Tag Archives: Family

The Imperfect Job of Mothering

12 Friday May 2017

Posted by in challenges of motherhood, confessing our need, encouraging each other, expectations, frustration to freedom, generational patterns, importance of prayer, leaving a legacy, Parenting

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blue-orchids

Is life coming at you like the balls that are shot out of the machine at a batting cage? In that vulnerable place, is your only hope to swing at each new, in-your-face incident, hoping to connect with a few? That has been—and still is—my prayer and hope.

My nest has emptied. Though—praise the Lord—it occasionally fills back up. But I remember those days when I was standing with a bat in my hands and my heart in my throat, as one new challenge after another zoomed at me. Daily I was required to step up to the plate. By the grace of God I connected with the important ones. However, I also missed my share. As I have told my children, who now have children, it’s all about the track record.

We cannot do a perfect job. Our children will be fine if our track record has more hits than misses. If we dwell on the missed or messed-up opportunities, we will be too preoccupied to see the next ball when it comes our way. Anyway, our children aren’t counting. They are more perceptive than we give them credit for being. They see Mom up at the plate, bat in hand. They understand she isn’t perfect. In fact, they are more comfortable in a loving, imperfect environment than in one where Mom thinks she is in control of everything. (Notice: I could not say, “one that is perfect.” There are no perfect situations. My only alternative was to express the above comparison as “one where Mom thinks she is in control of everything.”)

We have hit on something here! A mother’s unrealistic outlook can create bad circumstances—one for herself, and one for her family. From such an artificial scenario, a tired, sad mom—and confused, angry children—will emerge. On Mother’s Day, Mom will not hear accolades of, “Thank you, thank you for giving your all to project perfection!” Rather, she will be amazed at the resentment that all those efforts will reap.

Children who live in reality and learn how to accept their imperfect environments are better prepared for life. Herein lies the legacy that our children will be able to vocalize to their children: “Well, I’m going to miss some of the balls that come my way, but I will show up everyday, sincerely focus, and try to connect with each new challenge. And in addition, you—my dear offspring—will have a front row seat to watch how a person can appropriately respond to those missed or messed-up challenges.”

Then, their children—our grandchildren—will grow up and be able to echo the same authentic witness.

More importantly, all these generations will understand the real power behind the successes and how their mothers were able to humbly accept the imperfections of life. This witness takes place when, before they see their mothers step up to the plate, they see them down on their knees.

~ A.R. (Alice) Cecil

Grandma’s Apron

23 Monday Jan 2017

Posted by in childhood memories, generational patterns, generations coming together, Influence of Grandparents, leaving a legacy

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I received a special Christmas present from my aunt. We share an interest in cooking and baking from scratch, so I suppose it should be no surprise to receive something fitting that theme. The apron is made from a vintage tablecloth and embellished with a vintage hankie. Even though this one-of-a-kind apron isn’t made from my own family’s heirlooms, I like to think there are stories laced in its history (much like the use of quilt squares in the Grandma’s Attic book series I enjoyed as a girl).

In any case, I will weave memories of my own with this apron and one day reminisce with my daughters.

The words below came packaged with my new apron:

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Grandma’s Apron

I don’t think our kids know what an apron is.

The principal use of Grandma’s apron was to protect the dress underneath, because she only had a few. It was easier to wash aprons than dresses and they used less material.

Along with that, it served as a potholder for removing hot pans from the oven.

It was wonderful for drying children’s tears, and on occasion was even used for cleaning out dirty ears…

From the chicken coop, the apron was used for carrying eggs, fussy chicks, and sometimes half-hatched eggs to be finished in the warming oven.

When company came, those aprons were ideal hiding places for shy kids.

And when the weather was cold, grandma wrapped it around her arms.

Those big old aprons wiped many a perspiring brow bent over the hot wood stove.

Chips and kindling wood were brought into the kitchen in that apron.

From the garden, it carried all sorts of vegetables. After the peas had been shelled, it carried out the hulls.

In the fall, the apron was used to bring in apples that had fallen from the trees.

When unexpected company drove up the road, it was surprising how much furniture that old apron could dust in a matter of seconds.

When dinner was ready, Grandma walked out onto the porch, waved her apron, and the men-folk knew it was time to come in from the fields to dinner.

It will be a long time before someone invents something that will replace that ‘old-time apron’ that served so many purposes.

(Author unknown)

~Christina Slike

Faith in the Birthing Room

04 Wednesday May 2016

Posted by in God's love and Mother love, importance of prayer, Motherhood

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   ChristinaAndBreanna

We see photos on Facebook of young mothers, with or without makeup, with perspiration-frazzled hair, holding a red, swaddled newborn. The new mom smiles. Proud hubby hovers. Grandparents flash cameras and send out announcements on cell phones.

I’ve experienced this first-hand. 24 months ago I was present as my daughter gave birth. Her pregnancy had complications, the doctor was concerned for safety of both mother and child; but finally a healthy baby made her entrance; and oh, what joy and thankfulness we felt.

What could be more awe-inspiring than the birth of a new life? Nothing compares to the expectancy, intensity, and thrill of witnessing a baby enter this world with wiggles and cries. You can almost hear the flutter of angel wings and the melody of heavenly bells ringing as the Creator gives breath to a new little person full of promise. When the child is desired and welcomed with love, the birthing room almost becomes a holy sanctuary.

As I stood by during my daughter’s labor, feeling helpless—then as I helped during delivery by holding one of my daughter’s knees—I was breathing prayers and praises. My daughter was too absorbed in breathing and pushing to do much praying herself.

But since she started carrying this child—when she had chosen not to accept the doctor’s offer of “terminating the risky pregnancy”—she had been putting her hope and trust in God’s help. During those nine months we watched a tumor shrink enough to allow room for the baby to grow; then it moved out of the way to allow the baby to enter the birth canal.

Awareness of the Lord’s presence and help bonded our little family group. We appreciated the clinical efficiency of the attending physician, interns and nurses. I couldn’t help thinking, though, how wonderful it would be if everyone in the room was a believer and open about their faith and dependence on the Lord. I’d like to have soft, beautiful worship music playing, someone gently reciting a Psalm, all participants aware of, and responsive to, the Lord’s presence; bathing the process in prayer; welcoming the child with praise and thanks to her Creator.

That would be heavenly. “Heavenly” is probably not how anyone would describe a hospital room. But God was present and He showed Himself mighty and loving. The medical personnel—whether Christian believers or not—were used of God as He answered prayer and gave us a beautiful, healthy baby.

~Catherine Lawton

A Grateful Lesson in Letting go of our Children

22 Sunday Nov 2015

Posted by in challenges of motherhood, expectations, Gratitude, importance of prayer, Motherhood, Parenting, Thanksgiving

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Letting go of our children reaps a harvest in unexpected ways.

As much as I want it too, time doesn’t stand still. In fact as we age I’ve found that it actually seems to move at a faster pace. Kids grow up, graduate from college, leave the nest, and settle into a new life as they seek independence and start a career or family.

Whether our children choose to live nearby, across the state, or across the country, we will be faced with challenges to our parenting and our ability to let go.

It’s a timeless lesson in love and sacrifice.

My older son graduated from college a few years ago and, because of a lucrative job offer, immediately moved out of state. There was no time for transition between the two major milestones.

It was a crazy time for my husband and me as parents. We experienced the pride of his graduation and excitement for his new life. We packed up all of his belongings and settled him into his new apartment. Then we had to face the tearful goodbyes.

Those first few months were pretty rough on all of us. Our son expressed his dissatisfaction with being so far away from his friends and family.  It was hard for him at work—starting over as the low man on the totem pole and learning the technical aspects of his job and the organizational culture. I think if he hadn’t been bound by a two-year employment contract, he would’ve seriously considered moving back home.

He recently made an expected visit to our area, and surprised his father on his birthday. I don’t think he realized what a gift that was to our family—away from the normal holiday rush that soon awaits us. For that one day it felt as if he had never left home—like one of his visits home from college.

In our short time together, I was struck with his maturity and the dramatic change in his demeanor. He said someone at work told him that the first six months on the job would be the worst. Well, he survived that and is now applying for a one-year assignment in another country. That’s quite a shift for someone who had a hard time looking beyond his present circumstances as a new employee.

As we talked about his life in his new home state, I also noticed his maturity in other ways. He was making adult decisions, making new friends, learning more about himself, his likes and dislikes.

Then it hit me. Our letting go had given him a chance to find his own way. Letting go had been a process. In occasional conversations during this time, his father and I had offered our encouragement and support. We came to trust our son to make his own decisions and for God to guide him (and us) along the way.

We sacrifice for our children in so many ways when they are young—our time, commitment, and finances. We pour our love and our hearts into them, hoping and praying that they will become wise and godly stewards of their time and talents.

Through it all, I know this to be true: they grow up way too fast, but letting go always reaps a harvest in some unexpected way.

In parenting our children and preparing them for adulthood, we can be grateful for these unexpected blessings from Above.

What lesson have you learned in letting go of your children?

~ Ardis A. Nelson

Anonymous Graveside Flowers and the Eternal Now

12 Monday Oct 2015

Posted by in Adopted children, childhood memories, encouraging each other, grief and loss, Influence of Grandparents, reach out and touch, the healing journey

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Inskeep-graveside

My sister (right) and me at our grandparents’ grave

My sister, Beverly, visited me this month and we took a trip to the town where our grandparents lived. We searched the cemetery until we found their grave sites. Grandpa died about the time I got married. Grandma died just before I gave birth to my daughter. As I was moving forward in my own life, their earthly lives were ending. So the generations go. Walter and Edith Inskeep adopted our mother as a small child. They provided a loving and secure upbringing for her; and they gave my sister and me unmatched affection as the grandparents of our youth.

For Beverly and me, finding our grandparents’ graves and their tiny, now-rundown house, was a pilgrimage. These humble, hard-working, faithful people poured unconditional love and encouragement into our early lives. Since Mother was raised an only child then died quite young (in 1977), we lost contact with the extended family of Inskeeps.

Maybe that’s why it meant so much to see that someone, after all these years, had placed flowers on their graves.

Every Inskeep grave we found had flowers. Seeing those flowers after almost 40 years, did something for my heart. Those flowers made me feel:

  • Comforted. When I am too far away to show honor to the memory of those who loved and prayed for and cared for me, someone nearby is doing just that.
  • Connected, somehow, with the living as well as the dead.
  • Concrete Immediacy. I cherish the memories and the photos of long-ago departed, dear loved ones; but the memories grow more and more distant and far away. Those flowers carefully placed by human hands at the graveside gave me a sense of Now.

I wished for a way to say thank-you to the anonymous flower tender. I pray that every time the anonymous person tends those flowers, God will fill their heart with hope and a sense of the eternal now and eternal connectedness for honoring the memory of such good people.

~Catherine Lawton

The Blessing of ‘Imperfect’ Children

06 Monday Jul 2015

Posted by in challenges of motherhood, encouraging each other, Gratitude, importance of prayer, Parenting

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Pre-school-graduation

What a challenge and a blessing, walking with Cameron from preschool graduation (above) to Class of 2015 graduate.

For those of us who have children with learning disabilities, educational milestones like a high school or college graduation are especially significant. It is a very proud moment indeed, one that celebrates the journey as much as the goal.

My youngest son was diagnosed with ADHD at the onset of high school, and was greatly challenged by a rigorous curriculum at a new school in our district. He persevered and recently received his diploma as part of the first graduating class at his high school.

What I’ve been struck with in hindsight is how eager I was to compare my son’s journey to his older brother. These two intelligent boys forged their own educational paths through different schools. The older one started school at a very early age and rarely needed any homework help or guidance. He was considered the ‘perfect’ child and made parenting easy.

His younger brother put in a tremendous amount of effort, but was hindered by his learning disability from keeping pace with his course load. Before he was diagnosed, we didn’t understand how someone so bright could have so many academic problems.

He challenged my husband and me. At times it was hard to not internalize his academic struggles as a reflection of our parenting. At other times, I began to think I had failed him miserably.

Like other parents with more than one child, I learned the hard way what it means to be proud of, to love and respect my kids for each of their unique gifts. In the process, I also learned a lot from my son. His struggles with ADHD helped me to come to terms with my own adult-diagnosed ADHD. We pursued treatment together and bonded in loving ways.

As graduation neared, I was reminded of a friend who told me she prayed a blessing over her son every night when he was young. She would recite Deuteronomy 6:24-26.

The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.

I was touched when I heard that she recently sent the Deuteronomy blessing to her now adult son in a card as he celebrated the first birthday of his daughter. What a beautiful spiritual legacy she is leaving her grandchild.

Blessing and praying for our children is one of the greatest gifts we can give them. Graduation seemed to be the perfect time for me to give my son the spiritual gift of a blessing. So I wrote this prayer/blessing:

May Cameron grow into maturity as a godly man, clinging to his faith when the challenges come his way. Lord, bless his hands and may the fruit of his labor serve to glorify you. When the time is right, bring a godly woman into his life that appreciates him for his uniqueness and heart of compassion. Lord, guide his footsteps and give him godly wisdom and discernment for the journey. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.

I invite you to likewise write a blessing to say or silently pray over your children. Even if your kids are now adults, it’s not too late. I know the faithful prayers of my mother made a difference in my life. Pray about what the Lord wants you to say.

Our ‘imperfect’ children teach us that we are imperfect parents and imperfect people. However, if we are open to the Lord’s lessons throughout the challenges, we will also learn that we are perfectly blessed to steward them into adulthood.

~ Ardis A. Nelson

“Mom-ness”

19 Tuesday May 2015

Posted by in challenges of motherhood, encouraging each other, expectations, Learning to appreciate Mom, Motherhood, Parenting, When Dad must be Mom

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Dads (and grandpas) have a lot of influence, too.

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I’ve experienced many incarnations of “mom-ness” in my forty-two years. I grew up with a strong mom: She started a business and grew it from grossing $40,000 a year to almost $1,000,000. I am now a co-owner of that company, and it will help support my family just as it supported me growing up. In the nearly forty year history of our company, through boom and bust times in Wyoming, it has provided jobs for countless women and has made a significant contribution to the community.

My mom was incredibly dedicated to her career, but she managed to always make me feel I was important too. She taught me about hard work, achievement, and balance. I’ll never forget feeling sorry for myself because she wasn’t home after school to bake me cookies. One day I complained about this. The resulting conversation taught me one of the most important lessons of my life.

“Kyleen,” she said. “I know it would be nice if I was home all the time for you, but what you have to understand is that I work because it makes me happy. I am a better mom to you because I work.”

I didn’t fully understand her message until much later in life; but she taught me I could have career aspirations, and my own life, while being an excellent mother to my children. I didn’t have to choose one over the other, because it was more than possible to have both.

Despite my mom’s example, when my children were very small, I struggled with guilt as I left for work. But God blessed me with a husband who valued my career aspirations and felt relieved not to be the only one who was responsible for bringing home the bacon, so to speak. We split the responsibilities in our home fifty-fifty, and we hired excellent in-home nannies.

Yesterday my husband and I saw a video of Anita Renfroe’s “The Mom Song,” in which Anita humorously depicts the myriad of things a mom might say to her children in a day. We laughed the whole way through, and my husband leaned over to say, “I’ve said almost everything in that video to the kids at one time or the other.”

The truth is, we both have. My husband has “mom-ness,” too, although he would prefer to call it “integrated maleness.” I just call it awesomeness.

I honor and applaud all mothers … those who work, those who stay home and those who are dads.

~Kyleen Stevenson-Braxton

Mother, Make the Most of Today

29 Wednesday Apr 2015

Posted by in frustration to freedom, Motherhood, Parenting

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Pink-graphicAre you fully engaged in your current stage of motherhood? Or are you focused on getting through this stage of life and reaching the next, longing for personal space and time to pursue your own ambitions? Can’t wait for your toddlers to be potty trained so you can put them in preschool? Can’t wait until your teen learns to drive so you can do something besides commuting kids to lessons, games, church activities?

Remember: Today is the day the Lord has made (Ps. 118:24). The opportunity for bonding with your child, teaching him the values you hold dear, and just plain enjoying him or her and creating memories to cherish and build on, is now!

One author who speaks compassionately to these sometimes-challenging aspects of motherhood is author and speaker, Alice Scott-Ferguson. During the week leading up to Mother’s Day, Alice will be our guest blogger. She will share her motherhood-affirming and faith-affirming insights.

Watch for Alice’s guest posts in the coming week, and enjoy!

Whether you are nursing a newborn, mothering a house full of teens, or enjoying grandchildren, live in the grace-filled moment of God’s “now time.”

“You’re Just Like Your Mother”

25 Wednesday Mar 2015

Posted by in challenges of motherhood, childhood memories, feeling inadequate, Learning to appreciate Mom, mother wounds, Parenting

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Mom's visit

Just like my mother: a rare photo of my mother, me and my oldest son, 1996

“You’re just like your mother!” Those words and that fear have been engrained in my mind and my psyche throughout my adulthood. They were like a blemish on my face that screamed for attention every time I got a glance of myself in the mirror. Not literally, but that’s how often the message surfaced.

I didn’t want to be anything like my mother! That comparison brought too much embarrassment, too much shame. After all, she was mentally ill.

My fears started as a teen. Whether you’re an adult (who once was a teen) or the parent of a teen, you know the feelings of embarrassment that can arise. As teens start to separate from their parents, test their independence, and explore who they are, they veer away from parental input and advice. They don’t want to be seen with their parents. And they certainly don’t want public displays of affection!

A recent episode of “The Goldbergs” addressed this very uncomfortable situation in a comical manner. Beverly, the mother in this sitcom family, which takes place in the 1980s, is always intervening—or interfering—in her teenage children’s lives. It is humorous and most often embarrassing— as you can see in this short, video scene: Beverly Catches Erica Hanging with the Cool Mom.

Fast forward to the present day and age of social media where the tables have turned. I’m now the parent of 17 and 21 year-old sons. Is it cool to be friends with your children on Facebook? And if you are friends, is it OK to ‘like’ or comment on their posts?

In my family, there is an unwritten rule: no tagging and no comments. Uploading photos are a rare treat for me. In other families, I’ve seen how they bring the good-hearted ribbing and familial connection that they share at home into the online community. I do respect the boundaries established in my family on social media interaction, although it does take some fun out of the experience.

I’ve come to realize that any embarrassment that my sons may feel due to my maternal behavior is normal. I don’t want to project the embarrassment I felt related to my mother’s behavior onto them or fuel the voice inside my head that says, “You’re just like your mother!”

However, my embarrassment with my mother was more than the normal parent/child phase of growth and maturing. My embarrassment and shame was rooted in private and public displays of her mental illness. I witnessed some pretty erratic and unhealthy behaviors from my mother during my teenage years. At times they can still haunt me.

As I wrote in “Walking my Mother Home,” my story in Journeys to Mother Love, I experienced huge identity revelations and healing with the passing of my mother in 2011. What I realized then and continue to see in new ways since her passing, is that I am just like my mother. I’ve had to separate the good traits from the bad ones. And I’ve learned to embrace those parts of me where she made a positive influence.

Four years later, I can proudly say, “It’s OK to be like my mother.”

Have you been embarrassed by your parents? Have you ever embarrassed your kids? Where are you on the spectrum of becoming just like your mother? We’d love to hear a little of your story in the comments below.

~Ardis A. Nelson

Adopted Siblings ~ A Special Closeness

11 Wednesday Mar 2015

Posted by in Adopted children, challenges of motherhood, confessing our need, emotional needs, encouraging each other, importance of prayer, Parenting

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From this picture, you'd never know they get sideways with each other!

You’d never know they get sideways with each other from this picture!

At age ten and seven, my sweet children have just begun to bicker. You know, incessant arguments about nothing. I guess I should feel grateful that it took them this long (some kids begin way before this), but maybe that’s why this behavior hurts my heart so much. Growing up as an only child, I always longed for a brother or sister and felt so lonely without a built-in playmate. My husband, on the other hand, can’t remember a time when his only brother ever wanted to play with him. My husband was always just the annoying little bother. Sadly, he and his brother never really outgrew this dynamic. Worse yet, their relationship potential was tragically stopped short when my husband’s brother passed away before his time. Now he will never have a chance to feel what it is like to have a close sibling. While I know my husband’s scenario is unfortunate and hopefully not the norm, it still lingers in the back of my mind each time my kids argue with each other. I am certain my husband’s parents tried to foster a good sibling relationship between the boys. Somehow, though, it never worked. I don’t want this for my kids. I want them to stay close throughout their lives and to value each other.

I think it is especially important since they are both adopted. My ten-year-old daughter is just now beginning to ask deeper questions about her adoption, about her birth parents, and about her birth. I work really hard to answer every question as honestly as possible, letting her know there are no “off limit” questions. I am under no illusions, however, that both my children will always feel secure enough to discuss the things they wonder about. I am hoping there will come a time when my daughter and son can talk together through these types of adoption-related issues. I’m hoping they can be traveling companions on the road to reconciling their birth stories and their adoptions. Perhaps this deep hope in my heart makes it even harder for me to hear them argue. I know they will need each other in ways that perhaps biological siblings don’t.

Hanging out together in the snow

Hanging out together in the snow

As “Love and Logic” parents, my husband and I usually handle their bickering with a “get along together or play apart” type of approach. So far they always choose the “get along together” option. That is comforting. And they still have lots of fun together and most times can put aside their differences. I’ve heard many different tactics for handling conflict between siblings, from the “get along shirt” to having them hold each other’s hands and tell five things they love about one another after a fight. I haven’t adopted any of these. For now, I just talk to them about how lucky they are to have each other and about protecting each other’s hearts. And I pray—a lot.

~Kyleen Stevenson-Braxton

A Journey to Brother Love, Part 2

09 Sunday Nov 2014

Posted by in confessing our need, emotional needs, encouraging each other, family gatherings, generational patterns, God's healing love, reconciliation, the healing journey

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With my brothers in 2014

My brother and I with our half-brother (center) in 2014

In the post, A Journey to Brother Love, Part 1, I shared how as an adult I was shocked to learn I had a half-brother. I only met him once, 18 years ago. The opportunity arose to meet him again recently. I didn’t want any regrets, so I traveled to see him.

From the moment we were reunited, my brother was friendly and open, even greeting me with a hug. It felt very welcoming. He is a charming and engaging man. Yet for me, the time spent together was surreal.

What do you say? How do you communicate with a brother who was raised by maternal grandparents since he was two years old because his mother died and he was abandoned by his father (my father)?

Does he even want relationship with me (us)? After all, we were the chosen family.

My parents were married for 17 years before they divorced. I was nine years old at the time. I had my own wounds. It took me years to work through them and forgive my father.

My brother is on his own journey of healing and forgiveness—as are each of us five siblings, from three different marriages. We share the same father and the same DNA, but we all have carried different wounds from the generational curse of abandonment in our family.

I don’t have any wounds related to my half-brother, only compassion for what he endured and experienced, not knowing his earthly father. He has had to come to terms with two dramatically different tales of his abandonment.

Where was he on the spectrum of forgiveness and healing, I wondered.

Except for one private conversation we had where he recounted to me the story of his miraculous reunion with my father after 52 years of separation, our conversations weren’t really about that. I listened as he talked about his previous marriage and painful trials with his adult children. Every time he talked I could see and hear my father in him. My half-brother wasn’t raised by him, but my father is unmistakably in his DNA.

At the end of our visit, I still didn’t have the answers I sought. So I invited him and his wife to walk me into the train station to say our goodbyes. I didn’t want any regrets. I prayed and let my heart lead the way.

The conversation that ensued was perfectly ordained by the Lord. It started off tearful for me as I admitted I am a sentimental person. I think we both said what we needed to say and cleared the air about our own personal father wounds. I already knew I wasn’t alone in my struggle to overcome my past, and I wanted him to know he wasn’t either.

The icing on the cake for me was being able to share with him my sense that our father was at peace in heaven. Shortly after Dad died, I had a poignant spiritual encounter in church while praying. Shortly after that, Dad acknowledged that he hadn’t “been there” for me. The veil had been lifted for him and his denial was gone. That encounter was very comforting to me, and I hoped sharing the memory with my brother would bring him some healing and closure also.

So was my family visit for my healing, or my brother’s healing? I think it was for us both.

My journey with my new-found brother is just beginning. It took my Journey to Mother Love followed by my Journey to Father Love to find it. When our journeys are bathed in our Heavenly Father’s love, it will end with healing and hope; because His DNA is what really binds us on our pathway to wholeness.

~ Ardis A. Nelson

A Journey to Brother Love, Part 1

09 Sunday Nov 2014

Posted by in emotional needs, family gatherings, generational patterns, God's healing love, letting go of anger, reach out and touch, reconciliation, the healing journey

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1996 Reunion

With my father and brothers in 1996

Recently a new pathway of healing opened up to me: a “journey to brother love.”

My father married many times and had children from multiple wives—my siblings being the last. I grew up knowing about an older half-sister, but never met her. I didn’t know about a half-brother I had until 18 years ago when my father reunited with him after 52 years of separation.

I was in my early 30s, just starting my own family when my father called to tell me about my half-brother. It was an ‘Oprah’ type story of amazing coincidences that led to their reunion.

I felt like my world had been turned upside down.

My father invited me and another sibling to meet him. The half-brother lived across country and was making a trip to our area. I eagerly obliged, or maybe obeyed is a better word. This was in my pre-recovery days when I was still holding onto the past, carrying a lot of anger, and searching for my father’s love. Now I had to share that love with some long-lost family member.  My resentment must’ve leaked through in that one and only meeting.

My father remained in close contact with his new-found son over the years. They had several cross-country visits. I occasionally heard of their trips together. Each time I nursed my internal pangs: “But what about me?”

Since that time, I’ve spent many years of healing and recovery work to get to a place of forgiveness and love for my father. My dad even helped with some family history while I was working on the final draft of my story in Journeys to Mother Love. Unfortunately, he passed away a month before the book was released.

My half-brother couldn’t make it to our father’s memorial service. My stepmother (not his mother), ordered an autographed copy for me to send to my brother’s wife. I had experienced even more healing and forgiveness with my father wound with his passing. With that fresh perspective, I decided to send a letter to my brother, along with the book.

Here’s an excerpt from that letter: “I think each of his (my father’s) children carry a distinct Smith* mark in their DNA that we had to overcome as his children. And just because we had more physical time living with him, it doesn’t mean we didn’t carry familial scars. I say this to you in the hopes that you won’t let any of those feelings get in the way of continuing to stay connected with this family.”

Soon I received a nice note from his wife telling me how much she loved the book and that my story touched her as she grieved the recent loss of her mother. We continued our communications, but there was no direct response from my brother.

Then a few weeks ago I got a call from my stepmother that my half-brother and his wife were going to be in town. I was invited to come home for a visit. At first I declined due to an already full schedule. But thoughts of my brother and our disjointed family connection kept surfacing.

Did I need more healing or was it for my brother? I needed to know.

So I set aside my work and hopped on a train across the state.

Stay tuned for Part 2 of this post to find out how this Journey to Brother Love ends.

~ Ardis A. Nelson

*Surname changed to protect family privacy.

A Letter on Leaving the Nest

02 Wednesday Jul 2014

Posted by in encouraging each other, leaving a legacy, Parenting

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He’s gone…my firstborn child graduated from college last month.  Then we packed up his belongings and settled him into an apartment 500 miles from home.

The last several weeks have been a frenzy of activity, including his 21st birthday.  I had glimpses of the emotion that I knew would come.  But none was as surprising as the wave that hit me when my son returned a letter to me I had written him when he left for college almost four years ago.

We were cleaning out his room, sorting what to take with him, what to keep at home, and what to get rid of.  He isn’t the sentimental type and asked me if I wanted to keep the letter. Naturally I agreed. While his focus and attention remained on sorting his belongings, I snuck away to read the letter…and the tears came.

I was surprised by the things I told him. I recalled the timing of the letter and what was going on in our lives. The events that led to my writing “Walking My Mother Home” in Journeys to Mother Love were just starting to develop: Pedro had returned to Spain after his first summer with our family; my communication had started with his mother Rosa; we had found out that Carmen, Rosa’s mother, only had a few months to live; and my mother was on hospice care back in Illinois.

Yet there in the midst of the pain of my aching mother wound I took the time to write a beautiful letter to my son. It seems my heart was already changing. The Lord was directing me to make a connection to my son in one of the few ways I felt comfortable—by writing him a letter.

I wish I’d done that again now. Maybe I still will. Or maybe this is the start of a season of occasional Skype calls and Facebook chats.

In any case, I’m sharing excerpts of that original letter here. Much of it still applies to my son’s post-college launch as it did to his move into the dorm. My hope is that it inspires you or gives you ideas on how to also write or connect with your son or daughter who has left the nest.

Dear Evan,

I don’t suppose that this note will tell you anything that I haven’t already conveyed to you in some way.  As you know, I am a person of many words.  This is my way of giving you a keepsake as you ‘leave the nest’ today.  Please keep this note and re-read it when you are feeling low, frustrated or confused while away at college…

…Your success in life is not based on what college you attend or the grades that you achieve.  It is based on your ability to integrate life’s disappointments and failures into your character and grow from them…

…Living on campus will present new challenges and exciting times for you—making your own decisions, meeting new people and learning to live with two roommates.  Sometimes it may seem like there are too many choices or not enough time.  You will need to sift through those choices.  If something doesn’t work out well or is not what you expected, it isn’t the end of the world.  You can still pick yourself up and move on with your head held high.  You can choose to forgive others and you can offer forgiveness to others too.  And remember, it’s not about being right.  Sometimes it’s about the greater good or the bigger picture.  It is hard to humble ourselves.  It is even harder to admit we were wrong.  Sometimes those simple words, “I’m sorry” can mean so much…

…The main thing I want to convey to you is that we trust you and that we are here for you.  We want you to explore your independence and to make your own decisions realizing that there will be some stumbling.  We hope that you will come to us for advice, to vent your frustrations and to rejoice in your successes.  We want to be here for you in whatever way we can as you transition to life on your own.

We love you regardless of the circumstances.  More than that, God loves you.  I hope and pray that you will use His Word and His Spirit inside you to guide you in your difficult decisions and your daily walk.

Love,
Mom

Reading that again even now, I have the overwhelming sense that these words were not just meant for him (or our children), but they were meant for me (and other adults) who didn’t have that kind of encouragement poured into them.

I know that today as I embrace this new season of motherhood and close the door to my son’s empty room, I need just a bit of encouragement too. How about you?

~ Ardis A. Nelson

When Mother Love Must Be Tough Love

24 Monday Mar 2014

Posted by in challenges of motherhood, childhood memories, God's healing love, rejecting lies, the healing journey, when tragedy hits

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Water Under the Bridge

A mother’s love may be tested and tried almost beyond endurance, until it has the opportunity to shine like gold refined in a furnace.

Such is the case with the mother described in the novel, Water Under the Bridge, by Verna Simms (Verna is also a contributor to the book, Journeys to Mother Love and this blog.)

Verna’s novel surprised me with its vivid characters and setting and its powerful themes. If you have read Verna’s short memoir in the Journeys to Mother Love, this novel will provide background that will give you even more appreciation for Verna’s personal story. While Water Under the Bridge is fiction, it is based on Verna’s experience as a child. I am sure the wonderful main character of the story, a nine-year-old girl named Amelia, is very much like our Verna was as a child.

What was it like in the early 20th Century, when a father converted to Mormonism, sold the farm in Missouri and moved his family to the dry desert of Arizona, where he found freedom to embrace the teaching of polygamy? As the family struggled to make ends meet during the Great Depression, what was it like for the wife and children to have their husband and father bring into their home young wives no older than his eldest children? What was it like for the young daughter to deal with conflicting feelings of love for her family, normal experiences of growing up, and yet increasing disappointment and disdain for her father … and finally fear for her own future as she overhears what her father has planned for her?!

Where should the wife and mother’s loyalties lie?

An unusual and profound story! In places it is, perhaps, not for the faint of heart. But if you read it (and it is available in both paperback and Kindle) you will be rewarded with a great read, an engrossing story, and a beautiful picture of tough mother love!

Generations of Blessing

05 Wednesday Feb 2014

Posted by in generational patterns, God as our parent, Gratitude, importance of prayer, Influence of Grandparents, leaving a legacy, the healing journey

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Grandchild-1A few years ago, when my daughter-in-law was pregnant with our first grandchild, I sat in church as she and our son participated in the worship team—David playing guitar and Hannah singing. I thought of the baby Hannah was carrying—just past her first trimester. I watched the parents-to-be standing before the Lord and the congregation pouring forth the praise, proclaiming their faith with all their energies, their hearts, their voices.

It dawned on me that the baby—who by now had formed arms and legs—would be sensing this devotion and somehow experiencing the glory and presence of God.

Gratitude and joy rose within me, and the Lord assured my heart that His hand was already on that child as it has been on past generations; that the devotion and faithfulness of the parents would bear fruit in the children, again.

When my mother carried me, she and Daddy—just 20 and 25 years old—were preaching and praying and singing and piano playing. Honestly, I think the “language” of music and prayer were the first languages with which I became familiar.

Twenty-four years later I carried David and, during those nine months, often sat at the piano playing classical music, church music, choir music, and quartet music. My husband was singing; we were often in the midst of praying. And though we had struggles within and without, our faith was bedrock, rooted in “the ground of our being,” deeper even than the dark, moist bed of new life, the womb.

And now it comes to me like a revelation that God is continuing His faithfulness, His friendship with us—to the next generation, to our grandchildren! What a reward, what a hope, what a comfort, what a joy!

Alone at home the next day, Monday, I thought on this again, and the Holy Spirit moved my heart to rejoice and weep and pray for this new life. A sort of sing-song prayer came to me, and I wrote the words out in poem form:

God Bless the Baby
~
Oh, sweet baby,
Little baby Lawton,
Baby, do you hear it?
Hear your mama singing?
Hear your daddy praying?
Baby, do you hear them?
Blessed little baby.
~
God bless Hannah;
Bless her little baby.
Let it hear the singing,
Hear her heart’s devotion;
Make the Maker real,
Present every moment.
~
God bless David;
Bless his little baby.
Let it hear the praying,
Hear the strong assurance,
Feel the Father’s nearness,
There for His baby.
~
Oh, sweet baby,
Little baby Lawton,
Baby, do you hear it?
Hear your daddy singing?
Hear your mama praying?
Baby, do you hear them?
God bless the baby.
~
Amen.

~

–Catherine Lawton