When your youngest turns ten…

Today my youngest turns 10. Double digits. I’m just awestruck by that.

It’s trite to say, “Where does the time go?” but that’s the feeling I have.

She was born on a Black Friday. I went into labor 4 hours after a big Thanksgiving Day feast. Four days before her due date and 4 hours after I drank Raspberry tea, which they say can send you into labor if you’re nearly due. The contractions came fast and did much work. She would have popped out quickly in about 45 minutes if I hadn’t had an Epidural which slowed it all down and also made it enjoyable…unlike the birth of my first child….pure agony. But that Epidural made me loopy too. For instance, I wanted my husband to get a tv & video comb for $35. It was Black Friday and we were missing it. I probably mentioned it 15 times. I thought I had plenty of time, and it was a bargain too good to pass up. He wouldn’t budge. I remember a baseball game on the hospital tv, but that would be impossible. November 29 is a few weeks after baseball season. Strange, isn’t it?

When she was born she seemed huge to me. The doctor held her up so that her arms were out in front. Her tiny arms and fists looked ready to do damage. Though she looked like bruiser, she wasn’t that big, just 8 lbs and 1oz. Also unlike my boy, I could always understand her cries. Different cries meant different things; understandable things. Sounds I would make if I couldn’t talk yet, but still knew what I wanted. She was communicative and rational, strange as that sounds–not prone to emit any indiscriminate screams.

I think back and remember being ten years old so clearly. I remember what my dad bought me for my birthday. A hair comb with feathers on it. All maroon. Woven cord held the feathers and wrapped around the plastic comb. I liked learning about Native Americans a lot in those days and he said he thought it seemed Indian like that, with the little feathers. We had just moved into a new home.  I found life hard and the growing friction between my parents suffocating. I remember my parents expecting a lot of me and often falling short. “You’re the oldest, you should know better,” was a common riff. I was a pessimist.

My daughter surprises me with her thoughtfulness and wisdom. I wasn’t really like her at ten. I didn’t have her empathy, forethought, or her raw intelligence. I didn’t have loads of friends calling for play dates on vacation days. I didn’t seek out the misfits and befriend them. I thought their weakness would rub off on me, and further poison my reputation. Ellie can see the big picture 8 times out of 10. I was in my 30s before I could do that with any consistency.

Childhood is fleeting. Infancy lasts (to me) about 6-9 months. Toddler stage until about 2 1/2 years old. Pre-school ages 3 and 4, and then at 5 they leave you for most of the day. They make friends you don’t know about, and experience things they never have enough time to tell you of. They move from being little children into typical children, and then so quickly to pre-adolensence. Something totally new and strange and complicated.

Soon adolescence will bear down on us fully (my son turns 13 in less than 4 months). Really, the first shots across the bow here powerfully here. The challenges heighten and the stakes feel higher. The stakes felt high when they were tiny too, but only because I felt anxious about being a parent and botching it up.

Now, I’m sure I’ll botch things up, but there are bigger threats than me out there for them. Their horizons are broadening. They have to make their own way as they rely on me less. It’s meant to be that way.

I’m not sure why life feels like I just got here and have to adjust all the time like a Rookie. I always feel like I’m making my way, at a new spot, and fumbling. Never really hitting a good stride for too long. I think if I die at an old age and in a fashion that’s slow where I can know it’s the end, I think I will be startled by the brevity of it all and the ever-strangeness of it. The foreignness. Like I never really got used to it. Like I never really fit into it quite right. Life still feels like a new pair of tight leather shoes.

Having a ten year old girl child is a lot to think about and I’m very pensive today.

Do you remember your 10th birthday?

P.S.

If you downloaded my digital books, which were all free on Cyber Monday, would you please take a minute or two to leave a review at Amazon? I’d really appreciate it!  (click Kindle Bookshelf top image) If you haven’t see them yet, just out the samples Amazon features.

How do We Consider Legacy?

Just asking the question, “What will be my legacy?” is really helpful. Not because is farsighted, but because it involves evaluating the small decisions at hand. Each one piles up what will be our legacy, whether personal or professional…

It seems too that all we can do won’t necessarily overshadow who we were as we did it.

It’s a question I challenge myself with to keep perspective, and one I’m afraid to encounter if I’ve been failing in my relationships. That’s all the more reason to get used to the question and ask it often. :)

I hope all the little good things will add up to a life well lived and well spent. But most importantly I hope they reflect Goodness and Grace.

 What do you think about it?

Today’s post was inspired by the Deeper Leader blog. If you’d like to share your answer, or read what others are saying, join in.

Your Burning Questions

sensitive noise / obvious 2Creative Commons License Milos Milosevic via Compfight

Today, I’m taking your questions…

About Life, about Creativity, about God, about work, about ministry, about you, about me…whatever.

Do you have any burning questions smoldering about anything?
What do you wonder about?

I’m not promising that I have all the answers and fixes. But, let’s see if we can help each other out today, somehow.

Guest Posting on Life, Jazz, God, and Donald Miller

(screen grab of an upcoming video)

Excerpt:

 

“There is something beautiful about a billion stars held steady by a God who knows what He is doing. (They hang there, the stars, like notes on a page of music, free-form verse, silent mysteries swirling in the blue like jazz.) And as I lay there, it occurred to me that God is up there somewhere.”
― Donald Miller

 

We’re inclined to think that life is like Jazz: Random, but somehow, making strange and beautiful music. So much of life doesn’t jive. The harmony is lacking and the beat is off. We imagine God somewhere up beyond outer space, holding the earth–and all things–in his hands, and letting the jazz of the universe play on. What are we to do with all that jazz?

(BONUS: Here is a great audio document on her majesty Ella Fitzgerald, the “First Lady of Song”. Her improv (scat) is pitch-perfect and sounds a lot like a clarinet.)

Check out the rest of the post I did on Ed Cyzewski’s blog today.

If you like it, you’ll LOVE Volume 5 of my ebook, God’s GRAND Story.
More details and a snazzy video coming soon.

For info updates and a free volume just sign up.

Subscribe to get 3 Volumes for Creators & Communicators (free) 

In which Sarah Bessey Writes a Letter to Bloggers…

In which I post Sarah Bessey’s photo

Sarah Bessey writes at Emerging Mummy where she has become an accidental grassroots voice for postmodern and emerging women in the Church on issues from mothering to politics and theology to ecclesiology. Her writing has been well received in many publications including Church Leaders, Relevant Magazine, A Deeper Story, SheLoves Magazine, and Emergent Village. Sarah also works with Mercy Ministries of Canada, a non-profit residential home for women seeking freedom from life-controlling issues. She is a happy-clappy follower of Jesus and social justice wannabe. Sarah lives in Abbotsford, British Columbia, Canada with her husband, Brian, and their three tinies: Anne, Joseph and Evelynn

Hey, everyone! Lisa, here.

I’m happy to include a lovely person, champ blogger, and Canadian beauty– the one, the only: Sarah Bessey. I could tell you that I love Sarah and that I love reading her blog, but then you would just think, “Duh? Who doesn’t, Stupid?!”

Yesterday, she had a gracious response to the flap about under-represented female bloggers by posting her own list, which you can check out with her handy dandy button (link):

So, I’ll just use this valuable spot, after the 50 Button and before the letter from Sarah (yes, it’s beachfront property, baby) to encourage you to sign on for RSS or email updates for continued awesomeness. Lots of great writers are my splendid guest contributors ( a.k.a Series #4Bloggers ). My first ebook comes out May 1 “Soul Care for Creators and Communicators”. It’s free (until NOV 2012) if you sign up for it here. (It too is part of the awesomeness. More on that in the coming days and weeks)

And now, enjoy!

FROM SARAH
Dear Blogger:

There are so many ways to be a better blogger, to increase your traffic, to maximize your SEO, to make money. 

I practice almost none of them.

After nearly 8 years of writing my life out online, I’ve made almost every mistake one can make. I’ve learned the hard way to write angry, but publish when I’ve calmed down. I’ve received my fair share of angry criticism and lavish praise. I’ve been convinced that I’m God’s gift to the blogosphere and, usually within a few moments, pretty sure that my blog is an abomination upon the earth. And I discovered that what is good for the Google analytics isn’t always good for my soul.

In the midst of the reactionary, often inflammatory, competitive, over-saturated, addictive world of online writing, I repeat to myself, “Remember who you are, Sarah.”

That simple phrase has helped me decide what to write and what to publish, what to leave to other bloggers. It’s helped me focus my content, reconcile my values with my work, make decisions about blog growth tactics, advertising opportunities, networking or relationships. It’s helped me not to crash into despair when someone emails with harsh criticism or fries me up in their own blog post as a “response” served with chips. And it’s also helped me not to get too full of myself when praised, I’m very well aware of who I am and, as every one that knows me in real life can attest, I’m disgustingly normal with flaws and frustrations.

But even beyond the world of blogging, that phrase has helped me make decisions about my priorities and values. It’s helped me to shut the computer down most days, to go outside with my tinies, to make space for spiritual disciplines like silence and secrecy, to make cookies instead of nasty comments. It’s helped me to engage in the hard work of real, skin-on community, to put my physical hands to justice and mercy, to rock my babies to sleep. 

“Remember who you are” means remembering that I’m more than a blogger. I’m Brian’s wife. I’m Anne and Joseph and Evelynn’s mummy. I’m my parents’ daughter, my sister’s best friend. I’m Auntie-Mama to my little nieces. I’m someone who would rather eat popcorn for supper. 

And beyond all that, it helps me remember: I walk in the ways of Jesus. I am a peace maker. I am committed to speaking Love as my first language. I am an advocate for Mercy. I am a grace-receiver, a forgiver, a woman after God’s own heart.

So my friend, remember who are. In the midst of the blogging, beyond the blogging, and through it all, remember this: you are loved, you are loved, you are loved. 

Remember who you are, my friend.  

Love, Sarah