Category Archives: Growing Up

Day 20 – Dishpan Hands

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Do you have a household task that you are grateful for?

Those are the words on today’s 30-days of gratitude chart. I have a very easy answer.

No.

I hate to clean.

I’ve listened to my friends talk about the stress relief of cleaning their homes top to bottom, the relaxation they receive from dusting knick knacks, vacuuming miles of carpet, scrubbing toilets, or taking a toothbrush to their shower grout. Not me.

The only stress relief I receive from cleaning is when I don’t have to do it. Which never happens so yes…I have a lot of anxiety…mostly about household tasks.

I grew up with a mother who wasn’t too concerned about keeping an immaculate house. If she told us to clean the house, we asked, “who’s coming over?” because that was really the only timCleaning_and_Babies_poeme we worried about it. Now don’t get me wrong – we didn’t live in a hovel.  The house wasn’t an episode from Hoarders (until recently, and that’s a whole other blog). My mom’s mantra was “you’ll always have a house to clean, so spend time with your kids while you have them.” Great philosophy.  I guess I inherited that gene.
I still adhere to the philosophy I bought into when I had young children: “If you want to see my house, call ahead. If you want to see me, come on over.”

I clean as much as necessary. I vacuum, dust, sweep and mop floors, scrub the tub and toilet, and occasionally, declutter my closets. But I don’t enjoy it. Ever.

If I had one household task that I had to say I was grateful for – it would be washing dishes…by hand. We’ve never had an automatic dishwasher so I’ve washed a lot of plates and glasses in the last 30 years. I started using this time to think about stuff. Nothing like a sink full of dirty dishes to get the creative juices flowing. (insert laughter). But truthfully, since no one wanted to do the dishes, I was never bothered with “Mom, can I…? or “Mom, would you…? Made for a perfect quiet time.

I came to appreciate the blessing of running water when Cedar Rapids flooded in 2008, therefore I don’t complain that I HAVE to wash dishes. I GET to wash dishes. I have clean water to drink, wash dishes, make tea, boil potatoes, whatever. So I guess I am grateful for the household task of washing dishes…though it is near the bottom of my list of things I’d like to be doing on a sunny afternoon.

Day 18 – Mrs. Highland

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I’ve loved my teachers since I started kindergarten way back in the olden days. I can remember each one very vividly, which should scare some of us. Teachers are such a huge influence in the lives of our kids – mostly for good, occasionally one or two not so good. For the most part I have great memories of good teachers who loved their students and were dedicated to their calling of training up the next leaders of our society.

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First day of school, some unknown year, standing in the middle of the road

 

In first grade, my original teacher broke her leg right before the school year began so we had Mrs. Highland as our substitute teacher for over half the year. I loved Mrs. Highland. And she obviously loved her students. Because I started my “school life” with her, she became the next most important female in my life (after my mom). I’m so grateful I had that positive reinforcement in my young life. Because I could read before I got to first grade and often finished assignments before others, Mrs. Highland asked if I would like to help some of the other students occasionally. I guess I did okay, because she told my mom that “Kris should become a teacher.” I was six – not really thinking about my life’s calling at that time in my life. I think back then I wanted to grow up to be a waitress.

But Mrs. Highland was attuned to her students so well that she saw talents and giftings in her little group of six-year-olds…way before others were even looking. She encouraged us to try harder and go beyond our assignment. When we were concentrating on learning 2 + 2, she was seeing future city leaders and attorneys. While we sounded out our Dick and Jane Readers, she was envisioning teachers and doctors and priests. She gave us resources that pushed our little six-year-old minds to dream big, to see ourselves for the valuable human beings we were…even in first grade.

 

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The youngest class picture I could locate. I’m top row, second from the right.

My home town is a small village in northern Illinois with a small school of kindergarten through high school encompassed in one building. As first graders, we often saw and interacted with high school students so we had opportunity to dream about being like the “big kids.” Mrs. Highland already saw us as “big kids” and beyond.

 

I missed Mrs. Highland for many years after I left first grade, though I was able to see her often. She was always the kindest and most encouraging woman, even when I finally reached “big kid” status. And I’ll never forget her “prophecy” over me – I didn’t become an officially trained and certified school teacher, but I’ve been teaching my whole life…tutoring other students in high school and college, home schooling my own two children, teaching women’s classes and now privately tutoring elementary, high school and adult students.

Mrs. Highland saw something in me when I was six years old. She looked for the gifts each of her students possessed, even if those talents weren’t finely tuned or sophisticated. I want to be able to do that with my kids…all of them. Each student I tutor becomes one of my kids. Each one is special and unique in their own gifts and talents. Some are naturally outgoing and loaded with personality. Others are quieter, shy in the presence of me as a stranger. But I remember my first grade teacher, Mrs. Highland, and how much she encouraged me to reach farther, that nothing is impossible, no matter how old you are.

When I grow up, I want to be just like Mrs. Highland.

Day 13 – Connected and Disconnected

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“What technology are you grateful for?”

I remember pre-microwaves, pre-Internet, pre-home computers, and pre-flat screen TVs. I remember when you had to watch your favorite TV show the first time, because there was no guarantee it would ever be on again. We did have reruns, but no way to know when a particular show would re-air. I remember when social media consisted of picking up the party line and listening to your neighbor’s conversations. I remember when I got to use one of the four electric typewriters in my Typing class in high school for one quarter. Otherwise, we were stuck with the manual ones. I remember being so excited when my uncle had a console color television delivered to our house for Christmas one year. Color TV! Oh yeah, we were so cool. I remember when my parents had their kitchen remodeled and it included a flat cook top and double oven. I remember when we got a really long cord on our home phone so I could sit in the living room and talk to my friends. I remember when my brothers would call on the holidays and we would pass around the long-corded handset to each family member in attendance.  I remember taking a dime (and later, a quarter) to my high school basketball games so I could use the pay phone to call my mom to come get me. If I forgot the quarter, I just called “collect.” Do they even offer collect calls anymore? Do they even have pay phones?

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Not proud that I held that phone throughout the whole wedding reception. Taking pictures was my excuse.

Technology has improved our lives dramatically…and yet, complicated them as well. No longer do we gather around one phone handset to talk to family members. We each stare at our own phones, texting our holiday greetings in words and not voices. When I was growing up, my dad and I talked about movies and actors and who starred in which TV series and when.  Now we wouldn’t need to debate those things – we have the IMDb app to prove our opinion.

 

Of course, I could go on and on. Most of you can remember what life was like prior to the expansion of  technology in the last 50 years. In many ways, I miss the simplicity of life then, but I don’t think I’d turn in my iPhone to go back. I enjoy being able to connect with my friends and far away family on Facebook or to talk/text my kids in far away places at any time (without calling “collect” – I don’t think they’d accept). I enjoy watching my niece dance on live Instagram. I like checking in with my husband multiple times of the day, just to say “Love You” with a little heart emoji.

I certainly don’t want to lose the ease of keyboarding on a laptop from a coffee shop, blogging my thoughts about technology, or life, or gratitude. I like Amazon and Google and dictionary.com.  I need my flash drives because my memory isn’t what it used to be. I’m attached to my e-reader and touchscreen laptop. Though I receive too many, I enjoy reading my emails and shopping online.

So I guess it comes down to balance. Keeping perspective about the old ways and adapting to new ways. The expansion of ways to “know” things has expanded beyond our ability to keep up. If you read all day, you wouldn’t be able to digest the amount of words being written just on the msn home page alone.

Technology will never replace sitting down around the kitchen table for a meal with my family. Cyber hugs will never be as satisfying as real ones. Maybe we should determine to put down our technology once in awhile, and connect the old fashioned way – face to face, not FaceTime. Mano y mano, not selfies. Rants around the water cooler, not anonymously on Twitter. Coffee in a real cup  listening with actual ears, to flesh-and-blood people in need of real connection.

I challenge you to leave your phone at home the next time you go out with friends. Who’s going to call you anyway? You can check the game scores later. Technology is here to stay, but you still control how much it controls you.

Day 8 – A Tradition Unlike Any Other

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I hope Augusta National Inc. doesn’t come after me. The title of today’s blog is a trademark they filed in 2014, after veteran sportscaster Jim Nantz coined the phrase almost 30 years ago. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, just walk away right now. Save yourself a few minutes of your day. Tradition, in the McGarvey household, is spelled S-P-O-R-T-S.

We love almost every sport although we have had a few discussions (i.e. arguments, debates) about what constitutes a “sport.” I think we’ve gone both ways on horse racing, non-Olympic year curling and rhythmic gymnastics (Olympic sport or not). We most closely follow  the Big Four (baseball, basketball, football and golf) though we make exceptions for the Daytona 500, the Triple Crown and the Indianapolis 500.

The McGarveys could not care less about robins and groundhogs…in our house, the signal of Spring’s arrival is March Madness, the Final Four, baseball’s Opening Day and The Masters. Ah!  I can smell the magnolias already.

Our tradition starts with an email from David informing us of our March Madness brackets. We started filling out individual brackets when the boys were pretty young. I would photocopy the big one printed in the Monday USA Today, the morning after the announcement. When it came to picking winners, age made no difference…Sean always, always, always correctly picked one of the underdogs, but overall it usually came down to Don or David. Now, of course, we’re all high-tech with on-line brackets on various websites. Doesn’t matter to me – I still get killed in the second round.

Televised basketball games run non-stop from that opening Thursday morning through Sunday evening…and then start up again the following weekend, until there are only four teams remaining and my living room spells like a locker room, dirty socks and all. I loved it.

Each year, the men’s championship basketball game is played on a Monday night, followed by the start of The Masters (“a tradition unlike any other”) on Thursday. David used to take off from work the four days of The Masters. He almost cried when his friend scheduled his wedding on Masters Saturday. (Really? Who does that?)

Our favorite players don’t need last names (Zach, Jordan, Jason, Tiger) and we root for them as if they are our neighbors and best friends. We were all together watching when Tiger’s miraculous chip went in on the 16th hole in 2005 – and two years later, when our city’s favorite golfer claimed the green jacket – and then two years ago, when a kid the same age as our boys took home his first major championship by 4 strokes.  Just a few of our favorite memories.

This year…oh boy!…this year, baseball’s Opening Night game is the Sunday prior to the men’s basketball championship. AND, it’s the Cubs versus the Cardinals in St. Louis. Seriously – in our house, it can’t get any better.

To be honest, the hardest part of my empty nest thing is the loss of this bonding around our favorite sports. Our tradition took a hit when Sean went away to Ames for school. Last year, David was living in his new apartment and our living room was much neater (the couch cushions actually stayed on the couch all weekend) and no one ate any snacks or drank any Dr. Pepper. Even my boys notice and try to help me. Last fall, Sean and I watched a post-season Cubs game on bar stools at a bowling alley in Ames. David made it a point of coming home for Game 7 of the World Series so he could be with me when my team won (and wasn’t that a nail-biter!?) Not sure what I’ll do this year – may need to Skype in Sean when my Cardinal-loving men start trashing my Cubbies. Except, this year, I can give it back. #WorldSeriesChamps

The Story of a Song

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“Please, sweet baby. Just go to sleep.” The poor mama was almost in tears. So many late nights trying to get her young son to sleep. She knew that once he settled down, he would be fine, but he was stubborn and just would not fall to sleep without her presence. Their apartment was too small to allow him to “cry it out” which was the suggestion almost everyone gave the new parents.

“He’ll stop soon enough. Let him cry.” Well, he must not have listened to their advice because he could cry, and cry, and cry, without wearing down at all. Conscious of their thin walls, and trying to be good neighbors, they could not allow the noise to go on very long. So far, her only solution was taking him out of his crib and resting with him on the spare double bed in the baby’s room.

“Please, sweetie. Just sleep.” Her pleas met deaf ears. His eyes stayed bright and alert. The baby giggled and cooed as his mama snuggled with him on top of the handmade quilt.

“Lord, help me. I don’t know what to do.” She had prayed every day (and night) for a solution. She knew God cared about every facet of her life, even the amount of sleep she got, so she knew He would give her guidance in this area too.

Finally, when she thought the only solution was sleeping in that double bed every night, she had a sudden thought.

“Sing.” Sing?

“Lord, I’m not a very good singer. I don’t know very many lullabies.”

But that still, small voice kept whispering, “sing.”

Wracking her brain, she tried to think of pop tunes, or lullabies or even hymns to sing to her brown-eyed baby boy, but she came up empty. Except for one little tune with simple lyrics.

“He won’t care what I sound like. He’s just a baby. He won’t even remember.”

So she started to sing…

“O Lord, You’re beautiful.

Your face is all I seek.

For when Your eyes are on this child,

Your grace abounds to me.

I wanna take Your Word and shine it all around,

But first help me just to live it, Lord.

And when I’m doing well, help me to never seek a crown,

For my reward is giving glory to You.”

Over and over, she sang the lyrics to this simple chorus, until it was no longer just a lullaby to her baby, but a song of worship from her heart. She didn’t just sing the song, she prayed the song. That little baby didn’t miraculously fall asleep the minute his mama started singing, but he watched her and he listened to her and his little spirit eventually grew quiet. Each night, she sang to her little guy until one night, she didn’t have to. He fell asleep on his own, without her off-key voice and simple songs. Sleep, blessed sleep.

David_Mom_asleepLooking back on those nights, I don’t remember my scratchy eyes (and voice). I don’t remember the sense of helplessness or even hopelessness. I don’t remember feeling like a stupid new parent. I remember the peace that came over my little boy, the intimate times of worship in that small bedroom, the quiet presence of the Holy Spirit as I sang that simple, but powerful, song to my firstborn. I didn’t realize it then but God answered my prayers. Not just the one asking for David to fall asleep, but the one embedded in the song. Because God’s eyes weren’t just on me, His eyes were on my child. And what He planted in my little boy – a love of music, a desire to worship and a boldness to give glory to God wherever he goes – started in that little apartment in the middle of the dark nights when he refused to sleep until his mom sang the lyrics to that Keith Green chorus, over and over.

I’m grateful for that little song. I cry every time my beautiful daughter-in-law sings those words while her husband, my little stubborn brown-eyed firstborn son, accompanies her on guitar or piano. It’s still the cry of my heart. Not so my baby will fall asleep, but so my soul awakens to the grace and glory of God.

My Top Five Dads

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It’s the day after Fathers Day. My Facebook newsfeed was overwhelmed with tributes to dads literally around the globe. I love Fathers Day. I love celebrating the lives of influential men. Because I had a wonderful dad, I want others to experience the unconditional love of a heavenly Father. I am blessed to have so many examples of exceptional dads and it’s never too late to honor them.

First, though the title says five dads, in actuality, I am grouping a few. And the order isn’t really relevant either. These guys are amazing and would make any list of top dads.

I am so thankful for this guy. He has raised (along with his wonderful wife) four beautiful children, including my “new” daughter-in-law.

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Ric Lumbard & daughter Tristen

My son is blessed and so, I am blessed as well. I know this girl was raised to love God and to love others. Her dad modelled what it means to be a godly husband and father. She was raised knowing about commitment, faithfulness and prayer – all essentials for a successful marriage. Thanks, Ric, for being a great dad!

 

 

 

 

Three of the greatest blessings of my life are my brothers-in-law, two of whom are fathers. Even though two are Cardinal fans, and the other one roots for the Packers, they are all wonderful guys, who have raised great kids and love their family well.

I love my brothers. At my son’s recent wedding they all showed up and absolutely made my day. They love me, love their wives & kids, love their nieces & nephews, and enjoy being together. We have more fun together now than we ever had as kids!

My boys didn’t have grandparents who lived close by so they were blessed with many men who stepped in as surrogate grandparents. One of them was Ron Dunmire. He treated my boys as though they were his own grandkids, loving them, taking them out to play golf, or eat, or even on vacation. We miss this guy so much. He was an exceptional friend and heaven is richer on this Fathers Day.

 

My daddy loved his girls. He’s been gone for 13 years but I miss him very much. There are days I think, “boy, Dad would have loved this,” or “Dad, I wish you could see your grandkids now.” He wasn’t perfect but I never doubted his love. I credit my dad for my work ethic, loyalty to my employer, and most especially, my sense of direction.

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Finally, my favorite dad is the father of my kids.

Don has modeled what it means to be a godly man everyday for his boys. He never apologized for loving God with all his heart, soul, mind and strength. He has always been an example of how to love your wife, how to lead your home, how to live for Christ. He is his own worst critic and yet he teaches and lives out the Word of God every day. My kids could not have had a better earthly father…one who consistently points to and relies on his Heavenly Father.My only regret? He’s a Cardinals fan. But it does add a certain spice to our marriage…

Thanks Dads – for all you do, for all you are, and for all you mean to your families!
P.S. – Did anyone actually count? I posted about six dads. Too funny to change it now 🙂

 

 

Overalls – All Over

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Cedar Rapids, Iowa – my current home town. I’ve lived here for almost 27 years and worked downtown for the last eight.

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Overhead view of Cedar River at flood stage, June, 2008

In 2008, our downtown was devastated by “the great flood” and it has taken a tremendous amount of vision, finances and hard work to rebuild. But I’m very proud of this little city and all it has accomplished in the last 8 years.

There are new buildings, new businesses and a new mindset – rebranding themselves into a destination spot, not just a place to live and work. I’ve enjoyed watching the changes, as I walk around over my lunch hour. NewBo, Czech Village, Oak Hill Jackson neighborhood and the downtown area itself have all been transformed. The city’s latest project is Overalls All Over – celebrating native son and celebrated artist Grant Wood’s 125th birthday. He lived in Cedar Rapids almost his whole life and created beautiful paintings in a style later known as Regionalism, where an artist paints what he/she lives with, in or around.

Probably Grant Wood’s most famous painting was “American Gothic,” created in 1930.Grant_Wood_-_American_Gothic_-_Google_Art_Project A cultural icon, it is displayed at the Art Institute of Chicago. Wood drew a picture of a small farm cottage near Eldon, Iowa, and placed in front of it the likenesses of his sister and a Cedar Rapids dentist (no, not a farmer). Trivia note: They never really stood in front of that house or even together.

The Overalls All Over project includes 25 life-sized statues of the American Gothic likeness and they are displayed all over Cedar Rapids (as well as one in front of the famous home in Eldon, Iowa).

Since I walk all over Cedar Rapids every weekday, I took a few snapshots of the various statues. Some are fun and quirky, others impressive and creative. I’m looking forward to finding a few more in the weeks ahead as the project continues until September.

 

 

 

 

On the Coe College campus, depicting local TV station, KCRG TV9

One of my favorites (so far) – in front of Czech & Slovak Museum, currently housing an Andy Warhol display

In front of Cedar Rapids Bank and Trust on 1st Avenue, NE

The CR Museum of Art has a permanent Grant Wood display

Couldn’t help myself. Had to get a picture with the “Go” statue. Go-go boots on her and “Do Not Pass Go” guy from Monopoly. This one is in front of the NewBo City Market.

Near Mercy Medical Center on 4th Avenue SE

Outside the Gazette Building across from Greene Square and CR Museum of Art on 5th Street SE

The man is a selfie of Grant Wood, standing outside his studio on 2nd Ave SE

Outside the new Iowa Brewing Company restaurant on 3rd St SE

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The guardians of the Cedar Rapids Public Library

 

Take a fun few hours and visit our little city. Restaurants are great. Easy walking or biking trails can take you everywhere. And, we have overalls all over.

 

A Little Girl All Grown Up

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See the little serious flower girl? Somehow the last 28 years have passed in a blink on an eye because she’s getting married tomorrow. 

  
My niece Kim – a flower girl at my wedding and sweetest cousin to my boys – heads down the aisle to marry her Prince Charming Travis. She is lovely and smart, cute and sparkly, brave and loyal.

Five years ago she was in Japan during the horrible earthquake & tsunami, only a few short miles from the horrific devastation. For many hours we didn’t know if she was safe or even where she was. Completing her year as a kindergarten teacher in a Japanese school, she stayed after the earthquake to help restore some normalcy in the lives of her kids. She even went back a year later to once again aid in rebuilding a country she had fallen in love with. She’s one of my heroes. 

  
The middle child sometimes becomes overlooked by the antics of older & younger siblings, but Kim was always the picture of grace. I’m sure she had her moments but I lived 250 miles away so I never saw it.  She spent a week each summer with her childless Aunt Kris & Uncle Don, but I’m sure she enjoyed it more when I had babies to play with. 

  
Don is so honored to be included in her ceremony. He used to take her to the donut shop when he lived close and before he married me. In fact, she wasn’t so sure about her “Unca Don” picking a different “best girl” when I showed up. Took me the better part of my first weekend to win her over…pretty pathetic to see a grown woman jealous of a 3-year-old.  
Tonight I’m writing this blog as they rehearse tomorrow’s ceremony. The maneuvering of the bridal party, the squirming little ring & sign-bearers, the music, and giggles, and nervousness…all in preparation for the beginning of her new life as Mrs. Travis Barnhart. I love her and I’m so excited to see my flower girl become the bride – a little girl all grown up. 

The Many Faces of Fear (part 1)

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Are you afraid of anything?

Yellow-necked Mouse (Apodemus flavicollis) juvenileMost people have at least one thing they fear –mice (me), snakes (me, again), spiders, clowns, small places, heights, flying, needles, and even balloons. In fact, the phobia list is extensive – from Ablutophobia (the fear of washing or bathing) to Zoophobia (the fear of animals). The Top 100 Phobia List includes all of the above plus fear of public speaking, fear of crowds, fear of zombies (really?) and of course, the fear of fear. There is even a phobia called Theophobia, or the irrational and persistent fear of God.

For someone who suffers with a phobia, there is no logic, no talking them out of it, no advice to “get over it.” The fear is very real. I’ve read that phobias are the mind’s way of protecting itself. Somewhere along your timeline of experiences, something triggered an emotional link to a bad situation.I can certainly attest to this with my irrational fear of little ,cuddly, cute rodents. I know it’s illogical. I know I’m way bigger. And I know that “they are more scared of you than you are of them.” Doesn’t help.

Some people have allowed these fears to overwhelm them to the point of avoiding life and any situation that may put them in a fearful circumstance. Fear of flying means only taking ground transportation. Fear of clowns means no circuses or carnivals. Fear of zombies? Not sure how that one plays out in real life – since zombies aren’t real, but you get my drift. Fear of mice means I avoid any area where I know mice are located…and run like crazy or jump on the nearest piece of somewhat sturdy furniture whenever I encounter the little buggers. My family loves to tell the story of the time I jumped up onto a chair and left my baby boy on the floor when a mouse zipped by.  I think the tale (or is it tail?) has been embellished somewhat from the reality of the situation, but they like to laugh about it and David seems to be okay, so no harm done. Except the guilt I now have for abandoning my baby because I’m terrified of mice.

There is help to be had – if you’re willing to be vulnerable and ask for it. I’ve experienced it in other areas of my life…now I just have to tackle the mouse problem. Of course, God can heal you of your fear but since it is wrapped up in past experiences and emotions, He has provided a method of clearing this trauma and a group of people who are currently traveling around the US and internationally, teaching this method so fear no longer has a grip upon us. Wind and Fire Ministries has a division called WFM Peace Clinic, a workshop based training designed to help clear post-traumatic stress, panic, fear, anxiety, anger, running away, nightmares, addictions, coping habits, phobias, weight gain, pain storage, lack of concentration, and more. Ummm…that’s a lot of fear. Originally designed to help restore the victims of human trafficking, this workshop has proven to give assistance to anyone who deals with victims of fear and phobias. If you have fear yourself, or deal with others who do, this is an opportunity to be free and embrace peace.

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(Part 2 – another face – fear of man…)

 

 

Parenting Through Broken Dreams and Battered Promises

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Parenting is hard.

In fact, the actual act of giving birth is the easiest part. Once those big brown (or green or blue) eyes look into your soul and those little fingers get a grip around your heart, you are toast. And the pressure to be everything they need is overwhelming. It’s really the hardest and longest battle of any parent’s life ~ the battle to let them go.

It starts around age two. Some call it the “terrible 2s” – not sure why – just because my beautiful compliant baby has now learned the word “no” and refuses to wear clothes in public?

We work so hard to help our kids learn right from wrong. We teach them colors and numbers and letters…we listen and love…doing fractions homework and science fair projects…agonizing together through middle school, watching them struggle, succeed, struggle, succeed, over and over and over.

This parenting gig is gut-wrenching.

High school – late nights listening for the garage door to open or the text to ping. Meeting new friends… people of both genders passing through your living room. You pray the lessons on purity and kindness and integrity are being lived out away from your watchful eyes. Attending the “last” of anything brings out the waterworks – last band concert, last baseball game, last youth group, last family vacation, last Christmas together in one house.

That empty nest feels like a staycation…for about a week. Then the house is too quiet, the bedroom too picked up, the laundry basket and kitchen sink too empty.

It is not easy…releasing the chick to fly on his own. And now I know – releasing would be easier if you absolutely knew they would never encounter any obstacles.

So I sit and pray…listen and love…give advice only when asked but trusting always in the wisdom that only the Holy Spirit can give…to me and to him.

He must face life now, somehow without the seat belt we buckled him in 20+ years ago. The pressure on him is intense…pressure that I know can crush. If I didn’t trust in the only One who loves him more than I do, I would be lost. He faces struggles unknown – financial, emotional, mental – as all of us do in this life journey. The adventure which was once exhilarating is now lonely and dark and fraught with danger and shadows. Fear of failure threatens him – broken dreams and battered promises line his path. He must now rely on his own faith journey, without me or his dad as a buffer.

Parenting never gets easier. A pattern never develops. There is no book that has all the answers (even the Bible couldn’t help me with the “why won’t he wear clothes?” question).

I’ve gone from parent to teacher to coach to cheerleader with stints as referee here and there. Just when you think you’ve got it, you either have another kid who is the polar opposite or the first one changes personality and temperament overnight.

My husband and I pray every morning that our kids make good choices, that doors will open and doors will close, that they would be salt and light wherever they go, that they would have favor and financial provision and wisdom. Always wisdom. May they have the courage they need to fight each battle with bravery and conviction. And that they would never give up on themselves or their dreams.

I’ll pray the same for you today…as you parent your children. We love these little bundles of joy and heartache ~ may you be armed with strength and courage, love and kindness, hope and long-suffering. May the Holy Spirit guard your mind from doubt and give you wisdom for the darkest nights and brightest days ahead.

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