To the Powers that Be:

As we sat around the Christmas tree that evening, grandma asked if we would each share something we were grateful for in 2012 and something we were looking forward to in 2013.

When it came time for my son to share his gratitude for the past and hope for the future, I couldn’t believe my ears. This 10-year-old son of mine? What was he grateful for? What hope did he have for the new year?

He shared with all sincerity, all seriousness…he was glad he was alive in 2012, and hopes he stays alive in 2013.

This certainly wasn’t the response grandma planned when she dreamed up this hope-filled family activity around the tree.

Mama to this 10-year-old boy, I calmly reassured him “You don’t need to worry about that,” as if he shouldn’t be worried about such a thing. But he responded again with all seriousness, “Well, it could happen.” There was something real in his voice, something that told me he wasn’t kidding, that he knows full well the realities of this world.

I had nothing else to say, no other words seemed fitting in that moment. What is a mama to say when her 10-year-old says around the Christmas tree that he’s glad to be alive and that he hopes he’s going to be alive next year? For there is always a possibility any one of us might pass to a better place this year.

It had been just 9 days since the Sandy Hook incident in Connecticut. He had heard, but we hadn’t dwelled. The pictures and stories were pouring in, and I’m sure there was discussion among children at school. We had even gotten a call from the school principal indicating our daughter had been sent down because she was feeling anxious about being safe in school. But him? This boy who rarely shares detail and emotes very little from the depths of his soul? Prior to the incident around the tree, he gave us no indication he was scared for his life.

This has haunted my soul for more than a month. To think my 10-year-old lives in a world where he has to fear for his life! To think he is so worried, so concerned for the existence of his life that it’s the first thing that comes to his mind in an innocent moment of gratitude and hope around the Christmas tree! To think a 7-year-old has to be sent to the principal’s office because she’s anxious about being at school because a gunman might enter at any moment and start shooting it up! To think this same girl has expressed fear about sitting in a movie theater because she’s scared somebody might sneak in “like they did at Batman” and start shooting everybody?!

May I ask, what has gone wrong with our society?

May I ask, do we really want 7-year-olds and 10-year-olds to be scared for their lives? In the United States of America?!

May I ask, where are our priorities?

May I ask, do we really realize the severity, the depth of this problem?

May I ask, who do we blame?

May I ask, what do we blame?

May I ask, where does all of this evil originate anyway?

May I ask, how am I supposed to combat my son’s fear of life and death when he’s still trying to solve math problems and spell and write a story that makes sense?

May I ask, why in the world should my children have to worry about the possibility of being shot to death when they go to school or a movie?

May I suggest that this is a battle between good and evil?

May I suggest we must take a much harder stance than we ever have to fight this battle in our homes, in our neighborhoods, in our schools, in our cities and states and in our nation? For that matter, around the globe?

May I suggest that we need to stop politicizing issues of life and death and get down to business of determining a better course of action? A more noble course of action?

May I suggest that we need to gather around moms and dads as they raise little ones?

May I suggest that we need to get out of our little bubbles of isolation and be in community so we’re raising a generation that values life?

May I suggest that our hearts are sick?

May I suggest we develop more empathy, more heart towards one another?

May I suggest that we start addressing and treating mental illness for what it is rather than shunning or ignoring or writing them off as so called “cray cray?” for someone else to handle?

May I suggest that seriously evil individuals will continue to be ruthless in achieving their objectives?

May I suggest that this nation has experienced so much fortune that some of us have become blind to reality?

May I suggest that the solutions do not lie solely in gun control legislation and mental health reform, but in getting on our knees in prayer for this nation, for our government, for our states and cities and neighborhoods, for families and children?

People, we are in a battle.

And as a mama, the only answer that seems clear is that I need to be bold and courageous about my work as a mama. I need to love. I need to support. I need to encourage. I need to pray and pray and pray for my children. I need to give them a firm foundation. I need to use words that will build up instead of tear down. I need to surround my children with people that will make them feel worthy. I need to do the hard work it takes to raise a citizen of character, of integrity, of goodness. A citizen that will not lose hope, a citizen that will not grow weary. A citizen that respects life and doesn’t take it for granted. A citizen that knows we are in battle, and it’s time to stand up and fight.

Fear not little boy, for I will do my best to provide these things for you. Fear not little boy, for if you let me show you and if you open your heart, you will see there is a God who is much greater than all our fears. A God who heals, a God who redeems, a God who restores, a God better and bigger than all this. For you can put your fear in His hands, and let it rest there, son.

And as a speech-language pathologist, I have to say that perhaps Gabby Giffords, with a most emphatic voice, said it best this morning…

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people. Pray also for me, that whenever I speak, words may be given me so that I will fearlessly make known the mysteryof the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains. Pray that I may declare it fearlessly, as I should.  Ephesians 6:10-20

Amy

You are a special mama.

I hear you.

I see you.

I understand you.

I am with you.

That look, I recognize it. I see it. The way you look at your child. Your quiet, wondering eyes tell all. The way pain has settled in. What does this child’s future hold? Will everything be ok?

That voice, I hear it. Your anxiety, your worry, your being on the edge every moment. Your wondering who has the answers. Your wondering who can help me with this child? Your need to know you’re not alone. You’re not alone, that’s what you need to hear.

That feeling, I get it. That others simply don’t understand. They know not what you have been through. They know not what your child needs. They know not how to respond. Their understanding of what your child says and does is limited. Not by their own fault, but by virtue of not being you, not being in your shoes. You take not a single thing for granted when it comes to your child. Embrace that gift. Use it to hear, to see others better, more deeply. Live more fully.

That gut horror of yours, stop overanalyzing it. Did you do something wrong? Too much of this, not enough of that? Could you have done something earlier, something more, something better? Could you have prevented this from happening? Would a different parent have been better for this child? Accept this gift from me. You have done nothing. Your guilt is not warranted. Your gut leads you astray. You are the parent your child needs.

That joy of yours, that pride, I sense it. It comes overflowing in that moment. It takes your breath away. You never thought your child could do that, could be so great, could meet, exceed all your expectations. Believe it. Your child can do anything. Anything is possible. That triumph is yours. That triumph belongs to you and your child.

Because you are great.

You are courageous.

You are strong.

You are an amazing mama.

You can do it.

You can do this.

This is hard, but you are doing it.

You are doing it.

You are a special mama.

And I see you.

May the gift be yours to embrace.

But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. Luke 2:19

Amy

Today, I wonder a little deeper. Who am I?

Months ago when I was about to launch the blog, a wiser man asked if I was an author. I thought the question was a little odd and answered quickly with no, explaining I’ve simply felt called to write for years and am finally taking the next step by starting the blog. His question stuck with me, and there have been days I’ve felt compelled to contact this man and ask what he meant. If he meant am I an author, published and all? Of course not, definitely not. Not even close. If he meant in my heart of hearts, am I an author? Do I draft sentences and paragraphs in my head all day long, am I an author? My dream, maybe my call to be an author? To move hearts with my writing? Then yes, I suppose the answer could be yes. Maybe my answer should have been yes. Am I an author because I put my thoughts to the screen? Am I am author because I daydream of being a published one some day?

Last night, my daughter was in tears even before I went to give her a good-bye hug. Today, the day I was to leave for the American Speech-Language-Hearing Association convention. I don’t leave often, and she’s an emotional girl, so she just couldn’t get over the fact I was leaving for 3 1/2 days. We hugged and hugged, and I reminded her I would only be gone a few days and there would be lots of people here to love her and have fun with while I was gone. But the tears still came. Daddy calmed her down and talked her to sleep after my final hug in bed, tears still streaming when I left the room. This morning, she peered in the room in the wee hours while I was still getting ready. Tears streamed again. More hugs. And later, more tears and more hugs. This tearing of my heart. The author in me writing the moments on my heart, in my mind. The mom in me feeling guilty for leaving a crying little one so sad. The business owner and speech-language pathologist in me rationalizing why I had to go. Yes, mom I certainly am. And today, I have extra confirmation I am a loved mom, that is deeply missed by at least one little daughter.

This morning in the airport, a young man sat down in the little work cubicle across from me. He struck up conversation about his life, how he helps his dad with the catering business, how he had a hard summer and they are taking a vacation to get away from it all. Dad showed up and first thing he said to me was “Are you a writer?” This struck me as odd. Why in the world would this man think I was a writer? Sitting with my laptop wasn’t anything unique in this sea of work stations with tabletops and outlets designed for electronic productivity. Finding his question still out of place, and for a moment wondering how to answer (Um, am I a writer? Yes or no? I have a blog, but I’m not a professional writer or author? So, I guess no?), I said no, I’m a speech-language pathologist. We engaged in some conversation about my practice and specialities I have been trying to focus on the past couple of years – apraxia and down syndrome. He commented I was calm, quite possibly one of the last words I’d use to describe myself! Maybe it was just that he and his son made me feel calm? He showed me pictures of their mobile catering unit; I was humbled knowing this stranger shared with me something so dear to his heart.

Later near my destination, far from the rest of the speech-language pathologists, at Jimmy John’s a few blocks from my hotel for the night, a woman looked up and smiled at me from several booths down. My first reaction…why are you smiling at me? Is there something I did to engage you that I forgot about? Do I know you somehow? Her name was Bertha, beautiful, vibrant, lovely with smooth dark skin. She approached, asking me if I was here for the convention. I asked why she was so far off the beaten path. She had hotel troubles and just found a new one while she was sitting here. She’s been coming to the convention every year since 1965, this might be her last year at the convention. She couldn’t be more friendly and welcoming, and I love this woman up until we depart ways. And I wonder again…who am I? To a complete stranger, my presence was positive enough from four booths down that she smiled and felt confident she could approach. I appreciate that, especially finding out later in conversation she was a seasoned woman of much grace.

And later yet at the hotel, a call from a mom. She’s looking for speech-language therapy for her two-year-old son and she’s heard I’m one of the “gurus” in apraxia in the area, and I’m floored. Yes, this. This I have been dreaming for my practice. That one day, I’ll be able to specialized solely on childhood apraxia of speech and down syndrome, the things I love most of all. Although I don’t consider myself a “guru” of ANY sort, this is certainly confirmation I’m on the right path to attaining those dreams of specialization. Insurance will prohibit us from working together, but it was wonderful conversation and I have no doubts it would have been a joy and honor to serve this mom and her son.

So who am I? Well, for now my “professional” roles are three. Mom, blogger (author? writer?), and speech-language pathologist. For now, I marry all three. That special mom role, of course, I will never surrender. I play that role on the days I’m working and on the days I’m not. But what about the other two? For now, I leave them placed in God’s hands. He has the path planned, the path cleared in advance of my arrival, the path prepared just for me. He created me, you, uniquely, specially, to do something He called only me to do. The not knowing, the being unsure is hard some days, but I will wait.

So tonight, I’ll read all the blog posts and tweets from the Compassion International Compassion Bloggers trip to Peru, and I’ll feel without a doubt my heart is there, I dream of that someday. And tomorrow, when I walk into that convention center full of speech-language pathologists, I’ll realize as I do every year that I fit just right into this profession. And Saturday night, I’ll be welcomed with love by my husband and my three little children, and I will feel with all confidence that this is perfect home too.

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

Amy

It is my pleasure to introduce you to my daughter Elsa and her friend Hannah, two girls that represent the next generation of moms! I have had this post on my heart for months, so I am happy to be able to finally share it with you today.

Months ago, Elsa had her friend Hannah over to play. I was changing my daughter’s diaper on the floor, and Hannah and Elsa were watching me. Out of the blue, Elsa said to Hannah “Are you going to be a good mom when you get bigger?” Taken aback by this question, I responded immediately with an adamant “You girls are going to be AWESOME moms!”

I don’t remember what else I said that day, but it doesn’t even matter. The fact is that I was shocked that my six-year-old was asking her friend IF she was going to be a “good mom” someday! I couldn’t help but wonder how it was she got to this place. How is it that in our American culture, a six-year-old has been exposed to so many messages about mothering, subtly and not so subtly, that she is already questioning a friend about her future mothering abilities? And what does that say about my own daughter’s confidence in her future mothering abilities? If she’s asking her friend “Are you going to be a good mom when you get bigger?” then she is likely asking that of herself.

Whether we innately want to be “good moms,” or this message is passed through our culture, or both, I have come to despise the phrase “good mom.” And the fact that my daughter already has a sense or fear about this “good mom” concept makes me want to stand up for all the girls of the next generation and say with all clarity and conviction – let’s eliminate the notion of “good mom” once and for all!

I was a “good girl.” I can’t say exactly what constitutes a “good girl,” but I know I was one. I didn’t do much wrong and I didn’t cause much trouble, and that’s just who I was.

So when I became a mother, I naturally wanted to be a “good mom.” The only problem was that I was never exactly sure what a “good mom” was, nor am I 10 years after becoming a mother. We all have a sense of a “good mom” when we see one, and there seems to be a lot of pressure to be a “good mom.” Even before I became a mom, I had people tell me I was going to be a “good mom,” but funny thing is once you become a mom and have some real experience behind you, nobody goes around telling you if you’re actually a “good mom” or not, so you’re never quite sure how you’re doing. Yes, your instinct tells you when you’ve done something right, and you’ll certainly find out when you’ve done something wrong as a mom, but there is no concrete definition of “good mom” we can use to verify YES, I’m doing this right, or NO, I’m doing that wrong.

“Good mom.” This nebulous”good mom.”

Does a “good mom” give birth naturally, medication free? Is she a “good mom” if she has an epidural? (3,680,000 results on Google search)? What if she has a c-section? (59,100,000 results on Google search)

Does a “good mom” breast feed until the recommended one-year of age? Is she still a “good mom” if she nurses until three months and then formula feeds (6,190,000 results on Google search)? What if she only formula feeds?

Does a “good mom” make her baby’s food from scratch, boiling organic food and then milling it by hand? Is she still a “good mom” if she just buys the old fashioned jars of Gerber baby food? (173,000,000 results on Google search)

Does a “good mom” stay home full-time to care for her children? Is she still a “good mom” if she chooses to work part-time or full-time, or if she has to work full-time or nights or weekends to make ends meet (132,000,000 results on Google search)?

Does a “good mom” send her kids to public school or private school, or does she homeschool? (2,290,000 results on Google search)?

Does a “good mom” hover over her children, supervising them every moment, making sure they are behaving properly, not getting in harm’s way? Is she still a “good mom” if she sends them outside to play and only checks on them once in a while? Or does a “good mom” play with her children and engage them during all waking hours so they can achieve optimal development? (24,600,000 results on Google search)?

Does a “good mom” prepare a homemade meal every night and include all the food groups? Is she still a “good mom” if she gets a basic meal on the table most nights and brings her kids out for fast food here and there? (2,140,000 results on Google search)?

Or how about some even more nebulous ones…

Is she a “good mom” if she gets called by her child’s principal because her child misbehaved in school? Is she still a “good mom” if she gets called two or three times?

Is she a “good mom” if she brought her child to school one day too soon after the lice treatments, and even after all the work she did, it’s discovered that the lice weren’t gone yet and have now spread to other children in the classroom? (I’m sure it’s happened thousands of times.)

Is she a “good mom” if her teen hates church when faith is the most important thing in the world to her?

Can she feel confident she is a “good mom” when her child has autism, a learning disability, attention deficit disorder, bipolar disorder, attachment disorder, some vague undetermined “not otherwise specified” or “developmental delay” or any number of diagnoses where the cause is unknown, not fully understood, and/or partially genetic, and she has therapists and doctors and psychologists reminding her of all the different ways she needs to parent her child? (Let me be clear on this one, the answer is YES.)

Listen folks. I could go on and on. This makes my head swim and seeing those Google stats makes me realize why moms have a hard time feeling confident.

The fact remains true. The definition of a “good mom” is nebulous and therefore unattainable.

Perhaps we should reframe our notion of “good mom” into something like “doing her best as a mom” or “loves her children with wild abandon even though she’s not a perfect mom.”

Give yourself some grace as a mom, extend another mom grace for her journey, and fully accept the grace God offers you every single day. I will never feel sufficient or proficient to carry out the task of mothering on my own, but I am not alone. For God says in 1 Corinthians 12:9 “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Although we are not perfect human beings, nor perfect moms, and maybe not always “good moms,” we can rest in peace knowing there is a God that offers grace. And there are millions of moms, dads, grandparents, and others to provide support when we need help along the way.

So on that note, let’s ditch that old-fashioned notion of “good mom” for all the moms of the next generation.

For Hannah.

 For Lucy.

For Ingrid.

For Raegan.

For Eva.

For Annika.

For Riese.

For Haylee.

For Briana.

For Lexi.

For Ava.

For Emma.

For Julia & Lucy.

For Hanna.

My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. 1 Corinthians 12:9

Amy

*A special thanks to all the moms that gave me permission to use their daughters’ pictures in this post.

It’s Friday, which means it’s time for another Meet Me At This Moment for Five Minute Friday post! I spend the last two hours of Thursday chatting it up with a group of authentic and inspiring Five Minute Friday bloggers on Twitter (#FiveMinuteFriday #fmfparty). One minute past midnight EST Friday, Lisa-Jo Baker gives us a single word prompt and we all write a blog post centered around that word. We write for five minutes, and five minutes only! In the words of Lisa, this is “unscripted. unedited. real.” You meet me at this moment in time…my thoughts and opinions, my joys and sorrows, my dilemmas and dreams. And I receive one of the greatest gifts ever…a regular outlet for processing and expressing my thoughts without constantly editing myself. This is my life, my perspective, unfiltered.

The word of the week is GRASP. 

Ready. Set. GO!

I admit, I’ve been having some body image issues lately. My baby is nine months, and I’ve been stuck five pounds above my pre-pregnancy weight for four months.

Last Sunday, getting ready for church, I was possibly at my worst. I stood in the closet, looking for what to wear. I put on a pear of my bigger pants. Even those didn’t fit. This is the problem I’ve had for months. Nothing fits except the leggings. Capri leggings in the summer, and now long leggings for the colder weather. None of the regular pants fit and it is making me crazy. Some say, “oh, just get some different pants,” or “don’t worry, you’ll fit into them soon enough.” But it has really been getting me down that NONE of the pants fit in my closet, and I don’t want to buy all new pants!

So this pair of pants, one of the bigger pair, was my best bet. I put them on and the fat rolled off the side just as I hated with every other pair. I wish I could just be ok with it and wear them that way. But I feel fat and uncomfortable with that fat rolling off the side.

Then I wonder if a shirt will help cover it up. That didn’t help at all. In fact, the shirt highlights the fat even more.

Maybe a double layer will help. The plain sweater, camoflauge it all? Nope. That didn’t do it either. The fat still shows through even with the double layer. I am feeling worse and worse as every layer goes on.

Then I strip it all off and put on the flowy dress with the flowy vest and leggings. And it all feels covered, and nobody can see all of the dilemma I faced in that closet, the tears, the agony, the fight within myself.

I look over at that dress I wore one year ago when I was pregnant. Oh so pretty. Bought that regular dress so I could “wear it after,” but it still doesn’t fit, and that makes me just want to be pregnant all my life so I don’t have to worry about feeling fat anymore.

And then I hear crying from the room next door to that closet. Little baby. I enter, and there is baby standing up in her crib, and I grasp at the beauty I birthed from this body. This body, what I call fat, birthed this being. And enters another being I birthed, my son. From within this fat, came him too. And they are beautiful. And they love. And they are so much more than my fat, my feelings of inadequacy in my own body. And it all makes more sense, and it all puts it in a new light. And I grasp for the truth God speaks to my heart…I feel fat, but I am blessed. And God says I am beautiful.

Stop.

Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight. 1 Peter 3:3-4

Amy