Blending. We simply stepped in, one after the other, in and out of transitions. Once in a while smooth, with snack-y dinners, family snuggles & pick-up soccer games. Oftentimes tense, in the loudest silence, a harsh word, or slamming doors. The world around is full of pain, and we’re feeling that on an intimate level. Try as we might to hold each our own, all of our feelings spill onto one another. Blending, as we know it, has not been easy or clean. No, it’s very messy. But it’s beautiful, too.
Someone said to me recently, or maybe I read it somewhere, that “to those who count themselves blessed, more blessings will come.” When I look back on 2018, I would name that statement as the truth which defined my days. 2018 has not been without its own share of sadnesses. Yet, when I review the year, it is in fact the blessings that stand out.
Have you heard the saying, “it’s like comparing apples to oranges”? This idiom means that while both are fruits, they are extremely different from each other. One of my kids is as different from his brother as their juice preferences… This post was originally posted on the Bridging The Gap blog. Expectations and realities As […]
Before their father died, he sang a song to them which his father had sung to him. Now that he’s gone, I sing to them with sweetly altered lyrics.
Grieving with children is a complicated thing. I want to be genuine with my young boys about sadness and the freedom to feel and express emotion, but I also want to keep unnecessary burdens off of their shoulders. I want to help them grieve in their own ways and in their own timing, but I also want them to be able to be just happy sometimes. My strategy for how to grieve with children is as young as those children and it grows and develops with them.
In February 2016, the lives of Lindsey Atkins and Lizzie Lindberg went through epic changes that culminated to a profound juxtaposition on Saturday, February 20th. These circumstances compelled us to write our stories together.