Push-ups, Plants, and Patience

pushups, plants, and patience

The first time a physical therapist showed up on my door step to evaluate Christina for services, I’m fairly certain I was as warm and welcoming as glacier ice several miles thick in January. She had worked with special needs kids for blah blah…and at that point, I was lost and gone. I did not have a special needs kid. I had a developmentally delayed premature baby. Get it right lady. Out came the check list. Was Christina able to do this, this, this, this, or this? No, no, no, no, and no. What did that prove anyway?? Clearly, there really was no extensive problem here. The therapist wisely ignored me, and proceeded with the whole business as if she didn’t notice my freezing lack of enthusiasm. When Christina was somewhere around a year old, I finally floated back down to the good old reality of Earth, and was ready … Continue reading

I Won’t be That Mom

I won't be that mom

     I grew up in central Florida. Where heat shimmers in waves above the asphalt, where afternoon thunder storms with more electricity in them than the entire population of Texas uses in a year (or so it seemed anyway) is the norm, and where of course, Mickey Mouse brings hundreds of thousands of visitors every year. Not to be misunderstood though, Mickey and I were not BFFs in my childhood years. My family actually lived well outside the ring of glitzy entertainment, down a dirt road, in a double wide trailer, on the back side of a cactus nursery. The “cactus farm”, as my friends dubbed it, was a family owned and operated business passed down from my Grandpa. Cacti were the means of financing our food, shelter, and education, and we kids were expected to take the growing of them as seriously as the adults.      I … Continue reading

I can be a mom, but I cannot be a Savior

I am a mom, but I am not a Savior

         You are busy, you have stuff to do, and you hear your child’s voice calling you from the back door. You ignore them, because that is what any self-respecting mother who expects to get anything at all done in a twenty four hour period would do. The calls are insistent. That kid is not going away. Whatever they have to say is apparently worth repeating “maaaaaammmmmmaaaa” seventeen times. The eighteenth time the little voice takes on a forlorn tone as if you have abandoned them forever. The tone of voice does its work, and your awakened feelings of pity send you immediately to admire the flower they have found (one of the approximately four billion weeds in the yard), be appropriately sympathetic about the scratch on their finger (which you can’t actually see), get them a drink (which they could have gotten themselves), assure them that … Continue reading

Use it rather

Use it rather

If you happened to be driving down Woods dr last week, you may have been tempted to raise an eyebrow at the sight in my front yard. Two little girls (not really sure to which irresponsible mother they belonged), like two frogs in a jar, had stuffed themselves into the city issued recycle bin tote, filled it with water, and were having a great time “swimming” in the fresh spring air. Because if mom won’t put out your pool for you, what else do you do, but find a way to swim anyway? I can’t help but think that’s exactly what God meant for me to do when life is not exactly the poolside experience I requested. I do believe that the same God who turned water to wine, who healed a blind man’s eyes with mud, who sent Gideon into battle with a trumpet, who trained David to be … Continue reading