All in motherhood

3 Ways To Love A Growing Tween

I am not exactly sure when it happened, but one day I woke up and realized that my oldest daughter and I were now standing eye to eye. I will admit that I realized it was bound to happen soon, being that I only stand right at five feet tall!

This new vantage point feels strange.  However, it is just the evidence of what I already knew to be true.

She is growing. 

Some days I find my mind distracted. I fall into a trance of dreaming what my life is not, but what I want it to be. It sounds awful but sometimes I dream my children are different. I dream of life being easier. I dream of solitude. Nothing extravagant, just a bathroom break by myself. I dream of being more like the lady down the street, or more like the family I see at church. I dream about a different life.

I think we’d all agree that the practical responsibilities of parenting are hard work, but what I find infinitely harder than the day in and day out things that are required of me is being the kind of parent I desire to be. Having a loving, kind, patient, joyful and thankful heart in the big and small stuff — now that’s the real challenge!

Take the other day, for instance. It was a very difficult day at the end of an awful, terrible, no good, very bad week. While I was driving in the car on this particularly trying morning, an “unnamed child” was yelling at me from the back seat because his pants weren’t tight enough, his shoelaces weren’t tied correctly, his shirtsleeves were too long, and the sky was too blue.

Gripping the steering wheel tightly while using up every last ounce of self-control left in my body, I begged, “Lord, you have got to change my son’s heart!”

The Best (and Most Resisted) Words a Mama Can Say: "Help. I don't know what I'm doing."

Death can provide an exclamation point on a life that was already expressing the glory of God. 

My friend passed between that one-day-will-be-thin sheath of death and life and I tried to remember if I'd ever told her how much of an imprint she'd left upon me.

Claire and I shared a small city but couldn't have been more different, back then. She had six children. I had none. My womb was empty -- and sometimes I wore a suit to work. I was fumbling through my twenties, both unsure of myself and also overconfident and she had bigger concerns than her weekend plans. She'd earned her grey hair.