As a young girl growing up in a big old farmhouse, there were certain places in my home I’d learned to avoid. I’m not sure when it began, but I know who’s to blame. My brother. His favorite pastime was to tease and ultimately scare the daylights out of me. 

First, there was the basement. I was absolutely convinced that some evil monster was lurking among the cobwebs and dark shadows beyond the steps. It was cold and damp, and strange noises echoed from the furnace room. Every now and then, my mom would send me downstairs for some canned green beans or tomatoes. If speedy stair-climbing had been an Olympic event, I’d have won the gold. I’d grab that jar, then spin around and take the steps two at a time until I reached the door to safety.     

The monster that hid under my bed was even worse. I knew he was there, just waiting for the right moment to reach out and grab my ankle as I stepped into bed. But I outsmarted him. Each night I’d turn off my light and with a running leap, jump into bed with a height and form most long-jumpers could only hope to achieve.      

But how remarkable it was, those monsters disappeared whenever someone was with me. If a friend of mine stayed overnight, that leg-snatching monster under my bed didn’t give me a bit of trouble. And trips to the basement? Well I was confident - even downright brave if I wasn’t alone. 

Now that I’m a grown-up, I realize there are still scary places I try to avoid. But this time, they’re in my mind. When I send my kids off to school, I’m fearful for their safety and well-being. Sometimes I’m afraid of the future and what might be in store for me and my family. The very thought of three teenaged daughters with drivers licenses and boyfriends makes me very afraid!

But here’s the good news. I am not alone. I have the ultimate secret weapon. God is with me wherever I go.

So the next time I head toward a dark and scary place, I want to turn my fear into faith. Next time I’ll invite God to go along.  

"Fear not, for I am with you." - Isaiah 41:10

Have you ever wished you could see the world through someone else’s eyes? You know, put yourself in their shoes, so to speak? Well, that’s what I’m doing this week.  

Most of the time, I write about my own life experiences. But every now and then, I spot someone with an inspiring story and I just want to help them share it. It’s called ghostwriting. (Sounds kind of mysterious, doesn’t it?)   

It can be a challenge, putting myself in someone else’s shoes. After all, how do you describe someone else’s thoughts, feelings and memories? I once wrote a story for a man that had fallen through the ice while fishing and was rescued by a mysterious bystander. My biggest challenge was making the story sound like he was telling it – not me. But I’d only gone ice fishing once in my life – and I’m definitely not a man! I found myself asking, “So then what were you thinking?” throughout the entire interview.

But ghostwriting can also be very rewarding. How often do we get the chance to peek inside someone else’s heart and life? Writing other people's stories also helps me keep the right perspective when it comes to my writing. It’s not about me.

So, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work on a story I’m writing for a friend of mine. You might say I’m kicking off my shoes and squeezing into hers. And that’s not easy. Her feet are two sizes smaller than mine. 

In the meantime, I thought I’d share a story I wrote a couple of years ago for another friend, Michelle Smyth. She’s the mother of a child with special needs who unexpectedly found her purpose in life through her son’s autism diagnosis. I think she has an inspiring story. As it turned out, the nice folks at Chicken Soup for the Soul thought so too. Her story was published in Chicken Soup for the Soul: Find Your Happiness back in October 2011. Click here to read My Detour to Destiny. I think you’ll enjoy it!

*Photo taken from www.freedigitalphotos.net -"Portrait Of A Thoughtful Teen Blonde Girl" by stockimages

Grocery shopping with kids. It’s one of those unavoidable joys of motherhood that ranks right up there with diaper changing and helping with algebra homework. I try to avoid it whenever possible. 

The fun usually begins in aisle two. “Chocolate doughnuts! Please Mom?” My youngest looks at me with hopeful delight.

“Oh no, we don’t need doughnuts.” I shake my head and focus my attention back to steering the wobbly-wheeled shopping cart around a display of pop tarts. But the next aisle holds its own challenges.

My middle daughter points toward the grape soda, then smacks her hands together in desperate prayer, “Please can’t we get it? It’s so good!”

I am now on a mission. “No," I say with the strength and grit of a drill sergeant. "We are going to finish our shopping, and we are not buying anything that’s not on the list!” Determined to hold my ground, I trek through the Twinkies, charge past the Cheetos, and cruise by the cookies.      

I don’t recall teaching my kids how to ask for things. It comes so naturally. They’re my kids, and they’re pretty comfortable asking me for the desires of their heart. They may not like it when I say no, but I think they know it’s because I love them and want what’s best for them.  

In a way, this reminds me of my relationship with God. Philippians 4:6 says, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” How great is that? God says we can approach Him with anything!

I know, sometimes God says no. And it can be difficult when it's something I want so much – something that I think would bring me joy and happiness. But I have to remember that God sees the whole picture. He loves me and knows what’s best for me. Whenever His answer is no, I try to remember this one simple thought. He’s God, and I’m not.

I guess it’s like cruising down the candy aisle with three kids. Sometimes you've got to say no, but how sweet it is when the answer is yes!

*Photo from freedigitalphotos.net: "Swirl Candy On Sticks" by Stuart Miles

I looked over our schedule. As usual, all three girls had after school activities. But after some quick calculations, I realized that for once, the timing of their activities worked out perfectly.

4 PM - Take Madison to gymnastics.
5 PM - Pick Taylor up from volleyball.
5:30 PM – Take Emily to her volleyball game.
7 PM - Pick Madison up after gymnastics.

Finally, a day I wouldn’t have to ask for help! Curt wouldn’t need to leave work a little early. Another mom wouldn’t need to give my kid a ride. I even had time to watch Emily’s volleyball game before picking Madison up from gymnastics.

I felt empowered. Today I could do it all!

Everything was going perfectly. That is, until my cell phone rang on the way to pick up Madison. My caller ID flashed the name of another mom from gymnastics.

“Hey Sheri, did you forget to pick up Madison?” My mind started spinning.

Madison? What? Of course not!   

“No,” I said, checking the dashboard clock. Why was this woman calling me? I was five minutes early.

“Well, you know it’s Tuesday …”

And as soon as she said Tuesday, I remembered. On Wednesdays and Fridays gymnastics ended at seven, but on Tuesdays, it ended at six.

A sharp pang of guilt hit me in the gut. Madison has been waiting for an hour!   

I parked the van and hustled inside. Madison sat on the floor with two other girls, playing a game. She looked up from a handful of cards. “Hey Mom, it’s Tuesday, remember?” She grinned.

It didn’t take her long to get over it. But it did for me.

What kind of mother forgets her child? I couldn’t imagine what the other mom must have been thinking. She was the mother of seven – yes, SEVEN – girls. For heavens sake, I couldn’t even keep track of three!

I saw her the next day.

“I can’t believe I forgot it was Tuesday,” I shook my head, still embarrassed by the whole ordeal.

“Oh don’t feel bad,” she said. “The other day I took the wrong kid to meet the wrong teacher at back to school night.”

“Really?” I relaxed a bit.

“Yep. I’ve got five kids in five different schools.”

“Say no more,” I said, feeling better by the minute. We shared a good laugh and I was reminded of one important lesson.

No one can do it all.