I know, I know, you’d expect that to read Like Mother, Like Daughter. People often describe how children look like, sound like and act like their parents. As we grow older, we begin to understand the opposite is also true. The voices of our own parents can be heard when we speak and their images seen in our reflections. Perhaps wisdom allows us to see our children as teachers through a two-way mirror Continue reading “Like Daughter, Like Mother”
Letting Go
Why is letting go so hard? I remember the day we dropped off our son Robert at college. I cried the entire drive there and back. Two years later it was Rachel’s turn. She was staying a little closer to home, but it was still difficult to leave her in that tiny dorm room alone. One more year and it will be Ryan’s turn, my 6’3 baby. I’m trying not to think about that just yet.
Today brings a different kind of letting go. Letting go of someone who was never mine, but who found a lasting place in my heart. Today marks one year since my first visit to an Emergency Children’s Shelter. I went to see a former student who had been removed from her home. That visit quickly turned into one of many. There were phone calls, we celebrated holidays, a birthday, enjoyed movies and shopping. And even though I knew deep down our family was not the final answer for this child, the thought was always in the back of my mind.
Recently someone said to me, “What do you think your family could provide for this child that another family could not?” That stung, but it was exactly what I needed to hear. Suddenly the words “letting go” began invading my thoughts. And then it hit me-maybe our purpose had simply been to provide love and friendship during a year of uncertainty and confusion, and that was ok.
How appropriate that on this day, one year later, I receive word of a foster home placement. Today some of my tears are selfish because I will miss her, but most are grateful-grateful for caring foster parents and a fresh start for our precious friend. I hope to share more about this past year’s experiences in the future, but today tears must fall as I once again learn how to let go.
“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens…”
Ecclesiastes 3:1
Coffee
My earliest memories of coffee stem from my Grandma Mahar’s house. Always a fresh pot brewing, Grandma was glad to share a cup. She had nine children and twenty-six grandchildren, so someone was bound to stop by for a visit. Visit is the key word, because in our family, drinking coffee meant conversations around the kitchen table.
Several years ago I realized coffee for me equates to a comfort food due to this strong childhood connection. Not only does it provide literal warmth, it also provides fond memories of growing up in a family that talked, listened, argued, disagreed, and loved, often over a cup of coffee.
Today getting coffee is a common social convention. Whether it’s friends visiting, a nervous first date, a job interview, each may be witnessed at the local coffee shop on any given day. Some may consider the practice routine or mundane. As for me, an invitation to coffee is neither. It’s an invitation to talk, laugh, maybe even cry-enjoying the time our paths are allowed to cross.
Coffee
Fancy or Plain
Black or With Cream
Home or Coffee Shop
Makes no difference to me
Coffee
Warmth and Comfort
Friendship and Family
Laughter and Memories
More than it appears to be
Strength in Numbers
Sometimes I think we are misguided in our striving for independence. A “taking on the world alone” mentality is not the way we were meant to live. Don’t misunderstand, there are certain things we need to learn to do for ourselves. As parents for example, we teach children to take care of basic needs and encourage them to grow to be confident adults. However, we must take care not to promote independence at the expense of missing out on important relationships. We all need loving, supportive people in our lives! Each of us will experience being “someone in need” or “someone who has the ability to meet a need.” That has certainly been true in my life.
My prayer today-courage to ask for help when needed and willingness to offer help when able, accepting the strength that comes in numbers-numbers of extraordinary people who cross my path.
“No one should seek their own good, but the good of others.” I Corinthians 10:24
Shelter
Words are powerful. Even more so the images that accompany them. Consider the word shelter. For many of us, this word reminds us of safety and home. But what if we add just one word…emergency. Emergency Shelter brings much different imagery. One final word moves us even further from protective pictures of safety and home… children’s.
Before my first visit to an Emergency Children’s Shelter, my imagination created snapshots in preparation for the experience-a clean building, professional staff, play areas, a visiting room. In my mind the scene played out-a greeting from a smiling worker, thanking me for coming. An onsite visit in a comfortable, nicely decorated area. After all, this facility was providing care for children who had experienced trauma.
“Reality is the state of things as they actually appear, rather than as they may appear or might be imagined.”
When map quest directed me to turn down a gravel road blocked by an iron gate, my previous notions of what the day would bring began to fade. A quick phone call put me back on track, giving two guiding landmarks. Passing the second landmark, I noticed an older, run-down, unassuming house. This couldn’t be right, I kept driving…dead end. Cautiously turning around, I knew in my heart that old house was the place. I noticed “Private Property” and “Video Surveillance” postings in the yard as I parked. In crept feelings of nervousness and uncertainty.
Taking a deep breath, I walked to the door, spoke to the cat on the porch, and rang the bell. A calm, quiet proprietor answered. The precious young person I was visiting nervously stood at the back of the house. My visions of a visit on the premises vanished as I spotted a backpack on the table. My young friend was ready to go! Now there were completely different reasons to be nervous. Where would we go? What would we do? Concerns quickly faded with smiles, hugs, and laughter.
My earlier thoughts of shelter as concrete began to fade. Perhaps the word shelter should instead bring to mind promises of our Father and memories of people He places in our path. Although these new, less tangible images give me courage for future visits, the words emergency and children’s remain. Those words continue to hold much sadness and many unanswered questions. Tempering them with the word shelter however, allows tiny bits of light to break through the clouds.
“You have been a refuge for the poor, a refuge for the needy in their distress, a shelter from the storm and a shade from the heat…”
Isaiah 25:4
My Father-n-law
Today we celebrated Father’s Day. I prepared the requested chicken enchiladas and yellow cake with chocolate frosting for lunch. Our family, including my mother-n-law, spent the afternoon together, ending our day seeing The Incredibles ii. Such a nice day! But someone was missing, my father-n-law. He passed away February 2, 2016 after a hard fought battle with cancer. Many moments today I sensed we were all thinking the same thing-we miss Dad, Papa, Bob. None of us said anything, but his memory was present.
We do talk about him often. How he liked to razz the grandchildren about their love interests. My mother-n-law once called him the nosiest man alive! How he would do everything in his power to make sure we all had what we needed and wanted. He was so very generous. We knew he loved us, no doubts! Though our celebrations may now feel incomplete, they must continue. They must be sprinkled with precious memories of this one who teased us, quizzed us, provided for us, and loved us so well.
A Father’s Day Story
How do you measure success? Money, material possessions, travel, adventure? Facing constant pressure to seek the “next best” makes success difficult to define. A recent conversation with my dad led my thoughts to this subject. As he gathered souvenirs to share with children at their church’s VBS, I began questioning him about his travels and compiling a list of his mission trips. The word “success” permeated my thoughts.
My dad is a carpenter, strong and gentle, a man of few words. A hard worker who spent much of his life building homes. I believe however, his work in volunteer missions truly defines his success. My dad ventured nineteen times to Brazil, five times to Mexico, twice to Guatemala, and once to England. These trips often involved church construction in poor, remote locations. He also volunteered in twelve U.S. states on multiple occasions, building, remodeling and repairing churches, as well as working in tornado and hurricane damaged areas.
Mom often accompanied dad on these trips. Both now in their seventies, they once again prepare to travel, this time to South Dakota. Most people would say, “You’ve done enough, rest.” Nevertheless, they continue to be faithful, embracing opportunities to serve others. In the words of my dad, “Not too bad for a bashful old country boy.” Now that is what I would call a success story!
Happy Father’s Day dad! I love you!
Separation
I wrote the following poem based on my connection with a former student. Recent news stories concerning the separation of children from their parents brought it to mind.
Deserved vs. Received
I deserved contempt, judgement, death.
I received forgiveness, grace, life.
I deserved exclusion, distance, rejection.
I received community, acceptance, adoption.
This is Love.
This child deserved love, safety, a community.
She received hurt, fear, isolation.
This child deserved affection, a home, a family.
She received neglect, loneliness, strangers.
This is Sin.
“Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins.” I Peter 4:8
Beginnings
I love music. Music has been a constant in my life since I was a little girl. Sometimes it seems the only time my brain is truly at rest, is when I’m behind the piano. There are many thoughts constantly swirling through my mind, and it is often difficult to for me to make sense of them. I’ve found that writing them down often helps, and I’ve decided maybe it’s time to share some of those writings. I will begin on a rather personal note…
All Things Bright and Beautiful…
all things grey and gloomy
There is much discussion these days concerning depression. It is a very important topic. Speaking from personal experience, it is one that I need to talk about more often. It’s difficult to admit feelings of depression. They come in so many forms-sometimes sadness, sometimes anger, sometimes crying-almost always without explanation. That’s not to say that specific events won’t trigger depression, however there is often no clear answer. The reason-depression is an illness, an imbalance-not an emotion or emotional response, and certainly not a lack of faith.
My personal experiences with depression began over 15 years ago. I was a young wife and mom of three young children. We lived in a quaint Oklahoma town, had amazing friends, a “bright and beautiful” time. Yet somehow I found myself struggling to control my emotions. Feelings of frustration and anger, almost “outside of myself” experiences left me exhausted and confused. I clearly remember on several occasions thinking, “Why am I reacting this way? Why can’t I control this?” It was staggering, that feeling of not being in control.
Thankfully, my husband is one who viewed this as a medical issue that needed to be addressed. So I discussed my feelings with my doctor and began taking anti-depressants. Modifications have been made over the years, but thankfully medication continues to have a positive effect on my mental well-being and helps me cope with everyday life. The solution may not be perfect, but it is one I accept as necessary.
That being said…the depression is still there. Most days are good. But then a season of the “grey and gloomy” will come. Sometimes it will make me angry, angry that I have to take medicine, angry that I can’t just snap out of it! That’s when my husband gently reminds me if I had heart disease, I would seek treatment. If I was diabetic, I wouldn’t hesitate to take medications. And the list goes on and on.
As for my faith in Christ, I do not believe it is a lack of faith which causes my struggle with depression. On the contrary, my faith reminds me there is always hope. Hope that travels with me, right alongside the struggle.
“Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful.”
Hebrews 10:23 NIV
The Journey Begins
“Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent.” Victor Hugo
Thanks for listening!
Piano Girl 