{Back to School, Back to Writing} The Beginning

She links her arms into the straps of her backpack, too big for her five year old frame, and confidently walks through the doors.  She walks straight to the hooks on the wall with her name plastered above and stands on tip-toes to hang it up. Without even looking back, she continues into her classroom and, as I watch, I wonder how we got from newborn diapers and late night feedings to this. 

My mind wanders back to snapshots of memories and I fight the tears as I try to hold onto those moments before she slips away from the shadow of this mother's wings into her own.  I remember all the times I've made a mess of motherhood and I wish I could speak words of hope and encouragement from today into that weary mom's heart of yesterday. 

What will she remember of these days when she is the mom of littles who steal her sleep but fill her heart?  Will she know how love covers all the tears and fears?  Will she understand how His mercies are new every morning?  Will she believe how He casts her mistakes as far as the east is from the west? 

I see her again, talking with her friends and waiting at her desk for the day to begin.  I want to run to her, scoop her into my arms, and breathe in every drop of her before today becomes tomorrow and this new beginning is long forgotten.  Instead, I smile and wave as she looks over with her own smile and "Bye, mommy!" before she turns back her attention to her today. 

As I walk away, my heart aches for the days when all she needed was her mommy.  I feel the pain of heart strings stretched and I wonder how it can possibly be stretched more. 

But mixed in with the tears, there is joy.  I know she is ready by the wonder she displays at each new piece of knowledge learned and her excitement each day as she walks through those school doors.  My teacher's heart relishes this new beginning as I watch her eyes light up as she shows me each day's school work. 

I listen to her play pretend with her brother and laugh at the way she teaches him the very things she is learning.  He soaks it up and her confidence grows even more.  I remember the school room in my childhood home where I would assign homework and instruct my own brothers and sisters.  She is so like me, but she is also so like her. 

It's so easy for my thoughts to leap back to the beginning of her story or jump straight to the end, feeding on the anxiety I already struggle with until I am once again held prisoner.    And while the thoughts may be true, they are not always lovely or excellent or commendable. 

Life is filled with new beginnings and it's easy to get so stuck on the past or the future that I forget about today.  I am not promised tomorrow and the past can't be relived.  If all I have is today, I need to live with abandon and rejoice in these new beginnings, no matter how painful they might be. 

I'm joining the Creative Soul community this month for Back to School, Back to Writing.

 

Letting Go

Five years ago, we brought our firstborn home after a traumatic start, more grateful than we could have imagined for this precious life we'd been given.  I couldn't stop staring at her the entire drive home, watching her chest rise and fall with each breath and studying every wrinkle and beauty mark on her fearfully and wonderfully made little body. 

I've watched her grow, day in and day out, from dusk til dawn, through every late night fever and nightmare when she just wanted to be held.  I'd hold her until my arms grew limp with the weight of sleep and love cradled so carefully in my arms. 

I couldn't bear to let go, afraid that the moment I laid her down and walked away, something, anything would happen. 

Now, I listen to her laugh, sing, and tell stories that captivate and take my breath away.  She knows more and understands more than I so often give her credit for.  She has a compassion and empathy far beyond her years. 

She chooses her own outfits, writes her name by herself, and helps cut up vegetables right alongside me for a dinner stir fry.  Last night, she laughed as she told me that soon she'd be cooking dinner while I cut the vegetables for her. 

She tells me often how much she loves me and misses me when I'm not there, but her eyes sparkle when she talks about learning to read, write, and count...and going off to school on her own.  She knows there is so much waiting to be learned and she can't wait to take it all in.   

This morning, I watched her pack her own lunch, brush her hair, and buckle herself in her car seat with a smile on her face.  As we pulled up to school, I noticed her silence and the fear behind her eyes. 

She was ready, but she knew it was a big step to take on her own.  

She held out her hand for mine and pulled herself close to my side as we walked in.  She is spreading her wings and taking that first step out of the nest, but she still wants to know that her mommy is right there watching and waiting.  

I stayed by her side as she silently took it all in, until slowly the smile and twinkle in her eyes returned.  She let go of my hand, sat down at her desk, and looked at me with a smile that said, "It's okay, mommy.  I'm ready." 

She may be ready, but I'm not sure I am ready to let go.  

I left a piece of my heart in that classroom and I wonder if it will ever feel normal.  And will the ache of the distance between us, whether great or small, ever go away? 

Because even when she's my age with a family of her own, she will still be my baby girl.   She will always be my baby girl and I will always be her mommy.  

Today it's kindergarten.  Tomorrow it's her wedding day. 

I know, I am jumping ahead of myself, but, really, if the last five years can go by in the blink of an eye...just three more blinks and she'll be 20...and who knows where life will take her from here. 

I want to hold on and never let go, but I know I can't.  There's beauty in each new milestone, but it's a bittersweet moment of saying goodbye to the past and hello to a future of unknowns. 

If I can't hold onto her, what can I hold onto?  

I'm learning, slowly and painfully, that letting go of my children means holding onto the God who knows all our tomorrows.  Letting go also means remembering that my children weren't mine to begin with.  It is God who made them and God who calls them to a future already carefully prepared for them. 


"When I am afraid, I put my trust in You." (Psalm 56:3)


 

Five Minute Friday: Present

"Mommy, I can't wait to be five, because then I get to go to school!" says this mini version of my heart beating outside the womb that carried her warm and safe for nine long promise filled months.

And it hits me hard, the tidal wave of fears and what ifs and how do I slow down time thoughts.

How can I forget the moment those two lines first appeared and my heart grew as deep and wide as my ever expanding belly?

Or those long panic inducing hospital days wondering if I'd really get to hear her call me mommy?

The vapor of time descends on me with all the memories of days I'd forgotten and moments I wish I could redo. 

For five years, she has been my shadow, mirroring my every move and looking at me with eyes that seem to see right through to my soul and a heart that beats with her own thoughts and dreams and fears so like my own.

And now, with just over a month before she walks through new doors, a backpack too big for this little person who is far too quickly finding her own way, I am stuck wondering if all the times I failed are really covered by a love that knows no bounds.

Because I want to slow down time and take back every missed moment before she leaves this nest and spreads her wings in a world filled with so much hurt and pain I wish I could prevent.


I want to embrace the present days yet unopened and hold onto every drop of smiles and laughter and moments she takes my breath away, but how do I do that when the ever near future is like a vapor ready to consume me?

***

I'm linking up with Lisa-Jo and a community of Five Minute Friday writers, but, as usual, I can't seem to stop myself when the words come.  Five minutes just isn't enough for all the words in my heart to spill out on this space.  But this prompt was exactly what my heart needed to breath.

Five Minute Friday: After (All)

Dearest daughter, 

Do you know you are beautiful?

With your bedhead hair,

mismatched clothes, 

peanut butter stained cheeks,

dirt covered toes,

and chewed off nails.

Yes, you.

Your beauty is the way you love,

with arms stretched wide,

and heart filled to the brim,

so deep and strong,

it hurts.

Your beauty is the way you dance,

so free and unburdened,

independent and loud,

marching to your own beat,

following your own path.

After all,

the God who painted sunsets,

planted breath taking scenery,

and turned the darkness into day,

fearfully and wonderfully made you,

just the way you are.

Dearest mother,

the one typing these words.

I see the way you sigh

looking in the mirror

and stepping on the scale.

You see numbers

and stretch marks

belly fat

and curvy hips.

But I see love

of a sickly pre-teen

turned healthy woman,

carefully cradling children

underneath the fat and the curves

and the beauty you call imperfection.

I saw you weak and weary

as morning sickness broke you

not once but three times

as labor broke you

not once but three times

and as love changed you

not once but three times.

I see the One who made you

and used you

to create life

and encourage hearts.

Yes, you are beautiful.

After all,

that same God

who carefully knit those little ones 

in the secret places of your womb

did also carefully form you

just the way you are.

And that daughter?

She's watching you

and learning beauty

with every word and sigh you make.

Linking up with Lisa Jo and a community of Five Minute Friday writers.

*I may have gone a few minutes over the time limit...but there were three children dancing and singing around me, making five uninterrupted minutes of free writing a lot more difficult...but definitely a lot more enjoyable.


**Also, these words came from my heart, but were inspired by these two beautiful blog posts I recently read...and by the daughter who mirrors my every move.


 

Bigger Picture Moments: To Plant Truth

Every night as the sun goes down and the kids cozy up in their bedtime clothes, daddy sits down with our two quickly growing children and opens up their favorite book.

"Yay!  God-book!" they declare and stare at the page mesmerized as daddy reads the words that tell the most beautiful story.

Their eyes wide, daddy sees an opportunity to teach truth and train up these little ones in the way they should go.  He takes their wild imaginations and gives them each a part to play as the words on the page take on new meaning through drama.

"Here, Valerie, you can be the angel and this will be your sword.  Almanzo, you can be Balaam and I'll be your donkey," he explains as they giggle at daddy down on all fours with a silly three year old boy on his back.

"Now, Almanzo, Balaam told the donkey to go that way, so tell me to go that way," he continues.

"Go that way!" he declares as another fit of laughter makes him nearly fall off his noble steed.

"Ok, Valerie, now, you're the angel and the angel doesn't want us to go that way, so hold up your sword to stop us," he says as our four year old holds up the coat-hanger-turned-sword shaking with the humor of the entire dramatic scene being played out in our living room transformed into a stage.

The story moves forward as daddy explains how God sent the angel to protect Balaam from the danger ahead.

"Daddy, God sent a angel to me while I was sleeping!  The angel was singing and dancing so I not be afraid," Valerie blurts out and daddy seizes the opportunity to tell her how much God cares for her, so much that He sent His son to die on a cross.

"And He rose again!" both kids exclaim and our four year old daughter, who so often understands far more than we give her credit for asks daddy to tell her more and then, as my heart nearly explodes with joy, she says she wants Jesus to be in her heart too.

Later that night, as I curl up in bed with my love, we pray for our daughter's sweet heart and the beautiful decision she made to open the most precious gift.  I fall asleep thinking about all the times we have talked about Jesus as we go about our days wondering if we were really making a difference.

All those times we shared truth, even when they seemed far more interested in making messes and running circles around us, were worth it.  Because you never know when those seeds planted and watered will fall on fertile ground and God will make them grow. 

Linking up with Bigger Picture Blogs for this weeks' Bigger Picture Moment.

 

{Bigger Picture Poetry} New Memories Blossom

 Photo credit: luz

It was the day after Easter,

the Monday after hope was found

in an empty tomb

and a risen Savior.

My heart ached

for the one I loved

who never rose again,

but whose body lay cold

beneath the dirt and the grass

and the stone that showed

a mere dash where he

had once breathed

and danced

and laughed

and lived.

Three years later,

my heart still breaks,

sometimes fresh as the day

he breathed his last.

I fight for memories

of joy and love

and life well lived.

And wonder when

it will stop being so hard.

It was the day after Easter

that our firstborn

the daughter who is so much like me

and yet so much like her,

the one who dances and sings

as though the whole world is her stage,

whispers to her daddy

a hunger and longing

to know Truth and grace

and to unwrap the gift

found in the blood of the cross

and the joy of the empty tomb.

She wants to enjoy that gift,

to open her heart

and let Him in,

to confess with her mouth

and believe in her heart

that He is not just God and Son,

but Savior and Messiah.

As new life blossoms

on trees waking from their winter slumber

and snow melting gives way to green grass,

new memories blossom

in a four year old girl

unwrapping the most precious gift

and claiming it as her own.

Hope covers the still aching wounds

and mends broken hearts

as tears give way to dancing

and we join angels in singing

for one more lost sheep

found and redeemed

and forever His.

Linking up with Bigger Picture Blogs to find meaning in the word plant with Poetry.

 

Answered Prayer

It was just minutes past bedtime stories and night time prayers.  Daddy carefully cradled her in his arms and carried her to bed, tucking the covers tight around her sweet smile and bright eyes for another night’s slumber. 

“Mommy!  Mommy! I…so…scared!  And I just…so…sad!” she gasps between sobs that shook her little four years old going on fourteen frame.

I rush in to find her bolt upright in bed, holding on to her belly button like a security blanket.  I try to hold her tight, whisper soft hushing sounds in her ear, and tuck her back in with a good night kiss. 

“It’s okay, sweet pea.  You’ll feel better in the morning after a good night’s sleep.”

“No!  I not okay!  I still so sad!” she declares, refusing to be calmed by my simple mending words.

Then I remember.  My mending words are failing because I am offering them from my own flawed humanity instead of grasping His truths that mend with a mighty rushing power.

“Sweet pea, remember how daddy read about God caring for you?  Do you know that He cares for YOU? He is here right now and He wants you to not be afraid.  He says to cast all your fears on Him, because He cares for you.”

“No, He doesn’t!  He’s not here!” she argues, shaking her head back and forth with the force of her stubborn four year old wisdom.

“Yeah, God’s in heaven,” her three year old brother chimes in.

“Oh, but He is here with you too.  He’s in heaven, but He’s also here with you.  And with me.  And with daddy.  He can be anywhere, because He’s God,” I explain.

“No! He not!  I still scared!” she stubbornly refuses once again.

Her daddy walks into our sacred circle and reminds them with the authority of a man who daily seeks His wisdom to lead our home in truth and love. 

“But He does, sweetie.  God is here, with you, now and always, because He cares for you.”

She looks at him with tears still puddled in the corner of her weary eyes and a longing to grab onto this Hope and rest secure in the arms of this God who knows and cares for her with a steadfast, enduring love.

“You know how much mommy and daddy love you?” I ask with tenderness in my voice that comes from a mommy who has watched her firstborn fight for her life just hours after her birth.

“Yes…” she barely whispers out loud, her eyes searching my own for the same Hope her daddy had just offered out loud. 

“God loves you even more,” I whisper back as her daddy holds her tight and nods his head in agreement.

“Should we pray for you?” says the man whose love for our children and even bigger love for the God who gifted them to our care daily takes my breath away.

She quietly nods her head, a fear still lingering in her tender face.

“Dear Jesus, help our Valerie tonight.  She is so sad and scared.  Help her to know how much you care about her and calm her fears so she can sleep,” he prays as we all bow our heads and close our eyes, opening our hearts to His mending words.

As the prayer ends and we tuck her back into bed, a new peace shines on her face as tears give way to a smile.

And as I walk away and ready myself for my own night’s slumber, I breathe in the simple Hope filled truths we have just given to our daughter.  For in one simple prayer we all see how He hears and answers when we call upon His name and lift our eyes to the hills where our help comes from.  

***

This post was part of a weekly writing exercise from my participation in The Story Circle, an (in)couragers writing group. It was peer edited by two fellow writers during a Writer's Swap. 

 

Bigger Picture Moments: Through A Crack In The Door

Photo credit: dospaz

I hear her breathing, softly in and out.  She is four going on fourteen and I just want time to slow down or stand still in the here and now.

In the quiet of the night, I imagine her story.  It unfolds in whispers of a girl become woman, dancing to her own beat, waltzing through life with a love heart that loves so deep and strong it hurts.

She is like me and yet she is not.  She is my heart beating outside my own body, invisible ties forever binding our lives together.

As I listen and wonder, I hear the creek and squeak of her bed.  She cracks the door open and peeks out, one eye still hidden behind the door, the other peering deep into my own.  It's as if she is searching my soul, trying to figure me out at the same time she wants to know and understand her own heart and soul.

"I so scared..." she whispers.  And with arms open wide and heart wider, I welcome her into the arms of a mother's love that knows no end.  I whisper to her fears the same way God whispers to my own.

"It's okay, sweetie.  You don't need to be afraid."

And as I speak to her heart, I speak even louder to my own.  I can feel fear knocking at the door of my soul, but I don't have to open that door.

I am not my fears and they are not me.

I have a choice to make: to be afraid or not.  And as I ponder this truth I remember:

She watches me closely and wants to be like mommy.  My entire life is on display for this one searching for a truth to hold onto and grow into.

What truth will she see in me to mirror and live?

Linking up with Bigger Picture Blogs for today's Bigger Picture Moment.

This post was inspired by a daily writing prompt found in A Writer's Book of Days.  The challenge in daily writing practice is to read the prompt once and simply write, without stopping to think twice or edit, letting the words freely fall from your heart onto the page.  I wrote this in my writing notebook, only editing a few minor details before posting it here.  I hope to continue this practice of daily writing, because writing is so very good for my soul and, like anything else in life, the only way to improve my writing is to practice, practice, practice.  And maybe, just maybe, I'll share more pieces like this here from time to time. 


Check out my review here of the newly released book (FREE on Kindle right now!), 31 Days of Forgiveness {through the eyes of grace}, and enter for a chance to win a fun giveaway prize including a paperback copy of the book!  

 

Bigger Picture Moments: Snow Day

It takes at least twenty minutes to get them ready, all bundled up for play in the winter wonderland that is once again our backyard.  They stomp their boots across the floor, smiles spread across their faces peeking out of their winter cocoon. 

I open the door and watch them slowly walk out, their excitement slowing down to a wonder and awe at the still freshly falling snow.  They march around the deck, staring at the way their boots imprint themselves in the snow, giggling at the snow slowly blanketing them in white. 

I listen to them begin to run and jump around in the snow as I load the dishwasher and clean the kitchen counters.  In one ear I hear the coos and squeals of our littlest one discovering his voice as he kicks and squirms around in the warmth of our home.  In the other I hear the laughter of these two who seem to have leaped out of the toddler stage and are now running full speed into childhood. 

And as I listen, I remember. 

I remember the sledding hill we built in my childhood backyard and the hours and hours spent laughing our way through day after day of winter wonderlands. 

I remember watching the news waiting to hear those magical words and changing out of my school uniform into my own winter cocoon. 

I remember seeing the wonder of it all anew when a childhood friend escaped her snowflake free southern home to see a white Christmas in the Midwest. 

I remember sipping hot chocolate and listening to the snow hiss and swish as the words blizzard hurried us into the safety and warmth of home.  

And I smile as I watch my own children creating new winter memories, because it's come full circle now.  My childhood is long gone, but I see it again through the eyes of my own children. 

Linking up with Melissa for this week's Bigger Picture Moment.

 

Twas The Write Before Christmas: Day 4

Home For The Holidays

 Photo by Julia Jean Photography

Home. 


One drama princess girl

Clothed in pink

Dancing to her own beat

Singing her own melody

Laughing out her joy.


Home.


One wild monkey boy

Adventure seeking

Risk taking

Couch climbing

Bike riding

Smile contagious.


Home.


One sweet baby boy

Tiny fingers holding on tight

Soft blue eyes engaging ours

Sleepy eyed, milk drunk smiling

Slowly finding his own voice.


Home.


One mountain bike racing husband

Gently leading

Graciously forgiving

Intentionally encouraging

Choosing love daily.


Home.


If home is where the heart is, 

then my home is divided four ways.

No matter where we are 

or what our Christmas looks like 

from year to year, 

I know where I belong 


and they are my home.   

 
Linking up with Bigger Picture Blogs for this year's Twas The Write Before Christmas.  Check out this year's prompts here and join in the fun!

 

Just Write: The Here & Now

In the middle of the night, my son begins to squirm.  I crawl out of bed, scoop him up, and nurse him before his midnight cries wake anyone else from a quiet slumber.  I can't stop staring at him, the way his hands wrap around me and hold me tight, the way he sighs so softly as he soaks up mommy's milk, and the way the two of us are connected so beautifully beyond the womb.  These are the moments I don't want to forget, that I want to imprint on my heart for years to come.

As the flow of milk slows and his sighs give way to the soft whisper of a sleeping babe, I think of my friend and I stay awake a little longer just to watch his chest rise and fall with each little breath, breathing my own prayer of thanksgiving for a son who fills my arms and my heart with more joy than I ever imagined possible.  And praying for my heavenly Father to wrap His arms around my friend's empty ones and encompass her with a peace that surpasses understanding. 

The little one asleep in my arms begins to fuss.  His night time congestion wakes him from his slumber and I rise from bed to walk and rock him back and forth.  My eyes begin to droop as my weary body reminds me of my own need for rest...but, for a moment, I forget my own discomfort and stare again at this newborn baby in my arms.

I can hear the soft snores of my daughter and older son in their room and I remember the many sleepless nights rocking them back and forth.  I know too many women who long for those sleepless nights, just to have their baby here once more.  I breathe another prayer, this time asking Him to remind me always not to take these moments for granted and to know, even when it's hard, that motherhood is a blessing and these little ones are a gift.  I don't deserve these gifts, but oh, how I love them...and oh, how I would miss them if they weren't here.

Because life really is a vapor...and we are not promised tomorrow.  These little ones belong to Him and only He knows the number of their days.  Our days together are numbered, whether it be until tomorrow or decades from now.  

So, for today, while they are here in my arms, I will stop to stare at their chests rising and falling with each breath, to laugh and dance myself silly just to see them smile, and to take mental snapshots of every single moment, breathing in the here and the now.  If all we have is today, I want to remember this forever. 

Linking up with Heather for this week's free writing exercise.

Enter to win a $50 credit to Shutterfly!

 

Bigger Picture Moments: Mending Moments

I'm folding laundry, quietly listening to our little ones play together, when I noticed a shift in the tone of their little chatter.  My daughter, ever so seriously, says to her brother, "Yeddo, great mommy got really sick and then she died..."

 "Oh..." he says and then there is silence.

And in the silence, my heart breaks in the places that were only beginning to mend.

It's been nine months now and still there are days that I miss my grandma so much it hurts as much as the day we said our last goodbyes.

All it took were a few words from my four year old, who sometimes displays a wisdom and understanding beyond her age that catches me off guard, to remind me that a piece of my heart will always be missing. 

***

On a Wednesday night, my almost three year old son waltzes through the living room after another fun night at Awana.

"Mommy, God made the lights!" he declares and dances around giggling.

I can't help but smile at the faith of a child and the innocent awe and wonder he finds with every new little nugget of Truth he learns.

And I'm amazed that he's beginning to take it all in and remember, excitedly telling me what he learned, and at the unwavering belief he already displays.

Just a few moments later, he reminds his daddy, "We need to read God book!" and bounces onto the couch next to his daddy and big sister for evening devotions and bed time prayers.

I listen to their sweet little voices lifting up prayers to our great Creator God and I am in awe at the story God is only beginning to write in their little hearts.

***

Before nap time one day, my daughter curls up next to me on the couch and whispers, "I not feel good, mommy."

I rub her back and hold her close.  "You will feel much better after you get some rest," I explain and hold her hand as we walk to her room.

"But, mommy...I not want to die!" she declares and I can hear the fear in her voice.

My heart breaks again and I am at a loss for words.  How do you calm the "what if" fears for a four year old who has already watched us grieve not one, but three losses?

"Shhh, sweetheart.  You're going to be okay."

My words come through in barely a whisper and after kissing her goodnight, I can't help but stare at her for a few moments longer as the "what ifs" cloud my own thoughts.

We are not promised today or tomorrow or even the moment after this.  Every breath I take is a blessing and a gift.

***

Nestled close to my son during another evening devotion time, we all listen closely as daddy reads from "God book".  The kids ask questions and are so curious.  I can feel their hunger for Truth in the urgency and excitement of their little voices.

And then, in one swift moment, my son leans over, looks straight through my eyes to my soul, and whispers, "mommy, I like you".

If one moment breaks my heart, another moment mends it with just a few simple words.  

This moment and every little moment I'm given with these two blessings is more than I deserve.  I may not know what tomorrow holds and I may not understand all the "what ifs" of life, but this one thing I do know.   
Every moment is a gift.

I'm going to grab hold of these moments, bottle them up in my memories, and pull them out when life is hard and in those moments when my feet are swept right out from under me.

Linking up with Corinne for this week's Bigger Picture Moments.

 

Shutterfly Yearbooks: A Review & Giveaway

 
In the past few weeks, my facebook newsfeed has been flooded with back to school photos. As I smiled at all the cute kids with their new backpacks, carefully planned outfits, and ready-to-take-on-the-world excitement, I couldn't help but think about next year.  Because, this time next year, I will be joining all the parents in posting a first day of school photo of our kindergartner.

 
And oh, my heart. I'm tearing up just thinking about it. Wasn't it just yesterday we brought her home from the hospital, after a long and emotional two week stay in the NICU? I can't easily forget the sleepless nights, watching her curl up skin-to-skin as I nourished her with a love that swept me off my feet with surprise.  She was my world as my days revolved around when she ate, slept, and needed a diaper change.  I jumped at her every cry, willing to do anything and everything to make her happy.

Now, I watch her play pretend, chattering away about an imaginary birthday party for her dolly.  She uses two pillows to create a make shift oven to bake a cake and carefully places tiny cups and saucers for a tea party for four.  I marvel at the conversations I can have with my firstborn who is too quickly becoming a little girl.  I wonder how to slow down time or at least capture these moments to hold onto them forever.

A few weeks ago, I gathered together photos from her second, third, and fourth years to create photo book memories that we can tangibly hold onto and remember over and over.  I'm not sure who was more excited about the arrival of a bright orange Shutterfly package - my daughter or me.  She was literally jumping up and down, running to the front door every day asking me, "Is it here yet?"  When it finally arrived, she helped me tear open the package and spent the next hour curled up next to me reliving these memories.

Next year, as she begins the new adventure of her first year of school, I am thankful for Shutterfly and their awesome photo products to record these memories forever.  Shutterfly recently came out with a new yearbook product that makes it really easy to capture all those school year memories.  I'm already imagining all the ways I can use this resource to record our daughter's kindergarten memories and I can only imagine how much more excitement the arrival of that bright orange package will bring to our home.

Would you like a chance to record your own memories in the form of a Shutterfly photobook?  Shutterfly has generously offered a FREE 8x8, 20 page photo book (plus shipping!) to ONE of my readers.  To enter, simply fill out the Rafflecopter entry form below.  Giveaway ends Wednesday, September 26th.

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*Disclosure: This is a sponsored post.  Shutterfly offered me a free photo book and website credit in exchange for my honest opinions about their Yearbook products.

Mirror Image

My daughter waltzes through the living room, dancing to the beat of her own drum, telling a story within a melody only she knows.  All of life is her stage and I find myself clapping right along to the rhythm, laughing and smiling as one dramatic performance leads to the next.

And then, just as quickly as her feet began to dance across the floor, her song takes a new turn, down the paths of discontent and selfish pride.  She wants to spread her wings and soar on her own, but only on her terms.  When things don't go as planned, she stomps her feet, purses her lips in a frown, and voices her frustration in a steady stream of complaints.

I stand there dumbfounded for a moment, still captivated by the lively storytelling of our tiny dancer and wondering how she could so quickly jump from a cheerful melody to the dark tone of a woeful ballad.  I quickly find my voice, but, just as swiftly, my patience wears thin and my mood becomes just as sour.  I rebuke in words that are filled with the same discontent and selfish pride.  

And then, before I can even finish my this steady stream of ugly words, I realize I am staring straight into a mirror.  Because the very thing I am rebuking my daughter for is the thing that I am most guilty of myself.  For all have sinned and I am no exception.  

I have never before understood so fully my need for grace than in mothering my daughter.  I wonder sometimes who is learning more, the parent or the child.  Because the more I train my daughter to serve Him, the more I realize I am still in training myself.  

"But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ..."

(2 Peter 3:18) 

 

Lilla Rose Flexi Clips: Review & Giveaway

I was contacted a few weeks ago by a sweet momma asking if I'd be interested in doing a review and giveaway for Lilla Rose.  I had never heard of this company, but the moment I started browsing through their beautiful flexi clips, I knew my daughter would love them.

Sue Ellen sent the Scrollwork Heart size Mini with pink beadwork for our review and surprised me by including the Princess Tiara size Extra Small with jet beadwork because mommas are princesses too!  Valerie was so excited to try out our new hair clips.  She made sure I put it on her right away and told me it was so pretty.  

My daughter's hair in a simple little up-do on the day of my grandma's funeral 

(taken with Instagram - mom2vanda)

I haven't had much chance to play around with different hairstyles with everything going on around here, but I'm intrigued by this album from Sue Ellen's facebook page.  The Mini works well for a half up-do for me, but I'm definitely going to be placing an order soon for a Small or Medium to try some up-dos for me.  I might have to pack one in my hospital bag for when baby arrives!  

The awesome thing about Lilla Rose flexi-clips is the sizing.  Each flexi-clip comes in different sizes, so there is one that will work for every hair type.  This video is a great tool for figuring out what size and style would work for you.

I was impressed with the design and the quality of each Flexi Clip.  The design makes them super easy to put in and, because they are flexible, they can be easily adjusted to hold your hairstyle secure.  Plus, there are so many different fun designs to choose from and every month there is a new Flexi of the Month.  I can't wait to see what next month's design is!

Are you intrigued as much as we were with Lilla Rose?  Sue Ellen has graciously offered a giveaway for a $16 gift certificate to her website, so one of you can try out your very own Flexi Clips.  To enter, use the Rafflecopter entry form below.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Disclosure: I received two free Flexi Clips from Sue Ellen Hale's Lilla Rose business in exchange for my honest review of this product.  She has graciously provided the giveaway prize as well.

The winner of the Dayspring giveaway has been announced.  Check out the blog post to see if it was you!

Update: I'm hosting an online part for Lilla Rose too!  Check it out (now through August 25th) and earn FREE shipping on orders over $20 plus Buy 3, Get 1 FREE if you are a current or new customer of Sue Ellen Hale!