My dad was a giant child and my mom is so young at heart I can’t picture her any other way than as a 21 year-old. Don’t get me wrong, I was raised by extremely mature adults, but when it came to me and my sister, our joy was their joy and the two of us giggling and smiling seemed to be their life’s pursuit. In our home, children were heard AND seen and included in pretty much everything. What was fun for us was fun for my parents and if something felt boring, we MADE it fun. We traveled a lot growing up and no one can make a canceled flight or unexpected overnight layover in St. Louis more fun than my mom. One of my favorite memories of my dad was when we took a trip to Disneyworld and there were tons of cars stopped and waiting in the Florida heat for the gates to open. People were getting quite cranky and patience was wearing thin. So, my dad decided to turn up the car radio super loud, dance on top of the car and basically start a huge block party.

Fun. My family believed in it. And sadly, I feel it is a lost art.

You’re probably tired of hearing me say this but, I love being a mom. Even in the depths of bottles and diapers and double strollers, I have always loved it. Yes, it was tough at times when they were babies, but I was exactly where I wanted to be doing exactly what I was doing. I am never happier now than when I’m lugging what feels like 8 bleacher chairs, two coolers, an umbrella and blankets to softball or football games. It’s exactly what I signed on for. I’m a mom.

I say that fun is a lost art because sometimes you have to create it. Sometimes it magically flows through and just happens, but many times it takes a conscious effort or decision on our part. As parents, it’s so easy to get caught up in the daily trudge that we forget to have fun with our kids. Sometimes, all it takes is an attitude adjustment. I have found myself many times feeling tired or frustrated or just plain cranky and I see myself taking that out on my kids. But when I shift my thinking and focus on them, we can be laughing within minutes. It’s therapeutic, really.

I’ve heard moms tell me they’re tired of being moms. They’re the disciplinarian, the nurse, the taxi driver and for some who homeschool, the teacher. We wear many hats as moms. My question to them is always, “When was the last time you just kicked back and had fun with your kids?” Sadly, many of them give me a blank stare. They don’t even remember the last time, or feel they’ve never had fun with their children. That breaks my heart.

What I love about fun is you get to define it. Fun for us has changed over the years as the kids have gotten older. When they were little, it was building a Thomas train track across the living room with my son. Now it’s learning how to build model airplanes with him. For my daughter, it was coloring or painting. We still paint together now, but she also likes to read joke books out loud so we can all crack up together. My other son likes board games. Mainly because he beats me every time. But how we tease each other is all part of the fun.

It’s even fun for me to watch my kids do what they love. I had to train my husband in this – he didn’t grow up in the same kind of home as I did. When the kids were small I would say something like, “Let’s go to the train museum today.” He would say, “That doesn’t sound fun at all.” Well, maybe not for him at the time. I had to teach him that to watch our children squeal and laugh and get excited over toy trains was also our joy. He gets it now. I can’t say that he’ll ever admit he loves Disneyland since he hates crowds, but he does love to watch his family having a blast. Many family laugh sessions have happened while waiting in line for the Buzz Lightyear ride.

A friend once told me, “Parenting isn’t something you do, it’s a relationship.” I have never forgotten that. I have lots of fun in all my other relationships in my life: with my husband, my friends. Why should my relationship with my children be any different?

It’s been nice to sit and write this. But I need to go – my kids and fun times are waiting…

When was the last time you had fun with your kids? What are some of the things you enjoy doing with them or watch them enjoy doing?

I took my kids to see The Hunger Games today. (My daughter is 14 and my twin boys are almost 12.) I read the books and one of my sons has read the first book.

I am so completely fascinated by this story. A dystopian society ruled completely by fear with children being the sacrifice. Primitive districts not far from wealthy ones and reality TV used to control.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am not a fan of “reality” TV. I never have been. For me, stories are meant to take my mind to another world, one that might be similar to my own, but was conjured up in a creative mind to either entertain or allow escape for a while. And I think our society’s version of “reality” has gotten sorely messed up. Everyone wants their 15 minutes of fame. We now have moms abusing their children to get on Dr. Phil. (Don’t even get me started on Snooki supposedly writing a book.) We are a society that ravenously feeds on bad news and stupidity, real or otherwise.

And the “reality” shows are all controlled by producers and directors, not unlike the character of Seneca, who simply want better ratings (and to keep the powers that be happy). They control it. They control the games. In The Hunger Games, everyone thinks they know Katniss. That she is destined to lead them from their imprisonment. When in truth, she is a teenage girl simply trying to survive and keep her family alive. In the end, President Snow’s plans backfire on him. The story he tries to create turns on him. I wonder if that too will happen for us? Will our version of “reality” turn into something reckless and dangerous?

After we left the theater, one of my boys was highly bothered by a society that would literally sacrifice their children for sport. He couldn’t imagine a world where people – adults – would be that awful. I understand his feelings.

As far as the movie goes, the filmmakers did a fantastic job. They stayed true to the book where you are both fascinated and horrified at the situation at the same time.

The film is perfectly cast with Woody Harrelson playing Haymitch and I couldn’t love Lenny Kravitz more as Cinna. But Jennifer Lawrence deserves major kudos as Katniss Everdeen. The scene where she is headed into the Games and is saying goodbye to Cinna had me shaking right along with her and trying valiantly not to cry. (I was also grateful that the climactic scene toward the end with the dogs was portrayed in a much less violent and disturbing manner than the book. I was fine with it being in the book, I just thought the idea of it on screen would be a bit much.)

The Hunger Games trilogy is in my top five of favorite books. I love the constant struggle Suzanne Collins brings to the story of Katniss always feeling under the control of someone else and discovering who she really is in the midst of it all. She is an amazing mix of naivety, fear, love and determination. The film, and Jennifer Lawrence, did a great job of conveying all of that. I can’t wait to see the next two.

It’s probably not a good idea to blog when you’re not feeling well, but here I am. I’ve got a sinus infection and the world is tough to take when you feel like there’s a balloon blown up inside your face. However…

I’ll be honest, I’ve been discouraged lately. Writing is a tough business. And when I say business, I mean truly the business side of it. I read a lot of advice about writing and there’s quite a bit said about writing because you love it, because you’re called by God to do so, because you’d wilt and die if you didn’t – and don’t think about publication or an audience per say all the time. Write because it’s what’s in your heart, in your soul. But that’s not as easy as it sounds. When you are trying to get published, sitting down and working on a manuscript can come from the heart, but to push your head out of the way feels close to impossible. How can you not think of whether an editor or reader will like it or not? Especially when you’ve had rejections and the negative voices swirl around in your mind as you work.

I’ve noticed a trend lately. I love being on Facebook and Twitter. I really do. But I’ve discovered that I can’t read them on days when I am not hammering away at my computer on a manuscript. If I do so, it seems as if the entire world is out there working and writing 24/7. Truly. I read tweets and posts at crazy hours of the night and think, “Is it really something we have to do ALL THE TIME to get published?” I feel like I’m in a race and I am always behind. As I read tweets and posts, it’s like I can see these people at their desks, their fingers tapping away at all hours and they never leave. Is it really all they do? Does no one ever take a break to read or journal or go for a walk or paint? I have to do those things or I lose touch with my creativity. Am I the only one?

I’m a wife and a mom and I love being both. I’m one of those that wanted to grow up and get married and have a family. I love all that it brings to my life and all that I get to give because of it. And being a wife and a mom takes time, effort and energy. I love writing too. But I fear that if I try to keep up with the tweets and posts, I’ll miss out on the hugs, the laughs, the tears, the events and the life. I’m not saying I can’t do both, but I don’t like feeling that I won’t make it as a writer because I want those things too.

So here’s my current stance. I am a writer who would love to have a book published. I will put my butt in the chair and do what it takes to get words on the page and get the job done. I will do it with heart and soul and I will wait on God’s timing. But I won’t do it at the expense of missing out on living life. If I did, I wouldn’t have a single thing to write about anyway.

I read a book the other day on parenting boys. It was pretty good, but I can’t say it had any advice I haven’t already read in terms of ways to raise a Bible reading, Jesus loving, upstanding citizen of a person.

However, I think I’m changing. I didn’t seem to soak up the advice like I used to. One idea in particular stuck with me and I’ve rolled it around in my head for a few days. (A sure sign it will end up being blogged about.) The author talked about how her son will one day grow up and decide for himself what he wants to do such as: listen to secular music, forget to ask friends to church, someday say a bad word and basically live a life of sin.

I read today that sin is defined as “to fall short of an ideal or ‘miss the mark.’’ (To read a fantastic blog on sin, see http://soberboots.com/2012/03/16/whensinisafiveletterword/) All of us miss the mark. No one is exempt. So are we asking our kids to attain something we can’t? I realize I recently blogged about instilling in my children the truth that they have what it takes to raise the bar and make good choices, but here I’m talking about being authentic. I sin every day, therefore I need a Savior, and yet am I asking my kids to be perfect?

It got me thinking about bubble parenting versus umbrella parenting. If I raise my kids in a bubble where they only know Christian music, books, friends, etc. will they be truly prepared for what they face when they are adults living on their own? Or am I raising them under an umbrella of wisdom and God’s truth that I can prayerfully pass onto them when they leave my nest and build their own?

I will own the fact that I was much more conservative about things when my kids were younger and I still believe that’s a good idea. But now that my kids are tweens and teenagers, the game has changed. Is my value system or my desire for them to love Jesus above all any different? Nope. But my way of relating to them and teaching them to be “in the world and not of it” has changed.

I love movies and music and pop culture. I always have. And I don’t see those being bad things for my teenage children. A dear friend of mine once said that parenting should be a running dialogue with your children about life. My husband and I decided that as our kids get older, if they were going to be exposed to certain things, we wanted it to be when they were under our roof and we were right alongside them. Now, this doesn’t mean we rent R-rated movies on the weekend and discuss them. Rather, it means that when they hear lyrics in a song that aren’t appropriate, we talk about why they aren’t appropriate and what the Bible has to say about it. In doing this over the years, they will now even change the station on their own, look at me and say, “Mom, that one’s totally inappropriate.” Okay. Instead of making them afraid of things or curious, we’ve made them aware and able to weigh for themselves the things of this world against the Word of God.

I am in no way trying got judge how anyone else parents. I believe we all have to decide based on our own beliefs and kid’s personalities. What works for one child doesn’t always work for another. My daughter is on Facebook. She’s hardly ever on it and her posts are cute and benign. One of my son’s wants to be on it, however, and I hate to break it to him, but it’s not going to happen for a while. He will be a dramatic hot mess and I’m going to avoid that as long as I possibly can. They are two drastically different people and my husband and I must deal with them as the individuals they are.

I went to a private Christian school my entire life and I find it funny when people say that kids who do so are simply growing up in a bubble. No matter where kids go to school or the community they live in, I firmly believe the bubble or umbrella is based on the parents. I was exposed to things at school and on the weekends that challenged me to make decisions based on my faith, but thankfully, I surrounded myself with friends who had the same value system as me. My mom always encouraged me to have a core group of friends who are Jesus followers so that when I have to face the world, I have people to keep me grounded.

As parents, we want our kid’s lives to be as comfortable as possible. But we do them a great disservice when we protect them too much from life. My friend Joanne calls it, “stealing their testimony.” I love that.

It’s so incredibly painful to watch my children make mistakes, and yet if I don’t, they won’t learn. I can hold the umbrella over them to keep them from the rain, but they will splash in puddles and step out from under it from time to time. Prayerfully, they will claim God’s truth as their own, pop up their own umbrella and move forward on their journey. And hopefully someday hold it over their children.

I started working as a book reviewer about fifteen years ago. It was for a publishing house that puts out a magazine/catalog to sell their books. I was a demographic – a twenty-something female who loves fiction and is a Christian. I wrote my reviews to help them decide where to place the books in their catalog.

It was a dream job for me. With three babies at home, I was able to read a lot and the reviews kept me writing consistently. I was sent books by known authors and some by newer authors.

I confess, I got tired of reading historical stories based in the late 1800’s. This seemed to be a time where no one had sex, smoked, drank and always went to church – in other words, a perfect setting for a Christian story. Don’t get me wrong. I read some great stuff and I enjoy historical fiction, but the variety was lacking to say the least. I confess that I was discouraged by the limited choices. I wanted a story to escape to other places, but I also wanted to relate to what the characters were going through. Even books set in modern times didn’t have the same kind of people I came across in my church or world.

I still review books. But now I do it for a web-site (www.radiantlit.com) where we review mostly Christian books but some secular ones as well. In the years I’ve been doing this, I’m happy to say, Christian fiction has come a long way. Lately, I have found myself gravitating toward actually wanting to read more Christian fiction over anything mainstream. And I think the main reason is that we as Christians are starting to think outside the box. We’re making characters in the story more real, more authentic. Christian fiction doesn’t seem as afraid anymore to step on toes, but rather be genuine. And I, for one, am a reader and writer excited to see where that leads.

So now I confess that I am no longer skeptical but hopeful. There are many great books out there written by Christian authors. I’m grateful to now have more options and I’m excited to read as many as possible.

My husband and I agreed to give up sweets for Lent. Mainly dessert type items. Last night, I asked him if a certain item was considered a “sweet.” He looked at me and said, “Babe, that’s between you and God.”

I read a lot. Books, magazines, blogs – anything with words, really. And many of the things lately have appropriately had to do with Lent. I’ve also read Facebook posts and talked with neighbors and friends about it. And I’m noticing a trend. There seems to be a sometimes subtle, and sometimes not so subtle, attitude towards making Lent a competition. One person says, “I gave up soda for Lent,” while the next person says, “Oh, well I gave up smoking.” Based on responses from the group, giving up smoking seems much harder, so that guy wins. But wins what?

We didn’t observe Lent when I was growing up. It’s only been in the past 10 years or so that my family has decided to do so. And I’ve loved learning about it. I love the thought of sacrificing something in order to bring my mind over and over again to the sacrifice Jesus made for me on the cross. And I’ve even read that adding something to your life can be a part of Lent. Whether it be reading the Bible more each day or doing a prayer walk through your neighborhood. As long as what you do brings you closer to God. This Lent season I joined an on-line group called ACTS that challenges you each week to do something that’s sacrificial. This past week was to remove the things around you in your environment that discourage you and put things up that inspire you to be all that God designed you to be. I love that! Sacrifice your norm and think outside the box for Christ.

I’ll be honest, I have a hard time admitting to others what I gave up for Lent because I don’t want to be judged by it. I didn’t give up sweets because I wanted to go on a diet. I don’t believe in diets. I gave up sweets because food can be something for me personally that comes in between my relationship with God. I use it to fill a void instead of talking with Him or growing closer to Him by working through what that void might be. Two years ago I gave up worry and last year I gave up guilt. Both of those things were huge obstacles in my faith journey.

I hope and pray that as you go through this season of Lent, your heart and soul are drawn closer to God through what you gave up or what you added to your life. And may we all be able to keep the naysayers away, encouraging one another in whatever we chose to bring us closer to Christ. Like my husband said, it’s between you and God.

My immediate thought when I heard the news was of her daughter. She is only 19 years old and still so young, still so much in need of having her mother around.

For whatever reason, thoughts of other front-page stories crossed my mind. A recent article about Demi Moore talks of how her three daughters are doing in light of her recent decision to check into rehab. The article said that when they lived in Idaho, the family led a fairly “normal” life with lots of family time and no one in the spotlight. As soon as they moved to L.A., two of the girls became interested in acting and Demi began going out and partying with her girls. Granted, much of this kind of information is from a “source close to the family” and I usually take that with a grain of salt. But it doesn’t take a rocket science to figure out that some of the change in lifestyle hasn’t helped the situation.

Then there’s Heather Locklear. She was pictured recently with her 14 year-old daughter just before Heather was arrested and sent to rehab.

I am in no way placing judgment on these women, but I couldn’t stop thinking about these girls. Young women who look up to their mothers and sadly are (or were) being forced to become caretakers instead of the ones being cared for.

I could sit here and talk about how the Hollywood lifestyle has gotten out of control and how these young girls are given the opportunity to get involved in drugs and other things because of the social scene they are in. And that’s probably partially true, but I see in their mothers something I fear for myself: insecurity.

Our society on the whole is obsessed with looks. Beauty is defined only by what is seen with the eye, not what is seen in the soul. In every single article I read about Whitney, Demi and Heather, their insecurities and how much they worried about their looks, getting older, or not being good enough was featured. It’s obvious that no matter how beautiful or talented they are, their souls are suffering.

And so are their daughters.

As women, what do we deem important in life and are we living that out every day in front of our daughters? Are we being their mothers or are we too busy trying to be their best friends? Are we trying to be who we truly are or what we think society wants us to be? Are we teaching them to respect themselves in how we treat ourselves?

These are questions I ask myself when I read about these women. Am I being the kind of woman I want my daughter to look up to? I sure hope so. It’s not easy being a mom. It’s not easy being a woman these days either. But I want to make sure I do everything I can to find my security in my relationship with Jesus, to see myself as He sees me, and leave what the world has to say about me at the door. That’s what I pray my daughter sees in me. And that’s Who I pray she looks to to see the true beauty of her soul.

Now, I have no intentions of going on and on about him or his football abilities or even his faith, but I must admit, I am fascinated with the media tornado around him that seems to be picking up speed instead of slowing down. I watched a few interviews on YouTube last night and he really just seems like a great guy. A true believer in Jesus not afraid to live out his faith.

In the past week, I’ve had a few conversations with people about our kids’ approaching teen years and the concerns we have. After spinning the various dialogue in my mind for a while, I noticed something. We focused on the negatives. We talked only of what we knew our kids would face, how they would probably choose badly, and how awful it will be instead of how much faith we had in our kids to combat the world’s temptations with their faith. For myself, I started to wonder when I lowered the bar so far. When did I start to fear what would happen WHEN they would fail instead of living confidently knowing they have everything they need to succeed?

I’ve always been an optimistic person. Even to the point of irritating others because I refuse to wallow in negative emotions for too long. And I must admit, at times, this was tough. I found myself questioning who I was because people would tell me I wasn’t being “realistic” about a situation or owning the ugly parts. But I don’t question myself anymore. I serve a God of hope who calls me to live above the junk. Do I have bad days where I feel awful and have to own frustration, disappointment, anger, and fear? Absolutely. But I have learned to talk with God about those feelings and move on. His joy comes with the morning.

I read a great article about how Tebow’s faith shows the ugly truth about what our society has become. We accept and get behind famous people who make horrible choices every day and yet we want the good guy to fail. Because if he doesn’t, then that means there are people out there who rise above the storm and we question our own ability to do so. I mean, no one can be that “good,” right? Is he perfect? Not at all. But he lives by a higher standard that challenges us to do the same. And it scares us.

I think all that Tebow has done is raise the bar. He shows us that someone can live in a world of fame, fortune, and power and still remain true to who he is. Will he make mistakes? Probably. But we all do. The point is not to remain perfect, but to try and live out a love for Jesus in every step of life.

I want my kids to know that I believe they have everything in them to be great. Not great by the world’s standards, but great by heaven’s standards. They can live in the “real” world but not be of it. They have what it takes the raise the bar.

I decided to adopt this idea for myself. During much thought and prayer, the word that kept coming to mind was surrender. I’ll be honest. At first, this word scared me – a lot. I have no idea why it popped into my head. It was just suddenly there. I mentally ran from it, but it still kept rearing it’s ugly head.

I am a self-professed control freak. The idea of surrendering anything causes me to panic and break out into a sweat. I am super organized, always on time, and in control of my world. My immediate thought was that to surrender meant to lose control. I guess on many levels, that is exactly what it means.

However, as I continued to roll the word over and over in my mind, I thought of how it would fit into my life and the things I want to accomplish this coming year. As a believer in Jesus, I imagined surrendering my writing to Him, my fears, my worries, my health, and my insecurities – all of the things that fit under the umbrella of what I would work on or try to change in the New Year. The more I began to say the word in accordance with these ideas, the more relaxed and peaceful I became. The thought of not clinging to everything in my clasped fist sounded appealing, if not liberating.

So surrender it is. I am going to try this New Year to surrender all things to an Almighty, all-knowing God who loves me. I feel better already just thinking about it.

It’s almost midnight and I am the only one still awake. The kids’ whispering stopped awhile ago and is now replaced with steady breathing and soft snores. Music to a mother’s ears. I sit and watch the blinking of the Christmas lights and the gifts from Santa that I carefully placed near the fireplace only moments ago.

I remember when I was a little girl, my grandparents would spend the night on Christmas Eve and my Nanny would always sleep in my room with me. I could hear the jingle bells from Santa’s sleigh ring over our rooftop and I would try to get a glimpse of him out my window. She would gently pull me back to bed and remind me that if I saw Santa, he wouldn’t be able to come down and deliver presents. I would lay with the covers up to my chin, eyes wide while picturing Santa in my living room placing pretty wrapped packages around the tree for me and my sister.

Years later my mom told me that my dad would climb a ladder with a string of jingle bells and ring them while on our roof. So in many ways, my Nanny was right – if I saw “Santa” Christmas wouldn’t quite happen the way I wanted it to. I now think of my dad crawling up onto our roof in the middle of the night in his pajamas to ring jingle bells and I laugh. How much he loved us. And I now sit here as a parent, tip-toeing around to lay presents where my kids will happily find them in the morning. The magic so precious, so wonderful, and the memories so full and lasting. I can only pray that one day my children will also be sitting up around midnight, playing “Santa” and passing on the joy and magic I still cherish.