This month, I am diving into several “rapid fire” questions. Know that I am thankful for each of you and appreciate the questions. Keep ’em coming! If you have a question you’d like me to answer, please submit it via email at hello@marybethchapman.com.
What is your favorite type of desert?
So I’m not a chocolate lover. I mean, I like chocolate but can live without it. If it is a dessert worth eating for me, it probably has caramel or cream cheese included in the ingredients.
I have a Goldendoodle dog who is 7 months old. I don’t think I’ve ever heard any stories about any pets. Wondering if you and Steven have any pets now?
Boone is our sweet COVID puppy who just turned 1. He is a “teddy bear” dog … half Bichon Frise and half Shih Tzu. He is pretty ornery, but his best trick is ringing a bell when he wants to go out. He belongs to Shaoey and Stevey Joy, and Steven and I act like he is an inconvenience. But honestly, we love us some Booney. You can follow him, actually, on Instagram at Boonestagram217.
Or if you have had any in the past?
Best dog ever: Grayson, our beloved Weimaraner. He grew up with our oldest three children, Emily, Caleb, and Will Franklin. He passed of old age, but he was simply the best.
I really enjoyed your book! Will there be another?
The short answer is: Yes! We are actually thinking through that this season as we are becoming empty nesters. As far as the subject/topic, we are still at TBD. But I do think it will be from both me and Steven together.
What is your go to Bible verse(s)?
Psalm 34:8
Many of you have asked in one way or the other, if I have had any other embarrassing moments comparable to my trip down the Nile River that I give an account for in my book, “Choosing to SEE.” This is a letter that I wrote to Stevey Joy, recounting a moment that I just know embarrassed her and how she responded with such grace and love toward me. God has been gracious to give Steven and I a special relationship with all of our children, and I firmly believe that it is because we can talk with them, cry with them, and, for sure, laugh with them about anything. Nothing—and I mean nothing—surprises me when my children talk with me about things, and I am grateful that we can laugh and cry and be there along the way to hold one another up.
Stevey Joy,
I remember taking you to one of your first college cheer clinics. You were probably a freshman in high school. Your dad and I wanted to play it cool and honor your request for us to skedaddle once we dropped you off. So we left for the day while all the other parents stayed close by, watching their young cheerleader’s every move.
We felt proud being able to leave you there to start plotting your path toward your goal of college cheer. You had worked so hard in gymnastics, and now, it was your time to shine as a tiny tumbler and flyer.
You asked us to come back before the end of the day, so we could get the pictures and videos of all the memories you had made along with the new skills you had mastered. We were right on time. I, for sure, wasn’t going to miss a single opportunity to capture these days that I knew would fly by. When the clinic was finished, Dad and I came downstairs for “picture time,” and you had gone out onto the cheer mat to perfect some amazing new skill—by the way, I still don’t know what all these crazy stunts are called—with some macho cheer guy who was three times your size!
At any rate, being the proud mom I am, I decided to walk out onto the mat to catch that special moment in a picture … and maybe grab a video or two. I was very aware of where I was standing, and so I carefully plotted my path toward you as we were in a gymnastics gym with all the apparatuses to maneuver around. I was stepping around trampolines, tumble tracks, balance beams, and bars. (You get the picture.)
As I stepped on what I thought was a firm mat with a solid foundation on the side of a foam pit, I simultaneously realized there was no chance of undoing what was about to happen. It was already set in motion. Right there, in front of the head coach, the college cheer team, the girls attending the clinic, AND all the other parents, I flipped into the foam pit and went completely under in one fail swoop … in all of about a nano second. I lost my glasses … my flip flops … for sure, my coolness … and most of all, my pride.
I couldn’t believe what had just happened. However, you never lost your cool or rolled your eyes. You didn’t act like you didn’t know who I was or flash me a disgusted look as I was hoisted out of the ever-sinking pit by two very muscular stunt guys.
As I reemerged from deep within the pit—with the help of those who quickly came to my rescue—I quickly jumped to my feet as if to think maybe no one saw me. I looked immediately to you to see if you had seen me embarrass you, hoping that you were concentrating on your skill and hadn’t noticed the commotion. And you know what? All I saw was a smile as if to say, “Well, that’s my mom!”
I think from that day on, you may have been known as the girl whose mom fell in the foam pit. I mean talking about making a splash!
Stevey Joy, as you know, I can write the book on what not to do in the parenting category. However, I want you to know that in spite of my missteps, I will always love you. I am so proud of you, and I’ll try to not embarrass you as you move into college in the next month or so.
With Love,
Mom