So We Won't Forget...a writer collaboration

on traffic jams, doing hair, and the Holy Spirit through 11 year old eyes.

More than a year ago I started writing a series I affectionately called So I Won’t Forget. This has become the means by which I put remembering into practice—the way I tune my senses just enough to see what God has been doing in the nooks and crannies of my life.

Today I have the GREAT joy of featuring other writers who have joined me in this process for a new collaboration called So We Won’t Forget. Please take the time to check out their work by reading and subscribing. We both know you’re going to click their name just below this divider and do a little Substack creeping seeking. We can all use more writers who are putting truth and beauty into the world—this is one easy way to find them.

You can join us too. If you want to be intentional about remembering, it does require a little bit of work. Maybe this is the nudge you need to get started.

Here’s how to join us.

And without further lead up…allow me to introduce

Melissa Anderson

,

Holly C Sharp

, and

Kelly S. Phillips

.

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The Slow Lane to Humanity by

Melissa Anderson

of Let’s Find Joy

The traffic here is dehumanizing.

Many years ago, living in Arkansas, I was speeding senselessly in my convertible Mustang, weaving through traffic on the interstate, only to end up three cars behind where I started. In that moment, I realized how pointless it was—how careless, self-absorbed, and exhausting to my soul. How much it strained my nervous system. How it eroded my sense of humanity. How it could ruin my outlook for the day.

I didn’t want to be that person anymore, so I started letting people over when their blinker turned on, allowing them to merge into slow traffic or get into the turn lane when they nearly missed it. It slowly changed my days—and my life. I was better for it. And I hoped that, even for a moment, my small acts of kindness might have brightened their day a little—that the people I showed humanity to while driving were better for it too.

But the traffic here in Seattle is never-ending. The construction is ever-shifting, so nothing is ever completely done. But the people sure seem done—faces set in hard lines, eyes fixed forward, hands thrown up in frustration.

I recently found myself falling in with the traffic mentality here. I was doing pretty well, all things considered. The line was long at the light and I stopped before the side street from the grocery store exit to not block the entrance. I planned to let one car through—the obligatory single car and nothing more. However, another car tailed that car to make sure they got through too. I could feel my frown and frustration showing clearly, kindness quickly falling away.

But the second car, just before slipping through, rolled down his window. He met my eyes—just for a moment—and offered a grateful wave and a warm smile, like a breath of fresh air in the chaos.

And I was better for it. In that small gesture, I was reminded of the power of simple kindness.

The traffic here is dehumanizing—but our choices don’t have to be.

I don’t want to forget that.

Photo by Ezequiel Garrido on Unsplash

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On Mothers and Daughters and Doing Hair by

Holly C Sharp

of Cake Hospitality

Mornings in our house are … not chill. I want to let the kids sleep as long as possible, so breakfast ends up being less sleepy chats and more “Please eat! Please eat!” This is followed by reminders of teeth brushing and what is and isn’t school uniform approved. And then comes the hair.

I have three daughters with three very dissimilar heads of hair in three different stages of maturity. The teenager, with long brunette locks, wants help and advice; and also, I have to be thoughtful with how I phrase any answer. The pre-teen with a glossy, thick, growing-out bob isn’t quite ready to have to think too hard about grooming. The 6-year-old with the whispiest hair I’ve ever seen on a child is always asking for a special hairstyle, a specific accessory, or curls (which are nearly impossible in her hair, so we’ve settled on crimping it occasionally).

As I scroll through my photo app filled with photos of the backs of my daughters' heads (so they can see what it looks like from that angle!), I am amazed at this privilege I’m carrying on as a mother to daughters. For as long as there have been mothers and daughters, we have worked together, and sometimes cried together, trying to figure out our hair.

Hair and beauty are often seen as frivolous pursuits. But doing hair allows me precious quiet moments with my daughters each morning in the midst of chaos. It gives me a chance to speak just to her, try to help her achieve something that’s important to her, and help her feel confident. It connects me to centuries of women who have gone before me, doing the same for their daughters.

Once upon a time, I imagined I would be a great mom to a family full of sons. I am so thankful that I do have a son. And I am so very glad that I have three daughters and that I get to do their hair. As they continue to mature, I know they’ll learn to do their own hair. And I hope that these moments lead to the next ones where we talk about life and dreams. I hope and pray for new ways to show them how incredible and fun and smart and beautiful they are. But for now…I’ll do their hair.

Photo by Juliane Liebermann on Unsplash

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Holy Spirit, Activate by

Kelly S. Phillips

of Bison + the Dove

My 11 year-old daughter had a time staying on top of her studies last week but managed to pull off a 78 on a difficult test. We were both shocked when she got her grade back. When I asked her how she managed to pull that off, she said, “Well, right before I started the test, I made the sign of the cross over and over saying Holy Spirit, Activate. Holy Spirit, Activate, Holy Spirit, Activate. Matilda and Vivi do it… We all kinda do it. Mom, can I have your phone now? I want to show you this new skin care that is literally the best and Tate McRae has this new song, can I play it? And can I have some time on my computer tonight?”

Ugh, Holy Spirit, deactivated… and now Mama is needing to call on it.

BUT…of all the frustrating moments she and I can have in a day, I get to take this touching glimpse into her school day with me. When I think of the state of our world or worry about our children’s future, I can now think of a bunch of little 11-year-old girls from all different backgrounds, sitting at their desks and calling on the Holy Spirit to activate and know there’s hope. Stay activated, little ones.

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What You Don’t Hear: A Letter to the Neighbor Who Left a Note

Ode to the bamboo tray

Wake Up. Look Up.

Next week the We Have This Hope podcast is back! I have 3 stories headed you way this Spring from women who are bright and wise and funny so get your walking shoes ready and charge your earbuds.

And one more reminder to consider writing your own mini-essay for the next iteration of So We Won’t Forget. This is worthwhile work so ignore any inclination that you don’t have the time or don’t have the resources to pull it off. There are people who will be blessed by what you have to say! Read more about it here.