Things and Stuff

Things. I like things. I like nice things. I like new things. I even like expensive things. I like having things. I want more things. It's the American way and I am an American. When I get things, then I want other things to go with my things. I need to accessorize my things.

Stuff. Just gotta have it. I gotta have more stuff and then when new stuff comes out, I want to upgrade my old stuff. My basement is filled with stuff I used to love but now has been replaced by nicer and newer stuff. My closets are full of stuff that I use on occasion but mostly, it's just stuff to stuff the closets with.

Things and stuff.

All of the above is true of me. I'm no martyr or saint that has taken a vow of poverty. I own more than a few pairs of shoes, a few coats and though my wardrobe pales in comparrison to most others, I still have more clothes than I need. Though my home is sparsley decorated, I still have many things on the walls and sitting around -- things that have sentiment or things that just add interest or color to a room. Though I don't have everything I want, I have so much more than I need. So why do we continue to want more things and more stuff? I don't get it.

For the past 5 years or so I've been bothered by Christmas. Nowhere does the bible tell us or even give us an example of celebrating Christ's birth. I'm not saying that we shouldn't but I am bothered on how much time, engergy and money is spent on Christmas --but how much of that time, engergy and money is just wasted? I don't have any answers but often times, as I'm stuffing myself full of Christmas ham or opening yet another present, I think about all the people that are hungry and have no clothing or home. I think about the reason Christ was born and I wonder if all we spend on the celebration is counter to the reason why he came.

Tis the season for giving - -Tis the season for joy. As Christians, do we need a season to be charitable? Love, JOY, peace . . . . . does it come just once a year?

'I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.' Matthew 25:45

My Blessings Keep Flowing

One Sunday when I was too sick to go to church -- and by "sick" I mean so completely overcome with depression that I could not even find strength to remove my body from bed. That Sunday, Jerry asked our Sunday School class to pray for me. Later that week, I received a note from a lady, whom I did not know by name, and she was trying to encourage me.

I wasn't encouraged. I did not want to hear her words. I didn't care what SHE might have experienced in HER life because this was MY life and NO ONE could possibly understand what I was going through.

That was my attitude. So I ignored the card.

The first few days after Amanda and Monica went to school I was a mess. I could barely function and what little I forced myself to do was not only a huge effort, I was annoyed that it had to be done - -like --showering! My husband and son tried to encourage me. Zachary tried to be funny and kind and caring. Jerry kept telling me he understood my heart but how does a man understand the heart of a mother? He kept telling me he was sad too but did his life come to a halt? Did he want to live out the rest of his life underneath the covers on our bed? DID HE EVER CARRY A CHILD IN HIS WOMB FOR NINE MONTHS? Yeah see, us Mom's always try to trump a father's heart with that one.

I tried to tell myself I was carrying on much too much and much too far and yet; it's all my heart would feel. I couldn't stop the pain. I couldn't stop the depression. I couldn't stop the uselessness my heart felt.

And then each day got a little better. I never stopped missing the girls and I never stopped hurting, but I at least got back to functioning and taking ever so slight steps towards letting go. When the dark cloud of depression finally lifted, I was seeing more clearly and then I remembered the card.

I went back to the card I had received in the mail and read it again and this time, it was such a blessing. I read it as if for the first time and my heart was instantly comforted knowing another mother's heart felt the same thing. As hard as my guys tried to console me and as much as I did appreciate it, it wasn't the same as another mother that had lived through the same thing.

So I set out to find this angel that God sent me -- a woman who was living out Titus 2 when Paul instructs Titus, "Likewise, teach the older women to be reverent in the way they live, not to be slanderers or addicted to much wine, but to teach what is good. Then they can train the younger women to love their husbands and children . . . "

This was a lesson I was learning in loving my children. I had to learn to love them at a whole different level - -to mix my love with respect of their adult status, to love them enough to let them go, to love them enough to trust them to live their own lives. This was a new love, a different love and by example and compassion, this woman came into my life and helped me see my way through it.

I took my card to bible study one Saturday and asked the other ladies if they could please point this woman out to me. The next day at church, I finally found out who my angel was. That evening, I went up to her and thanked her for her card and her encouragement.

The week after Thanksgiving, she came up to me and said how happy she was to see my girls were home for the holiday. I was so touched she remembered and rejoiced with and for me. I felt a moment of being kindred with her and it felt like it was my final lesson in my learning to let go.

Tonight after choir practice, I got to talk to her again. When I explained to her all the blessings I'm now finding in this new freedom with the girls gone; more time with my son, rediscovering my husband, a quiet peaceful home, time to do things I enjoy - she instantly understood me and in fact, on several occasions, we were able to finish each others' sentence. I stood amazed as if in a peculiar way, I was talking to myself. That’s just how completely she understood me.

And so in my quest to open my heart and my eyes for all those blessings the Lord sends my way, I am ever so thankful for my angel, Sonda.

More Blessings

Every week I'm more in love with our church and more excited to be there. Saturday we had a Christmas dinner and ornament exchange, though there were very few ornaments and seemingly more stuffed snowmen than stuffed turkeys on Thanksgiving!

So my blessings this week were:

Everyone at my table for the Christmas dinner but especially Bruce and Kay and Alycia. These three people have gone out of their way to make us feel welcome and a part of Vandalia Baptist Temple. I'm so thankful for them.

All of the sweet children that lent their voices to our children's Christmas program - --out of the mouths of babes!

Twilla, who captured my heart weeks ago in ladies Bible study but also on Sunday when she was such an encourager to me.

My sister Sam continues to be my rainbow - -and kitchen supplier! :)

Blessings

I think if we open our hearts, we'll find blessings in the most unusual places. That has been my quest and though I don't know the names of each of these people and the situations might be "you had to be there" type things, I want to list the things that bless my heart. I hope to never be so busy with "things" that I miss these precious moments:


Gina singing with her parents. I hope she cherishes those moments in her life.

Gilah agreeing to come to my church's Christmas Cantata (she's Jewish).

Dave playing with his cars and "going to pick up Miss Lissa".

My new/used refrigerator.

My sister Sam being my rainbow.

The Sopranos in my church choir.

Every day I find new blessings and people that unknowingly touch my heart in the simplest of ways. I don't ever want to miss them.

Driving Lessons

I think one of the important elements of parenting is to know your strengths and weaknesses. For instance, when it came time to teach the children to ride their bike without training wheels, I definitively knew this was Jerry's thing. A considerable intolerance for being outside and a lack of patience made me the most unlikely candidate for such a task. Besides, I always made the kids wear a helmet, knee and elbow pads. They would complain they couldn't peddle with the knee pads on to which I would reply, "Be quiet before I mummy wrap you in bubble wrap too." Jerry could handle seeing the kids spilled and splattered onto the pavement -- I preferred not seeing them until they could stay on the bike, break and dismount without shedding one drop of blood. Fast-forward now to the teenage years and it being time to teach your oldest to drive. I guess technically it's an outdoor activity but since I can still sit in the comfort of air conditioning or heat, I didn't mind taking on the challenge. I very vividly remember sitting in that blue Impala driving around the Randhurst parking lot with my Mom -- good times -- those were the days! I can make the same lasting memories with my kids --.

For the past year I've been Amanda's primary driving instructor. If I've learned anything from this experience it has been -- Jerry will have to be Monica and Zach's primary driving instructor. I will develop a serious heart condition if I have to go through this experience again. Amanda gets all flustered with me and she often whines, "Don't yell at me while I'm driving." It's not that I yell as a disciplinary action and I think my yelling is warranted. You know, when you see an ambulance coming head on and your driving daughter oblivious to its existence, I don't think yelling, "STOP! GET OVER! AMBULUANCE HEAD ON!" is unreasonable. I also don't think it unreasonable to yell after that same driving daughter nonchalantly tells you, "What? I didn't see it." So yelling, "HOW COULD YOU NOT SEE OR HEAR AN AMBULUANCE FLASHING IT’S LIGHTS, COMING HEAD ON AND EVERY OTHER CAR ON THE ROAD PULLED OVER?" Hey, who says Lamaze is just for childbirth? Those breathing exercises come in handy when you feel like shaking sense into your child. Like I said earlier, patience is not my virtue.

Wanting to finish the job I started, I realized the only thing we've not yet done in Amanda's driving lessons was highway driving. To give Amanda credit, she really is a good driver. The mistakes she makes are just part of the learning process. The problem is me, mostly.

Sunday afternoon we were just all kind of hanging out so I decided to take Amanda out for a drive. Monica came with us as my intent was just to drive around town and perhaps stop for ice cream along the way. OK, I confess -- my intent was to get ice cream under the premise of taking Amanda out to drive. There, I said it! I'm so ashamed. We were driving around town only to find our little Ice Cream spot was closed. I decided we'd just drive around some more. When I saw we were approaching the on ramp to I-70, I decided it was time for some interstate experience. After all, Amanda has been driving for over a year now. It can't be avoided forever! In retrospect, I guess it would have been better for Amanda had we planned this and not just spring it on her. She didn't have time to emotionally prepare but that's what I thought was good! She didn't have time to worry about it -- and we all know what a worry wart she can be!

I instruct Amanda to get into the turning lane and she says, "There? Turn left? Going on the highway? There? Mom?" I sensed she was nervous so I acted like it was no big deal, "Sure. You're ready. Let's try it." We circled around the on ramp and as we approach the highway I'm now more nervous than she. What was I thinking? Is she really ready for this? I have Monica in the back seat for goodness sakes! Where is my clarity of mind? Amanda was very hesitant to merge into traffic so she was going quite slowly. I was in the passenger seat looking over my shoulder at this truck coming our way and the left lane blocked so he couldn't get over and I repeated, "Speed up, speed up, Amanda -- speed up.....! In the outside mirror I can see another van on our tail anxious to speed up for his own merge into traffic but not able to do so with Amanda in the way. My eyes are darting between the truck, road ahead, the van behind us and Amanda. In those split seconds I realize if I instruct her to break, we’re getting rear-ended by the van. If she doesn’t speed up, we’re getting run over by the truck. If we hit the guard rail, we’re getting smashed in by both. There is no shoulder to escape to. We are now sandwiched between a speeding truck, van and the guard rail. "Amanda, speed up. Don't be afraid. Speed up! SPEED UP! AMANDA!" She kept creeping along and finally I yelled, "FLOOR IT!" The next thing I knew my head was pinned against the head rest and out of the corner of my eye I could see Amanda's hands tightly gripping the wheel at the perfect 3 o'clock and 9 o'clock positions to the point her knuckles were bright white. We merged just ahead of the truck when, finding an opening in the left lane, the truck gets over and passes us. As my heart begins to slow down to a normal pace, I realize my right foot is pinned to the floor of the van in my attempt to make the ghost accelerator peddle on my side speed up the van. I relax my tightened muscles, take a deep breath and look over at Amanda. Her eyes were wide and intent on the road and her body was so stiff she looked like a statue. I don't think she was breathing so I said, "Relax Amanda. Take a deep breath. You did fine." I see her chest rise and fall as she takes in some air for the first time in several minutes (which is what it seemed like) and the color returns to her face. I look back at Monica who seemed to have taken the whole thing in stride -- her feathers never seem to get ruffled, so I thought.

Silence the rest of the way home.

Pulling into the driveway of 1019 Lofton Drive was never so comforting. As I get out of the van Monica approaches me from behind and in a very soft whisper she says to me, "Sissy almost killed us!"

Sissy did no such thing. Her mother, however, put two children and herself into a path of danger. Amanda didn’t speak a word about it.

Later that night while relaxing and playing cards, Amanda blurts out of no where, “Man, you just don’t realize how fast those cars are coming on the highway until you get behind the wheel.” We all broke into some nervous laughter and I felt a surge of relief, regret and pride.

It’s confirmed.

Jerry takes the helm with Monica and Zach’s driving lessons.

The Memory of My Mom

When you become a parent, you can't help but look for yourself or your spouse in their tiny faces. As soon as a child is born, the parents immediately try to decipher who the child most resembles. If there are other siblings, you compare their features and look for that family resemblance. I see more of a resemblance in my children when I look back at their pictures from years ago. It's amazing how much one can look like the other. One time my brother-in-law was looking at some old pictures and said, "Amanda looks like Zach with hair!" I do see an awful lot of Newsome in Amanda and Zach. Amanda shares a very strong likeness with her Newsome cousin Hope. Monica is more Dodge -- her dark skin and curly hair is distracting to my likeness but if you look beyond those things, you'll see how much of me there is in her. But no matter what the strong resemblance seems to be, I see both sides of the family in each child. I especially like when they make an expression and it eerily looks just like an aunt or cousin of theirs. Genetics amazes me - creation amazes me. The Creator amazes me!

My mother died in 1989 so my children never knew her. It's been so long now and sometimes I'm sad how much my memory of her has slipped my mind. I mean, of course I remember her but sometimes I strain to hear the sound of her voice and I can't hear it, can't remember it. It seems the harder I try, the further the memory gets away from me. Memories mostly sneak up on me -- a scent or a sound will suddenly take me back to a moment in time when I was with my Mom -- sometimes it makes me happy or laugh but mostly, it makes me sad to miss her so much -- to still need her so much. Memories of Mom are private to me and I never really have discovered why. I can only talk to my kids and my sisters about my Mom -- talking about her to anyone else seems so invasive on my personal life. I can't explain it - -I don't know it -- I just feel it.

I don’t often see my Mom in my kids --although every now and then I'll catch a glimpse of Mom in Monica's expression -- but it's really a rare thing. I always look for those things, inherited traits, in their physical features but one day something about my Mom surfaced and completely and totally knocked me off my feet. One day, just an ordinary day doing the things we do -- I was in the kitchen and Monica was sitting at the counter. In the course of the conversation Monica started laughing and at that point, my back was turned to her. At the sound of her laughter, chills ran down my spine, tears welled up in my eyes and I felt like I had frozen in place and if I moved, I would just break into pieces. The most extraordinary sound reached my ears and threw me for a loop -- the sound of Monica's laughter was EXACTLY like my mother's. It wasn't as if I heard something similar to Mom. No, it was as if I was hearing my Mom. It was so real to me I felt if I turned around, there my mother would be but I knew that wasn't possible.

And yet, she was.

Mom is gone but in me and Amanda, Monica, Zachary and all of her descendents, she lives on.

Her smile beams on Courtney's face. Her laughter resonates in Monica's voice. Her compassion lives in Brittany's heart. Her art transforms through Sam's hands. Her music sings in Jeremy's soul. Her beauty radiates on Shelby's face. Her creativity runs through Emily's being. Her faithfulness is grounded in the essence of Amanda . Her tenderness is wrapped around Spencer's heart. Her eyes are seen where Zachary's lay. Her dedication serves at the hands of Val. Her liveliness jumps in the spirit of Sophie.

Her love drives us all.

In the simple ways we live our lives, we capture Mom. Just when a memory seems too faded to recall, it finds its way back to my heart through a smile or laughter or gesture in one of us.

I think Zach summed it up quite nicely one day when he said, "I think of Aubela as being the best of you, Aunt Val and Sassy all rolled into one."

The memory of my Mom is alive in all of us. I can hear her and touch her and see her. Our children know her because they know us. I will never forget her. I will never stop missing her but I will always be with her when I am with one of us.

Monica

One of the joys and challenges in parenting three children is the uniqueness each brings to the family. I loved discovering all of the likes and dislikes of each of my newborn babies. As those babies grew, it was my joy to walk along side them in the activities and interests they each pursued. I think I know each of my children better than anyone knows them and maybe even a little better than they know themselves. I've been so attentive to who they are and who they were becoming their whole lives and all of that is emblazed in my mind. Though I do admit, as they approach their adult years, I find myself knowing less about their personal style but when it comes to the core of their personalities, I pretty much have that pegged.

Or so I thought.

Monica has always been our strong and brave child. As a young toddler, in the middle of the night she'd venture out into the darkness of our home in search of a cookie or a favorite toy. She was the only one of the three that didn't seek the comfort of Mom and Dad's bed during a storm or after a bad dream. She was such a sweet and adoring child and yet, had this rough exterior that kept most people at bay. In that oxymoron way Monica operates, she was a very loving child and very affectionate -- and yet, she kept the deepest places of heart locked up and guarded. It was a rare occasion even to see her cry.

I was less emotional taking this child off to college as I was the first because SHE was less emotional about going. In her usual way, she portrayed an armor of strength which made me feel more at ease. That's not to say, however; that I wasn't sad about her leaving. Monica has always been my partner --where I am, she is. Where I go, she goes. What I do, she does. I knew I was going to miss her presence tremendously but I worried less about her dealing with it.

The day we took Monica to Kent I woke up a bit confident with a sort of "been there, done that" attitude in my heart. Eh, we already took one daughter off to college - -this is a piece of cake! We felt more prepared in what she needed to bring and how to accomplish moving her into a 7th floor dorm room. We loaded up and we were off.

The move-in was much of what's to be expected and quite uneventful. As the day moved along though, my heart grew heavier in anticipation of that final good bye. When that time came, Monica walked us out to our van. She said good-bye to her Dad and he got into the van. She and I stood in front of our van for a long time. She would not leave. She got back into the van and said she was going back home with us. Every time I tried to say goodbye she would simply say, "No." I had to get out and pull her from our van. Again we stood there in silence and her eyes could not conceal the truth that she herself had no strength to build walls of an unwelcoming nature. Like a river, her every emotion, untainted and true, flowed freely from her expressions. It broke my heart.

As I stood there in the parking lot, it occurred to me I was receiving a very special gift. Monica, for the first time ever to me and probably the first time ever to anyone, was fully exposing her heart. As her guard was let down and all those fortresses crumbled, her heart seemed so raw to me. There she was so vulnerable and pure and I knew that I wanted to not only cherish the moment and linger it in but also to protect her and accept this honor of her fully trusting me with her soul.

And yet . . .

In those moments a mothering instinct kicked in that was far beyond me. I found myself reacting contrary to what I would have expected. There was no part of me that wanted to bring Monica back home. I wanted her to fly. I knew it was time. It was sad for me, no doubt, but it also just felt right. It took some lingering and convincing but Monica finally walked away from the van. As she headed towards her dorm I called out to her, "Flap your wings!"

I got back into the van and Jerry backed out of our parking space and we could see Monica walking away. He stopped the van and then in complete silence we just sat there watching her get further and further away - -until she disappeared back into the dorm. Jerry then slowly pulled away.

Driving away I suddenly remembered how much my children hated shots when they were younger and Monica! That child would throw an absolute fit. It usually took one nurse to hold her arms, me to hold her legs and another nurse to administer the injection. I hated doing that to her and I especially hated how pitiful she looked to me as if to say, "Mommy, why are you doing this to me?" But I knew I was doing what was good for her and though it was difficult to do at the time, it was a long lasting benefit to her health. I didn't like or enjoy it, but I did it because I loved her.

Leaving her at Kent felt somewhat like that -- having her to endure pain for a little while to reap long lasting benefits.

Its 2 months later now and mere words could not do justice to explain how much I miss Monica but in the silence of the dark nights, I hear the soft flutter of flapping wings.

And we're okay.

Random Ramblings

Monica went to Florida with Winterguard and she got her ear (cartilage) pierced and I don't have much to say about that -- I don't have a long post about elephants or eagles because I learned that hard lesson when Amanda spread her 18 year old wings and besides, when Monica sent me the pic of her ear I sighed and thought, "Whew, it's not a tattoo."

Zach had an awesome basketball season and I really should give him props with an entire posting just for him but -- maybe I'll work on that later. He's now playing AAU basketball and today is his first tournament. I think the extra playing experience will be good for him for his Varsity year next year.

Monica got accepted to Kent State so April 14th we're headed up there to register her for fall classes and yes -- I guess that deserves a whole posting of itself too but well -- I'm losing my blogging touch, aren't I? I don't like to think of Monica being old enough for college so I just pretend it's not happening. When the reality of it all hits, the day I'm driving away from Kent having dropped her off, I'll probably have a long story to write about that. It's funny -- when I showed Jerry the picture of Monica's pierced ear he paused and said, "I don't think we should let her go all the way to Kent State."

My grandmother is going to be 90 in October and that has nothing to do with anything and October is pretty far away so yeah -- the title of this post is "Random Ramblings" and that was pretty random, wasn't it? But I think about her all of the time.

I started ride-sharing with a lady that lives in my area and works out by me too. I found her through a website that connects would-be commuters. Now I can't say I'm loving it -- because it does limit my freedom and take more time -- but it's saving money and miles on my van and I feel like I'm being a little more responsible toward the environment so -- I'm sticking with it, I guess. Notice the lack of enthusiasm? RSL (Ride Share Lady) is very nice and we have great conversations. She's a Christian so we have a lot of common ground. I love how God puts people in my life like that. I've been doing all of the driving but next week she's going to drive.

So that all the random ramblings I have for now. I was kind of just killing time while I waited for a load of clothes to dry so . . . I think they're ready now.

To My Teenagers

I do not want to be your best friend. I am your mother, the position of authority remains with me. I don't care how much you might tower over me, size or height does not equate authority. The transfer of authority from me to you will happen the first time you have to change my Depends.

The last thing I want to be in your eyes is a hypocrite so I will try not to tell you, "Do as I say, not as I do." I want to set a good example for you but be patient, I am imperfect.

"Because I said so!” now that's a cliché I might sometimes use. I will try my best to always give you an explanation but sometimes your behavior or attitude doesn't warrant me to explain myself and other times, I simply do not have the time to go into it.

Not having time for your needs does not mean they are not important to me. There is one of me against 4 other family members. Please understand and do not feel slighted when I have to take care of someone else before you.

I am not your maid, cook or chauffeur so please do not treat me as such. This is not Burger King so you can't always "have it your way". I expect you to pick up after yourself and do your part as a member of this family to keep our home safe, clean and happy.

The day you were born in blazed in my memory forever. It was the perfect culmination of God's creation in which he used two broken vessels such as myself and your father and created you and the greatest miracle of all, entrusted your life to us. I will never forget the day of your birth and because it brings me such immeasurable joy, I will tell you about it over and over again. Please do not ask me to stop doing so.

I realize you're almost an adult and you have a full grown adult sized body but when I look deep into your eyes or beyond your sassy smile, I can still see that precious baby I once held in my arms and nestled into my neck. I can't help it, no matter how old you get to be, you'll always be my baby.

When you lie to me, you are hurting yourself more than anyone else. I know how difficult telling the truth may be but when you weave a web of deceit, it will crumble the foundation of your morale character that will destroy you. Also, I can't help you when I don't know the whole truth. Do not break my trust in you.

If you ever are in trouble, no matter how terrible the situation might seem, I can help you far better than your friends can. I have the maturity, experience and resources to help you find your way out, your friends do not. Come to me before you go to them.

I would rather you have one true friend than 50 superficial friends. Popularity only lasts 4 years of high school; true friends can last a life time.

The risk of STD's and pregnancy are real as are the harmful effects of drug and alcohol use. Those are important enough reasons to abstain from premarital sexual activity and drug or alcohol use but the real reason I want you to chose not to is simply; you have been created by God, in the image of God and for God. You are a masterpiece of your Creator. Respect your body as such and do not defile His creation with such foolish sin. It will harm your body and torment your soul.

When you lose a game or competition it's probably because you and your teammates made a mistake or the other team just played better, not because they cheated or the refs cheated. When you lose, do it with dignity and learn from it and become a better player/performer because of it.

Your teachers and coaches have your best interest in mind, I doubt they lie to me about your grades or behaviors so when you get in trouble at school, please don’t try to blame them. Accept responsibility for your actions. If you tell me someone has cheated you or an injustice has been served, I will fight for your honor and if it is later revealed you were not truthful, you leave both of us looking foolish but most importantly, you harm my credibility and then when a real injustice is done, my voice may not be heard.

The world is full of mean people. Never be one of them.

The world is full of kind people. Always strive to be one of them.

The purpose of dating is for two mature individuals to eventually find the life mate God has intended for them. High school age is not the time to start looking for that person. Exclusively dating one person leads to a false sense of belonging to each other, which leads to kissing, which can lead to other things too. In your young teen years, you do not have the maturity to control those things so just remove the temptation in your life all together. You may occasionally go on dates and to dances but you will not be permitted to exclusively date one person or have a girlfriend/boyfriend. Enjoy your high school years without all that drama and when the time comes that dating is proper for your age, proceed with prayer and caution.

I reserve the right to choose your friends. You may be friends with whomever you choose however; if I see their influence on you is decaying your moral character and causing you to make bad choices in your life, I will limit the time you spend with them or even demand you sever your ties with them. This is not negotiable no matter how upset or angry that makes you, my age and experience allows me to see far deeper than you are capable of.

I want you to have the freedom to express yourself in the way you dress, music choice and other areas of personal choice however; you may not cross the line in decency or morality. If you cross that line, I will intervene.

It is not possible for me to love one of my children more than the other and everything I do is with each child's best interest in mind. You will always be equally loved by me however; you will not always be equally treated by me. Each child has their own level of responsibility and maturity at different stages in their life. What one child might have done at age 15 another child might not be ready to do until 17. It is not unjust nor is it favoritism -- it is simply weighing each circumstance with the uniqueness of each child and acting accordingly.

Though the law says you can drive at age 16, we your parents say you can drive when we feel you have earned the privilege. That's right, EARNED. It is not your birth right to take our vehicle to the road while we pay for your insurance and gas. That is earned by you demonstrating responsibility, trust, maturity and obedience to other rules set forth. The most important factor in deciding when you are able to drive is your safety. We just aren't willing to risk that.

I do not want to pressure you to be the star player, get the Varsity letter, make honor roll, be or popular among your friends or anything else however; I do want you to push yourself to the limit and employ all the gifts and talents God has graced you with. I want you to put forth your best efforts because though your father and I will be extremely proud of you, the person you will please the most is yourself.

What might seem an act of meanness to you is my sincerest efforts in protecting you.

Every time I look at you I think to myself I love you to the fullest extent that my heart is able -- and then a new day dawns and I find myself loving you even more than I did before. God keeps growing my heart bigger and deeper and every day I fall more and more madly in love with you.

But no matter how much I love you, God loves you infinitely more. Learn to lean on Him before me because I am only your mother; he is your Creator, Sustainer, Savior, & Father. Therein lies your source of significance & life with a wellspring of grace, mercy and forgiveness.


Love, Mom