Indholdsfortegnelse for November/December 2023 i Mornings with Jesus

Every year I get excited for Thanksgiving and Christmas. As soon as I pull out my fall and Thanksgiving decorations, the vibe in my house changes. The fragrance of holiday candles fills the air as I plan get-togethers with friends, cook up a frenzy, and look forward to time with my family. This year, however, the holidays are going to be different. My oldest son graduated from college in May. He is officially on his own, with a full-time job and apartment in Ohio. He has started his journey on adulthood and so far has navigated the inevitable bumps that come with it. I am one very proud mama. My son went to college in Ohio, about eleven hours from where I live. I've become accustomed to seeing him sporadically…

I'M A LIFELONG “GOOD GIRL.” I like following the rules and doing sensible things, but recently I've been experimenting with badness. Now, now, don't worry. I'm not doing anything despicable or dangerous. I'm just being mindful of not being so painfully perfectionistic. I'm not being compulsively careful to the point of obsession. Not being pitifully people-pleasing to the point of saccharine. In short, I'm trying to leave my scrupulosity behind. Scrupulosity is a form of obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) involving religious or moral obsessions. Somewhere along my Christian journey, I picked up some irritating image of who I was supposed to be. Airbrushed niceness, perfect neatness, conscientiousness that got precariously close to haughtiness. I also apologized for the slightest real or perceived offense. When God brought my own scrupulosity to…

MY FRIEND RAINA, WHO WORKS for a college ministry, told me a simple illustration she uses to explain grace to college students. She described how her daughter, Ellie, had snuck some of her younger brother's candy from trick-or-treating the night before. Raina and her husband decided to take Ellie's iPad away for a week. After discussing it further, they thought this would be a great opportunity to teach Ellie about mercy and not give her the punishment she deserved. Unexpectedly, Ellie provided Raina with a sweet description of grace. They sat Ellie down and said, “Stealing your brother's candy was wrong, but we want to extend mercy to you this time and not give you the punishment you deserve because Jesus offers us mercy rather than punishment.” Ellie, clearly relieved,…

ONE OF MY BEST FRIENDS, Jess, has been homeschooling her son since he was in the first grade. She felt it was God's will to enroll him in a private high school to make the transition to college easier. He was recently accepted to several schools for next year, and the touring process has begun. As much as Jess knows this is what God wants for her son, it's ripping her heart out just thinking about letting him go. They've shared her son's educational journey every single day for years. In 1 Kings 17, the widow of Zarephath has only enough food for one last meal for her and her son in the midst of a famine. Regardless, she extends Elijah hospitality, makes a meal, and offers him the upstairs…

LAST WEEK WE COVERED A lot of miles. I had a follow-up medical appointment three states away. My husband, Mike, and I drove farther and faster than ever before to complete the trip in four days. Yes, we were road-weary, but otherwise, this trip was a joy! Through the endless horizons of Wyoming to Colorado's Rockies to the ocher hills of New Mexico and Arizona's high desert, we traveled. Snow, fog, and ice kept us on our toes. We prayed for safety—and even one time for the gas to last until we reached the next service station, which thankfully, it did. The speed of this journey played so much beauty through our windshield. There were overnight stays with soft linen-lined beds, booked on my phone from the passenger seat while…

“YOU NEED TO REST.” My friend's emphatic words left little room for argument. “You're still doing too much. It's okay to just be.” I liked the idea of sitting and reading or watching TV. Even taking a nap and shutting the world off. But I always felt guilty. I am a “striver.” I keep myself busy—too busy—doing all sorts of things. My husband is the same way, so after tackling one big project after another for years, he and I decided to strive to stop striving, to let things be, to just be. I loved the idea, but doing it was unfamiliar territory. Just as being constantly busy doesn't always work for me, life doesn't work as well when I overcommit, don't set boundaries, and run my brain and body…

AFTER HIKING FOR A FEW days with some friends, I stepped up a small stair leading to our front door and my knee painfully popped. I went in for an MRI, convinced I had a piece of cartilage floating around in my kneecap, but I was wrong. I had arthritis in my knee. All I had to do to prevent the pain was to stretch. Stretching leads to flexibility in our bodies, but isn't being flexible a good characteristic in life too? “Blessed are the flexible for they shall not be broken” is a saying some refer to as the new beatitude. I'm certainly inflexible at times, stubborn with the plans I devise. If I were more pliable, it would be much easier for myself and my loved ones when…

MY COUSIN, SAM, TOLD ME he and his daughter were researching the family to learn more about their heritage. Sam and I share maternal grandparents. We know the stories of how Madear and Papa met in Mississippi as children, got married as teenagers, and made their way to Missouri to settle there with their three daughters. With determination and faith, my grandparents made a good life for themselves and their family. My conversation with Sam made me think about diving into the family genealogy too. Wouldn't it be great to know more about past generations and how they connected to me today? While it would be nice to trace my roots and learn more about my ancestors, I do know the most important thing: My grandparents knew and loved Jesus.…

MY PANDEMIC YEAR AS A non-career high school teacher vividly reminded me: Boundaries are loving, not punitive, selfish, or mean. I was hired to teach English during the historic 2020–2021 school year. After months of isolation, a string of teachers, COVID-19 stress, and related drama, the students were confused, scared, and acting out a lot. Many were facing problems at home too. An enthusiastic novice teacher, I resolved to be firm, patient, and loving. I did really well being loving and patient. I want to say firm, too, but that's not true. With misguided compassion, I gave the kids too much latitude. I was endlessly patient with disruptive behavior. I didn't strictly enforce homework deadlines. I gave out candy just because. Halfway through the term, I had a bunch of…

WHEN WE MOVED, SEVERAL FRIENDS brought orchids as housewarming gifts. These stunning flowers adorned our kitchen windowsill for a couple of months until the blooms dropped off, leaving decaying twigs. Knowing nothing about orchids, I assumed they were dead. Then I read that if you are patient and wait long enough, the flowers will bloom again. This caused me to wonder, What else in my life am I waiting for? I hope my adult sons marry and give me grandbabies. I'm anticipating several loved ones will become believers. And, like all Christians, I'm awaiting Jesus's return. Am I waiting patiently and confidently? Not really. I tend to expect immediate results, even from these orchids. And as time goes on, my confidence fades. But this is not the attitude Jesus desires.…

WE'D JUST SPENT MANY LONG hours traveling from New Hampshire to Wyoming with the goal of enjoying the magnificent scenery of the Cowboy State. Yet, my husband's eyes were glued to the road as he drove around the windy curves of the Teton mountain range, and my eyes were fixated on our GPS, trying to direct him to our hotel. We were so focused on getting to our destination, we forgot to look at the landscapes. As I pulled back the drapes in our hotel room the next morning, we both gasped at the spectacular view: puffy white clouds suspended in a deep, cerulean-blue sky, with a spectrum of greens and grays smattered across the majestic mountains. How could we have missed this the day before? It made me wonder…

TODAY I CORRECTED A THIRTY-YEAR-OLD error. While sorting my craft room post-move, I found a tatted collar I'd never finished (think Ruth Bader Ginsburg's lace embellishment to her judicial robes). I'd made a join in the wrong place on the third and last row, then failed to notice before closing the ring. For all you non-tatters, tatting is a series of half hitches on a core thread, which is straight or looped. A wise tatter checks carefully for errors before closing a loop. Pulling the core thread slides it through the knots, turning the loop into a ring. This act is irreversible. The loop can't be enlarged again, nor can the stitches be pulled out. Since the only way to save it was surgery—carefully cutting out the errant ring—I stuffed…

I'M A DETAIL PERSON. I enjoy the feeling of satisfaction when every little thing is done with precision. Oftentimes, I focus my attention on the trivial instead of on what's important, and I tend to miss the big picture. I pour my time and energy into small touches, making them priorities. Like the Christmas I spent a significant amount of time wrapping gifts and making the packages look spectacular. The presents were unwrapped in nanoseconds. All my hard work lay discarded in a heap on the floor. In Jesus's day, the religious leaders were more concerned with touting spiritual pieties than practicing godly virtues. When Jesus healed people on the Sabbath, the religious leaders were appalled and showed no compassion toward those who came to Jesus for healing. They were…

FOR MY BIRTHDAY IN NOVEMBER, my husband bought me a vinyl copy of Nat King Cole's Christmas album, The Christmas Song. My mom loved that record. She used to play it on our console record player each Christmas when I was a kid. The music brought back such good memories. Christmas carols are, hands down, one of my favorite parts of the holiday season. When I was growing up, our family sang them together, both in church and at home. We even went caroling with Mom's side of the family around my grandparents' neighborhood each Christmas. The world feels a little more full of wonder when I sing along to Christmas music. I can only imagine what it must have been like for the shepherds in the field the night…

WITHIN THE SPACE OF TWO weeks, one of my family members was diagnosed with cancer and three friends died suddenly. The barrage of bad news filled me with grief, but it also reawakened my awareness of, and appreciation for, the good news of Jesus Christ. On the night of Jesus's birth, an angel heralded long-awaited news to a group of shepherds: the promised Messiah and Savior had come. This news, the angel said, was good and would bring great joy to all people. The apostle Paul later dedicated his life to spreading the same message to Jews and Gentiles alike. Like the angel, he also called it good news and described it as “the power of God at work, saving everyone who believes” (Romans 1:16, NLT). Believing and embracing the…

WHEN MY CHILDREN WERE YOUNG, my mom went all out at Christmas. She arrived at our doorstep with boxes full of gifts for her grandchildren. Sometimes she'd number the presents so the biggest and best one was the last to be opened. Our living room filled with wrapping paper, bows, and exuberant squeals of glee. Since our home was a modest size, I kept reminding Mom that one gift per child would be plenty, but she would have none of that. She epitomized how to “lavish” blessings. This morning, I prayed for Jesus's help before an online meeting. Everything went better than I'd expected. No technology glitches and a productive discussion. After signing off, I looked at my plans for the rest of the day. I wanted to ask for…

WHEN I WAS A CHILD, my grandfather built a Ferris wheel in his backyard for my cousins and me to enjoy when we visited. Soon after, my father used his carpentry skills to build a swing set for our yard and a toy kitchen for our playroom. Even now, the sound of tools banging and pounding wood into wonder still reminds me of my idyllic childhood. To me, a man with well-used tools and calloused hands is worthy of respect and admiration, yet every Christmas, I'm reminded that not everyone saw it that way. Though Jesus's earthly father, Joseph, stands as a pillar of strength in the Christmas story, his label as a carpenter made it hard for some to believe that Jesus could ever be worthy of their worship.…

HARDLY ANYONE SPINS ANYMORE. If you look up “spinning” online, exercise bikes and fishing equipment come up in the search. I'm a hand spinner. I make yarn from fiber, both animal and vegetable. I have a spinning wheel, but most often, I spin using a hand spindle, a wooden tool that people in Bible times would recognize. I like the way it feels. It's meditative and rhythmic, lending itself to contemplation. Prayer. It also results in an abundance of yarn. The past few years, my yarn turned into thick, warm mittens for the Mitten Christmas Tree at the library in Munising, Michigan, where those who don't have very much can choose whichever pairs they like. The women in the knitting group just keep making more. Makers often become givers. After…

GOD SENT HIS SON TO die for us. That is love. It's the last Sunday of Advent and today's fourth candle stands for love. I can't understand the kind of love that would do that. Myself? I believe I could lay down my life for my child, partly because of my experience caring for mothers of gravely ill newborns in the neonatal intensive care unit. Many of the mothers told me that if they could trade their life for their child's, they wouldn't think twice. They meant it and I believed them. The world doesn't work like that though, no matter how much they wished it could. Their love gave me a glimpse of God's love. For me. For us. For each precious one of us. Maybe God loves each…

LIKE MOST YOUNG WOMEN, I had an idyllic view of what married life would be like. We'd buy a home with a picket fence, have two or three kids, and immerse ourselves in a stable community that would nurture us for decades. Instead, however, my life has been characterized by new starts. Due to pursuing graduate education and employment opportunities, we've lived in six different cities since we've been married, and our son has attended seven different schools. Each move is like ripping off a Band-Aid as we say goodbye to beloved friends, hoping that our next stop would be our last. I've learned that although starting over is hard, it's sometimes necessary to fulfill the call of Jesus on our lives. The Apostle Paul did more than start over;…

THERE IS A DEFINITE HUNGER among ladies for authentic, loving, and encouraging relationships. That's why I'm so excited for Sister Table to begin this fall … It was the last day to sign up, so I decided to read the email one more time before deleting it. The invitation indicated it was a nofluff, good old-fashioned, “let's break bread together” gathering. We'd lived in Louisiana three years with only two more to go before retirement and another move. I hadn't tried very hard to make friends here. Seven women will meet in someone's home once a month for six months. I really didn't need to add another activity to my schedule. Besides, I already attended my church's midweek ladies' Bible study. Not a Bible study, there will be deep conversation…

THE BUMP ON MY JAWLINE was starting to swell. I'd had problems with it several years ago, but this time was different. The painful protrusion was nearly the size of a golf ball. It started to affect my sleep and movements. I applied hot compresses to help relieve the swelling and sensitivity, but it quickly became apparent that self-treatment would not be enough. I needed to see a dermatologist. At the appointment, the doctor told me I had an infected cyst. The good news was that it could be treated with antibiotics and later removed. The bad news was that I would always have a scar on my face. My choice was to live with a scar or stay in pain. I wanted to be well and have the cyst…

I SCROLLED THROUGH MY FACEBOOK feed and stopped on an image that took my breath away. My friend Ron stood in front of a stranger. Head bowed, Ron had a stethoscope in his ears. One hand was on the stranger's shoulder. His other hand held the bell of the stethoscope over the man's heart. Instant tears blurred my vision. Months earlier, Ron had lost his teenage son in a horrific accident. I didn't have to read the text above the photo to understand that Ron was listening to his son's heart giving life to another human being. As I stared at the picture, I wondered what Ron must be thinking at that moment. Please take care of my son's heart. Remember what I lost so that you could have a…

TODAY AS I PICKED GREEN beans from our backyard garden, I started to giggle, remembering my first attempt at gardening. After years of apartment living, my husband and I were thrilled to have a big backyard. We'd planted a variety of vegetables, and I waited eagerly for my green beans to appear. Yet as weeks passed, I still didn't see any beans. One day, I crouched down to pick up something I'd dropped and brushed aside one of the bean plants. I yelped and fell backward because a weird growth was under the leaves. When my heart stopped pounding, I took another look. Beautiful straight beans dangled under the leaves. As a novice gardener, I'd never thought to search under there. I often walk through life with that same sort…

MY FATHER EMERGED FROM HIS closet with a jewelry box and set it on the table in front of my siblings and me. “This belonged to your mother,” he said. “Go through it and take whatever you want.” We opened the box and peered inside to find an assortment of rings, necklaces, bracelets, and earrings scattered along the plush, velvet lining. My heart swelled. Who would have guessed that a box filled with such treasure had been buried in the back of our father's closet for more than two decades? We spread the contents before us and feasted on the beauty of the glittering gold and sparkling jewels. At the end of the night, we each went home with several pieces of jewelry that our father had safeguarded for us.…

MY CALENDAR BELONGS TO JESUS. By that, I mean I regularly invite Him to remove any activity or assignment I've planned apart from His approval, add whatever He wishes, and rearrange my schedule to accomplish His purposes. While living with our youngest daughter to help her through the last trimester of her risky pregnancy, I struggled to keep up with my regular workload. The deadline for this year's assignments for Mornings with Jesus was fast approaching. I had no idea how I would make it, and I envisioned working late into the night to finish on time. One day, I received a phone call from the editor to say she was taking another position. Then she asked how things were going with my assignment. I told her life was crazy…

I WASN'T BORN WITH THE “love to clean house” gene. So when a friend showed me her robotic vacuum that nearly ran itself, I convinced my husband we needed one. I love to watch this miracle gadget spin over floors and carpets. It inhales all the dirt in its path, pivots when it hits a wall, and plugs itself back into the charger when it's finished. I also love having a clean floor without lifting a finger. Nevertheless, our new toy requires more involvement from us than we'd hoped. It needs rescuing if it catches on fringe from a bedspread or hits a carpet snag. We also need to empty the canister after each use. That vacuum reminds me a bit of me. I need to grow in many areas.…

I'VE BEEN DRIVING SINCE I was sixteen, and I consider myself a good driver. I'm not aggressive, but I'm cautious and have good reason. The memory of my daughter Melissa's accident when she turned left against the traffic is forever emblazoned in my mind. She was broadsided, resulting in painful injuries and the total loss of her car. One day when I was leaving the mall, I considered turning left, but traffic was heavy. So I hooked a right into the entrance of an automatic car wash, figuring I could turn around there. Imagine my dismay when I discovered that once I was in the car-wash line, there was no turning back! Stone barriers on both sides of the drive prevented me from changing my mind. I was trapped! Starting…

IT'S LAUGHABLE HOW MY HUSBAND and I keep checking the front porch to see if a package we're expecting has been delivered yet. In anticipation of its arrival, first one of us, then the other, peeks out the front door. Repeatedly. We act like a couple of kids anxiously awaiting presents on Christmas morning. Bordering on silly in our unveiled enthusiastic anticipation of said delivery, we keep an eye out for this expected event. It's a little embarrassing, because I'm not nearly so vigilant in my watching and waiting for the day of Jesus's return. On that day, I won't get a tracking notification from FedEx or UPS. We recently sang a song in Sunday school inspired by the story of the ten virgins waiting for the bridegroom (Matthew 25:1–6).…

HAGAR WAS A TEENAGE EGYPTIAN slave who served a rich man's wife named Sarai. Sarai was desperate for a child in her old age, so she did something that was culturally acceptable—she arranged for her husband, Abram, to sleep with Hagar. If that union conceived a child, Sarai would legally become his mother. Her ploy worked but drove a wedge between the two women. Hagar fled to escape abuse. As she sat alone in the wilderness, the angel of the Lord appeared, addressed her by name, and spoke with her about her situation. When the divine encounter ended, Hagar called God by the name El Roi, “the God who sees me” (Genesis 16:13). My heart goes out to Hagar when I read her story. At the same time, I find…

“IT'S NOT ALL ABOUT YOU!” I've seen that phrase used a lot lately: the title of an article in a psychology magazine, a piece in a business periodical, editorial and opinion articles in more than one major newspaper, and also a pop song. In our age of self-absorption, perhaps it's good to hear that reminder from time to time. I recently read the first chapter of Colossians and found a reminder of Whom it is all about. I listed everything the passage teaches about Jesus. Here are a few points: He is the Creator, the head of the body (church), the firstborn from the dead, and preeminent in everything. Through His blood, He made peace and reconciliation between God and humans possible. I wrote in my journal: This passage is…

I WAS PRESENTING A WORKSHOP at a small facility without technology, so I packed my laptop and portable projector. In a moment of brilliance, I grabbed an extension cord. Good thing, because the electrical outlet was several feet from the presentation area. I unpacked my equipment, placed it on the table, and connected the laptop and projector so they could communicate for the presentation. Next, I plugged the extension cord into the electrical outlet and stretched the other end to the table to plug in my electronics. But there was a problem. In one hand, I held the three-prong plug on my laptop cord. In the other, a two-prong plug-in. I checked the projector cord. Three prongs. Without the ability to tap into the electrical source that I literally held…

RECENTLY, OUR CHURCH MUSIC DIRECTOR invited me to help with the Christmas program. My pulse quickened. It was a project I would have loved to be involved with. But before saying yes, I took time to pray. As I laid this opportunity before Jesus, He reminded me of all the commitments on my time. Images of my other responsibilities whirled through my mind. I had said yes to many projects recently. It became clear that I needed to decline. As I prayed, I told Jesus about my disappointment, maybe hoping He would supernaturally add a few extra days to my calendar. Couldn't I help with the Christmas program anyway? After all, it was a worthy endeavor. Instead, He reminded me that by stepping back, I would allow someone else an…

QUESTION: WHAT DO ZACCHAEUS AND the woman with the bleeding disorder have in common? They both got more of Jesus than they bargained for. Curious Zacchaeus climbed a sycamore tree just to get a glimpse of Jesus as He passed by. Jesus called to him and announced that He would be Zacchaeus' houseguest. That visit transformed the tax collector (Luke 19:1–10). The desperate woman who had bled for twelve years simply wanted to touch Jesus's robe to be physically healed. But Jesus had more in mind. After she got what she thought she wanted most, Jesus drew her out of the crowd for a face-to-face conversation. She left that personal encounter spiritually healed as well (Luke 8:42–48). Sometimes, I act like I only want a little bit of Jesus in…

WE LIVE ON THE HIGH Plains of Wyoming, but I can see the faded outline of Nebraska's bluffs from my kitchen window. I'm not sure how far away they are, but one rainy day I passed by the window and my breath caught. Those bluffs that had always been in the distance looked close enough to hike to today. I've lived in places with far horizons—the west coast of Florida with its fiery sunsets and the south shore of Lake Superior with its dark skies and northern lights, but here in Wyoming it's three hundred sixty degrees of big sky. I know immovable objects don't move, despite their appearance. What I seem to see is a trick of the light. My brain estimated distance by clarity. The recent rainstorm washed…

EVERY YEAR, I'M ALWAYS AMAZED by the news stories I read and hear about the massive light displays people put up for the holidays. Homes outlined with thousands of colorful, flashing bulbs, sometimes synchronized to music, could easily give the bright lights on the Vegas strip or Times Square a run for their money. I can't help but wonder who has time to do all that? I also wonder how the neighbors feel about the crowds that gather to view such marquee-like exhibitions, not to mention the crush of accompanying traffic on their street. As a child, I was thoroughly impressed by the holiday light shows I saw as our parents drove my siblings and me around working-class neighborhoods and well-appointed suburbs. The sparkle of various displays drew oohs and…

NOTHING SAYS CHRISTMAS LIKE FRUITCAKE, right? People either love it or hate it. I didn't care much for it when my childhood neighbor Augie offered me a piece. I visited him at his care facility and he cut me a slab. I might have fudged a little when I said it was delicious. That next week, a fruitcake arrived on my doorstep with the card, “To Blondie, From Augie.” I decided I loved fruitcake. Augie and I went all the way back to my toddlerhood. He and his wife, Merry ’O, and three children lived next door to me and my family. During our visits, we'd reminisce about the old days in Sunset Addition, our neighborhood cookouts, camping at Cow Creek, the friends we missed. My daddy had died years…

“HOW MANY CHARACTERS CAN I have on a personalized license plate?” I asked the clerk. “A maximum of seven,” she said. “When you choose a phrase, go to the alabama.gov website, and see if it's available.” I played with combinations of letters, numbers, and spaces to create positive messages—“B LIGHT,” “INSPIRE,” “HAPPY 1,” and “I SMILE.” It was December, so I added “JOY2WLD” to the list; it quickly became my favorite. My little red Beetle now proclaims the good news of Christmas all year long and offers encouragement to drivers stuck in traffic behind me. Isaiah foretold the coming of Jesus seven hundred years before His birth. In Isaiah 1–39, he presented God's warnings to the people of Israel. But in Isaiah 40, he switched to a tone of grace.…

I WATCHED A RECENTLY GRADUATED nurse coach a young mother who was learning to breastfeed her newborn. An older colleague criticized the nurse for her newfangled techniques and the young mother who couldn't get the hang of it. That longtime nurse was sure they'd both fail. They didn't. I imagine the mother related better to a younger nurse who was close to her age and learned quickly. Mary was probably in her teens when an angel announced she would bear Israel's long-expected Messiah. Mary was told who the Baby would be, what He would do, even what to name Him. With all that information, the young woman knew a very important detail had been omitted: How could it be since she was a virgin? The angel explained that the Holy…

HAVE YOU EVER BEEN SURPRISED with a Christmas gift when you didn't have one for the giver? When it happens to me, my first impulse is to think fast and try to save face by presenting a gift too. I don't know who I think I'm fooling. I'm sure my facial expression shows the truth. Instead of being honest, my impulse is to prop up a false image of myself, revealing my sinful heart—selfish and proud. God surprised humanity with the gift of His Son. Those who came to see Baby Jesus humbly worshipped. The shepherds ran to see Him—it never occurred to them to shop. The wise men, told ahead of time they'd be meeting a King, came bearing costly gifts. All were well received. Jesus has surprised us…

I LOOKED AT THE GIFTS I'd unwrapped, and smiled. My loved ones had given me an exquisite piece of jewelry reflecting my faith, a book, a cat puzzle, and a cozy blanket. More than the joy the presents would bring me in the future, I relished how well my family and friends knew me. Every item reflected my passions, from Jesus to my pets to snuggling up with a good book or puzzle. It was obvious they'd spent time considering ways to delight me. It says in James 1:17 that every good and perfect gift is from above. I believe those people I hold dearest are gifts from the Lord. He knows me inside and out. He provides me with what and who I need, and also delights me, feeding…

THIS PAST YEAR, I RECONNECTED on the phone with my friend Missy from college. We spent most of our conversation laughing, then Missy began to share all that Jesus was doing in her life. In college, we had both taken multiple mission trips. She wanted to follow Jesus and the path He had for her. While Scott and I were working in youth ministry, she and her husband, Davis, were on staff with Youth with a Mission. In the last few years, Missy and Davis ended up in North Carolina founding a creative institute that helps anchor young people in Jesus's truth. The way that Missy follows Jesus inspires me. Nothing really prepares us for the twists and turns that life takes. But she is always ready to yield to…

WRITING MATERIALS FOR WOMEN'S BIBLE studies has grown my faith and deepened my understanding of who Jesus is. Before and during the writing process, I immersed myself in research using the Word of God and recommended Bible study tools. Without fail, I discover gems I've overlooked despite reading particular passages numerous times. Take, for example, the story of Jesus's transfiguration on the mountain. As Jesus engaged in conversation with Moses and Elijah, “His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as the light.” Then God spoke from a cloud saying, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!” (Matthew 17:2–5, NIV). Peter, James, and John witnessed this and fell facedown on the ground in terror. They'd walked, talked,…

ALL FOUR OF MY GRANDCHILDREN have some variation of brown eyes, but Roman's eyes are the darkest. Around age four, he would gaze in my face each time I visited and say, “Nana, I wish I had blue eyes like you and Mom, ’cause blue eyes are better.” I always answered, “Oh no, Roman, you have eyes the color of rich, fine chocolate. And what could be better than that?” He never seemed convinced, and that made my heart a little sad. Then, on a day trip, I entertained Roman and his older sister in the back seat with a bag of Peanut M&Ms, giving them clues to guess what color I had just poured into my hand before they ate it. On Roman's last turn, I used a fill-in-the-blank…

IF YOU WERE TO STOP by my house today, you'd notice two things. First, the washing machine is running (with a large family, it always is). Second, I struggle with being compassionate to myself in the middle of the mess. I'm critical of myself when I can't keep up with tending to the household chores, homeschooling kids, and other projects. Even though I added more responsibilities as we grew our family, I still felt the need to keep the same standards. Yet, no one expects me to keep everything in perfect order, especially Jesus. Compassion for myself has grown as I've understood Jesus's compassionate heart toward me. A few years ago, I was in the laundry room sorting through piles of dirty clothes when I cried out to Jesus, “I…

LIKE MANY OTHERS, TODAY I will visit cemeteries, placing flowers and flags at the graves of those selfless soldiers who gave their lives defending our American ideals. They represent the best of the best, a human almanac of something bigger, something almost holy— courage, strength, and a depth of love for the United States that few of us can fathom. God says in Joshua 1:9 (NIV), “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.” I wonder if these men and women held those words in their hearts as they entered battle. Did they realize that no matter the outcome, or how great the sacrifice, they could bravely fight knowing…

MY HUSBAND, SCOTT, AND I do things differently. I'm a morning person. He's a night owl. I like my coffee with a little milk and no sugar. His looks like melted ice cream in a coffee cup. I'm a pickup-everything-in-the-house-straighten-every-room type of cleaner. He is a deep-clean-like-your-life-depends-on-it guy. I come at life's problems from an emotional viewpoint. Scott is a problem-solver. I feel like I'm missing out on life when I take a nap. He loves naps with a passion. After almost twenty-five years of being married, we know we need to work hard to understand each other for the sake of our relationship. Early on, we argued about our differences, which only pulled us apart. When Jesus created the world, and us, He gave each of us our own…

A TREASURED FRIEND, WHO IS now a resident of heaven, used this signature line on all her emails: “Have a happy day. The Son is shining!” So many people connected it with the authenticity of the way she lived her faith that the phrase was part of her memorial service video presentation. I miss her, so I conducted a word search of my archived emails. Hundreds of messages appeared on the screen with that faith-filled signature line, speaking to my heart today, even though she's gone. What was Jesus's signature line? The last words He said on the cross were, “It is finished” (John 19:30), and the final words He said to His disciples before ascending into heaven were, “But you shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come…

RECENTLY, MY FAMILY AND I drove to a funeral. The 1,540-mile drive was mostly uneventful, although it was not without heart-pounding moments. We maneuvered around a ladder in the roadway, swerved around several blown tires, and avoided speedy eighteen-wheelers that sometimes drifted out of their lanes. However, the toughest part of our drive happened when the sunny sky turned dark within seconds and unyielding sheets of rain crashed down onto our windshield, blurring our vision. After a while, the rain thinned out. The visibility was still low, but we could see that the darkness wasn't going to last much longer. The people of Bethsaida undoubtedly heard that Jesus had the power to heal the blind. They were not timid about bringing a blind beggar to Jesus, and they weren't too…

MY SON PIERCE JUST STARTED attending a respected Christian high school, well-known for athletics. He's a solid basketball player and highly motivated, but like me, Pierce can sometimes get in his head and overthink situations. At a recent game, he took an awkward tumble mid-pass. He recovered, but it was obvious he was downcast and distracted the rest of the game. Debriefing with him on the ride home, he said the coach urged him to let go of errors quickly because they only undermined his game going forward. Coach told Pierce to shake off mistakes and simply keep pressing ahead, focused on the ultimate goal. Great advice for an athlete, and for a believer like me. I have sometimes gotten bogged down and even paralyzed by the mistakes I've made…

I TOSSED AND TURNED AT night, mentally writing an email to a family member with whom I'd had a conflict. My words would explain my position, ease the tension, and all would be well. At least that was what I told myself. The next morning, I opened my laptop to compose the email, and I felt Jesus whisper, “Wait.” Argh! But I was ready to make her understand me. “Why?” I asked. Gradually, Jesus helped me see my true motives. I wanted to be liked by everyone. I wanted to make myself look reasonable—be the bigger person. I wasn't truly focused on understanding my family member or resolving the conflict at all. I wanted her to understand me. I needed more time in the Word, more time at Jesus's feet,…

THIS PAST WEEK, I'VE BINGE-PLAYED my old vinyl records, dancing as I prepare meals, enjoying the reminders of younger years. My favorite band is the Beach Boys. I belt out their lyrics and ace the harmonies. Why? Because no matter how many years pass or where we choose to live, I'm still a California girl. Their songs speak to me of summer sun, sand between my toes, and tall waves booming along the beach. The scenes conjured up by those tunes are dear to me, as natural as watching a surfer ride a wave. These experiences are part of who I am. Like those California roots, my faith is planted deep inside. It's the most important characteristic of my identity, a component that can't be erased or altered by time…

I HAVE A LONG-RUNNING OBSESSION with Handel's Messiah. Each year after Thanksgiving, I find out where I can catch a performance of the Christmas classic. I usually gather some friends for a free Messiah sing-along at a local church. Sometimes, we get tickets for a presentation of the work in the grandeur of the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington, D.C. When I first started going to hear Messiah many years ago, the moving music captured my attention more than the lyrics that come from the Bible. But now I pay close attention to the words and how they tell the amazing story of Jesus's coming and what it means to humankind. One of my favorite parts of the sacred oratorio is from Isaiah 9:6. There's…

“OUR HOPE SIGN IS GONE!” my husband exclaimed with a furrowed brow. “It was there when I left for work this morning, and now it's not. You didn't move it, did you?” “That can't be,” I muttered and went outside. Sure enough, our Christmas decorations were missing. I stood with my mouth agape, remembering how the red, glittery letters had sparkled in the spotlight, proclaiming HOPE to the entire neighborhood. Now the spotlight merely illuminated the emptiness, mocking our Christmas cheer with Grinch-like pleasure. “Who would steal our hope?” I cried. Even as the words spilled out of my mouth, the irony of the situation fell on me like a suffocating layer of fresh snow. Our barren yard mirrored my soul, once so full of optimism. Over the last several…

I CAREFULLY ARRANGED THE TOY nativity set on my hearth—stable, angel, donkey, camel, wise men, cow, sheep, Mary, Joseph … “Baby Jesus is missing!” I exclaimed. Yes, the piece that depicted Baby Jesus in a manger was glaringly absent from my display. My granddaughter played with the set yearround, so I felt fortunate to have located seventeen pieces. But we just couldn't have a nativity scene without the centerpiece. My husband and I searched in toy boxes, in buckets of bath toys, under furniture, everywhere. In the end, we found Baby Jesus in the sandbox. God told the people of Judah to search for Him with all their heart. They must have felt far from Him. They had ignored His multiple warnings to turn from their evil ways. Now, they…

DURING THIS CHRISTMAS SEASON, ONE word has landed on my heart and become the theme of my preparation and celebrating. It's not what you'd expect. I've never seen it on ornaments, Christmas napkins, or wreath banners. It's not joy, hope, noel, or peace, which are all good words, but not the one I'm focused on this year. It's grace. The Bible states that grace was given, promised to us, before the beginning of time. Imagine! When Jesus stepped into the world as a babe in Bethlehem to live among us and ultimately prepare for His earth ministry, His sacrificial death, and His miraculous resurrection, the promise was finally realized. Jesus equals grace revealed. The world hadn't merely been waiting for hundreds or thousands of years. It had been waiting before…

THIS PAST WEEKEND, MY FRIEND Natalie and I delivered baby presents, diapers, and a stroller to an expectant refugee mom here in Boise through our ministry partnership. One of the great joys of giving those gifts is seeing the looks of wonder and gratitude on these expectant moms' faces. Most are excited about holding their new little one close to their heart, and these practical gifts make that imminent moment seem more real. What could be more exciting than welcoming a new baby into the world? A promise fulfilled. When Jesus came into the world, He wasn't just the sweet baby Mary was waiting to hold close. For centuries, the nation of Israel had been praying for the arrival of the Messiah, but Jesus wasn't the King they expected. He…

WHEN I STARTED working in the NICU, I learned that critically ill babies couldn't eat by mouth. Their digestive systems were immature, and, because of the risk of life-threatening complications, they were fed intravenously. Back then, we met most of their needs that way but not all. Their unused digestive tracts and bones atrophied. Some babies fought breastfeedings when they were finally physically able to receive them. Many mothers felt rejected by their little ones when the babies refused to nurse. Years later, research led to a surprising solution—early feeding of the mother's colostrum often within an hour of birth was beneficial, even when the baby was very tiny or ill. A few drops of this first milk were swabbed inside the baby's mouth, causing powerful immune factors to spread…

MY OLDEST SON, MAT, was five months old when he commando-crawled for the first time. We'd put up the Christmas tree, hanging breakables on the low branches, laughing to think this would be the last time, for a long time, they'd be out of reach. Mat was on his tummy, pushing up, surveying the room. I remember the instant he caught sight of a shiny, gold Christmas ball dangling from a branch. Always in motion, he froze when he saw it. Without losing a beat, he set out to possess it. Arm over arm, knees sliding, he low-crawled with great determination. He wanted that ornament like he'd never wanted anything in his short life. He reached his hand in the air and lost his balance. Rolling onto his back, he…

I'VE ATTENDED THOUSANDS OF BIRTHS in my nursing career. During my time as a neonatal nurse practitioner, I arrived for high-risk deliveries ahead of time to check equipment and discuss plans with the team. Sometimes, we were called to Labor & Delivery following the birth—no problems had been anticipated but, for whatever reason, the infant wasn't transitioning well to life outside the womb. Birth and transition can be difficult for babies. They've been “practice breathing” with amniotic fluid, but they've never experienced air. Space is at a premium at full term, and the birth canal is tight. The babies turn, extend, and descend, gradually entering the outside world. The squeezing they experience serves a purpose, helping expel the fluid inside their lungs. Some babies sail through the process, while others…

ON THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS last year, my husband and I caravanned with our daughter and grandkids across several states to spend a week at their house. On the way, my daughter, Holly, announced she planned to listen to all the Christmas music and watch all the Christmas movies she could get in. The holiday planning had been more stressful than ever with her husband deployed and four kids busy with activities. I smiled. Surely she would want our help taking the tree down and getting the house in order. But she was serious. As dry pine needles dropped, we watched classic Christmas movies, some of which I'd never taken the time to see. Christmas music played in the background while we tackled board games. I baked the Swedish Kringler…

OUR NAVIGATION APP DIRECTED my husband and me through unfamiliar parts of St. Louis. “Turn left at the light,” the automated voice commanded. The signal was green, traffic was moving, but we weren't in the turning lane. With a few quick maneuvers, Russ put us right where we needed to be. So we thought. Oncoming headlights blinded us. “Why are cars driving toward us?” he shouted. Russ had turned onto the wrong side of a six-lane boulevard! Swerving through a break in the median, he got the car on the correct side of the street. How did that happen? The voice said, “Turn.” The light indicated it was safe. Did we miss a Do Not Enter sign? Even though we tried our best, we failed to navigate the streets of…

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