Tag: family

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It’s been a summer.

It’s been a summer. More to come on parts – Im still sifting through. We’re all OK. But, part of navigating some hard things this summer was seeing old people in my life in new lights.

I have seen the “Christians” who want to weaponize prayer and scripture to exclude others. They’ve had a very busy summer of conplaining. Keep griping. Don’t care. I will not participate in contributing to anyone’s religious trauma. I will not be loved based on who I excluded. I would rather be excluded for who I love. Your “shunning” of me is the greatest gift you could have given me. We may both identify as Christians, but we are not the same. Thank you for removing your toxic spirit from my life. Best of luck wherever you end up, I hope your heart thaws out soon! ❤️

Teachers from my kids’ schools who want to make jokes about parents’ communication with the school. That’s fine: just remember, if you all did your jobs, we wouldn’t have to follow up 🙂 Also, if anyone thinks I’ll ever apologize for going to bat for my kid, you’re actually worse at your job than I thought. (BTW, this behavior and the “how many sleeps until our next break” status updates are why your profession doesn’t get the respect those who actually do a good deserve). But, I just sent a coffee gift card to one of the teachers who I know cares. Thanks for reminding me to focus on the good ones, not the ones like you. I hope the teachers who love ALL the kids feel how much they’re loved ❤️

People in general who want to make digs and let others know they look down on them through “not-so-subtle” middle school girl antics can kiss it too. I’ll never apologize for standing up for what’s right. Keep whispering. When you find your grown-up voice, I hope we can sit down to talk so I can hear your side and you can hear mine. Until then, I’ll sit back and wait for your fit to run its course. Thank you for reminding me to still be a decent human even in the face of disagreement. I hope someone else got some peace because your anger was directed at me for awhile. I hope they know I love them. ❤️

Mostly, I’ve been thinking a lot about life and people. Its funny how some people are only meant to be in your life for a little bit while some will be with you for the duration. I’m  also wondering when it became cool to be mean. When did laughing at the end of an insult begin making bullying acceptable and how come some people who swear they support everyone are some of the most judgemental people? Consider my mind boggled.

I’m not without my faults, heck some of that up there is actually hitting closer to home than I’d like to admit. But I am brave enough for self reflection and strong enough to do the heavy lifting to improve. That’s got to count for something, right?

The saddest realization of all, is knowing so many people won’t do the same. 

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Go Green

I spent yesterday touring the campus of Central Michigan University with my son to help him decide on a college. We spe t our day meeting professors, seeing classes happening, and talking with students. I walked away feeling good about the idea of sending him off to college.

In the car, we talked about his favorite school though, Michigan State University. He knows that’s definitely a school he wants to go to. It’s his number one, always has been.

He has loved MSU his whole life. Probably because we have too. We have so many friends and family who have attended there. We know quite a few kids who go there now (they’re all safe).

We love MSU. We bleed green and white here (and maroon and gold, CMU is just as special!). Saturdays in the fall, you will find us cheering for our Spartans, sometimes from within the comfortable confines of Spartan Stadium.

We love Sparty. We love Zeke the Wonder dog. We love the Dairy Store, small animals day, and believe in the power of Izzo in March.

We have always felt safe at MSU. We felt embraced by the collective buzz of learning, doing, and comradery of good people working for a better future.

This shooting feels so much more personal. It feels violating. Enfuriating. Disgusting. And we weren’t even there – I cannot fathom what those directly impacted are going through.

More disgusting? The fact that this keeps happening. When is it enough? When do we finally push back and demand more from our leaders? Don’t we owe it to each other to start using our voices and votes to demand our leaders crawl out of the NRA’s pocket? It’s time to start doing what is right, instead of what pays best. Lives are literally on the line.

Spartans will, because Spartans do.

Go green.

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Brown Tray Christmas

All I need to learn from Jesus, I learned from brown cafeteria trays.

They take me back to my grandma’s very crowded house, filled with our very large family, on Christmas Eve. The dining room and table were far from large enough for the crowd, but it was never a problem. When the table filled up, you grabbed a tray. No one was left out or forced to wait for room to enjoy the food and fellowship. Grab a tray, find a spot somewhere, and settle in for good food with a side of familiar conversation.

It was always so crowded, so loud, and so hot, but I didn’t care. My family was all together on Christmas Eve. We were having fun, getting presents, and taking a break from the world to bask in love. Short of a small, dirty, crowded manger many years before, I can’t think of a better place for a Christmas story to be lived.

Me enjoying Christmas, with Grandma taking care of business in the back.

My heart was taken back to those Christmas Eve meals the first time I walked into my son’s Sunday school class to see many tiny people scattered about the floor in a haphazard circle-oval-octagon sort of shape coloring pictures of the good shepherd. There was no table to be seen, just brown plastic cafeteria trays filled with crayons and colorfully marked papers.

“We backed up to make room for us all,” my son shared later, “It’s nice we don’t have a table to get in the way. We can make lots of room if more friends come.”

From His birth to His work as our shepherd, the reminder of His love and promise to care for all of us is so very clear. It doesn’t matter if you are in a crowded place, without table, young, or old – with Jesus there is always room for everyone. Grab a tray and find a spot for His love to shine in on you.

Luke 2:7 says “…they placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available.

Jesus’ story started with no room. No place for him. No one made a space for Him in their homes or the inn, but Jesus’ still found a spot. They squeezed in where they could fit, filled the space with love, and the news spread from this humble small spot. The Greatest story ever told began to unfold in the least likely of places. We hear a similar story when Jesus speaks about us in the story of the Good Shepherd later in his life.

John 10:16 “…I have other sheep that are not of this sheep pen. I must bring them also.”

No room in the sheep pen? No problem! Get another. When that one is full? Get another. No one is turned away or forgotten with Jesus. He remembers all of us, scattered around the world. Like a crowded family celebration or preschool Sunday school room, there is always room for more. Grab a brown cafeteria tray, make a little room, and let everyone in. Jesus is for everyone. Jesus’ love is for us all.

Merry Christmas, I’m thinking 1983.
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Be Curious

If you live with a child, or have spent any time with one, you have to admit this is pretty true. Kids see more, ask more questions, and seek more information about the world than adults do. 


Just a few weeks back, my niece pointed to a small sapling peeking out of the ground. It was barely six inches tall and resembled Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree more than the old mighty trees around it. She pointed at it and asked me what it was. Honestly, if she hadn’t asked about it I probably wouldn’t have noticed it. 


“That’s a baby tree. It’s just starting but it will grow tall like all these trees. They were this small a long time ago too.” I answered, sure that I nailed it.


“Oh. Then it gets big and can be a rainbow tree!” 


My inflated sense of scientific pride deflated a bit. Clearly SOME of what I said made sense but I obviously hadn’t been clear enough. So I tried again.


“Kind of. It’ll get big and then it’ll be just like these trees by it.” I wisely touch a broad trunk nearby to reinforce that trees are trees, not rainbows. Miss Frizzle herself couldn’t have better at this point.


“And then a rainbow tree. I like the rainbow trees.” She looked slightly frustrated with my answer.


At this point, I was cold, my knees hurt from being crouched to her level that long, and I was lost. I sheepishly admitted I didn’t know what a rainbow tree was and asked for an explanation. 


She sighed (in fairness, I probably had that coming) and came next to me, then pointed up at the colorful canopy of fall colors over our heads and in a tiny awe-filled whisper of a voice told me,


“I like it when the trees are rainbows.” 


For the first time in my life, I looked at the leaves not as a sign of impending winter or of football season, but simply as the sparkling colors dancing over our heads. 


Red, orange, yellow, and green leaves danced against the blue sky among shadows of indigo and violet. The trees really do become rainbows. 


I couldn’t help but wonder what other things I am missing in life just because I don’t look closer or ask many questions. 


In adulthood, I think it’s safe to say that we’re so worried about knowing everything that we often overlook the importance of asking questions. It’s ok not to know. It’s even better to seek knowledge from those around us and to question the world. 


It’s true in all aspects of life, but it’s been feeling especially true to me in my faith. I read the Bible, hear the verses, and listen to sermons without stopping to ask about parts I don’t understand. I take what is presented to me without digging deeper. 


I tend to forget what God told Jeremiah in Jeremiah 33:3, “call to me and I will answer you and tell you great unreachable things you do not know.” I know I’m not the only one.


God wants us to ask questions. To wrestle with His word. To seek more than what we see. 



“It is the glory of God to conceal things,  but the glory of kings is to search things out.” Proverbs 25:5


Do you know the history of what was going on when the Bible was being written? Why do you worship how you do? Who decreed the changes? How do we decide what parts of the Bible to follow and what parts do not apply to us? 


What can we do with this ancient text in our modern world to actually live like Christ? 


I don’t have the answers. I may never. Maybe no one does. But no matter what, we need to keep asking questions, seeking information, and embracing the curiosity of children in our faith. 

And also enjoy the rainbow trees.

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Missing Pieces

This is part 2 of the October Pregnant and Infant Loss Series – please read Part 1 HERE if you haven’t already. 

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All I wanted to do when I got home was sleep. I blamed it on the leftover anesthesia still flowing through my body but truthfully, I was just trying to escape the reality of the day. I stayed in bed for nearly 24 hours until the following afternoon when I decided it was time to “get over it”. 

“Everyone will think I am crazy,” I kept telling myself, “They weren’t real babies, right? I didn’t hold them, I didn’t name them, I didn’t even ask any questions about them so obviously I just need to move on from this mess.” 

I was living on pain meds and still feeling a terrible ache as I fumbled through the day. I got my basic Saturday routine of cleaning and shopping done before falling back into my bed that evening. I thought once my body was only mine once again, things would go back to normal but I was wrong. Instead of feeling like my normal self in a bit of pain, the hollow aching left me feeling more empty than I’d ever been before. 

I was sure people were going to think I was crazy for not getting over this faster. 

Martin Hudáček’s sculpture entitled “Memorial for Unborn Children

The next evening, we had floor seats for a concert we’d been looking forward to for almost a year. We talked about skipping it, but I was determined to show the world (and myself) that I was not crazy. I was fine because “these things happen” and I couldn’t mope forever. I had planned to go to the concert with my babies in my belly, so I certainly wasn’t skipping it just because they were gone. 

It was the worst concert of my life. I’m not sure if it is because of who I was with (we divorced 2 years later), the fact that the band’s new album sucked (it really did), or that I spent half the concert running to the restroom to change another soaked pad all night. I just remember sitting in my seat and looking around at the arena packed with thousands of people wondering to myself if they could tell the pain I was in. I wondered if anyone else in that arena was feeling the same way. Had anyone else there ever felt that way? The feeling didn’t subside until I crawled into bed and drifted to sleep that night. 

When I went to work Monday morning there were flowers and a card on my desk. The moment I walked in and saw them, I turned on my heel and walked back out the door. I had said it was not to be talked about. Not acknowledged or implied or anything. I told them I’d be back Tuesday and I expected my desk cleaned and everyone else over this by then. 

How could I move on if the people around me were insisting on dragging me back into it. 

That’s the part no one tells you in the cheap pamphlet the doctor hands you when you lose a baby. For every person who tells you “these things happen” or “God works in mysterious ways” there are just as many people who want you to grieve and go through the emotions of losing someone you love. 

Both sides surround you and you’re never sure which way to go. You will alternate between both camps as you sort out the mess of emotions and hormones that come with losing a baby. You will hate your body for failing you while gingerly caring for it as it slowly heals from the physical trauma. You will feel like you’re losing your mind and not doing it “right” when really, there is no single right way to deal with this pain. You only need to do what is right for you. Lean into the feelings when they overcome and keep living your normal life when they go. How you react does not change how deep your loss was.

My babies should be turning 16 in the next few weeks. Their due date was November 11, 2005. For anyone who thinks things like this go away over time, I think about them every year on that date, even though I know as twins they likely would have come sooner. 

I think about how badly I wanted to hold them and hug them on November 11. How I had planned to cover them with kisses, breathe in their essence, and tell them they were loved as they took their first breaths. I hope they felt loved every second of their short lives with me. More than anything, I’m so grateful they had each other. Whether they knew what was happening, felt any discomfort, or worried for even a second about what was happening they were not alone. 

They had each other then and they have each other now in heaven. Someday, I know I will hold them and I will remind them they were loved for every second of their lives – and mine. They were loved like only a mother can love.

I am a mother four, who only got to hold two. 

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My Son Calls Someone Else Mom…and I love it!

My son’s father and I divorced when he was 1. 

He got his step mom when he was 2. 

He started calling her mom when he was 3. 

People used to ask me how I could stand for my child calling another woman mom. Actually, some still do. 

When we got a divorce, I knew this meant I would be away from my child. There would be days he would wake up and go to sleep without seeing my face and that fact shattered my heart. That was not the idea of motherhood I signed up for nor was it the kind of childhood I had imagined for him from before I even knew of his existence. 

When he first started calling someone else mom, it stung. It stung deep. I was worried I would be replaced or he would end up confused. I hated the idea that someone else could possibly be equal to me in his eyes; I just wanted to be the greatest human he’d ever met (let’s be real, I still do). 

It wasn’t until he was 4 and we could have an actual conversation about titles, right around when he wanted to call his step-dad “dad”, that it all made sense.

He hadn’t been calling her mom because he had no faith in me, he had been calling her mom because it felt normal. When he was there and the other kids said it, he could too. He could blend in and not feel weird; he just wanted to have a “normal” life. He also found comfort in her. He knew she wasn’t me, I was his favorite, but having a mom when he was away from me made it better for him.

He told me about games she played, parks they went to, and things they did. He smiled and giggled sharing funny stories that had made him happy. He said she was nice and she loved him. He said he loved her too – if that was ok with me. 

In that moment, the clouds parted and I understood how lucky I was to have her in my son’s life. She wasn’t there to replace me, she was there to love him when I couldn’t. Though we had never really met, we were silent teammates in the loving of this boy. Two women, on opposite ends of the spectrum, loving and guiding a small boy. He was the one I gave birth to, the one she signed up for, and he loved us both. 

I realized how lucky I was that he called her mom. He wanted to call her mom. That meant he felt her warmth and love wrapping him up when I could not. He knew she would make sure he had breakfast and make dinners he liked. She would play games, go to the park, and be silly with him during his time away from me. I may not have seen him every day, but he laid his head down every night knowing a woman who would keep him safe and loved him was just down the hallway. Always. No matter which house he was at.

So, no. I had no problem with my son calling another woman mom. Fourteen years after he first met her, she is no longer his step mom on paper, but she is still his mom. She loves him, she has seen his ups and downs, helped him when he was sick, and is still in his corner to this day. I have no doubt she will be there for him forever, either. I’m not hurt at all he calls her mom, in fact, I’m grateful he does. Kids need all the love they can get.

He found a soul that loved him purely and forever, which is what motherhood is really all about. It has nothing to do with a bloodline or what a piece of paper says. Motherhood is about love, dedication, tough love, and hopeless optimism for a child’s life. It comes from moms, but sometimes from other people our children are blessed to come across in life. It’s a gift to know your child is loved like you love them when you are not around. 

I’ll never be replaced, neither will you, but knowing your child is loved brings a peace unlike any other. 

Happy Mother’s Day to everyone. The moms, step moms, bonus mom, grandmas, aunts, cousins, best friends, teachers, neighbors, and anyone else who steps up to lovingly guide a child through the complexities of life. When they’re scared, lonely, and can’t be by their mom – you are a gift from God. 

Thank you to everyone who is part of my kids’ mom tribes – especially Ben’s other mom. 

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Who Will You Be When This is All Over? – SheProclaims.com

Who will you be when this is all over? This question got lodged in my head somehow this week. Here in Michigan, we are “sheltering in place” for three weeks. It sounds like a long time and feels even longer, but in the grand scheme of life it isn’t. It’s only three weeks (for now…who knows what’s next). 

Caterpillars spend 5 to 21 days inside their chrysalises turning into beautiful butterflies. Three weeks for even the slowest of caterpillars to go from fancy worm to magical butterfly. If they can do that, we certainly can learn a few things in the coming weeks. The question “who will you be when this is all over” deserves a little extra thought. 

The way I see it, we have two choices. We can come out exactly how we went in – which I guess would be a caterpillar fail – or we can turn inward and see new things about ourselves. We can make a few changes and learn a few new things to make us better than we were before. Enhanced versions of ourselves. 

A Change of Plans

If life had gone to plan this Spring, we would be ferrying one child to ballet, theater class, and softball while the other needed rides to vocal coaching and extra choir rehearsals. Matt and I would still be working a lot of hours because we should be getting ready to load up the family truckster to head to Disney World next week. We should be packing and planning while living our busy, chaotic, beautiful life. 

Instead, I am working from home with the kids running around. Matt’s role, classified as essential right now, requires him to still go to work every day. Aside from that, we’re here. We’re reading more books, playing more games, watching more tv, and going for more hikes than usual. We’re disappointed in the things we’re missing out on but it is what it is at this point. We are cozied up in our home for the next three weeks. 

Our home has become our chrysalis. We can ride it out and stay the same or choose to be better. [Spoiler alert: I’m choosing to be better. Pretty sure you saw that coming.] 

Be Bitter or Be Better

I could be mad the store didn’t have the Cheez-Its I like (we’re all a little hooked on the white cheddar Grooves) but I choose to see how lucky I am for everything they did have. Things of actual sustenance.

Being upset with the hoarders and complaining about them openly is understandable but I choose to use my energy instead to help those in my community who need things right now instead.

I could point fingers and debate the politics of this situation with the rest of the world but I’m going to be really honest right now: I don’t care. Does it really matter who’s fault it is it started or what party someone with an idea belongs to? I don’t care about any of those stupid details everyone keeps screaming about all day long. Mistakes were made and are being made, I think we can all agree on that, I am focused on doing my part not to spread anything and loving on the people around me right now. Honestly, that’s what really matters. Everyone should be looking out for each other, taking the steps to prevent spreading it, and reminding each other we’re all in this together. No one is alone. 

I also want to learn the ukulele, finish a few books I’m reading, memorize Psalm 23, clean out this house, do some painting, clean the yard, and take a lot of naps.  

Who will you be when this is all over?

When I come out of my chrysalis, I want to keep giving. I want to keep giving food and medicine to people in need. I am spreading love and friendship to people feeling sad and alone. I’m giving more time to my friends and family. I will do one less chore per day so I can color one more picture with my daughter. Staying up just a little later so I can play one game with my son will be a priority. I want to sit on the sofa next to my husband instead of lounging in my favorite chair when we talk at night. 

I want to be a happier, more living, more peaceful person when I come out. Leaning into my life and my people like never before will be my new normal. I’m going to be a butterfly. 

Who will YOU be when this is all over?