Convo’s with my momma:

I was sitting at my mom’s house. Sometimes we have errands to run or a to-do list of things but today we were just sitting there. I was curious, so I said, “Has life always been boring?” Now, don’t jump at me. I didn’t mean like boring “boring” but more like mundane. You know, days with nothing to do. I followed this up with, “you’ve lives a lot of life, has it always been like this?” We weren’t doing anything, so I was making conversation. lol

She just looked at me for a second and then said this:

Momma: I’m never bored. Life isn’t boring…. peaceful, at rest, at ease…sometimes. But not boring. Life is always in a rush. And some days you just enter the nothing and rest.

Me: “Good point!” Grammy (her mom) use to tell us kids when we would say, “IM BORED!” that is we had a brain in our head we could never be bored.

A song that surprised me:

This old guy singing this song – you can feel his genuine heart for God. This is his song that he wrote.

Enjoy! Sit back – close your eyes and listen like it’s your grandpa singing.

Parenting ponders:

At some point, you just get tired—tired of arguing, of trying to figure it all out, of wanting something to be different. And for many, when they reach that point, silence starts to feel like the only answer. Acceptance settles in—not the good kind, but the kind that says, “This is just how it is, and maybe how it’ll always be.” So they walk away, not because they don’t care, but because nothing seems to change. I’ve been walking that road. 

I’ve been praying, pondering, wondering, and asking God about all of this, I came to the same conclusion that many before me have: I have to take responsibility—for my thoughts, my words, my attitudes, and my actions.

A few years ago, my friend Lindsay said something to me when I was upset and venting: “What if you let his actions be his answer?” That one line stuck with me. Parenting is hard, people!

But over time, as I walked with that question, something shifted. As I watched what the answers were that were coming from my kid, I began to realize that my actions are an answer, too. I couldn’t ignore that. I had to take ownership of it. I started caring less about how others were responding to me and more about how I was responding to them. I began to extend more grace—not because they were easier to deal with but because one day, I’ll have to give an account to God for how I responded, regardless of what anyone else did. Thats easier for me with those outside my home than inside. 

At home I have had this bad habit of overanalyzing everything—every word, glance, or sideways comment. Especially when it came to my kid. I’d ask questions, listen to his answers, and then read into things that weren’t even there. I told myself it was because I wanted to help him learn, grow, and mature. The truth? I just wanted to be a smart, good, and attentive parent. But more often than not, it ended in an argument. Over and over. It was exhausting. Obviously, this was not the way to be those things. The fruit of this tree was frustrating and something had to change.

Eventually, it all came to a head. I mean—who wants to open up to a parent who acts like that? It was messy and painful. But we’ve been walking through a process of change—both of us.

Just the other day, I called upstairs and said, “Hey, everyone’s here.” He responded with, “Ok.” I could hear him talking, so I asked, “Are you on the phone?” He paused. And in that moment, I had a choice. My old self would’ve jumped in: I know you’re on the phone—why did you pause? Why don’t you just be honest? What are you doing? I said everyone’s here! Come on. But instead, I took a different approach. Gently, I said, “It’s okay if you are, I was just curious when you’d be coming down.” I let him into the rest of my thinking so that he didn’t have to try and figure out what I meant. We have a long history of baggage like that; it helps to just be open and honest about the motive behind. And in doing that, I opened up a bit of the backside of my thoughts to him, instead of trying to dig into his.

That one small shift said everything. It let him know he wasn’t in trouble—I wasn’t trying to control him. I was simply inviting him to be part of the moment. This subtle change created space for something better between us.

Here’s the truth I’m learning: I set the tone for how I interact with others, no matter how they respond. In Christ, I can choose to be full of grace. I can choose to extend mercy. And when others fall short of what I hoped for or expected, I can still offer them grace—and ask for mercy in return. Because I mess up too.

Thanks for listening,

Starla