Family

January 7, 2022

A Letter to My Son on His First Birthday

My darling boy,

I peeked in on you while you were sleeping last night, like I usually do. (This isn’t for your sake—it’s purely so I can catch a glimpse of you in a rare freeze-frame moment.) I marveled at your sprawling limbs, growing longer by the day, and the way you now take up most of your crib.

When did this happen, I wonder? It seems like we just graduated you from the bassinet. I remember the way the crib seemed like an ocean at the time, engulfing your tiny curled-up frame.

We like to read Frog and Toad together, and I can’t help but think of Toad in “The Garden.” He watches his garden minute by minute, waiting for it to grow. And then, after he falls asleep, he wakes up to find his plants have suddenly sprung up overnight.

Forever. And just one year.

When the doctor placed you in my arms one year ago, I immediately realized: this is forever. No matter what happens tomorrow or next year or decades from now, my world has been altered forever. My perspective has been altered forever. My heart has been altered forever.

What didn’t hit me right away is that while my heart is permanently changed, that’s the only thing permanent about this parenting gig. Time, which used to march along fairly consistently, now moves at warp speed. Just one year—that’s all the time we had with you as a baby.

I woke up, and suddenly you are running, arms winging wildly to the sides. You squawk like a pterodactyl at the dinner table, increasing in volume to match the crowd. You no longer bundle up under my winter jacket, with only your fuzzy hat sticking out; you are now toddling around the snow on your own two legs, begging (by way of your adamantly pointing finger) for another sled ride. You no longer fall asleep on our chest; you only have time for drive-by snuggles before dashing off to explore the dishwasher or the ungated stairway or your brother’s toys.

I wouldn’t trade it, of course. It is a delight to watch your personality unfold and to discover, day by day, the person God made you to be.

You are Mr. Personality, charming friends and strangers alike. You doggedly maintain eye contact with anyone, masked or otherwise, until they reciprocate your cheeky grin. From the moment you learned to roll over, you haven’t stopped moving, and once you’ve decided on a destination, there’s no diverting you. You are curious and independent, insisting on feeding yourself, walking by yourself, and even turning the pages of books yourself. Your gap-toothed smile lights up the whole room—and, indeed, our whole lives. I don’t know the ingredients God used to make the unique combination of you, but I have a hunch you’re two parts sunshine and one part steel.

It’s hard to believe that just over a year ago, we hardly knew anything about you. We didn’t know your gender, we didn’t know your name, we didn’t know you’d come into the world with a head full of hair and enough exuberance to rally an entire stadium.

We can’t imagine our family without you, and we can’t wait to see the way you uniquely reflect the character of God to the world.

So happy birthday, my boy. My baby for a year, my son forever.

Love,
Mom (and Dad too)

May 21, 2021

Split in Two

To be a woman, I would contend, is to feel split in two. Maybe you’re juggling home and career, or marriage and friends, or kids and calling. Whatever the scenario, we all know what it’s like to try to keep the plates spinning without breaking the ones we care about most.

There’s a famous story about a wise king who settled a dispute by offering to split a baby in two split a baby in two. As the story goes, there was one baby and two women, each claiming the child was hers. Solomon called for a sword and said, “Cut the living child in two and give half to one and half to the other.”

At this point in the story, every person with a beating heart cries, “Stop!”There are no circumstances that justify a split-in-two baby. No one wins if Baby is dead.

But what about when it’s the mom who’s split in two?

I recently returned to work after maternity leave, and it seems that wherever I am, I have to leave a piece of myself behind. When I’m at work, my heart is still tethered to the 15-pound cheeky boy who is currently doing tummy time without me and the 3-year-old I promised to build an excavator with when I get back. When I’m at home, I can’t help but wonder what emails are piling up and if my brain will ever recover from its current porridge-like state.

And it’s not just working moms who find themselves tugged in different directions. There are women who are at home full-time while trying to pursue something they feel called to. There are women sandwiched between two generations, caring for kids as well as aging parents. There are single women who are trying to figure out how to follow their passion while also covering the bills.

Some days it feels like there just isn’t enough of us to go around. Not enough energy, not enough time, not enough emotional bandwidth. We need the wisdom for Solomon for this. Is the answer to split ourselves into two (or three or four or five)? If we do, will there be enough of us to go around?

The reality is, it will never work to cut ourselves in half—no matter how sharp the sword or how accurate the slice. We’ll keep giving pieces away until there’s nothing left . . . and it still won’t be enough.

So what’s the answer?

I don’t think there’s an easy solution to this—we may have to reconcile ourselves to living in some amount of tension. But I am learning, by baby steps, that there’s peace in bringing our whole selves wherever we are. Instead of becoming fragmented—separating our work selves from our home selves, our mom selves from our professional selves, our daughter selves from our adult selves—what if we stitched our roles together so we could be all there, wherever we are?

I used to think of integrity strictly in terms of moral uprightness. But what if integrity is about being fully integrated—being the same person, no matter where we are?

I’m still figuring out what this looks like. But maybe it means bringing my editor-self to my parenting and using multi-syllabic words with my toddler. Or bringing my mother-self to my work and letting my baby crash my Zoom calls on occasion.

I wonder what this looks like for you, beautiful woman being tugged in different directions. How are you wrestling with the split-ness of being a woman? What might it look like for you to bring your whole, integrated self to each role you’ve been called to?

However we’re feeling split, may we stitch each part of ourselves together so we can fully love, fully live . . . and be fully ourselves.

The glory of God is a human fully alive.
Saint Irenaeus

November 14, 2014

A Pre-Game Talk for Dad

Today my dad is being sworn in as a judge. He’d prefer not to have the spotlight on him, and if I tried to say something nice to his face, he would most likely crack a joke. So I’m writing down my words to him instead.

***

Dad, you have always been the one in the stands, cheering for your kids. You still have your “wall of fame” in your office, plastered with yellowed newspaper clippings you saved about our sports events and academic endeavors, along with the calendar we made for you years ago with pictures of us as kids. We’ve tried to tell you that the dates are all wrong now, but you insist on keeping it up.

You were our biggest fan, the dad who would leave work early so he could be there for every game and meet and recital. I always looked up to your spot in the bleachers, and without fail I’d find you there, giving me the secret family signal.

And now here we are in the audience as you stand at the front of the courtroom in a black judge’s robe with your hand on a Bible, so official as you get sworn in.

Before each of my basketball games, you’d give me a pre-game talk. Don’t be afraid to shoot. Be smart. This is your game. Think! The talk always ended with your trademark fist bump. And now, what words can I offer you on this day, as you prepare to discern cases and bring justice to your corner of the world?

I know that God has already given you what you need for this role. I know, because I’ve been on the receiving end of your judicial gifts my whole life. Whenever I had a decision to make, I’d ask you what to do. I was convinced you knew everything, but (to my consternation) you never told me what to do. You’d help me work through it myself and then tell me, “Now go ask your mother.” And whenever I flubbed up, you gave me that rare combination of truth and love, justice and compassion.

So all I have for you in this pre-game moment is a prayer. A prayer that you will lean into this call you’ve been given. A prayer that you will spread your wings inside that judge’s robe and find that it was made precisely to fit you. A prayer that you will have the wisdom of Solomon to get to the heart of things. A prayer that your gavel will be part of making the Kingdom come in this world.

I will be in the stands, cheering you on.

Fist bump.

September 9, 2014

Sojourners Here

A few weeks ago on a brilliant Sunday afternoon, my grandparents’ friends, a couple in their 80s, took their own lives. I didn’t know them personally, but I am grieving anyway. I’m grieving on behalf of their children, on behalf of their friends, on behalf of all those they left behind.

***

You were almost there, almost at the finish line. I know you wanted to end in a sprint, with triumph and vigor, arms lifted high. But somewhere along the way you forgot that finishing well sometimes just means finishing. Even if you have to limp across the line.

I wish you could have seen the crowd in the stands . . . all the people who were cheering you on, urging you forward. All the people who loved you.

I suppose you knew what King David knew—that we are but sojourners here on earth.

We are strangers before you and sojourners, as all our fathers were. Our days on the earth are like a shadow, and there is no abiding. (1 Chronicles 29:15)

Life in these shadowlands is hard, it’s true. The losses take our breath away, the pain doubles us over, and it can be hard to see the finish line through the tears.

But with these encroaching shadows, we needed you all the more. We needed your light. We needed the conversations over Sunday brunch, the phone calls to check in, the recipes to swap. You reflected God’s light in a way no one else can, and now your unique brilliance has been snuffed out.

If you were still here, I would hug you first and then chastise you. Instead, I’m left with the secondary grief of mourning you on behalf of those I love.

“People needed you,” I would have said. “My grandparents needed you.”

You were afraid to be a burden, but this burden you leave behind is so much heavier.

All I have is words, and they come too late for you to hear. And so I write in the hope that someone else will read these words and it will not be too late for them.

I want you to know that you are irreplaceable.
That the world needs your light.
That you can make it to the finish line.

So please. Please, fellow sojourner. Do not end your sojourn too soon.

May 16, 2014

A Reservoir of Joy

We call my niece the Pterodactyl. Don’t worry—we’ll stop when she gets old enough to find such a moniker unflattering (not to mention difficult to spell). But she’s only six months now, so I think we can get away with it for a while longer. (In case you’re wondering what a pterodactyl sounds like, click here.)

When I first heard Addie’s pterodactyl shriek, I couldn’t see her face, and I assumed she was “hangry” (hungry, angry, or some combination of the two). But then she turned her head, and I saw that she was scrunching up her nose and smiling the biggest one-toothed grin you’ve ever seen.

Whenever something delights her—the wagging tail of a dog or a spoonful of sweet potatoes or the entrance of one of her people into the room—she kicks her legs, flails her arms, and lets out a string of squawks. As her grandpa put it, she laughs with her whole body.

As you might imagine, this made for hours of entertainment when Addie was recently in town for a visit. With a six to one adult-to-baby ratio, you’d think we would have gotten a lot accomplished. But in reality, it just meant there were six grown adults hovering ceaselessly around our little bird, attempting whatever antics we could think of to evoke a squeal.

I had fleeting thoughts that we might be irrevocably spoiling her, but then I talked to a wise friend who said, “I think it’s great. She’s building up a reservoir of joy that will serve her well the rest of her life.” A reservoir of joy. Now that’s something I can work with.

My prayer buddy Marilyn tells a story about a little boy who loved watching the lightning whenever it stormed. Every time a flash lit up the night, he’d say, “Yay, God!”

After watching this happen several times, his mom finally asked him, “Why do you say, ‘Yay, God’ whenever there’s lightning?”

The boy grinned. “Mom, don’t you know that God is taking my picture?”

When do we lose that, I wonder—that sense of delighting in God and knowing we delight him? More often than not I come to him sheepishly, shamefacedly, my record of sins and shortcomings fresh in my mind. The thought that he’d hover around me, delighting in my smile, trying any antic to make me laugh, rarely crosses my mind. If the thought of God enters my mind when lightning flashes, I’m more likely to assume judgment than doting.

But take a look at this image Scripture paints of God’s character:

He will take delight in you with gladness.
With his love, he will calm all your fears.
He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.
—Zephaniah 3:17

Whether or not you ever had a gaggle of grown-ups surrounding you, may you know today that your Father delights in you. He rejoices over you. He sings over you, grinning over your every squawk and squeal. And may the knowledge of how treasured you are become a reservoir for you . . . a deep reservoir of joy.

January 17, 2014

Friday Favorites for January

Every month I try to compile a list of my favorite discoveries. Here are January’s best finds.

For readers from any state in the US…
I loved this—a map with the most famous book from each state. It kind of makes me want to move out of Illinois though. The Jungle? Really? Famous Books Set in Every State
For word lovers…Are you feeling gusted, gruntled, or sheveled? I didn’t think so. Here’s a list of words with a negative but no opposite: 12 Lonely Negative Words
For nostalgics with a funny bone…I promise these photos of people recreating family photos from their childhood as adults will make you laugh. And maybe even try it yourself: Recreating Ridiculous Family Pictures
For anyone who needs encouragement to do the right thing…
Great parental advice: “You can’t come in without going out, kids. Always go to the funeral.” Always Go to the Funeral
For anyone who has ever felt pressure for their marriage to look one particular way…
Refreshing insights about what spiritual leadership looks like in real life: Spiritual Leadership: A Movement in Three Parts

December 10, 2013

God with Us

On the last day my three-year-old nephew was in town for a visit, his grandma and I asked him if there was anything else he wanted to do before he went back home. Without hesitation, he and his big sister replied, “We want to go to BOUNCE TOWN!”

For the uninitiated (as I was prior to aunthood), Bounce Town is one of those places with giant inflatable slides and tunnels, moon walks, inflatable castles, and air trampolines. In other words, a dream-come-true for anyone under three feet tall.

From the moment we walked in the door, Tyler had my hand gripped in his own chubby fingers. He wanted to go everywhere with “Aunt Eppie,” as he calls me.

“Aunt Eppie go with me!” he exclaimed, racing toward the slide as I tried to keep pace.

After squirming my way through tunnels made me for people one-third my size and maneuvering around pint-sized torpedoes zipping down the slide, I asked Tyler what he wanted to do next. “Go on the Batman,” he said. “With Eppie!”

And so I followed him to the Batman-themed inflatable, again contorting my body through various child-sized portals.

Next up was the trampoline. Tyler squealed with delight: “Eppie make me bounce in the air!”

By the time our hour had expired, I was sporting two rug burns, several sore muscles, and one headache. But you know what? It was worth every bruise, every bit of pain.

Because here’s the thing: Tyler can’t enter my world of work and e-mail and adult conversation and grown-up things. So I entered his world. It wasn’t comfortable—Bounce Town isn’t made for giants like me. But I scrunched my body through the tunnels and small spaces—all so I could be close to this boy I love, all so I could hold his hand, all so we could breathe the same air.

On the way home, tired but happy, it hit me that traipsing around Bounce Town in my stocking feet is a pretty good picture of Christmas. God wanted to be with us, but he realized how vast the gap was between us and him. So he entered into the awkward space of a human womb, squeezing himself through a narrow birth canal, experiencing unaccountable pain and discomfort throughout his three decades on earth—all so he could be with us, all so he could enter our world.

Immanuel. God with us.

Even in the tight, uncomfortable spaces of our earthly Bounce Town.

“This is the God of the gospel of grace. A God who, out of love for us, sent the only Son He ever had wrapped in our skin. He learned how to walk, stumbled and fell, cried for His milk, sweated blood in the night, was lashed with a whip and showered with spit, was fixed to a cross, and died whispering forgiveness on us all.” —Brennan Manning

Photo Credit: http://mommypoppins.com/newyorkcitykids/bounce-houses-bounce-castles-nyc-kids (top)

November 22, 2013

Gospel Story: A Story of Hope

Two of my great passions in life are helping other people share their stories and seeing God’s extraordinary grace at work through ordinary people. So when I was given the opportunity to be part of the Gospel Stories project at my church, it felt like a beautiful collision of those passions.

Today I’d like to share Ken and Sally’s remarkable story with you.

Have you ever felt like life had you around the neck and then started squeezing? You want to cling to hope; you want to believe that God has good plans for you, but all your circumstances seem to indicate otherwise.

Ken and Sally Marino know what it’s like to be hit with one blow after the other. But it has been precisely in the midst of some of those challenges that they’ve experienced the depths of God’s faithfulness in keeping his promises.

If you are in need of a breath of hope today, we invite you to watch the Marinos’ story. It’s a story of God’s goodness in hard times, a story of laughter and joy where you might expect tears. And ultimately, it’s a story of hope.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. —Jeremiah 29:11

To watch their story in their own words, see the video here.

November 15, 2013

9 Books Every Girl Should Read

Whether you’re looking for a book for a girl you love or you missed these along the way in your childhood, here are nine of my top titles for girls.

The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams
This book offers some profound insights about how love can hurt, but how it’s also what makes you real.

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.

“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”

A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle
I’m not sure if this is an adult book that can also be appreciated by kids or a kids book that can also be appreciated by adults, but it holds up for any age, any generation. I remember reading it and having my eyes opened to the wonder and mystery just under the surface of ordinary life. I also felt a special kinship with Meg, who doesn’t seem to fit in with her peers but finds herself uniquely equipped to deal with another world once she arrives there—a world she never even dreamed of.

The Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson
This was the first book I remember reading that didn’t have a happy ending. Although I felt indignant about it at the time, I grew to appreciate the beautiful picture of friendship painted in this book and how the characters’ grief prepared me to face my own losses.

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett
This book serves as a reminder that friendship can blossom just as surely as flowers do, that miracles are possible, and that hope is worth clinging to.

“Is the spring coming?” he said. “What is it like?” . . .

“It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine.”

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
I think every girl has a little bit of Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy in her. These sisters helped me grow up and figure out who I was, and they showed me how to stay true to what I stood for.

Anne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery
I read this series so many times the books are now practically falling apart. After I read each book as a kid, I’d give it to my grandmother (she of the red hair and the spunky personality, just like Anne) and we’d talk about it together. Looking back, I suppose it was my first impromptu book club.

Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder
I must have overlooked the parts about dysentery, the lack of indoor plumbing, and the absence of central air, but I desperately wanted to go back in time so I could be Laura. This book offers a poignant snapshot of a particular era in our country’s history, and it’s rich with themes of family relationships and the tough times can help us learn and grow.

“There’s no great loss without some small gain.”

Pippi Longstocking by Astrid Lindgren
This book is pure fun. My sister and I loved wearing colorful stockings and putting our hair in pigtails, Pippi style.

Winnie the Horse Gentler by Dandi Daley Mackall
This book came into my life when I was an adult, like a long-lost friend, but it’s a story every girl should read. Horse lover or not, every girl will connect with the ups and the downs of being a kid, the longing for friendship, and the way the funny moments of life weave together with the more serious ones.

What were your favorite books as a kid? I’d love to hear your list.

October 29, 2013

Surprise Me!

I love going places with my sister where there is ordering of any sort involved. That’s because almost without fail, when she places her order, she drops the line “Surprise me” at some point in the conversation.

If she’s getting a cappuccino and the barista asks what flavor she’d like, Meghan will give her trademark dimpled grin and say, “Surprise me!” If she’s ordering a salad and is offered various dressing options, her response is the same: “Surprise me!” If I’m getting her something to drink out of Mom’s fridge, I can almost guarantee her refrain will echo once again: “Surprise me!”

I always stare at her, wide eyed. “What if you get something you don’t like?”

She just flashes a grin at me and shrugs. “That’s part of the fun of the surprise.”

Me, I’m a planner. I like to map it all out, write a script. I cling to the illusion of control. Truth be told, I’d rather do the surprising than the being surprised.

But this sister of mine, she lives with her arms wide open. She embraces life, holds out her hands to accept the surprises God has for her, just the way she does with her coffee.

So when the time approached for Meghan’s baby to born, I should have expected that this surprise-loving sister of mine would make room for as many surprises as possible.

“Girl or boy?” I asked over the phone, breathless, after her ultrasound.

“We’re going to be surprised!” she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice.

“What names are you thinking about?”

“We’re keeping it a surprise!”

And of course, the details of the birth itself were a surprise. Two days before her due date, Meghan went to the doctor. “You’re progressing right along,” he said. “It should be any day now.”

But the next day nothing happened. And nothing the next day either, or the day after, or the whole week after.

And then, ten days past her due date, just when the doctor was ready to speed things along, surprise! The baby decided to make a grand appearance. And the new mom and dad unwrapped their surprise package right there in their hospital room…a little gift of a girl named Addie Mae.

And when I first looked into the face of that sweet surprise, I wondered what other surprises God might have up his sleeve. What do I miss out on when I try to make the plan and script it all out myself?

This little girl, this eight-pound bundle, she is teaching me already. Her life whispers, as soft as breathing, This is life! This is joy! This is a whole new world of divine surprises.

So here I am, God, with my eyes squeezed shut and my arms wide open. Surprise me.