Real Life Reflections

When our oldest child celebrated her tenth birthday (over eighteen years ago - ugh!), it hit me like a pie in the face: more than half of her years with us were now in the past. That realization formed a new resolve in me. "No regrets" was my new motto of motherhood. I determined that when her adult years came, albeit way too soon, I would be able to look back and say with utter confidence that I did absolutely everything I knew to do in the best way I knew how to do it and with all my heart and strength. That's also when I began to pray for the man she would some day marry (and the woman our son would some day wed). It was a simple prayer. I prayed for the two most important things to be found in a spouse: that the man Ami would marry love God and love Ami. Nothing else really matters, although I have to say that we got much more than that in our son-in-law (and our daughter-in-law). In many ways, he reminds me of my own husband: he has a tender heart, he values honest...

Last week I went on an adventure. Typically one would not describe their attendance at a wedding as such, but when one travels via plane to attend said wedding with a (almost) twenty-month old, an adventure is exactly what it is. It was altogether stressful and wonderful by turns. My grand daughter is at that stage where everything is new, and she wants to know the name for it - and then talk about it for the next half hour. One such moment came as we looked out the window of the airplane. We saw the beautiful, crisp blue sky ("bwoo sky"). Twenty minutes later as I tried to distract her from the fact that we couldn't let her get down ("DOOOWWWNNN"), the blue sky was gone. All we could see were clouds. I told her the blue sky was hiding behind the clouds. For the next half hour, intermittently, she told her Momma or me by turns, "bwoo sky . . . hide" and bobbed her head up and down in ferocious agreement with her statement. I'm sure no one can ...

I recently began to read One Thousand Gifts - A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are by Ann Voskamp. I picked it up, not because of the title, but because so many people had recommended it - highly. I'm not sure what I expected, but it's all that and then some. I have to admit that her writing style is difficult for me. I have to weed through her poetic prose to grasp the jewels of truth, but there are jewels sprinkled throughout every page, and it is well worth my efforts. I'm not writing a book review this morning, but I mention this book because it is the reading of it that has planted a new cry in my heart: I want to see.   I came home from the office frustrated yesterday. I'd spent two days working on one problem. It felt like trudging through cement. I changed clothes and immediately went to walk out my frustrations. I prayed, "Lord, I want to see. I want to see You in this." Albert Einstein's words sprang to mind, "It's not that ...

I stepped into their living room. I'd only be there for a minute as this was just a stop to pick up my daughter on our way to another destination. She held my grandson as she opened the door, and I saw no one else in the room. I talked to him, baby talk, a silly, high-pitched voice reserved only for those who have yet to celebrate their first birthday. He gave me one of his lady-killer smiles. Just then his daddy walked into the room and said, "aren't you going to say hi to Grammy?" Now, my grandson is, of course, advanced for his age (he's a two-fisted carrot-eater among countless other talents), but to say, "hi, Grammy" at six months is beyond even him. I followed my son-in-law's gaze and found that there was someone else in the room. She stood there quietly - in the corner by her toys and books. I hadn't seen her, but she had seen me. She was watching and waiting patiently for me to notice her. I hunkered down and squealed in delight. She wa...

It's no secret among my co-workers that because of additional tasks and responsibilities with absolute deadlines, January usually brings me to the brink of sanity. Once or twice I've teetered precariously. This January was different. I kept God ever before me. I kept myself consciously and proactively aware of Him (see my January 25 post for details). Then February came, and before I knew it, I felt like I'd been knocked flat. I was down for the count in a boxing match that I hadn't even known I was in. My opponent brought his punches in hard and fast. There I sat, dazed, reeling, wondering what just happened. I tried to shake my head clear. I tried to remember what it was that had gotten me through January. Nothing came to me.My mind was blank . . . . . . Until this past Saturday. I'm related (by marriage) to the author of the Cuppa Joe Bible Minute . Writing a blog isn't Jenni's only gift, she also teaches Bible studies and at women's retreats. Ev...

We all have bad days, right? You're sick or running late or you have an accident or a flat tire (or maybe all of the above and then some?). Sometimes a bad day is as simple as getting bad news - news that doesn't stop with just the saying of it, the fact of it. Bad news that isn't just a statement but news that reaches into the heart and changes the scenery, colors the way you see things, makes you look into the future and see that your life will look different from here on out because of it. News that catches you by surprise and changes what you thought would always be, changes the status quo of your life. I got news like that recently. Then a few days later, I received a totally unrelated phone call the purpose of which was to rake me over the coals, make sure I knew how badly I'd screwed up. A few days after that, I got a letter from the IRS informing me that the organization for which I work and am responsible for much of the accounting and human resource complian...

Life is teeming with reminders of our need for God. Take today for example: I'm exhausted. I have this ridiculously sensitive body rhythm, and I messed it up yesterday. I went to St. Louis with a mother and daughter. The daughter is strongly considering an extended stay in Burkina Faso as a missionary. So the mother/daughter team that have been there/done that spent the day with the mother/daughter team in the early stages of going there/doing that. It was a great time. Ami and I both enjoyed sharing our experiences, and by their own admission, the time was profitable for the other mother and daughter; but for me, to talk for a full eight hours is waaaayyy past my conversation limit. "Conversation limit?" Yep. Conversation limit. A previous boss used to cite some statistic about how many words an average woman speaks each day as compared to the average man. He'd see me talking and joke that I hadn't reached my quota for the day. My quota, however, is much lower ...