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Author Archives: Bonnie Lyn Smith

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About Bonnie Lyn Smith

Like anyone else, I have worn many hats: editor, speaker, columnist, Sunday School teacher, prayer warrior, traveler, depression fighter, child advocate, dance/band/robotics/karate/basketball mom, coffee server, foot-in-mouth socially awkward person, and, most recently, author. I hope, on my better days, I am mostly servant of Jesus, loving wife and mother, and devoted friend.

Squeezing Lemons: When Help Isn’t Helpful for Everyone

Squeezing LemonsThe other morning my tween daughter came downstairs to report her difficult time getting to sleep the night before. She had recently sold her daybed to make her bedroom more of a study/hangout pad. Knowing my husband was in the middle of creating what is currently transitioning from a fictitious to real full-size loft bed for my oldest son, she figured that eventually his woodworking gift would benefit her as well, so she settled into decorating the top bunk of my younger son’s room to be more chickie-like, assuming the room-share situation would be tolerable in the short term.

As it turned out, she was wrong.

My youngest son (who struggles to turn his mind off at night) had recently started listening to a relaxation CD. (I had listened to it first to make sure it wasn’t sending him subliminal messages to eat cookies in the middle of the night, find inner peace in his belly button, or pretend he could fly like a superhero. Thankfully, it had passed my test.)

What I wasn’t thinking about on my dry run with the CD was what such a “tense-it-up-now-relax-it” storyline would do to someone without anxiety.

Yeah, I didn’t think about that at all.

As I set out breakfast, my angst-ridden daughter vented about her experience with the CD, up-bunk the night before from my son who was getting his calm on—

—and it wasn’t pretty.

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What Blessing Is in Your Fort?

What Blessing Is in Your Fort?

I came home the day before Mother’s Day from a long-overdue visit with a friend. We had a lovely time as she introduced me to her favorite chocolate shop in Cambridge. I enjoyed an iced milk chocolate (yes, indeedy—that specific!) mocha with the purest chocolate I’ve ever tasted. It slid down my throat like silky cocoa sweetness with a “Yippee!” as it landed. It was vacation in a cup.

We tooled around a bit, stopping in a naturals store where I picked up a ginger lotion and peppermint essence for my sinus headaches. I don’t usually spend that kind of time shopping for me; it was so incredibly soothing: talking with my sweet friend, walking around in the beautiful sunshine that decided to stay in Boston for a while, and even taking the T, with its rocking rhythms as it jerks forward and later glides to a halting stop.

It was a sensory delight in every way: scents, sounds, sun, smooth mocha intake. I got my peace on in a big big way.Iced Mocha And then—then I came home to… Read the rest of this entry »

 

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He Meets Us at the Rails

Where Is God When We Go Off the Rails

[This blog was first a featured column at Your Tewksbury Today on Mother’s Day.]

I thought about writing a Mother’s Day piece. I really did. But as awesome as that sounded to me, it ruled out so many people. I appreciate these Hallmark holidays in some ways, but I also know that for many, days like today can be difficult reminders of dreams yet unfulfilled or even crushed, or of family relationships that haven’t been or aren’t what they should be. Without going into the many manifestations of that, I wanted to address the pain, frenzy, panic, and weariness out there today. I’m going to lay it bare.

We may not all have our Sunday best on, with a handful of flowers, reservations at the local restaurant, gifts on the counter, and a trip planned to see family. Maybe this week was full of pulling ticks off kids, walking in late to that work meeting, facing three days of piled dishes at once, a car that wouldn’t start, a kid who mouthed off, a relationship that looked like it was heading toward marriage and abruptly broke off, a bad job review, a betrayal of some kind. Maybe it was an argument with a loved one, a bad report card, a miscommunication with your spouse that doesn’t feel like any “Hallmark moment”—or holiday, for that matter—that you’ve ever experienced before.

Mother or no mother, maybe your week doesn’t feel like walks in the sunshine and tea with biscuits.

Maybe your week chewed on some rocks, spit them out, and crunched down on them again.

Let’s be honest: Sometimes, we simply go off the rails.

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What Your Mom Really Wants for Mother’s Day

What Your Mom Really Wants for Mother's DayJust as I was wondering: “What will I write for Mother’s Day?” my friend Tammie Wommack sent me a message that she wrote a piece communicating what her heart wants to say to children and mothers out there about what’s really important on this Hallmark holiday. You see, Tammie has known the incredible grief of losing a child, and as her head comes up from feeling shoved under the water for so long to catch some air, her perspective brings tremendous clarity. As I was about to get this piece up on the blog site, Tammie messaged me one more time with her overriding heart’s cry:

“Moms want their kids to let them know how they’re doing as a mom. I so wanted reassurance when Joshua died that I had been a good Mom.”

I’m so grateful God put this on Tammie’s heart this Mother’s Day. She has allowed herself to be a vessel to bring hope, love, and strength to others on what is surely a painful holiday. I just love that she is willing to serve us through her very difficult walk in life.

[Please know that Tammie and I both recognize that not every mother has been who she needed to be with the call on her life to nurture a child. We know that some women out there miss their mothers who have already passed from this life. We acknowledge that some women are yearning to be moms and have their dreams yet unfulfilled. Some ladies may be waiting for rebellious children to show their appreciation, and it looks to be a long wait. While we acknowledge these very real and difficult situations, we also agree that there are other women in our lives whom God gives us who could benefit from Tammie’s “make the time count now and show your love” message. If Mom (or being a mom) isn’t your reference point, may I suggest you read this with an influential person in your life in mind. I just know you’ll be blessed. And if you’ve known the incredible heartache of losing Mom or a child, take some peace, healing, and comfort from what Tammie has to say. It’s for all of us, really.]

And here again, amazing us with her joy and deeply rooted wisdom, is Tammie…

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The Bridge of Transition

The Bridge of TransitionAs my youngest child was getting ready for school, I had an e-conversation with my sister-in-law. As I often do when I am reading someone’s story, I tried to imagine what it’s like to have one child graduating high school this year and another one doing the same a year later. I could picture it, but it was surreal to me. It’s not my current transition. But it is hers.

My whole year has been an extended transition: One child entered high school while one started middle school. Every day, I switch gears between fellow high school-er parents talking about student drivers and SAT prep and the typical middle school concerns of “mean girls” and safe texting guidelines. Meanwhile, I’m still in the “playdate” phase of raising my third child.

Some days, all I seem to do all day is transition: at-home responsibilities, writing, arranging appointments, taxi driving, counseling the one quickly approaching adulthood, and navigating the social wrecking ball that is middle school. (I’m convinced that once you survive middle school, you have the thick skin needed to go directly into the military or a career in psychology!)

As I write this in the early morning, coffee half-consumed, my iCalendar keeps popping up with new band performances and rehearsals. It’s comforting to “hear” from my oldest son, if even through a brief data entry about yet another place I have to drive him.

Maybe this title should be about interruptions and not transitions, but wait!

Aren’t they often the same thing?

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Licking Laptops—and Other Things in Our Way

Licking Laptops—Nothing quite says “laptop” like the local coffeehouse. It’s one of my favorite places to flip that puppy open and work on social media marketing, read articles about the publishing industry, check out a new profile on LinkedIn, or pin that recipe. I’ll admit, when I’m “taxi parent,” I flip it open more frequently at the karate dojo, in the car outside the dance studio, or at the occupational therapist’s office waiting on my son.

But I was at home one day when I started settling into a good writing groove in my favorite-and-very-old IKEA chair, feet propped up on the ottoman. Suddenly, I heard some slurpy noises. As I peered around the screen of my laptop, it turns out that the Almighty Glowing Apple was getting a good lick on the other side of my creative mind flow.

I hadn’t even noticed my Shih Tzu Delilah by my feet showing her puppy affection for my MacBook Pro. She has a way of claiming space on the ottoman like a stealth fighter pilot. (Meanwhile, her brother Samson was on his bed, as usual, sending peaceful snores into the air to a rhythm that sounds so much like “Billy Jean” that I keep looking for the trademark white glove. Pretty sure I saw him slide backward with each snuffle, though.)

My dogs would lick every inch of our arms, faces, feet, etc., if we let them. There are several different reasons why dogs lick. I think my dogs primarily show affection that way.

But, why, oh why, did my 12-pound Shih Tzu lick my laptop?

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Heaving Broken Relationships onto His Altar of Peace

Heaving Broken Relationships onto His Altar of PeaceAs often happens when there are more than two minutes of quiet in my house (I didn’t say that quiet was often, though), I was reflecting on some relationships in my life that have been healed—and those still in the waiting place. I must be growing up because I find myself stressing less over what I don’t understand. Let’s face it: There are a lot of human communications I don’t understand. Really, I think I read my Shih Tzus better than people some days.

The only One to have the real perspective of both sides of a relational pain is God. Even if the other party explains it to us over coffee for two hours or phone calls for three days, there just isn’t enough of our selflessness to be able to get out of the way and walk fully in the other person’s shoes. Only Jesus, the Suffering Servant, felt everything we feel (the pains, sickness, and sins of all humanity) on the cross.

Isaiah 53:5, ESV, Isaiah the Prophet speaking

But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed.

Over the course of my life, I’ve had a hard time letting close relationships fizzle out, get stuck, be left in the Pride Place. Does that mean I live in perfect peace and never marinate in my own anger? No. But as tempting as it can be to just trot off and leave a mark of pain on someone who has hurt us, even passive-aggressively by going silent—Know folks who do this? It’s its own art form!—I take relational fail very seriously.

You know what I’m finding out?

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Choosing to Be Intentional

Choosing to Be IntentionalLately, I was thinking about how much I love my hairstylist.

Because she does my hair so well? Well, she does, but that’s not why.

Because she offers kindness and seems to enjoy the challenge of shaping my mangled mess of thick, wiry waves? Well, that’s awesome too, but that’s not it either.

Because, quite simply, she lets me in.

She talks to me about deep subjects. She shares her mama angst and desire to raise a good son. And she lets me see glimpses of that beautiful Spirit God gave her…that heart she is letting Jesus shape.

I absolutely appreciate that we can talk about matters of faith together, but the reason I carry her around in my heart is more than that.

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Let God Be Your Handhold to Joy

I had a silent prayer on my heart this week. I had about three topics in my head to write about but no time to write them. And then in came this blog from my sweet friend Tammie. I had literally just tweeted a former blog of hers about joy 30 seconds before her message arrived in my in-box. What provision! Right on time!

Tammie has contributed several times to Espressos of Faith this year. I consider her part of the blog team. I believe so much in what she writes about that I have given her blog topics a board on my Pinterest page and regularly remind people on social media of her articles. She writes to bring hope, healing, and joy to those with child loss of any kind, sharing her particular journey of loss (to suicide), but what she writes is for all of us—because there is always someone out there hurting who needs us, and because we all know pain, sorrow, and despair from time to time. Tammie is an incredible encourager who wants to honor the life of her son Joshua by ministering to and loving on hurting hearts out there. She is an amazing vessel used by God to reach some of the most painful places a parent could ever go.

If this touches you, please leave a comment for Tammie. She genuinely wants to connect with you. And feel free to share, tweet, and pin her encouragement so others can read about finding joy again too.

Here’s Tammie…
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Why Accepting Help Builds Community

Oh my goodness! Did I just type the words “accepting help”? Did that make some of you cringe? I’m unfurrowing my brow right now as I read over it. It makes me want to scurry like a scared mouse into the nearest hole in my relationship wall and hide in the sideboards.

Why Accepting Help Builds Community

But what are the sideboards, really?

I would like to suggest they are pride!

A few weeks ago, I posted this little goody on social media:

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