Category Archives: break it down

Counting Down

It is the second countdown to Seattle. In a week I will be ending Day One, part two.

What has happened since the last trip? What was the outcome? What am I doing next? What will I be doing with this certificate when all is said and done?

These questions, and more, are asked by friends and loved ones. They are interested and care about this endeavor. Some have invested in me financially, others with friendship and prayer. Acquaintances are curious. In my mind I compose eloquent responses and blog posts. In reality, I work hard to plan and prepare for each module in every area of my life ~ home, work, studies.

This leaves little time for writing much more than lists ~ groceries and to dos, journal entries, lesson plans, and stories for Seattle. Fresh blog posts are moved the back burner and, frankly, by the time I have the space, they feel difficult to compose.

It takes a deep level of acceptance that it is, indeed, the right year for me to be doing this training. If I am not careful, it is easy to slip into envy of others whose lives I imagine as more ideal and better suited for this season of intense mental and emotional work. Then I remember truth and feel grateful for the gift of this journey.

Currently, I am sitting on my bed surrounded by recipes for next week’s meals and the beginning of a crude grocery list. I am navigating the choppy waters of middle school make-up homework enforcement while listening to a complete list of all of my parenting failures.

I am pondering how my own stories are playing out in my responses, both internal and external, that intersect with and shape my children’s stories. This upcoming session is about family of origin and attachment, so those topics are front and center in my thoughts.

My Family Narrative story is submitted, reading assignment is almost completed, a suitcase stands empty, waiting to begin being filled. I am living moment by moment. Each day is filled to the brim with necessary business. There is little extraneous these days. Life is good. Life is hard. Life is a gift.

I have rediscovered the music of 3 Doors Down on this journey. On my iPhone is an eclectic blend of albums and artists accumulated by my children over many seasons. 3 Doors Down is from son #1’s teenage years and several albums were discovered on my iPhone 4 while on the plane home from Seattle in September. Truth. It was such a sweet, surprising discovery!I love music. Have a listen and stay awhile.

This is one of my many confirmations that this year is the right one for me. Blessings! I am off to the grocery store, now!

Cave Quest Wrap-Up

Deep breaths and quiet and oh, the tears. The space that I long to fill, fills me. Arriving home after a full morning of singing on worship team, the house is eerily and deliciously silent.

While husband, children, and dog are away on an afternoon adventure, I putter in the kitchen, nap in my room, and rise to spend a few minutes writing before the next thing.

It is my last day of summer. It’s not really summer’s last day, but it is the last day of summer routine for me. Tomorrow I return to working my day job for a fourth year.

With this in mind, I wanted to finish the VBS wrap up that has been sitting in the draft folder since the end of July ~ which wasn’t that long ago, but if I don’t get it written, then it will be long gone and just another memory.

This was my best year at VBS and confirmation that Preschool KidVid Cinema is my VBS fit. In years past, I haven’t been as sure.

My first year of running Chadder’s Theater was full of surprises, both personally and in my changing role from Preschool Station Leader to the video person.

The following year found me running Preschool KidVid with none of my own children coming through the station. That was a huge milestone.

Last year I was met with the challenge of resting in unrest when the DVD that I was to show, the main point of the station I run went missing. One of the littles was finally old enough to help. Another milestone.

It’s hard to believe that this was my fourth year of running this particular station and my sixth year of helping out in some capacity. When I started, the littles were 7, 5, 3, and 2. Before that, I sent the bigs to VBS and stayed home with my own nursery of littles.

There was much ambivalence about whether to sign up again this year. My heart wrestled through many things including, but not limited to, where I am in this season, the work I am doing for fall, the limited time I have for myself, and the over-responsible place in me that often takes on more than is healthy, rather than allowing others the space to step up.

I passed by the sign-up table many Sunday mornings still praying about it. I really was. I was shown much grace every time. There was never pressure.

When I finally felt peace about signing on, it was because I still have four children to shepherd at home. I wanted something that we could all do to serve together, and while I could have sent them in and taken time for myself, I felt convicted to lead by example. I felt the call to offer up a sacrifice of time and the gift that I have to work with lots of littles to model service for my children.

And it was the best year, yet.

I loved working with the preschoolers that came through my station each day. I loved working with the crew leaders, station leaders, and other helpers. I loved being a support to those who stepped up into the major leadership roles.

I loved working with the preschool director.

At the end of the week, my heart felt so very full. I felt the maturing of my own children. For the first time we were able to leave VBS together each day without big meltdowns. This year one was a helper. Next year two will be of age.

I want to remember that it was a good week. I want to affirm that using this skill set and gifting of mine in this context was a joy, and that I received far more than I gave. While each year brings its own challenges, and we never know what the next one will hold, this one was sweet.

I am grateful.

Go Be You

How’s it going in here?

Popping my head into one of the preschool Bible Adventures rooms on VBS set up day, I asked a younger mom friend this question. Scanning her classroom I saw a tent set up. Indoors. There were also gray sheets draped over round tables, cave-like, and camping gear placed around the room.

Children, hers and their friends, crawled in and out of the tent and table-caves happily. The atmosphere was fun and intentional. It was kind and caring.

My first thought was, What a great room! What a gift of time she is giving to serve at VBS this week with her young children. Look at how she is setting up with them playing alongside of her. I remember those days well. Sort of. What was that blur, again? Yes! I did that, too!

Her eyes met mine as she answered.

Well, I thought things were going pretty well until I went out and looked into another room. Now I don’t know.

Laughingly, but not really laughing, I said, You broke the cardinal rule of life which is . . .

We both knew the answer and reminded each other of it together. . . Don’t compare!

In this instance it was, Don’t compare YOUR Bible Adventures classroom cave with the one next door or down the hall. Keep your head in your own room.

Soon it will be teachers. Don’t compare YOUR second year classroom with the thirteen year veteran across the hall. Or writers. Don’t compare YOUR blog or post or submission with the one trending on social media. Or mothers. Don’t compare your home, children, schooling choices, resources, the list of things we can compare there is endless. Or women. Just don’t.

This very day. Today. I left Sharp Shopper, and noticed another woman emptying the contents of her cart into her car. I began comparing, Did she find better deals than me? Why did she buy a flat of those? What did I miss? Do I need that, too?

I bought the things I needed for my family today. She bought what she needed for her. We both did well. 

It’s not that simple, and yet, it is. Good work done with our hand to our own plow is good work. We all have the choice to bring ourselves to this cosmic equation and step up with the gifts and tools we have been given to use.

In the words of P!NK ~ No one can be just like me anyway!

So put those blinders on and go be you! You are amazing! You are doing it, whatever it is that you need to do. Carry on! That is all.

Nine Years

We’ll start with that next time, my counselor says, indicating that this time is up.

Pushing off with his feet, rolling in his chair to a desk in the corner, setting up next week’s appointment, I am left sitting on the couch with that statement. Beside me, my husband tries offering a reassuring presence in the form of his comforting smile and nod, but I am having none of it.

At thirty-six years of age, it took every ounce of courage to speak the place where trauma, pain, and betrayal hijacked me as a teenager. This time. My counselor is calling me deeper. Next time.

My breathing grows shallow, and blood runs cold as ice through my veins. The trick of dissociating by numbing out and viewing myself from a distance begins to take over. Noticing this, Counselor checks in and rolls from his desk to the expansive bookshelves lining the wall. Scanning them in earnest, he searches.

I am afraid to ask, though had he told me, I could have located the volume first, having become an expert at focusing on those titles and authors behind him while trying to stay grounded during sessions.

Here it is. You need to get a copy of this book to read.

He does not offer to give it to me or let me borrow it. I cannot take it home today. I have to get it for myself. Later.

Taking it into my hands, glancing at the image on the cover while simultaneously reading the title and subtitle, draws copious tears that I struggle to sniff back, but they morph into full-blown sobs, betraying my stoic facade. I cannot hide the fear and terror evoked by the simple act of holding this book.

What’s wrong? Why the tears?

Counselor’s gruff bedside manner does not mask his concern, as he gently prods my pain, following the trail I am leaving.

I don’t want to look at my story! I hate everything about my story!

This visceral response is gut-wrenchingly real. His response to my outburst is kind. He affirms something about my story having value, etc. . . I am not in a place to hear or believe him, but I know that since he has recommended To Be Told ~ God Invites You to Coauthor Your Future by Dan Allender with my husband in the room, the book will show up at our house.

Anything to help me, to fix this, my husband of fifteen years will do.

The book arrives, and I reluctantly begin reading. It feels too big and too much to think of actually writing out and sharing parts of my story to process with others, as recommended, yet I am intrigued by lines such as this, Neither your life nor mine is a series of random scenes that pile up like shoes in a closet. (To Be Told, p. 3)

I am shattered. Undone. Curious.

Nine years later. . .

It would be easier and tidier to write ten years later, but an honest time frame says nine.

Nine years have passed since that original scene of facing what was terrible, traumatic, and unspoken in my heart. I am forty-five years old, mid-forties, still processing and in process. I am in a healthier place of healing and growth. Redemption has come knocking on my door, and I have chosen to bravely open up to it, in all of its scary, strange, disruptive glory.

Growth has not been easy. It has taken much time and courage. There are still painful places in my story to visit and name. I have been living life in the meantime; a life large, messy, and full of its own trauma, trial, and error. Life stops for no one.

Nine years ago, I was married for 15 years and had seven children ranging in age from 15 to 1. Little Mae, the surprising finale to our family, was not even on my radar. Now I have half of an empty nest, with four children living at home and four living life on their own.

Nine years ago I was 36. So young. I felt so old.

Dear thirty-something struggling with your role in your story, it is not over. It is not all written. There is hope. Investigating the shoe pile-up in your closet is worth it. You do not need to struggle alone. Find someone to help you find your brave.

Nine years later, I have had time to process and to practice new skills. I have learned more words for finding my feelings and speaking my reality. I have had people sit with and support and guide and encourage me. I have had time to sit with others.

Not everyone is called to this journey a friend once told me, as I wrestled and struggled and questioned and cried, every fiber in me wanting to go back to what was.

Nine years ago, I could not have known the role that the book To Be Told and the work of its author would play in my life. I could only take it in hand, take courage to read, and keep moving forward.

Now, I am not looking back, unless it’s to help me move forward.

On My Heart

It’s raw and it’s real.

I recently searched flight after flight to Seattle in September. Trying to hold onto summer, I was simultaneously preparing for fall.

There’s something about information overload and hundreds and thousands of flights and choices of airports and airlines and times of departure and arrival. There’s something about window after window opening up on screen and all of the airport codes blurring together that makes me want to yell, STOP!

I question the blur. Is it my forty-five-year-old eyes or just looking at a computer screen for an extended length of time?

I question my heart. Is this really a good idea? Really worth it?

I know that it is. Even when everything surrounding the planning and stirring inside feels really big. No turning back, now.

Just days ago my heart was encouraged by two friends independent of, and unknown to, each other. One came to drop something by. The other came for coffee.

At the end of the day, my heart was richer, my education fund fuller, and my dining room prettier with a new way I had arranged the plants, one of which was a gift.

Just days ago, friends dropped by a stash of bread, various types, because they thought we could use it. We can. The growing kids in this house are many, and there is always room for toast.

At the end of the day, the kids were fuller, the freezer was fuller, and the bread drawer was fuller. All gifts.

I know this is the right year. The time to do this work is now. There is kindness within the raw and the real, and I don’t have to look far to find it.

Pour Coffee and Ponder

I need to take my own advice. So good about helping everyone else to think and process, I often leave myself behind.

This morning I received a text that turned into a phonecall that ended with laughter and greater curiosity. It caused me to pull out some old writing, sketching, and dream journaling I had done and read and laugh and think, huh.

It is a gift to have those in your life who were there with you, wherever there was, and who are willing to go back there with you when needs be. To be able to share in safety without having to explain or over-explain is golden.

This was one of my people who just gets it.

As I sent a picture of a dream sketch I had made with this person in it and received comments back, the conversation ended with me texting, Enough about me and my dreams. Pour coffee and ponder yours.

That is what I needed, as well, reminding me that I often speak to others what I need for myself. So that is where this post finds me, pondering dreams and other parts of me, and writing with my poured coffee.

The gift of the slow Saturday morning gets eclipsed by all of the shoulds running through my head. Instead of resting in gratefulness for the space, I rush around trying to fill it. Sometimes just sitting in my PJs on an unmade bed with a laptop open at 9:50 on a Saturday morning is an act of defiance to all that threatens to bind me.

So that is where I am. Pondering with my poured coffee. Grateful for a partner engaging the kids and their chores so I can be on the other side of a closed door, I write.

Keeping Memories

I don’t think it’s that you have too much stuff. I think it’s that you have a lot of people to keep track of, and so it looks like too much.

These words of wisdom, spoken by my recently graduated high school senior, offered comfort to my heart, as I sat sorting and sorting and SORTING at the dining room table. End of the school year papers, awards, and report cards only scratched the surface. There were bits of art work, creative stories, and pictures in the mix. There were outgrown toys being boxed up and brought down from rooms.

There were my own issues coming into play, surfacing in the midst of the sorting. There was the reality of another year passing and change knocking on the door of my heart, or at least tapping me on the shoulder. There was a deep sense of reminding and remembering.

Once upon a time I dumped my memories into the trash. Boxes containing awards, medals from band and music achievements, childish journals and pictures, scrapbooks, all were cast aside. In their stead, I packed boxes of magazines for the mid-senior-year move that wrenched me 1,100 miles away from all that I knew.

Upon arrival at our new house, I asked when trash day was, so that I could leave the box of magazines on the curb. When packing up the old house, now several states away, mom had to leave her dining room chairs for lack of room on the moving truck, and dad’s tools went like hotcakes at a fire sale. I think we all were in a state of disorganization, shock, and chaos.

Maybe this factors into why my children’s memories are so important to me, and why I find it necessary to save things of perceived meaning. I want them to remember, or at least have the option of remembering. I don’t want to revise, though. Therein lies a bit of tension.

Each child has a clear plastic tote in the basement where items holding memories can be tossed. They also have a binder on a bookshelf with clear page protectors where papers can be inserted. Finally, each has a file folder where I can quickly sort and stash paper items to save for later.

I realize that everything cannot be saved, and I am not an advocate of hoarding. What holds meaning for one child does not for another, so one may have notebooks filled with written stories and hand drawn pictures, while another has objects no longer played with but still special.

Some kids are more sentimental than others.

Here is a list of things that I place value on and often date and save:

  • Creative writing or original stories
  • Hand-drawn pictures, especially “firsts” first drawing of a person or drawing of our family or written name. Usually found on the back of proper school work or on a church bulletin somewhere.
  • Samples from various developmental stages A kindergarten drawing of a family looks different than a third grade drawing, so I might have a sample of both.
  • Places where identity or dreams are processed What I want to be when I grow up. What makes me special now at whatever age I am.
  • Notes from others written to them
  • Words of affirmation
  • School certificates or awards
  • Team pictures
  • Programs or playbills from concerts or performances or recitals they were in
  • Notes written by them to us, even painful ones where they are angry
  • Birthday lists
  • Anything they request that marks a milestone or end of an era One child often asks me to put small items in the memory box that are outgrown, yet meaningful.

There are so many other options, and each family and child is different. I tend towards the tangible rather than the digital, even though I blog and do plenty of work with technology. No, I don’t save everything, and sometimes when going through items, I pare down further, realizing that I was a bit over-the-top.

On this particular sorting day, I processed my workbasket which was piled high with end-of-school-year paper items. Pulling everything out and separating into piles for each child and then into binders and finally onto shelves, the feeling of a slate being clean was very real.

I am ready for fall with the middle schoolers’ elementary items boxed away and the elementary child’s sorted into her binder. The high-school graduate is preparing to move and doing some serious de-cluttering of his own.

Maybe it is the season of mid-life processing that I am entering that calls me to keep memories for those who do not know their value, yet. Maybe it is the reckoning with myself. Whatever it is, by keeping memories for my children, I want to hold for them that who they are is connected to who they were as they grow into who they are becoming.

I also want to get a jump on my mama final exam.

May Goals Post

This month has me in a different place with posting on my goals.

It also has me on the last day of being a double number. Time is ticking away.

A precious friend responded to April’s goals update with a compelling reminder to be kind to myself. As she read through my awesome and amazing goals (her words), there were just so many that she became overwhelmed. She reminded me that I have a lot on my plate right now, and felt that even saying that was an understatement.

Her short, sweet email was full of kindness and concern, written from a place of seeing eyes and a tender heart, and I received it in exactly that way. In fact, I appreciated her perspective and ability to see me through caring eyes. She closed by affirming all that I do so well and reminded me of truth that I needed to hear.

With this in mind, I want to clarify that my posting of and updating these goals is not to overwhelm, compare, be compared to, or create stress. It is to chronicle much of what I already do in a more organized fashion. Recording them helps me to focus and stay on track.

  • Spiritual ~ Maintain daily quiet time and prayer, following current Bible reading plan. Journal responses and thoughts that result from that time. Spend time in stillness. Read one faith-based book/month.

Moving right along to I Kings, end of Psalms, Mid-Proverbs, and Acts. Jotted in my journal. Read When God Weeps.

  • Family ~ Connect with Steve intentionally each week on a heart-level. Risk sharing something scary or overwhelming inside of me with him during that time. Connect with at least one child intentionally each week. Keep track. Make the most of one~on~one impromptu moments that arise with the children. Keep track.

Steve and I have still not finished our 2 week e-course, but we are moving along. It will get done. I spent some time processing my feelings with him about my friend’s email, and he was able to speak truth into my reality. Kieran is graduating in a week, so we have spent much time communicating party plans and such. It was also prom month for him which meant fun picture taking time for me!

prom

prom

Kirk and I attended Kieran’s final percussion concert together followed by dessert at DQ with Kieran. Chloe and I celebrated the last day of piano lessons with a visit to McDonalds and trip to Gift and Thrift before her lesson. She found a typewriter for $5! Roo and I hit up Starbucks with Toothless, once again. Little Mae and I finished school together and have been spending our days at home before the others finish up and join us.

  • Social ~ Connect with at least one friend for coffee or conversation time each week. Say yes to fun. Make an effort to have people over to the house again starting with once/month. Adult kids and their guests are a bonus and not part of this number!

Some of my connections were over the phone this month. Fun was wine tasting with Steve at a the new tasting room at White Oak Lavender Farm and attending a fund-raising dinner at Cross Keys Equine Therapy. I was able to connect and re-connect with friends there and win a few great hand-crafted items at the silent auction! I am also counting adult kids and their guests as my people to have over, because that is the way things seem to be rolling! That is kindness in this season. In fact, counting my kids’ friends as guests counts, too. The house has not been quiet!

  • Physical ~ Do 20 minutes of yoga at least five times a week. Longer or more times is a bonus. Improve flexibility in my down dog. Practice presence on the mat. Consider walking Dewey as an opportunity to get exercise and fresh air and not an annoying burden built into my already full day!

I am consistently doing yoga and walking the dog. Physical activity is a necessary part of self-care, and I am owning that.

  • Teaching ~ Organize my teaching materials and office space. Write an encouraging note to one student/week recognizing individuality and strengths.

I finished the school year! All notes got written, and the year ended well. I still have some putting away to do, but overall, I am in a good spot with my teaching stuff.

  • Personal Development ~ Pursue the Allender Center’s Lay Counseling Certificate. Read one book per month related to personal growth.

This month’s personal growth book was Facing Codependency by Pia Mellody. It came in the mail as a surprise for me from Amazon, sent by my book buddy. I love my book buddy. Thank you.

  • Ministry ~ Attend Stephen Ministry meetings regularly. Participate actively. Return to worship team rotation at least once per cycle.

I attended the final Stephen Ministry meeting which was a yummy dinner provided by leadership along with a hearty discussion about the future, leaving me with much to pray and ponder over this summer. I am grateful for the summer season. I was able to be on worship team as a pleasant surprise. My scheduled date interfered with my son’s graduation weekend, and I didn’t think I would be able to switch with someone, but it worked out! That was a sweet thing. Thank you, Kendra!

  • Financial ~ Take intentional time with Steve to go over the family finances and budget and grow in understanding of our financial goals together.

The pile of receipts in my wallet screams Fail! at me. Each month begins anew. Steve and I are onboard in the understanding that this will get done, and all will be well.

  • Writing ~ Schedule intentional time each week to write and work on the blog. Submit one Red Tent post for consideration each month.

This month I wrote 9 posts on the blog and submitted to Red Tent for June on the topic Always.

If you made it this far, thank you! I will close with some of the words that I sent in response to my friend which may offer insight into my reality. I realize that I don’t have to explain myself. I am choosing to.

Thank you so much, Friend.

I feel loved and cared for after reading your words.

I hear you. I really do. Sometimes I need to be reminded of a healthy human perspective. I don’t have “normal” limits and natural boundaries, so it takes a lot of work for me to see that I am doing a lot. Seriously, this doesn’t seem like a lot, and I don’t say that to minimize. It is just my reality. I was always expected to achieve beyond my limits. Then that became the new baseline.

I can see where my lists would be overwhelming. Honestly they are more of a chronicle of what I already do with more intentionality built in. IF that even makes sense. Notice that they are ambiguous and not things like wake at a specific time or do this many loads of laundry every day. I really am ok with them.

The biggest and most overwhelming is the counseling certificate pursuit. But it is time. I need it for the personal growth and work aspect if nothing else.

Parenting is completely overwhelming, and it is difficult for me to find peace in the chaos of my life choices. I think that is another reason why I need the Seattle work this year. I need more words for my story. More peace with my path. . .

Don’t we all?

Be blessed, Dear Readers. You bless me much.

Mother’s Day Recap ’16

How was your Mother’s Day?

It’s a question asked and replied to the days following Mother’s Day, and now, a week later, I have some space and time to think about it and respond. How was it?

It was a different sort of day this year.

My husband, father of the ones who call me Mother, rose early to drive two hours to Richmond to meet up with a daughter for breakfast. After breakfasting with and seeing her off to work, he met up with another daughter and her husband who had kept our two youngest for the weekend. They went to church together and spent the afternoon before he drove home with the little girls, arriving in the early evening.

I woke to a quiet house and an apple fritter on the table to eat with my coffee before church. There was also a jar of homemade bath salts from my youngest and some lavender bath soak from my husband. Obviously, that is a theme for me and one way that I relax. The donuts left for the three at home with me were a thoughtful touch.

Heading to church with only two children was usual, but good. It’s amazing how the dynamic changes when the mix of people is rearranged. The text from my son’s girlfriend was lovely.

After church, I took my twins to Taco Bell for lunch. Much laughter and silliness and spilling of drinks occurred. Much staring and feeling like I was in the center ring while trying to exercise patience in the moment made for a memorable time with my middle schoolers.

clesn-up crew

I was thankful to my son for cleaning this spill cheerfully and didn’t feel at all bad that my daughter had gotten a medium, rather than a large, drink.

IMG_4702

Moments of laughter and happy children made lunchtime special.

There were kittens at my parents’ house, and since I plant a planter for my mother each year, I decided to go over there and kill two birds. My twins, born two years apart, enjoyed the babies while I enjoyed the soil and sunshine. Win-win.

kittens

After quick drive to drop some potted flowers to Steve’s mom, we headed home to rest.

We're twins!

I had high hopes for my quiet time that wasn’t exactly quiet. I tend to build things up in my head and think that there will be SO MUCH TIME to do ALL THE THINGS. I took a quick snooze, and then time was up.

No writing. No finishing reading a book. No soak in the tub or painting of nails. Lots of middle school engagement.

After quiet time my firstborn called and asked if I had seen the gift from her and her husband. They had contributed to my counseling certificate fund. Earlier in the day, I had noticed it shared on Facebook and thought THAT was their gift. A shout out of encouragement. Noticing a financial gift and their words of affirmation made my heart feel full.

Later, another child surprised me with a gift towards my goal, as well. I felt loved that he didn’t just tell me to get a job to earn some extra money, which, by the way, I am also doing in the form of not spending, finding things to sell, and looking for ways to pick up some extra work.

Husband returned with my little girls bearing gifts of chocolate and a gift that my adult daughter gave him for me at breakfast. It was two bottles of purple OPI polish. This was a HUGE surprise and so meaningful. I love having a fun new summer color or two and ALMOST broke down and bought myself a bottle the weekend before. But then I remembered I am saving for my certificate and refrained.

I love being known so well by my kids and appreciated each one’s individual bit of thoughtfulness.

There was one more surprise that came to me on Mother’s Day, but it needs its own post. I am still sorting where it fits in and the magnitude of its meaning to me.

So there’s the long answer to a short question. Mother’s Day was full of love and people and meaning and laughter. All of the good things that it should be enveloped my heart this year, leaving me so very grateful and feeling so very loved.

Thanks for asking!

 

Easy Answers; Quick Fixes

Don’t exist.

I sit tonight in the aftermath of a difficult parenting situation with a pileup of years of difficulty bearing down on me. Hearing hard words from children is always difficult ~ especially when they are tinged with truth.

Of course, there is perspective. We are the grownups; they are the kids. Does that invalidate their experience of their reality? How do I hear their words? Usually it’s with great difficulty due to the cacophony of voices shouting unhelpful responses in my head.

Parenting a wide range of ages and stages presents a unique challenge. Every family unit has its own unique challenges for which there are no easy answers or quick fixes.

But I want them SO badly.

Conversing with adult children is different than with those being actively parented. There is a maturity that comes with growing up and beginning to understand some of the parental perspective. There are questions and clarifications and hard things that they endured at our hands.

As we parent those still at home, there is a struggle to stay grounded in the midst of current conflict. There are always conflicts.

It is exhausting.

One of the many reasons I am pursuing this counseling certificate now, during this season, is for personal growth. It is not theoretical work but hands on dig into your story work.That is why it can’t be done solely online and involves showing up in person.

My hope is that rather than easy answers I will find words for hard realities. Instead of quick fixes, I long for lasting restoration. These are what I seek to find as I head into the 2016-17 school year.

It will be hard. An email that came today with additional information now that I am officially enrolled reminded me of this. In addition to all of the physical logistics are the logistics of the heart. It’s about to get even more real.

Thank you for joining me on this journey in whatever capacity your interest lands. Whether curiosity or encouragement or prayer support or financial support, it all matters. Thank you for being with me in the challenging and difficult places where things are neither quick nor easy.

Every Blessing!