Showing all posts by Julie Reyburn

Spoiler alert: I have no idea how to parent a perfectionist. I’m figuring it out though, however slowly. Maybe you and I can compare notes if you’ve got a perfectionist too.

My 10-year-old daughter Lily doesn’t like to make mistakes. She bristles anytime we correct her. Her feelings are easily hurt. This is what my grandparents would call “ payin’ for my raisin’ ” because I’m pretty sure I was the same at her age. I don’t recall being quite as sensitive as Lily is but I remember well my daddy telling me more than once that I shouldn’t wear my heart on my sleeve.

For all the frustration I feel about Lily’s pursuit of perfection, there is a perk. Her teachers describe her as a dream student. She is obedient and helpful. She is smart. Very smart. Words come especially easy to her.

When Lily was in the 2^nd grade she read the Harry Potter book series – all seven of them! – in only six months. In the 3^rd grade she participated in the school Spelling Bee and won, out-spelling a 5^th grader for the title and trophy. She finished runner-up in the countywide competition that year, vying against students twice her age. In 4^th grade Lily excelled again and won the school Spelling Bee for the second year in a row.

A delicate tension developed in our home when Lily advanced to the Spelling Bee finals in 5^th grade. I tempered my confidence that she was capable of winning a third time with reassurance that it would be OK if she lost.

Lily prepared for the Bee with the same determination she had shown the previous two years. We began practicing the 450 likely words as soon as she brought the list home. She studied for hours. Days. We worked our system. As usual, we highlighted in pink the words she knew, placed a dot beside the ones she spelled correctly but tentatively, and penciled a check mark next to the ones she didn’t know.

When she got down to the last 30 or so words to learn, she copied them onto index cards and practiced. She wrote them this year while I was at work and as soon as I got home we honed in on her stack.

The day of the Bee Lily was doing so well. Jeff and I watched online from home because COVID concerns prevented parents from attending in person. Lily had advanced to the top 4 when she was called on to spell the word “emitting.” She had practiced this word! It was an index card! I held my breath as she spelled: “e-m-m-i-t-t-i-n-g.”

I cheered! But the moderator said, “No.”

Shocked, I frantically pulled the practice sheet from the opposite end of our kitchen table. Jeff grabbed the index cards Lily had written to study. We compared the two and realized the worst: Lily had copied the word incorrectly on her index card. She had studied the wrong spelling.

I watched, helpless, as Lily sat down confused and crushed. I grabbed my phone to text one of her teachers who I knew was watching at school. I hoped she could intercept Lily and explain what had happened. A few moments later my phone rang. Her teacher asked if I could come to the school.

Lily was sitting in the lobby when I arrived, holding a cupcake, a participation certificate and (barely) her tears. When she saw me she couldn’t keep them any longer. The principal kindly offered us the privacy of an empty conference room. Lily was inconsolable.

I was marginally better but only because I knew something she didn’t.

About two weeks before the Spelling Bee, I became acutely aware of Lily’s persistence for perfection. Realizing her habit of being hard on herself, I began to pray, “God, teach her to give herself grace.” I knew beyond any doubt this Spelling Bee loss was an answer to that prayer. How could it not be? Of all the words she practiced – and she practiced ALL of them – she was called on to spell the one word she had written down wrong.

I may never recover. 

Lily wanted to win so badly. I wanted it for her. That’s why I believe God is going to use this experience in a truly formative way in Lily’s life. It will shape her in ways we can’t yet see, and I know one day she will look back on it as a defining moment of her character and grit.

Most days I still don’t know exactly how to parent my perfectionist. But our Spelling Bee disappointment has taught me two ways we can honor the way God knit together our “perfect” children while leading them to live gracefully with their flaws.

1) Be patient. My instinct when Lily was criticizing herself after the Spelling Bee was to interrupt her with promises that her negative thoughts were not true. But in her mind at that moment, those things were true. I would have wasted time and breath trying to convince her otherwise.

When our children feel like they are not good enough the better thing we can do is listen and empathize. This is what our conversation sounded like in the school conference room:

Lily: I always double check everything!
Me: I know you do. You try really hard to get things right.
Lily: Everyone thought I was going to win!
Me: I know it feels that way. You are a great speller!
Lily: I’m a failure!
Me: It’s hard to lose. You didn’t win today but you are not a failure.

I tell my girls “It’s OK to feel however you feel. It’s not always OK to act on those feelings.” We can validate our child’s emotions then teach them how to work through their feelings in a healthy way. 

2) Pray. Clearly, prayer works. I believe with my full being that Lily’s Spelling Bee loss was an answer to my prayer. It was an opportunity to give herself grace and to be proud of herself in spite of losing.

Would I have preferred God not answer my prayer on such a grand stage? Of course. But where it happened was also a gift. Lily learned this hard lesson in a soft place, among people who know her, love her and care for her with compassion.

Prayer is not a one-and-done solution. Our perfectionists are works in progress, even if they don’t want to admit it. I will continue praying that Lily will give herself grace and that I will model that maturity for her.

It’s a special thing to watch your child step into their giftedness and see their confidence soar. Lily’s Spelling Bee successes gave her the courage to pursue other hard things. She earned a spot on the Scholars Bowl team in 4^th and 5^th grades and was named a news anchor for her student newscast in 5^th grade.

On the way home from Scholars Bowl practice last Monday Lily said, “Mrs. McConnell told us our team should get all the spelling questions right because we have Ava who won the Spelling Bee this year and Paxton who was runner-up and I was the winner for two years in a row.” I’m so proud she can appreciate accomplishments she has earned and celebrate her friends’ triumphs without any prompting from me. (Even as I consoled Lily after the Spelling Bee she smiled through her tears when I told her Ava had won. “She’s my friend,” she said.)

There are three things I say to my girls almost every day. One of them is “I’m proud of you.” Sometimes I follow that assurance by asking them, “Why do you think I’m proud of you?” They’ve learned my answer is always the same: “Because you’re mine.” They need to know they are enough regardless of accolades or achievement.

I want Lily to live her life trying. I don’t want her to spend her life striving. The difference can be a fine line. With patience and prayer, my little perfectionist and I will walk that line together.

“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’”

(2 Corinthians 12:9)

“Lights please” is one of my very favorite lines in any Christmas TV show. Linus, clutching his signature blue blanket, has stepped into the spotlight, ready to recite the most beautiful birth announcement known.

“And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night…”

Whether from Sunday School or “A Charlie Brown Christmas” we know the story. We have heard or read about the role of the shepherds in the narrative of Jesus’ birth.

I know the Bible verses well. Dressed in a black skirt, a white button-down and a red ribbon tied beneath my shirt collar, I shared the story from Luke 2 as a 10-year-old in the Christmas program at Bayview Baptist Church. I didn’t have a blue blanket like Linus carried but I held tight to the microphone as I recited the words I’d worked so hard to memorize.

The shepherds are a staple in the Christmas story. My daughter Lily, coincidentally also 10-years-old, portrayed one for the children’s choir performance at our church last Sunday. She told me about her shepherd’s costume on the way to school a few days prior.

“The shepherds are probably my favorite people in the Christmas story,” I told her. “Do you know why?”

“Because they take care of their sheep and you take care of us,” she said.

My heart melted. That’s part of it but there’s more.

Two years ago, I found notes my daddy had written for a Bible study on Luke 2. His words helped me see the shepherds in a new way. The detail in their story has encouraged me, especially as a mom, in three ways.

1) The shepherds were working, even while others slept.

I like to be awake late at night (though I would like it more if I didn’t have to wake up early in the morning!) I come alive when the world is quiet and my flock is settled. While Jeff and our girls fall asleep, I abide and keep watch. Most nights that means folding laundry, packing lunches or signing school papers. There never seems to be time for those tasks during the day. The work can be tiresome and lonely, and I can’t help but wonder if the shepherds felt the same way. Still, they were faithful. Here’s what my daddy observed about verse 8:

The key word is abiding. The shepherds were doing what they were supposed to be doing. They were not sleeping, loafing or indulging in the world. God didn’t have to alert them. They were abiding and watching, and the angels brought them “good news of great joy.”

Read daddy’s words again and be encouraged! The Lord honors faithfulness to your work. When everyone else is sleeping, He sees you. When you’re abiding and watching, He can speak to you just as He sent an angel to speak to the shepherds.

2) The shepherds work was considered ordinary.

To call the shepherds’ work ordinary is probably paying them compliment. Read this excerpt from an article by Randy Alcorn:

            “In Christ’s day, shepherds stood on the bottom rung of the Palestinian social ladder. They shared the same unenviable status as tax collectors and dung sweepers. Only Luke mentions them.”  (You can read Alcorn’s full writing about shepherds here.)

Dung sweeper feels close for comfort if you’re a mom, doesn’t it? I know I’ve been there! God sent a message when he sent THE message to the shepherds: He values people society doesn’t believe worthy. Daddy’s notes shared this idea from the Matthew Henry commentary:

“We are not out of the way of Divine visits when we are sensibly employed in an honest calling while abiding with God.”

Sensible and honest. Simple and ordinary. God found the shepherds worthy to hear, hold and hasten the news of our Savior’s birth. God meets people in the mundane. He appears in the ordinary. Sounds a lot like motherhood to me.

3. The shepherds were obedient.

Call their work ordinary if you will but you cannot deny the shepherds’ obedience was extraordinary. They couldn’t wait to see what the angel had told them. The scriptures say the shepherds “came with haste” (KJV) “hurried off” (NIV) or “left, running” (MSG). That’s what our obedience to the Lord is supposed to look like. Immediate. Enthusiastic.

Think about what the shepherds would have missed if they were too tired or too busy to check out what the angel said. Now consider what you might miss by putting off what God has asked you to do.

The next note from my daddy isn’t part of his lesson on Luke 2; it’s written in a card he mailed to me at the end of my freshman year of college. But the message reminds me of the shepherds and their impact.

“God is putting you in places to be a witness for Him. Don’t let the honor go to your head but be humble in your heart that He has blessed you.“

God grants us extraordinary experiences when we are faithful with ordinary things. The shepherds had the privilege to bear witness to Jesus’ birth and then to share that good news with the world. You have a calling, too. Whatever your field looks like, you can be confident that God has equipped you. The next time you feel tired, ordinary or uncertain, remember the shepherds and follow God with faith.

“And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,“Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child,and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them.”

(Luke 2: 8-18)

I pitched the pile of laundry from my arms onto the orange chair in the corner of our living room.  An array of socks tumbled to the floor, probably without their matches. I started to dig through layers of kid clothes, frantic for a pair of panties. Abby Kate was in the shower. I promised her I would bring them as soon as I emptied the dryer. But I couldn’t find any.

Frustrated, I shouted to no one in particular, “How does she not have any clean panties?!”

From the corner of my eye, I could see dirty dishes stacked beside the kitchen sink, waiting to be washed. Behind me, more clothes (clean, but no panties) rested on the back of the couch (folded at least) ready to be put away. Who even knows how long they’d been there? The 360-degree view of our downstairs living space reflected a disaster zone, and I felt the worst thing a mom can feel.

Not good enough.

Have you been there?
Are you there now?

My friend Michele has a remedy for our “not enough” moments. It has helped me deflect self-doubt and is a valuable parenting tool when my kids run low on confidence. Michele says this:

“Ask yourself ‘What does God say about me?’”

Determined to make sense of this ugly motherhood moment, I turned to Proverbs 31 and the “portrait of a virtuous woman.” Traditional translations are beautifully poetic as they illustrate a woman who honors God in the ways she cares for her family and home.

“She riseth also while it is yet night, and giveth food to her household… she layeth her hands to the spindle, and her hands hold the distaff… Strength and honor are her clothing, and she will rejoice in time to come…” (Proverbs 17, 19, 25 King James version)

Curious, and grasping for inspiration in more relatable language, I pulled The Message translation. It is not my first-choice scripture, but I appreciate some of its contemporary interpretations.

“First thing in the morning, she dresses for work, rolls up her sleeves, eager to get started. She senses the worth of her work, is in no hurry to call it quits for the day. She is… diligent in homemaking… She always faces tomorrow with a smile…” (Proverbs 31: 17-19, 25 The Message)

The King James version I have, a Bible that belonged to my daddy, is written in a way that I am struck by each task the woman undertakes: waking, cooking, sewing. The Message reading puts me in awe of her attitude: eager, diligent, cheerful.

If we made a list of all the things the Proverbs 31 wife takes on in a day, and beside it scribbled our own to-dos, they would look remarkably similar. Feeding our families, providing them clothes (gosh, kids grow fast!), working, volunteering. It’s a lot, and overwhelm can make us grumpy in a hurry. So, what can we do about it?

Like my friend Michele, I offer one question for you to consider: What do your kids need today?

You could answer a lot of ways and I guarantee the list would be too long because there is just one thing our kids need from us. Only one. And that is our time.

Our time can take on a lot of different looks depending on what our kids need in the moment. In Abby Kate’s case, it was clean clothes. So, I spent the next two hours of my time washing loads of laundry.

Do your children need dinner that isn’t served at a drive-thru window? Your time will look like a homemade family meal.

Do your children need to escape the pressure of studying and good grades? Your time can look like playing video games with them.

Do your children need space to connect with their friends? Your time may look like driving them to the movies or the mall.

Sometime during Jeff’s overseas deployment two years ago I began laying down with Lily each morning before school. I don’t remember if she asked me to or if I sensed she needed the assurance that I was close since Jeff was so far away. I still start her day that way, cuddled beneath the covers as she slowly wakes up. There are a lot of things I could do in those 30 minutes. But what Lily needs is to know I am nearby no matter what her day holds. And if my time looks like rest and sleep, I’ll gladly accept it!

What do your kids need from you today? Prioritize the one thing they need most and pursue that. Let anything else wait.

Your children aren’t going to remember the chores you chased every day. But they will carry with them the enthusiasm you showed to wake them each morning, the warmth you gave when you tucked them in at night, and the love you expressed in between.

They’ll remember the thing that mattered most to them. And that is your time, whatever it may look like.

P.S. I thought you may be encouraged as I was to read The Message translation of Proverbs 31. May it inspire you to spend your time well and with joy.

Hymn to a Good Wife
The Message
Proverbs 31: 10-31

A good woman is hard to find,
    and worth far more than diamonds.
Her husband trusts her without reserve,
    and never has reason to regret it.
Never spiteful, she treats him generously
    all her life long.
She shops around for the best yarns and cottons,
    and enjoys knitting and sewing.
She’s like a trading ship that sails to faraway places
    and brings back exotic surprises.
She’s up before dawn, preparing breakfast
    for her family and organizing her day.
She looks over a field and buys it,
    then, with money she’s put aside, plants a garden.
First thing in the morning, she dresses for work,
    rolls up her sleeves, eager to get started.
She senses the worth of her work,
    is in no hurry to call it quits for the day.
She’s skilled in the crafts of home and hearth,
    diligent in homemaking.
She’s quick to assist anyone in need,
    reaches out to help the poor.
She doesn’t worry about her family when it snows;
    their winter clothes are all mended and ready to wear.
She makes her own clothing,
    and dresses in colorful linens and silks.
Her husband is greatly respected
    when he deliberates with the city fathers.
She designs gowns and sells them,
    brings the sweaters she knits to the dress shops.
Her clothes are well-made and elegant,
    and she always faces tomorrow with a smile.
When she speaks she has something worthwhile to say,
    and she always says it kindly.
She keeps an eye on everyone in her household,
    and keeps them all busy and productive.
Her children respect and bless her;
    her husband joins in with words of praise:
“Many women have done wonderful things,
    but you’ve outclassed them all!”
Charm can mislead and beauty soon fades.
    The woman to be admired and praised
    is the woman who lives in the Fear-of-God.
Give her everything she deserves!
    Adorn her life with praises!

I hurried through a conversation at church this summer as someone shared information about a lunch outing for the pre-teen Sunday School class. Abby Kate was promoting to the youth group, so I dismissed the details as irrelevant for our family. It wasn’t until Lily tapped my arm that I realized I really did need to know.

“I’m going in the 5^th grade Mom,” she said. “I’m a pre-teen.”

There’s a picture on the wall in Lily’s room, one that hung many years in my own bedroom. It was a gift to my mom when I was born.

“Cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
For babies grow up we’ve learned to our sorrow
So quiet down cobwebs, dust go to sleep
I’m rocking my baby, and babies don’t keep.”

Surprise. My baby didn’t keep.

One of the most memorable things I’ve ever read about parenting is written by Paul Reiser in his book titled “Familyhood”:

“Whatever I may feel about time, it’s going ahead.”

The clock ticks regardless of our readiness, but we do have control over what we do with our minutes, days, and years.

I am excited to share a 5 day devotional I’ve written that I hope will inspire you to make your days matter. “5 Words to Create Your Legacy through Everyday Life” is available when you subscribe to my website. (Look for the “subscribe” button to the left of this post on your computer; scroll to the bottom on your cell phone.) The devotional includes funny stories about my girls, a few reflections from my childhood, and Biblical truths to encourage you as you parent with intention and affection.

The Bible tells us in Psalm 127:3 “Children are a gift from the Lord; they are a reward from him.”

May the way we raise our children be our gift back to Him.

Lily’s Acro class will not be the same tonight, or maybe ever. We learned Saturday evening her instructor, Coach Jam, passed away unexpectedly. He was 32 years old.

We did not know Coach Jam very well or for very long. Lily enrolled in Acro class last summer and hadn’t quite reached the one-year mark under his direction. Conversation was limited because COVID required Coach Jam to wear a mask (and parents, too) but his smile and kindness were evident in his eyes and his spirit.

Lily’s last lesson with Coach Jam was one of her favorite classes. I could hear him compliment her effort and cheer her progress from my seat in the bleachers. When the hour was up, Lily rushed to me and proudly declared, “I won the handstand contest!” Handstands are not her strength, so this moment made an impact on her. I hope Coach Jam’s affirmation lingers within Lily for a long time.

Coincidentally, or maybe not, our dinnertime devotion Saturday was on legacy. My family is reading through a book titled “Disney Devotionals.” It’s a fun twist on Bible study. The chapter we shared just hours after we heard about Coach Jam’s death centered on the “Leave a Legacy” feature at the entrance to Epcot.

Author Albert Thweatt writes:

            “A legacy is what people remember you by. It’s the impression you leave behind on others. What is your legacy? Nobody wants to think about this, but what if you left this Earth today? How would you be remembered? What would your legacy be?” (Disney Devotionals, Theme Park Press, Copyright 2019)

No one would have predicted Coach Jam, in his youth and tremendous physical shape, would die mere days after his 32^nd birthday. Neither could I understand a sentence of Alzheimer’s Disease for my daddy when he was only 52 years old. Death and diagnoses are unpredictable and largely out of our control.  Life, however, is ours to shape.

I have read on Facebook some beautiful words of tribute to Coach Jam: a light, a talent, a gift. The eulogy at my daddy’s funeral, delivered by his pastor, epitomized daddy’s wit, faith and prayer life. These characteristics of Coach Jam and my daddy weren’t realized as a result of their deaths. They were accomplished through their lives. 

Our legacy is not decided when we die, but while we live.

Thoughts of life and legacy loomed close for a couple of days last week after I received a phone call that my mammogram on Monday had come back questionable. The radiologist needed additional images due to “an area of concern.” I found myself the next three days looking at my daughters more often and holding their hugs a while longer. I was relieved to tell my family Thursday that my second mammogram and an ultrasound “to be sure” revealed my health is fine. That clear scan is not a guarantee I will always will be OK.

A Bible verse in the Psalms reminds us we are not going to live on this Earth forever. Moses wrote, “So teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” (Psalm 90:12) It is wise for us to acknowledge we have a finite amount of time to leave our unique mark on the world, and prudent for us to consider what our lasting influence will be.

It’s tricky business sometimes. Legacy can be a slippery slope into a strive for acceptance and accolades. When we pursue approval from an audience, unless that audience is Jesus, we’re building celebrity for ourselves, not legacy. Our legacy should not be about us at all, really. Coach Jam committed to help his students hone their potential as athletes. My daddy taught me to love and live for Jesus. Neither of them set a stage to stand in the spotlight alone. Legacy pursues love, service, and impact for the people around us.

Lily’s Acro class will not be the same tonight. I’ll hold her hand through the curiosity of a new coach and in the uncertainty of life itself. She’ll feel safe with me beside her. That’s my privilege as her mom and a piece of the legacy I want to create.

What will your legacy be? I hope you will take time to consider thoughtfully and intentionally how you want to be remembered. You get to choose. All of us get to choose. Not on the day that we die, but on all the days that we live.

“So teach us to number our days, that we may get a heart of wisdom.”

(Psalm 90:12)

*Note: this writing is a follow-up to my previous post about worry. It may be helpful to first read “Don’t Worry.”

God doesn’t always work mysteriously. Sometimes we can tell exactly the way he wants to grow our faith. I found myself wrestling worry the very day after I offered my thoughts here on what we can do about it.

Abby Kate climbed in the car that Tuesday, hurt and frustrated. Two kids in her STEAM class were mocking her. What’s worse, one of them was a girl Abby Kate had shown kindness to when the girl was a new kid at school.

Since there were only 4 days left in the school year, I sought the simplest solution. With Abby Kate’s permission, I emailed her STEAM teacher and asked that she move Abby Kate away from the mean kids.

(Let someone help you.)

Still, by bedtime Abby Kate’s emotions had escalated to worry. Her prayer notes from a virtual GA (Girls in Action) meeting earlier that evening read:

“Please help me to not be bullied…”

After I tucked her in, we talked to God. We asked Him to soften the hearts of her classmates so they would be kind and we asked Him to give Abby Kate courage.

(Pray.)

The teacher followed through Wednesday in separating the students but on Thursday the two returned to their usual seats. Their hearts were still hard as they continued to tease.

“Just one more day,” I said reassuringly to Abby Kate on our way home after school.

Friday offered promise in that Abby Kate would not have STEAM class because of a schoolwide awards ceremony. The hitch in my hope was that the early part of the day included outdoor free time. I wondered if the kids would hunt for her so they could continue to taunt.

I wondered…

Wonder is a precursor to worry, isn’t it?  Our minds create all sorts of scenarios as we sort through “what if.” Trying to predict what will happen is a waste. Our time is better spent looking back on what has already been because when we reflect, we can trace God’s faithfulness. My reflection happened over breakfast with a friend.

Abby Kate’s Kindergarten teacher was recovering from shoulder surgery but felt well enough to leave her house, so we met for a meal. I confided almost immediately my “wonder” about Abby Kate’s last day of school. Through casual conversation my reflection began to take shape, and without even realizing it I named a half-dozen moments in Abby Kate’s Kindergarten year alone that could only have been orchestrated by God.

So, let’s add this to our list:

4) Focus on God’s Faithfulness.  Name the ways God has shown up for you before. Make a literal list if you must. How has He answered your prayers? In my experience, God’s provision and protection are most often carried through people. He proved it again this week when Abby Kate returned to her favorite summer camp.

I had some hesitations about camp this year, and especially “wondered” whether she would encounter mean kids there, too. When I reached the clipboard to check her in, I heard a voice:

“Hey, Abby Kate!”

It was Bruce, a young man who in previous years worked as a camp counselor-in-training. He returned this year as a counselor, and he was assigned to Abby Kate’s bus. Abby Kate beamed. She had found a friend she could trust. I had found God’s faithfulness in a familiar face.

God is always nearby and often closer than we think. In a middle school classroom. At a restaurant breakfast table. On a summer camp bus. We just have to adjust our eyes to see Him. When we are focused on Him, our worry fades.

My final (for now) words on worry are not my own. They are from my daddy, written in a letter postmarked September 15, 1998:

“Pray a lots. Worry over nothing. Be thank(ful) for everything. (Especially me.)”

Daddy was wise, and funny when he wanted to be. Those last two words make me laugh.

And laughter would be good on our “Don’t Worry” list, too.

“Because of the Lord’s faithful love we do not perish, for His mercies never end. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness!”

(Lamentations 3:22-23)

It’s the final countdown.

School days are dwindling. The Alabama heat is rising. Summer feels close enough to taste, or maybe that’s just the watermelon I’m eating for breakfast. Only a few more mornings to wake, dress, eat, and dash and that’s a good thing because our pace towards the finish line of 4^th and 6^th grades is slowing down every day. Lily took longer to open her eyes Monday morning, then groaned when she couldn’t sleep any longer and still be on time for school.

“Two more weeks,” I whispered.

Two weeks feels infinitely long when you’re 9-years-old and not a natural rise-and-shiner. It doesn’t help that this is her big sister’s last week. But a field trip and Scholars Bowl team party are built into Lily’s last days so it’s not all work.

She and I talked at bedtime last week, reminiscing about her favorite things from this year and what she didn’t like so much. I was surprised when she said, “I don’t want to leave 4^th grade because I don’t know what 5^th grade will be like.”

Her confession caught me off guard. Lily keeps her feelings tucked in tight, so I was surprised when she shared her worry with me. I didn’t know what to say. I’m sure I muttered something deep and wise along the lines of “It will be OK.”

I don’t know about you but “don’t worry” is my default encouragement to reassure my kids. It’s also terrible advice. It’s practically impossible not to worry, and if your kids are like my Lily, they’ll feel worse for doing something we’ve told them not to do. Instead of saying “don’t worry” I want to teach my daughters things they can do when worry sneaks in. I’ve come up with three.

1) Let someone help you.  I say to Lily all the time, “I’m never far away. If you need me, I’ll be there.” The catch is, I can’t always be there. I suspect 5^th grade will be remarkably similar to 4^th grade – she’s attended the same school since Kindergarten – but if change overwhelms her there is a long list of teachers who won’t hesitate to help. Lily must have the courage to ask.

I’ve shared before the story of how our church took care of us when Jeff deployed to Afghanistan in 2019. From restaurant gift cards (because I didn’t want to cook) to garbage disposal repair (because I didn’t know how) their caring for us was the most authentic display I have known. Through it, my girls experienced the beauty that happens when the church cares for each other as Jesus calls us to do.

2) Help someone else.   Lily will have a lot of opportunities to help someone next year. She found out Monday that she has been selected as a Creekside Chief Leader for her school. Chiefs are 5^th graders who are chosen to greet students as they arrive each morning and offer help to boys and girls who need it. This is perfect for Lily. It will grow her confidence (and shrink her worry!)

We worry less, at least for a little bit, when we put someone else’s needs above our own.  An act of kindness may not wipe away our worry, but it can shift our perspective to more important, even eternal, things. Take a meal to a new mom, send a card of encouragement, or pull your neighbor’s trash can from the curb. The kindness we put into the world has a way of coming back to us, maybe in the way of relief from our worry.

3) Pray.  Lily and I can start praying now for calm and courage in 5^th grade. I want her to pray with a spirit of assurance that God is close, not with the expectation that He will make her worry go away.

One of the hardest prayers I have ever prayed happened halfway through Jeff’s deployment. I literally felt like I could not keep going. As I lay in bed God said to me, “Just do the next thing.” For me, the next thing was laundry. As I stood in front of the washing machine, I found strength to do another thing, and then another. God shows up when we ask Him to, and incredibly He wants us to ask Him over and over again.  

There’s a lot of summer to live before the first day of 5^th grade arrives. Worry is inevitable as Lily wonders who her teacher will be and which friends she’ll have with her in class. Instead of saying “Don’t worry” I’ll ask, “How can I help you worry less?”   

What worries are your kids carrying? Have you noticed things that make them nervous? Lead the way as they learn…  

To let someone in.
To help someone out.
To talk to God.

P.S.  This list works for grown-ups, too!

P.P.S. There are a lot of Bible verses on worry. I picked this one because it will be easy (for Lily) to remember.

“When I am afraid, I will trust in You.”

(Psalm 56:4)

Inspiration can come from unlikely places. For example, in a pillow I purchased on Friday. Normally a new pillow would not prompt me to switch the words I intended for this week but this one is special, or rather the person I bought it for is.

It’s been a milestone week in many ways for my pre-teen daughter. Abby Kate will turn 12 in a couple of days. It is cliché to say she is growing up fast. It is also true. I have not had time to think about how admirably she has matured, especially over the past year, but I realize more each day she is no longer a little girl. My emotions last Monday motivated me to clean her room. My spirit needed it, and so did my sanity.   

Now, before anyone judges me for not making her do the dirty work, understand this was one of those cleanings I had to do while she was at school so I could get rid of stuff. You know, things she can’t live without such as the McDonald’s Happy Meal toys she hasn’t played with since the second she finished her french fries and the piles of paper scraps stuffed into her desk drawers. And while yes, I needed to dust and vacuum before a HAZMAT team showed up and shut it down, I also wanted to redecorate. Just a little. Because a little is all Abby Kate will allow.

I’ve kept a brand new, bright yellow quilt set in our guest room closet for more than a year. I bought it because 1) yellow is Abby Kate’s favorite color and 2) it was clearance priced. I expected she would want a room refresh the minute she saw it. She did not.

“I like my flowers,” she said with childlike logic.

Jeff calls Abby Kate his May Flower and has since the day she was born. Her floral Pottery Barn Kids lamp, curtains and wall decals have been in place since she turned 2 and had to surrender the nursery décor to her baby sister.

Abby Kate loves her pink and green (May) flowers.

I knew any attempt to re-decorate could turn disastrous so, after I cleaned, I changed just one thing. I spread the yellow quilt over her bed like a big piece of sunshine then folded her cherished pink-and-green one and placed it at the foot of her bed. Abby Kate said two things when she saw the swap: “I love you!” and “You kept my pink one!”

I ordered new sheets with pink-and-yellow rainbows to connect the colors in both quilts and considered the décor GETMO, a phrase I learned from author Jo Saxton that means “Good Enough to Move On.”

My next move was to replace all the clothes Abby Kate had outgrown. As I cruised store aisles a few days later in search of new shirts, shorts and slides, I found one more piece to accent her new-ish room: the perfect pillow. Pink, green and yellow letters spell:

She is strong.

Being barely careful not to crash into a customer who was examining sheets, I rushed to check the pillow’s price tag and cringed at the cost of $49.99. Crossing my fingers for a sale, I scanned the barcode at the price checker across the aisle and discovered not only was it on sale, but it was also clearance priced just as her yellow quilt had been. $14.99. I practically ran to the checkout register.

My excitement about the pillow runs so much deeper than its coordinating colors and girl-power spirit. Strong is the absolute definition of Abby Kate.

Abby Kate demonstrated incredible physical grit last summer when she broke both of her arms in a scooter wreck. She adapted with ease to having her arms in a cast and splint. She mostly refused pain medicine.

She proved strength of character a few weeks into middle school when a boy began to bully her during P.E.  Once I found out, and at the prompting of school administrators, he apologized and asked Abby Kate to forgive him. She replied with honesty, “I’ll have to think about it.” At the end of class, she sent word through another student that yes, she would forgive him.

Abby Kate also carries a strength of spirit. I’m constantly amazed at her conviction that anything is possible. A conversation in the car after church on Sunday sounded something like this:

“Mommy, I’m sad about something.”
“What are you sad about?”
“I’m sad you won’t get to go with me to Mars. I read they will colonize it by 2050.”
“Where will I be?”
“You’ll be dead.”

Her wit is strong, too.

The Bible instructs parents in Proverbs 22:6, “Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” (NKJV) I like the way The Message interprets the verse. “Point your kids in the right direction, when they’re old they won’t be lost.”

Every day we create the narrative for our kids.

We hold enormous influence and responsibility for their confidence and well-being. Whether the words come from our mouth or from an inspirational pillow, they need to hear they are worthy and that they have value in this world. Their sense of belonging and belief in themselves begins at home.

I encourage you to think about these three things, particularly as you move towards summer and extended family time together.

1. What do you want your child(ren) to hear from you?
2. What does your child(ren) need to hear from you?
3. How can you say or show those things?
   

“Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old, he will not depart from it.”

(Proverbs 22:6)

P.S.
Abby Kate fell in love with this teddy bear at a local arts and crafts festival a couple weekends ago. Look at its colors. Yellow and pink with a hint of green. The perfect complement to her new pillow.

Look closely.

On the left-hand side of this picture, you can see a water tower, tall above the trees. It’s in the neighborhood next to the one where we live but close enough that we consider it ours.

I had mixed feelings about it when we were choosing a lot to build our house 10 years ago. You can’t miss it from our front porch, and I wasn’t sure about the aesthetic it created. While we considered which patch of land to pick, Jeff noted the water tower could be a landmark after road trips, letting us know we’re almost home.

That’s exactly what it’s become. Whether a beacon against a blue sky or covered in clouds causing us to look harder, the water tower is a welcome sight. Abby Kate and Lily have turned it into a game, “tricking” Jeff into looking the opposite direction until they can spy it first. Jeff and I sneak a shared smile every time, knowing these days with them are fleeting. 

The water tower has gotten a spruce over the last few weeks, cleaned and re-painted. We’ve heard the noise as they work late into the night but somehow, I’ve found it soothing. It has reminded me of Saturday mornings as a little girl when I would wake up to the sound of my mom running the vacuum cleaner along the hallway outside my bedroom.

Our family has wondered quite a bit about the renovation as we’ve taken walks through the neighborhood or as the water tower comes into view on the way home from school. Sometimes workers have been hidden behind what looks like a giant shower curtain. Jeff texted me a picture and joked “I don’t know if I can find my way back home if I go somewhere.” 

The water tower is a guidepost for our family. We look for it when we exit the interstate. When we are tired from traveling, whether to Birmingham or Mississippi where our moms live or back from Florida where we’ve seen the Mouse, the water tower signals we’re home.

There is nothing quite like the way coming home stirs the soul.

My childhood home doesn’t have a water tower but I sense a similar thrill when that little yellow house comes into view from the road, just above the community ballpark.

The ditch that flanks mom’s driveway is not an easy entrance, especially when you’re 15 and figuring out how to drive. I’m 43 years old now and I still lean into the steering wheel and stretch my neck toward the windshield, watching carefully to make sure I turn the tires just right. The crunch of gravel feels familiar. I sometimes expect my daddy’s pickup truck to be parked parallel to the hill behind the house, even though he died 13 years ago. When I step onto the deck, my nose automatically searches for the smell of laundry tumbling in the dryer.

Memories, buried deep.

I didn’t even realize they were memories until these flashes from the past flickered in my mind during a visit to see mom in January. It seems no matter how many years go by, the rhythm of home remains, tucked into places we don’t know exist until an unexpected moment of nostalgia unlocks them.

My daddy probably wasn’t thinking beyond a hot shower when he parked his pickup truck after a long day at work in the coal mines, and very likely the next thing my mom considered as she washed clothes was what she should cook for Sunday dinner. They couldn’t have known how closely my heart would hold these very regular, everyday moments. Yet the little things have lingered, long and deep, and my reflection on them has shaped this realization:

I am creating now the memories my daughters will carry through their lives.

I wonder which rhythms, insignificant today, my girls will remember when they return home years from now. The sound of the garage door opening, announcing Jeff home from work. The smell of microwave popcorn I prepare for an after-school snack. The sight of our water tower and knowing they are almost home. 

One day Abby Kate and Lily will be grown and gone, and the space that we desperately needed when they were little will be empty.  Our house, like our water tower over the last weeks, may be cleaned and re-painted, ready to hold another family’s memories. Wherever life takes us, I want the rhythm of home to remain with them.

Look closely.

You might not see a water tower in your personal picture, but the landscape of your life holds something special that connects you and your children to home. Discover what it is. Nurture it as often as you can. Because one day, probably when they least expect, it will be the very thing that welcomes them home.

“By wisdom a house is built, and through understanding it is established; through knowledge its rooms are filled with rare and beautiful treasures.”

(Proverbs 24: 3-4)

Abby Kate drew a deep breath. She held a card in her 9-year-old hands, studying its question. Exhaling, she declared in an almost mournful tone:

“This is the most important question I will answer in my life.”

Then, with the dramatic style of a pint-sized game show host, she posed the question to the contestants sitting around the table – her daddy, sister, and me.

“If you had Remy from Ratatouille make you a roast and potatoes, name the vegetable you’d like him to make as a side dish.”

I didn’t know a Disney-themed Family Feud game could hold such suspense. (So as not to leave you with a cliffhanger, I’ve shared a picture with the answers at the bottom of this post.)

Trivia, and usually laughter, fills our dinner table. Abby Kate and Lily ask to be quizzed regularly on their knowledge of Disney or Harry Potter. In subjects of substance, Lily excels at spelling. History is Abby Kate’s niche. Both girls earned a spot this year on the Scholars Bowl team at their schools.

They like to play along each morning to a trivia contest on a local radio station. Categories range from presidents to pop culture. Sometimes, they’re seasonal. Last week the host asked, “What is the most popular candy for Easter?” The girls guessed jellybeans. I was adamant the answer was Reese’s peanut butter eggs (and I still am). The actual answer? Peeps.

Who do they poll for these questions?!

The bunny and baskets and peanut butter eggs are fun, though superficial celebrations for Easter. I don’t want them to be the only reason I invite the holiday into our home. The true source for this season’s joy is Jesus and the miracle that death could not keep Him.

I hadn’t planned to write about Easter this week but felt a tug in that direction while sitting in front of my computer on Monday. I scanned the margins of my daddy’s Bible, searching for inspiration and notes he may have made about Jesus’ crucifixion or resurrection.

Penciled above Matthew 27, daddy had written the words “greatest question” and drawn lines to verse 22, which he had underlined:

“Pilate saith unto them, What shall I do then with Jesus, who is called Christ?…” (Matthew 27:22)

Did daddy consider this the “greatest question” for the power and influence Pilate held in his answer? Or because he knew the life-changing stakes of our choice?

Emotions propel Christians through Easter observances with passion. We hold Maundy Thursday with reverence. We weep Good Friday for Jesus’ crucifixion. On Easter Sunday, with authentic joy and confidence, we shout, “He is risen indeed!”   

We remember.
We mourn.
We rejoice.

Then Monday comes. And we forget. Our lives return to business and busyness as usual. In our hurry of living, we lose sight of the One who gives us life, and we neglect Pilate’s question:

What shall I do then with Jesus, who is called Christ?

Unlike trivia on a radio or game show this is not a question we answer only one time. Yes, Jesus calls us to belief. He also calls us to action and purpose, and we must choose to pursue those every day. How do we follow Him?

Love our neighbor. (Matthew 22:39)
Show humility. (Matthew 23:12)
Don’t worry. (Matthew 6:34)

What can you add?

As we move through the rest of Holy Week, may we immerse ourselves in the significance of Jesus’ final days, the sacrifice He made for us, and never stop considering the “greatest question” –

What shall I do then with Jesus, who is called Christ?

“Jesus, when he had cried again with a loud voice, yielded up the spirit. And, behold, the veil of the temple was torn in two from the top to the bottom; and the earth did quake, and the rocks were split; And the graves were opened; and many bodies of the saints that slept were raised, And came out of the graves after his resurrection, and went into the holy city, and appeared unto many. Now when the centurion, and they that were with him, watching Jesus, saw the earthquake, and those things that were done, they feared greatly, saying, Truly this was the Son of God.”

(Matthew 27: 50-54)

***

As promised, here is a picture of the question – and answers – Abby Kate declared to be the “most important of her life.” She makes us laugh! Our niece gave us this game for Christmas a couple of years ago and we have enjoyed it.

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