Confessions of a Daughterless Mother

"My Bible study question talked about the country of Israel needing rest from war injustice, spiritual turmoil, etc. Then asked what kinds of rest I need. For some reason I thought of you and am hoping you are getting the rest you need." I was sitting in the Meijer parking lot collecting my purse and thoughts when this text chimed through. As I read, my eyes filled with tears. I am so tired. I do need rest.  More so my tears came because I was so grateful to have a friend in tune enough with me - and God - that she reached out. Loving me from her words. I was physically stricken when I read it. How did I not realize how tired I was? How did I not know that putting one foot in front of the other had become so difficult. I cried for a little while in my car alone. Sunglasses on. Overwhelmed with my list for the day, the gravity of some parenting choices I had made lately, pondering a few situations and wondering how I could have avoided or changed them. I gathered my worn o

One of my favorite pictures of my boys ever ...  Last week at lacrosse practice with Jackson I was chatting with a gentleman who I hadn't met before. His son is on the younger team, we were making small talk before practice started. As those conversations do, it wound its way to how many children we each had. And as has happened countless times in the last 18 years - I heard the same response to telling a stranger I have three boys. "Cross your fingers and pray to God thank you that you don't have any girls.  Boys are so much easier." This time, I stopped him as he crossed his own fingers and tipped his head back with closed eyes to implore me to thank my lucky stars that God did not give me a daughter. "Yes, I know. Girls are so much harder. I'm sure the 18 bones my middle son has broken was a piece of cake to handle compared to the life you live." I couldn't believe it came out of my mouth, actually. I often think it, the off handed

                                                        (Photo credit to Lisa Broyles) Everyday my boys do something that amazes me. From the beginning - lifting their heads up the day they were born (all three of them did!), rolling over, walking, talking, running, learning, reading, biking, hiking, throwing, batting, shooting - they amaze me. But the fact of the matter is, they aren't amazing. They have never started a charity to end world hunger, it's not likely that they will cure cancer or lead the free world. They are good kids, with good hearts who work hard and screw up from time to time. They aren't perfect, amazing, unbelievable or astounding. Their momma thinks they are - but they are in fact - not amazing. When the boys were little I remember reading an article in Parenting  magazine (back when I had a subscription of the paper mag that came right to my mailbox!) regarding praising children. The article focused on toddlers and preschoolers and praising th