Basics, Memories

Process Your Moments: Part 2

June 5th, 2022
Mollie T. Cox

We move on and don’t process. Take in moments and don’t move on.

Deena Kastor, Bronze Medalist, 2004 Olympics

My fractured knee, meniscus tear, and Baker’s cyst made my plans to hike favorite trails in the Shenandoah National Park seem not only ambitious, but also foolish. While waiting for lunch the first day, I fell off a sidewalk and sprained my ankle. With determination, a carbon knee brace, and a makeshift ankle brace, my husband and I continued with our agenda.

What happened? An easy, one-mile hike that usually took seventeen minutes took over an hour. My husband and I sat longer than we walked. Our slow pace continued the following days.

The trail became our destination instead of an overlook or a waterfall or the completion of a trail’s loop.

We asked park rangers questions. We watched butterflies. We attempted to identify bird songs. We watched a doe chase—and then nurse—her fawn.

We studied trees and gave them suitable names.

We compared wildflowers.

Because of my injuries, we took in our moments. We processed. We savored. I declared our four days the best of our forty years of hiking

Do you have time to process?

See Here for Part 1.

Homeschooling

Let’s Celebrate!

May 29th, 2022
Mollie T. Cox

Homeschoolers celebrate high school graduation in style, and our family followed that tradition.

Unfortunately, we didn’t celebrate other milestones that traditional schools celebrated. Along the way, I learned.

At one annual portfolio review of my boys’ work, my reviewer—who later became my supervisor and dear friend—gave me a Lenox plate. “You are my Homeschool Teacher of the Year,” she said. “It’s not fair that homeschool teachers are not recognized.” My husband agreed and took the family to dinner that night.  I have vivid memories of that occasion.

I should have been spurred on to celebrate more of my sons’ achievements. I wasn’t.  I continued to lag in celebrating.

A couple of years later, a phone call from my brother motivated me.  He was headed to my niece’s end-of-the-school-year award ceremony. She was being recognized. I hung up the phone, ordered a cake, and bought three gift certificates from the local bookstore. My husband made certificates for the areas in which the boys had improved the most. We partied a few nights later, something we should have done much sooner.

June is a great month to celebrate our students’ work and progress.

Celebrating?

Family, Friendship, Parenting

Admonish. Encourage. Help.

May 22nd, 2022
Mollie T. Cox

And we urge you, brothers, admonish the idle, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with them all.

1 Thessalonians 5:14

When I recently re-read this verse, I remembered a sermon Dr. Bill Clark from the Lay Counselor Institute had preached over a decade ago. Admonish. Encourage. Help. He gave an example where he had to employ all three with a client, but usually only one was needed.

I was struck how my “go to” response of helping was not always the best choice. Occasionally, my response was random.

I had admonished the fainthearted when I should have encouraged. I had helped the idle when I should have admonished. I had encouraged the weak when I should have helped.

The only “go to” response in this scripture is “Be patient with them all,” rarely my first choice.

Do you naturally admonish, encourage, or help?

Decisions

Overwhelmed? Start with One

May 15th, 2022
Mollie T. Cox

If dandelions were hard to grow, they would be most welcome on any lawn.

Andrew Mason

As a child, I thought clover was not only a flower, but the best kind. White clover covered our backyard, sprang back after each mowing, and made the best bracelets and necklaces. While purple clover was not best for adornment, its scarcity gave it value. It only grew near our back porch and chain-link fence.

Nostalgic Discovery in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania June 2020

My husband thought otherwise. While my family mowed weeds, his family either pulled or poisoned them—including clover.

Along the way, I agreed that perhaps weeds needed more than mowing. The task was overwhelming so a few years ago, I chose one focus. Dandelions. I pulled dandelions each spring morning until our yard was almost dandelion free in 2020. That year, I joined my husband in pulling wild onions—but never clover.

It is obvious that any goal requires a first step. However, I marveled at the evidence of what I had accomplished in my yard with a small, singular focus for a few months each spring.

Any “weeds” in your “yard”?

PS Organic dandelions are nutritious.

Parenting, Stories I Share

The Stories I Share: The Kittens

May 8th, 2022
Mollie T. Cox

The view from my bedroom window was a vintage, decrepit sedan. (See Here) I ignored the eyesore. My middle son didn’t.

One spring, he became fixated on the car. He would watch for the longest minutes, run off to play, and then, quickly return. I don’t remember if I discovered his secret, or he revealed it. Newborn kittens lived under the car, and my toddler loved watching them and their attentive mother.

Unfortunately, that same spring our city was deluged with rain—the kind where relatives call and check on you. We were fine. I was convinced the kittens weren’t, even though I couldn’t see through the rain.  The neighborhood yards that weren’t flooded were drenched. Water whooshed under our pier and beam house.

Once the storm passed, my one-year-old resumed his watch. No kittens.

“The kittens aren’t coming back,” I gently told him.

He wouldn’t leave his post even though there were no kittens—day after day—until one day the kittens appeared. Somehow the mother cat had enough storm warning to carry her brood to higher ground. She obviously liked the car as much as my son and—once safe—had carried them back.

Persevering in hope?