Raising kids

Let it Be Summer

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The year goes by so fast, doesn’t it? June is done, and with it, a sense of finality. We’re still in the stage of measuring our lives in school years and summertimes, and summertime is taking centre stage right now.

My favourite tree across the street is larger than last year and all colours of beautiful blooms fill the beds and hedges around the yard. There’s a heaviness in the air this week – a humidity we don’t usually experience here – thanks to some heavy rain several days ago. Even the nights feel warm and sticky. It smells like wet earth and things growing and all the little bits of summer that we forget so quickly when the wind shifts at the end of the season.

For now though, we relish the heat of the sun and the green of the landscape and the hum of the creatures that fill our summer soundtrack. We’re ready for another kind of learning, the kind that teaches us how to live together and love each other well when there isn’t the same set routine or responsibilities of the school year to occupy our time.

It’s not that I don’t have things that need to get done in the next couple of months. There is no shortage of household projects and preparations and to-do lists, but I know that we need to make room for true rest in all its beautiful forms.

Perhaps that’s why I am a firm believer in the gift of a boring summer. Although we do maintain some expectations of household chores and sibling time throughout these wild and free summer days, I choose a slower pace for these summer vacation days. There is space in the schedule to lay down on the grass and look at the clouds. Play the entirety of a Phase 10 card game (that means all 10 phases!). To plan and execute a three-day campout in the backyard. Spontaneously get together with friends who happen to be in town for the day. Shop for and cook dinner over a fire we took the time to build. Say yes to an impromptu ice cream invite. To read aloud together. To grab the binoculars and check out that cool bird. To drive out of town for the day and explore a new place.

To just be.

I walked into two different stores this week and saw autumn-themed decorations – and immediately closed my eyes and put out my hand with a firm, “No”. Not ready for that, thank you very much. How about popsicles for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and watermelon all day long! Sprinklers and water fights and pop-ins at the pool. Epic thunderstorms with awe-inducing lightning bolts and bubbling clouds that make your heart beat just a little bit faster.

The reality of the passage of time is always pressing down on me. I see all the changes happening before my very eyes – in my own reflection in the mirror, in my kids, in our family dynamics. I’m thankful for all the moments we have together, even the ones that feel a lot more like storm clouds and thorns than sunshine and roses. Change has never been my forte, and the looming uncertainties of the future are casting their shadows on my current season of life, but I am setting my heart on the One who never changes!

Psalm 91:1-2

Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
    will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
    my God, in whom I trust.”

Image: Stocksnap

A Thousand Little Moments

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“You want to work on this with me, Mom?” 

The invite came from my eldest, last Saturday after breakfast. 

A partially finished puzzle of Jane Austen quotes was laid out on the folding table in the living room. The older two girls had begun it earlier in the week and day after day it stared up at us, patiently waiting to be completed. I’d been intending to sit down and work on it with them at some point in the week, but of course life kept popping in with its more pressing demands.

My mind scanned the list of things on the to-do list. “Puzzle” was not on it. And yet… 

“Sure, let’s see how far we can get,” I agreed as I took my post and slowly began to piece the quotes together, paying close attention to fonts and colours and patterns. I felt a little lost as I tried to make sense of parts of letters and segments of words that could have come from any one of the several quotes on the reference image. It was painfully slow but we made a little bit of headway before other tasks drew us from the table, leaving some sections complete, others partially finished, none connected to the rest. I was a little disappointed, to be honest. I thought we’d get farther in the time we spent on it.

Maybe that’s why I was so surprised when I returned from an errand later that day to discover the puzzle was nearly complete.

“Wow! This looks amazing!” I exclaimed. “How did you finish it so fast?”

“Well actually most of it was done. We just needed to connect the parts together,” my daughter answered as she placed the final few pieces into the puzzle with satisfaction.

Just needed to connect the parts together. The words echoed in my mind. How often have I felt like I just needed to see the whole picture so I could make those seamless connections between the parts of my life that feel like they’re never going to come together and the ones that are looking pretty good from my vantage point. Most of the time, I simply don’t see how it’s all going to work out until long after it’s over and I gain some distance and perspective.

I am learning to trust that the Lord is always at work. And as I get older, I am spending less time trying to predict where things fit and more time marvelling at the finished product, most often absolutely stunned and surprised by the goodness and faithfulness of a God who is always mysteriously at work, bringing beauty from ashes in one way or another.

What an amazing thing! A puzzle goes from one thousand individual little pieces to one exquisite, unified image: an ever-present but very ordinary reminder that the Lord is working a thousand little moments together to bring about something beautiful in my own life. Even when I can’t possibly imagine how the pieces fit, they always do. 

Thanks be to God.

Ephesians 3:16-21

I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.  Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

Image: mine

Sweet Summer

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This week marks the first anniversary of the sudden and unexpected loss of my father-in-law.

Twelve months of firsts. Twelve months that haven’t gone exactly as planned. Twelve months of shuffling, adjusting, making space for a new reality. Twelve months that have brought moments of pure grief, pure joy and everything in between.

And a new awareness: twelve months of the faithfulness of God in dark, unfamiliar places.

For the Lord is good
And His love endures forever
His faithfulness continues to all generations.
(Psalm 100:5)

Yes, Lord, You are faithful. 

As our family moves into the fullness of the sweet summer months, we are experiencing the goodness of the Lord in a thousand little ways, in a thousand little places. And while we intentionally remember what He has done, we recognize there are many things we don’t understand. Living in the tension between the two, our hearts are tuned to His love and care.

Even in the gift of a fresh, late June morning, thick with humidity, at least as much this arid city will allow. More than we’re used to, anyway. Lilacs and roses soak the air with heavy, sweet fragrance as bees bumble from bloom to bloom.

Summer is fleeting in this part of the world, so we tend to make the most of the warmth and sunshine while we have it. Responsibilities give way to relaxation, but we’re learning from the story of the Grasshopper and the Ants! Committing to completing the tasks on the to-do list feels like a sacrifice when we know that before long, autumn will appear for a big colorful show, ushering in our regular tasks and routines.

The weaving together of work and play is an art! Striking that beautiful balance of completing some big jobs and kicking up our heels for some fun seems to be the challenge of these short summer months. I am praying for the strength to do the hard things and the wisdom to make space for the best things. 

I watch my friends and family as their birds leave the nest, knowing that our time is coming. We’re not quite there but we know that soon we’ll be into the “everyone doing their own thing” season of life. We’re catching glimpses of it. The inevitable shift is in motion, and it’s all brand new. I feel like a first-time mom all over again – but this time instead of bouncing a sweet babe on my hip, I’m juggling social plans and big emotions. I’m relearning many things as my role moves from teacher and trainer to coach and cheerleader.

Amid the shifts in family dynamics, the gravity of the passing of time grounds me. I am fully aware that we have just a few years left before our own birds start spreading their wings and heading out.

Lord, stamp eternity into my eyes. Help me not to waste the difficult moments. Help me to trust that You know all things, and in Your time You make all things beautiful.

These past twelve months have driven me even deeper into the perfect love of God. I have discovered that no matter where the road leads, no matter what season we are in, He is good. He is a refuge in times of trouble. He cares for those who trust in Him! (Nahum 1:7). It is only by His grace that I wake each morning, ready for what the new day holds. And by His grace, I can confidently say: Praise be to the Lord, to God our Saviour, who daily bears our burdens (Psalm 68:19).

Image: mine

Always Learning

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The rhythms of the year are more and more precious to me with each passing season. Birdsong floats over a carpet of green, buds appear on otherwise barren branches and tender shoots poke up through the earth. The sun plays hide and seek with layers of clouds, peeking its head out now and then to cast shadows.

Spring snow brings moisture, although we would rather it fall as rain, but we are well-acquainted with the changeable nature of the season. Even so, the first lines of Psalm 24 echo in my mind… 

“The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it,
    the world, and all who live in it…”

Time drifts along, rearranging the space in my life to suit the season I am in. I am the first to tell my friends that “life is seasons” when the waves of change roll. I’m telling them, but in reality, I’m preaching to my own heart.

I’ve never liked endings, even necessary ones. Even though I know how it will go, I can’t help myself. I’ve shed tears over the break-up of the Beatles, the final minutes of Return of the King, the closing pages of Pride and Prejudice and Anne of Green Gables. I always wish for just one more song or scene. My 9 year old appears to have inherited that trait. The other day she said to me, “Sometimes I don’t finish books because I don’t want them to end.”

Oh honey, I feel that deep in my bones. I don’t want this season to end so I hold on with an iron grip and refuse to open my white-knuckled fingers for fear not that I will drop something but that I myself will be dropped. Is it trust that I am forgetting? I know the One who holds it all together. Can I not trust that He will sustain? That He is enough?

In holding on so tight, I’m trying to hold back the sands of time grain by grain.

Impossible task.

Every time we reach a new stage, a new milestone, a new season, a piece of my heart goes with them. It’s just another version of the same lesson we begin to learn the moment they take their first breath.

Yet, in my heart I hear the gentle whisper, reminding me of the One who is always good.

“Let them go. Let them experience and learn and grow and discover the very good God that you know. The God who sustains, rescues, forgives, saves and love so deeply. The God who is with us, and will be long after you’re gone.”

Oh Lord have mercy on this mama who is always learning to let go! Give me the grace to keep moving through these ages and stages, knowing that You are good and Your love endures forever, and that Your faithfulness continues through all generations.

Help me to trust them, but most of all, to trust You with them, Lord.

Image: Stocksnap

The Real Harvest Moon

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We watched with bated breath. 

To our complete amazement, round and glowing orange, it quickly ascended from behind the blue clouds of dusk to reveal its fullness.

“It’s the REAL Harvest Moon!” A small voice shouted with glee. “Just like in the books!”

I lifted my youngest up so he could see over the fence. Next year, he’ll be tall enough to see it without my help.

His face lit up with complete astonishment. “It’s like a pumpkin! An actual pumpkin!”

We’ve been talking about this moment all week long, watching the waxing gibbous moon with images of a cantaloupe moon above a field full of ripe wheat dancing in our minds.

This year’s Harvest Moon did not disappoint. The size was impressive, the colour was just right, the brightness was astounding. After a few more oohs and ahhs, my small crowd dispersed and darkness brought an end to our day.

We’ve seen that old moon year after year, haven’t we? And as the decades roll by the wonder is lost on us. Other things capture our attention, like to-do lists, projects and responsibilities. Oh look there’s the moon, we might think to ourselves, if our minds aren’t already chock-full as we drive from one end of the city to another to accomplish our task list of programs, plans and errands.

And then we encounter the world through the eyes of a child and their gift of noticing. At around 12 months, they begin to point, drawing our eyes to things we otherwise would have overlooked. Then words form, and as they grow up they begin to notice more of the world around them. With eyes to the dusky sky, mouths agape with amazement, they declare, “Oh LOOK! There’s the MOON!”, as if they’ve only ever seen it in books. It’s a celebrity of sorts.

They marvel at the zinnias in bloom, the sunflower finally opening its petals, a bumblebee lazily humming about the yard, a small grey bunny hopping in the dim morning light, a dark chocolate-coloured moose standing on the edge of a small wood with its golden trees reflecting in the still pond below.

The wonder of creation is not lost on them. I pray it remains long into their adult years, remembering their mom sharing glimpses of flowers and bugs, trees and skies, drawing hearts and eyes up toward the One who made it all.

In years past, we’ve spent the three weeks before Thanksgiving intentionally making time to count our blessings in some tangible way with handprint leaves on the wall and a thanksgiving tree of sorts. I often felt as if Thanksgiving was a drive-by turkey dinner and a slice of pie sandwiched in the middle of a busy school season and the onset of the inevitable illnesses of colder months, so I intentionally made a way for our family to participate in activities that would orient us toward gratitude and in praise of the One who gave us everything. Three Weeks of Thanks has been a wonderful way to make sure that our Thanksgiving meal isn’t just a blip on the calendar on the way to a candy-saturated holiday.

As our stage of life shifts, I’m finding new ways of intentionally creating space for gratitude and thanks in our home. Every Thursday for over a year, we’ve taken time at the breakfast table to share something we’re feeling thankful for that morning and I’ve noticed a pattern even in this practice. Most of the things are tangible blessings like home, food, family and friends, but from time to time they’ll venture into the intangible and hit on something that stirs me.

“Thank you for that hard thing we had to go through as a family because it brought us closer together”.

It brought 2 Corinthians to my mind:

But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.

2 Corinthians 4:7-10 (NIV)

Are we listening to our children? Are we discovering what makes them who they are? Are we delighting in them? Granted, alongside the listening, discovering and delight there may be an equal or greater amount of difficulty or discipline, but we cover all in prayer, confident that the Lord is at work in our homes. 

As we prepare for Thanksgiving in the next week, may we continue the good, hard work of learning to love our kids well and point them to the One whose goodness knows no bounds.

(image: Stocksnap)

Shades of Autumn

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Golden shades of autumn kiss green treetops as we sail down the open road. 

A last-minute weekend away took us through the hot, dry prairies and up into craggy mountains and lush valleys, along turquoise lakes, bubbling creeks and shady, tree-lined highways.

At night, the frogs and crickets sang with the sound of the river running far down below. In the morning, the bees began their busy work flitting from flower to flower and squirrels chattered in branches high above.

So much beauty in such a short time.

Isn’t summer just like that? Maybe life is too, in some ways. Raising four littles, I’ve often heard the saying, “The days are long but the years are short”. No kidding. Heading into a new school year with these four, I can see that we’re well into the next season of life. Cute sayings and silly happenings, spills and fights, laughter and tears — they happen differently now than they used to, and that’s okay.

We find ourselves entering the dance with big kids and young teenagers. I’m learning as I go, and sometimes it feels like I’m flying blind. More often than I’d like to admit, I’m clumsy and don’t always get the steps right but praise the Lord for His grace in each moment as I learn the lifelong lesson of letting go.

Shades of autumn will give way to the silvery touch of winter. I can see the edges of it in my eyes and in my hair. What will become of the home we once had? What will become of the relationships forged in the fires of this family? Will they grow together or apart? Will they remain deeply rooted and established in the love of Christ? Or will they forget their first love after all?

As we begin a new school year, my prayers are going far beyond friends and schoolwork to the growing-up of these young people God has placed within our care. So many things in life are beyond my control, but I know the One who holds it all together, so I turn to Him with my heart’s cry:

Lord, in Your mercy, hear my prayer. 

Tend to my sweet children today. Protect them in every way. Remind them of Your deep love for them. Draw them in to take hold of life’s true treasure, and cover them with Your grace. Give them courage and wisdom as they learn from their own mistakes and the mistakes of others. Open their ears to good counsel, and help them discern the lies that entangle. May they find their strength in You. Jesus, be near each one today. Bless them and keep them, make Your face shine upon them and be gracious to them. Lord, give them peace. Help me to love them well, the way You have loved me. And when suffering comes, remind them of who You are, and who they are because of You.

In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Autumn in view (image: mine)

Thankful

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That little sunflower, the one from April that nearly drowned after my earnest 7 year old cared a little too much for it, is three feet tall now.

It stands guard at our front window, watching the sun cross the sky from morning ’til night, a stalwart reminder of resilience in the face of trials of too much water, not enough water, hungry critters, heat that rivalled the desert, and now the kiss of frost.

I’ve often said that I don’t garden because I’m good at it; I garden because it teaches me things. Every year I marvel at the wonders the Lord brings out of my feeble efforts to grow beautiful and delicious things. I’m slowly realizing that it really isn’t me that’s doing the work. Some plants that I thought would thrive have long since shrivelled up, and the ones that I had little hope for are still blooming in Technicolor as the last few weeks of summer fade into the glory of fall.

We are not self-made. Each of us is a garden of hopes and dreams, where ones we think will thrive die off and ones that were planted without a thought grow tall and strong and beautiful, surprising us with a fragrance of life that fills our senses and thrills us beyond measure. God’s goodness is truly astounding!

While roses and sunflowers bloom and carrots and beets sweeten in the frosty night air, the golden and amber paintbrush of fall begins to touch the edges of the landscape.

Thanksgiving is on the horizon and it’s all too fast for me, to be honest. That’s usually when the initial waves of cold and flu season are slamming our home, school and fall commitments are ramping up and the urgency of the final days of warm weather pull us outside as often as possible. Nearly a decade ago I began a tradition of Three Weeks of Thanks, where we spend the three weeks before Thanksgiving intentionally focussing on gratitude and preparing our hearts. In years past, we’ve done handprint leaves out of construction paper with the things we’re thankful written on them. They go up on the wall under a “tree” of sorts, as if they’re gently whirling to the ground. I already know what mine will say.

Our eldest is a pre-teen. Our youngest is off to kindergarten this year. And the in-betweeners are in the thick of elementary-age experiences. No longer are the wee hours of the morning fraught with spills and potty accidents, nor are the evenings quiet with kids in bed early. It’s easy to write a blog when your kids are little; the material writes itself! There are so many adorable moments and I’m glad I’ve recorded some, but as they get older, the stories are shifting. My children are becoming their own people and I’m learning so much about them and myself as we grow together.

That means this space is shifting too. Gone are the days of a young mama sharing about sleepless nights and applesauce smears, here are the days of a late-thirties mom of four learning to trust the One who made these sweet ones to take care of them in the way that only He can.

For this journey, I am thankful.

Thank You Jesus for these hopes and dreams that are thriving right in front of me. I am fully aware that these aren’t by my hand but Yours. You are the Master Gardener, and I’m living proof that Your plans are far better than mine ever were.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. He chose to give us birth through the word of truth, that we might be a kind of firstfruits of all he created.” James 1:17-18 NIV

Image: Stocksnap

Marking Milestones

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And now, summer.

A change in rhythm, a welcome break from the beautiful things that fill our calendar through fall, winter and spring with more space to breathe deep the sweetness of the season, more time to explore new places, more freedom to linger a little longer.

In the coming weeks, we’ll reach another milestone in raising our family: our youngest will join his three older sisters as a school-aged kid with a whole new world to discover. For more than a decade I’ve carried and cared for our babies, toddlers and preschoolers and it has been worth all the blood, sweat and tears so far. Perusing older posts with the stories of life with four kids under the age of six, I’m in awe of how the Lord has provided what I have needed in the moments I needed it most! I found these words I wrote four years ago when the pressure of raising small children was at its peak:

The other day, the older kids were fighting and spilled blueberry applesauce all over the carpet. After cleaning it up, they trotted outside as friends again (nothing like a shared chore to encourage sibling bonding), where one promptly did a trick on the swings and ended up with a possible fracture. I heard the shrieking from inside the house where at the very same time the baby was having a meltdown while I was cleaning up a potty accident from our three year old who was ill. 

While we’re in the thick of a challenging season, we don’t even know that the whole time He is carrying us! It’s only when we find ourselves in between the waves and we have a minute to breathe that we realize we’re still afloat.

In a world that values filters and highlight reels, I’m thankful for authentic reminders of God’s goodness to me in times past. As we mark this family milestone with a celebration of our youngest, I’m praying that I won’t forget these lessons I’ve learned in these early years. We have a long way to go before they’re grown, and I may have no idea what challenges lie ahead, but I know the Lord and I’m confident that He will hold me fast throughout the journey.

Image: Bob Richards/Stocksnap

No Night

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As the younger three kids rip around the house before 8am deep in a game of hide and seek, I open the fridge to grab the milk for breakfast and discover an inspirational dollar store magnet stuck between the doors. I pull it out and pop it on the front, taking note of its message. 

“Love grows here”, it says. When it fell to the ground and broke long ago I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away. It still fit together, though a few little pieces were missing, so I pulled out some clear tape and secured it before putting it back on the fridge. I like it better now; it feels more authentic to me.

Sometimes I wonder what kind of memories my kids will have of growing up in our home. Everyone experiences the same things differently, don’t they? Each one has a different personality, way of seeing the world, needs, wants, goals and dreams. With four young humans in our care, my prayer and patience muscles get a daily workout and my heart has grown many sizes beyond what I thought possible. Parenting can feel like one giant guessing game where you don’t quite know if you were right until years later. Praise the Lord that He is gracious, working and moving in the areas I simply can’t see or anticipate. Love definitely lives here, imperfect, but still secure in the One who made us and put us together in the first place.

We are in the stretch of the year now where night never comes; we just move from twilight to twilight throughout the wee hours of the day until the fiery, life-giving sun peeks over the edge of the city for another long, warm, slow journey across the sky. Late into the evening now, its light is never quite gone. Just as it dips below the horizon and the edge of the day disappears in the west, the hint of dawn begins to creep along the eastern horizon, stars winking across the inky blue zenith before they fade with the gradual return of the light.

So much beauty while we rest and rejuvenate for a brand new day, a reminder that the grace of God never stops even while life is bumping along at a grand pace and we’re running to keep up.

Love grows here, friends. Even when we can’t see it. Even when we don’t understand. Even when things go sideways and we can’t imagine how it’s all going to turn out.

And even when we’re in a season of no night – no true darkness – just light around the edges of each day marked by the warmth of the sun, God’s love holds us fast. We know without a shadow of a doubt that He is our light and our salvation; we have nothing to fear when trouble comes.

Psalm 27 reminds us:

The Lord is my light and my salvation—
whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life—
of whom shall I be afraid?
When the wicked advance against me
to devour me,
it is my enemies and my foes
who will stumble and fall.
Though an army besiege me,
my heart will not fear;
though war break out against me,
even then I will be confident.

One thing I ask from the Lord,
this only do I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
all the days of my life,
to gaze on the beauty of the Lord
and to seek him in his temple.
For in the day of trouble
he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
he will hide me in the shelter of his sacred tent
and set me high upon a rock.

Then my head will be exalted
above the enemies who surround me;
at his sacred tent I will sacrifice with shouts of joy;
I will sing and make music to the Lord.

Hear my voice when I call, Lord;
be merciful to me and answer me.
My heart says of you, “Seek his face!”
Your face, Lord, I will seek.
Do not hide your face from me,
do not turn your servant away in anger;
you have been my helper.
Do not reject me or forsake me,
God my Savior.
Though my father and mother forsake me,
the Lord will receive me.
Teach me your way, Lord;
lead me in a straight path
because of my oppressors.
Do not turn me over to the desire of my foes,
for false witnesses rise up against me,
spouting malicious accusations.

I remain confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the Lord
in the land of the living.
Wait for the Lord;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the Lord.

Love grows here

Brave Enough

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“What we perceive to be holding us back may actually be the catalyst for the deeper, lasting change we desperately need.

Can we make room for it? Are we brave enough to let ourselves be interrupted by what is better?”
–March 28, 2019

My own words written three years ago, a lesson I am still learning to put into practice. 

I set aside a couple of weekend mornings each month to write. This particular morning, my coffee was made, the engine of my mind was in first gear, my fingers were itching to tap out my thoughts on a blank sheet, and the old school cartoons were on for the kids.

I sat down beside our youngest for a minute to give him a little side-squeeze and a kiss and he looked up at me with his bright blue eyes and said, “Can you watch with me, Mom?”

So often, I’ve blown right past such an invitation. In fact, my default position on such things is, “I’m just going to do this one thing, okay?” which stretches into several things and before I know it, the moment is gone.

Let’s be honest. Sometimes you just have to say no for all kinds of good reasons. Every day made up of thousands of little choices that reflect the current reality I’m living, and every time a request comes I have to weigh it before making a decision. This morning, I weighed the decision before me and I knew that it would be a mistake to turn this little guy down. We cuddled up together, and before long, like a magnet, the other three kids found their way onto the couch too. Each one, with their own unique and beautiful design, settled down beside us, close enough for hugs and back scratches.

It won’t always be like this, I know. One day these little birdies will fly and I’ll cheer them on from the nest but for today, I’m taking the opportunity to soak up all the snuggles. What makes it possible to continue on, day after day, with all the different needs and wants of each one?

The beautiful grace of Jesus in one tiny three-letter word.

GET.

I don’t have to do these things; I get to do these things, even the hard things. I get to hear about their day, help them navigate their world, give them the tools to carry into adulthood, pray for them, love them, delight in them, cheer them on.

This one simple mindset change can make all the difference between a child who grows up feeling like a burden to the entire world and a child who knows they are deeply loved no matter what.

Years ago when we first had little babies, my mother-in-law said something that marked my heart: “I love having a front-row seat to my kids’ lives!”. Her exuberant joy of cheering on her kids and grandkids in the different ages and stages has impacted how I view this life I’ve been given.

It does not come without great cost, but it is worth more than gold.

“Mom! This is a scary part! Come sit with me!” My 4 year old calls me back to cuddle on the couch for a few more minutes. I return to my own words, written long before this morning’s cuddles on the couch:

What we perceive to be holding us back may actually be the catalyst for the deeper, lasting change we desperately need. 

Can we make room for it? Are we brave enough to let ourselves be interrupted by what is better?

Lord, may I always learn to embrace what is better!

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” -Galatians 6:9 (NIV)

Photo by one of the kids