Isn’t it Ironic….

As you know, my daughter is 16, soon to be 17. She is smart, loves to laugh, pretty, and naturally athletic. And she is also completely self absorbed. But, you know what? When I was 16, soon to be 17, so was I. My cousin once told my mother, “there is nothing as self absorbed as a teenage girl.” I tend to agree. I have been considering my own mom lately and how she must have felt during my teenage years. All I can say to her is that I am truly sorry.

Let’s face it, we can look at the juxtaposition of a mom and a teenage girl and see that God truly does have a sense of humor. Look at hormones alone. A teenage girl’s hormones are surging, while a middle-aged woman’s are decreasing. The result is a little bit of crazy crashing into each other. (Oh my, our poor husbands!) And come to think of it, a teenage girl’s body is developing and in it’s prime physically; while a middle aged woman’s body is drooping and each morning brings aches and pains anew.

My daughter is standing at the beginning of her journey and I am realizing that I am most likely halfway through mine. Each day my focus is on her and her focus? Well, it’s on her too! (Ha! At least we have that in common.)

Okay, reality check folks. Comparisons of any kind steal our joy and all of this nonsense really doesn’t matter either. It is merely yet another season of life. And it will pass and most likely pass way too quickly.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:

a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance,

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

a time to search and a time to give up,

a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,

a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love and a time to hate,

a time for war and a time for peace.

(Ecclesiastes 3:1‭-‬8 NIV)

So, I have come to the conclusion that I will lean into God’s Word, enjoy the beauty in the irony of this particluar season and keep moving forward in love! We are about to celebrate Jesus’ birth and we can have as much of His joy, love and grace as we want. It is a free, pure gift from our Father. For every season.

Oh, and I will definitely call my mom in the morning and tell her that I am sorry once again, and giggle with her about my own self absorbed days and tell her I love her, which is a blessing in and of itself.

Be joyful!

Hands…

1-mother-and-daughter-holding-hands-lee-avison

A post came up on my Timehop app today from back in 2015. I was still driving my daughter to school at that time and she would have been in the 7th grade. That morning, she touched my hand and commented on how my veins stand out. I explained to her that is what happens when you get older. Your hands seem to always give away your age. She stroked the top of my hand again and said tenderly, “well mom, I like the way it looks.”

Interesting that my immediate thought was something negative about myself. In fact, my response back to her was obviously an attempt to lighten some harsh blow that was inevitably about to come from her observation. Yet instead, she was observing something that she noticed and liked about me, unprompted and uninhibited. I remember thinking that day about my own mother’s hands. I also have a fondness for her hands. I always liked the way her hands look. I wonder if my hands look like my mom’s hands? Then, I thought about the tender touch and comfort that can come from the loving hands of a mom. A mother’s hands wipe away tears, caress faces, gently rub and comfort burdened backs, and firmly grasp their children’s hands perfectly.

I also remember wishing that I could see myself through my daughter’s eyes that day or maybe even my mother’s eyes. Better yet, maybe I could see myself through my Father’s eyes each day, remembering fulfilled promises He has given me in both my own mom and daughter. Maybe this week, I will look around at the many hands around me. Who needs their hands held in prayer? Who needs a loving squeeze of reassurance? Who needs a hand to hold when the going gets tough? Who needs a meal prepared and delivered? Who needs a tear wiped from their cheek?

Father, help me be aware of opportunities to be Your Hands this week. Thank you for my mom, my daughter and these old hands made in your image. Help me use my hands wisely and boldly. And thank you for the hands that Jesus stretched out on the cross to save us all.

Be joyful!

“And Mary said: ‘My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant. From now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me— holy is his name. His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation.’” Luke 1:46-48 NIV