Nikki is a loved wife, blessed mom, mere child saved by grace who strives daily to live like she deserves it. Before she was blessed with her role as a mother, her favorite jobs included teaching piano and working in interior design. She has a hard time saying no to peanut butter and chocolate and if you meet for coffee, a chai tea latte will be in her cup.
She journals her thoughts on a blog titled Simplystriving. There you will find her journey of seeking joy in the everyday while simply striving to become all that God has made her to be.
My knees practically touch my chin as we sit in a rain drop of little chairs. That’s what we call it now, this circle made by their own 4 and 5 year-old hands. When one notices most of us funneled together on one end, she comments “We took the circle and made it better. We made a rain drop.”
We decide then to worship in the rain here every Sunday. And my cup overflows…
I can’t help but laugh when I think of how I prepared for this lesson. How I expected to teach them new discoveries. New words to use in everyday conversations.
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Written on
September 5, 2012 by
Nikki in
Blog
They share the common armrest, leaning in close to exchange childlike whispers. Soon the adult daughter rises to check with the nurses. I catch the wristband-clad mother smile so wide she tears as she watches her child handle the hard with dignity. Wearing pride so radiant it nearly washes away the lines of worry.
Later I witness the same daughter leaving the doctor-assigned room with tears of knowledge. Dignity still in hand as she proclaims “At least we know. We’ll get through this.”
And I want to tell her mother: All she has poured into her daughter shows. She has every right to pool joy from her eyes while she watches the roles transform.
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My head spins, temples pound as I hear that three-letter word for the umpteenth time:
“Why?!?”
Before becoming a parent, I vowed to always respond honestly. I was never going to say “Because I said so.” No, I was going to take the time to reply wholeheartedly before they started looking for why’s answer elsewhere.
Keep in mind, this was before I was truly introduced to the age of four and fully grasped what children were capable of.
And I gave this day my very best shot. I went round and round, answering the same question multiple ways. My words few, my answers as honest as I thought he was capable of understanding.
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May I share something with you? I’m having one of those days months where no matter how hard I try, I don’t feel like I measure up.
We live in an age where I can compare myself to thousands of other women doing the same job I’m doing. I can read their blogs or spend time on Pinterest and catch glimpses of all the things they’re doing that I’m not. And never could.
I’ve never baked a flawlessly decorated cake for my son. I don’t sew or create magnificent scrapbook pages. The messiness of a sandbox gets the better of me sometimes and the thought of mud puddles or keeping any type of bug as a pet sends me into the fetal position.
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His stretching four-year-old frame climbs into his seat. Damp hands reach out to find mine. Shock sweeps passed as I realize I didn’t have to remind him today.
I don’t recall holding hands at the dinner table growing up. We prayed, but I don’t remember the hand holding. Not sure how we instigated it here, but I like it. The symbolism of joining together, praying in agreement. The removal of temptation to grab food before we’re done. Yes, I enjoy this moment each day.
Normally, my husband will pray first followed by my son if he feels so inclined. Not today.
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There’s no containing him. He squeals in delight as he gallops through the wet, sloppy grass. The curvy red slide calls to him like my reading chair calls to me. His hands wave with reckless abandon as if the movement will help him move faster towards his goal.
And I take that deep breath. The one where I remind myself control does not need to be mine. I can enjoy what comes my way. For there is joy to be found amidst the tall scaffolds of playground equipment.
You see, I wear worry like a fashion statement. Pain is something I try to avoid at all cost, especially when it can be inflicted on those I love.
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