Today would have been my father-in-law's birthday. Isn't it weird to think that one day, we will die, and our birthdays are almost null? We have lots of birthdays we celebrate with our friends, families, and their kids, too. Birthdays are a big deal. Until you stop celebrating them.
And the weirdest part of this? I'm actually so, so glad to know that one day, my birthday won't mean anything. That is there something bigger, more significant, more important than the time I spend here on earth. I find that comforting on an existential level.
The truth is, I get mad some times. I get mad at the milestones and moments I don't get to have with my father-in-law. It feels like being robbed, over and over again.
C.S. Lewis said, "There are far, far things better ahead than any we leave behind." When I think about that, my anger fades. While the birthdays of my kids feel like a big deal, they are nothing compared to what Don gets in glory. They are nothing. I can…
I've been thinking about something for a very, very long time. In a way, it came to a head for me yesterday, and then I read this blog post this morning and I decided it's my turn to talk a little bit about this issue.
For a long time, I've been saying, "It's not you, it's me", but I think it may actually not be me.
I read that blog this morning and tears came into my eyes. Tears of frustration, of loneliness, of relief. Frustration for things I do not agree with but I feel are accepted as "cultural norms", loneliness for thinking I am one of a very select few who think this way, and relief to hear that I am not the only one.
That last one is why I decided to write this blog: if you read that above blog post and resonate; or if you sit somewhere on Sunday desperately wanting to worship God but wrestling with a Christian church or the American Christian Church; if in …
When I had Joe, I used to look at moms with newborns who managed to be somewhat put together and wondered how they did it.
How were they not losing their minds?
How were they not crying all the time?
How were their babies so happy?
How did they seem so calm and I seemed like such a wreck?
When I got help for my post partum depression, I started to see a turn around. When Robert's dad died and I quit caring what anyone told me, I started doing what I wanted with my baby and saw another jump of improvement.
As a second time mom, I have the benefit of all that experience. I don't want anyone to look at me right now and think, "wait - how is she so functional?!?!" and not know all the behind the scenes.
First, "functional" is relative. I spend 90% of my day feeding a baby, doing laundry, doing dishes, and keeping my 2 year old alive. That's it. You may see the other 10% and be impressed, but it's a lot of messy hair and yelling, "JOE DON'T TOUC…