Seriously?

I'm taking bets on how many empty rolls would stack up if I just let it go. I guess I'm going to have to fire the housekeeper.

Open House, Open Hearts

Like every mother, I try to teach my children to be kind, loving, empathetic. And they continually exceed my highest expectations. I am amazed at their ability to understand, comfort, and uplift others. Hillary recently gave up an entire Friday night to go with me to minister to the young girls at Boys and Girls Town. She smiled, chatted, and sat hunched over for more than an hour, painting designs on bitten fingernails...bringing a bit of beauty into scarred and broken hearts with her art and sunshine personality.
And when my sister came to our house, needing a soft place to land for a few days, Parker immediately offered his own room, saying that his room was the darkest and she might need the extra help to sleep. He helped me clean and arrange everything to provide the most comfort possible.
This weekend, we had more visitors. Our house held a few extra girls and a couple of dogs. Far from complaining about "their" stuff or space, my kids shared their home and hearts (and parental attention). They petted the dogs and played with the sweet four-year-old girl who made us laugh with her antics. As often happens, our guests commented on how peaceful our home felt. I don't think that's an accident. It's because of our family's conscious effort to be used of God to minister to everyone who comes through our door. My husband and I have tried to teach our children that everything we have is a gift and we are priviledged to share our blessings. So to see them living out our lessons with open hearts makes my heart sing.

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

One of the hardest things about your kids getting older is watching them move in and out of relationships that you have little or no control over. You teach them the best you can, model a loving relationship in front of them, gently offer subtle advice, and pray...a lot.
After a run of short-term boyfriends in junior high, and one "bad boy" kind of boyfriend her freshman year, Hillary finally found the one that could be "just right." We quickly came to love the quiet, guitar-playing, brown-haired boy because the two of them just seemed to have so much fun together. They were easy to be around...drama-less and naively happy.
But teen years are kind of like dog-years...outside the normal span of grown-up time...and a lot can happen in a year and 4 months. People change, grow, see new horizons opening up in front of them. And it's not surprising that such young "love" couldn't stand up to it.
Not that that makes it any less painful.
So as some good things must do, it came to an end this week. And while I hate to see my child hurt, I am so proud of her. She is handling things with a grace and maturity we haven't seen before. Her relationship with God is strong and she seems to know where she's going, even though it means giving up a boy - a display of faith I've seen grown women unable to grasp.
It makes me less fearful as I begin to loosen the apron strings and get ready to send her off to college next year. She can make the right decisions - even when it's hard.

Rain Man

I slogged through the drizzle, my umbrella doing absolutely no good, and delivered first graders to their cars. All I wanted to do was go home, get dry, and sit on the couch sipping coffee. But instead I had to pick Parker up from school, stop by the grocery store, return some DVDs, cook supper, and deliver supper (Yancy and Hillary were going to the basketball game so I had to take their vittles to the school). Uggh...I HATE rain.
I pulled up to the middle school, and Parker came loping out. He had a HUGE smile on his face. He threw his oversized bag into the back seat, plopped his rear into the front seat, and said, "I LOVE rain!" I just rolled my eyes and asked him how his day had gone.
After several stops and in-and-out errands in the mist, we finally pulled into our own driveway. I turned to him and said, "Since you like the rain so much, how bout getting the mail for me."
"Sure" he said with a smile.
He got out and I pulled on down to the garage, got out of the car, went in the house, and got the bacon out of the fridge. Still no Parker. Our driveway is not that long. I looked out the door. He was walking as slowly as humanly possible, letting the mist hit his face and make diamonds in his curly hair. He didn't seem to care that my junk mail was getting damp and spotted. He was just enjoying the moment and making it last.
I swear I felt the sun shining on me!

Taking It

I have learned many lessons from my kids. Some about joy. Some about pain.
A couple of years ago, Parker had a bike wreck. He was goaded into taking his bike off an 18 inch ramp by our cute but devilish neighbor. The bike went up...and Parker went down...faceplanting into the dirt.
Later, in the emergency room, he writhed and cried and squeezed my hand while they scrubbed his raw face and flushed his eye by placing a plastic tube onto his eyeball and forcing fluid through it. I couldn't stop the pain...turn back time...take his place. I could only sit with him in his pain. It was tough. But it was eventually over. We went home with bandages, pain medicine, and the peace of mind that a clear x-ray gives.
As he lay on the bed, watching tv that night, he suddenly squeezed his eyes shut and started shaking his leg hard and fast. My sister, who happened to be visiting that weekend, asked him what he was doing. He replied, through clenched teeth, "I'm trying to take it!" It was funny. But true.
So this weekend, when that same sister came through my door, emotionally "wrecked" by the crash of her marriage, I did what I could do. I couldn't stop the pain...turn back time...take her place. But I could sit with her in her pain. And when we cry, shout, eat or don't eat, pray, sleep or don't sleep...don't be surprised. We're just trying to take it.
It will be tough. But eventually it will be over. And we will go on with strength, scars, and the peace of mind that a loving God gives.

Growing into myself

My kids are growing up. I might be able to ignore that fact if life didn't give me almost daily reminders. College applications come in the mail. Jeans from just last summer now seem laughably small. And I am often asking Hillary to reach the top shelf, or Parker to carry the heavy vacuum cleaner up the stairs for me. It's been a wild ride...and it's not exactly over. But it would be easy to spend time lamenting the baby days...the early years when things seemed much more under my control.
And then I spend a Friday evening being just a woman, not a mom. I went with a couple of other girls from church to take a meal to a young mother of twins who just lost her husband. She smiled and thanked us. I hugged her and sat in the floor, reading about hippos and elephants with wide-eyed toddlers. And I realized that I could focus on ministering to this family...because my own was taking care of themselves at the moment.
I believe that raising my children well is one of the purposes God has for me. But as they become more independent, he sets new things in front of me. I guess my kids aren't the only ones who are growing. My Father must be proud!

Who's That Girl?

I was loading the dishwasher, while Hillary was in her room, taking so long to get ready for the Homecoming dance that her poor boyfriend fell asleep on the couch, when she called for me. When I stepped in her room, she was sitting in front of her dressing table with a sad face and poofy hair. "Mom, can you fix this?" I went to work on it, explaining the whole time that I don't know how to fix hair. But soon she was happy with it and went off to raid my make-up bag. I returned to the chores.

A few minutes later she was back, safety pins in hand. "Mom, I can't get this belt to stay pinned. It's not tight enough." I suck at saftey pinning, which I told her. Nevertheless, I gave it my best shot and once again she was smiling. "You're such a Miracle Mom!" she beamed.

Say again?

"You always make things work, even when you say you're not good at it."

Oh.

Then it was time for pictures and quick hugs and they were out the door. So young and beautiful I wanted to say, "Wait! I love you!" But I didn't want to get all parentally emotional and lose my Miracle Mom status.

I looked into the camera to check out the pictures I had just snapped and felt a little shock. It was like looking at myself. She looked so much like me. Who is that girl? I think she's a little bit me.