10 years old, she aspires to be a Veterinary Surgeon or a National Geographic Photographer "that hangs off cliffs." 

At 10 years old, his career goal is to be a video game maker or a dog trainer.

At 10 years old, he aspires to be a professional sports player.

I am documenting these for posterity's sake, because I know time will change the specifics, but the message to my heart is the same.

Take the role as parent seriously, but remember their story is ultimately being written by One far greater than you. 

Love. Pray. Breathe. Pay Attention. Marvel.

Because even though mine have shared a womb and a life they are each growing and bending and blooming in different ways under the direction of the master Gardener who continues to provide, nurture, and prune.

And so am I.

A Prayer for the First Day of School

K, P, & R,
Happy first day of fourth grade! This morning you dressed yourselves and made your own breakfast. You gathered your own backpacks and tied your own shoes. You reminded me about the traditional first day of school photo and we made it to school not only on time, but with a few minutes to spare.

I was there. I woke you up (and you groaned). I circulated with reminders and prompts. I offered a little extra height to reach the cereal bowls and brushed 2/3 of your hair because you still haven't quite grasped that grooming is a part of getting dressed. But you have essentially figured this elementary school thing out. There were no tears--from me or you. We have come a long way, babies!

And now I am home in an eerily quiet house. For the first time in three months I can sip a second cup of coffee with only the soundtrack of a humming refrigerator and the occasional thumping of the dog's tail on the hardwood floor...and of course, the tapping of my laptop's keys.

I need to do a lot of things, but first on my list was to sit for a while and think about what I hope and pray for you in this age and stage of life. The older I get the more complex this world seems, and yet the clearer my call feels. I have read plenty of parenting/womanhood/life checklists, but it always seems to come back to this:

May you love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul and mind...and love your neighbor as you love yourself. 

I borrowed those words from Jesus and I offer them as your benediction.

Loving the Lord with all your heart means trusting Him with your hurt feelings and your greatest wants. I pray as you grow, you will want Him first and above all else. When your heart seeks approval from your peers, your teachers and even from me and your Dad, I pray you will remember you are ALREADY approved in Him. Lean into Him. Allow Him to shower you with His love.

Loving with your soul is about the deepest places, loving Him with who you are. At ten, we are only beginning to discover your talents and unique gifting, but some are becoming apparent. I urge you to love Him with your leadership, R, your energy, K, and your sensitivity, P.

Loving Him with your mind, means being diligent about what is being allowed into your brain, what thoughts you allow to take root. It also involves applying yourself at school. God has gifted you each with different kinds of intelligence. My problem solver/strategist, my creative and my curious, I pray you will give those minds back to Him. May you see school as a place those gifts are being nurtured and refined for your good and His Glory. This is not about all As, it is about being engaged and interested. Education is a gift and a journey to further equip you for the call on your lives.

Loving your neighbor as yourself is a tall order, but when we begin to grasp how He loves us, it all makes a bit more sense. Your classmates, your teachers and those younger students who are looking up to you are dearly loved by God. Part of loving Him is loving them...especially, when we don't feel like it. Look out for who needs a friend. Be respectful of and grateful for the teachers and school staff who are giving their lives to your care. Forgive those who are hurtful or rude--you have no idea what may be going on in their lives.

If you are ever in doubt how to respond in any situation, I pray you will ask yourself one question: what is the loving thing to do?

I hope this list doesn't make you feel overwhelmed. It is a lifelong journey I am still on at 39...and why I know I need Him. I am praying for you. God has plans for your lives--not just one day when you 'grow up,' but right now in the thick of elementary school.

I love you dearly and am so grateful for the front row seat to what He is doing in and through your lives.

So, go forth, laugh, play, discover, fall, fail, forgive, learn, grow...and may you do it all with love.

The Night Before 4th Grade

As I was cleaning up the kitchen after dinner tonight it struck me:

Yesterday my next door neighbor dropped her third child off at college.
Early this morning friends of ours had their first baby.
Tomorrow morning my ten year olds start the 4th grade.

I am not yet a veteran of parenting, but I am not such a newbie either. I am smack dab in the middle of this parenting journey (the at-home years, anyway) and it is a sweet place.

My kiddos still play in the backyard, but I don't have to be the activities coordinator. I can really play against them in board games, soccer, races and the like--and they beat me more often than not. Their questions are insightful. They ask me to explain things that are out of my league. (I am increasingly asking myself what parents did before Google.) They are able to articulate feelings and ideas that give a glimpse into how they are growing. Individual personalities are quite clear and defined.

But they are still children. They call me Mommy and want me around (most of the time). We act silly in the car and they aren't too big to believe in child-like things. I am still called upon occasionally for band-aids and kisses.

We have a long way to go in the next nine years together, but I am truly excited about where we are headed. I feel peace and joy in the journey, but have been increasingly feeling like days are approaching when K,P & R will start to feel more insecure. I don't want to put that on them, but am making efforts to check in.

As we put them to bed tonight, each child's tuck in involved two questions:
What are you most excited about in 4th grade?
What are you nervous about?
After we talked about their answers, my husband and I encouraged them to pray...talking to God just like they had talked to us. It was a sweet time, but the simple prayer of my P was just the gift my heart needed.

"Dear God, I just want to tell you that I love you and I'm really not worried about 4th grade."

I walked out of his room with a sigh and a goofy grin. They aren't worried. This is a year when they get to feel 'in the groove' of elementary school--and I get to step back and let them grow.

I am not feeling like the frantic Mama of first days of years past. I feel peace. Of course, this is real life. It won't be perfect, but it IS well with my soul.

Notes from Camp

Last month, BEFORE my people had taken off, I wrote a hopeful post about the positive points of Summer camping. Now that we are right smack in the middle of the adventure, I thought it would be appropriate to make some notes from the field.

1. Individual attention is beautiful--and sometimes makes them more grateful for their siblings.

While my husband and I have relished the rotation of 1-on-1 and 2-on-1 time that different camp weeks have allowed, at least one of our children has found all of our individual attention a bit much. One day, as we took P out on a lunch date he said, "Could you please stop staring at me and asking me all these questions?" He was overjoyed when we got a sitter to go out on a date one night and gave him a break. 

P and I even got a fun overnight road trip together when we journeyed to pick R up from North Carolina. I loved the sweet conversations with my introvert who so often gets drowned out by the more verbal members of our family. 

When R got in the car they were squabbling within a few minutes. Through a crooked grin P said, "I'm so glad he's back. I've been bored out of my skull."

2. While family is a beautiful foundation, our kids need a chance to be known beyond just that. 

One of the things I adore about small town living is how 'known' you can feel. The old Southern stereotype of "how's your mama?" is true. I enjoy knowing more about a person's roots--the dynamic they are coming from--but for an increasingly independent child (and maybe specifically a triplet), making your own way can be difficult to accomplish.

We intentionally chose camps for our boys that are not 'popular' among people from our town. While it has been a bit more of a leap of faith to drop them off with 'strangers,' I think it has been to their benefit. They didn't have the pull (or the comfort) of a group they've long known. They were stretched--and as children so often do--rose to the occasion and made new friends.  

Apparently, this included not talking about us much. When P & I arrived to get R his counselors were surprised. "He never mentioned any siblings." 

3. Pray a lot about the balance of 'preparing the road versus preparing the child.'

This is not really specific to camp, but I've been reminded of this phrase a lot during this experience. As our children age we simply cannot be everywhere as their apologist or their specialist outlining operating instructions. I am so guilty of this! I have made it my mission to become an expert in my people. As a result, I want to share that knowledge with everyone they come in contact with--to make sure they get maximum enjoyment/performance from my children. (Yes, I gulped when I typed that. But it is true.)

This comes from a good place. I've learned a lot about their temperament, challenges and strengths from experience. Wouldn't offering a cliff notes version be helpful to everyone? While there are places where this is important, I received some very wise advice to really pray over when and where to intervene in this way. My children must learn to adapt to this world because it is unrealistic to think it is always going to adapt to them.

My husband and I agreed: one paragraph. That's all I got to write on their camp forms. One paragraph to sum up 10 years of expertise in my people. The rest would work itself out. And guess what? It did.

4. Make sure to give their camp address to people in their life. I have absolutely loved opening up those smelly trunks full of dirty clothes to find card and letters from neighbors, friends and grandparents. I know my children probably don't fully appreciate the gift, but I am sure they felt loved. 

Handwritten letters are a dying art in today's world--camp is a perfect excuse for the tradition to be resurrected. These small notes of encouraging words and individual attention spoke care and concern to my people. Isn't that the real beauty of a handwritten note? Each crumpled note shouted, "I thought enough of you to pause my day, find a card, envelope, pen and stamp, and take a moment to write." 

At all three of my children's camps mail is delivered during the one hour rest period. I loved the thought of them lying on their bunks being poured into by little notes. Admittedly, I am a 'words' girl, but there are not many other occasions in a 10 year olds life when they can be pulled away from screens and siblings and just receive this kind of special attention.

5. Don't expect letters in return. I got two letters from P during his nine days away. K has been gone six days and I have received one. Shortly after picked R up from his week he announced, "I never wrote any letters because I played poker every day during rest time. It's a fun game. Want me to teach you?" 

Well, there you go.  

One more week away for my girl before all the birdies are back in the nest--and the ones who are home have already started talking about next year. 

An Arbitrary Recap of Pieces of May

Life in a family accelerates to warp speed in the month of May. As a result, all kinds of things happened that never rose to the level of having their own blog post. Since this is my children's only semblance of a scrapbook, please pardon me while I recap a few things:

1. My R, who is showing a lot of interest in music these days, performed in a cello concert earlier this month without removing his camo sunglasses. We were indoors in a gorgeous chapel. He was out of my reach and never chose to make eye contact...so I watched in wonder. Strong willed little future rock star?

2. My K is showing interest (and talent) in photography. She borrowed my camera for a bit recently and returned with several cool shots--including this one of our sweet Haley dog.

She's so comfortable in front of the camera, it is interesting to watch her transition to behind it. :-)

3. P is blossoming into a much more confident (and active) fella--and it is fun to watch. His introversion and sedentary nature is still dominant--it is the way he's wired. But I am happy to see him showing more interest in being outdoors some as well.

Dropping him off at sleepaway camp for NINE DAYS was a source of anxious anticipation for me for months but he truly seemed to show signs of readiness right before my very eyes in the 7-10 days before he left. There is SO much to be said for leaving room for our children to rise to the occasion. 

It was a true answer to prayer for this Mama (and his Daddy too.)

4.  These two really are pea and carrots. So sweet!

I can't help but think they will marry people with personalities that mirror each other. Only time will tell. 

5. Having 20 boys over for a Nerf birthday party in our backyard was epic...but at 5'2" I had ZERO control or voice. Many of these 9-10 year old boys are my height already--and they definitely are louder! Daddy took over leading the games and it was a testosterone fest to be long remembered!

6. Our 'girl party,' a photo scavenger hunt downtown, was also an active, memorable hit.

 The greatest souvenir for us, were some hilarious pictures of K's friends being their silly, sweet selves. 

7. iphones don't fare well in washing machines..especially when they go through the spin cycle.

And there you have it, a totally random wrap up of loose ends--a pretty accurate depiction of my Summer brain!

Listening to Little Love Languages

I fancy myself a bit of an amateur sociologist. Fascinated by people and what makes them tick, I have attempted to be a student of my children. Who are they? What's God up to in those little hearts? What do they need from me?

We've talked about things like "love tanks." I've asked them questions about how I can love them best--and predictably, as children, sometimes they've been better able to express their true needs than others. I am quite sure they wouldn't been able to articulate their love languages with words--but they are becoming quite clear at age almost-ten.

It was very apparent this morning at Muffins for Moms. As I read the letters they had written me and the "coupon books" each Third Grader was encouraged to make it became undeniable how uniquely each of my trio give and receive love.

My girl is undoubtedly acts of service. Her coupons were tasks that might lighten my workload: making my bed, laundry, dishes, car wash, breakfast in bed. Even her letter was complimentary of the things I do.

My introverted P's letter screamed of his love for physical touch and words of affirmation. His offers were snuggles, back scratches, kisses and hugs. All marked by little hearts and scrawls of  "I love you, Mom." And seriously, this beautifully written cursive letter melted my heart.

And, man oh man, is R a quality time guy. He feels love through play. His letter was about places we've been together, the photos he selected were from adventures we've taken and his coupons were all other experiences we can share: putt putt, bowling, go karting. (I asked if he intended to pay :-)

As I surveyed my stack a wide grin spread across my face. This is the way they seek to express love to me because it is what speaks love to their little hearts.

And it is most definitely not a formula. They shared seven months in a womb...but their love languages are as different as their appearances.

Thank you, Lord, for these glimpses and sign posts along the way...While so much of this parenting journey is mysterious, your guiding hand that is present and trustworthy. May we be found faithful in keeping our eyes and ears open.

Even if they they don't realize it, our kids are telling us who they are and what they need all the time--we just have to learn to SLOW DOWN, listen and pay attention.

When God Bonks You On The Head

The evening it happened I knew I should write about it. Yet, my wound was too fresh, my shame too raw. I would sit down to blog and an internal argument would ensue causing me to put my experience back on the shelf. One voice would whisper: “You should share this with other Mamas.” A competing voice would say, “No, it’s too soon.” The first voice would counter, “At least write it as a reminder to yourself.” The dissenting voice would reply, “Let’s just move on.”

Then, Saturday, I read this interview with Jeannie Cunnion about her new book Parenting the Wholehearted Child, and I knew it was time.

Last month a business associate contacted my husband and me to let us know he was going to be traveling through our town during a road trip with his family. Through our business interactions my husband and I have developed a friendship with Tom, but had never had the opportunity to meet his family. This seemed like a great chance to connect our kids-and for me to finally meet the wife of whom he so often speaks.

It was a Monday afternoon when their van with Indiana plates made its way to our town. It was Tom’s kids’ Spring Break—but just an ordinary school day for us. The boys had soccer practice right after school, then I ran to pick up a gluten free dinner I’d ordered to accommodate our guests. It wasn’t ready, so we were a bit behind schedule. Frustratingly, the half hour margin I had built into our afternoon was gone.

In case I have never mentioned it in this space, I have two anxiety triggers—running late and feeling like I am inconveniencing people. I am AT MY WORST when I feel like I’m putting people out. It has been a painful process for me to realize that I disrespect my own family members (the people I love and value most) from this anxious place of trying to be respectful of others.

The kids & I hurriedly pulled into my driveway with our dinner in the trunk at exactly the moment our guests arrived. I went into Host-zilla mode and spouted instructions to the kids.

“Go immediately inside and change from your soccer clothes and come directly back downstairs to greet our guests. Do NOT get distracted.”

I waved to the guests, unloaded the food quickly, then did a quick glace around the downstairs to make sure we were ready to receive. As I was making my way to the front door I heard the sounds of Mario Kart coming from the dark mudroom. My heart rate quickened. Stupid screens…I peeked around the corner to see my P, head down, playing a handheld device. Whaaaa?

And this is the part where I gulp hard (for the first time).

I lost it.

“Hey!” I exclaimed as a popped him on the top of the head like I was ringing a bell for service. “What on Earth do you think you are doing?!?”

I promise this is NOT how I ordinarily handle my children. If you have ever dealt with a sensitive, anxiety prone child with a propensity for zoning out you know this is exactly the WRONG way to get their attention. The emotional whiplash from being jerked back into reality rarely works out well.  Predictably, he started crying. His big tear filled brown eyes looked up at me as he stammered, “What did I do?”

Feeling justifiably angry I said, “I told you to go change clothes. I made it very clear we were in a hurry. And you are in here playing a VIDEO GAME!?”

Still crying, appearing bewildered and sad he said, “But, Mom, I did change. I did what you said.”

And although I still have no idea how he managed to do so that quickly, a double check of his appearance confirmed his story. He was sporting the same exact colors he had been wearing before, but he was in clean clothes.

In other words, I completely overreacted and behaved like a very unkind and upsetting Mama as a result of jumping to the wrong conclusion. My heart sank. I was so ashamed. I literally fell to my knees before him.

For months I have been preaching/teaching/praying for him about how to handle his anxiety—how to take a breath, slow down and NOT jump to conclusions. And in an instant I had embodied every bad example. Now my innocent child was upset and of course, the front doorbell rang.

DING DONG.

Through tears of my own and a huge sigh I said, “P, I was wrong. I overreacted. I did everything I tell you not to do. I was worried and upset and I freaked out. I am so sorry.”

DING DONG

Oh ,the irony that I wanted to ‘impress’ my guests with our appropriately dressed family, good manners and a welcoming home—and I left them standing on the porch while repaired a spirit I crushed inside. I glanced at the door, then into the brown, bespectacled eyes of my boy.

“I am really, very sorry. Will you forgive me?”

“Yes, " he replied with sweet sincerity, "Will you forgive me too?”

“Oh, you don’t owe me an apology, buddy. You did the right thing. I was the one who was wrong.” I gulped again.

I hugged him tight, then anticipating the third ring of the bell from a family of five that had been driving all afternoon, I dashed to the door. With my best ‘together’ smile I greeted the guests and welcomed them into our ‘lovely’ home. And I felt like a fake. In my desire to offer a 'home' to our company I had hurt one who lived there.

An hour into our visit, while discussing the humility of parenthood, I confessed why they had been left on the porch for a bit. Ironically, I got the sense that the humble authenticity was probably the thing that made my guests feel most welcome of all. And I wondered again why we don't all try to live more from this place of 'real.'

Make no mistake, I am not proud of my behavior...but my freak out wasn't the end of the story. As I humbled myself God was able to redeem even my yuck.

That night as I was putting P to bed I brought the incident up once more.

“When Jesus forgives, it is handled. It’s done. You don’t have to keep going over it again and again. But, P, I have to tell you, I still feel terrible about the way I handled things earlier. I am so sorry my heart hurts.”

I could barely make out his face in the darkness, but there was no mistaking the feeling of his skinny arms wrapping themselves around me neck.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

I choked back tears.

So often in hurtful situations both parties share parts of the blame—but not this time. In this scenario it was clear. I was the offender. My boy was the offended. His forgiveness was freely offered—in the tenderest of ways—above and beyond. And I felt a sense wash over me that THIS is grace. Unearned. Gifted to my embarrassed, repentant heart.

This is the picture of love that I hope I never forget (and to offer to others). A sincere apology from a contrite heart, met with kindness and a sweet embrace.

In some respects, the whole situation was God's way of bonking me in the head. Waking me up from my little world where all of my kids' heart development depends on me. It's just not true. I have a responsibility, indeed, but clearly it's not all up to (or about, ahem) me.

Obviously, I wish I could always be the good example. I regret the way I handled my son’s heart. I pray the Lord will continue to work on my patience. But I was blown away by the reminder that God is working in my boy's heart to nurture a tenderness that I can't take much of the credit for.

The same is true of my other ones. God doesn't ask me to be a perfect Mother. In fact, Scripture testifies time and again to the fact that I CAN'T and I WON'T. The point is for my children to worship GOD not ME. My responsibility is not to be their Savior, but to point them to Him. 

Raising my Walter Mitty

My P is a day dreamer. He lives for reading, video games and drawing--things that take him into a fantasy world far more exciting than his daily life. He is bright, creative and funny--but it is sometimes difficult to connect with him. I borrowed a slogan from a friend who describes it as "living in a happy place that we have to dial long distance to reach."

I adore my son for many reasons, but honestly, the fact that he is a puzzle that takes time and patience to unlock is one of his finest qualities. As an extrovert who loves to communicate and longs to be understood, I am fascinated by the fact that knowing P is a right you have to earn. Few people get true glimpses into his heart and mind, but what a delightful gift he is when you get there!

A few weeks ago I watched "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty." I understand the literary work is quite different than the movie, but what relished about the film was the chance to get a sneak peek into the mind of a person that escapes reality by delving into an imagined world where he is the hero--brave, strong, confident and capable. Meanwhile, people in his real life dismiss him as spacy and clueless.

I won't spoil the movie's plot, but ultimately, Walter Mitty is faced with the choice to continue living 'safe' while imagining his desired life or make 'daring' real life decisions in line with his fantasies. Although it was a work of fiction, it has weighed on me to connect these lessons to an application for my boy.

I read with interest an article explaining one of the reasons boys love video games so much is because they get to be the hero. They can accomplish things (new high scores, beating levels, unlocking characters) much faster in a pixelated world than they can in real life--and that feels good. This realization offered some perspective to the screens that are so often my parenting nemesis, but it also challenged me to look for ways that my boys can find those feelings of heroism and accomplishment in real life. (This is a work in progress.)


An extrovert raising an introvert is a unique challenge. I love my boy and all the gifts his life offers to the world. Helping him find a voice--especially in our family full of other (louder) ones--is a journey.

I am grateful for P as a living, breathing daily reminder to slow down and invest in getting to know people who don't always wear their heart on their sleeves. I'm learning that like my P, many of the quietest/fringe people are full of little known treasure. What joy to discover it!

**Updated 5/15/14 to add: ** Tonight our family finally sat down to watch the movie I based this post on. Predictably, P loved it. After the closing credits I had a stolen moment with my P. "You know that movie reminds me of you? Walter's imagination, his courage when it counted, the world travel."
With a huge grin he said, "I'd love that to be my life, Mama..." Then he squenched up his face and continued, "But dog trainers don't make enough money for all that travelling."
Then he went into his room and got a sticky note from his drawer and in his prettiest cursive wrote a quote from the movie, "Beautiful things don't ask for attention." He stuck it to his bulletin board before climbing into bed. I love that kid!

Whatever This Is

On our final night of vacation last week we went out for a celebratory dinner with my inlaws. The setting, overlooking the ocean, was incredible and the menu looked amazing.

Shortly after placing our orders, the servers appeared with a treat from the chef--a sorbet to cleanse our pallets before the first course arrived. At first my children were thrilled. Ice cream at the beginning of the meal!

We quickly noted that this scoop was a little different. It was garnished with cilantro and had avocado slices on the side. My children were thoroughly confounded as the server announced that it was a tomato sorbet. They were polite, but their facial expressions screamed:
Tomato ice cream?
We didn't ask for this!

We asked P to bless our food. His prayer was short and sweet--and has resonated in my heart and mind for the last 8 days.

"Dear God,
thank you for whatever-this-is.
In Jesus' name we pray, Amen."

He seemed quite serious as the rest of our table stifled our giggles. The phrase has stuck with me:

"Thank you for whatever this is..."

In fairness, despite the prayer, 2/3 of my 9 year olds declined to taste the sorbet, but the sentiment remains. Back in the post vacation real world, as I have encountered circumstances that were not quite what I ordered...unexpected treats life has thrown my way, contrary to my own desires, I've pondered those words. Gratefulness as a habit/decision, even when the feelings may not yet be present.

It got put to the test the day after that dinner as our family of five missed our connecting flight (despite a valiant effort) and wound up with an extra 18 hours luggage-less in 107 degree Phoenix. After a few tears at the gate, (we missed the flight by 4 minutes!!) I heard my little bespectacled guy's voice: Thank you God, for whatever this is... We embraced the adventure and made a memory.

I pray for my responses to become increasingly more like P's prayer. What if gratitude was my first response...before the why's, protests or pity parties? What if I started with thankfulness, before I had all the answers?

I can only imagine more joy and peace would follow.
True faith and trust are most often found in the "whatever."

"Thank you, God, for whatever this is."

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!

From the Mouths of Babes (Summer Camp Edition)

We dropped our curly girl off at camp Sunday morning.

It's only been 36 hours, but some sweet memorable comments have been made. The night before she left, K said to me, "The first thing I need to do when I get to camp is find a funny friend who can make me laugh the way P does."
And it melted my heart.

While the only thing R has said about her is that he misses having "a real competitor in MarioKart" this hastily written letter reveals a little more sweetness underneath.

Translation:

"Violets are red,

roses are blue,

grass is green

so we miss you

because you are the sunshine of our family."

Absence seems to indeed make the heart grow fonder. I hope all this love continues when she gets home. :-)

And while this has absolutely nothing to do with camp, it's too amusing not to share. Over lunch Sunday P made this face.

As my husband & I giggled we asked how he learned to do that. He replied (completely seriously), "It's my gift. God gave Tommy the gift of being able to play the piano by ear and He gave me the gift of being able to do THIS."

Glory to God indeed. :)

Summer Week One: A Different Kind of Harvest

When I think about this season of parenthood, I think it can most aptly be described as raising an apple, an orange and an artichoke...all in the same garden at the same time.

 

Same age. Same eyes. Same last name. Same school. Different strengths and weaknesses. Various talents. Assorted interests. Unique challenges. I cannot expect each member of my trio to respond to life in the same way any more than I could expect an apple seed to sprout an artichoke.

 

I love all three SO VERY much--but they each bring a very different flavor to my life. Laughter. Patience. Humility. Deep Thought. Sanctification.

 

I was recently reflecting on how K's steady temperament has been used by the Lord to counter my excitability. She gets me in a way that defies her age. I can tell by the look on her face when I am heading off the rails. She (somewhat maddeningly) doesn't flinch.

God is using her to teach me about the blessing of consistency & joy. 

R's need to be heard and understood is a mirror into the soul struggle of my life. Our love is feisty and fierce. He's so strong--and he reminds me of a young me. I want to save him from some lessons I had to learn the hard way, but of course, he is too much like me to listen. We have spent years praying together for self control.

God is using R to teach me about courage and loyalty.

 

God gave me P as an ever present reminder to never give up. His struggle to learn patience despite challenges has required me to pay renewed attention to mine.

When I want to give up, I think about P. God's used him to teach me endurance.

His dry sense of humor and tender heart bring much joy to my life.

 

As curator of the garden where they are planted, I am kept constantly on my toes by the fact that they have different needs as they grow. This one more watering, that one more pruning, the other more time and space to mature. I did not create them, nor can I control their growth. It is simply mine to provide a healthy setting for their development, to tend to them through changing seasons/conditions and remove impediments that might choke them out.

 

I sigh and pray God will keep me mindful.

 

Frankly, all these competing needs in same aged packages can make the school year exhausting. But Summer is a precious time to let each explore their interests more fully than the hectic nature of a school day/homework schedule will allow.

 

This week R has been enjoying tennis camp, while K participated in an equestrian program. P chose to stay home and bond a bit with me.

An apple, an orange and an artichoke...each grew measurably this week through rain and sunshine. I am looking quite forward to several more weeks of this kind of Summer gardening!