Mary Graham

Trusty Chucks Blog

thanks for a great summer, Amazon Prime

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I would just like to take a moment to thank Amazon for bringing everything I ever needed directly to my door and for the ability to never leave the house for anything.

This is not a drill; I would not be the well-rounded, competent, happy-ish person I am today without ye, Amazon. I would also not be as well rested.

This is only a slight exaggeration. Seriously, how did we live lives before Amazon and, more specifically, Amazon Prime?

Don’t answer that. I don’t want to be reminded. It was a dark time.

As I think about all the things that made our summer, I feel like half my time was spent telling people to buy something specific off Amazon that made my life easier/better/happier/less stressful/more organized/smell better.

Basically Amazon has improved my life and here’s what I bought so you can buy it to and improve your life also. Because nothing says fulfilled more than buying more crap. Whatever.

Wall tapesty
All the college kids and me are really excited about all the hippie tapestries Amazon sells. I had a big wall in my office I wanted to cover with something, so I ordered this guy and he arrived within a week. Hanging a tapestry on your wall will illicit a wide range of reactions from people, but stand firm in the knowledge you’re cool in your head and nothing else matters. *mental high five*

Lotta From Stockholm clogs
I’ve been wanting some clogs from this company for over a year. They’re a little too pricey for my budget though so it’s taken me a while to pull the trigger. As I get older (36 soon, suckers!), I’m slowly getting rid of cheaper, low quality shoes and investing in better, higher-quality, well-made, supportive footwear. (Read that sentence again and try not to think of your granny.) I’d rather have 3-4 really great pairs of shoes than 10-15 cheap ones that will only last one season. It was finally time to order these, but their website has some pretty expensive shipping charges (it’s actually coming from Stockholm, duh). I figured out what shoes I wanted and the correct sizing on their website then searched on Amazon for the shoe. Amazon doesn’t carry every pair Lotta From Stockholm makes, but they did carry the ones I wanted and it was free shipping with my Prime membership. So I ordered from there instead. They got here super-fast (the confirmation said 2-3 weeks, but they were here within a week) and I saved a lot of money on shipping. The Amazon price and the company’s prices were pretty comparable, but I was pumped to save the shipping cost with Prime.

Trader Joe’s Everything But the Bagel seasoning
I don’t have a Trader Joe’s near me but when everyone started sharing this seasoning on social media I had to try it. Amazon is weird because they sell so many things you never think to look for there (see: clog paragraph above)…like this specialty grocery store product. It’s is definitely a little more expensive than I’d usually spend on some food seasoning, but it’s amazing and I love it. No regrets. (Once you have it, put it on eggs, potatoes, cucumbers & cream cheese, bagels, green beans, EVERYTHING.)

Oil diffusers
Our family has used Young Living oils for about three years now (no, I don’t want to sell you any; no, I don’t want you to join my team, there is no team to join.) and one of my favorite things to do with oil is diffuse it. I have a diffuser in my office I turn on while I work. The girls each have one in their room for bedtime. In the winter when I’m sick, I bring one into our room. I love diffusers. But I don’t always love the price. Oils are expensive–I don’t need expensive things to put my expensive oils in. Gah. These diffusers are inexpensive, work really well for us, and don’t seem to need super-special filtered water to make them run well. Also, they’re cheap enough that if it breaks in a year or two, I’m not going to be choked up about it.

Wool dryer balls
Again, I don’t have oils to sell you or a class I need you to sign up for to learn all the secret oil voodoo. But I do like using oils in our home and the way we’ve gotten rid of some unnecessary chemicals. One unnecessary chemical I got rid of this summer is dryer sheets. I was tired of buying them, the artificial smell it left on our clothes, and always finding one in my pant leg on my way to church. So I bought a three-pack of these wool dryer balls to replace the dryer sheets. The box says they last at least a year, and I can use them as-is or I can add a drop or two of essential oils to them for scented clothes. I will admit they are LOUD and you’re well aware you’ve got some tennis ball-like objects in the dryer so if your office happens to be by the laundry room, you can’t dry clothes while you’re talking on the phone or teaching class. (Side note: if you’re interested in oils and overwhelmed with how much information there is about them, start with a diffuser and some wool dryer balls. Easy and low-key.)

Teal recorder
Apparently third grade is when all the blessed little children start learning how to play a recorder in school. Ellie is SO EXCITED for this. Her parents are LESS EXCITED for this. When we registered for school, parents had the option of buying one through school for $5 or supplying their own. You know I went to Amazon to see if I could get one for less than $5. Answer: yes, you can. Of course, I didn’t buy the less-than-$5 one though because they have so! many! colors! and I got excited and now Ellie’s getting a teal recorder. I’m still not excited about the at-home practice that is sure to come, but at least it will look cute sitting in its little holder full of spit.

Meal prep containers (reusable or disposable!)
I know you’ll probably ask why I don’t just buy some Tupperware from Target and call it a day, but hear me out. I LOVE these containers. I prep breakfast all week for myself (a knock-off version of the Starbucks boxes), put leftovers in them for Chris to take to work, share meals with my grandma, and take them when we travel. If I have the chance to wash them and reuse them, I do. But if they have to be thrown away, that’s okay too. You get a ton and it comes with silverware sets I didn’t even know about when I ordered them. I got them at the end of May, probably use at least one every day, and can’t recommend them enough.

Korean face masks
One night at bedtime, I asked the girls two things they were thankful for in relation to the new house so we could thank God for them in our prayers. Harper said new friends at school and living next door to Aunt Penny. Ellie said her own room and the new face masks I got in the mail. So I have to put these masks on the list even though I’m probably not as thankful for them as my super-weird daughter is. But they are enjoyable. Also, they make you look a little bit like a scary serial killer and that’s fun for everyone.

Rolling laundry hamper
At our old house, our laundry area was in the basement and no one ever saw it. It could be as messy and overflowing as we wanted and it was our little dirty secret. But now our laundry room is right inside the house if you enter from the garage. If you were to visit, you’d enter through the front door and never see it, but I get to see it every time I leave or come home. Oh, laundry, I loathe thee. Because of this, leaving baskets full of clean or dirty clothes drives me crazy. So I ordered this laundry hamper. It fits PERFECTLY inside the laundry room closet so I can open the door, throw towels-socks-whatever into the correct section (there are three total) and no one knows just inside that closet are all the things I should have washed a week or two ago. The best part is it’s on wheels and so I can roll it out, park it in front of the washing machine when it’s time to tackle it, and then roll it back in when I’m done. It’s the cutest, most organized I’ve ever been with laundry avoiding.

This maxi dress
If you follow me on Instagram, you’ll know when it arrived I wore it for nine days straight. This is not an exaggeration. Finally Chris gently asked if it was time to wash it. RUDE. Also, it has pockets and if you’re tall like me–it’s not too short! It’s a miracle! Buy it in all the colors! Wear it with a sweater for fall! (I ordered the gray one; since I’ve ordered it, they’ve added a sleeveless version. I don’t like than one–sleeves forever.)

A new bed and mattress
Here’s why this is so amazing: we don’t own a truck. So picking up any large furniture or home item after we buy it at a store is a mess. Can we borrow my dad’s truck? How do we get it here? Will this fit in our SUV? How many children should I leave behind to make this purchase happen? We’ve all abandoned a child for the greater household good but I don’t have many more to spare. So when we needed a full-size bed and mattress for Ellie’s room, I ordered them from Amazon. It did take a little longer than the two-day Prime norm, but still, the UPS man delivered them TO MY FRONT PORCH and I just had to drag them inside. (The specific full-sized bed frame and mattress we bought is linked above; I HIGHLY recommend both. That mattress is shockingly comfortable.)

School supplies
All of them, I don’t even have anything to link to. Back-to-school time is stressful enough without trying to ram my shopping cart down the three small school supply aisles with every other person on the east side of Indianapolis. Next year, I won’t even try it. Ordering all the supplies off the school’s lists and having them sent to my doorstep is what dreams are made of.

I would like to say that’s the end of my list, but it’s not. When I told my friend Krissy I was writing about my Amazon favorites, she asked if I was sharing a chandelier I got for Harper’s room. I hadn’t even thought of it. So I’ll probably do another Amazon buy list later (specifically to home goods I’ve purchases as we set up and decorate our new house), but for now, I’ve got to stop because the UPS man just pulled in to deliver my water filters. For real. Perfect timing, delivery dude.

Before I go–did you buy anything on Amazon this summer you can’t live without? TELL ME. I PROBABLY NEED IT TOO.

DISCLAIMER: AFFILIATE LINKS USED.

that’s the problem with lasts

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“If you’re sure, I’m getting rid of these,” Chris told Harper as he walked toward the garage holding her training wheels.

“Yep, I’m sure,” she replied.

It was a Thursday evening, after dinner, and before it started cooling off for the day. It felt sticky and humid after a few days of unseasonable cooler June weather. The girls were riding their bikes around the driveway when Harper requested her training wheels off.

In seconds, Chris had removed the small back wheels and Harper took off.

No hesitation. No fear. No stumbles. Her daddy held on to the back of her seat, took off running next to her as she peddled, and when he let go, she confidently rode to the end of the driveway, turned into the grass, and made her way back to us.

I didn’t realize that Thursday was the last day a Graham child would need training wheels.

We are officially done with trikes, training wheels, bike carriers full of sleeping children, and tiny, short legs pumping hard on a Big Wheel.

It was our last day with training wheels, and I didn’t give it the attention it deserved.

That’s the problem with lasts, you never know it’s actually the end until it’s too late.

Last month my grandma had her family reunion. We weren’t able to go–we were in Michigan camping–but the Kimery family gathered to catch up, meet new members, talk about their losses. And one big loss for our family was my grandpa. Last year he attended the reunion, ate the fried chicken, and laughed with the remaining siblings of my grandma.

Every reunion a Kimery child (like my grandma) will pose with her family, children and spouses, grandchildren and spouses, and all the great-grandchildren. For some, there might even be great-great-grandchildren. My grandma is one of twelve. That leads to big family reunions.

After the weekend was over, my aunt posted  this year’s family picture and last year’s family picture to Facebook. The glaring difference was my grandpa. His wide smile, his big ears, his huge personality.

I wish I would have known it was his last reunion. I wish I had known in one month he would be gone.

The days are slow, but the years are fast. I hate cliches, but there is truth in many of them.

Last Christmas as we gathered in Ohio to celebrate Christmas with Chris’ family, his uncle was taking a lot of pictures. Maybe more than normal. His daughter–Chris’ cousin–made a comment about it, saying something about how many pictures he wanted.

His response, quietly so the whole room couldn’t hear was well, you just never know.

We all stood for a beat longer than normal taking that in. Then we moved on with the holiday festivities. I felt it hard and tender–his comment–as we were wading through the first Christmas without my grandpa. As we were navigating Chris’ grandpa being moved to assisted living and having to be brought home for Christmas dinner.

That’s the problem with lasts, you never know it’s actually the end until it’s too late.

I don’t remember the last diaper I changed, the last bottle I gave my daughters. I don’t remember the last conversation I had with my grandpa, the last meal we shared together.

They weren’t important in that moment. They weren’t anything but another day in a busy week, another moment to get through so we could get to the end of the day, the meal, the task.

But they were lasts.

And I forgot to pause and acknowledge them. I forgot to remember them. I forgot to quiet for them.

Last weekend we sat on the curb in front of one of the two gas stations in our small town. As floats, tractors, and donkeys passed by in the annual summer parade, I pulled my hat down low and just cried. I cried for my grandpa who loved small town life, loved the people, loved the community. I cried for the day because last year, this was his last full day alive–the Saturday of Derby Days–and the next morning we were rushing to the hospital to pray and say goodbye.

It had been a year since he passed away.

When we moved here in January, my grandma told me my grandpa would have been so happy to know we moved here. He loved small-town life and, more specifically, this small-town life. She was sad he never saw this.

Sitting at the parade on Saturday, warm sun on my face and the sounds of kids screeching for candy as the floats passed, I couldn’t help but think of my grandpa. Those were his friends driving by on tractors. Those were his neighbors lining the streets. This was his community that came out in droves to stand in line for over an hour to pay their respects at his showing.

The last conversation. The last hug. The last laugh. The last meal. The last week. The last holiday. The last sleep. The last ride. The last time she crawls.

The last.

Growing up, I celebrated lasts. Lasts meant progress and maturity.

Now, I mourn them. Lasts hurt. Lasts sneak up on you when you’re least prepared and leave you different. Forever.

electronics + kids: how, where, why

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I never planned to be the parent who said judgey things like My kids don’t watch much TV or I don’t really let my kids play on electronics but here I am.

*awkward shrug*

Even though I believe strongly in limiting screen time in any form, saying it out loud makes me feel gross. I know all too well the shame or defensiveness that comes up when someone shares a different parenting or household philosophy than yours. I want to argue about it even though I know that’s not going to help anyone.

Also, so much of parenting is evolving and learning new ways of doing things as your children mature and grow. So this post can be tricky to write, because I don’t want to demand you live this way with your own kids or say it’s the only way to do it. Plus, how we’re doing electronics at our house didn’t just suddenly happen one day. Where we’re at right now–with our two daughters who are six and eight–has been a process and is still ongoing.

With all of that said, here’s how we do electronics, how we got to where we’re at right now, and some ideas to get your wheels turning on what this might look like in your home (now or in the future).

A typical week of screen time at our house follows this pattern:

-Sunday night family movie with dinner in front of the TV after the girls have had baths. I think Sundays are for resting and a quiet evening at home is a great way to reset before our week starts.

-Wednesday is early release day at our school so the girls are home about an hour earlier than normal. I still have work to do and so they’re allowed to watch about an hour of Netflix before we turn it off for homework, dinner, and playing.

-Saturday morning cartoons in their pajamas; I think it’s the right of all Americans to be lazy on Saturday mornings, to be really slow to get out of your pajamas, and to watch animals with human characteristics fight crime.

And that concludes our TV time; that totals about 3.5-4 hours a week.

We have a TV/DVD player in our SUV but only use it when we travel long distances. It’s one way we’ve been able to travel for days on end and survive; it’s a privilege and super-special to get to watch TV in the car so the girls are excited and engaged when they’re actually allowed to do it.

I feel pretty strongly kids shouldn’t be watching TV (or playing on electronics) as we run errands, drive to school, or head to church. Or even as we drive across town. My kids get to bring books, color, play with small toys, sing songs, listen to audiobooks, listen to music, gaze out the window at their surroundings, or…wait for it…SIT AND DO NOTHING while passengers in a car.

Being bored is part of being a kid. Kids NEED to be bored sometimes.

I’m not here to entertain them or to keep them entertained. It’s not my job–it’s actually their job! as kids! to figure out what they like to do! what they don’t like to do! what they enjoy!–and too much screen time for my kids dulls their sense of what they are capable of doing, thinking, creating, learning, enjoying because they don’t have to use much brain power in front of the TV.

But I had to learn this, not just hear it or read it. When Ellie was little, she watched a lot of TV. She watched TV in her high chair while I made dinner. She watched a show every night before bed as part of her bedtime routine. When I was pregnant with Harper and tired, it was easy and convenient to turn on the TV to get a break. Sometimes it was actual for her safety I turned on the TV because if she asked me one more question, I was going to hold my hand over her little mouth and probably put a tiny bit too much pressure on her cute little face.

I get it; it’s hard and more work for parents when you limit TV and screen time.

I picked this hard eventually, over time, but not from the get-go.

With electronics, my kids get about an hour a week. That’s not a typo, I said a week. My girls spend about an hour a week on iPads or tablets. Sometimes less. They don’t have their own devices (again, they’re six and eight), and I believe they have no business having their own technology at this point.

Our house (please don’t rob us…) contains many iPads, laptops, tablets, and iPhones. Way more than we need. But none of them are Ellie’s or Harper’s. They are Mommy’s and Daddy’s and we share with them. You know what kids need to own? Bikes, toys, some good markers, and clean underpants. Maybe a toothbrush.

They don’t need to own electronics unless it’s a super-awesome boom box with dual-cassette player.

Or something like that.

At restaurants, my kids have to wait for their food–hungry and impatient–just like everyone else. We don’t pacify them with apps or movies. They get to color on placemats or play with Legos they brought in from the car. They also get to talk with the adults at the table, listen to how people interact with each other, engage in conversations with people who are (hopefully) modeling how to treat people, listen to others, have a dialogue.

It’s hard to hear adults complain about “kids these days” when no one is actually paying attention to kids these days. They’re learning from whatever is in front of them, and I’d rather it be me than a screen.

I am fully aware my kids use electronics at school to learn, and I think that’s awesome. I’m sending my children to a public school I trust and I believe will make wise, informed choices about my children’s learning. I’m not against education software and apps, and we have them downloaded on our tablets at home. BUT.

Always a but, right??

Nothing they’re learning at this age is dependent on an app. It’s a bonus, not a requirement. So when Harper’s kindergarten teacher requested 20 minutes of Star Reader every night, we recognized the value of that app reading stories to our child. The bottom line was my five year old needed to be read to at least 20 minutes a day and we chose to do that with actual books in our hands, sitting on the floor in the living room.

For some parents, their season doesn’t allow this and the app is a way to make sure their kid gets read to. Awesome. For other parents, especially ones who aren’t good readers themselves, modeling critical thinking skills while reading is hard and the app is just better for their kid. Super. Great. This reading teacher approves.

But for us, that’s not the case. For us, it would have just been easier and more convenient.

I buy my groceries online, because I like the convenience. I don’t want to miss out on reading to my kid due to being inconvenienced. I have the time.

So we pickup groceries we ordered online, and we sit on the floor reading books with our kids even when we have other things we’d like to be doing.

(I think it’s important to admit I don’t always enjoy being with my children, reading to my children, or playing with my children. Yes, I know time is fleeting and I need to “soak up every minute” [NOTHING MAKES MY EYES ROLL HARDER THAN WHEN SOMEONE SAYS THIS ON INSTAGRAM. IT’S ANNOYING.] but sometimes…most of the time, there are other things I’d rather be doing. Being a parent means sometimes…most of the time putting my children first. They’re not a burden even though sometimes I act like they are. It’s actually just me being selfish. I acknowledge that. I am a selfish parent. [And do NOT get me started on “self care” and “me time” because that’s now what I’m talking about right now. Stop being dramatic.])

When the girls do play on electronics, it’s always out in the open family areas and never in their rooms. They have to tell us exactly what they’ll be doing and not venture to another app or website while they’re on their device. We’ve started conversations about internet safety and talk about what is appropriate to look at and what is not. We’re also starting to discuss how permanent the internet is; what we post will follow us for-ev-er. (Obviously, these are age-appropriate conversations for their current levels and will get deeper as they age. But it’s never too early. Let’s assume at some point, our kids will find something on the internet that is questionable. How they react to it or handle it is up to us at this point so we can’t ignore that reality.)

We went almost TV-free a little over two years ago. Until that point (when my girls were four and six), we had been unrestrained in our TV time. I wrote about that first summer with no TV here if you’re interested in my initial thoughts and struggles.

If your kids have been uninhibited in their TV or screen time, the first few weeks (…months…) are really hard. I know it sounds silly, but I suggest making a long list of things kids can do when they’re bored to combat the impending whining. It’s coming. For sure. When kids wants to turn the TV or iPad on and are told no, their little brains don’t even know how to come up with something else to do. In the beginning, help them out by giving them some specific options. Just saying “go play” doesn’t always work for my kids. Have options ready! The best defense is a good offense! (I don’t even think that makes sense here but I felt it was encouraging nonetheless.) Eventually, they’ll be able to do this on their own, but if they’ve been relying heavily on screens for entertainment, this doesn’t come back immediately.

If this post or our family’s routines are something that interests you, I take no credit for it. I’ve read tons of books on parenting, technology, raising kids, etc., had lots of conversations with friends/fellow parents, plus lots of trial-and-error that have all combined to give us this narrative. I know eventually the things I described above will change because my kids and their needs/maturity will change.

Books (some related to technology and some not) I’d recommend if you want to start processing through changing your kids’ screen time:

Bringing Up Girls by Dr. James Dobson (or Bringing Up Boys if that’s your gig; it’s not mine so I haven’t read that one)
Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother by Amy Chua
The Blessing of a Skinned Knee by Wendy Mogel
Free Range Kids by Lenore Skenazy
Bringing Up Geeks by Marybeth Hicks
The Year of Living Danishly by Helen Russell (not about parenting or technology, but about our culture versus others)

And a few I hope to read soon to continue the conversation on technology and screen time in our family:

Battlefield of the Mind For Kids by Joyce Meyer
The Gift of Enough by Marianne Miller
Irresistible by Adam Alter

What do you think? Have you read anything lately that changed your screen time thoughts? What works for your family?

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July 2017 Reads

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As I shared a few weeks ago, I’m taking a break from the Saturday Weekend Read book reviews. The main reason is I’m not making time to write the individual reviews, and I would start stacking up books to write reviews over, dread it, and then not write anything at all (even other posts) because I would see this stack of books waiting to be reviewed.

This is not the only reason I haven’t been writing recently, but it’s one of my many excuses. Email me for a list of my other, just as lame, ones.

So now I’m just writing a post to wrap-up what I read during a given month.

We’ll see how long this lasts.

July was full but relaxing. Is that possible? I got some good reading time in.

We Were Liars by E. Lockhart

Read this book. It’s YA fiction with an unreliable narrator and such a great twist! It started off a little slow, but when it finally got interesting, it got reallly interesting. The main character is a rich high school girl from a Kennedy-esque family on the east coast. Her and her cousins spend a month each summer with their families and grandfather on their own private island near Martha’s Vineyard. One summer something bad happens and Cadence can’t remember exactly what it was or why everything is so different now. That’s all I can say, but read this book and then tell me what you think! (I’m actually using this book as my first book club with students this school year, and I can’t wait to read it again with them.)

Kill You Last by Todd Strasser

This is the summer I tried to stop buying more books and made a pointed effort to work through my to-read list. It had gotten a little out of control and so I started requesting all of them from our local library and just working my way through them all. Kill You Last was on the list and I actually have no idea why. What I’m guessing is a student told me to read it. It’s a YA mystery-thriller book and sorta cheesy. It’s something I would have loved in middle school, but it was just silly as an adult. Give it to a middle level reader–but don’t bother with it yourself.

Pastrix by Nadia Bolz-Weber

Oh, man. This one is good. Really good. It was on my to-read list and I borrowed it from the library, but I liked it so much I want to buy my own copy so I can read it again and write in it. Bolz-Weber is an atypical woman minister in the Lutheran church. Her path to Jesus follower is broken and bumpy but it is so good. She doesn’t shy away from things she doesn’t understand, worries she has about our witness, and loving people the traditional Christian system has said we shouldn’t. I found a whole lotta Jesus and a whole lotta Jesus in this book. I highly recommend it for anyone who struggles with what Christianity looks like or questions what the Church is doing. This book will make you think even if every single thing she writes isn’t something you agree with.

The Chronology of Water by Lidia Yuknavitch

The majority of the time I read The Chronology of Water, I was afraid to tell anyone. This book is rough and, in a lot of parts, really horrific. Yuknavitch has had a really painful, horrible life that started with a father who sexually abused her and her sister. And from that place of absolute brokenness, she goes on a rampage of self-destruction. At times, I could only read a chapter and then I’d have to let it sit for a few days. What kept me going was Yuknavitch’s AMAZING writing and the hope that she could recover her life. I recommend this book but with caution. It’s hard to read the things she lives through and so many of the choices she makes as a young adult. This book is full of heartbreak and misery–but stick with it. It’s worth it.

The Aviator’s Wife by Melanie Benjamin

Historical fiction isn’t normally my jam, but I picked this up at a thrift store and it sounded interesting. The Aviator’s Wife is a fictional look at the life of Anne Morrow Lindbergh and her famous husband, Charles Lindbergh. It covers their unconventional marriage, the kidnapping of their first baby, their children, their adventures, and their struggles. The Aviator’s Wife is such an interesting book. The shadow Anne had to live in, the distant Charles who was never around, and the secrets revealed as his life nears its end are engaging and compelling. Reading this book makes you want to go get a biography of Charles and read more about Anne. Their story probably isn’t what you think it is. (If you like historical fiction, I’d also recommend The Paris Wife by Paula McLain about Hemingway’s first wife Hadley; these books felt similar to me.)

Read any good books in July? What are you currently reading?

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writing on the internet

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When we write on the internet, we–for just a moment–hold the power.

The power to make people think, the power to sway people, the power to anger people. We have lots of power.

A lot of the power, though, isn’t what we think it is. Because our words tell people who we are inside. What we fear, what we love, what we enjoy, what we hate. Nothing is ever as simple as it sounds or as easy as it looks.

I think a lot of what gives us power and authority is when we decide to not write something on the internet.

There is power in what we keep to ourselves.

There is power in what we learn without sharing.

There is power in what we enjoy for nothing else than the pleasure it gives us.

There is power in what we withhold because we love and respect others.

The mark of a good, mature writer in any arena (on a blog, Twitter, a website, Facebook, etc.) is being able to tell a story or teach something without damaging others.

Let me be the first person to say this is really, really hard. Telling a complete story without throwing others under the bus is difficult. Writing from hurt and brokenness without bringing revenge or personal vindication into the story takes maturity and restraint. It’s something you learn through trial and error, practice, saying sorry, tweaks in your approach.

Writing on the internet is dangerous and hard and not for everyone.

I’m not talking about myself right now. I feel that’s important to say. I’m not calling out my writing as good or bad at this. I’m just processing some things I’ve read, wondering how someone could be so immature in her writing, and trying to figure out how to not be that asshole on the internet.

The bad news is we’ve all been that asshole on the internet before.

The good news is we don’t have to stay the asshole.

Part of growth as a writer is acknowledging the power writing on the internet holds and that maybe withholding is where we’re most powerful.

If I can’t tell a good story without making others look bad, maybe I don’t need to tell that story.

If I can’t teach a lesson without telling you how awful someone else is, maybe I haven’t actually learned enough yet.

If I can’t make a point without tearing others down, maybe I should keep my mouth shut.

If I can’t write without leaving out parts to make myself look good, maybe I don’t need to tell that story.

This discernment is hard.

It’s also why I had to delete Facebook from my phone a few years ago. Nothing is more dangerous for me than quick access to an audience.

Time is always our best friend when it comes to writing on the internet, because if you give yourself some time and distance from what you’re wanting to post, you either lose the desire or you step back enough to re-evaluate the ways you’re writing.

It’s why I have to let a blog post sit for days–sometimes weeks–before I post it.

It’s why people have editors read their writing before they publish.

It’s why if you’re not sure, saying your comment or post out loud to someone is helpful.

If I’m writing about someone or writing to someone and I wouldn’t say the thing to them while standing in front of them, looking in their eyes, I probably shouldn’t be sharing it on the internet.

If I’m writing about something hard and it involves other people, I have to invite them into the writing decision. We are not allowed to tell others’ stories without their permission. This means sometimes I send something to a friend, and they ask me not to post it. This means when I write about my marriage, Chris has to read it before anyone else does and sometimes it doesn’t actually make it to the internet.

Writing on the internet is hard.

We’ve only been doing it for about twenty years–writing on the internet–and while we grew up learning social cues and norms from our parents, it’s like we didn’t realize those translate to the internet also. Making connections is hard, believe me, I know. I try to teach sophomores to make real world connections to things we’re reading, and they just don’t understand how that even works.

But if we realize how much of our real-life and internet-life are reflective of one another, maybe we’d write different things on the world wide web?

This summer, Ellie got a pen pal. She was so excited to have someone to write to and sent off her first letter the day she learned of her new friend. Letters went back and forth a few times and then things got busy–everyone was getting ready to go back to school and life happened. Her pen pal didn’t write back as quickly as she had before. (This sentence could also read: “Her pen pal didn’t write back as quickly as Ellie thought she should have.”)

After a few days, I told Ellie there was no reason she had to wait for a reply to write again; she was more than welcome to send her friend another letter; that was totally allowed.

She immediately jumped up from the couch and got to work.

Later in the day, I saw the note on my desk, waiting to be stamped and put in the mailbox. I opened the letter and all it said was, WHY HAVE YOU NOT WRITTEN BACK YET? -Ellie

I was alone at the time so I got to laugh out loud and read it about ten times before I had to put on my mom face and go have a little talk with my precious oldest daughter.

You can’t write that in a letter, Ellie. It’s kinda demanding and mean.

Maybe we all need to go back to elementary school and learn how to write a good letter. Writing on the internet is just like a letter or short note, but it’s going to be read by many more people than just the intended recipient.

The power we hold when we write on the internet is also great at backfiring.

When trying to make someone else look bad, it actually reflects more on us than that person.

Someone was rude to you and you shared it on the internet? Yikes, sounds like you’re kinda rude too.

Someone embarrassed you and you tried to embarrass them on the internet? Yikes, sounds like you’re kinda immature.

Someone hurt your feelings and you shared it on the internet instead of addressing that person in private? Yikes, sounds like you don’t actually want to heal, you just want to complain.

Someone didn’t respond to your letter as fast as you would have liked? Yikes, sounds like you’re kinda impatient.

I love the quote attributed to Margaret Thatcher that says, “Being powerful is like being a lady. If you have to tell people you are, you aren’t.”

There’s power in silence.

There’s power in thoughtfulness.

There’s power in the ability to speak and share but choosing not to.

There’s power in what you leave unsaid.

There’s power in writing on the internet.

Be careful with it.

Every good and perfect gift

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Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. –James 1:17

Hot coffee on a quiet morning before the house wakes up.

The sun.

Food from the garden filling our bellies for dinner.

The sounds of Harper playing school with her stuffed animals when she’s supposed to be asleep.

The smell of a new book.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

The hard, uncomfortable conversations that lead to understanding.

A Shopkins bandaid on a fresh blister.

Sharing a loaf of banana bread with visitors.

Correction, gentle correction, in the form of an overdrawn bank account.

Lunches with my grandma.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

Rest.

A new month on the calendar.

Those fifty minutes in counseling each week.

Clean bedding after a shower.

The end of an unhealthy friendship.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

A dog who doesn’t understand personal space when you’re trying to isolate yourself too much.

More coffee.

Being forgiven.

Forgiving.

When someone says, “I know it’s hard; I’m praying for you.”

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

Lightening bugs over a cornfield.

Getting out of bed.

A green chip celebrating sixty days.

Trusting Him when you’re too broken to trust yourself.

Three orange Popsicles after the girls are in bed.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

Friends who just sit with you, no need to talk.

Some more coffee.

Right now, in this moment, being okay.

A rug with fresh sweeper marks.

Water: by the glass, in a pool, from the clouds.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

Learning there is no such thing as a coincidence.

Laughing. Crying. Then laughing again.

The ability to eat the raw cookie dough and not get sick.

Those three minutes my girls play nicely with each other.

Beginning again.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

Hope, even if you can’t find words to explain why.

Every good and perfect gift is from above…

His good and perfect gift—His eyes, His heart, His glory. Not mine. Not this world’s. Not for my understanding.

…coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights…

God who created the oceans and the mountains and the stars—He’s in control. He knows what’s happening. He loves.

…who does not change like shifting shadows.

The constant Creator in a world that doesn’t stop moving, is never quiet, doesn’t understand consistency.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. –James 1:17

weekend read: The Spider and the Fly

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This is, for now, the end. I’ve felt it for a minute, but couldn’t figure out how to actually do it. The end of the weekend read book reviews. For a while, I’ve felt it was a chore to write the reviews. I would stack finished books on my desk but never get around to writing about them. I’d forget to take a book picture before returning a borrowed book to the library. I’d start to write a review and then never come back to it. I dreaded having to write a post about a book I read. It took me longer than I’d like to admit to realize I don’t have to write them. This is my blog! I can do whatever I want! I don’t have to write book reviews! No one is the boss of me here! *leprechaun kick* For now, I’ll still be sharing books I read on my book Instagram account. What I imagine happening is maybe a monthly rundown of what I’ve read with just a short blurb about a book as opposed to a whole dedicated Saturday post. Who knows if that will actually happen or not. But for now, it’s goodbye weekend reads. Will they be back later? Will this go to the remember when? section like outfits posts and how-tos? No. One. Knows. 

Gulp. This book is super creepy.

The Spider and the Fly by Claudia Rowe is a true-crime story of a serial killer and the reporter who tries to figure him out. I need to start with saying, I’ve been listening to the My Favorite Murder podcast and apparently I have a morbid curiosity with murders. Do with that what you will.

So when I came across The Spider and the Fly at my local library, I added it to my stack without hesitation. The night I started reading it, I woke up at 3 AM absolutely terrified, sure someone was in my house getting ready to kill me.

Now I remember why I don’t read scary stories.

But still, this book memorized me. Rowe explores serial killer Kendall Francios’ life, reasons, and history to try and figure out what leads a man to become a serial killer. But Rowe doesn’t keep her distance from the story, she makes it personal, crossing lines reporters are told not to, and the story becomes about her redemption as well as Francios’ unraveling.

I couldn’t stop reading this book. It’s creepy and chilling and horrible. The Spider and the Fly by Claudia Rowe asks whether serial killers are truly human and relateable to all of us and the answers she finds will scare you. Read this one, but only with the lights on in the middle of the day. Okay, thanks.

Purchase a copy of The Spider and the Fly by Claudia Rowe here.

LOVE TALKING ABOUT BOOKS? ALWAYS LOOKING FOR A GOOD BOOK TO READ? WANT TO KNOW WHAT I’M CURRENTLY READING? FOLLOW MY INSTAGRAM ACCOUNT DEDICATED TO ALL THINGS BOOK-RELATED: @THEMARYGRAHAMREADS.

pretty pictures and rotten air

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As we explored Yellowstone National Park last summer, I was struck with how nature-y it is.

Let’s pause and let that deep, well-written sentence sink in:

Yellowstone National Park is very nature-y.

Man, I’m good.

Here’s what I mean: so much of Yellowstone is overgrown, dead, and unattractive. Sure, you have the well-maintained, easily accessible, and beautiful popular, touristy parts, but off the beaten path things are less picturesque. There are dirty parts, parts you don’t want to take pictures of. There are fallen trees no one is interested in clearing away. There are dead animals rotting under bushes. There are obstructed views and burned out sections.

It isn’t all pretty and breathtaking. Some of it is gross.

Yellowstone National Park is overwhelmingly huge. We were there four days and felt we didn’t even see ten percent of it. When I pictured going to Yellowstone, I only imagined the parts I’ve seen on TV, the parts covered in magazines and online. The pretty parts.

I was kinda shocked at how much death, destruction, and decay we found in the park.

I see a lot of myself in Yellowstone: the contradiction between beautiful and ugly, life and death. The picturesque parts where things look magical and the underbelly of gross decay and death.

In the Old Testament, because the Israelites were that contradiction too, they couldn’t come before God. They were dirty and unclean–everyone knew it–so they had to have others go to God on their behalf. They had to bathe correctly, be ritually clean, not have had their periods for so many days beforehand. They had to clean themselves up before going to God. They had people, the Levite priests, who could do their bidding for them, making it easier to bring their sacrifices, their offerings, their praises.

The good news is we don’t have to do that now. I get to come to Jesus dirty, broken, and full of decay. I don’t have to pretend it’s all perfect and happy. I can come to him hurting, dull, and dead. I don’t have to clean up the outside while I’m dying on the inside. I get to allow my outsides and insides to match. I get to say I can’t do this on my own, I need help, and He’ll jump at the chance to bring life to me.

He isn’t shocked by the mess. He isn’t confused by the decay I have under the surface. He’s been in it the whole time. He’s been waiting for me to cry out.

Yellowstone has these huge hot springs. They are beautiful to see, the way nature has created out-of-this-world colors in the middle of the wilderness. But the pictures we see don’t share the whole story. What you also get when you visit the hot springs is stench. The heat, the water, the sulfur–it’s a little overwhelming and overpowering. This visually beautiful piece of earth is actually really, really stinky. Imagine boiled rotten eggs.

So you’re walking along these wooden paths build above the hot spring, taking breathtaking pictures to show off on social media and to print for the scrapbooks while trying not to breathe too deeply. There’s beauty and there’s stench. There’s picturesque and there’s rotten death.

That’s me.

For so long, I tried to clean up the mess on my own. I can handle my business. I know answers. I have solutions. I have a plan. I have a list. I have a savings account.

But then things started to happen that were completely out of my control.

Things I couldn’t handle.

Other people’s messes I couldn’t contain.

Questions I didn’t have answers to.

Things not on the plan or the list.

Problems my bank account couldn’t help.

Suddenly I couldn’t keep all the pieces together, I couldn’t keep the pretty-picture facade going. There was too much death and destruction and mess seeping through. Things were starting to get stinky. People were starting to notice.

And so I stopped trying.

Surrender sounded like defeat, but now it feels like freedom.

I don’t know the answers.

I can’t contain these messes.

I don’t know how to handle this situation, my broken heart, my messy, messy life. I can’t fix the broken people around me.

I think we need to be more honest about Yellowstone. The guidebooks need to mention the horrible traffic you’ll encounter in the summer, the hours you’ll spend looking for parking, sitting in traffic jams, and trying to get into the park. They need to advise you to watch out for dead animals and tell you about all the animal poop you’ll walk through. They need to tell you about the crowds, the road construction, and the burned out sections from forest fires.

Yellowstone isn’t always pretty.

I think we need to be more honest about our lives. We need to be more vocal about the disappointments, the middle-of-the-night fears we can’t quiet. The death and destruction we’re encountering, the shit in our way. We need to talk about the detours, the blocked paths, the broken people. The ways we don’t have it all together. We need to discuss the fires raging that feel overwhelming and encompassing.

Our lives aren’t always pretty.

In the Old Testament, time and time again we read stories of destruction and rebirth. God allowing something to be destroyed, something that was causing pain and sin and distracting His people from Him. He destroyed cities, families, people groups. He took away safety and security, vineyards and armies, to show His people who He was, who they should put their trust in, why His way was better.

But He never left the destruction forever. He always allowed rebirth. He allowed new growth. He allowed better cities, stronger families, wiser people groups to spring up where only rot and ruin had been. He let fires roar and destroy, but then He made beauty from ashes.

The hard part for me (not for God, but for me) is the waiting. The waiting for the rebirth. The start of hope again. I’m sitting in the destruction, in the ash. I’m sitting in the underbrush filled with rotten leaves, animal carcasses, and lots of poop wondering where we go from here. How do you make good from this mess? What does Your good look like? How do I recalibrate again and again and again?

Yellowstone is very nature-y. Life is very messy. Both are dirty and beautiful and not what I expected.

weekend read: My Husband’s Wife

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Oh my goodness, this book is so twisted and dark.

Sometimes when I go to find audio books on our public library’s site, I get frustrated because all the books I want have a waitlist, and I don’t like to wait for things. It annoys me that all the books I want to read are also wanted by other people. LAME. So I put my name on a million lists and then just start clicking other titles they recommend out of fear of never getting an audio book checked out…and that’s how I ended up with My Husband’s Wife by Jane Corry. (Side note: without fail 3-5 books I’ve been waiting for FOREVER will all show up within a few days of each other and then I have to hold marathon listening sessions not from joy of reading, but fear of losing the book and going to the bottom of the list again.)

ANYWAY. Back to My Husband’s Wife. Gah, this book is dark, dark, dark. If you like psychological thrillers with twisted endings, this book is for you. (And the audio book is read by a woman with a British accent which makes the story that much better, truthfully.)

The story centers on Lily, a self-conscious, unhappy woman who meets and marries a man within a few months. There are problems from the beginning, but you think they’re her issues and not his. As the story switches from present-day (someone is covered in blood and dying–we don’t know who) and the past (Lily’s life as a criminal lawyer), the reader begins to understand the choices that have led Lily to unknowingly make moral choices that will affect her life and those around her forever. By the end of the story, one person is dead and two are in jail. Goodness, this book is messed up.

I loved it and it was highly engaging. This would make a great vacation read, you’ll be hooked and won’t want to do anything else until you get to the end so leave room for lots of reading when you start this one. My Husband’s Wife by Jane Corry is enjoyable and chilling.

Buy a copy of My Husband’s Wife by Jane Corry here.

LOVE TALKING ABOUT BOOKS? ALWAYS LOOKING FOR A GOOD BOOK TO READ? WANT TO KNOW WHAT I’M CURRENTLY READING? FOLLOW MY INSTAGRAM ACCOUNT DEDICATED TO ALL THINGS BOOK-RELATED: @THEMARYGRAHAMREADS.

let’s demand Jesus

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There’s a rhythm to a church service.

Each church is a little different, but overall, there is a schedule for singing, a time for the message, an intentional break for communion and meditation. Each component has its time and its place. People like consistency and church is one of the places that obliges.

In the majority of churches, you don’t interrupt the sermon to demand to be baptized. It’s not the appointed time. It’s not on the schedule. It’s unexpected.

But that’s exactly what my grandpa did.

I wasn’t there. It wasn’t at my church. I didn’t even know this story existed until after my grandpa had passed away. My aunt told me.

My paternal grandparents weren’t church people. They didn’t go to church on Sundays, didn’t make an effort to show up for Easter and Christmas to get their obligatory church in. They weren’t interested. They didn’t put much stock in God or Jesus or Christians. It seemed unnecessary, too fussy, too many rules.

But in their seventies they bought Bibles, put on some fancy clothes, and started going to church with my aunt. I don’t know if it was fear of death and the unknown, resignation after a life of quietly protesting Jesus, or a butt-kicking from the Holy Spirit (I’d be willing to guess it was a good mix of all three), but they wanted Jesus in their old age. I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t a little shocked when I heard they were going to church, that they owned Bibles, that they were reading them.

It seemed out of character.

One of my favorite things about Jesus is the absolutely crazy, over-the-top ways He shows Himself. The way He surprises those who think they can’t be surprised, those who think they have things figured out. I love that my God is creative, loving, and writes the best stories. He is the Author of All and loves the unexpected thrill of a plot twist better than anyone.

My grandparents loving Jesus was a major plot twist.

When I was younger, my grandma made Easter dresses and Christmas dresses for me, my sister, and all my cousins. She helped us get ready for Christian holidays with ruffles and lace, poofy dresses and matching hats. But she never joined us at church. She never celebrated with us. My grandparents never (to me, at least…) said church and God was wrong, but they were not interested.

But seventy-something years in, they decided they were.

They had been going to church for a while one Sunday when my grandpa, in the middle of listening to the sermon, decided he needed to be baptized. I don’t know what the message was about or what he heard that made him react so strongly, but my grandpa realized suddenly he needed Jesus and he wanted to be baptized.

So he stood up in the middle of the minister’s message, interrupted the lesson, and demanded to be baptized right then.

Demanded is the absolute best word for the above sentence. He demanded to be baptized. He didn’t ask. He didn’t quietly talk to the minister after service. He didn’t go home to consult friends and family. He didn’t wait for the appropriate time in the schedule. He didn’t fill out a comment card asking for someone to call him. He didn’t wait for the invitation hymn at the end of the service. He needed Jesus right at that moment.

He could not wait to be baptized.

After seventy-odd years, his need was urgent and immediate.

I want Jesus like that. I want to hear His stories, see His grace, and understand His mercy in such an overwhelming way there is not even time to think what would be socially acceptable. I want to react before I worry who might see or what someone might think. I want eyes on Jesus and no one else in my periphery.

I demand Jesus.

I am desperate for Jesus.

Sorry if that seems pushy, but I’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain.

I need Jesus. I need Him to interrupt my schedule, get in the middle of my plan, and prompt movement and reaction to His love in inappropriate times, when it’s not on the agenda, when it seems like bad timing, when it’s not convenient.

My grandpa was sinful and flawed. He hurt people, sometimes intentionally and sometimes not intentionally. He was selfish and mean. He was not always honest. He was sad and angry and hurting. He was demanding in lots of areas of his life.

He was exactly like me.

He was exactly like you.

But the difference–where things changed for him–was when he realized he needed help. Help from the Ultimate Helper, the Redeemer of Broken Things, the Healer of All Wounds. My grandpa realized doing it alone wasn’t working for him anymore, and he demanded help. Immediate, live-giving help.

And so they baptized him.

My grandpa became a Christ follower, a son of the Living God in a small brick church on a Sunday morning when it wasn’t convenient, planned, or appropriately-timed.

I bet God wishes we were more like my grandpa in that way. More Holy Spirit spontaneous. More Jesus-reactionary. More God-led than schedule-led.

Can you imagine what church and life and our world would look like if we stopped paying so much attention to what’s next on the plan and started being more Spirit-prompted?

I think there would be more dancing in the streets like David.

I think there would be more feasts and celebrations like the Israelites had when they finally made it to the Promise Land.

I think there would be more people in our homes and less loneliness.

I think there would be more Rahabs taking in strangers not even sure why other than because God told us to.

I think there would be more Isaiahs speaking out against destructive living.

I think there would be more honest conversations and better understanding.

I guarantee there would be more Jesus followers.

///////////////////////////////

Today is the third anniversary of my grandfather’s passing. It seems the older I get, the more I want to know family members who were always around but I never paid much attention to. Because I was young and dumb and distracted. Because time doesn’t mean much when you think you’ve got plenty. But now–and especially as I’m reading through the Old Testament and I see how inter-related we all are even generations removed–I want to know my grandparents. What made them who they were, who they are. I want to understand their choices, their lives, what lead them to their places. I see more similarities between us as I get older: as a parent, as a child, as a friend, as a human, and the realization grounds me. Who I am is because of them. Not just in a biological, you-had-my-parents-thanks-for-that way, but in a way that explains my struggles, my characteristics, my joys. We are more alike than different. I just wish I had realized that sooner.

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