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St. Joe Elizabeth Ministry, 101 W Pearl Street, Wapakoneta, OH (2026)

08/21/2022

Don’t let me cry mama.
Don’t listen to those comments mama. You’re not spoiling me. Your millions of kisses don’t hurt me mama. You picking me up and holding me close to your chest doesn’t hurt me.
Don’t let me cry mama. I trust you, I know your voice, I know your smell, I find so much comfort in your touch since I came out of your belly mama.
It was so warm and safe in there.
Things are so overwhelming out here mama. I don’t understand this new world yet, it’s big, it’s new, it’s scary mama. I need you. You’re my safe space.
I won’t always need you to pick me up mama, one day I’ll be big and I won’t be so scared. One day I won’t be so little, and I won’t need you to rock me to sleep, kiss my forehead, and hold me.
It won’t be like this for long. But right now mama, I need you.
✍️by: That Everyday Mama ❤️

08/19/2022

“Strange, isn’t it? Each man’s life touches so many other lives. When he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?” (Clarence - George Bailey's guardian angel in "It's a Wonderful Life")

Never, ever forget that your life has a purpose and that you are deeply loved. Life can be so incredibly hard sometimes, but it is also very, very good, and you are here for a reason.

God has chosen you to be born at this particular time in history. You are made in His image, and you have a purpose. It is so good that you exist.

Things are going to be okay. Remember - God loves you! ❤

06/08/2022

Dear Mom and Dad,

Please stick with me.

I can’t think clearly right now because there is a rather substantial section of my prefrontal cortex missing. It’s a fairly important chunk, something having to do with rational thought.

You see, it won’t be fully developed until I’m about 25. And from where I sit, 25 seems a long way off.

But here's what I want my parents to know..

My brain is not yet fully developed.

It doesn’t matter that I’m smart; even a perfect score on my math test doesn’t insulate me from the normal developmental stages that we all go through.

Judgement and intelligence are two completely distinct things. And, the same thing that makes my brain wonderfully flexible, creative and sponge-like also makes me impulsive. Not necessarily reckless or negligent but more impulsive than I will be later in life.

Please stick with me.

So when you look at me like I have ten heads after I’ve done something “stupid” or failed to do something “smart,” you’re not really helping.

You adults respond to situations with your prefrontal cortex (rationally) but I am more inclined to respond with my amygdala (emotionally). And when you ask, “What were you thinking?” the answer is I wasn’t, at least not in the way you are.

You can blame me, or you can blame mother nature, but either way, it is what it is. At this point in my life, I get that you love me, but my friends are my everything.

Please understand that. Right now I choose my friends, but, don’t be fooled, I am watching you. Carefully.

Please stick with me.

Here’s what you can do for me

1. Model adulting.
I see all the behaviours that you are modeling and I hear all of the words you say. I may not listen but I do hear you. I seem impervious to your advice, like I’m wearing a Kevlar vest but your actions and words are penetrating. I promise. If you keep showing me the way, I will follow even if I detour many, many times before we reach our destination.

2. Let me figure things out for myself.
If you allow me to experience the consequences of my own actions I will learn from them. Please give me a little bit of leash and let me know that I can figure things out for myself. The more I do, the more confidence and resilience I will develop.

3. Tell me about you.
I want you to tell me all the stories of the crazy things you did as a teen, and what you learned from them. Then give me the space to do the same.

4. Help me with perspective.
Keep reminding me of the big picture. I will roll my eyes at you and make all kinds of grunt-like sounds. I will let you know in no uncertain terms that you can’t possibly understand any of what I’m going through. But I’m listening. I really am. It’s hard for me to see anything beyond the weeds that I am currently mired in. Help me scan out and focus on the long view. Remind me that this moment will pass.

5. Keep me safe.
Please remind me that drugs and driving don’t mix. Keep telling me that you will bail me out of any dangerous situation, no anger, no lectures, no questions asked. But also let me know over and over and over that you are there to listen, when I need you.

6. Be kind.
I will learn kindness from you and if you are relentless in your kindness to me, someday I will imitate that behaviour. Don’t ever mock me, please and don’t be cruel. Humour me-I think I know everything. You probably did as well at my age. Let it go.

7. Show interest in the things I enjoy.
Some days I will choose to share my interests with you, and it will make me feel good if you validate those interests, by at least acting interested.

One day when the haze of adolescence lifts, you will find a confident, strong, competent, kind adult where a surly teenager once stood. In the meantime, buckle in for the ride.

and..

Please stick with me.

Love,
Your Teenager....
By Helene Wingens

05/03/2022

I was pulling some carpet out with my 11yo son. I asked him how his soccer game went, and he said, “We lost. Again.” We were on the stairs, and he looked back at me with a sullen hangdog expression as though because his team lost, he was a loser.

I could tell that he wasn’t having fun anymore.

We looked at each other for a bit, and I felt at a crossroads. I’ve been in this situation a lot with him playing sports. This season had been pretty rough considering they’d lost every game up to that point.

So I told him that I was on the worst team one year.

“Really?” He said.

“It was baseball. Not soccer. And we lost every single game. I felt pretty low about it, kind of like I was a failure because my team wasn’t winning. And do you know what happened?”

“What?” He asked.

I shrugged. “I grew up to become your dad.”

He looked confused. He asked what I meant, and I said, “In the long run none of it really mattered. I mean, I learned a lot about teamwork. And I made some great friends. But ultimately I grew up, got married, had kids, went to college. Nothing changed because our team lost. Not a thing. Turns out, just because my team lost didn’t mean I was a loser.”

He looked at me, his blue eyes moving side to side, deep in thought. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. You should always try your hardest in every single thing you do. It just means that you don’t have to kick yourself each time you lose a game. And do you know what happens when you stop thinking that losing a game means you’re a loser?”

“What?” he said.

“You’ll start to have fun again.”

He nodded, smiled, and we went back to pulling out carpet.

(Originally published in 2018)

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04/30/2022

I didn’t know lying there in that hotel room bed, the sound of the ocean blowing through the opened door, would be the first time I would hear you say, “I love you, Mama,” as you put your little hand there on my cheek as if to assure me it was true. I didn’t know that early fall morning, wat...

04/20/2022

I hope she knows how hard I try to be a good mom.
I hope she knows that my anger and frustration never diminish my love for her.
I hope she knows I don't want her to strive for perfection; I want her to strive to do her best.
I hope she knows how much joy she brings me 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑎𝑦.

I hope she knows that her laugh lights up my life.
I hope she knows that I will support her no matter her choices, and no matter where life takes her.
I hope she knows that she is always worthy, just as she is.
I hope she knows that labels, grades, numbers on a scale, and other people's opinions 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑑𝑒𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟.

I hope she knows that the most important relationship she'll ever have is with herself.
I hope she knows to do what is right and not what is easy.
I hope she knows that it is a privilege to watch her grow, even though it also breaks my heart.
I hope she knows that she is capable, and that 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑘𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑟.

I hope she knows that every pain, tear, and heartbreak she experiences I feel a thousandfold.
I hope she knows that she is loved beyond measure and beyond words.
I hope she knows that I will never get it all right, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑡𝑟𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔.

I hope she knows.
Even though I tell her . . .
𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔.

Shared with permission from Surviving Mom Blog
Artwork: Love, Naava : Fine Art

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04/03/2022

"Just leave it all, sweetie. Leave the mess. I love having the mess around me, because it means you all were around us today. In fact, I may even leave it until tomorrow just so it feels like a piece of each of you is still here."

Goodness.

What incredible perspective.

A grandmother's point of view, with an empty nest.

And a mother's point of view, with a full one.

The moment kind of took my breath away.

And filled my heart with such a bittersweet reminder.

Just how often I hustle and bustle to pick up our home's messes. Just how often I get after our little ones to "please" straighten up. Just how often I sigh and quietly grumble under my breath. Just how often I wish for even just ten minutes of a straightened home.

A few years ago, I read an article that both broke my heart, while simultaneously piecing it back together, with the most bittersweet reminder. The story was about a mother. A mother, who lost her daughter at a young age. The first Christmas rolled around without her daughter. And, as she sat on the living room floor, and began to wrap presents, amidst the chaos of her other children and dog running through, leaving a kite-tail of a mess with every step they took...she took a deep breath and swallowed her greatest wish of all, caught in her throat, as tears welled in her eyes. What this mother wouldn't give to have her daughter back with their family, making messes everywhere. Stepping over her gift-wrapping station. Leaving cookie crumbs across the kitchen counter. Spilling her milk onto the floor.

What she wouldn't give to have her daughter, and all her messes, back within their home, once again.

The words of the article never left my heart. I have tried with all my heart, even in the deepest, messiest trenches of motherhood, to be thankful. To praise God for the beauty of such a wonderfully chaotic life, right before my very eyes. Fresh within my worn hands. Overflowing my undeserving heart.

Watching my parents lose my little brother at such a young age taught me to never, ever take life for granted. And so, I learned to continuously thank God above, every single day, for these beautiful messes.

Yet, in the hectic-ness of motherhood, we can still lose sight. Our huffs and groans tend to overpower our thankfulness. Our exhaustion and weariness tend to trump our gratitude. We plea for clean and tidy, all while forgetting what the messes truly mean.
But then, God?

He just has this incredibly remarkable way of quietly whispering into our overworked hearts and souls, just when we least expect it. And so very often, just when we need it the most.

And this weekend, He did just that. Through the gentlest, kindest voice on Earth: a grandma's full heart after spending the day with her grandchildren, especially in the midst of such unprecedented times.

"Just leave it all, sweetie. Leave the mess. I love having the mess around me, because it means you all were around us today. In fact, I may even leave it until tomorrow just so it feels like a piece of each of you is still here."

Oh, sometimes, those messes feel like they will simply break you.

But the real truth?

Those messes are actually what absolutely make you and keep you whole and complete.

Because with the messes, come the greatest blessings of all.

*Shared with permission from Gracefully Woven by Elizabeth Spenner

02/18/2022

Hey, God.

Sorry it’s been a minute. But something happened today, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I understood Your heart a little better.

You probably already know why I’m talking, because well...You are God. But I guess the whole point of prayer is to talk, so I’m gonna tell You what happened.

Today, I was at a traffic light staring at Holland, who was screaming in her car seat because a friend gave her a paper clip during preschool and she snuck it home in her clothes, and then accidentally dropped it into the abyss that is my car’s floorboard.

Then, despite her desperate pleas, I wouldn’t pull over so she could unbuckle and climb around the car looking for said paper clip.

That made her BIG mad.

We are talking wailing and crying and gnashing of teeth mad.

*sigh*

Moving on.

Now, if she had known that I couldn’t pull over because I was hurrying to take her somewhere special before soccer practice, maybe she wouldn’t have minded.

But she was screaming too loudly about her paper clip for me to explain.

“You are an EVIL mommy! A wicked step mother! I wish I had a better mommy!”

Un-freaking-believable, right? I gave birth to that little turdlet and she had the audacity to disown me over a paper clip.

So, I let her mourn and scream. There was no reasoning with her, anyways. She wanted what she wanted.

To Holland, that paper clip was the most valuable thing she’d ever owned.

But I couldn’t stop thinking: If only she knew what was coming. If only she knew why I wouldn’t pull over. If only she knew that I wanted to take her out for ice cream—just the two of us—maybe she would have gotten excited.

Maybe she would have forgotten about that stupid paper clip.

I had something in store for her that was so much better than a milligram of bent wire.

But that bent wire was her heart’s desire. She could see nothing else.

I was contemplating this to myself and I realized, holy cow, God.

I’m no better than my toddler.

I am essentially riding around in life’s car seat, clutching tight to my precious paper clips, and raging at you when one falls out of my hands.

My writing job changes, but I liked my job.

A speaking gig falls between my fingers, but it’s the one I was most excited about.

My husband changes as a human, but I was comfortable with who he was.

“My paper clips, God! Pull over and let me collect them! PULL OVER GOD WAAAAAAAH!”

All the while you are watching my tears from the front seat, waiting for the wailing to stop so you can tell me

MY DAUGHTER. Let go of that trinket. Stop your crying. I have something better just up ahead.

So, God. I just want you to know that, in this one small way, my Mama heart understood a little more about your Daddy heart today.

To be honest, I don’t want to lose any of the things I hold unto so tightly. My youth, my writing career, my children being little, my marriage being comfortable. But, if change must happen, I pray you comfort my heart and remind me that Your plans are for my good.

And remind me that for goodness sake, if I can just stop wailing over lost paper clips for one stinking minute, You’ve been trying to take me out for ice cream.

I think this was a prayer. Perhaps a revelation. Maybe more of a brain dump.

Either way, I feel a little closer to you tonight, God.

And I think that deserves an “amen”.

———————————————————————-

shirt: https://www.bonfire.com/paperclip160/

St. Joe Elizabeth Ministry

08/21/2022

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06/08/2022

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