Jesus' struggle in the garden began earlier than that moment when we see him anguishing in Gethsemane. After the crowd welcomes Jesus, blessing him on what we celebrate as Palm Sunday, we see him teaching his disciples. He is trying to prepare them for what lies ahead.

John 12:23-28:
Jesus replied, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. Anyone who loves their life will lose it, while anyone who hates their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.Whoever serves me must follow me; and where I am, my servant also will be.My Father will honor the one who serves me.

“Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name!”

In these moments we see teacher Jesus masterfully describing death and resurrection using the analogy of a seed.  But then he moves from instructional to vulnerable. He gives his followers a front row seat to both his humanity and his divinity. He knows why he came. He knows what must happen. Yet his soul is troubled. Even here we see that he is sifting through conflicting thoughts.

Between these moments and the garden we see Jesus teaching, washing his disciples feet, sharing final words as he partakes in the last supper he will share with his followers. He tells them to love as he has loved them. He warns them to not falter in faith. He comforts them.  He reminds them that he is the Way, the Truth, the Life, and the only way to the Father. He promises the Holy Spirit and admonishes them to remain in his love. He calls them friends. And then he prays. He prays to be glorified. He prays for his disciples and for all believers. Which means he prays for us. 

Matthew 26:36-39  records Jesus' prayer in the garden:
Then Jesus went with his disciples to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to them, “Sit here while I go over there and pray.” He took Peter and the two sons of Zebedee along with him, and he began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then he said to them, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me.” Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.”

In her book The Prayer Coin, Daring to Pray With Honest Abandon, Elisa Morgan says this about Jesus' two-sided prayer: "Two opposite pleas pierce Jesus' final night on earth before the Father. On the one hand, he leans human. On the other, he surrenders divine. That he does both at once is stunning."

Jesus was honest and vulnerable with his Father. He was honest and vulnerable with his friends, asking them to come along and pray with him. And at the same time, his will was surrendered to his Father's. He was strengthened through vulnerable, surrendered prayer. Moments later, when he is being arrested, Peter strikes the high priest's servant, cutting off his right ear. Jesus commands Peter, "Put your sword away! Shall I not drink the cup the Father has given me?" (John 18:10-11)

Jesus lived a life of prayer and he invites us to do the same. He invites us to bring it all--our fears and struggles and sorrows--and pour it all out. He invites us to be as honest as humanly possible with our Father who knows us and loves us. And he calls us to total surrender, not to our will, but to his. Then he strengthens and empowers us to do his will--his good, pleasing, and perfect will.

"Do you have any regrets?" It's a question that is often thrown out to celebrities during interviews, and more often than not the response is some version of, "Not really...No. Because everything that has happened to me has made me the person that I am today."

Umm, is it just me or does this drive anyone else crazy? If a regret is defined as something we have done that, given the chance, we would go back in time and undo, or do it differently, then I have a million regrets. A million hurtful words I've spoken in my lifetime that I wish I could un-speak. Countless times I've lost my temper and  acted selfishly. Things I've done that I would love the opportunity to undo. Things I should have done but didn't, and would love a do-over. Regrets: how can anyone say they don't have any?

I'll lighten it up a bit since I tend to get deep and serious real fast. I regret that I never ate an avocado until I was in my twenties. In my defense, I don't think they sold avocados in northern Michigan where I grew up. And I didn't immediately love guacamole the first time I tried it. But I loved chips, so I kept dipping them, and before long I was totally, head--over-heels in love with avocados. Like, how could I have lived all of these years without you? I put them on salads and sandwiches and toast. I think one of the best things you can eat is a flame-toasted corn tortilla with avocado and a sprinkle of salt. (I'm hungry now...I'll be right back.)

Also, I regret so much that I waited until I was 47 years old to try dry shampoo. How could I not have known how fantastic this product is? All those years I was living in ignorance with oily hair, not knowing what I was missing.  Not knowing how much I needed avocados and dry shampoo in my life. (I wonder if a diet high in avocados tends to make your hair more oily...)

But seriously, the good news about regrets is grace. Grace takes our failures, redeems them, and makes them part of our story. Grace reminds us that we are forgiven. That we are loved apart from our performance or what other people think of us,  Maybe this is what people mean when they say they don't have regrets because everything that has happened to them has made them who they are. Or maybe not. 

I only know that for me, I am grateful every single day for God's grace that covers my shortcomings, and for opportunities to make things right when I get them wrong. I'm thankful I can live free from the guilt of regrets even while acknowledging their existence. (Did I mention how much I regret that we arrived late for my aunt's wedding years ago? The wedding was in Minnesota and we got lost on the way to the church. Worst. Feeling. Ever. And also, that my wonderful aunt is one of the most gracious women I know, so...grace extended, grace received.)

How perfect that I married a man from Mexico. Avocados are to his family what Ranch dressing is to mine. My daughter made avocado brownies a couple of weeks ago. They were weird, but it shows how very much we love avocados in our house. And with three daughters, it was only a matter of time before dry shampoo found its way into my bathroom. 

​

I was pregnant with our middle daughter, Claire, the first time I stepped inside the beautiful Harbor House Inn in Grand Haven, MI. Our extended family was watching the musical fountain show over the water on a beautiful July evening, and I had to go to the bathroom. (I was in my second trimester with my second daughter which meant I had to go to the bathroom every five minutes). As soon as I walked through the front door I was in love. The Victorian Inn was beautiful, charming, and felt more like my Aunt Carol's house than a hotel. And when the Innkeeper graciously agreed to allow me to use the powder room I decided my husband, Bernie, and I needed to return -- as guests.

That fall we did just that. Shortly before Claire was born, we dropped our firstborn, Kate,  off at my mom's and celebrated our anniversary at our first (and only) bed and breakfast. And over the last twenty years we have visited this inn more than a dozen times. It has changed ownership and management. It has gone through some significant renovations. But they still provide the same homemade caramels in little longaberger baskets in the rooms and serve the same cinnamon bread for breakfast. They still have a DVD library of classic movies we've never seen and DVD players in every room. They still serve tea and coffee and freshly baked peanut cookies every afternoon, and the view of the bay is breathtaking every time. 

Kate now goes to college in West Michigan, about twenty minutes from Harbor House Inn, and Claire has recently finalized her decision to attend the same school in the fall. So as we are navigating the challenges and joys of launching our daughters, we are finding a gift in proximity. Brenna, our youngest, is happy to stay with her sisters on campus which means Bernie and I are enjoying overnights at HHI more and more often. 

Our most recent visit during spring break left me overflowing with gratitude. As Bernie and I enjoyed a beautiful dinner at Snug Harbor with a gorgeous view of the bay, as we watched the sunset sky change from gold to orange to pink to purple, I was overwhelmed by God's goodness to us. Having the girls leave home has been hard. As we are launching our kids into the world, time seems to be launching Bernie and I closer and closer to the empty nest season of life. I'm finding a mix of emotions, including sadness, excitement, and anxiety. But mixed in with all those emotions is a deep sense of gratitude that we are moving into this next phase of parenting together. 

Harbor House Inn is a romantic place. And Grand Haven, MI is beautiful and picturesque. But the honest truth is that our visits over the years have not always matched the lovely ambiance. We have gone through some extremely painful seasons in our marriage, and I can remember the decor of the room we stayed in one year when our visit was marked by pain and tears. After that visit we considered not coming back. We felt like maybe those hard conversations had tainted a place we had loved so deeply. 

But we came back. Because in a life-long marriage that is what you do. You come back to the hard places. You revisit the hard conversations. You pull back the bandage to expose the wounds so there can be healing. And as you grow and mature and heal, you find you are able to extend more grace and see the gifts that have always been there. 

Bernie and I are far from perfect. But I am thankful beyond words for our history in this Victorian Inn. I'm thankful for God's work in us and in our marriage. I am thankful for the friends and family who have walked with us through some hard seasons. I'm thankful for our daughters who have given us reasons to persevere through hard times. I want to tell young couples to not give up. I want to tell parents in every season to fight for your marriage. I want to encourage you if you feel hopeless. And for those of you who find yourselves heading into the empty nest season (or another season) without your marriage intact, without your spouse by your side, I want to remind you of God's grace. Even in your most profound disappointments, God is with you. He walks with you. He will never leave you. He splashes His love and faithfulness in vibrant colors across the sky for you and for me.

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.