“I am so very sorry for your loss,” the woman told me. “I wish there were something I could do.”
I stood there in stunned silence, holding my phone in one hand and my four-year-old’s sticky paw in the other, attempting to process what she saying.
Can’t get them back.
At this point in my story, you may be wondering who died. Thankfully, all the Renshaws are, to my knowledge, alive and kicking …
… Read the rest here
It’s been quite different having only one small child tagging along with me this past schoolyear. Young Sir K has been my shadow, my sidekick, and my adventure buddy. We’ve spent countless hours running errands, reading aloud, chatting about Legos and Paw Patrol and bugs. Simply enjoying each another’s presence has been so refreshing as I work on embracing a more measured pace of life.
I’ve found that, during this time of less doing and more being, God speaks to my heart in ways I couldn’t hear amidst the cacophany of constant noise and motion.
For example, something interesting happened during a routine trek to the grocery store the other day that compelled me to ponder perception, reality, and waiting on the LORD.
Small red basket overflowing, Sir K and I headed toward the check-out lanes. Since the self-serve stations were occupied, we high-tailed to the nearest open lane. What a blessing! I thought. There’s no one else in line! I figured we’d be out of there in no time flat.
Read the rest here.
photo credit: Josh Boot with permission via unsplash
Being a parent is a bizarre and tremendous thing. All of a sudden, you’re expected to be completely responsible for someone you’ve just met, who has all manner of needs that you’ve never supplied before, and has various personality traits and proclivities that surely don’t come from your side of the gene pool.
But necessity is a mother. I am a mother because my children were conceived. And I had to figure out how to be a mother because, all of a sudden, I was one.
It’s inconceivable how small beings so thoroughly inexperienced and utterly helpless can somehow reduce grown-ups to puddles incapable of rational thought, but they can. And do. At least, they do in my house. Regularly.
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photo credit: Jordan Whitt
As noted 20th-century philosopher Ferris Bueller remarked, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”
When I was younger, I couldn’t wait to be older. My Mom would say, “Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up, Heather. Enjoy where you are now.” Despite her sage advice, I was never content being whatever age I happened to be.
To my naive mind, if I could just be 5, or 9, or 18 — I could go to school with the big kids, or stay up later to finish that compelling novel or eat cake for dinner because I was old enough to make my own choices.
I guess you’d say I wasn’t a “bloom where you’re planted” sort of youngster. If I had a dollar for every time I said or thought “I’m bored,” in my youth ….
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Photo credit: Mauro Mora // unsplash
This summer has whizzed – and I mean WHIZZED by. Admittedly, this is mostly my fault. The time and space has been filled with lots of busyness and activity and not quite as much rest and relaxation as this Mama would like; however, time marches on, and the beginning of the new school year is staring us square in the face.
It is in the back-to-school spirit that I penned the following letter to the four (FOUR!) of my kiddos who will be in full-time school this Fall. You can read my Mea Maxima Cuppa column in its entirety here.
God bless y’all,
Photo Credit: Green Chameleon in Bristol, UK via Upsplash