Author: Mollie T. Cox

Decisions

Simple Solutions

August 16th, 2020
Mollie T. Cox

My husband sang in the church choir Wednesday nights. He loved it. My three-year-old attended a Bible program those nights. He loved it. My 18-month-old was bathed by Mommy instead of Daddy those nights. He despised it—especially the hair washing. The infant was indifferent, but especially demanding with Daddy away. Eventually, I despised Wednesday nights.

The best solution seemed to be ending the Wednesday evening activities after the Christmas program. After all, bath time with Daddy was especially significant to one son. Even more, I didn’t want a challenging evening after being home all day with three young children.

In retrospect, my husband and oldest child leaving their activities was the worst solution. They were important outlets. Bedtime routines could have been simplified. Wednesday baths could have been skipped— at least the hair washing. These solutions never occurred to me until years later. (Although they may have occurred to you as you read.)

Those days, I was too overwhelmed to find another way. What did I wish I had known and learned along the way? No matter how large the challenge, try to find a simple solution before you quit a priority.

Any simple fixes to your challenging situations?

Homeschooling

Think Like A Professional

August 9th, 2020
Mollie T. Cox

Years ago, a teacher in a traditional school did not participate in a Saturday church event. “I teach all week,” she told me on Sunday.

Saturday is my only opportunity for errands and chores.”

Her explanation was my wake-up call to think like a professional. My sons deserved the respect she gave her students. However, I had shortchanged their education to please others. Midweek chores and errands had squeezed out homeschooling lessons in order to attend the time-consuming Saturday event my friend eschewed.

I thought how I would respond if my sons attended a traditional school and math was not taught Thursdays. The teacher had a weekly commitment that hour. Math would continue all summer to compensate.

What if the history teacher had received a phone call from a friend in a crisis? The make-up class was at seven o’clock after dinner. Worse, what if this happened regularly? Art was cancelled because a neighbor needed a ride.

Homeschooling gave me the privilege of being flexible but not to the neglect of my calling.

How are you thinking like a professional?

Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men.

Colossians 3:23 ESV
Friendship, Parenting

Emotional Vulnerability

August 2nd, 2020
Mollie T. Cox

A broken washing machine made me realize that I had friends I would impose on and friends I wouldn’t. (See Dirty Laundry Vulnerability Here.)

After I explained the dirty laundry versus non-dirty laundry friend distinction to a dear prayer partner, she replied, “Same goes with your emotional dirty laundry.” During the rest of our conversation, we referred to several prayer items as “emotional dirty laundry.”

I thought about our conversation as I checked off errands that day. I wanted to be the friend that could accept someone’s emotional dirty laundry, even if I couldn’t make it clean. I wanted my friends to know they were safe with me.

More importantly, I wanted to be the mother whom my children saw as safe to handle their emotional dirty laundry. During most of their childhood and adulthood, they only brought me their physical laundry to sort and clean. Focusing on my to-to list—including physical laundry—created barriers to emotional laundry.

Katie and I have been giving each other our emotional dirty laundry for almost three decades. (CHAP Homeschool Convention 2014)

How is your emotional dirty laundry? Giving? Receiving?

Friendship

Dirty Laundry Vulnerability

July 26th, 2020
Mollie T. Cox

Occasionally, I would realize that I had subconsciously divided friends into categories.  Late one night, my washing machine refused to drain water and forced a new, unexpected division.

I was stuck with towels and flannel nightgowns to wring by hand. The next morning, I asked my neighbor across the street if I could spin the overly wet clothes in her machine. She insisted on drying them as well because she didn’t want me carrying wet clothes home.

Soon, I needed use of a washer.  My temporary friend categories became friends you take your dirty laundry to and those you don’t. No one actually refused because I was careful about whom I asked. Some women I allocated to the second category were long-standing friends.

After a few days of imposing, I found that there were different categories. When I mentioned I was awaiting the delivery of new appliances, women who had been in the “No Dirty Laundry” category earnestly, voluntarily offered their machines. They were more flexible and accommodating than I understood. Later, I realized the true division was whom I was willing to be vulnerable with and whom I wasn’t.

Has vulnerability brought you unexpected help?

Homeschooling, Parenting

They Didn’t Do It All

July 19th, 2020
Mollie T. Cox

My precious grandmother would have been 110 this year. In 1998, I flew to Tennessee to celebrate her 88th birthday. On the plane, I decided to ask a great-aunt how she juggled raising two daughters with church and community responsibilities. I don’t know why I chose Aunt Dottie. I liked her, but we were not close. Maybe because she was kind, cheerful, patient, modest, long-suffering, and—as an empty nester—she had started a successful home business.

My opportunity was short. I remember the exit of the restaurant parking lot where I started the conversation. I remember how much my grandmother and her sisters were looking forward to the take-out fish dinner we were bringing. More intensely, I remember Aunt Dottie’s answer and what it provoked: vindication and regret.

I didn’t take on additional responsibilities,” she said. “None of us did. We didn’t expect that of each other until our children were older.”

I had wrongly accepted the unrealistic expectations of others and myself. Women have come a long way since Aunt Dottie’s child-raising days, but we have also regressed. I wish I had asked sooner.

Great-aunt Dottie and my grandmother (1998)

Do you have an untapped source for advice?