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The older I get, the more similarities I see across generations. Not the cultural stuff. That’s all pretty different. But the real stuff. Stuff like believing that we all have purpose, that our dreams aren’t just vain imaginings, and that our being here really matters.

We all get messed with sometimes, though. Something can change–in a big or small way–and we can be left feeling smothered by discouragement. The imperfect world we live in houses trials and triumphs. Tears and laughter. Life keeps moving and we get to choose what we think about all the changes that come our way.

Sometimes we choose the change and celebrate. Other times, it chooses us and we have to search for the good. In reality, we have been practicing for these changes from our earliest days. As a young child, we leave safe and familiar homes for school. We don’t realize that things will never be exactly the same again. The moms, yeah, they know. They go back and forth because their lives will never be exactly the same either.

The “change drill” continues with smaller milestones like double digit birthdays, and bigger ones like graduation. Then there’s moving out on our own, getting married, and becoming a parent. All big changes require leaving something behind. In even the most celebratory, we leave parents, friends, roommates, the single life, or the carefree married life.

And those are the changes we gladly choose. As we get older, they begin to choose us. And sometimes we don’t like them. As much practice as we have had, sometimes it feels like we got whacked from behind. What the heck just happened to my life???

But really, the drill is the same one we have been practicing for years. We have to leave things behind sometimes. And that’s going to have to be ok. This last season brought some big changes, and I had to find ways to stop focusing on what was being left behind. I think whether we’re young or old, when we go through big changes or minor adjustments, a couple things help keep our thoughts right: doing something opposite of how we feel, deciding to never give up, and believing in the power of redemption.

1. Doing something opposite of how we feel. This doesn’t have to be lofty and complicated. It could be simply declaring that love is stronger than anything else. Or that kindness always counts. Or that our seemingly crushed plans are still possible.This past season, I had to find something every day. Some days I got with a friend for a walk or coffee. Some days I lit a candle in a dark space. Some days I headed out to find an inspirational book. Some days I just prayed for grace and trusted tomorrow was a new day.

2. Deciding to never give up. Because it really IS a choice. That doesn’t mean we are always chirpy. It doesn’t mean we never want to give up. It doesn’t mean that we can’t get help. Some days it means declaring, “I can’t see it right now. But if I stay in the game today, I win.”

3. Believing in the power of redemption.  It helps to believe that change can be a valuable and wise teacher. And challenges are opportunities for growth that maybe we wouldn’t have pursued voluntarily. It might take a while to let go, but letting go isn’t the entire point. We have to allow life to teach us so we can move forward freer…freer to give, freer to love, freer to be who we were created to be.

Let’s celebrate all the transitions we get to choose. But let’s note how often we leave something behind as we do. We are practicing for other, maybe more difficult, transitions–learning to trust the process of life. And that will serve us in every season of change we go through.

“In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.” ~Albert Camus

There’s a parenting book I’ve been searching for lately that I can’t seem to find. When I was first pregnant, I read every book out there. I wanted to get it right. Like you could really get pregnancy wrong. Unless you did something really stupid, these babies were going to come and could care less about how many books you read. In fact, those kicks we felt laying in bed reading our books? Yeah, probably them having a good laugh or two.

Once they arrived, we found other books. Sleeping through the night, feeding schedules, temper tantrums, potty training, discipline and more. I had a lot of friends in this with me and, of course, we talked about the books.

When school started, we added new friends. We laughed and cried and shared stories of what worked. And what didn’t. School functions, sporting events, and extracurricular activities put us with people who were going through the same things. Plus there were books.

But now. After the teenage years. Why didn’t anyone tell us that parenting still happens after the teenage years? And that it looks a LOT different than the other years. No one mentioned that support systems and camaraderie were going to drop off the planet when school years end. Just like those early years, we want books. We want to know how to do this.

I would consider writing a book if I could get even one chapter figured out. When there’s a chance, I get together with the friends from those earlier years. We talk about our season of unknowing and try to see if anyone has figured anything out. It helps to know we are not alone.

One day maybe I’ll find the books. But until then, I’ll tell you what I have learned–most of it the hard way and all of it imperfectly. So imperfectly.

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Yeah — if you’re being gut honest here — you don’t really want the cards or the flowers…What you really wanted is to be extraordinarily, obviously, good at this. At this mothering thing. You wanted to be the best at this.

You wanted to be more patient — you wanted to never lose it, to always have it together, to keep calm and that is all, always…You wanted more flashes of wisdom in the heat of the moment when you had no bloody idea what was the best thing to do, [the times] you crawled into bed feeling like you always gets it wrong when everyone else gets it right.

You’d about give your eye teeth and your left arm for more time. More time to get it more right and less wrong. What you really want, desperately, wildly, in spite of everything — is for them to remember the good…. to remember enough of the times you whispered, “I Love You” … to know how hard you really tried.

All you want? Is for them to feel a deep sense of safety, that they are safe to trust people, safe to dream large, safe to believe, safe to try, safe to love large and go fly — and you need to know that you haven’t wrecked that…What every mother wants, her most unspoken need —  is a truckload of Grace. Grace that buries her fears that her faith wasn’t enough, and that her faults were too many….

Grace holds you when everything else falls apart — and whispers that everything is really falling together.  

When life has been challenging, sometimes I just want to go to bed and get out of the game. I want to pretend that my choices don’t matter to anyone else.

But those kinds of choices always matter. Especially if we’re a parent. Or a spouse. Or an employer. Or a friend.

We can read all we want about rising strong, but rising obviously doesn’t happen when we are standing tall.  It happens when we are down. When we are confused. When we are in pain. When we are struggling. It’s harder to recite the platitudes from that position. And even harder to live them.

But we always have a choice in how we orient our attitudes. Sometimes rising means looking someone in the eye and saying, “I don’t know how all this will work out. I can’t see it right now. But I am holding on to the hope that I will move forward.”

The most important lesson we can teach our children, or anyone touched by our lives, is that no one day is the end of the story. I watch those reality TV shows where a mom or dad says they are competing for their children to be proud of them and to know that they can achieve anything if they will just believe and work hard.

And that is great. But I think a more important lesson is that what I am doing now is part of a bigger picture. It’s not about whether I win or lose. It’s about whether I can trust the process of life. A loss might feel bad right now, but I will learn something. It may take a little time to recover because I gave it all I had. But it is not the end of the story.

Resurrection only happens after an event that looks a lot like defeat. It might take a “few days” before that can happen, and we need to get whatever help we need to process our loss, failure, or pain. But we really don’t have the luxury of despair. Our lives are beautifully interwoven with others. And our choices matter more than we might want at that time.

Wholehearted living is about taking responsibility for our lives and being vulnerable and taking risks and making decisions that may not please everyone. But is also about knowing we live in community and wanting to be generous with our lives. I want those who depend on my life to gain strength from it.

My greatest privilege as a wife, mother, friend and mentor is to model a life of rising.  Is it always easy? No. And I don’t always like it. But I don’t have the luxury of choosing anything else. When I fall, my response is incredibly important. Incredibly important people are watching. If I rise, they will rise with me.

You wanna know what it’s like to be a giver? An all-out, hold nothing back, pour out everything you got kind of giver? Go see The Boss.

He has played over 2800 shows for more than 30 years. And he gives as much today as he did when he was just getting started. Maybe even more.

Springsteen is a song writer, a story teller, an anthem maker. His music has resonated with so many because he has been chronicling the sound of a generation. But also because the themes he writes about are more universal than that. “Born to Run,” the song that put him on the charts, was about being young and untethered and running after a dream. But it’s not only about being young.

“It was a record of enormous longing, tremendous losing–that never leaves you. You’re dead when that leaves you…” It’s about taking the next step and not knowing what tomorrow holds. “And so the song continues to speak to that part of you–it transcends your age and continues to speak to that part of you that is both exhilarated and frightened about what tomorrow brings. It’ll always do that, that’s how it was built.”

He obviously sees the songs differently today then when he wrote them.  When he wrote “Independence Day,” it was about unresolved issues with his father. Today he sees the song about adult compromise, something he didn’t understand when he wrote it. But the raw emotion of two people realizing they can no longer maintain their relationship applies to more than just father and son. And the line, “Soon everything we’ve known will just be swept away”  applies to…everything. It’s heart wrenching, and one of my favorite songs.

In between songs Thursday night, he said, “You walk alongside of your own mortality to do your work, to raise your family, to try to do something good.” And for emphasis repeated, “To try and do something good.” Yes. 

In an interview with Rolling Stone magazine, he was asked how he keeps his show fresh considering all the dates and for all the hours he plays. He said, “It’s a matter of: Are you there at the moment? Are you living it?” 

Being present, living it in the moment, giving it everything you have. Those are some things I took away from the Boss last week at Key Arena. This proud-to-be-from-Jersey girl left feeling inspired. And wanting to do all those just a little more. Thank you, Bruce Springsteen, for not just singing songs. But for releasing anthems that remind us of the ties that continue to bind. You did something good that night.

Can we just talk for a moment about our words? I have listened to several podcasts recently by popular authors who discussed harsh criticism left on social media pages and websites. One author said some harsh comments left her wanting to “curl up in the pantry in a fetal position.” Another talked about insecurity, frustration, and coming to terms with criticism. I recently had to deal with my own self-doubt from a comment left on one of my blogposts.

In some ways, everyone would agree that when we put ourselves out there on social media, we leave ourselves vulnerable to criticism. If we can’t handle it, then don’t do it. Fair enough.

But you know, harsh criticism reveals more about the heart of the critic than the one being critiqued. Because our words reveal our hearts. And one quality we easily see is the difference between a generous and a stingy spirit. A stingy spirit cares about itself. There is an underlying assumption that it is better than others. And that it can’t afford grace for them. Somehow, being gracious with others depletes its own worth. So, they resort to harsh words and judgment. And walk away feeling smug and superior.

A generous spirit always has enough to give away. Even if there is something that needs to be addressed, a generous heart is always about building up and encouraging. We might be surprised how much a kind word to a person with over 700,000 followers might mean. We might think someone with that many followers would be immune to the power of words.

But here’s the thing. Behind that blog, behind that post, being that picture, is…a person. A person who practices courage and vulnerability by hitting “publish” every day. We can get comfortable with other’s pages and our own anonymity. And we have the “right” to say what we want. But, what does that reveal about us?

The older I get, the more I realize that every single one of us has a story. Every one of us wants to matter. I think it’s impossible to have a generous spirit without making a difference somewhere. It is being willing to ask the question: In a world filled with broken people, what can I give that might heal one of the broken places? What can I give which will help others know they matter?

When we push our words of grace out toward a broken and hurting world, they create places of rest and healing. Being stingy makes us smaller, but a generous spirit always enlarges us and everyone around us.

I want my words to give courage to someone. I want them to testify to a world filled with grace. Let’s consider how to cultivate a spirit of generosity. Our words are gifts which can help others move forward. Let’s choose them carefully.

There is a parable about a landowner who needed help at harvest. He offered a good wage for a day’s work and hired a number of employees. At the end of the day, he needed more help and hired others. When it came time to be paid, he called in those hired last and paid them the full day’s wage. Those hired first assumed they would get more. They didn’t and went away discontent.

I have always wondered why the employer didn’t pay the full-day workers first. They would have received what was promised and went away happy. They wouldn’t have seen what was given to those hired last. They were set up.

The reality is that this isn’t a parable about unfair labor practices.  It is about hearts. The first workers received exactly what was promised them. They apparently thought it was good enough when they accepted the offer. What made them discontent? They compared what they had to others and decided it wasn’t enough.

Oh, the problems that come when we compare. In this day where everyone’s “blessings” are posted and publicized, we can be like those first hirelings. Social media can set us up for comparison. In the parable, comparison revealed a discontented heart. When we see the blessings of others, do we become discontent with our own scarcity?

“The opposite of scarcity is not abundance. It is simply having enough.” Brene Brown

It’s a good idea to remember: We don’t need to have what others have. We don’t need to do what others are doing. We have enough.