Dolly Parton’s Coat of Many Colors

Have I ever told you that movies speak to me?

There’s just something about stories that grab my attention, and more times than I can count, God has used, of all things, movies to speak to me. To give me revelation. To confirm a calling. To open my eyes.

It’s a strange thing to be sitting in a theater bawling because God used a particular story to change my entire world. But that’s what he does.

A movie set me free. A movie told us to have a baby. And recently, a movie made me a better mom.

Wanna know how? You can check out my nostalgic review at the Knoxville Mom’s Blog and then you can watch Dolly Parton’s Coat of Many Colors, which will re-air on Christmas night at 9pm Eastern time.

 

“But there was something about the mother in that movie, in that little house in the mountains with all those kids and nothing but love, that my heart yearned for.”

8 Christmas Bulletin Boards

December will be here soon. With that comes winter and Christmas and all kinds of bright and cheery. As a preschool teacher, I love to create an environment where my kiddos can see and feel the excitement of the season! What better way to do that than creating colorful bulletin boards?!

If You Love Her, Let Her Go

It was casual.

She sat on the couch for an hour watching Aladdin and when we told her it was time to get ready she decided she wanted to play upstairs instead.

I thought she was wavering.

But she wasn’t.

She came down ten minutes later with her blanket and a tea set. Walked up to me. Smiled. Gave me a hug. And said, “Bye Mommy.” As if that was all that was necessary. She had made up her mind. She was resolute. And she was ready to go.

Not ready to go to Grandmommy’s for a night or to spend the day with her cousin or to go downstairs to her class for five hours.

She was ready to go outside. Get in my parents’ car. And drive twelve hours to my brother’s house in Texas.

Without me.

Eldon’s First Birthday Party

It’s true. Just a few posts back I was showing his nursery. Now I’m showing his first birthday. That, my friends, is just kind of how this first year has gone.

I blinked.

Yes.

 
He’s my “Yes” child.

Not that the Pickle was a “no” child. She was a faith child. An “okay God… You’re nuts, but whatever you say” child.

His arrival was not that clear. Not that expected.

He was that quiet whisper on a cold winter night. God asked, “Will you trust me?” And all we could answer was “Yes.”

And now he is our yes.

He’s having trouble sleeping, should I just keep him with me?

Yes.

He doesn’t like solid food. Do you think he’ll like a nibble of birthday cake?

Yes.

He seems to be wide awake… Should we let him stay up longer until he’s tired?

Yes.

He wakes me up three times a night. Should I keep going in to him?

Yes.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Yes, I will cuddle him and squeeze him and kiss his face.

Yes, I will help him find comfort when he is distraught (even if ‘comfort’ is a paci)

Yes, I will pick him up when he crawls to me and climbs up my leg and smiles.

Yes, I will hold him while I get dinner ready, if for no other reason than to save my own sanity from his crying.

Yes. 

And in the middle of the night when I’m pushed past my breaking point or late in the day when I can’t move a muscle and I have kids climbing all over me…

Even then I find myself gazing at him – so perfect and beautiful – and I say yes. 

Yes. Yes. Yes, Baby Boy.

Sometimes I Regret Having Children

Shared my heart on the Knoxville Moms Blog today.

It’s been a rough year. So much pain and suffering in the world, so much darkness, so much sadness. And sometimes I just can’t even turn on the news.

And then I look at my children. And the knowledge that they will grow up in this world, quite possibly an even darker version of this world than even we have known, is too much to bear. BUT…

But I put my hope in Christ. And I know this world was never meant to be our home and there is no peace and no light apart from Him. And I look at these precious little ones who I would give my life for…

and I am so thankful that He already has.

Click to read.

When Enough is Enough

I remember like it was yesterday. Sitting in his office in the music building.  Surrounded by a mess of sheet music, instruments that needed repaired, playbills, pencils, and metronomes. We were discussing my role in the school play. It was my senior year of high school, and as such I was hoping to make it a banner year. But I also had a great deal of other responsibilities. I was launching out while making my last stand as a high school student.

It was a busy year.

He told me when practices would be. They conflicted with other things, naturally, but if I left early or worked late or came in during study hall I could make it work. He showed me what my responsibilities would be. I wasn’t certain when I would have time to learn the lines or practice the songs or put in the long hours… but I was trying to make it work!

And then he looked me in the eyes and paused a dramatic moment before speaking truth into my deepest struggle ever:

“Jenny. You really need to learn to say ‘no’.”

Sneaking into the Sacred

Every day there is a new revelation of my 4-year-old’s brain. I SERIOUSLY cannot keep up. I try to write the moments down. I try to remember the cute phrases or the deep questions. I try.

But wow.

Occasionally, not as often as I’d like, but occasionally I will wake up early and sit in the big brown recliner with a red cup of coffee and I will read my pink leather Bible that my sweet husband gave me for my 28th birthday. And it is quiet. And still. And glorious.

Occasionally.

And on occasion, I will be in the middle of reading when the little footfalls hit the stairs-

Different

  

There was a time once… When going to the beach meant something different. It meant getting away. Catching up. Long walks. Deep thoughts. Early runs. Brilliant mornings. Starlit nights. For me it was a time to clear my head and pour out my thoughts on salty damp paper. But now? Now it’s something I barely recognize. 

 Now it’s three people in one bed. Millions of wakings. Sand… Everywhere. Needing shade. Needing snacks. Needing sunscreen. Needing a nap. Needing entertained. And never quite getting enough of anything. It’s tantrums. And laughter. And catch me one more time. Don’t let me go under water. Watch me jump. Watch me run. Watch me throw. Now it’s who has the baby? How much can you carry? What’s for dinner? And breakfast and lunch and… What time is it anyways? 

  I confess there are times I miss the old beach days. The days of peace and reflection. When I gazed out past the crashing waves of childhood and sank deep in that elusive horizon. But now each time my eyes wander out there I hear a squeal and am forced to look back. Back to the crest. Back to the turbulent and adventurous and unpredictable and wonderful crashing of these little tiny waves that seem so big. And my feet keep slipping out from under me until they’re buried in this new day. 

  This new beach experience. The one I will miss in ten. Twenty. Thirty years. When I sit and stare out at the horizon and wish I could see the frolicking little waves once again. It’s different now. Not better. Not worse. Not easier. But not harder either. Just… Different. And these little waves are stripping away my desperation for what the beach should be and making room in my heart for what it is. 

  Ever-changing. Ever-new. Ever full of memory-making and dream-catching. And I weep sadness over my lost horizon but weep joy over my found shore and can’t believe my heart could stretch so big. So wide. To grasp the uncontainable joy of my #pirateprincess and to get lost in the curiosity of my #littlebuddE with eyes like the ocean. It’s wonderfully different and exhausting and I just don’t know if I’m doing it right but I’m doing it. This new beach. This new life. 

   
 

The One Thing I Won’t Do This Summer

We’re going to the beach.

In just a few weeks I will be lying on white sand soaking up the sun, the surf… and probably a margarita. I’ll watch my kids play in the sand.  I’ll revel in their joy, bask in their beautiful memory-making, and thoroughly enjoy the way that they crash HARD at night.

But there is one thing that I won’t do.