family Archives - Page 4 of 7 - Lindsay Ross Blog

Sorrow that the eye can’t see.

Here’s something I’m sure of. Everyone has their “thing”. Or multiple things. Those things that make their life hard. Everyone’s life is hard. Life itself is hard.

And one person’s “thing” isn’t any more significant than another person’s thing (or things). We all suffer. We all grieve. We all hurt. We all struggle.

We all long for connection and love and acceptance.

In a discussion about suffering with my friend, Natalie, she said:

“God doesn’t ask us all to walk the same paths or suffer in the same ways. He only asks that we walk in unison, together, bearing another’s burdens that they may be light.”

In one of my favorite hymns we sing at my church it says:

“Who am I to judge another
When I walk imperfectly?
In the quiet heart is hidden
Sorrow that the eye can’t see”

We all suffer. We all grieve. We all hurt. And more often than not, we can’t always see that suffering in others. But it’s there. I promise you that. Sometime’s we think someone has it all together, or their life is easier than ours. Or we don’t understand why people act the way they do, or say the things they say. But I’m sure they have their “things”. And they don’t have it all together. And they don’t have an easy life. We all have sorrow that no one sees.

So we walk together. And lift each other up. And bear each other’s burdens and lighten the load. Because whether we see it or not, it’s there. Sorrow, that the eye can’t see.

It never gets old.

Sometimes if we’re having a particularly grumpy day, we have the Monday blues, or we just need a good laugh, we play around on the Photo Booth on my computer.

I die laughing every time.
It never gets old.

Best advice I’ve ever heard about parenting

Today was one of those mom days. I was tired. And frustrated. And discouraged. And even the sound of a kid talking to me made my ears want to explode. Yes, I typed that out loud.

I just wasn’t up for the whole mom gig today.

Then while sitting in the splash zone of my 2 year olds bath, I found myself reading one of two blogs I follow and I was irritated (which has never happened before with that blog) and even more discouraged. Because she had the perfect pictures and the perfect experiences and the perfect words to describe her life.

And it made me think of how hyper-aware we are, with this Internet/technology connected world, of what all the other parents are doing. And the adventures they take. And the perfect days they have. And the messes they let their kids make. And the cruises they go on. And the games they all play together. And the huge trophy their ridiculously talented child just won. And the schedule they keep. And the meals they prepare. And the dream jobs they have.

But after I tucked my kids into bed, rocked my baby to sleep (and hid in his room for a few minutes), assured my 9 year old her pinkie would indeed not fall off in the night from severe pain, and my 7 year old would not starve before breakfast, I sat for a second and thought how lucky my kids are. And how lucky I am to be their mom.

They are loved. They are told they are loved. They are shown they are loved.

They are fed. They are adored. They have a warm place to sleep, clothes to wear, food to eat. Parents that think about their needs and futures all day long. Extended family that loves them. Books to read. Schools to go to. Great teachers and leaders who love them. Tons and tons of friends. And on and on and on.

And then I thought about the best thing I’ve ever heard (in multiple places) about being a parent. And something I think about nearly every single day. Multiple times.

God was intentional about where he placed his children and who their parents would be. And He gave me MY kids. For. A. Reason.

So when a neighbor, relative, friend, teacher, parent, stranger tells me my 3 year old shouldn’t have a binkie, I should let my kids “cry it out” to teach themselves to sleep, my kids have anxiety because I don’t leave them enough, I spend too much time exercising, I shouldn’t let her eat ice cream, I’m too patient, I should never let a child sleep in my bed, I can’t believe you let them…., you should be engaged with your child every.single.minute, you shouldn’t feed them that kind of food, you hold your babies too much, I think to myself:

“That’s why they’re mine and not yours.”

And occasionally I actually say it out loud to people who think they need to correct my parenting.

Because it’s true.

My kids are mine. And they need what I have to give. The real me. Not the imitation me. Not the me trying to be like other moms. But the me who can give them what I can give them. And do what I can do. And love them the way no other mom can. Because I am their mom.

So momma’s everywhere. May we all try a little harder to encourage one another more instead of discourage. And build each other up instead of tear each other down. And recognize we can give our kids something no other mom can. And may we all try a little harder to step up and be the kind of mom WE want to be and know we can be. Not the kind of mom others tell us to be.

And may we always remember we all love our kids. And we’re all doing the best we can with what we have. And doing what we think is best for OUR children. And what I do may not work for you. And what you do may not work for me. And THAT’S OKAY!!!

Instead of comparing and despairing (I totally just made that up), let us celebrate each other’s success’s. And remember to celebrate our OWN.

You. You, momma, are doing a good job. (I’m shouting that at you) Just keep showing up. Your kids are yours for a reason. Please don’t ever, ever forget that.

And as my friend, Glennon, would say “Carry on, warrior” momma’s, carry on.

Enthusiastic about Life

A man I had just met for the first time told me I was “enthusiastic about life”.

He was right. I am, most of the time.

And thankfully, Mya seems to have inherited my enthusiasm for life and put it on steroids. This girl LOVES life. She smiles as though her face may burst. She takes her sweet time in everything she does (which can sometimes be maddening, but usually reminds me to slow the heck down).

She does her own thing and doesn’t need other people to validate her. She takes things as they come. Care-free. Kind. Full of laughter.

She tells stories better than anyone I know.

And she makes the best faces.

Man, I love her. My “enthusiastic about life” buddy!

My dad! A hero for many.

Today is my dad’s BIRTHDAY. And in honor of this day, his day, here are some of the things I love when I think about my dad.

1. Never pass up an opportunity to serve someone else. My dad has given his LIFE to helping other people. And I have never, EVER seen him act like it’s an inconvenience. Because of his profession as a doctor, people ask him to do things all.the.time. For free. And he always does it with a willing heart.

2. Don’t act like you’re better than anyone else. My dad can put people at ease no matter the situation. Because he treats them like an equal. He also gets asked allll sorts of questions, and I have never seen him try to make someone feel stupid or talk to them in a condescending tone.

3. No trace camping. Whenever we went camping, my dad always made sure the spot we stayed at was better than the way we found it. Our goal was to leave the campground with NO trace we had ever been there. Same goes for church. Pick up the trash. Leave no trace behind.

4. Never ride in a car without a seatbelt. Growing up, my dad had a picture of a woman with half her face ripped off attached to the visor in the car. The woman was in a car accident and had no seat belt on. If anyone ever gave him grief about wearing a seatbelt, he wouldn’t say a word. He’d just pull down the visor and there was the torn apart woman. And the complainer would promptly put on their seatbelt.

5. If something is worth doing, it’s worth overdoing. My dad never half-asses anything. Ever. It’s one of my favorite qualities about him. He’s thorough about the little things as much as he is about the big things. (This is unfortunately something I did not inherit from him–I’m workin’ on it).

6. Waste not, want not. Sometimes my dad overdoes this one and we have to sneak expired food into the garbage. He is the poster child for reduce, reuse, recycle. He uses empty nut jars from Costco for all his nails and screws. And cardboard milk boxes to store magazines. Never wastes.

7. Sloooooow down. The only time I’ve ever seen my dad “rushed” is when a neighbor has called him with a life-threatening emergency (which has happened numerous times during my life). Other than that, my dad takes his sweet time. He never seems rushed through life. He is present in the moment and happy to take life slowly.

8. Take 4 ibuprofen with food. We tease my dad all the time about this. For most complaints we had as kids (or even now as adults), his remedy always seems to be “Take 4 ibuprofen WITH FOOD”. Most the time I don’t even call him anymore. I just take the ibuprofen.

9. Never give up on your kids. My parents have had their fair share of tough kid challenges. But there’s one thing I know–my dad (and mom) would never give up on any of us. They love us. No matter what choices we make. They’ve been put to the test on this one so I can say this with certainty.

10. Teach by example. I don’t remember my dad “telling” me many things growing up. Most of his teaching was through action. He sent “messages” to his kids by DOING things instead of SAYING things. And it was pretty effective teaching.

One of the most quality human beings you’ll ever meet.

And for everyone’s viewing pleasure: (My kids watch this over and over and over)

Happy Birthday dad!! I love you.