Raising our Daughters - FIGHT for her!

Just to be clear....I'm not JUST talking to the women who've birthed girls......I'm talking to the men and women who are PRESENT in the lives of the next generation of girls. I'm talking to the teachers / counselors / aunts / uncles / mothers / fathers/ writers /pastors / neighbors / friends / grandparents.

You, too, are raising daughters.

So....FIGHT for her.

There will be times when she cannot navigate this life because it's too heavy. Talk to her, guide her, pray with her, get her the help she needs.

Be her voice. Be her fingers tapping out phone numbers and making connections. Be her boundary-guard and fiercely hiss at anyone who dares cross her boundaries.

Unleash your inner adult warrior and fight for her.

There will be times when hormones or mental health struggles or physical health worries burden her or confuse her or make her mess up.

Be the stability she needs. Be strong and steady. Be her anchor and anchor her to the unending steadiness that is Jesus.

There will be times when she has forgotten her password or needs to figure out math or needs guidance traversing the social dynamics of high school.

Be present. Be all ears. Be gracious. Be patient (oh....be so patient).

There will be times when relationships are tangled and mixed up and messy. When a sibling or a friend has ghosted her or cut her off or ignored her or sent her a nasty text.

Love her! Tell her that you will be her army on the battlegrounds of this relationship. Embolden her with your words and ways of love.

There will be launchings. To kindergarten, Sunday school, high school, camp, college/university, and beyond. She will need you fight for her.....to dry her tears and teach her how to boil an egg.

There will be mistakes. She may lash out or call you names, she may question her faith, she may question other things you dare not repeat. Ah....these are the sweetest moments of all! Lean in, Warriors, and fight the hardest for her here.

Fight for her, with her, and alongside her. Fight over her and behind her.

Just keep on fighting.

She needs you.

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bv

#womenencouragers #fight #raisingher

Raising our Daughters: Have MANY Conversations (Sometimes Talk).

 Raising Our Daughters: Have MANY Conversations. (Sometimes talk.)

Raising our daughters - and our sons, for that matter - means we need to be doing a lot of talking and even more listening.

We need to talk about All The Things.

Talk about school and friends and relationships; talk about God and faith and a prayer life; talk about stress and healthy stress-relief options; talk about sex and sexuality; talk about social media and cultural influences; talk about mental health.

And ensure that more than half of these conversations involve you just listening. Listen to your daughters (and your sons) talk about their worries, fears, and relationships. Listen while she shares her hopes, faith journey, anxieties, passions, dreads, dreams, passions, friend-dramas, and doubts.

Listen and let her ask questions. Don't shut her down, silence her, shame her, say she shouldn't feel that way. She just told you she does. Be the safe place she needs to express her negative emotions.*

Listen well. Listen quietly. Stop what you are doing because the laundry/ dinner/ phone call WILL wait for you and this moment may not. Let your ears be open and available for all those conversations that your daughters (and sons) need to have. The most meaningful ones will happen when you are too busy or when it's too late at night or you have just made yourself a hot cup of tea and cracked open your novel. Trust me.

Keep your ears open even then.

And practice your poker face. Make eye contact. Quiet your breathing. Silence your rebuttals. Practice your poker face and quieted body language because if you have NOT had at least one conversation with your child that you DID NOT WANT TO HAVE - that made you feel uncomfortable, or overwhelmed, or scared, or nervous about what the neighbours/pastor/your family might say - you need to ask yourself if you are even talking about things that matter.

Go to the hard topic places. Let your child be intense and honest. Let her spill her darkest thoughts and worries into your adult lap. Let her ask questions and vocalize her doubts.

Because - trust me - if you are not the one having these conversations with her, SOMEONE ELSE WILL.

Are you afraid you won't know how to respond well?

Are you worried that you won't be eloquent enough to say what needs to be said?

Are you disquieted by the notion that you are not smart enough, trained enough, good enough to hear her out?

Well, join the club that's called Parenting!

It's okay to say, "I don't know." You are not letting her down; you are honouring her just by hearing her out and then acknowledging that you might not have the answers either.

It's healthy to admit, "I never looked at it that way. What a fresh perspective."

It's fine to respond with, "Phew, that's a heavy topic for midnight! Let's talk for 10 more minutes then head to bed and go for coffees in the morning. I want to talk more about this, but, dang, I am tired!"

It's wise to reply with, "I don't agree with your line of thinking but I respect your questions. Let's go talk to someone who can give us both some clarity!"

It's heartening to say, "Let's pray together right now about this."

It's necessary to share, "I love you so much and God loves you even more. I'm honoured that you trust me to talk with you about these things. I'm so thankful for this time with you."

Talk. And listen.

It's okay that you don't have all the answers for her. She just needs some help holding all her words.

May God bless you with shoulders to lean on, hands to hold her, and great big ears for all she has to share.

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bv

#womenencouragers #raisingdaughters #talk #listen #listenallthetime #listenwell #praytogether #love

* Adam Young, "The Big Six: What Every Child Needs from their Parents", adamyoungcounseling.com

Memoirs of a Family

once there was two.  Now there are 248.  This is the story of my family.

Today’s family reunion saw about 248 renditions, combinations, and illustrations of our unique and beautiful DNA.  We are a very tall tribe, strong-boned, and sturdy-hipped.  Many of us behold this world with an intensely blue gaze.  We are fiercely stubborn, passionately loyal, and decidedly tenacious.   You might not want to mess with, argue with, or cross us!

Several years ago, our matriarch – Beppe (Dutch Frisian for grandma) – passed away and we’ve all felt a little disconnected and disjointed since then.

But today – today marked 70 years since my grandparents crossed an ocean with six children and a seventh baby on the way from the Netherlands to Canada - and we all needed to gather, remember, and celebrate. 

About half of us could be there, because….well, you try to schedule something with 248 stubborn, loyal, and tenacious tall people  and you know why only half of us could be there.

So we gathered under the pristine blue skies to share, talk, and reminisce.  It’s something families can do well when they spend time together.  My Aunt Susan stood up to share her 9-year-old memories of that Great Adventure that was their immigration story to Canada.

“We were so excited about this adventure on a boat that would take us to Canada.  Because we couldn’t take much money over, our parents bought us new clothes and shoes before we left.  We were so excited but also so sad to say good-bye to friends, family, church family, neighbours, and Oma.  We knew we might never see them again,” she shared. 

I couldn’t even imagine that kind of good-bye.  I can’t even imagine that kind of adventure.  But I’m so glad my Pake and Beppe did. 

Once there were just the two of them, married during World War II.  My Beppe wore a black dress, because that’s what Dutch brides did during the war.  And now - even though Pake and Beppe no longer walk this earth - their legacy does in 248 variations.  Their legacy exists in the lives of their seven children (one passed on), in the lives of their grandchildren, great-grandchildren and great-great grandchildren. 

Every single one of us has been touched, tainted, and tailored by joy and sorrow, life and loss, birth and death, healing and hurt.  It’s shaped the tall, sturdy-boned, fiercely stubborn people we’ve become and as we live, breathe, and live out these days God’s given us, I’m curious as to what comes next.  What stories will we create?  What adventures will we embark upon?  What connections will we make?  What legacy will we leave behind?

Once there was two.  Now there are 248.  Let the story continue…

Silver Thread

 How

is it possible that in this place - 

so temporary,

so transient,

so fickle and fraught with ugliness 

and jagged-edged despair -  

how is it possible that this place that we call

HOME

can simultaneously be so 

terrifyingly horrible

and so tangibly beautiful?

Fiery-red sun sighing settles low,

Brittle snow and ice glitter and crunch beneath our feet,

black-eyed juncos flit and flutter

and the great arc of sky stretches and yawns above.

How is it possible that this place 

which can tear our life apart in a moment

or the blink of an eye

so that we are shredded by grief

and sifting through the trauma-torn pieces; 

how is is possible that this place that can feel like hell

can also make our hearts soar?

It must be the possibility and mystery

that can only be

GOD.

Bringing beauty out of gutted brokenness

And healing to ravaged hearts

and colour to bled-out lives

and hope to despairing emptiness.

Not 

a silver lining around our sorrows

but the thread of

constancy

and 

steadfastness

and 

faithfulness

that runs right 

through 

them.

Of Foxes & Farewells (an open letter)

 You weren’t allowed to peek inside.

 I’d been decorating the room for a month - secretly sneaking in an alphabet, a giant calendar, fun little music shakers, math manipulatives, a table, and chairs – but you and Don were not allowed to peek inside until that very first day of school.

 And when that day arrived, so began our Homeschool journey together.

Over the years, our family grew. Our classroom spilled over to invade every single space of our home, our yard, our life.  Books piled onto every horizontal surface, schedules taped to cupboard doors, a motto for education written in word art and hanging on the living room wall:

 “A true education begins with WONDER and ends with WISDOM”.

For a while, every subject was taught and led and supervised by me.  I sat by your side and traced letters with you, shaping the sounds aloud together.  My fingers followed the words on the page that you read.  We sang songs.  We memorized Bible verses and poems. 

We were tethered together.  Side by side.  Mom and son.  Teacher and student.

But as you got older, you became more independent, more confident, more capable and, soon, I was sending you off to tackle subjects on your own while I traced letters with your siblings. 

It wasn’t always magical. 

There was a lot of mess.  A lot of tears.  A lot of times when I had to speak words of truth and encouragement to you.  A lot of times when you had to speak words of truth and encouragement to me.

But the beauty of homeschooling is its flexibility; so your studies and learning ebbed and flowed around the broken, messy shape of our lives, our health issues, our schedules. 

It was messy.  But there was also magic.

You read books, wrote essays, multiplied algebraic expressions, coded.

But you also joined a homeschool hockey program, hiked, played in sport’s tournaments, joined in with co-op classes and school fairs, made new friends. 

And as you grew older, you needed my help less.  My supervision less.  My teaching less.  You were no longer tethered to my side, holding my hand to cross the street, asking for my assistance with every question. 

I still sit beside you to wrestle through coding problems or give advice on how you drive or discuss theological topics; but there are times now when you teach me.  (like:  How to use a phone without throwing it! )

You know, parenting is this delicate dance of holding on and letting go.  And as your parent and homeschool teacher of twelve years, I’m feeling the disquieting tug of this dance even more. 

I want to hold on.  To keep you by my side, in our homeschool bubble, and near.

But I want to let go.  To see you grow, learn, and soar.

And then yesterday, your little brother finished his read-aloud….a story of a boy and a fox…..and the final scene reduced me.

"No,” commanded the boy to the fox, “I don't want you to stay.  I'll always leave the porch door open, but you have to go."

It eloquently articulated the unsettled mixed-up feelings of parenting/ homeschool teaching….to want to hold on.  To need to let go.

So, my son, next year you will walk away from the VanHuisstede Homeschool Academy and, God willing, attend Grade 12 at a local public school.  It’s the next step that we’ve prayed over, agonized over, talked over, discussed over and over.

You no longer need me tethered to your side or holding your hand.  And, even though I kinda want you to stay, its time to go. 

Liam, I’ll always leave the porch door open, but you have to go.

Love always,

Mom

Expose Yourself (or The Great Unmasking of 2022)

I wore a mask to church today.  I sang at the top of my lungs, recited parts of the church liturgy, and even chatted afterwards with friends from behind it.  I continued to exaggerate and concentrate facial expression with my eyes - dramatically raised brows, overly crinkled eyes, theatrically softened glances, elaborately furrowed frowns – because I’ve learned and adapted and grown accustomed to this masked world I’ve lived in for the past two years; a world forever altered by the covid-19 virus. 

Today, I wore a mask, but tomorrow, I’m putting my mask away.

Heck, I might even wash the beautiful, flower-patterned one that I’ve kept in my pocket or in my purse or over my face for the majority of these last years.  I might begin wearing lipstick when I go out again (okay, I never actually wore lipstick…but I might start!).  I’ll have to learn how to reanimate the lower half of my face when conversing.  It’s time for my teeth, lips, and tongue to take an active, animated part in all the socializing I plan to do tomorrow and the next day and the next.  Because tomorrow, I’m taking it off.  I’m exposing myself.  The mask will be tossed into a pile of covid memorabilia that I’ve amassed over the past two years.

How about you?

Are you ready-set-going to expose that beautiful face of yours?  Shock everyone with the mustache you’ve been secretly growing and grooming?  Awe everyone with those gleaming white teeth?  Impress everyone with smiles, grimaces, clenched or slack jaws?  Or perhaps you’ve taken that mask off long long long ago.

Either way, tomorrow we collectively unmask.  Lay bare.  Expose ourselves.

And it’s time to do the same with our hearts.

What just happened?  And who have I become?

I encourage you to take a good long look at yourself.  I plan to do the same.  Let’s call it “Me Unmasked”.  Because we are skipping or running or limping or crawling out of a pandemic that has forever changed our lives and it’s time to reflect on how we’ve reacted to covid, how we’ve grown, and if this is a healthy place to remain. 

There’s this thing that happens when trauma strikes; trauma can take the form of a pandemic, a war, social isolation, illness, death.  There’s this thing that happens when trauma strikes; trauma erodes the world we know and recognize; it blurs the familiar edges of it even as it readjusts, alters, fashions the world and its people into a new place with brave new people that are rising up out of the ashes and ruins of the old. 

Like it or not, this world has changed.  Like it or not, we have changed.

How have you and I reacted to covid?  Did you get sick?  Did I adhere to policies?  Did you get vaccinated?  Did I wear a mask?  

How have you and I grown?  Are you angry? Am I sad? Have you destroyed relationships? Have I become obsessed with resistance? Are you closer to God?  Is my faith stronger?

Are you and I in a healthy place?  What have I learned ABOUT MYSELF?  How have I grown?  Am I happy with this brave new person?  Is she someone who shows love to others and love to God? 

There are different ways to experience hardship.  We can resist hardship; adjust to hardship; succumb to hardship.  Either way, we grow.  Some of us are emerging stronger, more beautiful, and resilient.  Some of us have become deformed, weaker, uglier, and rigid.

Today, as we collectively unmask, I encourage you to take a good long look at the naked truth. 

What just happened and who have I become?

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bv

Good-bye, not Good Riddance. A Reflection on 2021.

I confess: I spent too much time and energy wishing away the days of 2021. 

When lockdowns happened, I eagerly looked ahead to their ending.

When group sizes were reduced, I bemoaned their tiny gathering sizes and planned parties for the future.

When things got cancelled, shut down, or re-arranged, I had adult-sized temper tantrums that may have included ugly crying.

There were fires, there were floods, there was the discovery of mass, unmarked graves of indigenous children; there was division, there was unrest, there were families and churches dividing and I kept looking ahead to the time when this would All. Be.Over.

And in the process of wishing away the bad and the ugly, I’ve also been wishing away the good. 

Covid, natural disasters, and the revelation of horrible historical moments have not been the only things and events that have defined 2021.

In 2021, my family continued to grow older; we celebrated birthdays and anniversaries, healed from surgery or injury, lost teeth, got a driver’s license. My church continued to worship God online and offline; we sang new songs, prayed together, and continued to find creative ways to reach out into the community.  My neighbours continued to walk their dogs; to share baking and books and stories.  My homeschool group continued to hike, explore, study, and play sports.  My sons played hockey. My daughter rode horses. My husband worked more often from home. And, even against the backdrop of so many challenges and hardships this past year, there have been pockets of joy and much to cherish.

So I won’t say Good Riddance to 2021. Only Good-bye.

Though many parts of 2021 were messy and difficult, I don’t want to wish away this one wild and precious life that God’s given me. I want to live. I want to cherish all the moments: the good, the bad, even the ugly.

And I encourage you to do the same.

Life is way too short to be wished away.

Instead, let’s abide by the words of Psalm 90:12: “So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.”

Every single one of us – from the 94 year old great-grandfather to the tiniest newborn baby – are sojourners of this earth. We’re born. We live. We die. Our stay is fleeting and temporary, so let’s live our lives well. Let’s live trusting that God is in control. Let’s live confident that God walks alongside us through trials, troubles, and joy.  Let’s seek out and share beauty, kindness, encouragement, and love. Let’s live abundantly. We have only one lifetime to do so.

And as the time-sands of 2021 dwindle away, let’s look back and reflect before moving forward into 2022. Let’s each look to ourselves and ask: what have I learned and how have I grown in the last year?

1.    What has been hard?

2.    What been wonderful?

3.    What tools helped me through difficulties and enabled me to celebrate the good?

4.    How have these experiences shaped me, my relationship with God, and my relationships with others?  

My friends, this past year was not a waste of time. This past year was not a furtive unfolding that existed outside of God’s control and plans, nor was it an accumulation of days to be discarded or dismissed.

Instead, 2021 was a monumental year of memories and moments that challenged us, strengthened us, weakened us, grew us, revealed our hearts.

So, don’t say Good Riddance.

Instead reflect on 2021 – number your days, gain that wisdom - then say Good-bye.

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bv