Tacos and Clue

 "People with anxiety believe that the best defense against the worst thing happening is to take control. The best defense is acceptance."

This picture was taken around my dining room table last week.

It was an evening of tacos, a rousing game of Clue, pound cake, and the unspoken hanging in the air.

It would be the last time, for a while, my dining room looks like this.

This that has been our norm over the last few months.

Last night a piece of my heart got on a plane to go across the country on a BIG adventure.

I couldn't be more excited or proud of her for choosing to move forward amongst the hard.

I couldn't be more selfishly sad for me because she has the most authentic laugh, gives the best hugs, and makes a room a place you want to be in.

I often struggle with what and where my mission field is. I watch as some devote time to BIG and feel this twinge of guilt - where am I making a difference?

Where am I called to be?

And then one day I am standing in my kitchen, slightly teary (though I promised it was not a day for ugly crying) and I glance over at my table.

Where EVERYONE is welcome.

And I see that this beautiful young woman that we scooped up has brought another.

Because EVERYONE is welcome.

As I prayed for this scooped young woman of ours, I thanked Him for gifting me the opportunity to show up for her in the small.

I thanked her mama in heaven for all the conversations we had in a hard parenting season because I can without a doubt say her mother loved in a Mr. Rogers "just the way you are" kind of way.

I wondered if I showed up as well for her mama in life as I do in death?

That question catches me as I sip my tea through tears this morning.

Mama Warriors, do we show up for each other in life as well as we do in the hard?

We are all pretty good at signing up for the meal trains, or sending cards to those with a new challenging diagnosis, or doing a store run for a neighbor who is ill.

We show up for the funeral.

But do we show up for coffee on the average Tuesday to say "I see you doing the hard daily?"

Maybe our mission field is in creating a Jesus table - the kind where EVERYONE is welcome.

On a random Thursday night for tacos and Clue.

Voice

 "My whole life I've been complaining that my work was constantly interrupted , until I discovered the interruptions were my work."

This is my view the majority of the day.

Mo is 14 weeks old and is like having a new toddler arrive at your house. He is either into something he is not supposed to be or he's jumping/biting/pulling at my pants or whatever he can reach.

Much like the other 3 children I've brought home to this house, Mo has decided that he wants ME to pay attention to him. ME to feed him. ME to pet him. ME to take him out. He follows ME around all the time.

Mo wants and needs a lot of attention.

Where he and I are currently struggling is HOW he gets that attention.

He thinks he should rip my pant legs or sleeves on my shirt, or bite at my hands, or should I be sitting, attack my entire head. Always playful puppy bites, never mean or aggressive, but annoying and occasionally painful.

A behavior we do not want to encourage.

So we tell him "drop" or "gentle" or "sit" and then, and ONLY then do we give him a treat, play with him, and tell him "good drop" or "good gentle" or "good sit" with much enthusiasm.

Teaching him a new way to get our attention is a full time job.

As Mo is requiring a lot of my attention, I've noticed that Peanut is also beginning to exhibit attention seeking behavior.

Every ant bite is a catastrophe. Every bump or bruise comes with big tears. Every school struggle is met with a meltdown.

Much like Mo, I've been thinking about how to best respond to Peanut's wants/needs.

Much like Mo, I want to praise and give attention to the positive behaviors that I want to encourage, and little to no attention to the negative behaviors I want to stop.

I read this quote in a book this week and it resonated deep with me

"Your pain is important, but you don't have to make it bigger than it is just for me to hear you or to make it valid."

I want Peanut to feel validated in her feelings without having to make them into something larger than they are.

I also want her to know that SHE is control of her feelings and how she responds to them.

For the ant bite I say "Ouch - ant bites hurt! What might make that feel better?" ..........."An ice pack is a great strategy - why don't you grab one."

For the school struggle I might say "Learning something new really makes our brain work. Sometimes my brain works better when it has a snack and does a wiggle dance. Want to see if that works for your brain?"

Then in times when she is not in crisis mode, I say "Gosh, we've been so busy with Mo we haven't had time to play a game. How about you pick a game while I get him settled for some crate time?"

I'm trying to be more in tune to see her needs and meet them without her feeling like she has to be loud to be heard.

Mama Warriors, your pain is important and valid just as it is. You are worthy of being heard.

Sometimes I think we do the opposite of our children.

While they get louder and make their struggle more than it is, we tend to say it's all "fine."

If it's not fine, it's not fine.

Practice this week giving voice to your needs.

You are worthy of being heard.

Light

 "When God calls faith should be our response."

A few weeks ago, I walked into the kitchen in the early morning hours and flipped the light switch. The switch made this crackling noise and I immediately thought "that can't be good."

A quick call to the electrician brother let me know that the switch is bad and needs to be replaced. He generously offered to do that for us next time he is out this way.

For a week or so we continued to use the switch but only twice a day - turn on in the morning, and then turn off at night.

Then one morning I turned it on, it made this crackling noise and the light flickered and went off. No more light.

Since we already knew what the problem was (and that it's minor and not a safety hazard), I put some tape over the light switch to remind my people not to use the switch and we would wait until my brother could come and repair it for us.

One of my people complained this week about cooking in the dark kitchen.

I reminded them that there is light - there is a light on the microwave where you can illuminate the stove top. There is a light above the sink where you can see in that area.

Yes, it's significantly less light than we are accustomed to, but there is still light.

You see you have to be looking for the light now - the light does not just shine around you.

This last year has illuminated a lot for me about our community. About the people that we interact with each week in our various classes, church, errands, and recreation.

I feel like in the last year or so, the switch has broken in our community.

We are divisive. We lack true compassion for what burdens others are carrying. We are self focused.

We've become a community where people are finding light in the unchurched rather than the churched.

We've become a community where the light doesn't shine as brightly as it did before.

But much like my kitchen, we are a community where light exists.

We just have to be people who LOOK for the light.

I was reading a book this week that talked about what is known as "observer bias."

"Observer bias (also called experimenter bias or research bias) is the tendency to see what we expect to see, or what we want to see."

We see what we want to see.

If we are looking for light, we will find light.

If we are looking for darkness, we will find darkness.

And what we see, is often what we seep.

As I'm scrolling this morning, I can either be the person who sees only those without empathy or compassion, or I can be the person who sees those who love deep.

I can be the person who criticizes the team that struggles to win a game, or I can be the person who supports and encourages by focusing on the grit and perseverance.

I can be the person who critiques the short staffed, slow local restaurants or I can be the person who is kind and thankful to the handful who show up and work hard.

I can be the person who sees someone sharing negativity and feed into it, or I can share that they must feel burdened and overwhelmed. I can shed light where darkness exists.

Mama Warriors, we see what we are looking for.

And we seep what we find.

Let's be people who find the light, and thus become the light.

Let your light shine..............

Water

 "Anxiety is a method of seeking two experiences: certainty and comfort. The problem is that it wants these two outcomes immediately and continually."

It's been a busy few weeks here. Peanut caught a stomach bug at church, I ended up with some version of that, and then we brought home a puppy. Amongst the normal back to school, raising 3 kids, in a controversial pandemic.

The pool requires daily cleaning and treating. With the illnesses, I missed a few days and the water was no longer clean or clear. At this late in the season, I decided to just go ahead and take it down. We have loved it and enjoyed it, and saved it to put again next season.

When the pool was completely put away, I sat in my chair and looked at the large spot where grass no longer grows.

The weight of the pool, combined with no sunlight in that spot, caused the grass to die.

The yard is barren.

Last night I retreated to the yard to watch the puppy play before bedtime, and I sat staring at this rectangle of nothing where green grass used to be.

There will be deep soil work that needs to be done for grass to grow there again.

I nodded my head at that spot and thought "me too yard, me too."

Sometimes the weight of holding something so heavy, for so long, blocks the light.

Sometimes you are forever changed by the cost of carrying the burden.

When that happens, the only way to grow is to do the deep soil work.

Dig up that which is ugly.

Plant new seeds.

I didn't sleep much last night. The exhaustion sleep of illness and puppy have passed. I woke with excessive leg cramps.

A reminder my body is thirsty.

My mind turning over is my reminder my soul is thirsty.

In the busyness of the last two weeks, I have not done that which saves me.

I have not walked with my podcast.

I have not drank the water from the pretty water bottle I bought.

I have not sat with a book and truly lingered.

I have not written words that speak to ME.

I'm thirsty.

That which is dry can not grow.

So I woke up this morning, drank my hot tea while looking out at my barren rectangle of yard.

Decided today, I dig up the soil.

Today I plant new seeds.

Today I water that which is dry.

Mama Warriors, it's so easy to let those things that water our own soil slip away.

The disappear in the lie that there is no time.

Oddly there is time to drive kids to a million different things? Time to say yes to things you don't feel called to but feel guilty if you say no? Time to squeeze in one more "to do"?

There is time to water your own soil.

You may have to learn to say some hard no's.

You may have to learn to prioritize YOU.

You may have to be creative.

Yesterday I read a book in a chair under an awning in the rain outside Peanut's dance class.

I did not rush to Walmart, even though I needed to. Instead we creatively made breakfast for dinner because I did have pancake mix and blueberries.

I sat.

I watered.

If we want to grow, we have to make time to let the light in and water that which is dry.

Be the Change

 "Live what we want our children to learn."

That picture is the Xman's schedule. Which is here. In my house. On his desk. The two copies I printed before that have gotten lost between open house and today. We arrived at co-op today and he had no schedule.

I'd like to say when the realization hit that he had no schedule that I responded with loving warmth reassuring him that accidents happen.

Instead I may have asked him how many times I asked him if he was ready? If he had everything? And how many times did he tell me "yes." And was he ready? Did he have EVERYTHING? No.

This morning I finished the book "The Gift of Anger" by Arun Gandhi, the grandchild of Mahatma Gandhi. In it, he talks about a time when he was 16 and his Dad asked him to drop him off for a conference, run some errands, and pick him back up at 5:00. Arun finished his errands early and decided to see a movie. In order to make the 5:00 pick up, he would have to leave the movie early.

He lost track of time, and it was 6:00 when he showed up to pick up his father. His father asked "Why are you so late?" Arun lied. Told his father the car errand took longer than expected. Turns out the mechanic had called his father to let him know the work was done much earlier. Arun's father tells him he knows he lied.

The interesting part of this story to me happens next.

Arun's father says " I'm sorry you lied to me today. I have failed as a parent to give you the confidence and courage to tell the truth. Somewhere I made a mistake. I will take this walk to think of how I could have better taught you to know the importance of telling the truth."

And Arun's father proceeded to walk home.

Six hours.

Arun, couldn't leave the car, but felt such guilt because his father was taking on the burden of his mistake that he drove slowly behind him, following him all the way home.

Six hours.

Arun shares that he has never forgotten that moment. Instead of humiliating him and punishing him, Arun's father makes Arun a partner in the problem and the need to correct it.

I'm going to confess. We are walking some tough parenting here.

Tough.

I've been soaking that story since I read it yesterday.

The thing about parenting is that I can't control the outcome.

For us google calendar, control freaks, that's a little tough.

I can only control ME.

So, during this tough parenting season, I'm going to look into my mirror and my soul and figure out how I could teach them better. Model better.

How I can be BETTER.

I can seek wisdom in my Bible. I can pray for them.

Rather than pointing my finger at the child who's schedule has been forgotten, I can partner with him in identifying the problem and WHY it needs to be corrected.

44 But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, 45 that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. Matthew 5:44 - 45

Mama Warriors, it's with great grace that the Bible tells us we don't get what we deserve.

I think how Arun probably "deserved" to walk home that day.

His father took the burden of the responsibility for the lie from Arun. In one of the greatest "teachable" moments possible.

He chose to look inward and see how he could be better. How he could improve.

I'm a huge fan of holding our kids accountable. HUGE. I'm not at all saying we forgive and forget and let them run wild.

I am sharing from my heart that we should hold ourselves accountable to.

Be the change you want to see in the world - Gandhi says.

I'm sure that applies to parenting - BE the change you want to see in your kids.

Tie the Shoes

 "Discipleship is growing fruit on someone else's tree."

This week we spent a lot of time in our living room puppy training Mo.

We are all dog tired (I now get where that expression comes from). We aren't sleeping much. Our days are spent chasing him saying things like "Drop" or "Out" or "OUCH."

During this, Xman and I have been watching the Little League World Series.

It's one of my favorite of our traditions. When he was younger we structured our back to school schedule around those games.

If you've never watched one, tune in. I love the little tid bits they share about each player - their own favorite baseball heroes, their hidden talents, their favorite food, their favorite movie/song/book. It's always surprising to find the tall pitcher likes Taylor Swift or the stocky catcher loves to bake.

This week we watched a close game. The game is tied. There are two outs. As the newest batter approaches the plate, you see the Coach come running out.

The announcer tells us that the Coach is this batter's father.

He bends down and ties the batter's shoes.

I'll confess. I was ugly crying.

Father first.

Coach second.

Each year as I begin a new school year with my own children, I struggle a little with balancing those roles. Mother first. Teacher second.

We shift from this relaxed summer where I nagged no one about algebra assignments, or how many chapters are left in their novel. Where the relationship was my only mission field.

Into this fall where I must somehow balance that role of mother with that of educator, mentor, disciplor.

I was reminded as I watched the batter enter the batter box, that it would never matter the outcome of this game.

That little boy knows his father puts him as a child before him as a player.

He ties the shoes before he coaches the bat.

Mama Warriors, often our kids have needs that are far more immediate and far deeper than the assignments, the practices, the chores or the extra curriculars.

We must always first tie the shoes.

Sometimes tying the shoes means setting boundaries our kids haven't yet learned to set for themselves.

Late this summer we had to step in with one of ours and say some hard "no's." We had to say "This is too much for you. We love you, and we are saying no more of pushing on like this."

All of the things this child was doing were good things. But it was too many things.

We had to tie the shoes before we coached the bat.

As we continue in the crazy back to school mode, I'd like to gently remind you that we always tie the shoes first.

Sometimes our kids get caught up in all the "good" - the sports, the SAT prep classes, the work studies, the church commitments, friends, extra curriculars, all the classes.

It's our job to help set the boundaries. Winning the game is never the goal.

Tying the shoes is always the most important thing.

Training

 "Our real resume is our relationships."

This is Buster Monroe, affectionately called "Mo."

More frequently called "Mo Trouble."

Yesterday he took my flip flop off the porch and went tearing through the yard. He's buried it under the porch where I'm not going to go get it.

He figured out how to jump on a chair and then ONTO the dining room table.

He learned how to go from one couch to the other VIA the end table, where we frequently house a drink.

He taught himself to open the trash can (with a closed lid) and take things out.

He removed a tag from one of Xman's brand new t-shirts. Upon me asking "Where did you get this?" he promptly ran and brought me the actual t-shirt. Of which he was getting out of a drawer in Xman's chest of drawers (note to the Xman CLOSE THE DRAWERS).

He dumped over a laundry basket and ate a dryer sheet.

He scratched Peanut's face in a rough game of tug of war.

He ate the cardboard box of a board game.

He found every cord, ear bud, cell phone that was left laying around.

He helped me unload the dishwasher by jumping on it. We've had so many over the years they can no longer be anchored so the entire dishwasher fell forward.

That was all in the first 6 hours of his day, combined with a nap and a meal, and lots of outside time.

I have learned that no matter how attentive I THINK I am being, it's not enough.

We've had Mo six days and I'll confess. I am weary.

The nights are long. The days are longer.

While there are MANY adorable and fantastic moments, right now there are more exhausting and tiring ones.

I'm investing.

Investing in the dog for the two kids who have been begging for one for years.

Investing in the kids by supporting them as they learn to be dog owners.

Investing in our family as we spend time together playing with Mo.

Investments take time to see dividends.

I think often times we give up during the training phase of life.

When things are challenging.

I've been watching bits and pieces of the Olympics and thinking how amazing it is to get to that level of competition in an area you love.

Those athletes did not give up during the training phase.

They showed up day after day despite injuries, exhaustion, fading interest.

They woke up each day and recommitted to the goal.

I've been tired this week and struggling to find quiet time to sit and think. To read and pray.

I'm reminded this afternoon that I'm in the training phase.

It's my responsibility to wake up every day and CHOOSE again to be a fully devoted follower of Christ.

To stick with the training plan.

Even when there are days that have far less adorable moments than frustrating ones.

Even when there are days that feel overwhelming and exhausting.

Mama Warriors, as we all tackle this back to school madness, when the schedules get crazy and the activities can outnumber the hours in a day.

Let's remember that we are in training first and foremost as followers of Christ.

Let's choose to attend all the practices, keep coming back when the burden is overwhelming and be committed.

Let's stick with the training plan.