Three-year-olds get a bad rap sometimes. Granted, for good reason, they are often dramatic, defiant, loud, and unpredictable. However, as I reflected on some of the traits of my little girl, I started to flip my perspective and consider all the positive aspects of three. I thought of the times that I have watched her in awe and I began to wonder what my life would be like if I took on some of the positive characteristics of my three-year-old daughter.
The black dot analogy connects to many of my life experiences. Specifically, the reality that parents and kids often remember experiences differently. It seems that moms are often harder on ourselves than our kids are on us. It makes me wonder, are kids somehow able to keep their focus on the whole page while parents struggle to see beyond the dot?
I thought to myself, this game stinks. I literally looked all over the house for hidden toys, aided solely on random, vague clues from a four year old, was laughed at, forgotten about, and then after finally finding the lost toy…nothing. Later, as I reflected on the game, I was struck by some of the similarities the game had to the fears I was trying to articulate about my faith journey. Especially recently, as I’ve faced several major life transitions, I have been a little bit stuck in fear and questions over what is supposed to happen next.
The black dot analogy connects to many of my life experiences. Specifically, the reality that parents and kids often remember experiences differently. It seems that moms are often harder on ourselves than our kids are on us. It makes me wonder, are kids somehow able to keep their focus on the whole page while parents struggle to see beyond the dot?
As I reflected on this transition to a new season, one question in particular kept repeating in my mind: What might it feel like to grow out of the season of uncertainty and lean into a season of hope?
As a stay-at-home parent, some of the biggest stresses for me throughout this pandemic have been adjusting to a wide-open schedule, concurrently fulfilling multiple roles, and dealing with a perpetual avalanche of thoughts and emotions.
Maybe we’re all superheroes just by doing our best to make our corner of the world a better place in our daily routines, in our small yet still significant interactions, words, and behaviors.
Even as an adult, I have found that many children’s books offer gentle, hope-filled reminders that I need in my own life.
I can’t enjoy every single minute of the day. I can, however, enjoy moments, even small ones, throughout the day.
Kindergarten!! How my little guy is already at the age of starting school is beyond me. As I’ve been working through all the logistics of our new routine, and processing the accompanying emotions, I decided to write a letter to my son, commemorating the beginning of his education.
the unexpected ever afters 