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Kristen Anne Glover

Five in Tow

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Words Worth Tasting

Words worth tasting

One of the wonderful things about being in community is the support you get when you’re not good yet.  They are the encouragers who are not scared off by your mistakes but who are able to look beyond your imperfections to the good things God is doing in and through you.

Do you have someone like that in your life?

I am blessed to be a contributing writer at Allume, and those girls are some fierce advocates of mine.  They encourage, bless, pray for me, forgive, and extend a lot of grace.

Before I was a part of the Allume community, I had Miss Williams, a college professor of mine who loved words like she loved good food.  I thought it would be appropriate to tell her story for the stumblers and the storytellers today.

If you have a moment, please hop over to Allume.  You’ll be glad to meet Miss Williams.  Then, I’ll be back with Day 9 of my 31 Days story a bit later today.  If you haven’t had a chance to read Day 8 (which I mistakenly called Day 9 yesterday because I have too much of the flu and not enough of the coffee) you can read it here.

Fiction 3 Comments

Dandelion Bouquets

 

Dandelion Bouquets

“Mom!  Mom!  I have something for you!”

It is Jonathan, charging in to my place in the kingdom where I am wrestling with a vacuum cleaner and thinking about scrubbing toilets.  He smells like outside and boasts a green smudge on his knee where his jeans used to be.

“These are for you, Mom!” he says, thrusting a beautiful bouquet of spring flowers into my hands.  His fingers are grubby because he’s been collecting worms again. They match the muddy spattering of freckles that are just beginning to make their summer pilgrimage across his nose.

Jonathan smiles.  “I picked them for you,” he says, using the same phrase he has used every year when the earth wakes up and flowers grow where the snow drifted deep.

Dandelion Bouquets

The same little hands—bigger now—have picked countless bouquets, and little feet—bigger now—have run up countless steps, eager to share the breathtaking beauty with me.

This time, it is a wild assortment of dainty bluebells, snow-white camellias, restless dandelions, and one cheeky blue pansy from the flowerpot by the back deck.  I notice he’s included a few specimens I’ve never seen before.

“Those are from Mrs. Smith’s yard,” he says, pointing to some flowers I hope grow profusely.

“They’re beautiful,” I say, and he nods because he knows.

“I’ll put them in a cup!” he says, grabbing the flowers back and charging out of the room.

I come down a minute later to find Jonathan with a jam jar, carefully arranging the flowers so the blue touches the yellow and the pink settles in against the white.  “I like arranging flowers,” he says with a shrug, because an eight-year-old boy with a birthday in two days can’t very well say he likes arranging flowers without a shrug that says he doesn’t.

It is beautiful.

I stare at it a moment and marvel.  Dandelions and bluebells, a wisp of a white-flowered weed and a pretty pink camellia, all nestle in to the same cut glass jar because they are beautiful to a boy who has not yet been told any different.

Dandelion Bouquets

I realize I am partial to dandelion bouquets.

A bouquet like that means there is a child in my life who hasn’t been taught what beautiful is, and isn’t.  It is the priceless kind, brought in by grubby-handed boys with green smears where their jeans used to be.  It is the kind that is selected by sweet-smiled children who forget not to pick the neighbor’s flowers because they are filled up with the happy task of gathering all that is beautiful and bringing it in to the one who is the most beautiful to them in all the world.

A few years from now, the world will try to tell that boy what beauty is, and isn’t.  But for now, I have a jam jar on the kitchen table and the dandelions and camellias are keeping company.  I have a boy, two days shy of nine, who brings me beautiful flowers because he thinks I am beautiful.

For now, I have a boy who doesn’t know any different.

*100 Beautiful Days of Motherhood: 37

100 Days of Motherhood, Parenting 4 Comments

Dining with Dragons

A dragon who is at all polite

Finds table manners a delight.

He washes up before he eats,

And waits for others to take their seats.

It is evident he knows the rule

Of using a napkin to catch the drool.

He tucks it underneath his chin,

And waits for dinner to begin,

Though he can hardly wait a minute

To eat the stew with three boys in it!

Or bite into the Princess Tart

(Dragon wants a juicy part)!

He does not grab, push, or whine;

That’s not the way good dragons dine.

He waits his turn and takes a little

Of every kind of tasty nibble.

And even if it’s not his fave,

He doesn’t ever misbehave,

And throw his food against the wall

Or refuse to open up at all.

(Mom lets him pick the eyeballs out

So really, there is no need to pout).

If he happens to burp a flame,

And doesn’t apologize, to his shame,

Dad simply says, “What a light!

Save it for a fearsome knight.”

But Dragon’s manners are so refined,

His father rarely must remind.

He never lets his wings stick out

Or blows milk bubbles with his snout.

He chews each and every bite

Quietly, with fangs sealed tight,

So Mom can’t see the food inside,

Partly chewed and liquified.

When he has eaten every crumb,

Dragon doesn’t dash off and run,

But stays until the rest are through,

Gives Mom a kiss and says “Thank you!”

He takes his cup and clears his dishes

Just like any mother wishes.

He is the pride of every dragon cave

Because he eats like a gentleman, not like a knave.

Perhaps you think only Dragon is able,

But even you can eat nicely at the dinner table.

Fiction, Humor, Parenting 13 Comments

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I believe you can find grace for the mother you are and help to become the mother you long to be—a mom who has the freedom to choose the better things and enjoy her kids right now.

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