two things.

Couple quick thoughts before i run out the door here.

1. I am reflecting today on how thankful I am that we don’t all share the same passions. I spend a lot of time here as an advocate for things that are deeply personal and I believe in. I think that’s healthy. I think it’s important that we listen to one another. That we join each other. I do think you should buy a stove.

But I’m also glad that it is not the driving force for all of you. Because I’m so thankful that some of you decided that you would study, go to years and years of school to learn about the human body and figure out how to put a bladder back inside the body after something went horribly wrong during prenatal development. I’m so thankful that some can’t sleep at night because you are concerned for your students and you can identify when a random capitalized letter may be indicative of something else. I’m so thankful that some of you study the brain and the emotional effects of malnutrition and loss and medical trauma. I’m so glad that some of you really like to teach kids how to read. I’m so glad that some of you really like to teach a boy–who might be looking for some outlet of success and release– how to throw a baseball. I’m so glad someone at Starbucks perfected the roasting of a coffee bean. Seriously.

Because it is taking all you to raise these kids of mine.

I get to be their Mother. I am doing my best. But I cannot meet all those needs. Love alone does not make a bladder grow. (I wish it did). Love alone does not heal damaged brain pathways. Love alone does not protect from the challenges of the playground. Or the teenage locker room.

And thank God. We don’t do it alone.

I’m so thankful for all you who are partnering with us for these kids that we love so much.

2. The reason they all say–”It changes. It gets easier physically. But it gets harder emotionally.”

Yah.

The reason they all say that.

Is because it’s true.

This is getting harder.

It’s one thing for your toddler to bite in the nursery. Or get pushed down in preschool.

That is not fun.

I cried those tears.

And it’s one thing for your teenage son’s eyes to well with tears while he tries to pretend it doesn’t hurt.

Oh my word.

Oh my word.

This mothering gig is changing.

It is “easier” in some ways.

And it’s a whole, new, excruciating ball game in another.

And still.

Ever still.

I’m so glad I get do it.

—-

***OK. I’m back. Went to the store. Bought groceries. Drove in the car. Cried. Prayed. And couldn’t shake this thought…

On any given day, the child that is hurting the most is my favorite. And in some small way, that reality brings a tiny bit of clarity to mystery of the gospel.

Wow. Feeling that so deeply today…