Break me and shape me
Move me and shake me
Tear me down to build me up again
Too hard and I crumble
Too soft and I stumble
Mold me with your loving hands
Yet, O LORD, you are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand.
Isaiah 64:8
I attended the funeral of a woman today whom I did not know very well personally. We’d met several times at networking functions, and I was instantly impressed by her warm presence and ability to really look someone in the eye. She was a pillar of the community and a dear friend to many of my friends and colleagues.
I can honestly say it was one of the most beautiful services I’d ever been to. No generic accolades or vague terms of endearment. This was a woman who’d truly touched people.
As stories were told of her enduring nature and generous heart, I couldn’t help but focus on the large pillar candles flickering on the alter. I began to wonder about my own legacy. What will be said at my funeral? Will I be known as …
2007: The day we brought Brady (left) home from the shelter
to be a friend to Morgan (right).
“Where’s Brady?”
It’s a question I dread having to answer. What do I say? How do I tell my two year old one of her “puppies” got ran over? Do I just tell her the truth?
Do I tell her he went to live with Jesus? Even as I type that I snicker, thinking of Brady tearing through doggy heaven, knocking things over, splashing through any water he could find, and wallowing in heavenly cow dung. (Yes, he had an addiction to rolling in bovine poo, although in heaven it probably wouldn’t smell bad.)
If I’m being honest, I have to admit Brady was often a pain. We brought him home from the Humane Society in the …
I hope you know how much I love you. I didn’t really sing to you, talk to you, or obsess over nursery details for you. I’ve talked about you a lot, though. I’ve told your big sister over and over how much you love her, and how much she’s going to love you. I’ve taken my prenatals religiously, and made sure to eat as healthy as possible. I’ve gone to all of the doctor appointments, followed directions, and now we’re just waiting.
Waiting to meet you. Waiting to begin our life together as a family of four.
We probably won’t take as many pictures of you, or scramble for the video camera at your every single move. But you know what? We don’t love you any less. We’re just more relaxed now, and I think we’ll enjoy …
Around here, unless you’re three foot tall, covered in red fur, and giggle like a friendly hyena, you won’t get much attention. Apparently, carrying a child for nine months and forgoing precious hours of sleep to feed, rock and soothe her doesn’t account for much when compared to the infectious antics of an exuberant little monster…Elmo.
My kid loves Elmo. I mean loooooves Elmo. It’s crazy. She’s only 16 months old! She pines away for him with a cutely pathetic little whine, “Elmo…Elmooo.” She anxiously points at the computer screen, wanting me to pull up sesamestreet.com. I know it’s my own fault. Obviously, I exposed her to his “furness,” but I had no idea it would go this far.
So who is Elmo, exactly? Born in 1979, his original name was “Little Monster.” It wasn’t until …
As a side effect of my work with Girl Scouts of Kansas Heartland to promote healthy media images for girls (which you can read about here) I’ve become more sensitive and aware of just how far advertisers are willing to go to sell their products to young girls.
Take this ad from Sears, for example. It clearly states who the intended target audience is: girls who wear “junior” sized clothing. Now some may argue that girls in their late teens and early twenties (and beyond, but that’s another issue) wear junior clothing, so this ad may not be inappropriate.
But for those of you with tween daughters, you know that this is the image they look up to. While you’re browsing through the children’s section, they’re stealing glances at the juniors section, with …