Hey podcast listeners, the topics are pouring in through our text messaging pod ring is what I'm calling you.

You can join it 833 947.947. 3684. Text the word pod. And then just send us messages. We interact with you,

answer your questions about products and classes, and take your suggestions

so that we can have a great podcast show. Hello, you're back. Today's message is from a T with Julie email.

You can sign up for these.

They come out once a week on Saturday

by going to Bravewriter.com slash T, and then these little missives will land inside your inbox as a dose of

encouragement every Saturday. Hello friends. I get email every day from parents who love their kids who

think they've got the most creative, smart, surprising little people living under their

rubs. They share stories, their children's writing, photos, and detailed accounts of what their kids are doing. These parents are

wowed, amazed, and they should be. Their children are amazing. So are yours. Yet often even in the same email a paragraph of worry inevitably

follows. What if this brilliant child isn't on course to graduate at 18. What if this parent isn't

pushing hard enough to fit in lab sciences or essays? What if the child next

door who goes to school is completing more official work? What if

trusting your child's natural learning process is a mistake? How can a parent know

if he or she is traveling down the wrong road before it's too late?

You know, it's like two people live inside our minds, the one that knows our children, and the one that knows our children, and the one that doubts we know our children.

To trust means to let go of worry, yet worry defines us. It's what allows us to feel important, involved, and prepared.

Worry proves we care. Worry shows that we are invested.

Worry requires maintenance, which involves Google searches,

online discussions, seeking counsel and advice,

and the endless work of revising the plan.

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