Having a heart as soft as a “Jesus cookie” or as hard as an ice-covered sidewalk

Posted on February 15, 2017 by sandra

Valentine’s Day has come and gone. The day we celebrate love and candy and flowers and candy and romantic dinners and candy and cards and chocolate. Has the day left you feeling glad or sad?

Like relationships, Valentine’s Day sometimes has its melancholy moments or full-on frustrations. Maybe like Charlie Brown, no one remembered you on Valentine’s Day. Or you accidentally gave a card that was too mushy to somebody with a bad case of cooties. Or your dog ate the beautifully frosted sugar cookie hearts you made for your special Valentine. Or you broke your shoulder delivering Valentine’s Day brownies to the boy you wanted to be your Valentine, only to find out he didn’t really like brownies.

A couple of those stories represent the ghost of Valentine’s Day present and Valentine’s Day past around the Engelland house.

Anna came home from college on Saturday to make some cookies for her beau. She found a delicious recipe for gluten-free “Jesus cookies.” My daughters call those really puffy, soft sugar cookies with lots of icing and sprinkles you find in the grocery store “Jesus cookies” because they seemed to get them during Sunday School A LOT. I’ve always been a chocolate girl, so I never bought those “Lofthouse” cookies until after my daughters developed a taste for them at church, hence the name. I hope Jesus doesn’t mind having cookies named for him. Anna absolutely adores them and was excited to try a GF version, since she can’t have gluten. Here’s the recipe she used.

Anna’s “Jesus cookies” were yummy gluten-free versions of the Lofthouse cookies that tempt you at the grocery store.

They turned out melt-in-your-mouth fluffy. Anna frosted them with canned buttercream she dyed pink and dusted them with red sprinkles. Her first batch she put in a container, but she left four large hearts and four small ones frosted and sitting on parchment paper on the kitchen table while we went to dinner. Bad idea.

When we returned, the little ones were there because they had been closer to the middle of the table. The big ones were gone. The only evidence of their existence was a few smears of pink frosting on the welcome mat by the back door. We have a cookie monster at our house named Elektra. But our pound puppy doesn’t limit her thieving to cookies. Ask me about the Thanksgiving pumpkin pie I left on the dining room table. The crust was there, but the inside had been licked clean.

Here’s our unrepentant cookie thief. I hosed down the mat in the driveway and scrubbed away the evidence while she watched.

Fortunately, Anna had some set aside for her boyfriend. Her friends, however, were out of luck.

I was reminded of a Valentine’s Day when I was in college at the University of Kansas. I made brownies in the basement kitchen of my scholarship hall during a winter storm. They were a special treat for a boy I wanted to impress (my now-husband Shawn) who lived in the hall across the street. I went out that night to deliver them and slipped on an icy sidewalk. I managed to keep the batch of brownies safe while I caught myself with one hand, but I chipped a bone in my shoulder and had my arm in a sling for a month. Adding insult to injury, Shawn gave a lukewarm reception to the brownies. After some prodding, I found out he’d rather have oatmeal or chocolate chip cookies.

All that is to say that the road to love is not paved with flowers and candy. Sometimes it’s hard, but we can’t let our hearts get hard. And we can’t let them go off in the wrong direction, like thinking a diamond bauble or a vacation home is better than perseverance and integrity.

The Bible has a lot to say about our hearts. For Northwood’s Ladies’ Bible Study, we’re using a book by Kelly Minter on Nehemiah. The subtitle of the lesson is “A heart that can break.”

Nehemiah’s heart was breaking for the destruction of Jerusalem, the holy city for the Jewish people. He left comfort in the Persian king’s court to lead the rebuilding of the city’s walls, despite ongoing opposition.

I was reminded of a passage in Ezekiel:

“I will give them an undivided heart and put a new spirit in them; I will remove from them their heart of stone and give them a heart of flesh.” – Ezekiel 11:19

God wants us to care deeply about the struggles of others. He wants us to reach out to widows and orphans, to prisoners and the poor, to the sick and the outcast. After tending to immediate needs, we can share the hope we have because of Jesus, the greatest gift of all.

We also studied a passage in Proverbs about guarding your heart because it determines the course of your life.

“Guard your heart above all else, for it determines the course of your life.” – Proverbs 4:23

That reminded me of another verse, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” – Matt. 6:21

For me, I need to avoid the traps of materialistic thinking. Stuff is so much less important than people. I need to value my relationships with God, my family, my friends and anyone I encounter.

Nehemiah said in Chapter 2, verse 12: “I did not tell anyone what God had put in my heart to do.” For a while, he prayed. Then he prayed some more and fasted. He talked the King and prayed again. He surveyed the walls and prayed before telling others in Jerusalem of his plans. Then they got busy building and the praying continued. Opposition came and so did more praying.

Get the picture? What has God put in your heart? Pray. Do some planning. Pray some more. Take steps forward, and don’t forget to pray. Expect the journey to be challenging. We can’t do God’s work without God’s help.

Left to my own devices, I sometimes get it backwards. I guard my heart against the pain around me and soften it to unhealthy junk or pursuits that have no impact on eternity. I’m asking the Lord to help me press in close to those in need and keep materialism and entertainment from becoming too important.

So that’s what I pray for you as we look back on Valentine’s Day: a heart that is soft to the leading of God and guarded to the influence of the world.

Learning to let go

Posted on October 23, 2016 by sandra

Lovely light just before sunset at our catfish pond in Kansas. Sigh… It’s my happy place (one of them, anyway).

God knows I am pretty dense sometimes, so He helps me out by hitting me up side the head with stuff.

Three times in three days from three different sources, I heard the same message: surrender.

In a couples’ Bible study, we are reading Chuck Swindoll’s book, “So You Want to be Like Christ.” The chapter we studied was about surrendering, releasing our grip. He mentioned surrendering our possessions, our position, our plans and our people (specifically mentioning children).

“Once you make the choice, the hardest days are the earliest. You have become so accustomed to carrying a great weight that releasing it will naturally upset your balance. Learning to walk without it will feel awkward at first. Keep your eyes fixed on Christ and walk slowly. As you regain your balance over time, you’ll be amazed by the growing intimacy you share with Him…”

The next day, I read Priscilla Shirer’s study of Jonah where she talks about letting go and mentioned Chuck Swindoll teaching on loosening your grip (and his example was children).

The following morning, I opened up a devotional by Lysa Terkeurst on biblegateway.com. She wrote, “Sometimes I struggle trusting God with my kids.”

This season of life has me learning to loosen my grip on my children. They are 18, 21 and 24.

What I’m realizing is how little control I have over their choices.

If you look at the whole cycle of parenting, there are lots of little moments (and not so little moments) of learning to let go. You’re glad to see your baby take his first wobbly steps but sad when he doesn’t want to cuddle in your arms. You cry a bit when your daughter heads off to kindergarten while cheering her mastery of new bits of knowledge. You swallow the lump in your throat when your teen heads out the door, keys in hand, for his first solo drive. And most definitely when you leave that baby in her dorm room and head back home, you know things will never be quite the same.

How do you let go?

The answer came to me a few days ago.

“Be still and know that I am God.” – Psalm 46:10a

First that verse showed up in the book I was reading, “Switch On Your Brain” by Dr. Caroline Leaf. She talked about the importance of taking time for introspection, self-reflection and prayer. We do NOT have control over everything that happens in our lives, but we can control our responses. The more we strengthen our minds, the more we’re equipped to give responses that bless rather than harm. We choose thoughts that help our health and encourage others, not those that feed bitterness and strife.

That SAME morning, I read the daily Biblegateway.com devotional from Proverbs 31 Ministries. It was written by Liz Curtis Higgs. Her key verse?

“Be still and know that I am God.”

Again, I’m back to where I started. God WILL hit me with the same verse and same message from multiple sources, sometimes within the same hour. It’s a fun game we play together (here’s another post along those lines, “How to know when you have confirmation”).

The message was clear. Focus on knowing and trusting God, not agonizing over problems (real and imagined).

When it comes to your kids (or anyone else, for that matter), do what you can to build them up, pray, give thanks that God is in control and choose to stop your struggles and trust Him.

What keeps you up at night? How much control do you have over that? Take positive steps where you do have control and let go of the rest. Hand it over to the one who can handle it or help you cope.

“Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?” – Matthew 6:27

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests go God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” – Philippians 4:6-7

Eight tips to be a better parent to your college kid

Posted on October 9, 2016 by sandra

Just a little more than a month ago, we packed up kid No. 3 to go to college. For the most part, she’s been loving the new challenges, activities and adventures. But there have been moments when she’s called, her words heavy with frustration or panic. I’m not gonna lie, there have been moments when my responses have been heavy with frustration or panic.

Let’s get real. Freshman year of college is HARD. It’s hard for the student, and it’s hard for the parents. I’m not perfect, y’all. I write this to remind myself, as much as to inform you.

Here are some tips to help your child (and you) get through this year and beyond.

1. Keep the lines of communication open.

yes, I sometimes use text speak. I’m not too proud to stoop to teen communication modes.

If I want to get a positive response out of my kid, I use click bait. This girl loves our hyper German shepherd-border collie and asked me to send her photos. Those always get a response, but don’t expect daily communication. Go ahead and send an encouraging text, but don’t worry if you get no response. Let your child know how often you expect a phone call or Facetime where you can hear the sarcasm in their voice instead of trying to detect it in their texts.
2. Visit campus and make it an event.
Last weekend was “Family Weekend” at Anna’s college. The day we moved her into her dorm, she talked about Family Weekend and how she wanted us to see her university and go to the game. Fast forward to the day it began, and our college girl had plans with friends during the first event (a barbecue dinner and pep rally). Imagine that, she’d rather go out with her new friends instead of spend time with her parents. We insisted that she meet us for the President’s Breakfast the next morning, and she did. We had a nice visit and then she took us on a personal tour of campus. In her defense, we’d seen her several times because she goes to school less than an hour from home. Shawn reminded me that these events are designed to make sure your kid is adjusting to college, and it was obvious she was adjusting.

Go Mean Green!

3. Send a care package.
Box up some of your kid’s favorite treats. If you’re motivated (or have all this new-found time to ponder their absence), get creative and look on Pinterest for ideas. If you don’t have a lot of time, many university groups advertise they will put together a care package and deliver it around special days like Halloween, Valentine’s Day and finals. Nothing says “I love you” like a package of gummy worms.
4. Don’t turn their room into your office, craft room or man cave right away.
You’ll freak them out, trust me. Your assimilation of their space should be gradual or delayed. Even with my Aggie grad, I keep a bed for her in what used to be her room when I turned it into my office. When she’s home, it’s her room. When she’s not, it’s my office.
5. Invest in yourself.
Because you will have more time, resist the urge to mope or fill up the empty spaces with Pinterest or binge watching “Downton Abbey.” Think moderation with social media and entertainment and capture some of those extra minutes to learn a new skill or rediscover an old hobby. Both of those endeavors will boost your mood more than mindless media. I recently taught myself to use a video-making app on my phone for work and made a fall wreath for the first time in over a decade.

Crafted with love, not perfection…

When I was trapped at home with three small children, I did a lot of crafting. Now I can flex those glue gun and paint brush muscles again. How does that help your child adjust to college? It’s kind of a stretch, but it shows kids that you’re never finished learning and growing. Just being happier with this season of life helps us grow into it. Which leads me to the next point…
6. Let go … but not all the way.
Realize your child will have lots of exciting and stressful events as they move towards independence. Don’t panic when they become anxious over a bad grade or want to change their major. Work on becoming more of a coach and less of a dictator. Your adult child will thank you.
On the balance side, I want to insert a warning to you moms and dads out there. MANY young adults struggle with depression, anxiety and other mental health challenges. According to the National Alliance on Mentall Illness (NAMI), 20 percent of teens will experience some kind of mental health condition; 75 percent of chronic mental illnesses show up by age 24. Suicide is the third leading cause of death for those age 10 to 24. I’m dwelling on this heartbreaking topic because we parents need to know that the potential is there, and we should seek professional help if we suspect our child is struggling with mental health.
7. Expect change and talk about expectations.
Your son or daughter will come home on breaks. You will be glad to see them come. When the break is over, you will be glad to see them go. They will try new fashions, new philosophies, new political points of view. Don’t let this rattle you. Keep calm and laugh on (in private, not in their faces). Most likely, they will push way past the old curfews. Let them know what you expect from them, even if it’s just a text at midnight saying they will be home later. They will forget about pitching in with chores and treat you like the hotel maid service. Ask them to do their fair share. Plan fun times for the family during breaks, but don’t over schedule because they love staying out late with friends and sleeping much of the day away. When they go back, plan fun times with whomever is left at home (or with other friends and family). Have a party without them. You have a life, too, and it’s good for them to know it!
8. Don’t tell your kid, “These are the best years of your life.”
Most of us who went to college have great memories of that time. But we don’t have to think too hard to remember the late night projects, the worries about grades and the anxiety over our future. College is fun and college is hard. Both concepts are true. In the same way, parenting is rewarding and parenting is the hardest job we’ll ever do. What do we do in this new frontier of parenting young adults? This mom prays a lot. I pray they will know God loves them, and they will want to follow Him and discover His amazing plan for their lives. I know God is watching out for them even when I can’t. As Christians, we believe the best is yet to come.

An end is also a beginning

Posted on September 5, 2016 by sandra

Two weeks ago today Shawn and I dropped the last kid off at college, and I’m still in shock.

Where did those 18 years go, or the nearly two and a half decades of having kids under foot? The days crawled but the years raced.

We followed Anna’s battered blue Dakota up Highway 377 to the University of North Texas and sat in a traffic jam in the middle of orange construction barrels on Eagle Drive while hundreds of other families waited their turn to pull into the dorm parking lot. We got off the main drag a few blocks early and found spaces in a parking lot just one street over from her hall. Shawn, Anna, big sister Rachel (there at her sister’s insistent request), and I grabbed boxes and headed to her dorm.

A bit unsure and nervous, Anna took charge anyway and went to check in and get her key while the rest of us waited by the boxes on the steps out front. She came back breathless and triumphant, lanyard looped around her neck. Her room was on the fifth floor (aren’t they always?). The line for the elevators went out the door and down the block, so she led the charge to the nearest narrow stairwell.

Up, up, up we went, squeezing against the hand rail and orienting the box just right every time we passed students and parents on their way down the five flights. After several trips and copious amounts of sweating, we had most of what she brought in her room. Then there was moving furniture and the awkward task of making a lofted bed in tight quarters: layering on mattress protector, memory foam, pad, fitted sheet, flat sheet and her Grand Bette-made UNT green quilt. Anna may or may not have bumped her head on the acoustic tile ceiling. Rachel may or may not have made a trip hefting a heavy box from the parking lot up to the fifth floor before realizing she was in the “B” wing and would have to go back down to the ground floor and across the courtyard to the “A” wing and up another five flights.

Shawn and I pose with Anna, our UNT girl. Her room is only half way set up, but she was ready for us to go.

We got a few of the boxes unpacked, then Anna declared lunch break. We went to one of her favorite restaurants, Chipotle, even though Kansas cattleman Shawn doesn’t like to go there because they get all their beef from Australia. On this momentous occasion, he went with zero complaints or snide comments.

Then we went across the street on a Target run for a power strip, fan, gluten-free snacks and other assorted items, angling our cart around the aisles crowded with back-to-school shoppers. Once we got back to her dorm room with a last load of supplies, Queen Anna said, “You can go now.” She wanted to finish setting up with her friend and roommate Ashley and without parental units and sister taking up valuable floor space.

And that was it. After so many years of dreading the moment, I felt numb. The 45-minute drive back to Keller was quiet but not somber. When we got home, we still had Rachel visiting for another ten days. Rebekah is dividing her time between taking a few classes at the University of Texas at Arlington and a part-time job at The Keller Pointe, so she is living at home. The empty nest is not empty yet. And that’s okay.

I teared up late that night when I looked out the front door for Anna’s pickup and remembered why I didn’t see it at the curb. But she’s been home twice in the last two weeks, and I saw her in Denton twice. It makes a difference having her so close. Taking Rachel to A&M and dropping Rebekah off at KU her freshman year were much harder.

Part of the reason I’ve not been more mopey is because two days after we dropped Anna off, my step dad (a UNT alumni and big fan of the Mean Green) lost his long battle with cancer. Known for his wry sense of humor, his affection for all things Denton, and his willingness to go out of his way to help someone in need, Bud will be missed by many friends and family members. His passing had me thinking of the bigger picture and spending more time with my mom.

Bud sitting behind the wheel of his beloved 1957 Chevy convertible.

Bud sitting behind the wheel of his beloved 1951 Chevy convertible.

The end of active-duty child-rearing can be the beginning of new adventures with a wider scope than just the folks under my roof. More time to explore near and far. More opportunities to grow in giving to others. More knowledge that each moment is precious. If you’re a mom or dad in this perilous place of transition, allow a little mourning for what is gone, then seek the “mores.”

Life is full of challenges and changes. Some we anticipate for years and others catch us by surprise as one season ends and a new one begins. But we can know this. God has everything under control and will use all of it for our good, if we’ll let Him.

“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” – Ephesians 2:10

If we’re still drawing breath, God’s got good things planned for us to do.

Playing possum or playing “with” possum

Posted on July 31, 2016 by sandra

So it’s been more than a month since I posted on the old blog. I apologize to my five loyal fans (you know who you are!) who have been upset by my lack of consistency. Sometimes we’re busy having special times with family, other times we’re mired in a swamp of problems and every once in a while we let ourselves believe lies that knock us off track. All of these have been part of my last month.

Yesterday at our house here in suburban DFW we had our own version of Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom. A half-grown possum decided he wanted to stroll around our backyard, wander in and out of the doghouse and check out my garden. The ever-energetic Elektra barked and jumped at the window and wanted to go out to defend her territory from the invader, but daughter Rebekah and I didn’t want the two critters to engage.

This is not our Junior Possum, just one that looks like him. I didn’t take any photos because sometimes you’ve just got to stay in the moment.

Elektra loves to chase squirrels but has caught nary a one. This young possum would be an easy catch. We were concerned about it spreading disease, but an even bigger reason: it was really cute with its cotton candy pink nose. We didn’t want to see that kind of Wild Kingdom unfold in our backyard.

We waited for several minutes that seemed even longer, what with the wild rumpus going on in my breakfast nook at the big window overlooking the yard. The little critter finally made his way toward the hole in the fence, and I went out to check the area before we allowed Elektra to go out and do her olfactory forensic investigation.

After I went back inside and the curious canine sniffed around a bit, she alerted on something under the rosebush right by the hole in the fence. Rebekah knew we were in trouble. Sure enough, the dog turned around with the prize possum loosely held in her jaws. When she catches something, her first goal is play not kill. We pulled open the door and gave a sharp yell, causing the dog to drop her friend.

Kudos to Elektra for coming back in the house when we called, and we didn’t have to wrestle it away from her. Rebekah and I went out to check on it. The possum laid on its side, little pink claws in the air, motionless. You know, playing possum. But there was no blood or teeth marks, the little chest was moving up and down, so we went back inside to watch.

After a minute or two it began to move, getting back on its feet and walking back into the garden. Then it just stopped and looked around.

Meanwhile, the dog is once again going bonkers. Since the possum was in no hurry to go anywhere, Rebekah and I decided to encourage it to leave. I put Elektra on a leash and the three of us went out to let it know it wasn’t welcome. I kept the dog out of range. She seemed to know that the leash meant she couldn’t go play with it.

The little possum just crouched next to my faded zinnias pretending we weren’t there. Rebekah went and got a stick to herd it towards the gap under the fence. When she gently tapped it, the creature did a slow-mo fall to its side, claws up. We were all on one side of it and freedom was on the other and Junior Possum’s response was to pretend rigor mortis had set in. You don’t want any of this folks, I’m long dead.

“Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom” was Must See TV for kids in the 1970s!

We decided to conduct our own wildlife relocation program. Rebekah got the shovel and I got the broom. While I held the dog away from the action and played “Marlin Perkins” giving out words of encouragement, Rebekah was the brave “Jim” gently sweeping the animal onto the shovel. She then walked outside of our fence to a cluster of mesquite trees next to the pond behind our house and carefully slid him into a shady spot in the grass. He never moved, except for the telltale rhythm of his tiny chest. Then we shut the gate, loosed the hound and let her gather more olfactory evidence.

I told Rebekah I thought “playing dead” had to be one of the lamest self-defense measures ever. Later I was reminded that sometimes we may pretend to be dead to bad habits or the hurtful words of others or our own negative self-talk, but we didn’t really remove ourselves from the situation. The dangerous destruction is right there, and our response is to pretend it can’t hurt us. A better defense mechanism is to get away and/or have a much stronger protector.

Sometimes God calls us to leave a dangerous habit or situation behind. Other times, he may want us to look to him for protection and help when we must stand our ground. In either case, we’re not alone.

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” – Isaiah 41:10

Elektra doesn’t want to play possum. She wants to play WITH possum. Behind her are the trees where we relocated her “friend.”

Goals, terry cloth robes and grace. Lots of grace.

Posted on June 26, 2016 by sandra

Here we are almost at the end of June. That means we are half way through 2016. Yes. Really. I know it takes us all a few months just getting used to writing 2016 before it sinks in. I decided it would be a good chance for me to review all those goals I set in early January.

It ends up that I’ve fallen short on many of them. No, my bedroom is not totally decluttered and remodeled. I haven’t memorized a bunch of Bible Verses. I didn’t blog weekly.

But you know what? That’s okay. When I take a step back and look around me, I see some progress. It may be a mole hill instead of mountain, but I’ve gained ground.

One goal we met was taking a family spring break tour of the Great Southwest. It was all truly great except for a few hours in western New Mexico on the way home when we almost strangled each other.

One goal we met was taking a family spring break tour of the Great Southwest. It was all truly great except for a few hours in a traffic jam on I-40 in New Mexico when we almost strangled each other.

Anyone who knows me well knows I struggle with outer organization. I’m one of those daydreaming creative folks who can ignore the basket of unsorted socks by my bed for weeks (or months) and forget where I put the notice to renew the registration for my daughter’s car until it’s way overdue, hypothetically speaking (not).

I may not have decluttered my whole bedroom, but I did go through almost all my clothing and get rid of what didn’t “spark joy.” One of the books I’ve read so far this year is “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up” by Marie Kondo. Actually, I listened to the audio book, which I found on YouTube, while I went through my closet and drawers.

Kondo, a professional organizer from Japan, has something of a cult following with her “Konmari method,” which is to get rid of anything that doesn’t spark joy. She has some useful tips, but she’s kind of weird. She likes to talk to her stuff. If she is getting rid of it, she holds it and thanks it for what it’s done for her.

I feel a little silly thanking my old cherry red terry cloth robe for it’s many years of faithful service, but I never looked at it the same after hearing Jim Gaffigan’s take on them.

I haven’t blogged every week. Sigh. I’m disappointed in my lack of resolve. But I haven’t completely given up. I count up my posts. This is No. 14 for 2016. For the entire year of 2015 I had 7. If I keep on this pace, I will quadruple my output from last year.

I need to get out of the old mentality of abandoning goals because I only hit a single instead of a home run. It’s about progress, not perfection.

Another goal I set was to memorize 24 Bible verses for the year. I’ve only done two, and that’s being generous because I’m still sneaking peaks at the 3×5 card taped to my bathroom mirror. But God is still speaking powerfully through His Word. Just this last week several verses hit me up side the head.

This one seems especially appropriate:

^“But thank God! He gives us victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ. So, my dear brothers and sisters, be strong and immovable. Always work enthusiastically for the Lord, for you know that nothing you do for the Lord is ever useless.”– 1 Cor. 15: 57-58

Let’s give some grace to ourselves and keep moving onward in faith.

The optimistic, inconsistent, oblivious gardener

Posted on June 14, 2016 by sandra

Every spring hope pokes up in the fertile loam of my optimistic (Shawn would substitute delusional) heart and I plant.

Even the back side of a sunflower is lovely. I didn’t even see the cobwebs in the view finder.

This year I bribed and badgered two of my daughters into joining me in my overgrown backyard bed. We cleared away the dead plants from last year and a bumper crop of weeds aided by ample rains. I promised that I would only make them work for an hour.

After maybe 17 minutes, one of them drifted off to play with the dog while the other kept at the task with only a little grumbling. She planted a half dozen zinnias and a few hot pink marguerite daisies with gentle care. Then she opened a packet of tiny seeds spilling them into a concentrated spot of earth instead of gently scattering them over several square feet of soil.

Meanwhile I dug hurried holes for tomatoes and poked bush green bean seeds into the Miracle Gro mixture I use to loosen the clay-laden ground. Then other duties and interests called and it was another two or ten days before I got back to my garden.

The dog delights in digging in the fluffy fertile loam from Lowe’s and had evicted one of my tomato plants. I found it in the back corner, wilted but still green. So I said a prayer and plunked it into its original spot.

An unrepentant digger

I pulled out tomato cages and placed them over each plant, wrestling the growing limbs with loving care into the wiry funnels. Then I arranged a doggie barricade around the raised bed.

Another week later, I cajoled all three girls into hoisting bags of mulch from the bed of the battered Dakota and carrying them into the yard. Then one of them helped me open bags and scatter ebony bits of bark over the ground. The other two played with the dog and giggled with each other.They are all over the age of 17.

Then I pretty much left the garden to its own devices. A few minutes of weeding here and there, ample showers and little else.

Way back around April Fool’s Day, we’d pulled many a weed with large heart-shaped leaves, but I knew what they were and I chose to leave six or ten in certain spots. Now these chosen weeds rise high above everything else in the bed. They sport bright blossoms that lift my chin.

God is in the details.

One or two of them, though, are crowding out the tomatoes, shading their fruit and hampering their growth. I’ll probably pull a few of the giants so the tomatoes will have the chance to thrive.

Sunflowers soar to the sky and encroach on the fragile tomatoes.

The truth is, I’m not a diligent gardener. I’m easily distracted. Shawn says I’m like the dog in “Up.” I’m in the middle of a task or a conversation and… “SQUIRREL!” I also tend to be like my girls in that I’m easily bored. The idea of gardening often sounds better than getting in the dirt with rampant evil trumpet vines and ghost-white grubs.

But you know what? I haven’t given up. I harvested a plastic colander full of green beans on the same morning I pulled a bin full of weeds. I took a picture of both of them because life is not Pinterest-worthy most of the time. It’s mix of delicious produce and invasive weeds.

Sometimes we have to say goodbye to some eye-catching blossoms to make room for the real food.

And even a well-meaning absent-minded gardener can enjoy the fruits of her labor – and hope for better yields next year.

“It’s not important who does the planting, or who does the watering. What’s important is that God makes the seed grow.” – 1 Corinthians 3:7

“When you put a seed into the ground, it doesn’t grow into a plant unless it dies first.” – 1 Corinthians 15:38

Turning in my “active duty mom card”

Posted on June 5, 2016 by sandra

Last weekend this mom survived two big milestones.

Anna, my youngest, graduated from high school on Saturday. Two days later, she turned 18.

In honor of her old favorite "Junie Bl Jones" books, Anna C. Engelland is a graduation girl!

In honor of her old favorite “Junie B. Jones” books, Anna C. Engelland is a graduation girl!

In just the space of 48 hours, I had no more K-12 kiddos and no more minor children. It’s enough to make a mama swoon.

I’d been simultaneously anticipating and dreading those moments for many months (years?). I wanted to celebrate my daughter, whose impish, strong-willed, fierce-loving start hinted at the creative, determined, fierce-loving young woman she would become.

But a part of me feels like I’m turning in my “active duty mom card” because technically, all three of my kids are adults. I’m mourning the passage of the era of raising kids. I’ve been at it for almost a quarter of a century, but sometimes it seems to have passed in a blur.

The first kid graduation I celebrated was my oldest daughter completing kindergarten. That was almost exactly 18 years ago because my youngest was born just a day and a half later. I tell a lot of people that I never drank coffee until the youngest arrived. I had a first grader, a preschooler and a colic-prone baby. That’s a certain recipe for sleep deprivation, making caffeine an essential part of my daily diet.

Rachel, 6, cuddling with her one day old baby sister.

Rebekah at 3 1/2 gets a kick out of holding her newborn sister for the first time. Anna, not so much.

Boarding the Trinity Railway Express to Dallas in 2001: Anna, 3, in her "lay-o" Veggie Tales dress lovingly made by GrandBette, Rachel, 9, carrying her own camera, and Rebekah, 6, sporting the Powerpuff Girls T.

Boarding the Trinity Railway Express to Dallas in 2001: Anna, 3, in her favorite outfit, a “lay-o” Veggie Tales dress lovingly made by GrandBette; Rachel, 9, carrying the family video camera while holding her sisters’ hands (typical oldest child stuff); and Rebekah, 6, sporting the Powerpuff Girls T.

Now the sleep deprivation comes from hot flashes or because I’m worrying about one or more of the young adult children. What you don’t realize as a young parent looking ahead is that your job isn’t really over when they turn 18 or graduate from high school.

As your kids grow up, you give them more and more responsibility. You coach and hope and pray that they have faith in God and in themselves.*

They make mistakes. A lot of them. You make mistakes. A lot of them. But the older they get, the more you realize that you as a parent have very little control. You transition from a very “hands on” role to more of an advisory capacity. You have been and always will be one of your child’s primary role models. They will do what you do or vow to be nothing like you.

I hate to break the news to all you young parents out there, but parenting older teens and young adults can be harrowing at best, heartbreaking at worst. Sometimes when you want to rush in and rescue, you stand back and wait. You keep your mouth shut when you long to give the 142nd lecture on a topic. You pray more for your kids than when they were little because the challenges are huge and the solutions are out of your hands.

But in all that, you get to see your child becoming. Their frontal lobes are not fully developed, so you can’t expect total “adulting” dominance, but you see glimpses of how the soft-hearted child becomes the compassionate young adult, or the obstinate, strong-willed kid becomes the determined, focused 18-year-old.

When they struggle, you seek God all the more and focus on the long haul. You look for glimmers of hope and choose to count blessings. And you choose to love.

*Jesus teaches in Matthew 22 that faith is powered by love:

³⁶“Teacher, which is the most important commandment in the law of Moses?”

³⁷Jesus replied, “‘You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind.’^[a] ³⁸This is the first and greatest commandment. ³⁹A second is equally important: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’^[b] ⁴⁰The entire law and all the demands of the prophets are based on these two commandments.”

Rachel’s graduation in 2010. Great smiles from all my girls.

Rebekah’s graduation in 2013. Two down, one to go!

A happy day celebrating our last Keller High School graduation.

Are you in my club?

Posted on May 22, 2016 by sandra

I belong to a huge club with many members, but every one of us would rather be someplace else. We didn’t choose this club. It chose us.

I come from a family deeply scarred by mental illness. My father fought bipolar disorder for decades. He battled what he thought was depression for much of my childhood until a manic break from reality (the first of many) while I was in college divulged the true nature of his disease. His father spent many years in mental hospitals.

Dad and me in our backyard in Wichita.

Dad and his dad, Floyd Leon Crider Jr. and Floyd Leon Crider Sr., on the dairy farm near Krum, Texas

I’m not excited about writing this post, but I know it needs to be done. Good bloggers connect with their tribe. They take what they’ve experienced and attempt to turn it into lessons to encourage others. The problem with mental illness is that there is still a lot of stigma and ignorance out there. And people don’t enjoy talking about it because it sucks. Anyone who knows me knows I don’t use foul language and “sucks” crosses a line for me (my apologies to my southern mama who raised me to despise cuss words). But there’s something deep within my gut that mourns the havoc mental illness created in my family.

Without thinking long or hard at all, I can recall loved ones with depression, anxiety, OCD, PTSD, personality disorder, bulimia, addictions… You get the idea. According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), one out of five Americans experience a mental illness. Of those ages 13 to 18, 20 percent have a mental health condition.

In our upper middle class suburb of 43,000 souls here in DFW, two teenagers have taken their own lives in the last month. Of those who die from suicide, 90 percent have an underlying mental illness. Suicide is the tenth leading cause of death in the United States.

People, we need to seek out the mentally ill among us and show them love. We need to support their families. When someone breaks an arm or is diagnosed with cancer, everyone rallies around them. We don’t understand diseases of the mind. They don’t make sense because they are by their essence irrational. We need to rally anyway. We can listen and hug.

Part of showing love is putting ourselves out there as members of this club, both those who have loved a mentally ill person and those who have suffered themselves.

May is mental health month, and I feel the need to make sure others know about my membership in this not-at-all exclusive club. The way to reduce the stigma and ignorance is to be open about our struggles and to encourage those who are open with us.

Want to know more?

Here are a few resources:

More information on NAMI and mental health issues: nami.org
TED Talks on mental health
Kay and Rick Warren, who lost their son to suicide, now champion mental health issues in the church: hope4mentalhealth.com

So who is with me? Are you in my club?

Lessons from the back of the pack

Posted on May 15, 2016 by sandra

Last weekend, my 21-year-old daughter Rebekah and I ran our first half marathon. We’d done races of 9 miles and 10 miles, but we’d never done 13.1 miles. We decided to use Shawn’s frequent flyer miles (Thanks, Honey!) and go to a run outside of Boston and do some sightseeing before and after the big run

The day before the race, we had a great time walking the Freedom Trail in Boston and carb loading at a cafe in Little Italy. Our waitress’s accent — she called me “doll”–added to the fun. After our run, we drove up to Maine and found a little town on the coast for chowder, lobster rolls and shopping. Rebekah said she preferred “Murder She Wrote” New England over “Cheers” Boston, but both venues were fun.

As for the run, it was HARD. The morning was cold and drizzly, fog shrouding the namesake pair of lighthouses on the course. There were more hills between Gloucester and Rockport than we find between Keller and North Richland Hills (despite the name).

Cold start in the upper 30s. Welcome to May in New England. Obviously, I am selfie challenged.

Did I mention that it was long? Map My Run, which lined up with all their mile markers, told me the race was actually 13.3 miles. When you’re ready to be done, two-tenths of a mile matters. We kept going and only walked a little bit and finished with a better time than we expected, although well back into the pack of runners, many of whom sported “Boston Athletic Association” Boston Marathon gear. For you non-runners, you only get to run the Boston Marathon by getting a very fast qualifying time IN ANOTHER MARATHON or by having run it more than 15 times.

Towards the end of the race when every muscle hurt

The point I want to make is that right now I’m having to run a spiritual endurance race in certain areas. I’ve prayed and sought God’s guidance, but the struggle remains. Unlike a real race, I’m not sure where to find the finish line. But I can trust God to give me the power to endure and keep going.

One of the best things about a road race is the camaraderie. Fellow runners encourage one another and people cheer for you along the course and at the water stations to boost your spirits. At the Mile 9 water station last weekend, a woman called Rebekah and me her “two favorite runners of the day.” It didn’t matter that we were near the back of the pack and she may have said it a couple dozen times, we felt better.

In the body of Christ, we can cheer for the well-known pastors and authors, the speakers who fill stadiums and lead hundreds to faith, but we should also encourage those who are struggling. Those who are dealing with marital strife, sick parents, colicky babies, bad grades, prodigal sons and daughters. We should look for ways to bless others with a cup of water and a few kind words in the middle of whatever marathon they are running.

Because everyone has challenges. Call it pruning, call it the results of bad choices (sometimes not even our own), call it living in a fallen world. That’s the bad news. But here’s the good news. In Christ, we have victory. We may not have it in our hands yet, but we can hold it in our hearts. We know that He gives us power, love and self-control when we seek Him, not fear and anxiety (2 Timothy 1:7).

So run your race, my friends, and don’t forget to encourage others, especially those at the back of the pack.

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.” – Hebrews 12:1

Not sure if I’ve ever been more glad to see the Finish Line.

Sandra Engelland

Cultivating peace

Category Archives: Family