Image

Author Archive for haley montgomery – Page 34

letters to my daughter . 032116

012116

It’s fun to listen to my children. Their hearts and their thinking processes all come out in a cadence of rushing words and thoughtful pauses as they try to articulate whatever is exciting them at the moment. Sometimes, it takes some patience to follow along. And sometimes it requires hanging on for a high speed chase to try and capture all their ideas. Sometimes, if I’m honest, I’m not all that interested in the topics they choose. When you get right down to it, I don’t really care about the box jelly fish Maggie discovered that can send a person to the hospital with a single sting. Or about the latest Super Smash Bros battle and which weapons they earned when they leveled up. Sometimes it doesn’t really matter to me how many trap doors they’ve built into the floor of their Minecraft monster prison. No, the details don’t always matter to me. But, the sound of their voices does. Knowing that thing they’re excited about in this moment matters. Hearing the words they choose to describe and explain and detail all those little personal pursuits and interests matters. It matters to how they see themselves and how they see me. It matters in helping them know that their voices count. Their thoughts matter. Their heart — and whatever it’s pursuing at the moment — matters.

This week, I noticed something when Baby Girl was in one of her seemingly constant streams of explaining this or that. More than once she said, “I’m sorry. I know I talk too much.” Somehow and somewhere she’s gotten the notion that she talks more than she should. It’s possible she heard that from one of her brothers. It’s possible she’s been corrected for talking at the wrong time at school. Or maybe she inferred it from a time when I said, “Mommy can’t listen right now.” Regardless of how she’s internalized the notion, I don’t want her to second guess the power and importance of her own thoughts and her own voice. I don’t want her to apologize because she has a lot to say, or because she has the gumption to say it out loud. I never want her to feel she has to apologize for speaking the excitement in her heart.

letters to my daughter . 031116

031116

Happy rainy Friday, friends!

letters to my daughter . 031016

031016

letters to my daughter . 030916

030916

This week I have been amazed seeing photographs of the so-called “Super Bloom” in Death Valley, California! Because traveling to California over the next few weeks isn’t on our calendar, I’ve been binge searching photos of the Death Valley landscapes and information, and I’ve been so intrigued by the phenomenon. I mean, how can you not love something called a “super bloom”, right? An area that owns the designation of the hottest, driest place on the North American continent has been exploding in a surge of wildflower bloom carpeting the desert since January — something that only happens every decade or so! Scientists believe that the increased blooming in this normally dry area occurs during El Nino years following a surge in storm activity, including unusually heavy wind and rains. Typically the wildflower seeds lay dormant for months or years in such barren soil, but they are brought out of slumber by the watering of the storms. What a beautiful example of how perseverance leads to flourishing. Sometimes the most torrential storms can produce the most amazing seasons of blooming. Maybe I’m just hankering for spring flowers, but I want to capture that season and make it stay. I want to show and teach my children that storms and struggles don’t have to lay waste to fertile ground. No, very often, they can usher in a new surge of life in what we may have thought was a dead and barren land. Today, I just want to say to them (and to myself), “keep rocking that Super Bloom!” Don’t let the storms keep you silent and still and stagnant! Stay living and growing! And let the storms produce an even more vibrant season of blooming.

letters to my daughter . 030816

030816

Spring! It’s the season when everything around us seems to start coming to life again. The “flower trees” (as my children call them) in our front yard are starting to bloom — the whites of the Bradford Pear and the purples of the Redbud. It’s almost like the branches are stretching themselves out after the long winter, reaching as high as they can toward the sun that’s helping their buds open. I hope I’m teaching Baby Girl and my boys to do the same. To keep reaching, even through the cold and rainy times. To keep growing and stretching and learning and blooming.

Divider Footer