TJ Hirst

My nine-year-old daughter, KH, has an artist’s eye. She see images of beauty in her mind that she wants to create, but the challenge comes in making those images real with paint and paper, a computer or just an ideal setting of physical surroundings.

I can relate to her quandary, not only in my creative world but in the practical one, too. That is why I don’t like to shop. I know what I want but I can never quite find what I am looking for.

When KH and I had to replace her nice dress shoes because the old ones were beat up and mysteriously missing, I felt that same perfectionist pressure rising in me. Time became tight and shoes she wanted were too. But, minutes before we had to leave the store for another outing, we tried the clearance racks and found shimmery gold flats in her size for $2.99. Ah, sometimes we do get perfection. Or at least satisfaction.

And on the seventh day God ended his work which he had made; and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had made. And God blessed the seventh day, and sanctified it: because that in it he had rested from all his work which God created and made.

Genesis 2:2-3

Ingenuity: n. 1. Inventive skill or imagination; cleverness. 2. Imaginative and clever design or construction.

Our home sits on unique triangular-shaped, one-acre lot with a steep hill and undeveloped forest. We chose it because we could position the house up high to take in the views but also enjoy the trees. We built the home right at the front of that pie shape and left the woods natural.

When we were at my parent’s farm, Grandpa loved showing us his planned projects to improve their property. We also took a short hike through a state park that everyone loved.

When we returned home, I wondered aloud with my 11-year-old son, NH, if he wanted to build a hiking trail through our forest to a fire pit/campsite and make a nature loop back to the house.

He’s nurturing that idea as his own summer project with research on the Internet, sketches and notes the site plan, and initial marking of where the trail will go. I love to see his mind catch hold of this idea and know that he is old enough and skilled enough to carry it through with our help. Now, he’s the leader on this one, and we will post his progress along the way.

I planted an idea into the mind of my 14-year-old daughter, EH, that this would be a good summer to volunteer somewhere. Independently, she made some plans. Now, she volunteers 3-4 hours per week at our local arboretum. She rides her bike there, a mile and a half, once a week and fulfills odd jobs around the gardens and trails like weeding and watering. This week the manager told her he would like to pay her for her work! She did so well and consistently showed up as a volunteer that they hired her. Her initiative paid her back.

We talk a lot about the self-confidence that youth receive in team sports or other activities, but real-life work opportunities bring them to a realization that they, too, have a valuable contribution to make in the world. She received the job by putting herself in a place where she showed her willingness to learn and a natural reward came. Those are the best life lessons my teen can receive as she begins her transition into the “real” world—one that is an obvious outgrowth of what we seek to encourage at home.

How about you? What was your first job? Did it feel like a foreign venture into an adult world that seemed to operate on a different level? Or was it a natural outgrowth from something you were already involved in? How did it build your confidence? What did you learn?

My Daily Question: Have I seen the hand of God reaching out to touch us today?

Our summer shifted this year to incorporate fewer scheduled activities and more unstructured time. Is it working? YES. Surprisingly, each of us is finding the right balance of together time and individual pursuits, down time and goal-oriented projects. I’m going to write about what my children are doing over the next few days, but here’s one that blessed me today.

I sat on my front porch bench photographing the red columbine in bloom in my garden and the biking children on the neighborhood street. But then the game changed, and they invited me in to play kickball with them!

“No,” I said. “I’m just relaxing. I’ll watch.” I’d done my hard work and now I wanted to be the observer.

But then something in me said, “Yes. I’ll just change my shoes.”

I hadn’t played kickball since my fourth-grade days at Becky-David Elementary school where I was never the first one picked for the team. But my daughter chose me for hers. We played a hard game in our driveway, which has been designated as a premier kickball court with natural boundaries. I was glad for spontaneity and to be chosen. But after an hour or so, I happily turned my spot over to the neighbor boy who came just in time to replace me.

Afterwards, they invited me back. “You’re really good, Mom.”