Category Archives: Jesus

When strangers speak the truth

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Have you ever had someone who doesn’t really know you, say something very profound to you?

And have you noticed that when that happens, that person usually is clueless as to the depth of the statement s/he has just made?

If you answered yes to these questions, you will understand what happened to me today at the Apple Store.

I had scheduled a One-on-One appointment with a skilled Apple technician because as of Wednesday, I became the proud owner of a brand new aluminum 15″ MacBookPro. This computer purchase was necessitated because I was never the owner of the MacBookPro I have been using years with my job.

But when I lost my job in June, essentially I lost all rights to that computer. It wasn’t mine, was never mine and they deserved to get it back. It’s as simple as that. On this cloudy summer day, I brought both computers to the Apple Store to make sure I had transferred all the personal stuff from the old computer to my new “baby.”

Austin, the Apple guy, guided me through the process and everything was going quite well. I had been looking forward to the appointment and getting the job done. With great ease, Austin helped me and erased non-work items off the computer.

And then he said it…

“There won’t be any trace of you on this computer.”

And with a nod of my head, Austin clicked a few more things and 1,866 items began to disappear before my very eyes.

I choked back the tears. I thought to myself, “Don’t cry. Don’t. Cry. You’re at the Apple Store for Pete sake! Puh-lease!”

So I adjusted my emotional big girl panties and didn’t cry. Wow, that wasn’t easy! There were some quiet and awkward moments where neither Austin nor I spoke.

Photo flashback of my previous life. I was blessed to do this and relieved when it was all over. Eight years was enough.

Photo flashback of my previous life. I was blessed to do this and relieved when it was all over. Eight years was enough.

I composed myself and watched the computer transition from being something I used and personalized to being just another piece of work equipment ready for someone else. Austin was right. There isn’t any trace of me on the computer.

I hope I will be remembered for the work I did and the love I poured into it. But more importantly, as a wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend, oh how I want to have lived a life that matters. I pray that the traces of me I leave behind are worthy of the life I was given.

Psalm 103:15-16 and verse 22
As for man, his days are like grass, he flourishes like a flower of the field;
the wind blows over it and it is gone,
and its place remembers it no more.
Praise the LORD, all his works everywhere in his dominion.
Praise the LORD, O my soul.

Being still

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Now that I’m back home after a great vacation, I face an empty nest. The guys started school today and Nate leaves for West Point on Sunday. It’s the first time in my life where my kids are at school, the hubs is at work and I’m home without babies or a job.


It reminds me of the time when my youngest OS was old enough to go to a gymnastics class by himself. I had longed for the day when Ike was old enough for me to not be there. When that day arrived; however, soon after dashing to the grocery store, I vividly recall pushing the empty cart along the aisles at Kroger and fighting back the tears. My orange-haired, freckle faced toddler was not squeezing me. Instead my stupid purse filled the place where Ike used to be. Oh, how I loved madly embracing that cherub mid-turn at the end of each grocery aisle and I didn’t care who saw us or what they thought! (Tears are falling from my eyes just thinking about this…)

But here I am now, a chapter of my life is unfolding. I am adrift and possess a blank canvas of opportunity. Oh, the possibilities!

The varied bass tones which fill my home will be making noise elsewhere. I feel the void and the quiet. Everyone is going forward. Where am I going? I am not going back to a familiar job that I loved and was pretty good at. It is weird, because about this time last year, I was busy scheduling speaking opportunities. Now that season of life is over. Poof. Just like that. I am relieved because the work was so draining and sad because I loved the kids and the message we shared. If I could color my feelings, they would be a dark mustard (for the sad feelings) and a streak of pink (representing excitement.) Yes, it is an awkward and ugly collection of hues.

So what is next? I’m taking a Wednesday morning Bible study and I’m going to lead a girls’ Bible on Monday night. That much I know. And honestly with this extra time I now have, my house can be cleaner, I could be leaner, that list of improvements, both personal and otherwise, is long.
Many Bible verses pop into my head but this one has echoed within me…from Psalm 46…

Be still and know that I am God

That’s where I am, keepin’ it real…

Sea glass is so lovely

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Taking a leisurely walk on the beach in the morning with the hubs, the ocean’s frothy waves roll onto my feet and I spot a little treasure. You don’t find too many intact seashells these days but you can still find wonders. Yesterday I began collecting something new…I now collect sea glass.

Sea glass is created when a piece of glass falls into the ocean. Stupid knuckleheads chuck beer and soda bottles into the ocean and the water and sand tumble and smooth the sharp edges. The result is pretty pieces of smooth, frosted glass in a variety of colors.
The more I searched for sea glass, the more I found!

Sometimes I’d find sea glass in a mass of shells and sand. I’d see slivers of shells made of tans and soft oranges and suddenly, a piece of sea glass in a minty green or a gentle turquoise would emerge. Or a beautiful piece of amber sea glass would peek in sand, the result of a wave. My heart skipped a beat when that would happen.


Later in the day, two of my OS joined me and soon we began a new collection…of shark’s teeth. And then I began another new collection, I began searching for shells to spell my name. I thought it would be impossible to find a “Y” and no sooner had I said that, when I gazed at a shell in my hand and realized that a “Y” was carved right on the shell! Talk about fun!


But sea glass and I have a few things in common. I confess that there are some jagged places in my past and plenty of broken pieces. Life has tumbled me about and I have been tossed by the waves of the world. As I reflect on my life, the good and the bad, the things I did to myself and others and the things that have happened to me, I have seen how the Lord has used those pieces formerly tossed aside to ultimately make something of worth. He has smoothed out the rough places, (ok, some of the rough places as I’m an ongoing project!) and the things I assumed were junk and created a person of greater value. Like sea glass, I have experienced a transformation. I am a new creation. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old is gone, the new has come.” 2 Corinthians 5:17


We have one more day to go before going home. I can’t wait to comb the sand for more sea glass to serve as a memory of what God can do for even a wretch like me.

We did it! Thanks Pistol Pete!

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I’ve never been a big fan of 11 year old kids reading the f-bomb. I don’t know, I guess I’m weird like that.

And so you can only imagine my horror 18 months ago when my orange-haired, freckle faced, youngest OS announces one day that the book his daddy got him had that lovely word printed ON THE VERY FIRST PAGE! I nearly fell out of my chair.

It was a basketball book entitled Pistol: The Life of Pete Maravich and the reason the hubs bought it for our OS is because Isaac loves basketball. Our OS needed to work on his reading and boy, was I glad our OS said something about the curse word! Faced with a dilemma, do I throw the book in the trash or take it back to Borders, I took immediate action. I chose to do neither but I did do something with that book I never expected.

I read it out loud to my son. The G-rated, completely edited and censored version, of course.

And guess what?

I loved every minute of it. We finished the book on Friday. 323 pages, 18 months, we did it!

If you know me at all, you know I am not a sports person. Much to my OS’s chagrin, I still can’t remember the positions they play in their respective sports. It drives them nuts! And for the last year and a half, Ike and I have been reading a book about the great basketball legend, Pete Maravich.

When we finished I seriously wanted to cry. It was an accomplishment and a blessing. We didn’t merely read the book; we took it deeper. We talked extensively about the book. Pistol Pete Maravich was a complex man with a difficult life. He had many excesses and demons, he had a complicated childhood ~ there were many dimensions to this man. This book touched both of our hearts.

And we did even more than that. We did A LOT of vocabulary. Always by our side was the trusty Webster’s. At times, my OS loathed that dictionary with a passion but together we learned words such as:
mollify, triumvirate, augur, majordomo, chaw, vestigial, bonanza, vituperative, excoriate, progency, ignominy, assiduous, junto, bifurcated ~ nearly 200 words my OS searched. It turns out I don’t think Ike could have read this book without me. It was an advanced read for both of us but so worth it.

We learned so much ~ about Pete Maravich (he came to know Jesus and died of a heart condition while playing basketball with Dr. James Dobson) and we learned things about each other too. Sometimes, while I read to Ike, he would draw and despite countless emotional outbursts “I hate this stupid book!” “I don’t want to read!” (read this in your loudest, most emotional 12 year old boy voice!), we didn’t give up. The time we had with each other makes me feel that this “fait accompli” has blessed us with an “inexorable” experience which has left me feeling “ebullient” inside. How’s that for using my new words?


I must share with you another book we read together which was delightful which was very different than Pistol. I’ll do that soon, it’s just the best.

Any ideas as to what to read next are welcome. I’m really proud of us. Don’t let anyone tell you you can’t read to older kids. You’re missing out on a treat, seize those special moments.

Thanks to a curiously placed cuss word, I got treasured time with my OS which beats sitting in front of the stupid box (TV) any day.

PS. Don’t tell Ike that I’m working on a comprehension test next. 😉 Spelling and grammar will count!

On the mission field, part two ~ new creation

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It occurred to me that this young mother didn’t want just anyone to cut her two year old’s hair…she wanted ME! WHAT??? Didn’t she know that I had never cut anyone’s hair, including my own three OS? Didn’t she know I farmed out that service to qualified hands? Where’s a Sports Clips or a Great Clips when you need one?

The mom returned, scissors in hand and I ridiculously asked her what kind of haircut she wanted her daughter to have. This is funny because it wasn’t like I had a variety of coifs from which to choose. That’s when she blew my mind and informed me that the child in front of me with a long, thick ponytail wasn’t a girl ~ this little person was a boy! Huh? And his name was Richard, not Ricardo. Dumbfounded I stood by a dusty boulder in this forsaken village. The pressure was on. My heart pounded faster.

I prayed to Jesus and put the scissors in my hand and began the job. Richard was the best client a stylist as new and inexperienced as I could ever want. So still, so patient, if he only knew who was about to give him his first haircut! At first I just simply cut the long ponytail but as I looked at the precious face before me, something came over me. I felt empowered to do more. The scissors began trimming around Richard’s ears, giving him bangs, the whole works. There was some styling going on! Richard’s mom gathered some of his locks into a plastic bag I as many American moms have done in the past. I don’t believe I cut Richard’s hair. I believe God did.


Then she asked me my name and told me that the first person who cuts a baby’s hair became that child’s godmother. Oh my goodness.

I stood there, astonished and handed the young mama the bottle of shampoo. At long last, the Bumble and Bumble had found its rightful owner. She gave a heartfelt thank you and scooped up Richard. Just before it was time to board the bus and say farewell, this Peruvian mama returned and paraded Richard in front of me. She must have taken him into her simple abode and used the shampoo immediately. There in front of me stood Richard, his hair was freshly washed, wearing a collared shirt looking cute as can be. This child looked like a little boy!

I wonder what my OS is learning and where he is in Guatemala. What are his stories? I can’t wait to know! I’ve learned this and I’m sure he is as well. The Lord can use our simple gifts, our imperfect efforts (which I have in abundance.) This is the power of transformation.

I have another story about shampoo, this time in El Salvador. Do you want to hear it? Tell me your story about transformation, I’d love to hear it!

Being on the mission field, part one

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Prior to going to Guatemala, I gave my middle OS a project. A crafting project. Most 14 year old boys don’t really like doing crafts. My 14 year old boy is no exception but with constant prodding on behalf of his mom, my son made these…

Aren’t they pretty? So simple and cheap but I just know that God is going to use that boy and these necklaces in a powerful way. How do I know? Because two years ago I had a similar experience. Not with a craft item but with a simple bottle of shampoo.

In July 2007, I went to Lima, Peru on a mission trip. Prior to leaving my hairstylist, (the one who puts pink highlights in my hair), gave me a big bottle of Bumble and Bumble shampoo to use there. Not for my head, there would be no vanity on this trip, but because we were going to be washing children’s hair. In certain areas of Peru, people can’t even afford shampoo, it is a luxury they often do without. I packed it eagerly curious as to what the Lord had in store.

Weeks later, to my astonishment, I found myself washing children’s hair on a filthy, dirt-covered street. The kids would just line up and with nary a peep, we would pour cold water from a hose on their head. With plastic gloves, I would squirt a dollop of shampoo on their little charcoal black heads and proceed to wash their thick Peruvian hair. We used buckets to rinse the water and their attentive mothers would just look on and act so grateful. It was rather amusing because there were even adult men lining up for our hair washing services but we had to decline and concentrate just on the kids.

It was our last day on the mission field. The big bottle of shampoo I was given had been too cumbersome to lug around for our hair washing projects so I still had it in my possession. I certainly wasn’t going to be taking it back home with me. I trusted it was meant for someone else so I placed big bottle in my backpack determined to give it to someone deserving.

We arrived at an impoverished village. The ramshackle homes spoke of a hard life bereft of most creature comforts. I helped prepare chicken foot (yes, chicken FOOT) soup and served hot chocolate to the scads of children milling about.
Another group washed hair and when we were nearly all done, a mother approached me. Through the help of a translator, she asked me if we cut hair. I knew I didn’t cut hair so I went the easy route and said we didn’t have any scissors. Then she told me, not to worry, she had scissors.

Because I’m so quick on my feet (HA!), I presumed someone could do it and I told this mama we could probably do that. I went inside the bus and asked if anyone cut hair. No one listened to me and then it occurred to me that she wanted ME to cut her child’s hair…something I have never done before, not in my own country and certainly not in South America…


I’ll write another post and tell you what happened next…

June 29th is a curious day

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What is up with these kids of mine? They are all gone as of Monday. And what is up with June 29th? This is the second year in the row that I have bid farewell to one of my OS on that blemished day. When I told my boys that I wanted them to be confident, independent people, I wasn’t thinking they were going to take me seriously! When I told them to go where the Lord wanted them, I still hadn’t finished praying specifically that it was just going to be up the street not far away as in West Point or Guatemala! Zheesh!

How come they listen to me about developing into their own person and following the Lord’s leading but these guys can’t seem to remember to pick their clothes up off the floor?? Kids these days…

The house is now empty. Nate has been gone for two weeks at Camp Buckner until 15 July (I wrote it the Army way ~ huah.) He is doing fun things like shooting stuff, sleeping on rocks and other assorted merriment. Ike, my not so little orange-haired, freckle-faced 12 year old left for Crossroads, a Christian summer camp complete with a tummy ache just prior to leaving. Miss me!

And then there’s my middle OS whose journey-bound to Guatemala. Wasn’t I the one who prodded this kid in the fall? “Aaron, you really should go. Aaron, this trip is made for you ~ you’re gonna love it and it will mess with you (in a good way.) Aaron, I’m tellin‘ ya, you really should pray about doing this…” He listened and now look at me. Waa.

This will be Aaron’s first trip overseas and it’s without us! What was I thinking? I truly believe this is where the Lord wants my boy and I am excited to hear about all that he experiences along the way. I know my OS will have a blast as he uses the talents the Lord has given him to minister to the people he encounters but I am admittedly human and already miss him.


We took the OS to the airport yesterday and I think if it had been possible he could have flapped his wings and flown to Miami all by himself. “I’m pumped!” was the frequently heard sentence for the last two days. I hung onto my OS’s neck and once outside my grasp, Aaron strode confidently to the security gates.


Just like his brother on R-Day, Aaron never turned around and ran back into my arms – my open arms that desperately wanted to hold him back but didn’t because it would have been way wrong.

Here is Aaron – June 29th, 2009

This is Nate – June 29th, 2008 ~ This is a picture I can barely look at, oh the anguish and the pride of that day!

Instead, just like his brother last June 29th on R-Day, Aaron moved forward to his destination and never looked back. I guess those are indications that just like his brother, Aaron was ready to leave. Not because he hates his parents or his life but because it is time. That is a good thing, right??? Somebody tell me “Cindy, this is a good thing!”

Three girls going on the same mission trip were flying out on the same flight. It was delayed by four hours and I distinctly recall talking to Aaron and he said he was having fun with his “friends.” They even all sat together on the plane! We spoke to him later that night and he was giggling and having trouble finishing our conversation. Why? He was having fun with his “buddies” already cracking jokes with the fellas on the trip.


The fourth of July is this week but I think June 29th is fast becoming our family’s Independence Day.

I fed 11 teenage boys and lived to tell the tale!

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I hope you have all recovered from my love letter to beets. Something just came over me and all I can say is that I am feeling a mushy letter for lettuce coming up in the future, just warning you. The lettuce at the farmer’s market been absolutely delicious but I’ll wait for another time to lavish its praises. However, lettuce was in some small measure, one of the reasons I offered to make dinner for a group of teenage boys last night.


For the past several months, my middle OS Aaron has been involved in an accountability group of about a dozen young men. They are Christian guys who pray for each other, talk about struggles and encourage each other. Where was a group like this for me back in the day??? I could have used a female version of this!

They call themselves BOB which stands for Band of Brothers. Isn’t that cool? Dutifully Aaron goes to BOB meetings once a week at a nearby place and the guys just talk about Scripture, share and hang out.

When I have asked Aaron what they talk about, he holds their conversations so sacred, he refuses to tell me. I respect that and see that they are forming a trusting bond, something so many teenagers (and adults) need. I admire his sincere desire to live as Scripture says, “as iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.”

This week they were figuring out BOBish plans. My middle OS asked if he could go out to dinner with the guys and that’s when we suggested hosting a gathering at our house. I looked forward to it all week long because, well, I love to entertain. In my “formative” years, I tried to quell my domesticity but now I’ve got to say, it’s on. I’m full tilt and up in the housewifey hizzy, apron and all.

And it is a joy to have company, especially to have a house full of boys feasting on my food. One day I will have to share my kitchen with their girlfriends, then wives and then hopefully grand-daughters so I savor each moment now as if it were a juicy red, locally grown, in-season beet (sorry, I had to do it.)

For the meal, I made marinated pork tenderloin, brown rice, baked beans, fresh green salad with my own dressing, grilled white corn still in the husk and watermelon. I determined to feed these boys a healthy meal. No hydrogenated potato chips or CheezBalls would enter their lips on my premises, no sirree! We even had homemade soda = fruit juice and Club Soda. My OS love it and it’s better than all that other icky stuff.

One by one they arrived until 11 boys ranging in age from 13-18 circled around our kitchen island, held hands and prayed before digging in to dinner. One of the sweetest sights of the evening was when a BOB who’s actually named Scott arrived at my front door with his Bible. You gotta love it! My husband, Isaac and I ate indoors while the BOBs enjoyed fellowship outside.


In general, I find guys easy to please, at least in the food department. They gobbled up every bit of the food and even said “please,” “thank you,” and “this is awesome!” several times. I was blessed to have served them and was so proud of my youngest OS, Ike who willingly assisted me.

And then afterward, they stayed outside. It’s blazing hot these days and the BOBs were welcome inside but they crowded around the deck instead. I have no idea what they discussed except to say that when Aaron walked in for a moment and I inquired oh so innocently, “Hey, Aar, are you guys talking about spiritual stuff?” My son said yes but that was the extent of the conversation. I sat in the kitchen by my faithful friend, my sewing machine, and secretly wished I was a fly or a mosquito buzzing about, able to listen. Not to be nosey but just to hear the sweet sound of young men earnestly seeking things of God.

As the night drew to a close, the Scripture found in 3 John 1:4 came wafting into my heart, “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.”

Blogging friends meet at last

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Woke up on Monday morning with nothing to do. Considering the Monday a week before was, shall we say, eventful?? I was happy but a little disappointed because I don’t like feeling unproductive.

I was checking my facebook aka my lifeline 😉 and I had a message from someone very special. It was from my friend Sharon and she and her family were coming to visit! I really love entertaining so naturally I was thrilled but what was even cooler is that this would be the first time I would be meeting this person I call my friend!

Sharon and I met through my blog. A year ago, the West Point Alumni Association placed a link to my blog of their online newsletter. My post was about the fateful day when Nathan began his journey at West Point. The day they posted my blog, I got 1,000 hits on my blog which blew my ever-lovin‘ mind, y’all!

So that’s how we met. We have kept in touch since that time and it’s been neat finding out we had a lot in common.

Mom, me too!
Wife, me too!
She blogs, I blog!
She loves Jesus, so do I!
I went to El Salvador and Peru on mission trips; she and her family are moving to Papua, New Guinea to serve the Lord!
I have an OS at West Point; her husband is a grad!

We both used to work with teenagers and teach them healthy life skills! Jazz hands!
And the list goes on and on…

This year I have met several new friends and it’s kismet when I meet someone and there is this connection as if we have known each other for a long time.

Suddenly the day went from nothing to do, to having something very special to do! I rushed to the farmer’s market and put the OS to work straightening up the house. 
I am such a housewifey kind of girl, I set the table pretty which is seriously one of my fave things to do in life. My serotonin levels soar when I am decorating, especially when I am putting special touches around my dining room table, you have no idea. 

With my OS’s help, (I am determined to raise three sons who know how to cook!), I prepared shepherd’s pie, a fresh salad of ruffly, purple lettuce, ripe orange cherry tomatoes and fresh beets and then a bowl of freshly sliced peaches and blueberries. We enjoyed pleasant conversation throughout the night and Nate and Paul discussed WP things. I observed they used acronyms a lot more than non-Army people. 😉 If they weren’t moving to PNG, I’d want Sharon as a neighbor and close friend. Why, we could do girly things together, she could teach me about letter boxing and geo-caching. I have no idea what I could offer her except a few laughs, but it would have been fun.

After dinner, we treated the Bowers to Goodberry’s which is home to the world’s most delicious frozen custard. 

If you are ever in the area, come over to my house and we’ll take you to Goodberry’s as well!


In this great big world we live in, as vast and busy as it is, we carved out time to connect face to face with some wonderful people. We got to know each other via the internet but had some precious time together in person. Check out her blog and you’ll see why I’m glad to have this new lady in my life and heart! 

Floods

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Like all good daughters, I have subscribed a number of MY personal issues onto my mother. Because of my mom, I (fill in the blank)______________. Many of you probably can relate and would admit that the mother/daughter relationship thing can be hard and complicated. Maybe that’s why the Lord, in His infinite wisdom, choose to bless me with three sons! To demonstrate, here is but a small list of the things I have blamed my mother for in the past:


I lack athletic prowess because my mom didn’t stress the value of sports.
I don’t know how to swim because my mom never took me for swimming lessons as a small child.
I am bad with money because my mom didn’t teach me the value of a dollar.

And the list goes on and on…I will stop there as to not further embarrass myself. 

But yesterday, I found myself humbled and blessed. Something that has long been on my “list” needs to be removed.

For decades now I have told people that there are not a lot of photos of me when I was a child. If you and I were in a random conversation and you happened to mention something about pictures of yourself as a kid, I would probably have sighed heavily and told you of my picture woes. (Strum sappy violin music). When I was a girl growing up in Wheaton, Illinois, we had a flood in our basement and it destroyed, among other things, boxes and boxes of pictures. I recall the soggy, blobby paper mess and the dismay I felt in my young girl’s heart as I saw my memories destroyed. Who was to blame for the flood? Well, it honestly didn’t matter, I knew the culprit. I suspect you can guess my prime suspect. Yes, it was my mom. 

This week, following a meeting with my favorite organization consultant, I began the necessary and tedious task of de-cluttering my home. In various closets, possibly in every room there is a box or basket full of pictures. This week I have begun to weed through them, tossing out the bad photos, hanging on to the good ones. Geralin has a theory about pictures which I now claim as my own. She says, “if I don’t look good in the picture, then it goes.” Geralin’s my girl, one of my fab five, as my youngest OS would jest.

I am amazed at the scads of pictures we have EVERYWHERE! The stockpiles of pictures blurred my head as I tossed one photo after another into the trash. It has been freeing to re-claim lost closet space and re-discover sweet pictures of days gone by.

And last night, I believe the Lord healed a part of me because in the frenzied mass of photos, I am finding a lot of pictures of myself. There are many of me as a little girl on random Picture Days, a couple of me walking up the sidewalk for my first day of kindergarten, a few particularly unflattering pics of me blowing out candles on a birthday cake as a pimply teen, you get the idea. 

Oh, dear friends, I have found me. 


My past was not completely destroyed in that basement. There were salvages of my life still preserved, in greater proportion than I ever realized.

And so in the tv room, after everyone was in bed, I held picture after picture of myself in my hands and drifted back to those moments. They are not gone. They are preserved both in these pictures but also within me. Sorting through all the clutter and getting rid of the unnecessary, buried among it all, was Cindy. She hadn’t dissolved away into nothingness. As I make room in my home, I am finding new places in my spirit as well.

I’m learning that I can no longer blame my mom for a lot of things I have done in the past. Honestly, I have been aware of that for about 12 years now since asking Jesus into my heart and looking squarely at my own contrition and culpability. But how immature I have been to blame an act of God like a flood on my poor mother. I mean really. For goodness sake, she had no control over it no matter how much power I think a mama can wield. 

I hesitate for a moment and wonder to myself. Actually, a jab of anxiety wafts over me…what will my OS blame me for? What will be something that they say I should have done differently? Will we just laugh about it or will I carry around grief and guilt. Ew. What salvages of their own shortcomings will they try and attribute to me, their mom who, like my own, is trying the very best she can to make a sweet and wonderful life for them?


That is not something that I can answer. Today I’d rather focus on what I can claim victory over. I found me. I, or rather, remnants of me, weren’t swept away in an unpredictable flood.  And if all the pictures were gone, I now admit it wouldn’t have been my mom’s fault in the first place. 

When we went out for a late-night run to the grocery store to buy dish washing detergent, (doesn’t that sound like a fun outing!?), I decided to release this guilt from her once and for all. She has been staying at my house recovering from surgery on her wrist and a bout of pneumonia. The healing process has been painful and discouraging but last night, I believe both of us got healed in a way we weren’t expecting. We got in the car and I couldn’t wait to tell her my revelation. It wasn’t a gushy moment but I felt a weight off my heart and I noticed she had a look of contentment on her face and it wasn’t because we were going to buy dish washing detergent at 10pm! 
 

Guilt and blame, in all of its forms, are as destructive as a flood. Forgiveness and grace, on the other hand, fellow imperfect mamas of the world, well that can wash over a multitude of sins. 

Hallelujah, grace like rain, washing down on me…


Hmmm…