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Tag: parenting

Waiting

Waiting

Waiting. As moms we do a lot of waiting. We wait 9 months for our children to be born. When we finally hold their sweet bodies, we think the waiting is done. Yet we soon realize, the waiting has only begun. We wait at the doctors’ appointments. We wait at the drive thru. We wait for dad to finally come home. We wait at soccer practices and theater rehearsals. We wait for wounds to heal and bleeding to stop. I…

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Change 

Change 

Driving home from the orthodontist, my teenager sulkily asked, “when can I get these off?”  Not wanting to tell him the truth, I replied, “in awhile.” He gave me “the look.”   Hesitantly, I told him the truth. “18-24 months.”   His reaction was what I expected.   Change is difficult. Just ask the disciples. When Jesus rose from the dead, I’m sure they wanted to cling to him and never let go. They knew now He was the Son…

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Desperate 

Desperate 

I looked up and down the street. He wasn’t there. My toddler son was gone. After dropping a bag of groceries in the house, I had returned for my almost two year old son. Now he was missing. The sidewalk was empty. Every yard on the street was vacant. I began to scream wild, desperate screams.   The Lord is searching. He is desperate for us. He cries out for us. His voice isn’t always audible, but it’s always present….

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I-Drive McDonalds

I-Drive McDonalds

Six years ago, we left our family and friends in Kentucky for a new adventure: life in Central Florida. With so many activities and places to visit in a state where tourism is king, we weren’t quite sure where to start. One of the first places we checked out was the world’s largest entertainment McDonald’s and Play Place off of International Drive in Orlando. We were sadly disappointed as the food was not that great and the restaurant was quite…

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Closed Doors

Closed Doors

“When the Lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window.”   Maria, in the musical, The Sound of Music, had dreamed of and planned a life in the abbey. A conniving Baroness, a rigid, sea captain, and seven, mischievous children were not in her plan. The door to her dreams had rudely banged closed. I know exactly how Maria feels. My life hasn’t been the life I pictured as a child. My idealistic pictures of my future never included…

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Happy Mother’s Day 

Happy Mother’s Day 

Sometimes I glance down at my hands and scream. What are my mom’s hands doing at the end of my arms? I hear myself reprimanding my kids and I jump back. How did my mom’s voice become mine? When I look in the mirror, I try to find a resemblance to her. After all, turning into my mom isn’t bad.  She loved playing scrabble with me and always looked forward to snow days when she could spend some extra time…

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It’s Not Fair

It’s Not Fair

It’s not fair!” As a parent, I have heard this cry too many times to count. He got the bigger piece. He got a toy, a treat, a gift I never received. My kids want their lives to be fair. They want each piece of cake the same. How many times have I explained that life isn’t fair. Yet, how many times have I went to the Lord with the same cry, it’s not fair! Her life is better! Her…

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Not Enough? 

Not Enough? 

The disciples were caught. They had been arguing about who was the best, and Jesus had heard them (Mark 9:33-34). I usually glaze over this passage, as I don’t tend to argue with my girlfriends about who is the best. After all, the disciples are men and not everything that happens to them applies to me, right? Yet, as I was reading Lisa Harper’s study, The Gospel of Mark (check it out here), I read her phrase “pride disguised as…

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What If? 

What If? 

“What if?” I voiced the question to my husband for the first time after my son had the seizure. “What if he isn’t ok?”   The “what if” questions had been torturing me for the last 24 hours. At last we had the baby we had been waiting for, but it wasn’t anything like I had pictured. A natural birth had turned into an emergency c-section. Visions of cuddling my newborn at home turned into daily visits to the NICU….

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Let the Children Come

Let the Children Come

There was a time when my boys were small that everything was either sticky or covered in dirt from the backyard. They were busy boys, always taking things apart. Food was permanently encrusted under their high chairs. It seemed as if some one was always throwing up or something was leaking out of a diaper. For quite a few years, I was permanently sleepy. Sometimes I felt like giving up. One thing kept me going: their love. They would come…

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