A Simple Truth in Uncertain Times

A Simple Truth in Uncertain Times

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Therefore don’t worry about tomorrow, because tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. Matthew 6:34 (CSB)

Every day, we are bombarded with updates on what’s happening around the world and in our country, of how quickly this virus is spreading, and the toll it’s taken so far on people’s lives. Much of what we hear is scary, and many of us are experiencing loss on multiple levels. It’s hard to know how to deal with what’s at hand when we don’t know what’s ahead, and the anxiety and stress can be overwhelming.

In the midst of all this, let’s take a collective deep breath, friends. Inhale, exhale.

Today, we have right now, right here, the people and things right in front of us to care for. We can worry about what may happen, but in the end, we can’t know for sure. Stay grounded in what is certain– God is here. He has not changed, and He holds all of the world in His hands.

Inhale, exhale.

 

[bctt tweet=”Stay grounded in what is certain– God is here. He has not changed, and He holds all of the world in His hands.” username=”incourage”]

Moving Toward Hope When the Road Is Long

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After winding down a long twisty road with a wall of rock on one side and a steep drop-off on the other, I came to a dark tunnel that led straight into the heart of a mountain. I couldn’t see the light at the end, just the yellow lines in the middle, telling me to keep going.

I’ve been thinking a lot about those little yellow lines. When all visibility is gone, when merely a handbreadth of light is all you can see ahead of you, those painted lines across the pavement are literally saving your life in that moment. They’re keeping you from veering off course. They’re pointing the way you should go. And they’re saying you’re not at the end. There’s more ahead of you. Just keep moving forward and you’ll see.

Maybe that’s where you’re at right now, traversing a dark road, waiting for the light at the end to appear. Maybe you’ve been in a long season of one hardship after another, and the summer’s brightness outside doesn’t match what you feel inside. I’ve been there more times than I care to admit. And yet . . .

No matter the circumstances around us, there’s always something ahead of us, and there’s always Someone inside us guiding us forward.

We are never left without recourse. There are things we can do, even while we wait for a particular season to end. Like the yellow lines on the road — pointing the way forward to reach the other side — the following things have helped me through those challenging seasons.

1. Turn to God’s Word.

When life’s road gets bumpy, we often turn to easy comforts, like food that soothes or TV that numbs. Let’s open God’s Word instead and soak in its truth. Let’s invite Him to speak into our moments and reorient our thoughts toward Him.

2. Connect with God’s people.

Too often our pain makes us want to withdraw. We isolate ourselves in an attempt to protect our hearts from further injury. Unfortunately, this usually ends up having the opposite effect. Isolation begets loneliness. Instead, let’s ask a friend to meet for coffee, and more than anything, let’s be sure to connect with His family on Sunday mornings. After all, family and community were His ideas from the beginning.

3. Give thanks for God’s gifts.

Nothing takes our negative thoughts captive more than turning those thoughts toward all the amazing gifts God has given. It can be as simple as making a list of all the things we’re grateful for, but more than the things, let’s give thanks for the people in our lives. Oh, what a treasure we find in our loved ones!

4. Seek out ways to bless others.

This is just plain fun. When we’re in a funk and having a hard time snapping out of it, let’s find ways to be a source of joy for others, especially those we may not know very well. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy or expensive. Perhaps write a handwritten note of encouragement to an old friend or offer a warm smile and say hello to a stranger you pass in the store.

5. Enjoy the beauty of God’s creation.

When life has taken the wind out of our sails, let’s remember to lace up our shoes and walk outside. There’s nothing like feeling the warmth of the sun on our backs while breathing in the cool fresh air. And when we catch a glimpse of His handiwork, let’s stand in awe of His wonder and worship the Creator in all His glory.

When we’re intentional to do all five of these things, we move toward hope when the road is long.

After driving through the shadowy tunnel, the yellow lines in the middle eventually led to the other side, and the whole earth opened up to light, where the landscape before you takes your breath away. You have to pull over to take it all in — the majestic granite rock on both sides, the waterfall to the right, and the trees filling the valley below.

The entrance into Yosemite Valley is dramatic, going from utter darkness to sheer delight. I think it’s another picture God has painted for us to remind us that, yes, the brokenness of this world can feel like a long dark path, but soon —  sooner than we might think — the gates of heaven will open and the presence of the Almighty will be the only Light we’ll need. On that day we’ll behold a Beauty beyond anything we can imagine.

Friend, if you’re on a long hard road right now, don’t give up. Keep pressing forward.

Trust Him in the darkness, and He’ll lead you into goodness. It’s a promise.

This post was originally written in July of 2018 by Denise J. Hughes.

 

[bctt tweet=”Trust Him in the darkness, and He’ll lead you into goodness. It’s a promise. -@DeniseJHughes:” username=”incourage”]

Meet Me in the Middle

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I remember sitting in the hospital waiting room, ignoring my very full bladder because my eyes were fixed on the screen. The words next to my husband’s ID number said in surgery, but any second it could change to in recovery. That would be the moment I could breathe.

I knew he had heart issues when we got married 5 years earlier, but I never thought we would be here this soon. Heart surgery usually happened farther down the line when the kids were grown and having tiny humans of their own. But he needed this. He couldn’t wrestle with his boys or carry them in his arms without feeling faint. He couldn’t mow the lawn or take out the trash because he didn’t have the strength. Trials and tests and tears led us to the unwanted breaking point, and we finally decided to take the risk and just do it.

So here we were. We had arrived at the sacred middle ground. This place where pain from the past intersected with faith for the future. Doctors told us the success probability was high. All we had to do was wait and see, a skill that has never been my forte.

Let me say in full confidence, waiting is not for the weak. It takes strength and courage to still our hearts and trust Jesus for the days to come. And most days I wish I could be a little braver. But here’s the thing, my friend:

You are truly in such good company.

If you are a living person, you will unavoidably find yourself in the middle at some point on your journey. And at that moment you can stand and look around and know that you are not alone in your struggle to find peace in the midst of the anticipation.

There were three days between the death and resurrection of Jesus, three days for His disciples to mourn and wait and wonder about their future (even with Jesus’ clear blueprint of upcoming victory!). Their best friend and loyal Lord had died, and I am certain the absence of His light made the darkness even darker. But — and I love how there’s always a but with God —

Our middles are just as important as our beginnings and ends.

Sometimes we wish we could bypass the middle and fast-forward to the final chapter where our prayers are answered and our desires fulfilled. But we have such a kind God, and He doesn’t waste a single second in our lives. He doesn’t push the pause button when we feel like life stops moving. He is always working for the good of those who love Him, and that includes you.

For the disciples, what appeared to be defeat was actually the greatest victory ever known to man. A sorrowful end was actually a new beginning. And Jesus’ followers may not have understood, but those three days of waiting were needed. More transformation was done in seventy-two hours than any other time in history. Death lost its sting, sin no longer had a hold, and our relationship to God was wonderfully restored. Love turned over the grave and on that Easter morning when the tombstone was rolled away, our Savior revealed to the world the purpose of our hard middles.

Waiting is the breeding ground for hope. The Bible says:

For in this hope we were saved; but hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he can already see? But if we hope for what we do not yet see, we wait for it patiently.
Romans 8:24-25 (NIV)

Sweet friend, you cannot reach the end without first experiencing the middle. It’s the heart of our story, and it teaches us to live in confident expectation of God’s goodness and grace. He promises us beauty and victory and a steadfast love to see us through.

Right now I can hear my husband wrestling with our boys in the other room, so this thankful wife can attest. You may have to wait a little longer than three days, but stay hopeful. Your day of resurrection is coming.

 

[bctt tweet=”Waiting is the breeding ground for hope. -@writerbeckyb:” username=”incourage”]

I’m Afraid, but I Say “Thank You” Anyway

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I turn forty in a few months. I type that shaking my head, with eyes wide. Wow. How did that happen? Every birthday after I turned twenty-five has come with a slice of cake and a side of anxiety. Nothing stops aging. No amount of Botox, eye cream, or dieting stops the inevitable process.

My arm skin is wiggly, my eyebrows wonky, and my face is starting to sag. My teeth are moving, and I reach for the railing when I go downstairs. Aging is weird, and no one really talks about it. People talk about how to stop aging or how to reverse the process. I live with a constant state of low-grade anxiety about growing older, buy the magical face cream at Target, and secretly dread July 14th. Happiness is something I’ve always been afraid of. True, deep-down, all-out excitement actually scares me. Letting my heart fully experience the moment is something I resist. I’m reluctant to enjoy the moment because I know I can’t keep it. It’s so fleeting. Life is moving like a bullet train. I can’t do anything to slow it down. I’m afraid of death. I’m afraid of pain. I’m afraid of dying alone, in panic, gasping for air. I’m afraid of leaving my loved ones behind and the unknowns of the afterlife. I’m scared of squandering my life. These are big, gaping black holes I don’t know how to deal with.

It’s an anxiety that makes me want to avoid anything aging-related. But I let the tension fill my lungs. I stay with my fears without tucking them under my to-do list or behind busyness. I whisper prayers to Jesus. Death is scary. Terrifying, really. I don’t know how I will die; I just know that I will. I have to live in the vulnerable trust that God will continue to carry me into eternity the way He has carried me since birth.

Fear might tag along with me all the way till the end, but I don’t want it to stop me from being alive. I want to savor life without the constant fear of it slipping away. The only way I can combat my anxiety is with gratitude. It’s the pathway from knowing God is with me to experiencing peace in my soul that He actually is with me. It’s the only way. So, I breathe in deep, breathe out slowly, heart open, and give thanks.

I give thanks for the sweet smell of my afternoon tea. I relish the spice-infused flavors, warmth, and jump-start it gives my body to keep going. I thank God for the twinkle lights like touchable stars above our backyard table. Elbows knocking, children chattering, the salty taste of corn fresh from the grill, and devoured watermelon leaving behind life-sized smiles all burst my heart open in praise. I savor. I give thanks. I applaud the Maker of the universe for making moments just like these.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

I don’t want my fear to be a deterrent from all that this moment holds. So I’m going to bake cookies even when I have a tendency to burn them and buy pretty paper and write long letters to faraway friends. I will experience life through movement and soul-gasping beauty and sounds that make me actually feel something. I’m going to enjoy creation, believing that God is enthusiastically making the world go around and around for the mere delight of directing His own cinema for people to watch with awe, excitement, and wonder. I’m going to make eye contact with myself in the mirror and give thanks for another day at life. I’m growing older and into a more beautiful version of myself. I’m becoming who I’ve always been meant to be. I am so much more faithful, brave, and forgiving. I’m so much more kind, gracious, and whole.

I’ve always looked at growing older with doom, but in reality, it is my destiny. Growing old is the goal. The goal for me is to give this one life I’ve been given everything I’ve got. It is to leave a legacy of love. I’ll point to the later years of my life and fall forward. I will savor it and be savored in it. I’ll turn forty and be the one singing loudest, taking every moment in. I’m certain I’ll still be afraid, but no matter what, I’ll be saying “thank you” over and over. I’ll say it until I lose my voice. I’ll say it until my skin is translucent and my legs shake. I’ll say it with every passing year and up to my dying breath. Breathe in: Savor. Breathe out: Thank you.

Stay is a tender call to enter, to open, and to experience the echoing darkness buried beneath piles of mail and laundry and years of pain. This is a call to follow the fears and frustration to the unknown, frightening places inside. This is an invitation to let Jesus pull out a chair at the table of your soul and hear Him say, “Stay, you and your heart sit down.” Stay is about how Anjuli learned to become a little girl again, asking a big God if He could stay with someone small like her.

What a timely message to hear! We’re excited to celebrate the upcoming release of Stay on March 31. Preorder Stay on Amazon, and to add to the fun, we’re giving away FIVE copies of Stay today!

Tell us what the word stay means to you in the comments below for your chance to win!

**Giveaway closes on 3/30/2020. Winners will be notified via email.

 

[bctt tweet=”Gratitude is the pathway from knowing God is with me to experiencing peace in my soul that He actually is with me. #staybook -Anjuli Paschall:” username=”incourage”]

Paddling Hard, Going Nowhere

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We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain.
Hebrews 6:19 (NIV)

It sounded like so much fun – a family kayaking adventure in Kauai. The brochure described paddling the calm, idyllic waters of the Hanalei River with occasional sea turtle sightings as we meander our way to a private beach for snorkeling.

My husband, seven-year-old son, and I arrived at the marina excited to embark on our adventure. As the tour guide was giving us the safety instructions, I realized my dilemma:

I can’t swim and I’ve never kayaked before.

With our family of three, we were given a single and a double kayak. The obvious decision was to put our seven-year-old son with my husband, and I would ride alone.

It’s fine, I convinced myself. I’ll be wearing a life jacket. How difficult can it be to paddle a kayak?

As we set out, I quickly realized there was a rhythm in paddling I was not getting. Our guide gave me a few tips at the beginning, but I struggled to keep my kayak facing the direction of the group.

As our group calmly made their way along the scenic river, I was alone, way in the back. Instead of paddling a straight path, I was making giant S’s, clamoring to stay with my family. Our tour guide came back several times to wait for me while letting the others go on ahead. After I caught up a little, he zipped forward to lead the group again.

This embarrassing routine continued all along the river route.

Then I saw it. Panic surged as I observed rougher waters ahead where the river emptied into the ocean. Although it was just a short paddle to a private beach, I was still unable to control the direction of my kayak. I had visions of drifting out to sea.

Sometimes, life feels that way. No matter how hard we try, we can’t seem to make progress. We work harder, but the bills keep climbing. We promise ourselves we’re not going to yell at our kids today, but that strong-willed child has a way of making us want to pull our hair out. We try to eat healthier to finally lose the baby weight, but after a work deadline, we find ourselves sitting in a drive-thru for the second night in a week.

Life can feel like we are just drifting by the waves of our circumstances, overwhelmed and alone.

As I watched my group calmly paddle into the waves making their way to the sandy shores, I thrashed even harder trying to catch up to them.

After what felt like an eternity, I heard a familiar voice, “It’s okay. I’m going to hook your boat to mine.”

It was our sweet tour guide.

I was so relieved I didn’t have to paddle anymore. Even as we ventured into the waves, I felt safe and secure because my kayak was firmly anchored to his.

The storms of life can be overpowering if our souls are not securely anchored. We can strive to paddle the course of our lives on our own effort, or we can allow Jesus to be the anchor of our souls. When we are not anchored to Jesus, we will find ourselves drifting in a sea of doubt, a sea of unforgiveness, a sea of bitterness, and we will become so weary.

Anchored to His truth, He makes my path straight.
Anchored to His promises, I am firm and secure, even in rough waters.
Anchored to Jesus, I will not drown in despair or distress.
I hold on to His hope for His anchor is my assurance.

 

[bctt tweet=”We can strive to paddle the course of our lives on our own effort, or we can allow Jesus to be the anchor of our souls. -@MeiLingAu:” username=”incourage”]

True Confession Leads to the
Wonder of Resurrection

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Even now—
this is the Lord’s declaration—
turn to me with all your heart,
with fasting, weeping, and mourning. Tear your hearts,
not just your clothes,
and return to the Lord your God.
For he is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger,
abounding in faithful love, and he relents from sending disaster.
Who knows? He may turn and relent
and leave a blessing behind him,
so you can offer grain and wine
to the Lord your God.
Joel 2:12-14 (CSB)

I sat on my friend’s couch, looking at the sweet women in my small group. We were discussing the chapters we’d read in the last week, and it was time.

Nobody would know if I didn’t speak up. Though we’d been talking about the parts of the book that had encouraged and convicted us most, they had no idea how God had used one small paragraph to remove the scales from my eyes and pierce my heart with fiery truth. I didn’t have to confess. But it was time.

I took a deep breath and blurted it out. I told them how I’d thought of a friend who needed to read a specific point in our book — and how God had straightened me right up, making it clear in my heart that I was the one who needed that message. I told them how He’d brought to mind a situation in which I was the guilty party, in which I had deliberately disobeyed God’s commands.

Eyes downcast, I assured them I’d learned my lesson. I apologized, aware that I’d probably disappointed them. Their response was so kind. They understood how hard it can be to love others the way God calls us to. But like best friends do, they offered accountability alongside their grace and mercy. And in that moment, when they forgave me but didn’t excuse my actions, I realized how long it had been since I had sincerely confessed a sin.

Of course, I apologize for mistakes all the time. And certainly, in quiet moments in a church service or the carpool line or the shower, I might be hit with conviction. But in the same breath I utter a quick “sorry,” I immediately move into gratitude for forgiveness and fresh mercies, vowing to try harder and do better next time.

Facing my sin that morning, I saw clearly my need for true confession, for the fasting and weeping and mourning that comes when we recognize just how far from holy we are. Don’t get me wrong! I don’t think God intends for us to wallow in our regret, to stay stuck in the mud of our mistakes without hope or healing. He is, after all, a God of forgiveness and mercy. He’s a God who loves us so much He sent His Son to take the punishment for our sins. But if we don’t acknowledge our brokenness or the severity of our sins, if we shrug them off as no big deal or assume it’s all good because we are forgiven, we’re missing the point. We’re missing the point of what Jesus did for us on the cross, and we’re missing the blessing of feeling the weight of our sin lifted off of us.

If it’s been a while since confessing your sin caused you to mourn before you rejoiced over God’s grace, I invite you to join me in a posture of humble repentance this Lent season. Let’s spend the next few weeks reflecting on God’s goodness while also taking a hard look at ourselves. And when we see all the ways we fall short of the glory of God, let’s not sweep our grief or waywardness under the carpet. Let’s be honest about it and believe that we aren’t bearing the burden of them ourselves — God bore them for us on the cross. Let’s allow that reality to sink in.

Let us prepare for the wonder of the resurrection by remembering just how much we need it. Let us turn to the Lord with hearts truly broken over our transgressions, more grateful than ever for His abounding love and forgiveness.

Let’s pray together.

God, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I’ve taken Your lavish grace for granted, overlooking and underestimating my sin. Please forgive me. Please bring to mind the things I need to confess and give me the courage to turn them over to You. Thank You, Lord, for loving me so much that You died for my every sin. Thank You for not being content to leave me in my mess, for remembering me even when I forget how much I need You. Thank You, Jesus. Amen.

Excerpt from Journey to the Cross: Forty Days to Prepare Your Heart for Easter by Mary Carver.

It’s not too late to have a meaningful Lenten season. Let us send you a FREE sampler from our Lenten devotional, Journey to the Cross! Journey to the Cross: Forty Days to Prepare Your Heart for Easter was written with women of all stages in mind so that we can all better experience the power and wonder of Easter with intentionality and depth. We hope it will bless your Lenten season.

Get your FREE sampler from Journey to the Cross!

Parking Lot Praises for a Prodigal Daughter

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Lies and betrayal replaced bedtime prayers as my precious ballerina daughter transformed into a rebellious stranger. Throughout high school she tested home rules, but college life offered additional freedoms too hard to resist. Following graduation, she moved in with her boyfriend and walked the path of a prodigal.

As she turned away from me and God, my heart shattered. I blamed myself and questioned my abilities as a Christian mother. Guilt, shame, and depression enveloped me. I cried and begged God for answers. Through the silence, I prayed.

I prayed like my daughter’s life depended on it because I believed it did. As Satan spoke lies into her life, I prayed truths. I inserted my daughter’s name into forty scriptures and prayed forty truths, over and over for four years.

Dear Lord, I pray my daughter will trust in You with all her heart and not depend on her own understanding. Guide her in seeking Your will in all she does, and show her which path to take. (Proverbs 3:5-6 NLT)

Dear Lord, help my daughter to become a new person in Christ. Please remove her old life and let a new life begin. (2 Corinthians 5:17 NLT)

God hadn’t given up on her and neither would I. He loves the lost and proved it on the cross. They hold a special place in His heart as described in Luke 15 — love stories of lost coins, sheep, and children.

I wish I could share it was easy to pray and trust God, but I can’t. I failed most days. Frustration became a constant companion due to God’s silence. Prayer upon prayer, year after year — had God heard me?

God, how long do I wait and watch for her return?

As long as necessary, He seemed to answer.

One November day in a parking lot, I answered my phone and heard miracle words, “Mom, I want to come home.” I listened as tears fell. My prodigal daughter wanted to start over. She wanted to come home.

In that parking lot, I experienced the power of a great God. I discovered the immense joy of an answered prayer that only God could orchestrate. He moved in my daughter’s life as only a powerful God could. I witnessed God being God, and parking lot praises began.

But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.
Luke 15:20 (NIV)

Perhaps the father cried as he embraced his son during this precious reunion; I cried, prayed, and dusted my daughter’s bedroom in anticipation of her return. The father offered a robe, ring, and sandals as welcome home gifts; I placed fresh sheets on her bed and hung a gold wreath in her room to celebrate the holidays and happy homecomings.

She arrived broken and apprehensive with boxes, bags, and furniture. Lot of hugs accompanied the new hurdles we faced. Coming home didn’t translate to being healed. We needed to rebuild our relationship and earn trust again. More importantly, she needed to find her way back to her Heavenly Father. Much time and patience were required, and God granted both to us.

On her first night home, my daughter asked me to pray for her — more miracle words. I prayed for wisdom and strength for our unknown future, and I praised God for being a God who hears and answers prayers, even in parking lots.

For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found. So they began to celebrate.
Luke 15:24 (NIV)

This post was originally written in March 2018 by Krista Lynn Campbell.

 

[bctt tweet=”I praised God for being a God who hears and answers prayers. #motherhood #parenting -Krista Lynn Campbell:” username=”incourage”]

The State of Our Hearts

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But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”
1 Samuel 16:7 (CSB)

Social media can create a lethal environment of comparison and competition — even, perhaps especially, when it comes to good things: a clean and organized home, happy children, eating delicious food, serving the marginalized. It’s easy to feel insecure or inadequate, and despite everything that’s happening in the world right now, those feelings might not easily hide away.

We’re constantly scrolling trying to stay on top of the latest news, but in the midst of it, we might see other parents who are more capably creating a productive home life for their kids stuck at home. We might see those with privileges we can only dream of on a regular day, let alone during a crisis. Our lack may come out in anger and frustration toward those closest to us, but it doesn’t have to be that way.

We don’t have to pretend to have it all or have it altogether.

It’s not what we post that matters but the state of our hearts that matters the most. How do we treat those in our homes when everyone is in everybody else’s space? What’s our attitude like in response to the inconveniences caused by others, by the pandemic? Are we judging or are we compassionate? Are we looking out to see who’s in need or are only looking inward, hoarding everything we can because we can?

God looks at our hearts, desiring them to look more like His. May we be reflections of our God — loving others, advocating for them, caring for them as we do for ourselves.

 

[bctt tweet=”It’s not what we post that matters but the state of our hearts that matters the most. ” username=”incourage”]

When You Don’t Have Any Answers

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Facebook is a terrible way to learn a friend has died.

A heavy feeling settled in my chest as my newsfeed swarmed with strangers writing messages to Julie about shared memories.

When I saw the first “RIP,” I crumpled into a mess of tears.

Julie and I met in the radiation waiting room at MD Anderson Cancer Center. In May 2011, I reported to Waiting Room J each weekday at my assigned time. It didn’t take long to recognize the familiar faces of those with similar appointment times.

Julie struck up a conversation with me during my second week of radiation. She was about my age and recognized me from the ninth floor Sarcoma Center waiting room. (Cancer demands a lot of time in waiting rooms.) Although she was clearly in pain from the growing tumor in her leg, her smile was brilliant, shining from a face adorned with a spunky, color-streaked wig.

We bonded quickly over the chemotherapy regimen we’d both endured and the experience of being moms with cancer. We shared our life stories and cancer stories, and I learned that while chemo caused my tumor to shrink like a snowball in a frying pan, Julie’s tumor grew steadily and ominously.

We celebrated the end of Julie’s radiation, and she stood proudly beside me as I rang the bell at the end of mine. We planned to see each other when I returned to Houston six weeks later for surgery. But by then, Julie was gone.

I never found out exactly how she died. When you make friends in a radiation waiting room you don’t know each other’s people. I never met her friends or family. I had no one to grieve with, no one to share common memories with, no one to answer my questions about her final days. Did she suffer? Did she die in the hospital? Did she have enough warning to say goodbye to her son? I’ll never know.

I’d been battling cancer for nine months when Julie died, and I hadn’t yet asked God why. It’s not because I’m a spiritual giant with unshakeable faith; it just never occurred to me to ask. I knew the brokenness of this fallen world, and I trusted God to use my suffering to accomplish His loving purposes for me. From the beginning of my cancer journey, I could see Him chipping away at my self-sufficiency and drawing me further into dependence on Him.

But when Julie died, “Why?” was suddenly the only question in my mind. Why would God allow a single mom with a young child to die? Why was He allowing me to survive? Again, I didn’t have the answers, and I never will.

I do know one thing: I’ll never regret Julie reaching out to me in Waiting Room J. I’m better for having known her. She inspired me with her courage through pain. She taught me to trust the Lord more deeply, even without the answers I craved.

It’s easy to believe God’s promises when life provides answers to all your questions. But that isn’t trust. Trust is belief that perseveres through adversity. Trust struggles through the answer-less places and strengthens in spite of the questions.

Because of Julie, I wrestled in that in-between place where I’ve been ripped from a problem-free life but still lack answers. In that difficult place, God grows my faltering faith into tested trust.

Are you in that place today, friend? You’re not alone.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me;
your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
Psalm 23:4 (ESV)

I return to that wrestling place often, and each time, the Lord pours out His presence, peace, and rest. I can’t say I like it there. I’d rather have an easy life or a clear understanding of the silver lining to my suffering. But by the Lord’s power at work in me, I’ll keep walking with Him through the in-between, trust-growing place until He takes me Home and all my questions fade away.

This post was originally written in March 2018 by Marissa Henley.

 

[bctt tweet=”In the midst of pain and faltering faith, the Lord pours out His presence, peace, and rest. -@marissahenley:” username=”incourage”]

Faith Like a Child

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A set of stairs wrapped around the wings of the stage where we stood in single file obscured from view. We stood shivering in the space between the congregation and the huge tub of water on display — like a row of musical notes, our different heights climbing up and down the scale, until it dipped down to reach me, a single note at the bottom of the staff.

At eight years old, I was the youngest of those who had signed up for baptism.

Prior to that Sunday, my parents asked me repeatedly if I was sure about my decision. Between afternoon cartoons or while I munched my morning cereal, my mom would slide a question my way, making sure my decision was one of the heart and not simply a parroting of words I’d overheard in grown-up conversations.

I answered each question from a place of uncomplicated faith. I loved Jesus, and baptism was simply the next step in my friendship with Him. My parents were satisfied with my answers, and weeks later, I found myself waiting in the baptismal wings in that line of notes strung along like a love song to Jesus.

I took a deep breath when the pastors called me forward and another when they submerged my body under water. I rose up from the water appearing like the same eight-year-old I was minutes before, only imperceptibly different on the inside. After church, I ran around with a wet head looking for my church friends, while my parents wrangled my siblings.

Nothing had changed, and yet, so had everything.

I have three children of my own now, all much older than my wee self at eight. When I look back at photos of them in elementary school, I remember how young they seemed at the time. How innocent and untested. How silly and sweet. Life with eight-year-olds is a blur of color and noise and laughter. I don’t remember many deep conversations reviewing the tenets of our faith, sacramental language, or big words used to explain difficult concepts of spiritual transformation.

I remember wondering if they truly understood what baptism symbolizes when my two oldest decided to be baptized on a family trip to Israel.

Like my parents, I questioned my children for sure answers. How quickly we forget that the Holy Spirit woos the hearts of young and old alike. I’d forgotten the sincerity and simple faith of my youth, and how the Spirit is alive and at work in us at every age and stage of life. We baptized two of our children in the Jordan River, while fellow pilgrims sang hymns while waiting for their turn. I snapped photos of my kids with their wide smiles and hair dripping. I wondered what memories they would carry with them, and if this moment was one of faith defined or just another adventure on a family vacation.

When we piled back into the car after our visit, my husband called everyone’s name to be sure we were all present and accounted for. When he called my son’s name, my boy replied from the back seat, “He’s not here anymore, Dad.” To which my husband replied, “That’s right, buddy!”, as I blinked back tears.

A new child had risen out of the brackish water while I took photos and wrangled his little sister.

Nothing had changed, and yet, so had everything.

This post was originally written in March 2018 by Kimberly Coyle.

 

[bctt tweet=”The Spirit is alive and at work in us at every age and stage of life. -@KimberlyACoyle:” username=”incourage”]

19 Ways to #LoveOverAll in Light of COVID-19

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Our family cuddled on the couch watching a movie as late afternoon rain pelted down. It seemed fitting that there was a literal storm outside as the world stormed around us — the response to COVID-19 was just getting serious here in the U.S. I only half-heard my kids as they laughed at the screen and asked for a snack. I kept thinking about our neighbor.

We’ve waved hello back and forth while pulling in and out of driveways dozens of times, but all I really know is that this elderly wife and husband live alone and never had children. I’d guess they are in their eighties. They’ve lived on our street longer than I’ve been alive but their accent tells of rich German roots. I wish I could remember her name.

I got up off the couch. “Whatcha doing?” my husband asked. He was home too. His work trip had been canceled like most everything would be in the coming days.

“I keep thinking about those neighbors.” I pointed diagonally out our front window. “I feel like I should go see if they need anything.”

My husband agreed and offered his help too. I pulled on my red rain shoes right over my fluffy socks. I didn’t take off my sweatpants or brush my hair. I just went. I popped up my umbrella, ran across the street, and rang the doorbell. After some time, my neighbor opened the door. “Yes?” she said tentatively. She didn’t have on makeup either.

“Hi, I’m Becky. I live across the street. Over there with the three boys. And I was just wondering if you’re okay? Everything is pretty crazy right now with the coronavirus, and I wanted to see if you needed anything.”

“Oh, we’re fine, Becky. But thank you for coming over and asking,” she said, a shy smile spreading across her face.

I offered to run to the grocery or pharmacy anytime she needs. I told her my husband is really handy and is more than happy to fix anything around their house. I asked her name. “Crystal,” she said. “Like the glass.” I handed Crystal a handwritten card with our cell phone numbers and told her again to please call or text anytime. Then I popped up my umbrella and walked back home.

Later that night, I called my sister while I was making dinner. You should know I’m not a big fan of talking on the phone, and life is always busy for both of us so we rarely talk. But as a kidney transplant survivor she’s immunosuppressed. I just felt like I should call. Miraculously she picked up. “You were on my mind. How are you?” I asked while slicing croissants. My call was timely. It was good to talk.

The next morning, a friend was on my mind so I texted her. I’ve seen the memes flying around Facebook, heard about the racial slurs and suspicious looks darting toward anyone of Asian descent. I wanted to check in on one of my Asian-American friends – my gut said she could use the reminder that she is wanted, loved, seen. I was right.

Friends, there is nothing extraordinary in any of these things I did. But I’m sharing them as a reminder to myself and to you that there is power in walking across the street, making a phone call, and sending a text. There is power in reaching out and letting others know they are seen. This is true every day – and perhaps no more so than today.

Long before COVID-19 was ever a thing, (in)courage and DaySpring decided to make #LoveOverAll our 2020 theme. I wrote about it here, but the gist is this: Over everything else, we must put on the love of Christ which bonds us together; over everything else, we get to love one another because God first loved us (Colossians 3:12-14; 1 John 4:19).

In January, I challenged us to consider what #LoveOverAll really means. Now’s the time to live it. Here are some simple ideas for loving well.

19 Ways to #LoveOverAll in Light of COVID-19:

1. Share a square — or a whole roll — with someone who didn’t make it to Costco quick enough.
2. Check on an elderly neighbor and offer to pick up groceries or prescriptions.
3. Pray for those on the front lines of meeting medical needs: doctors, nurses, ambulance drivers, police officers, and firefighters.
4. Pray for leaders making crucial decisions: pastors, business owners, education professionals, and government officials.
5. Donate money or supplies to your local soup kitchen or food bank.
6. Write a card and mail it. (Snail mail always brightens a day.)
7. Drop off games or puzzles you’re not using to another family.
8. Play games and do puzzles with your family.
9. Make a batch of freezer meals and give them away.
10. Pick up the phone and call whoever is on your heart today.
11. Order take out from your local Chinese restaurant or other small business.
12. Smile when others are angry, rushed, or panicked.
13. Let someone cut in front of you in line.
14. Find out if friends or family with a suppressed immune system need anything.
15. Leave a thank you note on the porch for postal and delivery workers.
16. Ask how someone is doing and really listen.
17. Offer childcare for a single mom or working parents.
18. Say thank you to check-out clerks and drive-thru workers.
19. Listen to the Holy Spirit and love others however He leads you to.

I don’t know if Crystal will ever take me up on my offer to run errands or help with chores, but at least on a stormy day when uncertainty swarms around us, Crystal knows that she is not forgotten. She is loved. And so are you.

How can you embrace the opportunity to put on #LoveOverAll in light of COVID-19?
Share your ideas below. We are in this together.

 

[bctt tweet=”There is power in reaching out and letting others know they are seen. This is true every day – and perhaps no more so than today. #loveoverall -@beckykeife:” username=”incourage”]

Crisis, Comparison, and a
Checkpoint for My Heart

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It happened again just the other day, a trigger that startled me. I thought this weapon had been disarmed, that it no longer carried power to bully me.

Having TSA pre-check status was supposed to prevent this problem: a quick step through the metal detector and I’d be on my way. But as I hurried to catch a flight home recently, I had to go through regular security screening at the airport, and like several times before, the scanner flagged me as a potential threat because of my birth defect.

I was born with a rare disorder, a genetic abnormality that left me with a huge birthmark and one side of my body larger than the other. I try not to think about my birth defect too often these days, but then I’m rudely reminded of it by something like a TSA scanner. Apparently the size difference between my right side and my left side fools the machine into thinking I’m trying to smuggle something nefarious onto the plane.

Nope. Just me, wishing I could pass through the checkpoint without incident.

With flaming face, I step aside and wait for a female guard to pat me down. Soon she realizes that I’m no threat to the security of my fellow passengers, and she waves me through to collect my bags and get to my gate.

I find a seat and breathe deeply. I remind myself of the truth I’ve learned. My heartrate slows to its normal rhythm. I am fine.

Just a few years ago, I was not fine. Scenarios like the TSA incident haunted me, reinforcing what I believed to be true: that I was defined by my defects.

Aware from the time I was a tiny girl that I did not look like anyone around me, I developed a habit of constantly comparing myself to everyone around me, trying desperately to measure up. The older I got, the more I became aware of the strengths of those to whom I compared myself — and more aware of my faults and failures. I weighed myself in the balance and always found myself wanting.

I wanted to be loved and accepted, but I judged myself unacceptable.

I’d spent my whole life in the church, but I found that my faith in God didn’t help me with my thoughts about myself. To be honest, though I knew that God loved the world, I had difficulty believing that He loved me. And though I was married to a wonderful man and had lots of friends, I struggled to believe that they really loved me.

Because I found myself unacceptable, I doubted that anyone truly accepted me.

I knew that God was perfect, and I knew that I was terribly imperfect. I imagined that God was perpetually angry with me or at least disappointed in me. And even when people seemed to love me, I found myself unworthy, so I doubted their love. In other words, I had projected my insecurities about myself onto God and other people.

How grateful I am for the life crisis that ended with me in the office of a counselor, crying my eyes out.

Slowly, slowly I began to understand what I had done. Formed in the difficulties of my childhood, bolstered by incidents like the scene at the TSA checkpoint, my understanding of myself was distorted. I saw and appreciated others’ strengths, but all I could see was my weaknesses.

I had to learn a new way to move through the world, a new way to see God, to see other people, and to see myself. But first I had to realize that the old way was wrong.

Countless times I had read Proverbs 3:5 to trust in the Lord with all my heart, but when it came to my opinion of myself, I relied completely on my own understanding.

My own understanding was that I was defined by my defects, unlovable and unacceptable. God’s truth is that I am His beloved child, dearly loved and completely accepted.

My own understanding was that I was unloved and alone. God’s truth is that not only am I His child, I am part of a huge family! Sisters and brothers surround me, all of them beloved children of God as well. We are all made in God’s image, all designed for relationship, all dependent upon God and one another. Yes, I am imperfect, but so are all my brothers and sisters, and God loves us no less.

Turns out that my own understanding was hard to overcome, but life is so much better when I’m not relying on it.

So now I can sit at my gate at the airport and remind myself of the truth. I repeat the words of Henri Nouwen: “I am not what I do. I am not what I have. I am not what others think of me. I am the beloved child of a loving Creator.”

Then I board the plane and fly home.

 

[bctt tweet=”I am God’s child, made in His image. Nothing can change that truth! -@RichellaParham:” username=”incourage”]

Love Listens Well

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A year ago, my husband Shawn and I embarked on a new journey. We joined a marriage class at our church called Re-engage. Shawn and I married four years ago after the death of my first husband Ericlee. He joined our family of four girls (including me) when we were in the throes of grief and gently shepherded us through some tough transitions. Last January, I felt like it was time to focus my energy on investing in my marriage with Shawn.

In Re-engage, we learned some important Biblical principles about marriage, commitment, intimacy, and love. One of the most powerful lessons was on communication. The main thesis was “good communication is essential to achieving marital oneness.” Communication is defined not just as exchanging information but as mutual understanding.

As we worked through the homework and listened to the speakers that week in class, I was convicted that I needed to be a better listener in my marriage. Looking back on my life, I had prided myself on being a good listener. Through the years, many friends had confided in me. I had mentored several younger women, including my three daughters. This required good listening skills.

What I realized was that I was not always listening well to Shawn. Listening was hard partly because of our personality differences. Shawn is a thinker, an investigator, an introvert, an internal processor while I am an enthusiast, an extrovert, an external processor, and an activator. He’s not quick to speak or insert his opinions in conversation. He takes time to think things over and respond deliberately while I am off to the races, creating, strategically solving problems, and processing as I go. By nature, he’s a marathoner, and I’m a sprinter.

Part of Re-engage was practicing what we were learning. We asked each other questions and waited for our spouse’s honest responses. I realized that in order to show my love to Shawn I needed to be “quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry” (James 1:19, NIV).

One of the steps I’ve taken is to try to be a ready listener when my husband speaks. This is harder than I expected. This is challenging in a house where our three daughters, our phones, our work, and much more is competing for our attention. Perhaps the hardest thing for me is to listen and not respond until Shawn is finished talking.

Listening well is knowing there is “a time to be silent and a time to speak” (Ecclesiastes 3:7, NIV). Listening well is hearing not just with my ears but also with my eyes, heart, and body language.

Listening well has the potential to transform relationships. God modeled this throughout the Bible. I think of the Egyptian slave, Hagar, who escaped to the desert in Genesis 16. She was pregnant, abused, broken, and unwanted. I imagine she felt invisible and hungry for help. In the desert, an angel of the LORD, which scholars believe was God Himself, finds her.

The angel of the Lord found Hagar near a spring in the desert; it was the spring that is beside the road to Shur. And he said, “Hagar, slave of Sarai, where have you come from, and where are you going?”
Genesis 16:7-8 (NIV)

This is a pivotal moment for Hagar because God seeks her out and cares about her story. Love listens. Let’s keep in mind He is the all-knowing God of the universe. He hung the stars in the sky and carved the ocean waves with His index finger. He knew every hair on her head, every heartache she had endured. He knew exactly where she came from and where she was headed, yet He took time to ask her about her story. He saw her in her desert place and listened well.

This encounter makes all the difference in Hagar’s life. God offers Hagar His Presence and a promise to greatly multiply her offspring until they will be too many to count. Hagar and her son, Ishmael, are written into God’s glory story.

More than two thousand years later, we see Jesus Christ listen well to another woman in a desert place. In Mark 5, Jesus is on His way to heal the daughter of a synagogue leader named Jarius. On His way, a large crowd pressed in around Him, including a woman who suffered from bleeding for twelve years. The woman believed Jesus could heal her so she came behind Him in the crowd and touched His robe. Instantly, the flow of blood stopped in her body. She knew she was healed.

Jesus realized that power had gone out from Him. He turned and asked, “Who touched my robes?” Jesus knew all things. He knew who touched His robes, yet He gives her an opportunity to present herself and her story. She steps forward, falls down before Him, and tells Him the whole truth (Mark 5:33 CSB).

Again, this is a mark of a love that listens. Jesus allows her to interrupt Him on His journey and takes time to listen to her whole truth. Jesus not only physically heals her but also meets her spiritual needs by calling her “daughter” and assuring her that her faith has made her well. We are each called to listen well to our spouses, our children, our friends – our people. Especially in this uncertain time with the coronavirus spreading and so many quarantined, it’s important that we listen well. Even if we have to distance ourselves socially, let’s not let the Enemy have the upper hand in isolating our hearts.

I recently spoke at a conference for Asian American women called “Someday is Here.” Throughout the day, various women from diverse backgrounds were invited to share their stories of grief, hope, and God’s glory. There was an exhale that happened deep inside me, hearing the stories these mothers, mentors, and leaders have lived and overcome. In listening to them, I felt empowered to go out and continue living my story for His glory.

**Dorina loves staying personally connected with readers. Subscribe to her Glorygram newsletter for weekly encouragement and all the behind-the-scenes details about her coming book, Walk, Run, Soar.

 

[bctt tweet=”Listening well has the potential to transform relationships. #loveoverall #lovelistens -@DorinaGilmore:” username=”incourage”]

The Ordinary Nature of Moving Forward

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We are in the middle of simplifying and downsizing when I come across a sweatshirt circa 1991.

“Lane, this was my favorite sweatshirt when I was eight. Honest to goodness, I wore it every single day of third grade.” It occurs to me how many years it’s been since I was that age, and I sink to the floor as the shocking realization hits:

“Um, Babe. Do you realize we’re coming up on almost thirty years since we were in the third grade? Thirty.”

“Yep.”

“Is this actually happening to us? Are we actually getting older together?”

Typical to us — me the emoter, he the stoic — his response is matter-of-fact: “Yep.”

And it’s true.

Our life has taken a number of twists and turns, but we’ve done it together and that’s what counts most right now. Somehow, both suddenly and slowly, we find ourselves in our mid-thirties, in the middle of raising our family, in the middle of our life, really.

Some might call our life an adventure, but from where I sit, we’re just doing what we’re supposed to be doing. We do what we can to bring a little more light than there was before we came along, and we do it by putting one foot in front of the other, one day at a time.

It’s this “one foot in front of the other” part I think about a lot lately — this very ordinary nature of moving forward. As it turns out, it’s quite a bit harder than it appears, and I don’t think I’m alone in this.

Beginnings tend to have a surge of adrenaline, an the excitement of newness, while endings have the resolution and redemption of a finish line. The ordinary middle tends to be unglamorous, a lamented exercise in fidelity where there’s no other way to go but through it. The middle is when discipline tends to wane, when other options seem a little more tempting, when we begin to look to the right or to the left.

The Israelites knew this dance well.

Throughout the Old Testament, God continually and kindly instructs them on how to live life well, knowing their human tendency to long for another path. He reminds them to stay the course, to continue on. He knew they might start to wander if they saw a path that looked easier or someone else who didn’t have it as hard. He knew they might turn clear around and go right back to Egypt if they wandered too far from His path.

I’m like the Israelites. I look to the right and to the left all the time. My wandering heart could use a little binding, truth be told. I look at kids with different temperaments, couples that get out on more dates, careers that don’t require such transience, and I long for them. Jesus, not surprisingly, offers a solution:

Look at Me instead. Run the race I marked out for you, and keep your eyes on Me. 

Such is the nature of moving forward, of putting one foot in front of the other: the ordinary becomes sacred. As we walk the path laid before us, we become more attuned to the voice of our Guide telling us, “This is the way, walk in it.” The middle becomes less mundane and more purposeful. It becomes the place where we cultivate deep resilience and align our hearts to the presence of God. It’s where we’re always be guided by Love itself, and I’m finding that as long as I’m being led by Love, He’s taking me exactly where I need to go.

This post was originally written in June 2018 by Sarah Sandifer. 

 

[bctt tweet=”The middle becomes the place where we cultivate deep resilience and align our hearts to the presence of God. -Sarah Sandifer:” username=”incourage”]

The Testimony of a Changed Woman

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Just then his disciples returned and were surprised to find him talking with a woman. But no one asked, “What do you want?” or “Why are you talking with her?”

Then, leaving her water jar, the woman went back to the town and said to the people, “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?” They came out of the town and made their way toward him.

Meanwhile his disciples urged him, “Rabbi, eat something.”

But he said to them, “I have food to eat that you know nothing about.”

Then his disciples said to each other, “Could someone have brought him food?”

“My food,” said Jesus, “is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish his work. Don’t you have a saying, ‘It’s still four months until harvest’? I tell you, open your eyes and look at the fields! They are ripe for harvest. Even now the one who reaps draws a wage and harvests a crop for eternal life, so that the sower and the reaper may be glad together. Thus the saying ‘One sows and another reaps’ is true. I sent you to reap what you have not worked for. Others have done the hard work, and you have reaped the benefits of their labor.”
John 4:27-38 (CSB)

The woman at the well was someone who wanted to hide, to avoid others. She was living a story of shame, but Jesus came and sat with her, talked with her, and brought her life into the light. He didn’t do this to expose her but to free her from the shame and release her into new life. For a woman who didn’t want to be seen, she was seen by Jesus. For a woman who wasn’t known for who she was, she was known by Jesus. Her story was forever changed, and she was bursting at the seams to tell everyone about it.

When our lives are changed, when God’s kingdom breaks through in our lives, in big and small ways, we say to others, “Come and see!” Our testimony awakens others to seek and find, and when one seed bears fruit, it leads to a harvest.

Tell your story and invite others to come and see what God has done.

[bctt tweet=”Tell your story and invite others to come and see what God has done. ” username=”incourage”]

Five Thoughts for Mothers of Teens

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When a topic pops up continually in conversation or often catches my attention online, I wonder if it’s the Holy Spirit nudging me to write about it for others who are in the same place. Many of my friends and I are parenting teens, with fewer years of children living in our homes ahead of us than behind. We’re looking closely at how we parented our older children, what did and didn’t work, and what we’ve learned along the way. I hope the ideas my friends and I chew over and insight from thirty-three years of motherhood helps you too.

For some mothers of teens, the parent-child relationship doesn’t look like they thought it would. Some children push back against the values their parents have worked hard to instill. Some children push people’s buttons in general, especially their parents. Most days you’d give anything for your teen to put their trust in you again more than their friends and the world. 

With five of our eight children grown and living on their own, three of those married with children and three teens still at home, I’ve parented eight very different teens. I’m far from a perfect mom, but I trust that God specifically put my husband, children, and me together as a family. 

Today I’d like to share five things I’ve learned from our years of parenting teens:

1. They need you. 

No two teens are the same and some are easier to parent than others, but they all need you equally. My mother used to tell me I couldn’t devote all my time to one child, although it’s easy to pay more attention to the ones that demand it. The squeaky wheel usually does get the grease. The quieter, easier ones may think more than they react. They need your help to tackle the more serious decisions and circumstances they face with age and to bounce ideas off of you.

Set your foundation firmly in God’s truth and uphold those principles. They need to see your beliefs and your consistency and know that they can bank on them. 

2. Independence prepares them for adulthood.

If you never require (or teach) your children to do their own laundry, help cook and clean, or share household chores, they will continue to expect you to do those things for them and won’t gain the satisfaction and skills that prepare them to live independently. Set reasonable boundaries and expectations. 

Our teens with jobs learn responsibility, accountability, and that it takes planning to stretch your dollars between paychecks. They put gas in their cars, go out to eat and watch movies with friends, and save for bigger purchases. It’s a taste of adulthood within the safety net of home. 

Give your child the trust they’ve earned and an appropriate level of independence, and they’ll launch more successfully into adulthood.

3. Don’t be easily provoked.

A popular piece of parenting advice is to pick your battles. When you and your teen can’t seem agree on anything, every topic of discussion is filled with hidden landmines. Keep a grip on your temper and don’t be easily provoked. 

Are you discussing an immediate eventuality or one years down the road? Why get into an argument about the future? If your child declares they will school their children differently than what you chose for them and never force their kids to clean their bathroom or fold their laundry, why argue about it? 

You probably know someone who likes to play devil’s advocate and delivers contentious opinions to provoke debate. Teens are maturing and learning to think more logically, and many are masters of this tactic. While some enjoy quarreling, others may just want to get a response from you, positive or negative. At times I have allowed an aversion to conflict to hinder communication between me and one of my children.

Ask questions that help you understand each other and learn to keep your cool.

4. Time brings renewed relationships. 

Be a steady presence and a source of unconditional love for your teen, and when they are older, your relationship may transform in new ways. One who rebelled against your authority at home may value your company and advice when they are on their own, making adult decisions. 

One of my adult daughters tagged me in a Facebook post recently with a graphic that said, “That feeling of ‘I want my mom’ has no age limit, no time limit, and no distance limit.” We butted heads when she was a teen, but now I dote on her babies and we have a fresh relationship. Yes, your teens will be adults someday!

5. Enjoy them.

One of the most fascinating things about the teen years is watching your children mature into young adults. You can have deeper conversations, cheer them as they perform or compete at more advanced levels, and glimpse their true character in how they interact with the world around them. 

I like these precious people we’ve home grown. I treasure the time we have left at home, but I look forward to seeing the adults they’ll become and how our relationships will grow.

Where are you in your motherhood journey?
Which of these thoughts most resonated with you?

 

[bctt tweet=”On parenting teens: Be a steady presence and a source of unconditional love for your teen. -@DawnMHSH:” username=”incourage”]