Summer started as it usually does around here now, at somewhat breakneck speeds. It comes swiftly as a camp bus cruising around the corner, rolling in off of a busy May and a pretty stellar June. Exhausting and exhilarating all at the same time, this summer comes in like theme park ride kind of way.
The first few days were pre-set with some activities we didn’t choose, necessarily, but also don’t say no to. We love them, indeed, with all of their sticky sweet summerness. Do you feel this pull sometimes? Like a dripping popsicle, you try to keep up and somehow have more than a little of its juice running down your arm.
But then it’s suddenly a full week since school let out before you can even unpack the kids’ backpacks, or sit and breathe, to make any other solid plans, when in fact, you know it’s been A TIME. You know you’ve had A TIME.
Then you have to plan the rest of yours.
I almost said “get to.” But there’s really no privilege here, no presupposed leisure feel to any of this. There’s lots of “should” and a few “could”s and a rather large smattering of “desperately need to”s.
There’s no telling at first either, how much you can really get done-how many projects of your own you can tackle, how many neglected corners of the home you can set right, and how many adventures you can possibly have together, now that you’re all “home”.
Don’t forget those dreams of lazily reading a book under a tree, and swimming lessons, and those friends you thought you might see during this endless stretch of time and imagination.
But it’s not endless. It’s roughly eight weeks, and give or take a few, it also means approximately a million dishes, seven thousand meals and fifteen hundred thousand loads of laundry. Ha! Not really, but it can feel like it.
Look, I’m not trying to complain, I’m really not. It’s just that sometimes when you have “all the time” you begin to think that you should do “all the things” and that’s just not really true.
That’s all this thing is really, a race against time, and you want so much for it to slow down so you can savor it. For even and when the seasons change, there’s no telling if things will in fact be any different for you than they were in the past, unless you do something different
All I knew as this season changed into a new one, was this one phrase that came to me. “Before screens, make something, play something, read something, pray something.”
Not unsurprisingly, I had felt the pull to set down my own habit of social media, which had indeed grown into a nasty HABIT of less-than-worthy or admirable proportions.
Neither time nor resources are infinite. So we must decide differently, or it’ll all be the same. That’s a hard thing to do, but so necessary. We must choose how to wisely spend these precious commodities-our time and attention- or whittle them all away, we most certainly will.
So we (or I rather) started summer with only this thought. Of all we would set down, those habits and defaults that would only lead us to more of the same frustrations. Now instead, we began to open up to more good ones, to more space, and hopefully, to more ability to feel alive, and with more awareness to be grateful.
Thing is, I feel called to write, to share, all the things. But just because it’s “meant for me” doesn’t mean that right now it’s “for me”. I felt the tug for a while but didn’t want to. It usually feels life-giving to me to be able to share what God has put on my heart. But it had begun to feel like there were diminishing returns, and even though I plugged away (I feel that I’m here to serve, not be served!), I finally knew in my heart that God was pulling me away for a season. This was a season to be together with family, more focused and less on any screens. This was not just some vague idea for me, it was a gentle invitation from God, to set it down for a while. Knowing that at some point He’d probably have me pick it back up, with greater grace and to greater impact too. All because I was, willing to lay it down.
The other day as we were walking out to the car. I watched my son struggle with some packages that I had asked him to help me carry. It was just a few small, unbreakable packages, just his size. My hands were absolutely full (momlife!) and I realized that his were blessedly free. So I gave him some of the load to share. Teamwork is the dreamwork, isn’t it?
(As a side note, but not really a side note, we are now at that age where we can ask our kids to help in small and meaningful ways, as we should. They can, indeed, help us. It’s really not a right or a privilege of parenthood, it’s our responsibility- to help teach them, well, responsibility.)
But as I watched him struggle, he was becoming exceedingly frustrated. He was wondering how he could in fact open the car door whilst holding both these two packages and the small precious item he had already been holding before I gave them to him. He was, however, missing something.
The very simple knowledge and understanding yet maybe, that he could set them down for a minute, while still being in obedience, in order to open the door. And not only that, I said to him, repeatedly, “just put them down for a minute so you can open the door. You can do it! It’s okay!”
And I saw in that moment, that this is me.
Sometimes and, sometimes, repeatedly, I have refused to see the simple act of setting it down for a minute is not actually disobedience. It’s taking a break just to go forward. I think I must actually carry it- the thing that God has given to me to carry or accomplish- at every moment, or else I’m not really carrying it at all.
Motherhood. Logistics. Business. Career. Family obligations. They aren’t all meant to be carried by you alone at all times. It’s okay to set something down for a minute, just to manage, to open the door, to continue the mission.
Is this you too? You think that you need to hold all the things for all the moments and then you wonder why you can’t get anything done. Maybe you, like me, need to step back for a minute, see how ridiculous this is, how impossible.
We are, sons or daughters, trying to hold all of the things by ourselves, instead of letting ourselves have the courage to let go of something for a minute.
I think that’s why the situation with my son struck me so hard. Because not only am I that child sometimes too, but I also know from watching and observing that frustration and complaining are never the answers.
By refusing to set down the struggles, refusing to let go of overwhelm, we are refusing to choose being grateful instead of frustrated. It’s an actual choice, and the lie that we can tell ourselves when we’re in the situation is that feels too heavy.
We become frustrated that we can’t do it exactly as we’ve been trying because we fail to see that we’ve already been invited to do it differently.
Doing something different requires you to actually *do something different*, not just transfer the same you and your (very) tired ways into, and through, the next open door.
Maybe God just wants us to lay it down for a minute, to have a breather, have a new season, walk through that open the door, and then pick it back up to cross though. But if we refuse to listen and set some things down, we will always have these same frustrations, the exact same spirit, and thereby, the exact same outcomes.
I have, felt more grateful. I have been writing less and living more. We have had some grand adventure days and some wise, carefree or organizing days. We have chased sunsets and summer fun, everything in between. But not like I tend to do, and not in an overwhelmed , harried way, fearing all that choosing and how one thing leads to another. (Like how adventure leads to more laundry, and more laundry leads to less adventure, etc etc, on and on in continuum.) I know that some of the changes have happened by taking some of the stress that’s caused by screens away, even if not fully, and even if it was not excessive to begin with (at least for the kids.). It was a subtle but important shift for us.
If you feel overwhelmed or burnt out right now, ask yourself, what can you really set down? It doesn’t have to be big, and it’s a lie that might come up to say you can’t set anything down. There’s always some life-giving and honoring way that you could set some things aside in order to care more about what matters most.
Try it. See how it feels.
Maybe it’s worry, or complaining, or overwhelm.
Maybe it’s social media, or half of your to-do list.
Maybe it’s some supposed plans that you made or an unrealistic expectation or that other round of golf or lessons or painting class.
Maybe it’s taking a step back for a season, just to reset, and try again when you’re ready to. Maybe it is, “summer break” after all?
It also doesn’t mean that what you set down right now means you don’t have to carry it at all. It just means that you don’t have to carry it *right now*.
Like my son was struggling at the door, so was I a bit standing at the door of summer. But now, I have heard His voice, inviting me to what’s better.
I feel more space, and it’s not because I hired a laundress or a cleaning lady or anything like that. I still have the same, potentially overwhelming amount of “things” to do without feeling so overwhelmed. Because of one simple shift, one small thing to let go of, I have not drowned in the regular way with the usual thing. I have stayed more afloat. Which has opened us up, strangely, to so much more goodness, too. (I have even gotten ahead in a few small corners!)
I have chosen to pause and see the opportunity instead of the obligation. To see the beauty of all that God has handed to me, instead of feeling the burden of trying to hold it all together. Because I don’t. He does. He has handed me a few precious packages, but I don’t need to carry everything simultaneously, all the time, not the full load.
I mean, summer has always been kinda amazing, and this one is no exception. But, while shutting the door to struggle, we have opened it up to even more efficiency and calm. I realized (again) that complaining about something is not fixing it, it’s only adding to it. Yet, there’s always *something* that can be done better, just by starting with one, or in one small way. I’ve opened myself up to doing better just by, well, choosing better.
Not perfection, but lack thereof and contentment in what really is good already.
I can and only must do my best on any given day, and nothing more.
I can leave the rest for later, for another day.
And I can set aside the bad stuff, like guilt and shame, which are not meant for me, more permanently.
He gives only GOOD gifts, and so, I will carry them well. I will rest when I need to, I will walk through every open door, and with gratitude and not with overwhelm.
It’s His heart for me, after all, and for you too.
Sometimes it’s a bucket list. Sometimes it’s a chore list. This summer, for us, it’s a checklist.
We woke up to the first day of summer break last week and after all the goodness that the end of the school year brought, it was a welcomed break. However, moments into that glorious reprieve, almost immediately upon waking and realizing what opportunity lay before them, my kids asked for a show.
As much as I like a good soft morning wake up and cuddle, while they can relax and I can continue to write, the thought of spending each morning doing that first just didn’t sit quite right with me. Trust me, I love be cozy in the morning, too . But I couldn’t quite stomach the thought of that being our daily, morning go-to. It makes it harder yo get started sometimes and I wanted less hoops to jump over , especially if they might end up making things harder in the long run (as screens tend to do.)
So before I even had time to think about it, a few simple ideas and a phrase flew out of my mouth, and thus became our mantra for summer.
Before screens, first take some time to make something, time to play something, read something, and pray something.
Now I’m not going to lie. I’m not this smart, so I think it was a God idea. And I have to admit, it was a very good one. Quickly we are seeing the benefits.
How do we make it work? Well first of all, I’m not going to, at any point, “time” any of this. It’s not supposed to be rigid or strict. This is about creating space, not creating stress.
As far as the reading goes, they will be tracking minutes for a library fun challenge. They can use this morning time to add to those minutes, but there’s no part of this morning routine that requires you to hit a certain mark. It’s more about cracking open a book as a habit and a default rather than a screen. They can read a chapter, or a paragraph, together or alone, out loud or in their own head. The point isn’t about the quantity, the point is to start with some quality.
As for praying, I don’t care how much they pray, or where. I don’t need to hear their prayers (though sometimes I’ll ask out of curiosity, as a touchpoint, a part of a conversation.) But it’s not about me judging them or them even judging themselves. It’s just about starting the habit of taking time to personally talk to God. Besides, what on earth is better than that?? (Answer in our house: nothing!)
The idea of “play something” and “make something” are closely related, though not exactly the same. Playing could be playing a board game together, playing with Legos or dolls by themself, playing the piano, or playing a game of make-believe. As a side note, my kids have developed an intricate, ongoing series of make-believe and I love to listen in and hear how and what they come up with. They refer to it as “the game we play every morning”, though “many mornings” is most accurate. It makes my momma heart swell with joy.
“Make something” could be building a ship or a town out of blocks or Legos (see the overlap), coloring a picture, baking, writing a letter, casting a play. Really anything that’s creative. Honestly, sometimes I’ll give them a pass on either “make” or “play”, depending on the day, how motivated or creative they are. They are both open to interpretation, and while doing both is highly encouraged before moving on with their day, doing at least one is not optional. Doing the other two- pray and read- are definitely not optional either.
The thing is, they love if now as much as we do!
It has been such a life-giving experience, for both kids and grown ups alike. As you can imagine, they’ve started playing together more. It’s made it easier to get over the morning slumps and to get moving in a positive, thoughtful, and creative way in our day, because we already stated it in that way.
This really could work for kids of all ages, even including teenagers. You could add physical exercise or fresh air if you wanted, too. Though for us it’s a given, so we didn’t need to add it to the list. This summer checklist is supposed to act like a springboard for us eventually going outside.
This is not something that I choose to “police” as much as guard and encourage, and that works for everyone. Perfection is not the goal. A healthy, life-giving habit for body soul and spirit is the aim.
Once you create this rhythm in your home too, you’ll see how wonderful, healthy, and worth it is. When a habit is created, it’s so much easier to enjoy the benefits of it too.
Happy summer, friends!
Use it well, because it alllll matters, so much! ☀️🙌🏻
I was just going through my emails and saw “Ina Garten’s Thanksgiving tips.”
(It felt a little early to me. 🤷🏼♀️)
Then I saw an important email that I missed from about a week ago.
(That’s being generous)
Right before this I read from a kids perspective how much their mom says “in a minute” or doesn’t do what they’re asking. Many of the situations sited that they were on their phones.
Honestly it makes you feel like crud to hear. You know some kids have it bad. You know you have it no worse, but also sometimes probably not much better.
I think many of us know that we go, trigger finger to the phone, much too fast.
And still we miss things. Important emails, special requests, and deadlines. Projects go on, and we try to keep up, trying to play catch up. Everything happens on these phones.
Calendars, reading, connection, creating.
Maybe you’re like me. You don’t watch tv or listen to the radio. Don’t often enough crack open a book. But you can write one while on this phone. You can read one, too, or an article, or a thought provoking post. I was the kid who read the cereal box, front to back and sideways, including the nutrition facts and ingredients. (Lord I didn’t even know what horrors I was reading or consuming!)
I get up now, way before my kids so I can do many of these things. And still throughout the day, I go to it, that box of wonders, that phone-good or bad, happy or sad. It’s like a little dopamine box, a magic 8 ball, and sometimes I can’t stop picking it up.
(That’s really honest.)
There’s also this.
There’s so much I could be doing. So much that I’m behind on. And sometimes, the phone is the easiest “while I’m with you” thing to do. I’ll fold laundry or do dishes, too, sure. But while I’m with you and you’re playing barbies or crafting, sometimes something in a way that I can’t quite participate, I need something else to do while I’m there. My brain is active. It’s hard to sit still. Do nothing. I mean I could go bury my head in some closet and clean it out or mop the floor or make a dish. I can and I do all of that sometimes too. You just want me near you though. But too much sitting around like that feels like….
a pumpkin, rotting slowly, spilling out it seeds and goo from the inside, out onto the ground.
(I never watched that movie yet, Inside Out, by the way, but I heard that’s good.)
I was reminded again today of the miles I can’t run right now. But when we got home from an outing, earlier than expected, I got out for a bike ride. It was beautiful. I hated leaving my family and they’d prefer to have me there cracking open a pumpkin actually, as it were. My sons request to carve one.
He said “yesterday you said you’d do it!”
And I did actually. We had just come home from a different adventure, an outing that required my full attention. Phone tucked away, except for pictures. Fun was had, and hours later we were back and my son wanted to immediately crack that pumpkin open.
He came up and caught me in the middle of reading an interesting article. I don’t even remember what it was but do I have to?
Do I have to justify the validity of my five minutes of down time as a mom? My attention is scattered and high demand but sometimes can’t I just be? Moms handle requests all day long for things. Moms, selflessly do, for most of the time. But I don’t always quite so well or seamlessly or selflessly.
Yesterday had me feeling this and when my son interrupted my brief reading to ask to carve pumpkins with me (one of my least favorite activities), I sighed. Now, typing this, it doesn’t sound so bad, the carving. Sounds cute really. But I find it to be harder than it sounds and it’s not a terrible activity or anything. It’s just not my favorite jam.
Now my son would do it all, if he could. But carving a pumpkin is a big job and it requires adult supervision. And honestly if I was going to do it I would want to have fun with it. Just right that moment, with dinner prep looming and having just set foot in the door from an activity, it didn’t sound so hot.
It all sounds great I’m theory and it’s all fun and games until you get to do it every day, for long periods of time, with lots of other things that require your attention too, like the house, and dinner. Motherhood is indeed a marathon. You can love it and still need to slow down your pace sometimes to accommodate.
Yesterday I did say no. At first to one small request “can you get off your phone and do this thing, mom?” “Honestly, in a minute. Because didn’t we just spend hours doing fun things? I hear a lot of ‘mom can you help me?’s”
To which my son said “isn’t that what moms do?”
Sigh. “Yes, it is. You’re absolutely right. It is. But also isn’t mom allowed to rest sometimes and be a person herself, too? I was trying to read something interesting for a minute.”
Phones are tricky things. Our kids can’t look and know what we’re doing. Not that we have to justify our “down time”. But if they’re asking something and we’re choosing to say a “no” or “in a minute”, it might help them to have some kind of understanding or context. Even if they saw what we were doing, like laundry, they might not appreciate it unless they ran out of clothes and didn’t have something or anything to wear. We all forget what normal life costs us sometimes. It’s a learning curve, indeed. And human nature is innately selfish at times, so it’s a part of my job to remind or explain these truths to them. Lovingly, hopefully. Kindly, I’m sure.
In my daily sense of fulfilling family duty, I training my child to get what they request every time, no matter how small or big? No.
Do I feel bad about that sometimes? Yes.
But do I believe I’m also teaching my children to learn that later isn’t always a bad word. To be resilient while they wait. To know that they’re loved while they wait? Yes yes and yes.
Might the think it feel that mom is being mean or mom is selfish or mom is rude? Maybe. But if I am communicating to them well, maybe not. Hopefully not. They will know that they’re loved and chosen, even if I chose not to do something just as and at the time they asked.
I have to consider at times: Am I trading my ability to rest or pursue something for my child’s ability to never hear no? Is no really such a bad word, really?
So no, we didn’t carve pumpkins that day.
But today we did. And as we did, after my bike ride, and after dinner was already coming (I hadn’t shopped yet this long weekend. See also -#qualitytime. The mom juggle is real folks. There’s no denying how many decision it takes, even more if you’re trying to do it well.)
We listened to teachings about saints.
So many faced senseless or at least tragic deaths. But they carried, too, great life.
As my son and I picked out the pumpkin seeds, to eat later, and my daughter sat coloring and listening beside us, I couldn’t help but see the correlation.
Turns out, the carving wasn’t so bad. It was hard to get it going, but we did it. There was delay, and then muscle required. But my son was a delight. I was (eventually) happy to bear witness and participate. I did accidentally throw out the top and then have to go retrieve it out of the trash I had just taken out. Fail number one. And then those pumpkin seeds that we do carefully pulled out did end up getting knocked over off the counter and went scattering all over the kitchen floor and a little bit on the table. But no one got too upset, and together, we cleaned it up.)
We continue on and I can’t help but think about it.
“Saints lives are kind of like these pumpkins. They’re broken open and the seeds of their faith and love go on, and bring new life to others. This pumpkin’s undoing is a hundred other pumpkins’ chances at life.”
Motherhood is lot like all of this…. Harder than it looks. Messier, trickier, but full of life and potential, and only sometimes, spilled all over across the floor. Not sainthood, perhaps, nor am I even close on most day. (Quite the opposite in fact.) But requiring a lot.
Just like I reminded my kids, though. Sainthood, what made someone to be identified as a saint is not for a few of those who have gone before us. It was because of their beautiful hearts, kind souls, and close connection with the Lord that their lives were marked, spilled out, and brought life.
Sainthood was service of the highest call.
And that my friend, is available for any of us. Not to be canonized. But to be made more beautiful. to become more-beautiful, in expression, from the inside, out. To live a life of service and love, right where we are. That sounds like a tall order. A messy order. But it’s also a lovely one.
Now, don’t get me wrong. It feels very messy. It feels very bad sometimes. But the fact that it’s hard- to do, to choose, to navigate- doesn’t make it less sacred. The fact that it looks messy doesn’t make it less beautiful or valuable. It makes it even potentially more-so. The fact that it cracks you open, and tries you and tests you-even pours you open a bit? That means it is sacred, and holy. And whatever comes out? Well, let it be love.
“Holy and acceptable. A pleasing offering in Your sight God.”
It doesn’t mean that you lay down your life to a point of detriment, to yourself or to them. Telling your kids “not right now” or maybe later, doing other things,shouldn’t be filled with guilt. Not like it can be for me at least. And especially when it’s explained, at least a little.
Even as I’m typing this I’m thinking of all the ways I say yes over and over and all the guilt I feel for the no’s is beginning to dissolve a little. Those moments of frustration, they are temporary. Then again, I have another choice. Then again, I love. Over and over. Not perfectly, but in a messy, spill-your-soul-out-like-pumpkin-seeds, kind of way.
The requests keep coming, Mom, and you don’t have to say yes to every single one. You can be guided by love in a way that means sacrifice for you at times, and guidance at times for them. But you do get to say yes to so many things, most of all love. Or you might miss out on the life giving-ness of it all. The joy of being poured out.
Anyone else with me?
Maybe this should stay among friends.
(But you can share with yours.)
You are not alone in this fabulous, messy, wonderful thing called motherhood 🙏🏻💗.
I’m not sure I can properly put this into words but I’ll give it a try. This week two of “my” “kids” fly the nest. Simultaneously as it works out. Brilliantly, in fact. People have asked me over the years about my “career” choice. The way, when, why, how, where’s of it all. I’d never say much, but would beam at the thought of it all. The questions would often be followed by “what are you going to do NEXT?” Implying that surely this must be temporary. I would always laugh inside, quite sure I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Besides, tell me what isn’t temporary? There are only a few things and job isn’t one of them.
Some things transcend all of this. The truth is, I never “chose” a career. It chose me. I chose a WHY. The where, what, when, and how found me, has found me, over and over. But most of all, the WHO found me. The kids and families I got to help and care for all these years. All whom I truly cared about, they found me. While the world might have thought my job unimpressive from the outside, or even rather ordinary, what I’ve known all along, is really ringing true. It’s anything but.✨☀️💛⭐️ What makes my path amazing is not the path itself or the particulars of it. But it’s the people that I’ve gotten to love and “serve”. They are EXTRAORDINARY 💛
And as some of them fly the nest this week (the youngest ones at least), I know that I chose well. A passing comment, said as a compliment, really spoke more to how that person felt. Loved, cared for and seen. I never needed to be the best, I only wanted, needed to give my best. I chose not a career, but a life.
I wouldn’t trade one day- winter, spring, summer or fall- one jump in the lake, one game of whiffle ball, one book we read- for anything, and for all that it meant to be there. To help others grow, carefully, beautifully, to get to watch so very much of it.
My “why” has always been to help. What’s yours?
The where, what, when, why, how and who of life circumstances will often change. But follow your heart. Listen to your deepest WHY. They will lead you where you’re meant to go. And your talents will make room for you. And looking back, if you’re spending your time and talents caring for others. and really about them, you will see. ✨✨It truly is extraordinary.✨✨ The details will figure themselves out. It’s the hearts that matter most. All of them. Yours, theirs. If you’re lucky enough, you’ll find people that support you in your endeavors. Either way, it’ll figure itself out, just keep going. When first dating my husband, he affirmed that taking care of kids is the most important job in the world. (I knew I had found a gem!)
It’s then, true now. The real truth is, taking care of people is, what’s most important. And there are a million ways to do that. Starting while young is just having the luxury of having a cleaner slate But all people need love. Investing love in others is among the best things that you’ll ever do.
While I watch some birds take off and fly today, I watch others beside me as we jump on a trampoline together. And just like that, the what keeps changing. But the why never does. IT’S LOVE.
So all the mommas (and Dads!) everywhere, keep going. Every act of love matters. And babies, you’re extraordinary.
Today was my son’s last day of preschool and so, it was my Last Day packing a little towel into his backpack for him. The towel that they use to lay on when it’s rest time.
And it struck me. Maybe not in the way that you might think, but maybe in the way that you might need to hear.
You know, as I was volunteering in the classroom the other day and I got to be there to witness the kids get out their towels and laythem out across the rug.
Some have really special towels and the towels they were proud of with pretty pictures or soft textures. Some of them showed them off to me. I looked over at my sons towel. It’s usually just a plain white towel I grab in a flurry, maybe even a little raggedy around the edges. I never really thought of packing a special towel, not too much. Or if the thought ever did cross my mind, it left as quickly as it came, with a flurry of other commotions and excitement.
And that’s okay. Though there is nothing wrong about packing a “best“ towel, and for a moment I perhaps I should’ve.
Then I realized.
That what I gave him was already enough already. It was always enough.
It might be a little ragged around the edges. I might have forgotten a few times.
But The love that I gave him, the care, the time, the attention, in all the little details, even the days I forgot, land he had to borrow a towel from school.
It was always more than enough.
It didn’t have to be fancy. It just had to be. And it was. There.
And do was I.
I witnessed, all of it, that I could. I did, the very best that I could. Perhaps we won’t remember all of the running around we did or the sacrifices we made or the hustle, just get that raggedy towel laid out for our kids. or maybe we will. But maybe we shouldn’t worry about it. Maybe it just is, just was, just will be enough. Enough for it to be. What it is. What it was. What it will be.
We laid out the table, we laid out the towels and so much of ourselves. It will be enough because it already is.
While I cringe for a minor second if I think about those threadbare edges of the towel I sent in from time to time, I know my heart is not threadbare. Or maybe it is just a little. And that’s okay too.
We have given, parents. We love, we lay down, we witness. That, plus telling them, showing them of God’s unending love, is going to be enough.
When we look back we’ll wish we had more to give. But we did it all, friends. We did everything we could, everything we knew to do, everything we had time to. That, and God’s presence is enough, more than enough.
If we can raise our kids to remember this, it definitely is.
You did everything humanly possible as a parent. So you’ll look back at times and when there was enough? If you’re being being really honest with yourself and remember there was everything you had to guess. You laid it out like an offering that threadbare towel and it was more than enough. Why because it didn’t have to be perfect because it was done out of love as a sacrifice I not only for a creator But for the children and he placed in your care. And that is why I will always be enough because you are never alone too We won’t be judged the way we judge one another or maybe even ourselves Will be judged by loving God who knows the difference between an offering. Who knows that a threadbare towel is Sometimes the best you got. Sometimes it’s all you’ve got. It doesn’t matter so much what really matters that you gave
That God anoints our heads with oil, even if mom forgot to brush it. That love never forgot us, even if we think it did. It never does.
That God, He laid out a table before us , there in the presence of our enemies. Sometimes the enemy seems to be time itself. And the ability to do the things well. But it’s not. We can rest. Knowing that right here, is enough. That our efforts are enough.
I think too, that what looks less than impressive might still be more than enough. That not everything can be judged by what we see or seem to place value on. That our imperfections don’t get the final word. That love wins out more than anything, and can’t be narrowed down or demonstrated in any one thing. Or maybe one. But that’s a cross and not a towel. Let’s remember that.
It’s enough because of that cross. That Christ demonstrated His Love for us in this way, that he laid out his life for his friends. Friend, that makes us enough. Not out efforts or our titles But knowing we are loved, and then loving. Knowing that I am who I am, and I lay it all out before God, and my family.
It has to be, and always is, enough.
And so I’ll keep going, and keep choosing love. Keep laying out a blanket, a towel, a table, of love. It’ll look different in the next stages. And it doesn’t ever have to be fancy. It just has to be. Me. Giving, in love.
And because of that, it is always going to be enough.
Annoyed that I had to be reading, scouring through the hundred pages of the new rules that are proposed for New York State. Combing through the legal language and coded words, ones that would directly impact my family.
Annoyed to read the words “expand the department’s oversight” Annoyed to read about new measures, two years later, for expanded powers of the state to quarantine, contain, and isolate, etc individuals.
Annoyed that I had to trade in time and attention for the very kids whom I was trying to look out for.
Annoyed to see the pictures of the governor maskless with school children, smiling beneath a veneer of teeth and a system that has failed them over and over these past two years. Beyond, really. Who shuttered doors, handed out iPads and kept kids away. Then brought them back with masks, are still masking and want to keep it that way for the foreseeable future. Who want to give shots – on school grounds, if necessary- and call themselves heroes. A capital that says “we will do everything in our power”, and then continually attempts to keep increasing their powers.
Annoyed that my kids see me annoyed. Annoyed that we there even is a fight at all.
It makes you wonder sometimes. What is it that we are even doing.
And then I look at my kids faces. The ones were masked, swabbed, distanced, and separated more times than we can count over the past two years. Who missed more school than seems possible. (But that part is really alright.) But all, more than really seems justified, looking back, and definitely more than seems justified looking forward. The ones the state wants to make rules for, more rules, extending to wherever they go.
The ones that like to dress like superheroes. The ones that like to dream and ask questions.
And then it all makes sense.
They deserve superheroes dressed in regular clothes who dream and ask questions now. I am not one. We are just parents walking in our superpower. To speak up for and advocate for our kids. I am not annoyed. I am emboldened. I am a adamant. Purposeful, yet again.
Yes I am annoyed at parts of it Annoyed to have to keep talking about it, annoyed at the noise and drama of it. Annoyed that some think it’s overreacting. Annoyed that the questions are being called dangerous.
It’s enough sometimes to makes you want to turn it off, shut it down and play Uno. (And we did, we played together, we told stories over dinner. And we did what families do. )
But I will not shut it off completely. Because this is not a game.
No matter what criticism, or what watchful judging stares. >>Because those are not the watching eyes that matter. << Because there is no harm in asking questions; there is only harm in not. Because among other things, <<>>>. All of our kids are. And someday they will have questions about all of this, too.
These kids that dream of being superheroes. That do not belong to the state. They do not belong to us. They belong to God. And we have them only, on loan, by His grace.
I’m going to have to give an account for whatever I did or didn’t do to help them in this world, and for whose side I was on. It better be theirs, and God’s. Not convenience. Not programs. Theirs.
So no, I guess I am not really annoyed. Not for having to stand up for them.
That is my right AND privilege. I do it passionately, but hopefully, with great love.
They deserve us asking questions and they deserve us trying to figure out what’s happening. These kids deserve the best possible future. They don’t deserve us handing over their futures to “that will never happen”. The past is too vigilant in telling its stories of things gone wrong when no one was looking. Of governments growing in control while no one was looking. Playing chess while people played uno. We shouldn’t turn a blind eye or a deaf ear. Not this time.
I’ll be over here in my corner doing what I feel I need to, being a voice for their future. Praying like crazy. Telling good stories ourselves, to them. Much like all of parenting, we don’t need to be perfect, we just need to be present and aware . A watchman for them.
Our kids are too precious to not ask the questions, to not have the discussions, to not scour the data and pages, looking for answers, maybe asking more questions. Speaking up. For them. I applaud those who did it for others, who help to interpret. They are doing good, good work.
Because our kids deserve to tell good stories themselves, a lot of them. Stories of life and love and freedom. Stories that make things right. Superhero stories.
You can do or not do whatever you think, too that’s totally your call. Stare if you want even.
I’ll risk being “wrong” in order to help them live right.
Hey, I'm Courtney, a pretty ordinary girl who thinks we've all been called to an extraordinary life and love story with God. I'm passionate about family, faith, motherhood, and the adventure of every day. I write lots of words, mostly because I can’t help it- and I think it's one of the things I was born to do. I hope that something I write encourages you, to walk in your own unique purpose and calling, set free to love and give it away, starting wherever you are today. That's what Courting the Extraordinary is all about. Finding the good all around you, and giving it away. Finding, too, the God of all goodness who wants to walk with you.
I love quiet mornings, coffee, prayer and “work” before sunrise. Quality time with my family is my jam. I can be found grinning ear to ear when we're out on an adventure. Whether that's in our own backyard or exploring someplace new all-together, I’ll for sure note something beautiful about nature aloud-and maybe repeatedly, ha!. Life is a beautiful, precious gift, and an adventurous path to travel! We might as well learn how to love.
Hey, I'm Courtney, a pretty ordinary girl who thinks we've all been called to an extraordinary life and love story with God. I'm passionate about family, faith, motherhood, and the adventure of every day. I write lots of words, mostly because I can’t help it- and I think it's one of the things I was born to do. I hope that something I write encourages you, to walk in your own unique purpose and calling, set free to love and give it away, starting wherever you are today. That's what Courting the Extraordinary is all about. Finding the good all around you, and giving it away. Finding, too, the God of all goodness who wants to walk with you.
I love quiet mornings, coffee, prayer and “work” before sunrise. Quality time with my family is my jam. I can be found grinning ear to ear when we're out on an adventure. Whether that's in our own backyard or exploring someplace new all-together, I’ll for sure note something beautiful about nature aloud-and maybe repeatedly, ha!. Life is a beautiful, precious gift, and an adventurous path to travel! We might as well learn how to love. 