Parenthood – Page 3 – The Dolly Mama

Anxiety, Faith, Family, Mental Health, motherhood

Two Desperate Words of All Parents (and what to do about them)

Posted on January 27, 2019January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

“The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love.” (Paul)

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“BUT I…”

It’s a cry heard all over parenting land.

BUT I took my prenatal vitamins and I did exactly what the doctor told me. Why does my baby have a heart defect?

BUT I waited until she was “ready” for potty training and I followed the exact steps that worked for all my friends. Why is my six year old still wetting the bed?

BUT I had him evaluated and got him a specialized tutor. Why is his teacher still telling me he’s not doing well in school?

BUT I gave up my job and made her a complete priority in my life, even leaving cute notes in her lunch. Why is she rolling her eyes at me and hardly ever coming outside of her room?

BUT I never had liquor in the house and he’s been through all the drug and alcohol awareness programs. He’s even seen his friends lose their licenses. Why did I just find vodka under my senior’s bed?

BUT I took her to church her whole life and we even had family devotions. Why did my college student just reveal that she doesn’t believe in God anymore?

BUT I paid for four years at a good college and I remember the dreams he had growing up about becoming a doctor. Why did he barely receive his diploma and can’t even find a steady-paying job?

BUT I TRIED MY BEST AND LOVED HER WITH MY WHOLE HEART, WHY IS SHE STILL NOT OKAY?

We want so desperately in our lives to have A + B always = C. We want the formulas to work. We get advice from all kinds of sources (friends, parenting books, the internet, pastors, counselors, doctors) and we cry in frustration “BUT I…” when the recipe ends up more like all those Pinterest fails we’ve seen on the internet (note the picture above).

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When I was just a wee bit younger (okay, like 30 years ago, but I’m not that old, right?!), I believed wholeheartedly in all the formulas, and especially that they would work. Why wouldn’t I? It’s perfect. Just do all right things, make all the right choices and life goes the way it should. I’d heard it from preachers, parents, teachers, friends, authors, and I’d repeated it endlessly in my own head. Being the “good Christian” woman that I was, I brought this into my parenting. Of course I did.

As you may have heard in my Podcast with Sarah, our oldest (CLICK HERE TO LISTEN – IT’S WORTH IT), these lovely formulas worked with her. She was naturally compliant. She loved the formulas herself. (If we were Catholic, she probably would have wanted to be a nun.) She followed all the rules, had sticker charts completely filled in, received accolades in school for being the best citizen, and excelled at “being a good Christian” whatever that means. Our formulas seemed to work (especially to the outside world).

But inside our home, they weren’t. She struggled with tummy aches even as early as three. She had full-blown Obsessive Compulsive Disorder at 10 years old. She struggled to go away to sleep away camp for a week when she was 14 because she couldn’t leave the perceived “safety” of our home. She needed meds for her anxiety in college. As much as she and I tried our hardest to make A + B = C, it just didn’t happen. The “right” side of the equal sign became D or J or V or most like a giant question mark.

WHY? I screamed in desperation. I was doing everything right!

Should I just try harder? Maybe I am doing something wrong? Maybe the equation isn’t right? All questions that swirled around in my head.

And believe me, I still tried to fix it for years. I read books, took parenting classes, listened to podcasts, asked friends, had mom prayer circles and even begged Allen to figure it out.

Still, I couldn’t make A + B = C.

New questions swirled. If this doesn’t work, then what? What do I do now? How do I parent? What really makes me a good mom (something I so desperately wanted and still want)?

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It’s funny how when we come to the end of our trying and our finagling and our controlling and our rope and our selves, our hearts open to the possibility of something new. A new thought. A new possibility. A new way.

God used the end of all of this for something new in me. A new thought about what matters in our family. A new possibility of how to be a mom. A new way of seeing my child.

He invited me into relationship, both with Himself and with my children. At first, this uncertain place seemed like a curse. It would take lots more time and wisdom when making decisions. I might not even make the same choice twice. What I did for one child in one circumstance might not be the best for a different one. There might be “it’s unfair” shouts. It would be complicated, messy.

But as I embarked on this different journey of parenting with much trepidation, I found that it just might be a gift, and a good one at that. Instead of living in a “what I wish were true” place, I began to live in a “what’s actually true” space. Life is messy and no amount of “doing the right thing” ensures complete safety and success.

I slowly began to gain freedom from the formula master, one chain link at a time. Instead of viewing my child as a problem to be solved, I began to see them as a mysterious person to be known, loved and enjoyed (kind of like action thriller enjoyment, which is scary and fun all at the same time). Instead of seeking certainty, I began to pursue wisely-placed trust, trust in a wild God, One I can’t control, but One who is completely good and utterly safe. He doesn’t need any formula for my children to thrive and be okay (the real cry of my heart).

My relationship with my kids slowly began to change. Instead of having an agenda (the sum of the equation), I could just BE with them, no matter where they were or what they were doing (good or bad). It was hard for me, like super hard. I know best, especially as a mom. I want what’s best for them. I know how they should get there. But it doesn’t come from the best place. I like a little bit (I mean a lot) of control. But we all know how control works out (see formula above). It doesn’t.

As I turned the tables (another new thought), I realized I don’t want to be anybody else’s agenda or project. Neither do my kids. Instead of “here is what I think you should do, be, act like, etc., I love when others say, “I’m with you,” and that’s the end of it. That’s what my kids want. I don’t want to feel like I’m going to the principal’s office when I am with someone. Neither do my kids. It creates defensiveness, hiding, guilt, shame, people-pleasing, all the yuck we parents are now in counseling for ourselves.

However, when someone is just WITH ME in my beautiful, messy life where sometimes I make bad choices or think terrible thoughts, unconditional love opens the door for vulnerability and trust. THIS is what my kids want. All the good stuff happens the most in this safe place. No one is going to counseling for this.

Now I had a new question. Was it as simple as love God and love others (including those people who’ve been placed in this family under my purview)? Yes.

Formulas are not love. To boot, they don’t work. Loving God is trusting Him (the hardest part of parenting), especially when things don’t go as planned. DON’T FORGET: it is a trust that is wisely placed. IT BRINGS US FREEDOM.

Agendas are also not love. Loving others (our kids) is being WITH them, especially when they are not where we think they should be or want them to be. That’s a love that’s unconditional and safe. IT BRINGS THEM FREEDOM.

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Faith, Family, Mental Health, motherhood, Podcast - Dolly Mama and the Millennials

Faith is a Journey, Not a Guilt Trip (Link to Podcast)

Posted on January 16, 2019January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

Sarah, our first-born, and a mom herself, tackles the tough question about how our faith journey both harmed and helped her during her childhood. What happened when our faith was filled with fear and guilt and behavior-management? What changed when that all began to unravel? How did we change and what was different in how we parented? FIND OUT the wise piece of advice she gives toward the end (you have to listen all the way through) that brought healing in my own life (right on the spot). She reveals something that we ALL need to hear! CLICK ON LINK BELOW!

https://anchor.fm/esther18/episodes/Episode-2-Faith-is-a-Journey–Not-a-Guilt-Trip-Sarahs-Take-e2ro70

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Please share with all the parents you know! It’s about 25 minutes! Perfect for a car ride or doing dishes or going for a walk! You really don’t want to miss it!

Family, motherhood

Is IT All Worth It?

Posted on January 13, 2019January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

Licked a dark smear off my finger and then thought, “Phew. It’s chocolate.” (Moms Everywhere)

You’re up in the middle of the night for the second or third time rocking your colicky newborn to sleep (and this is the 28th night in a row). You are walking zombie during the day at this point and can’t remember how to tie your shoes or even where your shoes are.

You’re carrying out a screaming preschooler from the grocery store because you won’t let them have a second lollipop. They are a sticky mess from the first and now they are hitting you and pulling your hair. You are beyond embarrassed as you feel the burning eyes of others on your frame.

You’re breaking up the 27th fight today between your two youngest children (and they only got home from school two hours ago). You lose it and yell at them, angry with yourself for not having enough patience. Your brain runs to that verse in Isaiah and you plead with God: “WOE IS ME! I AM RUINED. I AM A (WO)MAN OF UNCLEAN LIPS AND LIVE AMONG A PEOPLE OF UNCLEAN LIPS.”

You’re watching your daughter roll her eyes at you and go “huffing and puffing” out of the room all because you said no to that middle school sleepover. It doesn’t seem to matter to her that tomorrow is your mom’s birthday and the whole family is coming over and she told you she would help you get ready.

You’re waiting for sound of the garage door opening for the 10th Saturday in a row. It’s now 11:30 pm and your new driver’s curfew is later than you’ve been awake in 20 years. Your mind races ahead to worst-case scenarios as to why they are not answering your texts. Sleep is futile.

You’re waiting for your child to bounce in the door for spring break, picturing puzzle-making and long talks about her future, only to be met with a quick hug and “Can I have the car keys? I’m headed out with my friends.” Your heart takes a dive as you realize it’s never going to be the same.

You’re talking on the phone with your daughter, a new mother. She informs you that they are NOT coming home for Mother’s Day this year. Images of years gone by and the tradition of the “whole family” being together are wiped out in a moment. You choke out the words as best you can, “It’s okay. I understand.” Tears flow uncontrollably as soon as you hang up the phone.

IS IT ALL WORTH IT? The question circles around in your head, haunting you as you wonder if taking the giant leap into parenting was the worst choice you ever made. What were you thinking?

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You’re gathering your baby from the church nursery and the moment they notice you, their eyes light up, their two-toothed smile fills the room, and their little arms reach for you as if to shout, “You are mine! I am yours! All is right again!”

You’re coming back from being at the grocery store, having only been gone for 30 minutes while your spouse watches your preschooler. You are met with “look what I made for you” and handed a Froot Loop necklace that you proudly display for the next week or two around your neck.

You’re at back-to-school night, sitting at your fourth grader’s desk, listening to the teacher drone on and on about the expectations of the classroom and what is hoped to be learned. You peak inside your child’s folder and they’ve scrawled a note to you, “Surprise ahead. Check under the chair.” You reach down and pull out a green paper heart (at least that’s what you think it is)! A smile creeps to your lips.

You’re sleeping and it’s Christmas morning! Your 13 year-old (who has to be bribed out of bed every morning for school with promises of her favorite bagel) comes bounding into the room at 6:00 am, leaping on you and wrapping her arms around your neck, squeezing tightly. “Can we get our stockings and come onto your bed like we always do? Can I wake everyone else up?” Her child-like, unfiltered excitement tugs your heart strings and you feel full inside.

You’re making dinner and you have forgotten to buy one of the most important ingredients. Your teenager plays video games in the family room. Without realizing it, you berate yourself aloud, “How could you not remember to get this?” A voice shouts from the other room, “I can go get whatever you need from the store. I can drive now.” You send your budding adult on his way, money in hand. You beam inside, thankfulness rising.

You’re reading the book for your woman’s group. Your college daughter left two days ago. You open to the page where you left off and there is a note doodled at the top. “I love you mom.” Happy tears spring to your eyes and you send a text to your two daughters, asking which one of them wrote it (which makes it even happier).

You’re texting your 25 year old what they want for their birthday. They say all they want is a puppy. You work your butt off the next couple of months and find just the right one. You arrive with her and your man-child greets you with hugs and laughter and a stream of “thank yous.” You watch as this giant, tough, bearded landscaper cuddles in the grass with his new baby, letting her crawl all over him, giving gentle words of kindness and love. Your heart swells with pride and joy!

IS IT ALL WORTH IT? The question again circles around in your head, this time sparking renewed hope that taking the giant leap into parenting was the ABSOLUTE BEST choice you ever made. What were you thinking is right!

IT IS ALL WORTH IT (AND THEN SOME)!

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(PS: ALL OF THESE ARE TRUE STORIES FROM YOURS TRULY. YOU HAVE A WHOLE BUNCH OF YOUR OWN! I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR JUST ONE!)

ALSO CAN I SHAMELESSLY ASK YOU TO LIKE THIS POST OUT ON SOCIAL MEDIA IF YOU READ IT AND LIKED IT! IT HELPS IT TO MOVE UP IN THE RANKS INSTEAD OF GET LOST IN THE GIANT SOCIAL MEDIA POT. MEANS THE WORLD TO ME!!!

Faith, Family, Mental Health, motherhood, Podcast - Dolly Mama and the Millennials

OUR BIG THREE (According to Josh) – Link to Dolly Mama and the Millennials Podcast! YAY!

Posted on January 6, 2019January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

I am so excited today! I am launching my first podcast entitled the Dolly Mama and the Millennials! This podcast will be mostly for moms and dads to get help navigating the very beautiful and messy journey of this thing we call parenting!

You will get a behind-the-scenes look at the secrets, struggles and successes of our typical American family (if there is such a thing as typical). My desire is that you would come away from listening to it encouraged on your own journey and receiving the grace you need to keep up the good work you are already doing!

To whet your appetite today, join with me as I interview Josh, our third-born of four adult kids. We explore “our big three” according to him, what he believes we highly valued and esteemed in our parenting and family life. You’ll find out about my mom mantra, “TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF AND YOUR STUFF” and how that kept us from continuing to have those never-kept behavioral contracts I had my kids sign but never followed through on (you can read more in detail about this by clicking HERE). You will also hear what other TWO (what this Dolly Mama would deem) SUPER important life values somehow made the leap across that seemingly giant chasm between my heart (and Allen’s too) and his!

If you are just at the beginning of this crazy journey of parenthood, somewhere in the messy part, launching your kids into adulthood, or “been there, done that” and just want to be reminded that it was all worth it, this podcast is for you! We are parents from the moment they are born until they moment we take our last breath. I’ll never get away from being their mom, nor would I want to.

ENJOY (It’s only about 20 minutes!) BY CLICKING HERE!!

AND SHARE WITH ALL YOUR PEOPLE!

Family, motherhood

My House Empty but My Heart Full (to my fellow ordinary moms)

Posted on October 28, 2018January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

“Yes, please get a new cup every time you get a drink of water.” (No Mom Ever)

I lie alone in my bed on a very normal Wednesday night at 11 pm here in our sleepy little town. My husband, the heart of my heart, is at his apartment 350 miles away, where he works three days a week. Our oldest is hopefully sleeping soundly snug next to her husband with her baby boy a few short steps away in his crib (praying he is not sleeping like a baby, but more like a teenager) over two hours away. Our blond hair, blue-eyed first-born son, is probably nodding off in his apartment after a really long day working. My away-at-college senior might just be tackling a paper he has procrastinated writing. My baby, 19 year old curly-headed musician, is the farthest away, probably jamming away with friends on guitars, keyboards and microphones. My house is empty and my heart is scattered all over the East Coast.

Only eight short years ago, life was completely different. On those weekday nights, after showers were taken, toilets were flushed, teeth were brushed, homework was done, video-game playing came to a close, hugs were given, “I love yous” were said, all five of these people who my soul loves lay their heads on pillows within 20 feet of my own. My house was full and my heart was in one place at one kitchen table under one roof.

Yet tonight, as I lie in my very empty house, and although my heart is scattered, it is not empty. My heart is FULL. Full because on the very ordinary day, I have been loved by all the incredible people I shared the better part of my life with in one place at one kitchen table under one roof.

“Thanks, Mom, for all you did for us today.” (phone call from oldest as she was finishing up dinner with her new family after I had spent time caring for her baby and doing their laundry)

“See you this weekend, Mom.” (reminder from third-born about Friday night)

“Shalom to you too, beautiful wife.” (text from hubby as he heads to dreamland after our discussion about what peace really means)

“Love you too, Mom.” (text from son in response to our discussion about us getting him a puppy for his birthday)

Just as I cuddle up under my covers and am about to turn off the light, I receive one last “ding” on my laptop. It is the last of the bunch, our “Bug,” as she is known in these parts. And it is for no reason at all.

Lest you get some crazy notion from all this loveliness that this is how it’s always been or always is even now, let me set the record straight. Under this one roof at one kitchen table in one place, we had our moments. Fights over the huge and minuscule (there was even one earlier this week and it was a doozy). Broken rules and boundaries. Critical spirits and hurt feelings. Addictions and mental illness. Slammed doors and silent treatments. Sickness and sadness. Harsh words and ignorance. All the things that make up normal FULL family life.

But as today reminds me, this is NOT all there was or is now. Under this one roof at one kitchen table in one place, there were also “I’m sorrys” and “I forgive yous.” Respect and authenticity. Forgiveness and encouragement. Freedom and healing. Open hearts and honest conversations. Health and joy. Kind words and understanding. All the things that make up normal FULL family life.

So, Fellow Ordinary Moms and Wives who are…

STILL UNDER ONE ROOF:

I see you. I was you. It’s hard. Look up, Sweet Mama. Keep up the good work. Hang in there. You are amazing. The days are long, but the years are short. You’ve got this. Your family is normal. These people you love, but are ready to kill at any given moment, are worth every ounce of love you can muster and are pouring out and into them. They will make it. You will make it. You will never regret it. It may seem like there’s no end in sight, and your stuff feels huge (AND IT IS), but it will (AND THEY WILL) be okay and even possibly wonderful. Never forget this one truth: LOVE IS ALWAYS THE RIGHT DECISION!

ALONE IN YOUR BED:

I see you. I am you. It’s hard. Look up, Sweet Mama. Our hearts are scattered, yet they reach more places. Our love that we gave and are continuing to pour out is multiplied beyond measure. Hang in there. It will feel sad some days. It does for me too. I miss those times under one roof at one table in one place. But it will (AND WE WILL) be okay and even possibly wonderful. Even though the end is in plain view (and possibly in the rear view), we must keep loving and giving ourselves to our people. Even though our houses are empty, our hearts can be full. Never forget this one truth: LOVE IS ALWAYS THE RIGHT DECISION!

(One heart-wrenching note: for those of you who have lost children, I can’t even imagine. Your heart has been shattered beyond belief. It’s hard for me to speak to you because I don’t understand. I really don’t. But I do know that the love you showed them while they were here is not wasted. It’s continuing to multiply over and over again because love is like that. You loved them with your whole heart. In turn, they loved others with theirs. That’s what this world needs and you have given it freely and sacrificially. Thank you for taking that risk we all are taking as we love our children with our fierce mom love. I’m so sorry, Sweet Mama. My heart is with you and all us moms collectively salute you and hug you with our hearts.)

When our daughter became pregnant with our precious grandson, I was giddy. Not because she was going to produce a grandchild to me, even though that’s a lot of fun, but because she was going to join the massive, never-ending “Mom’s Club” that I am a part of. There’s nothing like it. We understand parts of each other that no one else does. We take a gigantic risk loving this human being, but we can’t help ourselves. We give each other that look (maybe of desperation or joy) across the room and the other mom sees our hearts behind our eyes. There’s nothing like it. We turn to each other in times of great heartache and are comforted. When we can’t speak with our mouths because the joy or the pain is too deep, we receive unspoken affirmation through hugs from each other. There’s nothing like it.

So Sweet Mama, thank you for loving. Thank you for sharing your heart with another. Thank you for making your little world a much more beautiful and safe place. You’ve got this! And together, we’ve got this in spades!

Faith, Guest

The Pots in My Head

Posted on October 21, 2018January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

I am so excited about my guest this week, Sandi Piazza! You are in for a treat! Sandi is married to Gerry, and is currently on her third career as a stay-at-home homeschooling mom to Emilio (10) and Ana (8). She is passionate, strong, wise and gentle. Her heart comes alive when fighting for equality and social justice, diving into literature of all kinds, and providing the much-needed love and care for her foster dogs. Welcome, Sandi!

A few years ago, I heard someone preach that men’s brains are like waffles (compartmentalized) and women’s brains are more like spaghetti (highly intertwined). For many in the audience, this really resonated. Not for me. I have pots in my head.

As a perfectionist. I always have a lot going on AND never really learned how to outline and organize big projects, I tend to procrastinate until I must focus fully on the task at hand and get it done. To juggle several divergent tasks, I developed a system where I envision my brain as a cooktop covered with pots during a large holiday meal. Those who know me well may have heard me say, “OK. I need to get a new pot going in my head.” (In fact, that proclamation to my curious friend Esther is the origin of this post!)

When any project comes up, I add a pot on my brain’s stovetop. I carefully consider the core (main ingredient) of that task? What else needs to be added (some side elements) in order to accomplish this? How long do I have to complete (cook) this undertaking? Each item on my “to do” list gets a dedicated pot–something akin to the discrete little compartments in waffles, but oftentimes things are related and work together and it’s not quite the jumbled mess of spaghetti. Every so often, I sit down and think, “OK, POT CHECK! Let’s give things a stir.”

This process was crucial to my success as an undergraduate student. I was pursuing a degree in English Literature, which meant multiple books and essays assigned at any given moment. I was an officer in a club. I had an almost-full-time job. I was active in a church community (and most of us know what that means for good and bad). I was fortunate enough to have scholarships covering a huge chunk of my tuition, but room and board simply weren’t in the budget for the Rodriguez family. This meant LOTS of time spent in transit on the subway, commuting from the northernmost tip of Manhattan all the way down to Greenwich Village, in the days before internet, laptops, and smartphones. What was a student to do? CHECK MY POTS!

Typical POT CHECK, sitting on the subway riding home from school:

POT ONE: Paper due later this week on William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury.

“I loved the book, even though it took me a while to understand the first chapter, with its stream-of-consciousness descriptions and odd details like Cassie’s white underpants as she climbs a tree. WTH is that about? Interesting that the main character of the book never actually gets to speak for herself…her brothers and the family servant do all the talking. Can I emphasize this in my paper somehow? Hmm… OK, I’ll put it aside to revisit later, but it’s due soon so best not to wait too long.”

POT TWO: Paper two comparing Coriolanus and Titus Andronicus.

“Ugh. May as well be comparing liver and okra. Blaaah. That one isn’t due for a few weeks. Back burner for sure.”

POT THREE: Leading Bible study next week.

“What’s the verse again? ‘For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh, for the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh, but divinely powerful for the destruction of fortresses…’ OK, how can I make this super-familiar verse seem fresh? There’s the whole Iran Contra-gate thing in the news…weapons of warfare… Too much of a stretch? Should I just read it and leave it hanging there, hoping everyone can apply it to their own life? Hmm… I have some time on this. Let it simmer on low.”

POT FOUR: Choir Christmas service.

“It’s coming up soon. I have the lyrics and harmonies of the songs memorized. I have the white shirt I need and I have that black skirt I can wear. I haven’t worn it in a while. I hope it fits…I might need to add some girdle-y (is that even a word? girdle-like?) underwear to make it fit better… Stir that pot when I get home. Wait…”

WEIRD TRANSITION BACK TO POT ONE:

“Underwear, again. That’s in a couple of my pots. Back to the paper. There was that thing in where Benji notices Cassie’s underwear. Weird for a brother to notice that about his sister. Wait, now that I think of it, didn’t that happen with more than one narrator? Where’s that book?”

By the time I got home from school, I had figured out that there were three different characters in The Sound and the Fury who noticed the central character’s underpants, and that the underwear reflected what they thought of her in that. The paper practically wrote itself, which was a blessing in the pre-word-processor 1980s!

Some 30 years later, my perfectionism has waned, but I still organize my thoughts and projects in this way. The pots bubbling away in my mind these days tend to be more abstract than project-based, and currently include things like:

what walking with Jesus looks like after deconstructing some toxic doctrines from my fundamentalist upbringing
having a successful marriage, almost 14 years in, without an example in my life to emulate
parenting a child—possibly two—with autism
navigating family relationships successfully and in a healthy way when members struggle with mental illness, addiction, & codependency
homeschooling
building and maintaining a tribe
a room decorating project
volunteer responsibilities
rescue dogs, old dogs, and how to keep them both healthy/calm

You get the idea. Lysa TerKeurst says, “The mind feasts on what it focuses on. What consumes my thinking will be the making or the breaking of my identity.” That rings true. This is the stuff of my life…the things that nourish me, sustain me, and keep me going.

Doing an occasional pot check helps me to realize what I know a lot about and what I need to research further. And, much as it did when I was in college, it often allows me to draw parallels and to see how something in one pot relates to another, helping me make sense out of a vexing problem and integrate the various parts of my life.

I also cook a lot more now than I did when I was younger, and something invaluable I’ve come to know is that there is one ingredient that improves every dish I cook. GARLIC! Just kidding. It’s SALT!

Salt is amazing. It has so many uses! It preserves. It melts ice. It kills weeds, and, relevant to the topic at hand, it seasons food and enhances the flavor of almost everything.

Author and activist Mariama Bâ has said that “The flavor of life is love. The salt of life is also love.” That rings so true! Much as every dish I cook improves with a bit of salt, every pot in my head is better when I add some love.

Sound like a stretch? See for yourself!

Parenting? Add love.

Marriage? Add love.

Faith? Family? Tribe? Yes, yes, yes…more love.

Re-examining my faith? Definitely needs more love.

And so on…

However, unlike salt, I have yet to see a “pot” where too much love ruined it.

Well, if you’ll excuse me, the kids are occupied for the moment, leaving me a few moments to sit and reflect. Perfect time for a pot check. No thanks on the waffles and spaghetti, but…can you please pass the salt?

A final word from the Dolly Mama. It’s been a pleasure having Sandi come and share with us. She’s exceptional. If you’d like to see some of my favorite blog posts, take a look at these (and please follow me if you like what you read and don’t want to miss another post):

Not the Boss of Me

The Goetz Family Law

“I Just Had to Pee” and other Half-Truths (Fighting the Monster of Anxiety…A Day in the Life…Glimmer of Hope)

To Pick Up or Put Down (Every Parent’s Never-Ending Battle)

Unraveling and Re-raveling (Getting Rid of the Formula)

Shattered Shalom (restoring it in my home and in our world)

Redeeming Hypnopompia

Family, Grandparenthood, motherhood

To Pick Up or Put Down (Every Parent’s Never-Ending Battle)

Posted on March 11, 2018January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

“Have a heart soft enough to give love and mercy, but wise enough to know boundaries.” (Kayil Crow)

It has started: Our daughter’s battle whether or not to put her four-month old down (cry it out) or pick him up when he is fussy. Believe me, both have been tried. (Don’t let the pics of the happy baby fool you.) The truth is holding him tends to calm him. He sleeps better. He stops crying. He is basically happier.

It continues: Our daily battle about how much to help our adult children (pick them up when they are “fussy”) or let them figure things out on their own (many times painful and uncomfortable). Believe me, both have been tried. For decades. The truth is helping them tends to calm them. They sleep better. They stop “fussing.” They are basically happier.

It never stops: My aging parent’s battle about how much to help their youngest son with the care of his children while my mom goes through radiation treatment during the next several weeks. This is a big one: he lost his wife about a year ago and the situation is complicated. They are 84. He is 56. It never ends. The truth is helping him calms the situation. Everyone sleeps better. The “fussing” is abated. He is basically happier.

If you are a parent, you can completely relate, no matter how old your child is. It can be teaching a baby to sleep by themselves, driving a forgotten homework assignment to school for your elementary daughter, purchasing a car for your new driver, allowing an adult child to live at home rent-free for a season, watching grandchildren for your middle-aged son, the list goes on and on. I’m sure you can add your own. The questions are basic: how much do I “pick up,” help, console, “save the day,” when my child has a need or even a want? How much do I let them “ride out the storm,” figure it out on their own, “put them down” so to speak? Where is that line drawn? When is that line drawn? How is that line drawn? What choice should we make so that we are promoting emotional health and good boundaries, yet making sure the other feels safe and completely loved?

I am becoming keenly aware of how daily of a battle this is, no matter how old the parent or child is. I am also highly in tune right now with how many opinions everyone has about this and how strong those opinions are. I also realize how often I go to others to ask this very basic question: what should I do in “X” situation with “such-and-such” child? Do I pick them up or put them down?

For many years, I went back and forth, always unsure if what I was doing in any given situation was right. I felt trapped. If I “picked them up,” I heard the voices that shouted, “You are doing too much. Your boundaries are too lax. They need to learn for themselves. This is unhealthy. This is bad.” If I didn’t help, I heard opposing voices, “You aren’t doing enough. Your boundaries are too rigid. They need to feel loved and not alone. This is unhealthy. This is bad.” Ugh. And if the truth is known, I still struggle with this and it is real and it is still almost every day.

Today, I share with you my “half-thoughts” on the subject. A “half-thought” is something I am still in process about and haven’t completely “landed” anywhere quite yet, but still want to share. I hope these bring you some freedom for the “back-and-forth,” trapped feeling you may find yourself in today:

Even though the questions are easy, the situations are complicated. No two are the same and rarely is there a quick answer or fix. Rest in that.
This dilemma is part of being a parent, period. There’s no getting out of it.
Other parents are in the same boat. We all need each other, not to judge and give solutions, but to listen and give grace.
Don’t ask yourself if the decision is right or wrong, black or white, good or bad. Rarely are decisions that we make all one way or the other. That’s an exhausting treadmill and only promotes fear, guilt and shame. Either decision will have both difficult and wonderful attached to it. Usually it’s some combination of beautiful and messy.
Ask yourself these questions instead: What do I really need? Why do I want to help? What do they really need? Take the long-view and dig a little deeper.
Change your mind if you need to. Take the time to re-evaluate and get counsel from others. There is great freedom here.
Show yourself boatloads of grace no matter what you decide. Remind yourself that God loves both of you and He can come in and provide all that’s lacking no matter what decision is made in the moment.
I leave you with my biggest one for this past six months because many days I just don’t know what to do. This verse comes up every single day on my reminders. I pray it every morning:

If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives GENEROUSLY and FREELY to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. (James 1:5)

I don’t think it ever ends. I am growing and being stretched and learning to love in a healthy, hope-filled, very complicated kind of way. I kind of like it.

Celebration, Childhood, Faith, Third Culture Kid

The “You Better Watch Out”…God

Posted on December 17, 2017January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

“Aslan,” said Lucy, “you’re bigger.”
“That is because you are older, little one,” answered he.
“Not because you are?”
“I am not. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger.”
(Prince Caspian, Chapter 10)

I lay on my bunk bed at boarding school in Ethiopia. My bunkmate stirs below me. I wind my musical Raggedy Ann doll over and over, hoping to get some sleep. Sleep does not come. I rehash the day. Thoughts swirl: “I did a bunch of wrong things. Maybe that’s why I can’t sleep. I should confess my sins. Hey God, I’m sorry for all the bad things I did today. Please forgive me.” Still no rest for my eyes and tired body. I go into a bit of a panic. “Maybe I didn’t mean it for real when I prayed the magic prayer asking God into my heart. If I did mean it, I would not be so naughty.” I whisper the same thing for the umpteenth time, “Please come into my heart. I really mean it this time. I will be better tomorrow.” Still nothing. I lay there wide-awake. My mind happily drifts to earlier in the evening, when my dorm mother read us another chapter in the story of Narnia and especially Aslan, a loving lion who makes everything good and right in a strange land, and seems to adore children and even play with them. “I love Aslan. I wish God was like Aslan. Why can’t He be?” As I finally drift off to sleep, resting in the comfort of the lion who loves children, I have a flicker of hope: “Maybe He is.”

For decades, Santa has flooded the Christmas season. A jolly man with a jolly heart. A man who rewards good behavior with toys and naughty behavior with “a lump of coal.” We all know of him. Believe it or not, I had a friend who “prayed to Santa” all year and confessed her sins, much like I did with God as a young girl. After all, how different are they? “He (Santa) sees you when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake. He knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake. YOU BETTER WATCH OUT…Santa Claus is coming to town.” It is eerily similar to the Sunday School song from my childhood: “Be careful little eyes what you see, for the Father up above is looking down below, so be careful little eyes what you see.” Both of them are watching. You better watch out.

More recently, Santa’s Elf (on the Shelf) has taken off as a new family tradition. If you’re not familiar, this Elf (which comes in different sizes and even sexes in the form of a cheaply made elf doll that will set you back 30 bucks), is dispatched from the North Pole at the start of Advent. He or she enters homes to keep a watchful eye on the children, ensuring good behavior during the rough parenting patch when kids are over-sugared and over-excited for Christmas. His or her “job” is to make sure they belong on Santa’s “nice” list. You better watch out!

I loved celebrating Santa with my children (we just dug out Rachel’s letter from the North Pole) and might currently have an Elf on the Shelf if I still had littles. But as you read above, and this is the point: I believed in a “you better watch out” God very early and sadly, it continued well into adulthood. God was no different than Santa or Elf on the Shelf. He was up there watching my every good and bad behavior, ready to reward or “smite” me for each one, his main goal to get me to behave. It’s not hard to figure out what my relationship with Him was like because of this. I was filled with and acted out of fear and guilt. I hid from Him, or at least (fruitlessly) tried to…who wouldn’t? I struggled to feel close, spending much energy and time on my external, visible behavior, hoping that it would be enough, trying to avoid that proverbial “lump of coal,” God’s disapproval of me. My internal craving for love and belonging was completely sacrificed on the external “behavior management” altar.

Enter the stories of Narnia and a reunion with Aslan as the mom of four kids. I found three-hour radio theater dramatic renditions absolutely a must-buy if you have kids) of these stories that I loved as a child. I could kill two birds with one stone: share this amazing lion with my own children and at the same time, keep them quiet on long car rides (keeping it real people). As I came to reconnect with Aslan, I found even more so that he is wise, playful, generous, kind, mysterious, terrifying, magnificent, beautiful and unconditionally loving all at once. He is the one who I longed for my whole life. He is too good not to be true.

I had finally found the answer to that hopeful thought I had as a child. God is not like Santa. God is not like the Elf on the Shelf. God is not ultimately concerned with “behavior management.” God is like Aslan. God is wise. God is playful. God is generous. God is kind. God is mysterious. God is terrifying. God is magnificent. God is beautiful. God unconditionally loves and He unconditionally loves me. Period. His agenda is a loving, intimate, close relationship with me. He loves me because of who He is, not how I behave. He actually can’t help Himself. True, lasting change will come, but it will be born FROM of a place of love and acceptance, the inside out, not FOR love and acceptance, the outside in.

What relief! What freedom! Even as I write this, “you better watch out” is quieted again and my heart settles down with a big inner sigh. A long deep breath of safety and belonging. Yes. Yes. Yes. This is what I long for. This is a line I can get in, a lap I can climb up onto and take pictures of every day for a lifetime! My flicker of hope so long ago, “Maybe He is,” is a burning light of hope that shouts, “YES. YES HE IS.”

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P.S. I have told people that, as a child, I loved Aslan more than I loved Jesus (see Ethiopia Tikdem post). I found out that a concerned mother once wrote C. S. Lewis on behalf of her son, Laurence, who, having read The Chronicles of Narnia, became concerned that he loved Aslan more than Jesus. In his response, Lewis offered this relief:

“Laurence can’t really love Aslan more than Jesus, even if he feels that’s what he is doing. For the things he loves Aslan for doing or saying are simply the things Jesus really did and said. So that when Laurence thinks he is loving Aslan, he is really loving Jesus: and perhaps loving Him more than he ever did before.”