On Lorraine's Fourteenth Birthday

What is it like being your mom at age fourteen?

It’s finally having you on Facebook with me so that I can share funny Harry Potter memes and grammar jokes that only you and I appreciate.

It’s driving to Fort Wayne to see your White Creek friends, singing loudly about missing Mayberry, and marveling at the wide-open spaces, cornfields, cows, and trees. It’s breathing in deep to let the country fill my soul, and noticing you doing the same thing next to me while you roll down the window even though it’s winter.

It is car dancing shamelessly to rap songs we almost know, proud to be loud.  I notice you are watching me close to see if I’m going to sing the swear word that we both know is coming. (I did.)

It’s seeing you snuggle your brother in church, while I snuggle your other brother; it’s marveling at the cuteness of the baby baptized and nudging you to make sure you see it too, but you are already smiling with your hand on your heart, just like I am.

It’s relying on you for a hundred things, like getting everyone to school on time and making sure Marcus is wearing pants. It’s receiving texts like, “Can you talk to Seth?” “We’re out of bread.” “Peter won’t wear socks.” “Marcus won’t run his laps.” “Can we go to Khol's again?” and of course “Can I stay up and read?”

It’s forgetting how to “adult” in front of you, and spilling coffee on my robe, again, while you laugh at me. It’s almost running out of gas on the way home, and when the warning light comes on, you give me a “grandma Lorraine” look of reproof.

It’s dusting off old parts of my brain so I can help you with math homework, sending you to your father if I get stuck, and watching him rub his head and puzzle over functions until he finally conquers.

It’s hitting the volleyball back and forth 536 times until my arms are bright red and I am feeling my age just a tiny bit but I don’t let you see it and we high five and post it on Facebook.

It’s DJ'ing for your dance and trying to walk the line of having fun without embarrassing you too much, and it’s being glad you don’t care so much about those things. It’s the pressure of picking the next slow song knowing that you may or may not have the first slow dance of your life and trying not to watch as you do or don’t dance.

It’s hearing the noise of your irrational euphoria, the joy you have in being ALIVE that shoots from your fingertips into the piano, and it comes out of your mouth in song and wit and teasing your siblings all day long and late into the night.

It’s knowing our days together are growing short.  I might like to hold you close inside a blanket tent where we read books together for the next ten years, but it’s not camping season, it’s growing season, and you are growing and blooming faster than corn in an Indiana cornfield.

It’s accepting a rose from your hand on eighth grade night at your very last basketball game, and watching you smile and shine as you boldly face the next chapter in your life.

It's realizing that the teenage years aren't completely awful, they're exciting, too; and it's thanking God a million times for making me a mama to this girl who blooms so beautifully.

It’s terrifying, exciting, and lovely.

It brings me to my feet (to kitchen dance with you) and to my knees (to pray.)

Happy, blessed fourteenth year of life, my dear daughter.

Mom

Peter's six!

To Peter, on your sixth birthday-

Wow. What a year you’ve been through!  Last year at this time, our lives were still full of walks to the pond, and visits to the cows, and mornings with the Vandercars.  Last year at this time, I was sending you off to kindergarten, three days a week. I thought that was going to be our big adjustment!  And then God sent us a call, and before we knew it, we were packing up the house, taking you out of school at White Creek, and moving to the city!  A new school, new friends, new routines, new everything- that had to be so much for your five-year-old self to process!  

I remember you sobbed the hardest on that rainy day when we pulled away from the only home you had ever known.  You are an Indiana baby, a country boy!  We shared quite a few tears and snuggles along the way.  Like you, I was sad for many things we left behind, but it has been a joy to watch the ways God has provided for us.

In Eastpointe, I got to see you meet a whole new group of kindergarteners. You grew to love Mrs. Schilling, and Addison Skurda quickly became your new best friend.  You learned to rock every-day kindergarten, and before I knew it you were reading and even taking AR tests!  In the winter you played Pee Wee basketball, and I got to be your coach!   You even weigh slightly more than Eldon- something that causes you great joy and him great annoyance. You gloat, “I’m half a thing bigger to you Eldon!” and try get him to weigh himself daily so you can compare. He “hates the scale” and refuses to get on it now!  

In the spring we bought a boat.  You and I were both pretty unsettled by the size of the waves on the big lake. While the other kids hooted and hollered and cheered, you and I would be snuggling in the back, hoping we wouldn’t die, saying a prayer or two or ten.  Every time we went out on the boat and didn’t die, we became a tiny bit more confident, and by the end of the summer you and I were not only cheering on the big waves, but tubing behind the boat, and loving it!  And you amaze us with your super-napping powers- you can nap on the boat through the roughest seas!

Your birthday weekend will be full of family: Uncle Quinn and Aunt Sara are staying with us, Flannery in utero. Grammy and Bump brought the camper and your cousin Izzy and Lorraine’s friend Kathryn. You were so happy to get a  whoopie cusion and a Snack-eeze (star wars), tons of candy, and a Paw Patrol backpack. You are wearing it to first grade, where you are rockin’ the academics, and being chased by the girls at recess.  

The night before your birthday I snuggled you close and said, “Goodbye five, I will miss you.”

“I won’t miss five,” you said, and I was not surprised.

“I will, but I am excited to see you six.”

Goodnight, five, and welcome, six!  

We love you Peter!

goodnight, five.

Tonight, I said goodnight to five for the last time.

Tomorrow, my youngest boy turns six.

Goodnight, five, and goodbye five.

I curled up next to his pajama’d body and said a nice, long, goodnight and goodbye.

Goodnight, five,and goodbye to the days of

packing a blankie and buddy for rest time at school,

and learning to tie shoes.

Goodbye to the magical moment of I-can-read;

that miracle of letters on a page making sounds that magically form a familiar word!

Goodbye to the days of first backpack and first lunchbox and first play date with a school friend.

I rubbed his back and said goodbye to five, slowly, gently.

And the goodbye-fives turned into goodbye-everything-little as I thought about our preschool days and baby days.

Goodbye bringing babies home from hospitals,

and tiny new outfits, and milk-snuggles.

Goodbye teethers and days of dumping out toys and chewing on everything.

Goodbye strollers and baby-on-the-hip;

Goodbye afternoon naps with a baby plastered to my side;

Goodbye days spent in a blur of exhaustion and goodbye just trying to keep everybody alive.

Suddenly he whispered, “are you asleep mama?” and turned over to face me. “No, honey,” I said, “not yet.”

I’m too busy saying goodbyes.

Goodbye five, and less-than-five.

God help me embrace six, and more-than-six, too.  

I hid my tears and held him close.

He turned over again and let out a little fart.

He pulled his minion blanket up over his shoulder, made sure my arm was around his waist, and sighed.  He resigned to sleep, passing gently into the next stage of his life, fearless, and at peace.

Goodnight, five.

Important stuff to write when you don't have Important Stuff to Write

A guest post by Rebekah Curtis

I've read a number of books on writing, and somehow the one I liked least has one of the lessons that stuck with me most. The book is The Right To Write by Julia Cameron, and there isn't anything wrong with it, it's just not my style. But I thought the author had a useful perspective on publishing: who cares? If you like writing, write. Go out of your way to do it. 

I have been very blessed to have some of my writing published. But I have also written a whole bunch of things that have only been published on my home printer. Writing for your church is a low pressure way to contribute to the life of your congregation, and homes can also gain some great things from a writing family member.  Here are some of the ways I've gotten my write on in my regular life.

For church

1. Write a Christmas program. I stumbled into this because it was such a pain to try to fit our parish's kid-resources into a pre-fab program. It was easier to write around the kids we have than to try to makeshift and substitute. You can tailor to your congregation, both in terms of what they're able to do and which ideas they'll benefit from hearing more. Your pastor is your doctrinal reviewer; I always learn something from his comments and edits.

2. Write press releases or articles about things going on at your church for your local newspaper/media source.

3. If your church has a secretary, ask politely if she would like some of the church's stock letters updated. A lot of churches have been ker-chunking out the same cradle roll letter or fundraiser notification for the last 40 years, and sometimes they get a little mildewy. (But some are too funny to change, so use discretion. Our church's Dinner Auction letter is gold, and includes such formulations as: "Callers will be in contact to find out what your donation is by April 7. THIS DOES NOT MEAN YOU HAVE TO HAVE THE ITEM READY ON APRIL 7. NO!")

4. Write notes to shut-ins, college students, snowbirds, deployed members of the military or people in the congregation who are working away from home. Sometimes I think this sounds trite until somebody sends a note to me and I remember again how nice it is to get one. This also helps if you're an awkward person and better on paper than in conversation.

5. Write silly songs* for Rally Day, the church picnic, the last day of school or Sunday school, your pastor's ordination anniversary, and for something to do that isn't unloading the dishwasher. Add a ukulele, and you can live in a house of squalor and beautiful homemade music indefinitely.

For home

1. Use a dry erase maker to write very menacing notes about basic courtesies on the bathroom mirror.

2. Make memorable events in your life into a story or poem. If you're a lot less lazy than I am, you could even have it printed up at Walgreen's or something and make a historical document out of it. Make sure you pick something significant, like the time the kids caught a leech in a creek and you had to treat it like a cherished family pet for four days.

3. Write a Christmas letter people will like reading, or one you like writing.

4. More songs, more ukulele. I'm pretty sure if you write songs for kids, you don't have to do puzzles with them EVER.

5. Blogging, duh. Our kids love to gather round ye olde family blog and reminisce about the months of yore.

6. Write down the family stories from your grandmas and grandpas. Ask them to edit your drafts, and do your best to preserve their voice.

7. Teach the kids in your life to write. I love it that when my kids have writing assignments for any class, I feel like I am really able to help them think about and improve their work. Every grownup has to write sometimes, and the practices you show little writerlings along the way will shape them as writers in whatever writing work life gives them. Help a little poet with his meter; help a narrator never use the words "awesome" or "amazing"; help a reporter economize.

*There is also hymnwriting. I think it's best to wait to be asked for the use of one of your hymns so as to avoid becoming That Hymnwriter. There are several good hymns out there, so demand isn't huge, plus it's really hard to tell if your own hymn is good.

Writers gotta write. Who better to write for than the people you love most?

Rebekah Curtis and her sister Rose Adle are co-authors of LadyLike, a collection of essays from Concordia Publishing House.

Book link: 

https://www.cph.org/p-28440-ladylike-living-biblically.aspx

Social media:

https://www.facebook.com/LadyLikings

https://www.pinterest.com/ladylikings

http://ladylikings.blogspot.com/

To Aggie, on her eighth birthday

Like me, you are task-oriented. If there is something that needs to be done, you want to get it done quickly.  You do your homework immediately when you come home from school, no prodding or nagging required.  You do not like loose ends hanging. You do not seem able to rest until that list is checked-off.  Oh my dear, I know just how you feel.

My list is long these days, Aggie. I barrel through it all day, and again after supper.  So often you beg me to set is aside, but many times, I cannot. We have a big family and a busy life, and there is much work to be done.

But I try to set it aside, especially in the evening, for your sake and for mine.

You brought home another Magic Tree House book yesterday, and you just knew I would love it. We curled up in my bed with Jack and Annie and traveled with them to the Amazon Rainforest.  This time, you read to me. And reading, for you, is not like checking page after page off your list. You are not in a hurry to get to the end of the book. You read with excitement when the action moves quickly, but you linger to laugh and question and delight in the story whenever the mood strikes you. Reading is an adventure, and I love to share this nightly adventure with you.

I have to confess, when you read to me, I do not always listen to every word. Sometimes, I close my eyes and just let the sound of your voice wash over me. Your sweet voice navigates words with expertise, and you read with such emotion. I marvel at your brain and your heart, and how God has given you such growth.

God has made you a hard-worker, dear child, and you have so much to give and to do in this wide world. May God bless your busy hummingbird days, and may He also grant you many more days of adventure, both inside and outside of the wonderful world of books.

Aggie, I’m so glad God made me your mommy.

Happy birthday.

Love, Mom

Thank you, Father, for granting your daughter Aggie eight full years of life in this world. Thank you for her joy, her compassion, and her determination. Thank you for your care for her in both darkness and sunshine. Thank you for giving her safety in Your promises and Your constant care for her.  And Thank you, Father, for this moment of health and grace.  In Jesus’ name, Amen.

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Family-Focused Art: Birthday Letters

I love when I can be a writer and a mother at the very same time.  One of my favorite ways to do this:

Birthday Letters.

I am a terrible scrap-booker, but I love to use my words. 

I think only the first TWO of my children actually have baby books! I know that's terrible, but I have all the pictures... it's just a matter of gathering them. And cutting them. And pasting them. (Ugh.) Not going to happen any time soon, sorry kiddos.

I keep snapshots of their childhood for them in my own way. Pictures, of course, but also birthday letters.  When I write I try to capture the unique things about each child on that very day.  I often add favorite memories of the previous year, prayers, or major milestones. But I have to keep it simple (or I won't do it.) So I mostly just try to capture who they are on this day.

Art in times of Grief

Grief: Remembering Delia
A child given no medical hope was instead given love.

Her mother gave her life, what she was allowed of it, and she filled all of our hearts until they broke open.

Using Art to Bless Your Family

I love when the kids pick wild flowers from the yard and bring them in to me. They give me a gift, that cost them nothing other than the time to pick it, and they are thanked for it. And rightly so: they noticed the beauty around them, they gathered it, and they couldn’t help to share it with me.

In my imagination, I do something just like that when I write.

I see something beautiful or funny or important, I gather it up in words, and I share it with you. I love doing this thing, here on this blog, for my friends and for strangers.

It’s my hobby, my “other vocation,” my way of recharging and resting my mommy muscles for awhile. There is nothing wrong with this, but today, I am asking myself this question:

How can I use my art to serve my family?

And that’s one of those questions I ask myself and the ideas flood and I think I need to write for days just to get them all stamped down on the page before I get distracted with something else!

I won’t do that, but I will start a blog series so that I think on these things with you once a week. I am dedicating fridays to family-focused art. I’ll be dusting off the writing assignment the girls gave me (Sara and Clara) and I’ll be blogging about using creative energies in the home.

I’ll try my hand at children’s stories, and I’ll show you some of them, too. (Come back tomorrow!) I’d appreciate your thoughtful feedback. If you’d like to use them for experimenting on your own children, I’d love to hear what they think as well. These little people in my house are great story-testers, but I’m not sure they would tell me if my story was boring.

I would love to hear from you as well: how do you use your art to bless your family? Do you write to record memories? Do you garden, scrapbook, bake, craft, sew, or host parties? (Link up and guest posting opportunities coming soon!)

Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of service, but the same Lord;  and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who empowers them all in everyone. To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.

1 Corinthians 12:4-7

Gilead: Book: Recommended and Project: Inspired

Book, recommended.

I read this during vacation.  It is a great book for savoring, a beautifully written story told from the perspective of an old pastor preparing to die, writing a letter to his very young son.  If you are looking for a thoughtful piece of fiction to read, try this one.

A small piece: 

“I wish I could leave you certain images in my mind, because they are so beautiful that I hate to think they will be extinguished when I am. …It is a strange thing, after all, to be able to return to a moment, when it can hardly be said to have any reality at all, even in its passing.  A moment is such a slight thing, I mean, that its abiding is a most gracious reprieve.” p.162

Project, inspired

I am captivated by the premise of this book: An old father, gathering moments for his son so that when he is gone, he can see the world through his father's eyes and know that he was loved.


Moments come and go so quickly, so few are caught and treasured.
Which are most precious? Most important?
Sometimes I see every-day moments that are breath-taking and spectacular.  I want to store them up and show them to my children, later, when they are old enough to understand.

I have started a journal for this purpose.
I call it "My Gilead," and it is addressed to all of my children (in contrast to the birthday letters which are individualized.)  There are no rules. No schedules. I write in it whenever the mood strikes me.

The click of a camera and the chatter of the keyboard: these are the sounds of me gathering treasures for my children.

May the pictures and words I save up for them help them to see the grace I see, and re-rejoice.