tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91137012466996913152024-03-19T06:17:52.367-04:00Guilty Chocoholic MamaFaith, food, family...and, occasionally, some funnyElizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.comBlogger568125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-43967432606736281352023-04-14T19:50:00.000-04:002023-04-14T19:50:34.513-04:00 Looking At Our Big Kids, We Still See Our Babies, Too<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIKyvsP__FFzcSPyCH7FI9olBYOqumTIChWpiwThkrJJpRUd9VjbTQ6ix7ySBhSyqGwjn2HPX5ndXJLXijVpZI0UsylTjvlUma9jHseUIdc__w_8oznEnwzdlAWUlf0mvppABEwYjLxMtrNqvUS4KKRSLON1Zi4e9-PEZW7ZFu76OSsp-TJSWyVpmorA/s2807/80169863-F359-4213-AF4D-761066F3C868_1_201_a.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2404" data-original-width="2807" height="343" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIKyvsP__FFzcSPyCH7FI9olBYOqumTIChWpiwThkrJJpRUd9VjbTQ6ix7ySBhSyqGwjn2HPX5ndXJLXijVpZI0UsylTjvlUma9jHseUIdc__w_8oznEnwzdlAWUlf0mvppABEwYjLxMtrNqvUS4KKRSLON1Zi4e9-PEZW7ZFu76OSsp-TJSWyVpmorA/w400-h343/80169863-F359-4213-AF4D-761066F3C868_1_201_a.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">When I went to my daughter’s senior dance recital a couple years ago, I saw my grown-up dancer. I saw her strong, lovely limbs and her intricate movements. I saw her almost-adult self, moving with confidence and skill across that particular stage for the last time</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">But I also saw the little girl with bangs and purple glasses in a blue tutu who danced first.</span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">This is how it is, being the parent of older kids: we watch our grown children step into the spotlight and celebrate accomplishments and embrace new seasons, and we take it all in.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">But in our mind’s eye, we also see how it all began.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them asleep on our couch when they’re home for the weekend or the summer or a holiday…and we also see them asleep in their cribs.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them at one of their last check-ups with their pediatrician, legs dangling over the edge of the exam table…and we also see them strapped into their car seat as we carried them in for their first newborn well-check.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them wearing clothes close to ours in size…and we also see them wearing tiny onesies and footed sleepers.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them dive into the deep end of the pool…and we also see them in beginning swim class, water wings firmly tugged on.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them behind the wheel of a car…and we also see them riding their first bike with training wheels.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them hit a home run…and we also see them slugging away at t-ball.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them laughing with friends at a football game…and we also see them at the park or on the school playground, taking turns on the slide or the climbing wall with other children we hope might become their friends.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them play a part or sing a solo…and we also see them in their construction-paper Pilgrim costume, delivering their one line in the class play.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them going to prom…and we also see them dancing on our feet in our living room.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them standing on a graduation stage in their cap and gown…and we also see them in miniature versions of these, beaming as they grasped their preschool or kindergarten diploma.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them walking onto a college campus…and we also see them walking into an elementary school classroom.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them stooping down to hug us…and we also see them lifting their arms up to us, wanting to be picked up and carried.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them as teachers, artists, mechanics, engineers, fire fighters, nurses, business owners, counselors, cooks…and we also see them playing pretend versions of these, long before "what I want to be when I grow up" became reality.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them coming down a wedding aisle…and we also see them dressing up as the bride or groom.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them holding their babies in their arms…and we also see them as babes in our arms.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Then, too, we see them in the in-betweens…in the dots that connect the past and present of their lives.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them on the nights they couldn’t sleep, when we slept on their bedroom floor in hopes our presence would somehow comfort like an unsung lullaby.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them when they took (and failed) their first driving test.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them taking a hundred practice swings in the backyard.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them taking chances on friendship.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them wearing their favorite shirt AGAIN.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them at the doctor for emergency stitches after they tipped too far back in their little plastic chair and gashed the back of their head on the fireplace hearth.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them smiling proudly the first time they swam all on their own strength (which does not always happen in a pool).</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them learning their lines and notes.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them not being asked to prom.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them graduating from sippy cups and booster seats and the children’s menu and the kiddie area at the amusement park.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them walking up to someone who looks lonely and easing that loneliness.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them lifting us up.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them studying and learning how to be…anything.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them giving and receiving love.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see them caring for others.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We see our grown-up babies as they are and as they were, both at the same time.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> This double vision is one of the profound privileges of parenthood: We know how our children’s stories began, and so we have deeper appreciation for new chapters as they’re written. We turn to fresh pages in their life books — but we still keep a finger in the opening pages, too.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">That night, I sat in a darkened auditorium and watched my teenager take a familiar stage for the last time. I saw her as she was in that moment and as she had been a thousand moments that had come before it.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I also saw a glimpse of who she might become. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">It will be a beautiful sight.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX1kbNAE64zIQ_P3RN975zCFOXcIs5s2kguV3kK2tGcUAUAByR3xHb9TKvryDAPqQJ1684E_LyP-9nDvwd1aPiGXmbl_3KVK8npQ9fkt_p1JaRgT-hBqjepQ3QTmwKGj915MSHbHfoE8tk2KuBc8HpB7Zc4w90eUYJhm8bGKJZSgIwpq14AJkE5bm0Mg/s1536/8984E4F3-38BB-4D15-8138-5438B6F29FDD.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="756" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX1kbNAE64zIQ_P3RN975zCFOXcIs5s2kguV3kK2tGcUAUAByR3xHb9TKvryDAPqQJ1684E_LyP-9nDvwd1aPiGXmbl_3KVK8npQ9fkt_p1JaRgT-hBqjepQ3QTmwKGj915MSHbHfoE8tk2KuBc8HpB7Zc4w90eUYJhm8bGKJZSgIwpq14AJkE5bm0Mg/s320/8984E4F3-38BB-4D15-8138-5438B6F29FDD.jpeg" width="158" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>A version of this post first appeared on <a href="https://www.collegiateparent.com/family-life/when-we-look-at-our-big-kids/" target="_blank">CollegiateParent</a>.</i></span></span></p>Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-59667801385389853682021-05-11T07:58:00.000-04:002021-05-11T07:58:31.231-04:00Mom and Dad, I Need You To Love Me Through This<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsyOhslUK_j4pFY4nQZEETHI3o3ED3hUNmZKo6DJ32rXso7PCdaFbUsVviVJHl0Z9z5acpzGoR1xZcIzhCCCxqCpai1AJ6m-d830zo18RnEDmo5brfbp_qgC_C3hNjqcaZnZ88M_L-UY3U/s1920/backpack-1836594_1920.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1920" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsyOhslUK_j4pFY4nQZEETHI3o3ED3hUNmZKo6DJ32rXso7PCdaFbUsVviVJHl0Z9z5acpzGoR1xZcIzhCCCxqCpai1AJ6m-d830zo18RnEDmo5brfbp_qgC_C3hNjqcaZnZ88M_L-UY3U/w640-h426/backpack-1836594_1920.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Hey, mom and dad.<br /><br />I’m sorry I yelled this morning. I’m sorry for what I said. I'm sorry for the way I said it.<br /><br />I know I’ve been a little hard to live with lately. Or maybe a lot hard.<br /><br />I know I’m moody.<br /><br />I know my room is a mess.<br /><br />I know we disagree a lot.<br /><br />I know you don’t understand some of the things I do.<br /><br />I know you don’t always like how I dress.<br /><br />I know I let you down sometimes.<br /><br />I know I’m expensive.<br /><br />I know my schedule runs you ragged.<br /><br />I know my music doesn’t make sense to you.<br /><br />I know you’re never sure what version of me you’re going to see on any given morning.<br /><br />I know it feels like I’m pulling away from you.<br /><br />I know you don’t know what to expect from me next.<br /><br />I know I can drive you crazy.<br /><br />I know you miss the days when I was little and fit on your lap.<br /><br />I know this is hard for you.<br /><br />But the thing is, it’s hard for me, too.<br /><br />Do you remember this kind of hard?<br /><br />Do you remember not knowing what kind of mood you were going to be in from one hour to the next, let alone one day to the next?<br /><br />Do you remember feeling like you wanted to cry, laugh, scream, run, sleep, talk, and hide, all at the same time?<br /><br />Do you remember wondering why you acted the way you did sometimes?<br /><br />Do you remember feeling like your brain and your body were going two completely different speeds?<br /><br />Do you remember not being sure if the people who were your friends one day would still be your friends the next?<br /><br />Do you remember having no idea what you were going to do with the rest of your life even though everybody seemed to expect you to have it all figured out?<br /><br />Do you remember feeling awkward and ugly and unsure of yourself while everyone else your age acted confident and put-together?<br /><br />Do you remember wanting to fit in and stand out all at the same time?<br /><br />Do you remember wanting to be noticed but also wanting to be invisible?<br /><br />I need you to remember all this. Because I need you to love me through this.<br /><br />I need you to believe in me even when—especially when—I don’t believe in myself.<br /><br />I need you to guide me, even when act like I resent that guidance.<br /><br />I need you to cheer for me.<br /><br />I need you to trust me.<br /><br />I need you to make me earn that trust.<br /><br />I need you to have thick skin.<br /><br />I need you to have a soft heart that can still give out tough love.<br /><br />I need you to help my not-fully-cooked brain think further down the road than it would on its own.<br /><br />I need you to set boundaries.<br /><br />I need you to let me deal with the consequences of my actions.<br /><br />I need you to help me pick up the pieces of the consequences of my actions.<br /><br />I need you to be proud of me, even when I’m ashamed of myself.<br /><br />I need you to love me even if sometimes you don’t like me.<br /><br />I need you to remember that I care what you think of me more than I care what anyone else thinks of me, even if I tell you at the top of my lungs I don’t care at all.<br /><br />I need you to remember that you matter to me—maybe more than anyone else in the world—even if I act like I don’t want anything to do with you.<br /><br />I need you to remember that I need you.<br /><br />I need you to remember that I love you.<br /><br />I know this is asking a lot. I know I’m asking you to give more than you’re getting. I know I’m going to frustrate and fail and disappoint you sometimes along the way. <br /><br />But when we get to the other side, I also think we’ll know and remember this: we got there together. <br /><br /><br /><i><span style="color: #444444; font-size: x-small;">A version of this post originally appeared on <a href="https://herviewfromhome.com/dear-mom-this-is-what-i-need-you-to-remember-now-that-im-a-teenager/" target="_blank">Her View From Home</a>.</span></i></span>Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-43884057380275124022021-04-12T14:57:00.000-04:002021-04-12T14:57:13.651-04:00My Teenager Taught Me New Ways To Love<span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBzatRutiC9Mo6N93oqDGY6wwGP9roabVl09woINRp4qMOC0dcFHBtxF2Eq7w1bFwkiS2KRfB6zaWzbt5x1UWrmJFVN0hZUqDMuE90eXsWg0higvZaze5UfQh7O6TzQQk-jfUxr5bGwH7P/s2048/FBBAC26F-7D7D-4CAB-8B2A-C29498DF6101_1_201_a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1678" data-original-width="2048" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBzatRutiC9Mo6N93oqDGY6wwGP9roabVl09woINRp4qMOC0dcFHBtxF2Eq7w1bFwkiS2KRfB6zaWzbt5x1UWrmJFVN0hZUqDMuE90eXsWg0higvZaze5UfQh7O6TzQQk-jfUxr5bGwH7P/w400-h328/FBBAC26F-7D7D-4CAB-8B2A-C29498DF6101_1_201_a.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /></div>I don’t love my children the same way. <br /><br />At least, I don't if “love” is more often an action than it is a feeling. (And I truly believe that's the case.)<br /><br />I love—the <i>feeling</i>—both my children fiercely and deeply in equal measure, if a mother’s love is something that can actually be measured. <br /><br />But I do not love—the <i>action</i>—my children in the same way, because love has to look and sound like something to the person being loved, and my two children see and hear love in different ways. <br /><br />Not long ago, my teenager taught me some new ways to love. <br /><br />Loving my first baby through the teenage years did not really prepare me for walking through those years with her younger sister. My older daughter is my pleaser, my child who has me listed as “mommy” on her phone and jokes we won’t have to worry about her coming home for Christmas when she’s an adult because she’s never going to have left in the first place. <br /><br />My second and last baby is my strong-spirited child who often prefers quick side hugs and who’s called me “mom” for a long time. She’s fascinating and intricate and determined and so insightful. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">She’s a complex puzzle worth putting together and a dance worth every tricky step.</span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">But parenting her has been an intense experience. </span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />With her, I needed to find ways to love a child I wasn't always sure even liked me. I needed to learn how to give out love that was not always obviously given back. <br /><br />This was love the choice, the decision, the action, and I had to learn how to do it as I went along.<br /><br />I learned to still say the words “I love you.” I learned to say them even when I didn't feel like saying them. I learned to say them when they were only returned with a mumbled “love you” as my daughter bolted out of the car in the school drop-off line. I learned to say them when they were not returned or acknowledged at all. I learned to still say them, because no matter what, they were (and are) still true. <br /><br />I learned to speak love in other languages. I learned to speak it in the dialects of small gifts and acts of service. I spoke it by stocking up on the protein bars my high-schooler took for lunch every day and by washing her dance clothes, babying them along on the gentle cycle and pulling them out of the load before it got thrown into the dryer. And sometimes, I spoke love by forcing myself not to say anything at all. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">I learned</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> to show love by showing up. My daughter was stoic and stone-faced and made no eye contact when she filed past me sitting in the stands at her marching band competitions. She did not get out of line to come give me a hug or even say hello when I handed out third-quarter snacks to her bandmates after they played their halftime show. <br /><br />At her awards ceremonies, there was no option of a photo-op with her smiling proudly, standing between her dad and me and displaying the certificate we added to the collection we'd started in kindergarten. But I kept showing up for those things anyway, because love shows up. I kept showing up because whether or not it mattered to her that I was there, it mattered to me that she knew I was there. And I kept showing up because there is power in presence. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">I learned </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">to love by taking what I could get with gratitude. One early morning, when my daughter got in the car for the ride to school, she surprised me by enthusiastically asking, “Did you smell the air? Did you smell the Froot Loops?” (We live near Battle Creek, Mich., the Cereal Capital of the World, where the air some mornings does, in fact, smell like Froot Loops.) <br /><br />Her question caught me off guard that day because morning conversations were usually limited to me asking when she needed to be picked up and her responding with the fewest number of words necessary for communicating information that would keep her life on track. That day, I could have answered her tersely, as she often did when I ask her about something. I could have reigned in my response in anticipation of being rebuffed. But instead, I made myself take the moment for what it was. <br /><br />By grace, I matched her enthusiasm and told her, “Yes! I did! Isn’t it great that we live in a place where this is what we get to smell in the mornings?” I learned to receive gifts of interaction and connection as they were offered, not because I was groveling but because I was trying to be grateful. <br /><br />I learned to love by reinforcing the good. At the last home football game of her last marching band season, my drum line girl was in a familiar funk. Also familiar: I had no idea what the problem was. I asked if she was okay even though the answer was obvious, and she muttered something about a cramp and wandered off. We picked her up at the end of the night, and her ear buds immediately went in as usual, but when we got home and were walking into the house, she said, “Oh, Mom, I wanted to let you know that I did have that weird cramp and I thought the rest of the night was going to be miserable, but I ended up laughing with my friends and having a really good time.” <br /><br />“I’m so glad to know that,” I told her. “Thank you for telling me.” In that particular season, there was much I wanted from my daughter that I didn't get. So when she gave me something I wanted more of, I learned to put an exclamation point on it. <br /><br />Loving my incredibly wonderful but sometimes prickly teen was tough sledding at times. Even now, I'm still never quite sure how things are going to play out. But here again—as in all of parenting and, well, in all of <i>life</i>—I have to remind myself that my job is not the outcome; my job is the input.</span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">So I'll remember these lessons from the past and carry them into the present and future. I'll keep trying to learn how to love in new ways. I’ll keep inputting love while I hold fiercely to hope that the outcome will be love received and love given back.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>A version of this piece first appeared on <a href="https://grownandflown.com/prickly-teen-teaching-new-ways-love/" target="_blank">Grown and Flown</a>. </i></span><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br /><br /></span></div></div></div>Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-45900075828861494122021-04-10T08:51:00.001-04:002021-04-10T08:54:37.739-04:00Aiming For Zero<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbyKPK2WuR2CBheLRzB2op4cu1Oi-EpPVGWW6U6p-p1kmX8wnUKUdk34P1oIDrtLE1-WzKgWKm4rbm2vgjyY3BGB7ZJACElqwwZ1R86259IR9-TFkBUyq9Lvno9Ed0Xt0AaBDQkZYg3LJL/s1920/gauge-4601454_1920.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1920" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbyKPK2WuR2CBheLRzB2op4cu1Oi-EpPVGWW6U6p-p1kmX8wnUKUdk34P1oIDrtLE1-WzKgWKm4rbm2vgjyY3BGB7ZJACElqwwZ1R86259IR9-TFkBUyq9Lvno9Ed0Xt0AaBDQkZYg3LJL/w400-h400/gauge-4601454_1920.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The other day, my college early-childhood/early-elementary senior education major had a sub job at a school not far from her campus. She’d already met all of her substitute teaching requirements for her major: she was only doing the job to get her last few required observation hours.</span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">On account of Covid and the fact that observing anything in person had become a hundred times trickier, I’d joked to her that she’d been trying to accumulate those hours since fifth grade.</span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">“Feels like it," she told me.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The morning of her job, when I sent her a text to encourage her for the day, I told her, "You're on your way to zero!"<br /><br />Normally, in our family, we are big on <a href="https://guiltychocoholicmama.blogspot.com/2020/04/these-are-better-than-zero-days.html" target="_blank">better than zero</a>: aiming for anything more than a flat-out goose egg. But I told my daughter that, in this case, achieving the day’s goal would be even <i>better </i>than better than zero.</span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Which got me to thinking that there are some other things in life I'm aiming for zero on. <br /><br />Zero days when my family goes to bed at night not having felt loved during the day. <br /><br />Zero words from me that create a wound that never quite heals up.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Zero unforgiveness I think is making someone else sorry for what they did but is, in fact, only making me my own prisoner.<br /><br />Zero chances to show love that I don’t take. <br /><br />Zero would’ve, could’ve, or should’ve when I’m going after a good goal whose outcome I cannot control but whose input I can. <br /><br />Zero settling for lukewarm faith. <br /><br />Zero assumptions another day on this earth is guaranteed to me. <br /><br />Zero taking my health for granted. <br /><br />Zero missed opportunities to encourage someone or make their life a little easier.<br /><br />Of course, “aiming” is the crux of the matter here. I’m going to miss on these sometimes...more than likely, a LOT of times. I’m going to hit one or 100.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">But a wise friend of mine says, “If you aim at nothing, you’re sure to hit it.” </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">I’m not really aiming at nothing here. I’m aiming at something that looks like zero, but would, in fact, be everything.</span></div></div></div>Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-3646088098341986712021-04-05T20:41:00.000-04:002021-04-05T20:41:57.684-04:00I’ll Keep Doing Things For My Kids They Can Do For Themselves<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI6sG9iIkZn2p0dkqLwEivt0wg8ct1Y-Y4oPHpRNtr-6L6tNbeae6Nwm64oQPZ1xFTQGYc4uPRGhiePQhdwDRkzm-707a3Swrz6ry7cWZH6QrwplzfgZAN6jsnoVKxjCi8Fmz3ctLWmlcR/s2048/19023248_1348243901896584_751451581145208694_o.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI6sG9iIkZn2p0dkqLwEivt0wg8ct1Y-Y4oPHpRNtr-6L6tNbeae6Nwm64oQPZ1xFTQGYc4uPRGhiePQhdwDRkzm-707a3Swrz6ry7cWZH6QrwplzfgZAN6jsnoVKxjCi8Fmz3ctLWmlcR/w400-h300/19023248_1348243901896584_751451581145208694_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>The other night, my teenager asked me, “I was wondering—and it’s totally fine if you say no—but I was wondering if maybe you could make me those oatmeal pancakes for breakfast tomorrow?”<br /><br />I could. And I did.</span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />Of course she could have made her own breakfast. She does, in fact, make her own breakfast other mornings when I can’t and don’t.<br /><br />She didn’t actually need me to make her breakfast that day, but doing it for her smoothed out the edges of a morning that was headed toward rough.<br /><br />And after I made those pancakes, I also packed her a lunch and threw in a load of her dance laundry.<br /><br />I did some things for her that she can do for herself.<br /><br />I made life a little easier for her.<br /><br />Before anyone reminds me, I know I’m supposed to teach my kids to fend for themselves, to be independent, and, most of all, to not need me (much) anymore. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">According to a lot of articles I see out there in parent media land, I’m not “supposed” to do things for them they can do for themselves.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /><br />And I understand. I get it. I even agree, mostly. We have these children to hold them, but we raise them to release them—and we need to equip and prepare them for that releasing.<br /><br />My teen does fend for herself. She is independent. She rarely needs me anymore. She runs a solid 90% of her own life and does it so well, I joke she should run for president someday. (Hello, First Mother?)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />But when she asked if I’d make her those pancakes, I did it, and gladly. And I’ll do it again, as often as possible.<br /><br />I’ll keep doing things for her she can do for herself. I’ll make her breakfast and pack her lunch and do her laundry. She knows full well how to do these things. She does do these things. But I’ll keep doing them for her a lot of the time while she does so many things I can’t and shouldn’t do for her.<br /><br />I can’t—and wouldn’t—go to school and navigate the minefield of high school friendships.<br /><br />I can’t deal with peer pressure and annoying classmates and incomprehensible geometry and public displays of affection and cringe-inducing dress code violations, all before 9 a.m.<br /> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I can’t decide what she wants to be when she grows up when the push to already have figured that out AND to have job-shadowed in that area AND to have decided where she'll go to grad school so she can be competitive in that field is coming from almost every direction.<br /><br />I can’t run after her dreams and do what has to be done to make them a reality.<br /><br />I can’t practice patience and kindness and self-control when teenage stress, exhaustion, and hormones—so many hormones—are bearing down hard.<br /><br />I can’t balance 14 hours most weekdays of academics and extracurriculars and relationships with friends and family, all of them requiring dedication and determination.<br /><br />My teenager is the only one who can do these things that matter now and matter for her future.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />But I can make pancakes for her. And so, that morning, I did. Not because she wouldn't, but because I was willing. Not because she couldn't, but because I could. Not because making breakfast is some grand, magnanimous gesture, but because this is how we do family. I do things all the time for my husband that he can do for himself, as he does for me. My own parents still do many things for me that I can do for myself. This isn't a scorecard we're keeping here; it's just love. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Of course, love wants the best for those it holds dear, and so I want my teenager to be able to take care of herself when I'm not around to do it. That's what's best for her. <br /><br />But when the time comes, this child who will always be a little bit my baby won’t be any less ready for life without me on a daily basis just because I made her a few breakfasts or washed a few dance leotards for her.<br /><br />On the other hand, though, maybe I'll be a little readier for life without her at my kitchen table every morning if I do for her what I can do—even if she can do it for herself—while I still have the chance.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">A version of this article first appeared on <a href="https://yourteenmag.com/family-life/communication/parenting-my-teenage" target="_blank">Your Teen For Parents</a>.</span></i></span></div>Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-3981178953201913282021-03-15T07:47:00.001-04:002021-11-17T06:41:59.688-05:00Looking For My Children . . . And Being Found By Them<span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj46W3ASitHjoAl4tDMzIEOxZnj0N3tQmHurk3Ks0vLS18AZt_erTlh-RcqapcwmEK3nzEJk0xrRYVTPTOE5O2FAXmwvtsLzCTYPZCi5hpY_dRXBVcRo1ejGvNHXvpf8qifS6mo10AOXBkG/s744/58376784_2380547298834592_3177286874230161408_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="744" data-original-width="744" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj46W3ASitHjoAl4tDMzIEOxZnj0N3tQmHurk3Ks0vLS18AZt_erTlh-RcqapcwmEK3nzEJk0xrRYVTPTOE5O2FAXmwvtsLzCTYPZCi5hpY_dRXBVcRo1ejGvNHXvpf8qifS6mo10AOXBkG/w400-h400/58376784_2380547298834592_3177286874230161408_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />One morning several summers ago, my then-college daughter was backing her car out of our driveway just as I was turning in on foot. I’d left the house for my daily walk up and down our country road without seeing her or telling her goodbye before she left for her nannying job, so when I saw her heading to her car from my vantage point a little ways down the street, I circled back to send her off.<br /><br />As we met at the end of our drive, she put her window down and told me, "I was coming to look for you!"<br /><br />My daughter didn’t need anything from me. Nothing was wrong. She didn’t have anything she had to tell me. She just wanted to say goodbye, just for the day. So she was coming to look for me.</span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />As parents, we look for our children their whole lives.<br /><br />We look for those telltale lines on a pregnancy test or for a phone call from the adoption agency. We look for our babies to be born. We look to make sure they’re breathing in their cribs. We look for them when we play peekaboo or hide-and-seek. We look for them “hiding” in plain sight with their hands over their eyes, thinking that because they can’t see us, we can’t see them. They don’t know yet that we always see them, even when it’s just in our mind’s eye.<br /><br />We look, frantically, for our children when they sometimes wander off at the grocery store or the library or the playground — in that one split second when we aren’t looking.<br /><br />We look for them when they come out of school or get off the bus, trying to gauge what kind of day they’ve had by what we see on their faces…hoping for some advance notice of whether we’re going to need to commiserate or congratulate.<br /><br />If they are dancers, we look for them in recitals and try to pick them out of all the other ballerinas wearing the same costume and doing the same moves (parents of little boy dancers may have an easier time of this). If they are athletes, we look for them on playing fields and try to find them among the uniforms that are aptly named because they all blend together. If they are musicians or actors, we look for them to emerge from the wings and take their place on stage.<br /><br />When our teenagers learn to drive, we look for “I’m here” texts and for headlights turning into the driveway at night, and we breathe a sigh of relief every time.<br /><br />We look for them, eventually, in a long line of gowned graduates processing into a stadium or gymnasium at a high school commencement.<br /><br />We look for them when they come home from college or jobs or their own homes. We look for them coming up the sidewalk or through the arrival gate at the airport.<br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">It is a privilege, this looking.<br /><br />It speaks of relationship and connection and of our place in our children’s lives that no one else occupies. But at some point—usually on some ordinary day when we’re doing ordinary things, like taking a morning walk—our big kids start looking for us, too.<br /><br />They look for us in the crowd at their ceremonies and celebrations. They look for us when we’re away and they’re the ones at home, waiting for us. They look, sometimes, for our advice. They look for our confirmation that they’ve done the right thing. They look for our reassurance that we still love them even when they’ve done the wrong thing. They look for our comfort and our presence.<br /><br />And when this happens—when the children we’ve sought their whole lives start seeking us—we know we’ve found something new and wonderful. Something we were looking for, all along.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"><i>A version of this post originally appeared on <a href="https://www.collegiateparent.com/parent-blog/i-will-always-look-for-my-children/" target="_blank">CollegiateParent</a>.</i></span></div>Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-563047026156412462021-02-20T12:40:00.001-05:002021-02-20T12:50:12.576-05:007 Good Things To Tell Yourself When You're Having a Bad Day As a Mom<span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinlv0nqwl8nWDrGBXNHKUb0iwKKRlEXzdB6VZMWPRYBAmDjCN-TpD4VD8HOcWmbokyi1x9IdHhkFyrxWCg7GbC2Uys0dpJnr7J5wBOV7I_-zJFWXTsfeGcRIlNoLr-wzeAHz3HuwWUxDtK/s1920/woman-1814968_1920.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1920" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinlv0nqwl8nWDrGBXNHKUb0iwKKRlEXzdB6VZMWPRYBAmDjCN-TpD4VD8HOcWmbokyi1x9IdHhkFyrxWCg7GbC2Uys0dpJnr7J5wBOV7I_-zJFWXTsfeGcRIlNoLr-wzeAHz3HuwWUxDtK/w640-h426/woman-1814968_1920.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />The best gift I’ve ever gotten from my children was a yellow sticky note left for me on my kitchen counter. It read, “We love you.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">I can guess what you might be thinking. “Really? The best gift? Not the Christmas ornament with your firstborn’s handprint preserved in clay? Not the wall hanging with the names of every family member spelled out like a Scrabble game board?”</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />I did love those gifts, too. But the "we love you" note was the best because my children gave it to me on a day I was so very unlovable as a mother.<br /><br />I’d had one of my typical mom meltdowns. I’m sure there was yelling and door-slamming involved. And, I’m sure I freaked about something that was, in fact, nothing. Truly, I’m sure my daughters snuck off to their rooms to commiserate about “mom being a mom”…and to write me this note, which they surreptitiously left for me to find.<br /><br />All of which is just to say that I’ve had more than my share of bad days as a mom. I’ve had to learn how to reset my defaults…to reprogram my thinking. If you’re having a day that’s headed toward bad in a hurry, here are a few things to tell yourself that might bring it around to good.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /><u>1. God cares about moms.</u><br /><br />I believe God has a special place in His great heart for moms, as evidenced by this lovely passage from Isaiah:<br /><br />“See, the Sovereign Lord…tends His flock like a shepherd; He gathers the lambs in His arms and carries them close to His heart; <i>He gently leads those that have young</i>” (Isaiah 40:10a, 11, emphasis added).<br /><br /><u>2. A bad day does not make you a bad mom.</u><br /><br />The pursuit of perfection in motherhood seems like an honorable goal because we know a terrible, wonderful truth: THIS JOB MATTERS. A lot. So when we miss the mark, we’re tempted to overgeneralize and overreact: a bad morning becomes a bad day, and a bad day becomes bad motherhood.<br /><br />But oh mama, with God, there is grace. Yet if achieving some level of “good” as a mom is a goal we pursue above all else, it is an idol. And <a href="http://www.biblestudytools.com/jonah/2-8.html">Jonah 2:8</a> is starkly clear that grace and idolatry cannot live together in the same spiritual house: “Those who cling to worthless idols forfeit the grace that could be theirs.” <br /><br />I don’t want to give up grace that could be mine. I don’t want you to give up grace that could be yours. And it’s not about giving yourself grace nearly so much as it is about receiving the grace Abba is offering. Take it, and then pour it out onto the people who call you “mom."<br /><br /><u>3. Now is a good time to pause, praise, and pray.<br /></u><br />When I’m staring down a bad day on my motherhood journey, I tend to go into frantic-mom mode: running around, pinging from uncompleted task to uncompleted task, jabbering incoherently to myself. What I need to do instead is hit the pause button.<br /><br />I need to praise God for who He is and for the blessings He’s given me, including the children and the home that usually “inspire” my busyness. And then I need to pray for strength and patience and perspective and hope. (For starters.)<br /><br /><u>4. All the little things you do make a difference in the big picture.</u><br /><br />On a day that seems ripe for a do-over, it’s tempting to focus on the constant tasks that demand our attention and are never, ever truly “done”: laundry, dinner, driving kids places, baths, bedtimes… But woven into this fabric of daily life are the interactions and loving gestures and words of teaching and encouragement that shape soul the soul.<br /><br />“Parenthood is a partnership with God. You are not molding iron nor chiseling marble; you are working with the Creator of the universe in shaping human character and determining destiny” (Ruth Vaughn).<br /><br />That’s some big-picture perspective right there.<br /><a href="https://ruthiegray.mom/bad-mom-day/"> </a><br /><u>5. It’s okay if your day is a “just get through it” day.</u><br /><br />A few years ago, when my parents, my siblings and their families, and my little family and I were all on vacation together to celebrate my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary, my sister taught us a new card game. I don’t remember the name of the game or how it worked, but one goal of it was to earn points. On one of her turns, my sister ended up with a low score of just a few points but remarked that it was “better than zero.”<br /><br />Since then, “better than zero” has become a life litmus test of sorts for us: if something is “better than zero,” that’s often good enough. Of course, I know you’re trying to make the most of your time and opportunities with your precious children.<br /><br />But some days, anything better than zero is a win in and of itself, and it’s just fine if today is one of those days.<br /><a href="https://ruthiegray.mom/bad-mom-day/"> </a><br /><u>6. You’re not supposed to be able to do this on your own.</u><br /><br />There’s a phrase floating around in the mom social-media world these days that says, “You are enough.” It’s meant to encourage us, but it always rings hollow to me. I read it and think, “No, I’m not.” But here’s the thing: I’m not supposed to be.<br /><br />God did not create us to be “enough” on our own. Indeed, He created us to need Him. And, He puts it this way in His Word:<br /><br />“He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me” (2 Corinthians 12:9 NIV).<br /><br /> The idea of God’s power being “made perfect” is not an indication it’s lacking anything; rather, “made perfect” carries the idea of completion. It’s as if the best backdrop for God’s power to show itself off is our weakness.<br /><br />Next time you’re having the kind of day you’d like to trade in for a new model, do a little “boasting”: “Hey, God! Here’s all my weakness! I’m primed for your power!” It’ll be the perfect package.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /><u>7. Your kids will remember the love</u><br /><br />My teenager started her birthday one year crying in her bedroom. It was, thankfully, not my fault: the weather was decidedly not in favor of the beach plans she’d chosen for her celebration, so a complete revamp was necessary.<br /><br />We hastily constructed Plan B and set about putting it into action. At the end of what had started out as a very bad day, our birthday girl pulled her big sister and me in for a hug and told us, “I had a wonderful day. I felt so loved.” And I thought, “That’s IT, isn’t it?”<br /><br />Oh, mama, I’ve been through a lot of days with my kids, and I want you to know this: at the end of the day—good days, bad days, any day, every day—love is what your children will remember most.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />I’ve still got that sticky note from my daughters tucked away in a kitchen drawer for safekeeping and future reference. It reminds me of what was true the day they gave it to me and of what, mercifully and beautifully, is true now: love wins the day, on any kind of day.<br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"><i>A version of this post first appeared on <a href="https://ruthiegray.mom/bad-mom-day/" target="_blank">Ruthie Gray Dot Mom</a>.</i></span></div>Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-37293878190886773272021-02-17T21:16:00.003-05:002021-02-17T22:00:21.191-05:0016 Verses For When You’re Awake In the Night Worrying About Your Kids<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimfxdWRL7jPyWfev5e8mfyObVZaQpLFzu2PED-fnxo01a5_d3rNQaweEyY6RxH2FQurm8GkHhpCjcUHoae6aMyBdjYVV3DNt8UyEGZUpR6uJNq_hyphenhyphenlmHQqGlwiqk0mcqbDJ9LshJ9YCCh0/s1920/woman-653892_1920.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1920" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimfxdWRL7jPyWfev5e8mfyObVZaQpLFzu2PED-fnxo01a5_d3rNQaweEyY6RxH2FQurm8GkHhpCjcUHoae6aMyBdjYVV3DNt8UyEGZUpR6uJNq_hyphenhyphenlmHQqGlwiqk0mcqbDJ9LshJ9YCCh0/w640-h426/woman-653892_1920.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Moms of young children do not so much sleep as they hover in a semi-conscious state, waiting for someone to need something.</span><p></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Moms of older children, on the other hand, do not so much sleep as they worry in a reclining position, wondering about what their grown kids need that they don’t know about or <i>do</i> know about but can’t do anything about.</span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Momsomnia is a battle, and like so many battles, we fight it in our minds first. Since “just don’t think about it” works approximately 0.00 percent of the time, we’ve got to have a sharper weapon. </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Enter the <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/ephesians/6-17.html" target="_blank">sword of the Spirit</a>—the Word of God—with which we can offend the enemy and take a stab at those 3 a.m. (or whenever-a.m.) thoughts.</span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The next time you find yourself worrying in a reclining position, maybe these Scriptures and accompanying breath prayers—meditations based on the Scripture that you can pray in one inhale and exhale—will help transform it into a position of peace.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><b style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></b></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span style="font-family: verdana;">1. “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the LORD, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’” <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/jeremiah/29-11.html" target="_blank">(</a></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/jeremiah/29-11.html" target="_blank">Jeremiah 29:11 NIV)</a></span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Your plans are good.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Your plans face forward.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Your plans give hope.</i></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><b style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></b></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">2. “I will praise the LORD, who counsels me; even at night my heart instructs me. I keep my eyes always on the LORD. With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken. Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body also will rest secure.” <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/nas/psalms/16-8.html" target="_blank">(</a></span><span style="color: #dca10d; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/nas/psalms/16-8.html" target="_blank">Psalm 16:7-9 NAS) </a></span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>My eyes are on You.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>I will not be shaken.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>I can rest secure.</i></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><b style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></b></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">3. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">“The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/deuteronomy/31-8.html" target="_blank">(Deuteronomy 31:8 NIV)</a></span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You go ahead of my children.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You are always with them.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You will never, never, never, never, never* leave them.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">(*The original language here has never “nevers.”)</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">4. “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.” <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/psalms/passage/?q=psalm+27:13-14" target="_blank">(Psalm 27:13-14 NIV)</a></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>I will see Your goodness again.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>I will wait for You.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>I will not lose heart.</i></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;">5. “I will be glad and rejoice in your love, for you saw my affliction and knew the anguish of my soul. You have not given me into the hands of the enemy but have set my feet in a spacious place.” <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/psalms/passage/?q=psalm+31:7-8" target="_blank">(Psalm 31:7-8 NIV)</a></span></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You see what troubles me.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You have not given me to my enemies.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You set me in a wide-open place.</i></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">6. "The LORD makes firm the steps of the one who delights in him; </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">though he may stumble, he will not fall, for the LORD upholds him with his hand." <span style="caret-color: rgb(220, 161, 13);"><a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/psalms/passage/?q=psalm+37:23-24">(Psalm 37:23,24 NIV)</a></span></span></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You make my kids’ steps firm.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>They might stumble, but they won’t fall.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You hold them up.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">7. "The LORD will keep you from all harm— he will watch over your life; the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore." <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/psalms/passage/?q=psalm+121:7-8" target="_blank">(Psalm 121:7,8 NIV)</a></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You’re watching over my children's lives.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You will keep harm away from them.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You always see their comings and goings.</i></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">8. "The LORD is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">He fulfills the desires of those who fear him; he hears their cry and saves them." <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/psalms/passage/?q=psalm+145:18-19" target="_blank"><span style="color: black;">(Psalm 145:18,19 <span style="caret-color: rgb(220, 161, 13);">NIV)</span></span></a></span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>When I call, You come near.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You fulfill my desires.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You hear my cry, and you save me.</i></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">9. "How gracious he will be when you cry for help! As soon as he hears, he will answer you.<b> </b></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, 'This is the way; walk in it.'" <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/isaiah/passage/?q=isaiah+30:19-21" target="_blank">(Isaiah 30:19,21 NIV)</a> </span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You are gracious and want to help.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You answer my cries quickly.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You will tell me which way I should go.</i></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">10. "Those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." </span><a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/isaiah/passage/?q=isaiah+40:30-31" style="font-family: verdana;" target="_blank">(Isaiah 40:30-31 NIV)</a></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>I confidently expect what you will do.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You make my strength new.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You help me keep going strong.</i></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">11. "When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown. When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you." <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/nlt/isaiah/43-2.html" target="_blank">(</a></span><span style="color: #dca10d; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/nlt/isaiah/43-2.html" target="_blank">Isaiah 43:2 NLT) </a></span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You are with my children.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Deep waters won’t drown them.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Hot fires won’t destroy them.</i></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;">12. "Since ancient times no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who acts on behalf of those who wait for him." <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/isaiah/64-4.html">(Isaiah 64:4 NIV)</a></span></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>No one compares to you.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You’re working while I’m waiting.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You are acting on my children's behalf.</i></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">13. "Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/lamentations/passage/?q=lamentations+3:21-23" target="_blank">(Lamentations 3:21-23 NIV)</a></span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Your compassions never fail.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You mercies are new every day.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Your faithfulness is great.</i></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;">14. "The LORD your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing." <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/zephaniah/3-17.html" target="_blank">(Zephaniah 3:17 NIV)</a></span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You are with my children.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You delight in them greatly.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You sing and You save.</i></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;">15. "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me." <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/2-corinthians/12-9.html" target="_blank">(2 Corinthians 12:9 NIV)</a></span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You give me more than I deserve.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Your grace never falls short.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>My weakness is the perfect place for your power.</i></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;">16. "I am sure of this, that He who started a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/csb/philippians/1-6.html" target="_blank">(Philippians 1:6 NIV)</a></span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You are the Beginner of good things.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>You carry the load.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>One day, all You started will be perfectly finished.</i></span></p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p>Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-36876093592482264202021-01-19T07:06:00.000-05:002021-01-19T07:06:51.781-05:00Laying It Down, In Real Life<span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnNAOt-mYRF5R2T6gtWKIDXsuCWh9BhlLFJU5F_la6-GoJlEwUQ3ZyqmevuzuPZV4qbzQapcHYdMdjUeAXv4bAQqMLLxztl-OQfwJ1_Rble3NjT0l17B93i6rqDtFV96YEE7olg92rP65f/s1920/sun-1689783_1920.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1321" data-original-width="1920" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnNAOt-mYRF5R2T6gtWKIDXsuCWh9BhlLFJU5F_la6-GoJlEwUQ3ZyqmevuzuPZV4qbzQapcHYdMdjUeAXv4bAQqMLLxztl-OQfwJ1_Rble3NjT0l17B93i6rqDtFV96YEE7olg92rP65f/w400-h275/sun-1689783_1920.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />“Lay it down.” </span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />“Let it go.” <br /><br />“Give it to God.” <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">What in the world does this look like? </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />Because until we stand in the immediate presence of Jesus, we are most definitely <i>in</i> the world, even while we’re not supposed to be <i>of </i>it. <br /><br />“Lay it down.” <br /><br />“Let it go.” <br /><br />“Give it to God.” <br /><br />We know these are good ideas. We know this is what we should do. We know this is the best way. <br /><br />But every time I see or hear this advice, I think, “Yes, but HOW??!!” <br /><br />What does this really mean? <br /><br />What does it look like in practice? <br /><br />And also, “just” lay it down? It doesn’t usually feel like “just” to me, because the “it” I’m supposed to be “just” giving to God or laying down or letting go of—my burden or worry or struggle or fear—is almost always connected in some way to some person I love. Someone I very much want to clutch to me. <br /><br />“Lay it down” is no simple advice to follow because I’m almost never needing to lay down an “it” but a “who.” <br /><br />The <i>it </i>may be worry or fear or a weight, but my goodness, the <i>who </i>is my child or my husband or my friend or even my own self. <br /><br />Yet I know it is for the best good of all these “whos” that I do unclench my fists of worry, fear, <i>et al</i>, and lay down, let go, give up to God</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">—</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Who is infinitely able to bear them for me while He cares about the “whos” behind them. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />But—back to this again—what does this laying, letting, giving look like in real life? Not just as an “amen” to someone’s “let it go” post on social media? Not just as a nod of agreement to a preacher’s “give it to God” in a sermon? <br /><br />Sometimes, it looks like a symbolic but also literal physical act: in prayer, clenching my fists, holding on...then opening my hands, palms up, and praying, “Here, God. Here it it. Take it.” And turning my open hands over, palms down. <br /><br />Sometimes, it looks like turning whatever I’m clutching into a sacrificial thank offering. “Sacrificial,” because it will cost me something to give: my comfort, my familiarity with the burden, my feelings. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">“Offering,” because this is what I will present to God.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> “Thank,” because what I will sacrificially give is my gratitude. I am worried, maybe, about my child. But I am thankful I have her to care about. I am burdened, maybe, by my schedule. But I am thankful I have meaningful work to do. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Sometimes, it looks like getting control of my thoughts ahead of time. If I’m trying to let go of something, that letting go is going to happen first in my brain. So if (and this is not a very big “if”) I know that something is going to be my first conscious thought in the morning, I can preselect an alternate thought. A thanksgiving, a praise to God, <a href="https://guiltychocoholicmama.blogspot.com/2020/11/known-by-his-names.html?m=1" target="_blank">a name of God</a>, a Scripture. I wake up, and the worry or the burden shows up immediately. But I already have its override ready. I plug it in...letting go, laying down, giving up. <br /><br />Sometimes, it looks like starving the thing. Like not feeding it more time or attention or energy or new information or one more check-in. <br /><br />Sometimes, it looks like sifting out the lies that are adding the most burdensome weight to whatever I’m carrying and washing them down the drain with the water of truth. What is it about what I’m trying to let go of that, if I’m honest, isn’t true? What’s the counteracting truth? Pour that on. Let the lies go down the drain. <br /><br />Lay it down. <br /><br />Let it go. <br /><br />Give it to God. <br /><br />These cannot just be nice ideas; they have to be real-life choices. And they will never be one-time acts; they will always be repeat motions. They will be hard. I will have to fight myself. <br /><br />But I trust, even if only with a mustard-seed’s worth of faith, that if I give up fear, I’ll gain freedom. If I let go of worry, I’ll take hold peace. If I lay down despair, I’ll pick up hope. <br /><br />It won’t be a “just” job. But the payout might just be nothing less than joy. </span></div>Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-24220299515611169872021-01-08T08:51:00.000-05:002021-01-08T08:51:40.723-05:00 Parenting Is the Riskiest Thing I’ve Ever Done<span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf28WGWwjdUylo_pvQvGUT3xBNZGZMCQWDHlHhyEEmLUiqg2TljH8n7k0Bwi5wOgNi6mk85j2TGvZovnsh6eNoUsbN8LTRdFaY_xjyu7y8yRLA_2tnm7mtd2W7l07CBAAgMW34gSfX1IUz/s1920/waters-3158413_1920.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1107" data-original-width="1920" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf28WGWwjdUylo_pvQvGUT3xBNZGZMCQWDHlHhyEEmLUiqg2TljH8n7k0Bwi5wOgNi6mk85j2TGvZovnsh6eNoUsbN8LTRdFaY_xjyu7y8yRLA_2tnm7mtd2W7l07CBAAgMW34gSfX1IUz/w640-h368/waters-3158413_1920.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />I am not a risk-taker. <br /><br />The worst that can happen—as in, "what’s the worst that...?"—is usually far too "worst" for me. <br /><br />This is the same reason I can’t sell ANYTHING. My husband, a natural salesman like his father before him, says, "My dad always said, 'The worst someone can say is 'no.''" To which I always reply, "EXACTLY! They might say no! I’d rather just not ask in the first place." I honestly can’t think of a possible "yes" that’s worth the risk of a "no."<br /><br />Yet here I am, 22 contiguous years into parenting, and it’s easily the riskiest thing I’ve ever done. <br /><br />Honestly, I think it’s the riskiest thing any parent who’s in it for the long haul and for the highest good of their children ever does. <br /><br />No one tells you this, of course. Baby shower and new baby cards don’t say, "Congratulations! You have just leapt off the highest cliff of your life!" They say things about new hands to hold and a new heart to love. Both of which, bless the day, are true!</span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">But it’s a chancy truth. <br /><br />Love is always a risk. We risk our hearts. We risk our comfort. We risk our convenience. But often we make this investment with some reassurance that love will be returned. We get married and enter into a covenant...a promise that goes both ways. Or we love a friend who, at least to begin with, seems to love us back. <br /><br />But parenting is a chance we take without any prior agreement from one of the major parties involved. Our children can rightly tell us, “I didn’t ask to be born!” (And many children across the ages have availed themselves of this claim.) <br /><br />Signing on voluntarily to love the children we bring into the world is in a risk class all its own. It reminds me of what Mary Steenburgen’s character tells Steve Martin’s character in the movie <i>Parenthood</i>: "What do you want? Guarantees? These are kids, not appliances."<br /><br />We risk our children not loving us. We risk them not liking us. We risk them breaking our hearts. We risk them leaving us. <br /><br />We risk pain where they are concerned that is none of their own doing and also pain that is. <br /><br />We take this edgy chance partly because we don’t know what we’re getting into (ignorance being if not bliss then at least emboldening).</span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">We also take it because we suspect there are joys to be had in this uncertain game we won’t find by playing it safe.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">But mostly we take it because we trust it will be worth it. <br /><br />Worth it in the most life-changing, life-bettering ways. <br /><br />Worth it when they learn something new we’ve taught them. <br /><br />Worth it when they learn something new we didn’t teach them. <br /><br />Worth it when they teach us something we needed to learn but couldn’t have learned any other way. <br /><br />Worth it when we fight and win battles together. <br /><br />Worth it when we get to watch them do something that lights them up. <br /><br />Worth it when they make the world a better place. <br /><br />Worth it when they do something only they can do. <br /><br />Worth it when they’re loved enough to leave us when they can. <br /><br />Worth it when they love us enough to come back when they can.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Worth it when they fill up a space in our hearts we didn't know was waiting for anything.<br /><br />I know there are parents who wish with all their broken hearts they hadn’t taken this risk. I can only try to start to imagine all the reasons this might be true. How I hope these parents will be surprised in the near future by joys they can’t begin to imagine in the present. <br /><br />But for me—and I do not take this one bit for granted—becoming a parent is without question the biggest chance I’ve ever taken that I’d absolutely, without a doubt, take all over again.</span><br /></div></div>Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-18686016165008882132020-12-05T08:13:00.000-05:002020-12-05T08:13:15.596-05:00How To Have Yourself a Mary and Martha Little Christmas <p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: verdana;"></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL7dYeDfAPQCuVC7U4A7wWty912CqaoKLILQps4Z40nRpi6tWrJjfMzIgYCqxkWbWCqZ1JSII7EJBsLPD525vk9VmVXjAwnzpGkMCGYAZk3vL0g3jzL3YTeuxroNg0XHtHOq60BVicPURe/s320/64AF60A4-1E11-4581-97E8-B7C8E9C6B270.jpeg" /></a><br />I’m trying to be more like Mary this Christmas.<br /><br />No, not that Mary. The other one. The one who’s always portrayed as the A+ student to Martha’s “needs improvement” whenever the Biblical <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/bible-stories/mary-and-martha-bible-story.html" target="_blank">story</a> of Jesus at Mary and Martha’s house is told.<br /><br />(Briefly, based on <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/bible-stories/mary-and-martha-bible-story.html" target="_blank">Luke 10</a>: Jesus was hanging out at his friends’ house. Mary parked herself at His feet and gave Him her rapt attention. Martha, meanwhile, ran around trying to cook for everyone, including Jesus. She started whining to the Man Himself about how her sister needed to get up off the floor already and help her out. Jesus said [paraphrasing here], “My dear Martha, you’re all worked up trying to do things your way. But Mary has picked the better way.”)<br /><br />I’m on the record as a longtime member of the Martha Defense Council. I’ve been a guest in houses where no one was on Martha duty, and frankly, I’ve been hungry. But I think both Mary and Martha have some pointers to pass along where this present Christmas is concerned. <br /><br />Use the paper plates, for instance.<br /><br />The thing is, Martha wasn’t doing a bad thing; she just wasn’t doing the <i>better</i> thing. <br /><br />Wow, would it ever be a whole lot easier to ace this test if the choice of how to spend our time came down to good versus bad. The trick is that it’s usually a choice between good and better. <br /><br />It’s not like Martha was in the back room gossiping with her BFF while she ignored her honored Guest; she was trying to show love and care. She was trying to meet needs. She was trying to serve well. (Sounds like most moms I know.)<br /><br />I think Martha was doing what I tend to do, especially at Christmas: I run around like a crazy person doing things that can be done anytime or another time and miss what can only be done in this time.<br /><br />Martha could always cook a meal, but she couldn’t always sit at Jesus’ feet. I can always do dishes, but I can’t always sit on the couch with my big kids and look at the Christmas lights. I can always—another year—put the greenery garland I like but don’t love on my front railings, but I can’t always decorate the Christmas tree with the teenager I both like and love.<br /><br />So I’ll be keeping Martha close at hand to keep me on track while I try to be a little more like Mary this Christmas. While I leave the real dishes in the cupboard and use the paper plates for family pizza night with my whole present-and-accounted-for family. While I leave the front railings plain and decorate cookies with my big kids.<br /><br />While I put good on the back burner good and sit at the feet of better.</span>Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-57405519073717925182020-11-25T08:10:00.007-05:002020-11-25T08:55:52.434-05:00Known By His Names<div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTVEGyWKkv0b0Pgn1yfJXNqhpiay6YXeVo3D7HSCoDFdxiyXUZ_TWUUF2SKO__in_0t8QPbXHLC9MjDjtUPIcVbHlVb5UVtHSqvcYF3GJ6ahlZEPqKaRD_db24GCApw2KtSzLsHzl25MzJ/s2048/9FE82141-80A7-4C13-9DD3-94DE698F32A0.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1985" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTVEGyWKkv0b0Pgn1yfJXNqhpiay6YXeVo3D7HSCoDFdxiyXUZ_TWUUF2SKO__in_0t8QPbXHLC9MjDjtUPIcVbHlVb5UVtHSqvcYF3GJ6ahlZEPqKaRD_db24GCApw2KtSzLsHzl25MzJ/s320/9FE82141-80A7-4C13-9DD3-94DE698F32A0.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Two years, five days, and about eight hours ago, I shared a <a href="https://guiltychocoholicmama.blogspot.com/2018/11/365-days-of-great-names-of-god.html" target="_blank">post</a> on this blog introducing a <a href="https://guiltychocoholicmama.blogspot.com/2018/12/365-days-of-great-names-of-god-day-1.html" target="_blank">365-day series</a> on the names of God. I thought it would be fun to wake up every morning for a year to a name, title, attribute, or role of the Great I AM (which, by the way, was <a href="https://guiltychocoholicmama.blogspot.com/2018/12/365-days-of-great-names-of-god-day-5-i.html" target="_blank">Day 5</a>).</span></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I knew there was a 365-names-of-God song, so I figured if someone could sing about them, I could write about them.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I imagine God got quite a laugh out of that, but, true to His graceful, provisional nature, He faithfully provided a year’s worth of entries about Himself.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Now, I am so grateful to let you know that the book version of this series, which my mama “suggested” I write starting on about Day 2, is finished in self-published fashion and available on <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08N3M25GD/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Known+By+His+Names&qid=1605093622&sr=8-1" target="_blank">Amazon</a> as <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08N3M25GD/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Known+By+His+Names&qid=1605093622&sr=8-1" target="_blank">Known By His Names: A 365-Day Journey From The Beginning to The Amen.</a></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I came to regard writing the original series as a manna in the wilderness experience: save for a couple weeks when I was away with my family, God never let me get more than a day or so ahead on His names, and so they joined the journey in no particular Biblical order. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">But once I had a stack of 365 pages of individual names to guide me, I was able to order them more or less following the path of Scripture...from The Beginning in Genesis to The Amen in Revelation. In the book, they are headed by day (Day 1-Day 365) but not by calendar date, so the journey can be started on any day of any year. Each day is intended as its own entity, but the days also feed off each other so that the reader can start with Day 1 and continue along in order...by Day 365 (however long it takes to get there!), I am trusting a tapestry will have emerged, woven together by the thread of God’s names.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">To back up the book, I gave it its own <a href="https://guiltychocoholicmama.blogspot.com/p/known-by-his-names_9.html?m=1" target="_blank">page</a> here, including an A-Z names of God bookmark that can be printed of, as well as a list-in-progress of links to all the original posts as they first appeared on this blog but in the order they appear in the book.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">In all this, my prayer remains the same as it was on Day 1 of those first 365: that God’s great names might be known and praised forever.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">He is the Beginning. He is the Amen. And He is everything we need Him to be—and infinitely more—for every breath of every day in between.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">For His great name’s sake,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Homemade Apple";">Elizabeth</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p> <p></p>Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-64172856097106136272020-10-31T07:51:00.000-04:002020-10-31T07:51:29.798-04:00This Is What Parenting a Young Adult Is Sometimes Like<div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ZHp1ck6qauV24FR9Kk3tmJFjBpl4vRq1J9n-vkEwzXctgna5mAbz9rF3077LOBUgRf3cCUkERp6l3z1I3SlMnee036HHKrJXxw70m9BXlYxk0HLIXjmVNLO_2OPImy6IdsEOFA1vBWNC/s2048/92302434-C1D9-49A5-8660-E860B05F47D1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1846" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ZHp1ck6qauV24FR9Kk3tmJFjBpl4vRq1J9n-vkEwzXctgna5mAbz9rF3077LOBUgRf3cCUkERp6l3z1I3SlMnee036HHKrJXxw70m9BXlYxk0HLIXjmVNLO_2OPImy6IdsEOFA1vBWNC/s320/92302434-C1D9-49A5-8660-E860B05F47D1.jpeg" /></a></div><br />I’m pretty sure the reason no has, as far as I know, yet written </span><i style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">What To Expect When You're Expecting a Young Adult</i><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"> is because no one who has parented one of these wonderful but often mystifying creatures feels like enough of an expert to author the thing.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">Life with a young adult is a lot like life during a pandemic: this is what's going to happen, unless it doesn't.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">I'm certainly not about the write a book on the subject, but with the help of some other YA parents*, I did put together what could possibly be considered a pamphlet on this stage of raising humans; I'm so grateful to <a href="https://grownandflown.com/parenting-young-adult/" target="_blank">Grown and Flown</a> for running it. If you <a href="https://grownandflown.com/parenting-young-adult/" target="_blank">make your way over there</a> and have anything to add, I'd love to have you pop back here and leave a comment. Who knows? Between us, we might be able to write this book yet.</span></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">* * * * * *</span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">*</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Sue Moore Donaldson, </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Melanie Hardacker, </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Miranda Lamb, </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Kim McKay Laws, </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Karen MacLean, </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Kori Titus, </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">and other sweet friends on my </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/810394175681562/posts/3282817125105909/?extid=0&d=n" target="_blank">Guilty Chocoholic Mama Facebook page</a><span style="font-family: verdana;">.</span></div></span></div>Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-11066617789765928532020-10-09T08:33:00.000-04:002020-10-09T08:33:25.290-04:00What I Want My Children To Think Of Me<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgerXRFUhgi0YOTPRsXy8G3uJWEEcLQG017ojdF6FZXx85Tq1Ws88FGA1pQjUsqZVxj50CeIqHOHabe4-YHgVlKCYkntphvN30I34HvU9v3DtbCgTIvZXzrKdC9DbNbmuUla0kU6CDEFLh8/s2048/4E34AD62-04B6-42FD-BEB9-2D8D04D71B34.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgerXRFUhgi0YOTPRsXy8G3uJWEEcLQG017ojdF6FZXx85Tq1Ws88FGA1pQjUsqZVxj50CeIqHOHabe4-YHgVlKCYkntphvN30I34HvU9v3DtbCgTIvZXzrKdC9DbNbmuUla0kU6CDEFLh8/w400-h300/4E34AD62-04B6-42FD-BEB9-2D8D04D71B34.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Someday, my children will tell someone what they think of me. How they remember me. What kind of mom I was. What it was like being my child.<br /><br />I’m not naïve: there’s plenty they could say in total truth that I wouldn’t want etched on my headstone. But I’m not done parenting them yet (I don’t think we ever are, actually), so I’m still writing those markings.<br /><br />Here’s a list-in-progress of what I hope will make the cut.<br /><br /></span><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>That I sought God’s face and favor. </i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>That I cherished my children for who they were while encouraging them to become who they could be.</i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>That I apologized genuinely and then acted differently afterwards.</i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>That I listened.</i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>That I wasn’t boring.</i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>That I took an interest in them.</i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>That I made them feel I was glad they were in my life.</i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>That I loved with action.</i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>That I prayed.</i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>That I laughed.</i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>That I loved their father well.</i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>That I made a home and did not just keep a house.</i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>That I let them go enough to leave when it was time but held on enough to bring them back from time to time.</i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>That I chose my battles wisely.</i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>That they knew they could come to me with anything.</i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>That I was fun to spend time with.</i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>That I let them feel what they felt and sat with them in those feelings rather than trying to rush them through those feelings.</i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>That I gave them good memories.</i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>That I pursued and prioritized relationship with them.</i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>That I did not stay the same but that my love for them was, always, sure and certain.</i></span></p>Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-34242465901040895742020-09-09T20:27:00.001-04:002020-09-10T00:52:04.010-04:00Why I Still Stayed Home<span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRKcy6xLXxS0FTv_ZlafY9afldv_U6mWMLBgpJCwHja469bQuzpBaK_seY4NRSuxVzsp4xpye5un-MWbQtQ5E24kB1A08EhIrwBK9ho0ySM_1hmqtbr1zV4Ei1w3jK9MZj2uhhUH1tHMtF/s2048/girlskiss2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRKcy6xLXxS0FTv_ZlafY9afldv_U6mWMLBgpJCwHja469bQuzpBaK_seY4NRSuxVzsp4xpye5un-MWbQtQ5E24kB1A08EhIrwBK9ho0ySM_1hmqtbr1zV4Ei1w3jK9MZj2uhhUH1tHMtF/w500-h375/girlskiss2.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">“So, what do you do all day?”</div><br />Stay-at-home-moms have been fielding this question for decades, and articles answering it have been written by authors a lot craftier than I.<br /><br />But things get really tricky when you are a non-homeschooling SAHM of older children. <br /><br />Your PTA days are over. Your kids dress themselves and direct themselves and possibly even drive themselves. Supposedly, they don’t “need you” much anymore.<br /><br />When the people I stayed home for were older but still often at home, I spent my days getting my little family (my husband and our two daughters) out the door and then welcoming them back when they got home. I cooked and cleaned. I managed our family’s schedule, including my girls’ multiple dance classes a week and their heavy involvement in the school band program. I did a little legal document prep for my attorney husband. I served on the worship team at church and facilitated a weekly women’s Bible study. I was a career band mom. I volunteered at school. I sometimes worked as a catering assistant to fund dance costumes.<br /><br />I was and still am beyond grateful to have had even the option of spending my time that way.<br /><br />I know so many moms would love to have this choice. I know most two-income families are not buying “extras” with those incomes. I also know many moms do important away-from-home work they love and cannot imagine being happy without.<br /><br />And to all the homeschooling and employed moms out there: I truly don’t know how you do it.<br /><br />But given the choice, why did I “stay home” in the first place? After all, many moms balance careers and attention to their big kids brilliantly. But I knew myself, knew my low threshold for stress...and knew I wouldn't be one of them. So I stayed home—and would do it again—because for us, I believed the older-kid years were the most important time for me to be fully available for my children. <br /><br />As tweens and teens, they didn’t need their knees bandaged or their diapers changed anymore. Which was fabulous. But they often needed their hearts healed or their minds redirected. Which was hard and important. <br /><br />My brother, who is many years behind me in the parenting game, once asked, “Now that you’re this far along, if you had to choose when you would be home for your girls, what age would you choose?”<br /><br />“Now,” I told him. “Absolutely now.” <br /><br />I’ve seen the truth of a very wise thing my mother-in-law told me when I was a young bride. She worked in the family business, but her office was in the garage attached to their house, so she was available at any time for my husband all through his growing-up years.<br /><br />She told me how thankful she was for that option and that it was nonnegotiable for her, even when— especially when—her only child was an adolescent. “People say your kids don’t need you as much when they’re bigger. But their problems are bigger, too.” <br /><br />I wanted my husband and children to be able to do well in work and school and at their passions. I wanted them to be able to love well. I wanted them to be able to serve well. I wanted them to be able to pursue faith well.<br /><br />I wanted them to pour out well onto other people and onto the things that mattered to them. But in order for them to pour out anything good, they had to be filled up with something good. That kind of filling up takes time and work and attention, and I knew I, personally, needed to focus on mostly doing just that.<br /><br />My children have told me, “I’m so glad I have a mom I can count on to make me feel better when I’m upset.” I’m grateful they can say that, because it didn’t just happen all at once. It happened over the course of hundred moments spread out over what’s now been more than two decades of on-the-job training as a mother. There are lots of different ways that training can happen. But this is the way it happened for me.<br /><br />That’s why I stayed home. That’s why, given the chance, I still would.<br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">A version of this piece originally appeared on <a href="https://herviewfromhome.com/why-i-still-stay-home/">Her View From Home</a>.</span></i></span><p style="font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><br /></p><p style="font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 3px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></p><p style="font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p>Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-47553013575695643002020-08-05T20:31:00.000-04:002020-08-05T20:31:11.478-04:00Maybe This Is Our Such A Time As This<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9bItb0eReaW3np3EszR1QWBm1b1dELKpmGK8QN5NkFbxxAik-Yx9ubiZZkEtgrZtAkURSWBCpeKnuJypzo5wObpXDzpASxZFKJ3i-Y6Vk5TA3303JKXl567d4oPShV9uiR5TcUgU5aTnA/s1920/the-eleventh-hour-5017535_1920.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1920" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9bItb0eReaW3np3EszR1QWBm1b1dELKpmGK8QN5NkFbxxAik-Yx9ubiZZkEtgrZtAkURSWBCpeKnuJypzo5wObpXDzpASxZFKJ3i-Y6Vk5TA3303JKXl567d4oPShV9uiR5TcUgU5aTnA/w625-h416/the-eleventh-hour-5017535_1920.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Sometimes, life in the age of coronavirus feels like it’s doing nothing less than asking us to save our people.</span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Of course, as moms, we know we can’t; saving is always and only God’s job. </span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">But it feels as though He has given us a historic role to play this season, much like He gave the Biblical </span><a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/esther/" style="font-family: verdana;" target="_blank">Queen Esther</a><span style="font-family: verdana;">.</span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Comfortingly, she wasn’t all that crazy about it, either. </span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">She didn’t ask for the job.</span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">She didn’t want it.</span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">She balked at it, at first. </span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">And when she finally accepted it, she did it with sort of a “well, this might be the death of me, but if it is, so be it” attitude. </span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">You’ve got to love her.</span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">“Who knows,” Esther’s cousin suggests to her when he’s trying to talk her into taking the job, “but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?” <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/esther/4.html" target="_blank">(Esther 4:14)</a>.</span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Our maternal positions may not be royal, but we have been put in them on purpose, for a purpose. </span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">We might be reluctant.</span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">We might be uncertain. </span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">We might think what we’re being asked to do will be the death of us.</span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">But Esther accepted her calling for the good of her people, and for such a time as this, we can accept our calling for the good of ours.</span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">All these generations later, Esther’s reluctant decision to go where she didn’t want to go and do what she didn’t feel qualified to do is celebrated and recounted as an example of faithfulness and bravery.</span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">We may demur at the suggestion we would take on the enormous challenge set before us in hopes future generations might speak well of us. But if we accept this commission as nothing less than a royal appointment by the King of the universe, it is no conceit to hope that future generations might live well and serve well and love well because of it.</span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">The quote “God couldn’t be everywhere, so He created mothers” (attributed variously to Rudyard Kipling and a Jewish proverb) gets God’s omnipresence wrong, of course, but maybe it lends itself to this revision: God </span><i style="font-family: verdana;">is </i><span style="font-family: verdana;">everywhere, and one way He is is in the person of mothers. </span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">When we don’t check out.</span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">When we don’t give more weight to what we don’t know than what we do.</span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">When we don’t suppose we have to figure out how on earth we’ll do the next month (or nine) and instead ask God to help us do each one day.</span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">When, right in the deep and dark of our weariness, uncertainty, fear, and flat-out don’t-feel-like-it, we view ourselves as image-bearers of Abba. </span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Not haughtily but humbly. Not because there isn’t any other way for God to preserve our children to the race, but because He thinks highly enough of us to give us the chance to partner with Him in the cause.</span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">God will not force our hand. But if we extend it, He’ll reach out and take it and lead us along so that, following Him, we can lead the people we love. </span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">In such a time as this.</span><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><br style="font-family: verdana;" /><span style="font-family: verdana;">For such a time as this.</span>Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-35364777462781912042020-07-19T07:59:00.000-04:002020-07-19T08:45:11.251-04:00Don't Iron a Graduation Gown While Crying . . . and Other Wisdom From the Moms of the Class of 2020 <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A few weeks ago, I posted this question on my blog Facebook page:</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /><i style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">“Dear 2020 Senior Moms: what advice/words of wisdom/guidance/encouragement would you offer next year’s senior moms?”</i><br /><br /><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I asked this partly because I wanted to recognize these wonderful women and partly because I am a 2021 senior mom and “next year” has suddenly become this year, and I. NEED. TO. KNOW. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">With the same grace these amazing moms lent their 2020 graduates, they responded generously, their answers ranging from practical to passionate.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Here, with deepest appreciation, are 21 culled and compiled pieces of wisdom from the moms of the class of 2020. I know I’ll be keeping a copy of this list close at hand...right alongside my purse-pack tissues and my waterproof mascara. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">1. Don’t cry when you iron your senior’s graduation gown. Tear drops make more wrinkles.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />2. Listen more than you speak, and worry less than you listen.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />3. Ask—don’t assume—if they want to participate in school senior/graduation festivities and "lasts." Not all seniors want to. It is their year. Let them do it their way.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />4. Allow space for the process of grieving. Honor your senior's emotions.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />5. Keep talking to your senior. Give them advice and guidance, because even though they’re bold and ready, they’re also anxious and need you still. Be close, but don't hover.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />6. Find out-of-the-box ways to celebrate. Try to help your student see (and to see yourself) that different does not mean not as good.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />7. Take some moments to cry to yourself about the things you’ll miss and then cheer openly for all the new opportunities and adventures your son or daughter will have in coming years.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />8. Be ready to be surprised by—and so proud of—how bravely yet honestly your senior will handle what comes his or her way. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />9. Pray. (Often.) And give yourself and everyone around you all the grace you can gather.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />10. Understand that your senior is looking for independence as you are holding onto their lasts. They will experience a lot of emotions as they let go of you, in a way, and as they look toward their future</span></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">.Their independence will shake you, but it will also make you proud.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">11. Teach them to address an envelope.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />12. Remember to take time for you. Renew your interest in things you loved in the past. This will be a gift to you and to your graduate.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />13. You never know what you’ll end up loving. (Drive-thru graduation was a kick! If you have it, go all out!)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />14. Cherish all the small moments. Take nothing for granted. Enjoy every moment with your whole heart. These kids earned this time to be celebrated. Celebrate everything. Be present. Do it for your kids; do it for you. Do it for the kids who didn’t get to enjoy senior nights and prom nights and graduation festivities. Do it for their mamas who were heartbroken for these moments to pass uncelebrated. Applaud your senior loud enough for all of us.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />15. Don’t blink. But do breathe.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />16. Plan ahead; don’t wait till the last minute. Don’t procrastinate on minimum requirements for college applications. Be patient with online learning.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />17. Take. Pictures. Of. EVERYTHING. And be IN the pictures.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />18. Be supportive, let your students have fun, be there for what they need (hugs, chats, food, a confidante), enjoy spending time with them, encourage them, tell them again and again how proud you are of them, and love them.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />19. Enjoy the ordinary moments. That’s where real life is.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />20. There will be so many “lasts,” but there will be so many firsts to look forward to, also. Cry...but then put on a smile and get out there and enjoy every minute with them!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />21. Do all the things and take it all in. Love fiercely...and laugh often.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">*****</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Deepest thanks to <a href="https://www.facebook.com/guiltychocoholicmama/posts/2924183337635958?__tn__=%2CO*F" target="_blank">all the mamas</a> (including but not limited to those listed below) who not only shared <a href="https://www.facebook.com/guiltychocoholicmama/posts/2924183337635958?__cft__[0]=AZVe_9_Ut9bQ7stiVz39CgK6kgPaCnzNjkhu21EiZESFO2bpM357VmfisrF9a4bT7j8sCs5qssTJvAkPexzwUjXQO7-E6mah7TjlJKdKH9d7Ufmmzii84Yg4BbeFm5NCmTKJVsrmS513SdzFRhBjuGJ53alMZr881OQOu_DhZNAnbw&__tn__=%2CO%2CP-R" target="_blank">pieces of their stories</a> on my page but also gave me permission to tell those stories here. You and your graduates truly put the class in the Class of 2020. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /><i>With</i> Tehanne Cooney, Mindi Hommerding, Mellanie Barksdale, Amber Lee Balentine, Kristina Bellon, Debbie Jones, Traci Welborn Holland, Heather Ann Lynn, Lisa Page, Michele Weyland, Jennifer Edmondson Viveiros, Vicky Valle, Cheryl Gottlieb Boxer, Debra Fhaner Cascioli, Becky Harless, Fiona Sing, Gena Bethune McCown, Robin Basone, Stephanie Kay Suranyi, Jennifer Lynn Remer, Jennifer Meyers-Heeter, Lorri Gail Moffatt, Emily Pruitt Nemec, Kori Titus, Katie Rud, Becki Heck-K</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">nister, Leanne Grow, Lavinna Rendon, Tammy Ward, Stephanie Pietrasiewicz, Lisa Edwards Cyr, Amy Shupe, Cyndi Edgley.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Photo credit: Melanie Ortt</span>Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-21074834864375003872020-07-16T12:14:00.001-04:002020-07-16T12:14:23.257-04:00For All We Still Don't Know, Here's What We Do Know, Still<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The unknowns still feel as though they're ruling the day, these days.<br /><br />Or, at the very least, they still feel like a bunch of bullies who just won't back down for good. <br /><br />We don't know what day-to-day life is going to look like this school year.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />We don't know what's going to be open, closed, happening, cancelled, rescheduled, or restructured.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />We don't know if trips or events or celebrations we've postponed are ever going to have their day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />We don't know what the virus is going to do next or when a vaccine might be ready.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />We don't know what's going to be in short supply or a lot more expensive next.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />We don't know how far in the future we have to look for plans that are safe to make.<br /><br />And maybe one of the most unsettling things we still don't know is how long we're not going to know all this. We thought we knew how long a few months ago: a few months, we thought. <br /><br />It's the open-endedness that still makes this new normal so murky. If only we had a better idea idea of how and when we're going to finally turn a corner. But that how and when still feel like the leaders of the unknown parade at the moment.<br /><br />Yet for all we still don't know, here's what we do still know. (Some of which, we must admit, we didn't know three months ago.)<br /><br />We know that learning can happen in lots of different ways and places, even if a lot of those ways and places don't feel ideal.<br /><br />We know that getting outside and moving around are always good ideas, and we've never appreciated fresh air more.<br /><br />We know kindness is disease-resistant and is, in fact, one of the best disease-fighters around.<br /><br />We know laughter does not have to wait until there's nothing unfunny going on. Cannot wait, actually.<br /><br />We know having a home to be in is a privilege.<br /><br />We know patience is a skill we can get better at with practice.<br /><br />We know the big picture is made up of a lot of little pieces that all have to be fit together before they make sense.<br /><br />We know doing what's best for others often comes at a sacrifice to ourselves.<br /><br />We know encouragement is not a one-time deposit but an ongoing investment.<br /><br />We know right now is always the perfect time to tell our people we love them, even though we hope with all our hearts they already know it full well.<br /><br />And when—when, not if—the fog of doubt closes in again, we strain our eyes once more to see this guiding truth that has not changed...does not change: G</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">od knows where we are, and no matter how we've gotten there, He is always ready to take us somewhere new worth going.<br /><br /><i>"He knows the way that I take; when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold" (Job 23:10).</i></span><br />
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Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-25654904560632150652020-07-11T07:57:00.002-04:002020-07-11T07:57:29.330-04:00I Can Do All This When I Pray<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“All I can do is pray.”<br /><br />How many times have I heard this? <br /><br />More to the point: how many times have I <i>said</i> this? <br /><br />Obvious answer: many.<br /><br />On top of which, I usually say it—“all I can do is pray”—with a sigh of resignation, as if I’m conceding defeat. <br /><br />Resignation and defeat? Really?<br /><br />Clearly, I’ve lost track of what I’m actually doing when I pray...what any of us is doing when we come to God within the context of relationship with Him and with full confession of the ways we’ve missed the mark of His goodness.<br /><br />When you or I pray, we are availing ourselves of unfiltered, no middleman, split-second access to the Great I AM.</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When "all" we can do is pray, we are putting ourselves in a position of faith before the All in All.<br /><br />And yet: “all I can do is pray”?<br /><br />Really?<br /><br />I think I’ve got my “all” in the wrong place here.<br /><br />A little rearranging seems in order: <i>I can do all this when I pray.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(And you can, too.)</span><div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />The “all this” I can do when I pray includes but is most definitely not limited to...<br /><br /><i>I can approach the throne of grace with confidence <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/hebrews/4-16.html" target="_blank">(Hebrews 4:16)</a>.<br /><br />I can get help for what I need <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/hebrews/4-16.html" target="_blank">(Hebrews 4:16)</a>.<br /><br />I can call up the peace guard <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/philippians/passage/?q=philippians+4:6-7" target="_blank">(Philippians 4:6-7)</a>.<br /><br />I can be restored <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/job/passage/?q=job+33:26-28" target="_blank">(Job 33:26-28)</a>.<br /><br />I can steer clear of temptation <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/mark/14-38.html" target="_blank">(Mark 14:38)</a>.<br /><br />I can see demons driven out <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/mark/passage/?q=mark+9:14-29" target="_blank">(Mark 9:29)</a>.<br /><br />I can please God <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/proverbs/15-8.html" target="_blank">(Proverbs 15:8)</a>.</i><br /><br /><i>All </i>this. Just from talking to God—Who very much wants to hear from me (and from you, too). <br /><br />No fancy words. No fussy format. No prior experience required.<br /><br />All that is needed is an understanding that I can do all this when I pray because I’m not the one doing anything at all <i>and</i> faith (even the size of a <a href="https://www.biblestudytools.com/matthew/17-20.html" target="_blank">mustard seed</a>) that the One Who <i>can</i> do all this, will.</span></div>
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Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-37491711233740481962020-06-06T08:27:00.002-04:002022-09-01T06:54:50.926-04:00Mothers Live and Love In the Past, Present, and Future<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: verdana;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">I loved who my children were when they were little. I loved their gorgeous chunky thighs and their mismatched outfits and the funny way they mispronounced things (our nation's 16th president will always be "Aber Lincolnham" to us). I loved their simple happiness and unfiltered enthusiasm. I miss this sometimes. <br /><br />But I also love who they are now. I love their passion and their knowledge and their insights. I love sharing interests with them. I love our deep conversations. I love their growing independence. I love seeing them do things they love to do that they've worked hard to learn how to do. I love so many of the same things they love. I love doing things together that we would all choose to do on our own. I wouldn't miss this for the world.<br /><br />Too, I already love the glimpses I'm getting of who they might be in the future. I know tomorrow is promised to no one. I know anything could happen. But I'm still looking forward to what might be. When it gets here, I don't want to miss a minute of it.<br /><br />And here's a new (to me) realization about all this was/is/might be: as moms, I don't think we have to pick. I don't think we have to entirely let go of one to fully appreciate and (dare I say it?) cherish the others. I don't think loving who my children are now means I love who they were or who they might become less.<br /><br />I am a keeper of past memories. There are things I saw and heard and experienced that I have first rights to because I was there, front and center. <br /><br />I am a caretaker of present realities. I am sounding board and counselor and adviser and cheerleader and comforter. I am still a key player in my children's day-to-day lives, even if that mostly amounts to keeping our protein bar selection stocked up and sending encouraging "you can do it!" texts. <br /><br />And I am a nurturer of future possibilities. I have a front-row seat to big decisions my children are in the thick of making. Sometimes I have a voice in them. When these decisions play out (however they play out), I'll be able to say, "I remember how this all started."<br /><br />My children took their first steps on those chunky-thighed legs I loved so much. Today, they hurry to classes and teach classes on those lovely legs. And some tomorrow, they might walk down a wedding aisle or chase after their own babies on those strong, capable limbs.<br /><br />As their mom, I was part of their yesterdays. I am part of their todays. I hope with all my heart I'll be part of their tomorrows. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: verdana;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">And I have the privilege of living and loving it all.</span><br />
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Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-45578254220964188902020-06-05T15:37:00.000-04:002020-06-05T19:34:36.783-04:00Dear Myth of the Perfect Family: We’ve Had Enough of You<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: 17px;">Yes, you, with your nosiness and your tiresome commentary on every family situation.</span></div>
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<span class="s2">No children? “You two had better get busy!”</span></div>
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<span class="s2">One child? “When are you going to give them a sibling?”</span></div>
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<span class="s2">Lots of kids? “Are all those yours?”</span></div>
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<span class="s2">All girls? “Their poor dad.”</span></div>
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<span class="s2">All boys? “Every mom needs a daughter.”</span></div>
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<span class="s2">Blended families? “Are you the Brady Bunch?”</span><br />
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<span class="s2">Young children: “Just wait till they get to be teenagers.”</span></div>
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<span class="s2">Empty nest? “What are you going to do with yourselves?” </span></div>
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<span class="s2">And then there are your sneakier suggestions.</span></div>
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<span class="s2">Kids don’t have every opportunity? “They’ll be missing out.”</span></div>
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<span class="s2">Mom works? “Your kids will suffer.”</span></div>
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<span class="s2">Mom stays home? “What kind of role model is that?”</span></div>
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<span class="s2">Siblings don’t get along? “Your kids should be each other’s best friends.”</span></div>
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<span class="s2">Family fights? “Don’t show that in the Christmas card picture.”</span></div>
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<span class="s2">There’s no pleasing you, and frankly, it’s not our job as families to try. Our job as families is to love each other the best we can. </span></div>
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<span class="s2">Maybe to you, oh myth, that best looks balanced and tidy and smiley and neat and figured out and complete. In our true story, though, that best looks lopsided and messy and very, very much in progress. </span></div>
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<span class="s2">But we’ll take our true story over your myth any day. It’s our story, and we’re not only sticking to it, we’re sticking to and with each other. </span></div>
Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-87826273227847169212020-06-02T07:22:00.001-04:002020-06-02T09:23:15.038-04:00I'll Always Believe the Best About My Children<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I love the scene in the movie <i>Apollo 13</i> where astronaut Jim Lovell’s elderly mom learns that her son's ship has a problem (as in, "Houston, we have...") and that getting it and himself and his crew home is going to be tricky business.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Mrs. Lovell asks her granddaughter, "Are you scared?"—and then tells her, without qualification, "Don't be. If they could get a washing machine to fly, my Jimmy could land it."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">There is just no fan club like the mom fan club. It’s not that moms think their kids can do no wrong; it’s just that they believe their kids can do so much right. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Our love is not blind, but it is bold. Mom love allows us to see what is possible from a slightly removed position that delivers us from the distraction of too many details.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">For instance: my college-bound daughter plans to major in dance, but first, she has to audition for the program. The central piece of her audition is a solo in the style of her preference, to the music of her choosing, set to the choreography of her imagining. On the way home from our campus visit a few months ago, she played me one of the contender songs. I listened and could see her movements in my mind with no trouble at all. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Passionate. Strong. Sure. Uninhibited, but not sloppy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">"I'm already crying, just thinking about it," I told her. "It will be incredible."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But my daughter isn’t so sure. She has the benefit (or maybe the curse) of knowing all the ins and outs, knowing the struggles, knowing what looks easy but is in fact so hard, knowing what could happen, knowing what she wants to happen. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I, on the other hand, have the luxury of looking in from the outside and seeing the big picture, seeing the results, seeing the output without the intrusion of too much information.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Later in <i>Apollo 13</i><i>, </i>when the world is waiting to see just how lucky or unlucky 13 will turn out to be, Mrs. Lovell is visited by astronauts Buzz Aldrin and Neil Armstrong. They are introduced to her by Lovell's wife, and this proud mother asks them, "Are you boys in the space program, too?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">If all the world's a stage, a mother is aware there are other performers, but for her, the spotlight always follows her child. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This is the gift we give our children: love that does not demand the impossible but believes what is possible. Love that does not excuse wrong but expects right. Love that does not overlook limits but sees past them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I’ve heard countless stories (you probably have, too) of grown children who triumphed over challenges or setbacks in early life and testify as adults that “nobody else believed in me, but my mom did. I’m here today because of her.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I don’t want to be the only person who believes in my children, and I’m thankful I’m not, not by a long shot. But if this is a club, I am privileged to be its founding member, and I'll gratefully take my place as its president, for life.</span></div>
Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-69789201711083180422020-05-21T08:31:00.001-04:002020-05-21T08:31:19.705-04:00I Already Know What My Children Will Remember About the Summer of 2020<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I already know what my children will remember most about the summer that's still stretched out ahead of us, </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">waiting to unfold.</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm not being presumptuous, naive, or cocky. It's just that I know what my teenager and young adult remember most about past summers, and they are things we can still count on <i>this</i> summer.</span><div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />Thank goodness.<br /><br />Every year, at the end of the summer, I pull the mom card and require my family to sit around the dinner table and recount their favorite memories from the past few months. (It's similar to Thanksgiving's "go around the table and say something you're thankful for," but without the pumpkin pie chaser. Not everyone considers this a loss.)<br /><br />We've done this dance enough years now that I've seen a pattern emerge: the memories my children cherish most are always born in simple moments spent together...moments that are not being cancelled. They're made of sweet, gentle commodities that at their core are not in short supply.<br /><br />I am not so cold-hearted nor so "glad half full" as to blow off all that will not happen this summer as if it's just some dandelion gone to seed. Our children are in mourning for what they will not do, even before they haven't done it. Summer camps, festivals, fairs, vacations, gatherings...all of these remain uncertain at best. If they do not happen, there will be no replacing them, no making up for them, no waiting on next year for them. Whatever might happen where they are concerned in future summers, they are, for this summer, lost. And those losses must be acknowledged and grieved and allowed to count.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am also not being so foolhardy as to think there will not be some realities that will unfold that will create memories we'd just as soon forget.<br /><br />But when I look back on nearly two decades' worth of "my favorite memory" tellings around the late-summer supper table, I see pieces of what can still be..what we'll want to have been.<br /><br />Lazy naps on porch swings.<br />Ice cream runs. (Many.)<br />Picnics.<br />Swimming.<br />Family movie nights with the summer breeze blowing in open windows.<br />Sparklers on the lawn.<br />Campfires.<br />S'mores. (Remember: if you only eat one, it's just a "some." Don't settle for some.)<br />Camping (backyard or beyond).<br />Late-night laughter.<br />Late mornings.<br />Bike rides.<br />Walks.<br />Sunsets.<br />Family.<br />Love.<br /><br />Sometime in August, God hear my prayer, my little family will gather around our kitchen table or out on our enclosed front porch with all the screened windows open (like outdoors, but without the bugs) or back at the picnic table by our barn (outdoors, with the bugs), and I'll make my annual momnouncement: "Okay, let's go around and share our favorite memories from this summer!"<br /><br />And (God hear my prayer here, too), I know what my people will say: that for all they might have missed, they've hit the things they love most, again and again.</span></div>
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Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-61437367225621636542020-04-25T10:07:00.001-04:002020-04-25T10:10:06.938-04:00When the Show Doesn't Go On<div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Oh, band, orchestra, choir, theater, and dance students, </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">we are so sorry. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The show, they say, must go on. But for many of you—</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">especially for the members of the class of 2020 and your families and fans—i</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">t hasn’t.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We see your instruments parked in corners, your concert black dresses and tuxes hanging in the closet, your tap shoes silent for the moment, your highlighted scripts unopened.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />That solo you finally won, that coveted role you finally landed, that tricky step you finally mastered, that impossible note you finally hit...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We can understand how all these might feel stuck inside you. And we, the literal and symbolic members of an audience that would have filled a now-empty auditorium, are so sorry. Our hearts break for you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And yet our hearts also hope for you. T</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">hey hope, because we know your life show will go on. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It may go on on a different stage, but somewhere, somehow, you will make an entrance. You will sing your songs and play your notes and dance your dances and deliver your lines. You will take a bow, a curtain will close, and your audience will rise to its feet and applaud. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And when we cry, "Encore! Encore!" you will reach down and play, sing, speak, and dance the strength, grace, perseverance, and determination you are tuning right this minute. You will give that encore to us. And more importantly, you will give it to yourself.</span></div>
Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9113701246699691315.post-23632506978047197042020-04-20T08:01:00.000-04:002020-04-20T08:01:06.155-04:0050 Things I Know For Sure After 50 Years<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS6Lb4sr6rssUhvzt6V7mJZOAI_bDtCueF2oCJG6TP_JQ9fD8sD_ptaO6SYr78ea7RqyA8OufMZ9JZEqk83iuQYEKBaH0tpsHq8xJPdyqbLfWB6_hggfhVjmU0Vhmc7pTLJSVEhgo23vDR/s1600/candles2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="848" data-original-width="1280" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS6Lb4sr6rssUhvzt6V7mJZOAI_bDtCueF2oCJG6TP_JQ9fD8sD_ptaO6SYr78ea7RqyA8OufMZ9JZEqk83iuQYEKBaH0tpsHq8xJPdyqbLfWB6_hggfhVjmU0Vhmc7pTLJSVEhgo23vDR/s400/candles2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">With gratitude, a few observations from the half-century mark...</i></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">1. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When in doubt, pause, praise, and pray.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">2. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Encouragement is always a good idea.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">3. Three of the most wonderful words in the world to be able to say are, “That’s my daughter.” (And also, based on observation if not experience, “That’s my son.”)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">4. Marrying a guy you picked up in church one Sunday morning can work out beautifully.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">5. There’s no fan club like the mom fan club.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">6. Faith usually grows the most when a lot of other things in life are the least.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">7. There’s nothing quite like a friend who really knows you and likes you anyway.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">8. Lemon is one of the best flavors ever that isn’t chocolate.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">9. “Hosanna!” means “save now” and is a perfect one-word prayer.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">10. Some brains think better when the body they’re attached to is moving. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">11. When someone pays you a compliment, they are not looking for a discussion. Just say, “Thank you.” (Yes, mama.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">12. Clothesline-dried sheets are one of the best smells in the world.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">13. In a lot of life areas, my job is the input, not the outcome.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">14. The goal with any habit is to get to the place where it is not something I have to decide about every time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">15. I 100% agree with Laura on <i>Little House on the Prairie</i>: "Home is one of the nicest words there is."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">16. Life is lived in the mix of joy and sorrow, dancing and mourning, weeping and laughing, doing and stopping, clarity and confusion, having and wanting.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">17. Saying “I love you” to someone in their love language—especially when it’s not your native tongue—is in itself an act of love.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">18. I can’t only do what I feel like doing and I can’t always do what I feel like doing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">19. Pretty much any vegetable is even better when it’s roasted.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">20. Thankfulness activates peace.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">21. In general, just do the one next good thing</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">22. In baking, soda spreads and powder puffs.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">23. Also in baking, you can always add time, but you can’t take it away. And recommended baking times are almost always way too long.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">24. If you paint a wall or a room and have to talk yourself into liking the color, you don’t like it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">25. When clothes shopping, if you don’t love it in the store, you don’t love it enough to bring it home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">26. If you clean out a closet and give something away, the odds are maddeningly high that within the next 24 hours, that something will be the thing in the world you need most.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">27. Forgiveness sets someone free. Namely, you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">28. Most days, scoring anything better than zero is a win. (Thanks, sister.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">29. Grandparents are some of God’s best inventions ever.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">30. When I’ve got a destructive or distracting or discouraging track on a repeat loop in my brain, I can’t just tell myself, “Don’t think about that.” I don’t have the option of turning it off; there’s always a track running. I have to replace the old track with something new and better.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">31. There are people who live to run...and then there are people who only run for their lives. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">32. People aren’t usually expecting you to solve their problems; they just want someone safe who will listen while they unload. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">33. Weird is the new wonderful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">34. God is God of the storm before the calm.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">35. Introverts do not need to be fixed, healed, brought out of their shell, converted, or encouraged to cross over. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">36. Chocolate is the answer. I don’t actually need there to be a question.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">37. Moms do not sleep so much as they worry in a reclining position.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">38. Looking forward to something is at least half the fun of it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">39. Love is a verb, a decision, a choice</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">40. A mom is the heart of her home. This is both a weighty responsibility and a wondrous opportunity.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">41. One of the greatest gifts we can give each other is to simply notice each other: our happiness, our hurts, our triumphs, our struggles.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">42. Five of the most encouraging words to ever hear or speak are, “You’re not the only one.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">43. The following are homeschool classes I’m qualified to teach: 1)PE for SAGs (Students Against Gym); 2)Math 4 MOMs (Mothers Opposed to Math); 3)The Art & Science of Chocolate-Chip Cookies; 4)Their, They're, & There: None Of These Things Is Like the Other; 5)Apostrophes & Why You Probably Don't Need One</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">44. God likes us to come to Him hungry and thirsty and poor and weak because that's the best environment for Him to show us that He is the Bread of Life, the Living Water, our Treasure, and our Strength.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">45. Our struggles do not have to define us. But they can refine us.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">46. When you become a mom, you become a heart donor. From that moment on, a piece of your heart goes walking around outside your body. Which is why part of a mom's heart is always where her children are.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">47. Fear is fed by what we don't know. Faith is fed by who we do know.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">48. There's no better sound than one of your children laughing...unless it's the sound of all your children in the same room, laughing together.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">49. I will not rue getting older; instead, I will remember it is a privilege not enjoyed by everyone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">50. At the end of the day—good days, bad days, any day, everyday—I want my people to be able to say, “I felt loved today.”</span>Elizabeth Spencerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14323422138353699587noreply@blogger.com9