And He was transfigured before them: His face shone like the sun and His clothes became white as light. Matthew 17:2
Mason and I have one of those push and pull relationships. We’re deeply connected, but we also butt heads, a lot. He’s a sensitive soul who is deeply effected by EVERYTHING.
The plus side of that is: he feels for others and, therefore, doles out love like candy. The minus side of that is: he is devastated over the smallest of things (even when I ask him to power down his iPad mid-game!). This double-edged sword has been one of the greatest challenges in my motherhood for a while now.
I put a lot of pressure on myself to find the exact way to interact with him to preserve his loving heart, yet toughen him up a bit so he doesn’t fall apart over the small things and the have-to’s in life. Feeling ill equipped almost daily, I have no choice but to lean into God for help, constantly. Just last Wednesday night, God answered my prayers, big time, giving me so much hope for Mason’s future.
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My friend, Karen, was going through that scary journey of multiple doctors appointments, test after test, and then the grueling wait for the results. During that time, she asked me if I thought she had a right to pray to be fully healed. From her perspective, she has lived a good life. She knows so many woman battling cancer. Maybe it was her turn. 
I’m one of those annoying mothers who makes her kids journal over the summer. Although my kids moan and groan about it, they absolutely love going back through what they’ve written and drawn to reminisce about the fun things we’ve done together. So despite the push back, I’m always going to make them do it.
Every summer my kids and I go to the 
I took my kids out to lunch at a local restaurant last week. We sat in a big circular booth by the front window. As we played 
Mason’s baseball team made it to the Championships. But with all the rain and cancellations, the only slot they could get for the game was the last Wednesday of school, from 7 p.m. to 9 .m. That meant Jocelyn was up way too late during an already crazy-busy week. Add to that Zack’s occasional preteen attitude, mix, and shake. The result was Jocelyn and Zack going at each other while getting ready for bed that night.
My ten-year-old son, Mason, has been playing baseball for six years, spring and fall, with batting clinics and camps in between. None of it seemed to be clicking. He did okay, and liked it enough; but there was no real spark. I had a hunch he was only playing baseball to please my husband. When I’d ask Mason about it, he’d imply it was part of the reason, but he’d never give me a straight answer.
As I washed Jocelyn’s hair in the bathtub the other morning, we chatted about random things. I’m not quite sure how, but we ended up talking about babies. Jocelyn said she wanted her first baby to be a girl. At just seven years of age, she had it all planned out. “When I’m pregnant,” she said, “I’ll pray to God for a girl. He’ll hear my prayer and give me one.”
Shifting My Perspective 