Julie Echols Reyburn

Lightning bugs dotted the night sky during my childhood summers, tiny flickers above our front yard. The summer air stuck to our skin as we chased the fireflies, cupping them in our hands to see their glow up close. Some we released, others we sealed in Mason jars, poking holes in the lids then setting them on the chest of drawers in our bedrooms to shine as nature-made nightlights.

Catching lightning bugs was a summer tradition, a seasonal rhythm of outdoor play as natural as riding bicycles with the neighborhood kids or satisfying our thirst with water from the hosepipe. The epitome of simple, southern, summer fun.

It had been years since I’d tried to spy fireflies, until last summer. We don’t see lightning bugs in our yard, presumably because there aren’t a lot of trees where we live. So when our local botanical garden emailed a list of summer activities, and it included a firefly hike, I wanted my family to go.

Bugs, even the glow-in-the-dark kind, do not automatically spark wonder and curiosity in my daughters. Their feelings are closer to fear and disgust.  They have been known to abandon entire rooms in our house after seeing an insect on the wall or floor. As we waited in an amphitheater to begin the hike, Abby Kate and Lily cowered at the creepy crawlies they noticed on the ground.

“We are here for bugs, girls,” I told them as I laughed. “It will be OK.”

An expert volunteer guided us through trails, educating us at the start about habits and natures of fireflies. The bugs were hard to see at first and the girls were frustrated as they squinted to spot them. The deeper into the trail we walked, the easier the flashes were to find. Abby Kate and Lily began to light up too as they learned to catch and cup the lighting bugs in their hands. These bugs were fun! The girls weren’t afraid anymore.

Like those lightning bugs, our faith is easier for others to see when the places around us are dark. It’s a cinch to shine when life is good, when we feel God’s presence and are certain of our path. But like a lightning bug on a dark garden trail, our light – our faith – shines more brightly in the difficult days when we display courage and continue to trust God.

I learned from an early age, probably the same age I was chasing fireflies, that Jesus is the light of the world. We are called to be light, too. Not so the spotlight shines on us but so that we can illuminate a path for others to find Jesus.

“You are the light of the world. A city situated on a hill cannot be hidden. No one lights a lamp and puts it under a basket, but rather on a lampstand, and it gives light for all who are in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 5:14-16)

The world is looking for light. For good. For hope. We can show them the way to the One who gives – the One who is – all of those things.

Our faith binds us to God’s promises. He will never leave us. He will never forsake us. He is always with us. Let’s shine those truths like lightning bugs on a summer night and remember that just as we hold lightning bugs gently in our hands, God holds us in His.

My favorite fireworks story to tell is the time our family sought the perfect spot to watch a July 4^th celebration over downtown Birmingham.

Daddy pulled to the side of the road on top of a viaduct to give us a decent-but-distant view of the Birmingham skyline from our cream-colored, four-door Oldsmobile. After he parked, he got out of the car to see if he could bend back some bushes to improve our line of sight. I’m not sure any of us were paying him much attention until we saw him sprinting back to the car, chased by two very menacing, very loud guard dogs! There was a “No Trespassing” sign he either hadn’t noticed or didn’t take seriously. My brothers and I had never seen Daddy move so fast! The memory still makes us laugh.

Daddy didn’t always choose free seats for fireworks watching. Some years we paid for tickets to see Birmingham Barons baseball with fireworks following the game. Other years we bought our own fireworks and shot them at home from the top of our driveway. We launched bottle rockets from mom’s Mason jars, spelled our name with sparklers and held Roman candles as jets of light shot high, like spells cast from the wands of wizards during the Battle of Hogwarts.

I wanted Abby Kate and Lily to experience the simple fun of fireworks the same way my brothers and I did, from a glass bottle or jar or held (safely) in their hands. So we drove to my mother-in-law’s home in rural Mississippi where there was plenty of room to shoot and the noise wouldn’t bother anybody. We visited a local fireworks stand and paid a whopping $10.97 for bottle rockets, sparklers and those tadpole-shaped things that snap and pop when you pitch them to the ground.

Whatever spirit the girls lacked in mixing homemade ice cream (see last week’s writing) they more than made up for with old-school fireworks. They loved lighting the fuse on the bottle rockets and watching them launch into the night sky. They swish-and-flicked their sparklers, writing their names and starting mock lightsaber battles. They played the way I did when I was their age, when life was simple and summer was slow.

Now that I’m a mom watching fireworks, whether backyard blasts or a professional display, I often find myself looking away from the fireworks and focusing instead on Abby Kate and Lily’s enchanted faces. Their eyes fill with awe and delight, and I understand why Jesus says the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.  

Fireworks have taught me something else about faith this summer and that is you have to look up to see them. Look up. Those two words remind me of Psalm 121:

            “I lift my eyes toward the mountains.
            Where will my help come from?
            My help comes from the Lord,
            the Maker of heaven and earth.
            He will not allow your foot to slip;
            your Protector will not slumber.
            Indeed, the Protector of Israel
            does not slumber or sleep.
            The Lord protects you;
            the Lord is a shelter right by your side.
            The sun will not strike you by day
            or the moon by night.
            The Lord will protect you from all harm;
            He will protect your life.
            The Lord will protect your coming and going
            both now and forever.”

My life feels really vulnerable right now for a lot of reasons, especially as the girls begin a new school year.   Lily leaves the comfort of elementary school to start 6^th grade in August. Abby Kate is in the throes of middle school and all the social anxieties that come with 8^th grade. Faith feels precarious as what-ifs and worst-cases creep into my thoughts. Fear and worry chase me, very menacing, very loud like those two dogs that nipped at daddy. So, I run. Into God’s presence. The Hills. My Help.

Does your faith feel wobbly today, too? I encourage you to take a cue from summer fireworks shows. Your faith, however feeble, can be a bright spot, piercing the darkness. Look up. Keep looking up. And rest in the wonder and peace of God’s promises. 

The odds were in my favor that tasting homemade ice cream would be the hands-down favorite old-fashioned summer fun activity for my daughters. Leave it to them to beat the odds. Abby Kate checked out as soon as she found out our batch wasn’t cookies and cream flavored. Lily at least sampled a spoonful but decided she didn’t like it.

Crazy kids.

Ice cream colors a lot of my summer memories: red, orange and purple popsicles passed out each night of Vacation Bible School at Bayview Baptist Church, vanilla and chocolate swirls served in a miniature plastic baseball hat at a Birmingham Barons baseball game, and the light-pink hue of homemade cherry ice cream churned in an electric ice cream machine in my mom’s kitchen.

I can still hear the whir of the motor as it mixed the milk, sugar and maraschino cherries, ice crystals forming on the outside of the metal can beneath the ice and rock salt. The hum stirred my excitement as much as it did the ingredients. I loved that sound. I knew something special was happening because homemade ice cream wasn’t something we enjoyed every day. It was a celebration food for the July 4^th holiday and other summer occasions.

I found this picture of my daddy supervising a double batch of homemade ice cream outside in our yard. I don’t recall the day but the picture itself is important to me now. Daddy passed away in 2007. He loved homemade cherry ice cream. He also loved Jesus and wrote letters to me to encourage me in my faith. In one of his letters he advised, “When in doubt, PRAY and then wait on God to lead you.”

Wait.

Waiting on ice cream is easy. The instructions tell us exactly when we will get what we want. And if we’ve followed the recipe, we are practically guaranteed it’s going to turn out alright. If only waiting on God was so simple and assured. Unlike an ice cream recipe, it can be difficult to discern the next step He wants us to take. Sometimes it’s hard to believe His answer for us will be good, at least in the sense that we want it to be. Like a kid who can’t wait to eat ice cream, we pace the kitchen floor, our emotions churning, asking God to please hurry so we can be satisfied with something sweet in our lives.

Sometimes we have to wait for what is good, whether homemade ice cream or answers to our prayers.

I have asked a very specific request of God for the last year. My prayer pendulum has swung between pleading cries and trying to convince myself I’m OK without the answer I want. As I wrestle with doubt and discontent I have found consolation and hope in Psalm 37. Verses 3-7 of that chapter are a recipe of sorts for what to do while we wait:

“Trust in the Lord and do good;
     dwell in the land and enjoy safe pleasure.
Take delight in the Lord,
     and He will give you the desires of your heart.
Commit your way to the Lord;
     Trust in Him and He will do this:
He will make your righteousness reward shine like the dawn,
     your vindication like the noonday sun.
Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him;”

Trust.
Delight.
Commit.
Be Still.

Are you in a season of waiting? I invite you to sit beside me with Psalm 37 because I believe God can do more than we can imagine (Ephesians 3:20).

A couple of weeks ago I made a list of ways God has been faithful to me and my family. I noticed the specific ways He has answered prayers, particulars that could not possibly be called coincidence. God cares about the details of our lives and orchestrates them more beautifully than we ever could. Don’t take my word for it. Take His.

Here are a few Bible promises to encourage you as you wait to receive what is good.

“But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:31)

“The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him.” (Lamentations 3:25)

“In the morning, Lord, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait expectantly.” (Psalm 5:3)

As you wait, you may feel better to indulge a bowl or two of ice cream. I highly recommend the homemade kind.

Clear packing tape holds warped lids in place on two plastic bins in our home office. The boxes stored plates, cups and assorted snacks in my 1995 college dorm room. Now, they keep handwritten notes, cards and letters, hundreds of them reaching back to my middle and high school days. The ink is fading and some of the paper has turned but the memories kept inside are vivid.

Among the mix of white and brightly-colored envelopes there are several with a return address marked Grand Bay, Alabama, from my loyal, long ago pen pal, Pam. We met in New Orleans in 1990 at a New Kids on the Block concert. As soon as we returned to our respective homes -roughly 300 miles apart – we began to exchange letters. Our stories stretched for pages, filling envelopes to their limit and occasionally requiring tape to keep them closed. We decorated those paper pouches with such color that a 64-count Crayola crayon box looked downright bland. I couldn’t wait for my daddy to come home from the coal mines carrying the letters he picked up from our post office box to see if one was for me. Pam’s letters, and the ones I wrote to her, became the best part of my summers.

In the spring of 2020, our school switched to virtual learning and Lily began to miss her best friend, Brooke. For fun (and maybe to give her something to do) I suggested she write Brooke a letter. Lily meticulously penciled a message to Brooke using her very best handwriting. I taught her how to address the envelope and the next morning she marched it to the mailbox. My heart couldn’t help but smile as I remembered my own love for letter-writing and the joy I felt whenever my pen pal replied.

As I searched for a way to make letter-writing a relevant 2022 summertime activity (Isn’t Facetime faster? Email easier?) I came across this quote by author Sara Sheridan:

“To me, reading through old letters and journals is like treasure hunting. Somewhere in those faded, handwritten lines there is a story that has been packed away in a dusty old box for years.”  

Pam’s letters are a part of my story. They are a reflection of a friendship and a space in time I might have long forgotten without handwritten words to remind me. Letters may seem an antiquated way to keep in touch but they capture our life in ways technology cannot, with heartfelt expression that no emoji can communicate. Nothing compares to a handwritten letter, signed, sealed and delivered the old-fashioned (summer) way.

There is a simple sentiment penned post-script in many of the cards I’ve kept through the years. It is a bible verse written by Paul to believers in the city of Philippi:

“I give thanks to my God for every remembrance of you.” – Philippians 1:3

Paul’s words here are not especially profound… except they are. He sets an example for us not just through his faith and leadership but in the affection he communicates using only a few words.

Summer with it’s slower pace is the perfect time to take a moment as Paul did and give thanks to God for special people in your life. Then, take another moment to tell your special people, too. It takes only a few minutes and words to make a difference in someone’s life, one that may carry through generations.

Here are a few tricks to help excite your kids (and maybe yourself!) about writing letters:

• Look for fun stationery at a nearby dollar store.
• Let your kids choose stickers to decorate the envelope
• Buy them their own sheet of stamps. There are a lot of designs to pick from at the post office.
• Gather at the kitchen table and encourage every family member to write a letter. (This is also a great time to teach your kids how to address an envelope.)

If you don’t have time to shop, a piece of notebook paper and a pencil from their backpack works just as well. Remember what really matters, and that is the words themselves.

Happy writing!

Hear me out, y’all.

A family vacation sounds the exact opposite of simple summer fun. The planning, the packing, the paying. Also, the laundry. How often have you returned home (All. The. Laundry.) and wearily wished you could have a vacation to recover from your vacation?

Me, too.

Pictures are popping up in my Facebook memories this week of our family road trip last summer. Jeff, Abby Kate, Lily and I drove from our home in Alabama to the Grand Canyon, exploring more than 3,500 miles over seven states. It was an incredible nine days together and we are ready without doubt or hesitation ready to get on the road again.

Not everyone has the time or money to indulge an extended, expensive trip. I know because growing up, my family didn’t. I was 9-years-old when we took our first family vacation. We traveled to Chattahoochee, Florida to see my Aunt Betty and her family. I also recall family trips to Gatlinburg, TN and Panama City Beach, FL. But there was one vacation we played on repeat: an Atlanta Braves baseball game and overnight stay in Stone Mountain, Georgia. I have faded photographs of hiking and pedal boats, my brothers and I squinting our eyes at the sun in the southern summer heat.

Travel, however near or far, is something a lot of us take for granted. We learned just how much when COVID restricted and even cancelled our vacation plans. Several of my friends are just now taking trips they intended in 2020. For all the curses we have uttered at COVID I can recognize one gift, and that is the ways the pandemic re-introduced the value of home. 

COVID pushed me to be creative within my family’s four walls. I was inspired one evening to plan a camp-themed movie night. We made s’mores and hot dogs in our oven, played tic-tac-toe with sticks and rocks from our yard, and watched the original Parent Trap movie starring Haley Mills. Abby Kate and Lily loved it! The evening allowed me to share a fun memory about the summer my cousin Donna and I watched The Parent Trap on VHS (“What’s a VHS tape, Mom?”) so many times we memorized the entire movie. My brothers were annoyed enough that they hid the tape!

Maybe you’re parked at home because of a crowded schedule or creeping gas prices. In what small ways can you make memories?  Your family doesn’t have to travel far to enjoy intentional, uninterrupted time together. We see God’s goodness reflected in the people we love, not just the places we visit. The trip you take could be as close as your living room, your vacation a break from the real world of email or virtual world of video games. The goal, regardless of destination, is simple summer fun.

As you consider what’s left of your summer, here is my encouragement to you:

• There is remarkable fulfillment to hear my girls say “I’ve been there!” when they hear mention of faraway places. Once in a lifetime travel is a gift. If you can, go.
• Trips that turn into tradition are special, too. They forge a family bond that is uniquely yours and will hold belonging and nostalgia in ways you may not see right now.
• Don’t dismiss the small moments you create at home. A staycation may be exactly what you need to see God’s goodness in your everyday life.

The Bible tells time and again the significance held in little things: lilies (Matthew 6), sparrows (Matthew 10), a mustard seed (Matthew 13). Coincidentally, those same things can lead you into simple summer fun.

“Learn how the wildflowers of the field grow; they don’t labor or spin thread. Yet I tell you that note even Solomon in all his splendor was adorned like one of these!” (Matthew 6: 28)

“Aren’t two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them falls to the ground without your Father’s consent.” (Matthew 10:29)

“It’s the smallest of all seeds, but when grown, it’s taller than the vegetables and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the sky come and nest in its branches.” (Matthew 13:32)

“I tasted honeysuckle!” Abby Kate practically shouted to me as she clamored away from the crowd of students waiting to be picked up from the afternoon car line.

She haphazardly shed her backpack as she climbed into the car, chatting so excitedly I could hardly understand what happened in P.E. class. She told me she and some friends were walking the woods behind her middle school when a classmate named Kate spotted honeysuckle and taught her how to try it.

“I pinched off the end and pulled out the piece with honey on it and put it in my mouth,” she described. “It tasted sweet. I liked it!”

I was stumped for a moment. This child of mine, who turns up her nose at tasting any new food I put on the table tasted without hesitation a flower she found in the woods.

“Have you ever tried it?” she asked.

I smiled as I told her that I had, in fact, tasted honeysuckle. The memories are fuzzy – it’s been more than 35 years – but I remember enough.

Honeysuckle vines grew at the top of a hill behind my childhood home. Some mornings before school I would pick one of the fragrant flowers and taste its sweet honey. My mom says the honeysuckle still blooms, though she’s put up a privacy fence and we can’t get to them.

My daughters spend a lot of time at my mom’s house (my daddy passed away in 2008) and I love to share memories with them of what my home and neighborhood were like when I was growing up.

A few weeks after Abby Kate tasted honeysuckle we visited my husband’s home in Mississippi. Abby Kate discovered some honeysuckle vines behind my mother-in-law’s house. She stepped through the brush to show the yellow-and-white blossoms to her little sister Lily. Lily had to pick a few flowers to find one with enough honey to taste. She liked it, too.

Nature can pull us into deeper fellowship with God, and our sampling of honeysuckle made me think about the significance of honey throughout the Bible. Honey represents abundance in the Promised Land (Exodus 3:8) and provision in the wilderness (Matthew 3:4; Mark 1:6). Honey is so precious and pure that David uses it to express the beauty and worth of God’s own words (Psalm 19:10; Psalm 119:103). If our intention is to find God’s goodness in summer fun, honey seems a good place to start.

Summer is an invitation to connect with our kids in ways that aren’t complicated: exploring the outdoors, experiencing its beauty and enjoying the sweetness it gives to us. Our sample was honeysuckle but there are all kinds of fresh flavors to taste this season. Let your children pick one to try!  Find fun in tasting something fresh and sharing simple pleasures.

Whatever summer food you choose to satiate your stomach, remember nothing can satisfy like Jesus. He created this wonderful world and the goodness it gives. As we fill our bodies with nature’s incredible eats, let us not forget He is nourishment for our soul.

“How sweet Your word is to my taste – sweeter than honey in my mouth.” (Psalm 119:103)

Fresh watermelon.
Homemade ice cream.
A cold glass of lemonade.

We can literally taste summer and its refreshing sweetness. The season invites our senses to come alive and not just our taste buds. Summertime brings the smell of sunscreen, the sound of crickets, and the feel of sunshine on our skin.

Maybe we are more keenly aware of summer’s simple pleasures because we feel permission to slow down. The absence of schedules for our kids allows us room to relax. There aren’t homework assignments to check, lunches to pack, or car lines to join. We can trade our “to-do” list for a “today” list and indulge longer, lazy days.

My childhood summers were made of sleeping late, playing with friends, and a family vacation. The calendar for my daughters is different, crowded with assorted camps and organized activities. I don’t mind it, really. Summer camps give them experiences I can’t at home, things such as canoeing, horseback riding and rock climbing.

I’m careful to build in time to relax. Our rhythm is one week on, one week off. Rest is underrated. Kids need time and space to build forts from couch cushions, adventure through books and endlessly play video games. My brothers and I thumbed hours of Nintendo’s Super Mario Bros and RBI Baseball!

“We had a good childhood,” my little brother texted recently as we reminisced with our big brother about favorite cartoons. “I miss those days.”

I miss them, too.

About a year ago I made a list of things I enjoyed during summers as a little girl. I wanted my daughters to glimpse what life was like when I was their ages. I still carry those moments close and thought it would be meaningful to make new memories with Abby Kate and Lily with what I call “old-fashioned” fun.

Eating homemade ice cream.
Watching fireworks.
Catching lightning bugs.

These are the moments summer is made for. The leisurely pace opens our eyes to God’s creation and the beauty around us. We are not only allowed but encouraged to simply
 
Taste.
See.
Be.

The Bible tells us to “Taste and see that the Lord is good.” (Psalm 34:8) These words of praise and gratitude are my inspiration to find God’s goodness in simple summer fun. So, throughout June and July I’ll share 7 fun ways – one each week – to make memories with your kids this summer. None of the experiences has to be fancy and a few of them can be enjoyed for free!

I would love for you to join me as we play our way through summer. I will share our experiences on my website julieecholsreyburn.com and on Instagram @julieecholsreyburn using the #tasteseebe hashtag. Let’s make memories together this year – with our kids and with each other!

“I’m hungry,” Abby Kate said. “I want waffles.”

“Well, let me show you something!” I replied, pulling our toaster from the kitchen cabinet with flourish. “You can cook them yourself.”

(I have neither the energy nor the want to make waffles from scratch. Frozen is faster. L’eggo my Eggo.)

Abby Kate stood beside me, watching, as I plugged in the toaster and showed her how to check the browning controls so her food wouldn’t burn.

“But I’ll burn my fingers!” she said, wondering how she would take out the waffles when they popped hot and ready.

I offered her a small pair of wooden tongs and a warning, “Do not ever put anything metal into a toaster.”

I’ve learned it’s best to assume she knows nothing.

As Abby Kate placed the waffles on her plate and poured (way too much) syrup on top I said with a smile, “Now you will never go hungry! Because you know how to make waffles.”

In a lot of ways I feel behind the curve in raising my kids. It’s my fault. I fancy myself Supermom and enjoy it. But as the girls are growing, so is my frustration over doing the things they are capable of taking care of themselves.

Life Lesson #1: Make your own breakfast.

It’s long overdue. Abby Kate will turn 13 years old in May and I am acutely aware of the dwindling amount of time I have left to teach Life Lessons #2 through 2000. I have felt inadequate a lot lately, as if she will never be ready to walk confidently into the world on her own.

The painful truth is, I have almost always felt behind in raising Abby Kate. The toddler years were the worst for me in terms of measuring milestones. She didn’t cut her first teeth until she was more than a year old. She was almost 2 before she started to talk (and I don’t mean sentences, I mean words). She couldn’t write her name when she started Kindergarten.

One Sunday morning when Abby Kate was still very young, a more experienced mom offered me the best piece of parenting advice I have ever heard:

“She’s not going to take her paci to the prom.”

On that particular day I could very well have been wondering if or when to wean Abby Kate from her pacifier. But this mom’s words weren’t really about the pacifier at all. She was reassuring me that Abby Kate would develop and grow as God intended. It was her way of letting me know Abby Kate was going to be fine. And that I would be, too.

I carry a lot of hopes and dreams for my daughters, a picture of what I want their lives to be. These days I find myself wondering of Abby Kate:

Will she move away for college?
What career will she pursue?
Who will she choose to marry?

It’s easy to get caught up in the end game. I wrestle with worry, doubt and guilt. Part of preparing Abby Kate for what’s to come is quieting my questions and paying attention to what she is experiencing now. I can’t predict her future but I can:

Coach her through an essay for English class.
Engage her interests and hobbies.
Mirror what a healthy relationship looks like.

And I can teach her how to toast waffles.

There’s another pivotal piece of parenting advice that I have bookmarked, literally. It comes from actor/comedian/author Paul Reiser in his book titled “Familyhood.”

Reiser writes:

“Kids are like a plane. And you’re like the pilot, but only a little. In truth, the kid takes off and flies less because of what you do and more because of how the kid is designed. Once they’re up, they’re going to be buffeted and pushed around plenty by bad weather and strong winds and angry turbulence. No way to avoid it. As the pilot, you make your adjustments. That’s your job. Do it as best you see fit. But take comfort knowing that in the end, they’ll fly. Because they want to fly.”

The flight path is different for every child. God picked you to be the pilot your son or daughter needs. So, don’t let the pressure to be a “good mom” paralyze you. Resist the impulse to second-guess yourself. Take captive any comparison that makes you feel like a failure. If we are present with our kids and take the time to teach them, they are going to find their way, in their time.

The most important thing we can do to impact our kids for their lifetime is to love them. Teaching our children – whether to ride a bicycle, cook a meal, or create a budget – is an act of love. I would venture it is the greatest measure of our love. Because in teaching them, we are not just preparing them for life. We are also preparing ourselves to let them go.

“Start children off in the way they should go, and even when they are old they will not turn from it.”

(Proverbs 22:6)

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)