Category Archives: Parenting Life

Jon’s First Kiss

I took Jonathan and his younger brother, David, to the mall one day to buy them some needed new clothes. As boys are prone to do, they had either worn out or outgrown everything they owned.

We cruised endless clothing racks, the boys tagging along behind me.

“What about these?” I kept asking them as I pushed hangers aside.

They were obviously bored. Most males are not big fans of shopping unless they’re looking at toys (adult males included), but to make sure items fit properly I wanted them to try things on.

While I was focused on David and what he needed, Jon wandered off. I turned my back for a few minutes and he was gone. Again.

“Where’s your brother?”

How often has David heard that question through the years? He was only seven or eight years old at the time but had already figured out he was his older brother’s keeper.

“I don’t know.” He sighed.

I frantically turned in a complete circle hoping to catch a glimpse of Jon’s head moving between displays and quickly shoved the pants draped over my arm back on a rack.

“Let’s go find him, I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “Hurry!”

I immediately had visions of Jon wandering outdoors or out into the mall and some creep abducting him.

We rushed through the boy’s and men’s department, calling his name. We checked fitting rooms and bathrooms and I was just beginning to panic when I noticed a crowd gathering over in the women’s department.

I grabbed David and steered him toward a pointing and laughing group of people.

As we came closer I saw him. Jon was standing on a slightly raised circular platform with three female mannequins arrayed in short, tight dresses, the kind I couldn’t wear anymore after giving birth to this child who was in a full lip lock with the center plastic lady.

My son was kissing a mannequin in the middle of Sears Department Store.

There are moments in parenting you’d prefer no one associate you with your child. This was one of those.

I pushed my way through the crowd and turned to all the folks watching my kid make out with a mannequin.

“Whose child is this?” I asked.

They all looked at each other and shrugged. A woman over to my left sheepishly replied, “I don’t know.”

I glared at them in disgust. “Well don’t you think the responsible thing to do would be to find his parents. They’re probably worried sick about him.”

Their fun interrupted, the crowd stared at me like they’d all just been sent to time out.

“If no one else is willing to find this kid’s mom then I will.”

I turned and marched up on the platform unwrapped Jon’s arms from the mannequin, pulled his face off her fake, botoxy lips and yanked him out of that store so fast, no one had time to wonder if I might be abducting him.

We sped through the parking lot to the car.

“What about my new pants?” David shouted as he ran beside me. So now the pants were important all of a sudden?

“Not today.” I answered.

“But you promised us a pretzel and an Orange Julius,” he whined.

“Not today.” I growled.

Years later, when David had been away at college a while, he called one day. We talked about his classes, what he was learning, his dorm adventures and his friends.

“Yeah,” he said, “I’m just not into the drama that goes on around here sometimes. My friends all think it’s amazing that I hardly ever get mad or embarrassed about anything.”

“So why is that?” I asked him, interested to know myself.

“I just tell them, I grew up with Jon.”

Shopping With Jon

It had been over a month since Jon left the house. He goes through stretches where he just doesn’t want to go anywhere even though I offer to take him out three to four days each week.

Sunday I came home from church to find him dressed in clean clothes with shoes on. That’s the signal for “I want outa’ here,” so I dropped my plans for a relaxing afternoon and off we went.

Jon needed a haircut and since the barbershop where I usually take him is closed Sundays we headed to the salon I frequent in a nearby plaza, which also houses our neighborhood grocery store, a nail salon, a dollar store, a Chinese takeout and a Subway. After his haircut, Jon decided to walk over to the grocery.

My son doesn’t ask for much. He doesn’t care about the latest tech gadget, smart phone, brand name clothes, gas money or car payments. He doesn’t pay rent or a mortgage or need expensive guy toys – boats, jet skis, motorcycles or classic cars – so when he occasionally decides to wander in a store for some shopping I really don’t mind dropping a few bucks on him.

We slowly wandered the aisles for almost two hours making four passes from front to back and end to end until my feet and ankles started screaming, “Enough already!” He wanted to make sure he didn’t miss anything. Several times, I had to resist the urge to take things out of the cart and put them back when he wasn’t looking.

His impromptu grocery list looked something like this:

Package of cheese hot dogs

Hoagie rolls

Bag of York peppermint patties

Large Hersey bar

An individual piece of white cake from the bakery

Jar of Tostitos white cheese dip

Bag of cheese and sour cream potato chips

Bag of Frito’s

Package of AAA batteries

Package of turkey pepperoni

Package of beef jerky

Container of shaved Parmesan cheese

Large bottle of yellow Gatorade

And four peaches

Other than the peaches and the Parmesan, I cringed as I paid for his pile of junk food and the batteries we didn’t need because we had a drawer full of them at home already.

After his groceries were loaded in the car, he headed for the Chinese takeout. And we took it out, right next door to Subway where I ordered a salad. Jon took my drink and chips to accompany his fried rice and chicken chow mien. We stayed there until they kicked us out when the place closed at ten.

I’ve come to the conclusion in matters of food choices Jon is no different than most Americans, so God’s gotta’ keep me upright and breathing for a very long time. My son needs me to make him a salad now and then and healthy meals that actually provide him with some much needed nutrients.

Just hoping no one lets him do his own grocery shopping all the time, after I leave this planet. If they do he’ll be joining me much sooner than expected!

I Am Enough – Secret Prayers of an Overtime Mom

It was pastor appreciation Sunday. I sat in church next to my husband with the rest of the pastor staff scattered across three sections of front row seats. A large basket was in the foyer, a place for people to drop cards and notes for the staff and someone was in the pulpit speaking words of blessing and thanks over our lead pastor and his family.

But my mind was elsewhere, still home with Jon. Lost in the rough week we’d had together. There’d been extra struggles and a few wandering episodes. I felt wearily overwhelmed and as I fought back tears, sent up a silent prayer to my Heavenly Father.

“God, I’m so thankful for this church family where we’re blessed to serve. This appreciation thing is great but what I really need to know is You’re pleased with what I do everyday with Jon. I know taking care of him is my top priority but some days are such a struggle and I need to know I’m doing OK. When I meet you in Heaven, the only thing I want to hear You say is, “Well done daughter. You were faithful to carry out the task I assigned you. Good job!” That is all I really want, Lord. I desperately need to know I’m doing enough.”

According to national statistics about 29% of the adult population cares for an ill or disabled family member. Full time care-giving is a solitary mission field, with few furloughs. Some people choose it as a career, work eight hours, collect a paycheck and go home. But for family caregivers it is literally about laying aside their own life, putting personal hopes, dreams and ambitions on hold, often indefinitely, for another. This act of love requires daily unselfish sacrifice performed by flawed and innately selfish people…like me.

There’s a constant challenge of balancing my son’s needs against what I want and need and dealing with the tension and guilt this can bring, and it often feels like I’m never enough. So I prayed this prayer, gave it all over to God’s capable hands again and went on with my day.

Later, after arriving home, I changed clothes and left for the restaurant where Jon had gone with his caregiver, to relieve her of her duty. Once there, she informed me the manager of this buffet style restaurant was not happy about my son’s presence in his establishment. He kept sending the waitress over to tell her she wasn’t watching Jon properly and Jon was taking too much food.

Neither was true, never mind the fact it was an all-you-can-eat buffet. I spent the next few hours dealing with the customer-service-inept manager and his sidekick waitress, until Jon finally finished and was ready to leave.

On the way out, Jon stopped in the entrance area to check out the arcade machines. As I waited for him, a man standing near the front door approached me.

“Is that your son?” he asked, pointing toward Jon

I replied by a yes-nodding of my head.

“Well, I don’t know what this manager’s problem is but I’m so sorry for the way your son was treated here. What’s his name?”

“His name is Jon, and thank you. I don’t think we’ll ever come back here again.”

The man looked at Jon then back at me. “Me either,” he said with disgust. “The manager was even going around to some of the customers complaining about Jon, telling them he shouldn’t be here. I finally told him to leave your son alone. I didn’t see him doing anything wrong, other than being slow and that’s no big deal.”

I smiled and thanked him again as his wife came out of the restroom and joined us by the door.

“Look,” he said, “the real reason I wanted to talk to you is because I felt I should tell you something. I don’t know you or anything about you and your son other than what I’ve observed here today, but I felt strongly I should tell you…that God wants you to know…you are an amazing mom, you’re doing a good job with that young man and God is pleased with your faithfulness.”

By then I’d forgotten all about my morning prayer but this man’s words mirrored my own so exactly that I immediately started to cry. Then these two strangers put their arms around me and prayed for me right there, outside that horrible restaurant, prayed for me to have the strength and wisdom I needed to continue to care for my son and for Jon to fit perfectly into God’s plan for our life.

God, in his mercy and kindness, didn’t make me wait for Heaven to let me know He has everything I need to accomplish my task. He heard my prayer and cared enough to whisper His reassurance into the heart of a willing messenger.

On the hard days, I remember this and think of how much God loves me, enough to tell me…

In Him, I am enough.

And that is all the appreciation this overtime mom will ever need!

Isaiah 49:28-29 “Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Everlasting God, the LORD, the Creator of the ends of the earth does not become weary or tired. His understanding is inscrutable. He gives strength to the weary, and to him who lacks might He increases power.”

Matthew 25:23 “Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a few things; I will make you ruler over many things. Enter into the joy of your Lord.”

The Test of Tenacity – My Special Education, Lesson #7

I’d been after Jon all day to get in the shower. At 11 pm he decided he was going to use our bathroom, the one in the master bedroom.

Husband was already asleep. I was getting ready for bed. And here comes Jon, finally ready to cooperate.

There are three full bathrooms in our house, one of which is attached to Jon’s room, but he wanted ours. That wouldn’t be so bad if he was in and out in ten minutes but Jon takes a shower like he does everything else.

He’s in there three or four hours. I’m talking one or two o’clock in the morning. Light glaring in my eyes, water running, talking to himself, banging around getting into all our stuff, obsessively lining it all up on the counter and the edge of the tub like it’s his and dropping stuff into his shorts pockets when he leaves the room, like it’s his.

So I told him no.

“Sorry Jon, you’re not using our bathroom this time of night. There’s two more in the house. Go use one of those.”

The scowl face appeared, his back turned to me and statue mode set in; body language that says, “You can’t make me.” I knew I was in for a battle and needed to be as stubborn as he is for victory. But I was tired and just wanted to go to sleep.

Over the next hour I popped out of bed to chase him out of our room every five minutes. Jon has the tenacity of a dog tick when he really sets his want to on something. I eventually got up, grabbed my iPad and locked both of us out of the bedroom. After all, it’s been many years since he’s been small enough to pick up and move or send to time out. It was the only way I could think of to redirect him.

I collapsed into our family room’s comfy chair, turned on my iPad, swiped through the channels on the TV app to HGTV and promptly fell asleep. When I woke up two hours later, I half expected to find Jon still frowning at that locked door, instead a young couple was looking for a house in Australia’s Outback and Jon was just getting into the shower in the hall bathroom.

After my short night, I woke up thinking about the word tenacity. It’s not a word we hear often and is defined as: not easily stopped or pulled apart: firm or strong: continuing for a long time: very determined to do something: persistent in maintaining, adhering to, or seeking something valued or desired.

Such a great quality when applied to goodness, growth, goals, grace, Godliness and those times when we need to push hard to get through to the other side; the don’t quit, keep on going parts of life; when backing down or giving in are not an option. Discernment is definitely needed for exercising tenacity in the right place and at the right time.

I’ve come to appreciate Jon’s tenacity, even though it’s sometimes misdirected. Hope more of it rubs off on me. Our standoffs over getting him in the shower are helping some. In fact being Jon’s overtime mom presents me with plenty of opportunity to practice.

An important requirement for this job is unwavering tenacity. I think I read it in the special needs parenting manual once. No one has fired me yet for all the times I haven’t performed well.

So I’m still on the job.

Still learning the importance of being tenacious everyday.

With no plans on giving up anytime soon.

Hebrews 10:23 “Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful.”

Galatians 6:9 “And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.”

Hebrews 10:36 “For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised.”

What Mom’s Really Want – After Mother’s Day Thoughts

I arrived home from church yesterday, after a wonderful service themed around honoring mothers. My breakfast nook was bright with a beautiful medley of flowering plants in a pretty container-a gift from my husband.

A dozen red roses adorned my kitchen counter, a striking orchid was on display in the middle of the kitchen island, and my pantry was stocked with more tea flavors to add to my already ridiculous collection-a gift mailed to me from my youngest son and daughter-in-law; signs that I’m not forgotten on Mother’s Day.

After Jon’s caregiver left, I knocked lightly on his bedroom door and peeked in. “Hi Jon, how ya’ doing dude? We just got home from church.”

He didn’t respond or look up.

“Do you remember today is Mother’s Day? How would you like to take me out for lunch today? I’d like to spend the day with you and Dad and I’m hungry. Are you?” I smiled even though he wasn’t looking at me.

Jon’s face turned to a scowl, the one that could mean in this moment, ‘don’t bug me’, ‘I don’t want to go’, ‘get out of my room’ or something similar. But I know him well enough to realize he could change his mind if I leave him alone for a while.

“Ok then, you think about it,” I said optimistically, “and come out when you’re ready but don’t take too long because Dad and I are hungry now. If you wait too long it will be too late to go,”

I shut the door and hoped.

Thirty minutes later I asked again and was met with the same response.

As the afternoon went by I realized his closed door was a “No” answer so I put a pizza in the oven, made a salad and Mike and I ate a late lunch.

I talked to a mom over the weekend whose only child is serving prison time. She tearfully told me how she raised him right, taught him morals, values and to put God first in life. She wanted him, loved him, worked hard to put him through private school and college and did everything she knew to be a good mom. But he grew up, made some poor choices and now both of them are living with those painful consequences.

As she poured out her heart, my own broke for her. I began thinking how this mothering thing doesn’t always turn out the way we want or imagine.

What we really want and need from our kids, is the same thing they want and need, as children, from us. We want them. Their time, their presence in our lives, their love and maybe more so after they’ve become adults. Maybe as our kids need us less, we need them more. We want hugs, big ones, real ones, not those sent over distance, Facebook posts or text messages (though I’ll gladly take those if that’s all I can get).

I appreciate the gifts, flowers, chocolate, tea and dinners but my deepest longing is to know, I’m not forgotten and my kids still love me – their flawed, mistake laden and very human mother.

Instead, some moms get a son in prison, a child passed away too soon, a miscarriage or infertility, a daughter who is estranged from them or a child like mine, who doesn’t know how to express himself clearly. And for these moms, Mother’s Day and everyday comes mixed with a bit of sadness.

Jon finally came out of his room long after the sun went down. I was relaxing in the family room in my favorite chair reading and drinking a cup of my gift tea. He found his dinner in the fridge and scavenged around in the pantry looking for snacks. Then he came next to my chair and stood there, his eyes flitting back and forth from the floor to my face.

I looked up and smiled. He smiled back then began singing an enthusiastic version of some Disney song while playing his ‘air’ guitar. He stayed near me smiling and singing nearly twenty minutes, glancing my way constantly to see if I was watching him.

I knew what that meant. “I see you Mom and this is what I have to give you on Mother’s Day. It’s the best I can do. I hope it’s enough.”

What I really want from him, he can’t give me. What I need from him, he still needs from me; to be recognized, acknowledged, affirmed and loved exactly for who he is.

There are no hugs, no sentimental cards, texts, Facebook posts, I love you’s or gifts from Jon on Mother’s Day but I receive with a little sadness and a lot of thankfulness the very best he can give me. A silly Disney song that says, “I know you’re still here.”

My oldest son didn’t take me out to lunch and my youngest son lives too far away and couldn’t be here but I know I am loved, even when life doesn’t play out exactly the way I hope, even when I wish for more.

So for all the mothers whose special day tends toward a measure of disappointment…

You are strong. You are resilient. You are amazing.

Contentment is learning to accept what is and finding peace inside it.

I pray you find God’s peace and unexplainable contentment in all of your unique, painful and incredible mothering moments.

It Takes a Mom

In John chapter six, the account of Jesus feeding the five thousand at some remote place along the Sea of Galilee, we find the five barley loaves and two fish Jesus ‘borrowed’ belonged to a child.

Of the five thousand men plus some women and children who showed up in the middle of nowhere to check Jesus out, didn’t anyone else think to bring food or was this boy the only one in the crowd willing to share what he had?

Then another question comes to mind. Who packed his lunch?

My guess? His mom.

It was probably another busy day. Bread to be made. Water to be drawn. Mouths to be fed. So much work to be done. But she packed her boy’s lunch and as Jesus took it, blessed it and miraculously fed a multitude, I doubt this kid was ever the same.

Jesus touched his lunch and his life.

The story doesn’t tell us who took the twelve leftover baskets home. But I bet it was the little boy and his family. Mom had no idea what would come back to her later that day.

They had food enough for a week, bread and fish touched and blessed by Jesus, the best leftovers ever, all because a mom got up in the morning and packed her kid’s lunch. Again.

Mom, are you’re bored with the ordinary tasks of your daily life thinking they or you don’t matter? Another meal to cook, another diaper to change, another load of laundry, another floor to sweep, another lunch to pack, another drive to school and another trip to the ball field equate to greatness when Jesus is in the midst of it.

He will take your small, mundane and seemingly insignificant efforts, bless them and multiply them back to you and your family.

The repetitiveness of mothering will multiply, day after day and year after year, until your children are grown and beyond. Every little thing you pour out and into them, comes back to you in exponential ways.

So get up today, tomorrow and the next day and do it again ’cause it takes a Mom to pack a lunch Jesus delights in sharing with others.

John 6:1-13 After this, Jesus went to the farther side of the Sea of Galilee—that is, the Sea of Tiberias. And a great crowd was following Him because they had seen the miracles which He performed upon those who were sick. And Jesus walked up the mountainside and sat down there with His disciples. Jesus looked up then, and seeing that a vast multitude was coming toward Him, He said to Philip, Where are we to buy bread, so that all these people may eat? But He said this to test him, for He well knew what He was about to do. Philip answered Him, Two hundred pennies’ worth of bread is not enough that everyone may receive even a little. Another of His disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to Him, There is a little boy here, who has five barley loaves, and two small fish; but what are they among so many people? Jesus said, Make all the people sit down. Now the ground was covered with thick grass at the spot, so the men threw themselves down, about 5,000 in number. Jesus took the loaves, and when He had given thanks, He distributed to the disciples and the disciples to the reclining people; so also with the fish, as much as they wanted. When they had all had enough, He said to His disciples, Gather up now the fragments, so that nothing may be lost and wasted. So accordingly they gathered them up, and they filled twelve baskets with fragments left over by those who had eaten from the five barley loaves.

The Price of Patience – My Special Education, Lesson #6

Being Jon’s mom and caregiver requires a lot of waiting. Waiting for him to get up, waiting for him to get dressed, waiting for him to eat, waiting for him to get in the car, waiting for him to get out of the car, waiting for him to cooperate, waiting for him by staying home when I’d rather not.

Always waiting. Waiting and more waiting. It feels like a large percentage of my existence is about waiting for Jon.

All this Jon waiting has somehow earned me the ‘patient person award’ according to many folks who are acquainted with our situation.

I’ve been told more times than I can count, what a patient person I am, as if I came by it naturally, like my hair or eye color or the big round birthmark on my right knee cap; as if I was born with patience already piled high in my chromosomes and it was this propensity for patience that qualified me to be Jon’s mom when God was handing out kids in Heaven one day.

“I don’t know how you do it,” is what people often tell me.

There are days I don’t know either.

What I do know is patience is not natural to the human psyche (even mine), and any I’ve collected so far has come at an enormous price. It is obtained through continual acts of giving self away and deciding to love unconditionally, by intentional practice, careful perseverance and persistent prayer.

Sometimes that prayer is nothing more than the desperate cry, “Help!”

I’ve found acquiring patience to be very costly, demanding and at times, downright painful.

2 Peter 1:5-8, lists eight virtues we should add to our character. One of them is patience. The word ‘add’ in this passage implies that we’re missing something, haven’t mastered it yet and like a diligent student, need to continue learning and practicing until we’re skilled. There’s nothing here that implies it will be easy.

Everyone I know resists the school of patience, wishing for the degree without going to class.

Many years ago as our youngest son, David, and I waited in a very long concession line at a movie theater, I witnessed a scene I’ll never forget. The young man working the counter accidentally spilled a large coke he had just poured for the customer in front of us.

The sticky mess spread all over the counter, ran under the cash register and started dripping to the floor. The station had to be closed while the mess was cleaned up and everyone waiting in our line had to move over to the end of another longer one.

The man behind us, who’d already been mumbling in my ear about the long wait, immediately exploded into rage, yelling and swearing at the poor employee, calling him names and announcing his incompetence for the entire lobby to hear.

Sadly, this man had his young son, possibly nine or ten years old, standing next to him and Dad was setting a model for an impressionable young mind, that was less than exemplary.

I remember thinking how this guy needed to live with our Jon or someone like him for a while so he could possibly experience an all inclusive transformation into a man with a speck of mercy instead of a selfish out-of-control fool; red faced, eyes bulging, veins popping and mouth contorted, spewing anger and insults, over a spilled coke!

In that moment I silently prayed for my children to never have to watch me acting like this man. I asked God to teach me to be more patient when life doesn’t go my way and humans don’t behave according to my expectations.

Most of us come into the world kicking and screaming. We demand our rights from the very first breath. We are selfish from birth. Our level of patience or lack thereof reveals our true self and it grows in how we respond to the various circumstances encountered throughout life, situations that test, stretch and challenge us to the core.

Colossians 3:12-13 tells me to “put on patience” with the idea that if I decide what to wear when I get dressed in the morning, I can also choose to be patient today, right now, even this minute.

It might feel impossible initially, but as God meets, with His grace, my desire to endure, patience grows in the midst of any inconvenience, hardship or annoyance a day might bring.

I admit, being the perpetual mom of a guy whose quirky behavior often pushes me to the limits of my own patience can be tricky. But because of my son, I’m continuously pressed into patience. I certainly didn’t start out with much but Jon helps me grow this character fruit a little more everyday.

There are worse things I could be doing than waiting a little longer, laying aside my time and desires for another and learning to let go when life doesn’t fit my preconceived conditions.

Jesus patiently put aside everything for me, His own rights and even His life and in reaching for the unlimited grace and goodness of the One whose greatest joy is to lovingly improve me, I can do no less for my son or for others.

2 Peter 1: 5-8 “And beside this, giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge; and to knowledge temperance; and to temperance patience; and to patience godliness; and to godliness brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness charity. For if these things be in you, and abound, they make you neither barren nor unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

2 Peter 3:9 “The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.”

Galatians 5:22-23 “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.”

Colossians 3:12-13 “Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another…”

Philippians 3:3-8 “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.”

Jon, the Midnight Chef

Apparently Jon wasn’t tired after our day out for his haircut, shave, manicure and dinner at Woody’s BBQ yesterday.

I left him at the restaurant with his caregiver and went back to pick him up after midweek church service. She said he didn’t order until 8:15. Since the place closes at 9, he brought most of his dinner home, but must have decided it wasn’t enough.

When I got up this morning, it looked like a bomb went off in my kitchen while I was sleeping.

All the lights were on. The peanut butter was out of the pantry partnered with a giant messy spatula and blobs of peanut butter goo on every counter surface. The jelly jar was next to the stove, smears and drips everywhere.

Toast had been made and because the butter dish was empty, Jonretrieved a stick from the fridge. It was melted to soup inside the upside down butter dish cover. I don’t even want to know how he pulled that off.

He ate all but one piece of an entire angel food cake (reserved for today’s strawberry shortcake) and a brand new can of whip cream was sitting empty on the counter. The residue of whip cream, cake crumbs and several used forks took up residence in one of my baking pans.

Sparse leftover reminders of his take home BBQ dinner were piled up at the island counter in front of the bar stool where he must have sat. Dishes, kitchen utensils and silverware were removed from cupboards and drawers.

The kitchen looked like we’d had an army over for Thanksgiving Dinner so the first part of my morning was spent washing dishes, wiping down countertops and sweeping floors.

I took Jon for a physical last week and he’s lost a few more pounds. He’s a bit too skinny right now so I’ve been encouraging him to eat up.

Maybe this midnight kitchen raid is proof that he does listen when I speak. I’d like to think so.

Or maybe he just enjoys feeling independent once in a while, making a few of his own choices without my running commentary in his ears.

No annoying Me, yapping at him:

“Put the peanut butter away and the spatula in the sink, please.”

“You got jelly all over the counter. Here, wipe that up.”

“You can’t eat the WHOLE Angel Food cake, Jon.”

“I just bought that whip cream. Please save some for the shortcake.”

Oh My Gosh, Jon! You can’t soften the butter that way, it looks like soup!”

And the zillion other things I’d have to bite my tongue in half to NOT say if I was present.

Whatever his reasons were, I hope he had fun without me. I’m sure I had more fun sleeping than watching him create disaster in my kitchen.

The Best 15 Minutes Of My Day

“Why did the cow cross the road?” I asked.

Jon’s eyes momentarily glanced into mine, then he shrugged. I knew he wouldn’t reply and continued to the punchline.

“Because the chicken was on vacation.”

He grinned slowly at first, and as he thought about it began to chuckle.

I love it when we connect, when Jon actually responds to me with something besides annoyance and frustration. I’m thrilled when my son emerges from his own world, interested in interacting. It happens so rarely that I try to drop whatever I’m doing and soak up the joy of the moment.

Our communication would seem juvenile and insignificant to an outsider, Jon singing me a Disney song or repeating a phrase from a movie, but I know it’s huge.

Today, when he began to lose interest and turned to walk away, I tried to hang on to it a little longer. I started reading him jokes from a website.

“Why do fish live in salt water? Because pepper water makes them sneeze.”

Got a smile from that one and also this one, “Where do sheep go on vacation? To the Baaaaahaaaaamaaas!”

Then, “What do you a call a pig who knows Karate? A Pork Chop.”

Jon thought on that one for a few seconds and shook his head. He expelled a long hiss, sounding like, “Ghhhheee,” and said to himself, “that’s not funny,” frowned, then turned away.

Just like that. One joke, determined to be dumb, and it was all over. I tried reading more as he walked away but the connection was gone, just like a computer system that had suddenly shut down.

For fifteen minutes, my son wanted to “talk” to me today. It might not seem like much, actually it’s never enough.

But it was the best fifteen minutes of my day.

My Homeschooling Discovery

I wrote this in 2007, the year our youngest son graduated from high school after years of homeschooling. He went off to college and is married now. If there’s anything I could say to homeschooling parents, I’d just want you to know that it’s worth it.

You can do this and it’s worth it!

I took our son, David, for his final home school evaluation. Twelve years of hard work and endurance coming to a close.

I never meant to home school from beginning to end, it rather evolved from year to year. I went into it reluctantly at first, feeling inadequate and overwhelmed, believing I did not have what it takes to teach my children all the things they need to know.

But along the way we learned so much together, not just about math, science, history and grammar but about relationships, cooperation, flexibility, diligence, sacrifice, character and many other important life lessons. I learned a lot about myself. It has been an amazing journey.

A seventy year old acquaintance once told me she was too old to learn anything new and didn’t want to be bothered with it anymore. “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” she said.

I disagree. As long as there is breath in us there will always be another discovery around the next corner, something new to try, uncover, understand and add to our brain cells and resume.

Learning is an everyday, entire life experience and isn’t confined to an age, a room, a book or answers spit back out onto a test page. Learning is not limited to eight hours days, five days a week, one hundred and eighty days a year.

In homeschooling we discovered the joy of spending time together figuring out answers to things we did not know, taking advantage of the tangents and tributaries of topics and subjects we found interesting and turning the events of every day living into teaching opportunities.

It is now my firm belief; children do not need teachers or adults in their lives who know everything. Children need to observe adults still loving the challenge of taking on something new and digging for answers to the next question.

Children need to know how to find answers for themselves so a love for life long learning is maintained.

There were schooling and child raising days that seemed long and hard but now that it is done, the speed of the passing years has left me surprised and emotionally unprepared for how happily fulfilled yet sad I feel all at the same time.

The flash cards, math games and bug boxes have been given away, the book shelves loaded with text books, notebooks and reading books are empty, the containers of categorized sea shells are no more. College looms in the very near future where our son will test his learning skills in a whole new environment.

Raising children is a lot like reading a good long novel, you can’t wait to get to the end to see how it turns out, until you read the last page, flip the back cover shut and feel a wave of disappointment because the story, so intriguing and full of twists and turns, is over.

There may be a bit of sadness that this story is over but there is no regret for how it ends. I will look back on these years for the rest of my days with satisfaction and joy. I gave it my best and, in spite of me and maybe even because of me, our son turned out alright.

Now that we have closed the book on this stage of life, I wonder what new challenge and discovery waits just ahead, certainly something new to marvel at or to uncover. I hope to prove that a willing old dog can continue to learn new tricks and getting older doesn’t have to be boring.

In the meantime, I will be thankful every moment after David has left home for all the good years we had learning together. No matter where he goes or what he ends up doing, nothing can change the bond that those years formed between us.

And when I think about that, I understand what the phrase ‘no regret’ really means!

A Place Called Special

a look inside a special life