Make No Mistake!

Make no mistake, dear little boy,
I know that school can be hard.
You're told to sit still, to soak learning in,
To be quiet and just do your part.

"Make no mistake!" you're constantly told
By a teacher who wants you to learn.
But learning, dear boy, is made by mistakes,
Learning is not something earned.

When you started to walk, you fell the first time,
But you constantly tried your best.
And you tried through action, encouragement, and fun;
And that made you human, dear boy, not a pest.

Since the start of mankind, little boys have learned
By doing, by working, by tasks.
It's not your fault you wiggle and move,
I know you want to do what they ask.

But dear little boy, know this is true,
About you, and others as well:
You can't give up on learning in school,
'Cause God's plans for you are too big to fail.

Remember to be kind, and always show respect,
These things are what will make you a man.
But, dear one, you should never expect
To sit idly and learn a way that you can't.

Try your hardest; get to know your own amazing brain.
Think, How can I learn this stuff best?
Could I write standing up, or read lying down?
Could I act out the story in my head?

Could I write down my questions and seek all their answers?
Could I take certain things apart?
Could I see how they work and find answers why?

Could I really discover... I'm smart?

Yes, you could, little boy! Just think of who made you.
And if there's one thing I know, it's this:
The God who made everything your eyes can take in,
He made you to be a success.

He knows you can learn; He knows that you're smart.
And He knows there's a lot at stake.
So, dear little boy, just think of who made you,
And know that God, well:

 He makes no mistakes.

My Sweet Baby Girl

Enough

My Sweet Baby Girl, my cherished, beloved,

How I prayed God would send me you,

The first time I met you, I knew I had found
A love that's relentless and true.

The night you were born, 

I held you to my heart.

I couldn't stop staring;

You were perfect, every part.

Your light brown lashes spilled

Over the top of your cheeks.

Your lips smacked and puckered

And your blue eyes only peeked

At this new world around you,

Which must have been so strange.

But now you're part of it,

Becoming more so, as you age.

My baby girl, you're almost a woman,

Getting attention from young men.

We knew this day was coming,

We just wish we could dictate when.

And I've failed you  horribly, sweet daughter,

I realized this last night.

I've asked God to forgive me,

And I also ask that you might.

You see, last night, I watched you

Prepare excitedly for your date.

I saw your anticipation in getting ready,
And I feared you'd come home late.

I saw you in front of the mirror,
Assessing how you looked,
Trying so hard to be what he wanted,
Your knowledge gained from magazines, movies, and books.

Your eyelashes were extended,
Heavy, dark, and fake.
Your lips were colored, full, and plump,
You looked stunning, and my heart ached.

I realized in that moment,
That you'd become what I had prepped.
You see, since you were little,
"You're beautiful," is what I said.

"So smart, and funny, and charming!
I love how kind you are!"
I gave you compliments and put-ups
To try to show how loved you are.

And while all those things are so, so true,
Now you want those things to be said by men.
And while those compliments are extremely nice,
They don't matter at all, in the end.

What I should have constantly told you,
In the beginning, since before you could talk,
Was that you, my beautiful gift from God,
Are made to be enough.

No matter how pretty God made you,
No matter the brains in your head,
No matter the talents and treasures you have,
Know you can't earn a love, instead.

Try your best to be like him Him,
Not the men that you will meet.
Not the friends that come and go in your life,
Not even the person above your feet.

Baby Girl, you were made in His image,
So that means that you have beauty throughout,
But one thing I want to make sure you know
Is that you can do without

All that stuff that I've always told you.
It was said without thought, off the cuff.
Don't try to be want the world thinks it wants,
Because, sweet baby girl, you're enough.

You're enough, right now, to deserve a love
That will sweep you off your feet.
No amount of makeup, or actions, or thought
Can make that kind of love more sweet.

Because the love that you are seeking,
When you find it, will be a reflection of Him.
It will be compassionate, kind, and patient,
Full of passion and humor, contentment and whim.

Nothing you do and no way you act
Will make your true love, love you less.
Your beauty and humor and charm and your brain:
If you lost them, it'd make you no less

Of a person who deserves everything:
All the treasures that I can think of.
But, my sweet baby girl, you can't earn all those things,
And I hope you won't want to...

Because you're enough.

'All-These-Mothers' and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

The baby woke up with poop in his pants and now there’s poop on my hand and while trying to clean the poop off at the sink, I stepped on a Lego and screamed out loud, and that made my big kid wake up, and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

At breakfast the baby got frosted Cheerios from his breakfast cereal box, and the big kid got marshmallows from her breakfast cereal box, but in my breakfast cereal box all I found was extra fiber.

I think I’ll move to Australia.

In the car on the way to work, a traffic light wasn't working and I had to wait to turn.  A policeman came and let the cars moving the other directions go, but not me. 

I said I was being cheated. I yelled that I was being jipped.  I hollered, “If you don’t let me go through this light right now, I’m going to be late!” 

No one even answered.

I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

At work, I liked Deb’s assignment better than mine.

During office time, my computer froze.  During conference time, my phone was too loud.  During break time, I didn't have time to pee.  WHO DOESN'T HAVE TIME TO PEE?

I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I could tell because my outfit wasn't the best trend anymore.  Diane's was obviously the first best trend and Kate had the second best trend and I wasn't even the third best trend.

“I need to put you on a rack,” I muttered to my disheveled blouse. “I hope when I drop you off at Goodwill, someone buys you and takes you all the way to Australia.”

At lunch time, there were two cupcakes in Diane’s lunch box, and a gourmet chocolate bar in Kate’s lunch box, and Emily brought a cinnamon roll with caramel dripping on top.

Guess who decided they were too fat for dessert?

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

That’s what it was, because after work I went to the doctor’s office for a flu shot and it really hurt. “Come back next year and it might not hurt as bad,” the nurse said.

“Next year,” I said, “I’m moving to Australia.”

As soon as I got home I had to sprint from the front door to keep my kids from fighting and after breaking up the fight, the baby was still crying because he was shoved and my big kid was crying too because she was misunderstood and my babysitter was waiting to get paid and

While I went to the office to grab my checkbook my baby fell off a stool and my big kid drew on the wall and I tried desperately to call my husband to see when he was coming home…

But I think I called Australia.

My husband doesn't want to pick up the phone anymore.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

There were skinny jeans that needed ironed and I hate skinnies. (and ironing).

There was kissing on TV, and

*sigh*

I miss kissing.

During my bath time, the kids snuck in.  During read-aloud time, I got peed on and had to shower again. And because my other pajamas got peed on, I had to wear my holey, stained pajamas.

I hate my holey, stained pajamas.

When I went to bed, my kids squeezed in and took the pillow I wanted to use. I had to get up because a nightlight burned out and my big kid bit her tongue.

The cat doesn't want to sleep on the couch. She wants to sleep on me.

It’s been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

My husband says some days are like that.

Even in Australia.

:)

Four things, friends: 

1) "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day” by Judith Viorst is my all-time favorite children’s book.  I remember my mother reading it to me, and I love reading it to my kids.  There’s something so satisfying about the relentlessly grumpy voice of Alexander. I've almost come to regard him as an alter-ego.

2) Also, my husband really is from Australia, but he denies wishing I wouldn't call anymore. At least publicly.

3) Lastly, this classic book is now a movie.  Share this post, then read the book, go see the movie, and pass the classics along! 

4) Even though some days are like that, I wouldn't trade my babies for the world. The snuggles outweigh the sniffles, and the affection outweighs the fits.  Some days are trying, but most of the time I feel like one of the luckiest women in the world. 

And on the days I don't, I read my alter-ego's book. In my grumpiest voice.  While eating chocolate. :)

Dreamin' for a Decade

You guys.

I've been living in a city for nine years.

Nine years.

In 2005, I moved to Denver to chase my then-boyfriend (now-husband), who was finishing up college in the city.  I'd only ever lived in towns with a population under five thousand, and I convinced myself that the move was a temporary thing.  I'd grown sick of a long-distance relationship and wanted to be near my guy, so I moved.

Temporarily.

Nine years ago.

The other day, I was assessing our house and what all needed to be done. I paused at the door to our master bedroom and took in the sad sight before me: the bed without a headboard, nightstands made out of Walmart plastic, the bare walls.  I'd never allowed myself to buy furniture for the room because I convinced myself we'd be moving as soon as we bought the furniture to suit it.

In the nine years I'd lived here, I'd never really allowed myself to settle in.

My brain has always known I was staying, that there was no reason to leave. I have a great job and my husband does, too.  The city we live in is only a couple of hours from my hometown, so it's a simple trip to see my family. My brain has told me for the last nine years that we have had every logical reason to stay.

But in the nine years since I made the decision to "temporarily" move, my brain failed to send that message to my heart.

Despite the changing circumstances, the job offers, the house purchase, the kids - despite everything - my heart isn't here.  At least not all of it.

Part of it is at home, on a quiet dirt road adjacent to whispering summer wheat. It's at a county fair where warm 'hellos' are exchanged, even though we see one another often. It knows everyone in the paper, whether it's in the obituary, the sports page, or the courthouse notes.  It's amidst big time support for small town teams, with the whole town watching on Friday nights.

And I'm starting to wonder if it always will be.

I've gotten used to life here in the city.  The anonymity is nice, especially if you're fond of running to the store in stained sweatpants without combing your hair.  (Not that I do that or anything.) I love grocery shopping after the kids go to bed and truly appreciate having more of a choice in everything, from where I shop to where I send my kids to school.

The city has its perks, but has yet to make my heart beat sporadically the way it does when riding horseback surrounded by hills.

I lament about this often, mostly because I'm spoiled and have little to complain about.  I procrastinate finding a niche anywhere, thinking that I better not grow too close to friends or create my own handpicked family, because I'll just end up having to leave them when my dream comes true and we move to a smaller town.

When my dream comes true.

And while waiting for my dream to come true, almost a decade has passed.

Nine years of friendships that I kept at an arm's distance.  Nine years of not making my neighborhood a reflection of my small town with big waves and just-because cookies.  Nine years of making plans for the future, which is still as far away as it has ever been.

And, recalling my barren bedroom, nine years of not wanting to make my house a home.

This got me thinking about the purpose of dreams.  They drive us and revive us. They are food for our soul, and at times, they're all that keep us going when everything is going wrong.

We see our dreams as doorways to our final destination, one of treasure and joy.

But what happens when the dreams are deadlocks to doors that are holding us in?  Holding us back?

How many times do we tell ourselves that someday, when circumstances are different, that's when we can be who we were meant to be, or that's when we can reach out to others?

Someday, when our dreams come true and we make more money, we will give more.

Someday, when our dreams come true and we have more time, we will volunteer and help others.

Someday, when our dreams come true, and the circumstances of life suit us better, we will be the person we want to be.

Someday I will be a blessing, but only when I get my blessing first.

Someday.

In the meantime, we live day-by-day, as if the time we have on this earth is endless and the people we share it with can be put on hold.

I've spent almost a decade here.  Almost all of my major, life-changing events have happened here. And yet here I am, unwilling to give back the blessings that I've received.  Here I am, unwilling to be God's servant - God's blessing - now.

Someday can mean a lot of things, people.  Tomorrow.  A year from now.

A decade or so.

Or, for some people, never.

We're given one shot at life, and while we should never lose sight of our dreams, we need to balance it with the now.

Because right now I have two neighbors on my street who just lost their husbands and can't stand the thought of cooking supper for just themselves.

Right now I see the same hurried and worried mom every morning, rushing to get her baby to preschool on time, fearing condescending remarks from teachers and other parents.

Right now I come into contact with around thirty strangers a day, thirty strangers with their own celebrations and struggles.

And right now, I have celebrations and struggles of my own.

Imagine what could happen if I - and if all of you, too - decided to keep our desires where they belong: in our dreams.  Imagine if the only time we made those dreams a priority was during prayer and reflection.

Imagine what would happen if we made a point to make the present a priority.

Imagine if we had no plans that put our good intentions on hold.

I, for one, am going to keep dreaming. I'll pray that God can use those dreams to whisper to my heart.

But I'm going to stop making them the roadblocks to being the person God intended me to be.

Because I'm here now: for a reason, for a purpose.  And I was not created to covet my own desires rather than God's desire for me.

After all, His plans will fulfill my desires much more than my own dreams ever will.