Gindi Vincent

The Dish on Career, Fashion, Faith, and Family

Gindi

The First Day of Fifth Grade -2020-Style

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Every year, I write you on your first day of school.

I’m overwhelmed with so many emotions today. 

The times we live in. 

The way you’re going back to school. 

The fact that you GET to go back to school. 

Little did we know when we flew off for our Grand Canyon Spring Break trip, you would not return to school for five months. 

Five months. 

You. Are. Amazing.  Each of you are such extraordinary humans. 

This has been a hard five months.  Distance learning.  Life shut down.  Sports canceled. Friend play dates ever so rare.  So many days of the same.  A mommy who lost her patience a long time ago. 

And still.  You rose to the occasion.  You’ve had hard stuff to face in your young lives.  You came into our world as tiny fighters.  You’ve grown a lot, but you still fight and your resilience puts mine to shame.  Bagging up your belongings at the age of 7 because we thought our house would flood during Harvey.  Watching, and helping, your city rebuild.  Then, just a couple of years later, seeing the news report deaths and crisis and unrest and dissension.  Living through a pandemic.

But you, you each found joy.  You each laughed and ran and played and fought and lived life so fully.  I continue to be overwhelmed with the honor of having a front row seat. 

I have less advice this year.  You probably could give me some. 

To you, my oldest: You are brave and competitive and persistent and passionate.  You marshal all of those incredible God-given talents this year.  I know there were some disappointments thrown at you, and you’re carrying some of those right now, but throw them off.  That’s right.  The year is on now.  And you are going to shine because you have proved over and over that you work so hard to cross the finish line.  Just like I told you last night when we were visiting at bedtime before prayers, you were the first one to climb out of the crib, the first to learn how to turn the door knob and escape, the one most committed to succeed at swim team even though none of you could get to the other end because the pool was oh so long and cold.  You push through kiddo and that will equip you to thrive this year.  I know we butt heads darling boy, but it’s only because we both speak our minds. Do it your way. Forge your own path.

To you, my darling girl: I am utterly smitten with the young woman you are growing into.  You are methodical and curious and patient and introspective and massively creative.  Your creativity is going to serve you well this year.  When you crash into a hard wall, you just create your way around it.  Find a different path.  Learn a different way.  What a gift God gave you with a teacher who knows you already and who is crazy about you and sees your talents and gifts.  This year, it will be transformative.  And you will bring such joy and laughter and conscience to that classroom.  You, the one who took the only counterpoint in a controversial debate assignment last year, will be the one to speak your mind.  Driven by justice, you will just grow more and more socially conscious and you will bring people to Jesus because they will see Him shining in you.  Just. Be. You.

And to you, my baby:  Ha, you are so far from a baby now, it must drive you nuts to own that moniker.  Your deep insight and intellect and ability to see beyond what people say to what they feel and what drives them is going to give you such a talent for thriving in 5th grade and all the grades to come.  I know it makes life hard sometimes, to feel so deeply what others feel; to pick up on hurt and loss and bear some of it on your own soul.  But you are so very strong.  Not just physically strong, but emotionally strong to your depths.  You crave knowledge.  That will grow into wisdom and you will bring insight to the classroom. You will share others worries too. Don’t hold on to them.  Let the worry fall away and hand it over to Jesus.  You thrive because you were born to learn and grow and share and lead.  I couldn’t be more astonished at who you have become. 

During my prayer time this morning, I was listening to Elevation Worship music.  Praying The Blessing over each of you.  And then Resurrecting came on.  This line is in one verse: The fear that held us now gives way, To Him who is our peace.

I know this masked up, classroom isolated, year can look a little scary.  But we serve a God who is in the resurrection business. He will be your peace.  You follow the rules to keep you safe, then make your own way.  Grow, thrive, learn, and I’m right here, praying for you and rooting for you and wildly proud of you!

Sadness

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Saturday, I wrote about disappointment based on a real life disappointing scenario I saw happen at the farm. 

The next day, I wrote about fear because of one more real life situation. 

Today, I’m writing about sadness since we had yet another circumstance unfold that helped me understand it more. 

When I woke up with the desire to write on Saturday, after two months, I didn’t know there would be more than one blog post.  I certainly didn’t intend to write a series based on rather hard emotions. 

Well, now that I’m in an apparent series, I’m really rooting for tomorrow to be a real life JOY scenario so I can write about something to cheer us all up!!!

You’ve probably seen one version or another of the feelings wheel I have pictured above.  Core emotions are things like sadness or joy and then the emotions take different forms from there. Seeing versions of this has helped me process what has come out of my kids (heck, anyone) and recognize a reaction might look like one thing but truly be something else at its core. 

But right now, we have a core emotion that looks like a core emotion. 

Sadness.

I have a child who is sad today.  This sadness hit because of something that is happening, none of us have any control over it, and sadness is a perfectly appropriate response for it. 

In fact, when I spoke to the child’s siblings about this situation that caused the sadness, each of them (entirely separate from the other, at different times of the day) cried!  They each said, “oh no, mom, that isn’t fair, I could handle that but not [insert name]!”  I was really hoping to enlist each of them to help me stay upbeat about the circumstance, but their little tear-filled eyes made me dubious they would do much good.

There were a few things that could have mitigated the sadness, but the situation unfolded such that each of these mitigating options went the other way.  Sadness compounded. 

This is what hit me as I was dealing with the situation unfolding.  Every instinct in me wanted to “pretty it up.”  Let me put on my fixer hat and figure out a way to “solve the problem.”  I was trying to “silver lining” it for this sweet child.  Hey hey, I felt like I was dancing, it’s going to be fine, and you’ll end up having fun, and there’s all this good we can’t see right now, yadayadayada.

What I realized, fairly quickly: Wrong Response!  What this child needed was not a father’s, “hey don’t cry,” but instead a mother’s, “I am really sorry. This is hard. I know it isn’t what you wanted.  It’s okay to be sad – I will be sad with you.”  And then sit there, patiently absorbing whatever big reactions came out. 

It was also okay for the other two siblings to cry and be sad for their third wombmate.  I didn’t need to dismiss them and say, “HEY, cheer up here, I need your help salvaging this situation!!!”  The better response was, “Man, you guys sure are lucky to have each other.  You understand what is hard on each other, and I’m so thankful for your compassion and empathy in this hard circumstance.” 

Yet again, a valuable life lesson gleaned from parenting through the hard.  Once more, a lot of real life relevance in 2020. 

I listened to one of my best friend’s cry yesterday because of a lot of really sad things happening in her life right now.  They are hard things, some very hard, and some less hard which feel harder because of all the crap surrounding it.  Instead of looking for a silver lining or trying to fix the series of unfortunate events, my response was similar to my response to my child.  “I am really sorry. This is hard. I know it isn’t what you wanted.  It’s okay to be sad – I will be sad with you.”

If you are sad, it is okay to be sad.  This has been a sad year. We’ve watched explosions and unjust deaths and a global pandemic upend our lives and our plans and our schools.  We’ve felt trapped and isolated and that leads to sadness. 

Here is my one request: Find Someone Who Will Share Your Sadness.  Do not be sad alone.  If you need a person to share your sadness with, then I would be more than happy to visit with you.  Sharing this burden does not remove the burden, but it does weigh less heavy when you have someone to walk the path with you. 

You don’t have to pretty it up.  We will, I firmly believe, be okay and come out of this, but in the middle of the dark valley, we are all allowed to cry and suffer.  Just don’t do it alone. 

Love you friends.  Absolutely planning for joy to come in the morning. 

Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.  Psalm 30:5

(Wheel courtesy of Gottman)

Fear

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I write a lot about fear.

It’s one of my tormentors.

I’ve mentioned this before, but I come from a long line of worriers, and I think I’m actually a little better than they even were.

Past blogs have tackled the difference between being fearful or scared, fear and worry that grips you over your kids, getting caught up in the minutiae and paralyzed by fear, and heck, I even wrote an entire 10 part bible study series called Breaking Fear!

After yesterday’s post on how we are all disappointed, I woke up this morning, ready to write again, and this word sat on me. Again.

Fear.

What really got me thinking about it was watching little bit on horseback with her brothers last night.

You see, she has been obsessed with horses since I can remember. She was on grandpa’s horse, Batman, as soon as she could walk, I have pictures on her walls of her on the assorted horses from farm and ranch life the past ten years.

But there’s a break in those photos. Probably for about two years.

We had family friends at the farm. She was riding with her friend who was two years younger. The saddle must not have been cinched tight enough, and when they brought Peanut in for some water, the saddle slid sideways and both girls fell onto the concrete base of the water trough. They were bumped up with a few minor boo-boos, but there was longer term damage.

Fear set in.

Something in her little brain told her that getting back up on the horse could result in her falling and getting hurt again. So when they would saddle the horses, she would decline the invitation. In time, she would be led around by her dad or aunt, but she wouldn’t just take off on a horse like she had done before the fall.

She still loved horses. But fear stopped her from doing what she wanted to do.

I think we are all intimately acquainted with fear these days. In addition to whatever political or justice fears we may have, every one of us (around the world) are united by a fear of a tiny spiky virus we know as COVID-19.

That fear is resulting in numerous reactions from complete isolation for fear of infection to complete denial of consequences and acting like nothing has changed.

Fear has shadowed our decisions about what to do about sending our kids to school or not. (I’m fearful they’ll get sick or get us sick if they go 🆚 I’m fearful they’ll struggle emotionally if they don’t have social interaction.)

Fear has set in to our workplaces. Our churches. Our neighborhoods.

And since fear sells, Lord knows that the news is using fear, on both sides of the political spectrum and even in apolitical spaces.

So what do we do about it?

I sat with that question this morning while my daughter threw on her boots and raced out with her brothers to saddle horses and go chase a bull that got loose (that sentence gives me fear!).

She chooses the gentlest horse now. She doesn’t get in the pens with the cows where the horse is more likely to hop or kick. Her horse doesn’t gallop quite as quickly as the ones the boys ride, and she’s happy about that.

She has chosen to do what she loves again, but to do it safely.

Could she still get hurt? Absolutely. Does she know that? Of course.

But she has chosen a course of action that enables her to get back to her first love: horses. Her passion was bigger than her fear, eventually.

This will look different for each of us.

What drives me, what will beat back my fear, will be different than what drives you to overcome your fears.

I wrote yesterday I’ve been stuck in a bog. Maybe some of that bog was disappointment but a huge big sticky mess of it was fear.

We are making the best decisions we can. And our decisions will look different than yours. We decided to send our kids back to school. We are some of the few who actually have that as an option and our small private school has done so much to keep the amazing teachers and students safe. The boys are slowly putting their toes back into the sports world, outdoors of course, while little bit will wait until basketball season (which we pray will be able to proceed, but we know none of us know).

I pray for wisdom. For wisdom to make wise choices that are greater than the fear buzzing in my brain. I know Matthew 6 tells me I cannot add a single hour to my life by worrying.

I pray I would remember the 2 Timothy 1 gift God has already given me: God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.

The Ephesians 6 strength.

The 1 John 4 love.

I’ll slowly get back on my horse armed with strength and love and a sound mind and ride off in the direction God leads.

Disappointed

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Last night, the boys laid out fishing poles and lures across the weathered farm table. Bray bought bobbers and fresh line. Grandpa restrung favorite poles.

We’re at the farm this weekend. 

The boys LOVE to fish.  Everyone fishes around here, but they’re particularly obsessed.  Bray and I had both had a long and draining week.  I was looking forward to sleeping in while he was looking forward to waking at 5 am to take the boys out on the boat.  Through the bayous in the little metal boat and into Calcaseiu Lake where local tales were that the water had cleared and fishing was getting good. 

Little bit and I heard them rustling this morning.  Five am alarms.  Clothes already laid out.  Ice chest filled to spend half a day on the lake.  She crawled into bed with me while they headed out in the darkness. 

It didn’t make sense to me when I was wrested out of my sleep by boy noise a little later.  Morning light was dim.  I glanced at my clock.  Not even 7:30.  Yet there a boy sat on my bed.  The motor wouldn’t turn over, he announced.  We didn’t get to go. 

You could see the disappointment etched into his face.  They were all so excited.  The first fishing trip in months that held any promise.  No motor = no trip. 

A second boy filed in.  I’m so sorry, buddy, I said into his forlorn face.  No you’re not, he bitterly retorted and slouched out of the room while I rolled over to go back to sleep.  (I was sad for them, but I was also really tired.)

As I laid there, I started thinking about how most of 2020 our spirits, even if not our faces, have worn that deep disappointment. 

I looked at this little blog and saw the last time I wrote was nearly two months ago.  Not that things haven’t happened.  But it’s like I’ve been trapped in a bog.  What do you write when you’re trapped in a bog?

I’m staring at my desk calendar for August with all these back to school photos from last year – posing in front of signs, hugging teachers…

Now, even though we’re going back, we’re among the very few in our city, I still have dear friends steeling to teach their kids (again) with distance learning through mid-October. 

We all have friends or family who have been laid off or who are struggling with the effects of the virus (or worse) or who can’t sell their house or who can’t decide whether to check the distance or in-person box for their school district. We’re mourning injustices and losses and simply trying to survive another election year.

Our emotions are taking many different forms: depression, anger, sadness, detachment, frustration, impatience…

Deeply rooted under all of this though: DISAPPOINTED.

We are disappointed life does not look like we hoped it would or think it should.

So, now what?

Well, first let’s be really honest.  This next year is not going to look like we hoped.  We will not get to go on that gorgeous vacation we planned. We won’t get to eat lunch with our kids at school on their birthday. The big milestone birthday party or wedding will get canceled.  Things at work or home or with our friends won’t look how we want (or need).

But then. After acknowledging the reality. We have to look forward.  And reconnect to our faith. 

Oftentimes in hard times, I lean heavily on God and my faith.  But I will be honest with you, I haven’t done that lately.  I’ve read a lot of fiction. I’ve watched Hallmark movies.  I’ve cooked new recipes and drank too much wine. I haven’t spent much time in prayer or studying scripture or in stillness to see how God might be able to use this pruning season in my life.  I can’t explain the reaction, but that truth hit me this morning. 

So friend, we’re in this together.  Hold on – to your rope and to each other.  This is a season.  We are all allowed to be disappointed and all the other emotions which flow from that one. 

But then we have to look forward.  We must hope.  Hope even when it seems impossible. This is not Pollyanna, slap a smile on it, find an easy sound bite, hope. This is ugly, painful, crying, not-wanting-to-get-out-of-bed-but-doing-it-anyway, hope. This is mourning while knowing joy WILL come in the morning.

Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. (Romans 5 – NIV)

Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. This is what the ancients were commended for. By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God’s command, so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible. (Hebrews 11 – NIV)

Why would you ever complain, O Jacob, or, whine, Israel, saying, “God has lost track of me. He doesn’t care what happens to me”? Don’t you know anything? Haven’t you been listening?
God doesn’t come and go. God lasts. He’s Creator of all you can see or imagine.
He doesn’t get tired out, doesn’t pause to catch his breath. And he knows everything, inside and out. He energizes those who get tired, gives fresh strength to dropouts.
Those who wait upon God get fresh strength. They spread their wings and soar like eagles, They run and don’t get tired, they walk and don’t lag behind. (Isaiah 40 – Msg)

All around us we observe a pregnant creation. The difficult times of pain throughout the world are simply birth pangs. But it’s not only around us; it’s within us. The Spirit of God is arousing us within. We’re also feeling the birth pangs. …waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting. We, of course, don’t see what is enlarging us. But the longer we wait, the larger we become, and the more joyful our expectancy. Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good. (Romans 8 – Msg)

What’s On My Stovetop

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Yesterday, we talked books!

Oh how I love books!

But there is something that rivals my love of books: COOKING! AND BAKING!

I love to be in the kitchen and I’ve had a lot more time to be in the kitchen. 

At the beginning of the pandemic, we baked a lot.  I also gained a lot of weight.  While we tried a number of new recipes, hand’s down my favorite recipe was Ina Garten’s cheesecake.  It is fail proof.  You do need a springform pan – ours didn’t get a lot of use before because I was terrified of cheesecake.  And you do have to do the bit about letting it sit with the oven door open at the end.  We didn’t do raspberry though.  We made her base and the first time we topped it with fresh strawberries (YUM!) and the second time we topped it with a lemon curd I found through Southern Living (also yum and another new technique, CURD!).  Bray never hands out compliments and he said this cheesecake was amazing!

(We also tried out a lot of cake recipes, I have a strawberry lemon cake and a carrot bunny butt cake recipe if you’d like it!)

As temperatures have heated up though, I’ve wanted cool things for dinner.  So less of my chicken enchiladas and pot pie (though those still make appearances, it’s just rarer) and more salads and crisp dinner features. 

I love gazpacho.  So I started with that.  You know I’m obsessed with the Pioneer Woman, so I started with her gazpacho recipe, but I also added a couple of adjustments from Ina Garten’s recipe, and I added more cucumber because it’s the freshest, and I added a little red pepper to add some more spice. 

On the salad front, I’ve tried several, but nothing beats a cobb salad.  They are simple but spectacularly delicious and everyone in my family gobbles them down.  They’re all avocado/egg/tomato/bacon enthusiasts.  The only adjustment I make for the kids is the blue cheese which Bray and I love.  I follow the Pioneer Woman’s suggestion down to the letter except I did not make our own salad dressing (wah-wah, but in the summer you just want to be outside). 

To round out my summer cooking list, I’ll highlight my deviled eggs and potato salad. 

I never have enough deviled eggs.  I sit them out before lunch or dinner and they are gone before we can even fill our plates.  We all five LOVE deviled eggs.  I use a pretty basic recipe.  I boil a half dozen eggs, which makes 12 deviled eggs, but clearly I need to boil an entire dozen instead.  However, this base is for a half dozen total eggs.  I don’t have exact measurements but I use a little less than ¼ cup of real mayonnaise and a more than a tablespoon of yellow mustard – you’ll see this theme in my potato salad too – I like them more mustard-y than mayo-y.  Then I add dill pickle relish to taste, at least a tablespoon.  I pour in a splash of dill pickle juice and then salt and pepper and mix together.  After filling the eggs, I top with paprika.  MMMMMM!

For potato salad, it’s not very exact either.  I make big batches when Bray’s family gets together.  I use, big surprise here, the Pioneer Woman’s recipe as my template.  Except I use more potatoes, less mayo, and more mustard.  She calls for 1 ½ cups of mayo and 4 tbsp of yellow mustard.  I would say I don’t use more than a cup of mayo, and I use more than 4 tbsp of yellow mustard as well as a splash of Dijon mustard.  I absolutely love dumping in a bunch of sliced small dill pickles (never sweet for me) and because I add more potatoes I also add more egg.  Further, I only partially peel my potatoes because I like some skin on and I prefer red potatoes to russet.  Finally I just cut and mash them after they come out of the pot because I prefer there to be some chunks in my potato salad rather than just having it smooth. 

So that’s what I’m cooking right now. 

What about you?

I love new recipes!!! Please share what you are baking or cooking over the pandemic and we’ll take some pictures of us making it!