Back when I had preschoolers, I used to get all judgy about overscheduling. People throw their children into too many activities, I sniffed. Those poor kids. And then my daughters hit elementary school and wham, I realized how exponential family time commitments were. If we say yes to two things, suddenly our calendar feels overfull. It’s incredibly hard …
The Healthiest People I Know Are Mentally Ill
“In a wiser, more self-aware society than our own, a standard question on any early dinner date would be: ‘And how are you crazy?’” Alain de Botton, “Why You Will Marry the Wrong Person“ When I was six, my nine-year-old sister, Katie, was put into a mental hospital for three months. There’s a lot to …
On Being Gentle: For #WholeMama
When my oldest daughter was a toddler, her favorite thing to do after lights-out was to stroke my arm. I have a variety of moles; she’d rub them like little worry beads. In my head, I felt honored by her touches. They were (mostly) gentle, and meant that my very body was a comfort object. …
What I Got Wrong About Women and Anger: At ForHer
Lately, I find it hard to avoid getting angry. On Facebook, I watch as the posts and comments I scroll through give off sparks with their vitriol. The chasm of understanding dividing me from those I disagree with feels achingly wide. And I know that I’m not the only one experiencing this gap, and the …
Why Simplicity Will Make You Braver
At the time, I couldn’t tell why staying home filled me with so much fear. I had two little kids. I homeschooled. Most mornings, about ten am, I started getting jittery, bored, and cranky. Caring for little kids is tiring. By mid-morning I desperately needed a break. So I took my girls on an outing to …
When You Fail to Become the Perfect Spouse: The Mudroom
The last night of my honeymoon, almost fifteen years ago, I set an alarm to wake us up for our first day back at work—and started to cry. “Our honeymoon is over,” I wailed. “Things have been so great so far, but this has been the easy part. What will happen when things get harder?” …
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Beliefs I Wish Weren’t True: Sins of our Fathers, Part 2
Last week, I talked about Numbers 14:18, about how children are “punished for the sins of the fathers to the third and fourth generation”. If you wonder why the heck I’d want to talk about that verse, go read it. I promise there’s helpful information hidden in this seemingly awful verse of the Bible. This week’s post ad …
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Beliefs I Wish Weren’t True: Sins of the Fathers Part 1
First, let’s get this verse out of the way. Quickly. “The Lord is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, forgiving iniquity and transgression, but he will by no means clear the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children, to the third and the fourth generation.” Numbers 14:18, ESV This verse …
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Sisterhood is a Practice: For SheLoves
I wanted to look forward to my older sister’s visit last year. But I was not entirely successful. It had been almost five years since Katie had last stayed at my house in San Diego. Lately, we’ve been growing closer, and last year I visited her a few times in Michigan. But her coming to …
How We Treat Our Kids Has Magic In It
I was afraid to become a parent. I was afraid I’d be a lousy mom, that my type-A personality would make me controlling and exacting. Likewise, I loved the idea of homeschooling, but knew I would drive everyone around me crazy if I tried to be super-structured. Like Bert sings in Mary Poppins, my …
What I want you to know about homeschooling: For Rage Against the Minivan
If I tell you I home school, and you don’t, I can guess what you’ll say: “I could never do what you’re doing.” I want you to know something: You’re wrong. You could do what I’m doing. Let’s be clear. I’m not saying this in a judgy, “get with the program already” kind of way. …
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I Insist This Is A Love Story: For SheLoves Magazine
I insist this is a love story. I was twelve or 13, and I was in bed, crying, because earlier that day, I looked down at one of the desks I passed in class, and saw I hate Heather gouged into the wood with a blade. I was hoping my mom would hear my crying that night. …
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How Failure Saved My Soul
One day in grad school, Sandra, my creative writing professor, handed back a draft of one of my stories. “The story has a lot of potential, Heather,” she said. “But I think you could develop more compassion for your characters.” I nodded, but my heart sank. Sandra was my favorite professor, and I’d learned her …
Why do you call me good?
The other day I got an email from a reader about a really hard situation with her in-laws. She has been through a financial hell because of them, and they are completely unrepentant and unconcerned about it. In fact, they blame her for everything. She worried that she sounded like “a bad daughter in-law.” Her words …
What Am I Willing To Do For Wholeness? For SheLoves Magazine
When my sister Katie was 22, she took a job as a preschool teacher at a Christian church. She laughed, blithely, as she told me about it in one of our sporadic phone calls. She was in charge of twenty three-year-olds for a full day. Most of her students had not been fully potty trained. …
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Revelation Is Not A Guarantee–for The Mudroom
For a three-month stretch when I was seven or eight, I tried to learn how to pray. When I couldn’t sleep, I’d pull a children’s prayer book down from the shelf and move it to the crack of light that shone in from the hallway. I opened it up to the Lord’s Prayer and read …
Waiting instead of doing: The beauty of the Advent ache
I wrote some Advent reflections back in summer and fall, because I feel too overwhelmed in the holiday. This year, apparently, I decided to write about emotions–the lack of them, or having the kind we don’t want. Also, wow: I am a little melancholic at Christmas. I hope it provides space for you to let …
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Endurance Is Not Cold Tolerance: for The Mudroom
When I was a new mom, I read that children go through periods of equilibrium and disequilibrium that last about six months each. I kept hoping my daughter was nearing the end of a period of disequilibrium. After all, my sweet girl had been pushing all my buttons for months with expert grace, and she was about to have her …
Please Do Not Touch Me–for SheLoves Magazine
“Rub the Buddha belly, Rylee,” my older sister, Katie, said to her daughter. Rylee smiled up at me and gingerly put her hand on the crest of my pregnant abdomen. She moved it back and forth, with a hesitant, irritating judder. I smiled, but had to grit my teeth to not swat her hand away. …
Being a good girl hamstrung my calling
The email slipped into my inbox with no fanfare a few years ago. A name I didn’t recognize, a cryptic subject. Curious, I opened it, but it took me a minute to figure out what the woman who sent it was asking. Basically: I like your work. Have you ever thought of publishing a book? …
My child, my backpack, and the long days of motherhood
When my daughter Lucy was three, I decided to get intentional about her education. I wanted to homeschool long-term, but knew I was not an ideal candidate: I like quiet, order, and long-range projects. I also felt a little cuckoo stuck at home. With 18 hours a day to kill, I counted the days until fifth …
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I Did Not Want to Go to My Grandmother’s Funeral for The Mudroom
The night my already-sick grandma took a turn for the worse, my husband asked if I thought I’d go to her funeral. “Oh, hell no,” I said, without thinking. He looked startled, there in our bathroom. We were getting ready for bed, letting our bodies slow down for the end of the day. But now my heart …
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Am I ashamed of my privilege and wealth?
When my sister would come home from the children’s home on visits, the first thing we would do was show each other our stuff. I watch my children doing this with friends: a sort of inventory-as-friendship. After all, until you know what’s exciting and fresh and new, how can you decide what to play? So …
Learning to Choose Well Even When I’m Afraid
My mistake was hurrying. Of course, I had good reason to hurry. At my daughter’s art class I’d missed three phone calls in a row from my husband. He was home with our youngest. When I called back, no one was there to pick up. He was supposed to be there. Where was he? What had happened? …