Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

Cinderella Mom

If you think Jesus would have come into your home that day and not issued a strong rebuke to the head of household, you are mistaken. These words of condemnation have been haunting me for days now. They aren’t all that different than the soundtrack I play in my head on an almost-daily basis. It’s…

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This is 40

I am nesting. On Saturday I emptied the refrigerator. Last summer’s homemade pickles in their jars. The bread ends that seem to multiply on every shelf. The eggs. The milk. The fruit and veggies. All of it sat on the floor or the counter as I carefully removed the shelves and wiped them down with…

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Beauty on the Backroads {or Why I Changed the Name of my Blog}

I’ve heard that life is like a highway. And it definitely seems like that sometimes. The pace of life swirls around me at dizzying speeds. We’re all so busy. In such a hurry. Always somewhere to be, something else to do. I’m a get-to-the-point, get-there-quick kind of girl. I don’t like to waste time on…

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Moms who do it all shouldn’t have to

Day 14. One more week to go. Am I a wuss to be missing my husband and wanting this separation to end? I feel like I should buck up and relish the chance to do this parenting thing all by myself. After all, millions of parents lead their families by themselves year after year. Three weeks? No big deal, right?

Honestly, I don’t know how single parents do it day in, day out. Even though I have my parents and grandparents, and my in-laws, not to mention the kids’ aunts and uncles on occasion, to help, I still feel the burden of responsibility for my children — a burden I’m used to sharing.

I don’t know if the kids recognize a difference with my husband gone, but I know they are missing out on a whole different aspect of parenting. I’m not comfortable tossing my son in the air, but I don’t mind if my husband does. I’m not as good at wrestling with my daughter as he is, either. I usually jokingly say that he’s the fun one, I’m the serious one. I’m missing the fun side, and I’m a poor substitute.

With Mother’s Day tomorrow, we celebrate all that mothers do for their children, and that would be a much longer blog if I tried to list what I, or any other mom, do for their kids. And there’s a sense of pride in knowing we “do it all” for our families, but I wonder how often we ask for help.

I like the feeling of accomplishment I have when I’ve completed a challenging task, but I don’t want to be the kind of wife who doesn’t need my husband for anything. I don’t want to be Supermom or Mrs. Incredible. Too much pressure. I’m content to do what I can and let others step in when I’m in over my head.

I know that being a single parent isn’t always a choice a person gets to make. Sometimes it’s chosen for her, and I in no way judge or condemn the single parent. I admire her. She’s an amazing woman (and the majority of single parents are women, thus the gender choice), and getting just a taste of what her life must be like makes me want to do all I can to help her.

What do single moms need most? How can the church offer their hands and lives to those who are raising kids by themselves?

Happy Mother’s Day!

Conversing with God is not the same as talking to myself

Day 13. On my drive home from the Quad Cities tonight, I mistook the clouds for mountains. I must be missing my other home. I love the mountains of Pennsylvania, but I’ll never be able to say that the plains of Illinois are boring. I’ll always find something beautiful about acres and acres of farmland.

I had a great evening watching a theatrical Christian production of Snow White as a parable for Christ and the church. The drive there and back was a little lonely. I miss the small talk my husband and I share, although even if he were in the same state, he wouldn’t have gone tonight. Ladies only. But I miss being able to “download” about my day or discuss whatever happens to be on my mind. I try to store up all the thoughts I’m thinking that I want to share with him, but I know they won’t all make it into conversation with him.

So, I find myself conversing with God more. Telling him the things I normally tell my husband, and feeling a little weird about it because doesn’t He know all this stuff already?

Maybe that’s another perk of this separation, developing my conversation skills with God. Just as long as no one mistakes me for a crazy person talking to herself. Then again, maybe that’s not so bad after all. Christians are a little bit crazy.