Kristin Hill Taylor

Seeking God as the Author of Every Story

She’s a teenager!

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Happy THIRTEENTH birthday, Catherine Anna! How is that even possible? You made me a mom, and, in so many ways, we’ve grown up together.

I know you want to take some friends to an escape room and the mall to celebrate, but we obviously can’t do that right now in these social-distancing days. We’re going to make you grilled chicken, baked potatoes, squash and zucchini, and chocolate cake tonight. And we’ll keep on celebrating your precious life.

You finish seventh grade in two days. It’s been a great school year that got interrupted when we started non-traditional instruction days almost two months ago. But you’ve thrived anyway. You’ve learned alongside your school friends on Google Hangouts and Google Classroom. You’ve loved having some expanded access to technology at home and keep up with your friends that way.

You bravely started playing basketball this past winter. We pushed you a tiny bit to play on the school team when you expressed interest, but that’s all it took for you to go all in. You were part of your school’s first-ever middle school girls’ basketball team, which won some games and got beat by 30 in other games. I am incredibly proud of how you tried something new, got out on that court in front of a crowd, and had a great attitude regardless of the score. You improved with each practice and game, but, most importantly, I saw you belong on a team and find some common ground with your brother. I love watching you love something, and seeing that overflow into other parts of your life. You create art with basketballs on it. The dynamic in your small middle school class shifted as several of you and your friends bonded over your new sport love.

You’re an awesome big sister. You help mother Ben and Rachel — even when they don’t like it. I trust you to do what you say you’re going to do. You care about our family and how everyone fits together. You’re fun to play board games with, even if you regularly beat me in Splendor. With all this time at home lately, I’ve enjoyed watching musical reality shows with you. We’re making our way through The Voice, Songland, and The Masked Singer. Of course, I love watching and talking Survivor with you too.

Your faith is quiet but steady. You’re a reliable daughter, sister, and friend. You have lots of ideas — and most don’t revolve around keeping your room organized! But you are quick to help me make dinner or ask what you can do to help. I don’t understand your love of Crocs, scrunchies, or distressed jeans, but I’m obviously not as cool as you.

I love who you are, Cate. You’re easy to parent and a joy to be around. Just don’t be so hard on yourself.

Love, Mom

*****

Look back on Cate’s life through other letters and birthday posts: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Baptism. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

Hello, 41.

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Hello, 41.

I had a lot of feelings anticipating this birthday – none of which have to with turning a prime number. Rather, I’ve been deep in reflections that come with marking another year. As many of you know, my dad died unexpectedly less than a week after I turned 40 and my family learned things about his life that rocked our world. That led to grieving during my favorite season and shifting perspectives about belonging. (I wrote about that, so feel free to look back: Reflections on living & dying and Seasons of belonging.)

Now, a year later, I’m finding myself isolated again but because of different circumstances. Spring is full of birthdays in my immediate family and with our best friends. Anticipating this round of birthdays looking different was hard on me at first.

And then I decided to embrace it.

I started celebrating a few days early. I’m extroverted enough that I am longing for face-to-face connections, so I was especially happy to get visitors. We did a decent job socially distancing ourselves. Jaclyn brought me lunch (and a Diet Strawberry Limeade!) on Friday. Then Saturday, Courtney showed up with flowers and Kim brought a chocolate chip pie. Sweetness, literally! As an initiator of plans and connections, having someone else reach out to me is a gift. Of course, I’ve had some time lately to process all my thoughts and feelings, so that’s been another gift.

Greg also asked me a few times what I wanted to do for my birthday. It took me a while to come up with an answer: Make myself homemade cinnamon rolls and start a “garden” with some potted vegetable plants – and I wanted my family to help me with these things. So that’s what we did this weekend, and that seems appropriate for this season. Of course, the cinnamon rolls failed because the dough didn’t rise, even though we followed the instructions, including how to substitute instant yeast for active dry yeast because that’s all I could find last week when I was grocery shopping. Here’s the hoping the tomato, zucchini, and pepper plants are more successful! Our pool is open, but the water was 62 degrees last time I checked!

Tara left bagels on my door step. Greg and Ben made me pancakes and sausage for breakfast. Greg and Cate put together a video of birthday greetings from family and friends that they’d collected without me knowing. I cried almost immediately, and the happy tears continued while I watched different people I love bless me with their words during this weird time.

Today is Social Distancing Day 51 for us, so I’ve settled in here. I’ve remembered the smaller circle of belonging that brought me comfort last summer in the midst of grief. I’ve found ways to connect to people I care about, even if I’m missing them in my daily life.

Really, it’s been a valuable year: I’ve learned about adjusting and appreciating what is right in front of me this past year. I’ve found the beauty in slowing down and living my best life with my few closest people. I’ve learned to play some new board games. I’ve gotten to travel and then come home to explore places right here. I wrote a book that I’m working on self-publishing. I’ve read more fiction and been more selective about non-fiction. I’ve deepened my relationship with my Creator and Rescuer.

I’d say that a good year, even if it had some hard surprises. So, here’s to another year and all the lessons and gifts it’ll bring, including cinnamon rolls made by someone other than me.

A life with goldenrod

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I love seeing the fields of goldenrod lining our country roads. Seeing the yellow contrast the green growing to meet the blue skis is so pretty I forget goldenrod is a weed. Of course, it’s our state flower too. I saw goldenrod recently spring up from gravel and along the rocky shoreline of Kentucky Lake. The pops of yellow are sweet surprises among mud and gravel.

We’re beginning our fourth week of social distancing. We’ve left the house for curbside drop off and pick up of school assignments, although this week is actual Spring Break. And I’ve gone grocery shopping about once a week. We’ve done one drive-by birthday parade for Nana, who turned 91 last week, and have another coming up this week for our best friend turning 12.

Most days, I love being home with a clear calendar. I’ve gotten to see God do things in our family I’ve been praying about for a long time. I’ve gotten to deal with some deeply rooted things in my own soul. I’ve learned things about my kids. We figured out how to play Settlers of Catan online with our best friends. My Bible study group is continuing to talk about John on Zoom meetings. Our church small group meets, thanks to Microsoft Teams. I’ve taken long walks and talked to friends on the phone.

But some moments have been hard.

Rescheduling the mission trip to Guatemala we’d been planning for an entire year was hard. We’d be there now if it weren’t for this worldwide coronavirus epidemic. Wiping off soccer practices and games, volleyball practices, birthday parties for friends, school field trips, volunteer commitments, and family gatherings was freeing at the beginning but started cutting deeper each time. In a family of mostly extroverts, thinking about celebrating three of our birthdays in isolation together is sad. We miss our families and friends.

I realize other people are navigating many harder situations, but the reality is everyone is dealing with disappointment and adjustments of some kind. It’s okay to own the hard we’re experiencing without ranking and comparing to others.

Honestly, it’s been almost a year of weirdness for me. Right after I turned 40 in May, my dad died and the grief overwhelmed my favorite season. I finally felt more myself by the time my least favorite season was starting, and the irony was a spiritual lesson. Now we’re all in this socially distant life. Through it all, I’ve learned at least one thing: Goodness and grief co-exist. One moment can hold both. And that’s okay.

That’s where I am today. One evening I’m teary. Another morning I wake up anxious. Thankfully, we’re all healthy. I find peace when I pray and sing and reach out to friends. Getting groceries makes me anxious, but my home and all the wide-open space around it feel safe.

We aren’t in a world of either or, this or that. We are in a world of both and. It’s hard and comforting. It’s anxious and peaceful. It’s broken and beautiful. Like those pretty stalks of goldenrod that shoot up among the mud.

******

This is the second post I’ve shared about our coronavirus season, which is obviously unlike any spring we’ve lived before. Here’s the first post.