Five Minute Friday: Encouragment

Five minutes. To write. To silence the inner critic. To build community.

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It was so easy to be a cheerleader for my kids when they were little. Every little accomplishment, every little milestone, they deserved to be applauded. And it gave them the confidence to keep pushing, to keep moving, to keep growing.

But when did it become easier to criticize than encourage? This thought puzzles me constantly. Why do I, their biggest fan, find myself picking on the things they do wrong instead of applauding the things they do right?

I’m working on this, this cheering for my kids. Most days I can do it effortlessly.

But then the quarreling gets the better of me. Or the messes. Or the pushing back as they try to expand their boundaries just one more inch.

Yesterday I was telling my husband how I think I may have finally gotten over the hump of acknowledging how much closer our teenager is to being an adult. That it’s finally starting to feel just a bit easier to give her the freedom to blossom. And I find that in my shift of attitude, I can encourage her more freely.

I can applaud her accomplishments that aren’t so little, cheer her through her milestones even as I grieve knowing that each one takes her a little further from me. I can let her know I believe in her and she believes me. There once was a day where I know she didn’t, where she thought I only saw the negatives.

I want her, I want all of our kids, to have the confidence to keep pushing, to keep moving, to keep growing.

Because I really am their biggest fan.

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Five Minute Friday: Messenger

I see the look in his eyes after I have unleashed my mother’s fury on him, this boy who tries my patience like no other child. I am frustrated, I am heartbroken, and I am done.

But his eyes, they tell me so much more than this moment being one of rebellion. There’s remorse, pain, fear, and a plea for love and understanding.

I see the look on his face after he brings the house down with his music. Proud, with eyes searching for mine, wanting to know I am proud, too.

This boy, this child of my heart, my firstborn son has the ability to drive me to my knees more often than I have ever before. I long for him to know God, to know he is loved by Him more than he can even imagine.

But his ten year old heart needs to know I love him, too. And in these days where it seems like we are battling wills more often than not, I can see that need growing.

I long to convey God’s love and acceptance to my son, and it starts with my own words and actions.

I go to my son, this child of my heart, and I tell him I am sorry. That I love him. That I am so very, very proud he is mine.

And I see relief and a belief that God loves, too.

Linking for Five Minute Friday.