This post is such a beautiful reminder that sometimes the best lessons in life are found right in front of us. I loved re-reading about joy, kindness, laughter, and praise through the eyes of a child.
This post is such a beautiful reminder that sometimes the best lessons in life are found right in front of us. I loved re-reading about joy, kindness, laughter, and praise through the eyes of a child.
As I thought about this, I wondered what was pulling me away from enjoying the moment. I realized it often wasn’t the “What’s next?” question, as I had expected and wrote about in my last post. Although, my emotions were still focused on the ingrained future-thinking, there was a key difference: “What’s NOT next?” What is part of this moment that won’t be the same in the future?
My eight year old son was recently plagued by a recurring nightmare. This nightmare disrupted our sleep and exacerbated his already slow moving, groggy mornings. Being no stranger to sleeplessness due to middle of the night awake sessions, I turned to a handful of tricks to try to ease his night fears. Interestingly, some of the kid-friendly nightmare vanquishing tips have actually helped me with my own overthinking. Parenting has an amusing way of ensuring I am learning as much as I am teaching.
Although the ongoing changes of the past few months have created a season of upheaval for my family, there is something about this transition to Kindergarten that feels so final, even more permanent than a change in address or employment. It is something that we cannot turn back from. The school years have begun.
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.