Window Seat Faith

Living by Faith and Enjoying the Journey

Trust, Pray, Wait

Trust, pray, wait. Teaching kids that is harder than the moves for doing the bunny ear tie or crossing the street with “stop, look, nothing coming.” I teach them to pray and have faith by example. Yes, I can back my point of view with scripture. I’m also a living testimony, either from my younger days or we’ve walked through it together as a family. 

Still, I find myself feeling really anxious as they wait on the Lord. I guess I want so much for them and I feel like God has gifted them, each with a special purpose. And I feel like a child ever curious about how things will unfold. I think about what opportunities will come there way; what passions they will discover; who will cross their path; what turning points await… 
I don’t know, maybe my teaching is just fine. Maybe they are actually better at trusting, praying and waiting than I am. Maybe I’m the one who has a revved up motor. To be a mom, waiting and trusting for three kids, a husband, myself and the family as a whole. It’s heavy. 

It’s not that life is at a standstill. Everyday, it unfolds. I watch my family move forward. Everyday we all see the wheels of God’s plan turn. Not a day goes by that we don’t see light and blessings. I am like a little girl, watching and listening to see what unfolds. 

I know the little daily nuggets should be enough. Truly, I feel deeply grateful for all that the Lord gives us each day. As I teach my children, I believe that God is teaching me. Lord, set the pace in my spirit. Slow me down. Show me how to trust, pray and wait. 


A Date with Jesus

It’s tough being 23. I remember it so well. There were days when I would feel like I could do all and felt like opportunity was at my feet. There were other times when it seems like I was knocking on the door of opportunity and my hands were bleeding against an unanswered door. I get anxious for the questions and the uncertainty of which direction to go. I look back at pictures or have flashes of memories of cool concerts, social settings with my friends and whoever I was dating at the moment. There were so many great times. 

I watch my daughter at 23 and feel so much for who she is and what she has before her. I know it’s not easy, yet there will never be a better time in her life. She different from me, she knows the Lord and has a personal relationship with Him. She’s going to be a minister and He has already begun using her incredible light in many ways. I didn’t come to know Jesus as my friend until I reach different levels of a bottom or turning point at a later stage of my 20s and early 30s. 

My daughter has typical 20 something worries, challenges, waves of panic and very cool highs. I ride the waves with her, as best I can. I have to say it isn’t any easier to be 53 dealing with 23, than it is to be 23. 

When my daughter called on Friday and said she was going on a date with Jesus, I thought it was a wonderful way to end the week. I thought about times when I was 20 something and would go to the South Street Seaport or Central Park or the Citi Corp Center and sit and write or stroll and contemplate life. I didn’t know Jesus then. But, I wonder if Jesus was drawing me in and courting me. Knowing what I know today, I believe unbeknownst to me, He was reassuring me and showing me the way. 

I see incredible peace when I look at my daughter’s pictures of her on the Staten Island Ferry. A date with Jesus, I say how cool to understand the value of carving out that kind of time with the Lord — especially  at 23. 

As her mom, I feel relieved that He Is there to do what I can’t. At any age, at any stage, Jesus is the way, the truth and the life. 

Pencil Us In

Amazing to wake up on a Saturday morning with nothing in particular to do. A gorgeous first day of fall (I think or maybe it was Friday?). My husband didn’t have any study dates; an absolute wonder. A moment where we can step off together is always something that is penciled in, but usually ignored. 

We’re not one of those couples that has a designated date night. We’re home together every night. He’s usually in the studio and I’m in the kitchen. Always within earshot; our worlds always over lapping. Some nights, it feels like it’s by default more than desire. Other nights it feels like there’s no better end to the day. And there’s always the routine of TV in the bedroom with Jeff eating dinner as part of his bedtime routine. It’s a nocturnal musician gig dietary plan. It doesn’t make sense to anyone, except someone that works at night. 

So, yes, we have time together but rarely are we out together. Sometimes, I don’t think it matters. Sometimes, I wish more dates would be carved into the calendar. We’re so not the average birds — we really do just kind of go with the flow of time and space. 

Today, at the waterfront, was just simply chill. We talked about nothing in particular. We talked to other people. We listened to the river lapping. We listened to tourists talking. We talked about being hungry and thirsty. The thing with impromptu, is it’s usually not well thought out. If we gave too much thought, we would miss the moment. 

We talked about conversations we’d each had with our three kids. It was sort of like like casually comparing answers after a test. There was no panic or moments of doubt, it sounded like we said the right things, but who knows. We know that our conversations with the kids are usually from the heart and experience. Sometimes there’s a double dose of emotion, sometimes, it’s tough love.  Rarely are there any regrets. Certainly, there with the river and the sun happening, we didn’t dwell on life’s pop quizzes. 

We allowed ourselves to get swept up in the excitement of a big fish moment. Everyone gathered to watch a gentlemen reel in his fishing line, with building anticipation of what was fighting on the other end. He had to reel and reel and follow it around the side of the pier. What did he have, was this going to be a boot or piece of wood? Would his line snap? Finally, a pissed off catfish emerged! Wow, he was a big guy! I took pictures for my son, the young fisherman. Life goals, indeed. 

We were both ready at the same time. It been a wonderful dose of step off time. It wasn’t long, it was a weekend getaway or even a day trip. But, we were good with it. 

Driving back home to make lunch, I thought about how this time may have been penciled in the calendar, but it was God who truly carved it out for us. 

The Friday Sun Sets

It’s the end of the week. I feel it. It’s been a roller coaster of emotions for me this week. I’ve felt an incredible sense of promise. I’ve had a tearful, exhausting mommy moment. I’ve looked up st the night sky and the absence of the stars and felt that it reflected my mode. In contrast, I’ve looked outside of myself and saw that I was spilling over with happiness in the office, for no tangible reason. 

Yeah, it’s been one of those mixed bag weeks. One of those weeks where you know you’re blessed, but somehow have it all mixed up in your head.

So, yes, the sun is setting on this week and I’m thrilled to see it. For some reason, I think sunsets are prettier on Fridays. And the setting of today’s sun in especially magical. 

I’m soaking it in from my window seat, as if I can feel it. As if the window is open and I feel the breeze from the river and the moving train. I’m soaking it up, as if I’m on a beach in California. 

This setting sun makes me exhale. Thank you, Lord for putting a cap on this week. 

When Age Catches Up

She’s soon to be 24 and he’s a solid 18. She remembers when she cried for a sibling. Tears streaming down her face, not understanding how her mommy and daddy would need to wait a year or so after buying a house. She brought tears to my eyes when she begged that she had money for diapers.When he was born, she would sit with loving arms ready and willing to receive him, at any given moment. Being a big sister was a badge of honor, a defining purpose. And she marched down the street and through subway stations, guarding his stroller or the safety of his toddler steps. I was always amazed and thankful at how this little girl had my back. 

I don’t think I would have been able to handle it when, baby boy number two came on the scene. I clearly remember our routine when we would get on a subway. She had her two year old brother, while I managed to baby stroller. A mom on the subway with three kids is sort of abnormal. People look annoyed that my MetroCard got be a 4 for 1 deal. I always felt the urge to say, sorry I know, I should be in a mini van. 

And in later years, she was the best babysitter we never had to pay. She kept her brothers in line and had a check list on the fridge, courtesy of some baby sitter workshop she wanted to attend. She insisted that they respect her; even when he thought he was a cool skater 5th grader. I didn’t interfere, she’d earned the right to demand it. He might not have remembered his 4th birthday, when she climbed in the ball pit to rescue him because he was feeling overwhelmed with all of the kids and birthday activities. He may not remember how she sat on the floor with him in her lap, assuring him that the party was a good thing. 

Over the past year, it was hard for her to see him with a girlfriend, doing relationship stuff. This was the little boy who was affraid of grass, sand and totally paranoid when he saw his shadow. She couldn’t comprehend his independence,  confidence and determined sense of self. Listening to her and watching him, felt like a touch and go scene. I knew they loved each other, but would they like each other?

As I look at our recent vacation pictures, reliving the special moments, I see the sister, brother bond has become something very cool. They have a vibe that isn’t defined by age or obligation. And watching  them these days, around the kitchen table when they turn each other onto music or in he driveway when they pass off the car keys, I feel thankful that they are friends. 

I’m the First Responder

Motherhood is my hardest job. Most days, my 9 to 5 is a walk in the park — literally and figuratively. Motherhood, on the other hand, demands something of me that makes me sit up straight; walk tall. Rarely do I or can I slouch. Sure I kick back, I enjoy my kids and have moments that are incredibly cool and full of total feel good. Yet, I know that at a moments notice, I may need to be a first responder for one of my three young adult children.

I’m their lifeline as they walk through their life challenges, the crossroad decisions, the life lessons, the first time teaching moments, the rough emotional landings… I’m a text or a call away. I don’t take a day for granted and I know I won’t always be there for them. I’m here today. And I trust that by God’s lead, they are being prepared to carry the wind solo and to one day be the lifeline for their children.

Sometimes I have moments where I feel like Mother Earth, like my cup runs over with all that I need to be for my kids. Actually most times I have the stamina and God’s direction, to help them find their way.

It’s just also a very real thing that sometimes I feel like I’ve given away all the food on my plate. Seriously, as if I’ve let them eat all of my French fries at Wendy’s or they’ve picked off all of the pepperoni from my pizza, because they somehow didn’t have as many of their favorite, absolute favorite thing. Yielding, giving, sharing; caring with to the very depths of my spirit.

To feel so empty; to stand with an empty fruit basket, I can only pray for the Lord to help me pace myself and to help them see that they are stronger than they think. Yes, at times like this when I am weak, I trust that it is because they have actually outgrown my sustaining arms.

I pray for the Lord to fill me up, because I need to care for myself as well. And I ask Him to continue to lead and guide. He has blessed me with these children because they each have a special purpose.

Lord, as I walk in motherhood, the Glory is yours.

Meatless in Manhattan

I’m in my third week of a meatless lifestyle. No cravings yet and I managed to survive making fried chicken for my family. I even resisted my husband’s BBQ chicken. Amazed myself as I pulled the saucy chicken off of the bone and cut it up for my son’s omelette. Beyond feeling spirited with will power, I feel pretty strong physically too. I’m not sure if it’s the void of meat or if it’s the smart choices I’m making with my diet overall.

I’m trying to be mindful of my protein intact. Never have I been so conscious of the nutritional details and the count. I’m supposed to have about 58 grams of protein. I feel like I’m counting penny candy. I honestly want to find two breakfast things that cover me for the day. I don’t want to have to keep up with 5 grams of this and 5 grams of that… It’s worse than trying to make up the balance of my 10K steps at the end of the day, when I discover that somewhere in the course of the day I walked 1,303 steps less than my goal.

I know I have to add more fish to my diet. I like fish, I really do. But the little girl in me still wants to say no. The little girl in me still thinks of my dad coming home with fisherman’s trunk full; watching my mom clean them and fry up porgies and flounder. I always hated that pledge that there were no bones, only to nearly choke on one. And the fried fish and corn bread with syrup, yuck! Somehow this meal was supposed to be all good because fried potatoes were involved. Anyway, I know this fishy scenario is not remotely what would be happening in my kitchen. I’ve made amazing fish dinners, shaking it up each time with various herbs and spices, veggies and cooking methods. I’ll get back to that. For now, I’m just doing beans, veggies and grains. My favorite items right now and hummus and pesto. Pesto makes everything taste like it is being served up in a restaurant. And hummus, is one of those taste that I’m simply not sick of yet.

In the other side of this, I’m down to one kid at home. He’s a junior in high school. He’s starting to be busy with his social life, working and sports. He’s not home all the time for dinner and sometimes he eats before I get home. I make random things for him. Like last night I prepared a pack of frozen ravioli with some left over sausage and peppers I had in the fridge. Is it what he wanted? Perhaps not, but, as I said to him dinner just needs to be satisfying enough to get to sleep and through the night without hunger pains. He said, “is that what it’s come to, with the last kid at home?!” We looked at each other and laughed. We actually cracked up for a good minute. He was totally calling me out and he was right. I asked him what he wanted me to make. He suggested breakfast for dinner (with extra bacon), hamburgers, spaghetti with meat sauce. I smiled, sure I would get right on it. Oh boy, this meatless lifestyle will continue to be a choice that I have to make one day at a time.

I’m Really Doing This

Most of the time I feel like I’m setting the table and totally over projecting how many guests I’m expecting. I say I don’t care, some may show up after dinner in served and they will certainly be welcome to eat. Most of the time, I don’t even know what I’m going to cook, but I know God always provides. There are other times, when I think, maybe I’ll just offer a snack. And it turns out to be as filling as a feast. This is all how blogging feels to me. 

So, to get a notification today, that I’ve written my 100th post, I say that’s a lot of place settings; that’s a lot of meatballs! I’m doing it, I can’t even remember all of my posts or the passion that poured out when writing them. I know there was often an urgency that was absolutely beyond me. 

Like many of the blogs I read and follow, God is asking us to speak to a thirsty world. We don’t know when they will show up to drink; to feast. We only know that he has poured into us, so we can pour out. 

So, cool, after 100 posts — my writing is absolutely intentional. And yes, I’ll continue to “set my table” as if the world might stop by for a bite. That’s what bloggers do.

 I will continue to watch the Lord have His way. As I am here to share from my Window Seat

Through the Cracks of My Mind

I got to the end of the Highline and looked over the railing at the cool Chelsea restaurants. I was making a mental note of where to explore and dine next time. Endless possibilities, indeed. Taking everything in, I looked down at my feet and realized I was standing on an open grid. I could see a street vendor directly beneath. Like the Bionic Woman, I looked down and read the poster in the vendors rack. It spoke to me, “If you get tired, learn to rest, not quit.” Yes, I was a believer in that. To know when it’s time to rest. To know when it’s time to breath. To know when it’s time to have a moment of peace. I received that Word. Thankful for the time to renew and return strong again.

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