Growing up I often went snow skiing. Living in Alaska, it’s pretty much on the agenda over the weekends in the winter. I loved the exhilaration of the ski lift swinging around and sweeping me off my feet. The excitement of the feat I was about to take as I was carried up the mountain and looked out at the trail I would take was always exciting and calming. As people slid off the chair and rounded the corner, there was always this stop and get situated moment. Small groups would talk about what direction they’d go, get their gloves and poles set, and they’d take off. Once I was ready, I’d start off slow and steady, eventually building up steam, but as I was going down, sometimes the speed would make me afraid so about midway through, or at a rough spot, I’d run off into a snowbank to get my bearings and, once things cleared out, start again. As skiers approach the bottom of the mountain, there is this straight away that gives a perfect view of the valley and that warm inviting ski lodge where, of course, I was about to order a hot chocolate with a mountain of whipped cream on top and sip it in front of a roaring fire. At that point, it would be my moment to take the slope at full speed — first, it wasn’t as steep as higher up, and second I could see the bottom, I knew when I’d have to start to slow things to come to my complete stop. I could see it all in plain view, and while it was visible, it still created some nerves, I got shaky, I knew I had to commit to every move in order to not break a leg or run someone over.

Looking at my life, I have seasons in my work and home life that rise and fall much like a full ride on a ski trail and right now, in this season I’m on the slope trailing down into the valley after the peak of the season has passed and I feel the end so close.

I sat down at my desk and just started staring off into space. Now what? I have things to do, that’s not the issue. I looked down and my eyes landed on a note I had written weeks ago on my calendar. It said

God, create a clean heart for me and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Psalm 51:10.

The simplicity of the verse was appealing. The straightforwardness was refreshing. The emotion the Psalmist conveys in that heartfelt request resonated with me and found myself nodding along with the hurried scrawl on my paper.

You see, when I start the process of heading down that final hill after the frenzy there’s always this “now what?” thought that starts running through my head. Couple that with the little daily stressors and fears you have to beat away with a stick, along with the to-do list, and it feels almost like my priorities have gone askew. Even though this is a less challenging part of the trail, I still have loose ends, I still feel like I’ve overextended myself because I’ve said yes to things at the last minute, or I have responsibilities that can’t be missed, and time is coming rapidly to an end eventually and deadlines are called deadlines for a reason.

So I opened Webster’s Dictionary and looked up some words in this verse/prayer I had uttered in my mind. And here is what I’ve come up with:

God, bring into existence a heart for me that is free from dirt, marks, stains, and pollutants and is pure inside and out. And now that this interruption has passed, resume and reestablish a resolutely firm and unwavering seat of emotions and character within me.

As I read the definitions of each word I realize how deeply important this request is. While simple to read, the request is complex. To completely bring a whole new heart into existence free from the remnants of hurt, tragedy, selfishness, anger, jealousy, guilt, grief, and sin is quite the undertaking. The seasons we go through leave battle scars. Scars that really remind us who we were and what we have done. Replacing our hearts with something new allows us the freedom to live without looking back at the errors we’ve made and step forward into God’s calling and point people to Him with our words and actions.

When I read the definition of renew, it means reestablishing something after a brief interruption. Sometimes those interruptions are when we have to stop just before that last downhill slide, when we’ve sat at the top of the hill distracted by the social scene, when we just look in the wrong direction for a split second and need a way to get back on the trail, when we’ve turned away from God and his principles, when we’ve just done the bare minimum of going through the motions but the relationship isn’t there. Or maybe we’ve never begun our journey with Him and made Him Lord over our lives. These are interruptions. The redeeming part of the request is this, to renew doesn’t mean blast someone for why they let the membership lapse, it involves reestablishing the relationship. God has to help us re-establish relationship with Him. We can’t do any of this on our own. We need to put in the simple request for help. He must be involved to submit all the forms that we’ve filled out to get us reconnected with Him.

This relationship speaks to our spirit, the seat of emotions and character within us. I may have not had a super long interruption. Today it was looking at social media or messages before reading my scriptures and knowing I was distracted. But it can make my character or my emotions shaky if I don’t establish my connection with God first before managing the steep parts of my day. And as I look at the short run I have left on this trail in this season of my life, I need my relationship with Him to be solid, steadfast, resolutely firm and unwavering, so when opposition or the emotions that so easily crop up in any situation appear, I automatically respond with character and emotions that reflect the clean heart within me and its creator.

Are you worried about the next thing? Now what? Put in the simple request to God to create this new unblemished heart and renew your steadfast, resolutely firm, and unwavering seat of emotions and character. Just ask Him. His mercies are new every morning, and likewise, the simple request and the heart behind it must be renewed daily seeking His hand at creating something out of you that you can’t do on your own.

A Simple Request was originally published in Refreshing Faith on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

in·tim·i·date: frighten or overawe (someone), especially in order to make them do what one wants

Being intimidated seems to be a constant site where I battle myself on the regular. When I’m at peace and all seems right in my world, I look at this fact and ask, “Why?” It seems so pointless to let outsiders and circumstances influence how I feel. I then have to remind myself, I’m not unique. I’m human. We all experience moments of intimidation… even those who are so self-assured, maybe they arrived at that perspective because they faced intimidation at one point or another.

Sometimes intimidation is intentional. People see you doing something good, see you taking away a resource or a person they have been able to abuse and they get angry. The book of Nehemiah in the Bible is a story about an Israelite who worked for the king of the empire. He was granted the opportunity to go back to Jerusalem and rebuild the wall that had been destroyed. He knew his people were constantly under attack, abused, used, and ransacked. Their safety was non-existent. As I read the story I realized how this one act of making a city better, improving safety led to much anger outside of their community. The lack of security gave opportunities for other cities to have power over the people of Jerusalem.

Isn’t it the same way for us? When we don’t have boundaries, we are vulnerable to others’ control. They can take up all our time, energy, and resources. They can use us as an alternative target when the person or situation they are really upset with is impenetrable to their anger. They can step on us to get higher up in their world or feel better about themselves. They use tactics to invoke fear and overawe so we hide feeling scared or ashamed or just not good enough.

Nehemiah went home to Jerusalem to build a wall and he was berated by intimidation tactics. The governors of other provinces were seeing this city which they used to boost their own pride, use for their own gain, and saw as weak and non-threatening start to flourish, become bold, and build boundaries that were stronger than the pile of rubble that used to surround them.

When you start to build boundaries with people who try to control or abuse you, it’s painful for all involved. It creates anger because the status quo is changing for the abuser. It creates efforts in the abused to build up protection for themselves. All of this is out of character and is really hard to experience. When we grow it’s painful (eh hem… growing pains) but it’s necessary to become the whole person we are intended to be. If we allow others to use intimidation to stunt our growth it’s just as painful. So why don’t we just lean forward into the pain that brings positive results rather than sit in the pain we’ve always known?

I think identity has a lot to do with this. Who we are matters. If we don’t know who we are and whose we are, then its harder to be bold in the face of intimidators. Nehemiah knew this but it doesn’t mean it was always easy. In Nehemiah 6:9 he acknowledges that “They were all trying to intimidate us…” The other governors were spreading rumors and creating a false narrative that was meant to make them stop doing the good work they needed to do. Here I’d like to also say that the enemy used those people to try and stop God’s ultimate plan of restoring a nation. Nehemiah turned to the only source of help, vs.9: “But now, my God, strengthen my hands.” This small prayer didn’t make the intimidation tactics stop, they continued. But this reminder in scripture shows us that regardless of how confident you are in a calling, you still can’t be self-reliant. Constantly turning to God makes it possible to have strength and endurance through the struggle.

The wall was completed in 52 days. That was record time and encouraged and strengthened the people it was meant to protect. Building a boundary takes time. 52 days may be fast for a wall to be built, but it can seem like forever when we are in the middle of it. Pressing on and leaning into the good work allows us to come out on the other side proud of the growing pains and eventually seeing and appreciating the layer of protection we’ve created with God alongside us.

Having God in your life doesn’t mean you won’t have people or things that intimidate you. It means you have someone there to help you rise above it and not let it keep you from achieving the calling you’ve been given.

I won’t say don’t be intimidated. That’s impossible. However, we can have an automatic response to the intimidation, looking heavenward reaching out our hands and saying, “God strengthen me.”

INTIMIDATION was originally published in Refreshing Faith on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

No one prepares you for the feeling of leaving your child behind.

My week-long stay in the hospital hotel room was over. We had rolled the standard grey cart to the door and loaded all of our things on it: suitcases, diaper bag, pillows, everything we brought but never used. We did what every new parent does on the day they head home, except we didn’t have a baby with us. No one prepares you. No one should have to.

Because we live an hour from the hospital, it was a long quiet ride home. I was like a washing machine of emotion. Swish left, sadness. Swish Right, put on the brave face. Swish left, adrenaline pounding. Swish Right, fear. Swish left, what am I doing? Swish right, what is happening? This has to be a dream. Swish left, this isn’t right. Swish right, definitely isn’t right. It was a back and forth churning for an hour. I didn’t know how to respond to the circumstance and by the time I reached home I had hit spin cycle. I was a washing machine, still and stoic, emotionless on the outside and a tornado of feelings on the inside wringing all of me out.

Brett didn’t want to leave me alone. “You going to be alright?” he asked. “Want me to take you to eat something?” I tearily shook my head and said something about having to head to town and check our post office box. “I don’t want you to just sit here and cry…. why don’t you call someone and ask them to lunch?” I reassured him I would be fine and gathered myself to head downtown as he drove back to work.

I made sure to go to the post office — since I said I was going I felt like I needed to. I had basically showered and thrown on some jeans and a sweatshirt — my former Alaskan uniform that I live to wear on the few days it is cold in the south — and crossed my fingers I wouldn’t run into anyone so I could arrive safely back home to spend my time with Netflix and some form of sugar and sadness.

There she was walking out of the post office as I got out of the car. A friend of mine walking towards me between the parked cars. “Are you just getting home?” she approached me and wrapped me in a hug. I exploded into tears. It was the end of my spin cycle — when all the turbulence subsides and a long, loud sigh is let out from the cold, hard, metal box. “A friend and I are going to lunch, just us two, why don’t you meet us over there in a few?” Before I knew it, I was nodding and driving myself to the local bakery for lunch.

No one tells you how you will feel. No one knows exactly what to say or do including you. We sat around the table and they asked me about the details of our hospital stay, we chatted about our older kids, about things happening in town. It wasn’t blissful, it wasn’t joyful, it was, however, restful. Just being allowed to be who I was in that moment, not expected to be cheerful or put on a brave face, was freeing. They were meeting my needs in that moment.

There’s a story in Acts 24 that details Paul going through a trial. In the midst of his trial, and the deciding of his fate he was imprisoned. Yet, Felix, the governor, had some compassion and “He ordered the centurion to keep Paul under guard but to give him some freedom and permit his friends to take care of his needs (v. 23).” While Paul couldn’t see the end, or the way out of the waiting for his official verdict, he was given reprieve. His friends didn’t change his circumstances, they were just allowed to be there for him, providing for his needs. In the same way this little lunch in the back of a bakery opened and softened my heart a little. I felt comforted and was given a break from the sad and despairing feelings that had surrounded me through the hours of my day traveling the halls of the hospital, rarely leaving.

Jesus didn’t travel alone, He shared His time with disciples. Even in the garden of Gethsemane, in the darkest moment of His life leading up to His death, He asked three of the disciples to sit with Him in the moment He would spend praying and pleading with God to take the future chaos out of His story.

I knew I was in for a trial that would drag on. I knew my normal everyday routine was replaced with a new unexpected chaos. I knew the day my storm would be calmed to a whisper (Ps. 107:29) was a long way off, but as I arrived to my place of waiting, I was met with kindness and friends who knew that just being present with me was a need they could fill. We aren’t meant to do life alone. Connection and relationship are vital to surviving the chaos that presents itself. Those connections in turn provide a moment of rest and freedom as we wait for the verdict in our trial.

Freedom in Friendship was originally published in Refreshing Faith on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

You know that person? You know the one, the one who blurts out their thoughts without pause for social situation consideration? (Often it’s me…) The person who comes up mid conversation and wants to get the run down of that whole — sometimes private — conversation. The person who stares while eavesdropping. Yeah, you know the one. Well that’s what being in an open NICU is like.

First you need to know about my part of this awkward relationship: The week following Ella’s birth I stayed in the hospital in a small hotel-like room with a tiny tube TV and a connecting door to a VIP patient room that wasn’t sound proof. (By not sound proof, I mean I couldn’t rest because there was a loud talker on a phone or, worse, a man moaning so much I thought I was listening to a haunted choir. It was the worst sound to try to sleep through ever. Don’t think of me as insensitive… I figured out later after noticing the nurses refused to come check on him — even at 3 am — and hearing a doctor yell about more pain meds killing him, I understood we had a person working extremely hard for pharmaceutical refreshments. But I digress.) We would walk what seemed like a half mile to the other side of the hospital every three hours to try to feed Ella. My legs and eventually feet swelled beyond recognition… looking like dimpled tree trunks reducing me to to limited walking and eventually I had to be pushed in a wheelchair to reach my baby. I pumped milk constantly and stocked it in the tiny fridge in our room, labeling it with labels provided and would load them into a cooler bag for delivery to the nurses, all while recovering from labor and delivery. Once we arrived at the NICU, we’d buzz the door, put on a hospital gown, and then begin the two minute scrub process to avoid spreading germs to her or any of the other babies in the room.

So you can see, I was already threadbare once I reached my daughter and then I had to start the painful process of attempting to feed her which typically ended in feeding her by pushing milk through the tube running up her nose and down into her stomach. We’d watch the clock and push one milliliter every thirty seconds. If she refused to eat any of her 60 mls (which was often the case in that week) we had to push… it took a painful thirty minutes to get a whole feeding (2 ounces) down. As a type A, people pleasing, planning, and semi-OCD personality, I personally felt like a failure if she didn’t achieve progress. I understood that it wouldn’t be all at once, but failure to progress in numbers made me feel like a failure.

On the flip side of this we weren’t surrounded by the comforts of home. We heard regular beeping and alarms. We heard nurses chatting about weekend plans or sometimes the current drama of the day with a patient, doctor, or fellow nurse. We listened to a doctor with a thick accent take over our case with a new plan of treatment. We had hard plastic chairs, no privacy, and an open hallway or column to border our assigned space. Nothing about it felt familiar, peaceful, or comforting. It all felt awkward.

No one tells you to be ready in case you need to advocate for your child. When your skin is so dry, cracked, and burning from excessive washing of your arms and hands, your child is gasping for air and fighting to breathe, she’s failing to achieve any progress — causing never-ending frustrations and feelings of inadequacy as a parent, a doctor is telling you he wants to do something different or pull up a new machine, or a nurse is condescending to you about how you have no idea what you are talking about when it comes to bottles or feeding or results — in these moments you don’t typically feel energized to go to bat for the gut feeling you have about your child’s care. Nope, you weep, all while feeling like you are naked on stage in front of your high school.

At one point we had been relocated to a quarantine room in the NICU with 3 other babies because of some maintenance. I was in the corner of a 10'x10' room hearing something from the doctor I didn’t want to hear about a plan of treatment, all while another mom rocked her baby to sleep 1 foot from me, another baby cried in the corner as two nurses hurriedly worked to find the medicine they needed for her, and a family about to go home went back and forth about feeding the baby they were about to take home and getting themselves situated. I felt trapped with a nurse and then a doctor behind me speaking medical jargon to the back of my head and basically telling me we’d hit a set back. I wanted to scream. I wanted to yell at everyone in the room but I was frozen. I couldn’t turn around because there was nowhere to look that another human being wasn’t — other than the tiny corner where my baby sat struggling to breathe in a plastic box. I wasn’t a very good advocate in that moment. I wasn’t happy with the plan, I wasn’t understanding it either. I didn’t know why my baby couldn’t just do what her brother did when he was her age. I didn’t understand and it was really awkward. I wept silently as the doctor abruptly moved on to another patient and I saw a box of tissues come around my shoulder from the nurse. Awkward.

I go back to the first day and that line I typed — “Jesus and His Plans and His Purpose would become greater than anything I could have planned.” (Blindsided) — the plan and purpose of He who created my baby was greater than any plan I could make. As I look into the first week with Ella, I see that the same goes for feeling like a failure. “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” Psalm 73:26

He is greater.

I had no strength. I had no fullness. I had nothing. I was weak. I felt helpless and like a complete failure. I was in darkness and lost. I was numb to the circumstance yet feeling every prick of anger, sadness, fear, and despair. I was incapable of doing anything but walk down those sterile halls and face another failure every three hours. There is no other way to share this feeling. I can’t sugarcoat my experience because there is no sugary sparkle to this experience in the flesh.

Yet, when I look back I know that God was walking step by step with us down that half mile trip in the halls to see my girl. He sent us friends and even new acquaintances that would come alongside us and simply redirect our focus in the coming days. They pointed us to look to the one who is the strength of our heart and became the only portion we could feel satisfied in. They encouraged us to rejoice in the small things. They were sounding boards for the practical questions. They allowed us to understand that we are supposed to be weak, for in this weakness God’s strength is not only magnified, it is glorified. God reminded Paul of this very concept. He was being tormented and pleaded with God to take away the thorn tormenting him. “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” 2 Corinthians 12:9–11 I can’t say for sure what Paul’s torment was like but I know that I was being tormented in small ways in those days.

He is enough.

I normally am a go-to person when a crisis hits. I am the one who flips that mental switch into a new mode when it is time to break bad news, jump to action, seek help. In this week of my life, there was a hint of that woman there… but she was grasping for a hold, she was feeling the burnoff of the anxiety rather than the energy boost, she was unclear of the direction or action needed. Weakness was ever present indeed and I begged for the torment to stop when I could even think through the fog in my head. His power, however, was perfect in those moments. I hadn’t reached the point where I would delight in my weakness or hardship, but I saw a new woman who was just as powerful in that weakness and hardship. She would advocate while weeping. She would push through fatigue and pain and walk the half mile (and eventually drive the one hour) one way to do the work she had been called to do. She would find her voice even if it would crack. She was perfectly weak so He was able to do mighty things for her and in her.

He is able.

While I’ve always prided myself on being that go-to crisis manager, I like the new woman I was becoming in those early days — aware of my weakness and shortcomings, enduring my feelings of failure, and awakening to the power of Jesus working things out for me as I pressed on one step at a time. I may have experienced failure in the flesh, my circumstances were awkward and difficult, but it was all making the way for Jesus to become my strength and my portion. When I am weak only then will I experience true strength.

Socially Awkward was originally published in Refreshing Faith on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I’d played it all out. I had an outfit for every occasion. I had a plan for every scenario. I had an idea of what I would do when it was over. I spent so much time planning, seeing things happen in my head. I say to people, “ I’m a planner.” So when I found out I was pregnant with a little girl I was thinking, “this couldn’t have been planned more perfectly!” I have a son, soon to turn 5 after I would deliver this sweet baby girl. One of each gender. My family would be that typical 4 person family, one boy, one girl, happily ever after.

So as I packed up for my brief stay at the women’s pavilion, I planned outfits — hers and mine, I planned her pictures, I planned for my favorite treat post delivery. I planned.

Labor went perfect. Delivery went perfect. I was laughing as the doctor said something, my baby quietly crying as they cleaned her off for my first perfectly planned picture. My moments alone with her and my husband. Grateful, thankful, excited about the perfect start to her life with us. Couldn’t have been planned better.That’s where it all came crashing in. Everyone had left except our little threesome and two nurses finishing up. “Did you see this cleft palate?” the nurse called across the room to another nurse. Her lips looked perfect, what cleft was she talking about? It was like my ears were in an airplane. Air became thin. I instantly felt something crushing my chest. Tears immediately ran down my face.This was the moment. It felt disorganized, imperfect, unsettling, I had no clarity on my next steps. I was blurred and lost. I couldn’t see a scenario where this could be perfect. I couldn’t imagine or plan for my next steps. I had no idea how to respond or react. It was like being trapped in a glass box — alone, limited oxygen, and a feeling of despair because I can see out but I can’t see the way out.

My life changed that day. My initial reaction was to feel completely stupid. I felt like I had wasted so much time planning. I planned. In Job 17:11, Job summed up that moment for me in his own words: “My days have passed, my plans are shattered.” How had I found myself in that predicament? I hadn’t planned for this. My plans had completely shattered.

As I went through this first moment of my daughter’s life I forgot that Jesus was in it. I forgot that He plans too. Job continues, in verse 12, “… in the face of the darkness light is near.”

Proverbs reminds me, planning is good, as long as the commitment is focused on Jesus, as long as I understand the purpose isn’t mine, it’s His.
“Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and He will establish your plans.”
“Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.”

When I sat there blindsided by the news that was incomprehensible, I was challenged with my perspective on planning. Planning is good. It’s ok to make plans — as long as I know that His plan prevails. He reminds us in Jeremiah, “I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord…” While I had no idea or understanding of what was happening, Jesus did. While I had no concept of how to take a step in this new reality, Jesus knew how to direct me. While I sat there suffocating, Jesus was my Breath. For “it is the spirit in a person, the breath of the Almighty, that gives them understanding.”

I planned.

My future was forever changed and I didn’t realize it at the time, but Jesus was in the midst of it all. While the days ahead and the experiences I faced weren’t going to be pleasant or easy, Jesus and His Plans and His Purpose would become greater than anything I could have planned.

Blindsided was originally published in Refreshing Faith on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

It’s quiet in my house. Everything seems normal to anyone from the outside looking in. My 5 month old baby girl is tucked in bed, my 5 year old son is laying contorted on his bed with mouth agape and hair everywhere, my husband, Brett, is soundly sleeping. Being comfortable with normalcy is difficult for me these days. Life is moving on like it was supposed to and I’m not settled in it. I’m looking back on worse days with longing…

Worse Days

In February I gave birth to my daughter and within an hour of her birth I was sitting in a hospital bed with tears rolling down my face, stunned, and empty handed. My daughter couldn’t breathe or eat. She was born with a cleft palate and Pierre Robins Sequence — both we were not aware of or prepared for. I had just been told that the doctor was moving her to Neonatal ICU.

Suddenly I felt completely childish, selfish, materialistic, vain, petty, confused, lost, and dark — In the days leading up to delivery I worried about what shirt my son would wear when he met his sister, what outfits I would dress her in, how I wanted to send her to the nursery at night, how I wanted visiting hours to look, and how I wanted to look in the barrage of selfies and pictures — I was embarrassed to myself for my internal thoughts of all these meaningless details.

I had constant texts and messages in the days that followed. Some were long Bible studies and lengthy encouragement, but I couldn’t even physically read or mentally concentrate on anything. I spent my days recovering with a short walk every 3 hours to the NICU, scrubbing my hands and arms for 2 minutes, and awkwardly taking a seat next to a plastic box holding my sleeping baby trying to hold back tears fueled by hormones, shock, grief, disbelief, and exhaustion. When I was discharged I was able to stay in the hospital for a full week in a hotel room they had on site. My walk became longer, my legs swelled to a point beyond belief that became painful, and my down time between those walks was filled with pumping milk, sleeping, and finding a way to feed myself.

Life in the NICU was the most unique social experience I’ve ever had. Nurses chatted about life, we spoke daily with doctors about “progress” and “goals” (apparently those words are not even realistic in the NICU), I overheard nurses making fun of a parent for some of their daily routines, I wept to myself, I wept in a corner, I wept with parents behind me excitedly discussing their discharge in an hour, I sobbed with two nurses sitting in front of me while I clutched my baby, I argued, I pleaded, I complained, I begged, I demanded, I requested — I advocated. Combine this whole experience with an hour drive daily to that very place that was unenjoyable and joyful all at the same time and it created a weird existence for me.

In the midst of all the awkward existence and exhaustion, I had to decide how I would cope. The only normal thing I could do was take and share pictures of my girl. Brett had a friend who had recommended we read through the Psalms daily. Brett began posting pictures with a verse from the reading that day. I found that joining him in this practice was healing. So I began to bring clothes, dress my girl up in bows, and got to snapping pics. I would be moved by something I read in the Psalm for that day and it would be joyful, somber, mournful, or praising but it would also be fitting to how I felt, what I was facing, and I decided to start sharing just like Brett.

I began living what I call “in the daily.” My life before February included lots of planning far in advance. I’d map out my whole year if you gave me certainties of what exactly would happen all year. After February 15th I only focused on my next 24 hours. I only knew the plan for that next day and was only concerned about my children and their needs. Nothing and no one else came into my scope of work. My day consisted of a drive, a scripture reading, time spent feeding my daughter, and one on one time with my son.

I have so many different stories about what I went through and little experiences where God showed up to come alongside us and hold us up or remind us that this too shall pass. The one thing I look back on is my relationship with God and I realize how close I became to Him. He drew me in and sustained me when I had nothing. He used our brokenness for His glory, pointing many to Himself. He changed me. I no longer cared about personal dramas that played out, I no longer allowed time to be focused on petty things, I no longer worried about small details that would work themselves out outside of the hospital walls.

Better Days

We have now been home more days than we were in the hospital and I almost don’t know how to exist. I look back on the days where I was solely focused on my daughter’s health and God’s love and remember fondly how close I felt to Him. I long for these days of suffering. I long to be close to God without the distractions of daily details. I long for when it took no effort to have my eyes focused only on Him. I long for the worse days where I was weak and He was strong.

But He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is perfected in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly in my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest on me. 10That is why, for the sake of Christ, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak,then I am strong. 2 Corinthians 12:9–10

Now I want you to know, brothers, that my circumstances have actually served to advance the gospel. Philippians 1:12

I know that through your prayers and the provision of the Spirit of Jesus Christ, my distress will turn out for my deliverance. Philippians 1:19

You see, Paul was clear about suffering and it’s purpose in our lives. It is to allow God’s work to occur and for us to become more clear that He is the manager of our lives. He reminds us that strength comes from our moments of weakness. God wants us to want Him and when we are at that point where we completely rely on Him, miracles happen. Oh how I long for the worse days when this came so easy.

Longing For Worse Days was originally published in Refreshing Faith on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I listened as my mother shared about a week that was less than ideal. Conflict, argument, condescension, subtext, it was all just dramatic and I was overwhelmed for her. What I found profound was that she used the drama to try to figure out something that might be her fault in the situation. In a world where fingers are pointed and anger is directed with a flick of a keystroke, without concern of consequence, she actually was wondering, “Am I the problem here? Should I step away from this situation?” While this would normally be refreshing, I thought to myself about the twisted subtext we get from the serpent in Genesis, “surely you will not die” he says to Eve, twisting the scenario a quarter turn to get her mind thinking, “maybe I’m not approaching this right, maybe I misheard God, maybe there’s more beyond just this little paradise, maybe there’s a better way than God’s way.”

Sometimes when we are doing good things, attending church, sharing insight and whisperings from the Holy Spirit, loving on others in Christ’s name, Satan takes that moment to start to change the environment. We encounter combative people, we are discouraged to plan an event because the day has too many community conflicts, we get asked to pander when addressing a topic, we feel burdened and heavy and the weight is easier dumped to the side than carried through what was supposed to be God’s work and our call to action for His glory.

Mom shared with me a beautiful letter she wrote to a Bible Study leader many years ago. She wrote:

“I was… looking out the window at the big birch tree beside the church. All the leaves had long since fallen. That’s why my attention was aroused when I noticed one little leaf still hanging on the tree. It was battered and torn by the wind, but it showed no sign of letting go. I told the Lord, ‘you know, the way that little leaf looks is exactly how I feel. Battered and blown by the winds of adversity but still hanging on to you.’”

Honestly I know the feeling. Lately I am easily distracted by the environmental changes around me. The call becomes blurred, the intent becomes unclear, the purpose becomes worthless, the circumstances become regrettable. The environment change causes me to fall into that mindset that Eve may have had, ‘What else is out there after I eat or don’t eat this fruit? Could I be misunderstanding God completely in this moment with this one instruction?’

But Scripture shows me how this little leaf is definitely who I am trying to be. Hanging on to something that isn’t fitting for my season of life, being someone that I’m not. Psalm 1:3 speaks about the righteous man who walks differently from the wicked and delights in the law of the Lord. It says, “He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers.” It is a reminder that life is seasonal and each season requires different fruit or vegetation to be yielded. And as I read this verse, I’ve come to realize I’m not the leaf at all, I’m the tree.

Dr. Deanna Conners writes in a blog for earthsky.com that the leaves of deciduous trees are damaged by harsh, cold temperatures. She goes on to share that shedding leaves allows a tree to conserve both water and energy and the tree itself actively cuts off its own leaves in preparation for the winter through a process called abscission (sharing the same latin root word that is used in the word scissors). During this process of removing its leaves, a tree will break down and absorb the chlorophyll from the leaves. Chlorophyll is what provides the vibrant green color to the leaves and is a valuable source of nutrients. Once the leaves are cut off, cells create a protective covering where the cutting has occurred. Once Spring arrives, the benefit of bare branches is to aid in the pollination process. Without leaves in the way, the pollen from the trees can travel much faster and cover a further distance allowing the seed to reach more trees in the process.

While the leaf is being battered and beaten by the elements, it is missing out on the point of its purpose. We must embrace our season and see that cutting off all the old allows time for healing, conserving energy, filling with living water and, in our barest, most vulnerable moments, we reach more people with the seed of our lives. While the fruit we bear is important, it is still seasonal, yielded for specific time and purpose. We gain from that yield and move forward. To look back or cling to a past season in our lives prevents us from being energized from that yield and could open us up to attack from the elements of our environment. If the little leaf never detaches, the cells cannot protect the branch of the tree opening it up to harm.

I need to let go of past seasons. I need to look onward to the next season. While it may become winter, that doesn’t mean it is a miserable moment in life. Look at the tree, Winter is a time for rest, growth, rejuvenation and reaching many from a great distance without all those leaves to get in the way.

Letting my environment be the catalyst for despair is the opposite of how God intended life to be. The environment change we experience, while it can be jarring, can allow us to find the way to adjust and adapt and move into the new season God is preparing for us. Does that mean we have to step back from things? Yes, possibly. Does that mean new things will be added? Yes, possibly. We must not allow the serpents whispers and ultimately our doubt of God’s calling and provision to creep in. It is best to be like the blessed man in Psalms, delighting in the Law of the Lord and meditating on it day and night.

Weathered was originally published in Refreshing Faith on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

“What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don’t they come from your desires that battle within you?” James 4:1

Wow, my life is fabulous. Look at these pictures, these smiles and happiness, the sweet cuddly pictures of a sick baby and his puppy, the bright cheerfulness of a Christmas tree and my little elf in front. Wait, what’s this in my timeline? They had a birthday party and didn’t invite me? Wow, what is she wearing? Gosh I wish I looked that good in a dress. What is she posting here? She needs some encouragement if you see her today? What could be wrong? Wow I’m glad my life is totally fine, but is it? Look at her amazing new house! Goodness, my house could use a spruce up. I had better share my picture of my trip with my son to the zoo right now, it’s been a while since I posted something. I am sure my kid is the epitome of cuteness. Wait, what is this comment? How rude. Wow, I feel hot, I feel sick, I’m angry, I need to walk away. Oh, look! They did make it to Disney! What a cool Instagram photo. Let me refresh my timeline one more time…

Facebook is infectious, and not in a good way. It is the ultimate worldly tool to pull out the quarrels and fighting among us. People who don’t even know you feel at ease to attack when your ideas or thoughts expressed don’t match theirs. Pictures or reading between the literal lines of a post cause us to build drama within ourselves and among each other.

“You adulterous people, don’t you know that friendship with the world means enmity against God? Therefore, anyone who chooses to be a friend of the world becomes an enemy of God.” James 4:4

Facebook is the ultimate Friend. Friendship with the world takes on a more innocent appearance through the vehicle of Facebook. Ironic that we pursue friends, likes, and positive comments, when each one can deteriorate our true relationship with Jesus. When the obsessive, addictive, and controlling ‘friend’ of Facebook finally hurts you deeply, you realize the one relationship that matters has suffered. Enmity’s definition is: the state or feeling of being actively opposed or hostile to someone or something. So when friendship with our world takes precedence over our priorities, we become, according to James, opposed or hostile towards Jesus. The enemy’s plan has worked to turn us God and replace Him with meaningless things.

“Do you think Scripture says without reason that He jealously longs for the spirit He has caused to dwell in us? But He gives us more grace. That is why Scripture says: God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble.” James 4:5–6

Why are we surprised that the one thing that fills the holes in our day is undesirable to God when it isn’t Him? Our God is a jealous God. He longs to be connected fully to us, His creation. When something worldly interrupts that connection, there are negative outcomes. Can we honestly say that Facebook fulfills needs in our lives? If yes, what are those needs? The need to be liked? The need for attention? The need to feel important or special? Don’t these needs indicate a measure of pride within ourselves? As James testifies, “God opposes the proud” and the feeling of opposition from our Lord can’t leave us feeling fully satisfied. All these needs are filled or rendered meaningless when we seek to saturate our day with the pursuit of the presence of God. We will experience His grace, unmerited favor, when we humble ourselves, choose to remove our pride, and quit allowing a worldly friend to replace Him as Lord of our lives.

“Brothers and sisters, do not slander one another. … As it is, you boast in your arrogant schemes. All such boasting is evil.” James 4:11,16

How are we using our worldly friend? Are we uplifting to one another, are we encouraging, are we kind? Or, do we use it to slander others, curse and belittle them, condescend in a way to elevate ourselves? Are we posting the perfect pictures to make ourselves look amazing according to worldly standards and boasting of our many good fortunes, yet silent when things are not so perfect?

“Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and He will come near to you. …. Humble yourselves before the Lord, and He will lift you up.” James 4: 7–8, 10

Submission has two definitions: “the action of presenting a proposal, application, or other document for consideration or judgment” or “the action or fact of accepting or yielding to a superior force or to the will or authority of another person.”

When we submit to Facebook, we present our lives for consideration or judgement. We are opening ourselves up for worldly judgement based on superficial meaningless criteria measured against worldly and unrealistic standards. When we submit to God, we are yielding to His authority. We accept that he is a superior force in our lives and above all His favor and approval are all we need.

“If anyone, then, knows the good they ought to do and doesn’t do it, it is sin for them.” James 4:17

Acknowledging the truth about what our relationship with social media is, in general, is important for our relationship with Jesus. Knowing if our submission is to Facebook for approval, judgement, and boasting, or if our submission is to Jesus and His authority over our lives is the most important clarification we must make in determining our true friendship. Are we Facebook friends with the World or are we in deep relationship with Jesus?

“If we know the good we ought to do, we must do it.” This may mean taking a hiatus from Facebook, it may mean limiting ourselves to pictures only for the grandparents to see, it might look like only using it to message friends you don’t have emails for. Defining how you will use Facebook for entertainment in order to avoid replacing Jesus as your one true friend is the first step to finding out the good we must do and then we must take action and do it.

Let us, as believers, take action to prevent Facebook and other social media outlets from becoming our friendship with the world and create a stronghold for the enemy. When we accomplish the removal of this stronghold, we will then experience the freedom from worldly friendship and peace through a meaningful relationship with Jesus.

Friends With the World was originally published in Refreshing Faith on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I had a bad day. I felt like Alexander… he had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day once. When you read through his day, Alexander just had normal frustrating stuff happen to him. He was so upset about his day that he planned, as an 8 year old, to move to Australia. He was ready to run away to a new country leaving behind his family and friends. He didn’t have major life changing things happen to him that day. He woke up with gum in his hair, his mom forgot his dessert, his brothers got shoes they wanted but he got stuck with ugly white ones, He didn’t get to wear the pajamas he wanted, the cat wouldn’t sleep with him — all the really tragic things that happen to kids.

I have had many bad days like Alexander’s day. When you live for over 30 years there’s bound to be a few of them. Today’s world gives us ways to search out friends for encouragement that we didn’t have before. Facebook, Twitter, email, text messages, they all give us instant connection to people and allow us our “vent sessions” or our chance to seek out a kind word.

I normally don’t buy in to posting bad days or frustrations online, but this day was bad. My husband’s job had kept us apart for far too long, my son was entering the tortuous twos — that, my friends is the next level beyond the terrible twos — I was boxing up for a move with a two year old helping me simultaneously unpack, it was just the perfect storm and something happened that day that had me seeking out help, comfort, kindness, compassion, encouragement. I foolishly didn’t know where to turn. So, there I was with a Facebook status just having a moment, detail free, but clearly sharing that in the midst of my stormy seas my lifesaver ring had deflated. Getting things off your chest is nice, you feel free to move on and just even courageous to confront the day ahead by getting it out there.

Later, I was on my computer, all had settled, my seas had calmed, I was comfortable and resting and then I saw a response to my post. “It could be worse” it said, and beneath it a picture of a snowy graveyard, a military funeral and a lone soldier saying goodbye to someone he loved.

Stunned silence, hurt, and confusion swirled in my mind. Am I supposed to be upset that it could be snowing? Or was is that I could be in the military or married to military? Or what about having to attend a funeral? Or are they saying I could be dead so it could be worse? I immediately deleted my post. The negative connotations, no matter how it was meant to be delivered, were too much for me to be comfortable with leaving it on my page.

I’ve shared this story with some friends lately and it has allowed me to think through my response to that post from years ago:

“Cast all your cares upon Him for He cares for you.” 1 Peter 5:17

This is my response. God doesn’t distinguish between the levels of hurt and define those that are considered valid. Whether I’ve lost a loved one or lost my keys, God cares for me. He desires that I lean on Him. He doesn’t promise that I will have smooth sailing or no pain through the rest of my day or my life, but He does care for me, He provides for me and is my strength when I am weak when I cast my cares on Him.

Even in the mundane of daily life I can talk to God about my feelings good or bad. I’ve had tough conversations with friends, where, going into it, I knew would be a confrontation. Moments before, I sought the Lord’s guidance through the situation. I prayed about how I couldn’t do this alone, how I needed Him desparately to intervene. That doesn’t mean the confrontation doesn’t happen, it means that He helped me through it. He provided peace, clear mind, and guidance with each word. I didn’t leave the meeting second guessing my words or replaying the things I heard over and over in my head. I felt at peace and, honestly, I saw a different person in front of me from who I expected.

No more online “vent sessions” or complaining.

I did it all wrong that day.

I should have turned to the only one that truly cares.

It could always be worse, but every hurt is significant to God. He desires to take on the burden for us because he cares. Even if it’s small we must remember to cast it upon Him — He cares.

“It Could Be Worse” was originally published in Refreshing Faith on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

For example, when, as Christians, we proudly declare our beliefs, our righteousness, and what we see as correct doctrine concerning the condemnation of the self for the sake of God’s Kingdom and the elevation of Christ, what the person at the receiving end often sees is merely a proud and arrogant parading (and parody) of Christian faith. The pride and arrogance is born from our deepest desire to be the greatest, and at the head of the table (Luke 9: 46-50), and indeed to keep ourselves in check precisely for the fulfillment of this desire, so we can then assert ourselves over others!

This self-assertion while mimicking the death of self keeps the fire burning for self. It is a mimicking which, in turn, leads to a refusal to listen and learn from others, whether Christian or not; in other words, it leads to a refusal to be humble. To die to self, then, as Christ recommended in John 12:24-25, is not a defiant assertion of ourselves over ourselves, which then is boasted about and recommended to others, as if our personal vigilance and strength can do the work of purity and holiness. Rather, dying to self is simply and only being humble before God, and our fellow human beings, assuming always that we are lesser than and not more than others (Philippians 2:3); that we are weak, and not strong (2 Corinthians 12:9); that we should always trust in God and not our own understanding (Proverbs 3:5-6); and that beliefs and correct doctrine, by themselves, say absolutely nothing about the character of who we are. As James says so clearly in 2:19: ‘You believe that there is one God. Good! Even the demons believe that — and shudder!’

IF YOU LIKE THIS POST WHY NOT TRY MY OTHER BLOG For disconnected Christians and other questioning journeyers