Protected: In another universe

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The Passenger Seat

I don’t know what happens that causes us to stop sharing the sweet spots of parenting with others beyond the baby years. Maybe occasionally, we hear songs of praise for the years right before tweenhood; that often-calm time before a storm of new hormones and insecurities.

We are doing one another a disservice. There are so many sweet spots beyond that point- really and truly.

Like when they are allowed to graduate to the front passenger seat.

You know, beside you.  Continue reading

The Lies I’ve Been Told.

My mind wanders when I drive. Today it landed on the realization that it’s already May, which lead to thinking about what we’d be doing at this time had we homeschooled this year, which lead to thinking about the fact that come fall, all of my babies will be in school. Which lead to…now what? Which lead to remembering how much I loved teaching pre-k; lining those papers up every morning, replacing the broken crayons, all in anticipation of those sweet babies busting through the door. Another thought broke in: hmm, that sounds an awful lot like a routine. But you don’t like routines. Or order. Oh right, I don’t. But I did, so….don’t I? Again, my mind was lead another way: the things we accept about ourselves, according to others. Sure, sometimes I despise routine, but not ALL the time. What else had I accepted? Turns out, a lot. Continue reading

A note to readers

Hi, friends. You may notice the blog looks a little different…or at least that it’s missing quite a few posts that were previously visible. As my kiddos grow, their needs change, and I have to be both considerate and protective of those needs.

If you were sent here specifically looking for the kinds of posts that have now been set to private, feel free to shoot me an email and we can talk. I don’t want anyone to feel as though they’re in this parenthood business alone, and I’m happy to have a conversation, but moving forward, that will be done in a slightly different way.

Thank you all a bunch for all the love and support you’ve given this little writing space of mine, it means more than you know.

Lindsay

Star of Wonder

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Despite what a strange year it’s been, Christmas always makes me feel hopeful. It’s the promise of something that has been, something that is,  and something that is yet to come.

I always think of the Christmas story. That one bright, shining star. That star was hope.

Do you know what stars are made of?

Hydrogen and helium. The two lightest elements.

Do you know what stars do? They burn. Stars shine because they burn.

I’m not one to think God and science are at odds. That star, “thy perfect light,” isn’t a coincidence, and that star wasn’t just meant to be a pretty light or the cherry on top of a tree.

Hope is sometimes levity. It lifts us up when gravity is a lot. It cups our chin in its hand and tilts our faces towards the sky, pointing us back to wonder; bringing us home.

Hope sometimes burns. It creates an ache, a longing for things to be set right, and those feeling reminds us, despite our protests to the contrary, that we haven’t given up after all. Not even a little.

A star wouldn’t be its brilliant self if it weren’t burning. Hope wouldn’t be hope without that slight ache, the breathlessness of running towards something still out ahead of us.

Something, no- someone, that was, and is, and is still to come.

Over the past few years, my lofty ideals about peace, love, and hope have been turned on their heads. Peace can be disruptive, love hurts sometimes, and hope, for all its lifting, can burn. Jesus knew. He knew all of it, and he came for us anyway. For peace, for love, for hope. For us and our messy lives.

 

Merry Christmas, friends. Whatever feels hollow, whatever seems too cold and too gray this season, may it be filled with the brightest light, and white-hot hope.