in case anyone else is as tired as i am.

January 18, 2017 ~ mollyflinkman ~ 2 Comments

Tired is the new status quo over here.

In the past four months, I can count on one hand the number of times I have slept for longer than two hours at a time before being awoken for one reason (a baby who hasn’t quite figured nighttime sleep out yet) or another (the three-year-old who forgets how to cover herself up with her blanket in the middle of the night).

You might think I’m exaggerating for effect, but Jake can back me up on this one because he sleeps about as well as I do. And, if you need further evidence, you can reference the two pounds of coffee I buy every other week.

I know we’re not the only ones living in a constant state of exhaustion. I also know that the fact that we can attribute this exhaustion to our children is indeed something to be thankful for. Please know that I’m not complaining.

Rather, I’m trying to establish our baseline. It is an indisputable fact that Jake and I are tired pretty much all the time. And it can be frustrating to feel tired all the time.

(Sleep deprivation hardly brings out your best qualities, after all.)

Now, as you might remember, I’m trying to shift my perspective this year. To focus on letting the hard things change me instead of praying for the hard things to change.

So, in light of that, here’s what God had to say about my current state of exhaustion:

For I will satisfy the weary soul, and every languishing soul I will replenish.¹

He doesn’t promise me sleep, but He does promise rest for my soul.²

My physical body may be tired, but my soul doesn’t have to be.

That. That is something of hope when you’re dragging yourself out of bed for the fifth time in the middle of the night. When your alarm goes off two hours earlier than you wish it would. When you just. can’t. catch. up.

There’s hope. Always hope.

And, tonight I feel restored in knowing that exhaustion can’t touch things like joy or peace (to name a few). There is rest for my soul.

So that’s where I’m at. Tired but satisfied. Sleep-deprived but replenished. Exhausted but well-rested.

Wondering if I’ll ever sleep through the night again (of course I know I will. This is the part where I exaggerate for effect.) but also feeling rejuvenated because I’ve been promised a more important rest.

The most important rest.

And hopefully that’s what I’ll remind myself of when I reach for that third cup of coffee tomorrow.

¹ Jeremiah 31:25

² Matthew 11:28-29

new year. new prayer.

January 4, 2017January 4, 2017 ~ mollyflinkman ~ 4 Comments

I didn’t start 2017 in a particularly good mood.

I usually like to think about fresh, white canvases and blank pages to write a new chapter of our story into on the first of the year.

Instead, I woke up in the thick of post-vacation chaos: suitcases and miscellaneous bags of things strewn all over the living room, piles of mail that needed attention, and kitchen countertops that I think were under the clutter somewhere.

And that’s not to mention the three tiny people in our house who were equally struggling to get back on rhythm.

I had a headache by 9 a.m.

And yet, headache or not (Oh, you thought it would have gone away by now?), the blank page remains. And, it’s not in my nature to ignore it.

It’s so easy for me to get bogged down and frustrated about this phase in my life. And lately, I’ve found myself praying things like, “Please help him sleep,” or “Please calm her down,” or “Please cancel the rest of residency for the year, so Jake can be home all the time to help me.”

And then, this week I was reminded of something I wrote a few months ago about finding value in the hard things.

So, I’ve decided this year, my resolution is to seek change for myself rather than from other people.

When it comes to the sleepless days and sleepless nights (all the coffee over here, people), I’ve decided to start praying for patience and strength and gratefulness that God chose me for these kids.

When it comes to said screaming kids, I’ve decided to start praying for wisdom and that God would help me know our kids, so I can love them well.

When it comes to residency, I’ve decided to keep praying that it would be cancelled because that, at least, seems pretty reasonable.

Solomon asked for wisdom, too. And, as we enter the new year, God’s response to his request gives me hope:

Because you have asked this, and have not asked for yourself long life or riches or the life of your enemies, but have asked for yourself understanding to discern what is right, behold, I now do according to your word. Behold, I give you a wise and discerning mind.

So that’s where I’m at. Standing on the blank page of 2017 and knowing that when I look back on this chapter in a year, I’ll be a wiser, more patient, and better rested version of myself.

(I can still pray for sleep, right?)

Here’s to another year of choosing to live each day well. Who’s with me?

kids and the hard work of the middle.

November 20, 2016 ~ mollyflinkman ~ 2 Comments

If you’ve been reading my writing long, this phrase might be familiar to you by now: the hard work of the middle.

It comes from one of my favorite books, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, in which Donald Miller suggests (to over simplify it) that our lives are like a story.

And, more importantly, whether this story I live is a good one is entirely up to me and the choices I make.

As for the hard work of the middle, you can find the larger passage HERE, but, in short, Miller says this:

The reward you get from a story is always less than you thought it would be, and the work is harder than you imagined. The point of a story is never about the ending, remember. It’s about your character getting molded in the hard work of the middle.

I was reminded of this concept again this week during a moment in which Jake and I were paddling especially hard but feeling like our boat wasn’t moving any closer to the shore.

Kids, amiright?

We’re in the thick of the hard work, and we exchange at least one high-five a day because we’re so proud of ourselves for not giving up.

(Also, we just really like high-fives. Big whoop.)

Parenting, I’m realizing, comes with an overwhelming sense of pressure. Because, not only are we trying to write and live the best stories we can for ourselves through the murky waters of the middle, we’re also charged with penning the opening chapters of our kids’ lives.

Eventually they will take the pen into their own hands, but for now, it’s almost entirely up to us.

The words we speak to them. The attention we offer them. The expectations we set for them.

These are the days which set the course for all the ones to follow.

They won’t remember these years with the detail I know Jake and I will, but the importance of the foundation we set for them now is not lost on me.

Parenting toddlers can be defeating. So many nights I’m left dwelling on the things I shouldn’t have said, the ways I mismanaged situations, or the issues I haven’t yet been able to solve.

And, while I believe Jake and I are doing a pretty good job at this whole parenting gig (high-ten for good measure), I also know that we do fail on a daily basis.

Oh the things I already wish I could erase from their books.

But there’s hope. There’s always hope when you look in the right places, and I’m reminded today of these words from Psalm 73:

My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

Thankfully, my kids don’t have to rely on my strength alone when it comes to these early chapters.

They will certainly see our flaws and failures as we walk through our respective narratives, but I can only hope that through those moments, they also see the promised strength of God and His renewed mercies each day.

And that’s worth an infinite number of high-fives, if you ask me.

the things fall teaches.

November 9, 2016 ~ mollyflinkman ~ Leave a comment

I am a student of the seasons.

Fall especially. There is just something deeply metaphorical about the transition from summer to winter–life shedding its dead and making room for eventual regrowth.

So, I’ve been breathing in the crisp air and listening a little more closely to the acorns as they fall from their branches and crunch beneath my feet all the while wondering what new thing fall has to teach me this year.

I welcomed this particular fall from a hospital room as Sawyer’s first full 24 hours of life landed squarely on the Autumnal Equinox. It was fitting and good for my soul; a new season ushered in a new season.

This has been longest fall I can remember. Many of the trees here have retained their vibrancy (even despite a little rain which you might remember disrupted a baseball game not long ago…) and many others have yet to change at all.

Even so, I’m reminded that it won’t last.

The beauty of fall has to transition into the barrenness of winter.

It must change.

That’s usually what I think about during fall. The implications of change and “letting go” in my own life.

But this year I realized that something has to stay the same.

This season of my own life feels a little upended–a limbo of sorts. Much like fall, we’re in process. We’re letting go of the old way of doing things and making room for the new.

(You know, just the natural order when a baby arrives and shakes everything up for a time.)

And yet, I am sure of this: that He who began a good work in me will bring it to completion¹.

Because He is the vine and I am the branch. To abide in Him is to bear much fruit².

The tree stays the same. It remains the constant throughout each season while the branches let go of the dead and make room for the new growth.

I’ve come to learn during each season of my life that change is good and necessary.

But even better is being tethered to something (Someone) life-sustaining during each of those seasons.

And so, I feel okay about the rain that has moved back in. It promises to steal some of our fall vibrancy and usher in the cooler (more seasonably appropriate) temperatures.

Through it all, I know that the important things remain and will give life to all the seasons to come.

¹ Philippians 1:6

² John 15:5

the one where I turned thirty.

September 13, 2016 ~ mollyflinkman ~ Leave a comment

I have arrived, and it feels good.

Now, it shouldn’t surprise anyone that I’ve been thinking about turning thirty since right around the time I turned twenty-nine. I like to really gear up for things, you know?

But as this particular birthday approached, I found myself more drawn to reflecting on the past than setting plans or goals for the future.

Can there be a more transformative decade than the twenties? (I have no way of knowing the answer to this question.)

I turned twenty about a month after Jake and I started dating. A year later, we got engaged, and a year after that, we had graduated college and were living the newlywed life. I started my “career” as a teacher at 24, had a couple of babies by 28, and had moved across the country to a city of champions by 29 (Jake and I like to take credit for all the various successes in Cleveland since our arrival).

I often ask people when I will start to feel like an adult, but in looking back, I see that it happened slowly over time. I was just a kid when I stepped foot into my twenties, and then each year shaped me or refined me or challenged me in some way. I walk into this new decade a completely different version of that doe-eyed college student who thought the end game was predictability and a white-picket fence.

My twenties changed me for the better, so I processed them the only way I really know how: I wrote about them.

I thought about each year of my twenties and tried to pinpoint what exactly it taught me. And what I found as I combed through each year of the past decade, is that God has taught me things all across my twenties which have perfectly prepared me for where I am today. Equipped me to continue to take steps forward even if I’m not entirely sure where the road ahead leads.

So, if you’re interested in all those thoughts, you’re welcome click the link below where you will find a PDF file–a compilation of essays I wrote in reflection of what each year of my twenties taught me:

thirty-ten-things-i-learned-during-my-twenties

It is nothing out of the ordinary. The writing doesn’t contain any real tragedy or nail-biting cliffhangers (unless you’re particularly riveted by things like marriage or car trips across the country).

But I’ve come to decide that even the ordinary needs to be celebrated and acknowledged. It is real, and it gets us to where we are today. And, for me at least, that felt worth writing about.

So, here’s to thirty and all it has in store for me. For us. I like it already.

dear teachers, I promise to never say this to my kids.

August 31, 2016September 2, 2016 ~ mollyflinkman ~ 2 Comments

I went to my first preschool meeting last week and officially shifted my school lens from teacher to parent.

I was all, “This is no big deal” about it until Lily’s teachers started talking about how they are the first teachers she will meet in a long line to follow. How they help set the tone for the rest of her educational experience. How this is the beginning of many years to follow.

And that’s kind of a big deal when I really think about it.

So, I’ve been thinking about the grand scheme lately–what I want for my girls out of their educations and what I hope to model for them in the process.

And in thinking through that long list of things, I have decided on one thing for sure: There is one phrase my kids will never hear me say in reference to the things they are learning in school.

“You’ll never need to know that in the real world.”

I have gone rounds with middle school and high school students on this one during my time spent on the teaching side of things.

My mom said I’ll never have to write a paper once I have a job.

My dad has never read a book in his entire life, and he makes tons of money.

My sister is in 10th grade, and she told me she never uses English. (my personal favorite)

Kids innately want purpose. They want to know that the things they are doing matter. I see this now even with Lily and her propensity to ask, “Why?”

And yet, teachers have such a limited time to convince kids that what they are doing matters in the long run. Especially if when they go home, they hear how much it doesn’t.

Now, I haven’t written many formal speeches since I passed my college speech class. I don’t regularly utilize the distributive property in my daily life or analyze the parts of a cell underneath a microscope. I have forgotten the conjugation of Spanish verbs, the major scale on my flute, and the words to the preamble of the Constitution (which I once had memorized).

Instead, what I do on a daily basis is think and analyze and process and problem solve and learn.

The things that matter are so often hidden within the things kids think don’t.

And that’s where I come in as a parent. I think it is my responsibility to teach my kids that there is value in learning for the sake of learning. That if they approach even the tasks they hate with hard work, determination, and a positive attitude, they will gain skills that will take them far in life (even if they decide to never read another Shakespearean play after high school).

Lily spent the first 15 minutes of her first day of preschool sitting at a kidney table doing puzzles. I suppose I could have let her know that she’ll hardly ever need to complete a physical puzzle once she’s an adult (I certainly don’t do them very often).

Instead, I chose to praise her problem-solving skills, focus, and refusal to give up.

It seemed a no-brainer to me.

So, here’s to the teachers doing the hard work of convincing kids to learn. If my kids ever grace your classrooms, I’ve got your back.

(Also, I may need some extra tutoring sessions on Spanish verb conjugation and the distributive property.)

i want the best time of my life to be now.

August 23, 2016August 23, 2016 ~ mollyflinkman ~ 1 Comment

When I was a senior in college, a girl who had recently graduated told me that she would give anything to go back to school.

“It was best time of my life,” she said. “Nothing will ever compare.”

Now, I had quite a lot of fun in college (see: hosted floor talent shows and road tripped with my friends to every football game so I could watch the cute wide receiver for examples), but even then I think I balked a little at her comment.

Maybe I’ve been thinking about it because the weather dipped back down into the seventies yesterday and reminded me that a change in season is on my horizon. Maybe it’s because all my teacher friends are decorating classrooms and meeting new students. Maybe it’s because Lily starts preschool on Monday.

In any case, my resolve remains strong: I refuse to believe that nothing will ever compare to right now.

I want the best time of my life to be where I’m at now, but, more importantly, I want to be able to say that in every season. With every new milestone.

This thought process always makes me think of the Robert Frost poem, “Nothing Gold Can Stay.”

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour,
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

I suppose I could sink to grief. Agonize over the fact that Lily is entering this new, more independent phase or wish I could freeze everything exactly as it is right now.

But, what good would that do anyone?

And, besides, when I think of every new phase—the new jobs, the new people, the new kids, the new houses, the new milestones—each one has added something beautiful to my life (even if it was hard to see at the time). Even during those hard seasons, I don’t think I could ever say, “I just wish I could go back.” (at least, I hope I didn’t.)¹

I want to be a person who balances nostalgia with realism. Who holds onto and cherishes the moments while I have them but also finds joy in the moments of letting go and moving forward. I want to embrace the beauty of new seasons rather than trying to keep my feet rooted in the past.

That’s what I want.

(So, feel free to remind me of these thoughts when Lily starts kindergarten, leaves for college, and/or gets married someday.) 😉

¹ I certainly don’t mean to downplay the tragic and/or devastating seasons of life some people face. I imagine those moments are wrought with many feelings of wanting something back that has been lost or taken away. I’m mostly talking here in terms of the natural changes and milestones we seem to continually face as a family. The mostly trivial but necessary things.

my kids are teaching me about forgiveness.

August 18, 2016 ~ mollyflinkman ~ Leave a comment

I stand by my theory that one of the hardest parts about being a parent is adjusting to the constant ebb and flow of kids. They master one thing, then regress in another. They conquer one milestone, then change their mind on another. In my case, it always feels like just when we’ve found a good rhythm, they up and grab a different instrument altogether.

For instance, all summer, the girls have been waking up at 7:30 a.m., a time everyone in our house felt really good about. Then, suddenly last week, they decided 6:15 a.m. would be more appropriate. Even better is that they have decided it’s best to just stay in bed and yell angrily until someone comes and gets them. They started beating a drum just when we had gotten used to the soothing sounds of a string quartet.

I did not handle this change well. And as I worked to adjust, I realized that I had this innate need for the girls to know that they were inconveniencing me. I wanted them to know how terrible it was to wake up to angry screaming, and I wanted them to feel bad about it.

As it turns out, guilt trips are not a highly effective means toward change when it comes to small children. Go figure.

Anyway, it has me thinking about forgiveness, an act that is much more difficult to come by when the offending party hasn’t actually asked for it.

I err on the side of over-sensitive and easily wounded. I’ve certainly come a long way in this regard (mostly thanks to Jake’s magical prowess with reasoning), but I can still pinpoint times in my life where I had to move forward from something without an apology. Parenting included (let’s talk about how irrational I can get when inadvertently head-butted in the face or made late to something because of an ill-timed tantrum).

And, lately, it’s in each one of these moments that I’m always reminded of what God says to Jonah after Jonah is whining about how unfair it is that God showed mercy on the people of Ninevah.

“Do you do well to be angry?”

Loving kids is to understand sacrifice. Sometimes it’s just easier to be mad. But in these moments, that simple question has started whispering in above the beating drum: Do you do well to be angry?

The answer is always no (even if there is a strong justification for the anger¹).

The principle transcends parenting, really; it’s just another example of how this whole being-a-mom thing is refining me into a better person or whatever.

So here’s to burying the anger, the self-pity, and the other bummer qualities that distract us from better things. Good things. Important things. Refining things.

At least, that’s what I’ll be telling myself at 6:15 tomorrow morning.

¹ For the record, I don’t think a 6:15 a.m. wake-up call is reason to justify being angry. It’s not such a bad time to wake up; it just happens to be the most recent change that has me reeling a bit. And, It’s not my fault that I’m so tired in the morning. I blame NBC, Eastern Standard Time, and Simone Biles.

what finding things taught me about lost things.

August 10, 2016 ~ mollyflinkman ~ 3 Comments

I’ve been thinking about lost things today.

This train of thought started a few weeks ago when Lily found an opal stone in our driveway. The stone had fallen out of my grandmother’s wedding band six months earlier, and I had given up hope of ever finding it. (I’d like to emphasize that this tiny, white jewel sat on our driveway for an ENTIRE WINTER of snow and ice only to be found by a three-year-old one warm, summer night. It was incredible.)

Then, this week, I lost one of my favorite earrings. I realized it was missing long after it had fallen out, and again assumed it was lost in one of the various cavities of our house.

Last night, Lily swooped in yet again. She picked up a very tiny, silver arrow stud from her bed and said, “Hey mom, is this your earring?”

(That kid notices the small stuff, let me tell you.)

So, I’ve been thinking about lost things today.

I love a good metaphor (old English teacher habits die hard), so I’ve been wondering in the broader scope what exactly the lost things in my life are. What are the things that need to be found?

That question took me to Luke 15 and the parables of the lost sheep, lost coin, and prodigal (lost) son. Every story follows the same structure: Something is lost. Something is found. A party is thrown in celebration.

Those lost things? They are people. Those lost who are now found.

About five minutes after I read those parables, I got a text message from my friend, Breanna, with an excerpt from Interrupted¹ by Jen Hatmaker (which seems to be wrecking her life much the same way it wrecked mine a year ago). Our conversation ultimately ended with her sending me this quote from The Tangible Kingdom² (as referenced in Interrupted):

Change must be about new, which to us means “fresh, bright, something that intuitively feels right, that causes us not only to dream but to move on our dreams.” That kind of new is good if it compels us into a world of faith again where we can battle fear and despondency with action that makes a difference. That kind of new is okay, but it really isn’t new. It’s just been hidden, or covered, or we’ve been distracted from it…

This type of new is about a returning. Returning to something ancient, something tried, something true and trustworthy. Something that has rerouted the legacies of families, nations, kings, peasants.

Something that has caused hundreds of thousands to give up security, reputation, and their lives…What we need to dig up, recover, and find again is the life of the kingdom and Jesus’ community..the church.

So, to summarize: I asked myself what the lost things in my life were and, 15 minutes later, I had all that sitting in front of me.

The answer to the question is people, most certainly, but, I think it also comes down to uncovering a life that brings me to those people. In the times when I start to get comfortable, God reminds me to dig up and recover the life of His kingdom now. To return to the true and the trustworthy which is really about finding ways to love people well each day.

It really is about rerouting. A willingness to give up security, reputation, and even the comfortable life.

Not easy. Easily worth it.

I’ll start by throwing a party in honor of all my found things. You’re all invited (and can hopefully help me find the library book that went missing a few weeks ago. That’s the one thing Lily is yet to uncover.)

¹ Hatmaker, Jen. Interrupted: When Jesus Wrecks Your Comfortable Christianity. NavPress, 2014.

² Halter, Hugh, and Matt Smay. The Tangible Kingdom: Creating Incarnational Community: The Posture and Practices of Ancient Church Now. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass, 2008.

i’m in love with summer.

July 23, 2016 ~ mollyflinkman ~ Leave a comment

Summer, you are exactly what we needed. It feels a little hypocritical, really, because a few weeks ago, I wrote about a life of long hours and time spent apart. Now, here we are nearing the end of a month in which Jake has been home with us far more than he has been away.

This is something I will not take for granted.

It’s funny though. Seasons of relative ease always leave me feeling a little anxious (to which Jake would surely reply, “Well, that’s not hard to do.”). We are becoming pros at readjusting our routines and rhythms every four weeks, but that still doesn’t make it any easier to go from what we’ve got going now back into the real world demands of shift work and long days.

To put it plainly, I think summer is spoiling me.

When I start to get all angsty and tightly wound about it (again, not hard to do), I try to remind myself that each season has something good to offer even if some seasons you have to dig deeper to unearth that good.

But here we are, living presently in a four week season in which the good stuff is staring us square in the face.

For instance, Jake and I took the girls to a castle the other day (yes, a CASTLE). While we were there, I sent my mom a picture of Jake and the girls, and she reminded me of how good this life is that we’re building together.

She re-centered me without realizing it and reminded me that I bear a great responsibility to try my best to live all our days well. To create experiences for our girls in which they feel well-loved and important. In this season and the next and in all the ones that follow.

So with that in mind, here’s to now. To a summer filled with family and friends and unexpected visitors who show up on our doorstep here in Cleveland. To watermelon stained sun-dresses and bags of fresh cherries that I ‘forget’ to share with the girls. To plastic pools, sprinklers, and splash pads. To homegrown tomatoes and functioning air-conditioning on days like today.

We try to live all our days well around here, but today I am just especially thankful for the ones in which that comes a bit more easily.

molly flinkman

Life