Not Prepared, But Not Alone

imageThe words on the brand-new patch seem ironic this morning.

“Be Prepared.”

As if my son could have been ready for the emotional roller coaster he rode yesterday. It was his alone – not really a journey for the rest of us.

He’s been a Boy Scout for just one year, and last night he completed his Board of Review for the fourth rank, and was awarded it – First Class. He was thrilled. It was a goal he’d been working toward for months; he’d wanted to be First Class by the time he leaves for Scout camp this summer, and we were so proud of him for following through.

But sometimes highs are just a little tainted, and so this one was.  Before he left for the meeting, he realized that his beloved fish, “jerk fish,” – the same one I wrote about here a few months back – had died. This little fish had lived for 6 years and was my son’s personal, first pet. It was bad news.

When we got home from the meeting, we buried him in the garden. My poor son was so upset. It broke my heart. I know how he hurt – how he’d cared for this animal, put effort into its life. But I reminded him of all the things he had done well for this fish, and of the fact that God designs his creatures with finite life spans, for reasons only He understands.

My son’s eyes never left my face as I told him these things. Then he hugged me for a long, long time.

In victories and loss, we have one another, and the knowledge that others can empathize. This too, is a gift from the One who promises to never leave us alone.

“Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed,

yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken

nor my covenant of peace be removed,”

says the Lord, who has compassion on you.

– Isaiah 54:10

I Can’t Hear Him

“I can’t hear Him.”

My young son is whispering, and I’m annoyed. It’s Mother’s Day, we’re in church (one of my favorite places), and I’m kneeling down for this sacred moment – the highest point of the Mass. The priest is consecrating the Host and my little boy is insistently chattering in hushed tones in my left ear.  Grrr. I just want quiet. I am not feeling holy.

“I CAN’T hear Him. I’ll NEVER hear His voice. Never!”

‘Uh-oh,’ I think. This is my fault. Try to do a good thing and…oh, well…

See, I was in Target on Saturday and in the $1 bins they had these cute little notebooks. I immediately remembered a suggestion I’d heard recently from Matthew Kelly, founder of Dynamic Catholic and acclaimed speaker and author.  He explains:

Our lives change when our habits change. Get yourself a Mass Journal and bring it to church with you each Sunday. Write down the one thing that God whispers into your soul.  This one habit will change your whole experience of the Mass, your relationship with God, and your appreciation of the Church. This one habit will help you become a-better-version-of-yourself, will make you a more engaged and contributing member of your parish community, and will invigorate your relationships.*

His straightforward idea was brilliant – a perfect way to focus my attention during the service, and on God’s will for me in the week Mass  Journalsahead. One thing. I can do that. And so can my sidekicks.

So, on the way to church I gave each of my kids a notebook and explained the idea.

“Write down the 1 thing God says to you,” I advised. “Not 2, or 5, or 8. Just one.”

My older kids (12 and 9) understood right away and didn’t object because the idea was very simple.  I could tell they were listening in church, and they were writing in their notebooks after the Gospel was read. But my little guy…Hmm.

I knew at the outset I was asking a lot. The kid starts Kindergarten in the fall. He writes his letters, but he can’t read. So, I told him I would write God’s message in his notebook for him. I mean, I couldn’t very well give the other kids a booklet and not him, right? That wouldn’t be fair. And now he says he can’t hear God. I didn’t quite foresee that difficulty, because this is the child who thinks of other people to pray for all the time. Every night during prayers, he asks God to surround everyone in the world with angels and help them have sweet dreams. He likes to read Bible stories and lights up when we talk about Jesus – who is, in his words, “the most, most powerful.” How do you tell a young child that the goodness in his heart is exactly the thing I want him to pay attention to right now?

His angst returned when we did our bedtime routine. I sensed there was more to this, so I pushed a little harder.

“What’s really wrong, buddy? We can put aside the journal until you’re bigger. That’s fine. You’re good boy. Why does this bother you so much?”

“I wanted to hear His voice FIRST!!!” he blurted out.

OH! There’s the rub. He wanted to know what God was saying before his siblings.

I knew we had to move away from the topic; he was just too worked up. So we read a book about spiders and called it a night. But his feelings struck me as universal.

When we’re listening for God, don’t we all want the satisfaction of hearing from him RIGHT NOW? Before anyone else? We love to be ‘in-the-know.’ And yet, sitting in faith can be like sitting in fog. What’s required of us is obedience and submission – the suspension of ourselves and our expectations as we wait for Him. He always fulfills His promises. He loves hearts that are turned to Him. But He’s sovereign. And good things come to those who wait.

“Wait for the Lord; Be strong and let your heart take courage; Yes, wait for the Lord.”

– Psalm 27:14

*(Rediscover Catholicism: A Spiritual Guide to Living With Passion and Purpose, p. 205) – request your copy of this book and a Mass Journal at Dynamic Catholic.

Anything to Get to My Son’s Heart

I went into my son’s room just now to get this picture. My focus was really going to be on those two albums to the right – by TobyMac and Skillet. But one of our dogs followed me in and the picture turned out this way, which I think is kind of cute.

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See how her right ear is flipped out?  She’s a dog in motion, about to leave the frame to go sniff the pile of dirty clothes behind her and then settle in on that pillowy blue chair on the left side of the photo – all because these things are comfortable smells that remind her of my son. She likes to be around him. So do I.

And that’s a great thing. I’m savoring it because he’s 12 and I’m not sure what the teen years will bring. But I can tell you what he and I share right now. Music.

I was taking him to Tae Kwon Do practice last week, when “We Won’t Be Shaken” by Building 429 came on the radio. My son absentmindedly began singing. Strangely, the car was quiet. His siblings were both lost in their own thoughts. My son didn’t realize I was listening to him. Singing. Every. Word. Right. To. The. End.

When you finish reading here, click on the YouTube link below and listen. Perhaps you’ll understand why I was hiding my eyes, filled with tears of joy, when he hopped out of the car a minute or so later.

When my kids are in the car, I listen to either Christian or classical music, with few exceptions. Yes, I enjoy other genres of music and need my daily dose of news (when young ears aren’t listening), but I like the atmosphere that this music creates as we go about our activities together. And I also believe that the media we consume has an effect on what we feel, think, and become.

Scripture confirms this.

“The lamp of the body is the eye. If your eye is sound, your whole body will be filled with light; but if your eye is bad, your whole body will be in darkness. And if the light in you is darkness, how great will the darkness be.” (Matthew 6:22)

The things we look at, read, and examine closely make their way into the fabric of our being and either work for good, or not. The books we read, shows we watch, music we hear, people we spend time with, matter. We need to choose wisely.

When I was about my son’s age, my dad gave me some Christian music that I listened to frequently. He had taken some time to figure out what was popular with young people in the 80s, and made selections that he thought I might like. He did a good job. The words of those songs made their way into my heart. I didn’t stay with the faith through my tumultuous teen and college years, but the lyrics I had learned and the Truth they spoke of, never left me. And when I was finally ready to turn toward the loving whisper that was gently beckoning me, I knew those songs had played an important role in my faith formation. To this day, “El Shaddai” by Amy Grant is still one of my favorites.

So, I’m listening to the radio, and to my kids, paying attention to which artists, both secular and Christian, they are responding to. And I’ve gone out on a limb and bought my son, and my daughter, CDs I think they’d enjoy with messages I’d like them to hear. I’ve been blessed for my efforts, because they are playing those CDs, singing along, engraving Truth on their hearts without even realizing it. Some of this music isn’t exactly my taste, but it’s definitely grace in action.

Sonatina

 

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sonatina (n.) – a musical composition, a short version of a sonata, which consists of three or four independent movements varying in key, mood and tempo.

I’m at my daughter’s piano lesson. Her teacher is coaching her through her very first sonatina, and they have been replaying a tiny section for 20 minutes now. The teacher, firmly but lovingly instructs in Russian-accented English.  She softly sings the melody, claps out the changing tempo, encourages, challenges, compliments…

“Your goal is to play correctly……So beautiful….Let’s grow through this phrase….Good job…..Listen…..Okay, start again. Concentrate……Crescendo will come….Just relax….Don’t rush……Good…Ok, not so loud. How will you grow?…..Again, look just ahead…..Very nice!!”

They are building upon the sections my daughter has learned in the past few weeks, and on skills she has acquired in her four years of music study. My daughter is 9, and her teacher and I have discussed this many times: the goal here is not to produce a professional musician. The goal is to foster the love of music my girl was born with, and to inspire within her a lifelong appreciation of this particular art.

Yet, my daughter also seems to have an ability for this instrument, an aptitude, maybe a gift. I don’t want her to squander it by ignoring it in favor of short-term pursuits. But in her immaturity, she goes back and forth between listening to me and ignoring me. And she has a short attention span – not long-range vision. So I remind her to, and on occasion make her, practice. Then practice a little more. See, I think she could play for her family, friends, or a church far into the winter of her life.

And this – this lifelong ideal of musical love and development – is why gentle encouragement is so important. If her teacher and I push her too hard, there’s a very real risk she’ll lose her joy for playing. And if it sounds like I’m overthinking this, it’s because I know I could so easily push my expectations and hopes onto this child, and I also know that in all likelihood, I will (or have already) said the wrong thing to her at some point. The voices she hears in her mind as she plays echo those she hears as she learns.

I’m sure I’ve failed in my pursuit to find the perfect balance between affirmation and pressure. But I keep going, believing I’m a better mother for focusing on my goal, which was affirmed for me once again in my Bible study this morning while reading these verses.

Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.

– Philippians 3:12-14

The fact is – I am a work in progress. My life is about growing up and into the state I’ve been called to live in – holiness. And I don’t say that in a lofty sort of way, because I believe everyone is called to holiness. We are designed, from before our very conception, to seek union with God in Heaven, and in this life, all our other attempts to find complete satisfaction and perfection will fail. So until my time comes, I press forward, keeping my eyes on this prize.

If I were left alone to strive for holiness, I would be making even more cacophonous noise in my life than I already do. Because though I may sometimes say the right things to my daughter, for example, my words alone don’t reveal the full intentions of my heart. As a sinner, my heart and mind continue to mess up, because I stubbornly continue to rely on my strength to be a ‘good’ mother, wife, friend, or Christian.

But I’m not alone. My Teacher, the one who sings me the tunes I’m trying to play and coaxes me through endless repetitions of sticky, challenging, and seemingly redundant notes in a life that constantly changes tempo, mood, and key, is faithfully patient. Best of all, He is forgiving – endlessly willing to start with me again when I make mistakes and don’t practice what I’m learning. The Holy Spirit nudges me to pass on the treasures of these holy lessons …to a daughter who listens, albeit imperfectly – just like me.

 

Green Cake

The nurses asked me to hold his thin little arms down at his sides while he sat facing me on the examination table. “Hold tightly,” they said, “because there will be a pause.” Each nurse had two syringes, and I could see my son eyeing them with trepidation. My head flooded with thoughts.

Four vaccinations for my five-year old. How have I blocked the memories of doing this with my older two??

This child causes me angst…I know what’s to come, or… not, rather. At one-year old, the doctor stabbed him in the leg with a shot, and he didn’t flinch. When he was three, he cut his forehead open on a tree branch, and he stayed still as stone while the ER doc glued the 3/4 inch tear in his paper-thin skin back together. This is the child who doesn’t cry. At least not when I wish he would.

So I braced myself. And they jabbed him with needles. It felt like it was my heart being stabbed. He didn’t make a sound. I saw his body tense, and then his left arm start to bleed after the first jab on that side. The nurse wiped the blood down his arm in a long red streak and kept at her task. Another needle in, and my young man just flared his nostrils. He watched it all – the crimson cotton balls, the band-aids, the nurses’ murmured consolations, the collection of trash, and their hasty departure when it was all over.

I hadn’t moved from in front of his knees. His eyes were just spilling over when he looked at me squarely and said simply,

“It hurt-ed, Mommy.”

And all I could say before hugging him to stop my own tears was, “I know. I know.”

I am so, so blessed. My son is healthy. And in the local newspaper this week, there was an article about a fundraiser for St. Baldrick’s. Wonderful, generous people shave their heads after collecting donations for children fighting cancer. Families engaged in this awful fight have seen their kids stuck with more needles than they could ever count.

I was thinking about that when I went to bed last night after watching my son be so brave about four little shots, and I woke up this morning, determined to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day thankfully – as the Feast Day that it is. Saint Patrick said:

 “Hence I cannot be silent, and indeed I ought not to be, 

about the many blessings and the great grace

which the Lord has deigned to bestow upon me.”

So, I put off my to-do list and made it a day about enjoying my son. He will start Kindergarten in the fall. This is my last St. Patrick’s Day with a preschooler in the house. How did we spend it?

He took a very loooooong and leisurely bath, with bubbles of course, and used almost an entire tube of red bathtub paint turning the water an atrocious shade of pink. This also enabled the plastic Spiderman band-aids to fall off – and neither of us was sad to see them go.

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We attempted a St. Patrick’s Day photo shoot with our “Irish” mutt, Seamus, and got one Facebook-worthy picture out of the experience, along with lots of giggles.  Our Seamus is so darn sweet.

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We baked a cake, made frosting, licked beaters, and even managed to get some green stuff on the cake. We also jazzed it up with dark green sprinkles, because they make everything better!

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And we played Cars 2 on the Wii. I lost every single race. You’re shocked, right? In his knowing way, with all the wisdom of his 5 blessed years, my son reassured me that I will get better. I couldn’t care less. Just to see his smile….

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Whether you are Irish or not, may you and yours be especially blessed this Saint Patrick’s Day. Slainte!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bath Time Reflection

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One of the things I love most about being a parent is the random conversation. You know – the one that happens at that strangest time?

The other night, I was helping my youngest out of his bath when we had this one. I wrote it down for posterity’s sake.

“Mommy, do you know everyone in the world?”

“No!” I chuckle. “No. Not even close.”

“But everyone knows Jesus.”

‘Wow – what a segue,’ I think.

“No, Honey. Everyone doesn’t.”

I think for a beat or two.

“But we do. Hmm – what do you know about Him?”

“He’s powerful.”

“Yes. What else?”

“I don’t know.”

“How do you think he feels when he looks at you?”

Partially wrapped only in his towel, he looks up at me with a wet face and tousled hair, and breaks into a full-face grin.

“Happy!!”

I can’t help but smile broadly too.  My little man feels unconditionally loved.  And he is.  He truly, truly is.

Then, a couple verses of Scripture spring to mind:

 Jesus…called the children to himself and said, “Let the children come to me and do not prevent them; for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these….” – Luke 18:17

Oh – if we could just approach Him with this same expectation that we would be received unconditionally….

“With age-old love I have loved you” – Jeremiah 31:3

I know, I know.  Why do I still allow doubt to creep in?

What was that other verse – the one from Song of Songs? I get my Bible and look it up. The book will make you blush, but it’s a love story between God and His beloved – His people – and He’s speaking to every single one of us, beckoning us to union with Him.

“How beautiful you are, how pleasing, my love, my delight!”  – Song of Songs 7:7

It feels wonderful to read this, to have knowledge of where to turn to find it. And the more I see the big picture, the more I understand that the Old and New Testaments together are one big love story to the world – and to me. But as I read, I’m also aware of all the pages in my Bible with which I’m not familiar. And I sense that I’m being called – again.

Today, I’m studying in Hebrews when this pops out:

“Everyone who lives on milk lacks experience of the word of righteousness, for he is a child. But solid food is for the mature, for those whose faculties are trained by practice to discern good and evil.” – Hebrews 6:13-14

My son’s understanding of Jesus is absolutely correct, but he has more to learn. He needs to mature. And although I have been a Christian for many years, this verse is an exhortation to my spiritual renewal, too. I can’t rest on what I know and expect to deepen my relationship with Christ. Like any relationship, this one requires attention, care, and a desire to learn more about the other person. Friendships and marriages become stale and fall apart when the individuals involved fail to keep pursuing one another. And since my God, “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever” (Hebrews 13:8), I can count on Him not giving up on his end.  That leaves the rest to me.

It’s Lent. A perfect time to consider ways to recommit myself to Christ. If my heart, mind, and soul look the same now as they did last Lent, or the ones before, I have work to do. The Bible is a large tome. Time to dig in.

Valentines for Everyone!

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They burst into the kitchen, their young faces flush with excitement. “We have a GREAT idea!” they said.  “We’re going to make Valentines for everyone in the neighborhood!”

“Um, ok.”  I said, incredulous. “That’s a….good idea..??”

With amazed and delighted disbelief I watched my daughter and her friend follow through on this loving, joyful impulse.  In the unusually warm weather, they spent all of Sunday afternoon sitting on our front porch making Valentines for neighbors, most of whom they don’t know, taking breaks now and then to run off with exuberance for “deliveries.”  If the recipient was a friend, he or she received the card face-to-face.  If not, the Valentines were left in the house mailbox, one from each girl, sweetly signed with only their first names. In a span of 4 hours, the girls industriously covered our little section of the world, 4 tiny streets, with love.

We were all conceived by the One who loves like this – with abandon. But somewhere along the way, we usually acquire a harder-hearted response – the one that I showed yesterday – to love, freely given. Lord, open my eyes today.  Help me to see all the ways you love me.  Help me share your everlasting love with the world.

Many waters cannot quench love,

Nor will rivers overflow it;

If a man were to give all the riches of his house for love,

It would be utterly despised.

–  Song of Solomon 8:7

 

Fighting Imaginary Foes

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We had a great Christmas.  And then, just as regular routines were to return (and I hoped to begin writing again), things went topsy turvy. I’ll spare you the details, but over the last 8 days – one very long week – our household experienced the flu, strep throat, a broken dryer requiring immediate replacement, a small but inconvenient snowstorm, and a birthday – celebrated over 3 days. My thoughts on the birthday, and how it initiated my plan for the new year, is the topic of this blog post – long overdue.

So – my oldest child turned 12 last week. My kids’ birthdays always give me pause.  Each one is a moment to reflect on the fact that with every passing year, this particular child is showing us more of who he or she is meant be.  But this birthday – 12 – somehow felt like a milestone (and not because my son jokingly told me to say he’s “twelve-teen”).

I remember being 12.  6th grade. Switching classes for the first time. Dealing with a changing body. My school’s motto for the year was, “If It’s Going to Be, It’s Up to Me” and my English teacher, Mrs. Walker, had plastered these words in huge red letters to the classroom ceiling. She wanted us to remember this, to have confidence in ourselves.

But with maturity comes the realization that we can’t really solve every problem we encounter, make everything “be” just the way we’d like it to be.  Some things are always beyond our reach.

To illustrate, I must first acknowledge what every parent learns eventually – that it’s strange, humbling, and frustrating when you see that your kids have inherited some of your traits. I’ve known for years that my oldest cannot see a disturbing image, even for a second, without internalizing it. Just like mine, his mind will revisit the image and animate it through nightmares for days on end until it has finished with it.  The process is upsetting and tiring, and after 42 years, I’ve never found a way to bypass or stop it, except by avoiding media that contains content I suspect will incite the problem.

So, just a few days before his 12th birthday, he had nightmares 2 days in a row after seeing 1 still image for an upcoming horror movie. My husband and I talked to him about what his brain was doing, made him laugh, took his mind off things, and I prayed with him.  On the third night, he asked me to pray with him preemptively, before he went to sleep, and that night (and the nights after) the nightmares did not return.

If the genetic patterns hold true for him, then the vivid dreams that have plagued me will not be just a childhood occurrence for this kid.  They will persist and grow more mature as he matures, encompassing all the sights and sounds of an evil world and fears of an adult mind.

So what can I do for my son? I help him understand our faith and teach him to pray for strength and courage to fight foes – imaginary and real, but beyond that, where do I go?

In prayer, the answer came.

For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline. 

– 2 Timothy 1:7 

My son is venturing into the adolescent years, and this world would have me be fearful of events to come and what could happen to him.  Currently, these are my imaginary foes, and if I let it, my mind can go to some very dark places.  But I am not going to sit by and worry about my son and the challenges that lie ahead for him.  I choose to trust in the One who loves my son more than me, and so I will ask my Lord to guide and protect my precious child.

Further, praying the Word of God is praying the Will of God.  I pray for my kids, yes, but I want to be quite clear. So, remembering an article I read recently, I took some time to carve out a daily prayer plan for this year, encompassing specific verses of scripture for my sons and daughter, and entrusting them once again to the One for whom nothing is out of reach.

 

Articles about praying for your children:

“10 Prayers For Your Son” by Brooke McGlothlin and Lisa TerKeurst

10 Prayers For Your Son

“10 Prayers For Your Daughter” by Lisa TerKeurst

10 Prayers For Your Daughter

Day 28 – Blue Angels and Loops

“Do the Blue Angels have an airport?”

“Do the Blue Angels wear helmets?”

“Do the Blue Angels practice?”

Like top-of-the-hour-news reports, preschoolers can get on loops that change only slightly from day to day.  Mine has been ‘looping’ about the Blue Angels for a week or so now. We live in Annapolis, home of the U.S. Naval Academy.  The mega-impressive demo team flies here during Commissioning Week each May and it’s one of the highlights of our town’s year.  We also live near the Navy stadium, so we drive past a retired Blue Angel plane parked outside of it – at a vicious angle, no less – every single day. It’s no small wonder my son would have an interest. Thankfully, we are prepared. We’ve collected several small Blue Angel planes over the years. (See Exhibit A: attached photo).  The dents and missing paint belie hours of death-defying stunts. My husband and I can answer most questions. If not, there’s the internet.

Anyway, while my 4-year old son has been ‘looping’ lately on this fun topic, he’s also been circling back to a heavier one.  I’m astonished, humbled, and proud to say that completely on his own, he has remembered to pray for his friends’ father every single night since I first heard him during bedtime prayers on October 30. (See Day 18) That’s nearly a month ago.

When my son first heard about this man’s need, he and all his classmates only knew that “Ava and Charlotte’s dad was in the hospital.”* Now, he doesn’t know much more except that it was an accident and the twins’ father was hurt by some tree branches.  But we parents have been told details. Things children don’t need to hear. He is still in the hospital. He still needs prayers.

I think about this as I watch my son pray, and how his perseverance in prayer, is what faith is really about. It’s about not getting caught up in the details, but instead choosing to believe in a big, Big, BIG God. Yes, prayers might not get answered the way we’d like them to, but that’s not the point. The point is that in prayer, we acknowledge our need for God.

For a few days now, after bedtime prayer, my son has had a new ‘loop’ question. “How can God hear us?” I tell him again and again, “God knows, and sees and hears everything because he is the Master and Creator of everything. And he wants us to talk to Him, because he loves his children and wants them to tell Him what’s on their minds and hearts. To stay close to Him, we need to talk to Him.”

So we carry on with our questions – about things for which we can find answers, and the things we can’t.  And the peace that I feel when I spend time in prayer is all the confirmation I need that He is near, and hears me.

And this is the confidence that we have in him, that, if we ask any thing according to his will, he hears us. 

— 1 John 5: 14-15

 * Not their real names.

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Day 27 – Beagle in My Lap

So, I’m approaching the end of my first 31 days of blogging, and I wasn’t sure what I’d write about today, but I really wanted to post something. I had a few ideas, but every time I started to write, I was sidetracked…by someone.

It was my youngest child, mostly.  He was hungry.  Then he needed a different show on TV.  Then he’d seen too much TV so we cleaned bathrooms together. Then we ate lunch and went to the store.  We came home and unpacked the groceries.  We picked his siblings up from school.  It was crazy warm for November today (71 degrees!) and the kids wanted to play outside.  I sat out there with them and tried to write.  The neighbor dropped by to say hello.

After the sun went down, I sent all the kids into the basement and plopped on the couch to try one more time. Our beagle climbed up next to me and laid her head on my chest. I kissed her and then she looked up at me with those big brown eyes of hers, and she crawled right on top of my iPad, into my lap. I let out a deep, deep sigh.

Yesterday, I wrote about the need to leave white space – margin – in the calendar. The main reason is because days like this happen to me all the time. I am blessed with a family who needs me, and while it is appropriate that I have time to myself to pursue my interests, the reality is that my life is not my own. It is a gift that has been entrusted to me, and I am just the steward, trying to do my best to take good care of the people, responsibilities, and things I’ve been blessed with.  I ask for His wisdom and guidance to prioritize my days, and to see what I need to see. From that point on, it’s better if I’m not trying to steer.

Today, each cry of “Mom!!!” was a divine appointment. And that’s what I needed to remember.

 

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