Becoming What We Behold

Becoming What We Behold

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Just in time for Mother’s Day, meet the newest (in)courage book — A Mother’s Love: Celebrating Every Kind of Mom — which is available TODAY! (in)courage writer and team member Anna Rendell compiled this book with all women in mind so that we can celebrate those who made us, shaped us, helped us grow, and loved us well — whether they’re our (or anyone’s) mothers or not. Take a peek into our newest book with this excerpt and a few pages from the book. We hope you love this special collection of stories, Scripture, and art!

I go through dozens of Grandma’s collected pieces of china, each one delicate and fine. And my mom has a story for each one:

“Oh, that was the candy dish! If I snuck a piece, I had to lift the silver lid just right, so it wouldn’t make any noise.”

“She set out that dish and filled it with nuts, served with this silver spoon at every church ladies’ circle meeting.”

“She put mashed potatoes in that bowl!”

I scour the Internet for details on the precious china and glassware, and what I find makes me gasp. Each piece is worth actual dollars! Some pieces are worth several actual dollars! The day I loaded her white Havilland china into the back of the minivan, I drove almost as carefully as the day we brought our firstborn from the hospital.

As I set each dish, plate, and cup in its new home in my china hutch, I pause to really look at them — and marvel at what I see. Light and tiny but very much present atop of plates are lines where knives scraped across them decades ago. She actually used these!, I think.

And that thought strikes me hard because I am a saver. Gardenia perfume I wore on my wedding day? I spritz it on my wrists only on our anniversary. Beautiful teacup from my wedding shower? I haven’t used it since. Crisp white linen napkins, received for our engagement? I only bring them out for Christmas dinner. All these gifts, literally collecting dust.

Most likely, their giver wouldn’t be too happy if they knew their gifts were just taking up space instead of bringing joy on a regular basis. While some things are more meaningful when held onto, the idea of leaving my best things unused doesn’t sit well in my heart.

Because if I can’t bring myself to use the good dishes on a Tuesday night, what else do I hoard and squirrel away? My best listening ear, reserved for only dear friends in crisis. The best of my servant’s heart, reserved for those who can somehow serve me back. The best of my God-given gifts, reserved to the point where they become buried, and I argue when He asks me to use them.

It’s as though we believe the things we save could save us.

“Don’t hoard treasure down here where it gets eaten by moths and corroded by rust or — worse! — stolen by burglars. Stockpile treasure in heaven, where it’s safe from moth and rust and burglars. It’s obvious, isn’t it? The place where your treasure is, is the place you will most want to be, and end up being.”
Matthew 6:19-21 (MSG)

I’ve heard it said that “you become what you behold” — wisdom from 2 Corinthians 3:18. What am I becoming if I am holding back the best of my things, and the best of myself — both out of fear?

My grandma never held back. She brought out the good plates and lit the candles on the dining room table for lasagna dinner on Wednesday nights. She always had a full candy dish waiting for us. She never withheld her listening ear or her love. Her warm and wrinkled hands were ready for holding, and her arms open wide for hugs. She was generous with her love, her time, and her costume jewelry collection.

There is deep power in the loving of others, and we are able to both give and receive that when we gather around the table and give our best.

Grandma’s dishes now live in my china hutch and kitchen cupboards. Over time, I will add to the faint knife scrapes on the plates, so that when my kids go through them in sixty years, they too will have stories to tell.

An excerpt from A Mother’s Love, from the (in)courage community. Story written by Anna Rendell. 

A Mother’s Love: Celebrating Every Kind of Mom is full of reflections of God’s heart and unique and diverse stories from the (in)courage community that offer heartfelt encouragement to all sorts of mothers, whether they be mothers in the traditional sense, mothers in the spiritual sense, or mother-figures who break the mold. It is sure to help any woman share a meaningful gift with a mother-figure who has been impactful in her life.

And since it releases TODAY, we want to celebrate by giving away FIVE book sets! Just leave a comment on this post, and you’ll be entered to win a copy of A Mother’s Love — one copy for you, and another to gift to a mother-figure or friend. It’s a beautiful gift for all the special women in your life!

Order your copies of A Mother’s Love today!

**Giveaway closes on 4/10/2020. Winners will be notified via email.

 

[bctt tweet=”Celebrate the mother-figures in your life with @incourage’s new book, A Mother’s Love: Celebrating Every Kind of Mom — available today! #amotherslovebook” via=”no”]

Laying a Solid Foundation for These Days

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I’ve been staring at a blank screen for hours. With tensions soaring and our immediate future unknown, there’s so much noise. With the push and pull of voices, statistics and graphs, declarations and dissension, I’m hesitant to be one more voice throwing words to the wind, yet our quarantine has evolved quite differently than most.

When our adult children sensed an upcoming lock down in their large cities, our “Just Open the Door” lifestyle took new meaning. They traveled home bringing friends who’d also been displaced. Between twelve of us, we come to our table with a variety of backgrounds, personalities, fears, job uncertainties, cancellations, and dashed dreams. Mix in the tightly wound togetherness of sharing four bedrooms and we’re a petri dish of gospel-life learning.

Laying a foundation of core biblical truths has been a critical narrative threading through our time together, and here’s what I’ve clung to:

1. Rest and Refresh

There are no guides entitled “Seven Suggestions for Surviving and Thriving in a Worldwide Pandemic.” We’re navigating new levels of mental, physical and spiritual fatigue. Everyone’s stressors and situations are different, yet He promises, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take up my yoke and learn from me, because I am lowly and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” Matthew 11:28-29 (ESV).

Run your burdens to Him. He is the only true source of rest and refreshment, and I desire our home to symbolize Isaiah 28:12 — for it to be a place of rest where the weary can rest and be refreshed.

2. Realign

Our hearts, souls, and thought lives weren’t created to handle the myriad of information being thrown at us. I’ve found it critical to pare down opinions and input.

Our feelings, though valuable gifts that help us experience life, are notoriously horrible captains. Our feeling are valid, yet overwhelming. If we allow altered emotions to steer us through our quarantine, focusing solely on our personal suffering, it’s a crash waiting to happen. I choose to believe that even amidst suffering, nothing happens to us that hasn’t passed through the hand of God first. He is full of grace, mercy, and love and will ultimately use the purpose in our pain for His glory.

Wholeheartedly loving God and believing in the truth that He loves us infinitely more than we can ever imagine requires that we anchor our feelings in His Word and keep careful watch over what fills our hearts and minds. Turn off the news. Mute Facebook. Stop scrolling. Allow your soul to breathe, so you can focus on the only sure foundation – His living Word.

3. Retreat

Part of our family’s manifesto is, “May our home be a safe, refreshing haven where everyone is loved, valued, and welcome; a soft place to land where real life happens.”

With twelve people quarantined under our roof, there’s a lot of real life happening. In order to elevate from survival mode to a place of refreshment, let grace abound. Generously give people the benefit of the doubt (especially online) and grant permission to literally retreat before you say things you’ll regret.

No foul (unwholesome) language should come from your mouth, but only what is good for building up someone in need,
so that it gives grace to those who hear.
Ephesians 4:29 (CSB)

Yesterday tensions were high. I disagreed with others’ assessments so in order for me to live out that verse, I physically retreated and high tailed it outside. That was the most biblical thing I could do in the moment.

4. Reach Out

One of Satan’s successful strategies is to create isolation and loneliness in the hearts of women. I’ve spent  years combatting this tactic by encouraging women with the gospel message of Just Open the Door. So with this quarantine, my heart has been in shambles since I know how serious the consequences can be. What a gift to see how women are still reaching out, practicing traveling hospitality, and continuing to love their neighbors in generous and creative ways during this age of social distancing.

A sure fire antidote to help our hearts shift from a sense of panic to peace is to focus on others. “How can I make Jesus known to someone else today?” Reaching out will look different for everyone in the age of “just shut the door,” but we can show up and make a meaningful difference in the lives of other people. Show up. Check in. Send a text. Give some cookies. Reach out and share your life.

5. Rejoice

Amidst fighting fear and financial disruption, amidst cancelled weddings and scary medical diagnoses, amidst crying kids and temperamental teenagers, He is still on the throne. He makes no mistakes and is working all things together for His glory and goodness. In Christ alone, He is enough for our darkest hour.

In the middle of the mess, actively pursue gratitude and rejoice. As we fight to seek beauty in our new normal, we won’t waste this unique moment in history.

Today I’m rejoicing in the easy recipe success, pizza by candle light, a Zoom call with grandparents, dancing in our kitchen, my yard sale vase donning flowering weeds, and one clean junk drawer. For those who name Jesus as Lord, we have a promise of His eternal glory. What a day of rejoicing that will be.

Over on my instagram stories, I’m documenting both the beauty and the bedlam of everyday life. Please join me as we fight to find the beauty and offer the gift of gratitude.

How are you choosing joy today?

 

[bctt tweet=”In Christ alone, He is enough for our darkest hour. -Jen Schmidt (@beautyandbedlam):” username=”incourage”]

Love Over All: Love Sacrifices

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But God proves His own love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
Romans 5:8 (CSB)

Every month of 2020, we will feature the Love Over All theme verse on the first Sunday of the month. We love everything about Love Over All (read more about it here) and can’t wait to share these amazing verses and ways to live them out with you!

April’s theme is Love Sacrifices.

It is hard to imagine and fully understand the grace-filled work of the cross. The sacrifice is staggering. And while we will probably never be asked to sacrifice at that level, we are still instructed to live in a way that is sacrificial. A life that puts others first. A life that cheerfully gives. A life that is lived hands open, palms up, ready to receive the assignments God has for us. Quite possibly an assignment that will bring a sacrifice of time, talent, or treasure. Maybe all of the above.

And the small sacrifices count too — especially in this particularly vulnerable, worrying, and unusual time of a pandemic. Fear is around every corner, and many people have sacrificed their usual routine and sense of normalcy. We can’t simply run to the grocery store or the coffee drive-thru. Some of us are sacrificing work time to teach our children at home. Others have sacrificed their jobs. Many have sacrificed visits with family members and friends to keep them safe and healthy. Others have even sacrificed their health as they serve on the front lines of healthcare and other essential industries.

These sacrifices are not overlooked — not by us, and not by Him.

This month, as we continue to prepare our hearts for Easter Sunday, let’s challenge ourselves to recognize the sacrifices we are making, with a heart grateful for what we do have. May we give thanks for the ultimate sacrifice Jesus made, as He gave His life on the cross, even as we were still sinners. And may we remember that our sacrifices can draw us closer to the heart of God.

Love sacrifices.

 

[bctt tweet=”May we remember that our sacrifices can draw us closer to the heart of God. #lovesacrifices #loveoverall” username=”incourage”]

A Letter to Our Future Selves
in the Age of Coronavirus

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I wrote this post a while ago, in what I’ll call “the beginning.” The post was written back then for good reason: We have deadlines here at (in)courage. Our stories are carefully reviewed and edited, talented designers create those pretty graphics you see here every day, and someone has to handle all the technical things that make this website possible.

So, I am writing this post after only a short time in self-quarantine.

By the time you read this, that will seem like ages ago.

So, let’s title this one: “A Letter to Our Future Selves in the Age of Coronavirus.”

Think for a moment where you were a couple of weeks ago. Can you see through the fog to remember? Can you recall your fears and anxieties? Do you remember the early decluttering projects, and the weird luxury of time on your hands? Did you paint the bathroom and finally put photos into albums? How many puzzles did you finish? Remember those funny first memes on social media, a silly but needed respite from all the heaviness of the press conferences? On the one hand, the days presented new challenges for all of us, but for so many of you who have been running and hustling, perhaps this new time in our history gave you the unexpected opportunity to simply be still.

Doesn’t that seem like forever ago?

That “forever ago” is the one from which I’m writing these words. And they are echoing forward to find you today.

As I wrote this post, you and I had only begun the uncomfortable existence of being closed in. Our movements were just beginning to be restricted by new rules. We had started using phrases we had never used before – phrases like “social distancing” and “self-quarantine.”

When I wrote this, I had hoped that by the time you’d be reading this on a Saturday morning in April, the virus would have vanished into thin air. My hope was that we’d all have gone back to our regular patterns of bumping into one another at our favorite restaurants, sitting next to each other on the bleachers, shaking hands, not worrying about germs on the door handle, and hugging at the back of the church – the physical one, not the one we do on Facebook Live.

Maybe by the time you read this, someone I love will have gotten sick. It scares me to write it out like that, but it’s possible. Maybe the rules restricting my movement will have been tightened. Maybe I really will have run out of toilet paper. Maybe I still won’t be able see the light at the end of the tunnel. I fear that friends will lose their jobs or struggle to pay the bills because the boss had to close up shop.

I don’t know. I just don’t know.

I remember, once upon a time, when I would plan out my life weeks, or even months, ahead.

“Next week, I’ll get a haircut.”

“By May, I’ll have the landscaping beds planted.”

“By summer, I’ll have my next book written.”

“By fall, she’ll be in college.”

I don’t do that so much anymore.

In a strange way, I think that’s the gift we’ve been given. The inability to plan far ahead into the future is the strange gift of this awful time — to live in the moments and minutes and hours, instead of the days and weeks and months.

More than any time in recent history, we are learning what it means to live in the “right now.” And the right now holds so much loveliness, not the least of which is a deeper understanding that God actually is running the show down here on Planet Earth.

We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps.
Proverbs 16:9 (NLT)

Go ahead and make your plans. That’s what I will say to my future self. But I’ll add this: Hold your plans loosely because you never know what tomorrow or even the next hour may bring. You don’t get to know what’s up ahead. God alone sees what’s coming.

So let’s do this instead: Let’s treasure every single moment. It’s all a gift. It really is.

What is an unexpected gift for you that has come out of
this unusual season we’ve been in?

 

[bctt tweet=”The inability to plan far ahead into the future is the strange gift of this awful time — to live in the moments and minutes and hours, instead of the days and weeks and months. -@dukeslee:” username=”incourage”]

Layer by Layer, God Heals

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My dear mom fell down the stairs recently and landed on a hard basement floor. She was in pain, but who wouldn’t be after falling down the stairs? Nothing was bleeding and she could move everything, so she thought she was okay. But when she went to use the door handle, she knew something was wrong. A trip to the urgent care showed that she had broken her arm.

My siblings and I grew up on a farm, back before electronics would have fought for our attention, so we spent a lot of time outside. Even though broken bones might be somewhat common in childhood, there was not one broken bone among us ever. So having our mom have the first broken bone in our family was shocking.

Since I knew nothing about broken bones, I did a little research, and I have to say, “Wow!” I came away amazed. God made us in such an awesome, intricate way. There was a lot of terms and explanations that went well over my head, but my takeaway was that our bodies have been made extraordinarily.

When we break a bone, our body has an immediate reaction and goes right into working to heal the fracture. Our body goes through a series of steps as the bones work to renew themselves. It is a finely tuned sequence of events, but it takes time.

Mind, body, or soul, we all are a little broken. We have pain and disappointment. We have rejection, anger, and hurt in our lives. Some more than others, some more often than others. Just like bones need to heal through a process, so do we. No matter how nice it would be, it is not going to happen overnight. God works on us and heals us layer by layer. In that hard and slow place, turn to Him, invite Him in, and pray.

Lord, be gracious to us; we long for you. Be our strength every morning, our salvation in time of distress.
Isaiah 33:2 (NIV)

Healing is a process we don’t have to go through alone. We sometimes think God isn’t working in our lives, but He is, right where we are. God has a process, and though progress might seem slow, that doesn’t mean it isn’t happening. Healing takes time, and it isn’t easy.

There are steps we can’t skip just so we can get to the end. Each step has a purpose. Believe me, I know it can be frustrating when we are broken and aren’t seeing results or healing fast enough. We try to deal with it by ourselves because we don’t want to wait. We may even want to turn to things for quick relief or distraction from our brokenness, but those things will always be temporary. Only God’s healing is not temporary.

We have the promise that God makes all things new. All things means each of us and all our brokenness — one layer at a time, one tedious step at a time. And when the time comes and healing happens, we will be able to share our story of how God saw us through. One way or another, He will. He always does.

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.
Psalm 147:3 (NIV)

Trust the One who created you. Just like a broken bone, bit by bit, layer by layer, God heals.

 

[bctt tweet=”Trust the One who created you. Just like a broken bone, bit by bit, layer by layer, God heals. -Jennifer Ueckert:” username=”incourage”]

What Works Better Than Worry

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The phone call comes. Hard news on the other end of the line. I listen and nod. By the time I hang up I feel a weight on my shoulders, like it all depends on me. I begin to worry. This is what I can do, isn’t it? I can carry this around like a dog with an old bone. I can gnaw and twist, bury it and dig it up again. Surely this will be helpful; certainly this will save the day.

But into that place of fear there comes a God-whisper in my heart: Your worry cannot change the world, only I can.

Luke 12:25 says, “Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life?”

Who of us by worrying can make the prodigal come home, the marriage be restored, the meeting go well, the weight come off, the lights come on, the kids stay safe, the wrong be undone, the project turn out right?

Worry is seductive because it feels like control. If we are worrying, then we must be taking action. We must be turning the tide. But this is only a distraction and deception. It’s a shiny object for us to chase to keep us from going to the One who can actually get it done.

When I realize this, it doesn’t feel like a rebuke; it feels like a relief. Jesus, in all His gentleness and kindness, His extravagant mercy and care, has taken the boulder from my hands and said, “It doesn’t depend on you.” As I picture this, I see the scars on His own palms, hear His voice on the cross saying, “It is finished.”

Isn’t that what we really want to know? That someone is taking care of it, of them, of the situation, the circumstance, the thing that makes us make our pillow soggy with salty tears. This is what God says He will do. He will look out for the sparrows with their wispy feathers and fragile bones. And for us too, with our tender hearts and glass lives.

And even when the worst comes, when everything shatters, He can make it (and us) whole again.

After the call, I sit on the edge of my bed and listen to a song, headphones in my ears, hands folded on my lap. I whisper, “God, I release this person I love to You.” I add more words, requests, and hopes. I will say this again in the kitchen, in the car, as I sit in a coffee shop. Because it takes more than one time to win the battle against worry. It’s an ongoing choice, one we falter with often. This is all right because Jesus understands what it is to be human.

What frees our hearts isn’t worry; it’s worship. In other words, taking all the hard things to Someone who cares for us. Choosing to trust and let go. Believing through the blood, sweat, and tears, He will mysteriously work it all together for good.

Here’s what we can rest in today: The only One who has ever been able to bear the weight of the world on His shoulders is still strong and loving enough to carry all that concerns us too.

If you need a little extra encouragement right now, Holley has a wonderful resource: What Your Heart Needs for the Hard Days: 52 Encouraging Truths to Hold On To

 

[bctt tweet=”Even when the worst comes, when everything shatters, He can make it (and us) whole again. -@HolleyGerth:” username=”incourage”]

Let’s Hold onto Promise Over Panic

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Several weeks ago, Bonnie Gray wrote a post about being a woman of promise, not panic. She wrote, “You are a woman of promise and purpose: God’s promise is to love and care for you. When others panic, you have the power to bless them at a time when we all need connection most.”

We want to encourage you to be women who hold onto the promises God has given us over the panic we often feel as we worry about our loved ones, our neighbors, and the uncertainty of what’s to come. Over the next few months, we will be sharing verses along with a promise to go with it, and we hope these posts will help ground you in truth and peace in the midst of anxiety and stress.

We are in this together, friends.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart,
and do not rely on your own understanding;
in all your ways know him,
and he will make your paths straight.
Proverbs 3:5-6 (CSB)

Here’s the promise for today: God will show us where to go when we trust in Him.

Even though we don’t know how things will be tomorrow, next week, or even in three months, we can trust that God knows what is ahead for us. He leads the way on the path He has us on. Hold onto His hand, and trust Him with every next step.

 

[bctt tweet=”Here’s the promise for today: God will show us where to go when we trust in Him. #promiseoverpanic” username=”incourage”]

A Mother’s Love: Celebrating Every Kind of Mom

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Over the past week, I have planned and cooked meals, scrubbed toilets, purchased white string cheese for one child and orange string cheese for another, ordered more tissues and dish soap to arrive on my doorstep, and vacuumed up dog hair under the table.

I’ve changed my kids closets over for both size and seasons; today I’m diving into the shoes to do the same. I’ve restocked the shower with body wash and distributed toilet paper to all the various empty rolls. I’ve wiped counters and cleared the table in one fell swoop. I’ve prayed with and for my kids and tucked little curls behind little ears at night — both ears, not just one, because I know she likes it tucked behind both.

I’ve brushed and wiggled teeth and hollered for hands to be washed (I don’t need to see them to know they’re dirty). I’ve helped with math and texted pictures to Grandma. I’ve tossed favorite T-shirts into the washing machine and poured water in the dog’s bowl. I’ve watered the preschool plant project and moved it into the sunshine to try and keep it alive another day.

All in a week. A typical, run-of-the-mill week. Extraordinary all mixed up with the mundane.

As a mother and woman, I constantly perform acts of tiny service that go unseen. All day, every day. The bittiest of details, done with barely a thought. Just thirty-seven years into being a woman and eight years into mothering, I’m still learning these are finely tuned, carefully honed skills and marks of the craft.

And because you are a woman and a mother in your own unique way, I know you likely do the same.

We are the managers of the minutiae, keepers of the details that make a home run and hearts sing, whether that home is a small apartment with roommates or farm house with kids and chickens running wild. We are the knowers of small things, of favorites and things not-so-loved. We can read a heart in one glance. We can heal with a hug. We can calm with a word. We are the hosts of each other, the middle-of-the-night texters, the hearts that reach out when we feel a friend needs us.

Moms, caretakers, grandmas, babysitters, teachers . . . we are all a mother of sorts, and as such, we are the unseen do-ers. We are the people of hidden service, who have learned to do things swiftly and silently in a second-nature sort of way. At times, that has rendered me feeling powerless and small. Unimportant and unimpressive. Even though I know that if I disappeared, tasks would be left undone (Hello, favorite T-shirt going unwashed. Hi, dog hair un-vacuumed for a week.) and all the things I set in place could fall apart, it’s easy to throw an “I don’t matter” pity party for myself. It’s easy for me to look to my husband, kids, co-workers, roommates, or friends for affirmation that may never come.

It’s a good thing we have a God who adores and affirms women.

We have a God who appeared first to women after rising, who believes in women and has used their hands throughout history to do His good work, who sees us — both as we are and as we will be.

We have a God who sees motherhood as a valuable calling and in His wisdom gifts us individually to mother others in the place we are. Each and every one of those invisible tasks is seen, etched in His mind as He delights in you.

For the Lord your God is living among you.
    He is a mighty savior.
He will take delight in you with gladness.
    With his love, he will calm all your fears.
    He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.
Zephaniah 3:17 (NLT)

He. Delights. In. You.

Yep, you. You, who are a weary mother. You, who are not a mom to children of your blood. You, in the office cubicle. You, who diligently serves on the behind-the-scenes committees at church. You, who texts your friends to check in. You, who hasn’t had an evening to herself in way, way too long. You, who loves being a mom. You, the woman who maintains countless unseen tasks, holds things together (sometimes by a thread) and balances plates like a boss.

You are beloved to Him. God delights in His daughters. The end.

As kids, my own mom used to tell us, “I am woman. Hear me roar!” as she tarred the driveway, hung sheetrock in the basement, juggled our schedules and her jobs, and tenderly cared for her parents, her family, and her friends.

May we roar. May we celebrate our sisters and friends as they find their own roars. And may we feel the glow of love from our God who adores us and who sees every tiny act of service.

Let’s remember this truth in the days ahead. Just in time for Mother’s Day, I’d love to introduce the newest (in)courage book — A Mother’s Love: Celebrating Every Kind of Mom. I compiled this book with all women in mind so that we can celebrate those who made us, shaped us, helped us grow, and loved us well — whether they’re our (or anyone’s) mothers or not.

In this beautiful book, I’ve gathered unique and diverse stories from the (in)courage community that offer heartfelt encouragement to all sorts of mothers, whether they be mothers in the traditional sense, mothers in the spiritual sense, or mother-figures who break the mold. A Mother’s Love: Celebrating Every Kind of Mom is full of reflections of God’s heart, sure to help any woman to share a meaningful gift with a mother-figure who has been impactful in her life, a new mom in her circle of friends, or a close loved one facing the joys and challenges of motherhood. A Mother’s Love releases on April 7th. . .

. . . and to help you celebrate the women in your life, we’re giving away FIVE books BEFORE you can buy them! Just leave a comment on this post, and you’ll be entered to win a copy of A Mother’s Love before it releases on April 7th.

Pre-order your copies of A Mother’s Love today!

**Giveaway closes on 4/3/2020. Winners will be notified via email.

 

[bctt tweet=”You are beloved to Him. God delights in His daughters. The end. – @annaerendell in A Mother’s Love, the new book from @incourage:” via=”no”]

Being Asian American in the Midst of COVID-19

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I can feel my voice getting louder as the white family passes us by, my words coming out more crisply and clearly than I normally would talk. I can’t control the instinctual reaction of my body when there’s even the slightest chance I might be perceived as “one of them.” I’m not other or foreign (I was born here in California), but with the way Asian Americans are being treated in light of COVID-19, I can’t help but feel labeled as dirty, sick, a virus — the virus.

I enunciate my words and speak just loudly enough to be heard because I want everyone who walks by and gives us even the slightest of second glances to know that I’m American, just like them. I want them to know that being Asian American doesn’t make me more susceptible to getting sick. It’s knowing this disease is being used against people who look like me that gets me sick.

Asian Americans are being spat on, beaten down, bullied. Asian restaurants were being avoided long before all non-essential businesses were getting shut down. On top of the fear and stress we all carry concerning the health and safety of our loved ones, racism against Asian Americans adds another layer to the anxiety, and we are weary.

I’m almost glad we’re being told to stay at home so as to avoid the chance I’ll be the next recipient of prejudice and xenophobia, but then I watch the news and keep hearing coronavirus referred to as “the Chinese virus” by our president, and I know it’s not over yet. Words can be wielded for good or for harm, and those are not neutral words.

I find relief and solidarity as I hear more Asian Americans speaking up about the impact this term is having. We share the collective toll this is taking on our souls, but will others be able to see it too?

I write this knowing some won’t understand, that some will say, “What’s the big deal? It came from China anyway, right?” And yet, I have to write this because the more we become aware, the more we listen and try to understand each other’s experiences and stories, the more we recognize the humanity in one another. Perhaps when we do, we’ll learn to think twice before we speak and act, before we mistreat someone who looks or acts differently from us, before we categorize people as “less than” in our hearts, minds, with our words, and even with our policies.

I’ve been ruminating on how Jesus looked at people with compassion — people who were distressed and sick, people who were unclean and dying, people who were stubborn and naive and didn’t understand Him.

I imagine what His eyes of compassion looked like, and the face of a Middle Eastern man with brown skin and brown eyes comes to mind. He looks at the crowd, at the rich young ruler, at the woman whose son has died, and His eyes soften. I imagine Him on the cross looking at John and His beloved mother, love spilling over for His people in His last breaths, and His eyes soften. He sees their pain and grief, their hunger, their blindness — both physical and spiritual. He sees their humanity, and His love for them changes the way He looks at them.

In a time when control is out of our hands, when fear and anxiety rule our hearts and cause panic and pain for others, I become overwhelmed and all my words seem useless. But like clay in my hands, I shape them into crude prayers — Lord, please. Help. Heal. Have mercy.

I pray for the people who hoard and steal out of fear or because they can. I pray for lawmakers and leaders in our nation and in our churches. I pray for Asian Americans and those who spit on us, judge us, and hurt us. I pray for the sick, the dying, the vulnerable, the ones exposed and those who won’t be able to recover from this. My prayers come out in tears, while lying awake in bed, while kneading dough to make bread, while playing with my children at home, while reading updates on the news.

I pray for eyes of compassion that lead to justice and generosity and for our lives to look more like Jesus’ when He lived on earth as human — absorbing the pain of others, overturning the tables of the greedy, making seen the outcast, welcoming the foreigner, comforting the lonely, exposing the systems that are cracked and in need of redemption. I pray we all come out of this time broken but kinder, weary but with a clearer vision for how to be human.

 

[bctt tweet=”My prayer for this time: Lord, please. Help. Heal. Have mercy. #covid19 #compassion -@gracepcho:” username=”incourage”]

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”]