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Happy 9th Birthday, Abby!

Oct 7, 2007 | Mothers and Daughters

Much has changed in the 9 years since you were born – and much has not. In the middle of the night on October 7, 1998, the doctor had to tell you to slow down; that we weren’t ready for you to make your appearance yet: so eager were you to burst into the world. That has not changed.

You continue to burst into my world (and that of many others) with eagerness and full of life. I love that about you.

What has changed? This past year has been one of much change for you and with it, your own testing of emotions, relationships, your very strength and resilience. You have grown as a friend – grieving over the hurt that others can cause, longing for fairness and justice, deeply wanting your intent and heart to be known and understood, standing loyally by those who might be overlooked or not chosen. I love that about you.

You have struggled with your own emotions – the things that hurt, that seem unfair, that don’t make sense. You have raged, wept, sat quietly, and thought things through, often without resolution, without available answers, without any fix. And still you have laughed, played, danced, sang, created, and loved. I love that about you.

Though not through teachers I would have desired, you have learned about disappointment, loss, and heartache. As much has changed in our family you have had the amazing ability to survive ambivalence – letting good and bad, confusion and resolution, celebration and mourning, joy and pain all be true simultaneously. It has been difficult. And it continues. And you wake up each morning (after a bit of prodding) ready to face a new day. I love that about you.

As I have walked through this past year’s days with you, Abby, I have been amazed at your tenacity, your demand for the good, your endless hope, your tender heart, your stamina, your strength, your loyalty, your sense of humor (who else sees a neon sign with a light out and says, “Look Mom, it’s Tacoma _Elf Storage!”), your laughter, your singing, your love. I love all these things about you.

And there’s so much more! This past year has brought fervent piano playing, competitive math skills, talent show performances, choreographed dance numbers to your favorite CDs, fashion sense, joke-telling, creative writing and storytelling…the list goes on and on as each day of your life brings more of you to the fore!

In the middle of the night 9 years ago you burst into my life with a cry that left no one doubting your will to live, your unmistakable presence, your indelible, undeniable mark. That is even more true now than then. What is also more true now, is that I love you more deeply and more profoundly than I did then. You have that effect. I am entranced – just as I was the moment I held you for the very first time. I love you.

Happy Birthday, sweet girl.

I’m Tired

Oct 1, 2007 | Mothers and Daughters, Women's Wisdom, Writing

There’s much to be done these days with work, children, life. All press for my prioritization. All require much. And, truth be told, all offer much.

Still, it’s hard to fit everything in. Something has to give and I can feel my resistance to doing the hard work of deciding what that will be. Even more, how that will be.

Obviously, my amazing and wonderful daughters must take first place. I cannot consider letting time or care go in this realm just so that I can have more time to get work done or have more time to write, read, or even watch a good movie!

That leaves work and life. Work is a huge category these days with so many projects weighing me down – all of which are important, necessary, urgent. And, honestly, I don’t resent or resist any of them. I want to get all of them done. I just don’t know that I can. Unless, of course, I let life go.

Life – those activities, spaces, and times that continue to offer me rest, laughter, sleep, relationships, breathing space, reflection, thought, writing, reading, and yes, watching movies. I can’t really let those things go because if I do, I don’t have the energy or desire to do my work or be the mom I want to be to my girls.

No answers forthcoming. Indeed, I’m tired.

So tonight, after the girls are tucked into bed, “life” and sleep win out over all the other things that could fill another hour or two of my night. I’ll have to trust that the one or two more hours of work or anything else will look better and get done more efficiently if I can actually stay awake tomorrow!

One might wonder how I’ve found time to type this post tonight. Honestly, these 10 minutes have been life-giving and well worth any expense. Besides, the girls are busy living their life – watching a good movie.

Rescued (about a cat, mostly)

Aug 14, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement, Mothers and Daughters

What we do not see, what most of us never suspect of existing, is the silent but irresistible power which comes to the
rescue of those who fight on in the face of discouragement. (Napolean Hill)

…the silent but irresistible power…

Isn’t that lovely? We need to be rescued. And we need to be rescuers. The girls and I got to experience that today.

We are Humane Society fanatics. Sometimes we visit the place just to ooh and aah, but this past week (after months of me promising and not delivering) we actually paid a deposit, waited four excruciating days, and then (paid more and then) picked up the newest rescued animal in our family: Daphne.

She’s purred nonstop from the time we brought her in the house. She’s laid calmly on the laps of both the girls. She’s even used the litter box (Hallelujah)! So far, so good. She’s been rescued.

Jasmine, the feline we rescued over 3 years ago, is not quite so happy. She’s hissing, hiding, and generally just mad. (Apparently, she’s forgotten about that silent but irresistible power.) She doesn’t want to be rescued today. She just wants to be left alone.

Really, I’m not that different from either Daphne or Jasmine (and sometimes in the very same day!). Maybe that’s why I love cats: I need both – to rescue and to be rescued. And some days one is far harder than the other. Why is that? Why do we sometimes demand to be rescued – far more than is reasonable? And why, at other times, do we refuse it?

It’s worth pondering…

But for now, I’m going to just enjoy a 5-month old kitten sitting on my lap, shedding up a storm, and purring. At least today, we’re both rescued – and rescuers.

Prrrrrrrrrr.

Happy 50th Anniversary!

Jul 11, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement, Mothers and Daughters

This past weekend my siblings, our families, and nearly 100 others celebrated the 50th anniversary of my parent’s wedding. Stunning. Mind-boggling.

Given that I’ll never celebrate that milestone, and knowing even some of what I do about the complexion and landscape of their years together, I find it even more amazing. All the hearty congratulations, the expressions of pride and honor, and the tears of joy and love that were shed do not even begin to signify the reality of what those 50 years have held. How does one even begin to capture or understand all of what this means? It’s impossible, really.

And it would have been completely impossible for my parents to ever imagine, 50 years ago, what their celebration would look like and feel like. How could they have known of the story that would be told in their lives – separate and intertwined? How could they have known of both the heartache and joy that awaited them in the birth and then life of the three of their children – and then four grandchildren? How could they have anticipated the ways in which they would disappoint, wound, celebrate, surprise, and care for one another?

It’s impossible. And that’s what I love about it. In a world that often leaves us skeptical and doubting; wanting assurances, answers, and safe bets, their marriage embodies blind faith…not always their own, but always God’s on their behalf. Sometimes because of their efforts and perhaps more times than not, in spite of them, their relationship has endured, stretched, and grown. Amazing. Stunning.

And maybe not so impossible. Maybe celebrating 50 years together reminds us that we’re really not in control and still, beauty, life, and love exist, survive, and even thrive. Maybe just being in relationship period – any relationship is completely impossible but sometimes, many times, it’s something that happens, lives, breaths, and continues anyway…a good news of sorts that calls us again and again to something larger than ourselves, Someone larger than ourselves.

For me, my parents 50th was and is the gospel lived out. To celebrate their years together renewed my belief in and commitment to God’s crazy love for us; a love that is amazing, stunning, and impossible – and frankly, is the only thing that enables our own.

Happy 50th, Mom and Dad. I’m so proud of you and love you very much.

Getting Drenched and Losing Control

Jun 27, 2007 | Mothers and Daughters, Women's Wisdom

This is one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite authors – Anne Lamott in Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith:

Most of what we do in worldly life is geared toward our staying dry, looking good, not going under. But in baptism, in lakes and rain and tanks and fonts, you agree to do something that’s a little sloppy because at the same time it’s also holy, and absurd. It’s about surrender, giving in to all those things we can’t control; it’s a willingness to let go of balance and decorum and get drenched.

Much of my life lately has been presenting numerous opportunities (whether I like it or not) to give in to those things I can’t control…to get drenched. And as much as I’ve dreaded it, this letting go, this getting wet, it has been amazingly refreshing, cleansing, and freeing.

How early in life do we begin to understand that we are to not be sloppy; that we are to maintain order and decorum; that silliness and play are not the priorities?

My daughters, now 8 and 10, know these rules and, undoubtedly, unwittingly, have learned them from me. I wonder how I might un-teach those – for them and for me? I can already feel my anxiety mount: I’d have to let go and get drenched even more!

My own sense of control (whether real or imagined) is not contained solely within myself. It expands to those over whom I have influence.

In fact, perhaps the more out-of-control I feel, the more I demand it of others. “Clean your room.” “Don’t make a mess.” “Can you please chew over your plate, not the floor?!” “No, we’re not going to turn on the sprinkler. You’d get soaked!” Even typing these examples I can feel their dryness, their rigidity, their grasping for the illusion that my world is working the way I want it to. They are, as Lamott says, our proclivity toward staying dry, looking good, not going under. I need to lose control – of more, and more often!

In the midst of my musings, I’m struck by God’s chosen lack-of-control over us, the absurdity of it, and the freedom it allows and invites.

Truly, I wouldn’t want it any other way.

I need to turn on some sprinklers and get drenched…with my daughters by my side.

A Daughter of Defiance

Jun 24, 2007 | Mothers and Daughters, Women's Voice & Power

I’m working on a slide show for my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary celebration. In the process, I came across this shot of my mom – taken 45+ years ago.

There’s something about seeing her in this way – young, seemingly carefree, not knowing what the journey ahead would bring – that is so profound when juxtaposed to the word above her head.

DEFIANCE.

I’m compelled by this word…on behalf of women, my own story, my daughters, my mother.

Perhaps this will be the name of my some-day-hoped-for book: A Daughter of Defiance. And perhaps this photo of my mom should grace the cover…