A Letter to My Ten Year Old Girl

Dear Daughter,

Wow. Ten whole beautiful years of loving you. Of being your Mama. Of watching you grow and learn and live and love. You and I, dear girl, are quite the pair. God knew I needed you, more than I ever could have fathomed. When I learned I was pregnant with you, I had a seven month old baby napping upstairs. I cried because I couldn’t believe it…I cried because I didn’t feel ready. But the moment I found out that little baby on the ultrasound screen was a baby girl, everything started making sense. I. needed. you.

Sure you make me want to pull my hair out at times—your stubborn willful self is an awful lot like mine. But even after you and I may have a disagreement, I always know we will be okay. You’ve been a Mama’s Girl since the day you were born, and still today, at ten years old, you are. You’ll go to bed earlier if it means “Mom can tuck you in.” If it means Mom can lie with you, read, pray, tickle your back and listen to a song while holding your hand. Right now, you still feel you “need” that. And I can’t help but wonder how long that will last? “She won’t always like me…” I’ve said to myself.

Moms and daughters, Reese, often struggle. Maybe it’s when daughters start really coming into their own self and begin to have strong differing opinions or thoughts than their moms? Maybe it’s when daughters decide that their moms know nothing and just ‘don’t understand?’ I don’t think there is a magic age and perhaps I will be entirely wrong, but I keep expecting us to struggle. I guess even if you don’t have months or years where you just don’t want to be ‘close’ to me, I do know that we WILL struggle. But guess what? When we do, I will still need you. And I hope you will still need me.

I spent most of my life racing. By racing I mean wishing for the next thing—I wished to grow UP from a young age, and in many ways, as a kid I did grow up pretty fast. I think being the youngest sibling to a brother with severe special needs can do that. I couldn’t wait to drive, to finish high school. I couldn’t wait for college to move to Kentucky and to begin pursuing my dreams. I wished and I wished and I wished. Then God surprised me with YOU, and then time started to actually fly by. I found myself wishing for more of it…for it to slow down…for it to STOP even, like it could have a pause button, and I could freeze exactly where my kids were at in certain different moments. But we can’t do that, can we, Sis? Time is fleeting and I have said that from the very beginning of YOUR time.

You are so excited to be double digits. And you should be! You’re officially a “pre-teen” now and while I may not feel ready, YOU definitely are and regardless, it’s happening. If there is one thing I wish I could help you do though…it would be to try to stay present in the time you are in. Where ARE you right NOW? Let me tell you, dear girl.

You are perfectly, positively, YOU. You are such your own little person, with your own thoughts and personality and character and charm. You’re not me, or your dad, or your brother, or your friends—you are YOU and I pray you continue to love that little girl inside of you. You love deeply and have the gifts of empathy and compassion. This is your last year at the school your dad works at, 5th grade—recently it dawned on you that after this year, he will be “alone” at school, and you cried for him. Your heart is as big as the ocean, sweet girl.

You’re artistic and creative. You are genuinely funny and make me laugh out loud. You LOVE to dance and make videos. You’re discovering the world of makeup and flared jeans and skincare routines. I’ve worked hard to not display negativity around you when it comes to getting ready, or when trying on clothes. I know you are already sometimes struggling with looks and appearance and ‘what will people think…’ and I have taught you to remember the little girl inside of you. How would you talk to her? Would you be mean or hurtful or unkind? Of course not!! So I hope and pray DAILY that you will love yourself WELL. That you will find gentleness inside for the girl on the outside. Life is hard, Baby girl. But I hope you don’t yet know or realize HOW hard it is.

I look back at pictures, memories from Facebook, and I can’t help but beam. You are very much the same girl that you were when you were 6 months old, 12 months old, 2 years old, 4 years old, and beyond. You’ve been our WOO GIRL from the very beginning—an ER doctor actually was the one to describe you as that! When the sedation couldn’t really make you drowsy when they were going to stitch up your forehead as a toddler, the doctor exclaimed, “Boy you have a real woo girl on your hands!” One of my friends said she can see you being a CEO one day. You are strong. Determined. A go getter. And I don’t ever see that changing.

You might be mad at me for writing this next part, but I just have to. This space has been very much like an ‘online journal’ to me for many, many years. Recently you told your dad that you had seen a boy you had a crush on, in passing at school. You were so giddy about it and cute. You said the boy had nodded at you and smiled. Dad said, “How did that make you feel?” You replied, “My insides got all warm and fuzzy!!!” Oh Reese Elisabeth…I’m not ready for the seasons with boys. For the worries and wonders that will automatically come with that. But it’s okay—we aren’t there quite yet. When we ARE there, I hope you know that I am always here. You can ask me ANYthing, ANY time. I hope as you grow older, that you don’t shy away from your parents advice, and that you won’t ever, ever feel you have to hide. In all of your emotions, wonders, worries, and hormones, I AM HERE.

Last but not least, Brené Brown wrote, “We have to be women we want our daughters to be.” Elisabeth, you have seen first hand that I am far from perfect. I pray and hope so much though, that through my career of loving and teaching kids of all ages, mentoring young girls, coaching young girls, working incredibly hard in horse ownership and a photography business—I hope and pray that you see a woman you are proud of. I hope you see a woman who loves Jesus and who has trusted HIM with her whole life. Who though has been diagnosed with a serious medical condition, STILL chooses to trust and depend on Him. I hope you see a woman who loves her family and would do anything for them. A wife who has been head over heels with her husband for over fifteen years now! And I don’t want you to be ME, sweet girl, because I fully believe one day, you are going far surpass whatever ounce of greatness I may have.

Happy 10th Birthday, dear Daughter. I love you more than this post or any number of words could relay. Thank you for being mine, thank you for being such a friend and for needing me and truly loving me all of these TEN years.

Love,

Mama

Seeing Them, and Being Seen BY Them

“Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.” -Simone Weil

“See me, Mom? Mommy did you see? Mom, did you SEE?” I remember our kids saying that, often. It was also “Watch, Mom, watch. Mommy, watch me!” While they still ask that sometimes, it is very rare! One is turning eleven in ONE month, the other is nine. Today’s church lesson was such a good reminder and conviction that though my kids are growing and not necessarily asking to be seen, giving them each attention is one of the best things that I can and will do for them.

The pastor today mentioned how allowing our kids to use the gifts God gave them, instead of forcing our own opinions and ‘should do’s’ on them, is going to be life changing. I wonder what paths they will walk. What colleges they will choose. What their first jobs will be. Who will they marry? Will they want kids, have kids, be able to have kids? What careers will they be in, what will their hobbies be, what will they remember?

I want my kids to be seen by me. At the end of their busiest, hardest, saddest, most exciting, most exhilarating, most trying days…to know that I am theirs.

I woke today with a hand typed letter from my son and a homemade card from my daughter. Both cards read so uniquely and vastly differently from each other’s, and both made me feel SO loved and so cherished. My son and my daughter are very different from one another—it is fascinating and humbling to watch their lives unfold before me.

I want to share parts from each’s here.

My son’s first:

“…don’t let me or anyone else say you are small. If anyone says that, they do not know what they are talking about. You’ve fallen off horses, gone to the hospital, you have MS, there are so many things that not even the tallest person in the world could handle, but YOU can. Sometimes I don’t recognize how much you do…I want you to never feel like I don’t see you what you do. I don’t think there will be enough paper in the world to write to you how grateful I truly am…..”

And my sweet girl’s:

…”thank you for helping me get cozy in my bed! It helped me a lot. I love that you hold my hand every night! Thank. you for teaching me to ride a horse! I love you so much! I can’t believe this is your 10th Mother’s Day! I use exclamation points so much…”

Pierson’s notes remind me of me when I was his age and how I would leave notes on MY mom’s pillow at bedtime. And Reese’s just makes me genuinely laugh because 1) I use exclamation points a lOT, and 2) I could only aspire to be as carefree as she is! I can see both of my kid’s love languages within their handwritten notes to me for today…my son is so much words of affirmation and my daughter’s is quality time. I see that. I know that. I confidently stand by that they’ve been this way since they were toddlers and first figuring out how to be individual people.

Lastly I wanted to share a blurb about husbands. Have you heard or seen the quote, “The most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother?” Henry Ward Beecher said that and I wanted to take a second to praise and love on my husband here. Today he wrote in a handwritten letter:

“In 2011 when we agreed it was time for a baby, we had no idea. In each season we have struggled and thrived as parents. Not because either of us is GREAT at it, but because we have each other. You are the calm to my loud…the gentle to my strength. The tenderness to my rough. The listening ear to my problem solving. My pause to my go…YOU complete this family. There were a million reasons we were and weren’t ready, but whether we were ready or not, YOU were the only reason I needed to say yes. You are ALL of my reasons.”

Life is short, it is tough, and it is fleeting. It was yesterday I was holding a newborn in my arms, and today I have two almost adolescents. Yesterday I was twenty years old and walking down the aisle, and today it has been almost fifteen years that I said I Do.

I see my people. Every ounce of me sees, hears, feels, and senses them. It is like I have a hundred hearts walking around outside of my chest, simply from being loved by THEM. May I always find the attention. May I always seek to love them more. May THEY always be seen by ME.

When You Doubt Yourself, Read This

One of those days I guess. Where my mind spins and I think 150 different and unique thoughts, most of them not really connected or intertwined with one another…if you’ve had a day like that, and you can maybe relate, read on, friend. You may want a cup of tea or coffee though, because it’s been a minute since I’ve written like this and it may be a while…

The summer is winding down. Well, not the heat, but the days until school is back in session. Trust me, its been over 100-degrees heat index wise for days and there’s not really an end in sight with that. But I can feel the end of our season drawing near.

I find myself wondering,

“Have I done enough?” “Were my kids happy?” “Will they remember this summer as a memorable one?” “Was I patient enough?” “Loving enough?” “Silly enough?” “Bold enough?”

Was I enough?

And then I shifted to wondering about former students. A giant chapter of my life is coming to a close, or has closed rather I suppose, as I accepted a brand new job in my teaching position for the coming school year. I worked with psychiatric and troubled youth for TEN years…it feels like so long, yet not long enough. Every year it never failed that I had repeat students. Sometimes I had them in their elementary years when I taught K-5th grades, and then they would come back to me as middle or high schoolers. Those were the really tough ones emotionally for me…

One in particular, a boy, I had in both fourth and fifth grade. I remember how much he made me LAUGH and how he helped around the classroom. He was so bright and really intelligent academically. Socially too—witty, charming, just an all around great kid. Flash forward to him entering the halls and bumping into me as a then 8th grader. I exclaimed his name with a giant smile and bear hugged him. [Bear hugs are frowned upon I guess in the teaching world, especially in a psychiatric facility, boundaries ya know?] But when you have my [then] job and a familiar face shows back up, one who made YOUR days brighter and happier, you kind of sigh a sigh of relief knowing (or hoping) that student will be similar even though he’s older now.

He remembered my name and smiled and I was bummed he wouldn’t be in my classroom because I didn’t teach middle school, I had been teaching high school the past three years. Then he showed up on my roster and BAM, there he was, at my doorway, in a class with high schoolers, and I shook my head in disbelief. Where I worked made changes, OFTEN. You HAD to go with the flow, practice extreme flexibility, and be able to just roll with the punches. So the whole last half of the school year I DID teach middle school, AND high school. And it was fine and I loved it and I maintained great classroom management and behavior…and yet I left wondering…

Did I do enough?

I watched that child go through a Richter scale of emotions. I watched him find hope and comfort, and I watched his talents SOAR. Then I watched as his world fell apart. The goofy, class clown boy I knew and loved did a 180 and began to doubt the whole world around him. Several nights I found myself crying, wishing and praying that I could do MORE. I wanted to be able to scoop him up [okay yes, he’s bigger than me now, that wouldn’t be possible AND it would be weird], but I wanted to be able to show him normalcy and kindness and take him to basketball games and show him how a loving family COULD be. How a family COULD protect and love and walk WITH him through the hardships. He was able to leave, I said my goodbyes, told him about my new job, and I prayed to God I would maybe see him on the outside one day.

Did I do enough?

That’s one of the reasons I decided to take a leap and part ways with that job placement. It was so hard to be able to foster impacting relationships with kids. Once they left the program, that was it. And I get it—that’s the job and I knew that. My heart has been longing for more, to be able to build relationships not strictly within the classroom, but out as well. With students’ families and their communities, to be able to walk with them longer than a few days or weeks, or in that students’s case, months…

See? There’s my brain tonight. I typically feel like I want to save the world: kids’ lives, everywhere, MY kids’ lives, and often that feels like a very big task. On the flip side, I know the answer to these questions. I hope you don’t read this thinking that I honestly doubt myself THAT much, or that I have felt inferior. I know my own children are happy. In between their bickering there are so many moments and memories FULL of love and laughter. And I know that in the classrooms that I taught in, I was often the reason students also laughed and felt loved. I very rarely forgot students names with their faces. Even when it had been years between seeing them, I remembered. Most of their lives are very hard, very broken, and for some I fear what the years ahead will do to them…but I pray I left an impact on them deep down.

For now? I have 16 days left of summer break. Sixteen days left to invest wholeheartedly every day, ALL day, with our children. I’ll have a fourth and fifth grader come this school year and that BAFFLES me. After this summer, I’ll be working in a program (school) for teen mamas and pregnant teens and while I’m very nervous for change, I am also very excited to invest in these young women. If you too, have been wondering, “Am I enough? Did I DO enough?” I guarantee your answer is yes.

Sometimes it takes some time to sit back and reflect on what YOUR life has looked like. If you’re a verbal or anecdotal processor like me, jot some things down in a notebook or journal. Think about this summer, and instead of dwelling just about the times you lost your patience and snapped at your kids [trust me, it HAS happened a LOT over here….] try to remember the surprise snow cone trips you’ve made, the sleepovers you’ve let your kids have, the late night movies, the extra treats and bags of popcorn, the fireflies caught in the backyard, the time spent with family.

You were enough.
You have done enough.
You ARE enough.

A Letter to My Ten Year Old Son

Ten years of you, my dear boy. Ten glorious, beautiful, BLESSED, years with you. I am so thankful the Lord trusted us to be YOURS. At 11:11am on 6/15/12, you were born into this big, scary, ever changing world. 

I was thinking, what have I learned in these ten years of being your mama? Well, the first is that time is fragile. You can’t stop it, or catch it, or hold it with your fingers. It slips through our fingers and truthfully, the cliche saying, “The days are long but the years are so fast,” couldn’t be more true for how I feel. 

Double digits. Wow, that is YOU, today. You are tall. Your long legs are so lean and strong. You love to play sports and have a new interest in soccer, which has been fun to watch. You are incredibly smart, and I can so see you being a savvy engineer one day. Maybe not. Maybe you’ll be a teacher. Or a doctor. Or a scientist. Maybe you’ll be a college athlete. Time will tell. And as I said, we already know that will feel like all too soon. 

The world needs you, Pierson Clive. You are a wonderful, brave, adventurous little boy that is going to change so many lives. You’ve changed mine, sweet boy. Oh how you have changed mine. 

In just ten more years, you will be twenty. Will you still be at home? Living with me and Dad? Going to a local college, maybe U of L? Again, time will tell. I can’t think about how there may be only “eight more summers” that you spend with me at home. My mind will explode and my heart will surely shatter. Instead I will be so thankful for what I do have with you—the time, the laughter, the memories, the hugs, the still nightly back tickles and you asking me to sing a bedtime song. 

The world is work, Pierson. There may be an easy route, a simpler path, but that doesn’t always make it right. I pray that you have work ethic, and grit. That you realize how sweet success is when you have put a little sweat into it. But beyond the physical work, my son, the world is full of emotional work as well. I pray that you will love dearly every version of you. I also pray that you will know and love and cling to Jesus. In every part of your life. That you will trust Him with the answers, and you will always seek Him first. In the good times and the bad, happy and sad…I promise He is walking with you.

Oh how you will change these next few months, these next years. Be quirky, goofy, curious, and believe in yourself even when others do not. And know this, whatever phase and stage you are in, your dad and I and SO MANY PEOPLE, believe in you. 

We love you. All ten years of you. The ups and downs, the funny and everything in between. I hope you look back on these ten years and smile. Knowing that we have loved every single second with YOU.

Happy 10th birthday, Pierson. Mama loves you so dang much.