Author: Sarah Anderson

Letting Go

By Sarah Anderson The day before my youngest, Pace, turned one, he was checked into the children’s hospital to get tubes put in his ears. This surgery is common and uncomplicated. But I was a wreck. So, my husband was the parent we designated to be with Pace for the surgery. Meanwhile, I waited at home with my oldest frantically checking my phone for updates for when the ten minute procedure was over. It went off without a hitch—except for one thing. When receiving a picture of Pace in the post-op room, still sleeping off the anesthesia, I realized I wasn’t looking at my baby. That was a little boy. I suspect this experience wasn’t unique to me. Parenting regularly generates these unexpected and puzzling moments when the child you thought you understood appears foreign, unrecognizable—a near stranger. Suddenly, you feel as though you are being reintroduced to your own offspring, left wondering when they stopped being who you knew so well and became an altogether new person. Looking at my baby boy when he left the house at 5:15 a.m, only to see the lines and shape of a child sleeping off the anesthesia was one of those times for me. At some point, Pace had lost his baby-ness. And I couldn’t remember when. I had been so busy protecting, defending, harboring this idea of his infancy, that...

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The Perfect White Easter Eggs

My husband often tells me “the happiest and healthiest people are those whose expectations meet reality.” I frequently need reminding of this. I live in expectation—anticipation—playing things out in my head of how I would like them to unfold. The problem is, as you might imagine, the more expectations I have, the more likely I am to be disappointed when they aren’t met. Thinking through how I would like things to be is far from a guarantee of how they will actually happen. There may be no other realm in life where expectation and reality land in such vastly...

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Bridging the Gap

By Sarah Anderson The other day, by the time I walked out the door, I had already lived a thousand lifetimes. I had been awake for two hours, but was ready to crawl back in bed and request a do-over. It isn’t my favorite way to usher in daylight—with chaos, messes and more noise than my non-morning person ears can comfortably tolerate. Every parent is familiar with those days—when the whirlwind of activity furiously descends before you can even get a sip of coffee in, and it maintains a steady speed and intensity as the hours wear on. The entirety of your waking hours is spent simply trying to catch up.  On days like these, my world seems small. Itty-bitty children small. Confined. A little claustrophobic. It is hard to feel sentimental and purposeful about my role as a mom when I can’t keep up with laundry, dishes, and the unexplicably sticky little hands tugging at me. I read an article the other day detailing the origins and meaning behind a letter from the Hebrew alphabet, vav. Scripture mentions it for the first time in Genesis 1:1. In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The letter is said to have connective meaning—like our word “and”. Heaven and earth. But it is more than that too. It is used later to refer to the hooks used to...

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