Hello Friends new and old.  I’m so glad you have found yourself here at the very beginning of Summer of Saying Yes- Take 2!  This has been my most read post so far and I believe that speaks to a deep longing for simpler days and the slow joys of Summer, both for our kids and us!   Please read, be encouraged, join our little revolution, and subscribe to receive “30 Ways To Say Yes This Summer.”  Let’s be friends and honor our kid’s childhoods together!

It’s kind of a joke with my friends that I start every sentence with, “I’m reading this great book…”  I read.  I read a lot of books about a lot of things.  I buy a book a day.  It’s a problem.  But, let me tell you about this GREAT book I am reading right now none the less.  It’s called “Last Child in the Woods” by Richard Louv.  “Saving Our Children from Nature-Deficit Disorder,” it says on the cover.  If you are a parent or an educator of any kind, please get on Amazon right this second (I mean right after you read this post) and buy this gem.  It’s like this man reached into my head and heart and scientifically validated all the things I have thought about our culture and hoped for my own 4 children.  With every chapter I want to stand up on a chair and cheer!! I love this book so much I want to marry it! I could never summarize it all for you because it is filled with so much wisdom and goodness and genius, but let me try:

His basic stance, and one that many studies he researches and quotes is that “direct exposure to nature is essential for a child’s healthy physical and emotional development.”  In the book Louv sites that our country has turned from a primarily agricultural society to a primarily urban society in a very short amount of time.  As recently as the 1950’s most families still had some kind of agricultural connection.  In this society children would have been “directing their energy and physicality in constructive ways; doing farm chores, baling hay, splashing in the swimming hole, climbing trees, racing to the sandlot for a game of baseball.  Their unregimented play would have been steeped in nature.”   For thousands of years the human brain and body have been trained for an agrarian, nature-oriented existence and neurologically we haven’t caught up with today’s over-stimulating, technological driven environment. We live in homes with small, fenced-in yards rather than open landscapes that invite free exploration.  We design safe playgrounds and gate them in rather than let our kids climb (unsafe) trees.  We buy playhouse “kits” and build it for them, rather than a bunch of 4 x 4’s and encourage them to figure it out. We get them a bike, but tell them they can only ride around the cul-de-sac.  We put them in a thousand organized activities and give them no time to dig holes, find bugs, or lay in the grass and look at the clouds.  We give them hours of homework and take away recess and P.E.  We lift high learning through information (that is accessible with the click of a mouse) and discount the learning that comes from doing, from using their hands, from using their senses.  We have “de-natured” childhood as we have over-regulated it.   The results have been astounding.  Obesity, a rise in ADHD, less care for and connection to the environment around them, a complete lack of knowledge of where their food comes from, a disconnect to their history and the history of creativity and the inventiveness of this country that is undeniably linked to nature, and so on and so on.  YES!!!! All the things, YES!!!

When my first son was born a mere 13 months after my daughter, I had a hard time finding my bearings.  The weight of these two babies, so far away from home, without real community left me lost, exhausted, and grasping.  It was like I could see the mom I wanted to be; intentional, strong, creative, organized, (clean, dressed) but she was across a chasm I could not breach.  So, all I knew to do was to pray in those sacred, scarce moments.  “Tell me something, Lord.  Give me ONE THING in this mommy gig I can focus my blurry eyes on.”  Here is what I know He spoke to my heart a decade and 2 kids ago; “Honor Their Childhood.”  How grateful I was for this simple mandate.  It has become the filter that I attempt to view these fleeting years through.    Honestly, it was the pulse behind the sacrifices we made to raise them on the Ranchito.  I could have a newer home. I could have a fancier home with prettier floors. I could have less to keep up with.  We could have more money in the bank and less in a mortgage.  But here they have space to run, and to grow things, and to nurture animals, and be kids the way I want them to be kids.  It’s not a right or wrong…. It’s just what the Lord had for us and a space in which I feel like we can honor their childhoods (and hopefully honor the childhoods of their friends).  It was also the reason we chose to “do school” the way we do it; where they go 2 days a week and we home school 2 days a week.  I like quizzing for history tests out on the rockers or doing math facts on the trampoline.  I like Mondays in PJ’s.  I like longer Summer and Christmas breaks.  I’ll sacrifice for it.  I’ll sacrifice some “me time” to honor their childhood.  Again, no right or wrong here, just the way that filter has shaped our lives in this season.  When the Lord gave me, “honor their childhood,” He did not give me specifics.  There was no checklist, no definitions, no handbooks of what that exactly meant.  I think He likes it that way because it means that with each of my children, in each new stage they reach I have to lean on him for clarity.  I have to ask Him to give me wisdom in applying that filter in decisions and opportunities.  But it was a clear word and you can borrow it!

As I press in to the (sometimes exhausting) intentionality of honoring the childhoods of these 4 kiddos we are stewarding, I have realized it has meant a lot of “no’s” along the way.  As in, “No, you can’t have an iPhone in the 1st grade,” “No, you are not going to dress like a hooker even though that outfit is indeed your size (Y’all!!!),” “No,  we are not going to have a gaming system in our home,” “No, you cannot watch that show/movie,” “No, you cannot sell your little brother.”  What was a “no” a few year ago may be a “fine” now.  What is a “no” for one kid may be a “yes, but don’t tell your sister,” today.   As school rolled to a close last summer I was talking to a few tribe members about the long days of summer that lay ahead.  I shared that with this filter of “honoring my kid’s childhood” and with the inevitable “no’s” that come with that and just parenting in general, I really try to say “yes” as much as possible.  As in, “yes, you can wear your princess dress to the store,” “yes, you can help me make dinner,” “yes, we can tie-dye shirts,” “yes, we can have a picnic lunch,” “yes, we can invite 50 kids over for a swim party (once a week)””yes, you can invade the linen closet and set up a fort,” “yes, we can get a kitten (just don’t tell Dad.)”

No’s are inevitable.  No’s are wise.  No’s are important and safe and loving much of the time.  But no’s can also be lazy.  No’s can be habit.  No’s can be self-serving to us as parents and the very vice that is dishonoring our kid’s childhood.  We have to evaluate the no’s.  It’s hard, right?  It’s easier to just dish them out and not think about what if it were a yes.  Much of the time the “yes'” takes a lot more effort on our part.  We all know that a “yes” in the kitchen means more mess, more time, less efficiency.  We all know a “yes” to a sleep over with friends means less sleep.  My kids LOVE to sleep on the trampoline.  I mean they may as well be camping in the Grand Canyon.  They get snacks and sleeping bags, lanterns and pillows, and climb up there to bounce around all night.

It sounds awful to me but I am 39, not 7.  Now please don’t have a romanticized ideal of what this looks like.  They will come inside approximately 25 times in the night.  They will threaten to bail on each other if someone touches them.  They will spill a water bottle and have to change PJ’s.  Someone will get scared.  Someone will get cold.  They sprinklers will come on for a fun little surprise.  But, they LOVE it.  That’s an easy “yes” for us.  It costs nothing.  Sometimes yes’s are a little more costly.  Yes to an overnight camp.  Yes to a pet.  Yes to the purchase of a camper.  Yes to a change in lifestyle that will honor their childhood.

So, last year, after this very real conversations about lazy “no’s,” my friend coined the phrase “Summer of Saying Yes.”  YES!  Let me tell you what this does not mean on the Ranchito…. I am not my kid’s cruise director all summer.  You know, I am not coming up with a thousand cute activities and keeping them entertained every moment from May to August.  This is not Disney World.   I’m just looking for the yes.  We have time and space for more yes’s.  I have a rule that I will buy all the books and art supplies they want.  They have to buy the crap toys with their allowance.  So, on the first day of our summer break, we cleaned out the “school room” together, made a list of what we needed to turn it into the “art room” for the summer, and headed to Hobby Lobby.  That was not a cheap trip for me but that was a yes that honored their childhood creativity.  So, the next day it was yes to painting outside!  All of my kids have fall and winter birthdays so I always get them a “Happy Summer” gift after school gets out because who wants pool toys for Christmas?  This year the girls got mermaid tails they could swim in and the boys got water guns and scuba gear.  That’s a yes!  That’s a “go outside and play and be kids, and be mermaids as long as possible” yes!

We can’t just say no’s without a few yes’s.  No to screens this summer may mean yes to a new bike.  No to over-scheduled days may mean yes to a family read aloud on the front porch every night. (We are 7 chapters in to Priscilla Shirer’s Prince Warriors and they LOVE IT! You know, I’m reading this great book….)  No to gaming all night on the iPad may mean yes to snow-cones and trampoline campouts. No to phones at the table may mean yes to creative conversations. We like to play Bible trivia, “would you rather,” or “high and low of the day.”  A yes to a little intentionality.

Summer also gives us the time and space to “train up a child in the ways they should go” (Proverbs 22:6).  Obviously this is a “yes” in regards to discipleship in the faith but I think this is also a yes in very practical areas.  Train them up!  For us that will mean training in important tasks that will make them capable adults one day and contributing family members right now.  There will be training in how to make a bed (well, correctly), how to dust blinds and clean baseboards, how to set the table, how to pull the weeds in the garden, how to blow the leaves off the porches, how to clean the chicken coop, how to clean the pool…. It’s training time y’all!  My oldest knows how and when to pick the okra from the garden, how to cut it, coat it and fry it up.  Talk about some productive training!!!

Could I do all of these things faster, more effectively, with less mess?  Of course, but in this summer space I want to say yes to some training.  One day it will pay off!

We love the idea of throwing the kids outside and locking the door…don’t we?  A little throw back to 1983?   A little, “back when I was a kid…”  Listen, I am the anti-helicopter mom.  What is that called?  A “free-range” mom!  Yes!  Chickens and kids free-ranging around here.  But with the “No’s” we have to provide some “yes’s.”  Remember my guy Richard Louv and “Last Child in the Woods?”  It’s not 1983 and our culture has criminalized free play in nature.  Our kids may literally not know how to do it.  As we lock the door and tell them to play outside, make sure you have provided some yes’s.  It may be as simple as sidewalk chalk and feeding the ducks at the pond, if your kids are little.  If they are older, it may be a little more involved like a roadtrip or a telescope or camera.  We can all plant a tomato plant in a pot and watch the wonder of it grow.  We can all take a walk and turn off the TV.  My kids love the butterfly kit where you can watch the whole life-cycle of a caterpillar (and by kids I mean ME)!  It never gets old.  I think we are getting bees this summer to help pollinate the garden. Our favorite form of entertainment right now is watching the mocking birds dive-bomb the dogs when they walk beneath their nests.  Seriously, nothing on Netflix can beat it!  Everyone can look at the stars at night.  You just have to have eyes to see.  Everyone can go to a nursery and plant some flowers and smell the roses.  Let’s not let “nature-deficit disorder” happen on our watch Moms.  It may take some stretching.  It may take some thought.  It may take a few yes’s but it will be worth it.  Our kids are worth it.

So, will you join our little revolution of #summerofsayingyes?  Can we shift gears this summer and begin to honestly evaluate our “n0’s?”  Can a yes introduce your kids to creativity, beauty, ingenuity, and fresh air?  Can we simply turn off the pull of the virtual and put a stake in the wonder of real?  Can we de-criminalize nature and be a vessel of God’s creation to this generation?   Can we train up some sous-chefs, some gardeners, some laundry sorters, some helpers in the space and time summer affords us?   Please don’t go all “cruise-director” on me here… Just look for the yes.  Look for it outside.  Lay down the lazy “no’s” and pick up the mantra of “honoring their childhood.”  If you’re in, let me know!  Post some pictures of your yes’s and use #summerofsayingyes.  I’m for you!  I’m for your kids!  I’m for their childhoods!  I’m for your summer!  I’m for the yes!  I bet you are too… Let’s do it!

 

 

 

My Hubby is out of town where he has no access to the internet, so let’s dish.  Do you know what a “Gear Head” is?  I certainly didn’t until I was married to this man, but it is a very real thing. (Evidently so is an “Animal Hoarder” as referred to in “Fishbowl Lies.”  Thanks for helping me properly diagnose my disease, Sweet Readers). Anyway, this is about him, not me.  Gear Head.  For example, when he asks if the kids have a “jacket” he is not, as his Floridian wife has mistakenly assumed too many times, asking if they simply have something that covers their arms and goes over their clothes.  Nope.  “Jacket” could refer to a “windbreaker,” “fleece,” “coat,” “rain coat,” or “snow jacket.”  Evidently, none of these are interchangeable or serve the same purpose.  There are levels of “jacket” and they directly correspond to temperature, humidity, and wind speed.

Y’all.

When we first got married, probably the most common thing heard in our apartment was, “Babe, where are your shoes?”  It was a fair question.  I grew up on a lake and at the beach… I got married barefoot in my parents back yard.  I was indeed shoeless most of the time.  “Right, sorry.  Just a sec,” I would say and fetch my shoes.  Now, by shoes I obviously mean one of my 15 pairs of Reef flip-flops.  I didn’t own a pair of close-toed shoes and never had unless they were for a specific sport’s season.  Mr. Gear Head could not handle it.  Evidently, you should not go hiking in flip-flops.  You should also not go “flats” fishing in flip-flops.  If you wear flip-flops to float the river you will probably lose at least one.  And, when the weather dips below 65 degrees, your toes do in fact get a little cold even in the cutest of flip-flops.  So, I have learned that there exists things called hiking boots (I still just can’t), river shoes, snow boots, and SOCKS!  Who knew?

When we moved out to the Ranchito the shoe thing got a little crazy when he declared that no one could go outside of the yard proper in anything but boots.  I was pretty lax with this rule both with myself and the kids, until a huge snake tried to eat our 6 week old puppy OUT OF MY LAP in the front yard!  So, guess what else there are? SNAKE BOOTS! Yes, please.  Most days you will find me in a very well-worn, puppy-chewed, muddy pair of snake boots around here.  Now, they are precious with my swim-suit and cover-up when I go straight from the pool to the chicken coop or garden, or with PJ’s early in the morning, but I have learned. Even if I wasn’t nervous about snakes, I would don these boots as I worked around here.  There are stickers that will get you in flip-flops.  Let’s just say that if I were to clean the coop out in flip-flops my feet would be, ummmm gross.  Even gardening in flip-flops or watering the plants in the courtyard means wet and muddy feet.  In my snake boots I know my tootsies will be protected from all of the elements (and reptiles).

Now, I love my flip-flops.  I still have SEVERAL pairs.  I buy at least one new pair every summer when I go home to Florida at my favorite surf shop.  But, there is a time and a place, you know?  I held on tight not only to my shoes (or lack of shoes), but to a lot of aspects of my so-called “identity” when we first got married and moved to Texas.  Texas is a whole thing.  Like I always say, I love my home state, but I don’t need earrings in the shape of it, or to eat Florida-shaped waffles.  In Texas they do.  In the early days, when my marriage was very hard and my home felt so very far away, I took every chance I could to buck the whole thing.  This was not what I had signed on for, you know?  I was not going to “lose myself” in this.  You were not going to bully me with your big ‘ole Texas cowboy boots and bluebonnets and chips and salsa!  Nope.

When I look back on those years I realize now that I was worshiping the god of my own expectations…. Mourning what I thought my life would look like.  Rebelling against what it really was.  I was refusing to change my shoes for the occasion. Here is the thing, the rebellion in my spirit didn’t change anything about my circumstances.  My life was deep in the heart of Texas.  I was only hurting myself.  I was disrespecting not only my husband, but God who had not only brought us together but placed us here.  Proverbs 16:9 says, “In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.”  The harder I held to the plans in my heart, the more I missed of the steps He had established for me.

So, what was I to do?  I was very literally a fish out of water (because there is no water).  Someone more eloquent than me may say something like, “Bloom where you are planted.”  We are certainly all created with unique personalities and passions.  We are stirred by some things and apathetic to others.  We shine in some areas and tend to fail in others.  We are drawn here and repelled there.  But all of that is so much bigger than a physical place, isn’t it?  Can’t all of that transcend mere geography?  Don’t we trust our Creator to bring those things out wherever we are?  Won’t He use them in the steps He is establishing?

Last weekend my mom and I cashed in on our Christmas present and took a road trip to a little shop you may have heard of called the Magnolia Silos…. Ahhhh, so dreamy! One treasure I picked up there was a little sign (thanks Jimmy Don) that says, “She designed a life she loved.”

Man, does this speak to me.  Sometimes we are asked to lay down the expectations we had, what we thought our life would be, where we thought our life would be, what we thought it would feel like, or look like.  Maybe it is the husband we thought we would have, the number of kids we thought we would have, when they would arrive, the bank account we expected by now, the house, the success. Sometimes we thought we would live flip-flops lives and we find ourselves in snake boots.  We plan our path but sometimes the steps God has established for us are different.  When we find ourselves down a new path, a different path, maybe a path we didn’t choose we still have a choice.  We can take what we DO HAVE and design a life we love.

For example, we have already established that I am an animal lover (hoarder, whatever).  That used to look like this: 

When I go home to Florida, I still love to hang out with these beauties every chance I get.  Guess what we have none of in West Texas?  Right, manatees.  So now it looks more like this little surprise:

Who doesn’t love a bunny in their bathtub.

I used to fancy myself a poet and would spend long afternoons at the beach or lake or some botanical gardens on a blanket writing all alone. Let me just say that doesn’t happen much anymore (ever, at all). I have to use my creativity in ways that work in my actual life.  I have to bloom where I am planted.  I may cook a creative meal, do crafts with the kids, cultivate a creative space outside.  Perhaps writing a book  is in my future but right now I have this little blog.  One day I may have the opportunity to really pour into and speak to women, but right now most of my teaching comes in the form of home school days with my kindergartner,  2nd, 5th, and 6th grader.  The gifting is there, the call… It just looks a bit like Latin and long-division in this season rather than Bible study.  I love being outdoors more than anything but my view is different from what I thought it would be.  There is no water as far as the eye can see… no moss hanging low from the magnolia trees, no mountain peaks in the distance.  So, I plant some flowers, paint some rockers, hang some lights and enjoy the view that I do have.  I love a beautiful event… I love every detail of it.  Until very recently the only parties I was having were birthday parties for my kids.  We’ve done it all; pumpkin patches to Minecraft, dinosaurs to cowboys, “glamping” to knights.  I have poured over those details knowing that one day there will be beautiful tablescapes and lovely appetizers, and fabulous grown-up dinner parties.

I believe that God places things in our hearts… callings, dreams, passions, gifts.  These are both in our DNA and come from our life experiences.  These are real.  These are important.  But sometimes we think we’ll be wearing flip-flops on the journey and the road requires snake boots.  There has to be something in between rebelling against the steps God is establishing, and giving up entirely on all He has laid on our hearts.  Are we brave enough not to let our expectations steal the joys of our realities?  Can we acclimate to our real life and let go of our own agendas?  Can we adapt our hopes, pursuits, and talents for “such a time as this” (Esther 4:14)…. for such a place, or season of life as this?  Can we trust Him with our steps?  Do you trust Him to give you all you need to design a real life you really love right here and now?  God is a bit of a Gear Head too and says in 2 Peter 1:3 that His divine power, “has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of Him who called us by His own glory and goodness.”  Everything we need.  Right here.

My Reefs don’t do me much good around the Ranchito.  No matter how much I wish they did, no matter how much I may love them, no matter how much I used to wear them, it doesn’t change the fact that they are not the proper foot attire for my life here and now.  I was standing on the sidelines afraid of stickers and mud and snakes and missing out on so much awesome because I wouldn’t change my shoes. I had to lay it down, let it go.  Now, you better believe that the snake boots will not be packed in a couple of weeks when we head to the beach.  I don’t need them there.  But here in my real life, on the journey God has me, taking the steps He has established for me, I needed to adapt, I needed to trust, I needed to figure out how to be me here.  I needed some new shoes.  Good thing He has got me covered.

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes you have to stop reading and writing and posting about community and get down in the middle of it.  Sometimes it’s girls’ weekends and drinks by the pool but sometimes it is something very, very different.  Sometimes “loving your tribe hard” can break your heart.  Sometimes living Romans 12:15, “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn,” minors on the rejoicing and majors on the mourning.  Sometimes it’s not so cute, and fun, and awesome.

I have been on the fringe of tragedy a little too often lately.  Like, family-shattering, life changing, devastating tragedy…. Like the kind of tragedy that, even though it is not your own, keeps you up at night with the thought of “what if it were me?”  Like the kind of tragedy that punches you in the gut and takes the wind out of you for a long time.  Like the kind of tragedy that makes you want to grab the remote of life and rewind, for goodness sake, or just turn the whole horrible thing off.  Like the kind of tragedy that pushes all of your worst fears to the very forefront of every unanswered phone call… and you can’t tell me not to worry about it because I just watched it all happen.  It did happen. What do we do with it?  How do we walk out the hardest of hards with one another?

When we look to the culture of women celebrated or at least made famous today we see shows like, “Keeping Up With The Kardashians,” or “The Real Housewives of ______.”   Although I may have paused on one of these for a few too many painful moments, I cannot say that I have watched either much.  But I can see, from headlines and social media, what they are all about.  You know too.  Women who are all about themselves.  Women who will get what they want no matter what.  Women who will put you down to lift themselves up.  Frenemies…. What the heck is a frenemy?   Who are these women?  Why do we want to watch as they back stab each other in their fancy clothes and huge hair?  Why can we not look away as their lives, relationships, and Botox unravels?   What does this say about us as women?

Do you have Bible crushes?  I know I’m a total nerd but I so do.  As far as the men go, it’s Joshua all the way for me!  Give me some Jericho marching, “as for me and my house-ing”, “be strong and courageous-ness” all day long.  But my girl-crush is precious Ruth.  Now, you want to talk about a lady that knew how to walk along someone in the midst of tragedy?  Our girl Ruth.  When her mother-in-law Naomi lost her husband and both her sons (Ruth’s husband included) in a foreign land, Ruth declared that she would travel back to Bethlehem with her.  When the women arrived back “home” to the whispers and gossip of The Real Housewives of Bethlehem, Ruth immediately did whatever she needed to make sure her mother in law was provided for.  She gleaned the fields behind the workers, even thought she was shunned and an outcast.   Her hard work and loyalty caught the eye of a rich land owner named Boaz and eventually he did whatever he had to do to gain Ruth as his wife.  Listen, this woman is in the genealogy of David, therefore Jesus.  Why?  She did not do drama, she did not quit, she did not shy away from grief, and she literally worked her fingers to the bone when the time of tragedy was upon her.  The blessing was in the work.  The work brought the blessing.

“And let our people learn to devote themselves to good works, so as to help cases of urgent need, and not be unfruitful” (Titus 3:14)

“Love one another with brotherly affection.  Outdo one another in showing honor.  Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord.  Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.  Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality.”  (Romans 12:10-13)

“Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God’s grace in its various forms.”  (I Peter 4:10)

“Christ has not body now but yours.  No hands, no feet on earth but yours.  Yours are the eyes through which He looks compassion on this world.  Yours are the feet with which He walks to do good.  Yours are the hands through which He blesses all the world.  Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, yours are the eyes, you are His body.  Christ has no body now on earth but yours.”  (Teresa of Avila)

Work.  There are times of prayer and notes and lovely thoughts.  And then there are just straight up times of work.  What do Real Housewives of the Church of Jesus do when tragedy strikes their tribe, their community, their Spiritual family?  They do the work.  Here is the deal, a family mourning needs to eat real meals.  A house full of devastated family members from out-of-town needs a real vacuum run.  A lawn left un-mowed by tragedy needs a real lawn mower.  Crying eyes need real water-proof mascara bought for the day you never wanted to live through.  It’s not always warm and snuggly and Facebook worthy, but this is real.

Last week, in the midst of this tragedy, I sent a simple text to a tribe member several steps closer to the heartache than me.  “Hey, I’m at the store.  Do you need anything?”  Yes, she did.  How thankful I was to be able to meet a real need in that moment.  So, I got the requested items and some flowers and a bottle of wine because flowers and wine makes everything a little better.  I met another dear friend over there and we unloaded the car and headed in. In the midst of her serving and meeting needs on the front line, her own home had been a bit neglected.  While she was on the phone working to make important arrangements, my friend and I rolled up our sleeves and started washing countertops and sink-fulls of dishes.   It didn’t matter that we didn’t know where they all went or which soap she liked to use on what… There was a real need and we met it.  Then, we prayed together.  She needed prayer.  We needed to pray.  The physical need was met so we sought to meet the spiritual one.  As we prayed together, we heard the click, click, click of a camera going off.  Her 4-year-old was taking pictures of us in this act (73 to be exact).  Later she sent us a few of these snapshots from her phone and we made the comment “Real Housewives of Midland, Tx.”

This is how you walk the hardest of the hard with each other, in living rooms surrounded by full laundry baskets and tissue boxes.  You roll up your sleeves and sacrifice your day and wash the dishes of a friend who cannot.  You make a bed and make a grocery run.  You bring a meal and some company.  You pray and cry and do the work of what this kind of grief requires.  I am the least of these.  I am humbled and learning from those that are so much better at this work than me.  I think we all serve in the ways we would want to be served if it were us and we probably fail there. I have.  But you come back and do the work.

Why would we waste one more moment watching women tear each other apart, use each other, hurt each other?  There is so much real work to be done, both in the rejoicing and in the mourning.  There is work to be done in birth and death, in raising kids and sticking marriages out, in enduring in-laws and caring for aging parents.  After seeing the rather unflattering pictures of us on that living room floor on that rainy, sad, Tuesday morning my immediate text back was “DELETE THESE!”  But, do you know what?   I’m glad we have them.  I’m glad to share them. (I’m glad my friends let me). Here is a tiny slice of the least of these desperately wanting to do the good work.  Can we make this what “Real Housewives of _____” are all about?  Women for women?  Women willing to wade through the hardest of hards together?  Women who are willing to stop reading, writing, posting, wishing for real community and brave enough to do the work to get there?  Let’s celebrate that, Girls.  In the midst of our tears or joy, let’s be a generation of Ruths willing to work hard for the good of each other.