Leslie Verner

June 25, 2016

Overcoming Smartphone Addiction

Technology is not the devil, but we don’t need to allow it to be our god, either.

A monarch butterfly sailed on the wind as I sat waiting for my latte at an open-air coffee shop in San Diego. I watched it glide, dip and twirl around the men and women busily setting up tables and canopies for a weekly farmers’ market. Suddenly, I realized that I wouldn’t have noticed this spectacular solo performance just a week ago. Nose-down, scrolling through any number of messages, alerts and notifications on my phone, I would have missed this simple dance on the wind.

The Phone Fast

My husband and I recently took a one week vacation without kids to California to remember each other and ourselves after four years of having babies and before number three’s arrival in a few months. Before leaving for our trip, I tentatively decided that I would bring my phone, but leave it off in my suitcase and just let my husband check my texts and calls every evening. I did have a laptop with me, so I checked email and other social media once or twice a day, but I didn’t have access to the Internet when we were out and about since the laptop stayed back at the cottage.

I was nervous about unplugging. What if I missed something important? How would I be able to post pictures on Facebook immediately? How would I check the weather? What would I do if I needed to wait somewhere with nothing to do?

But after the first morning of my detox, instead of withdrawal, I felt…free. I’ve known for a while now that my phone makes me feel shackled and that it has become an addiction, but I haven’t been sure how to conquer the blessing-turned-curse. After a week of doing without, here are a few changes I’ve made to ensure that I am the boss of my Smartphone instead of my technology lording over me.

3 Ways to Overcome Smartphone Addiction:

1. Sleep with your spouse, not with your phone.

A few weeks ago, I spent my first precious thirty minutes before my children woke up just lying in bed checking Facebook. The night before, I had been on social media in bed long after my husband had fallen asleep. It was then that I knew I needed help. So I started charging my phone at night downstairs in the kitchen instead in our room. I bought a cheap travel alarm clock to replace my phone’s one true reason to even earn a spot in our bedroom. It has been a simple, yet liberating change that is helping me to sleep better at night.

2. Declutter the apps on your phone.

The day we got back from San Diego, I did a bit of “life-changing magic” and tidied up the apps on my phone. Though they “sparked joy,” they were unnecessary if I could just as easily check them on the computer, where I could be in better control of the time I spent on them. I nervously deleted Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, email and even the weather app.

How many times a day do you “quickly” check the weather on your phone and ten minutes later you forget why you even turned on your phone in the first place? That was me. I can check the weather just as easily on my computer in the morning just the way I always did in pre-Smartphone days.

So now, my phone is for texting, taking pictures, reading books, making calls, checking the internet, GPS and listening to music or podcasts.

(A less drastic solution would also be to turn off all notifications for social media or hiding the icons–but I’m sneaky, so that never worked for me.)

3. Start wearing a watch again.

Since my phone has become a permanent fixture on my body, I haven’t needed to wear a wristwatch anymore. But just as the weather app can be a seductive Siren, innocently “checking the time” can steal your precious attention away when you feel you suddenly must find out what those social media notifications could be. And again, twenty minutes later, you return to reality and try and remember why you were looking at your phone in the first place (“Oh yeah—what time is it?”).

~~~

Two Weeks Later

It’s been two weeks since I stripped my phone of its many roles, but so far the change has been glorious. I am so much less tempted to use it to fill any downtime in my day because there isn’t much on there to lure me away anyway. There have been a few times when I’ve craved Facebook and when I open up my phone, I end up clicking on the Kindle app that is now in its place and reading a book instead.

Think of it like ridding your home of junk food and filling it with fruit instead so that when you crave a snack, you’re forced to eat an apple. Kindle for Facebook. It’s rough at first, but then your body starts appreciating the fact that you’re feeding it with substance instead of empty calories and you start to LIKE those apples. I am certainly spending more time reading now that I don’t fall down the Twitter or Facebook rabbit hole.

But more than anything, the greatest aspect of having more limits in place is that I’m forced to pay attention to the world around me again.

On the fourth day of our vacation, I plopped my 27-week-preg-body down on a bench outside of a small museum in a historic town we were exploring, letting my husband continue reading every word of every informational sign as he likes to do. The only place to sit was next to an elderly lady who was people-watching. I joined her and we noticed the huge, gorgeous tree stretching across the lawn.

We made small talk and admired the gaggle of middle-aged Chinese ladies dressed in eclectic and brightly colored clothing, each posing elaborately in front of an old courthouse before replacing their oversized straw hats and continuing on, their high heels clicking on the sidewalk. And once again, I reflected on the fact that I normally would have missed all of this. Before the phone fast, my first instinct would have been to pull out my phone while I waited for my husband to return.

Absorbed in the lives of others on social media, perhaps I would have even forgotten to live my own life. I would have missed the chance to delight in the wonder all around me: watching a butterfly ballet, marveling with the elderly and admiring the hilarity in the scope of humanity.

I know I’m not the only one who struggles with this addiction. I don’t think we need to be radical and throw away our phones or be overly idealistic about the days of before we had all “this technology.” Technology is not the devil, but we don’t need to allow it to be our god, either. Are you ruling your phone or is your phone ruling you? What practical steps can you take to ensure that your phone is a tool of freedom and not a chain of bondage in your life?

Do you have any other ideas on how to break free from Smartphone addictions? I’d love to hear them in the comments!

~~~

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Related Posts:

21 Ways to Live Counter-culturally

A Book for the Budding Minimalist {The More of Less}

KonMari Krazy {The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up}

Previous Post: A Writer’s Prayer

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June 23, 2016

A Writer’s Prayer

My dear Jesus,

As I pull my chair up to the computer to write, I beg that you would not only sit next to me, patting me gently on the back, but actually dip down and draw up words from the well of your Spirit. I pray for your anointing. I want my words to make you smile.

Lord, I’m sorry for competing, comparing myself, and seeking affirmation from others. Forgive me for the pride of exalting myself instead of pointing to you. I confess my blatant ignorance of the suffering of others and the ways I shield myself from their pain so that I can continue in my comfort. Wash me, Lord, and purify my motives for writing.

Thank you for raising up writers to speak truth during days when truth seems like a shimmering mirage. As your daughters and sons, we see through a darkened glass, but it doesn’t mean that Truth is not solid or that it does not exist.

I pray for the boldness to speak up against injustice when I have the opportunity–even when I don’t have a solution.

I pray that fear would never keep me from doing what you have called me to do. Please give me faith to keep moving forward.

I pray that you would pour my boiling anger at rash injustice into the funnel of faith, hope and love. Mold it into a useful tool for building and planting instead of a weapon of violence that only kills, destroys and feeds the fury of hate.

I pray for the strength to do what I can, when I can, and to have grace for myself and others for the things that I am not capable of doing right now.

I pray that I would do my part–tend my small square in the larger tapestry–and write for my community and my people without being overwhelmed by how much more there is to do in the name of justice, hope and love.

I pray for the courage to be vulnerable, authentic and transparent if my openness will free others to feel they are not alone, aid in their healing or empower them to do the next thing. I pray my writing would cost me something.

I pray for the gift of words–dazzling, true, clear, precise words–that will best speak the message you want me to share.

I pray for discipline to write even when I feel tired, uninspired or empty.

I pray for energy to learn, change, grow, admit my weaknesses, beg forgiveness and ask hard questions that may have no obvious answers.

I pray for wide eyes, hearing ears, open hands and a burning heart that come from spending time in the presence of Jesus himself.

I pray for wisdom in choosing the path you have marked for me without getting distracted by the daisy-lined trails that may intrigue, but are not the ones you want me to explore.

I pray for miracles. May your Spirit transform my words–my simple offering of a few loaves and fish–and multiply them to feed the ones (even the one) you intend for them to feed.

I pray for encouragement on the days I want to quit. Please minister to me when I feel depleted and nourish me with even one small crumb of a reminder that I am still on Your Way.

Jesus, thank you for raising up other writers to add their voices to the collective chorus that is singing out boldly for you in the midst of so much pain, hatred and bitterness in the world. Keep our voices sweet, but strong.

Finally, I pray for love.

For “if I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing (1 Corinthians 13: 1-3 NLT).”

Loveless words are empty words. Infuse my words with the purifying fire of your love.

Thank you for calling me to write for such a time as this. Thank you for the few magical moments when I’ve felt that you are pouring words into and drawing them back out of me. I pray that you would keep my voice in tune with yours and fill the earth with even more voices to sing out to you.

I pray that you would give us holy anger, inexplicable wisdom, unshackled hope, compassionate love, endless grace, spirit-fueled power and unpolluted vision as we cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard (Acts 4:20)

Thank you that we are never alone, but that we write with you.

In Jesus’ powerful name.

Amen.

~~~

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Previous Post: A Book for the Budding Minimalist {The More of Less}

Next Post: Overcoming Smartphone Addiction

Related Post: To the Writer Mamas

Check out all the posts in this series here.

On (most) Thursdays this year, I’ll share thoughts, tips and inspiration for writers. I’m not an expert, but hope to seek personal encouragement in this art and want to share with anyone who’s also trying to find their way as a writer. These short posts will come from books, articles, the Bible, my own thoughts, and other people. If you’re new to the series, check out the posts you missed here. Please introduce yourself in the comments–I’d love to meet you and hear your thoughts on writing.

Happy writing!

Leslie

June 20, 2016March 5, 2018

A Book for the Budding Minimalist {The More of Less}

A Book for the Budding Minimalist {A Review of The More of Less by Joshua Becker}

Usually the concept of “minimalism” evokes images of eliminating our creature comforts, meditating in bare white rooms or downsizing to a tiny home in Montana. But in The More of Less, author and blogger, Joshua Becker, sets out to convince us of the paradox that living a minimalist lifestyle will not strip away, but actually enhance the life we were meant to live.

This book is a practical how-to book for the minimalist novice looking to explore the benefits of a simpler lifestyle. As I already agreed with Becker’s concepts of minimalism at the outset, I didn’t need a lot of convincing and personally found the first half of the book to be purely common sense. But the second half of the book offered so much practical advice on how to actually incorporate minimalist ideas into the average American’s life that I found it to be a gem in the midst of so many books now available on this current trend.

Becker humbly incorporates the wisdom of other popular minimalist gurus in his discussion and his bibliography offers a wide range of resources for those looking to do a more in depth exploration of minimalism.

Becker’s clear and relatable writing style gives readers the “guy next door” impression that might empower middle class Americans to feel that they, too, might be able to make some simple changes to their life of excess.

While other currently popular books on minimalism focus on decluttering or organizing possessions, Becker makes a wider sweep and considers how being more intentional about the number of our kitchen utensils, clothes or cars also impacts our family, friends, goals and aspirations to make a difference in the world.

Most other resources about minimalism today focus on the individual benefits to self and the ways we will have happier lives as we purge our possessions, but Becker reveals how having more time and money will enable us to help others through volunteering, giving and generally just having more time for people. Becker points out that our choices to intentionally own less will free up our time and finances so that we can be a blessing to others. This—not just personal happiness—is what he describes as the paradox of “the more of less.” He says, “It’s about having a smaller material lifestyle so you can experience a bigger life, full of passion and purpose. Own less to live more” (212).

If you are looking to live a more counter-cultural lifestyle and transition from feeling controlled to being in control of your possessions, finances and time, then this book is for you.

~~~

I received a free copy of this book from Blogging for Books in exchange for writing this honest review.

**This post contains Amazon Affiliate Links

21 Ways to Live Counter-Culturally

Last Post: Serving Single in China

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June 14, 2016

Serving Single in China

I recently had this essay published in a magazine for singles in Australia called SPAG Magazine. The editor has given me permission to republish it here.

Cowering behind the faded window curtain, I tentatively peered out into the darkness. Another explosion sent me inching deeper into the tiny cinder block apartment for safety. Slowly, logic began to overlap my irrational thoughts. Perhaps the “gunfire” outside wasn’t a group of Chinese militants coming to kidnap the brand new single woman missionary after all. Could it be that maybe—just maybe–it was simply fire crackers to celebrate a traditional festival?

In my five years of living in China, the first night was the most frightening. But as anyone who has done the brave thing has ever experienced, reality often ends up being much tamer than our imagination. So once I began to adapt to my surroundings, many irrational fears fled and left me with confidence. In 2004, God had led me to move across the globe from the U.S. to live alone in China as a single woman missionary.

Here is my story.

Choosing Independence

If I told a psychologist three of my literary role models, they could probably psychoanalyze me fairly well. Anne from Anne of Green Gables, Maria of The Sound of Music, and Jo from Little Women were my heroes. Though each woman eventually married, marriage was never the goal of their lives. Instead, they were strong, independent women who knew what they wanted and refused to let a man barricade the way to their dreams. Like these women, marriage was never my endgame.

I went to a Christian university where many women’s goals were to leave with the famed “M.R.S. degree.” My roommate’s father warned her that if she couldn’t find a man there, she would have a hard time finding one anywhere. Horrified, I vowed I wouldn’t get married during or immediately following college because God had called me to serve Him overseas and I didn’t want anything—or anyone—to get in the way of that call.

My Call to Missions

When I was 16-years-old, a missionary visited our church to share about his family’s work in Uganda. Complete with a slideshow of his children growing up learning how to throw spears and wear war paint, I was enthralled. At the end of his fiery sermon, the pastor did an altar call asking if anyone wanted to “give their life to missions.” Heart burning and hands sweating, I made the trip forward to answer the call.

From that time on, I read every missionary biography I could get my hands on and absorbed myself in the lives of Amy Carmichael, Bruce Olson, Jim and Elisabeth Elliot, George Mueller and Hudson Taylor. I copied Jim Elliot quotes into my journal and practically tackled visiting missionaries so I could find out about their lives. I was enamored with the romantic notion of throwing my whole self into God’s service.

In college, I led the Africa prayer team and signed up for a six month internship in Africa, where I was sure God was calling me to spend my life. My first experience abroad was in Uganda, where I faced culture shock and came up against many of my unrealistic ideals about being a missionary. I was less useful and life overseas was harder than I had anticipated. After returning, I decided that if God wanted me to live abroad, then He would have to make it unmistakably clear. A few years later, God showed me that it was time to go. He led me as a 25-year-old single woman to a three-year commitment—which turned into five–to teach English to college students in China.

Advantages of Being Single

Fear, excitement, hope, anxiety and wonder swirled internally as I prepared to leave for China in July of 2005. I sold my car, quit my teaching job and said goodbye to friends and family. Though I had moments of doubt when skeptical family members would question my decision, I was confident that if God called me to China, then He would be the one to sustain me there.

Once there, God proved that He was more than enough. I was surprised that though the loneliness was acute at times and my marital status was a mystery to the Chinese, who almost always married by the time they were 30, there were so many advantages to serving God as a single woman.

Compared to my married teammates, I had the gift of time. As I only taught about 16 hours a week, I was able to spend the rest of my time learning Chinese, meeting up with fellow teachers and teammates, having students over weekly to teach me to cook Chinese food, exploring the city, visiting my students in their homes in the countryside, and seeking Jesus in the long mornings. I noticed that many expat married women with children were much more isolated as their time was spent homeschooling and creating a cocoon for their family. They often seemed to be much lonelier than I was as they didn’t have time for many other relationships outside of their families.

I soon realized that I felt much more comfortable as a single woman in China than I did back home in the United States. In China, I was a part of a team that felt like family and was always welcome at the table of my Chinese friends. They eventually assumed that single women were the norm in my country, so they didn’t put pressure on me to conform to society the way my friends and family back home did. After summers at home, I was often eager to return to China, where I felt a sense of belonging and like I was more accepted than I was in the church and society during my short stay in the U.S.

Missions: Sacrifice or Privilege?

My teammate and I had many visitors over the years I was in China. Some were friends, others were on “vision trips,” but some came for the sheer purpose of encouraging missionaries on the field. Many times these trips were made up of older married men in ministry with good intentions, but a narrow view. Sitting down to bowls of spicy noodles, they would ask my teammate and me about the “sacrifices” we had made in giving up everything and going to China. I knew they referred to not being married or having a family, the comforts of home and missing out on weddings, births, deaths and life events back home. I could tell they felt sorry for us. Yes, there were sacrifices, but I felt like these men were missing the point. Being in China felt more like a privilege than a sacrifice. There is a supernatural peace that settles in your soul when you know you are right in the center of God’s will. And you don’t want to be anywhere else.

The street I walked down everyday in northwest China.

Luggage, Logistics and Loneliness

In spite of the overall peace and joy I felt, of course I had my moments of wishing I were married. Dealing with luggage on long journeys home and simple life logistics were often pity party triggers. On cross-country train rides, I joked that I wanted a husband so I didn’t have to haul my suitcase up and down the staircases at the train station. On plane trips, I wished I had someone to watch my luggage so I could run to the bathroom instead of having to lug it into the stall with me. It seemed life would be easier with a companion.

But I also longed for a “constant” in my transitory life. If I had someone who knew both my China and U.S. self, I wouldn’t have to go into long explanations with pictures and diagrams to every single person I knew. At least there would be one person who knew me on both sides of the globe.

The biggest internal struggle I had as a single woman was feeling like I was giving up all prospects of marriage by moving to the middle-of-nowhere China. Like Mary Magdalene, who broke her alabaster jar of perfume at Jesus’ feet, I felt that I was sacrificing all hope of marriage. There were only three other foreigners in our entire city: my female teammate and another single male and female from the U.K.—both in their 60’s. Our organization didn’t allow us to date Chinese men, so I knew marriage would have to be a miracle if it was what God wanted for my life.

Missions vs. Marriage

“In your way, in your time, if it’s your will” was always my prayer when I talked to God about my desire for a husband. But in a fight for contentment, I stopped praying about meeting someone. I noticed prayer was sometimes a nice excuse to indulge in fantasizing, so I trusted my mother and other close praying friends to bring my desire before the throne.

When I returned to the states for my brother’s wedding in the middle of my fifth year in China in January of 2010, I had no aspirations of meeting a man. Some friends and I planned to spend the weekend at a cottage and I ended up carpooling with a guy who had mysteriously been included on the guest list. Convinced that if God wanted me to get married, then he wanted me to marry a missionary, I chattered away with this actor from Chicago the entire three hour drive with my guard completely down. No way could he be “the one.” But by the car ride home two days later, I knew I was in trouble. I was falling in love.

On the outskirts of the city where I lived my first three years in China.

Questions about Calling

I flew back to the states in July of 2010 for a year-long furlough, but got married six months into it. Though marriage itself has been easier and better than I expected, I’ve done a lot of soul-searching about what it means to be “called,” guilt over leaving the mission field and grief over giving up the life I thought God was leading me to live.

Though God made it very clear that this was His new plan for me, I still struggled with the fact that marriage and missions seemed to be mutually exclusive in my life. It is much easier to step in to ministry than it is to step out of it. It is even harder when you are trading in your independence and commitment to your call for a man.

Amy Young, a woman in leadership with our organization at the time, was gracious as I apologetically confessed that I was leaving for a man. “Life is long,” she said. In a book she wrote titled Looming Transitions, she elaborated on this idea and said, “This transition will not become the sum of your life…It’s natural for people to mark things in terms of before or after events: graduation, marriage, a certain job, a baby, a painful breakup, a big move, or a serious health issue. But those events don’t become the story. They become a page in the story or possibly the beginning of a new chapter. They join a plot larger than the transition each one creates. Part of staying fertile, then, involves reminding yourself of the bigger picture–the bigger story–that came before and will live on after it” (pg. 37). “You will outlive this season,” she says (pg. 47).

I once met a couple in China who had been leading short term mission trips every summer for 20 years. They were 70-years-old, which meant that they began their ministry when they were 50. They were enjoying the fruits of a long life of walking with Jesus. We have no idea what God wants to do in our lifetime of following Him. The older I get, the more I appreciate the rear view of life more than the forward view because of all the glimpses I see of Jesus on the road with me when I never even realized it.

Looking back, I am thankful for the years that I was single. I am now in my sixth year of marriage and pregnant with my third child. I miss those long mornings in China spent in the presence of Jesus. I miss the days of exploring, wandering and taking time to get to know people without tiny hands pulling me and high pitched voices demanding my attention. I am grateful that I had adventures and grew into my skin before I met my husband so that I knew who I was and who I belonged to before I committed my life to someone else. And I see the wisdom in God leading me home. He knew I had begun to worship my call. In the past few years, he has shown me that I am not called to missions, teaching, art, writing, marriage or motherhood. My first call is to intimacy with Jesus. And nothing compares to intimacy with Him.

Through going, returning, singleness, marriage and motherhood, God has been my anchor. He has consistently reminded me that though my circumstances change, He remains the same. His love is steady and my identity in Him is secure. Just because I am not serving Him as an overseas missionary right now does not change His character or the way He sees me in any way. He is still moving, breathing His Spirit and whispering His plans just as much at home in the states as He was when I lived in China. And it turns out that He—not a man–was my “constant” all along.

References:
Young, A, Looming Transitions: Starting and Finishing Well in Cross-Cultural Service, 1st paperback ed, pp. 37 & 47, Createspace Independent Publishing Platform, USA. 2015

~~~

Used with permission from SPAG Magazine

Here’s the link to this edition of the magazine, which will only be active until the fall: SPAG Magazine (June-August 2016)

~~~

Check out my 31 Day Series on Re-entry!

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Previous Post: My Friends Are Books: Finding More Time to Read

Next Post: A Book for the Budding Minimalist {The More of Less}

Single in China~ The biggest internal struggle I had as a single woman was feeling like I was giving up all prospects of marriage by moving to the middle-of-nowhere China.

June 10, 2016

My Friends are Books: Finding More Time to Read

We’re on vacation this week (without kids!!!) and I’m pretty sure we’ve been to a bookstore every day. The first time we giggled with glee at the fact that we could even aspire to enter a place with so much to pull off the shelf and destroy. Having small children certainly makes you appreciate the perks of a quiet, adult life. We’ve also spent a ton of time just reading. For hours. It’s been divine.

My husband and I call books our “friends.” When we decided to declutter and minimize our possessions before our move last year, my husband sifted through more than one thousand of these old pals to choose which ones to say goodbye to. It was a painful parting.

Just as any relationship evolves, so, too, our on-going affair with reading. I was that kid in elementary school, narrowly missing smacking into other students as I walked the hallways with my head buried in a book. I read billboards, cereal boxes at breakfast and shampoo bottles in the shower. Anything with words would do.

I inherited this lifelong love from my mom, an ardent book lover. She drove my dad batty on family vacations. While weaving through forests of giant trees, beside chattering brooks and over gigantic mountains exploding with wild flowers, he’d nearly veer off the road with his rubber-necking, while my mom’s head would be bowed in the passenger seat, lost in a book.

Though I was content to read Babysitters’ Club books, my mom usually thrust the classics under my nose before buying another cookie-cutter series book for me to read in an hour. Island of the Blue Dolphins, Caddie Woodlawn, The Witch of Blackbird Pond, A Wrinkle in Time, Jane Eyre, Charlotte’s Web, Little House on the Prairie, Anne of Green Gables, and Little Women were my companions when I wasn’t pretending I was a gymnast on the fence in our backyard, collecting caterpillars or making up dance routines with my childhood best friend, Natalie. The courageous girls in these books were my sisters and literary friends.

The rigors of high school and college then usurped the ability to choose my book friends and I was forced to get to know those books I wouldn’t have chosen for myself: Fahrenheit 451, The Handmaid’s Tale, Crime and Punishment, The Great Gatsby, Animal Farm, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Odyssey, Othello and The Scarlet Letter. These friends weren’t as easy to get to know and being with them sometimes made my brain hurt. But just as befriending “difficult” people changes, challenges and stretches us, these books transformed me.

When you graduate from college, the thought that you can read anything you want is liberating after four years of forced reading lists. The freedom! So in those years after college and before masters studies, I leisurely caught up on the books I had missed while I was entrenched in academia. This was in the days before Netflix, Facebook or Twitter where wasting time meant first going to the video store, then coming home to put a DVD in the video player and curling up on the couch to veg out. It was almost easier to just grab a book.

Apart from my three years of masters study, my adult reading life has been slow, but continual. But because I read so much less than in years past, the books I spend time with must be worthy partners. They must educate, inform, inspire or be utterly engrossing. Life is too short to read books you hate.

And as writing has become more a part of my life, I’ve been surprised to find the pace of my reading pick up as well. I’ve always known that writers read, but it’s been amazing to find that though I have less time to read, I’ve found ways to fill in the chinks in my day that were once allowed to remain empty (or more likely filled with social media). Here are some ways I’ve been able to do that.

3 WAYS TO READ MORE

Read More Than One Book

One way I’ve done this is to read several books at one time. After listening to the popular podcast What Should I Read Next? where the host, Ann Bogel, interviews readers about their reading life, I noticed that most of them laugh when she asks them what they are currently reading. “I’m reading six books right now!” they usually say. Their reasoning is that they always have a book ready to fit their mood.

So I am giving it a try. Here’s what that looks like for me. I’m reading a devotional-type book in the mornings after I read my Bible. Right now, that’s Ruthless Trust, by Brennan Manning. I have a nonfiction book like The Writing Life by Annie Dillard, ready to read with breakfast if I don’t need to talk to anyone (which rarely happens). I have a more engrossing book, like The Invention of Wings, by Sue Monk Kidd, that requires a bit more head space to read for a few minutes with tea after I put the kids down for their naps. Finally, I have a book on my night stand, The More of Less, by Joshua Becker, that I can groggily read a few pages of (3 minutes, according to my husband) since night is not my ideal time for engaged thought.

And it’s working!

Read in Different Formats

In addition to surrounding myself with a variety of book friends, reading in many different formats has also helped to accelerate my ability to read more. If you always have a book or two on Kindle on your phone, then you always have a book with you to read. This has been great for standing in long lines, waiting in the car in the parking lot as my husband jets into the store to run an errand or if I sit down on the couch and realize my other book is too far away. And if you download the audio book of the same book on audible, then the book will sync up and enable you to listen while you’re driving around, then go back to Kindle format when you get home.

Keep a List

Finally, keeping an up-to-date list on Goodreads allows me to quickly choose the next book to put on hold at the library. My children already know that mommy and daddy usually have books on the hold shelf to retrieve before their story time at the library and they happily carry our books to the check out counter for us.

Reading is a satisfying love affair. More than just a way to escape daily life, it changes my perspective of people, God, and the world. What are some ways you are keeping up this affair in your life? I’d love to hear!

~~~

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Linking up with Velvet Ashes

On (most) Thursdays this year, I’ll share thoughts, tips and inspiration for writers. I’m certainly not an expert, but am simply seeking personal encouragement in this art and want to share with anyone who’s also trying to find their way as a writer. These short posts will come from books, articles, the Bible, my own thoughts, and other people. Subscribe in the upper right corner so that you don’t miss a post. If you’re new to the series, find all the posts here. Come meet me in the comments–I’d love to read your thoughts on writing.

Happy writing!

Leslie

June 8, 2016

Chicago’s Uptown {You Are Here Stories}

I’m sharing today at You Are Here Stories for the theme “sound.” You Are Here is a collection of stories about roots, identity and place, which are some of the topics I love to write about the most. Here is a teaser, but I hope you can click over and check out the rest of the article on their site!

A fire engine shrieked through the stoplight, casting a light show in my room and spraying the bare white walls with color. Even through closed windows, the sound was deafening. Within minutes, an ambulance from the hospital in the other direction bayed and bounded through the intersection. I rubbed my eyes. The city had assaulted me through the night, pushing away any hope of restful sleep. The thought of coffee propelled me out of bed.

As new college graduates, my two roommates and I were fresh from the sweetly singing suburbs. Having recently secured jobs in Chicago, we moved into a two bedroom apartment above a tuxedo shop doubling as a dry cleaner in Uptown, at the corner of Clark and Wilson. Our landlords owned the block. The father, an Arab from Palestine who worked tirelessly at the dry cleaner, was a large silver-haired man with bushy eyebrows and kind black eyes. He gave us a 10 percent discount for being his tenants. His burly son lived across the hall from us and owned the cell phone shop next door, which sold a variety of wares during our four years living there. The uncles worked across the street at the liquor store where we dropped off our rent.

Continue reading…

Photo of the Wilson L station by Graham Garfield

~~~

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Previous Post: Loving Like They’re Lost

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June 1, 2016

Loving Like They’re Lost

My babies are my tattoos. When I gave birth to them, my flesh ripped and I was left with beautiful, forever scars. I’ve been branded. Altered. These tattoos are a display of the divine artist who chose the intricate motions that would sear my skin and create the unique patterns of each child. Like a fresh wound, motherhood leaves you vulnerable and exposed. Motherhood sensitizes you to pain, but also to raw joy.

I’ve been complaining a lot lately. About children’s tantrums, humiliating tasks, “lost” time, wasted gifts, mundane moments, tiredness and the general humdrum of motherhood. But here’s the thing. I could easily have never been a mother. Or I could lose a child.

I could have been the mom at Cincinnati Zoo, whose little son slipped away from her and ended up being dangled around by a 400 lb. gorilla. And I am not exempt from having the baby wiggling in my womb right now never take a breath or losing a child in the myriad of tragic ways we have all read about on the Internet. Like gawking at a train wreck, we read along even though we know what such stories will do to our insides. How we’ll weep, fear more and clutch our little ones until they complain that we’re crushing them. But it’s that last part that I want to do more of. More of that clutching and squeezing my kids until they tell me that I’m hugging them too hard. I’d rather hug them too hard than make them wonder if they are less important than the rectangular box with a glowing screen that I cradle and stare at all day long.

A mom once told me that on the hardest days as a mom, she says to herself, What if my son died tomorrow? I thought that was dramatic at the time, but today I came across a woman’s story of losing her five-year-old daughter in a fire and fresh grief and fear gripped me. It’s a real thing. This losing of a child. And those of us who have never experienced that kind of loss have an obligation to love the ones we are given as if every day were their last.

So though you won’t often find me gushing about all the magical moments of mommyhood, I do want to write about them today. I need to come back to this post on the rough days when I wonder how my three-year-old was trained in torture techniques that could wear down the more resolute of prisoners.

Because gratefulness comes in the expressing of a thing. Beaming the light of thankfulness reveals the gifts that the darkness likes to hide. It illuminates the intricate, incredible, delectable, delightful details right under our noses.

Here are some of the ways I am thankful for my little people.

I’m thankful for this three-almost-four-year-old boy child that made me a mommy. He is a skinny thing of average height, with curly cornsilk hair with just a hint of strawberry in it. He has a small nose dotted with five brown freckles, green eyes with the same amber spark as mine and dimples that look more like creases right under his eyes when he smiles. He is pale, though he never seems to sunburn and still runs like a foal getting used to its legs.

I’ve started calling him Tigger Boy because he will not stop hopping around like the bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy, fun fun fun fun fun tiger in Winnie the Pooh. He is always moving, making trucks talk and acting out elaborate tales. Removing toys from his room has never helped him to sleep because he just plays with his hands instead, making them banter, leap and fly. The only way I can get him to be still is to plop him down in front of a fresh pile of library books and he will be quiet for an hour.

We have sung him the same three songs at night for the past year and he will not let us change. So every night after reading a book and a Bible story, we kneel at his bed and sing “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,” “Amazing Grace” and “Skip to my Lou.” Every. Single. Night. After that we pray and then he tells us he’s been saving up some kisses for us. So with what are usually wet fingers, he counts them out, “One, two, three, four, five, seven. No…one, two, three…” By this time we are usually ready to be done with this routine, but remind ourselves that this is sweet. We should savor this. This will not last. And so we wait and then squeeze our eyes shut as he slowly leaves saliva on every inch of our face.

He probably asks a hundred questions a day. Easily. And more than half we have no answer for. Where is that truck going? Why is that house green? Why are train tracks called “train tracks”? What is that lever on that boat for? Why do airplanes fly? Why do ants eat people food? Why do people watch races?

Lately, I’ve found that the only thing that seems to motivate him to clean up his toys is the promise of a BIG hug and a kiss. After months of threats, I was shocked that this simple flip of the switch from negative to positive reinforcement would actually work on my stubborn boy. A begrudging affection-giver, receiving these hugs from him is like precious treasure.

Having this first baby boy was the first time I ever fell instantaneously, head-over-heels in love.

Having convinced myself I’d probably have all boys, I couldn’t believe it when the ultrasound technician announced that my second baby would be a girl. My husband and I squeezed hands and looked at each other with eyes full of tears–a girl!

Now almost two-years-old, she seems to delight in tormenting her brother, snuggling with her parents and exhibiting more of an attention span for Lego’s than for dolls. Girl clothes, hair and toys are still an enigma to us as we’re slowly adapting our expectations from Little Boy World to Little Girl World and finding that they are, in fact, two different things. We’re discovering how complicated it is to match different shades of pink and purple clothes and convince your toddler to sit still for more than two minutes while you comb out her tangles and brush her straw-colored hair into two neat, wispy pigtails. And we’re already wading the sea of sexist toys earmarked for girls that seem to stereotype and define females from such a young age.

But this little girl. Oh my. Her chubby cheeks and thighs. Her musical laugh. Even the way she beats up her brother with her tiny hands slapping his back while he just sits there saying, “ow, ow, ow, ow” without moving away. The way she breaks into crocodile tears in an instant when we say “no.” She looks at us defiantly from those huge blue eyes, button nose and pouty lips when she’s in time out, but usually willingly joins our son for his time outs when he is in trouble. She has fire in her.

But also sweetness. She shows surprising kindness even at this young age and will eventually surrender her toys to her screaming, tantrum-throwing brother even though it was technically “her turn” to have them.

And the two of them together? Lately, they love to twirl to music, arms raised, and run in circles on the carpeted living room floor until they fall into a giggling heap. They can’t wait to get butt naked before bath time so they can do their “nakey dance” as their dad and I clap out a rhythm for their tiny dancing bodies. They sit in lizard-like positions, draped over the couch or coffee table as they are mesmerized by the moving images on the T.V. screen. On walks, they flatten themselves on the sidewalk to poke at unassuming bugs and transfer them to blades of grass or twigs. They squeal endlessly when we pin them to the ground and tickle their hands, feet, tiny toes and soft necks.

These little ones are my axis right now. The climate of my world often shifts depending on whether they have slept, eaten or been shown enough affection throughout the day. My days are more dreary when they are unhappy, and flooded with sunshine when they are spilling with laughter.

Perspective breeds gratefulness.

Today, I give thanks for these precious babes. For their innocence and simple delight. These beautiful tattoos on my soul. And I want to love them more wildly for all the mommies who have lost their little ones. I owe it to these mothers, but also to my beautiful, darling children and to my Jesus for entrusting them to me for such a time as this.

~~~

**Trigger alert**
www.abigumbrella.com This was the site that I poured over yesterday afternoon that led to writing this post. It is heart-wrenching, but a beautiful testimony of finding that God clings to us even as we’re searching for Him in suffering.

~~~

Linking up with #GiveMeGrace

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I've been complaining a lot lately. About children's tantrums, humiliating tasks, "lost" time, wasted gifts, mundane moments, tiredness and the general humdrum of motherhood. But here's the thing. I could easily have never been a mother. Or I could lose a child.

May 30, 2016January 13, 2017

Monthly Mentionables {May}

I never thought I’d say this, but I’ve been missing being a teacher. Before leaving my job to stay home with kids, I taught middle school, ESL to college students in China and fourth grade. Though I don’t miss the bureaucracy, grading papers or interacting with livid parents, I do miss the continual learning, creative planning and being a part of the “light bulb moments” that make it all worth it as a teacher.

But who says the learning has to stop?

Just because I’m home with teeny tiny kids all day doesn’t mean all intelligent thought must cease. I can still read, listen and learn. So lately, along with the typical mom stuff, I’ve been gravitating towards educating myself on social justice issues. More than half of those I follow on Twitter are people of color. I love watching my Twitter feed as it chatters all day long with the voices of the world changers and points me toward more resources about doing justly, loving mercy and walking humbly with my God. Here are the books, podcasts, recipes, articles and writing projects I‘ve been into this month. I’d love to hear some of your favorites as well!

Books:

Jesus Feminist: An Invitation to Revisit the Bible’s View of Women, by Sarah Bessey

Since I come from a more conservative background where “feminist” is a loaded word, I was a bit nervous to read this book, honestly. But in reality, I found Sarah Bessey’s discussion of women’s roles in the family, church, and world, to be a refreshing reminder of God’s love for women–and anything but scary or offensive.

While I didn’t agree with everything she said, I appreciated hearing credible evidence for certain doctrines that had often been dismissed as “unbiblical” among conservatives–using plenty of biblical proof. But more than anything, Sarah always carried her discussion back to the living, breathing, pulse-in-our-veins soul relationship with Jesus and the hope we have in Him. She is not out to declare war on those who disagree with her, but to remind us we are not to worship our creeds, traditions and black-and-white theology, but worship our Jesus and see ourselves the way that he sees us as women. Though this book was clearly well-researched, it was not intended to be a reference manual, but more of a personal testimony. I appreciated hearing the experience of another daughter of the King who is following His way in freedom.

The Mother Letters: Sharing the Laughter, Joy, Struggles and Hope, by Seth & Amber Haines

The Mother Letters is a book of letters compiled by Seth Haines for his wife, Amber, during a time when she was struggling as a mother. You can read my review of this book here, but if you can’t get to it, then know that I would highly recommend it for all moms!

Still Life (Book #1 in A Chief Inspector Gamache Mystery Series), by Louise Penny

This was the first fiction book I have read in a while and I mostly listened to it over the Nebraska plains in the middle of the night as we drove to Chicago and back in early May. I loved the characters and was immediately engrossed in the story that took place in the quaint town of Three Pines in Quebec. It had been a while since I read a mystery story, so listening while driving in the wee hours of the morning wasn’t ideal for paying attention to detail, but I felt the sense of triumphant success of solving the case myself in the end that drives a person to dive right back into another mystery. I would recommend this and I’ve heard that they just get better and better in the series, so I look forward to reading the next one.

The Writing Life, by Annie Dillard

I think this was the third or fourth time I’ve read this book, but the first time since I actually started calling myself a “writer.” Even so, it always stirred a secret compartment of my soul that yearned to write. Her perspective on writing is honest and I appreciate the way she validates both the difficulties and the joys of this way of life that I am learning to live.

This quote stuck out to me this time:

“Why do you never find anything written about the idiosyncratic thought you advert to, about your fascination with something no one else understands? Because it us up to you. There is something you find interesting, for a reason hard to explain. It is hard to explain because you have never read it on any page; there you begin. You were made and set here to give voice to this, your own astonishment” (p. 68).

Currently Reading (Books):

I’m trying out a new reading strategy–read several books at once. So far, if I have books scattered around the house, with a pencil already marking my place, I seem to be more likely to pick them up and start reading when I only have a minute or two. It also seems to help to have them in different formats (Kindle and the audio book version). Here are books I’m currently reading or about to start. And, to be fair, we’re going to San Diego for a whole week WITHOUT KIDS, so I‘m being pretty ambitious with my reading goals this month. Anyone want to read along with me?

A Fatal Grace (Book 2), by Louise Penny

Big Magic, by Elizabeth Gilbert

The Invention of Wings, by Sue Monk Kidd (for my new book club!)

The More of Less, by Joshua Becker

Playful Parenting, by Lawrence J. Cohen

Potty Train Your Child in Just One Day, by Terri Crane (ugh–I’ll be skimming this one)

Ruthless Trust, by Brennan Manning

Favorite Podcasts this Month:

Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach

#42 Manage Your Energy So You Can Write

#49 Here’s to the Writer Moms
(This podcast inspired me to write this post)

#50 Stop Waiting for Last Minute Writing Inspiration

On Being

John A. Powell: Opening the Question of Race to the Question of Belonging

Nikki Giovanni: Soul Food, Sex and Space

The Happy Hour with Jamie Ivey

#67 Sarah Bessey

#45 Shannan Martin

The Hope * Writers

What I Wish I’d Known Before I Wrote My First Book

Seminary Dropout

Deidra Riggs on Women of Color Writers, the Church, and More!

Jo Saxton on Post-Christendom, Discipleship, and Being a Woman of Color

Michelle Higgins on That Sermon at Urbana (Here is the talk that this is about: Michelle Higgins)

Sorta Awesome

All the Awesome for Summer 2016!

What Should I Read Next?

#19 Great Literary fiction, inspirational favorites, and high school English with Brian Sztabnik

Recipes:

Balsamic Roasted Potato Salad (Your Home Based Mom)
I’m not a fan of mayo-based potato salad, so I was really excited to find this recipe. And it has bacon;-)

Charred Cauliflower Quesadillas (Smitten Kitchen)
Apart from the smoky house, these were really yummy (and hid lots of veggies so my kids ate them without realizing it).

Cilantro Lime Dressing (All Recipes)
I made this to top a salad with lettuce, roasted corn, and avocado and it was really delicious (I skipped the honey).

Sweet Potato and Sausage Soup (Smitten Kitchen)
This was really good, but not my favorite for summertime. I’ll pull it out again in the fall, most likely.

Also made these again (reviewed in previous posts):

Spring Roll Bowls with Sweet Garlic Lime Sauce (Pinch of Yum)

Sunday Frittata (Pioneer Woman)

Veggie Black Bean Enchiladas (Cookie + Kate) with Homemade Enchilada Sauce

Thought-Provoking Articles from the Web:

An Open Letter to My Grown Boys: I Miss You, by Christy Mobley at For Every Mom (this one is a tear-jerker!)

“I miss you.

And to be honest, when the normal busy of the day gets tucked away and I’m ready for sleep…sometimes my heart will ache with the miss.

It aches for tiny arms stretching around my neck to squeeze the ever lovin’ life out of me.
It aches to hear chipmunk-like voices say, “Mommy, I love you more than anything in the world.”
It aches for the heart to heart talks about problems only a mama can solve…”

TGIF: How I Made Peace with my Breasts in a Brothel, by Tina Francis for She Loves Magazine (a must-read for anyone who has spent time in Thailand.)

“Pema Chödrön writes that the truest and best measure of compassion lies not in our service of those in the margins, but in our willingness to see ourselves in kinship with them.”

Ten Things White People Need to Quit Saying, by Melody Moezzi for Huffington Post

“1. Do not use the word “exotic” to refer to humans who do not look like you. We are not fruit, and it is not a compliment. The longer you insist on assuring us that it is a compliment, the stupider you look. Just give it up.

2. Do not use the word “ethnic” as though it were a distinct race or nationality.

3. Do not ask people where they are from more than once. Trust them the first time. No need for “Where are you really from?” or “Where are your parents from?”…

Thirty Ways to Reset Your Day, by Ginny Ellis at Wichita Mom Blog

“1. Eat. Even if you all just ate, see if a PB&J or apple may help get everyone back in the groove.
2. Play with Play Doh. Bonus for lavender calming dough.
3. Give the kid(s) a bath. Daytime baths are so much fun.
4. Throw a mini dance party. Turn up a Disney classic or T. Swift jam and dance it out.
5. Practice calming breaths. Even for the little, little ones. Smell a flower, blow a candle, repeat.
6. Watch puppy or videos on YouTube. Or goats. Goats are cute…”

White Privilege, Explained in One Simple Comic (language alert!)

Why White People Freak Out When They’re Called Out About Race, by Sam Adler-Bell for Alternet

“For white people, their identities rest on the idea of racism as about good or bad people, about moral or immoral singular acts, and if we’re good, moral people we can’t be racist – we don’t engage in those acts. This is one of the most effective adaptations of racism over time—that we can think of racism as only something that individuals either are or are not “doing.”

In large part, white fragility—the defensiveness, the fear of conflict—is rooted in this good/bad binary. If you call someone out, they think to themselves, “What you just said was that I am a bad person, and that is intolerable to me.” It’s a deep challenge to the core of our identity as good, moral people.”

7 Books that Will Help You Care for the Poor, Relevant Magazine (Haven’t read any of these, but they’re going on The List).

Published Articles:

A Letter to My Daughter, for Self Talk the Gospel

The Cult of Calling (originally published at A Life Overseas, but republished this month at For Every Mom)

The Ugly Truth about Diversity, at For Every Mom

When You Feel Like God Misled You, for Middle Places

In Case You Missed it on the Blog…

The Minivan Identity Crisis

To the Writer Mamas

Three Children is a Bad Idea (and why we’re doing it anyway)

You Know You’re Married to a Voice Actor When…

~~~

Do you have any recommendations of books, podcasts, recipes or articles you’ve loved this month?

Subscribe to Scraping Raisins by email and/or follow me on Twitter and Facebook. I’d love to get to know you better!

~~~

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Linking up with Emily P. Freeman and Leigh Kramer

Here are the books, podcasts, recipes, articles and writing projects I've been into this month.

May 26, 2016

To the Writer Mamas

Writing while simultaneously being a mother to teeny children is a bit like trying to renovate a house while you‘re still living in it. House projects–or writing goals–abound, but messy, magical, mundane life cannot stand still for you complete them. But is it possible that every finished project, however inconvenient, will eventually improve your quality of life–and the quality of life of your family?

Since I began writing more seriously eight months ago, several older people of faith have warned me not to get “too distracted and carried away” by writing, lest it infringe on my duties as a mother. As a result, I’ve been on the hunt for other mamas who are leaning into this tension of the dual callings of art and home and can help me answer the question: Is it possible to be a mother and a writer–and still do each one well?

Madeline L’Engle is a hero for those of us seeking to debunk the myth that being a writer and mama are in conflict. L’Engle inspires us as writer mamas because she managed to have a flourishing writing career while raising three children. I recently listened to a podcast by Ann Kroeker where she spoke of getting the opportunity to ask L’Engle how she was able to be a writer and mother at the same time during those years when her kids were small. After a long pause, L’Engle finally looked at her and answered, “It was hard.”

But in her book, A Circle of Quiet, L’Engle recounts a time when her eldest child noticed that she had been in a bad mood lately and said to her, “Mother, you’ve been getting cross and edgy with us, and you haven’t been doing much writing. We wish you’d get back to the typewriter” (p. 199). In Walking on Water, she refers to this story and says, “I had to learn that I was a better mother and wife when I was working than when I was not” (p. 166).

Like L’Engle, writing has made me a better mother. It sets me on high alert to notice the beauty, meaning or hilarity in the ordinary. Writing plants seeds of gratitude within me as I am more apt to discover the magnalia Dei, the marvels of God, in my daily life. I have the mind of an explorer, always on the quest for new places, people or ideas. Writing shoves me into the presence of other pilgrims, seekers, and beauty-finders. It gives me the opportunity to “live life twice,” as Natalie Goldberg said, and finally work through my past, present and future with infant eyes. Like thumbing back through my pictures from a trip, writing allows me to slowly reexamine and delight in the minutia I might otherwise have missed as time whizzed by.

Writing also heals. As someone who has always called my journal my “personal counselor,” writing unlocks old, dusty treasure troves of experiences and gives them value as they are polished and given away. Healing comes as I write in league with the Spirit, who illuminates my path and reveals the times when I was not walking alone. Writing enables me to offer a more whole version of myself to all who know me.

Fitting writing into the more than full-time job of being a wife and mother has been a challenge. But L’Engle also admitted that, “For a woman who has chosen family as well as work, there’s never time, and yet somehow time is given to us” (Walking on Water, p. 165). We make time for what is important to us. It‘s been amazing to find that if I am willing to let my floor be a bit messier, the laundry to linger a little longer and the T.V. screen to sit blank and lonely, that I have time in the margins of my day to write. L’Engle remarked that “A certain amount of stubbornness—pig-headedness—is essential” to the mother who wants to write (Walking on Water, p. 165). For me, that is a 5 AM wake-up, writing during the kids’ nap time, scribbling notes for articles while sautéing vegetables for dinner and spending free evenings thumping on my keyboard.

But I also have to accept my limitations as a writer during this season of being a mother to tiny ones. In the conclusion of her podcast, Ann Kroeker finally got a more satisfactory answer to her question about juggling motherhood and a writing career from the writer Holly Miller. Holly told her, “You still have time to develop your career as a writer, but you only have NOW with your kids. Your kids are so little and they’re little for such a short time. You’ll never regret spending this time with your kids.” But she also encouraged Ann to “Keep your finger in the publishing world. Keep it going on a small scale and your time will come.” Years later, Ann agrees that these small deposits into her writing career did add up.

I will have more time later to write. Now is the season for delighting in the magical world of child’s play: splashing in the sprinkler, sending dandelion seeds flying, lying on the ground to poke ants and rollie pollies, taking very slow walks around the block, tickling again and again, building towers, blowing hundreds of iridescent bubbles that float into the neighbors’ yard, making toy cars talk, endlessly making up answers to the question “why?,” rolling out play dough snakes and zipping baby dolls into tiny clothing.

It is talking to my children about this God-man, Jesus, who loves us so, reading stories about talking animals, kissing ouchies, holding up traffic to spot the prairie dogs in the field, finding pine cones in the pots in my cupboards and deliberating over whether picking up the toys again is really worth the effort. It’s wondering if I am still the same person that I was four years ago and deciding that I am not. Parts of me have been lost, but other, more fruitful branches, have grown where the others have been stripped and pruned. Though I may not be writing for five hours a day, this season of slowness is training me in the discipline of noticing.

Tears streamed down my face as I listened to Ann’s podcast because it validated me as a writer, but also gave me permission to enjoy my children right now. To the other writer mamas wondering if their callings of motherhood and writing are in conflict, please know that they do not need to be. You will be more whole and available to your family if you are using your gift and following your call as a writer. But also know that you do not have to achieve all of your goals right now.

Life is long, but the time with our kids is short, so keep in step with your kids and allow your writing to have the same pace that they do—even if that is stopping often, moving slowly and developing gradually. Our writing in this season has a similar rhythm and stride. It is slow, but there is progress as you slowly renovate your rooms. Keep celebrating the small advances in your life as a mother and in your career as a writer and know that these two are not mutually exclusive, but inextricably bound as you settle into the home of the mama writer self you were created to be.

~~~

Are you a writer mama? What has your experience been?

~~~

Resources for Writer Mamas:

Ann Kroeker (Writing Coach) Podcast mentioned in this post: Here’s to the Writer Moms (just 7 minutes!)

How Alive Do You Want to Be? by Ashley Hales (mother of 4) for The Mudroom

An Interview with Sarah Bessey on Faith, Art & Motherhood (writer and mother of 4), by Jerusalem Greer

~~~

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~~~

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Linking up with Grace & Truth

Happy writing!

Leslie

Is it possible to be a good mother AND a good writer?

May 24, 2016

Lessons from The #MotherLetters

Last week my almost two-year old and almost four-year old joined forces and put their tantrum-throwing, shrieking, obstinate little heads together to make me question not only my calling as a mama, but my credibility as a decent human being. It was a rough week. So reading again through the book, The Mother Letters: Sharing the Laughter, Joy, Struggles, and Hope, today to prepare for this post has been like pouring healing salve on still-open wounds. As I read the book of letters compiled by Seth Haines for his wife, Amber, for the first time a few weeks ago, I often wept as I drank in the words of other mamas around the world with similar inner struggles during this challenging, yet magical, season with little ones.

Here, I’ve listed ten of the most common themes I noticed throughout the book with a quote or two under each category, but this is just a sliver of the wisdom that this book offers to moms everywhere looking for a shoulder to cry on or a warm, empathetic embrace on the journey of motherhood. Please read it yourself. Designed in letter form for moms with very little quiet time, it would make a perfect companion to morning coffee or as before bed reading.

Here are ten recurring themes from The Mother Letters that I will revisit in the days, weeks and years to come:

1. Slow down and cherish the little moments.

“Slow down…Living a slower life, you can see things more clearly…We all know they grow up fast. All the more reason to slow down.” Ann Kroeker, “Blink”

“I should take some time to appreciate today’s little wins…each day brings its own small delights that eventually contribute to the great victory of seeing our children grow up to be joyful, productive, appreciative, competent people.” Katie Meyering, “Victories”

“Time goes by too quickly. Cherish it all…” Lisa Douglas, “Cherish”

2. Don’t forget you are a person, too.

“Mama, you need to do the things that make you feel like a person…being a whole person makes you a better mother.” Sarah Bessey, “Calling”

“Find some small fragment of time. Find a place where you can be alone with your thoughts. Close your eyes and remember who you are.” Tammy Zufelt Thomas “Queen”

3. When we are weak, then we are strong.

“Ours is a power that comes straight from weakness.” Amber Haines, “A Final Letter”

4. Your children belong to God first.

“Who am I to worry about them when they’re God’s first? Will God not take care of his own far better than I ever could?” Laura Bull, “Worry”

5. Your presence is your greatest gift.

“Your children don’t need you to enroll them in eight hundred activities, to keep the cleanest house, or to entertain them. They need you to be there. Practice the art of sitting. Watch your children play…prove to them by your stillness that you will be there. That you are listening.” Lora Lynn Fanning, “Being”

6. You are your child’s perfect mother.

“This has nothing to do with perfection or being perfect and everything to do with God gifting you to steward their lives.” Robin Dance, “Perfect”

“Over time, I am noticing that I don’t parent out of guilt or my own agenda as much as I used to, because I realize God has equipped me as he sees fit.” Rachel McAdams, “Trust”

“I know God chose me to mother my kids.” Kristen Welch, “Presence”

7. Choose gratitude.

“We will walk this road to the end—no changing that. But we will choose how to walk; chained and bent by bitter disappointment or hands and face freely raised in praise. Our choice…Walk the road, but look for the beauty along the way. And when you find it, rejoice.” Tonia Peckover, “Live”

“Whatever your path to motherhood was, I pray that you can take a moment to be in awe of your children and the fact that they are your children.” Rebecca Whitson, “Together”

“…I try to remember that I could have missed all of this, and I choose to smile.” Carlee, “Here”

8. You are doing a fabulous job.

“There will be so many times you feel like you’ve failed. But in the eyes, hearts, and minds of your children, you are Super Mom. You are their world.” Stephanie Precourt, “Super”

9. God will give you what you need.

“We’re not alone on this journey. God has given us these little people to shepherd for a time, but they are his. When life is overwhelming and dark and exhausting, he is there. When it is precious and thrilling and magical, he is there. Is. 40:11 promises us, ‘He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.’” Shannon Lowe, “Shepherd”

“I have learned to trust that God, who made me a mother, equipped me to meet the needs of my special child.” Kari Clark, “Unexpected”

10. Motherhood is hard…but it is good.

“A thousand, thousand voices raised together across the centuries in the wild chorus of motherhood that soars over all you thought you would be and transforms you into all that Christ believes you can become. The stretching doesn’t end after the first nine months. Nor does the joy.” Lisa-Jo Baker “Anthem”

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Thank you to Seth and Amber Haines for adding more voices to the chorus of motherhood through sharing these precious letters.

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