Phnom Penh Pals: Team Helm in Cambodia

Having a second child has been good for me. I probably won't know how many words she can say at 18 months, but hopefully I'll know it doesn't matter. She will almost certainly go on to be literate and productive in society. I will probably let her eat refined sugars before her first birthday. I suspect her teeth won't fall out and she will continue to follow a normal growth curve. I am learning that most people don't care how many hours we all slept last night, and that my day goes better if I don't bother tallying those hours anyway. I've discovered my body, mind, and spirit are capable of functioning on much less than I previously felt entitled to own. Basically: life is not about me, my opinions, my neuroses, or even my family. These are good lessons, which I probably wouldn't have chosen to learn.  Having a second child has been good for my first child. He no longer thinks his preferences and requests must be immediately processed. He has already le

Facebook has an "On This Day" feature, which has recently brought me many smiles and just as many grimaces. Pictures and posts by others remind me how blessed I have been relationally and otherwise. Many of my own posts, however, seem to demonstrate how short-sighted, judgmental, and entitled I have been (and continue to be). And these are just the thoughts I was willing to publish  on social media. How many pettier, more inconsequential opinions have floated (or even been allowed to linger) through my mind over the years? I would like to think my short-sighted, judgmental, and entitled days are behind me. But honestly? I've come to similar moments of self-revelation at other points in my life, without much obvious improvement in my attitude or actions. Still, I can't help but wonder: wouldn't it be nice if nobody unfriended me in the future over a non-Gospel issue? Thinking about this pattern of failure, I am reminded of the following passage: "For th

Some days, I think having two children is not much different than having one.  Today is not one of those days.  In some ways, the newborn stage has been much easier this time around.  For instance, I can tolerate more than ten seconds of crying without wanting to cry myself -- which is a good thing, since I'm pretty sure Esther has cried more in the past six weeks than Josiah has cried in his entire life (despite my ability to perform all 5 "S"s simultaneously, while cooking dinner).  Additionally, we have accomplished a schedule -- a feat that I was unable to pull off in the first year and a half of Josiah's life, in part because I returned to work 10 weeks post-partum and was married to an intern.  I have more realistic expectations for myself (i.e. not hoping the scale will read my pre-pregnancy weight at my 6 week post-partum visit) and my family.  Experience is a beautiful thing.   But some days, having two equally precious and yet very unique individuals requ

Those huge brown eyes looked thoughtfully at me from the rear-view mirror as we pulled away from the playground. "Thank you, Mama." "Thank you for what, Josiah?" "Thank you for my playground, Mama." "You're so welcome, Josiah. I love you." I hadn't given him a playground.  I had only taken him there for an hour.  But he was so grateful.  My heart overflowed with love as I smiled at him in the mirror.  At that moment, I wanted to take him to the playground every day.  Three times a day.  It is so easy to give to someone who shows gratitude.  I wonder: is this how God feels when His children thank Him?  We all know people God seems to bless... and bless.. and bless.  Usually, these are people who trust Him explicitly, and thank Him profusely.  I want to be that kind of person, not so I can have more (I already have too much)... but so I can look up and see God's smile.   Which reminds me of Josiah's first sp