Me Made Over.

 "She looks just like her Momma."

"She has your smile."

"She is YOU made over."

These are phrases that I seem to be hearing more and more each day.

But it feels like the first time every single time I hear them.

I've been a Momma for 8 1/2 years now, but it seemed like all I ever heard was how much the boys looked just like their daddy.

And I was perfectly okay with that.

I happen to think that their daddy is pretty darn good looking or I probably wouldn't have married him and wanted to have his babies.

I dreamed of having little boys that just like him.

And I have two of them, and couldn't be prouder of that.

But then came this little girl.

And for the first little part of her life, we weren't sure who she looked like-

but we knew that she looked just like Knox.

And since Knox looks just like Justin, I guess that meant that she looked like Justin, too.

But lately, she looks a whole lot like her Momma.

And that makes me happy.

Even though I really can't always see it, it makes my heart smile.

It surprises me each time, almost every single day, when someone comments on how much she looks like me,

mainly because I think she's the most beautiful thing that I've ever laid eyes on.

And like most women, I've never thought that about myself.

But that smile...

Yea, she really does have my smile.

And the way her eyes dance when she's happy?

I've been told that mine do too.

And her 10,000 crazy expressions (she is the most expressive child)?

Apparently they come from her Momma as well.

And you should hear the girl tell a story.

I have friends that have literally took an actual seat when I've started to tell a story because they knew it was going to take me a while.

She mimics her Momma there, too.
Her stories are long, and never lack details, and she can talk with her hands with the best of them.

It makes my heart giddy to hear her tell me stories.

 

She walks around the house with her baby doll on her hip, and either her cell phone or her camera in her hand.

I'll take credit for that.

She's an entertainer at heart.  The girl loves to make people laugh, and she loves to be around people that think she is funny.

I'll take credit for that one too.

And the sweet way that she squints her eyes when we pray, and she reaches out to hold whoever's hand is next to her-

Well, I really would like to take credit for that one, but that's simply the grace of God.

But the way she closes her eyes when she sings,

I'm claiming that.

And the way she lifts her little hand in the air during certain songs, even though she has no clue what worship really is-
I humbly say that she's seen that in me.

Sometimes when she's praying out loud she fake cries...

Because she's seen and heard me cry when I pray.

And it's funny, and cute, and precious-

and I love it so much.

But sometimes she has a really bad attitude.

Sometimes she doesn't get enough sleep, or she's hangry,

or she just yells at her brothers for no other reason than because they are on her nerves.

Sadly, she gets that from me too.

And tonight while we were in the shower she got mad at me because I wouldn't let her use the entire full bottle of baby shampoo.

Her crying fits are always ear piercing (she's a soprano, for sure), 

but when they were echoing off of the shower walls- Oh. My. Gracious...

Yea, that's probably me.

I don't yell and scream, but boy do I want to, sometimes.

I don't always set the best example.

But I do want to.

I want to be the best example for her.

Because not only does she look like me, but she acts like me, and she wants to be like me.

And the only way that I can do that is to mimic my Heavenly Father.

I want to be like Him, because she wants to be like me.

I want Paxton to be a woman that can someday sit around the dining room table with a group of friends doing Bible Study and say, "God's Word is important to me because I saw how important it was to my Mom...

I learned how to pray because I saw my Mom pray about everything.
My Mom taught me to love Jesus more because of the way she loved me.

My Mom showed me Jesus."

Follow me, Paxton Grace.  It's okay that you are "me" made over.  Because I'm going to keep striving with all that I am to be more and more like Jesus.  I want to be HIM made over.

Kindergarten & Third Grade. Hard & Beautiful.

 

 Sometimes you have the right words to express exactly how you feel.

And sometimes you don't have words at all.

And when days like when your little baby boy starts kindergarten happen- 

that is one of those days that you just don't have words.

Especially when you don't expect it to bother you too much, 

because you've done this before when his big brother started kindergarten.

You've stood in these shoes before.

And you still have one more baby at home that will start kindergarten someday {too soon}.

So this one really won't bother you because you've done it before, and you'll also do it again.

But then you drop him off at school,

and he's so big and so brave,

and you pull away doing the ugly cry and not caring who knows it.

Because your little baby boy started kindergarten today,

and life will never be the same.

 And his brother, the crazy-tall, handsome, suddenly grown up looking child?
He started third grade today too.

And you're not sure how you got here so quickly either.

Because it was just yesterday that you were doing the ugly cry when you left him at kindergarten for the first time.

And now he's this grown up kid.

And he is a light in this dark world.

And you couldn't be more proud of him, no matter what.

So, sometimes you have words.

But sometimes you don't.

And sometimes you need to borrow words from someone whose words are better than yours.

 "So, yeah, parenting is hard & beautiful,

and very, very hard & very, very beautiful,

and sometimes you just get down on the floor and weep 

and there's no shame in it--

tears just saying we're loving deep.

 

Parenting is hard, not because we're getting it wrong,

but because we're getting to do holy work--

holy work is the hard work.

That's the miracle of parenting--

labor never stops & we never stop having to remember to breathe.

 

Maybe brave & beautiful parenting comes down to us all being in this together,

us all needing grace together.

Parenting is this way of bending over in humility to help the scraped child up because you yourself know it takes a lifetime to learn how to walk with Him.

And all the parents exhaled...

and our every breath calls for You to come, Lord, please come.

Come help us to labor over these beloved children, 

that they'd deliver into the whole expanse of Your fulfilling grace-

& never forget their name: Beloved."

-Ann Voskamp

 

Yea, because sometimes you have words.

And sometimes you don't.

But this Mom thing? It's almost always hard.

But it is assuredly always beautiful.

I couldn't be prouder of you kids.

Let your little lights shine like there's no tomorrow.

I'll be cheering you on!