​I want my kids to stay home and not return to school. I want the evenings to stay long, the air to stay warm, and to all sit around on the screened-in-porch laughing and talking with a soundtrack of crickets playing in the background. 
 
What do you want right now? The starting position? The starring role? A different relationship status? 

​In Disney’s The Princess FrogTiana and Prince Naveen show up at Mama Odie’s with green skin, sticky, pink tongues, and covered in mucous. They want to be turned back into humans. But Mama Odie cautions the two “frogs” against striving for what they want, and instead digging deeper to discover what they need. Hmmm.Maybe I should do the same.
 
Summer forever sounds good and glorious in my mind, but God is way wiser than Mama Odie or me. He knows my kids need to go back to school. If they didn’t their soccer seasons would never commence, they wouldn’t have the conversations that will grow, challenge, and inspire them, play the music orchestrated for them, or audition for the roles they’re itching to act in. If my kids stayed home I would never complete the book I’m working on. If it stayed summer the leaves wouldn’t turn vibrant orange and deep scarlet, the apples wouldn’t ripen, crisp and tart, and we’d never get sweet, frothy Pumpkin Spiced Lattes. Tragic.
 
Can you picture a year without fall? What would I be forfeiting if I got what I want? We think we know what we want, but God knows better what we need. 

How can I be so sure? Experience, for one thing. If all the relationships I’d wanted to work out had, I wouldn’t have married my incredible, loving husband. If we’d been able to purchase the house we wanted to buy when we moved back to Ohio, we wouldn’t have enjoyed our home for the last eighteen years. If my company had granted me the part-time position I wanted after having my first baby, I wouldn’t have pursued writing. And that’s just a sampling of the times God knew way better than I did what was best for me.
 
I also know God is wiser and more capable than me from reading scripture: 
God’s voice is glorious in the thunder.
We can’t even imagine the greatness of His power. – Job 37:5
He is clothed in dazzling splendor.
We cannot imagine the power of the Almighty. —Job 37:22-23
 
This glorious, great, dazzling, powerful, Almighty God of ours knows what He’s doing and has the power to make it happen. He loves us more than we can hope or fathom. Shouldn’t we trust Him to take care of our needs?
 
What do you want? 
What do you need?
Because they’re not always the same thing. I see this as a parent. My kids want to stay up later—which means they’ll be exhausted the next day. They want giant bowls of ice cream, which are tasty in the moment. But if they only ate ice cream, they’d get cavities and face some health issues. Mama Odie suggests to the two frogs who want to return to human form, to consider where happiness comes from before they make a wish. How do we dig deeper?

​By praying. It’s that simple. Talk to Jesus. Tell Him you’re worn out, excited, nervous, sad, tired of waiting, not sure what to do next. Tell Him your hopes and dreams—what you want. He already knows exactly what’s on your heart. But He also knows exactly what will fill you with joy, help you thrive, and saturate you with peace. Yes, we all want things. But why not turn those wants into conversations. Then take time to listen to what God whispers, walk away from the doors He shuts, peek through the windows He opens, act upon His nudges, and trust Him in the process.
 
Our God is glorious. And He loves you so much. He might not give you everything you “want.” But He will provide you with everything you need, plus more than you could ever imagine.

​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.

For more inspiration find me on Facebook and Instagram

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.

I like to be comfortable.
I mean really comfortable. I love to put on my jams as early as possible—as soon as I’m home for the day—cozy up on the couch with a soft, snuggly blanket, a mug of orange spice tea, and play Euchre or watch a movie with my husband and kiddos. 

These are wonderful moments. And I truly believe God created spices,, blankets, and decks of cards for our enjoyment. He wants us to savor these things. But of all the incredible promises God gave us—that He loves us, is always here for us, gives us strength, forgives us, empowers us, never leaves us, He never promised we’d be comfortable. Hmm.
 
Lately I’ve been holding tight on to comfortable, my daily routine, the things I can control, a nice, even work load, things that feel doable, familiar places, and where I can reach that fleecy blanket. But God’s been asking me to let go. He’s been placing new people and opportunities on my path—exciting opportunities, cool chances to share with more people how much Jesus loves them right now, as we are, where we are. And I’ve been shaking my head. I’ve been telling God, “Oh that sounds nice, but I’d have to drive far, work more hours, not be able to swing by the grocery if we’re out of something. The laundry might pile up. The kids might need me. What if I don’t get the blog out?” Yup, this was real this week. Because Tuesday night I ordered carry out, my son’s school pants were dirty, we were out of fruit and milk, and I hadn’t written a blog. I was freaking out a bit, because I like to have all of those things taken care of. I felt antsy. I was so uncomfortable.
 
God is so gracious, because He doesn’t chastise me as harshly as He should. God should tell me, “What is wrong with you? Why are you stressing about these little things, when hello, I’m God. I’m offering you amazing possibilities. Are you listening to yourself?”
No. He’s sweeter. And wiser. Instead God says, I love you. I’ll equip you. I’m not asking you to do these things, because I expect you to do it all. I know you’ll be uncomfortable, but I’ll do something incredible with it. I want to work through you. I want you to depend on me.
​

​Ahh. I. Don’t. Have. To. Do. It. All.
And neither do you.
 
But I bet there is something God is calling you to—something that seems difficult, perhaps uncomfortable. It could be something giant, like moving to a new city, or turning down a job offer, or it could be something as simple as telling a friend who’s undecided on her faith that you’ll be praying for her. Maybe God’s urging you to raise your prices, take a week off, make a phone call, go back to work, or sell your house. Maybe He’s nudging you to take a class, call the doctor, or visit your neighbor. And this thing makes you squirm—it’s out of your comfort zone, not your normal, and thinking about it puts you on edge. (Side note, God would never ask you to do something that would harm you—so if you feel like you’re being pushed to do something toxic, that’s not God. Step away.)
 
But uncomfortable, yeah, that sounds like God.
Jonah was not comfortable going to Nineveh to give the violent, malicious folks there a message. Moses wasn’t comfortable going to Pharaoh and demanding the release of his free labor force. None of the disciples were super comfortable with the fact that every time they mentioned Jesus’ name they risked being thrown in jail. But God was with Jonah. All the Ninevites converted on the spot. God was with Moses—it took some repeat action, but over two million Israelites walked out of Egyptian slavery, and straight through the Red Sea to safety on the other side. And the twelve disciples—a dozen uneducated, mix-matched, regular guys? God was with them. They spread the good news about Jesus, enabling you and me, over 2000 years later in a land that hadn’t even been discovered at the time, to know Jesus. To hear the good news that He died for our sins, rescued us from our troubles, and loves us completely.
God is with us, too.
 
What is God calling you to do that might feel bumpy or prickly?

Whatever it is, if it is God’s calling, please know He doesn’t expect you to go it alone. He doesn’t want you to. God will walk with you; give you the words, the ideas, the introductions, the skills, and the resources. If it’s Kingdom work, God wants it to get done. Since He invented vibrant purple flowers that can bloom from brown bulbs underground and gorgeous rainbows of color that arc in the sky from a mixture of rain and sun, He’s more than capable of accomplishing whatever He’s asking you to do.
 
When we hear God asking, “Who should I send? Who will go?” All we have to do is trust Him. Get off the couch. Get out of our comfort zones. Let go of the blanket. Take a deep breath and answer, “I’m in. Here I am, Lord. Send me.”

​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.

​Over the weekend I was at a soccer tournament in Lexington. On Saturday the girls had three games. As we were leaving the hotel one of the other moms who I adore said, “Do you guys want to ride over to the fields with us? I mean, we have a bunch of chairs and things in the car, but we can move them around and make room for you.” Riding over with friends sounded great, plus I’m always looking for a way out of driving (not my strong suit), so we hopped in their SUV.
 
But first they had to prepare—make a little room for us, move some stuff around, or we wouldn’t have fit.

After the first game, we went to brunch at First Watch. (Oh my goodness, have you had their banana granola pancakes? If not, find a First Watch soon and give them a try—crunchy, sweet, and lightly drizzled with syrup, of course.) We put our name in at the hostess stand and had to wait a few minutes while they got a table ready for us. Someone else had to leave. The table needed to be wiped down. New menus and silverware needed to be set up. They needed to prepare some room for us before we could dine.
 
As we’re entering into Advent (the four weeks leading up to Christmas observed as a way to “get ready” for Jesus) I wonder what I need to be moving around, shifting over, getting rid of, setting out to make more room for Jesus in my life.  The familiar Christmas hymn, “Joy to the World,” says it like this: Let every heart prepare Him room.
 
It’s not that I don’t have Jesus in my life. I do. I go to church, read my Bible, pray, but I also do a zillion other things. Make breakfast, pick up shirts from the dry cleaner, drive the curvy country roads to and from basketball practice, sign a permission slip so my teenager can watch 12 Years a Slave in class, call the pharmacy about a prescription… to name a few. And each of those things is great—feeding the fam, getting people where they need to go, crossing the t’s and dotting the i’s, at least some of them. But each workout I log, counter I wipe off, text I respond to is like another folding chair I throw in my trunk or another empty coffee mug on my table. Super handy for watching a soccer game or waking up, but making my life a little more crowded. And if I want Jesus to hop in my figurative car or sit at my table with me, I’m going to have to move some things around to make room for Him.

​Over 2,000 years ago Mary and Joseph had the best surprise for the entire world going. Mary was pregnant and about to give birth to the Savior of the World! Get. Out! This was the promise the Israelites had been waiting for for centuries (it had been over 500 years since the last of the great Jewish prophets telling how God would come down to save His people, Malachi, put down his quill). But yet, there was no room for them in the inn. —Luke 2:8
 
No room? For the promised Messiah? For the guy everyone had hoped for, prayed for, yearned for? We hear these verses every Christmas and imagine exhausted Mary and Joseph wandering around Bethlehem with their gray, fuzzy donkey. But do we let the “no room” part sink in? Not just that it was super frustrating to not be able to find a hotel--ugh. And not just that poor Mary had to give birth on prickly hay in a barn that smelled like cows, no thank you. Those are important details of the story, for sure. But so is this one. All of the folks in town who were craving a Savior, who were longing for a Messiah? Not one of them was able to find room in their busy lives, in their crowded homes for Jesus to actually enter and do what He does—love. They didn’t have room. And they weren’t willing to prepare any.
 
So how about us? If Jesus came knocking on our doors today, would we have time in our schedules to hang out with Him? What would we have to rearrange to make room for Jesus in our days? Skip an episode of This is Us? Use an absent pass from the staff meeting? Get someone else to drive carpool? Be okay with not vacuuming? Order pizza?
 
Because here’s the thing. Jesus is knocking at our doors. Right now. Literally as I write this blog and you read it. He’s saying, “Don’t you just love all the twinkly lights at Christmas time?” Or, “Wow, we haven’t talked in a while, but I miss hearing from you.” Or maybe, “Hey, I know things have been rough lately. Do you want to talk?” And Jesus is waiting to see if we’ll answer the door. Are we too busy? Is our life too noisy to even hear Him knocking?

​I don’t know what takes up too much time in your life, what’s a distraction from hearing His voice. But as I look at my life, the first thing that comes to mind is social media. Which I enjoy. And can be fun and helpful. But also on social media, I can totally lose track of time, translation waste valuable time, AND end up playing the comparison game, which never ends well. Plus if I could limit my time on social media, my brain would be less cluttered with the zillions of quotes and images that flash past my eyes and then immediately dissolve, AND I could be more focused on Jesus. I could have at least fifteen or so more minutes a day to pray, stop and think, or take a deep breath and talk to Jesus. So this is where I’m starting to prepare Him room. But I still have more preparing to do.
 
Maybe for you it’s not eliminating something, but actually intentionally doing something—setting that table or opening the door He’s knocking on by grabbing your Bible, putting aside time each day to pray, or setting the alarm one day a week to meet with that friend who is so good for your soul.
 
I don’t know what “chairs you need to move in your car,” or what air mattress you might need to blow up in your figurative inn. But I do know Jesus is knocking. He wants to hang out. Yup, even though that one part of your life is a mess, and that other thing you did isn’t quite resolved. Jesus just wants to come in. He doesn’t ask for anything fancy. Remember, where He made his debut was a stable. Jesus just wants to come in, so He can do what Jesus does. Love.
 
Will you prepare Him room?
What can you do today, to clear out some space for Jesus?


If you want to chat more about Advent, find me on Facebook and Instagram where I'll be chatting all things Advent and Christmas.

​This morning one of my daughters is walking into high school for the very first time. As soon as we drop her off, we’re driving our other daughter back to college. Tomorrow my older son returns to high school and although I get my youngest for a few more days, he starts back sooner than I’d like. Me? I’m one hot mess of mama emotions.

Summer with them has been…well it’s been all kinds of things. It’s been family dinners followed by hilarious conversations on the screened in porch while the sun slowly sets through the trees. It’s been countless hands of Euchre, coffee runs, episode upon episode of Shark Tank and so very much soccer. Summer’s been walks around the neighborhood, church picnics, science experiments, crêpes, cantaloupe and crunchy cucumbers from farmer’s market adventures, and board games on rainy afternoons. Summer has been filled with giggles and tears and frustration and joy. It’s been about shorts, t-shirts, flip-flops, hair pulled into ponies or buns or braids (for the girls) whatever mismatched napkins we have in the cupboard, and a seemingly endless supply of sweet, juicy watermelon kept cold in the fridge.
 
But today the page turns. And as with every story, the page turning simply means the story is progressing. The characters get to learn more, experience new things, meet new people, overcome more obstacles, gain courage and strength and sense of self. This is what I want for my kids. Clearly. To grow like this. But so much of my heart just wants to snuggle them and breathe them in a little longer.
 
I’m so proud of these kids. Of who they are. Of the choices they make. Of the things they accomplish. Of how again and again they seek God in their own ways. I know going back to school means having to fight for what they believe in, being ranked and sorted by their scores on their papers and on their teams’ fields. It means not always being heard or understood or invited. It means striving to prove yourself over and over again. I know growing up can be hard.

​But I also know this. As much as I love these four precious people, and I love them more than I knew human beings could experience love, God loves them more. He does. It’s hard for me to fathom, but it’s true. And the God who put taste buds on butterflies’ feet so it would be easy for them to immediately taste the nectar of the plants they land on, who gave the adorable baby deer who have been trotting around my neighborhood speckled backs so they can blend into the dappled light of sun on leaves, and who protects crisp, golden kernels of corn under layers of silky strands and papery husks, this God is going to take care of my kids, and your kids, and you, and me. Look at how He provides and equips butterflies, deer, and corn!!! Imagine what He will do for our kids, for us!
 
As much as I want only the very best friends and opportunities and experiences for my kids—God wants that more. He wants that for them and for us. As much as I long for my kids to overcome the challenges they face, to let go of the burdens they each carry, and to heal from all the things that have hurt them—God wants that more. He wants all this for my kids, and your kids, and me, and for you.
 
Who are you sending back to school? Maybe you’re the one headed back to the hallways and classrooms. Who or what are you worried about? Who are you praying for? A family member? A friend far away? Yourself? God loves them. He loves you. And He will put you exactly where you need to be, give you all the tools you need, equip you perfectly, so that you have every opportunity necessary to grow and heal and learn and soar. He does this for the people we wish we could make everything right for. He does this for us.

I don’t know if you’re also experiencing the back to school roller coaster or if your story and circumstances are totally different. But I do know as the summer chapter comes to an end and the pages of autumn tickle our fingers, God has a beautiful story planned—one filled with healing, growth, hope, grace, love. Not only is He capable of all of these things. He wants all of these things for all of His kids. Yes, I’ll cry ALL THE TEARS out of hope and love and longing for my kids. But I’m turning them over to God. Because I know He has them in His almighty hands.
 
Do you trust Him? Are you ready to let Him grow you? Teach you? Heal you? As you get on the figurative bus and pack your lunch or theirs, remember Jesus is with you. He’s with them. He loves us. He loved spending summer with us. But He is so excited for our fall and everything He’s planned for you and your kids in the upcoming days. I give you full on permission to miss your kids and pray for them like crazy, but let’s also breathe easily knowing this school year (and always); we (and the people we love) are loved and protected by the God of the Universe.  

In all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight. Proverbs 3:6
 

Our icemaker has been broken for months, but I’m chilly approximately 92% of the time, so it hasn’t really been a priority for me. However, this past week the thermometer crept up it to 90 degrees, and my poor kids are melting into puddles before my very eyes, so yes, I called the repairman. Along with the warmer temps, we have ants. I scheduled an appointment with the bug guy. Apparently next Thursday is convenient for him. The check engine light is on in my car. This requires a call to the auto shop. Our disposal isn’t working. I called our plumber, but he’s on vacation for two weeks. Bless. And our bathroom? I promise you do not want to see what it looks like. Let’s just say after I called plumber #2, this job required not one, but two plumbing TRUCKS with “the machine.” Our toilet had to be taken out in the yard. And yes, a shop vac and quite a bit of bleach were necessary. We’re okay for now, but they do need to come back in a couple of weeks to check on things and put a new top or end or something on the pipe they had to cut through. You’re welcome for not having any accompanying pictures of that mess.

​Witnessing all of this mayhem, my oldest daughter told me the thing she dreaded most about being a grown-up was that she’d have to make all of these phone calls. #adulting
 
None of these things get fixed without the phone calls. We really don’t have a choice, unless you’re a mechanic, plumber, electrician, and exterminator all rolled into one. Which, I am clearly not. It rarely takes one call to solve the household problems. This isn’t three clicks of your heels and you’re back in Kansas. So you make another call and another until the sink is fixed, the light goes off, the bugs go away, and yes, the toilet flushes. When we have household problems, we need to make calls and make them persistently. Period. The end. No way out.
 
And when we have problems with a relationship, stress, depression, being underappreciated, overwhelmed, overtired, or overworked, we also need to call out—to Jesus. Persistently. He will always answer, always know exactly how to help, and never put us on hold (if He did, what kind of Muzak do you think heaven would play?). But sometimes it does take more than one call. Not because Jesus is incapable. Please. This is the guy who knocked down the walls of a giant city with trumpet blasts and rose from the dead. Pretty sure He can take on anything. But sometimes it takes multiple calls to Jesus to set things straight, because it’s a multi-step task, or because we have to do something—use self-control, start the process, send the letter, take the trip, get out of our comfort zone, or possibly, make the phone call, and He’s waiting on us to take action. Sometimes, it takes more than one prayer session, maybe more than dozens of moments on our knees, because it’s simply not time yet. But we still have to make the call. And keep calling. God is there. He’s answering. And He’s listening.

This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us. And if we know that he hears us—whatever we ask—we know that we have what we asked of him. 1 John 5:14-15

So what does calling Jesus look like? Same as it looks to call anyone else.
 
I called my mom this week to debrief on all the end-of-school-year stuff. She was a teacher for decades and certainly understands what the last week in May looks like, but Mom wanted to hear about field day and how I cried when the eighth graders sang their farewell song. Jesus also has a good pulse on the calendar and is aware of what’s going on, but He wants to know about the graduation, awards ceremony, recital, concert, and service. He wants to know if there were any good snacks, how cute your kids were, how much effort it takes to keep track of all of the forms, instruments, sports equipment, and lunch boxes. He wants you to want to share it all with Him. He smiles and claps at the joy of it all. And then in the areas where this is rough—you’re overwhelmed or end of school doesn’t look the same for you as it might for “typical” families, Jesus steps in and helps.
 
Over lunch the other day, a dear friend and I reached over our sandwiches, grabbed hands, and told each other our most urgent prayer requests. She shared a hope for one of her kids. I shared something going on in our family, something that’s broken, that I simply cannot fix. She nodded, reminded me that God is in control, shared a similar situation her family went through, and promised to pray. Jesus also extends His hands to us. He listens so very well. Of course He already knows all of our dreams and all the things that are off kilter, but this gives Him the opportunity to encourage us, comfort us, to remind us that He has gone through something similar. “I was a human, too,” He says. “I had people lie to me, try to trick me, abandon me, and call me names. I watched people I love get sick and mocked and hurt. I know what your pain feels like. I promise, I’m here for you.”

The other night after I’d told all the kiddos good night, locked the doors, turned out the lights, and crawled under the covers I whispered to my husband something I did that day that disappointed me. I’d lost my temper with one of the kids, and it was eating me up. I’d apologized, but it felt like too little too late. Brett reached over, rubbed my arm and said, “It’s okay. They know you love them. Let it go.” Jesus wants to know, too. I mean He sees when things go down, and He knows when something makes us feel all yucky inside, but He wants to hear us get it off our chests, say, “I’m sorry.” And when we do, Jesus says, “It’s alright. I love you. I took care of that over 2000 years ago on the cross. Time for you to let it go.”
​
​A few days have passed since I started drafting this blog. The repairman came, but he had to order a new icemaker, so I bought a bag of ice at the store and we’re making do. The bug man sprayed for ants and said the first day we’d see more of them as they’re attracted to the bait—eww—and then they should go away. We got my car fixed, but no lie; my husband’s car has a flat tire. I couldn’t make this up. And so we keep making phone calls. Life is unpredictable and often challenging. More things will go wrong in our homes and families with our health and with our dreams, but with Jesus on speed dial, we have an expert to turn to, someone who knows how to fix All. The. Things. But even more fantastic than that—Jesus is the best listener and the ultimate comforter. Add Him to your contact list and star Him as a favorite. Praying to Jesus is the best call you can make today. And everyday.

​My mom and I were going for a walk around our neighborhood when she spied someone’s garbage can pulled to the curb with pieces of wood poking out of the lid.
​“I want those!” She proclaimed. 
“Well, take ‘em,” I encouraged. One man’s trash …
“I’ll use them for my tomatoes,” Mom declared, pulling out a few, straight, long stakes. 

​“Awesome,” I answered, because my mom loves to garden. It brings her so much joy. She literally completed our walk beaming ear-to-ear, strutting around with those sticks like a drum major leading a marching band.  My mom rocks when it comes to growing just about anything. For years, she sweetly planted tomato plants in my yard, staked them, even placed little cages around them to keep the deer from snacking. And I LOVE tomatoes, love homegrown, Ohio tomatoes in the summer time. Could eat them every night with a small sprinkle of salt, preferably with some corn on the cob from the farmer’s market. But I can’t grow tomatoes. Can’t grow any kind of plant. So year after year Mom would painstakingly plant, and year after year they would die. I never harvested a single tomato.
 
So, explain to me how these grow in my yard? I’ve lived in this house for seventeen years. I did not buy the irises. I did not plant the irises. I never think about them unless they’re blooming. And then I stand in awe. I never fertilize the ground where they grow, water them, stake them, cage them, or ponder how much sunlight they’re getting. How do these stunning irises, drenched in purple, with crazy, gorgeous flowing shapes come up year after year and thrive in the same soil where I murder tomatoes?
 
Because God.
I may be oversimplifying things. But truly, this is how God works, simply, not always easily, but always simply. He is always at work, doing unfathomable things, when we’re not capable, when we’re not mindful, when we’re not even aware.

​Right now. Today. God is working some detail, maybe dozens of details in your life that you will be able to take zero credit for. Maybe it’s a job you didn’t even know existed that you are going to be offered in a few months, and right now God is introducing you to some people who will help you in that position, having you stumble across articles that will inform you for your interview, and having the person who currently holds that job get the promotion they’ve been hoping for, so their slot will be available for YOU! Maybe right now God has grad students working in a lab making small discoveries that when added to findings scientists in another lab are making will equal a treatment or cure for the very ailment you’re battling. Maybe God just gave someone else a whopping income tax return they weren’t expecting, and is nudging them to share the wealth, and they’ll just happen to hear about your need—the mission trip you’ve been praying about, the broken part of your house you can’t afford to fix, and voila—your need will be met.
 
Maybe none of the above applies. Certainly if I knew how God was working in the secret ways of your life, it wouldn’t be as cool or mysterious or phenomenal. But I do know He is working. I know, because I’ve seen Him do it again and again, over and over. I see college students apply for internships and get turned down, because the opportunity of a lifetime is about to present itself in a few days, and they would miss it all together if they’d settled for that other thing. I’ve seen people’s cancer go in remission, houses sell, relationships mend, all because of God’s grace, not because of all of their due diligence. God swept in and said, “I love you. I have something for you.” How have you seen God work behind the scenes in the past? Doesn’t that give you hope that He’ll do it again?
 
I’m not saying we get everything we wish for. Thankfully God knows better than we ever could what we need, thus all the cool undercover work He does. I’m also not proclaiming we should all park ourselves on the couch watching Netflix and eating ice cream all summer, trusting God will do the rest. We’re still called to do our part, to take care of our bodies, to be wise stewards of our time and our finances. To use the gifts He’s given us and to use them well, for His glory. If I never sat down and wrote, well, I wouldn’t have a blog, or articles, or books. It can’t happen unless I invest the time. But I also know none of my stories would have even been read without the way God orchestrated the details. 

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. —Romans 8:28
 
So do the things you know you can do. Fill out the application. Make the appointment. And then breathe easy. God loves you. He wants you to experience a full, free life. Just like you do special things for the people you love—make them a treat, send them a card, plan a graduation or birthday celebration for them—things that take some time, some planning, some effort, God is putting together the pieces for a lovely gift for you. He might still be shopping or organizing or wrapping or waiting for the mysterious Amazon delivery person to drop it on His porch, but God is at work for you. Maybe you can’t fathom how you’re going to make the thing happen that you really want to happen. Maybe you’ve lost hope over something you felt God had in store for you, but now seems to be taking forever. Maybe your struggle is intense and hard, and you can’t see a way out or up. But God can. And He knows better than we ever will how all of the pieces should shift and flip to fall perfectly into place. Maybe there’s something so beautiful in the works, sprouting from a seed underground that you’ve never even asked for, never reached for, that you don’t even suspect is growing.
 
Maybe I can’t grow tomatoes, but God can grow irises. And, apparently peonies.
 

...if you’d like more reminders about how much God loves you throughout the week, follow me on:
Facebook 
Instagram 
Twitter

​I burnt myself with a curling iron. It’s so stupid. Brett and I actually had plans both nights of the weekend, like going out plans, and not just to soccer games. So I thought I’d fancify myself up. Clearly, I’m out of practice.

I felt the burn when it happened—searing hot. Ouch, like mmmm, no appropriate words available. But I was mid-curl, and had to finish, and get the kiddos all settled before we headed out, so I kept twirling and curling. I peeked at my wrist and couldn’t even see where I’d burned it, although it stung like crazy! Throughout the evening I kept glancing at the painful spot on my hand radiating heat, but there was still no mark. I told myself I was making a big deal about nothing.
 
The next day, the burn still hurt and the area was slightly pink, but you could only tell if you looked. Really hard. The third day, everyone I saw asked what happened to my hand. It was so weird. I felt my skin burn the moment the hot iron touched my hand, but it didn’t leave a mark for days. Not to gross you out, but a week and a half later I still have a giant scab that hurts and itches. I’m fairly certain it will scar, leaving a permanent reminder of a dumb mistake that didn’t even reveal itself until after the fact.
 
I think this is how emotional burns work.

​When somebody says something cruel, treats us like we’re less than, when we’re shamed or belittled or betrayed or let down, when we experience loss, we feel it instantly. But we’re usually busy, and don’t want to reveal that the comment or action hurt us, because you know, we’re strong and resilient. Right? So we keep on going, moving, smiling, nodding, twirling. The next day it still hurts, but the damage isn’t visible. After time the pain of the emotional burn is less front and center, but it begins to manifest itself in unexpected ways. We might struggle with sleeping, or speaking up, or getting up and trying again. We might be unsure of how to move forward or back out of a relationship. We may over compensate, give a little attitude, or withdraw.
 
And eventually we’re left with a scar. And that scar tissue is sensitive and doesn’t do well in the sunlight and there doesn’t seem to be anything we can do about it.
 
I have some of these scars. I bet you do, too. Emotional hurts that I tried to plow through, but that left their permanent mark on me.
 
I’m so grateful for a Savior that lived a life where He felt physical and emotional pain. He was physically flogged, nailed, and pierced. If you saw the 2004 movie The Passion of the Christ, you get the picture. Jesus’ friends betrayed him, denied him, gave up on him. He was always being misunderstood. So, Jesus empathizes about those scars, those hurts we have deep inside. Better yet, He knows how to heal them.

You all, I’ve tried self-help on these emotional wounds. It’s not a bad thing—it just doesn’t completely heal. Jesus does. He is the way. He is the truth. He is the light. Show Him where you hurt. Tell Him about it. Jesus understands your pain. He loves you in spite of it, and because of it. Jesus is a healer. In Matthew 11:5, Jesus says, “tell John, The blind see, the lame walk, lepers are cleaned, the deaf here, the dead are raised.” He longs to heal your burns.
 
Those scars, they may always be a part of you—marks of what you’ve learned, how you’ve grown—but the pain that caused them? Jesus longs to take it away. Hand it over to Him, and let Him spread the cool, soothing aloe of His love wherever you’ve been burned. The healing process can begin immediately. All you have to do is ask Him.