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Harms in the Haunted Hotel

by KimHarms 0 Comments

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Sometimes you just need to quit

laundry and

cleaning and

cooking and

taxi-driving and

writing to

spend some quality time with your wild and crazy boys in a haunted hotel: complete with bonus Corey Harms Scares. That man – and his children – find way too much joy in freaking me out.

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~Thanks to the Wilderness Resort for another fantastic break from real life.~  🙂

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View from the Bleachers

file00011578973“Why can’t you see what I can see!?!”

There are days I’d like to try to knock some vision into my children. I’ve paid attention over the years. I think I have a pretty good sense of their giftedness and their capabilities. And I usually believe I know the best way for them to reach their potential.

But here’s the deal.

Though they share some of my DNA and character traits, they are not me. I can’t make them see anything they don’t want to see. I can’t force them to change their perspective. And on top of that, sometimes I’m wrong. So I stand by and watch and wait and get on my knees and pray and on occasion ask God why this whole parenting thing has to be so crazy hard.

But sometimes, just when I think they will never get it, that they will never see the potential I see, they surprise me.

And I am like the parent on the bleachers watching my boy push through the blockers to sack the quarterback, and feeling as if my heart is going to burst. “Did you see that?” I say to everyone within earshot. “Did you see what he just did? That’s my boy!” Because there is no prouder moment than to see your child take ownership of his abilities and use them.

Sometimes I wonder how God feels as he sits in the hypothetical bleachers watching my story play out.

He has gifted me too.  He has set talents and passions deep inside my heart. Am I using them? Am I so scared of failure that I bury them deep inside? Am I afraid of what people will think of me? Have I grown complacent in my comfortable life?

How about you?

Maybe you can paint a picture that causes someone to stop in their tracks. Maybe you can silence a room with song. Maybe your fluency in Spanish is just the first step in a call to serve Christ in a foreign country. Or maybe your brain can solve a complex math problems or take part in technological advances or develop a new treatment for cancer.

What if in the bleachers on the sidelines of your life God was at the edge of his seat on the 50-yard-line? Do you sometimes wonder if he’d want to knock some vision into you? Would he be thinking, ‘I know what she can do. I have such plans for her, if she could only see it.’

And what if one day you finally gave in. What if you said, “I’m scared out of my mind. People might think I’m crazy. But I know this is what God wants me to do.” And you do it.

And maybe nobody else will ever get it.

And maybe nobody else will ever even see it.

Your Father will.

And as he sits there in the stands, I imagine his heart might feel as if it’s going to burst from his chest as he wipes a tear from his eye and speaks quietly to your heart. “I saw that,” he whispers. “I knew you could do it. That’s my girl.”

Romans 12: 6-8  We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith; 7 if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; 8 if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully.

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A Time to Hold On and A Time to Let Go

by KimHarms 0 Comments

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Sometimes my kids say things on the fly that resonate with me for a long time afterwards. This following little Lewis phrase is one of those statements. Letting go is hard. In this case it was literal, but in parenting it seems I am always figuratively letting go of something I want to hold on to.  

“Mom, let go.”

Those three words hit me like a punch to the gut. Hot tears fogged up my sunglasses.

It was just the mastery of a 2-wheel bike, but it wasn’t. It was more.

My six-year-old’s words echoed in my head as I loosened my grip on that little black bicycle seat and watched my baby boy cruise down the path unassisted.

He doesn’t want my help.

One more item added to the list of ways he doesn’t need me anymore.

That’s what this parenting thing is about though, isn’t it? Training our children up in such a way that they grow in independence. If it is precisely what should happen and what I want to happen, why does it hurt so darn much?

As I watch him reach each new milestone of achievement, my great sense of pride is mixed with an equally great sense of loss. I’m not sure there is an emotion stronger than pain and joy mingled together. And it is such a common one in parenting.

My prayer is that as he grows more independent physically, spiritual growth becomes increasingly evident. That he will one day take up this faith his father and I have been impressing upon him and say

“Mom, Dad.  Let go. I own this now.”

And I will let go; hard as that may be. And I will watch him become his own person. And I will be grateful for the feeling of joy and pain mixed, because with deep love comes deep emotion.

As I watch him go and grow, I will continually pray that the joy of being on the right path, feet on the pedals cruising along without my help, will outweigh the bumps in the road that try to knock him off course.

What about you? Is your child asking you to let go? Maybe you too need to peel your clenched fist off the seat of his bicycle and let him navigate the trail on his own. Go ahead and try it. Just don’t be surprised when tears fog up your sunglasses.

2 Timothy 3:14-15 But as for you, continue in what you have learned and have firmly believed, knowing from whom you learned it and how from childhood you have been acquainted with the sacred writings, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus.

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Whiteboard Wednesday Guest Post @ Ironic Mom

by KimHarms 0 Comments

To those of you whose exposure to male children is minimal and/or whose faces turn varying shades of pink at the mention of certain body parts, please consider this a caution. You may not want to read my guest post at Ironic Mom today.

It is not my typical blog post, but it is a true story plucked right out of my everyday life. One of those stories generally reserved  for my “mommy-soul-mate” Marti. The friend God knew I needed long before I did. Between our combined six male children, we have some tales you probably wouldn’t believe if we told you. So we’ll keep them to ourselves. 😉  (Well, except for this one.)

When this little conversation happened with Lewis just weeks before I was up for my Whiteboard Wednesday post, it was a no-brainer. I chucked my other idea and went for it (even though I knew it would make some people who know me uncomfortable).

You may not know who Ironic Mom is, and I am happy to have the opportunity to introduce you to her. Basically, she writes hilarious stories about her life; many of which revolve around her children. Her book Don’t Lick the Minivan had me close to tears more than once. She’s not afraid to tell it like it is. She finds hilarity in situations that would make some moms throw in the towel and then writes about them with creatively fashioned prose. She’s not afraid to share her mistakes so others can both laugh and take comfort in the fact that they are not alone. She is like a quirky combination of a number of my favorite people.

Maybe that’s why I like her so much. Maybe you’ll like her too. Or maybe you won’t. You should at least give her a try. She just might make you giggle.

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