Help! MOM GUILT! Before our babies are even born, we wonder if we are doing everything right by our child. Am I eating healthy enough? I forgot to take my vitamins. After they are born, it doesn’t subside. EVER. Am I playing enough with my toddler? Am I allowing too much screen time? Am I strict enough? Too strict? I yelled at them for not making their bed. I let my middle schooler quit soccer in the middle of the season. Why don’t I want to spend time with my pre-teen? I shouldn’t go back to work. We need the money for college. Should I have taken away my teen’s cell phone? Am I enabling my adult son?
AM I DOING IT ALL RIGHT ALL THE TIME? Mom guilt.
Join me today as I talk with two moms of toddlers, one who works outside the home (my daughter Sarah) and one who stays home (my daughter Sarah’s close friend, Elizabeth Enns Petters – known as Lizz). We tackle this universal mom language and we uncover some valuable insights into combatting this monster. Sarah and Lizz are wise, young, smart, capable, kick-butt moms who teach this old-timer some new tricks on keeping this beast corralled and even quieted down. You don’t want to miss out!
One of my favorite parts of being a mom is when all my children are in the same room, sleeping under the same roof and sitting around the same table. I can see their huge bodies curled up in a ball on the couch, hear their voices singing in the shower, and give them hugs like I never want to let them go. I am with them and my heart is happy. Right now, in this season of momhood, sadness comes knowing it’s temporary and that I stay here and they go there.
It’s true. I am still with them. I cheer for them in their triumphs, am sad for their struggles and pain, and plop my mom heart down next to theirs during the every day stuff of life. I want them to know in the depths of their souls that they are not alone.
But this is also true. I am not with them the way I used to or even want to be. This is the hard part, the letting go part, the budding adult part, the “trusting God” part.
God is with them even more than I could ever be. He’s not limited physically like me. That calms my heart when I can’t be there in bodily mom form. He reaches them in places that I will never be able to touch. He is the only One who can do that. I rest there.
He also doesn’t have weird mom agendas for them like I do. He doesn’t lecture them to “get their act together” like I might. He doesn’t have fear when they don’t like I might. He is just with them. I rest there.
He doesn’t try to fix everything for them like I’ve been known to do (cough cough). He lets them be right where they are, in all their good and bad choices, and sits beside them in all of them, holding them close to His heart. He loves them no matter what. I rest there.
He believes in them even when they might not believe in themselves. When they can’t see their own goodness and value, He reminds them gently. He is fiercely committed to them for their whole life, actually forever. He isn’t going anywhere. I rest there.
The Lord Himself goes before you and will be with you. He will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.”
I’m soaking this into my soul today: God goes before me. He goes before them. He’s with me. He’s with them. God will never leave me. He will never leave them. Take courage, sweet heart of mine. REST. RIGHT. THERE.
Please don’t forget to “LIKE” the post on social media! I know it means you have to “go back out and click on something,” but it would mean the world to me!!!
If you have the great privilege to meet Brian Herbert Maret, you immediately like him, but more importantly, you immediately feel liked. Did you catch that? You immediately feel liked. Listen again. You immediately feel liked. This is the man I call Dad.
Yes. My dad is a gardener and can grow a mean crop of tomatoes. Yes. He’s a missionary and has lived his life serving the God he loves. Yes. He’s a sports fanatic and will watch almost anything with a ball in it. Yes. He packs the best boxes in the safest ways for shipping items all the way to Africa or even New Jersey. Yes. He loves fishing and touching worms and pulling out all the hooks that get lodged in places fish (and squeamish daughters) are not happy about. Yes. He’s a husband who has loved my mom for more than 63 years. Yes. He is all those things and so much more.
Nature and/or nurture passed down only some of those things to me. No. I am not a gardener. Yes. I love God. Yes. I’m a sports fanatic. No. I can’t pack a box to ship across the street, much less to Africa. No. I don’t like catching fish or touching worms or pulling out hooks. Yes. I love my husband and hope to make it to 63 years (28 and counting – check it out HERE).
BUT BUT BUT…
There’s a few more powerful life lessons he shared with methat made me be a better mom (and a better human)…
1. GET DOWN ON THE FLOOR
For as long as I can remember and especially during my young mom years, the image I have of my dad is ON THE FLOOR surrounded by children (and toys and crafts and books). The key is ON THE FLOOR. At their level. Doing what they love.
One day, I watched my daughter crouch down to speak with a child who was asking her questions. I asked her why she did that and she responded, “I learned that from you, Mom. It shows basic respect for them, even though they are little.” “Oh my goodness,” I said, “I learned that from my dad. It just comes automatically.”
Thanks, Dad, for helping me to “get down on the floor” with my own children and those I don’t even know very well, to be a respecter of persons, no matter whether they are two or 92, brown-skinned or blue-eyed, the King of Ethiopia or the poor Somali boy with no shoes. Based on the podcasts I have done with my now child-adults, this idea of respect at all costs for all people seems to have struck their deepest chord. Thanks, Dad.
2. TALK TO STRANGERS IN GROCERY STORE LINES
I know how to embarrass my kids. That’s for sure. Especially when my two youngest were teens. I talked to strangers in strange places, but especially in grocery store lines. If they were wearing a Steelers hat, I would strike up a conversation about the latest game they lost or won. If their cart was filled with healthy fare, I would make some comment of admiration, knowing my checkout receipt was laden with Cheetos, Gogurts and frozen pizza. To add to the problem, their older brother joined in the fun! They, however, hoping to avoid this horrible atrocity of connection, would rebuke me quietly in my ear or poke me in the ribs, reminding me that we were just here to shop and get home.
I was a little kinder to my dad when he did this very thing (probably because I secretly loved it). It wasn’t just grocery store lines. It was the man sitting next to him at a sporting event. It was the new neighbor getting their mail. It was the teenager crabbing on the same pier. I am still kind to him when he does it and in fact, I spark up the conversation right along with him.
Thanks, Dad, for teaching me that people, and even my own kids, want to be known and seen and heard. That you can always find that “something” that provides the sacred space of human connection and by doing so, reminding each one that they are of great value. Thanks, Dad, that finally, my now 19-year-old admitted to me (the last time it happened) that she “gets it” and that she actually likes that part of me. Thanks, Dad, for passing along that trait and your friendly self to my second-born who is relentless in his pursuit of a common connection with those he meets (as one of his friends reminded me just yesterday).
3. MOW LAWNS THAT AREN’T YOUR OWN AND KEEP IT A SECRET
I found out recently that my eighty-something parents drive their widowed, ninety-something neighbor to get groceries. Lots of secrets were kept about these very kinds of things. I would find out from others all the little (sometimes big), kind, generous, unseen gestures that my dad would do for them. Mowing lawns (“I’m outside anyway.”), washing endless dishes every night when we were teens, sharing zucchini from his beloved garden, giving money to the poorer at a time he was poor himself, praying every single morning for us kids and now his grandchildren (along with my mom), and of course, so many things that are still a secret.
Thanks, Dad, for encouraging me during those unseen times of being a mom (countless loads of laundry, lunches made, sleepless nights and booboos kissed…something I now have in common with my own child-mom). Thanks for reminding me that it all counts (not just the stuff that’s noticed), that nothing is too little, that each ordinary act of kindness makes me a better mom and the world a better place, a place where God and all His kindness, generosity, and many times unnoticed Self is revealed to those who need it most.
HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, DAD! And all you other amazing dads out there! It’s your day and I celebrate you!
What happens when you lose your dad eight hours after your first baby is born and then lose your husband one month before your second baby is born?
How do you survive, much less thrive as a parent in the middle of a hugely difficult season, and even a lifetime of loss?
On my Dolly Mama podcast, my friend and young mom, Becky McCoy, tackles the topic of parenting and grieving at the same time. Becky is a mom to two young children ages six and four and a very brave hope-bringer right in the middle of her heartbreak.
She answers tough questions about her own beautiful and messy grief process. She reminds us that there are ALL kinds of loss in our lives and we ALL have to navigate some kind of grief in the middle of our parenting season, even though many times we might not even recognize it as such.
As you listen, you will want her to “keep on talking” as I did, gleaning so much goodness not only from what she says, but who she is. We cry (well I do) and laugh lots which, in and of itself, hints to some of the profound wisdom you will hear from her. My biggest surprises are the VERY universal parenting truths that grief forced her to learn so very early on.
If you need encouragement today (she has one particular thought I can’t wait for you to hear) and you want to have HOPE for your parenting journey, you have come to the right place! Don’t miss out!
“There’s a boy who stole my heart. He calls me mom.” (I have no idea where this came from)
YOU ARE THE ONE, Joshua Brian Goetz, who burst on the scene on April 4, 1996, weighing in at 9 pounds and 13 ounces (yikes!).
YOU ARE THE ONE who started out with baby acne and a fairly largish head and I felt mild pity for (just being honest) and a lot of extra love.
YOU ARE THE ONE who became the most adorable baby with your year-long toothless smile (so much for my pity party).
YOU ARE THE ONE who took three naps until you were one, giving this tired mommy a much-needed respite from handling three little ones under five!
YOU ARE THE ONE who sat with books in your crib for hours, happily “reading.” (Little did we know then that you are a high introvert and this was your plot to have some peace and quiet away from your hovering and excitable siblings.)
YOU ARE THE ONE who would only color with the orange crayon.
YOU ARE THE ONE who had all 150 Pokemon characters memorized and their “moves” when you were only three!
YOU ARE THE ONE we called Spot because you have had EVERY. SINGLE. POSSIBLE. RASH known to the medical community (you just had another one two months ago)!
YOU ARE THE ONE who hid behind the couch every time I left the room and jumped out and yelled “SURPRISE!” when I returned (one of my all-time best memories)!
YOU ARE THE ONE who wore some kind of cape everywhere we went, which morphed from a bandana to a full-fledged home-made BAT cape! You were my little superhero for sure!
YOU ARE THE ONE who drew on the hood of our friend’s brand new SAAB with a rock you found (cha-ching, cha-ching).
YOU ARE THE ONE that ONLY wanted a State Quarter Map for Christmas when you were four (we still have it in your room and it is full of quarters)!
YOU ARE THE ONE who organized all your outfits in your drawers and were mildly (okay, not so mildly) obsessed with shoes for years and years and years (who gets Famous Footwear gift certificates when they are just a young boy)!
YOU ARE THE ONE who fell sledding and ended up in a country hospital emergency room with stitches (which I had to take out because we moved three days later)!
YOU ARE THE ONE who asked this question when you were just 5 1/2: “Mom, if Jesus was Jewish, did He believe in Himself?”
YOU ARE THE ONE who did a cannonball into our indoor tub (it was kind of a big tub; I will grant you that).
YOU ARE THE ONE who filled our house with singing. I knew you were sick when it stopped and you were better when it started up again (you still sing today)!
YOU ARE THE ONE who always had a bucket and a net in your hand, catching all the creatures in lakes, gardens, ponds, rivers, and our backyard!
YOU ARE THE ONE who was rushed to the emergency room with a tonsil abscess and needles were poked into your throat and you threw up all over the doctor! You obviously lived to tell the tale!
YOU ARE THE ONE who had every kind of lizard and reptile as a pet (from anoles to geckos to bearded dragons).
YOU ARE THE ONE who was Hot Rod Hanson in the summer musical, girls swooning around you as you belted out your notes.
YOU ARE THE ONE who almost caught our house on fire with your water gun filled with lighter fluid in one hand and the BIC grill lighter in the other.
YOU ARE THE ONE who was fascinated by your lacrosse stick, walking constantly around the house with it, and eventually figuring out how to string it yourself!
YOU ARE THE ONE who made weird faces when playing on your game system, your mouth moving in all the directions of the controller.
YOU ARE THE ONE who broke your clavicle because you were chosen to play in a lacrosse tournament with the big kids. Emergency room #3!
YOU ARE THE ONE who was Gaston in the middle school play, Beauty and the Beast, again girls swooning around you as you belted out your notes (this time right before your voice changed – Gaston never sounded so feminine – and I don’t think “every last inch of you was covered with hair”)!
YOU ARE THE ONE who played on four basketball teams in Eighth Grade (no wonder your grades slipped into an uncomfortable place for this mama)!
YOU ARE THE ONE who watched the Office non-stop for about four years (I think you are still watching it).
YOU ARE THE ONE who grew about eight inches in one year, going from one of the shorter guards on your basketball team to one of the “big men.”
YOU ARE THE ONE who was obsessed with purple and penguins and hats (with the flat brim) and game systems and legos.
YOU ARE THE ONE who had a kids’ Batman backpack all of high school (yes, even into your senior year)!
YOU ARE THE ONE who had a 1 in 100,000 people knee injury your junior year playing basketball. After surgery, nine months of recovery and two more surgeries, we are crossing our fingers it’s finally healed!
YOU ARE THE ONE who got your ears pierced at sixteen much to my chagrin (you did take care of them much to my happy surprise – and you don’t wear them any more much to my “I-don’t-care-anymore-what-you-do” attitude).
YOU ARE THE ONE who bought kitten and lamb folders for your senior school year (you never ever ever ever ever cared about what anyone thought about you).
YOU ARE THE ONE who wrapped your arms around me one day when I was afraid and said, “It’s all going to be okay, Mom” (I recall you doing that again just last week).
YOU ARE THE ONE who beat everyone at Poker all the time. Enough said.
YOU ARE THE ONE who told your basketball coach not to put you in the starting line up your Senior Year, that you wanted to be the Sixth Man coming off the bench (WHO DOES THAT?!?).
YOU ARE THE ONE who proudly donned your “Raritan Valley Community College” t-shirt on “Decision Day,” while all your friends sported their VIP universities.
YOU ARE THE ONE who broke your hand playing in a Charity game and pretended your cast was a fashion accessory. (Most of our mom/son memories have come in that “room” at the doctor waiting endlessly for the knock on the door. We have had more than enough time to solve all the world’s problems).
YOU ARE THE ONE who wore a Batman shirt under your prom tux and painted (well Sarah painted) the Batman symbol on your graduation cap, a constant reminder of the superhero that you are!
YOU ARE THE ONE who took a Gap Year before you went to college, again being your own person and not falling in line with everyone else. (It was one of the best decisions you’ve ever made and we loved having the bonus time with you.)
YOU ARE THE ONE who broke up and got back together with your girlfriend at least four or five times (we scolded you a lot about this) and she has stuck it out with you for seven whole years!
YOU ARE THE ONE who jumped off a fifty-foot cliff into the waters of the Pacific Ocean on a whim (so so so glad I found out about this after you lived through it).
YOU ARE THE ONE who built your own computer with Lego Batman holding up the graphics card.
YOU ARE THE ONE who decided to major in psychology even though you don’t like people all that much. Of course. Of course.
YOU ARE THE ONE who wants to know a million random facts about anything and everything from why non-poisonous snakes flatten their heads when they are threatened to whether or not “pronunciate” is a real word (those are just the two from this past week).
YOU ARE THE ONE who became fixated on headphones and you actually write reviews on the internet for the subculture of headphone lovers. (Your college graduation gift is to get custom headphones made for your unique ears.)
YOU ARE THE ONE who did not walk at your college graduation because ceremonies just don’t cut it for you.
YOU ARE THE ONE who I can talk to about everything spiritual, cerebral and you always have an opinion about the subject matter at hand (kind of like your mama). Our banter is my favorite.
YOU ARE THE ONE who is still pulling Batman shirts over your head some mornings (I personally think you are way cooler than Batman)!
YOU ARE THE ONE who I am so thankful to have shared the last 23 years with. There is no one else quite like you. Really. Seriously. No one.
YOU ARE THE ONE who will always march to the beat of your own drum (or play a completely different instrument).
I don’t have to discipline my child so that they don’t embarrass me (in public) – especially the child that has a real knack for that! (Jennifer Holmes)
My popcorn-eating, ice-chewing, overall-wearing, quirky teen actually grew up to be a popcorn-eating, ice-chewing quirky adult (she stopped wearing overalls thank goodness)! (moms of one-of-a-kinders)
Being stuck in a certain stage for the rest of my life is a total lie! (Martha Grimm Brady) No stage lasts forever. (Kelly) Being up at 4 am with my newborn sixteen nights in a row doesn’t mean it will be seventeen nights in a row. (Melony)
“Different” does not equal “less than.” I am not doing anything wrong just because I have unique kiddos. (Sue)
Being a mom exposes my vulnerability like nothing else. Brave into it every time. When I feel overwhelmed, lost, and emotionally spent, I might be surprised to find the deep peace of God. (Brenda Seefeldt Amodea)
I do not have to take everything SO seriously!! Have FUN and relax. (Karen)
I’m glad that I was, in the words of my daughter, committed to leisure 😊❤️ (Marilyn Gardner)
The everyday moments are the glue and foundation of my future relationship with my adult children. What seems ordinary at the time becomes precious. (Debbie)
Let them see me sweat, cry, try and fail and say I’m sorry! (Brooke McGillivray) . Just because they are little people doesn’t mean they don’t deserve a big apology. (Carrie)
A mother’s gut instinct about her child is just about always right. I don’t have to second guess myself. (Val)
How important it is to surround myself with other moms, especially those who are a season ahead of me. It takes a village to care for the village. I am not alone in how I feel. (Shelby Spear)
99% of the time what I worried about NEVER happened! (Susan)
Parent my kids according to their unique needs. Study them to figure that out. (Debbie Jones Warren)
Beautiful, firm boobs are highly overrated. (Every mom everywhere)
What my kids did wasn’t personal even if it felt like it. It was all part of them trying out things appropriate to their stages of growth: like my busy little guy doing toothpaste art on the bathroom mirror or my teen keeping secrets. (Julie Miller Elder)
Make them get a job and pay for their own cell phones. (Pam)
It’s healthy for my kids to ask questions about their faith. I didn’t need to have all the answers and it would take bravery in working it out alongside of them. (Therese)
The impact of sugar and carbs on the body and mind. I might have cooked a little less pasta. That’s tough to say coming from a big Italian family. (Shirley)
Having a half-naked two-year old running around my house peeing on the carpet (and once every so often making it to the toilet) is completely normal. (Desperate potty-training moms)
Get into my kids’ world and discover what makes them “them” AND also invite them into my world and what makes me “me.” (Aimee Welch)
It’s NOT all up to me. I can’t take all the credit, but more importantly, I can’t take all the blame. (JoAnn)
This mom thing is not for sissies. It is a wonderful gift AND the most challenging thing I will ever do. There is nothing that could have prepared me for my heart to be walking around outside of myself with no way to control what happens. But the joy, oh the joy that comes from driving out to the boondocks at 3:00 in the morning to pick up a bunch of tipsy high school seniors. That joy comes from years of building trust, it is worth every minute of dusty floors and unfolded laundry, every book and every lego you step on in the middle of the night. (Katie Spiller Kibbe)
It’s so important to ask for help. Don’t wait to throw up the white flag. (Sue)
My five-year old wearing a full-Batman suit or Disney Princess costume with high heels makes every other mom in the grocery store give me the “I get you” mom side-eye. (subculture of moms of costume wearers)
In the very painful moments of parenting when God seems to say nothing, when my children are suffering, He is not resting, but active. (Roey)
Provide time for myself. Purposeful self-care might have helped me enjoy the kids more. (Sandy Sheridan) Put your own oxygen mask on before you assist others. (flight attendant moms)
It’s not about being the perfect mom. It’s about having the perfect God. (Bethany)
They WILL sleep through the night. (Recovering sleep-deprived moms)
It’s just as important to accept, value, nurture, love, honor and delight in myself as well as my kids! (Annie)
I am going to be okay no matter what! (Esther)
WE ARE IN THIS GIANT MOM LIFE BOAT TOGETHER! LET’S KEEP PUTTING PRESERVERS ON EACH OTHER AS WE NAVIGATE THIS SOMETIMES PEACEFUL AND OTHER TIMES STORMY SEA!
“She was an adventurer at heart. But oh how she loved drinking this tea in this mug in this chair. Oh how she loved to be home.” (Google Images)
When you hurriedly trekked up the sidewalk with your then 10-year-old in a whirlwind house-hunting trip in August of 2002 and opened the door at 23 Cedar Hollow Drive, DID YOU KNOW?
Did you know…
the neighbor boy that walked through the door the day you moved in would become one of your son’s life-long friends and your son would share the weight of pall-bearer at his dad’s funeral eight years later?
music would fill the living room and your baby would fall in love with the guitar and piano and her playing and singing would be a gift to your soul and you miss these moments terribly?
23 Cedar Hollow Drive would be brimming with boatloads of love for and from almost every species of animal, from snakes, to dogs, to cats, to hamsters, to fish(that wouldn’t die), to every assortment of lizard and now there is only one left?
your marriage, faltering at best, would become a place of hope and healing for dozens and dozens of young couples on the verge of their own life-long journey of marriage? (in fact, you are spending time with one of them again this morning)
your nervous decision to construct a pool granted a space for family, friends, teammates, youth groups, classmates, neighbors and even strangers to rejuvenate and be refreshed? (water gun fights and subsequent peals of laughter did just the trick)
first days of school and dance pictures and phone conversations filled with both laughter and tears would mark your front stoop (and who knows, maybe some goodnight kisses by young lovers)?
extended family would gather for holidays and normal days, where sports teams would be cheered for, good food would be eaten, games (and some arguments over those games) would be played, and most significantly, unbreakable bonds would be formed?
your young daughter, struggling with severe OCD and the inability to go away even for a week would receive help through counselors and would now be a flourishing wife, teacher and mom?
an actual wedding ceremony would be performed in your living room because the bride and groom thought the church was located in your town and got their marriage license in the wrong place?
annual Easter Egg hunts (or should I say money hunts) created a place for teens and budding adults to still be kids in all the best ways?
endless art supplies and crafts from your artist would be haphazardly strewn over all available surfaces and one of those works would be still hanging proudly in your family room for your prospective buyers to see and admire?
birthdays would be celebrated in all their simplicity and sometimes complexity, giving room for sharing reasons why the one whose day it was to be honored was loved (and even liked)?
every kind of sport uniform would be thrown in heaps on your kitchen floor and not-so-carefully cleaned in your laundry room, providing a place of community and friendship for your kids? (even as you write this, two of your son’s high school teammates are asleep with your 23-year-old in the basement)
your finished basement would be filled with sleep-overs and left-overs and hang-overs and do-overs and make-overs and probably thousands of humans entered those doors?
your outdoorsy son, content to spread mulch, carefully prune bushes and chop wood with his dad, would be happiest at his job doing the same? (and he would embrace your sports teams to the full)
your family room couch would become the healing place for illnesses too numerous to count, unforeseen and planned surgeries, along with the comforting spot to take a mental health recovery day and that you let your kids skip school for only this reason (oh how far you’ve come)?
small groups filled with lasting and abiding friendships would meet, pouring over books and videos, praying through heartache, celebrating joys, living the ups and downs of life and kids and marriage and…and…and.. (one of them still met last night right in your family room)?
the pony-tailed 10-year-old around the corner and school-bus seat mate would become one of your firstborn’s closest friends, bridesmaid fourteen years later and Auntie Taylor to your grandson?
a baby in your womb would be lost yet your heart would be born anew?
your game-boy playing first-grader would help you to create your new podcast and be a regular and wise guest?
early Christmas mornings would be filled with children (and even now adults) sitting on your bed opening surprises (and not-surprises) through sleepy, yet curious and excited eyes?
a nervous breakdown would seek to destroy you but a life-long journey toward healing and wholeness would begin and continue today and that a writer’s quest would result?
homework would be finished (or not-so-much), college applications would be filled out, but most important, hearts would be taught to love and hope and apologize and respect and give and continue to learn?
your basement would be the place for a barely sprouting church youth group of eight teens and three leaders that is now hundreds strong?
warm fires would be built inside and out, where stories were shared, sleep was encouraged, s’mores were eaten, and life-giving memories were created?
fights would break out, doors would be slammed, harsh words would be spoken, yet subsequent apologies would be made and forgiveness would be granted? Love and trust would be painstakingly built brick by brick?
your two-year old would happen upon a friend in first grade and after endless sleepovers, birthday parties and bring-a-friend vacations, their college hearts would be knit together even though hundreds of miles separate them?
your glass kitchen door would be filled with chore charts and yearly memorabilia, bird-feeder and deck-flower views, and sun-soaked floors for pets to relax and sleep blissfully?
seventeen New Year’s Eves would be celebrated, some quiet with tired bodies barely making it until midnight and others loud with friends singing God Bless America on the stoop after a long-night of Bunco?
a new love would come bearing another new love?
religion would be shed over and over and Jesus would rise in its place to become the healer of your heart and the lover of your soul?
you and Allen would be more in love than you thought was even possible?
Did you know…
Thankful tears would flow because this house is a true haven of healing and that as you leave it, your prayer is the same for the next set of feet that trek up the sidewalk and open your front door and make this their home?
Yes. This you now know. You know ALL of it.
If you’ve made it this far and you like this, I am asking if you could go back out on social media where you came from and “Like” it! Makes a huge difference in how much it gets read and/or shared. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!
And that’s when I heard it, “Hold space for them.”
“Hold space for them? What does that mean?” I asked God.
I sat there in my car in the parking lot of the addiction rehab I taught at and knew God was calling me to embark on a journey with these women. As I hung up the phone, I was caught by a sweep of His presence, as I felt the answer to my question settle in my spirit…Just show up every week and be there for them. Be present to their pain.
It’s been almost a year since I heard those words, “Hold space.” I’ve learned to stay present without a response. Without turning away from the pain of others. Loving without saying a word, giving each other space to feel. I’ve learned “holding space” is a beautiful way to sit with them in their pain. It’s finding the depth of love necessary to allow them to feel without judgment, without rushing in to clean it up or fix it. It’s standing beside one another offering hope without saying a word.
A few months ago, the Holy Spirit sweetly asked, “Yeah, but do you know how to hold space for yourself?”
Hold space for me? There’s no time for that.
I’m learning what this means. In a season of five active kids, a dad fighting for his life, and a husband with a demanding job I’m finding I need more time for me. Often times our own self takes a back seat during busy seasons. The thing is, we can’t afford not to take care of our own soul. This is why David spoke to his soul, “Find rest, O my soul, in God alone” (Ps. 62:1,5). We live unawakened lives when we neglect our souls.
Join as I’m a guest on The Dolly Mama and the Millennials podcast where we talk about ways to hold space for ourselves and why it’s important. Laugh and cry with us for thirty minutes as we explore the need for soul-care and how to do that during this busy journey of motherhood.
“Today you are you. That is truer than true. There is no one alive that is youer than you.” (Dr. Seuss)
Being a parent means supporting our kids to be fully who they are, not who we are or think they should be. It’s not about creating “Mini-MEs” but about birthing “YOUs”!!
For me, it means processing math lessons and listening to crazy student behavior with my teacher daughter, along with reminding her of how great of a mom she is on those tough days with a toddler (#allofthem)
It means hearing stories about ride-on mowers almost flipping over and buying chocolate muffins from Costco for my landscaper son.
It means asking (and then actually listening to the response) about the latest headphones on the market and being okay with my senior not wanting to walk at his college graduation.
Today, it means sitting in the back of a dark Sony sound studio after a very long flight and short night of sleep with my recording arts major watching her heart come alive and her dream come true! She does know what all those buttons do!
It’s not easy. It means we are stretched farther than we ever thought possible as we put aside our longing to hold them close and safe with the better choice of releasing them into the adventure of their own journeys!
What ways (big and small) are you doing this today for those you love??
What happens when your child can’t fall asleep because they are beating themself up for their mistakes made that day? You as a mom grapple with your own perfectionism? See the same struggles in your child that you have? Join me as I interview Jackie Thompson, a very gentle, wise, honest hope-bringer of two young children ages 5 and 8. Jackie is a fourth-grade teacher and pastor’s wife who juggles working full-time and caring for her two precious children, along with being a wife, daughter, friend and mentor. Explore a key parenting concept we’ve both learned the hard way, and how we imperfectly navigate it along our own mom journeys. Laugh and cry and say, “Hmm. Me too.” with us for 30 minutes as you get a sneak-peak behind the scenes of the beautiful, but messy motherhood path we are on. The good news is that you will find hope for your own!