But what does waiting well really mean? When I stop to think about it, it can’t mean stuffing your desires and needs so that they don’t ‘bother’ you much. Waiting, surely, is meant to be disruptive.
Day 32: Pen
The family happened to be all occupied. With what, I’m not sure, but it was calm and I decided to try slipping onto the porch without being missed. I grabbed a few quick supplies: drink, phone (always), book, and pencil and headed out to the swing camp chair. The pencil -- I’m pretty sure my …
Vapor and Ashes
It’s as if we were living in a house and it burned to the ground. I’m not sure I ever stopped to make a list of what was left in the house, of what we lost. We moved into a new house, fully furnished -- it was easier just to pretend everything was normal,” I …
5 Ways My Husband Supports My Mental Health, A Family Life Guest Post
“Today was not a good day,” I darkly greeted my husband as he entered our apartment and took in the scene. I laid on the couch while the kids had some screen time in our bedroom. My struggle with anxiety and maintaining my mental health had taken a more prominent role in our lives over …
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Day 23: Band-aid
Typical of little people, my children have both believed in the power of a Band-aid. Not just for broken skin, band-aids are requested for all kinds of boo-boos. Bug bites, scratches, or burns, and bruises, soreness, or bumps -- the act of adding a bandage has magical powers to soothe. It’s not just band-aids either, …
Day 20: Trash
A couple of years ago in preparation for a Bible study on the book of Galatians, I read Tim Keller’s excellent book Galatians For You. When he gets to the end of chapter 3, he stops and camps out on how Paul uses the imagery of clothes all over his letters and helps us understand …
Day 16: Breathe
Sarah Bessey just sent out “Breath Prayers for Anxious Times” and it’s a timely reminder. There have been several seasons in my life when my anxiety was so high, I actually had trouble breathing. Not so severe as a panic attack, but more like living 24/7 (or, all my waking hours is probably more accurate) …
Day 5: Hair
I often think that so much of growing up is just learning to tolerate life’s discomforts. We have come up with elaborate procedures needed to take medicine that tastes bad (honey spoon + medicine + immediately followed by another honey spoon, if you’re interested); we have offered lollipops for hair detangling sessions, abandoned entire packs of underwear or socks that were bothersome for some inarticulable reason, and all of this is usually after trying to reason until we’re blue in the face.
Day 1: Breakfast
I turned out okay. Poptarts and Little Debbies didn’t ruin me and, come to think of it, I wasn’t ever ruined at all. Even things less than ideal, painful as some were and even are, did not undo me. They made me.
No Matter How You Feel
“I love you no matter how you feel,” I tell her as she backs herself against the wall, panic in her eyes as her emotions overwhelm her. I’m familiar with that panicky feeling— not only because I’m currently walking alongside my second highly sensitive daughter through toddlerhood, but also because my toddler’s emotions mimic my …
