A Prayer of Release

A friend sent this to me recently and I have re-read it daily. I decided to record it here for easy access (and in case it blesses anybody else!) I tried to find a source, and it appears it was taken from a 30-year-old book called Prayer Portions by Sylvia Gunter.  What a reminder that through the decades humans have struggled with the same root desires! 

The person who texted it to me referred to it as a Declaration of Release. Even the title convicts me to loosen my grip in faith and trust. May we trust the Lord to keep that which we already committed Him at the time of their baptism/dedication! ("...I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him until that day." 2 Timothy 1:12)

"Because Jesus Christ is my Lord, 

I free you from my anxiety, fears, and control.

I trust the Holy Spirit to lead you and show you the way that is right for you, the way of love, joy, peace, and all that salvation includes. 

I place you at God’s throne of grace. 

I cannot force my will on you. 

I cannot live your life for you. 

I give you to God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. 

As much as I love you, God loves you more. 

Your life today is totally in His hands, and I trust Him with it. 

I release you from my expectations, I place you on open palms to the Lord. 

I give you my blessings. 

I let you go, in His love." 

It is God who works in you to will and to act according to His good purpose. Being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it to completion until the day of Christ Jesus (Phi 2:13, 1:6).

Parenting with Faith Over Fear

Yesterday the courts made official what we had been anticipating. After a year, our 4-year-old foster daughter was reunified with her biological parents. There will be another post about that...but as I was having coffee in a quiet early morning house today I read a post by Preston Yancey and felt a sweet reminder of how God is working so many things together for good in my heart and family right now. 


Preston's post has a different point than mine, but in the beginning, he shares a story about times in his life when fear and shame have been attempted as motivators, but what won out was encouragement and faith. Specifically, God powerfully used an obscure verse in Habakkuk to plant a future hope in him when he was 13 years old.

"Look at the nations and watch-- and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told." Habakkuk 1:5 NIV

I have been tempted to worry about the child who has left our home. Her safety and overall development have been my concern for the last year--and now I will hopefully get an occasional visit. I pray hard against recurrences of the issues that led to her removal. I field questions from well-intentioned friends about what the 'what ifs.'

Meanwhile, I am sending three young teenagers into the world at warp speed. My Summer is a mixture of camp drop-offs--where they are out of my sights for 1-3 weeks at a time, preparing for the brand new world of high school, and teaching them the immense responsibility of driving on real roads with other human beings. 

Last week I started compiling a list of life survival/adulting skills my husband and I have yet to cover and I am almost at 200--the same number of weeks we have left with them before high school graduation. In all of these things, there are true safety considerations. They are still minors and my job is to teach them to live outside the nest...but as they become increasingly independent I find myself fighting daily fears of what could happen if things don't go well.

I want them to fly, not flop. While I know that scars and hard knocks are powerfully used to sanctify and develop us into adults who are used by the Lord, I adore these people and frankly, would prefer they arrive at adulthood as innocent and intact as possible.

So, the temptation is to desperately warn them about ALL THE THINGS. Be on guard!  The verse from Habakkuk this morning, however, took me back to being their age. I am reminded that I was never attracted to the fear-mongerers. I wanted to hear from the people who believed in me and spoke to me about the bright hope of the future. I think even of our most recent foster, at least once a week at prayer time she would point to the large painting of Jeremiah 29:11 over her bed and say, "Just pray that tonight, Mama." We all want to reassurance that there is a plan, maintained by someone stronger and wiser than us, for future hope.

Perhaps the most powerful lesson God has impressed upon me in our 4 years of foster parenting is that even our biological children are entrusted to us but for a little while. We stood before our congregation and proclaimed many years ago our belief that they are His. We build all sorts of safety nets, invest in future dreams and give them everything we have--but ultimately, we are not in control of their future. We can either be terrified by this or exhilarated.

May we never let our parental fears drown out our overwhelming hope we have for the life God has planned for the people we love. This is challenging. It requires us to loosen our white-knuckled grip and release them to their loving Creator. It is a daily laying down of our will for His. We must put this phrase on repeat: Faith triumphs fear. 

We want the people we love to be safe and dare I even say wildly successful, but at some point we have to ask ourselves how success will be measured. As for me, I choose God's utterly amazing story. 

"Look at the nations and watch-- and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told." 

Muscle Building

I hate working out.

I love outdoor adventures. I enjoy family bike rides, hikes and swimming--but something about going to the gym turns me off. I don't enjoy it--and I am not particularly good at delayed gratification. I like to see return for my work that gives me a boost to keep going.

As you might imagine, there is rarely a dull moment in a house full of 13 year olds. I actually asked one of my children if for my birthday I could have one week without a call or e-mail from a teacher or school representative. Most of this particular child's adventures are harmless, but it would be dishonest to say I haven't struggled with WHAT IN THE WORLD we can do with this kid.

While I have been involved in various aspects of youth ministry for two decades, parenting teens is a different role than being their Young Life leader, their Sunday School teacher or their Bible Study facilitator or mentor.

I am gobbling up wise words like a starving person--and as I read, pray, listen and reflect on experiences the word that comes to mind over and over again is PROCESS. This is a process. 

In no other stage of life have we expected our children to learn immediately and without errors. When our babies were learning to walk, falling was a part of the deal. We laughed, clapped and comforted. We didn't lecture and act ashamed.  

When they were trying solid foods we took copious photos of their messy faces and trays. Our potty training toddlers were expected to have accidents. We rejoiced when they didn't and understood bladder control was a new skill and it would take time to perfect.  

Why then, do we wring our hands and fret endlessly over the stumbles, accidents and messiness of the growing adolescent?

Adolescence is a stage in life where the stakes seem higher because we are starting to see the launch date on the horizon. The sound of the ticking clock gets louder and the expectations and fears ring in our ears. 

Last week as I was walking through a painful life lesson with a child I was reminded that he has to grow his muscles--and that means working them out...having them stretched, reaching his limits. And as his muscles are growing, so are mine...

We can choose to walk in fear or in faith. One is non-productive and sinful...and the other one is difficult, but the command God has given us.

FAITH not fear.

I recently read a rephrasing of 2 Corinthians 9 for parenting that I found very encouraging.
"No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no human mind has conceived--the things God has planned for those who love Him--including the good planned for your kiddos. TRUST."

The Night Before 7th Grade

Kate, Ryland & Parker,

Tomorrow morning the three of you will start your first day as 7th graders. This milestone feels huge to me. You are legitimately adolescents, at an age where I have vivid memories of the highs, lows and countless emotions and experiences in between. As I have started to share more of my own cringe-inducing middle school stories with you, my heart feels excitement, empathy and a bit of nervousness about all you will face in coming months and years.

As you know, your Dad and I seriously considered homeschooling this year. It feels like such a monumental time of growth and change that we wanted to spend as much of it as possible with you. In many ways, I think we wanted to delay your entry into the rapids of adolescence a bit longer--to make sure we had made enough deposits, to give you more grounding, to take you on more shared adventures. It was an idea we had nurtured since you were toddlers. Yet, as we prayed and made more concrete preparations God changed our hearts. He made it clear it was His Will for you to remain in your school environment and we are thrilled to see what is in store.

For what feels like at least the 10,000th time since you were born, we've let go of our plans in favor of His. It is with faith and butterflies we send you off tomorrow morning--into the storied awkwardness of 7th grade.  

As you go, I do have a couple of reminders and a promise:

As I've told you many times, this is a stage of life where you & your peers are all just trying to figure some things out. There will be bumps and bruises on the way to beautiful growth--but it is all an important part of the process. Like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis, the struggle is what strengthens your wings for flying. Give grace to yourself and your peers as you all simultaneously and individually work through the process. 

With hormones, changing relationships and the stress of increasing responsibilities remember to keep your perspective. Spend a few minutes every morning reflecting on who God is and how He loves you. Pause to breathe, look around at creation and remember the One who made it all also created you and has a place for you in it. 

Your identity as a beloved Child of God is not to be taken lightly. Don't let the world distract you from that basic notion-- so many of your future decisions will be best made through the lens of that one truth. 

And when things feel overwhelming ask yourself, what will I think about this situation tomorrow, next month, next year? It's funny how that seems to work for me even in middle age. 

Finally, know that your Dad and I adore you. You are each so uniquely designed and we are delighted to watch how God is working in your lives. We commit to continue to pray for you--and love it when you tell us specific things to cover. We pledge to make home a place of kindness and respect--a safe place to land and be recharged and encouraged even on the hard days. 

As you know well by now, I mess up a lot. I am learning how to parent middle schoolers even as you are learning how to be one. So, let's also remember to give each other the benefit of the doubt, believe the best and apologize quickly. Love covers a multitude of sins. 

Go get 'em, tigers!

-Mom

Love in the Trenches

I have a back-to-school tradition of hibernating...the twitchiness from tasks left undone that plagued the last month of Summer is addressed by manic sorting, organizing and purging. After three weeks and several carloads of garbage bags filled with donations, it finally feels as if I can reengage with the broader world.

 As the dust has begun to settle from Summer to Fall transition, I have been able to spend time in real conversation with a dozen different Mom friends--the kind where we aren't interrupted every couple of minutes by needs for ice cream, bottom wiping or to be an audience for the latest tumbling or diving board trick. The kind of conversations where we can have unbroken eye contact that sees, hears and feels enough to share what is really going on.

In doing so my heart has been moved by the heaviness that so many in my community carry. As most of my Mom friends are now parenting kids over the age of 12, I have a new understanding of the addage "little people, little problems...big people, big problems."

A friend and I were discussing the difference in our parenting topics now versus 8-10 years ago when she asked if I remembered the her son's trouble in pre-K. "My greatest parenting woe was how to effectively discipline him for sliding into circle time everyday. We had teacher conferences about his baseball slides!"

We laughed and admitted it had appropriately mattered then. It was an entrance into the world of teaching self control and respect for authority. Those same issues are relevant today--they just look so much different.

The coffees, walks, small group conversations, lunches and phone calls I have shared with tween and teen Mamas this month have covered the gamut:
- diagnoses of anxiety and depression and gut wrenching choices about the trade offs of medicating these issues
- behavioral disorders
- teenage dating and sex
- divorce, remarriage, blending kids
- sexting
- bullying and being left out
- hormonal teens that are being truly hurtful to their family
- experimenting with different identities and being heartbroken in the process

These aren't other people's kids. These are young adults whose baptisms I have attended and made pledges to love and help rear. They are the offspring of friends whose marriages I stood up in and committed to support. These are the struggles of families like mine raising people in the world I live in.

It makes my heart ache to hear the painful things so many of my friends are walking through. And this is just in the parenting realm! Add on the additional pressures of marriage, work, finances, extended family, health concerns and it could easily be a recipe for despair.

As a woman in my Bible Study announced succinctly last week: "It is hard to be human."

THIS IS WHY we must stay plugged into our friendships and our faith. This world is broken, but we are not alone.

We must each tap into the truth God has given us in His Word that His Grace is sufficient. His power is made perfect in weakness. He will not leave or forsake us. We need to engage in loving community that reminds each other of these truths when we are tired.

A wise friend told me that regret haunts us with "if only" and anxiety gets us stuck with "what if?"
I believe peace in the Lord asks "what now?"

Foster parenting has taught me much about loving where you are with whatever time you have--no guarantees for tomorrow, but responsibility for what is in front of you now.

“The only opportunity you will ever have to live by faith is in the circumstances you are provided this very day." Eugene Peterson

You are a parent, but the outcome is not all on you.
Your job is to show up faithfully and ask God to answer: "What does love require of me?"
Not tomorrow, not next week, but NOW--in this situation with what I know and what I have, what does LOVE require of me here?
Be present and teachable, one step at a time.
Do the next right thing.
Fueled not by the exhaustible resource of ourselves, but filled by the love of the Lord and the fruit of the Spirit.

I firmly believe God will meet you there, because He is doing it for me with my fosters and my biological children.

It is not a promise of the avoidance of pain, but there IS freedom here.

The Ticking Clock

Yesterday my trio started middle school. By all accounts it was a great day. We love our school. I had peace in my heart that they were in a safe place with people who love and know them and are invested in their development.

I teared up just a little as I drove out of carline--middle school parents don't walk students in or linger, I was told. (Thankfully, I took our traditional photos at home beforehand.)

As I returned to my very quiet home and an unrushed second cup of coffee I heard the ticking of a clock. I had not been aware of it this Summer--despite the fact that the sound is always there. The clock is not new, neither is the passage of time, but it cannot always be heard amidst the 'life sounds' of a busy household.

I think this is why quiet is so important and simultaneously startling. It allows the waves of thoughts kept at bay to rush in. When we slow down and pay attention we notice the inches grown, the size of the shoes at the base of the stairs, the new wrinkles on our faces and the ticking of time.

While none of us are guaranteed tomorrow, a basic tenet of 'responsible' parenting is beginning with the end in mind.  One of the hardest parts of foster parenting has been the unknown length of stay. How long do we have to invest in these children?

It has been a growing, stretching, challenging experience to parent one day/week/month at a time. I've realized that this is one of the great sanctifying aspects of this experience for me--learning to walk in faithful obedience to the task at hand, allowing God to be master of the outcome. Although the practical lesson has been with my foster children, it has significantly shaped the way I now view parenting my biological offspring as well.

As I was pondering all this yesterday I realized my trio has seven school years left at home. Our latest timetable with our foster children indicates we likely have about seven more weeks with them before they move on to their permanent home.

The girls are set to begin weekly overnight visits to their home in a few days. They are excited and my family feels peace that it is time. But, honestly, it feels a bit like a divorce. The girls' ties to us have to begin loosening to make room for other bonding. Emotions are unpredictable and all over the place.

My heart is just beginning to grasp that after 17 months of parenting Bug and 10 months with little GiGi they will no longer call me Mom. But, the work here is not yet done. God, in His sovereignty, still has these girls in this home for a few more weeks--my trio, God willing, for seven more years--and I am praying for the strength to be faithful until the end.

When I stop and ponder how little time I have left, there is a temptation to panic. So many lessons remain. How much more can I cram in the allotted time? As performance anxiety looms, I can't escape that both of my parenting-in-my-home 'finish lines' were sevens. Seven, after all, is a symbolic number used throughout the Bible.

As I studied about the Biblical significance this morning I couldn't help but smile. "Seven signifies a completion of some kind: a divine mandate is fulfilled." None of our earthly timelines panic our Father--and I am not called to complete anybody. I am called to be faithful and leave the results up to Him.

This is just a chapter...but what a deep, significant, life altering one it has been for us all. I am weary, but standing on His promises, trusting Him to breathe fresh wind in my sails to finish strong.

"He who began a good work...will be faithful to complete it.." Philippians 1:6

"He will sustain you to the end..." I Corinthians 1:8a

Amen.

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.

Hope versus Fear

It was not until recently that I realized I am indeed a fearful parent. It was easy to deny because I am not your 'traditional' neurotic Mama who frets over safety. My kids climb trees. I allow them to fail and learn from natural consequences. We embrace adventure. We discuss tough topics. We sometimes eat unwashed fruit. We own a trampoline.

As my children have aged (and grown in number) I have felt led to really examine my heart regarding discipline. I cannot fight every battle or die on every hill without going insane or completely alienating my children. Walking through the process of deciding what to emphasize and what to let go has shed some light on my own heart condition.

At the risk of revealing too much of my crazy I will confess that a few years ago I literally sobbed on the floor of a child's room late one night begging God to tame his temper so as to spare him from a jail sentence one day. In my fear, I skipped straight from an exhausted and angry little boy to his future as an incarcerated felon over one particularly passionate bedtime meltdown. In hindsight I know this was extreme, but lesser versions of this pollute my good parenting sense.

I realized the issues that most pushed my buttons directly correlated with my fears about/for that child's future.

Last week I really felt the Lord impress upon my heart to parent from what I HOPE for my children, rather than what I FEAR. It sounds hokey and perhaps a bit impractical, I know. I mean, we must coach our children and help them shore up their weaknesses. It is our role to raise up responsible adults that can function in the world. But, honestly, for me this change in how I consider my response in discipline has been huge. I feel better. Less stressed, more positive and what a difference it has made in the attitude of my most challenging children!

As my passionate son responded to me with a bit too much fire in his belly Monday I was able to exhale my fear and inhale some hope. I sat him down and quietly said, "The Lord has wired you to be a lion of a man. I can't wait to see which direction he points your passion and leadership. But, honey, I don't want you to trip yourself up with this temper. I love you. I'm on your team. You've really got to watch out for this." I looked him in the eye and I meant it.

I couldn't believe it when instead of making excuses and casting blame, he exhaled and a genuine smile crossed his face. It was apparent he liked the picture HOPE painted. It was a far better motivator than fear. And it was miraculous.

I am new at this approach and have no doubt I will continue to stumble through--but I am liking the results so far and thought I'd pass this along to anyone else who can identify.

“Every decision we make today will be driven by fear or love. Who we toss the keys to determines a lot about the destination.” –Bob Goff

Today I choose faith that God is writing my children's stories, hope that it is far better than what I could write and love because it covers a multitude of fearful Mama sin.

On Making Plans

"If you want to make God laugh, tell Him about your plans." Woody Allen

I have spent the last two decades striving to build a drama free, protected life. My husband and I have a family mission statement, a financial plan, all matters of insurance and an estate plan. Our kids have educational savings plans. We are constantly dreaming of travel plans, ministry plans, retirement plans.

This makes it especially ironic that here in our 40s we are realizing how very little we know of what the future may bring. Since the arrival of two little foster daughters 105 days ago, our desire to plan is stymied. We do not know how long they will be here or where they will go next. We don't know if we will have them for the holidays or whether to include them in early Spring travel plans.  I can't even pretend to know how this whole thing is going to end. I don't even have enough information to speculate at this point.

I have been forced to live life on much more of a day-to-day basis. While I would like to know if I should be building their Christmas lists, with all the moods we now have in our home, most days I just want to make it through homework time with limited tears. We live at the bottom of a bureaucratic funnel and a complex social situation that doesn't fit neatly into our responsible, mapped out life...and, frankly, their little hearts trump our need to 'plan.'

Never have the words of Psalm 27:1 resonated more: "Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring."

Despite framed art in my home that reminds me to "live simply," life has gotten undeniably complicated. Not just because of our little girls...but because we are middle aged and this world is broken. Sin, illness, complex relationships...I look around and laugh that I ever thought much of anything fit into neat little packages.

And a funny thing has happened...rather than finding the absolute uncertainty frightening or frustrating, I have crested the dreaded waterfall of lack of control and found myself plunging into the cool rushing waters of this unpredictable life story feeling remarkably free.

The more complicated life has become, the simpler it seems. Pretending I have much control seems absurd. In letting go and letting God, I am realizing the words, "I don't know" are not only true but liberating.

I wish I could claim maturity, but it was really humility and weakness that led me to this place. It took the overwhelm of five children and the foster care system to shine an undeniable light on what has always been true: None of us really know what tomorrow will bring or understand the ways in which our Lord works out his plans in this world.

I am no longer a child trying to prove to the world how much I know. I am a middle aged woman who has lived long enough to realize how little I really know/control AND that it is OK.

I have long equated wisdom with planning--and I do feel that we are wise to steward well what we have been entrusted. But I pray that we also leave plenty of room for faith that there is One who is writing our stories--for they are generally full of twists and blind turns.

We have to stop listening to the deceptive voice of fear and instead tune into the still small voice that urges us to trust. We must loosen our grip on the reigns of the comfortable safe life and allow our God to take us on a ride we couldn't even imagine for ourselves. We will no doubt be breathless in many places along the way...sometimes from exhaustion and other times from awe and wonder...

The reality is that we are all buckled in on this roller coaster of life. We can't steer it, but we do have a choice in how we ride...terrified or full of wonder. I pray the Lord will make me the girl on the roller coaster with my hands in the air, shouting in exhilaration rather than the terrified one clutching the bar with eyes clenched shut. The loop de loops are coming either way.

Together & Alone

Although yesterday was my little girls' 12th day of school, it was the first day of 5th grade for my trio. We were up by 6:10 and working our way through the two-schools-in-separate-parts-of-town-but-with-same-start-time routine. I made major headway on my To Do list--including some quiet time to read and write. I didn't quite get to my grand plans for meal planning, exercise, reorganization and Bible Study...but it is only Tuesday :)

I confess that I find this season of raising tweens to be a lonely part of motherhood. Between my three we've ditched braces and glasses, gotten a first zit, are dealing with changing bodies, ear piercings, razors, insecurities and mood swings. My children are growing into young adults, and because of my desire to honor and protect them, I don't feel free to talk about it at all.

Honoring budding little people's sense of privacy and self is important. I don't want to embarrass anybody or hear/share TMI...but I do want to get all the other 5th grade Moms in a room and say, "Hey, you are NOT alone!" I considered having a back to school gathering just for other Moms in these Middle Years, so I could look people in the eye and remind them we are in this together, but even getting on everyone's calendar seemed impossible.

We are not the same women who sat on playground benches together 7-8 years ago grateful for any adult conversation. In those days, play dates were for Mommies. We discussed potty training, reflux, tantrums, worrisome personality traits and preschool choices. No subject seemed off limits. We were tired, but motivated and fully engulfed in our motherhood roles.

Time has changed us. As our children have grown and stretched their wings, so have we. I look across the group I started out with and barely recognize who we were. There have been so many life altering headlines: divorce, pursuit of advanced degrees, remarriage, additional children, return to the workplace, cancer, aging parents, addictions, troubled children... There are a lot more concerns on our plates now than whether or not to try baby sign language.

I find evidence of how we have drifted apart and individualized even in the simple things: We drop off now instead of walking in...carline, birthday parties, sports practices, even church. It comes naturally as our children grow more independent.

It is normal and healthy that we no longer hover on the fringes of the kids' activities. But, honestly, I miss the camaraderie. In its absence I fear competition creeps in. I confess that I find myself defaulting to the somewhat isolated place of "dropping and running." I have noticed the lonelier or more insecure I feel, the more likely I am to stay in my Suburban reading with the windows rolled up or hunker down at home and unplug from engaging with my community. Where our mutual overwhelm with early motherhood once drew us together, our coping strategies and circumstances now seem to have built walls that keep us apart.

I've been rolling all of this around in my brain this week--feeling somewhat insecure myself about the return to school and mom circles where I can't always find my fit. Revelling in the freetime school schedules now allow, I have indulged in a newfound interest of reading books I somehow missed as a child. This morning, in an old classic, a quote struck me that seemed to offer perspective:

“You see, though we travel together, we travel alone."  Madeleine L'Engle, A Wrinkle in Time

Ahh, there it is. Though we travel together, we travel alone... In this marathon of motherhood and life, even when we have the same goals we find ourselves with a different pace (often dictated by the other hearts in our home) and taking alternate paths based on gifts, challenges and circumstances.

Even those of us who are travelling together with the commonality of mothering in these middle years also find ourselves travelling alone because we each have a unique race to run. 

I am not a runner, but I have participated in a half dozen 5ks through the years. In doing so I have found there are different types of racers: There are those who don headphones, sunglasses and seem to be in their own space oblivious to the world and there are others who are so busy socializing as they walk that you wonder if they will ever make it to the finish line at all. Between those two extremes are a whole host of others who are running their race and encouraging others as they go... a little eye contact, maybe a little conversation, head nods of acknowledgement, a word or two when they can tell you are ready to quit... This is the kind of participant I pray to be.

We each have to answer to our Maker when we cross the finish line. God assigned our roles and our courses. I want to do well with the little hearts I have been entrusted while honoring my covenant to my husband. (That's a lot of hearts to hold on this race!) But I also pray I will be brave enough to engage the other runners around me--even when I am winded and it may seem easier to shut out the world--to take the focus off myself, suck up my insecurity and step out of the comfort zone to spur others on.

The Christian life is so full of both/ands: Grace and truth. In but not of. Salt and light. Truth in love. I think it is this balance of give and take...loving and allowing ourselves to be loved...that we will find community the way God intended and the great comfort that we travel both together and alone.

The Myth of Best Mom Ever

This morning I enjoyed the sweet tradition of Muffins for Moms at school with my children.

After breakfast, all the mothers took a seat in the Commons area as students performed a simple and cute song honoring their Moms. I wish I had a copy of the lyrics, but there was really nothing Earth shattering about them...which turned out to be what I appreciated most.

The students wore ear-to-ear grins as they sang to a room full of their biggest fans about the very ordinary things Moms do from waking them up to tucking them in--and lots of menial tasks in between. I grinned through my tears because those sweet children sang with a gusto that illustrated their individual beliefs that THEIR Mom really was the best.  The BEST at packing their lunch, the BEST at tucking them in, the BEST at hugging them when they cry. What a reminder that I am not trying to be better than other Mamas, I am just trying to do my best with my little flock.

After the performance, the children served as hosts and hostesses in their classroom and presented us with gifts. The art was fun, but the fill in the blank pages are always my favorite. Even as my children age, I revel in the gift of their words. While they no longer think I am 16 years old and 18 feet tall like they did in preschool, I still couldn't help but chuckle at some of their responses.

My three same aged kids, growing up with the same Mama in the same season of life deemed me "great," "awesome" and "cool" for entirely different reasons.

R: "She is nice, loving and outgoing. She is always there for me and never, ever stops loving me. I love when she plays with me. She teaches me to finish the drill, work hard and never give up." (He values presence and active investment in his life and growth.)

P: "She always spends time with us. She is never mean to us. We love when she takes us places. She is kind, loving, caring and funny. The most important lesson she has taught us to keep a napkin in our laps." (This sensitive and family oriented kiddo even crossed through every reference to "me" and made it "us." And you better believe he is working hard on table manners. Ha!)

K: "My Mom is so crazy and fun. She can really creep people out with her British accent. She loves to watch me play soccer. She makes awesome pasta. Her job is being a Mama. She has taught me to clean my room and never be mean." (So, she used the word crazy twice, but she values excitement, fun and adventure. She is proud when I am silly and engage with her friends.)

What a reminder that each little heart and life values different things and therefore has a different formula for feeling loved. Yet, God entrusted all three to little old me. Some days I feel pretty good at it and other days I feel like a miserable failure.

I think this is what makes Mother's Day complicated.  A day that celebrates the beauty, sacrifice and blessing of motherhood can make me feel like a poser. I know I am not the "best" or the "greatest" Mom in the world as Hallmark would like to make me believe. I often don't feel like serving or giving one more time--I just want to eat my french fries and not share. Some afternoons I want to let dishes and laundry pile up while I sit in the sun and veg out with a mindless ipad app. Some nights I am annoyed when people are up past bedtime and I just want to sip hot tea and read alone. I'm snappy when I should be patient.

Don't even get me started at all the super Mom checklist things I am not doing: growing my own food, buying only organics, mastery of natural oils, yoga, gluten free, screen free, homeschool, nightly family devotions... I am well aware of my reality, my hopes and my inadequacies, so when we start throwing around "greatest" and "best" the words ring hollow.

Somewhere along the way being grateful for Moms turned into announcing that every Mom is the greatest. I'm calling baloney. Motherhood was never intended to be a competition. If we fall for that trap it will so distract us from our primary mission that we will fail the very ones we were assigned to love. 

Frankly, I don't want to be the best or greatest. I just want to love well. I want to be seen and known by my people. I want to feel loved and appreciated in return. Keep your trophies and give me a good solid hug.

Being an effective Mom is a moving target that begins and ends with relationship--relationships that fill us up (the Lord, spouses, friends, small groups) so that we can pour back out in our families and our communities. Our assignment is to know and love the little ones God has entrusted to our care and do our "best" to love them in a way that points them to the "greatest" love of God. That is enough because He is enough.

So, Mama, you keep doing you while looking to Him -- because that version of you was handpicked as the greatest/best choice for each one of the hearts He entrusted to your care. 

Happy Mother's Day!

When a "Great Day" Isn't Enough

On a recent morning drive to school I asked the children what I could pray for them that day. I wish I could say this is a daily practice, but I do like to ask every once in a while to gauge their heart attitude and remind them that even when they are away they are on my mind/heart. Because they are typically developing tweens I got three versions of "I dunno. Nothing really."

Grasping at another way to ask the question I said, "Well, what if God were in our car this morning. What would you ask him?"

Not missing a beat P replied, "How did YOU get in here?"

After a chorus of giggles I tried again. "Seriously, if God were in our car. What do you think He would hope for you today? What would He say?"

K replied perkily, "He'd tell us He hoped we had a great day."

The overthinker in me gulped. Is this what I am teaching my children? That God's desire for them is just a great day? Not that there is anything wrong with that, of course, but, wow, there is SO MUCH MORE God wants for their lives and mine. Frankly, some of it doesn't mean every day will be "great."

Yes, I overanalyze. Welcome to my exhausting brain. Realizing my audience is not quite finished with 4th grade, I toned down my internal dialogue.

"I think He would say that and more. I think He would say He hoped you had a day of remembering He was with you, listening for Him in your heart, being grateful and looking for opportunities to love people."

As I drove away I couldn't help but think about the types of prayers I pray with my children and the message they send. We bless our food. We pray at the start and end of many days. We pray when we are struggling with something...but truth be told the 'script' of those prayers is still pretty simple. "Thank you for this...help us with that."

I want our relationships with Him to be real not rote.

I thought about one of my favorite parenting truths: Children are far more influenced by what is CAUGHT than what is TAUGHT. What are they catching from my prayers? A sweet God who bids them off to school with a sing-songy "have a great day?" How is a 'great day' even defined? Pleasant? Easy? Worry free?

My children are growing in body, mind, emotion...I want to make sure there are opportunities for their faith to be growing too. The point for me was that if I want my children to trust a mighty, big, powerful God I ought to step it up a notch in terms of the conversations we are having with Him through prayer. My children aren't preschoolers anymore and my prayers shouldn't be either. So, we are easing out of the shallow end in our prayers. Asking Him for bigger things. Risking more, requiring more faith.

I am writing this down for accountability to myself. God, please help my children see you as so much bigger than a sweet Grandpa whose only desire for my children is a pleasant, worry-free day. That is a great foundation--a nice place to start--but spur us on, Lord, to so much more.

The Danger of Christmas Expectations

Yesterday I started crying in the check out line at Walmart.

These were not the sweet tears of observing a tender moment. 

They were not tears of heartbreak from witnessing a person in need. 

They were not wistful tears of remembrance from precious memories of Christmas past. 

They were not heartbroken tears over the lives of the childrens' home residents I was on an errand to serve. 

No, these were the frustrated tears of a person who was busy with 'good' things and frustrated with unmet expectations of other people. So many things in this world are worthy of  my tears, but poor service and a packed schedule trumped them all. Yikes.

I left margin in my Christmastime and 'other people' were eating it up. My joy was temporarily replaced by bitterness. The list in my heart of blessings for which to be grateful got eclipsed by a FAR SHORTER list of the things that were not going my way.

Because I am a do-er, learning how to also be a breather-er, notice-er, sit at the feet-er, I am always drawn back to the story of Mary & Martha welcoming Jesus to their home. Maybe it is because I so identify with Martha that I tend to be an apologist for her...but the reality is that she just had a moment that Jesus addressed and we get to dissect.

Martha was a hard working, good hearted, doer of a woman who got distracted. Even as Jesus spoke to her about her attitude, it wasn't the work that got him...it was her focus. She was "worried and upset" having a pity party, casting blame and missing the point.

Like me at WalMart (and truth be told, a few hours later with my children), she lost her perspective. I had great plans for a service project with my kiddos after school and instead of mature-for-their-years cherubs, they acted like wild ten year olds who had just been dismissed for Christmas Break. Real life crashed into my Norman Rockwell ideals. I was undone not so much because of their behavior but because of the perfection I had hoped for. In my quest to make a moment, I instead made my people miserable. 

Thankfully, His mercies are new every morning and today is a brand new day. I have a chance to choose joy today--to exhale and refocus when frustrating situations occur. I will not punish people (in retail or in my family) for not meeting expectations that in most cases they never signed up for. 

My children are out for break. We are BUZZING with energy and anticipation. And I am teetering with a choice to make between stress and peace. I want to chose joy instead of frustration.

Wonder instead of expectation. I can't 'manage' the magic and joy of children. I have to learn to breathe and enjoy.

Lord, please keep my 'plans' realistic,

my patience overflowing,

my list of blessings in the forefront 

and my grievances, worries and upset entrusted to you.

In a noisy world and a chaotic season, keep my heart quiet and focused on love, joy & peace.  

Absent to be Present

My nightly routine for many years was to write once the children were tucked into their beds. In those days bedtime was like a marathon finish line I couldn't wait to cross.

These days my 'big kids' stay up a little later and I lay with them to talk, laugh and just enjoy the silence. I really like these people and the quiet, one-on-one time the nights allow. It often ends this way.

How is this man-child one of my boys?

So this little blog is a bit neglected, but the hearts of those closest to me are not.

I have been absent here to be fully present in my home, and it is well with my soul.

Because I don't want my children to have beautifully bound volumes of the lessons I learned in parenting that required me to miss the days when they just wanted to be together.

I don't want them to one day speak of how I took the role of motherhood seriously... reading, writing, pondering, praying. I want them to know it was THEM I valued.

As a mama of 10 (and a half!) year olds, this often means watching shows I don't particularly care about in order to hold hands with one I do, playing all sorts of games, hearing a lot of long stories or corny jokes I don't always find funny and evenings of just laying close because I know these days are fleeting.

I do a lot of 'coaching' and correcting during the day...carping about wet towels, unbrushed hair, table manners, eye contact with adults, misplaced belongings, homework. I am not particularly smoothe at this motherhood gig, but after 8pm it is all about the snuggles and heart reconnection. The shine of the day has worn off. They are still and lovey. They invite me to connect. I'm in!

I have to remind myself that this time is not unproductive. I am making relationship investments in their hearts and mine. It is about presence not perfection.

So please pardon my absence. This is the season I am in-- and it is good.

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.

Because It Should Be Real for Us Too

Monday morning after dropping my children off for their first day of school, I celebrated by sitting down and lingering over a second cup of coffee. After writing a blog post, I clicked over to get reengaged in US/world events. As much as I profess to not want to live in a bubble, Summer break can become just that for a stay-at-home mother, as time limitations require that most of my news be gathered from 140 characters on twitter. It is restful, precisely because it is not real life.

You can imagine my shock as I started to read about Michael Brown and Ferguson, Missouri. I don't live there. I live in a small town in Georgia. My house is on a street that is 100% white. The country club is literally my back yard, but one street over an aged neighborhood begins that stretches about 20 blocks of 95% African American residents. I drive twelve minutes round trip to school every morning and afternoon, through this neighborhood where foot traffic is the norm. As much as I love a good metaphor, it is not lost on me that I pass dozens people of color watching, waiting on the bus or walking, while driving a white Suburban that cost as much as the average home on these streets.

This is my neighborhood. I wave at some of the regulars and on my return trip home in the morning I sometimes pray for various ones as I pass. I vote at the baptist church that sits right in the center and am privileged to know their amazing pastor. His daughter is one of my dearest friends. I've been blessed to attend a worship service there...a vanilla sprinkle in a chocolate sea of praise. And not one iota of this is an attempt at activism. (Frankly, I have hesitated to even write about this because of fear that my intentions would be questioned or misconstrued.)

But Monday, after reading, watching and thinking I couldn't help but wonder, "Could my town be a Ferguson?" Do my neighbors feel the anger, vulnerability and frustration these protesters feel? I called my friend, T. and told her I wanted to talk about it all when she was ready. I don't want to be ignorant to the challenges my friends and neighbors face.

While we can argue the various disputed issues of the Brown case, one thing is clear:  race issues are complicated, painful and still very real for many of our friends and neighbors. I have watched videos and read heartfelt posts from mothers of boys: both white and black. One of the most profound was a facebook post from a woman named Loris Adams in North Carolina. (I tried to link but can't.) She posted pictures with her son and described how terrified she was to realize her son had taken a shortcut while walking home that night which involved jumping a fence. Her thoughts went immediately to a place I cannot imagine.

"... because there is a target on his chest and I've trained him since birth to NOT invite red dots to train on that target. I'm MAD that I lost it on him, but I'd rather now than at a funeral.

Can you imagine the police response if some of my good neighbors had seen the boys, who were just going home? You can't? Let me help you see this picture - ‪#‎MikeBrown‬ ‪#‎TrayvonMartin‬ ‪#‎OscarGrant‬ ‪#‎JonathanFerrell‬

I would love my friends and colleagues who are not parents of a black child to understand the complexity of everyday life for those of us who are. I have the same concerns about gas prices and paying for a college education as you do, but that's topped by the gnawing fear - "is my boy next?"

EVERYDAY.

That's why I pray. That's why I march. That's why I push. That's why I teach...That's why you'll find me on my knees in my office. That's why I look so sad sometimes.

It's not news for me.
These are my sons.

These are my nephews. 

My brothers.
My friends.

This is real..."  -Loris N. Adams, via facebook

It is hard for me to imagine this reality. I thought of my children's friends, some of whom happen to have dark skin, the sons of my friends and the neighborhood children I see at the bus stop each day and I realized in its own way, this is real for me too. I gulped to realize there is even a landscaped roadblock at the end of my street...erected years ago to divide the neighborhoods.

I want to be more about bridges than barriers. In the same way we seek to understand the unique challenges faced by single parents, those with special needs, impoverished people--I want to be sensitive to the real fears and issues of Moms raising children of color.

Ironically (or not), the post I wrote Monday before tuning into the news was about loving our neighbors---Jesus described it as the second greatest commandment. While I am still sorting out exactly what that means as a Causasian housewife in the deep South, I know that as love so often does it starts with paying attention.

I can't 'fix' Ferguson, but I can be a caring friend and neighbor who prioritizes building bridges and relationships. I can listen. I can care. I can model that for my children.
So can you.

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.

This Mama's Mantra

In my ten years as a Mama, I have read (or skimmed) a lot of books and visited a lot of websites. I've talked with teachers, my husband and other parents hundreds of hours. I've begged God to redeem the holy mess I fear I am making with these precocious children.

Ironically, the more I read, talk, pray and experience the simpler my parenting philosophy becomes:

Pray.

Show Up.

Love.

Repeat.

There is no book or formula that can address each specific circumstance. Even the Bible, so full of Truth doesn't directly speak to many of my in-the-moment issues--but it clearly speaks to my heart through the life of Jesus.

He prayed to stay in tune to the heart of His Father. He showed up for people when they needed Him. He loved with everything He had. Over and over and over again.

This is not just good parenting advice. It seems to work pretty well for marriage, friendships and simply being a good neighbor.

Best of all, the mantra is simple enough even a frazzled Mama can handle it: 

Pray.

Show Up.

Love.

Repeat.