Address

 "The problem of expecting to live in a perfectly fair world is that there is no grace in that world, for grace is grace only when it is undeserved."

570 Overlook Drive, Stone Mtn GA.

I lived in 9 homes before moving into our current starter/forever home.

The only address I remember belongs to this picture.

In the spring of my 7th grade year we moved out of the only home I'd ever known in the middle of the night. I'll spare you the long story but you don't take 3 kids and leave somewhere in the middle of the night unless it's necessary.

We spent the next six months or so sleeping on air mattresses on the floor of my Uncle's weight room.

My mother had not worked outside the home since my birth and had no credit, no income, no money.

She started cleaning houses and got her dad to co-sign for her on this trailer. We moved in just before I started the 8th grade.

My mother was so excited because she'd been able to get us back into our school district.

The thing is, she also got us back onto the same bus route we rode before when we lived in our old house.

In a manner of months, I quit getting on the bus in the regular old middle class neighborhood I had the previous 7 years and started getting on the bus on the top of the hill at our new address.

I somehow became "trailer park trash" because my address changed.

I had not changed.

I remember this address, 570 Overlook Drive, because it was the first, and the last time, I let my street address define me.

46 year old me knows my mother made impossible choices. She worked hard to keep us fed, clothed and sheltered. That address to her meant her safety, our safety. It meant a new beginning. It meant showing us that setting boundaries can be done.

14 year old me wasn't this wise.

The sound of those kids taunting me as I got on the bus, I will forever hear.

But that will never hit me as hard as the thoughts that went through my own mind. The shame I feel for having those thoughts in the first place.

I've been thinking about those years at that bus stop over the last few weeks.

One of our own children has begun to comment about how other people have nicer homes, nicer things, and a grander lifestyle.

They don't bring people to our home.

They say parenting comes full circle and I definitely hear my own adolescent awful thoughts circling my head while my heart feels hurt that I've raised a child who defines themself by their address.

I've had a hard time gifting this child space to work through this and have tried to make my mantra "How you feel about our home says nothing about me, and everything about YOU."

Our home is GRAND by many standards. It's (almost) fully ours. We've managed to pay for this home on one full time income despite returning to college, raising 3 children, navigating health challenges and much more.

The furniture is a hodge podge of mismatched hand me downs or thrifting finds that have come our way. We've learned the beauty of God's provision is you are willing to wait for it. Lean into it. Trust it will come.

There is no renovating or updating because in a house that is over 20 years old, something necessary is always breaking. We are blessed that we can fix that which breaks. That an emergency fund exists for ..you know...emergencies.

We have enough space that we can welcome family members and random teenagers as people need a soft space to fall. My dining room table is long enough to always pull up another chair.

I feel the same defensive thing my own mother must have felt.

We've provided a home when what the world often describes is merely a house structure.

I was thinking this morning as I laced those shoes up and walked my prayer walk up and down my street how often we judge others by something as superficial as their address.

Insteading of embracing that their current address has a story to tell that is worthy of hearing, we make harsh judgements on what our eyes can see.

The summer I turned 19 I had the first of several surgeries that would require me to take some time off of college.

I got two jobs while taking a few classes and rented a room.

That room?

Yep. Right back in that trailer park , just a different address.

You see - I don't remember that address anymore.

Being on my own was important to me. Paying my own way. Figuring out the BIG things.

My address no longer mattered to me, and I didn't care what other people thought.

I had many friends over the year I lived there for popcorn and movies, pizza and games. I was never before, and never again, so proud of a house key.

The people who really loved me didn't choose to spend time with me because of my address.

Perspective is a gift.

Mama Warriors, let's be careful how we respond to those based on what we can see.

Give grace.

Always gift people the generosity that you believe there is a story behind the address. A beautiful, God written story.

Sure, you, and I , may be wrong every now and then.

But I'd rather go through life thinking the very best of everyone I encounter rather than the worst.

Because you see, a young teen being called trailer park trash day in and day out, it's something that sticks with them. And they didn't come up with that on their own - some adult modeled that behavior. In that adult's actions, they learned my address meant I was "less than" them.

Maybe you need to work on your verbiage when you talk about diverse people. Maybe you need to work on your verbiage when you talk about politics. Maybe you need to work on your word choice when you talk about current events.

Little ears are picking up on your tone and your connotations.

Our address doesn't make us better or worse people. Just like our political party affiliation, our stance on masks, our take on current events, etc.

Telling your kids people wearing masks are stupid is no different than that kid telling me I was trash.

I could list hundreds of those types of examples,

If we want our kids to define themselves by their character, then we have to model defining others by ONLY their character.

Not their address.

Not their stance on this or that.

Not their skin color.

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72

 On the last and greatest day of the festival, Jesus stood and said in a loud voice, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink. John 7: 37

“Come, all you who are thirsty,

come to the waters; Isaiah 55:1

About 2 weeks ago I decided I was going to drink water.

Up until that time, I literally never drank water. In my defense, I didn't drink many liquids at all so in the 3 I chose a day, water was not one of them.

I did drink water until my gastro stuff, and then it became where water sloshed around in my empty system and made me feel worse. So I stopped and replaced it with sipping on gastro friendly teas. And then that habit stuck.

The first week I got in about 24 ounces of water a day. I'm going to confess. I rarely have felt worse.

I decided to stick with it because occasionally my stubborn streak pays off and week two I got in 48 ounces of water a day and the headaches, general unwellness started to subside.

By this week I'm up to at least 72 ounces a day, sometimes more.

I bought myself this fancy water bottle that fits in my cup holder and we are now a traveling duo.

One day last week I left the house with my water bottle, but also bought myself a large CFA sweet tea. Because CFA sweet tea. By the time I drank the tea, I just wasn't thirsty for the water. As the day neared an end, I had a headache come on that just wouldn't go away.

The funny thing about this whole water drinking thing is I felt fine BEFORE I ever drank a drop. No headaches, no unwell feelings.

Until my body adjusted to the new intake of liquids, I had headaches and unwell feelings.

And now, if I don't get my full 72 ounces a day, I am back to feeling unwell.

My body didn't know it needed water until I gave it water and now it's decided "Yes, we like this water. Must have."

On my walk I was thinking about how this water experience for me as been similar to my spiritual walk.

I was really "happy" for years just doing the "Christian thing." I went to church, volunteered for this or that, attended the small groups, occasionally read some devotion materials.

But then I had this spiritual crisis and I began to dig deep. I started wrestling. I started reading voraciously. I added youtube sermons and podcasts to my daily routine. I went from 0 - 8 ounces of spiritual water, to the full 72 if not more.

And my soul has decided that 72 is what I need.

Sort of funny as I made it 40ish years on 0 -8 daily.

This 72 of spiritual life is so much more.

It's more challenging in some ways because I won't be spoon fed my beliefs.

However, this faith of mine, it's earned and authentic in every way.

Over the last week I've been scattered. I'm in back to school planning mode. We've navigated car troubles (again), family strife (again), changing responsibilities (again).

I haven't been able to write or process any of that.

Because I'm spiritually thirsty.

I've been trying to live a poured out life of 72 while intaking 0 - 8.

Mama Warriors, as we all begin to switch gears this week, preparing ourselves and our kids for that back to school season, let's remember we were made to live a life of 72.

Not just a check the basics off the list, but a fully poured IN and OUT life.

Give yourself 72 and you just might find that 72 is what you need.

Passengers

 "The path I have been led down Is part of Gods plan for me; this path is not something to be endured until I reach His plan. This is His plan."

"He delivered the Israelites out of Egypt but they still had to cross the Red Sea and wander in the wilderness and starve and be bitten by serpents and wonder if they would ever enter the Promised Land."

This morning, on the way home from church, Peanut and I got behind this car.

On the back windshield it said something like "Going slowly my baby boy just had head surgery."

So I may have ugly cried at the red light by the Walmart.

For this Mama who has endured more than she should have to ever carry.

And for the community we live in where you need to write "Give me grace for my burdens" on our cars in order for people to gift us a little room to navigate our own journey.

Why is it we feel what we WANT is more imperative than what others need?

Maybe it's just because the last 4 years I've been intermittently riding with teenage drivers, but I've definitely noticed our community has little respect for traffic laws and even less for new drivers.

I think we are all teen drivers in some area of our life.

Navigating a new and overwhelming task, with large responsibilities and potential consequences, without the grace of those around us.

People are honking and yelling because we are walking the journey differently than they are. Different than they think we should.

We aren't a community that assumes the other person is doing the best with the knowledge they've been given.

Driving slowly with the six month old baby who has had head surgery because they've been told to be extra careful.

Multiple times lately my readings have taken me back into the desert.

With the wanderers.

We all want to be out of Egypt but we don't want to endure the travel.

Mama Warriors, we are the cusp of another school year. For those following, the COVID numbers are on the rise again with the Delta variant hitting our area.

For a moment before you honk your horn or make that ugly comment, remember the baby that had head surgery who without that sign, you wouldn't have known they were in the car. Maybe when you ordinarily would have had ugly things to say about their slow speed or passed them unsafely in a turn lane, now you know to gift them space.

Maybe the person who you engage a mask conversation with has lost a relative. Or a close friend. Or both.

Or maybe like someone we met recently, he and his wife both battled in the hospital. He came home and she didn't.

Maybe you don't go to bed each night praying for someone else's kid who doesn't have a mama here. But we do in our house.

Let's give each other the benefit of the doubt that we are making the best decisions given what's riding in our own car.

And embrace the idea that perhaps if your passengers were different, you might walk something differently regardless of what the controversial issue it is.

Let's love God and love people.

New Shoes

 "Legacy is NOT what you accomplish.

Legacy is what OTHERS accomplish because of you."

Buying new shoes has been on my list for a long time. The last time I bought shoes was 2012. I loved those pink shoes and wore them until this year when they literally fell apart.

In the midst of waiting to replace my shoes, these hand me down shoes showed up at my house.

The first time I put them on, I immediately said "No. These are not a good fit."

They are higher than my old shoes and hit my heel bone in an odd place. They feel differently on my feet. I was not a fan.

However, I am currently without tennis shoes and these did show up (you know I love FREE things) so I decided I'd wear them for my morning walks until I get around to replacing them.

Each time I walk in them, they feel a little more like "my shoes."

I've gotten used to the different fit and feel have decided these will do until stuff around here quits breaking and falling apart.

At first they felt like I was walking in someone else's shoes.

But now they feel like mine.

As I laced them up yesterday and headed out with Father Mike (on podcast of course) for my walk, I pondered this idea of struggling through the initial discomfort with something new until it becomes comfortable.

Far too often, I think I give on something because it initially doesn't feel natural or like a good fit.

I've often heard that God grows you best OUTSIDE your comfort zone.

In the new shoes.

Because wearing new shoes stretches us to break them in. We have to dig in, do the hard work, and find our footing.

Too often, I think we are either people who just keep wearing the old shoes that no longer serve us in this season, or we continually buy new shoes and never stick with one pair long enough to break them in.

Some of the best things in my life were at one time new shoes.

Teen me swore she'd never be a teacher. No money, little respect and not how I was going to "change the world."

20 something me swore she'd never get married. I'd never do the traditional "white picket fence" life. No interest.

30 something me swore she'd never homeschool her kids. I'd never wear the denim jumper and become some Amish version of myself (denim jumper is still a no but Amish is looking better and better).

40 something me never says never.

She puts on the new shoes when she's called to, often begrudgingly with a few complaints, because she's learned that new shoes are the path to growth. And growth is inevitable.

Mama Warriors as we prepare to enter a new season, with a new school year on the horizon, let's be people looking for new shoes.

Let's step into the roles and places He calls us to with the knowledge that at first it won't feel like our old worn out tennis shoes, but that in time, these new shoes will become ours.

Let's be people who wear the new shoes long enough to break them in before tossing them aside.

New shoes give you the opportunity to leave a legacy.

Bowling

 "It's not enough to be busy; so are the ants. The question is: What are we busy about?" Henry David Thoreau

Tuesday morning Peanut and I got an assortment of teenagers out the door to various jobs and decided to head out to spend the morning together. Just the two of us.

We did some shopping, we enjoyed a leisurely walk in the botanical gardens and we ended our morning at the bowling alley.

Peanut was SUPER excited.

We had not yet made it to use our "free" summer kids bowling passes.

She loved game one. Had a blast.

I suggested we head out after one game. I've bowled with young kids before and like many activities, it's usually good to leave on a high note.

Nope. Peanut wanted to stay for game two.

About half way through game two, Peanut was getting discouraged. Having a hard time throwing the ball now that her arms were tired.

On the 10th frame of the last game, Peanut started hysterically screaming.

Her socks (which she hasn't worn in months) had rubbed against her foot in the ill fitted bowling shoe and rubbed a blister she already had, causing the skin to come off and it to bleed.

She was full on having a meltdown.

I took her sock and shoe off, tended to the area. Reminded her that I knew it hurt and it was hard, but there was no other first aid option we had at the moment.

Much like an object in motion stays in motion, a Peanut in a meltdown continues to scream.

I bowled my last frame, returned our balls and shoes. Thanked the bowling employee for the incredible customer service. Gathered our things, and took Peanut's hand.

We left the bowling alley with her still hyperventilating.

Once we were outside, and no longer infringing upon anyone else's bowling experience, I sat with Peanut and said

"This hurts. You are feeling hurt. And sad because you were having a good time and now you can't think about the fun bowling. You can only think about the pain in your foot. That's okay."

Peanut, myself, and all her BIG feelings just sat in the parking lot until we both could move forward.

As we drove home, I felt like digging out a gold parenting sticker for myself.

Late 20s me would have been embarrassed my child was making a scene in the bowling alley.

She probably would have said something utterly impossible like "Stop crying." She She utterly impossible like "Stop crying."

She probably would have said something utterly impossible like "Stop crying."

She definitely wouldn't have had a kind tone or a loving response because she would have been more focused on HERSELF than letting the child navigate the hard time.

Mid 40s me has learned that sometimes you need to cry.

Life is hard, painful, challenging.

Never in the history of parenting has anyone yelling at a child to stop crying made a child authentically feel better and thus not cry. Not once.

Instead we teach kids that their authentic emotions aren't okay.

It doesn't really matter what "Team T-Rex" from the bowling lane next to us thinks about me, my parenting, or even Peanut.

Mama Warriors, sometimes it can be hard to sit with folks and their big messy feelings. Because for many of us it's different.

We were raised to "stop crying" and not let others know when you are hurt, sad, angry, frustrated. So if we don't know how to feel our own BIG feelings, it can be challenging to support someone who does.

We have so much to gain by becoming people who can sit with others.

Jesus sat with people where they were at.

He met them IN the mess.

In fact, I'd dare to say there were a bunch of people walking around in Jesus' time who never had the benefit of His wisdom because they couldn't let Him see their need.

I encourage you as we finish out these last hot summer weeks, to count to 3 before you respond to your people.

Is your response really what THEY need?

Or are you responding out of your own place of not being able to handle a few looks from the T Rex team or the messy emotions?

Make space for the mess.