When Loneliness Lingers

My eyes widened and I forced a smile as my acquaintance—and closest relationship resembling a friendship since we moved 6 months ago—told me she and her family would be moving this summer. I took a sip from my latte to soothe the sting and plunked it back onto the red table with hand-painted yellow flowers.

It had taken months to arrange this meet up. Months of last minute cancellations—childcare falling through, a cycle of huge storms, sick kids. And now this.

As I walked to my car later that morning, one thought permeated my mind: God, why can’t you give me just one friend here?

Sometimes the loneliness was tangible. It felt as though I was the perpetual outsider watching others live in community and connection. But this wasn’t a new feeling. Having moved more times than I care to admit, this was a part of the process to establish roots in a new place. But that didn’t make it any easier.

When loneliness knocks at the door, rather than inviting it in for tea, four truths have helped me redirect my focus away from my situation and toward the Lord.

Read the full article on Hosanna Revival's When blog.

When Safety Isn’t Our Top Priority

The moment I stepped inside our third-floor walk-up apartment, I knew something was wrong. My heart raced as I scanned our dining room and noticed my work laptop was missing. Someone had also stolen two personal laptops and a digital camera—all because we forgot to shut the only window granting access to our apartment.

We lived in a rougher Chicago neighborhood because we couldn’t afford the rent prices in the nicer area a few blocks north. One block made a big difference in safety.

My husband was leaving for a one-month work trip later that afternoon. The closest family was an eight-hour drive away. I would be solo with two little ones after a break-in the police refused to come investigate—even though the thief left his drawstring bag with a package of partially eaten chips on our doorstep.

Fear consumed my mind. Why did God plant us here?

The Safety Obsession

We returned to the United States in 2015 after living overseas for four years. One common theme I noticed among Americans upon our arrival was an intense focus on safety. It was easy to pinpoint after living cross-culturally.

Parents needed to buy the safest car seat. Homes needed security cameras to deter a robbery. Neighborhoods were deemed acceptable based upon their website “report card.” Children must be positioned for academic and athletic achievement to secure college scholarships. Money must be saved for retirement.

While many of these endeavors are good and sensible, we often cross a line from living wisely to seeking to control our lives. We can quickly slide from using wisdom to guide our steps to placing our hope in safeguards that will not guarantee the type of protection we seek.

Read the full article on Revive Our Hearts.

Staying Connected in Seasons of Change

“I can’t believe it!” I squeal to my husband, Travis. Approaching a nearby pond, I spot birds from a board game we sometimes play as a family. I quicken my pace, and like a paparazzo, race around the water, snapping photos of these striking fowls. 

Last year, Travis bought our family a board game called Wingspan, in which we learned to build various North American birds. In the flap of a wing, our family’s interest in birds soared. Before purchasing Wingspan, I thought most birds were boring.  After several months, my perspective shifted, and I began to glimpse extraordinary facets of God’s creation.

Somehow God used this board game to spark curiosity and awe in the avian world outside our door. The Lord invited my family to slow down and relish the seemingly commonplace, including these airborne creatures soaring around us each day. 

But even more than that, it was an answer to prayer. I had been praying about how to bond with my boys in each season of their childhood as well as ways to connect that will last our entire lives. As God often works, he not only answered my prayer, he exceeded it. The board game provided a point of connection in my boys’ current season, but its impact was coloring outside the lines in powerful ways—ways I sensed would last for years to come.

Read full article on The Truly Co Blog.

You’re Not Too Much

As a kindergartner sometimes I tagged along to my mom’s work as a hotel housekeeper. While my mom worked, I played in the recreation room. Her boss checked on me and always had something fun to play with or a story to share.

One day, in a burst of excitement, I shared something special that happened over the weekend with the supervisor. The words bounded from my mouth like a puppy ready to play in the morning.

The boss chuckled. “Whoa, motor mouth! Slow down!”

In a split-second, my 5-year-old heart crumbled and the lie that would follow me for the next 34 years was born. You’re too much.

This lie would sometimes change its costume—You’re not good enough. No one likes the unedited version of you. But its barb plunged deep into my heart and would threaten to pull me under again and again.

Read the rest of my article on Her View From Home.

More Than the Winter Blues: Faith to Get Help

The gray Midwest winter day matched the gloom wrapping itself around my heart. Sadness loomed above me like Eeyore’s rain cloud. While saying goodbye to Christmas was always sad, the prospect of nothing ahead but the lingering cold and cloudy days stirred disappointment.

Nothing seemed to lift my spirits. My inner critic soared. I struggled to get out of bed in the morning. My energy levels dropped. I couldn’t shake this melancholy.

Why do I feel like this every winter? I wondered as I drove to pick up my kids from school.

Then it dawned on me. Growing up, my mother struggled with seasonal affective disorder. I didn’t think I ever would, but when we relocated to the Midwest years ago, my winters were marked by tears and weariness. Pushing through until spring felt more daunting with each passing year.

Perhaps it was time to admit I had seasonal affective disorder and do more than wait it out. But wasn’t my faith enough to beat this?

Read the full article on Christian Parenting.

Two Truths and a Lie About Moving

Tears stung my eyes as I stepped into our Chicago apartment. The worn hardwood floors groaned underneath my feet as I explored the empty rooms. Despite the sunny July day outside, the inside felt gloomy because neighboring buildings blocked most of the light from windows.

We had committed—sight unseen—to renting this affordable family apartment from the university for the first year of my husband’s medical school. With no air conditioning or ceiling fans, I swiped sweat from my forehead and wondered how challenging street parking would be with a toddler—whenever we bought a car.

I quieted the inner voices of family and friends who broadcasted the high crime rates of Chicago—while statistics are useful, they can also paint a one-dimensional view of complex dynamics. Everything was unfamiliar in this large Midwest city. I felt as out of place as a flower growing between the cracks on a sidewalk.

Doubt seized the moment and whispered, “How could this be God’s provision?”

Truth: God places us in our geographic locations for a purpose.

I haven’t lived anywhere for more than three years—and the past two decades have been especially full of transition. But with each international or domestic move, I marvel at how God orchestrates my location like a grand master strategically moving chess pieces. And the same is true for all of us. God has “determined allotted periods and the boundaries of [our] dwelling place” (Acts 17:26)—with all the positives and negatives each spot holds.

He moves us where he desires for whatever time period he deems right. Whether it’s pursuing a graduate degree in a sprawling city, relocating our job to a rural town, staying rooted in our hometown, or wandering around the globe—God uses it all for his purposes because he is the one who allowed it to be so.

We can trust God knows where he planted us and lean into how he wants to utilize us there for his glory. Sometimes discerning this purpose feels like summiting a mountain. Other times, it’s as natural as watching the sun rise. But wherever we land on this spectrum, God knows how many days we’ll spend in a place and the ways he will grow us into his likeness.

Read the rest of my article on Risen Motherhood.

3 Steps to Survive Seasons of Chaos

 

My life is swept up in an avalanche of activity and new responsibilities—and try as I may, I’m not swimming through the snow to the top. I’m covered underneath its weight, praying the search-and-rescue dog can find me.

Perhaps you can relate with an overwhelming sense of chaos. Duties that can’t be delegated. Events that can’t be sidestepped. Navigating new ropes. Bills to pay.

I try to avoid overthinking the concerns piling up like dirty laundry. But while I might be able to deceive myself for a short season, the symptoms of being overwhelmed gain momentum like a snowball—staying up too late to watch an episode of a show I don’t even like, a whirling mind as I attempt to rest, and little things bugging me that normally wouldn’t. This is not the Spirit-filled life, but a poor attempt to fix something I can’t with lesser things.

When life is full throttle with no light at the end of the tunnel, how can we get out of the overwhelming avalanche and back onto the solid ground of Christ? Finding ways to recalibrate our hearts and minds toward Jesus is essential, especially when we employ tactics we know we shouldn’t (Rom. 7:16).

3 Steps to Survive Seasons of Chaos

As life’s avalanches chase after and envelop us, we can learn how to weather these seasons and reorient ourselves toward the steadfastness of Christ. Here are three ways we can move toward Jesus in the chaos of life.

First, keep our eyes fixed on God. Sometimes we can breeze through busy, stressful seasons without realizing our gaze is no longer on Jesus, but our circumstances.

One indicator we may have shifted our focus is when we start to prioritize dealing with the stress rather than keeping our established rhythms, including time with God. When our first instinct is to check email or tackle something off our to-do list before connecting with God this places us on unsteady ground. And the more we embark down this path, the more tumultuous it becomes.

Just as ships can easily crash into the shoreline without a lighthouse, so it is with us. We can turn our gaze to our circumstances and sink our energy into resolving that rather than abiding in Christ and trusting Him to walk alongside us through it. When ships can’t see the lighthouse, they crash. When we aren’t fixed on God, our lives become disorientated. While we may need to be proactive regarding our circumstances, we don’t want to rush ahead without Jesus to light the way.

Practically, this means evaluating how our circumstances are impacting us and whether our hope is on God, our circumstances, or ourselves. If we are fixated on ourselves or our situations, we need to repent and ask God to redirect our eyes back to Him. As the psalmist reminds and instructs us, may we lift our eyes upward to where our help truly comes from—the Lord who is the Creator of heaven and earth (Ps. 121:1, 2). Without God, our efforts are in vain (Ps. 127:1).

Second, stay immersed in God’s Word. Auto-pilot mode can quickly kick in during stressful seasons, including auto-spend-time-with-Jesus mode. This is the mode where we rush our time with God because we feel like we have too much to do. Devotions become a to-do item on our list and the quicker we can check it off, the better. But when we fail to connect with God, our hearts remain hungry for the Spirit-filled hope only God’s Word can provide. And instead of filling up on nourishing soul food, we essentially skip what we most need to sustain us through our day. Time with God is never wasted.

As we train ourselves to slow down and savor time to meditate and reflect on Scripture, our hearts are directed toward what matters most—Jesus. We are reminded of God’s greatness and energized by the Spirit to keep trusting Him through whatever the day may bring. While we may not have extra time to devote—especially in busy seasons—we want to guard our established rhythms to read the Bible and savor God’s presence.

Third, keep swimming. When life feels like too much, it’s tempting to collapse onto the floor or check out emotionally and mentally. But Jesus never promised life would be easy. Instead He promised to be with us as we walk through each day because “after [we] have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called [us] to His eternal glory in Christ, will Himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish [us]” (1 Pet. 5:10).

God uses trials to refine our faith (1 Peter 1:6-7) and point us to His strength (2 Cor 12:9). But we are weak and prone to forgetting this. Trials remind us of our dependency on God and are a tool God uses to deepen our faith. Throughout the book of Revelation, God promises an eternity with Him for those who overcome hardships and remain faithful to Him. The only way to overcome is by clinging to Jesus.

Practically, this could mean going to bed on time—embracing the truth that we can’t do it all. Or turning off the television and spending 10 minutes in prayer instead. When circumstances threaten to undo us, we can cry out to Jesus to help us endure. And He will hear and sustain us.

Digging Out of the Avalanche

The search-and-rescue dog didn’t find me, but God did. In His kindness, the Lord redirected my eyes to Himself. The path I was on was leaving me empty, depleted, and drained. But what He offered overflowed with hope, strength, and joy. We can’t do it all or change our situation, but God is more than enough to walk alongside us through the stress and mess. (Ps. 73:25).

Chasing the Sunset

God’s Sufficiency in Long Journeys 

I snapped a last photo of our former home’s front porch before scrambling inside our 2008 Honda Fit for a family road trip from Illinois to California. After seven years in Chicagoland, we were finally heading back to our roots out West.

With our winter white dwarf hamster in a travel cage at my feet, we pulled out of our Midwest driveway for the final time and began a journey I wanted to fast forward through. Traveling 2,066 miles in four days with two boys ages 8 and 6 in a small car seemed more than ambitious. But it also was the only way to get our single vehicle across the country.

The trek wasn’t easy. Each day the last two hours seemed to drag. The last couple days, the boys’ bickering escalated in the afternoons. When making steep climbs, we had to turn off our AC. But as the miles ticked by, God surprised me with joy. 

Most of us have to embark on less desirable journeys at various points in our life—the sleeplessness of the newborn stage, unexpected job loss, the health decline of a loved one, years of educational training. But as we walk through experiences we wished we could bypass, we often discover God’s sufficiency as we wait on Him like a prospector panning for gold.

4 LESSONS ON GOD’S SUFFICIENCY

Here are four lessons on the surprising way God meets us along the arduous pathways we wished we could unsubscribe from.

1) Rest is essential.

With an anticipated minimum of 30 hours of drive time (never mind when our car couldn’t keep the same pace when climbing steep inclines), we were tempted to keep pressing onward if things were going smoothly. But whether we realized it or not, even driving can be tiring. Rather than chasing the sunset, we found our pre-set destinations a useful way to signal the end of a driving day. Then we could enjoy the remaining summer sunshine by splashing in a pool or relaxing inside our hotel room. And this unwinding prepared us for the next day.

As we walk through undesirable seasons, we must pace ourselves and acknowledge the limitations of our physical bodies. We can only apply to so many jobs before fatigue sets in. Even though it’s tempting to spend that short infant naptime to clean, perhaps rest is wiser. Pushing through fatigue rarely results in good long-term benefits. Even the apostle Paul recognized how our weakness allows God’s strength to shine (2 Cor. 12:10). When we rest, we acknowledge our dependency on the Lord.

2) Beauty exists in desolate places.

Despite the expansive, unforgiving desert that Nevada is, hidden in its midst off the side of the highway was a salt flat. Instead of unending brown, the terrain turned white with mountains in the backdrop. This simple color shift was striking. Stumbling across beauty in a dry and thirsty land during a monotonous trek sparked awe in the Lord. 

Sometimes God surprises us with beauty in unexpected places. A newborn’s first belly laugh. The scent of lilacs recalls a sweet memory of a loved one. A simple act of kindness. Even as we walk through sun-scorched seasons, God trains our eyes and hearts toward Him, the majestic Creator (Ps. 8:1).

Disappointment Can Lead to Contentment

The car was my tipping point. Seven years ago, I stood glaring at our used—but newly purchased—Honda Fit. I eyed the paint fading from its purple hood, the inside ceiling strewn with gray markings, and its dented fender. The seller had deceived us into buying a lemon. Unbeknownst to us, the car had also been in an accident—before we purchased it—and would require a costly repair.

The Honda Fit represented the turn our life had taken. Walking alongside my husband through medical school in our 30s with two kids was not the original plan. I struggled to be thankful for much of anything; contentment seemed like a faraway land depicted in a novel. But God used this jalopy-of-a-car to teach me three truths about walking through disappointment.

First, we can trust God when we face the unexpected.

That car forced me to rely on God’s provision. Twice, I was stranded on the side of the road hundreds of miles from home. On a separate occasion, I was a victim of a hit-and-run. Numerous times we had to scrounge up funds for additional repairs, and I learned to navigate various modes of public transport across the city to my workplace with two kids and a stroller. But whether it was the roadside assistance company included with our car insurance or someone offering to help carry the stroller up the mountain of stairs when the train’s elevator was broken, I could rely on my heavenly Father to meet my needs.

The book of Ruth casts light onto the provision of God. Ruth may not have articulated that her life had warped into a bad dream, but she certainly wasn’t living a life any woman would have hoped for. She didn’t expect to accompany her mother-in-law, Naomi, as a young widow into a foreign land to live (Ruth 1:22).

While my life differed from Ruth’s in many ways, I did, like her, have to choose to trust the Lord to meet my needs in a life I never expected to have. Through this new season of life, God cultivated my trust in Him even when I didn’t fully understand where this road was leading. I learned to move forward in the life I was living, rather than the one I had expected.

Finish reading this article at The Round Farmhouse.

IS THIS MY HOME?

“Are you my mother?” a newly hatched bird chirps to anyone and everything she meets in the children’s book, Are You My Mother? And while the readers know the bulldozer most certainly is not the hatchling’s mom, somehow the little bird just isn’t quite sure who is or where to find her mother. But I can identify with the uncertainty this hatchling feels. Sometimes I ask the same question over and over again: is this my home?

Home can be elusive. I haven’t lived anywhere for more than three years—much less permanently in any location for the past seventeen years. I can’t even return to my hometown because my family relocated to another state after my college days. I feel like a perpetual wanderer. Even nomads revisit the same vicinities seasonally, but I never seem to return to the same place twice.

Sometimes I imagine home as the solution to the yearning of my heart. If I remained in one place for decades, then my ministry would flourish and I’d have friendships that weather the ups and downs of life. I’d have relationships that knew me growing up, as a newlywed, and navigating motherhood. I wouldn’t be forgotten as others invest into their established lives while mine resets every few years. And the exhaustion of starting over yet again wouldn’t exist. For with each new beginning, the same question echoes in my mind: is this my home?

Desiring stability in calling a place home isn’t wrong, but we can falsely believe God is withholding good or that we’ll be satisfied when home—however we envision it—materializes. But if we turn to the pages of Scripture, a clear picture of home takes shape: home is being known by God and with Him.

Read the rest of my Velvet Ashes article.