When we, as parents and teenagers together, roll up our sleeves and delve into a project around our homestead, everyone tends to be pleasantly surprised at the outcomes.
Some days I feel like I am a crooked stick trying to draw a straight line in the dirt. On those days, I remind myself of my educational goals for my child. I remind myself that they’re simple, really. I remind myself that there are only two.
I’m a failure. If I’m not currently beating myself up over this truth, I’m actually okay with it. In fact, I’ve realized that even when parents feel like failures, their children–by God’s grace–can still succeed.
My 12-year-old gave me a beautiful belated Mother’s Day present yesterday, posting this note to her blog…
I want to start off by saying I’m sorry. I’m sorry we didn’t do much for you yesterday (Mother’s Day)…. We really were going to! But we all were too tired Saturday night because your eldest daughter came home from college at 11:30 pm. (The college “trouble maker,” even though we all know she’s a good girl, because you raised her well.)
The sun rose earlier than I this morning, as she has for many weeks now, dancing through my open window in calm, warm snipets of promise, blowing between the poplar branches.
Realizing I had missed watching the sun yawn over the tree tops outside my window, I wished I could hold every fleeting minute of the morning’s promise that I had missed. Cradle them like delicate, warm, farm-fresh eggs in my hands.