Recently I got a massage. - a birthday gift I've been waiting to use for two months.  For me,  getting a massage is a an indulgence, and one I am not entirely comfortable with. No judgement here; it's just that I am not at all used to pampering myself in this way. As I tried to relax and breathe through the paper-lined donut that cradled my face, my thoughts bounced around like marbles in a pinball machine. It went something like this...

What a wonderful birthday gift. Today is the perfect day for me to enjoy this...it's been such a busy week.

Oh my gosh! I forgot that Bernie is at a class and Claire has to take the car to work which means that I can't pick Brenna up from school for our special date like we planned. (Insert Mom guilt over having to cancel special date here.) I'll need to call the school as soon as I leave here so they can get a message to Brenna to take the bus home.

​Relax, Becky. You are supposed to be relaxing. It's all OK. Brenna will understand. 

When am I going to go to the grocery store? I am working the next two days. 

Wow...this feels so good. When she was working on my back and shoulders a couple of minutes ago I thought that was the best, but who knew that having your arms and hands massaged could feel so good? And she is not in a hurry. She is taking her time. 

The deadline to order Claire's senior pictures is in eight days. (I'm a mom. This is how my brain works.)

As she gently worked the tension out of my body, I thought about how, over the last week, my arms had carried bags and boxes, lifted my suitcase in and out of the trunk, pushed a shopping cart, swept my hardwood floors, and wrapped themselves around those I love. I thought about how my hands had mixed and measured ingredients, prepared food for customers and family, shook strangers' hands during introductions, held a microphone, and cleaned up dog puke from our family room floor. I pictured my fingers moving over my keyboard, typing words and clicking my mousepad, holding a pen while writing up invoices and writing down appointments, never-ending to-do lists, and prayers in my journal. I pictured them scrolling through Facebook and Instagram, texting messages to people in my tribe, moving over and under as I braid my daughter's hair. 

This woman's job is to pamper and nurture people, to give them a retreat from their work and rest from the busyness of their days. I wonder what she does for a retreat? I wonder who pampers her? 

Suddenly a memory comes to mind of being with my mom in the hospital, the day before she died. Or was it the morning of? I had massaged lotion onto her legs and feet and arms and hands. I will never forget how it felt to pour out my grief and love in those moments. I didn't want to let her go. But I knew I had to.

Now I am softly crying. The woman is massaging my legs and feet, and when she touches my right foot I jerk it away. "You're ticklish! So sorry." For some reason I picture my daughter Kate's face, and I cry some more. She is a sophomore in college and I miss her. A lot.

What on earth is wrong with me? Only I would turn a massage into some sort of deep, reflective, emotionally charged activity.  This is why I shouldn't do stuff like this... 

Slowing down is hard for some of us. Maybe one of the reasons some of us don't slow down is  because we are afraid of what I just described. We are afraid of what is there, just beneath the surface, or maybe buried deep below. We don't want to remember the sad. We don't want to feel the hurt. We don't want to feel angry or scared or have to deal with our own sense of failure or rejection. We have questions without answers. So we stay busy. We go fast. We avoid what is uncomfortable.

But hard-wired into our very DNA is a need to slow down: a God-instilled rhythm of work and rest, work and rest. We were created to go and stop, not just go go go. We were designed to remember and reflect, to connect. We were made to laugh and cry and breathe and feel all the feels.

I left my appointment feeling relaxed and calm. And at a deeper level, grateful and comforted and sensitive to all of life around me. Nothing came up during my 50-minute massage that God did not tenderly hold with me. I'm grateful for meaningful work and opportunities to grow.  I love my family, my tribe, and even my dog who makes messes for me to clean up. It's been almost six years, and I still miss Mom every day. I miss Kate, away at college, every single day. Claire will be graduating in May and heading to college in the fall.  Brenna will be starting high school and honestly, it's all breaking my heart a little bit. I need to slow down enough to feel it.  Why? Because whether or not I'm aware of it , I need comfort.

In Matthew 5:4 Jesus says, "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." We cannot experience comfort without mourning. And we can't mourn what we refuse to feel. 

My guess is you've got some stuff that's honestly breaking your heart just a bit, and I'm wondering if maybe you need to slow down enough to feel it, too? It doesn't have to be a massage. Go for a walk. Sit with your coffee in the morning, just you and God. Turn off the radio when you're driving alone in your car. Turn off the TV and Pandora. Tell Alexa to take a nap. Just. slow. down. Let yourself be still. Don't be afraid of what may surface. Whatever it is, you won't face it alone. God will hold it with you. 

I am a member of a Chicago-area speaker group - a group of like-minded women who write and speak and are passionate about sharing messages that resonate with and encourage women. At our last meeting, after sharing some discouraging news I received about a writing project, a couple of these friends encouraged me to start blogging more regularly. Like every week. 

"Every week?!? I can't do that! I don't have time," I pushed back because what they were suggesting felt overwhelming to me. One of the women graciously shared her observation that if I continued to write blog posts the length of a book chapter that are perfectly edited and polished, then no, I probably couldn't pull off a blog post a week. But if I were to write short snippets, to write about moments as a mom and a writer, as a wife and a friend, and just put them out there, then I probably could write one post a week. They encouraged me to connect authentically and not worry about doing it perfectly.

When it comes to writing, I am a perfectionist. I painstakingly labor over every word, send my "book chapter" off to a few people to proof, sit with it for several days, make edits, and then often mentally debate back and forth over whether it is worthy of posting. I want my writing to be clean. More importantly, I want to say something of value. I don't just want to be another voice in a sea of voices. 

My friends convinced me to give it a shot. They know my journey. They believe in the work God is doing in and around me. These women are some of the "Mordecais" in my life. Remember him? In the story of Queen Esther, he is her cousin who was really more of a father figure in her life. When she is taken into the King's harem, Mordecai keeps his eye on Esther. And he keeps his ears open to the sinister plot developing from inside the palace to destroy the Jewish people (which included Esther and Mordecai.)

Esther may be able to do something. But it is risky. She could lose her life in the process of trying to save her people. In some of the most beloved words of the Old Testament we read this charge to Esther:

"For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father's family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?" (Esther 4:14)

We love these words filled with inspiration and courage. These words have been the theme of women's conferences, have graced the covers of books, have been written into song lyrics and sermons. 

Who knows whether everything that has happened to you in your life, the good and the bad, the blessing and the suffering, has led up to this divinely-inspired moment, when God may do something beyond what you could ever imagine? 

We so love this verse, but have we considered who said these words? It wasn't Esther; it was Mordecai, her watchful, wise, faith-filled cousin. He challenges Esther to see beyond her life in the palace. He encourages her - which literally means "to fill with courage" - to consider the possibility that God may be up to something. That maybe He has been working His plan in all of the circumstances leading up to this moment, and maybe He wanted to use Esther the queen to save her people.

Now to be clear, few of us will ever impact a nation of people the way Esther did. Mordecai's words held immeasurable influence over Esther's life, and her brave actions changed the course of history for the Jewish people. And, I am certainly not comparing myself, my influence, or my platform to Esther's in any way. But I believe that we can, in big and small ways, be Mordecai to the people God has put in our lives. 

Several friends have been Mordecai to me over the years, in various areas of my life. Truth-tellers and encouragers have helped me be brave in parenting and marriage, trust God in the most heart-wrenching situations, and find courage to say yes to things that terrify me.

We can fill others with courage. We can say, "I know your story. I've been with you through the ups and downs. I see how you have struggled and the ways you have doubted God's work in your life.  I see the fear and insecurity you have about stepping out and speaking up. It's understandable. But I also see the beautiful ways God has gifted you. I see what you've overcome. I see your faith and your surrendered heart. And I just can't help but wonder if maybe God has been working in your life in ways you haven't been able to see? I can't shake this feeling that maybe He wants to use you and your story for His purposes. Take courage! Be brave! Be bold! Together, let's see what God might do."

Who are the Mordecai's in your life? And for whom can you be a Mordecai? To whom can you speak words of truth and faith? Whose heart can you fill with courage today?
​

My daughter, Kate, is in her second year of nursing school, and she decided not to come home from college for spring break. And I am happy. It's not that I wouldn't love to see her -- I miss her and sooo would love to have her home.  I would love to have tea together in the morning and catch up on...everything. I'd be thrilled to set an extra place at the dinner table. It would warm my heart to hear the sisters talking and giggling in her room. But she has chosen, for the second year in a row, to go with her cousin, Britta, on a road trip to visit extended family. 

First stop: their cousin Rachel's house. They will spend a few days with Rachel, her husband, and their two kids. (Their dog is at the kennel because he is as huge as a horse and my petite daughter is legit scared of him.) Then they will head upstate to visit my sister, Kari, and her husband, their five kids, and their two dogs. (Their dogs are harmless little yippers, so they get to stay.)

Here is why I am happy: Rachel and Kari each texted Kate and Britta to ask them what food they want served during their visits. I know the girls are going to be welcomed and pampered and loved on.  They are going to sleep late, hopefully take a break from studying, and get their college-sized buckets filled while spending time with these families. There will be lots of laughter, deep conversations, probably some tears, and a fair amount of inappropriate humor. Rachel, Kari, and their husbands will speak words of life and truth and encouragement. The kids will splash light and love the way kids do,  and for all of it,  I am so, so grateful.

I am happy that my daughter has good people in her life. I'm glad she invests in life-giving relationships and that she knows where to go to get filled up. She has been watching me do this for years:  coffee dates and walks with friends, phone conversations that keep me grounded and authentically connected, trips with sisters and friends, nurturing relationships that fill me up. God has healed me and loved me through the good people in my life.  And to see Him doing that in the lives of my daughters and my nieces makes my heart so very happy.

I hope that my three daughters will make time to nurture their relationships in the coming years. I hope that when they are married and have children, when the craziness of family life is in full swing, wherever they may be, that they will take time for themselves. I hope they will invest in their relationships. I hope they will learn what fills them up and then be intentional about scheduling those activities into their calendars. I hope my daughters will plan get-aways together and not invite me. (OK, maybe sometimes they can invite me.)

I think our daughters are on their way, because when my husband and I asked the younger two what they wanted to do for their Spring Break (which is in a couple of weeks), they both said the same thing: "Let's go see Kate at college."
​

No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us. 1 John 4:12

I am a mother of three teen daughters. Make that two teenagers and a 20 year-old: college, high school, and middle school. My daughters have grown up in a Christ-centered home watching their very imperfect parents struggle and grow and hold on to their faith during life's ups and downs, including some really difficult seasons. They memorized Scripture in Awana and went on youth retreats every year with our church's student ministries. They have gone on multiple global service trips. Each of them have a genuine, growing faith -- a faith that began when they were children and they are each now owning as teens and young adults.

This is good news. This is really good news.  And yet, I am finding myself in this interim season, especially with the two older girls, where I am trying to figure out how to engage and have conversations about faith and culture when we don't always agree on things. I am quite clumsily navigating discussions that sometimes don't go very well as I seek to listen and understand, be heard and understood, and continue to guide and come alongside my daughters as they develop their world views and faith perspectives. 

For moms and dads, these are challenging times. Our culture is profoundly influencing our children, and if I'm honest, it is profoundly influencing me. More than ever I am aware of my need to be rooted and grounded in the truth of God's Word, and to be alert and watchful. I will be the first to admit that I feel like I'm in over my head. Sometimes it seems like our powerful cultural current is sweeping us all off our feet, carrying us along, and we may not even be aware of its pull and the direction in which we are headed. We float along as if in a lazy river, and maybe that is part of the problem. Maybe we've become lazy when it comes to seeking and upholding truth and the process of spiritual transformation. We prefer quick fixes. We want what feels good. 

Here is where it gets tricky: there is a brand of modern, progressive Christianity that calls into question the validity, reliability, and relevance of Scripture. Some groups emphasize and elevate certain parts of the Bible over others: some disregard the Old Testament or parts of it, others focus only on the words of Jesus, and some reject various passages because they do not align with twenty-first century thinking. Instead of preaching the gospel of good news that Jesus came to rescue us from sin and transform us by His Spirit so that we can know His will and live lives that please Him, another gospel is being preached. It is a gospel of self-reliance, self-promotion, and the self-seeking pursuit of happiness.  Rather than calling us to discipleship, to taking up our crosses daily and following Christ, it is an ever-evolving, ear-tickling message that fits into our culture nicely. Choose your own path. Make your own rules. Interpret the Bible however you think it should be interpreted and essentially, make up your own version of God. Because the God of the Bible confounds us and confuses us at times, and we need to make Him behave. And people are eating it up. 

"I urge you, brothers and sisters, to watch out for those who cause divisions and put obstacles in your way that are contrary to the teaching you have learned. Keep away from them. For such people are not serving our Lord Christ, but their own appetites. By smooth talk and flattery they deceive the minds of naive people." Romans 16:17-18

"All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the servant of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work." 
2 Timothy 3:16, 17
 
It is good to ask questions. It is healthy to engage our minds and our hearts as we study Scripture. But if in our questioning we are demanding answers that we agree with and approve of, answers that make sense to us and seem right in our own eyes, then we are in serious danger of creating our own version of God - one who acts and speaks and does what we think is right. 

"Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is--his good, pleasing and perfect will." Romans 12:2

"Preach the word; be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke and encourage—with great patience and careful instruction. For the time will come when people will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear. They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths. "  2 Timothy 4:2-4

I love what Peter says regarding the reliability of the message he and the early Christian leaders were proclaiming:

"For we did not follow cleverly devised stories when we told you about the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ in power, but we were eyewitnesses of his majesty. He received honor and glory from God the Father when the voice came to him from the Majestic Glory, saying, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.” We ourselves heard this voice that came from heaven when we were with him on the sacred mountain.

We also have the prophetic message as something completely reliable, and you will do well to pay attention to it, as to a light shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts. Above all, you must understand that no prophecy of Scripture came about by the prophet’s own interpretation of things. For prophecy never had its origin in the human will, but prophets, though human, spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit. 2 Peter 1:16-21

​I am in the thick of this, and I'm learning some things about my kids and about myself. I'm discovering some "what to do and what not to do" behaviors and responses (through trial and error), and I'd like to share a few of them here:

1.  Don't freak out. (I have freaked out A LOT.) It can be alarming to hear your child say things or do things that go against what you believe to be true and right. My most common reaction in these situations is to over-react. I get emotional. Sometimes it comes out in frustration and even anger, but I'm aware that under the surface I am scared. I am worried my child may be deceived by false teaching, and on a deeper level, I am scared at the realization that I am not in control.  I actually have zero control. My children will make their own choices and forge their own faith journeys. I do, however, have influence. But my influence will be severely hampered if I am reactive and emotional. My kids do not feel safe talking to me about their questions and opinions when I interrupt them and don't listen. Trust me when I say that I have messed up on this point and have botched many conversations because of my emotional responses. But it is not the end of the world, because there is this thing called grace. When I circle back and acknowledge my failure to engage well in a conversation, when, in humility, I admit when I'm wrong, when I am honest about the fact that I don't have the monopoly on absolute truth or know the answers to all or even most of our hardest questions, and when I vulnerably admit to my child my fears that lurk under my frustrations, I've seen something pretty remarkable happen.  My child sees my struggle. She sees that I am trying. She sees that I love her. By grace, we get to try again. And again, and again.

2. Don't not freak out. It's true that we should not freak out. (See point #1). But if not freaking out means that I throw my hands up in the air like I just don't care, that I remain silent when I hear things that don't align with our faith and values, that I trust somehow it will all work out in the end, and I give my children all the space in the world to figure things out on their own, then I think we need to freak out a little. False teaching should alarm us. Red flags should go up. Like a warning light on the dashboard of our car, we should pay attention and heed caution. We should pay attention to what our kids are reading and read some of these books ourselves. We should study apologetics and dig into the hard stuff. It is a huge mistake for us as parents to be silent when our kids need us to be involved. To look the other way when they still need our guidance. Even if they don't agree with what we are saying, I truly believe they want connection. There will be times when we need to back off and, for a time, maybe stop discussing certain topics or issues. But we can still engage and be present in our actions and by example. Even as our kids become adults, we can be some of the most influential people in their lives.  Hanging in there, being sensitive to timing and non-verbal cues, and showing respect by how I handle myself in the conversation goes a long way in protecting and preserving the relationship. And this is of utmost importance. Because without relationship I have no influence! When I demonstrate that our relationship is more important to me than proving a point or getting my child to see thing's the way I do, her heart towards me softens. She sees that I am not willing to give up or walk away. She sees that because we love each other and are on the same team, we keep jumping in. We keep engaging. And in my human, flawed, imperfect way, I will keep trying to be the best mom-mentor I can be.

3. Do trust God -- deeply, unswervingly, from the bottom of your heart. And pray for your children. Pray for their friends. Pray for your nieces and nephews, It really is true that God loves these children even more than we do. He cares about the state of their hearts and their faith journeys even more than we do. And unlike us, He does have control over a whole myriad of factors and influences we may not think about. He orchestrates people to cross their paths. He brings to mind truths in just the right moment. He uses anything and anyone to do His holy work, and most importantly, by the work of His Spirit, He convicts, reveals, heals, and transforms. And even if it is sometimes hard for us to imagine and believe, He uses us as parents, in all our shortcomings, to illustrate and demonstrate the gospel. He uses us in our weaknesses to showcase His strength and perfection. He uses us in our deficits and in our lack to show our kids that what they need most can only ever be found in Him. By His grace, God redeems, restores, and redirects. He holds us in His hands, and His love never fails.

4. Demonstrate biblical dependency and a commitment to live under the authority of Scripture. This speaks volumes. Living the Christian life is not about following rules and being a good person. It is about following THE person who gave His life in exchange for mine. It is about submitting myself to the Lordship of Jesus Christ, surrendering my life to His will, and placing all of my trust in Him. It is about holding Scripture higher than my own desires, opinions, and will.  None of us does this perfectly. 

By His grace, may we be found faithful.

A resource that has been extremely helpful to me: www.alisachilders.com/

             I was five or six years old, and it was Christmas Eve. At first I hadn’t seen it, but then Mom pointed again and squealed with delight, and I was sure I saw it! Santa’s sleigh and his reindeer had flashed across the night sky for a split second just as we were leaving my grandma’s house, and if it weren’t for my mom, I would have missed it! To this day I am almost definitely positive that I saw it, and the magic of that moment is something I will never forget.
     
        To say that Mom loved Christmas would be an understatement. She took full advantage of the Christmas season. The decorations came out the day after Thanksgiving, and they didn’t get put away until after New Year’s Day. She loved singing carols, sending cards, and creating an atmosphere that felt magical. In the living room, our wall-mounted record player filled our house with classic carols sung by Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra. Every year, my siblings and I drew names to buy gifts for one another, and she took each of us out individually to buy our presents. Many years, we’d end our shopping trip with dessert at the Sugar Bowl on Main Street.
       
            Mom loved to bake Christmas cookies so much that we kept an extra freezer in the garage just for storing them. We started early and baked cut-out sugar cookies, thumb-print cookies with jam, and heavenly hash, a fudge-like candy with marshmallows and peanuts. Then we plated up the goodies and delivered them to our neighbors and friends. Mom loved doing this, and our neighbors looked forward to their cookie plates every year.
       
           Money was tight in our family, but Mom and Dad always made Christmas special. Throughout the year we made weekly visits to the drive-thru at the bank, but I don’t remember ever questioning what Mom was doing when she’d put some bills in the container, send it through the tubes back to the teller, and say, “ten dollars to my Christmas Club, please.” All I really cared about was getting my sucker, finishing the candy, and then unrolling the looped paper stick to reveal a prize: a crinkled, square piece of paper. It wasn’t until years later that I realized what she was doing. Throughout the year she was saving up little by little, ten dollars a week, so she could buy presents and stocking stuffers and bake and give cookies to all our neighbors and friends. Christmas was her favorite time of the year, and she started planning for it eleven months in advance.

           So it’s no surprise that now everything about Christmas seems immensely wrong. Memories of our loved ones have a way of attaching themselves to music, movies, smells, foods, and traditions. The Christmas carols and the baking and the shopping and the wrapping— all of it reminds me of my loss. At times I feel bombarded by the sights and sounds of Christmas, and intense sadness overwhelms me.

         The first couple of holiday seasons after Mom is gone are all about paying attention to my energy level, my emotions, and my heart. I don’t send out Christmas cards to everyone the first year; instead, I send a handful of cards to the people who have walked with me on this grief journey and to a few of Mom’s friends. We make very few Christmas cookies, just enough for our family and so the girls can continue our tradition. I set aside time to be alone and grieve. It’s too painful to look at photographs, so I don’t. Brenna even asks me to take down Mom’s picture from a collage on our family room wall, so I do. I know that one day I will put it back, but it will take some time. Brenna colors a picture of Mom’s dog, Daisy, and we put her art work in the frame instead.

      That first year, we don’t attend many social events or parties. We spend a lot of time at home watching movies. I do most of my shopping online. We hang a stocking on the mantel for Mom, and whenever we feel sad or remember the previous Christmas when we were all together, we write little notes and tuck them into the stocking. We talk in advance about what Christmas Eve and Christmas Day will look like. We decide to keep our Christmas Eve tradition of going to church and then having a fondue dinner at home, but we decide to do something different on Christmas Day. After opening gifts and having breakfast, we’ll go to see a movie. Going out on Christmas will probably feel strange, but I think it is exactly what we need. We need the familiarity of some traditions, but we also need to start some new and different ones.

         We talk about Mom and tell stories. And for me, I find hope in the true meaning of Christmas. The previous year, after Mom was first diagnosed, a verse from the song “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” became my prayer for her.

O come, Thou Key of David, come,
And open wide our heavenly home;
Make safe the way that leads on high,
And close the path to misery.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

        God had made Mom’s way home safe. And the truth of Christmas is that Jesus opened wide our heavenly home. I find hope in Emmanuel, God with us.

One morning in mid December, I wake up to intense grief. I don’t want to get out of bed. I know the sadness needs attention, needs to be expressed, so I decide to do what I normally do when I need to have a good cry. Music has always been a powerful vehicle for expressing my emotions. Honest, well-written lyrics help me connect with my experiences and feelings in a way nothing else can, so I grab my earbuds and pull up the song “10,000 Reasons” on my phone. Every time I hear that song, it takes me back to that day in the hospital when Kari and I sang it with Mom. It makes me feel close to her.

          This morning, however, I have some new thoughts. What if you open the blinds and let some light in? What if you make your bed, clean up your room, and sit in the chair instead of lying in bed? What if you make yourself a cup of tea and read a couple of Scriptures from your grief workshop handout? The ideas are all about moving forward and progressing in my grief. When I open the blinds it is snowing—our first snow for Christmas. I would have missed it. I drink my tea, listen to the song, and immediately the tears flow.

The sun comes up, it’s a new day dawning
It’s time to sing Your song again
Whatever may pass and whatever lies before me
Let me be singing when the evening comes
Bless the Lord, O my soul
O my soul, worship His holy name
Sing like never before, O my soul
I worship Your holy name
—Matt Redman, “10,000 Reasons”

          This song connects me with my Mom in a powerful way, but instead of only revisiting that night on her hospital bed, my new way of grieving brings me into the present moment. I imagine Mom saying, “Yes, you can miss me and grieve—the love we have is so strong. But live today, Becky. Sing your song today.”

         Each and every day, we can choose to bless the Giver of life, the One who puts breath in our lungs and a song in our hearts. 

Reprinted with permission from Cancer, Faith, and Unexpected Joy, by Becky Baudouin, Kregel Publications, 2017.

​Order your copy here.

Sometimes people say they are thankful for the terrible things that have happened to them. Usually the idea is that the horrible things that occurred shaped them in some ways, altered the course of their lives, and made them into the people they are. Good came from the tragedy, and so the cursed problem at some point was transformed into the best thing that could have happened to them.

I admire the positivity. I understand how our experiences, both good and bad, have shaped us into the people we are today. And as a Christian, I do believe that God is working all things together for our good. When we look back on things that have happened, oftentimes we can see how things worked out and fit together. Time gives us a big-picture perspective; sometimes we reach a level of peace and acceptance so profound that even if it were possible, we wouldn’t go back and change what happened.

But can I be honest and say I’m still not at the point of being thankful that my parents got divorced or that Uncle Art died suddenly while visiting our family years ago? I still can’t bring myself to say I am thankful that my husband has multiple sclerosis or that I stuttered my way through childhood. And most recently, I am not thankful that my mom has cancer.

This honest confession does not mean that I am bitter or that I am not moving toward a place of acceptance. I believe in God’s inherent goodness. I strive to fully embrace the reality of my life, and I am most certainly shaped and influenced by all these situations. But thankful for them? Am I thankful that they happened? My answer is still no.

Give thanks in all circumstances;
for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.
1 Thessalonians 5:18

​God’s will is that we give thanks in everything—in the midst of the storm, in the middle of the trial. In any and every circumstance, in the process of whatever it is I am working through, in the place I am in right now, I can give thanks. I can give thanks for who God is and for the help he provides. This means I can be honest about my pain while giving thanks. It means I don’t have to fake my way through anything or pretend to be happy about my circumstances. I can be authentic right where I am, disappointed and thankful at the same time.

How is this possible? It might seem difficult, but giving thanks in all circumstances is not as hard as you might think. It’s rather easy actually, because the things we give thanks for can be totally random. And the more you practice giving thanks, the easier it becomes. Here is a list of ninety-nine things for which I am genuinely thankful:

1. strength for today
2. time with those I love
3. skilled doctors and nurses
4. laughter
5. tears
6. a place to lay my head when the day is done
7. hope for tomorrow
8. reliable transportation
9. texts from friends
10. Sudoku

   11.   phone calls
   12.   coffee
   13.   our church
   14.   peace in the midst of the storm
   15.   joy even in sorrow
   16.   the hope of heaven
   17.   my dog
   18.   my job
   19.   God’s ever-present help
    20.  caring friends
    21.  family
    22.  provision for today
    23.  fresh ingredients for preparing meals
    24.  a roof over my head
    25.  a day off
    26.  time to rest
    27.  that this hard day is almost over
    28.  the breathtaking sunset
    29.  a new day tomorrow
    30.  sunrise (I don’t often see it happen, but it always does)
    31.  new mercies every morning
    32.  good books
    33.  God’s word
    34.  music
    35.  chocolate cake
    36.  a leisurely walk
    37.  groups
    38.  a place to share my heart
    39.  Netflix
    40.  the snooze button on my alarm
    41.  fresh flowers on the table
    42.  medicine
    43.  hugs
    44.  a hand to hold
    45.  our furnace
    46.  our air conditioner
    47.  family dinners
    48.  my secure eternity
    49.  cards in the mail
    50.  good movies
    51.  popcorn
    52.  hot tea
    53.  a hot shower
    54.  warm coats and boots
    55.  moments of solitude
    56.  moments of connection
    57.  sleep
    58.  a listening ear
    59.  distractions
    60.  prayer
    61.  breath in my lungs
    62.  sight
    63.  sound
    64.  touch
    65.  taste
    66.  sisters
    67.  daughters
    68.  brothers
    69.  husband
    70.  Mom
    71.  Dad
    72.  soft blankets
    73.  groceries to carry in from the car
    74.  photographs
    75.  memories
    76.  love
    77.  forgiveness
    78.  healing
    79.  silence
    80.  indoor plumbing
    81.  health insurance
    82.  Mexican food
    83.  pasta
   84.  anything with white wine sauce
   85.  piano music filling our home
   86.  a fresh coat of paint
   87.  Google
   88.  ice water
   89.  hand cream
   90.  words
   91.  meals from friends
   92.  comfort
   93.  God’s steadfast love
   94.  salt and pepper
   95.  fresh herbs
   96.  a tidy house
   97.  light
   98.  a gathering of friends 
   99.  that I never walk alone 

You see, once you get started, it’s not all that hard to keep going. 
Gratitude opens our eyes to the many gifts God gives. He is always good, and when we recognize his goodness, when we lift up our souls to him and give him praise, even in the most difficult circumstances, we are helped and he is glorified. 

​Reprinted with permission from Cancer, Faith, and Unexpected Joy 
by Becky Baudouin, Kregel Publications, 2017.

​Order your copy of Becky's book here.

Getting started...sometimes that's the hardest part. I painted our front door this weekend. I've been thinking about it for months. I had wanted to do it last spring, but the temperature and humidity and my confidence never quite all aligned the way I needed them to. Changing our door from white to black seemed like a pretty bold move, and my fear of not doing it well kept me from starting the job. 
​​

This weekend I decided to just do it: the weather was too perfect
to pass up. I prepped the door, spread out my drop cloth and  supplies, and wrestled my way through taping off the doorway with
a tarp in spite  of a breezy start to the morning. And then the  moment  I had been avoiding for months came when I had to dip
my brush into the jet black paint and brush it on the stark white door. Once the bristles hit the door there was no turning back.

I was committed. So I did what I am growing accustomed to doing.
I kept going. I kept moving forward, smoothing out the drips,  correcting my mistakes, and then patiently waiting for the paint
to dry. Then  I honestly assessed my  work, asked others to give their  feedback,  and determined my next steps, which in this case meant a second coat the next afternoon. The result is a shiny new door, and a splendid sense of satisfaction. 
​ 
Getting started is often the hardest part of the process.

​A few years ago, I decided to see a counselor to work through a trauma I experienced as a young girl. I didn't want to begin the process of remembering, of looking at what happened, and more importantly looking at how an incident thirty-some years ago was affecting me -- had been affecting me -- in significant ways. The pain was coming out sideways in my marriage, parenting, work relationships, and friendships.

And though it was very difficult to begin that process, it began my healing. I remember leaving after my first appointment with the therapist thinking, what did I do? I feel worse and more hopeless than ever. I don't think I am ever going to be okay again. I opened up a wound that is too big, too painful, and I've never felt more unwell.

But I believe pain is the pathway to healing. That the only reason God allows pain to get get stirred up in our lives is because He wants to heal us. So as I unwrapped what I had kept hidden for so very long, I kept telling myself, God must really want to heal me or He wouldn't be leading me down this road.

And two and a half years ago, after I had gone to a writers'  conference, sent out my book proposal, and knocked on  every door I knew to knock on, the hope of having my  book  published seemed dismal. 

My friend, Steph, said, "Well, you've written it, though,  right? I mean, you could publish it yourself. You did write  it,  didn't you?"

I told her that no, I hadn't written it. I had my drop cloth  laid out with all my supplies, I had everything prepped and  ready to go, but the thought of dipping my brush in the  black paint and touching it to the white door was too  scary.  What if I couldn't do it? What if it was terrible?  What if I failed?

The moment came when I had to start writing. I wrote more than I knew was in me. I told my story. And at what seemed like the twelfth hour, two publishers said yes within a week of each other. I said yes to one, and then they told me my manuscript was too short. I needed to double the length. Begin again?!?

My editor wrote, "Here comes the pep talk. I reviewed your book and think it is beautifully written. You've woven your story in with life lessons in such a way that the reader has learned and grown before they even realize it...Thank you for sharing your story. I have the feeling there is more beautiful material where this came from. Now's the time to dig deep and find it."

And so I began...again. And I wrote the rest of the story -- more than I knew I had in me. 

It has been one year since the release of Cancer, Faith, and Unexpected Joy. This process has been a gift, because I have grown and people have been helped. More than ever, I believe in the power of God to heal our hearts as we share our stories. Here are some of the comments I've received from readers, either in reviews or in my inbox. I cherish these words...

"Have you ever had a moment when you felt Gods hand on you, literally on you, telling you that you are understood and everything will be ok? I did just then. The first half of your book blew me away, not only your telling of your story, but of our parallels. You needed to write this not only for yourself, but clearly for others! I could literally list the similarities of your story to mine. Let’s just say you made me feel better and right at home. And no longer afraid, which I didn't know was possible."  -- Kari

"I just finished your book and I wanted you to know how moving it was for me to read. I have struggled for years and years to find faith - I have not been able to take the leap and just let go to it. Your words and your mom's words have brought me to a place where I think I might be open to it again. "  -- Lori

"Just finished. Wow! That was a lot of work for you! To live it, articulate it, portion it out, tie neat bows around each chapter....and discussion questions? It must have been like a kind of Mt Everest climb-beautiful, challenging, worthy, invigorating-but it could also kill you.  Lol/not really.
I am appreciating all of the time that went into it. And that says nothing about the "heart mining" and vulnerability that went into the guts of this book.
All in all, it's not really about the "marathon runner" kind of endurance it took, or the writing skills necessary....it's about the love of God and the love of your mom, weaved together like a DNA strand and giving your readers a visual of life in and with Him. Thank you." -- Sue

God is the Master of begin. In the beginning God created...everything....out of nothing. In an epic display of creative power, He splashed color and texture and life and love. And He knows about beginning...again. Resurrection. Redemption.  Restoration. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland. (Isaiah 43:19) and Look, I am making everything new! (Revelation 21:5)

Today I am thanking God for supplying the courage to begin, the strength to persevere, and joy as we find healing and beauty in the midst of pain. 

​And I am beginning again...the process of pouring our my heart and splashing words on a screen. I am writing a book for moms -- a book to encourage, build up, and come alongside with humor, honesty, and grace. Stay tuned for updates! And from the bottom of my heart, thank you for walking this journey with me. 

How about you? What are you beginning? A new project? A growth process? A new chapter? Or maybe you are beginning, again,  a hard conversation, extending forgiveness to someone who hurt you, steps towards getting well, surrender. May you find courage and strength in the One who is making all things new.  

The last several months have been extremely painful for our church. Allegations against our founding pastor led to his early retirement in April, And in the last ten days our lead pastor, teaching pastor, and our entire elder board has resigned. 

Our family has been a part of this church for twenty years. We have raised our children here. We have embraced and have been embraced by a loving community here. We have found help and support in our times of need, engaged in thriving ministry, and have felt incredibly blessed to be a part of God's work at and through Willow Creek Community Church.

And yet...it has become increasingly clear there are some gaps between what we believed to be true about our church and our pastor and some of our leaders and what has actually been true.

Over the years, thousands of us "Creekers" have done and continue to do the hard work of processing our grief, recovering from our addictions, and reconciling our broken relationships.
We have been taught to own our brokenness, to lead out of our brokenness,
​to come to Jesus and come clean and keep coming week after week.
It is incredibly disheartening to learn some of our top leaders did not choose to walk those same paths of vulnerability, authenticity, accountability, and integrity.

And yet...I have hope. Many of us who are left are realizing God is not done with our church.
Our new interim pastor is stepping into a colossal mess, leading us through a dark night, pointing us all to the only one who can redeem this brokenness -- Jesus.

But we must first acknowledge our mess. We must begin with acknowledging
the gaps that exist in our church, in our families, and in each of our lives.
We must own the gap between the way things ought to be and the way they really are,
between who we want to be and who we presently are. 

After we were married, Bernie and I lived in London for a couple of months.
"Mind the gap" is a famous phrase used at the London Underground.
​It is an audio or visual warning alerting people who use the subway to be wary of the gap 
between the train and the platform so they don't trip and hurt themselves or someone else. 
It is a constant reminder to pay attention to the gap.
​Be aware of the gap. Don't ignore the gap.

The health and life of our churches and our families
and our personal faith walks have everything to do with how we handle these gaps.

If we deny the discrepancies, if we cover up our sin and try to hide our brokenness, we will reap a harvest of destruction. This is playing out before our very eyes. But if we are willing to learn and grow, to live authentically in a trusted, caring community and be honest about our junk, to repent and surrender, we will find freedom.  But freedom does not come easily. It demands we each do the hard work of "walking in the light as he is in the light" and calls for an all-out,
radical commitment to the process of transformation by God’s grace. 

There is a family I love, a family who means the world to me and my family, who has been struggling for a long time. We just happened to be with them not long ago when the wheels came off. They didn't choose that moment when we were with them; they simply could not bear the crushing weight of their burden and pain one second longer. We surrounded them with grace and believed for them that God would make a way. They are making some right, hard choices. They are choosing to be honest about their brokenness. They are choosing to be vulnerable and not pretend things are OK when they are so obviously not.
​They are choosing not to hide their mess, but rather to lift it up to God in the presence of safe, loving brothers and sisters in Christ and cry out for healing. And healing is coming.
God is making a way for them through this storm. I have hope for this family I love,
because God is a God who heals. It's who He is. He makes all things new. 

I believe this and know it to be true because He has done it in my family and in my marriage and in my life. He has done it through Willow Creek Community Church over the last twenty years.

"This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you:
God is light; in him there is no darkness at all. 
If we claim to have fellowship with him and yet walk in the darkness,
we lie and do not live out the truth. 
But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another,
and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.  
(1 John 1:5-7 NIV)

As for Willow, I am choosing to stay. I have hope for this family I love,
that as we do the holy work of acknowledging our mess,
as we fix our eyes on Jesus, as we walk in the light, as he is in the light,
we will be healed. Our good God will make all things new. 


​

Recently my husband overheard me talking to my friend on the phone, and he laughed out loud when I told her I was feeling anxious about an upcoming talk I am giving at an event. He laughed because after confessing my fear I told her the theme for the evening:  "Be Not Afraid."

It made me laugh too. It's a funny irony that I feel scared to talk about fear. What is not funny, however, is the fact that fear has been a companion of mine for most of my life. And I know I'm not alone. 

We struggle with general anxieties, phobias, catastrophic thinking (I'm especially gifted at this one), fear of rejection, fear of failure, and fear of the future. We fear change, and sometimes we fear that things will never change. 

Fear is that voice that is always asking, "What if..."  

And for all of our fears, the Bible says there is one answer. There is one force that is stronger than all our fears, and its presence is so powerful, it chases fear away.

1 John 4:18: "There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear."

In other words, when love moves in, fear moves out. The two are opposing forces and incompatible roommates.

Clearly, he is not talking about human love. The text says "perfect love." Human love can be wonderful, beautiful, and tender. But perfect? No way. God's love is the only love that is perfect. His love is unchanging, never-failing, limitless, unconditional, and primary. He loved us before we could do anything worthy of being loved, before we could earn it or deserve it.

I love the apostle Paul's prayer in  Ephesians 3:16-19:

"I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith.  And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge..."

His love for you and for me is boundless, without limits, and beyond what we can grasp. We need the help of the Holy Spirit to even begin to comprehend the length and depth and expanse of his love for us. The Message says it like this:

"And I ask him that with both feet planted firmly on love, you’ll be able to take in with all followers of Jesus the extravagant dimensions of Christ’s love. Reach out and experience the breadth! Test its length! Plumb the depths! Rise to the heights! Live full lives, full in the fullness of God."

When love moves in, fear moves out.

So the question for each of us is this: What is keeping me from trusting, receiving, and living securely in this love?

Is it shame? Bad theology? A jaded perception of love because we have been hurt? Sometimes we see God's love through the lens of our circumstances. If God really loved me, he wouldn't have allowed ___________ to happen.  If God loves me, he will ________, or he won't allow _____________. We make his love conditional based on our flawed human experiences, and fear moves in and takes up residence in our hearts. Fear whispers to us that we will be rejected and find ourselves alone. It tells us that we will not be loved if we fail.

But God says:
"Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you." (Hebrews 13:5)

"Nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:39)

"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." (Lamentations 3:22-23)
​
Prayer is my word for 2018. And this prayer from Ephesians is working its way into my mind and my heart, into my dreams and my waking moments. I am practicing the discipline, when I feel afraid, of stopping and asking myself a couple of questions: Where do I need God's love to displace my fear? What is keeping me from being rooted and established in his love?

May the perfect love of God fill our hearts and drive away all our fears. May we grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ for us. And may we live full lives, full in the fullness of God. 

Where do you need God's perfect love to displace your fear?

A couple of weeks ago during a radio interview to talk about my new book, Cancer, Faith, and Unexpected Joy, the radio host asked me about my grandmother. I wrote about her in a chapter called “Ripples”, and since he had recently lost his grandmother, he connected deeply with this part of my story. I wrote about the way my grandma’s life made ripples in my mom’s life, and how both of them rippled on me. Their faith in God impacted me in profound ways and my grandma’s faithful prayer life was inspiring. Here is an excerpt from that chapter:
 
       
         Grandma enjoyed a long life, rich with close friends and family relationships. You could usually find her in the kitchen, cooking and baking our family’s favorite recipes, and preparing meals for people going through some sort of difficult time. She had a true gift of hospitality, and she often opened her home for prayer meetings and bible studies. You could talk to her about anything and everything, and her favorite advice to give was, “Pray on it.” She practiced what she preached.
            Her body outlasted her mind, but at ninety-two years old, though Alzheimer's had clouded her memory, her heart and her beautiful character were unmistakable.
             A few months before she died, Mom and I went to see her in the nursing home. That particular day she was clearly somewhere else—another time and another place. She said she was praying about quitting her job. She wanted to spend more time with her family, and she was tired from working so much. She kept talking about what she was going to prepare for dinner. She loved to cook for her family—some of our favorites were her pot roast with perfect gravy, and pumpkin bars with cream cheese icing. That day in the nursing home, she kept asking when I was going to take her to the grocery store and what time everyone would arrive. As she was talking, another resident who had that same faraway look in his eyes wheeled past our room a couple of times and then parked himself right there in the doorway, just looking at me. Neither he nor I knew what to do. Grandma noticed him, looked at my mom and me, and then said discreetly, “Well, don’t you think we should invite him in, maybe offer him some coffee?”
            That day I saw clearly that, with or without Alzheimer's, three things were true about my grandma. She was a woman who prayed about everything. She prayed for guidance, for strength and for those she loved. She prayed for me every day for decades. And now she needed me to pray for her.
 
                    _______________________________________________________________________________________

And I did pray for her, every morning before I got out of bed. I prayed that the nurses would have the patience and strength they needed to care for the residents. I prayed that God would give Grandma peace amidst her confusion, that He would protect her, and that He would take away all her fear. I prayed that in His time, He would make her way home a peaceful one. When I awoke the morning after she died, the first thing I thought about was praying for her. After doing this every day for several months it had become a routine. And then I remembered that she was gone. I was simultaneously hit with sadness and relief—sadness that I would not see her again this side of heaven, and relief that she no longer needed me to pray for her. She was whole and free and of a sound mind. She was home.

But the truth about me is that my consistency in prayer during those couple of months was not something I have often been able to pull off. My grandma had a running list in her bible, and my mom did too, and every day they prayed for the people on their lists. I have tried—believe me when I tell you I have tried—to pray like this. Regular, steadfast, faith-filled prayers that become as much a part of my daily routine as brushing my teeth. But if my dental hygiene mirrored my consistency in prayer, my teeth would probably have fallen out by now.

I know we are all gifted and wired in different ways, and my grandma had a true gift for praying for others. She was passionate about it. I pray throughout my day, asking God to give me guidance, wisdom, and clarity. I pray breath prayers. God, show me Your ways. Give me the help I need in this moment. Lead me into your truth. Fill me with Your peace. Use me and my story to encourage and bring healing to others. I rely on Him in a very personal, real way as I interact with people and process all that goes on around me and in me. I listen for His voice and try to discern His direction. And I also pray for others as needs arise. I pray for my husband and my children, and often times my phone conversations with my sister and my best friend end with, “Let’s pray together.” Because I am very relational, I find it meaningful to connect with God while praying with someone else. But can I just be honest and say that when it comes to prayer I have some hang-ups? When it comes to prayer, there is a lot I don’t understand. So when the radio host asked me how my grandma’s faithful prayer life impacted me, I felt grateful for her example but also aware of my desire to grow in this area.

Many of my friends choose a New Year word rather than making resolutions. I love this because right off the bat it diminishes my fear of failure. Instead of setting a goal that I most likely will not measure up to, the idea is that I choose a word that I will focus on, an area where I desire to grow, or a quality that I want to cultivate. My word for 2018 is prayer.

It was my word last year, too. I wanted a more vibrant, consistent, powerful prayer life, so on 1/1/17 I opened my brand new prayer journal and taped our family Christmas card on the inside of the cover. It has a collage of photos, and I thought that seeing the faces of the people I am praying for would be helpful. I wrote down names of my immediate family members, extended family members, friends, neighbors, people in my life for whom I desire to pray. I wrote out my prayers. And for a few days I did it. I prayed through the lists and then…I stopped. It felt repetitive and stale. It felt ritualistic. And it seemed like the more I tried to push through the doubts about what I was doing, the more the doubts grew.

• God is sovereign. He does what He wants when the time is right, and He knows what is best, so why do I need to ask Him or tell Him what to do?
• I’d pray certain scriptures for my family members and then think, Are these prayers a guarantee that if I say certain words nothing bad will happen to those I love?
• My list included loved ones for whom I’ve been praying for years—people in situations that have not changed or improved. People who have not experienced healing. It can feel hopeless. If God wanted to answer these prayers He would have done so already. So how then should I pray?
• If I had a speaking engagement or a big deadline or a lot on my plate on a certain day I’d think, Becky, with the day you have ahead of you, you’d better make sure you have a good quiet time this morning so you are ‘prayed up’. But why? Because if I didn’t God would somehow be less present with me throughout my day, and less willing to help me?

I told you, I have some hang-ups. I’ve realized some of my thoughts about prayer are performance-based, conditional, even superstitious.
                       
So this year, I’ve decided I need to start where I am. I am like Jesus’ disciples. They had been trained in the faith—many of them had been trained in rabbinical studies, and they knew the Scriptures and prayers. They would have had no problem praying at the end of small group or saying the blessing before a meal. They would have known the right words to say, appropriate prayers that fit the occasion and sounded good. And yet, after watching Jesus pull away from the crowds and pray in private, after watching him pray for others, after watching Him interact with His Father and be filled with the Spirit, they said, “Lord, teach us to pray.”

Humility. This is where we start. This is where I am starting. I went to Sunday School and youth group. I went to bible college. I’ve read books and been in more bible studies than I can count. I’ve been praying for over forty years. But Jesus, teach me to pray.

The Lord’s Prayer (or the Our Father) is found in Matthew 6 and Luke 12, but before Jesus tells his followers the words they are to say, he tells them the posture with which they are to approach God, the attitudes they are to cultivate.

Matthew 6:5-8— “And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. 6 But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. 7 And when you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words. 8 Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.
 
Jesus reminds them to whom they are praying—their Father in heaven who sees them, who loves them, and who knows exactly what they need even before they ask. And then, after He sets the tone for prayer, he gives them words. He gives us words. Just to be clear, God doesn’t need our words—He knows what we want to say before a word is on our tongue. He reads our minds and knows the intentions of our hearts.
 
Psalm 139:1-4— You have searched me, Lord, and you know me.
2 You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.
3 You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.
4 Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely.
 
Jesus gives us words because we need them. We need a way to hold up what is in our heart to God. We need words to communicate our longings and our needs and our hurts and our pain. We need words to connect us to the One who made us and who knows us, and to express our love and gratitude to the One who loved us first.
 
Matthew 6:9-13--“This, then, is how you should pray:
“‘Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name,
10 your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.
11 Give us today our daily bread.
12 And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.
13 And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one.
 
This prayer is comprehensive. And I don’t think Jesus is telling his disciples to just recite these words every day. Rather, He is showing them how to pray, how to shape and form all their praying so it includes worship, surrender, seeking God’s will above all else, and lifting up our daily needs to God our Provider. He teaches that in prayer we are to be reflective as we consider our own sin and our propensity to sin, our need for forgiveness and deliverance from our self-seeking ways, and our need to forgive those who have wronged us. We turn inward and we turn upward.
 
So this is part of my journey in 2018, and I will be sharing more in the coming months. I want to learn how to pray. I want to become a woman whose life is shaped by prayer. I want to make ripples and carry on the legacy of my mother and grandmother in a way that is authentic and true to the way God wired me. 

Are any of you looking to grow in similar ways? What is your word for 2018? I’d love to hear your comments…