When You Can’t Catch Their Every Tear

When You Can’t Catch Their Every Tear

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We welcome him into our bed, our little guy. Except he isn’t so little anymore. He’s five years old and tall with lengthy limbs. Into the bed he comes, carrying his favorite books and stuffed animals until we are all squished — Mom, Dad, and our not-so-little boy.

He sleeps with us when he can’t sleep, or when we need to separate him from our two-year-old toddler who takes forever and a day to fall asleep . . . and stay asleep.

We put on the diffuser, dim the lights, and play his favorite soothing music. We accommodate him to the best of our ability, making space for this not-so-little son of ours.

One night, while the three of us were all scrunched asleep in our full-size bed, the soothing music that was streaming from our iPad stopped playing. The sound abruptly transitioned to a playlist with upbeat music. I awoke, stepped out of bed, and turned off the iPad. But, in no less than fifteen seconds, I heard rustling from our bed and a quiet voice that followed.

“Why’d you turn the iPad off?” asked my son.

“The music stopped playing,” I said. “It’s okay, just close your eyes and go back to sleep,” I reassured him.

Then he mumbled something, a whining sound that pulled and twisted my ears. Too tired in the wee hours of the morning to decipher what he was saying, I rolled into bed and told him again to go back to sleep . . . again. But then came the tears — a silent sniffling, a whimpering that he tried to conceal as he cried while burrowed in the blankets.

Every fiber of my being wanted to swoop in and save him, wipe away the tears, and stop them from coming. But the truth is . . . I wanted to cry too, right there, squished in that bed and sandwiched between all my own emotions.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” I asked him, checking my phone to see just how early this “wee in the morning” was. (It was 4:15.)

He paused for a few seconds, then calmly whispered, “I just don’t like being squished in small spaces.” Small spaces, meaning our full-size bed was not big enough for the three of us. It’s his most common complaint when he spends the night in our bed. There are too many people. There’s not enough space. I need more room. You need a bigger bed, he says.

As he cried, I realized — I wanted to cry, too. Because he was right — our full-size bed isn’t all that big . . . but it is all we can afford. Our full-size bed, along with our rented, pinched-for-space townhome with no backyard, is the best we have to give right now. It’s all we have to give.

And did he know, as I held back tears of my own, right then and there at 4:15 AM, that I’ll never be able to give him all he wants and needs? Because I am only human and there will always be some gaping need, longing, or lack that I cannot fix or fulfill.

I didn’t cry at that moment, but I did tell him that if he needed more space, he could go to his room and spread out in his own bed. So, off he went — closing the door behind him. As I lay there, I thought about how I’d been in this place before — hearing or seeing or even just fearing the fall of someone else’s tears while knowing there was nothing I could do to fix the world for them, or change their situation, or save the day, or give them something better.

It’s the place of not being able to catch someone else’s every tear, not being able to meet their every need or fulfill their every dream or desire. And, there comes a time when we step out of the shimmering illusion, the lie that we can be everything all at once and that we can save everyone. There comes a time when, sandwiched between the end of ourselves and the need of someone else, we realize — we’re not meant or made to shoulder it all, to sustain it all.

There is no interior well, wide or deep enough, from which we can live out all our good intentions or our fiercest love. There is only One who can deeply and fully meet and shepherd our loved ones in and through their every longing, loneliness, and loss.

When I realize I can’t meet the wants, wishes, and needs of others, I learn to instead, release them to the only One who can. This looks less like bending myself into impossible shapes to save the day and more like praying for the people and places I care for.

This looks less like making promises and looks more like embracing (and even explaining to others) my reality, limitations, and how disappointments and desires sometimes persist on this side of heaven.

This looks less like stiffening up at the cascade of toddler tears or disgruntled complaints from my not-so-little boy, and more like teaching him how I have entrusted him into the spacious and gracious hands of the only One who can hold all things, all people.

God is the only one who can — deeply and fully — catch and care for our every wish, dream, want, need, joy, heartbreak, fear, and tear. May we come to Him and cry on Him — for every little and not-so-little thing.

 

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The Gift of a Grilled Cheese

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At three o’clock on a cold winter morning, I found myself making a grilled cheese sandwich.

Our foster child, a nine-year-old girl from Mexico was to get on a plane and finally be reunited with her parents after five years of separation. I asked her if she was hungry and with her hair a little disheveled and eyes not quite used to the kitchen light, she nodded yes.

“¿Qué te gustaría comer?,” I asked, wanting to know what she’d like to eat. “Pan con queso,” she replied. Easy, I thought. Just a simple grilled cheese.

I spread butter on the bread, heated up the pan, and the scent of hot toast and melted cheese quickly filled the room. I remembered another time in my life when grilled cheese made a frequent appearance: right after college, while working in a group home for teenage girls in New York City. I was taking care of kids that were not much younger than myself, though the circumstances of our lives couldn’t have been more different.

I grew up in the Midwest in a safe and loving home with two parents, two brothers, and our dog. We played outside with our neighbors. We took the bus to school. We went to church on Sundays. We had home-cooked meals and ate dinner together as a family every night.

But for these teenage girls in New York City, relationships with family were unstable, impacted by illness or poverty or addiction . . . or a world of other issues outside of their control. They had often moved and switched schools multiple times, ultimately being separated from the ones that they loved.

My job in the group home was to help with everyday tasks. I woke the girls up in the mornings and made sure they got to school. I took them to doctor’s appointments and on excursions to the movies or the record store. And, occasionally, I would cook them breakfast or an after-school snack.

The government provided us with staple ingredients each week, always including a loaf of bread, a block of cheese, and a brick of butter. So one day, I asked one of the girls if she wanted a grilled cheese sandwich. As soon as I made that first sandwich, the floodgates opened. Another girl saw the sandwich and asked for one for herself — then another girl and another. Soon enough, I had used the whole loaf of bread and the entire block of cheese.

It was such a simple meal, a simple act, but I knew it meant something more. I knew this because one of the ways that I felt loved as a child was when my mom cooked something special for me. Even now, I can imagine her making cinnamon sugar toast by heating up buttered bread between pieces of wax paper on the ironing board.

The Bible is full of stories about Jesus sharing simple meals with people in their homes. Alongside His words and teaching, Jesus’ life highlights the small gestures of care that He gave others.

In John 21, Jesus appears to His disciples who were fishing but not catching anything. He tells them to throw their net on the right side of the boat and, when they do, they catch so many fish that they can barely haul them in. After such a miracle, what happens next could be overlooked.

“Jesus said to them, ‘Bring some of the fish you have just caught.’ So Simon Peter climbed back into the boat and dragged the net ashore. It was full of large fish, 153, but even with so many the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, ‘Come and have breakfast.’ None of the disciples dared ask him, ‘Who are you?’ They knew it was the Lord. Jesus came, took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish.”
John 21:9-13

“Come and have breakfast.” Just four words but filled with so much love and care.

So often when we are trying to make a difference in the world — or even in our own families — we focus on grand gestures and big plans. We might underestimate what a small gesture can mean, like making a little something for your child, the kid next door, your elderly neighbor, or your overwhelmed friend.

When our foster child finished the grilled cheese sandwich and put the empty plate on the kitchen counter, she smiled at me and, expressing gratitude, said, “Gracias.” I gave her a hug because I was the one filled with so much gratitude for being able to be a part of her life — even if only for a few weeks.

I tried to smile and hold back tears, praying she’d know and feel my love through this moment . . . and through this grilled cheese sandwich.

It’s Time to Experience the Lord’s Goodness

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Taste and see that the Lord is good;
blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.
Psalm 34:8

God’s goodness isn’t something we are meant to simply acknowledge intellectually or believe theologically. Rather, God wants us to actively experience His goodness.

“Taste and see that the Lord is good,” the psalmist encourages. It’s a call to engage our most human senses in order to recognize and enjoy our divine Creator.

As summer is upon us, look for opportunities to taste and see that which reflects God’s goodness. Savor a cold glass of homemade lemonade or bite into a juicy piece of watermelon. Enjoy watching red tomatoes grow in your garden or the summer sunset along the horizon with streaks of gold, pink, and dusty violet.

Let everything you taste and see become a reminder to turn in thanks to the Giver of all good things. Let His goodness compel you to seek refuge in Him.

 

When You Don’t Feel Like Forgiving

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The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
     He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
     he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
    for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk
    through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil,
    for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
    they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me
    in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
    my cup overflows.
Surely your goodness and love will follow me
    all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord
    forever.
Psalm 23

“Don’t let the age of this book fool you,” my mom said. “Check out page 39.”

I curled my fingers around the tattered copy of Catherine Marshall’s Something More, completely unimpressed. I hate awkward moments, so I pretended not to notice the yellow, outdated pages and took it. If nothing else, I could relate to its worn-out cover.

“Thanks,” I said and tucked it in my purse, planning to keep it long enough so she would forget she’d given it to me.

The past month had been rough, leaving me feeling more like a beat-up old book than the cheerful mom I wanted to be. As I considered my actions, I wasn’t impressed: impatience with the kids, annoyance with every little snag in my day, focused on the negative, and unable to see the positive.

I was suffering from unforgiveness. While I didn’t realize I needed to forgive and didn’t feel like forgiving, I turned to page 39 in Marshall’s book and read:

“(To forgive) can be a simple prayer like, ‘Lord, I release from my judgment.’”

It seemed too easy, but I did know that forgiveness was my only way out of the emotional stew of bad behavior. The trouble was that I didn’t have the energy to feel it or to bring the required oomph this kind of forgiveness required. So with a sliver of hope, I took a breath and read the prayer, filling in the blank. I felt nothing. Zip. Nada. No watershed moment. No holy healing, hands-in-the-air hallelujah. Just me, still sitting awkwardly in the car, still and worn out as the book in my hand. I was unsure of what to do next, but sure that I’d been at this stop sign for far too long — even for a small town. I turned to the next yellowed page and three words stopped me short: “A non-emotional release.”

Non-emotional. That was exactly how I felt. I didn’t feel forgiving, and it would take days for me to notice the change, but in meekly forcing that thought through my head, in saying the words, something shifted. I was no longer in charge of this person’s accountability. I felt light, like my muscles could move, finally out from under the resentment I’d been heaping on week after week.

I am ridiculously capable of building my own prison. God’s gift of forgiveness is like a key. He keeps the original but has gone to the hardware store to make us a duplicate, ensuring we’re never left out in the cold. He first forgives us, then gives us the grace to forgive others even when we don’t feel forgiving, His Spirit loosening hinges we didn’t realize were rusted tight.

And it doesn’t make sense. God’s peace beyond understanding restores my soul for the millionth time, and I’m left with gratitude, like a fresh new book, pages crisp and ready to be turned once again for the first time.

This excerpt is by Evi Wusk, as published in the (in)courage Devotional Bible. 

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On Saturdays this summer, we’re sharing our favorite Psalms + select devotions from the (in)courage Devotional Bible. We’re loving our summer Saturdays (in) the Psalms with you!

 

We Can Graciously Disagree with Each Other

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In high school, one of my favorite movies  was “You’ve Got Mail.”

Call it the writer in me, I loved everything from the plot set in a bookstore to Frank’s obsession with typewriters and Kathleen Kelly’s (played by the spunky Meg Ryan) desire to send her online friend a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils on the first day of school.

There are also the quotable lines. Who can forget Joe’s (a la Tom Hank) impression of the Godfather? Or his bit about Starbucks’ orders? I practically have that movie memorized, but the line that has sunk deep in my soul is Joe’s warning to Kathleen about the power of words.

Throughout the movie, the two protagonists war over their respective bookstores, making snarky comments to each other in the process. But at one point, Joe tells Kathleen to watch what she says, because “When you finally have the pleasure of saying the things you mean to say, at the moment you mean to say it, remorse usually follows.”

Don’t you just love that line?

It’s so true!

There are so many moments in my life that I can recall just laying a zinger on someone. You know, those “trump cards” to win an argument or to shut the other person down. Though it might feel good in the moment to truly say everything that I’m feeling, I have always felt horrible afterward.

Sharp, unfiltered words cause people pain.

I don’t care how long I’ve been dreaming about just letting someone have it. I don’t care how many “shower talks” I’ve had where I’ve rehearsed my argument and nailed every word I wanted to say. When it comes to real life, disagreeing with someone in loud, harsh ways never leads to productive conversation.

Like Kathleen Kelly in “You’ve Got Mail,” I’ve learned the importance of graciously disagreeing with the people in my life.

Christians aren’t called to never disagree with people. But Scripture does call us to disagree in healthy, appropriate ways.

Proverbs 15:1 says, “A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.”

I love how this verse puts gentleness and harshness on opposite sides of the spectrum. It’s not that we can’t be angry or frustrated when someone says something we disagree with. Sometimes people really do say upsetting things. But when someone really riles us up, when someone does or says something that just gets our blood boiling, the way of Christ is to respond with gentleness, not harshness.

To be harsh is to be cruel. It’s to position our words in such a way that we hurt the other person, perhaps in the same way that they’ve hurt us. To be gentle doesn’t mean we can’t speak the truth. But when we give someone “a gentle answer,” we do so without aggression or arrogance. We speak in such a way that we show our care for the other person as a human being made in the image of God. And we speak in soft, kind ways for the purpose of better understanding the other person, connecting with them, and developing mutual respect.

One of the ways I’ve learned to be gracious with people I disagree with is by choosing to ask open-ended questions.

For example, if I’m conversing with someone who holds an opposing position, I might ask:

  1. What got you interested in this topic?
  2. What do you feel is your biggest fear when it comes to this topic?
  3. What do you wish would happen regarding this topic?
  4. Has this topic impacted you personally? If so, would you be open to sharing about it?
  5. What does the future hold if nothing changes around this topic?

These types of questions help me attune my heart and mind to the other person.

Instead of just blurting out the first angry thought that comes into my mind, taking time to formulate a thoughtful question slows me down, helps me get my breathing and heart under control, and allows me to try to extend an olive branch to the other person.

In fact, the more I genuinely try to get to know the other person, the more my anger subsides. Because as our conversation persists, I learn more about their experiences (good and bad), their hopes, their frustrations, and their dreams for the future. The more I listen, the more I’m able to humanize the other person and see them for who they truly are: a child made in God’s image.

Listening to each other’s stories and needs fosters true understanding, which leads to deeper care and affection for one another. Even if two Christians still have to part ways at the end of a disagreement, they can do so knowing that they chose the path of gentleness, kindness, and respect.

The next time you find yourself disagreeing with someone, choose the path of gentleness and grace. Who knows what doors of connection and understanding God will open for you?! 

 

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Grief and God’s Unexpected Mercy

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One way God extended a hand of mercy to me was through my community. The grief journey is strange and unpredictable. I will forever be grateful for the dear friends who stepped onto the windy, uphill path of grief with me — including a man named Shawn.

I had met Shawn at the same time I met my late husband, Ericlee, on a mission trip to Haiti. Shawn and Ericlee were good friends from high school who shared many interests and passions. Shawn became my prayer partner on that trip and eventually was instrumental in bringing Ericlee and me together.

Shawn was a groomsman in our wedding and offered a toast at the reception. We traveled with Shawn. He visited us and celebrated the births of our three children with us. Through the years he supported our nonprofit in Haiti both prayerfully and financially.

Two years prior to Ericlee’s death, Shawn was sitting in church and his pastor was preaching a series about God’s heart for widows, orphans, refugees, and the poor. Something pricked Shawn’s heart as he thought about his own mother, who was a widow living in California. Shawn lived in Maryland at the time but felt like God was calling him to move back home to help care for his mother. Ericlee and I prayed for Shawn as he looked for jobs in California, which was where we lived.

Ericlee was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer in May of the following year. The news hit us all like a sucker punch to the gut. Shawn came to visit that summer.

We didn’t realize that was the last time we would all be together. Ericlee graduated to heaven that September.

The week of Ericlee’s funeral Shawn got a call from UCLA. They wanted to interview him for a position. It just so happened he already had tickets to travel through Los Angeles to the funeral and could do the interview in person. The following Monday they offered him the job. This wasn’t a coincidence. In fact, this was just the beginning of how our sovereign God orchestrated every detail of Shawn’s life to join with mine.

We kindled our relationship over many months. Shawn was the person who listened to me cry on the phone. He prayed over me. This was God’s mercy — sending me a friend who loved Ericlee dearly and didn’t put expectations on me through the grief journey.

Shawn drove from Los Angeles to Fresno to visit us on the weekends and spent quality time with the girls and me. Eventually, I began to look at him in a new way. My heart was opening, and those seeds of hope sprouted as God began to unfold His wild plan for our future. Despite my worries, our friends and families gave us their resounding blessing.

On our wedding day, our Author-God invited my three young daughters and me into a redeemed story only He could write. Out of our brokenness, God was bringing abundance.

More than seven hundred people filled the church to celebrate with us. These were the people who had prayed for Ericlee’s healing and grieved with us. These were the people who stood by my side on my darkest days and lifted me up. That day in January was not just our wedding. It was a glory story our community wanted to be a part of because it spoke volumes about God’s mercy and grace.

Shawn and I exchanged our vows under a painted red sign that proclaimed the word glory because we wanted everyone who attended our wedding to know that God was the one who deserved all the glory for bringing us together.

When I look back over our wedding pictures, joy and wonder still bubble up in my spirit. We laughed, we cried, we feasted, and we danced. God provided for all of us in a way we could not have imagined. He brought beauty from the ashes.

Friend, we serve a God of mercy. It’s part of His character. Not every widow’s story will turn out like mine. Not everyone will experience grief the same way my family has. But I know that the God of mercy is longing to meet you in your circumstances too.

I return to the words of David: “You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; you have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever!” (Psalm 30:11–12).

I’m so excited to share with you Create in Me a Heart of Mercy.

It’s the final study in our series of four transformational Bible studies. If you loved Heart of Hope, Heart of Peace, and Heart of Wisdom, you’ll love this! But you can also just jump right into Heart of Mercy, which is now available wherever books are sold, including:

This Bible study was heart-and-life-changing to write, and I believe it’s going to help you encounter God and fall in love with His Word in fresh ways too.

Get your copy now because our online Bible study starts MONDAY! (I can’t wait to talk together about all things wisdom and Jesus with you!) FIND ALL THE ONLINE BIBLE STUDY DETAILS HERE. And be sure to SIGN UP so we can send you the first week of the Create in Me a Heart of Mercy + a printable of Scripture memory verses for FREE! You’ll also get first access to the teaching videos and more.

Join the online study and let’s seek hearts of mercy — together.

 

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The Path to Worry Free (Are You a Pathfinder?)

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Recently, I was in the middle of mindlessly scrolling on TikTok, and in between the videos of summer fashion finds and a dog being rescued after seven months in a shelter (the algorithm knows my love of secondhand puppy-shopping videos), there was a video about space exploration. My interests are teasingly diverse…

You see, in 1997 there was a robot on Mars called Pathfinder.

Back in the 1990s, you couldn’t control a robot on Mars remotely from Earth, so they had to send one with general commands and then let the robot decide what to do next and trust the robot to do its own thing. The robot had to manage its own tasks, such as dropping off tools, taking pictures, gathering data, etc.

But this little robot wasn’t doing anything. It was just, well, kind of sitting there. It wasn’t accomplishing anything.

Why? Because its scheduling algorithms were overwhelmed. For those who don’t speak fluent computer, an algorithm is a set of instructions, such as a recipe. Sometimes computers have so many instructions that they get confused and can’t decide what to do first. It’s like a little kid having too many toys to play with and not enough time to play with them all.

In essence, this little computer was procrastinating.

It would start to make progress on a task, and then it would decide another task was actually more important. So, it would start on the next task, not finishing the first one.

This is a cycle that computer scientists call thrashing. Thrashing is the state of being where a computer uses 100% of its power to decide what task to do next, instead of using that power to actually work on a task.

It’s not that it’s not doing anything — it’s using its full strength but not accomplishing anything.

I’ve never identified so deeply with a robot in my life.

I am the reigning queen of starting on a project and then, seeing something else that is equally important (and, let’s face it, equally ignored), starting on that, until the next super-important-but-also-ignored task catches my eye.

And that is why I can drop into bed at 7:30 at night, exhausted, but also recognizing that nothing officially got checked off my list that day. (Just as I was writing that last sentence, I remembered that I needed to check in with a client, but am forcing myself to keep writing because… irony…)

I continue to have to train myself to stay on the project (or problem) in front of me, instead of borrowing stress from yesterday or tomorrow. There is enough to handle today.

I realize sometimes that I’m looking for a distraction. When a problem becomes challenging, it’s easy to want to move on to something that will be less difficult, less painful, less intense, less boring.

That hustle comes from the desire to get everything done because I don’t want to let anyone, especially God, down. But God’s Word reminds us that He’s not about the hustle. In fact, the ancient wisdom contained in Matthew 6:34 sounds like what a lot of therapists and productivity experts would say today: “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

When I start to get overwhelmed, I try to put a couple of practices into motion:

  1. A daily to-do list. Every day, I start a list of things that need to be done. I also underline the things that must be done today, such as car registration and emailing Becky. I then assign other items that are not a “today” item to other days of the week. Everything has to be done, but not everything has to be done right now.
  2. Assign the time. I’ve realized I can’t stop at a list. I actually need to put that list on my calendar so that I have assigned the time to work on my items. Otherwise, I make a list of twenty things when I only have time to do four and get worried that I’m not working on the right things. By writing them down and adding them to my calendar, I can ensure that important tasks get done, but allow my brain to stop cycling on those tasks.
  3. Create a routine. I have a list of morning routines and evening routines that I do every day. Because there is no decision-making (these five things get done every morning and these five things get done every evening), it takes a lot of the stress out of the decisions and I don’t procrastinate. It’s just what I do, and it makes my life go so much more smoothly.

So much of worry comes from either living in the past or living in the future. When we concentrate on the present, we’re able to better recognize all the ways God has equipped us for the moment and experience the abundance He has for us.

Need extra encouragement when it comes to getting your daily list done? Join Kathi and her team over in their Facebook group, the Clutter Free Academy.

 

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He Is with You When You’re Face-Down on the Carpet

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It was May of 2016, somewhere around 10:30 p.m. It was another night in the brutal nightmare that had made up the last year-and-a-half, and it was during that time when I began to secretly self-medicate.

We’d spent the previous year seeking medical answers non-stop, during which time I’d also given birth to our third child. Only three months after my baby boy’s birth, my husband underwent corrective brain surgery, losing his job and our health insurance immediately after.

Though I’d graduated college and worked most of my adult life, we’d chosen to make sacrifices so I could remain home while our children were small. We had worked so hard trying to establish a good footing for our family . . .  but in a matter of weeks, everything had been reduced to a pile of rubble.

By this point, Chad had been officially diagnosed with ALS, and I was already so depleted from the grueling journey to the diagnosis that I began to spiral quickly. My life was falling apart. I felt obliterated, alone, and utterly hopeless. I was on the brink of complete despair.

On this particular May night, once everyone was in bed I laid down outside, sipping from the can in my hand. This had become my go-to posture. My place of escape was to look up at the stars and try to calm the fear tyrant inside me.

Chad was dying. I felt like I was too.

The presence of God felt completely withdrawn. Gone — just like the life we once had.

What had gone so wrong? What grave sin had I committed to cause this level of destruction?

As tears began seeping out the sides of my eyes, I tried to talk to God but couldn’t speak. All I could do was keep taking one deep, labored breath after the next. A stream of shandy-laced saliva converged with a stream of trauma-induced tears, forming a river of fluids that ran out the sides of my mouth, down my neck and shoulders, soaking the back of my shirt. Lord, how did I get here?

As I rolled my body upward in a grand attempt to stand, I realized the six-pack I’d purchased was now gone, right along with my balance. My fingers collided with the red brick that literally keeps my home together. I somehow managed to fumble my way through the French doors leading to the interior of my basement and ended up face-down on the carpet. Face-down, as the reality of what I was facing surged through my body.

I felt angry that I couldn’t take care of my growing children and dying husband while staying on top of the bills and the housework. I felt guilty that I couldn’t do it all. I felt shame thinking that I’d probably somehow caused it all — and to boot, now I was drunk! God, You’re definitely punishing me, I thought. Maybe if I’d had more faith, I reasoned. Maybe if I had attended more revivals, hosted more children’s ministry activities, or worn looser fitting clothing? Maybe then I would have earned a good, happy, and picturesque life.

I had tried to live up to the standards of being a “good and faithful” Christian, but my mistakes were many — too many, I feared.

At that moment all I could mutter was, “God, please send help. I can’t do this by myself for one more day.”

The next day it was around lunchtime when an unexpected text came through: “Hey Lori, I wanted to let you know I’ve had it on my heart to help you with the kids while you care for Chad.” I couldn’t believe my eyes. HELP was here. Help that would come almost daily for the next six months.

I was so broken in that season and continued breaking. But later I could see that it was in that moment of failing and falling face-down on the carpet that God met me. It was in that moment of breakdown that He lovingly came near and consoled me.

As the days and weeks progressed, I began to see that not only was God providing help to me through this woman, but He was also comforting my children.

At the time, most people didn’t know that Chad’s mother was diagnosed with ALS only a few months after he was. This meant the grandmother our children deeply loved was now being simultaneously claimed by the same disease that was claiming their father.

But God knew ALL of this, and because He is El Shaddai (God ALL-Powerful), He’d already begun working behind the scenes by sending this woman and her husband to become surrogate grandparents during the very same time my children’s biological grandparents were being pulled away.

Friend, God is with us in the hard and He’s with us in the easy. He is with us in the ugly and He’s with us in the beautiful. He is with us in our good decisions and He’s with us in the bad ones. He is with us on the mountain and He’s with us in the valley. If you find yourself fallen, face-down on the carpet, He is right there with you too.  

In the moments when your t-shirt is stained with shandy-laced saliva and trauma-induced tears . . . and in the moments when you have carpet-burned cheeks and a prayer of desperation on your lips — yes, God is with you even then.

 

Listen to today’s article below or wherever you stream podcasts.

Here’s the Promise: Goodness Will Chase You Down

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Keep a straight face, I thought to myself.

Everything was already in place. The date was marked on a dozen calendars. The cards were signed, the gifts wrapped, the decorations purchased — everything was ready for her celebration.

Then, just a handful of days before the surprise, I listened as she spoke words of frustration and loneliness. I could see the weariness in her eyes, hear it in her strained voice, and I blinked back tears at her pain even as I bit my tongue.

The words threatened to burst bright like fireworks against the night, clamoring around inside, longing to be spoken and offered as a gift of hope.

“Oh friend, if you only knew,” I wanted to say. “Something so very good is just around the corner. It won’t be long until you see that the very thing you’re worried about has already been taken care of. The fear that’s rising will soon be stilled. You are dearly loved, valued, and seen. Hang on just a few more days, friend. Goodness is already on the way.”

Days later, the full room buzzed with excitement, smiles spread wide across faces, and then, for just a moment, everything stilled. All was quiet until suddenly one unanimous word broke the silence: “Surprise!!!”

There were hugs and squeals, party hats and pictures, and once again I found myself blinking back tears at the look in her eyes. This time, though, they threatened to spill with joy.

As the days have gone by, I’ve found myself returning to one thought that played on a loop between the conversation and the celebration:

This must be the tiniest glimpse of how Jesus feels all the time.

He’s the Beginning and the End, the One who knows what’s on every single page of the story, and I can’t help but wonder if He occasionally claps His nail-scarred hands in joyful anticipation, smiling as He says, “Oh daughter, if you only knew.”

There are things I’ve longed for, and prayed for, for over a decade now. I can only imagine what it would be like to voice my frustration or heartache and hear, “Just hold on three more days.” Truthfully, I’d love a countdown clock, a heavenly calendar declaring when the seemingly impossible will come to be and the waiting will turn to celebrating.

For now, I’m learning to rest in knowing that He knows what I don’t. I’m learning to trust that goodness is always here and also always on the way. I’m learning to believe that it won’t be long before I see that I’ve been seen all along, and the very things I’m burdened by today were taken care of long ago. For now, I’m remembering a tiny glimpse and an old promise.

Psalm 23:6 says that goodness and mercy will follow us every single day. The Hebrew word used for follow, radaph, means to pursue or to chase. Far from a casual stroll, this is an all-out sprint, a guarantee that every day, on every single page of the story, goodness is pounding the pavement, coming for us over and over again. We may not see it yet. It might look like fear is following behind, it might feel like worry is weighing down, or seem like pain or sadness will get the last word . . . but the countdown is on. The party hats have been purchased. The celebration is certain.

We may not know the timeline, but we do know that the One who holds time is faithful to keep His Word.

As Joshua 23:14 says, “Know this with all your heart, with everything in you, that not one detail has failed of all the good things God, your God, promised you. It has all happened. Nothing’s left undone — not so much as a word.”

Jesus hears every cry and sees every tear. He doesn’t miss a thing, listening to our frustrations and worries with patience and kindness. He welcomes every word, day after day and year after year. He knows exactly how long it’s been, how weary we are, and He draws nearer still. But perhaps if we look closely, we’ll see a small smile tugging at His lips or a twinkle in His eye as He wipes the tears from our own. Maybe, when all is quiet, we’ll hear a gentle but joyful whispered promise:

Daughter, something so very good is just around the corner. It won’t be long until you see that the very thing you’re worried about has already been taken care of. The fear that’s rising will soon be stilled. You are dearly loved, valued, and seen. Hang on just a little bit longer. Goodness is already on the way.

—

Today we’re thrilled to welcome new voices to the (in)courage podcast! We thank Rachel Marie Kang for sharing her gifts with us these past few months, and we welcome Anna E. Rendell as the new narrator. Take a listen at the player below, or wherever you stream pods.

6 Words That Change Everything

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The angel of the Lord came, and he sat under the oak that was in Ophrah, which belonged to Joash, the Abiezrite. His son Gideon was threshing wheat in the winepress in order to hide it from the Midianites. Then the angel of the Lord appeared to him and said, “The Lord is with you, valiant warrior.”

Gideon said to him, “Please, my lord, if the Lord is with us, why has all this happened? And where are all his wonders that our ancestors told us about? They said, ‘Hasn’t the Lord brought us out of Egypt?’ But now the Lord has abandoned us and handed us over to Midian.”

The Lord turned to him and said, “Go in the strength you have and deliver Israel from the grasp of Midian. I am sending you!”

He said to him, “Please, Lord, how can I deliver Israel? Look, my family is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the youngest in my father’s family.”

“But I will be with you,” the Lord said to him. “You will strike Midian down as if it were one man.”
Judges 6:11-16

Don’t you just love how God’s answer to Gideon’s doubts and insecurity is His presence?

God doesn’t refute Gideon’s claims that he is too weak, too young, too poor, essentially, too much of a nobody to be called by God and do brave things for Him. God knows exactly who Gideon is and exactly what his background, struggles, and qualifications (or lack thereof) are. But still, God calls him a “valiant warrior.” Why? Because of what comes before that: “The Lord is with you.”

God’s presence is mightier than any disadvantage or setback. 

Whenever we face something that’s too much for us, God answers, “But I will be with you.”

And those six words change everything.

 

Let the Peoples Praise God

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May God be gracious to us and bless us;
may he make his face shine upon us Selah
so that your way may be known on Earth,
your salvation among all nations.

Let the peoples praise you, God;
let all the peoples praise you.
Let the nations rejoice and shout for joy,
for you judge the people with fairness
and lead the nations on Earth. Selah
Let the peoples praise you, God,
let all the peoples praise you.

The earth has produced its harvest;
God, our God, blesses us.
God will bless us,
and all the ends of the earth will fear him.
Psalm 67

In Exodus 33, Moses asks to see God’s glory. God makes provisions for Moses to enter into His presence but tells him, “You cannot see my face, for humans cannot see me and live.” In light of that verse, the blessing at the beginning of Psalm 67 is that we not only get to be in the presence of God but we also have the privilege of having His face turned toward us. God doesn’t turn His back on us when things are not right in the world.

Instead, He bends low and enters into the mess with us, and He is gracious.

The word Selah comes after that sentence to indicate a pause. Selah is an invitation to take a breath and soak in what was just read.

Today, let’s look to God who guides us in the unknown. Let’s praise God who leads us.

Pause and rest in that truth.

—

On Saturdays this summer, we’re sharing our favorite Psalms + select devotions from the (in)courage Devotional Bible. We’re loving our summer Saturdays (in) the Psalms with you!

 

Today, listen to a special bonus episode of the (in)courage podcast as Jami Nato and Becky Keife talk about Jami’s new book, This Must Be the Place! Pick up your copy — and leave a comment on the excerpt post from yesterday to enter to WIN one of five copies!

Your Story Is Enough

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Stories matter. I read research that said certain parts of your brain light up when someone starts telling a story. It’s why we love books and movies and the arts. We read the same stories over and over in the Bible and dissect them meticulously saying, “What was God doing here?”  

That’s one reason I started writing (although you don’t have to be a writer to share your story). Blogspot, Instagram, Facebook, any form of social media — they were all free, and no one cared if I used capital letters at the beginning of my sentences (newsflash, I didn’t), or if I was using proper grammar, or if I said things a little off-color. I just told the truth about my life without sugarcoating the tough spots. And others found themselves there too.

When I started writing my first book, I had a publisher pursue me. That may be rare, but in the end, even after garnering me a writing coach at a good cost, they rejected my proposal. I hear that memoirs are hard to sell in any genre, but especially in the faith space. We have this thing where everything must be useful and prove its worth. Of course, that’s not the faith we profess verbally (not by works but by faith!). But it’s how we function.

All those true and chaotic stories of my life, the testimonies of my foolishness and success, just weren’t deemed enough. “Half of us really liked it, and half of us didn’t get the point.” When the publisher gave that feedback, I honestly felt relieved. I was scared to put a book out there because I knew what it would mean: when you tell the truth about your life, not everyone makes it out unscathed. People get hurt, and so do you. So I quit the book. Here I was, with a story to tell, but no market to tell it in. 

But the book wouldn’t quit me. 

I started wondering, Why do we forget to ask the same question of ourselves that we ask of Bible characters: “What was God doing there?”  

What was God doing in my stories? I was honest in that book. I was vulnerable about infidelity, miscarriage, and our differently-abled child. I told the truth about motherhood and how in it, a part of you dies. I told how I taught a blind man to drive a John Deere Buggy, and how I sold my neighbors’ own rocks back to them in a bit of shady entrepreneurship at age eight. How I rose to the top of my network marketing company, and I liked being successful. (Many of you will stop reading here. But wait, would you like to look at this amazing business opportunity before you go?! Just kidding.) I discussed not fitting into evangelical spaces because I like to work, and I am more than a wife and a mother. (Gasp!) 

It takes a bit of looking back to look forward, and in doing so, we’ll find a lot of buried treasure. If we keep looking at the moments in our lives that really shaped us and get curious about how and why they did that, we’ll start making connections. I really liked that idea, and still do. Publishers liked it too, and we got a deal.

There’s a marketing saying, “The riches are in the niches.” But it’s not just for marketing. You are a niche, so varied from the next person, so valuable just by being alive. God knew we’d need all types to help us see different facets of Himself. I love that because it lends itself to a unique purpose for each of us. And your purpose certainly won’t look like mine or anyone else’s. It just can’t. That’s really good news in a world that says everyone needs to act and look like whatever the railing trend is at the time. (I can’t get behind JUICY bedazzled on the rear of my pink velour sweatsuit for another round. I draw the line somewhere!)

My wish for you is that you would take up more space in storytelling, in bearing witness to your layered and complicated life. And letting others bear witness. Write it down. Tell the vulnerable truth. Say it with your own mouth, with your own pen. That’s what happened as I wrote This Must Be the Place — seeing how the stories of my life have led me to exactly where I am and what I do today. When you ask yourself past-probing questions, you’ll discover the clues God has left along the way. I guarantee you’ll start connecting dots and stop seeing “coincidences” but unique empathies, talents, and callings. Looking back makes you look forward. You won’t be able to help yourself. And when you start feeling on purpose, you have a giant permission slip to live uniquely as you without comparing yourself to others’ lives that aren’t meant to be yours.

Take up space with your story. The world is ready to bear witness to your rich life. And while we’re not after usefulness, your story may be a breadcrumb on the trail of someone else’s life. 

—

Through stories like a quirky childhood selling rocks and a season of brokenness in her marriage, Jami’s new book, This Must Be the Place: Following the Breadcrumbs of Your Past to Discover Your Purpose Today, uses the breadcrumbs from her life to give women permission to discover the purpose God has for them. With sincere encouragement and boundless humor, Jami brings a new perspective to living intentionally, chasing dreams, and finding satisfaction in using your gifts and passions.

Pick up your copy of This Must Be the Place, and leave a comment below to enter to WIN one of five copies*!

Then tune in TOMORROW (6/10/23) to a bonus episode of the (in)courage podcast as Jami talks with Becky Keife about This Must Be the Place!

 

Listen to today’s article at the player below or wherever you stream podcasts.

 

*The giveaway is open to U.S. addresses only and closes on 6/12/23 at 11:59 pm central.

Lay Down Weapons, Pick up Creativity

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What is your weapon of choice? Mine is holding a grudge. Well, it used to be.

When I felt a sense of injustice or felt wronged by someone, I whipped my bitterness and resentment into an anger-fueled grudge. I employed my grudge like a weapon of war, designed to destroy my offender and protect me. I got really comfortable with my weapon. I could aim a grudge toward someone for years! Like a skilled marksman with focused concentration, I fixed my grudge on the target. I would think, ‘This is payback for what they did’ or ‘I’ll make sure this never happens again!’

However, weaponizing my feelings of bitterness, anger, and resentment became an attack on myself. As I harbored grudges, my focus became fixated on the past, reliving the hurtful events over and over again. This mental and emotional burden restricted my ability to think clearly. Grudges kept me trapped in a cycle of negativity, draining my joy and hindering my ability to embrace the abundant life Christ has promised. My capacity to create and receive abundance was smothered by the weight of my weapon. Essentially, holding onto grudges hindered my spiritual growth and stifled my creativity.

Negative emotions –  anger, resentment, bitterness – consumed my mental and emotional energy, leaving no room for creative thinking, reimagining, and problem-solving. Psychology research backs up what I experienced. When our mind is preoccupied with negative thoughts and emotions, there is no room for generating new ideas. Concentrating on keeping my target in the crosshairs colored my perception and limited my ability to see other perspectives and possibilities. Nursing negative feelings fosters a defensive, judgmental mindset which staves off resilience and a willingness to learn from trials. Holding onto grudges can also contribute to mental rigidity, where we become stuck in our own perspectives and beliefs.

Hiding behind my weapon became unbearable when I realized that I was not keeping myself safe – I was actually keeping myself stuck. I hate feeling stuck!

The apostle Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians, urges us to release negative emotions and destructive behaviors from our lives. He encourages us to “get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice” (Ephesians 4:31). These words resonated with me, reminding me that holding onto grudges, using them as weapons against others, hindered my own liberty and suppressed my ability to be creative.

However, as a follower of Christ, I had access to a better way. I had a choice. I chose to lay down my weapon. I chose to surrender – to let go of grudges. And when I made the conscious effort to release it, I created space in my heart and mind for something beautiful to flourish — creativity. Now, when I feel myself fashioning negative emotions into a weapon, I recall Isaiah’s prophecy:

“They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks.”
Isaiah 2:4

The imagery of beating swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks symbolizes a transformation of weapons of war into tools of agriculture, growth, and flourishing. This metaphor suggests that resources and skills once devoted to war and destruction will instead be used for peaceful and productive purposes. The act of turning weapons of war into tools for farming also implies a shift from violence and aggression to peaceful coexistence and cooperation.

So for me, instead of fashioning a weapon of defense, I choose to make a conscious effort to cultivate seeds of creativity.

As we relinquish grudges and embrace creativity, we align ourselves with God’s heart. We reflect His creative character. By sowing seeds of creativity, we become vessels of God’s grace, demonstrating His transformative power to a perpetually hungry world. In this process, not only do we experience personal growth, but we also contribute to creating healed and restored relationships and communities. When we release grudges, we make room for God’s transformative work within us, allowing His love and grace to flow through every aspect of our lives, including how and what we create.

When we let go of grudges, our hearts and minds are renewed. We experience the freedom to dream, explore, and create. Walls that hinder the outpouring of our talents, gifts, and abilities collapse. Laying down our weapons unlocks our creative potential, enabling us to express ourselves authentically, and positively impact the world around us.

Today, let us examine our hearts and identify any weapons we may be holding onto. Let us bring them before the Lord, seeking His guidance and strength to release them. As we choose to let go, let us invite the Holy Spirit to ignite our creativity, infusing every area of our lives with renewed inspiration, innovative thinking, and a passion to make a positive difference.

Holy Spirit, I come before You today, acknowledging the burden of grudges I have been carrying. I confess that holding onto these negative emotions has hindered my creativity and prevented me from fully experiencing Your love and grace. I surrender my weapons to You and ask for Your strength and guidance to release them. Awaken my creativity, Lord, and help me use it to bring glory to Your name. Amen.

 

Listen to today’s article below or wherever you stream podcasts!

When We Want a New Kitchen

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I’ll never forget the angst our youngest daughter carried many years ago when she overheard a puzzling conversation. My friend mentioned how much she loved gathering at our home, but she hoped we could replace our tacky floors soon. Yes, let’s all take a deep breath on my behalf because she actually verbalized the word “tacky” to me, the owner of those most impressive floors. While expressed in a larger discussion about our ripped linoleum flooring in an older kitchen, our daughter couldn’t shake what she heard, and quite frankly, neither could I. Her perspective changed in an instant and it impacted me too.

Let me backtrack a bit. For decades, the push and pull of our finances have rubbed against the vision I desire for our physical home. It doesn’t feel so long ago that our personal life felt hard, suffocating even when it came to money. A time when we went over a year without a paycheck and our five children looked to us for reassurance. Through all the challenges, Romans 15:13 reflected my desire:

“Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you believe so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

I wanted them to see a mom whose simple faith embraced the life-giving fullness that God offers no matter the hard seasons. With both our home and our hospitality, I chose to love the home He gave us while taking great joy in using secondhand treasures to create a haven of welcome and peace.

With the kitchen as the heartbeat of our home, I engage the senses. Sweet aromas, flickering candlelight, and cut flowers (or dandelion weeds picked by our daughter) are all a precursor to the cornerstone of life found around the table. A place where people are drawn to linger and laugh, to share stories filled with hilarity and heartbreak. There’s really nothing like table fellowship in the Schmidt home  . . . until that brief comment stirred something unexpected.

Our daughter never cared about the state of our unfinished kitchen before, and yet her once contented soul started hounding me about something which we had no financial resources to fix. “Mom, when are we replacing our floors? You heard her. They’re tacky. You know they are.”

In an unexpected instance, the enemy of our souls (disguised as comparison) snuck up to steal our joy.

John 10:10 says it clearly, “A thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I have come so that they may have life and have it in abundance.”

I reminisce on that past exchange because I’ve allowed the thief in once again. Discontent burrowing, I’m frustrated that years later I still have dingy kitchen cabinets and our refrigerator shelves are literally duct-taped together. All work on my nonprofit hospitality house has stopped and I’ve laid awake at night pondering the many things that would be easier with money. I am a champion and cheerleader for all things home, and yet I allowed the thief to steal sleepless moments while I wished and wanted what others had, wondering why it couldn’t be me.

I don’t know your current life circumstances, but we can be honest and admit that life is easier with money. That’s a reality, yet our financial circumstances, our jobs, and our homes do not dictate our peace. The world can neither give us peace nor take it away. It’s hard. I get it, but we fight to realign our perspective because contentment found in God alone brings absolute peace.

Paul affirms in Philippians 4:12, “For I have learned to be content, whatever the circumstances may be. I know now how to live when things are difficult and I know how to live when things are prosperous.”

One way I fight to realign my perspective with God’s is through journaling. Then revisiting that record of hope provides a swift kick to my off-kilter perspective. When I felt bent out of shape about my kitchen floors, I went back to the words that marked my remembrance of God’s goodness:

Those tacky floors welcomed guests from cities and countries around the world. Those tacky floors invited children to wrestle and giggle and build forts on top of them. Those tacky floors were where thousands of feet walked during hundreds of gatherings. Those tacky floors celebrated new life and supported the hearts of mourners. Those tacky floors witnessed so much grace in actions, all while refusing to disclose the secrets they heard. Those tacky floors told stories of a life well spent.

That’s contentment. Won’t you join me with a perspective shift of your own?

This morning my husband informed me that while I took my shower, water started leaking through the chandelier fixture below. I had to chuckle and choose gratitude. I’m thankful for running water because so many in the world don’t have it.

Now it’s your turn.

What are you struggling to be content with today?
How can you reframe the way you see your lack?

 

Listen to today’s article below or wherever you stream podcasts!

Create Summer Memories That Will Last a Lifetime

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Christmas morning 2002. The Christmas story has been read from the Bible. Breakfast has been eaten. Presents have been opened. Four little pajama-clad children are handed an envelope that sends them on a scavenger hunt and ends with an invitation to the inaugural summer of Kamp Kannecomova.

Kamp Kannecomova was the brainchild of my grandparents, Mimi and Pop, to spend an extra week of fun each year with their four grandchildren. At the time we ranged in age from 5-9 years old, and we showed up at their house with our bags packed, full of excitement. “Welcome to Kamp Kannecomova!” they sang in excitement when we walked in the door. And just like that, we were off!  

Mimi and Pop had thought of everything – each camper was given a custom shirt for each day of camp. They had our names embroidered on them and featured a little emblem that represented what we would be doing that day. For us, this was the coolest thing ever, and for them, this was a way they could keep track of four crazy kids in case we wandered away from the group. 

We had mail time every morning with breakfast, where somehow, letters from our parents, full of encouragement and I love yous, magically appeared. Then our snack bags were handed out for the day, and we got our start! 

Mimi and Pop have always been the strongest pillars of faith and an example to our entire family, so it only made sense that they prioritized our faith at camp as well. We had Bible time each day where we listened to a short devotion and prayed together. We even had a camp memory verse that we all learned together, as well as a cute little camp song. 

Each day was full of pre-planned activities, and we were tasked with documenting our time well. We all received disposable cameras and a little scrapbook to keep our memories in. We spent countless hours at the dining room table with glitter glue and markers and tape making our scrapbooks something to behold. Which of course meant that Pop spent countless hours at the Walgreens photo counter getting numerous cameras developed and purchasing even more because we went through them like candy.

That first summer, we went to a Native American History Museum, to the Pink Palace and the Children’s Museum in Memphis, and even to watch a Red Birds game! Nothing that we did was crazy or expensive – we stayed within an hour’s radius of my grandparent’s house and had the week of our lives. 

At the end of the week, our parents were formally invited to the Kamp Kannecomova closing ceremony. During the ceremony, we recited the week’s memory verse, gave a rousing rendition of the camp theme song, shared our scrapbooks page by page, and even put on a little talent show! The audience was riveted. And then it was time to pack up and head back home so Mimi and Pop could sleep for the next week and a half.  

As we grew up, finding a week available in the summer became more and more difficult. Kamp turned into a quick weekend instead of a full week, and when we got to junior high and high school, it slowly stopped altogether. But what didn’t stop was the reminiscing. Every single time we are together, we regale the group with the hilarity of that time my cousin and I got stuck on a roller coaster at an amusement park or the time we got my photos developed and discovered a random stranger had taken some selfies on my camera at the Children’s Museum (don’t worry, I put them in my scrapbook for the memories).  

The eldest camper is almost thirty, we are all married, and there is even a baby on the way this year. We’re trying to talk Mimi and Pop into a Kamp Kannecomova weekend reunion so we can relive the magic of that first summer.

Creating a legacy of faith for your family that can be passed down is as easy as starting your own “summer camp”. Don’t wait for the perfect time — start today, imperfectly, and remember the reason that you’re doing it.

Here are three tips to help you kick off your own legacy summer camp:

1. Don’t overcomplicate things. 

One of our favorite days in the first year of camp was when my grandparents took us to the recycling plant to donate the aluminum cans that they’d collected for the past year. We put bags and bags of cans in the back of Pop’s truck, watched them get crushed in the giant machines, and then split the money from recycling them and go on a Dollar Tree shopping spree. We couldn’t have received more than $8 each, and it was just the coolest thing ever. I still remember what I bought with my money – it was a set of fake piercings so I could pretend I had a nose and eyebrow ring. Sorry, Mimi and Pop. 

Our scrapbooking supplies were just sketchbooks from the craft store, sticker sheets, and markers. We used our disposable cameras to document the days, and that was it. There wasn’t anything fancy about it, but we will cherish those books forever.

2. Focus on the lessons you want to pass down. 

Each year our camp was centered around a theme that bled into everything we did – the activities, the Bible study and memory verse, and the education. In our second year, along with our daily Bible time, we had etiquette lessons. You might be thinking that wrangling four elementary-aged kids, three of them boys, to teach them about etiquette is a daunting feat, and you’d be right. But you better believe that today as adults, we all remember how to set a table and what side of the street the boys are supposed to walk on, because of those lessons.

One summer, we all got matching aprons with our names on them, and the focus for the week was teaching us skills in the kitchen. It culminated in baking a cake together called a “Scripture Cake”. I’m not sure where Pop found that recipe, but it was perhaps the worst thing any of us had ever eaten. We sure got some laughs from it, though! 

3. Keep faith at the center. 

No matter how many fun activities we had planned throughout the day, Bible time was always first on the agenda. And there was no question that you would find us in a church on Sunday morning. One year, the six of us walked into a little country church, and the attendance doubled to 12 people! We once attended church in what used to be a dinner theater in Branson, and there were sinks at the end of each row. To our horror, Mimi and Pop even sometimes encouraged their little, introverted grandchildren to attend Sunday school with a classroom full of strangers, but we are all better for it! They showed us over and over where God was, and still is, on their list of priorities, and He always came out at the top. 

The years go by, and we’re all grown up, but we will never stop remembering our sweet summers at Kamp Kannecomova. Whether you’re inspired to start your own “summer camp”, or these stories gave you ideas for a different type of activity, don’t let another summer go by without instilling the legacy of faith and family in your children and grandchildren. They will always remember the sweet times and cherish the lessons you pass on to them. 

This article is by Jordan Sears and is featured in Everyday Faith Magazine.

The brand new SUMMER issue of DaySpring’s Everyday Faith Magazine just hit newsstands!

From cover to cover, you will find stories and articles like the one above that will inspire hope, prompt reflection, and encourage you for the upcoming months. There are beautiful tear-out prayers to share cards, scannable QR codes for bonus goodies, and exclusive Summer Planning Calendars tucked inside!

Everyday Faith magazine will help you know and share God’s love in fresh, true, and inspiring ways. Pick up your copy wherever magazines are sold and at DaySpring.com. This article is just one of many featured in Everyday Faith magazine, which, by the way, is perfect for reading on your lunch break, taking on vacation, or gifting to a friend.

And to help you do just that, we’re giving away FIVE sets of magazines — one for each winner and one for them to give to a friend! Leave a comment telling us to whom you’d gift a copy, or about your own Kamp Kannecomova-style memory, and we’ll draw five winners.

 

Listen to today’s article below or wherever you stream podcasts!

 

The giveaway is open to US addresses only and will close on 6/9/23 at 11:59 pm central. 

3 Ways to Handle Conflict: Fight, Flight, or Figure It Out Together

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I’m sitting at a table with two dear friends, chips and salsa in front of us. We’re talking about one of our least favorite topics — conflict. We confess it makes all three of us uncomfortable. Yet, we say, it’s sometimes necessary.

When it comes to conflict, I lean hard into “flight” rather than “fight.” What this looks like is me quickly saying, “I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault.” The fight version of this would sound like, “You should be sorry, it’s all your fault.”

But usually, neither of these is true. If we think of responses to conflict on a continuum, it would look like this…

|———————————————————–|————————————————————|
It’s All Me (flight)           It’s Us (figure it out together)           It’s All You (fight)

The responses on either end look very different but come from the same place — fear. If I say that it’s all me then maybe it will diffuse your anger and I can control the outcome. If I say it’s all you then maybe I can avoid shame.

But the brave place, the one where I’m slowly learning to live, is in the middle. It’s difficult to get to, especially when conflict is happening, but it is possible.

Here’s what I’ve discovered helps…

1) Pause and recognize you’re feeling triggered. If you lean toward “flight” then you likely feel anxiety. If you lean toward “fight” you likely feel anger.
2) Calm your brain and body. This might mean taking a few deep breaths, saying a prayer, or taking a break from the conversation.
3) Recognize your tendency to say, “It’s all me” or “It’s all you.” Instead, pause and remind yourself and the other person, “We are in this together.”
4) Choose courage over fear. Instead of avoiding conflict or blaming the other person, be vulnerable by staying emotionally open and engaged.
5) Refocus on what you both want. For example, “What we both want is to solve this problem” or “What we both want is a peaceful relationship.” Then ask, “How can we figure this out together?”
6) Start with one small step. Conflict can feel overwhelming. Ask a question like, “What’s one small step we can take together to help with this?”
7) Remember you can only do your part. In the process of conflict, we’re only responsible for our own words and actions. Sometimes we’ll try to work through conflict with someone who is unwilling or unable to do so in a healthy way. It takes two to get to a place of reconciliation.

Note: I’m talking about the everyday conflicts of life and not those with abusive people or toxic behavior. If you’re experiencing anything harmful, please talk with a trusted professional like a counselor about your specific situation and do whatever it takes to get yourself to a place of emotional and physical safety.

Someone once told me, “Healthy conflict is part of how two people become one.” This sounded crazy when I heard it, but it started to make sense as I thought about it more. At the start of a conflict, there is “You” and “Me.” But when conflict is done well, in the end, there is an “Us.” It’s no longer about my way or your way, it’s about our way because we’ve figured it out together. Only then can we move toward needed change.

Proverbs 27:17 says, “Iron sharpens iron, and one person sharpens another.” When iron sharpens iron, sparks fly. It’s not a smooth process. There are rough edges in the beginning, resistance, and the requirement of close connection. Those two pieces of iron come together with the intention, not of harming each other, but making each other better. Healthy conflict does the same.

Conflict is inevitable; letting it be destructive is optional. May we have the wisdom to know the difference between fighting with each other and for each other. May we not choose flight or fight but instead figure out things together. May our love conquer our fear.

What have you learned about how to handle conflict in a healthy way?

Conflict can be especially hard if you’re an introvert. Holley’s new book, Introvert by Design: A Guided Journal for Living with New Confidence in Who You’re Created to Be, will help you or the introverts you love to learn how to thrive in every area of your life, including your relationships.

 

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