The Fierce Loving Mama

The Sweet Sound of You

Thu, 12 Mar 2026 03:06:32 GMT

The Sweet Sound of You

There is a song entitled “The Sweet Sound of You” by The Paper Kites. Part of the lyrics are sung –

“When I’m on my own

I still hear the sweet sound of you

Echoes through the home

I still hear the sweet sound (sweet sound) of you.”

The night before our son moved into the apartment he would share with his new bride after their wedding, we went out to dinner one last time as just a family of four to commemorate this milestone. Nick’s bedroom was packed. There were boxes stacked in the corner of the dining room. His walls were bare from pictures and shelving removed. His closet mostly empty with just a few things left remaining that we would store for him here. During dinner we talked and laughed. The kids ate and showed each other funny things on their phones. But I just sat quietly taking in the last few moments of our little family that would soon be changing and the ache of that realization. Our son would be moving out of our home forever and living with us for the last time. Our daughter couldn’t wait to transform her brother’s room into a hang out/study area, and to finally have the bathroom all to herself without sharing. But I couldn’t bear the thought of him not being there. I geared up for what the following night would bring with him being at his apartment and our first evening without him. It gave me a stomachache.

The next day entailed moving furniture, some shower gifts that Nick and Lily had already received for their new home, boxes, and clothes. It was exciting and their new space was adorable. They couldn’t wait to decorate and get settled in before Lily would move in after the wedding. Together they decided where best the plates, bowls, and utensils would reside in the kitchen. They organized the closet; which side would be Lily’s and which would be Nick’s. They placed a doormat outside on the front stoop. It was shaping up nicely as the future home of Mr. and Mrs. Furtado. But then came the inevitable. The last of the boxes had been relocated to their new destination and it was time for us to leave. I didn’t want to squelch Nick’s excitement, so I quickly hugged him and said goodbye. He was exhausted and ready to call it a day after the big move in, so I didn’t want to linger and I certainly didn’t want him to see me cry. Once I got home and made my way up the stairs, I took one look at Nick’s room and lost it. It was so bare and it was so….quiet.

Typically, I am in bed before my children, so I am used to hearing their individual sounds as I lay in my bed dozing. And I always found their sounds to be so very comforting. The way they open their bedroom doors. The creaks in the floor telling me where they are in the house. For Nick, I would hear him strumming his guitar, playing Xbox with his buddies, or the sound of hangers moving back and forth on the metal rod in his closet. But, tonight, I heard nothing. Not a peep. Not a laugh or a yawn or any music. Just silence. And it was absolutely deafening. The stillness echoed a blaring hush. No noise meant no child. And it wrecked me. The tears started and wouldn’t stop. My heart was aware that he was gone and that the silence was something that would continue to fill that room. I wouldn’t hear the garage door alerting me that he was safely home and I could finally feel at ease. I wouldn’t hear his singing and guitar playing lulling me to sleep. I wouldn’t hear him yelling through his headphones to his friends playing video games with him. I wouldn’t hear him call out “Mom” asking me where something was that he couldn’t find. And it actually frightened me. I didn’t want silence. I wanted the sound of him. I was becoming aware that pretty soon, our daughter would also be at the age of moving out and then what? Double the silence? I would once again have to shift into a new chapter of life. And one I didn’t want to face.

As mothers, we are continually altering our roles and adjusting to the next phase of our children. We go from the newborn stage, to toddlers, to teenagers, and adults. With each new juncture we figure out how to modify our tasks, part, job…whatever you want to call it. It is never easy and just when we think we have it down pat, a new phase begins and we once again have to figure out how to morph into our new mom role. It can be exhausting and difficult. Oftentimes, I am left unsure if I am getting it right, which adds to the uncertainty of the plight. Right now, I am trying to embrace the silence, but the silence is hurting my ears.

I keep playing in my head the sound of my kids laughing when they were little. The slamming of the door as they would run in and out of the house in between grabbing a snack before resuming their outside play. The TV blaring with their favorite shows. The singing at the top of their voices the songs they would learn. The banging of pots and pans in the kitchen. Their friends coming over. The splashing of either the bathtub or the pool in the backyard. By the end of the day, I couldn’t wait for bedtime so that I could finally get some peace and quiet. But, now, all I want is the noise. I want my kids’ noise back.

So, as I begin to embrace this next chapter of my life, I pray for direction and for the sadness of my heart to be replaced with gratitude. I look to the future with hope of once again filling my home with happy sounds. Of friends coming over to share a meal. Of future grandbabies cooing and babbling. Of family around the table for holidays. Of laughter. The noise doesn’t have to be gone permanently. It will now just be more sporadic, coming and going with the seasons of life. I can learn how to sit in the silence and find peace there. I can listen and find new sounds to take comfort in. I can think back on the wonderful memories of a once bustling and very loud household, and allow it to bring a smile to my face, remembering the sweet sound of you.

Tabula Rasa

Thu, 29 Jan 2026 19:19:52 GMT

Tabula Rasa

Tabula Rasa is a Latin term meaning “blank slate.” With the new year having just begun, it allows us to be just that, blank slates. It’s the opportunity to begin anew. To reflect on the previous year and its twelve months of experiences. We have the ability to look back and rejoice in the good and learn from the bad. It’s a fresh start to consciously be better versions of ourselves than we were last year. We just have to be intentional about doing so.

I had the privilege of going to Blakely Island twice last summer. It’s a quiet island with very few residents accessible only by airplane or boat. Life on the island is slow-paced and serene. On my second trip there in August, my dear girlfriend and I took beach chairs and plopped them down in the sand. We sat on the shore and watched the water of the San Juan Islands rush in to approach our toes and then recede as quickly as it had arrived. It was mesmerizing and breathtaking. We sat with the sun on our faces, breathing in the clean air, listening to the waves on repeat. We could have sat there for days, quietly taking it all in. As we walked along the sandy path, we found pretty pebbles, delicate seashells, empty remnants of crab shells, driftwood, and seaweed. We collected small treasures of our favorite shaped rocks and beautifully crafted shells. It amazed me that these lovely artifacts weren’t always this pretty or smooth. It took the pounding of the waves, the tumbling of the stones, and the friction of all of the elements together to create the masterpieces that they were. The actual beauty had been created by time, hardship, and a rough journey. And isn’t that just like us? The turbulent seasons of our lives that we have endured are what produce the finest versions of ourselves. Just like a pearl that begins rough, once it is refined by an irritant, produces a beautiful, smooth, gemstone prized for its luster. The tougher the crash, the more stunning the outcome. In life, the trials we undergo and survive affords us the opportunity to come out on the other side stronger and way more splendid than we had started. Will we fight it or embrace it and allow the process to refine us into improved individuals? Will we complain about the pain or use it for our betterment?

While on the same trip to Blakely Island, my girlfriend and I went to explore a particular area that housed a dock we could sit on. Before the sun set, we dipped our toes in the lake. As we did so, we noticed how the water would ripple from the contact of our feet. The ripples carried quite a way across the pond and lily pads. It made me contemplate again about how this translates to our lives. The things we do and say have a tremendous ripple effect. Sometimes the ripples are smaller and contained, while others are immense and cover more territory. Either way, the ripples make contact with what is in its path. As I look back over the past year, did my words and actions ripple through others positively or negatively? These waves impact everything around them, so my hope is that I left things better, not worse. Taking stock and inventory of the last twelve months, I can see how I could have done things differently on a few occasions. Thankfully, I have a new year now to make improvements to my ripples that permeate those around me and will be conscientious about them.

As difficult as it was to leave the serenity of Blakely Island and go home, I left there with so many significant lessons learned. Taking time to slow down and sit still in the quiet with beauty all around me allowed me to ponder, ruminate, and consider all that the previous year showed me about life and myself. It was a year of grief as we said goodbye to my mother-in-law, but it was also a year of joy as my son got engaged and married his lovely bride. As the months progressed full of engagement parties, bridal showers, and celebrations like my daughter turning 16, there were moments of complete delight mixed with the sadness of missing my husband’s mother. But through it all, I was grateful for every bit of it. Every emotion and feeling I had was appreciated because it’s a reminder of the gift of life.

And just like the tides that I watched come and go on Blakely Island, such is life itself. The waves are consistent and unending. They never stop. Even though they are sometimes smooth and calm on the surface, they can also be powerful and tumultuous, wreaking havoc above and below the water. If we weren't standing sure-footed on the beach or the boats I saw tied up in the harbor weren’t anchored properly, there would have been certain wipeout. We can get tossed and pushed underwater becoming disoriented in the waves of this world. That’s why having an anchor is key. It keeps us stable and in place. Even though we might get rocked back and forth by the force, the anchor supports us and provides security. My anchor is my faith in Jesus Christ who has never failed me. He has given me the strength to not drown and to not get pulled under. He has given me another year of life and new experiences that challenge and excite me. And, if given the right perspective, can even help turn me into a precious jewel.

When Our Child's "Yes" is Our "No"

Sat, 06 Sep 2025 23:40:27 GMT

When Our Child's "Yes"

is Our "No"

It’s a strange title for a blog, isn’t it? I debated what to call this, but, ironically, it’s just exactly that. Let me explain.

My daughter, Grace, had a terrible first year of High School. Like, the worst. Her Freshman experience was met with stress, anxiety, challenges, and many tears. The same private school we had been at for 17 years that was the perfect fit for our son, was not panning out as successful for our daughter. We prayed for a solution and one came in the form of a completely different kind of school altogether. It was a hybrid of Homeschooling and Running Start. She wouldn’t be at school five days a week as is typical. She would have to be self-motivated in her work and taking some college courses as a Sophomore in High School. We would have to keep track of her credits and transcripts. Homeschool has never been on my radar, so I was very reluctant.

We attended the informational meetings at the new school and prayed as a family for next steps. Grace was thoroughly on board with this revision in her education and enthusiastic at the thought of a shift in learning techniques. At the dinner table one night as we discussed the pros and cons of this massive change in her student career, Grace just looked at me and her dad and said, “Mom and Dad, why not?” Peter and I looked at each other and thought, yeah, why not? What was really keeping us from jumping in with both feet?

Well, it came down to change. We were so used to how things worked with the school Grace had been at since preschool and couldn’t fathom anything deviating from what we already knew. It was the unfamiliarity that we feared. The unknowns. We would have to learn a whole new way of schooling, a new system, a new building, new teachers, and new parents. What had been our tight-knit group of families and friends over the past 17 years at Cedar Park Christian School would come to a screeching halt. Peter and I were leery of what this change would mean for us, not just Grace. This would affect the many years we put into serving at this school, growing close with the faculty and staff, and the other parents we fostered deep friendships with and loved our children as their own. So, when our daughter looked us in the eyes and said, “why not,” we really didn’t have a good answer to give her. Honestly, if fear was the only reason, well, then it wasn’t a good enough answer. So, we withdrew Grace from Cedar Park and signed her up for the Co-op.

When Grace prayed if this new school was where He would have her, what she heard from her Lord was a “Yes.” Grace had the courage to make the change. He told her He would be with her through this transition. He would equip her with what she needed and that, perhaps, this was what would afford her a wonderful rest of her High School years. Selfishly, what Peter and I wanted to hear was a “No” because it was safe and comfortable to stay where we were. But, deep down, what was more important was Grace’s happiness and a place for her to thrive. Even though our hope was to remain at Cedar Park for the last three years of High School, God told us “No,” because He had something better for us. Change can be scary, but stepping out in faith means we get to experience Him in new ways. He will show up, our Walk with Him will be seasoned, and our faith in Him strengthened. So often we remain complacent in our humdrum ways. Change takes us out of our comfort zone and into a place of complete dependence on Him, not ourselves.

So, as I prepared for my first parent meeting at the new school, I walked in not knowing a soul or what classroom to go to. The funny thing about this is that if I ever have a nightmare, it is always this same scenario. It is my first day of school and I don’t have my schedule. I don’t know anyone and have no idea where I am supposed to go. It probably stems from the fact that as a child, my father’s job moved us around quite a bit. I was always the new student in a new town. It didn’t help that I was super shy, so every time it was the first day of school, I would cry to my mom, fear would creep in, and I would be wrecked. So, here I was, reliving my childhood and being the new student again, or should I say, new parent this time. But you know what? Other mothers realizing that I was new made their way over to me. They introduced themselves and made me feel welcome. I met the teachers, toured the classrooms, figured out Grace’s schedule, and after three hours of an overload of information, I left feeling relieved. It was a lot to take in, but God walked next to me that day. I wasn’t alone.

As we prepare for Grace to start school in the next couple of weeks at a new place, my perspective has shifted. What was once met with fear and uncertainty is now replaced with excitement. We are headed into a new season for us all, but it’s going to be okay. I am so proud of my daughter for conquering fear and for being willing to modify her surroundings. She could have stayed and suffered or she could venture out and revamp a better scenario for her style of learning. I am amazed by her tenaciousness and bravery, and I look forward to seeing how God uses her in this new space. And where He can use me in this new season, as well. At 55, I am still learning, and sometimes it takes my sweet daughter to teach me things. I have to be open to that.

So, when God gives our children a resounding “Yes,” don’t be quick to dismiss it. Sometimes we just have to say, “yeah, why not,” and take the leap.

The Furtado Four, Soon to be The Furtado Five

Fri, 23 May 2025 21:27:27 GMT

The Furtado Four Soon to be The Furtado Five

I knew this day would come. In fact, I have dreamt of it and prayed about it since my son was born. Who would be the lucky woman to become his wife? Who would change her name to ours and join our family?

My son, Nick, from little on has said that he could not wait to become a husband and father. I thought that was the sweetest thing when he was a young boy to have such lofty expectations not realizing the undertaking that goal is. To provide for a family. To love his bride unconditionally, and to raise kind and respectful children. Seems very easy coming from an elementary student’s point of view, doesn’t it?

I had been praying since the day he exited my body for the woman he would one day call his wife, but, when he would seriously make that statement about holding those roles close to his heart and really meaning it, I began to pray harder because I knew how important this was to him. I also knew that wasn’t always an easy goal. What if he didn’t find true love? What if the woman he chose didn’t want to have children? As any mother does, we worry about our children’s dreams coming true, and we work hard alongside them to help foster those aspirations to come to fruition. However, this one was totally out of my hands and in the Lord’s. All I could do was wait and pray.

At the start of his Junior year of High School, at only 16 years of age, Nick came home and said that he had met someone at school that he wanted to ask to Homecoming. She was a new student, a cheerleader, sweet, shy, and she really stood out to him. Her name was Lily. Nick did the respectful thing and asked her father’s permission to ask her to Homecoming. After some probing questions from her father and a visit to Starbucks for a face-to-face coffee meeting (aka, interviewing him as to why he was choosing his daughter to accompany him to the dance), he was granted his request and asked Lily. With a big smile on her face and a cute, bouncy ponytail on top of her head swishing around at cheerleading practice, she said a definitive “Yes, I will go with you to Homecoming!”

A couple of weeks later, I received a text from Lily which said “Hi, Mrs. Furtado. This is Lily Kincaid. This is the dress I have chosen to wear to Homecoming. I thought you would want to see it.” Smiling back in the photo was a beautiful, brunette, young woman wearing a lovely robin’s egg blue chiffon dress. From that moment on, I was hooked. She instantly had my heart, and as much as I tried not to get my hopes up and too attached to this sweet soul, I couldn’t help it. Maybe it was mother’s intuition, but I flashed forward in my head and could see her standing next to my son one day as his bride. Could this really be what I had been praying for all of these years? What Nick has been praying for all this time? But they were so young and neither of them had dated before, so it seemed unlikely. Whoever marries their first boyfriend or girlfriend?

The night of Homecoming was exciting and full of jitters and LOTS of picture taking. I watched as Lily fumbled pinning on Nick’s boutonniere and Nick blushing as Lily smiled at him. We also met Lily’s parents and immediately there was a connection. It was a blessing to know that as parents we were all in the same position. This was the first time either of them had been on a date, and this was the first time for us as parents trying to maneuver these waters, as well. We bonded instantly.

As the next few weeks unfolded and Nick and Lily were spending more time together, we realized that this dating situation was turning into some real feelings between the two of them. Perhaps it was time to set some boundaries and rules. So, we met privately with Lily’s parents in order for us to share our expectations and to see if we could come to an agreement as to what would be allowed and what wouldn’t in order to protect our children in these uncharted waters. They had never dated before, but we had, and we wanted to make sure that we were helping them be respectful of each other, not rushing things, and protecting their hearts as best as possible. Young love can be intense and our hope, as well as the kids, was to glorify the Lord in their choices. We were just so happy that Lily’s parents shared our same values and beliefs. We were able to be a united front that would assist them with accountability and be sure expectations were being met and adhered to.

To this day, we have been in awe of Nick and Lily’s maturity in their relationship. They have chosen to do things differently than other couples their age, and we have respected their commitment to each other and to the convictions in their faith.

Since that time, Nick and Lily have celebrated three and a half years together. They were able to graduate High School as a couple. They withstood being apart for 8 months as they traveled around the world on different trips doing mission work. They have grown together and in their faith. They have matured and God has been using them in mighty ways. Our two families have grown in friendship and a deep bond because of our two amazing kids. They have, in essence, being growing up together and we have gotten to watch them blossom individually, but also together.

On February 2, 2025, Nick asked Lily to marry him on a beautiful mountaintop on Blakely Island, a place that holds special meaning for both of them. It was also Nick’s 20th birthday and both of them arrived home to a houseful of friends and family celebrating their news with them at a surprise engagement party. It seems our prayers are being answered.

As wedding plans continue and I think of my son becoming a grown man, a husband, and a future father, I have no doubt that he will step into these roles beautifully. He has been preparing for this moment his whole life. He has been reading books on marriage, praying regularly, seeking wise counsel, going to church, and has surrounded himself with good, solid friends who hold him accountable and want the best for him and Lily. He has both sets of parents rooting for him, pouring into him advice (warranted and unwarranted, I am sure), and we are ready, too. None of us could have dreamt of such an ideal scenario. Two families becoming so close figuratively and literally (Lily’s family recently moved just three doors down from us), being High School sweethearts, and marrying their first loves. It just goes to show that when you pray, He hears and He answers. Not only has he orchestrated the most beautiful love story, but He has blessed our families with such an over abundance of what we have prayed for. He always gives so much more. He is THAT good.

I find it ironic that my own mother-in-law passed away five months ago. And now, as the cycle continues, I am becoming one myself. I had the best example of what a genuinely lovely mother and daughter-in-law relationship can look like for almost 30 years. Martha showed me how to love well, how not to pry, how to welcome a new family in with open arms, and how to be a doting grandmother. Through her years teaching me, my hope and prayer is that I can be the same to Lily. This beautiful woman has chosen my son. I am so honored, grateful, and humbled. The next stage of parenting for me is on the horizon as our little family expands, and we have more than enough room for her in our hearts and in our family for that. Cue the bridal processional music….

This Is Us

Tue, 04 Mar 2025 16:18:57 GMT

This Is Us

My absolute favorite TV show of all time is “This is Us.” It had emotional story lines of everyday life in an imperfect family and how they maneuvered their way through the twists and turns that were thrown at them. It touched on subjects such as death, addiction, sibling rivalry, parenting, marriage, etc. I could relate to so many of the characters because they dealt with what every family goes through over the generations of living life together. Most episodes made me cry because they hit home in one way or another. The show ended in 2022 after six seasons, and I was so disappointed that it was over. What was I to do with my Tuesday nights now? No more cry fests or what felt like therapy sessions after an hour-long episode.

It made me think about my own life and what the title “This is Us” really means. Looking closer at our little family of four, I realized that what makes us “us” is our imperfections. There have been many times that I have failed as a wife and mother. Perhaps I didn’t say the right thing or keep my cool. Maybe my teenagers took something more seriously than it truly was. My husband wasn’t as patient as he could have been. We have ebbed in flowed through the years hitting highs and lows emotionally, physically, and spiritually. All four of us have experienced the hardships of simply existing. Some days we have excelled at living and other days we have flopped exponentially. However, all the while we have tried to remain Team Furtado to be there for one another.

We have done our best to show our kids that we are not perfect. Not perfect parents and certainly not perfect human beings. None of us are, and we should never put that expectation on someone. We need to extend grace to ourselves and others in heaping portions as they are just trying to get through each day like the rest of us. When one of us falls, the other three are there to pick them up with a hug, a prayer, or encouraging word. Don’t ever leave one of us behind and to be each other’s cheerleaders come hell or high water.

I hear about families who are estranged, and it pains me. Never do I want my family to not talk to one another or not be in each other’s lives. In fact, if I had it my way, my family would live on a large compound together forever with my grandchildren running all around, every holiday spent together, and always being in each other’s company. I know that is completely unrealistic, but a girl can dream, can’t she?

As I get older and more mellow, the high bar that I had set for myself has lowered. No longer do I care as much about fitting in with the crowd, but I sure care about the example I set for my children. I don’t expect perfection whereas before I cared about keeping the perfect household. The dishes can wait. What is more important is a conversation with my kids where we connect and have honest communication. My dinner menu isn’t as chef-like anymore as it is short-order cook, but our family can sit around the table and talk about our day, the highs and lows, and everywhere in between. Our marriage is not flawless, but my husband and I sure do have many prayer sessions where we cover our kids, home, jobs, and each other in God’s Word because we can’t make it in our lives without Him. I prefer more laughter than tears because chuckling is more fun and oh, so good for the soul.

This perfectly imperfect brood is mine and I am thankful that God has chosen me to be the matriarch. It’s okay to show our kids that we don’t have it all together or have all the answers. That no matter how old we get, we will still be making mistakes and learning, and that is completely alright. We are going to mess up, so take ownership, say the apology, and learn to do better next time. Humility goes a long way in relationships and so does forgiveness.

As I see the choices my kids are making as they mature, I don’t always agree with them, but I am learning that I don’t have to. What I must do, however, is just be there for them as a constant stability. I will always be standing by as their sounding board, advice giver (when they ask for it), hugger, Kleenex hander, and prayer partner. I will love them no matter what because that is the foundation of family. We are blood, but we are also people who really like each other and choose to be there come what may.

So, this is us. The Furtado Four are flawed, messy, irritable, sometimes unkind, broken, faltering – however, when we aren’t those things, we are also loving, honoring, compassionate, gracious, and tender with one another. We are all of those things wrapped up in one, which is better than any television program out there. We can tune in daily as things unfold and watch what happens next. It is quite an adventure, and I am all in for it!

Death

Fri, 17 Jan 2025 00:53:10 GMT

Death

Death. That hideous word. We try to make it sound better by using the phrase “passed away,” but it’s still death. It can’t be sugar-coated or glossed over. It is sad and final.

My sweet mother-in-law, Martha, died over Christmas break this year. We are all still reeling from this loss. It was unexpected and the joy of the holiday season came to a screeching halt when she entered the hospital with pneumonia. She never recovered. What was to be a meaningful Christmas with our son home from Georgia and being reunited again to celebrate the birth of our Savior, instead became a trip to Boston to pay our final respects and lay Martha to rest. Boom. It hit us like a ton of bricks. Grief, sadness, and shock.

The loss of a loved one is never easy, but there is something, in particular, about the death of a mother that is hard to put into words because it is hellish, plain and simple. I lost my own mother when I was only 19 years of age. Two years later, Martha came into my life when I started dating her son and there was an instant connection. She stepped into the role as my new mom. In fact, I started calling her mom even before Peter and I were married. She never liked the “in-law” part, so she always just called me her daughter and I loved it. She made me feel loved, seen, taken care of, and wanted. Martha welcomed me into her life day one and for over 30 years, she never waivered in being there for me in ways I needed since being motherless at such a young age. She was a hands-on grandmother to our kids even though living across the country from us. She was a gift.

It has been 17 days since Martha’s passing and the grief ebbs and flows. It hits in moments least expected. I forget she is gone and then reality sets in again. I am confused, listless, sorrowful, and not all with it. I got out of the shower the other day and realized I had forgotten to wash my hair. It was still dry when I stepped out to grab my towel. I wore a pair of underwear backwards for a whole day and didn’t even realize it until evening time. I left my keys in our front door lock overnight. It only registered when I was scurrying around trying to locate them as I was leaving to drive my daughter to school. I am walking around in a fog. I am living, but in a different realm. I sleep a lot and don’t want to socialize. I just want to sit and be sad. And, I am okay with that.

Martha was a wonderful woman, and I think that warrants a pause. A pause to remember all she has done for me. A moment or more of being still and honoring her, and what a hole that has been left in our hearts in her absence. So often we feel that we have to get on with life. We have to move on right away. But, do we? Why? Why not feel all the feels? Why not spend time in reflection? Don’t our loved ones deserve that? Don’t our hearts deserve that?

I cry when the tears come and don’t hold it in. I get angry. I get sad. But, then, I also have moments of joy and thankfulness that I had so many years gifted to me by this human being that God placed in my life. I only had 19 short years with my own mother, but I have to be ever so grateful for those years and not want for more. I had over 30 years with Martha and that is a blessing in itself. Yes, I would have loved more time with them, but I had time with them. Period. I can’t be greedy in that, only thankful. God gave me two wonderful mothers in my lifetime. Some people never even have one.

As a mother myself, this loss has given me new perspective. This was my children’s first big loss in their lives. Their grandmother was an integral part of their upbringing. They spoke weekly, received cards from her often with a few dollars tucked inside just because, and so many “I am proud of you” and “I love you” phrases showered over them from her since they were born. It was the first time participating in a funeral and feeling this kind of grief. Watching their father say goodbye to his mother was difficult, and I believe it has made them think about the time when they, too, must say goodbye to their own mother.

It gives me pause to think about my own legacy that I want to leave behind for them. These hit-home moments are a wake-up call for us. It allows us to realize that life is short and to get busy in using our time here on earth wisely. No one knows how many days we are given, so why waste them? Why wait to tell those we love how much they mean to us? Make that call. Write that letter. Go visit them face-to-face.

As mothers, we play such a vital role in how our children view the world, family, faith, and life, in general. It’s important to love them fiercely so that when we are gone, that love carries them through. Pray for them endlessly. Take them to church and show them God. They have a purpose and as mothers, we are blessed that He chose us to be their parent. He hand-picked us for them. It is not a job to be taken lightly. We may have only a few days with them or a few decades with our children building a life, a home, a legacy. May that legacy be one of hope, happiness, growth, purpose, faith and most importantly, love.

As I write this, I am full of so many emotions. Grief is beautiful because it means we have experienced love. To feel this bad shows that there was once good. And, there will be good again. But, for now, I mourn. I mourn what once was. I mourn what I can’t get back. The way I process is to put pen to paper. Writing this has made me exhausted, so I climb back into bed now and lay in my sorrow. I feel the heartache and heaviness of misery. At some point, I will take down my Christmas decorations, but not today. Today, I grieve the passing of a mother.

Til Death Do Us Part

Fri, 06 Dec 2024 18:16:12 GMT

Til Death Do Us Part

My husband and I recently celebrated our 29th wedding anniversary. Typically, we just go out to dinner and exchange a card and small gifts to commemorate. This year, however, we had timeshare points we had to use by the end of the year or we would lose them, so we did something unconventional. We hopped on a plane to Arizona and spent a few days at a resort in Scottsdale. We took naps, read books, sat by the pool, ate out, and even spent our anniversary at a spa where we enjoyed a couples massage being pampered.

As we sat out on our veranda talking, we asked ourselves why we don’t do this more often. Being alone, just the two of us without kids and/or other travel companions, we were able to be on our own schedule and really relax. We had time to have deep conversations and connect in a way we seldom do at home with the busyness of life. We vowed to travel again and make this a regular habit benefitting our relationship and marriage.

Here’s the thing. When we get married, we vow to love and cherish our spouse till death do us part. In the honeymoon phase before kids come into the picture, our lives are all about our significant other. Often times we can’t get enough of each other. We can’t wait to come home to our spouse. Every minute away from them feels like an eternity. Life is bliss.

Then, kids come onto the scene. With sleepless nights tending to a newborn baby, added responsibilities with work and other volunteer commitments, we tend to spend less time together as the focus shifts to the kids and their needs. Because we are stretched thin with limited sleep and caring for children who require so much from us, our spouses begin to only get what is left from us as the end of each day. And, honestly, there is not much left to give. The people we vowed the most to tend to be the ones we give the least amount of attention to.

Why do we let this happen? The once passionate exchanges are now a quick kiss in kitchen in the morning as we say our goodbyes. We run through our days in the rat race of life and barely have enough energy by nightfall to once again give a peck on the cheek and fall into bed too exhausted to talk or check in with one another.

This is why we must be intentional with our spouses. Add regular date nights to the calendar and getaway trips with just the two of you. It is essential to have talk time on the couch to unite, bring each other up to speed on the kids, work, finances, how you are doing individually, sync calendars, pray together, etc. Set the kids up in the next room with an activity while you connect nearby. They will see you making each other a priority. Our spouses did, after all, come first before the kids, and they will be who is with us after the children move out, so make the commitment to routinely check in. Communication is key to a marriage and prioritizing time for it is essential.

My husband and I were surprised that our short vacation away did so much good for our souls and our marriage. We discovered we really do still like each other and had fun just the two of us. It was like it was before we had children and it gave us an opportunity to fall in love all over again. An added bonus was it gave our daughter a chance to miss us, too. We were feeling refreshed and rejuvenated to return home and back to our usual commitments. This time, however, we kissed a little longer in the kitchen before saying goodbye. I think we are going to adjust well to being empty nesters after all.

Our First Holiday Without You

Wed, 06 Nov 2024 01:06:09 GMT

Our First Holiday Without You

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday, and I usually host in our home because of it. So, when our son was in Guatemala in November 2023, I was dreading what Thanksgiving would look like without him here. The family traditions that we have reserved for this special holiday like making our own butter, eating homemade pumpkin bread while we watch the Macy’s Day Parade, and serving family recipes that have been passed down through the generations would have one less loved one to share them with, and I was a mess just thinking about it.

Autumn has always been my preferred season with the cooler weather, the beautifully colored leaves on the trees, and sweaters a plenty. My husband would tell you that I have a slight obsession with Fall decorations. Typically, I have pumpkins in every room with a decorated mantle full of lit leaves and a front porch overflowing with gourds. However, with Nick being away, I barely put anything out. My heart just wasn’t in it. I was not looking forward to this season without him, so why bother putting out anything festive?

The advice I was given by other parents whose kids were away over the holidays was to change things up a bit and make some new traditions. That way, we wouldn’t miss Nick as much if we weren’t doing what we usually would do with him in our home. So, we did just that. We invited other friends over to share our Thanksgiving with us. The noise and activity would be a good distraction from thinking about Nick too much. Hosting preparations comes with its own busyness, which was also a great diversion. I cooked until I was blue in the face. My daughter and I came up with Minute-To-Win-It games to play. We deep-fried a turkey and had our guests bring chicken wings to dunk in the oil, and then voted on the best-tasting wings. Everything was going smashingly well until….

Nick called. He face-timed us so he could say “Happy Thanksgiving.” I took one look at his handsome smile and almost lost it right there on the phone. He told me he had been watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and it made him homesick. My heart hurt, but also swelled at the thought that he was thinking of home and missing the traditions of our Thanksgivings through the years. As mothers, we try so hard to make every holiday, birthday, anniversary, etc., special. Nick telling us he missed spending this holiday in our home with his people was confirmation that it mattered. It mattered that I put in so much effort into making Thanksgivings special. That the food we cook for days on end, the family and friends gathered around our table year in and year out, and the laughter and love full of gratitude is all worth it. Even though Nick wasn’t home with us, he had our home in his heart. He was thinking of us.

He won’t be home with us again this Thanksgiving, and even though this makes me sad, I know he will hold the memories of this holiday close. My prayer is that when he starts his own family, perhaps he will cook some of our favorite family recipes with his wife and children. Maybe he will continue the tradition of making butter and pumpkin bread, and still want to watch the parade. He will gather the people closest to him around his table and tell stories of past Thanksgivings and the love that flooded our home. When we are long gone, traditions continue. It is part of our legacy. So, moms, keep ahold of them. It is a way to still be present through our grown children, grandchildren, and beyond.

Thanksgiving is a time of reflection and gratitude. To be appreciative of God’s love and all that He has blessed us with. I am especially grateful for family and the love passed down through the generations. Of those no longer with us, but whose traditions still carry on year after year. It can also, however, be a season of melancholy and pangs of sadness as we miss what once was. When our children were little. When we were younger. When our loved ones were still alive. It makes us realize the shortness of life and how special it is. So, this year, let’s not take any of it for granted. Love hard and love fiercely. And, always, be grateful.

Serve Anyway

Thu, 24 Oct 2024 19:50:49 GMT

Serve Anyway

Have you ever heard the phrase “Motherhood is a thankless job?” I have, too. And, honestly, I have to confess that I may have had that same thought in my own head a time or two on my mothering journey. Some days I feel just like the hired help. The only difference is, I don’t get paid for all the work I put in serving my family. But, don’t I?

Growing up, my own mother was a stay-at-home mom, and I always appreciated that. She was there religiously for me and my siblings. Although we had a babysitter on occasion, our mother was our constant caregiver tending to all of our needs and being our source of comfort. I can still remember seeing her figure in our doorway as I walked home from my elementary school not far from our house. With each turn of the corner and seeing her visibly waiting for me there gave me the warmest feeling and I was instantly at peace. I knew I was “home” because she was what made our house a home. A refuge and a safe space. She was our security blanket.

When my husband and I decided to have children, we both felt strongly that what was best for our family life would be for me to stay home with our kids. Because I had benefited from this in my own childhood, I was so thankful that we could offer our children the same upbringing. Even though it was a sacrifice financially, what I could provide for my family in this role has turned out to be priceless. I knew not only were we having to now live off one paycheck, but my time would be spent serving my family 24/7. As my husband has worked tirelessly through the years putting in more hours than I could ever account for to allow me the opportunity to stay home, I am ever so grateful for his efforts. He is a family man and rarely complains about his job and all that he physically and mentally exerts in a work day. Because of this, I can gladly serve him because he appreciates me and I, him. It’s a team effort. We respect each other’s roles and work together as a well-oiled machine in unison for the betterment of our family. Our household runs on love, appreciation, respect, and a whole lot of faith to keep it going.

Although being a stay-at-home mom has been a huge blessing, it hasn’t come without its hardships. The mundane routine can set in and you find yourself watching the clock, living off of a set schedule of feedings, naps, cooking, cleaning, and sleepless nights. I am not going to lie. Some days I was envious of my husband as he jutted off to work leaving me with piles of laundry, dirty dishes, and smelly diapers to clean up after. I coveted his opportunity to leave the house, get dressed up, have adult conversations, and even alone time as he got to drive in his car sans kids. He got notoriety on a job well done from his boss, earning awards and certificates, while I took care of baby spit-ups, spilled milk, and crusty noses of sick kids without one shred of a “job well done” or “raise” in pay. Even though I knew what I was doing was important and necessary, some days it left me feeling lonely and invisible.

The human condition loves recognition. It craves to be seen and heard. It feeds off of words of affirmation and praise. However, another word comes to mind regarding this and that is the word “pride.” We humans can be so prideful in thinking that everything we do should be commended and acclaimed. Our flesh seeks approval and we often feel entitled to be rewarded for our good works. To me, then, does that mean that everything we do is conditional? That a good deed should be met with something in return? Even though many times I have fallen into this mindset, I have to take a step back and do a heart check. And here’s why.

Our babies are learning from us. They watch how we care for them and others. Do we expect our babies to thank us every time we change their diaper or wipe their face? Or do we know how much we are their world when they smile at us and say “I love you, Mommy.” Isn’t that and their little hugs affirmation enough? Aren’t we supposed to model for them how to help others and joyfully give of our time, talents, and money? Don’t we encourage our kids to be kind and care for those in need? By serving them, we show how to do that with a heaping dose of love and compassion. Not by demanding them to thank us and give us a pat on the back because our egos need to be puffed.

When children are little, it is easy for them to express their adoration of us. They paint cute pictures of us to hang on the fridge. They make Mother’s Day gifts at school to be given with beaming faces and snuggle us all day long. However, as the teenage years approach, those little acts of appreciation seem to wane. No longer are you the most wonderful mother in world. You are now the most uncool mom that they don’t want to share the same room with. They are more interested in their friends and possess a more me-centered mentality as they are finding their place in this world. Their unkind words can sting and we are left wondering what we did wrong to receive such harshness. Their attitudes are laced with ungratefulness, rude eye rolls, and mood swings. As mothers, our hearts begin to ache for the younger years when our kids couldn’t get enough of us with their little hand in ours.

Again, the human condition kicks in and we start to become agitated. Well, if they aren’t going to appreciate me, then I won’t serve them. I won’t cook and clean. I won’t do anything nice since they aren’t being nice to me. We become just as stubborn as our teenagers, turning into childlike behavior when we don’t get what we want. Sometimes I wonder if God looks down on us in these moments and views us like toddlers throwing temper tantrums. We kick and scream, sad because our kids aren’t behaving in the way we want them to. Does this make us any better than them? So, the conviction spurs in us once again because our mom hearts beat differently for our kids than anyone else. Our nurturing spirit can’t help but turn back to our kids to care for them, even if they are being difficult and snarky. We remember what it was like to be their age and to be so uncertain about everything. We were trying to regulate hormones and understand friendships. And the last thing we wanted to do was to be nice, especially to the people we loved most, because they were our safe place to be just that, confused and restless, knowing that despite who we were, our parents would still love us regardless.

So, we continue to show them our love by showing up with their favorite drink when they have had a bad day. We meet them at their bedroom door with a readiness to listen and hug, if they will let us. We keep our mouths closed when we really want to offer advice, but they just want a sounding board to hear them out instead. When we make them their most-liked meal for supper and they don’t say a word at the table, but we know it’s comfort food to them and is easing something in their hearts just by eating it. When we try to be funny and make them laugh, but the look on their face tells us they are mortified, we do it anyway because someday they will look back and remember the moment that will likely put a smile on their face.

And, that is the hope. That one day, when we are no longer here and our kids reflect on their childhood, they will recognize that we never stopped caring for them. No matter how old they got, we were still there for them. We kept showing up. When they become parents and begin sacrificing for their own kids, that is when they will get it. That will be the moment that they appreciate us not turning away from them when we rightly could have. When their actions and harsh words broke our hearts so deeply, and yet we didn’t give up on them. Because that is what God does for us. He doesn’t turn away even when we mess up. So, serve anyway. Even when the teenage angst takes over your home. Even when you feel like your kids don’t see you and all that you do for them. Keep loving them fiercely because one day they will miss you. One day they will have remorse and regret for how they handled something and wish they could have a do-over. But the love you showed them will then carry over in how they care for their children and the family cycle will continue. One day your hard work will be rewarded and that will be in the sweet legacy you leave behind.

Get Yourself a Tribe

Wed, 09 Oct 2024 18:46:43 GMT

Get Yourself a Tribe

When they say “it takes a village”, they weren’t joking. Not only a village to help surround our kids with love and support, but for us mamas, too. We need a tribe of fellow moms to assist in building us up and encouraging us to continue on this journey of motherhood, which is quite a treacherous one. It is not one that I would recommend venturing through alone.

For the past 54 years, I have been building my tribe and God has been so good to bring women into my life who are devoted to me, as well as my children. They want what is best for my family and have been faithful to come alongside me during the hard times, as well as celebrating with me during the good.

A search for the meaning of the word, tribe is described as a “family.” What a beautiful way to describe a circle of friends. A tribe is considered to be as close as family, and my tribe is certainly that. With only my sister living nearby, my husband and I have been intentional about seeking out a group of people who would join our Furtado clan to be our close “family”, since our own relatives live out of state. It has taken a long time to build those relationships and we have done so by plugging in at the church we have attended for the last 23 years. There, we have found mentors and people who have chosen to come around us to be surrogate grandparents to our children. We have raised our kids alongside other couples who love our son and daughter as their own. They have prayed for us. They have attend sporting events and other extracurricular activities to cheer our kids on. We have spent holidays together. We have cried together, but also laughed a lot. They have been family.

Another way I was able to find mom friends is through our kids’ school. By volunteering and being involved in the school’s happenings, I have been able to come into contact with likeminded women who are there for the same reason. We need community and a school is a great way to find other mothers to lock arms with. These women are also at the school and can have eyes on our kids to help make sure they are behaving well and minding their manners. I appreciate the extra accountability it provides my kids. They know other parents are watching and that isn’t a bad thing.

Our community provides a plethora of different classes and activities that we can bring our children to for enrichment, but it is also a wonderful way to meet other mothers in the same stage of life as you. I always had my toddlers signed up for music, cooking, gymnastics, art, or other classes where they could learn something new. It got us out of the house and they could release some energy. I would be able to find other parents to have some much-needed adult conversations with. It was a win-win for everyone and we had fun in the meantime. Playdates are so good for children to help them with socializing and exercise, but also therapeutic for moms to engage in as sometimes days with little ones can be so mundane. I learned many great parenting hacks, recipes, advice on sleep schedules, etc., in the many hours of conversations with other moms during this season and they were a Godsend.

Your tribe doesn’t have to be big, just committed and trustworthy. It is a gift to not only have people in your corner, but to be a friend to other mothers when they need it. Having good friends means we have to be good friend in return. We have to be available and willing to help when the storms of parenting get rough. It means picking up a child from school when a parent’s doctor’s appointment runs long. It means bringing a meal to a family who is sick with the flu. It could mean sitting with a mother and crying with her when her child makes poor choices. It could look like a night of prayer with a couple whose child is wayward. Or taking a friend with cancer to her radiation appointment. There are so many ways to help carry the load when there is a need. And there is always a need, big or small.

It also means, though, that we have to be okay asking for help when we need it. Reach out, even if it feels hard. Friendship is reciprocal. And, let’s be honest, none of us have it all together, especially when it comes to parenting. So, let’s have some grace for ourselves, as well as others. Motherhood is learning-as-we- go. So often we second guess our choices and when we can have a circle of other moms cheering us on, it can do wonders for our morale and our souls. We don’t always get it right, but a pat on the back and encouragement to keep getting back up is so needed. As women, we are good at loving and nurturing. Let’s not only do that with our children, but with each other, too.

Being able to find a group of women to live life with is vital. Women who you can truly be yourself with is a gift. You can get together and feel comfortable not wearing a stitch of makeup or doing your hair. You can dress up or wear pajamas, and they love you regardless. They are, also, the type of people who are brutally honest with you when you need it. I had a dear friend gently tell me that she thought I had post-partum depression after my daughter was born and that seeking help would be prudent. It wasn’t easy for her to tell me this, but she was right and I was able to get assistance from my doctor. They are the kind of friends who tell you if you have spinach in your teeth or the tag hanging out of your blouse. I recently had a good friend tell me that, perhaps, the bra I was currently using didn’t give me enough support. By golly, she was correct after seeing a photo of myself and realizing it was time to do some bra shopping. I was so glad she told me! Good friends tell you the truth, even if it’s difficult. But, they do it because they love you. That is the intent behind it. Because they want what is best for you.

Our dear husbands are our partners in life, but we also need other women on our team. Husbands process differently, can’t always understand our emotions, or handle things like we would. That is why having other women to vent to is so imperative. And, sometimes, having a girls’ night or girls’ weekend away is so healthy for us. To slip away from our families for a break and just be. We can let our hair down, talk for hours, laugh, and commiserate. It is amazing what this time with our girlfriends can provide us – usually some peace and rejuvenation to return to our mom jobs with a renewed sense of purpose and drive. I read a quote once that said “Behind every great woman is another great woman” and I can’t agree more.

So, if you are having a hard time finding your tribe, pray. Pray that God would bring you decent, loving, supportive friends. Seek out other women in your church, kids’ school, extra-curricular classes and activities. Chances are, the other women there are trying to do the same thing as you. Connect, put yourself out there, invite them over, get plugged in. It could mean that you find those friendships that last a lifetime and will part of your dearly beloved tribe.

Laughter is Good Medicine

Tue, 17 Sep 2024 21:12:10 GMT

Laughter is Good Medicine

Wow, today has been a DAY. Actually, it has been a whole week! A dear friend was told her cancer has returned. My minivan decided to break down. My husband was out of town taking care of his aging parents, so I was left alone to handle everything. I was emotionally and physically drained, and so was my bank account thanks to the van repairs.

But, through it all, I remember my father (who has been gone almost six years now) saying to me, “Some gotta win, some gotta lose.” And, some days, we just lose. That’s the nature of life. So, knowing that those plot twists can be around any corner, we find ways to cope. I have found in my aging years that a good sense of humor can cure a lot of things.

In fact, studies show the health benefits associated with a good belly laugh. It improves blood flow and can reduce the risk of heart disease. Chuckling can reduce stress and relax the body. Laughter releases endorphins, which are natural feel-good chemicals that can temporarily relieve pain. It boosts our immune system, elevates our mood, and even oxygenates our bodies. It would appear that laughter really is good medicine.

One trait that I loved about my father was his sense of humor. I can still hear his laugh, contagious as it was. He would tell me not to take life so seriously or myself, for that matter. I have found that surrounding myself with friends who make me laugh is such a gift. Especially, the ones who I probably shouldn’t sit next to at a serious function where giggling is not appropriate. After spending awhile doubled over and crying from laughing so hard, I leave feeling a hundred times better than I did prior to my time with them. Plus, my facial cheeks and abs have gotten a good workout, too!

I love that God designed us all to have our own unique laughs, as well. They are distinctive to each individual person and all sound so different. Some of my dear friends and family members who have passed away will still be remembered by the way they sounded when they laughed. Music to my ears! And, of course, who doesn’t love the sweet sound of a baby’s laughter? That always puts a smile on my face!

It's not to say that we just laugh and let everything roll off our backs. Life can throw punches that hurt, badly. There is a time for sorrow and woe. Grief is real and it stings. But, once the pity party is over, it’s time for a praise party! In the Bible, God brought laughter out of sadness. Take for instance in Job 8:21, it says “He will once again fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouts of joy.” If anyone had much to have angst about, it was Job! And, in Psalm 126:2, it says “We were filled with laughter, and we sang for joy.” God created laughter and it is for mere delight.

So, the next time you trip on that curb and feel like a fool, accidently burn the meal, discover you had spinach in your teeth while you were having a conversation with someone, or accidentally turned left when you were supposed to turn right, just laugh. Let it out! Smile ear to ear because, typically, things can always be much worse, right? And, in the grand scheme of things, will those little things that we thought were so big at the time, really matter 100 years from now? As mothers, our kids are watching us, so what better way to model for them how to handle mistakes or mishaps? By not making a big deal out of something that truly isn’t. Teach them there is a wrong way and right way to react when things don’t go as expected (news flash, most of the time they won’t). You can fly off the handle or you can take things in stride and laugh. With laughter being as healthy as the medical studies show, it just might add a few more years to our lives! Which goes to show, sometimes, laughter just really is the best medicine.

Don't Forget Your Armor

Wed, 04 Sep 2024 19:34:11 GMT

Don't Forget Your Armor

As I sit here writing, my fireplace is on, I am covered in a cozy blanket, and drinking my hot coffee. My air conditioner is off, my shorts are put away, and I will save the iced coffee for warmer days. The Fall season is in the air and I am ready for it. Autumn has always been my favorite time of the year. I love the multiple colors of foliage and wrapping up in toasty sweaters. It is also the start of a new school year, so a clean slate is before us with a set schedule and much more of a routine instead of the lazy days of summer.

My daughter started High School this week. Being a freshman comes with all sorts of firsts and unfamiliarity. It is exciting, but also terrifying. She is at a new campus, so she must maneuver unknown hallways, classrooms, fellow classmates, and teachers, which means I must learn all of this, as well. In fact, I was in the wrong pickup line when school was released, so that was my first mishap. However, we found each other and we were on our way. While driving home, my daughter debriefed me on her day with all the common freshman blunders. We have all been there. I guess it is sort of a rite of passage. What doesn’t kill us, makes us stronger, right?

All of this change with my daughter at a new campus and our son away in Georgia gave me somewhat of a pit in my stomach. Our regular regimen that was quite comfortable had been upended and we must now accommodate a new norm. Why is change so unnerving? Because we are in the dark. We aren’t accustomed yet and so it is like moving down a dark hallway with nothing to illuminate it. We feel our way among the walls unsure of what is ahead and what is awaiting us at the end.

This reminded me of when my kids were little and I would put them to bed. We read books, said our prayers, and talked about our day. When it was time for me to leave and for them to fall asleep, they would call out that they were scared of the dark (despite the fancy nightlights we had for them in their rooms). So, we had a nightly routine of “putting on our armor of God.” That way, they would be safe and protected while they slept. We would pretend to put on each part of the armor and make machine noises as we “locked” each portion into place. We always ended with the final piece, the helmet. Once they were “suited up”, they would swiftly drift off to sleep cradled in their protective covering, if only make believe. But, is it really make believe?

One of my favorite Bible studies I have ever done was by Priscilla Shirer called “The Armor of God.” It dived deep into us being warriors for Christ. One way to do that was by each day putting on our armor of God for protection. As the world continually throws things at us, we must be prepared to walk in His strength. The illustration, as talked about in the scriptures, is to wear each part with purpose. The helmet of salvation, the breastplate of righteousness, the belt of truth, the shield of faith, the sword of the spirit, and the feet of peace. By dressing ourselves in these articles of closing, they act as a weapon against the foes that come at us daily.

As a new school year unfolds, we must help our children armor up. When we remember how difficult it was ourselves being teenagers, it proves even more so the reason for our kids to be well suited as they enter those angst-filled days of fitting in, all the temptations urging them on, hormone roller coasters, learning what true friendships look like versus broken relationships, crushes on people whose affections are not returned, etc. However, we must also remind ourselves to put on the full armor of God as adults in order to model for our children what being prepared looks like. As we encounter and engage with their school teachers, fellow parents, principals, classmates, and coaches, it would serve us best to be well-equipped, too. Extending grace, having patience, and being slow to anger are all good traits to assist in warding off potential disasters.

And, of course, as our older children leave the nest and begin to live on their own, it is even more mindful for them to wear their armor. As they step out in faith each day, they can feel empowered to walk in their God-given authority and in truth. To be strong men and women, and warriors, for God’s Kingdom. Let’s raise up our knights to be confident and sure of who they are. As the Bible says in 2 Timothy 1:7, “For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.”

So, let’s triumphantly get ready to conquer this next season of motherhood, this new school year, and for our kids who have already launched from our nests. Let’s suit up, Soldiers!

Chidren are their Mother's Muse

Wed, 21 Aug 2024 18:30:12 GMT

Children are their Mother's Muse

The definition of “muse” is the following: A person or personified force who is the source of inspiration for a creative artist.

As I am two days away from saying goodbye once again to my oldest child, I realize what a bundle of emotions I possess at the thought of his leaving. So, I write. I put pen to paper how saturated this sorrow envelopes me. I try to verbalize how much his departure consumes my every thought, my sunken heart, and my actions. How can one person affect me so drastically? How does this hurt so badly the second time around?

I believe it is because our children are our muse. The moment we become mothers, the whole view of our world changes. We see things differently because they spark something new in our hearts that we have never felt before. They give us purpose, perspective, and, well, inspiration. They inspire us to become better versions of ourselves. They stimulate us to try new adventures. Have you ever grocery shopped with a baby? That is an adventure in itself! They motivate us to become creative and artsy, such as fingerpainting, puzzles, and building with blocks. We do whatever crazy face or voice it takes to make them laugh because hearing their little chuckles make our hearts swell. They encourage us to get outside our comfort zones and try new places to visit. So many parks, so little time! They stir inside of us our childhood selves once again as we view life through their infant eyes. Christmas becomes a whole new magical holiday once we have kids. They make life fun again.

Maybe that is another reason why it is so hard to let them go. Our spark, our inspiration, our rouse, has left the building and we are left without our poet. The one who helped write our lives for the past 18 years is no longer there to ignite our souls. We are left uninspired, which often leads us to feel humdrum and passionless. Our own purpose becomes sterile and lackluster. It is during this stage of motherhood that we feel in limbo and often ask ourselves, what’s next?

As my son packs up his things to move to Georgia, my hurt hearts. However, I remember myself at 19 and the excitement I felt to venture off on my own, without my parents. Maybe I am a little envious of his youth and all that is ahead of him, as now in my mid-50’s life shifts and my older age creeps in. At this point, I can give my son all the love in the world. I can offer him a home he can always return to with open arms. I can comfort him when he needs reassurance. But, I can’t give him adventure and I certainly cannot provide his purpose. Those are things he must seek for himself. If he stays home with me, he misses out on growth. He will not become who God has created him to be if I stifle this move. I must push my selfish pride aside and let my kids out the front door. I would hate for my children to not experience all that this life has to offer. What they have to offer. And, man, do they have so much to offer! I must share them with the world so that they can make a difference. This isn’t about me anymore. This is about them. I refuse to guilt them into staying close by for my own desires. I love their sense of wanderlust and fearlessness. Why would I want to squelch that? God designed them for big things. He created each of their gifts and talents, and I can’t wait to see how He uses them for His story and His glory.

And, as they prepare to leave the nest, I realize that God isn’t done with me yet either. Just because our kids move out does not mean our purpose goes with them. Our next chapter is beginning and isn’t that exciting? Our purpose doesn’t have to end just because our role of mother changes. The muse of life itself, the grace of my Lord, the love of my husband, friends who encourage me, and the beauty of His creation around me gives me plenty of inspiration to keep on keeping on. Keep loving fiercely, Mama! We got this.

Hands Off, Hearts On

Mon, 12 Aug 2024 20:37:53 GMT

Hands Off, Hearts On

I read a beautiful article the other day about mothering adult children. It said that we come to a stage where it requires us to be more hands off, but always hearts on. I loved this because it sums up parenting at this stage in my mothering journey as I try to figure out how to love my grown-up kids well. It means not offering advice unless they ask us. We allow them to dictate the frequency of communication between us (otherwise we would call them every day). It requires us holding our tongues more when we would rather give our opinions. It is a new way of allowing them to take the lead. A switching of roles of sorts.

My son recently had his wisdom teeth out. It was difficult watching him in pain, trying to talk with bloody gauze in his mouth, and seeing him so uncomfortable. I think it is harder in these situations for mothers more so than the children. The last thing we ever want is for our kids to be hurt. We would do whatever we could to take the pain away or to even take it on ourselves, so they do not have to experience it.

As mothers, however, I think the hardest pain to watch is the emotional/mental agony our kids go through. Feeling excluded, having low self-esteem, not feeling like they fit in, body image issues, friendships that dissolve, broken hearts from relationships, or not making it onto a sports team they worked so hard for. These are the toughest. When we cannot fix it for them. When they have to figure out who their true friends are on their own. When they must experience failure in order to find resilience. These are the life lessons that can only be learned by walking through them to find strength on the other end. As mama bears, we want to plead with the coach to let our kids play. We want to reach out to the kids who are not acting at all like a “friend” to our child and to be nice. We want to call the boy who broke up with your daughter and destroyed her heart to read him the riot act. But, unfortunately, we can’t fight these battles for them. They must learn how to maneuver these situations for themselves in order to cope with a lifetime of impending disappointments. It’s unfortunate, but it is reality. Life is hard and if we can help them learn how to have dignity and grace through these experiences, they will be better people for it.

So, we take our hands off slowly, but we continue to love fiercely. We can sit next to them and let them vent. We can give boxes of Kleenex and lots of hugs. We can offer advice when asked. We can just be there because they need to know we will always be by their side coaching, encouraging, listening, sympathizing, and loving. That is something they can count on. We were teenagers/young adults once, too, so we know how they feel. We have all experienced heartache, gut-wrenching let-downs, and lost friendships. This helps us empathize with our children as we know the pain they are going through. Our past scenarios of turmoil lead us to fully sympathize and love better because we have been there, too.

As I sat holding my daughter while she cried about friends being mean to her and she just could not understand why, all I could do was hug her, cry with her, pray over her, and love. Love is what it is all about. Love covers all. Love heals. Love is what mothers do.

The Walking Dead

Wed, 31 Jul 2024 18:48:33 GMT

The Walking Dead

As if saying goodbye to you last year wasn’t bad enough, I have to do it all over again. I told myself I wasn’t going to be the irrational, emotional, needy mom that I was last summer, but here I am. Once more, I have a pit in my stomach and a building ache of that last hug before you leave me again and move across the country. Even though I am grateful you are only states away instead of countries away like your last excursion, you are still leaving, and I am already trying to build up my strength to deal with this next year without you.

A couple of years ago, my then-teenage son asked me if I wanted to watch a TV series with him that he really liked. Now, when your teenage son asks you to spend any amount of time with them, you jump at the chance. I was all in and immediately jumped on the couch to start our series. I was equally happy to find out that the show he chose, The Walking Dead, had eleven seasons, so our time together would be stretched over 177 episodes. No problem. Even though it was a show about zombies, just the fact alone that it was my son’s idea for me to join him made my heart swell. After a while, The Walking Dead became “our thing.” We would pop popcorn, grab our blankets, and settle in on the sofa for another episode. As the series continued, I genuinely enjoyed the show, but, mostly, it was just that Nick and I had something special to call our own.

When he chose to join Adventures in Missions and travel around the world for nine months after graduating High School, we discovered that his training would be in Gainesville, Georgia, less than two hours away from where the show The Walking Dead was filmed. We were thrilled and planned to extend our trip when dropping him off to include sight-seeing around Senoia, Georgia. We hoped to see landmarks, buildings, etc., from the set, which we did. They have a whole museum there dedicated to The Walking Dead and we had fun exploring all that it had to offer and actually seeing some of the props, costumes, and homes used in the show.

As I look ahead to this next year seeing Nick off a second time, I see how good God was to give us that time together watching The Walking Dead, talking about and picking apart each episode, wondering what would happen next to the characters. But not only did He give us those hours together on the couch, He also gave us the experience of actually walking the grounds where the show was filmed to add to that sweetest. What were the odds that that location would be so close to where I would be saying goodbye to my son? I don’t believe in coincidences. Knowing I would be letting him go and the pain that was coursing through my heart having to say goodbye, He gave us one more opportunity to solidify our relationship and what we had shared over a couple of years with The Walking Dead. God is truly that good!!

In less than a month, Nick will be gone again. It makes me cry just anticipating it. Funny, I thought that the second time around would be much easier, but I am finding it’s not. I think it’s because I had him back this summer and it felt so good to have him under our roof again. We were a family of four once more and my heart was full. I truly don’t want to let him go again, but this is what boys do. They grow up and become men, ready to tackle the world. He is ready, but I am not.

So, I wrestle with the hurt and pain of goodbye. I sometimes feel that I stumble around like one of the zombies from The Walking Dead, dragging myself from place to place, moaning, unhappy, and miserable. Dying a little more each day. Is this what a mother’s lot in life is? To love so completely just to let our children go? No, I don’t entirely think so. Mothers can’t let go. It’s not in our nature. Our kids will always be our kids, and that love never dissipates. It wasn’t designed to. It was meant to endure over the years, miles, and generations. And we just hope that our kids always feel our love as we think of them daily, pray for them hourly, and ponder constantly of when we can see them again. When they return home, we get filled up again, recharged, and renewed. Until they leave us again. And then, we start the whole process over again. Rinse and repeat until we are on the other side of the cross.

Mom Title

Wed, 24 Jul 2024 15:00:05 GMT

Mom Title

There are so many roles that we embody throughout our lifetimes. Names, labels, monikers, and titles that tell people who we are. Most are temporary terms such as “new driver,” “student,” “new hire,” etc. Even our jobs will one day fade away and we will no longer hold those titles that, perhaps, at one point made us feel important and successful.

For over a decade, I was in the bridal industry and carried around my business cards with me, which had the title “Bridal Consultant” printed on them. It was a fun career that I still cherish in my mind today. I met the most wonderful women that I had the privilege to work with, and clients that I got to assist during a very special time in their lives. However, I am no longer a Bridal Consultant and those business cards are long gone. I left that field of practice after ten and a half years when my husband and I decided to have children. We both felt that it was important that I be a stay-at-home-mom to care for my husband, children, and our home. So, I put away the blazers and high heels in exchange for sneakers and leggings, and haven’t looked back.

As I age and those titles soon drift away (former member of our church’s Women’s Advisory Council, previous Vice-President of our school’s PSO board, past Bible study leader, etc.) there is one title, however, that will always be attached to my name and that is “Mother.” For the rest of my life I will be someone’s mom. On the family tree hundreds of years from now, my name will still be in its rightful place. The name I cherish the most. The title that holds for me the most joy and importance. What I feel has been my greatest accomplishment and success is being a mom. No one can ever take that away from me. I can’t be fired from this job. I can’t be demoted. I may not always do it perfectly, but I will still be a mother. The best name in the world, Mom, is mine. My kids are mine and I am theirs. We will forever have this bond by blood and by this gift that God has given us.

Some people define success by how much money they make or the size of house they own or the expensive car they drive. I define success by family. Are my kids kind and respectful? Are they good people with big hearts who help others? Are they hard workers who love God and follow His precepts? Are they happy? Do we like to be together as a family and laugh and have special traditions that we treasure? Am I the happiest when we are all together in our home and safe? When my kids hug me and tell me they love me? It is all of those things. But, most assuredly, when they smile at me and I hear them call to me “Mom” is what I love the most. What causes my heart to burst. What puts the rose in my cheeks. What makes my spirit soar. There is nothing more beautiful, more sacred, more precious, more endearing or more loving than that. The title of Mother lasts a lifetime and beyond. When I am long gone, I will still be someone’s mother, and I am most proud, humbled, and grateful for that.

I needed an alignment

Thu, 11 Jul 2024 20:33:12 GMT

I Needed An Alignment

After my son left home for the first time, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I walked around like I was in a fog, unsure of what to do or how to feel. Should I text him or give him space? Should I reach out or wait for him to contact me? What should I do with this extra time I had on my hands?

Our youngest daughter was the only child left at home, so I found myself all over her. What once was multi-tasking between two children and tending to both their needs, now meant I could focus all of my attention on her. But, in doing so, Grace shared with me that she felt smothered. My first child was gone, so all of my energy was on her, which I thought would be appreciated. Instead, she felt overwhelmed by my constant presence and trying to connect with her. She enjoyed her space and alone time, and all I was doing was crowding it.

With extra time on my hands, I could now invest solely on Grace, which wasn’t a bad thing, intentionally. However, what I found was that I was out of alignment with God. All of my energy that I was putting into Grace was actually draining her. So, what better way to spend that extra energy and time, but investing that into my relationship with God? In doing so, the fruit of that would then trickle down to being a better wife and mother. In prayer to Him, in learning His Word, and growing closer to Him, meant I could better prioritize my time and know the best way to approach my daughter and my son, who was halfway around the world, to be there in the way they desired. I was wanting to control the anxiety I was having about my “loss” of Nick and then, not realizing it, burdening Grace unconsciously. What I needed was an alignment.

Similar to when our cars are out of alignment, my heart was out of alignment with God. Have you noticed that when your car is out of alignment it pulls to one side and is off center even though the car is pointed straight? Poor car alignment can wreak havoc on your vehicle and cause other problems to arise. Worst of all, it increases the risk of an accident. Likewise, if our faith is out of alignment with God’s, we can start to veer the wrong way. It gets more difficult to steer and we have to work harder to get the car back on track. It takes a trained mechanic to fix the problem, just like it takes the Lord to fix our hearts. Alignment by God is the place where He begins to put things in order (like putting our car back to its original state in order to run properly). By coming into agreement with God, we focus on what He desires for the life He has created for us, and not trying to frivolously and haphazardly control what we think, or the world thinks, we should grasp onto. We must repent any sin that has created this misalignment (pride, jealousy, anger, greed) and then submit ourselves to the Holy Spirit. Pray and allow the Holy Spirit to redirect our steps and to renew our minds to what the truth is, not just what we are feeling in the moment. Psalm 143:10 says “Teach me to do your will, for you are my God. May your gracious Spirit lead me forward on a firm footing.”

When we align with God, the best possible outcomes happen. When we non-align with Him, an accident is just waiting to occur. So, go to the best mechanic around, the Lord, and get an alignment. It’s free, and it’s freeing! Plus, it saves so much further adjustment and repairs in the future. If you feel you are at risk with poor alignment, surrender it all to Him and get back on track. You will be glad that you did.

Day 12 Without You

Thu, 27 Jun 2024 16:23:10 GMT

Day 12 Without You

It’s been almost two weeks since we dropped you off at base camp, Nick. What a series of highs and lows we have had adjusting to life here without you. I hate it. I hate everything about it, but God has shown us you are where you are supposed to be, so we endure the pain minute by minute. Some days are better than others. I have been trying to keep busy so the time passes quickly. I haven’t cried as much lately like the first couple of days after we got home, so I guess that means I am making progress.

I got a new haircut and joined an exercise class. I have been writing up a storm, which helps me process my feelings. I have been throwing myself into being there for Grace and tending to her since I don’t have to split my time between you and her now. I am praying more than ever and God has been so faithful in sustaining us. He is so good and I am so thankful for His care of me while I figure out this new season of my life.

We have heard from you a lot more than we thought we would. I am so appreciative of that. I see videos that are posted with you in them and it makes me giddy to see your face. You are happy, dancing, laughing, and getting along with your team, which brings me much peace. Even with getting strep throat, I knew you were in good hands and that your team and leaders would care well for you. Even though the enemy is trying to strike you down, God has you.

You sent me a text that says you “love me to death.” That made my heart swell. You were rebaptized to recommit yourself to this process and to have the right posture as you do His work. That made me so proud. You are wanting to keep the Sabbath holy. That convicted me to want to do the same. You shaved your head as you transition into this new adventure. I cut my bangs in solidarity of your change. You are keeping physically fit and fasting. I joined an exercise class and am trying to eat better as you have inspired me. Son, you are doing so good. In just the first week, we had already seen a change in you. You are thriving and growing in Him. You are using words like “blessed” because you see His goodness working through you. We are so very proud and eager to hear from you with what you have learned and how you are preparing for your travels ahead. Each time a text comes through from you, my heart skips a beat. Whenever you face time us, I light up just to see your face and hear your voice. Each time you have called, I am so thankful it has been when me, your dad and your sister have all been here so we can be together. God is good that way. I know that when you leave the states, we won’t hear from you as much, so I will take whatever communication we can have with you now. I eat it up and I anxiously await our next contact with you with bated breath.

The holidays will be here soon and I am not looking forward to celebrating without you. You will be missing Grace’s and Dad’s birthdays, and our family traditions will be with one less this year. It doesn’t seem right. If I am being honest, it doesn’t seem quite fair, but as I have told you so many times over the years, life is not fair. We don’t always get what we want and we must learn to be okay with that. Funny, now I am needing someone to say that to me. To remind me that I mustn’t be selfish. I won’t always get my way. My way would have you here right now and yet, you aren’t. How is it that my heart hurts this badly? How is it that you are miles away and happy, and I am here in our home sad and alone? It has only been 12 days, but it feels like an eternity.

When you were a baby, I would rock you in your dim bedroom. I would pray over you as you slept on my chest that one day you would come to know the Lord and you would spend the rest of your life chasing after Him. I would pray that over and over through the years not realizing that one day you would, and that one day you would leave us to follow Him. I wished for this. I prayed hard for this. And, now, here we are. My prayers have been answered. I am so proud and yet I hurt so much. How can this be?

The task of mothering has always been a sacrificial one. Mothers sacrifice sleep, their bodies, their finances, their time, and, yes, even their hearts. It is often referred to as a “thankless job.” And, not only do we do it once, but we continue to have more children, so we exert more, which means we feel even more. As mothers, we work from our hearts. We pour ourselves into our husbands, households, kids, pets, jobs, volunteering, etc. Out of that, we feel exponentially what each member of our family is going through. We hurt when they do. We cheer when things are going well. We rush in when there is a need (and there is always a need). Mothers are the glue that holds everything together and if the glue fails, well, so does everything else.

My husband says that mothers are air traffic controllers. We are always accessing where everyone is, if everyone is where they should be, and redirect when things arise. We are always on high alert to make sure everyone has what they need and that things are running smoothly. I have also heard that air traffic controlling is one of the most stressful jobs, so it’s no surprise that mothers are continuously feeling burned out, fatigued, strained, irritated and exasperated. We feel everything for everyone. And when it comes to our children, multiply that by a gazillion.

However, sacrifice is what we signed up for when we decided to have our babies, so we do it all, pray a lot, and hope for the best. We pine for our children and their safety. We place them on the right path and pray they don’t swerve off of it. And, we remember that God is the perfect example of parenting. Did He sacrifice? You bet He did. Big time. He sacrificed His son on our behalf, so the next time I am missing my son, I will remember that I prayed for this. God never said it was going to be easy, but He did promise to be there for us. And, if it means my son is somewhere other than home because he is off telling others about our Father, than what worthier a sacrifice is there? I can’t think of one.

Day 1 Without You

Thu, 13 Jun 2024 17:03:08 GMT

Day 1 Without You

We did it. We got through the hard part of saying goodbye to you yesterday. I wanted to keep holding you, but I couldn’t. I eventually had to do the hardest thing I have ever had to do to date as a mother – say goodbye to my adult son venturing out into this scary world. I had to leave you with just a backpack full of stuff for nine months. I had to leave you sleeping in a tent on the ground with spiders.

How is this possible? A year ago, we had absolutely no idea what you were going to be doing after high school. You were just enjoying your senior year with friends and being a kid. Fast forward to a year later, and I am standing in a parking lot, sobbing, holding you close so that I could take in every last moment with you of your smell, your voice, your hug. We left you as a young man of 18 with this next chapter ahead of you. So many unknowns. As we drove off, I was wondering what had we just done? How did we get to this point? Why had I not hugged you more in these last few months? Why had we not had more conversations about important things? How did 18 years fly by in what felt like a minute?

From the parking-lot moment on I was just plain numb. We drove to the airport with tear-stained faces. Your father, sister and I crying tears that stung so badly and hearts broken for our son and brother who has meant so much to this family now gone. A part of the Furtado Four left behind at a training camp in Georgia. As our plane took off, I cried once more realizing that you would be over 2,000 miles away from us for the next six weeks, but even many more thousands of miles away once you fly to other countries to do God’s work.

I dreaded coming home. We climbed into our minivan at the airport realizing the last time I had been in it the four of us were together excited for our trip to Georgia and the fun things we had planned before leaving you at Adventures in Missions. I felt sick knowing I would have to enter our home without you there, your things all around us. Reminders that you were not there and we would have to figure out how to live here in this space without your presence. And, it was worse than I had anticipated. I saw your car in the garage and your Converse shoes on the floor. I saw your keys hanging on the hook in the laundry room and crumbled. I went to your room and laid on your bed and sobbed. I looked around your space that you created. The things you hung on your walls. The desk and dresser you painted from blue to gray. The way you had a blanket laid nicely over the foot of your bed and I wept like I have never wept before. I saw a Dr. Pepper in the fridge, your favorite, and bawled. I actually wailed with a vengeance and let it all out. The grief of releasing my son. Of letting him go out on his own. The realization that our family would never look the same again, and that I had to spend the next nine months of holidays, birthdays and milestones without you and with limited contact with you, not sure that I would be able to endure the pain.

Grief is such a strange thing. You are fine one moment, but then a complete wreck the next. The roller coaster of emotions. The memories come flooding back. The pain so intense it brings you to your knees. I had no idea it would be this hard. No one prepared me. People said it would be hard, but this hard??? I guess the epiphany of how much you love your children arrives at this moment – when they are gone.

I have been in my pajamas all day wandering the house not sure of what to do. Knowing I had to unpack from our trip, but when I began unpacking our snack bag, I realized they were all snacks that you had picked at the store and again I was a sobbing mess. I wish I could go back to the start of our trip when we were just having fun and exploring instead of facing the real reason we were there and that was to launch you off. Our Walking Dead tour, swimming in the pool, exploring the Georgia Aquarium and Coca-Cola Museum, visiting with family was all just a mask of the pain that lay ahead. Of the tough goodbyes on the horizon. The impending doom of goodbye.

Your father and I laid in bed together holding one another and crying. Your sister slept in your bed and cried herself to sleep. We are THIS sad because we love you THAT much. We are walking around in a fog, not able to process much other than just plain pain. It is 1:46 in the afternoon and Dad is still in bed. He is having a difficult time, too. I went out to the garage and sat in your car for a good long while. It gave me some peace to sit in the car that has been yours for the last couple of years. I found some receipts in the glove box, a stick of deodorant, and trash in the cute little garbage can you were so excited to buy. As weird as it sounds, I didn’t empty the trash. It is a part of you and I can’t seem to get rid of it. How strange. I laughed at the “Sex Wax” car fresheners you have hanging from the mirror remembering our disagreement about why you shouldn’t hang something in your car with the word “sex” on it, especially going to a Christian school, but you loved the scent and wanted to use it, so you cut the word “sex” out of it and hung it up. Now that you have graduated and are 18, you bought a new one and this time you didn’t cut the word out. I will probably take it down if I ever drive your car. I will not, however, remove the steering wheel cover that you love and I like, but dad doesn’t and removes whenever he drives it. Oh, the petty, silly little things that we had disagreements over. How I wish I could go back and change some of those discussions. They really didn’t matter and yet left us feeling so yucky inside. Hindsight. You don’t realize until you have the opportunity to look back. So much regret when you realize the things that are truly important and the things that clearly aren’t.

As I left your car and went to walk into the house, I stopped and stared at your shoe box full of shoes. Why do these shoes make me crumble when I see them? They are shoes you selected. They are shoes that still carry your scent. And, yes, oddly enough, I stood there sniffing them trying to smell any bit of you that I could. The Converse just smelled like rubber, but I wish I could have smelled your feet. The weird things grief makes you do. I would so often avoid your shoes because of how odorous they were. Now, I can’t get enough. For some reason, your smell that lingers gives me a solace that I need right now. I need even the smallest piece of you. Perhaps a piece to make me whole again as I feel utterly broken in this moment.

I drank my coffee this morning from the mug you painted a few years ago with an N on it. I almost ate your favorite corned beef hash, but didn’t even have the energy to make it. I am doing whatever I can to saturate myself with you. I need you. Part of me wishes you would just come home and not complete the race. How selfish of me is that? This is Day 1 and I am already wanting you home. I am thinking of our sweet reunion on May 23rd and I can’t wait for it. However, that is a long way off and I come to the realization that that isn’t for another nine months and I spiral out of control again into a heap of tears. How am I going to do this for nine whole months? I am scared I won’t recover from this. That I won’t be able to last and have a nervous breakdown. I want to see you and know that you are okay. I want to know what you are thinking and how I can help you through this. Are you scared, lonely, and wondering if you are wishing you had gone to California Baptist University instead? Do you miss us at all? Are you clinging to God the way I am clinging to Him now trying to process all of these feelings and doubting that my strength is enough to fight this torture of emotion? Are you praying and crying out to God for direction? Do you know that your family is here pining for you and longing for you? Do you know how much you are loved and missed? I can’t tell you any of this, which is why I am writing this down so that one day you will know what your mother went through during this season of transition for the both of us. What the mother of a missionary experiences and feels. To be full of so much pride and joy and excitement, but also full of sadness, grief, and pain all at once.

We will get through this because we have Him. He will carry us through. He will give us the strength. He will comfort us when we are missing you so much our hearts actually hurt. I will pray to Him for you and for us. I will intercede on your behalf as you venture out to the mission field. I will be on my knees pleading on your behalf for safety and protection. I miss you, Son. I love you fully and completely and unconditionally. Do your work, but come home to us. Come home to me. This mother needs her son. I need to see you. I need to hug you. I need to know you are okay, but just come home.

Goodbye...Not Good?

Thu, 06 Jun 2024 23:29:46 GMT

Goodbye...Not Good?

I was 7 years old when Star Wars first came out in 1977 (yes, I am THAT old) and I was an instant fan. My love of the teddy bear-looking characters called Ewoks were my favorite. I remember one particular episode where the Ewok, Wicket, is speaking to his friend, Towani. Wicket says, “Goodbye. Goodbye.” Then Towani says, “Goodbye. Not good.” That phrase touched me in a place deep in my heart as a young girl, and it is a phrase I have still held onto all these years. Maybe because it’s true. Goodbye is not good, so why is the word “good” in there?

As a mother, the last thing we want to do is say goodbye to our kids. I knew that day would eventually come, but, boy, was I ill-equipped. For 18 years, I had been preparing my son to leave the nest, but I had neglected to get myself ready. How could I have let that one slip by? How foolish of me, really! It could have been because, so often, a mother’s needs are met last. We make sure everyone else in the household is taken care of and sometimes neglect to care for ourselves. Or, maybe it was because, subconsciously, I really didn’t want it to happen, so I kicked that can down the road and tried not to think about it.

The day we dropped Nick off in Georgia to begin his gap year on the mission field, I told myself to be strong, to try not to cry (yeah, right), and to have some parting words of wisdom as my final dialogue with my son face-to-face. Instead, Nick held a sobbing, snot-nosed, mess of a woman, who, when trying to speak, would only choke out words nobody could understand. Not quite what I had hoped for. I didn’t want my son to think of me as weak, but as a strong mother who could tackle hard things with a stiff upper lip and someone to be admired. I regretted the way I had conducted myself, but as the weeks and months went by without him in our home, I had time to reflect on that last day together.

One of the things I was able to voice as our family hugged each other was that our tears were actually a very sweet gesture. If we had just slapped each other on the back, quickly said goodbye, and went on our way, it would have meant there was little care taken at such an important moment. We were crying so hard because our love was so strong. We didn’t want to separate. We didn’t want to break up our family. We didn’t want to not be together. And in that, I realized it was good. It was good to love someone so much that the very thought of not seeing them broke our hearts. It was good to know our family has something special. It was good that we were sad and not happy to see one of us go. It was good that our bond was and is that strong.

So, yes, goodbye can be good because we realize the love involved. We get perspective on the goodness of family – our family. It was good because we wished Nick well as he departed from us. We prayed over him all good things: protection, adventure, purpose and fun. And, we looked forward to our reunion with him in nine months when our family would be complete and whole again. That hope that we clung to was good.

So, instead of being sad about goodbye, look at it as the end of one thing and the beginning of another. Something new could be on the horizon. Yes, change can be good. It can be healthy, and it can help us grow. Goodbye might simply mean “see you later” instead of something more permanent. Goodbye doesn’t have to be a bad thing, such as saying goodbye to some weight we have been trying to lose. Saying goodbye to cancer after months-long treatment. Saying goodbye to some debt that you have been able to pay off.

Once again, I think it comes back to perspective. A positive spin in any situation is the preferred route to go and ends up making you feel better in the end. So, next time you have to say goodbye and it’s difficult, shed the tears and appreciate that you cry so hard because you loved so much.

Whatever you do, don't cut your bangs

Wed, 29 May 2024 15:06:17 GMT

Whatever you do, don't cut your bangs!

You know when you are feeling depressed and you get the urge to do something crazy like cut your bangs? Yep. Been there, done that. My suggestion is, don’t! Hold yourself together and don’t call the salon. Don’t make the appointment. Just ride out the urge and it will pass! Trust me, from experience, it only makes the depression worse and you have to wait months for them to grow back. It’s not worth the anguish.

My son had shaved his head before leaving for the mission field. He was told the lice was bad in Cambodia and because he would be gone for 9 months, he wouldn’t be able to get a haircut. So, he grabbed some clippers and his girlfriend helped him do quite a big trim. This was a big deal!

My son’s hair has always been important to him. He takes after my husband who is Portuguese and has a great head of thick hair, so Nick was lucky to have a lot to work with (thank goodness he didn’t get my hair type, which is thin and fine). He started using my expensive salon products and would spend more time styling his hair than I did mine. Let’s just say he was attached to his mane and always made sure it was styled and perfectly coiffed. So, when he said he was just going to shave it off, I was a little shocked. But this was a new stage in his life and he was eager to take the bull by the horns. A new hairstyle seemed fitting for this next chapter. After he did it, I was amazed at how much more I could see his handsome face, his green eyes, and his forehead, which was always hidden under his thick bangs. He looked older and he was ready to conquer the world!

After he left us, I felt I could barely breathe. There were days I didn’t want to get out of bed and face my day without him. I was desperate for the sadness to end and figured some excitement might snap me out of it. Nick had changed his hair with this new season of his life, so why not join the party and do the same? It worked for him, so it should work for me, right?

I found some pictures on Pinterest, poled some of my closest girlfriends who knew the slump I was in, called my hair stylist, and jumped in with both feet. I hadn’t had bangs since I was a young girl, so this was a big shift in my appearance, but I was in adventure mode. My son was on this big crusade, so I was going to join him in some small way. Even if it meant matching hairdos.

Well, it has been almost 9 months now and I am still trying to grow the darn things out. The pictures on Pinterest looked beautiful, but I could never figure out how to style them like the models, so I ended up looking sadder than before I had decided to cut them. This didn’t help my self-esteem. My girlfriends and family tried to tell me I looked beautiful, but I knew they were just trying to boost my mood. This act of grasping at straws, running off the rails, and chopping my hair wasn’t the answer to fixing my sadness.

I came to the realization that I actually think I knew my role as mother was changing and with that change, perhaps, I was supposed to somehow look different. When really, a new haircut wasn’t going to take my pain away or bring my son back. My new role as a mom with an adult child living outside the home was now going to be permanent. I couldn’t go back. I had to figure out how to embrace the loneliness, the missing of my firstborn, bangs or no bangs. But in that, somehow, find the joy of having raised a man who was confident and sure of himself enough to start pursuing his faith and sharing it with others who didn’t have any. Isn’t that what we are all called to do? Isn’t that what I had raised him all these years to do?

So, Mamas, the hurt will come. It will be there and sting, and sting bad. But it hurts that much because we love that much. It seems like a bad thing, but it really isn’t. Loving that much is exactly what our kids need. To know we are still thinking of them and loving them from afar.

So, put down the scissors. Put away your phone and don’t call the hairdresser. Call instead on the One who you can always rest in and who will give you solace. He will carry you through. Open your Bible. Talk to Him. Pray to Him and share your heart. Cry out to Him. He can fill the void that is left when your child leaves. He can wrap you in a blanket of love that no one else can. As your child moves away, move closer now to your Abba Father who was always by your side as you mothered and parented your child. He was there carrying you on your hardest days of being a mother (perhaps during the terrible two’s stage or the moody teenager phase). Here is your chance to build a new relationship with your Savior. As we cry and pout that our children are leaving the nest and we don’t like it, I wonder if He looks at us like a toddler having a tantrum. As our Father, He lovingly comes alongside us to dry the tears and calm us down. We may not like it, but we have to go through it. We can stomp our feet and scream, or we can take a deep breath and turn our face toward Jesus letting Him lead the way to this next chapter of motherhood.

And whatever you do, don’t cut your bangs!

"I don't need you anymore, Mom"

Wed, 22 May 2024 18:54:59 GMT

"I don't need you anymore, Mom"

These words stung. Not only had I felt like I had been sucker punched in the gut, but I mostly felt like my son had stuck a knife through my heart. We had been discussing his upcoming departure from the home and all of the details that needed tending to before he left. As I was listing off to him all of the tasks still yet to be completed and the importance of staying on top of the list, he interrupted me and said “I don’t need you anymore, Mom!” I was utterly stunned and not quite sure what to say or do. My love language is words of affirmation, so this one phrase went straight to my core. It was an anguish that left my chest ripped open and me gasping for air. Shocked, I left the kitchen table and made my way upstairs. Once in my bedroom, I unleashed tears of sadness, dismay, and pain. How could he say such a thing to me? Did he have any idea how much him verbalizing that would crush me?

Well, let’s back up. I will admit, sheepishly, but honestly, that I am a planner by nature. It is a blessing and a curse at the same time. I like to have my calendar up to date, organized, and have plenty of time to prepare for upcoming events, deadlines, etc. To a fault, however, because when I have everything laid out just so, I don’t always leave room for flexibility if things should shift or change (which, realistically, happens all the time). In keeping it real, let’s just say what all of this is really about – CONTROL. I am about as real as it gets, people. I will be the first to admit it because I am so very imperfect and mess up all the time. A hot mess, I am. Throw menopause in there, and you have a real, big hot mess! I am a worrier by nature, so I assume that my wanting to be in control gives me some sort solace. Typically, unfortunately, I do this without consulting with the One who is really in control, God. Haven’t I learned after 53 years of age that He can handle things way better than me? It is a weakness that I struggle with daily and often spend time confessing to Him that, once again, I messed up because I was trying to play Head Honcho instead of leaving it to the expert.

So, here I was again with my son. I was afraid of what his leaving our home would look like, so I was frantically making a list of tasks and things to do to make me feel better about having a grasp on things (or lack thereof, really). With each item checked off, I felt like I was accomplishing something and could better handle what was to come as Nick hopped on a plane to travel around the world. He had decided to take a gap year and work with an organization called Adventures in Missions. So, instead of buying dorm sheets, text books, and college memorabilia, we had to acquire things like immunizations for him to travel to foreign countries, a backpack that he would live out of for nine months, and a tent for him to sleep in. While my other mom friends were buying coordinating dorm sheets and comforters, I was researching what bugs my son would encounter while in Cambodia. It was not what I thought my 18-year-old son would be doing after High School. I assumed he would be college bound, but the Lord had other plans for him, and I was surprised that He would not have consulted with this mother first to better prepare her! Ha! Like God would need my permission. How arrogant is that!

So, I did what I always do and started executing. My to-do list was long and I was ready to be the lead on delegating tasks and stating who would do what when. What it came down to was that I wasn’t allowing my grown son to take the lead on his own life. I wasn’t enabling him to learn how to do these things for himself that he was, actually, very capable of doing. He was excited for this next chapter and I was robbing him of that joy. Of leading himself. Of stepping up and taking the reins. Of being a man. When he blurted out “I don’t need you anymore, Mom,” I think what he really meant was “Mom, I’ve got this. Don’t worry. Let me be the one to handle this. Give me the list.” Instead, I received it like my job of being his mother was done and over. That was it. He had this and wanted me gone. And, I was heartbroken wondering how we got here and was his need for me really caput? What would my purpose be now if my role as mother was past?

Unsure, I prayed and I prayed hard. My Savior reminded me that with age comes wisdom. And, He gently brought me back to when I was 18 and wanting to strike out on my own. At that point in my life, I really felt like I didn’t need my parents anymore. That I knew it all and as an adult I could think for myself and make my own decisions. But looking back now as a grown woman, I realized how naïve that was and how I really didn’t know jack about anything. I made mistakes and wrong decisions, but I also learned and matured from those experiences, just like my son would do, as well. My mother passed away many years ago and, oh, how I wish she was still here. I have come to realize that we will always need our mothers, even if we think we don’t. Only when I became a mother myself did I fully grasp this, and I know my kids will one day come to understand this, too, when they become parents. So, I take a deep breath, try not to let that phrase my son said run too deeply, knowing full well that one day, after I am long gone, perhaps, he too will realize that he needed me all along. That there will be that special place in his heart for me and that all of that worrying, controlling, and planning I was doing on his behalf was done out of love because deep down, he really did need me. He just didn’t know it yet.

The to-do list eventually got taken care of, Nick headed out of the country, and was on his way to seek the Lord’s will in his life. And, for those nine months while he was away, God softened my heart to release the reins and let go. Let go of thinking I knew it all and that things wouldn’t get done if I didn’t take over. How wrong I was. For the last nine months, my son travelled the world without me, washed his clothes without me around, cooked without my help, and has grown in his faith without me by his side. And you know what? He did pretty darn well without me. He didn’t need me for those tangible tasks that I used to take care of for him, but my hope is that he still needed me somehow while he was gone. Perhaps he needed those texts from me every so often checking in on him. Maybe he needed to hear he was missed by me. Maybe he needed that scripture verse that I sent him out of the blue as encouragement. Perhaps he needed to know that he could always come home and that he has a family here ready to welcome him with open arms. Maybe he needed to hear from me “I love you and am so proud of you, son.” He may need me in different ways now and in the future, and whenever that is, I will be happy to oblige because I will always need him. That will never change. And, somewhere, deep down, it will hit him that he did need me all along when he hears one day from his teenage son or daughter “I don’t need you anymore, Dad.”

Grief

Wed, 24 Apr 2024 19:21:04 GMT

The definition of grief is this: The anguish experienced after significant loss, usually the death of a beloved person. Grief often includes physiological distress, separation anxiety, confusion, yearning, obsessive dwelling on the past, and apprehension about the future.

Grief may have to do with a physical death, but it is the “anguish experienced after significant loss.” That loss could be the end of a relationship, the end of a job, a transition in life caused by change, etc. There are so many ways that we can grieve and so many different ways to grieve depending on our personalities.

Something not quite talked about often in our culture is the drastic sense of grief that a mother experiences as she launches her 18-year-old child out from the nest. A nest that she has worked so hard to cultivate with love, protection, unity, harmony, and a deep sense of family. We nurture, teach, and direct. We love and we love fiercely. Yes, our job is to raise our kids to leave our home one day, but with that comes a sense of sadness that our home and family will never quite look the same way again. That our babies won’t necessarily be held in our arms the way they did for so many years leading up to this point. It is the realization that they won’t need us in quite the same way that they did before.

It is during this difficult season that we drench ourselves in what God has to say about grief and lean into Him as our hearts break from the change of our motherly roles. The bible says:

Psalm 34:18: “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”

Psalm 73:26: “My flesh and my heart fail, but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion forever.”

Matthew 5:4: “Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.”

Never once does the Bible tell us moms will go it alone on this journey. That we have to cry in private and try to pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps. No, it says He is with us. He will be our strength and our comfort, and that He is there with us as we cry and yearn for the children we have loved so deeply.

I will say that I did not handle my son’s leaving well. I was moody and agitated. If he wasn’t spending every waking moment of his free time with me, I felt shunned and disrespected. I wondered why he didn’t tell me he would miss me at all. I was sensitive and often had outbursts of either crying or lashing out because this was an entirely new experience for me and I wasn’t prepared for it. I thought I had failed as a mother because if he was wanting to leave the nest, it was because I had not provided a stable environment for him or a loving home in which he could take solace in. Had I not done enough to make this a safe space? Why would he want to leave this sacred dwelling that we had entitled Team Furtado? Until other wise women stepped in to remind me of the truth. That this is what young men are supposed to do. They are to leave and cleave and start a life of their own. They are to be spiritual leaders of their homes and men after God’s own heart. The fact that my son was ready to leave means I actually did do my job. He wasn’t running away because he hated our home or our family. He was beginning his new journey as a strong and confident man ready to face the world. My husband and I had reared him to be independent and that is exactly what he was doing – what the previous 18 years had prepared him for. So then, why was this so difficult even after that realization?

Maybe it’s that we don’t like change after all, even if we thought we craved it. Maybe it’s that we like to be in control and their leaving is out of our grasp. Perhaps it’s our pride that gets in the way and they choose a different path than the one we thought had been laid out for them. Either way, it all comes down to GRACE. We need to give ourselves heaping amounts of grace as we maneuver these new waters. Not only to ourselves, but also to our kids who are leaving. I told my son, Nicholas, that for him to be 18 and wanting to venture out on his own is normal, but that me having a difficult time letting him go was also normal. It meant that we had to have a double dose of grace for each other during this time. He was experiencing a change and so was I. They were both okay in nature and we just had to figure out how to be a team during the process and to not lose sight of what was really at the core – love. He loved his family and his home, but he was being called to the mission field and when God calls, you go. I loved our family and wanted to keep things exactly as they were. All four of us intact, in our home, in the usual way that our family had been run for 18 + years. But, do we really ever grow in our faith when things stay the same? Or do we forge ahead knowing God has us on a new path for us to trust Him more, to go where we haven’t gone before which can actually be exciting, and to grow in ways we never thought possible? The only thing I could do was embrace this new norm and hold on like crazy to the One who knew my heart and held it tenderly, even if it felt like it was broken into a million pieces.

So, I thought I would try to do something to get my thoughts and feelings out. I figured there were other women out there experiencing this new season as mothers and could use a friend along the way. Writing is therapeutic and if I could somehow vent what I was going through, it could help me unload. I could verbally process all of the deep emotions I was feeling and begin to heal. This blog is a way to not only help myself, but other mothers who are feeling the sense of loss after a child leaves home. You are not alone in your hurt. You are not alone in riding this roller coaster of highs and lows, joy and pain, and the wonderment of how we can still play a vital role in our children’s lives even if they aren’t under our roofs. Let’s journey together.

The Fierce Loving Mama

The Sweet Sound of You

The Sweet Sound of You

Tabula Rasa

Tabula Rasa

When Our Child's "Yes" is Our "No"

When Our Child's "Yes"

﻿ is Our "No"

The Furtado Four, Soon to be The Furtado Five

The Furtado Four Soon to be The Furtado Five

This Is Us

This Is Us

Death

Death

Til Death Do Us Part

Til Death Do Us Part

Our First Holiday Without You

Our First Holiday Without You

Serve Anyway

Serve Anyway

Get Yourself a Tribe

Get Yourself a Tribe

Laughter is Good Medicine

Laughter is Good Medicine

Don't Forget Your Armor

Don't Forget Your Armor

Chidren are their Mother's Muse

Children are their Mother's Muse

Hands Off, Hearts On

Hands Off, Hearts On

The Walking Dead

The Walking Dead

Mom Title

Mom Title

I needed an alignment

I Needed An Alignment

Day 12 Without You

Day 12 Without You

Day 1 Without You

Day 1 Without You

Goodbye...Not Good?

Goodbye...Not Good?

Whatever you do, don't cut your bangs

Whatever you do, don't cut your bangs!

"I don't need you anymore, Mom"

"I don't need you anymore, Mom"

Grief

is Our "No"