perfect on the inside.
Hair Bows and Letting Go
Even with the children, I cared too much what image they were presenting to the world. I made sure that our little girls had their matching outfits and big bows and little smocked dresses that seemed to be the expected norm within our circle of friends. Everyone looked at us as the âstarâs family,â seeing if we were coiffed and dressed in the latest fashion. Subconsciously, I think I wanted people to look at Mattie and think, Oh, look, Mattieâs perfect, just like Denise, and Denise is such a good mother!
Mattie was not particularly helpful with this little illusion. She hated ribbons and frills. Sheâd grab hold of the cute bow in her shiny hair, throw it down on the ground, and be happy as could be. Just like me when I was littleâas my daddy had reminded me so often over the yearsâshe wanted to be a boy. She had a boyâs bowl haircut, and only wanted to wear boy tennis shoes, jeans, and baggy shirts. She did not want dolls. She did not want tiny monogrammed purses. If I tried to accessorize her, sheâd sneak away and take off the cute little pink outfits and put on boyish clothes that didnât match.
At the time, I was so insecure that I thought people would see mismatched Mattie and think I was a bad mother. Now, though, whenever I see a child wearing strange clothes that donât go together, I donât think that she has a bad mother. No, I think sheâs got a mother with a healthy enough sense of self-confidence that she can let the child dress herselfâsheâs not hyper-concerned about what other people might think.
A Circle of Friends
In fall 1995, Mattie started kindergarten at a private school in Nashville. I was glad to connect with other women who had children Mattieâs age. One of them, Jane Smith, sent out an invitation to all the moms of the lower school students, inviting us to be a part of a prayer group in her home. I thought that being a part of this group would be a great way to make new friends, so I joined.
Not only did I form some great, long-lasting friendships, but my time spent with these women was the beginning of my real spiritual growth. We studied Christian parenting books. We confided our concerns for each of our children and prayed for Godâs blessings and protection for them.
Since I hadnât yet found a church home, Jane invited me to visit hers. We started attending regularly. Mattie had school friends in her Sunday school class, so she enjoyed it. I also found a Sunday school class with a very gifted teacher, Robert Wolgemuth. I was drawn to the Scripture like never before. For the first time in my life, the Bible came alive for me. It was relevant. Personal. True. I began to look forward to Sunday mornings. The Gospel was presented in a way that I could apply it to my everyday life. Finally, my spiritual life was beginning to get back on track.
Dream Home
By this time, we had found a 140-acre horse farm on one of the most beautiful roads in Tennessee. The property itself wasnât particularly scenic, though, since it was rimmed by rusty, barbed-wire fences, and the pastures were full of weeds, sickly trees, and lots of manure. Eighteen yearsâworth of sawdust from the barn had been dumped beside the gentle river that wound past the acreage. It was a mess.
----
JUST AS IN HIS SONGWRITING AND PERFORMING LIFE, HIS CREATIVITY AND ENERGY SEEMED BOUNDLESS. EVERYTHING HE TOUCHED TURNED TO GOLD.
----
But Alan could see past all that to our new, long-term home. We bought it. It took a year just to clean it up, a year when Alan would walk the property every day he was in town, dreaming about its potential.
We built a quaint log cabin at the back of our land, overlooking the Harpeth River, and a red-roofed barn with a large apartment upstairs for guests. Then we built Alanâs nineteen-car garage, an enclosed tennis court and basketball gym, and our gleaming white
Hair Bows and Letting Go
Even with the children, I cared too much what image they were presenting to the world. I made sure that our little girls had their matching outfits and big bows and little smocked dresses that seemed to be the expected norm within our circle of friends. Everyone looked at us as the âstarâs family,â seeing if we were coiffed and dressed in the latest fashion. Subconsciously, I think I wanted people to look at Mattie and think, Oh, look, Mattieâs perfect, just like Denise, and Denise is such a good mother!
Mattie was not particularly helpful with this little illusion. She hated ribbons and frills. Sheâd grab hold of the cute bow in her shiny hair, throw it down on the ground, and be happy as could be. Just like me when I was littleâas my daddy had reminded me so often over the yearsâshe wanted to be a boy. She had a boyâs bowl haircut, and only wanted to wear boy tennis shoes, jeans, and baggy shirts. She did not want dolls. She did not want tiny monogrammed purses. If I tried to accessorize her, sheâd sneak away and take off the cute little pink outfits and put on boyish clothes that didnât match.
At the time, I was so insecure that I thought people would see mismatched Mattie and think I was a bad mother. Now, though, whenever I see a child wearing strange clothes that donât go together, I donât think that she has a bad mother. No, I think sheâs got a mother with a healthy enough sense of self-confidence that she can let the child dress herselfâsheâs not hyper-concerned about what other people might think.
A Circle of Friends
In fall 1995, Mattie started kindergarten at a private school in Nashville. I was glad to connect with other women who had children Mattieâs age. One of them, Jane Smith, sent out an invitation to all the moms of the lower school students, inviting us to be a part of a prayer group in her home. I thought that being a part of this group would be a great way to make new friends, so I joined.
Not only did I form some great, long-lasting friendships, but my time spent with these women was the beginning of my real spiritual growth. We studied Christian parenting books. We confided our concerns for each of our children and prayed for Godâs blessings and protection for them.
Since I hadnât yet found a church home, Jane invited me to visit hers. We started attending regularly. Mattie had school friends in her Sunday school class, so she enjoyed it. I also found a Sunday school class with a very gifted teacher, Robert Wolgemuth. I was drawn to the Scripture like never before. For the first time in my life, the Bible came alive for me. It was relevant. Personal. True. I began to look forward to Sunday mornings. The Gospel was presented in a way that I could apply it to my everyday life. Finally, my spiritual life was beginning to get back on track.
Dream Home
By this time, we had found a 140-acre horse farm on one of the most beautiful roads in Tennessee. The property itself wasnât particularly scenic, though, since it was rimmed by rusty, barbed-wire fences, and the pastures were full of weeds, sickly trees, and lots of manure. Eighteen yearsâworth of sawdust from the barn had been dumped beside the gentle river that wound past the acreage. It was a mess.
----
JUST AS IN HIS SONGWRITING AND PERFORMING LIFE, HIS CREATIVITY AND ENERGY SEEMED BOUNDLESS. EVERYTHING HE TOUCHED TURNED TO GOLD.
----
But Alan could see past all that to our new, long-term home. We bought it. It took a year just to clean it up, a year when Alan would walk the property every day he was in town, dreaming about its potential.
We built a quaint log cabin at the back of our land, overlooking the Harpeth River, and a red-roofed barn with a large apartment upstairs for guests. Then we built Alanâs nineteen-car garage, an enclosed tennis court and basketball gym, and our gleaming white
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