life

I’ve never really been shy of being brutally honest, but this one topic, I am fearful of.  After the shooting in the Charleston church, which was clearly racially motivated, I feel like I can no longer be silent and just be the “cop’s wife” on subjects such as racism.  Bear with me as I wade through my feelings. I had an awkward exchange the other day that sparked a quiet debate in my head.  I placed a to-go order at a restaurant here in town, and sat down on a bench to wait.  Already sitting on the bench was a young black man, maybe 20/21 years old.  He was dressed nicely – button up shirt, slouchy blue jeans, clean tennis shoes and wearing dreadlocks in his hair.  He was clutching some sort of paper in his hand.  I noticed as I sat there, he straightened himself up a bit and inched about as far as he could to the arm of the bench.  There was at least a foot of space between us. I recognized in that moment, that he was just as terrified of me as he thought I was of him.  He already assumed that I thought he

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To my beautiful mother on Mother’s Day – You always told me when I was older and had children of my own, you would understand the reasons you did things the way you did. I get it now. Every time I look into your grandchildren’s eyes, I feel the enormous amount of pressure on me to do things not only the right way, but to do them well.  I see how they look at me to be their #1 source of their needs and their wants.  They need me every moment of every day to be behind them, encouraging them, leading them, and sometimes making choices for them. I know that when you look at Brooke Allen, you see me all over again – the way she talks, the way she plays, and the way she sasses.  In your frustration with me growing up, you warned me over and over again that I would have a child just like me one day.  I am absolutely reaping every seed that I sowed in my childhood, and will eventually reap my teenage years too. But the best part about that is, you are also reaping what you sowed in me.  I have

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To myself on this Mother’s Day… Look at you.  You look like a hot mess.  Your hair is on top of your head, your 7am make up is long gone, except for the mascara that has started to raccoon around your lower lids, and just how old are those sweatpants?  They probably at some point in your life fit a whole lot better than they do today, but the elastic is all worn out so it doesn’t matter.  Plus, you’ve been sucking in your leftover baby belly all day, so it’s time to relax and let it all out.  The bra is most definitely off, and your t-shirt is a sorority t-shirt that is older than your relationship with your husband. You’re tired.  You’ve spent all weekend chasing after children while your husband works.  You even had to work in the office while you carted the kids over to Gigi’s house.  Then you did church, grocery, Target, meals, bathtimes, and bedtimes all while wrangling children – one who wants to do everything herself, and the other who wants to chew everything he can get his chubby hands on.  You’ve poured countless cups of milk and folded the blanket at least four times.  Every

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I was not a good mom this weekend. This was your Daddy’s long weekend, and often on these weekends, I feel completely overwhelmed and worn out.  I don’t get many breathing breaks. On Saturday after work, I knew we were leaving pretty quickly from GiGi’s house to go get a prize for your excellent behavior last week.  You filled up your behavior chart except for two spaces, so that warranted a trip to the Dollar Tree.  I parked my car and ran in the house, leaving the garage door open, but being sure to lock the house door.  I always do this if we aren’t staying at GiGi’s long. You weren’t quite ready to go, so I dressed you and took JP upstairs to change his diaper.  GiGi was getting dressed in her room.  You joined me to help with JPs diaper and then you decided to go back downstairs.  I finished getting JP ready and then went to see how much longer GiGi would be.  She said you had not brushed your teeth yet, so I went downstairs to find you. Your new favorite game is hide and seek, so when I called your name, I figured you were hiding.  I put your brother

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In addition to Jen Hatmaker beating me over the head with words of wisdom this past weekend, she also gave me a new word.  She used it to describe herself, and I have adopted it as my own: Un-precious. You know how there are those people who are so kind and thoughtful when they speak?  Every time you are around them, you just feel like a warm blanket has been wrapped around your shoulders and they stroke your hair by a fireplace and tell you great stories and wise words and sage advice?  Then they pour you a cup of tea and you have hour long conversations about books and current events? Yeh.  I am not that person. If you know me personally, you are probably laughing because you are whole-heartedly agreeing with me. Instead, I am that person poking the fire with a stick yelling LOOK AT THIS GREAT FIRE I BUILT while doing a dance around it.  I am choking on the smoke and adding more logs to see how big I can make it, and possibly threatening to jump across it just to see if I can.  And I will ask you to wager a bet with me

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I’m going to say some things that might sound harsh and judgmental.  But please understand my heart and my purpose for writing this post.  My pastor made it very clear a few weeks ago that there are people who have been given the ability to tell it like it is, and they are to follow God’s direction in laying it on the line for their brothers and sisters – to which my mother nudged me so hard that I thought I was going to fall off my chair. I guess that person is me. I really take no issue with saying certain things.  I have asked for my heart to be opened for this blog, and this post has been on my mind for a few days.  If you want to call me judgmental, fine.  But let’s remember that we weren’t told not to judge – we were told to judge righteously  and call each other out on our sins (Galatians 6:1), and that we are to be careful not to be hypocritical within our judgments (Matthew 7:3-5).  I am certainly guilty of sins and errors, so a lot of this is introspective in things I am calling myself out on

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