family values

Purposeful Parenting (Part 2): Pay Attention to Me!

This is the 2nd installment of a 5 part series on Purposeful Parenting. If you missed the first one, you can read it here:

Pay Attention to Me!

As calendars go, do you feel like yours is packed? We’re all busy, aren’t we? I don’t like seeing a lot of empty of space on my calendar, either.

High five, soul sister.  

I relish the appointments, meetings, and after-school activities. And if I’m being really honest, the dates don’t just make me feel productive; they also make me feel important.

I read somewhere that the current generation is the first one that will have a documented, chronological history of their entire lives—recorded digitally forevermore.

Confession: I’ve been a die-hard documenter of life since I was old enough to hold a crayon. And I’ve kept every agenda, date book, daytimer, and journal I’ve ever owned.

My life is in those books.

So when my husband migrated the entire family to a synchronized Google calendar a few years ago, I resisted.

I like writing things down because I like the physicality of it. I like being able to turn the pages and touch the spaces filled with notes. I like the blank canvas turned inky with my smudges, cross-outs, and fill-in-the-blanks.

As our family grew and we ended up with four kids in four different schools, the old system began to fail. I missed so many appointments that even I had to admit there must be a better way. An appointment written down in an agenda at home doesn’t do me or anybody else any good if we’re in the car and don’t have it with us and don’t know what’s next, where to go, or how to get there. I don’t care how much time you have, nobody has time for that.

Whenever we write something down—whether we’re typing on our laptop, punching in a reminder on our phone, or slapping a sticky note to the bathroom mirror—what we’re actually doing is making a future promise to ourselves.

And it’s a promise to pay attention.

I don’t have to tell you that paying attention is important because you’ve seen what happens when you don’t.

When we aren’t paying attention, the scale creeps upward.
Junk fills the basement.
Weeds multiply.
Plants die.
Marriages crumble.
And kids grow up.

In fact, when it comes to our kids paying attention might be one of the most important things you can do for them.

As littles, my kids played and pleaded “Look at me.” They’re older now, and the phrase I hear most is “Leave me alone.” But leave me alone is an invitation, too. It’s a clue to pay attention to the swirling inconsistencies going on in the complex world of adolescence.

As a mom, it’s easy to point out all the bad things. I’m the worst about nagging my kids to clean their rooms. I’m guilty of talking about grades more than feelings. I often get in the car and turn on a podcast I like before asking my kids if they want to talk. And that’s because it’s so easy to notice what’s around us and so hard to pay attention to what’s inside us.

But I’m working on it:

  • When Christiana works hard at track practice, I say, ‘I’m proud of you for working so hard. You’re getting better everyday.’

  • When Gavin plays with his little sister, I say, “Hey buddy, thanks for spending time with your sister. It means a lot to her–and to me.’

  • When Aaron is toiling away on his next big business idea I fight back the urge to acknowledge the mess he’s making and instead admire his incredible work ethic and entrepreneurial spirit.

  • When Cari Jill asks me to write her a note and leave it in our special envelope, I’ll write something heartfelt rather than hurried.

Art. Inventions. Cultural shifts. Religious movements. They all happened because somebody saw something and paid attention. Scientists and activists, preachers and teachers, took up a cause said, “I can do something about that.”

Noticers make the world a better place to live.

What if for today, in this hard season of purposeful parenting that you’re in, you focused on being a noticer, not because it would necessarily make the world better but because it would make your family better? Intentional families, after all, do make for a better world.

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You Can FIGHT or You Can FLEE, but what if you just STAYED?

A few months ago, I started having weird dreams, and I know this sounds far fetched, but one morning I told my husband that though the dreams were kind of scary—not quite nightmares, but still disturbing—I felt like the message was that we were about to experience some kind of threat.

I remember saying, “I don’t think we’re going to die or anything like that, but something is coming for us.”

EEEEEKKKK!

Let me be clear I had no idea that Covid-19 was headed our way. I never could have imagined a scenario in which we would be quarantined in our homes for weeks on end. To tell you the truth, I don’t know what I thought, but it wasn’t this.

My dreams aren’t THAT vivid.

Nonetheless, a threat is a threat, and humans respond to threats in predictable ways. You know these already, but I’m going to list them again here:

  • Fight

  • Flight

  • Freeze

I have to give a shout-out to Chanel Dokun, a certified life coach, who clarified these responses for me.

She said everybody has a go-to response. And that now, especially, a lot of us are experiencing something called “emotional flooding.” Maybe you feel this way, too—overwhelmed, unable to take in and process information; stuck in a repetitive thinking loop, and losing empathy. If this is you, you are not alone.

How are you handling it? Are you fighting? Fleeing? Or freezing?

Allow me to tell you a story:

One gray morning, I was walking the paths along the back nine of the golf course near my house. My friend and I started early, just after daylight but before the real golfers made it back that far. And of course we saw wildlife—birds, squirrels, chipmunks—the usual stuff.

But on this particular morning, something unusual ran out from the woods at us. A bobcat! Or what I thought was a bobcat. I stood rooted to the spot, assessing the situation, getting my bearings, and trying to decide what to do (is this a bobcat? Is he going to attack me? ).

But my companion wasted no time. In a flash, she had circled behind me, grabbed my shoulders, and used me as a shield against the attack.

Some friend!

Don’t worry. We were totally safe. Turns out, the “bobcat” was just a loose Golden Doodle, and it only wanted to lick us to death.

But the perceived threat was real. She fought; I froze.

Freezing seems like the least helpful of all the stress responses. Am I right?

If you fight, you might be able to overtake your attacker. If you flee, maybe you’ll have a chance at getting away. But if you freeze (like me) then you’re only in luck if you’re being attacked by a black bear. In that case, I’ve heard rolling over and playing dead work really well.

Covid-19 is a very real threat.
But it’s not the one that stopped me in my tracks six weeks ago.

My email inbox is making me crazier than my fear of getting sick.

That’s the thing that’s causing the real emotional flooding.

Every single company I’ve ever interacted with on any level has suddenly jumped into action mode. I am getting all kinds of invitations to join them online. And I don’t want every minute of the day to be scheduled with zoom calls and virtual trainings. I don’t need another disclaimer outlining “our response to Covid-19.”

All along, I’ve just been trying to figure out my own response, so I started using the DELETE button a lot!

Can you relate?


I didn’t want to be online MORE.
And believe it or not, I also didn’t want to be online LESS.
I simply wanted to leverage the time ON MY OWN TERMS.

So I made a plan that worked for me.

But the plan that’s working for me isn’t the plan that’s working for everybody else. Case in point: the ice cream I ordered for my nephew’s birthday was somehow lost in cyberspace, and then even though I spent all kinds of time researching the “mystery of the missing ice cream,” I forgot to call the kid and actually wish him a happy birthday!

(Palm to face) I’m the worst.

After six weeks of shelter-in-place, I’m ready to get back to business-as-usual, too. I mean, it’s been real, but let’s be honest—there is no substitute for life with human beings. We may be flawed, but the computers are the real problem.

Did anyone else have this poster hanging in a public school classroom in the 1980s?

To err is human; to really foul things up requires a computer.
— Paul R. Ehrlich

Ironically, the guy that quote is attributed to most often wrote a famous book called The Population Bomb, in which he proselytizes a dark future as the result of overpopulation.

Fighting and fleeing require a ton of energy. But as my friend Laura says, “Busyness is not a business!” And right now, conserving energy seems like a smart move.

Plus that word—FREEZE— means something else. When you freeze something, you’re preserving it for the future. (Remember that wedding cake you ate on your first anniversary?)

A few years ago, I met this old guy who had lived in our community his entire life.

His motto was “I’m 95 and still alive!”

We loved listening to his stories of the “olden days,” of walking three miles to school and getting there early to light the stove before the other students arrived, of growing his own food, and even building the very house where he still lives today.

But the thing he loved talking about most was his dead wife, Jeannie.

His eyes glistened with tears at the very mention of her name. And she had been gone almost eight years! He loved to talk about how they met and how wonderful she was. In his eyes, Jeannie was a saint.

I remember thinking, “Wow! I hope I always feel that way about my spouse, too.”

Six weeks of social distancing and sheltering in place has provided our family with a lot of togetherness. Families raising teenagers don’t typically get to talk about family time like it’s a family value. But for us—being at home with one another day-in-and-day-out has been invaluable! It is an unexpected gift.

So if your response is to freeze-like me—don’t beat yourself up over it.

I have a feeling that when we are 95 and telling our own stories of the olden days, they will not include how many new clients we got or how many house projects we finished. I think we’ll be telling the story of how we spent time at home with our people, how we talked, and read, and did puzzles and cooked and ate together. How we called our friends and wrote letters and sent surprises in the mail.

That computer quote I mentioned earlier is actually a riff on an earlier quote by literary figure, Alexander Pope. He said:

To err is human; to forgive divine.
— Alexander Pope

And I love that because there will never be a time when I’m surrounded by people who love me more than the ones I’m with right now. We can sit around our table and have the best conversations, and we can also face off in our living room, shouting and pointing fingers. We can be the best of friends and the worst of enemies—all in the span of about two minutes!

But I think we’ll all be okay if we can resist the urge to fight or flee.

And just stay.

For the time being, everything else is just background noise. We’re going to mess up. The computer and everything else will get on our nerves. Stay and forgive. Stay and love. Stay and make peace.

I hope that when this is over you can say your people got the very best you had to give. Because the best story is always the one that begins and ends with you.

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12 Things to Keep You From Losing Your Crackers in a Cracked Up World

When I was a young mom with four small kids, my days started early and ended late. I’d count down the hours until naptime and then until my husband got home from work and then bedtime. I was a walking hourglass. It wasn’t that I dreaded the days. We had a lot of fun times, filled with moments of learning punctuated by funny things that happened.

Emotionally, though, it was overwhelming, and that’s what made it exhausting. When people would ask what I did and I would tell them I was a mom, it felt patronizing.

Just a mom?

“That’s the hardest job in the world,” they’d say and then walk away.

Sure, it was hard, but it wasn’t…interesting.

Believe it or not, I agreed. It wasn’t really that hard. (I’d been doing laundry and making food for years before I had kids.) What it was, though, was emotionally exhausting.

When Gavin got home. I would fall into his arms, my own weary from rocking babies and picking up toys and putting away laundry. I needed someone to share the overwhelming responsibility of managing toddlers and a colicky baby. (We’d joke that “colic” is when the baby is crying and so is mom.)

And that’s how quarantine feels.

Everyone is absolutely right—sitting at home and watching Netflix isn’t hard when we compare our “war” with the real one that was fought in the 1940s. We can do this (pump fists)! But let’s be honest with ourselves about the sacrifice we are making—our war is being played out on an emotional battlefield.

And so, there’s a few things I’ve learned that have made these days a little easier. I hope they help you, too.

  1. Get up and go to bed at the same time everyday.

    I don’t have anything on my schedule, and it’s tempting to sleep in everyday. “I’ll just get up whenever I feel like it,” I tell myself. But getting up and going to bed at the same time sets your body’s circadian rhythm and keeps you from sleeping too much (which is not a good thing). Seven to nine hours is normal and healthy for most adults ages 18-64 years old. Longer sleep is associated with cognitive impairment, depression, pain, and inflammation. Staying in bed longer will not help you feel better.

  2. Start the day slowly…and quietly.

    This will set the tone for the entire day. You may not be able to control how the day goes, but you can control how it begins. Whether that’s journaling, just reading the verse of the day in your Bible app, or giving thanks as soon as your eyes open and your feet hit the floor, do something proactively to calibrate your thoughts. I have a friend who sets her alarm to this podcast. She maintains that it helps control her anxiety.

  3. Make the beginning of your day about output, not input.

    It is so tempting to turn on the TV first thing in the morning or even scroll through social media. You should be informed, but the news is scary and can cause a lot of anxiety. Don’t let it derail your entire day. Instead, do something productive first. Go for a walk. Make breakfast. Prep dinner. Paint your nails. It doesn’t matter what you do as long as you’re the one calling the shots. Don’t begin your day in a reactive state of mind.

  4. Do one thing everyday that acts as your anchor win.

    Get dressed. Plan this week’s meals. Organize the pantry. Any one of these things alone can be an anchor win—even if you don’t do one more darn thing. That’s okay. You did your one thing, so you won today.

  5. Set boundaries with your kids.

    You do not have to be their everything. If you’re on the phone, taking a bath, having a cup of coffee…you are unavailable. Tell them they are not allowed to interrupt. If you are home schooling, then make your own “office hours.” These are the times when you are available to answer questions or help with work. The other hours belong to you. Remember, Mommy needs a break, too.

  6. Use any extra time to start doing something you’ve always wanted to do.

    Quarantine is a great time to establish new rituals. One friend has a “morning meeting” every single morning with her kids. Another has finally enlisted her kids to help with housework. Me— I am reading aloud to my daughter every night. I actually started doing it right before quarantine, but we’ve solidified the habit over the last few weeks because we’re always home in the evenings. My older daughter is in college and lives in an apartment by herself. She drives home for dinner every night, and even though she herself has never enjoyed reading, I’ve “tricked” her into staying at our house until after I’ve finished the nightly chapters.

  7. Plan low cost investments that act as incentives for your life.

    Give yourself a gift. I ordered gourmet soft pretzels as a treat for my family. My daughter colored parts of her hair blue. My son found an iTunes gift card hidden in a drawer and bought a new game. These are low cost investments that bring joy. Right now…it truly is the little things.

  8. Be compassionate.

    We carry a collective grief, and the burden is heavy. Please remember your friends who may be experiencing quarantine differently than you. Our friends with kids who have special needs no longer get the respite that school provides. Check on them. Friends who don’t like to cook are finding themselves stuck in the kitchen. Send them a sample menu plan. Our elderly neighbors feel isolated and lonely. Pick up a few groceries and leave them on the porch. All of our normal outlets for energy management have gone away. Work, school, and friendship look different. We’re all dying a little bit inside. Wherever you can, be an encourager.

  9. Measure the gain, not the gap.

    We are all grieving loss—missed milestones, family celebrations, and special occasions. But we’re learning how to do new things, too. We’re failing. But we’re also discovering new strengths. Celebrate the ways you have grown as a person in the last few weeks, not the ways you have really messed things up. Give grace where grace is due.

  10. Expect the best, but prepare for the worst.

    You want to believe that we won’t be living like this for very long, and so stay hopeful—not that you will be done sheltering in place by Easter or by the time school gets out in June or by the time it starts up again in August. Setting artificial deadlines will only set you up for disappointment.

    In Man’s Search for Meaning, psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl articulates the necessity of hope through his time spent as a prisoner at various concentration camps during WWII. He wrote that between Christmas 1944 and New Year’s 1945 the camp’s sick ward experienced a death rate “beyond all previous experience,” not due to a food shortage or worse living conditions, but because, “the majority of the prisoners had lived in the naïve hope that they would be home again by Christmas.” When this hope was unmet, prisoners found no reason to continue holding on, nothing to look forward to. When a mind lets go, so does its body. Don’t let go of hope.

  11. End your day with this question: What was the BEST thing that happened today?

    It might be something you did or something you learned. Yesterday, our family walked to the lake behind our house. We skipped stones and took pictures as the sun set. It was the perfect reminder that despite what’s happening around us, beauty is everywhere—if only we are willing to look for it.

  12. And finally, live firmly rooted in the present.

    As I write this post, I am already wondering about what will happen this fall. Will my younger kids get to go to summer camp? Will my older son, who is a Senior this year, have a freshman orientation at his college? Will I be stuck inside this house forever? The future is filled with uncertainty and fear. Again, I’m reminded about what it was like to have little kids in the house, and how we survived those long days mostly spent putting out fires. I could not imagine the day when my babies would one day pour their own juice or go to school. That day felt so far away. But like everything in life, even those long days were temporary. And so is this.

Faith: an encounter with God that transforms our daily reality.

And so by faith, I am taking one day at a time.

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WINSday on Wednesday--The Future We Create is Now

Loving People

Be kind for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle
— NOT Plato (although no one really knows for sure)

We have all read this quote, and every time we do (even if it’s for the hundredth time) we take a deep breath and act a little nicer because we know it’s true—everyone IS dealing with something hard.

My friend, Ashley Jones, is the inspiration for today’s WINsday on Wednesday. She’s the founder of Love Not Lost, an organization that celebrates life and supports people in grief by photographing families facing a terminal diagnosis. (You can watch our interview here.)

Ashley and her husband tragically lost their only daughter to Spinal Muscular Atrophy eight years ago. She has made it her life mission to help other families facing a terminal diagnosis walk through their own grief while creating lasting memories with the time they have left.

Ashley prayed hard that God would heal her beautiful daughter.

But when she heard very clearly that it was not to be, she resolved to walk right through the pain, knowing full well that God would use her experience of loss to help other families. Grief, she says, is unique to every individual, but there is power in being able to grieve free of judgment, fear, or expectations.

The question she challenges all of us with is:

“How can I love people better?”

And in grief, especially, it’s so hard to know what to do. We don’t want to do or say the wrong thing, so it’s tempting to do nothing.

But what if instead of doing nothing, we decided to do something that would make a difference not only here and now but for generations to come?


Am I creating the world I want to leave for future generations?

This idea is not a new one.

The Iroquois Indians, to whom we owe much of our current way of living, abided by something called the Seven Generation Principle: The Seventh Generation takes its name from the Great Law of the Haudenosaunee, the founding document of the Iroquois Confederacy, the oldest living participatory democracy on Earth. It is based on an ancient Iroquois philosophy that:

“In our every deliberation, we must consider the impact of our decisions on the next seven generations.”

The Great Law of Peace protected freedom of speech, freedom of worship, and the rights of women. The tribes instituted three branches of government, including two houses and a grand council, and originated the notion of separation of powers and checks and balances. The founding fathers adopted many principles of the The Great Law of Peace, but notably they ignored the seven generation principle and the empowerment of women.

Big mistake, Benjamin Franklin. Big mistake!

I heard one time that when people pass away they are usually only remembered in conversation for about five years afterwards. As for generational legacy, we’re lucky to know our grandparents, it’s rare that we know our great-grandparents, and rarer still that we have ever even met our great-great grandparents. All of us want to live a life of meaning and purpose. We want to be remembered, not only for the things we’ve done, but for the human beings we are. We want a legacy that lasts!

I used to work with families who have kids with cancer. Those parents had two big fears:

  1. That their child might die, and

  2. If their child did die, that he/she would not be remembered.

For many of these families, stewarding the legacy became the driving force of their mission. They started foundations and wrote books and spearheaded campaigns that would keep the memory of the child alive.

Faced with mortality, they became obsessed with immortality. And it was beautiful. To see these legacies live on in the hearts of the people that loved them most was heartwarming. Not only that, but these mission-driven families ensured that their children’s lives, though short, were not lived in vain.

There is a connection between the emotional moments that happen to us and the creative moments that we make happen.

These emotional moments sometimes manifest as interruptions, inconveniences, or gross injustices. But if we live each day in holy expectation, the moments become invitations to join God in the work of bringing more hope and love into the world.

There’s a famous play called Our Town by Thornton Wilder. It chronicles life and death spanning twelve years in a fictional small town called Grover’s Corners. In Act III, Emily, one of the main characters, has died giving birth to her second child and is allowed to return to earth to relive one day, her twelfth birthday. The other cast members urge her not to go back, telling her the memory will be too painful since she knows what will happen in the future. Emily ignores the warning, and her pain becomes our pain.


From the play, Our Town by Thornton Wilder:

Emily: “Oh earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you.” (She looks off toward the stage manager, then abruptly). “Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?—every, every minute?” 

Stage Manager: “No.” (Pause.) “The saints and poets, maybe—they do some.”


These lines are tragic, not only for their rawness, but for their truth.


The present is a gift.

We never know what courageous choice we make today will inspire another person. In one hundred years, no one will remember my name or yours. Like the generations that came before me—the ones I don’t remember and probably never knew—I, too, will be but a footnote in somebody’s attic scrapbook. I will never know my ancestors, but I am a product of their legacy— their faith and work ethic and family values and love of learning and courage.

Like my friend, Ashley, we all have the capacity to make life better for the next generation.

And that’s pretty cool.

What can you do to create a lasting legacy for your family and generations to come?

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