Author Archives: So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

About So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

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I'm a bookworm, nature lover, kick-boxer, candy fiend, sci fi geek, home body, progressive Christian and part-time student. I love my crazy life and the messy, fun, stubborn, silly, brilliant people who populate it.
October 11, 2011

The Silly Factor

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

We’re a family that likes to play games: Uno, Blokus, Sorry, Trouble, Charades… We try to make time at least once a week to play together. Another family tradition we have on these nights are the musical stylings of none other than… myself.

I’ve paid my dues, time after time.

So, I’m not exactly musical, at all. In fact, I’m rather tone deaf, but I more than compensate for this with sheer enthusiasm.

I’ve served my sentence, but committed no crime.

“No, Mom, not again! Why must she keep doing this?”

And bad mistakes, I’ve made a few.

Cue the groaning and eye rolling. The occasional pillow is thrown my way, but don’t fear, I am spry. I don’t want to die with this music in me!

I’ve had my share of sand kicked in my face, but I’ve come through!

This is where it gets loud!

Na-na-na-naaaaah-na

Naaaaaah-na

Naaaaaah-na

I AM THE CHAMPION MY FRIENDS

AND I’LL KEEP ON FIGHTING TO THE END!

I AM THE CHAMPION!

I AM THE CHAMPION!

NO TIME FOR LOSERS, CAUSE I AM THE CHAMPION…. OF THE WORLD!

In addition to illustrating what an incredibly gracious winner I am, this little conert is an example of one of our family’s greatest strengths. We are silly.

When the girls were little Glen use to tickle them while singing “May the bird of paradise fly up your nose, may an elephant caresse you with his toes…” I’m pretty sure HIS Dad used to sing it to him. My Dad preferred to make up his own words and was more likely to bellow bizarre phrases than sing. The words “Total Alabama!” were a frequent exclamation. I have no idea what it means, but it still makes me smile.

I don’t know what it is about kids that awaken the inner goofball. Both my husband and my father are fairly quiet and reserved people in most situations, but they can behave like complete nutbars with their children. It’s fun to laugh at and with each other, but it’s so much more than that.

Our absurd rituals and goofy traditions build intimacy. We create a weird and crazy world that is uniquely ours. Yes, we discipline, we fight, we build routines to make life run smoother… we love each other in hundreds of practical ways. But there’s something precious about the fun times when we truly LIKE each other too.

So here’s me, singing on and on and on and on.

Leave a comment   |  tags: , , , | posted in home-making, marriage, parenting

October 8, 2011

The BEST news ever!

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

I am following up yesterday’s post about the problem with chocolate with some awesome, stupendous, brilliant news! If you haven’t read it, this may not make that much sense to you. In a nutshell, our family has decided to boycott buying chocolate bars because they are made through the use of child slavery. I know, crazy right?

Now the good news… Cadbury is now making one of their most popular chocolate bars with Fair Trade cocoa beans.

My kids tell me this picture is "soooo cheesy and embarassing"

This means sustainable farming for the entire community and no child labour. It’s not a perfect system and needs to be constantly monitered to keep the pressure on, but it is definitely a step in the right direction.

Fair Trade Dairy Milk was launched summer 2010, but only in certain countries such as Britian, Ireland, New Zealand, Australia and, wait for it… CANADA!

I’m more than a little bit THRILLED that this is one of my all time favourites bars. I was willing to give up chocolate because it was the right thing to do. Now, I can support positive change by buying MORE chocolate. Life is good.

I considered titling yesterday’s post “Why Capitalism is Evil” but decided against it. While I’m not a communist, I do have a problem with powerful corporations ruling the world. This is for one simple reason: they do not have a soul. They aren’t designed that way. But we do. We, the consumers, hold far more power than we realize.

Why else would Cadbury go to the trouble and extra expense of doing the right thing? If we begin to expect better, to demand it, we can change business as usual. Vote with your wallet and let them know it. We influence corporations best by what we DO buy, rather than what we don’t.

So, Cadbury, I really appreciate what you’ve done for the people of West Africa. I will only be buying Fair Trade chocolate from now on, so be warned – sales of Dairy Milk may soar. Also, could you please, please, please make Fruit & Nut bars fair trade also? Those are really yummy and I’m going to miss them.

As for Hershey’s and Nestle… come on guys, get with the program! Your products are delicious, but I’m going to use my power as a consumer to do good and not evil.

 “This is the kind of WORSHIP I’m after: to break the chains of injustice, get rid of exploitation in the workplace, free the oppressed, cancel debts. What I’m interested in seeing you do is: sharing your food with the hungry, inviting the homeless poor into your homes, putting clothes on the shivering ill-clad, being available to your own families. Do this and the lights will turn on, and your lives will turn around at once. Your righteousness will pave your way. The God of glory will secure your passage.” (Isaiah 58:6-8)

 ~ God

So here’s me, rescuing the oppressed – one chocolate bar at a time.

1 Comment   |  tags: , , , , | posted in social justice, spiritual

October 7, 2011

The post you DON’T want to read

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

Have you ever wanted to UN-know something? Like when you finally make the connection that your parents have actually had sex, more than once. Or at the end of Return of the Jedi when you realize that Luke Skywalker had been seriously crushing on his own sister… ew!

This week one of my favourite bloggers put me in that horrific position again. I was both amused and self-righteous upon reading her blog about  Cheap Coffee. Since I neither drink it, nor can I even stand the smell, this was a safe and easy topic for me. The follow-up she posted the next day, however, was a shot to the heart.

I had heard hints of it before, but wrote it off as one of those over-reactive issues for people on the fringe: radical students, hippie men with dreadlocks and angry women in sensible shoes. Maybe I didn’t look too closely because I didn’t want to know.

If you prefer not to disturb your comfortable life, stop reading now.

Are you still reading because you are nosy and curious? I’m not kidding, this could change your life. And you can’t say I didn’t warn you.

Enough foreplay… now brace yourself. There is a problem with chocolate.

I can overlook the calories (and as you can clearly see, I often do). I can simply choose not to think about the non-organic ingredients. But I cannot be part of child slavery.

That’s right: 60% of the cocoa beans used by the major chocolate companies such as Hersheys, Mars, Nestle and others are from countries that often use child labour in the cocoa fields. More than 100,000 chidlren of the Ivory Coast are driven to it by extreme poverty. Others are stolen from their families and sold into a life of back-breaking labour and dangerous working conditions. All so huge corporations can rake in 80 billion dollars of profit each year and I can enjoy something sweet at the movies.

I have been asking God to show me something I can do, in the middle of my busy life, to make the world better. I did that very day, in fact. I have every advantage – power, wealth, education, free healthcare (go Canada!)… but it is not because I am better, smarter or more deserving. I simply happen to be born in a position of power. I could have been born in West Africa, and then I may have spent my childhood picking the beans instead of eating smarties.

I am a total chocoholic. And not the classy, grown up, thin wafer of dark chocolate after dinner. No siree, I want a big old chocolate bar: aero, oh henry, mars bar, dairy milk… a handful of chocolate chips if all else fails. But I’m also a mom.

How can I enjoy my favourite treat when I know there are children suffering for it? This seems like a crazy and radical stunt to even consider; like foregoing showers to reduce my carbon footprint, wearing clothes made entirely out of hemp, or selling all my possessions and giving the money to the poor.

Giving up chocolate? That doesn’t sound like me at all. But I’m definitely considering it. I’ve started the research and so far this is more than just a trendy hipster concern. If nothing else, the halloween bowl at our house will be filled with non-chocolate treats this year.

We each have to follow our own conscience. Perhaps this isn’t your fight. If you decide to whip out a chocolate bar in my presence, you need feel no guilt. There will be no judgment from me… though I may vault over the table to lick it off your fingers; hopefully this won’t make you too uncomfortable.

So here’s me, stocking up on fair trade chocolate. Read The Best News Ever to hear more about our family’s decision to fight child slavery and still eat delicious chocolate at a reasonable price.

Here it is, the blog that broke my heart: here, let me ruin Halloween for you

and the BBC Documentary that helped…

8 Comments   |  tags: , , | posted in social justice

October 4, 2011

Embracing the Raggedy Edges

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

We have a family motto that my Mom-in-law finds deeply disturbing: “It’s not great, but it’s good enough.”

It started one year as we tried to put the star on the Christmas tree. The slightly less than straight, but definitely much beloved tree our girls had picked out. Pretty soon we were saying it all the time – hanging a banner, decorating a cake, writing an email…

I didn’t set out to make mediocrity my goal. It’s hardly the stuff inspirational speeches and parenting books are written about. I do want my children to be wholehearted and hard working; to “work as if for the Lord and not for men”.

Yet I can’t bring myself to mold them into ideal Stepford children. Not only does it require enormous amounts of energy, but it sucks the joy out of life. As a recovering perfectionist I can tell you that the mindset is both exhausting and paralyzing. It’s hard to get anything done, when every little thing has to be done with excellence.

Instead I will train them to pick their battles; to save their time and energy for those things that are most important. I want them to know that they can do anything, but they can’t do everything. Hopefully I will teach them this while learning it myself.

It is hard to accept that I have limits and to live within those boundaries. So when the ghost of Martha Stewart (I know she’s not dead, but she does seem to haunt all women from time to time) peers over my shoulder with a disapproving look, I just say that motto out loud. It’s not great, but it’s good enough.

So here’s us, where life is messy and somewhat crooked… and good enough.

Leave a comment   |  tags: , , , | posted in home-making, parenting

September 30, 2011

The Flaw

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

I’ve kept quiet for many years about this. Okay, not exactly, but mostly I suffer in silence. Since I started this blog I have taken the opportunity to sing my husband’s praises through it. And he really is the best guy around – a wonderful father and human being. But sometimes he really bugs me.

It’s not a marriage thing; anyone you spend a lot of time with will find it. That thing, that seemingly insignificant, small thing that irritates you like nothing else. Other people may barely even notice, but this thing will drive you batty. Perhaps I am more neurotic than most, but I have quite a few pet peeves.

Thankfully, Glen does in fact understand the correct way to load toilet paper: from the TOP people! He understands the need to put the toilet seat DOWN (which makes my first thing in the morning dash to the bathroom much more pleasant). I am forever grateful to my mother-in-law for raising a son who puts his dirty dishes in the kitchen, dirty socks in the hamper and dirty self into the shower.

However… he does have one dark flaw, and it is something I “have a thing about”. Each week I collect, sort, wash, dry AND fold the laundry. I’m somewhat anal about it. Growing up, wash day was Monday, and I cannot feel quite right with the world if we have dirty clothes kicking around on Tuesday, or heaven forbid – Wednesday. The rest of my life may be descending into madness – dishes to the ceiling, crunchy floors and grimy bathrooms, but we WILL have clean clothes on Tuesday.

After busting my butt to produce this minor housekeeping miracle, I expect the neatly folded piles of clean laundry, which have been conveniently delivered to each person’s room, to be PUT AWAY. Each of my children puts their own clothes away. It was one of the first chores they learned. Even the baby was doing her part (as soon as she was able to stand on her own – I’m not a monster). It could be because their mom is the laundry Nazi, but I like to think it’s because this incredibly simple task is the least they can do to assist me with my Very Important Work (aka: laundry).

We talked about it when we were first married and he agreed. Not a big deal… totally something he could do… he was happy to help, and yet it hardly ever happened. All week I would eye that basket of clothes on the floor while he rummaged through it for what he needed. Determined not to nag, I decided to just ignore it and see how long it took before he actually put his shirts IN the drawer. Five laundry baskets precariously stacked with a smattering of clean clothes in the bottom of each one and STILL he would rather hunt through the stacks than empty the things.

I like to think of myself as a reasonable, peace-loving human being, but this could very well have pushed me over the edge. He really wasn’t trying to be a jerk or disrespect me in any way. He just doesn’t see it. In fact, he floated the idea of doing away with drawers entirely, just living out of the baskets.

Eventually I realized that this little, but extremely crucial issue could cause our relationship serious stress. Relationships can be destroyed by the silliest things. Friends, siblings, co-workers, room-mates… pretty much anyone who is up in your face long enough for you to want to punch them in theirs. Of course, in the end it’s not about how to fold the towels or who is a better driver, but it can start there. The spark that starts the fire doesn’t need to be a big one. I watched a bitter divorce unfold with the major battle being who should clean out the garage.

I know wives all over the world have been putting clothes away for centuries without complaint, but somehow I got it in my head that I shouldn’t have to. And I don’t, I really don’t. But I decided that this would be my act of sacrificial love. It may not seem that romantic, but it is a marriage builder in our home.

For more than a decade I have been putting shirts, pants, socks and boxers away while repeating the mantra “an act of love, an act of love, an act of love.” To be honest, I don’t think he’s even noticed. Every once in a while that irritation sneaks up on me again, but it’s good for me. Glen says it all the time – love isn’t just a feeling, it is an act of the will. And in our house, that means drawers full of clean laundry.

So here’s me, grateful that he loves me by overlooking the garbage I leave in his car, clipping my toenails in front of the t.v. and even peanut butter breath.

2 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , | posted in home-making, marriage

September 26, 2011

Everything Must Change

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

It snuck up on me. A conference on social justice that we had signed up for months ago – before we realized what a crazy, busy season of life this would be and before head colds swept through the family. Part of me was thrilled to escape a house full of snotty kleenexes and whiney patients; another part was wishing I could curl up on the couch with them. But I’m sure glad I didn’t.

I listened to some amazing authors and speakers tell story after story about the projects they were involved in. Impressive campaigns to rescue young girls from sexual slavery, reform the mental health system, lobby corporations on behalf of migrant workers, battle the HIV/Aids pandemic, and on and on and on. Brilliant, driven men and women who, let’s face it, would intimidate a saint with their passion and selflessness.

Just the other day I felt completely overwhelmed by a counter full of dirty dishes. How can I face a planet full of suffering and injustice? Even now I can hear the siren song of mediocrity. Leave the world-changing to someone who is smarter and more powerful than you. You can barely keep up with your own busy life, how can you possibly do more? You do more than most people, pat yourself on the back and turn the T.V. back on.

I had braced myself for a heaping dose of guilt; for pictures of starving children with distended bellies and flies in their eyes, for stories that would rip my heart out. Perhaps a stirring rendition of “Man in the Mirror”? And I did dirty my shirt sleeve wiping tears and mascara streaks away (note to self – next time bring kleenex).

One man told the story of touring a hospital in Africa. The staff were kind, but overwhelmed. There were 4-5 babies in each crib. As he walked through, he was startled by an inhuman wail. Turning around, he realized it was the cry of a young mother as a white sheet was placed over the face of her infant daughter. Only a short time later he heard it again, then again and again – almost every 10 minutes during his visit there was another anguished scream.

But this was not the theme of the day. The story I heard repeatedly was one of hope and faith and joy. Each of these powerhouse leaders told stories about their relationships, not their causes.

My friend from Guatemala who is supporting his 11 siblings…

My friend who has schizophrenia…

My friend who cannot feed her children…

not sad stories, but inspiring individuals.

Yes, they are strategic. They are seeking restorative justice and systematic change. But this is not charity – they are simply looking out for their friends.

That’s something even I can handle. I may not understand the complexities of political change or walk with the movers and shakers in society. But I can be a friend to someone who needs it.

There is so much wrong with the world, so much that needs to change. It seems overwhelming. Yet, the greatest requirement of my faith is incredibly simple: love God and love others.

Can I do that? Can you? Can you make the world a better place for one person? That’s social justice. That’s where real change starts.

“We can do no great things, but only small things with great love.” ~Mother Theresa

So here’s me, finally washing my dishes… with great love. 😉

Leave a comment   |  tags: , , | posted in social justice, spiritual

September 23, 2011

The X Factor

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

It was the best of T.V. It was the worst of T.V.

Simon Cowell’s slick marketing has paid off in our house. Our family jumped right on the bandwagon last night – or at least pulled up a chair to watch the fallout. He’s a money-grubbing jerk and I really can’t stand him, so what am I doing here? What is the allure of reality T.V?

It appeals to our worst instincts….

You know, the one that taps on the brakes when you pass by an accident. The one that has you craning your neck to catch  a glimpse of the fashion faux-pas your children are snickering about. The one that perks up your ears when the couple in the booth behind you is having a heated argument. These are the instincts that make reality T.V. so appealing.

We’re amused when people play the fool. We enjoy a chance to heckle with impunity (or maybe that’s just me). And there is something interesting about seeing just HOW BAD it can get, whether it is dancing, singing, or contrived social situations.

In the grand tradition of She Bang there were many “What the WHAT?” contestants last night. The perennial question is: are these people actually trying or is it just a cheap ploy to get their 5 minutes of fame? For their sake, I hope it’s the latter. Although the shocked and outraged rants following can be rather convincing; perhaps a future in acting?

Note to parents: When watching reality T.V. with children in the room one must keep a finger on the fast forward button at all times. We have taught our kids to yell “BEEP” when something happens with which we disagree. This is a fine time for moral discussions and exploring our family’s stance on _________ (insert: sluttiness, profanity, grandstanding, arrogance, stupid hair cuts), and that’s just the judges.

Case in point: the low light of the night’s episode was a smarmy middle-aged hippy in velour pajamas singing his anthem “I’m a stud, not a dud” while stripping off said pjs. Even in fast forward this was horrifying. I’m slightly disturbed that his profession was listed as “internet blogger.” Are these my people now?

I’m not a complete idiot. My brother-in-law is a big cheese in this industry, so I know that reality shows are not entirely (or even mostly) real. Yet somehow I am willing to overlook the obnoxious shenanigans, shameless self promotion and forced emotion to find the happy ending.

It appeals to our best instincts…

It’s not all hip thrusts and screeching; there are also the highly cheesy but deeply satisfying “diamond in the rough” storylines too. Tonight is was the cute 13 year old who announced to the world that her family “has, like, no money” and then went on to sing like a seasoned pro. And the heavily tattooed garbage man fresh out of rehab trying to prove something to his young son, singing a touching if unfortunately named original song, “Young Homie”.

But the real tear jerker for me was single mom Stacy Francis. After years in an abusive relationship, she began to believe that she was not talented enough, not young enough, not good enough, quite simply not enough.  At 42 she stepped up and said, “I don’t want to die with this music in me.” She sang Natural Woman in front of thousands, if not millions of people, and blew us away. Whether fame and fortune follows or not, she gave the world a moment of pure brilliance.

Was it real? Does it matter? Despite the over the top theatrics, there is something uplifting about watching people succeed, even if it is only for a moment.

So here’s me, with one finger on fast forward and one eye open for the next Susan Boyle (or William Hung, whatever).

3 Comments   |  tags: , , , | posted in media, parenting

September 19, 2011

Get Naked

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

I got naked in church yesterday. It wasn’t easy, but I was brave. I decided to bare it all.

No, I wasn’t streaking in the sanctuary. Nor did I go topless to prayer meeting (that’s never going to happen, just to be clear). I only stripped in a metaphorical sense.

I’ve been organizing an art project for the past several months. Half a dozen artists each painted a canvas to represent a different name of God. The result has been eclectic and chaotic and more than a little bit awesome. Each piece is so unique, and listening to the stories behind them has been inspiring.

Most of the artists have snuck into the office with their canvas wrapped in layers of paper and clutched to their chest so no one can see it. It takes visible effort for them to hand it over. I would pat their hand and say something reassuring, all the while wondering what their problem was. These are beautiful works of art… what’s with the hesitant shuffle and apologetic explanations?

Then I decided to make one of my own. Granted, this is not my medium; I am a writer, not an artist. I knew I would be the only novice in the company of accomplished artists. But we are hoping to open this project up to everybody in the church – so someone should represent the regular folks. We all have a voice, and the purpose of this project is to give everyone a chance to worship this way.

I had a great idea. I still love that idea. The final product isn’t perfect, it isn’t everything I hoped it would be, but it’s still a little piece of me.

So now, it’s me sneaking into the office clutching my canvas to my chest, afraid to show a single person. And I realized that this isn’t a new feeling. It reminds me of the way my heart drops into my stomach immediately after I press the “publish” button on this blog.

I write for myself. I enjoy the process. All day long I scribble random thoughts and phrases on scraps of paper. I would probably do it even if no one ever read it. But the minute I put it out there for the world to see I start to feel a little bit naked.

Does it say what I want it to say?

Will they understand?

Will they like it?

Will they like me?

And there it is. The crux of the matter. To quote George McFly “I just don’t think I can take that kind of rejection.”

So here’s me, with a new appreciation for nudists and artists alike.

3 Comments   |  tags: , , , | posted in creativity

September 12, 2011

Capital ‘P’

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

I remember the moment you were born. It was so quiet – not a cry, not a gurgle, nothing… Your Dad tells me that it was only about 30 seconds before you started crying, but I had already started freaking out, “Is she okay?! Is she okay?! What’s wrong?” That little squall was one of the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard.

When they held you up for me to see I couldn’t believe how adorable you were. I fell even more in love with you. You looked like a little baby burrito and you had the sweetest little face (still do).

We spent the next 4 weeks sitting on uncomfortable stools while peering into the baby aquarium (aka: incubator), then holding you gingerly so as not to jar all the tubes and needles, taking turns driving to the hospital in the middle of the night to try to get you to eat, and finally bringing you home where you belonged. That whole time, while I was scarfing down cafeteria food and covertly skimming through your file, I was researching. While I shadowed the nurses and learned about everything in the special care nursery, I was researching. While I was playing milk cow and preparing tube feedings – still researching.

We were given a stack of books, brochures and web page print outs like you wouldn’t believe. And to be honest, they were helpful. They prepared us for the leukemia scare, the tests and medical procedures, explaining Down Syndrome to your sisters and a thousand other things. But they were filled with frightening statistics and scary possibilities.

You were already so precious to us, and the thought of you facing all those difficulties broke my heart. I wish I had known then what wonderful things lay ahead. I wish they had told me that.

I wish they had told me that you would love with abandon. That one of our biggest problems would be trying to get you to stop kissing EVERYONE. That you would melt the stoniest heart with your huge grin. That we would make friends everywhere we went, because you’re so cute and charming!

I wish they had told me that you would make us laugh everyday with the crazy things you do. That you would pray every single night for God to bless your “chocolate face”. That you would perform beside the TV whenever we watch “So You Think You Can Dance” – ballet, the samba, hip hop… you name it. That you would end each dance, song and occasional mealtime prayer with “Ta Da!”

I wish that they could have told me, along with all those intimidating statistics that there was a 100% chance of fun. That despite all the headaches and heartaches along the way, you would fill our life with pride and laughter and joy. I think this song from MY childhood says it best:

You are a promise.

You are a possibility.

You are a promise, with a Capital ‘P’.

You are a great, big bundle of POTENTIALITY!

So here’s to B, my pride and joy! Happy 7th Birthday!

10 Comments   |  tags: , , , | posted in parenting, special needs

September 6, 2011

Bippety Boppety Boo!

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

I would listen with rapt attention to everything they said. I noticed how they dressed, found their jokes hilarious and craved their advice. They had credibility for one simple reason: they were NOT my parents.

Most of us have had at least one person who took an interest in us when we were young. Especially in the teen years these adults seemed cooler, smarter and infinitely more interesting than our own parents. With only a few minutes attention when we need it most, they can have a HUGE impact on our lives – for better or for worse. When I was trying to figure out who I wanted to become it was these youth leaders, sunday school teachers, friend’s parents and family members who made a difference. My parents set me on the right track and they encouraged me to stay the course.

Back when I did staff training we called it the “expert-with-a-briefcase effect.” Everyone would listen and respond so much better when an outsider was brought to teach them exactly the same things we had been saying all along! I couldn’t take it personally, since the same held true when I went somewhere else as the “expert.” We all sit up a little straighter and open our minds a bit wider when the teaching comes from someone new.

Last weekend I stood in front of the church and made vows. I had been asked asked to stand up as my neice’s godmother. Now, I must confess this is not my first gig as a godparent. Unfortunately, between job changes and moves across the country, we have lost touch with the family that asked us over a decade ago. We don’t really know our godson and even with Facebook in the mix it doesn’t seem likely to change. But I am determined to do better this time around, even more so after all the solemn promises I made.

The ceremony was held in a beautiful old church complete with liturgy, vestments, kneeling and all sorts of Anglican customs that seemed both strange and exotic to me. Godparenting is not something Baptists have embraced and I think it’s a real shame. All parents could use a little spiritual back-up; an expert from the outside if you like.

It’s easy right now – my neice is a sweet, happy baby who gives a great snuggle. She has a bit of a puking problem, but she and I have discussed it and we feel it’s under control. But I want to be there for the not-so-easy days too:

when an unkind word seems like the END of the world…

when parents are JUST SO UNFAIR…

when it feels like no boy will EVER look her way…

when they do…

when church seems ____________ (stupid/boring/hypocritical/irrelevant)…

when there are more questions than answers and God seems far away…

Thank you to all of you who were there for me on those days! I hope my own kids will find role models like you. People who are not only fun and silly, but wise and compassionate. Parents are absolutely crucial, but the old saying is also true: it takes a village.

With a busy family of my own, being a godmother seems somewhat daunting, but oh, so important. Not because her parents aren’t terrific, but because they are. Since most of the godparenting examples I know of are either magical fairies or ruthless mobsters, I’m asking for help. I do all the talking in this blog and I’d love to hear from you for a change.

So here’s me, asking for your ideas. What are some practical ways I can support my new god-daughter?

Plus, a muppet clip… just ’cause.

3 Comments   |  tags: , , | posted in parenting, spiritual