All Those Little Things...

This is what I know...

I know that in my home live four children who call me momma.  Different as night and day, they are.  Each one deeply loved and desired and each one such an integral part of our family that I cannot imagine life without them.

And I know that as Mark and I have parented these four, there have been days that are beautiful and simple and honestly, the stuff of dreams.  But there have also been hard days and gritty days and days that I fall into bed in tears, deeply aware of how much I really do not know.

For each of them we have fought.  We fought to see the wonder and delighted in those moments when it rose to the top like bubbles.  We fought to approach discipline wisely and carefully and personally so that we were not so much trying to be fair to the four as we were trying to give each one what they needed.  Because it is rarely the same thing, at least not in our home.

And God knows we have not always been sure that what we are doing is the best thing.  We are not always sure what the next thing should be.  We are not always sure that we are reaching the ones we need to reach and giving space to the ones who are growing up and out.  Because all this parenting stuff is hard.

Maybe you understand...

But, as we have walked through this for 17.5 years with our children nearby, crafting a life that we pray God will use to help our kids grow into who they are meant to be, we have tried to do what we can do and prayed for grace when we failed.  Which happens, you know.  I hope you know.

And from where I stand, I see this little tiny glimpse that I just have to share because in the midst of a lifetime of living with no instruction manual and only a fuzzy view into what might come, it offers me hope.   And I need that.  And maybe you do, too.

This fall, our oldest will be a senior in high school.  He is almost done.  And his little brother will be a sophomore and our little ones will be in the 5th and 6th grades and all of a sudden I can see it...

Blowing bubbles
Praying often
Standing firm
Saying no
Laughing out loud
Eating together
Playing games
Taking a walk
Going to church
Reading a book
Saying hard words
Raising the bar
Staying involved
Showing up
Opening up
Pulling in close

     and...

           Letting Go...

They all matter.  

These and so much more.

And maybe you are tired and maybe you are struggling and maybe it is just all too hard.

Yep.  I get that.

But, squint your eyes and take a deep breath and be reminded... It.  Matters.  

All those little choices over a lifetime of living together when you could not stand the sight of the Candy Land box or one more knock-knock joke but you made yourself listen again, roll the dice, pick a card, hook up the sprinkler, all because a little one asked.  All the times that you set aside what you are doing to watch that video, listen to middle school drama, invite over another friend, it makes all the difference in the world. When you stay connected when it is easier to step away, when you try a new approach to discipline because the last 4 ways did not work, when you expect more and follow through and don't give up, you are changing it all for the good.


And when you, like me, are looking at your baby and realizing that you see more of his back as he walks out the door than his face hanging out at home, you will know that somehow you have poured into the boy while you had him close.  And when he comes back in to say good-bye and give you a hug as he heads on out, you will be grateful for all the little things, all the choices that felt like mindless minutiae, that gave him the security to stand, the confidence to connect to the world before him.

Our children get these things when we see them.

So, please see.  

And honestly, I do not think it is so much about the things we do not do... Because we are trying, right?  It is about knowing that what we manage to do on this one day makes all the difference in the world to the children we have been given to raise.  So we will try to choose that one thing, one more time, one more game, one more lightning bug saved in a jar.  There is wonder to be found in the most mundane.

When we started this journey, 17.5 years ago, we had no idea that it mattered.  But a lifetime of seeking to make intentional choices has somehow brought us to this place where we can see that the little choices are the big choices.  They are those moments we remember, those memories we cherish, even when it was something silly or simple.  But the whole of it left a mark on our kids and taught lessons we didn't know we were offering. Choosing to be present and willing and connected sent a signal loudly that they are loved, important, noticed, valued...

Lessons they get to keep.

I don't think I always knew that.

What a wondrous thing to learn.

Blessings on your day.

Revisiting Gaming and Seeking What's Best

This gaming issue is not done for me.  I am wrestling with it still.  I snapped this picture in Target a while ago because it was so shocking to me that we would even think this way when planning for summer.  It is a lot to process for us mommas, a lot to evaluate for the children we love.

All of this came up for me again today as I perused facebook. I took a few minutes to read an article I have recently seen but had ignored.  I should not have ignored it.  The title?

10 Reasons Why Handheld Devices Should Be Banned for Children Under the Age of 12

Have you read it?  If not, please, PLEASE click on that title and leave here for a few minutes and read THAT.  Because, seriously... we need to take in what that article provides and find a way to apply it to our ordinary, everyday lives.   This article takes what we feel as mommas and shows us the research behind it, making our intuition all the more clear.  I don't know why we refuse to trust ourselves more... but we do.  Us mommas, we get this sense that something is just plain bad for our kids...you know, like excessive gaming or the quality of such... and we talk ourselves out of it because we are just so sure that we will be wrong, or we are being too strict or everyone else is doing it and that all of this matters more.  

Can we just not do that anymore?  

That little one in your arms or at your feet or who you drove to school today or put on a bus... that little one is yours.  And you get to be the expert on that child and you get to choose for that child and you get to offer up to that sweet daughter or son the best (and sometimes worst) that you are.  So, if there is a weight in the pit of your belly that says, "I think this is not what is best for my baby." then RUN... seriously, run... away from that thing and toward what you believe will help your child to develop into the adult they are meant to be.  

You get to do that.  And no one can fuss at you for doing what you feel is right.  

So I wrote this blog in January about gaming and I was terrified to post it because I was sure that I was standing alone.  And you want to know what happened next?  Two things.  

1.  People started reading it and passing to friends making that post the most read blog I have ever written. 

2.   People started writing to me and telling me how they felt similarly about gaming.  

I was shocked by both.  I went from being terrified about what people would think to feeling like I wasn't that alone at all.  Amazing.  Comforting.  

Though it did make me wonder why all the video game stores are still open.  Because now I can see that a lot of parents are uncomfortable with this whole scene.  And I am left wondering about how trapped we feel because something in us is saying that gaming is not what is best for our kids and yet the stores are still open and money is being made and our kids, yours and mine, are still gaming.  And yes, a lot of us are putting limits on what we buy and what we allow and that is exactly what we need to do.  We need to help our kids see that we can find a way to build in parameters that allow for the things they want to do while still living within limits we can tolerate.  

But, when I read that article today, I felt emboldened again.  And I find myself thinking about what our life would look like if we lived by the standards given here.  I wondered what we could do if we actually had back the time we often waste on screens.  I wondered how I can be so concerned about gaming and the quality of it all and yet still find myself allowing the overuse of technology in our home.  

I love that the article addresses all of this from a point of research.  Because seriously, seeing it all clearly explained from a point of view that has studied the impacts of technology on children is motivating.  And I think we are often overlooking really obvious signs that we are just not doing what we need to... in our homes and in our society.  

Many years ago when I was teaching, I asked the kindergarten teacher how placement testing was going for the next year.  Each spring, potential kindergarten students would come to school for "testing" that would help the teacher to prepare for the new year and also to help guide parents in preparing their children. Nearly 20 years ago, I found myself in this conversation and was shocked at the response.  My colleague (I taught first grade, she taught Kindergarten) sat with her head in her hands at the end of the day.  As we talked, she explained that year after year the kids she tested were actually able to do LESS.  She said that many did not know how to hold a pencil and a shocking number of kids could not climb stairs well (alternating feet).  She said that the children came to testing knowing the names of multiple TV characters and with tons of experience playing on electronics, but little experience playing outside.  

Nearly 20 years ago.  

Can you imagine her experience today?  

And we scratch our heads at the number of children who show signs of attention deficit disorder and sensory processing disorder at an early age.  We offer medication for low levels of Vitamin D and prepare for record numbers of children to be diagnosed with diabetes.

Yes, I know some kids are born with these struggles.  I believe this to be true.  But, I also know that there are far more kids with issues now than there were when I used to teach.  And I know that in my own house, we have had to remove TV as an option for one of my kids because that child's behavior was so much worse after watching.  Why?  Because she needed to move!  She needed to jump and yell and run and fall and feel the dirt beneath her feet and the wind in her hair.  Kids need these things.  And they will never get them from a screen.  Ever.  

So yes, there are kids who are born with struggles and there are kids who come from hard places and there are kids who have health issues just because.  And there are kids who need to move more and play outside and do a puzzle and talk a ton and who will find themselves with a hard road to walk in school because of the excessive technology they have been offered from a very young age 

At the end of the article, we see this: 

Dr Andrew Doan, Dr. Hilarie Cash and Chris Rowan

And I am left wondering again.  

I am left with our experience from Christmas.  I am left with the knowledge that experts still say that all online violent and explicit gaming is bad for our kids... even our big kids... and that these forms of media should never be used.  And there are studies that support these truths.  

Oh mommas, we know this, don't we?  We know in our guts that we need to be careful.  We know we need to protect their hearts and their minds.  We know.  What will we do with this knowledge?  How will we intersect what we feel is best with what we offer at home?  Where will we make room for our faith and a respect for human life to guide our choices?  

And even as I type that, I think, "Am I supposed to making room for my faith?  Or should I be making room in a faithful life for some of these other things?"  The difference in these sentences is small.  The variation in their meaning is great.  

As I go through life with my four kids, I know that I want what is best for them.  I know that I want them to grow up healthy and well-rounded with a solid belief system that guides their lives.  I know that I want them to know how to connect to others and follow their calling and value family and love their God.  And I want them to have fun and know joy and find room for downtime and rest.  

I just hope that I am teaching them to do these things with a focus on what matters most.  

This is not an easy task. 

Blessings on your day. 

Clearer Vision on an Ordinary Night

I did not expect it to happen this way.  And to be honest, I am a little embarrassed.  Maybe being a mom may offer me some sort of pass but that's no excuse for finding myself overwhelmed by a sudden realization that literally brought me to tears.  In public.

Thank goodness for sunglasses.

It began as an ordinary day.  The kids were all at school while I spent the day writing and answering speaker requests.  I made dinner early and packed snacks to bring to the high school soccer game I would attend that afternoon and evening.

Normal. Normal. Normal.

I made it to the games with plenty of time to settle in and chat with the other soccer parents who had gotten there before me.  The JV team took the field and battled through a great game.  It was a gorgeous day. Seriously.  We are in the midst of a week or two of perfect weather.  Warm days, cool nights.  Perfect.  In the stands, we commented on the beautiful sunset that was to come and talked about how glad we were that the sun was about to dip beneath the trees.

When the JV game ended, we settled in for what would be another 2 hours of soccer, this time watching the Varsity players.  My oldest plays for this team and is a junior at the high school.  The team warmed up.  Just before standing for the national anthem, the starting line-up was introduced.  The team, gathered near their bench, huddled together to cheer on each player being called to the center of the field.  I have seen this done a hundred times.  Except, this time was different.  My son's name was called and I saw his blond head running through his team.  He began his run out to meet up with his teammates on the field and in a split second, it happened.  And I never saw it coming.

As he ran forward, the whole of his life passed right before me.  I am not kidding or exaggerating or being dramatic.  I didn't plan it or even think it or know it was coming.  It was an ordinary day and all of a sudden I am crying, in public, because I could see it all.  I could see him starting preschool in his yellow jacket, learning to play soccer with his skinny little legs, pouring over a book with his furrowed brow, laughing in the backyard while our dog licked his face, biking down the street with his hair in the wind, walking confidently across the middle school graduation stage, and heading tentatively into high school on that very first day.  I could see his infant face and his now-grown face and all the ways those faces are exactly the same.  And then, I could feel that it is almost done. I knew, in some deep visceral way, that the number of times I get to do this is getting smaller and that for all the days that raising children feels like a job that I will have forever, this moment was clarifying the truth.  There is an end-game.  And I am standing way too close.

I sat in the stands, choking back tears (as I am doing right now), and praying that no one would see.  I talked myself off the ledge and reasoned that my boy is only a JUNIOR.  I have another whole year on top of the one we just began!  I practiced my Lamaze breathing and dabbed casually at my eyes but I could not look away.  Because there he stood.  Taller than me and standing proudly in the center of a field he knows as well as our own backyard.  There he stood, closer to leaving than staying, far more adult than boy.  How does anyone not cry when you suddenly see the truth?  And when the truth holds so much depth and beauty and history and love, how are we not moved to tears?

On that nearly perfect night, I realized in brand new ways how blessed I am to parent this one good boy.  I realized that it is a gift beyond measure to find yourself sharing your life with teenager that you genuinely love and cannot bear to lose.  I realized that it matters that I pay attention to the absolutely ordinary days because, really, that is what makes up our lives.  And someday, I do not think I will be trying to recall all the big events we lived together as a family as much as I will be holding tight to the wonder that is found on a soccer field in September in the dusk of an ordinary night.

Blessings on your day.  

Just a Weekend, Also a Beginning

I want to write him a letter.  Something he can take with him while he rides the bus.  I want to write down all the things he needs to know, the things I have been saying, for 13 years of his young life.  I know he is leaving for no more than a weekend... but still.

I watched him pack.  Snow pants.  Gloves.  Extra socks.  I watched him wonder what he would need.  He is nervous, excited.  I am, too.  All of this he packed neatly away while I watched.

Tonight, I will take my second-born and drop him off with his youth group and they will board a big bus and drive for hours and spend a weekend off in the woods laughing and playing and learning and listening. For two and a half days, I will have no contact, no word, no nothing... Well, not nothing... something, actually.  An opportunity... an opportunity to trust him and an opportunity to trust our Creator with the life and lessons of a boy that I call mine.

These transitions are always big for me.  Watching my kids walk confidently away is what I am raising them to do.  And yet, when it happens, my breath catches and there is a lump in my throat and I am overwhelmed with feelings of pride and sadness.  Longing and letting go, all at once.

Yes, it is only a weekend.  I get that.  Truly, I do.  But, if you squint your eyes and focus carefully, you will see what I can see that releasing him for a far away retreat is really much, much more.  It is part of the beginning.  Part of what is to come.  Part of my sweet Benjamin standing up and trying out the lessons we have given him thus far.  It is his first steps out and away and a time for him to look around and think through some things. It is a time for him to listen for God and wonder about that still, small voice.  It is a time for growth and a time to think about everything that has to do with who he is and who God is creating him to be.  A time... for me to see how little it is about me and how much it is about a plan that is bigger than mine.

And all of that is good.

So this afternoon, I will wrap my arms around my energetic, smart, joyful boy and give him a squeeze before letting go.  And I will count this as practice for what is yet to come.  I will trust that he is well and I will hope that he has fun and I will pray for his sweet self and on Sunday, I will bring him home.  Then, as he falls asleep, he will dream of things that are all his and I will fall asleep knowing he is home.  

This parenting stuff is work, I think.  And how strange the job really is.  We throw ourselves fully into family and faith, spending years and years working ourselves out of a job.  Holding kids closely while knowing that everyday brings us nearer to a time of trust and release.  This weekend, is just practice... and I am glad because I am not ready to let go of this one yet.

How I love my boy...

Blessings on your day.

Lessons of Trust on a Treacherous Drive

He sat next to me in the van.  The snow had finally come and was covering everything, everywhere, as far as we could see.  We would be together, he and I, for hours as we tried to find our way back home.  The roads were icy, visibility limited... but it was beautiful.

Driving home from his middle school basketball game, I had to remind myself to make the most of the time we had.  It was easy to become frustrated.  Easy to lose my focus and fuss about messy driving, completely missing the gift of time I had been given with my boy.

By the time we found the highway, the muscles in my shoulders ached and I was fighting a headache from focusing so hard on the road ahead.  I was thrilled to see the snow... but had totally missed what it would do to the roads.  Driving slowly, I glanced around and saw many cars in ditches, many spinning out of control.  I rolled my shoulders, sat up straighter, and glanced again at my sweet boy.

He was looking out the window, a smile on his face, watching the wonder that was outside.  He tilted his head and pointed for me to see the outline of a hawk on the tree nearby.

"Look, momma!  Do you see him?  He is so majestic there... "  he said.

I smiled and nodded, fighting the distraction of the road ahead.  I was worried.  Would we be able to make the 45 minute drive home?  How do I keep us safe?  Should we stop or keep pressing forward?

I glanced at him again... the back of his head toward me... and remembered hours and hours of time spent holding him, nursing him, studying the hairs on his head.  I remembered him tiny, remembered him running, remembered him jumping through sprinklers with his face lit up in the summer sun.

How do I keep him safe?

"Will it take us long, do you think?" he asked me.  "I have homework to do tonight..."

I looked at him again.  "Take out your study guide and talk to me about it, bud.  Let's work on it out loud."

After digging through his backpack, he finds the sheets and starts talking to me about a test that is coming up soon.  I placed my hands firmly on the wheel, sat up straight again and took a quick peek at his seat belt to be sure he was buckled in.  Worry washed over me again.

He kicked off a shoe and tilted the chair back a bit, smiling and talking about the class and the test.  And then it hit me, all of sudden, that he was not worried at all.  He was not stressed by road and the dangerous ice.  He was not wondering if we would ever get home.  He was calm and peaceful and talking and trusting... even in the midst of such turmoil and tension.

And for a quick minute I could see something clearer... a reminder... a truth... a picture... that comforted me then and comforts me now and reminds me of how life is supposed to be.  Because my boy sitting next to me felt totally safe because he trusted me to handle what was happening around us.  My boy knew he could do what he needed to do and that someone was keeping him safe.

And maybe you never forget.  Sometimes though, I do.  Sometimes, I think I have to handle it all... and sometimes I believe that the person who is keeping me safe and watching the road is me.

But, on that snowy and slippery drive home from his game, my son reminded me that if I trust, if I believe, if I release my need to handle it myself, I can relax and remember that The One in control needs be The One who loves me best.  I can be free then to do what I need to do knowing that I am safe.

I need to trust Him, to trust God, with my family, my work, my worries, my safety... I need to trust Him to work in and for my life... and trust Him to do it better than I ever could.

And if I do that... if I trust Our God... then I can tilt my head, look carefully about, and see all that is majestic around.  His hand of mercy creating beauty in nature, in His people, in my family, in...

I miss so much trying to manage the drive...

Blessings on your day.

Bittersweet Beginnings

I am not sure how it happened but somewhere along the way, I realized that beginning a new school year causes me to look at my children in a way that trumps other touchstones, including their birthdays.  To launch from the lazy, hazy days of summer into a brand new grade, causes this momma to stand still a moment and watch.  And truth be told, that watching often happens from behind unfallen tears.  Beautiful days of bittersweet, it seems...

Yes, we are back to school.  Summer has officially closed and lunchboxes are packed and new schedules litter my dining room table.   My four babies are off to brand new worlds and brand new teachers and almost overnight, they each are growing up.

Elizabeth began second grade and while we know the teacher well (all the boys had her as too), it will be a different walk for our sweet girl.  She will learn to love reading in that room and will make new friends and all of it makes me realize how big she has become.  Our baby girl is learning to do so many new things.

Josiah started third grade and this year always holds a weight for me.  It is a year of transition, a year of development and I know that the sweet, snuggly boy who has been right by my side for his whole life is beginning a new journey of independence.  So much happens in this year... the last year of the younger grades... And to make the transition even more powerful, the first day of school was also Josiah's 9th birthday. I still have him and miss him nonetheless.

Benjamin began 7th grade and his first year of middle school without Noah nearby.  This holds blessings for him but is a strange thought, too.  He will play soccer without Noah, run cross-country without Noah, start track, try out for the play and do so many things that they did side by side last year.  His (and our) feelings are mixed.  It is is nice to have your own space but it sure was amazing to see them doing so many amazing things together.

And then... perhaps the biggest transition of all... Noah started his freshman year.  I am quite sure that no birthday he has ever celebrated has grown him so quickly as walking through the high school doors.  He is playing soccer for his school and taking amazing classes and all of it makes me smile and swell with pride. He talks with us about history and college and teammates and friends and lessons and... well... my first born baby is really, really growing up.

Now the house has fallen quiet and the dog and I wait for the end of each day when they all come home and we collapse together at the dinner table to share our stories and experiences and questions together.  And much like you, I find my quiet is haunted with happy memories of summer and childhood and sprinklers and stories that make me smile with a lump in my throat.  Because all that they are and were swirls here in the silence... all that I know of my four sweet kids is real and present and treasured today.  And as the new school year begins, we will find ourselves discovering new things and my babies will keep growing and I will keep wondering where all the time has gone.

Maybe that is a little bitter-sweet.  But my eyes are on the latter...

May you sense the sweet today.

Blessings on your day.

Noah Turned 13--Reflections on His Young Life

Feels like a long time ago... and yet not long ago at all. I can call it all to mind and find myself, 29 years old, and wrapped up in all the feelings that washed over me when Noah lived inside. How I had wanted to be a mom! Mark and I were both excited and scared and thrilled and lost in the wonder only a first born can bring. We were going to have a baby. We were going to have a baby.

Seeing him on the ultrasound was the most amazing thing. For me, the whole of the pregnancy had been deeply real. I could feel him move and kick and turn and roll and from the very first time I felt him wiggle inside, he was real. He was ours. He was Noah. But for Mark, seeing his baby boy moving on a grainy screen was what it took to pull all the pieces together and really understand that a son was coming. We had several ultrasounds and knew from early on that our little one was a boy. It helped me to know him, somehow. It helped me to picture him... not just as an infant but as a toddler, a preschooler, a child. My son.

He was late... really late. Born 11 days after his due date, after 19 and a half hours of labor. I labored at home for 12 hours and went into the hospital dilated to a fingertip! A long, long day. But honestly, I just kept telling myself that at the end of all this work, my empty arms would be full. We would become family.

Just after he was born, Mark was talking to him quietly under the warming lights while the docs and nurses checked him over. I wanted desperately to hold my baby, to connect to him, to comfort him after all he had been through. Being on the other side of the room while they tended to me felt like being on the other side of the world from my boy. I called to him.

"Noah. Noah. You're okay, buddy. Noah. Momma's here."

I swear to you, and I have witnesses, that my minutes old, perfect baby boy completely turned his head right then. He stretched to look in the direction of my voice. And he stopped fussing altogether. He knew me. My baby knew his momma's voice and even in the midst of all that craziness in the room, turned to find me.

My life changed right then. Some people might be put off by such a change but I was so lost in the wonder of it all that it felt perfectly... well... perfect to me. Mark and I were in awe of every single thing that baby did. We video-taped him for hours, sitting in his bouncy seat, just in case he might smile or move his hand. We cried when he cried, we hurt when he hurt, we laughed out loud when he first giggled and then were moved to tears by the beauty of it.

When Noah was born, we were residence directors at Trinity Christian College. The whole campus had waited for his birth and then waited for him to come home. On the night we brought Noah home from the hospital, the Oscars were on TV. At Trinity, they often have a huge event on that night and the students are all dressed to the nines for the festivities. It still brings tears to my eyes to remember coming into our tiny, dorm apartment and sitting down in my rocking chair with Noah in my arms. Students lined up at the front door to come in and see him and stood dressed in their finest clothes, staring at my boy. They quietly left then through the back door and Mark and I both commented on how amazing it was to have a baby be born into such intimate community. How blessed we were to share this with all these well-loved students!

He grew into a sweet little boy, a lover of books, a cautious little fellow who waited forever to learn to walk. He slept well, ate well, played peacefully and listened intently. At his baptism, the pastor stopped midway through the carefully worded liturgy because our infant son was looking at him so deeply that it almost seemed like he understood the words being said over his sweet self. He was always lost in thought... a look on his face like he was trying to solve all the problems of the world.

Other memories of Noah:

-He has two cowlicks on the top of his head that go in opposite directions. Without lots of gel, his hair never laid down. When he wakes up in the morning, even now, I can see them still.

-When Noah was a baby, he cried from 6PM til 10PM for months. If we carried him in the sling, he did better... well... sometimes.

-Noah screamed his head off while learning to ride a bike. We honestly felt like the worst parents on the block, torturing our child by making him pedal.

-We taught Noah to sleep through the night at the same time as this was covered on Mad About You. Paul and Jamie Buchman stood outside Mabel's door and cried while their baby cried. And so did we. And then we watched him sleep. I did the same thing last night. He is much bigger now, but I promise you, to me he still looks just like this:

-Noah stopped talking after school in Kindergarten. He was shy and scared and would come home overwhelmed. We switched schools.

-Once Noah started to read, he never stopped. Keeping him in books has been a wonderful challenge all these years.

-We enrolled Noah in soccer when he was 6. He had never played nor seen the game before that time. He was, by far, the smallest and meekest and least competitive kid out there. If you saw him play today, you would never believe that could be true. He will fight anyone for the ball and plays well. I am so glad we kept him in.

-Last summer, Noah led a group of VBS students at church and they followed him everywhere he went. It was amazing to see how much he had grown, how mature he was becoming.

It has been 13 years. Today, he will not come home until almost 5PM because he is learning to run track at school. Tomorrow, he will try out for the play. He plays soccer and baseball and basketball and loves to be over-involved. All of that tells you something about what Noah does but not a lot about who Noah is.

Noah is my son. He is loving and funny and brave. He is respectful and I love the person he is becoming. He holds such a special place in my heart because I learned to be the momma I am with him. He had to be patient while we figured it out. And he is the only one of my kids who knows what it is like to be an only child. And I know it sounds impossible, but I swear to you that when I look at him today, lanky and changing, the face I still see is the one I saw when I first called to him from across that delivery room. He turns to me today and looks and I am a new momma all over again and he is new, too. Same face. Same wonder. I am lost in it still because the truth is that finding my son has turned 13 is no less miraculous to me than finding he had just been born. This journey we take together as mom and son has been the most incredible walk and I cannot honestly believe how blessed I am to be mom to this boy.

So, now it begins. The teen years are before us. I thought I would be scared. But you know what I found? Noah at 12 is the same Noah at 13. He is still thoughtful and respectful. He is still a great kid to know. He is just a little older.

When Noah was little, I made a promise to myself that whenever Noah heard me talking about him, the words he heard would be positive. I would not get on the phone and complain about being home with a baby or about his crying or about his diaper rash or tantrums or separation anxiety. He heard me tell others that he was good. He heard me talk about what he was doing well... even when that thing was hard to find. And he rose to that occasion. The teen years are upon us and the worry inside me today has more to do with hoping I have what it takes to do this next part well. But, my promise to myself holds true today. My son is not perfect, far from it, but he is perfect for me. And as we walk through these next interesting years, I will choose to focus on that which is good. I will choose to allow my son to overhear what I love about him, what I respect about him, what makes me smile. I have no idea if he will rise to that occasion again... but it seems to me that the road is right.

My heart is full and I have so much more to say... but you have listened to me enough. So, let me end with this. I love my son. He is 13 and I love him still. Getting up today and tomorrow to continue to walk with him is an amazing privilege that I hope I never forget to honor. It feels like 5 minutes have gone by since that first ultrasound picture... and yet... look at my boy today.

Blessings on your day!

Thoughts on 'Tweens: Embracing This Too

Yesterday, Josiah was at a friend's house after school and Elizabeth was playing outside in the snow. As I worked on dinner, I found myself spending time with my oldest boys, both who are entering a new phase of their lives.

It is the season we often fear. It is the part of parenting that pokes persistently at the insecurities we try to hide. The 'tween and teen years sneak up quietly and then jump up unexpectedly scaring us half to death.

With 13 years of parenting behind me and many years left to go, I have often wondered how to manage these upcoming years with purpose and love. As a momma with two busy 'tweens, I spend a lot of time thinking and praying about how to help my sweet boys grow through these years and come out the other side as ready adults. As many of you know, Mark and I had the amazing opportunity to spend the boy's early years living and working with college students. As we plan for the years ahead, we draw (again!) on our experiences with the students we so loved as well as our own lives and experiences.

So, where does that leave us? What goals do we have for parenting 'tweens and teens? Here are some thoughts to share:

1. I will not give up. Sometimes as parents, we get tired and discouraged. I will not give in to those feelings in a way that releases the responsibility I have as a momma to my children. I will continue to walk with them, talk with them and seek to understand them as we journey through this season together.

2. I will raise the standard, no matter what current culture commands. Ever look around and see adults turn a blind eye to the behavior and choices of 'tweens and teens? Why do we do that? I will not expect less from my children just because they are between 11 and 19. That is an 8 year span of their young lives that can be good and full of wonder. It is an 8 year span of life that I want them to reflect on as part of their whole in a way that is positive.

3. Discipline will remain. There is a difference, my friends, between discipline and punishment. I will set the latter aside and lean heavily upon the teaching aspect found in the act of "disciple-ing". When my children become "prickly" in their demeanor, when they stand apart from me in seeking their own independence, they do not need me less. Instead, they need me differently than they may ever have before. They need me to come alongside and gently guide them as they grow in wisdom and courage.

4. I will not be afraid to laugh. Every stage of parenting has held joy for us and I will not assume this will be any different. Instead, I will laugh with my children and let this stage be filled with the fun and funny that the past stages have held, as well. What causes us to smile may have changed, but I want to embrace to joy of this as I embraced it of the last.

5. I will stay close. A teen-age boy does not need less touch from his parents... instead, he may need it more. As he struggles to understand his place in and out of his family, as he wallows through emotions that will not always present as words, a loving touch by a connected parent may be the best and only way through. I will let my embrace, my hand on his back, my kiss on his forehead, say what words may not communicate loudly enough. I love you, son. More than you can know.

6. I will not diminish the feelings that abound. The first crush, falling head-long in love, a crushing disappointment... all of these are real. From my perspective, they may seem small but in the life of my child these experiences literally are their whole, entire life. I will not gloss over what affects them today with a lecture on the grand scheme of their experiences to come. Instead, I will come alongside and listen well and let myself remember what it feels like to be young and hurt or happy or lost.

7. I will foster the development of their faith with the same attentive fervor I tapped in assisting their childhood development. In seeking "teachable moments" with my children, I will work to refrain from preaching or pushing and lean instead on helping them to discover how very LOVED they are. I will encourage them to respond to their own divine calling and to cherish the plan that God has for them in Kingdom. And I will embrace the fact that my kids will grow into this truth as they hear it from a variety of voices. As teachers and pastors and friends encourage a growing faith in my children, I will celebrate the work of many that results in the growth of one.

When I dreamed of having a family, the picture was filled with shining faces of young children playing happily in their own backyard. But, parenting is more than pictures and has less to do with my old dreams and more to do with a gritty love that hangs in tough when the day is long and hard. Parenting is a job that calls us to cuddle babies, change diapers, potty train and teach. But, parenting also requires us to see this work as a lifetime position that will approach the 'tween and teen years with the same breathless anticipation that we felt as our children learned to take their first steps. The comparison is there... physical first steps lead to this place where steps are taken toward maturity and responsibility and growth. That picture holds beauty, too. And I want to embrace it well.

Last night, I had time to sit with my boys and laugh at their jokes. I watched them read and play. I rubbed their backs and kissed their faces. I offered to them something their friends cannot. Parenting and love. A constant in their lives. An acceptance that holds a full understanding of who they are and adores them through it all. No matter what they say, no matter what our culture might want me to believe, that is important and life-changing and good. I am a momma still... and I love my growing boys. What a wonder-full thing to watch the babies they once were grow into the men God has planned for them to be.

Blessings on your day!