Dandelion in the Fall

I went for a walk today. I needed a major attitude adjustment. Too much stuff to do, not enough time, too many people needing a piece of me--too many balls to juggle. You know--the standard fare. As I walked, the blue sky opened up before me. The sunlight glistened off the brilliant fall leaves, moist from the dew and the rains from the previous day. It was stunning, but my heart and head were burdened. The to do list grew heavy on my shoulders and it seemed to swallow me up--even as all around me the crisp autumn breeze beckoned to allow my cares free flight. I thought about Jesus' promises. "Come to me all ye who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, for my burden is easy and my load is light. Learn from me for I am kind and humble of heart." I repeated it over and over. How? If I take my yoke off, will He catch it? How can I lift my yoke to give it to Him--couldn't He just take it? Do I have to take His yoke before He takes mine? These questions swirled in my head.

I had been so involved in helping my oldest son with his homework this week, that I had completely forgotten about something I was supposed to help my youngest son with. The guilt was heavy on me. It was going to be just fine--but that didn't change the fact--not enough of me to go around.

I kept walking. Surely, if I repeated this verse often enough I would begin to believe it, to feel it, to really experience it. I just had to say it with faith. Walking. Walking. Through tears, reciting. Then, there it was--on the side of the road, in the shade of a mailbox on October 29--a brand new dandelion just opening up. I stopped and wondered what kind of crazy flower would begin blooming now when the temperatures at night were teasing the freezing mark? What kind of foolish bloom would flourish when the days are at their shortest, the wind cooler each day, and the sun growing dimmer with each passing hour? I marveled. I knew why it was there. I needed to take a lesson from this flower.

Despite a flurry of dead and fallen leaves around it--this flower bloomed. Though, the seed fell in the barren soil right beside the road--where the salt and the sand from the winter plow trucks made the growing conditions oppressive--this flower bloomed. Though June brought flooding and constant rains that could have rotted the seed away, it remained steadfast, clung to the sand and in the right time--it bloomed. Though winter ominously hovered, and autumn light was slipping away, this flower had done what it was supposed to do. Though cold fall rains had pelted the soil and brisk winds had whipped across the ridge, this dandelion remained stalwart and accomplished it's purpose.

It's strength was in its weakness. It was not strong enough, nor placed in conditions ideal enough to bloom, when it was "supposed" to. But, because it had to struggle and withstand so much during a difficult summer, it was blooming now--resolute against the crisp October winds. It stood alone, an early spring flower blooming even when the hydrangeas and the mums were starting to wither. I marveled.

I need to bloom where I am planted. I need to be there for my son struggling with school, the one who is excelling in school, and the son who spends his whole days inventing Lego models in his mind. I need to bloom for my husband who counts on me to hold it all together, for my patients who count on me to be compassionate, and knowledgeable and present. I need to bloom for my friends who count on me when they need to talk to a someone who cares. I need to bloom for my parents and family who depend on me in countless ways. I need to do what I am purposed to do and not wither and wilt under the harsh autumn winds. God is responsible for where I am and how I got there. I am responsible for staying and doing the work before me. He will be responsible for the results, I just need to remain. Thank you God for a dandelion in October, just when I needed it.

Beauty for Ashes

In 1 month Peter and I will be celebrating our 10th anniversary. Many women my age are celebrating almost double that--but for me it is an important milestone. It is the 10th anniversary of when the Lord made beauty out of the ashes of my life. I had been married for nearly 8 years and was 4 months pregnant with Isaac when my husband at the time announced he no longer wanted to be married and he didn't want to be a father. It was devastating. I will not delve into all the details because they are not important now--except to say at some point in our lives God will give each of us a chance to show us His provision. We can choose to allow Him to control the outcome, and make beauty from the ashes of our life, or we can struggle and strive like a fish out of water clamoring for the next breath--instead of looking up to the very Giver of Life who allowed this trial in our life.

Out of pure emotional and physical exhaustion God sovreignly put me in a place where I had no ability or means to fix what had transpired. There were no choices in my hand, only the choice to walk forward in faith and know that if I was going to raise Isaac and be a single Mom unexpectedly, that God would provide and take care of me and my child. I decided that since I wasn't capable of working out the details, and was powerless to change almost everything-- I had to let go and let God.

He came through abundantly as He always does. Answered prayers and provision rained down on me. No, my marriage wasn't saved--but God had other plans. Through it all He taught me to trust Him for everything---even for unanswered prayer. I learned a "No" from a loving Father is as much a provision as a "yes". I learned that being still and waiting is an excercise in faith, and that even when you don't see God's hand moving--He is working behind the scenes, in hearts, never resting, never ceasing to love and care for those who trust in Him.

I learned that sometimes God gets your attention by knocking you on your butt and taking all your stuff away. And, while not a pleasant lesson--it certainly makes a lasting, lifetime impression.

I learned that God works through people--moves in them and in circumstances to show himself--not in blinking neon signs that point the way.

I learned personally how God can take the biggest tragedy I have experienced and turn it to good--in such a profound way that I can look back and rejoice that I went through it. How is that possible? How does He take something so dark, so tragic, so heartbreaking and turn it into the best thing? I don't understand it.

I understand this. God redeems that which the locusts consume. He gave me Peter. He brought me a tender, loving, wonderful man. God constructed our family from ashes. I don't know how He does that--but I'm grateful He does. In one month we will celebrate that milestone--the 10th anniversary of God's miraculous work. Amazing love....how can it be?

Freeze Time

Many things get put aside in a move. We moved into this home two years ago and in the midst of boxes and renovations 3 pictures of my kids were put aside when one of the frames was damaged. As I hung the pictures that represented my children four years ago, I stared into the faces of a 7 year old Isaac, 5 year old Caleb, and a 3 year old Logan.

Logan had a boo boo on his chin that didn't heal for months because he wouldn't leave it alone. I even made him little gloves to wear in his sleep so he wouldn't pick in his sleep. There he was with a wide eyed grin, arms crossed in a standing pose--with a big boo boo on his chin.

Caleb posed for his picture with his usual impish smile lighting up the room. He had just entered kindergarten and he was loving every minute of Mrs. Holmes class and all the new friends he had made.

Isaac was losing teeth. His mischievous grin revealed the Tooth Fairy had been very busy at our house. As I looked at my eldest son I was overcome with a feeling of sentiment--they were growing up too fast. Wasn't it just yesterday I had held my baby boy and became a Mom?

I sat staring at the pictures I had just hung on the wall. I felt as though I was at the precipice of the hill of a big roller coaster ride--just ready to go over the edge--rounding the corner to the big drop as time unrelentingly presses forward and the unyielding cogs of days and years slip away.

They had changed so much. In the picture Logan still had his infant-like chubby cheeks. Now he is a long and lean boy of nearly seven. Caleb can read, is a math whiz, and dazzles us with his balloon animal creations and the science facts he knows. Isaac is our soccer star, so quick on his feet and intense in his art and everything he puts his mind to. Little men with their own personalities and interests, friends and schedules. They grew up before my eyes.

I am surrounded by empty nesters. In my work almost all the women have either raised their kids, or this fall had driven their last child off to college. I saw the mixed emotion of excitement and longing in these friends as they wrestled with that feeling of wanting to keep their kids little--but also wanting them to be successful and independent adults.

Here it was. Blink. In the midst of a busy move and a busy life. Blink. Three little boys. Blink. Grew up so fast. They're still here. Blink. They're still little. Blink. I'm going to enjoy every minute of this rainy day with them. Blink. Because we never know about tomorrow. And when I blink--they will really be big, and they will have their own life and my job will be much different. For now they still need me and I will enjoy this minute.

Giggling Dreams

Logan just giggled in his sleep. As I sat in the quiet wee hours of this chilly morning, ushering in October--I wondered what fanciful thought would make an almost seven year old boy giggle in his sleep. Most assuredly there were Legos involved. Had one of his Lego "guys" parachuted into a marshmallow field? Had they hunkered down to spy their enemies amid clouds of chocolate mist? Were they doing flips in Lego moon buggies he'd created, over mounds of macaroni and cheese? Had he finally worked out a problem in his head--as he spends hours manipulating all the Legos in his creations, always the perfectionist, never quite satisfied. I guess I will never know.

I'm sure when I have to wake him for school, and I ask him about his dreams he will long since have forgotten all the wonderful things that were floating around his beautiful head of tousled curls. He will stare wistfully at me with those big pools of brown eyes not knowing what I'm talking about. He'll utter something about the evils of structured education and how he just wants to be a Lego Designer and he doesn't need to go to school because he already knows how to do that. Then I'll
tell him that I know he's a good Lego designer, but he needs to know how to read and write well so he can write the directions to his models, and he needs to know math so he can keep track of the money he'll make from his models. It satisfies his seven year old ambitions just long enough so my sleepy babe can stagger down to his awaiting bowl of Cheerios.

I may never know why my youngest son just giggled in his sleep, but I will relish it. I have lived nearly half my life now and have seen and gone through many things. I have had wonderful dreams and smiled in my sleep, and I have lived through nightmares and awakened to my pillow wet with tears. I'm so grateful that Logan's life is safe and carefree enough right now that he can giggle in his sleep. Sleep Well and God Bless my Baby.

More Motherly Musings

1) They should not make white shirts in sizes 6T or less. It is counterintuitive and cruel. I believe they're in cohorts with the bleach manufacturers. It's a conspiracy against moms everywhere.

2)Something will inevitably be moving--either their body or their mouth. Administer instructions for stillness and quiet with great discretion--then be willing to follow through when it doesn't happen.

3)You can never give too many hugs or say "I love you" too many times.

4)Memories are made in ordinary moments, so make the ordinary times good.

5) Big people need to say sorry sometimes too.

6) If you go to Quebec with a 2 year old do not order the beef fondue that you have to cook when it arrives to your table in a cute little fondue pot. You'll be eating steak tartare and people will be cursing you in French.

7) You're never too big for bubble stuff.

8) Bag balm gives wood furniture a luxorius sheen. (See The Virtues of Bag Balm)

9) Often the things we see in our children that upset us are merely reflections of behavior we have modeled.

10)I have not found 1 insect that has survived a spin cycle.

bionic Ears and Other Parental Superpowers

Bionic Ears and Other Parental Superpowers


If you are a parent you have probably never thought about yourself as a superhero, but everyday you perform wonderful feats of physical prowess. For example, the other day I was going through mail as our children played in the other end of the house. They had asked to watch a movie, but I had told them, “later”. Over the sound of opening letters and crumpling paper I heard the distant, faint clicking sound of a DVD case being opened, yards away. Busted! I called out the child’s name who I expected was in violation of the “later” order. The culprit, correctly identified, came scuffling down the hall. Parents exhibit these superpowers daily. Over a myriad of other household noises, unseen to eyes, think of all the faint sounds of mischief you have intercepted. Not even kryptonite could keep an attentive parent from the task of protecting their fledglings from unknown dangers and untold “naughties”.
Can you identify a child by only the pitter patter of her feet coming down the hall? If someone coughs do you know who it is? If your child cries on the playground, can you pick him out amidst other cries and squeals of laughter? Then you are also gifted with bionic hearing and parental superpowers! I have witnessed this ability in almost every parent I’ve ever known.
We recently watched “March of the Penguins”. In one of the scenes I was amazed as the baby penguins, left on the ice alone by mothers who must start the almost 70 mile trek to the ocean to feed, await their father’s return. Even though there are throngs of squawking infant penguins greeting the returning father’s, they correctly identify which baby penguin is theirs. As I thought about human parents, I realized we have this same gift. I have seen my friends in a playgroup leave the room in an instant when they hear a faint cry from their toddler in the other room. The other Moms continue their conversation and hardly miss a beat, until they hear something amiss with their child.
Hand in hand with this amazing power to hear and correctly identify your young, is the ability to tune out unwanted stimuli. This is called, “selective listening”. Perhaps you’ve heard of it. Toddlers love to exhibit this behavior, but you may even recognize it in yourself. Before I had kids I would sit in a restaurant next to unruly children and wonder how the parents could possibly be so oblivious. Oh how sweet the ignorance! Little did I realize that it’s not lack of compassion, or ambivalence. It’s called survival. You see even the most cautious and loving parent after a certain point begins to tune out noxious stimuli. Eventually most parents “come to” and correct the problem. But sometimes the noise and business of childhood can become like the low roar of an airplane engine. After awhile, it’s reassuring because you know the plane is still in the air, and it lulls you to sleep. This is my theory for explaining why the same Mother can hear the tinkling of a forbidden cookie jar opening from yards away, but seems not even to notice the child bouncing off the walls in the doctor’s office, right next to her. She has a sense that her child is generally well, given the fact that his voice echoes off the walls. She senses his movement, as he bounces from chair to chair performing gymnastics that defy many laws of nature. Throw in a few nights of sleep deprivation, a traumatic grocery shopping trip, and you have a Mom exhausted from sensory overload who fails to act. However, when that same child does a double twisting somersault off the end table, and bumps his forehead on the way down, that bedraggled Mom will leap to her feet in a nanosecond, defying gravity. She will scoop up her injured cub faster than Spider Man could spin a web to soften the blow.
Besides bionic hearing, and the ability of selective sensory input, there’s the rarely celebrated super power of multi-tasking. There are few jobs other than parenthood where you get to bounce an infant on one hip, stir a pot of soup with the other hand, clasp a phone between your ear and your shoulder, fix your toddler’s stuck wind up car with your free foot and download pictures for the Grandparents all at the same time. Amazing! Truly a study in physical prowess, no matter what shape the parent is in. It’s probably a good thing that no one really knows what the physical demands of parenthood will be before they undertake it.
Perhaps in time our culture will come to appreciate the mental stoutness, physical fortitude and ingenuity that parents display daily. When that happens I expect that the Olympics will be changed forever. The venues may include such things as running a measured course with three kids hanging off your legs, and changing diapers at the speed of light. Perhaps the all time coveted prize would go to the “Iron Mom” who braves screaming toddlers and nagging teenagers while pushing 100 pounds of groceries through a store, all the while avoiding purchases that contain Saturated Fats. Ahhhh. That will be the day.

Kim Mihelich

For This We Give Thanks

For This We Give Thanks


It’s the week after Thanksgiving. The golden brown and juicy bird that graced the center of our table has morphed into stew and fricassee, and the bottom of the leftover pile…turkey salad sandwiches. As we resume our hectic schedules it is easy to get caught in the flurry and forget the grateful pause we took on Thanksgiving Day. But surely, we all have so much to give thanks for throughout the year.
A few days before Thanksgiving we were making a “Thankful Tree”. I had pruned a lilac bush in our yard. We took the branches, placed them in a pot and decorated them with foam cut out leaves on which we wrote the many things we were thankful for. The answers were very predictable; God, Family, Food, Home, Our dog, Toys and teddies, Jobs, Cars etc. We helped the younger kids write down their answers, as they reviewed their small world for things to be grateful for. Our oldest son, who is just learning how to read began to sound out his own answers and formed his own little pile of thankful leaves he had written in his own hand. . The boys waited for Mommy to sew a string on their colorful leaves. As I finally got to our oldest son’s pile, I burst out laughing at the final leaf. On that leaf he had written he was thankful for “Toes”. His reasoning was very logical. He told us, “Without toes, you fall down a lot”.
For a day or so every time I walked by our Thankful Tree I burst out laughing at that wonderful answer. However, the more I pondered it, the more I realized what a blessed and innocent place that was to be, to be grateful for the simplest, most basic things that most people do not even give a moment’s thought to. How often are we dissatisfied with what we have, simply because we don’t recognize all the gifts we’ve already been given? Our eyes are full of longing for more, but blinded to the blessings lying at our feet. As the Christmas season gets into full swing, let’s not forget the day we took to remember all we have to be thankful for. For no matter what your situation right now, if you really count your blessings, you will find many, from your head to your toes.

Kim Mihelich