Letters to My Daughters: Persevere

Dear girls,

When you were very young, we used to drive to Texas every summer.

With your cousins and your grandma.

Without your dad.

I’m sure you remember those road trips well. Destruction on wheels, I think it was.

The first time we did this, Julia wasn’t even born yet. I think I had four little girls under the age of 8 in my car (Kate, Caroline, Kira, and Paige). (With Grandma. I don’t want to discount her—she was a huge help.)

I do remember a few trips that got a little hairy, but overall, I was really glad we made them. It was one of the few times I could see my sister every year, so it was worth it to pack you guys up, strap you into car seats, load you up with books and snacks and anything else that might help keep you quiet. This was, after all, in the years before we had a DVD player in our car.

*shudder*

Funny thing was, when I would tell people that I was driving my three very young girls (and sometimes their cousins and grandmother) all the way to Texas—by myself!—people looked at me like I was crazy.

“Why would you do that?” they would ask. Like they’ve never imagined doing . . . anything.

Others would simply say, “I would never do that.” Like I was crazy or something.

Over Thanksgiving I had to make the trip by myself again. (And, well, with the three of you.) No Dad.

Now, granted, you are all much older and much more well-behaved in the car than you used to be. And you could help me out with the driving.

[May I just stop here and say that back then, in the mid-90s, I could never, ever begin to imagine the day when you girls would help me with the driving. How did I get here?]

Even before we left for Thanksgiving, knowing that your dad wasn’t driving home with us, I dreaded the trip with every fiber of my being. But the point is, I didn’t let the daunting trip stop me. It was too important to me. To all of us.

And I think there’s a lesson here.

Yes, Texas is a LONG drive from Chicago (16 hours back when you were little). And, yes, it’s HARD to take three little girls on a road trip that long by myself. And, yes, sometimes I didn’t want to do it.

But in the end, I was so glad I did it because the reward of being with family was so worth it.

My dear girls, is there something in your life that you want really badly? Maybe it’s a job. Maybe it’s an experience. Maybe it’s just to get through whatever difficulty you’re going through right now.

Whatever you want, here’s what I have to say: Go for it.

Don’t let the doubts of others stop you.

Don’t let your own doubts stop you either.

And certainly don’t let the anticipation of a long, hard journey stop you.

Because those naysayers? They’re just life-suckers, out to suck the joy or the fun or the adventure out of your life because they don’t have any in their own.

Don’t listen to them.

Just put one foot in front of the other, take it one step at a time (or one mile at a time, to continue the analogy), and you will get there.

I guess if I were to sum it up in one word, I would say: persevere.

One day, after lots of your own small—and large—accomplishments, you’ll look back and see that you were in the driver’s seat all along.

I was just the navigator cheering you on.

Good Reads

A few favorites from recently.

Secret Somethings: 10 Gift Ideas for Cultivating a New Tradition :: MODsquad blog. This is where I post once a month--great blog that you should definitely have on your reading list! I loved Elisa's idea here--it's such a practical way to look at gift-giving.

No pictures allowed :: It's Almost Naptime. Missy and her family are in Africa, in the process of adopting a daughter. This post is about the pictures that the government WON'T let you take, but Missy paints the picture for you. All I can say is, wow.

At Last :: The Gospel-Driven Church (at the Gospel Coalition blog). Such fun photos of grooms seeing their brides for the first time. And great advice from the writer's dad about what happens if you fall out of love with your spouse.

Cheddar Tailgating Bread :: Tasty Kitchen blog. Oh my. Yes!

Don't Undersell Your Commute :: Desiring God blog. Sometimes my "commute" is walking the dog. Other times I'm in the car, waiting to pick up kids. Here's a great post challenging all of us to spend our commuting time differently this week. I'm in. Are you?

Now tell me . . . what were some of your favorite posts from this week? Feel free to share a link in the Comments!

My Top 10 Favorite Children's books to give for Christmas

I think I may have a problem.

It's a good problem, I think, depending on how you look at it.

And it's a problem I may have passed on to my children. In fact, I KNOW I've passed it on to my children.

It's books.

I grew up loving books. I still love books.

Especially children's books.

Here is just one of the shelves of my built-in bookshelves--the one of the several that houses children's books. Sadly, they aren't all mine--many belong to my girls, which I will explain in a minute.

Here are some of my books from when I was a little girl.

I have a few favorites. Like this one:

Anybody else remember Katy and the Big Snow? I know my girls remember it because I used to read it to them on days when we had big snowstorms.

This one, Shoes for Angela, isn't a classic, but I received it as a gift when I was young, and I read it over and over and over. This truly was one of my favorite books when I was a girl. I think it might have started a fetish.

And how many of you learned to read from the Dick and Jane books? I know I did! Somehow I snagged a first edition from 1938--goodness, my dad could have read from this very book--which is one of my personal treasures.

The very coolest thing about this Dick and Jane book? I taught all three of my girls to read using this very copy. I love it so much.

As you can see, my love for children's books goes way back. I wanted to instill a love of reading and of books in my girls from the time they were very young, so I decided that, rather than give them an ornament for Christmas every year, I would give them each a book.

Thus, the rather large portion of the bookshelf that doesn't belong to me.

Each year I try to choose a book that has some special meaning for them. Each girl gets something different, although I have duplicated a few books over the years. And, of course, I write the year and maybe a little note in the front of the book.

Just in case you'd like to start such a tradition with your children (it's never too late to start!), here is a list, in no particular order, of some of my favorites.

1. Guess How Much I Love You by Sam McBratney. A classic. Every child should know this one by heart.

2. Kate and the Beanstalk by Mary Pope Osbourne. A book about a brave young girl named Kate. Hey! I have one of those!

3. Love You Forever by Robert Munsch. I gave this book to Caroline when she was in first grade because she told me that her teacher had read it to the class and it made her cry. I cannot get through this book without shedding a tear.

4. Just the Way You Are by Max Lucado. Actually, any book by Max Lucado could make my list. This one just happened to be within easy reach.

5. Olivia by Ian Falconer. I think it was Julia who requested Olivia one year. It just fit.

6. Grandpappy by Nancy White Carlstrom. A very special book for a child who really loves his or her grandpa. Nancy White Carlstrom is one of our favorite authors because, not only did she write the Jesse Bear books, she also attended my alma mater.

7. O.K., this one might not be as great as the original, but it's still pretty good. I gave it to Julia the year she learned to read . . . from the other book.

8. Home for Christmas by Jan Brett. Another one of our very favorite children's authors. We spent hours poring over her books, just enjoying the detail of her illustrations, when my girls were little. Any of her books would be great for your kids.

9. Someday by Alison McGhee and Peter H. Reynolds. It says this book is a NYT #1 bestseller, and I can see why. I came across this book a few years ago as Kate was getting ready to graduate from high school. When I read it in the bookstore, it made me cry. When we passed it around at Christmas, there was not a dry eye in the room.

Have someone leaving home soon? Get them this book. And a pack of tissues.

And just for fun, here's the back cover of the book:

Now you know what I mean?

10. Finally, I have to include this special book for even the big kids in your life. The Gift by R. Kent Hughes and Ron DiCianni tells the Christmas story in beautiful artwork and description. It also includes calligraphy by Timothy Botts. I got this book because Kent Hughes was my former pastor, but as I've read it over the years, it makes the Christmas story become so much more meaningful to me.

Each chapter is illustrated by one of DiCianni's beautiful paintings.

So there you have just a small taste of what's on my shelf. Sadly, that shelf will soon start getting more and more sparse as my children leave my house. I know that one day these books will be packed up and placed on a new bookshelf in a new home, and, really, it couldn't make me happier. I know that I have given my girls the gift of reading, of happy memories, and of home.

And, hopefully, they can pass along their own love of books to their children someday.

Now tell me, do you have any gifting traditions in your home?

Linking to Amanda's Weekly Bloggy Reading Link-up at Serenity Now, Richella's Grace at Home party at Imparting Grace, and Kelly's The Parent 'Hood at Love Well. Go check out these wonderful blogs!

Thanksgiving and the last hour

I’m back from a glorious Thanksgiving with my family.

I got to see my sister pregnant for the first time. So sweet!

And I got to spend Thanksgiving with my entire family. If you’ve been around here in past years, you’ll know that Thanksgiving, while my favorite holiday of the year, has been a bit of a bummer for me. Normally, our Thanksgiving plans consist of just the five of us, so when I think about creating a beautiful meal, setting out the good china and silver, and having just five people around our table, it doesn’t set quite right with me.

So we’ve resorted to eating out. Still, a bummer, but better than the alternative. I think.

Anyway, this year was awesome. For so many reasons.

The week before we left, I had already started to dread the drive home. B wasn’t going to be able to drive home with us because he had to fly from Dallas to a business trip. I knew I had to make the 900 mile drive myself with the girls. Thankfully, I had two more drivers, and Julia was willing to help out in a pinch (*wink wink*), so I knew we’d be fine.

But the drive. Ugh. Nine hundred miles is just a LONG WAY.

We made it. In fact, we cruised. My girls are awesome travelers—lots of early training—so they just hunkered down and didn’t complain at all. We only made quick stops to go to the bathroom or to grab some ice cream, but aside from that we just didn’t stop.

We made the trip in 14 hours. Very nearly a record.

(Never let it be said that my small bladder is to blame for longer road trips. We managed just fine, thankyouverymuch.)

Anyway, somewhere along the way I had mentioned to the girls that the last hour of the trip was the worst for me. I knew the road like the back of my hand, and because of that, I just wanted to be HOME.

I also knew that, statistically, the last hour of the trip was the most dangerous. People put down their guard or something like that.

We had just passed what is, for me, that awful point where I feel like I can’t take it anymore—about one hour from home—when I noticed that the cars on the other side of the road were beginning to back up.

“Hey,” I said to the girls, “Check out the traffic on the other side of the road. We must have missed seeing an accident because the traffic is really backed up over there.”

There was probably a 2-mile traffic jam, but then traffic was moving again . . . for about a mile. Suddenly, we came upon fire trucks, ambulances, and police cars almost completely blocking the other side of the highway. Again. 

This time the accident looked serious.

We were marveling at the traffic—commenting about how these poor people would get through one terrible jam, thinking they were free of it, and one mile later come upon another back-up that was just as bad, if not worse, than the first—when all of a sudden we saw a THIRD crash. This time it was just a rear-end situation, probably common when traffic slows down suddenly, but still, three crashes in a stretch of about five miles.

We were amazed . . . and so grateful that the accidents were on the OTHER side of the highway and not on ours.

Needless to say, I gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and slowed down just a bit.

One of my girls said, “Can you imagine having to sit in that mess? I feel sorry for the people further on down the highway—they don’t know what they’re about to go through. I feel like we should warn them or something.”

Now, I’m not one to over-spiritualize things, and I didn’t feel the need to point this out at the time, but the lesson was obvious to me and I kept turning it over in my mind for the rest of the car ride.

Here’s the thing. If you knew that your friend, family member, or co-worker was headed for a figurative traffic jam of epic proportions, wouldn’t you want to warn them?

Wouldn’t you want to say, “Hey, you’re heading down the wrong highway and you’re going to get caught up in a real mess. Try taking a different way.”

And yet, I have friends whom I know are headed down the wrong highway. I wonder, have I warned them? Have I spoken these exact words into their lives? Have I lived in such a way that my life speaks to them of an alternative route?

The last hour. It’s haunting. It’s dangerous. It’s tiring. And it’s the most important hour of the trip.

I'm not sure I'll ever look at a traffic jam the same again.

Happy Thanksgiving

I've been thinking over the past year and all the many reasons I'm thankful today.

Thought I'd share.

For him.

And her.

And her.

And her.

For this amazing opportunity.

And for this one.

And that this didn't have a different outcome.

For these and every other blessing, God in Heaven, I thank You.

The Great Bathroom(s) Remodel of 2012

I promised I'd give you some sort of explanation as to why I haven't been around much this fall. It may not be a good excuse, but it is an explanation of sorts.

We've been remodeling! Two bathrooms, sorely in need of a facelift, finally got them this fall. The project took a little longer than we expected and cost a lot more than we originally thought. Isn't that always the way with house projects?

First, let me give you a little background.

Our home is old. Well, the foundation of our home is old--it probably dates back to the 1940s. It has been remodeled and added to in stages over the past 20 years. We have lived here for 14 years (last week!), and we've loved every minute of making our home our own.

We also love the history of our home because some dear friends of ours lived here before us and put the second story on it. Plus, we learned at some point along the way, that some retired missionaries lived here for a long time and prayed fervently for our neighborhood. Isn't that cool?

About seven years ago we put a pretty big addition onto our home (kitchen, family room, screened in porch, and master bedroom/bathroom), but we left two upstairs bathrooms untouched. They seemed fine to us at the time, and they worked just fine for our kids.

Over the years, things in those bathrooms have, shall we say, fallen apart.

Cabinets were getting a little . . . worn.

The mirrors were showing signs of age.

The tile was starting to come off the countertops, not to mention the crud that just wouldn't go away.

And the doors of the cabinets wouldn't even shut properly anymore.

And, most embarrassing of all, who knows how long we had lived with just the arm of a towel bar? We kept replacing the towel bar, but it kept coming off the wall. I guess we gave up.

We knew these bathrooms really needed attention, but you know how it goes . . . there's always something else that also needs to be done. (Like the furnace we replaced last year.)

But we have a lot of out of town guests, and those guests use these bathrooms. One day, B walked into the bathroom Julia uses and walked out disgusted. He had had enough. Our bathroom situation had become embarrassing!

So we decided that we really had to do something.

And something we did. We gutted both of them and replaced everything. 

Here are some before and after photos for your enjoyment.

Worn out, dilapidated cabinets replaced with new cabinetry from Restoration Hardware.

Nasty, plain white everything replaced with a walk-in shower and custom shelving (made by our contractor).

Before: linen closet in the corner. After: built-in unit made to match the cabinets in that bathroom.

Old stock vanity replaced with Restoration Hardware sink base and solid marble top.

Old single-handle faucets replaced with shiny new Kohler faucets.

Remember, we did two bathrooms. One, at the top of the stairs, is smaller and got the weathered wood cabinets. The other is our old master bathroom (before we added a new master) and is the bathroom Julia uses now. She gets displaced when we have guests stay with us.

Here are a few more "after" photos for you.

This is the bathroom at the top of the stairs (um, hello Me in my sweats!).

Restoration Hardware cabinet and marble countertop.

View from the tub. There's a small linen closet on the left.

Our builder thought of making these shelves from some of the extra marble. I love them!

Lighting was a bit of an issue, so we decided to go with a big mirror and mount the sconces right on the mirror in order to double the light. 

This is Julia's bathroom, but also the guest bathroom (and the old master bathroom).

View from the shower.

The cabinets in here were also from Restoration Hardware, but we got the marble somewhere else.

This is a close-up of the open shelving unit that our builder made for us. Didn't he do a great job of matching the RH cabinets?

Finally, a couple of details I especially liked.

The Kohler "Flip Side" showerhead. My kids specifically requested a detachable showerhead. I also LOVE the tile work in this bathroom.

Another shot of the tile work and corner shelving in Julia's shower.

I know, I know, I didn't actually do ANY of the work, but the project still took a lot out of me. I did quite a bit of running around to pick out tile, find marble, choose cabinets, and select plumbing fixtures. All of this took time when I wasn't teaching.

So my fall was basically this. It was worth the time, the occasional frustrations, and the *gulp* money.

And now our bathrooms are ready for anything . . . or any one.

When are you coming to visit? *wink wink*

Good Reads

Seems like all I can do these days is pass along other people's good writing rather than my own. Oh well. Life.

But I'm working on a bit of an explanation post as to what's been occupying much of my time and, sadly, my thoughts this fall. Next week. Maybe.

I promise I'll get my act together around here. I want to. I really do. I love you all and your kind words and your I-miss-you's. Thanks for those. Until then, here are some posts I have loved this week.

My blogging-turned-real-life-friend, Glenda, spent a day just planning for the busy season ahead. I have never thought of doing such a thing, but I sure would love it. In fact, I probably NEED a day like this. Preparing for the fast approaching train called . . . THE HOLIDAYS!!

Richard Stearns, author of The Hole in our Gospel, challenges the Christian church (well, me really) to put aside our worry about symbols and just start doing the gospel. "While symbols can be important, we have focused perhaps too much on them instead of the underlying reality they reflect. Instead, we need to go back to the basics of living as disciples of Christ, living missionally for Christ and demonstrating the Gospel in tangible ways within our schools, workplaces and communities."  Wow, what a challenge. Goodbye, Christian America; Hello, True Christianity.

Got an extra $14 a month? Sector 30 -- Breaks me.

Oh, I have so much to say about this, but Ann always says it so much better than me. Read it, please. You may need some Kleenex. How to Not Miss Your Real Life Calling.

There you have it. A few of my faves from this week. I'm off to church and then to the city with B and Julia to see Les Miserables today. Enjoy your Sunday!

Good Reads

O.K., this will have to be quick because 1) I can't find my glasses, and my computer screen is juuusst about as far from me as it can be, and 2) B and I are headed out to a football game. Maybe. If the rain stops.

But I just can't let the weekend pass without giving you some good reading. I mean, just in case you actually can find your glasses or, better yet, you don't NEED glasses to read that itty bitty computer screen, or you're stuck in your house for some reason.

So here goes.

The Main Problem with Giving Our Kids the Easy Life :: We Are THAT Family. So much wisdom from Kristen. So much.

Evil Turned to Good :: Music From My Heart. Linda was my bff in high school. Little did we know then the road that God would have her travel. This is just a bit of her amazing story.

How to pray for the college-age kids in your life :: Pensieve. Yep. I'll be using this one. A lot.

November Book Club - Breakfast at Tiffany's :: Southern Vogue. This post is written ABOUT, not BY, my niece, Kira. Isn't she cute?! Boy, can than girl throw a party!

And while we're on the subject of parties and fun and all things frivolous . . . have you seen this blog?? What Kate Wore is all about the beautiful clothes that Kate Middleton wore for various occasions. So much fun!!

Finally, you must read this: Life . . . Lived by Privet and Holly. Suzanne has written a beautiful tribute for Veteran's Day. Definitely go here.

Have a great weekend!

Ignoring the Ugly

I’ve been trying to figure out why I haven’t felt like writing lately. It’s not like every single day I don’t say to myself, Hey, You. It’s been a while. Why aren’t you writing?

I could blame it on the lack of sunshine. My goodness, we haven’t seen Mr. Golden Sun since Hurricane Sandy hit the East Coast. Not that the hurricane would have anything to do with the sun shining here, but it seems like that’s about the last time we saw the sun.

I could blame it on my classes. As I sit here, forty papers are staring at me, just begging to be graded. And when I have grading to do, I feel like I really shouldn’t do anything else (like read a book or write) until that job is done.

(Except, of course, watch T.V. It seems like T.V. watching equals acceptable procrastination in my book.)

I could blame it on houseguests, but really, having houseguests is fun for me. And besides, they left a week and a half ago. You’d think I could get my act together.

I could blame it on the construction we’ve had going on, but to be honest, the construction guys didn’t distract me one bit. The mess did, but the workers didn’t bother me. I could have been writing.

In fact, I should have been writing, and yet, I haven’t been. Why?

I’ve been pondering this all week.

Today, however, I think I realized something, and I think writing about it might help get me over this writer’s block.

It’s called conflict.

I avoid it, usually.

But lately it’s been hard to avoid the conflict in my life. It’s all around me—stuff at work, stuff at church, and then there was this thing about an election that has everyone slinging all sorts of ugly all over the place.

I guess I’m tired of the ugly.

And when the ugly comes out, I tend to withdraw, to not even know what’s wrong with me, not to mention what to say about it. I retreat into my own head, thinking, mulling, grousing over all that’s going wrong (including the lack of sunshine!) instead of praying, submitting, surrendering as I should.

The ugly probably isn’t going to go away anytime soon. We’re dealing with human beings here—human beings who want their way, who want to win at any cost, and who feel threatened when their way of seeing things is challenged. Thus, the ugly.

So, in order to get back into writing, I have two choices to make. I can choose to continue the downward spiral, participating in the ugliness around me and ignoring all the goodness in every day. OR, I can choose to ignore the ugly and participate in my life, including writing, with a spirit of thankfulness.

Seeing as Thanksgiving is right around the corner, I think I’ll choose the latter.

The Many Questions I've Been Pondering Today

I’m not a great multitasker.

Just ask my kids. They’ll tell you I cannot . . . 

•       talk on the phone and check email. Too distracting, on both ends.
•       drive and listen to the radio. (Just kidding on that one!)
•      read when there’s music on in the room.
•       walk and text at the same time. (I’m NOT kidding on that one!)

All sorts of hilarity will ensue if I try doing too many things at once. Which is strange to me because when my girls were very little I could . . .

•      change a diaper on one while giving a bath to another.
•       make dinner and read books at the same time.
•       feed a baby while baking cookies. 

Multitasking must be a skill that God gives to moms of young kids—you are all Wonderwomen!—but somewhere along the line I lost this skill. My girls became self-sufficient multitaskers themselves, able to handle all sorts of things at once.

Me? I’m happy to focus on one task at a time, oftentimes wishing I could do more. (That walking and texting thing would really come in handy.)

Sometimes, however, multitasking has its drawbacks.

Take, for instance, times when you’re with a friend who constantly checks her phone while she’s supposed to be talking to you. Not fun.

Or when the person in the car ahead of you is driving five miles an hour UNDER the speed limit because he’s on his phone. The worst!

This morning at the gym I saw some astounding multitasking that has left me scratching my head. It’s not the first time I’ve seen it happen—in fact, where I work out, it happens a lot.

I saw a man on an elliptical machine reading his Bible.

Like I said, I’ve seen this kind of multitasking behavior several times before. These people are probably thinking It’s early. I need to exercise, but I also need to read my Bible. Hey, I know! I’ll do them both at the same time.

But here’s what made me stop and wonder this morning. When people exercise and read the Bible, are they reading the Bible just for the sake of getting it out of the way? Or are they reading the Bible carefully, prayerfully, and thoughtfully?

I know what my answer would be. And I’m sure I can’t answer for the man I saw on the elliptical this morning, but I’m wondering . . . what do you think?

Does it give God pleasure to see us using our body, mind, and spirit at the same time?

Or does God feel like we’re just checking Him off our list when we multitask our Bible reading?

Comments, please!

Here's Why I'll Never be a Blogging Rock Star

I have a life.

Simple as that.

A life that sometimes requires being a mom and at other times requires me to be someone else's mom.

(Just kidding about that last one--it's just that my job sometimes feels like I'm about 40 other people's mom.)

A life that requires me to be a wife.

And a friend.

Take this week, for instance. Last Friday, after meeting with 40 students over three days, I, along with my students, officially made it to Fall Break. The relief I felt at 2:00 p.m. Friday afternoon was palpable.

At 2:01 p.m. I switched hats. The "Professor" hat became the "Mom" hat. Just like that.

I didn't even feel a thing!

And for the next four days I was just Mom. Nobody asking me about their Argumentation papers; nobody wanting to hash through their audience; nobody wondering what "choppy" means. I was just, blessedly, Mom.

My two college girls came home for Fall Break, and we had fun doing absolutely nothing. We ate lots of good food; we watched the original "Father of the Bride" movie in the middle of the afternoon (an indulgence, indeed!); we shopped; and we just hung out, enjoying every minute together.

Yesterday the girls went back to school, and I hurried to clean up the house because a dear friend from college was coming to visit. [Fun side note: we were on the same floor our freshman year--that was over 30 years ago! I'm so thankful for our school and the friendships I made there.]

So my friend is here for a couple of days. Tomorrow she leaves, and my freshman year roommate, Jennifer, is coming for the weekend, bringing her darling daughter with her for . . . wait for it . . . her college interview! Hopefully E will be here next year and I can get Jennifer to come visit more often.

[Second fun side note: I'm always telling my girls that they will be friends with their college friends for the rest of their lives. Jen and I are living proof. I sometimes imagine that Jen and I will be old and gray and still getting together, laughing about how silly we were in college. Who follows people on their dates anyway? Who would do such a thing? Seriously.]

Have I mentioned that it's hunting season? B leaves tomorrow for a long weekend away.

Basically, my front door should look more like this:

than this:

I don't mention any of this to complain. I have the gift of hospitality, and I love to use it. It brings me such joy when my house is full of friends and family, especially daughters.

Why I DO mention it is to reaffirm, once again, that blogging, for me, just HAS to take a back seat to real life. Because real life is full. Real life is fun. Yes, real life is hard sometimes, but a blog can't hug you when you need it or smile at you when you walk through the door.

For me, real life is the thing. And while I love blogging and have no plans to stop, I refuse to let it rule me.

And that, dear friends, is why I will never be a blogging rock star.

I obviously won't be around here over the next few days, but please check back next week when I'll have more to say. (Better yet, sign up to receive updates in your email box or reader.) Or, come Monday, I might just go to bed for a while. My students will understand, won't they?

Now tell me. What makes YOU a blogging rock star? Link your favorite post from the past couple of weeks in the comments.

Good Reads

Some recent posts that I've liked, loved, or that have made me think.

The Gift of Time :: Privet and Holly. Suzanne really hits close to home with this post, writing about things that really matter. I love her heart.

Exhaustion is not a status symbol :: The Washington Post. An interview with Brene Brown about her newest book, Daring Greatly, which is on my reading list . . . if I could ever get it in my local library. This message isn't just for people in the workplace; it's just as useful for moms at home.

My Drug & My Defense :: Shana Nyquist. And another post on busyness. (Are you sensing a theme here?)

Dear Moms, Jesus Wants You To Chill Out :: The Blazing Center. This post was criticized a bit this week, but I get what the author was trying to say. It's what I've been trying to say to moms, too.

Dear Moms, Jesus Wants You to Run :: The Gospel Coalition. Another take on the above post. I get this one too.

The Key to Good Meetings, Marriages, and Probably Kung-Fu :: Jon Acuff. Be available. Yes. That.

And finally, not having anything to do with the theme of the week, but a post that made me laugh:

America's Slippery Slope into Britishisms :: The New York Times. I'm guilty of a few of these, and so are some people I know.

Happy Sunday!

Letters to My Daughters: Keep Believing

Dear Daughters,

I read this on a blog recently: “In the faith-fueled race of holiness, some days you will run well and some days you will run out of steam.”

I wonder if I’ve ever warned you that this will happen. That some days you’ll be flying high in your faith, so in love with Jesus, and knowing, just knowing, that you’ll be faithful to Him forever.

And then the other days come. When it’s like putting one foot in front of the other, trudging through your faith walk like your boots are made of lead. You wonder how you got here, so little left. You’ll wonder how you’ll get out of it. Or IF you’ll get out of it, this little pit you’ve dug.

Know this, dear girls: you will run out of steam in your journey with Christ. Way back in the 16^th century, a monk named St. John of the Cross talked about his “dark night of the soul”—a time in his life when he felt he was having a spiritual crisis.

Novelists have agonized over it; poets have despaired about it. Lives have been triumphant, and lives have been ruined because of each individual’s response to their own “dark night of the soul.”

Have I told you? Following Jesus is hard some days.

Why do you think Scripture addresses it so much? Both the author of Hebrews and the apostle Paul talk about our Christian walk as a race, but it’s not a sprint—it’s more like a marathon. The Bible tells us we need endurance, not just resolve.

I want to encourage you today to endure. Why?

Because He is worth it. First and foremost, following Jesus is about Jesus Himself. He is beauty and wonder and majesty and grace all wrapped into one perfect person. Make Him your life, your entire life, because He is so worth it.

Because your life depends on it. Life lived without Him is not a life, it’s an existence. Sure, you can exist here; you can make money, get married, have children, travel—all that—but not really live. Because without Jesus you have nothing. Own Him and you’ll be worth more than the finest treasure.

Because your children need you to. I know, I know, you don’t have kids. You probably won’t for a while yet. But really, not only your future is at stake here; the future of your children, whenever they come along, depends on whether you keep at it, this faith thing. Have you ever thought of that? So many times I have seen parents decide He’s not worth it—that their own lives or their own happiness is more important than Jesus, and their children suffer. Tremendously. Keep trudging because they need Him, too.

Girls, I have no simple solutions to the hard days because I have them, too. But I want you to know that life is more than following our own passions and desires. In fact, true life, a life worth living, is lived for the sake of another.

On those days when you run out of steam, keep trudging. Keep seeking. Keep praying.

Keep believing.

Other "Letters to My Daughters" in this series:

Introduction

Take a Stand

Letting Go

Pressure

Be a Giver

Will you join me? I’d love to have you come along on this adventure. Feel free to follow me via RSS feed or sign up for email updates in the sidebar.

Linking this post to The Parent Hood at Fried Okra. Pop on over there to see other parenting posts!

Fabulous Friday Food - Brussels Sprouts with Bacon and Apples

Well, hello, Fall!

And hello, Fab Friday Food!

You know things are bad around here when I haven't written a Fabulous Friday Food post since August. And the one before that was in June.

Just ask my family, that's about how long it's been since I've gotten anything close to creative in the kitchen.

It's sad, really.

Lately my argument has been that I'm still getting used to cooking for three since two of my girls are off at college. Or that it was too hot this summer. Or that I'm busy with teaching.

Yada, yada, yada.

Excuses, excuses, excuses. Lately I've become the Queen of Excuses when it comes to cooking meals.

And all of this is so strange for me because I love to cook. When I have time. When I have ideas. When I have motivation. When the stars are aligned and all's right with the world.

Not really. I DO love to cook. And I have no idea why I haven't been more motivated over these past few months. Let's just call it an anomaly and move on, shall we? I'm good with that.

Moving on . . .

Now it's Fall, and I'm heading toward having just a modicum of motivation. Cooler temps will do that for me.

But I'm starting out slowly--not overdoing it with the cooking thing. (Truly, what have we eaten over the past three months? I have no idea!)

A couple of weeks ago I decided that it really was cool enough to break out one of my favorite Fall/Winter recipes: Brussels Sprouts with Bacon and Apples. (My mouth is watering just typing this.)

Don't think you like brussels sprouts? Neither did my family until I tried this recipe. Now they eat those little babies like candy, and that's pretty much what they taste like.

Here we go.

Preheat the oven to 425 and gather your ingredients: brussels sprouts, bacon, and apple. Easy enough for you yet? (In the interest of full disclosure, you will also need salt, pepper, and balsamic vinegar.)

Cut three or four slices of bacon into pieces (about 1/2 inch) and place in the bottom of a baking dish.

Bake the bacon for about 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, trim the brussels sprouts, and cut in half if they seem a little large.

(Yikes! My thumb looks HUGE!)

Once the bacon has cooked a bit, it will look like this.

Add the cleaned and trimmed brussels sprouts to the bacon, and stir it up a bit.

Sprinkle with salt and pepper, and bake these together for about 15 more minutes. When finished they will look like this:

Now add the apples and bake about 10 minutes longer.

When finished, toss the whole thing with about a tablespoon of balsamic vinegar.

I could make a meal out of these little yummies, but I served them with my delicious Herb Roasted Pork with New Potatoes.

What a perfect Fall meal!!!

Click here for a printable recipe page. And enjoy!

Now, tell me ('cause I really need to know) . . . would you like more recipes from me? Do you like Fabulous Friday Food? And one more thing . . . what do YOU like to cook in the fall?

Linking this post to Amanda's Weekend Bloggy Reading link up at Serenity Now. 

Homesick

A student came by to see me in my office yesterday. She poked her head inside and said, “You said I could come talk to you about anything, right?”

“Sure. Come on in.”

She sat in the empty chair next to the round table and poured her heart out about how she wasn’t sure she should be here. She talked about how she went home this weekend and had such a good time with her friends, just listening to music and dancing the way they used to. She told me she thinks about leaving school and just going home to be with her friends.

But then she said, “I know God wants me here.” And we talked about that. We talked about how she has a lot to contribute to this campus and how He has clearly led her here. We talked about how things at home wouldn’t be the same, even if she did leave and head back to her old neighborhood.

Things are just different now.

All of a sudden I realized her problem.

She’s been in school a month; the initial excitement has worn off. Classes and rehearsals and dorm life have become mundane, and it’s still a long time until Christmas. 

She’s homesick.

This weekend I attended the wake (that's Midwest for visitation) of an old friend from home--a woman almost as dear to me as my own mother. B and I drove an hour to get there, stood in line for 90 minutes to greet the family for five minutes, then drove the hour home.

It was worth every minute.

But, since then, I keep thinking about home. The town I grew up in was much too small for me; I didn’t fit in there; I knew God wanted me here. And yet, even now, I get homesick.

Homesickness, I’ve heard it described, is sometimes our longing for something we just can’t put our finger on. We know things wouldn’t be better “back there” and yet the here and now isn’t quite right either.

It’s the future we want, the future we long for.

Homesickness isn’t about going back; it’s about going forward. It’s about finding fulfillment in a place that isn’t "here and now" and that isn’t what has already been.

Homesickness is about all of our desires and wishes and wants fulfilled by something or someone who alone can fulfill them. It’s about finding love and acceptance and peace in the arms of someone who gets us completely and loves us still. It’s about longing for something we just can’t get our hands on here, no matter how far we reach.

As I talked to my student I realized, I’m homesick, too.

Are you?

"If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world." C.S. Lewis

Linking to Richella's Grace at Home party. 

October update

Sitting . . . on my back porch listening to the sound of the wind in the trees and the workers tearing out the bathrooms above me (more on that to come).

Reveling . . . in the glory of Fall—my favorite season.

Loving . . . the Fall arrangement next to my front door. I decided to get creative this year, so I moved a metal bench from the back garden to the front, bought lots of pumpkins and mums, and arranged it all semi-artfully (with a little help from Julia). I smile every time I walk in the door!

Thinking . . . about the lecture I heard last night: John Piper on racism. Intriguing.

Reading . . . Piper’s new book, Bloodlines, about racism. And also, the Bible. I’ve (pretty much) finished the Old Testament and moved on to the New Testament this week. (Have I mentioned that I’m reading the Bible through chronologically this year? Fascinating!)

Wondering . . . if I missed much last night since I chose Piper over the debates. (I’m thinking not.)

Feeling . . . thankful for the friends and family that God has placed in my life.

Not believing . . . what I saw at the end of my class yesterday: my daughter wandering in the classroom door just to give me a hug. I am SUCH a lucky mom in so many ways, and having my girls attend college at the same place I teach is just one of them.

Wishing . . . that this girl was still small enough to snuggle on my lap rather than attending her first Homecoming dance. How did she grow up so fast?

Hoping . . . the weather holds out long enough for us to go to the Homecoming game on Saturday. It’s supposed to get nasty. But then again, if it’s not nice, that means we get to stay home in front of the fire and watch it on T.V.

Hmmmmm. I might need to rethink that one.

How about you? What have YOU been up to lately?

Seeing Rightly: What I Learned from my Cleaning Lady Today

Might I ask you to pray for someone our family loves dearly?

Today was “Beata Day.” The day, every two weeks, that we all look forward to because we know that our dear Beata will come clean us up and put us all back together again.

Yes, I have a cleaning lady, but she’s much more than that to me. She’s a friend who has closely watched my kids grow up, patiently putting their shoes away when I’ve told them a hundred times that Beata’s coming and they need to put them away. She’s the one who knows where I keep the old rags—in a tattered cardboard box on a rickety gray shelf back in a corner of the basement. She’s the one who knows pretty much all about us and doesn’t judge. (I love her for that.)

Over the years she has shared bits and pieces of her life with me in her broken English. How she left her home country many years ago in order to come here, work hard, and make a better life for her family. How she waited four years for her husband to get a green card to come here too. How she left her teenage daughters (I can’t begin to imagine how painful that must have been!), now grown up and married and having babies of their own. How she has missed out on birthdays and weddings and births.

On Sunday, Beata’s parents flew to Chicago from their homeland to visit their daughter and son-in-law—what was supposed to be a fun two weeks. But while still in line for Passport Control in the airport (three hours, Beata said, with no water), her father collapsed and suffered a heart attack. He was rushed to the hospital where he died two days later.

And just two days after that, Beata came here—to work! (I sent her home.)

But we talked for a while before she left this morning, tears occasionally sliding down her cheeks, and you know what she told me? She told me about the plans her parents had for her and her husband. How her parents lived in a really big house, and how their dream was for Beata and her husband to return home in a few years to live with them. She told me that her parents had been married for 48 years and were already planning a trip for their 50^th wedding anniversary. A trip that will never be taken. She told me that it had been seven years—seven years!—since she had seen her father.

I kept nodding my head, holding her hand, telling her how very sorry I was that this happened to her.

Then she told me something that I won’t soon forget: she said, “But I got to see my father.”

You see, rather than focus on all the bad that has happened to her in the past few days (oh, heck, the past few years), she chose to focus on the good: the fact that she got to SEE her father in his last few hours. She got to hold his hand (“He squeezed my hand so tight,” she told me) as his strength left him in the hospital. And although he couldn’t speak to her, his eyes fluttered open every now and then and she knew without a doubt that he saw her.

“I got to see my father.”

Tragedy has struck my friend—real tragedy. Not the kind of thing we think of as our everyday tragedy: our car broke down or my kid’s Homecoming dress didn’t get delivered in time or the grocery store was out of the specific kind of pasta I was looking for. We get frustrated, upset even, when the slightest little bit of our life doesn’t go as planned.

I think they call those First World Problems. They’re all around us.

And they drive us crazy and make us think we’re justified to get frustrated and upset. (We’re not, just in case you were wondering.) We act like our lives should be so easy—that we deserve easy. (We don’t, by the way.) And that these “problems” threaten our very sense of peace and security. (Ask a Christian living in the Middle East about peace and security.)

And when these little irritations happen, we complain. Loud and hard, boy do we complain. We let everyone around us know how bad we have it—so much worse than our neighbor down the street.

Can I tell you something? I get tired of the complaining. I just don’t want to hear about it until you have something worth complaining about.

Like how your father, whom you haven’t seen for seven years, traveled halfway around the world and collapsed before you even get to give him a hug.

That you could complain about.

But you see, the irony of this world seems to be, to me, that the people who deserve to complain never do.

They just look at the tiny bit of good in their bucketload of bad.

“I got to see my father.”

*****

Linking to At the Picket Fence's Inspiration Friday, Serenity Now's Weekend Bloggy Reading, and Richella's Grace at Home party.

Good Reads

Some of my favorite blog posts from the past couple of weeks. I'd love to know your favorite!

Encounter God in the Wal-Mart Checkout Line? Say What? :: Internet Cafe Devotions. What a great story! You'll remember this one for a while.

Miley Cyrus was wrong :: Jon Acuff. Want to change your life and the world? Here's one way.

What Women Need to Say to Each Other . . . because it's what every woman needs to hear :: Ann VosKamp. You are so beautiful.

Designer Babies, Designer God :: It's Almost Naptime! Missy pulled this one out of her archives this week, but oh my! what a powerful post. Reader, beware.

Oh Behave! Conduct Worthy of the Gospel in Corporate Worship :: The Gospel Coalition blog. Interesting thoughts about preparing for worship. Not what you might think.

Most of the Work of Ministry is done by Christians Who Work Secular Jobs :: Desiring God blog. Something I've been thinking about A LOT over the past couple of months. The "secular" workplace is not any less sacred than, well, the sacred. (More to come on this topic, I have a feeling.)

And finally, my absolutely MOST favorite blog post of the past week or two.

True Love Obeys: Why We Abstain from Premarital Sex :: her.menutics. "Although it certainly encourages me in the hard times to believe that God as my creator knows what’s best and is therefore a trustworthy master, I ultimately must obey because he is my master, period." Can I get a hearty "Amen" here? YES! Please share this with any young, single Christian person you know.

Now share. What was one of your favorite posts this week? Feel free to link up one of your own or someone else's in the Comments section.

Have a great weekend! 

Together

Is it true that sometimes we stand together even when we stand apart?

 The days, they don’t always click. The mushy-gushy warmlove, unseen, unfelt.

Some days it’s the dog needs a bath or the furnace needs a filter.

Some days it’s the bills need to be paid and our calendar is out of control.

Some days it’s big decisions and small, all clambering for our attention like a newborn screaming for her mama’s breast.

It’s work and church and responsibilities and commitments.

No time to think or process or just be. Together.

And on those days, the days when we’re not together in mind or body or spirit, I wonder: are we really together?

At a gut-honest level, I do wonder. Some days.

And yet.

I hold the hand I’ve known forever while the pastor gives the benediction because I know more than anything that I need this. We need this.

Hope. Commitment. Love. Joy.

We stand together, comfortable in our stance, side by side, receiving a blessing, and in that moment I know that despite the differences and the schedule and the interruptions of our lives we are just that.

Together.

Procrastination is Bad

Right now I’m trying to teach one of my girls an important life lesson, and the life lesson goes something like this: procrastination is bad.

Really, we might as well call it like it is: it’s bad. It’s bad to think we can “do it later” when right now is all we’ve got.

• Procrastination is deceptive, making you think you have more time than you have. 

• Procrastination makes a mess of your priorities.

• Procrastination keeps you from being a productive citizen. (And good golly, don’t we need more productive citizens these days?)

My daughter keeps trying (and failing) to not procrastinate. She has every good intention of getting her homework done or doing her chores in a timely manner. But for some reason, she struggles still.

I’m trying to help her, to coach her in the fine art of productive citizenship, but I get frustrated with her actions (or lack thereof), not because I don’t understand, but because I understand oh-too-well this habit called procrastination

This bad habit.

Take my day, for instance. Today—today!—I had one priority: grade ten papers. I collected 40 papers from my students yesterday and brought them home from work thinking, ten papers is doable. I can manage to grade ten papers.

Especially since I had not one other thing on my calendar today.

But here’s the thing. I went for a walk this morning with a friend whom I haven’t seen in a while. Much needed—both the exercise and the time with my friend.

After that, I sorted laundry and took a shower. Seriously, both were also needed because have you seen my laundry pile?!

Suddenly, with those priorities out of the way (they really were priorities), I realized that I had to—HAD TO—get to Target. You see, we were completely out of trash bags. Not a trash bag to be had in our house this morning, and you know as well as I do that a household without trash bags is a household in mortal danger of crumbling completely.

So, to Target I ran.

But while I was walking out the front door, I realized that the mums I had purchased last Saturday still needed some attention. You know, black urns would really spruce up my front door. And some pumpkins!

I knew that just down the road from Target was my favorite nursery, so I took just a quick detour. It wouldn’t take long. Just to see how much the black urns would cost.

And the pumpkins.

(Can you believe that one of those urns, which isn’t even cast iron by the way, costs $129?? What a rip off!)

I sauntered over to their huge selection of pumpkins and gourds. Gourds? Why didn’t I think of that? I must take time to peruse their selection of gourds, you know, as long as I’m here.

Have you ever seen an apple gourd? They are so cool! Green, large, and looks like an apple. I considered for a few minutes whether I needed one of those next to my black urn.

I still hadn’t taken a gander at the pumpkins, but finally, a gorgeous display of “fairy tale” pumpkins caught my eye. These are the really cute, interesting-looking pumpkins that, apparently, look like Cinderella’s carriage. And cost as much, too!

Seriously? My favorite nursery just became my worst enemy. Might as well call them Shylock’s for the usury they’re charging.

I hightailed it out of there without buying a thing. But had a very pleasant half hour looking around.

Target was my destination today. Trash bags, remember?

Just get the bags and get home. You have papers to grade, Missy!

But the pumpkins had caught my imagination.

I knew that Trader Joe’s had sold them in the past, and for much less than the nursery, so I decided to head there just as soon as I finished at Target. Those pumpkins would sell out quickly, so I really, really needed to check today to see if they had them.

Priorities, remember?

I trekked to Trader Joe’s in the next town over, only to find that their fairy tale pumpkins had not come in yet. But, of course, I picked up a couple things I needed while I was in there.

After a morning of running around, I finally came home. First I unloaded my Target purchases—those groceries wouldn’t unload themselves, you know!

Next, I threw in another load of laundry.

Finally, I looked at my kitchen floor and decided that today—today!—was the day it needed to be cleaned. Which would involve, of course, moving all of the chairs and stools and rugs in order to sweep, then mop, the floors.

An hour later, my floors were shining like they did on the day they were put in!

It was 2:30 by this time, and the papers had not been touched.

Nor had I eaten any lunch yet. Lunch is important, right? Priorities. I couldn’t grade papers without a little sustenance.

I returned a phone call.

Julia called and needed a ride home from school.

And still, those papers sat, ungraded.

My day has now been wasted frittered away very productive. I have clean, shiny floors, and my daughter is safely home from school, working on her homework, trying hard not to procrastinate, because we all know that procrastination is bad.

Best of all, I now have trash bags.