Happiness

 "Love offers people both roots and wings. Love is liberating."

A month or so ago Peanut and I completed a mother daughter bible study. In that bible study, the author suggested that we start a journal. A safe space that Peanut and I could openly share with each other.

Peanut was beyond excited. I, having attempted this with two children before her, was a lot more skeptical. However, I bought the journal. I wrote the opening "mom message" about how in this journal we can share anything. I set up the system for where the journal goes when we've written in it.

The journal came with some prompt pages and some free space pages. Peanut immediately began to fill every page with her concerns that the journal wasn't really a safe space. She worried I'd be disappointed or upset with her if she shared certain thoughts.

As I pondered what to write back to Peanut, I began to circle around this burden Peanut feels to make me happy.

I journaled back to her that its not her job to make me happy.

My happiness is MY responsibility.

Not hers.

She can share anything because at the end of the day, my love for her is truly unconditional. Might I be upset about something she writes? Sure. I'm only human. As she is. I expect we'll both make mistakes and both need space for grace.

Things in our home have been different the last few months. Peanut has picked up on the shift in tone and dynamics.

She's carrying this burden to make me happy because she knows her siblings are currently unconcerned about my happiness.

I've spent a lot time this month processing this idea of why we think others are responsible for our happiness.

In reality, I don't think others are responsible for making me happy but perhaps I think they are to blame if I'm not? Is that the same thing?

As I've tried to reassure Peanut that its not her job, I've been trying to set some boundaries and work on owning my own joy.

It's hard to not let your circumstances, your challenges define your days. They do seem to take up a good bit of it don't they?

Peanut and I have made it through several rounds of hard things to share. I'm proud of her for making me earn the right to hear her story.

I'm also thankful for vulnerable moments to share truths.

She's responsible for her own happiness. I can't make her happy.

She gets to chose what to do with her big feelings. She gets to chose her own boundaries and dreams.

Part of that process is walking the hard.

I fear we've become a society that wants our kids to be "happy" (which seems like an elusive and hard to define goal) rather than people who have skills to make themselves happy. Those are two very different things.

Mama Warriors, as we go into summer.........where the days often seem endless.........I challenge you to take off your cruise director hat and let your kids be bored. Without screens.

I challenge you to let them figure out what makes them happy. What brings them joy. Give them resources and time and space to explore.

Remind them, and you, that they are responsible for their own happiness.

And remember that you are responsible for yours.

Perhaps summer is good time for change?

All reac

Graduation Tears?

 "Love is how we treat someone, not how we feel about them."

This morning was graduation recognition at church. I watched as several young people stood, surrounded by their family, and were prayed over as they chose their next steps.

I watched as my own child refused to participate.

There's a long list of things that have been refused. Senior pictures. Graduation party. Senior recognition at church. Senior activities at school.

In all honesty, we had to insist upon the graduation ceremony and a lunch with grandparents. Not request. Insist. The pictures are a farce at what that day felt like.

For those of you arriving at graduation this week with mixed emotions, I feel you. Me too.

Everyone kept asking me how I was doing having graduated a kid I personally educated for 13 years.

I cried not one tear over my child at graduation (many tears over an empty seat but that's a different post).

I arrived at graduation weary. It's been a long semester.

I've already cried all the tears. Grieved the change.

Graduation was a formality.

For those of you walking a similar path this week, let me share. Yes, this is hard.

Social media is no friend as you watch everyone else's kid lovingly show up in all the ways. Excited to celebrate. Hugging their family. Truly pouring love.

You watch everyone else's kid make choices about their future you wish your own child would make.

People keep sharing with me this idea of "soiling the nest." As a person who doesn't shit where she eats (sorry for the language), I find this to be a terrible description for life in our home in the last 5 months.

A kid we've loved, supported and poured into is somehow a kid I barely recognize.

I've hesitated writing this for not wanting to paint a picture of my kid for others because I assure you their version of the story looks much different than ours.

However, I realized as I sat in church today, this is not a story about him.

It's a story about me.

It's a visual of how wrapped up my identity is in being his mother.

"Jesus show me who you are that I might know who I am."

His behavior is not my identity.

It's just that. His.

Mama Warriors, regardless of how you are walking to graduation this week, there's room to pause and remember that your identity is not being their mother.

You are a child of God who is called to go forth and make disciples.

Not this one you're graduating.

Maybe for you, too, this is a good time to pause and reflect on where your focus is and what your feelings about this event mean.

If you are arriving at graduation weary and maybe touched by that green eyed monster, it's okay.

I recommend a cold coke and big piece of cake to take a moment and recognize that it's all hard.

And then let's remind ourselves that we are not defined by motherhood. And let that be freeing.

Let their walk be just that. THEIRS.

ER Doctors

 "If there is not mutuality in a relationship, it's not a relationship."

A few weeks ago I spent a Saturday morning in the Emergency Room.

There's something about the Emergency Room that gives you a feeling of desperation. After the pain meds, the tests, the labs, the discussions.......they come back and say "This is the issue. This is what you do."

I'm ever the realist so my first question is ALWAYS - if that doesn't work, then what?

They say "Follow up with a specialist."

The ER is really just a one stop triage shop. They know a LITTLE about all the things. Enough to put a poor band aid on for the moment but then you have to SEEK out someone who knows more. Better.

As I laid around that weekend doing all the recommended things, it kept circling through my head "Wait. See. Follow up."

Waiting is lonely as hell let me tell you.

As the weeks have passed, and I'm "waiting" and "seeing" I've been thinking about how like ER doctors we all really are.

We show up in the emergency. We say the prayer. We bring the meal. We make the donation.

But then send the silent message. "Wait." "See." Alone.

I'm feeling convicted about being an ER doctor friend. Showing up with the gesture but not following through day in and day out. So people aren't "waiting" alone. People aren't "seeing" alone. People aren't alone.

It's no secret I'm in a weird season of parenting over here. I'm feeling this intense sense of disconnection from these people that I've mothered so fully. Not perfectly. But fully.

I'm "waiting" to "see" what becomes of the seeds I've planted. And I'll be honest, there are many days where I think I've planted weeds. And they're multiplying.

This week was a double whammy of Mother's Day and my birthday. Honestly I was feeling disappointed, overwhelmed and sad.

I woke up yesterday morning to a present in my garage, dropped off by a loving friend, that perfectly epitomizes our friendship. I lit a candle gifted by another friend that makes me smile. I set my hot tea mug on a mug warmer that is thoughtful and personal. A gift card arrived so I could buy the thing I really wanted.

And in my mailbox was this card with a list of words to describe me.

Definitely not the words I was telling myself yesterday.

Mama Warriors, we must surround ourselves with specialists.

The village is full of ER friends.

We must pull close the specialists. The ones who know us intimately. The ones who show up for us day after day. The ones who make sure we never "wait" and "see" alone.

And we must be specialists.

We've gotten the idea twisted that relationships are all about what we get and how we feel.

Relationships are about loving each other well.

As we're commanded to do.

Mother's Day

 "I don't have to chase extraordinary moments to find happiness – it's right in front of me if I'm paying attention and practicing gratitude." Brene Brown

I attended a church bible study recently where the teacher asked everyone to share an "unpopular opinion." Essentially something you don't love that the rest of the world seems to.

My unpopular opinion for today.

I don't like Mother's Day.

Mother's Day always falls in "May-cember." When the calendar is already crazy full. When I'm barely hanging on - just trying to get to summer.

It also always falls within a week of my birthday.

So, not once, but twice in the same week I gear up to be "celebrated."

It's very important to SD every holiday that I feel celebrated.

The challenging part is that in trying to create a special day -I inevitably end up disappointed. And usually stressed.

I have kids who want to know what they "have" to show up for.

Every year I say the same thing. I don't want to eat meals with people who don't want to eat meals with me. I don't want to have awkward moments while I wait for people to write in a card their name. I don't want to open gifts that make it abundantly clear that my people don't know me or pay attention.

I don't want to define my mothering by this day in May.

Because if I did, my ratings score would be REALLY low.

I want to remember that my mothering is defined by ........

A Peanut who climbs in bed to read with me every night just because she wants to be close to me.

A kid who brings me a special treat when I'm sick because I've modeled we think of others.

A kid who shows up BIG for her brother's graduation even if the setting is hard for her.

A husband who stays home to take care of me when I'm sick even though I know he thinks the building is falling apart without him.

I don't want the murkiness of one day to overshadow the beautiful in the plain and ordinary.

Mama Warriors, today is so hard for so many.

Let's remember those who wake up today without their own mother. "Grant them comfort and hope in Christ's resurrection."

Let's remember those who ache to be a mother. "Grant them faith and hope."

Let's remember those who prodigal children. "Grant them strength and wisdom."

Let's remember those who mother through being an aunt, a bonus mom. "Grant them joy and appreciation of others."

Let's remember it's okay to skip the holiday and just celebrate the plain and ordinary.

Super Glue

 "Everything beautiful has a story it wants to tell."

Peanut woke up this morning and said "Happy Mother's Day Mommy. My first present to you is snuggling. (30 seconds). Can we make a surprise breakfast for Daddy while he's sleeping???"

I've long accepted that Daddy is the prize around here.

He has never come through the door of our house without one child (often two) yelling "Daddy's home" and going running.

In almost 16 years of parenting, only crying newborns wanting to nurse have been excited to see me.

I read something this week that said that Mom is the glue, and Dad is the glitter.

It's true here.

Dad takes people to the movies and says yes to crazy things like popcorn that cost as much as a tank of gas. Dad wrestles on the floor and makes funny noises. Dad buys the funky brand of chips and the newest little debbies. Dad comes through the door spreading his glitter.

Mom is the glue.

Mom knows things like the number to the pediatrician and who goes to the dentist when. Mom knows that kid #3 needs to eat oatmeal every other day or she doesn't poop. Mom sets the wifi limits and knows how to check for things like finsta accounts and hidden apps. Mom can see illness coming two days in advance based on behavior or the look in their eyes. Mom knows when the tooth fairy needs to come, sends the mother's day card to the woman who birthed the glitter, and creates the intricate taxi schedule that makes the week work.

Glitter doesn't stick without the glue.

But no one sees the glue.

I realized this morning that the glitter/glue thing - it's my truth about motherhood.

I'm over here holding it all together.

But feeling unseen.

In reality though, who expects kids to appreciate the glue in the midst of the craft project?

My kids don't yell excitedly when I come through the door because it's understood I'm coming back. No one is surprised or caught off guard by it.

I'm a given.

There's something beautiful in that right?

The teenagers can yell at me and spout awful, ugly things. I'm believing they feel free to do that because I'm a given.

I'm going to love them unconditionally. After deactivating their wifi that is.

The wee one may run to the Daddy in the afternoons, but it's still "Mama" that she cries when she's had a nightmare, fallen with a scrape, or got her feelings hurt by a sibling.

I'm her home base.

Mama Warriors, as you wake on Mother's Day, perhaps you, like me, are sitting in a house where everyone else is sleeping and you have made home made donuts for the glitter while watching Notekins. Perhaps you are feeling like glue no one sees on a day you are supposed to be seen.

I think when we are the immovable glue in our kids life, we model the true love of Jesus.

I think my Jesus is okay with me yelling at Him in anger sometimes. He's okay with me questioning His path. He's okay with me feeling all the messy feels of life.

Because, He's my given. He's my home base. He's my glue.

Happy Mother's Day to all my Mama Warriors who are rocking the Super Glue today!

Posted 2018