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See...Robin...Dance ~ Five Minutes & Foreshadowing

Can't you see my soul & spirit dancing?!

Almost 25 years ago my husband gave me a gift that wasn't really a gift, but it was akind of giving in which I've taken great delight for decades, so we shall count it as one, okay?

My name.

Robin Dance.

And I'm of the opinion that our meeting was Divine and God was very much up to something back then, because truly, we were living in opposite worlds at the time, which in my complicated way of thinking means my Name Gift was just as much from Him.  

He gave me a name that matches my spirit.

It is common for people to comment on my name upon our first meeting because they rarely expect it to be as simple as it is--"Like, would you like TO DANCE?" and I alwaysalways want to reply with, "Why, YES, I'd like to dance!"  and sometimes I even do.  Say it...not do it.  

And so, today when my friend Lisa Jo shared her writing prompt and the theme was "Dance," how could I NOT write for five minutes-plus-a-little-longer about the very thing that has faithfully followed me like the sweetest of puppies for the longest of times?  

After three years of thinking about redesigning my blog, I'm finally moving forward at a snail's pace--unfortunately that's my version of Mach speed.  

Which is your first clue about where I'm headed.  

If you haven't already, why not subscribe to PENSIEVE in a reader or by email?  That way you can see the big reveal right when it occurs.  

All I can say is I'm pretty excited now that I know where I'm goin'....

Your turn:  Did you think something similar the first time you heard my name?  Or do you have a fun story about your own?  Or what thoughts come to your mind when you hear the word "dance"?  

Photo credit: Top, Mishelle Lane; bottom, Dawn Camp.  Both, brilliant photographers!

My favorte journal entry of all time

When my sister-in-law sorted through a mountain of schoolwork sent home with her children at the end of the year, she discovered precious treasure:  a journal entry by her youngest child and only daughter.  

Written before Thanksgiving last year, it told her what my niece REALLY thought about coming to visit our family for the holiday.

"Chadanewg" is my new preferred spelling for Chattanooga.

Erin's colorful turkey made me smile, her neat handwriting impressed me, but it was her spelling that made me want to pinch her to pieces; clearly this was her own work.  

Is there anything more appealing in a young child's writing than the way we get to see how they hear?  It's a window into their mind.

I immediately replied to my SIL's email to thank her for sending it to me; I told her it MADE MY LIFE and it was almost perfect.

 

If it's possible to appreciate someone else's artwork more than my own children's, Erin earned it with her post-completion edit.

Well, Miss Erin didn't care for my "almost" perfect assessment a.t. a.l.l.  So she exercised author's perrogative, tweaked her journal til it was just right, found a way to get rid of my annoying "almost," and found a way to do the impossible.

She made me crush her more.

 

Vulnerable

It is my Achilles' heel, the surest path to splinter my heart into shatters and chards.  

They are the surest path.  

My children.

I don't think they know it, but even if they do, it will be impossible for them to understand for years.  How could they understand until they sit in this chair?  Walk in these shoes? Look through my eyes?  

Until their own lives are extended for another generation, when slivers of their respective hearts dare to leave their body and inhabit the souls of my grands?  

They can't understand until then.

Children may leave the nest but they never leave your heart.

Mine are testing their wings.  

Do mother birds hold their breath when their babies are learning to fly?  Are they only proud or do they feel the pain of the fall?  

I'm reading three great novels threaded with hope and dream, woven into cliff hangers and uncertainty, a beautiful, imperfect tapestry telling a story.  Ours.  My family.  The left side is dog-earred and fading, the middle in focus with stitches visible, the right is just out of view. 

Being a parent leaves you sometimes wishing, often wanting and always praying.  

I hold my breath and watch.

The first is already spreading wings and catching thermals.  She soars, eager.  She scares me just a little because she's not scared at all.  

Her spirit is free and determined.  

Sometimes wishing.

The second, ooooh, that middle one. I know something about being middle.  His are the eyes that gleam bright when the world sparkles, when voices call.  Whose will he listen to?  

His spirit is passionate and a little dangerous.  

Always praying.

The sweet one, my last; not sweeter because he is last but simply because his nature is a friendly construction.  Kindness is his magnet.  

His spirit is curious and playful.  

Often wanting.

Train up a child...

Train up a child....

Wish.  Want.  Pray.

Hold your breath.

Cradle your heel.

Protect your heart. 

When they're old they won't be lost.

 

: : : : :

Inspired by my friend and fellow (in)courage contributor, Deidra Riggs.

Fifty, Failure and Buckets

What would you do if you knew
you could not fail?
~ Robert Schuller

 

March, 2012, near Erlangen, Bavaria (Germany). Soaring on blue skies and skipping on clouds.

 

Seriously, WHAT would you do if you knew you could not fail?  

At the top of my list you'd find paragliding, sky diving and hang gliding, all related to my fear of tumbling through space to a painful death  mangled limbs and paralysis for life heights.  This is one of those things I'd change about myself if change was as simple as willing it or wishing on stars.  

But it's not.  Sometimes I'm a fraidy cat.

A question I often ask when making important life decisions is

Do the advantages outweigh the risk?

It helps clarify perspective.  It forces me to consider potential benefit and satisfaction versus cost and consequence.

My 50th birthday is next year.

I think that's the first time I've written it...and though I've said it many times since my 49th, it feels strange clicking off my fingertips, seeing it in writing.

It seems important at this season in life to ask that question--What would I do if I knew I couldn't fail?  

On one hand I like the question; it compels you to DREAM BIG.  But I think I prefer a different question:  What will I regret not trying at the end of my life?

I'm working on a "50 Things for my 50th Birthday Celebration" bucket list; not necessarily to do before or while I'm 50, but 50 things that demand me to step outside my comfort zone, learn something new, challenge curiosity and convention, live more simply, see with new eyes.  Take risks. 

Will you lend me your imagination?  

I'd love to hear your suggestions for my bucket list; I know your creativity will ignite my own (especially if you already have a Life List with ideas).  If you're a blogger who's published a bucket list feel free to link the post in comments, too.

And I'd love for you to answer either question:

• What would you do if you knew you could not fail?  
• What will you regret not trying at the end of your life?

No pressure to share your answers out loud...but I think it's a wonderful exercise to consider the possibilities.

 :::: ::::

Written in response to Lisa Jo's Five Minute Friday writing prompt, "Risk," but I exceeded the time limit!  Once I began writing I wanted to finish the thought.  

Inspired deals

This month I have opportunity to host DaySpring's Inspired Deals at {in}courage...and with our travel coinciding with publishing dates (and/or my brain being to jetlaggy to think straight!), I forgot to share about it on my blog.  Oopsie!

I hope you'll at least click through to see what I'm talking about; there's opportunity for you to receive free products but there's also some story-telling involved.  And who can pass up a good story?  

Pop over to read Sharing/Wearing/Caring and Splashing Joy, two posts that invite you into conversation about publicly sharing your faith.

What a girl slings over her shoulder says a lot about her... :)

 

 

Amazing baby bird pictures

{l-r, Enee, MeNee, Mighty, Mo}

"Enee, Menee, Mighty, Mo," my father-in-law couldn't wait to introduce us.  He knew they would indefinitely hold me hostage, that I would thrill to their existence.  

Four baby birds living under his roof. Ordinary barn swallows (extraordinary to me).  Darlings of nature.

He urged me to see them the night I arrived, aware their nest was soon to be empty.   A man who goes to the trouble of naming four baby birds understands why it's important to hurry. He didn't want me to miss their show.  

So I watched them that night and again the next morning. When zoom on my camera wasn't enough, I pulled up a perch to get a closer look.  (Me wobblin' on a stool at the top of a small flight of stairs, now that's a picture!)

They look like little old men to me.

 

I was spellbound.  Those faces!  Expressive, curious, alike and yet different.  

Objects of my affection, they were impassive to my intrusion. The only thing they cared about was their mama.  I had no need for eyes in the back of my head; when she approached their body language told me she was on the way.

 

Below is my favorite, captured with my iPhone; the only shot with all four beaks simultaneously open.  They're a tiny aviary assemble!   

"Hall-le-luuuu-jah!!" (or maybe "FEED ME!!")

Barn swallows are sloppy nest builders.  They have no regard for their host families. But for those who can look beyond the mess, they're fun and fascinating to watch.  

A few more of my favorites; I wish they were crisper shots, but I didn't realize until after the fact I needed to adjust settings.

 

Look closely and you'll see the food in Mama's mouth.

You can actually see the transfer of food!

 

I was serious when I mentioned my father-in-law named them; he made a sign and posted it by their nest....

I thought it was Eenie, Meanie, Miney, Mo...but who am I to know how to spell??

But after observing them for a while, I would've renamed them....

 

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it's off to....

 

Uh-oh...I think I've been spotted...!

 

Hmph. Someone doesn't look happy...

 

I call him Angry Bird. There's an app for that.

 

I think I could give up television for good.  Don't get me wrong, I enjoy watching my favorite shows, but give me a roaring campfire or a storm coming in on the horizon or a nest of baby birds and I'm entertained and mesmerized. 

Does anything in nature do this for you?  DO tell me I'm not the only one!

 

 

Disappointment and redemption

"...I look back on the way I was then, a young, stupid kid who committed that terrible crime. I want to talk to him. Try and talk some sense into him...."
~ Red, to the Parole Board, Shawshank Redemption

 

If you're a parent, even if you've got The Best Kids on the Planet, there will be a point you're disappointed in the choices they and/or their friends make.  Even if you love their friends almost as much as your own, even if they're active in church or they're leaders at school, even if they're straight-A students.  Even if their transgression isn't that big of a deal in the overall scheme of life, even if it's not life or death, even if no one gets hurt.  Even if it's only a matter of style or opinion, or flaw-marred character or attitude in need of adjusting.

Even, even, even...!

I'm a mother to three older teenagers and I watch the fret and worry of mothers with their younger children and I wonder and muse their futures.  Mine, theirs, all of ours.

You rarely see what's actually coming.  

I've often thought about the wisdom of Red in this scene quoted from Shawshank Redemption; not that any "terrible crimes" were committed in my youth, just that my older self sure could have prevented my younger self from making some stupid, impulsive decisions.

I'm afraid stupid, impulsive decisions never go out of style.

So, when your children and their friends grow older and Do Stupid Things, when "try and talk some sense into them" is futile (or after the fact), when you're angry or hurt or horrified or a combination of all three, remember--

• time reveals perspective
• their poor decisions don't mean you've failed as a parent
• their brains aren't fully developed (though this is NO excuse for personal responsibility)
• sometimes we actually LEARN from our mistakes; hopefully whatever they did this time will prevent them from doing something much worse down the road
• You have to forgive them
• Love isn't conditional
• If they're believers, God is at work in them and even mistakes can be redeemed for good.

Two lessons all parents are served well to teach their children:

1. Their sin will find them out, sometimes in the unlikeliest of ways.  Make sure you have a "village."  Stay in touch with other adults, teachers, coaches and parents who are willing to risk your friendship/relationship by being honest.
2. There are always consequences to poor decisions.  For Shawshank's Red, it was prison.  For most of us, the price is less severe.  Sometimes consequences occur naturally, other times they're the form of punishment or restriction by adults; either way, let your children bear the weight of consequence.  It's a wonderful deterrent to "next time."

"Kids will be kids" is alright most of the time; but when kids aren't held responsible for their actions, adults or parents are the ones at fault.  

Broken trust is a challenge to restore but it can be done; make sure they earn it.

Thoughts?

 

 

Love Stuffed

I visited a friend recently whose home had been invaded by giraffes.

Stuffed with fluff and mile-wide toothless grins, they told me plenty about the home I was visiting:  it was a happy sort of place with a lot of littles underfoot.  Three to be exact, stairsteps from nine months to four years.

Oh, I remember that time of life! Just like my friend Kim, when my third was born my oldest was months away from her fifth birthday.  The days were long and some of them demanded e v e r y t h i n g  of me just to make it to bedtime.  Theirs...and then mine.  No one could have loved their babies more or savored each season with more relish than me, but that doesn't mean it wasn't hard at times.

Motherhood and ministry, Jesus and Germany, life and love--our conversation never stopped.  And no matter where we wandered in her home ~ usually to follow her babies ~ there was a giraffe or two smiling back at me.

I couldn't help mentioning it; something about them pricked my mama heart, I suppose the memory of my own daughter's collection of lovies.  Usually kitties, now given or boxed away. except for Princess, her Velveteen Rabbit.

But our time was limited and talk of giraffes swiftly moved on to other things.

Too soon it was time to go.

As we walked to the door to hug our good-byes, Kim pressed something soft and cuddly into my hand:

* * * * * * * * * *

Please continue reading Love Stuffed at (in)courage today where I figure out the absolutely BEST gift to give (or receive) :).

 

I had NO idea just how exciting this could be...how excited I would be!

Last fall I was contacted about contributing an essay for a collaborative print book project; everything about it seemed perfect:

• I've highly regarded the publisher almost as long as I could read (an arm of Guideposts).
• Through this Inspiring Voices project, author Margaret McSweeney compiled over 50 WONDERFUL essays related to motherhood from a diverse group of veteran and new authors.
• And what maybe thrilled me more than anything else, all proceeds from book sales was to help struggling women and children in true need:  
  • WINGS:  to help fund a safe house in the Chicago suburbs, where mothers and their children can flee from domestic violence; and
  •  Hands of Hope: to help build wells for school children in Uganda

Legacies, lessons and love were the over-arching themes of the collaboration, and, not only did I know I had to say yes, I knew exactly what I was going to write about--something that encompassed all three!

 

Eight months later I received my copy today...and I'm downright giddy with the end result!!  Smack dab in the center of the book, pages 80-82 to be exact, you'll find my essay.  

Is it a big surprise its title is A Princess Tale? 

As delighted as I am with a single chapter, I cannot image the joy and sense of accomplishment of writing and publishing an entire book!  Mother of Pearl: Luminous Lessons and Iridescent Faith would make a lovely gift for the mother, daughter, grandmommy or special lady in your life, and serve as a lovely mama-encouragement for you!  And proceeds from your purchase will make a difference in the lives of sweet mamas and children you'll likely never get to meet but who are grateful for strangers who care.

A little bonus I didn't expect was to see my sweet friend and Very Accomplished Grown-up Writer, Holley Gerth, with an acknowledgement on the front page.  That made all this tripley sweet.  

This seems to be a theme, too, with projects I've joined the past several months; both collaborative and related to motherhood. Before this Mother of Pearl project there was the beautifully written collaboration with another group--you might remember it:  The Mother Letters (grab that one for a steal!), brainchild of Seth and Amber Haines.

Sincere thanks to Amy Lathrop for seeking me out and connecting me with Margaret.  I'll be forever grateful to her for this beautiful milestone.  

(In case you'd like to purchase the book, I've included my Amazon affiliate link below.)

Thinkin' spot