Search

Window Seat Faith

Living by Faith and Enjoying the Journey

My Daughter’s Power Lunch

The Prelude to Lunch

Getting dressed for work is low drama for for me. I always feel like I should probably put more thought or prep into it. But, that  thought passes and I sort of do a fireman thing — grabbing favorites from the closet and jumping into the day. In fact, my shower and overall bathroom time are far more celebrated than my time selecting clothes and accessories. 

I think that’s why I know that I’m really excited about my daughter’s power lunch today. It was TruFund Financial’s Women Crush Wednesday Luncheon, part of a weeklong series of business development and networking events. My daughter helped conceive and coordinate the initiative. I’d been hearing about it since the brainstorm began. 

In the weeks and days leading up to the kick off TruImpact Week, I could relate to my daughter’s building rush. It came with the hat — the life of anyone who plans events, launches marketing campaigns or births anything. I was feeling like my daughter was truly wearing my Marketing hat. 

I didn’t realize how her experience was having an affect on me, until I found that I actually put a lot of thought and prep into what I was going to wear today. It’s not that I don’t go to business functions often or that every given day I dress like I’m in a back office. It’s just that today I was the mom. 

I thought about when my daughter was in daycare, how thrilled I was to receive the recaps of what my daughter had for breakfast, lunch and snacks. I loved to know what she ate, how she enjoyed it and her socialization development. The recaps were the highlight of my day. It was the closest I could get for a bird’s eye view of my daughter’s daycare world.

My mind continued to reel through the years, remembering the classroom pizza and cup cake birthday lunches. I would be up crazy early preparing goodie bags and crazy focused on the logistics for picking up the cupcakes and pizza… There was such a delicate balance between making my daughter feel special and making the teacher’s life hassle-free. It always seemed like while the activity was total feel good for the kids and a scheduled event on the teacher’s calendar, the birthday lunches were one step from the edge with the teacher’s day. 

I decided on a black dress for today, totally going with a classic style. Again, I laughed to myself, thinking of the various Mother’s Day Teas I attended at my daughter’s school. It was always a special day to get dressed up to share the afternoon with the kids. But, I can’t recall how dressed up I got. I sort of recall that I was sort of basic; feeling like it was my day off from work. I would probably wear a denim skirt, feeling compelled to be casual on my day off from work. I may have thought the dress up thing was for stay at home mom’s who maybe didn’t get dressed up every day. Not that I really did, but. No, I guess I remember wear pretty long skirts that had they traditional beautiful mother vibe going on. So, here I was again, trying to figure out what was the look this Mom needed to have for her daughter’s special lunch.

At my age, it wasn’t hard to believe that I could have a daughter working at a financial group where she was starting to have more suit jackets and black clothes on her closet than I was. And it wasn’t hard to believe that she was better at applying make-up and figuring out subway connections than I was. I was going to the luncheon, but tell me again the address and what subway. 

I had on my black dress, it’s an Ann Klein  that I got on sale, over a year ago. At the time, I was certain that this dress would be “The Black Dress” my go to for all sorts of occasions. But, here I was this morning taking the tags off; wearing the dress for the first time. And today seems to be the perfect occasion. When in doubt, where black, when going to your daughter power lunch wear black, when your wardrobe is no longer stylishly conservative, where black. When you’ve got more prints and carefree maxi skirts, pull out the black. And I guess this black dress was waiting for just this very combo of reasons to align for this very occasion.

One last glance in the mirror and I imagined myself stepping into the restaurant, seeing my daughter at reception. Why was I feeling like my mom? Why could I see my head tilted to the side ready to give my daughter a big kissy hug? No, that wouldn’t be the move. I told myself that I would have to be conscious of the social cues and business dynamics at play. Just like when I used to visit her classroom. She could not get out of her seat and run to me, the moment I walked through the door. 

Yet, I couldn’t deny,  this was a huge moment for both of us — my daughter was a professional woman. And I’d graduated — from the Mother’s Day Tea, to Bring Your Mom to Work Day. Yes! I marched out of the house excited about seeing my daughter do her part at her power lunch. 


The Taste of Dessert

I hugged her as soon as I walked in, as soon as I saw her. And I hugged her bosses. I’d heard so much about them and I’ve been so thankful for the way they’ve been pouring into her. I hugged them. We’re they surprised? Yes, I’m sure. Was it appropriate or timely? No, the ground rules I established for myself, in the morning, didn’t show up with me. I had become my mom; who doesn’t need permission to go in for a hug. I was like that Mom that comes into the classroom that thinks mommy status trumps teacher protocol. I was like that for the first few moments when I arrived, but then I quickly sat down. I just wanted to watch her in action. I watched as she treated guests and helped them find seats. I watched as her colleagues interacted with her and they ran the event like well planned basketball moves.  I was the fly on the wall. 

She made a name tag for me, with my title and company. It seemed odd to me and I didn’t want to wear it. I wasn’t concerned about my professional status. I was just Mom for the afternoon. That’s all that I cared to be. 

I got swepted away in the spirit of entrepreneurship. It was a feast of inspiration, insight and empowerment — from her company’s spin to the amazing guest speakers, who shared their professional pearls of wisdom and testimonies. 

In the midst of the sharing, I thought about the richness of the soil my daughter’s career was being cultivated. Only God could do this. Because, she was the girl who was certain she should pursue nursing. When she landed in the opportunity to do a marketing and business development internship, she questioned the open door. It didn’t seem like it was for her.  God is pretty amazing when it comes to the plan and purpose he has for us. Somethings you don’t have to pray for and sometimes He literally places us on our path. 

As sweet as the luncheon’s apple-cobbler-bread pudding, there was a sweet fragrance  of success filled my spirit. As my daughter worked the room, I imagined amazing possibilities for my daughter. I closed my eyes and I was the Mom sitting at the Mother’s Day Tea and she was right by my side. 

Advertisements

A Mother’s Give & Take

I was standing on the train platform, like a best friend saying goodbye after a roller coaster weekend. I could of pulled up, let her out and kept rolling. We could of parked and took a stroll by the river; reaching for one more peaceful moment, before our goodbye. Instead, we parked and stood on a platform that grew increasingly crowded, with each passing moment. 

We spoke quietly, Mother/daughter talk that was interchangeable with BFF talk.  Don’t get it twisted, Best Friends don’t have the answers, neither do moms. Best Friends listen, lift and laugh. 

When moms can’t control the outcome or with all the wisdom and intuition in the world, make things right — they listen, lift and laugh. Sometimes it’s not about a prayer; sometimes it’s not about a scripture. Girl talk is girl talk. 

I watched her get on the train. It was sort of like watching her get on the school bus. Even if she was insecure the moment before it arrived, she got on without skipping a beat. 

We forgot to hug. I usually don’t do this, but I actually walked down the platform, peering into the train window, looking to spot her in a window seat. Before the train could pull away, she was calling. She apologized for not saying goodbye. There was too much life to live, no time for goodbyes. I was happy that she was ready to get on with it. The time we shared listening, lifting and laughing was all that it needed to be. I received as much as I gave. 

I’m standing on the dock, watching the sunset. I imagine that my daughter is riding along the River taking in the same. In spirit, we are both holding on to the last minute. 

Dining Out


I’ve been dining out for the last couple of weeks. That kind of dining out where you’re never alone. That kind of dining out where what you talk about is truly soul food. And the food is imaginative, hearty and so incredibly satisfying. 

I’ve been dining out because a writer has to live. I’ve been dining out because life isn’t a one sided conversation. I’ve been dining out because that’s where life happens. I’ve been dining out, like sitting at the bar having loaded potato skins with extra sour cream and jumping into conversation with the social chemist, the couple sitting on the left side and the old man on the right. I’ve been dining out like at Chill Wine Bar with olive spread and tender flat bread, that you share with the vocalist before she does the second set. 

Dining out, in the spiritual sense where random conversations with colleagues, commuters and cab drivers are so incredible filling and savory, that the taste lingers long after your paths have crossed. Yes, that kind of dining out where what I have to say is not nearly as important as what I hear. 

That kind of dining out where there’s the perfect blend of me and you. That kind of dining out where I can only sense a hint of a pinch of something that I can’t put my finger on it. Soul food that swirls around in your spirit for a while. 

Yes, I’ve been dining out, filling engaeged in whatever life sits down next to me an open seat. I’ve been dining out and not ordering off the menu; asking God to surprise me. I’ve been dining out, without my curser blinking; nothing to document. No phone in hand. 

A writer can’t write if a writer doesn’t live, engage and receive. I’ve been talking more than writing. I’ve been dining big time on soul food and thankful for every moment; every bite; every indulging dose of life and love. 

I probably could sit and write until the cows come home, but it really doesn’t mean anything with out a touch of life.

The Other Side of the Storm

Yesterday I was sitting at the river dock watching my son fish. The eye of the storm was moving in our direction. The tide was kicking up and the wind was fighting with my chair. I sat there taking it in and thought about the storms I’ve walked through on my life journey, especially the challenges that were swirling around my current day to day.

I felt like I could absolutely relate to the physical energy that was whirling around me. I felt like just as I do with my day to day, I could sit quietly and sense the security of God’s unchanging hand. I sat there for a long while, watching my son fish, watching the tide lapping up on the deck. I sat there.

Suddenly, I realized that unlike life’s storms, Mother Nature’s storms can be fierce and unpredictable. I looked the darker clouds and imagined that they could come together in the form of a twister. And although a thunder storm wasn’t in the forecast, the warm weather and cool river could be the perfect combo for a sudden lightening strike. Yes, I acknowledged that God gives us common sense. I got up, grabbed my chair, told my son to pack you. Thankful, that this was a storm that we didn’t have to endure.

From my window seat this morning, I thought about yesterday’s storm. I thought about how beautiful the difference of a day can be. I believe in that beauty. I believe that there a brighter days on the other side of the storm.

Enjoying the Ride

This is the part of the journey where Jesus and I enjoy each other in silence. Sometimes silence can me the most cherished blessing. Peace is indeed a wonderful thing. This is the part of the ride where I sit and enjoy the scenery. I let my mind wonder and processing. Jesus is behind the wheel and I am along for the ride. There’s no urgent mission. There’s no message there’s no now or never leap of faith fork in the road. Perhaps there’s a quick liftturn up ahead, but I’m not trying to look far a heads. I sit next to Jesus, watching the scenery that is directly in front of me. I take an occasional picture, although my heart isn’t really into it. I’ve come to understand that when I have this kind of quiet time with my Constant Companion, it’s about be present in the moment. You can check out some of the pictures I’ve taken over the past few days. Though, trust me — you won’t see what I’ve seen. 

One Lighthouse in a Million

My blog, your blog — we each have a light blinking in a world desperate for light. We each have our own story, our unique voice.

How amazing that somehow, we blink at our own frequency, that has nothing to do with how often we publish or the volumes that we have. We see this when our light connects with person who happens upon a post you’ve written so long ago that you can barely remember what it was about or feel the words in your spirit any more. And the reader receives your writing as if it were fresh fruit plucked from a tree at the peak of the season. Light travels, light transcends time. Light breaks through the darkness and finds those who are seeking.

Imagine a sea filled with a million lighthouses. One might think that there’s no need for so many or that our lights are crisscrossing. But, trust we may never know how many lonely ships are out trying to find their way through the darkness.

You’re voice, your light; keep it on high.

Stuck in the Kitchen

My high school junior, the kid who used to make my mom, husband and I have panic attacks, trying to get him out of the house in time for the bus, was sitting in the kitchen with his backpack way to early to head out for the bus. Yes, this is what happens when playful little kids grow up. I was standing in the kitchen happy to have the few moments with him. I was happy to fully bask is the amazing manifestation of the moment. The moment when I could see that I survived the early days of parenthood.

But, of course, I couldn’t just stand there with a goofy smile. I had to spark conversation. First, I told him I was proud of him. He thanked me. Then I said he really looked cool with his football jersey, sporting for the afternoon game. He thanked me again. Here’s where I pushed it — I asked if he was happy. He said yes. I quickly followed up with and ask too many —what makes you happy? He shut down. He stood up, ready to go. At that point, I guess standing on the corner, on a mild, actually unseasonably warm late September morning, with 5 minutes to spare, wasn’t such a bad option. My flower child, “let’s reach out and touch our feelings” approach was so over the top. The conversation that followed was totally one sided. I shared about what made me happy and babble. He smiled. I apologized for being like that geek kid that manages to get the cool kid trapped in a corner and he blows it with conversation about the sun the moon and stars. I guess I should have talked about the episode of Empire that I sort of watched with him last night. I should have talked about something funny that his siblings shared with me yesterday. Whatever, anyway, at least he knows my intentions were good. At least I had good energy before he left for school…

I don’t, I’m a helpless flower child at heart, as I’m actually hoping that he sends me a text later and tells me what makes him happy.

What’s for Dinner…

Opening up a writing page on my blog spot, is like looking in the fridge and asking, “what should I make for dinner.” 

My blinking curser, like looking in my fridge at 8 PM. Sometimes I have the ingredients and gumption to create the most amazing dinner. So amazing and such a favorite with my kids, that they feel like it’s a Sunday special. 

Other nights, I do a short order cool thing, taking dinner orders from each kid. It’s like flexing my muscles to use whatever is in the fridge to whip up 4 or 5 different dinner meals. On nights like that, I totally feel like God is my prep chef or maybe I’m His. 

Other nights, I’m making it up as I go along, like that time I made pork chops and waffles when the kids were really young. I told them it was my concept of the famous restaurant in Los Angeles, Roscoe’s Chicken & Waffles. They loved the meal and loved hearing about my visit there. 

And of course, there are those nights, when I open the fridge and stand there, totally at a loss. Sometimes it not so much the lack of options. The fridge may literally be loaded with possibilities, yet I can’t my gumption simply isn’t there. It’s as if I used the last of it dashing out of work. 

I would imagine we all have days when it seems the work day drained more than 8 hours worth of energy. I stand with my mind mush and my desire to do any short order moves, falling way short. I close the door. On such occasions, I find myself praying to God while I’m changing my work clothes. I ask him to reboot my energy. He’s answered me before by reminding me that it’s okay if dinner isn’t a game of Beat the Clock. He’s also been known to point me in the direction of the everything drawer with the take-out menus. Ha! Thank you, Lord! 

There’s no denying that when it comes to the question of “what’s for dinner,” He helps me manage expectations. Not just what my family expects of me, but what I expect of myself. 

As I stepped to this blog post today, totally at a loss, God reminded me that He’s helping me prpepare these meals. My willingness is His only expectation. 

Through the Weeds

Even when life seems totally unmanageable, an absolute tossed salad or a garden of weeds—

God’s beauty and light are there. 

Look for it. 

Even when burdens seem hard to hold, His arms are there. 2 Corinthians 4:8-9, NKJV. “We are hard-pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed.”

Look for signs of His presence — He will fuel you today and fill you with the promise of all that He will do. 

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑