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Archive for April 2016

letters to my daughter . 042916


My favorite thing about your style, Baby Girl? It’s YOURS!

letters to my daughter . 042816


Every day it gets harder to wait for summer. It’s harder to take tests. Harder to sit still. Harder to wake up early. Harder to have your time always scheduled. Sometimes I think we just have to declare an afternoon of summer even though it’s not quite here yet!


letters to my children . 042616


It’s getting harder to concentrate on school for my little ones. We’re about a month away from the end of the year, and it just gets harder. Plus, this is the time of year when they are testing… state tests, reading tests, writing tests, in addition to the regular weekly tests. It sometimes seems like they are in a constant state of evaluation, and that causes a little stress in their hearts. Part of the kids’ tests this year involve writing assignments. I’m amazed at some of the the things they are learning  — writing skills I didn’t learn until I was much older.

In their classes, the kids are learning about “personal narratives,” and ways to express an idea or an opinion with a story. In essence, they’re learning to express themselves. To tell their stories. They’re gaining tools to do that quickly and with the appropriate language and punctuation. And, I’ve had the opportunity to read some of the results. Their stories. Their ways of seeing the world and describing it. Their take on things that happen to us. And the things they feel are important. I hope they learn to tell all their stories.

letters to my daughter . 041416


Always. And it’s true, lasting beauty.

letters to my daughters . 041216


We’re citizens of the smallest world there’s ever been. It’s so beautifully small that our different ideas and beliefs and lifestyles and even dreams brush up against each other every day. Sadly, all too often I think we let that small world convince us we serve a small God. I’d rather help Baby Girl learn to play to the bigness of the God who spun this ball into existence. And let her own love and capacity to serve and bless match the bigness of the one who made her.

letters to my son . 040516


I wonder if they need to hear this. I’m certain they do. And I often grieve that I’m the one they hear it from. In these words… “would be.” I stay awake at nights sometimes wondering if they have this sense of void. The unfilled space in their hearts where a Daddy would fill. I wonder how much they remember. And if in their memories, they hear the words. I wonder if my saying them is a poor substitute. Or if it can somehow reach in and touch the gap.

My oldest earned his Arrow of Light in Cub Scouts last night. It’s a two-year process that he’s enjoyed, and worked for. And one that has taken me out of my comfort zone. When he said he wanted to join Cub Scouts, I felt this huge wave of anxiety. I didn’t know how to do that. But, with the help of great leaders, we did it together. I think about those experiences, and know his father would have enjoyed them. And, I wanted him to hear it… “I’m proud of you, son.” I wanted him to hear it in his heart and carry it with him for always. Stored up for those times when he needs to know. When he needs to know the joy he brought to his dad, and the joy he brings to me. Just by breathing.

letters to my daughter . 040416


Pretty please.

letters to my daughter . 040116


Well, it was a perfect April Fool’s Day experience. Only, I fooled myself! This morning was another example of why my children sometimes look at me, shake their heads, and say, “you’re crazy.” My 3rd grade, Bug, has been gearing up for the regional science fair after he won first place in his category at school. We made some additions to his board this week, and arrived at Humphrey Coliseum at 7:30 this morning with board, scientific notebook, and sundry time-killing books in tow. To find that the regional science fair is actually next Thursday. Yep. I overshot it by six days. Bug sunk into disappointment that today would actually be a regular school day instead of a fun science fair and date with Mommy day. Except not a really regular day since he would have to get a tardy slip, after all. Not the end of the world. I hope. And to my attempts at cheering him up with “now, you’ll have book club to look forward to,” and “at least we were early for science fair and not late!” — making lemonade, and all — he promptly replied: “yeah, like we’ve ever been early for anything.” My 9yo. Spot on again.

So, today’s letter is to my son, Bug. With all the appropriate humility, regret, and a bit of giggling thrown in.

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