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Beth Hartman Allison

@_beth.allison_

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Ever so slowly, trying to find the keyboard again. Call it an exercise in self-preservation. Call it therapy. Call it futile. Whatever it is, I think I need it. Maybe you do, too. Link in bio. by @_beth.allison_

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9 months ago

The night she was born, it was raining.

Fall was poking around in subtle ways… the days were feeling softer, and nights were creeping in earlier. The late summer sun was finally backing off its relentless agenda.

The doctor didn’t show for the actual birth. Claire had plans, and she was ready to see them through. She had no time for hospital protocols or birthing logistics. It was time to enter the world, and she knew it. And it was perfect timing. And there was a perfect baby. And there was rain. And the promise of a change of season that would change our lives.

This feels dramatic. 😏 But, if we aren’t dramatic over birthdays, what else should we truly be dramatic over? Birthdays are worthy of drama, and I’m here for it.

Happy 19th, to this beautiful change of season. Life will forever be different; and I will forever be grateful. by @_beth.allison_

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a year ago

Growing up the youngest of five siblings, and the only daughter, rarely did my daydreams of the future consist of motherhood. Family life was bananas, if I'm honest. And four brothers leading the charge inevitably resulted in complications, foiled plans, a broken window or someone with a busted lip.

The way I saw it, maybe a quiet life as a spinster with cats was the way to get through all this unscathed.

But, then I met this guy in college, and I apparently emptied the trash folder of my archived family memories with one quick keystroke. Because I was married quicker than a hiccup, and painting a nursery with rice still rattling around in my shoes.

And wouldn't you know it? God would plop these amazing little gems in our nest, and they're girls, and they're precious, and sweet, and they don't punch each other (much), and they smell good (mostly), and they create the most beautiful sibling friendship (except when they don't), and okay... yes... there were busted lips and broken glass, but it SURELY wasn't as bonkers as my childhood. Right? Surely.

Fast forward. (How I hate the phrase. Two alliterative, seemingly benign words. And yet, the gut punch they deliver.) Fast forward 20 years. I blinked, and paused with my eyes closed for just a nanosecond, to take it all in. And when my eyes opened, the room had changed, and the humans in it had stepped back a few paces, and they stood on the horizon at a distance, like they were part of some optical illusion in a fun house, perfectly still and looking back at me in full-grown bodies, ready to take one last step through the door behind them. And they, too, said, "this life is bananas."

And so, we said "be free" to these little birds, and they didn't balk at the prompting. So, now they're out there... making plans for a life so very different from this one they've known. And maybe it includes cats and quiet. But if I were made to place a wager, I'd bet they're sniffing down adventure, discovery, a sense of self and an understanding of place. Not that they need to. Because I see so very clearly who they are.

And yet, I think... the best part will be watching them when they finally see themselves, too. taken in Saint Louis University by @_beth.allison_

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a year ago

Today marks 20 years of motherhood for me. And I have the good Lord and this beautiful human to thank. And while I know this is laborious in length (the reel, not the 20 years… although, some of these days and seasons do feel quite long), the real reason I post it is for me. So that through the wonders of technology and data storage (and likely data breaches) and all sorts of interwebbing I’ll never care to understand, I will be able to see this little montage in years to come, and remember when she was a tender twenty years old. And I’ll sniff. And my throat will close up a little. And the screen will suddenly blur with tears. And once again I’ll try so hard to understand how time, in its beauty and cruelty, produces such wonderful things… things like a unimaginably beautiful woman who breathes and loves and laughs and makes me all weepy inside. Abby, I’m so thankful you were born. 💛 by @_beth.allison_

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a year ago

And just like that… 💜🎓 by @_beth.allison_

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a year ago

From her first day @therootelementary 🚀 to her last day @fayarpublicschools FHS 💜🐶, she somehow knew she’d start and end in blue. How we got here, as the time-worn cliche echos long and forboding and eternal, is so hard to comprehend. by @_beth.allison_

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a year ago

He wouldn’t tell you, but I will. That smile up there… that genuine, in-the-moment smile… has been a rarity this year. Some would say that’s a faux pas to admit on the social “only post what’s acceptable” platforms. But, when you’ve had a year like he’s had, and when you’ve come around the sun still standing, still breathing, still scratching to find every single scrap of what’s good in the world (…and to be clear, there is STILL so much good) I think it’s worth celebrating the truth. Happy Birthday, to this guy. Life will always have its hard knocks, true. But as the famous ones have said, it’s not what happens to you… it’s how you handle it. He’s on the podium, without question. Here’s to another lap successfully run! And here’s to a year ahead with many more smiles! ❤️🎉😊 Happy Birthday, smiley. by @_beth.allison_

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2 years ago

What a ride. 💜👑 Such an incredible week of memories with @claireallisonn_ and all these beautiful, deserving young women. Fayetteville Homecoming 2024. by @_beth.allison_

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2 years ago

Life’s been hitting heavy in our current chapter… as life tends to do.

And under the load, I’ve let some things slip… as I tend to do.

She turned 18 in September. It feels like a major seasonal shift. Because, it is. I can’t help but to selfishly get sad… it’s really easy to mourn the passing of childhood. It feels good to steep in the loss of simpler times, less complicated emotions and an innocence that we all know can only exist in those few short years of childhood. It’s gone in a sigh; and no matter how many times the wise who have walked the path ahead of us have prophesied for us to hear, we never really believed them… until it was our turn.

It’s all so fleeting, as things tend to be.

But, I’m so grateful for the short years behind us, and hopeful for the years ahead.

Claire, you’re a beautiful human. A loyal friend. An old soul. And a generous spirit. And I’m so proud of you, as I tend to be.

Happy 18th birthday, Pooks. I may be a month behind, but I’m always looking ahead at the life awaiting you. As I tend to do. 💛💛💛 “For I know well the plans I have for you, says the Lord.” by @_beth.allison_

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2 years ago

Coerced her for a first day of school pic. She understood the assignment. 💛💙

From Root Rocket ➡️ University of Tulsa Sophomore. Blast off, Abby. 🚀 by @_beth.allison_

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2 years ago

My most lost moments in life are on this parenting journey.

I don’t mean moments I’ve lost to time and fading memory. (To be sure… there are plenty of those.) But I mean, when I feel most lost… when I’m wandering… when I’m tapping around blindly for a foothold.

Yesterday, this baby stood on the front stoop for the last first time. And the path I’m on started to swirl and spin; and for a moment, I didn’t know which way to point my feet… or how to steer my heart.

But, by the incomprehensible brilliance of her Creator, SHE knows where to go. And how to get there.

And although I feel little lost, I think… how absolutely lovely that truth is.

#senioryear by @_beth.allison_

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2 years ago

And then she was 19. Happy Birthday to the one who makes me laugh with the slightest side eye, makes whisper frantic prayers with the occasional “Um. MOM” text, and the one who first made me a mom. Love you, Boo. by @_beth.allison_

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2 years ago