A Love Letter to my Parents

by Leah Dummel

There are a lot of pretty cliché sayings when it comes to parenting. Whether or not you are a parent, I am sure you’ve heard them, so I won’t repeat them here. However, one of these sayings, as a parent, I still daily find hard to comprehend. “When it comes to parenting, the sacrifice is worth the reward”.

Yes! Awesome! The reward! Wait, what? There’s a reward at the end? Because the sacrifice is BIG. Let me be clear, I did not become a parent because I knew there would be a reward at the end. There is no said reward, as far as I was concerned when it came time to make this life changing decision. But, hearing that there was a reward, did not make me mad.

Now that Devin, my husband, and I are in it. Like, REALLY in the thick of parenting; the trenches we like to call it, I just don’t know what this reward will be for all these big heavy sacrifices. I have actually been praying about this lately. Not because I feel I deserve a reward for procreating, but just because parenting has been hard lately, and quite frankly I needed some encouragement. And I believe that God is very clearly saying A) that He doesn’t like cliché sayings like that…which is great, we agree and B) there is no big fat reward when your child turns 18. And everybody’s reward looks different, because we were all created different. Our rewards for parenting well and intentionally and with love and care come quickly, without warning, and are most of the time very small and could easily be missed.

For instance, one of the greatest gifts our oldest son, Declan (3 ½) gives us is affection, because he is not very affectionate by nature. So when he says “mommy, would you like to snuggle me while we watch a show”? I literally drop what I am doing (unless I am holding the baby of course) and go reap the benefits of the sometimes painful seed sowing that is raising a small child. Some children give their parents literal gifts. Some very rich children give their parents houses or boats or something extravagant. And of course there is everything in-between.

I’ve been thinking about my parents a lot lately, and all the big sacrifices they made for me, and continue to make. I hate to admit it, but my thoughts about them are usually triggered from thoughts about myself and my own motherhood journey. But most recently, I have been reflecting on their sacrifice. So, I’d like to give them a little taste of their parenting reward…here on the internet…for anyone and everyone to see.

Dear Dad and Mom,

I want you to know I see you. Yes, I see you physically, but it’s more than that. I feel that finally, as a 29 year old mother, I truly SEE you. I see you when I look at Devin and I raising small children. I see you, mom, in my tired morning reflection after being up with a baby who has night terrors. I see you, dad, as I watch Devin come home from work and instantly drop to the floor to become a human jungle gym for his high energy sons to climb on and be physical with. I see you, mom and dad, when Devin and I finally flop to the couch at 10pm when the children are asleep and the aftermath of 2 small boys under 3 is cleaned up. That’s when we finally have a chance to really say hello to one another. I see how challenging that is on a marriage. I see your sacrifices, I see your teachings, and I see your gifts. And I’d like to tell you exactly how it is that I have come to see you both.

Mom;

• You sacrificed your body; for the 9 months you carried, grew, and nourished me. Then, you sacrificed again, when it came time to nurse me. It’s hard, so hard, but you knew it was the best thing for your newborn daughter so you did it. And then, you made the soul crushing decision to put me on formula so that you could go back to work. Thank you for making that completely selfless decision, because that’s a stinking hard one to make.

• You sacrificed sleep. SO much sleep. There was sleep lost during pregnancy because it’s just so uncomfortable. There was sleep lost for the first 72 hours of my life because labor and delivery; and post-partum testing and hospital visitors and middle of the night blood draws. There was sleep lost all night every night due to a crying infant, which then turns into a toddler having bad dreams, which turns into an elementary aged kid who is too excited to start their Saturday and wakes you at 6am. There was sleep lost from worry and anxiety over your middle schooler’s insecurities and acne and basketball tryouts. There was sleep lost over the gut wrenching fear of your 16 year old operating a motor vehicle, and then having way too serious of a boyfriend so young, and losing friends and coming into faith and moving away to college. And I know you are still losing sleep, because, it never ends.

• You sacrificed your heart and emotions, because I know from the time I could feel, YOU were feeling every ache and pain and joy and celebration and devastation and longing and disappointment and fullness and excitement that I was feeling. I clearly remember you celebrating my highest highs with me and crying with me in my lowest lows (specifically during a major battle with depression in high school where you hovered your body over mine to protect me from the rain, as I was outside weeping into the storm). Because I know, that when you feel those things with and for your children at the end of the day sometimes it feels like there’s nothing left emotionally, whether it be good or bad, to feel for yourself. You’re exhausted from the weight of it all.

• You sacrificed hot meals and drinks, specifically those made by other people. One of the simplest things motherhood has taught me is not to underestimate the true gift that a hot cup of coffee or tea made by somebody else is.

• You sacrificed the stay-at-home-mom dream role in order to go back to work, so we could eat, and so dad didn’t have to bear the entire financial burden of raising a family all on his own.

• You sacrificed your pride. You were always willing to look and act silly. And when your mouthy know it all teenage daughter used spiteful tones and wanted to win arguments, you would back down, because you are so graceful about choosing your battles.

Dad;

• You sacrificed your body too, because it became a literal jungle gym. The safest and most fun kind too, because nothing bad could happen there. No falls, no broken bones, no playground bullying. Only flying and wrestling where I could rest assured my head would land in a safe and loving spot.

• You sacrificed the dream of having a star athlete for a child, one who would follow in your record setting footsteps, because both of your kids loved music. And the feeling of having your unwavering support when I decided to leave the varsity basketball team my sophomore year, still resides in my bones today.

• For all intents and purposes, I know this was never a dream you dreamt out loud to us, but I can only imagine it was laid deep in your heart somewhere.

• You sacrificed sacred alone time with mom, your beloved, your wife. You shared your bed, your time, and your other half. Small children (and big children too for that matter) steal that from husbands, but you gracefully adapted, and did so with great joy.

• You were a constant man in my life. You were able to find this beautiful balance between gentle and doting and tough love and character building. You showed me how much you loved me by your steady consistency of simply just showing up.

• You also, sacrificed your heart. It can’t be easy to watch your daughter’s heart be broken. But you loved and guided me through that heart break and gently and cautiously but trustingly and confidently handed me over to Devin, my husband, who would be the new protector of my heart. And thanks, by the way, for not being that mean distant dad on the porch with a gun. That’s so lame.

Both of you;

• You’ve taught me to share. Not just my toys or my opinions or my faith or the butter (it’s always the butter; pass the butter, more butter please). But you taught me to share the most important people in my life. I had to learn to share you both growing up. I shared mom with my friends and classmates and church family, and I shared dad with teammates and players he was coaching and my female cousins, when they needed a father figure in their lives. I absolutely believe that watching you both give not just to Ian and I, but to other people who needed you so desperately, played such an integral part of preparing me to be a pastor’s wife; because there is lots of sharing my husband in ministry.

• You have taught and continue to teach me how to gracefully allow my children to grow up and grow out and not hinder or deter these experiences, even though it may be hard for me to watch. The older I get the more I see what a gift this trait is, and you both have it.

• You sacrificed date nights, because money was tight and when you work, you desperately want to be with your spouse but you also desperately want to be with your kids; and finding that balance is hard. So like most parents, you mostly chose the kids.

• I understand and appreciate the deep ache a parent feels when thinking about their children. It’s an ache unlike any other. It’s somehow emotional AND physical. It goes deep into your bones and draws you out of bed at all hours of the day (some of us nap when our kids nap, ok?) and night to the bedside of our sleeping children just to smell their hair or whisper one more prayer over them or kiss those stinky little lips.

• You have shown me how to celebrate your children, not just for whom they are, but JUST how they are.

• You sacrificed hobbies, so you could BE with us, not just GIVE to us. As an adult, I know money was tight when we were little. But for what it’s worth, I didn’t know that then. All I knew was the fun, the play, the pretending, the laughs, and most of all, I knew your presence.

I hope you feel this was a reward, hearing that your blood sweat and tears didn’t just go unnoticed but now they are empathized with. I love and respect you both more than words. Thank you for being the type of parents worth looking up to.

Always,
Leah

Until the Final Whistle

Bear with me if you are not a sports fan.  I promise you it’s worth it.

In what was likely the most bizarre play of the college football season and maybe one of the most unbelievable plays of the decade, No. 7 Michigan State took down No. 12 Michigan, 27-23, on the last play of the game, picking up a fumble on a punt that should have been the final play, sealing a win for the underdog Wolverines.

It was talked about all day Saturday and Sunday and likely will be dissected every day this week.  It will be in the highlight reel at the end of the season, Sports Center Top 10, and likely even make an appearance at the annual ESPN sports awards, the ESPYS.

The game for all intensive purposes was over.  Only a few seconds left on the clock.  All that needed to happen was for the Michigan punter to get off the punt, send it down field and let it go out of bounds.  That’s it.  Game over.  And Michigan would claim victory over Michigan State while at the same time ruining their rival’s perfect record.  It was over.

There’s only one problem.  Someone forgot to tell Michigan State it was over.  So instead of walking through another punt – one like all the others in practice or games before – Michigan State played until the final whistle.

In a recent post (you can find it here) I wrote about a couple of jars of marbles that I have at home.  They contain marbles that represent each week in the year for my children.  Each Monday I open the jars and take a marble out and carry them in my pocket all week.  They are a reminder of how important my children are; they also remind me of what should have the most value in my life.

I forgot to mention the jar of marbles I have in my office.  As of this morning, after I removed one for this week, there are 704 marble remaining – one for each week until my preschooler graduates high school and moves on to live a life governed by his decisions instead of mine.

So what does the Michigan vs. Michigan State game have to do with my giant jar of marbles?  Let me tell you.  This week I had the privilege of hearing Josh Shipp speak at a conference.  You may not be familiar with him, but he is a speaker and motivator who wants to help adults understand the power and influence that they can have in the lives of young people.

Josh was a product of the foster system and spent most of his adolescent life getting shipped from one home to the next, causing problems and intentionally trying to get kicked out.  He shared that it got so bad that he kept a notebook, where in it he kept track of how long it took him to get kicked out.  And each time he reached a new home he would see if he could beat his best score.

I would love to share with you more of Josh’s story but what I want to share with you is that even though his foster parents didn’t have a jar of marbles sitting in their office, they had a limited amount of time to make an impact.  They knew that once he graduated and moved on they would no longer have the ability to influence him in the same way – to encourage him and pour into him like they could now.

And although Josh had made up his mind since day one to make his foster parent’s lives a living hell – he was unable to break them.  They continued to show him patience, and kindness and they demonstrated to him that he had value and that he was loved.

At the conference Josh shared a story about how after his foster parents bailed him out of jail during his senior year of High School, his foster dad said to him “Josh, when will you get it through your head, we don’t view you as a problem.  We see you as an opportunity.”  For whatever reason that conversation made a huge impact with Josh.  He called it his turning point.  It was that moment when everything changed. 

So what does Josh’s story have to do with marbles and Michigan vs. Michigan State?  Everything.  You see it was only 26 weeks until Josh would graduate and move out.  If Josh’s parents had a jar of marbles … those 704 marbles would have been down to only 26. 

It would have been easy for them to say that Josh could never change, that he would never care, that he would never make anything of his life.  But they didn’t give up.  They played until the final whistle, just like Michigan State.

You may or may not connect with college football.  You may or may not want to carry marbles around in your pockets, but what I do hope you connect with this idea:

As long as there is time left – you can still make a difference.

I’m not sure what you’re going through with your kids, but remember whatever it is there’s time. 

There’s time to make sure they know they are loved.  There is time to make sure they know how much you care.  There is time to find some help.  There is time to break an addiction or a habit.  There is time to help them find their faith.  There is time to make an impact.  There is time to make a difference.

Just don’t give up. 

Go until the marbles run out.

Keep playing until you hear the final whistle. 

Numbering Our Days: 4 Ways to Make the Most of Every Moment

 If you have children then you know what they say is true.  “Time flies”. 

One day you are holding your bundle of joy in a hospital room, the next you are celebrating a birthday, graduation, or wedding. 


And in those moments when you take the brief opportunity to pause you wonder, “where did the time go?”

The one fleeting thing is this life is time.  You can do many things to gain more of what’s valuable.  You can work harder, dedicate yourself, and sacrifice more.  But the one thing you can’t get more of is time.

It’s limited.  It’s finite.  You have it … and then you don’t.

The struggle is trying to make sure you don’t miss the important moments.  Because once they’re gone, you can never get them back.

I came across Psalm 90:12 a few months ago, and it’s a scripture that has stuck with me and has become a sort of mantra for our family.

“Teach us to number our days, that we may present to You a heart of wisdom.”  (NASB)

“Teach us to number our days” … what a wise request.  This is prayer that we all could get behind and make part of our daily and weekly prayers.   God teach us to make each day count.  God teach us to number our days.

As I have thought more about this verse I’ve been convicted of how much of life I miss – of how many days I’ve forgotten to number and now they are lost … frozen in time.  I am unable to get them back, and so I am motivated to make each day I have with my family, with my ministry, in this life count.

Here are some ideas to help you if you are struggling to number your days:

 

1.              Commit to Reminders

It’s hard for me to remember everything that I want to.  Even in my work life I ask people to e-mail or text me so that I don’t forget.  I have lists upon lists on my desk.  I even use two whiteboards to keep track of all of the plates that I have to spin.  These tools serve as reminders for me at work so why not develop and commit to tools to help me remember more important things.

I’m a very visual person – so our reminders are marbles.  I have a couple of jars of marbles that are very important to me.  The two I have at home represent both of my boys.  In each jar is the same number of marbles as there are weeks until their next birthday.  Each week I take one marble out from each jar to remind myself to number my days.  I carry these marbles in my pocket all week.  Every time I reach in my pocket for my keys, for cash, for a pen … I also touch those marbles and it reminds me of the most important part of my day.

Your reminder doesn’t have to be marbles.  It could be a strategically placed note.  It could be photos it key places.  Whatever it is, I encourage you to find a good reminder for you, and commit to it.  Allow that reminder to be a trigger point for you to number your days.

 

2.              Make Work Wait.

All too often I find myself asking my family to wait because of work.  I convince myself that I’m needed and the deadlines are important and that in the end it’s for them anyways.  But the truth is sometimes work just needs to wait.   The clients will be there in the morning.  The paperwork won’t mind waiting until the next day.  If you want to be a person who is wise and who numbers their days, then somewhere you need to draw a boundary and say to work – “Sorry, you are just going to have to wait.”

 

3.             Become a Hands Free Home

Technology is an important part of our culture.  And technology is awesome.  Cars that drive themselves, paying for things with your cell phone, and Taco Bell delivery … let’s be honest technology is pretty impressive.  But there is a dark side to all of this technology and I think most of us are at least aware of it.

While we think we are using technology to connect with the world in better ways – what we are really doing is disconnecting from the people that matter the most to us.  While we can see what our high school and college buddies had for dinner we forget that our children are sitting across from us at the dinner table waiting for us to be with them.

It seems in an effort to always be connected we always have something in our hands.  I want to challenge you to make your home a “Hands Free Home”.  When you come home set down the phone, iPad, computer and remote.  Find a basket and have everyone put their phones in it until your time as a family is done for the evening.  Take away the distractions and allow your family to enjoy each moment.

 

4.             Appreciate the Beauty of a Moment

Each moment is beautiful, even the mundane moments.  We forget this truth that there is beauty in each and every moment.  We let our mind wander to other things, responsibilities, projects, desires and in the process miss what is happening right in front of us.

Here’s an example:  I love football.  Every little nuance about it is interesting to me from blocking, to play calling to coverages.  I can watch every second of every game on the weekend and just be totally content.  The other day I was watching football, totally engrossed in it when my three-year-old started asking me questions.

“Are those the Chiefs?”  “Are they talking about the Quarterback?”  “Who are the red ones?”  “Why are they wrestling?”  “What are they trying to do?”

If you have ever been around a three-year-old then you understand how these rapid fire questions come at you and you feel like there is no end.  And you feel like every answer you give leads to another dreaded question …. “Why?”. And while my son was hammering me with question after question, I started to get a little flustered.   But then I saw the beauty of the moment.

 

All I wanted to do was watch football.  But then I realized he was getting into it.  He was remembering things we talked about weeks ago.  He wanted to know who to cheer for and who to cheer against.  He wanted to be like daddy and spend time doing what daddy wanted to do.  It was a beautiful moment, maybe the best moment of my weekend.  And I’m so glad I didn’t miss it.

 

Make sure you are capturing the beauty of each moment … you only get a handful of them.  You never know if you will ever get the same chance again.

 

I’m so glad that as a family we have started to number our days.  It’s not an easy thing to do, but I believe it’s totally worth doing.  I feel like we have a new appreciation for life and all of the things that God has blessed us with.  And so I know that I’m going to commit to having marbles in my pockets, making work wait, being a hands free home, and trying to appreciate the beauty of every moment.  It’s my prayer that you will be able to do the same.