​I’ve been stripped.
Of my car. 
Of my oven. 
Of my laptop.
At least temporarily. And it’s been rough. I mean, God has called me to be a wife, a mom, and a writer. These things are the tools of my trade. Without them, I feel bare, lacking. Who am I when I can’t drive, cook, or write?

It started while listening to an Annie Downs’podcast. I was challenged by the question, “Who are you when you’re not caring for the people you love?” The question made me cringe. Who. Am. I? But instead of lingering there, I answered by rote, “I am a child of God,” and kept going about my day. Except God wasn’t done.
 
Who are you when you’re not ___________? Think about that for a minute.
 
Nurturing my family is my jam. Making them happy makes me happy. But what about when I can’t provide them with everything they want and need? Am I okay with that? God called me to love these people, but He wants me to put this calling in context. And He wasn’t going to let me move on until we spent some time here. When I took my car in for an oil change, and it ended up it needed to stay in the shop for a few days, I felt Him nudging me with this question again. I laughed. Okay, God, so who am I when I can’t drive my kiddos anywhere? My oven decided it’s too hot outside and won’t heat above 200 degrees. All right, God. I’m listening.

When I’m not doing my wife and mom gigs, I’m writing. My old laptop was shutting down (see a pattern), so I splurged and replaced my nine-year old standby. I felt quite clever as I managed the “migration assistant” and my old and new Macs seemed to be telepathically communicating. Until they got mad at each other and stopped talking. The Apple store informed me it would take 72 hours to get my laptop up and running. Which left me once again asking, “Who am I when I’m not….”

I kept looking around for something to do, because I couldn’t tend to my usual tasks. Without my car, oven, or computer how should I best love my family well, write well for God? I heard Jesus calling. Here’s what you should do. Sit with me. Talk to me. Guess what? As I sat still with the Lord, it was peaceful. I didn’t feel less, because I wasn’t rocking all my tasks. God was in my moments of not being able to achieve. He didn’t ditch me just because I wasn’t doing all the things. In fact, God asked me who gave me those assignments, because He never said in order to be a good mom I had to drive to soccer practice or that in order to write for Him I had to finish the third chapter for my proposal by the end of the week. Turns out those were metrics I was using. Not God.
 
My initial response, “child of God,” was right, But God didn’t want me to fill in the bubble and turn the page. It’s too important. It’s actually true. Jesus wanted me to soak myself in it, wrap myself in it. I am a child of God. I am His. I am chosen. I am loved. I am empowered. I am enough.
 
And so are you.
 
The things I’ve been stripped of are minimal and temporary. I have friends who have been stripped of much more. One friend lost their home. Another their relationship. Yet, another her memories. Who are these people without their house, partner, and past? They are still God’s children. He still holds them dear. They still have complete access to God’s strength, power, joy, peace, and love. There’s nothing in Scripture that states we need a family, to be married, to live in a certain place or have a certain state of mental health to be loved by Jesus.
 
Do we believe that? Do we live like that?

​God is hammering this truth into my head. It’s a blast to love on my husband and kids, and write stories for Jesus. It is. Down to my core I believe God called me to do these things. They light me up. But I also need to trust that God is in control—that when everything else is gone, when it’s just me and Jesus, that that is enough. In fact, it’s spectacular.
 
I don’t know what you call yourself today, but how would you feel if one of those nametags got peeled off? If the things you do disappear… who are you? 
 
Jesus told some fishermen, “Drop your nets and follow me.” He told a rich man, “Sell everything you have and follow me.” Jesus looked a tax collector in the eye and said, “Quit your job. Follow me.”Not everyone Jesus challenged to strip off the things that defined them obeyed. Those are some tough instructions. But those that did, those that laid down their nets and their balance sheets, never regretted it.
 
I am not fully responsible for making everything work, for having all the answers, for doing everything perfectly. Neither are you. This is such a relief. But what’s even better to know is that the Lord of all loves me, loves you, not for any of our statuses, but simply because we’re His. I’m not wishing upon any of you that you lose something that matters to you, but I am praying that whatever you do or don’t have, that you realize how fully loved and complete you are, because you belong to Jesus.

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Ten years ago I climbed out of a cab into a narrow alley in Lyon, France with two of my kids, jet-lagged and disoriented. When our driver stopped in front of the graffiti-laden door I was speechless. This was the address I’d given him. My husband and other two children would be delivered to this same spot any minute (one French taxi was not equipped to hold two parents, four kids, and six pieces of luggage). So, even though I couldn’t imagine this is where we would be living for the next month while my husband taught at the local university, this is apparently the place the school had rented for us. The small black Peugeot taxi disappeared down the steep alley, and I extended my arms like wings pulling my kids close trying to make them feel safe, even though the burning pit in my stomach and dark sense of dread enveloping my heart intensified by the second.

On our recent family vacation to France we revisited this alley hearts warm, smiles creeping across our six Smith faces.
 
Why?
Because behind the graffiti-covered front door is a walkway leading up a series of stairs to a fantastic French apartment complete with bright purple and green throw pillows on a dove gray Ikea couch, a basket of toys, and a spectacular view of a church steeple and the red-tiled rooftops of Lyon. The memories of the five weeks we spent here ten years ago are some of my fondest.
 
Despite my initial moments of dread, ends up we lived on the same street as the elementary school and only a two-minute walk from a peaceful playground. Safe. Quiet. Family friendly. While Brett rode the bus to the University each morning, the kids and I crossed the Saone River on a cherry red bridge to the outdoor market, purchasing fresh produce. Our next stop was the boulangerie to find fresh warm pastries and baguettes for the day. While Brett taught students from around the world about entrepreneurship, our kids played futbol with French children on the playground and tag in the large public square with a giant statue of the sun king, Louis XIV. We explored the ancient Roman ruins, and the cathedral Fourvière covered with mosaics perched atop a hill. Church on Sundays was at Saint-Georges, originally built in the year 550 at the end of our street, whose church bells serenaded us daily on the hour. We learned our way around the city, and became friends with our baker and grocer. It was like a page out of a Madeline book.

You see, you can't judge an adventure by its doors.
 
What looked to be a run down apartment in the bad part of town turned out to be a charming home within walking distance to everything a family with four kiddos could want in the loveliest (in my opinion) neighborhood in Lyon. Turns out the university knew exactly what they were doing when they rented the apartment. They were taking care of us. We just didn’t realize it at first glance.
 
How often do we do this? Decide something is bad, wrong, unsafe, finished, undoable before even waiting to see what’s behind the door. We give up before we start, or at least before we’ve allowed God to show us what He’s up to.
 
I think of the poor disciples after Jesus was crucified. Their Savior, leader, pastor, friend was gone. They saw Him brutally executed. Watched His body carried away and sealed in a grave with a giant forboding stone. But behind that stone the most amazing thing was going down. Jesus conquered the grave, so that we too, would never be stuck in the dark without air. The disciples couldn’t see this. Not until they looked inside the door on Sunday and realized that tomb was empty.

Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they were on their way to the tomb and they asked each other, “Who will roll the stone away from the entrance of the tomb?”
But when they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had been rolled away. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man dressed in a white robe sitting on the right side, and they were alarmed.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. —Mark 16:2-6

What door seems shut in your life? Or damaged or covered in grafitti or locked or knocked down or sealed with a stone?
 
Sometimes God closes doors. And I am so grateful for that, because the doors He’s closed in my life have forced me to turn around so I could see the things He wants to teach me, and eventually the doors He’s swung wide open for me.
 
But Jesus also asks us to trust Him. Trust that the skill God gave you He will use for good. Trust that the relationship that didn’t work out wasn’t supposed to last for an extremely good reason (even if you don't see that today). Trust that Jesus has something incredible in store at the new place He’s put you. Trust that the sun will shine again. Trust that the apartment He set up for your family in France will be safe. Trust that when Jesus said He was coming back, He meant it.
 
I can’t tell you which doors are permanently closed and which ones you need to push open in your life. But I do know God will show you. He wants us to discover His plans. It’s not some game He’s playing like Let’s Make a Deal. God would never hide a goat behind one of the doors He's set on your path or lock a door He intends for you to walk through. No. He puts exactly what we need behind precisely the right door and if we’re patient (apparently sometimes it takes about three days) and willing to unlock the door or roll back the stone we’ll discover pure love, ultimate grace, and adventures beyond our comprehension.
 
Are you ready to push open the door?

​This year I’ve been working on a book about music and the church and our roots. I’ve been writing the chapters out of order, which is not my style, but I knew how I wanted it to end, and there was something I wanted to change in the middle, and another chapter needed to go bye-bye and be replaced. I was working off two documents—the beautiful, polished one I’ll send my editor, and the one with lots of notes, some ideas for later, some reminders for now. So I kind of knew where I was with the project, but not completely. I thought I had at least three full chapters to write, plus edits as I pulled up the manuscript on my laptop. I was all set to start a new chapter, when one I’d been doing a major remodel on caught my eye. 

​I spent the day reworking the words—their order, the story they told. And when it took the shape I was hoping for, I added that chapter to my pretty document, and scrolled through. All thirty chapters had been written. What?!
I’m not saying I didn’t have some major editing to do, just that the first draft was complete, which is huge. And I didn’t even realize I’d crossed the finish line. I looked at the sky, blue and clear on the other side of the screen on my porch, and whispered, “thank you,” to Jesus, because He’s the one who gave me this book and He’s the one who truly wrote it. I just took dictation.
 
A completed draft is not a finished project, so I kept going, organizing the table of contents, fixing some footnotes. I didn’t take time to high five myself or journal or go beyond that one whispered phrase of gratitude. I’d save that for when I turned it in. Plus we were leaving that afternoon for an out of town soccer tournament. I still had to pack, grab a few things from the store, fill my car with gas. So, I kept going. And going.
 
Fast forward to that evening. I’d arrived in Columbus where the soccer games would start early the next morning. And because God is so good, my incredibly talented and lovely friend, Holly Starr, was playing a show in Columbus. Which is a huge deal, because she lives on the other side of the country, and we rarely get to see each other. But here God was—giving us this night for a hug, shared conversation, and the beautiful opportunity for me to witness her using her God-given talent. Holly sang some tunes off her latest album, Human. She sang some familiar worship music everyone knew. Her last song was “Give Me Jesus.” Which just happened to be the title of one of my book chapters. 

Her rendition felt so raw and personal, like it was a gift from God, wrapped up with a shiny silver bow and delivered specifically for me. I’m sure others in the audience benefited from the reminder…but in that moment…you could have all this world, all I wanted was Jesus. He was reminding me of what happened that day—that He had given me a large assignment, walked with me every step of the way, and because I was willing to be obedient, He did a thing, a glorious thing—He wrote a book with me. And in the writing Jesus taught me so much. I felt like I would burst with appreciation.
 
The pastor of the church took the mic, said a prayer, and invited anyone who needed prayer to come forward while his wife sang a closing song. His adorable wife with short silver, curly hair and cherry red lips stood up and began, “Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus….” Yes. Oh my. I also referenced the lyrics to this song on a page of my book.
 
The book is about all kinds of things Jesus wants us to know, all kinds of ways we can connect with Him. And yet, the final two songs of a night that already felt like a present were straight from the conversations I’d been having with God as I wrote it. If gratitude was a liquid, my cup was running over.

This is how our God works. We go through the motions—did I pack toothpaste? And He sets up a Christmas tree packed with presents. We think, okay, check, I did that task, and He says, “Let’s celebrate! Look how wonderful things work out when we collaborate!”

​I didn’t deserve to have the chance to write this book, yet I'd been spending my days penning the pages. I didn’t deserve to learn everything God taught me in the writing, yet I was full of a deeper understanding than when I began. I didn’t deserve to finish it before I thought I was done. I was ready to do more, but it was as if God wrote extra pages while I was sleeping or cooking dinner or driving carpools. I didn’t deserve to see my friend. I didn’t coordinate calendars or book a flight, but here she was smiling in front of me. And oh these beautiful songs that stirred my soul, I didn’t deserve to hear them, but God lavished them on me, like mounds of home made whipped cream, light and sweet, on top of rich, chocolate lava cake.
 
I didn’t deserve any of it, but just like I love to shower my kiddos with gifts, treats, and surprises, our Heavenly Father loves to love on us.
 
So keep on writing, or running, or researching, or rehearsing. Keep on studying, stretching, being obedient to what God is calling you to do. I don’t know when or what it will look like (I wasn’t expecting any of the presents He showered on me), but I do know He will lavish you with undeserved gifts, blessings sweet, tangible, and endless. Just keep your eyes on Him. The things of earth will grow strangely dim…in the light of His glory and grace. 

​Flying home from California my ears filled with pressure. It felt like someone was stuffing thick, fuzzy bath towels in my ears. And believe me, there was no room for them. I feel it on most flights, but this was a doozy. I told my husband if I was a baby I would have been screaming. I turned to all the tricks—chewing gum, drinking water, fake yawning. And I was doing them all a bit too fervently, hoping for even the slightest relief in my ears. Then, probably, because of all the bizarre antics of chomping and swallowing, I got the hiccups. I attempted to contain them, because although my husband sat on my right, a stranger sat on my left, and I didn’t want to weird him out too much. So my body twitched every four seconds and my ears felt like they were going to explode, and I was trying to breathe deeply, in and out, but I felt like a cartoon. The plane could not land quickly enough.

​Somewhere in the midst of all the ridiculousness, I realized Jesus also got the hiccups. Jesus’s ears popped. I giggled in my seat—more antics. There was relief in this fact. It’s silly. And trivial. But also pretty cool. God, who designed oak trees to grow 80 feet tall and produce tiny acorns, less than an inch tall, with a point on the end so they could plant themselves insuring oaks won’t become extinct. That same God came down to earth to experience everything about being human. Everything. So Jesus could understand us better.

He didn’t have to. He could have stayed up on His royal throne. But Jesus chose this humbling condition—hiccups and all—out of love for us.
 
Jesus probably got splinters, experienced headaches. He sweat, got chilly, had to blow his nose. And maybe broke His ankle playing in the hills with His brother, James. Jesus most likely had nosebleeds, and definitely had his share of bad nights of sleep.

​Whatever your body is experiencing today—migraine, fatigue, sore muscles—Jesus knows what you’re up against. He doesn’t just sympathize, but empathizes. So talk to Him about it. And take comfort knowing the King of the universe loves you so much, that He experienced all kinds of peculiar bodily pain so He could relate to you.
 
Reflect:
Take inventory of your body. What’s working well—a healed cut? Cleared sinuses? Praise Jesus for it.
 
What’s not—cramps? Allergies? Ask Jesus for relief.
Thank Him for taking on a human body, so He could truly understand.
 

​On winter days in high school if I wanted to see on the way to school, which I did, I needed to exit my house five minutes earlier, turn on my ignition, blast the front and rear defrosters to hot and high, and start the back and forth motions with my plastic scraper against my windows. Because every night winter frost decorated my windshield with delicate, icy crystals. Although I griped about standing outside in below freezing weather, the crisp air actually did wonders to wake me. And the effort was worth it, because the combination of my scraping and the car blowing warmth on the glass, cleared the windows, and I could drive safely and confidently to school (well sort of confidently…I’m not that strong a driver).

​I see this in my life, too. Each morning I wake to an alarm, and barely take time to yawn before diving into what needs to be accomplished in the next forty-five minutes—fix five breakfasts, dole out vitamins, get out lunch boxes, write and insert notes, and double check everyone has what they need (the $1 for an out of uniform day, the friend’s jacket left at our house). Nothing hard, but a lot of moving parts for a short amount of time. My brain cranks on rapid fire and starts to stress, worry, and fuss--one of my kids seems down, are they okay? Why can’t I find my wallet? Where did I put it? Dang, we’re out of milk, which means I need to go to the store today, even though I was just there last night. Why didn’t I remember?
 
Crystals of concern begin to cover the windshield of my faith. By the time my kids head out to school, my head is cluttered and has limited visibility. Does this happen to you? Is there a time of day that’s crazy, where there is so much juggling you lose sight of love, peace, and patience?

​We need to scrape it all off, so we can see Jesus again. So, we can see how much He loves us, has perfect plans for us, and promises to always stay at our sides, so we can see our true reflections. In the silence after my kids scurry, I pull out my Bible and journal, read and write until my mental windshield is clear again, until I’m ready to put my foot to the pedal and truly start my day. Because it’s only by starting with Jesus, that we have a clearer view of who we are, where we are going, and what truly matters.
 
Reflect:
Do you have any crystals cluttering the windshield of your faith? What are they?
 
 
What can you do this morning to scrape them off, before driving into your day?
 

My daughter and I had to weave our way through an Easter carnival in the middle of the town square to get to Scoops. The festivities included a jumpy house, sand art, an outdoor viewing of Hop, and of course photos with the Easter Bunny. We made our way through toddlers and parents and into the ice cream parlor where we proceeded to order bowls of gooey peanut butter brownie and rich coffee toffee ice cream. As we sat down to a table to enjoy our cool, creamy treats the Easter Bunny entered the shop. I was primarily focused on my daughter, but couldn’t help being a little startled when the Easter Bunny took off her costume head, and there was the face of a normal looking mom with a white, furry, bunny body. Of course I knew she was in a suit, but all of a sudden she wasn’t at all what she seemed.

Later that night in our hotel room, we could hear the people in the room next to us. Clearly. Too clearly. They were reading someone’s text and complaining loudly about the person who sent it. My daughter and I wished they would pipe down, but I was also sad for the person who sent the text. Pretty sure they wouldn’t have wanted it to be read aloud (and who knew the audience would also include us?). I’m also certain they wouldn’t have wanted to be talked about like that. The receiver of the text went on to share how she’d responded, which was way different than what she was shouting through hotel room doors. She wasn’t being consistent. In the privacy of her hotel room, her mask came off, revealing a different side of her.
 
Unfortunately, we’re all like this sometimes. We tend to wear certain faces for certain people—to appear stronger, braver, smarter, more put together, like we can handle it, like we’re okay or cool (even if we’re not). We sometimes say one thing, but feel completely different about it. Sometimes we act differently when we’re alone, then when we’re out in public, or speak differently when we’re with one group compared to how we speak when we’re with another.
 
But Jesus? Jesus is exactly who He says He is. He is always the same. He wears no masks and speaks no lies. He is always honest, kind, King of Kings, Holy, powerful, wise, brave, our Rescuer, our Redeemer, the Creator, strong, true, and loving. Always.

As we’re midway through Holy Week (the week leading up to Easter), I’m reading about Jesus in those final days of His life on earth. When He rode into town on a donkey and people waved palm branches at Him, Jesus was all these things (Mark 11:7-10). On that day everyone recognized Him as king—powerful, wise, and holy. But Jesus knew He was riding into town to rescue everyone. He knew what was ahead, and He did it anyway, because He is consistently strong, true, brave, and loving.
 
When Jesus overturned the tables at the temple, yes, He was angry (Mark 11:15-17). But only because He loves God the Father and His people, and He saw that the people were making a mess of things. Just like a parent snatches matches out of the hands of a toddler, using a firm voice, Jesus removed the danger from His children. Because He loves them. Because in wisdom He knows better. Because He’s never afraid to stand up for what is right.
 
When the religious officials belittled and questioned Jesus (Matthew 26:62-64), Jesus initially bit His tongue. He is holy, the Creator of all and didn’t have to come up with a snide comment or answer questions He didn’t want to. As High King of Heaven, He has both the wisdom and the authority to remain silent if He chooses. And when Jesus decided to speak, He declared with full authority that He will be ‘seated in the place of power at God’s right hand.’

On the cross Jesus was still King of Kings, still loving us, still bravely there to rescue us, not because He had to, but because He wanted to (Luke 23:26-49). This is who our Lord is. Never changing. Always faithful. We never have to worry about Jesus taking off a mask, about being different than who He says He is. If Jesus tells us something this morning, or if He said it over 2000 years ago, we can know it is 100% true. Jesus won’t change His mind, or say something different when He’s hanging out with someone else. He’ll never turn on us or let us down.
 
Jesus? He is the same, yesterday, today, and forever. —Hebrews 13:8. He is honest, kind, King of Kings, Holy, powerful, wise, brave, our Rescuer, our Redeemer, the Creator, strong, true, and loving. Always. Let’s marinate ourselves in who our Savior is this Holy Week as we remember how He died on the cross to save us. Because He loves us and He wants us with Him always.
​

My editor noticed I’m over on word count. It seems every single chapter of my manuscript is too many words long, putting the projected length of my book larger than my contract allows. She kindly suggested I start cutting. It’s a problem I have. Using too many words. Just ask my husband who wishes he had a fast forward button to use on me when I’m sharing a story. And although it’s tricky, when I cut away excess words my writing becomes cleaner, tighter, and more impactful. Turns out, there are loads of things I think I need that I can actually live without.

Like apparently our washing machine, at least for a few days. Even though I typically run two loads a day. Even with five people constantly throwing their damp towels and smelly, sweaty t-shirts in the hamper. Gheesh. But what do you know? We all have plenty of clothes to sustain us without “needing” the dirty ones instantly cleaned. Which makes me think it’s high time I sort through our closets and put together some giveaway bags. Yeah, there are some things in my life I think I need, but I can definitely live without.
 
The light over our kitchen table also isn’t working. Anyone else living this life? The switch is shorted out. I have a call into the electrician, finally. But we’ve been surviving for over two weeks by using other nearby lights to illuminate our meals. Go figure. And we lost a credit card. Cringe. We’ve stopped the account and Visa is sending replacements. But we are managing without it.
 
Is there something in your life that you would be just fine if it was gone? Is there anything in your life you truly couldn’t live without

I felt I needed those words to tell my story, that machine to wash our clothes, that light to see what I’m eating, and the credit card because, well, things cost money. Turns out, I’m okay without them (at least for a while). But there’s one thing I can not live without. Jesus.
 
I need Him when I first wake up to center my day, to remind me how His perfect plans have always been in motion and always will be. I need Jesus for the people I love—I ask Him to comfort my child who’s disappointed and to fill another child with peace in the midst of their stressful week. I turn to Jesus for advice on how to handle a conversation, on which projects to focus on, on how to find balance between work and my adorable family. I need Him to help me see others through His eyes. I need Him to help me see myself through His gracious eyes. I need Jesus to help me bite my tongue and extend grace when I’m frustrated. I need Jesus to help me reach out, stand up, or share when it feels easier not to. I crave to catch glimpses of His glory, to drink in His gorgeous creation, His love, His kindness, His forgiveness, His acceptance.
 
Sure, I’ve lived through way too many days when I did not seek Jesus, but I don’t ever want to go there again. Those days were stinky, damp, dark, full of words I shouldn’t have said, things I shouldn’t have done, things I shouldn’t have bought, people I shouldn’t have been with, and places I should not have gone. Those days were full of me striving and yet, somehow always feeling empty. I’m not saying because I hang out with Jesus that I never make mistakes. Nope. He still gives me free will. And I still mess up. All the time.

But with Jesus in my life, I know where to go when I fall. I know I can run to His arms, and He will pick me up and show me what love and forgiveness actually look like. I know when I’m out of time or patience or ideas or answers that He provides all of those things in abundance. I know that Jesus is the rock I can stand on, the love that will never leave me, and the answer to all of my questions. He wants to be all of these things for you, too. All you have to do is ask Him.
 
I’m really hoping my washer/light switch/credit card situations get fixed ASAP. I’m working on deleting unnecessary words to better tell stories for Jesus. But mainly I pray that I can cling to Him. Because I can do without all that other stuff. But I don’t want to live a single moment without Him.

​“Is everyone okay?” My mom called down the hallway.
 
A loud crash, as if a bunk bed had caved into itself and tumbled to the floor, rang throughout my mom’s mountain house. Mom rushed toward the noise. I was a half step behind.

​A serviceman had been walking the eaves of the attic space and stepped off a beam, literally putting his foot through the drywall of the upper story’s floor, which was also the laundry room’s ceiling. When you’re in an attic the beams are the only sturdy flooring. He was doing his job. Going about his work. But one step off the path he was supposed to be on, and, well, his foot came through the ceiling.
 
An hour or so later we went down the mountain to the resort where the bridge that has connected the tennis and basketball courts with the beach for as long as I can remember was wiped out. Caution tape haphazardly strung on the remaining wooden posts warned us not to step where there is no longer any footing. A flood came through earlier this spring and strong torrents of rushing water claimed the bridge as its own.
 
Dang. We have to be careful where we walk.
 
And I sense this in my current season. I hear God calling me to new things, great things, things I had better watch my step as I move forward, so that I stay on the sturdy beams He’s set before me to walk on, so that I don’t stumble or fall on this journey by trying to do things my own way—off roading from His route. I sense this as one of my sons considers where he’ll go to college. I know God has a plan for him with a strong, secure pathway. I want him to choose that path, not one that is wobbly or unstable.

​Gosh, just in the last few days in my life, a friend got fired after giving years of loyal service to his organization, another friend’s mom got a horrible health diagnosis, and another family has been turned inside out by something completely unexpected. These are just people I know. How do we stand strong when the torrents of life blow around us?
 
How do we avoid putting our feet through the floor or having the bridge go out beneath us? How do we walk strong and fast and secure both in the glorious new opportunities of life and when the storms hit?
 
As I stand and stare at the beautiful Smoky mountains, ridge after ridge of magnificent landforms, I can’t help but feel Jesus reminding me of the words He spoke to a crowd gathered around Him on a mountain one day.
 
“Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.” –Matthew 7:24-27

​Some days everything looks totally fine, wonderful even, but if we try to venture where we aren’t intended to go we could fall into danger. Some days rain drizzles and soaks our lives. Streams rise. Winds blow and beat against us.
 
But Jesus is steady and secure. No misstep can throw Him off course. No unexpected event can knock Him down. No natural disaster or flood of emotions or insults or bills can wear Him down. He is solid impermeable, unshakable rock. Yes, please, I want to build my foundation on Him.
 
I don’t need a hammer and nails. Thanks goodness! Picture hanging is about as handy as I get. All I have to do is hang out with Him. Talk to Jesus and share my praises and problems. Listen to His sweet, tender voice. Let the sun soak my skin and the breeze brush across my face and be still in Christ’s love allowing Him to shape my life.
 
What’s going on in your life today? Are you in a peaceful place? A time of excitement and growth? Or are you just holding on for dear life? In any and all of these circumstances you need a place to stand. Stand on Jesus. He loves you so deeply. His strong arms will hold you tight when you’re wobbly, hold your burden when your hands feel too full, and cheer for you when you’re in your groove. No matter what kind of life-weather comes your way, Jesus is unshakable. And He’s on your side. Why not build your life in Him?
 
 

​The odds of picking a perfect NCAA tournament bracket are 1 in 9,223,372,036,854,775,808. The odds of winning the Powerball lottery (which was up to $750 million at the writing of this post) are 1 in 292 million. These numbers are easy to find with a quick Google search. But has anything extraordinary ever happened to you and you wondered, “What are the odds that could have happened?” I had one of those “what are the odds?” moments this weekend. 

​We entered the Starbucks and the rich, inviting aroma of roasted coffee beans welcomed us inside. Our main goal was to find the bathroom. After detours and construction my friend, her husband, their daughter, me, and my daughter had been in the car for hours and still had a few to go before we arrived in Gatlinburg for the girls’ soccer tournament. While we were stopped for the restroom, treats were in order. For me? A tangy, iced peach tea sounded like the perfect pick me up.
 
Before any of us could order, a young woman with long brown hair and perfectly arched eyebrows hugged my friend. I didn’t know how they knew each other, or why in the world they’d bump into each other here, but I heard the gal say, “Kat’s in the car.”
 
What?
 
Kat is my friend’s older daughter, who had been in Savannah, and was supposed to be meeting us in Gatlinburg to watch her little sister play. But moments before we pulled out of the driveway, Kat texted saying she was sick and couldn’t come. She would drive with her friend straight back to Cincinnati to get some rest. The whole family was disappointed Kat wouldn’t be at the tournament, and that they couldn’t be together when Kat was feeling so awful.
 
But now? As we made our random rest stop from Ohio to Tennessee and Kat took a break from her route from Savannah to Cincinnati, our paths collided at the exact same Starbucks at the exact same time.

​What are the odds?
Maybe zero?
But this thing had nothing to do with odds. It was a gift from God. My friend got to see and hug her sick daughter. Her daughter got giant, comforting hugs from her mom and dad. Kat also got to wish her younger sister good luck. The whole episode only lasted about ten minutes, but it was beautiful to witness the warmth and depth of this impromptu reunion.
 
This is how God works. All of the time. He is orchestrating things beyond our imagination, outside of our control. We feel disappointed, stressed, impatient, concerned when things don’t go our way. When we get sick and we have to miss something we want to attend. When we’re sent out of our way or feel stuck and don’t seem to be moving ahead. When we can’t see someone we had plans to meet or go somewhere we had plans to go God says, “Be anxious about nothing. (Matthew 6:25) Don’t worry about tomorrow (Matthew 6:34). Trust me. I’ve got this (John 16:33).”
 
And then He does something crazy awesome!
 
Paul and Silas were two missionaries teaching folks about Jesus. They were preaching in the town of Philippi, when long story short, they ended up in jail. Not exactly what they were hoping for.
But then God.
God created an earthquake so powerful it shook the jail to its foundation. Bricks crumbled and tumbled every which way. The jailer was also shaken by this miracle and ended up believing in Jesus. So did his entire household. (Acts 16:16-40) Paul and Silas set out to teach people about Jesus, but landed in prison. But God put them there at just the right place at just the right time, so He could shake things up and convert a whole family of unlikely suspects.
 
What are the odds that jail would be struck by an earthquake? That the unbelieving jailer and his large clan would be transformed?
Again, I’m guessing zero.
 

​Does something look bleak today? Disappointing? Like you’ll miss seeing your favorite person or maybe that you ended up in the opposite place of where you’d hope you would be?
 
God isn’t fazed. At all. He has some elaborate behind-the-scenes plan at work. He will somehow use where you are, when you’re there, mix things up and do something that will blow you away.
 
The odds of you being born with your exact genetic makeup are 1 in 400 trillion. And yet, here you are, reading these words right this very moment. God blows off the doors on all the odds. He intentionally and specifically created you exactly how you are. (Pretty cool, right?) And He hasn’t stopped working in and through your life since the moment He formed you. No matter how highly the odds may seem stacked against you. Trust Him. You never know who He might have you run into or what He might crumble down. But you can count on it being phenomenal. Those are odds you can bet on.

​God loves us. But sometimes we forget. Sometimes we’re so caught up in the jumble of our lives that we won’t even allow Him to remind us. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. Will you let God and the people He put in your life love you?

​The other day one of my kids woke with a massive headache. They had an important presentation at school ahead of them. They felt awful and were unsure of how they could navigate the presentation through their pain, but they had to go. They needed to be there. I laid out a grab-and-go breakfast, knowing not eating amplifies headaches. I found Advil and Tylenol to tackle the headache from both sides. I placed the capsules in the hand of my sweet child. But they were hurting and stressed, which made it difficult to focus on the help in front of them. They felt frozen by pain and worry, unable to put the medicine or breakfast in their mouth. I only share this, because I saw so much of my own frequent shutdowns and refusal to accept God's help in their struggle.
 
I unfortunately do this all the time.
“Need any help?” my husband asks as I hustle around the kitchen trying to get dinner on the table before someone needs to sprint out the door for practice or rehearsal.
“No!” I snarl. Which is not the kindest way to respond to someone offering assistance. But I’m in a mode, and a mood. And I fear if I slow down to even explain to Brett what needs to be done, I won’t complete my task in time. So instead of trusting and accepting the love God offers via my husband, I continue in a snit. I miss out on a chance to realize the beauty in the fact that God is tender enough to notice me making dinner and to offer me free kitchen staff.
OR
I’ll get edits on something I’ve written, and stubbornly think, nah, it makes perfect sense how I wrote it. Which is clearly not true, or the person editing wouldn’t have questioned what I was trying to say. God gives me wisdom via a colleague to improve the work I do for Him. Why do I ever resist accepting these insightful suggestions?
OR
Someone-who-hurt-me’s name comes up in conversation, and all I want to do is make a snide remark. But I hear God whisper, Let it go. Speaking negative things makes you hang onto bitterness, which only ends up hurting you. It also sets a bad example for those around you. My Good, Good Father is trying to protect me from inflicting pain on myself. Yet, I want to say the snarky thing, so I say it anyway. And then get a pit in my stomach.
 
Can you relate?

​I knew within fifteen minutes of ingesting the acetaminophen and ibuprofen my child’s pain would be minimized. I also knew the longer they worried, the less time they’d have to get ready for school. This would make them more stressed. And the whole thing would continue to spiral. Easier to see when it’s happening to someone else. But I couldn’t shove medicine down their throat. And I couldn’t force feed them breakfast or dress them. I love my child and had tools to help—medicine, food, and a plan. They couldn’t accept any of it. They ended up darting out the door hungry and in a frazzled mess.
 
Ugh. How many times do we do this with the help God offers? Shake our heads, wallow in our pain, and refuse to accept the gift of love He’s basically placed in our palms. We don’t mean to. My kiddo didn’t mean to. They wanted to feel better, but they were overwhelmed. By all of it. I want to feel better, too—less stressed, better at my trade, and less bitter. But when we get overwhelmed, we tend to shut down. And in shutting our hands, we make it nearly impossible to receive God’s gifts.
 
Jesus came down to earth to love us. He died on the cross to love us. He sent the Holy Spirit to live inside us to—you guessed it—love us. That’s a lot of love. So why are we resisting it?
 
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.  For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,[k] neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. —Romans 8:37-39 NIV

​Tomorrow is a day dedicated to expressing love. I hope your day is full of those yummy-red-chewy-cherry hearts, rich Dove chocolates, laughter with the people dear to you, and warm, comforting hugs. But no matter if it is or is not, I know that you are loved by your Creator, by the Creator of all the things, by the King of kings. There’s not a single way you can mess up that will make Jesus love you less. There’s not a single thing you need to do to make Jesus love you more. He loves you fully and completely. Right now. As is.
 
He offers grace and joy and forgiveness and hope. Will you receive it? Open your hands. Open your heart. And let His unending glorious love flood in.