I was watching my husband play the piano on the platform, he is the band leader at our church currently. This is not a new experience for me; it has been a part of my life since I started dating Tim Clements, music is in his DNA and everywhere he goes it finds a place. And once again his knowledge, experience and ability are needed and once again it brings a foundation for other musicians of varying abilities and experiences to find their place on a church platform being a part of the whole, the team, which is always greater than the individual talent. I thought this part of our life was over, that he would now just play on occasion to fill a need but here he is again called into service because it is needed, because he is needed.  

Tim was inclusive before there was such a word or movement. He always finds people who want to play or sing but have not before been invited in because of limitations but with Tim they find themselves welcome and wanted…these were my thoughts and for a few minutes before  turning my heart back to worship I just let them wander down these roads thinking about this man I have lived all of my adult years beside and thinking how I never tire of seeing him walk into a situation that needs stabilizing, revitalizing or renewal and in his way make space for new life.  

When we got in the car to go home, I turned to him and said I have something I want to say to you. We have a lot of important conversations in the car because we love a car ride and the time it allows for meaningful words.  And I said to my (words of affirmation) husband all the words and thoughts that had come to mind that morning as I watched him play the piano. All the words that are especially meaningful when the person who knows you best and most says them to you. I saw that slow sexy smile start to spread across his face and I ended what I had to say with “I see you Tim Clements, I see you.” 

Later that afternoon in our-at-home clothes, having snacks and watching the playoff games something happened in a play that evoked a comment filled with disgust on my part that made Tim laugh and then he had to defend the player that made the mistake. And in so doing told me a story about himself he had never told me. I know that is true because I would have remembered this story.  

We have been married for 38 years, and together for 40 years. We have watched hours and hours of football and had 7 years of Friday night lights with our sons and in all that time he had never told me this story. I couldn’t believe it! Instantly some very significant things made sense, even some small things made sense. It was personal and attached to it a little pain, disappointment, and the longing for something wanted that could not be.  

I thought about it for days after what had sparked his ability to share it in that moment. It’s not like the “Cheryl” (Remember the Titans) in me hadn’t reacted in this same way lots of times on the field and in our home sitting in our rockers watching football.

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Was it because of his age and life perspective that he could now reveal it? 

Was it because it no longer mattered in the way it may have once mattered?  

Was it because he likes teaching me about football stuff so much that he was willing to share it now.  

Or maybe had I with my words earlier in the day about how much I admire him and respect him combined with the things above created a safe enough space for him to share this story with me because it could not diminish all I think and feel for him. It cannot be coincidental that they occurred on the same day.  

It was another precious gift given to deepen and strengthen a bond already unbreakable. These kinds of gifts must be honored and protected.

It reminded me again how important saying the words we need to say to our spouse is and how continuing to be the safest place in their lives to share when they are required to let go of dreams, when they have to share the disappointments and inadequacies, we all have and the outcome of those in the day to day living. We love to tell the stories from when we were the most beautiful, the most talented, the best at things or when we were so cool because they are filled with light and color, it is fun to relive them.  

The moments that we experienced being less, feeling less are the hardest to talk about so they stay tucked away until all the right elements come together and then in an unexpected moment, they are provoked out of us.  

I think the secret to long term marriage and relationships is the tender vulnerability with which we give and receive parts of ourselves that can be challenging to give. The investment begins when we say the things, we think out loud so the other person really knows all that we value about them and that those thoughts are the root of our true feelings for them and our commitment to them.
In a world full of harsh, critical, damaging words the best gift we can give on Valentine’s Day are words that build and strengthen the heart and souls of those we love.

I don’t remember where I got them only when. We were living in Southern California, and it was becoming clear that Myke’s Brown-eyed-girl was going to be our first daughter-in-law. I was in a beachy shop when I saw them and they were on clearance super cheap and really good quality and I got a great idea about how I would use them for my adult children, so I bought 4, 2 silver and 2 my favorite color of teal.  Taylor had not met his Floridian yet so I didn’t know who the bucket was for, but I knew I would need one for her whoever she would be. I packed them away for just the right time. I had not had them long when our world began to look like a very scary roller coaster ride.

Over the next year we moved 5 times and by the time we met the Floridan we were living in an apartment in Northern California, and it was becoming clear that my youngest Son would probably never leave the East Coast, He would move north to North Carolina but not west to California. I had packed and unpacked those buckets several times and never used them not even once. My original plan for them I knew would not be but somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to use them, and they sat in the garage amongst some watering cans on my storage shelf.

When you are raising your children, creating, and crafting a family some of those decisions are rooted in the dreams you have for what that family will look like in the future, but the truth is the reality is often quite different than those dreams, or reels or social platform perfections. Children have their own dreams and if you have encouraged them to live those out…they just might take you up on it. I have worked hard to hold my children with open hands and accept what is rather than what I wish could be so why not use the buckets? Why leave them in pristine condition on the top shelf of the storage shelf? Maybe it was like holding on to the last vestiges of hope that what I had longed for originally could still be? I am sure the true emotions around it are complex and complicated and even if I chose to explore them further, when I chose to explore them further that will be private and not for public consumption. So, the buckets stayed where they were until 2 days before our Pismo trip this year.

We hadn’t been to Pismo with both sons and their families since October of 2019 and it would be River’s first trip. He hadn’t even been born when we all went last time. So as any Mimi worth her salt I had bought walkie talkies from the dollar spot at Target, I had created cute lids on Mason Jars with their initials on laminated paper in the lids so they could take some clam shells home because the clams are back and the shells on the beach now are plentiful. I hadn’t gotten anything to collect the shells because the grand girls had these little wagons, and I knew they would share with their cousins. 

I knew I would end up pulling the little wagons because they would be busy running to find shells and scrambling away from the waves. I was so looking forward to the 4 of them being altogether and looking for shells and building sand castlesish looking things and maybe the 2 oldest would try the boogie boards. All that was left to do was pick up Taylor’s family from the airport the next morning.

Funny how a simple text can start you down a road you had not considered…It simply said “Olivia is worried about not having anything to collect the shells in because their little wagons are all busted up. I told her Mimi probably has that covered…Do you?”

It’s October and I was so tired that the idea of going to the store gave me hives but a Mimi shows up for her grand girl no matter what, right?

I walked out to the garage and looked at the buckets, 2 silver for the boys and 2 teal for the girls in pristine condition waiting to be called into duty.  I knew they could take the abuse that 4 kids ages 2 to 5 could give and I knew they were the prefect solution, but it meant letting go of what I had originally bought them for and using them for something current, it meant embracing what is in the now and seeing it for the beauty it is.

I took them down from the shelf and with permanent marker wrote their names on the bottom. Moving forward and being grateful that I had these beautiful things to give my Grands! I put the other items I had for them inside and packed them up.

They were delighted with my Pismo surprises. The walkie talkies didn’t last long, and the jars waited to be filled with the final shell choices, but the buckets served every purpose you can imagine.

• Shells from the sand were carried in them, the little wire handles perfect for little hands.
• Sand was loaded into them and poured out over and over.
• Many trips to water’s edge to be filled and dragged up the beach to whatever it was they were creating, none of it ever looked like a sandcastle but imaginations were on over drive, and they played so well together.

Those buckets held memories too, tons of new memories, forever memories. I hauled 2 of them up to the fresh water spigot to clean the final round of shells that they would sift through to take home and smiled as I thought about the 4 of them holding something up for me to see.

I taught them to throw the closed whole clams back into the water and we should only keep the ones that are open.

The buckets did all the things they were built for and so much more.

When the week was over the teal ones were taken home by the girls filled with shells and their mom washed and cleaned the shells according to good intel she had found online, and each girl took a shell to school for each of their classmates.  The silver buckets were cleaned and put back in the sand toy tub after the boys had picked a few shells for their mason jars to take back to North Carolina and the buckets will be here for the next time they come to go to Pismo Beach.

Those buckets that I bought for one dream became the useful tool of creating a wonderful now and new tangible memories.

Living in and celebrating what is and letting go of what will never be is freeing. Expectation can be a tough task master and the stealer of current joy. Sometimes just letting what is “be” even if it poses emotional challenges is filing those buckets with the unexpected and miraculous.

Last Saturday I was just feeling the need to get out for a bit, the weather was beautiful, and I just wanted to go somewhere that wasn’t home, a common feeling for many of us in the last year. So, we decided to take a little drive to Sutter Creek, saunter through the cute little shops, have a bit of lunch and head for home. We arrived, put our name on a list at a restaurant where they told us they would call us when our table was ready and off, we went masks in place to wander through the little shops of Sutter Creek.

          We made our way up to the vintage garden store I love at the top of the street. Having found some old pieces of wood we talked over some ideas for their use and tried to find the prices but the owner and had just left and the woman managing the store didn’t know how much the pieces were, so we left our name and number and moved onto to a new store across the street.

The store was so charming, as I moved into the large room where the woman who owned the shop was standing behind the checkout counter that’s when I saw it an all-wood beautiful hall tree in my color of teal. It had all the elements I had been searching for and the price was unbelievably reasonable. It was beautiful. I had been playing with the idea of trading out the bench and other pieces I used to create an entry way in our little rental house, some of these pieces have been in the last 7 places we lived. The white bench and other pieces were washed out in this rental with walls the color of chewed gum. But thinking about this kind of change and making this kind of change is a big deal for someone like me. I keep the same furniture and accessories for 25 or 30 years. And now the possibility was staring me in the face. We touched it, asked questions about how it was made and just kept looking at it. Then Tim’s phone buzzed, and it was time to go eat, I asked the woman who owned the shop how late would she be open, and she said until 6:00 pm and we thanked her for her time.

We took our seat at the table and looked at the menus and listened to the loud talking all around us, we were in Amador county and this restaurant had in door dining with the tables distanced so there was no one close to us even so it was still pretty loud, I think people may have forgotten how to act in restaurants, you are not at home where you can just yell into the kitchen or other rooms to get people’s attention. We ordered our food and started talking about the hall tree and my little white bench. Through tears I talked about the possibility of getting rid of the bench and said that is not something I can just take to goodwill or put up for sale on whatever site I could make some money. This bench has history, our family history and all the notches and marks are connected to so many events, moves and moments in our lives.

          I bought the bench for the rental house we lived in on Stoughton Way in Sacramento in the mid 90’s. We had a pony wall in the kitchen that opened into the Den and I wanted the kids to have some place to stand and talk to me when I was cooking. 6-year-old Taylor and I had many philosophical life conversations while he stood on the bench and I cooked dinner.  One of my favorites was when he asked me how he would know when and who to marry. I planted all the right seeds for thought and then he asked me if he could live with us after he got married and I laughed and said that when he was grown up and married, he would want to live in his own house and then he asked if he could live next door and I said of course, and the irony is he now lives across the Country. But I can still see his cute face looking so serious and talking to me about all these serious things…standing on the bench…my little while bench.

The bench I found at Pier 1 on clearance and even on clearance I agonized over the price. But felt so victorious when I finally brought it home.  The bench that has held back packs of various sizes, and a collection of purses and most recently diaper bags, shoes, and other paraphernalia belonging to the 4 Grands. It has been the piece of furniture that greeted us as we returned from somewhere and the place, we put things as we were preparing to leave, and it bears the marks of holding all those things.

Mychal and Allison have just moved into their own apartment with the girls after having lived with Allison’s parents for more than 2 years and I thought maybe they would like the bench for their cute little balcony. So, I sent a quick text to both, and Mychal responded with “OH” I think he thought I would never give that up but then I sent a question mark and he answered right away “Yes!” they wanted it and not long after Allison responded with a resounding yes also. As we were texting back and forth Mychal called the bench an heirloom and I made sure Allison knew I had bought it at Pier 1 and wasn’t sure if that qualified as an heirloom or not but Myke said once it gets passed from one generation to the next it is an heirloom.

I loved that they wanted it and It made moving forward with the new piece even more doable. I was still a bit teary and indecisive when the biggest sandwich ever was served to Tim and that made me laugh and I was taking pictures and he was trying to figure out how to eat it. We walked back to the shop and looked again at the new piece and I just couldn’t leave it there. Funny how once I knew the bench had a home, it removed the excuses to not move forward.

We brought it home and moved the bench into the guest room and put the new hall tree in its place and realized that the basket that held blankets and was also about 25 years old didn’t work with the new piece. And the all-white hat rack that I have had for at least 15 years wasn’t going to work either. One change often requires more change doesn’t it?

Now decisions about these treasured pieces had to be made.

The basket there was no salvaging it had to be replaced. It probably should have been replaced long ago because getting the blankets in and out of it required a bit of a wrestling match. I found a new black wire basket at Target that was perfect, a really different style for me yet somehow totally me, now.

 But the white hat rack just needed to be reimagined with a coat of flat matte black paint which transformed the piece, there was dimension and character in the old hat rack that hadn’t been there in white. This is the dance of change something brand new requires the removal of some things but just the reimagining of others.

This is the dynamic of change whether it is change that is sought, forced or just the natural next step, it brings with it the push and pull of loving what has been but wanting to move forward with what could be. A single change is often multifaceted in the ripple effect it creates but like my entryway once all the changes have been made the new is often even more than we had hoped it would be.

          I was on spring break last year when we got the announcement that we would not be returning to school after break, and this was the beginning of all the changes to come because of the pandemic and like dominoes one thing affected the other. Some things had to be discarded completely (like big stadium events) and other things had to be reimagined (like schools) but all around with each wave of challenge that 2020 brought change was the constant and the norm not the unusual. Cultural upheaval, political upheaval, workplace fluidity, personal loss, challenge and change too. And now in 2021 as the vaccines roll out and the numbers of those getting COVID drops, and more and more people survive we are going to face a wave of a change again.

          We will say we are returning to what was, back to normal and back to the life we miss but are we? Can we ever return to who we were before 2020? Can return to that life and that sensibility ever again? We are not just moving on, how could we? We have learned things and seen things and experienced things we never anticipated and that has changed us. In some ways for the better or not I guess that is up to us.

          I don’t want to return to who I was before 2020 because I learned to lean into my faith and relationship with the God in new ways and I learned the level of resiliency I have. How creative I became and the courage that it took to stay grounded to what I know is true. The self-control it took to not engage in ridiculous online rhetoric but to walk, pray and think about what was going on around me. To speak life to those around me and to know that like so many other things in my life God was with me and that He would carry me to the other side and that I would arrive just as He planned in the way he crafted just for me.

Tim spent the last couple of days putting a clear coat onto the white bench so it could sit on the kids little balcony and I helped him load it into my car I thought about how cute it is and what was I thinking letting it go…it is the humanity in us to look back and feel for a moment longing for what has been, change is still hard even when it is wanted…but then I walked into the house and looked at the new entry way that works better for this house, for our needs now and felt joy. The little white bench will have a new place and be used in the way my kids and grand girls decide and I have a new entryway much better suited to this house.

          It is the valuing what has been and moving forward into what will be that makes the most sense. I think it is important to do that with this last year from March 2020 to March 2021. Value what this time has taught us, the work it did in us be ready for the adjustments of the next phase of moving life forward. Not exactly back to what it was because that is gone forever but valuing what mattered from before and bringing it into moving forward while accepting what was can never be again but what will be new and with new comes possibility.

I was standing in the back of my classroom (so I could see the screens) scrolling social media on my muted phone while my students completed a timed activity when I saw the announcement: Rascal Flats planning their farewell tour. What? One of our favorite groups whose music we had traveled by on so many trips was ending their time together. A last tour to say goodbye and thank their legion of fans for their loyalty. I can still remember when Tim showed me the band on his phone covering a Foreplay/Longtime/Free Ride medley. I was sad as I forwarded the news to Tim. As sometimes happens when the end of an era comes, and you are in your late 50 somethings I began to ponder what comes next? What will they do now that they made their wildest dreams come true and they are still young enough to dream another dream or have a second act?

What would that be like to have accomplished every achievement possible and now have enough money to do whatever you want, nothing to prove, leap knowing you had a huge net to catch you if you failed. Jay Demarcus is going home to his Christian roots to start his own Christian record label.

It started that reflective process in me, you know the one about your life and where you are and how do you feel about that and is there time for something more. It took me back to that place of longing, that secret thing you keep hidden and don’t ever talk about because it doesn’t really seem possible anymore. And quite frankly you’re not even sure you’re willing to make the sacrifices for it even if it was. I always wanted to preach/teach to women at a national level. And twice in my life I was in places that might have had enough of a platform that it maybe could happen, but life has its curves and changes eventually I found myself in a place where there was no platform at all. I put that dream away and focused on survival and doing what is at hand. I know all the motivational speakers teach You-can-be-anything-you-want-to-be and it is never too late but that is simply not true some things do have an expiration date. So, I rolled in that space for a bit because once it starts you have to ride the wave of what-ifs and if-onlys until life’s distractions and responsibilities demand you live in the present.  

I was asked by our retiring LEA Union Rep to consider stepping into her shoes next year because I care about teachers and stand with them as a department head. I talked to my principal about the possibility and what did he think? He said, “I was the one who encouraged Martha to ask you.” I thought that was funny and after talking it over with Tim I agreed to serve in that capacity. It is an important and meaningful way to fill that “I want a little something more” it’s not sexy or cool and it isn’t the kind of platform that nets you followers, but it is valuable. I went to my first meeting about contract negations and made my first suggestion to the group that would update their process, they followed my suggestion and the outcome was impactful. That was satisfying and I was content to have made a difference.

I was in the middle of prepping my sermon for our church, we are in a series on Ordinary People Extra Ordinary God and I was assigned Abigail whose interaction with David during a pivotal moment his life is one of my favorite stories and the current relevancy of it makes it always fun to teach. It is a smaller platform but a very satisfying one to teach to the whole body (men and women) on a Sunday morning a handful of times a year on a preaching team with my husband. Our church is about 250 people and it is a lovely place to share my experience and insight from a biblical standpoint with them. When the media team posts the sermon on the church website, my Son reposts it on mine as a podcast. And sometimes I post a link on social media…sometimes I forget. On a small platform that is more than enough until the if-onlys and what-might-have-been thoughts wake you in the dark part of the night. It’s easy to dismiss small platforms, to compare the few responses to what you have shared with the world to the “Viral” responses of others or the influencers who have astronomical numbers of followers. Or to wonder if your limited efforts are even worth the time to share it at all.

And then God steps in and shows you that there are no small platforms in His design that He uses all of our efforts, all of our gifts to make changes and add to the lives of others. Because as only God can do, He takes the smallest offering and does the mightiest of things. The most extraordinary things. As I stepped off the stage after speaking on Abagail a member of the body was waiting to talk to me. His words were simple “That was for me today, I am in a situation so similar and I got the exact direction I needed, thank-you.” Not a small thing to this life.

The next Saturday as I sat drinking my coffee and watching the grand girls play on my living room floor I got a messenger notification from someone who had friended me which I had accepted the night before even though I didn’t recognized the name. Sometimes people read something I wrote or listen to a podcast and then friend me, so I accepted. I opened the note and read that the woman who contacted me was in our first youth group in the 80’s in a small foursquare church in Concord CA, she shared a story of how we had impacted her life then and that now she was a pastor’s wife in a church in FL. She went on to explain she had been studying to speak at a Mother/Daughter Brunch and looking for resources online found my sermon on “The Guardrail of Gratitude” and had used some of the concepts for her presentation and then finally made the connection that I was the same Kim Clements from Concord. She shared the connection with the ladies that morning and thanked me for our impact in her life. I was flabbergasted at how she had even found that sermon. How is that even possible? Surprised once again how small the world really can be.  I looked up their church and it looks like it is a thriving growing body. I still have the message on my phone because I am still processing the wonder of it.

The very next Sunday I was sitting in my normal pew waiting for church to start when my pastor stopped to share something with me. He gave me very little detail wanting to respect the privacy of the parishioners who had shared their story with him but wanted me to know that there had been in the morning services on the day I taught about Abigail parishioners that were facing weighty choices that could result in serious repercussions and when the service was finished they decided to seek help instead of continuing on their current path. What was even more impactful was he cited a particular section of the sermon that had caught their attention, I was astonished by that revelation because that particular section had started rolling around in my heart on the Friday before so I got up on Saturday and reedited what I had prepared. It was a part of the final edit and I was second guessing it even as I walked onto the platform on Sunday morning but taught it anyway.  I was weak in the knees just thinking about what if I had missed it? Not responded to that nudge and change of focus.

There are no small platforms with God, only man. Scripture reminds us over and over that He cares for the one. He comes for the one. To partner with God for the one is the biggest platform of all and perhaps the only platform that matters.

“What’s nine? Mom” It took a minute for the question to register because I was sitting on the floor surrounded by my kids and the grands watching the Raiders lose and eating Round Table Pizza lots of my favorites altogether at once. A rare day in our lives now and I was just breathing in every second. But I knew exactly what he was asking me. Meghan Joy had arrived safe and sound and now our little clan was 9.

I have always shaped and referred to our family as a team because I believe kids need to know that they are a part of something that is bigger than themselves, that who they are represents who we are as a family. Each individual contributes to the whole or detracts from it. So when they were teenagers I started referring to us as the Fantastic Four. Not as a point of pride but as a point of responsibility, that together we can make a difference in the world in the way we conduct ourselves and in living out our faith in a concrete way.
So first the Fantastic Four…then the Fab Five when Mychal found his Allison…the Spectacular Six when Taylor found his Niana…The Magnificent 7 when our first grand Judah Gabriel was born…the Great Eight when Olivia Jo made her rather dramatic arrival. And now Mychal was asking me what 9 was? I answered I hadn’t really decided because I hadn’t found one I liked yet I had considered Nifty but that word felt a little to old fashioned to me. And so everyone started throwing out ideas that either rhymed or were alliterative and we finally came to noble or divine but we didn’t pick one because with a beautiful new born and 2 very busy toddlers in the house it is easy to get distracted.

But I have been thinking about it since that day and reliving many of the moments since our little Meghan was born and our time together and trying to choose one that represents Meghan and our family now.

The moment I walked into the hospital room and saw Allison holding Meghan in her arms I realized that I had been kind of holding my breath. I had been praying throughout the day that the C section delivery would go smoothly and that the baby would be healthy with no complications because I just didn’t think our family could face that again. One NICU baby is all any family can handle. But once you have been there you just can’t exhale until you know for sure that you are not going there again. I think I was still in exhale mode when Mychal asked me if I wanted to hold her and on the day she was born I held Meghan Joy in my arms…Divine.

A few minutes later Olivia Jo arrived with Allison’s parents and we all watched as she saw her little sister for the first time. We got a picture of the 4 of them and after a bit were off to feed Mychal before taking Olivia home with us for a couple days. We had dinner in a darling little Mexican restaurant downtown and talked about the day’s events and the gratitude we felt that everything was perfect with our little Meghan while Olivia charmed everyone around her. Then we loaded her up and took her to our house for her first ever sleep over at Mimi and Pops house…Divine.

A few short days later after working 5 hours in the morning on Thanksgiving Day, Taylor and his family got on a plane and flew to California so we could all be together for Thanksgiving and to meet Meghan Joy.
5 hours on a plane with a very active 18 month old on a holiday.
This is love, this is family. On Friday Mychal and his family of 4 made the trek to our home for our Thanksgiving Feast. Allison only 7 days out from a C section and pumping every 2 or 3 hours, they brought everything they needed so they could stay the whole day so we could have this very precious time together…Noble.

We were altogether, leaning in and taking turns holding Meghan and playing with Judah and Olivia. I had done as much ahead of time as I could so I wouldn’t miss anything and I wanted to take the load off of all of these young parents because I remember those days of sleeplessness and toddlers who never sit still and how hard it is to travel with little ones. So I set the table, cooked and got everything ready. And even though I knew it would be fast and furious to all sit around the table with  2 toddlers, I still wanted that moment and that is about what we had because a few minutes in Meghan woke up and wanted to be fed. I had finished eating so I told Allison I would take her so she could eat and enjoy her meal. I did most of the cleanup and played with the toddlers too. This was my gift of love to them because I wanted to serve my family and honor all the efforts they had made so we could be together. Later in the evening I was in the kitchen alone and Taylor walked in and hugged me tight and said “I saw you Mom, I saw you taking care of everyone, all the work you did to make today so special. I saw you Mom. It was a great Thanksgiving day and I want you to know I saw all you did for us.” As Mychal was leaving later in the evening, he stood in the garage with me and hugged me tight and said “It was a wonderful Thanksgiving, Mom! Really a great day!” and he was off to get his family home. Those 2 moments, those words from my Sons to me…Divine.

It can be challenging to come together after being apart for so long, after life changes the dynamics of a family. Children added, life circumstances that look different and changing approaches to faith, politics and social awareness and I was proud of my family for not letting any of that rule the day. There was a minor dust up over pro-apple-juice vs anti-apple-juice but no blood was drawn or heat ignited and the principle players were soft and respectful in their opinions and then returned to their corners. This is the stance families should take when it comes to time together on the holidays and other special family days. Focus on the common ground and the history you share. Reserve difficult conversations and dealing with serious matters that are challenging for times that have been primarily arranged to do just that. Those things can be done at appointed times when everyone is ready to go to those painful places and are ready to do the work needed to heal, move forward or make hard choices.
Special days are for sharing the beauty of who we are together.
Judah and Olivia gave us a good example of this when sitting in the high chair Judah shared his pumpkin pie with Olivia (who had already had some pie) as she stood in front him. The picture of Judah spoon feeding Olivia will be with me always. It was a great moment and I hope the beginning of a fun friendship and deep bond between cousins…Noble.

But it is often the unexpected moments that you prayed would happen but cannot be orchestrated because authenticity and genuine interaction is what gives them life. On Sunday afternoon after the game was over the guys and I took the toddlers out for a walk, Olivia in her stroller and Judah walking in between, on, and around his Dad and Uncle. I was out ahead of them and so I don’t know how the conversation started but when I caught snippets of it I smiled to myself. So I stayed out in front  to give them privacy but close enough to overhear a bit too, it’s what Moms do.

It is hard when your adult children are in different life spaces, especially when the older brother is living with his in-laws, has lost a job and just had a second child very close to the first and the little brother owns his own home, and was promoted 3 times in the last year. How will that feel when they are together? I had been praying about that and honestly worrying about it too.
And all of a sudden they were walking and talking about it. Mychal being vulnerable and sharing about the job loss and Taylor being supportive and encouraging. They were sharing this burden together, letting love and relationship lead the way. Never underestimate the power of a quiet walk. Kindness, support and vulnerable truthfulness deepening the conversation and life bond.
Together they were overcoming this life space…Noble and a little Divine too.

I still haven’t decided which word works best for us especially when you look up the definitions it can be a bit intimidating.
Noble besides meaning of royal birth also means having or showing fine personal qualities or high moral principles and ideals.
Divine beside the obvious reference to Deity  also means excellent or delightful. All I know is our time together was delightful and excellent because we chose to be our best selves and we chose peace instead of right. We chose to preserve this time as sacred and we chose to care for each other

. Like all families we have had our growing pains, our moments when we were less than our best. When making room for the new was harder than anticipated and understanding was limited because emotions were not. But those moments are private and not to be shared outside the family because part of forgiving and moving forward is not exposing those moments to public criticism. Love covers and protects.

What I appreciated so much about our time together this Thanksgiving was the effort by each individual to contribute their best self and to offer empathy and compassion to each other.
We were our best selves and that is both Noble and Divine.