The best "Dear Daughter" letter I have read in a long time.

Read this blog post at Kim Keller's site and had to pass it along. I didn't "see" what Miley Cyrus did at the VMA's, but it must have been a doozy.

More striking to me is how much this mother's heart resounds with me. I still wish we had locked our daughter in a basement for about 6 years, but hind sight is 20/20, right? ;)If only I had know "twerking" might have solved all her issues! Bahahaha!

Honestly, I feel that I have the best daughter in the world. She amazes me every day with who she is. As she starts a new job, prepares for college and cares for her husband and child, I am soooo proud of all that she is, and all that God is doing in her life.

But as parents, I think we all have struggled with the "what do I do now?" moments. This post made me laugh... as well as pray harder for my girl as she raises her beautiful daughter, and my boys as they navigate this crazy world. May they be "shrewd as vipers, yet innocent as doves".

"Dear Daughter,
Let Miley Cyrus be a lesson to you.

Yes, this is what happens when you constantly hear everything you do is awesome. This is what happens when people fawn over your every Tweet and Instagram photo. This is what happens when no responsible adult has ever said the word “no,” made you change your clothes before leaving the house, or never spanked your butt for deliberate defiance.

If you ever even consider doing something like that, I promise you that I will run up and twerk so you will see how ridiculous twerking looks. I will duct tape your mouth shut so your tongue doesn’t hangout like an overheated hound dog. I will smack any male whom you decide to smash against his pelvis – after I first knock you on your butt for forgetting how a lady acts in public.

Why would I do that? Because I love you and I want you to respect yourself. Miley Cyrus is not edgy or cool or sexy. She’s a desperate girl screaming for attention: Notice me. Tell me I’m pretty. See how hot I am. I know all the guys want me. All the girls want to be me.

 You probably know girls who will emulate this behavior at the next school dance. Don’t do it with them. You are far too valuable to sell yourself so cheaply. Walk away. Let the boys gawk and know in your heart that they see only a body that can be used for their pleasure and then forgotten.

I’m sorry if you’ve ever felt sad because I haven’t gushed over everything you’ve done. My role is to praise when praise is due, but also to offer constructive criticism and correction when it is needed as well. I’m sorry if you’ve ever felt demoralized because your Instagram following isn’t in the thousands, and I’m sorry those “selfies” can never capture how amazingly beautiful you truly are.

I’m sorry if you’ve ever wished you had a friend instead of a mom, and I promise you that I will probably get worse when you hit high school.

 Dear daughter, I am going to fight or die trying to keep you from becoming like the Miley Cyruses of the world.

You can thank me later."
(Excerpt taking from http://roadkillgoldfish.com/ with all rights to Kimberly Keller)

Some encouragement for your mama heart.

Sweet blog I read the other day at just the right time. Written by a woman who never actually knew her mother, but the impact a mother has is always there. I hope if you found yourself discouraged today, whether by your choices or others- God would hold you close and comfort your heart. None of your efforts are wasted, sister. And by the grace of God, He won't let you totally screw those babies up! :)

"Direct me in the path of your commands, for there I find delight. " Psalm 119:35

"The Hand Clapping Game

I was 24 years old, sitting in a sandwich shop with our Sunday School class after church. I don’t remember what I ate, who I talked to or what I heard, but I vividly remember what I saw.

I saw my Sunday School teacher, Cindy, and her 9 year old daughter sitting on her lap playing a hand clapping game. You know the ones. You rhyme, you clap, you giggle and laugh.

I watched and even after 24 years, my heart…ached.

My Mother

I never knew my mother. She died when I was only a few months old. I never knew what it was like to sit in her lap or play hand clapping games. I never dressed up in her clothes as a little girl. I never had an argument with her and I never gave her a hug.

In my mind I had the perfect mother, though. I put together the bits and pieces that my dad and grandparents shared about her and wove that together with my own dreams. She was beautiful and gracious. She loved Jesus and her family. She was kind and gentle and giving. She could sing like an angel.

She does sing like an angel…

I clung to everything that was hers. My dad said she liked pears. Pears were my favorite-est fruit ever, in-the-whole-wide-world. I had a fancy lotion jar that was hers. I’d open it for a sniff and close it as fast as I could, afraid my connection to her would fade with the scent.

The mother-daughter relationship – it seemed like such a mystery to me. I was the outsider looking in and dreaming. As a little girl, I’d see mothers and daughters talking or playing together and I was so jealous. l wanted to know what it would be like to play a hand clapping game with someone called Mommy.

My little heart ached a lot.

He Saw Every Ache…and He Knew

And then…

It’s as if He’d been whispering to me all along, “Just wait, my girl. Have I got something special for you. Just wait.”

When I grew up, my sweet, precious, ever-faithful, ever-watching, ever-knowing Redeemer gave me not one, but two little girls.

And we play hand clapping games. And they call me Mommy.

And I am thankful.

A Word for You

Isn’t it funny how someone I never knew has shaped so much of who I am? The mere mention of her name brings misty wetness to the eyes of this grown, 34 year old woman.

A mother’s impact in her child’s life is profound. Never ever doubt or forget this.

What you are doing matters. It matters deeply.

You are not just a mother.

You are a Mother."

Kat -http://inspiredtoaction.com/2010/08/my-story-part-1/
Enjoy the last month of summer, and make memories that will bring a smile to those who remember...

To be a lover of books...

I have always know that loving books was a good thing, but Randy Alcorn shines some light on why it is also an IMPORTANT thing. Not only should we be teaching our children to enjoy quality books, but we need to be modeling that discipline to them through our own lives. He says it much better in the video below. I love that he goes so far to call reading a "holy habit". At least there I have one good habit that comes naturally! :)

"...those who are not readers will not be readers of God's Word." Randy Alcorn

LATE NOTE: Not one to take what anyone says as law, I couldn't figure out why this quote was nagging at me all day. Now- 5 hours later it struck me. I will give you Renee's edited version- "...those who are not readers will STRUGGLE with being readers of God's Word." There. That seems better. Because I know lots of people who ONLY read God's Word. They aren't readers by taste, but they love and value the Bible so much- they read it regularly. Makes you wonder what they would be like if they had cultivated a love of books as children. :) Maybe reading wouldn't sometimes feel like a chore and more often a delight? You tell me. God bless you with a special verse just for you today as you remain faithful to Him.

Where did you get your love for reading? from Randy Alcorn on Vimeo.

I am so doing this next time I go to Target and see a whiner.

Be sure to pause the playlist of music on the right before you start the video.

Make it happen, Lord.

The over protection of American children is getting ridiculous. And I am guilty of it too. The more I read about it, the more I cringe to realize the damage we are doing, and the "emasculating" that is occuring in our wonderful country- under the pretense of love and good parenting.
So I am on a mission to find out what things I can change, what I can let go of, how I have been stifling my children's curiosity and courage, and praying that God would change me now before I completely ruin them. :) Well, not really- but the last few weeks I have been thinking about it a lot, and know it is time to make a change. Studies have shown that hyper, over-protective moms tend to raise anxious, fearful kids, and that stinks. We don't let our children play on safe streets because we fear kidnapping, their coach yells at them and we hold a "meeting", they forget their lunch money, and we zoom to McDonalds to cover their butts- rather than letting them feel the consequences and learn.
"Ultimately, kids need to learn how to fly, and we must ask: Just how strong can their wings get when they're never allowed to use them?" Paul Coughlin

Ask Calvin's dad

Calvin's dad answering questions, quoted from various Calvin and Hobbes books

Q. Why does the sky turn red as the sun sets?A. That's all the oxygen in the atmosphere catching fire.Q. Where does the sun go when it sets?A. The sun sets in the west. In Arizona actually, near Flagstaff. That's why the rocks there are so red.Q. Don't the people get burned up?A. No, the sun goes out as it sets. That's why it's dark at night.Q. Doesn't the sun crush the whole state as it lands?A. Ha ha, of course not. Hold a quarter up. See, the sun's just about the same size.Q. I thought I read that the sun was really big.A. You can't believe everything you read, I'm afraid.

Q. Why do my eyes shut when I sneeze?A. If your lids weren't closed, the force of the explosion would blow your eyeballs out and stretch the optic nerve, so your eyes would flop around and you'd have to point them with your hands to see anything.

Q. How do bank machines work?A. Well, let's say you want 25 dollars. You punch in the amount and behind the machine there's a guy with a printing press who makes the money and sticks it out this slot.
Q. What causes the wind?A. Trees sneezing.

Q. Why does ice float?A. Because it's cold. Ice wants to get warm, so it goes to the top of liquids to be nearer to the sun.

Q. How come you know so much?A. It's all in the book you get when you become a father.