RAMBLING THOUGHTS

Here you’ll find miscellaneous topics that flow from this busy brain of mine!

Thrift, Baby, Thrift!

emilyb123Leave a comment

Am I allowed to write a love letter to thrift stores? Why, yes! I can write about anything that tickles my fancy on this blog. My love of treasure hunting is passionate. Just the idea of making a quick stop to peruse the aisles gives me a warm feeling in my belly. Maybe a little weird, I understand. There’s a lot to love about it and besides the thrill of the hunt, I love the common humanity piece that it connects. It’s the reason that, for the time being, I sell on EBay. Let me explain.

Have you ever found a pair of shorts that feel so good when you wear them; perfect fit and length, but they no longer sell them new? Have you had a piece from your favorite set of dishes break? What about a special game you played as a kid at your grandmother’s house and thinking about it brings you such a cozy feeling? I could go on and on with examples. Amazon and other online shopping can meet most needs nowadays and sometimes be delivered the same day, but reselling websites and secondhand shopping can provide certain items that are hard to get or quite unique. 

In addition to just finding that replacement dish or pair of shorts from two seasons ago, buying this way can just bring simple joy! Imagine finding a watch that looks just like the one your grandfather wore or a beautiful piece of vintage fabric that will add character to your home. Not everything that glitters is gold. New is sometimes necessary, but not always the best. To sound like a stereotypical “older gal”, they just don’t make them like they used to. Isn’t that the truth?! 

If you take away the thrill of thrifting and being able to find treasures from long ago, you also have the environmental benefit of shopping secondhand. It’s especially great for kids’ clothing! They wear clothing for such short seasons during their growing years. I’ve always wished I could do a “Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants” on my daughter’s clothing to make them fit me because they are so cute. The majority of her wardrobe has been secondhand because I love brands like Mini Boden and Matilda Jane, but don’t love those price tags, especially for such a short amount of wear time. Rhea Lana Consignment Sales are wonderful for this. Search to see if they host one in your area!

It’s not everyone’s cup of tea and I know some feel it’s a bit gross. I get that. I’m not buying and wearing other people’s old nundywear, but most everything else is on the table. I do my best not to think about that ghost story I read in middle school about the girl who dies in the graveyard after wearing a secondhand party dress, but I digress…

If you’ve made it this far, it’s because you love me and tolerate my excitement, are really bored and have nothing else to read, OR you love thrifting as much as I do 🙂 Thanks for reading. Happy Shopping! 

Dear Dad,

emilyb123Leave a comment

Dear Dad,

You’ve been gone from this earthly life for 365 days. Some days it feels fresh and others I even forget you’re gone and it catches me off guard. Because our relationship was difficult for the last few years of your life and our interactions intermittent and emotional, I’m beginning to think my grief processing was delayed. It has been felt a great deal more over these last few months. I have been confused. It’s alarmed me because it comes in strange ways. I have been making choices out of sadness or fear, but also beginning to use those experiences for finding paths towards self-improvement, which I think you would be pleased with and want me to continue. 

To know you’re gone forever here is strange. Recently I could picture and almost feel what it was like to hug you. It was eery and so very sad for my little girl spirit. As most people say, whether in real life or in the movies, I do wish I could hug you one more time; to move your glasses away from your neck and hear you say, “I love ya” in my ear. I can see the tanned skin of your scruffy cheek and feel the firm stomach pressed on me as we hugged. Dad, if I knew that snowy day last January would be the last time I’d get to hug you, I would have stayed for hours. I would have asked you so many questions and just snuggled up next to you on the couch. 

I really miss what could be. Just today when I visited the post office, I saw a little girl with her Papa. A couple of weeks ago I stopped a grandpa in the grocery store that was with his granddaughter to tell him how wonderful it was that he could spend this time with her. Dad, you would have been such a wonderful Grampy! You would have loved to sit on the couch and let my little Rachel entertain you. She would dance and sing and you would get that grin that let me know that you were content and so happy. My sweet boy is playing basketball and I know you would be at his games and watch with pride. You would shoot hoops with him in the driveway. You missed so much before you left and I’m sad to think of all you will continue to miss.

You met God through hard times while you were here. I think you are there with Him now and are sensing His pleasure in you, regardless of any and all mistakes you made here. I believe you are with your brother, Steve, and that you gave him a tight hug when you first arrived. I believe you are with your Mother and that she is so beautiful that you are somehow seeing her with new eyes. I believe you are at rest; oh, that amazing, soothing and freeing rest that we both crave. Although I have sorrow that comes because of what could have been, I have hope that I will get to hug you again someday. Plus, there’s still laughter to be had. When I first started this letter, I had a typo and initially wrote, “Dead Dad”. That’s funny right there. 

I miss you, Dad. 

Let’s Go Brandon??

emilyb123Leave a comment

What started as a live television interview goof, the “Let’s Go Brandon” phrase has infiltrated the conservative political world and become a way to express deep frustration over the current United States Administration. I am truly amazed at how quickly it’s been embraced and become commonplace, especially among the Christian community. I feel incredibly frustrated by it, too. Is the fast pace media-driven world an excuse for such “accepted” and blatant disrespect for the leader of our country? When did things change so rapidly that this is now allowed by the same political party that prides itself on honoring our country and its rich history and not to mention its Christian principles?
This post is written to the grandmother who is driving around town with both her grandchild’s Christian school logo and “Let’s Go Brandon” bumper sticker on the back of her car. The same car that carries the grandchild’s backpack and sports equipment. This means OUR KIDS THINK THIS IS ACCEPTABLE. Ha! It’s a funny goof where the tv host thought the crowd was cheering for the race car driver, but alas, they were cheering as disrespectful of a phrase as I can think of for the leader of our country: F*uck Joe Biden. Do you think our kids aren’t going to figure out what the heck it’s actually meaning? Are we ok with our kids thinking that we’re ok with speaking a phrase like that about anyone, much less our President? Even as I type this on my computer and my sweet little girl happens to read the title of it, I’m flustered and redirect her so that I don’t have to explain it.
An excuse I recently heard was that the Democratic Party used to berate and say disrespectful things about George W. Bush all the time. Then there’s the obvious excuse that “The President is terrible and leading our country into the ground.” Although I’m filled to the brim with my own sin nature and poor choices, as a Christian/Follower of Christ, I don’t think these should ever be excuses to speak and share words like these. I am well aware of how this could make me sound like I need to get off my high horse or maybe that I even need to wake up to the reality of how bad our President really is. I choose to speak my thoughts regardless. It is tacky. It is disrespectful. It is sad. If you consider what Jesus would do under the circumstances, I believe he would speak boldly, yet calm and direct. I believe He would be consistent in his actions and naturally “take the high road”. He would be modeling how to respectfully stand up for what he believes is good. WORDS HAVE POWER.

So Long, Farewell!

emilyb123Leave a comment

Today is January 1, 2022. I’m intentionally writing this morning to reflect on anything I’ve learned in 2021 and desires I have for this new year. I hope not to do so in a dramatic way with lofty ambitions and rose-colored glasses. If we never stop to consider how things are going, I bet we’re likely to just keep on doing more of the same. Maybe that’s good, but it also makes a lot of space for poor habits to continue settling into our bones.

2021 had grief, sickness, new opportunities, relationship strains, medical advancements that balanced health, big changes, maturity, travel, a move, reconnections, and therapeutic conversations. I purposely bounced between positive and negative in that list because it’s LIFE; an up and down marathon. When I consider the more difficult experiences, it brings up things I’d like to work on improving. For example, with the loss of my father this year, I realize even more how valuable the opportunity is of still having my mother. One of my values is quality family time (see ACT, Acceptance & Commitment Therapy, for more), so in order to practice living with that value in mind, I want to prioritize more intentional time with my Mother. I haven’t run that by her (hi, Mom!), but I hope she’s ok with it. The one simple value of quality, intentional family time can pour out into my everyday life in many ways and can have a domino effect. 2021 certainly brought me wonderful insight into how revolutionary value-based living can be (I found this rather simple and helpful resource, if you care to learn more).

My best friend uses a word of the year, which I began last year because of the influence its had in her life. Last year I chose GRAY in hopes of choosing to better accept uncertainty and the unknown. Although it did not serve as a dramatic guiding light for me, I can look back and see several areas where I began to practice accepting things as they are and recognizing when my expectations were out of line. I give great credit to the counseling I’ve been a part of this past year.

I have had two words bouncing around in my mind over the last several weeks as I think about values, goals and changes I want to make. BALANCE & PRACTICE. They uniquely tie together in a way I’ve never considered. I have spent years beating myself up for my lack of self-discipline and motivation. I would try to use self-control when it came to alcohol and social media, or attempt self-discipline with household tasks and exercise, but I continued to fail. Failing to me meant not doing it perfectly, every time, on a regular basis. Just yesterday I heard an analogy using a donkey and carrot. If we want a donkey to follow our lead, we can use a carrot or a stick; both will get the donkey moving, but which do you think he prefers?

My hopes for 2022 include PRACTICING BALANCE in living a life that is VALUES BASED. For me, that looks like:

intentional time with my children

quality family time

gentle care for my body and mind

prioritizing my relationship with and learning about Christ

organization in my home

closeness with my husband

serving others

being brave in making and developing friendships

engaging in the creative arts

If you’re not a fan of setting New Year’s Resolutions, I hear you. As I grow older, I’m seeing the frailty in those type of goals. I would encourage you to consider what is most important to you; not just goals, but what would a nourishing, valuable life look like to you?

I wish you much joy and the peace of Christ, dear reader. Happy New Year!

This Thanksgiving Day

emilyb1231 Comment

I’m wearing a cozy sweater and puffy vest right now and taking in delightfully crisp weather on this Thanksgiving Day. My view entails a multitude of fall colors in the trees and those leaves already fallen, the light reflecting off the lake with shades of moss green from the depth, along with a faint whiff of firewood burning (or maybe that’s my own clothing that’s oozing of it from the last couple days of campfire smoke). A family reunion of sorts is occurring this Thanksgiving Day and I am with some of my most favorite people in the whole wide world. Cool weather makes everything feel a little better. Cozy sweaters, wool socks, puffy vests, pumpkin pie cooling…these are indeed a few of my favorite things.

 It doesn’t mean that I feel pure joy in every moment of this season, but rather that I feel moments of immense joy that spur me on towards the next moment and the one after that. With influencers pushing the magic of the pumpkin spice that make things appear practically perfect, sometimes it can feel like we’re doing something wrong; like we should be jumping in piles of leaves without a care in the world. Life doesn’t stop for us though. Thankfully, we can practice gratitude and often be surprised by how helpful that can be to encourage us to move through the ups and downs. The author/artist Ruth Cho Simons reminded me today on Instagram of this truth. She said, “Tell your soul what to do. Rehearse what to do, not just what you feel.” This doesn’t say “slap on a fake smile” to me, but rather be gentle and simply practice (it’s become my favorite phrase in working towards health) gratitude. I shared her post to my page just in case I had friends that needed to hear it, too. You can feel both: the icky and the delightful. It’s a gift to recognize that it’s ok to do so.

My gratitude bucket overflowed this week. I certainly had grumpy, tired, dog-barfing, disposal clogging, dead dad sadness, and constipation woes, too, but the cozy moments were dabbled enough in between. I’m thankful for the family we spent time with this past week, from a camping trip to a lakeside family slumber party. I’m thankful for the bright green patches of grass poking up from under a thick layer of brown and gold crisp leaves. I’m thankful for the remains of a charcoaled fire pit that brought silly jokes, belly laughs and plans for future gatherings of cousins. I’m thankful for the boat dock that held a dozen family members snuggled and relaxing, a wirey-haired puppy dog, and chilly fingertips being periodically warmed by the sun.

I’m deeply grateful for my Auntie who speaks words of life to me. She whispers in my ear as she hugs and they are things I didn’t know I desperately needed to hear. I’m thankful that I had the opportunity to finally meet a long-lost cousin and see him meld in with us almost as though we’ve always known him. I’m thankful for the hope of future reunification of family members. I’m thankful for the comfort of my mother, especially as I feel the permanency of losing my Dad, and that she lives close to me so I can regularly know that comfort. I’m thankful for my step-Dad, that has smoothly moved into the role as one of my children’s grandfathers. I’m thankful for the mix of conversation, both silly and reflective, that I have with my cousins and wish I had hours more. I’m thankful for my little brother, especially as I hear him in conversation across the room refer to me as his sister, because it makes me feel the sacredness of that title and reminds me of how glad I am that we have each other. I’m thankful for my beautiful sister-in-law and her peaceful nature that oozes out when around her.

Even though I’ve spent a great deal of time in very close quarters to my immediate people and worked through whining, dirty socks and stinky toots, I’m feeling cozy gratitude for the opportunity to love them. I’m delightfully exhausted from this weeklong trip, but also ready for the Christmas season that has now begun. I’m ready to welcome in the stressful moments, frustrating disappointments when I’ve let my expectations get the best of me, and will look for and practice carrying a spirit of joy, whether I feel like it or not. Will you join me? 

Xoxo, Emily

10 Things I Hate About You.

emilyb123Leave a comment

Hey, girl. I hope this doesn’t hurt your feelings too much, but some people don’t like you (sigh. or me). I know, right? Some people get annoyed with the way we talk or dress and shonuf don’t think our jokes are funny. It sucks, I know. I’m 42 (or am I 43?) years old and I still try too hard to make them like me and care too much whether they do or not. I worry if I said the right thing or if I said the wrong thing or said too many things. Honestly, by the end of interactions like these, I feel worn out! As I reflect on this overthinking habit, sometimes I get frustrated with myself that I care so much. I’ve written about this before, so clearly it isn’t an easy habit to shake, but I’m not letting this one go. 

I’m going to take you back old school, circa 1991. I’m a 6th grade student at Lincoln Middle School with a mean permed mullet. Walking into school one day, I was confident enough to wear a rather vibrant pair of shorts. They were lively with abstract colors and design. Within a matter of a class period or two, I heard a comment from a fellow student about how ugly my shorts were. Well, that was the end of any confidence I was carrying in my Jansport. During my health class, the assignment had something to do with writing a reflection in my journal. Because I can sometimes resemble a packrat, I kept this journal and ran across it years later in an attic purge. What I was reminded of and sometimes even consider impactful in my decision to become a teacher, was the kind note scribbled at the bottom of my entry. Sadly, I don’t even recall the teacher’s name, but she validated how that must have made me feel. She encouraged me to be confident being myself and finally, jotted a “P.S. I really like your shorts!” Mind you, I doubt my 11-year-old brain truly trusted or took to heart the stylistic opinions of an “ancient” 30-something woman, but her thoughtfulness influenced me nonetheless. 

Words have power. We tend to cling to the crappy ones and they tattoo themselves to our brain, but I have a game plan. Let’s practice not caring (even though we often still will). Let’s practice wearing the piece of clothing or accessory we really like, but typically hesitate in case someone will think it looks dumb. What about sending the text about hanging out even if we worry they might be annoyed and only say yes out of obligation? Maybe even the most important thing might be the way we talk to ourselves with those worries that come after an interaction with someone. Even though it may feel uneasy or strange, we can try making space for the uncertainties of others’ opinions of us. Maybe I did blab too much about XYZ. It’s possible they think the sparkly bumble bee earrings were a bit much. They might not have invited me to that get-together because I’m loud and unpredictable, but WHATEVS. It is really tiring to get all of my ducks in a row to make sure I don’t rock the boat of their approval or upset the apple cart filled with their “Like” button. Here’s all the evidence: Life is too short! We should listen more to our favorite colors, activities, and accessories. I believe we will ATTRACT healthy relationships with others by practicing healthy relationship with ourselves. Say the thing. Stand up for something you think is good. Does your heart feel a tiny bit giddy when you see that karate cat t-shirt? Wear it, girl! Practice talking freely, sharing stories or comments that come to mind. We have to PRACTICE being us and taking the chance that it won’t win over everyone’s approval. Luckily, as I said already, we already know not everyone will anyways. Whew. What a relief. (Wink, wink. That’s me practicing.) 

We Will Never Forget

emilyb1231 Comment

Today is September 11, 2021. It’s been 20 years since the terrorist attacks on our country. Every year when this date rolls around, I feel a tug to watch footage from that day, to remember. I don’t know why exactly, since it does nothing but bring about a heaviness in my mind and gut, but yet, here I am, pausing the television to write my story and reflect, before I again, hit play and travel back in my mind to that day in my life. As a college student finishing my last semester and internship with a group of 5th graders, I had no clue what was happening or how it would affect us. We flew by the seat of our pants in how to best address such a frightening time with the young children I was teaching. How much is too much? How must my parents have felt with me being away from home during such an uncertain time? I was barely an adult, feeling both terribly alone, yet closer than ever to my fellow American citizens, as we were dipped into a vat of common humanity like never before.

I often consider 9/11 to be similar to the attack on Pearl Harbor in the way Americans of different generations feel and respond to its anniversary. Unfortunately, because of my age, I have often dismissed Pearl Harbor as something “from the history books”. I wasn’t alive at that time, so it hasn’t had the power over me that 9/11 does and will likely continue to do. I feel disheartened by the idea that the September 11 anniversary will be skimmed over, like an advertisement post on social media, but I understand why it is so. Because of this, I see now that I feel an obligation of sorts, to pause and remember. I don’t want to forget.

What does this mean for us, as Americans? Why pull ourselves back into that pain? I firmly believe by doing so, we are honoring and showing respect to every single life lost, those impacted by loss, by trauma, and by chronic pain brought on by the rescue mission. I also feel it can help us with perspective on pain, compassion, and the honor of being an American. We were so vulnerable on that day and the many days to follow. It felt frightening to move about our everyday lives with the uncertainty of what was to come. It also brought a pride in my country and feeling of comaraderie like I have never felt before or since. Although our country is torn and heightened with fear, I want that reminder of what is possible. I want to pause and reflect on how many Americans were driven into service because of that day twenty years ago. How many families were affected both on that day, but since then as they have protected us from further terrorism? I want to pause and consider how difficult it must be to carry the task of leadership in our country, especially on an anniversary like today. Thank you, Families of Lost Ones. Thank you, Americans. I hope we will never forget.

Surrender to the Flow

emilyb123Leave a comment

You know those moments when you hear a phrase of some sort and it stops you in your tracks? It often happens to me when I’m reading and I’ll underline it. Sometimes it’ll get transferred into my notebook or journal, but over my lifetime, it’s few that lodge into my brain for future recall. I do love those (the good ones, at least), especially when they pop back to the forefront right when we need it. It’s certainly the benefit of memorization of scripture, so that we can “bind them on (our) heart always” (Prov. 7:3).

Recently, my husband was watching The River Runner documentary on Netflix which is about a group of hardcore kayakers taking on some of the most dangerous spots in the world. I only caught bits and pieces as I walked through the room, but towards the end I stopped for a watch because of the stunning beauty and sounds. The subject of the documentary, Scott Lindgren, was reflecting on his life-changing experience of having been diagnosed with a brain tumor and how it changed his perspective and the way he approached things. He said, “I tried to control everything in my life. And once I realized, with my tumor, that I had no control over that, I just surrendered to the flow of life.” Now, I know the dramatic music playing to the slow-mo wave crashing action played a part in my having the “stop me in my tracks” feeling, but I took that phrase, “surrendered to the flow of life”, and visually applied it to my own life.

One of the areas I continually try to weave into my everyday mindset is practicing being mindfully aware of the thoughts and feelings that might try and set up shop in my mind. Generally, these are the stinky or condescending ones and I’m often unaware of their impact. Sometimes though, I can notice them and try to visually let them float down the river in my mind. Yes, I’ve created a safe, cozy little creek in my mind and the thoughts or emotions can be labeled on a leaf that bobs on down at its own pace. Because of this cozy creek of mine, I can see why the powerful river analogy felt so profound.

As I’m typing, I’m reminded of my trips to Adventure Island as a girl. I absolutely love water parks, but I’ve never been keen on too high or too fast, so I was never a Tampa Typhoon type of gal. Even with the simple slides, if my bathing suit bottom picked up a notch in speed, I was pushing out my arms to slow my roll. It was an automatic response to when things felt out of control. How similar that is to moving through life! The weaving pattern of life is similar to gravity on a water slide; we can do our best to slow things down or hide away from trouble, but it’s just plain inevitable that we will keep moving. Are you even aware of how often you’re trying to push off the slippery sides of life? I found Scott’s statement so profound because it felt so freeing. In fact, just a few sentences later, he said, “I no longer try to control the outcome to anything. I just show up with my heart. And it gave me so much freedom.”

So, as usual, this post serves as nothing more than a personal reflection that I hope may help me with more awareness and maybe be encouraging to someone, somewhere, in this World Wide Web. May we both begin to practice surrendering to the (inevitable) flow of life.

Father’s Day Tribute

emilyb1232 Comments

Tomorrow is the first Father’s Day without my Father alive. It’s strange and heavy. Just in the last 24 hours I’ve thought of handful of questions to which I know he’d have the answer or could add detail. Thoughts and emotions about him tumble in at miscellaneous times and often choke me up. I hear from others that this is quite normal and doesn’t necessarily have a time limit. 

To honor my Father today, I decided to share my words from his funeral a few months ago:

“Many of you here have experienced the loss of a parent. Depending on the circumstances, there are many emotions that can come and go. It’s strange to feel so many ways and to have emotions pop up suddenly or stirred by the most seemingly insignificant trigger. Last week as I thought ahead to this weekend, I found myself excited for a moment because one of my favorite cousins and his family along with my brother and sister-in-law would be in town, but then almost immediately I was met with tears because I could imagine just how incredibly happy the healthy version of my Dad would be to see this same group of people and all of you. I can see his grin. I could imagine the short, one-liners he’d have that often caught me off guard and made me smile because I knew he was comfortable and happy. I know many of you know that version of my Dad, too. 

With the sadness that comes with loss, there is a feeling of wrongness, one that says we shouldn’t be experiencing this pain. One of the few benefits of disappointing struggles in this life is that, not only can it humble us, but it can also bring light to an often ignored truth which is that this human life is not meant to be easy or pain-free. As a believer in something bigger and greater than myself, I decide each day to trust that there is meaning behind each disappointment. I came across two quotes this week that highlight this truth. 

C.S. Lewis, a man that found himself determined to prove that the God of the Bible did not exist, yet ended up referring to himself as the “most reluctant convert in all of England” has said, “We must stop regarding unpleasant or unexpected things as interruptions of real life. The truth is that interruptions are real life.” 

Also, a former pastor that planted churches in New York City, who is currently going through treatment for cancer said about he and his wife, “To our surprise, an encouragement we have discovered is that the less we attempt to make this world into a heaven, the more we are able to enjoy it. No longer are we burdening it with demands impossible for it to fulfill.” 

When recently I wrote about the passing of my Dad, I purposely did not skim over the hard stuff; the icky and sad stuff about his struggles. Although his death was initially deemed “natural causes”, we decided to go forward with an autopsy just in case we found helpful information. Although I didn’t have great concern that his death was anything other than natural causes, the morning I received the call from the pathologist with initial findings, I felt an odd calm after learning that he passed from a heart attack from 95% blockage and a contributing bleeding ulcer. I don’t know what the afterlife is like, but I began talking to my Dad as I drove down the road. I told him how thankful I was that he didn’t commit suicide and that he had essentially chosen to “hold on” when it was especially dark for him. Although he told me once that when it came to going against God’s will, he was a coward, I know he also didn’t want us to experience the same heartache as he did with his brother’s death. It was one of, if not the, hardest experiences in his almost 70 years. 

Life is hard. It’s filled with great joys and incredible highs, but it’s hard. We each walk our own paths through this life while having different genetics, heritage, circumstances, brain chemistry and opportunities. My father may have been dealt a challenging hand, but I do know he made the best of it by pushing through and taking full advantage of opportunities. I would describe him as a classic self-made man who started in the air conditioning field and produced a very successful business, of which my husband and I are incredibly grateful to now own and grow. He was not perfect, but he was giving and compassionate and clever. As I think all parents do, he wanted his children to have a better life than he did; better opportunities to go to college and pursue dreams. I remember him telling me to find something I love doing and make that a job. 

My brother and I have begun to see some of the enriching qualities that we’ve received from my Dad. Unfortunately for my outgoing Mom at times, the three of us are very similar; introspective introverts with a splash of ADHD. We enjoy being with friends and family, but need that recovery space afterwards to decompress. Loud and crowded events are not our forte! 

Although we feel very grateful for those wonderful qualities, we also see opportunity in the ways we’d like to do things differently and I know he would agree. One area in which my father was especially weak was admitting to internal struggles and accepting help. By being a male and growing up in the generation that he did, I bet it made it especially difficult. Thankfully, the mental health stigma is slowly crumbling, but it still remains an ever-present uphill climb for most. No matter how old you are, there is hope available if you are hurting. My own experience with finally finding a correct diagnosis for my OCD shows me that there is hope, but we must look for it and hold the hand of the one offering it. If you have someone in your life that is struggling with their mental health, the #1 piece of advice I have is to never, ever give up on them. Never stop reminding them that you are there and willing to help them with finding the hope and grabbing ahold of it for dear life. 

The IF-ONLYs about the latter part of my Dad’s life are disappointing. Lately, I hear my kids crack a joke or do something that makes me want to squeeze them because I love them so much, I think that maybe my Dad is watching. Again, I don’t know how things go once the human body dies or how interactive they are with us still here on Earth, but maybe he’s giving that grin that I love so much and genuinely laughing. It meant he was in a good place in those moments. I hope he is feeling completely free of all the heaviness he carried around for so long and is enjoying watching his grandkids from there. Just last night as I was looking at the pictures we gathered of him, I felt waves of sadness because I realized that the way I feel about my children, how I tell them that being their mother is my absolute most favorite thing in the world, that is how he felt about Ty and me. I wish he were here because I know my healthy Dad would knock it out of the park as a grandfather, but that can’t be. 

This life is not all there is. I will see him again, but until then, I will continue to do my best to take care of myself so I can be the best mother, wife, sister, daughter, and friend I can be. I want to continue to make him proud. 

Again, I want to thank you for being a part of my father’s life. If you feel it may have been insignificant, my faith in God tells me that no interaction is without significance, value and purpose. As funerals or memorials like these usually do, our busy lives briefly pause as we consider death and all it implies. Take advantage of the next few hours or days as you contemplate life and death. Although it’s tempting, try not to shove away that discomfort, but welcome it as an opportunity to see how it can impact your choices and interactions with others. You are loved.”

Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I love you so much. 

Are You My Mother?

emilyb1231 Comment

It’s Mother’s Day! I’m typing from my bed this morning with a cup of coffee on my bedside table. A teaspoon of guilt is here with me, but I’m nudging it aside to choose this classic Mother’s Day gift. When I had ideas stirring on writing today, they went in several different directions: the difficult and emotional side for those weighed down by loss or lack of motherhood, the delight of being a mother, and also the challenge of lousy mothers and the generational patterns that follow. Most of that doesn’t sound touchy-feely or smell like the floral bouquet of Mother’s Day, but life is rarely picture perfect. As I do with most of my writing here, I will simply ramble as the thoughts arise. This morning as I listen to the humming of my first-born as he sets the breakfast table, my thoughts begin with the gift of being a mother. 

As a girl, I don’t recall being one that dreamt of being a mother or a homemaker. I was nervous when expecting my firstborn about all of the unknowns of motherhood and dealt with unimaginable anxiety for a significant chunk of his life. For most of that time, it was survival. In many ways, I owe so much to my son because he was a major motivation for me to keep going. With time and then the addition of my second child, I began to very deeply recognize what a true honor it is to be a mother. These two humans were gifted to me and as I personally grow and learn how to better live a value-driven life, they top the list. Although I fail regularly, I want to be a mother who is present, encouraging, and safe. I’m so thankful for the opportunity because being a mother makes me a better human. 

My pastor recently told me he tries to stay away from too much of a focus on Mother’s Day because of all of the heartache that can accompany this day. In addition to the painful loss of a child or a mother, many times there are heartaches hidden deep inside the heart of women; miscarriages or abortions, for example. What if the relationship with your mother is strained or nonexistent? What if it feels impossible to buy just the right card because the dramatic written words aren’t even a little applicable to your relationship? It can be a uncomfortable holiday for many reasons and as I heard in a prayer recently, may there be grace woven into this day and what it means. May there be joy amidst the heartache and patience extended where it’s needed. 

If you have a beautiful relationship with your mother, shout it from the mountaintop! Give them praise for loving you as they do and have done. If you have a troubling relationship with your mother or child, pause for reflection on lessons learned. If you feel grief and waves of sorrow, allow slow breaths to carry you through the sadness. I’m visualizing you having a deep, warm hug right now; the kind that feels cozy and doesn’t quickly pull away.

On my mind lately has been the generational patterns that loom with our parenting. I’ve heard people express their desire to do things better than their parents did and create a healthier environment, and for good reason! I think we should certainly be striving for healthy and growth in this area of raising children. I will also say that it’s important to beware of misaligned expectations and also of the reality of redirecting patterns that have been in place for some time. A generational pattern/sin/habit, i.e. alcohol use, bitterness, pride, anger, lust, can be much harder to break than it looks like. We have all learned and were molded by our circumstances and influences, so make space for grace and patience, if you find yourself with these struggles.

Lastly, I can’t help but think of my own mother, of course.I know that both of my parents had strong intentions of creating a better life for us than they had. Isn’t that the goal of all parents? My mother is brave and carries a take-charge attitude. I struggle with an anxiety disorder. My mother is charming and outgoing in most social settings. I have often been intimidated as hell with small talk. My mother is a go-getter and accomplishes her to-do list with ferocity and little downtime. I get easily distracted by who knows what when I should be sorting laundry. I say all of this to emphasize how different we are from one another. It must not be the easiest to parent a child who doesn’t follow suit. Once we moved through the teenage clashing phase and I became an adult, we developed a different mother-daughter relationship. Although she is incredibly compassionate, when I crashed and burned from anxiety and depression, she had to learn how to have a different kind of patience and compassion for someone struggling with a mental illness. I have seen small bits of thoughtfulness in her asking to help me or researching diagnoses online to learn more. She’s my mother and she loves me. With the death of my father a couple months ago, I am even more aware of the relationship with my mother. I am very thankful for her. I am very hopeful for even more closeness as we continue to age and as I raise these beautiful children of my own. Thank you, Mom. I love you.