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Archive for sketch journal – Page 9

letters to my daughter . 090816

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I used to say this to my kids all the time. Back when they were younger and just growing their vocabularies. When they were filled with thoughts, and maybe frustrations, they could not fully express. They had to learn how to articulate their feelings. Like we all do. They had to learn how to speak their minds in ways that could be heard and understood. Like we all do. Today, we still have times when this reminder is important. There are still times when being tired, or over-scheduled, or frustrated makes this reminder come up again. Let’s use our words. I know you’re frustrated. I know you’re tired. I know you’re trying to make me see something. Let’s take the time to use our words. Helpful words. Slow words. Patient words. More words than we think we need. To be sure others can follow along. And, when we are hurt or confused or afraid, let’s find out why. Together. When we think someone’s angry, let’s be brave. And use our words. When we don’t understand. Or misunderstand. Let’s use our words.

We don’t have to go far into the media landscape to see the reckless and callous use of words. We don’t have to go far into our own seas of distractions to find a shocking lack of words where meaningful and honest ones might be life-changing. We live in a culture where daring to bring up the awkward subject or address the emotional elephant in the room is quickly deemed “drama.” Or “TMI.” Or “oversharing.” We live in a culture where it’s easier to turn away and just “block” or “unfollow” or “delete” rather than bear the demands of honest differences. I trying to learn to allow my words to reflect my true values, even if they are uncomfortable. And to create a space in our home where we use our words to make peace.

letters to my daughter . 083016

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Wishing a Happy Birthday to my Baby Girl today!

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It’s birthday week around here, and I’m reflecting on all things Baby Girl. When she was born, the most wonder-inspiring thing for all of us was just that — that she was a Baby Girl. Born into boy-land. And capturing our hearts more fully with each little movement. Since then, I see this so much in her, even in her short eight years. Her bravery. Her willingness to jump right in to chase that thing she has in her mind. Even when she has to drag us along. And convince us. With some of the most challenging things a little girl can face, she just keeps on. Being who she knows she is. So I know. Even in those fleeting moments when she may not feel like it. You are brave.

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The funny thing about growing is that it’s really hard to see from the inside out. I guess we’re so used to our own skin and the sound of our own thoughts that sometimes we don’t notice when they shift a little.

This morning, my oldest and I were talking on the way to school about the schedules for the next few days, and I was trying to encourage him not to feel too stretched with some weekend activities coming up. His young heart puts on a brave face most of the time, but sometimes I see glimpses of the uncertainty coming out. “Mommy, every day I already feel stretched.” It was a small admission of his feelings about how he’s handling a new school year at a new school, being a 6th grader with seven classes instead of four, and several new weekly activities. There’s a lot of new there, and we all have uncertain feelings about change. The thing is, not three minutes before his comments, I was thinking how proud I was of how he was handling the newness and how well I thought he was doing with these changes. He just couldn’t see it for all the fear and concern in his own heart. I was able to remind him of what I see… that he’s growing. That he’s changing. That last year this time and for several more weeks, his struggles were showing a lot more. They were taking over. But this year, he’s learned to press forward and to take little steps to tackle the change. This year, I see more of his strength shining through. I see him growing.

Stronger, braver, taller, funnier, brighter, more curious and compassionate and confident, joyful, creative, and faithful. I see it so clearly every day. Every day I see him growing — and the other two as well. Sometimes we need that reminder of the growth that’s showing through on the outside.

It’s the same for me. It’s been almost four years since Mike died, and life has been moving. Sometimes I see myself as that same scared, newly single mom, overwhelmed by the responsibility and the emotion of all that’s happened. Sometimes I still am that woman. But, if I look carefully and I step outside my own head, sometimes I can also see glimpses of the woman who’s grown stronger and braver, more curious and compassionate. Joyful. I hope these three souls in my care can see me growing too.

letters to my daughter . 081016

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Yeah, carpool. It’s often unpredictable, especially at the beginning of the school year. Plus, it seems to bring out all kinds of stress, frustration and even unkindness in even the most mild-mannered of parents! Our first day of school last week had the typical carpool chaos at Baby Girl’s new school, and even though you know it’s going to be crazy, as a parent, I seem to always underestimate the time needed for those first few days. So, we were late. On the first day. And, Baby Girl got out of the car in tears, which made for a rough first day of school for me as well. Since that day, we’ve been leaving earlier and I’ve been trying my best to keep my attitude light as we navigate the crazy school traffic.

This morning, I couldn’t help but smile as we turned onto School Street for the last crucial lap of Wednesday morning carpool. Baby Girl was practically bouncing, and said, “I wish I was in there right now! I can’t wait to get in there and get started!” School, she meant! [Bravo, Henderson Ward Stewart Elementary staff!] I assured her that we were in “the loop” now and she would be inside in no time. Her response… “It’s really a Rainbow Loop!”

She proceeded to discuss the idiosyncrasies of various circular shapes that resembled the traffic flow on the HWS campus until we made it to her jumping out stop, and determined that “rainbow” was, indeed, the best description of the carpool line.

I love a girl who can see a rainbow in even the most harried of situations. It made me think that maybe seeing rainbows has less to do with light and water, and more to do with joyful hearts and happy attitudes. Thanks for the reminder, Baby Girl. I hope you always see rainbows!

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