Tag: mama

As a mother, I cannot tell you how many times I have questioned an action of one of my kids. Why did you write all over yourself with permanent marker? Why did you lick the mirror? (Reagan – age 2)

It is so close I can almost feel it – the shackles of early bedtimes and even earlier morning alarms coming off, full evenings free from doing homework and nagging about homework and checking homework, sun-kissed skin and floating around in swimming pools, water balloon fights and bike riding until the sun goes down – summer. It is so close. All we have to do is make it through May.

Two days before she turned 11, Miss Maylie cooked us all dinner. She has really gotten into doing things like that. In fact, she called me on my way home and asked if she could get it started. She knew exactly how to prepare it as she had watched me do it numerous times.

I didn’t want to write about this this week. In fact, I was just going to skip writing at all. But, sometimes writing is therapeutic for me – and even if I didn’t turn this in, at least I got it out.

Last Sunday, I got baptized. Immediately following, my daughter got baptized. Right after that, my bonus daughter got baptized. And by the end of the service, my other daughter felt God nudging at her heart and was at the alter proclaiming her salvation.

This week, a memory popped up on my timeline reminding me that I started writing this column seven years ago this month. Seven years. So much has changed in seven years.

I am in a season of waiting right now, and I can tell you one thing, I am not very good at it. Patience may be a virtue (my mom preached that to me over and over again as a kid), but it is certainly one that is still under construction for me.

Instead of a big, far away vacation this year, Lee and I decided that we would do some smaller 2-3 day trips closer to home — spread them out a bit and give us more glimpses to look forward to. Up first, was an indoor waterpark.

Last week, I got some news that made me sad. And, while I had been anticipating the news and knew it was coming, it still didn’t really make it any easier. Throughout the day, I held my composure – like a stubborn sadness stacked in my cards causing me to hold them close to my chest so no one could see them.

Every night I pull out Maylie and Reagan’s planner, confirm they finished their homework and initial it. Then I go to the bottom of their next day and write a short little note. It is usually not more than a few words – just enough to remind them they are loved, that I am proud of them or to pray through any obstacles they may come across.