You Got This…(?)

You Got This…(?)

Four weeks post-op. No cancer. No girlie parts on the inside. My tummy full of foreign objects is now a cave of emptiness (or so I imagine). I’ve had 2 follow up Doctor visits and I keep hearing how great I’m doing. I think a doctor’s point of view has a much wider contextual range than I do for my own life, and therefore I can consider an evaluation of “great” to be true and motivating, even though I feel like I’ll never jog again. My husband has a different view of “great” and he’s still counting the weeks as if they were months. 😉 The cramming together of a radical hysterectomy along with my firstborn son’s college graduation seems like too much to capture, and I’m sure that’s the source of my procrastination (and this garbled mess)....

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What if we are brave?

What if we are brave?

If we try to hide our children from controversial content, they may not learn to think for themselves about important issues they’ll face throughout their life. If we try to force our own views on them without demonstrating openness to always-new ways of seeing people, we might miss a chance to teach and learn the mightiest of skills ourselves. If we don’t teach them a foundation of love and truth because we’re uneducated or unsure ourselves about the deepest love and truth, we most definitely will miss the chance to escort our children across the thresholds that we ourselves already crossed. May you, together with all God’s people, grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge…Eph...

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When a marriage gets moved into new digs.

When a marriage gets moved into new digs.

How can a heart soar and cringe all at the same time? As a mom of a wide range of kids, I should know this sensation all too well by now. For Pete’s sake, my 21 year old recently sent a photograph of his body practically dangling over the far edge of a cliff along the Oregon coast. Rude and heartless. Tonight as 8-year-old Jack gave us a thumbs-up and sailed away amidst the crowd on his razor scooter, I fully wanted to be Elastigirl and reach out to snatch him back to within my comfort zone. The crowd was getting thick, folks gathering for the concert in the park on a breezy Sunday evening in our new village in Southern California. All at once in my head: “where am I” and “this rocks.” How can I force my heart to be calm and easy as he whisks away,...

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Embarking on new adventures and finding our own old footprints

Embarking on new adventures and finding our own old footprints

Sometimes when we forge new paths, we find footprints we ourselves left decades earlier. Our family is moving back to Southern California from the serene and naturally beautiful Western edge of the mitten state. (Hold up your left hand.) I spent my childhood in Michigan, so I have a deep fondness for the lakes and the uniqueness of this state’s magnificent geography and sweet fun-loving people. I left LA 20 years ago when my eldest was less than 2, believing that I wanted to raise my kids in the values-orientation of the Midwest rather than the maniacal superficiality of the Hollywood State. To be true, my point of view was skewed by my own untamed lifestyle in the 80’s and 90’s, and it was impossible for me to imagine any healthy upbringing for my children...

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Moving kids and being ready for miracles.

Moving kids and being ready for miracles.

It’s true. We’ve taken the leap and accepted great career roles in a far-away city. Our family now begins the physical and emotional relocation process that will require giant shifts in our experiences as a family, and as tiny people on a big planet. People sometimes reveal their own experiences – or fears – with their reactions to the uprooting of our school age, happily ingrained kids. Some gasp at our decision to move to a big city, or away from our cozy community. Some know they’d never do it, and I totally get that because it’s not easy. Truly, though, the people who know and love us most react the same: the hand of God is clear and it’s too exciting to miss. Lock arms: Go. A move like this is a process that requires us to be intensely...

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How we keep the ’60s alive in our home.

How we keep the ’60s alive in our home.

Around here, of late, I have been referred to as “Eva.” Over the years, my husband has habitually watched certain movies and announced “she’s just like YOU!” He has too-kindly compared me to Sandra Bullock’s character in The Blind Side (though I’ve never had the wherewithal or sidearm the likes of Leigh Anne Tuohy). And on a good day, I’ve been accused of being like Katherine Hepburn’s Bunny Watson. But most recently, it’s been “Eva.” Eva Gabor. It started one evening, right around dusk. We were sitting in the family room watching The Voice and out back, just past the edge of the trees, I saw a large four legged shadow weaving hauntingly through the foliage. I hopped up and could tell it was a coyote. A what??? Naturally I sent a very...

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