"Just wait till you have kids" she would say...never irritated or sarcastic, but enough times that I remembered it 

An honest plea from the depth of her anytime we teased about her worrying heart, or their rules

Just wait

And in the middle of life my waiting happened

And I understand

I grasp what it feels like to have a piece of your heart living outside your body, outside your control, outside your will

Love is full of waiting

Waiting through the pain of their arrival 

And for curfews

Waiting for exhaustion to end while meeting their every need 

And for maturity

Waiting on them to see right, and grasp the love in obedience

And for manners

Waiting through silence, needing them to speak their heart

And for celebrations

Love is patient

And I'm so glad she taught me how to wait

Linking up with the
Five Minute Friday writers over at
katemotaung.com

Where You are Like Me

Why are we divided?  Why do we say "them" and "us" with exclusion?
Why do we see difference and let it divide?
Why do we draw lines between race, age, gender, socio-economics and cultures?

He played banged on the air drums while she rocked the air guitar sang back-up and I took lead vocals (at their request of course)
And these words blasted from our speakers
Oh, we all want the same thing.
Oh, we all run for something.
Run for God, for fate,
For love, for hate,
For gold, for rust,
For diamonds, for dust
 - One Republic, Love Runs Out

In the middle of air band, with my two rocking kids in our Subaru wagon
From a band that describes it's music style as "a sum of a bunch of parts"
It clicked for me
We see in color
Hear in harmony
And we're different
But
Different is not good nor is different bad
It's not meant to be criticized, categorized or compared
It just is
And in the middle of our difference is the truth that you are just like me
We all hurt, dream, love, and hope
We're all searching, trying, running, living, breathing
And as our lives are tested
Laid bare, broken and bleeding
We all bleed the same color

All of us
Red - Yellow - Black - White
Wealthy - Middle Class - Poor
Female - Male
Old - Young
You are like Me
Not only in our hurts, our dreams our running our breathing
But in the way we are made

Made in the image of God
Designed to be like Him
And He is too complex, too beautiful, too full and too great to be understood in one race, once age, one gender, one socio-economic status
We see in color
Hear in harmony
Dream - Pray - Run - Hurt - Seek - Breath - Bleed
Because there is a God who is our color, speaks in harmony, knows our hearts, feels our pain, heals our brokenness, fulfills our need, shows us love, and gives us breath

When we get stuck in comparison we miss the beauty
When we draw lines and use our diversity as a means of division
We tear down the value of a soul
We discount the greatness and diversity of a God who is beyond our full comprehension
And we break the world into pieces

I know a God who is creative and diverse
I know a God who came to earth
I know a God who wants His people to live as one
I know a God who bled
And when we bleed...
We all bleed the same color

I may be a small-town white girl, but in my design I'm just like you
And in your design you are just like me
Because we all reflect the image of God

I wonder what the world would look like we we started to see the way were all the same instead of the way we're different?

Happily linking up with

Meredith Bernard #woman2woman

And Holley Gerth @Coffee for your Heart

Dear Son, [3 Qualities of REAL Men]

You sit as a silent observer,
And when I look at you listening, patient, processing
The coffee flecks inside your chestnut eyes reflect back to me the darkness of the words you hear
Words like "sexually assaulted" "molested" "raped"
And my heart whispers silent prayers that the shadows of this bleeding broken world would never darken your soul but instead make you a champion of right and of good
A warrior for the weak, the needy, the lovely and the loveless
A real a man

Men, my quiet-soulful son, real men
Don't take, they cherish
They don't take the souls of girls wrapped in skin and use them for their own pleasure
Real men see the soul, the weakness, and the loveliness that lies inside the skin and they choose to cherish - honor the beauty, the need, and the uniqueness.  Real men do dishes and laundry and work hard to provide for their families not because women are incapable but because they are givers who cherish.

Real Men
Don't break, they protect
They don't break bones, bruise hearts, fracture dreams or tear skin in selfishness or anger.
Real men sacrifice to safeguard their sisters, and when you're a real man, you see the women of the world as your sisters.  Real men risk themselves to save hearts, bodies, dreams, and the souls of those they get to love.  Sisters, Mothers, Daughters, Wives.  Love is a great responsibility, and you my son have been gifted with souls to protect.
Real men tell her she's "beautiful" when she needs to hear it most (in sweat pants and stains and when it's least expected), Real men forgive and admit when they're wrong. Real men are selfless when it's easier to be selfish.

Real Men,
Don't use, they encourage
They don't carelessly waste those around them for personal gain, popularity, acceptance, or power.  Real men build walls of hope and encouragement around women with words that are true, honoring and intentional.  Real men see through the temporary and focus that which lasts - righteousness, contentment, hope, love, joy, honesty, truth.  Real mean stand for truth, they don't twist it to suit.
Real men listen, cry, and care when it's easier to be apathetic. 

I know what it's like to align your soul with a boy,
Boys take, and use and break
Boys squander the beauty inside, they steal hope, and trap you inside lies of self-doubt and fear
But I didn't stay there
It was the encompassing arms of a man, his disappointment, heart break and his forgiveness that brought me back to life
I have always been surrounded by good men
Real men
And if you ever wonder what one looks like...
Look to your Papa, your Daddy, your Uncles, your Great Grandpa
Ask them what it means
Ask them what they did right, and what they wish they wish they could change
They'll tell you
And I'll be here