You walked into the party

Like you were walking on to a yacht

Your hat strategically dipped below one eye

Your scarf, it was apricot (I never knew that line) 

You had one eye on the mirror...

-Carly Simon

Last night I watched my daughter sit on the couch trying to capture the perfect selfie. She was having a little trouble. What I observed was a pattern. She would cock her head, just so, flashing a brilliant smile and then she'd click. Then she'd check her selfie and grimace, unsatisfied. Then she'd repeat. She grew disturbed. The funny thing is, she pretty much kept doing the same thing, but couldn't understand why the results were the same. 

(...doing the same thing and expecting different results)

Isn't that the definition of insanity or something? 

My older daughter could write the book on selfies. She knows about angles, filters and  natural light. If you're her friend on Instagram, you know she's pretty proud of her selfies, even the old "duck face" ones that I consistently tried to convince her are ridiculous. I think those are gone though, thank goodness. They've been replaced with the "fish gape" face. You can't make this stuff up. 

This... is "fish gaping"

Me? I've never taken one. Well, scratch that. I think I've tried taking a selfie. It's just that if I have, you certainly couldn't prove it. Anytime I have tried,  I've deleted the sucker before anybody else could see it. I only know two angles.  One makes my chin look huge, the other makes my forehead huge...think Megamind.

You think it's my age? 

All I know is that when I was my girl's age, I can't imagine that I would have been a selfie queen then either, even if I'd had the luxury of a phone and those special Snapchat filters. 

When I was their age, I hid from the camera. I think many of us did even if we'd spent two hours mastering Bop magazine worthy hair with the use of Rave Extra Hold Hairspray. What was the psychology of that? 

...I'll tell you. 

Even if we weren't  "selfie stars" or masters at strutting our stuff, many of us were still obsessed with 

  1. The way we looked
  2. The way we perceived others felt about how we looked. 

Did anybody else have a stage where they obsessively "checked themself out" in every mirror and at every. single. window, but dreaded the thought of someone capturing a candid pose of you?  Every year I dreaded school pictures and the day when yearbooks came out. The nonsense. 

  • The constant thinking that you look good and want other people to have the opportunity to be reminded that you look good is unhealthy. (Take that, selfie queens). 
  • The overthinking on your appearance (to the point of having a complex), that you aren't pretty enough/thin enough/youthful enough is unhealthy. 

Where did we get the idea that our appearance (and people's thoughts on it) is of such importance? 

Yeah, I know. The world tells us. But I thought we were smarter than that. The world lies. 

It wishes that we'd waste our time focusing on our own beauty, or the deception that we're not beautiful. It wishes that we'd fret and spend time and money trying to convince others that we're pretty. That way, in our obsession, we're distracted from all the beauty that God has placed in us like purity and unselfishness. We're distracted from the beauty he's placed around us in sunrises, and in people beating cancer and through a weed that (against the odds) pushes its way through the sidewalk.

If insanity is repeating the same mistakes and expecting different results, then I'm teaching my girls to be insane. 

The madness has to stop. 

If we're not content with our own beauty, how can we teach our daughters to be simply delighted in their own?

 Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes {or selfies thereof}. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight. 

1 Peter 3:4

These were the days
We all, in part, want our kids to stay little.  As time passes, we sorrow in our decreasing ability to love and protect in the form of a hug or a bandaid. Magic dims. The stories we told our sons and daughters that  helped them brave "Wild Things" in distant lands now collect dust on some oft-forgotten shelf deep within their hearts. 

We lament the passing of innocence. 

Innocence as we once knew it, died in the Burden house yesterday. And it was completely my doing. 

Rylie, our youngest, was our last link to magical beings. The Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus and to a lesser extent the Easter Bunny, though never formally invited, made their existence known in our house. The Elf on the Shelf, who was initially rather unwelcome, came to us a few years ago after Rylie put her as the one and only item on the Christmas wish list. 

These characters provided our home with years of imagination (in the form of planning and execution), anticipation and spine-tingling joy. More times than not, these added guests were well worth their trouble.

Until two months ago when Rylie, now a fifth grader had questions about the tooth fairy 

Next came a talk, where I went into "truth-telling" with much caution and tenderness. I kept the conversation purposefully guided in  hopes to mercy-kill all magical beings in a single blow. 

Bad news is best administered , I would assume, like vaccinations. Give what you have to give as humanely and quickly as possible. 

I was so clear and intentional (in my mind) that Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Elf on the Shelf would have no doubt that they'd been evicted. I also felt confident that Rylie, even if she was a little sad, would move forward in her more grown-up thinking. 

I was wrong. 

It took only weeks, after the Tooth Fairy died, for Rylie's attention to be turned to Santa.  She told me she couldn't wait for him and "Jingle Belle" to come back; instantly making me realize that she wasn't connecting the dots. 

I walked into her room to find a carefully constructed penthouse (complete with decorative pillows, pets and pet bowls) for "Jingle Belle" when she comes back to visit after Thanksgiving. 

Jingle's Penthouse; In case you're wondering Jingle's slept in Rylie's room last night (in her penthouse)
Then on a shopping trip, came questions about why "Elves" were literally on the "Shelves" in Target. Weren't they supposed to come from the North Pole? (How has she missed them every other year?)

That's when I decided I had to tell her the truth. 

Truths are better lovingly told by parents than by random children, whose words can be less guided by compassion and good intentions. 

I took the coward's way out and wrote her a letter, leaving it on her desk. Before sending her to read it, I told her that yesterday was one of those important days (where growing up is concerned). I instructed her to read the note and then get ready to go on a trip with me. 

With her newfound knowledge that magic can come through you rather than simply for you, we headed to the mall as new partners in "magic-making". 

We chose someone special to make magic for. We shopped, filling the basket. We made a sneaky stop at our friends house and left a gift at her door. 

We did sneak in a little fun for her

It wasn't the most fun day ever, but we survived; her being reminded that she was loved. She was also reminded that a sad heart can be lightened by showing love to another. 

Our kids won't always be little, so we must focus on the job of making sure they're not small. We teach them to join in the larger work of making magic and sharing joy. 

Yesterday was the first day that none of my kids believed in magical beings. I wiped my own misty eyes and then set them on clearer and more important things like 

Teaching  my kids to "value others above themselves," (Philippians 2:3) 

Showing them that it's not only important to be loved, but to show love

That it's not only good to have friends but to be a true friend

That it's not so important that we believe in magic as it is for us to mature to a point of being the magic

Note to reader: Kids are different. Santa wasn't such a big figure in our other two kids' lives. Our other daughter found out about Santa in second grade from a kid at church and our son found out through snooping around for Christmas gifts. I read him a book we had that tells about the real St. Nick. 

Our youngest is our most sensitive and mystical. She tells me now that she'd rather have heard the truth from her friends because she'd rather be hurt by them than me. Goodness. (You win some, you lose some). She did tell me she was glad I wrote her a letter so she could have time to herself, and that she enjoyed the "magic-making" shopping trip. Her sister told me the whole exchange was the corniest thing she'd ever heard. She's always been our skeptic. 

Probably more important than how they find out is what happens after they find out. Then again, this may all soon be a distant memory and not something to tell Dr. Phil about. (Love all the stages.)

Here's a copy of the letter I gave her (and am sharing with her permission)

Everybody loves magic. 

Snow is magic. 

Whipped cream in a can is magic. 

Babies are magic too. You were. You could blink and yawn, sneeze and hiccup without thinking about it, and without being taught when you were born. 

These things probably weren't on your list of "all things magical". 

Books are magical. You get that right? 

When kids usually think of magic they think of things like the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, Santa and the Elf on the Shelf. 

Some of the best memories of childhood come from the magic found in those guys. 

Until you grow into a new age of magic. 

Here's how it works. 

When you're young all the magic happens to you and for you. Kind of like when you were a baby, you were spoon-fed mashed bananas and ice cream. It's all good until you get old enough to hold the spoon (or grab that delicious ice cream cone) yourself. Your parents, in good time, hand over the things you're ready for. 

Not everything you're handed will make you instantly happy; you may even be sad and wish that you could turn back the clock to when you were younger again. 

Today may mark one of those times. 

Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, Elf on the Shelf (and other mysterious friends) are not real beings. They're stories. They're characters used in making magic. 

True magic is made by eager and kind moms and dads and kids who have grown old enough. 

Today is the day when you're handed the keys to magic. This is your commission to be a “Magic Maker”. It's a responsibility that will bring joy to those whom you will make magic for. But even better, you'll come to learn that making magic will bring you happiness that will surprise you. 

Get started. 

Who needs a little magic?

Maybe your sister or brother could use a surprise breakfast in bed. Knock on their door, leave the breakfast and run. How about leaving a gift on your neighbor's porch or writing a note (that you don't sign) and sending it to someone who needs encouragement? Can you get a candy bar to your favorite teacher (or better yet the teacher or custodian nobody does anything for) without them knowing it's from you? 

You can help Jingles pull shenanigans while everybody else is asleep. 

Magic doesn't die if you don't let it. Once magic was for you. Now it lives in you. Share it. 

You were meant to make magic! 

I've decided to start making my bed on Saturdays. Like I just now decided it. Whether or not I stick with it, who knows. 

Some research shows that it can take 21 days to make a habit. Other research says that it can take an average of 66 days. I lean toward the 66 day figure because habits are harder for me to form on account of distraction, impulsivity and my sometimes lack of motivation. 

According to the second figure, it should take me roughly a year and a few months to habitually make my bed on Saturdays. (Do I have to add days if I'm only doing it once a week?)

 I don't regularly make it any other day. Its a rare occasion when I do make the bed; when company's coming that might go in (or walk by) my room. 

I could tell you (at length) the reasons I don't make the bed everyday, but that would make today's point mute. 

Instead, I'll list my "just thought up" reasons for making the bed once a week. 

  • I'll be able to more honestly say "I make my bed sometimes."
  • I can feel accomplished. It's something easy and uncomplicated that I can do (unlike my sometimes difficult and time consuming projects like that chicken suit I made this week, straightening the wheel on the dishwasher rack or shopping for water chesnuts). 
  • It'll make my room look nice and welcoming (on Saturdays).
  • Maybe it will remind me how grateful I am to have a warm bed to sleep in. 
  • It'll be a good example for my kids (who have to make their beds already on Saturdays).
  • It's nice to crawl into a bed that's been made. 
  • I'll be able to make use of those decorative pillows that lay purposeless on the floor. 

What menial job do you usually guiltlessly skip at your house? 
What's something easy you can start doing (that you don't usually do) that has purpose (if even small purpose)?

Do you make your bed? 

I lie down and sleep; I wake again, because the LORD sustains me. Psalm 3:5

Welp. I've been triggered. 
An old student of mine posted a wedding proposal on Facebook that halted my morning routine. 

How was I triggered, you ask? 

The proposal, which was featured on "howheasked.com", was indeed sweet and perfect. A handsome young gentleman named Jacob executed a plan to "pop the question" to his girlfriend, Gracie Hope in a forest. He walked her to a carefully constructed clothesline that held pictures of them throughout their relationship. He had a beautiful engagement ring.

 To top it off he walked her to a picture of her grandfather who had just passed away. He talked about the love and devotion evident in her grandparents marriage, then presented her with a document bearing a reservation for them to be wed on her late grandpa's anniversary. 

Gracie Hope was tan and thin and beautiful. He was the kind of mushy, most girls hope for in a proposal. He even had a romantic speech written up that both made me my roll my eyes and wipe the tears that were coming out of my nose in the form of emotional snot. 
His speech included a bunch of sweet stuff about commitment; how we was going to always hold her and make her feel safe. They were great promises. Then he said something that made me decide I just couldn't keep quiet. 

  "I will pursue you everyday."

That's when I think I was triggered. I wasn't angry or jealous (well maybe a little). I was more concerned. Does this guy know what he's promising?
 I thought about warning him to add a few protective clauses to his "For the Rest of Our Life" speech. Instead I've decided to say a few things to his beautiful fiancé as well as others who are engaged or married. 

Dear Gracie Hope,

What an incredible proposal. I know you're proud, grateful, and excited! 

Your guy gets you. He gets women. We do all want to be pursued on a daily basis. I've been married for twenty-one years and I still like to be sought after. My husband, like the next, does his best to chase after my needs and desires. He makes an effort to put me first (after his relationship with God). In spite of all that, I'm slowly coming to learn that my need to be pursued daily is a lofty request. My husband to whom I so often look to fill that requirement, needs not only some direction, but a whole lot of grace. 

I'm slowly coming to recognize those things which can interfere with a husband's ability to successfully pursue us each day. Interferences include 

  • Kids-with moods, troubles, health issues and their own need to be chased after
  • Schedules- We have to be mindful of the life demands he can't escape; those obligations which refuse to have mercy on his "to-do list"
  • Troubles- in the form of financial stress, work-related problems, health and other stressors
  • His sometimes being so bone-tired that the only thing he can sensibly pursue is his pillow
  • When we're scary moody - This could be because of an argument the two of you have had or a time when your hormones or pre-menopausal tendencies are showing (in which case you might allow him to hide, if only for a bit). 

Note that there will be times when he will also pursue you in a way not according to your idea of what pursual looks like. He may send you flowers when you'd rather have a long talk. He may give in to you when you were really wanting to fight. He may compliment you when you were honestly just looking for pity. 

Don't be afraid to tell him when you need him and exactly how you need him without being demanding. Be understanding when his emotional and physical bank account is running low and he needs time and encouragement of his own. 

Marriage is give and take. Marriage is extending grace when we get it wrong and taking joy in those times we get it right. 

One of the first pictures taken after we got engaged

Don't forget that God is the only true being that has the fortitude, capacity and unselfish love needed to pursue hearts like ours. Pursue God in your marriage and he will help you to more properly pursue one another. 

From what is shown in your video, it appears that the two of you will be happy together.  If names mean anything at all, and I know they do, with a name like Gracie Hope, this has got to be good!

Blessings on your upcoming marriage,

Kristi 

We crowded around the table this morning. My husband Jason gifted us with West kolaches last night as he got back from the Baptist convention. As you can imagine, we were all smiles for breakfast. 

Always fond of a bit of trivia, Hallie, our middle, posed the question 

"What is the average shoe size for women?"

"Seven", I guessed. 

"No.  It's actually size eight to nine", she told us. 

Our youngest, Rylie,  gave a triumphant fist pump toward heaven. 

"Yes! I'm average!", she shouted. 

Like I do dozens of times weekly, I internally shook my head at my kid. She wants to be average. 

She's only eleven, but her foot is two sizes larger than both my fifteen year old's and mine. Even though she was thrilled to be growing at an unreal rate six months ago, she's now under the impression that her size (which could be considered above average) is a terrible thing.  The age of around "eleven" (or maybe it's middle school) teaches that being average is safe. Blending in is best. 

Years ago, when I started my "mom journey" I imagined in my head what my "good kids" would be like. They would be an equal measure of intelligent kind and beautiful; no characteristic out shining another, no characteristic lacking. 

In parenting, as time goes on, I treasure each of my kid's uniqueness. One has a distinct ability to make me laugh, even when I don't want to.   Another has a fierce strength, that I both admire and even try to emulate. My other kid has a gift for making me (and others she comes into contact with) feel most special. They each have their weaknesses too; a place where God's grace teaches them and carries them through. 

I'm grateful that God gave me more than I asked when he created them with dynamic personalities and gifts. I'm thankful he has used them to teach me things I need to be reminded about myself. 

Ephesians 2:10 For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.

Where did my kids ever get the idea that they were meant to be so-so?  (The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.)

I live to be average; to achieve "all things woman" at a mediocre level even though there's knowledge deep within me that I was created for more. Too often I teach (and model for my children) that life is lived according to a common blueprint the world has created. 

Look like this. 

Be like this...

We're each created to be one of a kind. 

It's up to us to identify how we've been uniquely equipped.  Has God given you a voice that you're afraid to use, a platform that you're too busy to serve? 

 May God grant you the courage to desert your goal of being like "the next girl" making space for the special thing God is calling you to do whether it's to support your teenager who's in a particularly difficult rut, standing up for a cause that's on your heart or serving your lonely neighbor using that great gift of relating that God has given you. 

You're not just an average daughter. 


It's also our job to encourage our children in those areas which God has gifted them. Create opportunity for them to use their gifts. 

1 Peter 4:10-11 God has given each of you a gift from his great variety of spiritual gifts. Use them well to serve one another.

Come out of hiding.  Let go of that effort you've been making to blend in. Put down those things you've been made to think you have to do.  You have your own "not-so-average" God-given glass slipper. And it fits. Find it and wear it to God's glory. 

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Sticking with calendar establishment, I feel the duty to write a post on thankfulness. 

My friend Nena and I switch out teaching Sunday school to third and fourth graders. Yesterday she taught and I filled out records (and the kids bellies with donuts). 

It came time for the opening question. 

Is it easy to be thankful?

I was dying to interject. 

"I know this one!!!!"

Sometimes. Yes...

But my final answer would be nope. Being thankful isn't always easy. Not for me anyway. 

I wasn't particularly thankful this morning when a stray cat left a smelly pile of autumn, fruity pebbles-looking poop on our sidewalk as a Monday morning offering. 

I'm not thankful when I get stopped for speeding or when I find a large roach in the middle of the night when I just want to go to the bathroom. 

I don't remember being thankful when I look under my kids' beds or the time when one of my kids just as much as said they hated me. 

I wasn't bubbling with thankfulness recently when I received a medical bill that was much higher than the doctor promised. 

I could go on. 

  • Being thankful for some of our circumstances can feel just plain difficult if not nearly impossible. 

Being thankful can be difficult when we are

  1. Heavy-burdened
  2. Small-minded (that darn cat)
  3. Short-sighted
  • Looking outside, beyond, our circumstances and being thankful is doable. It's even commanded. 

...give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus. 1 Thessalonians 5:18

It doesn't suggest we be thankful for all of our circumstances, just that we be thankful in them. 


I'm thinking of a friend whose husband is my age. He went in to the doctor last weekend for what he thought was a virus. He now has a port set up for chemo treatments as cancer has been found. I doubt she's thankful that he has cancer. But she told me she's thankful for their insurance. She's thankful that he went in for "that virus" and that the cancer was found and is now being aggressively treated. She's thankful for the meals her coworkers have already bombarded them with.  

I'm not thankful that the next two months will drain my energy and bank account. But I'm thankful that we're in a season of giving; a time when there's a more felt spirit of loving one another. 

I'm thankful the stray cat that left that gift this morning is not my cat. (Did I go too far?)

We have much to be thankful for. Our tough circumstances can either be a distraction from being thankful or a reminder to look beyond our pain or the hard (or to a lesser degree, the annoying) thing we're going through. We've ALWAYS a reason to be thankful. 

To be full of thanks is to be full of God. 

We're a saved people. God is always with us. And he's always good. 

What are you going through today that you need holy perspective to see beyond? 

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Update: I'm happy to say I've received a letter from the White House.  It's included at the bottom of the post. But first, lets back up. 

I wrote a letter to Melania Trump a few days after the election declaring a promise to pray for her. As she walked onto the stage for her husband's acceptance speech as president, she clearly looked burdened and anxious even though she wore that bright smile. 
I highly doubt Melania will see my letter. I mainly wanted to express the compassion that I had which increased upon hearing some of the awful things the public has said and further, things that have been done (think death threats and setting Trump dolls on fire) toward the Trump family. 

Some of us haven't been on our best behavior. 

This election has made me ponder two important questions. 

  1. Why do people act so crazy when things don't go their way? 
  2. In past elections, when I haven't gotten my way, has my response been appropriate? 

I was reading a post on Facebook the day after the election where someone had mentioned that we should pray for the Trumps. A lady, who I adore, asked if the same people who are promoting prayer support for the Trumps, prayed for the Obamas. 

Gulp. 

I prayed for them only a handful of times. 

I disagreed with them on many viewpoints and thus, honestly, had little desire to see them succeed. Nevermind that they're human beings with feelings. Forget that they have had the weight of the world on their shoulders. 

They've  needed our prayer just like the Trumps will. 

You see, prayer is hardly ever about whether or not you believe the person your praying for is deserving of prayer. We pray for people because people need prayer. 

I've been convicted. 

So yes, my great idea to stay in prayer for Mrs. Trump when I indeed didn't extend such kindness to Mrs. Obama exposes my late act of grace, if not my hypocrisy. 
It's never too late to try and do better. 

I had a lady comment on my letter to Melania. She asked to see the same nice letter I'd written to Michelle. 

Of course I hadn't written one. 

In my regret and in the spirit of second chances here's what I'd say to Michelle Obama. 


Dear Michelle,

Thank you for dutifully serving our country for eight years as First Lady of the United States. 
Your work through the "Let's Move" program was a needed reminder to get kids off the couch. 

Thank you for your involvement in the "Joining Forces" program supporting military families across the country. 

I have admired the ease with which you speak in front of a crowd. You're confident, something I'm not. 

I certainly haven't  lifted you and your family up in prayer as often as I should have during your stay in the Whitehouse. I know you've needed it. What an enormous amount of pressure you've been under. And I know many people were unkind. 

I pray for the chapter your family is approaching. I pray first, that you will be able to experience rest that is unencumbered by a strangling schedule. 

I pray that you will be able to enjoy a date with your husband without paparazzi. 

I hope that you'll be able to better soak up Sasha's last years at home before she spreads her wings. I know that time must have evaporated with Malia. 

I pray that you'll find more time to pursue those things which you are passionate about and not just be busy completing a list that has been formulated by staff. 

Maybe most important, I pray that you will forgive those of us who were confused. We could have easily supported you in prayer without having to agree with you on the issues that we face as a country. 

Praying bright days are ahead. 

Kindest regards, 

Kristi Burden

17 Comments

I wrote a letter to Melania Trump a few days ago declaring a promise to pray for her. As she walked onto the stage for her husband's acceptance speech as president, she clearly looked burdened and anxious even though she wore that bright smile. 

I highly doubt Melania will see my letter. I mainly wanted to express the compassion that I had that increased upon hearing some of the awful things the public has said and further, things that have been done (think death threats and setting Trump dolls on fire)  toward the Trump family. 

Some of us haven't been on our best behavior. 

This election week has made me ponder two important questions. 

  1. Why do people act so crazy? 
  2. In past elections, when I haven't gotten my way, has my response been appropriate? 

I was reading a post on Facebook the day after the election where someone had mentioned that we should pray for the Trumps. A lady, who I adore, asked if the same people who are promoting prayer support for the Trumps, prayed for the Obamas. 

Gulp. 

I prayed for them maybe twice. 

I disagreed with them on many viewpoints and thus had little desire to see them succeed. Nevermind that they're human beings with feelings.  Forget that they have had the weight of the world on their shoulders. 

They needed our prayer just like the Trumps will. 

You see, prayer is hardly ever about the person your praying for being deserving of the prayer. We pray for people because people need prayer. 

I've been convicted. 

So yes, my great idea to pray for Mrs. Trump when I indeed didn't extend such kindness to Mrs. Obama exposes my late act of grace, if not my hypocrisy. 

It's never too late to try and do better. 

I had a lady comment on my letter to Melania. She asked to see the same nice letter I'd written to Michelle. 

In my regret and in the spirit of second chances here's what I'd say to Michelle Obama. 

Photo Credit: History.com

Dear Michelle,

Thank you for dutifully serving our country for eight years. 

Your work through the "Let's Move" program  was a needed reminder to get kids off the couch. 

Thank you for your involvement in the  "Joining Forces" program helping military families across the country. 

I have admired the ease with which you speak in front of a crowd. You're confident, something I'm not. 

I certainly didn't lift you and your family up in prayer as I should have during your stay in the Whitehouse. I know you needed it. What an enormous amount of pressure you've been under. And I know many people were unkind. 

I pray for the chapter your family is approaching. I pray first, that you will be able to experience rest that is unencumbered by a strangling schedule. 

I pray that you will be able to enjoy  a date with your husband without paparazzi. 

I hope that you'll be able to better soak up Sasha's last years at home before she spreads her wings. I know that time must have evaporated with Malia. 

I pray that you'll find more time to pursue those things which you are passionate about and not just be busy completing a list that has been formulated by staff. 

Maybe most important, I pray that you will forgive those of us who were confused. We could have easily supported you in prayer without having to agree with you. 

Praying bright days are ahead. 

Kindest regards, 

Kristi 

A reformed pray-er

73 Comments

I stayed up Tuesday night to watch the election. As soon as I got home that evening I put on my jogging pants and a t-shirt so I could be glued to the TV in comfort.

As you can guess, intensely fixing your eyes on maps with flashes of red, blue and numbers  isn't all that relaxing. My husband crashed on the couch around eleven. Luckily my son joined my watch party, otherwise I would have been talking to myself about result observations.

I was getting heavy-eyed around 2:30 when my son told me that Pennsylvania had been called. I was revived. I sat up and waited for your husband to make his acceptance speech. I was moved when I saw him swallow the lump in his throat. I saw your tired son walk out standing beside his dad. He looks like him.

Then I saw you.

You were beautiful. You smiled. But I couldn't help but think how weighted you looked. Maybe it was because you'd been up, no telling how many hours. Maybe the stress of waiting had taken its toll. It seemed as if the reality of the enormity of the position you'd been granted as First Lady was setting in.  Strangely, I could see myself in you.

You're a wife You're a mom. You're a woman with purpose. And at approximately 3 AM Wednesday morning, you'd landed a near-future residence in the world's biggest fishbowl. I live in a small fishbowl myself. I'm a pastor's wife. And whether real or imagined (probably mostly imagined) I feel my address is often in the court of public opinion. Some people will care about what we say or do without really caring about us. 

I guess we all live in our own fishbowl where we sometimes suspect many of our decisions are weighed unfairly.  (Speaking of decisions, I have a confession to make.) I was a closet voter this election. I felt that my decision would be judged by some without consideration as to my reasons. People can make some wild generalizations based on very little knowledge.

Fishbowl life with kids is tough. I cringe when my kids choose the most public time to do something rude (but totally normal) like interrupt someone or tell someone about a trashy rap song they like. A single action can become who people think they are.

And then there's our husband who lives right in the fishbowl's center. It's easy to feel an overwhelming sense of duty to protect the family from onlookers who

  1. Might try to form an unfair opinion of us through an incomplete picture of who we are
  2. Would try to put us on the shaky position of a pedestal
  3. Just don't like us
Photo Credit- US Weekly

When I saw you standing on stage by your husband, I felt commonality. I also felt an urgent need to pray for you specifically. I'm pretty sure you could use the prayer. Here's what I'm praying.

I'm praying for your marriage. My first thought upon seeing you for the first time announced as First Lady was that this will be an incredibly tough time for you as husband and wife. I know he's already been gone a lot on business, but I read that you stay busy with your son at home. I can imagine how you'll both have exhausting schedules that will constantly steal time, energy and your good mood. I pray you will both be able to spend quality time together and that you will be supportive of one another when the road becomes difficult (as it likely will).

I'm praying for your son and the rest of your family. Unfortunately when I saw Barron, I was reminded of how difficult it must be to be a White House Kid. Anything from appearing unamused to having a particular shaped nose becomes important conversation. I remember how this happened to the Clinton, Bush and Obama girls.  The fact that they're the president's kids makes even the most awful comments fair game. They're just kids, but half of the population wants them to be perfect while the other half wants to make them a laughingstock. I'm praying that your son will be protected, but also that he'll have strength needed in such occasions where he experiences how cruel people can be. I pray that your husband will find the time he needs as dad.

I'm praying for your loneliness. I know you'll be lonely at times. Keeping friends and making friends will be a tricky game. I'm not talking acquaintances, I'm talking good friends; the ones with whom you can share troubles like "how annoying your husband was yesterday" or a health scare- without those troubles going on Facebook, Twitter or to the tabloids (Do people read tabloids anymore?). It will be strange that your husband's position as president of the United States will wrestle with his position to simply be your man. I pray you'll find fulfilling companionship and friendship in those God places around you.

I'm praying that you'll stick to your purpose.  I read an interview you did this summer. One thing I admired about you was how you shamelessly touted your purpose as a mom. You know five, (or is it six?)  languages (for crying out loud) but what you pridefully assume is your job as Barron's mom. You let the public know that being there for him and guiding him through life is your current purpose. I'm praying that you won't cave to the pressure to take up some cause that will take too much time away from your son. He needs you especially now.

I'm praying that you pray. You haven't talked much about your spiritual life. That's ok. I know life will be crazy for the next four years. Whether or not you open up about your spiritual life, I hope you'll pray. I can't imagine how any First Family could survive without it. But then again, how could any of us?  I pray that your walk with God becomes more frequent and intimate. You'll be better for it. So will your husband and family. So will our country.

I don't know you. Only what I've read and that you've been chosen to serve our country as First Lady. What a responsibility. I pray you'll serve with grace and integrity.

Prayerfully,

Just another girl in a fishbowl

I Timothy 2:1-2 - I urge, then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for all people— for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness.




Update:

I had a lady comment on this letter to Melania. She asked to see the same nice letter I'd written to Michelle.

Of course there wasn't one.
In my regret and in the spirit of second chances I've written a letter to Mrs. Obama. You can read it HERE.

It's one day post-election. 

Yep. I'm going there. But just kind of. No worries. I don't think I'll enrage anybody. 

Two o'clock this morning, America likely set a record in numbers of both tears and fist bumps. I understand both. I can relate to the fear, the sorrow, the frustration, the relief and the joy of victory.  

We're passionate people who love our country, or in some cases, who (at least now) hate our country.  We're finding ourselves at odds with people on Facebook, at work and even in our own households. Most of this will die down as do most broken hearts and feelings of hopelessness and despair. Anyway,  I hope so. 

But I hope our passion to seek a better place to grow our families won't be extinguished. I pray that even if the vote went our way, we won't be satisfied, but rather our hopes redirected and united. Both sides want many of the same things. 

It wasn't, nor will it ever be in the cards, for us to elect an earthly leader that fits America's needs perfectly. This election's candidates were so far from the mark. 

Thank goodness we have a pertinent reminder of the qualities we can depend on in a good leader. The twenty-two  verses in the 25th Psalm are full of good leadership attributes, ones we only find consistently in our savior. 

Psalm 25 reminds us that our sovereign is trustworthy (v.2). He's our hope (v.3). He enlightens our path (v. 4-5, 14) He's revelation! (v.4) He is our savior (the ONLY savior) (v.5). Our leader is forgiving and merciful (v.6-7). He's FOR US! (v.7). Our God is good and upright (v. 8). He's loving and faithful (v.10). And remember, he's near! (v.14). He will protect us. (v. 15,20). He's gracious. (v.16) Aren't we thankful? 

He's healer, and oh how we need healing. (v. 17-18) He redeems! (v. 22)

What more could we ask for our nation? 


David also gives us a good reminder. 

  1. Let us not lose hope (v. 3). Trust God. 
  2. May we be teachable. "Show [us] your ways, O LORD", helping us follow them (v. 4)
  3. Be humble, for he guides the humble. (v.9)

America has a true ruler; a sovereign whom we can choose to acknowledge. Not just in this time of change, but daily. If you're a believer, no matter who you supported in this race, you have the opportunity and responsibility to pray and pray hard. 

Pray for our country, for our president and other leaders. Pray for the lost.  We can't deny our need for prayer. Our need for God is what we all have in common. 

Unite us, Lord. 

...we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of the love you have for all God’s people— the faith and love that spring from the hope stored up for you in heaven and about which you have already heard in the true message of the gospel 

Colossians 1:5-6