Sisters Sleepover

Since they were old enough to ask, they've been begging for sleepovers together.  On weekends we agree. On school nights, not so much. But the other night, we let them have a sleepover together on a school night. And it was pure magic.

They plotted all afternoon.  They drug blankets up. Games came out of the closet and went up the stairs. Art supplies took over the upstairs living room. The disco light came down for the pre-party in the living room.  Snacks were snuck up to the bedroom. 

Oh how they giggled and laughed. It was the kind of night that makes fills a heart with happiness.  Sisters making memories. Sisters becoming best friends. 

It was only supposed to be one night, but they asked again the next day.  We gave a reluctant yes (with the admonishment that bedtime had to happen or they would go to their own rooms), again they were so excited. It's now happened every night for a week. Complete with a dance party every night except one. 

I'm not sure how many more nights they'll want to do it, but I don't think I'll tell them no as long as they're asking.  I won't say no because when I snuck this picture, it captured the joy of them being together.

I won't say no because nights like these they are becoming what I have always prayed for, best friends. They're becoming secret keepers, joke tellers, dream seekers, and each others biggest fans.  That bond is worth the room that looks like a tornado hit it. 

Some rules are made to be broken even on school nights.  Sometimes those broken rules lead to sisters learning that sisters really do make the best friends and to me, that's worth me breaking my own rules. 

I Love You Too (12/28/21)

I can't say "I love you" enough to the people in this house. I doubt they'll ever know just how much I love them. But they hear it so much and know it's so true that when they write me love notes, they put my response on them too.

"Why did you write that part?"

"Because, that's what you always tell us."

And I'll never stop; because I hope after I'm long gone, those words will echo in their hearts forever.

Mom's Christmas Memories (12/19/21)

I visited my mom this weekend. Though all of her kids are grown and out, her house still looks like a Winter Wonderland (that's just one room in her house in the picture below), just like I remember it as a kid. It's a different house and different decorations, but it transcends time, it's magical.

When I was little Christmas always felt magical. It looked like a dream and the aura of magic hung in the air with anticipation. When I walk in to my mother's house, it takes me back. I remember the excitement. I remember the anticipation. I remember all the feelings from way back when. I remember certain decorations that though many are long gone or have been handed down to us kids, created that atmosphere.

Now as a mom, I get it. My girls squeal with excitement when the tree gets drug up the stairs. They wait with anticipation as the ornaments and other decorations are carefully placed. The advent box holds treasures of the days to come and they await it's opening each day with giddiness.

The magic is ours to create. I don't have the decorating skills of my mother. I'm not near as crafty. I don't bake like her or my grandmothers, but to my kids, what we do is joyful. It connects with them and each year they look forward to pulling out the old memories and making new ones.

Each year we make magic. It's a gift that passes on. And one day, though not near as elaborate as my mother's, I hope they walk in and feel like they're going back in time to the Winter Wonderland of their youth.

The Christmas magic lives on in each of us!

Be the Change (11/28/21)

Dear Church,

I know times have changed. Things aren't as simple as they used to be. Right and wrong, believer and non-believer, it was easy right? But now things aren't quite as clear, times have changed, things seem a little more muddled than they were years ago don't they?

I feel you. I'm a pretty black and white person myself, I've always struggled to find any gray area in almost all areas of life. But times are changing and we must change also. I'm not saying that we forgo our faith. That is the one thing that we should never waiver on: our faith in Jesus and His love. Yet I have to wonder, what does that mean?

I think we answer that by answering a few questions. There are some that are easy to answer and easy to follow through with, as they should be. There are some that will make us uncomfortable, make us squirm a little in our seats, and question who and what we as a body of believers are. I think that's where we find change. That's where we find love, understanding, compassion, and being the true hands and feet of Christ.

So let me ask you:

*If I'm sick or in an accident, is it easy for you to pray for me? Are you willing to jump in and bring meals for my family? Are you willing to give me rides to therapy? I hope those are easy yeses for you, they should be.

*If I lose my job and my car, are you willing to pray for me? Are you willing to drive me around to apply for jobs and maybe take me to my first few weeks until I get back on my feet? Again, I hope these are easily answered yes.

*If I'm homeless, will you see me or will you see a person that "needs to get a job and stop doing drugs?" How out of your comfort zone are you willing to go for the dirty person on the street corner? This one is a little harder, but most of us would be willing to at least hand a couple of bucks out the window, right? Are you squirming a bit? I mean what exactly are they going to do with that money? I don't want them to use my money for more drugs...

*If my dad's an alcoholic or my mother leaves us, how do you treat me? Do you whisper about "that poor kid, how could he/she do that to them"? Do you pray? Do you reach out to my mom or dad, even if it's "not my place?" Or do you reach out to me and let me know that you're here and genuinely show me that I can trust you to support me?

*If life throws me some curveballs and I lose my way and find comfort in a pill bottle, will you give up on me? Or will you walk alongside me as I try to overcome my addiction? If we're truly the body of Christ you won't abandon me when I've lost myself.

*If you learned that I had an abortion when I was a teen, would you think less of me? Oh, that one's tough right, because I killed someone. But if you truly want to be the hands and feet, you'll show me that there's hope, that I'm not a lost cause because of a choice I made. You'll help me find hope in the future instead of despair and judgement in the past.

*If I struggle with anxiety or depression, will you offer to help me and support me the same way you would if I had broken my leg? Or would you tell me to "suck it up, we've all got it rough?" It's a silent issue and one that is easily judged, but as the body of Christ shouldn't we be reaching out in the same way we would a physical illness? Come alongside me, show me I'm not alone, not forgotten, and have value in this life. If I've forgotten it for myself, remind me through your love.

*Now the one that's going to make you squirm more than just a little, if my child decided that he or she was homosexual, would you love them? Would you love me? Or would you judge them as a "sinner" and wonder where I had gone wrong as a parent? Tougher question right? Because I mean the Bible tells us it's wrong. But isn't lying, stealing, lust, the list goes on and on also sinning? And isn't all sin just that in God's eyes? Why is this one the one we as Christians chose to hang our hat on? Why is this the line we've decided to cross? Are they suddenly less human? Is their life suddenly less valuable? If you've loved them their whole life and found out today they had a different sexual orientation why would that change your feelings? As Christ's body, we should love them where they are. Just as we would the addict, the lost, the broken. We don't have to agree to love.

Friends, I say all of this in love. Honestly, God has grown me over the years and softened my heart to all of these things. Oh it's hard. It's hard when you've always believed one way, but acknowledging that we need to change shows growth in our faith. It's not accepting a sin, it's loving the person. It's not allowing hate to divide and win. And that my friends is where we've fallen short time and time again. We've failed to love others regardless of what or where they are, we've created our own hierarchy of sin that somehow ignores any that we ourselves may have.

If we want to see a change in the world, we must be the change in the world. And it starts here, with love, compassion, understanding, and meeting others where they are without judgment. We grow when we're uncomfortable. We show intelligence when we can admit we've been doing it wrong and change our ways. Let's admit our wrong and grow in our discomfort to grow God's kingdom for generations to come. Let's squirm into action.

Love,

Holly

Grace (10/16/21)

It's been a week. A rough, rough week. The kind of week that makes me question everything I'm doing as a parent. It's been hard. I've gotten madder than I've ever been. I've yelled, no screamed like I've never screamed. And I've cried, buckets and buckets of tears.

It's been hard.

It's been a week that I'm not proud of.

And to top it all off, my washing machine won't turn on. So I loaded up my dirty clothes and headed one town over to use my dad's. I called my grandma to see if I could use hers too (because let's face it, three regular sized washing machines are all gonna have to be working to accommodate our laundry).

You know what happened? Grace and a hug from above. None of which I deserve after how I've handled this not so great week.

Grandma told me to just leave my laundry in the hall because she wasn't home. She told me she'd love to do it and bring it back to me tomorrow to help me out.

My girls hugged me and reminded me how much they loved me even though I'd literally just lost my mind on them twenty minutes earlier.

Then because God knows how obtuse I can be, He thought he'd send me a few more signs. These sweet (most of the time) girls said "hey mom can you take our picture at Grandpa's house?" And when I looked at them, I remembered just how truly blessed I am by these beautiful girls.

As a last subtle hint to get myself together, I read something that asked if the devil really stole my joy or if I gave it to him. This week, I gave it to him. God reminded me to take it back. Because He is the giver of joy and only I can toss it away, it can't be stolen.

I sit here waiting for the washing machine to finish and I sit in awe at how good He is. How fortunate am I to live close enough to my Dad that I can use his washer. How blessed am I by a Grandma that offers to lighten my load. How honored I am to be the mother to these girls even when I don't come close to being perfect.

Tonight I'm refinding my joy because I been blessed beyond what I deserve.

I Love Mom (9/29/21)

Every evening I empty backpacks.

Every evening I catch a glimpse of their day.

And almost every evening, I find a note on an assignment that says "I love mom."

Almost every evening when I'm exhausted and feeling like I'm falling short in a million different ways, this little note brings me back.

It brings me back to remembering that I'm their person.

It reminds me that even when I'm not with them, they miss me and are thinking of me when they have a free second...much like I do them.

And when I feel like I'm not enough, that sweet little voice reminds me "you're my mommy and I want you to know I love you." Then I remember that even on my worst day, I'm what they need and that's enough.

Let's Talk About My Hair (9/14/21)

Can we talk about my hair? From one side it’s normal . . . the other, it’s best described as bold. Strange thing to talk about right? Yet it’s really not and here’s why: people judge me on it. 

I’m at a place in my life where whispers don’t bother me much. However, I’m also in a place that I have an image to uphold. As an elected official, sadly, you’re judged not always by how well you do your job but also by your appearance. I found a picture months ago of a haircut I LOVED, but it took me those months to convince myself to go for it. 

It’s a sad but real reality that I had to consider what the effects of my haircut would be on my job.

It made me realize I’m not alone in this—people are judged daily on their ability based on a physical appearance that has exactly zero impact on their ability to successfully do a particular job.  

Here’s the other thing it made me realize: I felt EMPOWERED. It was freeing to absolutely love the way I looked. It felt amazing knowing that it would inspire others to be bolder. I’m not a trendsetter and never set out to be, but I’m all for giving others something to rise upon. If seeing me break the norm of what society expects from someone in public life, I’m here for it.

People are gonna whisper. People are going to wonder if I’ve gone off the deep end (I haven’t, I just love continuing to embrace myself). People are going to think I’m somehow less capable of successfully running the office I’ve run for years based upon my hair. And while I’d love to say it’s all right, it’s really not.

It’s not because while I can shake it off and know with confidence I am exceedingly capable of succeeding, others can’t. Others are held down by the judgments that come from projected perceptions.

We can do better, and we should.

So let’s talk about my hair. Let’s talk about how amazing it is. Let’s talk about how it makes me feel good. Let’s talk about how my husband and kids love it (and me too). Let’s talk about how I’m still running a successful office. Let’s talk about projecting the fearlessness that something as simple as a haircut can provide. Let’s talk about positive image instead of negative.

Let’s talk about it, and let’s start with my hair.

Never Forget (9/11/21)

Twenty years ago, yet it seems like yesterday. I'll never forget learning about what had happened. I had just arrived to work on campus and everyone was sitting around the television (which was unheard of). I remember asking what was going on and Sam telling me that the World Trade Centers had been hit. Then I remember watching in disbelief as the day continued to unfold. I remember driving back home that night just because I wanted to be with those I loved.

I remember the devastation. I remember the disbelief. I remember the heartbreak. I remember it like it was yesterday.

Then I watched something amazing happen. I watched a country unite. I watched as others sacrificed themselves for their fellow man. I watched as opinions and politics were pushed aside because they weren't what mattered. I saw our country prove why it is great.

As I sit here twenty years later and think about how my children will never full understand the significant impact that day had, I can't help but feel a little nostalgic. As I look at our country today, we've forgotten. We've forgotten that unity. We've forgotten that sacrificing ourselves for the betterment of others is a life-giving gift. We've forgotten that ultimately our opinions and politics aren't what are going to help us survive. We rose together after 9/11. We put our faith in God and in one another and we overcame. We vowed to never forget.

We're not the same country we were twenty years ago. Personally, I don't think we're better. I hope as we reflect on the anniversary of one of our most devastating days as a country, we remember the lessons from that day. I pray that we chose to use this anniversary to look within ourselves and chose the common good as we did then. I pray that we truly never forget that day, those lost, and the lessons learned.

Never forget 9/11/01.

The Friend That Cares Too Much (8/23/21)

I’ve always been the friend who cared more. I didn’t realize it until recently. As I’ve reflected on life, I can see it’s something I’ve done since childhood. Honestly, it’s a hard burden. 

My whole life, I’ve kept my circle tight. I knew who I trusted, and I’ve never been one to change just to make another person like me more. Maybe that’s where my issue is, I won’t change my values for others. My husband tells me it’s one of my greatest but also my worst traits. It is—I don’t see a lot of gray. 

However, I also feel like that’s what makes it so easy for me to be the friend who cares more. I see your value. I see who you are and I love that about you. I see the good parts of me that you bring out. I see the hard parts of life we share. And I want to be there for all of it. 

That’s where it gets me. I’ve learned over the years that not everyone wants the same thing and it’s hard.

It’s hard to feel like the easily forgotten friend.

The friend who doesn’t get invited, the one who doesn’t get a visit when you come back to the area, the friend who never gets a random message checking in. It’s harder when you care and are always the one making the effort. 

The first time I realized I cared more, I was in college and one of my best friends was graduating from high school. I didn’t get invited to the party, and it stung. It hurt because I’d seriously have done anything in the world for her and it was then that I realized she didn’t feel the same. It’s a trait that’s continued through adulthood, and each time I think it’ll get easier, but it doesn’t. It still hurts.

I see those who have found their people. I try to always be genuinely happy for them, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little jealous. Jealous because when I find someone I connect with, I throw my whole heart into it and hope it’s my next step to building my group. Yet each time, I’m brought back down and realize they clearly have their own group outside of me, and it’s one I’m not going to be invited to join. It gets hard to try to extend the olive branch to make new friends because it often feels like I put myself out there only to be rejected, even by those who claim to have the same struggles with friendships. 

I care too much. It’s a blessing and a curse. 

I’ll never regret loving someone more because I know I gave it my all and tried to love like God wants me to love others. It hurts though.

Maybe one day I’ll find my people, the group I can always count on. Until then, I’ll keep giving it my all and hoping that one day I’ll be part of a group that cares SO much about each other that caring doesn’t feel like a burden anymore.

 

On My Own (8/18/21)

The last several years I've been an apprentice under my dad. I've been learning the ropes of canning and we've always done it side by side. Last year I attempted salsa on my own...not much of a feat, but I was proud of myself nonetheless.

This year from start to finish, I'm standing solo. It's my first year using the pressure cooker by myself. I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't a little nervous. I totally am.

I'm forever grateful for the time I've had to learn. Here's hoping one day one of my girls becomes my apprentice too.

Mindset (7/25/21)

How do you talk about yourself? What do you see or believe about yourself? It's easy to get wrapped up in the "I'm falling short" categories. Honestly, I've been wallowing there a lot lately.

Mostly it's because I'm feeling the crunch of time. I feel like things are moving too quickly and I can't enjoy the parts that I want to. I spend so much time missing out on what I'm wanting to hang onto and slowly drowning in the parts that I wish would pass.

My wallowing is in the depths of parenting. Guys, it's hard. Navigating a world that seems almost completely foreign (as I'm sure my youth did to my parents), making the right choices, figuring out the right boundaries, it's tough. It makes you question E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G.

I try so hard to be there. I try so hard to be open and honest about the hard stuff, the things I don't know how to handle. I try to encourage and guide. I pray. God do I pray. I pray for protection for them. I pray that they love Jesus with all of their hearts. I pray for the friends they make. I pray for their futures. I pray, I pray a lot.

Somehow though, I still convince myself that I'm not doing it right. I'm not doing it good enough. I try to give more to them, not necessarily materially, but emotionally and with my time than I recall from when I was a kid. I try to do it better than what I had, because isn't that what we all want is for it to be better for our kids? I try to see them and soak them in because I want them to know that I value every single second I get to be with them.

I find myself walking a thin line of wanting them to have it all and yet not feel entitled. If I'm honest, I feel like they're clueless as to how good they have it. It's so much more than my husband and I ever dreamed of. And still I feel like I'm falling short.

I'm not a worrier by nature. I generally go by the Bible verse Matthew 6:34 about tomorrow taking care of itself. Lately though, I'm struggling. Watching your kids grow and try to navigate life's choices and their consequences makes it hard to not worry. Knowing that I'm struggling is even harder for me because it makes me feel like I'm failing. I'm trying hard to focus one the One that carries it all, and know that He'll carry me through, but I'm struggling. Which is making the wallowing even easier.

Friends I share this because I know I'm not alone. I know that some seasons are just plain hard for no other reason than just that, they're hard. I'm trying hard to give myself grace in this season. I'm trying hard to focus on what and who matters. I'm trying. And as I talk to myself, I'm trying really hard to remind myself that I am worthy of this beautiful chaotic life that I have and it's ok to have tough spots. I'm trying really hard to remind myself that I am exactly who these people need to be their mama and wife because even when I feel like I'm failing or falling short, I'm exactly who God knew they needed.

I'm learning to talk to myself like God does, with gentleness and grace. I'm finding growth in the journey and learning each day to find joy in the little things. I'll choose to see myself as my maker does and I'll give grace, love, and mercy to others and myself along the way. That's how we change our mindset and move forward.

Just a Glimpse (7/16/21)

Navigating the teen years hasn't been my favorite. I find myself struggling to let go of my little girl and allowing her to find herself. I find myself grasping to hang on to any little piece of her. I find myself slowly learning to let go of the expectations and hopes I have for her to allow her to find her own.

Every once in a while though, I receive a gift.  A gift that gives me a glimpse into the heart of the beautiful soul that I've always known. It's as simple as a picture that captures her genuine laugh. In that I see my little girl and her carefree giggles of years gone by. In the same picture I get peek at the future of the beautiful young woman she's becoming. It tells me she's going to be alright. Though she's still finding herself and I'm trying hard to let her, that same beautiful soul is inside guiding her. That beautiful soul will develop into a beautiful woman. She just has to see herself the same way her mama does: beautiful inside and out.

Grandma's Tea Parties (6/27/21)

My Grandma always had the best tea parties when I was a kid.

I loved when the plastic tea sets would come out. Our "tea" was usually lemonade (the pink kind). She always had cookies, her homemade chocolate chip were my personal favorite. I can still to this day remember how special each tea party felt. It always felt like a treat no matter how many times we had one.

Now my kids get to have tea parties with my Grandma. I hear the excitement in their little voices when she suggests that a snack turn into a party. It makes me smile and the memory gates flood open with the same feelings from my childhood. I love hearing that she has the best snacks...and she does, there's something a little more special when the food is from Grandma. It must be the extra love she puts into it.

I'm forever thankful that my girls get to share some of the things I treasure from my youth. One day, I hope I get to be the Grandma that has the best tea parties. I hope I have the ability to make something so small seem special. It's a gift and I'm so glad it's being handed down to the next generation.

I'm Proud of a C (5/24/21)

I'm really proud of this C. I never thought I'd be a parent who said that. I've always been pretty hardcore on getting good grades. Not in the "I expect straight As" way, but "Cs are hard for me to stomach" way. That being said, I always tell my kids that I expect your best. If you try your hardest, then that's all I can ask.

Math has been a struggle for my daughter since switching schools a couple of years ago. Common Core wasn't taught at her old school; it was the math that mom knew—old school math. I have watched her struggle. I have watched her work hard to learn. I've seen the tears of frustration as she worked hard to understand the concepts. I've watched her put in the extra hours of tutoring and work to make sure she passed.

It's been frustrating to watch. It's hard watching your kid struggle. It's tough to resist the urge of handing them the answers so it can be done and over with for both of us. I have to remind myself there's nothing learned in that, and it's hard. She doesn't see it now—mostly she sees the struggle and the work, but it's building her.

It's building her to work through the hard stuff because math won't be her only obstacle. It's building her to know you won't always be the best, but you can be the best you. It's building her to know she can do things on her own, but it's OK to ask for help, too.

It's also building me. It's reminding me that perfection isn't the goal. The goal is grit, integrity, and determination. It's reminding me that my expectations may not be reality and that I have to adjust with each child's ability. It's reminding me to appreciate the things that come easily and love hard through the frustration of what doesn't. It's reminding me that so much more is coming out of this than just the letter I see on a report card.

Right now, I'm proud of a C. Right now, I'm choosing to accept it is the best and she's giving it her all and that's all I can truly ask. Right now, I grateful I get to see her grow through this. Right now, I know one day I'll look back and know this hard part was just a stepping stone to building the amazing future she has.

Right now, I celebrate the hard work that went into getting a C—and that's enough for me.

I Am With You (4/15/21)

When you feel like you can’t breathe.

When you’re lying in bed silently crying

When you’ve cried the prayers of “what’s wrong with me?”

When you’ve contemplated sending the kids elsewhere so you too could leave, even just for a day.

When the shame of those thoughts buries your soul.

When you’re trying to hold it together because you are the glue that holds it all together.

When your motto has been blessed and living that to the fullest.

Where do you go?

Who can you share this with? 

The fear of judgment and shaming is overwhelming.

The idea that somehow feeling like this makes you ungrateful for this beautiful life you’ve been given.

When you know how blessed you are and these feelings crept in out of nowhere.

This isn’t you, or any version of the you that you’ve ever known.

When you question everything that you’ve known and felt confident in.

When you wonder how to pull it back together.

When you know you have to put the parts back together because nobody else functions when you’re not on your A-game.

When you feel unseen.

When you feel unheard. 

When you feel it all, but you lack the words to speak and feel like there’s nowhere to turn.

Friend, I see you. 

I’ve been you.

I’ve never been one who’s struggled with anxiety or depression.

I’ve never questioned the path and the obstacles I faced.

I never felt alone . . . until I did.

I’ve felt like my world was crumbling. 

I’ve felt like I had nowhere to turn.

I’ve felt like nobody could understand the shame I felt . . . about what? The feeling that it was falling apart.

I’ve felt like I had to keep it all together for them, for the outward appearance to everyone who wasn’t inside the walls of our home.

I’ve laid in bed silently sobbing, wondering how to run away for a while and get it all back together.

I’ve wondered why nobody sees how hurt and broken I feel.

Nobody’s seen or asked because I’ve made a great effort to keep the outward look perfect.

Nobody in the house knows because I cry silent tears.

If I fail, we fail.

I feel ashamed because I know how blessed, blessed beyond measure I am. 

Friend, I know your pain. 

I know what it’s like to ask God to make it all better and feel like you’re not hearing the how in His answer.

I know how lonely all of it combined makes you feel.

Hear me now.

I am with you. 

I see you. 

You are not broken.

You are human.

A beautiful soul that was created for more than that lonely moment.

Keep crying out your prayers, He hears them.

Don’t keep the pain inside for the sake of others.

Your story is made to help others grow. 

Your story regardless of how many seemingly broken pieces is a beautiful story.

A story others will grow from.

A story you will grow from.

One day, you’ll look back and see how far you’ve come.

You’ll see the gray and black moments made you appreciate the vibrant colors.

You’ll see the healing that took place in the moments of pain.

You’ll see that all along you were beautifully blessed, and you’re so much stronger because of it.

Having times of struggle doesn’t make us weak. 

It makes us cling.

Cling to the One who holds our lives.

Cling to the ones we love.

Cling to the parts of our life that are important and let go of the rest.

When it feels like it’s all falling apart, your story isn’t over. 

There is no shame in the struggle.

There is pride in the overcoming.

Friend, I am with you. I’ve been you. If you need an ear, I can be that person.

Please never feel like I did—that nobody will understand.

Please don’t feel like you will be judged.

Our story begins when we allow ourselves to heal.

Through our healing, others heal as well.

This is the rawest picture I’ve ever written about myself.

Let my pain and my healing be the beginning of yours.

Friend, I am with you, so is He.

Books (4/2/21)

Guys, changing over your kids' bookshelf from board books to chapter books is a different kind of heart break...

As I Let You Go (3/24/21)

Right now you’re hard. You bury yourself away. I know it’s mostly to escape your siblings. It feels like you’re pushing away more than you’re clinging to. I get it, that’s part of being 13. But man it’s hard. It’s hard on your mama’s heart because I want to pull you close and still be your favorite person like I was when you were younger.

I hear you laugh downstairs at shows I don’t understand. You want to be with your friends more than you want to be with us. Having to hang for required family night brings out your protests almost weekly, though you know it’s a thing.

Again, I get it—you’re finding who you are.

Then there are days like today. Today when you sang your little sisters’ favorite bedtime songs to them, I thought my heart would melt. Tonight when you told me you miss me letting you pick the movie for family movie night and having extra talks because it made you feel special, my heart sang. I miss that too—so, so much. When you told me you didn’t mind a side hug when your friends were around, just not a full-on hug, I smiled big, real big.

I need moments like that. I need to know you still need me. I need to know the special little things we do like sing songs, make a difference. My mama heart needs that. I need to know that we’ve given you wings to fly, but you know I’m your safe place. While I don’t expect you to use those words, I now know I’m alright enough in your book to make physical contact in front of your friends, and that’s pretty darn special when you’re the mom of a teenager.

God knew what He was doing when He spaced you out from your siblings. He knew you being the oldest would be hard on this mama’s heart.

Learning to let go when I want to cling tight is an art I’m still learning. He knew I’d need your siblings to be at an age where they still think I’m the greatest thing since sliced bread. When you push and I have to let go, their arms are there for a ready hug. They’re there for me to make those memories with, which I hope will be my reprieve when they hit their teenage years.

I know you’re learning who you are without me, and I’m trying hard to let it happen.  The truth is, I’m trying to learn who I am without you needing me all of the time. We’re navigating this thing together, kiddo. Just like we’ve done since day one, we’ll figure it out. This hard part will pass, the more we figure out. You’ll learn to fly, and I’ll be beaming with pride when you take off.

In the meantime, I’ll cherish days like today when I get to see glimpses of the girl who thought I hung the moon and who’ll keep me going through the hard times, and hopefully, it’ll keep you going too.

You’ve got my heart kiddo, and I’m here for all of the ups and downs no matter how hard it is on this mama heart of mine.

Dream Big in a Small Town (3/6/21)

Dream big—as parents, educators, professionals, and leaders we say those words a lot. We encourage kids not to settle, to reach for the stars. We want them to believe they are capable of doing and becoming anyone or anything their hearts desire. Oftentimes, the dream big idea encourages the idea of leaving where you are and where you’re from.

I distinctly remember giving a presentation to a group and one of the final things I said to them was, “It’s OK to live in a small town, there’s value in it.” Another professional in the room took issue with my statement saying she didn’t want them to settle. I don’t think dreaming big means settling if it keeps or lands you in a small town.

Small towns have value. Residing in one and making your dreams come true there is just as valuable as those whose dreams lead them elsewhere.

Sure there’s always glamor in big city lights. We all love the excitement and the possibilities those lights hold. They represent something, whether it be financial freedom, your name in lights, or access at your fingertips, there’s certainly an allure. Not all dreams begin and end there though. Not all dreams require the bright lights and breaking away.

I want my kids to dream big. I tell them that they can be anything they want to be, and I believe it. I believe it because I want them to believe it too. I don’t want to limit their dreams—dreams are what motivate us, what give us ambition to pursue life.

But, I don’t want my kids to think the only way to obtain their dreams is to leave where they’re from.

I’ve seen dreams come to life in a small town. Dreams of opening a business happen in small town USA. Dreams of revitalizing a town that others have written off.  Dreams of owning a home, of having a family, dreams of happiness—they can all be found right there in small town USA. I’ve seen my dreams come true, and I continue to dream big and push on to the next big dream right here in my small town. It can happen.

Dream big. Don’t settle. Don’t forget who you are. Don’t discount your dream or its value if it places you in a small town. You’ll find your dreams can grow there and provide value to those around you if you keep dreaming and believing.