For what it’s worth…

Therapy is way more than a toolbox of intervention.  Information alone cannot replace professional help. However, information can be very powerful.  So, for what it’s worth to you, here is the weekly post offering a therapeutic idea, concept, or intervention that you can try out in your own life or relationships. 

There is a deceptively simple communication tool that most of us would do well to employ in all of our relationships, personal or professional.  Reflective listening is when you simply repeat back what you heard the other person say.

Sounds so simple or easy that it may seem awkward or weird at first.  I promise you that if you do not naturally use this technique already it WILL feel awkward at first, but it is worth the practice.

I dare you to listen to successful business people in action.  Many of them use this tool naturally.

Others of us have to practice.  What snags our efforts is that too many of us are already thinking about what WE want to say in return (or in retaliation!) to really pay attention to what the other person is saying.

When we take time to really HEAR what the other person is saying because we  plan on reflecting it back, we might be surprised by what the other person truly says.

Another snag we encounter is the tendency to think that if we reflect back it means we are agreeing with a person.

NOT TRUE!  Letting a person know that you heard them does not equal agreeing or the condoning of emotions, thoughts, or behaviors.

Several things take place when we use reflective listening.  You can read more about using this tool here where I talk about personal and professional examples of it from my own life.

However, here is a short synopsis of what takes place with the use of this deceptively simple technique:

  1. The other person feels heard.
  2. You are more likely to really listen when you know you are going to reflect back what you hear.
  3. The other person gets to experience how you have heard them.  Sometimes that is helpful feedback and they realize that they are communicating something unintended.
  4. Communication mishaps and misunderstandings get detected earlier and with less relational fall out later on.
  5. The conversation gets slowed down so that emotion does not vamp it up to uncontrollable speeds.

I have seen amazing things happen in my office when I have led mothers and daughters, dad and sons, husbands and wives, sisters and brother to use this technique.  I have also experienced the results myself!  There have been many times when I have repeated back what I have heard Jon say (or vice versa!) only for him to say: “That’s not what I said” or “That’s not what I meant.  I might have said that, but I didn’t mean it quite like that.”

So, for what its worth, try it!  Practice saying things like: “So what I hear you saying is…” or “What you’re saying is…”.

You can also reflect back emotion: “You seem really sad right now”.

Try it with your kids.  Try it with your spouse.  Try it at work.  You’ll be amazed at how people will open up when you reflect back to them what you hear WITHOUT judgment.

For more great communication help here is a fabulous book, People Skills.  Other professors and I use it in classes and students will often say that they will NOT be selling this book back.  They will be keeping it as a reference!

Saturday Sampling

I am doing my best to get around and read the other INCREDIBLE blogs that are out there.  People have asked me how, with everything I have going on, I manage to read blogs.  Blogs are usually fairly quick reads.  They are very easy to read in short bursts in my schedule where the downtime and my attention span has a small window .  In the school pick-up line.  While waiting for a client.  In the doctor’s office.  The few minutes before I go to sleep. You get the idea.

Anyway, here is a sampling of some posts from this past week that inspired me, educated me, or made me think.

I also acknowledge that I cannot read everything.  The amount of good material is overwhelming.

Do you think I missed anything significant?  I try to look for variety.  Can you help me with that?  Please post any of your recommendations below so we can all benefit!

FAITH, BIBLICAL, and THEOLOGICAL REFLECTIONS

Bible Contradictions

Join the movement!  So thankful for the work represented here.

“Oh my goodness!!!…I’m being followed!”

Surely goodness and mercy ARE following us!

Visible Families in the (In) Visible Kingdom

Children’s pastor Jonathan Simmons reminds us of just how important the family actually is.


PARENTING THOUGHTS…

#Scimom and me

This is an older one, but gives some thoughts on being a scientist and a mom and really on the all time important topics for mothers everywhere…balance and being ok with not being able to do it all.

5 tough-love principles for making friends with other moms

Want some real and practical advice for making friends?  Here is the tough love truth.

100 Ways to Encourage a New Mom

Some GREAT tips for all of us in caring for the new mothers in our life…whether their infant is their first or (ahem!) their fourth!

MOVEMENTS, NON-PROFITS, GROUPS AND PEOPLE MAKING A BIG DIFFERENCE….

Wandering Through Nothingness

Curious about the movement/non-profit called Girls on the Run?  Read about the heart of this international group here from its founder, Molly Barker.

Healer God

At age 22, Katie Davis is doing something amazing in Uganda.  You can read about her journey here and how you can get involved.

PERSONAL INTERESTS AND THOUGHTS ON RELATIONSHIPS OF ALL KINDS

The Online World: Way Scarier than the real one

My favorite phrase in Hope’s post is: “social networking modesty”.

Erring on the Side of People

My name means “hard worker”.  For someone who places a high value on relationships, I still need Kelly’s reminder often.

Extremely Long, Completely Scattered, and Containing Curse Words

I think that pretty much sums it up!  Honest.

My Black Son Can’t Take Your White Daughter To Prom

The perspective of this pastor’s wife stopped me cold.

HUMOR…

The Over Achievers Are At It Again

Warning: this post contains some bad language.  It was a reality check for me though!

Grace, No Shows, and Forgetting Kids

***Parallel Processing

Parallel process is a clinical term used to describe the common occurrence in therapy when the therapist’s own experience is reflected in the client’s. It is when a client comes in grieving over the loss of a loved one while the therapist has only just experienced his or her own loss as well. It is a therapist helping a client through feelings of anger and hurt that the therapist has also just recently confronted.

But, here’s the thing: we are all in parallel process. Too often in life it goes unsaid.

Here is where I say it.***

Grace is the middle name of my middle daughter. That’s pretty much what grace is for me: the center of everything.

For some grace is a definition memorized: “unmerited favor”. For others it is something you say before you eat while holding hands with your family. And, for some it is a personality or behavior characteristic that means you don’t trip very often. You are either born with it or you aren’t.

For me, grace is a sigh of relief…when someone extends it to me or, better yet, when I extend it to myself, I can relax. I do not have to be perfect. I can mess up and still be loved. I can have a bad day, be weird, have a dirty house, stumble over my words…and at the end of it all…still get a warm hug and an invitation to come back any time.

Grace has boundaries. It is loving and kind and firm. When a person makes a mistake, grace doesn’t necessarily say: “Its ok. Don’t worry about it,” because that comment isn’t very honest.

Responding with “Don’t worry about it” isn’t necessarily grace. It doesn’t own up to the mistake…

…but it doesn’t own up to the forgiveness either.

Grace says: “I appreciate the apology. I forgive you. “

That comment, like grace, can also be difficult to receive.

Grace gives a hug or a smile that says: “I know that this mistake is not who you are. I don’t expect it to happen again. I will love you and treat you as if it will never happen again.”

It is my desire that grace permeate my relationships…including my various professional ones.

As with most offices in some sort of health care, from time to time a person will forget to show up for an appointment. Is this frustrating? Sure. I would be lying to say that it isn’t. Good clinicians have good boundaries. One of my boundaries is a fairly typical one in that I still charge for missed appointments without a 24-hour notice. Why? I have saved that time, usually an hour, just for that client. I am only in the office a certain number of hours a week with a waiting list of other clients who would have loved to come in that hour. With a 24 hour notice I can offer that time to someone…no problem. A no show is impossible to fill.

I am blessed in that this situation rarely happens. I have amazing clients who are very respectful about time.

I also have another policy that I often employ: Grace. Here is what usually happens. The previous client has left, I write my notes for that session, and then I wait. At about five minutes past time I begin to suspect that the person has forgotten. I wait a little longer and when it is fifteen minutes past, I give them a call. Usually they have completely forgotten and are so embarrassed. They begin to apologize profusely.

What happens next usually stops them in their tracks.

I acknowledge their apology. I do not brush it off in an attempt to get them to stop feeling bad. “I appreciate your apology. AND, I know that these things happen. As you know, I usually charge if a person misses an appointment, but I like to extend grace the first time. Would you like to re-schedule for another time?”

Sometimes I am working with hard working perfectionists and the idea that they have made a mistake, that it is acknowledged, and they will still receive grace startles them. They might find it refreshing. They might resent it. They might stiffen. However they respond, it will be something we address in the next session.

If it happens again, I charge. And, that is extending grace, too. It is a boundary that is gracious and says: “I am not going to be ok with you doing this because deep down I know you are not ok with it either.”

My former supervisor said it so well: “Don’t forget. Scheduling and payment are therapy issues, too.”

Here is the thing about grace…you cannot give it to others in a healthy, meaningful way, unless you are able to receive it and allow it for yourself.

Giving grace to clients and helping them give grace to themselves has taught me so much about allowing God’s grace for me. I see people who are hard on others because they are so hard on themselves.

I carpool pick up with a friend and family member whose children attend the same elementary school. It was the last day of school and I was helping with the “end of the year” party. It was my day to take home my daughter and her cousin.

I walked into the party and said to another mom and friend: “I can’t forget to get Eloise’s cousin when we leave today.”

Guess what?

You guessed it.

Read on for the cringe worthy details.

I picked up all of the party material and told my daughter to gather her things. I told her teacher goodbye, which was a little emotional for us because this teacher had been very special to Eloise and to me. She had been MY first grade teacher, too. I was in her first first grade class and Eloise was in her last first grade class. She was retiring.

As I left the building I knew I was forgetting something. I could not figure out what it was.

Several minutes later I was home and got a phone call. As I saw the school’s number come up on my phone I remembered what, or rather WHOM, I had forgotten.

In a panic, I pushed all three of my kids, some half dressed, into the van and we quickly drove back to school to pick up a sweet little boy. On the way his mom called me.

Now, tell me how YOU would feel telling a mom that you had forgotten their child at school and that he was one of the very last children there waiting in the office wondering where his ride was?

I was mortified.

I took my friend’s son home and when he got out of the van, just like my clients, I started to apologize profusely. I was so embarrassed.

I don’t remember what the mother said to me. I was in such a state of humiliation. I do know that she forgave me.

I also know that I had to own up to the fact that I messed up. I goofed.

I drove home so very painful of that reality.

I am an imperfect human being.

It’s not that I just LIKE grace and think it is a nice thing to have around and it makes life a little neater and bearable.

I NEED grace. I NEED forgiveness.

I am desperate for it.

Sometimes I have to be ok saying: “I’m sorry. I messed up”

That is tough. Saying it that forthright.

No excuses.

No qualifications.

No passing the blame.

And, sometimes I have to be ok with the other person being not ok with me for a little while until everything gets settled and some time has passed.

That is grace, too…giving them space to not be ok for a while.

That part is super tough.

It is these times, while we are waiting on the grace and forgiveness of others, that we have to rely on the grace and forgiveness of our God. We have to be able to accept it and make room for it for ourselves.

Now, someone please tell me they have forgotten a kid, too!

Watching the Bloom

***Parallel Processing

Parallel process is a clinical term used to describe the common occurrence in therapy when the therapist’s own experience is reflected in the client’s.  It is when a client comes in grieving over the loss of a loved one while the therapist has only just experienced his or her own loss as well.  It is a therapist helping a client through feelings of anger and hurt that the therapist has also just recently confronted.

But, here’s the thing: we are all in parallel process.  Too often in life it goes unsaid. 

Here is where I say it.***

The girl who sits next to me in my statistics class each week looks to be in her late twenties.  I already know from her comments in class that she is working on a Ph.D. in Exercise and Physiology.

I notice that her bag has a picture of a volleyball on it with the insignia from a state university.  I smile.

“Did you play volleyball in college?”

“Sure did. It is what paid for my school!”

“How old were you when you got started?”

“15.”

I must look surprised because she continues.

“I hated organized sports when I was little.  A friend of mine talked me into showing up for the pre-tryout clinic in high school.  I loved it!”

She smiles with an air of conspiracy.

“I made the team.  She didn’t.”

I listen as she tells me more about her volleyball career.  I murmur agreements and understanding, sharing a little about my own sport experiences.  I express my hope that my kids will choose to play a sport like I did.

“There is a misconception, you know”, she tells me. “People think that you have to get your kid specialized in a sport from an early age.  Research tells us that just isn’t true.”

I smile and think about how her very own story proves that premise.

I played tennis growing up.  A lot of tennis.  And, if I am honest I have a part of me that would love for one of my kids to pick it up.  We go out and play as a family, but it is yet to be seen if a true love for it will grow in any of them.

It waits to be seen.

I think many of us parents fall for the misconception that this new friend of mine expressed.  We remember how much we loved what we did…or we remember how we missed out on something that we wish we had done…something we wish our own parents had made time for…

and we push.

If you read here you will see that I am a believer in getting kids involved in the community in various activities.  I make it clear that becoming a star athlete is not the goal.

What I am learning is that we have less control over what they “specialize” in than I may have thought.

When I was very, very young my mother took me to violin lessons.  I loved the IDEA of taking violin, but those lessons ended when I cried every time we practiced.  I will admit that later there was a part of me that wished my mother had MADE me keep going.

So, I thought, I am going to MAKE my girls just do it!  There will be no question…we won’t practice HOURS a day.  It will just be a little bit every day and we will keep it up!  They will thank me for it one day!

That’s when the actual taking lessons and practicing part happened.  Turned out that my oldest daughter liked violin lessons less than I did.

Also turns out mom has to do bear most of the burden of the practice and the crying when a child is taking lessons at age four.

We stopped.

My dad took me out to play tennis when I was little.  My first memory of going out with him was probably at about age 5.  As I got older I could not get enough.

In the past I have given my dad a lot of credit for that.  I believed that he made me stick with it…that, in a large way, he created the tennis player that got a scholarship to college.

Then I took my own daughter out to play.  I’ll never forget my oldest saying to me: “Mommy, I think tennis is more your thing than mine.”  She was four.

And, that’s when I realized that it wasn’t my dad who took the ball hopper out to practice for hours at a time all by himself just on his serve.  That was me.  It wasn’t my dad who would call and set up play times with three different people in one day just to practice. That was me.

Sure, parents have to be available and invest time and resources.  Absolutely.  They have to introduce kids to sports in the first place.  But, no amount of money or time invested by my mom could have made me want to hold the violin bow for hours a day.

I have passed the buck to my mom and my dad too many times.

I didn’t like violin.  I loved tennis.  That was about me.  It was not about my parents.

And, this time it is about my kids.

…it is not about me.

Last summer my oldest discovered competitive swimming.  And all of a sudden she’s the one reminding me to put her goggles in her bag, to remember her hair tie,  and which days she has practices.  She’s the one telling me afterwards how she figured out the rhythm of a certain stroke.

She’s no Michael Phelps, believe me, and she might very well change her direction when it comes to a sport or any other extracurricular activity.

She might end up playing handbells. Who knows.

But, here’s what I am learning, what I think I learned a little bit more from my conversation with my new friend who sits next to me in statistics.

I am learning to enjoy watching the bloom that is my child’s life.

I almost called this post “The Unwrapping”, but I quickly decided I did not like that title and here’s why.

In unwrapping a gift we have a very active part.  In fact, if we do not do anything, there is no unwrapping.

We are in control.  We rip off the paper to reveal what is inside.

When it comes to my child that is not my job at all.

My job is to cultivate the ground, to water, and provide sunshine.

God is in charge of the blooming.

In reality, I have absolutely no control over that.

I cannot control whether Eloise, Lillian, Emmett, or Hillary will like the feel of a tennis racquet in their hand.

I can put the racquet there.  I can make time for us to play.  I cannot create passion.  That is God’s doing.

We like to put our hands all over things.  Our culture teaches us to strive and to reach for the top and if a little is good a lot must be better.  If this age is good then even younger must be better.

We forget that Someone else has a role in how things go.

This is when I got a surprising reminder from God.

I’m still blooming, too.

I don’t know what tomorrow or next year will look like.  I have no idea what opportunities or challenges are ahead of me.

I can cultivate the ground around me, provide water, and sunshine.

But, I cannot unwrap my life course.  I cannot force what will turn up underneath all that paper.

I can make choices and prepare.  I can put skills in my hands and make time for practice and experience.

I cannot create God moments or open doors.

That is God’s doing.

I’ll be honest. This idea can cause a lot of anxiety.

It is also incredibly thrilling.

Like riding up the ramp of a rollercoaster, your stomach is a little queasy in anticipation…but then comes the ride…the adventure.

I am learning to cultivate, to water, to provide sunshine…to do my best to prepare and make time…for my children…and for myself.

For SURE all of those things are important.  My daughter will never progress in swimming if I don’t drive her to practice.

But, she has to do the strokes.  She’s the one who has to get in the water.

I am learning to enjoy watching the bloom.

London and Sally

My mother spent the better part of her adolescence in London where she attended an all girls’ school called Rosa Bassett.

On the first day of school each student was to call her name out loud with their given number.  My mother’s number was in the “30’s”, which was a dead give away of her American accent.

Apparently, there were some snickers and from that point on my mother’s speech became unmistakably British.

That is funny for me to think about.  My mother speaking with an English accent.

Anyway, one thing I know: she loved her accent and she loved that school.

My young mother, with her beautiful auburn hair, fair skin, and blue eyes, along with her best friend, Sally Wilson, would run around London, riding Double Decker buses and getting tastes of hard cider at sleepovers because her parents were none the wiser, and neither was she.  Before she had a daughter who played tennis, my mother and Sally would stand outside of Wimbledon, waiting for people to hand out their used tickets to waiting children.

My mother, who never really played tennis, has been to Wimbledon.

That makes me smile, too.

If you sat down and had coffee with my mother and asked her about her life I believe she would probably tell you that those years in London were some of the best of her life.

I believe she would tell you that because that is what she has told me.

And, every time I hear about London…almost every time I hear about those years…I hear about Sally.

Then, without warning, my mother’s father was moved, transferred, reassigned.  The way I have heard my mother tell about this move from London, it was like a ripping.  Her heart, her friendship, her family.  Ripped away.  I think I can imagine a 15 year-old girl feeling this way, especially a quiet fifteen year old who had built her life in this great big world place called London with freedom, double decker buses, and a best friend named Sally.

Friendships are taken for granted by children.  They are assumed.  You meet. You say: “Do you want to be friends?” and you skip off together…doing whatever…it really doesn’t matter.

Friendships come naturally for young children.  You don’t really think about it.  You just become friends!

And, if you are like my very socially talented middle child, you have parents who actually time how many seconds it will take you to make a friend at the playground.  At the indoor play area.  At church.  It is amazing.  I am in awe of her.

I had a conversation with one of my sister-in-laws recently.  She is a gifted teacher and is passionate about the grade that she teaches, fourth grade.  However, she admits, it is a hard, hard year.  It is the year that children discover the have’s and the have not’s.

You come in holding hands, still skipping together…it really doesn’t matter doing what.  Then you do the difficult thing of learning your “place”.

Fifth grade, she says, can actually be easier because you have learned the place. The struggle is over.  But, fourth grade…there is still so much struggling.

Parents are big influences on the friendships of children.  When starting my work with a child and his or her family and doing the initial work of developing a treatment plan with interventions, I will often talk to parents about how they are parenting the child socially.  I am curious…how is the child/teenager involved?  Where do they learn to relate to other children and adults?  Do they attend a faith community? Are they active in athletics or music?

From time to time I will get a blank look from a parent.  Do I think they should get their children involved in things like that?

Well, yes.  I am not out to make a star athlete out of anyone, but I am just following research.  Research indicates that involvement in things like a faith community, athletics, extra-curricular activities of some sort is a good thing for children and teenagers.

There are a variety of reasons why, but here are some of them.  In these places relationship and social skills are developed which breeds confidence.  Activity, particularly physical activity, helps prevent over thinking, which is a contributing factor in depression and anxiety.  When the physical body is engaged, the mind is not doing the hamster wheel-spinning thing that so many teenagers, especially girls, tend to do.

So, we go through and start brainstorming different option for little Mary to try and somewhere in that conversation I detect some anxiety in the parents.

What would it be like for you to take your daughter to something like soccer practice or girl scouts, I ask.  Incredibly intimidating, they admit.  What do you think is going on with that?  Well, I never played sports or was a part of anything like this.  I was never athletic.  I was never good with friends.  I was never…

The obstacle in getting little Mary opened up to the big world out there, the obstacle to injecting some much needed confidence into little Mary…

…is actually the incredible amount of insecurity and anxiety in mom and dad.

Friendships…relationships…move the world around.  Never underestimate the power of a relationship or how you relate to a person.

Mary and Elizabeth were close…and their sons were close.   One paved the way for the other.

Sarah and Hagar were enemies and so were their sons…and their sons’ sons, and their sons’ sons…

I have worked with these clients and wondered about this insecurity, understanding it out of imagination and empathy, but thinking that I really could not relate to it.  I have always been outgoing, ready to try new things.

But wait.

In the past several months I have observed some striking behavior in myself.  Several people have reached out to me.  Do you want to run?  Do you want to go eat lunch?  And I have watched myself get nervous.  I have watched myself hem and haw, making excuses and backing away.  I have been rather shocked by it actually, but I can read the thoughts in my head.

If I go running with you, you might realize that I can’t run that fast.  If I go eat lunch with you, you might realize that I am better at writing, teaching, and working with clients than I really am at just hanging out and being a friend.

Friendships, it seems, can actually be harder in adulthood.

Of course there are the practical reasons we fall back on…the kids and work and life to work around to make friendships happen…but, there seems to be more than that.

We know the have’s and the have not’s.

We want to hold hands and just be together and skip and do whatever, but too much understanding has put people in boxes and places.

But, here is what I tell my clients and what I really tell myself, too.  Yes, friendships, relationships, taking your kid to soccer…it is all intimidating and hard and sometimes way more complicated than it should be.

But, you do it.  You acknowledge that it is hard.  You also acknowledge that it is pretty hard for everyone from time to time even if they seem to have a big smile and a million Facebook friends.

And, those people you see talking to each other? They don’t actually know each other super well.  They just met.  There is no real “in” group.

Yes, there was an “in group” in fourth grade and maybe all the way through college, but you know what?  A lot of those groups don’t exist anymore except for in people’s heads.

You are not excluded.  And, every time you take your child to soccer practice or every time you show up for a bible study or a book club or a musical performance, you are carving out relational space for you, for your children, for your family.

In our money driven society, let’s try this language: you are building social capital…investing in a relational future for yourself and for your children.

You are carving out a Sally and a London experience and you don’t ever have to be ripped away because unlike my mother at that age, you are not a child anymore.

Do you hear me?  I so wish I could look you in the eyes.

You are an adult.

You are not in fourth grade anymore being sized up.

You are you.

And, that is beautiful and someone out there will be so blessed to build a relationship with YOU.

Be you, take your kid to girl scouts or attend a faith community and watch the world unfold gently, sweetly with new life

…or perhaps burst forth with juicy goodness

…around the friendships you forge and create and love and grow.

Because I think London had way more to do with Sally for my mother than it ever had to do with it being LONDON.

Growing Up With You

The James Taylor Concert

The James Taylor Concert

Today on my hour and a half drive back from the University of Tennessee in Knoxville, I was traveling through the radio stations when I heard a James Taylor song. I paused…and then transported momentarily to his concert we attended about six years ago.

Do you remember that summer? I really doubt it, but you seem to enjoy proving me wrong (and so often do) so I’d better ask rather than assume.

We had just returned from our first year in Prague and were visiting my mom in Iowa. We had our first deep fried twinkies. Do you remember that? You ate yours while sitting on Daddy’s shoulders. You were so high up there. I remember worrying that I had not put enough sunscreen on you.

Together that day we knocked off a “bucket list” item by attending the Iowa State fair…and eating a deep friend twinkie.

However, what I remember most from that day is seeing James Taylor on stage…and us …dancing in the back of the outdoor pavilion…your hair all sweaty and curled up in ringlets framing your little face.

We were all dancing…you, not quite three…Mimi, and me. Daddy held your sister. It was so hot. You were so happy.

Do you remember that night, Eloise?

I had you in the middle of a semester in graduate school. Now, I KNOW you don’t remember that so don’t even try to argue with me.

I don’t really recommend doing that. I was young, naïve, and thought I could manage about anything. I didn’t realize I would have to manage everything…without sleep.

But, we made it and I look back on those California years as some of our best. I have such sweet memories of when I would bring you to class with me…sitting you in the bouncer while I listened to lectures. Students would help hold you while I took exams. Other days your uncle Aaron would stay with you while I went to class and Daddy worked.

I wasn’t terribly young when I had you…26. I wasn’t 18, but I wasn’t 40 either.

However, I spend time in academic circles where first children are had in your mid-thirties…not your mid-twenties. So, while in some contexts I was not a very young mother, I feel like I was, in many ways, a baby.

I didn’t wait for school to be over to have you.

I was a very normal, anxious new mother. I was so worried that my imperfections…and there were many…would get in the way of what you deserved. Somehow the fact that you were to be a girl intensified these insecurities. I so wanted to get it right!

It did not help matters that I was studying all of the things that can go WRONG in a family and in a child’s life.

I still remember a dear friend asking me: “Emily, what if God chose YOUR imperfections just for Eloise?”

I could not wrap my mind around this idea. I wanted the best for you. I did not like the idea that I still had growing to do while I was already becoming a mother, nor did I like the idea that God was in that plan somehow.

I wanted you to have a mother who had arrived…who had it all together. I was painfully aware of how far off the mark I was.

Here’s the surprising twist in the story I am just now getting…what I have grown to appreciate…to love…is knowing how much growing I DID have to do.

How much growing I had to do WITH you.

We grew up together…and, I’m still growing up with you.

While I was helping you learn to sleep, I learned how much I needed it, too.

When I was making sure you got your sunshine and play time, I realized how much I needed to play, too.

While you were learning to trust me, I was learning to trust God.

Growing up together, we’ve shared a lot of firsts, you and me, Eloise…firsts that go beyond deep fried twinkies.

No, I didn’t wait on you in order to finish up my life. Nor, did I put you on hold to tie up any loose ends in my goals or dreams, either.

I have been insecure about that in the past, but not so much anymore.

Life just doesn’t stop for motherhood and motherhood really doesn’t stop life…no matter what the media or people without children tell you.

No matter what motherhood looks like…for any one woman…life changes…but, does not stop when we get fitted with motherhood as a new identity.

You just keep going…growing up together. Never in history has life really stopped for mothers. That is another lie that the media portrays to make you feel guilty when the inevitable happens…life happens. And, you just keep going…baby girl at your side.

So, I found out I am having another girl…our fourth, and probably last, baby. I felt her move today for the first time when I was in class for my doctoral program. I immediately remembered another baby I carried in and out of the womb to school.

I remembered and I smiled. This time, I am not afraid for my little girl…for Hillary. I’m not so unsure or insecure. And, that, Eloise, has mostly to do with you. You are a testimony to me. Your strength, your wisdom, your perseverance…who you are…despite me…you are testimony of God’s faithfulness in the midst of our humanity.

We do not have to be perfect parents.

Perhaps my friend was right. Maybe God DID choose MY imperfections just for you, sweet girl.

We are growing up together, you and me. And, somewhere in that, you are just fine. You have and continue to teach me so much…mostly about grace.

So, when they, like they did in my other graduate programs, talk about ideals and standards for parenting and mothering and all sorts of things that can make any mother…especially a new mother…anxious and insecure…I’ll just feel Hillary kick and think of you. I’ll remember that we haven’t followed all of the rules, all of the ideals, all of the standards. I didn’t wait until I had it together. I didn’t put off life, nor did I put off motherhood. Yet, here you are. Wise, kind, strong, intuitive, beautiful.

I chose, without knowing I was choosing, to take you along the life journey…to do a lot of the growing up with you.

Like at that James Taylor concert, I’ve chosen to dance WITH you.

I like to think that maybe we are both better off for it.