I am a beginning for my kids, but I was never meant to be the end. I am a jumping off point, a place to come back to, and an observer of all within my view.
Power and balance, in and of themselves, are good things. But we fool ourselves and justify unhealthy behavior when we misrepresent their meanings and purpose.
We hush crying babies, stick pacifiers in their mouths to quiet them, soothe away our children’s tears and try to placate tantrums to save face or our own sanity. We have been largely taught to believe that displays of such behaviors are troublesome and problematic.
Circumstances change, interactions change, the challenges of daily life change, but your kids never, never stop needing you.
Giving ourselves permission to do things in ways that are new, different, or uncomfortable can be the difference between imagining a thing and actually making it happen.
Our kids ought to know that they fill us with wonder and awe. They ought to know that they truly are God’s gift—not to the world, but to us, their parents.
These reminders have comforted me in moments when I am picking up broken pieces of my dignity from the floor. My kids get the best of me, but they also get the worst.
To put it simply, it is my privilege to parent her well even when, even though, it may not come easily to me.
A bully is only as powerful as the environment supports. Bystanders are a major part of that environment.
I felt the realness of my connection with my girl when I sat down to read to my kids that night before bed. Intimacy begets intimacy—what a profound principle to remember.