Six Weeks {CELEBRATE This Week: 192}

I'm glad you are here to celebrate! 

Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link. 

Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.

*******

I have six weeks until a milestone birthday. I'm not one who marks time according to numbers, but when I consider that it is likely I'm nearing (or past) the midway point of life on this earth, it gives me a little pause.

I've been thinking about what I ought to accomplish in the next six weeks to be ready to face the big four-oh. For me it has centered around physical health. I've been rolling around all of the things I should be doing.

My thoughts were stirring things like running again and drinking more water and lifting weights. I walked out of the same building where I started teaching 17 years ago. The sun winked at me and fresh air tickled my nose. I was reminded to live in the moment.

I shook the should-be's until all that was left was be. 

It's not easy for a thinker to be. I'm training myself to stop reflecting and wondering and questioning and planning and whirling.

I'm learning to be.

They've not been easy lessons. 

I'm not a fast learner.

Maybe instead of training for a 5K, I'll bring home learning how to be.

The six week plan --

1. Say YES more.
2. Sit outside.
3. Take time to walk slow.
4. Send handwritten notes.
5. Cook (or bake) because it's fun.
6. Plant flowers.

I think this will be the best way to enter the next decade with grace and grit.

I Have Time {CELEBRATE This Week: 178}

I'm glad you are here to celebrate! 

Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link. 

Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.

***

I'm not exactly sure when it happened, but somehow we went from toys and goldfish crackers to late night movies and high heels. We don't have a house full of little kids anymore. I don't miss it as much as I thought I would.  It reminds me of a stance I claimed a decade ago as Sam moved from infant to toddler.

I reread the caption [on an Instagram photo that could have been my undoing], My favorite season of parenthood yet, and I was reminded of a young momma who was completely captivated by her blue-eyed toddler. I was younger then, before I was scraped by the ugly of the world, and I was enamored by how quickly my little boy changed. I missed the late night bottles in the wooden rocking chair, but I loved that he danced in the kitchen while I cooked dinner. I missed pureeing the baby food, but I loved that he took the last sip of my tea each morning. 

I realized parenting was always going to be about missing something and loving something new. The seasons change. I decided then, as a young momma -- before I knew the way trauma changes a child and before I knew I had two daughters and another son out there facing the ugly this world offers, waiting to someday let me be their momma too -- I decided I would always allow my favorite season of parenthood to be the current season. 

The Instagram post stung not because I'm an inferior momma, but  because it revealed that I'm not keeping up my end of the deal. I'm not letting right now be my favorite season of parenthood.

Parenting is always about missing something and loving something new. As they get busier, I have to be still. This isn't easy in a world where busy is a badge of honor. 

Hannah slid across the kitchen counter, her knees wobbly on the stool, and the stories and thoughts and giggles spilled out. I waited for dinner to finish cooking. There were a zillion other things for me to do, but I sat and I listened.

I sometimes forget that I don't have to be busy. Busy is a choice, a decision, a mindset. I do not have to decide to be busy. There is another option.

I have time.

It is true. 
Don't believe the lie the universe is telling. 

Busy isn't important. Busy isn't success. Busy isn't achievement.

I'm heading into a weekend filled with good stuff -- there are 8 major commitments on our calendar for the next two days. Rather than lamenting, We're so busy! Andy and I have decided to claim time. We are an active family, and there are events outside of our control. We didn't schedule the band competition or the boy scout outing. We didn't schedule the visitation times or the Super Bowl. We simply said Yes, we have time.

This weekend I'll wash laundry a little later at night than I prefer and my walks will be a little shorter than I prefer. This is the essence of having time -- we make adjustments to our preferences in order to have time to love more.

Because in the end, it's not about being busy, but about loving more.

I'm glad you are here to celebrate. Your act is one of claiming time. Cheers!

i get to be their momma {CELEBRATE This Week: 166}

I'm glad you are here to celebrate! 

Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link. 

Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.

*****

These are my kids. 

None of them grew in my belly. 

All have histories that don't include me.

Let me introduce them, starting at the bottom of the photo.

Jordan is 11. He joined our forever family in 2013, when he was nearly 8. He lived for more than 7 years in foster care. You want his eyelashes, I promise. He has a contagious smile. He loves football. His strength is his resilience.

Sam is 10. He was our first child, adopted at birth in 2006. I cut the cord. He has an obnoxious amount of knowledge about trains. His strength is his ability to love people when they are hard to love. His favorite thing to do is have fun and makes sure everyone around him is lighthearted and laughing.

Stephanie is 12. She joined our forever family in 2008 when Sam was 2. She's a beast on the basketball court. She's creative and independent. She takes care of herself. Her strength is her resolved to overcome.

Hannah is 15. We adopted her at the same time as Stephanie; they have been together their entire lives. Hannah loves to read, especially historical fiction and greek mythology. She is an old woman trapped in a teenager's body. Her strength is her commitment to grow into the best version of herself as possible. She is a beautiful mess.

My celebration is I get to be their momma.

It's not an easy gig.

Motherhood never is.

This week I wrote about a key feature of stories.

Stories have struggles.

It is a truth that stabbed my heart. It's one thing to know this as a technical part of writing. If your story doesn't have a struggle, then it's not really a story anyone wants to read. Fiction writers ensure their stories are ones people want to read by plunging their characters into struggle after struggle after struggle.

For Stephanie, her storyline is plunging into struggle after struggle after struggle. Andy and I, as her parents, aren't stopping the struggles.

It's not an easy gig.

If we only look at the slice of a story that is the struggle, we wouldn't like the story very much. Strong stories have struggles not because readers like a struggle, but because we like it when characters overcome a struggle. The more dire the struggle, the better the story. 

Sometimes we're not sure a character is going to overcome the struggle, but we don't quit reading. We keep going. We press on. We trust that good is going to overcome the struggle.

The same is true in life. If we take just a slice, there is often cause for alarm. It is cause for alarm if we just look at Stephanie's current storyline. The thing about life is we don't quit when it gets hard. We keep going. We press on. We trust that good is going to overcome the struggle.

And so I celebrate that I get to be a momma to these kids. 

The ones who struggle. 

The ones who fail. 

The ones who have been scraped by the ugly of the world. 

They are the ones who fight the good fight and write an impossibly beautiful ending. 

I celebrate that I get to be along for the ride.

Here's to celebrating, even when it's hard. Share your links below.

Hug 'Em {CELEBRATE This Week: 158}

I'm glad you are here to celebrate! 

Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link. 

Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.

*****

There was a time in life when I was sure I wasn't going to be a momma. Wanting to be a mom, but thinking you'll never get the chance, isn't very much fun. In fact, it was hands down harder than anything I've faced since being a mom.

As a momma to three kids who come from hard histories, this isn't something I say lightly. In fact, I've really mulled over whether I believe it to be true.

It is.

I also believe since I thought I wouldn't be a momma, and now have the privilege of motherhood, it makes it easier to accept this rocky parenting path. Parenting is never easy. Parenting children who know whole hard histories before you is complicated.

So tonight, I celebrate this:

I have kids to hug.

So even though I don't really know what I'm doing in the whole parenting department, I do know one thing. You can't mess up a hug. When the words aren't right...when things are falling apart...when the consequences are too much...I can offer a hug to my kids.

I have kids to hug. 

And will hug each of them tomorrow.

This is my celebration.

Hug 'Em {CELEBRATE This Week: 158}

I'm glad you are here to celebrate! 

Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link. 

Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.

*****

There was a time in life when I was sure I wasn't going to be a momma. Wanting to be a mom, but thinking you'll never get the chance, isn't very much fun. In fact, it was hands down harder than anything I've faced since being a mom.

As a momma to three kids who come from hard histories, this isn't something I say lightly. In fact, I've really mulled over whether I believe it to be true.

It is.

I also believe since I thought I wouldn't be a momma, and now have the privilege of motherhood, it makes it easier to accept this rocky parenting path. Parenting is never easy. Parenting children who know whole hard histories before you is complicated.

So tonight, I celebrate this:

I have kids to hug.

So even though I don't really know what I'm doing in the whole parenting department, I do know one thing. You can't mess up a hug. When the words aren't right...when things are falling apart...when the consequences are too much...I can offer a hug to my kids.

I have kids to hug. 

And will hug each of them tomorrow.

This is my celebration.

Learning to Treasure {CELEBRATE This Week: 138}

 

I'm glad you are here to celebrate! 

Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link. 

Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.

*****

I don't know what to celebrate. I've started this post three times. That's not like me. I started to write about Hannah and high school next year. I deleted the 73 words and decided it's not time to think about that yet.

I started to write about the grey skies that are still wrapping around us. I deleted the 19 words and decided I don't have the grit in my soul to write the grey with joy.

I began a list.

1. Hannah won a county-wide writing contest. 
2. Sam finished reading Bird.
3. Andy promised me dinner out with some friends.

I decided this wasn't fair either. There is a wisp of a celebration right in front of my nose and I'm having a hard time weaving it into something real.

This happens sometimes. We are distracted and the celebrations wave from a distance. We are grey and the celebrations sleep. We are tired and the celebrations slip through our fingers.

Instead of hurrying-up, I'm choosing to slow down. I'm going to linger.

Treasure.

Treasure.

Treasure.

It's my word of the year, and I'm not sure I'm living it. Google defines treasure as a quantity of valuable objects. Treasure is about abundance. If I'm choosing to live treasure, then I'm choosing to embrace an abundance of valuable moments. It's not only about digging one celebration out of the mire, but about claiming another celebration and another and another.

If I live treasure, then I collect an abundance of celebrations. 

My kids are growing up. We are ready to flip the page on this school year, and they will be headed into 9th grade, 7th grade, 6th grade, and 5th grade. They are working their ways out of childhood and into adolescence. Time is marching. 

I want to treasure these moments just like I've treasured the moments that have gone before. Parenting takes endurance. It is through finding an abundance of celebrations that I will learn to live treasure.

So here's to finding one moment then another and gripping them, then looking closely enough to find all of the other glimmers of grace and raw beauty and unexpected joy. This is how I will learn to treasure the rocky year we are living.

I can't wait to read your celebrations. You give me abundance and it fuels me!

An InLinkz Link-up

Soul Restoration {CELEBRATE This Week: 133}

 

I'm glad you are here to celebrate! Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link. Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.

******

*****

If you follow me on Instagram, you saw this picture earlier in the week. It was accompanied by the following conversation.

Mom: What's the book club assignment?
Sam: Everyone brings their own book.
Mom: The we decide as a group?
Sam: No. Then everyone reads their own books all snuggled under a blanket. Then the last few minutes we share...and eat cookies. You bring the cookies.
Mom: Then we swap books?
Sam: I don't think you understand. Book club is for people who like reading. We don't need to tell each other what to read. We all have piles of books. It's just time to read together and talk about your book. Get it?
Mom: Got it.
Same: Good. I would hate to make someone not want to read because they have to read something they didn't pick. There's enough of that in school.

(Sometimes the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.)

Sam decided Tuesday evening was book club. I had so much to do. "I'm not sure right now is a good time," I said.

"You signed up," he replied. "Get your book and meet me on the couch."

I sighed and looked at the sink full of soapy bubbles. One popped and another and another. It seemed frivolous to read in the early evening. I had so much to do.

"Mom! Are you coming? It's starting!"

I squeezed the dish rag and clenched my teeth. There's no reason to stress, I repeated the words in my mind, hoping I can believe them. I stretch out on the couch and Sam brings me a quilt. "Scoot over," he says.

I can't believe we still fit on the couch. He opens his book and begins reading. I'm enamored by him. He gave up video games for book club tonight. I almost forget that that I have so much to do.

"You need to read too, Mom," he said, giving me a sideways smile.

I kiss the top of his head and open my book. I turn pages and breathe in and out and tension leaves my muscles. I didn't know I was tense.

This simple action feels like a luxury. I am reading next to my son and it feels like he's just given me an extravagant gift.

Self-restoration doesn't have to be complicated. We simply say YES! in the middle of too much to do.

*****

An InLinkz Link-up

*****

Guys! I can't believe how quickly so many of you volunteered to help me out with my new ebook. I'm so excited about this project! It is become infinitely better because of your help. My email pals will get the ebook before anyone else, so if you haven't signed up for my newsletter, right now is a good time! The ebook will be ready next week.

***** 

This Sunday at 8:00 EST, Christy Rush-Levine and I will host the Teach and Celebrate Writers chat. I hope you will join us. Please note: lurking is acceptable. I'd encourage you to say hello at the beginning of the chat, but then feel free to just lurk. I'm always so blessed by #TandCwriters; I know you will be too.

It is Good {CELEBRATE This Week: 124}

 

I'm glad you are here to celebrate! Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link. Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.

******

I meant to only think it, but I said it aloud. It went a little like this, "I wish I would have figured it out sooner, that way there wouldn't have been a big blow up since it went so long unnoticed." 

Sam said, "It's not your fault, Mom. We each make our own choices and sometimes people make a poor choice. You can't stop other people's choices."

I bit my bottom lip and did a little thinking before I spoke. I want him to grow up responsible for his own choices. I don't ever want him to take responsibility for the choice another person makes.

We learn best from watching others. I wanted to argue with him, explain that I'm the parent and parents are supposed to help their kids make good choices. I wanted to explain to him that it's my responsibility to make sure everyone does the right thing.

It's a good thing I'm learning to control my tongue. I clamped my mouth shut so nothing could get out.

Hannah said, "I should have stopped it. I suspected it was going on. It's my fault."

There are moments when we see everything clearly. 

"No!" I said a little too boldly. "It is not any of your fault. The only person responsible is the person who made the choice."

"That means it's not your fault either, Mom," Sam hammered the point home.

"You're right," I relented and released myself from the guilt I was trying to claim.

I used to think one day I'd arrive at this point in life when I'd get everything right.

I wouldn't forget to put things in the mail.

I'd never hurt another person's feelings.

I'd always respond to email in a timely manner.

I wouldn't be offended.

I'd stop getting worked up about things.

The house would be clean.

The car would have gas.

The leftovers would make it to the fridge.

This wasn't the week when I reached the point of getting it all right.

More often than not it felt like I did it all wrong. I'm reminded that this is good.

It is good to be in the middle of  a mess. Faith deepens. Relationships strengthen.  Love swells. And I am molded into a better version of who I was created to be.

Today, I'm going to celebrate being in the middle of a mess, not knowing how to respond, learning to shake off guilt, and trusting, always trusting in the shield of faith.

An InLinkz Link-up

Messy Christmas {CELEBRATE This Week: 113}

I debated whether to link celebrations during these holiday weekends, but I decided we must claim celebrations on the ordinary days and the holidays. I hope you carve out a few moments to document your celebrations. Merry Christmas & next week we'll celebrate Happy New Year!

It's pretty at Christmas time (even without the snow), and I think some of the prettiest decorations are nativity scenes. This season, I've been struck how our portrayal of the Christmas story is a prettied-up version of what happened that night. It was not a picture-perfect holiday card.

Mary was a teen mom who just gave birth in a dank barn. Joseph was clueless about how to be a dad. The cows, they stomped. The dirt, it stirred. Mary and Joseph tried to figure out what to do next. There was stress, little rest, and a big mess.

They didn't try to pretty things up. Rather, they leaned into the mess and chose to believe God to be who He said He would be. For it is written, "And blessed is she who believed in the fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord."

Mary didn't need a camera filter to make the moment memorable. She didn't try to control this story line. Mary didn't manipulate, didn't run, didn't pretty things up. When everything was ugly she chose to believe God in the middle of the mess.

It's been a reminder for me this Christmas.

I post this family photo on social media and people like it and comment about our beautiful family. And I wonder if I'm a bit of a fraud. 

This picture was taken in the midst of hard. The parents -- Andy and me -- we were making some tough parenting decisions. And the kids -- they were battling grief and anger and selfishness. They were questioning if family is forever and if they really belong in this family. They were reaching out to birthmothers and grieving birthmothers and trying not to despise birthmothers...all while trying to accept unconditional love from a forever momma who doesn't look one bit like they thought their momma should look. Meanwhile the glue of love was tested with a push and pull that would make concrete crack.

Yet we are a beautiful family -- a beautiful mess of a family. We aren't so different from every family, even the holy family, who started in a dirty stable in the middle of a mess.  If you're looking for a reason to lean into the ugly this season, then let it be this. That baby, Jesus, He came to live next to the mess. He doesn't need things prettied up; He wants an act of radical trust.

In this favorite week leading up to Christmas, I could have given up on the hope that we are a beautiful family. Or I could have believed the lie that it's unfair to be a momma to kids who have experienced the ugliest this world has to offer. Or I could have allowed my joy to be stolen and my peace to perish.

Instead, I stood firmly in my belief that God is good and He works things for the good of those who love him and are working according to his purposes. It isn't always easy to believe in the goodness of God. The middle of the mess makes it easy to believe the ugly of things.

It's a battle I'm willing to fight, because ultimately I know, the messier my story, the more I can give God the glory.

This is my celebration -- I have a messy story that every now and then lives up to the pretty pictures. Today was one of those days. It was the best day ever for our little forever family. The. Best. Day. Ever. I can think of no better day, than the day we celebrate the Savior who saves us from the ugly, to claim as the best day ever.

Merry Christmas!

An InLinkz Link-up

How FUN Changed Me {CELEBRATE This Week: 110}

I'm glad you are here to celebrate! Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link. Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.

******

In 2014, Andy chose the word FUN for his One Little Word. When 2015 rolled around and it was time to choose a new OLW, Andy decided to stick with FUN. (He might have mentioned that in order to live his word with integrity, he would have to keep it for another year since it wasn't fun to choose a OLW. He's a real funNY guy.)

Like many of Andy's decisions, it seemed silly at first, but it turned into something powerful.

FUN matters.

I'm naturally a lighthearted person. Then we adopted older children and I went from being a momma to one toddler to a momma of three, ages 2, 4, and 6. Many of you remember this because you've been a long time reader.

It was a tough adjustment and a dark time.

I remember standing at my kitchen window, watching them play on the swing set, and thinking, I should smile right now.

The pressure to figure out what our new daughters needed and to get it right squelched my light heart. They were scared and sad and angry and hopeful and the extreme emotions smothered my laughter.

The more I tried to get everything under control, the less I laughed.

Life isn't supposed to go like this. I'd tell myself that. Life isn't supposed to go like this. Yet, that's how it was going.

And then, standing at the kitchen window, telling myself to smile, I realized something that snapped me right out of darkness and turned me toward light.

God never intended for me to be unhappy.

The fog lifted and I smiled. Little did I know it was the start of my own healing process.

It turns out fun heals.

I think it's because fun has little to do with perfection. Often, the bigger the mess, the more potential there is for fun. Kids make messes. So do adults. It's part of life.

I was taking everything so seriously. I had a plan to survive each day. And somehow I started believing in the plan more than I did in the One who designed our family. I trusted the plan more than I trusted the goodness of God.

The first thing fun does is ditches seriousness. I didn't miss it.

When I wasn't so serious the laughter wasn't corralled. It was free to roam. The sound surprised me. Imagine, surprised by my own laughter. It was at the dinner table and Stephanie decided she should sing the National Anthem before grace. So she stood on her chair, placed her hand on her heart and belted out, "Oh they say you can flee by the dog's flashliiiiiiiiiiiiight..."

I laughed. The day before I wasn't laughing when she was signing the same song at nap time. I was serious then. I gave her my serious look and a serious talk and a serious "get-back-in-bed-now." I was so serious I didn't hear the words.

She stopped. Stephanie never stopped doing what she wanted to do. Andy chuckled, too.

"What?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

I laughed again. I liked the way it sounded. "Those aren't the words," I said.

"Yes! They! Are!" She stomped as she said each word.

I laughed again.

She stared.

Then sat down.

Took our hands for grace.

Closed her eyes and bowed her head.

Andy lifted an eyebrow. I giggled.

I'm learning the more fun I'm having, the better momma I am.

I think it is a lesson that will serve me well as we move into our adolescent years...

I'm looking forward to your celebrations. Share them below!

An InLinkz Link-up

My offerings to encourage writers (and their teachers), because I'm smitten by the way writers work...

{Discover. Play. Build.} Website. It's designed to be my offering to writing teachers. 

You'll find video minilessons and a link to the {Discover. Play. Build.} YouTube Channel where they are all housed.

{Discover. Play. Build.} Newsletter. They come each month. Register in the sidebar.

( For more information on these resources (and others), check out this post.)

Teach & Celebrate Writers (#TandCwriters) Twitter Chat -- Sunday, December 6 at 8:00 pm EST; Importance of Audience

 ***** 

Places you can find me celebrating throughout the week:
Instagram:  @ruth_ayres

Twitter: @ruth_ayres

Facebook: {Discover. Play. Build.}

Let Them Be Little: CELEBRATE This Week {104}

I'm glad you are here to celebrate! Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link. Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.

******

My kids had fall break this week, and they lived it up at my parents' house. I love this. They get to stomp around in the same woods I stomped around in. They slip and get wet shoes in the same creek I slipped and got wet shoes in. They lose the day to the woods, just like my brother and I did.

They built a teepee. I never built a teepee. They imagined a forest full of panthers and they tamed them with tuna and sardines (of course). Those panthers weren't there when I was a little girl. 

 

They were happy, and closer too. This is the magic of the woods. It's been doing it for centuries. Somehow, spending time among the trees, with sunbeams dancing and imaginations running, hearts incline toward one another and love expands.  

It's not just the woods, though. It's adults allowing play to happen. There's no pressure at Mimi and Papa's house. Who you are is absolute perfection. When you are free to be yourself, then you're more open to magic.

My kids were touched by magic and love in the woods, and I was reminded that my childhood was full of these things. Magic and love. Magic and love that come from being sure of yourself.

Now I get to be the one who wields the wand. It begins with removing the pressure to be someone and allowing who you are to be absolute perfection. 

Today's a great day to love being you.

I'm happy you are celebrating today! Share your link below.

My offerings to encourage writers (and their teachers), because I'm smitten by the way writers work...

{Discover. Play. Build.} Website. It's designed to be my offering to writing teachers. 

You'll find video minilessons and a link to the {Discover. Play. Build.} YouTube Channel where they are all housed.

{Discover. Play. Build.} Newsletter. They come each month. Register in the sidebar. 

( For more information on these resources (and others), check out this post.)

 ***** 

Places you can find me celebrating throughout the week:
Instagram:  @ruth_ayres

Twitter: @ruth_ayres

An InLinkz Link-up

The Best is Celebration: CELEBRATE This Week {102}

I'm glad you are here to celebrate! Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link. Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you. 

*****

I love having a teenage daughter. My favorite season of parenthood yet. This girl is so much fun.

These words on Instagram, posted by one of my favorite writers and speakers, could have been my undoing. 

I could have thought, rather sarcastically, That must be nice for you.

I could have thought, rather practically, Just wait a week or a day or an hour.

I could have thought, rather callously, Maybe it's because your daughter hasn't looked trauma in its ugly eyes and is fighting to wholly heal.

The truth about things that could be our undoing is they don't have to be.

I will not allow a post or update or pretty picture to make me feel inferior.

I will not give space for self-pity to take root because of comparison.

I will not succumb to thinking anything less than the best of people.

I reread the caption, My favorite season of parenthood yet, and I was reminded of a young momma who was completely captivated by her blue-eyed toddler. I was younger then, before I was scraped by the ugly of the world, and I was enamored by how quickly my little boy changed. I missed the late night bottles in the wooden rocking chair, but I loved that he danced in the kitchen while I cooked dinner. I missed pureeing the baby food, but I loved that he took the last sip of my tea each morning.

I realized parenting was always going to be about missing something and loving something new. The seasons change. I decided then, as a young momma -- before I knew the way trauma changes a child and before I knew I had two daughters and another son out there facing the ugly this world offers, waiting to someday let me be their momma too -- I decided I would always allow my favorite season of parenthood to be the current season.

The Instagram post stung not because I'm an inferior momma, but  because it revealed that I'm not keeping up my end of the deal. I'm not letting right now be my favorite season of parenthood.

Today I claim the territory of being a momma to a brand new fourteen year old (happy birthday, Hannah!) as my favorite time to be Hannah's momma. Today I celebrate a few of the things I love about having a teenage daughter.

• She paints her nails and talks to me about nothing and everything while she does it.
• She helps clean the house, and it is usually better than what I do myself.
• She laughs at my quirky jokes.
• She does her own homework and helps her siblings with their homework.
• She stays up a little too late reading.
• She still snuggles on the couch under a quilt during a movie.
• She likes to share clothes with me.
• She asks me to pray for her.
• She reads scripture and likes to talk about it.
• She's curious.
• She's grateful for family.
• She loves me back. 

I was too close to missing this updated perspective because I almost let something I saw on social media be my undoing. In a world that demands people to jockey for attention, I will pause before reacting

And in this pause, I will sort through thoughts and feelings and perceptions until I find the best in others and the best in myself.

This is celebration.

Thanks for joining the celebration. Link up below and then invite a friend to join too.